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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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Next Cinderella AU part ahoy! Time for the whole world to know who the owner of the mysterious slipper left at Florence’s ball -- King Cosimo’s one true love and savior -- truly is...

Makeup in the 17th century was rather limited, though in the later half of the century, rococo fashion brought very pale skin and red lips into vogue in the upper classes, so nobles took to putting on white face paint and powder, rouge, and finally bright red lip color. The closest thing to foundation in the 16th and 17th centuries was Venetian ceruse, an expensive skin whitener made of water, vinegar, and lead. Needless to say, given that last ingredient, it’s unsurprising that using a lot of it would result in hair loss and lead poisoning. People in the 17th century also took to wearing “beauty patches,” or pieces of velvet or silk cut into pretty shapes, to cover up scars or blemishes.

“Lavender’s Blue” is a traditional folk song referenced in Disney’s live action adaptation of Cinderella.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Andre’s plan went into action first thing the next morning. He, KC, and Erika had stayed up all night finalizing their preparations. By the time the clock had struck nine AM, the entire country of Royaume was buzzing with the news that the King of Florence had miraculously survived an assassination plot at the Masquerade and now sought out the “mysterious princess” who had so thoroughly charmed him there so as to make her his queen.

As KC had predicted, soon everyone in the kingdom was preparing for Prince Andre’s arrival so that the eligible young women in their houses could try on the slipper so as to “prove” they were the maiden who had saved King Cosimo. One of those such homes ended up being the Cromwell estate.

Charles Cromwell had been furious to discover that Carewyn had mysteriously disappeared from the still locked tower room without a trace. He’d resolved to use all of his resources to track her down and drag her back home, once breakfast was through. One can imagine that Charles was even less pleased, however, when over that very breakfast he learned the news that Orion had survived the assassination attempt. When he’d seen the scar of Orion’s name appear on his forearm under those of Jacob and Carewyn’s the previous night, he’d thought that it meant that Malfoy and Rakepick were able to tie up the loose ends in his absence, just as he’d told them to. Now it seemed that Orion had just barely managed to survive a dance with Death unscathed...and so not only were his co-conspirators likely in custody, but peace between Florence and Royaume was now a foregone conclusion.

But, it seemed, there was still one chance the Cromwell family could still get ahead. Charles was rather confident that Rakepick wouldn’t turn on him, and Lord Malfoy was unlikely to be believed by either King, given the position Charles had at King Henri’s side and the established friction between Malfoy and Orion. And even if Rakepick was foolish enough to try to betray him, it would be her word against his -- and he knew his word would win out with King Henri, in the end. And now, according to Andre’s decree, the person who could fit the mysterious slipper left at the ball would become the King of Florence’s bride...Queen of an entire country. It was an opportunity Charles knew he couldn’t be foolish enough to pass up -- and so he set about preparing Dahlia, Iris, and Heather for Andre’s arrival.

“My intelligence informs me that the shoe is an unusual size,” Charles instructed them, “so we shall do our very best to ensure that one of you is able to wear it.”

And so the three of Claire’s daughters’ feet were bound in thick bandages under their stockings, compressing their toes so as to make their feet smaller. It was very painful -- all three young women were unable to fight back tears as they waited in the sitting room for Andre’s arrival. They weren’t in much state to walk, so their mother Claire fussed over them by fetching them sweets and peppering them with advice about how to play off their tears as being tears of joy at the thought that they’d see “their precious Cosimo” again.

At long last, after an entire morning and afternoon of trying the shoe on many hundreds of women, Andre arrived at the Cromwell estate, KC and Erika in tow. As planned, not one of the women could wear Carewyn’s shoe -- there were a few who managed to get it on, but were unable to keep it on for very long, whether because it fell off due to being too large or because it was too painfully tight. Andre had had to go out of his way to have the shoe cleaned multiple times throughout the day, so as to make sure it stayed in good condition. One woman had even gone so far as to cut her own toe off to try to make the shoe fit, and Andre had furiously put his foot down, refusing to let someone ruin his work of art with blood stains.

Andre’s arrival at the Cromwell estate was strategically timed to be one of the very last homes with eligible maidens visited. And when Andre greeted Charles Cromwell, decked out in his finest purple and gold velvet tunic, he played it remarkably cool.

“Your Highness,” Charles Cromwell said in a very demure voice. Although his children Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all bowed or curtseyed, he merely gave a respectful bow of his head. “We are truly humbled to welcome you to our home.”

Andre gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you, Lord Cromwell.”

His eyes flitted down to Charles’s right wrist, obscured by his long, flowing black sleeve, and then over at KC, whose eyes were slightly narrowed.

“Father was a bit disappointed when you and your family left the ball so early,” said Andre smoothly.

Charles gave something of a resigned sigh. “Yes, well, my grandson Tristan was up well past his bedtime -- Blaise is very meticulous in maintaining such things.”

His eyes then narrowed almost curiously upon Andre’s face. “Rest assured, had I known how the ball would end, I would have remained by your father’s side until the last.”

“I have no doubt of it,” said Andre, just barely managing to keep his voice level. “Your presence would’ve been very helpful, under the circumstances...”

“You mean in answering to the allegations thrown at Lord Cromwell’s feet?” said Erika in a rather blunt voice.

Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all stiffened. Charles himself, however, didn’t react with any surprise -- instead he only raised his eyebrows.

“‘Allegations?’” he repeated very coolly.

Andre acted dismissive. “The magician captured for the attempt on King Cosimo’s life spun a tale of you having hired her to cast the dark spell on him.”

Charles feigned incredulity. “I, hire a magician? Whatever for?”

“She raved about you supposedly conspiring with a Florentine lord to assassinate King Cosimo and sabotage all chance for a proper peace treaty between him and Father,” Andre rambled on, almost the way he would talk to Carewyn about his upcoming fashion design projects. “Naturally, Father and Mother spoke for you and reassured his Majesty that you would never do such a thing.”

“But of course, your Highness,” said Charles. Despite the humility of his mask-like face, his blue eyes flickered with something like satisfaction. “It’s my and my family’s greatest privilege, to serve yours. Why would I ever harm a man who your family sees as a prospective friend and ally?”

“You see, Erika?” said Andre with a wry smile. “I told you Lord Cromwell would set the record straight.”

Erika crossed her arms, her brows high over her narrowed eyes. “Anyone can spout pretty words. That Florentine Lord spouted plenty of them, before the scar on his arm exposed his guilt.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Erika.

“You doubt my loyalty to the Royaumanian Crown, Lady Rath?” he asked softly.

“I don’t trust people who talk more than they act,” said Erika, perfectly undaunted.

“A proper sentiment for a child who thinks so little that she has even less to say,” sneered Blaise.

“Blaise,” Pearl hissed at him reproachfully.

Erika shot Blaise a very hard look. “You can’t be thinking that much, if you’re not taking your father being accused of treason seriously.”

“Erika,” Andre said sharply, as Pearl grabbed a hold of Blaise’s arm to stop him from striding forward and possibly retaliating. “Father has categorically stated that Lord Cromwell couldn’t have been involved with the plot to kill King Cosimo. And I agree with him -- no blood relation of Carewyn’s could possibly have been involved in something so cruel...”

The mention of Carewyn seemed to make all three of Charles’s children’s eyes darken. In Pearl’s was frustration; Claire’s, irritation; Blaise’s, resentment.

“I agree,” KC said, her eyes drifting over to Charles thoughtfully. “Still, it might be good to set Erika’s mind at ease. Lord Cromwell, would you please show us your right forearm?”

There was a strange flicker in Charles’s eyes. “My arm? Whatever for?”

“All those involved with the casting of a dark spell show visible evidence of it,” said KC pleasantly. “The Florentine Lord and the magician both had it on their arms -- if you weren’t involved, then you wouldn’t have that same proof on yours.”

Charles gave a mild shrug. “Very well, then...”

He lifted his sleeve and held his arm aloft.

The skin was ghostly pale and faintly wrinkled...and yet utterly devoid of any scarring or blood-red letters.

Andre, KC, and Erika all gave a visible start. Charles’s lips spread into a very cool smile.

“There now,” he said as he lowered his arm and shook his sleeve back down into place, “I hope that has...put to rest your concerns.”

His diamond-like eyes shifted to Andre.

“Shall we move to the drawing room, your Highness? My granddaughters should be practicing their needlework there, should you wish them to try on that infamous slipper...”

Andre shot KC and Erika an slightly uneasy glance.

“...Yes,” said Andre at last. “Please, do lead on, Lord Cromwell.”

Charles’s cold smile broadened as he stepped aside to let them enter the manor house. Andre strolled forward, his eyes lingering on Charles’s sleeve as he went.

This didn’t make any sense...Charles clearly had been involved. He couldn’t have hired another magician to cast an illusion on his arm, could he?

But, Andre thought, if it were an illusion, then the injury would still be there, even if people couldn’t see it...just like a beauty patch or...

A thought congealing in his head, the Crown Prince of Royaume purposefully stumbled over his own two feet while crossing the threshold. In his fall, he latched onto Charles Cromwell’s right forearm, clutching it hard as he tried to catch himself in a crouched position. Despite himself, Charles couldn’t stop himself from letting out a bellow of pain.

“Oh...my deepest apologies, Lord Cromwell,” said Andre, his eyes very sharp despite the pleasantry of his expression.

He gave another few sharp clenches to Charles’s arm as he hoisted himself back up onto his feet. When he removed his hand from Charles’s, Andre could see some blood trailing out from under Charles’s sleeve, tinted with what looked like something powdery white.

“Ceruse, Lord Cromwell?” Andre said in a very cool voice. “Hardly a suitable healing tonic, for an open wound.”

He shot Erika a significant look. Erika launched herself forward, grabbing onto Charles. All three of Charles’s children made as if to pull her off of him and Charles wrestled in her grip, but it was no use -- within seconds, she’d yanked Charles’s sleeve back up, to reveal a mess of powdery white ceruse stained with blood. Yanking out her handkerchief from the inside of her dress pocket, KC rubbed the residue away, to reveal the same three names that had scarred Patricia Rakepick’s arm.

Jacob Cromwell.

Carewyn Cromwell.

King Cosimo Amari VII.

Blaise, Pearl, and Claire all recoiled.

“Father?” Claire said shakily.

“That should be enough proof to corroborate Patricia Rakepick’s testimony,” said Andre, “both about the assassination plot and about what you did to Carewyn and her brother.”

All hints of pleasantry had left his face as he stared Charles down.

“Lord Cromwell -- for high treason against the Crown of Royaume, I sentence you to be imprisoned immediately and executed at dawn. Erika -- lock him in irons, to be brought back to the palace.”

Charles’s face had become very pale and mask-like, his eyes very wide and dark with shock, rage, and terror. Pearl and Claire both looked horrified. Blaise -- as shocked as he was -- recovered first when Erika tried to drag his father away. He initially made as if to grab at Erika, but immediately pulled back, his hand clasping at mid-air. Instead he whirled on Andre, his eyes very wide with something oddly panic-stricken.

“Your Highness -- please reconsider! My father is old, he’s not in the highest of faculties -- ”

“Everything he’s done suggests otherwise,” said KC rather coolly.

“Please, your Highness,” Blaise plowed on regardless, “my father has always been loyal to the Crown -- he’s served your family faithfully for so many years, just like all of us have -- ”

“For his own benefit,” scoffed Erika.

“Think of his family, your Highness!” Blaise said in a louder, even more forceful voice, almost trying to block Erika out. “Think of where we would be, without our patriarch! Don’t take him away from his children -- his grandchildren...I will take over all of his responsibilities, as head of our family, if you only release him to my custody...”

Andre wasn’t moved by Blaise’s pleas, but he considered the older man critically for a moment as Erika locked Charles onto the boot of the coach.

“You will never sway me to spare your father, Master Cromwell,” the Prince of Royaume said sharply. “However...there might be one person who could. The mysterious princess who King Cosimo wishes to wed heard of the assassination plot your father has been implicated in and came to the ball in disguise to warn him.”

Pearl gave a start. “That girl...was there to protect him?”

Charles actually straightened up slightly on the boot of the coach. His face was still mask-like and his eyes were still very dark and hollow, but he was clearly listening intently.

“She not only won the King’s heart, but ultimately saved his life,” said Andre. “Even going so far as to shield him from the spell’s effects with her own body without a shred of hesitation. She’s a hero: one that soon all of Florence and Royaume will rightly celebrate as a champion of peace.”

Andre indicated Charles with an offhand incline of his head without taking his eyes off Blaise.

“Perhaps if your family contains King Cosimo’s savior as well as his prospective assassin...the first will be merciful enough to speak on behalf of the second.”

With the terms set, Blaise immediately escorted Andre to the drawing room where Heather, Iris, and Dahlia were waiting. All three of them were surprised, confused, and a bit intimidated when Blaise ordered all three of them to try on the shoe -- Blaise was much less composed than Charles, and his gaze much more openly volatile. Sure enough, though, even with how much all three girls tried to make the shoe fit, it was no use. Iris even managed to shove her foot into the shoe, but it was so narrow that it pinched her already injured feet too badly for her to even speak. When she opened her mouth, all she could do was cry -- and so Claire, distraught beyond reason, wrenched the shoe off of her middle daughter’s foot and cradled her in her arms as if she were a baby.

“It’s my slipper!” wailed Iris. “I swear it is! My feet are just swollen, from all the dancing we did last night -- ”

Andre crossed his arms, his eyes rather dull. “Iris, really -- after how long you stayed in the palace, you don’t think I know full well your feet wouldn’t have fit this shoe?”

Iris was so startled that her tears stilled in her wide eyes.

“King Cosimo deserves better than a woman who would only treat him as an object she can use to her own advantage,” Andre said very coldly. “Just as Carewyn deserves better than being around someone who cowardly tears her down when she thinks no one else can hear her.”

Iris’s face lost all of its color.

“Y...Your Highness -- ” she said shakily, but Andre had already turned his back on her.

“Speaking of Carewyn,” he said airily, “it seems she’s the only one left who could save your father now, Master Cromwell. I sincerely hope you haven’t damaged her feet the way you have your other nieces’...”

Blaise’s jaw clenched.

“I’m afraid Winnie has...disappeared, your Highness,” he murmured. “Just last night, in fact.”

Andre raised his eyebrows coolly. “Really? Well, I can’t say I blame her, under the circumstances.”

He turned to KC and Erika. “Well then, if she’s not here to speak for Lord Cromwell, then there’s no sense in delaying. Let us be off for the palace -- Father will want to know we’ve captured the final culprit in the plot against King Cosimo and prepare the execution block...”

He swept out the door of the manor, Erika and KC behind him, perfectly ignoring how Blaise, Pearl, and Claire dashed after him.

“Your Highness, please -- ”

“We can more than pay any penalty -- please reconsider -- ”

“Please don’t do this -- ”

“I will only accept King Cosimo’s princess’s defense of Charles Cromwell,” Andre reiterated coldly without looking for them. “You clearly don’t have her under your roof, so this discussion is over.”

“But Winnie might still fit the shoe!” said Claire desperately.

Pearl and Blaise shot her a thoroughly appalled look.

“Claire, how dare you suggest such a thing!” snarled Blaise. “As if a low-bred girl like our Winnie could ever charm a King!”

Claire trembled, but actually managed to stand her ground for once.

“B-but her feet are a strange size!” she whispered to her siblings desperately. “They’ve always been ugly and narrow and misshapen -- her shoes were always falling off! And...oh, Blaise, if she could fit the shoe, then at least Father won’t...won’t...”

She broke off, the last flicker of her courage having long been spent.

Both Pearl and Blaise looked like they’d swallowed a lemon. One could wonder what horrified them more -- the thought of having to appeal to Carewyn for help in saving Charles’s life, or the thought that she might actually end up fitting the shoe and becoming Queen of Florence.

Despite the nausea in Pearl’s expression, she nonetheless seemed to come down on Claire’s side. As stupid as Claire could be...Andre himself had said Carewyn was their only hope now.

“Just...just give us time to find Winnie, your Highness,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “She can’t have gotten too far...”

Andre crossed his arms. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“One.”

Everyone turned to look at Charles. He was sitting very still on the boot of the coach in chains. His eyes were so dark in how they glinted that his pale face resembled a skull with diamonds trapped behind his eye sockets.

“There is a boy under your employ called Bill Weasley who trespassed here a week or so ago with his brother, demanding to see my dear Winnie when she was too ill for visitors,” he said in a very cold, detached voice. “Perhaps you should ask him where he’s taken my granddaughter.”

Andre’s lips spread into a very pleased smile. They hadn’t visited the Weasleys’ home since the only single girl who lived there was eleven-year-old Ginny...but Bill and Charlie had planned to sneak Carewyn out that night with Talbott and Badeea, so even if she’d chosen to stay at Talbott or Badeea’s home or even somewhere else, they would undoubtedly know where she was staying.

“You know the way to the Weasley family home, right, KC?” Andre asked over his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Very well -- perhaps they’ll have Carewyn’s new address, then.”

It took Andre’s royal entourage and the accompanying Cromwell coaches about two hours to migrate up the mountains that held the Weasley home. Blaise, Pearl, and Claire had all insisted on coming on behalf of Charles, and Blaise hated the thought of anyone besides him tending to Tristan, so soon the entire Cromwell clan had been piled into their family carriages. Dahlia, Iris, and Heather in particular had to be carried from the house into the carriages by their father, Arsen, and Kain, since their feet were still in too much pain for them to walk on them.

Fred and George had spotted the approaching entourage first, from their spot dangling out of the nearby trees while picking apples with Ron and Percy. The four boys barreled back to the house to get Arthur and Molly, but it wasn’t long after they’d told their mother everything they saw that the sound of whinnying horses signaled their arrival. And as soon as Blaise opened the door of his white coach, he stiffened sharply at the sound of a familiar voice singing through an open upstairs window -- one that, when Andre opened his own gold coach, made the Prince beam from ear to ear.

“I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to sing; When I am queen, dilly, dilly, you'll be my king. Who told me so, dilly, dilly, who told me so? I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so.”

It was Carewyn. For you see, when the Weasleys returned to the Burrow in the wee hours of the dawn after Orion’s coronation ball, they were delighted to find Bill sitting by the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his arms wrapped around Charlie and Carewyn, both of whom were sleeping soundly with their heads resting against his chest. Bill had just barely managed to hush his younger siblings so as not to wake the two, and Molly immediately bustled around to fetch another couple of blankets to wrap around all three of them, as well as some pillows so as to make Bill more comfortable. In the morning, Carewyn had been pretty set on leaving to find her own place -- but as one might expect, all of the Weasleys shut that idea down, passionately insisting that she stay with them.

“No, I can’t put you at that kind of risk,” Carewyn had said insistently. “My grandfather will be angry enough to know that I ran away -- if he knew Bill and Charlie had a hand in it, that you all were harboring me -- ”

Arthur took hold of Carewyn’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about us, Carewyn. I don’t fear Charles Cromwell a ruddy bit, and that goes for Molly too.”

Molly nodded. “Definitely! And after the things we’ve heard, Carewyn...oh, dearie, there’s no way in the world we could ever let you go back to that...that...”

“Demon in human skin?” finished Charlie darkly.

“Not the words I would have chosen, but yes,” sniffed Molly.

Carewyn opened her mouth to argue further, but Bill leaned in to give her a light, chiding tap to her nose.

“Don’t argue with them, Carey -- once Mum’s made up her mind, there’s no changing it.” He grinned. “She’s rather like you that way.”

Carewyn’s expression melted into a weaker, watery smile.

“...Thank you,” she whispered. “All of you...thank you.”

And so now, at the moment that Andre and the Cromwells had arrived at the Burrow, Carewyn had been cleaning in the upstairs hallway, singing as she always did whenever she was working.

Ginny, Molly, and Arthur rushed out of the house, greeting him, KC, and Erika with smiles and hugs. Erika in particular was very confused by the family’s almost aggressive amiability, but Andre responded in full, squeezing Ginny as if she were his own sister and clapping Arthur warmly on the back. It was not a welcome revelation for any of the Cromwells, to see the Prince on such good terms with the family of the people who they thought had stolen Carewyn away. And when Molly volunteered to go fetch Carewyn, she came down dressed in a modest teal dress (a hand-me-down from Molly, which Molly and Carewyn had managed to tailor enough to fit her), Bill and Charlie just behind her.

“Carewyn!”

Andre opened both of his arms and brought them around Carewyn in a warm embrace.

“Andre, it’s so good to see you,” she murmured, closing her eyes to try to hold in her emotion.

The Crown Prince pulled back enough to look her over.

“That color is absolutely radiant on you,” he fawned over her. He glanced at the neatly tied bow in her ponytail. “Especially with your ribbon...a pale blue like that is a perfect shade to contrast your hair.”

Carewyn smiled wryly. “Well, light blue is my favorite color. My real one, I mean.”

Andre blinked, before his face broke out into an even broader smile. “Oh, that’s so much better than ash gray!”

Carewyn’s gaze was then caught by what was attached to the boot of Andre’s coach. The sight of Charles Cromwell locked up in chains, his diamond-like eyes boring into her with an endless, dark stare, made all traces of a smile fade from her face.

Charlie, however, couldn’t fight back a huge, smug grin.

“Well, well,” the second-eldest Weasley spoke to Charles dryly, “if it isn’t Lord Cromwell. Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, you no-good feck?”

“Charlie,” said Bill, but his voice was hardly reproachful as he glared down at Charles. “Don’t waste your breath on the likes of him: he’s not worth it.”

“I do believe I made it clear that your family was to stay away from mine, Bill Weasley,” said Charles in a very low, dangerous voice. “You have a lot of nerve, to steal from me -- ”

“That’s just it, though, Lord Cromwell,” Bill cut him off, his voice growing a bit quieter and harder. He brought an arm around Carewyn, bringing her right up against his side protectively, the same way Jacob might have so long ago. “Carey is my family. So I intend to do whatever I have to make sure you and the rest of your lot never lay a foul hand on her again.”

Blaise’s eyes flashed dangerously. “How dare you -- !”

He raised a hand as if to try to strike Bill, but Carewyn stepped in his way.

“Blaise,” she said in an unusually sharp voice, “the entire Cromwell family was slated to attend the masked ball hosted by the King of Florence...and yet I was not counted among you enough for Grandfather to even consider taking me with you. You can hardly expect me to be considered part of your family now.”

Blaise went sullenly silent. Carewyn looked up at Bill, her stoic expression unable to completely contain the gratitude and affection she felt toward her friend, before she turned to face Andre more seriously.

“Andre...” she said slowly, “it’s not that I’m not glad to see you, but...what is all of this? Why did you bring them here?”

Andre’s eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Last night at the masked ball,” the Prince of Royaume explained, “King Cosimo met a beautiful, mysterious woman dressed as a robin in a pair of shoes made of what looked like colored glass. He danced with this woman and no one else, before the two disappeared from the ballroom altogether. It was only just before midnight that they reemerged, with the woman dashing across the ballroom toward the front doors...the lovestruck King running after her, begging her not to go.”

Andre’s lips curled up in a wider smile.

“This ‘mysterious princess,’ as everyone at the ball called her, had warned King Cosimo of a planned attempt on his life. Had she not come to the ball and danced with the King, it’s certain that he would’ve died, and that all hope for peace between Royaume and Florence would have died with him. Yet she fled the ball so quickly that she never got the recognition she deserved from either my father or King Cosimo for her courage. And because of the powerful illusion she disguised herself with, which made her look different to every single person at the ball, no one knows who she is.”

Andre swept over to the coach, picking up the beautiful hand-painted "stained glass” slipper he’d left on the seat. He cradled it in both hands as he showed it to those assembled. Carewyn’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon it.

“This glass slipper,” said Andre, his smile broadening enough to show his white teeth, “is the only thing she left behind that night, as any indicator of her identity...and whether because of some magic in the shoe or the talents of some incredibly talented master of fashion,” he waggled his eyebrows cheekily, “it has not fit any of the hundreds of women who have claimed to be its owner, seeking to earn King Cosimo’s hand in marriage.”

He beamed at Carewyn much more warmly.

“I seem to recall, however...that you possess a set of feet that is very difficult to properly shoe.”

Carewyn looked from the slipper to up at Andre. Her face was very stoic, but her blue eyes rippled with something deeper.

“I do believe I said that the Cromwells did not allow me to attend the ball, Andre.”

“Yes,” granted Andre. “But our mysterious princess didn’t come with the Cromwells.”

“This ‘princess’ also very clearly wanted no recognition for her ‘courage,’” said Carewyn, crossing her arms. “Why else would she wear such a thorough disguise? Why else would she run from the King before the stroke of midnight, when this illusion she supposedly wore would’ve worn off?”

Andre looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, perhaps...but for a woman so brave...well, it seems rather strange, to want to hide...to deny the best parts of herself: avoid a chance at true happiness, with someone who clearly loves her.”

Carewyn faltered. Andre smiled fondly.

“Please,” he said, “won’t you just try the slipper on? I promise, I cleaned it on the way here.”

Carewyn had to suppress a giggle behind her hand. Her eyes slowly softened upon Andre’s face, before she finally relented and gave a nod.

Charles, Blaise, Claire, Pearl, and the Cromwell cousins all sticking their heads out of their white coaches all watched as the Prince of Royaume bent down in front of his friend, letting her lift her skirt enough to expose her feet. Slipping one of her way-too-big brown shoes off, Carewyn then easily slid her foot into the stained glass slipper.

Which, of course, fit like a glove.

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upstartpoodle · 4 years

Note

Evens for the WIP meme ask? Thank you! ❤️

Hi, thanks for the ask! Since the number of WIPs I have are well into double figures, I’ll probably just choose a bunch of random ones for these out of the ones I’ve got on my computer.

2. Post a line from your WIP without context.

Once they had returned home, he had wanted nothing more than to head up to his room and hide, but his uncle’s iron grip on his upper arm pulling him into the drawing room had thwarted that wish. He hadn’t dared fight against the man. Uncle Cary had made it quite clear upon his arrival back from school that he expected to be obeyed in all matters, and George knew his future was far too uncertain to risk provoking his only remaining family member with displays of defiance.

4. Describe the setting of your WIP.

Hmm, I think I’ll go for my JS&MN AU for this one, an extract of which I have posted here. So this is basically an AU set in the universe of the novel Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell--for anyone who might be unfamiliar with it, it’s a book (and a pretty decent TV adaptation) set in a regency England where magic was once frequently practised but has declined after the Raven King, a medieval magician who conquered the north of England with a fairy army, left his kingdom behind to return to Faerie. The fic is set in Poldark’s s1 timeline, so about fifteen/twenty years before the events of JS&MN canon, featuring Dwight, Ross and Francis as magicians, George as a fairy nobleman from a neighbouring Faerie kingdom, and Elizabeth as a magician’s wife whom George ends up taking an interest in.

6. Search for the word “dream” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

I haven’t been able to find it in any of the extracts I have on my computer, but I’m sure it’s probably there somewhere in one of my notebooks. Unfortunately the majority of those are in a box over three hundred miles away so I can’t really check through them ha.

8. What is your biggest challenge?

Actually getting anything finished. Honestly, it depends on the individual fic but for a long time it’s been writer’s block. My undergrad dissertation took a lot out of me and I wasn’t really in the mood for writing for a long time afterwards. S5 airing gave me a bit of a kick up the arse writing-wise though, so I’d say my biggest challenge at the moment is trying to figure out where everything goes in my super long post s5 AU where George gets shot by Hanson. At the moment I’ve just got loads and loads of random bits with only a vague idea of what order they go in and how they join up to each other, and it’s getting to be so long I just keep putting off planning it out properly. Also finishing that last chapter of The Cornish Way damn I can’t even remember when I last updated that I feel so guilty about it ha.

10. How would you describe your WIP’s narrative style?

Well, as I’ve already mentioned I have a whooole bunch of WIPs, but I always write in 3rd person (1st person grates on me, both reading and writing, for some reason--I don’t know why). I’ve got several multi-chap fics in the works, some short, some long. Most of my shorter multi-chap fics tend to alternate between Elizabeth’s POV and George’s, but my long post s5 AU will feature the majority of the characters’ POVs at some point, depending on when they’re needed, though since the fic is George-centric, his perspective is the main one. When it comes to my one-shots, they’re usually either from George or Elizabeth’s perspectives, sometimes both if it’s a particularly long one. I tend to lean towards using Elizabeth’s POV for one-shots for some reason, but there’s a fair few from George’s as well, and a couple of angsty ones told entirely from Valentine’s perspective.

12. Which character do you have the least in common with?

Since my post s5 AU includes Merceron, Hanson and Dr Penrose, I’m glad to say that I haven’t the slightest thing in common with any of those three. But if we’re talking about a main character, I’d say probably Ross. The only thing I have in common with him is a tendency to get fed up at parties ha.

14. Have you chosen birthdays for any of your characters? If so, when are they?

Not really--tbh, I’m not sure how many of them, if any, were given birthdays by WG. I tend to headcanon George’s birthday as being in October, but that’s about it.

16. What would your characters be for Hallowe’en?

Well, I’ve got a couple of WIPs set in the modern era which this could work for, but since one of them is a modern witchcraft AU (in which Elizabeth, Caroline, Demelza, Morwenna and Verity live together in Truro as a secret coven of witches, Francis is a melancholy ghost who haunts the building and they’ve never been able to exorcise, and George, their landlord’s nephew, is their baffled neighbour who only puts up with their weird shenanigans because he has a soft spot for Elizabeth), I guess that’s appropriately Hallowe’en-y ha. For that AU, I reckon Elizabeth would probably dress up as something kind of classy, like as an Ancient Greek lady or a medieval queen, something like that. Caroline would dress up as a witch, I reckon, for the sake of irony (Horace, of course, would have a complementary costume :P). Verity, I think, would make a cute angel, and one of those wood nymph/woodland fairy costumes would probably suit Demelza. Morwenna might dress up as a Hogwarts student or something like that, and Francis insists that since he is an actual, literal ghost, there’s no need for him to dress up. George, on the other hand, absolutely does not do Hallowe’en, but they still manage to drag him down from the flat upstairs, put a pair of little Devil horns on him and make him watch scary films with them. Which he hates every minute of. Absolutely. Totally.

18. What’s easier, dialogue or description?

It depends, but I generally find description easier than dialogue. When I have dialogue-heavy scenes to write, I generally write them out in my notebooks basically in script form so I can figure out where the scene is going and once that’s out of the way, I find it much easier to add all the description in around it rather than having to constantly stop to figure out what the characters are meant to be saying to each other.

20. Post a brief excerpt.

So there’s a whole load to choose from, but I’ve decided to go with this one, which is from a ghost Elizabeth AU I’ve been working on ever since the end of s4 and have been really struggling to get on with because there’s so much bloody angst in it ha :--

The days leading up to Christmas dragged slowly on, and with each long hour that passed, George found himself regretting his decision to allow their initial plans for the festivities to go ahead with ever increasing certainty. The Blameys were neither unkind nor insensitive—quite the opposite in fact; their presence seemed to restore some faint but much needed cheer to Geoffrey Charles, and the company of another boy near his own age had restored Valentine to a fraction of his usual liveliness—but he, who had never been a friend to Verity, and was not well acquainted with her husband or stepchildren, felt the constant pressure of their scrutiny, alongside the horrible awareness of his own inadequacy as their host, whenever he found himself in their company. Verity, in particular, had taken to sending him at frequent intervals, whenever she saw him decline a meal, or else stumbled across him staring up at Elizabeth’s portrait hanging above the mantelpiece in the drawing room, what he had come to refer to in his mind as Looks. Verity had always been a kind and well-meaning soul, but there was a distinct pitying quality to those Looks which he had come to both resent and despise. He could have far more easily borne it if she had scorned his conduct. Her pity, however, wounded what little care he could summon for his pride in the wake of Elizabeth’s loss—he had no need to be reminded of the wretched creature he was fast becoming every time he met her gaze.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, the morning of Christmas Eve came. It had snowed once again during the night, and upon seeing the unblemished blanket of white through the window upon waking, Valentine and young master Andrew had rushed outside, accompanied by the Blameys Senior and Junior and Geoffrey Charles, in order to enjoy it. As the young Esther, whom it had not taken George long to discover was somewhat reticent in nature, had elected to break her fast in her room, that, unfortunately, left he and Verity alone together at the dining table, save for little Ursula, who was playing quietly and contentedly with her own feet in her cradle beside his chair. At barely a few weeks old, however, she was not quite an accomplished enough conversationalist to distract Verity from engaging with him. With a barely audible sigh, George reached for a slice of toast despite his lack of appetite in a vague hope of fending off another Look which he was sure was on the verge of rearing its unwelcome head above the horizon.

“I am glad to see that the boys have regained a little of their usual cheer,” she spoke up suddenly, causing George to pause halfway towards taking a bite out of his unwanted toast; a glance her way confirmed that, despite his best efforts, he was being treated to what could only be described as a Look. “It is a terrible thing to lose one’s parent, no matter one’s age, and certainly not a burden one should face so early in life.”

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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Comic book Zatanna is VERY different from YJ Zatanna. To such a degree that rather than look at YJ Zatanna as an adaptation of her, I pretty much just think of them as entirely different characters. Like YJ Zatanna is named after her older cousin or something, who’s too busy dealing with mystical threats to ever show up onscreen. Its pretty significant what a difference changing a character’s age and what generation they’re a part of can make.

(Its also why I don’t ship Dick/Zatanna in YJ. My go-to Zatanna will always be the comics one, who’s like....dated his DAD. Its like how a couple of adaptations have tried to pair Bruce/Babs as a nod to like waaaaaaaaaaaaaay early versions of Batgirl, when like...no, Babs has dated Dick, his son, in way too many comics and cartoons what are you even doing, I DISREGARD YOU, FALSE CANON. Anyway.)

So, in the comics, Zatanna is the same age as Bruce, or near enough. And she and Bruce have a long history together, (including at times a romantic one) because in some continuities, before he was Batman, when he was still traveling the world and learning from every teacher he could, he frequently visited circuses and carnivals and the like. They were where he learned escape artist tricks, picked up things from magicians’ acts like Zatanna’s (such as sleight of hand and misdirection, etc), and acrobatics. Its literally been given as a reason he was at Haly’s Circus the night Dick’s parents died - he was scoping out their act to see if there were any tricks he could learn from or incorporate into his own repertoire.

What I’m getting at is Bruce knew Zatanna even before he was Batman for the exact same reason he met Dick. He inserted himself into the circles both of them traveled in as members of performer families with a generations long history with circuses and Vegas and carnivals and the like.

Which means....take Bruce out of the equation, and there’s still every chance that Dick and Zatanna’s paths could have crossed while they were both still performers. And that their families could have known each other.

So! AU where Zatanna was in Gotham visiting friends at Haly’s the night the Graysons died. And rather than watch Dick get shoved into an uncaring system when they took him away from the circus and refused to let him stay with them, the Mistress of Magic spirited Dick away and took custody of him herself.

Leading to Dick being raised by Zatanna instead of Bruce, continuing to work as a performer alongside her but now her magician’s assistant instead of an acrobat - though he still kept up with his acrobatics thanks to Zee’s acrobat friends letting him train on their trapeze whenever he had the itch to fly again. Dick grows up learning escape artist tricks and all the misdirection and sleight of hand Bruce learned from magicians, but straight from the source this time rather than via Bruce.

And eventually, Dick - child prodigy that he is - discovers that Zatanna’s act is the equivalent of hiding in plain sight, the perfect misdirection to cover up that she is a real magician, a homo sapiens magi, born naturally gifted in the mystic arts and one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world. Dick might not ever have her natural aptitude for HER type of magic, but there are many kinds of magic in the world, and thanks to her work (both professional and as a reserve member of the Justice League and occasional superheroine herself). Zatanna knows all the best and most talented magicians and sorcerers in the world. And many of those, Dick CAN learn from.

All of which leads to him eventually sneaking out as a vigilante on his own, combining his acrobatics with things like knife throwing and flashy misdirection that disguises his actual conjurings and spellwork when in the midst of battle. His specialties are illusion magics, spells of disguise and manipulation of shadows, vanishing into smoke and conjuring temporary doubles out of mirrors, etc. Just enough of what he does isn’t real that villains never see it coming when he conjures a real fireball right after they’d identified enough of the previous ones as harmless illusions and thought it was safe to stop dodging. Instead of it being just about raw power, he builds upon his ability to craft and sell an act.

Eventually he forms the Teen Titans with other sidekicks like Wonder Girl, Speedy, Kid Flash and Aqualad...as well as Barbara Gordon aka Batgirl, protégé of the Batman. Even his best friends couldn’t say how much he’s actually capable of - though with them, its not because he doesn’t trust them though, merely because he’s a troll. He always dismisses any talk of him being a sorcerer or calling what he does magic. Instead he just grins and winks and says he knows a few tricks, is all. What he considers ‘a few’ or how far he stretches the definition of ‘a trick’, well, that’s anyone’s guess. His entire hero career and reputation spins out of the fact that he COULD be one of the more powerful sorcerers to walk the earth....or he could simply be a great actor who makes the most out of a relative handful of lesser spells within his capabilities. Even his own teachers can’t say for sure. Every time someone thinks they’ve got his range figured out, he mischievously pulls out a new spell his previous shows of power have never hinted he’d be capable of, just to keep people guessing.

And maybe Zatanna and Dick are back performing in Gotham one winter, and Dick’s off visiting Batgirl while they’re in town, and Zatanna takes a stroll through town and passes through Crime Alley. No particular reason, its just an expedient route and she hardly is someone to take its reputation as a reason she of all people should be concerned.

Which is when a homeless street kid named Jason Todd tries to pick her pocket. Naturally, it doesn’t exactly work out for him, given who she is, but Zatanna Zatara is one to appreciate the irony of someone trying to pick HER pocket...as well as impressed at how close he comes to actually managing it. She takes him to a diner to feed him, coaxes enough of his story from him to figure out he has no one to look out for him and will never trust Gotham’s foster system (not that she’d blame him, given what she saw of it when she first took custody of Dick and had doubts about whether she was doing the right thing for him)...and figuring since it worked out well for her the first time she went down this road, offers Jason a fresh start elsewhere with her and Dick.

It isn’t long before Jason’s intellect and skilled hands prove equally effective at sleight of hand and magician’s tricks, as well as an eager student for every bit of actual magic his new big brother shares, along with what he learns from the teachers Zee and Dick both introduce him to. Over time, he gravitates towards different tutors specialties than Dick though. Illusions and mindgames, smoke and mirrors...that fits Dick’s natural showmanship and performer’s nature, but its not Jason’s style. Oh, he can bluff the hell out of anyone, never play poker with him, and his natural bravado easily translates into working a crowd and playing a stage alongside Zee and Dick when working. Its just not his preference is all.

No, he goes more for practical magic, straightforward approaches to achieving his intended results. Cut out the bullshit. Spells of primal force or elemental magicks, charms and runes of strength, healing and protection to augment his capabilities when he wades into a fight fists first and just starts brawling. He’s not afraid to summon a demon or two and make a bargain to achieve his ends - he’s even got the names of a couple inked into his skin as tattoos, a summoning shortcut that lets him call on his personal faves in a moment of desperation. Even demons have trouble circumventing a summoning or breaking free of its parameters when those things are etched permanently onto his body.

Dick does tend to have a few elemental spirits always nearby and easily summoned without much notice or prep time, but Dick being Dick, in his case its just because he made friends with them. There’s a couple of wind sprites always hanging around on the off-chance he gets into a fight and might need their help. They find such instances to be extremely fun and exciting, and also they’ve adopted the fun little bird human who flies as a kindred spirit.

In contrast, Jason comes home one day and Zatanna catches him trying to change the coverings on a new tattoo without her noticing. She's not mad because he's fifteen and not supposed to be getting tattoos. She's not exactly thrilled about that either, but no, of greater concern to her is the fact that the tattoo is a name written in a long dead alphabet. A name she recognizes as that of a primordial demon she was extremely clear about being one of those forces beyond her teenage son's ken, and which he most certainly was not supposed to be messing around with.

Jason's expression tightens mulishly and Zatanna longs for the days when that was just purple prose she read in books sometimes while wondering vaguely how that even worked and what that actually looked like.

"Dick said I had to," her younger son says. He folds his arms across his chest defiantly. Zatanna closes her eyes and counts to five.

"I did not!" her older son yells right on schedule. The air shimmers like heat waves rising off pavement on a hot summer day and Dick drops the cloaking spell he's been using to eavesdrop. She's not sure why he even bothered with the thing; they both knew he was there the whole time. Not because his spell hadn't been text book perfect and beyond even her ability to pierce mystically, but because Dick tended to forget all the magic in the world can't keep predictable behavior from being predicted.

"You literally said Jason, you gotta do the thing," Jason insists, doubling down. Dick's arms flail like an anthropomorphic windmill tripping on shrooms.

"No, I literally said Jason, don't do the thing," Dick shrieks, cartoonishly outraged. Zatanna fights back a small smile despite the situation. She's seen her eldest smoothly engage a minor deity in a verbal chess match as the fate of his fellow Teen Titans hung in the balance, all without once breaking a sweat. One blatant lie delivered straight to his face by his younger brother though, and he went zero to sixty in two point five seconds, skipping straight past the realization he was being played. Zee still had every intention of grounding her youngest for the next decade for being so dumb as to ink himself with a mystical tether to a demon that once ate an entire civilization - yes, ate - but that didn't mean she couldn't also be impressed at Jason's attempt at finessing himself out of this situation. He'd jumped straight to the only thing that had even had a prayer of distracting Zee from his teenage idiocy - Dick at Defcon Five. Now if only she could get him to apply that same level of forethought to things like oh, the possible longterm consequences of giving a supernatural Being of Mass Destruction a direct dial up connection to him....

Dick turns desperate eyes on her. "Seriously Mom, I swear. I said the actual words 'Jason NO.'"

"See?" Jason flings his arm at his brother in triumphant vindication. "Have you met me? Everyone knows that's code for 'Jason YES.'"

"Oh my god, I will curse you to rot the pages of every first edition you touch," Dick hisses dramatically. Jason pales briefly, but rallies.

"And really, how is this any different from when you slept with Batgirl and I said that was a really bad idea and its totally gonna end up biting you in the ass, and then you said that I shouldn't have told you to do it then?"

"That's completely different," Dick howls, reverting back to Windmill, Drunk In A Windstorm. "You said 'Don't be mad, but that new scrying spell I was trying accidentally locked on to Batgirl instead of Batman and I saw her walking home from school out of costume just for a second before I shut off the spell but spoiler alert, she doesn't wear a wig while in costume, she really is a redhead even with her cowl off, which means now you gotta sleep with her, like, we all know its gonna happen anyway now. PS its Barbara Gordon, that's the punchline, you're already obsessed with her, oh crap now you're gonna be insufferable huh.' Which by the way, I so am not. Jerk."

"Yes," Jason says slowly and with exaggerated patience. Zatanna's migraine builds and builds. "And then I said, 'Dick, no, stop, I was making a joke, you don't actually have to...' and you said 'No, but I gotta'. Your shirt was practically already off by the time I finished saying 'redhead.'"

"Well, duh! Of course it was! Have you met me?" Dick volleys back in what Zee really hopes is her eldest making a deliberate callback to her youngest's earlier crack, and not some bizarre teenage superstition that has him actually thinking nope nope those thoughts are in the Bad Place, Zatanna, its absolutely believable that Dick is actually still twelve and the boys are just using embellishing language to feel grown up. C'mon, if you try hard enough you can milk a good thirty more seconds of denial about your son's sex life, you're literally magic, you can do this.

The ludicrousness of it all is so effortlessly identical to his brother's idiocy just moments prior, Zatanna has a brief, uncharitable thought that the Graysons had a second child they gave up for adoption and nobody ever told either of the boys. She opens her mouth to put a stop to the nonsense, but what comes out:

"You slept with Bruce's protégé?"

Dick pauses mid-rant and fidgets uneasily. His eyes dart around the room as if expecting the Batman to appear, summoned by the power of his name. "Umm. Only a couple times?" he says slash asks, warily.

"On several different occasions," Jason adds gleefully. Zatanna rubs her temples and rounds on him before Dick can return fire.

"And you tried to scry Batman?"

"Umm," Jason stutters. Stops. Aims an accusing finger at his brother again. "Dick dared me to!"

"That's it! Curse coming right up," Dick snaps, fingers crooking into arcane gestures.

"Enough! Both of you!" Zatanna feels slightly guilty when both boys fall silent and hunch over, metaphorical tails between their legs. Even when they were being obnoxious, it was still weirdly charming in a way - eww, who even was she right now? Maternity was a mistake. Still, she couldn't find it in herself to bring down the full force of her ire when all they were doing really was being....ridiculous boys being ridiculous brothers. She sighs and contemplates telling them just to go to bed, they'd discuss it in the morning after she'd had time to cool off and think about it....decides god no, that risks all of this happening all over again. Splits the difference and calls it a night.

"Jason, you're grounded for a month for whatever you did to even get someone to give you a tattoo while under eighteen without parental approval. And you're grounded from any spells outside of lesson plans and homework assigned by one of your tutors until you can tell me in detail why I'm concerned your choice of tattoo was an absolutely terrible idea, and you can present me with no less than three different wards or counterspells that prepare for the possibility of that absolutely terrible idea becoming an absolutely terrible catastrophe. Not a word," she finishes sharply with a pointed finger, when he starts to protest. He sulkily subsides again.

"Dick, one word answers only, no explanations, excuses or qualifiers. You made sure Barbara knew exactly who you were and that you knew exactly who she was before you both....made it extremely awkward for me to look Bruce in the eye at the next Justice League meeting?"

"Yes," Dick says wincing.

"You used protection....each time on each different occasion?"

"Yes," her eldest says, examining the floor as if weighing the likelihood of it opening up and swallowing him whole.

"You're not being every gross stereotype of teenage boys as normalized by Hollywood, using or objectifying girls in the name of toxic masculinity - you actually have feelings for this girl?"

"Yes," he says firmly, meeting her eyes again. Zatanna nods, letting that linger as she absorbs both his sincerity and the passage of time. Where did the last decade and that little eight year old with the baby fat and chipmunk cheeks go? But then, this is good too, she decides, and she nods, satisfied. Course, a little embarrassment is good for the soul, she figures.

"You understand that the world is full of other smart, beautiful redheads you could have chosen to pursue with far less complications?"

"Be right back, have to go die now," Dick announces loudly, and Zatanna chuckles and takes pity on him. Jason's paler Irish skin goes red at the drop of a hat, but it takes a much higher level of mortal humiliation for Dick's darker skin to betray any kind of blush.

"Nothing to get all red in the face about, sweetheart," she says because look, her kids had to get it from somewhere. Jason cackles, doubling over with mirth and Zatanna makes her exit while her youngest is too busy being amused at his brother's expense to remember he's ticked about being grounded.

She lingers on the other side of the wall, drinking in the sound of Jason's laughter and Dick's sulking, long enough that she's still there to overhear when Dick silences his brother's entertainment:

"Saved your ass, you manipulative little shit. Don't think I didn't know what you were doing there. You owe me for playing along."

"Yeah, yeah, all hail Benevolent Big Brother Dick," Jason grumbles, but there's gratitude beneath the grumbling. Zatanna's eyes narrow as she reflects on how much lighter a sentence Jason ended up with, compared to what her first instincts had intended. Well, crap. Dick hadn't been the one oblivious to all the layers of that little episode at all, had he? That was annoyingly humbling. Still, Zatanna shakes her head at herself and goes to bed with a smile. She respects the art of the con too much to be upset her children learned more from her teachings than she'd realized.

Well played, boys.

The brothers' respective preferences in summonings aren't the only places they differ. Where Dick has a half a dozen spells of invisibility or intangibility on stand by in case he needs to sneak into a heavily fortified place, Jason stays stocked up with an equivalent number of spells capable of just blowing the front door off its hinges.Of course, Tim Drake being Tim Drake, his inclusion into their little family happens exactly as you’d expect.

He literally follows them home one day.

His neglectful absentee parents are archaeologists, after all. Spending more of their time away at dig sites than at home with him. When they are home though, they make a show of caring, take him out to the circus and to shows, parading him in public so everyone can see what a nice family they all are and how much they dote on their only child. So just like in canon, Tim’s there at the circus too, the night the Graysons are murdered. And in the years to follow, he’s at a number of the Zataras’ magic shows, and easily puts together that Dick and Jason are the two masked mystical teen superheroes that spend as much time doing flips and punching and kicking villains as they do weaving actual spells.

And his parents, being the kind of archaeologists who grew up as rich bored white Gotham elites who picked archaeology as their field of study because its not like they actually needed to work and they’d watched Indiana Jones so often, they were like, yes, excellent, I will model my life adventures and career path after this movie and its depiction of archaeology....

Like, so clearly, they’re the dumbass kind of archaeologists who have no actual respect for the artifacts they dig up and just like how they look in their home or behind glass museum cases with plaques about who donated them.

Tim however, is not dumb, way better than his parents, and has a lot of free time and a hobby of researching EVERYTHING. So eventually he discovers the real origins of a lot of artifacts his parents have around the house, and determines that a) they really shouldn’t be here, and b) some of these have spiritual and even mystical reputations and power and are possibly very dangerous in the wrong hands or even just from being removed from their resting places or lands/cultures of origin, so they REALLY shouldn’t be here.

So the next time the Zataras’ magic show comes to Gotham, he (carefully) stuffs his backpack full of as many as he can carry, and sneaks out to go watch the show. And then he follows them back to where they’re staying, introduces himself and says he knows who they are and could they please help him return all these artifacts to where they belong and also hurry because some of them might blow up the world if they’re gone too much longer and that’s not WHY he wants to return them, like they should just because its the right thing to do, but he thought he should mention it because it seems like its an important factor. He’d do it himself, but he’s not allowed to go on a plane by himself, but he did write apology notes to go with each artifact for taking them without asking, and also could he have their autographs?

Dick blinks cartoonishly large eyes, sweeps the ten year old off his feet into a giant hug and announces, “We’re keeping him.”

Zatanna tries to do this in an orderly fashion, of course. “Tim, where are your parents? Do they know you’re here?”

Dick sniffs. “Irrelevant. We’re keeping him. Look how adorable he is, is there really anyone who could possibly appreciate his adorableness more than us? No. Ergo. We’re keeping him.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “He’s not a pet, asshole. And adorableness isn’t a word, stop making up words, I will punch you I swear. But also yeah, we’re keeping him.”

Tim’s heart is having a full on meltdown at the thought that two of his heroes want him to stay, but he’s a Drake and Drakes are very big on Proper and protocols and decorum, and he’s pretty sure this isn’t how things work. “I’m not actually supposed to be out by myself, so I definitely should be home before nine cuz that’s my bedtime...”

Dick takes him into his bedroom, drops him on his bed and says: “There you go. You’re in bed and its not even eight o’clock yet. Problem solved.”

“...I think it only counts if I’m in bed in my bed?”

Dick snaps his fingers and the headboard is mystically inscribed with “Tim” in a flourish of colorful sparks. “See? Its your bed now, it has your name on it and everything. This can be your new room and I’ll bunk with Jay. We can’t have you share a room with him, he snores and you’re too adorable to inflict that on. Growing boys need at least eight hours of RESTFUL sleep.”

Tim chews his lip. He’s not entirely sure the older boy’s logic is sound, but when laid out in that fashion, it doesn’t sound completely unreasonable, right? He makes one last token attempt to get up. Jason sits on him. Gently, but still.

“Oh no, we’re holding him against his will. We’ve officially kidnapped him at this point,” Jason says cheerfully. “Mom, you better go find his parents and tell them their son is missing and being held hostage and won’t be released until they can explain to the police why their son’s kidnappers had to notify them that their son was missing and had wandered all the way through Gotham at night alone.”

Tim protests. “Its not a big deal. I do that all the time!”

Jason and Dick look at him. Look at each other. Look at Zatanna. Arch their eyebrows expectantly.

Zatanna sighs. As ridiculous as her boys are being, this has played out about how she expected it would the second she realized the ten year old was completely on his own and used to it. And let’s face it. They’re only like this because she’s like this. She regrets everything except also she regrets nothing. Not that she’ll tell them that right now. They both look a little too smug in her opinion. Let ‘em sweat for at least a few hours. “I’ll go see what the situation is and figure out what to do next. Stay here and don’t let him eat too much sugar. And if you watch TV, nothing R-rated.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “We know. We’re not gonna scar the kid in like, the few hours you’re gone.”

“You made your brother watch The Babadook when he was eleven.”

“Well that’s different. He was being an ass. Timmy’s being adorable. Completely unrelated situations,” Dick says in the tone of someone who thinks they’re being reasonable. Jason scowls.

“Wow, are you seriously victim blaming me for the nightmares I got from that shit? Way to make fun of my psychological trauma, asshole.”

“Hey, I didn’t MAKE you watch that movie. I TOLD you to go to bed.” Dick idly examines his nails. "You’re the one who said you were too old to have a bed time and you could stay up as late as I could and anything I could watch you could watch too.”

“Oh please. That’s basic reverse psychology. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“But Jay-jay, I thought you were too smart to ever fall for my tricks the way all my dumbass friends always do! Are you saying that’s not true? Did I actually manipulate my brilliant little brother who has always been much too clever and much too observant to ever be tricked into doing exactly what I wanted him to do? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Hey good news, Tim, neither of us will have to share a room after I murder this assface in his sleep.”

“Don’t worry Timmy, that’s just Jason for I love you.”

Zatanna sighs again and leaves before they can see her grinning. She enables their antics far too much as it is.

Within a week, the Zataras officially have custody of Timothy Jackson Drake. The boys are pretty sure that’s way too quickly for it to have happened legally, and there might have been a spell or two speeding up the process. But they don’t actually care, so. Yeah.

Unlike his brothers, Tim is the only one to fully embrace the titles of magician or sorcerer. His mind is his strength, research is his specialty, and its just inefficient in his opinion to waste time with acrobatics and brawling that comes naturally to them but would need to be acquired skills for him. Instead he just devotes all his learning to the mystic arts, learning from teachers of all kinds of specialties, but also just as much from his research of old texts and his theorizing on the natures of various forms of magic and how they interact. He happily spends hours poring over a dozen different translations and scribbling notes as he goes, distilling complex rituals into new forms that allow for the substitution of more commonplace ingredients and thus greatly widen the scope of his repertoire. He has a talent for doing all the legwork on a dozen different spells of incredible complexity and then leaving them ‘hanging’, with just the last bits incomplete, easily stored in his eidetic memory for him to call upon and trigger in mere moments as he finishes the last bit of any given spell with just a few words, thus doing in the heat of battle what other sorcerers would require hours to replicate.

All three end up gravitating to different superhero teams as they grow older, but all of them have their reputations with the hero community at large. Its generally expected that if you have a problem that needs a magical solution, and you’ve got enough time for preparation and planning - you call Tim. If you need to blow shit up and in a hurry - you call Jason. And if you’re just plain fucked and need a Hail Mary - you call Dick.

You’re usually gonna get all three anyway though, so whatever.

At some point when Tim's around fifteen or so himself, the Court of Owls ends up trying to get their Talons on Dick, because they suck and are terrible and entitled and their only real possible value comes from being a wasted potential metaphor for how often everyone seems to have their own ideas or expectations for what Dick should be doing or saying or feeling at any given time, with most of the things others get pissed about him for in the comics essentially boiling down to Dick doing or saying or feeling things that don't match up to their expectations or presumptions, and that people wouldn't bat an eye about anyone else doing or saying or feeling, its just Dick's supposed to be different, he's doing (x) wrong, ugh he can't even be traumatized properly without him usually ending up apologizing to other people for the fact that he was the one who was just screwed over, weird, its almost like these things are connected. I mean whoops, this is story time, not meta about all the thoughts and feels I, the dastardly fourth wall breaking narrator, have whilst butthurt on behalf of Dick. My badness.

Ahem.

Yes, when last we left our intrepid heroes, rich entitled bastards with a pervy penchant for nursery rhymes and child assassins had set their sights on claiming Dick and turning him into their mindless zombie bird-themed killing machine.

In all fairness, they did lead with the extremely persuasive argument of 'look we totally called dibs before he was even born, so.....step off??'

Then they kidnapped him and attempted to turn him into their mindless zombie bird-themed killing machine.

Compelling argument though that may be, Dick's brothers are not impressed. They are, however, magical, hyper-competent and extremely petty slash vindictive.

All of which is to say, Tim turns the Court into a bunch of actual owls. And then Jason summons a giant murderous hawk-demon from another dimension that eats all the owls.

And then they wait for Dick to wake up from all the drugs the Court pumped him full of in preparation for The Ritual of Zombie Assassin Making. And Tim just has to ruin it, that asshole.

"You know, hawks aren't naturally the enemies of owls," Tim says out of nowhere. Well. Not out of nowhere so much as out of concern, because Tim's natural physiological response to being worried is to get pedantic.

"What," says Jason flatly. Which is his natural physiological response to Tim being. Y'know. Tim.

Tim shrugs, his eyes intent on their older brother, who is still making like Sleeping Beauty and sooooo gonna get razzed by them for that later, once the Worry and Anxiety have all exited stage right. "It just felt like you were going for a theme. Which is fine, I'm just saying, owls don't actually have natural predators. One might occasionally get killed by a hawk, but usually that's more of a territorial dispute and still pretty much an outlier in terms of statistics."

"Why would you even say that to me right now," says Jason flatly. Not asking, because its a rhetorical question and he's currently glaring the answer to it straight at Tim's back, and that answer is ugh you are such an annoying little shit sometimes.

Which is why when Dick groggily starts to come to, he's greeted by a soundtrack of:

"God, I'm so sorry, I'm just the worst for giving you information that you didn't know before, since clearly if you had you wouldn't have gone with a hawk!"

"Well what the fuck should I have gone with, a demonic taxidermist? Like excuse me for being in such a rush to heap vengeance on the pretentious shits who kidnapped our brother, I didn't have time to go to wikipedia and figure out the most appropriate dramatic irony!"

"First off, why would you ever go to wikipedia as a source, we have literally had this exact argument several dozen times - "

"First off, are you seriously giving me bullet points right now. Seriously. Bullet points. Right now. That's a thing that's happening."

"You are such an infant. How are you older than me? I make one little critique and you bite my freaking head off - "

"What's happening?" Dick croaks out into one of the few synchronized pauses for breath. "Where are we?"

"The secret underground lair of an evil society of ornithologists who kidnapped you because your milkshake brings all the weirdos to the yard," Jason says crankily, still glaring at Tim.

Not that fuzzy, barely conscious but always guilt-prone Dick could possibly know that its not actually him Jason's ticked at. Tim face palms at his middle brother because what are bedside manners, clearly.

"A bird-themed cult calling themselves the Court of Owls pre-selected you to be turned into the general of their elite zombie assassin army," Tim recites quickly, predicting Dick's likely request for further information.

"Well that's rude," Dick frowns. He cracks open one eye experimentally, winces when even the dim lighting is enough to give his pounding headache a booster shot. Tries the other eye. Nope. Both eyes are in agreement. Light is the enemy of all that is good right now. Ugh. Definitely rude. He likes light. How dare someone incite this unforgivable betrayal from his BFF, light? "I don't think I care for their recruitment strategy. Although at least they wanted me to be the Boss Zombie Assassin I guess."

"Yes," Tim replies dolefully. "That does appear to be the silver lining here."

Despite their antagonism of thirty seconds ago, Jason snickers. They're nuanced like that.

"Well his usual priorities seem to be in place, so I think its safe to say we got to him before they could do any actual brainwashing," Jason says. "All in favor of blowing this popsicle stand?"

"Wait, there are popsicles?"

"No, there aren't popsicles in the evil cult's secret underground murder lair. Its a figure of speech, dumbass."

"Hey," Dick pouts. He coughs once, weakly, but Jason's eyes narrow in sudden suspicion of Milking It Syndrome. "Be nice to me. I was just kidnapped and almost made an Elite Zombie Assassin Boss and my head hurts and is all fuzzy and you know how I feel about popsicles. You shouldn't joke about them if you don't have any, that's just mean. But uh, should we be rushing? If the bad guys are coming back soon I do vote for the not being here option, like, just in case turning me into the Zombie Apocalypse is still on the evil cult agenda."

He would manage to latch onto the Elite and Boss part of that info dump, wouldn't he, Jason muses. What's the timeline for how long you have to express sympathy for your almost-brainwashed brother before you can yell at him for being insufferable about it? Is half an hour long enough?

"No, its fine," Tim assures their brother. "We uh....were slightly miffed about the whole kidnapping you thing, and so we were.....efficient? I guess you could say? About making sure they wouldn't do it again. I turned them all into owls."

"And then I summoned a hawk demon that ate them. You're welcome," Jason adds, not about to be left out. Even if he's going to have words later about being characterized as 'miffed.' The walking almanac knows more words in more languages than anyone in human history, pretty much, and he goes with miffed. The fuck, Timmy. The actual fuck.

"Aww, you guys, that's so sweet." Dick beams at them. Albeit at somewhat lower than his usual wattage. Then his forehead wrinkles slightly in confusion. "Why a hawk demon? Do owls not like hawks or something?"

Tim smirks at Jason viciously.

"I hate you with the searing intensity of a thousand suns," Jason tells his brat of a younger brother. "Also, gonorrhea."

Zatanna then teleports into the middle of the room with a flash of light and a hurried rush to the side of her lying-on-the-ground, suddenly flailing eldest son.

"Gah, evil light is evil! Curse your betrayal!" Dick wails dramatically, flinging an arm across his face despite the visible effort movement is still taking. Because he really is just that invested in keeping his Melodrama Game on point, willing to play through the pain if necessary. Jason rolls his eyes. If nothing else, he can at least respect his older brother's ability to commit.

"What happened here?" Zatanna wastes no time before asking, even as she begins running her hands lightly over Dick and muttering chants to divine for unseen injuries or influencing substances. Tim catches her up to speed with another dry recitation of the day's events. It doesn't sound any less ridiculous the second time around.

"And you two decided to just rush right into the heart of a criminal organization's secret headquarters with no plan, no way of knowing what you were jumping headfirst into and no back up?" Zatanna snaps out in a biting tone that's 70% Frantic Motherly OMG I Could've Lost All Three Of You I Don't Know What I Would've Done and 30% How Are You Seriously This Dumb, No, I Really Want To Know, You Boys Share Zero Genetics So It Can't Possibly Be Mutually Inherited Dumbness And Yet Here You All Are Being This Dumb, How, Why, I Strenuously Object.

At least, Jason's pretty sure its 70/30.

Eh. Maybe 60/40.

He looks at Tim and they both shrug. "We left a note," Jason offers lamely.

Their mightily miffed mother - and Jason totally gets it now, good call on that one actually, Timbo, Miffed can totally be intimidating, turns out - is not even slightly appeased.

"Yes, I did see your note," Zatanna says, slow and dangerous, an ominous cold front that's frosty enough to reverse global warming. Jason shivers. "The one that read 'Dick kidnapped by crazy bird freaks. Went to go get him. Somewhere in Gotham's sewers. Ugh why is it always sewers, I fucking hate sewers. Be back later. Love, Jason and Tim.' That note?"

Jason's honestly not sure what the problem is. All the relevant information was there. Tim glares at him.

"I knew I should have written the note," he hisses like an angry cat. Jason rolls his eyes again, because really, what other weapon does he have against his brothers' Drama?

"We had time for me to write a note, Tim. We didn't have time for you to write an essay with fully annotated footnotes all properly accredited according to MLA approved guidelines."

"I can be brief!"

"Name one time that you have ever been brief about anything. Ever."

Tim hesitates.

"Just because I can't think of anything right this second doesn't mean it didn't happen! You're just putting me on the spot," he sulks.

"Whatever. I'm not going to apologize for being in a rush. We had an older brother to save from evil brainwashing birdwatchers, remember? Would everyone prefer we took our sweet time and got here and found Zombie Dick instead?"

Tim wilts. Their mother thaws. Jason savors the moment. He so rarely gets to enjoy the moral high ground. Its nice, really. He can kinda see the appeal from up here, actually.

"That's Elite General Zombie Dick to you, peon," Dick chooses that moment to interject. Jason inhales through his nose. Five seconds. Five whole seconds that lasted.

"Seriously?" He asks his older brother. Dick blinks innocently.

"I am very traumatized by my near undeath experience," he explains. "That's just my coping mechanism."

Jason's eye twitches.

Later still, Jason somehow winds up getting into it with the Joker of all people, in Ethiopia of all places. Seriously, what, he still doesn't understand how or why any of that happened. His life, man. So fucking random.

But that's a story for another day. It doesn't end all that badly, all things considered, not nearly as bad as it could've. The moral of the story is essentially that six out of seven days, Jason is still the brother best avoided in dark alleys, but on the seventh day....Dick and Timmy are perhaps best avoided as well.

And later still, some jackass with a Wizard of Oz fetish decides that Tim-napping isn't just the worst colossally bad fucking idea any misfiring synapses have ever conceived. In this AU though, we stan brothers who check, double check and triple check before calling a time of death, because like the saying goes, fool us once, shame on you, fool us thirty seven times in just any single given decade, then yeah, that's probably on us at that point....

But non-brother approved Tim Tormenting is highly frowned upon in this universe, so Dick and Jason make like the Brothers Grimm, sharpen their spells and go questing down a literal yellow brick road that Dick conjures to lead them straight to the mysterious Mister Oz. And one of these days, Jason would really like to know where Dick gets some of his spells, he really would. Because. Yeah. Never mind, that's best unpacked another day, he figures.

Truthfully, that's all a story for another day as well, as Dick and Jason and Tim probably need to compare notes first and clear up a few things among themselves. None of them are entirely sure they even get what all of that was even about at all. It all seemed very strange and unnecessary, the standard villain monologues were a lot less explanatory than usual, nobody ever really satisfactorily explained Why You So Creepily Interested In Our Baby Bro, Bee Tee Dubs, and the deeper down the rabbit hole they all went, the more every reveal seemed to lead to an increasingly smaller Russian nesting doll hidden inside in the previous one.

And maybe the bad guy was Superman's dead dad from Krypton, which...okay, weird, whatever. And maybe he was just a patsy and the real monster all along was this giant glowing blue guy who seemed to have every power imaginable except for the power to put on a freaking pair of pants? I mean, everyone needs a gimmick, I guess. And then behind that funhouse mirror they found maybe the real villain all along was some rando in a toga who called himself Ozymandias and claimed to have been a hero, and nope, nuh uh, Jason isn't buying that for a second, he says you named yourself in reference to a line that literally says Look Upon My Works O Ye Mighty And Despair and you're saying everyone just went yup, that checks out, we've got ourselves a hero here, pure intentions through and through? Nope, sorry, not buying it.

And Ozy's face got as purple as the costume that would've gotten him in the door to any frat party but not much else, and honestly, as much as it flaps in a firm breeze its not even a step up from Dr. Moons Over Manhattan's permanent residency at a nude ranch he takes with him everywhere he goes, more of a lateral move really....

And he opened his mouth to say something suitably villainous and to do something no doubt dastardly, but that's when Dick cut him off with a yawn and a "Oh my god I have never been this bored in my life, I honestly don't care. Literally nobody asked." And he conjured up his yellow brick road again, told them he had no idea which of them needed the brain, which the heart and which the courage, but like...discuss among yourselves, and then he and Jason punted all three losers off to see the Wizard except Dick shrugged after shutting down the spell and said that guy died, like, five years ago. Its just no one else there has figured that out yet. Whoops. Oh well.

Look, its as clear and understandable a resolution to that particular adventure as anyone else might have doled out over an unnecessarily padded number of weeks until the patience of everyone involved was stretched well past the point of reason, so....whatever. That's what happened, the end.

And then Jason blows some shit up until he feels better about how obnoxiously pointless all that was and there's lots of yelling about worst bad guys ever, is there no vetting process anymore, are the inmates running the asylum, has the whole universe gone mad. Which somehow segues into Tim yelling about is Jason seriously upstaging him at his own Dramatic Rescue, how is this about him, oh my god, can't I even get five whole minutes to angst without you carjacking the family Waah-mobile.

Meanwhile Dick leans back contentedly against the one wall still standing as a convenient backdrop, and watches the baby bros go. And Mom says they don't have any family traditions.

He actually really enjoys these moments. At least the ones where nobody's yelling at him.

But again, as I said....really all that's a tale for another day. On this day, what remains of significance is the universal truism that no matter the universe, the timeline, the place or the time or the people.....

If there be a Bruce, then that Bruce is gonna Bruce.

And we all know what that looks like.

That is to say:

Meanwhile, back in Gotham, events unfold in strangely familiar ways. Even if some of their usual players are currently preoccupied sojourning their way back across the dimensions before they're late for dinner and Momma Zatara has their heads. Adopted though her kids may be, Zatanna is still an Italian mother. And you do not fuck with an Italian mother's family dinner plans.

That's how people die.

But fractionally less dramatically than Zatanna sits awaiting her boys' late arrival to dinner with a A Damn Good Explanation For That If They Know What’s Good For Them, Bruce meets Cassandra Cain and rescues her from her father.

He’s still Bruce Wayne, even if events played out differently for his first three canon kids. So he does what any Bruce would do and adopts her.

And then Cass brings Stephanie home and says she’s a runaway and her dad was a villain and well, what’s Bruce gonna do, not adopt her? Don't be absurd.

And then Talia shows up on Bruce’s doorstep and shoves a ten year old Damian at him and says "Congratulations, its a boy. Please take care of him while I go and try and kill my father and sister without getting killed by them first. I’m not sure how long that will take but my father has managed to last six centuries despite countless betrayals so I suspect it might be awhile."

I imagine these events all happen roughly in the span of a month, because there is no such thing as a world where Bruce knows how to pace himself.

There’s also no such thing as a world where Bruce knows how to gracefully ask for help. But even at his most stubborn he’s capable of recognizing when things fall outside his skillset and his best move is to seek advice from experts in fields outside his expertise. Like parenting.

And his old friend Zatanna has raised three boys who are well loved and respected by the entire hero community, so she must know what she’s doing. Yes, absolutely, his frazzled mind decides. Zatanna will have all the answers. His logic is sound. He's double checked his math and everything. Yes, he has equations for this sort of thing. No, they're not scientifically or empirically accurate, but just because one has arbitrarily assigned numeric values to various events, decisions and possible outcomes in order to justify to oneself that one's intended course of action is Endorsed By Data and Scientifically Derived Conclusions, like....that doesn't mean those values are all arbitrary and the conclusions and data that derive from them are fictitious and meaningless.

Shhh, shhh, don't question that last sentence, just nod and smile and accept that you're just not quite brilliant enough to understand the genius that is Brucenometry, and that's totally understandable and the real reason Bruce hasn't shared the math system he invented with the rest of the world. We just wouldn't get it, you see?

(And yes, he absolutely calls it Brucenometry in his head, because despite what the Batmen of other universes would have us believe, all the eight year old incarnations of Dick Grayson are naught but a scapegoat for the emotionally stunted manchild who absolutely devised the labeling system of 'what if I put Bat in front of every word tho and that's how you knew it was mine, yes, good, this is obviously the most logical and efficient taxonomy possible, its practically the Occam's Bat-Razor of nomenclatures, huzzah I am the smartest in all the land, eat my Batshit I mean guano I mean crazy I mean shut up no you're dumb.' And if you don't think Bruce sounds like that in his head you're just drinking the Kool-Aid, dear reader. Pick up any issue where Bruce is having an emotional fight with someone and skip to where he insists on having the last word before sweeping dramatically into the darkness, and substitute that last word with 'nuh uh, your face'. It reads practically the same, I swear.

Anyway, thus Brucenometry is only Brucenometry instead of Batnometry because he came up with the math first. The math is literally how he calculated that combining crime fighting with his fursona was by far the most expedient route for building a better, brighter Gotham? Duh? Like if you don't get it, he really can't explain it any more clearly than that, and this is possibly one of the reasons he doesn't let the Martian Manhunter in his head. Well, that and all the equally Scientific Ponderings on how accurate a label 'Buns of Steel' is for Superman's butt, and how might this best be tested. Y'know. For Science.)

It's possible I've gotten off track here. I blame Bruce. Bruce blames Clark's ass. Its this whole thing.

Ahem.

So Bruce decides Zatanna has all the answers to all his questions, clearly. Because you see, Bruce knows practically everything that's worth knowing, so anyone who knows something Bruce doesn't already know, ergo, ipso facto, must therefor in conclusion be smarter than Bruce. And if they're smarter than Bruce, as smart as Bruce already is and knowing as much as Bruce already knows, well then, they must know literally everything.

Bam. You've just been Bat Logic-ed.

Bruce sends a message. He waits. He's expecting something along the lines of a call back, but one minute he blinks and the next minute Zatanna's in the middle of the disaster his new brood of three have made of his living room, hands on her hips, shaking her head as she looks around.

“What did you do?” She asks, exasperatedly.

He really doesn't understand why so many people take that particular tone with him. All of his choices are excellent and backed by Brucenometry. He can show his work and everything.

Bruce would respond, but he’s distracted by the three unknown variables. He admittedly had not expected her to bring all three of her boys along with her. Then again, they're magicians and magic always messes up his calculations. Its the worst. Stupid magic. He keeps himself from glaring at the teenager, practically still a teenager, and fully grown man chugging down a Pixie stick while playing what sounds like Candy Crush on his phone with his free hand.

Zee just shakes her head at him when Bruce tries to turn her question back on her with a pointed look.

“They were with me when I got your message and they wanted to come. Given how non-informative and vague the information you gave me was, it seemed plausible they might have a helpful perspective. Don’t change the subject. What did you do.”

“In all fairness, I should clarify that we were mostly just bored,” Tim says dryly.

“Also, this sounded amazing,” Jason adds, smirking.

Dick bounces up and down. “I’m very excited to be here for this! By the way, what is this, what's happening, what's going on? I was not totally paying complete attention, maybe. Oooh, does this place have an indoor pool? I bet it has an indoor pool. God, I love how completely unnecessary old rich people houses are, its amazing.”

That’s when a ten year old mini-Bruce wanders in, parentage apparent in every premature scowl line on his face. “Father, who are these people?”

Dick emits a gleeful sound that lends credence to his spirit friends’ theory he’s not entirely human and just appears right next to Damian, sweeping him up into a hug. His brothers blink, unsure if he had a teleport spell they didn’t know about, or if his natural ability to seek out anyone in need of a hug like a heat-seeking missile could actually allow him to move faster than the eye can see. Could go either way, to be honest.

“Oh my god, he’s like a tiny baby bat, he’s adorable,” Dick says, words rushing out at a speed normally achievable only by speedsters.

Damian has frozen at the unexpectedness of his behavior, but the outrage swiftly sets in. “What did you just call me?”

“A tiny baby bat!”

“Not that, the other thing.”

“Adorable!”

“How dare you!” The ten year old produces a knife from somewhere and attempts a stabbing that results in said knife being transmuted into a Twizzler. Dick twists in that unnatural way only his body is capable of and somehow mid-hug still manages to eat the Twizzler, because why not, apparently.

“I’m keeping him,” Dick declares, right on schedule. "He is my new brother and also now my weekend favorite, sorry not sorry. Jason is now my Monday and Friday favorite and Timmy is my Tuesday and Thursday favorite. Wednesdays can be my me time."

"But Dick," Tim deadpans in a lifeless monotone, now absorbed in doing something with his own phone. "How can I not be your Wednesday favorite? On Wednesdays we wear pink."

Jason rocks back on his heels, rolls his head back on his neck and stares up at the room's high, vaulted ceiling despairingly. "I hate that I get that reference. I hate that so much. I just don't know if I hate Tim for saying it, Dick for being the reason he said it, or me for hearing it and getting it. Quick, somebody tell me who to punch, I can't make this decision, its too hard."

Zatanna pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales. Cass and Steph lurk in the doorway and stare at the scene, bemused. Bruce is statue still. It’s possible his complete inability to process anything that’s happening right now has computer-crashed his every system. See kids, this is what comes of spending too much time trying to emulate a robot. Don't do drugs. Stay in school. Emote.

“Dick, I know that worked out for you the last two times you tried that, but its not going to fly here. This child actually has an emotionally invested parent capable of providing for him, and I don’t believe the Batman is likely to relinquish his claim without a fight,” Zatanna says, her exasperation now redirected at her eldest.

Dick remains unphased; merely diverts his attention from Damian to the boy’s father, raking his eyes up and down Bruce as the older man reenacts the pose of Rodin's lesser known work: The Oh God, What Was I Thinking.

He sniffs. Once. Pointedly unimpressed. “I am willing to work out a shared custody agreement,” Dick says regally.

Bruce gradually twitches his way back into the realm of actual human activity and motion.

“What?” He shakes himself all over, a bit like a dog. Then he seems to reboot his higher cognitive functions as he draws up to his full height and towers over the younger man. “I’m not sure what you think you’re playing at here, but this is not why I called your mother and I do not need some boy barely out of his teens to tell me -"

Dick cuts him off, rolling his eyes even as Bruce, Steph, Cass and Alfred’s eyes all widen at the sheer novelty of that. Even Damian goes silent and still, no longer fighting Dick’s octopus like limbs as he’s too busy flicking his attention back and forth between Dick and Bruce like he’s a spectator at a tennis match, watching it unfold.

Jason and Tim just smirk knowingly. Zatanna regrets everything.

“Yes, yes, we’re aware the Batman has a million contingency plans for any given scenario. We’re all very impressed. Your IQ is huge,” Dick says flatly. “Quick question though, how many of those contingency plans involve hugging?”

Bruce blinks. “What?”

“That’s what I thought,” Dick continues smugly. “Now, in your history as a crime fighter and a benefactor of numerous children’s charities, do you dispute that all children at certain times need to be hugged?”

“No?” Bruce answers uncertainly. He…has no precedence for this. What is happening right now.

“Mmm,” Dick hums, nodding. “And in your personal self-assessment and in light of all your established behavior to date, would you say with confidence that you are capable of always recognizing when a child is in need of a hug, as well as being able and willing to provide that child with said hug yourself?”

Bruce frowns. Everyone in the room takes that as a no. Seals in Antarctica look up and take that as a no, without any idea why they just did that or what it even is they just did. Also, what the hell is a no, they have no clue. They still somehow know the answer to that question was no.

“Exactly,” Dick says. “So, to sum up, we’ve established that your children need hugs, you need to be taught when and how to identify when your children need you to hug them, and until such a time as you’re capable of that, your children still need hugs. In conclusion, my services are direly needed and I am willing to teach you everything I know about providing adorable children with emotional support in exchange for the role of their designated Hug-Giver for the time being. Do you accept my offer?”

“I…” Still stuck on the unprecedented feeling of being at a total loss for words, Bruce is slow to answer. Not that it matters.

“Trick question!” Dick announces cheerfully. “There was no offer, its already been decided. I can start immediately. You're welcome.”

He shifts Damian to his hip with one arm and raises the other to offer the boy his hand for a shake. “Hi Damian, I’m Dick, I’m your official Hug-Giver for now. Nice to meet you!”

Damian shakes Dick’s hand, more out of confusion than anything else. Clearly, nothing in his training or experience offers him any obvious alternate response to Dick’s behavior. “Father, who is this man? What is happening? I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us,” the goddamn Batman says helplessly. They can all see his face spasming, his muscles twitching as if periodically glitching while he tries to compute and come up with a course of action that adequately counters Dick’s….whatever the hell you describe Dick and his entire….essence, as.

Gods have tried and failed to accurately describe Dick and his whole….Dick-ness. The Batman never stood a chance.

Tim takes pity on him. He’s mostly preoccupied hacking the Manor’s wi-fi on his phone, trying to see if he can backdoor from there into the famed Batcave’s computers. No real reason, he’s just curious. But even barely paying attention, he can still tell the difference between Dick’s more generic ‘oooh a squirrel!’ ADHD reaction to all adorable children or animals in his general vicinity, and the genuine emotional attachment his brother has clearly already formed with the confused child assassin. It’s too late now. Whether he’s even realized it or not, Damian stopped trying to escape Dick’s hug practically from the word go, even if he is unconsciously using his confusion to blind himself to how he’s already started to sink into it. Not even Superman himself could pry the kid out of Dick’s arms at this point.

“You can try all you want to come up with ways to keep this from happening, but you’ll just be wasting your time and energy,” Tim advises, still intent on his phone. Two passwords down, nice. Only….ninety more to go? Jeez. Oh god, if he’s this redundant about his cyber security, he’s gonna try and be stubborn about this, isn’t he? Ugh, how inefficient.

“Look, no matter how many plans you come up with, it doesn’t matter what you throw at him or how convoluted or well-crafted it is. At a certain point Dick’s just going to say screw it and dig his heels in, and no offense, but I’ve seen him out-stubborn demons. He once got a Duke of Hell to release a claim on Jason’s soul by committing to “I know you are but what am I” until the ageless being composed of pettiness and spite got frustrated and gave up. My brother on a mission to dole out affection is an actual force of nature. Like hurricanes. Even Jason lets Dick hug him. And Jason hates everything.”

“Die screaming,” Jason says conversationally.

“See a therapist about your Cain complex,” Tim returns, equally pleasant.

“I thought I told you boys to be on your best behavior,” Zatanna says. Either exasperated again, or just still. Hard to say.

Jason cocks an eyebrow at her quizzically before looking around the room. “Umm, we are, aren’t we? I mean, we’ve been here for at least five minutes and nothing’s on fire or broken yet. You gotta admit that’s like, a record for us.”

Zatanna sputters helplessly for a moment before collapsing onto the couch with a sigh. “The bar is too low,” she mutters. "And don't think I didn't catch that bit about a Duke of Hell having a claim on Jason's soul at some point. We will be circling back to that later, at home."

"Dude," Jason hisses, glaring at his little brother. "Spoilers!"

"Sorry," Tim says distractedly, with a distinct lack of sincerity. "In my defense, we lie about a lot of stuff and I forget to keep track of it all."

"You have an eidetic memory."

"Okay, so I forget to care about keeping track of it all," Tim amends, shrugging.

"That's just because you never get in as much trouble as me and Dick. Helps to be the baby of the family," Jason grumbles.

Tim hums softly in agreement, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he peers intently at his screen. "The perks are nice."

Zatanna interjects as she eyes her two younger sons, a slight edge in voice. "Exactly how much stuff am I being lied to about? Ballpark figure."

Jason glares at Tim again. "You're a goddamn menace."

"I should probably be stopped," Tim agrees.

“Nonsense!” Damian’s aggrieved voice cuts over everyone else in the room. “I am an al Ghul, and heir to the Batman. If this tournament you speak of were truly a contest of champions, I would certainly have heard of it before now.”

Dick returns his glower with his usual beaming grin. “I swear by every being of both the higher and lower planes to ever lend me power or aid. Super Mario Kart is a test of manual dexterity, hand-eye coordination and reflex agility. Any true warrior should be more than capable of defeating all competitors at it.”

Damian stays trained on his face for a good minute, searching it for any hint of deception. Finally he turns and sweeps his imperious gaze around the room, jumping back and forth between his father to Jason and Tim, though the latter is still absorbed tracking to crack the thirty-sixth password to the Batcomputer. “Is this true?”

“Technically yes,” Jason says with the smirk to end all smirks. Sometimes his older brother is a total toolbag, but sometimes it really is like watching a master at work. How to Lie Without Telling a Single Lie by Dick Grayson-Zatara.

Damian harrumphs like the eighty seven year old that he is at heart, but with a secondary affirmation and no one speaking up to offer a counter-claim, his pride seems to allow him no alternative to accepting Dick’s challenge.

“Very well,” he says grudgingly. “I will engage you in this competition of supers and carts. But when I inevitably prove victorious, as consequence for your failure you and your babbling are to be banished from my father’s estate, never to return.”

“K!” Dick grins. “But if I win, you have to initiate three hugs a day for a solid week straight, at which point you may challenge me to a rematch and reclaim your honor.”

“Preposterous! One hug a day. No more.”

“One hug a day, but after two weeks I can challenge you to a rematch at my home instead.”

“I shudder to think what you might consider an acceptable abode. No, if I must vanquish you twice before you realize the folly of challenging an al Ghul, you shall return here only for the purposes of engaging in this ‘rematch’, and only after two months have passed, so that you may reflect on the futility of such.”

“One month, final offer.”

“Tt. Your terms are acceptable,” Damian decides at last. Dick’s already brilliant smile grows impossibly more blinding, as it is wont to do. The whole defiance of physics thing he does so well. Unprepared for it, the startled boy blinks, corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly upwards before he regains his normal stern countenance. “Now lead me to these carts at once. I wish to see you defeated before supper, so I do not have to suffer your presence through my meal.”

“You got it, lil D!” Dick chirps happily, bouncing through the doorway and down the hall, where Cass and Steph exchange glances that condense an entire conversation to thirty seconds of back and forth facial expressions. They then race down the hall after the two. Damian’s outrage drifts back behind them.

“My name is Damian al Ghul-Wayne, you buffoon! It is a name of power and significance, heavy with meaning and intent. How dare you reduce it to a simple reference to physical stature!”

“Aww, I’m sorry bud! It was meant as an endearment not an insult. I give nicknames to all my friends and family. What if I called you Dami? Is that better?”

“….I suppose if my full name is too difficult for you to manage, Dami is at least marginally more tolerable. But only if it is understood that we are hardly friends!”

“Whatever you say, Dami!”

Their voices fade into the distance after that. Jason puts his hands in his pockets and strolls casually after them.

“That was amazing. My faith in humanity has like....risen reborn from the ashes. I might even believe in Santa Claus again? Not sure yet about that last part," he muses to no one in particular. "I’m so happy right now.”

Tim shrugs and trails after him. If everyone else is going, well. No reason he can’t finish hacking the Batcomputer from wherever they end up.

Bruce watches them disappear down the hallway before staggering over to the couch and dropping down onto it next to Zatanna. He stares blankly at the wall.

“What.” He utters helplessly.

Zatanna pats his leg. “You get used to it. Eventually.”

And that’s how even when Dick’s adopted by Zatanna Zatara instead of Bruce Wayne, he, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass, Steph and those to follow all still end up siblings in every way that matters.

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real-pcy-exo · 5 years

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Baekhyun x reader (superpower au, fluff)

A/N: Never wrote a superpower au before. Hope you guys enjoy it!! (´(エ)｀)

Almost all the other kids from your class had already left with their parents but yours were late just like usual. The elementary school was not that big but had a pond in the back. Usually students were prohibited from going there but jokes on them, you still struggled to read so you ignored the signs. Going near the pond you took a rock in your hand and crushed it turning it into butterflies. It was something you discovered that you can do few weeks ago. But none of your friends could do it so you thought if you told anyone, they might think you're a weirdo. You didn't want your parents to be disappointed in you for being weird so you told no one about this. Since you could basically crush anything into butterflies, rocks were your favorite. Because the rocks in front of the ponds were so ugly but turned so beautiful when they became butterflies.

You didn't realize that a kid found you going towards the pond and followed you there. "Woah!" A kid exclaimed behind you making you look back to find the most mischievous boy in your class, Baekhyun. "Do it again! Do it again!" He kept requesting while you tried to shush him. "Don't yell please." you said, "Teachers will find us here."

"But Baekie wants to see more butterflies."

"Do you like butterflies Baekie?"

"No, I don't. They are also insects, my mom told me so. Insects are scary." You looked at him confused, "Then why do you want me to make more butterflies?"

"Because you look really pretty while making them."

"But you don't like them."

"But I like you!" You blushed, "Yah punk! You better not tell anyone about this."

"I won't if you won't tell anyone about my secret."

"Stupid Baekie, you didn't tell me your secret." He chuckled before coming closer to take your hand and lead to a classroom. He made you stand in the middle of the classroom and stood in front of you. "Look at my hands!" He wiggled his fingers in front of your face then held your hand. "Yell 'come' when you want me to turn on the lights and 'go' when you want me to turn them off."

"Silly Baekie, you're standing here with me. How can you turn the lights on or off?"

"With my superpower! Try it, go ahead."

"Come!" To your surprise, the lights flickered on by it self. "Go away!" And the lights turned off again. "Are you really doing this Baekie?" You asked the boy. He had his eyes closed with determination written all over his face and a small pout in his lips. He opened his eyes and looked at you, "Yes! Don't judge my ability. I can control light with my mind like a magician."

"He can!" You jumped at another voice coming from behind you. Chanyeol, Baekhyun's best friend who could also be considered a brother from another mother for Baekhyun. "Don't worry, Yollie knows my secret. He is a dragon that's why!" Baekhyun had exclaimed with a loud voice only to be shushed by you. "Chanyeol, what does Baekie mean by a dragon?" The said boy came forward and stood beside Baekhyun with a shy smile. "I can control fire." He said in a tiny voice, "But mom always said fires are dangerous so I don't do this often." He put his hand in front of you and slowly a fire started to appear out of nowhere. "Yah yah yah Yollie you're being really cool but don't impress her more than me. I like her!" Chanyeol just smiled taking back his hand after making the fire disappear, "Don't worry Baekie. I only want to be her friend." You took Chanyeol's hand with your free hand, "We can become superheros when we grow up! The three of us!" You were smiling and jumping while Baekhyun was explaining Chanyeol that you were special just like them.

"Everybody freeze!" Few men in black cloths and masks came in a bank with heavy guns. Screams and cries for help erupted through the small building and panic started to spread. Few moments later those men were able to push everyone down on the floor and begin looting the bank. Suddenly a window was crushed and butterflies were flying everywhere distracting everyone from what they were doing. "Prepare for trouble!" A young boy screamed while jumping into the building followed by another young boy screaming, "And make it double!"

"Guys no! Act natural! NATURAL!" A girl kept saying while following them inside. They looked like three highschool students in some cheap Halloween costume. "Do you kids have death wish?" one of the armed man asked them annoyed watching three kids dressed up in red, blue and green similar to the powerpuff girls costume. "We're not kids!" The shorter boy in red replied, "See X right here who is really beautiful and also my girlfriend so hands off, has a full proof back story of us that should be adapted by Netflix." The taller boy made a face at that, "Dude no. They'll add unnecessary stuffs and 18+ things. Unlike us who like to keep things PG."

"Maybe because we're still underage?" The girl sassily replied with her hand resting on her hips. One of the armed man came forth and started shooting on the roof, "Yo slut, get your boyfriends to shut up!" That triggered something within the two boys. The shorter one had a murderous face that could have been seen even through the mask. "Did you just call my girlfriend" he slowly stepped forward while speaking, "A slut?" The taller boy rested his hand on the said boy, "B, let's not get violent. You don't play fire with fire. Then nothing will be left but ashes." Meanwhile the girl crept away and hid behind a counter. "Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light! Surrender now, or prepare to fight!" She yelled out. The boy in red grinned and waited for few seconds to see if anyone surrendered before the inside of the building turned pitch black. The only thing that was visible was the taller boy in blue with fire in his hand. He kept waving his hands around as if he was doing something big. On the other hand, the girl put night-goggles on and started working. She went in front of every armed man and put slight pressure on their weapon turning them into butterflies. In pitch black seeing a guy with flames doing fancy stunts while they're weapons were disappearing and they couldn't see what was flying around scared them. The armed men soon became weapon less and the three teenagers left the scene sneakily not to get caught by any police and left the men for the authorities to handle. While leaving, the boy in red looked back and yelled, "The day is saved, thanks to the powerpuff girls!"

"B, no!" The other two had screamed in disappointment.

The scenery of sunsets were always really beautiful. Specially when you had people you cared about around you. On your left side, your boyfriend was munching down his sandwich with such enthusiasm as if it was his last meal. He had his mask off, making him really seem like just another teenage boy cosplaying. On your right, your best friend who was your boyfriend's best friend at first but kinda became both of your brother of some sort. He was looking ahead of him lost in his thought. "Yollie, why does Baekie always call me X while being on a mission?" Baekhyun still giving all of his attention to the sandwich in his hand left you two to talk. Chanyeol thought for few seconds before looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "See Baekhyun being Blossom, he is sweet and spice. He can be serious yet playful at the same time. I'm Bubbles, I'm everything that is nice. That's where you come in. The chemical X that has the power, the sole thing that made us special. Together, we're the powerpuff girls!" Chanyeol bumped his fist in the air at the end. Finally finishing the sandwich, Baekhyun joined the conversation, "Also because the k-pop band CBX. We have C and B but we needed the X. So you're the X." You sighed at tactics of the boys. "First we're team rocket, then the powerpuff girls and now a Korean boyband? What's next?" Baekhyun hummed, "Don't know yet. We'll swing it." Chanyeol laughed at that, "Did you know Baekie over here cried watching that Swing Kids movie?" Baekhyun gasped dramatically, "Why are you making me look like a crybaby in front of my girlfriend?"

"Because she already knows you're a crybaby Baekhyunnie." Chanyeol mocked back.

Chanyeol had to leave early because of an algebra exam the next day. Baekhyun being a self proclaimed gentleman decided to walk you home. "Hyunnie, do you think I love you?"

"Well young lady, let Dr. Byun ask you some questions." You giggled out a small "Okay."

"Does your heart beat fast when you're with me?"

"So fast it feels as if I'm in a race!"

"Do you feel jealous when other people hog up my attention?"

"A teeny tiny little bit of a green monster called jealousy does accompany me within me at those times."

"Do you like spending time with me?"

"Now that is debatable."

"Yah! What do you mean?"

"Just kidding! I love spending time with you."

"Well then I have to diagnose you with the ol' disease 'in love with Baekie' then." You scrunched your nose, "Oh no doctor! Is there any cure for this?"

"I'm afraid no. You're in for a lifetime." You laughed along him, "I wouldn't have it any other way my dear Baekie." Baekhyun suddenly let go of your hand and held his jaw while groaning as if he was in pain, "Ugh my teeth!" You got worried and became frantic because he was okay even moments ago. "What happened?" You asked him, "Do we need to go to the dentist right now? Talk to me!"

"No no. My teeth hurt because of cavity caused by my girlfriend's sweetness." You punched his shoulders weakly, "Yah punk! Don't scare me like that. Ever!" Baekhyun just smiled and hugged you knowing you secretly liked his antics. Whole holding your hand, he walked you back to your home. You kept complaining about classes, exams etc. Nothing out of ordinary as if you both were not a part of a superhero team with the town's safety in your shoulders. Right then and there, you both were just two young kids madly in love with each other. But just like you, Baekhyun wouldn't have it any other way.

#baekhyun drabble #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x you #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun oneshot #exo fluff #exo fanfiction #exo drabble #exo #exo oneshot #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #exo boyfriend #exo bbh #exo byun baekhyun #exo baekhyun #exo blurb #bbh-net

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swanqueeneverafter · 5 years

Text

What Dreams May Come, Pt.26

Enchanted Forest. Past. (At a village fete, Snow White approaches a wealthy looking man.) Snow White: "Sir. Sir? Can I interest you in a piece of jewelry?" Wealthy Man: (Inspecting the brooch:) “You don't look like a peddler.” Snow White: “I'm not. There was an emergency and I've been forced to sell. That would make a lovely gift for your wife.” Wealthy Man: “I'll give you three coppers.” Snow White: “Sir, I'm sure you realize it is worth a hundred times that. That is a family heirloom.” Wealthy Man: “I only know of one family with heirlooms that valuable. What is your name?” Snow White: (Hesitates:) “Three coppers would be fine, just fine. (Accepting the coins:) Thank you.” (Snow turns and hurries away.) Henry's Dreamscape. Kingdom Of Valencia. (Madelena supervises the servants as they make preparations for Gareth’s surprise party.) Queen Madelena: “As you all know, this is the first birthday party I've thrown for Gareth since he became king. If you ruin the surprise, I'll cut your tongue out with a dull knife. Thanks for your hard work, and I cherish you one and all.” Page: “He's coming!” Queen Madelena: “Oh! Places, everyone!” (Giggles excitedly as everyone hides. Gareth enters the room and everyone jumps out.) All: “Surprise!” (Immediately, Gareth draws his sword and attacks, stabbing three men in quick succession.) Queen Madelena: (Running over to him:) “Gareth! Wait! It's a birthday party for you, you kook.” (Chuckles.) Gareth: “Oh.” (Sheathes his sword as the three men fall to the floor, dead.) Queen Madelena: “Come take a look at your gifts. I think you're going to love them.” Gareth: (Picking something up from the table:) “This is a bit fancy.” Queen Madelena: “It's a crystal nut bowl.” Gareth: “Yeah. It'll never fit.” Queen Madelena: “No, for dinner parties.” Gareth: “Mm.” Queen Madelena: (Winces:) “You don't like it?” Gareth: “It's not that. It's just that, all this hoity-toity king stuff... (Sighs:) It's just not me.” Queen Madelena: “Oh. (Chuckles:) Okay. So, what is you, Gareth? I mean, if you could get anything for your birthday, what would it be?” Gareth: “A scar. Every year, on my birthday, we used to go down the pub and get in a good old scrap. When I was 9 years old, I went to the pub and got this one. (Shows her a scar:) Greatest gift a kid could ever want. (Shows Madelena another scar:) This one, I was 14. I left a man bleeding to death in the sawdust. He wanted me to finish him off, but I wouldn't.” (They both laugh.) Queen Madelena: “That's what we're going to do. I'm taking you to the sleaziest tavern in Valencia... (Drawing her finger down his face:) To get you a new birthday scar.”

The Land Without Magic. New York. The Stonewall Inn. (Walking in together, Regina and Emma see Facilier standing behind the bar.) Facilier: "I asked the owner to step out, so we could talk privately." Emma: "Enough games, what do you want?" Facilier: (Chuckles:) "Au contraire. (Pulling out a deck of cards from his pocket:) The real games are about to begin." (Shuffles the cards.) Regina: "I've done my research on you, Facilier. The consensus from those I spoke to was that you were barely more than a lowly witch doctor when you were alive. The ability to return from the dead far beyond your capabilities." Emma: "The Darkness was destroyed along with all previous Dark Ones, so it's definitely not them helping you this time." Regina: "Even if it were, that would require magic-" Facilier: (Finishing her thought:) "And since, as you said, we're in a land without magic, that's not possible." Emma: "So just who the hell are you?" Facilier: (Chuckles:) "I must say, I do so love the fire in your eyes. Such a shame it was missing during our time together under the Black Fairy's curse. (To Regina:) I suppose she told you what happened between us wasn't out of mutual consent?" Emma: (Shaking with rage:) "She knows what you did to me you sick son of a bitch!" (Facilier moves out of the way as Regina attempts to punch him, even though the distance between them given the bar and her pregnant stomach would’ve made reaching him impossible.) Facilier: (Laughing:) "Such hostility. (To Emma:) Couldn’t find the courage to take a swing at me yourself? Interesting. (Chuckles at Emma’s fraught expression:) This won't do at all, not for my purposes. All right, I have a confession to make. I am not Dr. Facilier. I have merely appeared to you in this form to ensure I had your full attention. My name, is Lord Morpheus." Regina: "Morpheus? As in-" Morpheus: "The God of Dreams, yes." Regina: (At Emma's look:) "Legend says that Morpheus rules over the Dream World much like Hades ruled over the Under World." Morpheus: "Until your sister killed him, of course." Emma: (Slowly regaining her confidence, with the knowledge that Facilier is not actually standing across from her:) "So is that what this is? A member of our family kills yours and so you come down from Olympus to get your revenge?" Morpheus: "Revenge? (Smiles:) No, no, no. That's far too small minded. Hades' demise created an opportunity for me to really show the world what I could do. Then of course, you two went and united the realms of story, and I knew exactly what to do. Your new world needs a ruler and who better for the job than I, Lord Morpheus?” Regina: (Unimpressed:) “What is it with gods and overplaying their hand?” Emma: "So you've been invading our dreams, our nightmares, to what, get our attention?" Morpheus: (Chuckling:) "I had to establish a link between your world and mine. You see, currently, despite my immortality, my powers can only reach so far. So I used what was available to me, and I entered the dreams of an innocuous, would-be magician." Regina & Emma: "Xanax." Morpheus: "The very same. I gave him the inspiration and knowledge he needed to become a weaver of dreams. To allow people from your world to access and control what happened to them in their dreams. In my world." Regina: "So with your stooge in place, you targeted Henry to get to us?" Morpheus: "Is it my fault that your son yearns for more from his life? That he feels constantly overshadowed by his parents and grandparents? I gave your son the chance to live out his dreams. I created a world in which he could truly be the hero. Then, all I needed was for Henry to share his discovery with you both. Of course, Henry required a little push to see that sharing his secret world would indeed be caring." Regina: (Realising what he means:) "The sleepless nights, the labour pains. That was all you?" Morpheus: (Nods:) "A necessary evil, I’m afraid. By the time I started interfering with your sleep patterns, your son had already spent many countless hours exploring the dreamscape I had created for him." Emma: "All right, so you orchestrated all of this just so we would enter 'your world'. Why not come to us as soon as we stepped through Xanax's door?" Morpheus: (Smiles broadly:) "Because, at the very moment you entered my world, I was driving into yours." (Regina and Emma look to each other, incredulous.) Regina: "You were Greg Mendell?" Morpheus: (Laughing:) "I was Greg Mendell.” Emma: "But why?" Morpheus: "Your magic was the key to my plans. Each time you entered my world together, my connection to your world grew stronger. I knew that if I could just get you to use your powers on me in your world, I could harness that energy to forge a permanent link between my world and yours. That's why I came to town disguised as Greg Mendell. I thought for sure you would use your powers to save Greg’s life. Shame on the both of you for that. But no matter, if you wouldn’t use your powers to save me, I could get you to use them to attack me. (To Regina:) Surely the Evil Queen would do anything to hide her most darkest of deeds from her wife? If not, I was certain that the Savior would protect the woman she loves at any cost. Of course, Rumplestiltskin's interference derailed my original plan briefly and I had to adapt, to become someone else. Someone trusted by you and your extended family.” Regina: (In realisation:) “Robin Hood.” Morpheus: (Chuckles, to Emma:) “I was sure you were going to use your magic to stop me when I had that arrow aimed at your unborn child. But then Zelena spared you the effort, and I had to revert to my original plan.” Emma: “Yeah, well if you hadn’t driven away like a coward, you might have gotten your wish.” Morpheus: “I saw the gun in your hand, Emma. Magic was the last thing on your mind. Despite all my planning, Greg Mendell had become a lost cause, but thankfully I had one last ace up my sleeve. When that drunken fool, Dr. Whale, travelled through his own dreamscape trying to right the wrongs of his past, inspiration struck again. Then so did I. (To Regina:) I knew your love for Daniel would get the job done.” Regina: “You pretended to be Daniel and tore Whale’s arm off?” Morpheus: (Nods:) “He had it coming. Man cannot overcome death. It is we gods who decide who lives and who dies, not you mortals. I’ll admit, at the stables, I thought for sure Emma would be the one to put Daniel down. I never believed for a moment it’d be his lost love. But no matter, my trap worked.” Regina: “So it’s my magic that’s keeping you here?” Morpheus: “For the time being, yes. Even magic as powerful as yours can’t keep me here indefinitely. Which brings me to my proposal. (He flips over a card:) Fight me in the dream world, winner take all." Regina: (Scoffs:) "Why on earth would we do that? All we need to do is sever your link to this world, put Xanax out of business and you'll never be able to bother anyone again." Morpheus: "You couldn't be more wrong. I can still haunt your dreams, and if you refuse to my terms, I guarantee you will never see your son again. (At their expressions:) Oh, did you think the connection between our worlds was one way? I have Henry in my possession where he will remain forever, unless you accept my challenge." Emma: "You have nothing. We'll just go to Xanax's and wake him up." Morpheus: "Believe what you want. You won't find Henry there, he’s in my world now."

Regina: “If you hurt my son I will crush you.” Morpheus: (Laughs:) “I don’t need to hurt your son at all. I can simply leave him to live out his dreamscape forever. Over time, his memories of his old life will simply fade away, replaced by the ones he makes for himself living as the hero he was always meant to be.” Regina: “No matter how good your dreamscape is, it won’t be real. When I cast the Dark Curse, I thought I had finally won, but I soon discovered it was a hollow victory. Henry may get everything he ever wanted in your world, but without his family and friends to share it with, Henry will come looking for us.” Morpheus: (Chuckles:) “You mortals and your unyielding faith in family. The fact remains, if you want to see him again, you must accept my challenge.” Emma: “Yeah, about that. If we accept, what’s to stop you trapping us there the moment we enter the dream world?” Morpheus: (Sighs:) “My family. Zeus to be exact. It seems that even though he rules the heavens and the earth, the thought of me ruling the united realms concerns him. So, I have to play by his rules, which means I cannot directly interfere in the battle.” Regina: “Battle?” Morpheus: “Yes. Our armies will do battle in Henry’s dreamscape.” Emma: “We don’t have an army.” Morpheus: “Tut tut. No army? This is a prime example as to why I should be your ruler. For the time being however, I’m sure the Queen and her Savior can convince their neighbours to join you in battle. After all, this does effect each of them too.” Regina: “Say we raise an army and defeat you, we’re just supposed to believe you’re just going to let us go in peace?” Morpheus: (Smirks:) “That would be a tad anticlimactic, wouldn’t it? (Turns over another card:) Should you defeat my army, you must next challenge my Empress. A powerful sorceress who would no doubt rival even your combined magic.” Emma: “Would? Is there a doubt in your mind that we wouldn’t take her on?” Morpheus: “Quite a considerable doubt actually. (Turns over his final card:) For you see, if I’m not allowed to interfere, then neither are you.” Regina: “Just try and stop us.” Morpheus: “Oh I intend to do just that. You may lead your army to Henry’s dreamscape, but I can’t allow either of you to enter.” Emma: “If you think we’re staying behind when our son is in danger you’re insane.” Morpheus: “I had hoped as much. You see, if you do choose to enter my world once again, I have something much more fun planned for you both. For you, Regina, I will leave your fate a surprise, but for you, Emma, I shall send you back under the Black Fairy’s curse, trapped inside your darkest nightmares.” (Emma and Regina shared troubled looks.) Regina: “Then I don’t see what choice we have... but to stop you.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Snow White rips a wanted poster from a tree and starts tearing it up.) Blue Fairy: (Floating beside her:) "You only got three coppers?” Snow White: “He was onto me. If I'd done anything else, he would've turned me over to the queen.” Blue Fairy: “How do you know he won't anyway?” Snow White: “Oh, I know his type... corrupt and greedy. He's just happy to have gotten something of value for next to nothing. He won't tip anyone off.” Blue Fairy: “I think you might be wrong about that. Run! (Snow turns to see a masked man hurl an axe at her, which she barely avoids. The man runs toward her with a second axe raised and misses her again, embedding the axe into a tree. Blue does her best to distract him, while Snow hurls the first axe, hitting the man in the arm. Transforming into human form, the Blue Fairy grabs the axe from the floor and stands with Snow to chase the man away.) Who was he?” Snow White: “Must be the Woodcutter... bounty hunter who usually specializes in hunting down werewolves. That nobleman must have tipped him off about the price on my head. Blue, I can't stay here. I have to go. I'm a princess, a princess without a kingdom! The forest is no place for me. I have sold everything my parents gave me, and I have just enough to book passage on a boat out of here, out of her reach. Maybe the head of some allied nation will take me in.” Blue Fairy: “Wait, wait! You're going right now?” Snow White: “There's nothing holding me here. I'm headed to the nearest port town. I hear there's one not far from here. Longbourn.”

The Land Without Magic. New York. Present. (Standing with their bags outside the hotel, Emma and Regina listen over the phone as David arrives outside Xanax's laboratory.) Emma: "Yeah, we're coming home right now. We don't know if Xanax is in on this or not but we need you to check his place from top to bottom and find Henry." Regina: "And if he's not there, you drag that charlatan back to Storybrooke and throw him in a cell." David: "I'm on it." (David hangs up the phone and, not bothering to knock, breaks through the front door.) Xanax's Laboratory. Enchanted Forest. David: (Climbing the stairs:) "Henry?! Henry!" Xanax: (As David enters:) "Woah, woah, woah! He's not here." David: "Where is he?" Xanax: "I don't know, he was here one minute then... he just vanished." David: "People don't just disappear. Where did he go?" Xanax: (Shaking his head:) "All I know is that Henry was here, then that attractive fellow came in and insisted he enter Henry's dreamscape and they were both laid here before me. Next thing I knew, they were gone." David: "Someone else entered Henry's dreamscape? Who?" Xanax: "Bearded guy, leather..." Toad: "Ribbit." Xanax: "Oh yeah, he had a hook for a hand. Can’t remember his name."

David: "Hook?" Xanax: (Clicks his fingers:) "That's the one." David: "Why would Hook want to enter Henry's dreams?" Xanax: "No idea. But wherever they are now, can't be good." Underworld. Present. (Bloodied and bruised, Hook finds himself bound and chained to the ceiling when he hears footsteps approaching. Glancing over, he sees Hades walk into view.) Hook: "How is this possible, I heard you were dead?" Morpheus/Hades: (Chuckles:) "You heard correctly. So sorry to keep you… hanging around. I had an important meeting to attend." Hook: "Who are you?" Morpheus/Hades: "I, am Lord Morpheus, God of Dreams." Hook: (Slightly relieved:) "So this is a dream. I'm still alive." Morpheus/Hades: "Yes and no. While you may not be dead, you are no longer dreaming. Directly beneath you is the River of Lost Souls. Touch it, and it will make you lost. Reducing you to a mindless, tormented husk. Do I have your full attention now?” Hook: “Why the bloody hell am I here?” Morpheus/Hades: “Oh, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you, Captain. Back when Hades was alive, he and I had an arrangement where it was possible for the dead to invade the dreams of the guilty. Confined as each of us were to our own worlds, we cherished these brief glimpses of the world beyond our reach. See, when you’re an immortal, time does tend to drag without good entertainment once and awhile.” Hook: (As he continues to be lowered closer to the water:) “What’s that got to do with me?” Morpheus/Hades: “I’m glad you asked. I fancy myself as a bit of a collector. I’ve explored the inner most thoughts of every great villain and hero throughout time thanks to their guilt. People you know in fact. The Evil Queen, The Savior, even Rumplestiltskin himself. But the one person who seemingly has never lost a moment’s sleep over their nefarious deeds, is you.” Hook: “You’re wrong.” Morpheus/Hades: “Oh no, I’ve checked. After almost three hundred years on this earth, you have never once had your dreams invaded by any of the people you’ve killed. That, Captain, makes you someone very special indeed. I just had to meet you, which is why I sent Prince Charming’s poor father Robert up to speak with his son.” Hook: “The coin, the pages... you stirred up all that forgotten history just so you could trap me down here?” Morpheus/Hades: “Believe me, I was surprised you were even capable of guilt after all these years. And then I realised it wasn’t your guilt that brought you to my world. Especially when the very first thing you did upon entering your dreamscape was to try and take your vengeance. That’s what it’s always been about for you, hasn’t it, Killian? How you were wronged, how you were abandoned, how the world owes you something. You never cared for Milah, it was about the fact that the Dark One took something from you. You didn’t regret killing your father, because he abandoned you. You didn’t care about killing David’s father, only that somebody might finally make you pay for your crimes. Well finally, that someone is me. And I intend to enjoy every moment of it.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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sireneia-a · 6 years

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me realizing there’s twenty-one playable child units in fe4 second gen and thus exactly enough to assign each one an arcana in a persona au. you know what this means kids

it’s all under the cut with attempts at explanations. i know this isn’t rlly the most relevant thing to this blog, but i’ve written metas on characters that aren’t actually muses so i’m letting it slide. fe4 spoilers will be briefly touched upon for a few characters. the explanations are specifically for how the arcana are represented in persona, but please keep in mind i’m a persona scrub kdhfkdhfdfkfd so if it ends up being only specific to character arcs from p3, my bad. i’m also sticking to the standard cards and avoiding special ones like aeon. welcome to super self-indulgent hell

i did the order by recruitment order, but here’s a link to just the order of all the characters ( sans explanations ) by the actual tarot in case you just want to see that and be done with it

Seliph: The Fool

Obligatory protagonist role getting this arcana, but the Fool is generally based around one being influenced by others. Considering how Seliph is placed in a role as a liberator as thrust upon him by the people’s expectations due to his lineage, I thought it was fitting.

Lana: Priestess

Who I imagine would be the party’s initial navigator. Regardless, getting away from the strictly Persona gameplay aspects, the Priestess is an arcana given to quieter characters who have untapped potential. I generally just think Lana has the vibe for this as opposed to an actual reason.

Larcei: Temperance

This is one of the leftover ones admittedly. Temperance deals with an inability to balance one’s various life aspects. Larcei tends to be portrayed in adaptations as struggling between her combat as well as her love life, and she’s typically unlucky in the latter.

Ulster: Star

I love you Ulster, but he ended up also being one of the leftover ones as well. The Star is associated with hope and joy. There’s actually a pretty cool quote about this one in terms of bestowing help to others in their time of need but eventually being doomed to fall. Ulster is depicted as being protective of the others ( namely in Seliph’s childhood friend squad ) and is compassionate as well as a big brother type, thus I thought he matched up enough with the idea of bestowing help unto others.

Diarmuid: Strength

The Strength arcana in the Persona universe typically explores characters who have a strength of heart in order to keep going past hardships. Though almost everyone in gen 2 experiences tragedy and tries to overcome it, Diarmuid’s separation from his mother and then his consequent journey through Yied to reunite with his family stuck out to me. Additionally, he always seemed to have a good head on his shoulders even when given bad news in fe5 should you let Nanna fall in battle before he joins Leif’s party.

Lester: Sun

The Sun arcana directly deals with happiness, typically revolving around characters who are faced with miserable situations yet still try and be optimistic; alternatively, the character has lost their initial happiness. A really cool arcana in terms of character arcs, and Lester got it not because I thought it fit him, but because he was literally my last option and I thought the Sun arcana would fit him more than some other remaining ones, and a lot of the characters at this point I was dead set on keeping them locked in to the ones I chose for them. I initially gave this arcana to Lene.

I’d love to meet someone whose fav is Lester sdkhkddf I feel so bad that I don’t have a lot in terms of analysis on him.

Julia: Fortune

The one I knew I’d want the most for this arcana right away: the Fortune arcana revolves entirely around fate. The characters usually have to make a large decision and strive to seize their own destiny. Julia and Julius both have their births completely orchestrated for the sole purpose of furthering the Lopt Sect’s goals, their fates determined by their bloodlines. Julia rises up from what originally seemed like a helpless situation to being the one to restore peace to Jugdral herself. I literally can’t imagine anybody else, sans Julius, who could fit this arcana better out of the second gen cast.

Fee: Chariot

The Chariot arcana places an emphasis on striving towards a goal, holding a determined and willful spirit. Fee is another character I knew I instantly wanted for a specific arcana, as she’s fixated on finding her missing father-- especially when you take FE5 canon into mind and make her father Lewyn. She embodies both the arc ( willing to accomplish her goal no matter what ) but also the personality associated with the arcana.

Arthur: Magician

For starters, giving this arcana to an actual mage is so satisfying. In any case, the arcana is associated with somebody who takes more of a secondary role to the protagonist but still has their own ego. Additionally, great tragedy befalls and motivates the character-- though typically it’s romance-related in terms of arcs, but I ended up omitting that for this. Arthur is a character who exudes confidence, something that Fee suspects might not be well-deserved when they bicker, and his call to action revolves around his desire to reunite with his family. He’s aware terrible things befell his mother and sister and is terribly protective of his sister as a result. Tine honestly might get the shortest end of the stick out of the second gen cast in terms of horrible fates.

The LI manga adaptation also depicts Arthur as a shameless flirt that is a bit of a pervert, which also helps just strengthen the tie between him and the typical archetype for the Magician arcana character in the Persona series.

Iuchar: Moon

Even though you can’t recruit both of the Neir brothers in one run, I’m giving them different arcanas since I personally think that their character arcs in-game are different enough to warrant it and it gets me up to my perfect twenty-one number.

The Moon arcana revolves around illusions and typically involves a character seeing reality not as how it is, some going so far as to blame themself for something that isn’t true. My analysis on Iuchar touches upon the idea that he’s putting up his carefree personality as an act to be able to more easily show kindness upon Isaachians without arousing suspicion from his family; additionally, it talks about the idea that Iuchar blames himself for everything his family has done under the Empire and asks for forgiveness sincerely, not understanding how Seliph sees that Iuchar is blameless and that even if he wasn’t, the people love him already. Iuchar simply can’t see that reality. Though him being the actual canonically flirty character is a good argument to assign him the Magician arcana, I ultimately personally see the Moon arcana as more fitting for him.

Iucharba: Death

The Death arcana is about life cycles and predominantly characters undergoing a great change. Iucharba is a character I personally note for not really being taken seriously by his family as noted in this meta and he undergoes a great transformation throughout the events of Genealogy should you recruit him as a result. He begins as a young man allied with the Empire, a man sorely underestimated plenty, and he ends up developing into this character that suddenly is the heir to the Neir bloodline and consequently is now actually in a position of power within Grannvale-- a position he was nowhere near getting before defecting. Also not really necessary for this arcana, but the fact that you can only recruit him at the cost of killing his brother helps put a literal death association.

Patty: Devil

I actually originally had Patty assigned to the Lovers arcana, but I think this is fitting enough too. The Devil arcana typically deals with characters who commit immoral actions and have difficulty telling that what they’re doing is wrong. They’re led by impulse and temptation but they are also typically dedicated to a cause. Patty is a thief who steals to procure funds for the orphans her and her brother look after. Her compassion is her commitment and though she’s aware what she’s doing is shady, she still believes herself to be partly in the right because those she steals from are terrible people as well. She’s a more mature Dew in a sense. She’s not a perfect fit for the Devil arcana, but she fits it the most out of all the second gen.

Leif: Justice

Leif honestly probably could’ve fit a few, but I decided the Justice arcana is most suitable; the characters associated with this arcana typically are concerned with fairness and can be pretty stoic. Leif’s obsessed with enacting vengeance-- a theme that is just a breath away from justice. He’s the character I think of most in Jugdral that cares the most about karma and seeing people get what they deserve. Additionally, he fits the personality trend in how he attempts ( keyword: attempt ) to suppress his feelings.

Nanna: Empress

The Empress arcana is given to elegant women in high positions of authority. They’re typically a little on the cold side but hold compassion ( perhaps in a sort of motherly fashion ) for others underneath all of that. The second gen are almost all royalty or nobility of some degree, but Nanna especially came off as a princess to me the most out of all the characters. Additionally, God her JP voice actress really nails that refined aura. Nanna’s personality in my opinion also matches the trend in how she can be a little curt ( namely to Finn should he be her father as well as to Homer in his recruitment conversation ) but she ultimately is heralded for being kind and supportive by Leif.

Also gameplay-wise, the Empress personas typically end up having healing skills, and Nanna’s class as troubadour plays into this too.

Ares: Hierophant

Another character I was certain of what arcana I wished to assign them from the start, though I feel like a lot of people would think of different cards than I did. The Hierophant characters typically are fixated on the past and need to learn how to move on from that. Ares’s arc literally revolves around how he’s obsessed with killing Seliph to enact revenge for ( what he believes to be ) Sigurd killing Eldigan. Even Lene attempts to get Ares to stop being tied down to the past and to accept the present and the future.

Lene: Lovers

I went into this really wanting Lene to be assigned to the Sun as mentioned previously but ended up changing her to the Lovers which works out too. The Lovers character is usually someone who is popular and they’re tied between two conflicting aspects of themself. Lene is friendly and charismatic both due to her personality as well as her line of work, and her character explores her maturity as Ares’s confidant in opposition to how she’s fixated on finding her mother no matter what-- something that can be interpreted as a childish fantasy that’s hopeless considering how little of information she has to go on. Additionally, the Lovers personas gameplay-wise are usually healers and associated with wind magic, and though that doesn’t quite fit Lene, it coincides with it enough what with her being a support unit primarily and also both her cipher and her heroes art associating breezes with her.

Tine: Judgement

Judgement arcs explore characters realizing their true calling and gaining absolution and acceptance. Tine is initially allied under the Empire due to her connection to the Friege family, and she lived a very stifling existence until she defects. She’s uncertain exactly what she’s doing as well as who’s “right” at the time that she takes to the battlefield but she comes to realize that Seliph’s liberation army has good intentions. The truth that seemed so muddied before becomes so much clearer by the end. She also is another character who asks for forgiveness from Seliph and ends up being wholly surprised by how easily he gives her it. I feel like this implies that desire for absolution her entire life and it’s over the course of the war that she’s able to feel comfortable in her own skin and voice out her own wishes.

Febail: Tower

Ah, yes, the Edge Lord card. Regardless, the Tower arcana deals with bad omens and doom and destruction. The characters associated with this card are typically characters who have fallen from grace. Febail is unknowingly the prince of Jungby, one of the few playable second gen units guaranteed major holy blood, but he lives his life struggling in an orphanage and as a mercenary who will take any job so long as it gives him the money to provide for the other orphans. He loses sight of his own morality, needing to be reprimanded by his sister that his attempt to slay Seliph isn’t actually going to end in his goal of prosperity for the kids. Though all the kids have taken a tumble in life, I genuinely think Febail captures this concept the best.

Ced: Emperor

If there’s literally any character I think could actually translate super well into a Persona verse more seriously beyond just me assigning arcanas, I honestly think it’d be Ced. Anyhow, the Emperor arcana holds characters who desire to control their environment even if fate gives them trouble in attempting to do so, and the characters typically are suffering from a personal issue that they do not know how to tackle. Ced is a mage who goes out of his way to find his father and along the way, brought on by his own conviction, establishes the Magi Squad to try and help the people suffering in Manster from oppression underneath the Empire. That active role reflects the arcana very well in my eyes, and Ced’s personal conflict with Lewyn as a neglectful father as per FE5′s canon seals the deal.

Coirpre: Hermit

Hermit wasn’t my first pick for Coirpre as an individual character, but I gave him it pretty quickly after I thought about the entire second gen cast collectively as opposed to just standalone cases. I think Coirpre would most likely end up as the second, more powerful navigator character to recruit especially with his ties to the Bragi bloodline and the canonical Bragi connection to prophetic truth.

Coirpre doesn’t have the strongest connection to his arcana, but the Hermit arcana characters typically put themselves in situations where they are hiding away from the spotlight and others. As such, these characters are usually more in background or supportive roles in life. Coirpre is a healer in an extremely militant country, a larger anomaly considering the fact that his father is the Shield of Thracia-- a famed general. Coirpre, upon being locked away as a hostage, adamantly requests to be let go because he doesn’t wish for his father to be forced to fight; he seeks a more discreet way to solve the issue befitting of the arcana and ultimately sought out a calmer solution. Judging by his minor involvement in FE5, he also is more neutral typically in terms of alignment, not caring much for whether or not Leif was a runaway prince but also not offering to join him unlike the other FE4 characters who show up in the midquel. Coirpre keeps himself on the down low until he’s freed by the liberation army and realizes his father and he need to take a stance against the Empire more actively.

Altena: Hanged Man

The Hanged Man arcana explores characters who undergo arcs where they are caught between two extremes or two parties in their life. Altena encompasses this idea best in how she is troubled by her loyalty to southern Thracia due to being raised as its princess and her true lineage as Leonster’s princess. She is at odds due to this conflict, what with both parties being at opposite ends of the battlefield from one another and she’s forced to make a choice between her adopted brother and her blood brother.

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