#resident evil men *everyone claps*

[leonslutkennedyy]

I think Chris would have gone through an alpha male phase

#resident evil biohazard #resident evil #resident evil 8 village #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil 6 #resident evil 5 #resident evil 1 #resident evil code veronica #resident evil revelations #chris redfield #resident evil memes #re8 chris redfield #resident evil men *everyone claps*

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Twenty Two

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

For a long, quiet moment, everyone else continued to stare at Ethan; his eyes fluttered open, then closed-still black, with the clear etches of dark veins around his neck and lips.  Karl in particular remained focused on the blond, after exchanging a look with his twin.  Finally Ethan opened his eyes and sighed as color began to slowly return to his skin and eyes.  His gaze panned between Mia, who looked horrified, and the man he knew as Jochen.  

Jochen’s perturbed stare lingered a moment longer, and then his face broke into a wide grin.  His smile was toothy, and without the beard that Karl had to obstruct his mouth, downright joy was visible, etched across his face.  Jochen’s green irises flowed over the blond in a sort of admiration.  To Karl and Ethan’s relief, he laughed uproariously.  

Ethan exhaled a sigh of relief, but said in warning, “Make it quick, she’s strong here.  She’ll be back before you know it, she’ll be able to feel us.”  He had some of her blood spatter across his cheek, and Ethan wiped his jacket across his face.  

He hoped the pair heard his warning; Jochen nearly tackled Karl in a very bear-like hug.  Equally relieving was seeing Karl return the gesture, dropping his hammer.  The twins embraced, both touching the other’s face, laughing, throwing German words back and forth.  Karl’s hat fell back against his shoulders as his twin shook him, and Jochen ran his hand through the greying strands.  

Ethan was staring at Mia in a way he hoped was reassuring, but she still looked terrified, lost, confused.  Would she even remember him?  He knew how Miranda loved her little ‘cognitive’ adjustments, and had written about performing them on cadou subjects.  Clearly, she was at least attempting to exert control over Karl’s brother, so Ethan had no doubts the same applied to Mia.  

Anyone in Miranda’s circle would be forced into obedience.  

While the two exchanged their glances, Karl was speaking to Jochen.  

“The dreams?” 

“Real.  Me.”

“And what you said–”

“Is true.  Speak of it no more, she cannot know.” 

Karl nodded and pulled his brother into another hug, dropping his forehead onto the other’s shoulder.  Seconds more they embraced, before stepping back–there was a sense of urgency, knowing that Miranda would likely soon return.  As she’d told Ethan–he couldn’t kill her in a way that mattered.  Well, not yet, anyway. 

Jochen stepped up to Ethan and clapped him on the back, pulling him into a hug.  Despite the veil between their realities, Ethan could feel him–he was almost human.  No wonder Miranda had gone mad while being in the cave, this power was palpable, intoxicating.   She had probably planned on having Eva back in her arms in a matter of days or weeks.  He could even smell the other man; damp earth, fresh flowers.  Ethan returned the hug awkwardly.  

Jochen looked, if possible, embarrassed.  “Sorry about the–uh…” he made a jabbing motion with his hand, and Ethan rolled his eyes.  

“You weren’t the first, don’t worry,” he grumbled.  Karl scoffed.  

“I will try English,” the twin said, stepping back and tossing his auburn strands away from his face.  “So you both know.”  He gave a wink toward Mia, who was still standing far from the group; she did not look amused.  Jochen’s green eyes danced between the two men as he fumbled over his words.  

“I was…dormant for years.  She took me, after you were sent away to school, Karl.  I don’t know what happened, that was so long ago.  At first she had me working for her, at first she promised a new body for me.  I was exploring the realms for her, she used to have servants who did this, seeking Eva.  But I kept running away, trying to find a way back to this world.  I did things she didn’t like.  I did not want to work with her.  For years.  So, she punished me.  She put me….” he trailed off, needing English words. 

“She crystallized you,” Ethan guessed, and the other nodded emphatically.  

“I was in a mental prison,” he finished with an exhale, “until she re-awoke me.  After her death.  She has us working to find those parts of the Lords that will help her revive, gain an earthly body.  The flasks that make the crystal: an imprint in our world.  In her case, an elevator up to you.” 

Both Karl and Ethan nodded at this.  It was clear that Karl wanted to say more.  But he bit his lip instead, watching as Mia and Jochen both flickered in and out of view.  With Miranda gone, they seemed less able to regulate their presence over time.  Ethan tried a question.  

“Is she using mind control on you?  She’s going to be back any minute, I can feel her, by the way.”  

“With varying success,” he chortled, and shrugged at Mia.  Mia, however, looked confused.  A thought occurred to Jochen and he nodded at Karl.  “Watch out–she intends for me to hurt you.” 

“As if you could,” Karl responded smugly, holding his hand out for the hammer, which met it.  His brother rolled his eyes, making a loud noise of disgust, but followed suit and held the two-handed blade up again.  

“I love you, brother,” the mold-twin muttered in Karl’s deep voice, and Karl nodded back, a look of longing returning to his face as he clapped the hat on his head.  He seemed too choked up for words, his jaw ticking.  Jochen smiled reassuringly, and gave him another wink.  

In turn, Karl turned to Ethan, nodding toward Mia.  Ethan nodded back; he could speak to her, now that they’d cleared up at least part of tonight’s mystery.  Jochen watched Ethan walk across the grass before meeting his brother’s eyes, relishing their last few moments of peace before Miranda returned. 

Ethan moved toward Mia, ignoring the garishly obvious spot of black void that was opening up across the clearing, near where Miranda had sat when she first appeared.  He had no problem repeating the maneuver he’d just performed if it meant more minutes of peace, but Ethan could already guess that Miranda wanted to use Mia to taunt or bargain, and would probably only intervene vocally.  Unless, of course, he’d pissed her off, but she couldn’t be surprised by what he’d done.  

“Mia,” Ethan tried, ignoring the tendrils of mold by the makeshift throne, knowing they would soon be a Miranda.  “It’s me, Ethan.” 

She stared, eyes still full of panic, and he held out a hand.  Hesitantly she took his, and he felt her.  Like a chalkboard, streaked, full of dust marks, but the writing worn away.  Or a puzzle, dumped pieces scattered across darkness with no meaning.  

Ethan exhaled; she was a chipped, cracked vessel.  Incomplete.  Before he realized it, a transfer of memories flowed from him, to her.  Mia’s eyes remained focused on Ethan, and soon they lit up in remembrance.  Ethan smiled, trying very hard to look comforting, but he was covered in mold and blood, and grey veins still throbbed under the surface of his skin in this place where he had more power.  

The Heisenberg twin must have gotten the order to attack his brother, because he yelped something and lifted the sword.  Ethan heard the clang of metal, felt the pull of a magnetic field, and turned away from the pair.  He knew firsthand how difficult it was to be made to fight someone you loved, and not have a choice to stop.  It was torture.  But the men both spoke while they sparred, trading what Ethan could only assume were German curses or insults, as they both laughed and jeered.  

Ethan was an only child, but that seemed to track with everything he’d witnessed about siblings.  

“Ethan,” Mia began, shaking her head, looking overwhelmed.  “I don’t know what to do, I can’t–”

“It’s all right,” he began.  “Everything’s all right.  I’ve got this, okay?” 

He heard the reassuring words…was it him?  Was it the Mold?  He was disgusted, but he gave her the soft smile anyway, the one that had appeased so many arguments in the past.  He wouldn’t let her be afraid, he’d decided–not if he could help it.  

Miranda was now approaching them with a fiery glare.  He held tightly onto Mia’s hand, but she tried to shrink away when the older woman appeared.  When Mia’s face turned to a grimace, Miranda ran a hand over the black strands–again, treating her almost like a dog.  

To Ethan, she sighed, “You truly are a pest, Ethan.  How many times are we going to do this dance, have this conversation?  We cannot die, and I have what you want.”  She ran her hand down Mia’s arm. “And your powers are coming along…you and your daughter are perhaps the only success to come of the Eveline experiments.”  Her smirk was sly, as though she were proud of him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of using people?”  Ethan snapped, tightening his grip on Mia’s hand.  She squeezed back.  “Making people your puppets, forcing them to obey you?  Doesn’t that get old?”

“You miss the point.”  She was now threading her fingers through Mia’s locks.  “I find joy in the domestication.  Look at Heisenberg–a wild boy, unruly.  He may not have liked it, but he did my work for years.  And he has fight, like his brother.”  She turned to survey the pair of men, who were still giving their all nearby, throwing insults just as rapidly as their weapons. 

“This one, I did enjoy for some time,” Miranda said, motioning to Mia.  “I would have considered her a part of my family as well–after all, she is important.  But a broken mind spoils even the best, most docile, servants to my cause.” 

“You’re the one with the broken mind,” he snapped.  “Let Mia go.” 

She began talking again, but Ethan met Mia’s gaze.  

Does she have your consciousness stored? A crystal, somewhere.

Mia’s eyes widened, and Ethan saw a place, oddly familiar, though he’d never been there.  He knew it instantly.  Miranda’s lab.  On a table piled high with diagrams and research sat a purple-blue gem.  It reminded Ethan instantly of Eveline’s crystal.  Behind the table he saw the foreboding door of a cell. 

Prison after prison. 

Trapped, trapped more. 

Again and again.

She’s moody.

If we behave, we get to come out. 

If we are bad, our bodies go away, we are stuck. 

The thoughts were rapid, fractured.  Likely her mind had been ‘restructured’ more than once, a fate that Ethan knew Donna also endured.  Goddammit.  

When he finally broke Mia’s gaze, Ethan’s heart dropped.  Miranda was staring at them both, a new expression across her face.  Delight.  Shock.  Her mouth opened, and she narrowed her light eyes.  “My, your powers are a sight to behold.  You’re a natural, Ethan.  What has changed you?”  The look on Miranda’s face was almost one of lust, he realized. 

Ethan turned to face her directly, happy to enter Miranda’s mind just as readily as he’d entered Mia’s.  She anticipated this, it seemed, and snapped a finger.  Jochen finally ceased in his fruitless efforts toward his brother.  Instead he reappeared at Miranda’s side, short of breath.  With her eyes still on Ethan, she gave him a sharp command in Romanian.  Ethan didn’t follow, and trying to calculate or decipher Miranda’s thoughts proved futile.  She smiled again as Jochen disappeared, flickering out of existence with a skeptical look etched on his very Karl-like face.  

“You will not find me as easy to read as your feeble-minded friends.” 

“What are you doing?  Just let her go.”  

When Jochen reappeared, he had the crystal that Ethan saw in the laboratory.  He stared at it, and then the guarded look on the man’s face.  He looked apologetic, an expression that Miranda didn’t miss as she gently took the glittering rock from his hand.  “Don’t look so pathetic,” she snapped, “Or you’ll be next.” 

Not back in there.  No, I can’t.  Not again. 

Mia was whimpering; Ethan tried to pull her in, comfort her, but she wouldn’t let him.  Karl was now approaching, stalking toward the group with his hammer at his side.  He had a bloody nose and several new cuts across his chest, but looked ready and eager to keep the battle going.  He paused at the sight of Miranda with the crystal, and Ethan knew that Karl, like himself, was trying to calculate the best way to take it from her. 

“You had your chance, Ethan,” Miranda said in a rather disappointed voice, and now Ethan turned to Mia, taking both of her hands in his.  

“It’s okay.  I’ll find you again.  Always will, all right?  She can put you in there a million times, I’ll–”

He didn’t know if this frantic consoling was having any effect, because Mia was crying silently.  She whispered something as Miranda shifted her grip on the crystal.  Ethan leaned in.  “Rose.  I remember Rose.  Is she okay?”

“She’s doing great,” Ethan encouraged.  “You’ll be outta here soon, you can see for yourself, okay?  I promise. She’s so smart.  She loves nature.  She has a pet goat.” 

This was the first thing he’d said that brought a smile to her lips, and she sobbed through tears. 

Miranda did something unexpected.  

Ethan had watched many people crystallize over the last few years; Mia, Zoe, Eveline, all the Lords, and others in the village.  According to Karl, he himself had crystallized when he died, making his own resurrection possible.  

The process was the same; skin turned pale, grey, and then hardened, calcified.  In some cases, fell apart, in other cases, they held their shape.  When Eveline voluntarily gave up her body, and when he’d pulled the Bakers’ consciousnesses from his own body, the spiky crystals moved and shifted as though alive themselves before settling.   

He expected something similar to happen with Mia’s body as he continued speaking, trying to comfort her.  Miranda was partially transformed.  Her body elongated, her skin turned to a sickly pallor and the Mold crept around her body to shield her eyes.  She was crushing the crystal where Mia’s consciousness was stored, and Mia screamed in pain.  Instead of crystallizing, she simply began to fade away, black sparks firing around the places where Ethan held her.  

“Mia, no!” 

He wanted to let her go, grab the crystal somehow, but when Ethan tore his gaze from his fading, screaming wife, Miranda held only fragments in her elongated claws.  She laughed hysterically in her half-mutated form, wings exploding from her back and showering the field with feathers.  Jochen ducked away from this unexpected, unwelcome surprise, and then his gaze conveyed nothing but shock as he, too, stared at the empty spot where Mia had been.    

He was not as stoic as Karl; the latter’s expression was mostly impassive.  Karl had likely seen far more horrors and death thanks to Miranda than his trapped sibling.  But the subtle raise of his brows and the hesitancy in his step still spoke to his disbelief.  Had Miranda just….killed Mia? Destroyed the last fragment of her stored consciousness?  

Miranda was almost fully mutated and now she dropped the dust to the ground, spinning and hiding in the inky flurry of wings.  Ethan turned back to where she had been; Mia was gone.  All that remained were his two hands, trembling, in front of him. Wet from the rain, dirty from the slime of mold, and Miranda’s blood.  He wanted to put them into fists, but Ethan instead dropped the pale digits to his side.  

“That’s enough,” Karl said in a choked voice, and the hammer was already spinning.  Jochen took the opportunity to blink out of sight, and so did Miranda as her ethereal form left the connection of the Mold to ground.  A connection that Karl was about to rip away with electromagnetism.  

Ethan stared up at the empty, raining sky where Miranda had disappeared.  She was drunk on death and power; he could feel it.  When he spun on his heel mutely, Karl’s growing, expanding magnetic field closed him in.  He focused his gaze on the faraway lights of the mansion on the hill, above the cliffs. 

“Ethan,” Karl breathed, his voice metallic.  When the blond turned to meet his gaze, Karl’s eyes were not yellow, but silvery, and his skin took on the glow as well.  Despite how ferocious he looked, his expression was laced with concern.  The hammer glowed orange in his hands. 

“Rose is crying.”  Ethan’s voice was hollow.  Karl didn’t ask how Ethan could possibly hear or know that from here, but he nodded, and as he swung the hammer back, ready to yank the now-magnetized fibers from their carpet of stone and earth, Ethan flickered out of sight, leaving the engineer alone in the rainy field.  

#karl heisenberg #ethan winters #wintersberg #heisenwinters #mother miranda

[yostresswritinggirl]

Alatus' Weakness

Even the strongest, mightiest men carry with them their ultimate weakness. And when it is under the wrong hands, their power won't be enough to prevent them from crumbling... What is it? What was it that the Evil God took hold of that forced him to serve his evil deeds for years?

Pairings -> Alatus x Reader (Xiao)

Word Count -> 1350

Themes -> You won't find happiness here.

Series -> #SojournerSpecials (600 Followers Event)

Warnings -> This is punishment for Xiao forcing me to whale for him. As well as the Oceanid anons. (EDIT: THIS HAS MADE PEOPLE CRY, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

The Yaksha of the wind dances in fluid whirlwinds as the breeze makes its rounds over the plains, his lightness barely wrinkles the green grass underneath his uncovered feet as the robes he dons flutters behind him.

It was so beautiful, he looked so ethereal.

And when his spear finally settles in a sharp swing, the force manifests into harmless gusts that sweeps the pasture for a second before straightening up again. Alatus had always been an agile dancer. And everyone in the village knows of this.

He offers a slight bow and a smile upon your loud clapping, so giddy of the exclusive performance that you were lucky to witness. It was a treasure that every local wishes to see beyond the battles he fights. Men and women alike yet out of them all it was you who was graced with this blessing.

"Beautiful as always, Alatus!" Your wide smile was infectious and his grin grows the closer he comes to you, arms finding its way around your waist and across your back in a soft hug. The giddiness continues as you turned into a giggly mess from his special affection, reciprocating with a tackle of a hug.

"Did you miss me that much?" He was answered by wordless nuzzles to his chest, making him chuckle and pull you closer.

Alatus was a great and powerful spear dancer, and he had been protecting the village you two reside in ever since. Gods and beings trekked the world commonly and it was too dangerous even for stationary communities. More so for those who lack the Vision to fight in the first place.

He was one, if not the only one capable enough to protect everyone. And many times he would go beyond the parameter to exterminate threats before they became an issue. Most of the time he disappears for a while during this expedition and then return triumphant as the village people greet him and praise him for his hardwork.

But at the end of the day, he settles down in your quiet home where he engulfs you protectively in his arms. There you two would exchange your tales during the span of his expedition, and he would indulge you in a showcase of his dances as compensation for his absence. The highlight of your day.

"There seems to be higher activity in the surrounding territories regarding monsters and Gods," he introduces the topic as he picks up the nian gao with wooden chopsticks, munching the soft treat as you poured a cup of tea to match the snack. "The other villages are asking me to patrol their parameters for a few days to at least clear some of them."

"There's been disturbances around here too," you worriedly chewed at your own snack as you two sat by the veranda of your home, watching the whole of the village from your spot over the cliff. This must be one of the reasons he liked staying here too, an easy access and overseer to the whole area for his duties.

Alatus hums in agreement but continues eating. The way he chews his meal was a telltale sign that there's a worry gnawing at the back of his head. And you had the same worry, except much lighter than his.

The growing tension between the Gods of Teyvat spurs on more turmoil at the news of Celestia's sudden challenge over the archons. And with such offers and desperation, powerless humans and villages had been wiped recently courtesy of the war.

It was a matter that didn't really bother him nor the village, but somehow it came back to him tenfold in multitudes of worry. He has a gut feeling. But Alatus cannot make himself turn away from the pleas of the people that call his name for saving grace.

"Come home soon," your smile snapped him back to reality upon knowing that he wouldn't just leave the other villages behind.

Yet when he left, there was still a gnawing anxiety at the bottom of his stomach.

Alatus for once... had lost his grace for in his hand his spear shakes in unspeakable fear. In front of him beyond the cliff's edge is the blazing ruins of a village he protected for years, day and night diligently. Monsters and men ravaged what's left and he tries to push away the guilt of ignoring them when he rushed immediately to his home.

To where his home should be.

"Alatus," the towering figure turned around to face him and his pupils dilated at the image, muscles flexing to dash when its hand raises in a motion to stop him, tutting mockingly at the warning. "Ah, ah, you wouldn't want them to die like this, would you?"

The being of pure evil had your unconscious form in its arms, a fight evident on your bruised and cut form as blood trickles from your forehead to the earth beneath. And on your head, the source of the wound, is a crown of thorns. He fights the urge to cry and vomit at the state you were in, at the state he could have prevented if he'd just STAYED.

"Please," his broken voice ghosted a smile on the God's face, "Please leave them alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Alatus' heart sinks at the refusal with his gaze unfocusing at the difference in power. "After all, they're the one I wanted in the first place, everyone else is just collateral damage."

From that point forward, to preserve the little life force you have, Alatus was under the grasp of the evil god. Under his command he razes the villages he once protected, eating the dreams of the humans that only wish to live in peace. His hands of grace grips his spear with the stains of blood as he kneels in front of the evil God, its name he didn't bother to remember anymore at this point.

It smirks at him while over its hand floats a cube only a few inches bigger. Your cell, where you're cooped up with only a glow of deep blue indicating your existence within it. When he misbehaves he hears cries of agony from it, when he does very satisfactory he even gets to hold it but only that.

The years of painful service had wiped off his smile and most of his memories. Alatus had already forgotten your voice and your face at this point, only the humans and beings he had killed comes to his memories.

Soon after, he has only known the cube to hold something dear to him, a weakness that is a precious one he could not risk. When he tries to remember, he's reminded of a vague visage and a sweet taste on his tongue. If he could cry now he would. It was one of the only good things in his mind now even tho its details continue to ebb away with his horrific deeds.

And finally, like a light that shines through the canopy of the overhead trees, a being mighty enough to contend his evil master comes down to end his suffering.

Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon, the one the evil god desperately tries to overthrow died in his hands.

It is done, all of it. No more innocent blood should stain his hands. "The cube this god possessed is a cell." What should he do now? There was no other place to come back to, maybe the You that resides in the cube had any ideas, to start over. That sounds like a good idea.

"Alatus, was it?" His head slowly picks up from the blank stare it had on the ground.

"Yes, Rex Lapis?"

"Do you know of the one who resides within this cube?" There was a hesitance in Rex Lapis' voice that passed through him.

"They are someone that I know."

"It seems... that human... has perished 200 years ago in this cell."

Alatus, like that last day in a ruined village, had lost his grace when he collapses to the ground. His weakness and his hope both gone.

Seems to me my writing has been short lately

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @kookieyachi @struggljng @bunniesrorange @anormalguyreader

#genshin impact #Xiao #genshin impact x reader #Xiao x reader #exile.flower #sojourner specials #Angst #gender neutral #for the first time I am sorry #genshin impact oneshot #welcome home Xiao :))

[leggomylino]

Sunrise | Hwang Hyunjin

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Comedy

AU: Beauty and the Beast au

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: ~26k

Warning(s): Minorly dark themes, vague mentions of suicide, sparse censored language

A/N: It’s finally done! <3 | For Kumi, my dear friend. <3

Playlist:

Lighthouse → Hope

forever rain → RM

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ (let me know if you want to be added!)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ 

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

| Zero ❧

It was no lie that Hwang Hyunjin was what he was. A monster. A crook. A fiend. 

But had that been his fault? No. Had it been his intention to piss off the old hag who showed up at his doorstep looking for shelter, who also happened to be a witch?

...Well, yes, technically. But in his defense, he hadn’t known she’d been a witch. He just assumed she was another ex-royal his father’s company had put out of business, bankrupt and seeking reconciliation. Another pawn knocked off the chess board. 

So then was any of this really his fault? 

Not in the slightest.

Late November was when colorful bouts of leaves piled in the corners and around the front doors of Everain Palace, when icy winds took hold from north arctic fronts and chilled all those who inhabited it to the bone, or at least, those unfortunate enough to end up imprisoned in the steely corridors below. Dank, gray shadows fell over the surrounding dark atmosphere of the cold stone walls, seeping in elongated coverage that fell over the once festering city of New Amber, now reduced to nothing but a sickly small town until the return of the harvest season. If anyone even bothered coming back.

It was no secret why no one ever wanted to come back. Everyone knew about the curse. Rumors spread fast, and as the head of his father’s company Hyunjin couldn’t hide his scarred face forever. Afraid of becoming infected, afraid it would spread, half of the town vanished within the first few days. Another half of what was left disappeared over the course of the following two weeks, and the number of residents continued to dwindle even after that, until Hyunjin couldn’t even tell you how many remained as of today, six years later. Ten, maybe twelve royals, some small groups of peasants temporarily settling in until they too were told about the curse, and the dark secrets of the young man who lived beyond its walls.

He was once beautiful until he ticked off the wrong old lady. Now he lives out his days staring at a reflection of who he once was.

The part he hated the most was that he couldn’t deny it was the truth.

“Mirror!” he called, clapping his hands once, twice, three times. “Where is my mirror?! Where the hell did you put it this time?!?”

Begrudgingly with a sigh a shadow cascaded down along the stone wall, manifesting into something three-dimensional only a moment later. Blue hair fluttered softly around smooth, rounded features, a lone earring sparkling faintly in the pale moonlight, accentuating ripped jeans and the confines of a pitch-black hoodie. 

The whole ensemble was tacky and incredibly outdated. “Here…” His shadow said, holding out the small ornate mirror. His contractor grabbed it with anxious greedy hands, claws already beginning to form far too early thanks to the autumn equinox.

He paced away eagerly, collapsing to his corner of comforting feather downs and soft silk sheets, as he stared at a reflection of who he once was, who he used to be. How he would look today had he just pretended not to be home that ill-fated night.

“Jisung!” He barked, glaring angrily over his shoulder. “Come here.”

The boy-shadow sighed once more, nodding slowly as he had no right to refuse the man who had complete control over him. So he slowly sulked over toward the bed, shimmering at the seams as he passed through the inanimate threshold like a waking dream. Carefully his edges began to dissolve, bit by bit, until nothing but a faint air of smoke remained, settling dispersedly around the dim-lit bedroom.

Hyunjin never took his eyes off his past-in-the-present self, who only stared back at him with vacant, mournful eyes. “Show her to me.” he demanded, gently leaning a few inches forward. “Where is she?”

With careful swirls like a rippling tide the mirror faltered, spiraling and transforming the glass picture until the prince’s face was gone, the image of a girl taking his place.

Then another one. Then another one…

The mirror suddenly cracked. His hands tightened around the steel handle, a low growl resonating from behind parted lips curled up in a snarl.

“I’m sorry…” the mirror muttered, Jisung suddenly appearing out of the cracks to stand before him. “She’s still not here. I don’t know what you want me to do abo--”

“I don’t want you to do anything!” Hyunjin snapped, throwing down the mirror and shattering it into a million more pieces. “I just want her here! What’s taking her so long? Where is she?!”

“I--” Jisung winced as a few stray shards transpired through him, the feeling still foreign even after all these years and past mirrors similarly broken. “...I think these things just take time--”

“Time?! TIME?!?” Hyunjin was beyond livid. The moment he stood his servant shrunk back, nearly folding himself into the safe confinements of the old chiseled walls. “Time is something I don’t have. You know this, Jisung. If this goes on any longer I’ll…” His voice trailed off and he gulped, snatching a fistful of hair in his sharp dark claws. “...Why isn’t she here yet? What are you not telling me?”

“Telling you? Wha--”

“Shut up and answer me!” He demanded, slamming the boy against the wall. The poor guy would have sunken through had he, again, not been under such a binding spell. Instead the only thing he could do was resentfully comply, doing all he could to spitefully avoid eye contact. 

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know--”

“You’re working with her, aren’t you?” Hyunjin continued with narrowed eyes. He began to shake him, tightening his chokehold around the boy’s throat. 

Jisung gasped a bit, nails gritting against the echoing stone walls. “I-I really don’...” He tried to choke out. “...I really don’t know. I swear. Honest.”

“Lies.”

The tightening intensified. Jisung felt like he was nearly going to burst.

That’s when he’d gotten the idea.

“Y-You’re right! I lied! I know where she is!”

The moment he was let go Jisung gasped for breath, grateful as the heavy sinking feeling of doom left his vacant bones. Hyunjin blinked once, twice before narrowing his eyes again, taking a careful step back. 

“...I knew you were lying to me. Where is she?”

After holding up his hand for breath, his shadow slowly looked up from his knees, straightening and readjusting his strange, stretchy cufflinks of the hooded cloak he wore. “She’s lying dormant somewhere. I can get her for you.”

“Where?”

“Under...erm,” He awkwardly coughed. “...O-Over that way...out yonder.” 

Hyunjin didn’t seem very keen on the way his servant waved his hand dismissively in the random direction of “out yonder”; but it was a risk he was willing to take. He was desperate. Three more days and...and…

“Fine,” he answered at last, lavishly turning his cape away from him to pace towards the half-opened window. “You have until sunrise to bring her to me. I won’t wait a moment longer.”

“Wha?! But she--”

“Fine! Twenty-four hours. And you better return with the right one, or else.”

He gave a precise gaze over the slender curve of his princely shoulders, and that was all it took for his shadow to sink out of sight into the folds of stone-pressed cement below, the clouds blotting out the last rays of moonlight around them.

| One ❧

“Y/n~ Y/n, hurry up!! C’mon, we’re gonna be late!!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming…”

Your friend Rei ran another ten yards ahead, impatiently stopping for the umpteenth time for your slow-leisurely pace to match up. “Uuuugh, c’mon already!”

“I said I’m coming…!”

...Sheesh. 

Autumn season. It was the time when the leaves changed their colors, one final requiem of individuality before fluttering away in the cool breeze, carried off somewhere to decompose and fall victim to the circle of life. It was also the time you and your friend Reiya, who you casually referred to as just Rei, spent all hours of the short-lived days travelling from village to town, in order to sell the wares of your fathers’ goods. They were both merchants, you see; it’s how the two of you had met, many years ago. But they were old now, the circle of life creeping up on them as well, and since all the men in your town were either taken or losers not worth your time, each of you vowed to take over the family business, carrying it wherever the wind decided.

...And anyway, neither of you were interested in the prospects of marriage; being tied down? And taking orders from some mustached buffoon? ...No thanks. It’s not that you hated the idea of settling down, just...not in your town. Not at your age. Not yet.

This way, things worked out well-- you and Rei got to travel the continent, avoiding arranged marriage and spending time in each other’s company selling your fathers’ wares and in turn, helping them out. They were free to enjoy a peaceful retirement while you added memories of wondrous places and escaped the evil clutches of a life tied down to a broomstick and a kitchen stove. It was perfect.

...Except for days like now, when you’d both woken up late and were at risk of losing a good place to set up shop. Your bad this time.

“Hurry up!!” Rei whined, doing her famous one-tap-two-step-hurry-up dance. The balls of her slippered feet hardly touched the stone pavement of the path leading to the city, her arms flapping like a chicken as she readjusted the triple-stacked backpack of goods from falling off her bony shoulders. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!!”

“I told you, I’m coming!” You groaned, having been stuck with cart duty. It may have been nearly empty, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Normally it took two people to steer, in addition to horsepower by your trusted steed, Carrots, but unfortunately…

Carrots had too many carrots last night. And she wasn’t doing so well. 

It wasn’t serious, but it would be at least another few hours before she got it out of her system, so this blissfully unfortunate morning it was you and Rei having to wing it...with you having pulled the short end of the stick.

“Nnnneiiigh,” Carrots groaned from behind you. You gave her a gentle pat while trying your best to nudge the cart over the last hill. 

“It’s alright, girl. We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

She let out a whine, almost seeming to nod in understanding.

“Ahh, hurry!” Rei called again, making haste for the city gate’s checkpoint line. All merchants and traveling businessmen (or women) were required to have their items evaluated and checked by city officials before being licensed a temporary warrant to sell.

When you made it to the top of the hill, already out of breath, you deflated-- then just about fell over when you saw how long the line was.

Oh man. This is all my fault. We shouldn’t have stayed up so late…

“You look like you could use a hand.”

You turned around to find a tall...ish, slender boy, with hair the color of chocolate and big, round eyes to match. A single silver earring hung from his right ear. “Oh, uh, that’s okay…”

“...Han,” he clarified, gripping one side of the cart. “Han Jisung. Just let me handle this. You should probably go help your friend; she looks like she’s about to fall over.”

You peered around the other side of the small wagon to see that, indeed, Rei was playing a game of balance, swaying a bit too far this way and that as she wobbled on flat calloused feet toward the back of the long line. But you? Leaving your father’s shop in a stranger’s hands? Even if it was in a populated area, and he did seem genuine…

“That’s okay.” You told him, grabbing tighter onto your side. “I can take it myself, I’m used to it. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“...” He blinked at you a moment, doing nothing at all but staring. Just when you were considering calling for Rei to come back, though, he laid off, tossing smooth hands in the air before shoving them in the front pocket of the strange cloak he wore. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. If you insist, I’ll be on my way.”

He let go, and you felt the full weight of the cart pull your body downward, gravity affecting you in the worst way. ...Maybe…

“Um, hold on!” You shouted, and he stopped a quarter of the way down the hill, glancing up at you expectantly from over his left shoulder. Curse him. “Yeah?”

“...” You set your pride and suspicions aside. “...It would actually...well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to help. Just to the base of the hill.”

His eyes did the smiling for him, and was back at your side in seconds, taking the right flank while you managed Carrots and the left.

“Mind if I ask you something?” He pipped just steps later, eyes peering at you from over the cart as he jumped like a small puppy trying to see over a counter space. You groaned.

“I suppose I have no choice, so, sure. What is it?”

“Well…” He was beginning to mumble. “I know this may seem kind of sudden but, I have this...friend…”

“No.”

“Huh?”

The cart stopped rolling, delaying your schedule that much farther. “If this is headed where I think it is, I’m sorry but, I’m not interested. I’m very busy and I don’t have time for...love. Or a relationship. Other than the one I share with my customers.”

“Oh! No, no! Hahah…” Han had let go of the cart as well, scratching his cheek. “I-It’s not that! Nothing like that...I…”

His explanation was cut off by your sudden gasp, lunging forward to grab the cart as it started to descend down the steep slope. But it was too late; it slipped out of your grip like butter in a frying pan. “Oh no!”

The cart raced down the hill, gaining momentum and speed the farther it went. Crowds of people gasped as well, jumping and throwing themselves out of the speeding wagon’s path, until…

It reached the bottom, but it kept going. And it was headed right for Rei. 

Horror-stricken, you jolted, racing down whilst cupping your lips to scream out a warning call. “Rei! Look out!!”

Rei turned around. Her eyes widened.

But she remained unscathed. In the blink of an eye something dark and ink-like had raced over the pavement and grass fields; it manifested beneath the wheels, and the cart just...stopped.

“Rei!!” You cried, letting go of Carrots to plunder to her side. She’d fainted, but Han was there to catch her.

Han…

You stared him down nervously from the other side. “...How did you get here so fast?”

He carried your friend to the shade of the forest surrounding the city walls, others whispering and already beginning to spread gossip. You tried to block it out and ignore the intense stares and glaring from eighty-or-so business-competitors, following Rei’s limp body and coming to rest beside it, pulling her head into your lap. 

Though you were out of earshot, the whispering and curious eyes still followed you; so not good for business.

“Hey. I asked you something,” you said again, making sure to keep one eye on him, and one on the cart. “How did you get down there before I did? I didn’t even see you move.”

The strange boy didn’t say anything, save for laughing a bit. He then proceeded to ask you the oddest thing: “A man, or a beast...do you think we have a choice? On what we want to be?”

“What?” Your brow furrowed to form one solid unibrow. “Don’t ignore me. I asked you first. How did you get down there so quickly?”

Still, he refused to answer. “Technically, I asked you first. So you have to answer me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you replied, “but I will call for help if you don’t answer me right now.”

Seeing the anger on your face, the boy calling himself Han looked out into the near-distance, at the line steadily encouching forward and now forming a beeline around your abandoned shop. “Well, given that we are out of earshot...it’s not much of a threat, but...still,” he shrugged, almost to himself. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”

He set himself down criss cross applesauce, next to Rei’s spaghetti legs. You huffed, attempting to protectively heave her a smidge closer to you. “Alright, well, go on.”

He gave you the goofiest grin. “Well, it’s quite simple, really! I just swooped under the wagon, and jimmied the breaks! Worked like a charm!”

You frowned, not at all appeased with that answer. “You...jimmied the brakes?”

“Yep!”

“And it just...stopped.”

“That’s right.”

“...You dove beneath a speeding wagon and managed to attach yourself underneath?”

“That’s what it sounds like~”

“That’s what it sounds like?!”

“Look, we can point fingers all day at who-did-what, but if you don’t hurry and get back in line, you’re not gonna have any place at all to set up your little shop of knick knacks or...whatever it is that you sell. Is that a snow globe?” He asked, reaching for Rei’s bag. You swatted his hand away.

“...Fine, whatever. Thanks for saving her, I guess…”

“And?”

You pressed a kerchief from your pocket to Rei’s forehead, smoothing ebony locks from her face. “And?”

Han smiled. Again. “You gotta pay me back somehow, right?”

“For doing a good deed? Do I?” You scoffed. “And here I thought you were doing it just to be kind…”

“Well now you know~ ...I mean—“ He swallowed at the glare you gave him. “...What I mean is, I did do it. To be kind. But I’d love if it you could still pay me back by coming with me to—“

“I’m not going anywhere with you or your dumb friend, if that’s what you’re asking. Just save it for the birds.”

Rei was starting to stir, twitching slightly, her eyes squinting in and out of consciousness. You began patting her cheeks and calling her name, but unfortunately, she still wasn’t fully there yet. That, and the annoying man at the other side of her wasn’t finished. “I have a proposal for you,” he stated.

“A proposal?” You didn’t like the sound of that. “...I’m not interested. Look, I’ll just, give you something from my shop, and you can be on your merry way, okay? Here, what about that snow globe you were eyeing before?” You reached over Rei’s body, fishing it out and handing him the novelty. “Take it. It’s yours.”

The glass globe held the contents of a small gray castle, surrounded in a sea of red roses. Han took the globe from your hand, examining the structure and looking almost nostalgically somber as he watched the fake snow fall. “...Thank you, but it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” You groaned. “Look, just take whatever. I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“...What I want,” Han said, ignoring that last part of your statement, “is for you to answer my question.”

“What? What quest— aah, I told you already, I’m not—!”

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

The way he’d cut you off and stated his query so seriously made your head spin; it certainly caught you off guard, that was for sure. “...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast?”

Thoughts slowly circled your mind, not knowing what to think. You had no idea where any of this had come from, the only responses coming to mind countering questions: who is Han, what is he up to, why did he want to know what you thought of such a peculiar idea…

“Well?” He egged, leaning backwards.

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

What? Help you out?

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his, hoping that if you gave him an honest answer, perhaps he would leave. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

You didn’t know it, as you’d turned away; but the moment those words left your parted lips, his eyes shone with the hope of a thousand suns, dawning the horizon after the longest winter storm. 

You’d turned away to shuffle for a bucket and some more handkerchiefs in Rei’s Bag of Wonders, holding out the bucket without turning your eyes away. “I changed my mind. Make yourself useful and get me some water from the nearby stream, or in town, whatever. Just—“

But when you cast your eyes back to where Han was sitting, he was gone.

| Two ❧

“You must have been having one hell of a dream to stay passed out for so long.”

“Ahaha…” Rei buried her fingers in her hair, entangling them in the sea of ebony that flowed behind her and came to a steady delta tied near the ends. “Sorry about that. It was like I wanted to wake up, but I just couldn’t. Like something...some kind of invisible wall was preventing me from doing so.”

“Hmm…”

The two of you had made it into town safely, with little trouble other than what you’d previously gone through with that strange boy, Han. After getting checked in and circling the shopping district three times, your luck finally began turning around when one of the vendors apparently felt ill and decided to turn in early; bad for him, but great for the two of you. The spot couldn’t have been more perfect, either: positioned right in the center of all the hustle and bustle, it attracted plenty of attention, and the moment you set up shop, customers came lining up at the window.

The two of you worked for hours to make up lost time, grinding your fingers to the bone, shuffling around each other to count coins, search for wares, and sign receipts of official purchase. By the time the lunch bell rang, you and Rei were about ready to fall over.

“I’m tired,” Rei moaned, collapsing to her knees and digging under the counter for your grocery supply. Woefully, her hand came back...empty. “Ah, we’re all out of bread! And apples…”

“What about that bag of trail mix you bought two days ago?” You asked while organizing receipts. Someone had to do it, and you knew Rei sure as heck wasn’t going to.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Carrots and I polished it off yesterday. ...Oh, carrots.” Her stomach growled right on cue, a forlorn sigh escaping dry lips. “...I’m so hungry...”

Something about that previous statement made you pause, inclining your head to the right in thought. …Carrots…Carrots…?

...Oh no. Oh hell’s bells, you’d completely forgotten about Carrots!

Without a moment to lose you dropped the stack of receipts you’d been tidying up onto the counter, hopping out of the wagon and running as fast as your boot-clad feet could take you. Your knees were still stiff and exhaustion weighed you down, but you couldn’t allow that to stop you. Not when that poor (dumb) horse was wandering and hopefully still waiting for you.

“Hey!” Rei yelled, her head leaning out the window. “Where are you going?! You forgot your coin purse!” She waved said object in the air, as if asking for a thief to come and swipe it. “I want lemons and some gum drops! I saw a candy shop about a block down!!”

“You can’t have candy for lunch!” You hollered back. “And I can’t right now, you’ll have to get lunch yourself today. There’s something I forgot.”

Her confused expression said everything else for her, but you didn’t have time to chat about lunch plans. You had to get that horse.

You ran with all your might (what little you had left) out of the shopping district, down three blocks, and past the city gate...that is, until a guard stopped you.

“Woooah there, little miss.” The man grabbed your arm, effectively pulling you backward; and he had quite the grip to boot. “I’m afraid you can’t just go hauling eighty out here like that. I’ll need to see some I.D.”

You cast anxiety-riddled eyes to the man, making sure each gesture showcased your anger. “What? To leave the city? ...But I’m leaving, not entering!” Your anxious gaze sought out into the trees, the pastures of bitter decay and spooky autumn silence where Carrots was last seen. “Please, I need to get out there. My horse is missing, I’m afraid I forgot about her after a...mishap...and ended up abandoning her. She’s sick, so I don’t have time to play games!”

“That’s all fine and dandy, ma’am, but rules are rules. Show me your I.D., please.”

“I…! …”

Reluctantly, you yanked your arm away, digging for…

...Nothing, because you’d forgotten your coin purse. The image of Rei waving it with pride and worry left a bitter taste in your mouth. And your vendor verification permit was left in the shop, as well. “...I don’t have any. My permit is with my co-partner, back in the shopping district.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll just have to go back and get it, then.”

“What?! I don’t have time for that!” You turned pleading eyes to the officer, prayerfully searching for understanding alongside a missing horse. “Please sir, she couldn’t have wandered very far. I’ll be right back! I’m only going--”

He shook his head. “Sorry miss, like I said, rules are rules. Because of the recent string of kidnappings, all residents and visitors alike are required to provide valid identification before coming in or leaving city walls. Mayor’s orders.”

You’d been thinking about making a run for it or finding another guard to reason with until the word kidnappings made its way into the conversation. Normally you would have been curious and not too concerned...however… 

...That’s considering you heard it from a local paper floating in the breeze, or along the gossiping grapevine from one vendor to another, one chatty socialite to the next whispering to each other among the lively bustle of city life. Why were you just now hearing about it here? From an officer? How long had this been going on?

In all the questioning silence, you basically forgot about...what was it you were looking for again? “Um, forgive me for prying, but...kidnappings?”

“...E-Er...that’s...” The officer flinched, taking a half step back. “...Um...well...dammit all…” He removed his thick uniform hat, scratching his head a moment before readjusting it to fit tall and proud. He cleared his throat. “...Please forget I said anything. If you wish to leave the city, I’ll need to see some valid I.D.”

“......”

He simply stood there, pretending as if nothing had happened. The only proof you had was the sweat swimming along his forehead, but surely he’d blame that on the nonexistent autumn heat and the fullness of his uniform.

You had no choice but to reenter the masses.

- ❧ -

When you return to the gates, the same officer approved of your vending license (still sweating from that “autumn heat,”) signalling for the men in the tower to let you through. It was late afternoon now, the skyline growing dangerously close to dusk; when you’d returned to shop a while earlier, you couldn’t admit to Rei that you’d lost her best friend next to you (though some friend she was having no idea about the whole thing...), so you were left with little choice but to play along and have lunch until it was time to work again. The late-day crowds were always far less stressful than morning shifts, so confident she would be fine on her own you took back off for the South entrance the moment the work bell rang.

“Carrots...Carrots...looking for a food-poisoned horse…”

Sigh. The words were a groan from your lips as you trudged about a floor of dead leaves and twisted bare tree branches. The skyline was starting to wear thin, every step you took noisy and either resulting in startling a field mouse or alerting a wandering bear out of hibernation of your whereabouts. Not an ideal situation to be in.

I’ve been wandering these woods for three hours now. Dang it, where is she?! ...Normally, Carrots was a good horse; she followed you around, did as told, and when you did lose her (...as this wasn’t the first time…) she stayed put and waited for you to return; like that time in Cresentmoon Harbor (for it was literally shaped like a crescent), when you and Rei had been so distracted by some dashingly handsome fisherman named Minhee and wanted to hear his tales of the rough blue sea that you’d, yes, left your horse astray, where a group of thugs almost snatched her. 

That had actually been a fun day, watching Rei throw apples and trinkets and club the ringleader with his own beatstick. This time, however, you’d known exactly where you left her. You were sure there were no gangs or thugs near a place like this; not a clean-cut, safeguarded place like Westwind...any yet, Carrots hadn’t been there. Not at the top of the hill where you left her, or beneath it, beside it, or anywhere nearby.

...Although...didn’t that cityguard mention something about kidnappings?!

That stupid horse. I knew I should have overruled Rei and named her Dumdum. She went and got herself kidnapped! URGH, I had to go pulling the short end of the stick today--

A sharp wind blew by without warning, causing you to shiver. Mournfully, you wondered if maybe you should turn back and enlist Rei’s help after all...have her summon back that courageous, beatstick-smacking frenzy… 

Oh, but how heartbroken she’d be to hear of Carrot's disappearance! ...It was all for naught, though... 

Carefully, you turned around and began walking the way you came, one step, then two...then stopped. Looking out into the moors, the forest beyond, the stretch of trees and forest decay that went on for miles and miles seemed...different, somehow. It went on for miles and miles and...miles and miles and miles. It didn’t seem to have an end.

I know I didn’t walk that far… Now now, Y/n. Can’t see the forest for the trees, hm? It’s no big deal, I just wandered a bit farther than I thought. I’ll start heading back now.

Because Rei was the fun-loving, clueless bubbly-type, you had to be the strong one (not including Wild, Pissed-Off Rei). You were the confident, analytical, and ambitious of the two. You prefered logic and data, and relied almost whole-heartedly on common sense, with few exceptions. And as any rational person of your nature would, you’d made sure to mark the entire way you’d come; so it was no big deal, wandering out a bit farther than you had intended. 

...Except...

...The first marker never came. Not after five minutes, not after ten. You walked in the opposite direction for precisely 1,000 steps and counting, and all that greeted you were the same exact scene of bare trees and dead leaves. In the same order. In the same tones and volumes and shapes.

It was going to start getting dark in the next two hours. You stopped, thinking. Running numbers. Fishing for data…...fishing…...fish…...Minhee...heheh…

No, no! Staying on track was crucial at a time like this…! 

But you ended up standing there, for another ten, twenty minutes maybe, not sure what to do. There was a strange vibe in the air, you could feel it. The way it wafted through the air and settled on your skin. Rattling your bones. It almost felt like it was bribing you in another direction. 

So you did an illogical thing unlike your nature: you kept walking straight ahead, ignoring it for as long as you could. But dammit, the scenery never changed! Not after an hour, not after two… 

You were tired at this point, collapsing hopelessly by the same tree you passed a hundred times...and then you got an idea, like a fog lifting from your brain (Why hadn’t you thought of this sooner?!). Grabbing a twig, you made a small notch in the tree. Then you took off running, jogging at a brisk pace. Never making a single right or left turn, not even in the slightest. Headed only one direction, following alongside the setting sun.

That same notch bid you a pleasant hello eight and a half minutes later. To make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence, you walked another eight and a half minutes; same notch, same place, same twig resting lifelessly to the right. Same tree.

It was getting dark now. Soon the sun would be completely gone over the horizon, tucked away for twelve hours of sleep before returning to shine light on a new day. And you had no horse to show for it; more importantly, you were lost. Trapped in some kind of...weird bermuda triangle of decaying forest with no sign of life anywhere. 

Great, just great. I hate my luck… wait… 

...Ah, yes. Conveniently, just when you’d thought to possibly scream out your frustrations into your work apron, rattling on about how much luck despises you, and how you despise her back, maybe shed a few tears since no one was around, a tower of billowing smoke caught your attention, a sign of life that hadn’t been there before. 

. . . 

You should have been more cautious. Normally, you would have been. But given recent events…

“Hello…?” You called softly, pushing the door open; though, let’s be honest, the door really seemed to just...open itself. “Is anybody here?”

The house was old and worn. A small cottage just big enough for one, it must have been at some point; now, it was practically all but decayed along with the surrounding forest. Another heap of dead wood and rotted roots among many. A faintly ripe and sickeningly sweet scent wafted about the torn chamber, wrapping around sagging furniture, torn drapes, and a half-caved roof that gave clear sight to the full moon, bulging and cackling in a clouded manner.

It was a stark contrast to the decrepit old woman beckoning you from within. 

“Yes, yes… Come in, my child.”

| Three ❧

A few hours earlier, Han Jisung had just been minding his own business, a faceless shadow of a dark hood browsing Westwind goods, humming a fiery tune, all while coming up with a plan for smuggling an innocent human girl into the cursed city of New Amber. He was pleasantly aware of the time; he had exactly ten hours left before he was due back at the palace, girl in tow, in order to keep his handsome blue-haired head and devilishly charming eyes.

He had time. The two cities may have been four hours apart on horseback, a diagonal stretch of twisted forest and steep valleys between them, but being a shadow he could just-- ...zip...and zig...and...zag...right beneath the… … … 

...He wouldn’t be returning alone. He was transporting a human girl. That had no magical curse or powers to speak. The only way to return was the old-fashioned way...which meant…

He only had half the time he thought he did. Balls.

Making his way through the afternoon crowds, he followed three winding back alleyways before making sure the coast was clear of wandering eyes, seeping into the broken cobblestone and dashing through history below, long forgotten structures and fossils of stories past: a mineshaft, a tavern sign, a snuffed-out bonfire. At just a block away he set out a brisk pace for where he last placed a tracking mark upon the one known as Rei.

It had been a simple plan; since Y/n was impossible to get near, he merely embedded a small tadpole of his shadowy spirit into the other. Since they traveled together, where one was found, the other wouldn’t be far behind. Find Rei, find Y/n.

But beside that fact, it was starting to itch; being without a part of him for too long caused an empty, nagging feeling to rise and fall through his bones like a waxing, waning tide, going back and forth, back and forth. It got downright maddening after a while, almost like an addiction, to the point where eventually, he couldn’t stand to be without himself any longer. If he wasn’t whole, what was he?

...For a shadow...being whole meant everything.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he greeted her, the girl whose life he very well saved. Rei turned around from her stockpile of cash, where she placed many bags of coins in the Candy For Me! ♫ pile and few in the Dumb Taxes :( pile.

“Oh, hey, I know you!” Her face lit up tenfold; an oddity given the fact she should have been unconscious for ninety-percent of their previous encounter... “You’re the guy that saved me before! I thought you looked familiar!”

She threw a tarp over the stacks of cash she’d been organizing before, as if that was going to...protect it, or something. She rested her chin in palm, elbows propped upon the counter space. Smiled.

“So what brings you by? What can I help you with? Oh,” she smirked, wagging a single brow. “Could I interest you in this love potion?” 

A bottle of perfume made its way between them from out of nowhere, dangling like mistletoe. It...Han couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for Y/n by chance, would you~?” Rei asked.

The proposed bottle had the painted label scratched off, where the replaced paint job read Love Potion No.9, along with a price tag of thirty-five coins. Han chuckled, doing his best to play off the awkward gesture. He had to tear his eyes away from it.

“Thank you, but no,” he stated, gently lowering her arm to the table. The sliver of his missing portion swam back into him, through his fingertips and up his arm, and this didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Rei, though he distracted her into shrugging it off. “I actually am looking for Y/n, if you happen to know where she is? I suppose you’re right about that part, actually.”

“Oh? Really?!” Rei’s face lit tenfold...again. She squealed. “Eeeeek, I knew it! Oh, I just love when this happens!”

Her face thrust straight into his, nearly close enough to kiss. It startled him into backing distance. 

“What is it?!?” She cried excitedly. “What do you need to see her for?! Oh, please tell me it’s to exchange letters! Or trinkets!” She looked like the shadiest business woman ever in the next second. “Y/n may have said she was organizing paperwork, but I knew what was really going on. Tee-hee!”

“...Ahh…” ...Shoot, what the hell was he supposed to say?! This girl didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being let down... “...There’s something I…” He gulped. “There’s something I wish to show her. Before setting out, that is.”

“Oh…” Her frown encased her disappointment. “I see...well, actually…” She twirled a strand of sleek black hair away from her tan complexion. “Y/n left about an hour ago...no, it has to have been longer than that…” Her frown deepened, looking off into the distance. “She took off as soon as lunch ended, and she hasn’t come back yet. I think she said she was looking for something…? But…” 

Now she was looking down vacantly into the counterspace. There was a dull sheen in her eyes.

“...I’m starting to worry. Y/n never just runs off for hours on end like this. It’s not like her at all. ...What if something…”

Han put a stop to that thought: one, because he hated seeing girls cry, and two, because he could tell she was the messy-crier that would get snot and tissues everywhere, including his hair and earring; also there was three: his ass on a silver platter, courtesy of His Angry-Cursed-Forever Highness. If he failed to secure Y/n…

He didn’t wanna think about it. Which is why he swiftly set Rei upright, patting her shoulders and promising that he would go out and look for her. She couldn’t have wandered far, seeing as her whole livelihood was on the line (and in the hands of someone like Rei…whom he didn’t know that well, but still…)

“Can you give me an idea of where she may have gone? Which way did she go?”

“Yeah, sure! She went that way, and, oh yeah, she took our vending license with her! Do you think she could have gone to City Hall, maybe…?”

It was unlikely. City Hall was in the other direction, to the north-east; and according to Rei, Y/n had ventured south. The only thing there was lower-class common folk and the city gates, meaning the only conclusion he could come to was that she needed to verify her legitimacy in order to continue business, or she needed out.

After questioning some guards under a guise of glamour and shade (which was necessary for...private reasons), he was at last directed to a middle-aged man who claimed to have allowed the girl to leave some three to four hours ago. Before they could get an answer out of him as to why he wanted to know, Han vanished into the shadows like a thief in the night, slipping through the straying crowds towards the nearest alleyway, where he plopped down, zipped below, and popped right back up on the other side of the great city wall.

Removing his hood, he looked around, scanning the area for any clues of Y/n’s whereabouts. But, of course, nothing.

Dammit, it was getting late! It was already late!

Han bit his nails, fuming. Pacing. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t…!

...Sigh. Screw it all. He’d just have to look for her. If he found her fast enough, he could come up with some plan to make it back to Everain before sunrise.

He began his search heading South, into the clamour of trees. Past one tree, two, five, twenty. Deeper and deeper he traveled, gradually becoming one with the earth and expanding his search among the elements. Beneath the earth, brushing against roots of trees and flowerbeds, he could “see” everything-- as far as a twelve mile radius. 

His shadowed extensions stretched over the land, covering all ground within reach like the hands of a clock, time traveling faster and faster until…!

...He found it. Er, her. His senses zoomed in on a house, caved in from years of age and resentment, crumbling to dust even now outside the confines of Y/n...and……someone else…

...Someone he knew.

Out of breath, he nearly choked in the enclosure of his own realm, eyes wide and heart frozen stiff. It took every last bit of strength to push himself free, for he couldn’t escape fast enough; not when a demonic witch like her was around. 

Except...he’d started to run the wrong way. And then he stopped entirely, unable to move.

He hated that decrepit old hag. After everything that happened...the magic, the sorrow, the black fires of hell...he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d sworn that the moment he saw her again, it would be too soon. The witch that had taken his humanity.

It was she who had cast them all to hell in a handbasket, after all.

Standing there beneath the blotted night, gentle caresses of wind cascading and percolating through strands of brown and blue, he looked down to his bare hands, setting focus to the rivets of small scars where rivers of shadow flooded his veins.

A knock at the door. A sneer. A warning glare.

He tightened his grip on the air, so free and billowing carelessly in contrast to him.

A push. A harsh remark. A confident smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Anger… Resentment… Fire…

And…then…

He gasped for air once more. Not now. Now was not the time to think. He needed to act, to push all of this past him. It was the only way to break the curse and save Hyunjin, and in return, himself. The entire palace of Everain— the whole city, perhaps— was counting on him.

...Shadow. The only thing I remember...is black.

 Cringing, he threw caution to the wind, where fear was meant to reside with the birds.

- ❧ -

The house was as old and vile as the woman who lived there. Vines snaked and slithered their way around the entire enclosure like a brood of thorned vipers, between cracks in the wall panels and over the steps leading to a gaping front door, just asking to trip its prey into it’s dark clutches. Into her clutches; those wrinkled leathered hands dripping with metaphorical blood and darkness.

Han hated all of it. He’d known about the Witch’s home for a long time, but he refused to ever step foot on her accursed soil (...until now, that is). The problem was, her biome was always changing, shifting and teleporting all over the place. Few unlucky souls who had survived to see it dubbed it Howl’s Moving Castle.

That title entirely ruined the book for him. Not that he particularly enjoyed reading, anyway; but he refused to lift it or so much as look at the book’s spine resting in the lavish, dusty library back home.

“Hey,” he called, marching right in. There wasn’t time for cold feet or second thoughts; if he didn’t have Y/n, there would be no point in going back. Returning without Y/n meant certain death via Hyunjin, but going through the Witch’s Biome meant likely death via whatever disdainful plot the Witch could come up with. At least facing the Witch’s path, he had a slim chance of making it out alive. If he were fast enough.

He’d thought about it on the way over: before, he had no powers to speak of. He’d been a regular, average teenage boy just trying to make it up and through adulthood, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. But with the Witch’s curse, all that changed; he was essentially one with the darkness; and darkness was everywhere. Especially here. 

Assuming Y/n was conscious and able to move, he calculated that with high enough confidence and self-esteem, he should have no problem distracting the foul old hag long enough for his last hope to escape. (And Lord knew he had plenty of that to go around...)

Darkness clouded the entire room, choking out all light save for a few small rays of moonlight. The temperature seemed to be dropping 10 degrees every second. “Hello?” He tried again, checking left, right. “I...I know you’re here. Witch.” He was already beginning to seethe. “Come out. Where is Y/n?”

There was no response. Nothing creaked, no one croaked. Not even the wind outside made a sound.

Then something darted behind him, to the right, and he parried the opposite direction, biting his lower lip. Here it came. The worst part.

A single field mouse made its way into the faint slivers of rooftop moonlight. And there it sat, perched on its hind legs, whiskers twitching and tail dancing rhythmically across the uneven floor.

“How do you like?” came a creaky frail voice from beyond. Her voice was a sour note to his ears.

Han gritted his teeth, tasting blood on the horizon. “I’m not here to rate your latest experiments,” he spat. “That better not be Y/n. Show yourself, now.”

A lingering moment passed before the fleabag chuckled, stepping ancient bones into the small pool of light. “Alright, alright,” she said, in a mockingly chiding tone. “No need to get so angry. That’s what got your friend into so much trouble, after all. And look what it did to you.”

Two minutes in, and she was already hitting a nerve. Nerves that needed to remain untouched were his plan to go smoothly. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you. You already ruined me. What more could you possibly do?”

A dark foreboding thought brewed up a storm in her eyes, just lingering on the edge of sanity. “Believe me,” she rasped, “I showed you both mercy.”

Han flinched. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to explode, yet cower in terror, all at once. He was livid, yet terrified-- anxious-- and a little sick to his stomach. “Give me Y/n. Right now. I didn’t come here to chat.”

The old woman smiled. “I can’t,” she simply stated, not moving an inch.

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re standing on her.”

Horrified, Han shot his gaze downward. Corsarn, he didn’t think he’d been standing on anything but the…!

But there was nothing but paled wooden planks. The Witch laughed. “Ahahah, not physically on her, dear. Though this house is so old, you may as well be...I’m surprised the floors haven’t caved in to match the roof.”

After holding her gaze a moment too long, he took a step back, flitting his eyes between Witch and supposedly underground wardrobe. “Open the door. Slowly.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be taking your orders?” She scoffed, sighing at the end. “My, how times have changed…”

“Just do it!” he ordered.

The Witch gave a stern, slight scowl. “Oh, fine. I’m out of enough magic to put another curse on you anyway,” she muttered. Tapping her ancient walking stick once, twice upon the rotting floors, something clicked below, and the square space where Han had been standing swung open. “Just so you know,” she added, “I took the liberty of having a little fun, as you probably already guessed. She’ll be out for a few hours, but I don’t foresee death in her future; at least, not in the near one,” she chuckled.

“You--!” ...Rrgh. He still had to bite his tongue. His lip was already going to be busted and sore tomorrow. 

Trotting down steadily with caution, before the gaze of a putrid old smile he descended the hidden staircase, never once letting his guard down. The girl he sought was safely snoozing in one piece, lying like a waking dream...other than being unconscious.

He gathered her up, using shadow to cross the room, just in case a trap was lying dormant on the way over, and with Y/n in his arms, he almost thought about attempting to drag her into the Shadowworld with him, just so he didn’t have to face the old has-been again and make a clean getaway.

But it was too risky. And likely, it wouldn’t work; so carefully, he placed one nimble foot in front of the other, across the blank room, up the stairs, and into the familiar darkness from moments before. The Witch was still waiting for him, still as a statue in the exact location she had been. She followed him all the way to the door, tittering at his suspicion of the whole thing. 

She then watched as they made it off the porch. “Here,” she announced, sensing his urgency; for he’d just been about to make a run for it before she called him.

Nervously, he turned around halfway, holding Y/n tighter.

The bat continued her chuckling. She scooped down surprisingly swift, tossing something gray and furry into the air. It landed haphazardly onto his arm, clinging for dear life to his sleeve with a faint squeak! before scampering up to his shoulder. “Take him,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “I have no need for the pitiful thing. He can keep you company on your way back.”

Company? Oh, no no no. He didn’t think so. He wasn’t stupid; Han knew of her tricks. The rat was probably a spy, or some kind of ticking time bomb. Forcefully, he shifted his grip on the girl, snatching the creature from its place--

...Except, he meant to throw it back. He did. He would have tossed the wretched thing to the ground and stomped on its brains without a second thought.

But it’d cried. Shrieked. Wailed. He knew the sound of terror when it howled.

Glancing up, he saw that it was crying. Actually crying.

Something was off. It had to be human...or at least, have some sort of intelligent wit.

Loosening his grip, he allowed the creature to squirm and wiggle its way free, scampering up his arm and tucking itself fearfully in the pouch of his hood with a nosedive. Sensations of trembling fell against his upper backside.

“Take care on your way home; you may need it.” 

A twisted smile. Tch.

Glowering amongst the laughter, he left the darkness behind him.

| Four ❧

“How may I assist you, dear?” The old woman asked.

Your eyes scanned the area, dilating and adjusting to the faint light. “I’m sorry,” you began, giving a small, polite bow. “I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Oh, now, that’s alright~” The woman insisted, beckoning you farther in. “Come, come, sit! Make yourself a home. I’m the one who invited you in, yes?”

“...” Carefully you nodded, moving with caution to take a seat at the dusty worn table. 

“Now,” she said, popping joints as she settled across from you. “What can I do for you today?”

“...Do for me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, yes…” Her eyes were impenetrable, boring into yours. You had trouble looking away. “No one comes here without a purpose. There are no happy accidents.”

“......” Again, you found yourself hesitating, having trouble forming the right words. Words were becoming a limited resource all of a sudden. 

“Well~?” the woman pressed.

“...” You swallowed dryly. Something just wasn’t right; but who were you to lie to an old woman? In her own home, nonetheless. “I’m looking for someone...my horse, actually.”

“Hmm, I see…”

“She wandered off...well, no, that’s not true.” You sighed. “I left her by accident. I abandoned her without meaning to, out front of Westwind city. We’d woken up late, my friend and I, and in our hurry and a near-death experience thanks to someone, I ended up forgetting all about her. When I went back to fetch her and bring her home, she was gone.”

“Oh, my…” The old woman was still smiling. “That sounds like some adventure the two of you had! Though, tell me…” She tilted her head. “Who is this “someone” that got in your way?”

“Hm? Oh,” You sighed, again. “Some strange boy that just showed up out of nowhere and offered to help me move the cart downhill. He’s no one special.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, he must be to have stepped up and offered you assistance in this day and age,” she replied. “What was his name?”

There was an intensity you didn’t like. As if she were interrogating you for answers. 

Dryly, again, you swallowed.

“Han-something, I think. Han...Jisung.”

That’s when it had been over. But you hadn’t known that; not yet.

“Han Jisung…” The woman repeated. She was clearly searching the archives. 

Then she found what she was looking for, and curving crooked fingers skyward, she beckoned your hands to be placed atop of her on the table.

“Give me your hands, dear. I know just what it is that you need.”

If only you hadn’t listened to her… 

- ❧ -

You were no fool. You saw what the witch had done to you, just before falling unconscious.

Stirring now, you curled into the weight of something dark and soft, something sheltering and warm against the cold night air. Whatever it was held you tighter, the world slowing down.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Ow. Yes.

One of the side-effects must have been a splitting headache…

“Yes...I can hear--”

Rrpt! Hold on a second. You knew that voice…!

In all haste you shot upright, only to collide foreheads with Han Jisung, the both of you growling in pain. Your headache just got ten times worse.

“Ow…! Sh*t, of all times and places…” After counting one, two Mississippis for the pounding to decrease, you sent him a glare, blurry vision mixed with clouded judgement. “What are you doing? What’s going on, where are you taking me?!”

The foolish boy snorted, ignoring you to continue walking. As your eyes cleared of drowsiness, you could see the two of you were alone, out in the middle of the forest. “A simple thank you wouldn’t hurt, y’know. I did just finish saving your life a few hours ago.”

“You…?” Hesitantly, you looked around again, pressing a hand to your forehead in feeble attempt to decrease anymore throbbing heartbeats. “...Where are we? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put me down this instant.”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who was just cursed and knocked out.”

“I said, put me--! …” 

You paused. The whole world seemed to.

Carefully, slowly, you turned your face back towards the sunlight. “...Wh...What did you say?” 

Han snorted. Again. “You heard me. You waltzed right into the Witch’s Biome like an idiot, and now you’re one of us. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Hyunjin…”

...You’d stop listening towards the end. Everything just naturally tuned out, your eyes falling aimlessly to stare vacant holes into the dimensional rift of the traveling space around you. 

“In case you’re wondering,” Han’s voice cut through, calling for your attention once more. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you to my friend; well, he’s really more of my...uhm…”

You waited vacantly for an answer.

“...Uhhh…”

You didn’t have time for this. Not that anything mattered or made sense anymore. Still, you weren’t going to idly sit here and listen to Tweedle Dee make dumb noises the rest of the night. “He’s what?” you pressed, aggravation clearly showing. “Is he your master or something?”

Han Jisung nearly dropped your hungover cursed arse. Which told you you were right, even if he kept insisting you were wrong. It was pretty funny to see him fuming and hot under the collar the rest of the walk.

Speaking of walking, you had fidgeted and demanded to walk by yourself, but after nine nos and a tenth yes, you found you had absolutely no strength in your wobbly, jelly-like legs. Resulting in Han carrying you like an unfortunate groom once more.

Yes, you’d argued for him to take you back. But no, he refused.

Which meant he had to be that kidnapper the city guard mentioned after all.

This lead you to be afraid, and rightly so; what if Han killed you?! What if he actually was dangerous, and he had been lying to you from the start. Nothing he’d been saying up until this point made sense anyway; and just look at the way he was dressed. Only crazy people wore such strange, unusual attire, so futuristic and bizzare-looking. 

And, you noticed, the closer you got to...wherever he was taking you...the more and more his appearance changed.

It was gradual, slow at first; just a random strand of hair, a speck of color in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Then, out of nowhere, it was like time sped up around him, and his eyes became a solid, bright blue, his hair a darker contrast, and that lone earring he wore shimmered with a paradoxical bright darkness, like shadows giving birth to light.

It was...insanity. Yet, regrettably, you had to admit he’d grown incredibly attractive. 

Han didn’t speak much the second half of your trip, and neither did you. You were too busy trying to process what was happening, and he was lost in his own world, eyes never leaving the road ahead except to occasionally check on you. It was a nonverbal communication: Are you still doing okay? / Yes, I’m fine. Quit staring at me. / Yeah, okay, you’re welcome.

About two hours later, the two of you arrived at the gates of an old, rustic castle, and a city that looked all but lost.

| Five ❧

Your headache had at last subsided by the time you arrived at Everain Palace. ...Or at least, that’s what the sign said it was called. You were barely able to read it through the layers of rust and vines, however. “This is the place?”

“Yep,” your entourage announced, setting you down beside him. “It’s been a few hours now, so you should have the strength to walk again, at least to your room. But I’m sure I can get some lackey somewhere to carry you the rest of the way if you can’t manage.”

“Hold on...what?”

“What?”

He finished setting you down, and you wobbled your way back a few steps, leaning against the gate’s archway for support. “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I have to get back to Rei and find Carrots, my stupid horse. Then, I’m renaming her Dumdum and we’re sweeping all of this under the rug.”

Instead of laughing, or perhaps getting a little angry even, Han Jisung stared at you with the most pitiful glance anyone had ever given another human soul. It was dreadful, but soft, somewhat loving, and oozing with regret.

And then he said those abysmal words you were scared of hearing all along.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m afraid you won’t be traveling anywhere anytime soon.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. This was it, you thought. The truth revealed. He really was a kidnapper; and now, you were his next victim. The whole charmingly dopey and idiotic act had been just that: an act. And you’d fallen for it.

So you did the next thing you could think of, seeing as fighting and running away were out of the question in your weak and disoriented state.

“KIDNAPPER!!!” You screamed. “THIEF! HUMAN TRAFFICKING!! HELP!!!”

But soon you remembered your surroundings, where you were at this time: a rundown city that appeared to have been abandoned for years, closed off in an eternal slumber. Everything was covered in vines and dust, and hardly anything made a sound.

You were doomed.

Han rushed over quick to keep your mouth shut while sweating at the seams, but a chomp to his hand did him right good, and while he was bouncing around and airing out his hand like a blubbering buffoon you tried making a run for it. Keyword: tried.

In the end, you only made it as far as the circle of trees isolating this town before something pierced the back of your neck, and you were a prisoner of sleep all over again.

- ❧ -

You aren’t quite sure; perhaps you slept for eight, nine hours. All you knew is that when you awoke, there was sunshine pouring through the curtain-laced window like the brightest waterfall.

A...curtain-laced window...and silk sheets… … … 

You hopped to it the next second that thought circled your mind.

No. Oh, no…

...This certainly wasn’t your room. Your room was with the stars, the ocean, the grassy plains and trees, Rei at your side. This was an actual room, complete with a bed, canopy, dresser and wardrobe, a nightstand, and an additional table with matching chairs, four to be exact; two large windows, standing side by side at opposite ends of the room to your left. One beside the table, one near the door.

There was a note left for you on the nightstand (to your left) as well.

Y/n -

I’m sorry I had to knock you out like that. But you’re one of us now, and I can’t afford to let you leave. It’s important. Lives are at stake. You have to trust me, please.

There’s someone I’d like for you to meet. More like I need you to. I’ll explain more later, when you’re awake. If you read this and you still don’t feel well, feel free to take another couple of hours to yourself, to get your bearings; but don’t sleep for too long. I’ll wake you when we’re more pressed for time.

Again, I’m really sorry about all this. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me, but I get it if you need more time. Just promise not to take it out on Hyunjin, if you happen to run into him first.

Signed, Han, your kidnapper

There was an additional piece of paper that fell from behind the original.

P.S. - That was just a joke. Don’t freak out. I’m not a bad guy, really. At least, not as bad as you probably think I am.

…

You didn’t know what to think of anything anymore. This was all just too much. What on earth had happened to you? How did you get roped into all of this? ...You’d just wanted to find Carrots, and bring her home so Rei wouldn’t be sad and you wouldn’t feel guilty and the two of you could save the trouble of having to buy a new horse, train him, yadda yadda yadda. Instead you stupidly and ill-fatedly stumbled upon the home of an actual witch, walked right in, and told her things you probably shouldn’t have. You didn’t like the way she’d looked at you when you mentioned knowing Han Jisung.

The Mark of the Rose, the witch had slurred, eyes wide with a sinister grin. A blessing, and a curse.

Then she’d spouted some sort of riddle:

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

...She hadn’t told you what the heck any of that was supposed to mean. For one, how could plaguing you with a mark from some wicked sorcery be a blessing?! And, what’s more...how was it a curse…? ...Her strange chanting hadn’t made any sense, though that last part had sounded nice...maybe that was the blessing?

Something made a skittering, scuffling sound. Turning to your left, something small and fuzzy caught your eye, climbing up a chair leg and coming to rest on the cushion above. It was...holding a crumb of cheese. Sitting there like a person, flat on his bum.

It was some kind of rodent.

You bristled all over, hair standing on end. “A RAT!!!” You shrieked, leaping from bed to dresser. Thankfully it had been bare atop the surface, minus the unlit candle and some kind of ornate mirror, which was an unfortunate accident. Seven years of bad luck was just what you needed, on top of everything.

The moment you let out a cry of alarm, the mouse similarly screamed-- possibly louder than you-- spasming out of the chair and running in circles with sweat flying from its brow until it ran into another chair leg and clocked out, rolling into the path of sunlight.

You’d been about to grab that discarded candle as a weapon until the room became incredibly bright. Clouds parted from outside, sunlight magnifying to flood the whole room. 

And then, when the sunlight narrowed to pierce the unconscious vermin straight through its heart, he became a boy. 

Hair the color of sunset and cheeks flushed rosy pink, full of freckles scrunched his nose, squinted, and wearily stared back at you, upside down. Prayerfully, by some miracle, he was still wearing clothes.

That didn’t change the fact that you had no idea what to make of this sudden development. You stood there, hunched frozen atop the dresser, candle half off the floor and jaw nearly there.

“Hn-- nnnngh…” he groaned, sitting up with a hand to his head, much like you had leaving the Witch’s Biome-- that’s what Han had called it, right? “...Ouch...that’s the last time I go exploring on my own…” He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving a kind, tired smile. “Thanks for turning me back! I’m sorry I scared you, Y/n.”

Your candlestick went flying across the room. 

“OW!!!”

“WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!” you yelled. An accusatory finger followed. “This isn’t funny, and I’ve been through enough now! I’m sick of playing games, give me an answer right now or I’m throwing this broken mirror next!”

The door burst open. “What’s going on in--?! …”

Han Jisung was staring at Mouseboy curiously at first, widen eyes unblinking, you on the dresser second, a careful blink there...but the moment his eyes landed on the cracked mirror, he fell to his knees, hands in his hair.

“OH SH*T!” He shrieked, panicstricken all over. His voice was more pitched than (should be) possible. “What the hell did you do?! Who did this?!?”

Innocently, Mouseboy pointed to you, as if he had any right to be part of the blame game. “It was an accident, though,” he vouched (like that was supposed to make it better!). “I did the same thing when I woke up and saw myself an hour ago; you should have seen it, I broke five of those things! Talk about unlucky!”

He laughed. Han screeched, looking like The Scream. “YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

There was going to be a river running through the room by the time he finished sweating, pacing all over the place while nearly showering the floor and furniture with strands of blue hair. Mouseboy scratched his speckled-cheek, shifting to rest on the calves of his brown-clad work pants (He’d obviously been some kind of farm or errand boy before all this). “S-Sorry about that...it was an accident, really…” He bowed his head. “I-I can maybe get my boss to cover any property damage, but man, I’ll be working forever to pay it off…”

He sighed. You almost (almost) felt bad for him. But it was gonna take a lot more than just looking cute and pitiful to sway your emotions.

When at last he’d finished his...episode...Han stood from where he’d kneeled in prayer on the pinewood floor, swiping a hand over his face, shaking it off, and placing determined hands on his hips. “Okay,” he declared. “It’s alright. I’ll just have to convince Jeongin to pull an all-nighter and fix everything. Good thing he knows a thing or two about craftsmanship!”

Jeongin? …

You faltered, repeating the name curiously as you hopped off the dresser, now that the vermin crisis was over. Thankfully, your absent-mindedness didn’t cost you any cuts or bruises, seeing as there very well could have been shards of broken glass on the floor…

Han smiled your way, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right. We have a lot of introductions to get out of the way, so if you’re ready...well, you might want to get dressed first.”

Even more curiously, you looked down to examine yourself.

An eggshell, lace nightgown greeted your eyes.

… … … 

Who changed you...?!?!

| Six ❧

“Right, so,” said Han, pointing to each stranger in a misfit-lineup. “This is Seungmin, Jeongin, and...Felix, right? ...Yeah, okay, Felix.” He smiled, gesturing to you next. “Family, this is Y/n.”

Everyone either waved or bid you their own form of greeting, some shy, others more open. Now dressed in a sea-green gown with white-lace trim and possibly the most gaudy over exaggerated bow in the back (smaller, matching ones on your shoes and hair), you did your best to curtsey, though it was awkward and embellished to say the least, and really you’d just used it as an excuse to hike up your quarter-calf socks that refused to stay put. “Yeah, alright...nice to--”

“And this...is Hyunjin.”

The air got a little colder all of a sudden; both metaphorically and otherwise. You glanced up from rebuckling the annoying Mary Jane’s on your feet. Froze.

A tall, slender man stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall beneath the cloak of shadow in the hallway. Now, stepping forward in the light of a grand, deserted chapel, his dark hair combed back by rough fingers pressed for time, he was…he was… 

He was staring at you as if you’d hung the moon in the sky. His eyes were so round and...big. Practically moons themselves.

“......” Han cleared his throat, voicing everyone else’s discomfort. “Yes, well...okay, then. This is great! See?!” He motioned to you as if you were some kind of showcase prize. “I brought her back, just like you asked! Now there’s no need to do anything rash or bloodthirsty! Hahah…hah…! …”

Everyone was strangely silent. Looking at each face in turn, though many were staring at you, none could look you in the eye; and no one dared to so much as peek in this Hyunjin fellow’s direction. In fact, the red-headed boy, Jeongin, seemed...almost...rather afraid.

“Hang on,” you interjected (though there was nothing but silence for sometime now). The gears in your mind cranked back to the letter folded messily on the nightstand: Lives are at stake. I need you to meet someone. “So you’re saying you brought me here because...your friend wanted me here?” You huffed. “I don’t understand. You said that lives were at stake. Who’s dying?” 

Quiet. A somber aura fell over the small gathering; maybe that had been a little brash of you to ask outright…

But you needed answers! Why were you here? What was going on? “...Han,” you said, and instantly the boy looked up at you. “Why did you bring me here? What’s going on? …” You scanned the other four faces of boys around you. “What did you mean when you said...I was…” You shook your head. Doubts were flooding in like a dam had just snapped. “This better not be a set up.”

...More quiet. Han cleared his throat once more, stepping back in line. He had no answers to give; his features only hardened. The other three boys in line were looking anywhere else-- the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Oh, look at that beautiful glass window up there. And look at that one!

Hyunjin just kept on staring at you as if staring right through you; like he couldn’t comprehend your existence. He was completely locked in a trance.

After you’d carefully righted yourself, and had just begun turning away to get the heck out of Dodge, it was Seungmin that spoke next. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he called, scratching his head. You turned around. “It’s been a while since any of us have seen another human being before, nonetheless one that isn’t cursed--”

Han flinched, just out of the corner of your eye. Twitch. “...Oh, you mean…”

Your eyes locked with Hyunjin’s, still stuck in outer space. Seungmin nodded. “Yeah...and as for him--” He flicked his eyes on Han. “He’s just stupid.”

“Hey!” The man protested. Seungmin simply rolled his eyes. 

“Well it’s true! I bet you failed to explain anything that’s going on to this poor girl. Just look at what you made her wear!” He gestured rather violently to your ridiculously (somewhat childish) outfit. “She looks like she stepped out of a dollhouse. The cheap, tacky kind they used to sell down the street at Aunt Marie’s.”

“Um, actually…” You scowled. “I dressed myself. There wasn’t much to go off of in the closet other than old-era gowns and...well, that was basically it. Speaking of which, though…”

You stomped forward. Everyone (minus Trancy) jumped. 

“Which one of you changed me before?! I don’t recall wearing or even owning some fancy nightgown before getting the lights shot out of me.”

Seungmin’s jaw slacked. “You drugged her too?!”

“Only because she was trying to escape!” Han griped. “I didn’t want to have to shoot her! Besides, it wasn’t like I used anything heavy…”

“Still,” Red-headed Jeongin said, siding with his buddy. “What would Hyunjin say if he weren’t lost in his thoughts again? And did you even consider Y/n?”

Han scoffed. “I brought her back, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters.”

“Regardless,” Seungmin spoke, “You still basically brought her here against her will. That’s kidnapping. I’m pretty sure the curse isn’t going to--”

“Hello?!” you yelled, waving your arms. “I asked you all which one of you changed--! …”

Your eyes landed on Felix. The boy blinked, innocently processing, then bloomed another shade of rosy pink. “O-Oh, no…!” He waved his hands. “It wasn’t me, honest! I’ve been stuck as a mouse since last Tuesday! A-Also, you were already...I-I mean, I suppose if it wasn’t you, someone else had already…”

His voice trailed off; too modest, and he had a solid alibi. It couldn’t be him. In the background, Han and Seungmin were still arguing, with Jeongin occasionally chiming in to support Seungmin’s case.

“Let me guess,” Seungmin mused, arms crossed. “You probably stole them from Lady Verena down the road.”

Han made an urk! sound. Seungmin sighed.

“I knew it...no wonder she’s dressed so gaudy…” He and Jeongin turned to you with kind eyes. “Listen, Y/n. We’re really sorry about all this. If you need anything, from now on come to me or Jeongin. We’ll be sure to take care of you. Heck,” he grumbled, “even the new guy Felix could have done a better job…”

Felix smiled awkwardly. You and Han both fumed; for different reasons. “That’s not what I--!”

A low growl cut through the lowly-chaotic atmosphere. Everyone ceased their bickering.

The assumed head of the palace had awoken.

- ❧ -

He walked circles around you. Circles and circles and circles… 

You were starting to get more than a little dizzy.

“Fascinating…” Hyunjin mused. It was as if he were the only one in the room, and you were merely a lifeless figurine on display. While he spun himself into further insanity and far too strong curiosity, Seungmin and Jeongin both sent you sympathetic looks to “hang in there” and “just go with it.”

But you didn’t want to go with it. You wanted to go out-- away-- back home to the caravan, to the wagon that had Rei and Carrots and all your useless junk people gave life to, and you a profit. “I’m sorry,” your voice cut the mostly vacant air, save for the headmaster’s mumbling and strangely heavy breathing. “Am I missing something here? If you like or...don’t like my outfit, just tell me and I can either say “thank you” or change and we can all move on to more important topics, like, say...why I’m here? What’s going on?!”

Hyunjin froze a quarter of the way to facing you from the left, his brown eyes strangely wide (though really, everything about this man was strange). In the back, Seungmin and Jeongin once again made faces attuning to the atmosphere; in this case, nervous frowning.

They were all treating Hyunjin like some sort of ticking time bomb. Han obviously feared and weirdly resented him, it was plain and simple on his face, and even Felix was picking up something about this guy that you couldn’t sense. When he wasn’t distracted by colorful art or the dirt under his nails, he was sending highly strung vibes his way.

...In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you didn’t just walk out. Nothing was stopping you...really. There was a clear path from here to the great big hallway Han had escorted you down, Felix in tow, and from there a million other doors, all leading to someplace that had to be better than here. One of them-- at least five, or ten-- had to lead to some winding hallway that would take you to the great outdoors.

Just when you’d thought to inquire further on that, Hyunjin finally began speaking, and not mumbling. “You appear to be real…but…”

He closed the (little) distance he’d given you in a single stride, and without warning placed both his hands on your shoulders...very...tentatively. Then, he trailed his fingers up to your cheeks.

You latched onto his wrists, on instinct. A synchronized gasping chorus filled the room like a daytime tragedy soundtrack.

But Hyunjin did nothing, if not for widening his eyes yet again to stare into the depth of your face like he was amazed at your reaction. Like it wasn’t normal or something.

“Hyunjin,” spoke Seungmin, “perhaps it would do you well to give the girl-- Miss Y/n-- her space. She is a human, just like the...er...ahem.”

...That was a sour note.

“Actually…”

All eyes were on Han except yours. Even Hyunjin snapped out of his trance to glare skeptically with concern, with Seungmin having to carefully pull him away so you could stop smelling his pungent breath.

“...Ahaha...ahahahahaha…” ...Han wilted. “I sorta...maybe...well, okay, I didn’t do it, but--”

“What did you do?” Hyunjin spoke. All eyes flew to him, then back at Han in anticipation. Like some sort of thriller novel. The daytime tragedy continued. Maybe you were in a tragic play of some sort, and there was a hidden audience just waiting to jump out and announce that you’d officially been pranked.

“………” He took a breath. “TheWitchcursedhertoo…!”

And then he covered his mouth, wincing moments too soon. 

The decaying chapel gasped. Hyunjin’s face turned hard, then slowly, bewitchingly, menacing.

“She did what?!”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide. “Y-You’ve been cursed too?” he asked, mournfully, almost with pity. Everyone appeared to display a sadness teetering on the edge between fear and hopelessness.

It was insane how quickly the airspace had shifted; though nothing normal had happened yet, everything had at least been more or less steady. Now, it was as if the room had been thrown off its hinges at the mention of the woman...the Witch. Which you were hoping had been a dream, but seeing as Felix was here, and Han bringing it up...definitely not.

Han whimpered; actually whimpered, like a child being scolded for breaking a vase. “I-It was an accident, honest!” He begged. “She didn’t know she was headed into the Witch’s Biome, and I lost track of her! BY ACCIDENT! When I found her, I swear I did everything I could to protect her, honest! Th-That’s where I met Felix, though I didn’t know he was really human at the time...and I brought them both back here.”

Seungmin made a curious face of urgency, almost seeming to sweat as he crossed diagonally forward to move you back, even going so far as to stand in front of you as a shield while Jeongin took care of Felix, tugging the mouse-turned-boy’s twine-sewn sleeve to take shelter behind some discarded pews.

What happened next wasn’t a dream, but surely a thing of nightmares. Right in league with the Witch’s hideout.

There was a swirling mass of black and deep red as something foreign and sinister took hold of the feared so-called Master of the House. Hyunjin began to grow bigger. Sharp, pointed fangs protruded from tight chapped lips pulled back in a snarl. His eyes told of hunger, bloodshot. Pitched daggers made of shadow and bone formed and crystalized along his fingertips.

You lost your voice. You could barely breathe. You weren’t even sure how you were able to stand.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin warned, a sternness to his voice. “Think about what you’re doing. Y/n is here.”

Hyunjin growled, no longer a man anymore but some sort of...foul, hideous beast. He bore murderous eyes at Han. “I don’t care,” he growled, “I’m going to—!”

“You’re scaring her.”

… … …

That seemed to get his attention. Though the same couldn’t be said about yours; for though you stood still, frozen in time and space, your wandering mind was making a break for recalling the nearest exit. An empty, dizzying numbness choked your thoughts.

Hyunjin...if he could even be called that anymore...glared at you with wide, mournful eyes. Eyes full of fear and insecurity. Doubt. A horrible realization.

In the blink of an eye-- for you literally just had to blink-- he was back to normal. He stood apprehensively still, the rage and miasma gone, staring a hole into your Mary Janes. Perhaps staring at the reflection back at him.

Though he stood impossibly still, his voice gave him away in slight, wavering cracks. “...Forget what you just saw. It was merely an illusion. A trick of the light.”

“Uuuuh,” Felix interrupted. “P-Pretty sure that wasn’t-- mmph!”

Jeongin gave him a silencing, terrified eye. “Shhh!”

“......” With a passive grunt, Hyunjin continued. This time his eyes were directly on you; a wave of nervous energy pooled over your skin. “Dinner is at six p.m. sharp.” he said. “You will be there. ...We will have an encore of introductions, no...an entire reestablishment.” He turned his head viciously over his shoulder. The boy his eyes landed on squeaked. 

“Han,” he uttered. The said boy bit his lip. 

“Y-Yes…?”

Hyunjin deadpanned, in the most unamused, lifeless way. “Come.”

“Ahahahah, a-actually-- whAAA!”

A vase at the far end of the room shattered. Literally exploded, a few shards lodging themselves into innocently bystanding portraits and landscapes. When your attention strayed back, you could see Hyunjin had thrown something.

Han quickly bowed, visibly starting to sweat all over again. After a tense moment he stood, saying in the softest voice, barely a whisper, his agreement. 

Then, wringing the rings on his fingers, he nervously followed him out.

| Seven ❧

Dinner was set to be at six p.m. Attendance was apparently a requirement, given the formal invite Felix slipped beneath your door, turned back to a mouse once more (something about moonlight turning him into a...weremouse? ...The rules of his curse were rather complicated).

However, that didn’t mean that you had to be there.

“...And so that’s how I became a real boy again!” The mouse cheered, setting off a small party steamer Jeongin had granted him to lift his spirits. His tiny rodent eyes crinkled in delight as he beamed up at you from the dining table of your guest room, where the two of you were currently seated. You twitched your nose in timing with his, having stared at him and his life-story-since-last-Tuesday for far too long.

You shifted your weight to the other cheek. “So, really, all you had to do was make contact with sunlight. But you were too scared and kept to the shadows all this time.”

“Precisely! At least, I think that’s how it works!” He plopped down, digging some...cheese crumbs out of his coat. “That, and the old hasbeen wouldn’t let me leave every time I tried. Do you know when the last time I saw the sun was?! Go on, guess!”

“...Last Tuesday?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes, paws shoved up his piehole. He took a few minutes to chew and swallow. “...Oh, you’re good. No wonder you’re the chosen one to break everyone’s curse!”

You huffed, snorted really, leaning back to cross your arms in thought. A movie reel spun its way around your brain, projecting the late afternoon’s events on a white screen:

…Hyunjin’s retreating figure left some sort of impression in your mind, and Han seemed to vanish like ink washed off of a page. The moment they’d both gone, your knees buckled beneath you, hands hitting the cold pavement. Seungmin was down to your level in an instant, with Jeongin and Felix scurrying around pews, bits of rubble and broken glass.

“Y/n, are you alright? …” Seungmin asked, reaching out to you. He paused briefly to think. “...I’m going to check your pulse,” he announced.

As his fingers found their way around your wrist, Jeongin flanked to your other side with a first aid kit he’d salvaged from who-knew-where. Felix kept his distance, wringing his cap the way Han had wrung the rings on his fingers, but one look at his face told you he was just as concerned for your health as the others…he simply didn’t know what to do.

“Here, put this on her!”

“I’m alright,” you mumbled, pushing away an ice pack with sloth. Jeongin gave you a distasteful glare of sorts. 

“But you nearly fainted--!”

“I’m fine...really.”

“......”

Everyone laid off after that. 

Which you took as your cue to exit. In your retreating haste, albeit, you failed to see the sorrowful eyes that followed your fleeting back; but you could feel them, and it wouldn’t be long until they found a voice to stand upon.

“Come on, Felix,” you said. “I’ll see what I can do to get you home. I don’t know where you originally came from, but if it’s anywhere near Westwind, my friend and I can give you a lift.” ...It was the least you could do, after all. Felix hadn’t done anything wrong; he wasn’t the one that kidnapped you, or put a “curse” on you, which you weren’t even sure was real, by the way. Sure, some crazy stuff happened, but you didn’t feel any different. What if Han and the Witch and that Hyunjin guy were really all in kahoots, and this was just some kind of crazy...outrageous propaganda stunt?

Jeongin continued to stare, now in an incredulous manner. “Y/n…”

“Let her go,” Seungmin insisted, lowering Jeongin’s hand. The boy grasped the air weakly, the pulsing of his fingers mocking his faintly beating heart, breaths shallow and longing, feebly succumbing to trembles. It would have been painful to watch, had you known him better.

Felix, keeping a low profile as best he could in such tense situation, removed the beret he’d just finished placing back on his head, squeezing it before him. “...A-Alright,” he agreed after a moment. He paced over gradually at first, then broke into a nervous, jagged jog as he scuttled to your side. “Thanks…”

You smiled to hide the fear and insanity of what you’d just witnessed before. A man turning into a beast— a boy becoming like a shadow— everything that had happened up until now; it was just a dream, Y/n. A bad propaganda stunt. “Don’t mention it.” You turned over your shoulder. “...It was nice meeting you.”

Seungmin smiled, bitterly so, as Jeongin closed in on himself. “Same to you. Please, take care. I apologize for any trouble we caused you.”

With a nod, your footsteps echoed into the once-lavish corridor, Felix trailing nervously behind you. But then…

Those sorrowful eyes found their voice. “Wait, Y/n! Please, don’t go yet!” Someone was running after you. “Please stay, just for dinner at least! Please!!!”

...Your footsteps faded. Waiting.

“Please, Y/n…” Jeongin paused some ten feet away, falling to his knees to beg. “Cursed or not, only you can break the spell. I know how this must look to an outsider like yourself, but what Han said to you before in his letter...I’m sorry but I pried before he left it. He’s right. You’re one of us now. But you’re also you. And only you can save him. We…” His voice trailed off, eyes following, focusing on something in his hands...a locket of some sort? “...We gave up on ourselves a long time ago. But as weird and annoying and frustrating as he is, we made a promise to never, ever give up on Hyunjin. Like it or not he’s our boss, and our dearest friend. He’s been good to us for so many years...after all he’s done, we at least need to save him!” His eyes searched for yours, gripping his hands tightly, pleading, crying out with anguish and hope. “It might be too late, but we have to try! We can’t do anything like this...only you can save him. Please, Y/n…”

You’d been paying attention this whole time, but it was just now that you were starting to see: something dark and lively wrapping its way around Jeongin’s neck, then his right cheek. It was like a tattoo, only...alive. And moving. Black vines with thorns and heart-shaped leaves mapped their way across half the boy’s face, finally tangling into his bright, unnaturally red hair that sploched into ebony black, the color of Rei’s hair, only darker maybe, and then…

He began to fade. “...Please help him. He’s not as bad as he seems, honest! Please say you’ll stay and save him!”

...After that, Seungmin ran over and gave Jeongin some kind of shot that turned him back to normal and stopped him from disappearing, but…

What were you supposed to do when he started crying like that?! You weren’t expecting the waterworks…

Because you were both nice people, you and Felix hurried back to help, too, though all the two of you could really do was run circles around each other and agree to stay for just a bit longer. Just until dinner, you’d repeated. So we have the strength to travel.

...You would go to dinner. Really, the plan had been to just send Felix down. That wouldn’t do, though, now that you thought about it... Well, then, you certainly weren’t staying; you’d simply pop in to make sure that Jeongin kid was still alive, grab a roll or two, and then you’d be off to the nearest motel or campsite, because you certainly weren’t spending a night here. Come morning, you and hopefully Felix could hurry back to Westwind and after you took the boy home, or someplace close, you could get back to a normal life traveling and selling wares and running away from fate and customs.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Hyunjin I’m supposed to fix,” you mumbled, getting back to the small conversation. You never thought in a hundred years you’d be sitting down in some old castle out in the middle of nowhere, talking to a rat (that was really a person, but still). Your eyes scanned the window beside you, out into the foggy gray beyond where nothing but trees and old abandoned buildings greeted you, lifeless along the horizon.

Mouse Felix was still stuffing his face with crumbs of cheddar and swiss. He seemed to have found some bread crust to pair with the former ensemble. “I mean, I guess. I think I heard that one guy, Seungmin, mention something about it being for everyone though? Or I could have just been hearing things…” He swallowed, stacking another small tower. “Wow, I’ve never had such an appetite until last Tuesday…”

“......” You rolled your eyes, counterproductive to your set jaw. How the heck were you supposed to save anyone? Why you, of all people?

That annoying chant the Witch had said replayed in your mind...maybe, if you could decipher it, you’d have some answers...how did it go, exactly…?

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy

Sunrise. So when the sunrise came...but, lost? What was lost?

A cross? You surveyed the area, but you didn’t see anything like that.

What you seek...was this you, or was you someone else? What was it you, or they, were looking for? You just wanted to go home…

...All you got from the last part was that this witch was crazy. Then, the rest went something like… But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

Okay, seriously, what were you bending?! This had to be metaphorical. So bend...what, your will? Heart? Find a loophole somewhere?

Were you finding what was lost? Would you find it if you found a loophole? Or had a change of heart?

Fortunes would smile upon you...something good would come.

For the rest of your days…

…You smacked your head against the table, startling poor Felix. Who were you kidding?! You’d already decided, that old hermit in the woods was crazy. Trying to translate some old ramblings was a waste of time…!

...And effective in giving you a headache. You groaned, massaging your temples as Felix detangled himself from your locks to scamper a safe distance away. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“...Yeah. Fine.”

“...You don’t sound fine. You sound like Chan when he’s had a long night working on a new project and drank more coffee than he got work done. And I don’t think he even likes coffee.”

You turned your head. “Who’s that?”

Felix smiled. The only mouse that knew how to. “My boss, sort of. We both work for an entertainment company, at least...I did, before this happened.” He regarded himself sadly. “Ever since last Tuesday--”

You groaned again. “Urgh, I know, I get it already! Last Tuesday may as well be your catchphrase at this point.”

“...Sorry.”

“......” You peeked back at him, flicking a crumb of cheese his way. It seemed to take away all his problems like a one-way train. You sat up, grinning just a little at how cute he looked, nimbling innocently. The only rodent you’d ever find to be cute. “...Tell me more about it. About Chan, was it? And this entertainment company of yours. I honestly thought you were a farmer.”

“A farmer?” He thought. “Oh...yeah, my clothes! I grew up on a farm, and our company is relatively small. I just threw those on when I went exploring the woods.”

“And what were you doing exploring the forest on your own?”

“Uh...well,” he blushed. “I’ll tell you about Chan and the company first.”

His small, yet surprisingly bass voice carried on into the dimly-lit atmosphere. Maybe you just needed to take your mind off things. You were getting too wound up in something you weren’t even committed to being a part of. Once you saw Jeongin was okay, you’d be forgetting all about this place. So for now, you just needed to relax.

And who knew mice told such fabulous, intricate stories?

| Eight ❧

“Hyunjin, please…!”

Crash!

Another mirror. Terrific.

After their departure from the old art gala, Hyunjin had led the two to one of the many old studies that lied grungy and muted like the rest of the palace. In the circular room resided one dusty old curtain over a weathering window, a few bookshelves chalked with books likely to never be read again, a small table with various junk, a chair, another chair, a small loveseat, a slightly larger small grandfather clock...and a calendar with much angry scribbling, stains, and tears.

“Hyunjin, Jeongin can only fix so many mirrors at once...you know how this all works…you break a mirror, something in the castle vanishes. Then I take the heat for it!” 

The beast growled. “You don’t think I know that? Are you talking back to me right now?”

Han flinched. If he were human, surely he would have died from a thousand ulcers and the tight sensations of horrid anxiety by now… “N-Not by any means...Hyunjin,” With gritted teeth, he bowed his head. “Please, listen to me for a second. Let me explain.”

“Oh, that you will,” the beast grumbled. He gracefully spun himself into a red velvet chair, lifting another looking glass from the small table beside it in order to glare at himself broodingly. It made the small hairs of Han’s neck stand yielding, doing a little dance of anxiety. 

“V-Very well,” He said, standing back up straight. He gave an awkward glance at the broken mirror shards before deciding he’d better start talking his way out of another beating, and clean up later. “Our journey begins in the outskirts of Westwind city--”

Hyunjin raised his right arm, the mirror held precariously in the balance. “Too far.”

“NO DON’T!”

...Phew.

Removing the handheld treasure from the prince’s hand, his shadow took a few steps back, peering into it. Watching the door and bookshelf behind him, as shadows had no reflection. “...I traveled around...out yonder, just as you asked. Just like I said I would. I let the wind and my intuition, my hope, guide me, and within less than a day’s travel I came upon Westwind city. That’s where I found her, just outside the gates...she was accompanied by another, a young woman of close age. They looked too different to be related, so I assume it was a friend, or maybe a distant...distant relative. Anyway--”

Hyunjin sighed.

“...Anyway, I--”

“How did you know she was the one? And so close? So close to our village...it seems too good to be true. And I thought you said she was lying dormant somewhere.”

Han blinked, eyes flitting forward. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It took all his willpower not to flinch or show anymore signs of weakness. “W-Well, yes, she was, but uh...she escaped?”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. And so, I put her to the test.” 

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You put her to the test? What does that mean?”

“I quizzed her. I knocked on the door of her heart...and she ignored me quite a few times, but eventually, I got in. In exchange for a favor.”

“What favor?”

Han smiled with pride. “I’d saved her friend’s life. Or...distant, distant relative. After that, I asked her carefully, very seriously, of her thoughts.”

“...About…?”

“The curse.”

“You told her outright about the curse?!”

Seeing as Hyunjin was near fuming, Han turned on the sprinklers, fanning his arms about. “No, no! Not outright! I was very tricky! I used lots of metaphors and figuratively-speakings! She had no idea to the core of the matter, really!” ...And anyway, did it even matter anymore? Y/n was well aware by now she wasn’t exactly in Kansas anymore...

“......” Hyunjin relaxed back in his chair. “So, what did she say?”

Han searched the dusty floorboards for a minute, before slowly twisting the mirror 180 degrees. “Well, sir, it was what I said first. I asked her…”

- ❧ -

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

“...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast? Well?”

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

- ❧ -

Hyunjin leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide as saucers.

This time, he knew it, too. But he didn’t care how he must have looked. That fear died a long time ago, having stared at the many faces of Hwang Hyunjin over the years.

He simply couldn’t believe it. It really was true, then. It had to be her. The girl that would solve all his problems…!

...For the record, one should never put all their faith into one person in regards of “solving problems” or “fixing them,” but this was different. In this case, this girl really was the answer to lifting the curse plaguing his home and body for so many moons, so many long, hard-watched seasons…

And she was going to be having dinner with him. Not only that, but he only had a handful of hours left until it was all over, and everything set into stone.

The door behind Han slammed open, Seungmin entering the stage and stealing his spotlight like he normally did. Even before the curse, the boy who’d been his father’s auditor-in-training was always bursting in to bask in the limelight with his savvy knowledge, goody-two-shoes this and boring document question that.

He swears this was never the case, but Hyunjin knew better. “Do you mind? I’m having a discussion with--”

“Not now.”

“Excuse me?” Seungmin was rummaging around the room, spreading knick-knacks around, tossing books off shelves after quickly examining covers or flipping through a few pages, even going so far as to demand that Hyunjin stand so he could upturn all the seat cushions. “What are you doing?”

The boy genius frowned. “Jeongin had an episode after Y/n almost left. He—”

Hyunjin found himself shaking the boy in the next second. “Did he stop her?!”

“...Shouldn’t you be asking if he’s alright first?”

Hyunjin just continued to stare. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I was going to say, he managed to stop her. I did say almost left. By the way, Jeongin’s in peril right now, so if you could be so kind as to release me, I’d like to get back to ensuring his safety as soon as possible.”

As soon as Hyun dropped him, the boy got right back to work; tearing the room apart. Han pursed his lips.

“He had an episode? Did you give him a shot?”

The boy sighed. “Yes, but I’ve told you both before they’re only temporary. I’m looking for lavender oil, and the vine clippers. I don’t remember the original recipe to stop the ebb and flow, but I think I can make a close replacement from what I’ve read in the past.” He glanced over his shoulder a moment. “What were you getting so hot under the collar about, anyway? Is this about Y/n? Being cursed?”

Shoot, by the day, that was right. He was still angry about that. What if Han had blown it? What if this Y/n was defective now because she’d been touched by the Witch’s mad hand?

Oh, he was so going to get it if…!

“Eeek!” Han shrieked, already knowing what was to come. “Dammit, don’t remind him of that! I had just managed to get on his good side!”

Seungmin rolled his eyes again. “You’re never on his good side. All you two do is bicker and fight and run from or after each other until you’ve become one with the walls and he passes out from anger or resentment or both. ...Ah!” He smiled. “Found the clippers. Now for that oil…”

“Forget the oil!” Hyunjin roared. “We don’t have time for this! Ahh…!” He gritted both hands in his hair, looking out the window, up at the old miniature grandfather clock. “Time’s running out. Since she’s the one, we may still have a chance. Cursed or not we only have three days...two days…!”

It was at this point that Seungmin made a quizzical expression, pausing in his endeavors to pace rather calmly over to the calendar, checking the date. “...The anniversary of your curseday isn’t until next month. You have a whole season, almost.”

A...season?

“Let me see that,” Hyunjin demanded, shoving the kid aside. He peered anxiously at the line up, the rows of weeks in the calendar month that said… … …

Seungmin was right. He’d misread the date, in all his anxious spite.

He had until the next season. Until the first snowfall. Starting tomorrow, his clock would begin.

...Oh, who was he kidding?! His clock started tonight; with dinner.

In a tizzy, his whole attitude changed. No longer was he a grumpy, repulsive, bitter soul trapped in a cursed body. Mindlessly resenting his father, his past actions, the old beggar who’d shown up on his doorstep. He was a nervous young man about to have his first date in what felt like forever, because truthfully, it had been. “What am I going to wear?! ...Oh my gosh, she saw me transform…!” Horror filled his lungs with a ragged breath, hands flying to sunken cheeks. “I can’t let her see me now! But I have to! I have to break the curse...I mean, she has to break the curse! But what if--!”

“Hyunjin!” Han clamped his mouth shut. A bold move for someone that was normally terrified of him. “Calm down! I think that’s step one!” He looked around while Seungmin continued his search. “Step two would be...uh…”

“Finding an appropriate outfit?” Seungmin offered. Han beamed.

“YES, finding an appropriate outfit! Genius!”

Again, the boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who would have thought…?”

“C’mon!” The two flew past him, Hyunjin too preoccupied with his previous behavior, overwhelmed by too many truths, to even-- …

He rushed back into the room. “Did you say Jeongin was--?!”

“Let’s go,” Han ordered, yanking the househead by the collar. Leaving Seungmin alone to his bumbling foragery.

My, how times quickly changed.

| Nine ❧

Another spaghetti noodle found its way into Felix’s hair, alongside a half-eaten slice of garlic bread. 

In the great dining hall, chandeliers hung like clouds in a desecrated chamber, all covered in dust and cobwebs. A long, very long table stretched from one end of the wide room to the other, all set with dining ware meant to feed the entire Royal Family and their second cousins. A rainbow of food covered the crimson-draped platform, starting with English scones and biscuits on one end and ending with an Italian pot of gold on the other, complete with pastas, pizza, and a basket of garlic bread nestled to Felix’s right, who was seated at the table’s end. All along the walls sat candles lit with a hazy tint, casting shadows like lingering ghosts, light dancing across the faces of those present.

You slid your hand down one side of your face, safely hidden amongst the confines of two large chambers doors with one slightly askew. Good grief. You were simply waiting on Jeongin to show, to ascertain he was alright; until then, it was Felix’s one job to stall. What on earth was that foolish mouseboy doing shoving food in his hair?!

Seungmin, seated to the absent head’s left, and the only other soul in the room, cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard over the cultural expansion of what was meant to be one supper. “Felix!” he called, “Might I ask why you’re storing food on your persons? You’re...not a mouse at the moment.”

Unfortunately it didn’t reach far enough, as Felix continued to store and gobble down food. “Mm… What’d you say, cuz?”

Seungmin frowned. “I said,” he repeated, raising his voice, “you’re not a mouse anymore!”

Felix blinked, pausing red-handed while sliding a breadstick into his shirt pocket. “...Aren’t I?” He examined himself. “...Oh.” He blushed. “I suppose you did give me one of those fancy needles, didn’t you? I’m not used to being a real boy at this hour.”

Seungmin sunk back into his seat; a sigh.

Oh, but for Pete’s sake, where was Jeongin?! Seungmin could at least mention his current condition, so you could skedaddle your way to the nearest exit with a salad to-go. Better yet, some pasta and a pound of those chicken tenders sounded all the better…

No, no Y/n! Now was not the time to be thinking about food...even if it’d been a while since you last ate...more like a day…

...Ooooooh...pizza and...shrimp cocktail…

A pile of desserts rested center stage. Was that German chocolate you were seeing...?

“So,” Seungmin called. “Will Y/n be joining us this evening?”

Your attention snapped back to reality. Felix shook his head alongside tearing into a drumstick. “‘Fraid not,” he replied.

“Mm…” the other boy nodded. “...May I ask why? Is she feeling alright?”

Felix paused again. Forgetting the pasta and German chocolate, you pressed yourself against the closed door in order to be as close as possible, ear resting just next to the shaded chandelier and candlelight. 

Just like we practiced, Felix. Come on, just like we rehearsed.

“Uuuh,” Felix stammered. “Th-That’s…”

His head listed aside in thought. Ugh! No, what was he doing?! 

Felix chewed much longer than he needed to while racking his mouse-sized brain for an answer. Your fingertips pressed into old polished wood, silently begging the boy to remember what you’d just discussed twenty minutes ago.

Remember...think, dang it!

Suddenly, he swallowed. “Oh!”

Seungmin shook his head, as if waking up from a trance. “Yes?”

Felix grinned, probably with salad or something stuck in his teeth. “Y/n will not be attending this dilatory gathering due to a symptom...of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

Chink...! That was the sound of your hope cracking like a broken mirror. That sounded totally rehearsed! The lie was supposed to be that your curse made you tired and you didn’t want to be disturbed. It was perfect, since you knew one of them would insist on butting in to see for themselves, but surely would respect a young lady’s wishes to be left alone…

Though it was hard to see that far, Seungmin appeared to be grinding gears in his mind to make sense of such a suspiciously wordy sentence when, heaven’s to Betsy, the door at the far side opened, and in came a blue-haired shadow. It was the only way you knew how to describe him; he was simply put, like ink off a rain-washed page… “Wassup?!” He announced, swinging out the right-side chair.

Seungmin deadpanned, appearing to squint just slightly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Ink-boy dropped a handful of rolls onto his plate. “...Like wha— oh!”

He leapt for the door again. Seungmin rolled his eyes (something he seemed to do a lot), dabbing the sides of his mouth before placing the cloth back over his lap. “Yeah. Oh.”

At the far end of the room, Han held both hands raised, as if he were a magician about to reveal a magic trick. “May I present to you, Felix, His Royal Highness, Prince of Everain Palace, Ruler of Finance, Master of Trade, Prosperer of...prospering, President Hwang’s birthright successor of the greatest industry of all time, Hyun— …”

Crickets. 

You couldn’t visibly see it, but you knew it was there: a single drop of sweat that rolled down the side of Han Jisung’s face, as he stood frozen, one hand hovering over the engraved door handle.

“Ha...hahaha…” He did his best to smile. “...Wh-Where’s Y/n?”

Felix bobbed his head, holding up a finger while finishing off a bite of lasagna. “Mm...one second mate…” He dabbed the corners of his mouth like Seungmin had done, taking his time to tuck and fold the elaborate cloth upon his lap. 

Han twitched. Felix surely smiled, taking a painfully slow inhale.

“Y/n will not be attending this dilabitory...dilatory gathering due to a...symptom?...yeah, a symptom of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

… …

“She whAT?!?!”

You sighed. While Han had another spastic encounter with the dust-coated floor, Seungmin hollered and tried beating the boy out of it with various hard-mattered foods, the two falling into the same bickering as they had before. Felix continued to happily stuff his face like nothing was bothering him. And you, idly residing in the cold hallway, still had no idea how Jeongin was. Not a word.

Sliding your back down the door, you pursed your lips, lightly smacking two fingers over your wrist; better check yourself before you wreck yourself, just in case.

Fifty-eight...fifty-nine...sixty. Yep, normal.

But the marking on your wrist wasn’t. 

You jumped back, hitting the door and causing the noise outside to dip for a moment before returning to...what was currently normal. You covered your right wrist with the opposite hand. Held your breath. Counted to three.

Removing your fingers, slowly, something sinister stared back at you. Something...elaborate, foreign, but distinguished. Some sort of...strange dome shape, a mark made of...ink, maybe, resembling a chapel window. Or a door, perhaps?  

Upon closer inspection, in the faint light from the other room, it seemed to pulse with...some kind of...energy… … 

...When sunrise comes, and all is lost… Hmm… 

Fwoosh!

You snapped your head back, peering through the sliver of dancing light. The far door ricocheted against its adjacent wall; an ambrosial aroma wafting through the air. The candlelight...illuminated...

...A beastly man with silky black hair.

- ❧ -

You’re pretty sure you heard a noodle slip off the fork wound tightly in Felix’s hand, who nearly dropped it all the same. 

There he was; the man who’d become a monster and nearly murdered Han just hours ago, right before your eyes. The black and red miasma, honed claws, sharp teeth; all of it came flooding back to your mind like a tidal wave. 

The sudden drop in temperature made you long for candle warmth, yet flee farther into the shadows of the empty hall. Seungmin paused with a scone held once proudly and threateningly in the air, now placed delicately on his plate as he nervously slid back into his seat. Han, once choking on a fistful of salad mix, managed to wash it down and did the same, quickly and quietly so after pulling out the beastman’s seat.

Hyunjin sat down with vigor, the legs of his chair scraping harshly to the floor. He made a peculiar face, something like embarrassment albeit just a second, before hiding it behind the fluffing of his napkin and folding it onto his lap. Then he made a fleeting...was that nervous?...glance straight head, to the far opposite end of the table.

The candlelight seemed almost hesitant to cast it’s erratic glow upon the prince’s face. When his eyes met a head of orange hair, he froze, glaring. Hotly. “Where is Y/n?”

“The million dollar question,” Seungmin mumbled. It managed to echo, along with the kick beneath the table and following hiss escaping his lips a moment later. 

Hyunjin snorted, turning his gaze back to Felix. “I said,” he repeated. “Where is Y/n?”

“Yes, I heard you loud and clear, cuz,” Felix replied with an OK sign. “Gimme just a sec...ahem!”

You (silently) banged your head against the solid matter before you. Oh, sweet stars, please no…

“Y/n will not be attending this—”

“She’s not feeling well, Your Grace,” Seungmin interrupted. Phew. “Apparently she’s rather ill as a side effect from whatever curse the Witch gave her. She’s resting in the same guest room upstairs.”

Yes! Now, someone mention Jeongin’s name so you could leave with a clear conscious!

Hyunjin blinked. “Go get her, then.”

… Huh?

Seungmin nearly swallowed wrong, apparently thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin, again, snorted. “I said, go get her. It’s rude to keep everyone waiting, especially royalty.”

Felix, who had long started his meal prior to anyone’s arrival, stopped and hurriedly shoved any evidence under a spare napkin from the empty seat beside him. “Ahaha, yes, right! Waiting…! …” 

He awkwardly wiped his hands clean. Seungmin frowned. “Hyunjin…”He placed his fork down. “She’s sick. Resting. And after today, I don’t blame her for wanting to be left alone right now…” He eyeballed Felix a moment, leaning in with a hushed voice. “Remember, you have more time now...it’s better to be patient. Let her adjust first.” He turned back toward his meal. “I got the hint from Felix’s message, she wants to be left alone. Everyone’s already started eating, anywa—”

“That’s enough!”

The room swiftly grew colder. You shivered, ducking your head even if you technically weren’t present in the dining atmosphere. Oh, greif.

Hyunjin slammed his hands on the table, rocking himself upwards. “If you’re just going to back talk and give me excuses, I’ll get her myself!”

He made his way toward you, crossing the dining room on Han’s side in angry strides towards the vaguely slitted door.

Gasping, you bit your lip hard, frantically searching for a place to hide; but there was nothing. No furniture or randomly placed junk littered the path leading to the great hall. Could you outrun him, maybe? Would it make a sound? How good was his hearing? Did beastmen have the same sensitive hearing capabilities as a wolf, or a fox?

“Pardon me!”

You whirled around, witnessing the brave, possibly last, antics of Felix the Mouse...boy. His whole aura radiated positive, jittering energy, hopping lightly from one foot to the next as he put his old entertainment skills to use, all for your sake.

Hyunjin grunted, having been stopped in his tracks. He glared down heatedly. “What is it? You’re in my way.”

Felix saluted him. “Right on, bro! ...Except, that…”

You held your breath. Put on a good show, Felix. Or, better yet, ask him about Jeongin. That’s all I need to—

“...I need to pee. Mind showing me where the bathroom is?”

… … 

Oh…he just had to...go… 

You deflated like a popped balloon. Of course.

After staring almost incredulously at Felix, like trying to understand his existence, Hyunjin made some sort of irritated noise you assumed all beastmen made, shoved him aside, and continued his striding. 

You made it as far as a few paces from the first available turn before a cold voice stopped you.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Urk! … 

...You really should have just looked for Jeongin yourself.

| Ten ❧

“Where’s Jeongin?”

The room had long ago settled into an uncomfortable silence. Bitterly, you shoved a stuffed olive into your mouth, letting the salty tang of the brined fruit coax over your tongue before shivering from the sensation.

You were getting drowsy. But that also could have been from the wine Han insisted on pouring for you, and you being stressed and unsure if an evening around a beastman would be at all possible without the effects of alcohol, accepted.

You were seated across from the beast now, in Felix’s place. The boy being forced to your right...until the effects of whatever had made him a boy again wore off. As of ten minutes ago, he was a rodent yet again, nested happily in the garlic bread basket. You squinted eyes at him over your wine glass.

You totally failed the mission. Be grateful I’m having a hard time staying mad at you. And that you can safely ingest garlic.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Hyunjin’s voice boomed across the grand hall, in no more than a calm rejoinder. How he could speak so lowly and yet fill an entire hall was beyond your drunkenly buzzing comprehension.

“I just want to know,” you simply replied. “Where is he?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. Instead, Seungmin cleared his throat, excusing himself from the room.

“Wait,” You stood. “Where are you going?”

The boy awkwardly shifted his gaze from you to the door. Hyunjin suddenly stood as well. “Why do you want to know? Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Okay, okay,” Han dabbed at his face, easing the beast back into his seat, and motioning for you to do the same. “Everyone take it easy. Y/n, please excuse Seungmin, he has many responsibilities here. Hyunjin...Your Princeliness,” he corrected, “why don’t you have some more wine? I think we all just need to have a nice long drink and—”

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin ordered, scooting himself in. His shadow didn’t need to be told twice, turning back to his dinner with a small eye roll.

Steadily, with caution, you lowered yourself back into your seat, only able to watch as Seungmin gave a brief bow to you before disappearing behind closed doors. “Please excuse me,” his voice trailed behind him.

Great. He was likely the only one who’d have been bold and honest enough to tell you anything. Now you were stuck with a beast, a shadow, and a mouse that’d fallen asleep in the bread basket.

...Then this happened.

“Ahem,” Hyunjin swallowed a swish of sweet, fermented grape juice. “...T-Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said…” He swallowed again, for no particular reason this time. He kept a staring contest with his steak. “Tell me about yourself. What kind of...stuff do you like?”

“What kind of...stuff?”

A stifled noise came from Han’s lips, as he did his best to hide a smile. He spared you a polite grin before quickly whispering something to Hyunjin, like a lawyer to a client. “...Never mind!” The beastman awkwardly bleated, to which crimson coated his cheeks. He angrily picked at his plate, and the room once again fell into silence.

That was weird. Switching gears, you glanced down to your wrist. The mark from a bit earlier was still there, now lit up beneath the flickering light. Tentatively, you slipped a spare napkin, rubbing at the ink.

It didn’t budge. You tried wetting the cloth with a bit of wine when the others weren’t looking; thankfully, Hyunjin was too...enthralled in his steak, or something, and Han was too busy whispering to him.

The ink didn’t smudge, either. It was as if the markings were a part of your skin.

When sunrise comes, and all is lost… 

“What do you do for fun?”

“Wha?!” Your head shot up, focusing to see all four eyes on you. Han and Hyunjin glaring at you expectantly. You gulped, taking a deep breath to clear your thoughts. You just couldn’t get that old bat’s wacky slogan out of your head… “...What do I do for fun? Is that what you asked?”

Han gave a single nod, encouraging another conversation attempt. You lowered your head, thinking. It couldn’t hurt to participate in mindless chatter. Just until I get the information I want.

“I like...selling things. And making people happy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grew just a little. “Is...that what you do for a living?”

“Mm-hm.”

Both men were silent. Hyunjin, in particular, looked like he may have been experiencing indigestion of some sort. Then he scowled. “Shouldn’t you be home with your parents? Taking care of them? Doing something more decent?”

You scoffed. What the heck? Where did that come from? “This is how I take care of them. Almost all the proceeds go back to them. What do you mean, more decent?”

Hyunjin had opened his mouth to speak when Han cleared his throat, jumping in on the conversation. “Does your friend work with you? Her name was…”

“Rei.”

“Yes, Rei! You both sell artifacts and collectibles, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Oh…” He relaxed, indigestion cleared.

Placing both hands on your lap, you sat up a little straighter. “So where’s Jeongin?”

The beastman’s face resembled one of annoyance and grief. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

“I…” You took another swing of wine, swirling the contents afterward. Watching as your reflection altered. “I’m just curious is all. Is he doing okay?”

Something like...jealousy?...resided among the beast’s brow and set jaw. “He’s fine. Quit asking. I want you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How old are you?”

It was at this point that you’d at last had perhaps one too many swigs of sweet relief and numbness, for you placed down your glass after chugging the last bit. One out of...how many refills of this stuff have you had? “Can’t,” you stated, standing. “I got what I came here for. Now I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Hyunjin...the beast, regarded you incredulously. “Yes, leaving…” You giggled. “Leaving. Leeeeeaving… Like leaves blowing in the wind, leaf-ing.” It was a hop, skip, and a jump to the door some ten or whatever paces away. “I know that Jeongin is okay now...er, wait.” You frowned. Turned around. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

A brow was raised. “You think I’m lying? About my Jeongin?” He snorted. “Why do you care so much about him? Do you know him from a past life? Was he your lover? Do you like him now?”

“Hyunjin…” Han muttered, glaring. “Cool it...please.”

“I will not!” He rose to his feet with twice as much vigor as before, chair flying backward. Han eep-ed. “This dinner is supposed to be about you, and me. Why do you keep bringing up my blacksmith? Tell me!”

Because you were already pretty numb (good gravy what was in the wine?), you just laughed at the fact a beast was getting this angry over something so trivial to you. “Why do you care so much? Do beasts always get this angry?” You groaned, like it was all such a bother. “If you really wanna know, he had a nervous breakdown or something and begged me to come to dinner. But he got all weird...like...there were these moving images, and he started vanishing. I could see right through him!” You sighed, making your exit again. “I just wanted to know if he was alright. Turning into air like that can’t be healthy.”

“Absolutely not.”

You chuckled, nearly at the door. “Exactly, that’s what I’m say—”

“NO!”

Boom! Chik!

...You flinched. Gradually, bit by bit, you inched yourself to partially facing the dining hall.

A chunk of the table was missing. A decently-sized, pretty big chunk, torn right off the left corner. Han, on the opposite side but right next to the disaster, was twisted up like one of the noodles that’d been trapped in Felix’s hair, his face ghostly white.

Hyunjin was seething. “You are not going anywhere outside the confinements of these walls. That is an order.”

Han coughed, waving away dust and floating wood chips with minimal effort so as not to draw too much attention. “O-Okay, easy there, Hyunjin…technically…” He smiled. An apologetic one, voice skittishly squeaky. “Technically, you can’t order her to—”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!!! This is my manor, my life, my curse!!!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to order me around!” You screamed. “How dare you raise your voice to me! Over something so stupid and absurd!”

His eyes narrowed to slits, head twitching aside. “What did you just say?”

You mirrored his image. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear. Surely, as a beast, your hearing is as good as a dog. Or a bat. Or some kind of vermin.” Pushing open the door, you whipped your head around. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide...then nearly vanished behind a curtain of vexed, enraged brows. “You wanna go so badly? Fine! Get out of here! Go to your room!!!”

“Who do you think you are, my father?!”

“Obviously, running amuck from your parents has left you with a lack of discipline.”

Your jaw went slack. “What did you just say?!?”

Hyunjin smirked, a sarcastically snobbish and mocking tone to his voice. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

“Uh!” You raved. “Whatever! I’m going to look for Jeongin myself, since I can’t trust that you’d tell me anything sincere. Then, I’m out of here.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means I can’t trust anything you say, because you’re a monster!!! Then, I’m going home!”

You couldn’t quite see it, but there was a hint of pain in Hyunjin’s eyes, mixed with scars and years of regret. But everything quickly flooded back to anger and bigotry before you could count to three. “...Get back here! You’re not allowed to leave the manor! I forbid you to go anywhere except straight to your room! Do you hear me?!”

“No!”

“Yes!!”

“No!!”

“FINE!!!”

“Fine!!!”

…Slam.

| Eleven ❧

The rain coming down that night was the only thing stopping you from leaving. Not that you were afraid of a little rain by any means; no, not in the slightest. Rather, it was that you weren’t going to kill yourself over a stupid argument just to get away from a beast. You couldn’t risk catching pneumonia or a silly cold and leave Rei to handle taking care of you and the fort. Plus, there was the matter of Felix...you’d be responsible for him as well. You already told him you would.

...All of that, and it was raining pretty hard.

So here you sat, out in an old web-infested barn, slack atop a stack of hay a few feet away from the open barn doors, just watching the rain fall. Praying it would let up so you could escape. Praying no one would find you here, out in some shabby old building behind the kitchen. And what a nightmare that had been, by the way.

From your left shoulder, Felix did a nervous little jig, spinning in circles twice before bridging across your back to the other side. “Y/n…I don’t know what happened, cause that cheese and wine got me pretty good, but…” He heaved a small mouse-sigh. “...Do you think you maybe overreacted? You don’t seem like a person who gets worked up so easily.”

You scoffed. Wasn’t that right. “Yeah...you’re right. I’m not.”

“Then what happened?”

“......” It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. What did happen? Why did I get so worked up like that? Sure, there was the alcohol. That definitely had an effect. But it wasn’t everything, because now that it was wearing down, now that your mind was clearing and you’d had some time to settle down, to breathe in solitude, you...knew it was something more. There was truth in the midst of all that anger.

Felix was waiting for an answer. So were you.

“I—”

Chunk! “Y/n!!!”

You took a startled breath, turning toward an old door you could have sworn was sealed shut. “Jeongin…?”

It was Jeongin. The red-haired reason you’d decided to stick things out, albeit a little longer. The boy greeted you with flushed cheeks and a lazy smile; he still didn’t look all that well. “Y-Yeah...I came because I heard...you…”

He hunched over, out of breath. The face of another appeared behind him. “Jeongin! I told you to slow down, you’re in no condition to be running around like…” He stopped, blinking into the darkness. “Y/n? Why are you here?”

Brown hair, matching eyes. Mr. Excuse-Me-From-This-Horrifically-Awkward-Dinner. You just smiled, lazily in response. “Hello, Seungmin.”

The young...caretaker nodded, acknowledging you before being swatted away by his patient. A flash of vacancy lit up the night sky as you turned the opposite away, facing the other two in a triangle. Jeongin hustled to shut the barn doors despite Seungmin’s protests, and pretty soon the three...four of you, with Felix taking a nosedive for the hay, sat in awkward silence.

It was almost an encore of dinner not but twenty or thirty minutes ago, though not as worse. It was obvious the two of them wanted to say something, but neither wanted to be the first to speak. Finally, after twenty-odd seconds of nose scratches, unnecessary shifting, and forced coughs, the only employee with a braincell sat up a little straighter.

“Listen,” Seungmin began, using his hands to speak. “About Hyunjin—”

The beast. No thank you. You swatted your hands before you. “I do not want nor need to have another conversation about that ill-mannered buffoon.”

“...I’m pretty sure this is the first one.”

“Second,” Jeongin inquired. “...Right?”

“I’m not counting the first encounter,” Seungmin...countered. “Those never count.”

Jeongin nodded. “Yeah, I can see why—”

“Enough!” You yelled. “...It doesn’t matter if this is the first or second or even the tenth time. I can tell you one thing, it’s definitely the last.”

Seungmin gave you a pitying look. “We all have to walk on eggshells around him.” His voice sounded pleading, borderline apologetic, and all-over exhausted. “...It gets rough, I know. I understand he’s not the easiest person to get along with. He’s very different and outcast and behind the times. But if you could just hear me out for—”

“Hear us out,” Jeongin corrected. He gave you the cutest, saddest smile a boy of his caliber could possibly manage. It made your heart melt; it didn’t help that he was still ill to boot. “I heard what you did for me, Y/n. I really appreciate your concern. No one has ever stayed, especially when one of us...has an...episode.” 

His gaze grew sad and distant. You could feel your heart sizzling in a pool of pity. “...This has happened...before?” you whispered.

Jeongin nodded, Seungmin averting his eyes. “...Yeah.” He said. “Twice to Jeongin, three times to Han, Hyunjin too many to count...and uh…” He scratched his cheek, holding up an index finger. Eyes peeking shyly under the hood of neatly-groomed bangs. “...Once I may have...had a bad day.”

“Wow…” Felix mumbled, head sticking out of the hay barrel. The boy looked like a stray whack-a-mole project. “That sounds rough. Been there done that.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him down with two fingers. He let out a muffled squeak on the way down. “So…” ...You sighed. “...What is it that you wanted to say, then? This is the last time I’m listening. I only went to that banquet to make sure Jeongin was okay.” Another crack of lighting pierced the sky, followed by the ominous rumbling of thunder. “You have maybe ten minutes, since the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. But after that, I’d like to be left alone in peace until I can leave this joint. Go.”

Seungmin nearly beamed nonexistent sunshine. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Get to the basics. Just the essentials.”

“The company fell under a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair while Jeongin glanced nervously at the door. “The company, this place. The first thing you need to know about Hyunjin is that he wasn’t always this way. And I’m not just talking about the curse. He’s the son of a wealthy businessman; this is his estate. He owns the whole town...or at least, he did.” His eyes scanned the walls and dusty interior, as if checking to see if someone else was watching. As if taking in the entirety of the estate. “...Now it belongs to Hyunjin. Everything.”

You crossed your arms. “I could have put that together myself. He’s obviously a rich, spoiled brat.”

“There’s more. The people that know him personally know him for who he really is.”

You huffed. Unbelievable, really. “And what would that be?” You pressed. “A monster?”

A bitter silence flushed the room. You instantly felt a pang of resentment at that remark. Perhaps...again, that was a bit too harsh. 

“...I’m sorry.” Your arms laid in surrender across your lap. “Please continue.”

“......” Seungmin glanced to his left. “You wanna pick up from here?”

He leaned back, Jeongin lifting himself to take the lead. “...Hyunjin is a pain in the ass. He’s a pain in the morning, we basically play rock paper scissors to see who has the unfortunate task of waking him up and handling his breakfast, and to decide who’s turn it is to do laundry and lunch we place bets on when he’ll randomly combust in a daily rage or which book he’ll throw across the room first.” He counted on his fingers, listing them off one by one. “For dinner and his bath we usually draw straws or play an old board game, but Han often cheats, so…”

...His voice trailed off, eyes intently examining his mental checklist. You frowned. “...What does any of this have to do with…” Shook your head. “What are you saying again?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he bowed. Cute. “What I meant to say was that deep down Hyunjin is actually a very kind person, but...I just ended up making him sound like an overly-dependent...man...child.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twirling a piece of hay around your finger. “Well he sure does seem like it. His manners at the dinner table were atrocious and incredibly beast-like.”

“But you don’t know him like we do,” Seungmin insisted...then smiled, apologetically so, sitting up straight again. “...Forgive me. But what we’re trying to say is, Hyunjin is really a nice guy, he’s just...stuck. You definitely didn’t help with that daily ledger,” he scolded beside him. Jeongin bowed again.

“Well, sorry, I was just trying to—”

“Stuck?”

That lone word rang out like a gunshot. Seungmin and Jeongin both turned to you with sour eyes, the former swallowing a bit uncomfortably. “...Yes, stuck.”

“In what? Time? Space? Adolescence?” You tilted your head. “Because he never learned to grow up?”

“Exactly! ...Sort of.”

You glanced down to the hay-riddled fabric adorning your lap. It’d never really occurred to you to analyze or care anything for Hyunjin’s personal life, mostly because you weren’t planning on staying and the moment you saw him transform, you didn’t want to know. Your instincts told you to run, to flee, to flood your system with a coping-mechanism gene and forget and ignore what you just saw. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you were scared...and who in their right mind wouldn’t be?

...But hearing this now...even given the smallest sliver of insight…

...Well, your mother had often scolded you for being nosy. “So you’re saying he never learned how to...grow up.”

Both boys nodded. “That definitely can be said.”

“And so, that’s why he acts out.” You looked around, questions popping up about the hedge maze in your mind from every direction. “How long has he been alone here? Where are his parents? …How old is he?” Your eyes focused on Seungmin. “What happened to him, exactly?”

“......” Seungmin and Jeongin shared a look. It all but drove you crazy how long it took one of them to answer. “...Do you have longer than ten minutes?”

| Twelve ❧

“Hyunjin was born to a wealthy mother and a poor, impoverished father in the year XXXX. No one knows where or how they met; Hyunjin is very selective and quiet on the matter. However, documents of his mother’s family buried in one of many attics claim they met at some time around the Summer harvest festival, an annual event that used to take place here in New Amber.

“It was the responsibility of noble families to uphold the annual harvest ceremony at the start of the season. As a part of tradition, many noble families and a few middle class families with connections to noblemen and their wives would use this great gathering to announce engagements and arranged marriages, in order to shift the power to new families and invite a sense of balance to the community. Hyunjin’s mother was reportedly sixteen years old at her time of arranged marriage, to the wealthiest family in New Amber next to the king; a family called the Song’s.

“The Song family oversought all affairs in the king’s absence; which he was absent a lot, given his aloof nature and uncaring attitude towards politics. The Song family basically ruled the city with an iron fist; many offers came to them from pushy mothers or greedy fathers who wished for their sons and daughters to tie a knot to the family name, connecting a chain to their own. A man by the name of Yun Jeongsun, Hyunjin’s grandfather, was one such parent. He weaseled his way into the Song’s good graces, and they offered their youngest son to be wed.

“Hyunjin’s mother, Yun Haerin, was against the marriage from the start. She had no interest in marriage, and instead wanted to craft her own trade to be of use to society. She wished to work alongside the Song family, rather than become one herself. As you can imagine, this angered many people; not only did it go against protocol at the time, but refusing an offer from the ruling family was considered a huge offense. And the Song family took it that way.

“As she was packing to leave the city one night— as she’d decided to melodramatically run away from her problems— she was met with Hyunjin’s father, a dirt-scratcher named Hwang Jihoon. The Hwang family had fallen on hard times ten years prior when their oil company snagged a few false investments, and the company went bankrupt and fell under. Having learned to fend for himself and adapt to life on the streets, Hwang Jihoon saved Yun Haerin from some typical back alley bandits, and finding her fancy offered to escort her to her new life outside of town.

“As you can probably guess, the two fell in love during their travels, and settled for a simple life outside of New Amber. However...Hwang Jihoon wanted more for his family. 

“No one in the Hwang family ever forgot or gave up resenting the hardships they faced. And no one especially more than eldest son Jihoon. To summarize and keep this short...Hwang Jihoon became a tyrant. He used Haerin’s maiden name to forge a new path for the Hwang’s, and eventually, the nameless city they had escaped to fell flat. It couldn’t withstand the intense amount of economic tyranny and inflation. The taxation without representation. Hwang Jihoon had swindled his family to the top and drained the entire community dry.

“So they went back to New Amber. For stability. For revenge. Now having the security and stability he needed, which he stole from others, the Hwang family came back with an iron fist of their own. Due to a current drought and a bad economic year, not to mention the king up and abandoning his people, not even the Song family could stand up to them. And promising a new resurrection of New Amber, Hwang Jihoon took the throne.

“He crowned himself King of New Amber and tore half the city apart drilling for oil. As luck would have it, the community had been sitting atop a natural oil reserve that flooded the country back into promising times. Things were actually quite peaceful for the first five years...until they ran out of oil. Taking the snag in stride, however, Jihoon used his deceit and backhanded tactics to manipulate the economy, trading and stealing from other cities. Because he was so crafty, no one caught on until it was too late.

“Hyunjin had been born just a year before. Upon his birth, Haerin and Jihoon began having marital problems, according to a diary entry by Haerin. In it she claims to have regretted her choice in marrying Jihoon, and that she’d fallen out of love with him. She claims that his only interest was power and revenge, tearing down the social hierarchy to make everyone pay— and the unfortunate effects it was having on everyone. 

“In her last entry, Haerin claimed to fear for her life. She wrote that Jihoon had violently threatened to forfeit her life if it meant continuing his reign. She was never seen or heard from after that…”

...Seungmin’s voice grew faint for a while. Tension in the air rose higher, the thickness suffocating.

You couldn’t believe such a tragic and long-rich history had occurred in such a wasteland. It obviously had fallen eventually, but…

You needed to hear more. “...So he killed her? Then what happened?”

Seungmin nodded, slowly. “It likely wasn’t him. Due to his constant appearance in the public eye, it’s more probable to say he hired someone to do the job.”

You shivered. How awful. 

As Jeongin fished out and dusted off an old blanket for you, his light coughs echoing around the barn, Seungmin continued. “With Haerin gone and the Yun family name no longer needed, Jihoon continued to thrive and plunge the city to new heights— and a harder fall. He manipulated the economy to continue spinning in his favor; meanwhile, as years flew by and he became older, he began having thoughts of the future, and who would succeed in his place. Because he was a man with no trust in anyone but himself, he summoned his only son— Hwang Hyunjin— to be molded in lessons of business and trade. How to lie, cheat, and steal.

“Supposedly the brainwashing began around the age of nine. Hyunjin had been a clueless child sent away to be cared for by a few nuns from the community in a remote location before; he’d grown up without any friends, never knowing the love of a mother or father. Only the required care provided by the Sisters of the Church. However, that does not mean he was never unhappy; the sisters did a fine job of raising him, and they truly did grow to love Hyunjin as their own.

“Of course that all changed when he was taken back to the palace. From then on Hyunjin spent his days locked away in the estate’s highest tower, like a prince out of a fairytale; forced into the education of topics he could scarcely fathom. Another maid who kept a journal of her own reported the occasional, almost frequent scream coming from the prince’s tower. She noted them as punishments for incorrect responses and behavior.

“Hyunjin was fourteen when his father died. Five years of torture and humiliation, along with a healthy dose of effective brainwashing, formed him into an angry and bitter soul. Originally, he wanted nothing to do with his father’s company. He wanted nothing to do with the position of king; but being outnumbered and powerless against the force of countless impoverished civilians forced him to make changes. 

“...I did the best I could to help him. As an advisor in training to Jihoon, I truly did what I could. Honestly, seeing him that one day...the day of his coronation...it fascinated me. There, I thought. Up there on the highest balcony. That’s the boy rumored to be the source of the screaming at night. That’s the boy who is Jihoon’s only son. His flesh and blood. The son of the late Haerin, a lasting survivor of the Yun legacy.”

Seungmin took a deep breath here, sighing out into the open space between you. Watching him flashback nearly took your breath away.

“...And so it came to be that Hwang Hyunjin took the downfall of his father’s handiwork. The moment he sat down at the throne, all the lies his father weaved came unraveled. All the shortcuts and manipulation tactics came back to haunt him. All the stolen time and resources were forced to be paid back in full. Hyunjin could hardly bear the weight of it all; the toll was almost too great. Many people saw him as cursed, and up and fled the palace to be with their families in poverty. But they hadn’t seen anything yet...”

“So…” You hesitantly reached a hand forward, then flinched, retracting it. “...I’m sorry to interrupt. But how did he...um…”

Seungmin gave a bitter half-smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’m almost there.

“One night at the head of a harsh Winter, an old woman showed up seeking shelter. Hyunjin was out stalking the palace halls lamenting his position, and upon answering, turned her away.”

Your eyes widened. “She was...the Witch of the Biome. Er, whatever her name is…”

Seungmin nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Witch revealed herself to Hyunjin, and put a curse upon all who were present within these walls. At the time that was...well, there were a few others, but before you ask about them...they’re gone now.”

You listed your head a moment before realizing what he meant. “...O-Oh...I’m so...sorry…”

The advisor shrugged. “It was a while ago. There was nothing we could do about it. It was their choice…”

Sniffling filled your ear from down below. You bowed your head to find Felix with tears in his eyes, turning to you in need of comfort. Gently, you lifted him onto one leg, hovering cupped hands around him. “And then?”

“Then...well…” He gestured around him. “Here we are today. After the people saw what he had become, families and villagers left, some in hoards, others more sparingly. But eventually the whole city was left to erosion. Hyunjin couldn’t hide his curse forever; and neither could we.” 

He stood suddenly, dusting stands of hay and a few piles of dust from the atmosphere away from him. Outside, the sounds of clarity of nightfall graced your ears.

“So now you know. This is Hyunjin’s story...and our own.”

“So then, why am I here?”

This question seemed to catch Jeongin by surprise; but Seungmin smiled as if anticipating the notion. “The Witch tends to spout riddles about how her curses can be broken; it’s like some weird tick or bad habit while she’s casting them. Or maybe it’s just the incantation itself; no one really knows. However…” He scratched his cheek, looking to Jeongin for confirmation. The red-head nodded. “We were hoping you would be the one to break the curse. You see, the incantation, according to Hyunjin, went something like this:

“Lips to lips and mouth to mouth Calls the speaker of the shrouds Summon forth your courage and might In order to love and end within night But yet if still ye cannot fathom Ending here the chilling anthem Suffer still and face your demise For all the passing days of sunrise.”

The smallest gasp escaped your lips. Sunrise...sunrise. When sunrise comes, and all is lost...

“...Hyunjin sort of lost his way after the curse was cast. Well...no. He’d lost his way a long time ago. I guess what I’m trying to say is, he never found his way to begin with. So he really lost it after the curse hit, and he was forced back into hiding. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Everything was so...messed up. It was just a mess. His whole life had been a dark, night-infested wasteland...much like this town, almost...and then it was like someone came and dropped a hedge maze over it. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He was already lost. So he just...screamed. And cracked. He broke, like many of the mirrors you’ll find around here. Covering it up with a delusional fantasy. That’s why he acts the way he does; sort of like he’s just existing, and nothing is really wrong. Inside...it’s chaos inside his mind. Just an ill-chosen coping mechanism to disguise the front of war. So, Y/n…”

You flinched at the mention of your name, sitting up straighter. Seungmin looked down upon you with an intense fire.

“Now that you know the story, what will you do? I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into staying, so I hope you don’t feel that way. Nor did I tell it to scare you. You have nothing to fear but fear itself; something we’ve been trying to teach Hyunjin for a long time…” He sighed.

You glanced around the worn-down barn. At the empty hay barrels, the decaying wood structures, the various puddles of rain seeping in. What were you going to do? It was a tough decision to make...and a lot of information to process.

Your eyes traveled down to the lone marking on your wrist, now appearing to have settled into something bolder. It was definitely a petal, or an ambrosial symbol of some sort. The Mark of the Rose… 

You swallowed hard. It would seem your destiny had led you here. Even if it was a sudden destiny, a fate you never asked for. If you were going to get your old life back, well, it looked like you were going to have to take a detour. “I think...I’m going to do what I have to.”

At the other side of the barn, Seungmin blinked, remaining ever calm and collected since the moment you first met him. Jeongin, on the other hand, bore his eyes into you as if waiting to hear the climax of the story. “And what’s that?” Seungmin asked.

You stood, placing Felix on your shoulder. “You’ll see. Just watch me.”

| End Act One ❧

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

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[sabraeal]

All That Remains, Chapter 7: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 4]

[Read on AO3]

Written in honor of @claudeng80​′s birthday! I’m only a week and change late this time, but everyone knows what they’re getting into when they request this fic for gifts-- aka, me dithering for weeks on if a chapter needs to be cut and where it inevitably needs to happen. But here is an almost 5K labor of love...and a little bit of hope... :3c

It would easy to speak of good and evil, would it not? To condemn a sorceress for her conjuring, to pity a girl and her deception. That is the way such tales are crafted: for simplicity, moral lines drawn in the sand.

But life does not fit so easily into the pages made to contain it. A line of prose may distill it to its essence, but a word spoken, an act done by a living creature-- these contain multitudes.

“Well.” Lady Mihoko fixes a shrewd glance over the rim of her teacup, pinning Shirayuki to her chair. Bombazine may creak with her every breath, but when Mihoko sets her demitasse upon its saucer, it is silent. “You are much improved.

The words alone would make a compliment, but with the way her ladyship threads them through her teeth, it is an accusation. Her eyes narrow even now, a proctor determined to catch her pupil filching answers from across the aisle.

Still, it’s the kindest words Mihoko has ever managed to spare, and Shirayuki seizes them with both hands. “Thank you, Lady Mihoko.”

All her ladyship’s fine graces do not restrain her from a humorless grunt. “Do not think it so fine a feat. You could hardly have gotten much worse.” With another contemplative sip, she adds, “But your progress is at least...heartening. You might not be entirely hopeless.”

Polite, tea-appropriate smile firmly in place, Shirayuki casts her eyes down at her plate. How fortunate she is to be able to experience such a fine example of being damned by faint praise.

He mouth does not twitch; by now, she knows better than to allow any of her facial muscles free reign in the presence of the lady-- but it does waver. It was not her own voice lilting those words.

A toe nudges her ankle; the consort’s countenance is carefully composed of bland inquiry across from her.

“You are too kind,” Shirayuki manages, smile polished back to its original brilliance.

“I am.” She settles back in her chair, spine straight as a rod, conveying that her enjoyment of the meal now resides firmly in the past. “You are lucky indeed that Her Majesty deigned to take a girl like you under her wing. How fitting it is that my best student is responsible for righting my worst.”

“It is only because I had such a good tutor that I could even attempt to teach.” The consort sets her own cup onto its saucer, mouth rounded in a pleasant curve. Shirayuki’s never mastered the art of it, to smile to brightly with so little teeth or crinkling around the eyes, but on Haki the effect seems natural, right. “But I must say that Lady Shirayuki is a pleasure as a student. A quick mind and a dedicated learner.”

“What she lack in aptitude she certainly makes up with vigor,” Mihoko allows grudgingly. “In my day, that would not be near enough to make a lady.”

It would be easy to condemn the sorceress, would it not? To raise the roses from their bed and cast the bright light of truth upon them, to drag her into the village square and expose her as a deceiver, a most vile villainess to lead this stray girl astray. We would stretch our hands through the pages if we could but shake our girl awake, if we could put our hands around the throat of the conjuress and see she never bent another illusion--

But that would miss the point entirely. You were told, so long ago now, that life does not fit into the narrow confines fiction demands. Surely you have not forgot?

There is a reason for every action. Unfortunately.

“That is true enough.”

The consort speaks in honeyed tones, mouth composed in a thoughtful pout. But that, Shirayuki knows, is merely an inoffensive mask she wears, one that may be discarded at a moment’s notice. It is always her eyes betray her, burning with an intelligence she can never fully quench.

“But was that not also the era of the former Viscount Yuris? Or the Counts of Sui and Lido?” It should be an accusation, a condemnation, but from the consort’s mouth, it is little more than a polite conversation, small talk between two peers. “So many traitors in so few years.”

Shirayuki may have gained some dominion over her face, but not near enough to keep from glancing at Lady Mihoko.

“That is the nature of the peerage,” her ladyship says after a long moment, mouth pursed in a moue of discomfort. “There are always some that choose to overreach their bounds. It is up to every lord to manage his lands in his own way. Though I know Your Majesties have...newer ideas about such things.”

“Better ideas,” the consort reminds her, both silk and steel entwined. “Under the late king, the court grew indolent, as did the crown. If he had not passed when he did, Clarines might have become another Tanbarun.”

Shirayuki’s teeth grit down, stemming the tide of protest that crashes against  them. She had fled her home with little pride or trust in its royals, and it’s not as if she cares for the institution, but-- Raj was no longer the embarrassment he’d once been. It’d be a long time before he’d earn as lofty a reputation as Izana or Zen, but, well, he was trying. And as long as his father remained on the throne, that was enough.

She doubts either of them would appreciate the opinion. It’s not as if any of this is about Tanbarun after all.

Mihoko clucks her tongue. “I would not venture to say we had fallen so far as that.”

“No,” Haki agrees, so pleasant. “But I would.”

A silver spoon clatters to a dish, Mihoko’s aged fingers trembling above it. “That would be your prerogative, Your Majesty.”

“It is my prerogative to see to the quality of my husband’s court, my lady. While once this may have referred to the breeding of its members, I believe we have come beyond that. After all, Lord Zakura was hardly born with silver in hand, or Lord Sui, or Countess Yuris.” The consort hums, delicately setting aside her demitasse. “There would be worse things than to see one of the finest minds of our time raised to a position which suited it.”

Her ladyship does not smile-- a terrible business, nowadays, she would cluck, spoon chiming against the rim of her cup, men should know that every smile returns tenfold in ten years’ time-- but there is a softening in her face. Not of agreement, but allowance.

“We shall see,” she sniffs, waving away another tray of sandwiches. “In time. But none of that removes what a wonders you have wrought with this one, and in less than a month’s time.”

Haki dips her head, the barest bow. “Imagine what a lifetime might bring.”

“Yes.” Mihoko narrows her eyes above the rim of her cup. “Quite unforeseeable.”

What does it mean to conjure, to summon something from nothingness, to breathe life where there once was none? It is no mere illusion; not smoke and mirrors and lies shined until gleaming. Not just a lady’s magic, no substance nor thought, made of wishes and air alone.

No, it is creation; the act of sinking one’s hands into clay and forming something utterly unlike its origin, to take one’s will and give it form. It is any surprise that it is the provenance of women?

But that is the thing, is it not? For every creation, there must be a will, must be a spark. For man to be made flesh, there must first be clay. For illusion to be made real, there first must be a wish.

“One, two-- a sprightly pace if it pleases you, my lady! Lift your feet--”

Sweat spirals down her spine, but Shirayuki picks her heels up of the floor, her sashay the barest whisper of slipper sliding across wood. Far from the ethereal wood nymphs cavorting across the palace’s walls, but it carries her across the floor with far more grace than she’s ever managed before. Like flying, provided it was a hen across the chicken yard.

Shirayuki careens more than glides to the next sequence-- the turn, three, four, return, one, two-- and her heart lodges firmly in the vicinity of her throat. She’s never managed this one before, not without stomping on Arundo’s toes or gravity ruthlessly asserting it dominion over her, dragging her to the earth where she belonged, but--

Haki’s hand squeezes tight around hers before lightening into a lift, pulling right over her head. She curls under it, up-up-down, before swinging back, far less measured, but a thousand times more triumphant.

So many of these story children start with nothing-- unloved and unmissed, abandoned by their parents, scorned by those meant to replace them. But this girl--

This girl was loved. She did not have the mother and father that so many other had, one taken by fate and the other duty; but her grandparents tended her in their place. While other little girls were scrubbing floors, or chopping wood, or being chased into the forest with only the bread in their pockets, she was adored; a treasure on her home’s hearth.

And then, in a breath, it was gone. No time for tears, for contemplation. No time for grief.

She does what all bold little girls do: she moves forward, she adapts. All those fears and grief she locks away; a little drawer inside her mind that only opens in the dead of night, when sleep won’t come to her. How worn those memories are by now, frayed about the edges, folded and thin from neglect.

Strange how it is always children who bear the heaviest burdens. Stranger still that they can grow to used to them, that they can bear them even unto adulthood and hardly realizing they are carrying them at all.

That is, of course, until they are lifted.

“You did it!” Haki catches her arms, stopping Shirayuki’s body from crashing into hers, a smile stretched wide across her face. “With not a step missed.”

“I did,” she bursts breathlessly, nearly sagging in relief. “I did!”

A clap cracks in the cavernous room, but it is only Arundo, his own mouth parted in delight. “Brava, my lady! I am most impressed.”

“As well you should be!” The consort steps back, letting her stand on her own two feet. “There are plenty young ladies I have seen on a dance floor that have not done half so well as Lady Shirayuki.”

Even flushed with victory, Shirayuki knows that for an exaggeration; a thick bit of flattery to bolster her confidence. But it hardly matters, not when she traveled the whole floor without a single misstep.

“I truly despaired of ever teaching Lady Shirayuki much more than swaying in place.” Arundo glances at her partner shyly, color high in his cheeks. “I see it merely took a deft lead.”

“Ah, Master Arundo, it takes a woman to understand how difficult a lady’s part may be.” Haki huffs out a laugh that is far less dainty than one she uses in front of courtiers, sweeping long strands of gold from the frame of her face. “If I knew which place to help, it is only because I remember where I most needed it. As my dancing instructor used to say, we all start at the same place.”

“Still,” Arundo insists, “for you to be able to dance the man and the woman’s part-- a most impressive feat!”

“Not at all!” Haki loops the last of her wisps around her ears, and just like that, the consort’s smiling mask slips into place. “This is but a simple waltz. You yourself must know a hundred or more, and dance both parts with skill besides.”

The dance master waggles a finger at her, playful. “Ah, but in the realm of grace and elegance, Your Majesty has far outstripped my paltry skill.”

With the high drama for which the Viandese were known, Arundo swept into a deep bow, bending near in half. Over his back, Haki glanced at her wide-eyed, mouth twitching, though any proof of it was gone before he rose.

“Please, Master Arundo, I am merely well-practiced.” The consort’s mouth tilts, a wry smile playing at her lips. “Izana and I often switch when we...”

Haki’s eyes pulse wide, her cheeks blossoming with a delicate pink. “In any case, I would not have done so well had Lady Shirayuki not already been through the best instruction.”

You see, Miss? Obi’s laugh is bright in her ears, as if he were only right beside her. Anyone can do it. And if you stumble, only stand on my feet and I’ll guide us both through it--

An arm slips through hers, the consort leaning close. “Won’t my brother be surprised to see such progress?”

Shirayuki cannot fathom why Makiri might care about her dancing. He’s seen it before, both of them often pressed into the same endless dinner parties at Lilias, the sort that always seemed to turn into dancing and awkward moonlight professions. He’d been light on his feet when any of the girls dared to approach, not a born dancer like Haki, but a competent one; when she’d clomped past him, dragged by regretful partners, he’d only raised an eyebrow-- an improvement upon the usual sneers she garnered from fellow revelers. He’d never been forced onto her dance card, but still--

Haki slips her a wink, and oh, it’s not her brother she means, but Zen.

You’re supposed to be learning to dance with him, after all. Even in memory, Obi’s smile cuts like a knife’s edge. No wife dances with any man besides her husband.

Shirayuki’s palms sting where her nails cut crescent into them. This room, it’s-- it’s far, far too small. Too tight. So confining, little more than a cage--

“Shall we break for a moment?” Arundo’s jovial lilt crashes through her thoughts like a bird to a window. “And then we shall start the next!”

“A perfect idea, Master Arundo.” Haki smiles down at her, so bright that the shadows of her thoughts burn away. “I dare say my sister has earned a break.”

It was always just enough for this little girl: a grandfather, a grandmother, a loving home and hearth. There had been no dreams of another there, not even when she lost them, not even when she pruned her roses and found another set of hands to take hers. Not even when those hands became a home in themselves.

But with a single word, uttered so casually, a drawer springs open.

Sister. The word echoes through Shirayuki’s head as they walk. There’s an itch of irritation beneath her skin, a pebble in her metaphorical shoe, but still--

Sister. She’s damp, not gently dewed like Haki, so drenched in sweat that her dress clings to her. Fatigued too, every muscle aching, including a few that hadn’t been in her textbooks. She has every reason to want to bury herself in her covers, to try to find the reason her skin feels too tight.

But that’s not what her attention’s caught on, not in the slightest.

“I’m not your sister,” she says, wishing she hadn’t at all. It would be so easy for it to be taken away, for that soft glow in her chest to be snuffed out.

“No,” Haki agrees, looping her arm through hers as if it belongs there, as if she belongs. “But you will be.”

In the morning the girl rose, the cottage empty save for the scent of honeysuckle and forsythia. Her small feet padded across the floor, right to the window latched tight against the night. She pushed up to tip-toe, fingers flicking against metal, and--

And her first sight was a garden, piled high with blooms; a paradise that belonged on a canvas in oils, not at her fingertips.

Do you see? the sorceress asks, rising from where she tends her beds. I awake to this glory every morning. You could as well, if you wanted.

I can’t, the girl says, certain.

The sorceress blinks. And why not?

I... The girl stares out over all this beauty, its scent surrounding her. I do not remember.

Ah, well then. The sorceress smiles, the way she always thought her mother would, had she known her. Then stay a while, and perhaps we will help you remember together.

“May I...” Shirayuki hesitates, biting her lip as they take another winding curve through the halls. The longer she stays within the palace, the more she’s certain: she could live a lifetime here and never knows all the twists and turns it takes. “My I ask you a question?”

The consort peers down at her, both eyebrows lifted in gentle question. “You may.”

“How do you do this all day?” Shirayuki restrains herself from sagging in her stays, whalebone the spine that keeps her upright. “It’s hardly evening and if I hold my shoulder back a moment longer, I think I’ll...”

Collapse, she means to say, but it lingers at the tip of her tongue, too sweet, too untrue. Scream is close, rend this dress to pieces closer still, but closest--

Her mind snaps tight around the thought, a steel trap with a wolf’s paw between its teeth. From the murmurings she’s heard since she first came to Clarines, Wistal has seen enough madness for a lifetime.

“Ah, you see, the secret is--” Haki leans in, looping her arm through hers-- “I don’t.”

Shirayuki blinks.

“You are still learning,” the consort continues, setting herself upright, setting their arms into the proper form ladies strolling. “And thus, you must memorize protocol every day, eat your meals under supervision, and practice the mazurka. I, however, have mastered all this, and thus, I cannot remember the last time I waltzed outside a ball.”

“But the etiquette--” the poise, the presence, the elocution-- “surely..?”

“Well, of course.” She shrugs, jostling their elbows. “But those lessons were a part of my childhood, much like how you probably learned to cook and clean and pick herbs instead of poison. It all becomes second nature to you, in time.”

Shirayuki doesn’t have the heart to tell her how easy it was to mistake mushrooms, but her point-- well, it’s a good one. “I’m not sure that will ever happen for me.”

“Perhaps not,” the consort allows mildly. “Certainly they will never seem as natural to you as they might to a lady born to manors and castles. And had you continued to try to learn manners from a book, than you would have had no hope at all. But--” Haki pulls her closer to her side, mouth curled with satisfaction-- “you are not alone, you have me.”

Her cheeks flush with heat; the very same as the flame that warms her chest. “Do I?”

“You do.” The consort nods, the sort that says she expects her will to be followed to the letter. “I have always wanted to share these things with someone. Alas, I was given but a single brother, and he my elder. But now I have you.”

What was it we said? A human heart has four chambers, beating in concert. A complex thing, a puzzle box of wants and desires, one buried beneath the other, a dangerous tower of longing crushed inside a container too small to hold it. And all of us live our lives never knowing its depths, not until a drawer springs open, and oh--

Oh how easy it is for our longing to sneak up on us, all unknowing. How easy it is to be blinded by it.

When the consort smiles-- really, truly smiles-- it’s too bright, like looking into the sun, and Shirayuki has to duck her head or be blinded. She’s light-headed from only a moment of basking in its radiance; she can’t imagine what might happen if she dared to look more.

“Besides,” Haki continues blithely, skirts brushing their slippers as they walk. “You could drop an entire tureen on my brother and I think he would adore you just the same. Maybe even more, if you dropped it on the right person.”

A laugh bubbles up from her, and oh, oh, it has been far too long-- it leaves her, a cage thing finally freed from its chains, and rampages through the hall.

Haki stares down at her, pale eyes wide and almost wary. For a moment her mouth works, rounding as if she might say, a lady laughs like a bell, not a gong, just like Mihoko--

And then she joins in, just as wild.

But how can she forget about her precious boy, you might ask? How can she forget about her home?

The answer is easy enough: one must only provide a new one. Oh, how easily a heart may be fooled when the illusion is so pleasant, when it is so wanted. Men on the verge of death imagine entire cities in the desert, oases just over the horizon, luring them yet another step to their doom. When there is no relief, no hope, when only doubts encompass us--

That is when we are most in need of fiction. Of an escape, of respite. How simple it can be to close ones eyes to harsh reality when it is paradise that lays before them.

But take heart-- such things never last. They cannot. It is folly to suggest there is no life without suffering-- an excuse to give breath to all kinds of evil-- but for plenty to have meaning, there must be a lack. To know joy there must be sadness, to know wisdom there must be ignorance, and when all one’s days are filled with a mindless, monotonous bliss--

Well, there is no paradise from which man does not escape, and no garden that will keep a little girl from what she seeks.

“Ah!” Haki’s jolts ahead, a filly at the end of her lead. Shirayuki nearly is dragged with her, her feet stumbling over the hem of her gown, but the consort extricates herself just in time, setting her to rights.

“Just-- just wait here a moment, if you would,” the consort tells her, fingers wound tight over the rounds of her shoulders. “It seems as though there is, ah, someone waiting for me at the door. I’ll only be-- a moment.”

Shirayuki blinks as the consort scurries away, skirts sweeping against the carpet in a rhythm and pace too hurried for Clarines’ stately queen. “But, your room is...”

Around the corner, she almost says, a better shorthand for not yet visible, which is what she means. Both points are moot; the consort springs away long before she can speak, the only part of her that remains the lagging lace of her train. And then even that is gone, all disappeared down the hall.

Perhaps it is the angle, Shirayuki allows. With her on the inside of the turn and the consort on the outside...?

Well, it hardly matters. She huffs out a breath, straightening her shoulders, and comes to stand in the intersection. This is a safe enough place to wait; the consort’s chambers are the first door on this hall, and--

And there is someone waiting. Or was, since all she catches of them the flash of a white coat.

The girl knows every inch of this garden in time, every undying bloom. For that is what they must be, at least for them to be so many, for so long. There are daffodils and daisies, dahlias and tulips, marigolds and gardenias, lilacs and lilies of the valley. A hundred flowers and more, too many to ever name crawling up lattice and sprawling over the bounds of their beds.

And yet, there is something missing. It sits at the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, but she cannot find the word, no matter how long she thinks on it. The only thing that comes to her is the memory of loam, and the warmth of hands brushing hers.

Don’t ever leave me, the sorceress would say, a smile on her lips, fingers tangled in her hair.

How could I, the girl would laugh, an inexplicable knot of dread tightening in her belly, when everything is so beautiful here?

“Shirayuki!”

Haki approaches her, smile wide and warm but also-- strain lingers at the corners. Maybe even displeasure. “I thought you were going to wait.”

“I was,” she says, wide-eyed. “I mean, I am. Who was...”

“No one.” The consort waves her off. “Just a delivery. A tisane. For my migraines. I ran out just the other day.”

“Oh.” Her mouth works, grasping for the words that had come so easily no so long ago, but now were like grinding glass. “From the pharm--?”

“Come!” Haki sweeps her arm up into her own, pulling her firmly against her side. “It’s time for dinner, isn’t it? We must see that you’re ready.”

It ends like this: she finds a petal.

It is no crimson red, no passionate pink, but instead a simple and clean white, not so unlike the gardenia. But it is too small for such a flower, too rounded, too plush. She presses it between her fingers and it is familiar as her own skin, as the scent of vanilla on the air, and yet she cannot find the name, nor envision the bloom from whence it fell. Surely it is nothing in this garden.

What it that you have? the sorceress asks, her voice suddenly sharp, like a blade placed between skin and bloated tick. Give it here.

The little girl has not reason not to. It must have blown in from elsewhere.

The sorceress takes it in her hand, slender fingers curling into a fist around it. When they unfurl it is gone, merely dust in the wind.

We need none of that world here, the sorceress says, kinder but firm. You will never leave me, after all.

Of course, the girl says, turning to her with a wide smile. The sorceress has a new hat on, black and covered in flowers, even finer than the ones she’s worn before. Why would I, when--?

Her teeth snap down, words stuck between them. It’s the only way to be safe, the only way to stop herself from saying now what she knows she cannot. Right there, painted on the cloth, next to a blood red dahlia--

--There is a rose. The sorceress’s hat has roses, and this garden does not.

Of course, she says again, stilted. This is where I belong.

Shirayuki stands frozen in the hall, mind churning like a mill’s wheel in the storm of her thoughts. The summer months mean whites and creams and ivories are in season, a playful palette that the consort’s court adorns with floral embroidery. But she did not see a floating train of silk, or the fluttering layers of linen, but instead--

A white coat. A brown paper package done up with twine and ink scrawled illegibly on the outside, passed so quickly from one hand to the next. The scent of herbs is fresh on the air, valerian among them.

She misses it. Almost as much as she misses...

“Shirayuki?” The consort tugs at her, a question writ across her brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Haki...” Her hands clench at her side. “Has there been any news of Obi?”

That is the thing about magic: it is easy to weave wishes into illusion, but to maintain it-- a different matter entirely. A woman may send all her roses underground, never to be seen again, but to remember to remove them from every vase, from the back of a brush, from a hat--

Impossible.

“Obi?” The consort’s grip tightens, even as her smile spread wide. “No, none at all.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #All That Remains #snow queen AU #ans #i really and truly thought i'd get to finish out this section #but NO #it is not to be #to be fair it's one of the longest in the story #and it has the most like...plot movement in one piece #so i guess it makes sense #but SIGH #soon guys #soon we'll get to the turn on this #NEXT CHAPTER FOR SURE

[crossoversfics]

Boy Genius (Chapter 1)

(Spencer Reid x Malcolm Bright)

Reid pushed open the clear glass doors to the BAU offices. There was a hurried air about the place, which was quickly made even more so when Garcia appeared at the top of the stairs waving him down.

“Reid! We have a case! Hotch wants us to meet him in the briefing room ASAP!”

“Coming!” He called back.

She nodded and shuffled/walked in her trademark fashion into the briefing. Reid noted that she was wearing her fuchsia pink lipstick as well as her most over the top dress with the sequins. Penelope liked to compensate for the evil that paid their bills with her extremely ‘vibrant’ wardrobe. The more she stood out the worse it was. He frowned to himself, the case must be bad.

Almost the moment he was through the door, Morgan grabbed his shoulder and leaned in, “Kid, we found him”. 

For the second time that day, Reid frowned, but he knew exactly to what Morgan was referring, “Dr. Arthur? How? We haven’t had a lead in almost five years.”

“NYPD just called,” Hotch answered for Morgan, “two new bodies were found in Grand Central”.

To be precise, the remains of two bodies were found,” Garcia wrinkled her nose as she clicked through the slides, “Two hours ago NYPD was called to Grand Central Station for a bomber threat. The caller did not identify himself but gave explicit instructions on the location of a bomb. When police arrived, they did not find a bomb, instead-.”

“They found two bodies that had recently been in an explosion,” JJ said softly looking at the images on the screen.

It was all Garcia could do to nod in reply.

Was there any sign of pre-mortem torture before the explosion?” Prentiss asked, a thoughtful expression came over her features.

Yes, and the ME was able to determine both victims were males but they are still waiting on ID’s”.

Reid noticed Garcia peeking at the plasma but quickly she closed her eyes again. He flipped through his paper folder, and noticed a small detail he hadn’t recognized previously, “This says that the teeth were removed?”

Yeah, I saw that too,” Rossi replied twisting his signet ring around his finger, “It says that the ME noted the teeth had been removed pre-mortem as well. What’s that about? Is this a part of the torture?”

“If this is Dr. Arthur it would go against his previous MO. He always left the victims’ faces untouched when he tortured them”. Morgan’s eyebrows knitted together as he spoke.

Hotch chimed in, “That’s the first thing we need to rule out. Five years is a long dormant period for any serial killer so this could be a copycat trying to impress him or is too inadequate to come up with an original MO. Wheels up in twenty.”

Everyone began exiting the room, but Garcia’s voice stopped them.

“Wait, wasn’t this the guy that alternated between bombing buildings and then torturing two men before blowing them up somewhere else? Isn’t that this guy?” She gulped a little as she spoke.

“Yes,” JJ nodded slowly, “Which means copycat or not we don’t have long before an actual bomb goes off.”

She locked eyes with Reid, and he saw the tension in her jaw. “I’m fine JJ,” he said as they walked out, “He won’t get away this time.”

“No he won’t,” Morgan agreed squeezing both of their shoulders, “This time we will bring him in.”

“You sure about that?” JJ’s voice held some very thinly veiled skepticism, “He completely fooled us last time around and it nearly got Spence killed.”

 “That was before,” Reid made sure his voice projected confidence, “Morgan is right. We’ll get him.”

“Atta boy,” Morgan clapped him on the back.

Reid smiled and separated from them to swing by his desk. He waited a moment and watched the others enter the elevators. Once the doors closed, he grabbed a key from under his desk and unlocked his filing cabinet. His fingers flew, knowing exactly what he was looking for. A thin envelope brushed against his fingertips. He pulled it out and stuffed it into his bag. After re-locking the cabinet and returning the key to its hiding place, he glanced around one more time as he stood and made his way to the elevators. It took a minute for an empty one to open. Finally, one did, and he stepped inside. Reid blew out a long-held breath once he was inside. No one had seen the envelope and it needed to stay that way for now.

                                                                ~

It had been almost three hours since the call about the bomb had come into the department. He could not understand for the life of him why the hell he was sitting in Gil’s office and not out at the crime scene. Malcolm felt a tingle in his right hand. He looked down and sure enough his tremor was back. Not noticeable to the untrained eye but to him it might as well have been a siren. He had been doing so well for months and one case was derailing all of his progress. He looked around, worried his mother might show up at that exact instant. She had an unnerving way of doing that. 

Closing his eyes, Malcolm focused on his breathing. He needed to relax, or he just needed a case. That always did the trick and one had landed so conveniently in his backyard. A soft click behind him alerted him to Gil’s presence and he shot out of his seat.

“Gil! Finally! Why didn’t you have me meet you at the crime scene? It looks like Dr. Arthur, which makes this a serial killer case. That’s my specialty.”

“Bright!” Gil held up a hand, “Calm down. We’ll head over to the scene in a minute. I just needed to talk to you about something first.”

Gil looked him over with one of his I-am-constantly-worried-about-you looks. Malcolm focused on controlling his hand. He couldn’t afford a tremor right now. Eventually, Gil seemed satisfied and walked around behind his desk and sat down. 

After a moment he spoke, “The brass caught wind that this could be Dr. Arthur and they called in the FBI.” He paused briefly, “I had no say in the matter.”

It was a while before Malcolm replied. He clenched and unclenched his jaw multiple times. At length he spoke, “Is this a matter of whether our team can handle the case or whether I can?”

“Kid, we are still working the case. That’s better than being taken of it entirely” Gil intertwined his fingers, “All I know is what they told me. The Behavioral Analysis Unit is the one we will be working with.”

“Gil, they couldn’t be more clear if they had written it on the wall. That’s an entire team of profilers!” He glared at the window overlooking the rest of the office. If he thought he needed to control the shaking before he had been sorely mistaken. “This is just their passive aggressive way of saying, how did JT put it, that I’m wack.”

Gil leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk, “They are working with us, not against us.” 

Malcom sighed and rubbed his left temple, “Gil, all due respect, you don’t know the FBI like I do. They probably already know about my unfortunate relations, and if they don’t they’re profilers.” He glanced sideways at his mentor.

Gil didn’t reply.

Malcolm felt a massive tremor coming on which was just what he did not need right now. He stood up and thrust his hand in his pocket, walking to the door. Before he opened it he looked back at Gil, “If you could not mention Dr. Whitly I would appreciate it. I’m tired of having to defend my sanity for the hundredth time.”

Gil nodded, “Kid-”

“I’m good.” Malcolm gave him a tired smile and walked out.

                                                                 ~

David Rossi smiled as he walked into the NYPD office. Aaron was right behind him as they stood in the entrance looking for someone in charge. Rossi had spent many hours in this building back when the BAU was just getting started and there was one face in particular that he was looking for.

“David Rossi?”

He turned to meet the voice and to his immense pleasure it was exactly who he had been hoping it was, “Gil Arroyo! It has been too long! How have you been?”

Gil smiled, “I’ve been good, and better now that you’re here. I had thought you’d retired?”

“Yes, but I found that writing about solving crimes doesn’t quite do the trick.” Rossi laughed, “It’s good to see you old friend.” Then he remembered why he was there, “Oh, forgive me, this is Aaron Hotchner our unit chief and a good friend of mine.”

Aaron stepped forward and shook Gil’s hand, “It’s good to meet you, I’ve heard many stories. I was told you are the leading investigator on the case?”

Rossi’s lips twitched upward slightly, leave it to Aaron to get right down to business. Gil was leading them to a conference room and relaying what he knew about the case.

“This is where we usually do our briefings, it should be big enough, although I had thought there were more of you.” He said looking at Rossi.

“There are. Agents Prentiss and Jareau are heading down to talk with your ME and Morgan and Reid are headed to the crime scene.” Aaron answered.

“Ahh well I have Detective Powell with the ME and Detective Tarmel at the crime scene so they should be introduced here shortly.” Gil said nodding.

As he was speaking, Rossi remembered something, “Hey, Gil didn’t you tell me you had your own profiler? I thought I remembered hearing he was some sort of prodigy.”

Gil smiled, “Yes, that would be Malcolm Bright. He’s our resident genius you might say.”

“Well maybe I can convince him to join the agency then.” He laughed.

Gil smiled again but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Rossi wondered at that but now wasn’t the time to ask. It was time to get to work.

#malcom bright #dr spencer reid #crossover #criminal minds #prodigal son #malcolm whitly #spencer reid #nypd #bau #gill arroyo #dani powell #jt tarmel #martin whitly #ainsley whitly #jessica whitly #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #serial killer #bomber #grand central station #edrisa tanaka

[shypotato-translations]

QTVW Chapter 7

Future* President's Fiancee (VII)

----

When An Mu Lan woke up, she found herself in an unfamiliar environment.

She sat up, squinting around.

It is dimly lit, but by the vague light it is possible to make out the layout of this room.

This is a bedroom, and where the light is brighter, there is a window covered by heavy curtains, but a few rays of light still shine through. It is also the curtains that obscure the light that makes this room extraordinarily gloomy.

Still feeling dizzy, An Mu Lan rubbed her forehead vigorously as memories from earlier came flooding back like a tidal wave.

She narrowed her eyes and clapped her hands together, a sounding crisp clap, causing the room's sound-activated lights to come on immediately. The layout of this room was also fully presented to An Mu Lan's eyes.

The tone of this room was cold and the furniture was arranged in a simple and monotonous way, a very familiar style of home decoration, which An Mu Lan found to be very similar to the style of Ling Xihan's villa and her office.

If she guessed correctly, this should be Ling Xihan's bedroom, and it was Ling Xihan she had vaguely seen when she was unconscious earlier.

An Mu Lan's eyes flickered and there was a hint of joy in her heart, so to speak, she was now within Ling Xihan's sphere of influence, so that card there, she was finally making initial progress in this matter of raiding the villain.

An Mu Lan smiled and felt another throbbing pain in her forehead, she frowned and stroked the spot on her brow, remembering the Li family's birthday party earlier.

At the time she planned and arranged everything, then passed out under the influence of drugs and wondered how subsequent events had developed after all this time.

She clicked on the invisible electronic terminal on her wrist, a blue screen popped up and a large list of web information appeared, An Mu Lan clicked on the search field and said to the screen,

"I need to know what happened after Miss Li's birthday party."

Within three seconds, a dozen blue screens were scattered in front of An Mu Lan's eyes, who looked over them one by one.

The big headline above, in dark font, reads,

"Is the broken marriage of Zhang and Li a case of someone doing evil, or a joke of fate,"

This is the title of the literary version; another writes,

"The Zhang family's youngest prefers Nanfeng and plays group P on the second day of engagement,"

This is the bold version; there are many more titles that broadly depict this event.

An Mu Lan's mouth opened wide in surprise when she saw the news that the Zhang family's youngest was good for Nan Feng, which was not mentioned at all in the novel's plot, ah.

What's going on? Is this also an auto-completion of the virtual space-time rules?

Puzzled by the thought, An Mu Lan pulled the screen of this page in front of her eyes, then line by line, read it carefully, and after about ten minutes of reading it, An Mu Lan snorted a laugh.

The news story says that after the announcement of the marriage between Zhang and Li, the banquet continued and many of the guests did not leave immediately. This is because such an occasion is where information is passed between the families, and where deals are most likely to be negotiated in the business world.

At around three in the morning that night, Li Jiarou suddenly had to find the young master of the Zhang family in a hurry because of some matters.

The Li family had quite a few bodyguards who launched a search at that time, and there was quite a lot of commotion, so all the guests present knew about it and started to pay attention to it, and some of them even took the initiative to find him.

The guests also noticed that something was wrong when Li Jiarou's face started to turn pale and lifeless, her body was shaking and she looked miserable.

And at that moment, the young master's sister, Zhang Yao, suddenly said,

"Is there a search within the Li family residence? Perhaps brother is there?"

When the crowd thought about it, it made sense, so they recruited the bodyguard to ask again, who said with certainty,

"I've searched all over the Li family residence, but I just can't find him. But ......"

As the bodyguard said this, his face went green and red for a while as he said,

"In the Li family residence, the first floor guest lounge which was locked, has not been searched because the key could not be found."

Zhang Yao immediately smiled and offered to go to that lounge to have a look, so the crowd all followed. Ten metres closer to that room, the extremely loud sound of water stains and the moans and groans of lust could be heard inside.

Zhang Yao took the initiative to walk up and pick up the key to open the door, only to see seven or eight tall, fit men toying with a fair, tall young man, a group P scene that was so unbearable to watch that many people instantly blushed until a female voice screamed shrilly, saying,

"It's the young master of the Zhang family!"

This roar immediately drew everyone's attention to the fact that the man being pressed in the very centre was none other than the missing young master of the Zhang family, who was now, in full view of everyone, gathered around to watch a thrilling spring, palace scene.

The news reported that Li Jiarou burst into tears and the patriarch of the Li family threw the "rubbish" out with a grimace, along with an unconscious half-*** on the sofa.

As things had come to this point, the Li family naturally had to withdraw from the marriage, and so this marriage between Zhang and Li came to an end in such a joking manner.

Although the Zhang family is a triad family and is very powerful in this future world, the Li family's power should not be underestimated as well, not to mention the fact that the Li family is also a political family and there is still some truth to the proverb that the people do not fight against the officials. So the Zhang family took it upon themselves to apologise and withdraw from the marriage after the first hour of this incident, and promised to take good care of the Zhang young master.

After reading the news, An Mu Lan's whole body went Spartan. Although she played a role in pushing this matter, she did not expect the subsequent development of this matter to turn out this way, which was too unexpected.

However, all in all, the person who profited from this matter was herself, so she smiled back and continued to browse up the news, and just then, the door of the room opened and a tall woman in a slim suit looked at her with an expressionless face and a dark gaze.

The smile on An Mu Lan's lips stiffened, and she immediately straightened her spine and said joyfully,

"Xihan, you're back."

Ling Xihan walked into the room, her steps slow and with a bit of carelessness, she walked up to An Mu Lan's side, leaned over and touched her forehead and asked,

"How do you feel now, is the headache better?"

An Mu Lan's wariness immediately rose in her heart, she felt that Ling Xihan was giving off a very wrong feeling at the moment, she tilted her head and looked at Ling Xihan's chin, smiled weakly at her and said,

"Much better already, thanks."

Ling Xihan curled her lips, her narrow eyes glancing at the translucent screens popping up in mid-air as she suddenly spoke,

"How's that? Happy with the result?"

Hearing these words, An Mu Lan's heart tightened and she was quick to smile and say,

"This news is really sudden ah, the young master of the Zhang family doesn't seem like this kind of person then, isn't sister Li Jiarou very pitiful?"

Ling Xihan moved closer to An Mu Lan and leaned in slightly to look at her, a deep and unpredictable look in her eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed, her right hand stroking An Mu Lan's still somewhat messy long hair before wrapping her whole body tightly in her arms.

An Mu Lan felt her closeness, but she didn't feel happy at all, instead she was in cold sweat, because Ling Xihan's right hand was on her heart, and her palm was in the shape of a claw, as if she was playing with the softness of her chest, but then the force was heavy and light, which made An Mu Lan's heart alarmed.

An Mu Lan shivered involuntarily, she cautiously turned her head to look at her, and saw that she was very different from her usual cold and detached appearance, at this time, Ling Xihan looked at her with dark and deep eyes, with a clear understanding and realization, which made An Mu Lan feel like she was covered in □□□□□, standing in the eyes of Ling Xihan, allowing all her secrets to go unnoticed.

An Mu Lan smiled hard and asked with a tilted head,

"What's wrong with you today? Did something bad happen at work?"

Ling Xihan looked at the blue screen in front of her, pressing her lips close to An Mu Lan's ear and asking into her cochlea,

"Are you concerned about what happened yesterday?"

An Mu Lan immediately shook her head and said,

"Not really ...... concerned, I ...... I just ...... wanted to see what news…..."

Her voice weakened and her words stumbled, for the way Ling Xihan looked at her made her whole body shudder.

Ling Xihan just looked at her, with a gaze that saw through everything, and she suddenly raised her hand to caress An Mu Lan's cheek, from her still baby-fat cheek, to her soft chin.

Then she lifted her chin and looked deeply into An Mu Lan's eyes, not missing a single detail in her eyes, and she said in an unhurried tone,

"You arranged it very well the other day, the marriage between Zhang and Li was something I didn't want to see, and I'm really, really happy that you did that for the sake of it."

With that, she clicked on a blue screen and looked at the news item "The collapse of the Zhang-Li coalition" and said,

"The Li family abandoned the Zhang family in favour of another partner, and as a helper in pushing the issue, the Li family naturally chose me as a subordinate, which would allow me to step into the political world more quickly;

And the Zhang family has so disgraced the Li family and dared to lay hands on the daughter of the Li family patriarch, the Li family will naturally not let the Zhang family go, and then down the road, the Zhang family's power in the underworld will naturally fall into my hands, and I, in turn, will become the new boss;

The Li and Zhang families are equally powerful, and the young master of the Zhang family has been ruined after this night, so the two families are battling each other, and the one who will benefit the most in the end is, of course, me;

The most important thing is that the young master of the Zhang family knows part of the truth of the matter, he is a vengeful man, think about it, that maid you bothered to deal with, and Zhang Yao who made you afraid and uneasy, are the targets of his revenge. One less morbid suitor for me, and you can continue to be my good fiancée in peace.”

Ling Xihan finished these words in a flat, unemotional tone, then licked the cold sweat off An Mu Lan's cheeks and said to her,

"What's wrong? Making so much sweat?"

#shypotato #yuri #transmigration #world hopping #QTVW7

[teriwrites]

The Blue Line

The morning on the Blue Line heading into downtown started as any other might. People piled onto the subway with tired eyes on their way to work and school. Those who couldn’t find seats in the crowded cars stood in any available space. The sound of incoming and outgoing trains filled the stations with an echoing howl.

Two men that had managed to find open seats were sat across from each other, each engrossed in different copies of the same newspaper. The cover displayed yet another image of the city’s current in-residence superhero, SuperDude. His defeat and capture of the elusive supervillain The Ghost had captivated the media. An article inside displayed the woman, Clara Morgenthal, glaring at the camera in her mug shots.

In response to the article, the older of the two gentlemen - old enough to draw concerned glances from nearby passengers with every bump along the tracks - broke the silence of the morning commute. “Bah! ‘The Golden Age of Superheroes’ fiddlesticks!”

The other man, who had in fact been reading the same article, brought his newspaper low enough to stare over at the ranting elder. He wasn’t far off being considered elderly himself, but he clung to his youth with lively eyes and hair that had yet to fully grey.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, and lowered the newspaper into his lap. “These kids running around today have no respect for the old decorum. The true golden age of superheroes ended decades ago.”

The first man rolled up his paper and slapped his knee with it. “See now, this young man understands! Back then, superheroes were professionals! They made no fuss about their victories, and identity meant something to them. Seeing them on the streets, or flying overhead - it filled people with awe. Now, all superheroes crave attention over justice. The casual demeanors with the public are damaging to the role of protector. There should be distance!”

Up until this point, the rest of the train had been purposely ignoring the old man like they would any stranger who disturbed the quiet. But just then, a fed up young woman rolled her eyes and swiveled around to face him.

“Superheroes back then were boring!” she argued. “They were all stuffy and arrogant. Nowadays, they’re helpful in more ways than just taking down villains.”

“Considering you weren’t alive to witness any of this, I’d suggest you keep out of it,” the younger of the men said coldly.

The young woman turned away with another roll of her eyes, and the subway - which had, for a moment, been caught up in watching the scene play out - fell back to silently hoping the elders’ stop was coming up soon.

“It’s not even a secret anymore!” the younger man exclaimed. “Everyone in the city knows that SuperDude is that young, rich man with houses in three different countries! He doesn’t even hide or try to deny it! Anyone with enough money can be a superhero nowadays.”

Their newspapers abandoned, the men spoke in raised tones, seemingly in agreement, for several minutes. At the next stop, the young woman left quickly, apparently grateful to leave the old men behind. Those still on the train, along with those who had just boarded, repressed sighs and rolled eyes at their dramatics. Sooner or later, the other passengers hoped, they’d run out of material to rant about. 

On the contrary, they reached a point of contention. The older of the men clapped his hand on his knee. “Now, take The Grey Sentinel! He was a fine superhero! Relentless, day and night, to protect this city! Before he came around, it was crawling with crime and villainy. He really took the burden off all who came after him!”

The younger of the two hesitated in his response. “Well, now, The Grey Sentinel did good work, but let’s not let him take all of the credit for the undoing of evil here! Don’t forget about how Peacebringer took down the ring of The Sapphire Skull! He was a powerful hero himself.”

The older man shrugged. “Sure, sure. Peacebringer got his moment in the spotlight. But The Grey Sentinel inspired hope in every citizen! Peacebringer couldn’t always do what needed to be done.”

“Let’s not pretend that The Grey Sentinel was without flaws, now,” the younger man said defensively, face flushing slightly red. “After the fiasco of endangering the mayor’s life - ”

“ - Fiasco?” the older man demanded. “Perhaps if the mayor hadn’t been rescued, it could be called a fiasco.”

“I hardly consider it a rescue if the one doing the saving was the one who created the situation in the first place.” The younger man’s voice was cold.

“Even so,” the older man snapped, “to consider Peacebringer our finest hero! Why, I’d be embarrassed if that were the case! Peacebringer was little more than a child in a costume, his head filled with nonsense ideals that were completely unrealistic.”

“Far better to strive for too much than too little!” the younger retorted.

The heated argument continued for another couple of stops. And though they did their best to ignore the fight, it soon became apparent to all on the Blue Line except the men themselves that they were sharing a ride with two proud and retired superheroes trying to protect their reputations.

‘Various Vignettes’ Tag List:

@booksnotbookies

Feel free to ask to be added/removed from the tag list!

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #short story #original fiction #teriwrites #super nonsense #and we're off! #various vignettes #will i ever get over the fact that i named the unseen superhero 'SuperDude' because i was fed up with trying to create an original name? #probably not #it still makes me laugh

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 20: The Revelations

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The danger is far from over. Tired of laying low Nadya and the others go on the offensive. Nadya, Adrian, and Kamilah go to the Musea Sanguis to confront the Trinity about the trial.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Adrian wants to be the one to take the risk but Kamilah forbids it. And when he goes to do it behind her back anyway she gets to it first.

“I wish you would just trust me sometimes, Kamilah. I know which members of my Clan will keep my secret.”

“It was a greater risk on your part. It’s done — leave it at that.”

The old phone vibrates in her hand. She glances at the first and only message it will ever receive before making quick work of snapping the SIM and tossing the battery and mobile in two different ponds.

“There’s a shred of luck in our favor,” she starts a brisk pace down the park path — doesn’t wait for Adrian and Nadya to catch up, “as they’re still in town.”

“Good — we can grab a taxi to their hotel. I don’t think we have to worry about one driver.”

“They aren’t at their hotel, Adrian. They’re at the Musea.”

Adrian mutters something under his breath Nadya can’t quite catch. But from context whatever it is it’s not a good thing. “So much for luck.”

“I’m inclined to agree. Despite his position in my Clan I’ve never found Jameson to be the most loyal.”

“He’s a good man, Kamilah. Maybe we can convince him that we’re only seeking justice.”

“I… I’m unsure of how he’ll respond.”

“Any chance we won’t run into him?”

“About as much chance as we would in the sunlight.”

The Musea Sanguis is a historian’s heaven and hell. Filled to the brim with artifacts and accounts from every period and civilization collected in one place not only for their study but also for their safekeeping. But unlike every other collection that would boast the same claims the one at the Musea is special in that it holds the mystical ‘truth’ everyone searches for.

Werewolf packs roaming the New World before Columbus ever stepped on her soil. Witches sealing deals with Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Vampire soldiers in every war and on every side. The Musea Sanguis told the tales forgotten and erased in the name of preserving the shadows and their secrets.

A necessary evil.

“So why would the Trinity come here now?”

Kamilah doesn’t answer; fixates on finding something hidden — a panel made to look like the white outer brickwork that slides aside to reveal a keypad.

Adrian shrugs. “Probably nostalgia; since the Ball brought them out of hiding. They’ve contributed to the Musea for centuries.”

“Wait — that doesn’t make sense.”

“The Musea is wherever the collection goes. New York is just its most recent home.”

Musea or not — Nadya had no idea she’d be able to cross ‘Break into a Secret Museum Within the Met’ off her bucket list. She’d have to add it first.

Kamilah punches in the final digit in a sequence and the maintenance door unlocks with a thunk of metal. The part of Nadya that was forced to endure the Heist of Monaco miniseries with Lily for thirteen hours straight knows this is too easy. Waits for something to jump out of the blackness when Kamilah opens the door and ushers them inside.

Or maybe life just isn’t a television minidrama.

The door closes behind them and darkness swallows them whole.

It’s beautiful, magnificent — ancient too but there are so many words she could use and Nadya quickly gives up trying to find them all because she’d need to go to another part of the gallery for a dictionary.

The temptation to stop and bask in the wonder of strange objects in glass cases is hard to ignore. Then she sees Adrian five steps ahead and rushes to catch up to his and Kamilah’s long strides.

There’ll be time to look at everything later. When everyone is safe.

“I can feel them,” Kamilah hisses; jerks her head towards an archway at the end of a turn, “quickly.”

The arch is rough and worn sandstone — as much an exhibit as anything under a podium or on a shelf. The exhibit’s wallpaper peels away from it; recoils from history it knows it ought not touch. If once there were engravings in the carved sides they’ve since faded with time.

Nadya lets herself indulge — brushes her fingertips along the porous surface as they pass.

“Peculiar, in fact, that as I stand before you and confess my intentions to rid myself of the pest Hydarnes, that a more loyal soldier would attempt to run me through for my wicked tongue. Yet there you stand; immobile.”

“Not immobile — Immortal. I know my place.”

“Ah, but that is the great lie. So called ‘Immortals’ walking among men… yet a blade would fell you as easily as it would a commoner.”

“Then you underestimate me, Augustine.”

“Perhaps I do, Valdemaras… Perhaps I do…”

“Nadya?”

She’s in two places at once. There’s the world in front of her; the stone pressing into her nails and feet rooted to the floor and Adrian and Kamilah turned back towards her with matching looks of confusion and worry.

Then there’s the archway; cut in sharp definition and painted vibrant to match the late King Cyrus’ famed conquests and with a familiar face glaring at her from across the room that both is and isn’t there.

She blinks rapidly — takes the choice away from her mind in where it wants to reside and forces it to focus on the here and now. To Adrian who is stopped before he can advance on her.

He looks down to Kamilah’s hand — confused.

“Let it be.” She doesn’t give him the chance to speak. But the look she gives Nadya is a knowing one. And isn’t that a big relief.

Kamilah releases him, gestures ahead. “They’re in the atrium beyond. Scout to see if Jameson is near. We won’t have long.”

Even when Nadya puts on her best ‘I’m not having strange visions I can’t explain and everything is fine’ face he doesn’t buy it.

“Are you…?”

“I’m okay. I promise.” Squeezing his hand. “Go.”

When he’s three bookshelves away Nadya goes to speak — finds herself silenced by Kamilah’s finger over her lips. They watch Adrian pass three more shelves and round a corner.

“What did you see?”

But it’s already fading — another in a long list of forgotten dreams. “It’s hazy…”

“Try Nadya, please.” And she doesn’t like the insistence in Kamilah’s voice only because it’s heartbreaking and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. “Breathe deep and try.”

She breathes. Breathes again, deep this time. Feels the gritty sand from the arch under her nails.

“It was… it was Valdas — or… his other name.”

“Valdemaras?”

Nadya nods. “Mm. Something about… I think I was him, again. I didn’t see him. Me. My face.”

But putting it into words is like painting without paint; or a brush or a canvas. She can mimic the motions and mouth words soundlessly but nothing is right.

“Come on. Adrian needs us.” She knows Kamilah and knows Kamilah won’t let it go. So she pushes the issue aside by evading the hand that moves her way and practically sprints to join Adrian around the corner. Leaves Kamilah behind only because looking back at her face is too much pain for her to focus on just then.

She comes to an abrupt stop when she turns and collides straight into Adrian’s back.

“Ow!” He doesn’t budge. More throbbing pain for her — hooray.

When the ringing in her ears stops Nadya catches a honey-sweet voice in laughter. It echoes off the domed ceiling and travels around the room like a malevolent breeze.

“There she is. Where Adrian Raines goes one can be sure his human toy follows close behind. But she isn’t all there is, is she? No… I can feel a familiar one close. Kamilah — surely you aren’t so naive as to try hiding. You’re better than that… or maybe you aren’t.”

But Kamilah isn’t hiding. She comes up right behind Nadya and coaxes Adrian forward with a hand at his back.

Isseya’s laughter continues from where she lounges on an old velveteen chaise; one of many such places to sit scattered around the vast and sparsely-filled room.

In fact as Nadya looks around there’s nothing to take up the decorative marble floor at all. The attraction lies instead in a dozen paintings hung on the walls. Each given a wide berth from the other.

Even with her glasses she can’t see the details of some at the far end of the gallery — but she doesn’t have to see them. She can hear them just fine.

Hear their voices, whispers, screams and cries of lust and loss rise and fall in tides. Hear to her left the clatter of steel and whinnying cry of warhorses as their hoofs pound a skull to dust. Hear to her right the rustle of thick curtained veils and the damp squelching of a dagger in the back.

Just as Kamilah comes beside her Nadya’s legs give way — stopped from collapsing to the ground only by the grace of Kamilah’s supernatural speed.

She claps her hands over her ears and opens her mouth in a silent scream. Feels tears sting her eyes and Adrian’s hands join in holding her up.

Their mouths are moving; her protectors trying in vain to find the source of her agony. She can’t hear a word over them.

“It seems you were right again, my love.”

Like someone’s found the dial in her mind the voices and their noises dim until they’re dull and in the background; a movie on in another room.

With bleary tear-filled vision Nadya looks up, up — focuses on the figure with his back turned to them. His attention unable to be ripped away from the painting as tall as he and a head more.

“How much did we bet?” asks Valdas in a calm echo. He turns and begins a leisurely stroll towards Isseya’s seat.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Shame — but I knew I couldn’t be wrong. I’ll be benevolent this time; you can pick my prizes when we return home.”

It takes everything inside her, which isn’t much left at this point, but Nadya musters up enough of her own voice to speak.

“Wh—What’s… hap-peni—ing… to m-mme…?”

The god-like vampire gives them a fanged grin. Isn’t fazed by anything so weak and unimportant as the snarls Kamilah and Adrian throw his way.

“Something wonderful.”

There’s a change in Adrian — she feels it first, is too slow to react — watches him rush the Trinity in a blur. “Whatever you’re doing to her, st—”

Valdas throws Adrian across the room effortlessly; waves his hand as if swatting a fly.

The younger vampire’s body collides into a stone pillar with a crunch. He falls to the ground limp but conscious. Struggles to stand.

“Adrian stop.” A shudder overtakes her as the voices crescendo again but Kamilah’s ready this time; holds her tight. “We did not come here to fight you, Domine. This is needless torture!”

Isseya snarls. “Is that sympathy, Kamilah? From you of all vampires? It’s disgusting.”

“She is an innocent.”

“She is beloved by that cur,” Isseya throws a gesture as Adrian struggles to stand, “and nothing he does is innocent.”

Her words fall flat as her lover rests his hand on her shoulder. “Isseya — calm yourself. Look in her eyes. She doesn’t know what she holds in her grasp.”

In silence something dawns on the wicked woman’s face — it falls into pity and scorn. “That’s her own fault.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Enough. It’s too much. Make it stop! “Make it-t stop, Kamilah, please…”

“Valdas!”

Whether he’s hesitating because he relishes her pain or because the idea of doing anything for Kamilah disgusts him — it doesn’t matter. Every passing second the voices and sounds clash and collide together and scalding pain stings at her temples.

Then a blink. That’s all it takes for the ancient vampire to cross the room and cup her cheeks in his large palms. She remembers now; recognizes the same face from the backs of her eyelids through the archway. The same features unchanged but now hardened by eternity.

“No!” Adrian cries. Nearly collapses in his haste to separate them but Isseya yanks him back by the throat with an almost feral grin. “Let go of — get away from her! Kamilah! Kamilah do something!”

She does. Looks into Valdas’ red eyes and sees something there Nadya can’t understand.

She doesn’t pull Nadya away from his grasp. Lets it be.

“Kamilah!”

“Trust me, Adrian, please!” And she asks the same thing of Nadya in silence.

Trust me. Please, trust me.

She does. Even when it feels like the noises around her are splitting her skull into fragments she does. When Valdas places two fingers on each temple she does.

There’s a vaguely familiar tugging in her gut — then nothing at all. No noise, no pain, no air on her face or sweat on her brow. There is blackness and a void and the feeling of blood pounding in her temples and roots growing out from the tips of her fingers and toes…

… then it’s gone.

Valdas stays close — she can smell the spice of his clothes. And something deeper than that… two thousand sheer veils hovering between them that she can brush away with a mere thought.

She can see the hall with her eyes closed; feel Kamilah and the leaden weight of her years and Adrian’s, too, the same but different in a way that can’t be defined. Nadya feels all the organs in her body yearning towards a brightness she can only call ‘devotion’ at the other end of the room.

So much blood, so bright…

But around her—around them—the world is empty. Dark and dim; filled with nothing but feathers that arrive on one wind and vanish on the next. The fragility of human life crumbling to a fine powder underneath their touch.

The moon was once bright but no longer holds the same appeal. In a world without cities or smog or the fake light of mankind there was once a forest bathed in the light of the endless stars. And in that forest there was a lover.

But that lover is gone now.

Right?

Nadya inhales and begins to plummet back down — flew up to the moon but wasn’t close enough to touch. Eternity rushes back within her, roots withered and dried and rotting away from her stems. The forest too gone in a single second.

When she opens her eyes the noises are silent. The hall is just a hall — startlingly empty for the crowd and clutter of the shelves they passed.

A rough thumb strokes her cheekbone and brings her back to herself. Causes Nadya to look up into Valdas’ golden eyes. She struggles to catch her breath.

Kamilah strokes her hair — tries and fails to keep the worry from her voice.

“Nadya — are you all right?”

She replies with a nod. Can’t — or maybe just doesn’t want to — tear her eyes away from the man before her.

“You’re so alone…” So many voices have tried to make a home in her head that Nadya doesn’t recognize her own right away. “You cling to what’s left but beyond her there’s… there’s nothing.”

Nadya reaches up and mirrors Valdas’ touch with gentle hands. “You’d rather wither as a corpse than live as a man. They’re the same thing to you; both empty and tired.”

“To know completion only to lose it was to be ripped in two.” Valdas says.

“But… having half of yourself must be better than nothing at all.”

“Such a way of thinking is mortal and beyond me. I wish it weren’t.”

“Eternity doesn’t settle for anything less.”

Her own words surprise her. That’s not Nadya’s way of thinking — it’s so pessimistic. But then again it’s not really her way of thinking now is it?

Valdas confirms the thought with an appraising look.

“Indeed…” His touch slides down her face — she’s seen what those hands can do; their violence. Yet he cradles her gently. “What I would not give for even a moment of your power.”

Power. It breaks the spell they’re under. Makes Nadya push herself away and back into Kamilah’s waiting protection.

She doesn’t have any power.

Hard eyes glance to where Adrian struggles desperately against Isseya’s impossible hold. The look she gives Valdas is pleading. Earnest.

The man waves his hand — silent permission given — and Adrian is at her side.

“What—did he—Nadya—I—”

She lets him know she’s okay with a touch. But that’s not what they came here to do. That’s not what they’re risking everything for. She’s risking everything for him and not the other way around.

“Why did you lie to the Council?” There’s no room for doubt; no room to oppose her. She knows — he knows that she knows.

She just wish she knew how she knew. And the confusion of it makes her skull want to crack open like an egg.

When Valdas doesn’t answer she tries his lover; “Why did you lie and say you weren’t with Adrian? You knew it would condemn him to death. What do you have against him?”

“Turn your accusatory eye elsewhere, little girl,” Isseya snarls, “perhaps to those you so vehemently protect. The best liars hide in plain sight.”

Adrian tenses. “How did I lie? Whatever Vega’s told you about the Ferals —”

“You think we care about a meager infestation?” Valdas barks a laugh; returns to Isseya’s side with a protective arm around her waist. “We’ve seen the likes of worse and weathered them still.”

“So this isn’t about the Council?”

“We couldn’t care less about you, them, or the problems you make for yourselves.”

“We’ve seen it all before.” agrees Isseya.

But Adrian’s struggling — refuses to let it go. “What you heard at the trial was lies; all of it. Vega fabricated it to point the finger at me. I… I don’t know why. I wish I knew why. But if you tell me why he made you lie then maybe I can figure it out.”

Adrian’s focus is on Valdas like he’s the one who makes all the decisions. But Nadya knows better — watches behind him as a peculiar expression melts onto the priestess’ features. She knows that look.

If it wasn’t for Adrian’s healing blood she’d probably still have bruises from that look.

“Wait —” it dawns on her slowly, “— were you there to testify for or against Adrian in the first place?”

Smart girl, says the glint in Valdas’ eyes.

“We were called to speak on behalf of the accused — on Adrian’s behalf. And when certain mysteries came to light we decided it was best to extend the same courtesy to him that was given to us.”

Adrian struggles to make sense of it. “What does that even mean? When did I lie to you? What—what courtesy?”

But it’s like the more questions he asks the more their silent rage builds. There’s a rope being pulled between them and every confused outcry Adrian gives is another slash of the knife. She doesn’t want to see what will happen when it finally snaps.

If she wasn’t still consumed with the raw feeling Valdas left inside of her — some parting gift, jerk — Nadya knows she’d be able to focus. But her insides are sandpaper and every breath, movement, thought makes them grate together.

Her only solace is that Nadya knows what that feeling is like. Felt it on her own level deep inside when she saw Lily losing her grip on the edge of her life. And again when she turned back against her better judgment to watch her friends leap into a Feral mob to keep her safe.

And again when Adrian was sentenced to death.

Eternity doesn’t settle.

The burning in her body is grief without an outlet.

How dare he. Innocent faces hide deceitful minds. How dare he. Our lifetimes are haunted by ghosts we dare not give names to — yet this is more. He is more. But dare we hope again after all this time?

Is it better to hope for a spec of eternity than to grieve for the entirety of it?

“I remember him fondly, Domine, though I would not dare to say my memory is worth more than yours. Strange, though, that Adrian would know nothing of you, your infamy, or your grief.

“And to weigh the bulk of his innocence on a creature that could very well be Cynbel’s reflection… We all saw it — even Kamilah felt haunted by his presence. You did the right thing Valdemaras. You did the right thing to he who would rather see you and your love continue to mourn than help you hope.”

Okay, so, whatever he did to her Nadya very much wants taken back — only because she’s not asleep and not hallucinating and both of those would be preferable to standing where she feels safest in the world yet somehow can’t escape the villainous drawl of Adam Vega.

Even if it answers a lot of unasked questions.

God, please let her be right about this.

“It wasn’t Adrian who lied to you. It was Vega.”

Adrian frowns. “Nadya, what are you talking about?”

“Just what I was going to ask…” growls Valdas in warning. She can feel the rumble of his voice deep in her own breast.

So Nadya turns her words — and attention — to Isseya. The uncontrollable hurricane. The coin of fate.

“Isseya, please. Think about it. You were so angry that night, right? I made you think about him — the one you lost — and you wanted to —”

“I wanted to rip you limb from limb and feed your organs in little pieces to the pond fish.”

Artful. And shudder-worthy. “E-Exactly. So I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to sit in that trial and see Cadence. He looked just like him.”

“You saw it too…?” She asks in an almost broken whisper. Digs her nails deep into the meat of her lover’s upper arm; makes blood run down in thin strands that begin to drip-drip-drip on the white floor.

Nadya nods. “I did. And if I did then you can be sure Vega did with me. And I think he realized he could use your grief against you and for himself.”

Kamilah stays silent behind her. She doesn’t need to speak — Nadya knows; finally understands what her ominous warning was meant to serve as at Cadence and Katherine’s departure.

There’s a sliver of doubt, now — something hasty and makeshift to mend the fragile rope between them.

Isseya clings to her partner. “I told you, I told you…”

“I know, my love, but —”

“But that,” Nadya interrupts — and keeps going fast before he decides to do something irrational like snap her neck for her insolence, “right there. At the Ball you guys didn’t care who heard you but all of a sudden you were lying in front of the tribunal. You’re better than that — you said so yourself, Valdas.

“You don’t care what happens; to Adrian or to the Council. So why deny it so quickly? What do you gain from lying?”

The man grits his teeth. “If there is a point you ought to reach it. Quickly.”

Her heart begins to race. “Vega talked to you after the Ball didn’t he? He asked you about the questions you asked Cadence and then brought up all those painful memories of your lover, Cynbel.”

“Vega was an old acquaintance.”

“Pretty convenient timing though, huh?”

“He knows better than such insolence. We are —”

“No one cares who you are anymore!” And as the only one in the room with a pulse she really hates how hers keeps skipping every other beat. It’s just not fair. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you guys but the world moved on even if you didn’t. Nobody cares about the Trinity when there aren’t even three of you.

“Look at the facts, Valdas, please. Vega triggered your grief and — and used your hope, Isseya — to make you think Adrian was lying to you.”

“It… makes a modicum of sense.”

Kamilah steps out from behind her. Pensive thoughts and connected dots race through her mind. “If, through some means, Vega knew the man Adrian would call as his witness — knew the resemblance he bore — then it would be easy to reaffirm your doubts once the trial went in his direction.”

“And how would a youth like Vega know we would choose to deny your Adrian’s claims?” Valdas scoffs.

“Because he has moved on with the world, and knows we will always stay true to one thing.” Isseya relinquishes her bloody grip and coaxes her lover to meet her eyes.

“The rest of the world may burn but we will remain through the ages.”

Nadya, Kamilah, and Adrian watch the couple now enveloped in each other; gentle touches to eternal skin and one kiss in the wake of thousands — maybe even millions.

Adrian tries to advance — moves aside the hand she reaches out in warning — and moves slow and purposeful. Aware of the bloodshed just beneath the surface in front of them.

His sincerity makes his voice break. “I know what it’s like to love someone — and to lose them. How it never really goes away and… and how we have all these years to keep feeling the hurt. If I had even an inkling that your partner was still alive I would have done everything in my power to help you reunite.”

“See? Adrian isn’t capable of what Vega claims. He’s, well,” Kamilah looks him up and down, “he’s too damn soft, frankly.”

Isseya is the first to pull away. Keeps herself in the safety of Valdas’ embrace while scrutinizing Adrian and his words.

“I see none of the Godmaker’s ambition in you. Adam was always prone to bold and fantastical claims but that… that was a lie and he knew it.”

The Godmaker. Nadya doesn’t want to know. One problem at a time.

And speaking of problems — time is going to become one if they don’t start hurrying. She can’t let herself drown in the strangeness of what’s happening.

So here she goes. “The fact of the matter is Vega used you both. He used your loyalty to each other and I’d even say he used the memory of your partner to get what he wanted out of you and out of the Council.

“It’s despicable, and wrong, and downright evil. But he’s a career politician so I can’t even pretend I’m surprised…” Nadya shakes her head to get her thoughts back on track. “So please help us get back at him. Help us clear Adrian’s name and figure out who the real person at fault is.”

The couple exchange looks — Nadya’s actually sweating waiting for an answer. Then Kamilah makes… a surprisingly good point.

“If mortal altruism is not enough to spur you forward, then consider the state of your reputation should Adam succeed through manipulating you.”

That makes up their minds. If Nadya’s a little disappointed in them for it she doesn’t let it show. Something’s better than nothing.

At first glance it looks like Valdas’ focus is elsewhere — perhaps in the symbolic distance. Then Nadya follows his eyes across the hall to a painting alone in the far corner. Tucked away as if to be forgotten on purpose.

A dull throbbing starts in her temples. Not the same roaring pain from before but similar. The longer she looks the stronger it gets.

She doesn’t know how she knows; she simply does. Can hear it in the back of her mind the same way she’s heard everything else this night.

“What are the chances that this scrap of canvas will survive? Especially if you insist we leave it behind?”

“Do you not wish to see what will become of it, my dear? To see if it — like us — persists the ages?”

“A grand experiment for a later date. I have a meeting with Parliament at dusk.”

“Parliament will not rot from the inside after one day, Holy One. Stay with us. I beseech you.”

“You know how to tempt me so.”

“I may have an inkling after all these years.”

“And for the years yet to come.”

That’s why they came here. Nadya’s certain. Knows that if she runs across the room she’ll see two familiar faces and the one from the painting at Marcel’s castle. The Trinity.

Another familiar face, too. It lingers in the doorway at the far end of the room; silent, stoic.

She lets herself take in the gaunt features for what feels like the first time. Notes every inch of greying flesh and black veins pulsing out of throbbing temples disfigured with bumps like horns. Stares at lips peeled back and bitten off in the frenzy of hunger; the sharp and almost pristine tip of every fanged tooth.

The yellowing illness around bulging eyes. Pupils narrowed into slits. The way they tremble and struggle to hold her transfixed in their horror and, strangely, their splendor too.

She opens her mouth to speak. Breaks the spell they were held under.

The Feral lets out an unearthly howl and rushes in for the kill.

#bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #adrian raines #playchoices #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: isseya #oc: valdas #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[poisonedviper]

Beloved Father, Stern Voice

It started much like the last time. Another noble had found a way to still oppress the commoners of Ishgard, preying especially on the poor of the Brume. Even while some tried to build new homes for the lot, others still found a way to make their lives worse. L’alor had been informed through his watchful eyes about the city, and had subsequently sent our fliers in reply.

House Hillandrene throws commoners into the streets to die! House Hillandrene steals homes from the poor and tells them to freeze to death! House Hillandrene, the biggest killer since the dragons!

Sensational statement after sensational statement, each one exaggerated a bit to draw people in to read the story. House Hillandrene hadn’t been as outright evil as the headlines detailed, but they had been buying the homes of brume citizens incapable of paying their loans off and then evicting the people out into the streets with no chance of establishing a payment plan. Some of those people had already died to the cold, and others had only been saved by the grace of certain soup kitchens that L’alor’s eyes had ushered them to.

House Hillandrene had done nothing illegal, by Ishgardian law. They had merely purchased homes made available for purchase and then chose to not continue the occupancy of those homes. All by the book. It was just immoral, which is where the Beloved Father came to task. For if the law would not protect the children of Ishgard, their Beloved Father would.

The angry crowd swelled quickly. Citizens of the brume left their homes and alcoves in anger. Newly moved residents of the firmament descended from their new abodes to stand beside their former neighbors. Even those of the city proper left to join the growing mob, all pointedly headed for the estate of House Hillandrene.

To the luck of the mob, and the danger of the house, House Hillandrene was newer to the ranks of nobility. Their estate had been converted from some of their first purchases of smaller domiciles belonging to other house servants into a grander mansion. It had been beautifully worked on to look like a proper home, but still lacked the often defended front gate or small yard of other nobles. Also no standing militia to come to their aid, just a few door guards who hesitantly held their post at the entrance to the estate.

Thankfully, for the guards, the eyes of the Beloved Father were already there, counseling others to remain back. The sins of House Hillandrene had been great, but not enough to unleash the mob on them. Not yet. Instead they rallied the mob, encouraged they shout louder, make more of a scene. Draw the leader of the house out to speak to them, draw the attention of the city guards, and summon the inquisition even. The openness of the scene was always part of the Beloved Fathers actions. Nothing in the shadows.

The door to a balcony opened above the mob and a tall woman stepped out. Her crystal sharp gaze narrowed on the crowd, but she did not look upon the people with malice or conceit. She looked at them with caution and scrutiny. She saw this for what it was, but was looking at it all to decide her next step.

Her presence did not calm the crowd, only heightened their anger and volume. Calls for her to come down and speak. Some called for her to jump. Others demanded she explain herself.

The city guards looked on cautiously. No one had done any harm yet, and they were hesitant to engage the large crowd without absolute need.

L’alor watched the lady from the crowd, standing still as he observed her face. He didn’t see any semblance of indignant rage or hatred. She wasn’t a noble mad at the commoners come to besmirch her name. She was one person watching a crowd of people and deciding what to do. It was something with more open doors.

L’alor’s hands clapped together, forming quick signs before speaking a command phrase. “Wind, send me up.”

He was up in a moment, the wind collecting beneath his feet and then thrusting him  upward, towards the balcony. He landed the next moment, dropping into a comfortable seat on the ledge in front of the startled lady of the house. He stayed still as he sat, offering a genuine smile.

“Lady Austrene,” he said calmly.

She hesitated a moment, looking him over with a squinted gaze of curiosity before her eyes returned to a normal state. “Beloved Father,” she said just as calmly.

“I commend ye on keepin’ an even visage when lookin’ upon yer fellows in t’crowd. I do no’ see any malice in yer eyes,” he offered.

“That is because there is no malice. They are just people, like you and I. Surely they have a right to voice their anger at my... Throwing people to their deaths on the streets, or however you phrased it.”

“In so many words, yes,” L’alor answered.

“Shall we talk?” She asked, gesturing back to the door she had come through.

“We shall talk here,” L’alor answered. He had had enough of closed door meetings with his targets. They rarely went well.

She hummed for a moment before nodding gently. “Very well. What would you like to talk about?”

L’alor gestured back to the mob who had quieted somewhat since his entrance to the scene, but still had murmurs from watchful eyes turned upon the duo.

“The crowd of people?” She asked, quirking a brow. “I suppose long as they don’t get violent, what does it matter?”

“Oh, their opinion matters quite a lo’,” L’alor answered. “They’re wha’ allows ye t’be a noble. T’ones who rent t’homes ye own, who keep them upkept an’ runnin’.” He pursed his lips, looking back to her. “Whose good fav’a could carry far, an’ whose ill fav’a would destroy yer finances.”

Austrene watched L’alor carefully, pursing her lips. “What if I was to push you, right now? Off the balcony.”

L’alor chuckled, smiling back. “T’mob would quickly turn violen’, I imagine. Same as if I were t’do t’same to you. But, wors’ o’ all, I would catch meself. Very acrobatic.”

“Figures,” she said with a laugh. “So, what? Even though I have broken no laws, you want me to believe that the favor of the public is more worth it than the value of my properties?”

“Exactly tha’,” he answered. “I think ye should let those previous tenants return.”

“They’d never afford the rent.”

“Free o’ charge.”

Austrene laughed, shaking her head. “You must be daft. Let people live in my homes, free of charge?”

“Exactly. Ye have more than enough wealth t’sustain those brume homes withou’ issue.”

“But why should I?”

“Morally, ‘cause s’the right thin’ t’do, and yer responsibility as t’new own’a. But, in a mo’ realistic sense tha’ ye’ll apply t’bett’a, because if ye do no’ then I will find whatev’a it is ye’ve done an’ make sure everyone learns about i’. No’ jus’ the bad landowning practices, but the also illegal things.”

Austrene watched him carefully, tapping her chin in thought. “And what will I receive in return?”

“M’no’ t’one who makes deals, Austrene. I present demands tha’ll make ye a bett’a person, an’ punishment when needed.”

“Ah, I see... What if I’ve done nothing wrong?”

“Even if ye’ve been a legally upstandin’ citizen all yer life?” L’alor asked himself, looking down at the crowd. “Ye do own a lot of homes that’re surely ou’ o’ code now, m’sure an inspect’a could be there by now, if I needed.”

Austrene pursed her lips again, watching the mob below quietly. “When I saw the mob, I had thought back to the last time I heard of this. House Alluindre. Sportive combat on the front lawn. I was worried that was what you had planned here.”

“Ye came ou’ much mo’ serene an’ kind than he did,” L’alor answered.

Austrene hummed, smiling to herself. “I see. I suppose it is also still an option.”

“If necessary, yes.”

“Then, I suppose we have a... Well, not a deal. But I accept nonetheless.”

“Very goo’ t’hear,” L’alor answered. “Ye’ll enjoy the rewards of this, m’sure.”

He rolled backwards, leaving the balcony to just Lady Austrene. His feet hit the ground with a thud and he walked back into the crowd. White robed men ushered the crowd into movement, leaving the streets almost as quickly as they had gathered into them.

It had been a bloodless showing, which disappointed some, but it had been a good showing all the same.

#story #Beloved Father

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How To Be A Queen [Part 11]

Note: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I said no cliff hangers. I’m a liar. Also wtf this surpassed 40k words. It’s 85 pages long on my word doc. How in the hell.

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Warning: Cussing. Like big boy words.

Previous

Next

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

The few days before the festival flew by. Mrs. Harper had barely finished our gowns on top of the many last-minute requests from other Hateno residents. Anju and I were enlisted at times along to help with sewing. It was hectic, but I loved it. Nothing was expected of me other than my occasional assistance. Over the duration of this time, I had rarely bumped into Link. When I did, he asked what I was up to and was off again as quick as he came. Every now and again, I’d notice him hanging off to the side with that same group of men helping with putting together decorations or stalls for the festival. Sometimes talking with Aryll, other times being pushed away by her.

A boy ran across the courtyard in hot pursuit of a rooster while two other children trailed behind in fits of light laughter. The sun had long since set and a myriad of lanterns were lit around the village. Jovial music played from a makeshift band of young and old musicians alike. Some drifted off to join other festivities while others jumped in to fill the gap. The musicians hooted and hollered louder than their own instruments at times. The music never lost its beat and had been playing boisterously since early evening. I had never heard the likes of the tunes they played, but I could tell it could get the most sober man to clap along.

Which, incidentally, was what I was doing near the edge of the crowd. Sharla Harper had just parted from me to join the dancing throngs of people after our idle witnessing of her husband playing the violin with aggressive enthusiasm. Admittedly, I had turned down a dance with her and chose to become a sort of wallflower instead.

A thin-stemmed glass was pushed into my hands and Malon came into view. Her cheeks were red from alcohol and a smile brimmed her cheeks as she spoke, “Drink! We won’t be able to get free booze like this until Spring.”

“And without the judgement to boot,” I said, trying to match her enthusiasm and stole a glance around us. It seemed like everyone and their grandmother was taking part in the festival’s pleasantries. Not that I was expecting a castle ball’s scrutiny, but this was a completely different world after all. People were laughing, singing, dancing, and I was under the impression that they truly wanted to be here with their loved ones to celebrate another successful harvest season. I was out of my realm and I was loving it.

“You look like you’re having an amazing time and you haven’t even done anything yet,” Malon said, bringing me out of my thoughts. I shrugged and touched the glass to my lips, suddenly realizing I was beaming at nothing in particular.

“Have you seen him?” Her grin was almost devious and I took a small sip of the sparkling ricewine. It smelled vaguely of roses and the color was a matching light pink. “Who are you talking about?” I asked absently, my eyes were drawn to the band before meeting hers.

“Oh, don’t play coy. You know who I mean,” Malon’s voice was lowered as if anyone was eavesdropping.

I wrapped my arms around myself, the glass held lightly in my right hand. I spun a little, feeling my gown twist around my legs. I felt light and appreciate that the only layers needed was a bodice and a white slip. I admired how my drink wasn’t far off from the color of my dress and shook my head, “He probably doesn’t want to look after me all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” The woman looked frustrated, “He’s missing out on the most beautiful woman in Hateno and it’s not a big deal?”

I laughed and rolled my head back to look at the sky, “You’re being ridiculous or are you talking about yourself? Because the latter would make sense.” The stars were glistening, not a cloud in the sky. It was like the goddesses blessed the night and were watching from above.

“I’m serious,” Her words were drawn out and she gripped her own glass tightly, “You look hot tonight.” I hid my smile behind the drink. “Thank you, love. You look gorgeous tonight too.”

There were a few men that hung around us. They stole looks at us and I felt bashful. I did feel confident in how I presented myself though. The gown Mrs. Harper had sewn together was perfect. The gown’s neckline heart shaped and was drawn tightly around my waist before flowing in an A-Line skirt. A thick lacy white ribbon was wrapped around my middle and a grey shawl was wrapped around my shoulders and tucked underneath my arms. It was very effective in keeping out the cold, but I dared not to stray far from fire pits that were littered throughout the square.

My shoulders loosened and I quickly realized I had downed the wine as I listened to Malon’s rambling. She gasped and took it from me, mumbling, “We need more drink.”

“Hm?”

“We need more drink!” She said quite a bit louder and turned. I lost her in the crowd and didn’t bother following.

Alone again, I turned my attention to the music and the dancers. They twirled and the partners parted to make lines, then moving through to find their partners again. The ladies bunched their skirts in one hand, laughing and stomping to the beat. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jumped.

I looked over my shoulder and expected Malon but found Link squeezing between a couple. His hair hung partially in his eyes from navigating through the crowd, then he looked at me completely and I felt like my world stopped. The space around us seemed quieter than before and all I wanted to do was hear what he wanted to say. The air felt suddenly so warm that I was almost wanting to take my shawl off.

He had opened his mouth speak but seemed to forget his words. Instead he looked at the band. So, I did too. Occasionally, I looked over to see if he would finally say something – anything. He wore a nice white long-sleeved shirt and he smelled like mead. It could have been anyone that smelled like that around us, but I supposed since we were standing so close it had to be him.

“Hey,” he finally said. Link wasn’t really making eye contact.

For whatever reason I started laughing. Something about the prolonged silence and the sudden greeting tickled me. I didn’t doubt it was the ricewine from before that helped fuel it. Link finally looked fully at me and a flash of confusion ran across his features. Then, he was laughing too.

“Hello Link,” I managed to say between giggles. He was just softly smiling now, not nearly as troubled as before and watched as I calmed myself down. “I’m sorry, Malon forced a drink onto me before you got here.”

“She forced you to drink?” Link asked, sounding worried. His eyes flicked to the faces behind me, as if looking for her.

“Oh no. No, no,” I put a hand up, “I was more than happy to oblige. She just put it in my hands.”

He seemed relieved and then grabbed my hand that I had somehow put on his chest. I don’t remember doing that.

“Do you want to dance?” He lightly rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb as if it was a natural thing to do. As if he’d done it before.

“I,” I had no idea what to say. “Yes,” I said, my heart beating quickly as I glanced at where the music was playing and back to him. His smile reached his eyes and I panicked, “I-I mean no.” My eyes grew wide as I realized what I had said, “I mean yes! But!”

At this point I’m sure I looked redder than the tomato pin cushion Anju’s mum uses.

“I don’t know how to dance!” I said quickly in a horrible attempt to recover. I must have looked like a bumbling idiot.

“You knew how to dance the last time,” he said plainly. “Zel, are you sure you want to? We don’t have to.”

“Yes!” I had the itch to fiddle with my hands, but he was still holding one of them. Why was I so nervous? It was Link. It was only Link. “Ballroom dancing is all I can do. Usually it’s only 1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4… but this is not ballroom dancing and I’ll look-“

“You’ll look beautiful.”

I stopped talking. Feeling that feeling in my chest bubble up again. I felt inexplicably happy. So happy, in fact, that my brain forgot to spit out words for me to say. He thinks I’m beautiful?

“And,” Link continued, shrugging his shoulders, “I’ll only dance with you. So, if you don’t want to, we’re both missing out.”

“That’s evil.”

Link nodded knowingly, “I know, but it has to be done.”

“I don’t know the steps.”

“There really aren’t any steps. Just follow what everyone else is doing,” he said, tugging on my hand. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s gotten to the part of the night where everyone’s too drunk to care.”

I raised an eyebrow, “How do you know the right things to say all the time?”

That toothy smile was back, “Trust me, it’s pure luck.”

He led us out of the audience. The music was even louder here and somehow someone snuck a drum into the group of already noisy instruments. I gathered my skirts in one hand like many of the other women and somewhere along the way either Link had let go of me or we were forced apart. Now I was sandwiched between two rather large women. I copied the swaying motions and found myself doing rather well. One of the women nearly tripped and the other started cackling. There was a weird box step and the group moved forward as someone on a fiddle played vivaciously.

I noticed we had separated into lines with lines of men and boys themselves moving between and finding their partners. Rather inelegantly a smaller boy bumped into me but held out his hands. I paused, confused, but crouched down and offered my own. His little fingers interlocked with mine and we did a small circle swaying dance. I laughed at his pink face.

“You’re a rather good dancer,” I said.

He looked at me in surprise but put on a brave face. “Thanks. Mum says so too.”

I looked up to see Link with one of the women before with an expression not too different from my dance partner’s. His eyes caught mine and I tried hiding my laughter. Link mouthed something and I shook my head, not understanding. A beat went by and partners separated and reconjoined. Link closed the gap between us and didn’t hesitate to interlock his fingers with mine.

“Hey,” he said again.

My lips twitched upward, “Hello Link.”

“I see you found someone else to dance with.”

“Oh, yes. He was so charming. He stole my heart and left just as quick. Didn’t even catch his name,” I sighed wistfully. The couples moved to form a large circle with another group making another inner circle. We happened to end up on the inside.

“Really?” He asked with a surprised voice, “I’m so honored to know that the next king of Hyrule hailes from Hateno.”

I studied his face. The shape of his eyes, the small scar on his cheek, the way his smile started out lopsided before evening out on his cheeks. I nodded slowly. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

He spun me around and I pursed my lips, “I don’t want a king, though.”

“No? What do you want then?”

I shrugged with a smile, “I don’t know. Kings are awfully boring. Instead, I want someone who can make me laugh and smile.” I thought for a moment, then nodded, “Yes, that sounds about right.”

He hummed, “So, a court jester.”

“Exactly. A dreamy court jester.”

Link laughed at my expression and we were pulled apart again. The cold air replaced where his warm hands were, and the same sequence of dancing went on. After what seemed like forever, I had snuck from the dance and into the chattering audience once more. I hadn’t seen Link in quite some time, so I assumed he couldn’t find me on time to make a convenient exit together. It hadn’t bothered me and I found Anju and Aryll by a food stall.

Aryll noticed me first and pointed me out to Anju with her meat kabob, “Lookie here!”

Anju lit up when she saw me, making me smile back. “Do you want some?” I agreed and she gave me her half of the stick. “I’m full anyway.”

I thanked her and hung on the side, vaguely listening to their conversations as I watched people pass.

“Does he dance good,” Aryll said with a mouth full of steak.

I nodded bashfully, not bothering to ask how she knew. “He can waltz well too,” I said, pulling a roasted carrot off and popping it into my mouth.

Aryll blanked, “Pardon?”

Anju giggled, “Are you serious?”

“Mmhm,” I swallowed, “During the winter solstice ball.”

Aryll started choking and Anju laughed loudly, trying to smack her friend’s back in a lame attempt to help. “Oh-Oh my. Get him. I want to hear more. A first-hand account by the man himself,” Anju waved me off, keeling over at Aryll’s expression.

I walked around aimlessly for a moment and found a stray waste bin for the now empty stick. In all honesty, I had no idea where to find him. He had just narrowly found me before but looking at all the people it felt like searching for a needle in a haystack. There was no way everyone was from this little town and from what I overheard I was mostly right. Many people came from more rural outskirts.

My eye caught someone walking out of the square. It looked like Mac, one of the first people we had seen upon coming to Hateno and he seemed close to Link. So, I made up my mind to follow him.

“I’m sorry,” a man cut into my path and I stopped. “Do I know you?”

I squinted in the faint light of a lamp. He was a middle-aged gentleman with graying hair, but I didn’t recognize him. His smile was sweet and gentle, as if he already knew the answer. I shook my head, “No, sir. I don’t recall. I hope you find the person you’re looking for.”

His smile widened, “My deepest apologies.”

I looked at him questionably and he moved slightly to the side, giving me allowance to move past. I felt scrutinized and looked at my feet as I left. Strange. Nevertheless, I saw Mac just barely disappear around a corner and I followed. It was quieter here other than the soft chatter of standoffish groups. Some merchants hung around; others began packing up. I suppose it was that time of night. I hugged my shawl closer and felt unsure.

Mac didn’t move fast and he held two pints of mead - one for each hand. He turned another corner and Toma shouted his name.

“-you took so long I’m basically sobered up.”

“You are nowhere near sober. You can barely walk,” Mac grumbled and I heard a clanking of glass. I stopped just before rounding the corner with him. It felt weird to barge in, I didn’t know them like that. What was I going to say? That I stalked Mac to find them?

As I was thinking about excuses I heard Link say something mildly insulting to Toma and I thought Kafei’s laughter was a warning for a heart attack. He wheezed so bad he started coughing. “You sound like an old man,” Toma quipped, “You got asthma too.”

“Oof. That hurts, mate,” Kafei coughed again to clear his throat, “At least the ladies think this old man is sexy.”

“You have exactly one lady,” Link chimed in, laughing at his own joke.

“Um, one more than all of you!” He shouted, “Besides I have a multitude of women in several other regions. A platoon. You remember when I went to Gerudo Town?”

“Yeah. When you were ten.”

“I was an early bloomer.”

“Does Anju know that?” Mac’s voice disappeared into the pint.

“This conversation stays here and if anyone else knows you’re all dead,” Kafei shouted, again. Even if they didn’t tell, Anju was bound to overhear all the way in the square.

“I’d pay money to see you fight Link,” Toma snickered, “500 rupees right now.”

“Link is a fucking knight.”

Link snorted, “I’ll let you beat me if you split it.”

“With how competitive you are? I don’t want to die young.”

“You’re already old.”

“I’m only two years older than you, fucker.”

There was a wide array of bickering between Toma and Kafei. I rehearsed my excuse in my head, ‘Oh, no. I’m lost! Wait, friends? Thank heavens I found you all. I was just so lost. Aryll wanted to talk to you, Link.’ Okay, no, that won’t work. That sounds worse than stalking one of them.

“Besides Link already has a girl,” Kafei said, “We’re obsolete, boys.”

“Shut up,” I could barely hear Link. I swallowed thickly, thinking about just walking away, but I’m sure they would hear a pair of heels on the stone. Perhaps I can take them off.

“Who? Blondie?” Toma asked.

“That one girl,” Kafei asked. There was a bout of silence. “Selma.”

“What? That’s not even close to her name,” Link chuckled. Toma began laughing unnecessarily loud.

“Zelda!” Toma shouted, “Her name is Zelda. I remember. She’s cute. I almost bedded her.” His words started slurring. Someone probably hit him because there was a light “Ow” that followed.

“She’s not mine, believe me,” Link said.

“What’s the color of her eyes?”

“Green,” he didn’t even miss a beat.

“You’re basically married,” Kafei clapped his hands together. “Congratulations.” I stared at my shoes and felt my face flush. I wasn’t supposed to be here. My hands felt sweaty. I should slip away.

Link didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Trust me, that will never happen.”

Kafei made a noise, “Why not? Why else would you bring someone like that here?”

“Her dad-“

“Yeah, I get it. Her dad paid you. But you could have taken her anywhere. Rito Village and see the aurora borealis, the tops of Mount Lanayru, the warmth of the Gerudo. Anywhere in Hyrule. But you took her here. I’m assuming this girl comes from money and she could have gotten a whole party of people to accompany her just like how every rich person does. But it’s just you. So, what’s the catch?” Kafei quieted down. I pulled at my fingers, feeling overly nervous.

“It doesn’t matter,” He sounded frustrated. I could imagine that he was doing that tick where he ran a hand through his hair and lightly pulled at it as he did. Link sounded annoyed and for whatever reason it upset me. “She’s just immature and wanted to do something her parents wouldn’t allow. I was a convenient solution. She doesn’t mean anything to me, not like that. Lay off, alright? It’s fucking annoying.”

My blood ran cold. What?

“You don’t mean that. You know that I know you don’t,” Now Kafei had raised his own voice, “It’s bullshit.”

“It’s just a job. Nothing more. I’m literally just walking her from place to place and getting money from it. Easiest gig I’ve had in 5 years. Are you happy?”

There was silence other than a sniffle. I quickly went to hold my nose.

“What was that?” I heard Link say.

Toma cleared his throat, “I’m sorry I think I had too much of your aunt’s chili.”

“Are you kidding me, Toma? I swear I should beat your ass,” Kafei said. The bickering continued and I took it as my cue to leave. My heart felt heavy in my chest. ‘I should have expected this,’ I thought repeatedly.

Anju found me before I did her. She was smiling brightly until she saw my face. “Goodness, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I knew I couldn’t smile to console her. “I think I’ll be off tonight instead.”

“Off?” She looked bewildered, “Off to where.”

“I’m not sure. Anywhere to be honest.”

She stared at me with concern filling her eyes and we later walked wordlessly back to her parents’ residence. They themselves were still at the festival and I felt a pang of guilt for not thanking them properly. She offered me a bag and I packed what little I had. The focus was getting out of here. I had gold and the clothes on my back. Anju packed what food she could.

Anju stood in the doorway of my temporary bedroom with my traveling clothes now clean and folded, “I won’t convince you to reconsider nor will I ask what happened.”

She set the clothes down on the bed and took my hands in hers, “However, when you go can I please tell Link?”

“I’m not so sure,” I found it hard to keep my voice steady. I couldn’t decide if I was simply mad or disappointed or sad. Whatever it was weighed heavily and all I wanted was to leave.

She dropped her hands and I frowned, “I think it’s for the best that I go alone.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“No, but I’m trying to.”

Anju stepped out and I changed. With the backpack strapped, I followed her out of the village. There were plenty of people leaving from the festival and we didn’t stick out. Once we reached the outskirts I turned to her, “Anju, it’s okay if you want to go back. I don’t expect you to be out here in the cold with me.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to leave you,” she was tearing up, making me do the same.

I embraced her, “I’ll be okay! And you should be okay too. You’re one of my closest friends and I wish nothing but happiness for you.”

“Be careful. Whatever he said or whatever he did… I’ll kill him if you want me to, Zelda.”

I laughed tearfully at her comment, “It’s fine, Anju.”

“No, it’s not! Obviously not.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “All he did was make it clear that he didn’t want to babysit me.” I cleared my throat, “And that’s fine.”

She wasn’t too convinced but relented. “I’ll miss you.”

We said some farewells and I made sure to have her do the same with Aryll and Malon. Then, we parted. I had produced a map from my coat pocket, found Hateno, and traced my finger to the Gerudo region. I’d have to back track quite a bit before reaching a new trading route, but I supposed it couldn’t be the worse of situations. I thought momentarily of going to the Spring of Wisdom, Mount Lanayru was right here, but decided that would be awful in the dead of winter. Gerudo region it was then.

I had been walking for a half hour or so. I took my time, there wasn’t anywhere I had to be immediately. No one to keep up with and no one to listen to. I frowned to myself, his stories weren’t that good anyway. In fact, they were boring and dumb. Tears pricked my eyes. They were very dumb. I hated the fact that his absence gave me no solace. I went into this whole idea of traveling with excitement for my independence and look where that has gotten me? I should be excited. Eager, even. I was just a job, huh? Well, he should be relieved that I left without him. Hell, maybe Link wanted me to leave.

The tune of the festival music was repeating in my head. He had a stupid smile too. And I lied to Aryll, he dances very badly. A tear escaped from my eyes, leaving a trail that the cold air clung to. I’m not crying. I am not crying. I hated the way he talked and the way he’d look at me. Even the way he looks. Why not just add that to the pile too? Amongst it all, the thing I most hated about Link Forester was how he refused to get out of my head.

“Where are we going?”

I screamed and my neck nearly snapped off with how fast I looked to my right. I nearly started bawling.

“Why did you leave?” Link Forester didn’t even want my answer to his initial question, not like it properly registered in the first place. I stopped in my tracks. Link was staring at me as if he was angry.

“How did you find out so fast? How did you-”

“Anju is a bad liar. Why did you leave without me?” Link had frustration written all over his face.

My tears had dried and were replaced with anger. “Don’t talk to me like that. If anyone should be angry, it should be me!”

He looked taken by my outburst. I was too, my bottom lip quivered and I started walking again. I didn’t want to face him right now. He said enough and I didn’t want to hear it again.

“Could you at least tell me why you’re angry?” He sounded defeated, tired and that in itself riled me up more.

“You’ve been dishonest with me!” I threw my hands up. It was obvious, was it not? “I’m immature! I mean nothing to you and I’m just a job.”

Link didn’t move to negate anything. Instead he just watched my emotions bubble over idly. I bit my lip hard to stop from outright crying. “I would be fine if you had told me upfront that you felt that way. I would have accepted it and we would move on like that. It’s not odd that someone deals with me just for money. I’m accustomed to it. I expect that.” I put a hand behind my head, trying to find my words before speaking again. Slower now, partly to myself, “I didn’t with you. I wanted desperately to believe that you hung around because you liked me. That may have been my own fault. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He just kind of stood there and stared. He was still wearing the same clothes from earlier tonight, his shoes were changed into boots though and he had his sword strapped to him. He was refusing to look at me. I drew my attention away from him. Link’s silence only confirmed my feelings and I hated it. Something dawned on me and I drew in a breath. If he wanted Princess Zelda of Hyrule, he could have her.

“I want to remind you that you are no means tied to my agency,” I had found my voice. It was an odd feeling to speak to him like this. But it did make him look at me.

My eyes stayed on him and he seemed shocked as if it were news to him. It wasn’t anything untrue. I stood tall in my boots and tried to void any feelings I had for him. They didn’t matter, much less to him.

“What are you talking about?” Link said incredulously.

I breathed inward. I knew I didn’t want to say it. In reality, I didn’t want him to leave my side. He was a comforting constant that kept me situations caused by my own shortfalls… but for someone who didn’t want to be by my side by pure choice alone wasn’t right. Goddesses, I want to be selfish and tell him he can’t leave my side even if his life depended on it. I knew he’d do it. I resented myself.

“You’re bounded by orders, right?” My heart was in my throat. “In the beginning I told you that you didn’t have to come with me. My uncle may be general, but by birthright my words hold higher precedence than his.”

I paused to read his face. There wasn’t much difference, as if my words didn’t register. Link moved his head to the side, as if about to deny me.

Frustration built within me, “Look! All I’m saying is that you don’t have to be here! I may be your charge and you may be the captain of my guard, but I’m also the high princess. So…” I pursed my lips, struggling to find purchase on what I was trying to communicate, “So, you don’t have to follow me around and deal with – everything. You can go back to Hateno or go back to Castle Town if you want to. Tell my father I fell into the mouth of a crocodile, I don’t care. I’m sure he’ll be relieved.” My voice gave out and cracked, “I apologize for getting you wrapped up in my own desires. It was never my intention.”

“Zelda, you can’t-“

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to hear another lecture right now,” angry tears stung my eyes. I sounded completely outlandish, but Hylia knows I was in too deep. There was a painful truth in my ramblings, and the harsh reality in his eyes stared back at me. “Everyone I’ve ever met has expected something from me and it usually ends in disappointment. Save yourself the breath.” I couldn’t look at him anymore. Here we go. Oh, woe as me. I turned and started walking, halfway into a jog. You know, in one of my sappy romance novels in Castletown the girl had a similar outburst. Poured all her frustrations out and tried leaving. It happened several times, but he always stopped her. Got her to stay until they could figure something out. Something to patch up their issues.

But I wasn’t living a sappy romance novel. I let my emotions triumph my logic all the time and nothing good has come of it. It was pathetic and impractical to think that I would ever have something akin to that. No knight in shining armor reached out to stop me. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t followed either.

  I wasn’t sure how much time went by. I did know how much I cried.

A lot.

Anju had snuck tissues into my bag and I’ve never been more grateful for a person. I didn’t look back after I left him and after an hour or so I did. He wasn’t there, unsurprisingly. I was tired and wrestled with stopping, but I knew if I walked through the night I could end up at the stable in the early morning hours and a soft bed sounded much nicer than the dirt.

I wasn’t too sure about the time. It was very late and it was silent other than the constant sound of my footsteps. I had hummed a long-forgotten song earlier. It was hard walking by yourself I found. It was colder too. I had my coat of course and it was formidable against the temperature. But it didn’t compare to a person.

Against everything that happened tonight, I missed him. What was with bad nights and celebrations? What an odd streak of bad luck.

My ears perked up to another sound. A steady tapping? I knew it wasn’t just my sound. My eyebrows creased and my heart beat faster.

“Leave me alone, Link.”

It continued.

“I told you before to leave me alone!”

Again, it continued and I whipped around.

It wasn’t Link.

Note: Hey beech. So that was spooky. Who is it? Idk. We’ll see, I’m so tired.

#loz #loz fanftction #htbaq #how to be a queen #link #zelda #zelink #fanfiction #fanfic #ashley writes #ashleyswrittenwords

[everlastingdreams]

Matthew Murdock x Reader : Love Is Blind

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Notes: I once had this idea back in 2016 (yikes) and today I wrote it down. I even send this thing in to a popular imagine blog back then. 

Summary: Reader is invited to her aunt’s yearly christmas party and she asks Matt to pretend to be her boyfriend for the evening to avoid her evil cousins making fun of her even more.

Word Count: 3126 words

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The last few weeks you had dreaded opening your mailbox and taking calls. You knew the moment would come, as it does every year. One morning you went to get your daily post and found an envelope. You recognised the handwriting immediately and your heart sank. This was it, the invitation. Every year your aunt would invite you to her yearly christmas party. And every year, you hated it. It wasn't your aunt's fault, your cousins however were a different thing. They were like the cruel step sisters in Cinderella. In short, they were bullies. Mean to anyone who they believed to be unworthy. You opened the envelope to find a beautiful white card decorated with glitter. Your aunt had good taste when it came to these things, she had even used a stamp with kittens on it. As you read the card you realised your mistake. She was not just inviting you, but also the boyfriend you had mentioned once on the phone to her. You had broken up with said boyfriend a while ago. "Great" you sighed. Now your cousins would certainly make your evening a nightmare. You used to hang out with them when you were younger, but you realised soon that all they did was bring you down. The last straw was one of them seducing your then boyfriend. It made you feel so bad that you have felt insecure since then. You knew they were pretty, everyone knew and so did they. You didn't stand a chance against them when it came to men. You really didn't want them to know that you were still single. And then you decided to do something risky. You found yourself standing in front of the door of Matt's apartment. You had been friends for 2 years now, and you were about to ask him a big favor. There was the possibility of him refusing or even laughing at your question, but anything was better then facing those evil brats alone. You knew Matt's hightened senses would have alerted him to you being there so you knocked. The door opened almost right away. " (y/n). Hi, I wasn't expecting you. You wanna come in ?" He motioned for you to step inside. You were nervous on how to ask this thing "Hi, Matt. Sorry I didn't call before coming here." He closed the door once you were inside "Don't worry about it. It's good to see you." He smiled at you "Do you want something to drink." "You got any beer ?" You blurted out and he seemed a bit suprised. "Wow. Sure, I didn't take you for an early drinker." He walked to his fridge to grab a bottle. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just a bit stressed today." You walked around the room a bit, hoping to calm your nerves. He opened the bottle of beer and handed it to you "Something I can help with?" He sounded worried. You fumbled with the bottle for a bit before taking a sip "About that...that's actually why i'm here." He walked over to you "I had a feeling there was something." "You mean you heard my heart playing like a drummer?" He let out a chuckle and nodded "Well, yeah. Tell me, (y/n). What's this about?" Your fingers were tapping on the bottle "My aunt...uh.. she holds this big party every christmas eve. And she expects me to be there of course. Only this year she expects me to bring someone along." He had a confused expression " (y/n), I don't really understa-" "I am asking you to accompany me to the party." You blurted it out before you would be too scared to ask. His brows shot up "So, you're asking me out ?" He stammered. You waved your hand "No, not exactly...”

“You want me to be your chaperone then ?” his voice wary.

You bit your lip, this was getting really awkward “I'm asking you to pretend to be my boyfriend for the evening." "Oh." He tilted his head "I feel honored that you are asking me, but why exactly do you need a 'fake' boyfriend ?" He was holding in a laugh. You rubbed you arm "I kind of forgot to tell them I broke up with my last boyfriend and now they want me to bring him to the party." “Auwtch.” he cringed “ Why don't you tell your aunt now?”

You took another sip of the beer “ It's complicated. But please, Matt, please help me out. This is very important to me and I'll owe you one, Please ?” you pleaded.

He let his hands rest on his sides and let out a breath “Alright. I'll do it.”

You nearly jumped from excitement when he agreed to accompany you “Thank you so, so much, Matt.” You took three steps before you hugged him. “You just saved me.”

He put a hand on your back and patted “You're very welcome, (y/n).”

You let go off him and headed to the door “I'll call you soon to give you the details and time. Okay?”

“Sounds good.” he chuckled. “See you soon, (y/n).”

You waved, knowing that he would sense it before you left his apartment.

That went better than expected, at least you wouldn't have to show up at the party alone now.

The day of the party had come and you were putting on the dress you had spent hours looking for in the many stores that you had visited. The dress wasn't cheap, this time you wanted to dress to impress. You wondered how your cousins would react to you arriving with Matt.

Even they would realise Matt was handsome, the thought of him being your company for the evening made you smile.

You brushed your hands over your dress, smoothing it out while looking in the mirror one last time.

You took a cab to your aunt's place, and made the cab stop around the corner where Matt was waiting for you. You tipped the driver and got out.

Matt had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a tuxedo and bow tie.

“Bow tie, huh ?” you said as you walked to him.

He touched the bow tie for a moment “ What ? Don't tell me I don't look good with it. I know you would be lying.”

“Alright, smartass. So, you ready for this?” you clapped your hands together.

He gave a quick nod and turned his cane between his fingers “I am. You ?” he asked you as you took hold of his arm.

“Not really, but duty calls.” you stated.

He laughed at your remark “Come on, how bad can it be ?”

“You have no idea..” you murmured.

“What do we tell them if they ask how we met? I don't think we can tell them that you hit me in the head because you thought I was a burglar.” his sarcasm was evident.

You rolled your eyes “First of all, that's what you get for climbing through people's windows in the middle of the night. Second, we will tell them we met at Josie's bar.”

“Got it. And you and I both know I climbed through your window to safe your life from the real burglar.” he corrected you.

“I know, I know. And once again, thank you for saving my life.” you were almost at your aunt's house.

“I am glad I did. Even if you hit me.”

You groaned “Can we just drop that subject, Matt ?”

He laughed and put his hand on your arm as you guided him.

You were in front of the door of your aunt's residence, feeling yourself panic.

“(y/n).” Matt squeezed your arm a bit “Breath.”

With that you drew a deep breath and exhaled. You couldn't back out now.

You rang the doorbell, you were holding on to Matt tightly.

The door went open and you were met by the wide smile your aunt was displaying on her face.

“(y/n) !!!! I am so glad you are here !!!” she held out her arms for a hug and you hugged her.

“Look at you, you've grown !” she beamed.

You shook your head and let out a chuckle “Auntie, you say that every year. And every year I stay the same height.”

She looked at Matt now “Oh my, who is this ?” she gave you a meaningful look.

“Oh, this is-” you started.

Matt held out his hand to her “Matthew Murdock, but please, call me Matt.” his voice smooth and he gave your aunt a smile that looked like he was posing for a magazine.

She seemed to be startled a bit as she took his hand to shake it.

“Well, I am glad you decided to join us this evening, Matt. (y/n) tends to be very discreet about her relationships so I am glad to see that she has indeed good taste. Like me, for example.” she claps her hands together “Aw just look at you two, so young and so in love. It reminds me of me and your uncle when we were young.”

Tears were welling up in your aunt's eyes as she spoke and reminisced about the past. Part of you felt guilty for lying now. But your aunt seemed to be so happy to see you, to see Matt.

“Oh lord, what am I doing, please come inside!” she held the door open so you and Matt could walk inside. “The party is in the garden, I thought it would be better as there are more people then last year.”

“Good thinking, auntie.” you told her as you and Matt made your way to the garden. Your mouth fell open when you stepped into the garden “Wow.” you breathed.

Your aunt had spared no expense this time, there was a large white tent in the middle of the garden that was covering the tables.

There were fairylights all over the tent and the garden. It was beautiful.

“What does it look like ?” Matt asked you and you realise he couldn't actually see it the way you saw it.

“Like a fairytale. There are small soft lights everywhere, and loads of christmas ornaments placed around the garden.” you told him as you walked to the people in the garden.

“Your aunt has good taste in food.” he stated and you looked at him confused before it dawned on you.

“Already after my aunt's apple pie, huh?” you nudged him.

The smile was wiped off your face quickly as you saw your cousins approach the both of you.

Their eyes fell on Matt for a little too long to not be obvious “Well, look who's here. (y/n), love the dress, the color is a bit last season though.” she said.

“But we know you don't keep up with fashion, bless your heart.” the other chimed in.

You swallowed when you heard their remarks “Good to see you guys too.” you feigned a smile.

“Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend ?” they were both eyeing up Matt at this point.

You shook your head “Of course, this is Matt. My.. boyfriend.” saying it felt... odd.

They stared at you in disbelieve “Your boyfriend ?” one of them asked.

“That's correct.” Matt now held out his hand to them “I'm (y/n)'s boyfriend. Pleased to meet you.” you noticed the tone of Matt's voice had changed.

They both shook his hand a little too long, and you started to feel irritated.

“Attention everyone !!!!” you heard your aunt's voice “Please make your way over to the tables, dinner is being served.”

“I guess we will be getting to know each other better over dinner then.” your cousin said to Matt and both your cousins were giggling as they walked away.

At this point you already wanted to leave this party, but you didn't want to disappoint your aunt, knowing how much work she must have put into all of this.

“I'm starting to understand why you asked me to come with you.” Matt said as you walked with him to the tables.

You didn't answer, you were too upset already. Somehow seeing your cousins flirt with Matt like that made you feel miserable. Old memories of them taking away all the boys you once had a crush on were resurfacing. Why was this bothering you so much ? Matt was your friend, it's not like he was really your boyfriend. This was as close to a relationship you would ever get with Matt, a pathetic lie.

Not like you stood a chance against any of your cousins now that they had aimed their arrows on him.

You leaded Matt to a place at the table that wasn't too close to your cousins, yet still close enough to hear them sadly.

Matt stopped you by holding your arm and pulled the chair from the table for you.

“Thank you.” you sat down. He folded up his cane and took place next to you.

“Is your aunt's apple pie as good as it smells ?” his mood was merry. The opposite of your own.

You shrugged your shoulders “It is.”

You sat in silence, making circles in your soup with the spoon. You had lost your appetite quicker than last year.

Matt tried to make some small talk with your uncle who was sitting next to him, often trying to get you to join the conversation. His attempts were in vain.

The table was filled with people talking about different topics and at one point it got a bit quieter and that's when you heard it.

Your cousins were clearly gossiping about you, at first you tried to ignore it, as you had always done. But then you heard it.

“She can only get a guy if he's blind.” one of them said.

It felt as if the air was punched out of you. You bit the inside of your cheek, and put the spoon you were holding down.

Matt had tilted his head to the side.

You shoved the chair you were sitting on back, you had to get away from everyone as you felt yourself starting to shake.

“(y/n)...” Matt's hand was on yours instantly.

“I'm... I'm just going to the bathroom. I'll be right back.” your voice was wobbly when you spoke.

He let go off your hand, he didn't seem pleased.

You got up from the table and made your way inside the house, you closed the door and were standing in the kitchen now.

The tears you were trying to fight were now falling and you tried to control you sobbing. You walked further in the house, hoping the noise of the party would fade-out the noise of you crying.

You sat down on the steps of the stairs in the house as you tried to control yourself.

The way your cousins had said it hit you hard. The worst part is, they were right. None of the other guys you had once shown interest in had chosen you. None of them. They always choose one of your cousins.

And you hated to think it, but what if Matt had not been blind ?

Would he be like the others and forget about you ?

You let your head fall in your hands and focused on your breathing.

The sound of footsteps almost made you jump, you looked and saw Matt approaching.

Great. Could this evening get any worse ?

“Sometimes I wish you didn't have such a good sense of hearing.” your voice was weak as you spoke.

He walked to you “Sometimes I wish that too. Especially when I hear you cry.”

You wiped your tears away with your hand “I'll be fine, Matt. You should go back to the party, I dragged you here after all.”

He was leaning against the stairs now “You didn't drag me here, (y/n). I wanted to come.”

“You must think I'm pathetic. Making my family believe I actually have a boyfriend.” you scoffed.

“No, (y/n)..” he sighed “I heard what they said back there, about you.” he came to sit next to you on the steps and put a hand on your back.

You burried your head in your hands, you wished he hadn't heard that.

“They are right, Matt.” your voice was wobbly again.

He chuckled lightly “I am pretty sure they are not.”

You groaned “No, Matt. You don't understand.” you shook your head “Every guy I ever dated, every guy I have been remotely interested in, every one of them all chose my cousins over me. And it won't be long before-” you stopped before the words could roll from your mouth.

He noticed your sudden silence “....before what ?”

You breathed in and closed your eyes “Before you choose one of them too and forget all about me.”

Matt fumbled with the cane in his hand before he directed himself to you “You think I will choose someone else over you ?”

His choice of words was odd and it grabbed your attention as you looked at him. You could only nod.

“Permission to speak freely ?” he leaned to you.

You nodded again.

“I'd rather be deaf too than date your cousins, (y/n). Sitting at the table with them was enough.” he smiled at you widely “And... don't take this the wrong way but..”

“Oh god, it never ends well when you start a sentence like that.” you interupted him.

He chuckled and continued “But.. I am glad those other guys choose your cousins.”

You furrowed your brows “Excuse me?”

“No wait..” he held up his hand in defeat, noticing his mistake “I am glad they did. Because if they hadn't, I wouldn't be sitting here with you now. You would be here with some other lucky guy.”

You looked at him as you realised what he was saying.

“What I'm trying to say, in a pretty poor way, is that I wish I was here with you but not as your fake boyfriend.”

“As what then ?” you prayed he was trying to tell you what you thought he was trying to tell you.

“How about next year, we go to your aunt's party, but I'll be your boyfriend for real ?”

“Is this your smooth way of asking me to be your girlfriend, Matt ?” you felt like your heart was going to burst.

“I am doing this poorly, aren't I ?”

You laughed lightly “Why wait 'till next year ?”

A smile spread on both your faces “Good question.” his finger lifted up your chin and his lips brushed yours. “I guess that's a 'yes' then?” he smirked against your lips.

You nodded and he kissed you again.

#matt murdock x reader #Matt Murdock #matthew murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil!reader #Matt murdock!reader #matthew murdock!reader #reader x matt murdock #reader x matthew murdock #Daredevil netflix #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil reader insert #matt murdock reader

[butmomilovepeter]

burn up with the water, the floods are on the plains

read on ao3?

~

It’s probably the dumbest photo he’s ever taken. The certificate was upside down, the bunny ear were way off, and both of their faces were goofy as ever.

So, obviously he had it framed.

It feels heavy when he picks it up. Like it hold more than just a plastic frame.

Peter was dead. He’s been dead for a good while now. But he couldn’t get past it. There were times, when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, where the frightened boy’s last words would replay slowly in his ears. Where he would have to get up and wash his hands because he could feel the dust on them.

He couldn’t move on, and he hated it. It was more than just the fate of the world. It was Peter, it was all Peter.

“Tony.” Pepper’s voice enters the room softly. She looked beautiful as ever, hair up and wispy.

Tony kind of had to get over it soon, considering he had a kid of his own on the way.

(He was my own kid—)

“Hey, Pep. How you feeling?” He asks.

She smiles softly. “Like crap. Nothing new.”

She comes over and wraps her arms around his torso. It’s nice to feel her safe in his arms. There were so many moments up there in the empty of space, when he thought he’d never feel this feeling again. It was one of those times that lately he’s been able to find light in the dark.

“Tony, I have news,” she said, still within the hug.

“And what’s that?”

He felt her breath on his neck. “It’s a boy. The baby is a boy.”

Tony feels his stomach flare. “We’re having a boy?”

Pepper nods. “Just thought you could use some good news today.”

Tony smiles. “Thank you for telling me.”

And there they stood, arm in arm, in the quiet of the kitchen.

Steve Rogers was downstairs. He wasn’t his enemy. Not even if he was pretentious as ever, he was the good guy. He lost too.

Clint seemed the most distraught. He lost, and he lost badly. He didn’t have to say it, you could just tell. The only one who seemed to know anything about it was Nat, and even she seemed distant.

But they were working on it. Slowly, bit by bit, they were coming back together.

And now, with Carol Danvers at their side, there wasn’t time to fail.

“Hey.” Pepper’s voice was light. “What are you thinking about?”

Tony thinks for a moment. “Baby names.”

“Baby names?” Pepper says with a laugh. “Can I hear them?”

“They’re kinda embarrassing. If I’m honest.” Tony replies.

“They can’t be that bad.”

“Well...I think they should have some importance to you, and all of mine are centered around me-”

“Lets name him Peter.” She interrupts.

Tony stops dead in tracks, because it’s the one thing he didn’t think she would say.

“Pep,” he cracks out. “You sure?”

She takes his face in her hands. They’re soft and delicate and warm against the cold of his face.

She doesn’t look happy. No one looks happy, exactly. Not when there’s still a bit of dust coating everything; not when there were children’s graves and memorials were littered around the cities.

But she looked content and oh so beautiful, and in that moment, there’s a small fleeting hope that things could stay that way.

“I’m positive. I...I like the name.” She resounds.

Tony smiles back at her sadly, gently turning back to pick up the picture frame. He strokes the side slowly with his thumb. “I want him here. With us.”

Pepper seems to understand. She nods and she puts a hand on it too. Peter and her had gotten closer as the months went on. May and her were friends. They went out for brunch together. They did normal mom things.

But now? May was home, alone, wallowing in all that was gone.

“We should go to May. She deserves to know.” Pepper whispers, setting the picture down for him.

Tony clears his throat. “Agreed. I-I feel bad for not going before.”

“Don’t be,” she replies. “I went there a few days before you came back. She...she wanted to be alone.”

Tony nods and tries to hide the fact that he starting to cry. There was that awfully sad feeling stuck in his throat again.

“Hey,” a new voice appears. Happy. “Want me to drive?”

Happy had a look on his face that didn’t often come out. It was low and sad, bags under his eyes making him seem much,much, older. He missed Peter too. Everyone who had ever met him did.

“Sure, Hap. May might want to see you to.” Pepper supplies.

And with forced smiles, the three made their way to Queens.

~

The Parker residence was one of the only apartments in the complex that was still occupied. The only one on the entire floor with someone in it. But with a loss so great, things like rent and real estate weren’t of great importance.

So as Tony made his way down the dirty hallway, with Pepper and Happy right behind him, he can’t help but think...this is not worth Thanos’s plan. It never thought it was a good plan. He absolutely did not want it to happen. But the damage was so great that it was a shock to him. Thanos wasn’t an illogical being. He had a reason.

(It was such a stupid reason.)

So why was the cost illogical? It didn’t make sense. What did make sense? That Thanos was pure, lawful, unforgiving evil. And Tony wasn’t in the mood to deal with it anymore.

Tony knocks slowly on the door.

“May? It’s-It’s Tony.”

There’s russling behind the door before it opens slowly.

May Parker stood there in the doorway. She looked skinnier than ever, like there were days where she didn’t eat. The bags under eyes looked more like bruises. Her clothes were wrinkled and baggy. And yet, she still had a deep, dark, fire in her eyes.

“You’re alive,” is all she says. Tony slowly nods his head, taking Pepper’s hand in his.

“You doing alright?” Pepper asks her, reaching out her other hand. May takes it slowly, shaking slightly as her fingers curl into Pepper’s.

“I’m-I’m getting there,” she laments. “Do you guys want to come in?”

She backs up to lead the way, showing off the mostly empty apartment. Everything is clean, super clean, like it was all she ever did.

Tony watches as Pepper takes May in her arms, not unlike the way she did to him earlier. Happy stands solemnly and awkwardly in front of the closed door, while Tony finds himself with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking distantly at the other pictures that the nearby shelf entails.

“You’ve been eating?” Pepper questions almost silently, hopeful the other men couldn’t hear. May nods slowly, and at Pepper’s raised eyebrow, she supplies: “I had some cereal this morning, I promise.”

Pepper gives her a small smile, taking both of May’s hand in hers.

“I’ve got some exciting news,” Pepper announces.

May tilts her head and returns the tiny smiles. “What is it?”

“We’re having a boy.”

May’s face broke into a mixture of excitement and pride, and Tony can see the tears form in her eyes.

“A boy?” She echoes through tears.

“You are?” Happy chirps from his place. Tony whips around to Happy, forgetting the didn’t tell him. The sides of his lips twist up just a little bit, but the grin was really all in his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s a boy. And…” Pepper put May’s hand on her stomach. “We wanted to name him Peter.”

May slowly lifts her head to meet Pepper’s eyes, a look of disbelief flashing all over her face.

Pepper beams. “Only if you consent to it, of course.”

“Consent?” May laughs. “Of course I consent!”

Tony decides to break in. “Well, that’s real good. Because you’re his godmother.”

It’s a spur of the moment decision, yet Pepper looks at him with agreement. May’s mouth opens slightly in surprise, but closes only seconds after. She looks like she’s about to sob, but she cuts it off with a smile.

Pepper wipes away the tears softly. Tony feels a pang of remorse for the woman strike his heart. She was young than him, but not by very much. She didn’t deserve to lose as much as she did. First the Parker’s, then her husband, and now...her son. Sure, nephew by law, but that was her son.

May takes a strangled breath and pulls herself together. “This is cause for celebration. Pep, come to the kitchen with me? I’ve got some cheese and crackers somewhere…”

The women’s chatter fades as Tony moves back towards Happy. He has a look on his face that Tony couldn’t quite place.

“What’s up , Hap?”

Happy looks up at him and sighs. “Nothing, nothing. It’s just sad. I guess.”

“I know,” Tony chokes. Goddamn lump in his throat. He swallows it down, along with the tears. He hates being on the verge of tears so often. He knows he’s no different from anyone else.

He makes another decision. “Hap, you want to be his godfather?”

Happy’s eyes winden. “Well, absolutely, Boss, but what about Rhodey?”

Tony had actually thought that one through. “Plan was to name him Peter Rhodes. I think that should suffice for Rhodey. And it sounds cooler than Peter James.”

Happy grins back at him. Tony claps him on the back as the ladies come back, arms full of food and a couple bottles of wine.

(And some iced tea for Pepper. She ain’t about to risk anything.)

So as Tony engaged with his found family members, drinking and eating and acting as if the air wasn’t still thick with dust and grief, the lump in his throat disappears.

Peter was dead. He knew that. He accepted that. But there was no accepting defeat.

There was a chance to win. A small one, yes. Maybe it wouldn’t even work. But there was enough hope in him that he couldn’t see a lose.

He saw them winning.

Whatever it takes.

#peter parker #tony stark #mcu #infinity war #spiderson #irondad #avengers endgame #pepperony #may parker #i wrote something!!! #fanfic #happy hogan #baby stark

[erenfanclub]

Take Care of Your Gods

ereri | mini bang 2019 fic | T rating | fantasy, fluff, slow burn

hi everyone! here’s my fic for the ereri mini bang run by @ererievents where I got to work with the incredible syn! find him @synstruckart or on twitter, insta, fb~ what a great opportunity to get to know him! thanks as always to the mods, and an extra special thanks to syn for putting up with me even before the actual art stage lol what a saint ♥ ♥ ♥

please go HERE to show your love for the art syn did for this self-indulgent story of mine~ i wanna hug that art so much

this is best read on AO3, as I’ll be updating throughout the week, but the prologue is under the cut for a quick preview!

It was an era where men and gods lived close to each other. Where humans had a respectful relationship with things they could not see, worshipping higher powers so that they could be saved from mortal weakness and the evils of the world. These beings had their own stories, of courage and kindness, of heartbreak and tragedy. Tales that humans would tell until they became truth or passed down into legend. Some were all but forgotten. But the most important teaching was always remembered, always passed on without fail.

Take care of your gods, and your gods will take care of you.

In the mountain village, the people needed a god to watch over their crops and livestock. Farm animals were placed on the flattest land, grazing on lush grass that grew where the competing wilderness had been cut back, and seeds were sown in smaller, man-made fields that looked like giant steps ascending the mountain. But even with all their tools and intelligence, humans could not fight their own ephemerality, and nature itself could not be tamed so easily. Many would not survive a harsh winter coupled with a bad harvest, and so they turned to a god and prayed for the protection of their livelihoods. Their home was settled high on the mountainside, on the south-eastern face where traversing the forest to get to the foothills was less perilous, but not so high as to disturb the powerful being believed to reside at the peak.

The shrine of their patron god was built overlooking the vast landscape, a short distance away from the uppermost houses. A safe and sacred place. Not overly large due to a river framing the area on one side and a cliff dominating another, but it was well tended to and frequently visited. Ever since its completion, disaster had never struck, and the village thrived. Wild animals stayed away from their food, trees that were planted for building materials grew thick and fast, locusts never swarmed their fields. The village rejoiced and thanked their god, honouring them with an annual festival and regular offerings.

Life was so bountiful that the humans thought they should no longer live in such isolation, and so they decided to try and expand in an effort to increase their quality of life even further. The population of the village had grown so much that it would not suffer from the loss of some adventurous young men and women, and so a group volunteered to travel to the base of the mountain and start a new settlement.

The second village was built to the south, in a bowl-shaped valley that boasted wide, open space and possible connections with a town half a day’s walk away. Once past the initial hurdles that came with setting out into new land, the people began to trade; better food, fresher seasonings, surplus materials, and new knowledge. Much of this was sent up the mountain, to where families awaited news of the budding village below. The path up to the village on the mountain was improved, but it still took a healthy man a couple of hours to reach on foot. Coming down the slope was far easier, and so people followed the first group curiously, to visit and to see what the others had managed to make for themselves. Most chose to stay on the mountain, where they felt most secure. And as the time came for the festival, people realised that the celebrations could not stretch all the way down to them in the valley. And so another decision was made.

The new village needed a shrine. It needed a patron god of its own.

The beautiful structure was built nestled away in the surrounding forest, in an area cleared and purified specifically for it. The villagers used only the best materials, and devoted weeks of time to make it perfect. And once it was completed, they stood back and admired the result, confident that it was good enough to bring them the same prosperity that they had known all their lives on the mountain.

People took a break from their labours and came together the following day, throwing a small festival on the grounds of the new shrine, playing music and dancing to welcome the god. The sun was low in the sky when near-silence fell for the first time and people bowed their heads and prayed. They wished for good health and good fortune, and to live fulfilling lives in their new home. They clapped their hands and spoke words of prayer in unison. And by the time the murmured phrase had ended, a figure had appeared in front of the shrine’s sliding doors.

It was a child, a young boy who appeared to be around five years old, dressed in pristine white robes with dark blue accents and a golden crest. Even under the shade of the sloped roof, his skin was visibly tan and unblemished, and his green eyes were bright and wide. Brown hair swayed at his temples as he turned his head side to side, taking in his surroundings and the crowd before him. And although he stood in front of everyone, raised above them on the shrine steps, not one person was looking at him.

They could not see his arrival, despite being the ones who had called for him.

On that day, the young god sat on the steps of his shrine and marvelled at the world around him.

And on the next day, at sunrise, he stood up in the first rays of light and closed his eyes. He cleared his mind until only a name remained, a name that resonated within him, deep in his bones.  In the peace of the early morning, he spoke, his voice clear as a bell.

“My name is Eren.”

#ereriminibang2k19 #my writing #ereri #we've both worked so hard along with everyone else involved and we hope you enjoy!! #also why cant i do a line break anymore tumblr

[seraphimluxe]

Saved by the Bell Part 1

Bucky x Reader

Warnings: gore, mentions of anxiety, evil zombie spirits, swearing, apocalypse, yeah the usual

A/N: I wrote this about a month ago and it was so bad i never planned to post, but I edited it today and don't think it's terrible? I've proofread this so many times I could probably recite it from memory 😅 this was also the first fic I'd EVER written so cut me some slack pls pls

Feedback is more than welcomed ❤️

°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

She should have seen it coming.

Part of her knew something was wrong.

Her world was in a limbo and everyone could feel it. Whispers and murmurs were the only verbal acknowledgement that anything was out of the ordinary. The sky was a murky wash of dirty paint colors, birds were silent and animals were solemn.

It was as if all matter was resting for a great awakening. The opening act.

Or rather the reopening act.

As superstition tells it, hundreds of years ago the rusted bell in the center of town, once un-ringable, clanged her glorious song, and thus the heavens opened. Hell was released. Dark, zombie-like spirits clambered for their flesh and souls.

Those who weren’t consumed and torn apart, were transformed into mutants, with a mindset akin to their own, creating a being more powerful than humans and themselves. The process was time-consuming and agonizing for both parties, therefore only a few dozen were recruited. The few humans left over gathered with the town mage, closing the portal and casting the spirits back to their dimension. Little is known about the mutants. Some say without a leader, they fled the town, although where they went is unknown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It woke you. It woke the whole town. The deep, sharp bellowing sent chills down your spine and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Everyone who heard understood it’s implications and purpose. Some were at work already, some preparing their meals, saying goodbyes before school, but within a few short seconds chaos erupted.

Clambering out of bed and through the front door, you braced yourself for the blinding sunlight, only to discover a dusky blight had fallen upon the world. Your eyes scanned the streets, men and women, a mass of panic and disarray. Instantly you recognized a familiar face, your almost-next-door-neighbor.

“Sam!” You caught his attention for a second before he shook his head and turned to the sky, fear laced in his eyes. You were afraid to look, almost knowing what you were going to find. Curiosity took its hold on, your eyes slowly trailing up to the apparent spectacle above you.

The sight was one you’ll never get out of your head, the sky opening up, letting darkness and ghost-like wispy creatures flood the earth like ants at a picnic. Any initial terror was magnified tenfold when a scream pierced through the air. Simultaneously snapping everyone to their senses, the crowd began stirring, shoving to get in any direction away from that.

“C'mon we gotta get out of here” Sam’s hand tugging on your arm, pulling you downtown with the crowd. There was shoving, another scream, followed by another, and another. Sam pulls you into a tight dimly-lit alley between two houses, both of your breathing heavy, and eyes frantic.

“Steve!” Sam called to the figure walking past the alley, and suddenly there were three figures in the alley- oh he’s got a plus one. A very large plus one.

Three men heavily breathing on you while the world erupted into chaos? Not exactly what you had planned this morning.

“Who’s she?” The plus one rasped, his voice dry from running, you assume. His eyes are piercing blue, even in the shade of the alley.

“A neighbor.”

“I’m Steve.” Followed by, what was supposed to be an outstretched hand, but in the tight conditions, just an awkward arm spasm, almost hitting your hip.

“Yeah, I gathered that much,” You joked, out of breath “I’m Y/N.”

“Cool. We don’t really have time for this shit.” Oooooh nameless plus one has a bit of an attitude. Duly noted. “We need to get away from the crowd if we want any chance at survival. They’re herding us like bison right now.” Pissy Pants has made a solid point.

“We could go to Natalia’s house?” Steve proposed optimistically,

“Mmm She’s-” An unnervingly close scream cut him off, he quirked a dark eyebrow underneath a long mess of hair. “She’s close to the docks.” he finished, “Let’s go, on three”

“Wait, wait, waaaait. Slow down, Tin Man”

Another quirked eyebrow, but this time it’s directed at Sam. It was a good look on him.

“We’re leaving. If you want to come, then come. Otherwise, just stay here and wait to die.”

“Bucky!” A whisper-yelled scolding from Steve. Wait, is his name Bucky? His mom must’ve been hitting the good stuff when she picked that.

Sam rolled his eyes and looked to you, awaiting your response.

“He’s probably right”

“That’s a big ‘probably’, Y/N.”

“Well there only one way to find out,” something between a scoff and a laugh escaped “Bucky’s” lips, and it would have surprised you, had it not been for his sudden countdown.

And as planned, you all bolted on “three”. Steve and his buddy leading the way through some kind of sick obstacle course. A second wave of adrenaline pulsed through your veins and sends your heart crashing against your chest. The pounding in your ribcage and ears is not unlike the sudden and loud noise behind you.

This had to be a dream.

There’s no other reasonable explanation, right?

A million various anxiety-provoking thoughts streamed through your head on a conveyer belt. Everything, and potentially everyone you know is being destroyed.

That’s lovely.

Upon arrival at Natalia’s house, the brilliant young men discovered that it was locked… And now you’re in the shed. Another dark, enclosed space with the three boys, but fortunately, this one farther from the screams.

“We need to devise a more long term plan.” Shorty with the hair has apparently mistaken this for a boy scouts training mission, and elected himself “troop guide”. He’s right, nevertheless.

“What do you have in mind?”

A glint of metal shifts across from you. A shovel maybe?

“They probably won’t be operating it, but taking the boat would be a good choice.”

“This is Bucky, by the way,” Steve whispers and gestures to him. You nod, Yup, gathered that much.

Bucky’s really got a vendetta against that shovel next to him.

“If we took a boat, we’d either be super screwed or super safe.” Sam offered,

“Okay, but what about our families? We’re just gonna leave them?”

Between Bucky sighing, and Steve grimacing, the answer doesn’t look good.

“Doll, this is survival of the fittest at this point. There’s no telling if they’re alive, and if we go out searching for them, we won’t last. We’re responsible for ourselves right now.” Bucky’s voice was softer than you were accustomed to, but still firm.

He was right. Now wasn’t the time to do something stupid and self-sacrificial-

“We could try-”

“Steve, he’s right. We could be looking for, God forbid, dead people. Or they could be safe and we’d get ourselves killed searching for them.” You hated what you were saying. You hated that the situation has come to this point. It’s been an hour and you’ve already resorted to abandoning your family. What’s next? Eating each other?

You shudder at the thought.

“Should we send someone to scope the docks, or should we all just go on three?” Sam, out here asking the real questions.

“Sendin’ someone to scope would kinda be a terrible idea, but I’ll volunteer if we’re gonna do it.”

“I say we die together.” 6 horrified eyes stare back at you. You clap your hands “Alright! let’s do it!”

“I’m down,” Sam shrugs

Everyone unceremoniously rising at once, serving as a reminder that this was, yet another, very tight space for 4 people to coexist in.

Upon standing, Bucky shifted into a stream of light coming from on of the cracks in between the wall panels. The once presumed shovel, is now very clearly not a shovel

“Oh fuck,” You whisper.

That’s his arm.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, mechanical and prosthetic limbs weren’t entirely uncommon in Aeston. You just somehow missed that small detail in the panic and chaos.

Wait, he was running in front of you the whole time, were you really THAT oblivious?

It was only when he let out a small chuckle, did you realize that you were staring, eliciting another mumbled “Oh fuck”

Thankfully, he changed the topic to a countdown. Everyone began preparing for a potential death, and on his cue, they silently fled. Steve and Bucky naturally taking the lead as you began to wonder where is this boat anyway?

That was your largest concern, until you rounded a corner and were met with Steve’s eerily large back. When you saw what stopped him, you wished you’d never left the shed.

A woman in her mid-fifties, half of her body was carnage, clearly having been dragged through the street. She had been consumed from the waist down, allowed her insides to spill onto the cobbled road. Worse yet, she was still being eaten.

Sam was equally as distraught as you, his eyes wet with fear and his hand trembling near his parted lips. The creature snapped it’s head up from her carcass, the gray skin of it’s face coated in blood. Up close you could see that it didn’t have a body, the flesh of the face faded into smokey darkness.

It opened its mouth and released a noise that sounded something in between a squeaky door, and a growl. Chills shot down your limbs, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying. Your whole body was numb from fear, the blood draining out of your complexion.

Steve and Bucky began to slowly back up, one of their hands took residence on your arm and guided you behind them, and away. The very second they couldn’t see it anymore, Bucky whispered “Run.”

Fighting your shaking legs to function was a difficult task, focusing all your energy on not tripping. The pounding of your shoes on the road mimicking the one in your chest. Bucky’s back was your guiding light, and damn he was fast. Your lungs began to burn.

You were definitely not getting enough oxygen.

He hopped off a ledge and onto the sand a few feet below and ushered you down and under a pier. Grateful for a break, you scurried down and collapsed on the ground, panting. Your hands still shaking terribly, and you’re sure that even if you hadn’t just run 45mph, your heart would still be exploding against your chest. The image of the woman replaying in your head.

That could’ve been any one of you. That’s the reality you’re living in right now.

You don’t want this. This is bad. It’s childish of you to wish for a time machine, but you do. You’re desperate to feel safe for even a moment.

You also really don’t want to cry. Not here, not now, not in front of everyone. Crying isn’t practical and it’s not going to save you. Tough it out, you tell yourself.

Steeling yourself, you take a breath. Steve looks like he’s worse off than you. Though no one is shedding tears, the panic, horror and trauma is spelled out in their features and in their mannerisms. You wouldn’t have to be observant to note the almost tangible air of anxiety under the pier.

You and Bucky compose yourselves first, him being concerningly only half-affected. He opened his mouth to presumably say something comforting but was interrupted.

“Do you hear that?” Everyone held their breath for a moment, and all at once they noticed the whisper of hushed voices somewhere on the pier above. The soft knock of shoes against the wood. Sam and Steve still disoriented from the previous events, but the distraction wholly welcomed.

Bucky held up a finger and ducked out from under his cover, quickly pulling himself up onto the pier. You hear his heavy footsteps carry about twenty feet away, and then his low gravelly voice added to the rest. You’re unable to make out what he’s saying, but his serious tone quickly switched to a surprised and happy one.

Well that’s a good sign.

The engagement draws to an end, and the heavy clunk falls closer and closer to you, and then with a big thump he lands on the sand beside you.

“We’re good. Boat’s leaving in 10 minutes. They’re stocked with clothes and supplies and shit.” His voice was unnervingly chipper.

“And Steve, you’ll never believe who I found,” Another figure hopped in the sand next to him, a small girl who looked only a few years older than you.

The plus one has a plus one.

“Nat?” Steve asked, he still sounded weak, but carrying the same cheeriness as his colleague.

“Hey big guy,” Her voice was smouldering and husky, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do things to you. It was the perfect contrast to her doll-like charm.

Wow, I can’t believe Bucky recruited an angel to save us.

“So these are the friends you were telling me about..” When she spoke those words, you realized you all probably looked bedraggled and forlorn, crouching under a rather short pier. Both Samuel and You were still in your pajamas. How embarrassing. “They’re cute,” Oh.

Wait, 'friends’?

“C'mon, we’ll get you sorted.” She glanced around her, scanning for any threats, before offering her hand to you. You accepted it and less than gracefully stumbled out into the open, finally taking note of your surroundings for the first.

It was the downtown pier, the one outletting to the Solair River, also known as “the river so huge it should probably be considered an ocean”.

Steve immediately assumed the role of Introducing everybody, awkward, but sweet. Apparently this was the “Nat” whose shed you inhabited. Cool.

Her constant glancing around and hurried steps almost made her seem paranoid, but her demeanor and casual conversation with Bucky told an entirely different story. Her hand on your lower back ushered you into silent line loading onto the ship.

You were boarding, leaving, escaping the life you knew with your neighbor and three people you’ve never met before. Putting your faith in them and trusting them in such a dangerous situation would either be your downfall or your saving grace.

Fear was silent and smelled like sand and cool, murky water.

#avengers fanfiction #bucky fanfic #marvel drabble #bucky fluff #bucky oneshot #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #marvel angst #avengers angst #avengers fluff #avengers imagine #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel headcanon #marvel fluff #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #marvel

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: What Henry Saw (Chapter 5)

In which we learn more about the curse and the lives of those under it, and there is something of a cliffhanger. 

Summary: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time the Saviour is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from her son and anyone else who might help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Hook are soulmates, working together within their shared dreams to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from the clutches of evil yet again. (Alternate 3B, set in the What Dreams May Come universe)

Rating: A hard M

Tagging: @teamhook @wellhellotragic @rouhn @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @bonbonpirate @thejollyroger-writer @lfh1962 @laschatzi @katie-dub

Anyone wishing to be added to or dropped from this tag list, please do say so.

Read it on AO3

What Henry Saw: 

As soon as the door closed behind Emma, Killian collapsed against the kitchen counter and ran a shaking hand over his face. He felt like a puppet with its strings cut; held tense and controlled throughout the performance but unable to keep himself upright or control his movements once that guidance had been severed. He’d thought he was prepared for every eventuality, had rehearsed a hundred scenarios in his head. What he would do if Emma hated him on sight, if she were back with Baelfire, if the curse made her inaccessible to him somehow, if she were simply indifferent to him. What he hadn’t prepared for was for her to look at him softly, the familiar attraction sparking in her eyes, asking him questions about herself as she caressed the ring that had not left his finger since she had placed it there more than a year before.

He missed her so much. Killian pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, just above where his heart was still thundering, still going, battered and sore as it was. It was ridiculous to miss someone when they were sitting right next to you, but sharing grilled cheese and hot chocolate with Emma that afternoon, as they had so often done before, Killian had never missed her more. At least a hundred times he’d had to consciously restrain himself from reaching out to touch her, had to clench his jaw to hold in the words he’d longed to speak when she had asked him about his wife.

Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you.

He should never have invited her to lunch. Being near her in the apartment was far more difficult than it had been in the shop, but however fierce the pain of her company was that of her absence was worse. After a year of seeing her only in their dreams he hadn’t been strong enough to let her go again so soon. Not when her smile was so familiar, not when it was clear how unhappy she was in her cursed life.

Killian had suspected for some time that although she had her memories, Emma in the dreams was still partly under the influence of the curse. He suspected that it was this and not the dreams that prevented her from telling him what he needed to know, from speaking frankly about her life. Her belief that her cursed self loved Walsh seemed somehow... imposed on her, both asleep and awake, like a supplementary level of memory manipulation on top of the standard curse amnesia. Could it be that Emma was fighting back against the curse so successfully that she had to be given extra dose of it to keep her in line? If anyone could manage to throw off a curse singlehandedly, it would be Emma Swan. But who was administering this dose? Who was keeping watch on her?

He wished Henry would come home so they could talk about it. The lad was bound to have ideas.

A glance at the clock on his phone told him that it was just past two, Henry wouldn’t be back for well over an hour. Killian supposed he should do more work on the accounts, there was plenty to be done, but he doubted he’d be able sit still or concentrate. Now that the shock of weakness following Emma’s departure had passed he was feeling restless and antsy. He wanted to do something.

He decided to head to the office anyway, just to see if there was anything that might occupy his mind, but just as he was sitting down at his desk he heard the unmistakable sound of the shop door opening. Again.

Gods have mercy, he thought in exasperation, what is it now?

He went downstairs with his heart in his throat, forcing himself not to rush. When he saw who it was at the door a grin spread across his face even as he breathed a sigh of relief at finding himself greeted by nothing more alarming than a wide smile and a warm handshake.

“Bet you forgot I was coming, eh Jones?” crowed the man standing in the shop doorway, in a Queens accent so thick you could slice it and serve it on toast.

“Aye, I confess I did. I’ve had rather a lot on my mind, you know.”

“I believe it. Here I am though, as promised. Where do you want the stuff?”

Killian clapped the man on the shoulder, immensely cheered to see a familiar face that recognised him back, and followed him outside to a truck that was loaded with everything that Henry had ordered on the day of their arrival. This included a large leather Chesterfield sofa, which as the lad had predicted perfectly suited the spot underneath the large window at the end of the shop. Together the two men unloaded it along with a dozen boxes of books and enough wood to construct three more bookshelves.

“Well, this oughta keep you busy,” declared Frank McClelland, for that was the delivery man’s name, or at least the one he was using at present. He stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the shop, and when Killian came to stand next to him and offered him a beer he accepted it gladly, tapping the neck of his bottle against his host’s.

“Aye, and I’m grateful for it,” Killian replied, taking a long drink of his own beer. “I badly need a diversion, and something physical to do.”

“You’ve seen her then?” The question was casual, its tone was not.

“She left not long before you arrived.”

“She was here? Already? That’s quick work, buddy, even for you.”

“She came on her own initiative.”

“You don’t say,” said Frank McClelland thoughtfully. “Did she look at the books?”

“Aye. For over two hours.”  

“Huh.”

Killian turned to look sharply at this man he dared to call a friend. Frank McClelland’s round face was ruddy and good-natured, by all appearances that of a jovial man who enjoyed a drink or two most nights and who spent his days doing physical labour in the out-of-doors. His eyes were set deep into this face, surrounded by laugh lines and pouches of bloat, and thick, wiry eyebrows. Most people didn’t look at them too closely, allowing themselves to be distracted by the cheerful grin that stretched wide across his countenance or by the bulbous nose that was always red at its tip. This suited Frank McClelland perfectly, for if they had looked they would have seen that his eyes were a sharp, iridescent green, luminous and mesmerising, brimming with an intelligence that was not entirely human. Most people, if they ever were tempted to look into those eyes would feel a prickling of unease, a deep and primal instinct warning them to step back, to look away. But Killian Jones had never been most people, and he knew what Frank McClelland was. Setting down his beer he abruptly caught the other man by the shoulders and stared directly into those remarkable eyes.

“I think she’s fighting off the curse,” he said, fixing the thought of Emma in his mind as the green eyes began to glow, flooding his field of vision with their light. “Trying to break free of it herself. Can she do that?”

“She can.” The flat Queens accent was gone, replaced by a far more lilting one, calling to mind verdant hills and rainbows arcing over distant horizons. “Emma Swan is the product of true love, wielder of powerful light magic. She was born to break curses and curses cannot easily constrain her. Even unaware of her abilities her magic is strong within her. But be forewarned, Killian Jones.” The lilting voice took on a hint of menace as the edges of Frank McClelland blurred and began to glow with a shimmering golden light. His eyes burned brightly and Killian found he could not look away from them, felt himself being sucked in and subsumed, his own blue eyes drowned in a sea of green. “Despite the strength of her determination, of her magic, and of her love, she cannot fully break this curse through will alone. She can but weaken it, forcing the hand of her enemy to strengthen the fetters that bind her. The Caster is as powerful in darkness as the Saviour is in light, and without intervention they will ever remain locked in stalemate. To break this curse the Saviour must have aid from her true loves. Both of them.”  

She needs her true love. Killian grasped desperately at this thought, focusing his mind on it and it alone, clinging to the unravelling threads of his identity and refusing to let go until he felt the pull of Frank McClelland’s emerald gaze begin to weaken. Summoning every ounce of strength that remained in his limbs he pushed at the other man’s shoulders, propelling himself backwards into the wall, drained and trembling but free, and with at least some of the answers he needed. As he lay gasping against the cold brick the light surrounding the delivery man abruptly winked out, leaving the room feeling unnaturally dim in its absence. Frank McClelland calmly set his half empty beer bottle down next to Killian’s then retrieved a Mets cap from the back pocket of his jeans and pulled it low over his brow.

“Well, I should be going,” he said cheerfully, his flat vowels and nasal intonation returned in all their glory. “Long drive, you know.”

“Aye.” Killian stood up straight and offered his hand. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For everything.”

The other man shook it warmly. “My duty,” he said, “And my pleasure. You’re a man of remarkable strength and daring, my friend.” The fae twinkled briefly in his expression, then was gone. “Bring your family back to see me, as soon as you’re able.”

“I will,” promised Killian, and he meant it.

Once Frank McClelland and his truck had disappeared from view, Killian took out his phone again. Henry’s school day had just ended, he should be heading home now. He wondered if the lad would send a message to say he was on his way, or if it would be considered ‘nagging’ if he sent one. Killian had a horror of nagging. He was still weighing the pros and cons a minute later when the phone buzzed in his hand and he jumped slightly in surprise.

Henry: Going to walk around a bit, explore. Won’t be too late.

Killian sighed. Of course. The boy had been holding in his curiosity for days now, it wouldn’t be suppressed forever. He texted back. All right, lad. You know what to do if there’s trouble.

He wouldn’t worry, Killian promised himself. Henry’s judgement could be trusted. Tucking his phone back into his pocket he began to open the newly delivered boxes and arrange what books he could onto the shelves, wondering how Henry’s day had gone.

Earlier that morning:

Henry kept his posture straight and his steps sure until he had turned the corner and moved out of sight of the apartment window, knowing his dad would be watching and not wanting to add to his worries by any show of hesitation or reluctance. Once out of view, however, his shoulders slumped and he dragged his feet through the damp leaves at the edge of the sidewalk, slowing his pace. He had no idea what to expect at school, and though he was determined to carry out his role in the plan the prospect of returning to another place that should be familiar but wasn’t unnerved him.

All of Storybrooke was like that, he reflected, looking around him. It was the same, the same signs and storefronts, the same houses and yards and even some of the same cars he remembered from the days of the original curse, and yet it wasn’t. It was subtly different in a way he couldn’t put his finger on, a way that was all the creepier for being so elusory. A shiver crawled up his spine on spidery feet and he clenched his fingers on the straps of his backpack, forcing himself to keep walking like nothing was amiss. There was no one behind him, he knew there wasn’t, but the feeling of a coldly curious gaze observing him as he walked was hard to shake. It was the same feeling he’d had going through the forest on their approach to town. Though he’d said nothing, not wanting to alarm his dad, that forest was not what he remembered.

He supposed he’d have to alarm his dad eventually, but intended to put it off until he’d determined what exactly there was to be alarmed about. Creepy feelings and ominous woodlands weren’t much to go on.

Carefully he kept his face in bored teenager mode even as his every sense was on alert for anything that stood out as odd, and for even a glimpse of any member of his family. He stopped in front of Granny’s, taking his phone from his pocket and slouching against the fence, appearing to any casual observer entirely absorbed in whatever was on the screen. Teenagers on their phones were a common enough sight that he would attract no particular attention or give anyone any reason to look closely enough to notice how his eyes were darting everywhere but at the screen. Quickly he scanned the crowd within the diner looking for his mom —either of his moms— but couldn’t see them. The dwarves were all there, Leroy’s plate piled high with bacon, but no sign of Emma or Regina. As he loitered a gust of wind whirled up from the ground and spiralled around him, carrying some of the drier leaves along with it, its icy tendrils of air curling like fingers under Henry's scarf and up the back of his neck. He suppressed a shudder and took the hint; apparently whoever —whatever— had its eye upon him was not as easily fooled as the passersby who were going about their business, taking no notice of him. Pushing himself away from the fence he continued walking, deciding not to wait for the bus. It wasn’t far to walk, he’d be there in plenty of time and walking would allow him some quiet moments to think. Henry had never been certain why Storybrooke even needed a school bus. Perhaps it was just what the curse thought a small Maine town would have.

As he entered the school grounds he began to notice some familiar faces. Grace was there, and Ava and Nicholas, and all the other kids he’d known over his years in Storybrooke, all appearing from the outside very much in line with his recollections of them. Eerily in line, actually. Under the first curse Henry had grown almost used to aging when no one else around him did but it had been a slow process then, and the realisation that his former classmates were just the same as he remembered while he himself had aged more than two years gave him a jolt.

He searched their faces for any hint of recognition. There was none.

Reporting directly to the office as his dad had instructed, he introduced himself to the bored looking school administrator who nodded and handed him his schedule without comment. HENRY JONES was written in bold capitals at the top. GRADE 7. Seeing that name and knowing it was his still gave him a little thrill even though he’d been using it now for more than a year. Names had power; even if he hadn’t known that from reading his storybook he’d have deduced it from his own experience. There was rather a lot of experience to go by, after all, he’d had more names than most. Henry Jones wasn’t quite the same person as Henry Mills or even Henry Swan. Henry Mills was a wide-eyed boy, clinging to hope and belief as his only weapons against the dark curse that surrounded him, Henry Swan was a normal New Yorker. Henry Jones, though, he was a pirate’s son, raised to the cusp of adulthood by a clever and dangerous man, taught by him the knack of survival and perseverance when all the power and all the odds were arrayed against him. Henry Jones was a risk taker with no patience for bullshit who would do whatever was necessary to save the people he loved, just like his dad. Henry Jones could infiltrate this school and this town and gather the intel they needed to break the curse. He grinned to himself. Henry Jones looked forward to the challenge.

As a seventh grader his classes were in the junior high building. He decided to take the long way there, a way that took him past his old fourth grade classroom. Mary Margaret’s classroom. Slowing his pace as he passed it he was able to peer through the open door, but once again the person he sought wasn’t where he’d thought to find her. In her place was a man, one he didn’t recognise. Henry frowned. If Mary Margaret wasn’t a teacher, where was she? Who was she? What had become of his grandparents under this curse?

Aside from his absent grandmother everything else about Henry’s first day back at school turned out to be frustratingly normal. The kids in his class were the same ones who’d been in the seventh grade when he’d been in the fourth, with the only startling thing being the addition of three new faces that he immediately recognised as Lost Boys. So at least some of Pan’s old crew had been swept up in this new curse too, thought Henry. Interesting. Interesting yet in no way illuminating.

As he left school that afternoon he found that his feet were of their own volition carrying him not in the direction of his current home, but down the familiar-yet-not streets that led to his old one. He should go home, he knew, back to the cannery loft to report the day’s findings to his dad. But he couldn’t go back yet, not until he’d investigated further, until he’d found some information on at least one of his relatives. Taking out his phone he sent a quick text. Going to walk around a bit, explore. Won’t be too late.

The reply came with an alacrity that suggested his dad had been waiting to hear from him. All right, lad. You know what to do if there’s trouble. Henry nodded in confirmation even though there was no one to see him. He did know what to do if there was trouble. He’d been taught well.

The house was as he remembered, starkly monochrome, its precisely cut greenery casting twisted shadows in the long afternoon light. He’d hated its austere elegance as a child and wasn’t any fonder of it now that its crisp edges and gleaming paintwork seemed to shimmer with the unsettling quality that permeated the town under this new curse, coiling and amplifying it into something almost physically malevolent. Henry suppressed a shudder and gritted his teeth, pushing through the gateway and into air that did not want him there, moving determinedly forward in defiance of the house’s angry resistance until he stood just to one side of the living room window, hidden from view but with a clear line of sight on the scene inside.

Well, he thought, that’s basically the last place I expected to find her.  

The room was just as it had always been, its soothing neutral decor and crackling fire belying the stark rigidity of the hand that had shaped it, but the place on the damask sofa normally occupied by his adoptive mother was filled instead by his grandmother. Mary Margaret sat with her back straight and shoulders square, one ankle tucked behind the other and a book resting in her lap. She was dressed as Henry had never seen her before, not in the cute, retro style she had previously favoured but in a crisply cut skirt suit that recalled the same era as her former wardrobe, yet in a way that made her appear not gentle and approachable but coldly haughty. The suit was in a shade of pastel blue that should not have chilled his blood the way it did, nor should the three strands of matched pearls at her neck or the sharp tidiness of her hairstyle have caused his hand to tremble as he laid it on the windowsill, leaning forward as far as he dared to get a closer look. Her face was blank, devoid entirely of expression, and when Henry’s grandfather entered the room and she looked up at him it did not change.

David’s expression was equally blank, his clothing equally odd. Gone were the jeans and plaid shirts Henry had always known him to wear, replaced by tan chinos and a blue sport jacket. With a crest of some sort on the breast pocket. Henry blinked at the sight of that crest, shaken out of his alarm at this turn of events by a bizarre realisation. His grandparents were dressed up like dolls, perfectly costumed as stereotypes of wealthy WASPs of the 1960s, almost caricatures of them. Images he had seen in history books began to dance through Henry’s mind. John and Jackie Kennedy at Hyannis Port, on the campaign trail, in the White House, the brilliance of their moneyed gloss and attractive smiles concealing the fractured marriage beneath. Was that what this was?

Something tickled at the back of Henry’s consciousness, something he had heard, or possibly read. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. The indifference that now marked his grandparents’ interaction as they nodded to each other as people nod at acquaintances in the street. Mary Margaret picked up a small silver bell from the table at her side and rang it sharply, then returned her attention immediately to her book as David moved to the sideboard to pour himself a drink, leaning on his forearm against the mantel and staring silently into the flames beneath it as he sipped.

The wind that had chased Henry away from Granny’s that morning suddenly returned, more forcefully this time, driving frigid fingers of air into every gap in his clothing, wrapping around him, pulling at him, adding its strength to that of the house while its chill sapped his own. Henry acquiesced gladly to its demand; he hated being here and wanted nothing more than to get home and hug his dad, unburden himself of everything he’d learned today and let Killian’s sharp and logical mind break it all down and reassure him that they would be able to handle whatever the curse could conjure up. He began to turn away from the window, already anticipating the hot chocolate he knew his dad would make to warm him as they talked, when from the corner of his eye he saw the living room door open again, and the sight of person who walked through it froze Henry in his tracks.

She was dressed as a maid, because of course she was, in the black and white uniform he was pretty sure maids only wore in old movies. Another caricature. Her face was tired, haggard, with dark smudges beneath the eyes and lines of worry around the mouth, framed by dark hair that was limp and stringy and quite unlike the thick, well-tended mane she had always had, every day, for as long as he could remember. Not even Neverland had managed to render his mother anything less than perfectly coiffed. And yet here she was, looking so broken he barely recognised her, standing in front of Mary Margaret with her head bowed and her hands clasped loosely in front of her, awaiting instruction.

“Ah, yes, Regina,” said Mary Margaret, finally looking up from her book after allowing the silence to drag out just long enough for everyone to feel uncomfortable. “I will be dining alone this evening. I’m afraid Mr Nolan has other plans.”

David remained motionless against the mantelpiece, only his mouth curving into a bitter smile. He muttered something that Henry could barely hear, but it sounded like “I’ll certainly be making some.”

“Very good, madam,” said Regina, dropping a small curtsey before retreating from the room. Henry gaped. His dad was right. Whoever had cast this curse had a bloody vicious sense of humour. And a particular grudge against Regina.

Mary Margaret looked down at her book again. “Don’t let me keep you, David,” she said. David snorted and pushed away from the mantelpiece, draining his drink in one gulp and setting the glass back down on the sideboard with an angry thunk.

“Oh, you won’t,” he sneered and stalked from the room, letting the door bang shut behind him. Moments later he burst through the front entrance and strode purposefully down the path to the gate. Henry flattened himself against the wall of the house, but his grandfather didn’t even glance in his direction, instead sliding into a low-slung black sports car that could not be further from the beat-up old truck he’d driven before, and peeled away from the curb with a squeal of his tires.

Henry looked back into the room where Mary Margaret was still sitting, eyes still on her book. When the sound of David’s car had faded away she sighed and closed it, setting it aside as she rose and poured a drink for herself, tossing it back with an abandon that had Henry gawping again, and immediately pouring another. Henry stared, trying to process this development. He’d seen Killian and Emma drink like that once, one night when they’d thought he was asleep, but for them it had been a game, a challenge. Foreplay, though he knew they’d be mortified if they discovered he’d understood that. Mary Margaret’s drinking seemed to be driven by pure unhappiness, the simple need to forget. She filled her glass a third time and took a large gulp just as the door opened once more and Regina reappeared. “What is it, Regina?” she asked sharply.

“I beg your pardon, madam, but I forgot to tell you earlier. There wasn’t any kale in the market today, so I got arugula instead. I hope that’s all right.”

“It’s not all right, but I suppose it’s what I’ve come to expect from you,” snapped Mary Margaret, taking another long drink. “Have dinner ready at six. If you think you can manage that very simple task.”

“Yes, madam.” Regina curtsied again then turned to go and as she did she looked up and her eyes met Henry’s through the window. She gasped and stumbled, catching the doorframe to keep from falling, astonishment and terror in every line of her body.

“Wha’s wrong with you?” asked Mary Margaret, her words beginning to slur as she emptied drink number four. “You ‘ad better not be drunk.”

“No, madam, I— it’s nothing. I’m sorry.” She met Henry’s eyes again and hers implored him to go, run, get away from here! He heard the words as clearly as if she’d shouted them.

“‘Sthere someone ou’side?” Mary Margaret’s suspicious query spurred Henry into action. He pushed away from the wall and fled, as fast as he could go, letting the pull of the icy wind and the force that surrounded the house propel him forward, away from the appalling scene. He ran blindly until his lungs burned and his legs ached and he could go no further. Blinking away the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes he looked around, realising that he had unconsciously run to the old park where he had used to play, where his castle had been. The place he’d always felt safest in Storybrooke. Collapsing onto a bench he took out his phone and called his dad.

“Henry?” Killian answered on the first ring, his voice gruff with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I— I need you to come get me. I’m at my old park, it’s near the—”

“I remember. I’ll be right there.”

Henry sighed deeply in relief. His dad was coming. Everything would be okay. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his head as the images of the scene he’d witnessed ran through it on an endless loop, unable to make them stop or to fully grasp what they meant. Soon he heard the sound of the truck pulling up, the door opening, and his dad’s footsteps running towards him. He leapt from the bench and began to run himself, meeting his dad halfway and slamming into his hard chest, letting his tears finally fall as Killian’s strong arms closed around him.

“What’s this, lad?” Killian stroked Henry’s hair, trying to soothe him. “What happened?”

“I went to my house,” gasped Henry, through his sobs. “My old house. It— it was awful. This curse is awful.” He pulled back, wiping his cheeks and looking up into Killian’s concerned face. “Dad, I think— I think my mom —Regina— I think she has her memories.”

#cs ff #canon divergence #alternative 3b #cursed captain swan #cursed storybrooke #captain cobra #mystery #cursed snowing #their way by moonlight #profdanglaisstuff