#it was supposed to be the tavern originally but then it was going to cost too much to get it to food safety standards

[razorblade180]

Home improvement

[Sumeru Tavern]

Dori:Aether! Have you seen Kaveh? It’s time for me to collect.

Aether:Uuuuhh-

Dori:Stop! You’ve said enough. That alone told me he’s here and told you to say “You didn’t see me.” Let me guess, men’s room?

Aether:….Am I allowed to speak know?

Dori: *sighs* To think a day early on payment has him shaking. I’d collect tomorrow but I have to go on a trip. Kaveh is an intelligent person. I know he’s saved the appropriate amount after his recent commission. What could be the hold up?

Aether:I think anyone would be slightly scared of the person who made them sell their home.

Dori:Kaveh is homeless?

Aether:What?

Dori:What?

………

Aether:Didn’t you…overprice Kaveh or something?

Dori:Overpri- KAVEH! YOU HAVE THREE-

The man already walks out before she could finish that probably real threat.

Kaveh:Stop shouting. You’ll cause a scene! Anyways I still have to cash in-

Dori:Do you have people believing I put you out of a home?

Kaveh:What? I never said that. The project crippled my finances and I owe you money but I never really said…hmm *rubs chin* Okay, I can see how that impression was made.

Dori:Kaveh! That’s slander!

Aether:Wait, Dori didn’t bankrupt you? I heard you had buy a bunch of stuff with your own expenses.

Dori:*slowly turns*…

Kaveh:Who told you that? The situation is more complicated than that. *rubs head* I guess that might be my problem. I tend to avoid topics about my living situation so someone got the wrong impression.

Aether:(Or you were drunk…)

Dori:I commissioned and paid for his work, like I was supposed to. How would I scam a person when I’m the consumer and could afford it!?

Aether:To be fair, you’d find a way.

Dori:Yeah, with haggling! That’s fair game and once again, I’m the consumer. Nobody knows a good deal like I know a good deal. I also know I wasn’t a fan of the location Kaveh wanted for my original house!

Kaveh:The cliff side was a gorgeous backdrop and you would’ve loved it!

Dori:It literally could’ve been anywhere and you insisted on the place that not only you liked, but The Withering loved!

Aether: Original house? It was ruined by The Withering!?

Kaveh:Roughly 70% in fact…

Dori:My hard earned mora, completely wasted! All the resources I bought were no longer good and my palace became a dream I was content with abandoning. I neither cared about it being built nor did I ask you to compensate me for it.

Aether:Wouldn’t have counted as a natural disaster?

Dori:An avoidable one if he had listened, but I let the artist have his way after obsessive insisting. Regardless, I was ready to wipe my hands of the situation, but it was Kaveh who couldn’t let it go!

Kaveh: Your alace is my Magnum Opus; the pinochle of my efforts in physical form. There’s no way any self respecting artist would let that go unfinished!

Aether:*eyes widened* So you paid out of pocket to redo it!?

Dori:Oh no, dear Kaveh did more than that. Like any crazy scholar graduate, he paid for the things he wanted, then pleaded for me to cover the rest of the finances he couldn’t afford in this project I had lost time, money, and interest in.

Aether:….Kaveh.

Kaveh:What!?

Dori:However, I’ll hand him a bit of credit. Despite the fact he was clearly doing this to satisfy his own ideals, I can respect a individual not willing to buckle for them. So yes, I paid the remaining costs of his pride, but not for free.

Aether:So that’s the debt. I can’t even say you got away with a free house, because you didn’t.

Dori:I’m a good talker, but nobody is that good. Anyways, it’s not like I didn’t give him anything worthless. Being your benefactor has introduced you to a several recommendations and work. Knowing you, it probably isn’t stable income because you continue to spend for your dream.

Kaveh:That’s…complicated as well. Putting that aside, I’m not advertising my situation and didn’t go spreading around false accusations.

Dori:Of course. You’re not the type. You would however make a complete mess out of a simple situation. I could refer you to a very savvy financial advisor if you’re-

Kaveh:Not a chance. It’s either you or a book of common sense.

Dori:And just like that, you’re a little sharper. Well I business to attend to. Kaveh, there’s a job regarding a fountain you may want when I get back. Until then, might as well enjoy a meal with Aether. He’s actually eating for free. *walks away*

Aether:(I am?)

Kaveh:*sits down* Sometimes I really can’t deal that woman. I’m drained! So, I can order anything?

Aether:Uh, knock yourself out. Get leftovers if you want. (She didn’t even mention the bill again. Maybe because she’s actually a day early?)

He glances towards the tavern owner as they take a bag of mora from Dori. Guess she has tab here and today it was used.

Aether:(Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given her discounts for me and her past- oh!) Kaveh, question. So clearly not everyone knows the extent of situation properly, yet you still work with Dori despite the drama.

Kaveh:No matter how you look at it, I could only build my dream because of her. She’s one of the few clients that allows nearly complete artistic freedom. I’ll always grateful for that. I just wished she cared about more than money!

Aether:….So why didn’t you just offer your future services for dirt cheap in exchange for living in the palace as a way of managing your debt, having a home, and keeping an eye on your art.

Kaveh:…..

Aether:It never crossed your mind, did it?

Kaveh:*puts head on table*

Aether:Hey Boss, give this man your finest wine!

#genshin impact #gi kaveh #gi aether #gi dori #I just think it’s funny most people don’t read how he became broke

[corvidaedream]

im covered in mouse shit and i wish i could remove my skin and throw it in the washing machine and then shower just as, like, a skeleton for an hour.

#renovating the abandoned schoolhouse that my parents are renovating bc its on the property attached to the tavern #it was supposed to be the tavern originally but then it was going to cost too much to get it to food safety standards #but now my parents are like 'the house is too old & requires too much upkeep as we age lets move' #and for some reason 'less upkeep' means renovating the abandoned schoolhouse. to live in. #and its not abandoned! theres living residents there and they are Mice!!! #and they have been shitting in the ceilings and walls for generations!

[sweetpickolwarrior]

The Three Times You Didn’t Want Them To Hear You, The One Time You Did (Part 3)

Established fic

Small!Brown!Female!Reader

Not too apparent but just letting you know in case.

Fic summary: You have been travelling with geralt and Jaskier for quite some time, you had always been told that your voice would take you places before you had no choice but to abandon your previous life. You still loved it though. This fic explores the times you let go and let yourself sing. We also explore your backstory and the developing relationship with your older and protective companions :)

PART 1 HERE PART 2 HERE

Chapter summary: Bit of a filler chapter, the wait was more so to plan out the rest of the story clearly. Y/N wants to repay geralt for his kindness and show Jaskier that she does not hate him, but has trouble with words and such. Further apologies for the wait... enjoy!

The fact that you had not been sober enough to truly appreciate the room that Geralt had decided to treat you with left you with a pang of guilt, but a wavering reluctance to bring up anything about that night lest he unnecessarily recall the sound of your voice. You don’t suppose he cared much, as far as you could pick out from that night, it wasn't something that mattered very much to him… but then why the room? The situation slightly baffled you. You much preferred going from contract to contract, tavern to tavern, losing yourself in the endeavours of your companions. You roamed the streets of this new, unusually pleasant town, the bustle of the morning bubbling through. Your mind turned to the small sack you had swaddled at the very bottom of your pack buried beneath your myriad of gatherings from your travels. A small, worn leather sack with a drawstring through the top, wrapped in an old sock that had outlived its original duty a few winters ago sat almost full, the weight of the coin inside at most an apple or two. You had kept it for emergencies, a few loaves of bread and some meat if rations had become sparse, a promise payment for a healer or mage, should one or more of you fall incapacitated while coin was low, an emergency room should the cold threaten to settle in someones bones too cosily, and should you feel the need to express gratitude to a generous but stoic witcher, apparently.

You wandered past a bakers stall, sweet pastries dusted with sugar beckoned, small honey dipped loaves with specks of lavender peeking through the golden slopes glinted in the morning light, puffy buns that had been baked with a clever twist in the top to result in a soft swirl sat in a neat row identical to the sweet fresh bread Jaskier had pressed into your palm earlier. You cringed at the thought of leaving so abruptly and didn't like all this coaxing going on, and hoped he would drop the subject so you could shove the topic down your tunic and carry on your simple shenanigans with the bard.

You strolled through, eyes on the dry dirt of the worn path through the centre, ladies walking with shawls wrapped tight around their shoulders gave you curt, tight-lipped greeting smiles as you passed through looking thoroughly disheveled. You had given up on dresses, petticoats, stockings and other such extraneous garments when tripping up on hems or sweating through layers upon layers had become more trouble than your chagrin had been worth. A tunic and breeches were sported now, along with unkempt, thick jet black hair. You tended to forget what a sight you would be to normal folks, constantly surrounded by the bard in his gaudy and intricate clothing (you still didn't know how he survived on the path) and a burly witcher clad almost always in armour and under that, similar garments to yourself. you supposed the three of you stuck out like an arrow between the eyes. Your mind flashed to what your mother may have said should she see you like this. It confused you for a moment, these memories suddenly deciding they were welcome in your conscious thoughts over the past few days. you stuffed the sudden pang of guilt and shame back into oblivion as your hands moved to your tangled mop, carding roughly through so you may find some semblance of being put together.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried hard not to cast your eyes down to your fingers, out of practice as they were. You tried to feel the sections, pick up more as you went, comb through soft with your fingers lest the ends get tangled, keep hold of the ribbon. Roach was being very patient with you. The fire warmed your back as you sat on your knees, tending to a horse who had decided to sit for you. You didn't know much of equine tendencies, but had heard that horses do not sit save for when it was going to rain. Your mind moved to days where your little troop had no choice but to trudge through hail, rain and thunder. She did not object and kept on wonderfully through these times and was rewarded with kisses and slips of dried fruit from you later on.

She had decided to understand what coaxing her to the floor with a brushing, soft words and rubs on her neck had meant that night and folded her legs, coming down with an impressive and somehow graceful thud. You supposed you couldn't know everything about everything and the clearest answer was that she’s just a very good girl. You relaxed as your fingers fell into a rhythm - right strand, left strand, ribbon, taking care to adjust the material so the nicer side was showing. “Expensive.” Geralt stated simply from behind. He was checking through his own pack, counting off vials of witcher potions and such. “Yes, well - an extra room must have cost.. and the food I didn’t touch” you focused on your hands, knowing Geralt was probably trying to avoid eye contact, too. After hearing a somewhat soft “hmm”, your attention returned to your fingers, having now grown a mind of their own. Roach’s auburn mane turned a dark coal in your minds eye, her soft huffs to small complaints of tugging too hard “hush now, or it won’t look nice” you barely whispered as her head jerked, it was an impossible task to try tie the hair of any child into a neat row, your sisters no exception. Your breath slowed as your mothers lullaby sat in between your lips, you tried to grasp the first note of the soft song.

Sisters? Here?

Your knees were cold and sore, kneeling on the ground so long, knobs of grass settling aches into your muscles; your hair unkempt and hastily scraped back, with a small leather tie, bumps hilling over your scalp that you had no care of. Your hands were dirty, grubby from foraging scraps of dry wood to keep warm through the night. Calloused from the past few years of plucking the string of your bow with arrows that reminded you with every swift hit that death was something permanent, immediate, inescapable. These hands were not the same ones that softly put braids in your sisters’ hair. These calluses were not the same ones that came from making music.

The first note of that bloody lullaby froze on your toungue.Best to stop trying to live in the past. Not that you were, trying that is. You wanted nothing more than those memories to keep sitting in the little box in your mind where they were meant to be. Happy, silent, unbothering. Instead they kept feeling the need to rise up, to pester you and drag you away, remind you that those days would never come back, that your whole life had vanished.

Well, this was your life now and different as it was, you needed to live in it. You pushed away the offending memories for the second time that day, focusing on finishing Roach’s mane.

Impeccable timing as always, Jaskier came strolling through after having washed everyone’s clothes in a nearby stream, no doubt a vein of the river you had found yourself in those few days ago. “Honestly, why do I bother? They're bound by fate to stink of ash and dirt anyway- I know! I could write a shanty about the smoked Witcher’s shirt - a real pub sway! Sometimes he smells of heroics and adventure! The whiff of a lady’s perfume often, but will always return to the ash of a trusty campfire” he leaned to put the folded pile down neatly. You were in awe of how these thoughts came running from your musical friend, you were convinced that he could write a song about watching clothes dry and still make it magnificent.

Ah. Exactly.

A dramatic gasp came from the bard, no doubt with a soft hand upon his chest. Your fingers tensed as you pat roach and tried to seem as nonchalant as possible.

"Now! Which one of you has been able to tie a bow so pretty all this time?”

You had laced the ribbon, as careful as you could to not disturb the strings, behind where they were pulled taut to the tuning pegs of Jaskier's lute, taking care that the tails would not brush against the front or impair his hands while playing. The ribbon you had bought was a soft lavender colour, embroidered with a deep violet, floral and feathery motifs weaving through the sleek fabric. You turned to see Jaskier caressing the fine fabric “I shall have to have an outfit made to go with this! Oh what a look that could be for the bardic competition this autumn! Simply revolutionary, a great stride forward in musical fashion! Bows woven through lutes, gods-” a theatrical palm to the forehead “How had I not thought of this before- and Roach! Oh! Exquisite, Y/N,” it seemed he had finally clocked onto the fact that this was your doing, both you and Geralt huffing amusedly as he was practically flying with excitement “I daresay Roach could be a fine show horse! Beautifully healthy and muscular, a shining coat, those deep glistening eyes- “She’s not a show horse” Geralt grumbled "I said could or rather might've been, had the twines of fate been wound a little looser.." You chuckled softly as your trusty bard rambled on into the night about how he knew a thing or two about show horses (being one in a past life, most likely) and you prepared your bedroll, smoothed it out with your hands and checked how close your damp clothes were to drying. When you reflected on Jaskier's words, you thought about how the warm and bitter smell of ash and smoke and fire made from Witcher magic was comforting to you. As you settled, you tried to smell other things, maybe someday you could smell half as well as a witcher if you trained hard enough. Ash, smoke.. the small burnt remnants of a meagre fish dinner, the distinctly horsey smell of Roach, the faintest traces of lavender lingering in your hair. You supposed you could try to hone in your hearing, too. You got comfortable, wriggling a little further in, catching a glimpse of the fine ribbon you had bought before closing your eyes...it was nice to see the splashes of the bright colour woven through your little group. You could first hear Jaskier mumbling on, the scratch of his quill onto the notebook he carried, the pops and snaps of the fire, the wind breathing contentedly through the leaves above, the last clinks of Geralt's potion bottles, then the slight crunch of careful steps in leather boots, his hands patting roach and hushed, almost inaudible whispers of him calling Roach his "pretty girl".

A/N : Hello, dears! I hope you've all been well and taking care of yourselves - I know it has been a tremendous wait. i've been planning the rest of the story out (i'm rly annoyingly particular about it) and lots of things have been a bit crazy the past two months. I hope this chapter isnt dissapointing given the wait but get ready for big angst, hurt/comfort and further progression of the story and characters in the next two chapters. I feel this filler was needed to transition into the next part of the story. I might change the description some as this story is not only about the fact that Y/N can sing, but also focuses on the way that changes her relationship with the boys.

More on the interactions of this night for the boys' POV in the next chapter probably x

I'm hoping the story is well fleshed out and flowing, and that its clear that singing is a great comfort and big part of Y/N's character. I hope its easy to immerse yourself and such. Again, its such a pleasure to receive likes and comments, and i'm very grateful to anyone who has read so far... be ready for great developments! As always, constructive criticism is welcome xxx Thanks gang!

Also yall thank my lil sister for helping me write this, she doesnt have an tumblr account so I cant tag her or anything but she super cool and rambling to her rly helps me organise my writing.

stay blessed!

tagged people:

@ladylizzieofdarbyshire i cannot find @sihxm i did try xxx

#the witcher (tv) #witcher #geralt #jaskier #geralt of rivia #reader #geralt x reader #jaskier x reader #platonic!jaskier x reader #platonic!geralt x reader #platonic geralt #platonic jaskier #mentor geralt #protective geralt #mentor jaskier #shy reader #reader has anxiety #developing friendships #tragic backstory gang #poc!reader #woc!reader #reader is brown #reader can sing #strap yourselves in for the next chapter gang

[felassan]

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 annotations & additional pages/art compilation

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 is a hardcover collection of some pre-existing Dragon Age comics that was released in 2014. It comprises of all issues of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. In places, it includes additional annotations/commentaries by the illustrators and authors, as well as a few additional pages with additional art. iirc these additional annotations and pages/art aren’t featured or available anywhere else (in the franchise I mean; other people have probably put them online at some point I’m sure).

From what I can see at least, Library Edition Volume 1 is no longer in print, and as such listings for it on resale sites etc are.. price-inflated & prohibitively expensive (~£100+, which I’m sure we can all agree is just not reasonable or accessible to most people). Due to this, I’ve compiled the additional annotations and pages here in this post. Thank you and credit to @artevalentinapaz, who kindly shared the material with me. This post has been made with their permission. The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

These commentaries are in the context of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. If you notice any errors or annotations missing, or need anything clarified, just let me know. I think the annotations are in chronological order. In places I elaborated in square brackets to help explain which part of the comics an annotation is referring to. A note before you proceed further: some of the topics referenced in the annotations/additional pages are heavy or uncomfortable. The quotes here are word-for-word transcriptions of dev/creator commentaries, not my personal opinions or phrasings.

(Also, I do recommend always supporting comic creators by purchasing their comics legitimately. I own each issue of these comics having bought other editions of them all legitimately. The reason I put this post together is because this specific Library Edition volume has been discontinued and the consequently-inflated cost is so high, rendering the additional material inaccessible to most.)

-----

The Silent Grove annotations

Illustrator Chad Hardin: “I used to be an environmental artist for video games, so I built a 3-D model of Antiva City using the program Silo. Many of the buildings are simple cubes, but a few are more detailed. Overall, I spent the better part of a day building it, but I used it again and again throughout The Silent Grove to maintain continuity in the backgrounds.”

Script Writer Alexander Freed: “Even working with David Gaider, it took me several drafts to find Alistair’s voice. His narrative had to convey his humor and self-doubt from Dragon Age: Origins while suggesting a newfound weariness earned during his years on the throne. For readers familiar with the character, he needed to seem like a changed Alistair - but Alistair nonetheless.”

Chad Hardin: “If you read a lot of comics, you might wonder why the majority of the heroes wear skin-tight suits. Well, I can tell you: they are easy and quick to draw. In video games, you build the model once and then animate it, so details don’t slow you down. In comics, everything has to be rendered by hand. Varric and Alistair’s outfits were quite detailed. It took me a long time to get used to them, and even longer to memorize the designs until drawing them was second nature - Varric’s knee armor in particular! Oy vey!”

David Gaider: “One of my favorite scenes in the entire series [when Varric and Isabela are disarming traps and picking locks together while Alistair looks on]. Isabela and Varric, doing what rogues do. I had a suggestion for how to put it together, but Alex managed to make it fit and did a great job with it.”

Chad Hardin: “I never used to keep any of the artwork I created for comics. I would just hand the pages over to my agent to sell. This page [when Alistair, Varric and Isabela are in a tavern together, with hookah in the foreground] I kept for myself. I love the hookah-smoking elves in the second panel and Isabela’s face in the last panel. I rendered the first four chapters of The Silent Grove in grayscale using ink washes, gouache and Copie markers.”

David Gaider: “For a little while, Varric [in these comic stories] was supposed to be Zevran from Dragon Age: Origins, which would have made sense, Zevran being Antivan and all. I know that some fans would have loved to see him, but the dynamics of the group just didn’t work as well. Then a planned cameo later had to be cut for space. Ah well, Zev, another time.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela at her most dangerous [climbing up the side of the cliff]. This scene - featuring a scantily clad, dripping-wet woman who tends to flaunt her sexuality - could easily have come across as exploitative, but Chad did a lovely drop portraying Isabela as purely focused and deadly.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela rising out of the water and scaling the cliff with the knife in her mouth is one of my favorite parts of The Silent Grove. It is one of those moments where the writing really inspired the art. Hats off to Alex and David. This is another page I kept for myself.”

Colorist Michael Atiyeh: “This is one of my favorite Dragon Age pages. Chad is such an amazing artist; I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love that this page [when a guard spots Varric and shouts ‘Intruder!’] made it in uncensored. So many times in comics, I draw something and some stuffy lawyers come out of the woodwork and tell me to tone it down. Dark Horse and BioWare always let me have fun, and this turned out to be one of my favorite pages with Varric and Bianca. Any guesses to which word he is mouthing in the second panel?”

Alexander Freed: “Note the simple decency of Alistair as he gives his cloak, without comment, to Isabela. For all his flaws, he’s genuinely kind at heart - a rare enough trait in Isabela’s world that I think it’s much of what she values in him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love the opening panel to this chapter [the opening panels to Chapter 3, when the team are on a ship at sea]. It’s the image I use on the homepage of my website. This page was a gift to my cousin Wendy, who loves pirates. Seascapes with sailing ships might be clichéd in fine art, but for me it was a first.”

David Gaider: “I wanted to have this story center on the group travelling to a Witch of the Wilds other than Flemeth, and originally I had set it somewhere else - until I remembered a Codex entry from Dragon: Age Origins that offhandedly mentioned a witch in the Tellari Swamps. Brilliant! It’d look like I planned it all along. I didn’t.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love opportunities where I can show a change in the time of day as you move from panel to panel [when the ship heads towards and the team arrive in the Tellari Swamps]. I feel the palette of each panel is very distinct and beautiful.”

Alexander Freed: “Why did Alistair choose two people he barely knows to be his companions on this quest? We never make this explicit, but of course Varric is on the right track. Alistair wants to surround himself with people who don’t know him and won’t judge him, yet it’s Alistair’s idealism that Isabela and Varric work to preserve.”

Chad Hardin: “Another page where the writing inspired the art [when the group suddenly encounter a dragon]. I love the dragon bursting onto the scene and Isabela’s stare. Some writers will try to cram six or seven panels on a page like this and the pacing just doesn’t allow the artist to give each moment the right punch. Can you imagine if the first panel was crammed into a single square inch?”

Chad Hardin: “Yavana was one of the only characters that we did no preliminary sketches for. I don’t know how that happened, but thankfully it worked out.”

David Gaider: “I love how Yavana looks like a cross between Flemeth and Morrigan. Flemmigan? She’s totally Chad’s design, and it’s great. Typical for these witches, she never says things straight. In my mind, this Alistair is the one who did the Dark Ritual in Dragon Age: Origins - and I was half-tempted to have him lose his cool in this first scene [opening panels of Chapter 4] with her. Too early, though.”

Alexander Freed: “Through this whole sequence [the page when Varric aims Bianca at Yavana], Yavana is dropping cryptic hints and Alistair is refusing to play along. He’s met Flemeth and Morrigan - he knows Yavana won’t give him a straight answer, and he won’t give her the satisfaction of asking needlessly.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Sometimes it’s the little things on a page that spark my interest. Here [when the team navigate vines and mud to get to the temple], the sunset panel came out great and the mud looks really thick and gooey. It’s fun to focus on these details and make them stand out.”

Chad Hardin: “I hated drawing this scene [when Isabela gets kicked] where Isabela gets the boot to the face. Call me old fashioned, but I was raised to believe that only a coward would ever hit a woman (even a battle-hardened pirate adventurer). I draw at home, and my girls often watch me work in my studio. This was a page I didn’t want them watching me draw. I do like, though, that Isabela gets up, yanks the arrow out, and then soldiers on (and later extracts brutal revenge).”

Michael Atiyeh: “Poor Isabela. It seems I gave her more bruises and black eyes than any of the other characters. [when Isabela is yanking the arrow out]”

Chad Hardin: “It’s always interesting to go back and look at artwork because it reminds me of what was going on in my life at the time. I inked this page [opening panels of Chapter 5] at a ‘draw night’ session at an anime convention in St. George, Utah. I was one of the special guests, but I missed the first day because I was at my grandfather’s funeral in Las Vegas, Nevada. Seeing this page brought back those memories.”

David Gaider: “‘Bianca says hello.’ [quoting the panels being referenced] I adore Varric. I was tempted to have him narrate the entire series [in reference to these three comics], but then again I liked the idea of having each series center on one of the trio’s viewpoints. This book belongs to Alistair, but that doesn’t stop Varric from getting all the best lines.”

Alexander Freed: “Claudio, of course, is not a terribly sympathetic figure. But I wanted to emphasize that he takes this fight as personally as Isabela - he sincerely loved Luis and blames Isabela for the man’s death. I think it’s important to give every character, even the most loathsome, some dignity. [when Isabela and Claudio are fighting]”

Chad Hardin: “Payback! Here is where Isabela extracts her revenge on Claudio [when Isabela stabs Claudio]. I never enjoyed killing off a character so much. I particularly enjoyed putting the look of shock in his eyes. He had it coming. There is something satisfying about killing a ‘made man’.”

Chad Hardin: “Every now and then when drawing comics, I wish I could animate some panels and watch them as a cartoon. It would be great to see this sequence [when Yavana catches Claudio’s soul] in full motion as Yavana snatches Claudio’s soul, makes it reenter his corpse and then extracts information from him until he bursts into flame. It was a very Hellboy-ish moment. I enjoyed the movie that played in my mind while drawing this scene. Hope everyone liked the result.”

Chad Hardin: “As I mentioned on page 17, I rendered the first four chapters in grayscale, which made the black-and-white art look great, but had a neutralizing effect when it came to colors. By the time I drew chapter 4, I had seen the effect it was having and decided to stop using the grayscale so the colors would pop. When I saw this page [when Alistair says to Yavana ‘And we helped you find it’] in print, it confirmed to me that I made the right decision. I honestly feel this art was the best of The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I practically painted these pages [when Yavana says ‘It is permitted. Tonight and only tonight’] in thumbnails hoping it would help me choose how to render them in ink. It is so hard trying to figure out how to get a full range of value out of just black and white. There are some artists and inkers that make this look easy. Mark Schultz comes to mind. Michael saved my bacon. Colorists really do so much work when it comes to rendering; this page came out awesome because of him.”

David Gaider: “Here we reveal the existence of Great Dragons (as opposed to High Dragons), and also that Yavana was the source of the return of dragons to Thedas after their departure for so many centuries. But why? There’s the rub, and not even Alistair can trust that she’s telling him the truth.”

David Gaider: “Here’s the controversial scene [Alistair killing Yavana]. I think some fans don’t like that Alistair did this, and have said they consider it out of character. I don’t. From his perspective, Flemeth and her daughters have been toying with the world for reasons that can’t be trusted. They dragged Maric away from his family, from him. One might think his judgement foolish, but considering what Alistair was capable of deciding even back in Dragon Age: Origins, it’s certainly not out of character.”

Chad Hardin: “[same scene as above] This was a controversial page, and there were a lot of people who thought it was out of character for Alistair to kill Yavana (I didn’t see it coming - I mean, you just don’t kill a Witch of the Wild), but here is the thing: this page is Alistair acting as a king. Yavana has been manipulating him, trying to play him like a pawn, and he just can’t allow that. There’s too much at stake, for himself and for his subjects.”

Alexander Freed: “The end? An end, at least [the trio walking off into the distance]. The series needed a note of closure while leading into Those Who Speak (which wouldn’t arrive until many months later). David tweaked the ending in the outline several times, and I did my best to balance resolving Alistair’s emotional journey without resolving the quest. It’s not as clean as I’d have liked, but fortunately, now it’s all in one volume...”

Those Who Speak annotations

Alexander Freed: “Capturing Isabela’s narrative voice was much easier for me than capturing Alistair’s - partly because I’d already written The Silent Grove, and partly because of my own writing proclivities. Rereading now, I wonder if I laid on the (mild) profanity a bit too thick. I’ll leave you to judge.”

David Gaider: “I like the additional detail Alex and Chad put in, letting us see more of Qarinus and more of Isabela’s crew. Alex wanted to give her crew more of a presence, and let her first mate have some face time, so they weren’t just parts of the scenery. Good call on his part.”

David Gaider: “I’m really fond of the formal getups Chad made for the party. Isabela’s actually comes from a concept we didn’t use from the cancelled Dragon Age 2 expansion, if I remember right. And Maevaris came from me asking for ‘someone who looks like Mae West’ - with the wonderful outfit all Chad’s doing.

Chad Hardin: “Maevaris. I love Mae. When David and Dragon Age art director Matthew Goldman spoke to me about designing Mae, they wanted her to be fully female with the exception of her biology. They told me to think ‘Mae West’. Well, when I think of Mae West, I think of her... womanly shape. So, drawing Maevaris was always walking a fine line between portraying Mae’s identity and her biology. The process endeared her to me.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Just like in The Silent Grove, we are introduced to another gentleman from Isabela’s past [when the team meet Lord Devon and Isabela threatens him]. As was the case with Claudio, he will meet his fate at her hands.”

Chad Hardin: “When I was drawing Titus, my kids asked me why I was drawing ‘angry Jesus’ or ‘evil Jesus’. I can’t remember which term they used exactly, but it made me chuckle. I was going for a mix of Rapustin and Joe Stalin, but ‘evil Jesus’ would do.”

David Gaider: “I’m not sure it’s apparent here [when Alistair says ‘I’d really rather not’], but Alistair was supposed to be using one of his Templar powers on Titus (that’s why Titus recognizes what he is on the next page) and disrupting his magic.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela is witty and charming enough that it can be easy to forget that she’s not, in fact, a nice person. Even after finishing the outline, David was concerned about making her too unsympathetic - but I loved his approach in this series. The dark deeds Isabela commits - this murder included [Isabela killing Lord Devon] - are what make her guilt tangible and no easy matter to overcome.”

Alexander Freed: “I thought the notions of Isabela’s pride in her captaincy and dedication to her crew were some of the most interesting aspects of her character in David’s story. In scenes here [when Isabela is on her ship saying ‘Keep them focused and keep them sober’] and elsewhere, I did my best to emphasize their place at the core of Isabela’s world.”

Chad Hardin: “Most of the time I draw from imagination, but because of the complexity of this page [Qunari trying to board Isabela’s ship] I decided it would work better if I had photo reference. On this page are my nephews Jared (Varric) and Adam, my niece Melissa, my kids Erica, Tasey Michaela (Isabela) and Chad (Alistair), my friend’s daughter Amy, my wife Joy, and the neighborhood kids as Isabela’s pirate crew. (The crew member mooning the Qunari is out of my ol’ noodle.) I paid their modelling fee in pizza and root beer. Also, I had originally drawn cannons on Isabela’s ship, so if there are parts of it that look slightly wonky, chances are there was a cannon there.”

David Gaider: “Ever since the BioWare artists finally did a concept for female Qunari, I’ve been itching to include one in the game. It’s always slipped through my fingers, so I was going to be damned if I’d have a Qunari plot in a comic - without the same technical limitations - and not have one present.

Chad Hardin: “I had no idea this was the first time anyone outside of BioWare had seen a female Qunari.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I really like the lighting in this sequence [Isabela in her cell thinking ‘I haven’t eaten in days’], especially the strong white light and the characters in shadow.”

David Gaider: “The entire sequence of Rasaan interrogating Isabela was something I plotted out in detail when this series began. Here they discuss names - something treated in a manner peculiar to the Qunari, considering how much importance they apply to what things are called (and not called), because it forms the core of their identity. Isabela brushes it off, but as we find out later it’s also at the core of her identity. I liked that parallel.”

Alexander Freed: “To balance out the relatively static talking pages elsewhere in the issue, I hoped to make the interrogation and flashback sequences beautiful and full of information. I proposed an approach to Chad, and he wisely reshaped it into what you see here [the page with the scene where Isabela says ‘I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes’]. Anything that succeeds on these pages should be credited to him; anything that fails is my fault.”

Chad Hardin: “Probably the most challenging spread I have ever done. My friend Stacie Pitt was the model for Isabela on this page, and my wife Joy was Rasaan. I saved these pages [around the scene when Rasaan says ‘Mistakes can be corrected’] for myself.”

David Gaider: “Sten from Dragon Age: Origins becoming the new Arishok of the Qunari was something we'd planned even during Dragon Age 2. This was a great opportunity to show that, and also to show that Sten didn’t acquire horns even despite the makeover the Qunari received in DA2. Hornless Qunari are considered special, and Sten is no exception.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I think that David, Alex and Chad handled Isabela’s flashback [to when she was sold by her mother] in an interesting way, and it created a nice flow to the story.”

David Gaider: “This was a controversial scene [what happened to the slaves Isabela was transporting], the end result of a lot of discussions between me and Isabela’s original writer on the team, and it went through a lot of revisions over that time. It needed to fit with the story Isabela told the player in DA2, but fill in the blanks of what she didn’t tell. We didn’t want Isabela to be someone who became who she is because she was ‘broken’ but instead as a result of her own actions - yet also not be completely beyond redemption.”

Chad Hardin: “These were hard pages [as above] to draw. It was difficult knowing that events such as this are part of human history, such as the Zong massacre in 1781, where the British courts ordered the insurers to reimburse the crew of the Zong for financial losses caused by throwing slaves overboard when faced with a lack of water. Horrifying beyond words.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Here, Isabela visits here crew, and I wanted to play up that she was in the light and they were in a dark cell. The light streaming through the bars gave me the opportunity to highlight Brand, who also had dialogue in the scene.”

Alexander Freed: “I struggled to find a way for Varric to contribute to victory without distracting from Alistair and Sten’s big fight. I’m happy with the solution: a brazen lie seemed appropriate to the character without taking away from the main show.”

David Gaider: “I believe my original plan had Isabela’s and Alistair’s fight scenes happening separately, but I like how Alex intertwined them in the script and I especially like how this ends up highlighting the differences between their characters when their fights are resolved. Isabela is defiant, revealing her name not because Rasaan demands it but because it’s her choice. In both cases, mercy is strength.”

Michael Atiyeh: “The brush I created for the clouds really gave them a nice watercolor effect here [on the deck of the ship, Sten calling Alistair ‘kadan’]. That brush has become a staple in my toolbox.”

Alexander Freed: “With the strong theme of names running through these issues, I liked the notion that Isabela had outgrown being, well, ‘Isabela’. When her name comes up in Until We Sleep, it’s largely played with ambiguity.”

Until We Sleep annotations

Alexander Freed: “The story of ‘Arthur’ is one of my favorite minor sequences [Varric infiltrating and fighting his way into the fortress]. It tells us something about Varric and it delivers plot information - and it’s also a reminder that our heroes kill an awful lot of people during these series and cope with it in their own ways. In general, writing Varric let me skirt the edge of metacommentary, which I greatly enjoyed.”

David Gaider: “Varric, as always, is my ‘voice of the narrator’. Here he’s expressing some of my own amusement at Alistair’s growing list of peculiarities [‘Your majesty is quite the special snowflake’]. To think, back at the beginning of Dragon Age: Origins he was just the player’s goofy sidekick who grew up in a barn.”

Michael Atiyeh: “By the third series, Until We Sleep, I really started to have a complete feel for what I wanted the final art to look like. As an artist, it’s important to continue to evolve and grow. The close-up of Sten’s face [same page as above] is a perfect example of how I wanted the rendering on the characters to look.”

Alexander Freed: “David’s outline called for a short, somber reveal of the Calenhad story by Sten. Fueled by my desire to avoid ‘talking heads’ sequences, I scripted it as a full-on storytelling flashback. David made sure the history worked (at least from the Qunari point of view), and Chad did a beautiful job handling it in a mere two pages.”

David Gaider: “Blood is important in Dragon Age, as a theme. Here we tie in the dragon blood that was mentioned all the way back in The Silent Grove and explain what it means at last. I was a bit hesitant to tarnish the legend of Calenhad the Great in this way, but I comfort myself with the knowledge this tale is but a viewpoint and not necessarily the entire truth.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Titus melting the attacker is a great example of classic comicbook storytelling and exactly what made me fall in love with the medium.”

David Gaider: “I was really happy with how Chad handled the reveal of Mae as transgender [the scene with Mae in the cell]. My worry was that Varric finding her disrobed might be potentially titillating, but I think he handled it nicely. I only wish there was more time to have Mae properly respond to being exposed in this manner, even to a friend.”

Chad Hardin: “I originally drew Mae as female [same scene as above], then changed her anatomy, so the psychological violation and humiliation she felt would be the focus. Hope that came across.”

Chad Hardin: “When in doubt, have Bianca shoot it [Varric shooting the artifact].”

David Gaider: “This scene [Varric and Bianca the dwarf] with Varric was one I wanted to do for a very long time. We’ve hinted that Varric’s crossbow was named after a real person, someone he never wants to talk about. Now I finally had the chance to show why.”

Chad Hardin: “Of all my Dragon Age pages, this scene was hands down my favorite, because Varric is my favorite. It was awesome to get to draw Bianca in her dwarven form. These scenes give you a glimpse of the love Varric and Bianca shared. It doesn’t tell you the whole story, but you can assume plenty from what is shown. You get to see Varric mostly naked (you’re welcome), but most of all you witness Varric’s heartbreak. I felt privileged to draw it. I got so obsessed with drawing this page I did an entire watercolor painting based on the last panel [Varric gets up to leave, ‘This isn’t right’ - ? or perhaps the scene where he opens the door to leave].”

Alexander Freed: “Unreliable narrators are always tricky - done wrong, they can just confuse the reader. But I’m fairly happy with Varric’s lies throughout this series, most of which are used to downplay the emotional cost of events rather than whitewash the events themselves.”

Michael Atiyeh: “This palette worked perfectly [Varric standing in front of the doorway/portal in the Fade proper], but I can’t take all the credit because BioWare provided reference for the Fade. I added the hot orange energy for the doorway, which looks great with the sickly green sky.”

David Gaider: “This scene [Isabela’s Fade nightmare] was actually inspired by a fan named Allegra who did a cosplay as a Qunari version of Isabela. I knew I wanted something like this for Isabela’s Fade section of the comic, but it didn’t really solidify until I saw the cosplay.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela is more affected by her encounter with Rasaan than we were led to believe. A portent of things to come?”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love this shot of Mae in the fourth panel [on the page where Isabela is affected by vines]. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention what a great character she is in the series, and Chad captures her beautifully in this shot.”

Alexander Freed: “I saw this issue as a sort of downbeat victory lap. Over the course of the previous series, our protagonists largely came to terms with the inner demons the Fade confronts them with here. The fact they’ve come so far lets them win this last battle... but they still have scars that will never completely disappear.”

David Gaider: “Maric was in the first two novels I wrote for Dragon Age. Seeing Chad’s rendering of him as a regal, grown-up version of Alistair made me incredibly nostalgic. Some characters you just never let go of.”

Alexander Freed: “I feel Varric’s lines (‘tell yourself the stories you need to tell’ but ‘never live your own lies’) are the natural endpoint of all the exchanges he’s had with Alistair, starting from the end of Chapter 1 of The Silent Grove. And of course it plays off the story of ‘Arthur’, as well.’’

Chad Hardin: “I’m happy with the way Titus came off in these pages [Titus attacking and saying ‘The last magisters of Tevinter were so close’]. He looks threatening and powerful when fighting Alistair, Isabela and Varric, but genuinely confused by his inability to defeat Maric. Bye-bye, evil Jesus.”

Alexander Freed: “I can’t help but feel for Titus. He was unthinkably corrupt, but I see him as genuinely motivated by Tevinter’s glory. (The fact Alistair reads zealous ideology as a lust for power says a lot about both characters.)”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love the seamless transition of color from Titus’ magic to the dragon breath and then back into the orange remnants of his magic in the smoke. This was a really fun panel to color [Titus saying ‘Die by what wrought you’].”

David Gaider: “‘You are not the dreamer here. I am.’ I always have a scene or a line that’s in my head when I begin a tale, and this line of Maric’s was one I wanted all the way back when I started working on The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I love this page [Maric and Alistair clasping hands]; Mike’s colors are spot on. We get to see all our heroes in an ideal state for the last time. This is the last Dragon Age page I saved for myself.”

David Gaider: “This scene kills me [Alistair destroying the Magrallen]. I knew it needed to happen; I knew I wanted it to happen even back when I began the story. Alistair lets Maric remain in the Fade rather than dragging him back to a world which has moved on. Alistair’s ready to move on, but forcing him to give up that hope... it makes me feel like a bad person.”

Chad Hardin: “Heartbreak for Alistair as he realizes that once again, as a king, he must kill: this time, his own father (granted, the Magrallen did most of the work). I really like how Maric crumbles away in the end. This was my last page, and the emotions on the page and in my studio were very final. Altogether, this was a year of my life in the making. On my last page, I wrote a thank you to everyone involved, the crew at Dark Horse and the crew at BioWare. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank them again. It was a thrill. Finally, a huge thank-you to the Dragon Age fan community, whose support was overwhelmingly awesome.”

Michael Atiyeh: “As the story came to an end, I knew I was going to miss these characters. Writing these annotations reinforces the fact that I hope to work with this great creative team again one day. Many thanks to Dark Horse and BioWare for the opportunity to work on Dragon Age.”

Alexander Freed: “The tension between the art and the narration on this page [the one with Alistair sitting on his throne while nobles argue] is something you can only pull off in comics. Neither tells the full, bittersweet story alone. Similarly, these issues wouldn’t have been possible without everyone on the team; thanks to David, Chad, Michael, and everyone I lack space to list!”

Additional pages / art

Library Edition Volume 1 also came with some additional pages, with additional art and commentary. These are as follows (I’m including them for the sake of completion, click the links to see):

1. Alistair and dragon concepts

2. Rasaan and Maevaris concepts

3. Sten, Titus and Yavana concepts

4. A series of cover pages 1

5. A series of cover pages 2

In case anyone has trouble reading the notes that accompany these images, I’ve transcribed them below:

1. Dragon Age Sketch Book

Alistair Concept 

Dragon Age / Dark Horse

Chad Hardin: “The headshot of Alistair is from a finished sketch with a rejected armor design. In order to save time, the redrawing was completed on the computer, where tweaks and changes are quick and easy, if somewhat less glorious.”

[Dragon] Head #1 / Head #2

Chad Hardin: “Everyone liked this dragon sketch so much that Dark Horse printed it for signings at conventions. You can see I did multiple proposals for the dragon’s head. It was more effective than drawing the body over and over.”

-

2. [arrow pointing to Mae’s sleeve] concealed [I think that’s what it says anyway] daggers / shurikens?

Chad Hardin: “When designing Rasaan and Maevaris, I wasn’t exactly sure how their roles would play out in the series. Maevaris’ outfit was inspired by brothel madams of the Wild West. I thought it would be cool to have some weapons concealed in the formal wear. These never came into play in the series, but they were there in my mind.”

-

3. Chad Hardin: “Although we only see Titus in his battle garb in one issue, I really liked the design of his armor. The sketch of Yavana was done on the fly and served as both a rough preliminary sketch and as a panel layout. You have to work hard and smart in comics to keep up with the deadlines.”

-

4. Cover Artist Anthony Palumbo: “This was my first assignment for Dark Horse, and I was both excited and nervous. I drew pencil sketches of the main characters, scanned them and played with different arrangements, poses and color schemes in Photoshop.”

-

5. Anthony Palumbo: “Fellow illustrator Winona Nelson helped me by sitting for photo reference. I created the mock-jewelry with gold-painted Sculpey. That’s a quick photo of my own gaping maw, to help with the image of Varric.”

#dragon age #bioware #video games #artevalentinapaz #alistair theirin #fav warden #morrigan #queen of my heart #long post #longpost

[jimlingss]

Ducklings & Dimples

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 26.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Adventure, 30% Fluff, 20% Action, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: Min Yoongi is sent off to the town of Millpass to complete a quest for his mentor. But there, he’s humiliated when he gets scammed and stolen from by the same person - you. // Alternatively: They like to call you a cheat, but you like to call it business. You’ve learnt that nothing in life comes for free. Rather, there are opportunities. And when you run into a certain human fighter with blonde hair, you’ll take advantage of his protection and embark on a quest together for profits, dragons, and a blossoming romance.

➜ Notes: Inspired and set in the world of Dungeons and Dragons. However, you do not need to have prior knowledge of the game or have played in order to read the story. ((Extra Info: Dungeons and Dragons is a fantasy role-playing tabletop game set in an imaginary world based loosely on medieval myth.))

The town of Millpass is lively and welcoming to its many tourists and travelers. It’s open to creatures with all kinds of backgrounds; the wealthy are able to purchase rare spices from the marketplaces while the poor arrive here to make a new living for themselves. It’s a place of opportunity.

  But Yoongi isn’t here to enjoy the town in spite of being a traveler — even if he’s observing his surroundings, taking in the warm weather, the animated atmosphere, the bustling tavern and wooden stalls lining the streets. Even if he’s feeling better after the tiresome journey getting here.   You, on the other hand, are taking full advantage of what this town has to offer.   “Get your potions of resistance! Made from the most experienced artificers and warlocks in the depths of Chult! Won’t get it anywhere else! Get your potions! Can’t go into battle without them!”   You’re holding stoppered bottles in both hands. The one in your left is a bubbling, neon red while the other is a frothy, icy blue. There’s a sign dangling from your neck and your leather satchel is slung across your body, a bag of holding that houses the rest of the bottles.    “Get your bottles!” Every time you jump, your braids bounce and dust flies onto your peasant dress and boots, but the brown shades easily hide just how dirty you are. “Excuse me, sir. Would you like one?”   You stop a brute-looking Dragonborn on the street and by the look of the axes in his possession, you assume he’s a barbarian. Your neck hurts when it knocks back to look at him. His shadow looms over you like a tree providing shade on a Summer’s day. He’s well over six feet tall.   “What does it do?” his voice is low and raspy, his brow lifted at the bottle.   “It’s potions of resistance! This one gives you resistance on heat and this other one gives you resistance on cold damage. They last for twenty four hours.”   “Twenty four? I thought it was only for an hour.”   “Well these are made specially from an ancient artificer from Chult that learned from a warlock that specializes in herbalism,” you say and he seems reluctant to believe you. After years of this, you can tell he’s about to walk away, so you come closer with shining eyes. “You wouldn’t want to waste this opportunity. Better to take a risk and try than to walk away without ever knowing, right? Don’t you want to satisfy your own curiosity and doubts?”   There’s a moment of silence.   Your persuasion works.   “How much?”   “Two gold pieces.”   “One,” he negotiates.   You hum as if considering it. Then, you nod. “Deal.”   The ruffian Dragonborn barbarian hands the gold piece over and you give him the glass container with the scarlet liquid, thanking him for doing business with you. As he walks away, you flip the gold coin up into the air with your thumb and snatch it in one hand with a grin. But there’s still nine more bottles to sell, so you quickly take your place again.   “Get your potions. Get your resistance potions—!” Your attention is suddenly taken by a passing stranger with a rounded face, sleepy features and baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead. “Hey, you! Duckling hair!”   Yoongi turns around at the shout and realizes you’re looking right at him.   Duckling hair?   He pinches the strands on his head, eyes flickering up, confused as all hell.    “You don’t want to miss this chance!” You grin and hop over to him, pulling another bottle out of your satchel swirling with a pale, pastel yellow that matches his head. “Want a potion of resistance? It’s made from an ancient artificer in Chult who learnt from a warlock who specializes in herbalism kits!”   “N—”   “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime.” Your eyes skim him from head to toe, eyeing his outer clothing that you know wasn’t cheap. He wears a black, ample cloak with a hood, wool shirt and a sturdy belt that holds two different swords, and brown boots like you. “You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? How often do you take leaps of faith? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions! Very suitable for fighting beasts and creatures. You never know when you might need it and it might just save your life!”   You’re persistent — your coaxing’s a talent in itself. And against all odds, Yoongi finds himself forking over a gold piece to the grinning peasant girl with glittering irises.   But as he walks away, wondering why he bought one, he brings the stoppered bottle up to eye-level. Yoongi swishes it and he sighs, realizing it’s just water. Dyed water in a bottle.   Feeling like an idiot, he turns around.   But you’re already gone.   //   After a successful morning of business, you decide to satisfy the hunger in your stomach and the stout lady behind the stall seems just as ecstatic as you wolf down her boiled and fried shrimp.   You pass her a silver piece as you grab another skewer of pineapple and lemon shrimp, inhaling them within seconds. Eyes pinpointed on some pepper shrimp, you fish into your bag for another silver or copper piece, but all you come up with is gold.    Gold that you know you need to save.   “Ca’ I ge’ one on th’ house?” you ask with your cheeks full.   The plump woman glares. “No.”   You’re unable to pout when you’re chewing your mouthful, but you suppose it’s fair. There’s nothing free in life. But there are opportunities. And as you swallow down your food, a man approaches the stall. At once, you recognize his tender features and the strands of his blonde hair that remind you of rubber ducklings.    Yet, he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to you or recognize you from earlier.    You suppose this is fair too — after all, you’re dressed in peasant clothing that’s meant to easily be overlooked and disguise you amongst the crowd of commoners.   “What’s your most popular kind?” he asks the stall lady who happily smiles.   “Of course, it’s our shrimp gumbo,” she answers and it’s ironically the most expensive one.   “I’ll take two then.” The man with pale lemon-coloured hair takes two silver pieces out of his pocket, handing it to her and she nods, telling him that it’ll be right out. In the meanwhile, you eye his pocket and naturally shuffle over. Turning your head as if you’re looking in the other direction, your fingers dip into his open cloak pocket. But your luck is rotten this time.   The man turns his head.   He looks right at you.   “Hey!”   Your hand curls around a foreign object and you snatch it before taking off. You run, darting down the road as fast as your legs can take you. But when you turn your head, you nearly scream. He’s hot on your heels, his gentle features twisted in an intimidating scowl. He looks like he’s going to kill you and it only serves as motivation to sprint faster even if your lungs burn.   He chases you, but when you turn the corner of the street, you duck behind an alley.   Looking down, you cuss. It isn’t a sack full of coins. It’s a damn scroll.    Opening it, you find it’s been sent by Mirla Nistar, some random lady who you’ve never heard about, and it details a quest to help this woman in the case of her missing daughter.    It’s useless………..Or is it?   At the same time, Yoongi heaves for air. His hands are on his hip and he cusses, having lost sight of you. In the span of one day, he’s been scammed and stolen from.   The town of Millpass isn’t welcoming at all.

As much as Yoongi wants to get out of this place, he knows he can’t until tomorrow at the earliest. He still has a responsibility to fulfill here, or rather, a favour. He’s been called to help his mentor’s old friend and if he didn’t respect her so much, he would’ve already left.   “Oh my goodness, you must be who Mirala sent! Come in, come in.” The tubby woman wearing three strands of pearls widens the door. He nods his head silently and makes sure to wipe off his dirty boots before he follows her inside her abode. He eyes her massive painted portrait hanging in the main room above the mantle that seems to follow him wherever he goes.    The ceiling is high, golden curtains draping the large bay windows into her garden bed and a couch and two armchairs are arranged in a semi-circle. The only luminescence comes from the orange glow of the roaring fireplace and Yoongi notices a buff Dragonborn barbarian seated comfortably in one of the armchairs, staring at the flames as if entranced.   Yoongi takes a seat and the Dragonborn seems to notice him, turning to stare.   “Hello. My name is Yoongi.”   The Dragonborn merely grunts.   “Tea anyone?” the woman tottles over with a tray.   Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”   The woman looks over to the Dragonborn and he nods. She pours it for him and drops in two sugar cubes but he never takes a sip. Yoongi clears his throat and looks to the clock, watching the arms tick away. “Is this everyone?” he asks, not expecting he would have to take this journey with only one other person.   Usually an adventure of this capacity would take four to five, but he didn’t mind.   The fewer people, the more efficient and faster the quest can be completed.   “I guess so.” The woman musters a smile and takes a seat. “I’m just grateful that anyone showed up to help me at all. If you don’t know my name is Sorli Stav and my….my daughter, Mina Stav, was taken by a dragon.”   The Dragonborn sputters and then clears his throat. Yoongi cocks a brow but returns his attention to the woman so she can continue telling her story.   “One minute we were in the middle of the forest and the next, I heard this roar and there was wind and then she was being taken! Gone! Just like that! Oh, my poor baby!” She clutches her pearls and wails ear-piercingly. “Please help her! It has to be the Dragon of the North. No one would do such a treacherous thing as to kidnap someone in broad daylight like that!”   “My condolences,” Yoongi offers to console her. His hands are placed on his knees and his posture is straight. “We will try our best to rescue her, rest assured.”   She nods, wiping the area beneath her eyes gingerly with her ring finger. “I have a sister in Rutherglen. Ashal Stav. She can help you. She lives close to the North. Please…”   Yoongi turns to find the Dragonborn staring at the flames that flicker. He’s been strangely silent so far. But then his lips part and he speaks three words...in an odd voice, slightly muffled but reminiscent of a child trying to lower their pitch. “What’s the reward?”   “What?” The woman’s head lifts and she exclaims, “Anything! I’ll do anything! You can have anything you’d like! Even my daughter’s hand in marriage.”   “No. I want gold.” The Dragonborn sharply inhales and leans forward while looking around the room as if estimating how much the house is worth. “How about ten thousand gold pieces….”   Yoongi nearly chokes. But he doesn’t comment — he’s met many different adventurers after all and each of them have their own motivations and quirks that are unnecessary to argue against.   “That’s all I have in my vault,” she murmurs, disheartedly.   “Five thousand for each of us. I think that’s fair. After all, the risk of fighting a dragon is substantially high and we’re putting our lives on the line. Unless….you don’t think your daughter is worth that much,” he mutters, clearly persuading the woman and succeeding in it.   “Deal! I’ll do it!” she agrees wholeheartedly and the Dragonborn barbarian grins.   “Of course, we’ll need half of the prepayment first before we can embark.”   She rises to her feet immediately. “I’ll run upstairs and scrape up what I can!”   Yoongi stares at the brute Dragonborn whose face glows in the fire’s crimson light. And the Dragonborn finally takes the dainty teacup to drink from it, pinky raised in the air.    The moment the lady comes back and the payment of two thousand five hundred gold pieces for each of them are given out, there are a few farewells said. She pleads with them to help her daughter until the last second and both nod, reassuring her that the girl will return shortly. But the moment the door shuts and Yoongi looks to his side, the Dragonborn has vanished.   He finds him down the road and quickly catches up. “Shouldn’t we discuss our plans?”   “Huh? Yeah, maybe in the morning.” The Dragonborn clears his throat. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”   “Wait. I don’t know your name,” Yoongi says, coming to a realization and quickening his pace when the Dragonborn walks faster.   “It’s Robert.”   The Dragonborn begins to break out into a light jog, getting farther away from him. Yoongi’s brows furrow deeper, exasperated by the evasiveness of his partner. He still has countless questions, needs to set a time and place they can meet tomorrow, so he shouts, “hold on!” and Yoongi extends his hand.   Except, his fingers go straight through where the Dragonborn’s shoulder should be.    Like it’s an illusion.   The two of them look right at each other.    Yoongi’s mouth opens. His eyes are wide. He’s baffled beyond speech. But then the Dragonborn takes off without another moment to waste, sprinting down the road. And it’s déjà vu.    “Hey!”   Unfortunately for the Dragonborn barbarian, he’s unable to make his getaway. Not when he’s too busy paying attention to Yoongi chasing him and not straight ahead. And his body collides roughly with another.    “Watch it, you!” the stranger snarls and it’s a stranger with the exact same face as his. “Wait a minute….!”   Yoongi catches up and looks between the two of them in absolute bewilderment. He wonders if this is some nonsensical dream or if he’s fallen into another plane of existence when there are two duplicates of every entity.   The two of them look up and down one another as if mirror reflections. They wear the exact same clothing, their faces exactly alike down to the detail, the weapons they carry the same.   “Who are you?!”   “W-Who are you?”   But on closer inspection, Yoongi finds tiny details that make all the differences. The Dragonborn he was speaking to is shorter and visibly thinner. The other Dragonborn, on the other hand, is towering in stature and his voice booms menacingly down the night street illuminated by lamp posts.   The Dragonborn Yoongi’s unfamiliar with steps forward and draws his greataxe. “I am Astrid, the Great from the Yarjerit clan! I am a descendant of the Wyrm Regent of the North, an ancient Golden Dragon from Everlund.”   Yet the Dragonborn beside him doesn’t back down. “I am Robert, the Great from the Yarjerit clan! I am a descendant of the Wyrm Regent of the North, an ancient Golden Dragon from Everlund.”   “Liar! You think I would not know everyone in my family?!”   “You’re the liar! You think I would not know everyone in my family?!”    It’s utterly ridiculous and Yoongi’s about to walk away from the sheer senselessness of the situation that’s worsening his headache. But then the Dragonborn who was with him flickers. Like the flame of a candle. Parts of his body become translucent, fading and flashing. He looks down at himself as if coming to a realization and cusses—   “Shit! Fuck.”   The spell ends.   The claws turn to fingers, mess of ropy hair morphing into two braids, golden scales and reptilian frills to smooth skin. The hide armor alter back into a brown dress, white chemise tucked into a full brown skirt and a bodice crisscrossed over to hold the attire together.   You’re fucked.   Yoongi’s eyes become rounded, his expression clearly telling you that he finally recalls who you are — but there’s little to dwell on when there’s a much larger threat at hand that also recognizes you.   “Wait a minute!” The real Dragonborn barbarian huffs from his nose. “I know you! You sold me that fake potion from earlier! You’re that fraud!”   “I prefer the title charlatan,” you say with a tiny smile and then slide behind Yoongi for cover.   Yoongi’s face twists in distaste, his mouth goes lopsided and his brows knit together as he looks at you, the conniving peasant girl who stole from him and scammed him too. But before he can move aside and let you deal with the consequences of your own actions, the Dragonborn clutches his greataxe with both hands and a battle cry tears from his throat.   Yoongi sighs in exhaustion and pulls his rapier from its sheath.   The Dragonborn barbarian swings. The axe hits Yoongi in his left shoulder but the blade is dull and not deep enough to make a real cut. The impact does more harm, but his grip tightens and he slashes the barbarian. It’s a critical hit, causing the Dragonborn to stumble back and Yoongi surges forward once, slicing the other male’s arm.   He shouts in pain and surrenders, backing away.   “I’ll find you again, thief! This isn’t over!” he swears and you peek out from hiding behind Yoongi’s frame.   The Dragonborn’s eyes narrow and he turns, eventually disappearing down the dark street.   Once the coast is clear, you finally breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks for that, Yoongi. You really saved me there. I thought I was going to be in trouble for a second.”   You grin. It’s good to put a name to a face...or rather, a name to some hair. Calling him duckling right now wouldn’t be appropriate after all. But the man appears entirely unamused with your familiarity with him.    His brow cocks and his glare is only slightly intimidating. “What’s your real name?”   You hum. “Sorry, can’t tell you that.”   Yoongi scoffs and extends his arm, opening up his palm. “I want my scroll back and I want a refund.” The faster he gets his belongings returned to him, the faster he can leave. “You gave me dyed water.”   “I would give you back your gold piece, but I’m afraid I already spent it.” You smile brightly, hoping he doesn’t count the heavy sack of two thousand five hundred gold in your bag of holding. “And I left the scroll at Sorli Stav’s house. It’s not like you need it though, right?”   His impassive expression never changes.   “How about I strike you a deal?” You come closer, arms behind your back. “I was going to run away with the prepayment, but I’ll join you in your quest as a way to show my gratitude.”   Your eyes flicker down, scanning the expanse of the human fighter. You have absolutely zero plans of joining him in crawling into a dragon’s lair, but he doesn’t need to know that. All that matters is that he’s proven himself capable and strong. It might just be beneficial to go along with him for a little while. He could protect you, at least until your journey to Bogsburrough.    But the man never answers your offer, he merely scoffs.   //   It’s bright and early in the morning when you finally see a certain duckling-hair male exit the inn. He’s stretching his limbs, features still sleepy. But the process of getting the kinks out of his neck is interrupted when his eyes stray to you and he realizes you’re looking right at him.   “About time.” You approach, having been leaning against a wheelbarrow across the road with your arms crossed. You need to get out of here before that Dragonborn barbarian finds you again and tries to dig that axe into your leg. “I’ve been waiting for a good hour.”   “I have no plans in letting you join me,” he states in a husky timbre, already walking off.   You sync your steps with his, joining his side as you tilt your head and enjoy the azure shade of the sky. “That’s too bad then, but looks like we’re going in the same direction. What a great coincidence!” As if to mock him, you grin and hold up the scroll you claimed to have lost. Yoongi glares and snatches it back.   “Do whatever you want,” he mutters without looking at you and pockets the scroll.   You click your tongue in annoyance, falling behind him.    “Unlikable prick,” you curse in Elvish.    Suddenly, Yoongi turns around, bringing you to an abrupt halt. “That’s a new one. Usually people call me moody or a cold bastard. But if you have something to say, then at least be honest with yourself and say it to my face.”   You’re shocked.   You can feel your face heat with embarrassment, but more than that, you’re impressed.   With a newfound vigor and enthusiasm, you catch up with him and even overtake his speed. You lean close to the man, inspecting his facial features and ears closely. But he doesn’t look like an elf. “Are you a Half-Elf? How can you speak Elvish so fluently?”   “No, I’m not a Half-Elf,” Yoongi sighs halfheartedly. “I was just taught the language.”   Just like you.   You’re curious. Maybe the two of you had more similarities than you thought.   “Sorry, my bad,” you apologize in the foreign language with a cheeky smile, following along happily.    Eventually, the both of you leave the town of Millpass behind with your little bags and belongings, taking the path up North. Or at least that’s what you’re assuming with the way Yoongi pulls out his map and tilts it around every so often. Part of you worries he doesn’t know where he’s going, but if he got to Millpass in the first place then you know he’ll figure it out.   After all, it’s not like you’re eager to go complete this little quest of his.   Payment of no payment, you don’t fuck with dragons. You’re the last person who should fight one.   “I have a plan. A way I think the both of us can come to an agreement on.”   “Which is?” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, still concentrated on his little map.   “What do you think of commissioning other heroes to go fight this battle for us?” you offer with glittering eyes. “We can pay them a hundred gold pieces each, which is quite a lot. And then we can go back to Sorli Stav and collect the rest of our reward. We wouldn’t profit as much, but it’s worth it and there’s no risk of danger!”   Yoongi eyes you in silence. “You’re good at persuading others, aren’t you?”   You scoff, lifting your chin up high. “Of course. I should be! It’s my career, after all. I’m a business woman.”   “A cheat?”   “A business woman,” you insist much to his amusement.   From the corner of your eye, you swear Yoongi smiles.   The forest is humble, lush, and blooming. Its canopy is eclipsed by willow, elm, and sycamore, their leaves and branches allow for just enough light to cascade through to the grass beds beneath. The array of common flowers adds a playful element and makes it brighter, letting you enjoy the view as you take the stone path winding through the trees.    Yoongi is often quiet, you realize. Maybe he’s not one for making small conversation or he’s suspicious of you — which you wouldn’t blame him for considering the things you’ve done and the nature of your occupation. So your ears tune to the buzzing of the insects and the birds chirping overhead. Until the noises are overridden by boots and other voices in the evening.   “Oh I can’t wait to get myself some pork chop and curds. I’ve been craving it for a whole month.”   “No way! Our first meal is totally going to be cheese pie and onion soup! That tastes a lot better than pork chops!”   “Nu-uh!”   Another voice pipes up, “How about minted pea soup?”    They’re a group of adventurers. You can’t see it in their weary faces, worn clothing, and weapons at their sides. And immediately you grin. The timing couldn’t be any better.   “Oh!” They stop when your groups cross paths. Their excited eyes meet yours and Yoongi’s; the man is much more reluctant than you are. But you suppose he isn’t naturally enthused in the first place. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen other people! Are you travelers as well?”   “Something of the sort.” You smile, arms placed behind your back and by the glare Yoongi pins to the back of your head, you know he can tell there’s an idea brewing in your head.   With the sun falling over the horizon after a long day of journeying, it’s rather easy to persuade them if you and Yoongi can join them in setting up camp. They seem eager to allow you in as well as if they’ve missed seeing new faces around and you wholly take advantage of that.   “This is Alvyn,” the leader gestures to the small, fey creature with a warhammer discarded by his side as he’s busy digging into a frog on a skewer. “He’s our cleric Gnome.”   “Nice to meet you,” he says past a cheekful and you swear some of the food flings into Yoongi’s face, making the man glower and wipe his forehead.   “This is Thunder from Bright Cliffs Clan,” the Half-Elf gestures towards the catlike humanoid. He’s slender and covered in spotted fur, a long tail flickering behind him and retractable claws that digs into his roasted chicken thigh. You look between him and Yoongi, perplexed at how much Yoongi looks like a cat as well. But you don’t voice it out when the man glares at you for staring at him for so long. “He’s our Tabaxi ranger.”   “And I’m just an old man,” the old man pipes up with a hearty chuckle and thick accent you recognize from the South. “Chester’s my name, but everyone calls me Chuck.”   “He’s our Druid,” the Half-Elf says with a smile. “And I’m Greg, a Half-Elf bard.” He’s as tall as Yoongi is, but with longer hair, the tips of his ears pointed and he’s much more poised.   “Nice to meet you. I’m just a peasant girl.” Yoongi scoffs and it’s your turn to glare. But when he never introduces himself, you nudge him roughly, jabbing your elbow in his ribs until he relents with an enormous sigh.   “Yoongi. Human. Fighter.”   “Sorry, he’s unsociable.”   “Not to worry!” Greg laughs. “It’s just nice to meet you all. Where were you headed?”   “We’re going to Castrow,” you lie without even blinking. “My husband and I are visiting his mother.”   Yoongi is sorely unimpressed. But the others nod joyfully, looking between the pair of you as if they didn’t expect you to have that kind of relationship. Though, they don’t question it as if it’s completely believable.    “That’s quite a long way away,” Chuck says, “You ought to be careful around these neck of the woods, you never know what might jump out of you.”   “That’s right!” Alvyn exclaims. “There might be wolves.”   “It’s okay. My dearest husband will protect me.” You grin at Yoongi but his expression remains impassive and he makes no comment much to your dismay.   They seem like a capable group, one that can fight a dragon off and might just be willing to do it for a hundred gold coins each. It might take some sweet-talking to convince and hire them, but you don’t think it’ll be particularly difficult. For now though, you try to get yourself acquainted with them and build some rapport.    “Hey, isn’t that going to burn?” Yoongi taps you on your shoulder and you break out of your trance. He points to the mutton you have at the end of your stick that’s being roasted in the fire.   You pull it out and it’s charred all around, a thin layer of black. You shrug. “I like it like that.”   Yoongi watches you eat it and his face twists as if he’s biting into a lemon.   The entire group is seated around the campfire and you’re sitting especially close, not worried at all by the sparks. It’s comforting and you feel a natural pull to stare at the red and orange flames, listen to the crackle and sputter of the fire, watch the smoke until you fall asleep…   But you force yourself out of it when there’s an abrupt scream.   The Gnome is shrieking terrifyingly, black boot upside down in hand. Then, he bursts out laughing in embarrassment. “A spider got into my boot!”   “No worries.” The Tabaxi is sympathetic. “That’s happened to me more times than I can count!”   “Who’s turn is it to tell a story?” Chuck says mid-chew. “It better be a good one and not like that one about the snake that gave that apple to that lady in the garden. That was terribly boring.”   “It’s my turn.” Greg raises his arm and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. You and Yoongi are getting whiplash, turning your heads and trying to keep up with their fast-paced conversation.    Greg clears his throat. “Back when I was in Al’bamo, I heard this wondrous tale. Many whispered his name. A boy, called Jungkook, said he made a heavier-than-air machine, that could fly without magic.”   There are ooh’s and ahh’s around the campfire.   You look around at them, watching the way they lean in as Greg continues, “He rode what was called ‘The Airplane’ out of a cliff, as a crowd watched him fly it into the unknown. Legend says Jungkook will one day return, giving flying machines to everyone.”   Uh-oh. One of your worst fears is manifesting—   They’re idiots.   “Excuse me,” you raise your voice and enunciate each syllable carefully. “What adventure exactly did you just embark on?”   “Why, we were sent to investigate why animals in the forest have suddenly dropped down dead and why people who have wandered inside have gone missing!” Chuck says as he strokes his white beard and the others around him nod. “We went in and got lost for a full week! Had no clue where we were going whatsoever!”   “You...didn’t have a map?” Yoongi asks, interested in the story as well.   “We did,” Greg says, “But then we found out no one could read it.”   The old man laughs. “Anyhow, we really thought we were going to die of starvation or dehydration, whatever comes first. Then luckily, we happened to come across a pond, so we drank from it. But the water was poisonous!”   The Tabaxi shivers as if he can still recall. The Half-Elf nods along.   You’re listening while becoming progressively more horrified.   “Then we ate some leaves and those were poisonous too!” Part of you wants to believe these are all exaggerated lies to build up the comedic effect but by each creature’s expressions, you can’t detect a single shred of deception. “What do you know, the ogre who was wreaking havoc in the forest came by and thought we were dead. So he dragged us to his cave to eat us, but right when we were put in the water, the ogre suddenly clutched his chest and fell over.”   Your brows shoot up. “A heart attack?”    They shrug.   “Anywho, we stumbled out of there, fell down a few ditches, rolled down a few hills. Almost died again. Then this little fellow,” Chuck says as he signals to the Gnome cleric, “found us and cured us from the poison and now we’re alive!”   “We defeated the ogre!” Greg declares with a giant hurrah and they high five one another.   In the meanwhile, you and Yoongi exchange equally skeptical expressions.    They accomplished their goal out of astronomical sheer luck — which is a talent in itself.    But you can’t rely on pure fortune.    Looking at them with clearer perception, you know it’ll be an impossibility for them to fight a dragon and not die trying. They’ll never be able to do your bidding for you.   Night falls and there’s a little more conversation exchanged before they’ve all fallen asleep.   You’re sleepy as well, knees gathered to your chest, arms wrapped around and your head beginning to bob as you stare at the blazing inferno. You’re sitting close but you’re most comfortable there where the fire is right in front of you and the flames nearly lick at your cheeks.   “This is not going to work,” you murmur to Yoongi whom you still know is wide awake. He’s distrustful of others — you can tell with the way he refuses to relax around these strangers, still seated straight and his vision swooping around the darkness of the forest. “It’s not worth investing in this group.”   He laughs, the sound mellifluous in your ears and above the crackle of the bonfire. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”   “I’ll just go,” you exhale in exhaustion. “The reward is worth it anyways, but I can’t promise I’ll help you fight that dragon.”   Yoongi hums a low note deep within his chest and shifts his gaze towards you. He finds the fire is yet to die out. If anything, it’s brighter and more blazing than before. He observes the way you poke and prod at it, as if you don’t have it in you to let it die out.   “What kind of magical caster are you?” Yoongi asks. He knows full well the only ones who can disguise themselves the way you can are bards, sorcerers, or wizards. But you don’t have musical instruments with you or any magical items he’s seen either.   “What do you mean?” You turn to him, blinking once. “I’m just a normal peasant girl.”   He scoffs, knowing better than to believe you.   And a smile forms on your features.   You return to stare at the fire, listening to the soothing sputter and pop.    “My name is Y/N,” you murmur and Yoongi never says anything in response. But if you turned around, you would see the way your name forms it on his lips, speaking it silently as if it’s something to remember.   //   The pair of you continue your journey and the group of ‘heroes’ are sad to bid you farewell, but you’re happy to get rid of them. If there was anything more than a sham than you, it was them.   You can already envision them going back to town and being celebrated — without anyone actually being aware that they did absolutely nothing. They’ll reap the benefits and rewards, have feasts and be honoured. But you suppose that’s the way life is. The undeserving often are the most praised. It’s not like you mind it though, sometimes it can be good to take advantage of.   You’re also glad to get rid of them considering it’s less chaotic and much quieter. You prefer it when it’s just you and Yoongi. His company is rather pleasant, even when you’re used to just traveling by yourself.   “You know, we can take a shortcut to Rutherglen through Bogsburrough. Have you ever heard of it?”   “I’ve heard of it.” He side-eyes you. “But it’s a detour, not a shortcut.”   “It’ll be a detour that’ll be worth it.” You grin. “I’ll make sure of it.”   Yoongi scoffs, about to ask you how you’ll do that — but the banter is abruptly cut short when a massive mastiff comes bounding by. It’s an impressive hound with taupe fur, big enough that a Hafling could probably ride it. You’ve only seen a mastiff once before when it was trained as a guard dog for some affluent lady.   You’ve certainly never witnessed one walking itself through the forest without a care in the world.   Yoongi is as bewildered as you are.   But a minute later, an exhausted warrior is lurching forward, holding a leash attached to a broken collar as he tries to catch his breath. Then he stops a meter away, pathetically sobbing and wailing at the top of his lungs. He cries something akin to ‘come back!’.   While Yoongi is prepared to continue walking, much to his dismay, you approach the warrior.   “Is there something wrong?” you ask in spite of already having a good idea.   “M-My hunting dog just ran off! He’s been...been running off for an hour! Oh, Sparks!”   You hum a low note, arms crossed as you look in the distance where the mastiff went. It’s an opportunity, one that’s presented itself and you’ve made a living capitalizing on these opportunities.   “Tell you what.” You turn to him, eyes already glittering. “I’ll catch that little pet of yours at a price.”   He’s easily persuaded and even looks at you as if you’re his last hope. “I’ll give you all the riches I have.”   And that’s how you and Yoongi end up straying off the stone path, ankle deep in the forest floor’s tickling grass while screaming, “Sparks! Sparks, where are you?!”   “Come here, doggy!”   Yoongi gets tired faster than you do. He was reluctant to follow your whims in the first place, but now his voice gets quieter and his arms droop to his side. You don’t blame him — he doesn’t seem to be like someone who enjoys the sweltering sun or buzzing insects trying to nip him.   “Don’t give up, duckling!” you shout as encouragement, trying to boost his morale and his head cranes towards you, the most unimpressed expression etched on his features.   “I don’t get why you volunteered to do this.”   “What? You don’t take me as the altruistic type?” You burst out laughing when his blank face remains the same, clearly not buying your act. “He said he would give us twenty gold pieces. That’s a lot even for something like this.”   It goes silent as you both venture deeper into the forest, twisting through the trees and making sure you don’t trip over any branches. But then he breaks the quietness with a question.    “Why are you trying so hard to collect gold?”   “Because I have a dream,” you murmur softly with a smile, stealing a glance at Yoongi to see him already staring at you intently. “I want to build a big house in the middle of nowhere, preferably a meadow. I’d read books all day, paint, garden. Anything. But it’ll be a place I can call my own. I’d get a wizard to put up a wall of force for me too, so no one could find me. My family won’t be able to find me.”   Yoongi stares at you, wondering why you have such a desire, what led you to it, why you would want to hide from your family. But he supposes it’s nothing particularly strange. After all, he’s here because of his family too.   Maybe it’s something the two of you have in common.   “I haven’t told anyone this before,” you mutter out loud as you come to the realization and then you twirl around to face him, smiling widely. “A secret for a secret. It’s only fair.”   The blonde man scoffs. “I never agreed to that.”   “I only know your name. Or are you purposely trying to keep up the mysterious front? I bet you think it’s attractive, don’t you?” Your eyes mischievously sweep him up and down, and Yoongi finds your gaze oddly invasive. A sly smirk even appears on your lips. “I bet it works for you too, doesn’t it? You like it when girls wonder about you and they like wondering about you too.”    “No.”   “Uh-huh, skirt chaser. Listen, I won’t judge you for your strategies. If they work, then they work.”   If Yoongi could expend the rest of the air in his body for the longest sigh, he would. “For your information, I am an honourable knight from the Order of the Black Sun. Mirla Nistar was my mentor and she’s taught and trained me in the Great Weapon Fighting technique for the past decade. She’s old friends with Sorli Stav and this quest is a favour I’m doing for her.”   Yoongi clears his throat. “I actually come from a rather famous family—”   But you’re not paying any attention.   “Shush!” You’ve found the mastiff. It’s a shadow barely from the distance and before Yoongi can strategize a plan to take it, you sprint after the beast. “Sparks, you motherfucker!”   Yoongi groans and then runs after you. He pulls out his rapier, the sword sharply cutting through the wind, but you turn around with a frown. “Don’t.”   His brows furrow, unsure of what you mean and what your plans are. But then he watches as you hold something discreetly in your bag and murmur something beneath your breath, how you open your other palm and a giant bone appears in your hand. Yoongi pays close attention and realizes it’s not conjured. It’s an illusion.   One that the mastiff fails to detect.   Instead, he sees the delectable bone for what it is and you make an effort to throw it in the area you came from. “Go get it, boy!”    The mastiff leaps through the forest for the illusionary bone, the same direction his owner is waiting.   //   Yoongi swears this is the happiest he’s ever seen you — humming with a skip in your step, throwing your heavy sack of gold pieces up and down your right hand while there’s a permanent cheery smile plastered across your cheeks.    Well this might be one of several times he’s seen you in this state. He remembers you were fairly enthused when he relented and allowed you to follow him in the first place. You also seemed pretty delighted when you scammed him too.   The coins clink as you toss it and Yoongi scoffs, finally tearing his eyes away from you. “I want my half.”   “I know,” you sing-song. “We’re a team now and I’m fair in square, for your information.”   He almost snorts. “Sure.”   “What? You don’t believe me?”   “I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up with all my weapons gone and my own clothing stripped.”   “Hmm, that makes you smart then,” you snicker and the corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls. “We should set up camp before the sun goes down. It’s getting cold.”   He pulls out his rolled map from his pocket and spreads it. “We could, but there's a tavern inn stop about half an hour away,” he says and your ears perk. “I don’t know if you want to—”   Yoongi doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before you’re already running.   He laughs and wonders just how much energy you have. What’s stranger is the fact that energetic people tend to drain him, yet somehow you keep him from being tired like he usually is.    You spin around when you’re half-way down the path. “C’mon, old man! I’ll even treat you!”   Yoongi scoffs, but his lips curl into a smile.   It’s night by the time you arrive — the two of you are exhausted, feet aching with an intense need to rest them. The tavern is placed rather oddly, right on the side of the road by the forest with the candlelights inside glowing on the path. But with the noise from inside, you suppose it’s an unexpectedly good location. After all, there are countless travelers who are always searching for a rest stop like this one.   Unfortunately, your beeline straight to the door is impeded by a drunk.   “Hey, watch it!” you cuss at them when your shoulders collide. “Idiot.”   But as you turn around, you freeze.   The stranger is a Goliath monk who is eight feet tall. You can tell with his gray skin that’s littered with tiny growths akin to pebbles and darker patches. And he towers over you, glowing green eyes peering into your fragile soul. The Goliath reeks of alcohol, unsteady on his feet, but gaze unwavering. You notice the way his hands are wrapped in brass knuckles, his armor clanking.   “You wanna fight?!” his voice bellows out and you immediately hide behind Yoongi.   Yoongi holds in his sigh, mind already cursing you. He’s sure you’re the absolute bane of his existence and one day will get him killed, but for now, he stands tall and his chin lifts.   The Goliath monk isn’t intimidated, yet he turns with narrowed eyes lingering on the pair of you.   Once he’s gone, Yoongi cranes his neck and glares.   “Can you try not getting us killed for once?”   “Hey, it wasn’t my fault! He still bumped into me. Plus, I had it under control.”   “Control, huh?” His brow cocks and he eyes you.   You grin and correct yourself, “You had it under control, oh great knight from the Order of the Red Dragon and my sole protector, Yoongi.”   “It’s Order of the Black Sun,” he exhales and opens the door before you can land yourself in more trouble out here. “And I never agreed to protect you.”   “Yeah, but you still do anyway…”   The tavern is bustling, a good amount of creatures already crowded around tables with their own drinks in hand. They’re all travelers from different kinds of places, having gathered for a night of proper rest with a roof over their heads. You and Yoongi head over to the bar, taking the menu from a busty waitress.   “She your type?” you lean in close, wiggling your brows. Yoongi is unamused and you laugh. “What? Hey, I won’t judge. I understand a man’s needs. Might even help you out if you want me too — I got a way with words.”   He doesn’t think you realize the implication of what you’re saying. But he shoves you away before you can feel the way his face heats unusually.    You’re interrupted by the barkeep, a rough-looking dwarf standing on a wooden stool to reach the counter. “What can I do ya folks for?”   The pair of you finally look over the selection, but are completely overwhelmed. There’s a hundred things and by the third page Yoongi flips, you give up on reading it all. “Surprise us.”   “Sure thin’.” The barkeep goes to grab a glass and selection of bottles, fluidly flipping them back and forth and pouring different substances into it. He juggles them, but without the intent to impress — he’s simply doing his job and it’s even more remarkable.    There’s a bright flash of fire at some point and you gasp, eyes glittering.   Then, the barkeep slaps down a crimson shot in front of Yoongi. “Go ahead.”   Yoongi, on the other hand, is much less excited than you are and skeptically stares at it. “What is it?”   “Tell ya afterwards,” the barkeep answers.   Yet, the man is still carefully assessing the liquid and sloshes it as if he’s worried it’ll be poisonous. You nudge him hard enough that he almost falls off the stool. “C’mon, duckling! Don’t be a wuss.”   Yoongi glares at you, eyes half-lidded and he never breaks eye contact when he brings the glass to his lips, taking the entire shot in one smooth motion. The liquid burns.    As you’re wondering if he makes those bedroom eyes to every female he comes into contact with and if that’s part of his mysterious moves to seduce, he tears away from you and wheezes.   You burst out laughing.   Yoongi feels the hot embrace of hell in his lungs. “W-What is that?!” It’s as if he drank fire itself and he feels warm from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, already breaking a sweat at his hairline.   “Drink’s called a Fireball,” the barkeep grins, happy that the effect worked. “Just like the spell, eh? And you even get that cold resistance for the next thirt’ minutes.”   “Did it taste good?” You lean in, eyes glittering with curiosity.   “I thought I was going to die.”   It’s your turn next and you watch in amazement as the barkeep makes your drink. A whole glass gets slapped in front of you afterwards instead of a shot. It’s clear with opalesque swirls with specks of glowing pink lights. It already reeks of alcohol, more than Yoongi’s did.   “Made with Tiefling fire vodka, dash of pixie sugar dust, teaspoon of honey, an’ two spells. One is faerie fire and the other ain’t named, but ’s an ancient spell of warlock origin.” The spiel sounds like something you’d make up on a whim, but it’s intriguing. “Go ahead, girl.”   Yoongi opens his mouth. “Wai—”   But it’s too late. You’re already drinking. Then the taste explodes into your mouth. Your eyes grow wide at how amazing it is. It tastes like tropical juice, pineapple and raspberries with a kind of smokiness to it that reminds you of the charcoal of a fire or burnt crisp around meat.    It’s amazing and you down the entire thing within seconds.   You slap the glass to the counter in a ‘thump’, a burp leaving your stomach. You’re dazed, mind clouded, unable to think properly even when Yoongi worriedly calls your name thrice.   “Drink’s called Nyssa’s Nectar,” the barkeep slurs with a ginormous grin. You feel strange, the tips of your fingers tingling and your limbs itching. It isn’t just your eyes or your imagination either. “Turns you into the opposite gender. Right down to your clothes!”   Suddenly, your legs expand, your arms grow more muscular, your hair morphs into a shorter form and your dress distorts into pants and a tunic.    “What?!”   “Really?!”   Yoongi is appalled, his jaw dropped. In the meanwhile, you’re giggling in amazement while you check your pants, gasping at what you see inside. “Don’t worry, it wears off in the mornin’,” the barkeep informs and then tottles away to serve the next customers.    “Yes!” you drunkenly laugh and noisily cheer. “This is the best disguise yet!”   “I can’t believe—...hey! Where are you going?!”   You’ve stumbled off your stool to a table of two female elves, leaning over with a sly smirk.    “Heyo, females. Wanna try a potion?” You pull two stoppered bottles out from your bag, clutching it tightly. “They’re philter of love! Get any creature you wanna charm for an hour! Don’t waste an opportunity like this—” Mid-hiccup, you turn around to see tender features and a mop of pale yellow hair reminiscent to a duckling’s fur. “Hey, Yoongi! Wanna buy one? It’ll be five hundred gold!”   “I’m so sorry for her— his behaviour.” He grabs your collar and starts to pull you away while the elves giggle. But Yoongi doesn’t get a hold of you for long. Your passion for selling is big and you scramble out of his grasps to another table of adventurers with bottles overflowing your arms.   It’s the last thing you remember.   //   There’s a deafening bang.   You groan, whining Yoongi’s name and mumbling to sleep in another five minutes. But—   “Get up!” The barkeep yells, loud enough to burst your eardrums. You open your eyes, wincing from the bright sunlight coming through the windows and you lift your head off the wooden table, coming face to face with the dwarf. “Ya got a duel at noon and you got fifteen minutes left. Better get goin’, eh?”   “What?”   You look to your side where Yoongi’s also fallen asleep, unaffected by the noise like he’s a brick and not a human. It takes a good minute for what the barkeep told you to sink in, and then you’re shaking Yoongi frantically.   “What.” he grunts angrily.   “Yoongi, Yoongi. Get up. I challenged someone to a duel at noon and there’s only fifteen minutes left. Oh lord, if you don’t help me, they’re going to come find me and I’m going to die!”   There’s a sigh. Then he raises his head, eyes narrowed. “What?”   Creatures are gathered outside the tavern on the road, most likely patrons from last night. They form a long oval, encircling both you and Yoongi in and not allowing either of you to escape. At the other end stands an eight feet tall Goliath monk — the same one you bumped into last night.    But he doesn’t seem to remember you from that incident.   “That scrawny boy ran like a coward!” The Goliath’s voice booms, rousing on the crowd of bored travelers who haven’t watched a proper match in ages. He’s referring to your male form and then points at Yoongi. “No matter! He was your friend, no? He was with you all night! You will fight in his place!”   The Goliath’s glowing eyes pierce into Yoongi’s and you peek out from right behind him.   You have no idea what you said to make the Goliath so pissed. Usually monks are fairly peaceful and they don’t drink either, but there seems to be plenty of exceptions to the rules at the moment.   “I am very, very sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur in his ear. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you ten folds.”   He turns his head slightly. “I am going to kill you.”   You pat him on the back, ignoring his blatant threat. “Don’t worry, I’ll support you from behind.”   At once, the Goliath monk runs forward and attacks Yoongi with his closed fist. The punch slams straight into his abdomen and you move out of the way, wincing. Yoongi’s air is knocked out of his lungs. He wheezes and the Goliath swings again, missing once and barely grazing Yoongi’s arm on the other.   The crowd cheers like a bunch of maniacs and Yoongi draws his shortsword from his side. He swings twice, slashing against the Goliath’s chest. He surges forward, managing another slice.    But the Goliath looks barely affected, merely pushed back and angered.    Your jaw clenches and you reach out, hand wrapping around Yoongi’s wrist. You yank him back so he’s behind you and his eyes widen at what’s in your other hand. It’s an orb with swirling orange and blazing red — as if fire has been encapsulated into a crystal ball.    It’s an arcane object. A spellcasting focus.   It’s the way arcane spells can channel their power.   And you let go of him in favour of pointing your finger at the Goliath. Suddenly, a bright streak flashes out of your skin towards the eight foot male, blossoming into an explosion of flames with a low roar. There are terrifying screams and shouts, the crowd dispersing and running for their lives before they’re burnt to a crisp.   Yoongi looks away when the light becomes overwhelming and the Goliath shouts in pain.   When the fire disperses, the Goliath is still standing and storms towards you. He lands an attack on your right shoulder, punching you enough to bruise. He frantically throws two more hits but misses both times when his movements are no longer calculated.   Yoongi takes the opportunity to slice his sword twice more on the Goliath. Then you throw another fireball from your fingertips, allowing the flames to bloom and roar towards him.   When the smoke dissipates, the Goliath is on the ground, unconscious.   You grin, clapping your hands at the outcome of the duel in place of the audience that’s disappeared. But Yoongi looks at you, both unamused and impressed.    His brow lifts. “Just a peasant girl?”    You give him a cheesy smile. “With maybe a little magic.”   //   Bogsburrough is a town hidden in a thick swamp to avoid governments and large cities. It’s a dismal place with rotting trees and a certain stench in the air, each of your steps sinking in its mud. But many valued illegal goods are made in this area and traded, such as fatal poisons, meat of endangered species, addictive substances, and many other items treasured by outlaws.   The underground market is also rich with life, a bustle in itself. Bandits dressed in black have set up stalls along with other crooks and fugitives, servicing wanderers and travelers alike.   You and Yoongi are two of these people taking a look around.   “Yoooongi, I’m sorry,” you whisper in his ear for the thousandth time, glued right by his side. He’s been silent so far and you know with that look on his face, he’s had enough of you. “On the bright side, you did a good job during the fight. You looked really cool. I bet you have a line up of mistresses who want to be wedded to you.”   Unfortunately, your persuasion doesn’t seem to have an effect on him anymore. Your buttered words don’t change his stoic state.    After a moment, Yoongi breaks his silent treatment. “Stop trying to get us killed all the time, brat.”   You sulk at him, holding onto his arm. But the cute act doesn’t seem to appeal to him either — or at least he doesn’t show that it does. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose, duckling.”   Still, Yoongi doesn’t shove you off from holding his arm, so you take it as a win.   “What do you want to do here?”   “I have some stuff to sell.”    The magical satchel slung across your body weighs fifteen pounds, but it can hold up to five hundred pounds and is two feet in diameter and four feet deep. There’s been plenty of things you’ve been collecting that you need to get rid of and more ‘potions’ that you would like to sell.   Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You can sell your things anywhere.”   He isn’t wrong. A detour to Bogsburrough is completely unnecessary if the only reason is to sell.   There’s a moment of contemplation and then you concede, deciding to tell him about another secret, or rather… “There’s a rumour.”   The two of you slow down and your eyes meet. “They say the tapestries in the palace are forgeries. Apparently, the previous king pawned them off and the current one couldn’t find them, so they had to be replaced with some replicas. The royal family would be really grateful if they were retrieved and would probably give a very handsome reward. You know what that means, right, Yoongi? I could make my dream come true.”   The struggle of scraping up with a few gold pieces at a time would end.   You could finally have your house built in the middle of nowhere, hidden from civilization, isolated from all people and creatures.    “So you’ve been searching for these tapestries to return them to the royal family?” he asks.   “Yep, and I think it might be in Bogsburrough.”   Without warning, the two of you are interrupted by a human talismonger dressed in white robes. “What a beautiful couple! I see much compatibility and fortune! I bet you’re looking to have children soon, aren’t you—”   You’re flustered, your entire brain delayed as your mouth slowly opens.    But Yoongi is much calmer. “No—”   The talismonger doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “We have charms to increase fertility and charms for impotence. Tell you what? I’ll give it to you for five silver pieces!” He spreads his entire hand in front of your face and Yoongi’s, overwhelming you with the sheer volume of his voice.   “That’s quite alright—”   “Okay, okay!” Creatures passing turn their heads at the ruckus. “An impotence charm for four silver pieces!”   At this point, you’re getting irritated. “We don’t need it!” you shout. “My husband does not have issues with impotence!”   The two of you push past the obnoxious man, but then he loudly haggles for the entire market to hear— “FINE! Okay, sir! I’ll sell you the charm to fix your impotence for half price!”   Both you and Yoongi freeze in your steps. Your necks crane around. Your intimidating glares bore into his face, Yoongi’s hands gripping his sword, and your swirling orb of fire is clutched in your hand. He squeals in fear.    No one gets to cheat a cheat.   “Terrible technique,” you mutter when you’ve made your way down the market. “He’s supposed to convince and persuade them, not try to embarrass the customers. Horrible business man.”   The corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls and he chuckles. “Yeah? Well, you’re not any better.”   “Hey, I’m so much better! I do business properly.”   “You lie about the product.”   “It’s called a business technique.”   You look around the stalls and what’s for purchase. But once you’ve made it to the end of the market, there are no tapestries in sight. Even when you ask around, no one has any clue what you’re talking about and you know you’ve reached another dead end.   “What’s your plan now?” Yoongi asks.   “I don’t want the entire trip here to be a waste, so I’ll set up and sell some stuff.” You sigh. “Well, this place was a shot in the dark anyways. It was worth a try. At least I can cross it off my list. Anyway, give me an hour and I’ll be done. You can walk around or do whatever it is that you do.”   Yoongi nods. In the meanwhile, you pull out a rug from your bag and dump out golden chalices and wondrous items you’ve probably stolen, and begin advertising them at outrageous prices to creatures passing by. He lets you be as you’re happily scamming and walks off with a tiny smile.    “Excuse me,” he approaches a human Ranger standing by and the stranger lifts his head with suspicious eyes narrowed in on him. Yoongi had a few ideas on how to make his time worthwhile here too.   “Yes?”   “Do you know anything about the North Dragon?”   “The North Dragon?” The Ranger shakes his head. “Sorry. Don’t. But you can probably ask Raithe. He knows a thing or two about creatures around.”   The Ranger indicates a man in a black cloak sitting on a stool and staring at bystanders. Yoongi thanks him and approaches the so-called Raithe. “Excuse me.” The man looks up, revealing beady eyes and a long, red beard. “Do you know anything about the North Dragon?”   The corner of the man’s mouth curls. “Who may you be?”   “I’m a traveler on a quest,” Yoongi says vaguely, knowing better than to pass information about himself around or go into too much detail needlessly. Anyone could use anything against him.   Raithe hums. “I know that there’s a dragon in Stoughsby Peaks. That it’s fiercely loyal. But I’m afraid any more information will have to come at a price.”   He pulls out a gold coin from his pocket. “Will this be enough of a price?”   “That’s more like it, young man. Do you have a map?” The greedy man smiles, snatching the payment before Yoongi pulls out his crinkled map you always make fun of. Once spread, Raithe points to a patch of grass on it in the middle of the forest that’s between this place and Rutherglen. “Here. A wise wizard can tell you all that you seek to know about the North Dragon, but he is not easy to find and he doesn’t allow just any guests inside his home.”   “How do I find him then?”   “You keep walking.”   That’s all the man is willing to say and Yoongi keeps it in mind as he marks the map.   At the same time, you’re having much success with your business.   “Thanks for coming!” After getting rid of your chalices and your eyes of eagle, your sack of gold has become heavier and heavier in your pocket. You’ve managed to sell two of your stoppered bottles too, passing them on as potions of heroism when really it’s just been dyed blue and the bubbles are from the expired milk you had in them. “Get your potions of heroism! Get your potions!”   You can’t wait to see the look on Yoongi’s face when you brag about how much you’ve made.   “It’s a blessed spell! Gain more health before you go charging into battle! Great for adventurers and travelers who love exploring the region!”    Your eyes light when a creature comes up to your rug. He’s five feet eight with reddish skin and a purple head of hair. A sulfurous odor radiates from him, but you recognize the horns, prehensile tails, and pointed teeth for him being a Tiefling and his daggers for being a rogue.    “Hello sir, would you like one? It’s a rare potion you won’t find anywhere else! Take the chance while you still can!”   “How much?”   “Five gold pieces.”   You hold in your cackle when he passes the gold to you without even bargaining. But blood drains from your face when he flicks off the cork and prepares to chug it. “Wait! Are you going to take it right now?”   “If it’s good, I’ll buy the rest,” the Tiefling rogue states, solid orbs of silver for eyes looking back at you. And with that, he chugs it.   You hitch your breath. Your teeth grit.   After a moment, the Tiefling rogue spits the potion out. His expression twists into horror, another strange odor leaving his mouth that smells like rotten eggs left in the Summer sun.   “What is that?!”   “Uh….it’s…..it’s…...a potion….of heroism?”   He points at you, shouting, “Fraud!”   “I prefer Charlatan!” you scream and jump back before his dagger can hit you.   Across the market, Yoongi hears the commotion. There are creatures moving away and murmuring, not wanting to get involved, and his blood runs cold when he realizes you’re on the other side where the clamour is.    Immediately, he rushes through the crowd, but then his shoulder collides with another.   “Min Yoongi?”   A cold voice stops him.   “Yorril.” The slender Elf is the same height as Yoongi is, long blonde hair that’s half-tied up and reaches to his ribs. His piercing green eyes are set within their sockets, having seen his enemies coiling their bodies to his shoes. He has a dignified aura that’s unfriendly as always.   But Yoongi supposes that it’s only natural. The Belxiron faction has always had an air of superiority, especially over the Min faction and it has permanently been a source of strife.   “What a pleasant surprise,” Yorril utters in Elvish. “I thought you ran away like a coward.”   “Cowards are the ones who stand behind their family’s back to protect themselves,” Yoongi answers in a hiss. “If being a coward is making something out of yourself rather than taking the status given to you at birth, then you are worthless.”   The elf’s jaw clenches as he pulls his trident to his side. “Always so righteous, Min. Always have to have the last word. But it is time I give your mother a real reason to mourn—”   On the other side of the market, the Tiefling strikes you with his dagger against your left forearm. It’s enough to skim against your skin and leave a mark, but not enough to bleed.   You hold your orb within your hand and hurl three rays of fire towards him. The first one barely hits him when he dodges, but the second and third make him cry out in agony as he’s burnt.   “You bitch!”   “That’s rude!” You’re about to persuade him to give it up, but it’s useless when he runs towards you again with newfound wrath.   In the meanwhile, the Elf uses his trident and attacks, piercing Yoongi in his abdomen. The weapon digs into his leather clothing, never into his skin, but then light twirls through the trident and he feels as if lightning has shocked through his system.    Yorril smirks. Yoongi pulls out his rapier but misses when he swings. “Going down so easy, Min? I expected better from someone who ran off to become a knight for the Order of the Black Sun.”   Yoongi grits his teeth and swings again. This time, Yorril is pushed back, sliced in his shoulder and Yoongi surges forward once more. Then, he’s dashing to the other side of the market.   There’s a shout of his name behind him, but it doesn’t matter.   He breathes a sigh of relief when you come into view. Visibly intact and unharmed. “What happened?” Yoongi hyperventilates from running, eyes wide and searching your face.   You muster a smile, afraid of his scolding. “Just...you know….the usual workplace risks.”   The Tiefling shouts and runs forth with his dagger. He manages to nick your dress and collarbone with his blade this time, making you hiss out as blood soaks through. Yoongi retaliates in an instant, swinging at him with his rapier and he stumbles back.   “Min!” There’s a shout of his name and the angered Elf comes out of the crowd silently observing and gasping. “I’m not done with you!”   Your back presses against Yoongi’s as you both hold onto your weapons. “You know this guy?!”   “He’s an enemy of my family,” he murmurs as he faces the Tiefling rogue and you face the Elf.   “What kind of family do you have?!” You throw an evocation spell forward and a line of roaring flames thirty feet long and five feet wide emanates from you towards the stranger. The crowd disperses quickly, shuffling back before they’re hit by the fire.   Unfortunately, the Elf is dexterous and manages to move back, only getting hit by half of the fire.   “It’s complicated,” Yoongi says.   “Get out of the way,” Yorril grunts in Elvish and attacks you with his trident, charging forth to spear you. He hits against the arm you bring out to shield your face away and as it digs into your flesh before you force it away.   Yoongi hears your cry and turns around to strike him.   At the same time, the Tiefling rogue fails to drive his dagger into Yoongi’s stomach.   Your grasps tighten on your orb and you lob three more scorching rays of fire in your hands towards your enemies. One of them hits the Tiefling and he yells in pain before falling over, unconscious. Two of them are fired towards the Elf, one that misses and the other that gets him straight in his face.   He’s burnt, not too badly that he’s become disfigured but enough that it hurts.   “Damn you, whore! Stay where you belong!” Yorril swings at you, piercing you in your stomach and leaving a bleeding gash in its place that you press with your other hand to keep blood from pouring.   “It’s going to have to take more than that,” you wheeze in Elvish to him and it serves to aggravate him further.   Yoongi is horrified, paler than he was before and he shouts deep from his lungs. He swings at Yorril, slicing him in his back and your arm lifts. A blinding streak flares from your pointing finger and blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flame. The Elf’s eyes are rounded in terror and he howls from deep in his stomach as he’s burnt. The fire spreads through the room, igniting the wooden stalls and rugs.   Brought to his knees, Yoongi slices Yorril once more with his rapier.   The Elf uses the remainder of his strength to hit Yoongi once more and manages to scrape at his knees before Yoongi strikes twice and the latter male falls over, also unconscious.   It goes silent except for the sound of the two of you catching your breaths.   Then you and Yoongi turn to each other.   Compared to Yoongi who’s still firmly on his feet, you’re worse for wear. You’re bleeding in numerous places, nicked at your jaw and neck. But the corners of your mouth curls and you slowly reach into your pocket. You hold out a heavy sack of gold, one that isn’t your own. “L-Look what I got.” Your eyes flicker to the unconscious Tiefling who’ll eventually wake up wounded and broke.   Yoongi scoffs with a tiny smile. “This is why so many people want to kill you.”   “You have your fair share of enemies too, evidently,” you breathe out. “And it’s not so easy for me to die, y’know.”   He comes over to shoulder you, all traces of mischief gone. “Are you okay?”   “Of course I’m okay.” You muster a tender yet tired smile, leaning your weight on him. “It’s no big deal. Don’t you know….who I….am?”   But then your eyes begin to droop and Yoongi opens his arms, catching your slumping body. You’re snoring, exhausted from the fight and he puts you on his back, a tiny smile etched on his features.   There’s chaos around you both, people returning to their stalls to see that it’s been burnt down to a crisp and wailing at the loss, other sly creatures trying to steal what they can in the chaotic situation and others that return to their stations like nothing happened at all.   A fight in Bogsburrough might not be uncommon, but Yoongi doesn’t dwell.   He carries you and the two of you fade away as quick as you came, continuing on your journey.   //   After being bandaged, taking a long rest and downing a bunch of healing potions, you’re back in tip-top shape again. Your initial plan was to just have Yoongi protect you until you made it to Bogsburrough — a plan you never told him about — but with no other idea of what to do or where to go next, you find yourself continuing with him on his quest.    Why not, right?   If he defeats that dragon, you can reap the benefits and get that amazing reward. It’s certainly better than wandering on your own and having nothing to do. There’s no other reason than that.    No other reason………………………...   “So we’re supposed to just...keep walking?” you ask skeptically after wandering aimlessly for what seems to be an hour around this meadow.   “That’s what he said.”   “What if this is a trap.”   “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.”   It’s only fair that after Yoongi took your detour, you take his. But you’re unsure what this nonsense about a wizard is. There’s nothing here, but grass and flowers—   Your forehead smacks into a wall.   You stumble back, rubbing at the area while cursing. But there’s nothing there. Your brows furrow along with Yoongi’s and you put your hand out, feeling the invisible barrier placed there.   “It’s a wall of force!” You grin, excited that your efforts weren’t wasted after all.   “How do we get rid of it?”   “We blast it!” Before he can protest and get some time to think things through, you grab your orb that allows you to channel your power and you hurl a fireball at it. The flames howl, blossoming an explosion and slamming into the barrier.   The barrier ripples, revealing its spherical shape — but it doesn’t shatter or open a hole.   You huff out in frustration.   Yoongi steps forward. “Wait.”   But you throw another fireball at it, fiercer and with more vigor. This time, it works and the barrier splits with a tiny opening, enough for you and Yoongi to push yourselves through.   You grin at his bewildered expression. Of course he should be impressed with your abilities. You might not be as capable or strong as he is, but your magic often comes in handy like now. “It’s sorcerer magic.”   “Yeah, well, I think we’ve already long established you aren’t a normal peasant girl.”   “Nope. I’m not.”   There’s a house in the middle of the meadow, placed on a tiny hill — one that was not visible outside of the invisible wall of force. Built with white stones and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly symmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the manor has several floors. More importantly, you swear you see the curtains shift on the left.   The two of you step up on the wooden porch, facing the mahogany double doors.   “Do we just….knock?”   “I guess.” Yoongi’s fist raps against the surface while you brace yourself for an attack.    No one who wants to hide warmly welcomes unexpected guests.    Inside, in a dusty library, the male who’s levitating abruptly shuts his book at the sound. The cover is bright green, labeled ‘Halfling Histories’ and it slides back onto the empty slot of a nearby bookshelf as his small feet touch the ground once more. The sound of scattering toes on floorboards echo as he sprints to the front door.   The door swings open.   You hitch your breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens.   Instead, you see nothing. Not until you and Yoongi collectively drop your heads to discover a three feet tall Halfling in a silk, blue robe with rounded glasses perched on his nose. He is reminiscent of a child with his full, rosy cheeks, brightened eyes and stubby stature.    The Halfling gives a dimpled smile and widens the door.   “Welcome! Oh my goodness, I haven’t had guests in so long! Come in, come in!”   The pair of you exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes your breath — cozy mahogany and high ceilings, mementos on a shelf near the winding staircase with a magical pull to them. The owner of this house has made it their own. You can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury.   You gander around wordlessly.    Whoever this wizard is, he’s literally living your dream.    Out in the middle of nowhere. A place of his own. Hidden from the rest of humanity. It’s your aspiration in the flesh.   “My name is Namjoon,” the Halfling says as his dimples crease deeper, “and I am a servant to the lord of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?”   “I am Min Yoongi, in search of a Great wizard said to have lived here.”   “Ah, it is very nice to meet you. I’m afraid the lord is asleep upstairs. He doesn’t like to be awoken, so I fear it may be several hours until he can entertain you,” he informs and you look at Yoongi with uncertainty. The Halfling follows your movement and smiles. “And may I ask who you are, milady?”   “I am merely a servant girl accompanying this man as a way to repay a favour.” You lower your head, never once stating your own name.   “I see.” Namjoon smiles. “Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for my lord?”   “There’s just something we want to ask,” you say quickly, stepping forward before Yoongi can spill the whole truth. “It’s about a magical item. One we’re willing to sell to him.”   Namjoon hums. “Alright. I’ll let my lord know as soon as he wakes up. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!”   But suddenly, Yoongi feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and you turn to him.   “Is everything okay?”   Yoongi looks at you and the way your brows scrunch together. But doesn’t answer. He tries to fight it off.    And he fails.   Yoongi feels his thoughts being pulled, untangled, exploited and read.   “Y/N—”   The corner of the Namjoon’s mouth curls in genuine amusement. He looks between you and Yoongi curiously as if he knows something you don’t. Then your neck whips to the side, catching him staring at you with that smile like he knows who you are.   Before you can ask him what he just did, Namjoon opens his palm. In one split second, the wooden staff you didn’t notice leaning against the grandfather clock flies into his hands. The surrounding flames are snuffed out, drawing the three of you into darkness except for the dim evening light piercing through the glass windows. Your shadows lay across the walls.   Namjoon looks at Yoongi and an overwhelming gust of wind pulls him back.   Yoongi shouts his name, but it’s choked inside his throat. Namjoon’s casted hold person, causing him to be frozen, paralyzed against the wall.   “Yoongi!” Your eyes are wide, connected with his. You rush over, but the path is interrupted by a growing low noise and three glowing darts that strike you at once. They pummel into your body before dispersing as quick as they appeared. A kind of agony immediately shoots up your spine and causes a cry to tear from your throat.   You turn yourself to Namjoon — the wizard you’ve been searching for.   “What do you want from us?!”   “The truth,” the halfling utters while you grip your glass orb in your hand that swirls colours of red and orange. From nothing but the magic that runs through your blood, you conjure three rays of fire and hurl them at him. One misses, but the other two burns him enough to hear his sharp inhale.   Namjoon raises his arms, his curled staff lifted with the motion and you feel a necromantic energy washes over you. The spell he casts drains moisture from you, making your skin dry, your lips chapped, your lungs shrivel. You double over, wheezing as your throat becomes parched. But it’s far from over.   You shout from deep within your stomach, hearing the strained call of your name behind you from your companion and a bright flash streaks from your finger, blossoming in a rumble of fire.   But Namjoon counterspells it without even blinking. He snuffs out the flames before it can reach him.   His feet shift and a blast of cold air erupts from his hands. It coils towards you, itching towards your body before enveloping you in frost. It nips against your skin, cracking your lips further.   This is it. This is how you die. You’ve always envisioned succumbing to fire, brought down by the power inside of yourself — the greatest devastation and irony of all. You never imagined yourself to fall in the home of an unknown wizard for unknown reasons….   But as you turn your head to gaze at Yoongi once more, your eyes meeting his tender ones full of unadulterated fear and anguish, there’s a surge from within. It screams, causing you to stand straighter, for your feet to root into the floorboards. It’s instincts —   And it tells you that you can’t leave him behind.   Instantaneously, a fire from within you blazes. A blinding light slices through the room as you’re magically wreathed in swirling flames. It’s overwhelming, pouring from the tips of your fingers and toes, seeping out of your pores without control. A grating orange and flaring crimson. It’s ugly, the way your eyes glow like hot coals, how you feel like your skin is melting off your bones.   The fire from within your blood is restless. Vengeful.   You can’t see the way Yoongi forces himself to look at you past the bright flare — you don’t know he’s in awe, that he finds it absolutely magnificent.    Before you can barrel forward, the Hafling drops his staff.   His hands lift, surrendering, as a dimpled grin spreads into his cheeks.   “I knew it! I knew it! You’re a phoenix sorcerer!”   Somewhere in Yoongi’s mind, those words are familiar. He’s read them somewhere before. But the details are murky. He isn’t sure. He simply knows there’s one infamous phoenix sorcerer family in existence.   The fire disperses as Yoongi’s let go from his binds, no longer pinned to the wall.   “You….” You’re panting, out of your mind. “You did all that to prove a theory?!”    “Well, I had a feeling you wouldn’t be honest with me if I asked.”   “You fucking crazy bastard!”   Namjoon laughs and then suddenly lowers himself to one knee, height no higher than your own knee. He blinks up at you with his brightened irises. “Will you marry me, Miss? Our powers combined would make for the best offsprings.”   Your eye twitches. “You’re a piece of shit.”   //   The library is old and dusty, but the winding bookcases that reach the ceiling tells him there’s an endless amount of knowledge stowed away between these pages of parchment. It is larger than any library he has known at home in his faction or in the castles he’s been stationed at. These books radiate types of magic, each enchanted with different spells he will never know the names of.   Seated at the round table, his trance is shattered without warning when there’s the ear-piercing noise of a stool scraping against the floorboard. If Yoongi didn’t know any better, he would think it was his imagination but then the short Hafling hops up on the stool to be seen and spreads the map across the wooden surface.   “You wanted to know about the Dragon of the North, yes?”   Yoongi nods in silence and he studies the map. Never has he seen something so extensive and detailed, all towns and rivers labeled with different kinds of terrain shown on the parchment. There are numerous roads winding on the paper, a scale for size he has no doubt is accurate.   “Can I copy this map?”   “You can just take it.” Namjoon grins. “I have plenty, don’t worry. I have some ancient dragon books too if you’d like.”   Yoongi nods again and the Hafling bounces off his stool and tottles over to one of his bookcases. He climbs the wooden ladder but when that can’t even grab the spine of the large book he’s reaching for, he whirls his finger and it slides out for him, swooping onto the table.    There’s a pile of dust that flies when Yoongi opens it, but he brushes it away and tries to read about the myths spoken about the North Dragon and Stoughsby Peaks.   “It seems like this dragon isn’t as dangerous as it seems,” Namjoon comments as he pushes up his circular spectacles. “And it’s been hidden for quite a while.”   “It kidnapped a girl.” Yoongi places the book down, telling him in case he can offer anything insightful. “We’re on a quest to bring her back at any costs.”   But Namjoon merely hums and his eyes twinkle. “Maybe it did it for a reason.”   In spite of this place behind a holder of knowledge, there isn’t much on the North Dragon aside from folktales and rumours of travelers who witnessed the creature and survived the encounter. But Yoongi makes sure to read every word, knowing that anything could be helpful.    Though after a while, the sentences dull and Yoongi finds himself curious about something else.   “Do you possibly have any books on phoenixes?”   The Halfling wizard smiles. “I’ll happily lend you some. Perhaps one specifically on magic, human and phoenixes?”   //   You’re taking a long rest in one of the countless bedrooms when Yoongi enters.   But despite how soft the mattress is and how warm the sheets are, different from the many nights spent on the forest floor or in dodgy inns, you aren’t comfortable in the least bit.   “We need to get the fuck out of here, Yoongi,” you say immediately when the door opens and it’s duckling hair that you see. “I need to get out of here. He’s psychotic.”   He smiles gently and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, allowing it to dip underneath his weight. “We’ll leave when you can stand up again.”   “You can just carry me.”   “And risk breaking my back? I almost did last time and you still owe me.”   You pout, knowing full well he’s exaggerating. “I’m not that heavy.”   It goes quiet for a moment as if he has something to say and doesn’t know how to broach the topic which is unlike him. “Hey, Y/N.”   “What? And ew, don’t call me like that.” Your nose scrunches, making fun of him to lighten the mood he’s created.   Yoongi grins. “Like what?”   “Like I’m dying. Y/N,” you lovingly whisper, mocking him and causing him to scoff lightly. “Makes me feel like I’m your bedridden wife.”   “Well, at the rate we’re going at,” he mutters and you’re not sure what he means — if you’ll end up bedridden or his wife or both. But you can’t dwell on it when he continues, “I never finished telling you about my family.”   “Oh yeah.” You lean back against the headboard. “And that guy who wanted to kill us at the market?”   Yoongi nods. “I’m the youngest son of the Min house, a faction in Srinas.” It’s the capital of Pegan, the largest country bordering this one. “The region is broken up into factions and a house owns each of them.”   “And I’m guessing that Elf was from another faction?”   He nods again. “I didn’t expect to see him there.”   “Why did he want to fight you?”   “Our houses are enemies,” he explains with a sigh. “No matter where I go, as long as I’m a Min, there will be preexisting enemies. The factions are different from how you’d imagine them.”   It’s interesting, intriguing to hear. You aren’t someone who cares about the troubles of another, but you’ve traveled with Yoongi for so long that a part of you has always longed to know more about him, about his background, where he came from, what led him here. “What do you mean?”   “There was constant backstabbing and betrayal. Your friend one day would be your enemy the next. Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi brushes it off with a stoic expression. “I got tired one day and decided to leave.”   You know he left to join the Order of the Black Sun where he trained to become a knight. “And you haven’t looked back since,” you finish.    The silence confirms your guess.   It feels like you’re filling in the gaps of your knowledge about Yoongi, that you’re finally coming to understand the man in front of you. But you wonder why he’s telling you when he’s been so private. Why he’s voluntary letting you in his secrets without you needing to pry or whine. Perhaps he wants to know about you, but is taking the first step for you to know him.    So you indulge him, taking the initiative of what you assume he’s seeking without him needing to ask. “Mine’s not any different. Well, less….backstabbing, but it’s true. I’m a phoenix sorcerer and so is the rest of my family.”   You trust him. You trust Min Yoongi.   “My great, great grandfather saved a phoenix and a shard of its power runs through my bloodline. My power draws from an immortal flame.” It’s a mixed blessing. Like the creature indebted to your ancestor, you can conjure its fiery energy and be able to cheat death itself.    But it comes at a cost.   The fire within you bristles. Always demanding to be unleashed. You find yourself thoughtlessly feeding fires, hearing them call out to you, being unable to bear them sputtering out.   You uncurl your fingers and a flame ignites in your palm. Yoongi watches it dance then his eyes flicker to your face, soaking it how the fire glows against your cheeks, warming your features.    “People like me make others nervous. Our magic is volatile. It can be dangerous and we have a reputation for reckless behaviour. The stereotype isn’t untrue though. Most phoenix sorcerers think the essence of the phoenix can save them, but we aren’t necessarily protected from fire. We’re as vulnerable as the next creature, the next human. All we can really do is use our powers to pull ourselves from the brink of death. But most often than not, the reliance on our destructive magic is what put us there in the first place.”   You shut your eyes. The fire smothers out.   “My family has tried their hardest to remove themselves from such labels and molds. Each generation is put through strict teaching and training since the moment each person is born. But my family still think of themselves as superior. They were suffocating.”   Yoongi connects the dots. “So you left.”   “It wasn’t a life that I wanted to lead, so three years ago, I learned how to forge fake documentation and I ran away.” For the longest time, your greatest fear was being deported. It was being brought back to that house that was more concerned about status and upholding the bloodline than your own wishes. Where your freedom was suppressed.   You release your breath. The corner of your mouth pulls.   “I’m sure if you turned me into officials, you’d get yourself a handsome reward, Yoongi.”   Yet, Yoongi doesn’t give into your banter or playfulness. He remains solemn and sincere. “I have no plans in doing so.”   The two of you gaze at one another.   He doesn’t seem affected whatsoever by this new information, about the secrets you’ve held close to yourself. The both of you come from rich and dark histories, but you’ve never encountered someone who wasn’t at least a bit surprised.   But the way he looks at you is familiar. As if you don’t scare him.   “Get some rest, Y/N,” he says as he finally stands, turning towards the door.   “Yoongi,” you call his name tenderly before he can leave. The man pauses and your teary eyes trace his backside. “Thank you.”   //   The second you feel well enough, you get the fuck away from Namjoon. You sprint faster than you ever did before. He waves goodbye enthusiastically, saying that the offer of marriage still stands indefinitely — clearly, the Halfling wizard finds you sorcery magic quite intriguing and even bombards you with questions until the last moment — but you don’t entertain him.    You run for the hills without looking back. And finally, the two of you make it to Rutherglen.   It’s built on the bottom of a snowy thicket with a woodland forest nearby, the terrain rocky presumably from the mountains seen vaguely through the clouds. The village itself is plain but humble. With its redwood rooftops and maple wood walls, Rutherglen carries an inviting atmosphere. Though right now, there seems to be a certain commotion, lanterns strung through shops, vibrant posters set against brick walls, children wearing masks running through the streets and other adults preparing stalls that line the streets.   “Is there something special going on today?”   “Why, tonight is the Festival of Champions!” A petite woman says as she passes by, holding a ribboned basket of bread and biscuits, and catching wind of your question to Yoongi. “You must be travelers! How exciting and great timing, really.”   “What’s the Festival of Champions?” Yoongi asks, having never heard of such a thing.   “A long time ago, a powerful demon was driven up from this town and now we celebrate that day that we freed! The festival only happens once a year and it’s spectacular, much needed as well considering how on edge everyone’s been from those rumours of a dragon up north.”   “What?”   “Anyhow, no time like the present to enjoy yourselves!” She grins. “Enjoy yourselves, travelers!”   With the short-sightedness of these villagers, it’s no wonder they run into predicaments like demons and dragons attacking them.   “I don’t think I can do it.” There are two young girls chatting on the street and as you pass, your ears perk, picking up their exchange. “What if he rejects me, Lirla?”   “He wouldn’t. You have to confess!” At that, you turn your head, watching as the girl in the plum dress grabs the hands of her friend with a brightened, innocent smile. “You’ve been waiting for this day for months and you know what they say, if you do it tonight during the fireworks, you’ll have luck on your side.”   “I don’t know…..”   Such fickle emotions such as love, nervousness in wanting to declare one’s feelings, uncertainty of how the other person will respond — you never got to experience such nonsense.    But you can’t help but feel envious of them. You were never allowed to have such freedoms such as love.   Yoongi shifts, having overheard the conversation as well and noticing how silent you suddenly are. “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You turn to look at him, but in doing so, your focus gets captured elsewhere. “Yoongi!”   It’s a red and white striped circus tent pitched in the town’s center. A six feet tall Fighter in a ripped tank top struts in a chalk ring while flexing his biceps and a Halfling wearing a top hat stands on a soap box. For being a fraction of a human’s normal size, his voice is deafening—   “Test your fortitude! Test your steel strength! Kourteous the Mighty challenges you to the Terror of the Rings! Best out of three clinches wins!”   “Yoongi, Yoongi! Go!” You push him forward with a ginormous grin.   His tender features twist is mortification. “What? You want me to fight him?!”   “All you have to do is push him out of that ring and we get prizes. C’mon! Don’t be scared!”   With one last shove, Yoongi stumbles forward and the Halfling grins. “Ah! Is there a new challenger?!” Yoongi turns around, glaring daggers into your soul and you give a sheepish smile.   The blonde knight sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”   A crowd soon gathers to watch and Yoongi joins the circle, knees bent and hands open. Folks cheer on the Fighter and you suppose it’s fair considering Yoongi’s shorter stature and smaller body. No one expects him to win.   But you know him — you know he’s carried you on his back, that he’s fought countless creatures, that he’s protected you in several instances.   Yoongi is strong. Even when he doesn’t look like it.   “Round one!” The Halfling slams a wooden rod into a bell, making it ring loudly. “Fight!”   At once, the Fighter makes a big show. He flexes his muscles, brushes his feet against the dirt and shouts from within his belly.    It makes the crowd cheer.   The Fighter charges Yoongi, but he keeps a low stance and dodges easily. The taller male swoops past, nearly running out the chalk circle with his sheer speed, but stops right on his toes. It causes the whole pack of creatures around to gasp in delight, put in anticipation.   The Fighter turns around with a growl and runs to grab Yoongi. But this time as he swiftly ducks, Yoongi steals the opportunity and shoves the larger male out, centering his strength on the man’s abdomen.    The Halfling throws his arms out dramatically. “One to zero!”   They meet each other in the circle again and he switches to an offensive strategy. The Fighter is caught off guard with Yoongi’s strength with their hands meet each other and their arms strain, trying to push the other out.    Yoongi is the epitome of stability.   He pushes him and the Fighter stumbles out while trying to keep balance.   “Two to zero!”   It’s unexpected and the crowd is going absolutely crazy. They’re hooting and hollering like it’s the middle of a tavern on a drunken night of celebration, and you feel your chest blossom with pride. “I know him!” you shout above the uproar to the Elf next to you. “He’s my partner!”   During the last round, Yoongi obliterates it.    He wins so hard that the Fighter is stunned and the Halfling is speechless. “C-Congratulations!”   Immediately, you run to Yoongi. He catches you in his arms while your own loop around his neck. You giggle into his shoulders and he grins, squeezing you.   It’s a moment that you will come to cherish.   You end up asking if he can do another round once the Halfling gives you the prize money of seven silver pieces. But he nearly cries and begs you both to leave instead.   “I knew you could do it!” You’re tossing the sack of silver up and down in your hand, feeling its weight and listening to the clank as you do so. It’s technically Yoongi’s but he said you could have it and you didn’t hesitate to accept the gift.   “You pushed me in before you even understood what the game was.”   “But I believed in you anyway,” you laugh.   The both of you continue on your way while you’re humming with a light skip in your step. When you find Yoongi looking at you, you flash a bright grin at him and he scoffs. You’re starting to like this place. But you don’t make it far before something else captures your attention.   This time though, it’s not a circus game or creatures trying to sell you something.   You’re enraptured by a fifteen-foot statue of a woman unmarred by time. There are steady streams of seemingly clear water traveling down the woman’s eyes, but leaving no erosion there. But next to her are the shattered remains of another smaller stone statue. The feet of this smaller statue remains affixed to the ground while the rest are scattered around. It looks close enough that the body may have once held the woman’s outstretched hand.    You’re close enough that you can read the silver plate of the statue. It says ‘Missing Daughter’.   The statue reminds you of your mother — and you wonder passingly if any members of your family have tried employing others to find you, much like Yoongi has been sent to find Mina Stav. Or maybe they haven’t. Maybe they think your family thinks you’re dead...   “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You turn away from the statue outside the sanctuary. “Where’s this person again?”   Half-across Rutherglen, you and Yoongi knock on a cottage door while unsure of yourselves. It's a single floor modest home, not at all extravagant like you expected it to be. Sorli Stav, the woman who commissioned you and Yoongi on this quest, reeked of wasteful luxury after all. You expect her sister to be the same or at least have some level of similarity.   “Are you sure this is her?”   “I’m sure,” he says in spite of his own skepticism.   The door opens a moment later and on the other side is a thin lady with long, stringy hair and a flowy skirt. “Hi, how can I help you? Are you the workers from Johnson? I told him I’d be right down for the festival. What an impatient man, he is. Really—”   “No, ma’am,” Yoongi politely interrupts. “Actually, we were told you could help us. Are you Ashal Stav?”   “I am.” Her sparse brows furrow. Then as if she suddenly recalls, her entire face lights up. “Are you those heroes looking to rescue my niece?! Come in, come in.”   You’re guided into the cluttered home with an open living space, a kitchen and dining room. It looks like there’s only three separate rooms after that. “I’m so sorry for the mess.”   “It’s quite alright,” you muster a smile as your eyes stray to the dirty stains on the wall by the bookshelf.   “Oh, I should’ve really cleaned better but the festival was here and I didn’t have much time.” The older woman is rushing about, collecting her clothes off the floor to throw into another corner and clearing the table of rotting food by pushing it aside. “My younger sister sent me a letter telling me you were coming. Although she informed me it would be a young fighter and a much...bigger barbarian.” She eyes you curiously like she didn’t expect a peasant girl.   You smile as your eyes glitter. “I replaced him due to some unforeseen circumstances.”   “Well, thank you for your service then.” She kicks some books on the ground underneath a table between the armchairs. “I really hope you can save my niece. Mina’s a wonderful girl really. A bit outspoken and stubborn, but very pleasant.”   “Actually, we were told you could help us,” Yoongi says. “You have information about this dragon?”   “Information, dear? No, no. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the North dragon whatsoever. I only know you will be in grave, grave danger.”   The pair of you exchange expressions.   “You can feel free to stay here for as long as you’d like,” she huffs while catching her breath from the impromptu cleaning session. “I make one mean apple pie. You two look like you’re cold too! Rutherglen is practically winter all year round, so feel free to take any coats in the closet you’d like. And oh! Enjoy tonight’s festival as well!”   You and Yoongi don’t know what to say, simply holding in your groan. And when you come into the room she’s offered you, you find out that you’ll have to share a bed meant for one.   //   “That could’ve gone a lot better.”    You realize you should’ve bargained for a better reward. That woman prepared nothing for the two of you — there’s virtually nothing to go on, no help, no information. If not for Yoongi seeking out Namjoon, you wouldn’t even know how to get to that mountain. Still, it’s a death sentence.   But Yoongi merely hums, stoic and unaffected.   “So you’re really just going to march up that mountain?”   “I suppose,” he says.   You had no plans in fighting a dragon — you still don’t. But the thought of Yoongi going there alone while you wait here in this town makes you unsettled. Your stomach turns and you feel nauseous. In a split second, you can imagine him never returning. You can envision waiting for agonizing weeks until you venture up there yourself and die in the frozen wasteland before your body is covered in snow never to be found again or at the mercy of a dragon’s fire breath.   Either way, the outcome won’t be good for you or him.   “Yoongi—”   “Fire! Fire!”   There is pandemonium as people shriek, scrambling out of the Market District. Both of your heads lift, catching the rising smoke that curls in the sky and turns it gray. It’s growing fast and you exchange expressions before hurrying forward towards the inferno — Yoongi feeling an intrinsic need to investigate as an honourable knight and you with an inborn fascination for fire.   With what people are shouting as they pass, you learn it’s started from a cobbler shop that put too many cobblers in the oven at one time and forgot it was in there. And by the time you get close enough to see people running in with tiny wooden pails of water, you know it’s hopeless.   It’s already started to spread.   You quickly tug on Yoongi’s sleeve. “Hey…”   He looks at you and then follows your line of sight to the unattended market stalls filled with exotic items for sale. In one moment, he already knows you’re planning to satisfy the itch of your fingers. But before he can stop you and grab the back of your collar, you’ve already crouched down and slunk away from him.   “What do you think you’re doing exactly?”   There’s a sharp, husky voice and you peek over your shoulder, discovering Yoongi hunched down with you behind some wooden crates. The corner of your mouth curls at his frown.   “When life gives you chances, duckling, you have to take them. There’s nothing free in life. But there are opportunities, don’t you know?”   His brows lift. “You’re going to steal?”   “I’m going to pick up some abandoned items at a substantial discount,” you correct, “if you’re not going to help me, then get out of my way.”   Your eyes flicker in all directions. There are creatures gathered around the flames, trying to help. Once the coast is clear, you stealthily slink over to the stall.    Yoongi’s hot on your heel, hiding his smile of amusement. You don’t seem to know but his hands aren’t completely clean either. With life in a faction the way it was, he was forced to steal things numerous times. He’s just never taken from innocent folks out in the world before.   At the stand, your hand lifts and you swipe at a leather pouch. Peeking inside, you find five branded agates, colourful rocks that seem to be worth a good amount. You slip it into your bag.   Yoongi scoffs, watching you. “What do you even plan to do with these things?”   “I’ll sell it, obviously.”    Unfortunately, your whispering is loud enough to catch the attention of a woman nearby who spins around. Once she looks at the stand, the burly owner notices and looks. He steps aside and immediately sees you and Yoongi murmuring to one another while squatting next to his merchandise.    “Hey! What're you think you’re doing?!”   You gasp, eyes wide, and you stand. Yoongi is slower to your feet as he retains a calm disposition. You steal the chance at hand and point to your companion. “I’m stopping him from stealing!”   “What?” the man huffs, louder than the sputter of the fire meters away.   Yoongi’s brows raise, surprised at your betrayal before his expression morphs into a glare.    “I’m not,” he deadpans, calmer than ever before.   “You dare take from me?!”   “You’re mistaken and my friend here is only kidding. She has a terrible sense of humour, I apologize.”   In the meanwhile, your hand slips behind you. Your fingers find a cool, silver surface and you nab it. Your other hand also curls around a thin piece of glass that’s heavy in your grip. With your bag of holding shifted behind you, you easily slip the objects in.   The man is convinced with Yoongi’s composure, one that does not belong to a thief. “You better be kidding, boy! If I find anything missing, your head’s gonna be on the chopping block,” he grunts, turns away to address the urgent fire.   Yoongi releases his held breath and glares at you.    You sheepishly grin at him and the both of you walk away from the commotion.   “Thanks for that. You really saved me there.”   “I can’t believe you betrayed me without even needing to think about it.” His eyes narrow in on you. “But I’m not surprised.”   You pout and lean into him. Your arms wrap around his body. “Aw, Yoongi. I’ll split the gold with you, promise.”   He lightly scoffs and you laugh before taking a chance to look into your bag. Instantaneously, your eyes glitter when you discover it was a bottle of common wine and also a flash of alchemists’ fire, probably worth around fifty gold pieces.    Day by day, you’re getting you closer to your goal, your dream. Soon enough, you'll have a house in the middle of nowhere, much like that Halfling wizard’s. Yet somehow, the taste of victory doesn’t have as much of a glorious flavour as it used to.   Ever since you’ve seen your ambition in the flesh, the fantasy you dwelled on doesn’t seem to be as vibrant in your mind….   Yoongi abruptly halts on his heel and you turn to him, your own trance broken.   He glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you put out that fire?” he asks nonchalantly and your eyes sweep the chaos, soaking in the distress etched on the villager’s features. Yoongi steals a glance at you. “Taking is also about giving back, right?”   There is silence.   Then, a long sigh releases from your lungs. “I never took you to be so righteous, Min Yoongi.”   “I am an honourable knight.” He smirks. “I think you forget that sometimes.”   “If you were so honourable, you’d turn me in,” you quip.   “Let’s just say I’m more loyal than I am honourable.”   Smothering it out goes against your impulse for keeping flames alive. Like you’re suddenly writing with your other hand or clasping your hands and switching which thumb folds on top of the other. Yet you still grasp your magical orb that swirls red and orange and extinguish the inferno. You stand sixty feet away beside Yoongi, hidden in the shadows as you control the flames with the movement of your palm. It smothers within five feet in one direction and the creatures around cheer, assuming the water’s finally snuffed it out.    You repeat it twice more until the fire dies down enough to be stomped on.   “Feel good?” Yoongi asks, accidentally catching your tiny satisfied smile as you both walk away.   “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s gonna take a lot more convincing for me to do charity work like that again, Yoongi.” You exhale and passingly tell him, “There’s a reason I’d rather be seen as a useless peasant girl. A lot of the time, folks would think fires like that are from people like me.”   “That’s impossible. There’s too many valuables. You’d rather take them than burn it down.”   You laugh, heart swelling.   //   The minute the sun sets over the horizon, the lanterns strung along stalls and the lights inside shops are ignited to illuminate the streets, and the humble town of Rutherglen truly comes alive.    In the town square, there are bards playing flutes and fiddles, lutes and mandolins. The folk music brightens the ambiance even more and children giggle and dance together while the elderly sit by with warm mugs of cider in their laps, clapping along. Other children are running around with paper masks, playing games and couples stroll the streets with one another.   It’s a beautiful, cozy atmosphere as snow sprinkles down from the sky in a gentle flurry. It collects on rooftops and crunches underneath your steps, glitters and shimmers against the warm glow of the lights. You aren’t cold at all, not with the emerald pea coat wrapped around your shoulders. Yoongi’s in a coat too, leather and long to his knees. He would look like a mercenary, if not for his rosy cheeks and tender features that says otherwise.   “Why are you looking at me like that?”   “No reason.” You tear your eyes away, a smile still plastered across your face.   You’re glad that you came here. Opportunity like this doesn’t happen often. Having the company of someone you find pleasant doesn’t happen either.   “Oh, oh! Look, Yoongi!” Immediately, you drag him over by his sleeve.    Yoongi knows better than to resist your whims, especially when you get excited. So he only feigns annoyance yet still follows you diligently. The two of you come to a booth with fishes swimming inside a rectangular pool of water. Kids are huddled together with buckets while the man behind the booth is loudly advertising people to come try their luck at goldfish scooping.   But even without the vendor, it’s a game you recognize well.   “Should we play?!” you ask, turning to Yoongi with glittering eyes.   “Where would we keep a goldfish?”   You deflate, disappointed, but you know he’s right. “Never mind. It’s okay. It’s just I used to play this a lot when I was a kid,” you reminisce, not sure when the last time you went to a festival was — though it might’ve been years ago when you were still a child with your family. “But I always broke the scoop before I could get one and my dad wouldn’t let me play more than once. Did you ever hear that rumour though? Some say the goldfish are actually polymored fair-goers who were caught cheating some of the other games.”   He grins. “Is that why you don’t cheat?”   “Hey, I have integrity too! Business and games are two separate things. I would never cheat during a festival or carnival.”   Yoongi scoffs lightly, but his eyes are still lit with mirth. “You always know how to twist your logic.”   It’s not long before another game interests you and Yoongi’s following you closely behind before you lose each other in the crowd.   It’s an archery competition where contestants are trying to shoot an apple off the head of a Gnome — a Gnome that was presumably forced to take on the role with the way his knees are shaking and he squeals every time someone new comes forth. The prize is an elemental gem, something you’re sure you can use to sell at a higher price.    “You know I’ve only been trained in swordsmanship, right?”   “Giving up already? That’s not the spirit.” You slap Yoongi on the back harshly despite his glare and you point at the frightened Gnome that looks like he’s about to sob. “Take your shot, duckling!”   Yoongi sighs, but raises the bow to eye level and draws it. The tip of his tongue peeks out as one eye flutters shut and he takes aim. Holding in his breath, he releases and the arrow flies.   The Gnome squeaks. Unfortunately, the arrow slams above the apple, off by a few inches.   “Better luck next time,” the girl managing the booth chimes.   You exhale in frustration and immediately toss a silver piece to the girl. You snatch the bow from Yoongi’s hands and snag another arrow from the basket. The Gnome’s eyes bulge as you aim for the in-between of his brows and before he can stutter out “W-W-Wait”, you’ve released.   There’s a sharp whistle. The arrow spirals. The Gnome ducks with a shriek and there’s a loud thunk! The apple’s pierced through it’s core, hitting the bullseye on the target behind.   “Amazing!” The girl blinks as she soaks in what transpired in a mere three seconds. But she gives you the prize as promised. “Here you go.”   You slip the shiny gem in your leather bag with a smile before turning to Yoongi and finding his surprised and impressed expression. “What? Let’s go.”   The next game you stop at is an arm wrestling contest. There are several beefy fighters and barbarians getting in a line to challenge one another at wooden tables and while it’s not something that particularly captures your attention, the prize makes you halt on your heels.   “Fight for love! The winner receives an uncommon potion! A philter of love!”   “Yoongi.” Your hand plops on his shoulder, making him stop. “Want to play?”   He looks at the horde of people and then back at you. “You want to verse me?”   You burst out laughing before it dies down and your expression washes over into impassivity. “I don’t think so. I don’t do arm wrestling contests. Ever.”   That seems to pique Yoongi’s curiosity and his brow cocks. “Why not?”   “I just don’t.” When it seems like that answer isn’t enough to satisfy him, you sigh and explain yourself further, “My older brother challenged me once and I lost so bad, I broke my wrist. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the prize is a philter of love! Don’t you know what it means? A creature who drinks it becomes charmed by another creature they see for an hour and they regard them as their true love.”   “And you would need that because….”   “To sell obviously. Unless.” You come closer to him, closing the distance between your bodies and a sly, playful smirk comes across your face. One that Yoongi finds both unsettling and provoking to his emotions. “...Unless you want to become charmed by me.”   He scoffs. “I don’t think so.”   “Because you’re already charmed, right?” You wink at him and giggle when he merely turns away and joins the lineup to play.   Yoongi ends up annihilating his competitors as you expected. He wins three rounds consecutively without one loss within minutes and hands you the prize as you’re cheering him on. The fighters and barbarians around are absolutely speechless at how such a smaller looking man seemingly without muscles could be so strong and they even challenge him directly. Yoongi sticks around for two more matches, but when the crowd grows, he decides it’s time to leave.   They beg him to stay, but he doesn’t even look back.   “You could make a living doing that, you know.”   “Playing strength games at carnivals and circuses?” He laughs and you grin, bumping into him.   “You could get famous! Think about the notoriety. People coming from far lands to challenge you.”   “Fame’s never interested me,” he breathes out.   “Wow.” You roll your eyes at his righteousness and part of you wonders what it is he actually wants. Fame and gold doesn’t seem to affect him like it does to a normal man. “The Great Min Yoongi never gets greedy for anything, huh?”   “No,” he murmurs, eyes flickering to you. “There’s definitely some things I’m greedy about.”   Before you can ask what it is specifically, he walks ahead with his arms behind his back.    You quickly catch up to him and the following game that the both of you stop at is actually something that interests Yoongi. It’s a pick pocketing challenge. People are given bright pieces of cloth to be put on their belt or in their pocket — and the last one who still has it wins a grand prize.   “Ten gold pieces?” You sharply inhale, considering it. “That’s actually not bad.”   “Want to try then?” Yoongi grins and you smile at his unexpected enthusiasm.   “You really think you could beat me in this?”   He merely shrugs and the two of you step up to join the round that starts at the beginning of the hour. You’re given a bright scarlet cloth while Yoongi’s given a soft hue of baby yellow that you find all too fitting. There are about ten people within a fifty feet circle, all of different ages. You won’t aim for the young kids, that’s a given. While children shouldn’t be underestimated, it’s clear they’re playing for fun and their parents who joined are just trying to humour them.   Your eyes, however, pinpoint on the other participants — an elderly man, a teenage girl, a married couple and Yoongi.   The Dragonborn referee blows his whistle to signify the start of the game and immediately, the teenage girl is booking for you. You dodge out of the way easily, but when you try to snatch her own cloth from her pocket, she shifts back, out of reach. The two of you stare at one another and like having mutual respect and creating an alliance, you turn away and pick different targets.   The married couple is easy to eliminate. They don’t expect it when they’re too busy with one another and you sneak up to steal their strips of cloth. You’re surprised Yoongi’s made it as long as he has and when you turn around, you find he’s taken out the elderly man ruthlessly.   “Not too bad, Yoongi.”   The corner of his mouth curls. “You underestimate me too much sometimes, Y/N.”   “We’ll see about that.”   The both of you circle each other with hooded eyes and mischievous smiles. The tips of your fingers itch to unleash magic, but you hold it back to play fair and when Yoongi swiftly surges forward, you dodge enough to barely brush against him.   You turn around, gaze locking with Yoongi’s. He grins a gummy smile full of victory and holds up your red piece of cloth that you didn’t even know you lost like it’s a winning flag. But then your eyes glitter and an enormous smile plasters across your cheeks. Yoongi finds his pastel yellow cloth is twisted around your finger and his heavy sack of gold pieces is in your other hand.   “Player four and five eliminated!”   The teenage girl ends up winning after the children forget the rules and go running out of the circle, thereby being disqualified.   “Not bad, Yoongi,” you sing-song afterwards. “But I think it’s safe to say that I still win.”   “I let you win. I know you’d sulk all night if you didn’t because you’re a sore loser.”   “Am not!”   Yoongi laughs gleefully and you can’t even feign annoyance at his teasing. You muse that there are truly few opportunities like this — where you get to spend time with someone you like as much as you like Yoongi….   The two of you soon settle down after hearing that the fireworks are beginning. If possible, the streets go into a bigger frenzy, friends coming together and families meeting in ferment. You try to go to the center of it all to watch the show, but with the crowdedness, you and Yoongi nearly lose one another.   It’s not until he grabs a hold of your hand and suggests sitting somewhere farther away that you find yourselves on a hill not far from the commotion. It’s quieter, where the noises become a lull of background sounds and you can finally hear one another’s voices. You and Yoongi sit on a dry patch of grass, shoulders brushing while you gather your knees, keeping yourself warm.   It starts after a countdown.   Colours burst in the air, one after another. They’re vivid hues that are brightened against the darkened sky, blossoming into all sorts of patterns and reflected in your irises. Some whirl into spirals, tumble in a shower and others shatter into sparks. Your breath is stolen, put into awe.   The scent of gunpowder and smokiness to the air makes the magic inside you tingle.   “Do you still want to live by yourself?” Above the bang of the fireworks is Yoongi’s husky voice. You turn to him, eyes soaking in the profile of his face illuminated by the lights. “Don’t you think you’ll be lonely living in isolation where no one can find you?”   “I never thought I would.”   You know it’s a childish dream. You came up with it as an adolescent when you were upset with your parents and you stuck with it until now. You envisioned it in moments of defiance and frustration. You held onto it with a vice-like grip. It was your anchor. Your buoy.   But you’ve been free for a long time.   Ever since you left that night with your forged documents, left behind a single note and fled without looking back, you’ve had freedom in your grasps. Now all that was left in your plan is to be kept away from the world, from any human or creature….   But as you look at Yoongi, an uneasy emotion overcomes you.   Maybe you will be lonely. Maybe the illusion is better than the reality.   You’ve always wanted a home for yourself, but a place where there isn’t anyone like Yoongi by your side feels lonely.   “I’ll make an exception,” you tell him and he turns to you, eyes locking with yours. Your mouth pulls into a smile. “You can come visit me, Yoongi. Whenever you like. It’s a one of a kind invitation.”   His lips twitch, and then they spread into a gummy grin. Yoongi’s eyes crinkle slightly, but it’s not a sight you get to savour for long when he turns away to keep watching the fireworks.    “Since we’re all getting it out in the open, can I ask why you keep calling me duckling?”   “It’s the hair.” You observe the horizon and the burst of red that comes across the darkness before more sparks spiral upwards and explode. “It’s pale yellow like a baby duck.”   You don’t notice the way Yoongi pinches the strands of his bangs. Or the way his eyes flickers up to try to see what you’re talking about. He’s never really thought about the actual shade of before — it’s always just been hair to him. It’s been the same as birth, the same as his mother’s.   And while the effort to analyze the strands are futile in this darkness and he gives up, a tender smile comes across his features.   Tomorrow, if all things go well, the two of you will finish your quest. The end is coming soon. Quicker than you’ve had a chance to realize. But you suppose that’s what time is. Fleeting.   “I’ll miss you, Yoongi,” you murmur so softly that you’re not sure if he can hear you.   But then you feel his gaze on the profile of your face and he says, “We still have to go back together. That’ll take a good week or two and even then….I don’t think I have any plans of returning to the Order.”   You’re surprised, neck whipping to the side as you look at him. “Where are you going to go?”   Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly. “I feel like I’ve spent enough time there. It’s why I took on this quest in the first place and agreed to do the favour for my mentor. I was trying to take the next step in my life.”   The next step in life.   You hum, looking at the night sky and the smoke that curls in it after the fireworks have fallen. “I’m envious….”   “You don’t have to be,” he says automatically.   Your gazes connect with Yoongi’s. “What do you mean?”   “You could do it too.”   “What would I do?” you ask, uncertain if this is an invitation to come with him, to continue your journeys together after all this is over. But Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man — that much you know. He’s blunt, though never honest with his feelings out loud. Yet in this moment, as the vivid lights are still bursting through the horizon and your eyes have met one another’s, you think you know what he means.   “Anything you want,” Yoongi murmurs in a low voice and you swear his eyes flicker to your lips.   You swallow hard and hold your breath. But as nervous as you feel, anticipation bubbles in the pit of your stomach and you lean forward, eyes fluttering shut. You feel his breath skim against your skin, warmth rising to your face and heating your cheeks like a furnace. You don’t know that Yoongi’s eyes are half-lidded, staring at your lashes as he tilts his head at a better angle.   Your foreheads nearly graze. Your mouths are a millimeter away—   “I like you!”   Both you and Yoongi jolt in your spots and your eyes open in an instant. Yoongi moves away and you turn your heads at the noise, on alert. There’s a teenage couple a few feet away by some trees and they don’t see you and Yoongi sitting together on the hill.   “Really?” the boy gives an awkward and nervous laugh.   At the same time, Yoongi releases a sigh and looks at you with a soft smile. “We should get back. There’s a long trip in store for tomorrow.”   “Y-Yeah.” You nod, getting on your feet and rushing away to try to dispel the magic spell Yoongi’s put on you that’s made your cheeks this warm.    You never notice the tender smile on his face as he stares at your backside.   //   The two of you set off an hour after the first blush before you can change your mind about coming with Yoongi. While you had planned to stay back, you can’t bear the thought of him not returning and knowing that you could’ve been there. Yoongi’s worth any kind of danger.   But it’s not like you’ll ever admit that out loud.   Your pride is too much and your fear of his impassivity to your emotions is overwhelming. Neither of you speak about last night’s affair either. How the distance was almost closed, how your lips almost touched his — maybe Yoongi changed his mind, but when he doesn’t talk about it, you don’t bring it up either.   So you both trek up the mountain in brooding silence, also sore from poor sleep. You shared the same room and bed, but peaceful slumber was far out of reach. Yoongi hogged the blanket and apparently you snored too loudly, making him beat you with his pillow several times through the night which woke you up and made you cuss at him. It didn’t help that the woman, Ashal, also barged in during the middle of the night to give you healing potions. She was the least helpful person on your journey so far and you’re glad to get away from her while you could.   “How much longer?”   “An hour. Or two.”   Yoongi twists the map around and you sigh, allowing the flame in your palm to grow and flicker. One glance at your companion and you notice the way his hands are shaking as he holds the parchment. “Aren’t you cold?”   “Not particularly,” he mumbles.   But you pull him in anyhow, looping your arm through his and holding the fire in front of both your faces. “I’m not going to save you if you freeze to death.”   The corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls. “Good to know. Are you hungry? We can take a short rest if you are or if you’re tired.”   “I’m fine. The faster we move, the quicker we get there, right? Or are we lost?”   “Stoughsby Peaks is over there.” He points and beyond clouds, you can see the imposing silhouette. What was a tiny shape back in the village has now taken up the entire horizon. “I know where we’re going.”   “Uh-huh.”   Yoongi folds up the map, places it into his pocket and buries his hands deep, finally getting them warm. You don’t miss the way he leans into your frame as well, how he comes closer to the fire dancing in your palm and you keep the flame strong so there’s some sort of heat.   You wouldn’t say it — but you’re happy to keep him warm.   “Are you not coming with me into the cave?” he asks, a cloud of air emitted from his mouth as he does so.   “I’ll support you from outside.”   “Are you scared?” his brow raises, finding such a thought surprising since it’s rather uncharacteristic of you to be.   “It’s not that. It’s….” Your voice grows quieter as your eyes narrow into this distance. Yoongi’s staring at you, but when you nudge his arm, he follows your line of vision. “Yoongi….what is that?”   There’s a rising shadow, an outline of a ginormous centipede but with wings, and it’s coming closer. Slowly and carefully, Yoongi pulls his rapier from his sheath while you take your orb out of your satchel. The two of you hold your breaths in your nose and your other hand comes to tug on Yoongi’s sleeve.    As the seconds pass, you’re finally able to discern what’s approaching — a monster that’s forty feet, scaly body with horns and an insect-like head. It’s ice-blue in colour with a dozen legs, and its back glows red with an inner fire.   “Oh fuck...oh fuck.”    Both you and Yoongi scramble back but it’s too late. The monster had picked up your scents the moment you stepped onto its territory.    “It’s a Remorhaz!” A monstrous beast resembling a cross between a worm and a centipede that thrives in cold environments. You’ve learnt about it back in your schooling days and learnt that it’s to be avoided, that the monster is worse than death itself.   The two of you start running, though the effort is futile when you hear it shriek behind you and start chasing at an impeccable speed.    You shut your eyes and channel your magic. Without hesitation, your hand slips downwards to Yoongi’s. He turns his head to you. You cast your spell and shove him away from you.   “Y/N!” Yoongi’s eyes are wide and then he fades away into the snow. Gone from your sights.   Yoongi looks down at himself to find that his entire body, clothing and weapons are translucent. You’ve casted an invisibility spell on him and with that fact known, he grips his sword and runs forward towards the monster. He strikes it on the back, surging forward to dig his blade in and the monster shrieks.   It twists and turns. But it finds nothing in its sights.   Yoongi holds in his sharp inhale. The Remorhaz’s body is hot as if it’s oozing of fire from within and feels himself burning when he comes close.   “This is why I don’t want to fight a dragon,” you spit, terrified when the fire-resistant monster coils around to approach you. “Most of my magic is fire based!”   You run again, but turn around to cast lightning bolt. It’s one of the few offensive spells you know the monster isn’t immune against. And a stroke of lightning forming a line a hundred feet long and five feet wide blasts towards it. The monstrous beast howls in agony and anger.    At the same time, Yoongi strikes his sword twice on the Remorhaz from behind. It confuses the creature even further.   Before terror can render you frozen, your palm thrusts out. A hundred twenty feet away towards the East, you stitch together an illusion. An image of another forty feet Remorhaz twitching. It seems completely real, including sounds and smells. A picture of your new worst nightmare.   The real creature contorts its head around to look, ducking and dipping, unable to discern that it's fake. The Remorhaz’s attention is completely stolen, taken away from you. And it instantaneously dives towards it while you take a temporary sigh of relief. You’re thankful you’ve always liked illusion magic more than the fire magic and spells your family taught you.   In the meanwhile, Yoongi takes the opportunity to strike it twice more, running his blade along its scaling back, making it move away faster in a frenzy. You cast lightning bolt once more, stealing the chance while you still have it.   The creature is getting weaker. You can tell with the way it slows and slumps. But the distraction doesn’t last long. When the monster bites through the illusion and completely passes through, it turns around, bulged white eyes directed right at you.   “Yoongi….Yoongi….!”   He chases after it and throws one of his daggers with as much strength he can muster. The blade lodges into its back and the Remorhaz shrieks yet again. Unfortunately for you, you’re too slow. Your feet slide from the slickness of the ground and you fall on your back into the snow.   The Remorhaz’s jagged teeth split.   Its head snaps down to bite.   You scream bloody murder.   “Yoongi!”   There’s a sudden pained shriek — it’s ear-piercing, making your ears buzz. And you open your eyes to see the monster’s bulging ones a few inches away. It’s frozen. And you scramble back in a whimper as it falls. Colliding to the ground. Lifeless.   Yoongi’s finally visible again once your concentration has shattered. And he’s standing at the back of the Remorhaz’s neck, pulling out his rapier from the soft spot. He dives into the snow immediately to cool off his body. “Fucking hell. That….that was something alright...”   You’re gasping for air, hand over your heart that’s about to give out.   “Are you okay?” he asks and when you don’t respond, Yoongi stands. He dusts himself off and comes over.   “I...I’m fine.” You take his outstretched hand and get back onto your feet. “I...I think I might need that short rest though.”   “Okay. We can do that.”   You’re reeling and your eyes peel away from the dead monster to Yoongi’s. “You...saved my life.”   “This isn’t the first time, you know,” he says with a tender smile as if he’s willing to do it a hundred more times. Yoongi’s hand pats your head affectionately as he passes by you.   You snap out of it quickly and join his side, getting the hell away from the large corpse as fast as your feet can take you.    Yoongi doesn’t ask why you decided to save him first, why you used your invisibility spell on him and not yourself. With the way you’ve been looking at him when you think he’s not looking, he already has an inkling of the reasons. And he smiles to himself, merely glad the feelings are mutual.   “W-We’re going to need a plan to fight that dragon.”   “We’re? You’re coming with me?”   “I think I owe it to you after that. At least to help in any way I can.”   The tiny smile he’s been repressing stretches into a gummy grin.   //   Stoughsby Peaks is a snowy mountain in an inhibited empty void. It’s quiet, eerily so. In the patches without snow is exposed rocky terrain that’s rough against your shoes. The opening at the entrance stares right at you as you climb the steep slope. It’s a dark cavern without a lick of light, making you unable to see anything inside. But there’s another path on the left that wraps around, leading to the top.   “So this is it…..”   Both you and Yoongi are stuck in your spots, gawking at your inevitable demise.   Had you told yourself a few weeks ago that you would be encountering a dragon with a stranger that’s no longer a stranger to you, you would’ve laughed before packing your bags and hitching a ride back to your overbearing family. As restrained as your freedom was, you were at least safe and away from danger.   But as you stand here next to Yoongi, oddly enough, you don’t feel frightened.   You feel….calm.    Maybe Yoongi’s finally emanated his stoicness and projected his indifference onto you. But you have a feeling that even if you become consumed by your own fire or that of the dragon’s, you wouldn’t mind as long as he’s there with you.   “It’ll be okay,” he says.   “Yeah…” You exchange soft expressions. “I know.”   The interior of the cave is damp, carrying a musty odor that makes you shudder when you sniff. But you try not to gag, instead keeping quiet as you stalk the walls. You and Yoongi are both hidden, coming inside from different points — you from the upper path while he took the main entrance. You can’t see him, but you know he’s here.    The plan is to stay hidden, to channel and conjure your illusion magic as a distraction while Yoongi fights the creature — a strategy similar to the one used with the Remorhaz.   So you keep yourself small, sliding behind a large boulder at a tiny plateau, a spot above the ground that makes your stomach coil when you realize you could fall to your death. It’s dark, but there’s light that comes up from the opening at the top of the mountain, a subtle beam cascading in.   But as you peek out for a tiny look, your breath hitches. There’s a mountain of diamonds and other light-hued gemstones at the bottom, a horde of highly polished platinum and silver pieces, works of art that look like mirrors, all glittering like ice. More importantly, the dragon having a slumber on top of its riches isn’t red, brass or gold like you feared it to be.   The sleeping, scaled beast with barbed claws and wide wings is white.   It’s a white dragon — a dragon of ice.   You nearly scream of delight, but you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to not be too loud. If you knew that the dragon wasn’t fire-breathing or fire resistant from the start, you would’ve marched straight in and torn this mountain apart. It’s not like a white dragon is any less fearsome, but now you know your abilities aren’t completely useless.   The dragon shifts, huffing through its nostrils and you have an inkling it’ll awake soon. Time was running out — the opportunity is still at hand and so, you steal it.    Before Yoongi can run in and sacrifice himself.   You grip onto your swirling orb and slide out into the open. Your fingers point at the stirring beast. At once, a bright streak flashes from your flesh. It blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flames. The fireball spreads around all corners of a twenty foot radius sphere. And the ice dragon awakes with a pained growl from deep within its stomach.   Yoongi who’s been hiding behind other rocks is startled, cussing you under his breath for being a reckless brat and foiling the plan. But he takes it in stride and once the fire dissipates, he comes out and tosses the dagger. It hits — the blade dug in between the wings of the dragon.   “Who. Goes. There?!”    The dragon’s pained voice booms and echoes throughout the mountain, ricocheting in your ears and rumbling the ground beneath you. He is frightening, his presence calling all those to bow down to him, but you and Yoongi are unaffected.    “Come. Out!”   You follow its orders, but only to hurl another fireball at it.   Its howl is thunderous as its heavy limbs and scales are burnt, and Yoongi uses his secondary weapon that he seldomly touches, a crossbow, to shoot it at a distance. The arrow pierces into its leg. Yet the dragon’s attention has been taken by you and in spite of its heavy limbs and scales, it moves swiftly and dexterously. The creature of great stability inhales and then exhales an icy blast centered on you.   You’re able to move away, diving out of its range, but the damage has also been done. Your leg is encased in ice, but you prop yourself against the mountain’s wall and channel the magic that runs through your blood. Your hand lifts and you create a wall of fire to protect yourself from it.   It’s sixty feet long, twenty feet high and a foot thick. The wall is opaque, flaring every so often and heating up your cheeks. It makes your skin feel like it’s melting off of your face, your eyeballs burn to the back of your lids. Yet the orange glow almost seduces you to come closer, to feel the true intensity of the heat.   You allow the phoenix fire blazing within you to unleash — and your slumped form is magically wreathed in swirling fire. A bright light sheds from your flesh and your eyes glow like hot coals.   “How. Dare. You?!”   “Where is she?!” you strain your voice, allowing it to pull from your vocal cords. “Or did you already eat her?!”   “Who. Do. You. Seek?!”   “Sorli Stav’s daughter. Mina Stav,” you spit feverishly, barely able to recall their names as you feel yourself on the verge of burning.   “You. Come. For. Mina?!”   Yoongi fires another arrow and you hear the beast roar in torment. Despite the fire that you’ve stitched together to encase you, Yoongi dashes up the slide of the slope, shouting your name.   At the same time, the white dragon crosses the wall of fire. It braces through the flames, taking damage and howling as it does so. But once it makes it to the other side and claws at you, the flames wrapped around your body burns it further. You don’t go unscathed either — lacerated in three different strokes from your shoulder downwards and feeling the bleeding wound go numb from the coldness of the creature.   Still, your trembling hand lifts and you create three rays of fire in your palm, throwing them at the dragon with little effect.    It’s over. Surrounded by your fire, at the hands of a dragon emulating ice, you can only hope your family won’t be too disappointed. You can only hope that Yoongi makes it out alive.   But the man you’re thinking about, with his pastel yellow hair that you adored from the second you laid eyes on him, he rushes in front of you. His blade, drawn and shimmering in the glow of your inferno, strikes down upon the dragon. He flicks his wrist, raises his arm and slices him across his muzzle.   The dragon cries and Yoongi yells deep in the pits of his stomach before surging forward, driving the sword further into its hide.   “Yoongi.”   Before he can grip the handle and use his body weight to tear the blade down the dragon’s front, there’s a scream of terror—   “Wait!”   A girl covered in a black cloak, skirt of her white dress peeking out, comes into view. She stands at the entrance of the cave, chest rising and falling as she gasps. And she pulls her hood down, revealing brunette curls and brightened eyes.   “Please don’t hurt him,” she begs.   Your brows furrow, having no idea who she is or where she even came from. But Yoongi seems to know her with the way he steps forward and his eyes become rounded, recognizing her from a painting he had seen. “Mina?”   “Mina?!”    You whip your head over and everything finally clicks.    //   The kidnapped girl you were sent to rescue was in fact not kidnapped.   “We met when I was a child and he saved me when I was lost in the forest for days,” Mina reminisces with a tender smile, looking over at the dragon that’s polymorphed himself into a human form. He’s become an otherworldly man with long, black hair, his skin fair yet his eyes still icy blue. He doesn’t have any cuts or bruises from the earlier fight either.   If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was a divine being.   “We became friends and...somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him.”   You’re still reeling. It’s hard to comprehend what’s going on. Or wrap your mind around the fact that there’s a tunnel system underneath the mountain and they have a whole living space here. As Mina speaks, you soak in the mundane kitchen space — the glass cupboards of mugs and teacups, the cozy picture frames of flowers in a row above the sink.   “We’ve been together for years, but it was only recently I decided I wanted to be with him forever without needing to hide him or myself.” She lifts her hands, placing it on top of his on the table and he smiles, turning his palm around to interlace their fingers together.   “Your mother thinks you were kidnapped,” Yoongi tries to explain, “She sent us here to find you.”   Mina sighs. “My mother is an...anxious woman. I left her a letter, but it seems like she still thinks I was taken against my will.”   “Maybe you can write her another letter,” he offers. “We’ll deliver it and tell her our own account on how you want to stay here.”   “But even then, who’s to say she won’t hire someone else to force her back?” you pipe up, turning to Yoongi. You know full well how overbearing family members can be and with the way that woman had disdainfully spoken about the Ice Dragon, there’s no way she’ll allow her daughter to be with him. That much is obvious to you. “She might just think we’re lying and get other people to repeat exactly what we did.”   “You’re right.” Mina’s eyes are downcast. “If she won’t even listen to me, she would never listen to you adventurers.”   “You should go back with them,” the dragon, Azer, states in a low voice. You didn’t know dragons had proper names, but you suppose in these circumstances, such a thing isn’t too strange.   “No!” She turns to him immediately. “I want to be with you. I thought we talked about this.”   “Yes, but I want you to be safe and free, and here, you’re not—”   “But I’m happy here.” Mina smiles at him lovingly and in reassurance. “I’m happy with you.”   Yet, he takes her hand and caresses it, not quite looking her in the eyes. “Even at the expense of your mother’s worries?”   “She has always worried about me. If I returned, she would marry me off to some wealthy, old man. Would you be satisfied with that?”   “Of course not.”   “So let me be with you.”   It feels like you’re intruding in on an intimate scene meant to stay between a couple. You stay quiet, trying to blend into the yellow wallpaper with Yoongi — but one glance at him and finding that he has an impassive expression, it makes your lips tickle.    You never could’ve imagined an ancient ice dragon could be such a hopeless romantic. But while things of this nature would’ve made you feel unpleasant a few weeks ago, suddenly, it seems sweet. And familiar. As if you and Yoongi have had many intimate conversations like this before.   As if you are no stranger to these affectionate-laced words.   “Please don’t tell my mother I’m here.” Mina breaks your trance, turning to you both with a desperate expression. “I don’t want her to harm Azer anymore than she already has.”   The pair of you exchange expressions and after a second, Yoongi relents. “Then we can tell her that you passed away but we defeated the dragon. We’ll need evidence for it though.”   “My blood,” the dragon in human form hums. “A vial should be enough. It’s rare to come across dragon blood, so she’ll believe you.”   Yoongi nods.   “You should leave this place too,” you say, looking around the cozy abode that they’ve made together. It would be a shame to leave this place, but a necessity for the plan. “There might be other travelers or creatures that hike up this mountain. If they see that you’re alive, the whole rouse will be over.”   They take each other’s hands, gazing at one another with warm smiles. “That’s easy enough.”   “Thank you.” Mina looks at both you and Yoongi. “Truly.”   But you don’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything spectacular. It wasn’t a fight, a battle, a victory. It was a compromise. One you had never expected to make during the trek here.   The couple offer you spare rooms to take long rests in and afterwards, they serve warm meals to satisfy the bubbling starvation in your stomach. It’s odd to see the dragon sitting there at the table, not at all resentful or angered at how you barged into his home and started to attack him without warning. He even makes jokes to you and Yoongi to which you both stiffly laugh at.    But neither of you linger for long.   When you both feel well enough to make the trip back, you bid your final farewells.   Though before you leave for good, there’s an urge to satisfy the curious question probing your brain. So you turn around to the girl you’ve been searching for all this time. “Won’t you ever get tired spending the rest of your life running and hiding?”   Mina smiles at you, a tender way you don’t yet understand. And she looks over her shoulder to the man wiping down the table. “Maybe. But I think I found something that’s worth it.”   You wonder if your own reasons are worth it.   //   A sigh befalls your lips as you walk down the steep mountain, leaving your footprints in the snow next to his. “Love does crazy things, huh?”   Yoongi steals a glance at you and smiles. “Yeah, it does.”

The journey back to Millpass takes a week without any detours.   The pair of you aren’t stoppered by ridiculous antics of other travelers nor encounter many monsters or beasts that prevent you from going forth. It’s almost ironic how smoothly and quickly things progress, how each day you make it farther than you thought was possible.   Ironically sad, of course.    Not that you would ever admit it for fear of exposing the rest of your brewing emotions. But you can’t help dwelling on the fact that the moment you learned to cherish Yoongi’s presence is when the inevitable end was approaching. Barreling towards you. Mercilessly.   Time with him always felt like it was slipping through your fingertips. To the point where you can’t even enjoy the present moment, aware that the future will have his absence. Aware that you will someday come to miss these simple affairs, these measly spats and bantering conversations.   You’ll miss him, you know that much.   How painful it’ll exactly be is something you’ll still have to wait on and see.    But no matter how much you brood, how much you try to preserve the mundane moments in your mind, the journey unavoidably ends.   In Millpass, the two of you are welcomed back as heroes. Sorli Stav is absolutely devastated over the news that her daughter is dead, but is thankful for your vengeance in ‘defeating’ the dragon. She even takes the dragon blood vial you give her as evidence, and parades it around before placing it on her mantle, underneath her ginormous portrait, as a sick memento.    The other spare dragon blood vials you have are things you sell at astronomical prices, much to Yoongi’s dismay. Although it’s not as bad in comparison when there’s a surprise celebration hosted on the streets by Sorli Stav herself. She makes sure that the whole town and their mothers know that both you and Yoongi are heroes. That you gutted that Ice Dragon to death.   There’s a party. Balloons. Free drinks. A whole speech from the mayor.   In reality, you and Yoongi are shams. Not heroes. But it’s actually not such a bad feeling.   Real heroes are overrated anyways.   “Thought I would find you here.”   Yoongi scoffs lightly but still smiles as you climb the hill and plop down beside him on the verdant grass. “I just wanted a break.”   “Too tired of all the ladies throwing themselves onto you?”   “Half of them don’t even know my name.” The man lazily grins, sitting back and leaning his weight onto his hands. “They keep calling me Yorgo. Who the hell is Yorgo.”   “Obviously the name they’re going to be screaming tonight.”   Yoongi bursts out laughing and you giggle with him.   “That mysterious front is going to land you into some trouble some day, Yoongi.”   “Yeah?” He cocks a brow, looking at you. “Is it?”   A noncommittal sound is made at the back of your throat. “People are going to fall for you left and right. What will you do then?”   “Maybe you could help me.”   “Don’t put the responsibility on me,” you tease. “It’s your fault. Appearing and disappearing. Not saying much. You just like making people wonder about you.”   “Does it work for you too?”   “Maybe.”   The evening sun’s beams pierce the sky. The sunset glow has pressed itself on your cheeks, and you both watch the soft colours cascade through the horizon, allowing the laughter of the town to fall into background noise.   Suddenly, your eyes light up as you remember something and you reach into your pocket. “Look how much gold I made. This isn’t even Sorli’s reward either. Just the dragon blood.”   He snorts and lifts his hand to feel the heavy weight of the sack. “Not bad. Are you far from your goal?”   “Halfway there,” you sing-song, “But you can keep that.”   Yoongi raises his brows, surprised that you’re sharing your wealth. “Really?”   “Yeah, I just figured….I’ve taken a lot from you anyways and it’s only fair if we half it. Plus, it can be my goodbye gift.”   It goes silent.    Yoongi holds the leather bag in his hand and focuses on it as if he’s using it to avoid his eyes straying towards you. “Are you going to look for those tapestries?”   You sigh after a moment. “No.” You can feel his gaze on you and you fiddle with your fingers. “I don’t think it’s in my reach anyways. After hearing all the rumours from different places, I have a feeling the tapestries are actually lost in the castle itself and they haven’t searched hard enough for it.”   “Then what are you planning to do after all this?”   “I...thought about what you said, Yoongi.” You shift towards him, eyes connecting. “I’m going to go home.”   “I’m tired of running away and I think it’s time I confront them and gain my legitimate freedom. I’ll fight for it. So I can come and go as I please. So I don’t have to hide under a different name.” The house that you dreamed of doesn’t need to be secluded behind a barrier in the middle of nowhere. You don’t need to go to such extremes as to cut off the rest of your family. You believe there has to be a way to have the freedom you seek and the comfort of home. “I’ll fight for it.”   “You can do it,” he whispers and you look up in surprise. Yet, Yoongi only smiles. “I believe in you.”   He is sincere. Earnest. And it means a lot coming from him, a man who is blunt and not necessarily encouraging. To have Yoongi’s support makes you feel like you could conquer anything.   “What about you? What are you going to do?”   “I should probably go back home too.” He looks off at the sunset. “It’s been a while. And there’s unfinished business I should tend to.”   You hum, following his line of sight to the beautiful sky and the fading light. Suddenly, you feel a soft touch on your finger, warm skin that hesitantly meets yours. The corner of your lips quirk and while you never once look at each other, your hand interlaces with Yoongi’s.   “We’ll see each other soon,” you promise aloud, not sure if you’re saying it for yourself or for him.   But within a beat, Yoongi hums in agreement. Like he didn’t even need to think about it.    “You still owe me that refund.”   “What about that whole sack of gold?”   “Doesn’t count. That’s a goodbye present. Not a refund.”   You laugh, leaning into Yoongi who smiles to himself.    It’s bittersweet — to know the impending yearning, but also the ultimate reunion.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #yoongi fanfiction #btsboulangerie #yoongi reader insert #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #YOONGI AS AN HONOURABLE KNIGHT WITH A DARKER BACKGROUND #WHO'S JUST TRYING TO LIVE HIS LIFE #AND GET SHIT DONE #AND OC WHO SCAMS AND LIKES TO GET INTO TROUBLE #this is definitely a different story from what I usually write #actually I wrote this while rolling dice y'all #which was new #I made character sheets for Yoongi and OC and those they have encounters with #so they had HP and spells and I kept track of everything #and also had lists and outcomes and I rolled dice while storyboarding that made decisions for me lol

[explorerspack]

in my departure from my usual brand on this blog i am Thinking About the original Empire trio.....like. these three WILDLY different people have Fate bring them to this random-ass tavern and within like 24 hours of meeting each other they uncover an entire conspiracy being spearheaded by the wizard’s organization, the cleric has a monster built to detect traitors lunge at her, the barbarian ends up alone in a tense negotiation with an extremely powerful gang and gets SHOT, and then they all have to flee the city and the cleric is like “don’t worry about it my secret organization can sneak us out” like??? they JUST MET! and then these three people are just BONDED to each other, trust each other like nothing else, go through SO much over the next few weeks...but then they meet maeve and percy and the whole dynamic starts to shift, and then esme’s entire worldview and with it her mental state gets flipped upside down, and then they reach Genasi Party Island and skala starts to vibe more with the other genasi, and THEN!!! elodie LEAVES skala and esme BEHIND! because esme tells her to, basically, and she trusts es So Much, and esme DOES keep them alive but it’s at the cost of everything, and. where are skala and elodie supposed to go from here? how’s elodie supposed to live with the fact that she Left Them, even if it seemed like the right thing at the time? how are they BOTH supposed to live with having to let esme just go off on her own? and the fact that for a while there it was just the three of them against the world but now skala has the genasi and elodie’s (hopefully) gonna have the golden grin again soon and they both have percy and maeve and wildfire it’s just! it’s SO MUCH. 

#LIKE!!!!! #empire game has been fantastic the whole way through but those first 3 sessions were fucking unparalled #and the dynamic it created between those three characters is. hhhhhh #and Now. And Now! #sorry this makes no sense in my defense it's 1am #anyway empire game....i miss you #c:empire #cha:elodie

[opera-simplified]

Opera Simplified #3: Benvenuto Cellini

Benvenuto Cellini

Opera Simplified #3

The Basics:

Music: Hector Berlioz

Libretto: Henri Auguste Barbier and Léon de Wailly

Premiere: September 10, 1838; Salle le Peletier, Paris, France

Based on [very loosely]: Vita (Life), Benvenuto Cellini’s autobiography

Setting: Rome, the final days of Carnival, 1532

Characters:

Benvenuto Cellini, a goldsmith and sculptor—tenor

Teresa Balducci, his girlfriend—soprano

Fieramosca, her fiancé and the Pope’s official sculptor—baritone**

Giacomo Balducci, her father and the Pope’s treasurer—bass-baritone

Ascanio, Cellini’s apprentice—mezzo-soprano

Pope Clément VII, duh, the boss of the Roman Catholic Church—bass*

Francesco, one of Cellini’s assistants—tenor

Bernardino, another of Cellini’s assistants—bass

Pompeo, a swordsman and Fieramosca’s friend—baritone**

A Tavern Owner—tenor

A player in Cassandro’s troupe acting as Colombine—spoken

Requested by: @monotonous-minutia (once again, thank you both for enthusiastically reading this over and for making some of the videos featured in this Opera Simplified!)

*The Paris Opéra would not allow the Pope to be portrayed onstage for the premiere, so the character became Cardinal Salvati, although his music and function in the story remained identical. However, as it should be, virtually all available performances and recordings revert to the Pope, so as such (and according to Berlioz’s intentions), I will revert as well.

**Fieramosca and Pompeo were both originally intended to be played by tenors (according to the cast list given in the Bärenreiter critical edition), but they are universally played by baritones.

Additional Notes Before We Go: There are three versions of this opera: the first version (which I will call 1838 Original version) was the version that Berlioz initially presented to the Paris Opéra; the second (which I will call 1838 Premiere version) was the score actually performed in the initial run (which flopped) after cuts and censorship; the third version, which premiered in 1852 in the city of Weimar (thus it being called the Weimar version), had other cuts and more rearranging of sections in Act II.

In an attempt to follow both Berlioz’s intentions and modern performance/recording practice, this Opera Simplified will mostly follow the 1838 Original version, albeit with some elements from other versions. Those elements will be discussed by scene in the notes.

Also: Berlioz did envision the opera with spoken dialogue; recordings are split on the issue, although only one of the five productions I have watched uses spoken dialogue.

Finally, thanks to my university’s Fine Arts Library for having a very diverse collection of opera scores, including a Bärenreiter critical edition vocal-piano score of Benvenuto Cellini, which I consulted while researching and writing this Opera Simplified.

The Opera:

Benvenuto Cellini overture

Roman Carnival Overture (not to be confused with the opera’s actual overture (given above), although this uses two very lovely tunes from Act I of the opera)

Act I:

Scene 1:

Sunset on Shrove Monday, inside the Balducci house. At left is a table with two chairs. There are two doors, one on the left and one at the back. There is also a window at the right, where Teresa is standing and watching the Carnival revellers. Balducci enters, having just gotten dressed.

Balducci: Teresa!

*Crickets.*

Teresa! Where is she?

*Ditto.*

TERESA!

*Ditto.*

TERESA I’M NOT CALLING YOU AGAIN GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW WHERE ARE YOU

*Ditto, but this time he sees her.*

TERESA I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU THAT YOU WEREN’T ALLOWED TO BE BY THE WINDOW ARE YOU DEAF

*Teresa reluctantly leaves the window.*

Fine time for daydreaming; I’ve been calling you for FOREVER! Look, the Pope’s waiting for me, could you be a nice daughter and get me my stuff? My walking stick, my gloves, my dagger, that collection of papers…?

*She hands him each in turn.*

Ugh, I can’t BELIEVE that the Pope is making me come in all the time, especially this late, every morning, every night it’s always “BALDUCCI WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE SCULPTURE COMMISSION WITH CELLINI BLAH BLAH BLAH” and it’s EXHAUSTING. I mean, not to question the Pope or anything because that would be bad and sacrilegious and all, but the Pope has Fieramosca, who is not only a perfectly good sculptor and future son-in-law but also the official papal sculptor anyway, so why is he getting some lazy libertine metalworker from Florence, of all places, to make this sculpture? **

*He leaves, grumbling.*

Teresa: FINALLY HE’S LEAVING

*Balducci immediately returns.*

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME 

Balducci: Just to make sure that nothing happens while I’m gone, lemme give you a Quick Fatherly Lecture™ because of course that will be effective! Come here and listen closely. ***

WELL, YA GOT TROUBLE, MY CHILD, RIGHT HERE I SAY YA GOT TROUBLE RIGHT HERE IN THE ETERNAL CITY—shoot where was I going with this okay start over

NEVER LOOK AT THE MOON EVER BECAUSE LOOKING AT THE MOON IS THE LITTLE SEEMINGLY INNOCENT STEP THAT LEADS TO LIVES BEING RUINED AND YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO SLEEP AGAIN BECAUSE YOU’LL BE TOO BUSY HAVING CATHOLIC GUILT AND REGRETTING ALL YOUR LIFE CHOICES YOU COQUETTISH GIRLS NEED TO WATCH YOUR HEARTS AND KEEP THEM PURE AND ALL THE OTHER STUFF YOU SHOULD’VE LEARNED AT SUNDAY SCHOOL AND THE WORLD IS A CRAZY, BAD PLACE ALSO YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WEAR A MASK (not just because masks help save lives during pandemics although that’s not the kind of mask I’m talking about at this moment) ALSO MEN ARE HIDEOUS AND APPEARANCES ARE DECEIVING AND UH THERE ARE A LOT OF DEMONS OUT THERE I GUESS SO WATCH OUT

*He leaves again. Teresa watches to make sure he is absolutely gone.*

Teresa: OKAY HE’S LEAVING FOR REAL THIS TIME

First off, that lecture made no sense whatsoever; second off, that was, like, literally torture or martyrdom or something; third off, I’m so relieved! I can breathe and relax and not worry again!

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: *outside, in the street* TRALALALALALA DE PROFUNDIS SOMETHING SOMETHING CARNIVAL WILL BURY SOMEONE TONIGHT TRALALALA ALL YOU FELLOW YOUNG ONES LIVE WELL AND NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE STOP CRYING AND ENJOY LIFE AND DRINK TO LUNDI GRAS AND TO CARNIVAL VIVA CARNIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

*Yet again, Balducci returns.*

Balducci: WHERE’S ALL THIS RACKET COMING FROM

Teresa: uggggggggggggggggggh not again hey Dad aren’t you supposed to be going to a meeting with the Pope

Balducci: I KNOW oh great all this noise is right outside I need to speak to whoever the noise control manager is I’M PRETTY SURE CELLINI AND HIS WILD CROWD IS MAKING ALL THIS NOISE TERESA AVOID ALL OF THEM AT ALL COSTS

*Cellini and his buddies throw what appears to be white confetti up through the window; they are actually white plaster pellets, which leave white dust all over Balducci.*

ARE YOU KIDDING ME I JUST GOT THIS NICE NEW OUTFIT AND THEY HAVE TO GO AND RUIN IT RIGHT BEFORE I’M SUPPOSED TO MEET WITH THE POPE IT’S TOO LATE TO CHANGE NOW SO I GUESS I’LL JUST HAVE TO GO LOOKING LIKE THIS YOU DAMN TUSCAN BOY I’LL HAVE MY REVENGE ON YOU SOMEDAY

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: LONG LIVE JOY LET’S BE HAPPY BECAUSE GOD GAVE US HAPPINESS AND LIFE SO LET’S NOT CRY AND INSTEAD JUST BE HAPPY

Teresa: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAD YOU LOOK LIKE A LEOPARD OR SOMETHING

Balducci: YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY DON’T YOU WELL IT ISN’T AND IN ANY CASE I DO LOOK LIKE A LEOPARD AND I HATE IT

*Teresa approaches the window and is immediately showered with flowers.*

TO THINK THAT OAF COULD EVER BE MY SON-IN-LAW I MEAN SERIOUSLY I WOULD RATHER BE HANGED THAN LET CELLINI MARRY YOU A CURSE ON THIS LAZY LIBERTINE FLORENTINE

Teresa: WELL DAD GET USED TO IT BECAUSE SOMEDAY HE’S GONNA BE YOUR SON-IN-LAW BECAUSE I’M GONNA MARRY HIM BECAUSE I’M COLOMBINE AND HE’S LÉANDRE AND WE’RE IN LOVE AND MEANT TO BE

I mean, me the wife of Cassandro? Could you imagine? A CURSE ON THE GUY YOU WANT ME TO MARRY ****

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: TRALALALALALA DE PROFUNDIS SOMETHING SOMETHING CARNIVAL WILL BURY SOMEONE TONIGHT TRALALALA ALL YOU FELLOW YOUNG ONES LIVE WELL AND NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE STOP CRYING AND ENJOY LIFE AND DRINK TO LUNDI GRAS AND TO CARNIVAL VIVA CARNIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

*Balducci leaves again.*

Teresa: Third time’s the charm...third time’s the charm...third time’s the charm…

*Balducci has truly left.*

FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, these are all such pretty flowers, I can’t believe they threw all of these up here just for me...

*She sees a bouquet among all the flowers scattered around.*

Ooh, this is a lovely bouquet!

*She picks it up and a note falls out.*

A note? From Cellini! Oh goodness, bold as always like that, but honestly I kinda like it.

*She opens it.*

What?! He’s coming here, tonight, for a date?! My God! Well, my dad isn’t here and he’ll be busy for a while, so this is the perfect time! What to do now…?

When you’re torn between love and duty, you have a lot of problems and angst you just want to complain about to everyone but you can’t because no one will listen to you and everyone will judge you and it really sucks. It especially sucks because you have to fear what you desire and you can’t even hope for anything good in this world. I mean, how are you supposed to pretend that you don’t feel what your heart feels and that you’re not looking at what your eyes see? Life sometimes...well, you know what? I’m not having it!

Dad, I love you, and maybe when I’m as old as you I’ll be smarter and sadder and wiser and all that, but I’m young! I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, just waiting for me to live it to the fullest! It would be such a waste to be dull and unhappy!

Someday I’ll be old, and I don’t know, be a grandma maybe, and then it’ll be fine! Love won’t matter then! But I’m young now, and I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, and I want to live it while it’s still there! *****

*Cellini enters.*

CELLINI!

*She moves a little away.*

Cellini: Teresa, it’s alright! Don’t run away!

Teresa: Cellini, I love you but I’m not sure this is gonna work.

Cellini: You’re killin’ me here!

*Noise from outside.*

Teresa: WHAT WAS THAT

Cellini: It’s fine, I promise—

Teresa: NO I’M DONE FOR AND YOU NEED TO LEAVE BECAUSE MY DAD’S PROBABLY BACK AGAIN

Cellini: No, it’s just my friends celebrating Carnival outside. I promise. It’ll be okay, don’t worry.

Oh, Teresa, you are my happiness and I love you more than life itself! I’ve learned that if I’m far away from you, I lose all hope and happiness!

*Fieramosca, who has somehow gotten into the house unnoticed, tiptoes in while holding an enormous bouquet.*

Fieramosca: You don’t win girls by breaking locks and being all macho and stuff like that; you simply sneak in on tiptoe and that’s how you steal their hearts! I mean, I guess that’s how it works.

Teresa: I love you but this is crazy! Part of me just wants to abandon all of this but a part of me deep down knows we can never see each other again…

Fieramosca: She’s not alone! I thought her dad was leaving but maybe he’s actually here? No, wait, that can’t be him—oh, I can’t believe she’s alone with another guy!

Cellini: NO I SWEAR BY ALL THE SAINTS AND THE VIRGIN THAT LOVE WILL NEVER ABANDON YOU TO FIERAMOSCA

Fieramosca: OH MY GOD IT’S CELLINI I NEED TO HIDE

Cellini: I’M NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU NEVER GONNA MAKE YOU CRY NEVER GONNA SAY GOODBYE NEVER GONNA TELL A LIE AND HURT YOU

Fieramosca: *who is now hiding...somewhere* at least pick a good song, dammit ******

Teresa: MAY MY PATRON SAINT SAVE ME FROM THE DISASTER AND SHAME OF HAVING TO MARRY FIERAMOSCA ALSO IF I HAVE TO MARRY HIM I’LL DIE

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only I could speak aloud or even whisper a word so they could hear me

Cellini: If I have to leave you, my life, my love, I’ll lose all hope…

Teresa: I really don’t know if this’ll work out...I want it to, but I’ll probably never be able to see you again…

Cellini: You marry FIERAMOSCA?! They want you to marry that stupid little such-and-such?!

Teresa: Me?! His WIFE?! I’D RATHER DIE THE CRUELLEST POSSIBLE DEATH A HUNDRED TIMES THAN MARRY HIM

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only I had my sword instead of this stupid bouquet because obviously I didn’t bring both because obviously you can’t bring both

Cellini: CHILL honey don’t go straight to dying seriously why is that every young soprano’s go-to instead let’s plan to find a way to happiness!

Teresa: And your idea is…?

Fieramosca: if only I had my sword

Cellini: ALRIGHT THEN LISTEN UP

Teresa: shhhhhhh speak more softly what if someone hears us

Cellini: well there’s no one else here but I’ll speak more softly for you

Teresa: good point about no one else being here but thanks

Cellini: So tomorrow evening, Mardi Gras celebrations—

Teresa: Tomorrow evening, at Mardi Gras—

Fieramosca: Mardi Gras?

Cellini: Don’t miss the celebration; be there at the Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: what are they saying I can’t hear them well

Teresa: Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhh I think they said Piazza Colonna—

Cellini: where Cassandro—

Teresa: Cassandro—

Fieramosca: Cassandro?

Cellini: Is presenting a new show—

Fieramosca: wait what I didn’t hear about that I didn’t know they were doing a new show

Cellini: While your dad is watching the show, you’ll take the arm of a monk in brown—

Teresa: the arm of a monk in brown—

Fieramosca: I didn’t catch like any of that

Cellini: and one in white—

Teresa: one in white—

Fieramosca: white?

Cellini: One will be your lover—

Teresa: You!

Fieramosca: Him?

Cellini: And the other, my apprentice—

Teresa: Your apprentice—

Fieramosca: His apprentice?

Cellini: I’ll take you away—

Teresa: You’ll take me away—

Fieramosca: wait what

Cellini: to Florence—

Teresa: To Florence!

Fieramosca: Florence?

Cellini and Teresa: We’ll go to Florence together and get married and be happy for the rest of our lives!

Fieramosca: wait WHAT

Teresa: Wait, but what about my dad? I can’t just leave him—and also isn’t this kinda an offense against God?

Cellini: What? Teresa, that’s just your Intense Catholic Guilt™ again. If anyone’s offending God around here, it’s your father because he wants to rob you of all your life and love by putting you in a convent or even worse, marrying you off to Fieramosca!

Teresa: NOT FIERAMOSCA NO I’M NOT MARRYING HIM

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only Balducci were here to see this

Teresa: WHO AM I KIDDING I CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF MARRYING HIM ALRIGHT I’LL DO THIS TAKE HEART WE’LL BE HAPPY TOMORROW EVENING

Cellini: Should we go over all the details of the plan again?

Teresa: YES!

Cellini: More softly, remember, Teresa, more softly like you said…

*Fieramosca moves closer in order to hear better.*

Tomorrow evening, at the Mardi Gras celebrations—

Teresa: Tomorrow evening, at Mardi Gras—

Cellini: Don’t miss the celebration—

Teresa: I won’t miss it—

Fieramosca: I most certainly won’t miss it—

Cellini: be there at the Piazza Colonna—

Teresa: Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: Piazza Colonna—

Cellini: where Cassandro—

Teresa: Cassandro—

Fieramosca: Cassandro—

Cellini: Is presenting a new show—

Teresa: A new show—

Fieramosca: A new show—

Cellini: While your dad is watching the show, you’ll take the arm of a monk in brown—

Teresa: the arm of a monk in brown—

Fieramosca: the arm of a monk in brown—

Cellini: and one in white—

Teresa: one in white—

Fieramosca: and one in white—

Cellini: One will be your lover—

Teresa: You!

Fieramosca: Him?

Teresa: Got it.

Cellini: And the other, my apprentice—

Teresa: Your apprentice—

Fieramosca: His apprentice!

Cellini: I’ll take you away—

Teresa: You’ll take me away—

Fieramosca: He’ll take her away! Well!

Cellini: to Florence—

Teresa: To Florence!

Fieramosca: To Florence!

Cellini and Teresa: We’ll go to Florence together and get married and be happy for the rest of our lives!

Fieramosca: THEY’LL GO TO FLORENCE TOGETHER AND GET MARRIED AND BE HAPPY FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES?!

Cellini: A beautiful promise! Teresa, I adore you! Love, protect her and let her make it tomorrow…

Fieramosca: YOU’RE BETRAYING ME BEWARE

Teresa: Holy Virgin, forgive me and calm my father and his anger!

Cellini and Teresa: WE’RE BOTH YOUNG AND HAPPY AND FULL OF LOVE SO WE SHOULDN’T BE RESORTING TO DEATH TO SOLVE OUR PROBLEMS ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN WE HAVE A HAPPY FUTURE ALREADY WITHIN REACH SO LET’S LEAVE THIS CITY AND FIND HAPPINESS UNDER OTHER SKIES AND HAVE HOPE AND GO TO FLORENCE

Fieramosca: YOU TRAITORS BEWARE BECAUSE I HAVE STANDARD BARITONE HATRED AND RAGE AND I WILL USE IT TO RUIN YOUR PRECIOUS LITTLE PLANS SO BEWARE

Cellini, Teresa, and Fieramosca: Tomorrow evening!

Cellini: Piazza Colonna—

Teresa: Shh!

Cellini: Near Cassandro’s theater—

Teresa: Shh!

Cellini: A monk in white—

Teresa: Yes, I’ll be there!

Fieramosca: Well then, I’ll be there too!

Cellini and Teresa: Take heart and have hope!

Cellini, Teresa, and Fieramosca: Tomorrow evening!

*Teresa hears footsteps and looks outside.*

Teresa: OH SHOOT OH SHOOT IT’S MY DAD WE’RE DONE FOR

Cellini: Are you sure?

Teresa: HE’S RIGHT OUTSIDE

Fieramosca: obviously the best solution to this problem is to hide in my fiancée’s bedroom

*Which he does.*

Cellini: Where should I go? Your bedroom?...

Teresa: NO THERE’S NOT ENOUGH TIME FOR YOU TO MAKE IT IN THERE 

Cellini: He’s coming...

Teresa: GOD HELP US

*Cellini quickly flattens himself against the wall by the door. Balducci opens the door; he is shocked to see Teresa and forgets to close it, allowing Cellini to hide between the door and the wall.*

Balducci: You’re still up? It’s really late; I thought you would be in bed by now!

Teresa: *trying to improv and pointing to her bedroom* Dad...there’s a man in there…

Balducci: A MAN?!?!

Teresa: Uh, yeah...when I went to go to bed...I heard a strange noise in there...it sounded like a man…

Balducci: A MAN?!?! I’M GONNA GO BEAT THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF WHATEVER HORRIBLE MAN DARES COME HERE AND ENTER MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM

*He runs into Teresa’s bedroom. Cellini comes out from his hiding place.*

Teresa: Go while I’ve bought you some time!

Cellini: Thank you, my love! See you tomorrow evening!

Teresa: See you then!

*Cellini leaves.*

Teresa: Oh, boy, I’m afraid this won’t go well.

Balducci: *from Teresa’s room* YOU BASTARD I’VE FOUND YOU

Teresa: Wait, there’s actually a man in my bedroom? Well, that’s convenient.

*Balducci drags Fieramosca, who is still holding his bouquet, out of the bedroom.*

Balducci: COME WITH ME OR ELSE I’LL KILL YOU

*He recognizes Fieramosca.*

What? You, Fieramosca?

Teresa: BAHAHAHAHA WHAT AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT

Fieramosca: First off, I wasn’t trying to rob you—

Balducci: THIS IS MUCH WORSE THAN THAT ALSO WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM

Teresa: YEAH WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY BEDROOM

Fieramosca: Uh, well, it’s very simple, really...I came…

Balducci: YEAH I KNOW THAT

Fieramosca: I...I was coming just to visit.

Balducci: ‘I was coming just to visit!’ A visit, late at night, when I’m not here, HIDING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM YOU HORRIBLE PERSON

Teresa: EXCUSE ME IT COULD HAVE LOOKED SO BAD THAT I WOULD HAVE BEEN EXCOMMUNICATED

Fieramosca: ...I’m pretty sure that that’s not how excommunication works.

Teresa: WHAT AUDACITY

Fieramosca: I swear, it’s not what it looks like—

Balducci: THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY

Fieramosca: But Mr. Balducci, sir, I swear—

Balducci: THE FACTS SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES

Fieramosca: My God, you think I would be the one to do such a thing?

Balducci: Well, who else, you horrible person?

Teresa: (You traitor!)

Fieramosca: IT’S CELLINI

Teresa: CELLINI???

Balducci: CELLINI?!?!

Fieramosca: CELLINI!!!

Balducci: You call yourself Cellini! Have you lost your mind?

Fieramosca: No, no, WAIT!!!

Balducci: ENOUGH OF THIS

*He opens the window and starts yelling. Teresa also sticks her head outside and starts yelling.*

Teresa and Balducci: HEY EVERYONE GAETANA CATARINA FORNARINA PETRONILLA SCHOLASTICA AND EVERY OTHER NAME IN THE BABY BOOK COME HERE

Fieramosca: PLEASE STOP MAKING SUCH A HUGE RACKET 

*Teresa runs out the back door to call for help.*

Neighbors: *offstage* UGGGGGGGGH WHY ARE YOU NEIGHBORS FIGHTING AND MAKING SO MUCH NOISE

Balducci: A LIBERTINE IS IN MY HOUSE HE WAS HIDING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM HELP US TEACH HIM A LESSON AND GET HIM OUT OF HERE

Neighbors: OH THAT’S A DIFFERENT STORY

Fieramosca: I’M NOT A LIBERTINE I’M A GOOD UPSTANDING PERSON PLEASE LISTEN TO ME THIS IS HIGHLY EMBARRASSING

*Balducci goes away from the window and Teresa returns.*

Teresa and Balducci: Fieramosca, you’re in good hands.

Fieramosca: THIS ISN’T AN ALLSTATE COMMERCIAL AND THIS ISN’T FUNNY

Teresa and Balducci: What’s Allstate? Oh, never mind.

Balducci: ONLY WOMEN CAN SHOW THE RIGHT WAY TO EXTRAVAGANT MEN LIKE YOURSELF

Fieramosca: Left to the mercy of women!...NO THIS IS HORRIBLE I FEEL LIKE I’M ORPHEUS BEING TORN APART BY THE BACCHANATES *******

*He tries to escape in one direction but is blocked by a large crowd of women armed with household objects.*

Neighbors: WE’RE GONNA TEACH YOU LIBERTINE A LESSON BECAUSE YOU’RE MESSING WITH A WOMAN’S HONOR SO YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A VERY UNPLEASANT BATH

*Fieramosca tries to escape in another direction but the same thing happens with a different crowd of women.*

Fieramosca: I just came here to have a good time and I honestly am feeling so attacked right now :(

Neighbors: LET’S TAKE HIM INTO THE GARDEN AND DUNK HIM IN THE HUGE FOUNTAIN YOU COWARD YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A BATH

*The same thing happens with a third crowd.*

YOU WRETCHED HONORLESS COWARD YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A BIG BATH IN THAT FOUNTAIN AND THE POND AND WE’RE GONNA LEAVE YOU THERE UNTIL MORNING YES YOU’RE GONNA BE IN THERE ALL NIGHT AND THERE’S NOTHING THAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU CRY LIKE THE LITTLE BABY YOU ARE

Teresa and Balducci: YEAH BEAT HIM UP AND DUNK HIM IN THE FOUNTAIN SO HE CAN LEARN A LESSON THAT HE WILL NEVER FORGET

Fieramosca: YOU SHREWS WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME I REALLY DON’T WANT TO BE STRIPPED NAKED AND DUNKED INTO THE WATER AND LEFT THERE ALL NIGHT I REALLY NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS SITUATION

*He starts running around trying to find a means of escape.*

I’M ORPHEUS AND I’M BEING TORN APART BY THE BACCHANTES HOW DARE THEY TREAT ME LIKE I’M A LIBERTINE I SWEAR I’M A MAN OF HONOR AND I REALLY JUST NEED TO RUN AWAY

*Exit, hurriedly, pursued by the neighbors. Not quite as terrifying as a bear, but close. [We later find out that they successfully caught him and dunked him in the fountain anyway.]*

Notes

Scene 2: 

Evening, Mardi Gras. A tavern on the corner of the Piazza Colonna and the Via del Corso, with a view of Cassandro’s theater. Cellini is alone.

Cellini: Teresa will be here, at the Piazza Colonna, in only one more hour! Love, on this joyous day of Mardi Gras, let my heart be the happiest of them all! And if you don’t, ah, you are ungrateful!

I used to only care about glory, the kind of crazy noble hope that only artists have, but that’s all changed now and I reject it all; Teresa alone rules my heart! Love, see what I’ve done and how I’ve changed for you: protect her and protect me!

Teresa once lived so peacefully—like a stream flowing by far from the sea, her days and years passed by, one after the other, all the same, as they were supposed to. But she loves me enough that she’s willing to give that security up, and not only that, she wants to take up my life of wandering and misery instead, just because she loves me! Love, see what she does for you: protect her and protect me! **

*Francesco, Bernardino, and a bunch of Cellini’s friends and fellow goldsmiths enter, fully ready to party.*

Everyone: ALRIGHT EVERYONE LET’S GET WASTED (or not but whatevs we just want to drink)

Bernardino: TRALALALALALALALALA I AM AN EXCELLENT SINGER TRALALALALALALA LET’S ALL SING TRALALALALALALALALA

Cellini: Very well, but for the love of everything holy, please don’t sing any of those lowbrow drinking songs or ballads about sweethearts that EVERYONE sings in taverns. Let’s sing about how awesome metalworking is—a toast to our glory!

Everyone: THE EARTH MAY GROW AWESOME STUFF ON THE SURFACE WHEN THE WEATHER IS GOOD BUT PEOPLE CAN GET METAL FROM THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH AT ANY TIME 

HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS!!!! WE CAN CREATE TREASURE FROM WHAT’S BENEATH THE EARTH ANYTIME AND ANYWHERE

WHEN THE MASTER METALWORKER WORKS, GOLD SHINES LIKE THE SUN AND RUBIES LIKE FIRE IN THE NIGHT AND EVEN THE DIAMONDS AND TOPAZES SPARKLE AT NIGHT WITH THE STARS

When the world was created, artistic genius was given to four kinds of artists, each with their own tools: the architects have stone, the painters have color, the sculptors have marble, and those are cool and all, BUT WE THE METALWORKERS HAVE GOLD

METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

Bernardino: HEY everyone let’s have a moment of silence

Cellini: For what?

Bernardino: BEFORE WE START SINGING AGAIN LET’S ALL GET SOME MORE DRINKS

Everyone Else: YEAH WE NEED MORE WINE BECAUSE WE ALREADY DRANK WHAT WE GOT HEY TAVERN OWNER COME HERE

*The tavern owner, who is (probably) super-annoyed with everyone and definitely needs a nice vacay, comes in.*

Tavern Owner: uggggggggggggh whaddya want?

Everyone Else: WE WANT WINE

Tavern Owner: WE’RE OUT THANK YOU

Cellini: THIS IS LITERALLY A TAVERN HOW COULD YOU BE OUT OF WINE

Tavern Owner: Well, actually, we’re technically not out of wine but you’ve already had too much and if you want to drink more…

Everyone Else: Then...?

Tavern Owner: ...you need to pay up for the wine you’ve already had.

Everyone Else: Well, what do we owe you?

*The tavern owner gets out an exceedingly long list.*

Tavern Owner: Well, you asked for it, so here’s the whole long list of everything you bought:

First, white wines: Orvieto and Aleatico and Maraschino—that’s thirty.

Everyone Else: Thirty already?

Tavern Owner: Next up, reds: Ischia and Procida and Nisita—that makes sixty.

Everyone Else: wait SIXTY BOTTLES

Tavern Owner: And that’s not the half. There’s also Asti sparkling wine, Lipari wine, Lacryma-Christi (Jesus, you people drink a lot of the dude’s tears)—which brings the total to exactly one hundred and thirty bottles of wine.

Everyone Else: ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY BOTTLES SWEET JESUS WHO THE HELL BOUGHT THAT MANY

Tavern Owner: ...You people did. Not my problem.

Cellini: EVEN THE TRUMPETS OF THE LAST JUDGMENT WOULD BE LESS SCARY THAN THE VOICE AND THE LIST OF THE TAVERN OWNER

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: YEAH THIS IS HORRIBLE

Cellini: Hmm, how do we get out of this sticky situation?

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: LET’S BEAT UP THE TAVERN OWNER

Cellini: Nah. Let’s think about this.

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: awwwwwwww but we wanted to beat him up

*The tavern owner runs off.*

Cellini: Maybe Ascanio will save us!

*Ascanio, who is apparently well-versed in reality shows, comes in at that exact moment with a bag of money.*

Everyone: HURRAY THERE HE IS HE’S COME TO SAVE US LONG LIVE ASCANIO

*Cellini runs over to greet him.*

Cellini: THERE YOU ARE I’M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU LET’S CHAT AND LET ME HAVE THE MONEY IT LOOKS LIKE THE POPE GAVE YOU FOR THE STATUE

Ascanio: Hold on, wait a sec! I’m ready to drink as much as any of you, but first I need to tell you something very important.

This is indeed from the Pope: it’s advance money for the casting of the Perseus statue, which everyone on the Italian peninsula is waiting for with baited breath! There’s one condition attached, though: you must have the statue done tomorrow. I need your oath. ***

Cellini: Tomorrow? Very well, nothing I can’t handle. I swear it.

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: AND WE SWEAR IT TOO SINCE WE’RE GONNA HELP CAST IT

Everyone: WE GIVE OUR WORD THAT THE STATUE WILL BE CAST TOMORROW WITHOUT ANY DELAY

Ascanio: Alright, now I can feel good about giving you this money since you’ve all promised. I hear you have to pay off a bill; here you go.

*Cellini empties the bag and examines the contents, visibly disappointed.*

Cellini: That’s IT???

Francesco and Bernardino: That’s practically nothing!

Ascanio: Hey, not my fault that Balducci is an old, grouchy fool.

Cellini: Well, he doesn’t like me anyway, and at least this is definitely enough to pay the bill. Waiter!

*The tavern owner comes back. Cellini mimics his nasal voice.*

Here’s your precious money to pay off your precious bill!

*The tavern owner, trembling, accepts the money.*

Tavern Owner: FINALLY THANK YOU do you want to drink?

Everyone Else: YEAH GET US SOME MORE WINE

*He goes off.*

Cellini: HEY EVERYONE I HAVE THE BEST IDEA TO GET REVENGE ON BALDUCCI FOR PAYING ME SO BADLY so I know that Balducci is coming to see Cassandro’s show at the Carnival celebrations tonight so since we’re buddies with Cassandro and his troupe whaddya say to paying the troupe to make fun of Balducci in the show tonight and even maybe getting in on shaming and humiliating him ourselves???

Everyone Else: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY THAT SOUNDS AWESOME

Cellini: ANATHEMA ON GIACOMO BALDUCCI

Everyone Else: YEAH HE CAN GO SUCK IT MEANWHILE WE’RE GONNA MAKE ALL OF ROME LAUGH AT HIM SO LET’S GO TO CASSANDRO’S

Everyone: GLORY TO US LET’S SING THE SONG ABOUT HOW AWESOME METALWORKERS ARE AGAIN

Cellini: Just the last part—that’s the best verse!

Everyone: METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

*Fieramosca, who has been spying on all this, comes out of his hiding place.*

Fieramosca: IT’S TOO MUCH ALL THIS SHAMELESS PLOTTING AND I WON’T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH THIS ****

*Pompeo casually strolls in.*

Pompeo: Hey, what’s up with you?

Fieramosca: WHAT’S UP WITH ME??? MY LIFE IS FALLING APART AND I’M FILLED WITH RAGE BECAUSE CELLINI—

Pompeo: oh what did he do NOW

*Fieramosca runs over to Pompeo and embraces him.*

Fieramosca: POMPEO MY DEAR FRIEND MY SAVIOR

Pompeo: oh wait I heard what happened to you yesterday.

Fieramosca: You know? I haven’t even told you yet!

Pompeo: Everyone knows. You got beaten up and dunked into a fountain.

Fieramosca: PLEASE DON’T TALK ABOUT IT DEAR POMPEO ANYWAY THE WHOLE SITUATION GETS MUCH WORSE

Pompeo: How so?

Fieramosca: TERESA AND HER DAD ARE GONNA SEE CASSANDRO’S SHOW AT CARNIVAL TONIGHT

Pompeo: ...I fail to see the problem.

Fieramosca: THE PROBLEM IS THAT WHILE THE SHOW’S GOING ON AND BALDUCCI’S DISTRACTED A WHITE FRIAR AND A CAPUCHIN ARE GOING TO CARRY OFF MY FIANCÉE

Pompeo: Bravo!

Fieramosca: YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT THE WHITE FRIAR IS CELLINI AND THE CAPUCHIN IS HIS APPRENTICE ASCANIO

Pompeo: Bravo!

Fieramosca: ...Excuse me?

Pompeo: Long live boldness!

Fieramosca: I don’t care what happens to me but I’m going to tell Mr. Balducci about this plan and we’ll see if he cries ‘Bravo!’

Pompeo: oh my goodness you IDIOT do you not get it

Fieramosca: What?

Pompeo: I love you, but since you’re obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed, let me explain it to you in small words so you can understand: since you know his plan, use the plan yourself.

Fieramosca: but HOW

Pompeo: omg this is so frustrating you dress up as a White Friar and I dress up as a Capuchin and we get there before Cellini and Ascanio 

Fieramosca: good idea BUT WHAT IF CELLINI SEES ME HE’S GONNA KILL ME

Pompeo: DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT YOU HAVE ME AND I’M A PRO AT THIS

Fieramosca: Very well.

WHO CAN STAND UP TO ME WAS I NOT BORN TO FIGHT WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES CROSS ME AND EVEN MORE WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES MOCK ME BECAUSE I’M AS QUICK TO A SWORD AS TO ANGER HERE’S A QUARTE HERE’S A TIERCE LONG LIVE FENCING WHICH (aside from sculpting and getting humiliated by my fiancée and the guy she likes I guess) IS MY BEST SKILL *****

TERESA MY HEART IS BURNING FOR YOU LIKE MOUNT VESUVIUS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT IF YOU WANTED ME TO I’D MAKE WAR ON HELL AND EVERYONE IN IT AND I’D EVEN FIGHT CELLINI AND NOT EVEN A HUNDRED CELLINIS COULD KNOCK ME DOWN

NO!  NO ONE CAN STAND UP TO ME WAS I NOT BORN TO FIGHT WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES CROSS ME AND EVEN MORE WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES MOCK ME BECAUSE I’M AS QUICK TO A SWORD AS TO ANGER HERE’S A QUARTE HERE’S A TIERCE LONG LIVE FENCING WHICH IS MY BEST SKILL

*He grabs his sword or some other random object and starts mock-swordfighting. Popping random balloons is optional but strongly encouraged.*

ONE TWO THREE ONE TWO THREE THRUST PARRY ONE TWO ONE...DEAD! I MERCILESSLY STAB HIM THROUGH THE HEART AND I AM VICTORIOUS

Pompeo: Bravo! Now let’s go. The party’s almost starting.

Fieramosca: Dear Pompeo, let me embrace you!

*They hug.*

Pompeo: Now let’s get a couple habits from...somewhere. Don’t be afraid. Everything will go just fine.

*They leave together.*

Notes

Scene 3:

The Piazza Colonna a short time later, with Cassandro’s theater and everything decked out for Carnival.

Balducci: I really hope you appreciate that I’m taking you to the theater at your request, even though you know that all I do at the theater is complain about the actors and you know that I don’t like theater anyway. Anyway, let’s see what weird new show all the kids these days are talking about.

*He goes to read the advertisement for the show, leaving Teresa alone.*

Teresa: What should I do? Could I really leave my old father alone and break his heart?

*She goes over to her father. Cellini, dressed in a white habit, and Ascanio, dressed in a brown habit, enter.* **

Cellini and Ascanio: let’s keep our project on the down-low and let the troupers distract Balducci and then work together and get Teresa and then go to the notary!

Teresa: Could I really leave my father behind? Then again, maybe, when we get married, he’ll learn to accept it!

Balducci: I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS BECAUSE I KNOW I WON’T

Cellini and Ascanio: let’s let this plan play out!

*The four of them get lost in the crowd.*

Revellers: HEY EVERYONE CASSANDRO IS PRESENTING A NEW SHOW SO STICK AROUND AND SEE IF IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IF IT’S NOT WE’LL BOO OUR HEADS OFF

*A group of dancers with tambourines enters, along with Francesco, Bernardino, and the members of Cassandro’s troupe. Teresa and even Balducci get mixed in with the dancers. People mingle in the square and start to join in with the dancing.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE COME HERE COME SEE THIS AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: BRAVO BRAVO

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE COME SEE CASSANDRO AND HIS AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY BRAVO BRAVO

IT’S DARK BUT WE’RE ALL SO HAPPY AND THE CITY IS SO NOISY AND WE’RE ALL IN LOVE AND A LITTLE BIT DRUNK HOW COULD YOU BE SAD

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: C’MON COME SEE THE SHOW

Revellers: HEY MUSICIANS PLAY ON WE LOVE YOUR MOOD

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE WE DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE A DOCTOR OR A JOKER COME SEE OUR AWESOME SHOW

Revellers: LONG LIVE JOY LET’S DROWN IN JOY LET’S DRINK AND SING AND DANCE

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: ALL YOU MASQUERADERS COME SEE THE SHOW TOO

Teresa and Revellers: CARNIVAL IS A HUGE PARTY WHERE EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND THE WORLD TURNS UPSIDE DOWN

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE WE’RE GONNA KEEP SAYING IT COME SEE OUR AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: WHO ELSE IS EXCITED ABOUT THIS NEW SHOW

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: DON’T GO AWAY BECAUSE CARNIVAL AIN’T COMPLETE WITHOUT US AND OUR AWESOME SHOWS

Some of the Revellers: KEEP YELLING AT US IF YOU WANT BUT WE THINK DANCING’S MORE FUN SORRY NOT SORRY

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: WE DON’T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU STUPID DANCERS THINK EVERYONE COME SEE THE SHOW

Teresa and Revellers: WE LOVE TO DANCE AND ALL THE WORLD IS A BALL SO LET’S DANCE WHILE WE CAN

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: EVERYONE COME SEE OUR NEW SHOW CASSANDRO’S AWESOME AND YOUR DANCING IS STUPID

Revellers: WHAT A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT CARNIVAL IS A HUGE PARTY THAT MAKES THE CITY BURN WITH DELIGHT AND THE WORLD TURN UPSIDE DOWN

*The trumpeters signal the beginning of the show. Most of the people take seats near the stage, including Teresa and Balducci. Cellini and Ascanio grab seats on the left. Fieramosca (dressed in white) and Pompeo (dressed in brown) find seats on the right.*

Men: HEY EVERYONE STOP DANCING THE SHOW’S ABOUT TO START

Women: YEAH EVERYONE BE QUIET THE SHOW’S STARTING

*The curtain of the theater rises to reveal four actors onstage: a man dressed like the Pope, a man dressed like Balducci sitting on a throne, and two men dressed like Swiss Guards and holding money and laurels.*

People: LOOK THERE’S THE POPE AND HIS TREASURER BALDUCCI

Balducci: OH SO THIS IS HOW IT IS THEY’RE GONNA MOCK ME ONSTAGE HUH

Teresa: oh no oh no let’s go, Dad!

Balducci: Well, I paid to see this stupid show so I might as well stay here and see the whole thing and see myself get completely and utterly humiliated. After this, though, I'm going to go speak to the Pope about how the people are making fun of us and about the utter blasphemy they’re committing!

People: HEY YOU OVER THERE SHUT UP WE CAN’T HEAR THE SHOW

Cellini: Hey, Ascanio, do you see Teresa?

Ascanio: She’s over there.

Fieramosca: Hey, Pompeo, do you see Teresa?

Pompeo: She’s over there.

Teresa: this is the most embarrassing thing ever

People: HEY EVERYONE SHUT UP

Balducci: BUT I DON’T WANNA SHUT UP

People: CAN IT

*Colombine enters.*

Colombine: HEY EVERYONE OUR SHOW’S STARTING AND WE HAVE A TREAT FOR YOU BECAUSE HARLEQUIN AND PIERROT ARE GONNA COMPETE IN THE ITALIAN PENINSULA’S GOT TALENT TO SEE WHO’S THE BETTER SINGER ***

People: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

*The actors playing Harlequin and Pierrot enter.*

Some People: HARLEQUIN IS BEING PLAYED BY THE BEST TENOR IN ROME

Other People: PIERROT IS BEING PLAYED BY A SINGER FROM TUSCANY BUT IS HE ACTUALLY A MAN OR JUST AN ASS

Women: PLEASE BE QUIET HARLEQUIN IS ABOUT TO SING

Men: YOU BE QUIET

*Harlequin (in pantomime) sings and accompanies himself on the lyre. Some people continue talking; the fake Balducci falls asleep.*

Men: Well done! Bravo! You damn chatterboxes need to shut up!

Women: YOU HAVE TO WATCH HARLEQUIN HE’S BEING PLAYED BY ROME’S FINEST TENOR

Everyone: HE’S SUCH A GOOD SINGER AND HE’S DOING SO WELL EVEN THOUGH TECHNICALLY HE’S NOT ACTUALLY SINGING

*Harlequin’s section comes to an end. Pierrot (again, in pantomime) sings and accompanies himself on the bass drum. The people all listen attentively; the fake Balducci wakes up and, delighted, beats to the time of the music.*

Some People: LOOK HOW MUCH THE OLD TREASURER IS ENJOYING THIS

Balducci: THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR I NEED TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER OF THIS

Some People: STOP BEING SUCH A KAREN

Balducci: WHAT’S A KAREN

Some People: NEVER MIND YOU’RE TOO FOOLISH TO UNDERSTAND

Other People: HAHAHAHAHA THE OLD MAN IS SO HAPPY HAHAHAHAHAHA

*When the song is over, Harlequin and Pierrot both wait, expecting the prize. The fake Balducci gives a small coin to Harlequin, who is visibly disappointed, and then gives the rest of the money to Pierrot.*

People: Well, when the judge has an ass’s ears…

Balducci: SCREW YOU ALL I DEMAND TO SEE THE MANAGER OF THIS OPERATION

Teresa: please be quiet you’re only making them laugh louder

*The fake Balducci gives the laurel wreath to Pierrot. Harlequin then hits both of the other actors with a wooden sword. Colombine unsuccessfully attempts to intervene.*

People: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY BRAVI THIS IS THE BEST SHOW EVER

Balducci: FINE SINCE I CAN’T SPEAK TO THE MANAGER I’M GONNA TAKE THIS INTO MY OWN HANDS

*He jumps up from his seat, runs onstage, and begins attacking the comedians with his cane.*

Teresa: oh my GOD DAD STOP BEING SUCH A KAREN

People: LONG LIVE CARNIVAL BRAVI THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTOR ARE FACE TO FACE SO NOW WE GET TO SEE WHICH IS UGLIER

*Some of the people stay to watch the fight between Balducci and the comedians, while others go back to dancing and mingling. Several people carrying moccoli (little candles often carried at Carnival) mix with the crowd. People keep blowing out and relighting the moccoli. Several coaches are bearing torches; these are blown out from apartment windows above by people bearing large bellows. Cellini, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Pompeo make their way through the crowd, trying to find Teresa. In general, it’s absolute pandemonium; what else would you expect?* ****

Cellini and Fieramosca: *to their respective assistants* Come on, let’s push our way through this huge crowd and get Teresa!

*Teresa has made her way downstage and is looking for Cellini and Ascanio when she sees, but does not definitively recognize, them.*

Teresa: OH HEY I THINK THAT’S CELLINI WITH ASCANIO

*She sees Fieramosca and Pompeo in their disguises but does not recognize them.*

WAIT WHAT WHY IS THERE ANOTHER WHITE FRIAR AND CAPUCHIN MONK DUO WHAT ON EARTH IS THIS

Fieramosca: HI IT’S ME

Cellini: HI IT’S ME

Teresa: WHICH ONE IS THE ORIGINAL

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Cellini and Fieramosca: IT’S ME COME WITH ME

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Other Revellers: YOU MOCCOLI PEOPLE ARE SO ANNOYING

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI IT KINDA RHYMES WITH BROCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Cellini: THERE’S ANOTHER MONK HERE THERE’S SOME TREACHERY AFOOT GOD DAMN IT

Pompeo: C’MON FIERAMOSCA WE CAN DO THIS DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT

Fieramosca: this is the worst plan EVER

Pompeo: KEEP GOING ANYWAY

Ascanio: WE NEED TO AVENGE THIS TREACHERY

Pompeo: SERIOUSLY FIERAMOSCA I LOVE YOU BUT PLEASE STOP WORRYING ABOUT THIS

*Cellini draws his sword.*

Cellini: I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE YOU ASKED FOR IT BECAUSE IT SEEMS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO KIDNAP MY GIRLFRIEND

Fieramosca: POMPEO PLEASE COME OVER HERE AND HELP ME OUT BECAUSE I’M GETTING SCARED

Ascanio: *running after Fieramosca* I WILL GET YOU

*Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Pompeo all draw their swords. Cellini fights Pompeo; Ascanio fights Fieramosca.*

Teresa: FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE SOMEONE STOP THIS

*Some of the revellers unsuccessfully attempt to restrain the four fighters.*

Revellers: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND IT’S CARNIVAL THIS ISN’T A TIME FOR FIGHTING

Cellini: NO I HAVEN’T LOST MY MIND

Teresa: EVERYONE STOP IT

Fieramosca: *running away from Ascanio* SOMEONE HELP ME

Pompeo: KEEP GOING

Cellini: YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Fieramosca: SERIOUSLY SOMEONE HELP ME

Cellini: NO YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS NO

*He runs Pompeo through with his sword. Everyone immediately stops what they’re doing and screams.*

Pompeo: I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I AM DEAD

*He dies.*

People: OH SHIT A DUDE JUST GOT MURDERED FIRE POLICE AMBULANCE

*Balducci, in a state of disarray from the fight, returns.*

Balducci: GOOD LORD THERE’S A DEAD MAN WHERE’S MY DAUGHTER

*Guards arrive. Fieramosca runs over to Pompeo’s body, checking behind him because he believes that Ascanio is still following him.*

Fieramosca: HELP ME....OH MY GOD POMPEO’S DEAD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

People: *pointing to Cellini* ARREST THAT FRIAR HE DID IT AND HIS SWORD STILL HAS THAT DUDE’S BLOOD ALL OVER IT

*Cellini is arrested. Everyone gathers around him.*

Cellini: I’M DONE FOR

Fieramosca: I’m saved…

Francesco and Bernardino: THEY CAUGHT OUR MASTER

Ascanio: MY POOR MASTER DOESN’T DESERVE THIS

Fieramosca: WE GOT ‘IM

Teresa: WHY IS FATE SO CRUEL

Teresa, Balducci, Francesco, and the Troupers: THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT EVER

Women: Such a good man killed…

Men: A KNAVE DID THIS

*Cellini’s friends and assistants pretend not to recognize him in order to more effectively set up their plan.*

Fieramosca, Balducci, Francesco, Bernardino, and People: HOW COULD THIS MAN MURDER A CAPUCHIN THAT’S LIKE THE WORST THING EVER HE’S PROBABLY A BANDIT FROM THE COUNTRYSIDE OR A SPURNED LOVER OR SOMETHING KEEP A GOOD GRIP ON HIM

Teresa: HE RUINED HIMSELF FOR MY SAKE I FEEL AWFUL I DIDN’T KNOW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN BUT I STILL FEEL AWFUL ALSO HOW DARE YOU PEOPLE TREAT HIM LIKE A MONSTER

Cellini: THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT EVER HOW DARE YOU PEOPLE TREAT ME LIKE A MONSTER

Ascanio: MY DEAR MASTER I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY’RE DOING THIS TO YOU AND TREATING YOU LIKE A MONSTER

*Suddenly, the cannon of the Castel di Sant’Angelo booms three times. As presumably per end-of-Carnival tradition, everyone blows out their candles and torches, plunging the square into darkness.* *****

Cellini: MY FRIENDS HELP ME I’VE BEEN CAUGHT

*Francesco, Bernardino, and others create a large commotion. In the general confusion caused by that, the darkness, and the booming of the cannon, Cellini pushes his way through the crowd and escapes.*

People: WE CAN’T SEE ANYTHING

Fieramosca, Balducci, and Chorus: HEY GUARDS DO YOU STILL HAVE HIM

Guards: NO WE DON’T HELP US

People: BUT YOU’RE THE ONES WHO WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE HIM

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: THANK GOODNESS HE ESCAPED

Fieramosca and Balducci: WHAT THE H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEYSTICKS WE JUST HAD HIM

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: THANK YOU CANNON FOR SOUNDING AT JUST THE RIGHT TIME SO HE COULD ESCAPE

Fieramosca, Balducci, and People: CURSE YOU STUPID CANNON WE JUST HAD HIM WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO OFF NOW

Balducci: TERESA COME HERE

Teresa: DAD—

Ascanio: *grabbing Teresa’s arm* HEY TERESA IT’S ME ASCANIO COME WITH ME

*The two of them make their way through the crowd, trying to avoid Fieramosca and Balducci.*

People: OH GOD THE MURDERER ESCAPED WE JUST HAD HIM AND NOW WE CAN’T SEE A THING AND HE’S GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT

Balducci: TERESA WHERE ARE YOU IT’S SO DARK AND NOISY OUT AND I CAN’T SEE A THING

Fieramosca: CURSE THIS STUPID CANNON WE JUST HAD HIM BUT NOW THERE’S A MURDERER ON THE RUN AND IT’S SO DARK AND NOISY OUT SO I CAN’T SEE A THING

Teresa and Ascanio: IT’S SO NOISY OUT BUT HE’S GOTTEN AWAY SO THAT’S GOOD

People: THIS IS GETTING WAY TOO CRAZY AND IT’S JUST PLAIN CHAOS

*In the midst of the chaos, Balducci bumps into Fieramosca.*

Balducci: IT’S HIM IT’S THE MONK IN WHITE

Fieramosca: wait WHAT

Balducci: I GOT HIM

Fieramosca: EXCUSE ME WHAT THE HELL IS THIS

Guards: WE’RE COMING

*They arrest Fieramosca.*

Balducci: KEEP A GOOD GRIP ON HIM

People: THEY GOT HIM

Balducci: TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: HAHAHAHA THEY GOT FIERAMOSCA THAT’S EXCELLENT

Fieramosca: BUT I’M NOT—

People: TAKE HIM AWAY

Fieramosca: YOU’RE MISTAKING ME FOR SOMEONE ELSE

Guards and People: LET’S TAKE CARE OF THIS MURDERER

Fieramosca: BUT MY NAME IS FIERAMOSCA

Guards: LET’S GO OFF TO PRISON

Balducci: SERIOUSLY TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Several People, One At A Time, Around the Square: THEY CAUGHT HIM

Fieramosca: I SWEAR TO GOD I’M FIERAMOSCA

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, and Some People: YOU MURDERER WE’LL HAVE YOU HANGED RIGHT AWAY YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Balducci, Bernardino, and Other People: WHY WOULD YOU MURDER A CAPUCHIN ON THE EVE OF ASH WEDNESDAY WE’LL HAVE YOU HANGED RIGHT AWAY YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Fieramosca: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ALL WANT TO THROW ME IN PRISON AND HANG ME LISTEN TO ME I DIDN’T MURDER ANYONE I AM A GOOD CITIZEN OF ROME AND MY NAME IS FIERAMOSCA

Everyone: OH GOD I’M SUFFOCATING GIVE ME SOME ROOM LET ME OUT OF HERE WE’LL NEVER MAKE IT OUT OF HERE

Balducci: I CAN’T FIND MY DAUGHTER TERESA

Teresa and Ascanio: C’MON LET’S GO WE NEED TO STICK TOGETHER

Fieramosca: OH GOD I’M SUFFOCATING DON’T STRANGLE ME

Everyone: OH GOD YOU’RE CRUSHING ME THIS IS A LIVING HELL ON EARTH AND ALSO COMPLETE AND UTTER CHAOS AND WE’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET OUT

*Teresa and Ascanio run off. Fieramosca is led off by the guards. In a panic, everyone else tries to push their way out of the square.*

Notes

Also, a collection of several artistic portrayals of the Piazza Colonna and Carnival in Rome!

Act II:

Scene 1:

Early morning, Ash Wednesday. Cellini’s workshop. Various creations of Cellini’s are scattered around. On the right is a plaster model of the Perseus statue. At the back is a door, with one window on each side. The windows look out onto the street.

*Teresa and Ascanio run in. Teresa starts looking out one of the windows while Ascanio closes the door.*

Teresa: Oh God, what’s happened to Cellini? Where could he be?

Ascanio: He’ll be here soon, Teresa. Don’t worry about it.

Teresa: NO I SWEAR HE’S BEEN CAUGHT OR HE’S DEAD

Ascanio: No, he’s alright, listen to me; he’s not the kind of guy who could get caught by the Pope’s men or the law.

Teresa: But why hasn’t he made it here yet?

*A group of White Friars (a Carmelite order of monks) starts to pass by.*

White Friars: Vas spirituale, Maria, sancta mater, ora pro nobis…

*For the sake of concision, the White Friars continue chanting intermittently in much the same vein for the next few minutes.* **

Ascanio: Listen!

*He runs over to a window and looks out.*

Teresa: Is it him?

*Ascanio comes back.*

Ascanio: Unfortunately, no. That song is just a group of monks passing by and chanting prayers as they go off to their holy works.

Teresa: This hurts too much!

Ascanio: Take heart.

Teresa: We must pray!

Teresa and Ascanio: Alright, then.

*They kneel.*

Holy Virgin, star of the morning, smile and shed some light on us...

*The White Friars pass by the door at this point; their voices gradually fade as they move away.*

Holy Virgin, star of the morning, have mercy and bring Cellini safely back to us!

*Cellini, still dressed in his white habit (which is now covered in blood) runs in.*

Cellini: HEY I’M HERE

Teresa and Ascanio: CELLINI THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE HERE

*They run over to him.*

Teresa: You aren’t wounded, are you?

Cellini: No, thank God, but I did get a bit frazzled along the way.

Ascanio: You? Frazzled?

Cellini: It took all my luck to get out of all that craziness and certain arrest.

Teresa and Ascanio: What happened?

Cellini: Okay, here goes, I bet you’ve never heard anything like this:

SO it was really dark and I had my dagger and I was running through this huge crowd and I got out and I kept running because there was this huge mob chasing after me and yelling for my blood because yeah of course they were and I was still wearing this habit—

Ascanio: Couldn’t you have just taken it off?

Cellini: DON’T INTERRUPT MY STORY anyway just in the nick of time I saw a building with the door open and I hid behind the door and they still kept running because they didn’t see me so I closed the door and then I thought about Teresa and blessed my patron saint and then I felt really weak and the ground started shaking under me and then I fainted

Teresa: OOH WHAT HAPPENED NEXT I’M REALLY SCARED BUT ALSO VERY INTRIGUED

Ascanio: ...I’m not buying it also how come SHE gets to interrupt your story

Cellini: Ascanio, I think very highly of you but you’re not my girlfriend ANYWAY I woke up a while later and it was dawn and the rooftops were covered in beautiful light and the roosters were crowing and people were walking around everywhere and I had no idea how I was going to get home but a bunch of friars dressed like me happened to pass by so I slipped in and they happened to pass by here so I slipped out AND NOW I’M HERE AND SO ARE YOU ***

Teresa: And may God never separate us again!

Ascanio: Uh, guys, I hate to break it to you but one of you is still wanted for murder and the other’s dad is probably looking for us as we speak so we’re not out of danger yet.

Cellini: You’re right. We have to go NOW.

Teresa: We have to go? We should just try hiding out—

Cellini: No, we have to go NOW.

Ascanio: BUT YOU STILL HAVE A STATUE TO FINISH

Cellini: TO HELL WITH MY STATUE AND THE POPE AND THE LAW WE JUST NEED TO RUN AWAY TO FLORENCE ASCANIO GO GET US A HORSE

Ascanio: Very well. You can count on me and I’ll be back here as soon as I can.

*He leaves.*

Teresa: My love, God is on our side! After everything, we’re here together, which is the proof that God has blessed us...

Cellini: Yes! Let’s enjoy this moment, our love, the brief moment of peace we have now before we have to flee…

Teresa: YESTERDAY WAS PLAIN AWFUL

Cellini: You can say that again.

Teresa: YESTERDAY WAS PLAIN AWFUL

Cellini: BUT THAT’S NOT NOW THAT’S THEN

Teresa: You’re right; it’s a new day that’ll dry our tears…

Cellini: Even though the future may be dark…

Teresa: ...we have peace and love and happiness!

Cellini: Let’s live and let death come when it will!

Teresa: But first take off the habit. You can’t be seen in it.

*Cellini takes off his habit and puts it on a chair.*

Cellini: There we go. Time is running out, but first...how about a mock swordfight?

Teresa: I AM SO DOWN CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON

*They start mock-swordfighting.*

Cellini: Ah, brava! What bravery, my squire!

Teresa: Put on your breastplate!

*The fight comes to an end.*

Cellini and Teresa: GOD HAS BLESSED US SO WE’LL BE OKAY NO MATTER WHAT BECAUSE HE HAS BLESSED ALL OUR WISHES ****

You know, when eagles in the mountains hear their friends being captured, what do they do? They stick together and help each other out and yell their war cries and help each other escape! And they fly far away despite everything, even being shot at! LET’S DO THE SAME THING AND RUN AWAY TO FLORENCE WE’LL BRAVE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE EVEN THE VATICAN LET’S GO

*Ascanio runs in, in a state of panic.*

Ascanio: HEY SIR DEAR SIR WE HAVE A BIT OF A PROBLEM

Cellini: What is it?

Ascanio: BALDUCCI AND FIERAMOSCA ARE HERE I JUST SAW THEM THROUGH THE WINDOW

Teresa: OH SHOOT IT’S MY DAD

Cellini: Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of this.

*He helps Teresa hide behind the model of Perseus.*

Ascanio: THERE THEY ARE

*Balducci and Fieramosca enter. Fieramosca sees Cellini and immediately starts backing towards the door, but Balducci goes to confront Cellini with his cane.*

Balducci: AT LAST I HAVE FOUND YOU, YOU MURDERER AND SEDUCER AND BRIGAND AND AT THIS POINT I’M JUST GOING TO CALL YOU EVERY NOT-NICE THING IN THE BOOK BECAUSE I’M JUST FED UP WITH AND SEVERELY PO’D AT YOU

Cellini: Oh excuse me, Mr. Giacomo, I didn’t realize that you could just show up at my house and start making such a ruckus. What’s gotten into you?

Balducci: YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS ABOUT GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER I KNOW SHE’S HERE SO GIVE HER BACK OR ELSE I WILL BEAT YOU UP WITH THI—

Cellini: DON’T EVEN THI—

*Teresa runs out and falls on her knees before her father.*

Teresa: DAD I’M SORRY NOW I’M KNEELING BEFORE YOU

Balducci: ahhhhhhhhhhh THERE you are so let me get this straight: you honor your beloved mother by running away from me and planning to escape with, of all things, A KNOWN MURDERER wow who would’ve thought that you, of all people, could be such a horrible person?

Teresa: DAD JUST LISTEN TO ME

Cellini: Your daughter would NEVER—

Teresa: YEAH DAD I WOULD NEVER

Cellini: I’ll say it: I’m the only guilty party here.

Balducci: That’s a load of BS coming from you; I know what I know about you…

Cellini: Which is…?

Balducci: uh...NEVER MIND ANYWAY TERESA GO HOME

*Cellini steps in between Balducci and Teresa.*

Cellini: STOP I LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER

Balducci: WHAT DOES THAT MATTER

Cellini: AND SHE LOVES ME

Balducci: WELL TOO BAD SO SAD

Cellini: THIS IS THE FASTEST WAY TO RUIN YOUR FAMILY’S HONOR

Balducci: THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE ALSO YOU TWO ARE BREAKING UP EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

Cellini: THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS

Teresa: DAD STOP IT

Balducci: TERESA WE ARE LEAVING

Teresa: CELLINI HELP ME OUT HERE

Cellini: DON’T WORRY TERESA I GOT YOU

Balducci: Fieramosca, come claim your wife!

Everyone Else [yes, including Fieramosca]: wait WHAT

*Fieramosca timidly goes over to Teresa.*

Fieramosca: uhhhhh so I guess this is a thing now so uhhhhhh let’s leave

Cellini: You thief, if you so much as TOUCH HER I WILL

Balducci: FIERAMOSCA TAKE HER OUT OF HERE

Fieramosca: *backing away* Me? But I don’t want to cause even more of a scene…

Cellini: IF YOU SO MUCH AS MOVE TOWARDS HER FIERAMOSCA I WILL SEND YOU TO HELL

Balducci: FIERAMOSCA DO SOMETHING

Fieramosca: BUT I DON’T WANNA CAUSE A SCENE

Ascanio: Some son-in-law!

Teresa: OH MY GOD CAN EVERYONE CALM DOWN FOR FIVE SECONDS 

*A disturbance from outside causes everyone to stop arguing and look up, only to see an unexpected development.*

Everyone: OH SHOOT IT’S THE POPE hey everyone we need to stop fighting and shut up and show some respect omg the Pope is here

*They all promptly shut up and kneel as Pope Clément VII (who will hereafter be referred to as ‘The Pope’ on the understanding that he is not the current Pope in The Real World™), dressed in traveling costume, enters with his retinue.*

The Pope: My children, full indulgence for all your sins! Rise; I don’t want to feel so aloof because I feel like you are all my children, and mercy is the dearest value to our hearts! Rise, my children! A full indulgence for all your sins! Rise!

Balducci and Fieramosca: Uh, Your Holiness, we very humbly give you our request: avenge us!

The Pope: Avenge you? For what? Oh, and for crying out loud, I’ve already asked you like...six times to rise and you’re still down there on the floor.

*Everyone gets up.*

Balducci: A GUY ABDUCTED MY DAUGHTER AND DISHONORED MY GOOD NAME

Fieramosca: AND THE SAME GUY KILLED MY SIDEKICK BUDDY WITH WHOM I DEFINITELY DID NOT HAVE A HOMOEROTIC RELATIONSHIP

The Pope: Who did all this?

Balducci and Fieramosca: CELLINI

Balducci: *gesturing to Teresa* THERE’S MY DAUGHTER

Fieramosca: *holding Cellini’s discarded bloodstained habit* AND THERE’S THE BLOOD HE SHED

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: NO CELLINI ISN’T GUILTY

Balducci: Cellini, one, you literally said you were the only guilty one here like five minutes ago; two, I absolutely hate it when people refer to themselves in the third person.

Cellini: THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE NO FUN BALDUCCI

The Pope: A murder and an abduction? Cellini, you did all that? Really? Are you kidding me right now? Are you always going to play the little devil?

Cellini: No. Please, just hear me out for a moment.

The Pope: First, how’s the statue coming?

Cellini: Oh, right. The statue. The statue for you. The statue especially made for you. Your statue. That statue?

The Pope: YES, that statue.

Cellini: Uh...I don’t got you covered. *****

The Pope: What?

Cellini: ...It’s not done yet.

The Pope: Wait a sec...after all this time I’ve given you, and after your promise to have it done today, IT’S STILL NOT FINISHED?!

Everyone: It still hasn’t been cast!

The Pope: So you used my advance money to break a father’s heart and murder a man in the middle of Carnival and then spent the rest drinking? Seriously?

Balducci and Fieramosca: YEAH HE DID

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: NO HE DIDN’T

Balducci and Fieramosca: SHUT UP

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: YOU SHUT UP

The Pope: EVERYONE SHUT UP

Very well, then, you leave me no choice: another will cast the statue.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: ANOTHER?!

Cellini: Another cast my statue? EXCUSE ME WHAT DID YOU SAY OH WAIT I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID AND IT IS NOT HAPPENING ON MY WATCH

I WOULD SOONER DESTROY MY OWN MODEL THAN ALLOW SOMEONE ELSE TO—

Everyone Else: What is he DOING?!?!

Fieramosca and Balducci: HOW DARE YOU?!?! ARE YOU NOT IN THE PRESENCE OF THE POPE?!?!?!?!

Cellini: Yes! May the Virgin forgive me, and the Pope, and my patron saint, but NO ONE ELSE, NOT EVEN MICHELANGELO HIMSELF WILL CAST THIS STATUE BECAUSE I’D RATHER DIE THAN THAT HAPPEN

The Pope: Fine, let’s test that out. Guards! Arrest Cellini immediately.

*The guards come forward but at the same time, Cellini picks up a large hammer and runs over to the model of the statue.*

Cellini: I will whack this model into tiny, unrecognizable bits before a single one of your guards lays a hand on me.

*He raises the hammer to smash the model, but everyone screams.*

The Pope: STOP oh for holy God’s sake

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: He defied the Pope to his face! What has he done?

The Pope: FINE you demon, what do you need to calm down? Honestly, at this point, I mostly just want to see my future display piece not get hacked to bits.

*Cellini moves in front of the model, lowering his hammer but still holding it.*

Cellini: Full forgiveness for all my sins.

The Pope: Very well; you will have it without confession.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Without even confession!

The Pope: I have said it; it will be done.

Cellini: That’s not all. I want Teresa’s hand in marriage.

The Pope: Let me get this straight: you want forgiveness and Teresa?

Fieramosca and Balducci: HOLY FATHER STOP RIGHT THERE

Cellini: Oh, and one more thing: I want the time to cast my statue.

The Pope: You want forgiveness, Teresa, and the time to cast the statue? Please tell me there’s nothing else.

Cellini: That is all.

Everyone Else: That’s all!

The Pope: ah DANG IT the devil knows how much I love art and he’s laughing at me but next thing you know I’ll be laughing at him

Balducci and Fieramosca: he knows how much the Pope loves art but it’ll be our turn to laugh

Teresa: Dear God, have mercy on him!

Ascanio: HAHAHA THIS IS THE BEST TRICK EVER

Cellini: I’VE GOT HIM IN A CORNER BECAUSE I KNOW HIS LOVE FOR ART

The Pope: How much time do you need to cast the statue?

Cellini: The rest of the day, God willing.

The Pope: ...Are you sure that’ll be enough time?

Cellini: I think so: the furnace has been heating up the metal for a while now.

The Pope: *signaling to the guards to move away* Very well, I agree to your conditions.

*Cellini puts down the hammer and goes over to the Pope.*

But listen to me very carefully, you rogue: I myself will be at the workshop tonight to see if you are able to complete the statue. If not, by God, I will hand you over to the legal authorities and you will be hanged tonight.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Hanged!

The Pope: I think I’ve made myself clear.

Balducci: But...but Holy Father, he can finish the statue by the end of the day, and Teresa—

The Pope: To Hell with you and Teresa! He’ll be hanged if he doesn’t finish.

Fieramosca: But...but Holy Father, he can finish the statue by the end of the day, and Pompeo—

The Pope: ugh you people to Hell with you and Pompeo! He’ll be hanged if he doesn’t finish. Cellini, I trust I’ve made myself clear?

Cellini: ...Crystal.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Hanged! If he doesn’t finish today, he’ll be hanged!

Cellini: *ironically* Ah, Holy Father, how kind to offer such an indulgence for my sins—the threat of hanging!

The Pope: Yes, you will hang!

Now he’ll feel less proud because I myself will punish him because no saint or angel in all of Heaven will help him; he has sealed his own fate!

Cellini: GOD WILL HELP ME AND I WILL SUCCEED BECAUSE I FEEL THE POWER AND SOMEONE ONCE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT FORTUNE FAVORING THE BOLD WELL IT’S NOT JUST FORTUNE IT’S ALSO GOD SO NO ONE’S PETTY VENGEANCE CAN STOP ME

Teresa: NOOOOOOOOOOO HE’S GONNA DIE BECAUSE EVERYONE’S WORKING AGAINST HIM EVEN GOD AND THERE’S NO HOPE AND I FEEL LIKE MY ONLY OPTION IS DEATH

Ascanio: LET THEM INSULT HIM WHAT DOES HE CARE GOD WILL HELP HIM BECAUSE HE IS BOLD SO I HAVE HOPE AND NO ONE’S PETTY VENGEANCE CAN STOP HIM

Fieramosca and Balducci: AT LAST HE IS COMING TO HIS DESERVED RUIN AND WE WILL HAVE OUR VENGEANCE

*The Pope’s retinue moves towards the Pope as if to protect him, but he signals them to stop.*

The Pope’s Retinue: WHAT AN INDULGENCE HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN PUNISHED ALREADY AND HE DOESN’T DESERVE THIS CHANCE

*Everyone leaves.*

Notes

Scene 2: **

Cellini’s foundry. The furnace is at the back; there is one door each at right and left. Some of Cellini’s other works are there. A clock strikes 4 PM.

*Ascanio runs in.*

Ascanio: Tralalalalalalalalalala…

What’s the matter with me? I just feel so overwhelmed and weary with all this drama right now but TOO BAD  because when I feel sad I just laugh and sing tralalala and then suddenly I feel dizzy and happy again!

So our bronze baby is getting its baptism of fire tonight: the Colosseum will be the church, the Pope will be the godfather, and all the people of Rome will be the witnesses! Tralalala honestly thinking about that overwhelms me even more but you know what? It’s okay; I’ll just laugh and sing tralalalala…

*Quick note: during this next part, Ascanio imitates both Cellini and the Pope.*

HAHAHA THAT WHOLE THING WITH CELLINI AND THE POPE WAS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER BECAUSE THE POPE WAS LIKE ‘Take the man away!’ and Cellini was like ‘NOT SO FAST I’LL DESTROY THIS MODEL FIRST’ and the Pope was like ‘fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine I give in because I guess I’m a total pushover’ and Cellini was like ‘I want forgiveness for all my sins’ and the Pope was like ‘sure whatever’ and then Cellini was like ‘I ALSO want Teresa’ and the Pope was like ‘yeah cool okay’ and THEN Cellini was like ‘and I want the rest of the day to cast the statue!’ and the Pope was like ‘sounds good’ and THEN SUDDENLY THE POPE GRABBED MY MASTER’S HEAD and he said he would HANG HIM if he didn’t finish the statue by the end of the day! Is that all? Oh, you’ll hang! You understand? Ah, Holy Father, what an indulgence!

great THAT overwhelmed me too and I feel sad again but I’ll just do what I always do and just laugh and sing tralalalala and everything will be okay! ***

*Cellini enters and signals Ascanio to leave, which he does.*

Cellini: Alone, just me, my courage, and my audacity, about to have the fight of my life—and all Rome is watching! Very well, then; let the winds bring the storm, let them rile up all the waves, and let me sail straight into it! This is the story of my life...what a life!

Why could I not be a simple shepherd, leading my sheep and wandering through the wildness of the mountains? Free, alone, at peace, with no need to do any useless work for anyone else...I would wander far from all these busy cities and I would sing to my heart’s content...and at night I would sleep on the ground in a little hut, but I would sleep so peacefully, it would be like sleeping in my mother’s arms as a baby! Ah, what a dream! What a life!

Metalworkers: *singing outside* How happy the sailors, those children of the waves, are…

Cellini: ugggggggggggggggh not that song AGAIN

Metalworkers: ...they happily follow the wind wherever it blows…

Cellini: something bad ALWAYS happens whenever they sing that stupid song

Metalworkers: ...and when the boat sinks, the ocean is their tomb…

*Ascanio comes back.*

Ascanio: That sad song is bad luck!

Cellini: If they lose heart, we’ll fail!

*calling out to the workers* We are sailors who sail on metal! To rule the waves is easy; the real triumph is to rule over fire as we do!

Cellini and Ascanio: TAKE HEART AND HAVE COURAGE IF WE CAN JUST HOLD ON FOR ONE MORE DAY WE’LL ALL CELEBRATE TOMORROW

Chorus: *even more sadly than before* How happy the sailors, those children of the waves, are…

Cellini: *putting on an apron* Alright, let’s go to work, no more dilly-dallying!

*Loud knocking on the door.*

WHO IS IT

*Ascanio runs to the door and opens it, then hurries back.*

Ascanio: IT’S FIERAMOSCA

*Fieramosca enters with two swordsmen.*

Cellini: uggggggggggh not him hi, what do you want?

Fieramosca: Cellini, I have come to send you to Hell.

Cellini: ‘nyah nyah nyah Cellini I have come to send you to Hell nyah nyah nyah’ what do you MEAN you BUFFOON

Fieramosca: okay fine, I’ll say it differently so your tiny little brain will understand: I demand satisfaction for your insults.

Cellini: You’re joking, right?

Fieramosca: Uh, no.

Ascanio: Oh, really?

Fieramosca: NO I’M NOT JOKING I DEMAND SATISFACTION NOW

Cellini: BUT I CAN’T LEAVE

Fieramosca: So you do not accept the challenge, you coward?

Cellini: Pot calling kettle black, I see.

Fieramosca: You don’t accept?

Cellini: FINE WE FIGHT HERE

Fieramosca: No! If I kill you in your house, even if we are legitimately dueling, I’m an assassin. That’s the law. We fight elsewhere.

Cellini: OH I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO NOT BE ABLE TO FINISH but, God willing, I’ll teach you a fine lesson about messing with the wrong guy, which you SHOULD HAVE LEARNED last night but I guess you did not. Your desired location?

Fieramosca: I will be waiting for you behind St. Andrew’s cloister.

Cellini: Very well. I will be there. 

Fieramosca: And I’ll send you to Hell.

*He leaves with his swordsmen.*

Cellini: This couldn’t have been timed worse. Ascanio, go get my sword.

*He does so, and the door opens again.*

 godDAMMIT Fieramosca why are you alrea—

*He realizes that the person who has come in is not Fieramosca but Teresa.*

Teresa! Good God! TERESA!!!

Teresa: MY DAD HAS BETRAYED US

Cellini: what NOW

Teresa: So you know how the Pope said that no one from either Tuscany or Rome could marry me until the end of the day? ****

Cellini: ...I somehow did not hear about that?

Teresa: well that’s a thing ANYWAY even though the Pope himself made that order, my dad was like ‘screw this’ and was packing to take me away from Rome, but I slipped out and ran here as fast as I could to see you!

*Ascanio returns and gives Cellini his sword.*

What are you doing with that?

Cellini: Honey, I’ll be back soon.

Teresa: NO STAY HERE YOU’RE GONNA GET INTO A FIGHT

Cellini: ...that’s kinda the point?

Teresa: I’M NOT LETTING YOU GO

Cellini: TERESA IT’S OKAY I’M GONNA SEND YOUR FIANCÉ TO HELL

Teresa: wait WHAT

Cellini: Fieramosca came here and insulted me and challenged me to a duel.

Teresa: IT’LL BE A TRAP (knowing him and also because this is how every duel in the history of French opera turns out)

Cellini: Calm down, it’ll be fine.

Teresa: NO IT WON’T

Cellini: Look: your fiancé isn’t anything near a Hercules; he’s a buffoon with an extremely inflated ego and I’m gonna teach him a lesson he will never forget.

*He leaves with Ascanio.*

Teresa: seriously NO ONE listens to me around here and now I’m here all alone

Metalworkers: *offstage* CELLINI WHERE ARE YOU WHY DID YOU LEAVE

Teresa: What’s going on?

Metalworkers: LET’S GO

Teresa: If he doesn’t come back, I’m done for…

*Francesco, Bernardino, and the other metalworkers leave their work behind and come onstage.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: LET’S GO WE’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS

Teresa: What is happening???

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: EVEN THOUGH WE AIN’T GOT HATS OR BADGES WE’RE A UNION JUST BY SAYING SO AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW

Teresa: WHAT ARE YOU DOING

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE’RE ALL LEAVING

Teresa: BUT WHAT ABOUT CELLINI

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: HE MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON’T OWN US WE’VE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG AND WE’VE PAID OUR DUES

Teresa: Look, he’ll be back soon—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE BEEN KEEPING SCORE EITHER HE GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES HIM A WAR

Teresa: Please, go back to work, he’ll pay you tomorrow—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: SO HE GAVE HIS WORD? WELL IT AIN’T WORTH BEANS NOW HE’S GONNA SEE WHAT ‘STOP THE FURNACES’ REALLY MEANS

Teresa: He’ll pay you very well—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: BUT WE NEED MONEY TO LIVE

Teresa: (Holy Virgin, don’t abandon us now!) I’M NOT LEAVING YOU 

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: LET’S LEAVE

Teresa: PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU

*Fieramosca enters and Teresa sees him.*

OH GOD CELLINI’S DEAD

*She faints. Francesco and Bernardino help her up and support her.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: wait WHAT

Fieramosca: What...what is the meaning of this?!

Teresa: *reviving and pointing to Fieramosca* Good workers...that man has killed your master...avenge him!

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: he WHAT OH HE KILLED CELLINI HE WILL PAY FOR THIS LET’S KILL HIM

*They start attacking Fieramosca.*

Fieramosca: NO NO STOP IT I AM YOUR FRIEND

*Gold coins fall out of his pockets; the workers see them.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: Dude, why do you have so much money on you? Not that we care, but you could get robbed.

Fieramosca: I was just coming to give you a better salary than you get here…

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: A BETTER SALARY WOULD BE NICE BUT NOT FROM YOU BECAUSE YOU KILLED CELLINI SO WHAT SHOULD WE DO ABOUT THIS OH WE KNOW LET’S THROW YOU INTO THE FURNACE

Fieramosca: WAIT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M YOUR FRIEND

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: THROW HIM INTO THE FURNACE

*Chaos ensues. Suddenly, from nearby:*

Cellini: HEY WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE

*Cellini and Ascanio enter.*

Teresa, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: OMG YOU’RE ACTUALLY ALIVE

Cellini: Indeed I am! Why wouldn’t I be?

*Teresa rushes over to Cellini and embraces him.*

Teresa: THANK GOD YOU’RE OKAY

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE ALL THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD AND THAT FIERAMOSCA KILLED YOU

Cellini: Well then, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

*He goes over to Fieramosca, who is sweating and panting like an ox.*

What were you doing here while I was waiting for you behind St. Andrew’s cloister?

Fieramosca: I was coming...I’m coming…

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: YEAH HE WAS COMING ALRIGHT HE WAS COMING TO TRY TO HIRE ALL OF US

Cellini: Let me get this straight: you were trying to bribe my entire workshop?

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: YEAH HE WAS

Cellini: watch out because I’m about to get VERY ANGRY IF YOU DIDN’T ALREADY GET THE HINT

Fieramosca: I was coming...I’m coming…

Cellini: You’ve come—to work!

Everyone Else: wait WHAT

Cellini: YES HE WILL WORK GET AN APRON ON HIM AND MAKE SURE HE TAKES HIS PLACE IN THE WORKSHOP AND DOESN’T TRY TO SABOTAGE ANYTHING OR BY GOD—

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: THIS IS THE BEST IDEA EVER C’MON FIERAMOSCA GET TO WORK OR CELLINI WILL MAKE YOU TAKE A VERY UNPLEASANT BATH IN A BUNCH OF MELTED BRONZE

Fieramosca: ugh not this AGAIN very well I’ll go to work

*He puts on an apron.*

Cellini, Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: Alright, everyone, it’s time to go back to work and finish everything up!

Fieramosca: I’ve already taken one very unpleasant bath this week and I don’t want another so let’s go to work

Ascanio: THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

*Everyone goes to work except Teresa and Ascanio.*

*****Teresa: I feel much better about this now, but the sky is getting dark…

Ascanio: Have courage! Before long, we’ll be through the storm and into a safe port and everything will be okay.

*He goes to join Cellini and the others. The Pope enters with his retinue and Balducci.*

Balducci: TERESA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

The Pope: Be quiet!

*Teresa kneels before the Pope.*

Teresa: Holy Father, forgive me!

The Pope: Rise, my child. Tell me: how did you get here?

Balducci: EXCUSE ME—

The Pope: IN THE NAME OF GOD SHUT UP 

Teresa: Well, my father wanted to take me away from Rome so I couldn’t marry Cellini, but I thought you would be forgiving, so I came here and joined Cellini in order to wait for you and the casting and hopefully my marriage to Cellini!

The Pope: oh Dio mio you really should honor your father, BUT your father failed entirely and very much dropped the ball in actively trying to go against my orders, so I forgive you.

Now, tell me, where is the man of the hour?

Teresa: There he is now!*****

*Cellini enters and acknowledges the Pope.*

The Pope: Well, have you finished?

Cellini: Not quite yet, Your Holiness, but everything is on track to be done soon, thank God; the metal is heating up right now and all that needs to happen is that the metal melt and flow into the mold, the very bowels of the earth, and become holy at your signal!

Balducci: The braggart!

The Pope: He’s faking his cheerfulness and honestly, it really annoys me, but we must wait and see how this goes. Very well: begin.

*Cellini signals the workers to begin. They work for a while to some of the slappiest orchestral music ever written in opera, until Fieramosca leaves his work and runs up to Cellini.* ******

Fieramosca: WE NEED MORE METAL OR ELSE WE’LL STOP WORKING

Cellini: What are you saying?

Fieramosca: WE NEED MORE METAL OR ELSE WE’LL STOP WORKING

Cellini: Let me check this out myself. If you’re lying, you’re in big trouble. If you’re telling the truth, I’m in big trouble…

*He runs to check on the work, leaving a very embarrassed Fieramosca behind.*

Balducci: Fieramosca?! Is that you?!

Fieramosca: ...Yeah.

Balducci: What are you wearing that for?

Fieramosca: Well, uh, it’s a long story…

Balducci: And your face is covered in soot! Really, I don’t understand you at all sometimes.

Fieramosca: Uh, well...shouldn’t even rival artists help one another every now and then?

*Cellini returns.*

Cellini: WE’RE DOING FINE FIERAMOSCA GET BACK TO WORK

*He gestures threateningly at Fieramosca, who immediately backs down and returns to the furnace, followed by Cellini.*

Teresa and Ascanio: He looks so pale! Dear God, don’t abandon him now!

Balducci and the Pope: He looks so pale! He’s getting nervous; he might be in trouble!

*Cellini returns, flustered.*

Cellini: Excuse me, but I really need to be back there supervising the casting. We’re getting pretty close now; we just added more metal to the furnace. Everything is being melted and it is all going very well.

*He goes back to supervise. Exactly fourteen seconds later, Francesco and Bernardino get his attention with a very unwelcome twist.*

Francesco and Bernardino: CELLINI THE METAL IS CONGEALING *******

Everyone Else: wait WHAT

Francesco and Bernardino: WE DON’T KNOW HOW IT’S HAPPENING BUT THE METAL IS CONGEALING

Everyone Else: THAT’S ACTUALLY REALLY BAD

Francesco and Bernardino: WE NEED MORE METAL

Cellini: But there should be more back there. Has it all been used?

Francesco and Bernardino: WE DON’T HAVE ANY MORE METAL WE NEED METAL NOW

Cellini: BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY MORE METAL

Everyone Else: you don’t have WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

Cellini: I’M DONE FOR

Everyone Else: HE’S DONE FOR

The Pope: Well, that’s the one thing that can make him dumbfounded.

Balducci: FINALLY HE’LL BE HANGED

Everyone: oh sh—oh shoot he’s done for

Balducci: *ironically* Oh, you, such a genius as you are, are tortured by just a simple little nothing? You know everything, your skill is infinite! Turn that little frown upside-down!

Cellini: you’re not helping and I would say some choice words to you but we’re both in the presence of the Pope and that is the only thing restraining me at the moment

Francesco, Bernardino, and The Workers: WE NEED METAL NOW

Francesco: WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME THE FIRE’S GOING OUT

Cellini: Wait! What...what should I do?

Francesco, Bernardino, and The Workers: WE JUST NEED METAL MORE METAL MORE METAL

Cellini: DEAR GOD YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE LEFT SO PLEASE HELP ME OUT HERE BECAUSE I’M SO CLOSE TO GIVING IN TO DESPAIR AND I’M REALLY TRYING MY BEST DOWN HERE

Balducci: Um, not to spoil the mood or anything, but perhaps you should wait to chat with God until after we find out what happens with this statue?

Cellini: that doesn’t even make sense

Balducci: I mean you can give thanks then on the extreme off-chance that you actually pull this off.

Cellini: I’M SAVED GOD IS HELPING ME BECAUSE I JUST GOT AN IDEA

WORKERS GRAB EVERYTHING METAL YOU CAN FIND TAKE EVERYTHING FROM THE WORKSHOP AND THROW IT IN THE FURNACE

Francesco and Bernardino: WHAT YOU WANT US TO GET YOUR OTHER ARTWORKS AND THROW THEM IN THERE?!?!?!?!

Cellini: I DON’T CARE JUST GRAB ANYTHING METAL YOU CAN FIND INCLUDING MY ARTWORKS AND THROW IT IN NO MATTER WHAT METAL IT’S MADE OF IF IT’S METAL GRAB IT

*Ascanio grabs a candelabra and throws it in. Cellini does the same with every metal object he can find. Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and some of the other workers start bringing in some of Cellini’s metal sculptures and passing them to other workers so they can be thrown into the furnace.*

Teresa: IT’S ALMOST TOO MUCH TO BEAR I HOPE HE MAKES IT IN THE END

The Pope: HE HAS SUCH BOLDNESS WILL HE MAKE IT IN THE END

Balducci: HE’S GOING MAD AND HE’S RUINING HIMSELF FOR A HOPELESS CAUSE

*The metal collection continues. The workers keep melting the objects and sculptures in the furnace. Suddenly there is a large explosion and the lid of the crucible mold is blown off.*

Teresa, Balducci, and the Pope: WHAT WAS THAT NOISE WHAT’S GOING ON DID IT HAPPEN OR NO

*Cellini, not daring to look, runs to the front.*

Cellini: IT EXPLODED I’M DONE FOR

Workers: LONG LIVE CELLINI VIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

*Everyone turns to see the molten metal pour into the mold. The casting is successful.*

Everyone: VICTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Fieramosca pushes through the crowd to find Cellini.*

Fieramosca: HEY LEMME THROUGH I WANT TO FIND MY DEAR FRIEND CELLINI AND EMBRACE HIM

Balducci: I KNEW HE COULD DO IT ALL ALONG SO TERESA HERE’S YOUR FUTURE

Cellini: well well well which of these two is the more cowardly suck-up???

Holy Father, I have completed the casting.

The Pope: Well, since God has blessed both your work and your boldness, I will hold up my end of the deal: I officially pardon you, Benvenuto Cellini.

Cellini: Teresa!

Teresa: Cellini!

Francesco, Bernardino, Workers, and Spectators: VIVA CELLINI

Teresa, Fieramosca, and Ascanio: IMMORTAL GLORY TO CELLINI

The Workers: Gold shines like the sun and rubies like fire in the night…

Teresa, Fieramosca, Balducci, Ascanio, Francesco, and Bernardino: GLORY TO HIM

Cellini: ONE LAST ROUND OF OUR SONG

Ascanio, Francesco, and Bernardino: LIKE YOU SAID JUST THE LAST VERSE BECAUSE IT’S THE BEST

Everyone: METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

TRA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA—

HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*General celebration.*

Notes

THE END

Up Next: Così fan tutte

#opera #opera tag #Benvenuto Cellini #Berlioz #Hector Berlioz #Henri Auguste Barbier #Léon de Wailly #Opera Simplified

[tortoisesshells]

Buying Time (2/6, probably, who knows, ~2,800 words, some salty language and more ways to not deal with grief)

Customs and Duties, but make it a modern!fake-dating AU with a severe lack of fake dating and more historical minutiae than any self-respecting modern AU should have; Part the Second, in which neither party has any luck with antique clocks, despite planned and unplanned meetings.

He never did see that coat again. Either someone had taken it, or maybe it had somehow found its way into the water that seemed omnipresent in that place – tidal creeks and ponds, the little river, the sea itself. One of life’s mysteries. There were others, from that day in January, but it was easier to think about the coat he’d lost.

Or why that particular shop: there was a bookstore nearby, and frankly that seemed a better place to finish sobering up before driving on to New York – where he would, in all likelihood, end up maudlin drunk on Andy Gillette’s couch, but at least get the thin satisfaction of someone worrying about him. At any road, he’d looked at the sign for S. J. Treat & E. C. Treat, Antiques – quaint, with a little hour-glass carved next to the names, and found himself inside – where he’d proceeded to make a complete ass of himself before the proprietor, who, contrary to what a sensible person would have done, sat him in a (modern) chair behind the counter and poured coffee from a thermos that might have actually have been an antique, listened to him ramble about Decatur and Barron because he’d been thinking that maybe his ancestors had been onto something, with their elaborate and ritualized pretenses for beating the shit out of each other over “honor” – and, after she was satisfied he was safe to drive, Mrs. Treat made sure he had  his keys, wallet, phone, and a water bottle before wishing him well. 

When he returned to Boston, he penned a note of thanks, knowing that it was wholly inadequate. Then, after his series of stilted emails with Elizabeth over the disposition of the apartment and everything in it, he’d had the idea.

*

Mrs. Treat politely insisted he pick the restaurant , since he was paying, and he insisted that she pick the restaurant, as she knew the area better than him. They probably would have stood there in the square batting courtesies back and forth like a deranged game of shuttlecock, before he made a tentative suggestion – which, contrary to her earlier assertions that she wasn’t picky – Mrs. Treat scoffed at as both too trendy and too loud, and steered them off in the direction of an unassuming shingle-sided tavern he hadn’t looked twice at on his initial and inebriated visit.

“It’ll be reasonably quiet,” she said, “And there’s a decent chance they’ve got the Franklin stove going.”

With that ringing endorsement, she ushered him into the bar, waved to the bartender, and pointed to a table that was, indeed, right next to an ancient woodstove – and sat in the chair closest to it.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Treat said, by way of an apology, “I get cold easily.”

“Not at all,” he replied, looking around the low-ceilinged room. “The decoration is …”

“A little idiosyncratic?”

He nodded.

“It’s what the tourists expect, I think.”

“They expect harpoons?”

“They’re not used,” Mrs. Treat said, with an expression that was very nearly a smile, “You’d be able to tell if they were. There’s a lot to be said about common misconceptions regarding 18th and 19th century maritime activity in this neck of the woods – or the coast, as the case may be – but that’s not what we came here to talk about.”

James privately wondered how you went about telling how a harpoon had been used, but missed his chance to ask: Mrs. Treat briskly arranged the tablet, folders, and notepads on the table, pausing only for the waitress to take their lunch order. Mrs. Treat recommended the scallops, and a local brewery with atrociously punned names, but he noted she only ordered a sandwich for herself. He thought of reminding her that he had asked her to find a clock that might very well cost more than a car and he wasn’t going to begrudge her a pint, but just as quickly scrapped the idea as horrifyingly bad-mannered.  She might not drink, after all. Or hate seafood.

“I’ll start with the bad news: the sum total of it is, I haven’t found your Williams shelf clock.”

“I assumed so.”

“I would get in touch right away if I had, absolutely. But I haven’t.”

Watching her twist her wedding band, he cleared his throat and asked: “Any good news?”

Mrs. Treat stopped her fidgeting and laughed. “The good news is that I can probably teach a specialist course on clock manufacture to 1850? I found more information on the Boston concern that Williams tended to purchase his clock-faces from, the history of brass rolling mills in New England – mostly Connecticut, by the way, none of your Hub nonsense here – though I don’t know for sure if Williams bought from Abel Porter and Co. or imported from England. You said your clock was early 18-teens, which makes trade with Britain a tad unlikely. There’s more information on the mahogany trade in there, as well. Book review for a monograph creatively titled Mahogany, by a Dr. Anderson – I suppose that’s part of the commodities trend where every other book was titled Cod or Pepper or whatever have you – in case you’re interested. Oh, and did you know that Williams once rented shop-room that had previously been occupied by a silversmith named Zenas Fearing?” She pushed a full manila folder across the table to him.

“If you want it,” she said, quickly, “I have all this in scans and pdfs as well, I can just email it to you. But I prefer hard copies.”

He took the folder and leafed through the pages, her annotations in red standing out against the page. “At this rate, Mrs. Treat, I’ll be able to construct it myself.”

“You might consider it. Shelf clocks are more common by the Federal period, but they’re still rare. If you could find a good source for Honduran mahogany you’d be able to make a pretty close replica to an original. Or just 3D print it, I guess.”

She sat back in her chair and swirled the ice around her glass with an apologetic smile. “I want to be clear, Mr. Norrington. I do believe that David Williams likely made multiple clocks of the type you’re describing, and I do believe that several have survived the last two centuries, and will come up for sale if they’re not already – these things can get misidentified. My failure isn’t an indication that it doesn’t exist, only – hmm. I say this as a professional: I appreciate your business and the trust you’ve put in me, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least tell you to consider going through a specialist. I don’t know clocks as well as I do desks and highboys.”

When he said he had consulted a specialist, Mrs. Treat cocked her head, and frowned. “Well. That’s good.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that – she didn’t seem upset or offended, more puzzled than anything. He hadn’t meant it as an insult to her professional abilities; the dealers he had consulted spoke highly of her, tempered by the recent loss of her husband, who had been the founder of the business. Still, she looked at him cautiously – like she suspected something was afoot. “You care a great deal about this clock, I see.”

“One needs goals in life.”

“A lawyer’s answer,” she shot back. “But I understand, I think. And that really is all I have for you – there’s copies of correspondences with a few auction houses about Williams’ clocks – mostly tall clocks that have come up in the last half-century, some research from Newport Historical Society I called in a favor for – mostly about Williams and his contemporaries. Shockingly, most everyone wants to hear about William Claggett, so this is a bit thin – but if you ever get to Newport – the antiques show really is something! – you really should see the Claggett clock in the Redwood Library; it makes the to-do about him and his workshop seem very, very justified. There’s some auction results for the last few times one of his has come up, too. Just for comparison. Close to the back, yellow tab.”

Well. That was a number of zeroes.

“I appreciate your diligence,” he replied, closing the folder and pushing it to the side, to make way for the two plates the waitress was sweeping up with, and was very grateful for it, because he wasn’t sure what else there was for her or him to say. At least Mrs. Treat seemed to think one shouldn’t talk during the first few bites of a meal, efficiently clearing away half of her turkey club before setting the rest aside, and pushing her chips around her plate, which seemed an oblique signal that she’d welcome conversation, or still had something to say.

He didn’t say anything – a lawyer’s habit, maybe, though God knew it’d never helped him outside of the courtroom; or maybe he was still feeling a little foolish for letting the blind grief and very old scotch go to his head that day, and wasn’t entirely sure who Mrs. Treat was, even after doing some due diligence of his own: she seemed personable, dedicated, and honest – too honest for her own good, if she was encouraging him to look elsewhere. The glasses she wore on a chain gave her the air of a librarian, or slightly eccentric aunt – appropriate enough for her occupation. Still, it was rude to be too quiet for too long, and Mrs. Treat really had done an admirable job given the conditions.

“Will you permit a question, Mrs. Treat?”

“Of course.”

“You needn’t have given me all this information – or anything else that you’ve sent along. I would have been satisfied with an email that was some variant on ‘Not yet.’ Why all this?”

“It’s the slow season for me. Almost no foot traffic between the holidays and Memorial Day weekend – a spike around Valentine’s Day and St. Pat’s, because of the road race – but all in all, winter into early spring’s my designated vacation time. I liked the challenge – and I spent a lot of summers in Newport, when I was a teenager.” She paused, before looking at him curiously. “Will you permit a question?”

He nodded.

“I’ve been assuming you’re looking for a Williams clock because there was one passed down in your family – how did your family come to acquire the original? I’ve had to get very good at family genealogies over the years, but I wouldn’t have to have done so to know you’re not from a Newport family.”

“An antecedent married a woman from Newport; it came with her to the marriage.” If there had been an implicit question in why he did not have that original clock, he ignored it – better leave it as some question or quibbling over inheritance. Old families were fairly notorious for that. His cousins still weren’t speaking, even after fifteen years had passed, over the disposition some porringers. God alone knew what Hell would break loose when Grandmother passed away, and left the Burt silver tea service to one her descendants.

“Good provenance,” was all the reply that Mrs. Treat made on that score – all the reply she could make, because her phone began to ring and, apologetically, she checked the ID before blanching. “It’s my daughter’s school – if you’ll – just a moment – I’ll be right back!”

And she was – dashing back to the table looking like she was either about to break something or cry. “I am sorry, Mr. Norrington – I have to cut this short – my daughter’s been in a fight at school – she bit someone, actually – no blood, thank Christ – and, well –”

“I understand,” he said, rising to his feet belatedly, because he felt he ought to.

“Bless you! Do you want the folder with all the copies? Yes? Great. I’ll be in touch in June. Enjoy the spring up in Boston!”

Mrs. Treat rushed out the door, and he sat back down with the folder. If nothing else, it’d be more interesting that his current caseload.

*

In his inbox, not a few hours later, was a painstakingly polite email containing more than one apology and several thanks for understanding as he had:  Just in case (she wrote) I’ve set up a DropBox with all the info in the folder, find it at this link, I am profoundly sorry for my unprofessional behavior, Best Regards, Elinor Treat.

He replied immediately that there really was no need for her apologies: though personally unable to relate to the experience of managing children alone, his sister’s children were enough of a handful, and – came the sobering thought – they hadn’t just lost their father the year before.

Biting, though. He wanted to ask, but that would be rude.

And as May rolled through into June, Theo reminded him that it had been six months, and there was no time like summer to at least try to start dating again. This struck him as profoundly collegiate, and he said so, which led to a completely fruitless argument over whether or not either of them had dated in college, and why or why not, and how that at all had any bearing on the subject at hand – the only thing worse than arguing with a lawyer, he supposed, was being one yourself and doing it anyway. Like being an electrician and still sticking a fork in a wall socket.

He won a one-month moratorium on the topic, but that seemed pretty pyrrhic, all told. Weatherby Swann still couldn’t look him full in the face – and he didn’t anticipate that starting to date again would at all endear him the senior partner turned Gubenatorial hopeful. Or maybe it would? Swann could breathe a sigh of relief that it hadn’t been so serious as it seemed at first – no broken hearts, no resentment. Just two people who weren’t quite meant to make it.

He was out of his office before he knew it, saying something vague about getting lunch to Ned Jarsdel and he’d be back shortly, etc. etc. – and didn’t even notice he had a shadow until Theo Groves jumped into the elevator behind him with an obviously innocent expression.

“Someone’s got to make sure you eat your greens,” Theo said, airily.

“I’m not six years old,” James replied. He said it petulantly enough that it sounded like he was, and his junior snorted. Decades of incredibly expensive education, and that was the best he could do.

“You eat like you are.”

“And you know many first-graders who survive on scotch and bagels?”

“More in the sense of, ‘You can’t be trusted to eat a nutritionally balanced meal on your own account,’” Theo corrected, following him into the noisy lobby, “Honestly, it’s a marvel you haven’t developed scurvy by now.”

James tried to think of concrete proof he’d eaten something with vitamin C in the last week, but came up short, and settled for sniping that Theo had a job and caseload of his own – which, somehow, turned into another bout of unproductive bickering that lasted  up State Street, and James pretended he didn’t notice he was being herded towards Sweetgreen (or however it was spelled). With the vaguest glimmer of self-knowledge, he knew he was bristling from the shame of being seen to be incompetent; it didn’t stop him bristling, but at least he let himself be chivvied along through the crowds and the late-spring sunshine.

This was, of course, the moment he encountered Elinor Treat again.

“Mrs. Treat?”

She was standing on the edge of a group of children, clustered around a tricornered guide at the Old State House – and whirled around at being hailed with a puzzled look, until she spotted him and waved. With a word to another woman, she broke away and jogged over. “Mr. Norrington, hello! Forgive me – I’m here with my daughter’s class – end of year field trip, you know. I hope you’re well?”

Very aware that Theo was suddenly Interested in the proceedings, James was as dry as possible in introducing the two: Theodore Groves, a junior associate; Elinor Treat, antique dealer.

“Allegedly,” she said, with a sort of chagrinned cheerfulness, “I’m afraid I haven’t been very helpful yet.”

“Yet?”

Mrs. Treat looked at him rather than answering Theo’s question outright; he supposed he appreciated her discretion. “She’s investigating a family heirloom for me,” he replied, which was at least partially true.

“An interesting line of work,” said Theo.

“It has its moments. It does put a target on my back for chaperoning these kinds of trips, though – and we’ve still got to make to Charlestown.” She glanced over her shoulder at the school group, anxiously, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got to get back. Responsibilities aside, my daughter’s a firecracker and even the Massacre won’t be enough to keep her occupied long. Goodbye! I’ll be in touch!”

Blessedly, Theo said nothing until after they’d gotten their lunches, and sat out in the sun. “So. She seems nice.”

“You have another two weeks before you’re allowed anything on the topic,” James replied, stabbing at his under-dressed spinach bad-temperedly.

#the self-indulgence continues! #god save me from myself [she says not actually intending to stop or be saved] #buying time #customs and duties aus #customs and duties #fic #my fic

[luninosity]

For @whumptober2020 for today, here’s a newly written chapter from...er...the sequel in progress to one of my original stories that’s still unpublished! I think it mostly stands on its own, so it should read just fine - all you really need to know is that book one involves a magician marrying his king (with kind-of sort-of polyamory, or at least an understanding about what Jamie occasionally does with the Faerie King as part of a willing arrangement about magic, and they all agree to that), after some Drama involving faerie kidnappings and rescues, and this one picks up several years after that happy ending resolution.

Theme No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE - specific prompt: Medieval and theme No 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL - specific prompt: Chronic Pain

#

Jamie stepped out of nothing into a game of football happening on the Great Lawn, under large shaggy trees and the benevolent gaze of the castle’s old stones; the University students had the afternoon off and were taking full advantage of early autumn sun. None of them flinched, being more or less used to the Royal Consort walking out of tree-trunks and unexpected doors and magic; they were young enough to have grown up with a magician living in the castle and in love with their King, and several of them were also old enough to know that the University’d been one of Jamie’s personal projects as Consort. Rilla, the architecture-minded daughter of the farmers he’d once protected from the year of the Great Northern Flood, kicked the ball his way, laughing, an invitation. Jamie blocked it neatly, considered Faerie-related magical-traveling weariness and his second-best pair of boots, shrugged, and ran over.

 Bren would’ve worried. For multiple reasons. But, then, his husband was several years older, was the actual King and thus had at least a small amount more royal dignity, and was built of high-strung nervous protective awareness of the world. Brendan, Jamie had always thought, would’ve fussed over his family no matter the size of it, one other person in a clerk’s small rented room or the entire populace of his kingdom.

 Bren would’ve worried even more at this particular moment. They both knew perfectly well that trips to Faerie were exhausting, draining, entangled with enchantment in multiple ways; Bren knew that Jamie and the Faerie King had what could at best be called a tempestuous relationship, and did not like that either, also for multiple reasons. Jamie did not keep secrets from his husband, whom he loved with every ounce of his heart and soul, if magicians had souls—the Church he’d been raised in suggested that the jury might still be debating this one—and therefore had not kept that secret either.

 He occasionally did not tell Brendan every detail. Like the slow increase of the tug, the pull, the difficulty opening doors home again. It wasn’t exhaustion, not precisely, though it left him weary with loss. It wasn’t pain, not precisely, though it hurt someplace deep inside, and he thought it was getting worse.

 He breathed in bright green grass and familiar autumn, felt the low deep pleased thrum of ground and rocks and tree-roots and human taverns and roadways and rumbling carts and growing turnips; and came over to join the closest University student team when they waved. He wasn’t that much older than they were, as he sometimes found himself reminded by elderly Councilors and annoyed Lords. And he’d always liked football.

 Besides, the game felt very joyful and very messy and very human. An anchor. This plane.

 They’d already picked out goals and haphazard field boundaries; Rilla said, “So, no enchanting anything to move or talk or jump over someone’s head, no matter what rules you might’ve learned up there in Caledon,” but it was lighthearted, poking a Royal Consort who’d arrived years ago as a brand-new foreign ambassador and promptly fallen head over heels for their King. Jamie said, “I’m offended you think my side can’t beat yours fair and square, shouldn’t even need magic for that,” and grinned at her.

 It was a good game, noisy and full of shouting and sunlight and running and jumping around and cheering with delight when someone managed to score; the ball got stuck in a tree once, and narrowly missed a cart belonging to a seller of roasted apples once, and one of the palace cats ran across the field in the background. Jamie did in fact intervene with regard to the apple-cart, a tiny nudge of magic so as not to hit the poor man’s livelihood dead-on.

 He had to pause for a moment, leaning over, hands on knees. Surprisingly winded. He’d come back more wrung out than he’d thought. Too hard, leaving. Too much like tearing himself out of a tapestry, threads ripping in anguish, magic wanting to stay with magic—

 “Jamie!” someone said, from down the field. “I thought Royal Consorts were supposed to be good at maintaining relations with the people! Come have good relations with this ball!”

 Jamie laughed, straightened up, and went. And helped score that goal, with a mild sense of satisfied vengeance.

 His side lost in the end, though only by a point; they stopped as the sun got lower and a few players had assignments to finish for University masters or friends to meet, and they exchanged back-slaps and compliments and happy waves, breaking up the group. Several of them were headed to the nearest tavern, and they beckoned him along; Jamie waved them off and flopped down on the grass, sprawled lazily on his back.

 He was more tired than he’d let on, though it was the tiredness of good exhaustion, of physicality, mostly. Not entirely; but more than the rest.

 The tall calm young man who’d been the captain of the opposing team came over, gazed at the exhausted Royal Consort thoughtfully, went off and got a cup of water from the nearest well and came back. He had dark skin and dark eyes and darker ink-splash freckles across his nose, and he held out the drinking-cup. “All right?”

 “Oh,” Jamie said, sitting up more, “fine, thank you. Brilliant goal, by the way, that last one; you deserved the win. I really am fine; stop looking at me like that.”

 “Right,” Neved said, “that’s just what happens when the older generation plays football—”

 “How old do you think I am?”

 “And also when you jump out of a tree in the middle of the afternoon.” Nev sat down next to him on the grass, unshakably cheerfully watchful.

 “Ah,” Jamie said, and drank half the water. “That. Sorry.”

 “What for? Does it hurt? Going there. Coming back.”

 “Oh…” He looked into the depths of the cup. Thought briefly of color-shifting leaves, of unearthly shimmers in stones and vines. Of the touch of a hand, cool and inhuman, resting on his arm. “No. Not exactly.”

 “You’re sure about that, then,” Neved said, meaningfully.

 “It’s like…” He put the cup down. Used both hands to talk. “Imagine you’ve been mostly blind your whole life. You can see a bit, just enough to get the—the shapes of things. To know colors. But then you go somewhere else, and not only can you see—everything—you can hear and smell and taste and feel it too. Like drinking rainbows, or breathing sapphires, or seeing the notes of a harp in amber and scarlet and wine…” He waved fingers about, not quite sure he’d managed successful illustration. “And then you give it up, over and over, and you come back to that first place, in the dark…”

 It was true, though if he ever put it in those terms to Brendan he’d break his husband’s heart. He wasn’t sure why he’d said it here, under earth-bound sun.

 “So you are hurt.”

 “Culture shock,” Jamie said, leaning back on elbows, letting the scent of grass and the heat of fading sun envelop him. “It’ll fade. You did help, all of you.” And then he had to explain about anchors and the rich raw sensations of earth and laughter and bodies and sweat and human things. Neved listened gravely; Jamie finished, “Bren sometimes talks to me about economics. Nothing is more real than projected income from turnip crop yields, believe me.”

 This got a laugh. “I could tell you about my senior thesis at the University. Ekkarian warrior honor codes, historical, from the fourth century? And how they’re expressed in epic poetry of the time?”

 “Oh,” Jamie said, “absolutely yes, go on,” because he didn’t know much about Ekkarian culture and because he liked seeing people get passionate about pieces of themselves. “Honor codes? Something like our oath of fealty?”

 ***

 Brendan, glancing idly up from financial reports about the proposed cost of the harbor improvements, had peeked out his study window at blue skies and green trees and the stretch of the Great Lawn; he’d known when Jamie had arrived because he’d both felt and seen the presence of his husband stepping back into the world.

 His husband; his magician; his other half: sometimes all those thoughts still made him shiver with delight. Six years into being married, and he still found it hard to believe. The last proper magician anywhere, a secret Jamie’d kept for years. A beautiful young newly appointed ambassador, arriving from Caledon. A young man who’d looked at Brendan’s exhausted discomfort with the endless evening of royal reception protocol, and who’d smiled and cured Bren’s headache with a touch, never mind that it’d potentially expose his power.

 Jamie had fallen in love with him. Jamie wanted him: the anxious skinny unremarkable king of a small mostly unremarkable kingdom, a king who’d inherited too young and consequently got nervous about storms at sea and the ache of loss of both parents, a king who really genuinely did enjoy balancing numbers on a spreadsheet and panicked when asked to make small talk at a banquet. Jamie had married him. How?

 He knew it was more complicated than that. He let his pen slow, and come to rest, over a line about the docks.

 He watched Jamie laugh and get pulled into a game of football with University students, sunshine in auburn hair, tumbling over shortness and gesturing hands. Bren wasn’t sure whether to worry or smile. His people loved his husband—but were Jamie’s shoulders too slumped? Movements less energetic than they should be?

 He knew traveling to Faerie came at a cost. He knew Jamie came back tired, quieter, pensive, even if brighter and more knowledgeable, a paradox.

 He knew it’d been the only way Jamie could’ve ever found a proper teacher, a world of real magic, not the stray bits that slipped into the human realm. He knew Jamie and the Faerie King were—

 They were something. Bren tried not to think about that. He’d made himself mostly accept it: his husband loved him, and he loved Jamie, and he was consequently in some sort of strange three-way relationship with a King in another realm, because Jamie had once been kidnapped as a Faerie Consort and that’d gotten terribly complicated, and Bren wasn’t sure it was love but he also wasn’t sure it wasn’t. Jamie and Oberon understood each other in a way that he, being thoroughly human, never would; Jamie tried not to hold grudges because when magicians did it could be dangerous, and Brendan was allowed to be annoyed about the kidnapping on his behalf.

 He’d met Oberon twice. They’d regarded each other with prickly wariness, both rulers, both understanding that the entire power of Faerie could do terrible things to Bren’s tiny kingdom, and also equally understanding that they both cared for the short sturdy blue-eyed magician who’d folded both arms and leaned a hip against Bren’s desk and said, “How nice, we’re all getting along, shall we talk about establishing cross-realm communications properly, then?”

 He watched Jamie run around the Great Lawn and pause, briefly, to breathe, bending over. Bren’s heart did a little jump; but Jamie straightened up and ran over to help his team score. Bren might’ve cheered, alone in his study. He wouldn’t’ve cared if anyone’d walked in, anyway.

 He did sometimes wonder whether—

 No, he told himself. No. You’re not thinking that. You’re enough, you’re more than enough, he’s said he loves you and you believe him. He doesn’t care you’re not as young as he is or as fun or the sort of person who’d spontaneously join a game of football or gifted with impossible wild magic. He doesn’t.

 Bren went to move his pen, discovered an inkblot, sighed. Poked at numbers. They behaved themselves, adding up, clear and soothing.

 Cheers indicated that someone’d won. Drawn by the sound, Bren drifted back to the window, watched students and his husband run around, watched them being happy.

 He watched Jamie say goodbye to a few more players and then sit down abruptly, right there on the grass of the Great Lawn—and then lie down, leaning back, apparently too tired to stay upright—

 Bren dropped the pen.

 One of the students—he couldn’t tell who—had come over. Bringing water. Sitting with Jamie. Who took the water but didn’t get up.

 Jamie had been traveling—had been crossing between realms—and wearing himself thin even before that, trying to figure out the mysterious crop failures and unseasonal weather shifts—and now he’d come back and decided to play football with students, of all the ridiculous—

 And he was probably fine, almost certainly fine; Jamie knew his own limits—but if something were really seriously wrong, the students wouldn’t know how to help, what to do—

 Bren ran for the door. The castle stairs.

 When he tumbled out onto the Great Lawn, the sun was lowering itself beyond the trees; flashes of light dazzled him momentarily. Breathless and clumsy, he skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees at Jamie’s side. His husband’s eyes were closed, though he was awake; the young man sitting beside him was talking about some sort of epic poetry, very animatedly, while Jamie made interested noises of encouragement.

 “Hello, love,” Jamie said without looking, which might be either a magician’s or a husband’s senses; Bren wasn’t sure. Might’ve been both. “Have you met Neved? He’s our University football captain for the Blues, and he’s been lecturing me on Ekkarian warrior culture and epic poetry. Very eloquently, I might add. And also I’m fine.”

 “You are not,” said both Brendan and Neved simultaneously; they glanced at each other and away, embarrassed for more or less the same reason. Jamie opened both eyes and pushed himself up on both elbows, and laughed. “Your faces, both of you…”

 “No one believes you,” Neved said, “and next time you let me know if you’re tired, all right? I mean. Ah. Sorry, your majesty.”

 Bren winced a little—he knew most of his people liked him, and he also knew he wasn’t as approachable as Jamie, despite being the one of them born and raised in Erinne—but tried, “No apologies? Um. That is. It’s just Brendan. Really. Um. If you’re friends with Jamie.”

 Neved’s expression said very clearly that he wasn’t sure he could in fact call his king by a first name, but he nodded, at least.

 Bren took his husband’s closest hand. “Jamie—”

 “I’m just enjoying the lawn. Nice friendly grass. Don’t worry about me. How’re your harbor cost estimates?”

 “Fascinating. Lots of numbers to balance. I’ll tell you later. What do you need? Sugar? Chocolate biscuits? The last oranges?” Jamie’s hand was warm, but was his grip not as firm as usual? Bren’s heart shredded tiny pieces of itself in distress.

 “Sugar helps?” Neved said, with the expression of someone taking mental notes about the Royal Consort’s well-being, and also very aware that the Royal Consort’s husband was present, hovering, and technically his absolute ruler. “My gran makes these fantastic spiced honey cakes. I could run home and bring some up to the castle, later.”

 “Bren,” Jamie said, “our current ambassador to Ekkar, the one stationed in the capital, that’s Lord Summerton, right? I mean the older one, not the younger one who eloped with his mother’s lady’s maid last month and caused all the scandal. He must be nearly seventy by now—the older one, not the one with the lady’s maid—and do you think he could use a sort of junior ambassador? Someone who knows the culture and the customs? We don’t have enough people who do, and did you know Summerton didn’t even speak the language when he was appointed? I know he was friendly with your father, but honestly that seems a bit unfortunate. And Nev would be brilliant. Caring about people, and about history, and all.”

 “Oh Tree and Leaf,” Neved said, now sounding faintly shocked.

 “He’s always like this,” Bren explained, “you get used to it. Jamie—”

 “Of course you should finish University first,” Jamie said to him, “and speak to your family. And then come talk to us. I honestly am fine, love, I’m just being lazy now.”

 “You’re not,” Bren said again, and sighed. “But I’m not arguing. I’m taking you home and feeding you. Royal, um, edict. Or something. I can do that, you know.”

 “Love you.” Jamie sat up easily, more so than Bren had expected; a good sign, then. “And I’m listening. Especially if you’re promising chocolate biscuits. And you can tell me all about your numbers and the budget for improvements while I eat them.”

#whumptober 2020 #no.20 #toto i've got a feeling we're not in kansas anymore #medieval #no.21 #i don't feel so well #chronic pain #fic #original fic #my fic #the sequel to that thing i think of as the queer poly orpheus fic

[fancytrinkets]

Chapter 28: Val Royeaux (M!Trevelyan/Dorian)

Excerpt: (Shopping)

Galen does have to make purchases in Val Royeaux. That was part of the plan all along. A good three-fourths of the items he needs are for Skyhold. The Inquisition has a long shopping list and it includes such things as woven tapestries, bolts of fine cloth, wines and cheeses, as well as cups and bowls to replace what's been smashed to pieces on the tavern floor.

The remaining purchases are gear and supplies for the inner circle's westward journey. This isn't supposed to include indulging Dorian's every whim at the tailor's — as Dorian himself is well aware.

"So, what's the sartorial budget for me personally?" he asks as they stand outside the shop.

"Order whatever you like," Galen says.

Dorian chuckles as he shakes his head. He's rueful, dismissive.

"As lovely as that sounds, no," he says. "We're not doing that."

"Is this another 'I don't want to be indebted to you' conversation? Because I thought we were past all that."

It's not even a question. Galen knows for certain they're past it, because they've talked about debts and favors, about the feeling of owing someone a great debt even when they tell you it doesn't matter. They first hashed it out three days after they'd started sleeping together, in the recent aftermath of the amulet acquisition.

"I'm never going to give you things and then hold it over you as something you owe me for."

It's an easy promise to make and to keep, because it aligns so well with his nature. Galen's never been one to keep score. Part of that is because he simply forgets. It's far too tiresome to keep track of birthdays and special occasions and the names of all the people who've ever given you something in order to somehow return the favor — as if that were even possible. As if the free, generous, and loving impulse to give could somehow be captured and scripted and given meaning within an economy of expected exchange.

Besides, what he's offering right now isn't even a gift. Not really.

The Inquisition is supposed to outfit its people. Everyone who isn't being paid a salary is compensated instead with food and shelter, supplies and clothing. Galen himself isn't paid, though he is put in charge of a considerable stipend for purchases that need to be made while out on Inquisition business. That includes access to funds for discretionary purchases. And today, he'd really like to spend a good portion of those funds on Dorian.

"I know you don't see it as a debt," Dorian says. "But I am still concerned about what other people will think of you if you indulge me too much."

"So buy one outfit, not half a dozen."

"Back to the question we started with, then. What exactly is the budget for this?" Dorian asks.

"Whatever it costs," Galen says.

"No, I don't think so."

Galen sighs and gives him a number. It's probably more generous than Dorian expected, but certainly less than he could spend if he really put his mind to it.

"Was that really so hard?" he asks.

"I just want you to enjoy yourself," Galen says. "Get fitted for something nice. Criticize half the fabric choices. Flirt with the tailor's assistant if you like. I don't know, have fun with it."

"Flirt with the assistant, he says." Dorian laughs. "For someone as possessive as you are, you certainly don't get jealous easily."

"Why would I?"

"Such confidence. Alright, have it your way. I'll flirt with all the fabrics, criticize all the assistants, and try to find something that doesn't make me look like an Orlesian civil servant."

With that said, Dorian heads for the door, but as he opens it, he stops for a moment and turns toward Galen. His smile is joyful, irreverent, and genuine.

"After all," he adds, "I can't be expected to kill Venatori properly if they're laughing at my outfit."

"No, that wouldn't do at all."

Galen really doesn't care about the clothes. But he is looking forward to trailing behind for once — standing back to let Dorian take the lead and soak up all the attention. That, he thinks, might be a good look for both of them.

Chapters: 28/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus Characters: Male Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus Additional Tags: Mage Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Backstory, Emotional Baggage, Mages (Dragon Age), Templars (Dragon Age), Original Character(s), Sided with Mages, Light Angst, Letters, Diary/Journal, POV Third Person Limited, POV Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Loyalist mage point of view, Romance, Inquisitor & Cassandra friendship, Ostwick Circle (Dragon Age), Canon divergence regarding Ostwick, Happy Ending, Adding that happy ending tag because yes of course they're still together after Trespasser, Pavelyan - Freeform, Sex, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Requited Love Summary:

Galen Trevelyan thinks of Ostwick, where his friends are still safely sequestered, keeping well away from the war. He wishes, and not for the first time, that more circles had been like Ostwick, and fewer like Kirkwall.

Mage Trevelyan's story, revealed through letters, documents, and narrative.

#dragon age inquisition fanfic #dorian x inquisitor #dorian x trevelyan #pavelyan #m!trevelyan/dorian #galen trevelyan

[asharinhun]

Active OCs

// I got a few OCs who are really pestering me for some writing, I’m open for interactions on any of them :) Feel free to poke me if you’d like to know more about them first or just want to discuss something :D

Among the ‘older’/more known characters, there is of course Asharin and his daughters Kiela and Elyena. Alliance-controlled or neutral locations can mostly work if there are good reasons to be found to be there :) Now a few others who are a bit less known:

Sharyssa, nightborne arcanist apprentice (she showed up a bit more these days on my blog): Shar can be found mainly in Dalaran or Suramar, but she is free to travel to other locations for the right motivation. Currently she is looking for different types of magic or even different sources of energy to try out and see whether she could make some progress in (and eventually master) them. She is a talented and decently skilled arcane mage, likely has the same aptitude for fel magic but she didn’t try that yet, and she is below average when it comes to fire and ice magic; with druidic, light, shadow magic and necromancy out of the question.

Arlyn, kul tiran singer: She is from a family of tidesages, but she was kicked out from the profession as an apprentice, and instead of returning to her parents whom she had bad relationship with, she opted to live on the streets of Boralus as a child, and eventually got taken in by an elderly couple. Their son was her best friend until his untimely death, leaving her the sole child of Granny and Gramps (as she calls them). They are the owners of the decent tavern named Flask & Rum -bought from the money they earned while working as successful merchants- and Arlyn is the singer there. peopel can easily run into her at the tavern or on the streets of Boralus. Another possible location is Stormwind, as she wanted to visit it ever since the Alliance deleagtion arrived.

Serena, sin’dorei archer: Asha’s wife, she got really badly injured after being forced to be a part of a patrol in Darkshore, and would be dead if not for Sharyssa. She was originally supposed to be only part of a pontetial back-up soldier since she already finished her active duty by her own volition after serving the necessary time. The whole thing was a trap organised to get rid of a ‘traitor’ who dared to marry a night elf mongrel and taunt Asha into a hasty action that would cost him his own life too. Luckily the worst was avoided, but Serena is disabled for now and is recuperating and undergoing rehabilitation at Hyjal, a safe neutral location. Interactions can either happen at the present time in Hyjal or Silvermoon -where she returns a bit to colelct some of her stuff with Sharyssa also there to run errands for her-, or even in the past retroactively in Silvermoon, Dalaran or Pandaria.

Brigitte, kul tiran druid in training: A rough, hardened young woman who had to live in the wild forests of Drustvar for a time since she made her escape to save her own life from wicked constructs, she was taken in by the Thornspeakers. She doesn’t speak that much but when she does, she’s blunt to a fault. Added with her ragged-looking outfit and many visible scars, most people tend to avoid her which she shrugs off, but in truth she does feel lonely for it. Running into her is possible mainly in Drustvar or nearby areas, even Boralus. She later met Arlyn and is also interested in going to Stormwind. Also, she is intrigued by the differences in the druidism practised by the kaldorei and her own people.

Of course other locations can be viable for all of them, if they prove to be viable after discussion :)

#Asharin #Kiela #Elyena #Sharyssa #Arlyn #Serena #Brigitte

[getallemeralds]

explorers of arvus: port draavos / 3.23.20

and now for something different: the misadventures of the hope’s guard

so for the past 3 years ive been in an ongoing dnd5e campaign run by michael called Explorers of Arvus, which is super cool and super fun and i love it a whole lot! and back when i used twitter, i’d liveblog our sessions and that ended up being my way of note taking bc im otherwise quite terrible at it

after i stopped using twitter, that had the side effect of me not keeping notes anymore, so i kind of didnt remember any of the past couple sessions? especially because its hard for all 6 of us to have like, schedules that make sense, so there’s a lot of distance between each session.

and then i realized i can just take notes shitpost-liveblog style and then just… like, put it on tumblr or whatever. i’ll probably make like, ill probably port over my old liveblog threads onto here sometime but until then: we played d&d today! Time For Shenanigans

some quick context: we’re called the Hope’s Guard, but our unofficial silly name is Chunch Bunch the Dungeon Master is Michael aka Skalter aka @openlyeight​ Taure M’ea is a half-elf paladin played by Penn aka @penn-name​ and she is doing her best. Sieron Astora is a human (secretly half-orc) wizard played by Jorb aka @jorbs-palace​ and he’s basically the protagonist, and also starting to be gay for Charlie Charlie Wickfield is a halfling wild magic sorcerer played by Leos aka us and she’s known for being very chaotic, lighting things on fire, and having a high charisma score but no idea how to articulate anything Thorne is a half-orc warlock played by Solar aka @craftlands​ and he grew up in nonsense land aka the feywild and i love him, and also he’s fine-tuned to be able to snipe the shit out of anything within a 600 ft radius of him w/ eldritch blast Silje Cottonwood is a tabaxi blood hunter played by Nyx aka @patheticnyas​ and he is very edgy but also a cat and is VERY gay for Thorne our general goal is to stop some motherfucker called Halvkar / the God-King from… i dunno, being a huge bitch? he dumped zombies all over Arvus and that’s a problem. its late at night and i just played d&d for several hours

AND SO: WE PLAYED D&D FOR THE FIRST TIME OF THE DECADE

last time:

chunch bunch beat up the cult and now we’re FINALLY GOING TO ARVUS, YALL (also we picked up a cat) (his name is silly. its silje but literally pronounced like “silly”) sieron hatched a child! so like, we have a lil coatl friend now OH RIGHT SIERON HAS A MOM. sierons mom is here charlie and sieron attempted to have a gay scene but charlie went off script by being “[internal dial up noises]” when sieron said something really heartwarming we’re in fort draavos! and now we’re picking up sidequests and just kinda wanderin around. woo!

NOW, ON EXPLORERS OF ARVUS:

thorne and charlie discuss the morals of necromancy, and also the concept of “[charlie voice] necromancy racism”

EVERYONE IS BONDING WITH CHARLIE TODAY taure gave charlie the rune of wound closure and told her to stay safe and im :keralisweep:

accidentally started a cutscene bc charlie is very loud in a temple, oop. some priests(?) glared at us and walked off and im sure they wont stab us later! ingrid the adorkable friend has been having reoccuring nightmares about a dark figure w/ black robes standing above a bleeding platform high in the air over a swamp and summoning undead, so we’re gonna go hit that up! it MIGHT be like, a vision of the past, but even if so thats still pretty relevant also there’s a cool half orc lady named undril silvertusk who we’re gonna escort to camp vengeance! she’s awesome

thorne: i was in a dungeon once charlie: you got better! thorne: [points] i DID get better!

summer: can i roll to steal the laser gun? michael: if you find the dragon, you can try to steal the laser gun.

solar: guys, we have to protect the lesbians at all costs. and if one of them turns out to be an ancient gold dragon and curses my dick, then so be it

taure: dont worry, i wont let you die. ingrid: …okay :D!

THE HOT SPRINGS EPISODE IS FINALLY HAPPEN sorry thorne. charlie dabbed at a buff tiefling charlie is too fucking short for the hot springs. also she’s like 50% hair so she is Dying

time for food! we ran into an adventuring party that is apparently based off one michael was part of in another campaign, and i think the buff tiefling is his? also taure ordered samples of everything and then got Super plastered

thorne rolled really good to infodump hardcore about arvus artifacts and it is cute and id die for him oop michael asked for all our passive perception

omg theres an introduction of a ~mysterious character~ and originally theyre supposed to just sneak off but then michael realized they’d be genuinely interested in thorne’s infodumping so now theyre just Lurking

the opposite of a slow burn is a fast explosion

[everyone gets distracted quoting realtime fandub]

oops taure is depressed! ALSO SHE BROKE UP WITH SIGRA??? charlie is VERY bad at emotional support so she’s just “uhhhhhhhhh”, but thankfully thorne catches her before she faceplants into her potatoes CAN ANY OF US CARRY TAURE??? SHE’S IN FULL ARMOUR AND ALSO PASSED OUT

michael: what do you do with the bottle? summer: eat it

charlie get haircut! WITH SWORDS. her hair is now like midway down her back so its like, a bit shorter than when she first met everybody silje: do you want this [the hair he cut off]? charlie: UH WHAT WOULD I .. DO WITH IT… silje: …make a rope? charlie: yknow what i might as fucking well, who knows if id need spare hair

penn: i dont think taure is horny tho! summer: ITS OK, SILJE IS HORNY ENOUGH FOR ALL OF US

michael: Sieron, Str of 10- action hero Thorne, str of 14- twink nyx: silly, str of 13- cat solar: i guess thorne is a hunk. michael: thorne is a twunk summer: the t in thorne stands for twunk

taure, extremely drunk and sad: CHARLIE IM SORRY I MADE YOU BURN DOWN THAT LIBRARY (sieron and thorne carried her to bed and she ended up apologising a whole lot about literally everything)

jorb/sieron wants to know if charlie’s hair has any lingering wild magic nonsense!

thorne’s staring out the window! and also discord kept censoring solar when they were trying to say that THIS ENTIRE AREA IS WITHIN THORNE’S RANGE. solar: i could shoot someone at the thundering boar tavern [from our tavern] jorb: [as thorne] WRONG TAVERN, IDIOT!

solar called soldier:76 a cornfucker and it blindsided me so hard

michael: silje cottonwood, dark edgy blood hunter. [flops over on camera] NOTICE MEEEEEEEE

WE’RE NOW MAKING NONSTOP FORT DRAAVOS PUNS. i had to go clean pepper’s litter and when i came back they were STILL GOING

thorne pets silje on accident bc silje ws doing an anime squat on the balcony’s railing and is now having a crisis of “is it appropriate to pet the furry?” AND ALSO SILLY IS VERY SOFT

jorb & michael: [say something cursed] summer: [looking around frantically] I DONT HAVE AN IMPROVISED WEAPON solar: Allow Me. [brandishes baseball bat on camera]

#leo chirps #txt #summer.txt #dnd #explorers of arvus

[solitaria-fantasma]

((Session #7 shenanigans, GO!))

We’re skipping the filler stuff this week and jumping straight into the Plot bc our DM has figured out how to connect us to her main campaign and really wants to get to the good parts.

It’s been a while so we had to do a little discussing to remember where we’d left off: Destroying a dog-fighting ring, making friends with the dogs, and kidnapping the pit boss.

We dragged the pit boss halfway back to town bc we’d left our horses at the inn, and then dragged him into the woods to interrogate.

I woke him up with a slammin’ lute chord (and I was absolutely thinking “SECRET TUNNEEEEELLLLL!” in my head as I did).

Udaji rolled another ‘4’ on her Perception check and someone else in the voice chat said “yeah that’s on-brand for her”.

ZONE OF TRUTH! ZONE OF TRUTH! ZONE OF TRUTH!

(the pit boss calls the dogs ‘stupid animals’) “Someone needs to hold Udaji back, please.”

“Lord Hassan? Yeah, he’s the boss-.....I shouldn’t have said that.”

This poor man didn’t have a high enough intelligence to recognize the spell ‘Zone of Truth’ and is confused af right now.

The second piece of the map to the Crescent Gang’s Hideout was rolled up in a little bottle on a string around the pit boss’ neck - now we have two!

We asked where the third piece was, but the pit boss didn’t know - he gave us a few towns that he thought it might be in, though (such as Caister, in Everton).

Apparently, you need to layer all three map pieces over top of each other to see the full picture - like animation cells!

We asked about the marriage-murder scam, too, but the pit boss didn’t know anything important.

“If these bitches were cute enough then maybe-” *angry Dragonborn noises*

“Maybe we could feed him to the dogs?” “No way! Burnt Toast and Matthias Jr. need a well-balanced diet, not junk food.”

The only thing holding Udaji back from killing this man rn is Claus’ hand on her shin.

We leave the pit boss tied up in the wilderness, and he’s probably going to die. It’s a good thing none of us are Lawful Neutral.

The fastest way to Caister is by boat, which will take about one week, rather than two weeks if by land.

We have to pay to board the horses on the boat, but as long as the sailors were allowed to pet our new dogs, we didn’t have to pay for their boarding.

“What would you like to do on your two week boat ride?”/”I would like to train Matthias Jr. to play dead when shot with a pretend bow and arrow.”

Level Four! Yay!

We had barely landed in Everton when we heard an NPC shouting about a thief.

Mountain was too distracted trying to keep Señor Guapo from eating poison ivy to notice the commotion.

I have only just now realized that I did not include in my last session’s notes that the other two dogs are named “Señor Guapo” and “Joel”.

“Because Claus is a good boy and he is the conscience of this party.”

“We could also surround her. We number quite many.”

*insert Benny Hill theme here as the party & our dogs attempt to surround the suspected thief while our horses graze serenely a few meters away from the chaos*

The thief is a hungry young woman I don’t care what her role in the story is I have already mentally adopted her.

Mountain paid the farmer the five copper the carrots were worth, and the man stormed off, threatening to call the guard if we let her near his farm again.

“You offer her your rations, and she looks at you like you are God.”

The child is absolutely bewildered by the size of Ganondorf the Horse, but then she looked back at me (the Dragonborn) and whispered “Oooh, that makes sense…”

Soothing lute music is good for panic attacks and that’s about all Udaji’s good for right now.

Her name is Colette De Mir, and she claims to have fallen on hard times after receiving a letter pROPOSING MARRIAGE TO A LORD IN EVERTON OH NO-

She survived an attack on her traveling group, and was the only survivor. Lord Hassan tried to kill her, and threw her off of a bridge into a ravine, where she once again managed to cheat death. No-one else in her party survived, and everything in their carriage that could be stolen was.

Burnt Toast and Joel are therapy dogs: Confirmed.

Colette was horrified when we told her that she was not the only one who had been targeted by this scam, and demanded to know what we knew.

Matthias doesn’t trust her, for some reason, but the high Insight roll checks out.

“Yeeting princesses is not a very Lordly activity.”

Colette says she woke up underwater after the fall, and found herself breathing rather normally. What a way to find out you’re a sorcerer.

I lent her one of the costumes from my Entertainer’s pack, to replace her dirty and mismatched clothing as we go into town, and it’s WAY too big for her, considering it was sized for a Dragonborn.

Once we get to town, Astrid and I take Colette on a spa/shopping trip so that she can get cleaned up, and have some proper clothes.

At the inn, Colette tells us that she didn’t know that this town was Caister - she had been told that it was Kenkilly by the ship that had carried her and her entourage.

She was lied to about which town was which, basically, and - being from a completely different country - she had no idea.

Our money from Swadlin is still good in Everton, but almost all of the shopkeepers and merchants could pin us as tourists from our foreign currency.

Colette asks us to take her to Kenkilly, where Lord Hassan is supposedly supposed to be. Safety and strength in numbers, right?

Udaji - having been raised by an overprotective party of retired adventurers in a quiet, but populous, town - has no survival skills of her own.

For all intents and purposes, Colette is a Waterbender. 

Colette has a blue cloak that she tried to hide from the party, and took great care to dry and keep when changing clothes. It was a gift from her mother, meant to protect her.

When we set out the next morning, Colette rode with Astrid and got the tea (whether she wanted it or not) on the rest of the party.

“She has all the embarrassing stories on you, like what you do when you sleep.”/”Oh, no! She’s seen me cuddle my lute??”

Kenkilly is actually a small, rural village on the coast, rather than the larger city it had been made out to be in the letter to her family.

We track down some shady locals to try and get information, and we….are not subtle about it.

Between the Dragonborn, the Tiefling, two half-elves, a princess, and four dogs, we stand out quite a bit.

Matthias joined the shady people for a game of chance with dice, and won a bit of money, but no information.

Mountain joined in the betting, and Astrid is shit-talking both of them while Colette, Claus, and Udaji stand off to the side and watch.

Claus lasts about five minutes before he gives up trying to pretend we aren’t doing some shady BS and goes back to the inn to drink.

Mountain asks about the Crescent gang, but one guy asks for a bribe for his answer. Mountain tries to intimidate him, and fails miserably

Matthias also tried (and failed) to intimidate, but with Astrid’s help, the criminal was successfully intimidated.

Lord Hassan does indeed live in this town (or at least the castle nearby it), and he does not seem to be entirely well-liked by the people.

None of the complaints are super-bad, though….”trash day changes too much”, “the cost of living is too high”, “there’s too many damned foreigners-” Okay. Okay. We get the point.

“Udaji’s gonna look herself up and down from her boots to her flower crown and ask: “Do I look like a cop??’.”

“If we’re gonna ‘case this castle’, may I recommend not sending the Tiefling or the Dragonborn?”

Matthias goes out to scout, and finds out that Lord Hassan has ‘appointment times’ where he is available to the public - the next time being 2pm the next day.

He signs up the party for the 2pm meeting and comes back to the inn where the rest of us are waiting.

“I have been giving you guys tons and tons and TONS of money! You know you can spend it, right??”

The local armorer can upgrade our weapons with silver, but it would take two days, and we don’t expect to be in town that long...bummer.

I bought some new Studded Leather Armor for Udaji, sold her original Leather Armor, AND got it refined - my bby now has an AC of 16 now!

“Why do you still have all these rotten apples in your inventory?!”/”She’s fermenting them!”

Matthias’ player had him eat twenty rotten apples in one sitting just to spite the DM (their sister).

He then had to go throw up in the harbor.

So earlier, Matthias horribly embarrassed Astrid back in the alley, and now she’s refusing to talk to him.

Colette is confirmed for 19 and Udaji is still the baby of the party at 17.

The rest of the party is hanging out in the tavern, completely unawares, as Astrid yeets herself out a second story window to avoid talking to her father.

The innkeeper gave Udaji some alcohol, and Mountain casually stole it, drank it, and said “Underaged drinking is bad.”

Everyone goes around placing dinner orders at the inn and Udaji orders an entire chicken.

Astrid came back after brooding out in the wilderness for a few hours and we settled down to sleep.

Astrid steals a crown that Matthias had ‘found’ in an earlier session for Colette, arguing that “she’s actual royalty, and we’re going to talk to a Lord tomorrow, so we need to make the best impression”.

We also get a ‘glow-up’ montage as Astrid uses Matthias’ disguise kit to alter Colette’s appearance (bc if Lord Hassan really DID try to murder her, then walking straight back into his castle with no disguise would be a death sentence).

Still refusing to talk to her father, Astrid paid a very confused and slightly offended Colette to bring her breakfast in her room, just so she didn’t have to look at Matthias’ smug elven face.

Astrid also does not join us at the castle.

The Lord that we meet in the castle…..is NOT the same Lord that tried to kill Colette.

“It is kind of rude to show up for your scheduled appointment and just stand at the door, not saying anything.”

Colette storms past the party to demand an explanation of Lord Hassan, who is very unimpressed with this strange woman’s attitude.

“She’s a little upsetti spaghetti.”

Udaji’s soothing lute music saves the day again.

We tell the Lord that we are from the land of Swadlin, and were sent to investigate a series of deaths.

This Lord Hassan is a widower who is deeply faithful to his late wife and has no intentions of marrying again, and is VERY confused to hear that someone is using his name.

An advisor steps forward to take over the situation, and Matthias’ successful Insight roll gives him TERRIBLE vibes.

“He’s the kind of person whose teeth are too straight; too white.”

This advisor offered to pay us to investigate who was impersonating his Lord, and despite the bad vibes, Matthias agrees.

“Maybe DON’T intimidate the advisor while surrounded by guards.”

“He’s essentially offering you $7,000 EACH.”

We got sent off to investigate this impersonation of a Lord, and went back to the inn to try and shake off the Bad Vibes and calm Colette down.

Colette draws us a (rough) sketch of a frowning man with a pointed hairline and stiff moustache as the man who threw her off the bridge.

*two minutes of the DM (lovingly) insulting her cat in the background*

Colette says he was incredibly handsome, but Udaji just doesn’t see it.

We decide to try following the river upstream until we find a bridge that matches the one Colette was thrown off of.

Colette uses some of Matthias’ paper to write a letter to her parents, and asks Udaji to come with her to find a sailor to deliver it to her parents (for a modest fee).

The DM brought up the map and showed us the island of Mir, where Colette was from. It is a tiny dot out in the ocean, down in the far right bottom corner of the map. No wonder she needed to sail for two months!

“Matthias drinks one drink and then is blackout drunk.”/”Why do you think I have a kid?”

When we leveled up I took “Suggestion” as my next 2nd level spell, and I absolutely cannot wait to use it.

I CAN TAKE THE “DRAGON WINGS” RACIAL FEATURE AND GIVE UDAJI A 20FT WINGSPAN! Oooooooh boy the sTORYTELLING I can do with this!!!

#OOC #Quarantine D&D

[arthur-rex]

ooc: fic/RP idea for a retelling of The Last Dragonlord

Strap yourselves in this is a long one… just didn’t know when/couldn’t stop with the overly detailed plotting! xD

Note: I saw the actual episode two days ago. That’s why it’s all quite vivid still in my mind ;)

~~

So the story starts with Kilgharrah haunting Merlin’s dreams and telling him Camelot’s doom is at hand/the legacy of Uther Pendragon will be terrible to behold/his bloodline will be cursed forevermore for his acts against magic-kind. Merlin works out from this that Kilgharrah is dying and the dragon is invoking some sort of ancient powerful magic in the moment of his death. Merlin has failed to free him from his chains basically, and now the imprisoned dragon is getting his revenge through other means…

Flash forward to the next day. Merlin and Arthur are doing their usual things but Merlin notices Arthur being a bit more hungry haha not like that than usual. He’s also developed a bit of an itch to his skin that continually distracts him whilst training the knights. So he asks Merlin to draw him a bath that evening and while undressing Merlin notices shock horror the skin on Arthur’s back is literally peeling off! More sinister than this, it appears that something that looks suspiciously like golden scales lie underneath… Arthur asks Merlin what’s up and Merlin is just so horrified he literally plays dumb and tries not to panic, just focusses on getting Arthur ready for bed.

That whole night he’s at the books with Gaius, trying to make sense of the curse that Kilgharrah mentioned and what’s happening with Arthur. They come across some page in a book that tells them about possession/mad kings/the significance of the Pendragon line…

And it suddenly just clicks with Merlin oh shit Arthur’s turning into a dragon. Camelot’s Champion is turning into Camelot’s fiery destruction. What does this mean for his and Arthur’s supposed destiny together? What can he do to stop the curse? What will Uther do when he finds out what’s happening to his son??!

Gaius tries to calm down an obviously distraught Merlin at this point and advises that they try and bring Arthur discreetly to see him. Maybe some of Gaius’ potions and salves can slow down the transformation/buy them time until they can work out what to do.

Merlin finds Arthur in the morning completely freaking out. More of his skin is gone and this time Arthur has noticed. Arthur’s nails have also grown pretty sharp. He’s scratched and cut himself in a few places. Merlin realises Arthur’s a bit fragile mentally as he hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. Arthur asks Merlin if he’s turning into a monster. Merlin is of course stuck in a quandary, just as he was with Morgana. He can’t tell Arthur everything as that would reveal his magic, but he also doesn’t like to see his friend so upset. He suggest they quietly go to seek Gaius’ help. At various points during their dialogue, Arthur starts to lose his temper with the whole situation. He shouts into Merlin’s face for being so damn calm about it all and then unexpectedly a gust of flame and smoke almost sets Merlin’s hair on fire! Arthur shuts his mouth pretty quickly, absolutely mortified. Merlin just doesn’t even know what to say. Arthur tells Merlin his father mustn’t know. Uther must never ever know. Merlin agrees.

They go back to Gaius who’s been preparing some herbal salve to put on Arthur’s cracking skin. There are more gold scales everywhere now and Merlin doesn’t know how much time they have. Worringly, Arthur has started to mutter a strange language under his breath - seemingly trying to fight some sort of strange magic that is taking him over. When Arthur goes to sleep (Gaius gives him some sleeping draught to help him along), Gaius tells Merlin about the Dragonlords and Balinor and tells him if anyone knows of a way to break the curse, Balinor will. He also advises Merlin that whatever might become of Arthur out of this, hard decisions might have to be made and Merlin could possibly be forced to reveal the secret of his magic with Arthur in order to save him. Merlin is torn, fearful of the consequences while Uther is still king.

So then the next day in the early hours of morning Merlin and Arthur saddle up on their horses and head out to seek Balinor. Merlin is trying to be cheerful but Arthur feels dreadful. They have had to cover him now with a huge cloak as his face is beginning to change. He’s growing horns. His mood swings are also turning more violent and unstable. He keeps slipping into the dragon language when his mind wanders and Merlin has to do everything to stop that happening. Every night when he sleeps Arthur dreams of Camelot burning and hears whispers of the Great Dragon telling him this is his destiny and when he wakes up panting and scared shitless his eyes have turned golden and his pupils have become slitted like a dragon’s. As they near to finding Balinor, a worn out Arthur takes Merlin to one side for The Talk. The Talk consists of Arthur basically giving Merlin his sword and saying to Merlin. Hey look. If this mission to find a cure spectacularly backfires, you’re going to have to kill me with this sword if I’m no longer able to do it myself. Merlin looks at it and says he can’t but Arthur makes him promise. Merlin reluctantly agrees. Arthur tells Merlin to tell Gwen he loves her, if when the time comes he cannot.

They find Balinor like in the episode and Arthur’s getting really edgy but Merlin just sticks with the plan and tells Balinor his friend is really sick and needs help. A group of mercenaries appear at this point and attack the three having heard a tipoff from the tavern that strange beasts were abroad that needed slaying. This action pushes Arthur into savage beast mode(!) and as this overlarge human dragon hybrid he swipes his claws and lashing his tail at them. He kills the mercenaries and saves Merlin and Balinor but at a cost as the transformation really starts to set in and Arthur starts to lose grip of his consciousness due to the strain of resisting the effects of the change/losing his identity. He doesn’t even get a chance to tell Merlin to kill him before he’s out unconscious.

Merlin and Balinor then carry Arthur together back to Balinor’s cave where they have their little chat and Merlin asks Balinor if there is a way to reverse the effects. Balinor is a bit ‘no comment’ on this and questions why Merlin would want to stop a young dragon from coming into the world. A changeling of this kind is extremely rare, or else this is a person of royal blood under a curse. Merlin goes a bit tight-lipped after that and Balinor eventually works out this must be Arthur Pendragon with him. Feeling vindictive, Balinor says it serves Uther right, for all he did to destroy the Dragonlord people and outlaw magic in the kingdom. It’s nothing more than delicious irony that his son and heir will destroy the kingdom his father created. Merlin counters that this isn’t about Uther, this is about Arthur, and that it shouldn’t have to be the son that suffers for the sins of the father. Balinor hesitates, but he says that although he bears no ill will towards Arthur this has clearly been chosen as his destiny and he can’t avoid it. Merlin (who knows that Balinor is his father thanks to Gaius telling him) makes the sort of vague comments he does to try and make Balinor realise he is his son - they discuss Uther’s purge, Ealdor, and what all this might mean if dragon!Arthur simply burns it all down. Merlin asks one last time if Balinor will help him. Balinor refuses once more.

Merlin leaves the cave deeply upset. He picks up the sword and remembers his promise to his friend. He’s going to have to kill Arthur. Grimly resolved he goes back into the cave to do The Deed, but only to discover that Arthur has awoken and although he still looks very dragon-ish he appears to have regained command of his mental faculties. Balinor seems to imply that Arthur and he have ‘struck up a friendship’. Merlin is a bit confused/suspicious of this but realises perhaps this means Balinor does know of a way to restore Arthur to his normal self. Balinor agrees to go with them to Camelot, implying that if they travel to the place where the original dragon enacted the curse they might be able to reverse its effects.

On the way back to Camelot, Balinor and Merlin have a further chat which culminates with Merlin telling Balinor he is his son (like in the episode). Balinor is shocked, humbled, and immediately proud of his boy (as he is in the episode). He begins to tell Merlin all will be well now, the power to save Merlin’s friend has been inside him all this time, but suddenly they are stopped by patrols of Camelot’s knights. In the days since Arthur and Merlin snuck out of Camelot on their mission, Uther has set up a mega operation to find Arthur and kill/take prisoner those who dare thought to kidnap his son. Balinor and Merlin try their best to conceal Arthur but someone gets the cloak off him. By this point Arthur’s original features have been twisted so much he isn’t easily recognisable as himself, and the knights all draw their swords to slay the monster. Arthur becomes highly distressed to see his former knights and friends turning on him and this sadness melts into anger which of course triggers the full onslaught of the curse and Arthur pretty much metamorphoses all the way into a large golden dragon (about ¾ the size of Kilgarrah). Driven by the madness of his curse, he burns most of the knights alive before flying off towards Camelot. Presumably to enact his ‘destiny.’

In the wake of the destruction, Merlin emerges to find Balinor horrifically scarred by the dragon fire. He’s been burned within an inch of his life, and he is dying. He and Merlin have a final chat where Balinor tells Merlin he was right. Arthur should not have to suffer for the sake of his hatred of Uther. He then shares his secret with Merlin, that he as the last Dragonlord is able to speak to dragons and thereby tame them. He says Merlin as his son has this power too, and he must find Arthur and tell him who’s boss calm him and bring out the best in the beast. Balinor then dies.

Merlin travels on to Camelot by himself. Arriving outside its gates he finds the city already burning. It looks exactly as Arthur described to Merlin in his earlier nightmares. He fears for Gaius and Gwen, but he knows he’s got to find and subdue dragon!Arthur first. He tries to get the dragon’s attention by riding round a horse and shouting up at it. He avoids using magic initially and outright, as he still harbours this deep sense of shame for hiding it from Arthur all this time and revealing his magic now and using it offensively against him would just hurt/piss off his best friend more. Merlin then has An Idea. He searches for Gwen and takes her with him to the green clearing, thinking that Arthur’s feelings for Gwen will draw the dragon to them. It does.

Dragon!Arthur arrives and lands near to the two of them, looking very interested with Gwen (she’s absolutely petrified - Merlin hasn’t really told her everything that’s going on does he ever). Noticing Gwen is frightened by his appearance, dragon!Arthur gets very agitated and beats his wings, roaring/etc. Gwen gets thrown on the ground in the commotion, banging her head against something and falling still. Meanwhile, Merlin has his inner Dragonlord awakening moment, and finally speaks the language of dragons. 

He calms dragon!Arthur until he settles on the ground, utterly docile. Then Merlin notices the dragon is crying. He’s looking at Gwen’s motionless body. And he’s looking back at Merlin. Merlin senses Arthur’s pain. He thinks he’s killed his girlfriend, he’s destroyed half of Camelot and he’s feeling upset/shocked/betrayed by Merlin, who (although he’s managed to stop his crazed rampaging) has been keeping his powers secret from him all this time. Merlin reaches out and touches Arthur’s snout to console him. Then he goes over to Gwen. He finds she’s still alive, but desperately needs Gaius’ aid. He asks dragon!Arthur to fly them all back to the castle. They ride on Arthur’s back up to the Keep. 

Once Gwen is safely in Gaius’ care, a whole legion of knights with Uther among them spills out onto the courtyard. The sight of Uther causes the deep well of poison in the curse to flare up again in Arthur, and it looks like the dragon is going to murder the king. But Merlin places his hand on the dragon’s side again and calms him. A few of the knights fire arrows at dragon!Arthur and Merlin. Aware that Merlin wishes to keep his magic secret from people who know him, Arthur shields the warlock with his wings before picking him up in his claws, carrying him away. 

They land outside the castle. Merlin comforts dragon!Arthur as best he can. He can sense Arthur’s despair in his head. He’s tormented by what he’s done to the knights and people of Camelot as a dragon and believes he’s going to be stuck as a monster for the rest of his life. He’s lost his home, family, friends. Everything of his past life. Merlin reminds Arthur of what Balinor said about returning to the place where the original dragon cast the curse in order to revoke it. He tells Arthur to not give up hope.

They travel together deep underground into the pit where Uther chained Kilgharrah. There they find the crumbling bones of the deceased dragon and the heavy chains that have fallen away, and are lying open. Merlin pauses, unsure what they are meant to do. It takes a few moments, but dragon!Arthur eventually realises what must be done (he can feel/hear the ancient magic of the Old Religion speak to him while he is a dragon) and nudges at Merlin to do it. When Merlin realises via their telepathic link, he disagrees - no, no, no there must be another way! - but Arthur knows there isn’t. 

To break the curse on their bloodline, the son of Pendragon must suffer to be chained as Uther had imprisoned and persecuted those with magic before. The deep wrongs perpetuated against magic kind must be atoned for.

So dragon!Arthur submits to Merlin casting the enchantments to bind him to the rock where Kilgharrah was once chained. Merlin asks Arthur why go through with this? If it means he can never be free - what point is there in breaking the curse?

Dragon!Arthur speaks, and for the first time it’s not in Merlin’s mind but spoken out loud like a proper Great Dragon can speak. He wishes to right the wrongs of his father. As a dragon he has witnessed first hand how those that are magical are hated and hunted down, through no fault of their own but simply for being. He wishes for a future society of kindness and that the intolerance his father perpetuated be locked away underground and never be seen again. Merlin tells him he’s being a pompous self-sacrificing arse. Dragon!Arthur merely laughs and threatens to burn Merlin’s hair again if he disobeys. As Merlin wipes his nose on his sleeve and leaves his friend chained in the darkness, he tells him he’ll visit everyday. Dragon!Arthur just tells Merlin to have a life of his own for once, and to tell Gwen he loves her.

Flash forward to a few months into the future. Uther Pendragon, the King of Camelot, has fallen ill to a strange wasting illness. He’s literally dying, becoming more and more (metaphorically) chained to his bed as each days passes and his strength fails. The king’s ill health leads to civil unrest in the kingdom with rival factions warring over the succession to the throne. It’s all the besieged Knights can do to keep the peace. Prince Arthur has not been seen for months. He is presumed to be dead, although some blond men pretending to be Arthur keep miraculously popping up to try and claim their supposed ‘birthright’ to the throne. It both really hurts and pisses Merlin off.

Anyway, when Uther finally dies, Merlin senses a seismic shift in magic around him. Hardly daring to analyse what this means, he runs downstairs deep underground to the lair where his friend lies in the darkness in chains.

Dragon!Arthur is not there. Instead there is simply a large egg. And a blond, naked man lying in the dust curled around it. Pretty much like Daenerys from GOT in that scene

Merlin runs over and grabs his friend in a tearful hug and a shivering Arthur goes “hey I’m naked and cold, give me something to wear.” They have their moment and then Merlin tells Arthur all the latest news in Camelot. Arthur grieves the passing of his father. But then he picks up the dragon egg in his arms, and for a fleeting moment, feels the young (Pen)dragon inside moving. And he is reminded that life goes on. 

The two then carry the egg with them back into Camelot, where Arthur will claim his throne, usher magic back to the kingdom and become the first royal in over a thousand years to hatch a dragon egg (with a bit of help from his court sorcerer). They call the baby dragon Kilgharrah in honour of his grandfather and he grows to become Protector of the Realm. 

~~

And there you have it. 

I call this monstrosity of an AU “The Last Dragonlord and his (Pen)Dragon.  Note: I am sorry if many of the ideas in this fic are cheesy as sin and/or badly abused tropes. I am so sorry.

#ooc #//wow that one got out of hand #S2E13: The Last Dragonlord #Merlin RP #BBC Merlin #Dragonlord!AU #The Last Dragonlord #dragon!Arthur #v. the last dragonlord & his (pen)dragon

[fumusdamnatorum]

Fortuna (Drabble)

Bounty hunting isn’t necessarily the most....straightforward line of work out there in Remnant. Officially, a section of huntsman/huntress missions dedicated to "bounties", where they track down their targets and bring them in, dead or alive. Unofficially, the rules of the game change the farther out you are from the main cities be it for better or worse. Those that ride that fine line well often make more money. But it gets blurred for a road that is constantly traveled. 

Mistral proper hid under a blanket of mist. To the naked eye, it seems like fog, but upon walking through it, it was much more lighter. It didn’t deter the bounty hunter from slipping into the cracks of the city, entering a tavern where would be the hub in which he’d collect. Upon seeing him, most of the patrons left, including the tavern patron. Certainly, he found himself in the deep end. Considering this was one of many “no faunus” establishments in Mistral, it more or less speaks for itself. 

Three knocks at given intervals on the door opens a small camera. Presenting his scroll with the contract, Silas walks in, stopping and entering the door the scroll beeps at. Walking in, there’s a crew of about six plus the boss sitting at the center. Placing his rifle at the door, the hunter places his scroll in front of his commissioner. The man nods, raising his arm for a bag of Lien to be delivered. However, it looked a bit....light. 

“I was told payment would be in full upon completion.” Silas inspects the pouch, containing a quarter of the 50,000 Lien bounty.

“Times are changing, Barghest,” the man coughs up. “The kingdoms...are falling apart. Business is thin.”

“So the market is the reason why I’m only getting half my dues, Carmichael?” 

“Partly, but consider it payment forward to another contract I have that requires...utmost attention.” The door suddenly opens without warning, provoking Silas to draw Kopf and Zahl. Without delay, the entire room has guns and weapons pointed at the hunter. One of his men walks in, pushing and shoving two lion faunus through: two children. They are terrified, the older sibling just holding together just so her little brother wouldn’t cry. “My cargo here has to be moved from here to Vale. As you know, it’s a long, dangerous path to and fro. They need protection. Buyer pays 100,000 Lien for safe custody on site.” The kid’s eyes told the entire story to him.

“I thought I made it clear that I’m a bounty hunter.” His eyes were grimm, looking straight at the gang leader. “I don’t do trafficking.” Silas points the revolver at Carmichael, prompting one of his men to move forward, only to be stopped by an arm. 

“A few spiders told me that you were originally from Solitas.” He leans forward, chin resting on his hands “I don’t suppose a stray like yourself would find it....inconvenient to be sent back there for trial, wouldn’t it?” 

“Only as inconvenient as someone trying to run a gang with the back of their head blown open. Be a true shame if something were to happen.” Silas cocks the hammer on on both of his guns. The acoustics of the room only stood to magnify his message.

“You better watch where you point that gun of yours, stray.” His rifle sight was pointed at Silas’s head. “We have you covered six to one.” 

“Six of you, 12 shots. I beg to differ.” Kopf is trained on the right hand man while Zahl stays pointed at Carmichael. The older man only laughed. “Dr. Schmitz would be disappointed, seeing his protege refusing to acknowledge honor among thieves.” 

“You’re far from honor....and you’re no thieves.” He eyes the room carefully, devising a strategy while keeping the two hostages in the back of his mind. “Last chance, full payment...now.” The room grows tense, fingers on triggers that are a hair strand from being pulled. Carmichael simply shakes his head, standing up and heading for the door. “Good luck, bounty hunter.”

Silas fires at the door lock, causing it to close shut. Holstering Zahl, he fans the hammer with Kopf, firing around Carmichael and hitting his men. It wasn’t without cost as two rounds managed to hit him in the leg and right shoulder. The door behind him opens up, a round hitting him in the shoulder. Turning around, he fires from the hip with Zahl, using his semblance to get hold of his rifle and firing the last three in the hallway. His aura begins to flicker.

That leaves the boss. 

“I’m not one necessarily known for good luck.” Walking over, Silas watches as Carmichael scrambles for a gun, pointing it at the kids. It only garnered a shake the head from the bounty hunter, kicking the weapon away and stabbing the spear into his victim’s hand. Using the spear to lead them away from the kids, he shoves Carmichael’s back against a wall. Taking the knife from his gauntlet, Silas leans in close. “I’ve always been unlucky for others.” He stabs the boss with the dagger, the blade finding itself through and through. With a twist and a pull, Silas stands back up, drawing Zahl and firing one round to the head. Taking out the scroll, he also takes a picture of the recently deceased Wren Carmichael, whose bounty amounts to 250,000 Lien.

Going through the carnage, he digs up some untainted Lien, pocketing the amount need for his “bounty”. Walking over to the kids, he carefully kneels down, taking off his hat and mask to show his real face and giving them space. To a certain degree, this situation feels all so familiar. His hand reaches out to them, words as soft as he can make it. “It’s okay....you’re safe now.”  

The girl’s ears perked up before flattening and taking Silas’s hand. “Thank you mister.” She looked at her little brother, whose tail remains wrapped around his older sister’s arm. 

Only thing left to do is move them to Menagerie. He does have a contact....but if only she would pick up is the real question. “Do you have family in Menagerie?”

The girl nods. “Grandma....she lives there.” That settles that matter then. But first.....  He holds her hand, minding the dead bodies in their way. Rifle knocks itself on the door frame on the way out.

“What are your names?” 

The girl was reluctant to tell them at first, but she speaks up. “I’m Lyra and this little one here is Cast.” The smaller one holds his hand up to Silas, the later allowing his index finger to be held. 

“My name is Silas. I’ll make sure you get to grandma’s safe and sound, okay?” The two of them nodded in response. He puts on his mask and hat, before opening the door to the outside. 

“A complicated profession” doesn’t even begin to sum up the job description.

#ooc #tw blood #tw gore #tw trafficking mention #Memories (drabble)

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.26

Enchanted Forest. Past. (At a village fete, Snow White approaches a wealthy looking man.) Snow White: "Sir. Sir? Can I interest you in a piece of jewelry?" Wealthy Man: (Inspecting the brooch:) “You don't look like a peddler.” Snow White: “I'm not. There was an emergency and I've been forced to sell. That would make a lovely gift for your wife.” Wealthy Man: “I'll give you three coppers.” Snow White: “Sir, I'm sure you realize it is worth a hundred times that. That is a family heirloom.” Wealthy Man: “I only know of one family with heirlooms that valuable. What is your name?” Snow White: (Hesitates:) “Three coppers would be fine, just fine. (Accepting the coins:) Thank you.” (Snow turns and hurries away.) Henry's Dreamscape. Kingdom Of Valencia. (Madelena supervises the servants as they make preparations for Gareth’s surprise party.) Queen Madelena: “As you all know, this is the first birthday party I've thrown for Gareth since he became king. If you ruin the surprise, I'll cut your tongue out with a dull knife. Thanks for your hard work, and I cherish you one and all.” Page: “He's coming!” Queen Madelena: “Oh! Places, everyone!” (Giggles excitedly as everyone hides. Gareth enters the room and everyone jumps out.) All: “Surprise!” (Immediately, Gareth draws his sword and attacks, stabbing three men in quick succession.) Queen Madelena: (Running over to him:) “Gareth! Wait! It's a birthday party for you, you kook.” (Chuckles.) Gareth: “Oh.” (Sheathes his sword as the three men fall to the floor, dead.) Queen Madelena: “Come take a look at your gifts. I think you're going to love them.” Gareth: (Picking something up from the table:) “This is a bit fancy.” Queen Madelena: “It's a crystal nut bowl.” Gareth: “Yeah. It'll never fit.” Queen Madelena: “No, for dinner parties.” Gareth: “Mm.” Queen Madelena: (Winces:) “You don't like it?” Gareth: “It's not that. It's just that, all this hoity-toity king stuff... (Sighs:) It's just not me.” Queen Madelena: “Oh. (Chuckles:) Okay. So, what is you, Gareth? I mean, if you could get anything for your birthday, what would it be?” Gareth: “A scar. Every year, on my birthday, we used to go down the pub and get in a good old scrap. When I was 9 years old, I went to the pub and got this one. (Shows her a scar:) Greatest gift a kid could ever want. (Shows Madelena another scar:) This one, I was 14. I left a man bleeding to death in the sawdust. He wanted me to finish him off, but I wouldn't.” (They both laugh.) Queen Madelena: “That's what we're going to do. I'm taking you to the sleaziest tavern in Valencia...  (Drawing her finger down his face:) To get you a new birthday scar.”

The Land Without Magic. New York. The Stonewall Inn. (Walking in together, Regina and Emma see Facilier standing behind the bar.) Facilier: "I asked the owner to step out, so we could talk privately." Emma: "Enough games, what do you want?" Facilier: (Chuckles:) "Au contraire. (Pulling out a deck of cards from his pocket:) The real games are about to begin." (Shuffles the cards.) Regina: "I've done my research on you, Facilier. The consensus from those I spoke to was that you were barely more than a lowly witch doctor when you were alive. The ability to return from the dead far beyond your capabilities." Emma: "The Darkness was destroyed along with all previous Dark Ones, so it's definitely not them helping you this time." Regina: "Even if it were, that would require magic-" Facilier: (Finishing her thought:) "And since, as you said, we're in a land without magic, that's not possible." Emma: "So just who the hell are you?" Facilier: (Chuckles:) "I must say, I do so love the fire in your eyes. Such a shame it was missing during our time together under the Black Fairy's curse. (To Regina:) I suppose she told you what happened between us wasn't out of mutual consent?" Emma: (Shaking with rage:) "She knows what you did to me you sick son of a bitch!" (Facilier moves out of the way as Regina attempts to punch him, even though the distance between them given the bar and her pregnant stomach would’ve made reaching him impossible.) Facilier: (Laughing:) "Such hostility. (To Emma:) Couldn’t find the courage to take a swing at me yourself? Interesting. (Chuckles at Emma’s fraught expression:) This won't do at all, not for my purposes. All right, I have a confession to make. I am not Dr. Facilier. I have merely appeared to you in this form to ensure I had your full attention. My name, is Lord Morpheus." Regina: "Morpheus? As in-" Morpheus: "The God of Dreams, yes." Regina: (At Emma's look:) "Legend says that Morpheus rules over the Dream World much like Hades ruled over the Under World." Morpheus: "Until your sister killed him, of course." Emma: (Slowly regaining her confidence, with the knowledge that Facilier is not actually standing across from her:) "So is that what this is? A member of our family kills yours and so you come down from Olympus to get your revenge?" Morpheus: "Revenge? (Smiles:) No, no, no. That's far too small minded. Hades' demise created an opportunity for me to really show the world what I could do. Then of course, you two went and united the realms of story, and I knew exactly what to do. Your new world needs a ruler and who better for the job than I, Lord Morpheus?” Regina: (Unimpressed:) “What is it with gods and overplaying their hand?” Emma: "So you've been invading our dreams, our nightmares, to what, get our attention?" Morpheus: (Chuckling:) "I had to establish a link between your world and mine. You see, currently, despite my immortality, my powers can only reach so far. So I used what was available to me, and I entered the dreams of an innocuous, would-be magician." Regina & Emma: "Xanax." Morpheus: "The very same. I gave him the inspiration and knowledge he needed to become a weaver of dreams. To allow people from your world to access and control what happened to them in their dreams. In my world." Regina: "So with your stooge in place, you targeted Henry to get to us?" Morpheus: "Is it my fault that your son yearns for more from his life? That he feels constantly overshadowed by his parents and grandparents? I gave your son the chance to live out his dreams. I created a world in which he could truly be the hero. Then, all I needed was for Henry to share his discovery with you both. Of course, Henry required a little push to see that sharing his secret world would indeed be caring." Regina: (Realising what he means:) "The sleepless nights, the labour pains. That was all you?" Morpheus: (Nods:) "A necessary evil, I’m afraid. By the time I started interfering with your sleep patterns, your son had already spent many countless hours exploring the dreamscape I had created for him." Emma: "All right, so you orchestrated all of this just so we would enter 'your world'. Why not come to us as soon as we stepped through Xanax's door?" Morpheus: (Smiles broadly:) "Because, at the very moment you entered my world, I was driving into yours." (Regina and Emma look to each other, incredulous.) Regina: "You were Greg Mendell?" Morpheus: (Laughing:) "I was Greg Mendell.” Emma: "But why?" Morpheus: "Your magic was the key to my plans. Each time you entered my world together, my connection to your world grew stronger. I knew that if I could just get you to use your powers on me in your world, I could harness that energy to forge a permanent link between my world and yours. That's why I came to town disguised as Greg Mendell. I thought for sure you would use your powers to save Greg’s life. Shame on the both of you for that. But no matter, if you wouldn’t use your powers to save me, I could get you to use them to attack me. (To Regina:) Surely the Evil Queen would do anything to hide her most darkest of deeds from her wife? If not, I was certain that the Savior would protect the woman she loves at any cost. Of course, Rumplestiltskin's interference derailed my original plan briefly and I had to adapt, to become someone else. Someone trusted by you and your extended family.” Regina: (In realisation:) “Robin Hood.” Morpheus: (Chuckles, to Emma:) “I was sure you were going to use your magic to stop me when I had that arrow aimed at your unborn child. But then Zelena spared you the effort, and I had to revert to my original plan.” Emma: “Yeah, well if you hadn’t driven away like a coward, you might have gotten your wish.” Morpheus: “I saw the gun in your hand, Emma. Magic was the last thing on your mind. Despite all my planning, Greg Mendell had become a lost cause, but thankfully I had one last ace up my sleeve. When that drunken fool, Dr. Whale, travelled through his own dreamscape trying to right the wrongs of his past, inspiration struck again. Then so did I. (To Regina:) I knew your love for Daniel would get the job done.” Regina: “You pretended to be Daniel and tore Whale’s arm off?” Morpheus: (Nods:) “He had it coming. Man cannot overcome death. It is we gods who decide who lives and who dies, not you mortals. I’ll admit, at the stables, I thought for sure Emma would be the one to put Daniel down. I never believed for a moment it’d be his lost love. But no matter, my trap worked.” Regina: “So it’s my magic that’s keeping you here?” Morpheus: “For the time being, yes. Even magic as powerful as yours can’t keep me here indefinitely. Which brings me to my proposal. (He flips over a card:) Fight me in the dream world, winner take all." Regina: (Scoffs:) "Why on earth would we do that? All we need to do is sever your link to this world, put Xanax out of business and you'll never be able to bother anyone again." Morpheus: "You couldn't be more wrong. I can still haunt your dreams, and if you refuse to my terms, I guarantee you will never see your son again. (At their expressions:) Oh, did you think the connection between our worlds was one way? I have Henry in my possession where he will remain forever, unless you accept my challenge." Emma: "You have nothing. We'll just go to Xanax's and wake him up." Morpheus: "Believe what you want. You won't find Henry there, he’s in my world now."

Regina: “If you hurt my son I will crush you.” Morpheus: (Laughs:) “I don’t need to hurt your son at all. I can simply leave him to live out his dreamscape forever. Over time, his memories of his old life will simply fade away, replaced by the ones he makes for himself living as the hero he was always meant to be.” Regina: “No matter how good your dreamscape is, it won’t be real. When I cast the Dark Curse, I thought I had finally won, but I soon discovered it was a hollow victory. Henry may get everything he ever wanted in your world, but without his family and friends to share it with, Henry will come looking for us.” Morpheus: (Chuckles:) “You mortals and your unyielding faith in family. The fact remains, if you want to see him again, you must accept my challenge.” Emma: “Yeah, about that. If we accept, what’s to stop you trapping us there the moment we enter the dream world?” Morpheus: (Sighs:) “My family. Zeus to be exact. It seems that even though he rules the heavens and the earth, the thought of me ruling the united realms concerns him. So, I have to play by his rules, which means I cannot directly interfere in the battle.” Regina: “Battle?” Morpheus: “Yes. Our armies will do battle in Henry’s dreamscape.” Emma: “We don’t have an army.” Morpheus: “Tut tut. No army? This is a prime example as to why I should be your ruler. For the time being however, I’m sure the Queen and her Savior can convince their neighbours to join you in battle. After all, this does effect each of them too.” Regina: “Say we raise an army and defeat you, we’re just supposed to believe you’re just going to let us go in peace?” Morpheus: (Smirks:) “That would be a tad anticlimactic, wouldn’t it? (Turns over another card:) Should you defeat my army, you must next challenge my Empress. A powerful sorceress who would no doubt rival even your combined magic.” Emma: “Would? Is there a doubt in your mind that we wouldn’t take her on?” Morpheus: “Quite a considerable doubt actually. (Turns over his final card:) For you see, if I’m not allowed to interfere, then neither are you.” Regina: “Just try and stop us.” Morpheus: “Oh I intend to do just that. You may lead your army to Henry’s dreamscape, but I can’t allow either of you to enter.” Emma: “If you think we’re staying behind when our son is in danger you’re insane.” Morpheus: “I had hoped as much. You see, if you do choose to enter my world once again, I have something much more fun planned for you both. For you, Regina, I will leave your fate a surprise, but for you, Emma, I shall send you back under the Black Fairy’s curse, trapped inside your darkest nightmares.” (Emma and Regina shared troubled looks.) Regina: “Then I don’t see what choice we have... but to stop you.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Snow White rips a wanted poster from a tree and starts tearing it up.) Blue Fairy: (Floating beside her:) "You only got three coppers?” Snow White: “He was onto me. If I'd done anything else, he would've turned me over to the queen.” Blue Fairy: “How do you know he won't anyway?” Snow White: “Oh, I know his type... corrupt and greedy. He's just happy to have gotten something of value for next to nothing. He won't tip anyone off.” Blue Fairy: “I think you might be wrong about that. Run! (Snow turns to see a masked man hurl an axe at her, which she barely avoids. The man runs toward her with a second axe raised and misses her again, embedding the axe into a tree. Blue does her best to distract him, while Snow hurls the first axe, hitting the man in the arm. Transforming into human form, the Blue Fairy grabs the axe from the floor and stands with Snow to chase the man away.) Who was he?” Snow White: “Must be the Woodcutter... bounty hunter who usually specializes in hunting down werewolves. That nobleman must have tipped him off about the price on my head. Blue, I can't stay here. I have to go. I'm a princess, a princess without a kingdom! The forest is no place for me. I have sold everything my parents gave me, and I have just enough to book passage on a boat out of here, out of her reach. Maybe the head of some allied nation will take me in.” Blue Fairy: “Wait, wait! You're going right now?” Snow White: “There's nothing holding me here. I'm headed to the nearest port town. I hear there's one not far from here. Longbourn.”

The Land Without Magic. New York. Present. (Standing with their bags outside the hotel, Emma and Regina listen over the phone as David arrives outside Xanax's laboratory.) Emma: "Yeah, we're coming home right now. We don't know if Xanax is in on this or not but we need you to check his place from top to bottom and find Henry." Regina: "And if he's not there, you drag that charlatan back to Storybrooke and throw him in a cell." David: "I'm on it." (David hangs up the phone and, not bothering to knock, breaks through the front door.) Xanax's Laboratory. Enchanted Forest. David: (Climbing the stairs:) "Henry?! Henry!" Xanax: (As David enters:) "Woah, woah, woah! He's not here." David: "Where is he?" Xanax: "I don't know, he was here one minute then... he just vanished." David: "People don't just disappear. Where did he go?" Xanax: (Shaking his head:) "All I know is that Henry was here, then that attractive fellow came in and insisted he enter Henry's dreamscape and they were both laid here before me. Next thing I knew, they were gone." David: "Someone else entered Henry's dreamscape? Who?" Xanax: "Bearded guy, leather..." Toad: "Ribbit." Xanax: "Oh yeah, he had a hook for a hand. Can’t remember his name."

David: "Hook?" Xanax: (Clicks his fingers:) "That's the one." David: "Why would Hook want to enter Henry's dreams?" Xanax: "No idea. But wherever they are now, can't be good." Underworld. Present. (Bloodied and bruised, Hook finds himself bound and chained to the ceiling when he hears footsteps approaching. Glancing over, he sees Hades walk into view.) Hook: "How is this possible, I heard you were dead?" Morpheus/Hades: (Chuckles:) "You heard correctly. So sorry to keep you… hanging around. I had an important meeting to attend." Hook: "Who are you?" Morpheus/Hades: "I, am Lord Morpheus, God of Dreams." Hook: (Slightly relieved:) "So this is a dream. I'm still alive." Morpheus/Hades: "Yes and no. While you may not be dead, you are no longer dreaming. Directly beneath you is the River of Lost Souls. Touch it, and it will make you lost. Reducing you to a mindless, tormented husk. Do I have your full attention now?” Hook: “Why the bloody hell am I here?” Morpheus/Hades: “Oh, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you, Captain. Back when Hades was alive, he and I had an arrangement where it was possible for the dead to invade the dreams of the guilty. Confined as each of us were to our own worlds, we cherished these brief glimpses of the world beyond our reach. See, when you’re an immortal, time does tend to drag without good entertainment once and awhile.” Hook: (As he continues to be lowered closer to the water:) “What’s that got to do with me?” Morpheus/Hades: “I’m glad you asked. I fancy myself as a bit of a collector. I’ve explored the inner most thoughts of every great villain and hero throughout time thanks to their guilt. People you know in fact. The Evil Queen, The Savior, even Rumplestiltskin himself. But the one person who seemingly has never lost a moment’s sleep over their nefarious deeds, is you.” Hook: “You’re wrong.” Morpheus/Hades: “Oh no, I’ve checked. After almost three hundred years on this earth, you have never once had your dreams invaded by any of the people you’ve killed. That, Captain, makes you someone very special indeed. I just had to meet you, which is why I sent Prince Charming’s poor father Robert up to speak with his son.” Hook: “The coin, the pages... you stirred up all that forgotten history just so you could trap me down here?” Morpheus/Hades: “Believe me, I was surprised you were even capable of guilt after all these years. And then I realised it wasn’t your guilt that brought you to my world. Especially when the very first thing you did upon entering your dreamscape was to try and take your vengeance. That’s what it’s always been about for you, hasn’t it, Killian? How you were wronged, how you were abandoned, how the world owes you something. You never cared for Milah, it was about the fact that the Dark One took something from you. You didn’t regret killing your father, because he abandoned you. You didn’t care about killing David’s father, only that somebody might finally make you pay for your crimes. Well finally, that someone is me. And I intend to enjoy every moment of it.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen