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thebigoblin · 1 year

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The Saturday Routine

@febuwhump Day 7: Made To Watch + @badthingshappenbingo Square Filled: Hiding An Injury (card attached at the end). Also, will post on ao3 later. EDIT: POSTED!

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski & Eli Stilinski-Hale

Tags: Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Eli Stilinski-Hale, Blood, BAMF!Stiles, POV Eli Stilinski-Hale, Sheriff Stilinski Makes An Appearance, Attempt at Humor, Spark Stiles Stilinski, True Alpha Derek Hale, Fluff & Angst, Happy Ending

The last thing he clearly remembers is watching his dad laugh.

They were in the locker room of the high school, after-hours, joking around as they normally do on Saturdays. His dad is a trusted man, the Sheriff's consultant, and an overall loved Beacon Hills citizen. Which means that the Principal of the school — Ms. Natalie Martin — has allowed them to use the school grounds for practicing, even if he isn't good at playing lacrosse (yet, says dad's voice in his head).

This is all routine. Waking up early on Saturdays, getting ready and having breakfast, going to the school, practicing lacrosse there for hours, and only leaving when it's time for lunch. What isn't is this huge gap of memory, his head pounding, and his ears ringing.

And, most importantly, these ropes.

"Wha-?"

He can't even speak. His throat is dry, he needs to drink, he needs to remove these ropes from his wrists and most importantly, he needs to know his dad is okay.

He coughs to clear his throat. Once, twice. "Dad-"

"Shh," he hears through the ringing in his ears, and thank fuck, that's his dad. He is fine.

"You are-"

"Eli, please shut up."

He shuts his mouth with a clack of teeth. He tastes blood, but it's okay. At least he knows now, his dad is here, and he sounds fine. Right? Right.

But where is he? Where are they?

This certainly isn't the diner they frequent for Saturday lunches.

He would just open his eyes and check, but as it turns out, he has blindfolds on, too.

He's 99% this is the work of hunters.

Wait... he hears chanting.

"Is that fucking chanting?!"

"Eli!" His dad hisses, somewhere from his front, but it's too late. A door opens with a loud creak, and it's creepy enough, but then the one who opened it has to speak, too.

"Aha! You wolves are awake. Good. Very good."

Cliché witch dialogues. His tata was right — these villains are very predictable.

As he's wondering about his tata and what he would do to escape — WWTD (what would tata do) — he's suddenly moved from his position. It's good, because he was starting to cramp.

"Eli!" His dad is shouting behind him, and he wants to tell him something, anything, just to reassure him, but then the witch slams over a duct tape on his face.

He knows the taste of it because of his many, many spent evenings working on his tata's jeep.

"Mmmph!"

"Quiet, baby wolf. You are required for your purity, not for your tongue. I will not hesitate to cut it."

"Mmmphh!" They really are after virgins! He really should invest some time in his love life at this point. Hell, it won't even be hard to convince his parents to let him date — he just needs to find someone who matches his energy.

He's shaken out of his thoughts when he realizes the chanting is growing louder.

There are more of them?

His dad must have realized this earlier, because he's cursing them and growling, his loud, Alpha roar not too far away. He knows because he's heard it loads of times, and it's always as mesmerizing as it is terrifying (his tata always smells disgustingly horny when it happens).

"Get the Alpha now. He's angry enough to fuel the spell."

Oh.

He was just the bait.

His blindfolds are taken off the moment he's put into the cage, large and glinting silver under the sunlight coming from the open roof of the cave.

There are six witches, standing in a circle, wearing grey and blue robes. Their faces are hidden, but all have the same tattoo on their necks: pigs. Who the hell tattoos that?

His focus only stays on them for a minute, though, because just then his dad's being dragged through the only entrance by the seventh member. His dad is in chains and tattered clothes, and he's huffing in pain, growling at everyone until he sees him.

"Dad! What the hell did you do to him?!" He directs his question to the circle, who ignore him until his dad is in the centre of it, eyes locked on him.

It's like he doesn't even care about himself, as long as his kid is safe. Eli hates it.

He wants his dad to be okay!

"A wolf will fight tooth and nail for its cub," one of the witches says, and Eli snaps his eyes to her. She is smiling at him, a crooked, cruel smile. "And your father? He fought well. Like an Alpha should."

"He is poweful," another witch adds.

"And he will be useful to us." A third one intones, voice heavy with expectation.

"You will not hurt my dad—!"

His dad says at the same time, "I will help you, but on one condition."

The attention is shifted to his dad.

Eli knows exactly what his dad is going to say — he starts protesting, but no ears heed his words.

"Release Eli, and I will do as you ask. His safety, for whatever it is you want me to do."

The witches tsk, admire, appraise.

Eli waits for their answer.

"No."

He sighs in relief.

His dad tries to move, to attack, maybe, but he can't. He's on the ground before he can, and Eli has to crane his neck to see — it's a fucking taser. To the back.

"You said you wanted a virgin!" He shouts. And the attention is on him now, even his dad's, who is writhing with pain on the stone ground. "My dad is not one. Obviously. He's a gross adult who does those gross things with my tata, they always keep kissing, it's all very teenage horror. Don't ask." He waves his hands around as he keeps talking. "Me, on the other hand? I haven't been kissed." He's not proud of it, but he's only fifteen.

Sure, his tata met the love of his life at sixteen, but on the other hand? His dad met his one true love at the age of twenty-two, and even then it took them years to figure their shit out.

Eli has hope.

The witches cackle as one.

"Oh," one of them says, "how precious. Are they not, sisters?"

"They are." They all echo. Fucking creepy.

"They think we need only one of them. How optimistic of you."

No.

He is not just the bait.

He locks his gaze on his dad's. They're both panicking.

Eli can do nothing but watch as his dad is made to stand on shaky legs, their eyes still locked with each other's. The witches have once again formed a circle, and his dad is in the middle of it, and Eli can't take his eyes away.

Not even when they slice his dad's shirt, remove it completely. Not even when they put a knife on his chest and stomach, carve three lines vertically downwards. Not even when his dad cries out in pain, mouthing "Leave! Escape!" every second of it, his eyes as scarlet as the blood coming out of him.

All he can do is watch and cry, his wrists still tied, his wolf still sheltered.

His dad is unconscious, now, and he's too far for Eli to check up on. The only sign he's alive is his weak heartbeat — Eli can hear it, even if faintly. He wishes he was a better wolf, but unfortunately he is not.

That is what happens when you're a magical tree baby, half of both your parents, somehow. He's hardly a wolf and not at all a spark.

He's 100% useless.

He's crying, because that's the only thing he can do.

He doesn't even kick up a fuss when they come for him, next.

They don't tear off his t-shirt; they pull it up, just start cutting into him. One single slash across his abdomen, like they did his dad's: First in the middle; from the middle of his pecs to his belly button. Then the left side, below his pec till the belly button, and same on the right side.

The knife is on his left side, just about to slash into him, when the witches' robes suddenly starts flying like there's a huge gust of wind.

Eli's t-shirt falls into place right as the witches fall on the ground.

"Tata!"

It's him. Weilding his gun and anger.

"Nobody takes my boys," his tata growls, a very good impression of his dad's, and every single witch is done for now.

They go down like nasty flies his tata hates.

Eli doesn’t focus on the whole fight, though. He knee-walks towards his dad, checks his breathing just to be sure, and cringes when he sees the blood and injury on his stomach. Its healing, but slowly — they must have used wolfsbane on the knife.

"Take him out to the jeep!"

He does as his tata asked, puts his whole strength on saving his dad. He almost doesn't make it; his dad is too heavy, he can't, he can't pick him up, but his dad can die—

He's a fucking Stilinski-Hale and he can do this. He's the son of two of the strongest people and he believes he can save his dad.

On the fourth try, he's able to carry his dad bridal style. His tata is still fighting, three witches on him at once, the other four thrown against the cave's walls, but he knows he can handle himself.

He can.

Eli puts his dad on the backseat of the jeep, and he's just secured him when his tata comes out, quickly taking the driver's seat and telling him to sit as well so they can run to Lydia. There's no space left in the backseat, so he sits on the passenger seat.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." He lies. Dad is the priority, not him. "Tata, he's not healing,"

"Shh, baby, shh. Your daddy will be okay," his tata brings a hand to his face, the other on the steering wheel, and it comes away wet. He didn't even realize he was crying. "He'll be okay. Your dad is strong, and you know him, he never misses a game."

"Granpops and him have a watch party tomorrow," he reminds himself. They have never missed one. Ever.

"Yes. He'll never miss it. Okay, baby?"

He's hated being called baby ever since he was four. He loves it now.

"Okay." And then because he thinks this is the last he'll every say: "I love you both. Sooooo much."

When he wakes up, his head is pounding, and he hears screaming.

It's his tata. And he's not yelling as so much as... venting.

About him.

"That dumbass kid didn't even tell me he had an injury! And not just any injury, a frockin' slash! Through his abdomen!"

His granpop's laugh. The belly laugh.

"It's not frockin' funny! Dad!"

"You did it again!" What did tata do again?

"I— your grandchild could have died and you are focused on your son saying made-up bad words? Seriously?" Eli imagines his tata throwing his hands up, and the fond smile that graces his dad's face when he does. He and grandpops generally just leave them alone at that point, because after that it's just a toin coss away from a make-out session or full-on sex.

"Kid, I had you as a teen. This doesn't even phase me anymore. He'll be fine, he's a strong kid."

Pause. Then: "He is. He is totally Derek's kid."

"And yours, Stiles."

"Nope," it sounds like he's aggressively cleaning dishes, a plate grating under his harsh hands, "today he's just Derek's kid. How the fuck — yes, dad, be proud of me for using actual cuss words, why not — they got kidnapped off of the school grounds when he's an Alpha, a True Alpha, and now they're both pretending to not be awake to postpone my wrath." Oh, so his dad's fine now. "And they're both wondering if the other is okay or not. Der, your kid is alive, and Eli, your dad is fine."

"That tone means trouble," his grandpops says, unnecessarily.

"Thanks for stating the obvious!" Eli shouts, and he hears his dad saying the same, and then they're both groaning, probably due to the stitches being pulled. Though his dad groans louder.

"Wow. You really know them."

"I just know your favorite son-in-law. His kid's literally just the same."

"Hey, now, you know Eli is your carbon copy."

Eli lets the conversation wash over him, the familiar sounds lulling him into sleep, right until he hears his name and being a Spark in the same sentence.

"...saw his eyes, they were purple."

"This was when he picked up Derek?"

Oh.

He believed.

"Yeah. It was so cool. His eyes then turned beta yellow."

His tata hums, and then it's silent.

Eli wants to know more.

He gets up from his bed, careful with his injury, and realizes with a start — this is his bedroom, on the second floor, and his tata and grandpops are clearly on the first floor, in the kitchen.

He's running at full speed right until he hits the landing of the stairs and bumps shoulders with his dad, who was doing the same.

They both groan as their stitches once again complain.

"Told you!" His tata shouts over them groaning in pain.

"How?" Eli mouths to his dad. He didn't hear anything.

"Notepad," his dad mouths back.

"Notepad!" His tata shouts from below at the same time.

"Okay, wow, you really do know us well."

"Kid, don't be so surprised," Grandpops says, and then, "Your tata is a Stilinski. And you are half Stilinski too. We do amazing things."

"Yeah," his dad says softly. Louder, "You three are amazing. Though, I have to say Stiles is something else entirely."

"No buttering me up will work! And no bribes either, house chores or... other means!"

Eli shudders. "Ew."

His dad gives him a look.

Grandpop calls out a greeting. "And that's my cue to leave. Stiles, leave Derek alive for tomorrow's game. We have never missed one and we won't be starting now. And don't be too hard on Eli, remember he's my favorite grandchild."

"I'm your only- okay, when will me shouting and groaning combo will end?"

"No promises, dad. And you two, don't you dare think of hiding out in your rooms."

The two of them walk downstairs, and even though he and his dad share a look of solidarity, they know they're no match against one Stiles Stilinski-Hale.

At least they're given smiley-pancakes after they have been thoroughly reamed (and hugged a million times).

* END *

my bad things happen bingo card —

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #eli stilinski-hale #sheriff stilinski #bad things happen bingo #febuwhump #febuwhump 23 #sh.writesonmain #this is a q

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 9 months

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Thranduil and Josie Pt. 155- Josephine in Wonderland

Summary: Narcisse pay a visit. Things get catty for Catherine. Garrett and the Seelie Queen have a lengthy discussion. Is he seeing things? Josie experiences her own vision as does Thranduil. WWJD. What will Josie do? Will she see the truth this time? WWTD. What will Thranduil do? Will the Queen break through his heart again as the two get one step closer to each other?

*Warnings* language, angst, graphic depictions

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Narcisse had headed out that morning with his guards to check on Catherine, for he was relayed the message from the ones at her post that she was chanting and threatening black magic upon them and the warlock lord himself....and he was now at the point where he was ready to release Blaze to shut her up permanently, a freak accident that Charles couldn't blame him for, but the fact he brought Blaze there to begin with would be blame enough. Catherine was her own worst enemy, much like himself, and he knew she would eventually earn her son's full hatred, again, much like he would earn yours if you knew about Thranduil's concealed letter or that he knew your King was alive, or had been.

"Have my ears deceived me in hearing that even in confinement, you are breaking the laws of my lands with black magic rantings against myself and my men?"

Catherine sat on the damp straw scattered ground of the desolate dungeon, sweaty, dirty and hair of a bird's nest, as she turned to see the prim and proper warlock glaring down at her from the top of the stairs.

She turned away with a scowl, having no choice but to listen to him carry on while he pranced down the stairs like a cat.

"Are the accommodations not to your standards? Horse droppings, urine and the stench of death? I felt it only fair for you to share in the misery of what Arion suffered right there where you sleep. I gather it must be quite lonely as well. Would you like some company to keep you warm at night in this cold musty atmosphere? I am sure Blaze would be happy to oblige since he is only right next door, itching to come play a game of karma with you. It appears he has a nice hole started beneath the old wooden door."

"Oh shut up! That wretched beast taunts me all night, sniffing and snarling under the door. Are you really going to make me stay locked in here with him??? It will only be days before he can fit through!!"

"Why Catherine, do I detect the sound of fear in your voice? The voice you can never keep quiet? You no longer have the spell book nor any of your poisons and potions. Your ramblings are purely to get a rise out of me."

"And it worked, quite diligently I might add. I do not need that book, for my memory serves me well of the contents within it."

"Is that so?" Narcisse asked as he teasingly walked over to the tiger's door who had been huffing his hot breath under it since the warlock lord's arrival.

He bent over and extended his arm down, dangling his fingers at the small opening. Blaze immediately began sniffing and snorting at them, then his salivating sandpaper tongue slipped out to lap Stephane's fingers, making him chuckle.

"Yes my friend. I am happy to see you too and I have brought you a treat."

Stephane glanced over at Catherine, who's eyes widened, thinking he was referring to her and then he opened a small bag he had brought with him, pulling out and unwrapping what appeared to be the hind leg of a wild boar. He then began to unshackle the door.

"What are you doing??!!" Catherine shouted and ran behind a pile of straw bales, as if that would protect her.

Peeking out and trembling, she watched and listened as Narcisse commanded the big cat to back up and lay down. The 600 lb gentle giant did as ordered while Stephane offered him some head and chin scratches. A soft rolling roar of love escaped his carnivorous mouth, for large cats of the wild could not purr and then Narcisse stepped back and dropped the meaty treat at the cat's enormous but deadly paws.

Blaze went in for the kill, grasping the carcass with great force and sinking his razor like carnassial teeth into it while Catherine shivered at the sight.

Narcisse then came out and secured the door. With a sly grin, he turned to the cowering Catherine.

"Just a little glimpse of your fate if you keep pissing me off, for I will in fact release Blaze as I have had enough of you. It would be wise for you to hold your wicked tongue from now on. In fact, you should be as quiet as you possibly can, for Blaze is not all there is to fear out here near the dark forest. I am sure you are aware of dead bodies that have been piling up, courtesy of a very hostile Harker and you...well...are simply a sitting duck. Wolves like ducks. Now, I have more important things to tend to. I will try and make it back before Blaze finds his way in and tears you limb from limb."

Stephane proceeded up the stairs only to be stopped by Catherine's malicious words.

"You will not silence me. You will pay for this and so will that whore of a widow...oh that's right, she in fact is NOT a widow, now is she??"

Narcisse could not contain his pent up rage. His eyes began to change, pupils constricting to a state of miosis as he pounced from the stairwell and landed in front of Catherine in his true form. The white tiger, a rare vison only few have witnessed.

He prowled forward as her screaming image reflected in his predatory eyes, until she was backed against the wall. Catherine's legs shook so bad that her knees buckled and she fell to the ground on her stomach, only to look up to see the mammoth monster crouched down, inches from her face.

She was frozen, her eyes locked into those of a demon as he bore his even larger incisors than Blaze's. The deathly roar consisting of scorching peppermint breath blasted over her face, singeing the tiny hairs upon it as the atrocious cat aggressively wagged his tail about.

"Ok ok I will not tell her or harm her!! I swear it!!! I just want my son!" Catherine shouted and cried as she buried her face in the ground, covering her head with her hands and curling into a fetal position.

All went quiet and she opened one eye to look out. She caught sight of Narcisse's black leather boots and followed them up to see Stephane back to himself, leering down at her.

"You will never have him!" he snarled and continued back up the stairs, locking the door behind him.

"No!!" she screamed and ran after him, beating on the door profusely. "I want my son!! I want to see him now!!!"

"Stephane!! Just let me see my son!!!"

Catherine could then hear the horses leaving and she snapped, beginning to bang her head against the thick wooden door in a fit of rage until she collapsed.

Garrett awakened from the prior night's whiskey stupor, cringing at the sunlight shining in on him as he laid upon the tilted couch. His immediate thoughts were to try and find another way to end his existence, for surely Amara's protection mark didn't make him entirely invincible.

As his stomach growled for blood, it became his first idea, that he would starve himself, for he couldn't fathom the animal blood he was living off of anyways.

He went into the candlelit kitchen to pour himself some hair of the dog and as he did so, a woman's voice spoke from the table behind him.

"Whiskey verses true blood?"

Garrett spun around so fast, the glass in his hand went flying through the air as he jumped back against the counter, clinging to it.

"Fucking christ...Amara!!! You can't do that shit to a vampire! You damn near shocked my heart into beating again!" he shouted in panic to the Seelie Queen who now was in the form of a grown woman, a very provocatively dressed grown woman that slightly resembled you with her long copper locks.

"It is one of the choices you are deciding over instead of physical death, is it not? To become human again?"

"Well...I have thought...wait...how the hell do you know that? And...how did you get in here without me sensing or hearing you??"

Amara smiled and stood up, standing almost as tall as the 6'5 vamp. Garrett's eyes widened and a slight gulp rolled in his throat as he watched her come face to face with him.

"Or...with you..being...so...t...tall." he added as he cautiously eyed the teeth that he once witnessed turn into those of a great white shark and mutilate an apple. The sound of that bone crushing crunch still haunted him.

"It's simple really. Magic and faerie blood. No others can detect my kind, that is of course with the exception of those that are like us. Height does not matter and should not be mocked, especially of myself. How was it that you put it daylighter? Short...faerie ass? Also, Amara and Annabelle may begin with the same vowel, but they are two very different names."

"Ahh yes, about that umm. Youuuu are definitely not short...now. Wow, your birds sure sing like canaries don't they? Look...I had a reeeeally bad night alright?" Garrett snipped and went to get another glass.

"Yes, I am aware, which is why I waited until now to arrive. Consider yourself fortunate that I like you Roman, for such mockeries, even if caused by poor judgement of an impaired state, would not have ended well for another." Amara claimed with a smile smiled, revealing her Nosferatu like daggers.

"Ahhhh! Jesus..." Garrett shouted and zipped backwards to the other side of the kitchen, dropping the second glass. "I'm sorry alright???? Can you just...please put those things away? You've made your point....pun greatly intended."

"Very well. Apology accepted."

""It's not like you can kill me anyways. I've already tried, but I'm sure you knew that." he huffed and marched back to get one more glass.

"Yes. I can actually... and I am aware that you have attempted it."

"Are you? Are you even aware of what I am going through? I am a vampire. FIRE should kill me...but guess what...epic fail! Watch this..."

Garrett stormed outside, located the gas can and dumped some on his bare arm, then pulled the matches from his pocket and lit it.

"Yep, nothing to see here. Just a vampire arm on fire."

He then patted it out and tossed his arm in the air. "Look. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Not one burn, bubble or singe. The only thing I get from it, besides being utterly pissed off, is smelling like a freaking lawn mower."

"That's because you are special Roman. You can walk among the light which is a rarity for one such as yourself. Why do you think your maker chose you?"

"Uh hello...I'm not special. I've been marked with some omen! Like Damien Thorn and now I cannot die or even be harmed. I drank dead man's blood for fucks sake. I should have withered up like a prune, right down to my bones. And what does Craven have to do with any of this?? He wasn't a daylighter and besides...dude's dead. You know? Like I would like to be...for REAL. Take it off. I want the mark gone.....please."

Garrett's 'please' was a defeated and sincere whisper as his eyes glistened of tears.

"I...I don't want to feel this pain anymore. Just let me go Amara. I serve no purpose. Not even to..... I'm a monster. I'm the thing that shouldn't be...and I certainly did not choose this life and I certainly don't want it."

"But you do serve a purpose. You...."

"What? To be your daylighter rockstar?? There's plenty other musicians out there that can play music for you. Hit Lestat up. He's pretty damn good and can also walk in the light. I don't even want to sing anymore because....christ, it don't even matter."

"The vampire Lestat does not have your spunk and will that I so adore. He's quite boring to be honest, for I cannot lie. You rid the world of evil, just as you tried to do as a human. That is a purpose. Your human skills and your fire sign were carried over with you. A sign that also means a king, in which you are and were meant to be. That is why you can walk among the sun. The sun is fire. You...are fire."

Garrett began hysterically laughing. "My skills?? I couldn't even save my own sister and I damn near killed my brother because of the life I lived. I was bad then, I am bad now. THAT is what was carried over. Just ask..... forget it...I'm thirsty."

Garrett went back inside and this time, he just picked up the bottle and drank from it.

"You will not be able to starve yourself of blood. The hunger instinct will take over eventually, so it is futile to try. You have the power to heal others Roman, because of the losses you have suffered. That is a purpose in itself and yet, you wish to waste it. Three times now, you were going to reference to someone. It wouldn't happen to be the same someone you shared the life saving kiss with, now would it? The one who is the real reason for all of this."

Garrett's eyes fell and he sat the bottle down. "She...she saw me. The real me. I...I can't deal with that..."

"We all have a dark side, even your Josephine. You have seen mine."

"Yeah...and I'd prefer to never see that again thank you very much...So, you can imagine what she must have thought when she saw the monster inside of me."

"Did you ask her what she thought? You did not. Instead, you ran away like you always do. You do not give that kiss enough credit. The vines knew the truth. Even she knows the truth, even when she fights it. Did you ever stop to wonder if your purpose is really...her...per se?"

"If that were the case, she wouldn't have chosen Narcisse."

Garrett turned back to the bottle and resumed the consumption.

"What choice did you give her?"

Garrett spun around, now angered. "What the hell do you now about love anyways? Did you really come here to badger me about my love life? For I have none. The only thing I have ever been to her is an option. Respectfully, your twisted vines are full of shit."

Off he stormed, back outside to stare at the open wilderness, his stomach pleading with him to go hunt and his mind wanting to release his frustrations, for the whiskey just worsened them.

"If it is any consolation, I know plenty of love and will soon have a king myself. I am also a fan of Rosie." Amara proclaimed as she followed him once again.

Garrett's eyes rolled before he turned around to face her. "Rosie??"

"Yes. Roman and Josie combined. I'm a big fan of portmanteaus...and true love."

The vampire chuckled in confusion. "So you're telling me, you are actually rooting for her and I to be together?"

"I am. But that can't happen while you sit here and wallow. She does not love Lord Narcisse. If any one was merely an option, it was him."

"Yeah well...so who is this new king of your anyways? Anyone I know?" Garrett deflected, giving a curious grin.

"That will be revealed all in due time, just as many things will be. With that said, if you want your one true love, then go and claim her before it's too late. Your best option would be to make her one of you."

Amara thought of Legolas and King Thranduil as well, knowing he was alive. You would surely return to Thranduil and that kept you in Legolas's life. She wanted you far away from the Prince, for she knew how he felt about you. Although she was well aware of the Elvenking's mental return, it would not be enough to fend you off. Garrett's only chance to keep you as his, was to turn you, for Thranduil, she believed, would not be able to accept you as the filth he viewed all vampires and even dhampirs as and would then despise you without the force of the goblin king. Simply, you were somewhat of a thorn in her side that she wanted gone and Garrett could make that happen with one little bite.

"Too late? What does that mean? I can see that dark side of you that you mentioned is quite real. Have you lost your mind?? I would never do that to her...not again. I promised. Not unless she were dying and could not be saved. She has a child!"

"You will see soon enough what that means if you want her heart to belong to only you, for your love is unconditional, unlike others. You have broken many promises to her, have you not? And she has always forgiven you."

"Umm no offense but...you're mad....like Dr. Evil mad. This isn't promising to do the dishes and not doing it, this is life changing Amara! She would hate me and I couldn't handle that. You know...you actually have just helped me to make up my mind. Josephine has the power to make me human again...and that's what I will do, so I can go away, back to my old life and she can move on. Simple as that."

"Is it? Simple? What makes you so certain she would even do it? What makes you so certain that YOU would even do it? How will you explain your 20 year absence to those you knew you and the fact that you have not aged? How will you simply adjust to a world of no magic, no power and without the one you love?"

"Wait...I won't age to 53?"

"Your body died at 33 years of age. It does not know time. If you are returned to solely a human, you will remain as you are, only dull and boring like all Mundanes are."

"Alright...then...I'll just relocate somewhere else and continue living in solitude like I am already used to. I don't have to see my brother or old friends. Ryan didn't care for the man I had become anyways."

"And you'll die. Maybe not right away, but slowly, you will of loneliness and of heartbreak."

"I am already dying slowly inside of those things. At least I'll be able to fulfill my wish of ending it all if I still choose to do so."

"No you won't. You see, the mark of protection I have placed on you, will not even allow you to become human again, so the point is moot."

Garrett's red eyes glowed mad as a hatter. "Are you fucking kidding me??"

Amara glanced off into the distance, as if she had heard something.

"I must go now. I am being sought out...about you. You really should go home Roman. Josephine needs you. The winter solstice is coming soon and it brings great evil with it. You will be grateful for that mark."

Amara disappeared into the breeze right before his eyes, leaving the vexed vampire frazzled and fuming.

"Wait...what???!! You can't just say that and leave!!"

Again, Garrett stomped back inside, not knowing what to do now. Was it you seeking her out about him? Were you looking for him? Were you in trouble? Did you....miss him? One thing he knew for certain, now more than ever...the Seelie Queen was completely bonkers. Like, Alice in Wonderland bonkers.

"Josephine??? Can you hear me baby?" he called out as he heavily paced all around, finding himself now in one of the bedrooms. "You gotta tell me little one. I can't always see and hear you. If you need me, just say it...just say the word."

Silence filled his mind as he paced about, faster and faster until one of the small planks on the floor gave way near the bed and popped up, almost tripping him.

"What in theeee holy shit balls??"Garrett quipped as he saw a shoebox inside the opening.

Down to his knees he went, pulling the small box, covered in cobwebs, out of the dark space, cringing as he frantically shook his hands to get the sticky spider traps off of him.

"Grrrrross. Not today Charlotte." he whispered as he slowly opened the lid.

Garrett was floored by your cherry scent, literally, as it hit him in the face and sent him plopping onto his butt. Inside were three things.

A silver ring that held a ribbon shape, one that was used as a symbol for cancer. He knew you once believed your dad was dying from that but Garrett could feel it, that this meant something else. The second was a deck of tarot cards and on the back of the case, written in ink, was the word....Sarah's. Finally, the third object was a photograph of two girls, young teens, one with red hair, one with blonde, wearing similar dresses. The only difference he could see besides the blonde's silly nose ring that he always comically called a bull ring, were the color of the long locks and the hues of the eyes....and the eyes of the redhead's were....yours, only green instead of the blue Thranduil gave you.

Garrett smiled to see your smile once again, but then it faded as he gazed at the image more and more.

"This...is the Sarah you spoke of?" he once again whispered to himself. You had told him of her, but only the basics.

"Why on earth do you both look like sisters? Twins in a way...even. And why...did you have this hidden Josephine?"

Garrett's thumb happened to be right on the image of the blonde girl as he was staring at yours, wondering what this all meant, or if it even meant anything at all. As he pondered, something forced his now softened blue eyes to travel to the one he believed to be Sarah....and her lips moved.

"Help me." a soft faint voice squeaked.

"Whooaaaaa!!!" Garrett blurted out as he scurried back across the floor, dropping the photo.

Lightly panting as he gaped at the still picture before his feet, he slowly moved back and picked it up again, his eyes big as golf balls, but nothing happened this time.

"Jesus...I seriously need to eat before I lose my mind like the mad queen."

Garrett put the items away and then headed out in search of true blood, that being of human, for Amara was right, his hunger instinct was kicking in and hallucinations were one of the many shitty side effects of such deprivation. It was time to think clearly and try to connect with you.

You wandered through the dark forest, lost and becoming confused, for it was simple to find Amara's portal when you had been with Garrett and Legolas, but now you were alone and vulnerable to the evil enchantment inside it's boundaries. Clearly, you were in the Seelie queen's Wander Woods. You recognized it from when she took you and Garrett there, so you knew you were close.

Every little sound made you gasp and spin around, just waiting to see the hideous hell hound of Harker, biting at your heels or above in the dead trees perching like a vulture, ready to swoop you up, but you were prepared for him with a nice dose of wolfsbane in your pocket, mixed with silverbane, two great enemies of witches and werewolves. At most, it would keep him from shifting and render him powerless, giving you enough time to kill him. Hopefully, he wasn't even there at all.

You called out to Amara in your mind, just as you had been doing for a good hour now. Surely she had to know you were there. The mad faerie knew everything. Was she avoiding you because of Harker? Would she even help you if he were there? Because she swiftly split the last time he was present. One thing there was no question about though. You were going to kick Garrett's ass for this if you ever saw him again, for he was the only reason you were there.

An eerie breeze broke through the crowded lifeless timbers and suddenly, you could sense her. with the beauty she displayed on the outside, one would think she would smell of something invitingly fragrant like roses per se, but she was far from beautiful underneath the magical image she projected. Her true scent was something you could only describe as ammonia, an odor all would steer clear of but not all could smell her. From what you had noticed, elves certainly could, for you remembered Legolas blinking a lot as he neared her kingdom and had kept his distance while in her presence....and you...had Thranduil's blood in your veins.

You followed the throat, nose and eye burning air until you came to a bend on the barely visible pathway. There, you saw the stone gateway that led to her realm.

In your excitement to enter and be free of what you considered far more threatening than her world, you began running, only to begin tumbling down a concealed rabbit hole large enough for a human.

"Uuuugh!" was the only sound able to come out of you as you hit the damp dark underground, flat on your stomach. You turned on your back, trying to regain the air that was knocked out of your lungs and focus on your surroundings.

As you looked up to where you fell, you could see a dim light coming through the giant hole that was covered in tree roots all the way down. You turned about to further see you were trapped. The hole was wide but it went nowhere.

"No...no..no this is not happening. Focus Jo, you can get out of here." you told yourself out loud and closed your eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. It may have been a deep and wide space, but it felt like Peter's locked dark bathroom in the cabin....and you were certain there were spiders too.

The anxiety was squeezing your chest as you tried so hard to fly out, but nothing was happening. You hadn't a clue how to make it happen again like you did the night of your drunken birthday party. As you thought back to that moment, you recalled your emotions were on overload and you had desperately wished to fly, so that had to be it. Your emotions mixed with your will...they made you strong, you told yourself as you tried again. That's how you could always conjure the weather. That's how you saved Haldir.

Still nothing, no matter what you did.

"Why??!!" your shout echoed up the hole. "Why can't it just be natural??!! This is what I was meant for!!"

Giving up, you began clutching onto the dead roots to climb your way out. You made it only a few feet when your ankle was grabbed and entangled but the not so dead roots after all, yanking you back down to fall on your hands and knees.

You cowered up in the center of the ground, wrapping your knees to your chest as you began to rock and pant, your eyes darting frantically about....and then the panic set in. Your eyes planted shut and you began to plead...plead for your King.

"Thranduil!!! Take me away from this awful place, I beg of you!!!"

The only thing that then forced you to open your eyes was the scent of lilacs. Gasping, you saw a vision before you. The elven gates of Mirkwood.

Springing to your feet in disbelief, you began to walk in. In a moment of fear, you glanced back, only to see yourself still curled into a ball, rocking back and forth, but then the lilac breeze drifted over your face and through your hair, calling you back to the path.

You continued on, lightly trembling, through the tree carvings of antlers until you came upon the statue of Thranduil's mother, Carandolel, covered in vines. The only thing visible was her beautiful face, but her look was so sullen, just as Mirkwood was, for the dark forest was growing with disease everyday due to Sauron's shadow.

The Elvenking walked about through his gardens, taking in the beauty of it all, something he had not yet had the chance to do since his return. It was much needed, for it seemed to be the only thing that made him feel at peace over the war between his heart and mind.

He soon found himself at the bridge and waterfall where the two of you united in marriage. Did his subconscious bring him there? for he denied it to be intentional...or was it?

Thranduil stepped upon the bridge and froze, envisioning the moment when he first saw you being brought up to him by Legolas. As he continued over the bridge, his fingertips tracing along the rail, his keen ears twitched, causing him to gasp and turn. Your voice had been heard in the distance, calling for him, even over the loud crashing water. His nose flared as he picked up your scent in the gentle breeze that wisped through his platinum strands. Was this real? Had Legolas returned you to him as ordered? It couldn't be. It was too soon.

The curious king had to know, for he knew he did not imagine it. Not this time. Off he went, following your cherry fragrance into the murky woods.

Your steps were careful as you walked by the enchanted waters, your eyes and ears cautious of the spiders and other dangers that lied within the sick forest. Your emotions were mixed of both fear and happiness, for you were finally home, but you were scared of the pain it would hold. The surroundings were becoming familiar, for it was where you had entered that fateful night, running from Peter. You still had no idea of how you had ever made it that far in the dead of the stormy darkness, especially now knowing that you had been tracked by the dark elf lord Malsin.

Twigs snapped from behind you, just as they did that night and your reaction was no different. Off you ran, your heart racing faster than your feet, your panting loud and heavy as your red cloak flared out, flapping in the wind. Your wide eyes searched for the sight of Thranduil's halls as his scent grew closer.

It was deja vu all over again as your clumsy feet tripped over something and down you went, face first. The snapping twigs were heard again, but this time, right in front of you. You were now shaking so bad as you slowly drew your eyes up. There in front of you, almost at your fingertips, were a pair of black leather boots and draped around them flowed a sliver sequined robe. Were your eyes deceiving you? Had the black puddled waters that one of the boots stood in, splashed into them upon your impact, causing you to hallucinate?

When your vision became crystal clear, instantly you knew the boots, the robe but all you could do was slowly push your hand through the wet gravel and touch the tip of them with your fingers to make sure it was real.

The smooth warm feel validated that they were, in which it startled you so much that you sucked your hand back under your chest as you gasped. The boot also swiftly slid back and a gasp was also heard from the one who wore them.

Your shaking was now out of control as your eyes climbed up the figure's body to eventually meet the befuddled blue eyes of your living and breathing king, Thranduil.

You slid so fast up to your knees, that your hands scraped through the sharp stones, cutting them, but you felt nothing but the pain of your vision.

"Is...are...this can't...Th...Thra...Thranduil??" you stuttered in pattern to your profuse shaking.

His sparkling moonstone eyes gazed down at you in pure shock, so wide you weren't sure how they remained in their sockets, for to him, you appeared ghost like...but to you, he..was the ghost.

"Josephine....." he softly whispered, barely audible, as nothing but his lips moved.

Stumbling to your feet as if you were drunk, you tried to speak, but nothing came out. Had you died in that hole and were now finally with him on the other side? or were you dreaming the entire thing? Alice in Wonderland maybe? and he was the white rabbit? for he shined so bright.

Instead of speaking, you did what you have longed to do since the day he left, you bolted into his arms, burying your face into his chest, crying your eyes out as you inhaled his scent from his satin hair. His heart, you could feel it rapidly beat against your cheek.

Thranduil himself, could not move, for he didn't know what was happening, but what he did know was that he it was a feeling like no other, the warmth of your petite body against his and he had to touch you, he wanted to touch you....to know you were real.

His arm raised up and he softly placed his hand on your shoulder, releasing a tremulous gasp as he did so. All of his control was gone and he brought the other arm up and around your back, gently caressing it, trying to calm your quivering.

"Is...is..is it really...you?" you muttered into his hair.

Thranduil's mouth hung slightly open as he gazed down at your fiery hair, trying to find the words.

"Yes...it is I...my...my...love."

You gasped and flung your head up, tears streaming down your cheeks as your glistening eyes met his, that danced all over your face in astonishment.

'I...I..I never...thought I...would see you..again...I..."

All you could see was his beautiful heart shaped parted lips and you no longer wanted to speak. Your arms slid up around his neck as you pushed up on your tippy toes and you pulled his lips to yours.

Both of you forgot to breathe for a moment, and then he exhaled heavily and took your mouth deeply into his as he cradled the back of your head with his now shaking hand. You thought your knees were going to give, for that was how weak the kiss made you, but his other arm secured you firmly against him, holding you tight as his tongue then found yours. Slowly and softly, they danced together, his sweet taste melting in your mouth like cotton candy.

He momentarily separated his lips from yours, then angled is head to the other side and took you in fully again with such passion, lifting you from the ground. You were now safe in his arms, your feet dangling in the air as you breathed life into each other.

As the sweet kiss slowly ceased, Thranduil expressed the most loving smile and then...he did it...his own special term of endearment that was only for you...he stroked the back of his fingers down your cheek.

"I...I want to stay with you forever my king. I do not want to go back."

Thranduil went to speak, but he did not get the chance, for you were suddenly ripped from his arms, even as tight as he was holding you...you were being pulled away by an invisible force.

"NOOO!" you screamed as you frantically clawed the air, reaching for him.

"Josephine!!" Thranduil cried back and tried to grab your hand...but then, you were just gone.

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