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awkwardauthorwrites · 1 year

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Wildest Dreams - Epilogue

Word Count: 2k

Themes: an unbelievable about of fluff

Summary: Set two years after the reunion, and Y/N and Sebastian are (finally) getting married

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters are aged up and around 27/28 years old. Quote in bold italics is not mine. It’s from the film Corpse Bride and I love it too much to pass on using it.

Find Part One here and Part Two here

Two Years Later

Sebastian stood by the fountain at the north entrance of Hogwarts castle and couldn’t help but think of the last time he had been here - how it felt like he couldn’t get Y/N out of there fast enough. It was a stark parallel to the present, where he shuffled between his feet with nervous energy and willed her to move a little faster so that he could finally see her. When he approached Headmaster Black about getting married in the gardens he had half expected the man to laugh in his face and reject him. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder and agreed without a second thought, muttering about how it would do wonders for the image of the school if the Hero of Hogwarts chose to return there for the most important day of her life. Sebastian itched to shake him off and find a different venue instead, but he knew Y/N wanted nothing more than to get married in the first place she had truly called home, and so he begrudgingly thanked his old Headmaster and informed him of their plans.

They had decided to get married in the summer, partially so they wouldn’t disturb any students, but also because it offered them the best weather for their outdoor ceremony. They would have both much preferred a winter wedding so they could see the grounds covered in snow, but decided it would be easier (and warmer) to get married earlier in the year so they didn’t have to worry about constantly casting warming charms. Sebastian had to admit, the summer flowers added a beautiful touch to the whole affair, his eyes darting over the different array of colours in the gardens around him.

“Stop moving so much,” Ominous nudged him gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” Sebastian laughed and nudged his friend and brother back. “I’m so sorry for putting you out on my wedding day.”

“Apology accepted.” Ominis smirked at him, his head tilting to the side slightly as the guests in front of them talked amongst themselves. Sebastian began to fiddle with his cufflinks as he watched their guests arrive and take their seats, nodding in greeting to those who caught his eye. “You seem jumpier than usual, are you alright?”

“I can’t wait to see her.”

“I remember that feeling.” He smiled softly to himself as he remembered his own wedding day with Anne, how anxious he had been as he waited for her arrival. He would have much preferred to run away and elope as opposed to having all the attention on them both, but he knew she wanted a proper ceremony and he wanted to do things right by her. “We should be starting soon. Are you ready?”

“I was ready the day she said yes.”

“You’re not going to burst into song, are you?”

“Shut up, you prick.” The pair laughed as the music that was playing quietly in the background swelled and a hush fell over the guests. The officiant walked over to Sebastian and Ominis, a large smile on his face as he shook both of their hands and they waited for the bridal party.

Sebastian watched with bated breath as the doors to the castle swung open right as the enchanted instruments started to play the bridal march. The guests stood and turned to watch Anne walk out first, gently leading both of her twins down the aisle. Arabella threw flower petals at random intervals while Alexander clung to his mothers skirts, a toothy grin coming over the toddler’s face as he noticed both his father and his uncle waiting at the other end of the aisle. Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh as Alexander wrapped his arms around his knees while Arabella ran for her father, the rest of the flower petals forgotten. He scooped his nephew into a hug and pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek before passing him off to Anne who gave his arm a gentle squeeze before standing on the other end of the altar.

Poppy and Imelda came out next, both of them looking beautiful in their bridesmaid dresses, with the former giving Sebastian an encouraging smile as the latter sent him a glare and mimed that she was watching him. He chuckled and pulled both of the girls in for a hug before they joined Anne, muttering to Imelda about how he knew she was secretly pleased they had finally decided to tie the knot. She flicked his shoulder, but there was an obvious smile on her face as she stood by Anne and Poppy. The music swelled and went quiet for a few moments before picking up again softly as Y/N appeared in the doorway.

Sebastian felt all the breath leave his lungs as she came into view and he unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest as she caught his eye and gave him a heart stopping smile. He felt his eyes burn as she started to walk towards him slowly and willed the music to play faster so she could reach him quicker and he could take her in his arms. Y/N had always been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen - even back when he had first met her - but the words did not do her justice in that moment as she practically floated down the aisle towards him.

“Breathe, Sebastian.” Ominis nudged him gently and he took in a shaky breath and quickly reached up to brush away a tear before it could escape. He couldn’t look away from her even if he wanted to. He would never be able to put into words how absolutely ethereal she looked, her white dress almost glowing in the afternoon sun. Y/N (finally) neared him and took his hand and Sebastian was hit with a sudden moment of realisation at just how lucky he was. He was so much closer to spending the rest of his life with his best friend and he couldn’t wait.

“Hey, you.” Y/N smiled shyly at him as she took her place by his side, his hand clutching onto hers tightly. Her gaze softened as she noticed the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes and reached up to brush them away gently. “Good tears, I hope?”

“Merlin, yes.” Sebastian breathed, his voice cracking slightly due to his emotions. “The best.” He resisted the urge to tug her against him and kiss her like they weren’t surrounded by their friends and family, and instead settled on standing a little closer than necessary and pressing his lips to her knuckles softly. “You are stunning.”

“Look who’s talking.” Y/N’s gaze ran over his suit appreciatively and his grip on her hand tightened fractionally as he remembered that they needed to get married first before he could whisk her away and have his way with her. He was vaguely aware of the officiant starting the ceremony, sharing anecdotes about love and friendship that he couldn’t pay attention to as he stared at the woman standing in front of him. He didn’t know what he had done in a past life to deserve her, but he would spend every day of the rest of his life - the rest of their lives - showing her just how much she meant to him.

“I love you,” he mouthed the words, his lips twitching into a smile as he watched her flush delicately.

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He frowned playfully and shook his head as she continued to stare at him with pure adoration on her features.

Neither of them could believe this day was finally here. If anyone had told Sebastian and Y/N when they first met all those years ago that they would be standing where it all started, surrounded by their loved ones, both of them would have blushed and stuttered in protest; but here they were, and Sebastian could think of nowhere else in the world he would rather be. He always thought his favourite version of Y/N would be her first thing in the morning, and that had been true from the very first moment he had woken with her in his arms two years ago up until that exact moment. Nothing would ever compare to how completely and utterly captivating she was, looking like his own personal divine being.

“...Sebastian?” Y/N muttered his name, a coy smile playing on her face.

“Sorry. I’m here,” he offered the officiant a sheepish smile and shrugged one of his shoulders while tilting his head in Y/N’s direction as if to say, can you blame me? “Could you repeat that, please?”

“Do you, Sebastian Sallow, take Y/N Y/L/N to be your wife? To - ”

“I do.” The minister, as well as their audience, laughed as Sebastian interrupted with a cheeky smile on his face as he glanced at Y/N. He had waited so long for this moment and now that it was here he just wanted to skip forward to the most important part. He knew he should be a little more patient and show some restraint, but had been waiting for this for longer than he would ever admit. He wanted to be able to finally call Y/N his wife.

“Very well, then.” The preacher turned to Y/N, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Sebastian Sallow to be your husband? To live together in matrimony, to love, honour, comfort and to keep in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” A tear slipped down Y/N’s face as she took in the look of pure devotion on Sebastian’s face. She had never been more sure of a decision in her entire life.

“You each have a ring for the other,” the officiant looked between the pair, taking note of both of their living smiles and unshed tears. “These are placed on each other’s fingers as a visible sign of the vows which you have taken today which have bound you both together as husband and wife. I hope they always remind you of your promise and love for each other.” He looked over at Sebastian, who in turn took the ring from Ominis’ outstretched hand. He thought his hands would shake during this part, but they remained steady as he slipped the ring on Y/N’s finger, his heart thumping in his chest as he did so.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” He brushed a stray tear from Y/N’s face and gently kissed the piece of jewellery before letting her turn to Anne so she could get his ring.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” She repeated the vow back to him, her voice wavering slightly as she slid the wedding band onto his ring finger, the metal gleaming in the afternoon sun.

“I’ve been told you have both been through many adventures together, but let us begin this one with a kiss. I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Sebastian was already tugging Y/N towards him before the words were finished, both of his hands resting on her waist as he dipped down to press his lips to hers. He thought his heart was about to beat out of his chest as she wound her hands up to the back of his head and pulled him in closer, the crowd fading out of his mind as he held onto her tightly. Imelda whistled loudly as their kiss lasted long enough to be indecent and Y/N broke away to laugh, her face flushing as Sebastian tried to chase her lips and pull her back into another kiss. She grinned at him and pressed a sweet, chaste peck on his lips.

“How do you feel about being a married man, Mr Sallow?”

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Mrs Sallow.”

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x fem!reader #hogwarts game #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #awkwardauthor #awkwardauthorwrites #awkwardauthormasterlist

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fbwzoo · 3 years

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Hagrid was waiting exactly at the food tray spot when I put it back, so he got the new buffet served right to him! He didn't even budge while I set it down, then immediately dug in with a mealworm. I love him!

#crablr #inverteblr #hermit crabs #land hermit crabs #purple pinchers #my pets #lord of the crabbies #he went for the pear after that #he's a good boy #most of mine are much jumpier about approaches and hands #Hagrid is pretty chill #possibly bc he's so old #he's lived through a lot of shit to get to me #i hope i can give him a satisfactory home for the rest of his years

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years

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To Fight When You Feel Like Flying (part one)

did i plan to post this today? no. did i want to wait till tomorrow? yes.

am i involved in an angst war right now? yes. are @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i going to win? yes.

so, hence, here’s the next installment of the ward au. as always if you’re new, here’s my masterpost so you can read hold onto me, you’re all i have from the beginning.

also, as this is part of the angst war, this is a dark story!!! so here’s are your warnings, kids: sexual assault (brief, very brief), discussions of sexual assault, violence, death, threats, panic attacks... i think that about covers it.

anyway, if you choose to proceed, i hope you enjoy the affectionately named part 3.5.

[Part 1: Life Turns Plans Up On Their Heads]

katherine had happily thrown herself back into lessons over the past few weeks, but jane couldn’t help but notice slight changes in katherine’s behaviour since the incident with mannox. she was jumpier, with any little noise that even slightly sounded like a door opening or footsteps approaching making her freeze, almost like a startled rabbit whose ears twitch at danger. parr, apparently, notices it too, and after one lesson she comments as such to jane.

“i’m not sure what the problem is exactly,” she says quietly as katherine tidies away her school books. “but i imagine the... incident a little while ago didn’t help things.”

jane had to agree; she had noticed it to. there had been a day recently where she had entered katherine's room and, as she was closing the door, a draft caught it and slammed it.

jane could have sworn katherine's entire body jumped off the bed.

"i don't quite know what to do," jane says. "i want to help her, but i just...don't know how."

parr puts a kind hand on her shoulder. in the time parr had been at court, she and jane had grown close enough to call each other friends. "you'll figure it out, jane, you always do."

jane hopes parr was right, that she would figure out what to do about katherine being so nervous. she spends as much time as possible with her, hoping that jane’s presence will help her relax, and for the most part it does. katherine had become clingier over the past few weeks, too, and spent as much time as possible at jane’s side and preferably curled up against her. however, even in these times katherine doesn’t seem completely calm. one evening, jane is reading on the couch with katherine curled against her side, a comforting arm resting over katherine’s shoulders, when a gust of wind causes a tree branch to tap against the window. katherine sits bolt upright and jane looks at her, concerned.

“are you alright, love?”

katherine doesn’t move, eyes fixed on the window. when it becomes clear that someone isn’t breaking in she shrinks back down slightly, cheeks tinted pink.

“yes, i’m fine.”

while jane can’t complain about having her girl tucked against her so frequently, she hates how fearful katherine is.

she leans back against the sofa, letting katherine fall back into her arms. she lifts a hand and lets her fingers play at some of katherine’s hair lightly, and katherine makes an odd little noise and clings tighter to jane.

“katherine, darling,” jane says quietly, “love of my life, what has you so rattled?”

the response that comes is so quiet, jane’s brain initially thinks katherine said nothing at all.

“what if they come back?” katherine had whispered. “what if they find me again?”

it doesn’t take long for jane to realise who “they” were, and her heart aches for the girl. the horrifying part was that it wasn’t outside the realm of believability; mannox already knew where katherine was, and he’d already attempted to get to her before. what was to stop him trying again? or dereham?

she was, jane decides, mind firm. jane would stop them if they even came within a hundred yards of the palace. as long as jane was alive, she swears that they wouldn’t touch katherine again.

“i won’t let them, love,” jane says with a kiss on her head. “i promise.”

katherine doesn’t relax, and it hurts jane’s heart.

as early as the next morning, jane was taking action to help relieve katherine’s anxiety. she orders more guards to patrol around the palace grounds, through the halls, around katherine’s room. it does only a little to make her feel safer, but katherine is still utterly terrified that mannox and dereham will somehow find some way to court.

they’ll find her.

jane won’t be able to keep her safe.

her fear spikes dramatically one day when she hears rumour of a new courtier due to arrive within the next week or so who had apparently been living in Ireland for several months before returning to England. she knows it’s a long shot, but francis dereham had moved to ireland after... katherine squeezes her eyes shut and leans against the wall. she doesn’t want to think about it. doesn’t want to contemplate the idea of dereham having tracked her down. it’s enough to make her set off down the corridor in a run, despite the looks she got from other courtiers who disapproved of such ‘unladylike’ behaviour, desperate to find jane for comfort.

jane had just concluded a meeting and was walking back towards her chambers when she suddenly collided with someone who was moving at a breakneck speed.

“goodness!” she cries. “do watch where-“

she looks up at the figure who she ran into, and sees her daughter’s frightened face.

“kitty-kat?” she asks gently, any trace of malice disappearing immediately. “whatever is the matter, love?”

katherine fidgets with her hands, looking down. “i’m scared, mum.”

jane tried to catch her eyes, softening her tone even more. “scared of what, darling?”

katherine can’t bring herself to answer, instead throwing her arms around jane and trying to stop herself from trembling.

jane holds katherine close, confused but determined to comfort katherine. she follows the familiar soothing patterns; one hand gently tracing circles on katherine’s back, the other running fingers through the hair at the back of katherine’s head.

“i’ve got you, love,” she murmurs softly. “now, what is it you’re scared of?”

“the new courtier,” katherine admits lamely, feeling stupid and childlike.

“oh, love,” jane says gently. “i’ve heard he’s quite lovely. he’s a hard-worker, very nice man.” she kisses katherine’s forehead. “we’ll get you two acquainted soon enough, and if you still aren’t happy, we can have him leave, alright?”

“it’s not that,” katherine mumbles, stomach twisting uncomfortably. “i’m worried that he’s...” she trails off, not quite sure how to explain. it seems silly to her now that she’s immediately assume it was dereham, just because he was living in Ireland. plenty of men visited ireland. katherine was making a huge fuss over nothing, just like always. jane pauses, waiting for katherine to continue, but when she doesn’t say anything more jane pulls back slightly.

“worried he’s what, love?”

katherine’s blood wells in her cheeks. she doesn’t want to worry jane, especially since it’s far more likely the man in question wasn’t dereham.

“just worried,” she mumbles, hoping to sound convincing.

jane studies her for a moment, before kissing her forehead again, letting her lips linger.

“if you’re sure, love,” she says when she pulls away. “but you know you can always come to me, right kat?”

katherine gives a half-nod and pulls away, wandering away down the hall alone.

---

her fears, as it would turn out, were completely well-founded.

four nights later, she’s preparing for bed when there is a sharp, smart knock on her door.

it doesn’t sound unlike percival, who would sometimes join her for tea at night, so she opens the door.

and comes face to face with francis dereham himself.

“it’s been a while, little kat,” he purrs, giving a slight laugh at the terror in her eyes. he invites himself in and closes the door, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “if you even breathe one word about our little flint to the queen or king, i will personally make your life hell,” he snarls, looking down at her.

katherine is so struck with terror that she can barely manage a nod, taking tentative steps backwards until she collides with the wall. dereham smiles at her, apparently pleased with how afraid she is.

“that’s a good girl,” he smirks. “you just stay nice and quiet and everything will be okay. am i understood?”

again, katherine nods, eyes wide and shrinking back.

“good little kat,” he coos, and katherine shivers at his tone. he sounds like he cares, like he loves her. but he doesn’t, she knows. there’s only one thing he wants and katherine will not give it to him.

“maybe if you’re really good,” he says, lowering his voice more, “we can continue where we left off.” he steps closer, placing one hand on the wall near her head. their bodies are nearly touching. “we can continue where we left off.”

katherine’s mind is almost overrun with terror, and the only thing she can thinking about is that she won’t let this happen to herself again. “no,” she manages to say, voice trembling. dereham looks almost surprised.

“no? but we were going to get married, my little kat. don’t you want to marry me?” his voice is full of sadness that katherine knows for a fact is false. he’d always promised marriage, and yet he ran off to ireland the second it was convenient for him.

“no,” she says again, slightly firmer this time.

his fake little pout turns to a sinister smile. “don’t worry, my little kat, you’ll be mine once again.” he leans down so there is barely any space between their faces. “if you dare tell a soul about us, you are going to wish i had never come back from ireland.”

he leans in and kisses her, chaste yet deep, before pulling back. “still as sweet as all those months ago, my little kat.”

he stands up straight and saunters back. “soon you’ll be begging me for more.”

he leaves with a smirk and katherine’s legs no longer want to hold her up. she sinks to the floor, wiping desperately at her lips with the back of her hand, trying to scrub all trace of him from her. katherine wasn’t safe here, she knew she wouldn’t ever be safe again, not while dereham was around.

she wipes and wipes at her mouth, increasingly aggressively, until she tastes blood from her teeth digging into her lip. the sting of pain gives her a brief moment of clarity and pulls her out of her movements; she drops her hands and takes a moment to think. her room wasn’t safe, the guards had failed her. the next safe place was Jane’s room. at least if she was with jane, dereham couldn’t do anything to her. she couldn’t tell jane what had happened, but it wasn’t unusual for jane to let her sleep in her bed after a nightmare. if only katherine could stop herself from shaking enough to stand.

it takes several minutes for her shaking to subside enough for her to be able to stand again.

as she makes her way to jane’s room, she realizes that the trembling in her legs and shoulders only makes her story more believable.

she knocks quietly upon reaching jane’s door, and hears a soft ‘come in’.

she opens the door and sees jane sitting up in bed, reading.

“hey kat,” she greets, “what’s-“

as soon as she sees katherine’s trembling form, the faintest hint of dried blood on her cheeks, she drops all thought that this was just a casual visit. she puts her book on the night table and opens her arms to katherine.

katherine runs straight into jane’s arms, practically collapsing into them. having jane with her was almost like a switch in her brain, finally letting her release the emotion that had been held back by terror when she was alone. she bursts into tears, clinging onto jane and never wanting to leave her arms again.

“kitty-kat,” jane whispers softly, concern filling her voice. “what’s happened, love?”

the relief jane brought to katherine lowers her defenses to the point where she nearly slips and spills, but she catches herself at the last minute.

“nightmare,” she mumbles faintly.

jane can tell that katherine isn’t telling the whole truth to her, there’s something more that she isn’t sharing, but jane never wants to push katherine beyond her comfort zone.

so she simply runs her fingers gently through katherine’s hair and holds her close.

jane, naturally, lets katherine stay once she’s cried herself out, letting katherine curl up against her. katherine still lets out tiny whimpers from time to time, and jane just knows in her heart that this was bigger than a nightmare. if nothing else, the tiny smears of blood on katherine’s cheeks worry her. it takes katherine a long time to fall asleep and jane stays awake for a little while longer, making sure katherine is okay.

she shuffles down enough to be lying flat, and katherine lets out a small noise and curls up against her tighter, not wanting to let go for even a second.

jane kisses her forehead and puts all the love possible in her embrace.

---

katherine is impossibly quiet the next morning, and it just tips jane off further that something is most definitely the matter.

jane, unfortunately, doesn't remember katherine's anxiety about the new courtier when he is formally presented to the royal family at half past eleven.

henry sits formal and straight in his throne, jane primly at his right, katherine doing her best to look the same next to her.

she knows that jane has no idea who dereham is, what he is to katherine. jane knew about mannox, had for a long time, but katherine had never told her who dereham was. these thoughts are cut short by the royal barrister's announcement.

"may i present before the royal court, mister francis dereham."

dereham steps forwards and bows deeply. he makes eye contact with katherine very briefly as he stands back upright and a shiver runs down her spine. she tries not to let the discomfort show on her face as dereham gives a charming smile to the king and queen.

“your majesties, i am honoured to have an audience with you,” he says with a flourish.

henry gives dereham a smile. “well we are honoured to have a man of your status with us today, and we welcome to you to court.”

as henry speaks, jane studies dereham’s mannerisms. he is familiar for some reason, even though jane knows she’s never met the man. it’s almost as if he has some significance that jane just can’t place.

she glances sidelong at katherine to see if she felt anything similar about the man, but as soon as she lays eyes on the girl her heart practically stops.

jane knows her daughter. she especially knows what katherine looks like when she’s scared, thanks to more than a few night terrors. the way katherine looks now, as much as she seems to be trying to hide it, holds all the telltale signs of katherine being absolutely terrified, and it’s all directed at the man standing in front of them.

jane subtly reaches over and takes katherine’s hand, and her heart aches all that much more at the way the girl practically clings to her.

something was most definitely wrong here.

it’s another agonizing twenty minutes of jane letting katherine hold so tightly to her hand it nearly hurt before dereham’s meeting is concluded. jane rises to her feet and goes to gently pull katherine to the door when she’s stopped by dereham.

“excuse me, your majesty,” he says suavely, but jane is beginning to see beyond his facade, “could i please have a few moments alone with lady katherine?”

“i’m afraid,” jane says in a slightly clipped tone, “that katherine has some duties to attend to. i’m sure if you have anything you wish to say to my daughter that urgently then you can say it in front of me. if not, then we really need to be going.” jane doesn’t know what’s going on, but she does know she’s not going to leave katherine alone with this man, whoever he is.

dereham’s face drops for a moment before the suave grin is back, hiding his displeasure. “it would only take a moment, your majesty.”

his insistence is even more off-putting than the request in the first place, and it just makes jane all the more sure that she will not be leaving katherine alone with dereham. at all.

“well,” she says, somewhat pointedly as she puts an arm around katherine’s shoulders. doing so let’s her feel just how tense katherine is, and jane swears she can feel katherine’s heart racing.

mother’s intuition, perhaps?

“i-“ he starts, then clears his throat. “i’ll come and speak to you later, lady katherine.”

he flashes his eyes dangerously at her, reminding her of last night’s conversation, before exiting the room.

jane leads katherine back to their rooms as quickly as she can, and the second the door closes behind them she turns to face her, concern filling her face.

“kat,” she says gently, “who was that man? you know him, don’t you?”

katherine wants nothing more than to tell jane everything but she’s so, so scared. scared of what dereham would do when he finds out that she’d told. she shakes her head once, not quite looking at jane. jane sighs quietly and brings one hand up to gently cup katherine’s cheek, running her thumb in a soft arc over her cheekbone.

“i know you, kat,” she murmurs. “and i know that you recognised him. please, tell me so I can help.”

katherine is silent for a long time, her brain going a mile a minute as she tries to decide what to do.

a seemingly random and insignificant memory bubbles to the surface from her second day in service to the queen; together in her tiny working chambers, jane was holding her as she talked about-

dereham.

even in her terrified and rattled state, katherine had worked out a way to tell jane without actually telling her anything. because she had, long before promising dereham anything at all.

“he was the secretary,” she says hollowly, hoping jane gets the underlying message, “at my step-grandma’s house.”

jane hadn’t forgotten the conversation and realisation begins to flood through her. two emotions begin to stir in jane’s chest; one, white-hot anger at dereham, the other a fierce protectiveness. she pulls katherine into a tight hug and katherine, realising that jane understood, clings tightly to her.

“oh, kat,” jane whispers. “i won’t let him come near you again. i’m not going to leave your side until he’s gone, he can’t do anything while i’m around.” a thought strikes her and her expression hardens, although her embrace is still soft and gentle. “he’ll pay for what he’s done,” she vows, voice barely audible.

katherine can’t decide how those words make her feel. were they true? would dereham actually be brought to justice? would katherine finally be free?

“we have no proof,” she whimpers, accidentally speaking aloud.

jane herself hadn’t contemplated that.

“we’ll find a way, my little seymour,” she kisses katherine’s hairline. “i promise he won’t come near you. he will be brought to justice.”

neither of them were quite sure how it would happen, despite the conviction in jane’s voice. they wouldn’t be able to take the case to the king, not before they came up with a plan. one thing they could do immediately, though, was jane’s plan of making sure katherine was constantly by her side.

for the next week, katherine sleeps in jane’s bed, sits next to her mother as they eat, and waits in the corner of various meeting rooms as jane conducts her queenly business, quietly getting on with some studying. when jane isn’t able to be with katherine for any reason the responsibility is taken up by parr who, despite not knowing what the situation is about, is happy to fulfil this task when jane asks her to. jane wants to be sure that dereham will never be able to catch katherine alone.

dereham had noticed the queen’s sudden taking of katherine to her side, never leaving her alone. he knows that katherine must have spilled - otherwise jane wouldn’t have been so possessive and protective.

he warned her.

jane and katherine are walking back toward katherine’s chambers when a female shriek echoes out.

they run to the doorway and see eleanor, pale as a sheet, pointing a shaking hand toward the mirror at kat’s vanity.

the mirror was cracked, as if it had been punched.

in blood red paint, was lettered, “you were warned, my little kat.”

katherine is frozen in terror, staring at the words painted onto her mirror. jane, on the other hand, feels nothing but anger.

how dare this man, who’d already caused katherine so much trauma, come back and try to ruin katherine’s life again? jane’s mind is already racing with precautions she needs to take; two guards outside of any room she and katherine were in at all times, extra patrols around the castle, entrusting percival with keeping an eye fixed on dereham to catch his next move. there was one advantage they gained from this event, which dereham probably didn’t even realise when he committed it. they now had evidence someone in the castle was threatening the ward of the queen, with several witnesses, and that meant all the security they had could be devoted to finding evidence of the culprit. they had a lead on dereham.

she pushes all of those thoughts aside, however, and pulls katherine into a light hug.

katherine’s knees give out and she clings tightly to jane. she feels her mum rub light circles on her back and run fingers through her hair, but they don’t bring the normal comfort.

if anything, it makes it worse.

she remembers his hands in her hair.

she remembers his hands on her back.

she remembers the way he held her down.

katherine, in a fit of panic, tears back from jane, looking at her with hazy fear.

“he’s going to find me,” she whispers, looking down at her trembling hands.

“he won’t,” jane insists. “i promise you, i won’t let him.”

katherine is too deep in her spiral though, and she isn’t listening. all she can do is mumble “he’s gonna find me,” again and again as her body becomes a dead weight and she sinks to the floor.

it breaks jane’s heart to see katherine like this, and it only solidifies her belief that she needs to bring dereham to justice. but first, she needs to find a way to calm katherine down.

she lowers herself to her knees and tries to catch katherine’s eyes without making contact at all.

“kat, love,” she says quietly. “it’s okay. it’s all okay.”

“he’s gonna find me,” she whimpers again.

“he won’t,” jane tries to assure her. “he won’t get to you.”

“he will!” katherine covers her face with her hands and draws her knees up. jane doesn’t want to trigger anything worse in katherine, but she knows if she doesn’t get katherine’s focus now then she’ll spiral even further, so she reaches out and places a gentle hand on katherine’s shoulder, hoping the contact will calm her rather than scare her. luckily katherine doesn’t seem to react negatively to the touch and so jane begins to speak.

“listen to me, kitty-kat,” she says, voice gentle but firm. “please, trust me. i’m going to make sure you’re safe, i promise you, kat.”

katherine looks up at her with wide, tearful eyes. she looks so young and helpless that jane heart hurts even more.

“i promise you, katherine seymour,” she says as she brings a hand to katherine’s cheek, “you are safe here.”

“you couldn’t save me!” katherine wails, and suddenly she sees herself with dereham in front of her like that first night, his lips on hers.

“kat-” jane starts desperately, but katherine’s mind has fallen into panic. she can’t see jane in front of her any more, just the looming, tall figure who hunted her down and came back to take everything from her. she shoves jane roughly away and scrambles to her feet unsteadily, turning on her heels and breaking into a run.

katherine runs out of the palace and into the woods, pathetically sobbing and shaking the whole way.

she drops herself down by the riverbank, alone, crying desperately.

she feels so alone, so scared, so helpless.

and she really doesn’t know what to do.

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #katherine howard #catherine parr #julie and jess write #to fight when you feel like flying #hold onto me you're all i have

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ampharos-writes · 4 years

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Shadows

Author’s note: This is the first of a series of pieces that I wrote as flavor text for a game of Forum Mafia, hence some of the... more awkward indulgences with regard to naming convention. It’s essentially spoiler-free Magnus Archives fanfiction - similar formatting and theme, but with none of the actual characters or plot from the source material. Hopefully it’s decent.

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Preliminary Note: The Mafia Institute is an organization dedicated to the discovery and research of... paranormal phenomena. The following documents are eyewitness statements of events that, according to the authors, are… supernatural in nature. In most cases, followup investigation into these witness statements are performed so as to both verify the claim itself and, having done so, dig further into the nature of the incident in question.

As a personal note, I… tend to have my doubts about the veracity of most of these statements. So many details are unverifiable, possibly the result of one too many substances in the blood, or one too many blows to the head, or simple misinterpretations of perfectly natural phenomena due to trauma. For the sake of completion, however, I have included these statements anyways, as it’s preferable to unemployment.

I am, first and foremost, an academic. For one in a position such as mine to lend any credibility to the presumed existence of the supernatural at all would be considered borderline lunacy at any respectable institution. Still, I find myself... drawn to it. There must be a reason this place exists, that it has such a... robust archive. If there's a grain of truth within this desert of useless fluff, I'll be the one to find it.

- Amy A. Ampharos, Head Archivist, The Mafia Institute

Statement #0130724

Author’s Name: Alexander Heard

Nature of Incident: Electrical failures while working the night shift at the Dallas Museum of Art

Date and Location: July 21st, 2013, Dallas, Texas, United States

Statement

I’ve always liked the night. It’s part of why I took this job in the first place. Instead of blinding sunlight in your face every time you look the wrong way, instead of the heat of an angry Texas sun beating you into the ground and extracting every bit of moisture from your body, you can enjoy the gentle glow of streetlamps, and feel the refreshing cool of a nighttime breeze - or, well, that’s not quite right. It is the middle of July, after all, so I suppose it’s less a refreshing cool and more of a… pleasantly lingering warmth. The intensity of a summer day, tempered down into a level that’s actually tolerable for human life.

Not to say that there’s generally a lot of human life AROUND at night. I think that’s another part of why I took this job. I’ve never been much of a people person - I HATE talking to strangers, I get tongue tied, trip over my words, never know the right thing to say - but the nights are… quiet. Peaceful. I’ve got all the time in the world to exist inside my own head, just me and my thoughts. When I realized I was qualified to be the night guard at the DMA, three years ago when the listing was first posted, I jumped at the chance. Judging by how quickly the hire was, I’m guessing there were few other applicants. Maybe I was the only one.

I know a lot of people would be unnerved in my position, but I don’t think I ever was. The DMA is huge, sure, and almost all of the overhead lights are on timers, so it gets… fairly dark in there. Not as dark as you’d think, though. Many of the pieces have permanent LEDs illuminating them, such that they’re able to be viewed optimally regardless of external lighting conditions, and these AREN’T deactivated at night, meaning that even without a flashlight it’s fairly possible to navigate - ESPECIALLY when you’ve been there every night for 3 years, without anything to do except walk around and look for the sort of art thieves that never seem to consider Texas a viable target.

The one thing that COULD rattle me, though, were the shadows. When you’ve got such strong lights, positioned at such specific angles, surrounded by such pervasive darkness… you start to see things, out of your peripheral. Things that aren’t there when you turn around. Things that aren’t there at all, really, but your mind plays tricks on you. Patches of vision with such little visual information, interspersed so irregularly in front of your eyes… it’s easy to get jumpy.

Still, three years came and went, mostly quietly. Hopelessly lost college kids somehow wandering all the way over from Deep Ellum were the most I ever had to deal with back then. The memory feels like a lifetime ago. Funny what adrenaline does to whatever part of the brain it is that processes time.

It was two nights ago, when it… happened. I was making my rounds, same as usual, when I heard glass breaking from a ways away. Sounded to me like it was coming from near the front entrance, but I couldn’t be sure. Still, I was already on edge that night. Jumpier than usual. Something about the museum seemed… eerie. Foreboding. Couldn’t put my finger on it, but it had me sprinting towards the front, one hand on my baton, before my brain had even processed what was happening. Before it had even processed that none of the museum’s multiple, violently loud alarms were going off.

It must have been around 3 in the morning at this point, and the arts district tends to be pretty dim that late at night, but there should have at least been enough ambient light from the simple realities of existing in the middle of a huge metropolis that I could tell what was going on when I approached the admissions desk. But from where I was standing, across the threshold in the next gallery over, I could see that it was pitch black. There were no exhibits in the main foyer, and the LEDs from the ones next to me didn’t seem to be making a dent in the matte black before me. I fumbled for my flashlight, which I hadn’t really needed up to this point, and flicked it on. It feebly flickered to life, as if the mere act of illumination was some enormous strain, and cast a pathetic-looking beam that barely penetrated 3 yards into the black. I was going to have to walk in, and I was going to have to walk in mostly blind.

Or maybe entirely blind. Because the instant I steeled myself for the task ahead of me, preparing my Important Security Person voice, my flashlight flickered once, then twice, then died completely. I shook it a little on reflex, but I knew with a strange degree of clarity that it wasn’t coming back on. I should have called out by now, but there was an indescribable pit of dread that had wormed its way deep into my stomach that had me frozen in place, unable to move. Had it always been so cold in the museum?

Then I heard the footsteps. Soft, slow, steady, their gentle rhythm almost hypnotic… until the first LED shattered, shaking me from my trance in a shower of glass and terror. I won’t talk myself up, try to pretend I’m something I’m not - I dropped my flashlight, spun around, and bolted out of there as fast as my trembling legs would carry me.

From behind me, I heard the pace of the footsteps increase to match mine, though their pace was much more even and the sound still impossibly soft, almost impossible to hear over the rising cacophany of blown bulbs, trailing my escape in a glittering confetti that my overworked mind was too preoccupied to fully comprehend. There was no plan, no conscious effort to formulate my route, not even any real idea of my final destination. Any direction was fine, as long as it was forward. Any room was ok, as long as there was light. There was something in that darkness, and I did not want to know what it was.

The rest of it’s a little hazy. I remember how cold it was, the hairs on my arms ramrod straight as they pumped manically to propel me forward, my teeth threatening to part my tongue from my body with how hard they were chattering. They might have almost succeeded, actually, because I also remember - the smell of it thick in my nostrils like a somehow-sour iron, and maybe even the taste of it in my mouth, though I can’t say for sure. I’m told my hands were bloody when the police found me, but I couldn’t tell you why that would be the case. I remember rounding corners, vaulting benches, skidding around displays. I remember finally reaching a room with only one entrance, coming to a dead halt, watching with mounting dread as the LEDs around the perimeter slowly popped, one by one. I remember staring into the darkness as the final bulbs started to burst, and I remember the unshakable, undoubtable, impossible feeling that the darkness was staring back.

And then… nothing. Next thing I know, I was on the ground, staring groggily up at an EMT, police officers moving around in the background. My phone was on the ground next to me, the screen already turned on, the way-too-bright brightness setting forcing me to blink a few times and squint hard before I could determine that it was almost 5 AM. Apparently a passing third-shifter had noticed the broken glass at the entrance and called the police - not that that explained the missing hour-and-a-half in my memory, but it was a satisfying enough explanation for the way things had finally ended.

Their search of the museum proved fruitless. Aside from the broken window and busted bulbs, nothing was out of place, and if they found the guy that broke in, I didn’t hear about it. As soon as the EMTs figured out that nothing was wrong with me - which, due to the bloody hands, took a bit longer than I would have liked - they let me walk. I went home, passed out with the sunrise streaming in through my bedroom window, and immediately put in for some time off when I woke up.

I think I’m gonna ask to be transferred dayside when I come back.

Supplementary Comments

Dark corridors and strange shadows do have their ways of playing tricks on the mind. Ara was able to obtain the police report and, while details are scant due to the case still being open, they seem to match up with Mr. Heard’s description. Further details are, of course, unverifiable - I had Lissa contact museum staff, but apparently their entire security system experienced an electrical failure that night, which means no CCTV footage and no record of the alarm system.

We reached out to Mr. Heard, but he had no interest in giving a followup, or communicating with us any further. He did mention that he had found a 9-5 job and had no interest in returning to “that smothering darkness” before he hung up, but I struggle to see that as anything other than a perfectly natural response to what his mind perceived as a traumatic experience - flowery turns of phrase notwithstanding. My gut reaction is to chalk the entire thing up to a bored and paranoid man experiencing a terrifying delusion and giving himself some nasty glass cuts in the process.

There is… one thing, though, that I found somewhat unusual. I’ve been to the Dallas Museum of Art previously, of course, and decided to go pay a visit myself after Mr. Heard gave us his statement - partially as a sort of cursory investigation and partially, I’ll admit, for pleasure. It shouldn’t be surprising to hear that I didn’t find anything explicitly suspicious. I did notice, however, that they had at some point reorganized their collection of landscapes, and that all the ones previously on exhibit were night scenes.

- Amy A. Ampharos, Head Archivist

October 17th, 2013

#fiction #the magnus archives #tma #fanfic #short story

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courtneytincher · 5 years

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Saudi Attacks Haven’t Spooked Oil Enough

(Bloomberg Opinion) -- Five bucks? Are you kidding me?A mysterious attack took out almost six million barrels a day of Saudi Arabian oil supply, and almost a week later we’re up less than the price of a beer. Which means the market worked. Prices spiked in the immediate aftermath, and then soothing words from Saudi Arabia calmed everyone down to the point they remembered how bleak things look for oil in 2020. So prices fell again, albeit not the whole way back; after all, explosions are unsettling things – more unsettling than the price indicates, in this case.Caught between the trade war and flashes of actual war, oil seems more preoccupied with the former. Saudi Arabia’s press conference on Tuesday was actually more ambiguous on the status of the country’s production than oil’s relief retreat implied. Still, it was enough for a broadly bearish market.The most obvious risk that persists is retaliation. Both Saudi Arabia and the U.S. blame Iran for the attacks, and the risk of a counterstrike and further escalation is more gray than black swan now. The less-obvious risk concerns insurance.The oil market relies on a lot of insurance, but insurance only works if you can count on it. And two of oil’s most important policies now look more ambiguous.One is Saudi Arabia’s spare production capacity. The market treats this like oil inventories, only better, because it is effectively inexhaustible. Saudi Arabia’s 2.3 million barrels a day of it account for two-thirds of the world’s buffer (and much of the rest is in neighboring Gulf states). While the vulnerabilities of a critical site such as Abqaiq have been war-gamed for years, few actually expected a direct attack of this magnitude. Even by Saudi Arabia’s (likely optimistic) estimates, this previously seemingly untouchable capacity won’t be fully available until the end of November.The other is something like a reinsurance policy supporting that spare capacity: U.S. security guarantees. Since Secretary of State Mike Pompeo’s swift accusation against Iran and President Donald Trump’s “locked and loaded” tweet, the White House has struck a more equivocal posture, swinging between threats and calls for diplomacy. Trump has also emphasized that while he backs Saudi Arabia, America’s own surging oil supply makes it less reliant on the region.This may reflect mere political expediency, as U.S. involvement in a Middle Eastern conflict that sends pump prices higher would be a disastrous backdrop to Trump’s reelection campaign.It is striking nonetheless that Washington has stayed its hand despite apparent certainty of Iran’s role in an attack on oil’s holy of holies. And the equivocation cannot be wholly dismissed, given the context of America’s newly transactional approach to alliances and guarantees that once seemed to be fixed points on the geopolitical map. Trump is more Barter Doctrine than Carter Doctrine.Oil retains other insurance policies. The futures market is one, although there has been a marked withdrawal by speculative money of late, whiplashed by the unexpected and succumbing to a broader apathy toward energy in general.There are also physical stocks such as the Strategic Petroleum Reserve and almost 3 billion barrels of commercial inventory in the OECD countries. While less clear, China may hold roughly another 820 to 940 million barrels of strategic and commercial stocks, Michal Meidan at the Oxford Institute for Energy Studies estimates.Yet stocks are also an imperfect insurance policy. Mechanisms such as the collective releases envisioned for members of the International Energy Agency have seldom been used, even when oil prices spiked to economy-threatening levels. Trump’s tweets about the SPR last weekend suggested no coordination with other IEA members. In a real pinch, there’s a strong impulse to hoard rather than distribute for the greater good.The unifying theme here is, oddly enough, fragmentation. As Sarah Ladislaw and Nikos Tsafos of the Center for Strategic and International Studies wrote in a report published the day before the Saudi attacks:For several decades, energy security has been defined and pursued in a multilateral world with relatively open markets and technology transfer, where energy relations have become increasingly commodified. But that world may soon disappear - energy relationships might become more political, open trade might give way to friction, and great powers might leverage energy relations or energy technology to gain an edge over each other. Oil’s postwar rise to preeminence in energy has been a testament to globalization, underwritten largely by muscular U.S. commitment to free markets. Oil became ubiquitous not merely because it is useful but because we regard it as effectively ubiquitous.Energy dominance, like trade war, is a radical departure from the world we have known, whereby the free flow of molecules cannot necessarily be taken for granted. One of the biggest developments in energy of the past two decades is the increasing globalization of regional natural gas markets, making them more like oil. But it’s possible we’re entering a period where oil is reversing to meet gas in its less-integrated arena.We aren’t there yet. But energy’s vital importance means national interest asserts itself quickly if confidence in the security of supply deteriorates. A more disjointed energy market is a jumpier energy market, which in turn pushes importers to seek alternatives for strategic reasons, on top of existing climate concerns. The week that began with explosions in oil’s heartland is, after all, ending with mass protests against it across the world. Those explosions in Saudi Arabia didn’t change the world; rather, they illuminated that which is changing already.To contact the author of this story: Liam Denning at [email protected] contact the editor responsible for this story: Mark Gongloff at [email protected] column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.Liam Denning is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering energy, mining and commodities. He previously was editor of the Wall Street Journal's Heard on the Street column and wrote for the Financial Times' Lex column. He was also an investment banker.For more articles like this, please visit us at bloomberg.com/opinion©2019 Bloomberg L.P.

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