#i have made my way to the castle beyond the goblin city

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

In My Sister’s Place (Part 2 of 2)

Here you are, lovelies! Part 2 of “In My Sister’s Place”. As always, familiar characters are NEVER mine!

Fandom: Labyrinth

Warnings: A bit of angst, but a happy ending. 

Pairings/Characters: Jareth the Goblin King x fem!reader, mentions of Sarah and Toby

Your eyes burned with tears that you hastily wiped away. First the obelisk, then the ballroom, the fireys fiends, and the Bog of Eternal Stench. You were quickly becoming overwhelmed with the Goblin King's labyrinth. And yet, every time you saw said king, it sent pleasant shivers down your spine and your heart began racing. You weren't sure if it was your hopeless romantic self or if the labyrinth was messing with your mind and heart, but you could feel yourself coming to care for the Goblin King.

         Your mind raced every time you thought back to the ballroom and how he'd held you close to him. How he'd gazed into your eyes. If you hadn't known better, you'd say he cared for you as well. But then you recalled how he had your baby brother and how scared Toby must feel. It set you back on the path and, before you knew it, you had made it into the castle.

         The Goblin King appeared again just as you set eyes on Toby. He practically begged you not to take him. He toyed with you using a never-ending staircase. As you tried to figure out what to do, you came to a realization. Maybe…perhaps, the Goblin King was simply lonely. Maybe he longed for someone to love, just like you. And just maybe, you could be that person. You thought and thought, your mind and heart pulling you in separate directions. Eventually, you made up your mind to save Toby and, by extension, your sister's sanity and guilt.

         The ticking of the clock echoed in your ears as you raced to where you were certain the Goblin King and Toby would be. Your legs were shaking and your heart was doing flip-flops in your chest when the Goblin King reappeared yet again. "I've won. I beat the labyrinth," you stated. The king looked pained as he watched you watching him. "Then you know what must be said, precious." You nodded, but before you could speak again, he held up a crystal. "You can stay, you know. Stay and never be worried about your siblings again. They will be happy. Sarah at home with her costumes and toys. The baby here with me…and you. Just remain here with me. Love me and I shall be your slave."

         You shook your head. "I don't want that. I want Toby safe at home. I want Sarah to finish growing up knowing that someone is looking out for her. I w-want someone to love that loves me as much as I do them. An equal partner in all things.  If I stayed, you would change to what you think I want you to be, just as you change the labyrinth. I'd want the chance to l-love you as you are." The king looked hopeful for a moment.

         "But I can't. No until I know my siblings are safe and that what I'm feeling for you isn't simply a trick of this place," you concluded. With tears in your eyes, you stepped forward and placed a soft kiss to the Goblin King's cheek as you mumbled a soft apology. You then began reciting the speech you'd learned by heart long ago, noticing the Goblin King's pained expression deepen with every word.

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered,

I have fought my way here, to the castle beyond the Goblin City,

To take back the child you have stolen,

For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great…

You have no power over me.

         No sooner did you finished speaking did you find yourself back in your home. You felt thin arms wrap around your middle and it took you a moment to realize that it was Sarah. A soft cooing caught your attention behind you. Toby. Safe in his crib. You breathed a sigh of relief just as an overwhelming sadness came over you. You helped Sarah settle Toby down to sleep and then lead her to her room and told her everything.

         "You must have been so frightened," she commented. You attempted to smile. "I suppose. I truly don’t believe the Goblin King was all that bad. He merely did what you asked of him. I think, in his own strange way, he was trying to show that he was lonely." Sarah huffed. "He deserves to be lonely. I bet you made more friends in the labyrinth than the Goblin King has ever had."

         "Sarah," you sighed, shaking your head. You knew she couldn't understand at this point. She was still so much a child. "Nevermind. How about I introduce you to some of the friends I made?" Her face lit up in excitement. "You can do that?!" You laughed and gave a little shrug. "They did say they would always be here if I needed them. And the magic of that place obviously works here as well." You glanced in the mirror and thought about the friends you'd made and how much you'd like to see them again as you closed your eyes. When you opened them at the sound of Sarah's laughter, the room was full of the people you'd met.

         After spending a little time with them all, you excused yourself to return to your own bedroom. Your heart was heavy. When you had opened your eyes, you had half-hoped that the Goblin King would be there as well. Of course he wasn't. You closed your door behind you, leaning against it. Your eyes traveled to the window and you froze.

         Perched on a branch just outside your window was a white and brown owl. Without hesitation, you threw open the window, inviting the owl inside. Tears began stream down your face when the owl flew in and instantly transformed into the very being you'd been thinking of. You hadn't even realized you'd moved until you hugged him close.

         "You came back," you said, your voice muffled by his vest. He stood slightly stiffly, as if your contact was unexpected, but after a moment, you felt his arms go around you. "You say that as though you missed me," he stated. You looked up at him with tears still running down your cheeks. "Why are you crying, precious?" he asked. "I'm so sorry," you replied, "I c-couldn't leave Toby there. I didn't want to hurt you, but I couldn’t leave him."

         The Goblin King laughed softly. "Why are you laughing? And why aren't you angry with me? I-I bested you. I left you alone." He cocked his head to the side as if he were thinking. "Do you know what I am? What I truly am?" he asked in return. You thought a for a moment. "Fae? Is that right?" He nodded. "Yes. And Fae like myself, have one true, ever-lasting love in their lifetime. You, my precious thing, are mine. That is why I came back. That is why I cannot remain angry with you."

         "How do you know?" Your voice was barely above a whisper now. It was a lot to process, but you couldn't deny that you'd felt something powerful within you every time he was near you. "An unexplained connection. A pull and feeling we cannot place. The longing to be near each other without understanding the reason behind it. I know you felt it in the labyrinth and the ballroom. And even more so in the castle."

         You nodded. There was point in lying to him about it. "What happens now?" you asked. He cupped your cheek. "Now, you make a decision, Y/N. You may remain here or return with me. Be my queen." You bit your lip. "Will you love me?"

         "I already do. You are my Y/N. My precious love." You gazed into his eyes. They were light and bright with emotion as he waited for your answer. You weren't sure how you were going to explain things to your family, but you knew your choice within mere seconds. Your face drew closer to his. "You never did tell me your name," you said softly. "Jareth."

         "Jareth," you whispered back before finally pressing your lips to his, sealing your fate as his. His Y/N. His love. His queen.

(a/n: I hope you like it and that this part was worth the wait!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @supernatural4life2022​

This Story Tags: @urlocalfanficwriter​ @bwila-bussy​ @evilunicorns4minions​ @princess-ofthe-pages​ @boofy1998​ @ultimatreality​ 

#labyrinth #part 2 #jareth the goblin king #jareth the goblin king x reader #jareth x reader #the goblin king x reader

[the-common-cowgirl]

It’s Only Forever, Not Long at All…

Chapter 1: Into the Labyrinth

Labyrinth AU Mini-Series. Each Chapter based on the chronological soundtrack of the cult classic film, Labyrinth (1986).

Goblin King!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Rating: Ch. 1 is General

Summary: Life at home is not fair, your only escape is your beloved fairytale novel, The Labyrinth. However, everything is about to change when you make a heat-of-the-moment mistake, causing you to strike an unfair deal with the one and only, Goblin King.

Warnings: teenage angst

Word Count: 2960

A/N: I know chapter 1 doesn’t delve too far from the original story, however, it’s pivotal for the remainder of the story so I kept it closely canon and will start separating in chapter 2.

Series Masterlist

Thunder rumbles distantly as you make your way across the park. The skies are gloomy overhead but you pay no attention. No, your mind isn’t stuck in the present. It dances to a realm where a handsome king holds you in his arms as you stare deeply into his eyes: in love. You clutch the fairytale novel, The Labyrinth, close to your home-made, hand sewn corset you made all by yourself after becoming infatuated with this book nearly four years ago. Now at eighteen, your childish obsession has somewhat taken over your life.

Your bedroom was covered in “Labyrinth” memorabilia. You had learned to sew garments that fit the fantasy world you pictured in your mind, creating an extensive array of different pieces. Your step-mother had a music box crafted for your sixteenth birthday, as a way of trying to grow closer to you. It was a miniature version of yourself in a big, white, puffy fantasy wedding gown and hair done up in pearls and beads in an intricate way. You loved that version of you in that music box so much that you had set out to remake the gown, it had taken two years but it was nearly finished and you couldn’t wait to put it on.

Your stepmother’s attempt at becoming friendly with you had worked, until it didn't. She had merely suggested one night recently that you should pursue a degree in fashion after you graduated since you loved sewing garments so much. The suggestion infuriated you, for she had been so close to understanding what fueled your passion for creating things, yet so far. You only created and learned to sew because of your love of reading, specifically your love of this book. How could she be so blind to not see that? That night a verbal fight had ensued between your step-mother, father and yourself. A fight so bad, your step-mother picked up your baby sister, you baby half-sister, and left the room.

The residual feelings of unease still lingered in the home, weeks after the fight. Which led to now, in the park, you reciting the main character’s words to the Goblin King and the air around you as a way to escape your home-life and reality, if only for a short while.

“Give me the child. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is great,” your mind trails off as you try to remember the next line.

“Ugh,” you groan and hit the book in your hand to your head, maybe a little too hard as it stings slightly “ I can never remember that line!” It’s true, you couldn’t, but you were also in the middle of trying to memorize the entire book so you should’ve given yourself more grace. You open the book to the page and passage in which you are trying to recite. Reading the words on the page aloud to yourself, “You have no power over me.”

As suddenly as you read the line, a large, snowy white owl swoops overhead, capturing your attention to the sky and a single raindrop falls onto your cheek as you head is cast upward to the rapidly darkening sky.

Which reminds you that you probably need to be back home by now. Your father had asked you to babysit your sister so he and your step-mother could go to a local fundraising gala and socialize the night away. The rain starts to come down harder now and you make your way back toward your home, running over the park’s bridge, right by the gazebo. Then when you reach the street, the clouds let loose and the downpour begins. You’re showered with water as you spring down the street, across a neighbor’s backyard and when you finally reach the back porch of your home that you found refuge from the wet in, you realize that not only are your garment’s soaked, so is your favorite book.

Grumbling angrily to yourself as you step into the house, past the kitchen and dining room and into the receiving room as you head up the stairs. Your self pity is stopped abruptly in your tracks as your stepmother calls from the bottom of the stairs, appearing from thin air.

“You’re late,” she called and you turned around halfway up the steps, “and you’re drenched!” She shrieks and turns to your father who is just out of sight, “Paul! Please explain to your daughter about punctuality and being presentable!” Her hair is in an updo as she puts on her earring. Her dress is a beautiful pale, satin pink; she’s the epitome of punctual and presentable.

Your father appears from the other room, “Y/N, you were not supposed to leave the house without our permission. Do you not remember that you're grounded?” His voice is stern but softer than your step-mother’s.

“I’m eighteen dad, you can’t ground me!” You stomp, childishly on the stair you’re standing on above them, water droplets falling with your action.

Your father brings up his pointer finger in warning, “As long as you live under my roof, I can still ground you. Now,” he raises his finger and points above you to the second floor, “Please take good care of Sarah tonight.”

“She’s already down for the night,” your step-mother adds as your father walks into the other room, “But if she wakes, just-”

“I know, I know,” you cut her off, “rock her to sleep and sing her her favorite songs and while I’m at it, why don’t I just give her my favorite things?” You raise your arms in a dramatic shrug.

Your step-mother sighs and grabs the baluster of the staircase, “Y/N, please do not disrespect me,” she says with a soft-sternness too familiar to you from her mouth; a plea. “I’m trying Y/N, but you’re making it,” you roll your eyes and start to walk further up the stairs, “so hard!” Her last two words are yelled to you as you go to your room, slam the door, and fall face-first onto your bed trying to drown out her yelling from downstairs.

They make you angry, both of them. They didn’t understand you or your interests. But, your father at least had the good sense not to bug you about what he didn’t understand; she didn’t. She’d constantly ask you about the book, about your projects, about the different characters, all to only ask once more, as if she didn’t store away information so important to you in her mind. You’d assumed if she truly wanted to know you, she’d make an effort. The nicest thing she had done was getting you that music box but even then, she made it more about your hobby of sewing than your passion for the fantasy element.

After some time, you heard the front door slam and that seemed to wake Sarah. You took a deep sigh, internally cursing them for waking your sister, half-sister. Pulling yourself from the bed, you made your way across the hall in the direction of the screaming to your father and step-mother’s room where Sarah had been sleeping. As you opened the door, the screaming intensified and you covered your ears as you approached the crying toddler in her pink-striped pajamas. You picked the toddler up as she continued to scream, not soothed by your presence in the slightest. You bounced her trying to sing against her wails, pacing around the room hap-hazardly as Sarah’s screams only seemed to worsen. As you passed her cradle for the third time, you recognized a stuffed animal she had been sleeping with to soothe her; your stuffed animal toy. The one your mother had given you when you were a baby.

Of course they’d give Sarah your things, she was your replacement with your father’s new wife. She was their precious girl, you were just a product of his last marriage to them, an inconvenience. You thought bitterly about how your step-mother wanted you out of the house, away at university and out of her hair and then she could play “perfect” family with her perfect daughter and no more. Just the three of them, the way it was meant to be.

And in that moment, all your anger seemed to snap.

You raised Sarah up in the air, still screaming and recited the fateful words, the words no one should say, yet…you did.

“I can bear no longer!” Tears streamed down Sarah’s face, “I wish, I wish…Goblin King! Goblin King! Wherever you may be, take this child of mine far away from me!” The wind rattled against the windows, making your heart skip a beat, wondering if somehow this chant had in fact, worked. But when you looked outside, you had just realized the sky was dark and the sun had set. You turn your attention back to Sarah as she continues to scream. “Ugh, Sarah,” you were impatient but now more relaxed as you let off steam. Laying her down, still crying, you grabbed the stuffed animal from her crib as she reached for it and walked back to your room briskly, to where it belonged. As you made your way across the hall, back toward the room Sarah was in, you heard her screaming abruptly stop. Your hand lingered above the handle of the door, wary as to why Sarah had stopped crying.

Opening the door, you called out, “Sarah?” Looking at her crib, you could see movements beneath the blanket but you couldn’t see her face. As you neared the crib, it moved sporadically, not in the way Sarah would move if she had fallen asleep. “Sarah?” You reached for the blanket to pull it from her face to make certain she was alright but the blanket moved again and you heard mischievous laughing from beneath. Your heartbeat quickened as you snatched the blanket from the crib to reveal nothing; Sarah was not there.

Behind you, you heard shuffling along the floor, then laughing as you turned, seeing a figure go underneath the queen bed skirt. Bending down in search of Sarah, you lifted the bed skirt to see nothing. “Sarah?” Your heart beat was quickening as you looked for your baby sister. “Sarah, this is not funny.” Something touched your leg and you jumped, looking down to see nothing. Shuffling was heard across the room and laughing from three different places were heard. You looked all around you in a panic, shadowy figures that resembled cats were hiding and peeking out from all around the room. You screeched as the creatures slowly emerged.

Suddenly behind you, the windows burst open with a warm gust of air and you quickly turned to be flooded with the white feathers of an owl. Covering your face so to not get scratched you shouted in fear. Then, the air was gone, the noise was gone, it was still. Slowly lowering your arms from your face, you were met with a towering, silver haired figure in a long coat, tight pants, knee high boots and an eye-patch….staring at you with a mischievous glint in his remaining eye.

And you knew.

“You’re him aren't you? You’re the Goblin King!” You accused, stepping back in fright. “I want my sister back, please, if it’s all the same.”

The corners of his mouth quirked, “What’s said is said.” His stern voice held finality.

“But I didn’t mean it,” you pleaded.

His smile grew from your words, “Oh you didn’t?” Raising a single brow.

A creature, a goblin, ran from behind you, frightening you into another shriek, between your legs and behind the King who waved his hands in front of each other and procured a glass-looking ball from what seemed thin air, like a magic trick. “I’ve brought you,” the orb danced across his fingertips as he transferred it from one hand to the other, “a gift.”

You felt inclined to take a step toward him but refused that feeling, “What is it?”

“It’s a crystal, nothing more. But, if you turn it this way and look into it,” he turned the crystal closer toward you, “it will show you your dreams. But it is not a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of a screaming baby.” He looked down to the crystal and his smile turned upside down as he looked up to you mischievously and threw the crystal at you, turning into a snake midair and landing on your chest. You screamed in terror as the snake fell to your feet and spun in tight circles, turning into a goblin and who laughed up at you.

When you raised your head to look at the king and you were suddenly in a new place, a realm of some sort, his realm. It was a dusty landscape and he stood above you, a warm wind blowing his silver locks across the tall black collar of his dust jacket. He raised a hand aside himself and procured an image of an ornate, golden grandfather clock whose hands spun sporadically. “You have twelve hours in which to solve the Labyrinth before your baby sister becomes one of us, forever.” He grinned devilishly, “At the center of the Labyrinth lies the Goblin City, and, my castle. You will find us there, waiting.” He pointed out beyond you.

You looked behind you to the massive maze in which you had to make it through in order to save your baby sister. At the center, far off in the distance, sitting atop a hill was a large castle: your destination.

“Turn back, turn back before it’s too late,” his voice rang behind you. As you turned you realized he had gotten closer, strangely close to you.

“I can’t,” you professed. “Don’t you know why I can't?”

He laughed deeply as he stepped backwards and began to disappear, “Such a pity.” His voice echoed around you, taunting you, encouraging you to fail.

You took a deep breath, stilling your mind and readied yourself for the task at hand. Turning, you set off and hurried down the hill to the tall, light dusty stone walls of the Labyrinth. Beginning your adventure into the world you had loved from pages for so long, that had now somehow, become your worst nightmare. You had to save your sister. You had to undo what you had caused. You had to solve the Labyrinth.

As you reached the towering walls you looked for an entrance into the maze and found there was none in sight, so you ran along the walls one way till you were nearly out of breath. Not seeing an end in sight, you turned and ran back the way you came and past that, until you were sorely out of breath. There was no entrance in sight, nothing but high stone walls that went on forever.

Feeling defeated and angry, you fell to the ground on your bottom, yelling, “It’s not fair!” Picking up a rock and throwing it to the wall without it to bounce back, rather, going through the wall. This puzzled you and you tilted your head.

“Life’s not fair,” a gravelly voice sounded behind you, causing you to startle. You saw a strange looking goblin walking about, spraying fairies and paying no mind to you.

“Hey! Don’t hurt them,” you reach out to scoop up an injured fairy that had been sprayed by this goblin. It looked at you with its little eyes and cute wings. You wondered why he had sprayed a thing so innocent and minding itself.

Then you felt a sharp sting in your hand and dropped the fairy, “Ow! It bit me!” Holding your hand to your mouth to stop the small pain.

“What did you expect a fairy to do?” He grogged and turned toward you as if we were dull.

“I don’t know…nice things like granting wishes?”

The goblin rolled his eyes, “Shows what you know, don’t it?” He returned to spraying the fairies but you had an idea.

Jumping up, “Hey, you live here don’t you? Why don’t you show me how to get into this place?” You put your hands on your hips with renewed hope.

The goblin and his sprayer turned, “Well, have you tried to get in?”

You furrowed your brow in confusion, “I’ve looked but there doesn't seem to be an entrance-”

“Just go through it,” he replied hastily, bored with your presence.

This puzzled you further. “Go through it?” You echoed and he merely nodded his head.

To get in you just walk in.” He spoke as if it were the plainest answer possible, the impossible.

Intrigued by his suggestion and oddly believing this goblin despite what help he offered to be very impossible, you decided to try it. So, you turned and walked to the stone wall with trepidation, hands raised. As you neared the wall, your hands slowly disappeared, then your arms, then you were on the other side of the wall, in the Labyrinth.

Elated, you returned back to the outside to thank this helpful goblin. “Wow, I just go through it!” He only rolled his eyes and returned to spraying the fairies. “Thank you, uh,” you hadn’t gotten his name.

“Hoggle,” he offered while paying you minimal attention.

“Thank you, Hoggle!” Excited, you slipped back into the maze. Turning around, you looked at the high walls before you and exhaled a deep sigh. Into the Labyrinth you went in search of your sister, to right your wrong, to defeat the Goblin King.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated but not necessary. ❤️❤️

IOF,NLAA Taglist: @sassysaxsolo @fan-goddess

#fanfic #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #gameofthrones #smut #aemond targaryen #game of thrones #labyrinth #aemond #aemond smut #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #goblin king #goblin king aemond #aemond one eye

[ymaohoh]

Labyrinth AU

Hellcheer prompt

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle, beyond the goblin city, to take back the child that you have stolen. My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great…” Chrissy stepped towards him, her chin held high in defiance. She was no longer the dreamy girl who wished away her little brother on a whim, weary from the constant abuse from a nagging mother and absentee father. Her words were true; she had fought through many hardships and dangers to reach the heart of the Labyrinth. To reach him, its maker.  He loomed before her now, dazzling in white silks. He looked every inch the romantic love interest from those secret novels she read late at night. He was so beautiful it made her heart ache.  “Stop! Look what I'm offering you. Your dreams…” Eddie eyed her like she was something untamed and dangerous. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before. She realised she liked it.  “My kingdom as great… my kingdom as great… damn, I can never remember that line….” She willed herself to think, to remember. She had uttered the words so many times playing pretend as a child.  “I ask for so little. Just fear me. Love me. Do as I ask, and I shall be your slave.” His words felt like velvet against her skin, tempting her with images of what-could-be. She saw herself in a white voluminous dress (like a bride, a heroine) with a dazzling crown on her head. She saw herself sitting on a gold throne beside him, ruling over the land as Goblin King and Queen. He would teach her how to control the Labyrinth and harness its magic for her own. He was offering her the moon on a string. The chance to live in a world where she could do whatever she wanted and never grow old.  With him.  With a gasp she remembered the next line of the script. Now all she had to do was say it and she would win. The dream would come to an end and she would be plunged back into her boring lonely life where all she had to look forward to was becoming Mrs Jason Carver. Her lips trembled but the words - you have no power over me - died on her tongue.  His eyes were so soft and inviting. He held out his gloved hand, willing her to accept it.  And with a grin, she did. 

#hellcheer #eddissy #edssy #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer headcanons #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer fanfiction #eddisy #eddissy fanfiction #edssy headcanons #hellcheer au

[moonkake-143]

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 - What's Said is Said

(Goblin King!Eddie X AFAB/Fem!Henderson Reader)

Edited by the lovely: Jen

(please go and check out her stuff its amazing and without her you wouldn't be reading this right now.)

Content: Slow-burn, one-sided pining from Eddie, love at first sight, angst, swearing, minor injury, blood, minimal to no use of Y/n

Summary: You never believed the story you told your little brother would end up becoming a reality, so when a mysterious man named Eddie claims to be the Goblin King after your brother goes missing, you can't help but be skeptical- but he's handsome, and you can't help but fall under his spell. One thing is for sure, though- you need to find Dustin, no matter the cost.

A/n: This will most likely be the only time I put one of these at the start of the fic. But the start of this is FINALLY here, I'm sorry it took so long to come out me and my editor have been busy and only recently have we gained some free time to finish this chapter. This idea has been on my mind for months and I can't wait for you all to dive into this 80s Labyrinth inspired fic!!

Chapter 1/? {wc: 3.8k}

Part 1

        Hawkins, Indiana was no stranger to bats, especially around fall, so you paid no mind to the one that flew over your head, hanging from the very tree you relaxed under. Lover's Lake was always popular at sundown, but when the sky was still painted blue and the stars had yet to say hello, it was your secret spot, especially when you wanted to escape for a few hours to read. Your current interest was a red leather-bound book that comfortably rested between your hands.

        The title had faded from the cover, but the first page named it The Labyrinth- it was a mysterious novel with no author listed. You had saved it from the depths of your local thrift store where it had collected dust, begging for you to take it home, beckoning you to uncover its secrets. In your free time, you had thrown yourself into the book, unaware of how long you had spent underneath the tree with Dart, your golden retriever, who lay quietly beside you.

        “Give me the child.” Your words carried along the wind as you read, with theatrics fit for a proper dungeon master. At the sound of your voice, Dart’s ears perked up and he tilted his head. His wagging tail gently thumped against the dirt, mixing with the sound of small waves lapping against the bank.

        “Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child that you have stolen.”

        You turned the faded yellow page, a small smile gracing your features as Dart sat up, giving you his full attention.

        “For my will is as strong as yours, and my heart as great.”

        As if listening intently to your story, the bat hung silently overhead, its ears twitching.

        “For you will never have power over me…”

        Before you could finish the scene, a roar of thunder shook the ground, causing you to jump and shut the book with a loud thud. Dark grey clouds littered the once-blue sky, the air heavy and humid.

        The bat which had hung over you flew away, and Dart gave chase, barking in its direction.

        “Dart!” You shouted.

        Shoving the book into your bag, you bolted up from your place under the tree, your fantasy fading as you brushed the dirt from your jeans. As if the rumbling thunder and barking dog weren’t enough, your wristwatch let out a beep that was all too familiar.

        “Shit! Come on, Dart! Mom’s gonna be so pissed!”

        You pulled your bike up from the side of the tree, hopping onto the seat and peddling away. Letting out one last howl as the bat disappeared into the branches, Dart turned to run after you, and before you could even curse the sky, the rain came pouring down.

        Peddling as fast as your legs could manage, you made it into town, turning sharp corners and crossing streets, taking as many shortcuts between houses and through back-alleys as possible to avoid the downpour.

        By the time you had made it to your street and turned into your driveway, you and Dart were thoroughly soaked. Ditching your bike, you followed Dart as he ran into the garage, furiously shaking the water from his fur. Trying to catch your breath, you wiped the rain from your face, your wet clothes clinging to you uncomfortably.

        Closing the garage, you left Dart there to warm up, letting yourself inside to escape the dreary cold. Despite the warmth of the house, you shivered as your doting mother came to greet you, holding your fussy three-year-old little brother.

        “Dustin, look who's here!" She chirped. "Only twenty minutes late!”

        “I know, Mom. I’m sorry, okay?” You huffed, kicking off your wet shoes and socks. “…Put him down so he can walk- you need to stop babying him.”

        “You know I rarely get to go out with the girls…and he's still my little Dusty-Bun.”

        “You go out all the time! I’m always stuck babysitting!”

        “You know I only have you babysit when it doesn't interfere with your plans.” Your mother’s beloved ginger cat, Mews, rubbed against her leg as she held Dustin, who looked between the two of you with interest, his blue eyes staring you down.

        “Well, you didn't even ask!”

        “I assumed you would tell me if you did! I’d like you to have plans, really! You should be going out and having fun at your age- maybe meeting a boy!”

        Pushing past her, you grabbed a towel from the bathroom and stalked to your room, slamming the door shut. Everything was so infuriating. When you pulled your book out, you found that it had gotten wet, and with a huff, you threw your bag into your desk chair. Shivering, you wrung the water from your hair, quickly changing out of your soaked jeans and sweater, and into something warm and more comfortable.

        Wrapping the towel around your shoulders to catch the water still dripping from your hair, you flopped into bed, shutting your eyes and soaking in the rare quietness as raindrops pelted the window. It was nice to be left alone.

        But good things don't last, and your illusion of silence shattered when your mother eventually pushed the door open, her honey blonde hair meticulously curled, with makeup swiped on with precision, and that dress. It sparkled and shined, catching your eye the moment she walked in. It was like you were four again and watching her get ready to go out, trying on different pairs of heels as your dad struggled with his necktie.

        But you remember that you're almost nineteen now and your dad left- he left you and your pregnant mother for a woman half her age. You shook your head, trying to forget those memories, and when you finally tuned back in, your mother was at the end of her usual speech.

        “-back by midnight, I already fed Dustin and put him in his playpen. Make sure to tuck him in, alright? You know he's still scared of thunder. I love you…both of you.”

        The older woman was closer to you then you realized as she leaned down to kiss your forehead, though she left the room quickly, her high heels muffled by the carpeted halls. You heard her walk to the garage, start the car, and disappear into the evening, leaving you alone with your little brother.

        Letting out a frustrated sigh, you went looking for a hairdryer, laying your poor book across your desk and peeling the damp pages apart. Finding your mother's on the bathroom counter, you plugged it into the wall and with a whir, began wafting hot air over the wet book, hoping it wasn't too badly damaged.

        A sudden clap of thunder shook the house, and as you jumped, Dustin shrieked at the top of his lungs. The cry was ear-piercing and nearly drowned out the roar of the hairdryer- you could hardly hear yourself think.

        With a frustrated groan, you switched it off, stomping to the living room. Dustin's playpen sat in the corner, filled with colorful plastic toys and stuffed animals that had once been yours. He stood at the edge of the pen with outstretched arms, red-faced and wailing your name as tears poured down his cheeks, his blanket laying forgotten on the ground.

        Clicking your tongue, you gently picked Dustin up and carried him to your mother's room, with Mews silently watching from the sofa. He clung to you for dear life, his cries shattering your eardrums as another crack of thunder rang out.

        “Come on Dustin, stop crying! You're a big boy now, you can't be afraid of thunder!” Your voice was stern, which only seemed to make him wail louder, snot dripping from his nose.

        Sitting him on his racecar bed, you grabbed a tissue box from your mother's nightstand. Wiping his face, you made him blow his nose, your patience wearing thin as the tears kept coming. After disposing of the tissues, you tucked him under his blanket, sitting on the edge of his bed.

        “Fine, do you want a story?!”

        Sniffling, Dustin nodded, his small hands tightly gripping the blanket.

        “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose mother always made her stay home with the baby. The baby was a spoiled child and had everything for himself, so the girl was practically forgotten.”

        Thunder roared and a flash of lightning illuminated the room, making Dustin bolt upright, his eyes glassy and full of fear.

        “But what no one knew was that the King of Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and she too had fallen for him, granting her certain powers.” You waved your hands for effect, trying to distract him.

        A crash of thunder rang out, and Dustin whined fearfully, still sniffling.

        “So one night, when the child had been left to his older sister, she called upon the goblins for help…”

        “Listen!” The nest stirred- they were all awake now, eyes wide and ears pointed in her direction.

        “Wha happen?” Dustin lisped in a small voice, his hand reaching for yours and gripping it tightly.

        “'Say your right words,' the goblins said, 'and we shall take the baby to the Goblin City and you…will be free.'”

        The goblins gasped, their crazed red eyes staring at you from their disgusting nest in the Goblin King’s manor. Some had horns, others had sharp teeth, and some were dressed in remnants of armor, but they all had malevolent eyes, their ears prickling with excitement. They could feel the words that you wished to say but could not voice, felt the meaning, the anger, in the desire.

        “But the girl knew that the Goblin King would keep the baby in his castle forever and ever, turning him into a goblin- and so she suffered in silence.”

        “Isth da king evil?”

        “I don’t know, Dustin…but he loved the girl endlessly." You tucked him in again. "With a heavy heart, he watched the girl endure torture for months- until one day, after coming home from meeting with the Goblin King did she suffer cruel and harsh words from her mother. Ungrateful she was for raising her son, the young girl could bear it no longer...”

        Your voice fell into a mere whisper, and Dustin's brown curls fell against the pillow, his eyelids struggling to stay open.

        The rain pattered against the window, and you sighed when the boy finally let go of your hand, breathing softly and evenly as his arm fell to his side. Just as you had begun to stand, the silence disappeared with a sudden strike of thunder, and Dustin's eyes shot open in terror. He screamed, desperately clinging to you as tears welled up in his eyes again.

        “Hey, it's okay!”

        You could hear Dart barking from the garage as you stood up, wrapping your arms around Dustin. Pacing the room, you hummed a melody to try and calm his frustrating cries, but he dug his face into your shoulder, soaking it with tears.

        “Come on Dustin, stop it!” Your words came out fierce, yet your actions showed otherwise.

        “It’s scawy!”

        “I know it's scary, but you're a big boy, aren't you? You need to fight the fear.”

        You tried to shush him, rocking him back and forth just like you did when he was a newborn, only he was heavier now.

        “Dustin, please be quiet…or I’ll say the words.” You looked away from him, your voice lowered.

        “Wha words...?” He sniffled.

        “I wish...no, I can't...I shouldn't..."

        “Everyone, wake up! Listen!” Every eye, every ear and every goblin was awake now.

        “Is she going to say it?!” An excited goblin asked.

        “If you would shut up, I could find out!”

        “Who are you telling to shut up?!”

        “Both of you- quiet!” Another goblin smacked the bickering pair in the head.

        Dustin hiccupped, and when another roar of thunder shook the house- the loudest of them all- did his wails reach the highest of decibels. He trembled frightfully, tears streaming down his bright red cheeks as he clung to you for dear life, burying his face in your shoulder. With a defeated demeanor, you cried out in mock sacrifice, quoting the story.

        “I can bear it no longer! Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, come and take this child far away from me!”

        “No! Don take me! I be good! Pinky!” He promised.

        “Oh, that's not it!” The goblins let out crestfallen sighs.

        “It didn't even start with ‘I wish’...”

        You clicked your tongue and cuddled him, shaking your head.

        “Oh stop it, you little gremlin- nothing will come get you. But the girl cried…Oh, I wish…I wish...”

        You knew the words but couldn't bear to say them. Anger, jealousy, and sadness filled your thoughts as you looked at your younger brother; the child which you raised, the one that stole the best years of your adolescence from you. His crying slowly ceased and his breath calmed as you held him, the weight on your shoulder heavy. He was some form of asleep, at least for now.

        With a weary sigh, you put Dustin back to bed, gently tucking him under the blanket. As the downpour became a light rain, your mind wandered to your true thoughts- the ones the goblins could clearly see.

        “I wish I could say the words to let the goblins take you away…” You muttered, grateful for the boy's soft snores that covered your frightful words.

        One goblin let out an annoyed huff, trying to spell it out for you.

        “‘I wish the goblins would take you away right now.’ Not so hard, now is it?”

        Rubbing your temples, you headed towards the door.

        The goblins watched tensely, biting their nails with chattering teeth.

        “Did she say it?” A large, dense goblin suddenly asked.

        “Shut up!" They yelled in unison.

        A sudden clap of thunder rang out, causing you to jump. Behind you, Dustin screamed in fright, crying once more, wailing for you- all your hard work wasted.

        Gripping the doorknob, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, saying the wish you had never thought you would utter aloud.

        “I wish the goblins would come and take you away…” Standing in the doorway, you heard his wails hush once again.

        The goblins were so quiet they could hear a pin drop in their nest.

        “...Right now.”

        The door shut behind you, the clouds letting out a final battle cry before plunging the house into complete silence. There were no more cracks of thunder, the rain had stopped, and you didn't hear Dustin anymore.

        As you stood outside the room, you began to worry.

        You flung open the door, eyes darting around your mother’s dark bedroom. It was silent. No whine, no cry, and no calling of your name in the midst of a frightful thunderstorm. You hurried into the room, panic overtaking your features as you pulled back Dustin’s bedsheets, your heart sinking.

        Nothing. He was gone.

        “Dustin?! Come out, this isn't funny!”

        But there was no answer- not from your brother, at least.

        The sound of laughter rang out as something scurried around the room, the closet door slamming open and shut. You spun in its direction. Nothing was there. From the corner of your eye, you saw something crawl under the sheets of your mother's bed, but when you turned to look, it had disappeared into the floor. Your fear only escalated.

        “Dustin! Where are you?!”

        The high-pitched laughter only grew louder as you panicked, anxiety coursing through your veins as you spun around the room, your heart racing in your chest. The wind raged outside as you searched for your little brother, head spinning and eyes whirling. The window panes shook and clattered, a bat slamming against the glass over and over again. You felt ready to pass out. There was too much going on.

        With a roar of thunder, the window shattered. Gasping, you shielding your face from the burst of glass shards that now littered the carpet, the raging wind chilling you to your core. You heard the flapping of wings from somewhere in the room, and when you lowered your arms, you saw the bat. It dropped to the floor in a puff of thick smoke, growing and contorting into a towering figure. Your heart stopped.

        “Jeez, took you long enough to call for me! I thought I would have to meddle a bit more.” The voice was manly, cheery, and full of mirth, the chuckle turning into a bodacious laugh.

        Fear encompassed your body as you stumbled back, tripping over a giggling goblin and falling backwards onto the carpet. A stinging pain sliced through your hands as you landed on shards of glass, but all you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

        The man was captivating, with round brown eyes that seemed almost hungry, and dark hair that framed his angular face, falling around his shoulders in loose curls. His outfit resembled something out of a Renaissance fair, with a flared poet shirt and corset, his dark pants tucked into tall lace-up boots. The long velvet cape over his shoulders sparkled and shined like the night, as if the very stars had been woven into it, extravagantly fluttering in the wind that blew through the broken window.

        “...Where is he?” You found your voice, hands trembling slightly as they balled into bloody fists.

        “Where is who?”

        “My little brother!”

        Stepping closer, the man leaned down to your level. On closer inspection, he had freckles and a fanged grin- his teeth were sharper than any human's. You glared and forced a fire to your eyes, but his held no malice as he looked you over, his gaze landing on your trembling hands.

        “Who are you?! What have you done with Dustin?!” You demanded.

        His hands seized yours and you hissed in pain, the smell of iron hitting you as he held them up, his intense eyes seeming to sparkle. You winced at the sight of the injury- glass bits were embedded into your palms and a large gash ran through the center of your left hand, blood oozing from it.

        The man gently cupped your hands, passing his fingers over the wounds with dark, concentrated eyes. The throbbing pain dissipated as you recoiled, staring down at your injured palms. Before your very eyes, the glass in them crumbled into into sand, disappearing before the grains could hit the floor, and the blood seemed to flow back into your cuts, your skin sealing itself shut.

        Shock, confusion, and panic overtook you as you began to hyperventilate, your heart pounding. How could this be? You felt the glass pierce your hands, you smelled the blood- but not even a scar had been left behind.

        You quivered, hyperaware of how close this man was to you and how he definitely wasn't human.

        “Who are you!? What are you?!”

        “Me? I’m Eddie! You should already know that much, since you're the one who invited me here! I’ve been waiting ages for your call!”

        “Invited? My call?” You stammered. “…No…you’re the Goblin King...?!”

        “The one and only!”

        “No! It was a mistake! I was only telling a story- I didn't mean it! Bring him back!” You scrambled to your feet, shoving Eddie with newfound courageous force. He stumbled, his eyebrows scrunched as he held his ground, dusting off his cape.

        “My dear, what’s said is said- you're the one who wished him away. Story or not, it was in your heart.”

        “But I didn’t mean it! Please give him back!”

        “I’m afraid I can’t do that, but I brought you something better!”

        Eddie plucked a crystal ball out of thin air, its glass catching the glimmering rays of the faded moonlight.

        “Look into it, tell it your deepest wish, and your dreams will come true. Forget about the baby~” The crystal shimmered as it called you, beckoning for you to take it.

        “All my dreams?” You reached out with a slight tremor, your voice soft.

        “Yes, all of them.”

        Blinking, you froze, fingers mere inches from the crystal- how could you forget Dustin? Dustin, your little brother, who was probably terrified, was all alone somewhere far, and here you were ready to forget him. How could you think such a thing?

        “Where is he?! Tell me now!”

        You slapped away his outstretched hand, and the crystal orb tumbled to the ground. It shattered, and you gasped as a snake sprung from the fragments. Threatening to strike at your toes, you jumped from it, and the serpent slithered away into the darkness behind you, disappearing under your mother’s dresser.

        “Your brother is in my manor. If you wish to see him again, you will have to find your way through here.”

        Eddie stepped aside, the scenery outside the window changing from the dreary darkness of Hawkins to a bright landscape with rolling hills, covered in a lush green hedge labyrinth, and at the center lay a grand manor- it was like nothing that you had ever seen before. You stepped towards the window, and your mother's bedroom disappeared from around you.

        Where was this place?

        “I'm in the mood for a little game..." Eddie leaned in, his voice like honey in your ears. "If you do not reach your brother in the next, let's say thirteen hours, he'll remain here for eternity..." An ornate clock appeared behind Eddie, the hands moving before your very eyes. "...But if you can solve my labyrinth before time runs out, then the both of you may return home.”

        You flinched, your cheeks flushed from how close he had been.

        “So, what will you do?” He whispered the question like a prayer, his sparkling chocolate eyes drawing you in, drowning you- but you had to look away, eyeing the manor from your place on top of a grassy hill.

        “It doesn't look that far…” Your voice trailed off.

        He let out a laugh that warmed your very soul, the sound deep and rich, his grin sharp and toothy.

        “It’s farther than you think. But don’t fret- I shall benevolently monitor your progress, Miss Henderson- or should I call you…” He whispered your name as if it was a sin, his lips quipping into a smirk.

        Your eyes widened- you had never told him your name.

        “How did you-?”

        His eyes twinkled mysteriously, the clock chiming as it disappeared from thin air.

        “Good luck sweetheart, you're gonna need it!” With a gust of wind and the flutter of his cloak, Eddie vanished in a cloud of mist, his voice fading from your ears.

        You stared down at the manor, the labyrinth seeming more enormous than it had at first glance.

        But you had to get to the center and find Dustin- even if it meant encountering the peculiar Goblin King again.

        Fighting off a blush, you started walking.

Taglist: (if you want to be added or removed from the list let me know!)

@sh0wthyself, @fracturedarkness 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson au #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #labyrinth #stranger things #80s style #80s movies #dustin henderson #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x reader #labyrinth au #alternate universe #fantasy #isekai #Dustin Henderson is literally a toddler #Hispanic reader #Hispanic Y/N #HC that dustin is mixed bby #MDNI #Goblin King! Eddie #Goblin King! Eddie X reader

[patheticbatman]

October 2019 Story

I deleted the original unfortunately, so this is a repost. I drew this when I was 17, and was very excited to post this for spooky month when I was 18. To be honest, I had a spookier one in the barrel, but I wanted to save that for my first 'anniversary' of posting these, lol. And hey, this one is a little fucked up (affectionate) if you think about it a bit.

Adapted by A.C.H.Smith from the Jim Henson, Brian and Wendy Froud film Chapter One :The White Owl

Nobody saw the owl, white in the moonlight, black against the stars, nobody heard him as he glided over on silent wings of velvet. The owl saw and heard everything. He settled in a tree, his claws hooked on a branch, and he stared at the girl in the glade below. The wind moaned, rocking the branch, scudding low clouds across the evening sky. It lifted the hair of the girl. The owl was watching her, with his round, dark eyes. The girl moved slowly from the trees toward the middle of the glade, where a pool glimmered. She was concentrating. Each deliberate step took her nearer to her purpose. Her hands were open, and held slightly in front of her. The wind sighed again in the trees. It blew her cloak tightly against her slender figure, and rustled her hair around her wide-eyed face. Her lips were parted.

"Give me the child," Sarah said, in a voice that was low, but firm with the courage her quest needed. She halted, her hands still held out. "Give me the child," she repeated. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child you have stolen." She bit her lip and continued, "For my will is as strong as yours … and my kingdom as great …" She closed her eyes tightly. Thunder rumbled. The owl blinked, once. "My will is as strong as yours." Sarah spoke with even more intensity now. "And my kingdom as great …" She frowned, and her shoulders dropped.

"Oh, damn," she muttered.

Reaching under her cloak, she brought out a book. Its title was The Labyrinth. Holding the book up before her, she read aloud from it. In the fading light, it was not easy to make out the words. "You have no power over me ..." 

She got no further. Another clap of thunder, nearer this time, made her jump. It also alarmed a big, shaggy sheepdog, who had not minded sitting by the pool and being admonished by Sarah, but who now decided that it was time to go home, and said so with several sharp barks. 

Sarah held her cloak around her. It did not give her much warmth, being no more than an old curtain, cut down, and fastened at the neck by a glass brooch. She ignored Merlin, the sheepdog, while concentrating on learning the speech in the book. "You have no power over me," she whispered. She closed her eyes again and repeated the phrase several times. 

A clock above the little pavilion in the park chimed seven times and penetrated Sarah's concentration.

She stared at Merlin. "Oh, no," she said. "I don't believe it. That was seven, wasn't it?"

Merlin stood up and shook himself, sensing that some more interesting action was due. Sarah turned and ran. Merlin followed. The thunderclouds splattered them both with large drops of rain.

The owl had watched it all. When Sarah and Merlin left the park, he sat still on his branch, in no hurry to follow them. This was his time of day. He knew what he wanted. An owl is born with all his questions answered. 

All the way down the street, which was lined on both sides with privet-hedged Victorian houses similar to her own, Sarah was muttering to herself, "It's not fair, it's not fair." The mutter had turned to a gasp by the time she came within sight of her home. Merlin, having bounded along with her on his shaggy paws, was wheezing, too. His mistress, who normally moved at a gentle, dreamy pace, had this odd habit of liking to sprint home from the park in the evening. Perhaps that owl had something to do with it. Merlin was not sure. He didn't like the owl, he knew that. 

"It's not fair." Sarah was close to sobbing. The world at large was not fair, hardly ever, but in particular her stepmother was ruthlessly not fair to her. There she stood now, in the front doorway of the house, all dressed up in that frightful, dark blue evening gown of hers, the fur coat left open to reveal the low cut of the neckline, the awful necklace vulgarly winking above her freckled breast, and -- wouldn't you know? -- she was looking at her watch. Not just looking at it but staring at it, to make good and sure that Sarah would feel Giulty before she was accused, again. 

As Sarah came to a halt on the path in the front garden, she could hear her baby brother, Toby, bawling inside the house. He was her half brother really, but she did not call him that, not since her school friend Alice had asked, "What's the other half of him, then?" and Sarah had been unable to think of an answer. "Half nothing-to-do-with-me." That was no good. It wasn't true, either. Sometimes she felt fiercely protective of Toby, wanted to dress him up and carry him in her arms and take him away from all this, to a better place, a fairer world, an island somewhere, perhaps. At other times -- and this was one -- she hated Toby, who had twice as many parents in attendance on him as she had. When she hated Toby, it frightened her, because it led her into thinking about how she could hurt him. There must be something wrong with me, she would reflect, that I can even think of hurting someone I dote upon; or is it that there is something wrong in doting upon someone I hate? She wished she had a friend who would understand the dilemma, and maybe explain it to her, but there was no one. Her friends at school would think her a witch if she even mentioned the idea of hurting Toby, and as for her father, it would frighten him even more than it frightened Sarah herself. So she kept the perplexity well hidden. 

Sarah stood before her stepmother and deliberately held her head high. "I'm sorry," she said, in a bored voice, to show that she wasn't sorry at all, and anyway, it was unnecessary to make a thing out of it. 

"Well," her stepmother told her, "don't stand out there in the rain. Come on." She stood aside, to make room for Sarah to pass her in the doorway, and she glanced again at her wristwatch. 

Sarah made a point of never touching her stepmother, not even brushing against her clothes. She edged inside close to the door frame. Merlin started to follow her. "Not the dog," her stepmother said. 

"But it's pouring."

Her stepmother wagged her finger at Merlin, twice. "In the garage, you," she commanded. "Go on." 

Merlin dropped his head and loped around the side of the house. Sarah watched him go and bit her lip. Why, she wondered for the trillionth time, does my stepmother always have to put on this performance when they go out in the evening. It was so hammy -- that was one of Sarah's favorite words, since she had heard her mother's costar, Jeremy, use it to put down another actor in the play they were doing -- such a rag-bag of over-the-top cliches. She remembered how Jeremy had sounded French when he said cliches, thrilling her with his sophistication. Why couldn't her stepmother find a new way into the part? Oh, she loved the way in which Jeremy talked about other actors. She was determined to become an actress herself, so that she could talk like that all the time. Her father seldom talked at all about people at his office, and when he did it was dreary in comparison. 

Her stepmother closed the front door, looking at her watch once more, took a deep breath, and started one of her cliched speeches. "Sarah, you're an hour late ..." Sarah opened her mouth, but her stepmother cut her off, with a little, humorless smile. "Please let me finish, Sarah. Your father and I go out very rarely--" 

"You go out every weekend," Sarah interrupted rapidly. 

Her stepmother ignored that. "-- and I ask you to baby-sit only if it won't interfere with

your plans." 

"How would you know?" Sarah had half turned away, so as not to flatter her stepmother with her attention, and was busy with putting her book on the hall stand, unclipping her brooch, and folding the cloak over her arm. "You don't know what my plans are. You don't even ask me." She glanced at her own face in the mirror of the hall stand, checking that her expression was cool and poised, not over the top. She liked the clothes she was wearing: a cream-colored shirt with full sleeves, a brocaded waistcoat loosely over the shirt, blue jeans, and a leather belt. She turned even further away from her stepmother, to check on how her shirt hung from her breasts down to her waist. She tucked it in a little at the belt, to make it tighter. 

Her stepmother was watching her coldly. "I am assuming you would tell me if you had a date. I would like it if you had a date. A fifteen-year-old girl should have dates." Well, Sarah was thinking, if I did have a date you are the last person I would tell. What a hammy -- no, tacky -- view of life you do have. She smiled grimly to herself. Perhaps I will have a date, she thought, perhaps I will, but you will not like it, not one bit, when you see who's dating me. I doubt you will see him. All you will know about it is hearing the front door shut behind me, and you will sneak to the window, as you always do, and poke your nose between those horrid phony-lace curtains you put up there, and you will see the taillights of a wicked dove-gray limousine vanishing around the corner. And after that, you will keep seeing pictures in the magazines of the two of us together in Bermuda, and St. Tropez, and Benares. And there will be nothing at all you can possibly do about it, for all your firm views on bedtimes and developmental psychology and my duties and rolling up the toothpaste tube from the bottom. Oh, stepmother, you are going to be sorry when you read in Vogue about the cosmic cash that Hollywood producers are offering us for -- 

Sarah's father came down the stairs into the hall. In his arms he was carrying Toby, clad in red-and-white striped pajamas. He patted the baby's back. "Oh, Sarah," he said mildly, "you're here at last. We were worried about you." 

"Oh, leave me alone!" Afraid that she might be close to tears, Sarah gave them no chance to reason with her. She ran upstairs. They were always so reasonable, particularly her father, so long-suffering and mild with her, so utterly convinced that they were always obviously in the right, and that it was only a matter of time before she consented to do as they wished. Why did her father always take that woman's side? Her mother never wore that look of pained tolerance. She was a woman who could shout and laugh and hug you and slap you all within a minute or two. When she and Sarah had a quarrel, it was an explosion. Five minutes later, it was forgotten. 

In the hallway, her stepmother had sat down, still in her fur coat. Wearily, she was saying, "I don't know what to do anymore. She treats me like the wicked stepmother in a fairy tale, no matter what I say. I have tried, Robert." 

"Well ..." Sarah's father patted Toby thoughtfully. "It is hard to have your mother walk out on you at that age. At any age, I suppose." 

"That's what you always say. And of course you're right. But will she never change?" Holding Toby in one arm, Robert patted his wife on the shoulder. "I'll go and talk to her." Thunder rumbled again. A squall of raindrops clattered on the windows. 

Sarah was in her room. It was the only safe place in the world. She made a point of going

all around it each day, checking that everything was just where it had been and should be. Although her stepmother seldom came in there, except to deliver some ironed clothes or to give Sarah a message, she was not to be trusted. It would be typical of her to take it into her head to dust the room, even though Sarah made sure that it was kept clean, and then she would be bound to move things around and not put them back where they belonged. It was essential to ward off that disturbing spirit. 

All the books had to remain in the proper positions, in alphabetical order by author and they were positioned according to affinities known only to Sarah. The curtains had to hang exactly so that, when Sarah was lying on her bed, they symmetrically framed the second poplar tree in a line that she could see from the window. The wastepaper basket stood so that its base

just touched the edge of one particular block on the parquet floor. It would be unsafe if these things were not so. Once let disorder set in, and the room would never be familiar again. People talked about how upsetting it was to be burgled, and Sarah knew just how it must feel, as though some uncaring stranger were fooling around with your most precious soul. The woman who came in to clean three times a week knew that she was never to do anything to this room. Sarah looked after everything in there herself. She had learned how to fix electric plugs, and tighten screws, and hang pictures, so that her father should have no need to come in except to speak to her. 

Sarah was now standing in the middle of her room. Her eyes were red. She sniffled, and chewed her lower lip. Then she walked over to her dressing table and gazed at a framed photograph. Her father and mother, and herself, aged ten, gazed back at her. Her parents' smiles were confident. Her own face in the photograph was, she thought, slightly over the top, grinning too keenly. 

All around the room, other eyes watched. Photographs and posters displayed her mother in various costumes, for various parts. Clippings from Variety were taped to the mirror of the dressing table, praising her mother's performances or announcing others she would give. On the wall beside the bed was pinned a poster advertising her latest play; in the picture, Sarah's mother and her costar, Jeremy, were cheek to cheek, their arms around each other, smiling confidently. The photographer had lit the pair beautifully, showing her to be so pretty, he so handsome, with his blond hair and a golden chain around his neck. Beneath the picture was a quote from one of the theater critics: "I have seldom felt such warmth irradiating an audience." The poster was signed, with large flourishing signatures: "For Darling Sarah, with all my love, Mom," and, in a different hand, "All Good Wishes, Sarah -- Jeremy." Near the poster were more press clippings, from different newspapers, arranged in chronological order. In them, the two stars could be seen dining together in restaurants, drinking together at parties, and laughing together in a little rowboat. The texts were all on the theme of "Romancing on and off the stage." 

Still sniffling from time to time, Sarah went to the small table beside her bed and picked up the music box her mother had given her for her fifteenth birthday. The memory of that gorgeous day was still vivid. A taxi had been sent for her in the morning, but instead of going to her mother's place it had taken her along the waterfront to where Jeremy and her mother were waiting in Jeremy's old black Mercedes. They went out into the country for lunch beside a swimming pool at some club where Jeremy was a member and the waiters spoke French, and later, in the pool, Jeremy had clowned around, pretending to drown, to such an effect that an elderly man had rung the alarm bell. They had giggled all the way back to town. At her mother's place, Sarah was given Jeremy's present, an evening gown in pale blue. She wore it to go with them to a new musical that evening, and afterward to supper, in a dimly lit restaurant. Jeremy was wickedly funny about every member of the cast they had seen in the musical. Sarah's mother had pretended to disapprove of his scandalous gossip, but that had only made Sarah and Jeremy laugh more uncontrollably, and soon all three of them had tears in their eyes. Jeremy had danced with Sarah, smiling down at her. He kidded her that a flashbulb meant that they'd be all over the gossip columns next morning, and all the way home he drove fast, to shake off the photographers, he claimed, grinning. As they said good night, her mother gave Sarah a little parcel, wrapped in silver paper and tied with a pale blue bow. Back in her room, Sarah had unwrapped it, and found the music box. 

The tune of "Greensleeves" tinkled, and a little dancer in a frilly pink dress twirled pirouettes. Sarah watched it reverently, until it became slow and jerky in motion. Then she put it down, and quietly recited from a poem she had studied in her English class: 

"O body swayed to music, O brightening glance, How can we know the dancer from the dance?" 

It was so easy to learn poetry by heart. She never had any difficulty in remembering those lines, whenever she opened the music box. In fact, she reflected, it's easier to remember them than to forget them. So why was she having such trouble in learning the speech from The Labyrinth? It was only a game she was playing. No one was waiting for her to rehearse it, no audience, except Merlin, would judge her performance of it. It should have been a piece of cake. She frowned. How could she ever hope to go on stage if she could not remember one speech?

She tried again. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child you have stolen …" She paused, her eyes on the poster of her mother in Jeremy's arms, and decided it would help her performance if she prepared for it. If you're going to get into a part, her mother had told her, you've got to have the right prop. Costume and makeup and wigs -- they were more for the actor's benefit than for the audience's. They helped you escape from your own life and find your way into the part, as Jeremy said.

And after each show, you take it all off, and you've wiped the slate clean. Every day was a fresh start. You could invent yourself again. Sarah took a lipstick from the drawer in her dressing table, put a little on her lips, and rolled them together, as her mother did. Her face close the mirror, she applied a little more to the corners of her mouth.

There was a tapping on her door, and her father's voice came from outside. "Sarah? Can I talk to you?"

Still looking in the mirror, she replied, "There's nothing to talk about."

She waited. He would not come in unless she invited him. She imagined him standing there, frowning, rubbing his forehead, trying to think what he ought to say next, something firm enough to please that woman but amicable enough to reassure his daughter.

"You'd better hurry," Sarah said, "if you want to make the show."

"Toby's had his supper," her father's voice said, "and he's in bed now. If you could just make sure he goes to sleep all right, we'll be back around midnight." Again, a pause, then the sound of footsteps walking away, with a slowness measured to express a blend of concern and resignation. He had done all that could be expected of him.

Sarah turned from the mirror and stared accusingly at the closed door. "You really wanted to talk to me, didn't you?" she murmured. "Practically broke down the door." Once upon a time, he would not have gone out without giving her a kiss. She sniffled. Things had certainly changed in this house.

She put the lipstick in her pocket and wiped her lips with a tissue. As she went to throw it in the wastepaper basket, something caught her eye. More exactly, something that was not there caught her eye. Launcelot was not there.

Rapidly, she rummaged through her shelf of toys and dolls and cuddly things, dogs and monkeys and soldiers and clowns, though she knew it would be fruitless. If the teddy bear were there at all, he would have been in his appointed place. He had gone. The order of the room had been violated. Sarah's cheeks were hot.

Someone's been in my room, she thought. I hate her.

Outside, the taxi was pulling away. Sarah heard it and ran to the window.

"I hate you," she screamed.

No one heard her save Merlin, and he could do no more than he was doing already, which was to bark loudly, in the garage.

She knew where she would find Launcelot. Toby already had everything his baby heart could desire, had so much more than Sarah herself had ever had; yet more was given to him, every day, without question. She stormed into the nursery. The teddy bear was spread-eagled on the carpet, just tossed away, like that. Sarah picked Launcelot up and clutched him to her.

Toby, full of warm milk, had almost been asleep in his crib. Sarah's entrance aroused him.

She glared at the baby. "I hate her. I hate you."

Toby started to cry. Sarah shuddered, and held Launcelot still more tightly.

"Oh," she wailed. "Oh, someone … save me. Take me away from this awful place."

Toby was howling now. His face was red. Sarah was wailing, Merlin was barking outside. The storm delivered a lightning flash and clap of thunder directly above the house. It rattled the windows in their frames.

Teacups danced in the kitchen cupboard.

"Someone save me," Sarah begged.

"Listen!" said a goblin, one eye opened.

All around him, on top of him, beneath him, the nest of goblins stirred sleepily. Another eye opened, and another, and another, all crazed eyes, red and staring. Some of the goblins had horns, and some had pointed teeth, some had fingers like claws; some were dressed in scraps of armor, a helmet, a gorget, but all of them had scaly feet, and all had baleful eyes. Higgledy-piggledy in a heap they slept, in their dirty chamber at the castle of the Goblin King. Their eyes went on opening, and their ears pricked up.

"All right, hush now, shush." Sarah was trying to calm herself down as much as her baby brother. "What do you want? Hmm? Do you want a story? All right." With barely a moment's thought, she picked up on the thread of The Labyrinth. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful young woman whose stepmother always made her stay with the baby. The baby was a spoiled child who wanted everything for himself, and the young woman was practically a slave girl. But what no one knew was this: the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with her, and given her certain powers."

In the castle, the goblins' eyes opened very wide. They were all attention. The lightning and thunder crashed again, but both Sarah and Toby had become quieter. "One night," Sarah continued, "when the baby had been particularly nasty, the girl called on the goblins to help her. And they said to her, 'Say your right words, and we'll take the baby away to the Goblin City, and then you'll be free.' Those were their words to her.

The goblins nodded enthusiastically.

Toby was nearly asleep again, with only a light protest remaining on his breath. Sarah, enjoying her own invention, leaned closer to him, over the side of the crib. She was holding her audience in her spell. Launcelot was in her arms.

"But the girl knew," she went on, "that the King of the Goblins would keep the baby in his castle forever and ever, and he would turn the baby into a goblin. And so she suffered in silence, through many a long month … until one night, worn out by a day of slaving at housework, and hurt beyond measure by the harsh, ungrateful words of her stepmother, she could bear it no longer."

By now, Sarah was leaning so close to Toby that she was whispering into his little pink ear. Suddenly he turned over in his crib and stared into her eyes, only a couple of inches away. There was a moment of silence. Then Toby opened his mouth, and began to howl loudly and insistently.

"Oh!" Sarah snorted in disgust, standing up straight again.

The thunder rolled, and Merlin gave it all he had.

Sarah sighed, frowned, shrugged, and decided there was no way around it. She picked Toby up and walked around the room, jogging him in her arms, together with Launcelot. The small bedside light threw their shadows on the wall, huge and flickering. "All right," she said, "all right. Come on, now. Rock-a-bye baby, and all that stuff. Come on, Toby, knock it off."

Toby wasn't going to knock it off just for being jogged. He felt he had a serious grievance to express.

"Toby," his sister said sternly, "be quiet, will you? Please? Or --" Her voice lowered. "-- I'll … I'll say the words." She looked up quickly at the shadows on the wall and addressed them theatrically. "No! No! I mustn't. I mustn't. I mustn't say … 'I wish … I wish …"

"Listen," said the goblin again.

Every glowing eye in the nest, every ear, was open now.

A second goblin spoke. "She's going to say it!"

"Say what?" asked a stupid goblin. "Shush!" The first goblin was straining to hear Sarah.

"Shut up!" other goblins said.

"You shut up!" said the stupid goblin.

In the hubbub, the first goblin thought he would go crazy with trying to hear. "Sh! Shhh!" He put his hand over the mouth of the stupid goblin.

The second goblin shrieked, "Quiet!" and thumped those nearest to him.

"Listen," the first goblin admonished the rest. "She is going to say the words."

The rest of them managed to silence themselves. They listened intently to Sarah.

She was standing erect. Toby had reached such a crescendo of screaming, red in the face, that he could scarcely draw breath. His body was straining against Sarah's arms with the effort he was making. Launcelot had fallen to the floor again. Sarah closed her eyes and quivered. "I can bear it no longer," she exclaimed, and held the howling baby above her head, like a sacrificial offering. She started to intone:

"Goblin King! Goblin King!

Wherever you may be,

Come and take this child of mine

Far away from me!"

Lightning cracked. Thunder crashed.

The goblins dropped their heads, crestfallen.

"That's not right," the first goblin said, witheringly.

"Where did she learn that rubbish?" the second scoffed. "It doesn't even start with 'I wish."

"Sh!" said a third goblin, seizing his chance to boss the others.

Sarah was still holding Toby above her head. Outraged by that, Toby was screaming even more loudly than before, which Sarah would have not thought possible. She brought him down and cuddled him, which had the effect of restoring him to his standard level of screaming.

Exhausted by now, Sarah told him, "Oh, Toby, stop it. You little monster. Why should I have to put up with this? You're not my responsibility. I ought to be free, to enjoy myself. Stop it! Oh, I wish … I wish …" Anything would be preferable to this cauldron of noise, anger, guilt, and weariness in which she found herself. With a tired little sob, she said, "I wish I did know what words to say to get the goblins to take you away."

"So where's the problem?" the first goblin said with an impatient sight. Pedantically, he spelled it out. "'I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now.' Hmm? That's not hard, is it?"

In the nursery, Sarah was saying, "I wish … I wish …"

The goblins were all alert again, biting their lips with tension.

"Did she say it?" the stupid goblin asked brightly.

As one, the rest turned on him. "Shut," they said irritably, "up."

Toby's tornado had blown itself out. He was breathing deeply, with a whimper at the end of his breath. His eyes were closed. Sarah put him back in his crib, not too gently, and tucked him in.

She walked quietly to the door and was shutting it behind her when he uttered an eerie shriek and started to scream again. He was hoarse now, and louder in consequence.

Sarah froze, with her hand on the handle of the door. "Aah," she moaned helplessly. "I wish the goblins would come and take you away…" She paused.

The goblins were so still, you could have heard a snail blink.

" … right now," Sarah said.

In the goblins' nest, there was an exhalation of pleasure. "She said it! " In a trice, all the goblins had vanished in different directions, save only the stupid goblin.

He squatted there, a grin dawning on his face, until he realized that the rest had left him. "Hey," he said, "wait for me," and he tried to run in several directions at once. Then he, too, vanished.

Lightning flashed and thunder hammered the air. Toby gave out with a high-pitched screech, and Merlin barked as if all the burglars in the world were closing in.

To Be Continued…

Labyrinth Explanation As you probably guessed, the title is a copy of the logo from the actual movie.

This story is a little different from my other ones; it comes from a modern story with copyright laws protecting it. However, I am just doing this for fun, and going from what the internet seems to says about parodies and fan-art, this is okay as long as I’m not making money off of this. Just thought you should know.

Okay! So the first picture is a little funny looking. It’s supposed to look a lot like the opening picture in the movie, with Merlin added in. But I’m glad to say all the pictures improve from there.

I don’t have much to say about the second picture. I just tried to make the stepmom look vaguely like the Evil Queen from Snow White.

I am EXTREMELY proud of the third picture. I spend hours copying the very cluttered room of Sarah. In fact, I was so proud of myself, I forgot to add Sarah! I had to add her in later.

The fourth picture was difficult to add a goblin to; at first I was just to have one peeking out from under the dress. It didn’t work though, sadly.

The teddy bear was really difficult to add to as well. Oh well.

The next one is supposed to look like the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. I figured a silly story like that would appeal to a girl like Sarah, with a head full of dreams and impetuosity. The dress she’s dressed in is from later in the movie; her Romeo is just the Goblin King.

So, the goblins in the picture full of goblins are based on the movie goblins. Most of my other goblins honestly look more like Dobby from Harry Potter, but these are true Labyrinth goblins. I added a couple to the ones already in that scene in the movie; you can see them on the right, though I think you can tell.

The last picture is my second favorite from this story. I think my perspective is a little funny, but I like to think you can see the concern, annoyance and indecision on Sarah’s face.

Additional notes from years later

At the time I drew this, I didn't understand that goblins were often used, especially more recently, to make fun of other people's facial features and the like. I don't think Labyrinth was made with that intention, but if that upsets you, please know I understand and my later art is more mindful of that.

IRL, I 'publish' these stories in little books of 3-5 tales, and I used to try and add a visual theme to connect between those tales. The first four, Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and the Little Mermaid, they all had mothers named after each other. Snow White's mother was named Undine (water nymph), Cinderella's mater was Schéiwaiss Puttel (Snow White), Rosaline's mama was Pelenén (another name for Cinderella) and Ondine's mom was Bella-Durmiente (kinda obvious for that one).

This story was paired with Mulan, The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, and The Princess Bride. So the common theme was that I included a goblin in every picture - including the titles. Try and spot them!

Original post can be NOT found here, sadly.

And I've ordered the original copy, to honor the author, but if you're curious, you can find the Labyrinth novelization here. I don't think this was an authorized upload, but it helped me when I was working on this story and it's still up 5 years later!

#labyrinth #wac #wac repost

[trambrosia]

This is fucking great, made me weep, chew drywall, etc

I died, and you carried me. I gambled, and you covered my bet. You kept the faith, and were the instrument of both my vengeance and my grace. And now I have fought through time, and the River, and Ianthe the First—fought and bested Ianthe the First, and I hope I never fight her ever again … Will you not look at me now, Cam, and know me? — Nona the Ninth (24)

Not saying these are all deliberate references, but Labrynth tickled my brain when I was reading and I looked up more.

I was naked, and you clothed me. I was sick, and you took care of me. I was in prison, and you visited me — Matthew 25:36 (ISV)

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen. —attributed to St. Francis of Assisi

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me! — Labrynth (1986)

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. — 2 Timothy 4:7-8 (CEB)

After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. When the disciples saw the Lord, they were filled with joy. — John 20:20 (CEB)

[Ianthe's body] placed its arms over the flooding wound in Camilla’s side — Nona the Ninth (24)

I hope I never fight these demons again, I wish that I could see you screaming again, Came in my life and now you leaving again, He go to sleep and get to dreaming again, He see your pictures, get to fiending again, You got me begging you to see you again, Hoping I see your face — You'll Be Sorry, BLEU (2020)

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona spoilers #nona the ninth #tlt #locked tomb

[8bitluv-erica]

As the world falls down

one of my favorite movies!!! labyrinth is to me a timeless movie and story. From the time I was 7 yrs old and saw it for the first time, to present day at age 33 I still watch it, still swoon over the goblin king, still think Sarah is absolutely stunning, as beautiful as a princess in her fairy tale. And the music still brings a smile to my face.

commissions open

#labyrinth #jim henson #jim hensen #jareth #sarah williams #david bowie #the goblin king #the goblin city #i have made my way to the castle beyond the goblin city #to take back the child you have stolen #you have no power over me #sarah x jareth #jareth x sarah #the goblin king and sarah #sareth #8bitluv #likesharecomment #like and share #likes and reblogs appreciated #comments #comment #comments are love #comments please #commisions open #commission me #art commissions

[corvus--rex]

This prologue is going on longer than I thought, but it will be over soon, probably one more short chapter. But until then, I'm so sorry, have some baby Keith angst.

one more for the Galra cat glossary: tehrl - a miniature feline (smaller than a housecat) that are kept as pets and pest control

~*~*~*~

They had been traveling for over a day, stopping only when necessary. It was night again, and Krolia sat in the carriage, watching the landscape pass by, the sleeping form of her kit curled against her side. She tucked the soft blanket around him more snugly, a tender smile on her lips as he let out a soft, contented purr and snuggled harder against his mother. One hand kept him close while the other reached under the neckline of her traveling dress to pull out the depiction of Marmora she always wore.

Marmora was the Galra central goddess. A queen of legend, she was deified after her death for having managed to unify the disparate Galra kingdoms against a common enemy. Before then, the Unilu hadn’t been thought of as a threat by anyone, the race of small, four-armed goblins more of an annoyance than anything. But they were clever, and made up for their size with numbers. They knew that to attack a place like Altea was suicide, but the constantly-warring Galra kingdoms would be far easier. Marmora called for the separate kingdoms to unify under her banner to go to war against the threat. While they tacitly agreed at first, soon the other kingdoms realized that they never would have survived without her leadership. The Unilu were soundly defeated and Marmora led the Galra to a new age for their race, one that had continued for generations.

Krolia ran her thumb across the relief set into her medallion. The ancient Galra queen stood proudly, her sword-bearing arm held high, the other holding a ball of violet flame. She stared at it, drawing some comfort from her ancestor before letting the pendant drop. She turned back to the carriage’s small window and watched the land change from the deep, dark woods of Daibazaal to the green forests of Altea. It would take at least another two days of travel to reach the capitol. They would arrive exhausted from their journey and she could only hope that she would reach it before any messenger from Zarkon and that King Alfor would welcome them.

The little prince had no trouble keeping himself occupied during his waking hours, something Krolia was infinitely grateful for. He still believed that they were on a surprise vacation and that they would be meeting his father somewhere along the way. She kept it to herself, but she had felt their bond snap when they were not far from the castle. She knew what the stretch of distance felt like, the pain of longing for her mate when they were separated by royal duty. This was not that. This was a ship’s line breaking, the thick rope hitting her like a whip’s crack. This was glass shattering on a stone floor, glittering shards spread wide. It left her raw and bleeding, with a deep ache for a mate she would never see again. Krolia let herself feel it only in the dark of night, where she would wrap herself in her voluminous cloak tighter, hold her kit closer, and let the tears fall silently.

Another full day of traveling through Altea, and Keith was beginning to become bored of the endless carriage ride. Leaving his coloring on the floor, he climbed onto the seat and into his mother’s lap, immediately finding the soft fur of his tail and running his tiny claws through it.

“Where are we going, Mama?” he asked. “When are we gonna get there? Where’s Papa?”

Krolia sighed. She knew her kit’s inquisitive nature wouldn’t stay quiet for long and that she would have to tell him sooner rather than later. She decided that answering his questions in order would be best.

“We’re going to Altea, little one. We should be there around this time tomorrow.” She paused, knowing that there were parts of their last night in their home that weren’t for little ears. “Your Papa – he’s – I’m so sorry, kit. Your Papa won’t be coming with us.”

Keith was too young to understand what his mother wasn’t saying. “Why?” he asked innocently, “Did Papa hafta go on a trip again?” He was familiar with his father’s diplomatic meetings, sometimes in places far from the Daibazaal capitol and their home.

Krolia sighed again, willing her tears back. “No, kit. There are bad people in our home now, and I don’t know when we’ll be able to go back. We’re going to Altea to ask for their help. Your Papa sacrificed himself so we could get away safely.”

The kit’s face screwed up in confusion. “What bad people? And what’s sa…sack-if-iced?”

“People your Papa and I thought we trusted. One of the generals of our army, Zarkon. He wants to rule Daibazaal himself instead of your Papa. He decided to take what he wanted, and your Papa died so we can be safe.”

Keith only had a vague understanding of death. His only encounter with it had been when his pet tehrl died after being poisoned by an angry former member of castle staff. Their dismissal, to no one’s surprise, had been due to behavioral problems and killing the small prince’s beloved pet had earned them a stay in the city jail for a few months. Keith at first couldn’t understand why the miniature feline wouldn’t play with him like it always did. But his guard sent for the queen, and Krolia explained that the tiny cat had died and what that meant. She allowed her small kit to hold something of a funeral for the animal, but his child’s attention span moved on to something else not long after, even though she knew he still missed his companion. It seemed that the meaning of death hadn’t progressed in his mind beyond his lost pet, and it was a concept he couldn’t quite apply to his father.

“You remember Rrahr?”

Keith nodded, thinking back to finding his tehrl motionless on the floor by its food dish. Something clicked, and he looked up at his mother, eyes wide. “Is that what happened to Papa?” he asked, his voice trembling, “Did the bad people hurt my Papa so he can’t come back?” His ears flattened and his tail dropped, suddenly afraid of his mother’s answer.

“They did. I am so sorry, little one. Your Papa’s not coming back.”

Violet eyes quickly filled with tears that spilled over, leaving dark stains running down the fine, soft fur, and he scrambled in his mother’s lap, throwing his arms around her neck, sobs racking his small body. Krolia held him, running her claws through his hair, trying to hold it together for him. But she couldn’t, not in the face of her son’s innocence, and held him tightly while her own tears fell, privately mourning the loss of King Davvik in the roles he cherished most; those of beloved Alpha and mate to Krolia, and the devoted and loving father to his young son. She held Keith until his sobs subsided into hiccupped tears and finally into the even breath of sleep. When she was sure she wouldn’t wake him, Krolia tucked herself against the back of the deep velvet cushion and wrapped her thick cloak around her sleeping kit, and let sleep take her as well.

Keith was withdrawn and quiet for their last day of travel. His toys and pencils couldn’t hold his attention, and he sat beside Krolia, arms wrapped around his stuffed rakhai and stared out the window. He only perked up the smallest amount when they entered Altea’s capitol. He saw the glowing white spires of the castle and turned to his mother, tugging on her sleeve.

“Is that where we’re going, Mama?” he asked quietly.

Krolia nodded. “Yes, it is, kit. We haven’t been stopped by the city guard, so it looks like we’re safe for now. I’ll need to talk to King Alfor and then I’ll know what’s going to happen, alright?”

Keith sniffled, burying his face in his favorite stuffed animal. “I want Papa,” he said through a new round of tears.

Krolia picked him up, hugging him in her lap. “I know, kit. I do too. We’ll just have to take our home back for him.” The combination of finally arriving in Altea’s capitol city and her son’s grief gave her new determination. Queen Krolia of Daibazaal would reclaim her throne, restore Marmora’s line, and ensure that no one would ever forget what happened that night.

~*~*~*~

Intro | Prologue pt 1 | Prologue pt 2

#my writing #galtean klance #royal klance #Prince Keith #Prince Lance #galra keith #altean lance #magic #Keith is a purple kitty #Lance is a brat #keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #keith x lance #abo #omegaverse #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender

[rayne-storm]

AUgust 10 - Utopia

Title: BREAKING NEW MIRRORS

Fandom: Labyrinth

Implied Jareth/Sarah

This is significantly stylistically different from most of the writing I have here, and I would be fine if someone wants to call it more prose poetry than necessarily regular-form fiction. I had a ton of fun writing this, and I hope y'all like it!!!

All is not as it seems

Everything was perfect. Perfectly ordinary, perfectly predictable, perfectly content. Everyone knew who they were, what they could be, and how to handle every possibility.

Day came and everyone went to their occupations, doing their work, talking to friends and neighbors, going to lunch on their days off, going for drinks after work, going home to their pets or families, eating a relaxing dinner, listening to the radio, and going to bed.

Everyone was happy.

All is not as it seems.

Day came and everyone went to their occupations, and some went to their employment offices, filling out forms, taking tests, talking to occupational counselors, finding fulfillment in doing their best to serve their community in the best way they could, going home after the office closed and talking about their day to their pets or their families, eating a relaxing dinner, watching tv, and going to bed.

Everyone was happy.

All is not as it seems.

Day came and everyone went to their occupations, and some went to school, learning new trades, learning their history, learning to communicate, learning to be happy, going home after and sharing their lessons with their pets or families, eating a relaxing dinner (perhaps using a new recipe they learned at school), reading a book, and going to bed.

Everyone was happy.

All is not as it seems.

Day came and everyone went to their occupations, or the employment office, or school- except for Sarah Williams, daughter of The Williamses that lived on Maple and Crane and whose new baby had just turned 2.

Sarah Williams was not really their daughter though, because she had far too much of both of her biological parents in her.

Sarah Williams was equal parts dreamer and actualizer. In school she had never quite fit in, but she knew she was made for more than childcare, for babysitting and nannying a baby that was only half-related to her, or any neighbor child that needed to be looked after.

Sarah Williams knew that something was wrong.

Everyone was happy.

All is not as it seems.

Day came and-

(Sarah Williams had found a secret)

Everyone went to-

(she found it in the library behind the oldest of the knitting catalogues)

Their occupations-

(it was a little red book called "LABYRINTH")

Or the employment office-

("say your right words" the Goblin King said)

Or school-

("Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered-")

Then going

("-I have fought my way here-")

Home

("-the Castle beyond the Goblin City-")

To their pets

("-to take back-")

Or families

("-the child you have stolen")

Eating a relaxing dinner

("For my will is as strong as yours")

Doing a puzzle

("And my kingdom as great")

And going-

("You-")

To Bed.

All is not as it seems

Sometimes police sirens are heard, and everyone closes their blinds and stays inside, no matter where they are or what time it is.

It's best that way.

Everyone was happy.

All is not as it seems.

The sirens came for Sarah Williams.

The sirens left with Sarah Williams.

But Sarah Williams had a secret.

Day came and-

"I wish-"

Day came-

"I wish the Goblin King would-"

Day came and everyone went-

"I Wish! The Gob-"

Day came and everyone went to their occupations-

"IwishtheGoblinKingwouldcomeandtakemeawayrightnow!"

All is not as it seems.

Everything was perfect. Perfectly ordinary, perfectly predictable, perfectly content. Everyone knew who they were, what they could be, and how to handle every possibility.

Everyone was happy.

And Sarah Williams escaped.

All is not as it seems, and the goblins have a new queen, and little does this sleepy little utopia know what's about to hit them.

#my writing #rayne writes #au gust 2021 #au-gust #fanfic #labyrinth #jareth x sarah

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 13 (Final Chapter)

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - ... Art - Art - Art

To those of you who have made it this far through this story; congratulations. You literally just read a novel length romance about a Goblin King and a Human Prince. The final tally for this story? 149,053 Words. In my doc file, this totals to 239 pages (size 11/arial font) . I made a final art piece to commemorate this chapter, HERE.

This has been... Such a journey. Such an adventure. I have loved every last second of this and I hope you all did too. I don’t know how this chapter will be received, but for now, this will be the end for Nikostratus and Grier...

Thank you all so very much for your support, and please please PLEASE reblog/comment/ask/DM me with your thoughts or prompts or ideas or headcannons. I love these two and I can’t talk about them enough...

If you love this story, please also consider supporting me on BuyMeACoffee which you can access through my MasterList above. Want more of the boys? I’d willingly take commissions on them, or any of my other characters (or a new one, just for you!). Times are tough for everyone, and I hope I was able to bring a little light for a time with this story...

Much love, and thank you.

I skimmed the last line once more, then glanced over the entire document to be sure that everything else was properly in order before signing my name neatly at the bottom. I passed the page to Hibik and turned to the next. I felt the very tip of my eyebrow twitch as my eyes settled on it and I looked up at the goblin.

“Lord Hibik-”

“Apologies, My Prince,” He rushed to explain, “I know you do not usually sign anything that is in goblinese. However, this is simply a trade manifesto from one of the outlying cities. If you so wish, I can translate every word for you before you sign.”

I waited patiently for him to finish, but plucked up the parchment and held it out to him none-the-less. “While I appreciate your diligence, and certainly trust you in all manners of state, I simply cannot sign anything I cannot read for myself.” I told him, my voice formal and flat, but still with the lingering edges of my exhaustion in it. “I have no doubt it is exactly what you say it is, however should I choose to sign it and it is brought before me at some other time, I would be unable to distinguish it from anything else in goblinese.” I shook my head. “If I cannot understand something without a mediary, then I should not be trying to pass authority on it.”

Hibik nodded, dropping his gaze lightly. Seeming humbled. “Of course, My Prince. You have proven once more your unerring logic in such matters of state... My apologies to have questioned your wisdom at all.”

“Have it translated if it is urgent. Otherwise, it shall just have to wait until my goblinese has advanced or…” I dropped off, and felt my throat get tight.

The King’s secretary nodded again, and I could see the sad tinge around his eyes at my words. I started to search for some formal platitude. Some simple comfort to reassure him that everything would be fine… But I found the lie stuck to the roof of my mouth uncomfortably and I could not force it free. I looked down at the last document on the desk before me instead, pretending to read through it. My eyes ran over the first paragraph about four times before I was finally able to begin actually comprehending it. I tried not to think about the fact that the Master Healer was still visiting with the only other person with authority to sign such documents. And the painful knowledge that the individual was still in no state to do so. I tried to resist the urge to look over at the door to his chambers every few seconds. As if I would be able to discern what was happening or what fresh prognosis the Healer would bring. And I worked very hard to deny that I already knew what his conclusions would be.

It took me a little longer than usual to read the final document that required my signature, but finally it was done. Just as I was finishing with the usual dab of my quill at the end of my full name, there was a light knock on the door. I glanced up as Seoc opened it, and was mildly surprised to see the General standing beyond, his hands neatly tucked behind his back.

Hibik took the final page to sand as Seoc and Damjan spoke together softly. When Seoc glanced over at me, I gave him a small nod of approval, which he quickly relayed to the General. Damjan strode over slowly, a few crumpled pages in his own hands. I resisted the urge to sigh, and the prickling of hairs at the back of my neck as I longed to be done with all this official tedium. Longed to be back in the quiet solitude of the King’s sick room. I swallowed the lump in my throat as subtly as I was able, and moved to stand in order to greet the General.

He raised one large hand. “Perhaps it is best if you remain seated, My Prince.” He informed me as his own greeting, which splashed a cold chill down my spine.

Hibik lingered, signed documents in hand, glancing between myself and Damjan. I saw the pair exchange a brief glance, one which communicated far more than most, and saw the edges of the secretary’s lips twitch. Perhaps debating if he should stay. But when he glanced over to me again, I waved him away with a reassuring nod.

“Thank you for your time, My Prince.” he told me hesitantly, bowing low. 

Damjan shifted as Hibik made his way out, and I turned my attention to him. “What brings you, General?”

The hesitation he presented me with had another icy breath running down my back. I watched the man shift again, clenching and unclenching his oversized hands around the papers within them. I glanced down at that, then back up to his face. I allowed one eyebrow to raise ever so slightly. Damjan cleared his throat.

“I have just received word from our… “contacts” in the Kingdom of Geriveria.” He told me, his voice thin with his persistent reluctance.

He dropped off, and I made a point not to let my eyes wander. Fixing him with a steadfast gaze. When he still had not spoken after a few moments, I tapped one finger lightly on the small table beside me where I had set my quill and inkwell.

“I assume you have some news which you deemed important enough to bring before me.” I concluded flatly, and was not reassured as the General winced. “Please, proceed.”

Damjan straightened, collecting himself. “... Our contacts have confirmed the information stating King Tibertius had fallen ill just after our visit to the castle…” He gritted his teeth, and dropped his eyes, “... And I have just received word… that last night he succumbed to his illness.”

The world around me seemed to shift at his words... I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Wasn’t sure what that news elicited in me. I froze for a moment, staring at him blankly. I felt my thumb roll thoughtlessly against the fabric of the armchair I was seated in.

“... The human King is dead?”

I watched his eyes flick up to me from the ground, equally uncertain what to make of my uncharacteristically callous and pointed remark. He nodded slowly. “Yes… It has not been formally announced yet, however I am confident in our sources who have reported it.”

I turned this over for a moment in the hollow echoing expanse of my mind. “Was it the Rotting Sickness?” My voice sounded distant, and I wasn’t entirely sure I had spoken at all.

“It is unclear at this time, though we do not believe it likely.” He responded softly. “Even given that he refused our protective Warding, there were other factors in place for his benefit.”

I nodded ever so slightly, running my whole hand slowly over the arm of my chair now. “Crown Prince Valerianus will send formal word to us soon.” I told him. “Be sure to have an appropriate response prepared. And tighten the patrols and guard at the border, in case there is any backlash from the announcement.”

I saw him hesitate again. “... My Prince-”

“Keep abreast of your ‘contacts’ as well.” I continued, pretending he hadn’t spoken. “I wish to know if Crown Prince Valerianus is officially coronated, or if he otherwise sets a date for it.” I glanced off to the side, hardly realizing I was no longer really seeing anything around myself anymore. “I will draft a letter for him, and a formal statement, in preparation for that news as well.”

Damjan nodded his affirmation. “As you wish, My Prince…” He chewed on his tongue only briefly before speaking again, “... And if you need someone to talk to… I wanted to let you know I am here for you. In whatever capacity you may have need of me.”

I stood, unhurried, and tugged my vest to straighten it as I did. “I do appreciate the offer, General, but there is no need.”

“Prince Nikostratus,” He followed quickly, before I could dismiss him, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, “Whatever else your relationship with that man was… he was still your father.” I stiffened slightly at the word. “This is not easy news to bear, in any situation.”

I returned my gaze to him, my expression still set in stone. “Thank you for your concern, General Damjan, however I can assure you, I am fine.” I paused briefly, glancing over towards the bedroom in a moment of weakness. “... I would request this information remains between us for now, though.” I almost winced, but squared my shoulders instead. Keeping my voice even, my features stony. “I believe it would be best for Princess Morgana to hear this news from me.”

He dipped his head respectfully. “Of course, My Prince.” I nearly jumped with surprise as his big hand fell on my shoulder. “Whatever you need. Do not hesitate to ask.”

I nodded to him curtly, and he withdrew his hand. Dropping into a polite bow before he took his leave. I turned my attention to the back room, making my way over with halting steps intermittently set amid my long stride. The Master Healer was just gathering up his things as I approached. He turned and bowed to me, his long beard brushing the floor.

“My Prince.” He intoned respectfully.

“How is the King?” I asked, my voice flat to withhold my impending dread of his answer.

The Master Healer flinched, unable to conceal his thoughts quite so easily. “He remains the same, My Prince.” He replied softly. “I have given him a tonic to ease his symptoms and perhaps allow for a more fitful rest… However there is not much more I can offer for him at this time.”

I nodded, burying the sorrow and disappointment at his words deep into my already hollowed out chest. “Thank you, Your Grace,” My eyes followed him as he slowly raised from his bow, “I appreciate your efforts greatly.”

“I only wish there was more I could do, My Prince.” He murmured.

Another curt nod. Which was the best I could manage. “Seoc will show you out.” I informed him numbly.

My attendant closed the bedroom door behind them, for which I was grateful. They had all stopped trying to convince me to retire to my own chambers a few days ago, as they had realized it would fall on ears both too stubborn and too deaf to their pleas. Even Morgana and ina Morag relented their persuasive efforts, instead focusing on bringing whatever they could to me here. I tried to pretend I stayed out of duty and responsibility. I tried to pass off my vigil as nothing more than what would be expected of any other individual so politically tied to the King as I was. It made it easier, in a way, than trying to accept my real reasons... It stung that I was apparently not hiding it well from the others; that they could see my vulnerability, and perhaps that they had some understanding of my decision that I could not grasp myself.

Slowly, I lowered myself into the armchair beside the bed, finally building the courage to look upon the King once more. I watched his labored breathing for a few long minutes, listening to the raspy rush of air in and out of his lungs. My palms came to my lap, and I thumbed at them absentmindedly as I felt the stone I had sheltered behind for the formal proceedings slowly cracking and crumbling away.

I glanced down at my hands, and found they were shaking. “.... King Tibertius is dead.” I informed him, my voice soft to preserve the hushed silence of the chamber. I hesitated, squeezing my thumb into my palm until it hurt. “... my… my father... is dead…” I finally released a heavy sigh, and felt my shoulders slump. “... I honestly don’t… I don’t know how to feel about it…”

My gaze lifted back to look over at him, and I shuddered at the sight. I didn’t like seeing him lay so still. I had spent days watching him, a statue on guard at his side. Silent and unmoving. I wasn’t sure I could do it for even a moment longer. I shifted, then stood again, reaching over to take up the cooling cloth from the water basin beside the bed. I settled on the edge of the mattress beside him. So that I could reach him better, I told myself. I brushed the wild bangs out of his face, then smoothed the damp cloth across his brow. 

He seemed to sigh beneath my touch, and I bent over him to study his face. His skin was more grey than green now, and I could feel the heat rising off his body. I traced my eyes over the edge of his jaw, down to the point of his chin. I committed the shape of his nose to memory, and lingered on the curve of his lashes against his cheek. Before I had even realized I was doing it, I found my fingers skimming along the prominent ridge of his brow, and my thumbs smoothing down his slender eyebrows. He shifted beneath my touch, so slightly I thought perhaps I might have imagined it. I withdrew my hand, hesitating. Placing the cloth back in the basin on the bedside table. But I couldn’t help returning to cup his face, and run my thumb along the crest of his cheek. I felt the tiny beveling of his grey-green skin, taking a moment for it. I had never so carefully studied the quality of his flesh without some other thought or pressure weighing on me. I chose to do so now. To memorize everything I possibly could... His fever burned at the pads of my hand, but I ignored it.

The now familiar ache settled in my chest, throbbing with each pulse of my heart. I ran my hand down the side of his face, along the curve of his throat. My fingers cupped around the back of his neck, and I gave a gentle squeeze. I stared at his eyes, longing for them to open again. Longing to see those mischievous, sparkling red irises. It had been days since he had last opened his eyes… Not since he had begged me to lay alongside him…

With his last request heavy on my mind, I looked over my shoulder at the door, then back down at him. My numb fingers rose of their own accord, and fumbled with the buttons on my vest. Then tugged my tunic haphazardly from its tuck as I folded the vest to set on the cushion of the armchair beside us. Once my boots joined it, I took a steadying breath then carefully climbed into the bed next to him. Now I knew I wasn’t imagining it when his head turned weakly. As if he could sense me there… I knew I was fooling myself. I gently collected him into my arms, and nearly faltered for the limpness of his body. But there was a strange reassurance of feeling his raspy breath against my collarbone. I rested my chin on the top of his head, shivering slightly despite the hot body I had tucked against me.

“... I don’t know how to tell Morgana…” I breathed quietly, uncertain what else to do. My eyes squeezed shut. “Gods… I just… I-I can’t… With everything else…” I wrapped my arms a little further around him. “... Please... Grier…” The taste of his name stung my mouth. “I can’t do this by myself…” I swallowed hard. “Y-you always asked me what I wanted… a-and I never had an answer for you… Usually because I just.. I didn’t know… but…” I buried my face in his damp hair. “But I know I don’t want this… and I know I was… hesitant… A-and… maybe reluctant to… to let this relationship be anything more than political...” The words felt heavy and foreign in my mouth, yet as I spoke them, it seemed easier to voice the rest. I shook my head, still working to dam the pain starting to build in my throat and eyes. “But that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean that I…” I stopped again, swallowing hard and taking a deep steadying breath. “Please… I need… I n-need you to get better… I need you to come back… I-I don’t know what I’m doing anymore… I need you to tell me…” I closed my eyes, knowing I was gushing uselessly, but unable to help myself. “Y-you asked me… you asked me to be strong… to do the best for…” I hesitated. “For our people… I’m… I’m trying… but I-I’m… I’m not the best for them… You are… and I-I… I can’t… It’s… I-it sounds stupid but…” Again I stopped, and laid quietly beside him. Hearing his steady if ragged breathing against me. Feelin the heat of him burn through the fabric of my tunic. Trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and emotions rallying to burst from me.  “... I never used to think of my future… I-I didn’t think I had much of one… but… b-but now I can’t think of a future for me… of a future without you in it…”

I held my breath for a long moment. As if waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him to fill the long silence as he always had before… Instead, I felt myself being blanketed by it. Felt it wriggle and stuff its way down my throat, until it threatened to choke the very air out of my lungs. I hated the silence, as I never had before. It burned and rang in my ears. It smothered me.

“W-what am I doing?” I mumbled to myself, trying to rid myself of the stillness and slowly starting to untangle my body from the goblin’s. “I’m losing my mind-”

I froze suddenly. Not daring to move. Not even daring to draw a breath. After a few shuttering beats of my heart, I slowly looked down to confirm what I thought I had felt… And found Grier’s hand latched weakly on my arm. As if he had heard me. As if he had felt me start to pull away from him.

I knew it was stupid. I was certain it was just some sort of… reflexive reaction. But then he shifted, burying his nose back against my shirt. And I decided I didn’t care. I latched onto the hope that maybe… just maybe… he had somehow heard me. He had sensed my body beside his. 

I suddenly remembered the Dowager Queen Morag’s words again as clearly in my mind as if she had been standing over us at that moment. He has good reason to. Is this what she had meant? If Grier needed a reason to come back, to fight this… then perhaps I could remind him he had one… Hadn’t he once said he could listen to the sound of my voice all night? I wondered if he could hear it from wherever he was. If it could bring him back...

“... Hibik has been bringing me any matters of state that need approval.” I told him softly, hesitantly. “I swear… it seems endless… there’s always something else to sign, something else to review…” I sighed, shifting slightly, biting at my tongue for a long moment. “... At least right now, I can use the excuse of not knowing goblinese… that cuts the paperwork down some…” I swallowed, trying to think what else to say. Already feeling anxious that the silence was building too long. “A-all I know is the alphabet… and Korol… Ussta bez, eto chen… umm… Nazia which means ‘name’... a-ah, but you know that…” I flushed slightly. Then I felt him shift against me, felt his breath on my neck, and almost shivered. I hesitated, then ran my hand over the back of his head. “Wh-what else… umm.. Cara, and ina… shiba, onsa… your mother calls Morgana onsakin… th-they get along a little too well, I think…”

I struggled for a while, feeling foolish. But the softness of his breath against my skin, and his hand on my arm, gave me the confidence to continue. For whatever it was worth...

….

“When I was five or so, I got sick like this,” I told him, brushing my fingers through his hair, “High fever, raspy lungs. I remember my mother sat with me all night. Read me stories, and stroked my head until I fell asleep.” I paused, twirling one strand of his hair around my finger. “... We have portraits of her in the halls. Not many, but a few. So I’ll never forget her face… I’d like to send for one, I think… If that would be alright with you.” I put the strand back and delicately picked up another. “But I also remember how she smelled… strange isn’t it? That’s what I remember best about her. She smelled like lilies. I don’t know how, but she always smelled like fresh picked lilies… It hurts a little to think that Morgana smells a lily and doesn’t think of our mother like I do.” My lips twitched distractedly. “Now she thinks of me, because she knows how much I like them… She doesn’t understand quite why… I-I don’t know if I ever told her.”

Grier shifted, nuzzling himself against me and letting out a soft sigh. I released his hair to reach carefully across the bed. Plucking the cloth from the basin. I would need to get more soon; all the water was almost gone. I wrung out the excess, then gently smoothed it across his forehead. Then over his temples. I turned his head and traced it across his lips. His long tongue came out briefly to swipe the moisture that lingered there.

“I remember her voice, too… She had a delicate voice. I don’t think she ever raised it much above a whisper.” I shook my head. “She never yelled… Whenever I did something that perhaps I shouldn’t have, she never yelled at me… She would just get this look… like she was disappointed I hadn’t made a better choice…” I snorted. “I think that was worse somehow… Morgana looks a lot like her, I think. Though my mother had this beautifully rich dark skin… I was very jealous of it. I wanted to have the color of her skin for my own. And it was always very soft.”

I ran the cloth back and forth over his neck. Around the edge of his shoulder blades. Down his spine. Smoothing it across his muscles and grey-green skin.

“I think she would have liked you… I hope she would have… I-I’m not sure how she would have felt about… all this.” I glanced around the chambers, delicately lit by a few sparkling candelabras, strategically placed. I had tucked the rest into neat rows along the tops of the bookshelves. Looking less cluttered and more displayed. “Not the goblin part… I think she would’ve been ah… mostly ok with that…” I chuckled, returning the cloth to the basin and brushing my hand through his soft hair again. “... I don’t think I had really thought about it much back then… girls, I mean…” I swallowed hard, staring down at the foot of the bed while I stroked his hair. “O-or boys for that matter… I wonder if she would’ve been... s-surprised… Though she always seemed to know me better than I knew myself… Valerianus was very, ah... ‘serious’, so the court girls didn’t care for him much, save for the ambitious ones. But they were always fawning over me…” I frowned. “I-I didn’t like it. I hated going to balls and galas or formal dinners. My mother would just laugh and say that I would figure it out when I was a little older…” I sighed. “It sounds silly now, I’m sure… Then she….” I dropped off, taking a steadying breath. “A-and Morgana was the center of my world after that, so I never... I never really questioned it again… I was very good at being polite, at being gracious. But I never returned any… ah…” I shook my head again. “I think… I think I was a year or two shy of twenty when I saw… this man… he was… ah…” I cleared my throat lightly, “He was from another Kingdom… older, but only barely in his thirties if even that… I just remember being struck absolutely dumb by him… I could hardly breathe when I realized he was in the same room as me, and I kept staring… by the Gods it was so embarrassing… I didn’t know what to do with myself around him…” 

I jumped at the light knock coming from beyond the bedchambers. Quickly, I looked down at Grier, but he was still in a deep sleep. He was tucked quite neatly against me, his arms wrapped around my middle, his ear against my sternum. He looked rather like he was smiling, I thought. It had been only a day or two since I had given up my post in the armchair beside the bed in favor of lying alongside him. And I hadn’t left since. We are married now after all, I reasoned with my guilt and self-consciousness. I should be allowed... I ran through all the different things I had started telling him since then. Arbitrary things at first. The way the mountains looked out my window. The odd items he had left about the room and where I had put them. Then I started opening up a little more. Telling him little snips of my memories. About the first horse I had ever ridden, and the first time I had held a sword. About Morgana’s first steps, and her first words. 

Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed like his sleep was less listless when I was speaking. And I found I felt a little better talking to him, rather than lying quietly and simply worrying over the state of him. I constantly feared leaving the silence for too long, as if it were the only tether he had. Barely daring to sleep for fear of it… I wasn’t sure I had ever spoken as much as I had in the past two days.

I stroked his hair back a final time, then carefully untangled myself from his embrace. A soft groan petered from him, and his lips twitched. But I was able to free myself and lay him gently back into the bed.

By the second quiet knock, I was at the door in the foyer and tugging it open. Hibik and the Master Healer stood there, both looking appropriately serious. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t make an attempt to hide my bare torso or feet. Simply pulled the door open the rest of the way and let them in. Nodding to their gracious greetings and formal bows. I was far too exhausted to care about any of that, though I felt a familiar numbness falling about my shoulders like an old coat as I followed them into the bedroom. The Healer went straight to the King’s side, while Hibik moved to take the basin from the table and brought it off to the other room to fill. I saw the Healer’s hands glow, watched him shift them back and forth over Grier’s body, as he had many times before. For his part, the King rolled slightly, grumbling something softly. It made my heart leap lightly in denial of the numbness that had taken up residence in my chest. But I watched the Healer anxiously.

He lowered his hands as Hibik returned, and glanced over at the secretary. Then he shook his head and put his hands on his hips. My heart plummeted back down.

“Well, My Prince,” breathed the Healer, and I stiffened as he turned to me, “I am not sure what you have been doing… but I urge you to keep it up.”

I blinked at him slowly. “What?”

A wide smile suddenly split his lips, and his hands tapped eagerly on his hips. “He’s doing better… Much better really…” I nearly swooned at his words, and reached out to steady myself on the bedpost. “His fever is all but gone. His lungs are clearing… I might be able to do more for him now. A potion perhaps. To revive him more.”

Hibik could barely contain a gasp, and clapped his hands together, relief filling his face. “You mean, he’s going to be alright? He’ll pull through?”

The Healer scoffed. “It’s miraculous! Really it is!” He shifted his weight and looked over his shoulder. “Almost overnight, the King’s condition has improved drastically. I’ve never quite seen anything like it.” He nodded, smiling again. “... I do think the worst is now behind us.”

My head felt completely detached from my body, and I thought if I hadn’t been holding the bedpost I might have floated away. Hibik was dancing from foot to foot, making lengthy exclamations in goblinese. I didn’t need to know all the words to understand his excitement. To feel it palpably around us, though I dared not embrace it myself. The doctor patted the air.

“We still have some ways to go yet, My Prince, Lord Hibik.” He reminded us. “It’ll take time for the King to regain his strength. It may be a month or more before he fully returns to his old vigor.”

“But he will?” I asked, and was surprised at the softness of my voice.

The Healer gave a final nod. “I have little doubt anymore, My Prince. I shall prepare a draught for him. However, given his state... I would expect him to wake anytime now.”

Hibik squealed with delight, and I raised my hand to calm him. The goblin quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, and the Healer tutted him. I glanced at Grier, then back at the pair of goblins.

“Lord Hibik, would you let my sister know the good news, please?” I instructed, then nodded to the vase of wilting flowers on the small round table at the back of the couch. “Perhaps she would like to get a fresh bouquet for him. She can come visit when she’s able.”

“I am not certain our gardens can survive another visit from the Princess,” He mused with a chuckle, still shifting from foot to foot, “However, I am more than pleased to let her decimate the remaining for the sake of our King.”

“Have some hot broth ready for him, the kitchens can send it straight up,” I added, glancing at the Healer for confirmation of this choice, “And let the Dowager Queen know as well. Morgana may want to tell her herself however, so I would suggest she be the first you inform.”

“Excellent, My Prince,” Hibik bowed, “I am most eager to spread this joyous news.”

The Healer bowed deeply as well, then they both made their way out. I closed the door behind them, my entire body tingling. Now that they were gone, I pinched myself hard to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My feet carried me back to the bedroom of their own accord. And I climbed into the bed and slipped up alongside him. Almost as soon as I settled, Grier rolled into me, tucking himself into my chest once more. I felt his contented sigh against my breastbone, and nearly shivered from the sensation. I wrapped my arms gently around him, resting my chin on the top of his head once more.

“... I think Josep knew before I did.” I told him softly, running my hands up and down his back. “He was always lingering late into the night. Always refilling my wine as soon as it emptied… I’m not sure h-how he knew… I noticed the long glances, and couldn’t help a few of my own…” I sighed, burying my nose in his hair for a moment. “He was… cute… Just a little shorter than me, but thin as a bean pole… his hair was raven black, and his eyes were a soft stormy grey… But bright as the moon at midnight...”

….

A few hours later, I adjusted the flowers, plucking a few errant leaves and placing them in the waste bin. Morgana was an... ambitious picker. Sometimes the roots and half the rest of the plant came along with the bloom. But she always picked the best and most colorful flowers, and the bouquet she had brought was perhaps her largest and loveliest yet. Not for the least because of her enthusiasm presenting them. The room felt anxiously still in her absence and I brushed my fingers over the petals, drawing in a deep breath of their soft scent. Trying unsuccessfully to calm my racing heart now that I was alone again... Nearly alone.

“... Been making yourself at home, have you?”

I jumped about a foot in the air at the sound of the thin voice from over my shoulder. My heart leapt into my throat as I spun on my heel, and my eyes shot wide. A wry, tired smile greeted me, set below glittering scarlet eyes that shifted around the room only briefly before settling on me. I tried to remember the last time I had seen them... I didn’t realize how much I had missed them until that moment.

Grier. 

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I stared at him, my eyes, frozen in place. Not entirely convinced I wasn’t dreaming. Hardly able to believe what I was seeing as the goblin slowly eased himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. He cocked his head to the side, raising one slender brow at me.

“I come back from the dead, and this is the greeting I receive?” He pouted. “Honestly, I think I was hoping for a bit more-”

I was at the bed before he had even finished forming the words. I caught the back of his head in my hand, nearly falling over him as I kneeled on the side of the mattress in my desperation to reach him. Crashing our mouths together so suddenly it was almost painful. His words sputtered against my lips, but then I could taste his smile again and my heart ached. Gods, I had missed that too. The warmth of his kiss, the shape of his mouth. I didn’t want to leave it again. His own hand came up, cupping my jaw, returning my kiss with such enthusiasm I thought my lungs might just collapse. Which only served to remind me that I had forgotten how to breathe.

I pulled back, gasping for air for half a second. Then dove back in to kiss him again. Now I could feel his weak laughter bubbling against my lips. Gently he pulled himself away, stroking his hand along my cheek to still my pursuit, running his thumb under my eye.

“Now that’s more like it.” He murmured dreamily, his eyes looking carefully back and forth between mine.

I flushed deeply, feeling the heat sweep across my face with a fury to match how his own feverish skin had once been. I started to pull away bashfully. “I-I’m sorry-”

He pushed the words back into my mouth with another kiss, forcing them deep into my throat in denial of them. My heart thrummed with delight. I lost myself for a moment more, and our kiss deepened. But he felt weaker than I remembered, his press intense but not as strong. I reminded myself of the state of him, and did not fight to keep our mouths locked when he finally pulled back again. Even though I longed to do so...

“H-how are you feeling?” I asked breathlessly instead, lingering with the tips of our noses brushing together. I gripped the back of his neck firmly, as if afraid letting go would allow him to float off again, slowly easing to sit on the mattress beside him.

“Tired.” He admitted. “And by the Gods I can’t remember ever having been this hungry before in my life…” His smile returned, pointy teeth and all. “But better… much better.” His thumb traced the edge of my lashes. “... Now that I’ve seen you again.”

I couldn’t help laughing in relief, but it broke as it fell away from my lips, and I saw his brow furrow with concern. I shook my head and his hand at my cheek weakly moved to still me. He reached out with his free one, and I didn’t hesitate to meet it with mine between us. Intertwining our fingers together.

“I-I… I thought that… I thought…” I choked on the words, my lips trembling.

Grier kissed them gently. Stilling them with his own. He peeled back slowly, only to lean back in half a breath later to lightly kiss them again. I spun like a top, my heart racing so fast in my breast I wasn’t entirely sure it was beating at all.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, my young Prince” He assured me sweetly, and I stumbled over another laugh.

“I… I-I… I’ve been thinking… I’ve been thinking a lot…” I breathed, my voice still shaky.

“Uh-oh,” He mused, “That sounds ominous. Should I prepare myself?”

I sighed exasperatedly. “Would you sh-shut up for half a second?” I belittled the words with a light hearted tone, and punctuated it with a kiss of my own. 

In truth, I was so happy to hear his voice again, I could have collapsed from relief. I wanted to hear it more. I wanted to listen to his voice for days, and to stare into those scarlet eyes, and feel the shape of his mouth against mine. But… He smiled against me, and tried to kiss me again as I pulled away. I shook my head. I had something to say, and I needed to say it, before I lost my nerve.

 “I-I’ve been thinking… a-and... I’ve decided… I d-decided that… I-I…”

“I hope this isn’t a farewell speech.” He teased as I fumbled for the words again. I shot him a look, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut. But damn that his smirk wasn’t still there on those blasted lips of his.

I took a deep, steadying breath. Staring down at our laps to avoid the temptation of his mouth. The silence rang heavy for a second, and I felt him squeeze my hand encouragingly. I could’ve collapsed with the emotion that sent spinning through me. He had barely been up for five minutes and already he was seeking to give me whatever support he could... Reminding me exactly why I had so much to say… So I sucked in a full lungful of as much air as I could possibly manage.

“... I don’t want to move into your rooms. And I don’t want you to move into mine. I want to have new rooms. To be our rooms. Up in the tower, with a balcony. But the bedroom doesn’t need a window, that way it stays dark. So you can still sleep in. And I want a bed that’s so big I might sometimes lose you in it. A-and I want a room off to one side that we can use as a nursery… Painted yellow… and I want to adopt… but I also want a few kids of yours… I-I don’t think I could do mine, because I really don’t want to sleep with anyone else and if there’s a way that maybe you didn’t have to lay with anyone either I-I think that would be better. But there is absolutely NO way I’m doing th-the ‘magical route’ and… and I’m still not even sure you weren’t just messing with me. I want to bring one of the portraits of my mother, and put her in the sitting room. Over the fireplace. B-but that means no kissing there, because I don’t want her staring at us. Then I want thrones, for the throne room. Proper thrones, not just poofy chairs. Because I’m not sitting on the floor, and if we have audiences with anyone (which we should), we’ll need a proper throne room. And I want to go to the ocean, every few years at least. I want to sit on the beach with you and watch the sunset, preferably on our anniversary. And I want a dog. Not a small dog, a big dog. Like a hunting dog. I-I don’t know if you like dogs, but I’d like one. And if I get a dog, Morgana is going to want a dog too, so we’ll just have to have two big dogs and… and…”

I glanced up at this point amid my rush of words that spilled out unchecked. And dropped off at the sight of Grier’s face. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen his eyes so wide. I thought they might fall out of his head. I shifted nervously, glancing down at our hands then back up at him. Not sure what it was I saw on his features and suddenly feeling shy.

“O-or… or you know… we could talk about it more… i-if you wanted-”

Once again he cut off my words with a kiss. I started at first, then instantly melted against him. He weakly pulled me closer, and I obliged his whim, until he could wrap his arm around my neck. He fell sideways to the mattress and onto his back, pulling me with him, releasing my hand to grope up my side. Slipping beneath my loose tunic to skim over my bare skin. My heart leaped and thudded and I fed him a tiny gasp.

“W-wait, you’re still-” I tried to pull away, but the goblin stubbornly kept himself latched around me. I dared not pull too hard, as I didn’t want to hurt him. “Y-you’re still healing.” I managed to mumble out against his lips.

“I don’t care.” He growled, but dropped back, peering up at me draped over him. “I just… I don’t care… I’m so… I’m just so…” He pulled me down, kissing me again. It was softer this time, as tender as any first kiss. But so full to bursting of emotion that I felt like I could taste it in my heart. After a few hot breaths, he finally pulled back again. “... Exactly how long have I been out??” He teased.

A pained look swept across my face, and his hand quickly came around to cup my jaw again soothingly. “I-I thought… I thought you were going to die…” I whispered, my voice as weak as his touch, “I thought I was going to lose you… a-and then I realized… I realized I had been so s-scared of having something to lose… that I didn’t even realize I was already losing it… I didn’t…” I took a deep steadying breath. “I-I told myself that if you woke up… if you got better… I wouldn’t... I-I … I don’t want to spend the rest of my life w-wondering… wondering what I could have had… but was too afraid to want…”

“... And what do you want?” He asked quietly as my voice petered out, his scarlet eyes growing warm.

“... I want you, Grier…” I breathed, the air fluttering in my chest, and his grip tightened at the sound of his name falling from my lips, “I want you. I want all of you…”

When our mouths met again, it was not with heat. It was… soft… Like petals brushing together. As delicate as a champagne flute, and filled with that same bubbly sweetness… I sunk into his mouth, as deep as I could go. I never wanted to come up for air. I fell beneath the waves of his emotion and I was content to let myself drown that I could fill my lungs with it. The warmth I had been missing filled my chest; that warmth that only he could bring to me. And it spread out to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

I’m not sure how long we remained interlaced together, our mouths moving in unison. But finally, we pulled apart. Neither one initiating our separation, both simply feeling it was the right moment to. I felt his breath on my face and realized I had closed my eyes. I let them slowly flutter open, and when I looked down at those dazzlingly scarlet eyes… I smiled.

His hand came up, his thumb tracing across my lips. Marveling at the shape of them. Which only made my smile grow, though I flushed shyly at his attention and darted my eyes to the side. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smiled… A soft wonder filled those ruby reds of his, and I suddenly and desperately longed to kiss him again. To taste every inch of him that my mouth could reach. Instead I slowly started to sit up. Gently pulling him with me.

“Y-you need to eat.” I told him softly. “To build up your strength…” I caught his hand as he slowly let it slide down my cheek, and I pressed it against my chest above my heart. “You need to get better. All the way better.”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Good.” I said in a warning tone. “B-because I swear to the Gods and all that is holy, if you ever put me through that again, I will kill you.”

His boisterous laughter was drowned out by an eager knock at the door, quickly followed by said door opening. Hibik bustled in, near vibrating with delight. Tears in his eyes. I quickly adjusted myself to put a little space between us, my blush darkening.

“My King!” He cried, coming over, then bowing repeatedly. “Oh! Blesha’la ontow’a, you are awake!

“Ah, Hibik!” He grinned, reaching out to clasp the smaller goblin’s extended hand. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Likewise, my King.” He bowed repeatedly, shaking Grier’s hand vigorously. “Please, please tell me if I can be of any assistance! I have missed serving you with all my heart.”

“Well, my old friend,” He mused, “It seems I need to get back to full strength.” He brought his now freed hand up to stroke my cheek again, and I felt a fresh flush rising to my face at his touch. “After all, I have a Prince to marry!”

My eyes widened slightly at that. “... A-ah… O-oh…. Ummm…”

Hibik also fell silent, suddenly looking down at his feet and shuffling them. Grier looked back and forth between the two of us. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed.

“... Am I missing something here?”

“Well, my King, the thing… Per your wishes… ah.. The thing... the thing is… ah…” Hibik stammered, then glanced at me desperately.

I cleared my throat, hiding the twitching smile at the corners of my lips. “The thing is…technically…. technically… we’re already married.”

Grier stared at me for a long, long moment.

“... I beg your pardon?”

….

It took three days and many loud arguments to convince the goblin that he could not, in fact, nullify the marriage license just to ‘do it the right way’. And no, it didn’t matter that he was the King. It would in turn put our Treaty at risk, and would cause far too many ramifications, many that were possibly not even conceivable at that moment. It took a week for him to stop grumbling about it at every opportunity.

I stayed with him throughout that time. Making sure he ate. Watching him sleep. The first night I woke him up twice, just to be certain he could be roused. He was not a fan of that, but as I seemed insistent, he would merely blink at me a few times, give an exasperated sigh, then snuggle deeper into my arms. It delighted him endlessly that I had completely given up any semblance of pretending we should sleep separately. So he indulged my anxious checking and fussing to the best of his ability. As long as it meant I was never more than an arms length away.

Now I tried not to stare too much, tried to limit it to the occasional glance over at him. My nerves were shot, but despite the anxiousness swelling around me… Every time our eyes met, he smiled. And I felt my heart skip. 

Morgana bounced eagerly, alternating between walking at our side and darting ahead. She circled around us, as we were moving far too slowly for her liking, checking and assessing each bobble and bit in the hall on the way to the gardens.

Grier stumbled weakly, and I jerked forward to catch him. He looked up at me, flashing his pearly whites. “I’m alright.” He assured me.

“Perhaps we should wait until you are a little stronger-”

He waved his free hand, using my offered arm to carefully straighten himself. “As you refuse to leave my side for more than a minute, and Morgana informed me you haven’t been outside since I fell ill,” he began, his voice breathy, “You leave me no choice but to forcibly escort you to the gardens, my young Prince.”

“I-I think you are… exaggerating a little to say that I r-refuse-” I stammered, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand.

The King chuckled. “Mmm. Alright then, have it your way.” He interrupted, casting me a sidelong glance. “As your proper etiquette and honor will not allow you to leave your King’s side when he is under duress, it is my responsibility to be certain that you see some sunlight now and again.” His smile grew as Morgana darted back over to us. “Besides, I am bored of my rooms. The fresh air will do me some good, I am sure.”

Morgana returned his grin, bouncing in place. “Just wait until you see the surprise we have planned for you!” She told us. “It’ll make you both feel all better.”

I sighed, relenting and pushing her hair back out of her face for perhaps the hundredth time since we had started our trek. “Chickadee, where do you keep all your energy?” She giggled. “I’m tired just watching you.”

She pushed my hand away and started to dart back up the hallway. “Well, maybe if you ever slept anymore, you wouldn’t be so tired, Niko!” She exclaimed.

I cleared my throat and avoided Grier’s scolding eye. I also pretended not to notice he kept his arm wrapped around mine as we continued down the hall. It was better, I told myself. I could offer him more support that way. He still wasn’t back to his full strength yet, and this walk would likely push him to the extremes of what he had. But we were almost there.

Morgana’s head disappeared around the corner, and I felt my brow scrunch slightly as I watched her. The goblin’s fingers squeezed my arm gently, and I glanced down at him.

“Everything alright?” He asked, his voice tender.

I sighed quietly. “... I-I’m not sure she…” I swallowed, looking down at our feet. “M-maybe I didn’t explain King Tibertius’ passing to her as well as I should have…” My brow furrowed a little more. “Perhaps I was… too cold… I don’t think she understands-”

“You were very gentle.” He assured me, giving my arm another gentle squeeze and falling silent for a moment as we rounded the same corner we had seen Morgana disappear past. But when he spotted her further up the hall, dancing from foot to foot until she saw us again then darting off once more, he continued softly. “She’s young. And I don’t think she was very close to your father. She may not have fully processed it yet, being here.”

“How…” I stopped, but he gave me an encouraging nod. “H-how were you told? About your father, I mean?”

Grier thought about that for a moment, and we walked arm in arm quietly down the hall.

“It was… sudden.” He replied after a time. “He was badly injured in a skirmish…. I’m sure future historians will cite that as the instigating incidence of the hostility between our people…” I winced, but he patted my arm reassuringly. “That morning he was fine, and we… I am sure we broke fast together, because we usually did, but I don’t remember that day specifically… Then by that evening, he had passed.”

I winced. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I apologize-”

“It’s ok.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember much at all from then. I don’t think I even knew he had been injured until both him and my mother missed dinner with me that evening. And I wasn’t brought to see him… not until after he had passed and they had… cleaned him up.” He tilted his head to the side, thinking for a long moment. “I remember being… sad, but more confused. I kept… forgetting, I guess. I would expect to see him places, and I think I asked about it once or twice before it really sank in that he was just… gone. And this is despite the fact that I saw his body.”

His steps had slowed, and I matched them carefully. After a moment, we had both come to a full stop, and he turned towards me, sliding his hands down to catch mine. I hesitated, trying to figure out what he needed in that moment. An apology? A story of my own? Perhaps he wanted space, or silence… or did he want some sort of embrace? I faltered, staring down at our hands and carefully running my thumbs over his. And feeling wholly inadequate not knowing how to comfort him. If that was even what he needed…

“... Morgana will be alright,” He told me after a few moments of silence, “She has you. And she is safe here.” Grier gave my hands a gentle squeeze, and I nodded timidly. The goblin shook himself, and I could hear his smile lacing his next words. “But come! Let’s not spoil our first outing in weeks.” I met his eyes, and felt a little more confident at the warmth in them. “We can talk more later, if you want to.”

I followed his lead as he turned to finish the last stretch before the main doors to the gardens. I didn’t even bother with an excuse, keeping his hand locked in my own and tucking it in my elbow. He moved a little closer, hooking his arm in mine until our thighs almost brushed as we walked.

Morgana had managed to push the massive door open on her own, and was waiting excitedly on the stairs before the gardens. She smiled at us as we approached then waved for us to follow her before taking off down the steps and onto the gravel. It crunched delightfully under her little feet, and I took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air as we made our way down the stairs as well, then out onto the path. The sun was bright and warm despite the chill, and I almost sighed as it splashed across my face. A few yards down, we rounded one of the hedges to find a thick blanket spread over the grass. There was a basket set there, and a few books, as well as some flowers tied in bundles that had Morgana’s signature roots and stems still attached. Safa and Seoc waited there, and they bowed to us as we approached. I felt a slight flush rise to my face, but tried not to let my step falter as I guided the King over.

My sister was already digging into the basket, pulling out dishes and bundles of food to pass to the other goblins, who helped her set the blanket. I couldn’t resist watching Safa with a rather critical eye, considering the way she interacted with my sister. I hadn’t had a chance to properly vet her before everything had happened, and found myself a little untrusting of her. After all, what did I know of this goblin? And she had been spending a lot of time with Morgana while I was tending the King. What if she was not the right influence for an impressionable young princess?

“Try not to scare the poor girl.” Came Grier’s quiet voice in my ear as I helped to carefully lower him to sit amid the pillows set on one side of the large blanket.

I looked at him in surprise, and his grin nearly split his face. I carefully fixed my expression, though I couldn’t completely hide the tightness in my voice as I replied. “I do not know what you mean, Your Majesty.”

Grier scoffed, tugging on my vest until I hesitantly settled onto the ground beside him. “Don’t start with that again.” He warned. Then he jerked his chin at the others a few feet away. “Your sister’s new Lady in Waiting. I saw that look.”

“What look?” I grumbled, my voice equally as soft as I watched Safa whisper something to Morgana. My sister laughed, glancing over at us. I felt my cheeks flush slightly.

The King’s chuckle answered me. “I had all of the ladies screened before I let them meet your sister.” He told me, shifting to sit a little closer to me. I stiffened at his proximity, feeling my face flush again. “Safa is from a good family, and she has a kind heart. Give her a chance, yes?”

I resisted the urge to scowl, considering the pair as they whispered and giggled to each other. Though I had to admit, Morgana did seem very pleased with her new Lady. Perhaps Safa felt my gaze on her, because her eyes darted up to me. I saw her shuffle nervously, offering me a slight bow. She glanced over at Morgana, then at Seoc, as if uncertain what to do with herself beneath my scrutiny.

Grier smacked my shoulder lightly. I started, turning my attention to him. “Leave the girl be.” He scolded good-naturedly. Then his smile tweaked at the corners. “Though I have to say, I like seeing this protectiveness of yours. Especially being on this side of it… Perhaps the father bear in you will be a boon to us in the near future.”

I didn’t get a chance to comment on that, as I had to suddenly struggle to keep myself upright as Morgana launched herself into me. My face instantly softened, and she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“This is lovely, Chickadee,” I told her, “Thank you for it.”

“It was Safa’s idea!” She replied, turning to settle properly on my lap and pulling a dish of finger foods over to us. “She said you and Grier deserved some quiet time together now that he was feeling better, and said since you have both been cooped up inside the fresh air would be good for you.”

I pretended not to notice Grier’s smug smirk, taking the offered nibble from her. “W-well… that was very thoughtful of her.”

“I did the flowers though!” She explained through a mouthful of food, sliding the tray over to Grier. “And I helped her cook!”

“Then we owe both of you our gratitude, little bird.” He mused, taking a piece of food and tossing it in the air to catch it in his mouth. She giggled, then promptly tried to do the same with far less success.

She babbled on about this and that for a while as we ate, then bounded out of my lap to sprint across the green. Safa turned from her conversation with Seoc a few yards away, and both beamed at the Princess who tugged lightly on the goblin’s colorful skirts. I watched quietly, taking a slow sip of the hot coffee my sister had sloppily poured us. I heard Grier’s relaxed sigh, turning my attention back to him.

“... How are you feeling?” I asked him nervously.

He groaned lightly, scooching a little closer and leaning his shoulder against my arm. “If one more person asks me that, I’m going to scream.”

I raised one brow, trying to pretend my heart wasn’t racing at his touch. “I suppose that would mean your lungs feel better then, yes?”

He laughed, settling himself somehow even closer to me. I swallowed nervously, glancing at him out the corner of my eye. “I’m tired.” He admitted, sluggishly pulling a tray of sugar powdered pastries closer. “But it’s nice to get out of that bed.”

“Perhaps we should head back.” I fretted, moving as if to call my sister over.

The goblin shook his head, popping one of the pastries in his mouth and resting his head on my shoulder. “Not yet.” He breathed. “I’m enjoying myself.” 

I tried not to shift noticeably, but couldn’t help a tiny shuffle. I even cleared my throat, glancing back at my sister and the other goblins. But they were too far away to be properly bothersome to my discomfort.

“What about you?” I looked over at him at his voice, his scarlet eyes rolling up to meet mine. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not the one who was…” I stopped, dropping off. Feeling my throat close up at the reminder.

I jumped as his hand slid over my thigh, and my heart somehow raced even faster. I wasn’t sure what to do with my eyes. I was pretty sure I had stolen too many peeks at him for me to reasonably be allowed another. So I stared at the ground a few feet away, angled slightly so I could still see him out the corner of one.

“Nikostratus, you need to take care of yourself too.” He told me softly, and his hand ran soothingly back and forth on my leg. “... You can’t just… throw yourself aside for the sake of everyone else…”

I slowly put my cup down in its saucer, and dropping my gaze to stare at my palms. “... I’m fine.”

He gave a soft ‘hmmm’ at that, but didn’t push it further as Morgana darted back over and plopped back into my lap. I stiffened slightly, feeling my face burn hot realizing that Grier was still leaning heavily against my shoulder. But if she noticed, she didn’t seem to mind.

“Niko! Can you do my hair?” She asked. “I want to show Safa what it looks like when you braid it. I brought the oils and comb!”

I hesitated, glancing over at the young noble lady as she sheepishly shifted closer. She stood at the edge of the blanket, her head politely bowed. A few beads of nervous sweat burst out at the collar of my shirt. But… no one seemed to bat an eye at the King currently lazing on my arm. I supposed we were technically married now, after all. That must be why...

I tried to calm my nerves, nodding briskly. “A-alright… but why don’t you read to us while I do?”

Safa brought over a small basket and a book, offering both to me with a shy smile. I considered her for a moment before taking it with a polite thanks. Morgana snatched the book from my hands and flipped to what she described as her ‘favorite goblin story yet’. Seoc and Safa began cleaning up our meal as Morgana started, and I carefully kneaded the oils through her hair. Grier adjusted himself to free my arms, slowly laying down beside me with his head on my bent legs. I looked around nervously… but again, no one seemed to even notice his switch except for me. And I had to admit, having him so close let me relax a little. I didn’t have to check on him as much when I could feel his chest expand with each breath against the crook of my knees.

I forced myself to focus on my sister’s hair, and carefully outlined the tracks with the tip of the comb before I began to form the tight braids along her scalp. I had always loved how fluffy and soft my sister’s hair was; it reminded me of my mother’s. Though hers had been a deep raven black while Morgana’s was more like a dark auburn. It was just as thick, however, and I worked gently to loosen the individual curly strands from each other properly before I smoothed them into shape with the oil. The oil would also help to keep the moisture in the wiry strands, and would help protect her scalp as I tugged the braids firmly into place. I started from the center, working my way to nearly the back of her skull before smoothing out the natural poof at the end of the strands and moving back to her hairline to start again.

I was distinctly aware of Grier’s eyes watching my fingers nimbly braid her hair. Then Safa’s once she had finished clearing the picnic. She kneeled down a few feet away and watched with unconcealed curiosity. I felt a little stiff with the audience. But the King’s eyes drooped lazily as Morgana read on, and Safa proffered a tentative question here and there as I worked, spoken with such reverence I found myself slowly relaxing. I answered her as best I could, my voice low so as to not interrupt my sister’s avid reading. She still scolded us for interrupting, and I hid a smirk in the corners of my mouth. Seoc stood a few feet away, also listening quietly with his head cocked to the side but politely turned.

As the sunlight slowly drifted further away from our cozy little spot, I saw Morgana stifle her third yawn. A glance at Grier told me he was also drifting in and out of the waking world. I finished the last plait along the top of Morgana’s head and brushed the back out into a gentle cloud of natural curls. I worked some of the extra oil in with my palms and watched the curls tighten slightly with the added moisture.

“I believe the end times might be coming,” I mused, as she yawned again, and she and Grier both spun to look up at me, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you so tired. Especially both at once.”

“The Princess was up early with me this morning, My Prince,” Safa offered politely, her voice soft, “She was very eager to help prepare this meal for you and the King.”

“Perhaps then it’s an early night for us all.” I suggested, smoothing back her hair one last time. Grier stretched lightly and yawned, starting to ease himself up.

Morgana ran her own hands over the top of her head, feeling the braids and giving me a sleepy smile. “Thank you, Niko.”

I pinched her cheek. “Thank you, chickadee… And Lady Safa. For setting this up for us.”

“It was my pleasure, My Prince,” Safa bowed her head, then glanced at Morgana, “... Should I bring you back to your rooms Princess? Perhaps we can work on your goblinese for a while before bed.”

“Yeah, I like that idea.” Morgana nodded, turning and wrapping her arms around me. “Goodnight, Niko.” She peeked shyly at Grier from my neck as I returned her hug. “Goodnight, Grier.”

“Goodnight, little bird.” He replied with a smile. “And thank you, again. I look forward to returning the favor someday soon.”

We saw them off as I helped Grier to his feet. Seoc bowed deeply, offering his aid as well, but the King waved him away. Dismissing him for the rest of the evening for a deserved break. We walked with him to the entrance of the castle, then bid him a farewell as he scurried off with the blanket and baskets tucked under his arms.

We walked quietly down the hall, back towards Grier’s rooms. He managed on his own for a while, but by the time we had reached the bottom of the stairs, he started to lean against me heavily again.

“We shouldn’t have stayed out for so long.” I fussed as we rounded the final corner before his hallway. “You can barely stand.”

Grier scoffed away my concern. “It’s good for me. Besides, I enjoyed spending time with you and your sister.” His head cocked sluggishly to the side. “I think she’s a little jealous of me now.” A grin split his thin lips. “I seem to be hogging all your attention.”

I sputtered lightly, a flush coming to my cheeks as I tried unsuccessfully to provide a better conclusion for him. The goblin merely laughed at that, looping his arms around mine and resting his cheek against it. My heart skipped again, and I blinked a few times to try and clear the swirl in my head. I checked about, but we seemed to be alone in the last stretch to his rooms.

His chambers were blessedly dark and still, and I felt heavier as soon as the second door clunked closed behind us. Grier heaved a sigh, plopping down on the bed and kicking off his boots. I moved from where I had removed my vest as he pulled off his top too, going to pick his shoes to place with the rest. His hand caught the edge of my collar as I bent down, giving me a gentle yank.

“Leave them,” He silenced me as I began to protest, hooking his arm about my waist and persuading me over to him, “Your sister isn’t the only one who was working so selflessly all day.” A hot blush rushed my face as he tugged my tunic loose from my trousers and started undoing the ties. “You need to get some rest.”

“That’s my line.” I mumbled dryly, and he chuckled.

“I can’t even fathom the last time you got a good night’s sleep, Nikostratus,” He told me, slowly coming up to his knees, then his feet, standing on the mattress so he could roll my tunic up, “The day outside was a good start, but now we need to get you to bed.”

I nervously finished what he had started, pulling my shirt off. I started to fold it, but the King snatched it from my hands and tossed it to the side. I opened my mouth to stammer a protest again, and found his mouth there to silence it. He wrapped his arms slowly around my shoulders, his bare torso draped against mine. The goblin was taller than me, standing on the mattress as he was, and I had to drop my head back to comfortably return the kiss. I fed him a huffy breath as he coaxed my mouth open with his tongue, slipping past my defenses. Heat was already beginning to build in me at his touch, and I dared snake my own hands over his thighs. Then I hooked them up, catching his weight in my palms to pull his legs around me. I could taste his grin, and slid an arm under him as I carefully climbed onto the bed. Carrying him along with me.

We dropped together to the mattress, and I crouched over him timidly as our kiss broke momentarily. Grier brought his hand around, tracing the back of his knuckles along my jaw. My eyes darted back down to his lips, and before I could meet his gaze again he gently stretched up to sink into my own lips. I kissed him again, pressing his head down into the pillows, slowly lowering my body to be tucked alongside his. Dangling my torso over him with my weight on my elbows. He freed his other hand from around my neck to skim his fingers lightly up my side. I shivered at his touch, and he nipped my bottom lip lightly in response.

I drew back obediently, meeting his eyes shyly. His hand at my jaw turned, bringing his thumb to trace along my lips.

“... Have I mentioned how happy you make me?” He purred softly, a warm smile filling his face.

I blushed again, my eyes darting away. But he held me still with his hand, coming up to kiss me lightly once more. Just a quick peck before he dropped back into the pillows.

“How about how handsome you are?” He continued. “Or how lucky I am that I get to have you as my husband?” A small scowl came to his lips. “Are you certain we cannot simply null the license and do it properly this time?”

I stifled a laugh, my face blazing hot as I shyly rolled away. Dropping to the bed beside him. He quickly shifted and scuttled back into my arms, tucking his body against mine once more and bringing his hands to my face. His scarlet eyes bounced back and forth between mine.

“... You never told me how you feel about everything…”

I swallowed nervously. “E-everything?” I questioned in a soft stutter, timidly running my hand over the edge of his waist and letting my gaze fall to the side.

He nodded. “You’re my husband now…. And I’m yours…” His thumb skimmed along my cheek bone. “... Is that ok?”

I shivered again, then smoothed my hand into the small of his back. Nodding shyly. “Y-yeah. I’m… adjusting. B-but…” My tongue was a little too large for my mouth, and I tried to shift it uncomfortably. “I-I… I’m… I’m happy…” I felt my cheeks burn, and blinked fervently as if to fan them. “... I think…” I finished lamely.

Grier chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead against mine. “You seem… better. About talking,” He rubbed his thumb against my cheek again, “And touching.”

“I’m… I’m trying…” I swallowed again. “B-because… I… I m-missed this… I missed… you… ” I closed my eyes to hide from his. “I was… I was afraid I wouldn’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured me, leaning in until his breath splashed against my face. “Not without you.”

My lips twisted slightly at the corners. “So next time you’ll just be sure to take me with you when you visit death’s doorstep?” I asked dryly.

Another chuckle. “Mmm. No, not quite.” I felt him shift, then felt his lips against my cheek. “Not unless we are both very old and grey. And even then, I would rather not take you with me.”

“I would rather go first.” I mumbled, and felt his fingers tighten. I opened my eyes reflexively to see the worry in his. “... J-just one day… One hour maybe… So… So I don’t ever have to… t-to…” I blushed. “... to live without you.”

He brought our lips together for a feather light kiss, and I pressed my hand into the warm flesh of his lower back. Bringing my other hand up to bury in the wild hair at the base of his skull.

When he leaned back, we lay silently for a bit, staring at each other. Grier was the one to break the silence, a slight furrow forming between the ridges of his pronounced brow.

“Perhaps it was my imagination… But,” He tilted his head to the side, “I swear I… I was dreaming about you. But they felt real. Like memories?”

“I was… talking to you. While you slept…” I glanced away. “I thought maybe… maybe you would hear my voice and want to come back…”

“What did you tell me?” He asked curiously.

I blushed again. “A-ah… I… I told you about Morgana, when she was little…. A-and about Josep… and about my mother…” His hand gently guided me back to him, until I met his eyes once more.

“... Can you tell me again?” A small, sly smirk played across his lips. “I’ll be a better listener this time, I swear.”

I gave another timid nod. “O-ok…”

He smoothed his palm along my face. “But not tonight. You need to sleep.”

I frowned. “I’m fine-”

“You’re not fine.” He cut me off. “You spent the last two weeks watching me teeter on the edge of death. All the while ruling the Kingdom, and caring for Morgana, and anything else you could shoulder.” He ran his hand to the back of my head, gently squeezing my skull in his palm. “You married a dying man, your old guard tried to kill you, your father died... And those are just the things I know about...” I winced, and he brought his forehead back to mine. “Now it’s time to relax. Let someone else take the burden for a time while you rest.”

I started to shake my head. “Y-you’re still healing-”

“So are you.” He argued, squeezing me again as I winced once more. His fingers slowly loosened, then he traced them back and forth along the back of my head. “... Let me take care of you now, hm? I’m strong enough for that.”

I didn’t say anything, but met his eyes bashfully again. A sound warmth reached those dazzling scarlet reds of his. I sighed deeply, and he smirked with an almost irritating smugness in recognition of my defeat. Shifting to roll closer to me and wrap his arms about my shoulders. Tucking my head against his neck and resting his chin on the top of my head. One hand began to draw slow lines up and down between my shoulder blades, the other cupping the back of my head. I drew in a slow, deep breath, pulling the scent of him into my lungs. Feeling myself slowly relax as I lay there with him, my eyes getting heavier by the minute. I wove my own arms around him, encompassing him with my own body even as he buried my head in his. 

It didn’t take much longer for me to fall into a deep, deep sleep. Securely and safely wrapped up in Grier’s arms...

....

“What could possibly have been going through his mind?” I scowled slightly, resisting the urge to let my nose scrunch up as well. “What possible thought could he have had to think that was even remotely acceptable to say?”

Grier smirked. “Well, I’m certain he had his reasons dear.”

“Impossible! It’s absolutely illogical, and hare brained at best.” I argued, then glanced at him sidelong. “... Don’t call me ‘dear’.”

The goblin grinned up at me. “How about ‘sweetheart’?” My small scowl twitched at the corners and he laughed. The sound echoed around us, bouncing off the stone walls. “I am just attempting to find the perfect pet name for you, love.”

I shook my head. “You’re ‘just attempting’ to change the subject. Are you afraid I’ll have that nobleman hoisted by the ankles for his blasphemy?” I returned. “.... D-don’t call me ‘love’.”

He drew in an excited breath. “Ah, excellent. You’re starting to get flustered.” He bared his pointy teeth at me. “That’s a good sign.”

I scoffed at him, feeling a slight flush pinch at the balls of my cheeks. “I-I am not!”

The King sidled up to me, snaking his arms around mine to match my long stride with a skipping step. “Everything is going perfectly to plan then.”

I chanced a quick peek around to be sure that we were alone in the halls. It had been nearly a month since the goblin King had first woken from his fever induced slumber, and every day a little more of his strength found its way back to him. And every day, he grew a little more bold. A little more affectionate.

I still didn’t care for over the top displays around others, even the attendants and guards posted strategically through the castles. Most especially around my sister. But found I didn’t mind so much the little ones… a pinky finger hooked around mine. A gentle hand on my shoulder in passing. A thigh tucked against my own when we were sitting. Not that anyone else seemed to mind. I just couldn’t seem to completely shake the uneasiness I felt at the idea of other eyes seeing his affections for me.

But Grier was nothing if not adaptable. He relished tugging me into a dark corner to steal a kiss when no one was around. Or palming my ass when we left a room. Once or twice he had even gotten a few buttons on my shirt undone in a stairwell before my shyness and good sense had gotten the better of me. He seemed to enjoy my flushed face, and I couldn’t help the way my heart skipped at his little smug smiles of accomplishment after each daring theft. And when we were alone? … Suffice it to say I was pretty sure I had taken more cold baths in the last month than the rest of my life combined. I also was pretty well versed in the goblinese alphabet in any order I may wish to recite it. Grier relished hearing me attempt to distract myself from his attentions; I was pretty sure he considered it a personal challenge to get me hot and bothered when I was trying very hard not to. And as his strength returned, it was getting harder and harder to remind him he was still healing and to take it slow.

This evening though, as we walked arm in arm, I felt a frown settle on my lips as I checked to be certain we were alone. I glanced around, a furrow digging into my brow.

“... W-where are we going?” I checked over my shoulder, my frown deepening. “I-I don’t… I don’t think this is the way to your rooms…”

The goblin chuckled, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. “You’re really quite hopeless aren’t you, my young Prince?” He mused. “We haven’t even been in the right wing for some time now. Didn’t you notice we went up a flight of stairs??”

I glanced around again, but despite the slight air of unfamiliarity, the hallway looked just like any other. I swallowed a sigh. I had gotten lost a fair few times in the last month. It was an informal royal decree from both Morgana and Grier that I was not allowed to wander the halls unaccompanied anymore. It seemed I had a knack for ending up in quite the opposite place of my intended destination.

“I-it did seem… a little longer of a walk than normal.” I mumbled sheepishly. I was lying, of course, as it hadn’t really. Then shot him a sidelong look. “... Ah… where are we going then?”

Grier’s grin turned sly, and he glanced at me out the corner of his eye. “It’s a surprise.”

“But… but i-it’s late. Y-you shouldn’t be-”

The King scoffed, waving one hand errantly. “I have been given a clean bill of health now, pet. I am free to surprise my husband to my heart’s content.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to sort out what he meant by that. “... D-don’t call me ‘pet’.” I hesitated, looking around again. “So w-where-”

“Still a surprise.” He interrupted me, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “But I promise we are almost there.”

I relented with a stifled huff, letting him lead me as he would. I couldn’t help looking around curiously, but simply had no head for the layout of the castle. It was far more complex than the one I had grown up in, and even there I had some trouble from time to time. It had taken me nearly my full 25 years to grow comfortable with it; I imagined it would take much longer than that for me to settle into familiar paths in this castle.

“Are you looking forward to your brother’s coronation?” Grier asked by way of distraction for my nerves.

I peeked at him, my frown returning slightly to the corners of my mouth. “... No.”

The goblin chuckled. “I would have thought you would be happy to have him on the throne. A much more level and reasonable head than your father, I am certain.”

I nodded my agreement, checking down one dark hallway we passed instinctively. “Of course. Crown Prince Valerianus will be an excellent ruler, a boon to his people.” My voice strayed into the old formal flatness from my youth. But then I stopped, staring down at our feet as we walked. “... I-I am not looking forward to the coronation itself.” I dropped off momentarily. “... Least of all because Morgana will be staying with m-my… my brother upon our return.” The word still tasted strange to me.

“Just for a few months.” He reminded me soothingly. “A season at each castle. I believe it is quite the fair arrangement.” He gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “It’ll go by faster than you think… What else worries you about the coronation?”

“... I don’t like parties.” I sighed. “I don’t like crowds of people… I-I prefer to be alone.”

“Except for me?” He offered.

I blushed, stammering for a moment. “Except f-for you...” I amended quietly.

His grin returned, and he tugged me to a halt. “Excellent. Because we are here.”

We stood beside a massive set of pine doors, inlaid with dark carved oak. A delicate but intricate pattern wove beautifully across each, and I considered that for a long moment. I looked around, then back at the doors, my head naturally tilting to the side as I tried to figure exactly where “here” was. Higher up, of course. Now that I was aware of it, we had climbed at least two sets of stairs to get here. But aside from the beautiful carved doors (which I was fairly certain I had never seen before) there was nothing overly distinct about our location, and nothing was familiar.

“Ah… sh-should I know where we are?” I asked timidly. Afraid he would be insulted that I did not, or disappointed his surprise was not completely evident to me.

The goblin was nearly dancing from foot to foot in his excitement. “Why don’t you open the doors and see?”

I hesitated, cocking one eyebrow at him. Then released his hand to push the left side door open. Grier pushed open the other, then stood with his hands behind his back while I assessed the room beyond.

It was a foyer. I knew that much. A grand fireplace to one side, a plush couch flanked by a pair of armchairs (matching, I was surprised to find) and a white marble table. To the other side, another pair of armchairs set on either side of a circular table set with a decadent chess set (those pieces didn’t quite seem to belong to each other though). I glanced over at Grier, and he nodded, encouraging me to go deeper with a large grin on his face. He jerked his head to the right, and I obediently went through the door there. A large reading room, with a tall window set into the length of one wall, a soft looking bench beside it. We were in the tower then, I surmised, craning my neck back to follow the floor to ceiling shelves with a thin ladder and narrow ledge at the middle to reach the second level of books. I could smell the old pages, and lingered for a moment. More plush furniture, cozy and soft looking. A few over the top decadent pillows, and a fair few knick-knacks, though they were neatly set about the room.

I turned back to Grier in the doorway, opening my mouth to speak. But he merely gestured for me to follow him back into the foyer, then across to the opposite door. This one was a closet, long and narrow, with a few cloth mannequins in between the shallow alcoves stuffed with vibrant colored clothes. At least on one side. On the other, my eyes widened slightly upon seeing dark, solid colors. Coats. Vests. White or cream shirts. Greys and blues mostly, with a few other colors smattered in between. Not stuffed, as the opposite side was, but neatly arranged and ordered by item types. Vests in one place. Coats in another. Tunics and shirts in the last. Boots and belts on hooks and shelves between. There were mirrors in the corner, each more decadent than the last and making the space seem even more full than it was.

Again I opened my mouth, the realization coming to me, but the goblin put his hands on my hips and started to push me towards the door in the back. I stammered a few useless sounds, but he persisted. Steering me through to the next room.

A bath. Large, with pearl and opal encrusted pools and delicate marble steps. I craned my neck back, finding a beautiful mosaic of colorful and sparkling tile in the ceiling. I marveled at it for a moment, breathing in the warm, steam filled air. Listening to the soothing sound of trickling water. A few raised basins lined the walls, with intricate stone carvings set into their backboards where water trickled into them before dripping off the sides and down to some unseen place in the ground beneath.

“There’s more.” He told me before I could speak. Catching my hand and tugging me through the door on the opposite side from where we had entered.

I followed behind, feeling in a daze. A bedroom this time, as evident by the bed large enough that I was certain a giant could comfortably lay sideways in it. It had tall, dark oak beams, and was filled with plush pillows along the headboard. Heavy curtains were neatly tied to the posters with golden rope, and there was another large fireplace off to one side. I recognized some of the bobbles and odds and ends from my time spent clearing his chambers. I dug my heels in, yanking Grier to a stop as I marveled at the room.

“A bed so big you could lose me in it.” He reminded me, his grin still ear to ear. “I hope this one with suffice. It was quite the commission.”

“... Th-this is… for us?” I mumbled timidly, and felt my face suddenly flush dark. 

He laughed. “Well, as long as it matches what you wanted.” He tugged my hand a final time. “But there’s one last surprise here for you.”

I obediently followed after him, letting him lead the way to the back corner. There was an archway, with a small little room to one side and a spiral stairwell to the other. The room was rounded on one side, with beautiful colored glass windows. The walls were a soft yellow, and the furniture was decidedly small. A small bed, a soft looking armchair with a sheepskin draped over it. And a cradle, alongside the window. My blush went even darker.

“Is it how you imagined?” He asked, stepping to the side to give me a better view. “I’m not sure what human nurseries look like, so I am afraid it might lean a little more to the goblin side of things.” His own scarlet eyes appraised the room. “We can of course change anything you’d like.”

“It… i-it looks…” I stepped shyly into the center, slowly pivoting on one foot. The setting sun broke through the glass, bathing the room into an almost magical glow. “... It looks… perfect…”

I jumped as his hands slowly came around my middle, and I felt him bury his face in the slope of my back. My breath fluttered from my chest, and I hesitantly rested my hands on his arms at my waist. A thousand thoughts rushed through my head at that moment, so quickly it was soon throbbing. Especially as his hands began to slowly rub against my abdomen.

I glanced at the doorway, then blinked a few times. “Wh-where do the stairs go?” I asked tentatively. Eager to distract myself from the heat of him at my back.

He gave me a gentle squeeze, then slid around to stand in front of me once more. “I thought you’d never ask.” The goblin took up my hands again. “Come.”

The spiral stairs were narrow, but not uncomfortably so, and I had no trouble following behind him. Our boots clicked on the stone, and I could barely keep up with his eager pace. The stairs let up to a large circular room at the top, devoid of furniture. The walls were mostly all glass, save for the stone archways supporting it, with thick curtains bunched along their length ready to be drawn. A door opened opposite us, leading to a balcony around the outside edge. But it was the center of the room that drew my attention.

It was filled with blankets, rugs, and large pillows of varying colors and patterns. Creating a soft nest of sorts, and encircled with white candles that were somehow already lit. Their flames flickered on the surface of the polished glass, making it look like we were surrounded by soft faerie fire. The ceiling was domed, and also completely glass, and as I stepped closer, I dropped my head back to look up at the swirl of pastels dancing across the sky as the sun began to set. The room was filled with the soft smell of flowers, and I saw them hanging from planters along the top edge of the stone pillars, draping down delicately. There was also a strategically placed set of stout, square glasses, and a tray of amber filled decanters. I could see the mountains for miles in almost every direction, and again slowly turned in place as I took it all in.

I felt eyes on me, and dropped my own from the heavens to find Grier’s waiting. He smiled at me, a little shyly. Obviously waiting for my final reaction. I looked around again, feeling as if my breath had been stolen from my lungs. I realized my mouth had dropped open a little, and quickly deigned to close it.

“Perhaps not what you had in mind when you said ‘a balcony’.” He mused. “But I thought it might still impress...” He gestured to the blankets and pillows at the center. “Fancy a drink to top off the evening? Perhaps to celebrate our new abode?”

“Th-that…” I fumbled for the right words, still a little dumbstruck. I swallowed hard. “That sounds… It would be.. a-ah... P-perfect.”

He motioned for me to sit, then walked around and carefully closed the curtains of the windows, leaving just the domed ceiling overhead. I stopped at the edge of the nest, hesitating for a moment before removing my boots. It didn’t seem appropriate to tread over the fabrics with them. I noticed a few petals flittered among the pillows, and pondered at exactly how they had managed to get so far from their source. The sun had all but completely sunk below the horizon now, and the inky night sky was beginning to seep into the pastels left in its wake. Slowly, I sat amid the pillows, craning my neck back to watch the darkness’ progression.

I heard him come up behind me, as well as the shuffle of him removing his own boots. The hairs on the base of my neck rose as he sank down to his knees at my back, then I felt the heat of his body once again as he slowly wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I shivered as his hot lips suddenly pressed to the side of my neck.

“What do you think?” He asked me softly. His breath warm against my skin.

I felt my face flush, and looked down at my hands in my lap. “O-of the rooms? Or… Or of all this?”

He gave a soft ‘hmm’ at that, then kissed my neck again. “Both.”

I peeked over at the stairs, trying to ignore the way he moved his hands back and forth over my shoulders. “... I-I like them… You ah… Y-you definitely were listening…”

He chuckled, and my eyes drooped as he pressed his lips against my skin once more. “My sweet Prince, I’m always listening to you.” One of his hands rolled to trace slowly down my front. “... And this?”

I swallowed nervously, then pretended to be too preoccupied with considering the room to notice his nimble fingers undoing the buttons on my vest. “I-it reminds me of… o-of that… umm…” I flushed a little darker, distracted. “... That first dinner…”

He nodded, slipping in a little closer. “Our first ‘date’, so to speak.” I could hear his smile in his next words. “You remember.”

I nodded. “O-of course I do… it was…i-it was...“ I dropped off, struggling to find the right word.

“Special?” He offered, and goosebumps shot across my skin at the word. I nodded again, resisting another shiver. He hummed his approval softly. “That was the intent… though I have an entirely different goal for how I’d like this night to end… But I want to ask you something first.”

My breath caught in my throat at that, and I turned slightly to look at him out the corner of my eye. His fingers had halted, and I found an unfamiliar seriousness waiting for me when I met his gaze. It made my mouth twitch down, and I turned to face him a little more. Curious what he could possibly want to ask that had him so uncharacteristically somber. The goblin took a steadying breath, easing his hands slowly back to cup on his lap.

“Nikostratus…” He paused, drawing in a breath, “... Will you marry me?”

I blinked at him. “... We’re already married.”

Grier scoffed angrily, brushing his hand through the air. “Yes yes, technicalities and legalities and all that. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“But that’s… that’s what you just asked-”

“No! I mean, yes, that is, but that’s not what I meant.” He gave an exasperated sigh. I felt my mouth twitch at the corners as his tentative expression turned to a scowl. The goblin shook his head, then took up both of my hands in his. “What I meant was… will you, Prince Nikostratus… will you be mine? And will you take me as yours?” I started to open my mouth, but he squeezed my hands. “Not because of a treaty, or in case I die without an heir. Not because I’m a King, and you’re a Prince. Or for our people, or even for the sake of peace. Not to make anyone else happy… but because I asked you… because I love you…” His scarlet eyes dropped down to our hands. “... And because you want to-”

“Yes.”

He jerked sharply. “... What?”

I nodded. “Yes. I will. Because you asked. Because I want to.”

“... Just like that?”

I smiled shyly at him, and I saw his eyes sparkle at the sight. “Just like that.”

He released one of my hands from his and brought it up, turning my face towards him properly. I met his eager lips with mine, shifting to twist at my waist. Bringing my own hand up to tentatively trace along the edge of his sharp jaw. We held that kiss for a long breath, relishing in it together. 

Then he moved, stretching and rolling himself around to come to my side. Easing my now unbuttoned vest off my shoulders and teasing his tongue between my lips. I shrugged the vest off, letting him toss it to the side without breaking our kiss. Feeling his hands return to begin untucking my tunic and undoing the strings to my trousers. My own hands reached for him, finding first his waist, then the hem of his pants. Gently tugging his own shirt loose, slipping my palms underneath to press against his warm, bare skin beneath. My heart leapt and thudded in my chest, and forgot how to breathe for a moment as he broke our kiss to roll my tunic up and over my head.

His hands came to my shoulders, pushing me firmly, until I fell onto my back amid the pillows. And he climbed on top, straddling me and planting his firm buttocks quite soundly on top of the swiftly growing bulge at my pelvis. I nearly groaned, and saw the same intense heat in his own eyes as I felt rippling through my body. I watched as he pulled off his own top, revealing his muscular torso and taut green skin to my hungry gaze. He tossed his shirt to the side as well and came back down, kissing first my mouth, then pushing my head to the side with his nose to begin slowly licking and sucking at the curve of my neck. My eyes rolled back and a shiver of delight rippled through me at the sensation.

“... A-are… Are you sure you’re… Y-you’re…” I stammered, unable to manage a complete sentence with his lips trailing across my skin.

I felt his hum against my throat, and gasped as he gently nipped at me. “Absolutely.”

Grier came back up to lean over me, his hair falling wildly about his shoulders as he bent down. Pressing our lips together again to reassure me of his words. His hands came to rest on either side of my head, and I let my own trace hesitantly up his bare arms. First to his shoulders, then slowly down his muscular back. I marveled again at the warmth and texture of his skin, and shivered as it seemed to remind me of my own exposed flesh. I heard his jaw click slightly as he opened it wide, sneaking his tongue back into my mouth. Winding it around mine. Another shiver passed through me, and I felt him shift. Rubbing against my cock through our pants and leaving my head spinning again. I fed him a shuddering breath as he ground his own member against me, sending a prickling heat racing through my body.

He unlocked our mouths, bringing one hand up to turn my face to the side before burying himself against the tender flesh beneath my ear. The sound of his tongue working against my skin coupled with his hot breath in my ear had my hands on his back looking for purchase to pull him closer. He trailed his sharp teeth across my skin, and I caught my hand in his hair as he worked his mouth slowly down my body. My fingers curled into those messy locks, and I started to prop myself up on one elbow as he moved lower and lower. Wondering where exactly he was going.

Scarlet eyes flicked up to me, and the heat there made my heart skip and sputter dangerously. “Lay back.” He breathed against my skin, his voice several octaves deeper with the husk of his arousal. 

I did as I was told, settling into the pillows once more with my heart in my throat. Trusting him as the more seasoned player for exploiting our arousals. He had certainly proved himself quite skilled in such carnal desires over the past month. I felt his mouth trail kisses down my abdomen, felt his hands massage at my sides. My own hand was still buried in his hair, and it twitched as his fingers curled around the hem of my pants. Pulling them down and freeing my cock from their quickly shrinking confines. I tried to not think too much about how I was now laid  bare before him, even as my heart thrummed. Luckily the blood was rushing through a fairly different head of mine at that moment, and my thoughts were congealed and fleeting at best. And as his hands slid up the back of my thighs to cup my buttocks, I lost even that.

I jerked as something firm and wet flicked at the head of my cock. Then gasped as the sensation returned. The pant of his hot breath against my pelvis brought the shocking clarity to my swirling brain that it was his tongue currently rolling over and licking at me with abandon. At first, I was so surprised my mouth dropped open. But as his long tongue wrapped and lapped at all my most sensitive parts, I decided I really didn’t care. More heat poured through my body, until I felt the tips of my fingers and toes go numb. I tightened my hand in his hair, and groaned loudly as his lips suddenly closed around my erection. Enveloping it in that hot, wet mouth of his. I thought I could feel the tantalizing brush of his sharp teeth along its length, and he began to rhythmically work his way up and down my shaft. I groaned again, trying not to writhe too much beneath his hot breath and lapping tongue. His hands massaged at my cheeks, slowly pushing them tightly together then spreading them apart.

I was glad for the soft pillows beneath me as I smashed my head back recklessly at the wave of pleasure that washed through me. My hand bobbed with his head, riding up and down the full length of me. I could feel his lips scrape the hair at my pelvis, and each deep thrust left me twitching more than the last. I curled one of my legs half around him, needing to touch him. To feel the heat of the rest of his body. His hands worked between my butt cheeks, and I felt the tip of one beginning to massage my hole.

Damnit. I thought to myself as a pulsing flash of light filled my vision. I started to try to pull away from him, feeling myself cresting on the edge of pleasure. But he stubbornly latched on, somehow managing to bury my cock deeper into his throat. I gasped, then moaned, my fingers in his hair spasming. I would have felt embarrassed by my sounds, had I the capacity for any thought other than that of the sensations of his mouth wrapped around me. His finger flicked inside me, and I smashed my head back again with that final straw.

I shuddered, crescendoing over the top and crashing back down on the other side in a hot, rippling mess. I felt my cock throb, pulsing my cum straight into Grier’s waiting mouth. I would have flushed in embarrassment, had my entire blood supply not been otherwise preoccupied at the moment. My body became in as much mush, my bones forgetting their solidity, my legs feeling numb. I blinked rapidly, trying to sort out exactly what had just happened, but my thoughts remained a hopeless swirling mess.

Before I could fully return to myself, Grier’s mouth found mine. My hand at the back of his head slipped to cup his neck, and with a weak grip I pulled him closer instinctively. He tasted salty, but not at all bad, and I welcomed his long tongue back into my mouth. Breathy with the lingering memory of its previous exploits. I felt myself slowly returning, and found his hands still massaging and playing with my ass. And was quite aware of his own cock rubbing against my pelvis eagerly.

I didn’t let myself pause to think, reaching down. Wrapping my hand around him. He fed me an equally breathy pant as I firmly gripped his manhood. I started to sit up, half on my side, adjusting to allow myself better purchase while his hands still worked at my backside. I used the moment to explore his cock in my palm, sliding up and down its length, with the pale tuft of wiry hair at its base and running partially up his abdomen. He hardened more at my touch, and I couldn’t help the little giddy glee in my stomach at the feeling.

I wasn’t sure if I was expecting it to be different from a human cock. A quick glance confirmed it was as green as the rest of him, though the head was darker. I thumbed the veins and ridges, running my palm appraisingly over it. Grier seemed eager to indulge my whims, and his pelvis jerked at my movement. I was surprised to find it was not smaller, as I would have expected it to be considering his proportions. Despite the goblin’s stature, I was pretty certain his appendage was very nearly the same size as mine. It certainly fit my palm similarly, and I enjoyed the familiarity of its shape. Feeling more and more confident as I rubbed at it firmly, confirming to myself this fact. Grier broke back from my mouth to lightly nip at my lip with his sharp teeth, seeming unable to fully handle the pleasure and desperate for an outlet.

He quivered as I continued to pump my palm up and down his shaft. I moved my other hand from the base of his skull to massage at his shoulders. He tucked his face against my neck, panting against me. Palming my ass and drifting his fingers ever closer to my anus. I encouraged him by picking up my pace, and felt him bite at my throat with a soft groan. He murmured something I didn’t understand, and suddenly his fingertips felt moist and tingly as he slid them in and around my hole.

“I want to know what it feels like to be inside you, Nikostratus.” He purred against my skin, and I quivered with anticipation. Gasping softly as he worked his fingers deeper. Carefully massaging and stretching me out.

I gripped him even more firmly now, rolling my hand down the length of his shaft, slowly pushing back his skin to fully expose his sensitive head to the night air. He groaned again, and I delighted in the feeling of the vibration of it at my throat. Whatever magic he had placed on his fingers was soothing and cool, and I felt myself relax at his touch.

His hands came around, pushing me down with his palms at my shoulders. I didn’t object, falling back willingly. Feeling my legs shaking with my growing anticipation. He coaxed me onto my stomach, and rolled his hands back and forth over my cheeks a few times. I felt his cock slide between them, and heard his breath hitch as he rubbed it there for a moment. Then aligned himself properly. I didn’t dare try to look over my shoulder at him, my face hot, my breath catching. I tried not to flinch as I felt his head graze the ring between my cheeks, but couldn’t help the shiver of excitement. His preparations allowed him to push easily inside me, though he did so slowly. Relishing each tantalizing inch. I curled my fingers into the blankets, my mouth dropping open as his head ground slowly against a particularly sensitive spot. He moved until he had buried himself to his pelvis, and bent slowly over me. His breath splashed against my spine, and I felt him carefully roll his hips.

I closed my eyes, letting loose something halfway between a moan and a gasp. It felt strange, but not unpleasant. He rolled again experimentally, then I felt him shudder against me. He bent further, curling over my ass and resting himself on his elbows. Until he could lap at the sweat now slowly dripping down my spine. I quivered at that, lost in a fresh wave of pleasure as he ground and rocked into me again. And again. His mouth came to my skin as he moved, and I could feel his breath panting against my sweat slicked shoulders. He alternated between kissing and licking, but as his pace picked up, I felt his teeth prick my skin in between groans pressed into my flesh.

I relished the sound of his hips smacking against my fleshy bottom. I enjoyed the feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside me. He moved gently at first, but gradually picked up speed and force as his excitement grew and my sounds spurred him on. Before long, he released a string of goblinese. I didn’t have to understand it at all to know it was probably not in any way ‘proper’ or ‘polished’ speech. It made my heartbeat even more erratic, and his thrusts seemed to match it. I felt him shudder again, and stifled a moan with my face buried in the blankets.

Suddenly, he jerked and spasmed, and a small part of me imagined I could feel him pulsing inside me as he reached his own climax. Logically I knew whatever magic he had used to relax my ring would likely prevent that, but I preferred to still imagine I could.

The goblin dropped onto my back with a hefty gasp, his smaller body quivering. My own body alternated between melting into a semi-solid state and tensing into a shiver. Each panting breath I drew, I could feel his weight rise and fall along with it. Our heat melded together, until I wasn’t entirely sure where his body ended and mine began... Eventually, he planted a final kiss between my shoulder blades, and slid off my back with a soft thump.

I found a bit of solidity to roll onto my side a few breaths later, and jumped slightly as Grier practically launched himself into my chest. I would have laughed at that, had I any semblance of where my lungs were at that moment. Instead, I sluggishly draped my arms around him, feeling his pleased sigh against my sternum as I did.

When several long minutes had passed without sound, I started to crane my neck down to check if the King was even still awake. I was certain he must be unconscious; he would never have been this quiet otherwise. Though over the last few weeks I had found there were nights when he talked even in his sleep! A pair of languid, hooded red eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I raised an eyebrow. I had fully expected when we got to this… ‘moment’, he would be full of teasing, boisterous words. Perhaps some musing on our varying physicality, or a comment on some quality of my body. Leaving me flustered, stammering, and proficiently bothered. His mouth twitched at the corners, but I was surprised to find him continuing his uncharacteristic silent streak.

As the heat and rush of excitement started to fade from my body, I found my anxiety waiting. Perhaps he had been disappointed? Or found my performance lacking in comparison to his other partners? Had he overexerted himself? A pang of guilt hit me hard in the chest. I shouldn’t have let it go so far. I had been too caught up in the desire, and turned selfish. He was still recovering; it had only been a month after all. I fretted over this, feeling my body stiffen around him.

Suddenly, Grier chuckled, and his lips pressed lightly to the hollow of my neck. “Over thinking things, are you?” He mumbled, as if his lips weren’t able to move properly to form the words.

I shifted nervously. “I-is it that obvious?”

Another soft laugh, and he snuggled deeper into me. But he didn’t answer right away, breathing another sigh into me. My heart skipped about in my chest, bouncing around the walls of my ribcage. His hand came up, sluggishly smoothing against my skin, rubbing the side of my neck and down my shoulder. I tried to take comfort in that, adjusting my suddenly oversized tongue in my mouth. Still, I lay stiff as a board beside him, and after a little while he brought his lips back to the same spot at the base of my neck.

“I’m not much of a talker.” He fumbled by way of explanation, his words slurred and slow.

That did make me laugh out loud. “Since when??”

He hummed a soft, amused note, and I felt his eyelashes brush against my skin as they fluttered. “After sex, I mean.”

Instantly my face flushed at the word. “A-ah,” I stammered, then shifted a little. “I-I… I didn’t know th-that.”

I could almost sense his languid grin, and he pressed his lips to my hot skin again. Then once more, though softer. His body relaxed, and he buried his face against me. His warm breath spinning down my sternum to be trapped between our entwined bodies. I swallowed once more, but adjusted, curling more completely around him. Cocooning him.

I rested my chin on the top of his head, and let a soft sigh escape as I forced my own body to relax. We lay quietly for a while. I knew he wasn’t asleep, as I felt his lashes run along my skin each time he blinked. I borrowed reassurance from the sensation, and my muscles loosened more. My eyes found the stars over our heads, and I watched them amid the reflection of the candlelight.

“I used to spend a lot of time staring up at the sky,” I breathed, “Wh-when I was younger… I found I could hide better in the dark, a-and no one ever thought to look for me outside for some reason…” I ran my hand along his spine, letting the words simply flow from me. Not really speaking to him, specifically. Just speaking... As I had when he was sick, and I had attempted to keep the habit up since. “I liked the night… Things were… quieter then… P-people didn’t bother me as much…” I considered the stars I could see from my position tucked against him. “We had a small collection of books on the constellations… I think I memorized most of them, I read them so much… I-I liked to… to read. Whenever I could manage to, I would go to the castle library…” My hand skimmed up to play with the long strands of his hair spilling over his back. “There was this… one spot… It was, ah… it was where the walkway of the second level stopped short… But there was just a little gap before the top of the next pillar and… a-and I found that I could s-step from the walkway to the pillar, then around to the next… then in the corner, one of the bookshelves was shorter to let in the light from the window…” I turned my head, burying my nose in his silky soft hair. Breathing in his spicy sweet scent. I knew now he liked to burn sage and myrrh in his rooms. He found the scents calming... “I would sit on top of that shelf for hours… No one could ever find me… I had a pillow set up there, and I would leave my favorite books…”

His soft chuckle vibrated against my chest. “I see Morgana wasn’t the only adventurous royal.” He murmured into my skin.

My lips twitched at the corners. “... I-I’m mostly of the literary sort… I would go there when I’d had enough of socializing and crowds. After all the galas, and balls and… ” I hesitated, my hand pausing with the long strands of his hair twirled around my fingers. Suddenly reminded of another such impending event. “I-I… I don’t want a big wedding…” I confessed suddenly, wincing.

Grier shifted, seeming to come to life at my words. I stiffened, worrying he would deign to leave my side if he was upset enough. I wasn’t sure what I would do if he did, and felt my heart ache with the fear. I felt his hand, previously forgotten in the knoll of my neck, slide over my muscles. Down my pectorals, then back up. His kiss was soft against me, and I shivered at it.

“Alright.” He agreed readily.

I blinked in surprise. “... Y-you… you don’t mind?” I felt him shake his head against me, and my fingers in his hair tightened. “I-I thought you wanted… I thought you would want a big… a-a very big ceremony, especially now that-”

“I’ve told you this before.” He interrupted me. His hand lingered at my throat, his thumb following the lump as I swallowed. “I don’t know why you never seem to believe me. I want you to be happy. That’s all I want.”

“... Even if it wasn’t with you?”

The goblin leaned in to nip at my soft flesh with his teeth at my tempered teasing. “Alright.” He amended. “I want you to be happy with me. But... if you couldn’t be-”

I shook my head, wrapping him up in my arms and pulling him close. “I-it doesn’t matter.” I told him in denial of that possibility as he slowly wound his hand to my back. Entangling himself around me. “I don’t… I-I don’t think I could… I don’t think I could be...h-happy… without you.” He nuzzled into the side of my neck, until I could feel his breath in my ear, and I took courage from that. “I-I don’t think I’ve… I’ve ever been…” I dropped off, then shook my head again. “N-not like this…”

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that…” He breathed, a happy relief in his voice. Then he paused, drawing small circles with his fingertips on my back. “I’ve been... obsessed with you… Ever since I first learned of you three years ago.” He confessed quietly, and I tried not to stiffen with his words. “I thought it was just some… strange fancy. One that would go away with time.” He smoothed his palm over my shoulders. “After I saw you… I just… always felt like something was missing. Though I couldn’t tell what it was… I certainly never put it together with you specifically.” He sighed. “Yet it was constantly driving me. Though I didn’t know it. It drove me to halt hostilities. Then to seek out the peace… and then… that drove you to me… and…”

He leaned back, pulling himself free from my embrace. I turned, looking down at him as his hands came about to cup my face. His long thumbs ran along my cheeks under my eyes, as his own seemed to study every pore. Our breath intermingled in what was left of the air between us, and electricity snapped in its wake. Slowly he stretched up, kissing me softly, gently. As if he were in a pleasant dream, and longed to do everything in his power to linger in it.

“And then I saw you again…” He murmured once he had finally leaned back. “I saw you in my castle, standing before me. Close enough to touch… and everything just… clicked. Everything became so obvious.”

“W-was it really so easy for you?”

“No.” He admitted. “I wasn’t lying back then, when I said you surprised me. I really never thought I would like you. I had never met a human before that I had found I could do much more than tolerate.” His head cocked to the side. “But I thought it would be... interesting, at least. And…” He grinned. “You are very handsome.”

My cheeks grew hot and I tried to flick my gaze to the side. He tightened his grip, tricking me into looking back at him in surprise. Just in time for him to kiss me again. I hummed a sigh against his mouth, my eyes fluttering.

“You are very handsome,” He declared, his voice soft, “And charming, and selfless, and sweet.” He kissed me again. “And I will keep telling you this until you believe me.” A final kiss, soft and tender upon my lips. “Now… how about that drink, hmm?”

The corners of my mouth twitched again as he untucked himself from against me and sat up. The goblin reached over, pulling the tray closer. There was a covered plate beside it I hadn’t noticed before, and felt a slight frown slip across my features as I considered it. Grier poured out a small dollop of brandy into each glass as I slowly sat up too. Pulling the loose end of a blanket modestly across my lap.

“What’s under there?” I asked, curious despite myself.

His grin grew, and he passed me a glass before using his now free hand to toss the silver cover off to the side with an unceremonious clatter. I jumped slightly at the sound, but didn’t have time to linger on it as the King proffered the now revealed plate of small misshapen yellow squares practically right under my nose. I raised an eyebrow at him, but carefully plucked one, hesitantly bringing it up for a precursory sniff. My eyes widened with delight as I recognized it, and I snapped up the entire treat in one quick bite. Letting the sweet but tart flavor roll over my tongue with a soft sigh.

Grier laughed, equally delighted, and picked up another after returning the plate to the tray. I met his eyes, suddenly a little embarrassed by my eagerness, my chewing slowing. But he held the fresh lemon cookie out to me, obviously pleased with the same behavior that embarrassed me. My lips twitched and I leaned in to take it directly from between his fingers with my mouth in a surprisingly bold whim. Which only made the delighted smile of his grow even more. Before I could pull completely away, he caught the back of my neck with one hand and stole a lemony kiss. I couldn’t help my own little chuckle deep in my throat and found myself a little surprised by it.

I washed the mouthful down with a sip of the brandy, watching him take one for himself and having an experimental nibble of it. “...You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, shooting me a coy look out the corner of his eye. “I do aim to please…. Is it everything you wanted for this night?” He scooched closer as I finished the last of the small serving of brandy in my glass. Climbing into my lap once I placed it to the side. “What else does your heart desire? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

I adjusted myself nervously, my heart skittering about in my chest as his warm skin brushed against mine. “I-I… What about you?” I mumbled shyly. “Surely you must-”

“I have everything I want,” He interrupted, reaching up and catching my face between his palms, “I have the man I love. My whole world. Right here.” He pulled me down gently to kiss me for several breaths. “So tell me, my sweet Prince, what do you want?”

I hesitated, my blush rising to my cheeks. He brushed it aside with his palms, and I peeked at him through my dark lashes. “I-I… I want… I just... want you…” I told him softly. “Just you…” I glanced to the side, taking a small breath, trying to let the words trapped in my chest flow out unchecked. “I-I want… I want to… to wake up next to you every morning, and I want to fall asleep with you every night...” I paused, peeking at him again, but when he didn’t interrupt, I added “...And I am fully aware that we will never wake up at the same time…” He laughed softly at that. Encouraged, I continued on, letting everything pour out in a rush. “I-I want… I want to see what ridiculous outfit you wear everyday, and I want to see you panic when your hair starts to turn white.” I reached up, thumbing his cheek. “I want to see what happens to green skin if you stay out in the sun too long, and I want to rule alongside you a-and leave this Kingdom to our children... I want kids with you… I want lots of kids with you... and I want to see you playing with all of them in the gardens. I want… I-I want to…” I swallowed hard, stammering and fumbling for the words momentarily. “I… I want to love you for the rest of our lives, Grier... and I want those lives to be very, very long…”

His hands slowly slid until he had fully wrapped his arms around me, surrounding me with his spicy sweet scent. Then he kissed me so deeply I thought perhaps the stars in the heavens had always been just a faded copy of the universe that flashed behind my eyes at that moment. The warmth, that lovely, wonderful warmth, started in my chest, and pulsed through me with each beat of my heart. Reaching out to every inch and molecule of my being. Until I couldn’t even remember what it was like to live and breathe without it. I didn’t even feel him lean back, but then suddenly his voice, bathed in tenderness, filled my ears. Blowing air across the smoldering coals burning hot in my chest until my whole body tingled with emotion.

“I see we are a perfect match then, my young Prince.”

...

The End...

#Royal Flush #final chapter #tw: sickness #goblin king #goblin lover #goblin romance #monster romance #monster lover #monster husband #monster marriage #mlm #male x male #tw: death mention #terato #exophilia #angst #slow burn #really fucking slow burn #...nsfw #i'm so sad #fuck #monster x male #monster x human #goblin

[asmywhimseytakesme]

As promised, here is a list of my favorite tropes in fiction. I may continue to refine this over time.

Note, I am not pulling these from a website, I’m writing these up myself. There may be a page on tv tropes for all or most of these, but I’m trying to articulate to myself what I like and why I like it, so I’m naming my own tropes and writing descriptions that are specific to my own taste. I’m also including a short list of examples for each.

Needless to say, if you know of a book or show that includes some of these tropes (the more the better) and it isn’t mentioned here—PLEASE TELL ME. And of course, these are just my preferences and opinions—if you disagree, that’s fine, we just don’t like the same things 😁

These are organized loosely by category—character tropes, relationship tropes, and plot tropes.

Under a cut so people who aren’t that interested in my specific tastes don’t have to scroll forever.

Character Tropes

Mastermind—

An extremely clever and competent character who reads people, pulls strings, and often has a grand scheme the other characters are unaware of. Usually a good guy (at least my favorites tend to be), but doesn’t have to be.

Eugenides (Queens Thief), Miles Vorkosigan (Vorkosigan Saga), Peaceable Sherwood (the Sherwood Ring), Lord Peter Wimsey (the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries) Sir Percy Blakeney (the Scarlet Pimpernel), Sherlock Holmes

Note: all the above examples are male characters, but I don’t consider this a gender specific trope. I would love recommendations of female characters who fit this trope.

Not Just A Soldier / Not Just A Mom

I originally had these listed as two tropes, and then realized that they were just inverses of each other. They each have to do with fulfilling gender stereotypes in some ways, while subverting or transcending them in others.

For a male character in the genres I read, Not Just A Soldier is typically a fighter of some kind, and really good at it. Basically, on the surface he appears to be a very Masculine Male Manly Man. But! It turns out he is also just a really nice guy. And not only that—he’s smart, and he’s good with kids!

On the flip side, Not Just a Mom seems at first glance to be your typical motherly feminine character. But! That isn’t her entire personality! She also has a (not particularly feminine) career and hobbies outside of parenting, and she is confident and competent doing those things—AND (this is important) those non-mothering things she is good at are essential to the plot. (This tends to be less of an issue that needs to be specified with male characters, grumblegrumble.)

So on both sides, we have a character who is fulfilling gender stereotypes on one hand, but subverting them on the other.

Not Just A Soldier examples: Costis (Queen's Thief), Din Djarin (the Mandalorian), Cazaril (the Curse of Chalion), Uncle Iroh (ATLA)

Not Just A Mom examples: Hera Syndulla (Star Wars Rebels), Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan and Ekaterin Vorsoisson Vorkosigan (Vorkosigan Saga), Katara (ATLA)

Adventurous Parent

A parent who continues to be cool and have adventures and stay involved in the plot even after becoming a parent (a GOOD parent, of course).

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian), Dr Mensah (Murderbot Diaries), Hera Syndulla (Star Wars Rebels—-we’ll see if this holds true now that she actually has her own biological child?? Assuming she’ll show up in future Star Wars projects—I’m hoping to see her in the Ahsoka series🤞)

Reluctant Ruler

It seems like many bad guys would kill to be king—and many good guys would really, REALLY rather not be in charge, thanks. But when a good guy is forced by circumstances beyond their control into becoming a ruler, and they decide that they might as well try to do a good job at it, and then THEY ACTUALLY DO—this trip has my whole heart.

Maia Drazar (The Goblin Emperor—this book is basically the perfect example of this trope and I love it SO MUCH), Eugenides (Queen’s Thief), Sophos (Queens Thief), Aral Vorkosigan (Vorkosigan Saga), And hopefully Din Djarin in Mandalorian season 3? OH PLEASE YES I NEED THIS.

Broken, but loved

The name basically says it—these are characters who believed themselves broken, heartless, and unlovable, but others chose to love them anyway. It’s important to note that they are NOT “saved by love”, but they do CHOOSE to try and be better because of love.

This trope just GETS ME EVERY TIME GUYS. It makes my heart hurt in the most joyful way.

Murderbot (Murderbot Diaries), Attolia (Queens Thief), Zuko (ATLA), Medraut (the Winter Prince)

Friend Indeed

This is a simple one—a character who befriends someone who is in the middle of a difficult situation, when it would be much easier to just keep their distance.

Ratthi (Murderbot Diaries), Csevet (The Goblin Emperor), Kuill (the Mandalorian)

Magic Schmagic

The character in a fantastical story who can’t do magic, doesn’t know about magic, and doesn’t WANT to. They just wanna carry on being their own non magical, mundane selves and we love them for it.

Sokka (ATLA), Din Djarin (the Mandalorian), Digger (Digger), Gideon (Gideon the Ninth)

Relationship tropes:

Found Family

Ok, this is a popular one so don’t think I need to explain it. Since these often involve large groups of characters, I’m just going to list a few of my favorite pieces of media where this trope features prominently.

Star Wars Rebels, the Mandalorian, Digger, Murderbot Diaries

Reluctant Friendship

Where two characters are thrown together and one or both doesn’t particularly want to be friends with the other, but as they move through the adventure together they gradually come to like each other and form a friendship.

I also love the romance side of this trope but I’m just as happy to read about a platonic relationship.

Ben and Nathaniel (This Was Our Pact), Kaidu and Rat (The Nameless City), Kamet and Costis (Queen’s Thief), Digger and Shadowchild (Digger),

Magical Animal Sidekick

A character who forms a deep personal bond with a magical creature. It doesn’t have to be an actual creature—in a sci-fi setting this could also be a sentient robot or ship.

Temeraire and Laurence (His Majesty’s Dragon), Ani and Falada (Goose Girl), Murderbot and Art (Murderbot Diaries), Ezra and the Loth Wolves (Star Wars Rebels)

Prose/plot tropes:

It’s Complicated

Related to the Mastermind character trope, the distinction here is that this is a plot that wasn’t manipulated by a single character intentionally, rather it’s a complex series of interactions and misunderstandings that are all revealed to be interconnected in the end.

The Court Jester, Howl’s Moving Castle, To Say Nothing of the Dog, Digger

Sarcastic, Witty, and/or Colloquial narration

The name says it all. I usually prefer this in 1st person, but it can be fun in 3rd person too. In 3rd person it might be the narrator who is witty, or it might just be the main character's thoughts that are witty as related by the narrator.

1st person— The Thief, Murderbot, Digger, Dragonhaven

3rd person—Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, Gideon the Ninth

Written For You

First person narratives are interesting and tricky because there is the question of WHY narrator is telling the story, and who they intend it for. I love first person stories where the narrative is specifically addressed to a person or group, which adds a level of meaning to the story. This isn’t the same as a story told in diaries or letters (though that can be fun too).

The Thief and A Conspiracy of Kings, the Winter Prince, All Systems Red, Dragonhaven

The juxtaposition of Magic and Mundane

I deeply love stories that mix magical things with mundane details of life in a deliberate way. I feel this makes real life feel a bit more magical, and helps magic feel a bit more real. This juxtaposition can be a central idea of the plot, or might simply be present in the way a narrator describes things.

This may be my favorite trope of all, come to think of it (though there are a lot of great ones listed above, so maybe I shouldn’t start naming favorites…) most of my own story ideas center on this idea to one degree or another.

Totoro, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Howl’s Moving Castle, His Majesty’s Dragon, Digger, Hilda, Queens Thief, Dragonhaven

Tropes I would like to see less of: prophecies, hereditary magic, a Chosen One, Soul Mates, fate/destiny. Yes, many of the stories I love involve these tropes, they’re hard to get away from in the genres I prefer to read. These tropes are Iess exciting to me first off because they’re done so often, but there’s a bigger reason I’d like to see less of them, which has to do with characters agency. I’m much more interested in a story that is about a character who CHOOSES to do the right thing, not because they were Chosen, but because they CHOOSE themselves to do the right thing. In the same vein, characters who CHOOSE to build and maintain a relationship are so much more interesting and, frankly, romantic to me than people who are just meant for each other BECAUSE FATE OK. Just.... no. People making tough choices because it’s the right thing to do makes for a much better story (aim my opinion) than people who do the right thing because DESTINY. So the overall theme here is, more character agency! (And as I said above—if you disagree, that’s fine! This is just me listing my preferences and opinions.)

If you read all that—wow! To all those who made it this far, thanks, and if you have any book/show recommendations that involve these tropes, please tell me about them!!

#tropes i like #personal #on writing #on reading #book recommendations #queens thief #the mandalorian #star wars #murderbot diaries #digger comic #studio ghibli #hmc #atla #howls moving castle #vorkosigan saga #and uuiuuh a bunch more but those are the main ones

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Magic (Part 2 of “A Dream”)

Here’s the requested part 2 of “A Dream”! *Familiar characters are not mine! Also, the end monologue is taken directly from the movie. Not mine!*

Fandom: Labyrinth

Warnings: Angst-ish. Fluff! Jareth is a happy Jareth. 

Pairings/Characters: Jareth the Goblin King x reader

The castle loomed ever closer as you fought your way through the Goblin City. It had taken a while, but your memory was no longer fuzzy. You remembered why you were in the Labyrinth in the first place. The guilt ate away at you the closer you got to Jareth's castle. All your stress had compiled into one regretful sentence toward your sibling's child.

         "I wish the Goblin King would take you away right now." The wish from the book you'd been reading since you were a child had passed your lips without a second thought. Now, here you were, fighting to save that child while your mind fought against your heart.

         The dream in the ballroom kept coming back to you and how you felt when Jareth had kissed you. You should hate him. While he had granted your "wish", he'd also made you run his labyrinth to correct the mistake you'd made. You really should hate him, but you couldn't. There was something about the kiss you'd shared and the way he'd looked at you when you'd whispered his name. When he looked at you like that, you knew he wasn't evil. He was…lonely.

         That thought screamed in your mind when you entered the castle. You suppressed a shudder. It was far too quiet for such a large place. Where was everyone? You rolled your eyes at the thought. Jareth had a flair for the dramatic so he was probably off hiding somewhere until he was ready to make some form of grand entrance.

         Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridors while you searched for Jareth and your sibling's child. You opened a door and were greeted with a never-ending staircase. "Are you kidding me?" you mumbled. As you moved to close the door, you heard the baby fuss a bit. You looked above you and nearly screamed in frustration. One last test.

         You climbed staircase after staircase only for the baby to move whenever you grew near. You wanted to cry. You took a moment to sink to the floor to breathe. "Surely you aren't giving up, precious thing," Jareth's voice made your head pop up. He was staring at you intently.

         "No. I can't give up. I need to save the baby." You glanced around to find the child in question below you. It was a long drop and you hated falling. But you knew it was the only way. "You don't have to. I would not harm the child. Give in, Y/N." You glanced between Jareth and the child. "I-I can't."  You went to place your hand on Jareth's cheek, but thought better of it. You turned and jumped down to the baby, but you hit solid floor instead.

         You let out a howl of irritation. "JARETH!" you cried before you tore off in another direction to find the Goblin King. You were beyond done. You were tired of the tests. Tired of your emotions battling each other. Tired of fighting a fight that your head couldn't win. You wanted the baby, but at the same time, you knew what it would mean. It would mean you would have to leave Jareth behind.

         You made your way to the ramparts of the castle with your heart beating faster than ever. This was it.  You just knew. You felt a presence to your left and turned to see Jareth. Once again, he was studying you to see what you would do. "I beat your labyrinth, Jareth…where is the child?"

         "Safe. I have come to offer you one last chance. One chance to make your dreams come true. I have given you everything you've asked for and yet you continue to fight against me. It's time to stop fighting. I know you felt the same thing I did in the ballroom."

         "It-It wasn't a dream?" you asked softly and he chuckled. "I told you it was only a dream if you wished it." He took a step closer to you. You couldn't have that. Whenever he was near you, you couldn't think clearly. You took a step back. "Jareth, please. Give me the baby. Don't make me say it…" He frowned and took another step toward you. With a shaky breath, you began the saying the words you had long since memorized.

         "Give me the child. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City," you paused for a moment as tears began to cloud your vision. Jareth looked so broken and betrayed. "T-To take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is strong as yours and m-my kingdom as great."

         "Stop," Jareth was practically begging. He stepped closer and took your hand in his. He was real. Not a dream. Not an illusion. He was there. "I can offer you so much more than your existence Aboveground. Just love me." You closed your eyes and let a tear fall. "You have n-no-" you cut off.

         "I can't. I can't say it," you whispered. You let your eyes open and meet Jareth's. "Send the baby home. Let them forget this ever happened. Please. Send them home."

         "And you? You would leave me to wither?" You sighed then laughed softly. "Did you not hear me? I asked you to send the baby home. I never said me. I can't explain it, but there's something drawing me to you. I don't know if it's magic o-or something deeper. But I can't leave. I don't want to. I want to stay. I…I want to love you, Jareth."

         You closed the distance between you, reaching out to cup his cheek with your free hand. Jareth's free arm slowly moved to your waist, the way it had been when you were dancing in the ballroom.  His eyes bore into yours, making you grateful he was holding you up as your knees began to shake. Was this what having and finding a soulmate felt like? Because that's what you felt this was. If soulmates existed, you explicably knew that Jareth was yours.

         For a moment, you couldn't move. An invisible force held you in place, bonding you and Jareth in a staring contest neither of you could win. "Is this your magic?" Jareth smiled and shook his head slightly. "No, precious Y/N. It is yours. You have bewitched me when I believed no one could." He rested his forehead against yours for a second before you finally could take it no longer. You shifted your head and pressed your lips against his. Oh yes, this was definitely magic and you hoped you would never stop feeling it.  

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Tagging people who showed interest: @thegirlwhowouldbeking @beeblisss​

#labyrinth #jareth #the goblin king #jareth x reader #the goblin king x reader #jareth the goblin king x reader #part 2

[beyworld101]

Where Everything Seems Possible and Nothing Is What It Seems

Frustrated with baby-sitting on yet another weekend night, Sarah-a teenager with an active imagination-summons the Goblins from her favorite book, "Labyrinth," to take her baby step-brother away. When little Toby actually disappears, Sarah must follow him into the world of the fairy tale to rescue him from the wicked Goblin King... Guarding his castle is the Labyrinth itself-a twisted maze of deception, populated with outrageous characters and unknown dangers. To get through it in time to save Toby, Sarah will have to outwit the King by befriending the very Goblins who protect him, in hopes that their loyalty isn't just another illusion in a place where nothing is as it seems...

~Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered~ ~I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city~ ~To take back the child you have stolen~ ~For my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom is as great~ ~You have no power over me~

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

35 years ago today on June 27th 1986 Jim Henson's Labyrinth was released into theaters. I consider this a masterpiece during my childhood, throughout middle school up until this year. I've re-watched it four times already to refresh my memory of this film and forgotten how incredibly it was perfected by Jim Henson, George Lucas, and David Bowie. I remember during middle school I would draw Jareth in my notebooks. For the 35th Anniversary this year, I've made a poster for the special celebration and it came out so well in the end. I want to thank Jennifer Connelly, David Bowie, Jim Henson, George Lucas, and everybody behind the entire film for bringing this to life and to watch it 35 years later. Thank you, thank you very much for everything......  

[team-council]

Title: It’s never getting titled

TW: Character Death, Lightly Grotesque descriptions of wounds, Possible Scuicidle Implications (I didn’t really mean to imply it like that, but I realize it can be read that way and will tag to be safe)

Description: Takes place directly after the council manages to quell the everblaze from book three. Bronte takes some healing salve to Oralie for her shoulder and reflects on Kenric’s death.

Notes: I would scincerely like to thank anyone who bullied me. I haven’t finished a fic in literally ever, meant a lot. This monstrosity is also not proofread and I am sleep deprived so I’m sure it’s absolute garbage near the end but just ignore that. Might clean it up and put it on ao3 later who knows.

An angry grey sky wept dry shudders of ash over each of the miserable, bowed figures that stumbled across the rolling fields stretching beyond and between the crystalline castles scattering Eternalia’s fading outline. The sun was nothing but a sunken stain on the sky, feathery gold light turned a sick shade of pewter as rising smoke choked the warmth from what of it still lingered beyond the horizon. The neon glare of Everblaze could no longer be seen melting crystal and dragging harsh lines of terror down the face of the distant city, but the air still smelled like burning sugar and dizzying sweetness.

With every ragged breath Bronte drew the saccharine sting of the now extinguished fire coated his tongue anew and prompted another fit of coughing to wrack his body. Though the soot that caked his face in thick, dark splotches had long dried his eyes, the muted sting of fresh burns sweltering along his cheeks and arms coaxed tears to blur his staggering vision. He’d long abandoned attempting anything resembling a graceful stride forward, allowing his feet to stumble over each other with every messy attempt he made to not hit the earth. Ignoring the trembling in his knees. Praying mutely that they might give way beneath him. That he might fall and never get have to get up. A fantasy of melding into the cool grass enticed his mind from the fervent protesting of his aching muscles. He imagined idly how the paled blades would curl at the corners of his mouth, cradle his hands and still the weary tremors that weighted his chest. Dazed, he was unable to keep from fancying what it would be to shatter into the dirt. To become ethereal and unknown, sunken beneath a tangled weaving of root where there would be naught to do but unlearn the world. To divorce sorrow and grief. To let the burdens of the many long centuries he’d endured go in passive dismissal.

His thoughts were interrupted as his foot caught the edge of something tough, and when at last he fell it was only to be met with the glassy, calloused embrace of faceted crystal. A dim, concerned muttering of multiple shrill voices hovered above his head, but as the councillor drew to his knees he found in clarity only the gaunt, drawn man staring back at him through the fuzz of a soot-drowned Amaranth stairway. Reminding him. Mocking him. To disappear was not a mercy he deserved.

“Councillor,”

Bronte was forced to respond when the stairs beneath his legs fell away from him, a large pair of hands having drug him up by the shoulders. Well, respond might have been a gracious word for the half-conscious grunt he managed to the goblin bearing his weight in their palms, his eyes not bothering to search the face of the guard, to know whether or not they held his weakness in contempt or pity. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t fathom caring. All that mattered was that there was no attempt to stop him from dragging his reluctant body up the steps, that no hand batted his away from the knob of the door, that the scanner reading the intricacies of his palm managed to make sense of his identity despite how fresh burns and ash might’ve tried and scrub it away. There was no triumph in the silent, inward sliding of the towering doors, no pleasant rush as frigid, bitter air swept the welts tapering down from his forehead. He hardly found himself capable of much but standing at the brink of the darkness that spilled forward into the until living room at his feet.

Lavish furniture sat steeped in shadows deep enough to sink under, curtains drawn to block the pitiful laces of grey-yellow light that might have struggled through had they been parted. Bronte’s own silhouette was absorbed effortlessly into the black, his whole body soon after as he mindlessly stepped forward, doors clicking shut at his back with an echo of finality.

The world was void of sound until the shake of a fragile breath bit the quiet in faint retaliation. Bronte followed the quivering whimper around the barest, ebon outline of a table, managing to discern only a tenebrous jumble of shapes wrapped up in the stifle of self imposed twilight. Whatever discomfort he might have felt at the still sightlessness, it was welcomed compared to the snap that brought light back into the chamber, cutting through the veil of blissful ignorance that had pardoned any necessity to look upon what it had charitably concealed. However selfish it might have seemed, for the smallest instant Bronte thought of turning the lights off again,

“Sit up,”

It felt wrong to speak- especially ask anything of Oralie. Her ringlets- dull and stringy- pulled down in thick tangled over her face as she rigidly drug her back up the arm of the lovesteat she’d curled into, blankets falling limp onto the floor with a meek thud. Bronte simply knelt atop them, his fingers trailing the pockets of his clock for the smooth outline of a familiar metallic tin. Oralie made no sound of pain or acknowledgement as he pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a thickly wound bandage fastened over her shoulder. The white color had turned yellow, and as the kneeling figure peeled back each layer the room- what of it he could smell above the saturated, sugary smoke bathing his clothes- began to scent of balms and puss, a littering of welts and shrunken skin having festered beneath the dressings. The case in his hands came open with yet another sound Bronte found himself too far away to register, his fingers diving numbly into the salve inside,

“It’s my fault,”

Came a sound like the shifting of a fault line. Bronte traced his fingers over the rim of the burn,

“I couldn’t do anything but watch,”

Cracking like stained glass. Bronte smoothed his thumb across a patch of withered, pink flesh,

“H-he moved so quick,”

He had been avoiding her eyes, her face. And still he found himself caught in both. Her soft features hollowed. Her warm eyes gutted, occupied only by vacancy. Ghosts of the nots. Of the would never bes,

“And I- I jus-just-“

And her anguish came again with vengeance. Came with strength she did not have to spare for tears she did not have to shed. How dare she think she had wept enough. How dare she think she couldn’t hurt any longer. With a long, godless wail it came back to her in waves, thin fingers gripping his shoulders as she curled forward, her whole frame shaking with the labor of forcing from her throat a cry like cracking ice. What little tears she could manage soaked through his cloak,

“And I j-us did no-nothing! I di-didn’t do anything! I jus-just le-let him go! I le-let him d-“

She had been doomed to fail the sentence from the very start, her broken declarations falling to senseless sobs and howls of pain as she rocked her forehead into his shoulder, re-adjusting her grip at his arms every so often as if letting go might send her physically spiraling into whatever pit of grief pulled at her mind, down somewhere she couldn’t be followed,

“It’s not your fault,”

Again. It felt wrong to tell her anything with certainty, even the truth,

“It’s not your fault,”

It came stronger this time. Still a whisper in her ear, but less like a mist and more like a fog,

“It’s not your fault,”

That’s right. It wasn’t her fault. It was his,

“You couldn’t have known,”

But he had.

“There wasn’t a way you could’ve known,”

He’d known everything. That the healing was dangerous. That he should’ve gone with them.

“You did everything right...”

It was his fault that they hadn’t listened,

“I promise,”

That Kenric hadn’t listened,

“You were everything he needed you to be,”

Why should he have? He had been impatient. Stubborn. Cruel. /Weak/.

“You’ve been so strong,”

For the past three years his judgement had been ruled by fear. Fear of a little girl,

“And so brave,”

And hatred. Hatred of species who’s betrayal’d dawned the advent of millenniums lifetimes ago,

“This could never have been your fault,”

Kenric was dead,

“It will never be your fault,”

Because he hadn’t been stronger,

“No matter what you might think,”

Because he hadn’t been wiser,

“Kenric wouldn’t want you to think that,”

Because he hadn’t been kinder.

“Ever,”

Her wailing had only gotten softer, grip having loosened the slightest bit. He couldn’t tell if anything he’d said had reached her or not. Had he even been speaking aloud to begin with? Had he even been loud enough for it to matter? He had to hope so. Their ilk was not meant to die, and thus not meant to grieve death. To mourn in earnest was not theirs. It never was. He knew too well how easily it would be for her to break beneath the weight of it. He could already feel himself webbing with cracks,

“I-I....”

She couldn’t protest beyond a dry heave, her shoulders raised for what felt like ever in a deep wrenching motion as Bronte clasped the fresh bandages over her newly dressed wounds. In the end, she merely fell into him, grabbing his shirt. His arms. His cloak. Anything she could to prove to herself she was still there with him. Every new hold she had on him felt like another clutch of guilt bearing at his knotted stomach. The morphine drip of shell shock had begun to fade and chip away. Clawed to pieces by the daggers of sharp mourning that broke his haze with every whimper Oralie managed into his shoulder. He knew even in the pathetic state he was in he couldn’t outrun his guilt forever. But he’d been hoping that he might for a bit longer. Selfish as it was,

“Oralie...”

He whispered after a moment. And was met with quiet. Quiet and trembling breaths. She’d become heavy against him, her grip gone slack, eyes finally falling to tearless rest. Good. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say anyways. The lights echoed out again with another dry snapping sound and Bronte stood from the thicket of blankets at his ankles, propping Oralie’s head on a pillow before draping her in covers again, still hoping- desperately and undeservedly- that she had believed him.

He paced the length between his and Oralie’s office with more grace this time, aware now of what the lull to fall and fade and become nothing but memory was in truth.

Not escape from sorrow or grief, but from consequence.

Consequence for the person he’d become. For that he’d done to others... There would be no reckoning with Councillor Kenric. He was dead. No apologies or tears- though he would certainly be giving both in abundance regardless- would change that.

But Oralie wasn’t dead.

The rest of the council wasn’t dead.

Sophie wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t dead.

And to that end there were still plenty of consequences to face.

#TW #TW Suicidal thoughts #TW gore #TW death #keeper of the lost cities #angst fic #kotlc council #councillor bronte #councillor Oralie #councillor kenric #so much angst #no beta we die like Kenric

[9thbutterfly]

thank you for indulging me <3 tell me something about imagine a forest, please? And then pick something you really want to talk about and tell me about it, too. The thing that you put on this list and thought "This is cool, I hope someone asks about this"

Imagine a Forest actually came out of a tumblr prompt! Let’s see if tumblr will allow me to put a link here. What I was going to do (but ended up never doing, because I ran out of steam just after the introduction) was have all sorts of people (but mostly queer people) run away to the forest and form their own society there - the people outside of the forest would be scared of of all the witches and elves and whatnot in the forest, but in truth, all of them were just queer people living their best lives.

Imagine a Forest.

Not any forest, riddled with hunters’ and mushroom-seekers’ paths, down by the stream or up on the hill or out among the fields, easily crossed in an hour or two.

No, imagine a Forest, of the kind that lies at the heart of most worlds worth writing books about, the  kind that is sometimes named Fangorn or Aldheorte or the Rain Wilds, and sometimes just the Forest, because there is only the one.

Imagine a vast nation of trees, as big and bigger than the kingdoms of men. A sea of green that stretches far beyond the horizon. Imagine trees, centuries old and higher and wider than the puny trees of orchards and boulevards could ever dream of being.

Imagine a Forest that is populated by more than wolf and bear and boar, by more than deer and fox and bird.

Imagine the hundred-thousand myths that are told about the Forest – of the witches that heal and curse, of the fairies full of dangers and strange gifts, of dwarfs in their underground cities, of dragons and their legendary wealth…

Imagine that people who venture into the forest are driven out by strangely-dressed, not-quite-human figures, and others are found under the eaves of the forest, killed by arrows fletched with colourful feathers, and some are never seen again dead or alive.

Imagine the markets that sometimes spring up by moonlight, where you might barter chickens for shining gemstones, and a sack of grain for wolf pelts and a bolt of cloth for a deadly poison.

Imagine children growing up knowing that if they do not obey their parents and the church, the fairies will steal them away – and yet some of them will not and can not obey, and for some of them, the fairies will come indeed, and others will wait for them many a night, and in the end venture out to find them of their own free will…

For my own choice, hm... I don’t know if Wirü Timay’a/Tell Me, Sister is *cool*, but it was the thing that got me back into rereading my stories and wanting to write again this year.

It is another Kivailo world story, and characters are all Kivailo - an ethnic minority in a country that I made up as a teenager because I, uh, needed people to do awful things to. I think I mentioned when talking about Goblins that I meant to make up a country with an awful and racist government? Most of that racism was directed against the Kivailo, and part of that was attempting to erase most of their history and culture.

Enter the Ivyleafers, an informal group trying to preserve the Kivailo language, mythology, history and many other kinds of knowledge while giving young and unemployed people something useful to do... and there is also a lot of hiking involved, a lot of visiting small remote villages, which I started daydreaming about in these travel-restricted times - and that dragged me back into the Kivailo world a few weeks ago.

I never wrote much of Wirü Timay’a, but it would have had many quotes of songs and stories in my Kivailo conlang, and much travelling, and silliness, and tragedy, and tentative steps back towards happiness and new love and a better future.

I spent that summer running wild, more than ever. I had long since explored the Taly forest, hiked up and down the Shao to the edges of Talymay, explored the New Quarter and much of Ternin town… dragging a few other kids along, who mostly weren’t too comfortable with wandering around Ternin town, or even on my own. Looking back, I know I was lucky that nothing ever happened to me…

I was only fourteen, and I couldn’t stand the thought of another nearly four years confined to Talymay – now that there was no more school to occupy my time, I longed to be out there in the hills even more. I started following the groups going out to pick plums and berries outside of town – sneaking along after them until they’d gone too far to send me back before I showed myself to them.

I got into lots of trouble that summer, and lost all my beads. Who knows how I might have ended if Nicidulai of the House Daranoi hadn’t taken me under her wing. She heard me sing some silly song while we were out picking sloes – a long song about the meaningless things we had learned at school, which my classmates had all worked together at the end of our last year. I believe I was the only one who could recite it in its entirety. I had followed Nici and her group in secret, of course, but once I’d showed myself, I always worked alongside them, and I guess the only reason my House didn’t just lock me up at home was that I always brought home a sizable harvest.

I’ve never asked her, but I think Nici was planning to test me when she started to sing herself. I didn’t speak much shinnai at that time, but by the time she’d sung the song for the second time I could remember most of the words and when she started singing it a third time – looking like she was totally absorbed in her work and singing only for herself – I started to sing along.

Fox, lord of thieves,

In his blackthorn castle

On a rocky throne he sits

Mossy cushions underneath….

She approached me later, on the way home, and asked me if I’d  ever heard of the Ivyleafers.

‘I have,’ I told her somewhat grumpily, wondering what she wanted.

Nicidulai was blunt about it. ‘Ever thought about joining?’

#bookshelfdreams #chatty butterfly #a small spiteful part of me also wants to continue Wirü Timay'a just because some parts of tumblr seems so adamantly against age difference #and Wirü Timay'a has both

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Things I Will Not Actually Write

....okay, so, this has been kicking around my head for a bit and I’m not going to take it any further because getting people to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City never goes well for me (although some of the goblins are wicked fun to write), but.

Um

Here you go.

-

-

“...and the poor girl was practically a slave.”

“Like Cinderella?” Miss Sybbie asked, all wide eyes.

“Very much like, yes,” Thomas agreed. Nanny wasn’t feeling well, so Anna had agreed to put the children down for the night, after she’d seen to Lady Mary. Since that would take awhile yet, Thomas had been roped, without too much fuss, into telling them a bedtime story.

“But Cinderella had two step-sisters,” George protested. “This girl just has the baby, and he’s a boy!”

“Well, a wicked step-brother would be equal to a wicked step-sister, I should think,” Thomas reasoned. He didn’t mind the interruptions too much. He liked seeing how the children thought and the challenge of finding answers to their questions.

“But why only one?” George persisted.

“Was he ugly as well as wicked?” Johnny Bates suggested. “That would make him twice as bad.”

Thomas hesitated. He wasn’t certain he should encourage the children thinking of ugly being the same thing as wicked, in the long run. What if they took a dislike to some visiting dignitary’s face? Still, if he let them bird walk too far, he wouldn’t be able to finish the story before Anna came. “Yes, yes he was. Terribly ugly and terribly spoiled, and so you can see why the poor girl was so miserable. But,” he continued before any of them could cut in again, “What no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love the girl, and he had granted her certain powers.” He switched to his best, sinister voice, which made Caroline hide behind her brother, but she didn’t actually fuss, so he kept going. “’Say your right words,’ the goblins said, ‘And we’ll take the baby to the goblin city and you will be free!’”

“Yay!” Sybbie cheered, a bit preemptively.

Thomas held up a finger. “But the girl knew that the goblins would keep the baby in their castle forever and ever and turn it into a goblin.”

“Well if he was spoiled and wicked and ugly, he was already a goblin!” George scoffed, not at all concerned with the fate of the fictional baby. Johnny and Sybbie nodded in agreement.

“No, he was just a terrible baby,” Thomas corrected, mostly in the interest of keeping the story going. “As a goblin, the girl knew he’d be even worse! And so she suffered in silence until one day when she was tired from a day of house work and she was hurt by the harsh words of her step-mother and she could no longer take it. She looked down at the baby and, in a fit of exhausted rage, she said - ”

“Abracadabra!” George cried, cheerfully.

“Ababada!” Caroline imitated him as best she could.

“Bibbity bobbity boo!” Sybbie chimed in. Thomas had no idea where she’d gotten that.

“I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now.”

“That’s it?” Sybbie scrunched up her face. “Those aren’t very magic words!”

Before Thomas could reply, there was a crash from the hallway that made them all jump. The noise frightened Caroline into tearing up and she started to whine. Sensing a full on wail about to start, Thomas made a quick, soothing noise. “Oh, there now, it’s probably nothing. Teo’s likely knocked something over, that’s all. Here, I’ll go have a look.”

“But the story!” Johnny protested.

“The story can wait a minute,” Thomas told him, standing. “I’ll be back in just a minute to finish it. Promise.” Putting action to word, he stepped into the hallway, letting the nursery door close behind him. Further down the hall, a vase was lying broken in the middle of the floor, which was odd, because there was no reason for a vase to be there. Frowning, Thomas walked over and examined it, then looked around for a sign of anyone. The hall was quite empty. After a moment’s deliberation, he picked up the pieces so the dog couldn’t step on them, and carried them with him back into the nursery. “Right then,” he said, stepping back through the door. “Where were -”

He stopped mid thought and looked at the rug in front of the fireplace where he’d left the small gathering of children. It was empty. Not only that, but the lights had been turned out. Frowning, he flicked the switch, but nothing happened. He looked around the shadowed room, but couldn’t see anything. “Master George? Miss Sybbie?” he asked, making his way carefully over to drop the vase shards in the dust bin. “Miss Caroline? Johnny? Are you playing hide and seek?” He tried the lights again with the same results.

In one of the beds, something moved, making a strange noise, then fell silent.

Thomas froze for a moment, then started slowly forward. “Master Geroge? Is that you?”

Off to his right, a drawer opened, then slammed shut. That was definitely not one of the girls. Thomas stopped in the middle of the room. “Alright, come out where I can see you. Come out right this minute and I won’t tell your parents about this prank.”

Something rolled into the middle of the room, then stopped and looked up at him. It was definitely not one of the children. It was small and roundish and hairy with orange eyes. It laughed at him and then rolled away.

Outside, the wind had come up.

Suddenly the room was alive with things, moving just on the edge of Thomas’s vision. One of them ran over his shoe, making him jump. He whirled, grabbing at shadows, trying to get hold of one of them, but they were never where he expected them.

Something beat at the window. Turning, he saw it was an owl.

He ignored it in favor of the thing that tried crawling up his leg, but was somehow not there when he looked down. There were noises in the shadows. The things he couldn’t quite see laughed and twittered and chirruped. “Show yourselves!”

Something climbed up the wall.

Something else moved behind the curtains.

There was a splintering sound and the window burst open, the owl flying into the room and rushing at Thomas in a flurry of wings. With a startled cry, he threw his arms up to ward the bird off. He’d never heard of owls carrying rabies, the way bats did, but he was pretty certain he didn't want it’s talons in his face.

Then the owl was gone. With it went the laughs and twitters and chirrups. Even the wind died down.

Slowly, Thomas lowered his arms.

There was a figure standing in front of the window, framed by the moonlight. It looked like a man, of sorts. The face was handsome enough, although framed by an absolutely ridiculous puff of golden hair. Really, he’d have thought it effeminate, from it’s length, but no woman he knew would suffer hair like that. Similarly, its eyes were done up like it was in some sort of theater production. There could be no denying it was male, however. It worse obscenely tight trousers.

And yet, for all of its ridiculousness, the figure definitely had a sort of otherworldly aura about it. Thomas swore he could almost hear a kind of music behind the silence.

Only one thought ran through his head: Lady Mary and Anna were going to kill him. “Oh come on!” he protested. “It was just a story!”

#downton abbey #labyrinth #crossover #ridiculous and stupid #never to be finished #just getting it out of my head #let's be honest though #this is about his luck #thomas barrow #bedtime stories #also not all bats are rabid #just putting that out there