#no wait I went and found it. it’s ‘when lion could fly: and other tales from africa’

[forestials]

Tulkas is a cat person. There is no textual evidence for this but I read it on Tumblr and now I have accepted it.

#the silmarillion #tulkas #my art #very much inspired by outofangband’s tulkas headcanons which I love! #why did I pick a serval? no one asks #I found my childhood book of African folktales called ‘how the serval got his spots’ or something like that #and was catapulted (no pun intended) back to a happy place #no wait I went and found it. it’s ‘when lion could fly: and other tales from africa’ #HIGHLY recommend #anyway sorry yes #I’ve drawn tulkas before but this is a younger more elven looking version #if I can’t draw ridiculously shiny hair then what’s the point #valar #ainur #the silmarillion art #tolkien art #forestials art

[willadisastercry]

Space godzilla meets Keith and Pidge bonding moment

tw: depiction of paralyzation of the body and of throat/mouth

Of the list of terrifyingly dangerous alien monsters they’d come across, this one is near the top. After crash landing on an unfamiliar planet, the pair find themselves getting well acquainted with the local wildlife on their unexpected sojourn. They also get better acquainted with each other as they struggle against this beast and with the injuries from the battle that just keep getting more terrifying.

(((Keith and Pidge sharing emotional intimacy while one of them is hurt or both are is an ELITE trope and you cannot tell me otherwise)))

“GAH!”

“Are you sure you don’t need assistance?! I can probably get a hold of it’s tale with my bayard...”

“I’m good, just... this thing is relentless. It doesn’t have a single weakness except I don’t think it can hear well, that’s the only reason it hasn’t tried to eat you again.”

“Good to know? But let me help, Keith, you’re hurt too.”

“I’m still standing, am I not?”

“Your back is like shredded bud, it’s called adrenaline, ever heard of it?”

He opened his mouth as if to respond but didn’t get the chance to before he was launching himself over the swooping arc of the stinging tale that threatened to take his legs out from under him. His body stretched as he jumped and contracted almost as quickly to send himself tumbling forward, a stiff gasp escaping his lips when the stingers already at home in his back shifted and reduced him to a crouch while he rode the waves of agony that followed.

“That’s it...”

Pidge activated her bayard and sent it forward just as the tale of the oversized killer iguana was going back for seconds while Keith was still down, its struggle only aided the momentum of the grappling hook as it wrapped around the deadly appendage.

That bit was pretty seamless. What wasn’t seamless was when the creature started fighting her hold, a counter measure she hadn’t really planned for and wasn’t at all equipped to combat given she was very much reduced to sitting on her butt.

“Uh, Keith?” Pidge asked in a shriller voice than she intended as she dug one heel into the rocky soil beneath her.

“I know you’re like not doing great at the moment, but right about now would be a good time to, I don’t know, do the thing... that you do, ya know?”

The creature reared around as best it could with its tale entrapped and began yanking. Digging both heels into the ground was now all Pidge could do to keep from going flying. She couldn’t even hold back her screech when her torn muscles and slashed tendons protested that, the gash in her thigh squishing and swelling with another spurt of blood, whatever clotting that had been achieved entirely lost.

She almost cried out with relief she when heard Keith grunting and saw as he pulled himself up to his feet despite the burning twinge across the entire expanse of his back as well as his arms and shoulders, because Pidge was right, he did need to do the thing he does and end this.

“That’s a start, now I’m pretty sure what happens next is it gets more mad and seeing as i’m attached to my bayard still—“

But he didn’t need her to explain her predicament, he saw the danger immediately and lunged at the beast while it was still focused on attempting to wriggle free.

He knew aiming at its exposed underbelly was useless, the skin was too tough, but he also knew he couldn’t get close enough to go for a limb without risking getting sliced to ribbons by its claws. They had both found that one out the hard way.

So, with the beast temporarily distracted by Pidge he resolved to make a break for the underbelly anyway, the thing was huge but it’s limbs were short and set so far apart that if he could just slide under it and—

The next few moments happened in a blur. He did the thing without so much as a second thought, like he quite literally acted in whatever fashion his brain first thought of, too sluggish and dazed to afford waiting for something other than his instincts to come through.

The creature let out a horrible screech and bucked against Pidge’s grasp on its tale, she let out a strangled yelp as she was pulled forward and off the ground for a moment before landing back down hard. She heard Keith gagging as bright yellow acid oozed nearly onto his face from where his sword had pierced the only place he could think would be soft enough to bypass, clutching his nose at the acrid sizzling as it spluttered onto the dirt next to him.

“Pidge! On three retract your bayard, okay? One, two—“

“What? No, I can’t. It’ll—“

“Three!”

Keith picked his feet up as he hung on the sword stuck in what he assumed was the creatures gullet. It came away with even more acid blood as he dropped to his knees and tried to get out from under the stream, the top of his forearms being spared only by his armor as it disintegrated in a sickening hiss before his eyes. He managed to be vaguely concerned about wether it would stop at his armor before all of his worry went to avoiding being crushed to death as the beast took off.

Keith opened his eyes only when the thumping of the creatures claws began to notably shrink in the distance. He was curled up protectively on his side and too exhausted to move just yet.

“Huh, if only we had listened to Pidge earlier...” she mused teasingly as she pulled herself into a more comfortable sitting position.

“Shut up, are you alright? How’s the leg?”

“The leg is relatively the same, slightly more numb, started bleeding again, but still attached so that’s all that matters.”

She glanced back at the concerningly large puddle she’d left behind and the newly forming one underneath her. The blood loss wasn’t yet dangerous but she knew that could change rapidly if they didn’t get to Green soon. And for that she would need a functional Keith because she was fairly certain she couldn’t walk.

“Don’t think you can just deflect onto me, how’s your back you idiot?”

He thought deeply for a second, forcing himself to push past the impending haze as the steady stream of adrenaline coursing through his body began to taper off.

“Feels weird... the tingling and burning is starting to travel. Probably safe to say that the stingers have some sort of poison or irritant I guess... and it’s—oh my god it’s blood is—wait, crap!”

He wasn’t really mindful that he was rambling but grateful that it reminded him of the acid eating away at his armor and scrambled to detach what was left of it, scrubbing away what had just started making its way through his undersuit.

“It’s blood is WHAT?! Did it get on you?!”

“Yeah. Well no, I’m good,” he sighed and rolled around to sit up as painlessly as he could manage to.

“It ate my armor and I think my the hair on my forearm is gone, but my skin is in tact, well most of it. Sit tight though, I’m coming over there.”

“Kay, not going anywhere...”

Keith made his way slowly. His legs were leaden with excertion and whatever lovely substances the overgrown demon lizard stung and scratched him with seemed to only make it worse.

“Well you look awful.”

“Thanks, you too,” he said as he sat down heavily, his muscles screaming at the effort walking even a couple feet took and his head swimming for a moment.

“Rude, but turn around and let me see,” Pidge’s order was final but Keith’s body was slow, not really listening to what he wanted that well.

“Keith, I will slap you, stop trying to be a tough guy.”

He only managed to swivel sideways and lean the rest of the way to expose enough of his battered back to quell her chastisements.

“Hmm, the space-godzilla got you good,” she muttered as she pulled him closer to examine the bleeding gashes from the creatue’s claws and swollen welts from the barbs of its hellish tail.

Various bits of their armor had been knocked off by its claws and tail during the attack. For Keith, his chest plate had cracked after several blows and fallen off, which is why he was so bad off now.

There were three slashes starting from his left shoulder blade that made their way down to the middle of his back, all wide and jagged with blood leaking steadily from them, the skin around the wounds just as irritated as the welts from the stingers that trailed along in several lines up and down his back.

The skin around the gash on Pidge’s thigh fared the same though her symptoms had progressed more, the majority of her thigh swollen and blotchy with a tingling sensation that spread from her toes to her hips.

“Some of the stinger things are still lodged in your back... I think I should pull them out so ya know, no more of the toxin is released, that good with you?”

“Yeah whatever, just be qui—Oooh, okay—OH, ouch!”

Keith’s entire body tensed as she yanked the remaining stingers out, summoning another surge of blood from his scratch wounds.

“All done, sorry! I didn’t realize they were serated.”

“S’ okay,” he breathed through gritted teeth as blood began to trickle from the welts Pidge had just de-stingered.

“We’ve gotta get to our lions and contact the rest of the team before we start feeling the full affects of the toxin, do you think you can walk if I help you?” Keith asked as he was getting to his knees.

“My leg is pretty much entirely numb... I don’t know if it’s from the damage of the wound itself or what was coating the claw, but I can try.”

Keith got his feet under him and reached down to hook his arms under her armpits.

“Ready?”

Pidge nodded and he lifted her to her feet. She fought to stifle her groan when the skin around the wound was pulled and then tried to put her weight on it but it immediately buckled.

“Shit, okay. We can work something else out.”

“Sorry, I can probably hobble...”

“No hobbling when I have a spot just for you on my one remaining shoulder.”

“Huh? Wait, no!”

Pidge protested but Keith had no energy for it as he hoisted her up and over his good shoulder, her own mind not as hazy as his apparently because he now had a sense of humor. Keith never made jokes, but now he couldn’t stop. And it was freaking weird.

“Ugh, put me down!”

“Nope, sorry. Friendly reminder for passengers: please keep all hands and feet within the—“

“Oh my god, you’re delirious.”

“...maybe slightly, but you’re bleeding out so checkmate.”

Pidge wanted to slap him because that’s not how chess works, but grumbled instead and went to nudge him in the stomach with her knee but the movement jostled her thigh causing her keen at the way it burned, the torn everything that lay beneath pulling visciously.

She felt Keith’s hesitant hand hover over the back of her injured thigh before making his mind up and pressing it down against his stomach. She wailed because she couldn’t help it but was somehow able to rationalize his decision and be thankful.

Pressure, that was smart of him. Even in a state of literal delirium he had the presence of mind to do that because he was right, she was bleeding out. It hadn’t severed an artery but it likely nicked one with the way it had gushed initially.

“Th-thanks, hurts like a bitch, but thanks.”

“Anything for you, Pidge.”

She could almost laugh at how soft Keith was being, how open and lighthearted he was. The posion was admittedly closer to his heart and his brain which was probably why Pidge was more coherent though partially paralyzed.

Both injuries weren’t any better or worse than the other though. Pidge was very much in danger of losing too much blood and Keith was very much in danger of succumbing to adverse affects of the posion.

But she could hardly feel Green which meant they had a way to go still, it was less than ideal but of all people that would be able to get them there under such unfortunate circumstances, she was glad it was Keith with her. He was just as impossibly stubborn as she was and Pidge had no doubt that he’d do whatever he could to make it there in time.

“You know where you’re going right?”

“Yeah,” he huffed, already winded “crashed on the other side of this ridge... ha, course it’s up a hill, of course...”

“Stop as much as you need to if you need a break—“

“Nah, if I stop I don’t know if I’ll be able to start again.”

Pidge worried at her bottom lip, the skin already raw.

“Just let me know how you’re doing every now and then... since you’re so dead set on being my personal transport.”

He grunted at that and Pidge accepted it was as much of an answer as she was going to get. He walked for a while, the bounce of his gait and unrelenting pressure on her leg sufficiently shorting her dulled nerves for their tolerance for pain.

She could still feel the wound and how mangled the inside workings of her leg were, not even the numbing of the poison could take it away, but the tingling had traveled to her hip now and slowly made its way up her side. The feeling of Keith’s hand on the back of her thigh diminishing by the minute.

Pidge could only imagine how Keith was fairing with the numbness of the poison, she wondered if he could even feel her weight on his shoulder with how many pricks he’d received from the monster.

“Almost halfway up... this goddamned hill... can-can you feel Green yet?”

“Yeah, stronger than before at least. We’re getting closer. How do you feel?”

“Feel fine... i’m good,” he answered quickly, but his words were sloshing together somewhat, his pronunciation becoming lazier.

“Well, I can’t feel anything on my right side anymore except for my arm, so that’s lovely.”

“Hm, yeah... my back’s numb... scratches don’t hurt much anymore.”

“That’s probably for the best right now.”

“Yeah...”

The next few minutes passed slowly. Keith’s breathing getting heavier with the continued effort but no matter how much Pidge urged him he refused to even slow down for a minute let alone stop altogether to catch his breath.

So freaking stubborn, but she couldn’t blame him. She was the same way.

As they made their journey she found it more and more difficult to tear her mind away from worrying about the poison, what it could do to their bodies, if it was even curable. It could be lethal to humans and their efforts could very well be for nothing and they’d have no idea.

“Hey... you okay?” Keith asked, his voice gentle.

“Huh?”

“You’re breathing funny... wait, are you—don’t cry... we’re-we’re going to be fine, Pidge. Stop thinking about it...”

“I’m just scared,” her voice was meek, her chest shuddering as more tears slid silently down her face.

“I know... me too... but we’ll be okay... won’t let anything happen to you...”

“Okay...” she breathed shakily, her mind still working over her worries but also over the fact that she was so emotional, paranoid even, finally resolving it was probably another side affect of the poison.

She hoped that Keith didn’t get anxious like her, he’d gotten a stronger dose of the toxin and so she feared what paranoia would look like on him since he was already pretty delirious.

“Hey, Keith?”

He hummed, talking wasted too much energy and he didn’t much left to waste.

“I can feel Green a lot now, can almost hear what she’s trying to say. She’s stronger than when we left her, scared for me I think.”

“S’good... s’really good.”

They were nearing the top of the hill. Pidge could feel the elevation changing as the steep incline lessened and Keith straightened up with her, his breathing leveling and the muscles under her relaxing slightly, no longer straining to balance her while leaned forward.

“See her... see Green,” he spat with some effort. Words came a lot harder now, his mouth as dry as if it was full of cotton.

“She’s really worried... I can feel how scared she is...”

“Tell her... s’okay...”

“I will—hey slow down, we’re here, don’t waste more energy.”

“Can’ sl-slow...” he slurred like his tongue had stopped working. The dryness in his mouth extended down his throat and when he inhaled too sharply trying to articulate himself and choked, ragged coughs shaking his tiring frame.

“Oh, okay, don’t talk then. Just keep walking, you can rest soon.”

He only grunted this time, his breaths becoming as strained as they were when they were coming up the hill. He surged forward dazedly, his vision blurring slightly but he ignored it. They were so close, just a couple more yards and they’d be safe. Just a little further and—

“-eith, Keith! Do you hear that? Godzilla’s back and he brought friends!”

Keith hadn’t realized he’d zoned out in his intense concentration to get to Green before he succumbed to the numbness that seemed to cover every square inch of his body, weighing on his chest like a heavy cloud.

He heard it now though, the rumble of taloned appendages and the whipping of barbed tails.

Shit.

“How far are we from Green? Because our buddy from before and his friends are about a mile out, but they seem to be moving a tad faster than we are...?”

He didn’t answer, his legs moving faster than he knew he could manage with how nonexistent they felt, carrying them forward with reckless abandon as black dots danced across the quickly shrinking space between him and Green’s open jaws.

He couldn’t feel his feet hitting the ground, he didn’t even know he was running, he just felt the burn in his chest and the twinge on the skin of his back as he moved.

Pidge was saying something but he couldn’t hear her, he couldn’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the splitting ringing in his ears and pulse of his own heart as it pounded in his chest.

The alien beasts descended on them quickly, he was later told, and Pidge screamed her throat raw the entire time urging him to get them inside Green before they became dinner.

He wasn’t sure when he’d made it over the threshold of the lion or when he’d dropped to his knees to let Pidge down softly before falling forward in a heap.

“Damnit Keith, Green go! C’mon girl, I can’t fly-I can’t even move and Keith needs help...”

Once the pain in her leg died down from him abruptly releasing the pressure that was keeping the wound stabilized, she turned to her struggling friend, pushing away the fear that spiked as her own numbness encroached further.

He’d collapsed onto his front bonelessly and was wheezing like he’d just run a marathon with a punctured lung. It didn’t sound good and he didn’t look much better. The wounds on his back were angry, the skin puffy with hives and bleeding still.

If she didn’t know better she’d have thought he was having an allergic reaction and going into anaphylactic shock, but her wound looked the same.

“Keith?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look like he’d heard her.

Pidge grunted in frustration when she couldn’t get her legs to bring her much closer to him, relying on her arms to physically move them as she awkwardly scooted.

She vaguely wondered how long it would be until she couldn’t sit up on her own as she lowered herself down to eye level and moved the damp locks that had fallen in front of his face away so she could see his eyes. They were bloodshot and unfocused as they darted about rapidly, his pupils blown entirely.

“I need you to breathe steadier for me okay? We’re in Green and we’re on our way back to the castle... you just need to hold on a little longer...”

Keith could see Pidge’s mouth moving and her hand on his head, but her words were lost on him and so was her touch. It felt like she was shouting across a void, like he was underwater and everything was garbled. He didn’t know why he couldn’t hear her, why he couldn’t feel anything.

He just knew he couldn’t breathe and that his head was going to explode.

“Catch your breath and calm down, we’re gonna be okay...”

Taking in air was a chore, like he was trying to fill up a balloon that had already popped. He couldn’t really feel his body beneath him as he struggled, he thought he could feel his throat closing though with how tight it grew.

“We’re gonna be fine... just keep breathing, Keith... even if it hurts... we’ll be okay...”

Pidge was saying these things mostly for herself now, Keith hadn’t answered her once since they’d made it to Green and she couldn’t even be sure he was conscious now. The numbness had spread to her middle, the muscles in her back and hips failing, reducing her to laying on her back.

For a while it had felt like it had stopped there until she tried to check on Keith and found her neck was immobile now too.

“No, no, no—fuck!”

That was when she’d started crying again. She was paralyzed. Her muscles were entirely lax, completely unresponsive to anything she tried to tell them to do. But her ears were unaffected. She would be able to hear when Keith stopped breathing next to her.

The poison had likely attacked his pulmonary system with the proximity of the wounds to his lungs, the claws maybe even knicked one. For Pidge it attacked her nervous system from the extensive damage to about a dozen crucial nerves in her leg.

She tried to curse pitifully again but the muscles in her face were tingling, managing nothing more than a nose wrinkle before she lost all control. The tears fell freely now. All she hoped for was a crackle over the coms from her friends when they got close enough to the castle to receive one.

Keith continued to wheeze, soon falling into an almost dream state as he struggled against the increasing paralysis in his mouth and throat, the decreased oxygen to his brain likely playing a hand in it.

He saw his home in the dessert except his father was there. He saw flashes of red and orange like fire and sand. They swirled around him threateningly, like they were taunting them. His father looked like he was saying something to him, but the sand whirred deafeningly.

“What?!” he thought he heard himself calling out through the wall of flames that seperated them. The blaze was tantalizingly close and gaining ground each second.

“Dad, what are you saying?”

The fire raged stronger now, the heat and lack of oxygen in the air around them as the flames licked it up bringing his father to his knees.

“No, no—Dad!”

Keith started toward the flames that were now receding, drawing toward his father who was still trying to tell him something.

But it was too late.

The flames circled him, closing in and swallowing him up.

Keith felt like he was the one burning as he saw his father taken away from him once more before darkness enveloped him.

“Dad...” he whispered in defeat.

The static that sounded from the coms device brought another surge of tears down Pidge’s face once Keith had stopped calling out and finally relaxed, his breaths choppy and sporadic but less erratic.

He was calling for his father, it was the first intelligent word she’d gathered from him once he’d started up. He sounded like he was crying too.

“-dge...-th...in...-idge-Keith...come in...guys? Please report.”

It was Shiro. He sounded scared.

“Pidge? Keith? Please tell us you’re okay...”

Hunk. Gosh, hearing him so worried hurt.

“Green has the other lions flipping their shit,”Lance remarked, trying to infuse some levity into his voice.

“Red is like actually wailing—wait, Coran sees you guys on the radar...”

She wanted to sob so badly, but her body refused. They were so close to being safe, to not feeling so wrong. She wanted to tell Keith it was going to be okay, that his father was gone but that he would be proud of him. That it’d be okay because he had his friends. And that she needed a hug as soon as he could breathe and as soon as she could stand.

But she just let her eyes flutter closed while Green landed them with a shudder that she didn’t feel. Everyone was on them in a second, worried voices pulling her from the darkness as equally worried faces hovered over her, poking at her leg.

“Pidge?! Pidge can you hear me?” Shiro was waving his hand in front of her but her face was entirely numb, her eyelids heavy and uncooperative but still functioning for now.

“That’s a lot of blood and—oh my god is that bone, aw god...” Hunk deadpanned before excusing himself to go hurl.

“What the heck? Her eyes are open and responsive but she’s not talking,” Lance noted as his mind worked over the strange scene.

Keith was still out of it, mumbling incoherently and breathing hoarsely. Coran was examining his back and figuring out a way to transport him without angering the wounds.

“I think I have an idea of what happened...” he offered once he’d inspected the swollen dots from the barbs and relayed his hypothesis to the rest of the team.

“Oh my god, so she’s like... paralyzed?” Lance questioned in horror.

Hot tears spilled down her face once more at their realization, Hunk appearing next to them and Allura coming into view as well.

“Pidge?” she asked softly, “er, blink twice if you can hear me?”

Blinking was difficult but possible, snapping her eyes back quickly each time just in case.

“Oh, Pidge...” she gushed sadly, taking her face in the palm of her hand.

“That must’ve been hell—I-I’m so sorry,” Hunk choked as he fought back a sob.

“We should’ve gone with you guys, I should’ve gone with you guys...” Lance griped defeatedly.

“No, I never should’ve sent you... it was too dangerous—“

“Er, Shiro? Could I get some assistance with Keith? Holding him like this seems to aggravate his breathing...” Coran interrupted as he sat with Keith against his chest after trying to carry him over his shoulder like he’d done with Pidge.

“Of course.”

“Rest now, Pidge. You’ve done more than enough,” Allura soothed, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

That was all the command she needed as she let the heaviness close her eyes for good. She felt herself become weightless before the tingling subsided into a pleasant nothingness.

The next thing she knew she was tumbling forward into warm arms, a familiar voice sounding not nearly as wrecked as it once had. She blinked back the haze from cryosleep only to realize that she just couldn’t see.

“These might help.”

She blinked with clarity once someone had put her glasses on for her, making her feel less disoriented now that she could actually see.

Keith stared down at her warmly.

“Hey there.”

“UGH!” she grumbled as she scrambled up and threw her arms around him, squeezing like she wanted to shatter his bones.

It wasn’t long before she was fighting the hysteria in her voice.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again! It was horrible! You-you were getting worse and I couldn’t m-move, I th-thought I’d have to hear... hear you...”

“Hey,” he said as softly as he spoke to her on that stupid planet, rubbing her back in an effort to quell the stuttering of her chest.

“I didn’t. We’re okay, just like you said we’d be...”

“O-okay,” she managed through sobs now that she could actually cry.

They stayed like that for a while which was surprising when she thought about it but she didn’t care to consider it in depth, that he was letting her hug him so long, that he was comforting her.

“How long were we out?” she asked after some time. It was probably night judging by the dim lights and lack of swarming that occurred. Keith was stubborn so she could imagine him refusing to let her wake up without greeting her first or some noble shit like that.

“Well I was out for like a day, not much to fix I guess. The slashes weren’t deep, not heavy duty work or anything. The poison paralyzing my throat however... was a slight issue. The pod stopped it before I like stopped breathing or whatever, but Coran said he had a plan for if that happened.”

Keith readjusted so that he held most of her weight more comfortably as she calmed down.

“You on the other hand, were in for three days, almost four.”

Pidge sat back from her home against his chest and underneath his arms to look at him with an amusingly bewildered face, needing to know every detail now temporarily overriding her sadness.

“Three days?! Why?”

“Well you did almost bleed out... and then there were the several muscles sliced clean in half as well as a few snapped tendons from said severed muscles... oh and the full body paralysis from a toxin that had to be flushed out... so yeah, took a hot second. And you’re not allowed to say I scared you because you scared me pretty well too.”

“Oh... sorry for scaring you.”

He pulled her back into his arms and she closed her eyes against the steady rise and fall of his chest, a much welcomed change.

“Your... your dad would be proud of you, ya know?”

She felt Keith stiffen against her for a moment at the mention of her father.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s just—you were calling out for him... and I couldn’t comfort you, tell you that it’d be okay or that... well he’s not here, but we are...”

Pidge took a shaky breath ans Keith tightened his arms around her, his body no longer tense as she struggled to articulate her words through the hitches in her breath.

“It just hurt hearing you call for him like that and not be able to do anything... made me want my dad... I-I miss him too...”

She thought she heard his breathing pick up, felt him moving his hands to his face as he continued to rub her back. She didn’t care, just hugged tighter.

“Thanks... for that,” he said finally.

“Thanks for not dying before you saved us.”

“Ha, checkmate I guess.”

She laughed because that’s just once again not how that works and nestled herself somehow further against the warmth of Keith’s chest because... they were okay.

#keith whump #pidge whump #keith kogane #pidge gunderson #vld #voltron whump #voltron fic #voltron fanfic #whump prompt #whumpy #keith angst #voltron pidge #keith x pidge #vld pidge #voltron keith #pidge angst #voltron angst #poison #emotional whump

[greyskywrites]

Wolf’s Price

[First] [Previous] [AO3] [ko-fi]

XXIII. Long Live the Wolves

2.6k

I will tell it to you as it was told to me.

That, on a warm summer evening, Crown Prince Andon of Kressos was host to a feast and a ball in the Grand Palace. It was a magnificent affair, by all accounts. Garlands of summer flowers strung from wall to wall, filling the ballroom with their scent. Wine flowing freely, near everyone who was of any importance in Kressos present and attending. Naturally, no Sarenn lords or ladies had been invited.

In the few months since she had arrived, no one had paid much attention to the quiet cook who had so quickly ingratiated herself with the kitchen staff. If they noticed that she stained her hair a darker hue, that she was always careful to be absent when some attendant close to the prince arrived, no one thought to be suspicious. Many women wish their hair were a different color. Many women are wise enough to avoid powerful men.

It was quite unexpected, when the head cook suddenly took ill before the ball. It might have promised disaster, except for the new cook, who took command of the kitchens with such ease, directing the roasting of many kinds of fowl, of the enormous river fish of which Kressosi are so fond. Of venison and pork and veal. They said to themselves, how lucky we are, to have her here. Perhaps someday she will be head cook, herself.

And always, most importantly, was the wine. Great barrels of it, I was told, big enough to drown a man in. These, the new cook tended to most especially, because by custom the prince would begin the festivities with a toast, and everyone would drink together.

No one thought it strange that this new cook worked late into the night, often by herself. It was an important event they were preparing for, and she was determined it be perfect—but she was kind enough to insist they all be rested, so that nothing go wrong because of their weariness. So no one was awake to think it strange, when the new cook whispered secret words to the herbs she boiled over the fire, or to think it strange how carefully she let the mixture cool before she poured it into the barrels of wine. Perhaps, upon waking, they did not notice the particular green smell that had filled the kitchens, because she had already begun to prepare for the making of breakfast, and melting fat will cover a great deal.

The noble lords and ladies of Kressos all began to arrive early that night, each determined to outdo each other in the show of their clothes, of their carriages and horses. Such noble houses of Kressos, Stefjan and Kellar, Gerr and Hoss, and so on.

Prince Andon and Princess Arabel were most gracious hosts, each finely outfitted in Luon silk and Sarenn fur, the white manes of snow lions, and a comb of Sarenn ivory in Arabel’s dark hair.

Delicate glasses were filled with dark wine, and given among the lords and ladies, who simply held onto them until the prince could give his toast, as was custom. They whispered of rumors of what had occurred in the north, of Commander Emiran’s disappearance, as well as the vanishing of the prince’s personal physician. No one dared speak aloud what they truly thought, that His Highness the Prince must have decided that Emiran’s popularity was too great a threat to his own. There was a great deal of whispering among those who had brothers and sons who were military men, about whether it would be more prudent to call them home.

The prince gave his toast, in which he spoke of Kressos’ success, and, most alarmingly, brought up the missing commander. He promised that Muras Emiran and his companions would be found soon enough, he would make sure of it.

No one in the kitchen had yet noticed that the new cook was missing.

They toasted, and drank, and at first it seemed that all was well. There was a great deal of eating and merriment, trying to put the thought of the missing commander out of their minds. Andon, especially, drank quite heavily.

It was Lord Stefjan, who fell first. So every version of this part of the story tells me, without doubt. Stefjan who keeled back out of his chair, and fell dead to the floor. Then, all at once, it began. One after the other, everyone who had partaken of the wine began to fall, some choking and unable to breathe, some vomiting.

In the most dramatic of the stories, it is Arabel and Andon who fall last, the prince cradling the body of his dying wife, but that all seems quite tawdry to me, and the person I trust most to recount it to me was not there to witness it. A hall full of corpses, and a few in the kitchen, after unwise servants had stolen a swallow of wine. It took some time for the panic to abate, for those people left alive in the palace to think to look at who had been in the kitchens, and discover the new cook missing.

She was searched for, and in the searching, so too was found the body of King Isaec, who had not been poisoned. In his weakness and old age, his throat had been cut. Written on the wall, and this I do know to be true, though I still find it in poor taste, were letters in the dead king’s blood. The same phrases, written twice. Once, in Kressosi, that everyone who saw them might be able to read them. Again, in Sarenn, so that it would be clear.

The king is dead.

Long live the wolves of Saren.

#

Lor had long since fled, when the search for her began. There was a boat waiting for her at the river, a small one, manned only by someone who had long since given up river travel. He did not know exactly what she had been about—stories of the deaths in the Grand Palace would not reach him until days later, after Lor had already left his company. He had agreed to meet her for exactly one reason: because she had promised to bring him news of me.

She told me that Kaspar was in good health, that he was relieved to hear that I was alive and safe, and that he grew quite somber when she told him that it would not be possible for me to return to Kressos. Of Kip, she learned that he was also well, that he was beginning to learn his letters. She said Kaspar was wistful, when he spoke of our son.

He carried her as far as a more distant port, where Lor could safely depart for Saren. She clasped his wrist in her hand before she left him, and met his gaze. “There is more you ought to know,” she said, “about the woman who gave you your son.”

She said he did not believe it, when she told him my name. The name that I was born with, that I had picked up again. He thought it absurd.

“Believe it or not, as you like,” she said, “but it will become known, soon, and you will need to protect your son.” That was how she left him, slipping away into the weak morning light, to secret herself away on a river ship bound for Saren, before it could be known how many had died that night.

#

I met several lords, in the months while I waited for word of Lor. We heard quickly what had happened in Kressos, and even among those lords who had not yet seen me with their own eyes, confirmed for themselves that I was who I said I was, there began to be whisperings. Now, they said, now was our time. While Kressos was in chaos. While Kressos had no king, while Kressos was still trying to reassemble its noble houses.

I heard of riots along the river ports, though none occurred in Arborhall. We simply closed our ports to Kressosi ships, and waited. Those Kressosi that lived in and around Arborhall prudently retreated to their estates, or, if they had none, came to seek refuge from Julas. Julas imposed upon those Kressosi who did have country households to take those that did not, and I waited. I prayed.

The rumors of me spread nearly as quickly as the story of Andon’s death. Liana Anarin still lives. Liana Anarin has come home. The lost princess, the last of Corasin’s wives.

I spent those months sewing a banner. I had sewn them before, when I was yet unmarried. I could have sewn the black hounds of Anar by memory alone. But this banner, as it took shape under my hands, was different. Between the black hounds, I placed a white wolf. The field of red, bloody and bright, brought the wolf into sharp relief.

This was not a banner for my family, not a banner for my brothers and their children. This banner was mine, and for my descendants. We were Anarin, but we were different, too. My children would be Anarin not because of their fathers, but because of their mother.

“I would like you to fly this under the Anarin banner,” I told Julas. “As long as I am here.”

I went to my father’s burial mound many times. The dawnstars grew thickly there, for we had buried many of our ancestors in this place. I talked to him, told him of my doubts and my fears, of my daughter’s growing and Veland’s progress in learning Sarenn and Kressosi. That I hoped, still, that Lor would return to teach him Aziran. That I was sorry I had not gotten to see him before he died. Asking him to keep a place open for me in the halls of the dead, when I joined him to feast with our forebears until the end of humankind.

I heard some tale of the young son of Prince Andon being made king, which might have made me laugh if I had not been so sad at the thought. He was no older than Veland. Some cousin or other relative would manipulate him until he became too troublesome, and then that boy would suddenly take ill. His sisters, I supposed, would be safer, at least for a time. They would be raised until they were old enough to marry whoever was most able to claim the throne of Kressos. Whichever one of them proved a more agreeable option for queen. Whichever one of them was sly enough to survive.

There was never any official declaration of war from Saren. There was no one to give it. There was only a definite turning of the tides, one that must have seemed to come from nowhere to the Kressosi on the far side of the river. The ones on the Sarenn side, I suspected, were less surprised. I thought of the Sarenn women with Kressosi soldiers for husbands, and knew that I was just another in a long line of forces that had harmed them.

I thought particularly of Branhild, the dyer’s niece in Nolsaford. I hoped that she and her child were safe. She had already survived so much upheaval.

And still, I heard no word from Lor.

It would not be until nearly autumn that a woman came to Arborhall on foot, the stain long since washed out of her hair, a basket on one arm. I would have known who she was anywhere. I was, by then, quite well attended by guards, but I ran out reckless to meet her, and threw my arms around her.

Lor wrapped her free arm around me, and let out a great breath, pressing her face into my hair. “Ah,” she whispered, “I missed the sight of your face.” She pulled back, and stroked my hair. “Your daughter,” she said, “what’s her name?”

I had almost forgotten, that was the last thing she said to me. That she would be back to learn my baby’s name. “Roanna,” I said. “Her name is Roanna.” I had named her under the oak trees, and I had managed to do it without weeping.

Lor nodded. “It’s a beautiful name. She’ll do her namesake proud, I’m sure.”

“It took you so long to come back,” I murmured.

“Traveling on the river got quite a bit more difficult, recently,” Lor said. “I had to come all this way on my own two feet, and feed myself along the way. It’s a good thing there’s always a need for a good physician.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Especially in war.” I held her by the arms, gazing up into her face. “You have to tell me everything,” I said.

“I will,” she said, touching her forehead to mine. “But first, I think we should eat. And I have brought you some delicious squash and rabbit.”

“It sounds wonderful,” I said. “Veland will be so excited to see you.” I looped my arm through hers, and we made our way back to the castle.

“The banner,” Lor said, pointing up at my white wolf and black hounds. “Your work?”

“Yes.”

“It’s good. The birth of a new house, I think. I’ve never seen a Tyna banner.  I suspect they were all burned, or any that survived went far away with all the cousins I’ve never met.” Their crest had been a maple tree. “But that one,” she went on, “I would be proud to fly it.”

#

In Saren, there is a saying. As we were made, so we make what comes after. Which is to say, that we are each of us shaped by what has come before us, and so we are making now what will come after us, that which our children will inherit.

I am what I am because I was born in Saren, because when the king decided he wished to have me, my father could not refuse him. I called on the Wolf because I had decided that death was a price worth paying for freedom. Because I had thought a long, long time on Anar’s hounds, who ripped him to shreds for his negligence. I am what I am because when I was given the chance to live, I took it.

When were the threads of my life interwoven with Muras’, with Lor’s? Was it when the war began, or earlier? Perhaps when Corasin decided he wanted another wife. Perhaps when Muras decided he would rather be a soldier than his father’s heir. Perhaps it was long before any of us were born, when the people on each side of the river took the names of Saren and Kressos, and decided that we were enemies.

A thousand threads I cannot see, spun together by Mother Spider who made the world. What tapestry it will make at the end, only she knows. But I have my role to play in it, however reluctantly I have picked it up. I am the woman who should have died a dozen times over, and have not. I am the woman who was chosen by the Winter Wolf, to speak with his voice, to wear that skin.

Weta gave me a horn, perhaps the oldest symbol of war to the Sarenn people. Women do not wield horns, but I have one. Mine is the breath meant to sound the call. I cannot make men go to war, I cannot stop them once they have.

I am not the hero my country would have wished for, and I doubt I ever shall be. I am, I think, happier that way.

Heroes, after all, seldom have happy ends in our stories.

I still have hope that mine might be different.

#original fiction #prose #wolf's price

[humm-plays-fe]

Some concluding thoughts about NG VW on Maddening, Pt. 2: Battle time

From my previous post, I had a rough plan in place for duoing the game with Byleth and Claude, despite having not beat maddening before even with NG+, let alone without it. I’ll split up how battles went and the strategies I employed into 5 categories: early game, midgame, endgame, paralogues, and troublesome. Chapter breakdowns below the break.

Final Thoughts:

I honestly don’t know if I think this was overall easier or harder than training a standard team. On one hand, it was refreshing to only have to worry mainly about 2 units and once the avoid ball got rolling they were almost invincible. The months between story battles went by quickly because I only needed to focus on training one unit; the others I just left on their default goals. I was able to use most of my points on training Byleth to get onto a pegasus ASAP or cook stat-boosting dishes to help with the early chapters instead of having a bunch of meals.

The problem with this is that that ball doesn’t really pick up speed until chapters 15/16 and the chapters immediately preceding these were some of the roughest in the game to the point that I wasn’t even sure I would be able to beat them. I only got through ch. 6 because I had happened to have recruited Shamir and Cathrine. Sure all the exp got funneled into two units but because it falls off fast once you hit a certain level threshold above the enemy I do feel like that wasted exp could have trained up a third or fourth unit easily.

All that being said even with all the stat boosters I poured into both Claude and Byleth (by the end they both had reasonable def and Byleth had decent res) if they had actually ever gotten hit they still would have died very easily. With the enemy density and maddening’s tendency to have the enemy AI start mobbing and along with the annoying enemy skill sets (swordmasters have QR, wtf) I don’t know that I actually could have found it within myself to keep an entire roster going. So, despite certain hair-pulling scenarios, I almost feel like I cheesed NG maddening. But I did beat it, and I got the title screen, and that’s all that matters to me. And yes, I S-supported Claude at the end.

Feel free to ask me any questions about the run I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about this stuff.

TL;DR for Chapter Breakdowns:

Early Game: a bit of a challenge but fair

Midgame: build is coming together but most of the Troublesome chapters are here and they feel pretty bs when you try and lowman them. Get past those and you’re fine.

Endgame: Easy peasy. AS+ ftw.

Early Game (Prologue + Ch. 1-4)

You would think that the first few chapters would be the most difficult. In a way that’s kinda right. I’m pretty sure these chapters took the most turns out of most of the rest of the story maps.

Prologue wasn’t too difficult, stole Dimitri and Edelgard’s weapons and then used them as meat shields.

Ch. 1: Three Houses - I used whatever I could get here. While I tried to get kills with only Claude or Byleth I definitely used the other students to chip as much as possible or even get a kill or two just to get through the map. I distributed the DLC statboosters before this and Byleth got the movement shoes, which was exceedingly helpful for the entire game.

Ch. 2: Familiar Scenery - this is where the real game starts. The hardest bit of this map is getting through the initial waves of enemies. I brought Lysithea and Marianne for heals and some magic chip if neccessary. Even with healing spells, well, Marianne only has 5 casts atm, so this is where the vulnerary chugging starts. Took a while but not too bad.

Ch. 3: Mutiny in the Mist - I uh, didn’t exactly bother buying torches for this map. Still brought Lysithia (who had heal now) and Marianne (who got physic). I had already accepted the probably inevitability of Cathrine’s squaddies getting bonked (and one did on like turn 2) but after following them across the bottom of the map and then up toward Lonato somehow the other one survived and I got the rewards.

Ch. 4: The Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth - Honestly pretty simple. While this map does have a 25 turn limit the enemies don’t swarm you so I just made my way up the left side with healers in tow and killed the boss. Easy enough. At this point Claude was an archer and thus had better range, but not quite enough speed for Alert Stance to do a whole lot yet.

Midgame (Ch. 6-8, 10, 11)

About the time Alert Stance and Alert Stance+ start to become viable tactics and I don’t need to bring Marianne and Lysithea along to every map. You might notice some skipped chapters. Those get listed as troublesome. At some pont in these I ended up with a Prayer Ring and a Goddess Ring. Both Byleth and Claude had one equipped at basically all times.

Ch. 6: Rumors of a Reaper - I’d list this as troublesome but my failure the first time playing the map was mostly due to me being dumb. I’d forgotten you don’t get your lord this chapter and you have a 25 turn limit to either kill every enemy except the Death Knight (DK) or kill DK. Lemme just say that it is not possible to do either of those things with just Byleth (who was a pegasus knight by this point), at least the way I had played it wasn’t. Lucky me I had both Shamir and Cathrine in my army and because this was the earliest you could get them their stats were enough to take the right side of the map with Lysithea along for heals while Byleth took the right with Marianne for heals. Shamir was well-deserved MVP of this map mostly for sniper range and crits. Took 24 turns to clear.

Ch. 7: Field of the Eagle and Lion - ...I kinda just hung out on the upper edges of enemy ranges on the map and let the other two go at each other? Then once the density decreased a little moving in to start enemy phasing. I’m fairly convinced that as long as you’re the last house standing you win regardless since it definitely didn’t feel like I beat more enemies than the other two. Didn’t really care since I didn’t expect to be using the Blessed Lance that much.

Ch. 8: The Flame in the Darkness - Easy enough. Byleth flew down the right side and Claude took left. Saved all the villagers. Solon actually moves toward DK here so I kinda rushed the end. Ended up with dismounted Byleth in a bush next to Solon waiting and spamming healing while Claude came to bail her out bc she couldn’t one-round Solon.

Ch. 10: Where the Goddess Dwells - More wait spam. Just took a lot of turns thanks to the beasts.

Ch. 11: Throne of Knowledge - Hunter’s Volley’d the Flame Emperor on turn 3 to keep the crest stones safe. The rewards are not worth it, should have killed more stuff for exp.

Endgame (Ch. 15-22)

Yes I skipped a bunch of chapters. Yes there’s a reason for that. At this point builds and class goals are fully achieved and I can basically spam the “Wait” command to win the game. Even with forged training lances and bows. As I got to around this point I stopped exploring as much outside of monthly tea and focused on the extra auxiliary battles for exp and the stat boosters. I’m not gonna chapter-by-chapter break these down because the strat was basically set. Move, wait, repeat until near boss, kill boss. The only exception to this being Grondor 2, where I yet again just let the enemy destroy each other before cleaning up what was left.

Paralogues

These fall into 2 categories: A: Kill boss/perform goal ASAP, or B: slowly kill the entire map while the required but definitely underleveled and useless required units follow you around trying not to die. The approach depends on how easy it is to protect said units. I didn’t complete every paralogue I had access too as I deemed the rewards either not worth the hassle or the map to be basically impossible with my setup.

Rumored Nuptials (Dorothea/Ingrid): Approach B. Byleth was able to zoom over to reinforcement man pretty quickly and then it was a slow slog through the map the scoop up the exp. 66 turns, probably the longest I spent on any map. Got Luin out of it which Byleth could use if I needed some extra oomph.

Land of the Golden Deer (Lorenz): Approach A. Stride + peg knight = turn 1 dead boss. Lysithia get Thrysus and as a result saves my butt later.

Oil and Water (Hanneman & Manuela): Approach B, but with a side of frantic for the first few turns as I raced to take out the enemies nearest Manuela, particularly the peg knights. Not sure the batallions you get are worth doing it but I got exp.

The Forgotten (Sylvain): Approach B after sniping out the speedwing thief. Didn’t care too much about the rest of them. Lance of Ruin goes to Byleth for when nothing else will get the job done.

Tales of the Red Canyon (Sothis): Approach B, except this was mostly Byleth flying around out of the birds’ ranges leaving Claude to basically avo tank solo the entire thing. More Divine Pulse (defo needed) and the knowledge gem which goes to Byleth to have equipped when she doesn’t need the Goddess Ring.

An Ocean View (Seteth and Flayn): Approach B except both Seteth and Flayn are capable of helping out. Seteth has enough stats to not die and Flayn can heal. Spear of Assal gets added to the ever-increasing list of badass weapons Byleth can just whip out of the convoy when needed.

Death Toll (Ignatz and Raphael): Approach A. Takes a few turns to get to get to the boss and a few merchants bit the dust buuut I couldn’t bring myself to care that much.

Sword and Shield of Seiros (Alois and Shamir): Approach A. Hide everyone else in the middle of town and just let Byleth fly over to the boss. Stride helps. Also Lysithia picking off an enemy or two that got too close.

Troublesome (Ch. 5, 9, 12-14)

Welcome to the worst story chapters (imo) to get through while low-manning the game. Divine pulse, divine pulse, divine pulse, restart, divine pulse. Difficult and/or exceedingly annoying either because of additional defeat conditions, green units, or just straight-up enemy mobbing. If you plan on trying to low-man the game keep these chapters in mind because several don’t care how buff your own units are, they will find ways around it.

Ch. 5: Tower of Black Winds - ok this one technically wasn’t so bad I just felt like the strat I ended up using was so dumb it belongs here. Just hang back a little at the start to take care of the reinforcements and you can creep your way forward and snag the treasure chest. About halfway up the right side past the chest and after baiting some of the upper level archers with Claude I noticed that every enemy with a vulnerary decides to charge you. It was here that I gave up on Gilbert and retreated to the only defendable location on the map where I could turtle it out: the chest alcove. Claude took the brunt by Alert Stance avo tanking while dismounted Byleth plinked away with a bow from behind. Problem is I had also brought Marianne and Lysithia, and in order to keep them from getting sniped by archers I had to move them back and forth every other turn or so to get the archers to move either further down the wall to try and get to a position to shoot over it or back toward the slowly decreasing vulnerary mob. It just felt really dumb, ok? Beast Miklan was a piece of cake since he can’t go down the stairs. Claude just out-ranged him.

Ch. 9: The Cause of Sorrow - This chapter wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t felt like I’d gotten screwed over by Jeralt’s AI and RNG. I knew I wasn’t saving all the student but you lose if Jeralt dies (oh the irony) and he kept rushing straight for the other side of the map and getting mobbed by three at once. I basically ended up almost breaking the Blessed Lance this chapter (and I had thought I’d never use the thing, how wrong I was) just to be able to quickly break armor in order for Claude or Lysithia to melt health bars using either Hunter’s Volley or Seraphim (sometimes I’d use Seraphim to armor break and Byleth to melt health). Marianne with Physic kept Jeralt going despite his best efforts.

Ch. 12: To War - Also technically not the worst but even with Claude reaching Edelgard in about 5 turns it was nerve-wracking and frustrating trying to keep the enemy away from the defend tiles. Lysithia, Marianne, and Seteth get to join in to assist in this but they also add the extra layer of making sure they’re out of enemy range come enemy phase. DK’s advance does not help this.

Ch. 13: Reunion at Dawn - screw this chapter pt 1. :) On maddening this map is absolutely filled with snipers and gambit spam. So much so that even dismounting both Claude and Byleth is bushes next to each other didn’t keep them alive. On top of that even if that did work this condemns the rest of the students to death and I wanted to at least keep Lysithia alive. Thankfully, she spawns with the group in the safest corner. I ended up moving my duo north, dealing with the small group of enemies there then moving east across the top of the map. I’d gotten Leonie on a pegasus so she was able to fly up and join the safe corner and follow them along with Lorenz and Ignatz. I don’t think there was any way I was getting Hilda out of that so she got taken out. After joining up with Lysithia’s group I was able to fly over the wall with Claude, take out Pallardo 1, use stride on Byleth and fly to the south side of the map to take out Pallardo 2 on the same turn.

Ch. 14: The Alliance Leader’s Ambitions - screw this chapter pt 2. :)) Ah yes, a defend map with 4 tiles to defend and I have 2.5 trained units. No one really threatens the far right tile after turn 1 so more like 3 tiles but you get the point. If this map were defeat commander the entire time this wouldn’t be a problem, since with the powers of stride and warp I could (and did the first time just to try it) get Claude to the bottom of the map and defeat Randolph on turn 1. When that didn’t work, I took out Marianne and Lysithia and just tried to have Claude aggro as many enemies as possible as far away from the defend point as possible but there was always one paladin or so who slipped past, or the falcon knight reinforcements would just breeze past him. It was also still entirely possible for Claude to get hit at this point despite AS+ and die. I eventually decided I would have to find a way to last long enough to escort the greenie down to the fire trap and trigger the enemy retreat. Byleth was perfectly capable of doing this without issue, the problem was defending the 3 tiles for long enough to get him there. I ended up deploying Lysithia again and thanks the Thrysus, Dark Spikes, and Ashes and Dust I was able to finally defend the tiles long enough to trigger the fire trap and easily beat the map from there. If you can get past this chapter you’re probably fine for the rest of the game.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe three houses #claude von riegan #byleth eisner #humm plays fe3h

[mimiplaysgames]

A Rush of Blood to the Head (4/6)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 7,895

Summary: Faced with what he has to do, Terra learns that darkness doesn’t matter when it comes to saving the one he loves.

A/N: It’s been a long, long time. I haven’t been well, but I’ve been slowly recovering. I’ve poured a lot of my sadness into this one, and it’s been so relieving to finally finish it and put it out there. Here comes saving Aquanort. Next will be two chapters worth of reconciliation and introspection, and I honestly can’t wait to get to them.

This Dream I’ve Freed

Terra couldn’t find Ventus, and if he did, he’d kill him.

The back entrance of the academy was a large, open room. Long windows situated high on the walls above him embraced the room with so much sun, there wasn’t a shadow to be found except his own. Rough, sky-blue ceramic tiles led the way to tall garden gates. They were gold and elaborate in design that featured vines twisted from the center outward. And they were open. Ventus must have headed for the Master’s beloved gardens, which boasted the most colorful flowers in the Land of Departure.

This back room had a number of large sinks mounted on the walls, normally spent washing off dirt and mud. It was often the case the three students explored the trails out in the fields beyond, and they’d be damned if the Master allowed them to dirty the pristine hallway floors within the castle. Terra approached one, and finally looked at himself in the mirror.

He had already noticed most of the scrawls and doodles that were on his arms. Some of them were cartoonish monsters, inked in black marker. Others were teases and mean words. “Loser” in particular was huge, scribbled across the entirety of his forearm. A doodle of what appeared to be Ventus wielding a large sword was on the other.

Worst of all was a three-worded sentence, written underneath his right tricep: “Terra loves Aqua.” Complete with a large heart bordering them. His most guarded secret on display.

But the mirror showed him one more – a thin, curly mustache traced above his lips.

“What happened to you?” he heard Aqua say, followed by a giggle. No doubt she saw the mustache as she flashed a half-cocked smile, suppressing a laugh. “You should grow out facial hair. It’d look good on you.”

His first instinct was to keep his tricep close to him, so that she wouldn’t see the incriminating evidence.

“I was sparring with Ven.” He turned the sink on, and began to wash his forearms - though it was more important that he kept calm and collected so she wouldn’t suspect anything. “Him and his ridiculous spells.”

“Of course, it’s Ven we’re talking about.” She leaned on the edge of the sink, her free hand rested on her hip. “He used Sleep on the Master once, just so that he could procrastinate on an essay.”

“Tell me the Master still didn’t find out about that.”

“He never did,” she said uncomfortably, as if she was guilty for even knowing about it. “But you’re avoiding my question.”

“Ven cast Stop on me,” he said, eyeing the doodles, “and did all this while I was frozen.”

Aqua lifted her hand to her mouth to disguise her snort, but there was no way she was able to hide how funny she thought it was. Perhaps putting up with the doodles was worth it, just to see her this way: eyes squinting and watering, cheeks puffed, smile wide. Beautiful.

Not that he could ever tell her he’d be willing to go that far to make her laugh. “Wait until he does it to you, and see how you’ll feel.”

She lifted her hands up, as if in surrender. “Okay, I’ll stop. I swear,” she said, a few straggling chuckles escaping her lips.

He wiped his face with water, specifically with his left hand so the love message wouldn’t get exposed. “Well, if you see Ven, send him my way.”

“Ah,” she smacked her lips and shook a finger, which was expected. “That means I have to play babysitter and get in between you two.” She waved her arm dismissively when he flashed her a look of disapproval. “You’ll both thank me later when I spare you from being grounded. I won’t clean up after you guys, either.”

He knew why she would say that. The last time he and Ventus exchanged revenge pranks, the kitchen was destroyed. Explosive, ground shattering magic. Most of the evidence blamed Terra for the destruction, but the Master scolded Ventus for being provocative. They were both grounded and tasked with rebuilding it.

“I’ll give him nothing more than a noogie, I promise,” he said.

“Oh, please.” She made her way to the garden gates, her hand tracing their vinyl architecture. “Knowing the two of you, the library will be next.”

To her, it was probably nothing more than a typical day of preventing some accident. But he had surely averted a crisis as she walked away. Finally relaxed, he rubbed soap and water onto his tricep, the heart streaking black ink down his skin.

He stood up from his bed and immediately checked his nightstand - just to be sure it was still there, safe.

It was exactly where he left it before he went to sleep the night before. Her blue Wayfinder, perfect in condition and reflecting a bright radiance with its deep hue. Next to it was his own: broken, with a crack on one of the wings of the star. The silver border on that side was dislodged and severely bent, sticking straight out. He found it in this state the day he reunited with his armor, though he was grateful it wasn’t in worse condition from these odd thirteen years. As much as he treasured his orange Wayfinder, and as much as having it in his possession made him feel more complete, it really paled in comparison to hers.

For the last couple of weeks, he checked to see if hers was still there every single morning with the same desperation. He checked it every hour when he hung it around his neck - because losing it was by far a harsher reality than the one he was living now.

He sighed a breath of relief, and gazed out of his bedroom window at the mountains beyond. The sun didn’t shine as much as it used to in the Land of Departure. At least that was what it seemed to Terra. There was always a possibility that he didn’t remember it right. It was overcast, the clouds moving so slowly he was sure there was no wind blowing. It reminded him of the stillness in the castle - which he hated the most apart from the silence. Apart from the fact that she wasn’t here.

Terra flipped his legs over the side of his bed. Most of the castle had been destroyed the day the Master died, but his bedroom was as messy as it used to be. Like he left it on a typical day, and simply forgot to come back. His room was a relic: proof he had a life before Xehanort.

Clothes littered on the floor, across chairs, and stacked in corners. Papers scattered on the desk. Books hiding in random spots nearly everywhere. One particular book he had completely forgotten about: The Tales of Robin Hood, which donned a withered cover depicting a fox and a bear wearing tunics and hats. They had bows and arrows, and excitable smiles, looking forward to whatever rich lion they got to plunder next. The pages were yellowed, undisturbed by anything but time and an obsessed nine-year-old boy who used to read it every month in his young life. Inside the cover as an unevenly written claim of possession: This book belongs to Terra.

Robin Hood was the perfect hero the people needed to free them from tyranny. Smart, resourceful, witty, compassionate.

A nine-year-old Terra dreamed of becoming a Keyblade Master so he, too, could help other people and live the same example.

A twenty-year-old Terra sat on the edge of his bed in his dilapidated childhood home, with nothing to show for it. 

It was with his own hands, after all, that the worlds were in danger. His body at worst was a weapon, at best was living its own life when Xehanort was in control of it. Like he was wearing a suit. Yet Terra remembered nothing of these long years. He knew that Xehanort was the perpetrator for the hordes of Heartless that were threatening the entire multi-verse. Every person who has turned into a monster was blood on his own hands. But he didn’t know how often he tinkered in a lab. What kinds of chemicals he played with. Exactly what he did when he experimented on others. If he killed or tortured people. The clothes he wore. Who he talked to and what about. What he ate and if any of it made him sick.  When he slept and when he pulled all-nighters. If other people touched him. If other women were involved.

Terra knew he shouldn’t dwell on such thoughts, especially with no proof of the tinier details. But there came the cologne Xehanort would wear: a stench of patchouli, invading his nose. It didn’t matter how often he washed himself, somehow that smell always lingered. He already knew his body did things he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t need the reminder.

He grabbed her Wayfinder because under no circumstances would he leave the room without it. Gently placing it on his bathroom sink, he tore his clothes off and threw himself under the boiling water of his shower. He allowed his skin to burn away, hoping that this time it would stick. That all traces of Xehanort and that nauseating cologne would be incinerated for good this time. He scrubbed it raw, just to be extra certain. And he stood there, allowing the minutes to fly by as the water trickled down his skin, until he was convinced he was clean. Steam filled the entirety of the bathroom, and he only relaxed when the last sensations he felt were his own sweat coming down and the aroma of his sandalwood products clogging his nose.

His mirror was completely fogged up when he turned the water off. The skin all over his torso and arms was red from his scrubbing. But he was cleansed for now. The first order of business was to put on a clean shirt – this one a dark gray – before untying the clasp of her Wayfinder and drawing it around his neck. Its blue brilliance was flashy in comparison to anything he wore, but he was fine with that. This was the end of shower number one for the day – normally he would take three. Two if he was out for too long.

Finished and dressed, and with his bent orange Wayfinder in his pocket, Terra left his room and passed by hers. He knew it was better if he continued along and not go in. He knew it. But he couldn’t help himself – like a moth to a flame, he wondered if he preferred to torture himself, and opened the door.

Her bedroom, too, was untouched by anything.

She was always a neat and orderly person. Her desk was arranged and organized, books stacked neatly in a pile. Quills and pencils in their cases. Her work desk is mostly bare, because anything she had were stored in her drawers. A craft desk was right by it, and it was also tidy, with only a sewing machine to show for it and the rest of her supplies and trinkets organized in boxes.

She also fancied herself as the type of student that stayed out of trouble. Her dresser stood tall, no nicks or scratches into the wood like his own, because she actually followed the rules and never swung her practice weapons in her bedroom. On top of it was a collection of decorations, one of which was a sculpted dolphin that he made out of wood. He made it as a birthday gift. Maybe for her twelfth birthday? Or eleventh?

Her bed was made and the technique of it was pristine. As if she left early that morning, and would be back later that night.

Terra stared into her room. It was a fossil, sure, but proof that she used that sewing machine, and wrote essays on her desk. That he had a best friend growing up. He gently closed her door, caressing it as though it was precious.

Passing by Ventus’ room, he heard faint snoring. Peeking inside, he saw the boy sprawled out on his bed, one arm hanging off the edge, and the other thrown over his forehead. His breathing was deep and rhythmic through his open mouth, a bit of drool slipping out.

This bedroom could be best described as organized chaos: Ventus wasn’t a messy person, but his haven was a treasure trove of all the trinkets, clothes, décor, and gifts that Terra and Aqua had brought to him from their travels. One from each world they had visited. So while he had beads hanging from his lamp post, numerous tapestries covering his walls, and too many miniature statues propped on his desk, everything had a place. It was neat – just cluttered.

Ventus woke up the same boy he was thirteen years ago, unaware of anything that had happened. When he was told about what happened to the Master and Aqua, Terra found himself enduring crying fits and raging smacks on his chest. What on earth where you doing all this time, Terra? How could you have let all this happen? Ventus had screamed that day. Turning Castle Oblivion back into the way it used to be was a silently awkward experience, and it took several days before Ventus could finally start to act his normal self again.

It didn’t take long for Ventus to say he was sorry. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t hated, but Terra knew he was at fault anyway, and didn’t think he deserved the apologies. But this was in the past now. Watching his little brother, sleeping peacefully as though everything was normal, was soothing. A member of his family was back home, safe. If Ventus could find an inner tranquility to sleep through the night, then maybe it was a good omen for what was to come.

Not that Ventus would ever let Terra walk away without whining about how annoying that was, if he was caught watching over him like that. I’m not a child anymore, Terra.

The castle was so quiet that no other sound existed to smother any noise Terra would make, so he closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. Ventus could think he slept like a respectable adult today. A bullet dodged.

Days in the castle demanded too much attention and care. When they weren’t out doing missions or hunting Heartless, they spent their time fixing. And fixing. And fixing some more. But it was never enough, and the repairs were done too slowly to make that much of a difference.

The lounge area, where they used to spend time studying, hanging out, and making blanket forts together, had its outer wall completely blown open. The water damage from thirteen years’ worth of thunderstorms left behind veins of black mold that cracked through the plaster, and most of the furniture was missing.

Far too many rooms to count had the ceilings collapsed inside. The vast majority of the floors were cracked, so all of the tiles had to be replaced. Some of the outer towers were completely gone. They found one of them sprawled out over a waterfall some miles below, trees already growing through the rubble.

Some hallways, particularly the ones leading to the back of the castle, were blocked by rubble, though Terra has gotten far enough in clearing one of them. The main staircase of the west wing had also fallen completely apart, and they couldn’t use it to reach the upper floors. He passed by a cardboard box of paintings, all standing straight as if in a file. These paintings, all of them either gifts given to Eraqus by his friends or were heirlooms from Masters of the past, were displaced.

Terra could find new walls to hang them up – but that meant it wouldn’t be home anymore. Home meant that these paintings were to be hung where they used to be. Anywhere else was a poor excuse of one. So they sat there for now, waiting to return to their proper places.

The Master’s study was spared from any real damage, though it looked as though an earthquake had shuffled it: bookshelves turned over, furniture out of place, dust and soot shot out from the fireplace. The messiest of all was the large, dark mahogany desk, with all the books, letters, and scattered around as though the table threw its own contents out in a fit. The windows were thankfully still intact, overlooking the back area of the castle. The Master used to watch his gardens grow from here. Now, the gardens were overtaken with weeds and patches of dry dirt.

This room was the most important – Terra wanted to arrange it back exactly the way it was, but he had too much work ahead of him. It didn’t smell of the Master anymore, merely something that was empty and void of any real life. Yet despite the horrendous mess, it was still so familiar.

Terra could picture the Master sitting at his desk, the morning sun shining through the windows as he whittled away at another letter with his pen, a mug of coffee close by. Smiling up at him behind that bushy mustache, his voice warm and content.

Good morning, Terra. I hope your dreams were pleasant. May the rest of your day be brighter.

Eraqus always greeted everyone each day with that phrase. What Terra would give to hear it now.

He opened the Master’s leather-bound journal where he logged his daily messages. Eraqus had the most legible, impeccable form for handwriting, as though he made it an art of his own. His cursive strokes were carefully crafted over years of perfecting the technique, as though he made sure to respect every thought that passed through his own mind.

Terra had read the last three entries to his Master’s log several times – remnants of his final thoughts and plans the day of his death. To see if he could feel what the Master felt in those final hours.

He turned over several pages where he went through his own entries. His handwriting was scratchy and uneven, as though he stayed a child. He picked up a quill and dipped it into fresh ink, then gazed over to the message-globe on the desk. It was a magical object, with a curved base that held a spinning, metallic, semicircular apparatus, and a tight golden harp string down the middle. When plucked, the string set off a vibration that summoned the apparatus to spin and blur until a glowing sphere took its place. The Master used this for receiving and sending messages in private.

Since coming back to the castle, Terra logged inquiries, cries for help, and everything in between that was sent to the Land of Departure since the Master’s death. They served as notes for worlds he would visit, to see if he could still save them. He wrote the date for the newest entry, the sender of the latest message, and some notes.

This new message was the exact dispatch he’d been waiting for.

Terra knew that today was going to be different, but difficult. He’d better get started.

Hurrying over to the kitchen, he filled a pot with flour, beef broth, and salt, and started boiling. Terra didn’t memorize recipes for stews – they were simple enough to make. But it wasn’t like he made them as delicious as Aqua’s. Potatoes, carrots, and onions, but these barely did anything to add a complex taste, and Ventus had complained enough about the bland food. He sprawled out different seasonings and stared at them for a while after gently adding slabs of beef into the pot. Paprika, a sprinkle of it. Perhaps Aqua would have added more for flavor, so he dumped a portion. Then he cut garlic. She probably would have relied on these the most, so he cut some more. Peppers – the more, the merrier. A hefty sum of cayenne.

Anything to make it flavorful. Aqua would have poured a mouthful of spices, right?

The kitchen was baked in an aroma that burned his eyes when Ventus approached the dining table.

“Morning, buddy,” Terra said. He tried to sound cheerful, and hoped it was successful.

Ventus mumbled an attempt at a greeting while rubbing his eyes, and waddled over to his chair.

Terra added a small amount of milk and stirred into the stew in order to tame it, before pouring a bowl of it in front of his friend. “This will certainly clear the sinuses.”

Ventus took one look at it. “Another stew.”

“I promise this will pack a punch.” Terra poured himself a bowl and sat at the head of the table. A pause. He wanted to at least start the day right. “I hope your dreams were pleasant, Ven. May the rest of your day be brighter.”

It sounded unnatural, coming from his lips. He didn’t know if he should mimic his Master’s enunciations, or if he should give it his own personality.

Ventus gazed at him, giving a sad smile while he nodded to himself. “With practice, it will sound better.” He meant it as a joke, but it came out morose.

Teasing was good. It was a form of affection that was appreciated. But some things have changed since their reunion. Normally, Ventus would nag him about the constant showering, but he didn’t.

He never teased about the fact that Aqua’s Wayfinder was always found around Terra’s neck, either. Terra didn’t take this as a sign of resentment, but one of respect.

The two boys picked at their food, the clash between spoon and bowl ringing in the hushed dining room as they slurped. Ventus sniffled, the intense amount of spices making his nose run.

There wasn’t an easy way to bring it up – the conversation about “the plan” was one that usually got tense. The Master would be entirely disappointed with what they were aiming to do. Lectures of how imperative it was to protect people, and how forbidden it was to ever use the Keyblade against the heart of another lingered in his mind. It was a path to darkness, but it was their best shot at getting her back. The best course of action, then, was to just get it over with.

“I got a message back from Yen Sid’s tower,” Terra said. “The good fairies agreed to meet us at Enchanted Dominion.”

Ventus shot a look up from his bowl, his attention caught. “Okay. But why there?”

Terra swirled his spoon into his stew. “I need to apologize to Princess Aurora,” he said slowly. They knew what he was talking about, and neither of them were going to go into detail as to why. “I also need to ask her a few questions.”

“To execute the plan,” There was a sense of bitterness in Ventus’ tone. He wasn’t alone, because both of them hated what they were going to do. “So I’ll just train with the fairies there?”

Terra took a long breath, looked at his friend straight in the eye, and kept his voice low. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It isn’t pretty, seeing Aqua the way she is.”

“I want to help.” Ventus leaned forward with a fist on the table, his eyes glaring with determination. “I need to.”

“Okay,” Terra said with a small smile. Part of him felt relieved. “You’re better with the tricksy stuff anyway. We’ll head out as soon as breakfast is finished.”

Ventus gave out a half-hearted chuckle, not used to being trusted so much. He must be anxious about it, too. He said so before. While he fiddled more with his food, Terra reached out and held him firmly on the shoulder, in a manner meant to be comforting.

“When you see Aqua,” he told Ventus, “make sure to smile at her. Can you do that for me?”

It was late afternoon in San Fransokyo when they arrived. The sun cast out a warm, orange hue over the vast metropolis, which normally would host millions of hustling people. But not today.

Today, Heartless and data corruption overtook the city, and the people have evacuated. Some citizens have equipped themselves with the machinery to fight back, and were flying across the skies as they battled against armies of darkness.

The young Xehanort was in town. This alone interested Terra, but what convinced the both of them to come after their excursion in Enchanted Dominion was a short message from Sora: She’s here.

Terra and Ventus tracked down the time traveler. And she was, in fact, there with him - down an empty street, blocks away from the warfare Sora was leading against hordes of large Heartless.

Sneaking through a nearby alleyway and hiding behind opposing dumpsters, they were still too far away to eavesdrop on what the two cloaked Organization members were discussing. Aqua had her arms crossed, not giving Xehanort much of the respect to look at him while she answered his requests. They talked on, as if they had no idea about the combat that was happening streets away.

Ventus, crouching behind his dumpster and looking over his shoulder, let out a sigh when he saw her. But he did well to keep those feelings in.

Her hair was nearly white now, but what was most unsettling were her facial expressions. Some were worn on her face with familiarity – boredom, anticipation, annoyance. But when she smiled, it was bizarre. It was devilish, it was cocky.

“Sometimes, I wasn’t sure which Aqua I was dealing with,” Terra said in a hushed voice. His throat was constricted, his heart pounding so hard it was about to burst out and bleed over. Even though he had seen her like this before, it was still just as unbearable as the first time.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I can’t tell if it’s Aqua, if it’s Xehanort… or strangely, if it’s both of them…” his voice trailed off. When he was the one possessed, he had no control. But there were still voices he heard in the darkness, constantly keeping him quiet and asleep, telling him to give up. Was it the same for her? Was she better at fighting them off, or was she constantly losing every day?

He held her Wayfinder, resting on his chest. “You know Aqua is a slow burner when she gets angry.”

Ventus shrugged, smirking. “Sometimes.”

Terra couldn’t help himself but let out a chuckle. “Well, this Aqua acts like she’s doused in gasoline. Any small thing you say can make her explode - if she sets off at all. Her moods change in seconds, and you never know how she will react.”

“You talk about her like she’s a completely different person.”

“I…” He stroked her Wayfinder with his thumb, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I’m not sure what to make of her, honestly.” He just wished she was back to normal.

A shadow grew and formed an archway behind her, an incredibly large man wearing the same robe stepping out from it. Shoulder-length white hair, dark-skinned, barrel-chested, more than a head taller than her, with Terra’s face.

Ventus leaned onto his dumpster and squinted his eyes to get a closer look. “Who the heck is that?”

The replacement. It was shocking at first, like seeing a mirror image but one that had a lifeform of its own. Almost like an out of body experience. But his expressions were different too. Terra was sure he didn’t look like that when he smiled.

Either way, this Aqua had a new Terra of her own.

“Ugh…” Ventus shuddered. “I hope I never get a clone made out me, that’s creepy.”

He might have said that too loud. Aqua turned her head their direction, and they ducked back against the walls of the alleyway as fast as they could. They held their breaths, and inched their knees to their chests, as if to completely disappear behind the cover of the dumpsters.

They waited several seconds like this before Terra slowly inched forward, trying to hear if someone was approaching. Silence. He risked a peek.

“Sorry,” he heard Ventus whisper. “Did she see us?”

It seemed she hadn’t. The Terra-clone was moving his mouth, Xehanort attentive to his words. A half-cocked smile showed itself on her face, as if she found what he said only mildly funny.

Aqua said something, reaching her hand to touch the elbow of the clone. He gazed upon her, but this expression – this one – was perfectly readable. He did his best to remain calm, but a creeping smile and a glint in his eyes showed that he relished her touch.

Terra could relate to what that felt like and whipped his head back behind the dumpster. Put simply, he couldn’t bear to watch her touch that man. Losing her to darkness was devastating. But Terra was certain that his chest became several pounds heavier, and that his heart was nearly choked out of him because he also lost her to a substitute.

“You okay?” Ventus asked. He was leaning against his dumpster, but he was watching Terra with such concern and sympathy. “They’re leaving.”

He told himself that he would survive this, and reluctantly looked over his shoulder again. She led the clone through a newly opened corridor of darkness. They left behind Xehanort, who barked orders as they faded away.

“She’s gone. What now?” Ventus let out a sharp sigh.

What now, indeed. A vessel for Master Xehanort, Aqua was certainly a threat to all worlds. Yet she was entirely unstable. The younger one was an anomaly, protected by his own powerful magic and time travel. He was a haunting and was just as much of a menace (and perhaps more so) because of her condition. To protect this world, they all have to go down.

Terra knew on some level, this was about revenge, too. Though he didn’t care if this was unsightly for a proper Keyblade wielder anymore.

“We need to get her alone if we’re going to do anything,” Terra finally said, watching the younger Xehanort start to walk away. “But we also have a duty as Keyblade wielders…

“Ven, listen.” They looked into each other’s eyes, as if discussing a matter of military importance. “I need you to be my surprise factor. You should find a spot higher up on these skyscrapers, but not too far. I’m going to ambush Xehanort, and you need to be ready for my signal so you can strike him from above.”

“What about Aqua?”

“With him out of the way, we can focus on separating her from the other one.” Terra leaned forward and grabbed Ventus by the shoulder, his stare more intense as he needed this last message to stick. “I need you to wait for my call.”

He needed to protect Ventus, and would rather have use him as a finishing blow than keep him around too long in the heat of battle.

Ventus nodded immediately, his eyes full of resolve. “You can count on me.”

With that, the boy hopped over through an open window, disappearing into an unfurnished building where he started to climb up stairs. Terra stepped out of the alleyway, briskly following his target. But he made no effort to keep quiet.

Xehanort stopped in his tracks and faced him. If he was surprised, he made good effort not to show it. “The last time you and I spoke,” he began, his eyes narrowing in amusement and his smirk broadening, “you said I’d be afraid of you upon our next meeting.”

Terra said nothing in return, but instead summoned his Master’s Defender. It was lighter in weight than his own Keyblade, but it packed a magical punch that protected him more efficiently from severe attacks. It was a formidable weapon, but it had more to do with wielding the love for his lost ones. With her Wayfinder and Eraqus’ Keyblade, he would still have a hold onto light - even if he didn’t think he had any left for himself anymore.

“You failed,” Xehanort continued.

He succeeded. He failed. He heard both from the same, twisted man and it meant nothing.  The one thing that was necessary was to shove that smug face right into the concrete.

“I know for a fact that today, you’ll see the end of yourself,” Terra said, perhaps too confidently.

No, he could risk being cocky. He also had Ventus by his side.

Xehanort called for his own Keyblade, unique in its design and barely resembling the old man’s. “Need I remind you this is why you’d fall so easily as a victim to darkness? You’ve served your purpose well as a preservative for long enough. Yet you are such a weakling.”

There was no time to spit a smart retort over being such a disappointment. Xehanort warped to close the gap between them, and he kept this level of aggression throughout.

Terra was kept constantly on his feet to dodge each strike toward him. A strong magic user who loved to rely on deception, Xehanort particularly enjoyed zipping in between positions, just to get Terra to lean one direction so he could be struck from behind. It kept him on the edge of a puppet’s string, and he was played like a cat attempting to strike a fly. Xehanort was fast, his magic damaging.

But his strikes were weak. All that was needed was for Terra to endure. Dodge, endure. Wait for the opportune moment.

Until their Keyblades clashed. Terra, of course, was stronger, and was able to push Xehanort back. Now that the previous rhythm had been interrupted, the tables had turned and Terra took this opportunity to get more aggressive. To create his own flow in between Xehanort’s teleportations, and throw counter-strikes.

What was left was to maneuver Xehanort close enough to Ventus’ building. He’d let his friend, his comrade, his brother, do the rest.

And he almost had his victory, until she called out –

“Enough.”

Aqua casually strolled up to them, the sway in her walk self-assured, her face not impressed with what she had seen.

This was bad. It wasn’t about going up against two incredibly powerful opponents. Rather, Terra simply refused to raise a finger on her body. He wouldn’t ask Ventus to do the same, either. He prepared his fighting stance, ready to summon his glider so he could escape. Yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes away. It had been a while since he last saw her, and to think of leaving her behind... Yet… what if he had no choice?

He kept his grip on his Master’s Keyblade.

Xehanort glared at her. “Where is Xemnas?”

“We’ve got trouble.”  She crossed her arms as she took her place by Xehanort’s side. She glanced at Terra for merely a short second, but kept her focus on her partner. Her stare was unwavering, like a cat watching prey.

“Enough to incapacitate him?” He almost sounded disbelieving. But his eyes contorted with frustration and he huffed. “We’ll disable the Keyblade wielder here, then. Ventus would then be completely unprotected.”

That last statement was an attempt at arousing Terra’s anger, but it didn’t work. He just couldn’t focus.

Her stare. She stared at Xehanort as if she was studying him. It was deadpan and placid, like she was losing herself in his face, and each moment she kept relaxed and stayed silent, Terra knew. This was the face of someone who was ready to throw herself into the abyss.

She nonchalantly waved her arm around, her palm open. Shot from it was a gathering of lightning bolts so powerful that it sent Xehanort flying across the street, crashing into the wall of a building. He fell onto the ground, his body laying lifelessly. His Keyblade dissipated, leaving him defenseless and unconscious.

She flexed her fingers vigorously. Ventus was still watching, waiting for a cue. But Terra couldn’t allow this to turn into a fight. He was desperate to know if she was safe and okay, yet he was terrified of speaking. How unpredictable was she going to be this time? What did any of this mean?

“Going rogue?” he finally asked, as if giving her a friendly question.

“Taking out the trash.” She sounded like herself, but her voice was deeper. It was tired, yet full of spite. “I’ve no need for those who’ve hurt me.” With those last two words, she finally looked at him, her gold eyes piercing.

He shook his head. “I’m not going to fight you, Aqua.”

Her face shuddered, as if she was processing an insult. She cocked her head to the side. “How courteous of you to consider my feelings,” she said through her teeth, sarcasm oozing through.

“I don’t want to be your enemy.”

Her eyes widened, and he swore he could see her pupils shrinking. She started to stride toward him with such nerve that it looked like she was preparing herself to slap him.

“Enemies,” she said mockingly, “friends. It’s too late for them to matter anymore.”

With that, she waved her hand to flash a set of threatening bolts his way. He blocked them, but it forced him to stagger backward. Even with the magical boost the Defender provided, it wasn’t a match for her power and mastery over spells.

Terra held his open palm to the ground, as if commanding a dog to stay. A cue to stand ground. Ventus shouldn’t swoop in to help him. Not now. Not yet.

“Who are you signaling to?” She threw another wave of bolts. He blocked again, but barely matched her speed. This time, he stumbled.

“Don’t mock me,” she growled. “Fight back!”

Her next wave hit him directly. The electricity gripped his entire body and stabbed him several times. His heart beat terribly and quickly, as if begging to be taken out or it would die. But he stood his ground. Allowed the dark energy of her magic to channel through his body and toward the Keyblade, using it as a conductor. Enduring the pain, whimpering from it.

When it was over, he immediately reached for her Wayfinder. It was still intact. He finally remembered to breathe.

“Did it hurt?” he heard her ask.

Then it dawned on him. The shock she sent Xehanort took him out of the ring completely in one swoop. He wondered if she was the trouble that fell on Xemnas.

But her attack this time didn’t even compare in power. She was holding back on him, just to see him wince.

“I get it now,” he said, his voice shaking. He started to tremble, unsure if he wanted to hear what he was going to say. Scared of how she would react. “You want me to feel pain.” 

She pursed her lips.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he continued. “You want me to hurt.” He raised his voice. “Well it does. I am miserable every day. I can’t stand to see you this way. I can’t stand to be away from you, and I hate that I still exist while you continue to suffer for my sake!”

Her brows furrowed and her eyes started to tear, as if she realized something horrific. She grabbed her left arm rapidly, as if she was suffering intense pain. Her grip was so strong, it twisted the fabric of her cloak.

“You should have left me to rot in the Realm of Darkness, Aqua. I would have at least found some peace knowing you were safe.” He stopped yelling, but it was a struggle to keep his voice even. “So yes, it does hurt. Does that make you feel better?”

Her breath was shallow and she didn’t let go of her grip on herself. She leaned into her arm, as if seeking comfort for herself. She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Terra sighed, willfully ignoring the soreness throughout his whole body, and how tight his chest felt. He stepped forward and reached his hand out. “Come with us, then. Come home.” He caught a sob before it left him. “We just want you to get better.”

“Get better.” She said it in a way to mimic him. Her eyes scattered the ground and darted in many directions around her. What was going through her mind?

He couldn’t ask her. Aqua had this look of gloom, as if suddenly being told the most devastating secret only she could hear. She let go of her grip and clutched her fist at her heart. Shaking, she whimpered, and collapsed backward.

“Aqua!” he gasped, running toward her and dropping the Defender on the ground. He cradled her in his arms, holding her firmly so she’d stop trembling. She looked into his eyes, her own wide in fear. She groaned through closed lips, trying so hard to speak to him but couldn’t.

Her hands shook violently, yet she managed to pull one of her gloves off. The tips of her fingers were bright red, the rest of her arm a burnt violet. It was unsightly, and- was she turning inhuman? It took her a lot of effort, but she raised it to touch his cheek.

Her fingers were deathly cold, hardened, and scaly. Like a lizard’s skin. She cupped his cheek, her thumb feeling the width of his face. He reached to hold her hand in his, which was still so petite in comparison. He held it tenderly, trying to warm it up, yet mortified of shattering her to pieces if he squeezed too tightly. 

“Terra!” Ventus landed on the ground and skidded over to where they were. “Whoa,” he said when he saw the state of her skin, “did that happen to you?”

“No,” he said, not taking his gaze away from her. She held it in return, searching his eyes as if finding a reason to continue on. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We stick to the plan,” he said without missing a beat. There was nothing else that they knew to do, and she needed help now.

Aqua continued to stare up at him, like a child gazing through the window of a candy store. She didn’t acknowledge Ventus’ presence at all, and it made him wonder whether she was truly conscious of what she was looking at.

“Hey,” he called to her with a soft smile, “Ven’s here. Look.” He gently coaxed her hand over and pointed his finger.

She blinked and slowly followed his lead, as though it took her a while to comprehend what she was doing.

“Hey, Aqua,” Ventus said, though his voice was completely shaken by nerves. He smiled, albeit it was forced and intimidated, and he shot several sideways glances toward Terra as if to beg for instructions on what to do.

At the sight of his smile, her eyes widened and she moaned with awe. She reached out to touch him, and he took her hand with both of his own.

“We’re finally together again,” he said, keeping a grin up and trying not break down. “Terra kind of sucks with cooking and it’s too quiet. I’ve missed you, Aqua. We both have.”

She whimpered in response, her eyes watery.

Xehanort was still unconscious, sprawled out on the ground. They’d better get this over with, before any reinforcements threaten to take her back again.

“We’re going to help you, Aqua,” Terra said, and she returned her golden eyes back to him, softening when looking into his. He adjusted his arms so that her head was supported better, to make her more comfortable. “It’s not going to hurt. Okay? You’re not going to feel a single little thing.” His breathing deepened. This sucked. But it had to be done. “Trust me.”

She blinked several times in response, the twitch in her brows almost begging for some salvation.

“Ven is going to put you into a very deep sleep.”

Her pupils dilated, and in desperation she grabbed onto his shirt, her strength so fragile that she scratched him through the fabric. Her face quivered furiously, and she finally managed to move her mouth to speak.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. Her voice was hoarse, shaky, and barely audible.

He took her hand and carried it over her Wayfinder, safely resting on his chest. “I will be by your side the entire time, Aqua. I promise.”

He meant it. It was a promise he made for himself, as well. 

Eventually she nodded, though her head waggled a bit and made circular movements.

Terra gestured toward his comrade with his head, a blessing to finally start.

Ventus intertwined his fingers together, attempting to steady his breathing. Like someone willing themselves to do something they were frightened of, he finally summoned his Keyblade in his left hand, and pet the top of her crown with his right. Hovering the Keyblade over her forehead, he closed his eyes and calmed himself. He didn’t say anything, but eventually the Wayward Wind glowed with a soft blue light. This was the spell he learned from the good fairies.

Her eyes fluttered and relaxed, gently shutting as the tension in her entire body released. She leaned more into Terra’s embrace, as if she knew she was protected.

“You did good, Ven,” Terra said, nodding in approval and encouragement.

Ventus withdrew his Keyblade, gulping. He looked as though he was slightly nauseous.

If she was going to be stuck with the gradient blue-to-white hair after this was over, she’d still be stunning. Terra brushed the hair off her face, stroking the skin of her forehead before going to her cheek. Her face was still soft, yet not as warm as it should be. She looked peaceful and carefree in her sleep, and deservedly so.

“Terra?”

Ventus shifted uncomfortably, looking back toward Xehanort for signs of movement. It was dusk now. They were taking too long.

“Right.” The Master’s Keyblade laid by itself on the ground, but Terra wouldn’t dare taint it. It would have been disrespectful in his memory.

He summoned his own Keyblade, which was used to do the forbidden once before. Wielders were supposed to be protectors of light and hearts. Even when manipulated and forced by an evil witch, Terra remembered what it felt like to pull a heart out of a body, which was a terrible and forbidden act. To wield the power to mess with a person’s life.

Now he was faced with the choice to do it again, but toward the person he cared about most. What kind of Keyblade Master could he ever be if he was doing the things that would make someone like Xehanort pleased?

He could ask for her forgiveness, but this was just an addition to the list of things he needed pardon for. 

He could tell her he loved her again, but that was a pain that stabbed hard. A sober Aqua may still leave him after all.

But none of that mattered. He still owed her freedom, and he would go that far to grant it.

Without anything meaningful to say, Terra aimed his Keyblade toward her chest, and called for two hearts.

#terraqua #terra #aquanort #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #ventus #young xehanort #angst #truthfully i am terrified of sharing this #my symptoms are still firing and it's so hard #but here is some of my garbage #i hope it's at least enjoyable #my fic

[annathewitch]

The Golden Bird: Prologue & Chapter 1

Summary: Eomer X Reader. Fairytale AU. As a gardener’s daughter in Edoras, your life is expected to be simple and dull, but you get caught up in a quest to find a mysterious Golden Bird which might be the key to breaking a curse on the Rohirrim.

Words: 4,000

Warnings: None! Not even swearing.

A/N: Based on the Grimm Brothers fairytale, the Golden Bird, for @thefanficfaerie’s Flip The Script Fairytale Challenge. Hoping to post the whole fic within the next week or so! This bit is largely scene setting and the adventure really begins in the next part. I have taken some liberties with the geography of Middle Earth. Not canon LOTR compliant.

...

Prologue

Once upon a time in Edoras, the once great city of the horselords, there lived a King. Theoden King was not one of the great Kings of Rohan, not a warrior like Eorl, or full of the wisdom of Brego, but he was kind and fair and under his rule the Rohirrim lived in relative peace and prosperity. He doted on his beautiful wife Elfhild, and for her happiness he created the gardens of the palace Meduseld. In the centre of the gardens, Elfhild planted the most beautiful apple tree, which bore the sweetest tasting fruit with delicate skin of gold. The King and Queen were happy, and the tree flourished.

But tragedy befell Theoden King. Elfhild bore him a strong son, but sickened with childbed fever and when Prince Theodred was scarcely a week old she died. His grief was great for his lost love, and though he sought joy in his son and heir, his heart did not recover. In short order his sister and brother were also cruelly taken from him, and Theoden King vowed in his grief to care for their children, Éomer and Éowyn as if they were his own. The King did his best to raise the three children, and to serve the people of Rohan, but without the counsel of his beloved and his family, he succumbed to a deep melancholy.

Around this time, a man from the North who came to be known as the Wormtongue, wheedled and connived his way into the court at Edoras, dripping honeyed words into the ear of the King until he became a most trusted advisor and the most powerful man in Rohan next to Theoden. There were whispers that he was in league with woodland elves, or a great wizard, but none spoke openly, for those who challenged him met with unfortunate fates. As the children grew they saw Wormtongue for the parasite he was, and he began to see the children as a threat to his power and influence.

When the children were full grown, Theodred and Éomer were sent to defend the borders of Rohan from Dunlendings and Orcs, and though the Prince was a strong and clever warrior and the finest horseman, he was felled from his horse while crossing the River Isen and killed. Eomer grew suspicious for the fatal blow struck his cousin from behind, but he kept his own counsel until he could return to Edoras and speak with his Uncle.

Eomer laid his discovery bare, but Wormtongue’s influence had grown too deep, and Theoden refused to listen to his tale. Afterwards, those who witnessed the scene whispered that the King had been mad with grief and his nephew incandescent with rage. So when one night Eomer and his sister disappeared and Eomer’s horse went missing from the stables, it was easy to believe the Wormtongue’s rumours that they had run away. And, despite a search the length and breadth of Rohan, they were not seen or heard from again.

Where once Theoden King had been kind and just, he grew bitter and cold at the loss of everything he had held dear. And as the years passed, Wormtongue led him to apathy and greed, and the Rohirrim suffered. As the harvests failed, and the horse herds dwindled, and Edoras fell into disrepair, so too the tree that bore the precious golden apples began to sicken and wither until it produced but a handful of fruit.

The only faint and almost forgotten hope of a people in despair was the prophecy of the wise man Mithrandir who had foretold that in time a shieldmaiden would ride into Edoras on a Mearas stallion, bearing the sword of a son of Eorl, and she would restore Rohan to prosperity. But there had been no shieldmaidens for many ages, and none likely to appear soon.

...

Chapter 1

You were content with your lot in life, really you were. As the daughter of Meduseld’s gardener, even in these difficult times your family never went without enough food to eat or a roof over your head. And when you saw so many others in need on the streets of Edoras, it would be foolish and ungrateful for you to hope for something more than keeping your father’s house and waiting on your older brothers.

Still you dreamed of adventure. Hanging the linens to dry in the little yard of the cottage high up on the hill above the city, you could see for many leagues the stretch of the plains of Rohan and the forests beyond, and you would imagine what wonders lay out there. Imagine a world where the childhood tales of an age of shieldmaidens performing great deeds, were still true.

But of course, your life went on in the same old routine of cooking and cleaning and helping your father in the gardens, and the best you could reasonably expect was to catch the eye of a young rider, or a tradesman and exchange your father’s house for a husband’s.

The same old routine, that was, until your father burst into the cottage one day, breathless and ashen, as if he had seen the ghost of one of his forefathers. He slumped down at the table head in his hands.

“Father, what is the matter?” you asked pressing a cup of mead into his hands.

“Y/N! We are ruined, and you shall likely be cast out of our home and made to beg on the streets.” At your shocked expression he continued. “I was summoned before the Wormtongue today, and accused of stealing golden apples from the King’s tree. They are now so rare that the King has set a man to count them every day. Two have disappeared over the last two nights. Unless I can prove that I am not the culprit by three days hence, I shall be branded a thief and my life shall be forfeit. What am I to do?”

“Oh father!” Your mind whirled as you tried to think. “We may only prove your innocence by catching the true thief. We must set a watch tonight and see if he returns to catch him in the act.”

“Aye, my clever girl, you are right. But I am too old and too weary. Your brother Elfric must sit guard.”

“Father, may I not do it? I would be watchful and careful, and I am good with my bow” you pleaded. For as much as he was your oldest brother, you knew Elfric tended to laziness and would hesitate to trust such an important task to him.

However, your father was not to be swayed. “No child, your brother shall do this. It may be dangerous to catch a brazen thief in the act. It is a task for a grown man.”

So Elfric, though unhappy at the responsibility and the discomfort of spending a night on the ground, was sent to watch in the gardens. At midnight an unbearable sleepiness overwhelmed him, and when the morning came and you went to find out what he had seen you found him asleep beneath the apple tree and another of the fruit was gone.

Your father was sick with worry, and despite your pleas to be allowed to keep watch, the next night he set your next brother Wulfric to the task. But Wulfric was little better than his brother. Again, the midnight hour approached and he too could not resist the temptation to close his eyes. In the morning he lay sprawled asleep amongst the roots of the sickening tree, and a fourth apple had been taken from under his nose.

There was just one last chance to catch the thief before your father would be taken for the crime. You pleaded and cajoled with him to permit you to sit in wait that night, certain that you would not fail at the task. Resigned to his fate, your father eventually relented, and so on the third night your wore your warmest woollen dress and taking up your bow you wrapped yourself in a big dark cloak and settled under the canopy of the apple tree in the shadows of the trunk.

The hours passed. Resolved as you were to stay awake, you played games to pass the time. As the stars in the sky brightened, you listed each of the constellations your mother had taught you, until eventually you searched out the mighty Leona, lion of Rohan just as the midnight bell tolled.

All at once, from the north came a whisper of wind through the branches, which shook the leaves and seemed to murmur a lullaby in your ear. Your eyes grew heavy and your mind began to drift as you could feel yourself relax against the trunk of the great tree. But the fate of your brothers the previous nights had made you cautious and you were prepared to struggle against the feeling of overwhelming weariness. Gripping a sharp stone you dug it into your palm, and with the flare of pain the fogginess seemed to flee.

Alert again now, you could hear a rustling from high up in the branches and, quietly as you could, you drew your bow, notched an arrow, and shifted to try and catch a glimpse of what you presumed was the thief in the tree. It was hard to discern in the dark, but there was certainly something on one of the high branches where apples still grew. Then all at once, the leaves parted and the moonlight glinted off a golden wing. A bird!

Swiftly you drew your bowstring, aimed, and in the space between heartbeats you let the arrow fly. You were a fair shot, more naturally skilled than your brothers, who preferred a sword or spear and you were gratified to hear a squawk. But perhaps the branch had bounced or the wind had blown a fraction harder, and you saw the bird take flight, flashes of light as its wings beat, carrying it back towards the north.

For a second you cursed your luck, for without the creature, you would not be able to prove it was the culprit. Then the branches shifted again, and a single feather of the most delicate gold floated to ground in front of you. You scooped it up and tucked it in the pocket of your cloak, and resumed your watch. For though you knew in your heart that the bird was the thief, you could not take a chance that another would not try their luck to take a precious apple from the tree.

As dawn broke, you ran shivering back to your father’s cottage where he waited huddled by the banked hearth, and showed him your precious evidence.

“My clever child! Wake your brothers, for we must take this to the great hall at once.”

With much complaint they were removed from their beds, and jealous looks passed between them at your success, but at length you arrived at the doors of Meduseld to request an audience. Eventually your father was called to the dais, where Theoden King sat pale and slack in his throne, and the Wormtongue stood like a skinny crow at his right side.

The King did not speak, rather the Wormtongue spoke for him. “Master Gardener, what proof have you of your innocence in the matter of the theft of the King’s apples? Three days have passed.”

“My daughter discovered the thief last night. It was a b-bird my Lord,” your father stammered, offering the feather up. Wormtongue took it between slender fingers which could have been made from bone, and twirled it thoughtfully.

“Your daughter you say? How odd. Bring her forth, for the King wishes to look at her.”

You didn’t like the tone in the advisor’s voice, and you wondered how he knew the King’s wishes when Theoden had not spoken a word, but you stepped forward beside your father and dipped an awkward curtsey. Wormtongue descended the steps from the dais, and looked you up and down through beady black eyes. You suppressed a shiver.

“How did you come by the feather girl?” He crooned the question, twirling the feather all the while, so the light glinted off it, and you felt a strange sensation in the back of your mind.

Shaking your head you answered. “I shot at the bird. It flew away, but left this feather behind. No other came near the apple tree all night.”

“Indeed? And are you skilled with a bow?” Somehow it felt like the question held more weight than a simple enquiry about your prowess.

“I am a fair shot, but there are many better than I,” you demurred, avoiding his unsettling gaze. It seemed to satisfy him, for with one last sweeping glance, he ascended to stand beside the King once more.

“This feather is a rare and precious thing. It is the King’s wish that the bird be found and brought to him, that it might adorn the coffers of Rohan, and its golden feathers compensate for the loss of the apples. Gardener, as the apples were lost under your watch, the crown charges you with this task. There will be great reward should the bird be brought to him.”

You stared openmouthed at the Wormtongue, and then looked to your father who could scarcely manage to pay the customary respects to his King, before the two of you were ushered to the doors again, where your brothers waited.

In the safety of the cottage, your father bemoaned his fate.

“I am to bring back the golden bird, but how am I even to find it? I am too old and frail to venture far from the city,” he wailed, and you tried to soothe him.

“One of us must set out to find it in your place, father,” you offered.

“My clever girl! Of course my children will help me in my hour of need. But which of you is equal to the task? It will surely be dangerous to go adventuring in such times as orcs and Dunlendings roam the plains and forests.”

How desperate you were to volunteer, for you longed to see the world beyond Edoras, to scoff at the fate that was laid at your feet to be a wife and mother, and instead walk in the footsteps of the Shieldmaidens of old. But you knew that you father would not willingly let you go. As you wrestled with your desire and your duty, you were surprised when your oldest brother spoke up.

“Y/N may very well have stayed awake all night, and shot at a bird, for that is nothing really. Nothing to the bravery required for such a venture as this. As the oldest I should go, for I am entitled to claim the reward before my brother and sister. It is the task of a full grown man.” At this he puffed up his chest.

You bit your tongue, for you had done better than him to stay awake, but knew that it would be futile to protest. Your father doted on his sons, and could never see the idleness and dissipation as anything more than youthful spirits.

“Very well, Elfric my son. You shall be the one to find the bird and bring it back.”

And so within a few days, your oldest brother rode out of the gates of Edoras laden with supplies and a purse of silver and headed north towards Helm’s Deep. On the second day of his journey, he forded the Isen, crossing the border of Rohan heading for the Fangorn Forest, for surely if a magical creature were to live anywhere it would be in the forest.

Wisps of smoke on the horizon indicated some kind of settlement and Elfric picked up his pace a little. He had spent the previous night camped at the roadside, and, unused to the hard uncomfortable ground, had vowed to find a proper bed and perhaps some willing company for the second night. The life of an adventurer did not need to be a dull one after all. Full of pleasant anticipation he did not notice the creature that sat in the road ahead of him, until a soft growl startled his horse, which shied away from the sound.

It was a large mountain lion with a tawny golden fur that crouched alert and watchful, blocking the path between two large rocks. Elfric fumbled his spear out of the loop on his saddle and aimed it at the animal, which got to its feet.

“I do not wish to harm you traveller,” the lion spoke with a deep, rough voice. “I know of your quest to seek the Golden Bird, and I can give you good counsel. You will reach a village tonight with an inn, but do not stop there. Continue into the Fangorn Forest and make camp for the night and I will help you.”

Elfric, considered the animal, which was lean and had a raw-looking gash on its rear haunch. What could such a creature know of my business, your brother thought. And without further consideration he hurled his spear. The lion moved with surprising swiftness and his shot merely grazed it, but the creature was gone, disappeared into the forest without another word.

Your oldest brother continued on, and at nightfall reached the village the lion had described, and a cheerful, well-kept inn with brightly lit windows beckoned to him. A wench with a pretty smile and ample charms waited ready to welcome him at the threshold. The words the lion had spoken to him were barely even recalled as Elfric’s appetites drove him to the door. He entered the place and took his fill of all the delights that were offered, forgetting the Golden Bird and the quest and his duty to his family and King.

A month passed back in Edoras, with no word from your oldest sibling, and your father grew sick with grief and worry that something terrible had befallen him. The Wormtongue summoned him back to Meduseld. Again the advisor called you into his presence and looked you up and down appraisingly, twirling the golden feather so that the light bouncing off its delicate fronds began to mesmerise you. He did not address you, but his intent stare was unnerving, and you were glad when your father was dismissed with a reminder of his duty to his King to bring the Golden Bird to him.

Though this time you begged your father to be allowed to follow Elfric and take up the quest, he merely patted your hand and told you that your place was in Edoras, keeping house for him. Instead your less than eager brother Wulfric was sent out with a purse of silver, to ride north and seek the Golden Bird, and you played the part of the devoted sister watching him ride away over the plains as your heart longed for adventure.

At length, Wulfric forded the Isen and headed for Fangorn Forest. And he too was waylaid by the mountain lion who gave the same advice he had imparted to your oldest brother many weeks before. Now he possessed a little less arrogance than his brother, and listened gravely to the words of the lion with every intention of heeding them. But though his intentions were true, poor Wulfric was gifted with very little of his own initiative and as he rode through the pretty little village and passed the inn that the lion had spoken about, he saw his brother Elfric waving to him from the doorway.

What harm can it do for me to stop and say hello to my brother, to take one drink and find out if he is well, Wulfric thought to himself. And so, being so easily swayed, he was persuaded to enter the inn and after his first drink persuaded to take another, and a third, and before long he had forgotten the Golden Bird and his family, just as Elfric had.

Again time passed in Edoras, and you continued in your dull routine. There were whisperings that Theoden King grew sicker and more frail and, though no one dared to speak it aloud, the Rohirrim feared that the Wormtongue would be named Theoden’s heir. One month became two. No word was heard from either of your brothers, and your father’s heart broke, for surely they must have met with a terrible fate on their quest.

He was summoned once more to Meduseld, to appear before the King and his most trusted advisor to answer for the failure to bring back the Golden Bird. And again after you father had stammered his apologies and excuses, the Wormtongue beckoned you forward, spinning the golden feather between slender white fingers.

This time he spoke to you in his strange soft whisper. “Your father has one last chance to produce the Golden Bird. If he does not, we shall have to come to some arrangement to settle the debt.”

His icy gaze swept up and down your body, sending a shiver down your spine and with the light sparkling from the feather, his words seemed to echo in the back of your mind. He leaned in closer.

“You are a biddable girl, I look forward to your submission.” His tongue darted from between thin cracked lips. Though your mind screamed to be away from this creature, you found your feet locked to the floor and your voice lodged in your throat. The Wormtongue smiled, and stepped away, hiding the feather from view, and you found yourself able to move again.

“The Golden Bird may yet be found, my Lord,” you said as you took your father’s shaking arm. And as you departed from the Great Hall, the echo of the Wormtongue’s broken laughter followed you.

In the relative safety of the cottage, your father slumped once again at the table while you ministered to him.

“Your brothers are gone, and I am too old and too frail to seek the Golden Bird, and now I must hand you over to such a man! Oh what are we to do Y/N?”

You placed a cup of mead down in front of him and turned to the little window in the kitchen which looked out over all of Edoras and the plains beyond. You wrapped your arms around yourself to try and warm the chill in your heart. It was scant comfort but likely the only you would get. There was only one answer in your mind.

“I must follow my brothers and seek the Golden Bird myself.”

Your father sputtered a mouthful of mead. “But you cannot! It is too difficult and dangerous and you may never return. You cannot hope to succeed where your brothers have failed. If you go to the Wormtongue, you will be safe in Edoras and I will not be alone. He will be kind to you if you please him I am sure!”

“I would rather die at the hands of robbers or orcs than hand myself over to that man. I am just as brave as my brothers, and sharper to be sure. And I am quicker with my bow.”

“But we have no horses left! How will you travel? No no, you must stay here with me as a dutiful daughter would.”

“I will walk then, father!” you cried out in frustration, before dropping to your knees beside him. “I cannot stay here and wait idly for my fate to suffocate me.”

He sat silent and unmoving, staring into the hearth, and eventually you rose to your feet and left him. You worked swiftly to put together your pack, for you were set on your course with or without your father’s blessing. When it was done, you set about your household chores as usual, and retired to bed at your usual hour, though you exchanged scarcely a word with your father.

At first light you woke, and dressed in some of Wulfric’s old clothes, they were a little large but they hid your shape and it was better to travel as a youth than a lone woman. You braided your hair back from your face as you had done for your brothers many times before. In the kitchen, you packed some supplies for the road and scribbled a note for your father. You pulled on stout boots, wrapped yourself in your warmest cloak and hefted the pack onto your shoulders.

As you opened the door, your father cleared his throat behind you. You turned to him and he held out something in his hands, a hunting knife.

“I have failed as a father if I cannot protect you. Perhaps you can protect yourself with this.”

You took the hilt of the knife and secured it in your boot. It was a blessing of sorts and you acknowledged it with a nod.

“I will do my best to come back to you father. Fare thee well.”

“Fare thee well my clever girl.”

And with that you stepped out into the misty first light, not looking back at the little cottage as you wound your way down the path into Edoras, instead looking out at the ghostly plains and the shadows of mountains and forests in the far distance.

...

Tagging some people who might be interested: @musikat18 @yallneedtrek @bkwrm523 @bookcaseninja @queenmismatched @fearofdeathkeepsusalive @outside-the-government @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie @theodwyns

#flipthescriptfairytalechallenge #eomer x reader #eomer #lotr fanfiction #eomer reader insert #fairytale au

[goldstonegolem64]

Book1 Hope returns Chapter 6 Chasing the lion By Goldstonegolem64

The flight to earth was quiet. Jay sat in his seat feeling the pain in his chest. What ever this suit was made of it was much better then what he was wearing before. But still he killed someone that was a new experience he didn't like .He had dealt with pirates and raider he hurt them but never killed one. it was just seeing the aftermath of the shot just made him feel wrong. But he knew that by the end of today he would have to do it again to keep his family safe. So he Grabbed the small silver medallion the last gift of his mother to him before she pasted a way about fourteen years from around his neck and started talking to it.

Hey mom if your there I might be seeing you soon if this goes bad. I hope dad can forgive for being a pain in the ass growing up. I hope Alphonse can forgive me for always needing him to get me out of trouble all the time. I hope Donnie can forgive for stealing and crashing his car on my fifteenth birthday. I hope Hermann and Wendy can forgive me for getting them in trouble all the time so I could use the computer. I hope pepper can forgive her dumb ass uncle for not making to her sixth birth that he promised to be there for and I hope you can forgive me for getting you kill in that crash all those years ago. Jay said starting to crying

My pilot 

the voices scared him for a second then remember he was in the Valkyrie.

We will be there in twenty minutes Val said 

ok Jay said rubbing the tears from his eyes 

Hey I know you were having a moment but you felt the comms on Adams voice rang through the speakers.

Jays eyes wide. so you heard all of that then.

Yes I did and I promise you that I will personal get you to your nieces birthday when this is over also sorry about your mother, Adam said

thanks man that makes me feel a little better. so you got anyone back home waiting for you. Jay asked cracking a little smile.

No my parent disowned me when they found out I was gay and the only other person who cared about me this most like dead so no one is waiting for me back home. Adam said

that is rough my man jay said

sorry to intruded this conversion but look ahead . Val said 

Lance pov

Lance McClain was your average everyday pretty good look garrison cadet with not much going on in his life up intel now.one day here was failing a flight simulator the next he's save Shiro the missing kerberos mission from a weird lab in the middle of nowhere, then he find a giant blue lion in a cave now he was flying that lion while being chased by a alien ship how can this day get any weirder. yes yes It could as he was speeding past the moon he saw two ship flying toward him one of them look like a dragon and the other look like a cargo ship trying to ram him.

look out Keith yelled grabbing the control from lance sending them spinning to the right 

Jay pov 

Jay, Adam beau and Val all watch in amazement has the lion flew over them. Then in fear as the cruiser flew toward the causing them to go in separate directions to avoid being hit.

did you see that. Adam said 

how could I miss that lets follow them. Jay said 

the two chased after the cruiser. Starting to notice their was a clear gap being made between them and the cruiser but they kept on its tale. Adam pushing the Prometheus’s engines to their limits but for jay he was getting faster the long he flow to the point where he was right next to the bridge of the ship. Only falling back when they started firing on him. Then after the four ships  pass Jupiter the blue lion decide to fire a beam in to the cruiser cause a line of explosion to erupted across the side. then a massive blue portal  appeared out of no where. The lion proceed to go into it leaving the two of them to dealt with the cruiser that just started to turn its attention to them a began firing at the them. Adam took evasive maneuver not to get hit. while Beauregard fired the on bored cannon in to the engines of the cruisers leaving it dead in the sky. Jay fired bolts into the area where the blue lion had fired at. 

this seem to easy Adam said 

yes is dose but that might be because most of the ship was wrecked after the lions attack Val replied

that's trust jay said holding down the firing button on the control stick

as the two ships keep peppering the cruiser its main cannon started to charge as while as some smaller ships were leaving the half dead ship and the remain engines roared to lift   .

what's going on Jay asked 

The cannon is about to fire and the ship is trying to get in to the wormhole. Val said  

We have to stop that because if that thing fire inside the wormhole who knows what will happen to anything in there when it fires. Adam forces you fire on the cannon Jay said

Alright Adam said flying closer to the cannon  

Beauregard kept on firing roll after roll in to the cannon

Jay slammed the Valkyrie in to the cannon using the wings and claws to ripping to the ship and fire in to the tears he was making 

But the cannon kept on charging and the ship kept on moving forward

nothing is working it just keeps moving Adam said angerly.

The cannon fired into the portal but before it went in. Time slowed to a stop as Jay felt a pain start to shot through his body. 

What's happening jay asked The pain growing more and more intense in this state as well as a red hew started to appear in the corners of his eyes has anger started.

I have activated my strongest ability sorry about the pain I only activated it do to the situation next time I will ask next Val said 

Flying right in to the path of the blast the two brace themselves for the impact then time started to move again .Adam And Beauregard saw a bright light as the cannon fired. the two looked to see what happened. what they saw was the Valkyrie’s wing glowing a bright red Then the wings paired showing the Valkyrie mouth wide up and a beam fire the moment it left the mouth the bean expanded to twice is size hit straight into the bridge and exited though the engines. 

Jay sat in his seat his body felt like he was struck by lighting burned and stabbed all at once and the pain from the hammer strike came back even worst then before. What just happed Val why am I in so much pain. Said asked though shallow breaths 

I stopped time for ten second and absorbed  the blast and fired it back at them. the pain is from the amount quintessence that I pushed though your body to activated it. but I used the remaining last of my bond with my last pilot to do that and if we did that again you will die  if are bond isn't stronger. Val said with concern in her voice  

We will not be doing that again anytime soon so lets just go through this wormhole and find out what's on the other side. you ready guy to go Jay said a little woes from the event that just accorded.

Yes lets go but are you ok jay. You seem a little out of it Adam asked 

I'm fine lets go. jays replied  

entering the wormhole Jay couldn't remember the ride though the wormhole at all. all he could remembered was leaving it to see a beautiful new world and Adam saying jay pull up your going to crash in to that  building. doing as he was told. He pulled up missing the building by going straight up then he slumped forward in to the controls do to falling in and outs of consciousness causing him to fly straight down in to a forest a few kilometer away from the building then he finally black out.     

#voltron #cannon divergence #au #oc #adashi #kidgance #lotura #langst #first fanfic #klance #plance #kidge #hunay #hunk garrett #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #pidge gunderson #keith kogane #allura #coran

[lolainblue]

Jane’s Journal -- Day 127

A/N :  This is the final Journal entry. The second book in the series will be starting next. 

T/W: Angst. Mentions of past drug use and mental health issues

December 24, 2003   Day 127

   I wish I could say that I took Aunt Carys's advice to heart, lept up and called Roger, but a large feature of that Hughes tenacity lies in a sort of stubbornness and bloody-mindedness that makes it hard to change tracks. I started wallowing a little less as I stepped outside myself and saw the bigger picture, but the riff between Roger and myself had grown an into an ocean and I wasn't sure how to bridge it anymore. Somewhere along the line, my anger with him had morphed into shame at the way I had behaved.  I missed him with everything that was in me but I was too much of a coward to pick up the phone.

   His show would be wrapping up with a Christmas Eve matinee and then, according to Mom, he was going to catch an evening flight home so he could be here for Christmas. He had asked her repeatedly if I would be in attendance. I wouldn't let her say. I wouldn't give her a definitive answer. She had finally lost her temper with me and pointed out that just because I was the one that brought Roger into our family it didn't give me the right to single-handedly toss him out. He'd already had enough of that in his life. It was time for me to grow up and stop behaving as if this were some middle school spat. Roger was family. We had all agreed on that a long time ago, and in our family, we didn't throw people away when they upset us.

   Properly cowed, I came up with a plan and booked a flight to New York. I figured I need to settle things at the apartment at the very least and I thought maybe Roger and I could share the flight back and have a long overdue talk. When I showed up at the apartment on the 23rd however, there was no sign of Roger at our place, and judging by the refrigerator contents he hadn't been staying there recently. My plan had hit a snag.

   I was left alone to drift aimlessly through the now alien space. When I walked into my bedroom my heart nearly stopped. I realized the last time I had set foot in the place was before flying out to see Shannon back in August. The room was still a mess from packing, with rejected clothing piled on the bed. I spotted his old Def Leppard t-shirt that I had often slept in when he was gone, and several 30 Seconds to Mars t-shirts I had considered taking with me but ultimately left behind. My stomach turned as I picked the first one up, and I had brought it to my nose to see if there was a trace of his scent left behind before I even realized what I was doing. Angry with myself, I tossed it onto the center of the bed before grabbing the wastebasket from under my desk. I started throwing in everything that reminded me of Shannon or Jared, walking through the house to gather CD's and postcards, notes, pictures, stuffed animals from the midway, even the boots I had bought to wear to the first concert of theirs I had gone to. I was surprised how much of it there was. I tossed the bag into the hall closet in case Roger wanted any of it and went back to packing up my room.

   I spent that night in the apartment by myself. I had hoped Roger might come home despite indications that he wasn't living there anymore but he never appeared. I spent the next morning finishing my packing, my belongings all sorted into neatly labeled boxes in the center of my bedroom that I could easily have a service come and pick up later. Then I ordered lunch, showered and dressed for the theater.

   The performance was sold out so I was reduced to taking my chances with whatever scalpers would be on hand. I knew it was risky, but “Fortuna favet fatius.', fortune favors fools and soon I found myself with a rather choice seat, nervously thumbing the glossy program and waiting for the show to start.

   Our junior year the drama department had put on an adaptation of Anne of Green Gables. Roger had done amazingly well at the audition and had landed the part of Gilbert Blythe. I was overjoyed. Anne of Green Gables was one of my favorite books and I was so proud of Roger. He'd done a few shows before and had been okay, and he'd worked very hard rehearsing for the part but when it came time for the actual performance he had bombed. It wasn't just simple stage fright, he had suddenly become that weird kid in the fourth-grade play that said all his lines in a strange falsetto while he grinned at the audience and did incongruous things with his hands. He refused to go on after the first night and the understudy had to finish the run. He had been heartbroken. He'd already made big plans to become a famous actor, it was part of our “Roger and Janey Take Over the World” scheme, and having his hopes dashed just crushed him. It had taken months of Daphne nagging him to get him to start taking acting classes. I wasn't sure how we had gotten from there to here, him starring as Bob Cratchett in NYC in a not exactly Broadway but not exactly a dive theater either production of A Christmas Carol. I hoped that we would be able to iron things out so he could share that journey with me.

   To say I was terrified when he made that first appearance on stage would be putting it mildly. But to be honest, if I hadn't known it was Roger in the role I might have not even realized. He had transformed himself completely, And where the hell had that British accent come from? I know being American I probably wasn't the best judge but he sounded spot on to my ears. I was completely blown away by his performance, and judging by the people sitting around me, so was the rest of the audience. I was bursting with pride by the time the curtain fell.

   I am going to tell you right now that whoever says beauty is overrated is lying to you. I have lived on both sides of that road. Plain Jane would have been ushered back out into the street with the rest of the crowd. I knew I was going to need Hot Jane today so I had come prepared, dressed to the teeth, carefully coiffed and wearing what felt like half the Barney's cosmetic counter on my face. It took a total of eight minutes to charm my way backstage to the dressing rooms.

   Roger had just sat down to start removing his makeup and there was a girl seated on the table in front of him, giggling and tossing her hair while she crossed and uncrossed her obscenely long legs. Roger looked about as interested as a lion who'd been offered a broccoli sandwich. I giggled at the sight and Roger dropped the sponge he had been holding before rapidly turning my way.

   “Janey?”

   “Hey, Rog.” My mouth was suddenly dry but my eyes weren't. It felt like we were seeing each other after being separated by war, tired and battered bystanders who had found each other again at a refugee camp. I had worried that he would be angry with me, that I had been so steadfastly cold with him that he would never be more than an acquaintance again. Instead, he lept to his feet, nearly knocking his hapless admirer off her perch and rushed toward me, sweeping me up in his arms and swinging me around so enthusiastically that one of my wildly impractical heels went flying off my foot. I remembered again he was too good for me.

   “I'm so sorry, Roger,” I tried to explain. “I should have come to you and tried to work things out months ago....”

   “Hush,” he told me as he sat me back down and scrambled after the shoe I had lost. “I was terrible to you when you needed me. You don't have anything to apologize for.”

   “But I do....” I protested.

   “Let me get cleaned up and changed and then we can argue about it all you want,” he said. The girl who had been flirting with him gave me a haughty look and then flounced off, probably wrongly assuming I was her competition. “Oh shit, I've got a flight back home tonight! Aren't you going home for Christmas?”

   I nodded. “Mom gave me your flight info. I came into town to see you last night but you weren't home. I packed up my things at the apartment but I'm on the flight home with you.”

   Roger frowned and sat down in his chair again with a heavy thud. “I don't understand. What did you pack? Why?”

   “I'm going to Tanzania with a volunteer group. I don't know when I'll be back in the States. It could be months or it literally be years. I don't need anything that's there, and I figure if you wanted to sell the place or move if everything was already packed up all you'd have to do is call a service to come collect it. I can just pay for a storage until I suss out what to do next.”

   “Janey...” The smile that been on Roger's face when he embraced me was gone and I felt terrible. “I thought that...” He swallowed hard and picked up the makeup removal pad again and started dabbing harshly at his face. “So you are still mad, at me.”

   “No.”

   “Then why are you leaving me again?”

   “I'm not leaving you, Roger. I'm trying to fix myself.”

   “You're not broken.”

   “Actually, yeah, I really am. But I'm working on it.”

   He didn't say anything else as he continued washing away the stage makeup. When he had finished he looked back at me and I swear his face looked years older, deeply tired in a way I had never seen on him before. I wondered what had happened to him during the last 127 days. A bad feeling began to take root in my gut.

   “You were brilliant out there, Roger. I'm so proud of you,” I offered.

   He nodded. “Can we go home now?”

   “Sure,” I said, spotting his coat hanging on the wall and handing it to him. “Anything you want.”

   *************************************

   Roger already had an overnight bag ready for his trip to the airport but I needed to swing back by our place so we hopped on the C-Line for a last trip home together. He was quiet the entire way, and although I tried to fill the awkward silence with tales of my travels, Roger never engaged, just quietly nodded and folded his hands over and over themselves. I didn't want to cause a scene in public so I let it go and just kept on with the nervous chatter but I was so relieved to finally reach our stop I practically jumped off the train and power walked until we were inside our building and through the front door.

   “When is the last time you were even home?” I asked him as we shed our coats in the foyer.

   “A couple of days ago, actually. We had a cast thing last night. That's why I wasn't here,” he explained.

   “Oh.” I had kind of hoped he'd been staying with someone else maybe, or just leading too fabulous a life to be bothered to come back to an empty apartment. I looked at the keychain in my hands, the door key still separated from the rest. “Do you want me to leave my key?” I asked. “It doesn't seem right for me to just come and go when I'm not really living here anymore.”

   “I thought you were back. When you showed up at the theater, here, in New York and all... well I just thought you were back.”

   I shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, not meeting his eyes. “I already committed to this volunteer thing, Roger. And I think it's going to be good for me. I'm getting back out in the world again, for real, not just a spoiled little party girl.”

   “You aren't a spoiled little party girl, Jane.” Roger's voice was quiet and uneven and I didn't know where this was going but I could feel my own lips starting to tremble.

   “I was so spoiled and helpless and blind....” I managed to mutter before he cut me off.

   “It wasn't your fault Jane. You don't have to do penance.”

   “I knew better. Or at least I should have. You told me how Shannon was, I saw it myself before I even let him back in...”

   “I don't mean Shannon.” Roger avoiding looking at me when he said it, but the lump in my throat was there just the same.

   “Roger. Please don't....”

   “Someone has to say it, Jane.”

   “No, they don't. It's not like I don't know.”

   “I think it is. Do you want to know what I've done for the last five months? I've worked and seen a therapist. Because as broken as you think you are I'm a hundred times worse.” Roger sat down in the middle of the floor, crossing his long legs one over the other. “I could never help him, Jane. I couldn't reach him, I couldn't stop him, and couldn't stop  you or me...”

   I sat down on the floor across from Roger, pulling his hands into my lap. “Roger, it wasn't like that.”

   “I was so fucking scared, Jane. Jared said you had seemed so hurt, you were completely lost, and you weren't talking to anyone...”

   I hadn't thought of things that way. I really hadn't thought much of anything through at that point, I was a whirlwind of my own grief and anger. “I'm sorry, Roger. I would never leave you like that. I would never....” A chill like ice water in my veins passed over me. “Roger, what do you mean you couldn't stop you?”

   “Not like that,” he said a little too quickly, pulling his hands back from me. “I just … dammit, Jane. Everyone keeps leaving, like I'm nothing. Jefferson didn't even... “ Roger's breathing had become shallow and I could see the distress in his eyes. “The only woman I've ever dated longer than a week dumped me while pretty much saying she could do better. My mother died and my entire family apparently voted to keep me away from the funeral. I pushed my best friend away. I pushed all my friends away, all the good ones that is. The only ones that would even put up with my shit...”

   Roger let himself fall forward, his head nestling in my lap. I wrapped my arms around him as best I could. “I'm so sorry, Roger. I knew you were in trouble. I tried to help...”

   “I know,” he sniffled. “I was so angry with you for running off with Shannon but I never told you how bad things were for me. I tried to numb it. It didn't help.”

   Boy that was one area I did know about. “No, it never does,” I observed.

   “Promise you won't  hate me, Jane.”

   “What? I would never hate you, Roger. I think I've been as angry with you as I ever have the capacity to be. Like I'm done now. I've used it all up, forever, for the rest of our lives. There is nothing that could make me hate you.”

   Roger began to sob and I started to cry with him. If I had thought, even for a second, that things were this bad with him I'd have chucked my whole temper tantrum walkabout right then and there and gone to him. I felt terrible. And I didn't even begin to know how to make it up to him.

   “Do you remember that night that Shannon was here, and I was so grouchy, and I disappeared all night?”

   “Jesus, how could I fucking forget, Rog. You were a mess when you came home. Like you'd been dragged through every gutter in Manhattan.” Roger may have been scared when I had my meltdown but he had scared the daylights out of me weeks before that.

   “I did something...” he sniffled wetly and I leaned back just enough to reach the box of tissues on the console table behind us.

   “Have you talked to your therapist about this?” I asked him as handed him the tissue.

   Roger blew his nose and nodded. “I should have talked to you though. That day. Before I did it. But I got it in my head that you didn't count, that you were just stuck with me somehow....” he trailed off again. “I was so fucking stupid, Janey, and I'm sorry, and if I could take it back....”

   I wrapped myself around him, the way I had in the shower that afternoon, and held him as tightly as I could get my arms to latch onto him. “it's okay. Whatever happened, it's over now.”

   Roger stopped crying and he gripped my arm tightly. When he spoke again his voice was even softer than before, and flat, as if he were trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and what he was telling me. “I sold myself that night. For drugs," he confessed.

   “What?” I heard the words but I couldn't get them to make any kind of sense. “Why would you do something like that? You didn't need the money, I know you didn't. And I didn't think you were using that much....”

   “it wasn't for the drugs or the money,” Roger confessed weakly. “I just wanted to have value. I wanted to be worth something. Turns out I'm worth quite a bit in ketamine and coke.”

   “Oh Jesus," was the only thing I could manage to choke out.

   “Yeah, he and I aren't on speaking terms,” Roger joked weakly.

   I thought back again to that day, to stripping off Roger's stained and soiled clothing, the marks on his skin, and I wanted to throw up. I could actually feel my stomach turning and I looked around for something to vomit into. I told myself I couldn't though. I couldn't let Roger think that I found him sickening. I didn't want him to take it as a rejection. I gulped in air and closed my eyes and tried to get my heart under control. How the fuck had we come to this? “Roger you need to see someone.” I protested.

   “I am,” he reminded me.

   “Well, I don't think it's doing you much good. Look at you.”

   “Jane, this happened back in July. I am able to tell you about it now because I've been seeing someone. I have a long way to go but I”m working on getting better too. I was just hoping we could do it together.”

   I  grabbed him even more tightly, even though it was too late to protect him now. Of course, we could do it together. Nothing else mattered to me anymore except keeping Roger safe. “Okay, okay, sure.” I couldn't stop myself from sobbing and Roger began rocking us both back and forth. “I'll do anything it takes. Just please don't... please don't....”

   “Same for you,” he sobbed back at me.

   “I love you, Roger. I don't need anyone else.” I told him. “I won't ever leave you again.”

   “I love you too, Janey. And you will. But it will be on our terms next time and we'll be ready.”

   We cried on that floor together for the better part of an hour before we had to clean ourselves up and head to the airport. By the time we got back to my parent's house we had pasted our smiles back in place and for the all the world we looked just like we always had, two best friends, out to take on the world together. But we had torn the lid off and looked inside and we had seen how deep the cracks in our souls went. I didn't know how we were going to do it, but we were determined not lose each other to the darkness inside them. Nothing was going to drive us apart again.

@thepromiseofanend  @msroxyblog@nikkitasevoli@maliciousalishious@llfd1977 @mustlove6277@fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart @snewsome756@guccilowell

#TB: Jane's Journal #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction

[zephfair]

Get to Know the Author

I was tagged by @desperatlytryingtowriteabook so this is about my fanfic (or lack thereof)

1. Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I have 10+ fics either mostly done or heavily outlined and I just don’t want to post them. I’m not super active in any fandom anymore so I know none of the fics are very good and I just don’t care enough to put them out there. They’re all fluff or humor or smut.

2. What work of yours, if any, are you embarrassed about existing?

Eh, I’m not embarrassed about any fic I’ve written because they all meant something to me at the time, even the weird one with alien sex.

3. What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favourite scenes first? Something else?

Mostly chronological, I guess. When I get an idea, I just start writing as fast as I can if the outline is developing in my head. I want to get down all the ideas I have, whether or not only a fourth of them make the final cut. That helps with the chronology and then all the little dialogue snippets I come up with as I go along. Once that’s done, it’s easier to go back to the beginning and fill it all in.

4. Favourite character you’ve written?

I love writing Riario from Da Vinci’s Demons and Gustav from Tokio Hotel.

5. Character you were most surprised to end up writing?

Gustav, definitely. And Grimmjow from Bleach.

6. Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now?

Sometimes I get a hankering to go back and edit stuff to make it tighter but I’m too lazy. The only fic I’ve ever done that to is Thick as Thieves because it got weirdly popular for about a minute and every time I looked over it I found things I wanted to fix, particularly over-explaining and over-describing things. So I gave it a trim and hope that it reads a little better now.

7. When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

The only people who know I write fanfic are online friends and I’ve had generally positive reactions from them. There was only one fandom I can think of that really looked down its nose at fanfic but I told them right off I was writing so they could judge me all they wanted.

8. Favourite genre to write?

Comedy, fluff and action. I break out in hives when I read or think about angst. And I always argue that there is a big difference between drama and angst. Drama is necessary in anything that isn’t a total fluff or slapstick comedy ficlet, but drama is good. I just can’t handle angst where everything bad happens and then more bad happens and then there is an unhappy ending.

9. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

I’ve been reading a lot thanks to Amazon Kindle’s freebie program thing and oh boy, does it make me appreciate good fanfic even more! Also it really helps to re-watch or re-read the source material for the fandom I want to write in. That usually brings up some more ideas for fix-it fic or adding on a scene here and there. Or suddenly realizing all the UST there was between two characters that I didn’t see a decade ago.

10. Write in silence or with background music? Alone or with others?

I have to have background noise, preferably the TV set to sports or sitcom reruns, something I won’t be paying attention to. I live alone so there’s that, but if I’m somewhere with a long wait, I’ve been known to write smut at the hairdressers and fluff fic at the garage waiting for my oil change.

11. What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I think my fanfic has actually gotten worse since I started posting on AO3. I feel like I hit a plateau during Teen Wolf days and then actually went downhill with characterizations and writing style. I lost the showing part of the stories and started getting lazy and relying on the telling.

12. Your weaknesses as an author?

Plots, omg, what are Plots???? I just don’t have the energy, time or creativity to come up with and execute any multi-chapter, intricately plotted fanfics. I admire and kiss the feet of fanfic authors who do. I’m madly jealous of you guys! Also lately the telling rather than showing thing, as I said.

13. Your strengths as an author?

I don’t have any. I guess I’m reasonably good at clean copy—spelling, grammar, punctuation.

14. Do you make playlists for your work?

Nah, I don’t listen to music while I write. But I do have a list of songs that reminded me of the DVD bandfic whose title I honestly can’t remember at the moment...it’s the longest title I ever made but it cracked me up at the time. Every time I hear one of those songs, I immediately think of those guys. I never shared it because it’s a weird mix of 80s and 90s hair bands, some 2010s pop and a few contemporary Christian songs whose singer was my voice model for Riario.

15. Why did you start writing?

I’ve been writing pretty much as long as I can remember, but the first time I shared it was in seventh grade when my two best friends and I started writing a book in a spiralbound notebook we passed back and forth. Now we would call it a self-insert fanfic, but we didn’t know anything except we were having a great time. Then they both left our school and I fell out of touch with them for the most part. I kept writing because I could make the world I wanted on the page so I could re-read it.

16. Are there characters that haunt you?

Canon characters that haunt me are Riario because he has layers hidden under his layers wrapped around his layers and canon did him so wrong. I still feel a lot of sympathy for Derek from Teen Wolf and want him to have a happy ending. Now I’m starting to feel a lot more feelings about Bleach characters.

17. If you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Write what you love. Read all the things, everything, every genre. Which is weird because I’ve done both of those things and … I haven’t turned out all that great. So I guess it would be to practice more, write all the time and don’t let yourself get lazy and complain you have no energy to write, you lazy fuck.

18. Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they?

I think Elizabeth Peters influenced my writing style in the past 18 years since I discovered her. Although I don’t write fanfic in the first-person, she is a master of the unreliable narrator as well as creating characters who are lively and complicated and burst off the page (which I don’t do). But her use of language and her style is wonderful, and I see glimpses of that sometimes but not often enough. Her humor is the one thing I strive for too. Also Terry Pratchett for his use of humor and satire and his brilliant way of turning everyday, common things on their head. I once wrote a fairy tale kind of fic for a prompt fest and the prompter compared it to Discworld, and I walked around with my chest puffed out for days.

19. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, etc?

Ha, I don’t write complicated things. But my outline process serves me pretty well when I do attempt longer fic.

20. Do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

I prefer long sit-down sessions. Once I get in the groove, things seem to roll better. If I have to keep getting up or getting distracted, it sucks.

21. What do you think when you read over your older work?

“Hahaha, I can’t believe you answered a kinkmeme prompt where the two main characters were lions in a zoo and they humped.”

22. Are there subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Angst. I won’t write rape or sexual violence. No non-con. No major character death. I know there are other things but I don’t run into them because I only stick to the stuff I like.

23. Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

All the time. I’ve pulled from my professional life more than once. I wrote one fic based on a very bizarre week that happened to me and everyone thought it was very wacky and hilarious. It wasn’t at the time and I did change the ending to give it a happy resolution, but I can look back now and merely grimace. I guess it was pretty funny.

24. Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

No, I’m the opposite. If I write an AU fic, I try to set it in a world or scene that I’m already familiar with because I’m lazy. I did do some Renaissance research when I was writing for Da Vinci’s Demons.

25. Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of.

From Treasure in Clay Vessels which is one of my favorite things, overall, that I’ve ever written:

Even though he'd seen the smaller sample, Girolamo was amazed all over again at the sight. It was awe-inspiring—a mechanical bird flying without wires. But even more astounding was the talent and sheer audacity of a man imagining that he could make mere metal fly as well as the Creator made birds take to wing.

It was blasphemy. It was surely sin.

It was incredible.

#thank you for the tag! <3 #my fic #tagged #navel-gazing

[haru-desune]

Tinkers, Riddles, and Pride

 Heyyyy @godkidcharlie guess who’s your KKC holiday exchange secret santa! So now for something interesting starring Kvothe and Auri (If you’d rather read it on AO3 it’s here)

The sky above the University was unusually clear that night, when Kvothe met Auri in the secret courtyard. The air was still and clung to him in a way that made him itch to try and call the wind, to see if he could breathe some life into the quiet night. They had exchanged gifts as usual; Kvothe had presented her with a stone that dreamt of being a bird, a wooden bowl that had served a beggar-prince, and a bottle filled with the song of starlight, and had in turn received the thorn from a lion’s paw, a firebird’s tail feather, and a story for another time. They sat on the roof, having shared their starlight, Kvothe’s fingers plucking absently at his lute, when Auri shifted in her seat. Kvothe stopped his music, the sudden silence jarring, as he turned to look at her.

“A story. And a promise. One for you and one for me.” she said, and Kvothe tilted his head, puzzled.

“You want me to tell you a story?”

She shook her head in frustration, her silky hair falling in front of her face like a curtain. “The story is for you.”

He stared at her a moment, before grinning and carefully putting away his lute. He turned his body so that he was facing her properly, and adjusted his posture, putting on his best ‘I’m a good student’ face. Auri giggled as she mimicked his posture as best she could, sitting cross-legged on the cold courtyard floor.

“In a time not long ago and a town not much different from this there lived a boy with a charming smile and clever eyes.” She began, her voice hanging sweet and clear in the still, moonlit air.

“Did this boy have a name by any chance?”Kvothe asked slyly. Auri gave him a stern look. He smiled sheepishly in return, and she continued on with the story.

“In a time not long ago and a town not much different from this there lived a boy with a charming smile and clever eyes. He wasn’t the strongest or handsomest boy, but wit he had in abundance. To the others in his town, there was no problem he couldn’t solve, no question he couldn’t answer. They called him Tricks, for every word was imbued in double meaning, and every sentence he uttered twisted and turned and ran into itself like the roads of a great city.”

Here Auri paused, her eyes taking on a peculiar shine. Kvothe leaned forward, recognizing that the story was reaching an important point.

“Tales of Tricks’ intellect travelled, as these things do, and reached the towns far from his own little home. One morning he awoke to knock at his door, and at his front steps stood a Tinker.

‘I had heard tales of a young man of remarkable acumen in this town.’ The Tinker spoke with a voice like sun-baked, dusty roads.

Tricks merely smiled and allowed him to enter, offering him water and a place to rest.

‘Young sir if you would indulge an old man.’ Said the Tinker ‘I would offer you a test of riddles. Win and you may ask and prize from me.’

Intrigued, Tricks agreed.

‘For the first question,’ the Tinker rasped ‘I am at once welcomed and feared, docile and wild, enticing and untouchable. Meek by day and vibrant at night, what am I?’

‘A simple puzzle, Tinker, for the answer is fire, a lady of flame which warms the hearth and burns the forest, which dances and splutters even while caged, which gathers men yet scorns their touch. This is of what you speak.’

The Tinker nodded impressed. ‘The second question: Though I emerge from behind my curtain in pieces and parts, I am neither timid nor broken, the ruler in exile of a kingdom no man could truly understand. What am I?’

Tricks laughed in response ‘Another simple answer, for you speak of the moon, who rules the night we have yet to conquer, who divides her time between the mortal and the fae.’

‘A clever young man, certainly’ the Tinker acquiesced ‘but I have one final question, for all things must come in three parts. So sweet I am, to leave a bitter taste, for those who know me know hunger, sorrow, and pain, yet smile through it all, longing for more. Who am I?’

‘My dear Tinker, I fear you are toying with me,’ replied Tricks in earnest ‘No doubt you speak of love, bittersweet and addictive as denner resin yet, while he knows it, no man can truly suffer.’

The tinker smiled, pleased with this response. ‘The tales of your wit are no exaggeration’ He laid out his wares in an offering ‘as promised, you may ask of me any prize.’

Tricks didn’t spare a glance for the Tinker’s wares, instead looking the man in the eye. ‘I ask only for what is gracefully offered and rarely granted.’

‘You truly are a clever one’ laughed the Tinker ‘Very well, I shall grant you one wish.’

The boy smiled like a fox and said ‘I wish that all my wishes would be granted.’

‘A dangerous request young man, there is such a thing as being too clever. Ask for anything else.’

Tricks merely laughed, and the Tinker’s expression soured. ‘Very well, so you ask, so it shall be done.’

Wish granted, the Tinker went on his way, and Tricks settled into a life of luxury. Money was no object, for he merely had to wish for more. Food and trinkets went the same way. If he wished to fly, he would have sprouted wings.

Years went by, and Tricks wished for something more from his life of riches. There was an emptiness that he simply couldn’t fill no matter what he wished for. Then one day, while wandering through town he saw a young man and his sweetheart whispering and giggling as they walked in the square, and he knew what he needed to fill his void.

Now anyone else would have wished for a sweetheart of their own, but Tricks’ mind worked like a spiral, the thought never even occurred to him. He wished that he was the young man in the square, and almost immediately found himself whispering sweet nothings in the young woman’s ear, making her turn a pretty red. Thrilled at his own cleverness, he wished for a bouquet of flowers to present his new lady love, but try as he might, the flowers would not appear. He saw from the corner of his somebody, his old body, turn and walk away, and realised in that instant his mistake.”

Auri finished her story, looking at Kvothe as though she was waiting for something.

“Tinkers can’t grant wishes.” was all he said after a short pause, and felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach at the look of disappointment mixed with exasperation that crossed her face.

“You have to make me a promise.” She said, her voice more agitated than it had been all night. “Promise me that you won’t be as clever as you think you are.”

Kvothe blinked at her, stung a little by the statement. The he took in the worried furrow of her brow and his gaze softened. “I’ll try.”

Auri’s shoulders relaxed, and she smiled. He returned the expression, picked up his lute and began to play a tune of Tinkers and riddles and pride.

#godkidcharlie #KKC holiday exchange 2017 #KKC #kingkiller chronicle #fanfiction #it's my first kkc fic so I hope I got the tone right #Happy Holidays!

[mikeyhatesit113]

forever and never: Chapter 1

I write a line.

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

Blank page.

I try another line.

Nope.

Backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace.

I rub my forehead, hoping it will come to me.

And then it does.

You’re reading it right now.

Because, the truth is, I have no idea how to start this story.

Years later, even after everything is said and done...ancient history!...still, it’s hard to know where to begin.

Does it begin the day I met her?

Or does it begin with the months leading up to that very moment where our paths crossed, danced, and performed a wicked waltz that would forever stomp its footprints into the darkest corners of my conscience?

Dramatic. I guess so. But what else would I call this?

I’m not proud of what you’re about to read. You’re going to read things that I regret till this very day. True enough, I have not forgiven myself for many of these events.

Don’t know if I ever will.

But alas, I feel it’s a story that needs to be told. Someone out there could benefit from this cautionary tale that came at a hefty price. The cost? Years of my youth.

Years I’ll never get back, but does that mean the time was wasted?

With a story and a message like this, I would think not.

Let’s begin.

--------------------

Chapter 1

---------------------

It was a raw, cold January day in 2007. Snow covered the ground and the wind whipped mercilessly, but my trusty ‘94 Cavalier trudged on through the slushy roads. I had somewhere important to be.

My morale at Blockbuster Video had reached an all-time low, thanks to an overweight, balding new store manager named Brady. For all of his love for Chinese food that he sat in the back room and ate, he had no care for movies whatsoever. This offended the 19 year old me, who might have had his dream job working at a video store.

Blockbuster Video. Make it a Blockbuster night!

But since Brady’s arrival just two months prior, the atmosphere in the store had changed drastically.

I no longer liked coming to work. For whatever reason, he didn’t like me. And the feeling was more than mutual.

Can’t we just talk about our favorite parts of Lion King and get along?

I’m not the type of person to stay in a place where I’m unhappy, and true to that note, I was looking for employment elsewhere.

I had tried retail, but I didn’t like it.

I even had a brief stint in physical manufacturing. No bueno.

So on this blustery January day, I was pursuing a brand new field altogether.

Child Care.

I had found out about a small center through my sister, who had previously worked there. And though she quit only after a few days, she swore that it was a nice place to work.

I was 19. I didn’t have college plans, and I had virtually no skills. But, I did have a love for kids. I was often the guy at parties who had 5 toddlers hanging all over him, though they did not know me an hour prior.

The parents didn’t seem to mind. I was the perfect babysitter/jungle gym extraordinaire.

And why not? Maybe daycare would become the perfect launch pad to a luxurious career in wiping snotty noses and changing diapers.

I pulled into the parking lot outside the daycare. It was a modest center. It was the bottom level of a two-story building. A complete stranger lived in the upstairs apartment.

I put on my best professional smile and got out of my car into the cold air. I walked up the icy wooden ramp that led to the door and knocked.

A young lady answered, and I informed her that I was there for an interview.

She led me inside and I sat down in a miniature chair as I waited. On the other side of the room, a rather grumpy looking woman was conducting a job interview with another woman.

Sheila was the interviewer’s name, and she was the owner of the center.

“What would you do if you saw one child bite another child?” asked Sheila.

“Well, first I’d check to make sure it didn’t draw blood!” laughed the interviewee.

Sheila didn’t even crack a smile. In fact, she frowned and checked something off on her paper.

The lady, picking up on Sheila’s stern manner, stopped laughing abruptly and gave a quick answer on administering first-aid.

The interview was lost. And I knew it.

Minutes later, Sheila ushered the lady out of the door. The door closed as Sheila turned to face me. “Mike?” she asked. “That’s me,” I replied. We shook hands and our own interview commenced.

It’s funny what time does to one’s memory. I can’t remember what questions she asked me. I’m sure she asked me the question about biting, but everything else is a blur. I just remember that I answered every question light-heartedly and professionally.

The interview was won, and I knew it.

Sheila finished her questions and asked me to wait patiently while she went and grabbed the daycare director for further consultation. I smiled as she excused herself.

The door closed behind her, and I was alone. Looking back, that moment is more surreal than I ever could have guessed.

They would be my final moments of never knowing her. The last moments of never laying eyes on her. Of not knowing who she was, or that she even existed.

When that door opened again, it would be a departure from one reality, and a crash landing into a complete other world.

And sure enough, that door did reopen. Fate would have it no other way.

The events, and future cast of characters, were waiting.

Sheila walked through the doorway, this time followed by another woman dressed in a smock.

I could already tell that she had a youthful appeal surrounding her composure. Her face, enclosed by curtains of long brown hair, broke into a wide grin as she held out her hand.

“Hi, Michael. I’m Janie, the director of the daycare.”

I shook her hand and introduced myself. For the next 5 minutes, the three of us made small talk. Janie seemed really excited for the prospect of having a male teacher in the daycare, as there aren’t too many in the childcare field altogether.

For the final test, they wanted me to come back for a trial run with the school age children. As much as they liked me, they had to make sure I was somewhat competent with children.

Days later, I returned, but this time I was armed with a failproof plan.

A pillowcase full of Halloween candy.

And sure enough, between jokes and laughs, I played simple games with the kids and rewarded them with lollipops. They loved me instantly.

The daycare center hired me officially that day, and I was all set to give Blockbuster Video my 2-week notice. Just days later, Brady refused to work with me scheduling-wise, as I would be starting at the daycare before officially leaving Blockbuster. Plus, he abruptly fired my shift manager.

So I walked out. Hopefully him and General Tso are happy together.

I know he’s not at Blockbuster anymore. Just a hunch, I guess.

I began working at the daycare center, and I immediately loved my job.

The kids were awesome, and most of the staff were great. We’d have daycare parties and gather at Janie’s house that she shared with her husband and 2 little boys.

These daycare parties were very enlightening experiences, as I did not know “daycare teachers” could party like they did. It was a hell of a good time.

In fact, 2007 would be one of my favorite years ever. I had a job I enjoyed, my friends and I had never been closer, and I was able to perform standup comedy on the side at local clubs.

My buddies and I took a trip down to the beach in July, and I met a woman named Dayna. She was from Kentucky, and we made plans for me to fly down there and visit her at a later time.

At this point, Janie and I had become great friends at the daycare. Her personality was infectious in it’s youthful appeal. Even though she was 8 years older than me, plus being a wife and mom, she had no problem blending in with people my age.

We’d go on lunch breaks together and I even went with her to watch her get her nose pierced, but I swear to God, it was totally innocent during that Summer.

I honestly just never looked at Janie as more than a friend, because to my knowledge, she was happily married and heavily involved with her children. I admired her for that.

Looking back, I didn’t find it odd that Janie had taken a keen interest in my communication with Dayna from the beach. But as I’m also in the future now with you, I can acknowledge her daily inquiry about how things were developing was out of the ordinary.

But she was a good friend, so I shrugged it off.

In October of 2007, I arranged a trip to fly down to Kentucky to visit Dayna and stay with her a few days at her apartment.

It was the first time I had ever flown (not counting when I was a baby), and it was quite the trip to make all by myself.

I arrived in Kentucky on Thursday morning, and Dayna greeted me at the gate.

The few days I spent down there weren’t anything extraordinary, but I did receive a curious text during my trip.

Janie texted me on Saturday morning. “Hey, I hope you’re having good time.”

It was yet another instance that I shrugged off, but sure enough, Janie wanted to know all the details when I returned the following Monday morning.

I filled her in, including the part where things fell apart with Dayna when I got back home.

Long distance just doesn’t cut it sometimes.

Janie was interested nonetheless, and she insisted that Dayna was indeed “crazy” and I didn’t need that in my life.

October closed out as our friendship continued.

When the clock struck midnight on Halloween Night, I did not realize that I had exited another reality, and entered another realm.

October 31st, 2007 would be the last day of my youth as I knew it. I was 19 years old, and I was about to become something else entirely.

On the night of November 1st, 2007, my cell phone lit up in the darkness.

I adjusted my eyes, squinting.

Text.

Text.

Text.

Text.

Text.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Text.

Text.

Text.

To be continued...

Waking up from myself To a life outside this hell No more lies, no more pain You can’t fight the war we made The war we made. - Red “The War We Made”

NOTE: Though this is my side of the story, including my own personal recollections and opinions, the reader should not consider this note anything other than a work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

#relationships #breakups #cheating #divorce #depression #love #advice #dating

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 6

Aedion’s saga continues.  Read Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4.  Chapter 5.  Mild trigger warning for mention of suicidal thoughts.

Aedion paused at the edge of the training field and knelt stiffly to fiddle with his boot.  Not that he could do much to fix it with one hand.  The morning had passed in a blur, and Raedan had been spectacular.  He wondered vaguely how Raedan had come up with the perfect story for his bruised face, but the silly tale of breaking into the kitchens and stealing ale worked, not least because it was something every boy there had done at least once before.  And combining ale with the sleeping draft from the healer probably would have been a bad idea that may well have led to him passing out and smashing his face against the doorjamb and the stoop.  

An added bonus was that being hungover was a realistic reason for him to have immediately turned and vomited his guts out when he caught the scent of one of the other boys’ morning release.  And for him barely being able to manage breakfast at all.

But now Raedan was off for his morning of kitchen duty, and Aedion was here facing down the men he trained with.  He took one deep breath, then another.  Pushing the heels of his hands into his thighs, he was just about to rise when a voice behind him said his name.  He surged to his feet, cursing himself for not having heard the approach, and whipped around to see the brown-eyed officer who had complimented him after the fight.  Pulling himself together, he gave the small bow of protocol and waited.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle - good gracious, son, what happened to you?”

Aedion gave as cocky a grin as he could manage.  “Oh, I, uh, took a sleeping draft from the healer last night.  I didn’t realize how quickly it would work.  I don’t remember too much but apparently I went down like a sack of grain in the doorway and hit my head on the doorjamb.”

The man looked skeptical.  “Really?  A sleeping draft?”

His smile turning sheepish, Aedion added, “There may have also been some ale involved…”

The man gave a wry chuckle and shook his head.  “Well, anyway, I’ve been looking for you.  I’d like you to come with me for the morning.”  His voice and aspect were pleasant, and he smelled clean, but still Aedion’s muscles locked up.   He glanced across the field now with longing.  “It’s okay,” the other man said, misinterpreting his look.  “Lieutenant Dale has already been advised that you and a few of the other men will be missing training today.”

The knowledge that he would not be facing the officers alone unfroze him, and he nodded and fell into step.  As they walked, the man introduced himself as Corporal Taber from Anielle.  They ended up back in the dining hall, breakfast being over, and he was relieved to see Torr and Cobden, boys from his barracks, among the men gathered.  The rest were all among the younger set of experienced soldiers who had fought against Terrasen, and Aedion knew them by sight but not name.  They all nodded tightly at each other, and then the officer called for them all to take their seats.  

What followed was a session on training strategy that brought Aedion back to his weekly meetings with Rhoe.  Corporal Taber was bright, warm, and engaging, and Aedion soon found himself falling into his old habit of asking questions and debating finer points.  The other men joined in, and soon there was a lively discussion such as he had not witnessed since Orynth.  After an hour or so, the door to the hall opened and two people entered.  He ignored them, caught up in the question one of the young men, Litton, was asking, when abruptly he smelled that peculiar metal scent.  His heart stopped, then ratcheted up to a pace that made him breathless.  When he heard them take a seat, and another, warm human smell hit him, he was able to follow that second scent out of the threatening panic.  Logic spoke up then, reminding him that Malins was hardly going to attack him here in front of everyone, and with an effort he drew his focus back to the conversation.

***** It was an effort for Taber to not focus overmuch on the boy.  Despite the fact that he had to be feeling like shit, he was the most animated of the prospects, excelling on drawing the others in.  Between the ferocity and skill of the fight yesterday and blatant intelligence he was displaying today, this Ashryver prince was like no one the corporal had ever seen in his eighteen years of being an officer.  If he proved half as adept as he appeared, he’d be a general by twenty - unheard of in Adarlan.

Taber had a hard time believing Aedion’s story about the sleeping draft.  While those things could knock out a horse, especially if mixed with ale, the careful way he moved indicated further injuries than just the bruises on his face.  Grimly, he remembered the vicious look that Balam man had given Aedion following the dressing-down he received from Lieutenant Dale and wondered.  Not that the prick could have handled the boy on his own, but if he gathered a few of his friends and ambushed him…

Malins and Sanburne entered silently about halfway through the scheduled session, seating themselves unobtrusively by the door behind the table to observe.  Taber didn’t acknowledge them, not wanting to disrupt the rapport building among the recruits.  He couldn’t help but see, though, Aedion freeze when he somehow heard the men and realized who had joined them.  A flicker of panic touched those bizarre eyes and every muscle went rigid for a moment before he shook himself and re-entered the conversation as if nothing had happened.  Taber’s eyes flicked to his colleagues and recognized with a sinking feeling in his gut the look of triumph in Malins’ black eyes.

Not Balam, then.  Malins.  And he knew - they all knew - what Malins did to men he deemed insubordinate.

*****

Staggering with exhaustion, Delaney nearly wept with relief when she saw the rundown old barn in the field.  She had run all night and half the morning through the woods, stumbling over fallen logs and rocks, slipping on wet leaves.  It was her first time away from the fort since she had been a small child, and she had no idea where it was in relation to anything in Adarlan.  All she knew was Aedion’s directive: go north to the river crossing.  Thankfully she’d been around soldiers enough she had learned how to tell direction by the stars, such as she could see through the trees.  Not long after dawn, the forest had thinned and she had skimmed along the edge, staying out of sight of any houses or roads, scanning for a safe place to rest.  The barn door had rotted out, so she just crawled through the hole rather than opening it.  Dragging herself up the ladder into the loft, she collapsed onto the pile of musty hay and was lost to sleep within seconds.

The sun was nearing the horizon when she awoke, chilled and wracked with thirst.  In the light that filtered through the broken wood, she opened the satchel for the first time and sorted through it.  She was startled to find clothes in her size, black lambswool pants like the stable boys wore; a linen tunic from the kitchen maids, and a heavy cream sweater.  Two sets of socks.  Ladies’ underthings.  When Aedion had said there were clothes in there she had expected to be swimming in stuff sized for his freakish frame, but clearly this pack was meant for her.  She wondered when he had hidden it.  Digging deeper, she found a water skin and numerous small packets of dried meat, nuts, and crackers.  The provisions they gave the boys when they practiced scouting.  How long had he been holding his rations back?  This was weeks’ worth, and enough to last her at least a few days if she found nothing else.  A small coil of rope, another of fine wire, a flint, and a knife made up the rest of it.

Shucking her filthy dress, she hurriedly put on the clean, warm clothes.  In the pocket of the pants she found a folded paper - a map, remarkably well-drawn, of Adarlan and Terrasen.  And on the back, a note in his strong hand.  The note seemed mostly nonsense - some story about fire.  She suspected it was not intended for her.

What was he doing now, her lion-hearted friend?  What had her sisters thought when she hadn’t come home?  Raedan would take care of them as best he could, but he was in the barracks and always training or working now.  Her mother… But there was no time to think of any of that now, she needed to find a source of fresh water before it grew dark.  Tucking the map away she crept down the ladder and back through the hole in the door.  If there was a farm, there must be water near by, and sure enough, she found a clean spring that led to a small stream right on the edge of the woods.    She scooped water frantically into her mouth before filling the skin, then settling on a log and chewing on a strip of dried beef.  Pulling the map back out of her pocket, she studied it in the failing light.  The most direct path north would keep her away from what she guessed were mountains inked along the western edge, but would also take her out of the protection of the woods at some point.  She debated the merits of staying more hidden versus speed.  She didn’t know how far she had gone, but doubted she had gotten more than a few miles from the camp.  Finishing the beef and more water, she smacked the map against her leg and stood, her decision made.  She began picking her way carefully along the edge of the woods, the fields just visible to her right, as she put more miles between herself and those who might try to follow.  In another few days she would shift her course, hoping the increased speed from traveling across fields would make up for the visibility.  As the waxing crescent rose, she thought again of her sisters, their hopeful faces and ready laughter, and prayed to the forsaking gods that she had not saved herself only to doom the girls.

*****

Days passed in an unfamiliar mixture of slow haze and sharp clarity.  Most of the time, he felt like a fly caught in sap, slowly drowning while watching the world pass around him.  Then a brief spell of clarity would hit, and he would rise into himself for a few minutes before getting sucked back down.  

He was snapped out of his stupor for a little while at dinner the first night, when he saw Avis and Maida sitting silently at the table with downcast eyes.  He set his food down and slid into his usual seat.  Avis looked up at him, a flicker of hope dashing across her face.  “Do you know where Delaney is?”   Shaking his head, he shifted so he was sitting sideways and opened his arms.  Maida ran around the table and flung herself in his lap, and he wrapped one arm around her and tucked her into his chest.  Avis followed more slowly and stopped before reaching him.   Crossing her arms, she glared at him suspiciously.  “Men came.  Men I didn’t know came and asked about her, and then she didn’t come home.”

Aedion closed his eyes for a second to hide the guilt.  He hadn’t even considered what sending Delaney away would do to her sisters, his only thought had been to get her to safety.  “I don’t know where she is, honey,” he replied carefully.  “I do know that she’s smart, too smart to get in trouble.  So if I had to bet, I’d bet that she’s somewhere safe.”  Avis stepped closer to his extended arm, and he encircled her and pulled her in so she could lean on him.  “Delaney would never leave you two without a good reason, you know that.”  Both girls nodded solemnly.  “So let’s trust her.  Let’s trust that she’s doing the smart thing and that she’ll see you again when she can.”  With a gentle squeeze, he released the girls and they returned to their places just as Raedan joined them.  He was looking at Aedion with an odd blend of sadness and pleasure, but he turned almost immediately to claim Maida’s attention.  Aedion began eating mechanically, and all around him the buzzing darkness rose again.

Over the next week the moments of clarity slowly increased.  The only predictable triggers were the daily sessions with the other recruits, and the meals he shared with Delaney’s sisters.  At other times he would suddenly feel as if he’d been shoved out from a dark closet into the sun.  It happened once when a robin flew down and picked a few crumbs from near his feet while he was standing guard.  It happened again when he walked by the laundry and the smell of steam and soap wafted out at him.  Another time it was a bawdy joke Cobden was telling Raedan, and he startled himself - and both of them - with his laugh.

He was standing on guard at the gate when the fog truly began to lift.  Nothing was happening; the usual movements through to and from the market in the town nearby were all finished for the day.  The sun was sinking low in the sky, and as he played with his dagger, the spinning blade kept catching the light.  The resulting flashes looked like flickering flame and suddenly his vision of following flame out of the river returned.  He wished he hadn’t followed it, that he had just let the icy water drag him to oblivion.  The dagger’s movements caught the light again, and he thought idly about what would happen if he drew that honed blade across his wrist.  If he shifted the grip in his hand and plunged it through his ribs.  It would be easy enough; he knew the perfect spot.  Would he be able to be with them again, with Rhoe and Evalin, Quinn, his mother?  With Aelin…but Aelin hadn’t been with them.  He twirled the dagger again, flipping it through his fingers, the temptation to turn it on himself slowly subsiding.  

The gate opened and his replacement, a young man who had just graduated to a full soldier, stepped out.  “Oh, Ashryver, Corporal Taber wanted me to tell you to join him in his office, an hour before dinner.”  Aedion stiffened automatically, clenching his jaw tight enough that his ears popped.  The disconcerted man took a small step back away from him, and he realized he was still clenching his dagger.  Striving to soften his expression, he sheathed it and nodded, then gave his report and left.

Half an hour later, he was standing at the end of the line of small buildings, staring down the gravel strip that divided them from the main buildings of the camp.  There was nobody else in the area.  Bile rose in his throat as he looked at the lighted windows of the middle cabin.  He trusted Taber after their week’s acquaintance; but he didn’t trust that Taber was the one who sent the request.  His thumb automatically rubbed over the crescent scar on his palm, the movement slightly disturbing the splint bindings on his fingers.  There was a slight crunch of feet behind him, and he turned to see Litton walking towards him.  He liked Litton; had liked him the little he’d known him before all this, and his respect for the man had grown as they had debated and joked in the group discussions with Taber.

Litton nodded to him.  “Ashryver.”

“Litton,” Aedion replied, swallowing down his nausea.

“Looks like it’s you and me, then.”  Aedion looked at him quizzically, and he explained.  “The officers are leaving tomorrow, so they’re making their selection.  Since they asked us here, I’m assuming they’re choosing us.”  He grinned, but his eyes were serious.  “You ready to be a lieutenant in the Adarlan army?”

Somehow, that this was the reason for the summons had never occurred to him.  He straightened, a light flaring in his turquoise eyes.  “I was born ready.”

Litton laughed.  “Then let’s go claim our birthright, shall we?”  

*****

Taber studied the scene before him.  Major Sanburne had settled in the chair behind the desk, flanked by himself and Malins, Ashryver and Litton standing opposite.  Litton looked calm, proud, certain of his advancement.  The prince, on the other hand, had entered the small room looking positively sick.  For a long moment he had fixated on a spot on the floor before dragging his eyes to Sanburne and bowing, an expressionless mask falling over his features. The only indication now that he was not the epitome of composure now was the thumb of his left hand rubbing over his palm repeatedly.  

Sanburne began with a nod of acknowledgement to Litton.  “Almire Litton,” he began in his dry voice, “as a result of the way you have acquitted yourself both on the battlefield and in training, you have been nominated to advance to the position of Lieutenant.”  He continued on through the recitation of the standard language of advancement and Taber glanced to Malins.  The man’s black eyes were fixed on Aedion, a smug smirk on his lips.  The boy seemed oblivious but there was a slight flush on his neck and that thumb had not stopped moving.  “Do you hereby accept the commission of Lieutenant in the King’s army?”

“I accept,” Litton said, voice quavering with emotion.

“Aedion Ashryver,” Sanburne said, shifting slightly to face the boy, who met his eyes dispassionately.  “You have also faced battle and by all accounts fought bravely.  Since your absorption into the Adarlan army, you have proven yourself an outstanding fighter…”  As the major droned on, Taber mulled over the choice of language.  Aedion was a first, as far as he knew; not native-born, not a volunteer or nominated by his family.  Raised to lead the armies of Terrasen, and now fighting his way towards the top in Terrasen’s conquerer.  “Do you herby accept the commission of Lieutenant in the King’s army?”

“It will be my honor to accept,” Ashryver answered, with a formal bow.  

Sanburne nodded, pleased, and turned the two papers over to be signed by the men.  “You will be expected to report to General Paget in six weeks.  Litton, I understand you have family nearby.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I suggest you spend some time with them before heading north.  It may be some time before you see them again.”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”

“Asryver, as you have no family on this continent, Major Farrers has offered to have you join his men and spend the next few weeks getting familiar with the workings of the officers in Adarlan.  You are to report to him after dinner.”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

“And in the meantime, why don’t you head to the stables and select your horses.”  Aedion’s mask briefly slipped, and Taber nearly smiled at the surprised pleasure that flashed before it returned.  “Yes, son,” Sanburne said, having caught it as well.  “All officers are assigned a horse.  I had heard you had a fondness for them.”

“Yes, sir.  I spend much of my childhood on horseback, sir.”

“Then off you go.  I look forward to working with you both in the future.”

The new lieutenants both bowed and then strode out of the office.  Sanburne rose and with a nod to the two corporals followed them out, no doubt  eager to grab his usual snifter of liquor before dinner.  Taber turned to Malins.

“Say, what did you talk about in that meeting with Ashryver the other night?”

Malins’ startled look at the question was quickly replaced by one of boredom.  “Oh, I just made sure he understood the importance of the chain of command.”

“I wasn’t aware the boy had an issue with that.  What exactly did you do to ensure that?”

The black eyes flashed, but the man’s tone was neutral.  “Only what was necessary.”  He turned on his heel then and left the office.

Taber went around the desk to see if he could figure out what Aedion had been looking at.  There was a ring set in the floor, a twin to it near the wall.  Looking back at the desk, he saw a dull spot in some of the carving along the edges; closer inspection showed some specks of the dull reddish brown of blood.  He stared out the door where Malins had disappeared, shaking his head in sorrow.  

*****

Delaney was startled out of her sleep by a female voice like a knife.  “Well, well, what have we here?”  She sat bolt upright on the musty bed, staring around her in terror, to see a tall woman in the shadows near the cottage door.  After a week of snatching a few hours of sleep in hollows on the frosty ground, this abandoned cottage had seemed like a blessing from the gods.  She should have known there was no such thing.

“I - I’m sorry,” she stammered.  “I thought nobody lived here, and I needed a place to sleep.”

“Indeed.”  The woman prowled closer, the sunlight streaming through the window alighting on her long golden hair.  As her face was illuminated, Delaney’s jaw dropped - with her alabaster skin, large black eyes flecked with gold, and perfect features she was beautiful in a way that belonged to another world.  “And why are you out here all alone, a little delicate thing like you?”

Lowering her eyes, Delaney began the tale of woe she had been perfecting.  “My father died last year.  My mother sold me in marriage, and my husband…” She twisted her hands together.  “He is not a good man.  I fled two weeks ago after he threatened to beat me.”

She looked up to see the woman directly in front of her, though she had not heard her moving.  “And where are you running to?”

“I - I have kin in Orynth.  I’ve never met them, but -“ A long white hand shot out and wrapped around her throat.  

“Liar,” the woman hissed, and Delaney felt the sharp prick of nails in the sides of her neck.  With a small click, iron teeth dropped down over the perfect white ones, and all thoughts emptied out of her head except one word: Witch.

“Do you want to try again?” the woman crooned.  “Or do you want to make up another story, so I can have even more reason to spill your guts?”

She fought to retain control over her bodily functions as sheer terror caused her heart to race and her bladder to clench.  Swallowing with difficulty, Delaney whispered, “I was raised in the war camps, I know nothing else.  But then they took my friend.  They took him…” her breathing, already restricted, hitched as she fought not to sob.  “He made it so I could escape, and he told me to head to Orynth.”

The pain in her neck lessened slightly and the woman cocked her head, the movement purely feline.  “What do you mean, they took your friend?”

Tears escaped then, coursing hot down her cheeks.  “They…they tortured him.  They were breaking him, and he told me to leave, and I fled.  I don’t even know if he still lives.”  

The woman considered her words, tapping her iron teeth with the iron nails on her free hand.  “And why,” she drawled, dragging out the sound, “would they torture your friend?”

Delaney snorted without humor.  “Because he was strong,” she answered, her voice regaining volume.  “He was stronger than them, and that is the way of men.”

The gold-flecked eyes looked into hers for a long moment, and abruptly Delaney found herself released.  “So it is, young one.”  Delaney sank to the ground, her legs unable to hold her.  The witch studied her, no warmth on her face, just cool calculation.  “This friend of yours, was he your lover?”

“No.”  The witch waited.  “No, he was more like…my adopted brother.”

The woman looked her up and down, taking in her stained clothes, her wan face, her shaking hands.  “When did you last eat, child?”

“Umm.”  She thought.  “I had some eggs yesterday.”  The food, though rationed carefully, had run out a few days ago, and it was too early in the year for there to be much edible in the woods or on the farms.  She’d raided a few henhouses for eggs that she’d sucked down raw straight from the shell.  Even grain left for livestock was beginning to look appealing.

“Wait here,” the woman said, and disappeared through the open door.  She returned shortly with a satchel of her own, and began pulling out several loaves of bread, rounds of cheese, and apples and setting them on the rickety table.  “Eat,” she told Delaney, “then get more rest.  I’ll be back later.”  Before Delaney could gather her thoughts, the beautiful woman - witch - was gone.  

Dragging herself to her feet, she stumbled over to the table and grabbed a loaf of bread.  Tearing off a hunk, she crammed it in her mouth, swallowing almost without chewing in desperation for something to fill that angry hollow in her stomach.  Several more mouthfuls followed, then she made herself stop so it wouldn’t all just come back up.  She sat back on the bed and sipped some water and tried to think.  Stories of the witches had been told around camp, hushed whispers designed to keep children awake at night.  Beautiful, immortal beings who bedded men only to bleed them out, getting more pleasure from the blood than the bedding.  Who ate children unfortunate enough to stumble across them.  Delaney was hardly a child but she was no less vulnerable.  She wondered if the stories were wrong, or if this witch was just different.

Once she was sure the food had settled, she ate the rest of the loaf of bread, some of the cheese, and an apple.  Sitting back on the bed, she thought of Aedion, of Maida and Avis, of Raedan.  She hadn’t allowed herself that luxury the past couple of days when the effort of keeping on her feet took all her energy.  Her sisters’ bright smiles, Aedion teasing them, Raedan always checking in on them all made her lips twitch into a small smile of her own.  Then images of Aedion flashed across her brain, of him bound and bleeding on that table; of him whispering his cousin’s name with pain dulling his eyes; of him laid out gray and cold, eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.  She scrubbed at her face with her hands, trying to drive the thoughts out, only to see pictures of Avis sobbing under a soldier, Maida wasting away with scabs on her lips, Raedan falling with an arrow in his chest.  Curling into a ball, she wept for her family until eventually sleep dragged her under.

*****

Aedion struggled to keep his pace limited to Litton’s as they headed over to the stables.  His own horse…he hadn’t had that luxury in two years.  He all but burst through the door, heading straight to Sparrow’s stall to earn a pinned-eared glare.  Litton stood in the aisle looking a little bit lost.  

“Hey, boy,” called the stable master, Darel, from down the aisle.  “Where’ve you been this past week?  Half these horses are kicking down the stalls and I’m running the boys ragged trying to get them all ridden.”

Aedion grinned as he turned to him, holding up his splinted hand.  “Hard for me to do too much with this.”

“Oh, aye, I heard about that.  Still don’t know how you let that old bastard do that, no doubt your mind was on your cock and your lady friend instead of your job.”  

Litton swelled with indignation.  “You are addressing a lieutenant in the King’s army.”

Aedion just laughed as Darel turned a baleful eye to the other man, then looked back to him.  “So they picked you, eh?   Ah, well, they’d be fools not to.  I suppose you’re here to pick out your horse, then?”

Litton replied in the affirmative, and Darel pointed down the aisle.  “There’s some available ones at the end, go down and take your pick.”  Aedion gazed wistfully at Sparrow.  “Nah, you can’t have your old bitch-mare, but i got half a dozen new ones for you to look over.  Even grabbed a couple mares since I know you like the ladies.”  He followed Litton and Darel to the end of the barn, where several curious faces popped over their stall doors to see who had come to visit them.  Litton immediately headed to the large black stallion in the farthest stall, while Aedion spent a few minutes looking each horse over carefully.  He came back to the first horse, a tall, narrow seal brown mare with a white spot on her forehead, and offered her his empty palm to sniff.  She lipped at it and then gave him a disappointed look and he chuckled.  

Darel gave a broad smile that showed several missing teeth.  “That’s the one I picked out for you, son,” he said, sounding pleased.  “She’s the best-bred one of the lot, her great-granddaddy was full Asterion.  Got a great bargain on her at the sales.”

“Why?” Aedion asked cautiously.

The older man rubbed the back of his neck.  “Oh, ah, she’s a bit green is all.”

“How green?”  He didn’t mind a green horse too much, having ridden quite a few over the past eighteen months, but he’d rather not have to fight one every second to stay in the saddle.

“Well, she knows how to steer pretty good.  And on a good day she’ll even stop.”

Aedion laughed and the mare pricked her ears at the sound.  He rubbed small circles over the white spot on her forehead until she half-closed her eyes.  “Well, that’s fine, worst case scenario I can just leap off when we get there.”  Darel’s toothless grin grew.  “You don’t think she’s too slight for me though, do you?  I’m not going to get any smaller with time.”

“Aye, but neither is she.  You just both need a bit more muscle.  Speaking of which, you best go get your nose in a feed bag, son, you look half-starved.”  The old man left him then with a hearty slap on the back.

Litton stepped closer as soon as the stable master was out of earshot.  “You shouldn’t let him disrespect you that way.”

Aedion shrugged.  “He didn’t mean any harm, it’s just his way.  If he didn’t respect me he’d bow to my face and then mock me behind my back.”

The other man shook his head.  “I can see you know him pretty well, but even so, you’re an officer now.  These men need to have a little fear in order to follow you.”

Aedion pursed his lips, debating with himself for a moment before asking, “Who’s your father?  Where did you grow up?”

He looked a little confused at the non sequitur, but replied, “I’m the second son of Lord Litton of Pernel.”

Aedion nodded.  “I’m guessing you’ve never spent much time with ordinary people except as part of your assigned work here?”  Litton shrugged, and Aedion went on.  “It’ll be easy to get people to fear you, you’re the son of a lord and an officer of the King.  You could slaughter them all with no repercussions.  But if you can get them to love you, then they’ll jump in front of a sword to save you, and that’s everything.”  Litton still looked skeptical.  “Look, I can kill Darel with my bare hands, and we both know it.  But I don’t make him feel it.  I joke around with him, and do my work and help out where I can, I treat him like he matters.  Because he does.  His life is worth as much as mine.  And that’s why,” he said, grinning, “he went to the sale and got me this horse.”  He laid a hand on the glossy black-brown neck.  “This mare is worth more than the other five he bought put together, green or no, and he bought her for me.  Not even knowing yet that I’d make lieutenant.  Understand?”

Litton studied him, a peculiar expression on his face.  “You’re an interesting man, Lieutenant Ashryver.”  He clapped Aedion on the shoulder, gave the mare a long look, then turned and walked away.

*****

The golden-haired woman shook Delaney roughly awake.  “Come with me,” she said, and she turned on her heel and stalked out the door.  Delaney rubbed the sleep from her eyes and followed her into the dusk.  A small, sorry-looking horse stood there with loaded saddle bags.  She blinked, wondering if she was hallucinating or still dreaming.

“What…” she didn’t know what to ask, what to say.

“You’ll never get to Orynth the rate you’re going,” the woman said.  “This will help you.  There’s some food and clothes in the saddle bags, and a few other things.  Ride until you get to the next inn, then stop there for the night.  Make sure you go through all your things carefully.  With the horse you should be able to stick to the roads and make better time.  If they’re looking for you, they’ll be looking for a girl on foot.”

The ready tears started up again.  “But why?” She turned to the beautiful woman in honest bafflement.  “Why are you helping me?”

The woman rubbed her pale hand over her abdomen and looked off to the south, towards the camp.  “Because somebody down there thinks you’re worth sacrificing their life for.  No reason for that to be in vain.  Now, go quick.”

Delaney mounted awkwardly, being no horsewoman, and turned the nag up the overgrown drive that led to the main road.  As they headed away, she turned in the saddle to look back at the woman who stood watching, one hand still resting on her abdomen, an inscrutable expression on that stunning, wild face.  Delaney raised a hand in farewell, and with a slight nod the woman disappeared into the gloom.  Turning back to the road, she kicked the horse into a bouncy trot and headed north, the vast stars arching overhead urging her onward.  

#aedion #aedion ashryver #prequel #my writing #tog #throne of glass

[thegreatlawn]

The Two Roommates

(based on the tale "The Two Brothers" by the Brothers Grimm)

There were once upon a time two magicians, one powerful and the other rebellious. The rich one was a Grimm and evil-hearted. The poor one wanted to start a Revolution and was good-meaning and kind of honourable. They each had a child, who were nothing alike but for their capability of magic. The two boys went to the Watford School of Magicks, and often got some of the scraps to eat, for example, sour cherry scones and raisin scones and roast and sandwiches and so on. It happened once when the rebellious man was going into the forest to fetch wand-wood, that he saw a bird which was quite golden and more beautiful than any he had ever chanced to meet with. He picked up a small stone, threw it at him, and was lucky enough to hit him, but one golden feather only fell down, and the bird flew away. The man took the feather and carried it to the Grimm, who looked at it and said, "It is pure gold!" and gave him a great deal of money for it. (Not leprechaun gold tho because that disappears if you try to give it to another wizard.) Next day the man climbed into a birch-tree and was about to cut off a couple of branches when the same bird flew out, and when the man searched he found a nest, and an egg lay inside it, which was of gold. He took the egg home with him and carried it to the Grimm, who again said, "It is pure gold," and gave him what it was worth. At last, the Grimm said, "I should indeed like to have the bird itself." The revolutionist went into the forest for the third time, and again saw the golden bird sitting on the tree, so he took a stone and brought it down and carried it to the Grimm, who gave him a great heap of gold for it. "Now I can get on," thought he, and went contentedly home.

The Grimm was crafty and cunning and knew very well what kind of a bird it was. He called his wife (Natasha Grimm-Pitch) and said, "Roast me the gold bird, and take care that none of it is lost. I have a fancy to eat it all myself." The bird, however, was no common one, but of so wondrous a kind that whosoever ate its heart and liver found every morning a piece of gold beneath his pillow. The woman made the bird ready, put it on the spit, and let it roast. Now it happened that while it was at the fire, and the woman was forced to go out of the kitchen on account of some other work, the two students of the Watford School of Magicks ran in, stood by the spit and turned it around once or twice. And as at that very moment, two little bits of the bird fell down into the dripping-tin, one of the boys (Simon Snow obviously)  said, "We will eat these two little bits; I am so hungry, and no one will ever miss them." Then the two ate the pieces, but the woman came into the kitchen and saw that they were eating something and said, "What have ye been eating?" - "Two little morsels which fell out of the bird," answered they. "That must have been the heart and the liver," said the woman, not frightened but angry because she was the headmaster after all, and in order that her husband might not miss them and be angry, she quickly killed a young cock, took out his heart and liver, and put them beside the golden bird. When it was ready, she carried it to the Grimm, who consumed it all alone and left none of it. Next morning, however, when he felt beneath his pillow and expected to bring out the piece of gold, no more gold pieces were there than there had always been.

The two students did not know what a piece of good-fortune had fallen to their lot. Next morning when they arose, something fell rattling to the ground, and when they picked it up there were two gold pieces! Simon Snow took them to his father, who was astonished and said, "How can that have happened?" When next morning they again found two, and so on daily, the Mage went to the Grimm and told him the strange story. The Grimm at once knew how it had come to pass, and that the children had eaten the heart and liver of the golden bird, and in order to revenge himself, and because he was envious and hard-hearted, he said to the father, "The children are in league with the Evil One, do not take the gold, and do not suffer them to stay any longer in the Watford School of Magicks, for he has them in his power, and may ruin thee likewise." The revolutionist feared the Evil One (for whatever reason, he was evil himself after all), and he led the students forth into the forest, and with a frolicking heart left them there.

And now the two students ran about the forest, and sought the way back to Watford again, but could not find it, and only lost themselves more and more. At length, they met with an old wizard with a long white beard, who asked, "To whom do you children belong?" - "We are the children of magicians," they replied, and they told him that their fathers would not keep them any longer in the Watford School of Magick because a piece of gold lays every morning under their pillows. "Come," said the old and weird wizard, "that is nothing so very bad, if at the same time you keep honest, and are not idle." As the good man liked the children and had none of his own, he took them home with him and said, "I will be your father, and bring you up till you are big." They learnt even more about wizardry than they could have in Watford from him, and the piece of gold which each of them found when he awoke, was kept for them by him in case they should need it in the future.

When they were grown up, their foster-father one day took them into the forest with him, and said, "Today shall you make your trial, so that I may release you from your apprenticeship, and make you fully accepted wizards." They went with him to lie in wait and stayed there a long time, but no game appeared. The old wizard, however, looked above him and saw a covey of pixies flying in the form of a triangle, and said to one of them, "Spell me down one from each corner." He did it and thus accomplished his trial. Soon after another covey came flying by in the form of the figure too, and the weird wizard bade the other also bring down one from each corner, and his trial was likewise successful. "Now," said the foster-father, "I pronounce you out of your apprenticeship; you are skilled magicians." Thereupon the two students went forth together into the forest, and took counsel with each other and planned something. And in the evening when they had sat down to supper, they said to their foster-father, "We will not touch food, or take one mouthful until you have granted us a request." Said he, "What, then, is your request?" They replied, "We have now finished learning, and we must prove ourselves in the world, so allow us to go away and travel." Then spake the old man joyfully, "You talk like brave wizards, that which you desire has been my wish; go forth, all will go well with you." Thereupon they ate and drank joyously together.

When the appointed day came, their foster-father presented each of them with a sword and a dog, and let each of them take as many of his saved-up gold pieces as he chose. Then he accompanied them a part of the way, and when taking leave, he gave them a bright knife, and said, "If ever you separate, stick this knife into a tree at the place where you part, and when one of you goes back, he will be able to see how his absent brother is faring, for the side of the knife which is turned in the direction by which he went, will rust if he dies, but will remain bright as long as he is alive." The two boys went still farther onwards and came to a forest which was so large that it was impossible for them to get out of it in one day. So they passed the night in it and ate what they had put in their hunting-pouches, but they walked all the second day likewise, and still did not get out. As they had nothing to eat, one of them said, "We must spell something for ourselves or we shall suffer from hunger," and took out his wand, and looked about him. And when an old hare came running up towards them, he pointed his wand on his shoulder, but the hare cried,

"Dear wizards, do but let me live, Two little ones to thee I'll give,"

and sprang instantly into the thicket, and brought two young ones. But the little creatures played so merrily and were so pretty, that the magicians could not find it in their hearts to kill them. They, therefore, kept them with them, and the little hares followed on foot. Soon after this, a fox crept past; they were just going to spell  it, but the fox cried,

"Dear wizards, do but let me live, Two little ones I'll also give."

He, too, brought two little foxes, and the wizards did not like to kill them either but gave them to the hares for a company, and they followed behind. It was not long before a wolf strode out of the thicket; the boys made ready to kill him, but the wolf cried,

"Dear wizards, do but let me live, Two little ones I'll likewise give."

The magicians put the two wolves beside the other animals, and they followed behind them. Then a bear came who wanted to trot about a little longer, and cried:

"Dear wizards, do but let me live, Two little ones I, too, will give."

The two young bears were added to the others, and there were already eight of them. At length who came? A lion came and tossed his mane. But the boys did not let themselves be frightened and aimed at him likewise, but the lion also said,

"Dear wizards, do but let me live, Two little ones I, too, will give."

And he brought his little ones to them, and now the magicians had two lions, two bears, two wolves, two foxes, and two hares, who followed them and served them. In the meantime, their hunger was not appeased by this, and they said to the foxes, "Hark ye, cunning fellows, provide us with something to eat. You are crafty and deep." They replied, "Not far from here lies a village, from which we have already brought many a fowl; we will show you the way there." So they went into the village, bought themselves something to eat, had some food given to their beasts, and then travelled onwards. The foxes, however, knew their way very well about the district and where the poultry-yards were and were able to guide the boys.

Now they travelled about for a while, but could find no situations where they could remain together, so they said, "There is nothing else for it, we must part." They divided the animals, so that each of them had a lion, a bear, a wolf, a fox, and a hare, then they took leave of each other, promised to love each other like roommates who where bound to the Anathema till their death, and stuck the knife which their foster-father had given them, into a tree, after which one went east, and the other went west.

The younger, however, arrived with his beasts in a town which was all hung with black crape. He went into an inn and asked the host if he could accommodate his animals. The innkeeper gave him a stable, where there was a hole in the wall, and the hare crept out and fetched himself the head of a cabbage, and the fox fetched himself a hen, and when he had devoured that got the cock as well, but the wolf, the bear, and the lion could not get out because they were too big. Then the innkeeper let them be taken to a place where a cow was just then lying on the grass, that they might eat till they were satisfied. And when the wizard had taken care of his animals, he asked the innkeeper why the town was thus hung with black crape? Said the host, "Because our King's only daughter is to die tomorrow." The magician inquired if she was "sick unto death?" - "No," answered the host, "she is vigorous and healthy, nevertheless she must die!" - "How is that?" asked the young boy. "There is a high hill without the town, whereon dwells a dragon who every year must have a pure virgin, or he lays the whole country waste, and now all the maidens have already been given to him, and there is no longer anyone left but the King's daughter, yet there is no mercy for her; she must be given up to him, and that is to be done tomorrow." Said the wizard, "Why is the dragon not killed?" - "Ah," replied the host, "so many knights have tried it, but it has cost all of them their lives. The King has promised that he who conquers the dragon shall have his daughter to wife, and shall likewise govern the kingdom after his own death."

The wizard said nothing more to this, but next morning took his animals, and with them ascended the dragon's hill. A little church stood at the top of it, and on the altar, three full cups were standing, with the inscription, "Whosoever empties the cups will become the strongest man on earth and will be able to wield the sword which is buried before the threshold of the door." The magician did not drink, but went out and sought for the sword in the ground, but was unable to move it from its place. Then he went in and emptied the cups, and now he was strong enough to take up the sword, and his hand could quite easily wield it. When the hour came when the maiden was to be delivered over to the dragon, the King, the marshal, and courtiers accompanied her. From afar she saw the wizard on the dragon's hill, and thought it was the dragon standing there waiting for her, and did not want to go up to him, but at last, because otherwise the whole town would have been destroyed, she was forced to go the miserable journey. The King and courtiers returned home full of grief; the King's marshal, however, was to stand still and see all from a distance.

When the King's daughter got to the top of the hill, it was not the dragon which stood there, but the young boy, who comforted her, and said he would save her, led her into the church and locked her in. It was not long before the seven-headed dragon came thither with loud roaring. When he perceived the magician, he was astonished and said, "What business hast thou here on the hill?" The wizard answered, "I want to fight with thee." Said the dragon, "Many knights have left their lives here, I shall soon have made an end of thee too," and he breathed fire out of seven jaws. The fire was to have lighted the dry grass, and the boy was to have been suffocated in the heat and smoke, but the animals came running up and trampled out the fire. Then the dragon rushed upon the wizard, but he swung his sword until it sang through the air, and struck off three of his heads. Then the dragon grew right furious, and rose up in the air, and spat out flames of fire over the magician, and was about to plunge down on him, but the boy once more drew out his sword and again cut off three of his heads. The monster became faint and sank down, nevertheless it was just able to rush upon the Huntsman, but he with his last strength smote its tail off, and as he could fight no longer, called up his animals who tore it in pieces. (He also could have used a "Ladybird Ladybird fly away home, but we're talking about Simon here, let's be real, he never thinks about using his magic or his words as long as he has a sword available.) When the struggle was ended, the wizard unlocked the church and found the King's daughter lying on the floor, as she had lost her senses with anguish and terror during the contest. He carried her out, and when she came to herself once more and opened her eyes, he showed her the dragon all cut to pieces and told her that she was now delivered. She rejoiced and said, "Now thou wilt be my dearest husband, for my father has promised me to him who kills the dragon." Thereupon she took off her necklace of coral and divided it amongst the animals in order to reward them, and the lion received the golden clasp. Her pocket-handkerchief, however, on which was her name (Agatha Wellbelove), she gave to the wizard, who went and cut the tongues out of the dragon's seven heads, wrapped them in the handkerchief, and preserved them carefully.

That done, as he was so faint and weary with the fire and the battle, he said to the maiden, "We are both faint and weary, we will sleep awhile." Then she said, "yes," and they lay down on the ground, and the boy said to the lion, "Thou shalt keep watch, that no one surprises us in our sleep," and both fell asleep. The lion lay down beside them to watch, but he also was so weary with the fight, that he called to the bear and said, "Lie down near me, I must sleep a little: if anything comes, waken me." Then the bear lay down beside him, but he also was tired, and called the wolf and said, "Lie down by me, I must sleep a little, but if anything comes, waken me." Then the wolf lay down by him, but he was tired likewise, and called the fox and said, "Lie down by me, I must sleep a little; if anything comes, waken me." Then the fox lay down beside him, but he too was weary, and called the hare and said, "Lie down near me, I must sleep a little, and if anything should come, waken me." Then the hare sat down by him, but the poor hare was tired too, and had no one whom he could call there to keep watch, and fell asleep. And now the King's daughter, the magician, the lion, the bear, the wolf, the fox, and the hare, were all sleeping a sound sleep. The marshal, however, who was to look on from a distance, took courage when he did not see the dragon flying away with the maiden, and finding that all the hill had become quiet, ascended it. There lay the dragon hacked and hewn to pieces on the ground, and not far from it were the King's daughter and a wizard with his animals, and all of them were sunk in a sound sleep. And as he was wicked and godless he took his sword, cut off the wizard's head, and seized the maiden in his arms, and carried her down the hill. Then she awoke and was terrified, but the marshal said, "Thou art in my hands, thou shalt say that it was I who killed the dragon." - "I cannot do that," she replied, "for it was a young boy with his animals who did it." Then he drew his sword, and threatened to kill her if she did not obey him, and so compelled her that she promised it. Then he took her to the King, who did not know how to contain himself for joy when he once more looked on his dear child in life, whom he had believed to have been torn to pieces by the monster. The marshal said to him, "I have killed the dragon and delivered the maiden and the whole kingdom as well, therefore I demand her as my wife, as was promised." The King said to the maiden, "Is what he says true?" - "Ah, yes," she answered, "it must indeed be true, but I will not consent to have the wedding celebrated until after a year and a day," for she thought in that time she should hear something of her dear young and handsome saviour.

The animals, however, were still lying sleeping beside their dead master on the dragon's hill, and there came a great humble-bee and lighted on the hare's nose, but the hare wiped it off with his paw, and went on sleeping. The humble-bee came a second time, but the hare again rubbed it off and slept on. Then it came for the third time, and stung his nose so that he awoke. As soon as the hare was awake, he roused the fox, and the fox, the wolf, and the wolf the bear, and the bear the lion. And when the lion awoke and saw that the maiden was gone, and his master was dead, he began to roar frightfully and cried, "Who has done that? Bear, why didst thou not waken me?" The bear asked the wolf, "Why didst thou not waken me?" and the wolf the fox, "Why didst thou not waken me?" and the fox the hare, "Why didst thou not waken me?" The poor hare alone did not know what answer to make, and the blame rested with him. Then they were just going to fall upon him, but he entreated them and said, "Kill me not, I will bring our master to life again. I know a mountain on which a root grows which, when placed in the mouth of anyone, cures him of all illness and every wound. But the mountain lies two hundred hours journey from here." The lion said, "In four-and-twenty hours must thou have run thither and have come back, and have brought the root with thee." Then the hare sprang away, and in four-and-twenty hours he was back, and brought the root with him. The lion put the wizard's head on again, and the hare placed the root in his mouth, and immediately everything united together again, and his heartbeat and life came back. (Probably the reason why Simon still feels a little bit headless from time to time.) Then the magician awoke, and was alarmed when he did not see the maiden, and thought, "She must have gone away whilst I was sleeping, in order to get rid of me." The lion in his great haste had put his master's head on the wrong way round, but the wizard did not observe it because of his melancholy thoughts about the King's daughter. (Again, typical for Simon.) But at noon, when he was going to eat something, he saw that his head was turned backwards and could not understand it, and asked the animals what had happened to him in his sleep. Then the lion told him that they, too, had all fallen asleep from weariness, and on waking, had found him dead with his head cut off, that the hare had brought the life-giving root, and that he, in his haste, had laid hold of the head the wrong way, but that he would repair his mistake. Then he tore the wizard's head off again, turned it around, and the hare healed it with the root. (Simon, use your freaking words! That would spare you so much trouble!)

The wizard, however, was sad at heart, and travelled about the world, and made his animals dance before people. It came to pass that precisely at the end of one year he came back to the same town where he had delivered the King's daughter from the dragon, and this time the town was gaily hung with red cloth. Then he said to the host, "What does this mean? Last year the town was all hung with black crape, what means the red cloth to-day?" The host answered, "Last year our King's daughter was to have been delivered over to the dragon, but the marshal fought with it and killed it, and so tomorrow their wedding is to be solemnized, and that is why the town was then hung with black crape for mourning and is today covered with red cloth for joy?"

Next day when the wedding was to take place, the magician said at midday to the inn-keeper, "Do you believe, sir host, that I while with you here today shall eat bread from the King's own table?" - "Nay," said the host, "I would bet a hundred pieces of gold that will not come true." The wizard accepted the wager and set against it a purse with just the same number of gold pieces. Then he called the hare and said, "Go, my dear runner, and fetch me some of the bread which the King is eating." Now the little hare was the lowest of the animals, and could not transfer this order to any the others, but had to get on his legs himself. "Alas!" thought he, "if I bound through the streets thus alone, the butchers' dogs will all be after me." It happened as he expected, and the dogs came after him and wanted to make holes in his good skin. But he sprang away, have you have never seen one running? and sheltered himself in a sentry-box without the soldier being aware of it. Then the dogs came and wanted to have him out, but the soldier did not understand a jest, and struck them with the butt end of his gun, till they ran away yelling and howling. As soon as the hare saw that the way was clear, he ran into the palace and straight to the King's daughter, sat down under her chair, and scratched at her foot. Then she said, "Wilt thou get away?" and thought it was her dog. The hare scratched her foot for the second time, and she again said, "Wilt thou get away?" and thought it was her dog. But the hare did not let itself be turned from its purpose and scratched her for the third time. Then she peeped down and knew the hare by its collar. She took him on her lap, carried him into her chamber, and said, "Dear Hare, what dost thou want?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and has sent me to ask for a loaf of bread like that which the King eats." Then she was full of joy and had the baker summoned, and ordered him to bring a loaf such as was eaten by the King. The little hare said, "But the baker must likewise carry it thither for me, that the butchers' dogs may do no harm to me." The baker carried if for him as far as the door of the inn, and then the hare got on his hind legs, took the loaf in his front paws, and carried it to his master. Then said the wizard, "Behold, sir host, the hundred pieces of gold are mine." The host was astonished, but the Huntsman went on to say, "Yes, sir host, I have the bread, but now I will likewise have some of the King's roast meat." (This story would be much shorter if Simon would've have used magic for all this jazz, but also less realistic because he's not going to say no if someone else offers to do something for him.)

The host said, "I should indeed like to see that," but he would make no more wagers. The magician called the fox and said, "My little fox, go and fetch me some roast meat, such as the King eats." The red fox knew the bye-ways better, and went by holes and corners without any dog seeing him, seated himself under the chair of the King's daughter, and scratched her foot. Then she looked down and recognized the fox by its collar, took him into her chamber with her and said, "Dear Fox, what dost thou want?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and has sent me. I am to ask for some roast meat such as the King is eating." Then she made the cook come, who was obliged to prepare a roast joint, the same as was eaten by the King, and to carry it for the fox as far as the door. Then the fox took the dish, waved away with his tail the flies which had settled on the meat, and then carried it to his master. "Behold, sir host," said the wizard, "bread and meat are here but now I will also have proper vegetables with it, such as are eaten by the King." Then he called the wolf, and said, "Dear Wolf, go thither and fetch me vegetables such as the King eats." Then the wolf went straight to the palace, as he feared no one, and when he got to the King's daughter's chamber, he twitched at the back of her dress, so that she was forced to look round. She recognized him by his collar, and took him into her chamber with her, and said, "Dear Wolf, what dost thou want?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, I am to ask for some vegetables, such as the King eats." Then she made the cook come, and he had to make ready a dish of vegetables, such as the King ate, and had to carry it for the wolf as far as the door, and then the wolf took the dish from him, and carried it to his master. (Simon, literally the only teenager obsessed with every food INCLUDING vegetables.) "Behold, sir host," said the wizard, "now I have bread and meat and vegetables, but I will also have some pastry to eat like that which the King eats." He called the bear, and said, "Dear Bear, thou art fond of licking anything sweet; go and bring me some confectionery, such as the King eats." Then the bear trotted to the palace, and every one got out of his way, but when he went to the guard, they presented their muskets, and would not let him go into the royal palace. But he got up on his hind legs, and gave them a few boxes on the ears, right and left, with his paws, so that the whole watch broke up, and then he went straight to the King's daughter, placed himself behind her, and growled a little. Then she looked behind her, knew the bear, and bade him go into her room with her, and said, "Dear Bear, what dost thou want?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and I am to ask for some confectionery, such as the King eats." Then she summoned her confectioner, who had to bake confectionery such as the King ate, and carry it to the door for the bear; then the bear first licked up the comfits which had rolled down, and then he stood upright, took the dish, and carried it to his master. "Behold, sir host," said the magician, "now I have bread, meat, vegetables and confectionery, but I will drink wine also, and such as the King drinks." He called his lion to him and said, "Dear Lion, thou thyself likest to drink till thou art intoxicated, go and fetch me some wine, such as is drunk by the King." Then the lion strode through the streets, and the people fled from him, and when he came to the watch, they wanted to bar the way against him, but he did but roar once, and they all ran away. Then the lion went to the royal apartment, and knocked at the door with his tail. Then the King's daughter came forth, and was almost afraid of the lion, but she knew him by the golden clasp of her necklace, and bade him go with her into her chamber, and said, "Dear Lion, what wilt thou have?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and I am to ask for some wine such as is drunk by the King." Then she bade the cup-bearer be called, who was to give the lion some wine like that which was drunk by the King. The lion said, "I will go with him, and see that I get the right wine." Then he went down with the cup-bearer, and when they were below, the cup-bearer wanted to draw him some of the common wine that was drunk by the King's servants, but the lion said, "Stop, I will taste the wine first," and he drew half a measure, and swallowed it down at one draught. "No," said he, "that is not right." The cup-bearer looked at him askance, but went on, and was about to give him some out of another barrel which was for the King's marshal. The lion said, "Stop, let me taste the wine first," and drew half a measure and drank it. "That is better, but still not right," said he. Then the cup-bearer grew angry and said, "How can a stupid animal like you understand wine?" But the lion gave him a blow behind the ears, which made him fall down by no means gently, and when he had got up again, he conducted the lion quite silently into a little cellar apart, where the King's wine lay, from which no one ever drank. The lion first drew half a measure and tried the wine, and then he said, That may possibly be the right sort, and bade the cup-bearer fill six bottles of it. And now they went upstairs again, but when the lion came out of the cellar into the open air, he reeled here and there, and was rather drunk, and the cup-bearer was forced to carry the wine as far as the door for him, and then the lion took the handle of the basket in his mouth, and took it to his master. The wizard said, "Behold, sir host, here have I bread, meat, vegetables, confectionery and wine such as the King has, and now I will dine with my animals," and he sat down and ate and drank, and gave the hare, the fox, the wolf, the bear, and the lion also to eat and to drink, and was joyful, for he saw that the King's daughter still loved him. And when he had finished his dinner, he said, "Sir host, now have I eaten and drunk, as the King eats and drinks, and now I will go to the King's court and marry the King's daughter." Said the host, "How can that be, when she already has a betrothed husband, and when the wedding is to be solemnized to-day?" Then the magician drew forth the handkerchief which the King's daughter had given him on the dragon's hill, and in which were folded the monster's seven tongues, and said, "That which I hold in my hand shall help me to do it." Then the innkeeper looked at the handkerchief, and said, "Whatever I believe, I do not believe that, and I am willing to stake my house and courtyard on it." The Huntsman, however, took a bag with a thousand gold pieces, put it on the table, and said, "I stake that on it."

Now the King said to his daughter, at the royal table, "What did all the wild animals want, which have been coming to thee, and going in and out of my palace?" She replied, "I may not tell you, but send and have the master of these animals brought, and you will do well." The King sent a servant to the inn, and invited the stranger, and the servant came just as the young boy had laid his wager with the innkeeper. Then said he, "Behold, sir host, now the King sends his servant and invites me, but I do not go in this way." And he said to the servant, "I request the Lord King to send me royal clothing, and a carriage with six horses, and servants to attend me." When the King heard the answer, he said to his daughter, "What shall I do?" She said, "Cause him to be fetched as he desires to be, and you will do well." Then the King sent royal apparel, a carriage with six horses, and servants to wait on him. When the huntsman saw them coming, he said, "Behold, sir host, now I am fetched as I desired to be," and he put on the royal garments, took the handkerchief with the dragon's tongues with him, and drove off to the King. When the King saw him coming, he said to his daughter, "How shall I receive him?" She answered, "Go to meet him and you will do well." Then the King went to meet him and led him in, and his animals followed. The King gave him a seat near himself and his daughter, and the marshal, as bridegroom, sat on the other side, but no longer knew the young boy. And now at this very moment, the seven heads of the dragon were brought in as a spectacle, and the King said, "The seven heads were cut off the dragon by the marshal, wherefore today I give him my daughter to wife." The magician stood up, opened the seven mouths, and said, "Where are the seven tongues of the dragon?" Then was the marshal terrified, and grew pale and knew not what answer he should make, and at length in his anguish he said, "Dragons have no tongues." The wizard said, "Liars ought to have none, but the dragon's tongues are the tokens of the victor," and he unfolded the handkerchief, and there lay all seven inside it. And he put each tongue in the mouth to which it belonged, and it fitted exactly. Then he took the handkerchief on which the name of the princess was embroidered, and showed it to the maiden, and asked to whom she had given it, and she replied, "To him who killed the dragon." And then he called his animals, and took the collar off each of them and the golden clasp from the lion, and showed them to the maiden and asked to whom they belonged. She answered, "The necklace and golden clasp were mine, but I divided them among the animals who helped to conquer the dragon." Then spake the magician, "When I, tired with the fight, was resting and sleeping, the marshal came and cut off my head. Then he carried away the King's daughter, and gave out that it was he who had killed the dragon, but that he lied I prove with the tongues, the handkerchief, and the necklace." And then he related how his animals had healed him by means of a wonderful root, and how he had travelled about with them for one year and had at length again come there and had learnt the treachery of the marshal by the innkeeper's story. Then the King asked his daughter, "Is it true that this man killed the dragon?" And she answered, "Yes, it is true. Now can I reveal the wicked deed of the marshal, as it has come to light without my connivance, for he wrung from me a promise to be silent. For this reason, however, did I make the condition that the marriage should not be solemnized for a year and a day." Then the King bade twelve councillors be summoned who were to pronounce judgment on the marshal, and they sentenced him to be torn to pieces by four bulls. The marshal was therefore executed, but the King gave his daughter to the magician, and named him his viceroy over the whole kingdom. The wedding was celebrated with great joy, and the young King caused his father (who didn't really deserve it) and his foster-father to be brought and loaded them with treasures. Neither did he forget the inn-keeper, but sent for him and said, "Behold, sir host, I have married the King's daughter, and your house and yard are mine." The host said, "Yes, according to justice it is so." But the young King said, "It shall be done according to mercy," and told him that he should keep his house and yard, and gave him the thousand pieces of gold as well.

And now the young King and Queen were thoroughly happy and lived in gladness together. He often went out into the town because it was a delight to him, and the faithful animals had to accompany him. In the neighbourhood, however, there was a forest (called the Wavering Wood) of which it was reported that it was haunted and that whosoever did but enter it did not easily get out again. The young King, however, had a great inclination to go in it and let the old King have no peace until he allowed him to do so. So he rode forth with a great following, and when he came to the forest, he saw a snow-white hart and said to his people, "Wait here until I return, I want to chase that beautiful creature," (Simon Snow and the Seven Hares all over again, he seems to be obsessed with these animals) and he rode into the forest after it, followed only by his animals. The attendants halted and waited until evening, but he did not return, so they rode home and told the young Queen that the young King had followed a white hart into the enchanted forest, and had not come back again. Then she was in the greatest concern about him. He, however, had still continued to ride on and on after the beautiful wild animal, and had never been able to overtake it; when he thought he was near enough to aim, he instantly saw it bound away into the far distance, and at length, it vanished altogether. And now he perceived that he had penetrated deep into the forest, and blew his horn but he received no answer, for his attendants could not hear it. And as night, too, was falling, he saw that he could not get home that day, so he dismounted from his horse, lighted himself a fire near a tree, and resolved to spend the night by it. While he was sitting by the fire, and his animals also were lying down beside him, it seemed to him that he heard a human voice. He looked around but could perceive nothing. Soon afterwards, he again heard a groan as if from above, and then he looked up, and saw an old woman sitting in the tree, who wailed unceasingly, "Oh, oh, oh, how cold I am!" Said he, "Come down, and warm thyself if thou art cold." But she said, "No, thy animals will bite me." He answered, "They will do thee no harm, old mother, do come down." She, however, was a witch, and said, "I will throw down a wand from the tree, and if thou strikest them on the back with it, they will do me no harm." Then she threw him a small wand, and he struck them with it, and instantly they lay still and were turned into stone. And when the witch was safe from the animals, she leapt down and touched him also with a wand, and changed him to stone. Thereupon she laughed and dragged him and the animals into a vault, where many more such stones already lay. (And here we have all of Simon's glory in one paragraph - a wizard beaten by a witch because he didn't expect her to be one.)

As, however, the young King did not come back at all, the Queen's anguish and care grew constantly greater. And it so happened that at this very time the other boy who had turned to the east when they separated, came into the kingdom. He had sought a situation, and had found none, and had then travelled here and there, and had made his animals dance. Then it came into his mind that he would just go and look at the knife that they had thrust in the trunk of a tree at their parting, that he might learn how his former roommate was. When he got there his roommate's side of the knife was half rusted and half bright. Then he was alarmed and thought, "A great misfortune must have befallen my Simon, but perhaps I can still save him, for half the knife is still bright." He and his animals travelled towards the west, and when he entered the gate of the town, the guard came to meet him, and asked if he was to announce him to his consort the young Queen, who had for a couple of days been in the greatest sorrow about his staying away, and was afraid he had been killed in the enchanted forest? The sentries, indeed, thought no otherwise than that he was the young King himself, for he looked nothing like him, but had wild animals running behind him. Then he saw that they were speaking of his roommate, and thought, "It will be better if I pass myself off for him, and then I can rescue him more easily." So he allowed himself to be escorted into the castle by the guard and was received with the greatest joy. The young Queen indeed thought that he was her husband (she did notice the difference but Baz is just way more interesting), and asked him why he had stayed away so long. He answered, "I had lost myself in a forest, and could not find my way out again any sooner." At night he was taken to the royal bed, but he laid a two-edged sword between him and the young Queen; she did not know what that could mean, but did not venture to ask.

He remained in the palace a couple of days, and in the meantime inquired into everything which related to the wavering wood, and at last, he said, "I must hunt there once more." The King and the young Queen wanted to persuade him not to do it, but he stood out against them and went forth with a larger following. When he had got into the forest, it fared with him as with his fellow magician; he saw a white hart and said to his people, "Stay here, and wait until I return, I want to chase the lovely wild beast," and then he rode into the forest and his animals ran after him. But he could not overtake the hart and got so deep into the forest that he was forced to pass the night there. And when he had lighted a fire, he heard someone wailing above him, "Oh, oh, oh, how cold I am!" Then he looked up, and the self-same witch was sitting in the tree. Said he, "If thou art cold, come down, little old mother, and warm thyself." She answered, "No, thy animals will bite me." But he said, "They will not hurt thee." Then she cried, "I will throw down a wand to thee, and if thou smitest them with it they will do me no harm." When the magician heard that, he had no confidence in the old woman, and said, "I will not strike my animals. Come down, or I will fetch thee." Then she cried, "What dost thou want? Thou shalt not touch me." But he replied, "If thou dost not come, I will spell thee." Said she, "Spell away, I do not fear thy words!" Then he aimed and fired at her, but the witch was proof against all regular spells, and laughed, and yelled and cried, "Thou shalt not hit me." The wizard knew what to do, thought of the most powerful spells he knew (and there were a lot of them), for against them her arts were useless, and when he fired she fell down at once with a scream. Then he set his foot on her and said, Old witch, if thou dost not instantly confess where my former roommate is, I will seize thee with both my hands and throw thee into the fire. She was in a great fright, begged for mercy and said, He and his animals lie in a vault, turned to stone. Then he compelled her to go thither with him, threatened her, and said, Old sea-cat, now shalt thou make my roommate and all the human beings lying here, alive again, or thou shalt go into the fire! She took her wand and touched the stones, and then Simon with his animals came to life again, and many others, merchants, artisans, and shepherds, arose, thanked him for their deliverance, and went to their homes. But when the two boys saw each other again, they kissed each other and rejoiced with all their hearts. Then they seized the witch, bound her and laid her on the fire, and when she was burnt, the wavering wood opened of its own accord and was light and clear, and the King's palace could be seen at about the distance of a three hours walk. Thereupon the two boys went home together, and on the way told each other their histories. And when the youngest said that he was ruler of the whole country in the King's stead, the other observed, "That I remarked very well, for when I came to the town and was taken for thee, all royal honours were paid me; the young Queen looked on me as her husband, and I had to eat at her side, and sleep in thy bed." When the other heard that, he became so jealous and angry that he drew his sword, and struck off his friend's head. But when he saw him lying there dead and saw his red blood flowing, he repented most violently: "Baz delivered me," cried he, "and I have killed him for it," and he bewailed him aloud. Then his hare came and offered to go and bring some of the roots of life, and bounded away and brought it while yet there was time, and the dead man was brought to life again and knew nothing about the wound.

After this they journeyed onwards, and the youngest said, "Thou lookest nothing like me, but hast royal apparel on as I have, and the animals follow thee as they do me; we will go in by opposite gates, and arrive at the same time from the two sides in the aged King's presence." So they separated, and at the same time came the watchmen from the one door and from the other, and announced that the young King and the animals had returned from the chase. The King said, "It is not possible, the gates lie quite a mile apart." In the meantime, however, the two boys entered the courtyard of the palace from opposite sides, and both mounted the steps. Then the King said to the daughter, "Say which is thy husband. Each of them looks exactly like the other, I cannot tell." Then she was in great distress, and could not tell for one was her real husband and the other was far more handsome; but at last the king remembered the necklace which his daughter had given to the animals, and he sought for and found her little golden clasp on the lion, and upon announcing her husband, the young Queen cried in her delight, "He who is followed by this lion is my true husband." Then the young King laughed and said, "Yes, he is the right one," and they sat down together to table, and ate and drank, and were merry. At night when the young King went to bed, his wife said, "Why hast thou for these last nights always laid a two-edged sword in our bed? I thought thou hadst a wish to kill me." Then he knew how true his former roommate had been. More importantly, he realized that his roommate had never been interested in the Queen nor in any girl because he could have held her and finally, the young King was brave enough to confess to his feelings towards his friend. That night, he left the young Queen, who was quite relieved to be left alone, and sought for his friend who slept in one of the guest rooms, which was haunted, but it didn't matter to the two boys as they were too focussed on each other that night and the nights after to notice the spirits. Soon after, the young Queen went to live in the countryside on her own for she didn't want to be Queen any longer. Baz was pronounced as Simon's spouse and therefore became king as well. They ruled the country peacefully and lived happily ever after.

#carryonchristmas #carry on #carry on christmas party #christmas with simon snow #the two brothers #fairytale #rainbow rowell #brothers grimm

[amaranthkick]

Fusion Confusion Part 7

(Part 1), (AO3)

As consciousness slowly came back to him, Shiro curled into the soft warmth to his side. He sighed happily, waking up with heart-gripping fear last night really highlighted how peaceful this morning was.

Oh, yeah, Lance offered to help him sleep after waking up last night from a nightmare. He chuckled fondly noticed Lance still cuddling him.

Shiro carefully slipped out of the loose hold without waking the other. To his amusement, Lance grumbled sleepily, weakly trying to reach out to get Shiro back. Eventually, Lance let out a huff, burying his face into the pillow, and quickly fell back into a deeper sleep.

Shiro grabbed clothes to change into deciding to let the younger sleep in while he could before they arrive at the Mutari as thanks for helping him out. He looked back at Lance. They were still stuck in each other’s bodies. Shiro’s sure he doesn’t sleep like that, his own face seem so soft and relaxed unbidden by fears or stress. He hummed to himself tucking Lance in, maybe one day, this war and the traumas the Galra put him through won’t have such a hold on him and he could have more peaceful nights like this one and be as relaxed sleeping in his own body as Lance is.

---

“Lance? Lance, wake up.” There was soft voice trying to gently coax him awake. It was also accompanied by some snickering in another voice, which was hushed by the first. “Pidge! Is that your phone? Are you taking pictures?”

“Lance loves to take lots of naps everywhere hoping to get his sleeping habit to rub off on me. I responded by embarrassing him with pictures of his bed head and sleepy faces.” Pidge was making no effort to hide her giggles.

“But Pidge, he's in my body. That's my bed head and face your getting.” He's honestly surprised and can only blink helplessly when she bluntly tells him she knows and this just means she has something on him too.

“Wha-” Shiro and Pidge turned swiftly to see Lance almost sit up, leaning heavily on one elbow and blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his other hand. His expression totally soft and the tuft of white hair fluffier than usual. He could hear the tell-tale click of a cell phone camera.

Shiro was thoroughly unamused when Pidge hid the phone before Lance became fully aware. Her canary-eating grin only served to confuse Lance.

Shiro sighed and told Lance to get ready and eat some breakfast as they were a few hours away from Mutari. They have a long day ahead of them.

Once Lance was ready and joined everyone at the control deck, he caught sight of the planet on their screens. A nice mix of white from the clouds in the air and a dusty yellow from the land covered in shifting sands. From the close range monitors he could spot some green patches from vital oases around the city.

---

It's go time. Everyone was debriefed on their mission. Mutari seemed to have willingly surrendered probably to avoid needless violence but it wasn't teeming with galra. The Galra wasn't watching them too closely or visibly oppressing the people. There were a few watch towers to take out then it'll be liberated.

The paladins were suited up and headed towards their lions. Lance caught a glimpse of Shiro wearing the black paladin armor over his body. It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Lance could admit that he thought about what it would be like to be the black paladin, the leader, someone important. He just didn't think it would happen like this.

Lance shook his head of those thoughts, he had to focus on freeing Mutari. And he could still dream.

The team split up, Keith and Shiro charged ahead on point to attack the main bases while Lance, Hunk, and Pidge picked off any stragglers avoiding causing heavy damage to the city.

It didn't go as smoothly as they hoped, some building were smashed and there was dark gray smoke rising from several fires in the city. But it seemed the townspeople were handling them.

Shiro opened his mouth to mobilize the team to help put down any immediate dangers in the city when some kind of movement drew his attention. But when he turned he was just looking at sand. Maybe it was nothing, just the wind pushing sand around. But every time he wanted to look away, he got a bad feeling in his gut. Something was down there.

Sand burst everywhere as a gigantic figure jumped out of the ground. Shiro hastily jerked back the controls of the black lion to get out of its way.

Everyone flinched at the metallic screech coming from the giant bird-like creature that had suddenly shot out of the ground seemingly awoken by their fight with the Galra. As everyone eyed the creature, the tense silence only made its slow wingbeats seem more prominent and powerful. It's body was made from some kind of rusty metal. Lance swallowed thickly as he looked over the strange ridges that ran along the wings and body, the patterns they formed looked eerily like an avian skeleton.

Keith was the first to charge in for an attack, the rust color and it's slow movements made it seem like an easy target weakened by the sands of time. But it was way faster than he thought, easily moving out of the way of his heat ray. Keith barely had any time to react as it released an amber-colored energy blast from its beak.

“Keith, look out!” The blue lion managed to get in front of the red lion before the blast hit him. Blue took the brunt of the attack smashing into the red lion sending both hurtling back. They displaced a ton of sand when they crashed into the ground.

“Keith, you ok?” Lance asked while gingerly holding his head.

He heard the red paladin groan before a pained reply, “yeah.”

Keith was about to ask for Lance's status in return but he gasped at a shockingly familiar sight. “Lance, look!”

“What is it? -- no way!” Lance watched the troublesome bird monster as the others flew around and tried to land a hit on it but was equally shocked when he turned to find a boulder-sized glowing amber crystal in front of them.

The rusty, metallic bird was a fusion!

An idea quickly taking shape in Lance's mind. He tried to move Blue but the blast really did a number on her, she was hardly responding, bursts of electricity stuttering her movements. “Hey Keith, is Red good to go?”

He saw the Red lion get back on its legs. “Yeah. What do you have in mind?”

“Well, remember in Coran’s first tests with the fusion? Destroying the crystal ended up destroying the fusion, so it should do the same for that bird. But we should draw it far away from the city first in case there's a violent explosion. I'll update the others.”

“Got it.” Keith picked up the large amber crystal in the Red lion’s mouth and took off into the air. He fired a pot shot from his lion’s tail. Of course, the bird dodged it without difficulty and turned its attention to Keith but more importantly, the amber crystal.

It screeched angrily and started to chase after the Red lion who was fast enough to keep ahead of it. Keith swerved to and fro to dodge the blasts from the metallic creature.

Hunk went down to Blue to aid Lance meanwhile Shiro and Pidge were following behind the metal bird and Keith, thrusters on full power trying to keep up. Keith tossed the crystal high into the air while still flying forward to gain some distance. The bird hovered in place waiting for the crystal to fall back down to it. Shiro, Keith, and Pidge fired all at once at the crystal, obliterating it.

There was a blinding light accompanied by an ear-splitting screech. They gasped when the light faded and they saw the skeleton of a giant bird fall along with torn-up rusty sheets of metal and wires.

---

Hunk helped tow the Blue lion back to the castle. Lance hitched a ride with him in Yellow as he rejoined the others on their way to the city which was on a rocky stable surface instead of loose sand.

Shiro thought back to the previous planet they landed on, Lance had gotten surprisingly useful info from Lamura, the local caretaker of a zoo. So he ordered Lance and Hunk to aid the scaly, dragon-esque townspeople wherever needed and keep an ear on the ground for any clues that could lead them to the ancient ruins.

Whereas he, Keith, and Pidge will meet with the queen, Mistletein. Allura was unable to get a clear explanation as to why the Mutarians surrendered. But there could be a number of reasonable explanations for that such as to keep bloodshed to a minimum or they were vastly outnumbered and that was the safest option for her people. She also noted that she seemed a bit apprehensive to meet the paladins for some reason.

Shiro hunched his shoulders unconsciously as they walked towards the main tower in the northern part of the city. It seems Lance's body was exceptional at reading others body language. Unfortunately, most of what he was seeing; narrowed eyes and tight faces gave him a gut feeling that these people were pretty suspicious of him. Although some lessened their stares and become hesitant when they didn't find what they were looking for.

---

The queen growled softly as she bowed to the paladins, the rumbling was not that she saw them as threats but to simply acknowledge them. Her polished, shiny red scales spoke volumes for her regal status. Queen Mistletein thanked them for freeing her planet from the Galra. The paladins were surprised when she expressed her concerns about the monster bird, she had no idea where it could have come from. Pidge suggested that maybe the noise from fighting the Galra woke it up.

The green paladin leaned close to Shiro whispering, “maybe this also means they aren't totally aware of the ancient civilization Coran talked about. We'll probably have to look for it ourselves with the queen’s permission.” Shiro nodded in agreement. Coran did say someone found ancient ruins but it has been 10,000 years, kingdoms would've rise and fall and clear leads on any ruins could have been lost.

Shiro glanced at Keith and found that he was glaring at the queen. He was about to tell him to stop but noticed that she was intensely staring at them too. It took all of Shiro’s restraint to keep from tensing when he could feel her intense stare drilling holes into him. Shiro raised a brow when the queen tilted her head in confusion much like some of the other citizens. “Yes? Is there something the matter, your majesty?”

She flinched, clearly caught off guard seemingly embarrassed. “I-- I apologize if this might come off as rude or offensive but is the black paladin not the… champion? You do not look like him. I just wanted to confirm some things. We've never encountered your kind before and there were rumors that the paladins are of the same people as the champion.”

Shiro recoiled eyes wide, he could hear Keith growl angrily beside him not liking the potentially bad ways this could end. He swallowed steeling himself, afraid of what he might hear but bravely going forward. “Why? How do you know about the champion?”

As they had guessed, massive ships had once invaded the sky. The sheer number of robot drones and sentries, that display of strength made it seem like a hopeless battle. The king and queen surrendered trying to avoid anything from happening to their people.

However, they didn't bow their heads in complete submission. They would try to not bend to Galra rule as much as they could without drawing significant attention. Silently resist their will.

The Galra seemed to have predicted this and to make an example them the punishment for resisting they took the king and some random citizens to be prepped for the arena. Apparently, they looked fierce enough to put on a good show against their popular champion. In a fight to the death.

“The champion killed the king and the others for the entertainment of the Empire.” The queen stated a hint of bitterness in her voice. But she seemed to have caught herself and took in a deep breath. “I am sorry. I still miss him.”

Pidge looked worriedly at Shiro who was so tense he was shaking while pointedly looking at the ground. He was obviously struggling to accept he might've killed innocent prisoners even if he had no choice. “Shiro… maybe there's a misunderstanding somewhere…” She remembered how devastated he looked when he thought he hurt Matt before his memory came back.

A heavy, awkward silence settled on top of them. Only to be broken suddenly when Hunk started yelling in their comms asking if anyone can hear him.

Hunk was panting hard trying to catch his breath as if he’s been running for some reason.

Shiro swallowed down his raging storm of emotions for now. “Hunk, deep breaths. What happened? Are you ok?”

Hunk breathlessly tried to answer, “Strangers.. fighting.. Reckless..” He slowed down, lungs no longer burning, to give a clearer answer, “They jammed our comms... started fighting us but really focused on Lance… they were reckless, bystanders were starting to get in the crossfire. Lance said to split up and find you guys or to get back into contact with you while he led the angry Mutarians to an emptier place. The jamming signal stopped and I can speak with you guys but I still can’t get into contact with Lance. I-- I think he’s in trouble.”

(Part 8)

#shance #fusion au #writings #welp sorry shiro #for indirectly hurting you #ill make it up to him by indirectly helping him in some way #also sorry for the delay #been stressing with job interviews

[yellowmechanicalcat]

fic: true in time and place

Happy Wednesday, have some fix-it fic for Shiro and Kuron with a heavy side of angst, because I like trying to make canon make sense. Takes place between Seasons 5-7. Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

True in Time and Place (part 1 of 4)

Summary: When Lance sacrificed himself for Allura, he saw someone familiar before she brought him back to life.

"You see there may be stories, apparently not consistent with each other, yet all of them true in their time and place, and so far as each actor is concerned." - Joshua Chamberlain

-

“This is all my fault,” Lance sobs over Shiro’s lifeless body, slamming his fist into the ground. It’s not a side of Lance any of them have seen before. He’s always been one to hide his deeper feelings, using jokes and sarcasm to deflect away from what’s really bothering him. It took over a year for him to trust his team enough to show even a hint of a tear at the mention of his family, even though they all knew he was homesick, because how could you not be?

It’s heartbreaking to watch Lance break down like this, but at least Shiro isn’t around to hear him. Because if he was, he’d probably feel kind of bad.

Because– well. The thing is, Lance isn’t exactly wrong.

-

Lance sacrifices himself on a mission to repair a Galra labor colony’s heat shield, throwing the Red Lion in front of a blast that would have taken out two of his (okay, fine, Red! their) favorite ladies, Blue and Princess Allura alike, and that’s the moment two realities diverge:

In one reality, he dies. This is the end of the Tale of Lance, the brave Earthborn paladin who gave himself wholeheartedly to the cause. The people will build statues that never get his nose or chin quite right. Some will tell tales of Lance the Lover while others warble ballads of Lance the Loveless, but either way he lives on as one of the most remembered martyrs of a long, long war.

In another reality, Lance closes his eyes against the bright light of an explosion and opens them to the vast, empty darkness of Space. Instead of seeing metal lion debris and oxygen leaking from a broken helmet in a cinematic disaster movie scenario kind of way, which is sort of what he’d expected, he feels something like gravity holding his feet to the ground. When he turns around, he finds the Red Lion is behind him.

“Red! Are you okay?” Lance asks.

No response, but also no particle barrier, which is good. Maybe. Red is seated with its head held high and mouth closed, its eyes dark and empty. As far as he can tell, the Lion’s offline. Getting back into the cockpit won’t be easy, but that’s a problem for Future Lance to deal with. Present Lance just has to find a way up there.

He tries his jetpacks but they’re unresponsive, so he figures he must have taken a hit. What’s weird is that the rest of his armor looks fine. Actually, as far as he can tell, there’s not a scratch on him.

He taps his helmet to activate the comms and doesn’t even get static on the line. It’s just–

Quiet.

“Guys?” Lance calls, and his voice echoes strangely through the comms, coming back to him in waves. He does his best to squash his rising panic and ends up cramming it all into a hacky sack-sized lump in the pit of his stomach. “Can you read me? Is anyone there?”

No one is there.

He breathes: in, out, repeat. It’s just him and the Red Lion, alone in this strange space with whole galaxies wheeling above his head and a pale light coming from somewhere that makes his armor glow faintly and gives him familiar vibes (quintessence? his mind whispers) and his thoughts drift to Allura’s magic; finding the Blue Lion; connecting with the others and calling for Shiro to join them, watching his silhouette flicker into view and straining to hear him saying—

“Lance?” “Shiro,” Lance murmurs, lost in memory. A beat. Then: “What are you doing here?” Lance’s breath catches. That’s not how it went. Jeez, he’s only been lost in space for, what, five minutes? and he’s already losing his mind.

He jerks his head up and is startled to see Shiro himself standing right in front of him in full armor, except that he’s missing his helmet. Shiro looks just as startled and kind of pale in the weird glowing light, although maybe startled isn’t the right word because it’s more like someone’s just walked over Shiro’s grave.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!” Lance demands shrilly. “I thought you were with Pidge!”

Shiro doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns to face the Red Lion, reaching up to put his left hand on its metal paw. The Lions are big enough that it should be like watching a tourist pose with the Sphinx but instead it’s kind of like he’s petting a cat. A really, really big cat. There’s something else about him that’s just seems kind of off, but Lance can’t place it.

Eventually, Shiro says, “No, I’ve been here.”

Something about the way he says it makes it sound almost like an apology, but that doesn’t make any sense, either. Impatiently, Lance waits for him to explain, but all Shiro does is ask more questions, still focusing on the Red Lion.

“What happened, Lance? How did you get here?” “I don’t know!” Lance snaps. “Last thing I remember was knocking Allura out of the way when the shield blew. But we’ve gotta get out of here, Shiro! Too many people are counting on us, we can’t just go and disappear on them now.”

Shiro finally looks over at him.

“I’m not going to let you disappear, Lance. I’ll get you back, I promise.”

Is there something wrong with his ears? “Me?” Lance says incredulously. “Why are you saying that like we aren’t both getting out of here? I’m not just gonna leave you here. That’s not how we roll, you know that!”

Shiro doesn’t say anything. He just looks weirdly sad, and Lance can’t shake the feeling that there’s something incredibly wrong about this whole situation.

That’s when he realizes why Shiro doesn’t look right. His hair’s different. It’s styled the way it used to be, with the shaved undercut and the narrow fringe over his forehead. When did Shiro have time to cut his hair? Lance wonders, as his stomach kicks up the hacky sack of panic again. And where is his helmet?

His gut tells him he needs some answers, so Lance asks, “Hey, Shiro? When was the last time you saw me?”

Part of him expects Shiro to make a short-tempered comment about having no time for stupid questions, Lance, you know this is a serious situation, because that’s the kind of thing Shiro does these days, but that isn’t what happens.

“The last time I saw all of you,” Shiro says easily. Lance relaxes a hair because at least that makes sense, but Shiro’s not done yet. “Voltron was trapped, and you were all working to free him. You hung around longer than the others and I tried calling to you, but…”

Lance nods and does his best to ignore the fact that his stomach’s playing hacky sack for real. “And, uh, before that?”

“… a while ago,” Shiro says.

I thought you were with Pidge!

No, I’ve been here.

“After we fought Zarkon, the Black Lion tried to save me by bringing me to the astral plane, but my body… well, it didn’t make it. So I’m still connected to Black, but that’s about it,” Shiro says.

I’ve been here.

“I don’t know how long it’s been. This place can really mess with your head, and time passes differently here,” Shiro says.

I’ve been–

“But I’m pretty sure I’m dead,” Shiro says.

He gives Lance a small smile, then pats Red with a quick double tap, and pulls his hand away as the Lion’s eyes abruptly light up a brilliant gold.

Lance gapes at them both.

“You, on the other hand, aren’t dead yet,” Shiro says just a little too cheerfully. “Neither is your Lion, looks like. Just needed a little energy boost is all, and that much I can do for you.”

That’s when the not-quite ground below their feet rumbles and Red roars deafeningly. Behind Shiro, there’s a light on the horizon that’s slowly getting brighter, and he feels the familiar rush of quintessence coming towards him. Lance! calls Allura’s voice, and she sounds– afraid? Worried? Something must be going wrong back there for her to sound like that. It’d be the easiest thing in the world to run to her now and he can feel Red urging him on.

Lance digs in his heels and stays put.

“But we found you,” he insists. “It took a while, sure, but you’ve been back for months. You’ve been flying the Black Lion. Why would you– This is crazy, I mean, I just saw you! You can’t be–”

He chokes on the word. Dead. It’s so– permanent.

Shiro tightens his jaw, and Lance can’t help noticing he looks even paler than he did before. “We look the same, but he isn’t me. That’s what I was trying to tell you last time. I think Haggar’s using him for something, but I don’t know what. I can only see him when he’s in the Black Lion, and it takes a lot out of me.”

The light’s getting brighter. Lance can barely even see Shiro anymore, just an outline of broad shoulders, the faint glow of Paladin armor. He can hear Allura calling his name again as Red growls insistently, already lumbering to its feet, and vaguely registers that Shiro’s still trying to tell him something with increasing urgency.

“–go now! Don’t– don’t worry about all that stuff I said. Just look after the team. Keep them safe. Will you do that for me?”

“But you’re part of the team too,” Lance tries to say, but he can feel himself slipping away and he’s not sure the words make it out. It’s hard to resist the familiar pull of Allura’s magic, warm and bright, just like her, but all he needs is just a little more time as he tries to draw in another breath–

“Hang on, Shiro!” Lance shouts into the void. “I’ll talk to Allura, there’s gotta be something she can do. I’ll fix this, I promise, and you won’t be alone here anymore–” and he’s babbling but he can’t help it, he doesn’t even know if Shiro can hear him, “I’ll bring you home! You’ve gotta believe me–”

-

That’s the moment another two realities diverge:

In one reality, Lance wakes up and immediately tells Allura about what happened on the astral plane, how she and Shiro saved him, how they need to get him back. It takes some time, but they manage to rescue Shiro’s soul and free the clone from Haggar’s control, setting into motion a chain of events where everything turns out fine.

But in this reality, Lance forgets. When he opens his eyes, he’s so overwhelmed by the way Allura is looking at him that he ends up saying something very obvious (and, he later laments, not smooth at all): “You saved me.” There’s something else he wants to say and it’s right on the tip of his tongue, but he’s still kind of fuzzy-headed from almost dying, so he decides that whatever it is can probably wait. It’ll be fine.

-

“I believe you, Lance,” Shiro says.

#sarah forms voltron things #shiro #lance #operation kuron #vld gen #voltron fic #vld fix it #my last queue roundup featured a lot of vld crit because it’s honestly hard to talk about Kuron (or Shiro) without being critical #but a n y w a y !!! it's high time to move on #I've had this baby kicking around my drafts for a while and figured now was as good a time as any to share #i pretty much never write angst because it is a Bummer so this little series will eventually have something close to a happy ending #inasmuch as canon allows #justice for kuron

[fraidy-farfelle]

My Most Beautiful Blade

Hey guys this is a thing I wrote a while back. Just thought I’d share it!

Marzipan awoke to her cow mooing for food. Stretching, she looked around the small, dirt floor, one room house. Suddenly, she froze. She heard scratching around the room accompanied by sniffing. “Hmm… I’ll find you…” she whispered while grabbing the old rusty knife she always kept by her bed. She waited for an opening.... “Gotcha!” she exclaimed and threw the knife. A thud signified it had hit the target. She picked up the knife and inspected the victim. An ugly brown, scraggly rat lay skewered. “Breakfast!”

She found some twigs and started a small fire to roast the rat. As she waited, she wiped the knife on her filthy deer pelt tunic. She picked up her rat-on-a-stick and pushed the cloth that served as door aside. Her cow, Brenna, was tied to a tree. The fencing she once possessed was sold to purchase her. Brenna was as sad of a sight to see as her owner, both gaunt and grime covered.

Rat gone, Marzipan picked up a bucket, squatted down, and began to milk her. Brenna made a noise of protest. “I know, but until I sell your milk, I don’t have any money for your food.” Milking done, she stood and began her walk to the market. The hot sand burned her feet and stung her skin. Even though the sun had just risen, she could see the waves of heat already rolling across the ground, and her hands were so slippery with sweat, she nearly dropped the bucket. Finally, the sand turned into cracked, beaten down cobblestones, and vendors lined the streets trying to sell their wares. ‘Oh how I wish I could buy a necklace like that!’ Marzipan thought to herself as a trader held up a rope of amethyst. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she hurried on her way.

“Ah! Marzipan!” a voice called as she approached the stand. “Morning Mister Karim! Here you are, as promised!” “That’s wonderful dear, but would you do a friend a favor?” Karim, a middle aged man with a scar across his face, was a milk seller for the city of Thebes. “Mister Karim, you took care of me when my parents died and gave me a livelihood. Speak and it shall be.” “Good. I need you to take this case of milk to Pharaoh’s palace. He’s having a feast and I fear I am too busy to deliver it.” “Yes sir” and she was off.

The pyramids towered in the distance, but she paid them no mind. “I’m on a mission.” she told herself and ran faster. It wasn’t long before the palace came into view. This time, she couldn’t help but stop for a moment. The pillars were of every color and beautiful plants grew everywhere. The servants paid her no heed as she hurried on her way, trying not to look at the paintings on the walls. She finally slowed down, and noticed a huge set of gold doors. Two muscular men were standing guard. “You! What business have you here?!” One of them shouted at her. “I’ve a delivery for tonight’s feast.” she said. “Very well.” the man advanced toward her to collect the cargo. “Wait! Sir, I heard something..” She withdrew her knife and threw it towards one of the pillars. “AAARRRGGGHHHH!” someone screamed in agony. The guards rushed to the sound. “It seems the delivery girl has found an assassin.” one of the guards said to the other. “It seems that way. You take care of him, would you? “ Leaving his companion, he approached her. “We didn’t even sense him. What is your name?” “Marzipan.” “Well, Marzipan, my name is Nekhare. I think the Pharaoh would be pleased to meet you.”  Nekhare opened the doors and led her inside.

The Pharaoh was speaking with his generals. “Sire, we are completely vulnerable to an attack here at the palace while the armies are away.” “So what is your recommendation?” “We need to appoint a personal guard for you, sire” “Sire!” A new voice interjected. “Speak, Nekhare.” “Sire, This woman found an assassin in the palace. I thought you might want to speak with her.” “That is intriguing. Tell me, lady, what say you to serving your king as a personal guard.” The Pharaoh asked her, leaning forward in his throne. “Pharaoh, I don’t believe that I am qualified. My parents passed on and I support myself by delivering milk to a vendor. How could I help you?” Marzipan said, her head hung in shame. The Pharaoh rose from his seat and walked up to her, his elaborate robes swirling about him. “You’ve already helped more than you know. So, will you help some more?” Marzipan finally looked up at him. Rather than a stern face, he looked at her kindly, searching for an answer. “I’ll do it.” she said. “Good. Get her cleaned up and dressed properly! Have a room prepared for her immediately!” The pharaoh shouted. “Wait! Brenna… my cow…” “Very well, have this ‘Brenna’ brought to the royal stable as well.” “Understood sir!” A servant girl led her away.

She was led to a bathhouse and was immediately stripped of her clothes and then dunked in the water. The servants poured soap onto her and rubbed oils into her skin. They scrubbed the dirt away and filed her nails. Three broken combs later her long brown hair hung beautifully about her. She was dressed in a white gown with a gold belt and they braided flowers into her hair.

Just then a messenger ran in. “Lady Marzipan, the Pharaoh has extended an invitation for tonight’s feast to you. He bids you come and sit at his right side.” The messenger said, kneeling in respect. “I’ve never been invited to anything, let alone a feast! What do I do?” She muttered aloud in dismay. “My lady, if I may, the Pharaoh is a kind and gracious man, and he has a good sense of humor. If you make a mistake, just laugh it off and pretend it never happened. Just relax and be yourself.” The messenger spoke again, this time looking her in the eyes. “Thank you for the advice. I shall do as you suggest.”

She was led to a grand room with a huge table made of the finest stone. Sensing her presence, the Pharaoh beckoned her to sit next to him. As she took a seat, she noticed that it was just the two of them. “People will be arriving shortly. While we wait, I think I’ll properly introduce myself. My name is Kamose, and though it is quite gratifying to be addressed as ‘sire’, ‘highness’, and ‘Pharaoh’, sometimes I wish that people would call me by my name rather than my title. Also, I believe a thank you is in order for saving my life today.” Kamose said outstretching his hand. Marzipan took it and smiled. “When we are alone, I shall call you by name, Kamose.” “Marzipan, I have taken you from what is familiar to you, and for that I apologize. If I may, what brought you here in the first place?” Kamose asked. Marzipan explained to him that her parents died and Karim had taken her in, and about the milk delivery.

“...And when I gave Nekhare the milk, I sensed something and I threw ol’ faithful here and got him.” She concluded, pulling out her old and rusty knife. Kamose laughed as he examined the knife. “A most interesting tale, Marzipan.” At that moment, People arrived by the hundreds in the room. Marzipan was too busy searching the crowd for suspicious people to actually pay attention to everything else. The whole shebang went off without a hitch and Marzipan quickly became adjusted to her new life.

The following week, Marzipan was introduced to general Imhotep, who was in charge of all of Pharaoh’s armies. “His majesty the Pharaoh has asked me to train you in the art of the sword.” Marzipan nodded, and while Imhotep thought of an appropriate drill, she surveyed her surroundings. They were currently standing in the center of the training grounds. Human training dummies were in a neat line to her left, and various animal shaped targets were strategically strewn about. Statues of the war goddesses Neith, with her proud feather headdress, and the lioness Sekhmet, darling of the sun god Ra, watched over the men who were practicing their archery and swordsmanship. The air rang with grunts and practiced war cries, and the pungent smell of sweat irritated her nostrils. The surrounding pillars that held up the ceiling bore the images of the Wadjet eye, providing protection of the troops from illness, injury, and the perils of travel. “Aha! I have it! Use that knife of yours and take the head off of that ostrich.” Imhotep said. All the other men stopped what they were doing and snickered. ‘I see how it is! They don’t want a girl in their ranks, and if I don’t do this correctly, I’ll be ridiculed straight out of the palace.’ A wicked smile graced her features and she took a stance with her knife in hand.”Oh, I’ll do better than that..” Time seemed to slow down as her body bent backward to build momentum and then sprung forward, sending the blade flying through the air. Her throw sent the knife spiraling through the air. As everyone else watched in astonishment, the knife sliced through not only the ostrich head, but a crocodile head, and a lion head. Miraculously, the force sent the lion head flying through the air and landed on the tip of Sekhmet’s kapesh. A collective gasp sounded from the training grounds. “You truly are the best among us and are worthy of the Pharaoh. ‘The Blade’ needn’t train with the likes of us here. You are more than qualified to protect our king.”

The next day, Marzipan made her way to Kamose’s private chambers. Her knock pushed the ajar door open. “That’s odd…” she decided to peek into the room. Kamose was pacing angrily about his room. As she watched, he stopped in front of the wall bearing Osiris’s image. “This is absolutely ludicrous!” He exclaimed suddenly, removing the bull tail from his belt and hurling it at the ornate carving’s face. “A fine throw, Kamose, but are you trying to bring divine wrath upon all of Egypt?” He jumped and put his hands behind him. “That’s an imperial offence, you know, spying on your king.” “So throw me down a pyramid. Now, what in the Duat has you so angry that you’re taking it out on the god of the underworld?” “The Sed festival.” “What? But I thought that was reserved for the thirtieth year of your reign!” “As did I, but just as Hatshepsut broke the tradition, my viser has also elected me to the task prematurely. I must run the ritual boundary markers and raise the djed pillar, lest my power as Pharaoh be squandered.” As Kamose groused, Marzipan noticed that the bed had not yet been made by the servants, meaning he had not left his room at all. “And have you done your morning sacrifices and prayers, O not forgetful one?” Kamose’s eyes went wide and he slowly turned to look at her triumphant smirk. “The high priests will have your head, Kamose.” He shook his index finger at her condescending tone.”Ah, ah, Ah! You forget, all knowing one, that I am the high priest for every god and goddess.” He flicked her on the nose.”Hey!” “I really should get going though, Ay is difficult to work with when he is kept waiting.” He said and left the room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” She called after him while vigorously rubbing her nose. Kamose ran back in the room and retrieved his bull tail, a symbol of his command over all the beasts of the land. “Thank you.” He said sheepishly and ran out again.   

Months later, the palace seemed unusually busy that morning. Kamose let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his temples in an attempt to ward off his impending migraine. Marzipan leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Kamose, the crowd has finally thinned out. Perhaps a walk might help you.” Gratefully, he took her hand and led her out to one of the palace’s magnificent gardens. Once they arrived, Kamose sighed again, but this time even more dramatically. Sitting on a bench beneath an imported incense tree, he removed his nemes headdress, revealing shoulder length brown locks. He tossed it aside as if it’s mere existence sickened him. “They do not give me enough credit for doing this job, Marzipan.” He fumed, resting his head in his hands. “Oh Kamose, listen to yourself. Just take a break and then you’ll feel better.” She consoled him, taking a seat beside him. “Don’t you have sword practice now?” Kamose asked. “Oh, I passed that weeks ago. They don’t call me ‘The Blade’ for nothing.” “That reminds me! Here.” Kamose reached into his robes and presented her with a package. Intrigued, she ripped the brown paper. Now in her hands was a golden dagger, inlaid with precious stones. “Wow! This is amazing! But why are you giving this to me?” Kamose grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Because I need to tell you something. You’re not just “The Blade.” You are my most beautiful blade.”

#fanfic #facfiction #egypt #egypt fiction