#Now an After set! I like to imagine both but gosh what a tumultuous time to take care of a baby | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.

My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough.

“oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.”

A flying toenail hit my eye.

“WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.

“Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

“oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!”

“IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back.

I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle.

“All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

“You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.”

“Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.”

I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.”

“Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?”

This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did.

After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t.

And he didn’t.

And therein lay the problem.

It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

“Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.”

“Ew, he smells like meat.”

“RENNY!!”

“I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

“He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.”

She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window.

“Hey Renny?”

“Hm.”

A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?”

“Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.”

“Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.

“Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?”

Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first.

“I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.”

“Oh.”

“It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

“The divorce or your virginity.”

“Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis.

“I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more.

Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?”

Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him.

“Maybeeee…?”

But then there was last night.

I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves?

“No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.”

Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.”

“Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this.

Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly.

But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him?

You were right, Harry. You are fucked.

I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh.

I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

Renny was right.

I needed therapy.

The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

“Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?”

DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please.

I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

“NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

“Fine. I can keep a secret.”

I was getting a little too good at that lately.

She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious.

“Yeah, more than you know.”

And I was serious, too.

--------------------------------------

I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs.

Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery. .

“Woah did you hear that?”

Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.”

It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next.

A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did.

“It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts.

“How’d you know that?”

She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance.

I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick.

Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away.

My hand wavered.

Odd.

Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors.

I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over.

“Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”

Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster.

“I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.”

Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too.

“Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed.

We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from.

“Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment.

My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?”

“Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-”

“My God,” David proclaimed.

Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.”

“Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass.

Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

“Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased.

He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.”

We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left.

“Look closer.”

My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang.

“Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin.

The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot.

“Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

“Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.”

“How so?”

“Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.”

He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside.

He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles.

“They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said.

A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.”

“Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.”

“Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him.

I felt him come closer.

“Listen now,” he urged.

I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder.

“Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.”

I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed.

“Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?”

I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous.

“What do you hear?” he urged.

“I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped.

But right when I was about to open my eyes-

I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter.

“Birds?” I opened my eyes.

“Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself.

“Why are there birds?”

“We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half.

My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.”

“All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes.

“Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.”

“What do you mean?”

She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow.

I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second.

I was naked.

In all of them.

One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.

Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet.

The wine had dropped.

I’d dropped it.

I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb.

“Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked.

I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe.

He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees.

Because that’s what it was.

An exposure.

A stranger could pay to have me in their home.

The floor spun, vision spotting.

My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly.

“I didn’t want this.”

And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home.

part 22

237 notes · View notes

fandomflail · 7 years

Text

title: Recognition

rating: T, (M in later chapters)

summary: Soulmate trope AU. Set in a world where humans and elves coexist.

a/n: most of the times, I have John Adam’s problem when it comes to writing. for this fic, I was Alexander Hamilton. I’ll most likely be making weekly updates, though if there’s good response I might do bi-weekly.

CHAPTER 1 / 8

The boy is a brunette, eyes the color of oak, and yet though they look nothing alike, he reminds Emma too much of herself. She can still taste the tang of blood as her teeth had crashed against the metal bars of the playground, the jeering of the children as they bullied the dirty little unwensket.

It’s why she’s here, why she’d taken this rather perilous career of Placing unwenskets, or unwanted human children.

“Emma?” little Henry asked, voice strong despite knowing that a visit from Emma Swan meant he was still alone, without a family.

“Hmm?” she responded, running her fingers across the boy’s messy hair, attempting to make it look more presentable.

“What’s Recognition? Or soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes?”

Emma paused, then continued her administrations more slowly. She wanted to ask where Henry had heard that, but considering the theme of Recognition was embedded into all parts of elvish and human society, it seemed like a moot question.

“Recognition is when two beings of the opposite sex have a case of sudden, involuntary connect and need to uh… reproduce, often becoming life-mates. This is described by the phrase, ‘soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes’”.

“So you can’t… you have no power to stop it?”

Emma tamped down her own uneasiness, thinking of the centuries old debate of free will versus the fate and stars of the universe.

“You could resist,” she told the boy who was looking at her with eyes that held a thousand questions, “but most people don’t. Your soulmate is someone who is aligned in every way to you, you don’t have to do anything with them, but you’d be all the more sadder for resisting what is essentially a part of you.”

“But what if you don’t like girls?”

“Like I said, then you don’t have to do anything. You can continue life with your same-sex partner, but as far as I know, having a soulmate of the opposite sex rarely happens to people who don’t like the opposite sex. Recognition is purely… um, it’s… for… making sure there’s children. It’s not something that happens to humans, Henry.”

“So I don’t have to worry that I’ll have to marry Ryan?”

“Who is Ryan?”

“He’s the boy I punched, the one who kept pulling my hair and tripping me.”

In other words, Emma thought, he’s the reason I was called in to see if you could be moved, feeling a sense of righteous rage that Henry was being penalized for defending himself.

“I’m glad you did,” she said to Henry. The boy gasped, turning his head to look at her, making his hair flop across his forehead dramatically.

“You are?” he asked with the innocence of a 11 year old.

“Yes. He’s a bully, and they don’t stop until you push back and say, no, no this is not okay.”

“But now they don’t want me here,” Henry said, eyes moving downcast.

“Do you know where I live, Henry?”

“Is it far from here?”

“Yes. I live in Alamané. Do you know where that is?”

Judging by Henry’s gasp, he’d at least heard of it.

“The elves live there,” he said.

“And humans too,” Emma said, keeping her laughter in check. “It’s a city where those who believe in Integration stay.”

Henry looked like he couldn’t believe what Emma was saying, the unasked question hanging between them, as Emma took a deep breath and said, “Would you like to stay with me for a while in Alamané?”

“Boy, do I ever!”

* * *

In what she supposes is an inevitable progression, Emma Swan finds herself with a son, officially, two years later. Henry’s taken to Alamané like an elf to fine crochet, that is to say, impeccably.

They have a routine and everything, and Emma would have never guessed that bringing a teenage boy into her life would lead to such structure and contentment.

“Mom!” Henry yelled, bursting through the door like a whip was at his heels.

“Indoor voice!” she yelled back, putting the case file down and looking up as he skidded into the living room.

“You’re yelling too!” he said, but barreled on, “you’re not going to believe this, Mom, you are NOT going to believe this, the Noble Elves are going to be visiting next month!”

“Oh, really? That’s awesome, kid,” she said, taking in his bright cheeks and obvious delight.

Henry had been obsessed about the elves as a young child, reading about them as a form as escapism. Elves had incredibly low fertility rates, as well as high maternal and infant mortality rates. A successful pregnancy and birth were often a great cause of celebration, and as such, children were revered. She could understand why an unwensket would yearn to be close to elves, why he would covet such a thing.

“They’re holding an open court in the Alamané Council Court, can we go, please?”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen an elf, Henry,” she reminded him with a smile, even though they both knew she was going to say yes to his request.

“I know, Gracie and her father are going,” he said, referring to his only elvish friend, one he’d met at the library, of all places. It still surprised her, sometimes, how close they were.

After all, as progressive and inclusive as Alamané was about Integration, the fact remained that humans outnumbered elves 5,000 to 1, and 10,000 to 1 when it came to elvish children. As such, they were often regarded as celebrities, and for all the Integration activities, the divide between the two species were numerous and cause for tensions.

“Do you suppose we could go with them?”

“Gracie’s dad already said yes,” Henry said with no trace of shame. “Mr. Jefferson would love to see you,” he added on, with a smirk that was unbecoming.

“He’s not my type, Henry.”

“He said you’re fae-like, mum.”

She turned, mouth dropping open in shock. “He told you that?!”

“No, he asked me if you had a bit of elvish in you. I said your ear tips are too round.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. “That’s stereotypical. And stop meddling,” she said sternly.

* * *

The strong winds had her hair flying all over the place, making Emma huff repeatedly as she attempted to stuff it into the hood of her jacket.

Irritatingly beside her, Jefferson stood adorned in only his long tunic coat and pants, undisturbed by the weather. In addition to their long lives, elves had an internal heating system Emma would have given a few toes for. It was maddening, how lithe and agile this made them seem.

“It’s odd, how much praise they get just for being born into a Noble House,” Jefferson said, appearing to address all of them.

“Oh papa,” Gracie said, a smile turning the corner of her lips up, “don’t be so vexed, they’re more than vapid figureheads.”

“Oh, did you hear that the Elvenking will be wearing the Alexandrite Crown today?” Henry said, joining in the conversation without a care. Emma tugged a little on his scarf, securing it tighter so he’d stay warm.

“Is that true? I don’t think the crown has left the Enchanted Forest palace in centuries,” Jefferson said, giving Henry a stare that looked like approval. It made Emma feel proud, despite the fact that she didn’t need the elf’s approval - it was just… he was so odd, his mannerisms and eccentricity; she could never be sure if it was ‘just an Elf Thing’ or a personality thing. It felt like a victory.

“Why are they here?” Emma asked.

Jefferson lowered his volume, drawing the children and her closer. “It is said, that the younger prince eschewed his elvish pride and has been posing as human, living in Alamané for a close to a decade. He’s had tumultuous relations with his family but is going to rejoin Noble society.”

“Really? Why not announce that?”

“I would imagine, if rumors of the prince are true, his flighty nature might dissuade them from making any pre-mature announcements.”

“Oh,” she said, not sure what to make of that. It sounded like family drama best left in the family, so she said, “and how did Gracie get to the front of the line, in a place of honor?”

“Look around, Miss Swan, how many elvish children do you see? We have difficulty having them as it is, the years surrounding Gracie’s birth were even more difficult than usual. Any child is an honor to have attend. Children are great blessings, which is why I don’t understand how humans can just…leave them.”

“As a human, I have no idea either,” she said, putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder, which earned her an exasperated shake.

“You’re one too, aren’t you?” he asked lowly, voice low and smooth as a hot knife to butter.

“One what? An unwensket, you mean?”

“I did not use such a vulgar word,” he said, tone low and reprimanding, “the word orphan would do just as well.”

“That’s somehow worse,” she groused, “we’re reclaiming the word.”

“Humans are so odd,” Jefferson sighed, attention captured as Gracie hissed,”Papa!” grabbing onto his sleeve.

“Oh my gosh, there, there,” Henry said, as the crowd surged forward as the most beautiful beings to have ever graced the planets emerged at the front of the hall.

There were four of them, two women and two men, the blue crown of the Elvenking practically glowing atop the dark hair of his head. The Elvenking and his consort were fair of skin, both with ebony hair, tall and imposing. The other man had long curly blonde hair, a color much like Emma’s own sunshine, while his partner’s hair was so blonde it was almost white, her face reminding Emma of blown glass - fragile but strong enough to cut you. It was such an odd way to think of anyone’s face, but such was the thoughts that first entered her mind.

“Mum, mum, are you looking?”

“Yes, Henry,” she said.

There was a clink, a loud ringing sound that vibrated across the whole hall, which silenced everyone abruptly.

“Thank you for being here today,” the Elvenking spoke; his voice was not at all what Emma expected. She had expected a clear, melodious voice from a man who looked like that, and instead was treated to a deep baritone.

“It is always a great joy to visit Alamané, where man and elf live side by side, in cultured society. We look forward to meeting with our people, and any human accompanied by elves. And of course, should you be approached by our Noble Sukrasa with an invite to our Royal Gala, we will see you then. Namárië, tenna enta lúmë.”

“Namárië, tenna enta lúmë,” chorused the elves in the hall.

“What does that mean?” she heard Henry whisper to Gracie.

“Farewell, until the next time.”

“Namahrey, tenner enta loomeh,” Henry attempted, earning a giggle from Gracie, who proceeded to correct his pronunciation.

* * *

Henry was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet, dressed impeccably in a dark green elven tunic that Jefferson had procured.

“I cannot believe this, am I dead? Am I dead? Is this what death feels like? Because it is awesome!” Henry was babbling, swirling the sleeves of his tunic around as Emma dressed, cinching the corset of her gown, a designer from renowned elven dress-maker, Merline Camelot.

Jefferson had insisted on renting them both fine quality clothes because they’d been invited by the Elvenking himself, who had looked at the four of them and had probably thought what a perfect picture of Integration they made.

“A royal ball! Am I dead?!”

“Henry, calm down kid, before you work yourself up into an anxiety attack.”

“Anxiety? No way. No way, I might die of a heart attack when we get there, but that’s a different story.”

She laughed, shaking her head fondly. “Anyone tell you you’re super dramatic?”

“Do you think they’ll let me be the official Royal Storyteller?”

“Is that even a thing?”

“Of course it is!”

“Okay, I believe you,” she said, still laughing, as she did a little twirl of her own. The flowing white sleeves fanned around her, as did the bottom of the dress, the intricate lace patterns so beautiful Emma could have cried. Gracie had gotten her a flower crown to match her own little one, and for the first time in her life, Emma wondered if she could pass as an elf maiden herself. She certainly looked the part tonight.

“You’re sure you’re not elven, Emma?” Jefferson had asked, eyes widening when he’d taken her in, and she had simply smiled as they had entered the beautifully decorated Royal Ball Hall.

She met more elves in those few hours than she had ever met living ten years in Alamané. There would be one, however, who would forever change everything.

tagging those who showed interest in the sneak pic, please track tag ‘cs ff recognition’ for future updates:

@piratesails @freckelscheeks @pinkbonesforeverblog @alys07 @emswan @julesep3026 @rouhn @stephat815 @strawberryfieldsbricksonwalls @andiirivera @env13 @klar425 @urufrufruf @shady-swan-jones @teamhook @fleurreads @fictional-redheads @myswan-myhappyending-mylove @scottieswan @haocomeback @onceuponaprincessworld @adeelam @fallensites @deathbycaptainswan @ascolinwishes @ab-normality

#cs ff #cs fic #cs ff recognition #cs soulmate au #cs au #captain swan

79 notes · View notes