#when she dragged you through the castle mere moments after you gave birth?!

[stromuprisahat]

Alicent: *never explains how come she unexpectedly married Rhaenyra's father, move that gained her status and endangered Rhaenyra's*

Alicent: *has no qualms humiliating and insulting Rhaenyra and her children for over a decade*

Alicent: *refuses peace offering in a form of marriage*

Alicent: *smiling one moment, ploting against Rhaenyra the next*

Rhaenyra: Ok honey, I won’t kill that treacherous cunt of your father. I’ll think about your terms... UWU kissu-kissu!!!

#House of the Dragon #01×10: The Black Queen #Alicent Hightower #Rhaenyra Targaryen #V #HotD critical #This was so stupid! #Why would you even consider her terms?! #Because she sent you a pretty picture she kept?! #Why didn't she remember it #when she dragged you through the castle mere moments after you gave birth?! #THEY STOLE YOUR FUCKING THRONE! #Book!Rhaenyra was furious! #And rightfully so!

[fandom-puff]

Family, Duty, Honour (p2)

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Warnings: pregnancy/pregnancy symptoms including vomiting, prejudice towards dwarfism (discussion as to whether Tyrion and YN’s child will inherit his dwarfism; not a widely accepted condition in Westeros), childbirth, details of the death of Joanna Lannister (dying in childbirth/traumatic birth), reference to miscarriage

(Part 1)

Gif creds to owner

“Pardon me, Milord,”

Both Tywin and Tyrion turned around to see a young girl, one of your handmaidens, hurrying towards them, remembering a clumsy curtsey in her haste.

“Speak,” Lord Tywin said sternly, and the girl paled briefly before turning instead to his son.

“It’s Lady YN,” she said, and Tyrion instantly stood up straighter, even more on edge. “She’s… sick, my Lord. Can’t keep anything in her stomach, and just now she fainted,”

“Where is she?” Tyrion asked urgently.

“Her bedchamber, Milord. We got a squire to help her back into bed,”

As Tyrion made to hurry after the girl, Tywin’s hand rested firmly on his shoulder. “I will send the maester. He will prove whether or not you have done your duty to this family,”

***

“YN, my dear, can you hear me?”

Slowly, your heavy eyelids slid open, and you turned your head to the source of the noise. Smiling weakly, you squeezed your husband of two month’s hand.

“Are you alright, my lady wife,” he asked you gently, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

“I’m fine. I just got a little dizzy. Must have stood up too quickly,” you said gently, but you did not soothe Tyrion’s worry.

“Your handmaiden said you’ve been ill?” He prompted, and your cheeks heated slightly.

“It’s probably just… my women’s troubles,” you said quietly, still unused to talking about such delicate matters with anyone other than an old septa.

“Or lack thereof, lady Lannister?” The maester spoke up from the end of your bed and you frowned, about to say there really was no need for all this fuss. “The maids say your linen has been clean since your wedding night,”

Clean linen.

Those two words instantly reminded you of when Cousin Cat came to stay at Riverrun with her brooding husband. She had stayed for over a month, and halfway through her stay, you heard gossip of clean linen as you wandered the corridors of your home. Later on that year, she had birthed another child for Ned Stark.

“Does that mean…” you began.

The wisened maester smiled at your bewilderment. “Potentially. If my Lord and Lady are agreeable, I would like to examine lady Lannister to be certain,”

Tyrion smiled gently and kissed your hand once more. “I will give you some privacy, my dear,” he said, and once you nodded, he left the room to bang on the door to his father’s office.

***

“Have you put a babe in her belly?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes at his father’s callousness. “She is being examined as we speak,”

“Good,” Tywin said, hardly looking up from his paperwork. “You’d best hope she is with child and not ill. There aren’t many noble families willing to pawn off a daughter to us,” Tywin sighed and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit,” he said. “You clearly have something more to say,”

Tyrion was silent for a moment. “I do not want to lose her. She is young. Too young for… this,”

“She is only a few years younger than you. And besides, that didn’t stop you consummating the marriage, did it?”

If anything went on in Casterly rock, Tywin Lannister certainly knew about it within a day.

“No, it didn’t,” Tyrion said. You were nineteen after all, and you had consummated your marriage out of duty to your families.

The night-time visits, on the other hand…

“I’m scared that a baby will… that it will kill her,” Tyrion blurted out, and he could have sworn he saw some semblance of sympathy flash through his father’s eyes. “I am scared that my child will be too much like me. That it will rip her in two and kill her. That it won’t even live in her womb. That it will suffer. That… that she will suffer,”

Tywin stared long and hard at his youngest son, his bastard in all but name as far as he was concerned and sighed. “So am I,” was all he said, before gesturing to the door. And as he left the office, Tyrion knew that Tywin did not care for your suffering, for his suffering, or even for the child’s suffering. He cared only that his legacy remained.

***

Casterly Rock was alive with gossip.

No matter which corridor you walked down, people would stare, both openly and discretely at your belly, which barely showed thanks to the layers you wore (Tyrion insisted you wrapped up warm whenever you walked through the gardens, lest you catch a chill). You could not go a day without the maester inquiring about your general health, and when your swollen ankles were brought to your husband’s attention, he had the cobblers fashion you a pair of comfortable, yet fashionable flat shoes.

***

You were laying in your husband’s bed one night on the sixth moon of your pregnancy, a hand resting on your bump. “Leave the books, husband, and come to bed. I need you to tell your child to stop kicking me so we can all go to sleep. He seems to only listen to you,” Tyrion looked up from his books and sighed, shutting them over and coming to bed, his hand resting over yours. “You’ve gained a sudden interest in midwifery, I see,” you teased, but when he did not smile at your jest, you frowned. “What’s bothering you, husband?” You said gently.

“I…” Tyrion fumbled for the words, his eyes firmly on your belly. “I am frightened, YN,” he said quietly. “That the baby will… will have… will be a little too much like me.”

Of course. You cursed yourself for not even thinking that this could be plaguing your husband. You clasped Tyrion’s hand in yours. “Tyrion… even if the baby is born a dwarf, we will not treat him the way your father treated you,” you insisted, drawing small circles on the back of his hands.

“But what if it kills you like I killed my mother,” your heart ached for him, and you tipped his chin up to face you.

“Then you must promise me to love this child regardless,”

Tyrion’s heart ached. Neither of you had wanted this marriage, yet in the few short months you had been wed he had become fond of you, affectionate. He wanted to protect you from the horrors of a kingdom still reeling from the Rebellion that saw the end of the Mad King. He wanted to see you happy and comfortable and healthy. He would spend all of the gold in Casterly Rock to ensure your safety, despite the fact that your marriage was merely one of strategy arranged by his father and your uncle. You were still his wife, the most precious thing in his life.

But over the past nine months, he could do nothing to alleviate your discomfort. He could only hold back your hair and rub your back as you vomited, the only thing you could seemingly keep in your stomach was dried bread. When you could manage dining anywhere but your chambers, he ordered for the things that turned your stomach to be kept well away. When your legs and feet ached, he could only rub them in hopes of soothing the throbbing. When the baby kicked like mad at night, he rubbed your swollen belly so that you could rest, if only for a few moments at a time.

He watched as the veritable mountain that was your bump sapped you of your energy, and he knew there was nothing he could do to restore it.

And when the time came for you to birth the child, he knew his heart would ache even more as you laboured for hours in agony, with him unable to do anything to take the pain away.

***

You went into labour at night, your sharp gasp of pain as you heaved yourself out of bed waking your husband.

“My dear, are you alright?” He asked urgently, not groggy despite the fact he had been snoring like a boar just thirty seconds prior. As he lit a candle, he saw you grasping onto one of the bedposts, lips pressed together, suppressing your groan. “I will be back in a moment, YN, okay? I’m going to get help,”

“Hurry,”

True to his word, Tyrion returned a few moments later with a few sleepy maids and a septa, who laid fresh linen over the bed and began to send for boiling water. The maester was hot on their heels, scrambling to loop his chains over his neck, before shooing Tyrion and the maids out of the room.

Your groans and cries of pain permeated the walls of your bedchamber and down the hallways of Casterly Rock, and by sunrise, coins were being exchanged on the outcome of your labour. The smallfolk crowded near the walls of the castle, eager to call out prayers in hopes that the rich old lions felt generous after the birth.

Tyrion paced just outside of the room you were in, and every time a maid went in with fresh, boiled water and clean linen or came out with bloodstained cloths and empty bowls, he asked urgently how you were doing, but no one gave him an answer.

The septa left the birthing room, walking straight past the father of your child to… the grandfather. They talked in quick, hushed voices, that could not be heard over your pained cries, but Tyrion caught the two of them looking over their shoulder at him several times.

As the septa went back into the birthing room, Tywin walked over to Tyrion. He seemed to be in no apparent rush, his steps stately. Tyrion resisted the urge to scream at his father, to curse him for tormenting him while you laboured.

“When you were brought into the world,” he began, voice level and low, so Tyrion had to strain to hear what he was saying. “You were born, for lack of a better term, arse first. But then your shoulders got stuck inside the womb, and when you finally emerged, you dragged half of your mother’s womb out with you,”

Both men paled. Not only were they weak stomached when it came to the secretive world of a birthing chamber, but Tywin was plagued with memories from twenty or so years before, and Tyrion was plagued with guilt for killing his mother when he was a newborn, and fear that his child would do the same to you.

Tywin continued. “But the Septa has reported that the child is being born head first, as it should,” Tyrion nodded slowly. Tywin was about to continue when the door opened again.

“Pardon, Milords,” a maid carrying an armful of bloodied linen said. “Lady YN has asked for Lord Tyrion to… support her. The maester has permitted it, so long as Milord stays at the top end of the bed,”

Tyrion was frozen for a moment.

“Go,” Tywin said lowly, giving his son a small shove. “Your lady wife needs you now,”

Tyrion looked over his shoulder, and he was sure he could see a small glimmer of… sympathy in his father’s eye. Kindness even. And it was this look, paired with the shift in the way you screamed that had him running into the birthing chamber.

“Tyrion!” You sobbed, one hand reaching for him, the other reaching above you to grasp at the headboard. One of your trusted hand maids, who you had brought with you from Riverrun was at your other side, pressing a cool cloth to your forehead. Tyrion hurried to your other side, just in time for the maester to tell you to push, and the child was at last parted with your body.

All was silent for a tense few moments, until sharp cries filled the room. You could hear the cheering from the corridors.

“A boy, my lady,” the maester called out, and you sobbed for joy. “A healthy son. A little on the delicate side-”

“Is he-”

“No. He is not like you, my Lord. I delivered you and your siblings, and your son is exactly the size your brother was when he was born,”

“Can I hold him?” You whispered, your arms reaching out.

“Of course, my lady. He is your son,”

The child was handed to you, nuzzled against the bare skin of your breasts, his little cries soon petering out to soft snuffles of sleep. The maester left to deliver the good news to the Lord of Casterly Rock, but your world consisted only of Tyrion and your son.

“He’s perfect,” he said, letting out a relieved laugh. “And he’s going to tower over me when he’s a man grown,” You gave a laugh, happy tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your head on his shoulder. Tyrion pressed his lips to your temple. “You wonderful, wonderful woman, I love you,” he murmured. “I swear to you on the old gods and the new that I will protect you and my son from all harm,”

You rubbed your son’s back gently, not wanted to disturb his sleep and you looked up to your husband. “Thank you,” you whispered. Tyrion, my Lord husband. My love,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen @janelongxox @honeyofthegods @lxoxtxtxi @fullmoonshadowwrites

#tyrion lannister imagine #tyrion lannister x you #tyrion x you #Tyrion x reader #Tyrion Lannister x reader #request #2021 #family duty honor #part 2 #got #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine

[srose-foxfire]

Damirae Week 2021 - Day 7 (part 1)

“Finding Our Happily Ever After: Part 1” Day 7: Soulmates

All Raven could recall was standing before Damian about to confess she wanted to stay with him and his family, if he allowed her. The moments that followed after were in a blur, she had felt a pull from the skies and before long she was rising in the dark grey skies at a rapid speed. Raven looked down to see she was being pulled away from her friends and Damian. Scared, the young maiden called out for him, she heard him call back and bark an order towards her captor. Raven could also faintly remember seeing Sombra, trying to attack her captor but was wounded. The next thing she remembers was trying to punch and free herself from her captor, but she was then struck on her head rather hard making her lose conscious throughout the flight.

Overtime Raven would briefly wake up catching glimpses of the surrounding lands, as they approach a mountain.

When her senses came back and she fully awoke, Raven found herself to be inside a dark cave. It was too dark for any mere mortal to be able to look through but the part of her that held demon blood allowed her to see in the darkness. Raven slowly turned her head, skimming the area, as she tried to stand, she notices a tug come from her wrists and ankles. Looking down on herself, Raven had been tied onto a wooden chair, her wrists and ankles were tied rather very tightly, she notice red bruised marks stain her wrists . Raven tried to wiggle from her chair, when from the darkest part of the room, she heard the grunts of an older man.

The cave was lit with floating wax candles holding a green flame on them, making the room glow in green. Raven managed to see two figures standing close together from the direction she had heard the man come from. One was tall and well built, a man with his face hidden behind a black and orange mask. Next to him was an old woman, though she had a devil look in her eyes as if she shouldn’t be easily trifled with. This woman was dress in grey rags, almost appearing to be her dress, her long grey-hair was in locks pointing in different directions. She wasn’t pleasant to the eyes and might as well frighten any child.

Raven exhaled carefully, “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

The man laughed lightly, he took a step toward Raven, “my… you really cut to the chase, my dear.” He then bowed towards her, “I am Slade Wilson, and I have a proposition for you.”

Before Raven had a chance to inquire, the old woman next to him, place her weary old boney hand on Slade’s arm, “my lord, I must advice not to deal with the likes of her. Contracts with them come at a price, perhaps-”

“Quite hag,” Slade hissed through clenched teeth, then glanced at Raven who had her brows lifted, he gave her a gentle laugh, “apologies my dear. Like I was saying I have a proposition, if you choose to accept it, and I will free you from those binds.”

Not allowing herself to falter, Raven held her head high and spoke with a stern voice. “Listen, I don’t have anything to my name, if you know who I am, I’ve been exiled from my father’s lands. I hold no value-”

“Oh, but you do my dear, you absolutely do and that is why you should be wise to choose this offer of mine.” Slade clapped his hands together, looking over to the older woman, who mumbled some incoherent words and a large wooden chair appeared right in front of Raven, Slade then sat down, she could feel he was studying her through his mask.  

“Which is?” she then asked him.

The masked man, sighed heavily, “you have been staying with a certain and very peculiar family,” She could feel her heart picked up speed as she listened, her chest rised with disdain, and her face was starting to flush with anger as Slade continued, “the youngest child of said family… well he was given a birthright he did not deserve, well to make it short I want to employ you to help me bring him to ruin-”

Enrage, Raven glared and spoke the truth in her heart, “You are wasting your time with me; I will never turn against Damian or his family! They have given me more than my own father ever could… besides Gotham has been with the Wayne’s for generations, its Damian throne to take-”

“Shut her up.” Slade commanded with a hiss, the old woman who stood behind him muttered some words in another language Raven didn’t understand and her lips were sealed, Slade then rose from his chair and walked around her.

“Apologies but I hate interruptions. Yes, the little brat is the heir to rule over Gotham, but he was also given another birthright one he very carelessly gave away to his cousin. The kingdom of Nanda Parbat, a land inhabited by the world’s most elites of assassins, it’s former ruler was Ra’s al Ghul, had chosen his grandson, the one you know as Damian Wayne to take over his kingdom!” Frustrated, Slade then kicked the large wooden chair, across the room with a powerful kick.

The noise frightened the harpy as it screeched and flapped it wings from a corner, hoping around the room. The old woman hissed at it to quiet down, with a flick of her fingers tips the chair was rebuild and place across from Raven. Slade grabbed it and sat down, he clasped his hands on his lap and studied her, noticing Raven had her brows knitted together.

“You must wonder why I hate him so much, correct? Well I was the ‘Demon Head’s’ right man, he almost treated like a son… he once told me I was going to marry his daughter Talia, but what does he do instead? Create a ridiculous alliance with the kingdom of Gotham, King Bruce takes Talia in marriage and she gives birth to the little brat. That boy has stolen what was rightfully mine and gave it away like nothing.”

Slade then stood up, remove his mask to reveal a dark skinned man, with short white hair and a left eye covered by a piece of black leather, placed his hands on either side of Raven’s chair leaning ever so closely to her face, “I needed to have my revenge. That boy took everything away from me, so I took away everything he came to love. I had a cursed place on him, his family, and soon everyone came to forget that the kingdom of Gotham ever existed. Its people became like wind, it was like they never existed. I found pleasure knowing he would never get to experience true happiness… that is until…you came along.”

Raven’s chest was heaving as she strained to breath steadily, she could feel her blood start to boil and her head throb with rage. “You somehow manage to worm yourself into the castle and lighten the darkness I so perfectly designed for them. I had to come up with something else, something that would really bring that boy to his knees, and that is making you my bride.”

Slade started to caress her cheek with his hand, she turned and tried to lean away from his vile touch. Her mouth was beginning to fill with saliva and just for a split-second Raven felt strange. She had a feeling like she could overpower whatever had been placed onto her lips, she locked gaze with Slade’s, glared at him from underneath her lashes and then spit at him.

The older man groined and wipes his face with the back of his palm, the old woman gave out a horrible angry cry as she screamed, “you filthy wench! How dare you break my enchantment?!” Raven’s chair was lifted and flung towards the ceiling of the cave, Raven cried at the impact as she was dragged to the floor and up again. Then she was floating just above the old woman, with a flick of her old wrist, Raven was thrown across the cave, causing the chair she was tied on, to break at the impact.

“Stop it!” Slade yelled as he lifted his servant by the throat, then releasing her harshly. He turned and pointed his finger towards Raven. “You! Do you think you could ever live happily alongside a beast like him? Don’t you want to live a normal-human life with someone like me? I can give you that and so much more.”

“No… you can’t.” Raven strained to speak as her whole body was aching, she lifted herself off the ground with great difficultly, “Damian may be trapped in a beast’s body but even he has shown more compassion and kindness from any demon I have ever met! He is no beast, you are!”

“Enough! I employed this witch long time ago to curse him, now for being a thorn on my side you will perish!”

The old woman cackled and her fingertips sparked with green magic, “oh, what great pleasure you give me my lord to slay a sorceress of Azarath.” Azarath?

“Don’t you dare, hurt her!”

That voice! Raven turned around to what was hopefully the cave’s only exit and to see him magnificently riding on Titus, like a white knight riding on his noble steed. Damian hopped off from Titus, as they both snarled and growled at Raven’s captors.

“Damian!” Raven cried happily.

Slade laughed, “Well now, isn’t this a sight! The beast man with his beast dog!” He then unsheathes a sword he had on his hip and pointed it towards Damian, “You want the girl, you will have to go through me!”

“You will pay for what you did to her and to my family!” Damian yelled. He leaped towards Slade, swinging his claws to land a hit.

The harpy who had been standing nearby flew up and dive to attack Damian but was interrupted as Titus manage to bite one of its winged arms. The harpy cried out and kicked Titus on his muzzle, then tried biting him in return. When she missed used her clawed feet to puncture his shoulder. Titus effortlessly evade each attack, then lodged its fangs onto one of the harpy’s foot and swung it in his mouth like a doll. He then let go, causing the harpy to be thrown across the cave, it shrieks and cried painfully flying away, abandoning it mistress.

Titus barked proudly and ran towards Raven as they watched Damian continue to battle Slade. “You cause me my pet!” Raven turned around and notice the witch was flying towards her, Raven through herself away from the attack and Titus tried to swing his paw at her. The witch shot a bolt of her green magic and Titus whimper as he was struck. Angry, Raven stood and ran towards the witch as she managed to tackle her to the ground. They rolled on top of each other, Raven had the upper hand given to her youth and her own will to survive this terrible ordeal. But the witch had magic and she started chanting some words making Raven float away from her and then launching her like she had done before with the chair. Raven rolled a few feet away, she glanced up as the witch floated slowly towards her.

“Your mother turned me into this! She took away my beauty because I used it to lure men to their dooms, now it is time for me to have my revenge!” She raised her hands up, green sparks going off as she chanted a spell. Raven lifted her hands to shield herself, when she heard a whoosh sliced through the air. Slowly Raven, opened her eyes and widen them when she saw that the witch had been impacted by Slade’s sword. It had entered through her back and the tip managed to pierce through the front of her chest. She slowly floated down to the ground, standing still. The witch then slowly turned around still with the sword embedded through her as she glanced towards Slade. “My lord? Why…?”

“Our deal is off; you are no longer any use for me.”

Damian quietly moved around Slade as he approached Raven, he used his body to shield her from their enemies. He slowly pushed her towards the path he and Titus had come from. The witch continues to walk towards Slade, then pointed her long pointy finger. “You traitor,you dare double-cross a witch, all of you will never see the light of day, I cursed thee all to be buried in this cave!” Her whole body illuminated and burst into green and black ashes, the cauldron started to boil and erupted around the entire room. Which cause the cave to rumble and some stalactites fell all around them.

“Let’s go!” Damian yelled as he grabbed Raven’s hand and together ran along the path to exit the cave. Titus ran up ahead, managing to evade pillars of rocks tumbling down, at some point Damian lifted Raven in his arms and carried her off most of the path. As they near the exit, some rocks came lose, falling right at the foot of the entrance to the cave. Damian stopped, placed Raven down and then jumped on top the nearest boulder, he turned and reached for her hands to help her climb. Titus effortlessly jumped and stood near an opening big enough for them to pass through. When Raven reached the top, she reached out her hand to grab Damian’s paw, for a second her looked at her and couldn’t help but smile towards her.

Then out of nowhere Damian screamed out a roar of pain, one hand clawing the air around him. Raven glanced to Damian’s side and saw Slade had reached them and had use a dagger to pierce Damian. The young curse prince had lost his footing and grip, causing Raven to hold onto him as tightly as she could and not let him fall. Slade used this opportunity to stab Damian again, but he too lost his footing and pulled Damian down with him.

“Damian!” Raven cried as she watches him tumbled down and roll a few feet away from where they had started to climb. She and Titus hopped down the to the floor and running to Damian’s side. She knelt down and gently picked up his head in her hands, trying to shield him from the small debris. Titus stood next to them, using his own large body as a shield for his master and the young girl. The only entrance they had was covered by more rocks, trapping them inside the cave.

“You lost, you lost it all!” Slade exclaimed happily as he tried to stand up straight, with shaky legs started walking towards them. “I was never going to let you live a happy life! You deserved this; oh, you so deserve this!” Slade chanted madly, all reason was gone, now before them was an old man filled with utter madness. Above them a large cracking sound was heard, gazing right above him a large stalactite broke from the roof and landed right where Slade had stood.

The cave continued to crumble around them. Damian was heavily panting, trying to minimize how much in pain he was in. “Save yourselves,” he whispered through painful breaths.

“I am not leaving you.” Raven answered him as she cradle his face. There has to be a way. Raven thought. She turned and turned her head all around her hoping to see something that could save them. But there was nothing, all was truly lost as Slade had said, was this truly what they were fated for from the start? Was the grand design of the universe this cold-hearted towards them in wanting to have a happy life? Wanting to hold on to what had brought her happiness for a short moment of her life, Raven felt that feeling again when she had broken the witch’s enchantment on her lips. It felt peaceful and warmth almost, just like when she had been visited by that strange woman cloaked in white. Without even knowing it herself Raven whispered;

“Azarath… Metrion… Zinthos.”

A dark purple circle suddenly appeared on the ground around them. As more cracks were heard from the cave’s ceiling, she saw some stalactites break, coming down rapidly targeting them. The circle then emitted dark looking shadows that looked like black tentacles wrapping around Raven and her friends. She closed her eyes waiting for their death but then opened them and looked at Damian. If she were to die, she wanted to see him one last time. Then they were  all engulfed by  shadows.

#damirae week 2021 #damirae #beauty and the beast au #Damian Wayne #raven roth #raven and robin #raven and damian #damian and raven

[m0chisenpai]

Hong Kong Garden

Oberyn Martell x young!Reader x Ellaria Sand

Chapter 1

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,969

Oberyn Martell loved a party. He flourished in them and frequented them often as well. But this one in particular made him bitter. He would love nothing more than to leave and return to his home beneath the sun where his paramour and beloved Sands were. Ellaria was forced to stay in Dorne while his brother Doran practically dragged him to the celebration of House Tyrell’s youngest lady. 

The celebration took place not in Highgarden but in another castle not far from the home of the Tyrell family. Lord Mathias Tyrell sat beside his brother and mother overlooking the festivities of his daughter's celebration. Acrobats twisted their bodies on raised platforms, Fools made groups of nobles chortle, a glorious feast was spread for the taking, and tables filled with riches and treasures were piled high for the young Lady Tyrell.

The young woman was to turn 20 on her Name Day, but Oberyn had no desire to spare any kindness to the roses. Oberyn didn’t even spare the girl a glance nor catch a glimpse of her. According to his brother they needed to show some courtesy as they were there for much more than a celebration. They were there for diplomacy to seal the rift between the Tyrells and Martells. 

When his brother cut him from her bitter thoughts Oberyn looked from his cup of wine.

“What did you say?”

Doran exhaled through his nose, “I said have you paid your respects to Lady Y/N?”

“Is it not your job as the oldest to partake in diplomacy?”

“It is much more than diplomacy, Oberyn. The girl did not choose to be born of roses, give her just a bit of your kindness.”

And with a childish whine and heavy sigh Oberyn approached the Tyrell’s table which seemed to overlook the many others. Damn his brother for his wisdom. 

“Prince Oberyn”

“Lady Olenna” he bowed to the older woman one arm behind his back “I wish to give wishes and blessings to the young Lady of the house.”

“Ah, you have just missed her. She ran off in the gardens again, I’ll have her fetched for.” Her father spoke up this time over a glass of wine. Lord Mathias lived up to the rumors of being the living embodiment of greed. His fingers adorned with intricate rings, his robes made of the finest silks with intricate golden designs on red fabric. 

“Allow me to retrieve her then perhaps?”

“And just what are you intending if you find my daughter Prince Oberyn?” The dark haired maiden finally spoke up. She was nearly as beautiful as his dear paramour with skin just as bronze only a shade darker, and her curly hair tamed into a high bun with intricate hair ornaments. 

Unlike her husband she gave the young Prince a warm smile which he returned. 

“Hopefully bestow upon her a simple  blessing for her name day my lady.” Oberyn Martell bowed his head in respects as one of the servant boys led him to the entrance of the garden.

The garden was its own unique maze of beautiful plants and flowers that flourished under the warm sun. Had the young prince’s heart not been bitter with hatred for the family he would come to love this castle of the Reach.  A hand unconsciously brushed against one of the flower delicate petals and he uprooted the flower holding it to his nose and releasing it upon hearing hushed voices.

A bell like laugh accompanied by light moans led the prince to what he could only assume to be the heart of the garden. The servant boy bowed to the prince and quickly left. A beautiful fountain made of stone with delicate patterns and two statues of goddess-like women in the middle. And in front of this beautiful fountain was the young Lady of this castle. 

To say Lady Y/N was a mere Tyrell would be an insult. Yes the young Martell hated everything living being bearing the last name Tyrell, but it was hard to believe this beautiful, young, vibrant creature shared the last name. 

The young woman was a nymph. Little flowers stuck in her beautiful thick curls, her skin looked to be blessed by the very suns of Dorne like her mothers, and her beautiful plump lips were ensnared by a woman far from her age. Her fingers curled into the young Tyrell’s curls. For a moment he imagined the pasty elder woman was his beautiful Ellaria. Her nimble fingers curled into the young Tyrell’s hair. Her gleaming eyes gazing into Oberyn who would watch with hungry eyes.

“My lady please” Lady Tyrell’s gasps ended his fantasies. Oje would blindly assume Lady Tyrell was truly indulging in this mysterious maidens lips, but truth be told he could see far from it. Her face was blank, not a crease to her brow and those light gasps and moans were far from real pleasure. The woman’s lips nipped at the base of her neck leaving very faint dark marks and stopped at a delicate lace blue ribbon that was pulled by her skillful lips pooling in the young girl's lap.

“Hush now darling girl, allow me to bestow this gift unto you” The elder lady kissed her way back to her lips. Her hands slid a small jewelry box into the nymphs lap catching her attention. She lifted it and the young Tyrel lifted out a necklace adorned by diamonds glistening in the sun. 

“Diamonds” her eyes glistened at the sparkling jewelry, “my lady, you didn’t have to! ”

“What better way to celebrate the turning of a new age.” She slid the necklace around the girl's neck pecking along her shoulders as she did so “and not only this. I have plenty more to come in just two weeks time.”

Lady Tyrell gasped, pressing her hand against her diamond covered chest, “you spoil me.” She wasn’t complaining. She loved her Name Day for it was a day she got to enjoy watching lords and lady’s turn into mere mindless fools throwing treasure upon treasure at her feet to get a mere fraction of her affection. She had more than enough diamonds to spare. But what’s the harm in building her collection? Her mother took to taking care of the gardens to satiate her boredom, she just happened to collect hearts and diamonds for her own amusement. 

“No my dear girl you spoil me. Now enjoy your date of birth darling girl. My father awaits me.” With one last kiss the woman stood leaving Lady Tyrell alone in front of the fountain looking through the sparking gems.

Finally Oberyn stepped out after calling the beating in his chest, and trying to ignore the fire in the pit to this stomach “Lady Tyrell.”

“Lord Martell” quickly slid the jewelry box off her lap and fussed with the collar of her dress as the man stopped in front of the young girl. She’d been caught twice, both by her grandmother who cared little about her granddaughter being caught with a woman in bed. 

Today would be the first time she was caught, and not scolded. Instead the Martell gave her a smile which she was wary of. She knew men liked pretty things. And she knew men knew how to get everything their gluttonous little hearts desired.

“Please, Oberyn when it is just the two of us.” With a smile she patted the stone of the mountain and Oberyn took her invitation to sit beside her on the fountain. His hands carefully scooped the discarded ribbon stuffing them into the pockets of his trousers. 

“As you wish then, Oberyn” she tilted her head to look up at him “I thought your older brother bestowed his gift. The wine of Dorne tastes like a gift from the gods.”

“Ah yes, I unfortunately was not able to witness your tasting of it yet.”

“Perhaps you shall soon I’ve yet to taste it” she grinned looking back into the water where she watched a loose petal drift into the water. 

“You indulge in the delights of the gods I see.” 

She tilted her head to gaze up at the prince through full eyelashes, “should I not? I am of ripe breeding age as my father likes to remind me. Soon I will be married off to an old fool to be his treasure. Until that day comes I must have my own fill until I am bound to another” Though her words were solemn she held no fear, no anger, no sadness. Just a smile as she observed a pair of diamond earrings in the glowing sunlight.

She knew she was doomed to a loveless marriage. But she never feared it because she would merely amuse her fool of a husband in exchange for every single thing her heart desired while she found warmth in the arms of many lovers. Her grandmother had been preparing her for this day since she had her first flowering and her body blossomed from a childs to a woman’s body. She taught her how to turn from stable boys and milk maids to Lords and Lady’s and get much more than a quick fuck. She learned how to receive gorgeous silks, secret bonds, and beauties from the Seven Kingdoms in exchange for warmth in her bed and her lips keeping the secrets she knew from falling into the wrong hands.

“You would love Done. There one is free to love whoever and how many one chooses, and follow their own hearts desires” as he spoke the girl's eyes briefly met Oberyn’s “I wonder what your heart desires.”

“Love is temporary, and for fools” She returned the jewels back into the box “no one will truly be able to fulfill my heart's desire. I am too much for any man, and woman. But a paradise free from shame sounds like somewhere I would love to escape to.”

The longing look in her eyes made the prince's lips turn into a smirk. Her gaze shifted to look up at the beautifully carved statues of the fountain, and Oberyn shifted his own eyes to look up at it.

“If I may ask, did your father have this fountain built?”

“When I was no more than five. I begged for something to bring life into these gardens and my father had this fountain created. The statues are of resemblance to my mother and I.”

That was the day her grandmother taught her the power of the smile, and the power of reading one's eyes. She was merely six and with a bat of her lashes, a pout upon her lips, and a few sweet words her father asked whom she would like to be in the fountain.

“A beautiful woman indeed, though not born here?” 

“Somewhere among Westeros I believe” her fingers dropped the diamond necklace and she stood cradling the box of jewelry in her arms “but surely you did not come here to hear my tales of woe. Come share a glass with me. I wish to see if the rumors of Dorne’s wine are merely tall tales.”

“If it is your wish I shall grant.”

”Then I have but one more wish to ask of you Oberyn” she pulled a flower from her locks to place it behind the prince's ear, her hand slid to rest just below his golden necklace “join me at dawn tomorrow here in the gardens. I wish to hear about life outside these old walls.”

She caught her hand placing it right where his heart was. And in that moment Y/N Tyrell could not read the look in the Prince’s fiery eyes. Nor could she decipher the next sentence that fell from his lips. 

“You shall have it, my flower.”

#oberyn martell x ellaria sand x reader #oberyn martell x reader #hong kong garden #oberyn martell #ellaria sand #ellaria x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[barpurplewrites]

Soul Deep

For @maplesyrupao3 who sent me a delightfully horrific prompt.

WARNINGS for BODY HORROR. TRANSFORMATION.

It’s dark dearies, but there is fluff and a happy ending.

-x-x-x

“It’s forever, dearie.”

Belle glanced at her father. Some of the tension that had been present in his posture since the arrival of the Dark One had eased. His eyes darted briefly towards Gaston and he gave her a stern glare. She knew exactly what he wanted, but in this moment the choice was hers. She would never get a chance like this again.

She turned her eyes back to the Dark One who was waiting for her answer with his head cocked to one side. There was no doubt in her mind that he was confident of her answer, but she had to say the words to seal the deal.

“Then I will go with you forever.”

The Dark One clapped his hands and giggled; “Congratulations on winning your little war.”

Gaston began blustering and posturing, but Belle noticed he didn’t physically try to prevent the Dark One leading her out of the room. Belle bit back a small smile. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it, but she was escaping.

 Belle had given a little thought to what would happen once they reached the Dark Castle. They had wandered through the corridors and rooms and the Dark One idly pointing out a few of his treasures. He was showing off, but it was clear that he had every right to, the Golden Fleece was no mere trinket. He answered some of her questions, others he brushed off, but he never once told her off for her curiosity. It was a heady feeling for Belle, to be listened too. ‘A lady should be seen and not heard’ had been drummed into her since birth.

The dungeon had come as a surprise and she kicked herself for not realizing that was where they were heading. She should have known that the Dark One wouldn’t want to display her like on of his treasures, she was here to work not to look pretty. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, all her life people had admired her for her beauty. She snorted to herself as she tried to find a comfortable position on the narrow cot. Her looks might not have garnered such admiration if people knew of the price that came with them.

Belle frowned at the course of her own thoughts. Since her mother’s death there had been a hole, no more like a cloud in her mind. There was something important trapped within the swirling mist. Something to do with her beauty, and the price of love. Bits and pieces would slip through occasionally, but Belle could never make sense of the strange snippets of information. Whatever it was it was connected to her greatest shame; her Mother’s dead and she did her best not to dwell on that terrible day to often for fear of slipping back into the debilitating despair that had engulfed her in the weeks after.

She took a look at the stark walls of her dungeon, hopefully the Dark One would have something for her to do else she would have nothing by time to think.

 -0-

 “…and skin the children I hunt for their pelts.”

Belle gasped and the cup she was about to give him fell from her hands.

“That one was just a quip. Not serious, dearie.”

She nodded, relived that she wouldn’t have to do something so disturbing. When she knelt to pick up the cup she had another moment of panic.

“It’s chipped. You can hardly see it.”

Rumplestiltskin frowned and dismissively twirled a hand; “It’s just a cup.”

When she returned the tea tray to the kitchen Belle noticed that she’d lost three fingernails. There was no pain, but the nails looked as if they had been torn off. Had she caught them on something? She must had done, but no matter how she searched around the kitchen she could find no place that she could have injured herself. She tapped the bare finger ends against the wood of the table. The impact didn’t hurt at all.

Belle shuddered the relentlessly logical part of her mind was telling her that she knew exactly what was happening. She stomped hard on those thoughts. Whatever it was, it was tied up in the misty memory hole in her mind. She would not think about it.

She simply must have snagged the nails at some point. Lack of decent food had made the nails weak and they had torn away painlessly. Yes, that must be it, a perfectly sensible explanation.

 -0-

 “What are you doing?”

“Opening these! It's almost spring, we should let some light in.” She gave the heavy curtains another hard tug, “What did you do, nail them down?”

Rumple shrugged; “Yes.”

Belle huffed, had he never heard of curtain rails, did he honestly think that the strip of loops along the top hem were just a strange decoration. She rolled her eyes fondly and gasped as her left arm withered before her eyes. From the tips of her fingers to her shoulder her skin shrivelled as the flesh dissolved beneath. The shock loosened her grip on the ladder and she tumbled backwards with a strangled cry.

“Umph!”

She blinked at Rumple. He had caught her. How he glittered in the sunlight now streaming through the window. He looked stunned, as if he’d not seen the light in such a very long time.

“Um, erm thank you.”

He looked down at her and gulped before rapidly set her on her feet. Belle was certain he was going to say something about her arm. Instead Rumple just swung his arms like a nervous school boy before he nodded curtly and headed back towards his wheel. Belle looked down at her arm, he couldn’t have missed the change, especially with all the extra light in the room.

“I'll, uh, put the curtains back up.”

Rumple looked up at the window and gave her a brief smile; “No need. I’ll get used to it.”

Belle was puzzled. She spent a few moments rubbing her arm while Rumple began to spin. There was no denying it, her left arm was nothing more than skin and bone. She gave her head a shake and bent to gather up the dusty curtain, maybe it didn’t look as bad as she thought it did. She hefted the fabric ball into her arms with a happy hum, the strength of the limb wasn’t affected, so did it really matter what it looked like?

That niggling voice deep in her mind tried to draw her attention to why she was changing, but as long as she kept busy it was easy to ignore.

It was easy to remain in her state of denial, even as the withered flesh began to spread from her shoulder to the left side of her face. With Rumple’s habit of keeping the mirrors covered she hardly every caught sight of her reflection. The silver tea tray was polished to a fine shine, but she’d quickly mastered loading it with pot, jug and cups without looking down.

Rumple never commented on the changes she was undergoing. Not once did she catch him staring at the bony digits and their brittle corpse-white skin. His gaze never seemed to linger on the rotting side of her face either. Maybe he simply didn’t care for the beauty of women? Perhaps he felt that her horrific appearance was in keeping with the fearsome persona he so carefully cultivated in the outside world.

Whatever the reason, his indifference to her appearance gave her a freedom she’d never had before. She could slouch, sit on the table, or snort with laughter all without worrying how it must look to the man in the room. She amazed herself at how bold she truly was, nobody back in Avonlea would have believed that their pretty, perfect princess would chastise the Dark One, or trade off-colour quips with him.

 -0-

 One morning a strange blonde woman marched into the castle dragging a pirate behind her. The pirate had recoiled from Belle and muttered something about how she must have had some work done in storybook which made no sense at all. Rumple had snarled and shooed her away telling her to go and read or dust or whatever. As she left she overheard something the woman said. Well, she’d overheard Rumple’s reaction to whatever the woman had said, - “You’re trying to tell me I fall for the help?” A shudder ran through her and shapes began to form in the mist of her mind, until she heard Rumple tell his guests not to be ridiculous. He never mentioned the blonde and her pirate again and Belle was more than happy to follow his lead.

 -0-

 The only time she could not avoid her appearance was when other people were in the castle. Even in the depth of pain that Rumple had inflicted upon him the thief found strength enough to comment. He was quite kind about it.

“What has that monster done to you? Come with me, lady, we can find a healer for you.”

“I have to stay, if I leave my people will be in danger.”

It was a vague enough statement, but the truth. No one broke a deal with the Dark One, although as she helped the thief stagger from the castle she wondered what he thought were the particulars of her deal with Rumple. Goodness only knew what rumours would start flying around, she’d worry about that should any of them come to Rumple’s ears.

She’d not expected for Rumple to drag her into the woods to find the thief. The deep hood of her cloak only concealed most of her ravaged face if she kept her head turned, but on meeting Nottingham she quickly decided that taking her eyes off him would be unwise. The Sheriff obviously saw enough that he liked to try and buy ten minutes of her time from Rumple.

“Bag over her head and she’ll do, y’know?”

She’d been tempted push back her cloak and show her arm just to watch the boorish fool swallow his tongue at the sight of the rest of her. Rumple beat her to that punch by magicking the organ from his mouth.

When Rumple missed the thief, with a bow that never missed no less, Belle wasn’t sure if she was hugging him in thanks for that kindness, or for not whoring her to Nottingham. It was both she supposed. She was sure he was blushing when she looked back to ask him if he was coming home.

That night as she brushed her hair she found huge hanks were tangling around the bristles. Exploring her head with her hand she discovered that the rot had spread across her scalp. With no cushion of hair, she could feel each and every bump of her skull. Her left ear was a shrunken flap, that felt strangely crinkly. She finished brushing what was left of her hair with a sigh. She’d have to get creative with her braiding tomorrow.

As she climbed into bed she wondered why she wasn’t more disturbed by the alterations happening to her. The ladies of her father’s court had constantly mourned their fading beauty, often long before the fading had begun. Belle had envied them. Theirs was to be a gentle decline into aging, and no matter what the shallow and vain men of the court thought the older ladies were beautiful. Father had said that Belle was lucky, her beauty would last a life time.

Belle grinned into the dark. Father had been wrong about that. In the quiet of the night it was harder to ignore that desperate voice that wanted her to think about what was happening. She stubbornly refused to acknowledge the half answers the voice was presenting. It was foolish and impossible, of that she was sure. Belle might enjoy reading stories, but she damn well knew that life was never so simple. She bit her lip as she considered and grinned again when a better answer rose to the surface of her mind. Rumple had mentioned that fairy magic didn’t mix well with his own, so it must be her proximity to him that was eroding the Blue Fairy’s spell.

Happy with her thinking she rolled over and snuggled down to sleep. After less than a minute she flipped onto her right side. There was no way she’d been able to sleep with the crinkly sounds her left ear was making against the pillow. Before she drifted off into sleep she wondered why she thought that the Blue Fairy had anything to do with her condition but come the morning she didn’t recall thinking about Reul Ghorm at all.

 -0-

 “Why did you want me here?”

Rumple picked up his tea cup and cradled it between his hands. He was insisting on using the cup she’d chipped on her first day here. Belle kept wanting to tell him to be careful, but she’d seen him pull arrows out of his chest without spilling a drop of blood, she figured he could handle a little cut from some chipped crockery.

“The place was filthy.”

“And the great magic of the Dark One can’t deal with a little dust?”

He gave her one of his mischievous looks; “Do you know what the price is for using magic for dusting?”

She shook her head. Rumple leaned in closer as if what he was about to say was a great secret.

“Twice as much dust.”

Belle giggled. She wasn’t sure if he spoke the truth or not, but she had lived her in the castle long enough to know that magic could be contrary. It was believable that magic would happily make twice the work for being used for something so mundane. Thinking about dusting made her recall the room she had found as she had worked her way down the East corridor with the broom.

“You haven’t always been alone here have you. I, erm, I found a room, with a child’s clothing.”

Rumple’s shoulders tensed; “Hum. The owner of those clothes has never set foot in this castle. They belonged to my son.” He gave Belle a brief glance, “I may tell you about him, some day.”

She didn’t press the matter. She knew his moods well enough by now and to insist on the story now would only send him running to his tower for days on end. She sipped her tea and let her legs swing. Was it her imagination or was her left shoe getting looser? The rot had begun creeping down her leg, but this morning her foot had looked fine. Damn it, if her foot shrivelled she’d have to ask Rumple for new shoes, or maybe she could get away with doubling up on her stockings?

The silence between them was comfortable, but eventually Rumple broke it.

“Why did you agree to come here, with me?”

Belle hopped down from the table and felt her foot slip in her left shoe. The rot had spread, oh well she’d managed for now. Carefully she took Rumple’s cup from him and set about refilling them from the pot. Her reasons were linked to the mist of her lost memories, but these ones were clear, sharp and painful. She debated spouting something about seeing a chance to be a hero, but found that the truth was more appealing.

“Before I came here I made a mistake. A huge mistake.”

As she added the ridiculous amount of sugar Rumple favoured, she glanced at him. There was no judgement on his face, in fact if she had to put a name to the emotion written on his scaly features, she’d say it was understanding.

“I saw depth in a man that in truth is shallower than a puddle.”

Rumple took his cup from her hand; “Your intended, perchance?”

“Gaston, yes. He wanted to make his name, a life of great deeds that the bards would sing about for lifetimes to come.”

She raised her cup to her lips and hissed as the steam hit her face. As she was blowing to cool the brew Rumple took the opportunity to say; “I know a thing or two about how legends are made and marrying a fair princess will only get the bards singing for a week, two tops if there’s enough free ale at the wedding feast.”

Belle would have snorted but she was concentrating on not dribbling her tea. Half withered lips did nothing for one’s table manners.

“I was only part of his plan he wanted to make his name in an epic battle, but Avonlea was at peace.”

Understanding dawned on Rumple’s face; “Provoking the ogres. That is an old ploy. How exactly did he do it?”

Belle sighed and hopped back onto the table top; “He trapped an ogre child in a pit and beat it half to death.”

She heard Rumple’s knuckles crack as his grip closed on his tea cup. She eased it out of his hands before he shattered it. He flexed his fingers and inhaled deeply.

“I’m surprised your little kingdom lasted long enough for you to call me. But Gaston’s actions when his own, how is this your mistake?”

Belle took a shuddering breath. She could hardly think of this without crying. This was edging as close as she dared to the lost memories. If only she had listened to Mother, but what had she said? Belle didn’t want to sink into that state of depression again. Before she could speak her deepest shame there came a pounding knock at the front doors.

Rumple whined; “Who the bloody hell is that?”

He awkwardly patted Belle’s shrivelled hand and jumped from his perch on the table; “Let’s see what desperate fool dares to interrupt our teatime.”

In between one step and the next Rumple went from what Belle thought of as his home persona into the Dark One. She wiped her eyes and followed him out in to the entrance hall. Rumple opened the doors with a dramatic wave of his hand. Belle’s fond smile at his antics faded as the figure on the doorstep spoke.

“I am Sir Gaston, and, you beast, have taken… Belle?”

Belle refused to shy away. Gaston’s eyes roved over her and his face curled into a grimace of disgust. He shivered; “Keep her, beast, she’s not fit to be seen.”

“How rude.”

The ruddy smoke that was Rumple’s magical trademark wrapped around Gaston and cleared to reveal a single red rose. He stooped to retrieve it from the step and swivelled on the ball of his foot to offer it to Belle.

“If you’ll have it?”

Belle eyed it warily; “It’s not going to turn back, or start talking is it?”

“Dead men tell no tales, dearie.”

Her breath started coming faster, but before the panic could take hold Rumple stepped in closer to her.

“This one is on me, Belle. I find everything out eventually and I would have made him suffer for his actions. This was quick.”

He twirled the rose stem between his fingers and offered it to her again. She took it from him and returned the courtly bow he gave her with a curtsey.

“You gave him to much credit when you compared him to a puddle. Honestly, rejecting you just because of a practical dress, shallow fool.”

Belle found herself smiling as he strolled by her back to his wheel. He had to know that Gaston had been disgusted by her withered appearance, but his quip had made her feel better. Rumple could be quite sweet when he wanted to be.

She twirled the rose between her fingers as Rumple had done. She couldn’t find it in herself to mourn Gaston’s demise, not when she had spent considerable time plotting to slit his throat on their wedding night or praying for an arrow to find him on the battle field.

She winced as she took a step. Her shoe was very uncomfortable now. She could hear the spinning wheel creaking, so she took a moment to unbuckle her shoe and rub at her foot. One glance told her that her leg was now withered right down to her toes. A few wiggles confirmed that everything was in working order, but her shoe was at least a size to big. Belle knew she was clumsy enough without this added nuisance.

A tendril of magic twined around the shoe in her hand. Belle looked up to find Rumple smiling shily from the doorway.

“They’ll always be comfortable for you now.”

“And the price?”

“This is for self-preservation. I’m far too old to be catching you all the time.”

Belle giggled and was pleased to see Rumple join in with one of his ordinary sounding chuckles. He stopped abruptly and stared at the doors.

“Tea for two please Belle, and no apple tarts.”

She hurriedly slipped her shoe back on, it fitted perfectly. When she looked up Rumple had one of his spikiest dragonhide coats on. That made sense, he only ever banned apple from the table when Regina was about to visit.

 -0-

 Belle lingered at the door for a moment. She’d always been taught that eavesdropping was beneath a lady, but it was very useful for a maid who wanted to be sure there were no fireballs being hurled. Regina had been getting more and more short-tempered recently, and while it amused Rumple no end, she wasn’t keen on getting singed.

“…something to deal with a troublesome mermaid.”

“I wasn’t aware that your dear step-daughter had grown a tail and fins.”

Belle decided it was as safe as it was going to be to enter the room.

“Not all of my problems revolve around that ungrateful little brat. I do have other interests.”

Rumple’s fingers were tented under his chin and he was staring at the queen with polite disbelief. Belle had time to set the tray on the table and pour two cups of tea before Regina snapped; “Fine! If you must know the mermaid is helping Snow White and I want to make an example of the dangers of such an association.”

Belle’s right side had been facing the queen, who had been totally ignoring her. When Belle turned to hand her the tea cup Regina glanced at her and scowled.

“Honestly Rumple. How can you bear to have that serve your tea? Who knows what bits she’d dropped into it.”

Regina waved the offered tea away, her elegant face twisted in revulsion. Belle just shrugged and moved to give Rumple his cup.

“Unlike you Regina I can trust my servant, without taking extreme measures.”

Regina replied with a snort; “So, are you going to help me, or not?”

Rumple’s hands danced in the air; “That would be not, dearie,” – he pointed at the door, - “you know how to use the door.”

The queen huffed like a pouting brat and flounced to her feet. She spared Belle another sneer before she swept out of the room. Rumple smiled at Belle over the rim of his cup; “Quite the compliment that she thinks you’d try to poison me, that’s one of Regina’s favourite tricks.

“That would be a criminal thing to do to a good cup of tea, Rumple.”

Just beyond the door Regina’s eyebrows rose in surprise. There was something very strange going on between Rumple and his rotting skeleton of a maid. She swept silently out of the Dark Castle, meddling mermaids could wait, this was much more interesting.

-0-

 The rot now encased most of Belle’s body. Only her right hand was as it had been. Rumple had still not made any comment, not a whisper, or vaguest hint that he had even noticed her change. If any of the visitors to the castle referred to her looks, Rumple would call them rude as he had from the start. She had caught a slight look of puzzlement on his face once or twice after the blunter comments, yet still he didn’t speak of it.

Belle wanted him to talk about it. She’d been content in the way they both ignored her condition until now, it had made the changes easier for her to accept. Now, she needed Rumple to notice, to see her as she was and say, say something, anything.

There was an irony in that; all her life people had only valued her for her looks, she’d grown weary of the flattering comments that thinly veiled the conviction she was worth nothing more than her beauty. ‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about it’, ‘Just smile and look radiant, I’ll do the rest’, ‘The perfect adornment for a hero’s arm’.

Rumple never spoke to her in that fashion, in fact he didn’t talk to her, he talked with her. He listened to her, considered her thoughts and feelings. Oh, he teased and bickered as well, but it was never cruel, dry and biting frequently, but never cruel. Rumple treated her in the way she had always dreamed a man would, and here she was wishing he would comment on her appearance.

With more force than was strictly needed Belle scrubbed Rumple’s shirt against the washboard. She was thinking like a proper princess again, being seen and not heard. If she wanted with Rumple about something there was nothing stopping her from raising the matter.

Once she had finished the laundry she would take him an early tea and ask him what he saw when he looked at her. She would do the brave thing, simple as that. Mother used to say that all the time, do the brave thing and bravery would follow. Belle shook the stray thought away and focused on getting, well whatever this stain was out of Rumple’s shirt.

 -0-

 Belle was just carrying her carefully prepared tea tray from the kitchen when Regina’s dulcet tones drifted down from the entrance hall. Belle muttered a very un-ladylike phrase under her breath. Never mind, she already had tea prepared and Rumple always got right of Regina quickly. As long as the queen didn’t sour his mood too much they would still be able to talk.

“…moaning. You’ll thank me for this.”

“Yes, because I always thank people for throwing fairy dust at me!”

Belle put all hopes of discussing her condition with Rumple to on side and stepped into the hall, with any luck she’d be able to deliver the tea tray and get out before those two started trading more than sharp words.

“Ah, here she is,” – Regina gave Belle a sickly-sweet smile, - “Now Rumple, do you see the truth of your precious little maid?”

Belle watched as Rumple blinked slowly and tilted his head to one side. The reason that he had never commented on her alteration hit her like a lightening bolt; he had never seen the changes, all this time he had seen her as she always had been, a beauty. She didn’t know what to say to him as she searched his face for the look of revulsion that she had become so used to on everyone she met.

Rumple blinked again and turned on the ball of his foot to glare at Regina.

“I see my maid,” – he jabbed a clawed finger at the queen, - “and I see a third-rate schemer who is wasting my time.”

Regina looked flabbergasted; “But that’s not possible she said that spell would lift the rose-tinted scales from your eyes.”

The Dark One advance rapidly on Regina and backed her against the wall; “Who said? Who have you been conspiring with, dearie?”

Regina batted Rumple’s finger out of her face and tried to side step him, but he moved with her to keep her pinned.

“I asked you a question, dearie, and I find my patience running thin.”

For all that Regina was affecting the appearance of boredom, Belle could see the tremble in her fingers. The queen was if not scared, then nervous, and with good reason Rumple was in full angry Dark One mode. When he was like this Belle was reluctant to approach him, she was certain he wouldn’t hurt her, but the slightest shadow of doubt was enough to make her edge back across the room towards his spinning wheel.

Regina finally rolled her eyes and huffed; “One of Blue’s disgruntled minions. She said that it sounded like your maid was under a curse, thought it must be powerful dark magic if it was fooling you,” – Regina’s posture shifted and her voice became a simper, - “I thought if you could see the despicable horror she really is then we could work together to examine the magic that made her that way.”

For a terrible second Belle thought Rumple might agree to the queen’s proposal. She didn’t dare contemplate what she’d be put through in the name of a magical examination.

Rumple stepped away from Regina with a snarl; “I’ve no interest in working with anyone who consorts with fairies. Get out.”

His amber eyes were locked on Belle pinning her in place as effectively as his body had trapped the queen. It surprised her that she wasn’t shaking, but this was Rumple, she was safe with him.

When Regina opened her mouth, Rumple tilted his head slightly without breaking eye contact with Belle and said; “Either leave on your own two high-heeled feet, or hop out as a toad, dearie.”

The rapid click of Regina’s heels echoed on the flagstones and were quickly followed by the slamming of the doors. Silence descended heavily upon the castle.

“Belle. Oh Belle.”

Rumple walked slowly towards with his hands outreached. There was nothing of the Dark One in his movements, this was all Rumple, the side of him only she got to see. She held out her right hand to him, painfully aware that he could now see the truth of her. Once he was close enough Rumple gently grasped her right fingers and reached across to ease her left from its grip on the spinning wheel.

He walked backwards leading her towards his chair at the head of the table. Each step his eyes mapped another part of her; her arms, her torso, her legs, she was dressed as modestly as ever but still she felt bare under his worried scrutiny.

“It doesn’t hurt, Rumple, there’s no pain.”

He didn’t raise his eyes to hers, but his thumbs rubbed tenderly against the back of her hands. Once she was seated he stepped back and dropped heavily on to the second chair that she only used for meals.

“How was I blind to this? Why did you never say anything sweetheart?”

Belle looked down at her hands fidgeting I her lap. This is what she had wanted, perhaps not the way she had envisioned, but none the less this was her chance to be honest.

“I’d decided to talk with you about all this,” – her hands gestured helplessly at her ravaged face, - “today in fact, but then Regina came and, well.

I’ve only ever been valued for my beauty. I was just as you saw me when you answered our call, pretty and raised to be the perfect princess. When I arrived here this started to happen, and you never noticed, which was wonderful, because I was free from all of those expectations. And then... and this… and it’s…”

Rumple had leaned forward and caught her hands in his again; “Shush, sweetheart, take a deep breath. That’s and another. Take your time.”

Belle took a few more deep breaths and tried to push her way through the misty block in her mind. Panic rose in her chest again and it dawned on her that this happened every time she tried to remember what she had forgotten. She stomped her feet in frustration and almost mashed Rumple’s toes under her heels. He didn’t appear to notice.

“There’s a hole in my memory, Rumple. Filled with all this fog that I can’t get through. When I try I panic and get scared that I’ll become ill like I did after Mother’s death.”

She wondered if Rumple realised her was rubbing his fingers across her skeletal hand in the same motion he used when spinning.

“This illness describe it. Please?”

Watching his fingers was soothing and without thinking she said; “The healers said it was a mourning malady. They could do nothing, so they called the Reul Ghorm,” Belle gasped and looked up at Rumple, “I didn’t remember that before.”

“That blue bitch,” Rumple gulped, “Sorry, sorry Belle. I’ve had encounters with that meddlesome gnat before. She’s more of a beast than I am.”

Belle considered all that she knew of the Blue Fairy. Her first instinct was to refute Rumple’s statement, but the voice stirring in the mist prompted her to think again. Blue had refused to help them against the ogres. Belle had read enough history to know that Blue was mixed up in many of the great tales of the realm, in much the same was that Rumple was, and in most of those stories calling on the Dark One had been the last resort after Blue had refused her assistance. She’d never questioned that before. The histories always gave noble and heroic reason for Blue’s refusals, but now they sounded false, self-serving and cruel.

Belle knew she was going to have to research the history of Reul Ghorm more deeply with this fresh perspective, but right now she had a more personal interaction with the fairy to unravel.

“What has she done to me, Rumple?”

A small smile curved his lips; “You’ve always wanted to see the tower, haven’t you?”

-0-

At the door to his tower workroom Rumple bid Belle to pause. He hurried inside, and she could hear muffle bumps and scrapes and him muttering to himself. A rapid tidy up was in progress. She hummed to herself and rocked on her heels while she waited.

When Rumple opened the door, he looked flustered.

“Sorry about that. Place was a bit of a mess.”

“You should get a maid.”

Rumple tutted at her, but there was a smile on his face as he led her inside. Curiosity got the better of her and Belle tried to look everywhere at once. The room was cluttered, as any space around Rumple tended to be without her tidying. Bunches of herbs hung from the rafters and one whole wall covered in sturdy shelving holding a dazzling array of jars and bottles. A spinning wheel, smaller that the one in the great hall stood in one corner on a patch of floor strewn with wisps of straw and gold thread. When Belle spotted the books, she tripped over her own feet and would have crashed into the long work table if Rumple hadn’t caught her around the waist and held her steady.

He was pressed against her side, his arm around her waist, those restless fingers of his twitching at her side. It was the closest she had been to him since she had hugged him in the forest, and the fact that he wasn’t moving away delighted her.

“I was wondering when you would notice those. I’m no fool enough to forbid you any book Belle, but those are not for casual reading, please do not touch them unless I am with you.”

She eyed the heavily bound leather tomes carefully; “Are they that dangerous?”

“Oh yes, but mostly they are just tetchy. They prefer to be handled by their owner.”

“You realise that once we have broken my memory block I’ll be having you turn the pages for me.”

Rumple chuckled; “I would expect nothing less, mi’lady.”

Belle hand reached up to pat his cheek. She’d never done anything like this before with anyone, but when Rumple leaned into her touch it felt like the most natural gesture in the world.

After a moment Rumple shook his head slightly and made sure she was steady on her feet before her stepped back.

“Right, I erm, you need a seat,” with a twitch of his fingers a comfortable couch appeared in the centre of the room, “there you are.”

While Belle settled herself and arranged her skirts Rumple swivelled on the spot muttering to himself; “Now, where did I put that? Saw it only the other day. Where has it got to?”

With a burst of impish speed Rumple jumped up onto the empty seat of the couch and leapt towards one of the high shelves. Belle twisted in her seat as he landed lightly behind the couch holding an object she had no name for.

“What is that?”

Rumple let the cobweb of bright yellow thread and feathers twist in the air; “This is a dreamcatcher. Magic from a distant realm, and very effective at unlocking blocked memories.”

The breath hitch in Belle’s chest. Panic was rising up from her stomach in a wave of bile. Rumple vaulted over the back of the couch and took her withered hand; “Belle? Just breath, that’s it. The spell is trying to protect itself, but I know you are stronger than it. You can do this, you’re brave.”

A calm crept over her and she nodded; “Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.”

Rumple was nodded, but she could see he didn’t quite understand the importance of those words.

“Okay, I’m ready. What do we have to do?”

He held up the dreamcatcher; “Look at the web and focus on the mist in your mind. I’m right here with you and I will not let anything harm you. Focus on what is beyond the mist…”

The fear and panic tried to rise again, but with Rumple’s reassuring hold on her hand Belle ignored it. Her hand tightened around his when the threads of the web began to glow.

“That’s it, Belle. It’s working. You’re doing it sweetheart.”

The glow spread and swirled across the web, filling the circle and then with a burst of shimmering light Belle found herself looking at much loved face.

“Mother.”

Rumple leaned into her side; “You did it, Belle, now we can watch what you had been forced to forget. Would you like to be alone for this?”

She shook her head and pressed in closer to his warmth. She wanted to say that having him by her side made her feel brave, but her throat was thick with unshed tears and she could not force her voice through them. He understood what she needed of him. At a gesture from him the dreamcatcher floated in the air before them, leaving Rumple able to wrap an arm around Belle’s shoulders and still hold her hand.

Within the circle of the dreamcatcher the image of Mother began to move.

 “Hurry Belle, this is the only place we can speak in safety.”

Colette pulled Belle deeper into the library. Father rarely entered here. The collection of scrolls and tomes was his indulgence to his bookish wife, but the stories held in ink and paper were of little interest to him. Belle had learned to walk in this room, toddling around after Mother and sharing in her passion for the written word before she could talk.

From a hidden compartment concealed in one of the remotest shelves Colette took a slim volume and pressed it into Belle’s hands.

“My journal, I wrote an entry every day from the day I found out I was pregnant until your naming day.”

“Why did you stop then Mother? Why hide this away so well?”

Colette smiled at the inquisitive nature of her darling daughter. She opened the journal to the last few pages.

“Read. Quickly, we’re running out of time.”

Belle turned her eyes toward Mother’s neat script.

 In the tower Rumple and Belle gasped as the words on the page shifted in the same way that Belle’s memories had within the dreamcatcher. Rumple whistled under his breath.

“Your Mother’s memories, we’re seeing her memories within yours. Oh, your Mother was a very clever woman.”

Rumple was clearly impressed, and while Belle was proud of his praise for Mother she shushed him, not wanting to miss anything within the dreamcatcher.

In Avonlea the naming of a royal child was a private ritual attended only by the parents and the patron fairy, Umber.

The wee babe was laid upon an alter draped in purple cloth. Umber stood on one side ready to name and bless the babe. Colette squeezed Maurice’s hand and smiled. This was a happy day. Once their child had her name they would carry her into the great hall and introduce her to the court then the celebration for the heir of Avonlea would begin.

Umber raised her wand and placed her other hand on the child’s head. The babe blinked at her with curious blue eyes.

“I, Umber, patron of the royal house of Avonlea grant this child my blessings three. I bless her with health, wisdom, and beauty. These gifts are given to Princess…”

The door of the chapel blew opened with a crash. Fairy and parents turned to look at the intruder. Framed by the heavily carved oak doorway stood Reul Ghorm.

Maurice instantly bowed and tugged on Colette’s hand to remind her of her manners. Colette dropped into a curtsey but kept her eyes firmly on Reul Ghorm.

The Blue Fairy fluttered forward as Maurice straightened up and said; “You honour us, Reul Ghorm, by attending our daughter’s naming…”

Blue raised a hand and Maurice fell silent.

“There will be no naming today. I bring dire warning about this child. Within her heart there is a darkness. If left unchecked there will come a day when she will join with the greatest evil in this, or any other realm. Together they will bring about the destruction of our very way of life.”

Colette looked to her husband with horror. Her distress was increased by the look of stoic acceptance on his features.

“What must be done?”

Blue fluttered closer a calm smile on her lips; “Give the child to me. I will ensure that she is raised in a place where her darkness can do no harm.”

Maurice heaved a weary sigh, but before he could grant his consent Colette wrenched her hand from his and stepped forward.

“No! I refuse to be separated from the child of my body and blood in this fashion. I rejected your offer Reul Ghorm.”

Blue frowned at Colette, who stood her ground every inch the mother confident that the queen of the fairies could not take her child from her with out consent. Blue looked to Maurice, who dropped his eyes and took his wife’s hand once more.

“You cannot take our child.”

A fearsome snarl marred Blue’s features for an instant before she regained control of herself and resumed a calm but stern appearance.

“As you so wish, but I will not permit this child to grow and offer no warning to the world as to the evil within.”

Blue raised her wand and pointed it directly at the babe, who had watched all of the drama without making a sound.

“From this day forth your visage shall reflect the darkness in your heart. By this deformity of body all whom look upon you will see the blackness of your soul.”

A glittering rain of magic burst forth from Blue’s wand and showered down upon the babe, who squirmed and whined as the curse settled over her. Blue whirled around and left, uncaring of the cries of anguish from Colette and Maurice.

“Umber, please udo this.”

Colette was ready to drop to her knees and beg, but Maurice beat her to it. He prostrated himself before the alter that held his child.

“Please. What will it take to undo this?”

Umber’s wings fluttered anxiously. She tilted her head, but it was not the painted ceiling that her eyes focused on. The power of Sight let he look beyond into the babe’s future.

“I cannot undo what had been done, but I can soften the blow.”

Maurice scrambled to his knees already beginning to smile with relief. Colette stood firm and asked; “At what price?”

A tear trickled from the corner of Umber’s eye; “If this is done you will not live to see you daughter find her place in the world.”

“I accept the price willingly.”

Umber once again raised her wand and placed her hand on the babe’s head.

“By my blessing the world will see your beauty until your nineteenth year. For then I foresee that a soul will be invited into your life, one who will not see you as others do. A day will come when the scales are removed from his eyes. True Love will break your curse and will bring light into his life and the world. These gifts I grant you, child who I name Belle of Avonlea.”

 Within the dreamcatcher young Belle closed the journal and raised worried eyes to Mother.

“So, I’m evil?”

Colette hugged her fearful daughter and stroked her hair; “No. I do not believe that, and I never have.”

Colette took Belle by the shoulders and pushed her just far enough away, so she could look her in the eye.

“Everyone has the capacity for good, evil and everything in between within them. I have spent years researching the prophecies of the Blue Fairy, and I’ve found that they are not always what she would lead us to believe.”

Belle bit her lip; “So, I’m not evil?”

“That is up to you my daughter, but I have raised you to be kind and wise. You always have a choice. There may not be an easy, or a good option, but there is always a choice. Be brave my darling Belle and bravery will follow.”

Mother and daughter jumped as the sounds of screams and shouts rang from the castle. The whole library shook, and Belle clutched Mother’s arm.

“The Ogres!”

Colette hurried Belle through the maze of shelves. A horrid splintering sound rent the air and made them stumble. The growl of an ogre deafened them.

“Belle! Run for the other door. Now!”

Belle turned and ran towards the little used rear door. She had almost reached it when she heard Mother yell.

“Here I am you bastard!”

Belle slid to a stop, she had never heard Mother swear before. As she turned the shelves were shattered by the wild swing of a club the size of a grown tree. Wood, paper and leather erupted into the air. Through the flying debris Belle saw a huge ogre bearing down on Mother.

Her scream was lost in the clamour of falling wood and books. A strong arm wrapped her waist and dragged her backwards. She kicked and struggled, but she was pulled away from Mother. The last sight of Mother Belle had was of her smiling as the ogre raised his club.

 The memories in the dreamcatcher went black. Belle jumped; “Where did they go? What happened?”

Rumple eased her back into his side; “It’s alright. You must have passed out. Oddly enough this spell doesn’t reveal your dreams.”

Belle didn’t relax until the images appeared once more.

 Blue was fluttering angrily as she snapped; “I warned you of the evil with in her. She has caused the queen’s death.”

The confirmation of Mother’s death shook Belle to her core and unleashed her anger.

“If anyone is to blame it is Gaston. He brought this war upon us.”

In a superior and cold tone Blue said; “This is the evil revealing itself. What good and true princess would slander her betrothed so?”

Maurice rang his hat between his hands; “She has been reluctant toto celebrate her engagement.”

Belle glared at her father, but her annoyance at his words was nothing compared to her indignation at the glittering fairy.

“Gaston started this war by beating the ogre child. If your magic was as all-seeing as you claim it to be, Reul Ghorm, you would know that!”

Belle pushed herself into a sitting position before Blue had the chance to speak, she continued; “What is this evil you see in me? Because if all it is that I make my own decisions then I will tell you that there is no evil in that!”

Blue moved closer and hissed; “I don’t know what nonsense your mother tried to fill your head with girl, but it isn’t going to matter because once I’m done with you, you aren’t going to remember any of it.”

 The images in the dreamcatcher faded out. Belle and Rumple sat in silence for a long moment. Finally Rumple said; “How old were you when we made our deal Belle?”

“I’d just turned nineteen.”

“Ah.”

Rumple gave her a gentle squeeze before he released her and rose to his feet. Without thinking Belle tucked her own feet up underneath her. Rumple clearly needed to pace and there wasn’t much space for him to do so. As he moved back and forth she wriggled to get comfortable. Of all the huge secrets her blocked contain within her blocked memories the only one she could focus on was how different she had looked back then. She’d all but forgotten that she’d not always been a walking skeleton, bald and bony with only a thin covering of corpse white skin. It was strange how quickly this appearance had become her normality.

Rumple was muttering to himself she caught some of his words, but not enough to make sense of what he was saying. He suddenly stopped and shily smiled at her.

“It was when you broke my cup. In hindsight that’s when I started to, erm, to love you.”

Belle blinked at him. Rumple loved her? A warmth began to spread in her chest. She’d not been looking for love, had never considered it for herself. Now that she examined her emotions, she saw that she had begun to care for he when she had broken his cup. She’d begun to change at that point as well. Belle bit her lip as doubt crept in, chilling the warmth she had felt.

“You can’t still love me, not when I look like this.”

Rumple dropped to his knees in front of her and took her ravaged hands in his.

“Sweetheart, until Regina’s visit today, I had no idea that you looked like this. To me you have always been the intelligent and brave woman who agreed to a deal with the beast to save her people. I look at you now and you are still that amazing woman, although I confess I do miss your hair.”

She chuckled at him. There was no denying the depth of emotion in his eyes. He loved her. Belle gasped as the implications hit her.

“I can have my hair back. If we a re True Love, a kiss will break my curse.”

Rumple sighed and moved to sit beside her on the couch; “You’re not the only one who is cursed Belle. And I can’t let mine be broken just yet. I promised you a story about my son, didn’t I?”

 Epilogue.

Each great library in the realm had it’s own tale to tell of the visit made by the Corpse Scholar. She would arrive with the first cock crow of morning, always bearing a gift. Sometimes it was a tome thought long lost, others a perfect copy of a scroll the collection that was deemed too delicate with age to handle.

No matter where in the realm the library was located the Corpse Scholar would always request access to the same things; histories involving fairies. She would spend hours or days pouring over the tomes, never appearing to rest. After questioning the scholars, she would enter the town and ask the locals about the legends and stories they had been told as children. Her skeletal appearance caused some to shy away in fear, but her generous and kind nature reassured most. No peasant would refuse a lady who offered gold with open hand and would trade vital cures for the answers she sought.

It was said by many that she was accompanied by a hooded figure. Not all saw him, and those who did declared them the fortunate ones.

A visit from the Corpse Scholar quickly gain the reputation of being a blessing. Any library she graced with her presence was from that moment forward protected from theft and fire. Inks no longer faded, and paper did not crumble.

Around the time that Neverland was broken and the Reul Ghorm fell the Corpse Scholar disappeared. Many scholars tried to understand what she had been researching, but none could find a pattern in the works she read. The great and good among the learned remembered her quick mind, but for the people at large she was best remembered by the songs the bards had penned to her wisdom and kindness.

#rumbelle #halloween house of horror 2018 #body horror

[therumbellehappyendingaward-blog]

Chapter 2 writer; @thecompletebookworm

PROMPT: TIME

AO3: HERE

A/N: I actually haven't watched the show since somewhere in Season 4.  I've attempted to get up to date with the Gideon/ Season 6 things, but it is after all, only a week when I have a job that's driving me crazy.  I apologize if I messed up something crucial, but I guess we're already in AU zone since Gideon was successfully saved and we have this potential angst with a side of fluff and babies, so what's a little more AU. Basically what I'm saying is when I'm wrong about something in canon, please don't hate me.   

Trigger Warning:  Description of Panic Attack (To avoid skip part after “Whatever it is we can fix it” to section break.)  

The walk from the library to the pawnshop had never felt longer.   Even in her worry, Belle couldn't help but smile at the Gold and Son sign.  It may have come from the Black Fairy's curse, but there was still something touching about the names together on the sign, her boys working together.  

She pushed the door open trying to force a smile on her face.  

"Mother!"  Her son was the first one forward, his head darting up from his work as soon as the bell on the front door chimed.  "Mother! I thought we weren't going to see you until lunch.  Is something wrong?"  

Gideon rushed over, hands already ready to support her if necessary but waiting until she gave her permission.  Gideon craved physical contact but was seldom willing to ask for it.  It was a reflex that she and Rumple were still working on, but it would take a lot more than freely given hugs and kisses to get over twenty eight years of neglect and abuse.    

"I'm fine."  The words felt small and untrue, but she pulled her sons arms around her anyway, allowing herself to lean back into his tall frame.  She felt him relax and it gave her courage. Gideon didn't hate her.  Not yet at least.  Things with this baby would be fine.  They would just take time.  

Time she wasn't sure she had if she was honest with herself.  She saw the worry in Rumplestiltskin's eyes, even if he tried to hide it. Belle wasn't sure if knowing the truth would actually help his worry, or if the addition of a fourth family member would send him over the edge.  

Still she knew she couldn't keep the news a secret for long.   It had been four hours at most since she found out about the baby and already she wasn't acting like herself.  She had practically fled the library, leaving it unmanned and unlocked.  It had been practically a miracle she'd remembered to grab a coat, but she supposed that was in part because keeping herself healthy had never seemed more important.    

"Is it so wrong for me to miss my family in the middle of the day?"  She gave Gideon a kiss on the cheek.  

While she knew the baby couldn’t be a secret for long, seeing their faces made her realize she couldn't do this right now. She just needed a few moments, a little more time to center herself, to let herself get used to the idea of a baby.

It wasn't that the child wasn't wanted.   Gods no.  She already loved this baby with every ounce of her being.  It was just unexpected and with life in Storybrooke already so up in the air it felt like too much to handle, more than she felt she could handle.  

She hadn't realized she had started to cry before she felt her husband's hand wiping away the tears.  

"Sweetheart, Everything is going to be okay.  Whatever it is we can fix this."  

Somehow that only made her cry harder.  She couldn't even look at either of them anymore.   Her entire body felt like it was out of her control now.  She was shaking and she couldn’t breathe.  Was

"Gideon help me get her to the cot in back"

Belle could hear them moving her, could feel her son’s hands around her, but she didn't feel like she was present any more.  It was like they were doing it to someone else someone who didn't have earthshattering news for their family.  

A million questions ran through her head as she tried to focus on actually getting some air.   Maybe her inability to breathe wasn't coming from anxiety and something was actually was wrong with her.  Was this the unspoken cost of the magic necessary to speed things along? Was her body betraying the baby right now? Hurting them instead of providing of safe shelter?

The questions racing through her head at a million miles a minute were only silenced by everything slowly fading to back.  

She felt the hand first.  A steady rhythm going through her hair, somehow anchoring her. Next she felt her head lying in the lap of her husband.  

"Sweetheart?"  His voice was so unsure; his eyes brimming with unshed tears.  

Belle forced herself into a sitting position and tried to look around. "Where's Gideon?"  

Gentle hands pulled her back down onto his lap, before resuming their slow dance through her hair.   "He's fine.   I sent him to get Doctor Whale."  

"No!"  The word escaped her before she realized she said it.  

Rumplestiltskin looked affronted.  "Belle, we're worried.  We're both terrified something is wrong.  You haven't been yourself lately.  You’re tired all the time and your stomach isn’t even tempted by Granny’s hamburgers.  You need to let us help you."  

When said like that, any hope of keeping the pregnancy to herself or just between Rumplestiltskin and her died.  

"I'm scared." The words were barely audible in the quiet shop.  

The hand paused in her hair.    “Belle, even after all this time, you are the bravest, most remarkable person I know.  It’s okay to be scared, but you have to face the problem.  You taught me that.”  

His eyes were so earnest and pleading.  They had agreed on no more secrets and she couldn’t resist anymore.  

“I’m pregnant.”

She studied his face as the emotions flooded across it. His worry changed to confusion and then to love and wonder.  

Rumplestiltskin placed a hand against her still flat stomach, as if he could feel the babe growing in it already.   Then he leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss that was practically reverent.  

“That’s wonderful.  But how?”   He bashfully avoided meeting her eyes.  Obviously he knew how.  He’d always been an enthusiastic participant.  But she knew what he meant.   They hadn’t exactly been in a bedroom state of mind recently.  Between helping Gideon and rebuilding the trust in their relationship, it never felt like the right time.  Plus the pain that had still lingered from an expedited birth could certainly put a damper on even the most romantic of intentions.  

“That was my first thought too.” She whispered. Belle tried not to focus on the hand ghosting over her abdomen making this feel real.   “I looked in the library-“  

“Naturally,” Rumplestiltskin chuckled before pressing kisses into her hairline.  

She hummed in pleasure at his actions.  It was easy to forget she had ever been worried when he seemed so ready to shower her and the baby with affection.  Of course, the bigger and more unpredictable challenge was still to come.  

“And I think the Evil Queen didn’t use enough magic to speed up my pregnancy.”  

She felt Rumplestiltskin tense beneath her at the memory of the terrible time, of how he missed his second sons birth, of how she wouldn’t even tell him Gideon’s name, of the blatant fear on her face.  

Belle hurried on with her explanation trying to keep them in the present.  “If you’re having fraternal twins, you need more magic.  Of course I don’t know much about magic, but that seems to be about right, I mean larger cost and all.”  She was babbling, but really couldn’t stop herself.  It felt easier if she got it all out at once.  

“And maybe I shouldn’t even be calling them fraternal twins, it could be super-, superf-” She should have brought her notes from the library, because even as she tried to explain it was like her mind was blank.  

“Sweetheart,” He grabbed her hand, trying to keep herself from getting too worked up again.  “You’re not doing this alone anymore.  We can figure this out together.”  

“So you’re not mad?”  Even though Rumplestiltskin seemed excited, she couldn’t help but ask. She needed to.  

She knew this pregnancy dragged up so many regrets and fears.  If there had been no Black Fairy, no Evil Queen, they would have had two lovely children, with the language of twins all their own.  They would have decorated a nursery and switched out the cribs for bunk beds eventually.  There would have been laughter as their house was made the castle or pirate ship or dragon’s den for countless playtimes.   But that was a time stolen from them, an illusion that she needed to give up on to give both her children an opportunity to be themselves and not her silly idolized version of them.  

Rumplestiltskin’s arms tightened around her.    “I could never be mad about this.   Having a family with you was all I ever wanted.”  

There was so much sadness laced in those words.   So many memories of the times she’d doubted that, of times when his quest for power to protect that dream sabotaged it.  

Belle began to fiddle with her wedding ring to give herself something to focus on.  

“I just don’t know how to tell him.  Without you I’d certainly mess up telling Gideon I was pregnant.”    

There was a crash behind them and Belle lifted herself off Rumplestiltskin’s lap to see the source of the commotion.    

Gideon was staring blankly at them, a tea tray smashed on the floor in front of him.    

“Pregnant?”  His voice was shaking.  

Belle tried to pull her son into an embrace, to hold him as they sorted things out, but he pulled away from her.  

“No!  This can’t be happening now! You said you would help me! You said you’d help me free the children still stuck in the Dark Realm!”  

Every word felt like a stab.   She knew things wouldn’t go well, but she thought it would be her son’s insecurity in his place in this family that caused all the problems not his desire to be a hero that was so much like hers.    

“Gideon! Wait!”  Her shouts were only greeted by the slam of the shop’s front door.

She turned to look back at Rumplestiltskin, who staring at his cane intently seemed much calmer than he had any right to be.  

Belle tried to pull him off the cot to help her chase down their son, but he merely waved a hand and repaired the tea set Gideon had dropped.  

“What are you doing? We have to go after him!”

He gave her a weak smile.  “No, sweetheart, that would only be chasing him away.”  

Belle reluctantly sat down on the bed next to him, leaning into him as if she could absorb all his calm and parental knowledge.

“He needs time to come to terms with it.”  Rumplestiltskin squeezed her hand.   “I think we all do.  We just have to remember.  This isn’t like last time.”  

Even as he said it, Belle heard the slight waver in his voice that meant Rumplestiltskin was trying to convince himself as well.  

#group orange #finish this #rumbelle #thecompletebookworm

[mordacitatis]

Princess Raisa and the Mysterious Knight

I said that if @hyper-elastagirl posted her art then I would post some of my writing. Go check out her pretties!

Story under the cut

Once upon a time, there was a tsar who had a daughter named Raisa, for she was as beautiful as a rose. She had hair a black as night, eyes bluer than the sky at noon, and cheeks as rosy as…well, a rose. By the time she was seven, the courtiers would stop to stare as she skipped down the halls. For her safety, the tsar asked that the princess wear a veil when she was in the presence of others. The mystery added to her allure and made her all the more beautiful.

When she came of age, the tsar was overwhelmed with princes and commoners alike arriving to ask for her hand. Princess Raisa sat with her court in the throne room as the tsar received all of the visitors. As the days went on and the men continued to file through with their offers, the princess became increasingly distressed. Each new suitor gave higher, more unachievable outlandish claims to their strength and worth. Some offered gold, some offered their sword and knowledge of war; however, Raisa could see the clean perfection of their armor and knew that these soft men had never seen the horrors of battle. How could this result in a good marriage? Riches and boasts would mean nothing when the days got cold and the wolves began to knock at their door.

On the third day, the evil tsar from the kingdom to the West, who had been scheming to take the crown for himself, burst into the throne room. He blasted the doors almost off with the strength of his malicious magic. He knew that he could offer the highest dowry. He had been planning his coup for years and knew that this would be his best chance. The good tsar would choose the richest man to care for his daughter.

Our tsar was a good ruler, but he always believed the best of everyone. He never saw the duplicitous nature of the sorcerer and never heeded his advisors’ warnings. The princess was not so naïve. Though she could not prove it, she knew that the sorcerer was the cause of her mother’s death. Only one with powerful magics could create the illness that befell her mother. Before the tsar could accept the evil sorcerer’s offer, Princess Raisa made an impossible request. Only the suitor who could bring her those things that her heart most desires within one year would she marry. To give all a fair chance, she would not make a decision until the day that the year expired. The announcement was spread throughout the kingdoms and every man of age and ability left their homes to try and find the things that would win them the beautiful princess.

Now the princess had a lady in waiting who was her bosom friend and confidant since birth. Her name was Borislava and Princess Raisa loved her most of all. Borislava was one of the few people who was still able to see the princess unveiled. As children growing up together, they would run and dance through the wild chamomile flowers growing in the gardens. They were of the same age and each new experience to be had, they had together. She had been in the throne room supporting the princess through the entire ordeal and knew how worried that the princess was about the sorcerer. Because of his power, Princess Raisa worried that he would find some unnatural way to discover what she truly wanted.

Borislava found the princess pacing her bedchamber, pulling at her hair in her anxiety. The lady sat her princess down and started to comb her hair. This calmed her significantly.

“Your Highness, what is it that you most desire?” Borislava asked.

“Oh, I don’t know!” She wailed. “That’s why I asked, because it is such an ineffable thing. How could the sorcerer discover it?”

Borislava grabbed the princesses hand and squeezed it in support. “I’m sure that even his evil power cannot find that which is out of your reach.”

A day after the princess’s decree, suitors began to pour back into the capitol city to present their gifts. Due to the rather large influx and need to continue to carry out matters of state, only one man was allowed to bring a gift to the princess each day. On the seventh day, the evil sorcerer brought a cloak made from the pelt of a unicorn. Princess Raisa was horrified at the cruelty of such an action and stormed out of the throne room with the gift in her arms and tears in her eyes. Though unicorn poaching wasn’t unheard of in these parts, she had always felt that magical creatures who did no harm should be left well enough alone. As she stalked towards her room, tears soaking into her veil, she heard a voice call out.

“Princess, wait! Please.” A clank of metal sounded as if someone were running after her in a suit of armor. Princess Raisa spun on her heel, ready to slice the knight to ribbons with her sharp tongue. Instead, she paused. The knight was kneeling, helmet on, head bowed, with a slightly crumpled bouquet in an outstretched gauntlet.

“Your Highness, I am so terribly sorry,” said a gruff voice from the helmet.

“Are you?” She asked. “Have you done something even more horrible than killing an innocent?”

“No, Your Highness,” the knight replied gravely. “I am sorry that I did not arrive in time to present my gift first.”

Spurred by her insatiable curiosity, the princess couldn’t help but ask: “what have you brought?”

“May I stand?” The knight asked, standing without waiting for her answer. The knight extended the flowers once again to the princess. It was at this moment that she realized, as crumpled as they were, the bouquet was of her favorite flowers. Not the roses of which she took her name, but the wild chamomile flowers that grew like weeds across the kingdom.

“I—,” she paused. “These are my favorite flowers. Thank you.”

The knight merely bowed, passed the flowers to the maid who came to accept them, and walked back down the hall. The princess couldn’t help but feel as if she recognized the voice coming from the helmet, but she could not place it. Besides, she had never seen a knight in a suit of armor so tarnished and dented.

A fortnight passed with little excitement, just a steady stream of suitors with their solicitations. The mysterious knight did not appear again. It was on this day that Princess Raisa was given the gravest of news. Her dearest friend, Borislava, was needed in the country to care for her ailing aunt. The princess offered to send as many healers and aides that the castle could spare, but her lady in waiting was adamant. Her stubbornness had always been a mirror to the princess’s own and Raisa finally relented.

During the first few months, Borislava wrote to her princess daily with stories of the people that she was meeting in this new estate and the adventures that she was having. Borislava was always imaginative and her letters were often full of magical creatures. She spoke of a knight who searched out Baba Yaga to discover what the most beautiful princess in the world truly desired. Baba Yaga told the knight that she did not know, but that her sister Baba Yaga might, and why don’t you take this princess Dymkovo toy with you. The toy had golden hair like the wheat under a bright blue sky. The knight continued onward to the next Baba Yaga’s house. It spun for hours on its chicken legs, but the knight just waited patiently. Eventually Baba Yaga’s house became so tired and dizzy that it fell onto its foundation.  The knight asked the witch whether she knew the heart’s desire of the princess more beautiful than a rose. She did not know, but her sister might, and why don’t you take this golden matryoshka doll with you.

Slowly the letters dwindled to weekly, then monthly, then nothing. Time dragged for Princess Raisa as she longed for the smallest hint of what her friend was doing. While she would like nothing more than to travel herself to the country to see her, she was prisoner to her duties in the castle. The mysterious knight made a few official visits, bringing her the chocolates that she loved from several kingdoms away and various other things. She could never get the knight to tell her how he knew the things she loved so well. The evil sorcerer continued to bring gifts that were more magical and horrifying than the last, and Raisa soon grew endlessly tired of the procession of men. As the yearlong deadline creeped ever closer, Princess Raisa became pallid and weak.

The princess cried and lamented daily in her bedchamber. She so dearly missed her friend and had never felt so alone. The mysterious knight’s last visit had been months ago and the sorcerer’s visits were becoming more frequent and pressing. He brought her priceless books and artifacts, hoping to sway her as all knew her love of reading. He brought her technologies that served to help her people, hoping to sway her as all knew her love of her people. Her father the tsar couldn’t understand why she didn’t just accept the sorcerer’s offer, having only a mind for the riches that she would be showered in. When Princess Raisa tried to explain, the tsar just shook his head and muttered about the fainthearted nature of women.

A year to the day of her decree, the princess was so weak that she had to be carried to the throne room to announce her decision. She saw that she had no choice but to accept the sorcerer’s offer. While she did no love him, she knew that his coffers would be necessary to improve the tsardom and help her people. She knew she would die of grief from missing Borislava regardless, and at least in her acceptance she would make her father happy one last time. She would milk the sorcerer for as much as she could before her illness took her. The richest most noble suitors filled the throne room, with the commoners crowding outside the door trying to hear if one of them were to be chosen. The sorcerer stood at the front of the group with a smug smile.

The crowd had quieted when Princess Raisa had been carried to her throne; they had not realized how ill she had become. They could see that she did not even have the strength to stand. A murmur slipped through the crowd. The princess didn’t even have the energy to care. She sat with dead eyes staring into the crowd.

A manservant walked up to one of the guards at the foot of the dais. A brisk conversation followed and the guard let him through to the princess. He carried a platter with a letter a top it. Princess Raisa didn’t notice his approach. He reached her side and offered her the letter, finally breaking out of her reverie. The princess froze. All in the crowd would have said that the princess was already frozen unmoving, but the sudden shock of true immobility caught the eye of all of the gossipmongers. Princess Raisa reached her shaking hand towards the letter. What she had noticed that none else could see was the sweeping chicken scratch of her bosom friend’s handwriting. She slowly opened the letter, scared to know what it might possess. In the most illegible handwriting, she read:

“And then the knight traveled far and wide looking for the third sister. She was terribly difficult to find. Many times, the brave knight was lost and destitute. But the knight had a quest to fulfill. Finally, months of searching, the knight had finally found her. The same question was posed: do you know what the most radiant princess with eyes bluer than the sky over a field of grain, do you know what she most desires? Baba Yaga smiled at our knight, but said go home, and take this golden drop spindle, you may find a use for it. With that, Baba Yaga galloped away in her mortar, driven by the pestle, her broom sweeping her trail away. The knight was far from home and unsure if the princess had already made the decree of who she would marry. But the knight had hope.”

It ended abruptly, and she had a sudden burst of energy as she searched everywhere for some continuation of the story that she had dropped. The crowd became silent again and parted as if by magic. Princess Raisa looked up instinctively to see what the matter was. Standing in the doorway to the throne room was the mysterious knight. The princess fell to her knees shocked and the knight ran to her.

“Roza, sweet Roza,” the knight murmured.

“Is it you? Could it really be you?” the princess whispered.

The knight pulled out a princess Dymkovo toy with golden hair, a golden matryoshka doll, and a golden drop spindle; an armored hand sat them gently down into Princess Raisa’s lap.

The tsar overcame his shock at the sudden revival of his daughter and this mysterious suitor. He demanded that the knight remove his helmet, or the guards would remove it for him. The knight stood up, bowed graciously, removed the armored helmet, and shook out her long golden hair. Standing on the dais in a suit of armor was Borislava, the thing that Princess Raisa most desired in all the world. The tsar was taken aback, but a deal is a deal is a deal. Besides, seeing his daughter with a smile on her face and color in her cheeks again was all that he needed.

Princess Raisa and her knight Borislava were married the next day, and the evil sorcerer was so enraged that he turned into a million butterflies and flew away. To this day, butterflies are considered to be an omen of love so powerful as to break evil into harmless pieces. Upon a search for an heir, it was discovered that Borislava’s mother was, in fact, the sorcerer’s kind younger sister. Borislava was the last of her line and was given the sorcerer’s lands as was dictated by custom. Tsarinas Raisa and Borislava lived happily ever after, ruling their lands with kindness and love. Together.

#mine #writing #my writing #if yall like this #I will share more #and maybe even take requests #of the not fandom kind #i only write original fic #i have imposter syndrome and it doesn't need any help #alex if you wanna draw my gay princesses #i would not say no #honestly anyone that wanted to draw them is welcome to it #just tag me so I see! #fairytales #russian #russia #lesbian #lgbt #please read

[pen-scribbled-musings]

Mortality Lullaby: Chapter 6

Plumette was unknowingly pregnant with her and Lumiere’s child before the curse was placed, now that it’s broken her body has been restored, yet still carrying a child that died years ago.

Warnings: Miscarriage, infant death

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

The first thing she knew was that she hurt, a lot. The second was that despite the pain she was warm and somewhere strangely so very soft, as if she were sleeping on a pile of feathers and fluffy clouds. She struggled to wake up, her eyes not wanting to open and when they did she grumbled at the light piercing her gaze.

“Plumette?!” she heard Lumière's voice call from somewhere close by, she could feel his presence around her as he came nearer. “Mon amour? Are you awake?” he begged, his hands ever so warm cupping her cheeks but she could only moan in return and struggle under the weight of her own sleep heavy body. “Please wake up” She may have had no idea of what was happening but the fear and urgency in his voice already was enough to break her heart and so once again she would try, for him, anything for him. She grimaced as her eyes dragged themselves open to the harsh twinkling lights another time, the world a blur of sickening colours, of light and shadows around her.

This was not her bed. Her bed never had so much leg room she mused as she stretched herself under him, Lumière beside her and leaning over as she squinted up at him, his bright blue eyes the first thing she could tell apart from the rest of the blur, his face came into focus next and it was awfully frightened looking.

“... Amour?” she managed to croak out, her throat dry and her voice warped. Her gazed slid past him up to where the usual sight of the plain wooden ceiling of her room wasn't there to greet her, instead a bed canopy. This wasn't her room. Lumière was taking her attention again, pressing numerous kisses along her cheek bone up to her forehead where he paused, his lips above her brow “Please never do that again”

She was confused “Do what?” she croaked, her hand coming out from under the heavy covers to push him away, he gently backed off, and she tried to follow him by sitting up a little. Oh dear, what a bad idea that was, she thought as the pain blazed through her belly and she gave a weak cry, slumping down into the mountain of soft pillows behind her. “What is …. why am I here?” she questioned after a moment when she felt she could breathe easy without jolts of agony stabbing up through her abdomen. She knew this room, of course she did, she knew every corner of the entire castle from decades of cleaning it, this was one of the previously unused guest rooms in the East wing, only a short walk from Belle's and just as luxurious. She panicked, she was not supposed to be here and certainly not tucked up in this expensive bed as if it were her own “I cannot be here! If the master-” she tried to fling the covers off herself, but getting only so far as to dig out her other arm and give something of a pathetic wriggle before Adam's voice cut in.

“If the master what?” he spoke, from the corner of the room he had been sitting quietly in, he stood up and approached the bed.

Lumière had taken a hold of her shoulder to steady her against the pillows, not allowing her anymore attempts to flee, not that she would have been able to get far he if let her try with how awful the pain was. “Master!” she squeaked in fear “I am so sorry I have no idea why I am here I will leave right now!”

“You are in this room because it is yours for as long as you like” Adam spoke gently, as if he was trying to soothe a cornered animal.

Plumette looked between him and her beloved anxiously, confusion still evident “You kept saying you were cold so we brought you to a room with a fire and it will be easier for us to look after you here than upstairs” Lumière explained, rubbing at her arm comfortingly as he perched on the edge of the bed at her side.

She frowned, she had said she was cold? When? “I do not remember that? … I cannot remember anything we were at the funeral and now...” she rambled, her breathing growing heavier as she became upset, frightened at the missing memories.

“Cherie” Lumière soothed her, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw lovingly, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Do not be afraid you are just a little confused, you fell faint while we were out at the meadow, you have been not quite here nor there sometimes, not yourself, but you are awake now it will be alright”

She calmed under his gentle words and caresses and gave him a weak smile before peering about, the fire burned pleasantly so and there was a dozen candles scattered across the room casting a warming glow. Outside the large windows the world of the dark of night, what time was it? It had been mid afternoon at the funeral. “How long has it been?”

“Seven hours” Lumière answered truthfully “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

She nodded “Thirsty”

He turned to where a pitcher of water and a cup waited at his side on a table by the bed, pouring the water out and bringing it to her lips, she didn't even try to argue as she cautiously took small sips, her arms far to heavy and clumsy at the moment to attempt to do it herself. When she was done he placed the cup down, thumbing any stray drops down her chin away.

“I'll let them know you have woken” Adam spoke up while Lumière cooed over her without much notice for their prince, feeling slightly uncomfortable and out of place, he left the room and quietly shut the door behind himself.

Plumette gave a light shiver as she yawned “Are you cold my darling?” Lumière worried, pulling the thick bed covers further up her shoulders and the back of his palm pressing against her forehead to feel for any sign of fever, when he was satisfied that her flushed cheeks was just from the warmth he kissed her there instead.

“I am sorry for worrying you”she whispered, her hands reaching out from the covers in a bid for freedom to caress his face, her dainty fingers cradling his cheek.

He smiled gently at her, his pale eyes searching hers for a moment before saying apologetically “You know you must see a doctor”

She stiffened under his hands, the reply near automatic “I do not want-”

He stopped her with a finger pressed to her lips as he frowned “You must, he's already here waiting for you”

She was shaking her head, her eyes widening “Please, you know why I cannot please” she begged, her fingers clutching at his sleeves.

He frowned in distress and worry, his hands trying to soothe her while she clutched at him “Mon amour, Mon cherie, it has been two days and you only grow weaker, please for me let him look at you, just a quick visit and we will know how to make you feel better”

“But I'm afraid...” she whimpered.

“I will be here with you for every second, nothing can harm you as long as I am here” he nuzzled her forehead. “However ...” he sighed and she stiffened anxiously “We had a slight issue, you see the doctor in the village has disappeared on holiday with his newly re-found wife, she was cursed here with us, so we had to send to the next nearest village and he does not know of our last ten years and it is perhaps best it stays this way”

She gave a small nod in understanding, they had spoken of this subject the day after Belle had saved them, deciding the less people who knew about the curse the better. Unless one had seen it with their own eyes it was a truth hard to swallow and nobody wanted to be carted off to the madhouse for talking about how they had spent a decade as a household item. She also knew realistically she had to see a doctor and waiting longer would only leave her feeling worse, even so she was still terrified and fought to control her breathing, Lumière soothing her until Adam returned, opening the door for himself, Belle, Mrs Potts, Cogsworth and a man she had never seen before.

“Bonjour, I am Lumière” her beloved spoke as he stood up, striding a few steps to greet their guest and his hand out ready to shade.

“You must be the husband” the doctor smiled.

“... Ah, no.... we are not married”

“Oh” the man hesitated, frowning to himself.

“And this is Plumette” Lumière introduced, keen to move on and and gesturing to the girl who sat quietly in the bed and warily observed them.

The doctor's brows lifted up, his eyes going between her and Lumière a few times while he seemed to try and puzzle something out in his mind. “Will you remind me of the symptoms?” he addressed behind him, ignoring Lumière standing beside him and not talking to his patient as he eyed her curiously.

“Oh, yes well she's been weak and sickly since the birth, that was two days ago, an' she's been bleedin' rather heavily since then, she's havin' nasty pains and not holdin' down her food” Mrs Potts explained.

The doctor nodded thoughtfully, leaning over the bed and reaching his hands out for Plumette's face, she flinched away and looked to Lumière for help. He merely smiled at her with a nod to let the man continue, taking a hold of her hand while the doctor roughly used his fingers to pull her top lip up. “Open” he commanded when he had observed the paleness of her gums, she did as she was told and wrinkled her nose when he pulled more at her mouth to see inside, his fingers tasting of pipe ash and dirt as his digits brushed against her tongue. His fingers left her mouth to cup the sides of her face, thumbs dragging down both lower eyelids “Look up” and again she did as asked and rolled her eyes upwards.

He hummed in thought and removed his hands “Pale gums and inside eyes, most likely from the bleeding, it does seem the blood is under balanced, I advise to eat red things for that, both red meats and vegetables. Now, you mentioned pain?” he once again asked not to Plumette but the gathered group.

“Yes” Lumière stepped closer “Cherie, could you please show him?” he asked politely, because he had a feeling the doctor wasn't going to at all, their eyes met over the man's shoulder and he gave her his best reassuring smile.

With a nod she rolled back the bed covers down to her lap and placed a hand just above her groin. “This is where it hurts the most” she explained for herself. The doctor nodded, his hands reaching over to the area as both she and Lumière stiffened at his actions. Plumette glanced away in embarrassment and discomfort at a man she didn't even know the name of touching her in such a casual and private manner, especially since she was only still wearing her thin chemise. His hands nudged hers out of the way, fingers probing lightly and then sinking down into her flesh, hard. She screamed, long and loud as his digits mercilessly pushed against the area that had been greatly paining her.

“Stop it you imbecile!” Lumière howled, reaching to snatch at the man's shoulders in an attempt to drag him away from his beloved, however Adam was faster, moving much too quick for a normal human, more like his cursed form and had forcefully gripping Lumière by his arms and restraining him from battering the doctor.

“Lumière! Let him work!” the Prince hissed.

“But he's hurting her!” he cried, near hysterical and smoke beginning to rise from him although the doctor was too busy to notice the perculiarity.

“Lumière!” Plumette wailed for help, her arms and legs flailing in attempts to push the doctor away but she had no where near the strength required to do so, she could only press her head back against the pillows as her back arched taut and tears streamed across her cheeks.

The gathering in the room shifted uneasily amongst themselves at seeing her suffer, her cries turning to mere whimpers when he removed his hands “Well I can feel no odd signs of anything wrong, no lumps and not much swelling beyond what is to be expected from a pregnancy” Adam let go of Lumière who flew straight to Plumette's side, trying to hush her and wiping away her tears with trembling hands. “I should like to perform an internal examination just to be sure there is nothing wrong”

“Internal?!” Lumière growled, his head snapping up to glare at the man.

“Beggin' your pardon but I don't think that's necessary, I've checked her myself an' I couldn't see anythin' wrong” Mrs Potts spoke out worriedly.

“But my dear lady you are not a professional, there are a great many things you may have missed” the doctor replied snobbishly. “It is for the best the examination is carried out, now if all the men could leave for a moment, also your highness if you please” he gestured towards the door.

“I am not leaving her” Lumière snarled, his eyes shining dangerously.

“You are not her husband, it would be completely inappropriate to allow you to remain during the examination”

Lumière had begun to smoke again, although luckily it went unnoticed but if he was to set something ablaze as he looked like he wanted to then the doctor was certainty going to see.

“Lumière go!” Plumette demanded, knowing it was the only way for their secret to be kept.

His pale blue eyes flashed to her, the anger immediately replaced with love and worry “But cherie -!”

“Go!” she demanded again, cutting off whatever it was he intended to protest with. He went dreadfully quiet and allowed Adam to lead him out, the others all trailing behind and shutting the door after them. Only Mrs Potts remained and came to take Lumière's place at her side and roll the covers down further to her feet then took a hold of her hand.

“Right sweetheart, just focus up here on me an' we're gonna get through this together” Mrs Potts tried her best to reassure her, Plumette nodded, her eyes already watering.

The doctor took a hold of her ankle and tugged to spread her legs further apart, rucking up the hem of her chemise. Mrs Potts fought the urge to snap at him to be more gentle, only managing to stop herself in fear of upsetting Plumette even more than she had to be.

“Darlin', darin' look at me” she called as the doctor's hands moved between her open legs and the girl's head had snapped up to look. Plumette did as she was told, but couldn't help the sobs that escaped her lips when his fingers roughly pushed into her.

“It hurts!” she whimpered, tears wet on her cheeks. The doctor huffed under his breath and continued moving his fingers about to feel for any noticeable damage inside. “Please stop!”

Mrs Potts caught at her wrist, her other hand holding firmly at her knee to stop her from closing her legs. “The quicker you let him look the quicker it'll be over” she reminded, although she felt near sick to her stomach at having to restrain the girl while a stranger touched her in ways she didn't want. Plumette let out a heart breaking sob as she nodded, her eyes shut tight.

“Hmm, I can feel no tears nor any particular reason for the bleeding” the man finally announced, removing his hands and stepping away. Mrs Potts was quick to straighten out the girl's chemise and pull the bed covers back up and tuck them around her trembling form. He cleaned his hands free of blood in a wash bowl sitting on the chest at the foot of the grand bed. “The best thing will be to focus on balancing the blood levels, now you said it was you who prepares medicines, yes?” he turned to the housekeeper.

“Yes” she nodded, not taking her eyes away from Plumette as she carefully wiped at her damp face.

“Excellent, now if you come with me I should like to show you a good recipe that I think will work” he beckoned with a wave of his hand. Mrs Potts held back a growl of profanities, instead kissing the girl's forehead and following the doctor out of the room, as soon as the door was open Lumière had dodged in and already at his beloveds side. Voices beyond the door speaking before disappearing, the group evidently deciding it was best to leave the two of them together after the ordeal.

Plumette opened her arms as he approached and was promptly swept up in a hug, Lumière's arms tight around her back as she clung around his neck. “That man put his filthy hands inside me” she whimpered, her lower lip trembling dangerously.

“I am so sorry” he breathed into her shoulder “I will not allow him near you again”

“It was awful I hated it” she sobbed against his neck. “He couldn't even find anything wrong”

“Well hopefully that is a good thing, you just need to rest and get better” he untangled himself from her “Here cherie, lie down” he urged, guiding her to rest down fully into the soft pillows. She cured up on her side, her watering eyes shining in the candle light. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can bring you? Are you hungry or thirsty?” he fussed over her, stroking her hair away from her face so gently.

“Non” she sulked, the bed covers clutched between her fingers.

The two of them stayed like that quietly, Lumière stroking her face until Mrs Potts peeped in. “Hello loves... how are you doin?” she asked very cautiously, bringing in yet another tray of tea in with her, neither of them replied. “Come on darlin' time to take your tea, I've mixed some different things in there what should help you feel better” she rambled on, pouring out a cup while Lumière aided the girl to sit up against her pillows. Plumette hummed to herself as she was handed a cup, the concoction an interesting red colour and smelt even stronger than ever and taking a sip it tasted worse.

She coughed “That's foul”

Mrs Potts could only give her a sympathetic smile and pet on her arm “Next time I'll add more sugar, the doctor gave us dried poppies to use an' we'll be getting' some more in, that was a bloody nightmare in itself to get him to agree” she grumbled.

“Why?”

The housekeeper paused, her face worried as she caught up with her mouth and realised talking about this wasn't going to make the girl feel any better. “... oh you know... he's one of those idiotic types, has wrongful prejudices”

Plumette grimaced, having met doctors who refused to as what they though of as waste fine medicine on her. “He didn't wish to give me poppies because of my skin colour, did he?” she asked, there was a nasty opinion floating amongst some doctors that she couldn't feel pain because of her darker skin tone, honestly what was the point of calling yourself a medical professional if one believed such idiotic ideas such as that?

“We'll find you another doctor” Mrs Potts replied apologetically.

“I want him gone as soon as possible” Lumière muttered, rubbing at Plumette's shoulder soothingly.

“He'll be gone first thing in the mornin', you can be sure of that” the housekeeper took the empty cup away when the girl had managed to swallow it back and Lumière making sure she was thoroughly tucked in comfortably. “Would you like a little somethin' to eat?” she asked.

“Non, merci”

Mrs Potts glanced at Lumière, who had a similar look of unhappiness as she did. “You sure, love? I can bring you anythin?”

“I just would like to rest” Plumette sighed, rubbing at her eyes with a fist.

“Alright Poppet, get some sleep an' remember if you need even the smallest thing don't hesitate to call, sweet dreams” she pressed a gently kiss to her forehead then turned to Lumière and wrapped an arm around his shoulder in a quick embrace before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her.

The fire crackled, giving the room the perfect temperature and she decided she was most comfortable, the tea she had been given working well to dampen her pains and make her feel a little woozy, as if she had drunken just a little too much wine. Lumière toed off his shoes and settled down at her side, joining her on the bed, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “I love you, I feel I do not tell you enough”

“You tell me plenty enough, but I must say I am quite addicted to hearing you say it” his hand curled up to caress her face.

“I adore you” she leaned up just enough to kiss at his neck.

“I adore you more” he grinned, leading her into their usual game of who loved who the most, which would usually end when they were both too out of breath from kisses to continue.

“Impossible” she yawned, her eyes trailing across the room to the window and the night outside. “She's out there, alone in the dark” her mood grew sombre and her eyebrows drawn in. Lumière merely nodded, not having a good enough response that could give any comfort. “Tell me, what would she be like, our Marietta?” she asked softly, thinking back to when she had been asleep and she had dreamt of little girls, sometimes with brown eyes, sometimes with blue but all carrying their daughter's name.

“Cherie... don't hurt yourself with ideas of what could have been” he spoke softly, hesitant to say it.

“Just for tonight, let's say we have her s'il vous plait” she begged, her hands clutched at one of his.

Lumière looked at her and sighed, then was quiet for a moment in thought “She would be perfect because she is yours” he nuzzled her hair “She would be brave and free spirited like you, she would have your kindness and your good heart”

“She would have your eyes” Plumette thought of the phantom daughters in her dreams, the little ones who had Lumière's eyes in their cherub faces her favourite.

“I would hope she had yours, so that I may see their loveliness twice as often, what a gift that would be!”

“She would be a show off like you” she smiled.

He let out a laugh “Ah but of course! I would most certainly teach her the ways of great showmanship!”

“She would be funny like you and just as loyal and loving”

“The two of us in one little person, what a mischievous trickster she would be” he chuckled conspiringly.

“I hope she would be intelligent, we would teach her everything we know and she would go to school, she would read as Belle does” she would have wanted any child of theirs to have a better life than they, something more than servitude or hard labour, their child would be well educated.

“Smart and witty, she would grow into a most beautiful lady like her mother” Lumière smiled gently before yawning into his sleeve.

Plumette grew quieter, her smile falling away “I want her” she breathed, biting at her lower lip “I want our smart and silly girl” to her surprise Lumière began to gently sob, his mouth pressed to her temple as he tried to stop himself. “Oh amour! No” she reached up to cup his face between her palms, her thumbs wiping away his tears.

“Ah pardon, it is nothing cherie I am just a little tired, you know how I grow emotional when I do not sleep” he tried to laugh at himself and pass it off as a joke.

She frowned, yet despite his tears more than likely not caused from sleepiness she knew it was getting late and he was wearing himself thin trying to constantly look after her, if he continued he'd only succeed in working himself sick. “Amour you must be very tired, why don't you take some rest?”

He pouted, his face once again free of tears “Non, I must take care of you”

“Watching me lay here will be dreadfully dull for you, besides I seem to have spent much of the day asleep and I do not think I can manage any more right now but it is time for you to sleep, I will be right here beside you” she tried to persuade him, her fingers stroking along his cheek.

He looked like wanted to protest but instead he yawned loudly, his eyes weary “Promise you will wake me if you need anything” he sighed as he curled up into the pillows, close enough to nuzzle at her arm.

“I promise” she smiled.

“... Wake me in one hour” he yawned.

“Of course” she petted his head, she had absolutely no intention of doing that.

Plumette settled down herself and closed her eyes while Lumière's breathing evened out and he was fast asleep, unfortunately it seemed she was right and wasn't ready to sleep after her long unplanned nap, the prospect of a long dull night a head of her unpleasant. When she had grown bored of trying to dream she found watching her beloved rest far more interesting, her fingers gently running through his auburn hair.

After some time the door creaked open and she was surprised to see Belle peeking around its frame at her. “Miss?” she beckoned her in with a wave of her hand, a small smile appearing on the girl's' face as she scuttled in and carefully shut the door. “Please do not wake him, he needs the rest” she nodded towards Lumière curled into her side, a finger upon her lips. Belle tiptoed over and sat herself on the wooden stool that sat at Plumette's side of the bed, books clutched in her arms. “Is something troubling you Miss? It is very late”

Belle shrugged “I found myself awake so I thought I would check on you, how are you?”

“I am alright, the medicine works well enough, although I am certainty not ready to give my thanks to that doctor” she pouted.

“I'm sorry, that man was an arse, Mrs Potts certainly gave him a piece of her mind down in the kitchen, I never thought she could be so vicious”

“First rule of the castle mademoiselle, never anger Mrs Potts”

Belle giggled before looking down at her books “I thought perhaps I could read to you? Or if you prefer I can leave these here for you? Of course if you are not interested never mind” she rambled a little, self concious.

Plumette smiled at her, she knew Belle was only trying to comfort her in the way she knew best, she wasn't very confident talking to people unless it was about books or she was reading out loud to them. “I would like that very much, Miss”

Belle beamed at her “I brought a few different things, I asked Cogsworth earlier what you liked and he said stories with magic … but, um well” she paused.

"I am afraid I've quite lost my appetite for fairy tales” Plumette frowned, and what a shame it was there had been nothing she liked more when she was younger but being trapped in an enchanted castle for a decade was a sure way of making even the most passionate magic lovers loose that enjoyment.

“Anything here you would like?” Belle questioned, lifting up each individual book for inspection.

Of course Romeo and Juliet would be there, the maid smiled to herself until an aged copy of Gulliver's Travels her gaze “That one, s'il vous plait” she suddenly recalled memories of being a young girl and sitting in the library with an Adam who had just learnt to walk perched on her knees while the late Princess read to the pair of them from this very book, that wonderful time feeling so far away.

“Oh, I haven't been here yet” Belle wondered aloud.

“It is a journey across the sea, quite the adventure for you” Plumette had by now become familiar with the personal way Belle talked about books and she honestly found it very endearing.

The girl nodded eagerly, opening the book and turning to the first page while Plumette settled back further into the bed. “My father had a small estate in Nottinhamshire; I was the third of five sons...”

She let her voice wash over her soothingly, while the fire crackled and Lumière slept beside her until she eventually too was asleep.

#plumiere #lumiette #plumette #lumiere #batb #batb2017 #batb 2017 #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast2017 #beauty and the beast 2017 #fic

[this-book-has-been-loved]

Singularity: Chapter 8

AU where instead of landing in the trash nebula, Pidge finds herself on the same planet as a certain Galra prison camp.

(Holt family reunion fic; no romantic relationships)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Read it on Ao3

Read it on FFN

Part III: Stardust Chapter 8: Beings

Something inside her had broken.

After their rescue mission to Serva had failed, the atmosphere in the castle had gone somber. They felt like they were waiting—for what, they didn’t know. But the tension hung in the air, leaving a distinctly unfinished tinge.

After nearly a quintant-and-a-half of everyone avoiding the topic, Pidge firmly pushed it out of her thoughts.

Stay distracted, she recited. Keep yourself focused on other things. Put it out of your mind. Don’t think about it.

And so she did what she best: buried her feelings and got to work on whatever tech-related problem needed her attention.

Taking a moment to steel herself, she knocked on Shiro’s door.

“Come in.”

The door slid open, and Shiro stood up a bit straighter at seeing her. “Pidge?”

“Keith told me there were some coordinates or something encoded in your arm,” she said, jumping straight to the point. “Should we take a look at that?”

He paused, glancing down at his prosthetic and then back to her. “That…can wait. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she snapped. She took a deep shaky breath, steadying herself. “The best thing we can do for my family is to take down the Galra empire,” she continued softly, looking down at the floor. “And if the next step to that is finding some mysterious coordinates programmed into your arm, then that’s what we should do.” She met his gaze, and they stared at one another for a moment.

Shiro exhaled and nodded once. “Okay. Let’s get everyone else.”

The days passed in a blur. The traveled from Thaldecon to Olkarion to Taujeer to the Unilu swap moon/space mall—constantly hopping throughout the galaxies. When she wasn’t fighting, she was working. Upgrading the cloaking for her lion, trying to see if she could equip her podship with the cloaking (unfortunately she couldn’t seem to figure out how to integrate it into her armor), studying the inner workings of the castle, decryption of all the data downloads (and partial downloads) they’d been collecting, reading through and analyzing and taking notes on any data she could get her hands on….

She wasn’t sleeping as much. Her brain tended to run wild at night, bringing back painful memories she’d rather not relive. No—it was easier to stay awake, to keep busy, to pour herself into her work.

And now, finally, they’d made it to the Blade of Marmora’s headquarters.

Where she was stuck with nothing to do for two days while Shiro and Keith spoke with the Galra rebels.

She sat in her chair in the bridge, her fingers holding tight to the seat. “I wish I was in there,” she muttered. “Whatever’s going on in there has gotta be way more exciting than just sitting here and waiting.” Her leg was bouncing impatiently; distantly, she wondered how long that had been going on. “This is agonizing.”

“I don’t know if I’d say agonizing,” Lance called from where he was sprawled out in his own chair. “Kinda nice getting to relax for once.”

“Mm, I’m gonna have to agree with Pidge on this one,” Hunk said. “I’d kind of like to know what’s going on rather than just…speculating.”

“I wanted to meet them,” Pidge said, more to herself than to the others in the room. “If they have double agents or whatever infiltrating Zarkon’s ranks, I want to talk to them.” She pulled her legs up into her chair and hugged them to her chest. “They might be able to give me some answers.”

“Well, it’s going to be a while before we hear anything back from them,” Coran said, chipper as always. “So we’ll just have to wait until then.”

Pidge let out a scream of frustration, curling further into herself. “I. Hate. WAITING.”

“Easy there, Pigeon,” Lance told her, sitting up. “Come on, I’m sure we can find something to do to pass the time.”

Hunk lit up. “Oh hey, that reminds me! I think I may have found a way to hook up that video game you guys bought back at that space mall!”

Lance brightened considerably at that. “Hunk, have I told you recently how much I love you?”

Hunk grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. “You could afford to say it more.”

Allura sighed, tapping at her display screen. “Well, while you go do that, Coran and I will stay here and monitor the base. Be on alert in case something goes wrong.”

Lance saluted as he sauntered across the bridge. “You got it, Princess.” He stopped by Pidge’s chair, where she was still resting her forehead on her knees and grumbling to herself. He crouched down beside her, gently prodding her side. “Hey Pidge. Pigeon. Pidgey. Pidgeroo. Pidge-asaurus. Pidgeotto.”

“What, Lance?” she snapped

“Ya wanna go play some Mercury Gameflux Two?”

She sighed, relenting, letting him drag her out of her chair. “Yeah. I could use some mindless video games right about now.”

Lance had crashed.

After several hours of gameplay and complaining (“Come on, Pidge, winning’s not winning when your opponent doesn’t have their heart in it.”), he had passed out on the lounge’s sofa, the mice curled up on his chest, leaving Pidge and Hunk alone.

Halfway through their third round together, Hunk pressed the pause button.

Pidge almost didn’t notice at first, just kept pressing buttons. Confused, she turned to Hunk, to find him watching her in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the paused game. “Peachy.”

Hunk sighed. “Pidge, I’m going to be honest with you. You haven’t been the same since Serva. It’s been over a week. Don’t think we haven’t all noticed. You’re barely eating. You haven’t been sleeping. You’re overworking yourself, Katie.” At the use of her birth name, she stilled, and her hands clenched. “We’re worried about you,” Hunk continued, reaching out to rest a hand on her back. “We all are.”

She flinched away from his touch, and her grip tightened on the controller. Her hands were shaking. “I don’t need your pity,” she muttered. “Can we—can we just go back to the game now?”

“Pidge, please—”

She let out a frustrated yell, throwing her controller to the ground. “No! I am sick and tired of everyone treating me like I’m so…so…fragile!! I’m not going to break!” She took a deep breath, collecting herself. “I’m…I’m fine.” Her voice broke. “I’m going to be fine.”

He was silent for a moment, then carefully reached out to her again. He placed his hand on her back, and this time she let him. “You know…it’s okay to not be fine.”

“You don’t understand,” she muttered.

“I’d like to.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“I know,” he said simply. “The thing is, Pidge…you don’t need to. You don’t have to do everything on your own. We’re all right here.”

“Ugh!” She buried her head in her hands. “You don’t understand,” she repeated, more desperately. “I have to be okay. I have to keep going. I can’t let this control me and get in the way of things. If we don’t stop Zarkon, then who will?” She was frantic, her voice rising in pitch with every word. “How else am I supposed to help them? I—how can I call myself a defender of the universe if I can barely hold myself together?! How can I be a Voltron paladin if I can’t even do that?!”

“Well of course you’re a paladin,” Hunk replied, as though it were the simplest thing. “Green chose you, Pidge. There’s no changing that. You’re the Green Paladin. But you know what else you are?”

“What?” she muttered.

“Human.”

At that, she looked up.

“You’re human, Pidge. You’re allowed to have feelings. You’re allowed to deal with those. You don’t have to keep pushing them away—pushing all of us away.”

The mice had stirred, abandoning Lance’s chest to instead curl up against her legs. She sighed, absently petting Platt’s head. “I know,” she murmured. “I just…I’m used to dealing with stuff myself, and….” She shrugged. “I’m tired.”

Hunk rubbed her back. “I think you need to get some rest.”

She shook her head weakly. “It’s worse then,” she whispered. “When my mind starts wandering. I need to stay focused. I…I can’t….”

He sighed, pulling her fully into his arms. “Alright,” he said. “Then stay here. Lance and I will keep you company.”

“Lance is asleep.”

“As you should be.”

She curled in on herself. “I can’t,” she said again. “Not…not yet. Can we just…go back to the game?”

He gave her an askance look. “Promise me you’ll tell us when something’s wrong?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

He smiled, reaching forward to pick up her controller and handing it back to her. “Alright. Thank you, Pidge.” He un-paused, and the game flickered back to life.

Pidge leaned up against him, resting her head against his chest. “Thank you, Hunk,” she told him firmly. “You’re the best.”

“Love you too, Katie.”

They met the Red Lion in its hangar.

Keith stumbled out of the cockpit, followed by Shiro and two other figures. And if Pidge thought Keith looked a bit worse for wear, she didn’t say anything. After briefly introducing them to their Galra companions, Keith and Shiro exchanged a meaningful glance.

“And…,” Keith seemed hesitant to add, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Allura frowned. “What’s wrong? Keith, you look exhausted. What happened?”

Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “That’s what we need to talk about,” he said. “Can we go somewhere else?”

The Princess sent a cold glance towards the Galra—Kolivan and Antok—then turned back to Shiro and Keith. “Of course. We should move to the bridge. Kolivan and Antok can wait for us in the conference room.”

“Keith, you look like you’re about to collapse,” Hunk said as they walked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“‘M fine,” Keith mumbled. “Just…haven’t slept.”

“Dude, you realize that’s the exact same excuse Pidge uses, right?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Shut up,” she said, shoving Hunk lightly. “You mere mortals may need sleep. But Keith and I are of a higher calling.”

“A higher calling,” Lance repeated dryly.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Pidge, you live off coffee and spite.”

“Damn straight.”

Keith didn’t say anything. Instead, he waited until they’d made it to the bridge, with Kolivan and Antok waiting in the next room. With everyone’s attention on him, he took a deep breath. “A lot happened while we were at the Blade’s headquarters,” he started. With that, he delved into explanation, going over the knife he’d carried and the trials he’d faced, all culminating with the way his blade had awoken. “And Kolivan mentioned,” he finished, nearly stumbling over the words, “that…well, that would only be possible if…if Galra blood ran in my veins.”

He was met by silence.

After a long moment, Allura spoke, her voice chilling. “What?”

Keith winced, but it was Shiro who answered. “Keith is part Galra,” he repeated, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “We don’t know how much, but that’s not important. We just thought that as part of this team, you all deserved to know.”

There was another pause. “If you’ll excuse me,” Allura said icily, “I should tend to our guests.”

She left the room without another word. With a stammered apology (“I—I’m sorry. I should talk to her….”), Coran had left only steps behind her. As for the rest of the team, none of them really knew how to respond.

Keith fidgeted anxiously. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s pretty much exactly the reaction I was expecting.” He pulled away from Shiro, stalking towards one of the other sets of doors leading out of the bridge.

“Wait,” Lance stammered. “Keith!”

But the Red Paladin had already stormed out of the bridge.

Shiro sighed. “Give him some space. In the meantime, we should talk with Kolivan and Antok about our next steps against Zarkon.”

She found him in the lounge.

Allura, Coran, Shiro, and Lance were on the bridge with Kolivan and Antok, discussing their plan for taking down the Galra Empire. Hunk had decided to take this opportunity to catch up on lost sleep. Pidge was tempted to join him, but instead found herself wandering the halls of the castle.

She didn’t realize she was looking for Keith until she walked in on him.

He was slouching on one of the sunken couches, arms crossed over his chest, as he glared out the window at the stars surrounding them.

She knew that he’d heard her enter; she noticed the way his eyes flickered towards the door, the way his posture tightened almost imperceptibly, as though he wanted nothing more than to run away and hide.

And he looked exhausted. As she came up to stand beside him, Pidge noticed the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged against the back of the couch, the bruises blossoming across his collarbone and disappearing into his shirt.

She stopped about a foot away from him, but he didn’t turn towards her. “Keith. Buddy. You should get some rest.”

He didn’t move. “I’m fine.”

She raised an eyebrow. Well, doesn’t that sound familiar. “No, you’re kinda not,” she told him. “If what you and Shiro told us is accurate, you’ve been on your feet fighting for nearly two days straight. You need to get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“Keith, you haven’t slept in two days.”

He gave her a withering glance. “Like you’re really one to talk.”

She sighed, collapsing onto the sofa beside him. “Yeah, alright, fair enough.”

They fell into silence, tense and charged. The words hovered unspoken between them––neither of them wanting to make the first move.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity, Pidge took a deep breath. “Can we…can we talk? About the whole…Galra thing?”

He closed his eyes in resignation, somehow managing to curl up even further into himself, still stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze. “Pidge, I’m sorry—”

“No. Shut up.” He froze, surprised at her vehemence, and finally turned to meet her gaze. She bit her lip, trying to find the right words. “Just shut up and let me say things.” He motioned for her to continue and she nodded, steeling herself. “The Galra have taken everything from me,” she murmured, looking towards the starry expanse through the window. “My father…my brother…and just when I get him back they take him away again, and so they’re still just out of reach. I hate the Galra for all they’ve done to me.”

He turned his attention towards the floor. “Pidge, if you’re trying to cheer me up—”

“Let me finish,” she said, elbowing him playfully. “What I’m trying to get at here…is that’s not you.”

He stilled, glancing up at her curiously.

“That’s not who you are,” she continued. “None of that defines you. You’re still the same Keith you were yesterday.” She smiled at him. “You’re still you. I know that. You know that. The rest of the team knows that, too. You’re still the Red Paladin, and you’re still our friend. You’re still part of this team…part of this family. And that’s not gonna change—Galra or not.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “I trust you.”

Keith flushed, smiling wanly as his grip on her hand tightened. “I—Pidge….”

She rested her head on his shoulder, curling up on the sofa beside him. “Now I don’t know about you,” she began casually, “but I know I haven’t really gotten much sleep these past few days. Or weeks. And I am tired.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her. “Believe it or not, I think I can relate to that.”

Kolivan and Antok had returned to the Marmora base, to wait until preparations were complete and to keep in contact with their infiltrator.

Everyone else waited in the bridge, going over the details and specifics of their plan once again.

“For this to succeed, we’re gonna need to split up,” Coran intoned as they all stood in the bridge. “We all have a task to do. If any one of us fails, the entire plan fails.”

“Right,” Hunk mumbled. “No pressure or anything.”

Keith clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

Shiro nodded towards them. “Keith, Hunk: you’ll be in charge of getting the scaultrite. Pidge and Lance and I will head to Beta Traz to free Slav. Coran will go to Olkarion to coordinate the construction of the teludav, and Allura will get a crystal from the Balmera. Once that’s done, we’ll pick up Kolivan and Antok and head for Zarkon’s base.”

“And then Zarkon’s going down,” Lance said with a grin.

“Alright, the faster we get this done, the better,” Shiro continued. “Is everyone ready?” Nodding from around the room. “Good. Let’s move ou—”

Then the display screen starting flashing red.

“Zarkon again?” Pidge asked, already heading towards her station. “I thought we’d finally gotten him off our tail.”

“It’s not an attack,” Coran told them, typing away at his control panel. “We’re picking up a distress beacon.”

That didn’t do much to lessen the tension in the room. Allura and Shiro exchanged worrisome glances. We’re stretched too thin.

It was Keith who spoke. “We don’t have time for that. Kolivan told us how to stop Zarkon; we need to focus on the issue at hand.”

Allura pursed her lips. “The Paladin Code states that we must help all those in need.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “When was it?” he continued sarcastically. “Oh, right. We were on our way to the Balmera when we were hailed by Rolo and Nyma.” He crossed his arms. “Hey, does anyone else remember that? The last time we got sidetracked from an urgent mission by a distress beacon like this?” he asked pointedly. “It ended with me handcuffed to a tree while Rolo and Nyma stole my lion. Ringing a bell?”

“Not every distress beacon is gonna be a trap set by bounty hunters,” Hunk tried to reason.

“I’m just saying.” Lance held up his hands in surrender. “Maybe we should stick to the plan at hand. You know, stopping Zarkon?”

Pidge crossed her arms. “I’m not turning my back on anyone who needs help.”

Shiro turned to Coran. “Where is it coming from?”

Coran pressed a few more buttons, and the image of a planet appeared on the main display screen. “A planet called Vallen,” he told them. “Our records show it was taken over by the Galra hundreds of years ago. They’ve…well, it seems they’ve been using it as…as a prison.”

The tension in the air only tightened. No one said it, but it still hung unspoken in the air: like Serva.

Shiro didn’t react outwardly––only continued to watch Coran. “And the distress beacon?”

“It appears to be coming from the prison. The prisoners there are rebelling, and are requesting backup.”

Pidge ignored the looks the others sent her, keeping her eyes pinned to the display. “We have to help them.”

Allura sighed. “As much as I think we should stay on track with our preparations, Pidge is right. We cannot ignore their calls for help simply because we’ve set our sights on a bigger target.”

Lance sighed. “Alright. Guess Slav will have to wait.”

“Coran, send them a response,” Shiro commanded. “Let them know that Voltron is on it’s way. Allura, we’re gonna need a wormhole. The rest of you: suit up.”

They exited the wormhole and Vallen came into focus. The planet, a mass of grays and blues, hung before them, suspended in the stars.

Shiro took it in calmly, nodding. “Alright, bring us in.”

“Ah, slight issue with that.”

Allura frowned. “What is it, Coran?”

Coran was fiddling with the data readouts of the scanners. “There’s a Galra ship coming in ahead of us.”

Keith’s head snapped up in surprise. “What? That’s impossible!”

Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder, then turned to Coran. “Are you sure it’s Galra?”

Before Coran could answer, the ship appeared before them. And along with it, multiple smaller ships, pods, and fighters, all blasting into view one by one. An entire fleet, in all it’s imposing purple glory.

“Pretty sure,” Coran squeaked.

“This can’t be good,” Lance muttered.

“How did they find us?” Allura demanded. “They must have known we were coming.” Pidge didn’t miss the sidelong glance she cast towards Keith.

“I thought Zarkon couldn’t track us through the Black Lion anymore,” Hunk fretted.

Pidge frowned. “They must’ve intercepted the distress call.”

Shiro set his jaw. “It doesn’t matter how they found us right now. We should get to our lions.”

“Wait.”

They all paused at Coran’s outburst, turning towards him curiously.

“Coran?” Allura pressed.

He took a deep breath, looking up from the console. “Incoming transmission, Princess.”

She seemed dumbstruck. “From…the Galra command ship?”

Shiro shot her a concerned glance, then turned back to Coran. “Accept it,” he commanded warily. “Everyone, be ready. Whatever they have to say, it can’t be good.”

The display screen flickered, and the view of Vallen was replaced by a vidlink with the Galra ship. A single Galra officer took up most of the screen, his chin pointed up in disdain.

“Voltron,” the Galra sneered. “I am Commander Reggar.”

Allura pursed her lips, glaring at the screen. “To what do we owe this call?”

“I come offering a bargain,” he told them. “I believe you have something I want. Namely, the Voltron lions. In return, it seems that I have something you want. Or, rather, someone. Two someones, who I’m sure some of your Paladins would be very pleased to see.”

Before Pidge could say anything, the image on the display screen changed. The camera panned over to show two people. Their hands were cuffed behind them, and sentries held them by the arms.

Pidge froze.

Matt.

But no, it wasn’t only Matt.

“Dad?” she whispered.

Ahead of her, Shiro tensed.

“Surrender Voltron,” spoke Reggar’s voice from offscreen, “and guarantee their freedom.”

Matt jerked away from the sentry. “Katie, no, it’s a trap!”

One of the sentries beside him smacked him with the butt of its gun, and he grunted in pain.

Pidge let out a small squeak, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

Lance put a hand on her shoulder protectively, coming to stand a half-step in front of her.

“Let them go, Reggar,” Shiro ordered, his voice steely. “They’re not involved in this.”

“Not involved?” The camera turned to focus back on Reggar, this time with a wider angle so as to keep the prisoners in the background. “Then in that case, perhaps I should simply dispose of them now—”

“No!”

She didn’t realize she had been the one to scream until the words had already left her mouth.

Reggar was smirking in triumph. “As I thought,” he quipped. “You have one varga,” he added. “Don’t disappoint me.” The comm link switched off, and the bridge was filled with silence.

Pidge couldn’t breathe.

Within two ticks of the transmission ending, Lance’s hand had moved from her shoulder to pull her into a hug. “Oh, Pigeon.”

And the rest of the team was there too, circling her, reaching out, their voices swirling around her as everything faded and conflicted and bled together. “Pidge—” “Is she okay?” “We have to do something.” “Katie?” “I’ve got her.”

She gasped in between her sobs, trying to remind herself to breathe. “We—we have—”

“I know,” Lance murmured, rubbing her back. “I know. We will.”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t focus, couldn’t do much of anything other than cry.

Come on, Katie, pull it together, you don’t have time for this, just breathe, Pidge, breathe.

Distantly, she was aware of Shiro saying the same thing: “Deep breaths, Katie. Come on. Breathe with me.”

Her grip on reality tightened, and the tension in her shoulders started to ease.

When her tears slowed and her breathing evened out, she pulled back from the hug, blinking as everything came back into focus.

She was sitting in a heap on the floor (when had that happened?) with Lance kneeling by her on one side and Hunk on the other (hadn’t they done this already?).

Shiro was watching her face intently. “You here?” She nodded, and he reached out to help her back to her feet. “Alright, we need a plan of attack. And fast.”

She felt like her head was spinning. “But—But Zarkon.”

“This takes first priority.”

Pidge wiped at her eyes. “But the Blade—”

“The Blade of Marmora can wait.” Shiro insisted. “This is your family on the line here.”

Keith nodded. “Kolivan will—no, scratch that, Kolivan won’t understand. But you know what? Fuck Kolivan. We’re Voltron. He can’t tell us what to do.”

She didn’t quite laugh, but she felt herself smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Hunk rubbed her back, smiling softly. “‘Course.”

“We’re always gonna stand by you, Pidge,” Lance agreed.

Pidge took another deep breath, still trying to put her nerves at rest. “So?” She looked to Shiro. “What’s the plan?”

#Voltron Legendary Defender #Voltron: Legendary Defender #Voltron #vld #Voltron fanfic #Voltron fanfiction #vld fanfiction #fanfiction #Pidge Gunderson #Katie Holt #Matt Holt #Hunk Garrett #Keith Kogane #Takashi Shirogane #Lance McClain #Singularity #mine #I'm a writer #my writing

[eastofthemoon]

Towards the Sun- Chapter 3

Title: Towards The Sun- Chapter 1 (Part of the What if The Storm Ends? Series)

Rating: PG

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender

Summary:  After the rebels escape, Thace is now staying at the Castle of Lions and Keith has questions for him that can no longer be put on hold. However, once he gets his answers, Keith is afraid how everyone else will take the news.

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 3

Keith swallowed and tried as he might, he couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t a complete shock, not really with all the evidence and suspicions he had, but hearing it for certain felt so unreal. Thace said nothing, and merely continued to stare at Keith as the boy pulled up a chair and sat.

Keith fiddled with his fingers as he struggled to speak. “Did you..always know who I was?”

Thace took a deep breath and he leaned forward. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t a hundred percent certain until we on Ceinus.” He stared downward at his feet. “I..took a blood sample from you while you slept, and confirmed you shared my DNA.”

Thace’s eyes hardened as he raised his head. “However, I became suspicious the instant I saw your picture in a report we were given about the new paladins.”

“Why?” Keith asked confused as he examined his own hands. “I don’t look anything like a Galra.”

“No,” Thace said with a shake of his head and took a deep breath. “But, you look do look like your mother.”

Keith went still. It had been ages since anyone mentioned that. He recalled neighbors and the odd stranger mentioning the resemblance when he and his mother were out together. The only people to have ever mentioned it was Shiro when Keith had shown him a photo of her.

Keith swallowed as his hands dropped into his lap. “Did you...know she died?”

Thace took a deep sigh. “I was suspicious of it,” he admitted. “She had told me she would tell you about me, but when it was clear you didn’t know, I had to assume something had happened.”

Keith chewed his bottom lip as his memories drifted back to when his mother was in the hospital. She had been so weak those last few days and there had so much she wanted to say.

“I think she tried to when she was in the hospital,” Keith replied softly, “but...she wasn’t exactly coherent in her last few days.”

Thace gave an understanding nod. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I had been there.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed as he felt a flash of anger. “Yeah, why weren’t you? Why did you just abandoned me and Mom?!”

“It’s complicated,” Thace explained.

“Try me,” Keith growled as he dug his fingers into his knees.

Thace shut his eyes in deep thought before he spoke. “I told you I crash landed on Earth when I managed to escape the attack on the rebel base, but what I didn’t mention was I landed not far from where your mother lived.”

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, but he gave a nod. His mother had lived in a small house that had belonged originally to his grandparents. It was outside the city limits and a far distance between actual neighbours. If Thace had crashed near there, barely anyone beside his mother would have seen it.

“She was alarmed about me at first, but eventually I convinced her I merely wish to repair my ship and leave,” Thace continued. “So, she let me hide at her house while I did so.”

He cleared his throat. “It took awhile to complete repairs and well..one thing lead to another and your mother and I fell in love.”

Keith straightened his posture as he prepared for his next question. “If you loved her, why did you leave her then?”

“I knew I had to return to the rebellion and I couldn’t drag your mother into it,” Thace explained. “I had planned to leave as soon as possible, but then you came along.”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“You were a ‘surprise’ to say the least. We had no idea that humans and Galran had the ability to reproduce,” Thace continued with a cough. “I didn’t dare leave your mother, especially since she refused to go see a doctor.”

Keith frowned. “Was it because I was part Galra?” It would confirm his suspicions of his mother’s reluctance of taking him to see a doctor as a child.

“Yes,” Thace replied as he folded his arms. “She was terrified of someone from the Garrison finding out and taking you away to study.” He gave a half smirk. “I will admit, we were both quite relieved to see you took after her when in appearance.”

Keith thought back to how the Garrison reacted to Shiro arriving back on Earth. They had been so desperate to keep that fact that him, Sam and Matt had been abducted by aliens in the first place. Yeah, he could understand his mother’s fear.

“Your birth had been difficult since your mother refused to go to a hospital,” Thace continued, “but she did it and I didn’t dare leave her side for a full Earth year.”

“You didn’t?” Keith said in a shaky voice.

“You are a hybrid and we weren’t certainly how healthy you would be.” Thace straightened his posture. “I wanted to be certain you would survive and that your mother would recover.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “So, it would be alright for you to leave?”

Thace paused and shook his head. “I..honestly didn’t want to. Truthfully, I seriously considered living out the rest of my life with you and your mother.” “Well, you clearly didn’t make that decision,” Keith said bitterly.

“No,” Thace said as he shook his head, “because your mother’s discovery of the Blue Lion changed all of that.”

Keith froze and his eyes widened. “What? Mom did?”

Thace nodded as he rose. “Your mother, she wasn’t quite certain how, but not long after you were born she felt something..some kind of energy calling out to her.”

Keith frowned as he shook his head in disbelief. “It was the Blue Lion wasn’t?”

Thace paused and blinked. “Yes...how did you know that?

“Because I’ve felt the same energy on Earth,” Keith explained. “It partly how we found the Blue Lion.”

“Ah,” Thace said slowly as his shoulders slumped. “Then you truly are your mother’s son.” His eyes soften. “Your mother and I traced the energy she was sensing to the cave where the Blue Lion was.” Thace took a deep sigh. “And it was that exact moment I knew I couldn’t stay.”

“Why?” Keith asked.

“Because I knew it was only a matter of time before Zarkon came to claim it, and when he did both you and your mother would be in danger.” He paused and as his hands tightened. “I couldn’t stay.”

“So, that’s it?” Keith asked as he tossed his hands up in the air. “You just took off and left.”

“Not quite,” Thace stated. “Truthfully, your mother and I had seriously considered you two coming with me.”

Keith opened and shut his mouth. “You two did?” So, he could have grown up in the resistance? Like those other alien children had.

“Yes, but in the end I left the decision up to your mother,” Thace explained, “and she decided that remaining on Earth would be the safest option for you.”

Keith swallowed, a million thoughts were rattling through his brain but he couldn’t focus on any of them right now. “So, you left us?”

Thace nodded. “I gave the dagger to your mother to give to you when you were old enough, and after our heartfelt goodbyes I went in my ship to return to the rebellion.”

His shoulders slumped. “I had hoped that Zarkon and his empire would be destroyed, and I could return to both of you, but I came to realize that was a fool’s dream.”

Taking down an empire that’s been ruling for ten thousand years? A bit yeah, Keith thought. Although, that is what we’re trying to do with Voltron, so guess we’re not that much different.

“Keith, are you alright?” Thace asked concerned.

The boy looked up and rubbed his eyes. “I..I don’t know, I mean” he rubbed his neck as he stood. “I’m grateful for the answers, but I...there’s a lot to take in.” He turned around to leave. “I need some time to think.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he glanced around to Thace.

“Before you go, there’s one thing I should tell you,” Thace said slowly.

Keith fidgeted and fiddled with his gloves. “What’s that?”

Thace sighed as his eyes soften. “It may not mean much, but please believe me when I say that leaving you was the hardest decision I ever had to make in my entire life.”

Keith wanted to say something in reply, but he was unable to find the words and could only nod before leaving the room. He wandered mindlessly down the hall until he reached his room and collapsed on the bed.

It was only then he realized he left his dagger behind, but he was in no mood to retrieve it now. He draped an arm over his eyes as he tried to not imagine on how he would tell Shiro and the others.

0808080808080808080808080808080808080808080

Keith had felt so drained, and had tried to take a nap, but found he was unable to do so. He knew it wouldn’t be long until dinner which meant he would be seeing the others soon. Keith wasn’t sure how he could face them without everyone suspecting something was wrong, especially if Allura insisted Thace joined them.

Thus, Keith found himself wandering to the lab and was relieved to see Pidge by herself as she madly typed at her laptop. She vaguely glanced up, but then did a double take when she seem to clue in it was Keith.

“Oh..uh, hey?” she said with a wave. “How’s it going?”

Keith grimaced as he pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “It’s...going.”

Pidge’s hands stopped tapping and she crossed her legs over her chair. “You doing okay?” Pidge said in a hesitant tone as she adjusted her glasses.

Keith raised his head, uncertain if he was ready to discuss, but before he found the words leaving his mouth of their own freewill. “I talked to Thace.”

Pidge shut her eyes and removed her glasses to clean them as she turned around in her seat to face him. “And?”

Keith leaned against the table as he ran his hand through his hair. “I asked and..he confirmed my suspicions.” He suck the air through his teeth. “Thace is my dad, Pidge.”

Pidge was silent as she drummed her fingers against her knee. “I see.”

Keith pouted slightly at her. “You don’t look that shocked?”

Pidge choked and coughed to clear her throat. “Oh, uh why would I? I mean, you and I were both theorizing that could be the case, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith muttered as he straightened his posture. “You have a point there.”

Pidge let out a breath of air like she had been holding it in, and then inched closer to Keith. “And how are you taking this news?” She touched his shoulder. “Now that it’s official I mean?”

Keith massaged his forehead. “To be honest, I’m somewhere between relieved, shocked and some Hunk style freaking out.”

“Can’t exactly blame you there,” Pidge said as she leaned back, “but you know you’re still you, right? That hasn’t changed.”

Keith swallowed. “Yeah, I know.” He buried his face into his arms. “But I still don’t know how to tell the others.”

Pidge gave his arm a squeeze. “It’ll be fine, I already told you that, remember?” she said. “The guys will be shocked too, but it won’t be as bad as you think.”

That’s easy to say, but it’s hard to believe, Keith thought as he shook his head.

“I know I have to tell them,” Keith said slowly, “but I need some time to...process this.”

Pidge looked tempted to argue, but she gave nod. “Yeah, sure, but just don’t wait too long.” She tucked her hands into her lap. “Not to rush you, but the longer that Thace is on the ship the more Shiro is going to suspect something is up with you two.”

She poked his arm. “Also, the fact that you have Galra DNA will be useful to access Galra tech since it means we don’t have to use just Shiro’s arm all the time.”

Keith gave a slow nod. “I will, promise,” he said as he rose. “I’m going to sit in my room for a bit.”

“Okay, but I’m here if you need an ear to listen,” Pidge replied.

“I know,” Keith replied, “and it helps.”

He offered a small smile as he left and as his mind continued to struggle on what to do.

#voltron #thace #what if the storm ends? #vld #fanfic #galra keith #my writing

[cubedcoffeecake]

The Cost of a Mistake

It was early in the morning, and the sun had not yet risen into view. The clouds were a rosy peach color, and everyone was still fast asleep. Well, not quite everyone.

"Psssssst. Pitch? C'mon, wake up, wake up!"

Jack Frost Lunanoff was the youngest of five children, merely 5 years of age. He was unusual in appearance; his hair was of the purest shade of white imaginable, and his skin was a ghostly pale. There was a reason for his appearance, too. Jack had been born with the incredible gift of being able to control winter. Ice, snow, frost, and even the wind could be created and controlled at his command.

He was an energetic lad, and loved to play, as many children of his age did. Unlike most children, however, Jack was a prince. He was the youngest in line, having three older brothers and an older sister, but he was a prince all the same.

The brother he was currently trying to wake was Pitch Black Lunanoff, the second oldest in the family. He was 16 years of age, but was extremely close to Jack. Pitch had a striking appearance as well. His hair was jet black, and his skin a pale grey. His looks were also related to a supernatural gift. He could control the shadows, and peoples' nightmares. He could even give nightmares.

Neither's abilities caused their relationship to be the least bit stressed. Quite the opposite: Their favorite occupation was playing with their powers together. Every day they would discover a new trick, and found immense joy in showing the other. They were also comrades in crime: They were known throughout the castle for their constant pranks.

"Go back to sleep," Pitch grumbled. Unlike Jack, he was not at all a morning person. He despised mornings. And the fact that he would often stay up far into the night to observe the stars and take advantage of the darkness for using his powers didn't help his ability to wake the next morning.

Pitch rolled over in his bed, turning away from Jack while simultaneously dumping him off the bed. Pitch settled down to go back to sleep, but Jack wasn't going to left him off that easy. He sat on the floor for a moment, pouting and thinking.

An idea came to Jack, and he climbed back up onto Pitch's bed. "Do you wanna have a snowball fight?" Pitch couldn't help but smile. He had a soft spot for Jack, and Jack had a soft spot for snowball fights. With a faked sigh, Pitch sat up, causing Jack to- quietly- squeak in success and slide off the bed.

He grabbed Pitch's hand and dragged the half-asleep prince down several flights of stairs to a large ballroom. Running to the middle of the room, Jack stomped his foot onto the ground. Ice climbed across the ground from where he had stepped to the walls. It swirled in beautiful patterns, decorating everything. Jack then held up his hands. Face scrunched in concentration, Jack formed a glowing blue sphere in his hands. Once satisfied with its size, he moved both hands sharply upward, throwing the sphere up into the air. It exploded, and snow began to fall heavily onto the two princes.

Pitch stared around himself in awe, now fully awake. He had taught Jack how to make an impromptu snow storm, but the ice rink was new.

His thoughts were interrupted when a snowball smacked Pitch in the face. He laughed and ducked into a nearby shadow. Their snowball fights were quite a sight to behold. Jack could control the snow and fly, but Pitch could disappear and reappear anywhere using his shadows.

After nearly an hour of having snowball fights, building snow-people, ice skating, making snow angels, etc., the two had settled on playing one of Jack's favorite games. He would leap through the air, and Pitch would use his shadows to catch Jack before he could fall.

This time went no differently than normal... until Jack started jumping faster than Pitch could conjure shadows to catch him with. "Slow down!" Pitch yelled. His tone was frustrated, but his face showed his worry. 'What if I'm not able to catch Jack?'

Jack ignored his brother's warning. With the next leap he took, Pitch panicked. He sent a burst of shadows Jack's way... but in the process, he slipped on the ice. His aim was off, and the blast hit Jack in the head.

"Jack!" Pitch's voice was filled with terror and dread as he ran to his brother, now curled up, unconscious, on the floor. He was old enough to know well how badly his brother could be hurt.

For years, all of the staff of his castle, and even his own siblings, had been wary of his powers. They feared them, and most disliked Pitch for them. He had always ignored them because his father- the just king Manfred Lunar Lunanoff- had always been supportive of him. His mother had always been as well; but alas, his dear mother, to whom he had been very close, had died while giving birth to Jack. But rather than disliking Jack for his mother's death, he became exceedingly close to the boy. Closer than any of the rest of his family, or the staff. And for years, he hadn't even thought about the harm some had claimed his powers could do.

But now, it was all he could think of.

Pitch pushed his thoughts and concerns for Jack's health before all else. He lifted his brother up in his arms and ran through the palace until he found his father. His father was a morning person, like Jack, and was already awake and about.

When Pitch burst into the room his father quickly turned round in surprise. No one ever rushed into his room like that. But seeing his two sons- namely Jack- those surprised thoughts instantly disappeared.

"What happened?" King Lunar asked Pitch, taking Jack from his arms.

"We were playing in the ballroom and- and I accidentally hit him in the head with my powers," Pitch panted. His crystalline, golden eyes were glassy and brimming with tears that were threatening to spill; his voice edged with terror and concern. "Will he be alright?"

King Lunar lay Jack on his bed and looked him over. He gave a small sigh. A grave sigh. Pitch's fear grew even greater. "He will be fine. He will simply spend the rest of the day, and possibly into the next, in an undisturbable sleep. Likely having nightmares. Once the nightmares have run their course, I will be able to wake him with little problem."

"Is there nothing I can do? Can I take them away from him?"

"No, we must simply wait." Pitch nodded brusquely, and glanced at his brother again, before running to his bedroom. He closed the door and curled up into a ball, his back to the door. He cried into his arms, soaking his black nightclothes with his tears. Shadows engulfed the room in a still, eerie darkness.

Normally, Pitch's shadows were a strange, beautiful, almost warming substance. They were very different from normal shadows. But now, these shadows were cold, and dangerous. They both looked and felt different, changing due to their master's emotions. He was afraid. So, so terribly afraid.

He knew that he had hurt his brother. Thousands of thoughts swirled around inside his head. 'What will everyone say?' 'Will Jack be angry with me?' 'I should've been able to stop that from happening!' 'Are my powers evil, like they always said?'

When the rest of his family met for breakfast, they groaned at the absence of their two brothers. Pitch missing wasn't completely strange, he missed meals often. But when he and Jack both were not there, it usually meant that they were preparing a prank.

Their concern for pranks was soon wiped from their thoughts when they saw their father's face as he entered.

"Father, what is the matter?" Asked Toothiana. She was the only daughter of the royal family, and the youngest, next to Jack. She was 9 years of age, but wiser than most her age. She, like Jack, could control the wind. However, her control over it was far superior to Jack's. She had long, waste length hair of a deep, rich brown color. Her eyes were an unnatural, but very beautiful, amethyst. She was rather small in stature, but could talk more than anyone in the entire kingdom. Her nickname was Tooth, both because of her name and because of her strange fascination with teeth, even at her young age.

On her right was the eldest of the Lunanoff children, Sanderson. He was 17 years of age, a mere year older than Pitch, and heir to the throne of Kuu. -The kingdom was named for the moon. The moon was the center of life there, but I shall get to that later.- Sanderson was small, about the size of Tooth. He had a lively, golden complexion, and a mop of sandy-golden colored hair. His eyes were a brownish-gold. His physique was a bit rounded.

Like his siblings, he too had powers. He controlled light and dreams. His specialty was more dreams than light, though he could bend and create it. It took the staff years to become accustomed to him randomly glowing. He had been nicknamed Sandy, mainly because he created his dreams using what he called 'dreamsand'.

The most important thing one must know about him was that he was mute. He always carried a small book and ink pot with him, and had to write anything he wanted to say.

He and Pitch were complete opposites in nearly every way. Pitch was tall and thin, he was short and rounded. He was light, Pitch was shadows. He was dreams, Pitch was nightmares. He was kind, Pitch was narcissistic. He preferred company, Pitch preferred solitude. Well, both had exceptions to that rule, but still. They did not get along in the slightest. They had always been more like enemies than brothers. Pitch was the one person missing from the list of people that Sandy was unconditionally sweet to.

That being said, next to Pitch, Sandy was the closest to Jack. Because of this, the two had been on civil terms recently.

On Tooth's left was their other brother. His full name was Aster Bunnymund Lunanoff, but most called him either Aster or Bunny. He was tall and sturdily built, especially for only being 13 years of age. After spending several summers in a distant kingdom undergoing military training -The program was designed to start teaching princes how to fight at a young age, so that it was a part of life for them, and not something new to them when they were older and received more training at the traditional age.- he had picked up a strong accent. He had a fiery temper, and often spoke things he regretted. His hair was an unnatural grayish-blue color, and his eyes strikingly green.

Next to Sandy, Bunny hated Pitch more than just about anyone else. He believed him to be a lying, cheating, despicable person. Unlike the rest of his family, he did not particularly like his youngest brother, Jack, either. The pranks and 'cute', 'childish' things that he did were very frustrating to Bunny. He could be rather harsh and sharp with Jack. Despite this, Bunny refused to tolerate anyone else, beside himself, being the slightest bit unkind to the boy. He couldn't stand that Jack and Pitch were so close and spent so much time together.

Bunny didn't spend much time with Jack himself, even when given opportunity, because of Bunny's powers. Bunny controlled plants, and adored nature. Unlike Jack, who loved winter, spring was Bunny's signature season. Warmth and color were up his alley- not snowball fights and iceskating.

"There has been an incident this morning involving Jack and Pitch." Their father's announcement drew instant reactions from all three children present. Tooth disliked Pitch like her brothers, and adored Jack. She knit her brow, her face a mix of anger and worry. Sandy and Bunny were simply furious. They didn't wait for King Lunar to say that Pitch had done something; they just automatically assumed so.

King Lunar's expression saddened more at his children's reactions. He knew their dislike for Pitch, and found it disappointing. He loved Pitch as much as all of his children. He could never quite grasp just why Pitch was hated, either. Were his powers really that important to them? He had never- never- done anything more than pull a simple prank. He loved to scare his siblings and the staff, but had never caused a single one of them actual harm. Nor had he ever intended to.

"They were playing as normal, when Pitch inadvertently struck Jack with his powers." Bunny leaped from his seat in anger, but the king did not give him time to speak before continuing. "Jack will be fine by morning. He is locked in a nightmare right now, and we must let it run its course. He will be good as new when it is over. Because Pitch was not trying to hurt him, he will forget about the events that occur in his nightmare."

"That sick-" Bunny began, but King Lunar cut him off once more.

"It was not done on purpose."

"Said who? Pitch?! Why would you trust tha word of that lia'?!" Bunny yelled. He stormed out of the room, quickly followed by his siblings. Tooth and Sandy normally wouldn't leave without first being excused... but they forgot their manners as they jumped up and followed Bunny.

King Lunar shook his head. Someday. Someday they would understand. He was a wise man, and knew no little amount of magic. But there was nothing that he could do to make his children see reason. He would just have to wait for them to understand on their own.

Locked in his room, Pitch was trying to calm himself down. He had managed to force the shadows back to their correct places, and had cleaned himself up, so that there was no evidence of him ever having cried. He was 16 years of age: He was far too old to cry.

Pitch heard a hard knock on his door. He straightened himself, pulled back his shoulders, and walked to the door. He opened it, looking as princely as one can in their nightclothes, but before he could register who was at the door, he found himself roughly hitting the floor.

His head span from its impact on the floor, but the haze soon faded enough for him to hear yelling and recognize the voice. Aster. Dread filled Pitch from head to toe. Aster. Aster.

"You monster! You bloody monster! He adores you! An' what do you do? You hurt him! At least maybe now Jackie'll understand how terrible you are!" A blunt object made impact with Pitch's ribcage, and he buckled from the pain. A fist slammed into the left side of his jaw, just barely not too hard to cause him to lose consciousness.

Pitch felt a hand lift him from the floor by his neck. Then his back made him aware that he had been thrown into a wall.

He had lost his eyesight upon realizing who had entered his room; he was too disoriented. But when Pitch felt a foot impact his ribs before he had even fallen to the floor after hitting the wall, something inside him snapped.

His vision cleared, and his eyes narrowed at the enraged figure before him. He may only be 13, but Aster was big for his age, and far fiercer and better trained than Pitch. Pitch had never had an interest in warfare.

Eyes locked with his brother, Pitch silently began to give his shadows commands. A thin band of shadows slithered across the floor and wrapped tightly around Aster's ankle.

Pitch and Aster's eye contact was broken as Aster looked down in shock. The shadows gave a tug, and sent Aster crashing to the floor on his face. Pitch didn't notice Tooth or Sandy standing, shocked, in the doorway staring at them. Pitch's gaze was fixed on Aster as he darkly glared at him. Making a snap decision, Pitch willed the shadowy rope to drag Aster out of the room, before he commanded another clump of shadows to close the door.

The unlocked door was immediately opened, but Pitch created enough shadows over it for the people trying to open it to be unable to overpower them and get in.

He pulled himself up off the floor, trying his hardest to ignore the splitting pain from his likely broken ribs and badly bruising jaw. His back hurt too, just not near as badly.

Pitch's mind whirled. 'What have I done?' Or more importantly, 'What can I do now?'

Suddenly, something happened that would change the course of Pitch's life. A new voice suddenly spoke in his mind. 'Run awayyyy,' it hissed. 'Leave thisss placccce.' Pitch did not have any idea what this voice was or how it got into his head, but those really weren't his greatest worries at the present moment.

After a moment's thought, Pitch did what would really actually change his life. He followed the voice's advice.

He grabbed several things he thought he could use, and changed his clothing. Then Pitch shadow-traveled out of his bed quarters. But before he left the palace; his home; he stopped by one room. The room where Jack lay.

Pitch walked up to his brother's bed, lightly kissed the young child's forehead, whispered to him something the sleeping boy couldn't hear, and, with one last glance over his shoulder, Pitch left the castle that had housed generations of Lunanoffs. He planned on never returning, though he didn't know where he would go.

With the disappearance of Pitch began a very troublesome time for this small kingdom. The great Golden Age of prosper and glory that had been in Kuu for so long ended with the whispered words from Prince Pitch to his brother Prince Jack.

"I am so sorry for everything that I will do from today on. But never forget that you, my dear brother, shall always hold in my heart a very special place."

#rise of the guardians #frozen au #story fragment #fanfiction

[dirtywrat]

Part v

“If you will be under the guiding hand of Cleric Hal, you may as well know my father,” Yvaanell explained to Eriibeus—or Erii, as he would be known—as she walked him through the castle doors. “Hal is the head of Father’s court.”

Eriibeus nodded. “I don’t see why that should be an issue.” He never was one for conversation.

She shot a grin in his direction.

The layout of the first floor was a simple square. The front doors opened to the hall, where the old stone floors and walls were scarcely adorned in decorative rugs and shields. There were simple backless stools around a large circular table, and hanging from the high ceiling was a wrought iron chandelier.

There were no other rooms on this floor, so were it not for the narrow stairs along the left wall giving promise to additional space, or the large window across from the entrance letting in a fresh bask of light, Eriibeus would have felt immensely claustrophobic.

It was hard for him to believe that people lived here. The dust was noticeable immediately, and a draft sent chills across his true skin. He intentionally planned to be here during spring seasons, as the winters or summers of a medieval town were not something he wished to experience in the flesh. The public were coming and going as they suited, sitting at the table to rest with one another. It would have felt cramped enough without the unnecessary company.

Yvaanell stopped them both and she turned to face him. “Here is the great hall.” She extended her hand as though conducting a tour. “Know that our doors are open to commoners. Upstairs you will find the courtroom where my father tends to reside, and one more floor above you will be at the bedchambers.”

All of what Eriibeus had read of these people was being disproved during the short amount of time he spent following Yvaanell. She kindly accepted him into her home and had thus far treated him as her equal. Where was this supposed social aggression now?

“Why do you allow the public inside of your dwellings? Is that not a breach of security?” After he spoke, he hoped that that wasn’t a strange thing to ask.

She did furrow her brow a bit, but responded, “We have nothing to fear here. We have no foreign rivals, and we all know each other within these walls. We only engage with other lands to forge alliances. That is the way of our kingdom.”

“Then you must be rather accepting of outsiders.”

“Many who live here were once outsiders themselves. We believe that keeping our gates open to foreigners means more hands serving towards our efforts.”

Interesting outlook. Eriibeus made a mental note of this to write down later.

She nodded toward the staircase. “Cleric Hal holds her meetings at the chapel but has been talking with my father for some time now. If you’ve come to learn from her, then I’m sure she anticipates your arrival.”

The two ascended the stairs in a single file line and emerged from a small opening on the floor, but not before Eriibeus nearly smacked his real head on the edge. That would’ve made for a swift end to this mission.

The upstairs room shared the same dimensions as the one below it, but had a much more open feel. Along all of the walls were warmly colored stained glass windows. Adjacent to the front end were two parallel archways leading out onto the wall-walk where guards would patrol the higher perimeters. The stairs which lead to the third floor were situated outside.

And of course, at the back end of the room was a simple stone throne dressed in vibrant throws and cushions, and a burly Rolveon man with long graying hair sitting lethargically upon it. At his foot was an old skinny woman dressed in purple robes and a matching cap. The two were in the midst of a disagreement.

“...I only ask for a single piece more a season so I may further my observations. I guarantee you, lord, I am on the verge of a breakthrough in the cultivation of these specimens—!”

“Enough!” the seated man interrupted. His voice was like thunder, if thunder had smoked for many years. “I refuse to invest any further into your theories, Cleric, for they are not grounded in earthly reason! For every blessing I’ve given, you’ve yielded no meaningful results! This is lunacy, and there are more valued matters to invest my kingdom’s funds into. This experiment of yours ends with these final words!”

One of Eriibeus’ concealed antenna perked upwards in interest, translating to a holographic eyebrow being raised.

“Lord, please! Hear me—!”

Yvaanell cleared her throat, and the bickering two gave their attention to her, instead. “Father, Cleric Hal, this stranger wandered up to me and claims he is for you.” She looked back at him and smirked. “I knew not what else to do of him, so now I hand him off to you.”

Eriibeus assumed that was his queue. He hesitated slightly before stepping forward. “I-I wasn’t certain if I was welcome inside or not. Where I come from, commoners are not allowed to merely walk into the home of royalty.” Much of what he said of this fake place paralleled real life, but the politics of his star-faring homeworld were a tad more nuanced than those of a world in its Middle Ages. “I am Erii. I arrived here several days ago for my test, Cleric. Do you recall me?”

Hal scanned him up and down, slowly dragging her eyes across every inch of Eriibeus’ projection. For a moment, he feared the woman would see through his disguise. “Yes, of course I recall you... He whose skill surpasses any of which his master has ever seen...” The cleric’s voice was like a snake, gently coiling around his body, preparing to suffocate him. “What was the name of your home again?”

Eriibeus could feel the ice in her tone. The tension between the two was thick enough to slice with a laser cutter. “We are The Council of Troverdon, several miles inland from the southern sea.”

Hal scowled at him. “‘Where the status of scholars are held above that of kings,’ correct?” she quoted.

“Uh...” Perhaps Eriibeus had used that line he made up one too many times. It was a good line, he thought. “...correct. I come here for the purpose of expanding my knowledge, and by extension, the knowledge of all Troverdoneans.” He wasn’t lying entirely, only mostly.

“I see...” Hal replied carefully, folding her arms. “Or, perhaps you are some sort of spy here to disrupt our way of life! You had no outside contacts to speak of during our first exchange, and never before have I heard of this place you supposedly come from.”

The king groaned before intervening. “Cleric, cease the undue accusations for once in your miserable life!”

Eriibeus blinked at the sound of his booming voice. Here was a man raised since birth to govern his village and subjects with absolute authority. As far as the Rolveons were concerned, this man was mere steps below the status of a god. To say that he was ‘intimidated’ by Acruxum was wrong, as he did not fear these people, but he could not deny how small he felt in this king’s presence.

Acruxum continued lecturing Hal, “As a servant of the divine, you of all must know that Prophet Exinei in The First Book of Elet did declare that we are all foreigners upon these lands, for the earth does not belong to those who tread upon it, but to those who live within the skies!” He laughed, scornful. “It is a sad day where the cleric knows less of how the world works than her sorry king.”

Yvaanell stepped backwards towards Eriibeus. “We will not have you scaring away anyone else with your interrogations, Hal. Some of our town’s most productive citizens have their origins in outside lands.”

“And you should understand that your standing after all this plant madness bears no favors with me,” Acruxum spat. “A man has come a great distance to learn from us of our humble kingdom. It is a great honor knowing that Okuil carries the influence to draw foreign scholars.”

Not exactly accurate, but Eriibeus did not speak up.

The cleric threw her hands up. “Fine, I will ask no further questions... for now, at least. But my suspicions remain firmly intact.” She puffed out her chest slightly, as though simply stating that she was suspicious was somehow accomplishing something.

Yvaanell snorted. “You utter many words yet convey such little meaning,” she taunted her.

The cleric could have hissed in response.

“Yvaanell,” her father warned. “All of you, leave at once. My patience for all of this has run dry. I have no more will to continue these quarrels.” He shooed in their direction, leaning into his side. The man looked so weary, tired of both body and mind. In between words he breathed as though fighting for air, and his ragged appearance made him look so much older than he must have been.

Yvaanell frowned. “Yes, father.” She approached him to place a delicate kiss on his weathered cheek, then turned to descend the stairs, making sure to smile warmly at Eriibeus before her departure. “I will be seeing you around these parts, Erii of Troverdon.”

“Very well then,” Hal began to her new apprentice. “If you will follow me, we shall begin the fundamental lessons.” She motioned towards one of the archways and the two made their way out onto the wall-walk.

From the newfound height, Eriibeus had a vantage of the entire village, and the view was not unlike an image he could’ve received from an observational post. It reminded him of a miniature model he would see in a museum, depicting life in a town from history’s past. All the faces of the citizens scurrying below were indistinguishable, but it was far simpler to keep a head count from up here. He as well could easily see out into the surrounding fields, and beyond the fields, the dense woods which from here resembled the wild rainforests on his tropical homeplanet of Zorian Prime.

After that thought crossed his mind, he realized it would be better if he ventured farther away from Okuil when he was ready to teleport back to the Pax Concordia, rather than doing so in the open farmlands. He hadn’t known how easy it could’ve been for someone to spot him until he was up above.

Perhaps carelessness does permeate this mission as previously suggested...

The chapel was also connected to the wall-walk by a second floor archway, and it was the next building over from the castle. As they approached it, Eriibeus could see that it clearly was not originally intended to be a chapel of any sort. It looked more akin to a guard tower with a large conical spike jutting from the top. In fact, most of the pre-established buildings of this town didn’t seem to be designed for anyone to actually live inside of. The village of Okuil was built upon an Obroxian fortress from when their military still occupied the region. The modern Rolveons were essentially squatting here.

Hal pointed a skinny finger at the so-called chapel. “Here is where I reside. Unfortunately, there is no room for another resident, so you must stay at the inn. I will show you there later, but for now there is much to do.” She opened the makeshift wooden door crudely bolted to the arch frame and let Eriibeus enter before her.

Inside, the woodsy scent of herbs and embers was overpowering. Much unlike the castle, this place was decorated lavishly with curious baubles of research. Drying plants suspended by rope cables hung in tiers from the walls and ceiling, rough sketchings of biological diagrams and drawings of native lifeforms were plastered sporadically around the room. There were shelves everywhere and several cupboards, coddling various miscellanies. The cleric’s bed was off to the corner, next to a rickety wooden desk covered in alchemical equipment. Tattered red curtains were drawn to the sides of the windows, letting in only enough light for the otherwise dark room to be accessible. Right of the second story entrance was an opening leading to the first floor, presumably where church meetings took place.

This most certainly is the dwelling of a scientist, Eriibeus thought upon taking in his surroundings. His quarters aboard the Pax Concordia shared similarities with Hal’s room. The urge to collect oddities or to hoard old notes from past trials must have been universal traits among hobby researchers.

They both walked further inside. “Now, before I set you on your first task, is there anything you would like to ask me, Erii of Troverdon?” The cleric spat Eriibeus’ fake name out like a venom.

“Yes, actually,” he began. “Forgive me for prying, but what was it that you and the king were arguing over when we first walked in? Something of an experiment... ?”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “That does not concern you, outsider.”

“It may not, but I find myself intrigued still. If there is anything that I can possibly assist you with, I would be very eager to help however I can.”

The cleric was silent for a moment, her eyes drifting to the side as she contemplated his proposal. “Well, perhaps since you are here, there are some things I could do with your help in.” She wandered towards her desk and Eriibeus trailed behind.

Along the back of her desk were a number of small clay pots of soil of varying colors and consistencies, some wet and some dry, none of which contained any obvious signs of life.

“I have been unsuccessful thus far in my attempts at cultivating these plants. I have wasted many suns on my research hoping that eventually I will make a breakthrough, but alas, to no avail. For all my knowledge of herbalism, and alchemy, too, it embarrasses me endlessly that I seem unable to unlock the secrets of this one simple breed.” She sighed defeatedly. “My birth chart always did detail a life ill of misfortunes...”

Eriibeus peeked over Hal’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the pots. “And what specimen are these exactly?”

“They were known to the Obrox as iolum slarr, or the ‘glass bush’, after the star god, Ioluminet. His eyes are glassy like mirrors. Mortals lack the power necessary to look into his eyes without being swallowed by flame, but within his irises lay the world’s most secret knowledge. Hidden in plain sight, if you will.” She smirked at her own joke.

“These plants appear to grow exclusively in clusters, leaves an ashen white, and they bear the crop of black glass,” Hal explained. “They grow in the wild in caves, but very slowly and they take many months to bear their fruit. The glass is brittle and breaks. We wish to continue crafting from this material, but when they break and we run out of glass and there is no more in the wild left to harvest, we must return to our metal tools which are not as good.”

“‘I don’t understand. These plants grow glass?”

Hal picked up a tool from her desk and turned to face Eriibeus. She grabbed his hand by the wrist and laid it flat, and in his hologram palm she placed a small, primitive scalpel with a highly reflective black blade. “We use the glass which flowers from the iolum slarr to make tools mostly, but through my research I hope to find other uses. The glass grants us the ability to perform surgeries with remarkable precision.”

Eriibeus pondered this. A blade made of glass implied an incredibly sharp edge, which may have been one possible explanation for the high rate of success these people had with surgical procedures. “Interesting...”

“Indeed,” she agreed as she turned her back to him once more. “The tools were first brought to us and others by Ydlivar caravaners of the northern lands. Many say the star gods gave them the knowledge to will this glass to exist from the air itself, and those who were there for this exchange brought their secrets with them to the grave.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure if I believe those things. I believe the answer may be much simpler. Perhaps mortal man was simply not meant to understand the workings of these plants. This may be sacred knowledge that I am toying with without even realizing it, as the king implies.”

Eriibeus listened with his concealed antennae pressed to his head. Hal was a woman of her time; her knowledge was up to par with the knowledge of the era. It would have been completely unfair of him to compare what he knew of the natural world to what these primitives knew, or even could know. Still, it was a shame to him that she even humored these ridiculous ideas. If only his fellow researcher knew of the wonders the universe actually held.

Hal let out a breath of air from deep within her lungs. “I do not know, and I may never know. The king tells me it is time to surrender hope. I have accepted that this may be the case.”

“No! Do not accept this!” he exclaimed much more fervently than was intended. The cleric snapped her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Cleric Hal, if you will allow me, I’m certain that you and I could unlock these ‘secrets’ together.”

She was skeptical. “How could you be so certain of this?”

“Because anything can be understood if given the time and effort required to learn. I have some light experience in botan—” he stopped to correct himself. “—er, herbalism. I have a garden at my home.” The windowsill succulents in his quarters that he bought online and came pre-planted in pots constituted as a garden in his mind.

The cleric narrowed her eyes, turning to look at him. Her arms were folded and a dubious expression spread across her face. “You seem oddly sure of something which has never been done before.”

“And you seem oddly accepting of the king’s word although you clearly wish for further investigation.”

She blinked. For a fleeting moment, she seemed lost for words. “The king’s word is law! It is not my place to question authority, nor is it yours! After all, the king is my source of funding. Only with his blessing am I able to continue to my commission of supplies.”

This was true, unfortunately. It was a fact that Eriibeus was well aware of and it never ceased to upset him. The Phosnoi Technocracy invested the majority of its fundings into scientific research and the advancement of technology, but outside of where he came from, it was not an uncommon theme throughout the galaxy that intellectual pursuits received the poor end of the bargain.

“Well, if there are two of us, perhaps I could conduct some research of my own and report my findings to you. We do not need the king’s permission to simply observe the world around us on our own terms, Cleric.”

She shook her head. It was clear that this conversation was making her uncomfortable. She likely had never heard anyone question authority like this before. “There is no research to conduct which I have not already done. You speak madness, outsider.”

“But how? Clearly, there is the knowledge to grow other kinds of plants. Why give up so easily with this new specimen that you know so little about?”

“Because the king—”

“The king knows nothing of what we do, Cleric. His job is to oversee the individual needs of his subjects. We are scholars, Hal. Our place in society is to improve the lives of our fellow citizens through the discovery of new knowledge. It is not a sin to learn.”

Hal’s jaw could have fallen to the floor. She was silent, gaping at this defiance. Then, a wicked smile stretched across her face. “You have some nerve, Erii of Troverdon.”

“Where the status of a scholar is held above that of a king.”

#Eriibeus #science fiction #sci fi #futurism