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smilesrobotlover · 2 months

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Warning, this is a pretty dark one towards the end. A lil spooky if you will

Chapter 5- Something’s in Faron Woods

Zelda was exhausted. With the new problem of disappearances, her workload doubled. She was getting several letters from people claiming that they knew who was causing these disappearances, or people who claimed that they got caught and escaped. She was then dealing with the economy of Hyrule, then their relationship with Labrynna, then schoolwork for her daughter, and then trying to provide for the army. She’d barely gotten any sleep, but she supposed it would be fine. She’s had sleepless nights before, this would be no different.

She was eternally grateful for the resistance’s help, since she couldn’t do much on her own with the disappearances. She sent Ashei and Shad to help Hoz on his investigation, she requested Auru to ask around since he couldn’t do much in his old age, and she sent Rusl and Link to investigate Kakariko, knowing that Link’s wolf abilities would be useful. And she requested this all under her alter ego: Sheik.

She remembers when she first disguised herself as Sheik and went to help the resistance. They were dealing with straggling Bulblins who rebelled against their king. Sheik showed up to assist, and the resistance were rightfully distrusting towards her. It was difficult since Sheik wasn’t exactly a bubbly and kind person, but after a few years with her giving them correct information on situations, they started to trust her more, and she was grateful for that. It was nice doing more for Hyrule that she wouldn’t be able to do as queen, but it had made her twice as busy, and she almost had no time to do anything. Even spending time with her own daughter was severely limited, and even though she wished she could do more with her, she just didn’t have time. And she wasn’t willing to give some of her workload to Edmund.

They’d known each other since they were kids. her father was attempting to have an alliance with Labrynna and they saw each other often. They had a good enough relationship then, Edmund was very polite and kind, and even when they reunited he still was, but she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. He was never outwardly terrible, but she knew that if she gave him even an ounce of power, he would take it all and control Hyrule. She’d seen it with her father, she’d seen it with Zant, and she’d seen it with Ganondorf. All kings taking power from queens, why would Edmund be any different?

Despite her refusal to let him help her, she was exhausted, and sometimes she wished she could get help, but until she found more people she could trust, she would have to make do. Of course, it wasn’t easy to hide how she was feeling from everyone, and when she nearly fell asleep during a boring meeting, they all grew concerned for her well-being.

“My queen?” The representative for the Zora spoke up when she nearly fell over on the table, and she rubbed her face, sitting up straight.

“I’m alright,” she said quickly, and she glanced over at Edmund who stared at her with his brows pinched together.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired is all, we all get like that,” she waved their concerns away and looked down at the papers in front of her. She honestly didn’t remember what was being discussed, but she quickly skimmed over the details and caught up as much as she could. As soon as the meeting was over, she got up and left, with Edmund trailing behind her.

“Zelda?” He called out for her, and she groaned, turning around to look at him.

“Yes?”

Edmund let out a huff and put his hands on his hips. “What have you been doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You look awful. You’re rarely eating, I hardly ever see you, and you’re never in bed when you’re supposed to be.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep with you,” she said coldly, but instantly regretted it. That was an inappropriate thing to say, and a hurt expression flickered across Edmund’s face. He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, frustration apparent in his face.

“Goddesses, Zelda. I— I didn’t want this arranged marriage either, but I’m trying to make it work for our kingdom’s sakes! It’s been ten years, why can’t you do the same?”

Zelda faced him fully and looked down, biting her lip. “I… I apologize for that comment, Edmund. It was rude of me.”

Edmund’s glare softened slightly. “So, what’s going on? Is it the disappearances?”

Zelda pursed her lips. “It’s fine Edmund–”

“No, it’s not fine. You’re clearly overworking yourself.”

Zelda turned away and let out a frustrated sigh, spotting the nobles and representatives getting closer to them. She grabbed Edmund’s arm and led him away to somewhere more private.

“It’s fine Edmund,” she reassured when they were tucked away in a corner, “these disappearances have been a lot of work to deal with, but it will pass. Besides, I have help from friends and Hoz to get to the bottom of this.”

Edmund stared at her for a moment, his brow pinched together. “Ok, so you have help,” he finally said after a moment of contemplation, “why don’t you let me handle the next meeting so you can… I don’t know… get some rest.”

Zelda’s heart spiked and she shook her head. “No, I do not need help.”

“Oh, so you’ll get help from Hoz and friends that I’ve never heard of before, but not from me, your husband?” Edmund’s voice raised a little, and Zelda sucked in a breath.

“It’s not your responsibility—“

“Yes it is! We’re supposed to have a partnership! We’re supposed to work together to keep our kingdom allies! That is why we got married! Why can’t you trust me?”

“Maybe it’s because you have no respect for my kingdom! Maybe it’s because you berate and criticize my people and my army! Why would I let someone who hates my kingdom try to rule it?” Zelda snapped. Edmund stared at her, surprised at her angry tone. She always spoke in a controlled tone, never letting her anger get the best of her since it was improper. Zelda took a deep breath and quickly composed herself, not wanting to escalate the conversation anymore. “Edmund, can we discuss this later? I have a meeting to attend to.”

“That’s what you say everytime I try to talk to you about it,” Edmund scoffed.

“Well I don’t have time.”

Edmund was about to say something, but he glanced up behind Zelda and his glare softened.

“Amber!” He greeted, and Zelda turned around to see her daughter walking towards them.

“Hello, mother and father,” she said when she walked up to them, her hands clasped in front of her. “I finished my studies and I wanted to catch you when the meeting ended!”

Edmund gave Zelda a look and he relaxed his posture. “Well, you caught us in time, my dear.”

Amber grinned at Edmund and gave a small curtsy to Zelda. Zelda nodded her head and forced a smile. The two stared at each other awkwardly, and Zelda looked down.

“I’m glad to see you, Amber,” she finally said, and forced another smile. “I take it your studies are going well?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Right…”

Zelda looked away and Edmund sighed.

“Why don’t you tell your mother what you’ve been studying, Amber?” He encouraged, and Amber’s eyes lit up. Zelda cringed internally, wanting so badly to stay and listen to her daughter, but she simply had no time…

“Well, I’ve been studying the founding of Hyrule, and I find it quite fascinating! I read that Hylians descended from the sky and made land here, creating alliances with the many species already living here. I just can’t imagine living in the sky! I heard that they flew on birds! Big birds that they would ride on and–”

“Amber,” Zelda cut in, forcing another smile, “I think it’s wonderful that you’re interested in history. I have a meeting I must attend, but you continue on with your studies.”

Amber’s expression fell which made Zelda’s heart twist in pain, and she looked down. “Of course, mother, sorry to keep you.”

Zelda couldn’t force another smile, and she simply walked away, trying to ignore the guilt creeping up on her. Goddesses she wanted to stay, she wanted to stay and to talk with her daughter. She wanted to ignore the meetings and to actually rest her eyes. But she couldn’t, there was too much to do, and she didn’t have the time.

Zelda couldn’t help but glance at the two when she turned the corner. Amber was still facing away, but Edmund was staring at her, and where she expected anger, there was nothing but sadness in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link watched the field around him carefully, sticking closer to Rusl this time around. Kori was no longer riding with him, and was inside the cart playing with his new toy, meanwhile Colin sat behind him on Epona. Talo was riding his own horse on the other side of the cart, grateful to no longer be alone on the trip back home. Link was also glad that they were with Talo as well, learning more about the strange disappearances have gotten him nervous. Rusl tried to make sense of it all, explaining how the scent probably got messed up, but Link supposed he couldn’t truly understand how bizarre the whole thing was. The scent wasn’t replaced, nor was it lost, it just vanished. The fact that he didn’t know why this was happening, or where to continue looking, chilled him to the bone, and he was anxious to get back to Ordon and out of the open field. Colin picked up on his nervous energy, and he rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Link?” His younger brother asked, and Link shrugged.

“I dunno, I just don’t like the open field,” he answered simply.

“I heard you and pa were investigating some disappearances, anything going on with that?”

Link sighed. “I don’t know, I tried to follow the missing people’s scent and I found nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing. The scent just ends. Pa thinks that the scent was replaced or lost but… I honestly don’t think that’s the case,” he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath.

“What do you think the case is?”

“I’m not sure, the only explanation is that the people got taken to… a different world or something,” Link felt the heat creep up to his cheeks as he said it outloud. The idea of different worlds wasn’t far-fetched to him, the temple of time literally took him through time to when the temple stood tall and proud, and the twilight realm was a world he could never forget. But to get to these places were nearly impossible, especially the twilight realm, so the idea that these people somehow getting taken to anywhere like that was ridiculous to him. Colin only hummed.

“You sure they’re not dead?”

“I’m sure Colin, I would’ve smelled it. Once we get home I’m gonna try to look further into it.” By the goddesses he was not going to let something like this continue. He was the hero for Din’s sake, he still had a responsibility to Hyrule. Link glanced over at the carriage to see Kori and Rela poking their heads out from the carriage, smiling at the nature in front of them. A protective feeling surrounded him as he watched them. He was going to make sure that his family, especially Kori, were never going to experience a dangerous Hyrule ever again.

They reached Ordon when the sun began to set, and everyone let out a sigh of relief as they got off their steeds or out of the cart.

“By the goddesses, it’s nice not being attacked every five seconds in the field,” Talo commented, stretching his arms after he got off his horse. Beth and Colin cheered in response as Link led Epona to his home, patting her neck and giving her a treat. Kori ran up to him and patted Epona’s snout.

“Thanks for getting us here, girl!” He said, and Epona lowered her head to nuzzle his chest, which Kori giggled at. Link smiled at the two and left them alone together as he went to help Rusl with unloading the cart. The kids stayed back talking and playing with the horses while Link and Rusl went to their home. When they opened the door, Uli set down her sewing project from the couch and met them at the door in seconds.

“You’re home!” She cheered, and gave Rusl and Link a hug. Rusl chuckled and pecked her on the lips.

“Hello, darlin’,” he said when he pulled away, and the two smiled at each other for a moment.

“How was it? How’s Renado?” She asked as they pulled away to put their stuff down.

“It was fine,” Link answered, plopping down on the couch. “Renado seems pretty overwhelmed, but otherwise it was ok.”

“What did Kori get?”

“A stuffed cat he named Jasper,” Link answered, stretching his arms above his head. Uli tilted her head and crossed her arms.

“A stuffed cat? If I had known that he wanted a stuffed cat, I would’ve made him one!”

“Yeah, kids are weird like that,” Link said with a chuckle, rubbing his eyes. “The moment they see somethin’ they want at the store, they ask for it even though you can make it at home.”

“It’s more special from a shop!” Rusl chimed in, leaning near the fireplace. Uli raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Are you saying that if I made it, it wouldn’t be special?”

Rusl’s eyes went big and he turned away. “Of course not… that’s… you know what I meant!”

Uli gave a quick laugh. “I know what you meant darlin’, I’m just messing with you.” Rusl glared at her and she simply giggled teasingly at him. She turned to Link and her teasing manner dropped slightly. “Well, I heard you two were investigating some…. Disappearances,” she started, “were you able to find anything?”

Link looked at Rusl and shrugged. “Not really.”

“We didn’t find anything useful at least,” Rusl added quietly. Uli frowned.

“Are you going to continue investigating?”

“Well, I kinda have to. Kori wants everyone to return home safely for his birthday,” Link said with a small smile on his lips. Uli grinned and ruffled his hair.

“He’s a sweet boy. He reminds me of a certain someone.”

Link looked down bashfully and rolled his eyes as Uli began to dote on him. Kori was a sweet boy. So gentle and kind, despite being a little mischievous at times. He couldn’t take all the credit for it of course, or really any of it. Midna raised him by herself for his first two years of life, and even though she's not with them all the time, she’s impacted his life in more ways than one. Goddesses he missed her. He wanted to tell her everything about Kakariko, he wanted her advice, her comments, her support. He just wanted her here…

Uli clasped her hands together and sighed after a moment of silence. “Well, where are the kids?”

“Dealin’ with the horses. I think they’re a little stir crazy.”

Uli smiled and gestured at the fireplace. “I have some soup cooking if you wanna drag our little ones over here?”

The smell of the soup cooking above the fireplace hit his nostrils, and he wiped some drool that suddenly appeared on his chin. Uli let out a hearty laugh and ruffled his hair.

“I’ll go get them ma,” Link chuckled, slightly embarrassed, and jogged out the door to find Colin, Rela, and Kori.

The three were excited for the hot dinner when Link told them, and they quickly put their things away as the sun set behind the horizon. Kori wasted no time showing Jasper the cat to Uli, explaining the complex backstory he gave to the plush, and how it connected to Billy the goat’s backstory. Uli listened intently, and Link let out a laugh. He always talked her ear off, but she always listened. Link wondered if he was the same way when he was younger.

“So, I take it Midna didn’t go with you?” Uli asked when Kori finished his story. Link shook his head.

“No, she had other stuff she needed to do back home.”

“What does she do anyways?” Colin asked, his spoon full of soup inches away from his mouth. Link shrugged.

“Stuff.”

“You always say that,” he said, sipping the soup from the spoon. Link shrugged again.

“Y’all weren’t supposed to know about her existence anyways. If she wants to tell you what she does, then she will. It’s not my business to tell you.”

“Fair ‘nough.”

“Well,” Uli started, standing up, “I already ate, but I can dish up some food for the rest of you.”

“Nah, I got two strong arms, I can do it myself,” Rusl said with a smile, grabbing a bowl and hunching over the pot.

“Nonsense! You’ve been traveling all day,” Uli began to argue, and the couple began to fight over the soup. Colin and Link exchanged a look and smirked as Kori and Rela jogged over to the fireplace, trying to break up the battle for service between the two lovers. When Uli finally admitted defeat, Link got up to the pot to serve himself and Kori, smiling at his ma who returned to her sewing project. But as he began to walk across the room, he stopped, his ears twitching. There was a sound, it was distant, and out in the woods, but as it got closer, the sound became more apparent.

Screaming.

Soon it got loud enough for Uli to hear it too, and they both looked at each other in fear. Kori stared at the two, hearing it as well.

“What is that?” He asked, and the whole family grew quiet, hearing the sudden screaming. Rusl got up, grabbing his sword and gestured for Link to follow him.

“Stay here,” Rusl said to Colin and Uli, who were about to follow him. Uli walked towards the kids while Colin reluctantly stayed by the doorway, and the two swordsmen marched out of the house. As they got closer, Link was able to spot three figures huddled together. He recognized mayor Bo’s large frame next to Jaggle, who was consoling a hysterical Coro. Bo looked up as the two men got closer, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the spirits,” he said, stepping away. “I was just about to come and get you two.”

“What’s happenin’ here?” Rusl asked, staring at Coro who looked to be a mess. “Why were you screaming?”

Coro raised his head and stared at the two. “S-something’s out in the woods!” His voice shook as he said it, and he was shaking in fear.

Link frowned, feeling dread and fear creep up on him. “What was it?”

“I– I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Rusl rested a hand on Coro’s shoulder and kneeled down. “Take some deep breaths for me, ok? Think about what you saw and try to explain it to us.”

Coro swallowed and took a deep breath. “Ok, you are all gonna think that I’m insane, but I promise I’m not! I know these woods, I’ve seen all sorts of plants and animals! But I was putting my things away f-for the night, and I heard somethin’ behind me and… I saw a black creature staring at me!” Coro wailed and buried his face in his hands, and Rusl gave Link a look. “It tried to kill me! I swear!”

“Did you have a light to see this… black creature?” Jaggle asked skeptically, and Coro gave him a glare.

“I didn’t hallucinate it if that’s what you’re implying! Trill saw it too!”

As if on cue, Coro’s bird, Trill poked out from his hair, staring at the men. Link expected him to begin chatting, but he was uncharacteristically silent as the men observed the bird.

“Can you… Uh… describe the creature again?” Jaggle asked, and Coro let out a frustrated huff.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was a big, black creature with long arms! It almost swiped at me but I didn’t wait around! I thought something was off about the forest, Trill came to me a few days before talking about a bear, so I-I thought that he just got spooked! There hasn’t been a bear in these parts in ages so I assumed he saw a wolf! There’s been wolves around here right? But this wasn’t a bear, I don’t know what it was but it was no bear!”

Rusl, Jaggle, and Link all glanced at each other as Coro continued to ramble, and Rusl scratched the back of his head. “Sounds like you had a scare, Coro. But let’s think about this, it could’ve been a tree or something. They look scary at night, right?”

“Trees don’t try to swipe at you!” Coro yelled.

Jaggle glanced at Rusl and sighed. “You can stay with us if it makes you feel safe, we’ll be sure that the gate is locked extra tight, but–”

“No! You need to find that thing, now!” Coro grabbed Rusl and shook him slightly. “A gate won’t stop it if it found us! It’s too big! Don’t you remember what happened ten years ago? When a green monster burst through the gates and stole all the kids?”

Rusl’s expression grew dark, and Jaggle pulled Coro away.

“Now you need to calm down!” He yelled. “It’s gettin’ late, and it’s too dangerous to go out at night, we’ll hunt down whatever it was you saw tomorrow—“

“Jaggle,” Mayor Bo interrupted him, staring at the entrance, “perhaps we should find whatever Coro saw.”

“What? Bo are you crazy?”

“I don’t want anything attacking us at night when we’re most vulnerable,” Bo explained, his hands raised defensively. “We at least need to be prepared for something!”

Jaggle opened his mouth to say something but Rusl stepped up. “He’s right, it’s not dark yet, me and Link will check it out, the rest of you will make sure nothing happens to Ordon.” Link looked at his father in shock, but he avoided his gaze. “We’ll find whatever scared you, I don’t want anything to attack us at night either.”

Coro looked relieved and nodded. “Thanks, sorry to bother you folks–”

“It’s fine,” Rusl waved his apology away, “me and Link will investigate, Colin, Talon, and Beth will look after the village in the meantime, if it ain’t a bother.”

Jaggle let out a loud sigh and shrugged. “Don’t think Talo would be bothered at all.”

“Good. There’s still some sun left, once it gets too dark, me and Link will return, ok?”

Jaggle seemed more comfortable with that and nodded. Rusl nodded back and turned to head back to the house, with Link reluctantly following.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, pa?” Link asked softly as Bo led Coro to his home. “We don’t have a lot of time before it gets too dark.”

“We’ll be fine, Link. I take it it’s nothin’ serious,” Rusl said, but he didn’t seem too confident in his own words. “Besides, if something is out there, I don’t want– I don’t want another attack on Ordon.” Rusl’s voice grew quiet, but he didn’t turn to look at Link.

Link pursed his lips, but said nothing. When the two reached the house, Rusl quickly explained the situation to Uli and Colin. Uli protested against it while Colin grabbed a sword, determined to protect the village. With enough reassurance that they were going to be ok, the two bid their farewells, collected their swords and torches, and headed into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The forest was quiet save for the rustling of the leaves as they blew through the wind. The moon was full, which thankfully gave him and Rusl more light to work with. The sky was a deep purple, making the forest much darker than what Link would like. Sure there was some sunlight, but it wasn’t enough to investigate. It was uncomfortably silent between Link and Rusl, both listening intently to whatever could be out here. Link’s eyes were darting back and forth, his heart beating against his chest as they got closer to Coro’s house. He’s never liked the dark, but after the twilight invasion, he’s grown to hate it. Anything could be hiding in the shadows, watching him and his father as they walked by. It made his hair stand on its ends. Rusl seemed to be more relaxed than him though, a determined look on his face as he observed the trees illuminated by his torch and moon. When they reached Coro’s house, Link lowered his breathing to hear whatever it was Coro saw. His sword was raised in front of him while Rusl looked around the house. The silence was deafening, and the night air sent a chill up Link’s spine. He studied the ground around the house for a moment before looking at Rusl, who put a hand on his hip and sighed.

“Do you see anything?” He asked, and Link shook his head.

“I haven’t seen anything unusual, but something isn’t right.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I—I don’t know, something in the air isn’t right.” Link pursed his lips as he watched the trees around them. There was a good chance that he was just spooked, but the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave him. Rusl clicked his tongue as his head turned behind him.

“What do you think Coro saw?”

Link shrugged. If it was anyone else he wouldn’t be so worried, but it was Coro that got scared. He wasn’t scared of anything. Even when he saw Link as a wolf he seemed calm, even when monsters were right outside his home he didn’t care much. The only time Link has seen Coro frightened was during the twilight invasion, when shadow insects were crawling all over his home. A sinking feeling rested within his stomach as he thought about the missing people, but he shook his head. There was no way that there was another twilight invasion. The only Twili that were left in the world was Midna, and how she was able to be in this world was a mystery to him. No, it had to be an animal or a tree or something. Coro wasn’t afraid of anything, but everyone gets spooked every now and then.

“He probably saw a bear,” Rusl said softly, his brows pinched together.

“If it was a bear, then we should head back and hunt it tomorrow. It’s too dangerous to be out here at night.” Bears were rare in Ordon, but they showed up occasionally, and Link had heard too many horror stories from Rusl about them that he knew that they were a serious threat. But regardless, the idea of Coro seeing a bear scared Link less than any alternative. Rusl pursed his lips and stared at the ground.

“I’m not seeing any footprints though,” he muttered, kneeling on the ground and tracing his hand across the ground.

Link looked over his shoulder, the sudden feeling of dread overwhelming him as he stared at the darkness. Something was out in Faron woods, something dark and evil.

“Pa, we should go,” he said, trying to keep his voice from quivering. “We can lock the gates and look for it tomorrow, but we’re at a disadvantage here.”

“I know, Link. But it’s not too dark yet.”

“It’s dark enough for this to be dangerous!”

Rusl stared at the ground blankly for a moment, before looking up at Link. “You think he saw something out in these woods?” Rusl asked, and Link tilted his head.

“You don’t believe him?”

“I-I’m not sure. I’m not seein’ any footprints or anything around here. Nothing was by his house, I think he saw the shadow of a tree or something, but… I don’t want to take any chances.”

Link frowned as Rusl went back to staring at the ground. He didn’t want to risk a potentially dangerous monster attacking Ordon either, but Link knew that they wouldn’t last against a black creature at night. He looked behind him at the entrance to Ordon, shifting his feet nervously as he felt eyes on him from all sides. Rusl picked up on his nervous energy, and he stood up, eyeing the house.

“I’m just gonna look around some more, then we’ll head back, ok?”

Link nodded and watched as his father marched to Coro’s home. He lingered near the trees, watching them intently as if something would grab him. It was silent for too long, and he occasionally glanced over his shoulder to check on his pa, who was barely visible from the torch he was carrying. It was getting too dark, his patience was wearing thin, and his anxiety gnawed at his insides. He couldn’t wait out here any longer, they needed to head back now.

A snap of a twig caused Link to jump ten feet in the air, and he had his sword drawn out defensively in front of him as he glared at the darkness in front of him. His heart beat furiously against his chest as he strained his eyes to see what was lurking in the dark.

Was it a monster? A bulblin? A lost traveler? Several possibilities ran through his head as he searched the woods in front of him, fear nearly paralyzing him so much he couldn’t even speak. Another sound was heard, along with rustling, and something dark emerged into the light Link’s lantern emitted. Link jumped, yelling out as soon as he saw it, and when it was fully in the light, Link saw that the creature that spooked him so badly was a fuzzy rabbit, staring at him as its nose twitched. Link stared in shock, his breathing quick and his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Link?” Rusl called out worriedly, and Link heard his pa jogging towards him.

“I—it’s— a r—“ Link let out a sigh of relief as the rabbit hopped away, and he started giggling. Loud.

“Uh, Link?” Rusl sounded much more concerned as Link doubled over laughing.

“I—it’s a rabbit— a rabbit,” Link wheezed out between giggles, and Rusl raised an eyebrow.

“Ok…?” Rusl gave him one more look before returning to the house, his head shaking in confusion. Link let out a breath and stared at the ground lit up by his lantern, feeling slightly more relaxed. He picked up his lantern and stood up, but as he got on his feet, the light moved further into the darkness, and that was when he saw it.

A black hand, clearly human shaped, standing out in the lit up grass. It quickly disappeared into the darkness, but Link was able to see it. He felt his blood run cold as he shot up, his sword shaking in his trembling hands, the relief gone in an instant. Did he imagine that?

The feeling of dread began to overwhelm him, and he spun around to his father.

“Pa—“ he was interrupted by a familiar shriek. A shriek that paralyzed him to the bone. His body trembled as his heart beat so hard against his chest it felt as though it would burst. His senses were clouded, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t feel. All he knew was fear. Until the strong paralysis went away.

Link gasped as he was able to move again. His head felt light, his heart continued to race, but he felt conscious again. He looked around, shocked that he himself was left untouched. His lantern was left on the ground, standing upright, still emitting light enough for Link to see. The sky was black now, the moon emitting barely enough light for Link to see beyond the lantern. He shakily picked it up and looked around him, his heart sinking into his stomach as realization hit him.

Rusl.

The other light that came from Rusl’s torch was put out, and Link’s father was nowhere to be seen.

“P-pa?” Link called out weakly, tears pricking at his eyes when he was met with silence. He ran to Coro’s house and searched the ground, but there was no sign of Rusl, all except his torch which was laying on the ground. Link wasted no time turning into a wolf and sniffing the torch, but he was only met with the eye watering scent of smoke and fire. Goddesses, how could he find him?

Link noticed some scuff marks on the ground, and he saw the footprints. They weren’t human, there were no toes and they were much too small, but he knew that whatever they belonged to, it was what took Rusl. Link took off running, using his wolf senses to see in the dark. The footprints went into the dark caves, and Link plowed through, luckily remembering where to go from traveling through them hundreds of times. He ignored the rats and keese that tried to hurt him, and he emerged from the other side. At the end of the cave, Link spotted something glimmering in the moonlight. Rusl’s sword. Thank the spirits.

With no smoke to cloud his senses, Link was able to pick up on Rusl’s sent. It led deeper into Faron woods, through the thick trees that used to hold poisonous gas. Link sprinted through, the feeling of deja vu of hunting down the missing tailor and Goron making him more and more anxious.

Please don’t be too late.

Link was so focused on running that he barely noticed that he actually passed the scent, and he skidded to a stop, spinning to where the scent stopped. The scent didn’t seem to end abruptly the same way the tailor and goron’s did thankfully, but the feeling of dread kept any feeling of relief shining through. The creature was here, and it was watching him.

Link growled at the darkness in front of him, and he heard something shuffling. A dark mass silhouetted by the moon revealed itself, growing more and more until it stood up straight, and Link felt his heart drop.

It was a shadow beast, but it was different. Its skin was black as the night, blending into the dark trees around it, all except the red Twili mark on its chest. Black tendrils jutted out of its body, mostly from its head. Two arms were laid awkwardly on its back, instead of a mask there was a mouth that snarled at him with yellow teeth, and it was huge. Bigger than any shadow beast Link had seen. How…?

The creature snarled and rested on its two front arms, the arms on its back hanging menacingly. Link’s growl got more low, his fear replaced by fury. This thing did something to Rusl, and he was going to make it pay.

A hand suddenly swiped at his side, and Link was barely able to move before it hit him. He barked and jumped at the beast, biting into its shoulder as hard as he could. The beast shrieked and threw Link off of it, slamming him into a tree. Link sucked in a breath, scrambling to his feet as his back ached from the impact. He shook his head and snarled at the beast. It snarled back. He moved back and forth, trying to figure out where to begin on fighting this thing. If it was similar to a shadow beast, then fighting it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Link charged at it again, sinking his teeth into the shoulder of the beast. It let out a cry, but Link continued biting, ripping it apart with his claws and fangs. Eventually he was thrown off again, but before the beast had time to recover, Link jumped at it again, this time aiming for the stomach. Link went much deeper into the soft flesh of the torso, and he was able to rip a good chunk of it out. The creature shrieked in pain as it slammed its fist down onto Link, but he dodged just in time. The beast hunched over, holding its stomach in pain as black goo fell out. Though this creature was much bigger and stronger than a shadow beast, it was simply too easy to fight.

Link went to charge again but the beast made a strange noise that stopped him in his tracks. It stayed on all fours, hunched over, gagging. Link could only watch as it gagged, his confusion holding him in place. He only came back to reality when the beast began to vomit, and soon he saw a hand flailing around from its mouth. Rusl!

Link quickly turned back into a Hylian, reaching out for the hand. He felt relief when Rusl’s hand quickly gripped to his own, meaning that Rusl was still alive and conscious, and Link pulled with all his might. The beast remained still as Rusl was slowly pulled out, and Link’s father let out a gasp as his face emerged from the mouth.

“Pa!” Link yelled out, and Rusl struggled to pull his other arm free from the throat of the beast. His face was covered in the black goo that poured out of its stomach, covering his eyes and hair. As Link pulled him out more, he noticed the teeth of the beast ripping up his clothes, but he didn’t stop pulling.

Rusl’s other arm was pulled free, and it flailed towards Link’s arm, and he weakly hung on as he was pulled out the rest of the way. But just as he was free, the beast suddenly bit down on Rusl’s leg, and Link gasped as Rusl’s grip went limp and he was pulled away from him.

“PA!” Link screamed as he was dragged away, and the beast snarled at him, leering over Rusl as if he was its prize. It scooped up his pa in one of the hands on its back and it took off running, deeper into the woods. Link cursed under his breath and turned into a wolf again, ignoring the pain that shot through as he transformed. He took off running, following the beast through a gate to where Coro’s bird’s shop was. Link pumped his canine legs, and was able to catch up to the beast and Rusl. When he was close enough, he bit down on its leg, attempting to drag it to the ground. The creature shrieked and spun around, ripping its leg from Link’s mouth. The beast snarled at him as Rusl hung limply in its hand, blood and black goo dripping down his feet and hair. Link barked at him, but he didn’t move. The beast backed away from Link as he tried to wake his pa up, its back arching like an agitated cat as it growled at him.

Link made sure he was merciless this time around. He attacked relentlessly, aiming for the arms resting on its back, trying to get it to drop Rusl, but its grip was tight around his father, so it never let him go no matter how hard Link bit into its arms. The beast smacked Link a few times as he attacked the arms, but he fought through the pain, fiercely biting and scratching the beast. Link had severely underestimated this creature, with it not giving out anytime soon. Shadow beasts normally would die after having their throats ripped out or being clawed to death, but it seemed that this thing was invincible. He didn’t know why, but it was stronger than any Twili creature he’s ever fought.

Link was smacked against a tree again, and he staggered slightly as he got on his feet. He was growing exhausted, he felt like he was doing the same thing over and over again to no avail. Though he’d just ripped part of its stomach out, it didn’t seem to be bothered by it. What was this thing?

The creature snarled at him again, having a more confident pose as it faced Link, and all he could do was growl at the thing. He didn’t care what happened to him, he just needed to make sure Rusl was safe. The beast charged at him, and Link braced himself, but it suddenly stopped, shrinking back into the shadows, making strange noises that sounded like pain. It looked up at the sky and to Link’s surprise, it dropped Rusl and sprinted away, leaving Link alone with his father. He quickly turned back into a Hylian, staggering at the sharp pain in his back, but he stood up, pulling out his sword. He ran to Rusl, standing over his father protectively in case it returned, but it did not.

Why did the thing run away? It was winning, it wouldn’t have dropped Rusl like that. The sun rising in the sky answered Link’s question, and soon the forest was lit up. Relief swept over him as he was able to see, and he knew he was safe. For now at least. It seemed that the—Twili beast— hated the light.

Link relaxed and put his sword away, exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t rest, not yet. He looked at his father who was still unconscious, and he turned him over. His entire body was covered in black goo, and some of it mixed in with blood from small cuts on his skin, possibly from the creature’s teeth. His leg looked the worst, with a bite mark circling around his calf and shin. It had stopped bleeding it seemed, but dried blood mixed with black goo made it look much worse. Rusl was breathing, though it was shallow and sounded wrong. Link hoped that his ribs weren’t bruised or broken, he wondered how tight that thing held onto him. Link took a deep breath and shook him gently, brushing his clumpy hair out of his eyes.

“P-pa?” He whispered, shaking him a little harder. Rusl seemed to be reacting to being shaken, so Link tried harder. He needed medical attention, and his mind thought of the spirit springs. He remembered fairies appeared at each one after he faced a trial from the great fairy, he wondered if they were still there. “Pa,” he repeated, a little louder. Rusl’s blue eyes began to flutter open, and he stared at Link confused.

“L-Link?” He croaked.

Link smiled a relieved smile and started to help him to his feet, but Rusl stopped him quickly, hissing in pain as he held his side.

“Somethings wrong,” he rasped, sinking into the ground. Link frowned and looked him over. His ribs must’ve been broken.

“C’mon, pa. We gotta get to the spring. You’ll feel better.”

Rusl stared at him, wheezing and holding his side painfully, but he didn’t stop Link from helping him to his feet. Rusl leaned heavily on Link’s side, and the two slowly walked to the spring. It felt like hours until they finally made it, at some point Link had to pick up his pa to carry him the rest of the way, despite his protests. He set him down in the spring water, immediately feeling comfort in the warm water. Rusl let out a sigh of relief as he rested in the water, but the relief melted into panic as he looked at himself.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Link asked, calming down his father.

“‘Don’t want to dirty the spring.”

“You’re not gonna dirty the spring, the spirit’s light keeps it clean,” at least he assumed, the water never seemed to get dirty no matter what was put in it. Rusl relaxed again and stared at himself, his brows furrowed. Link began washing the goo and blood off of himself, helping Rusl occasionally. Rusl was uncomfortably silent while the two cleaned themselves off, and Link wanted to bring up what had happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it either. After Link finished washing out his wounds, he stood up, limping towards the bushes to see if any fairies were hiding. Luckily he found two and he returned with them both, noticing Rusl staring at him with his brows furrowed.

“Some fairies,” Link said, handing them both to him.

Rusl silently opened his palm where one fluttered onto his hand, and it healed up his bleeding leg and bruised ribs. He let out a sigh of relief and stared at Link who still held the other one.

“You need another one, pa,” Link pressed, but Rusl shook his head.

“You’re hurt too.”

“Not as bad as you.”

“I don’t care, my leg is healed, you use it.”

Link was taken aback at his intense tone, but he was too tired to fight back. He held the fairy gently in his hand and it floated around him, healing up his aching back. It rested on his head when it finished healing him, and Link let out a sigh of relief. Fairies were wonderful creatures.

The two sat in silence, staring at the crystal blue water they were in, soaking in the sun as it rose higher and higher in the sky. It didn’t feel like they were gone all night, but with Link’s tired body, he supposed it made sense.

“Link,” Rusl broke the silence, continuing to stare blankly at the water. “We need to tell the resistance about this as soon as possible.” Link stared at him for a moment, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Rusl continued. “That… thing… it has to be responsible for the disappearances. We need to tell them about this.”

Link nodded. “We oughta tell them when we all meet up then—“

“I’m not waiting until the date Sheik set, we need to tell them now.”

Link stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, ok, I agree. I’ll send a letter, then we can move out tomorrow.”

“Link—“

“We move out tomorrow, pa. We need rest though, we’ve been up all night. Besides, we gotta tell the folks around Ordon to stay away from Faron at night, ok?”

Rusl glared at him for a moment, but it softened when he had no rebuttal. “Yeah, ok. We need rest.”

Link nodded. He was no stranger to staying up all night, but as he’s gotten older, it’s been much harder to deal with. He stood up, his legs feeling weak as he walked around, and Rusl followed, being careful on his newly healed leg. Link stared at his leg for a moment, then faced him.

“Are… are you alright?”

Rusl stopped walking and looked up at him. “I’m… fine. Thanks to you. Are you ok?”

Link pursed his lips and nodded. “I’ll be fine, pa.”

Rusl’s gaze softened and he wrapped his arm around Link’s shoulder. “Let’s head back then. I bet everyone is worried sick.”

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sinnbaddie · 19 days

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Naruto has a multitude of characters where their writing is heavily based in queerness and queer experiences. From the devotion two characters have for one another to a point where they would trust each other with their lives, to feeling like the other one is the only person who truly to their core understands them and accepts them for who they are despite their flaws and issues they’ve done in the past.

Naruto as a series is so queer in its writing that the writer - whether intentional or not - made the main two characters always run after each other even if one of them fell into darkness, saying he’d shoulder the pain he’s holding just so he can be near him and you’re saying you think… Obito is gay?? The guy who literally lost his mind over a girl??

Edit: I’m talking about canon btw. Hc if you’d like I’ll always support that, but he’s not canonically gay or bi. His character is rooted in his love for a girl and the only reason he saved kk was to have time alone w Rin because he didn’t want him interfering. He’s in love w Rin and only Rin in canon🙇‍♂️

#Obito Uchiha #anti obkk #anti obikaka #Sasuke Uchiha #naruto uzumaki #hashirama senju #madara uchiha #Maito Gai #rin nohara #kisame hoshigaki #Itachi Uchiha #sasunaru #sns #we have lost the plot #Obito wouldn’t kiss a man even if his life depended on it #out of ALL of the characters ALL of them… it’s him??#I just don’t understand how you can see his spiraling beginning with Rin’s death #and then say he’s absolutely in love w kk…#I’m not saying you can’t enjoy the aus or the fanfics #what I’m saying is y’all who say it’s CANON that he’s in love w him are stupid #there’s just no way y’all read this shit w your eyes closed…#please don’t debate me about this idc I just wanted to share some thoughts on my blog #and I know I’m right. Obito would choose Rin over kk any day and y’all are maaaad #sins posting

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happyk44 · 2 months

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Bianca and Nico used to switch clothes as kids because Bianca liked pants when she was playing (no scuffed knees!) and Nico liked twirling around and making the skirt swish swish.

Hazel looking through old photos of Nico and Bianca that Hades saved, then popping off to the nearest shop to put something together, showing up hours later in front of the Hades cabin in a pressed suit that's just a little on the big side. Her hair is slicked back into a low bun, scrunchie making some threats beneath her hat.

Nico leans against the doorframe. "You look interesting."

She hands him a dress bag. "Get dressed, doll. I'm taking you out on the town."

With an amused grin, he takes the bag. "Does this surprise come with the right jewelry?" He gestures to his hole-worn, bedhead, sleepless form. "A girl's gotta look right in mixed company, you know."

She snorts and pulls out a silk bag. "Would I ever do you wrong, kitten?"

He rolls his eyes but disappears back into the dark of the cabin. It's a few minutes before he remerges, shadowy tendrils clingy to his neck as the wisp and weave his hair into a soft braid. Most of them dispel away in the low light of the slowly setting sun.

He spins around and pulls his hair to the side. Pulling the necklace out, she clips it around his neck. The pearls look nice against his skin. His thumb slides against one.

"Oh, they're real," he murmurs.

"Of course they're real!" She looped their arms together. "I'd never let my best filly hop around with fakes." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not a crumb, Nico." She flicked his cheek. Then tugged him off to the nearest shadow. "Now let's shake a leg and go have a bang!"

#basically just me thinking about hazel and nico in 30s/40s fashion but swapped :)#i think they'd have fun. and nico would enjoy reliving an old memory and hazel would enjoy making a new one #neither of them can go back in time but they can pretend for one night that they'd been together since the beginning #hazel levesque #bianca di angelo #nico di angelo #bianca also liked wearing boy's clothes because she liked to dress like her grandpa so there's a lot of pictures of her with an unlit cigar #anyway fun part of this was reading old timey slang and seeing what still stuck around from the old days. like hot to mean stolen #happy talks pjo

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alinelie · 8 months

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sheet for kian

victor's sheet

#oc: kian micelli #ts4 #I feel the need to bring out some backstory #Kian leaves his house early because he planned to start a career in a big city and he worked hard to make that happen.#He got a position where he may be promoted after getting a degree and achieving his dream job #but he didn't enjoy it as much as he was expecting which broke him #He returned home and soon discovered that he supposed to stay there #Victor however would work in his parents' business for the rest of his life but he found it difficult to adapt to adulthood #He dropped out of college moved out with his parents and is now attempting to figure out his future steps #and they first met at this point #Kian gave himself time to work with his parents all summer before beginning looking for a job #Victor wants to begin a new life.#Before Victor’s family lived there but after several problems that include his brother they left #and now that he’s returned rumors about his family keep being spread so he needs to find a strength #oc stuff #my sims

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summershouto · 1 year

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zoro being dragged around by sanji so he doesn’t end up lost

#his brain was never on to begin with #no brain only swords #zoro #sanji #zosan #it just had their energy #the smug smile #at first zoro would be annoyed but then he starts to enjoy being dragged around bc sanji gets irritated when he walks slow #anything to piss each other off <3 #affectionately

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sophsicle · 6 months

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isn’t it ironic that the only fic where our favorite characters (our darlings) were safe from you killing them off is the one called kill your darlings

(also i’m really excited for the last chapter i hope you have a great halloween)

this was, in fact, intentional :)

#soph rambles #kyd #and like at the beginning when james is like #why would i get rid of the things i enjoy in my story #and regulus is like “for the art”#and james is like mkay no #basically kyd was ghost written by james potter is what im saying

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 11 months

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The Song We Are Drawn Towards; Azul Ashengrotto

A song rests in the heart, calling out to the one who completes the harmony. Their match pulls at them, as the moon does the tide.

Main Character: Azul Ashengrotto

Supporting Roles: Mama Ashengrotto, Jade Leech & Floyd Leech

Content: Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match instead), gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort but comfort is only at the end, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic and that was done on purpose, wet cat Azul, 99% genuine fic 1% crack (actual math said 0.002%)

Content Warning: mentions of injury, brief mention of divorce (Mama Ashengrotto), self-doubt/self-loathing on Azul's part, mention of an age gap but there isn't one

Word Count: 5.5 K

Author's Note: Please do not repost my works to other websites or into AI software. I may or may not write parts for other characters; if you want to be tagged for those please let me know. I am not sorry for the ending. I switch between third and second-person point of view, if that bothers you, sorry. Spell check done by Grammarly. I wrote this in like one or two days, help.

Jade's Story | Floyd's Story

Once a year, during the week of the largest full moon, merfolk are forced out of the ocean at night, their aquatic halves melting into legs. The process itself was not a pleasant one, often described as stepping on broken glass for the entire duration. This annual week-long nightly excursion typically starts the year in which the merperson turns sixteen, corresponding with the age at which the mermaid made a deal with the Sea Witch to go on land and try to be with her soul match.

Some considered it as a blessing, as a chance to find their soul match beyond the waters they knew, to find the singer of the silent song that rested in their hearts. To find the person that they felt magnetically drawn towards, no matter the distance that separated them, like that of the moon and the tides.

Others, however, viewed it as a curse, as there was a catch alongside the pain of walking. If their soul match happens to not be a merperson, one of the parties would have to leave their old life behind in order to be with the other. The surface dweller would have to trade their legs for fins, or the mer would have to trade their aquatic half for legs. Permanently. Such a steep price had some mers taking drastic measures to avoid that fate, not wanting to be forced to leave the life they knew behind or wanting their soul match to leave theirs, even if it meant they would both live their happiest years together. In the search for answers, some were able to concoct an elixir that would stop the transformation for that year. Unfortunately, there was also a drawback to it as well. If a mer were to take it for three years in a row, they would no longer be able to go on land, even with the aid of potions. They would be bound to the sea for their life. It is easy enough to avoid, but it was still tiresome.

But what of mers already living on land? What happens to them during this week?

For those mers who call the land their home, they revert back to their merform during sunlight hours, regardless of how many potions or spells they may try. They only get their legs back when the sun sets and the moon rises. It is more of an inconvenience than anything else.

And this cycle of returning to land would continue until they found their soul match, forged a bond with another, their match forged a bond with another or their match died. But they would feel when their match died the instant it happened, as the pull would stop and their inner song faded into silence. And for those who had lost their match, they were never the same again. It was considered as one of the most painful experiences a mer could live through.

Mers would be able to feel their soul match and hear their song by their sixth birthday. If they did not, it was often seen as a bad omen, as it was an extremely rare occurrence. And looks of pity and sadness were given when the child disclosed this information, but no one outside of their family would answer their questions.

… ... ...

Azul could not fall asleep, no matter how many songs his mother sang, or how many stories she told him. The little cecaelia stayed awake, his tentacles subconsciously mussing with blankets.

“Mama, what did it feel like for you?” He murmured, trying and failing to suppress a yawn, eyelids drooping. “Did it feel like the mermaid’s from the story? Can you tell me it?”

Miss Ashengrotto held onto her son’s little hand, rubbing her thumb gently across his palm. “Hm, well it felt like there was a rope tying me to someone. I couldn’t see or touch them, but I knew they were out there somewhere.” She hummed, placing a kiss on Azul’s forehead. “But it was the song,” she placed a hand on top of her heart and then placed one of her tentacles on Azul’s chest. “It sings from here, and in theirs is where the harmony is complete. It felt like…” A wistful sigh left her lips, “It felt like home. Not quite like the mermaid’s, but similar in a sense.” A soft smile graced her lips as she looked tenderly at her son. “And I met him six years ago. I met you, my little cuttlefish.”

Azul giggled at the nickname. “What about dad? I thought he was your soul match?”

“He’s not,” she frowned slightly, knowing that she would have to tell him eventually about the divorce, but not wanting him to go through what many children of divorce had to. Especially not now. “But that’s okay. We can love people who aren’t our soul matches. Plus soul matches can come in very many ways. They can be romantic, like the mermaid’s, friendships, or familial, like you and me. Some people even have more than one. For every person, there is a different kind of soul match, no two are the same.”

Azul leaned into his mother’s touch, and clung onto her side, “I love you, mama.”

“I love you most,” and she attacked his face with kisses and raspberries, making him squeal with laughter. “Now, you should really try and get some sleep, love. Tomorrow is your birthday after all!”

Azul wrapped himself into a blanket cocoon, “Okay, mama. Night night.”

Ms. Ashengrotto gave one final kiss to his forehead and turned off the light. “Sweet dreams, Azul.”

He looked towards the skylight, seeing the gentle light softly radiating from the full moon above. He wondered if they saw it too if his soul match was seeing the same beautiful moon that he was seeing now. He wondered if they felt like the warm gentle kisses of the sun's rays on skin, or perhaps the cool embrace of the moon’s light. Maybe they felt like something completely different. Azul let out a happy but nervous giggle and waved goodnight to the moon before falling into the land of dreams.

…

Azul woke up the next day, but his excitement morphed into worry and then panic. He didn’t feel the pull. He didn’t hear the song. He was supposed to wake up on his sixth birthday and feel the pull and hear his soul match’s song, but there was nothing. Nothing but silence and his own thoughts and racing heart. He buried himself back into his cocoon, tears starting to threaten to fall.

“Azul, honey?” His mother poked her head into his room and saw that he was still in his bed. “Come on, love, time to get up. I made your favourite breakfast! Azul?” Her chipper tone toned down as she heard the small sniffles, and instantly was at her son’s side, holding out her hand if he wanted to hold on to it. “I’m here if you want to talk, baby.”

Azul slowly pulled the blankets down, eyes bloodshot from crying, and a bit of ink leaking out. “It didn’t happen, mama,” his voice cracked, and he let out a little cough. “Why didn’t it happen?”

Ms. Ashengrotto wiped away some of the stray tears and gently held his face. “That…” she paused, trying to come up with something that would help him but also be true. “That happens sometimes, love. It doesn’t always happen exactly on everyone’s sixth birthday. It might mean that they aren’t here yet.”

Azul rubbed at his nose, “But Rielle said-”

“Tch, tch. Last time I checked Rielle is Rielle, and you are Azul, my sweet, smart, and charming Azul.” She placed a kiss on each cheek, earning a small giggle in return. “So ignore Rielle. It will happen eventually Azul. Besides, you’ll always have me. Now, would you like some breakfast as we wait?”

Azul grabbed onto his mother’s hand, “Maybe just a little…”

And they swam hand in hand towards the kitchen, but both of their minds and hearts weighed heavy at what this could possibly mean.

… ... ...

Azul sat at his desk in the Mostro Lounge VIP room, going over some contracts even though the new school year hadn’t even started yet. Normally, he would be more smug about the whole ordeal, but his mind was elsewhere, wandering. No matter what contract he tried to make to find his soul match, it would always lead to nothing, nothing but a bitter feeling and a restless night of sleep. Ever since he turned six all those years ago, he still hasn’t felt the magnetic pull or heard the song play in his heart that he overheard others talk excitedly about. Perhaps it was a lost cause… Perhaps he was meant to spend this lifetime alone… Perhaps he wasn’t good enough for someone despite all he has accomplished…

A familiar rapping at the door caught his attention. Pulling himself out of his rapidly tunnel-visioning thoughts, Azul dusted himself off and straightened up his appearance. There’s no use in dwelling in the past and on what-ifs, there are more important dealings at hand. “Come in.”

“Azul, the carriages have started arriving,” Jade spoke, opening the door.

Azul adjusted the hood on his robe and joined Jade in walking towards the mirror chamber in silence. Floyd was probably off somewhere looking for a source of amusement while the house wardens and vice wardens saw that their new underclassmen got situated. As long as he didn’t have to repay for damages he didn’t mind what shenanigans the other Leech twin got into since it could always be smoothed over at a later date.

As he was walking down the stairs though, he nearly fell, pausing dead in his tracks and clutching onto the bannister. Something was pulling at him so strongly that he nearly toppled over. And he could hear singing so loud that he could almost hear nothing else save for his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. His soul match. He wasn’t alone. Everything else seemed to disappear, nothing else mattered. But the moment of shock, awe, and soul-shattering happiness of finally knowing that there was finally someone out there, broke. Shattered into a thousand pieces. If it was happening now that would mean… it would mean that his soul match just entered into the world. That happiness morphed into bitterness. He would be at least seventeen years their senior, and he instantly felt ill.

Jade had noticed the odd behaviour and stood there waiting and watching. Seeing the different emotions flash across Azul’s eyes. “Hmm? Something the matter?” A coy smile slowly made its way onto his face, amused at whatever had caused the brief moment of clumsiness.

Azul’s face flushed blue, but he cleared his throat and continued on, ignoring the stare that was practically searing a hole at the back of his head. “Nothing for you to be concerned with,” he stated cooly. He was anything but cool though, quite the opposite really. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back to his office, even considering hiding away in his octopot after all of these years. Jade, however, did not need to be privy to any of this, lest Azul wanted to be teased for admitting to such a thing. “Now, let’s move along. We shouldn’t be late.”

The magnetic pull and song did not stop, if anything it kept on growing stronger. Azul had to grit his teeth to avoid his carefully crafted mask from falling. But there was a small part of him that wanted nothing more than to follow the pull, to find them. A part of him reasoned that soul matches were not always one type of relationship, some are purely platonic whereas others took on a more familial role, like what his mother told him many years ago. But no one was the wiser of his thoughts as he entered the mirror chamber, people more focused on first-day nerves and sorting out their new charges.

“New students,” he started, putting on a welcoming yet calculating smile. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your achievement. As dorm leader of Octavinelle House, I am honoured to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.” He looked around the new sea of faces that would call Octavinelle home. That’s odd though, the headmage seems to not be here.

Other dorm heads started muttering about the headmage’s absence, but soon enough he appeared, dragging along some grey creature and a new student in their robes. Azul winced, the song was deafening and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on what was being said.

But upon hearing, “I sense no magical powers from this one. Soundless. Colourless,” that piqued his interest and the song faltered slightly. “Shapeless. Utterly vacant. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.”

But the moment of silence was ruined, trying into chaos, since the grey creature decided to get loose and spew blue fire everywhere.

“Everyone,” Riddle shouted, “get down!”

The others were not much help, taking to bickering amongst themselves or trying (and failing in some cases) to not get licked by the flames.

Azul cleared his throat, “Allow me to handle this, Headmage Crowley. If none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility.” He would recount to others that he remembered the proceedings of that day, but he would be lying, as he could only recount the pull and the song that made it hard to hear or focus on anything else. Even the snarky banter with Riddle was forgotten. It was only the song that occupied his thoughts.

… ...

The song had quietened since it first showed up, now just a constant humming in his head. The pull though would vary in strength, meaning that his soul match was closer to him. He wanted nothing more than to run to them, but he knew better than to go into this blindly. He told himself that he would wait for six years, and talk to their guardian about him being in their life as a familial bond. The only inkling that Azul was thinking all of this was the occasional far-off look in his eyes, or singing the same song under his breath.

“That’s new,” Jade hummed.

Azul faltered, realizing that he had been singing his soul match’s song unknowingly. “I suppose it is,” he said, measuring his actions carefully. He knew that Jade would see through any lies he attempted, so he knew that telling the truth was a far better option. It would just have to be handpicked truths though, as to make sure not to lay everything bare, as he wasn’t ready for that yet. “I heard it recently and haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

Jade placed a cup of tea on the desk, careful to avoid any papers that were strewn about. “That so? I don’t recognize it.” His smile turned sharp, calculating, but he tampered it down to something more cold and polite. “Perhaps we can find the person who made this song?”

Azul stopped what he was doing, and looked at Jade with a raised brow. “There is no need for such… drastic measures,” he said, wanting nothing more than to hide away. Of course that damned eel would notice his off behaviour and put two and two together. “Besides,” he brushed himself off, “it would be foolish.”

“It would be foolish not to,” Jade replied. Soon the sharp smile returned, “Speaking of fools, there has been talk of the new Prefect of Ramshackle. Apparently, they have… won over Riddle and Leona. And they seem to keep rather interesting company as well. They seem intriguing.”

Azul pushed up his glasses and faintly recalled the face of the Ramshackle Prefect from the mirror chamber. “The magicless Prefect? And by company you mean those two first-years in Heartslabyul and that cat creature? Hmm, they did just sign these the other day.” He pulls out the three contracts, looking up at his friend(?), fellow business associate(?). “And that dorm, as… rustic as it is would work wonderfully for our latest business venture.” A small smug smile starts to bloom. “Let’s see how foolish they can be.”

… ... ...

When Azul overblotted, the song returned, practically screaming in his head, and the pull felt like he was next to a black hole. That’s all he really remembers from the incident, the rest of it being filled in by the others. But why was the song so loud? How was the pull so strong? He groaned, dragging his hands across his face. “Why is this happening,” he breathed out, staring up at the ceiling of his room. “Why now?”

And on top of all of this, the largest full moon of the year is happening next week, just his luck. At least the professors were understanding and gave the merfolk the week off of studies, and even if they could attend classes, everyone would have been too distracted to focus on the subject material. Perhaps he could take this week and work on revising the Lounge’s menu.

He sighed, it was no use trying to get any sleep at this rate. “Sea Witch,” he huffed, “why did you spin me this fate?” No one answered, just the calm light of the moon falling down from above, painting everything in cool silvers and blues. Perhaps a walk around campus would help clear his swimming thoughts and allow him to at least get a few hours of decent sleep before his first class of the day.

As he walked through the empty halls, Azul hummed the song that never ceased in his mind. He let the gentle pull of his soul match guide him. He knew it would lead somewhere, and he would stop himself from going any further if he felt it get too strong. What he wasn’t expecting was to hear someone else humming the exact tune, the same lyrics, harmonizing perfectly with his, echoing off of the corridors from out of site.

Both parties stopped. The gentle tugging now felt like a gravitational pull. And Azul was conflicted; should he continue ahead or turn back? His soul match had just happened this year, if they had indeed just entered into this world they shouldn’t be here, at the college, let alone at this hour. And by the tone of their humming, he would guess that they were around his age, not an infant as he first thought. Then why did it take so long for the song and pull to happen? What did that mean?

But the hurried footsteps which fled in the opposite direction of him were an indicator enough; they weren’t ready. They didn't want to meet him.

A lump formed in his throat. His soul match was here? For all this time? At the school? A slight panic arose. Did they know? Were they able to tell who he was based on the faint humming? Is that why they ran away? Because they knew and wanted nothing to do with him? After all this time why should he think any differently? Of course, his soul match would choose to run away from him. Why wouldn’t they? After his overblot, he wouldn’t expect them to stay. If he were them, he would have run away as well, far far away. He couldn’t blame them. He would have run away from himself too.

… ... ...

The week of the full moon came far sooner than Azul would have wanted. Instead of going home as many of the others did, he stayed, holing himself up in one of the private pools in the Octavinelle dorm during the day or his office when nighttime came around. Of course, he wasn’t so lucky to be the only one who stayed. Jade and Floyd had stayed to ‘keep him company’, but he knew that they only stayed to tease him even though they had their soul matches out there somewhere.

“Jade told me that you’ve been humming a little song,” speak of one the devils. Floyd poked his head into the crevice that Azul had crammed himself into at the deep end of the pool. “So you’ve been hiding the little siren song from us, that’s not fairr!~ Come on, sing, Azul!”

Azul glared at the intruding twin, “It has nothing for you to be concerned with.” He tried to push Floyd out of his personal space, but he just took it as a challenge to try and shimmy his way in further. “I don’t meddle in your… affairs,” he hissed, finally having enough of the meddling eel-mer and punching him in the gut with a tentacle, shooting him out of the rocky cavern and his personal space. “Now leave me alone!”

“Eh? Tch, whatever, you’re no fun like this, moping about,” Floyd pouted. His eyes soon lit up though, and he turned to his brother who was lurking in the background. “We should grab Little Shrimpy tonight! I wonder how they would react if we pulled them in for a swim?~”

Jade chuckled, “Their reaction would be quite amusing I imagine.” He swam over to Azul’s hiding crevice, and shot him a look that he knew too well; he was planning something, something that was sure to give him a headache.

Floyd swam about excitedly, twisting and turning, turning up the sand at the bottom and clouding up the water. “Swimming with Shrimpyyyy,” he sang with glee. “Heh heh, wonder if Shrimpy has their own song?~ Eh, but humans only have the song if their match is a mer…”

Azul groaned, what with Floyd’s babbling and the song being stubbornly loud today, he could feel the beginnings of a migraine. Why couldn’t there be large enough pools in their bedrooms so he could avoid all of this? “Seven’s, put me out of my misery,” he grumbled to himself.

“Ah, Azul,” Jade tutted, “we can’t have that now. After all, your match is around here, somewhere.” That earned the eel a tentacle punch as well, much like his brother. “No need to be rude now. We’re just trying to help is all.” But that smug shit-eating grin of his said otherwise. “Floyd, let’s go, the sun is setting. We’ll retrieve the Prefect closer to dawn.”

And finally, Azul was left alone. But the brief moment of peace was broken, hissing in pain. The transformation was happening. Upon completion, he poked his head out, making sure that the coast was clear before making his way towards his office and bolting the door shut. “At last,” he sighed, sagging against one of the sofas. “Some peace and quiet.”

As he busied himself with revising contracts, the day’s earnings, and going over notes on what subject matter to study for an upcoming test. But he wasn’t all there. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the song, and the tugging was strongest during this week. But after that night, when he heard them run away, he didn’t know if he wanted to find them anymore. What if this… whatever it is that the Sea Witch gave him, wasn’t right? He could have been content eventually, content with knowing that he didn’t have a soul match out there. But this, knowing and having one but having heard them run away before he could properly meet them? That was almost worse. He would always know that they were out there, and they had run away before even really getting to know him. Could they have been happy? Could they have been a friend? Could they have been like family? Could they have been… in love?

Eventually, he had to return to the pool, as he didn’t want anyone seeing him crawl back in his mer-form. When he got back he noticed the twins were still gone, but they would be back eventually, so he took this time to properly stretch out. Yes, being in tight spaces gave him a sense of security, but it felt nice to stretch out his tentacles and relax without worrying about someone interrupting him or making a rude comment. It felt nice to take up space.

“Come on, Shrimpy!” Floyd’s yelling alerted him, and he quickly went down to his hiding crevice before he was spotted. “Let’s go for a swim!~”

The door to the pool room opened with a loud bang, Floyd carrying the Ramshackle Prefect over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Even from under the water, Azul could hear them shrieking in protest. “FLOYD! Put me down!”

He hid further in his hiding spot, not wanting them to see him like this. He also clutched his hands over his ears, the song only increasing more and more. And the tugging at his soul grew even stronger.

Jade was of no help, just watching the chaos ensue. You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled at the action.

“Eh? Okay then, Shrimpy, if you insist,” Floyd got that familiar glean in his eyes, the kind that meant no good.

“Floyd, do not throw me! Don’t you dare throw me,” but he had already made the decision for you, and you could do nothing to stop him. He threw you into the pool, following suit by splashing in after you, drenching Jade in the process who shot his twin the side eye. “Why?” You seethed.

Floyd swam up beside you, now in his mer-form. “Cuz it’s more fun like this,” he sang, poking your cheek with the tip of a claw. “Right, Jade?!”

Jade was now also in the pool and swimming towards you. “While I wouldn’t personally throw them in, it was quite amusing.”

“You two are awful,” you sighed, giving into your fate. Despite being just thrown in, the water was quite pleasant but you wouldn’t admit it, since they would tease you mercilessly. Jade chuckled, and Floyd gave you a large smile, but neither of them denied the statement.

You went and laid on your back, floating and staring at the ceiling. To others, it would look like you were relaxing, but you did this not to relax, but rather to stay afloat. As you felt like an anchor was trying to pull you into the dark depths of the pool. There was nothing pulling you down physically though, and other odd things have also happened since you showed up at Night Raven College. Yes, a world filled with magic, merfolk, fae, and beastmen was quite the shocker, but none of that explained why you felt like something was always pulling you towards something, and the same song kept on playing in your head. And now, alongside the pulling, it was the loudest it has ever been, even louder than during Azul’s overblot when it felt like it was rupturing your eardrums. But it was more pleasant this time, not painful.

You hummed, “Just curious, but does everyone hear… a song in their head on repeat all the time?”

Floyd stopped splashing about and was in your face in a millisecond. “SHRIMPYYY!!!” And he tackled you into a hug that would definitely be leaving some bruises later. You should have been used to this kind of behaviour, but you still winced with him nearly screaming in your ear and the pressure of his squeezing.

Jade had also swam into your personal bubble, eyes filled with curiosity. “Oh, that’s rather strange. Have you always heard this little song of your’s, Prefect?”

You wiggled out of Floyd’s grasp, sputtering out some wayward water that had managed to get into your mouth, leaving behind the taste of salt. “No,” you grimaced, spitting out some more water. “Which is why I’m asking.”

Azul peered up, this exchange catching his attention, but still kept himself hidden.

“It means you have a soul match!~” Floyd giggled.

You frowned, “A soul match? Never heard of that.”

“A soul match is something rather common here,” Jade said. “For humans, it is quite rare. It is far more common in beastmen, fae and merfolk. The fact that you have such a bond is…” he paused for a moment, “rather interesting.”

You heaved yourself out of the water, as you didn’t feel comfortable staying in the pool what with the pulling and the off chance that it did eventually pull you underwater never to surface again. “Cryptic as always, Jade,” you raise a brow at the eel-mer. “Just answer the question please.”

Jade put a hand over his heart, “Oh, how you wound me.” He saw you roll your eyes, and he decided to elaborate on your request. “Mers are gifted soul matches by the Sea Witch. A song rests in the heart, calling out to the one who completes the harmony. Their match pulls at them, as the moon does the tide.” He leaned in close, eyes flashing. “So, to answer your question, Prefect-”

“Shrimpy’s match is a mer!!!” Floyd interrupted with glee, throwing his arms out, splashing you in the process.

Jade sighed at his brother’s antics. “Which is what I was going to say before you interrupted me, but he is correct. You have a soul match with a mer.”

You blinked in confusion. You, with a merperson? “But why? How,” you questioned, looking at your reflection in the water. Why me?

“That, I believe, is for you to discover on your own,” Jade hummed. You shot him the side eye. “Oh, don’t give me such a look, Prefect, you know I can’t give away everything. Besides,” he peered down into the depths, “if you follow the tug, and sing the song, you will find them eventually.”

With that, Jade dove into the depths, calling Floyd to follow him. You were left alone at the edge of the pool, with nothing else to accompany you but your dripping clothes and racing thoughts. And of course, the song that played in your head.

… ...

Somehow that night, Jade and Floyd had managed to pry Azul away from his desk and paperwork.

“Leave me alone,” he protested, glaring at them. “Go look for your soul matches without me!”

Floyd flung his arm across Azul’s shoulder, effectively trapping him into joining along. “But Azulll, we should find them together!~” Why did he insist on being so? So?! So annoying?! “Plus, I wanna see the look on your face when you see them for the first time! Maybe you’ll turn blue, or even spew ink!~”

Why did he befriend these two again? “I will do no such thing!” His voice cracked, going up an octave and he felt his face flush. And Floyd wore an even larger grin, poking at his cheek.

“See! Already proving to be fun!” He ran ahead suddenly, leaving Azul alone with Jade.

Azul massaged his temple, trying to regain whatever composure he had left. Didn’t he just say they would be searching for their soul matches together? Why in the Sea Witch’s name did he just run off without them?

Jade walked behind him, making sure he couldn’t just return back to his office and hide for the night. “Floyd is just a bit excitable is all,” he answered Azul’s silent question. But he knew that the eel was plotting something.

The pulling was getting stronger, and the song blocked out everything else. Azul had to close his eyes and dig his nails into his hands. He was not running away. He wasn’t the same little octo-mer that hid away from the world.

Just as soon as he had left, Floyd was back, and he had a tag-along. “And Shrimpy is joining us in the hunt!~”

Without thinking, both Azul and you stepped forward, being drawn together by an invisible force. And suddenly everything was silent. Sing. Azul’s mouth opened and shut, but nothing came out. He didn’t have to start though, as you sang the first notes, and he joined in. The two of you stood there, humming your harmony. And all those thoughts that plagued his mind earlier vanished, knowing that you were the right one. That the Sea Witch knew that you were the only one for him.

…

Bonus!

Jade and Floyd looked at the two of you curiously, with Jade having to hold back Floyd from interrupting the tender moment.

“Wondering if Shrimpy will stay human or decide to turn into a mer,” Floyd whispered to Jade. “Would they be a shrimp or octo-mer, to match with Azul?”

Jade turned his attention away from the two soul matches, “That’s for them and Azul to decide, we shouldn’t meddle.”

Floyd shot him a pout, “But when you meddle it’s fine? How did you even know they were soul matches in the first place?”

“It wasn’t all that hard,” he quipped. “I heard the Prefect sing some of the lyrics under their breath, and I also heard Azul quietly singing them as well.”

“See, meddling.~” Floyd looked at his brother expectantly, “Well, what were they?”

Jade looked at you and Azul, still humming the song to each other, a soft smile coming to rest on his face. “I believe it was, ‘Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down.’ Quite sweet if you think about it.”

Floyd also smiled, looking at the two soul matches. “Heh, it suits them.~”

. . . . .

Fin!

Now I dare you to read this again, knowing full well what the song is, because I swear it will make you see it in a different light and have you cracking up in parts. Please don't kill me, love you!

Link to Masterlist

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fic #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x gn reader #azul x reader #azul x gn reader #twst x gn reader #jade leech #floyd leech #mama ashengrotto #sorry but not sorry for the ending #literally i had written a note to myself near the beginning 'should i be a little shit and make the song a fucking meme... mayhaps'#i was crying CRYING i tell you #octavinelle #i greatly enjoyed putting azul through it and i will do it again in time #and also i would literally kill and die for azul's mum #jade just spends the entirety of this trying to get these two dense idiots together and not murder someone #floyd is just there for the vibes and shrimpy #99% genuine fic 1% crack #technically it's 0.0017% crack #twst x gender neutral reader #twst hurt/comfort #tweels

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fuck-kirk · 6 months

Text

Oh btw. I made a It Fucken WIMDY cup. If you even care.

#I have a lot of lil cups I made like this a few months ago #mott txt #motts art #motts ceramics #I’ll post more of my pots on here soon. I think y’all will enjoy them #they all sold at an arts festival at the beginning of the semester #I made almost 2k in sales it was sweet #I make a LOT of work I just never post it here hbsjskk #but figured the it fucken wimdy webbedsite would enjoy this one

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storfulsten · 3 months

Note

Do you think BF would ever be able to convince Whitty to wear one of those cat-ears headband things?

mm well don't see why not lol

have a vaguely related-but-not-really doodle I guess bc why not ha

#bombeep #whittyxbf #slightly more actual answer: no matter what it is if bf is persistent enough whitty will probably cave eventually #bf being his one biggest weakness and all that ridiculously corny stuff lmao #and really a cat ear headband is really quite a mild thing to ask for and tbh I don't see why whitty would mind it much to begin with #au-wise at least lmao #so ye anyways #pose dumb and silly making it not really relevant to the ask itself but eh they got ears on I guess so hm #ye idk #not feeling very creative atm lol #ye they look silly with some parts being extremely lazy but ignoring that maybe it's a cute doodle still so eh good enough #take it or leave it #enjoy or don't #whatever floats your boat #fnf au #fnf shipping #boyfriend #whitty #bf #I draw what I want #ask is a few months old so ye sorry for late reply and all that but ye #thanks for the message #thanks for the suggestion #even if it wasn't really an art ask it sorta motivated me to doodle something anyways so thanks for that either way lol #stay groovy friendo

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see-arcane · 20 days

Text

Blood of My Blood: The Law's Delay

Shout out to @ibrithir-was-here for putting up with my never-ending goal of overfilling the glorious Blood of My Blood AU with my ramblings and extra shout out to @everchangingfungusthoughts and @animate-mush for tripping me down the slope of Writing Another Text Brick. Specifically via this whole thing.

Summary: Jonathan Harker, now fifteen years deep into his life at Castle Dracula, finds himself the unwilling guest of yet another frightful host and his company. Talk and violence and time tick by.

The sun sinks low.

The dead travel fast.

And a vital Lesson is taught regarding the Law of the land.

Warnings for graphic violence, suicide, and murder.

Jonathan’s head ached.

Partly from the agonized spot at the back of his skull where the cudgel had struck. Mostly from the state of his current company.

They were nomads, he knew, but not Dracula’s men. This lot were too fresh for that. In fact, some wore tailoring that the locals weren’t accustomed to apart from tourists and the occasional city dweller passing through. He wouldn’t bet money on how many were ‘donated’ from past victims and how many were afforded through helping themselves to said victims’ purses and personal cheques. They were a dapper group, whichever the case.

From what he picked up while feigning unconsciousness, there was someone missing from their assembly. Someone’s…paramour? Wife? A young woman close to the presumed leader. Some grousing about superstitious idiots. Counter-grousing about precaution and history and how somebody’s cousin’s friend was slaughtered by the ‘superstitions.’ A third sect was grumbling about how thin Jonathan’s pockets were for a supposed noble, monster or not.

“A half-full purse and a few strips of dried pork don’t particularly line up with your theory, Jacob.”

“Props, idiot. Would some common huntsman be wearing what he wears? Would he have these?”

Jonathan heard the heavy jingle of his set of the castle’s keys. They had taken the ring of them from its chain among a handful of other lightweight treasures. All that and his wedding ring. That would cost them.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Because all the revenants who run a swatch of the Carpathians’ government are surely wandering around with frightful things like jerky and house keys.”

“Are you blind? Do these look like house keys? Half of them look older than the mountains!”

“Well, perhaps that is the ‘prop’ of his property, eh? A fancy set of keys made to look old. They certainly haven’t any rust. It wouldn’t be a terrible gimmick these days. Everyone is a fiend for the local bogeyman or a good haunting. I would do tours with my own castle, dribble a little red sauce on my lip, charge a fee for the thrill and the courtesy of not killing anyone on the way out.”

“You talk like it’s a joke. This, when I was raised in these godforsaken crags, and my own neighbor lost their newborn and its mother in the same night! The father blew his brains out when he found what was left of them in the forest. His forest.” The words were hissed in Jonathan’s direction. “God! If we had known how easy it was to take him by daylight!”

There was a snort. The leader’s voice. Sour.

“You say ‘we’ like you weren’t still in nappies, Jake. Like the castle in question isn’t a fortress on a cliff in the dead center of the mountains, all covered with wolves and your frightful bloodsuckers. What would Mama and Papa do if they knew better back then? March all the way up with the neighborhood and hope they made it in time before sunset? That’s assuming the advised tools of the trade actually mean anything against the bastard in question. If he’s as old as legends claim, throwing himself through a hundred wars’ meat grinders with his head and heart and all his other giblets getting minced, with him still standing after it, who’s to say an axe and stake are enough?”

A kick was delivered to the chair Jonathan sat bound to.

“Assuming this piece of work is said bastard.” Spoken with equal parts resignation and frustration. “I’ll grant he looked a bit off in broad daylight. Sure as hell would pass for a cadaver. But if this is the man who had your slovenly little villages soiling themselves after dark, I’m not impressed.”

Snickers from most of the room. A few grimmer sounds from the believers.

“If you don’t believe us, then—,”

“I believe in precaution, Jake. There are strange things in the world. If we want to believe that talking pile of dust, Vordenberg, who I’ll admit was a museum exhibit in his own right, we had us a near miss back in Gratz. So, fine. We finish this in the fashion of the locals. We can even set the pieces on fire if it makes you happy. Not the point. The point is—,”

A hand caught in Jonathan’s hair and wrenched his bowed head up, making the back of his skull throb anew.

“—we know Katrina was seen with you last, you ghoul.”

Jonathan opened his eyes. It had a noticeably sobering effect on much of the room. His host even eased his hold enough to stop trying to rip Jonathan’s hair out. A glance was spared for the assembled party. Easier now that he wasn’t doing it through his lashes. They really were a well-dressed bunch. One of them even wore the silver watch taken from Jonathan’s pocket quite well, though it clashed somewhat with the dagger he was fiddling with. He’d sprung for a handle with a gold hilt.

“Well?” He received a last yank before the man flung his head against the back of the chair. “Where is she?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name. Could you describe her?”

“Oh, I doubt if she would give her real one out to anyone. But we know you know her, Count.”

Jonathan felt the headache blossoming into a migraine.

“Count?”

“Dracula,” the one called Jacob grated out. He stood close to the table with his hand near the aforementioned tools of the trade. A wood axe. A sharpened garden stake and a sledgehammer. Matches. But he, like the rest of his friends, was content to leave his other hand resting on the pistol at his hip. “Don’t think you can throw your word games around here, you leech. You are not boyar here. You are not even a monster by daylight. Just a man—,”

“A man I am talking to, Jake,” from the leader. He turned back to Jonathan. “You see we have some bias in the retinue. Now, Jake and his cadre believe you are, in fact, the same awful old man who likely played out his Báthory fantasies by killing off a few local rustics for kicks once upon a time. Same white hair, same carcass complexion, and some properly unhealthy-looking windows of the soul. As an aside, you have the same body heat as a slab from the butcher. If you had a chance of living beyond today, I might have recommended you see a doctor about your circulation.

“Because I, like the bulk of the room, am of the belief that you are Count Dracula in the sense that the original Count and some Countess loved each other very much and managed to squat your malformed self out into the world before croaking. And, before departing, father dearest passed on the family tradition of idly killing off whoever was convenient as a little hobby. Am I near enough?”

Jonathan said nothing. Chiefly because he was fighting a wave of nausea, but also because it allowed him to keep his gaze steady. The westward window was visible over his host’s shoulder.

“I asked you a question.”

“I will answer if you tell me how you possibly concluded that a middle-aged man walking in the woods was a nobleman.”

To his surprise, the man revealed his evidence: the tarnished gold clasp of a dragon sitting against a garnet setting. This would also cost them.

“Hard to imagine the average hiker idling around in that corner of the wilds with this particular emblem on his coat.”

“That’s true,” Jonathan nodded. “I am not a hiker or a hunter any more than I’m a count. I am only the castle’s retainer.”

“Ah, well. That’s different. We are men of the people, sir, and we take pride in doing our fellow servile class the courtesy of a quick death. It’s only the aristos and nouveau riche who get the extra effort. Them and bleached out old bastards who go around taking what’s ours. What’s mine.” Jonathan watched the man slide a handsome pearl-handled blade from his pocket. It had a very fine edge. “Case in point, a certain young lady, of the flaxen and doe-eyed variety, being spotted in town with an older man of very unique description, not two days ago. Who she left with in his goddamn caleche.”

The blade came down in a gleaming arc. It sank cleanly into Jonathan’s left shoulder. Jonathan screamed at this and at the blade being flicked out. The steel was wiped clean on his sleeve.

“It should go without saying,” the leader said over Jonathan’s noise, steadily dwindling into hard breaths behind his teeth, “that the locals have a few choice theories about just who and what the man driving those horses is. Human? Dead? Dracula or one of his cohorts? Anyone who’d know for certain is either underground or a living antique themselves. Oh. But they did point out you seemed polite enough, according to most. Not someone anyone is eager to shake hands with, but fair. If you are the old devil of before, the younger generation are relieved you’ve gone mellow with the new century. Well done on the new leaf.”

“They were lying,” Jacob intoned, the picture of exasperation. “We all used to lie about him! He had eyes and ears everywhere! You didn’t mention him aloud unless you wanted to wake up to your child missing or you yourself being drunk dry or taken apart! I’m telling you, Katrina is already gone or worse!” His hand clutched eagerly at the whittled garden stake. “Let us be done with this, Anthony.”

Anthony gave his blade another cleaning swipe. He opened his mouth—

“The stake is wrong.”

—and closed it. He and the others peered down at Jonathan as he righted himself against the chair. The migraine was marching in circles around his head now, lighting fireworks and banging pans. At least his shoulder was a small distraction.

“Say again?”

“The stake. You haven’t finished the end of it. If you don’t burn the point down, harden it, the wood will just splinter if you don’t get it in one blow. One of you took the flint lighter from my coat, yes? Use that and save yourself the matches.”

The room looked owlishly at him. Jacob and his small band especially. Awkwardly, one of the latter fished out the stolen lighter and began cooking the point with its steady flame.

“See that? He’s already feeling accommodating.” Anthony clapped his palm with heavy chumminess against the wounded shoulder. Jonathan winced appropriately, stealing another squinting glance at the window. “Care to keep in this giving mood, or would you like me to even things out?” The blade pointed airily at Jonathan’s right shoulder.

“No need. I said before, I do not know anyone named Katrina. But I did give a ride to a young woman two days ago. Not ‘flaxen,’ though. Her hair was red.”

Anthony abruptly straightened. The blade twisted and fidgeted in his fingers.

“Red,” under Anthony’s breath. His brow furrowed. “She took the wig too?” There was a low murmur from the less vampirically-invested portion of the group, of that specific tone that declares ‘I told you so’ by vowels alone. Anthony whirled on these members like a viper. Several mouths snapped shut. “Did you lot have something you wished to share? Hmm? I’m all ears.”

Interest increased in the state of each other’s shoes, the floor, the lovely view of the mountains, and the progress of the stake. It was now neatly blackened and free of loose slivers. Jacob stood by with it, toying with it as Anthony had his knife. He kept trying and failing to meet Jonathan’s gaze.

“Ah,” Anthony grinned mirthlessly, “that’s what I thought you said.” The blade flashed. “Now, Count, Retainer, Whoever or Whatever, while you are being forthcoming, is she alive or dead? I confess I might be just as happy with one or the other at this point, so no need to fret over a lie.”

“She was alive the last time I saw her. I dropped her off outside Bistritz,” Jonathan said, clearly recalling turning the horses toward Bukovina. He winced again as Anthony laid a hand on the bleeding shoulder, driving his thumb against the wound as he leaned.

“And? How did the bitch pay for her ride? Did you introduce her to necrophilia or did she just throw my money at you?”

“Neither. I am a married man and you can tell I had no bank vault in my pockets. In any case, I must assume whatever she took from you was fair recompense.” Jonathan felt a shift come through him. The old cold tilt that made him lean three-quarters of the way out of humanity and into something else. Whatever it was that lit his eyes and froze the air around him. That made the entire room shift an unconscious inch back. “Considering the state of her face.”

Anthony’s own countenance squirmed between aggravation, anger, and a surreal flash of embarrassment. As if leaving the girl’s face mottled with patches in shades of plum and charcoal was the equivalent of friends overhearing a marital spat in the next room. The man’s lip curled, making the well-trimmed whiskers twitch.

“Do forgive me if my decorum isn’t up to your standards, sir. I tend to get a touch irate when the thankless sow I’ve been bedding not only comes within inches of blowing our cover over some brat who went and poked his head out at the wrong time, but has the gall to try and resign after a few threadbare months. As if I didn’t scrape the little strumpet out of the gutter with my own hands.” A storm roiled in the man’s face. “Had a whole life of gold ahead of her, getting to play out her idiot actress dreams, and she thanks us by taking off with three hotels’ worth of work. Over a goddamn toddler. But that is the way with women, isn’t it? Always falling apart over a babe.”

“Men as well, in my experience,” Jonathan hummed. His line of sight drifted back to Jacob, whose attention was now firmly split between Jonathan and the view from the west window. Even halfway through spring, the sunsets did still tend to rush in the mountains. Shadows were already starting to stretch.

“Personal experience?” Anthony asked with an appraising glance that saw value in the negatives with Jonathan’s mien. “Is there a little Dracula pup crawling around nursing on the countryside?”

“Oh, no. He’s grown out of crawling. Apart from roaming along the castle walls, when he wants to surprise me. There’s no getting away with it with his mother.” Jonathan swallowed a bitter lump, knowing it had to be heard aloud, “Or his father.” Jacob was looking at him now. This time Jonathan held his eyes as they grew an increment wider. A slight dew of sweat had formed on the young man’s brow. “I only know where they are half the time. But they can always find me.”

Anthony barked an acidic note that tried to be a laugh.

“Is this the part where you tell us you’ll be missed? That there’s some cavalry who will come seeking vengeance? Please spare yourself the storytelling. If you were anything other than a relic living off a skeleton staff you wouldn’t be driving your own horses or puttering around by your lonesome. Really, what we’re doing here is a public good. What’s the loss of one more parasite riding into the twilight of peerage’s relevance?”

“Regrettably, he has thought ahead on that,” Jonathan admitted. “The gold he’s already sitting on is kept partly for emergency seed money, but mostly as a memento. He’s been on top of the capitalistic pulse since 1652 going by the oldest records. Given another decade, I believe he’ll be a magnate in a dozen industries from here to the United Kingdom.” A genuine moue puckered his face. “He calls it investing in the live-stock. No, I didn’t think it was funny either.”

This he addressed to Jacob.

Jacob, who had to set the stake down because his hand was shaking.

Jacob, who had been keeping watch of him and the window and seen how blandly Jonathan greeted the approaching dusk.

Jacob, who had finally taken a closer look at what Jonathan wore under his coat. His coat, worn because he was always cold—a chill that he truly felt. Covering an ensemble of boots, long sleeves, and a high collar. In mid-April.

“…You still have time,” Jonathan told him gently. “If you had your childhood here, you know there’s time. You still wear your crucifix, yes?” Jacob flicked his gaze up to Jonathan’s. His whole face seemed to shine with perspiration. He did not know what was wrong yet, what piece was missing, but he scented something. “Do you? Any of you?”

Jacob nodded jerkily. The men behind him did likewise. Some fidgeted at their shirts.

“That’s good. It sickens them, did you know? Stings them away from the throat.” Jonathan smiled for him. A sad curl. “Hold it out before you if you like.” He tipped up his chin. Just above the shirt collar was a glimpse of sickish color against the maggot-white skin. Something worse than a bruise. “You can check. Or ask one of your friends. But it does help to know for certain. To have it confirmed.” The smile grew worse in its apology. “There have been no vampire attacks in Transylvania for the past fifteen years. The youngest around here take it all as local legends. Parents’ and grandparents’ fairy tales. Because they grew up without knowing what you do. Without realizing why people stopped disappearing after dark when Count Dracula still rules here. When there are still sharp mouths to feed up in his mountains.”

Jacob gawped openly now. He looked strangely like the boy he might have been fifteen years ago, hearing his neighbors whisper and moan about the latest loss in the night. Fifteen years ago, when a foolish young Englishman had come to Castle Dracula, and everyone had known. No one had seen him again…supposing one belonged to a family who had moved away at last, daring their monstrous master’s ire to save their son.

“Oh, for God’s sake, what is this? Are we playing theatre now?” Anthony and his handful of fellow eye-rollers looked between Jonathan and Jacob as if expecting to spot some invisible party holding up script cards for them. “Jake, if you want to play at slaying the vampire, you are welcome to it. Get your stick and your hammer and have at it. Erik, take the axe.” He waved his blade like an impatient conductor with his baton. “Well?”

Jacob moved forward without the stake. His crucifix was held out as far as the cord would allow.

Then he hooked Jonathan’s shirt collar and pulled it open.

Jonathan hadn’t been able to get a good look at the full state of himself in some while. Occasionally he might steal a glance in a mirror for sale or a clean shop window in town. There was rarely anything good to see as far as his development went. Age was not weathering him the way it would an ordinary man. What should have become the easy creasing of crow’s feet and smile lines had given way to something sunken and grey. More than a few children had come to nickname him ‘Herr Geist’ when he passed through. On one occasion, he’d been approached by an American claiming to be a talent scout for a circus who thought Jonathan could easily bill as, The Walking Corpse.

But that was all just the effect of his face. He hadn’t seen his throat or a clear view of his shoulders in years; the real estate with the greatest number of visits for fifteen years. It had to be at least twice as unpleasant a sight as his forearms, pocked by only one hungry mouth’s nursing. To judge by the shudder of revulsion that jolted the entire room back on its heels, his neck was apparently quite the visual.

To judge by Jacob’s expression, the discolored map of ruined skin and old punctures was his own obituary in all capitals. Nor was it a very peaceful end it spelled out. His eyes rolled up to Jonathan’s like wet marbles. Jonathan could no longer maintain his smile, however somber. There was only condolence in the look.

“I told you. I am Castle Dracula’s retainer. At least, in the sense of a retaining wall. I have played the role of its inhabitants’ personal bloodletting pantry for a quarter of a century. Which would be cause enough to worry. But I am also a married man and that is worse.”

Jacob wobbled on his feet like a sapling in a high breeze. He almost fell over with a cry when the first thunderclap boomed over the cabin’s roof. A horrified look shot to the westward window. Sunset was less than a jagged slit across the mountaintops, already erased in the smear of a rushing storm. Lightning drew livid eyes in the clouds.

“I am sorry. You might have had a chance if you hadn’t been cautious,” Jonathan went on. “There would have been a coin toss if you had simply shot me dead in the forest. I fear I am testing everyone’s patience in that household by keeping to my contract against turning until the twenty-year mark. Special occasion and all that. But if you had gone with a bullet or a slit throat, that would mean that I would be undead by sundown. You would still be slain for trespassing on private property,” he gestured to himself as best he could with his bound hands, “but it would have been tidier. They might even be grateful for ripping off the plaster and booting me over the threshold. A mere snapped neck apiece.

“Unfortunately, I saw your tools of the trade. I heard your plans for ‘destroying the vampire,’ or the madman playing pretend as such. Heart staked, head removed, burn the body. All very thorough. But because I saw and heard these things, they saw and heard these things. Just as they know your faces now.”

Thunder snarled again. An explosive sound joined with a noon-bright flicker of lightning. Wolves sang a violent song. Close.

Jacob’s friends within the gang were talking in frantic tones to each other. The rationalists of Anthony’s side of the room seemed a touch less comfortable where they stood, grasping at their holsters. Anthony himself looked as if he was waiting to wake from a particularly confusing dream.

Jacob’s eyes were running. Pleading. A man only five short years past being a boy.

Jonathan still could not hold a smile for him, but he spoke in the tone he had for Quincey the time he’d came across a bat with a half-broken neck in the forest. Wings smashed, head cracked open, it had been alive in the worst way. Quincey had been thirteen then, considering himself practically a skip away from adulthood. He had still gone to his Papa, eyes dewy with blood trying not to spill, asking please…please…

Jonathan thought back to how his son had hidden in his coat sleeve while he ended the creature’s pain with a brisk twist.

It was quick, you see? It won’t hurt anymore now, shh, it’s alright, son.

“It’s alright,” he said in the present. “You still have time.” Not much. A few minutes at most. But still, “You’ll be safe from it. From all of it.”

Jacob nodded with a twitch. A puppet on a caught string. His hand trembled as it held up the crucifix again.

“…May I keep this? After?” Jonathan nodded. “Thank you.”

Jacob kissed the Cross and tucked it under his shirt.

“Jake, I swear to God, if you don’t drop this act, I will—,”

Bang.

The sound was almost lost in another thunderclap. Not so for the sound of Jacob’s corpse hitting the floor, the new tunnel in his head oozing a scarlet pond out from under his skull. There was a moment of quiet.

Then the wolves bayed again.

The men bayed too. Curses and questions of equal inanity whirled around the room.

Bang.

The sound of Anthony’s own pistol firing a hole through the ceiling.

“Shut. Up. Every one of you, bite your idiot tongues.” The barrel swung to point at Jonathan’s temple. “He says he has people on the way? He says they’re vampires or werewolves or the Four Horsemen a-riding? Then it would perhaps behoove us to think rather than squeal like women over this,” his shoe struck Jacob’s corpse, “fool’s choice of exit. Coward.” He snapped his fingers at the room. “Come on! Block the windows, set up arms! Move!”

And so they moved. Some men scrambled and shouldered into each other trying to cover the windows. Chairs were broken into pieces for stakes. Guns were unpacked and loaded. Erik held the axe as if his hands were welded to it. Anthony, meanwhile, took one of the unbroken chairs for himself and perched at Jonathan’s side. Something between supreme irritation and a baffled sort of wonder shaped his face.

“I do have to give you credit if this is all improvisation on your part. You should have been booked at the Grand Guignol instead of rotting up here.”

Jonathan watched Erik begin to pace, gripping the axe as though it doubled for a shield.

“That or one of those hypnotist acts. Jake was always a nervous one. An easy mark, ironically enough.”

Jonathan’s peripheral caught on Erik’s figure as he came to a stop by the door. There was no peephole to spy through, yet he inclined his head toward it. His ear was cocked as if listening for something under the thunder and wolves.

“But supposing this amounts to something more than an act, I admit I’m curious to see what these things are supposed to be like outside the pulp on the bookshelves or clogging up the stage. Everyone has their opinion on them these days.”

Erik first frowned, then nodded at the bolted door. The anxious creases of his face began to smooth. A smile tugged his lips up as the axe lowered.

“Are they the same kind of horror show as you?”

“Usually quite the opposite,” Jonathan allowed. “But that is by choice. They make some rather impressive exceptions when the occasion calls for it.”

Erik set the axe down. His freed hands moved the wooden bolt aside and reached for the key on its hook. This didn’t go unnoticed. The nearest man, one of Jacob’s friends, jolted toward him.

“Erik, what the hell are you doing?”

“Didn’t you hear her?” Erik spoke over him in a dreaming lilt. “The girl outside. Lovely voice.” He turned the key in the lock. “She and her brother got lost in the storm.” He turned the knob. “Wouldn’t be right to leave them out th—,”

Bang.

Erik dropped like a felled tree. Jacob’s friend whirled on the rest of the room, his gun and free hand up. He had his crucifix worn outside his shirt now.

“I had to! You know I had to! Jacob and old Vordenberg laid it out, didn’t they? You invite the things in and it’s all over!” He pointed at the door with the new stain on its timber. “One of them is out there right now, trying to worm into our heads, so we’ll let it over the threshold.”

As every eye nailed itself to the man and the door and the second corpse within five minutes, no one paid attention to the fireplace. They had not lit it, having opted solely for lamps. Chimney smoke would give away their location to anyone happening by the area.

Only Jonathan stared at the open stone mouth of the hearth. Watching what crawled out. Watching it watch him.

Anthony swatted Jonathan in his bad shoulder. He looked up and realized he’d been asked a question.

“Pardon?”

“Is he. Telling. The truth. Or did Erik lose his brains over nothing?”

“A vampire cannot cross the threshold of someone’s home without invitation. I think, at a stretch, you could call this temporary base of yours ‘home.’ Strict definition is tricky for travelers. But if you declare this place yours—,”

“We do,” insisted half the room in unison.

“We do,” Anthony echoed, somewhat dryly. “Our lovely domicile, this. And we are strictly against welcoming any visitors tonight.”

“Understandable. But there’s still the trouble of this afternoon. It’s hard to be more insistent about an invitation than resorting to abduction.”

“And? What of it?”

The fireplace continued to purge its contents out and out and out. Cooling the room like a thin and steady gust. Heads finally began to turn as gooseflesh spread and the sight became unignorable: A thick mist had been pouring into the room since Erik’s brains splattered on the door.

“You thought I was Count Dracula. Whether I was him or not, he was the man you wanted here.” Jonathan looked Anthony in the eye. He was not surprised at what he found there as it squirmed and sweated. “I’m afraid you invited him in two hours ago.”

The lamps guttered. One snuffed. Then its neighbor. A third, a fourth. Voices raised in tandem with the weapons.

“Light them!” came the universal cry. “Turn them back up, come on!”

But the room blackened and blackened until it came down to one canny fellow who’d dived for a lantern. The same man who’d pocketed the flint lighter. He lit the lantern and set it shakily on the table, its glow seemingly safer than the lamps’. The lighter was almost as bright in his hand, making a spotlight for himself in the ruddy gloom.

“What? What is it?”

Every head was turned to face him. Every eye wide enough to show its whites, like the stares of startled horses. The man opened his mouth to utter a third query—and stopped.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold. Far colder than the man he’d taken the lighter from. Its fingers ended in claws.

Above his head, the firelight caught on what might charitably be called a grin. It was, in fact, the default state of Count Dracula’s jaw in this shape. A medley of the wolf and the bat and the nightmares that are born when children’s imaginations first start to sketch the things that will eat them in the dark.

Jonathan wished he could have closed his eyes for all that followed. He did try. But there was an implicit order sunk into his mind that demanded he watch. Had this been a decade ago, this may have been for the sake of an object lesson.

This is what I can do. This is what I would have done to your little hunting party at the right hour, with your guard down for an instant. This is what I will do to any sheltering cattle you try to run away to with wife and child. Watch, my friend. Watch.

But that was practically a lifetime past. They were coming up on a mere five years until the wait was over and his free will and the final fig leaf of humanity was forfeit. Which suggested that he was a captive audience solely for the fact that an audience was desired. There was some artistry to it all, in a medieval sense. Some of the acts performed with the makeshift stakes and the barrels of guns and certain repurposed bones reminded Jonathan of old woodcuts left out for him to see once upon a time, back in that first summer alone with the castle’s Master.

By the time one of the men died choking on his own severed arm, the rest of the lot stopped shooting and herded themselves to the door, desperate. To their relief, there was no vampire at the threshold. They fled.

A heartbeat passed before the screaming began anew. Gunfire mingled with it. The screaming dwindled down and down, the choir thinning to a single shriek that ended on a terrible sound. Wet and crunching. Wolves were heard soon after.

Anthony had not moved from his position behind Jonathan’s chair. He’d resumed his grip on his hair, this time holding his blade just below the Adam’s apple.

“If you don’t have a head,” Anthony panted at the Count, now busy picking gristle from the spades of his nails, “you can’t be undead. The plays make a lot of fuss about staking the heart, but this?” He tugged Jonathan’s head back another inch and pressed the blade’s edge until the skin broke. “I figure it’s a fair bit more vital. I am a practiced man at my profession and quick when I need to be. You want him in one piece instead of two, you leak yourself out the door, call off your pets, and I’ll send him on his way come sunrise.” Though he couldn’t see him, Jonathan was certain the man was trying to smile. “If you’re amenable, perhaps we can even get a silver lining out of this whole thing.”

Dracula sucked a piece of sinew out of his thumbnail.

“I am accustomed to getting my hands dirty. While I’ve been in the habit of leading assorted hapless dregs around, I can easily see myself following someone worth respect. Your friend here indicated he’s on the edge of retirement anyway, and I imagine you could do with someone to step into the role. Or add to the ranks.”

Dracula busied himself with scanning the floor. He plucked up the silver watch still chained to a torso that was twisted like a wrung washcloth. A scowl was spared upon retrieving the key ring from a puddle of a head. Then the pouch containing Jonathan’s allowance. He deposited each bit of treasure found on the table. The last thing he discovered was Jonathan’s wedding ring. He seemed to ponder flicking it aside, but saw Jonathan watching. The ring was dropped in the pile the way one might discard a clump of dirt.

“Well?” from Anthony. “Do you talk or not?”

“I do,” from the Count. “Though not usually to vermin. Especially ones who raid my pantry.”

“Honest mistake on our part. I hadn’t realized you were the one-in-a-thousand legend that isn’t just the fumes of an invented ghost story.”

“I see.” Dracula bent and retrieved the stake that had its point burned. It left the holster of a man’s sternum with a damp sound. “And this too was a mistake?”

“Just trying to placate the skittish sorts in the party. You saw how Jake was.”

“I did.” The Count tapped the stake’s point against his chin, pondering. “In fact, I think I recall a face like his. A sailor I met once. He took to the sea, having no bullet in reach.” He leveled the stake at Anthony’s head. “You called him a coward for this, yes?”

“Am I wrong?”

“There is a fine line between cowardice and wisdom,” Dracula shrugged. “It moves more than you would think. Little Jacob was wise tonight, if sadly mistaken in his target. He was not the first of his type. Likely not the last. The same goes for you, vermin. You, who squeak and chitter about preying upon the predator, and then try to sell yourself to the cat.” Though much of his face had reset to a human shape, the Count’s teeth remained a bristling forest of white needles when he grinned. “I have had this land in my jaws for half a millennium. I have not gone a single century without your like slinking underfoot, thinking to kiss my cape and offer a tithe of others’ throats to win my favor. My power.”

“Way of the world, isn’t it? Strong bows to stronger. What makes this cadaver,” another jerk on Jonathan’s hair, another throb in his skull, “so special? Better resumé? Seasoned arteries?”

“A number of things.” Another shrug, a twirl of the stake like a toy. “He does so hate to hear it anymore. It has been so long since any kind of praise heartened him and age has made him shy. But he cannot shush me, so I can say he does far more than bleed, be it himself or his victims of old. He certainly has a more impressive history than robbing and gutting tourists for a living, and so is far more attuned to the Law of this land than any other. Not the yapping dogs of mortal authorities. Not your jailor or judge or bureaucrat. Not even those of the sciences, such as they are.”

Thunder cracked and lightning danced. The Count’s eyes burned brighter than the lantern.

“He knows that I am Law in these mountains. That my will, my word, and my want order all that is here. He knows that there is no escaping consequence for trespassing upon what is mine. But.” The Count clapped the stake into his open palm with the joviality of a cruel teacher with his yardstick. “Beyond all this, he is something which guarantees his value over yours or any other’s. He warned you himself.” The jagged grin turned almost saccharine. “He is a married man. And you have kept him out far too late for his spouses’ liking.”

Anthony shifted behind the chair. The grip on Jonathan’s hair shuddered a moment as if suddenly repulsed to be touching it.

“God. Even the monsters are in on that depravity up here?”

“Depravity is a pastime of mine. But I am not so low as to debase myself by touching filth like yours.” So saying, the Count raised both hands in mock surrender. “I shall not waste my time or teeth on you.”

“Fine. Fine, you say that and I can believe you. Once you’re out the door.”

The door, still open.

The door, which Anthony had not dared to look at for fear of taking eyes off the Count.

The door, full of mist.

“Ah, but I cannot go yet. There is a show I have been so looking forward to. You mentioned the Grand Guignol. Such a promising establishment! I plan to see it in person some night. But for now, we must content ourselves with your meager scene.”

Anthony opened his mouth to ask something. Say something. Maybe he was just drawing breath. Whatever the reason, his mouth froze in a voiceless O of epiphany.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold.

It distracted him from the other, decorated with its simple gold band, locking around the man’s forearm; the one responsible for holding the blade.

Snap.

Anthony’s mouth dropped open wider, belting a screech that left Jonathan’s ears ringing. Then the man was torn away from the back of the chair and all the noise of him was pinned and shrilling on the floor. Laced over the ensuing sounds of his dismantling, both vocal and visceral, was a voice that threaded through the mind more than the ear:

He cut you. Twice he cut you.

“I’ll be fine, Mina.” Said because there was concern in the statement. There was. But, more pertinently, there was the accusation. The condemnation. The citing of the crime.

He cut you. He meant to kill you. He meant to unmake you out of reach forever.

Anthony made a new and piercing noise. The kind just an octave short of a dog whistle. Jonathan winced.

“And he failed to. It’s alright, Darling.”

“Hardly,” from the Count, now turning Anthony’s abandoned seat around to face the slaughter. “You are too soft as always, my friend. Even when it comes to a rightful culling. Or do you think they deserved to live after their crimes?”

“I think this was excessive.” Jonathan withheld a sigh as Dracula hooked the back of his chair, hoisting and turning it so that his back was no longer to Mina’s work. She seemed to have an innate understanding of what could be taken apart and to what degree, the better to leave Anthony still clinging miserably to a thread of life. “And I also think I’m ready to have these off.”

He flexed his hands and feet as far as they could go against the ropes.

“Have what off?” Dracula asked as he swiped a finger into the shoulder wound. A child stealing cake icing. He clicked his tongue. “This would happen just after a feeding. All this guilt-free cuisine and your knights-errant are too full to enjoy the banquet. A pity. Have you eaten?”

“If I had my hands free, I could get my—,” Jonathan pursed his lips as Dracula brandished a bouquet of the retrieved dried pork. Deciding against waiting for the mesmer to prod him into it, he opened his mouth a crack. Bit. Chewed.

“Do you suppose the Grand Guignol has concessions? Any actual blood used in place of the stage swill?”

Jonathan swallowed. A nauseous feat, considering the piece Mina removed from Anthony in the same moment.

“I doubt any director is so dedicated, Sir.” Anthony was growing quieter now. There wasn’t enough air in him. Jonathan could tell by the glimpse of lung through his ribs. “Does Quincey know about this?”

No. It was blocked from him. He believes we are out on business.

Crunch. Twist. Rip.

Anthony went silent and still at last. Dracula afforded this a light round of applause.

“Not wholly a lie, you will grant. Though I suspect the boy thinks it was code for a more,” the Count made a face caught between glee and disdain, “intimate excursion. Which should be an easy enough ward against any prying you fear from him. You may have made a sickening romantic of the boy, but there is never a child alive or undead who wishes to know what his parents get up to out of his sight.” The Count craned his head, squinting at what was left of Anthony. “Did you come across it?”

That depends. Where’s mine?

Mina stood with the dragon clasp in one red hand and her other held out and open. Dracula idled a moment or three longer than was necessary before the stolen wedding band was produced. Clasp and ring were thrown rather than exchanged. Jonathan had each reattached to him. Though the Count spared a curse in three different languages at finding the coat not only mangled at the shoulder, but torn where the clasp had been ripped away.

“As if they could not understand the mechanics of a brooch? You should have pinned this in his eye.”

You should have fed him the stake. Look at this.

Mina touched the nick on Jonathan’s throat.

I know you count my wound as a blessing, but I would think you’d not risk losing his voice.

“I had to stall while you cleared up the leftovers outside. I may as well have left you with the boy.”

And lost your show and your diversion.

“You—,”

“I cannot feel my feet anymore,” Jonathan announced. “And I would like to stitch and plaster myself before we head out. Whatever Quincey may think we’re up to, it will be easier to lie without me looking like I just left,” he gestured as best he could at the room, “this.”

A minor miracle came and went as there was no suggestion made that they simply lay a new bite apiece over the wounds. The ropes were cut, what was filched was returned to its owner, give or take a little scavenging of their own. Jacob and the others were left with their tokens of the Son. Outside, the wolves went on enjoying the meal Mina had left for them. Up until a titanic thunderbolt struck the cabin and sent them scrambling. The building went up like a great bonfire.

“I know, my friend, you were clearly looking forward to digging more graves. But you must admit my method is quicker and far more thorough in erasing evidence.” The nettling cadence waned. “I suggest you avoid wandering away from the castle for some time. Considering your state.”

Not while dressed in this, at the very least. It’s clear this insignia draws as much ire as it deters.

“A fluke,” the Count huffed. “Such degenerates as those are rare. The chattel know better. Besides, the folly was in drawing attention by playing Good Samaritan to the wrong victim and her maudlin pleading. Something else to keep in mind.” Jonathan tried and failed to keep his head down as the hook landed in his mind and turned his eyes up. Dead blue against burning red. “At least for as long you insist on holding to your last few years as…this.”

Jonathan bit into his last strip of the dried pork. Loudly.

“Five years. That’s all.”

“Four and a half.”

“Four and a half I mean to savor. In-between being waylaid.” The careful placidity fractured as his free hand drifted up to the back of his skull. Still aching. “I think I shall finish off the Golden Mediasch tonight.” His hand was plucked away by Mina’s own, her chilled fingers seeking out the tender place under his hair. Her fingertips felt the scabbing patch.

I should have skinned him.

“You are welcome to stroll through the fire and do so,” the Count hummed. But his smile stopped short of his eyes and his own hand swept Mina’s away to thumb at the ache. “The Mediasch is barely more than fruit juice. You will want something stronger.”

Jonathan didn’t argue. Nor did he protest when the horses of his ex-hosts were commandeered for the return to the castle. Quincey thrilled at the sight of them almost as if they had arrived riding wolves. Was this the business they went on? Tunet and Pretekár were quite new—and solid obsidian as the horses before had been—but it was good to see them gain more company. And they’d picked piebald this time!

“They’re beautiful. Do they have names yet?”

“Thought we’d leave that to you,” Jonathan managed lightly enough. Or nearly so. Quincey frowned at him, nose pricking at the smell of dried blood.

“Papa, are you alright? You—,” his eyes landed on the coat, “—what happened?”

“Just a quick lesson from our new friends about minding their moods. I was tossed and landed in a less than opportune pile of rocks.”

Quincey scowled at that and scrutinized the stallions.

“Which one? I’m not riding him. Or petting him, even.” He considered. “At least for a month.”

“Seems a cruelty too far. I suppose I just won’t reveal the guilty party.”

“And what if I get on the wrong horse and I get tossed and land on a rock somewhere? What then?”

“Then you will get back up and be perfectly alright. Or am I misremembering the night you fell asleep on the side of the north turret and fell through half a tree on your way down?”

“Yes, well. They were fairly soft branches.” Quincey fought and lost the attempt to keep his smile up. “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“The horses weren’t the actual business, were they? You could have gotten them yourself.”

“That’s true. The horses were only picked up afterward. Quite a bargain, not counting the lumps.”

“Then what happened?”

Jonathan looked at his son. His Sweetheart, though the boy had finally started to bud into that stage that visits all adolescents, demanding a shedding of childhood names. There was a dusting of stubble barely fringing his jaw and his mother’s own whorls outgrowing the edges of his last haircut. But the eyes were still a child’s. Bright and molten as the sun at dusk.

“…There was some trouble two days ago. I aided a girl trying to leave behind some people who hurt others. Who hurt her. They had some less than scrupulous plans for the future and had already bypassed local authorities to get where they were by the time I crossed them. So I reached out for some assistance.” And, because he felt the air prickling with observation, “Your Father was very keen to educate them on the difference between the laws of other lands versus the Law of his land. And your Mum has always been of a rescuer’s bent as a rule. So.”

“So Mum and Father caught them? Together?” The sunset eyes gleamed at the prospect.

“They did,” Jonathan nodded.

“Were they bandits?”

“Of a sort. But they won’t hurt anyone now.” Jonathan watched from the corner of his eye how the boy, so near to a young man, glowed over the notion of being a son to heroes.

He got to the tower before he felt his eyes begin to sting as sharply as his head.

#I'm beginning to think I simply cannot go more than 0.5 days without making a novella #oops #anyway enjoy the One and Only scenario in which Dracula and Mina would willingly work together on literally anything:#Their Damsel/Jonathan is in peril. Time to do some mauling about that.#anyway #jonathan harker #mina harker #dracula #dracula bad ending #blood of my blood #my writing

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