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hookedonapirate · 5 years

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The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumplestiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.

A/N: Thank you @ilovemesomekillianjones for your wonderful beta skills and @gingerchangeling for all of your suggestions and feedback! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 Ch 2

Chapter 3

“Let me go, you spineless pigs!” screams a woman with fiery red, curly hair and a temper to match. She's forced to sit on the wooden floor below deck, her hands bound in front of her by rope, eyes full of fury as the two turbaned guards show her their scimitars in case she decides to grow violent again. There are two other women sitting to the right of her; both have been docile, but no less frightened, and therefore their hands are not tied.

“These will be your companions for the trip to Neverland, and they will also be your roommates at the palace, so I suggest you become acquainted,” Nemo tells Emma before leaving them to chat among themselves.

One of the females is very tall with a long, slender body, shimmering blue eyes and silvery blonde hair that's pulled into a lengthy braid laying over her shoulder as her arms are around a younger girl, who looks very frightened. She is curled up against the silvery blonde, her cheeks stained with tears as she rests her head on the other girl's shoulder. She has auburn hair and wears a braid on each side, her eyes are a light hazel color and she is at least a few years younger than the silvery blonde. Perhaps they are sisters? Emma thinks as she sits between the younger girl and the redhead.

“I am Elsa.” The silvery blonde removes her hand from the other girl’s face and sticks it out to Emma.

“Emma,” she murmurs softly, shaking Elsa's hand.

“This is my sister, Anna.”

Anna looks over at Emma and sits up a little, also shaking her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you both, although I am sorry it’s under these circumstances.” She turns and looks to the other girl, who is now curled up into a ball, shocked to silence. “What’s your name?”

The redhead is slow to look at her, but eventually, she regards Emma with a permanent frown on her tear stained face. “The name is Merida. I am a princess,” she grumbles, her bottom lip trembling. “I am not supposed to be here.”

“I know what you mean, I am a princess as well,” Emma says; she’s just as angry and sad as Merida, but unlike her, Emma is able to subdue her emotions.

“So, we are all princesses, is that why they took us?” Elsa asks no one in particular.

Emma is not surprised as she turns her head to look at her.

Elsa is staring vacantly at nothing in particular, distracted by her thoughts. “I was supposed to be the queen of Arendelle, and Anna was supposed to be married, but the Lost Boys invaded our kingdom and raided the cathedral during the wedding. They killed our parents and took us away.”

Emma’s heart goes out to them. At least her family still lives; these two women are now orphans, even if they were to make it back home. “My deepest condolences to both of you.” She turns back to Merida. “What about you? How were you captured?”

“I was betrothed to a man I didn’t want to marry.” Merida goes on to tell a long tale about how she was betrothed to one of her father’s allies and how she ran off into the woods where she was captured and imprisoned by an enemy of her father’s and then sold at an auction house.

“What about you, Emma?” Elsa asks her curiously. “How did you get here?”

Emma closes her eyes, trying to find the courage to tell her story, but in hindsight she should feel better than she does, knowing her family is still alive, unlike Elsa and her sister. “I was betrayed by one of my own men,” she finally says, opening her eyes. “He was a bodyguard charged to protect me and instead…” her voice cracks as she wills herself to continue, “instead he was an imposter who was hired by an evil countess to murder me.” A tear slips from Emma’s eye when the words leave her mouth.

“This man… did you love him?” Elsa asks, and the words make Emma's heart hurt.

She nods. “I loved him as a friend. I cared for him, and I thought he had felt the same about me.”

“But he didn’t kill you. Perhaps he did love you and that is why he sent you away instead of murdering you?”

“It matters not. He betrayed my trust. He lied to me, and now I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for ever leaving my heart unguarded.”

Anna offers a small smile and takes Emma’s hand. “I can empathize your fear, believe me, but you should not let one man prevent you from trusting again. We are going to a terrible place where women kill for their master’s affections, but if we stick together and trust each other we can make it a more bearable and peaceful place.”

Emma appreciates this young woman's optimism—Anna sounds much like Emma’s father, full of hope—but she’s reluctant. She doesn’t see this palace in Neverland as a place she will ever enjoy residing, no matter the company. “But if we submit ourselves to these Neverland pigs and comply with them and their customs, then don’t they win?”

“Maybe so, but if we let the palace turn us against each other, then nothing good can come of it. We will show them they cannot break our spirits.”

Emma nods, but she’s still pessimistic. The worst thing she can imagine is to submit to the Sultan, because what kind of man buys women like cattle just so he can have his pleasure when he demands and gain an heir out of it? He does not sound like a man at all. Only the scum of the earth and she will never give herself willingly to him.

The four women ascend to the upper deck to watch as the ship pulls away from the harbor, and while the others gaze out over the open sea, Emma looks in the opposite direction, watching as her father’s ship from Misthaven becomes further and further away. A tear slides down her cheek as the hope of seeing her family again is washed up with waves of the sea.

As the ship approaches Neverland, Nemo explains what’s expected of them. They must behave themselves and listen to their supervisor, Mother Superior. She is essentially a paid odalisque instead of a slave and oversees the women of the harem.

When they arrive at the palace, they are forced to line up in the harem courtyard.

“Stand in line, chins up, ladies.” A petite, dark-haired woman commands, whom Emma quickly learns is Mother Superior, and although her words carry a demanding tone, she seems kind.

“See? It’s not so bad,” Elsa whispers to Emma as she stands next to her.

“We have seen nothing yet,” Emma grumbles, a scowl on her face.

The harem servants and eunuchs bow their heads when a woman enters the courtyard. Emma gets a look at her before bowing her head. Judging by her elaborate clothing—a dark, velvet gown with a pointed collar that stands upright on the back of her neck and opens in the front, and a crown set atop her head with ruby jewels—she is very powerful and wealthy, perhaps the Valide Sultan Nemo had mentioned. The woman walks up to each new concubine and gently lifts her chin, studying her features carefully.

“You have done very well, Nemo. These women appear to be exquisite and lovely, just as I had asked.”

“Thank you, Sultana. They are indeed.”

“Take them to the baths and have the physician examine them,” she commands the eunuchs and starts to leave as they grab each of the four arrivals.

Emma becomes enraged when they put their hands on her. “Do not touch me!” she shouts, struggling against them.

This gains the Sultana’s attention and she whirls around, glaring at Emma. “You will do as you are told. You are Sultan Killian’s property now, and if you do not bow your head and obey, you will be punished.” She looks to the eunuchs holding her. “Take her away.”

“I am nobody’s property! I will never submit to him!” Emma shouts as she is hauled from the courtyard along with the other three girls.

The bathing area is constructed of grey-veined marble walls and a domed ceiling with high windows, allowing light to filter through. Here, the four women are stripped of their clothes and given a towel and a pair of pattens to wear on their feet while forced to endure a physical examination to make sure they are physically fit and presentable to the Sultan. The physicians check their eyes, inside their mouths and ears, examine their breasts and have them sit back, opening their legs to prod around their lady parts.

It is the most degrading experience Emma has ever endured. Being ripped from her home, sold and hauled off to some barbaric empire ruled by men and forced to stay docile while being examined like cattle. Then the concubines are meant to serve their master and breed if they are lucky enough. Never in Emma’s life has she imagined being treated like this. She is a princess for heaven’s sake!

And yet she briefly wonders if this is not better than the life she would've had with Baelfire. It is a bittersweet alternate perhaps.

After the exams, the four gediklis move to an adjacent part of the bathing area, their pattens clip-clopping against the marble floor. There is a large fountain in the center of the room with water that has been heated in the massive boiler below, and the girls sit around it, scooping up the water in large copper basins and pouring it over their heads. Each of the four gediklis is attended by maids who scrub and bathe them before giving them manicures, pedicures and massages. One of Emma’s attendants is a slender, beautiful woman with long ebony hair and red lips, whom Emma learns has a very fitting name—Ruby.

~*~

The silvery moon illuminates the inky blackness of the sky, it's light spilling over the terrace as Killian sits with James on an outdoor couch drinking forbidden wine and soaking up the stars that sparkle and glitter over the sea.

The wound he'd sustained from his father's passing is still fresh, but if he's being honest with himself, Brennan was not a good man, or at least he hadn't left this world as one. He let power and wealth consume him, he let his position muffle his conscious. Killian swears to the gods above he will be better. He will be morally sound, demonstrate good ethics and wisdom, he will be kind and fair-minded, and not let his power and position change him into something unrecognizable when he looks in the mirror.

“You see, James, our dreams are slowly coming to life. After all the war, death and raids we have reached this night.”

James smiles and offers a nod. “The future will be a great one. You will be an excellent emperor, just as you have dreamt about.”

“We shall see.” Killian takes a drink from his goblet of wine and looks at his friend who appears to be in deep contemplation. Though James seems happy, forcing a smile whenever he deems necessary, Killian can sense there is much to be desired for his friend in the palace. And he is not to be blamed. “My first order of business as Sultan is to have three wishes granted from you.”

James looks at him compliantly and nods. “Of course.”

“My first wish is for you to build a family. It’s long overdue.”

“But, Your Majesty, I already have a family.”

Killian cocks a brow at James, an amused grin dancing across his face. “You have a family you haven't told me about?”

“No, I assure you, I do not,” James replies, his lips cracking into a small smile, “but you’ve once told me I was like a brother to you. Is that no longer true?”

Killian saddens at the question, wondering why James would doubt him. “Of course it’s true. Which is why I hope to see you marry and have children.”

James can see Killian is sincere with his words and nods softly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“My next wish is for you to be the master of my privy chamber. I am appointing you concierge of the palace.”

James regards Killian with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. Even though he seems to be in shock, he manages to stand from the sofa, and kneels before the Sultan, kissing the skirt of Killian’s robe. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Killian chuckles, patting James on the shoulder. “I will inform Gepetto to let it be known after I ask him to keep the emperor seal and remain Grand Vizier of Neverland.”

James stands, bowing his head. “You have bestowed upon me a great honor. What is the third thing you wish for?”

Killian responds by nodding to the guards, and they move to the doors of the terrace which leads to his chambers.

James watches as they open the doors, a maiden emerging onto the terrace. She is beautiful, with long, ebony hair, white porcelain skin and ruby red lips. Killian stands and approaches her as she bows her head. When he’d first seen her he could not bear to look at her and had asked her to leave him, for she had reminded him too much of Milah. His heart was black and he was angry and sorrowful, building an iron cage around his heart. But now he can look at Ruby and appreciate her beauty from afar. “James, I would like you to accept one of my lovely maidens as a gift. Her name is Ruby.”

James is stunned in his spot. For a Sultan to present another man with one of the odalisques of his harem is an extremely huge honor.

“I can trust you will cherish and treat her with the utmost respect.”

James nods, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he is able to speak again. “My apologies, I am at a loss for words.”

“There is no need to say anything more. I only hope you will make one another happy.”

James approaches her and kisses the back of her hand. Her lips are pulled into a grin, showing off her pearly white teeth as she allows him to lead her from the terrace. He says a thank you to the sultan before disappearing to his chambers with Ruby.

Killian feels a sense of calmness knowing his friend will be happy with her, but he goes to his study, feeling the loneliness envelop him as he decides to play a game of chess against himself.

But when he moves the first white pawn, he is flooded with the memories of Milah and how she used to wrap her arms around him from behind when he had sat at his chess table or at his desk trying to work. She used to distract him, always craving his attention. A tear slides down his cheek and he stands up after making his opening move, deciding to call it a night.

Though his heart is slowly healing, he fears that without Milah, he will never be able to love again.

~*~

Mother Superior escorts the four women to their living quarters explaining the harem hierarchy of the palace.

“Odalisques are women of the court and are general servants assigned to the oda of a harem mistress. If they are considered extraordinarily beautiful, they are seen as potential concubines and are given the opportunity to prove themselves worthy enough through their training to become a concubine. You all have been chosen for a special purpose and are gediklis, maids-in-waiting. You have the privilege of being presented as gifts to the Sultan, per the request of the Valide Sultan.

“If you are fortunate enough to be summoned by the Sultan, to walk the Golden Road which leads to his bedroom, and are taken to his bed at least once, you will become an ikbal. If you are successful in satisfying the sultan, you are considered a gozde, meaning favorite .” As they walk through the harem courtyard, Mother Superior gestures to a balcony of the second level which overlooks the harem, and the gediklis follow her gaze. “This is the Apartment of The Favorites. Currently, there are none, but we are hoping to change that, which is where the four of you come in. Perhaps the Sultan will choose one of you or all of you if he pleases. If you make him happy, this will be where you'll stay.”

Emma cringes, having no desire to ever reside there.

Mother Superior moves along quickly, and the others break from their thoughts and follow behind. “An ikbal who gives the sultan a child, either a girl or a boy, is considered a kadin, which is equivalent to a wife. The sultan is only allowed four kadins at a time and will be moved to a larger apartment when she has the child.”

Emma looks over at the other three and they seem to feel as she does —a bit perplexed and overwhelmed by this lifestyle in the palace and everything their supervisor is explaining to them; it’s very different than where they are each from.

“The mother of the Sultan’s heir is a bas-kadin and she is the most powerful of the concubines. When the Sultan dies, his bas-kadin takes the title Valide Sultan and holds the most power of the harem and is the most powerful woman of the empire. The woman you saw earlier is Kira, the Valide Sultan, and you must obey her every command. If you do not, the consequences will be grave, but if you do, your experience in the palace will be a pleasant one. Any questions so far?” Mother Superior asks, turning around when they reach a red, sheer curtain dividing their sleeping quarters.

“How did you become a supervisor?” Elsa asks her curiously.

“I entered as an odalisque and was promoted to Kalfa,” she answers. “It is my duty to oversee each of you, keep you in line and make sure you learn as you are supposed to so that you can one day be summoned by the Sultan. Any more questions?”

“Yes,” Emma replies. “How does one escape this hell?”

The others giggle, but Mother Superior glares at her sternly, causing the gediklis to silence themselves. “The only escape is death. If you chose to die you may try to escape. Otherwise, you may stay here and learn our customs, our music, our dances and most importantly, how to please you master. You will have four months of intensive training and then you will be presented to Sultan Killian on his twenty-fifth birthday.”

“What do we do in our free time? Are we allowed to leave our quarters?” Anna asks her.

“Yes, you may. Each one of you will be assigned a household task that must be performed daily, you will all be expected to learn embroidery, and you will have exercise periods and of course your studies. You are not prisoners here, your lives will be very fulfilled.”

Emma scoffs. “We are not allowed to leave the palace. That makes us prisoners.”

“You are not prisoners by the laws of the empire. You are the property of the Sultan and therefore you must live within the walls of the Jewel of the Realm. But you have a limited amount of freedom. Leaving the harem is forbidden, gossip is forbidden and men are forbidden.

“If men are forbidden, then what about Nemo and the other men in uniforms?”

“They are not men,” Mother superior answers.

The four women all look at one another, confused. “They certainly look like men to me,” Anna says.

“They are eunuchs who have been castrated, which makes them less than men.” Mother Superior makes a snipping motion with her index and middle finger.

The four gediklis giggle.

“I have one more question,” Emma says before Mother Superior leaves the room.

She turns around, lifting a brow. “Yes?”

“If only the most beautiful women are presented to the sultan, then why is Ruby not a concubine?”

Mother Superior's eyes widen and she gently takes Emma's arm, pulling her on the other side of the curtain, away from prying ears. “You must not speak of such things. The Sultan has his reasons, and it is not your concern.”

Feigning embarrassment, Emma joins her hands in front of her, peering down at her feet. “My apologies, I was only trying to figure out this hierarchy of the harem, that is all. One can not gain further knowledge without asking the right questions.”

Mother Superior sighs defeatedly. “Very well, if you must know for further understanding, Ruby entered the old palace as Killian's bath maid when he was a prince, but upon seeing her, he demanded another attendant. He said she looked too much like Milah.”

“Who's Milah?”

“That is all I can say, my child, I have already said too much.” She starts to usher Emma back to her bed, but Emma pulls back.

“Was she a concubine?”

Mother Superior looks around to make sure there is no one listening. “You cannot speak of this to anyone, you must promise.”

Emma nods. “I promise.”

Mother Superior moves closer, speaking in almost a whisper. “She wasn't just any concubine, our prince at the time was in love with her. She was his gozde, his favorite, and supposed to be his kadin, as she was pregnant with his child.”

“What happened to her?”

“Her life was taken by a jealous concubine. Milah and her unborn child were poisoned with a medicine meant to cure anxiety. A lethal dose of it was sprinkled into her food by one of her maids after it was tested by the prince’s tasters and delivered to her apartment. Milah unknowingly consumed the poison before she went to sleep and it ruptured her heart.”

Emma’s mouth falls open slightly and fear consumes her. If that could happen to the Sultan’s favorite, then what could happen to her and the others when they are presented to him? “That’s awful.”

“You must not worry, my child. After the incident, Killian has established a strict policy that all kadins of his harem will never have the same attendant for very long to avoid forming a friendship that will eventually turn into partisanship. The maid who poisoned Milah was a very close friend of a former favorite, whose status became irrelevant when Milah entered the harem and quickly became the prince’s one and only. All of the maids in waiting were jealous when he only summoned Milah and no one else. So the ikbal rebelled and decided to take fate into her own hands.”

“That is a foolish policy,” Emma scoffs. “If friendships are avoided, will it not be easier for one to hate another and act out? Jealousy and hatred flourish in environments when there are no friendships, no understanding or empathy of one another. It is much easier to hate a stranger than a friend, is it not?”

“I suppose you are right, but it matters not. It is what the Sultan has decreed and therefore it cannot be changed. Now you must go to your bed and get your rest. A long day awaits you.” Mother Superior leaves the girls, closing the curtain behind her.

Emma seethes with anger as she returns to the others and changes into her nightgown. Women are murdering each other just so they can give their master an heir, and for what? So they can be tossed aside after the pregnancy while the Sultan moves on to the next maiden? It’s incredibly absurd!

“What did she say?” Elsa asks Emma as the silvery blonde takes a brush through her unbraided hair.

“Nothing, she only told me to behave and not make such foolish inquiries.” Emma shakes off Elsa’s question with a fib to avoid the temptation of divulging what Mother Superior had just told her. She looks between Elsa, Merida and Anna as they get ready for sleep, thinking of their earlier words on the ship. “I want the four of us to make a promise.”

“What kind of promise?” Anna asks as she and Merida pause from their tasks of preparing the bedding on their mattresses and walk over, the four of them gathering around.

“We shall make a promise right now to never let our new fate tear us apart. We shall promise to remain friends, no matter what happens,” Emma says, glancing between the three girls. “This way the Sultan will never be able to get in between us. Do all of you agree?”

They nod. “Of course.”

“Good,” Emma grins, knowing that she will not let this Sultan win, no matter what. She will not let him control her, nor her new friends. “Now let us get some sleep, ladies.”

Emma slips into bed, clutching onto the necklace Leo had given her, and she prays for her family, hoping they are well. Her parents are undoubtedly stricken with grief at the loss of their daughter, but she knows her brother is strong enough to help them through it.

~*~

“Where are you going?” James pouts as Ruby slips out of bed and starts dressing.

She smiles, her cheeks still flushed with a lovely shade of pink as she leans over and kisses his lips. “I have a very early day tomorrow. I have been assigned a new gedikli and must attend to her before her training. Nemo has brought four gifts for the sultan to be presented for his birthday.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And you might be interested to know she’s from Misthaven.”

James lifts a brow and sits up, his interest highly peaked indeed. “From Misthaven?”

“Yes, a princess. Her name is Emma. Perhaps you know her?”

James shakes his head. “Unlikely. As young as the maidens typically are when they enter the harem, she would not have been born yet when I was taken. I was only eight”

“You are correct, she is quite young, not yet eighteen years old.” Fully dressed, Ruby starts to leave, heading for the door.

“Wait, can I see you again?”

Ruby turns around, her brilliant grin assenting. There's a twinkle in her eye as she offers a wink before prancing out the door without saying another word.

He will definitely see her again.

~*~

The next day, schooling begins and the gediklis are immersed with the knowledge of the traditions, history, manners and morals of the Neverland inhabitants. Emma is bright and a very quick learner, so it doesn’t take very much time for her to catch on. She also studies music, dance and the erotic arts. An important part of her role in the Harem is to please the Sultan, whom everyone says is her owner. Who is this man and why does he need to buy slave girls to get them to his bed? He must be old, fat and ugly, Emma conjectures.

The girls must also learn other languages, and while Emma is already fluent in several different tongues, the others are not, so she tutors them. And since she is not as good at dancing as Elsa and Anna are, she learns from them and studies hard so she can dance as well as them. Emma does everything she is told and learns all that she can so she can pretend to adapt while finding a way for her and her new friends to escape the palace.

In her free time, she decides to test the limits of where she can actually go. Mother Superior had told her the Golden Road is only for those concubines who are fortunate enough to be summoned by the Sultan, but she shall see about that. If she is to be a prisoner in the Jewel of the Realm, no one will tell her where she can or cannot go.

She sneaks off, leaving the harem and wandering through the palace, noticing there are no guards on duty. So much for the palace being heavily guarded, Emma scoffs and continues down a vaulted road with plastered walls and stone pavement.

It’s not until she hears voices when she ducks into a nearby room. She isn't allowed the chance to shut the door before some guards pass by, so she hides behind it, leaving it cracked open. When she’s certain they’re gone, Emma looks around the room, taking in her surroundings. The walls are covered in rich textiles and hung with cabinet paintings, and there are many incunables and works of art. Among all of the personal belongings of which Emma assumes are the Sultan’s, her eyes are drawn to the middle of the room where there is a chess board table.

Her eyes light up as she makes her way over. All of the chess pieces are in their proper starting positions, apart from the white pawn which is placed in the center of the board as though someone had started to play but had been interrupted. This move not only claims control of the center, but it liberates White’s light-squared bishop as well as the White Queen. It is a smart move indeed. Emma bites her bottom lip and decides how to retaliate. While White gets the opening move, Black only gains the advantage after equalizing the position and eroding White’s opening position. With a carefully measured plan of where she shall go next, she makes a move that equalizes her position with the white.

“Excuse me, you are not allowed to be in here.”

Her head snaps up, her hand flying off the black pawn.

Is that— No, it couldn't be. Or could it?

Her eyes start to well up with tears, for the sound of his voice is unmistakable. The same voice she has known since she was a baby. The voice that had once sang her sweet lullabies and filled her head with stories when she was a child. A big smile blossoms across her face, she's relieved her father has found her and will bring her home from this hell. Or is she only imagining this voice?

Her question is answered when she turns around. Or so she thinks.

~*~

James is still smiling after his night with Ruby when he sees the door to Killian's study cracked open and enters the room to investigate. There is a maiden with long golden hair at the chess table toying with the Sultan's game. She must be new in the palace if she thinks she can leave the harem and enter the Sultan's study.

“Excuse me, you are not allowed to be in here.”

She jumps, startled by his words and spins around. When he sees her face, his heart stops. She is one of the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes upon and her smile makes him melt. Who is she and why has he never seen her before? Has the Sultan taken her to his bed?

“Father?”

He stands frozen as she says the one word that could cool the lust he had felt from merely gazing upon her. “Father?” he parrots, furrowing his brows in confusion. His mind is reeling as he tries to determine whether or not she is expelling truths. Could he have a daughter he does not know about? She looks to be about seventeen or eighteen and he certainly was not a virgin that many years ago. “Wandering into the Sultan’s cabinet and mistaking me for someone else, you must be delusional. We must get you back to the harem before anyone finds out you are missing.” He strides over and gently grabs her arm, attempting to usher her out of the room when he sees behind her that she has retaliated to the opening move Killian had made earlier. He will be furious if he finds out. James can’t help but feel impressed though, for Emma is a clever one to have made that move.

~*~

Emma doesn't budge, too focused on the spitting image of her father. When he turns his head away from her, she notices the scar on his left cheek. A scar her father did not have. With his grip still on her arm, Emma lifts her hand, her thumb gently tracing the line of his scar. He shudders under her touch, and he places his hand over hers to stop her, his eyes full of pain as she reminds him of his past.

“Uncle James?” she murmurs, her eyes wide with shock.

“How do you know my name? And why do you refer to me as such?”

“You are my father’s brother. He… he thought you were dead. We all did.”

The man’s eyes widen as he studies Emma’s face. “You are… you are David’s daughter?”

Emma nods, a smile making its way across her lips. “I am.”

James draws out a breath and pulls her into a hug, much to her surprise. “I am relieved. For a second I thought I had a child I did not know about,” he laughs.

Emma sighs contentedly as she rests her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and secure in the arms of the man who has all the same physical qualities as her father. “My apologies. I just… I was taken away from him, from my family and taken here.”

James pulls away, his features clouding with apology. “I am sorry...”

“It’s Emma.”

The name sounds familiar, and then he remembers Ruby mentioning her. “Ah, yes you are the princess from Misthaven.” James puts the pieces together when he recalls everything Ruby had told him. “Wait. David is king?”

Emma nods. “Yes, my father was adopted by King George and ascended the throne when he died.”

“Wait, you mean, I could’ve —I could’ve been a king?” he asks, anger lacing his words.

“Perhaps, but that is neither here nor there. You are alive and well and everything will be fine.” Emma's eyes light up in excitement. “We can both escape and go back to Misthaven.”

“I am sorry, Emma, but we cannot leave.”

Her features fall in confusion. “And why not?”

“Because you will be killed if you try and I will be killed for helping you escape. Even if we do succeed, the guards will come after us and we will be killed then. Besides, this is my home. I do not wish to leave.”

Emma is completely appalled and baffled by this. “But you are a slave, how can want to stay here?”

“I came to Neverland as one, but I am a slave no longer. I am the concierge of my Master’s palace. He is my friend, my family.”

“But you have a family… in Misthaven.”

“Who? A brother I have not seen in thirty years? Our parents are dead and I know nothing of David's life or yours, so how can I call Misthaven my home?”

“Because he still loves you no matter how much time has passed. And I have always wished I could’ve met you.”

“But I didn't even know you existed.”

“Well, you do now. We can be a family again,” Emma pleads with him, hoping she can change his mind. Surely life in Misthaven will be vastly better than his life here in Neverland as a servant to the Sultan.

“Emma, don't you understand, we can not leave this palace. This is your fate now, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you will be.”

“But I will never be happy here,” she snaps, growing angry.

“You will, Emma. You were chosen for a special reason.”

Emma rolls her eyes in irritation. “I would hardly call birthing the Sultan’s prince so I can then be tossed aside while he takes another wife, a special reason.”

James doesn’t reply for a minute, perhaps he knows she is right. She can almost see the gears turning in his head. “What if I told you, I can help you change that?”

Her eyebrows furrow together, displaying her confusion.

“I can help you get in his good graces.”

She scoffs in amusement. “I do not wish to be in his good graces, and even if I did, I do not need your help.”

“I’m aware. I’m not saying you couldn’t woo the sultan on your own. I can tell you possess all of the qualities he will adore.”

“Then what is it you are trying to say, Uncle James?”

He raises a finger to his mouth, shushing her as he looks behind him and shuts the door. “Let me ask you something, were you David's heir?”

“I am second in line. My younger brother is first.”

“So, your brother will be king, and if you weren’t taken from Mistahaven, you would've been a spare to the throne?”

“I was to be the queen of the Dark Kingdom,” Emma replies defensively. “I was betrothed to Rumplestiltskin's heir.” She tries to seem proud of her statement, but she knows she's not fooling him.

“And that is what you wanted?” he asks skeptically.

“Of course,” Emma huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

James raises a brow, not believing her.

“I would not feed you lies,” she claims while looking away from him to avoid eye contact. Even though she can’t see him, she can feel the heat of his stare burning her skin; she knows he isn’t buying her words. Not that it matters, for even if given the chance to return home, she would never again agree to a marriage with Baelfire.

Emma caves with a sigh. “No,” she mumbles quietly, reverting her gaze to James as she drops her arms to her sides. “The betrothal was forced; my fiance was a defiling swine.”

James nods gravely, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. “Well, perhaps being the queen of Misthaven or the Dark Kingdom was never your destiny, but what if you are destined to be the queen of Neverland?”

Emma eyeballs him suspiciously. “But there is no such opportunity here.”

“You are right. There currently is not, but you can change that.”

Emma cocks a brow and crosses her arms again, itching to hear more. “Go on.”

“If you can bear the Sultan’s heir, you will become bas-kadin, but if you can continue to keep his favor and give birth to several princes, you will rule the empire. No other concubine will be able to touch you. Not even the Valide Sultan.”

Emma’s eyes widen, her mind reeling at the possibilities. If what he is blabbering about is feasible, she could be the ruler she's always dreamt of being and she can change the empire and their barbaric customs. “Really?”

“Really.”

“And you will help me with that?”

“Who knows the Sultan more than I do?”

“I was not questioning your capabilities, I was questioning your willingness. What exactly would be in this for you?” she asks suspiciously.

James looks offended. “You are my niece, why must I need a reason?”

She studies him cautiously. “If this is a trick, I am in no mood. I have already been deceived and that is how I ended up here.”

“Emma, I have no reason to deceive you. In fact, I am risking my life by helping you. If people even find out you are my niece, I will be banished from the palace to avoid partisanship. The Sultan is the only one allowed to show favoritism toward any of his concubines.”

“I've gathered that much,” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Then you know how important it is that no one find out about this?”

She nods her compliance. Her friendship with James appears to be a promising one, and if all goes according to plan, it will only be a matter of time before she turns the tables and makes the Sultan hers. She will make him bow at her feet and submit to her every whim.

With this knowledge, she leaves the room and returns to the harem with a devious smile on her face.

Yes, she will make Sultan Killian her slave, and soon all of Neverland will be hers.

~*~

Later that day, Killian and James return from the Audience Chamber where Killian had conducted interviews with his army officers of high rank, learning that his father had left behind a large navy before he had passed. His mind is reeling with the decisions he will make at his first council meeting the next day as he goes to his study to continue the chess game he had started. He enters the room, James following behind him, and approaches the chess board, stopping abruptly when he sees the black pawn has been moved. He frowns, his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.

Perhaps James had seen the game Killian had started to play and decided to act as his opponent, although James would never open with this move. It is a risky one as opposed to something simple and safe—the complete opposite of how his concierge always played his hand.

Someone else must have done it.

“Who has been in my room?”

He turns to look at James who shrugs as he stands next to Killian and examines the chess table. “I’m not sure, Your Majesty. But whoever this person is, has certainly proved themselves to be clever because they have already equaled your position.” James laughs, but Killian is not amused. Instead, he looks angered.

“You are responsible for all that takes place in the palace, I want you to find out who is entering my private room without my permission.”

“And what shall their punishment be?”

“Just bring them to me.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

James begins to move about the room as Killian continues to consider the intriguing and daring move of his mystery opponent. Pursing his lips in careful contemplation, he makes his next move on the chess board.

Part of him wants to punish whoever is wandering into his study without his permission, but another part of him is curious as to how this person who dares to challenge him would retaliate if given the chance.

He looks up at James and fingers the chess piece, “On second thought, tell the guards if they see someone enter again, they are to let them in.”

James turns to face Killian with an odd look on his face. “Even if this person is one of the harem women?”

Killian raises an eyebrow at James and asks sharply, “Do you think it is?”

James affects an air of blase indifference, answering Killian’s hard question with a shrug, “Perhaps a maiden who is new to the palace? No one else would be so daring.”

Killian reflects on his friend’s words for a moment. Is it possible a woman from his harem is disobeying the rules and sneaking into his room to play chess? The thought entices him more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

“Well then, if it’s a game she wishes to play, I will show her how to win.”

@teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

#cs ff #cs ff au #historical fantasy #captain swan #early modern era #princess emma #sultan killian #the princess and her sultan #my fic

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withoutjoy · 5 years

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hmf

gasoline runs in pale blue veins; bright city lights, scratching of needle against vinyl disc, shouts of victory accompanying the kisses lovers shared with their loved ones upon returning from war. ivory skin made of cemented road and daunting skyscrapers. monochromatic is the photo that serve as the only reminder of homeland, where gunpowder is suffocatingly thick in the air and earth dyed red from the spilled blood of brothers in arms. mingfei has never fit in anywhere, not even in the comforts of his blood and flesh. his skin is too dark to blend in with the crowd when he walks in the main road. soil-colored eyes dull--boring, even, compared to the cerulean blue or forest green of his friends'. his black hair seem to be a stark contrast against the lighter colored hair everywhere he goes. but he understands.

he understands that he is different. he understands that it is okay to be different. he learns that it is better to retreat than to be deemed ill-fated. he learns that to get by he’d have to cast that identity aside by blending in. he understands and learns to accept that compared to the prismatic hues of this foreign land, he’s just an analogous scheme of beige, black and white.

( vibrant red with dark crimson, sunny yellow with elm, spring green with dull cherry-wood, and sky blue with thick grey )

he also understands that it is human’s nature to never be able to have their thirst quenched; no matter how many lives are taken, how many youth and old spirit ripped away from the warm embrace of their families, how much mothers starve just so their children can survive, humans will always be there to destroy anything in their path. to get rid of everything that shares a different view from them over a baseless paranoia.

and him being here--in a land far away from home--is the living proof. heck, he might as well call himself the very product and victim of war.

ii.

ironically it started when a life ended.

papa thinks he’s sick in the head. gege thinks he’s a morbid freak. mama is too busy rotting in her coffin to care, dawn-colored discoloration adorning her pale skin beneath broken ribs and damaged internal organs--a complete contrast to the white dress and lilies held by nimble fingers.

mingfei thinks he should be sad--or scared at least, but why would he be when his dreams have shown him worse things?

( his fingers bleed grotesque; vermilion jarring upon the dull white of paper. black outlines the shape of a woman sprawled upon gray concrete. a small car as if complimenting the lifeless body next to it )

so papa sends him to a place far, far away. no, not the place where you get your happily ever after, where the princess marries the prince. or the monster that threatened the town vanquished by the knights in shining armor. or the place where all the rainbows point to. no.

to the place where normal people fix people like him. where any methods are used in order to straighten crooked lines.

then mingfei thinks again; maybe, he can finally fit in somewhere after this.

iii.

the sensations hit him abruptly like a tsunami.

first, head up in cloud nine. vision swimming. mingfei lets the current carry him anywhere they want to. ignoring the buzzing sound near his ears or the poking on his eye. he sees the distorted blue of the sky with cotton white clouds. he sees his parents’ smiling faces when they arrived at their new house. he sees the colorful billboards scattered around in downtown new york. his mother smiling at him, mouthing “it’s going to be okay”.

second, the pain is sharp enough to cut through everything, even the daze inflicted upon him. brown iris dilates, light coming in too much at once. gauze obstructs his left eye. black locks are shaved clean. two pair of holes pierce both sides of his head, on top of his ears. his sight are blurry, no matter how much he tries to focus. how long has he been out?

third, confusion settles in. why is it still here? the man in the white suit promised he’s going to be okay. but if anything his ears catches the voices a lot easier now. the dreams gotten worse, to the point where he would wake up in someplace else that his awake state doesn’t even recall. faces seem like a disarray of oil color on wet canvas in his mind.

well, perhaps that’s what happens when one attempts to cure something that has been there from the very beginning.

fortunately, the madam that came to pick him up one day understands that clearly. her features lost in soil-colored hues, yet the red lipstick burns in the back of his mind as clear as the daylight. she picked him up like how a grandmother would to their grandson at school, warm hand enveloping tiny one as they walk towards the outside world. golden strands gleaming when the sunlight filters through them. he thinks her voice is croaky, but it’s not exactly unpleasant.

“you’re coming with me, young man. i’ll show you how unique you are.” she said, pearly white teeth bared while looking upon him. mingfei smiles back, ignoring the amount of bodies scattered behind them, their blood splashed on dirty green of the asylum’s interior. could this really be it?

iv.

miss heron is very nice to him. she lets mingfei eat delicious food until he’s full for two-times a day. never to raise her voice and always patient while explaining the things he doesn’t understand. she let everyone embrace their ‘peculiarities’ by encouraging them to utilize it, like listening to the dreams he has each night and putting him back to bed when he sleepwalks. its almost his first year of staying with her yet never once mingfei has been hit with a belt or a wooden stick whenever he missed a target with his knives during training sessions. and he is more than happy for that.

but what’s better is the amount of books in her library. it’s almost like a room of endless shelves, each one containing books mingfei doesn’t even know exist. from the illustrated storybook that miss heron would read to the younger kids in her orphanage to the books with difficult words in it. yixing decided that he’s fond of the psychology and medicine sections and would spend hours there even if it’s just to look at the diagrams.

he learns that the name of his peculiarity is extrasensory perception; esp for short. people around the nation has been conducting research on people with peculiarities like him, but some is skeptical and try to cure them by driving stakes into the patient’s head instead--just like what they did to him.

either way mingfei is pleased, because he knows he’s not the only one now.

it always ends as soon as it begins for him.

he was never one to lose his temper over things so easily, but the very composure he thought he possessed flew away upon finding out that the invisible creature that took miss heron’s eyes were the same runt that couldn’t keep his mouth shut during his reading sessions in the library.

he thought about abandoning the remaining children--he really did. but the responsibility of leading them automatically falls onto his hands as the oldest of the group. and who is he to say no if their caretaker herself decreed so in her last breaths?

so in the end mingfei gave in. the role as the guardian taken with a heavy heart and watery eyes. the task of finding loops for the other children to live in wasn’t easy, and there are sacrifices he had to make. but what’s that compared to a gratitude of a lifetime?

he’s all but sunken cheeks and hollow eyes when he stepped out of the last loop, leaving the last child for the ymbryne to take care of after five years of living in the streets. saccharine voice convinced him to stay, but mingfei rejects the prospect of living in momentarily peace if the same incident will only repeat itself again.

( he eventually stopped his travels and settled down in a loop somewhere in russia, though. twenty five and he becomes the headmistress’ most trusted keeper )

vi.

six decades of waiting for a chance to strike back, six decades of gritted teeth and clenched fist. his disease decided to make an appearance on the moment that counts.

it was just one, minuscule cut to his finger, courtesy of the throwing knife he hadn’t touched for so long. the cut wasn’t even deep yet the red that flows from it managed to put him into a state of unconsciousness for almost a day.

the headmistress’ voice is clear as the day even in his dazed state when she told him he’s not cut out to be a hunter, that he’s going to teach the ones that has the potential instead. empty eyes glanced at the spot on the wall across his bed, words lost to deaf ears save for the occasional mentions of ‘new loop’ ‘mara-do’, and ‘transfer’.

the world is so fucking unfair. but what’s new, really?

#profile #mine #peculiarity au #zyx fc

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crowntorn · 3 years

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PATH OF THE MONSTROUS PRINCE

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Since arriving at Camp Godspeed, things have been harrowing for the Son of Hera in some way, shape, or form. But there have also been moments of clarity, of peace, of enlightenment. Maybe it felt similar to his life before all of this, but maybe it has been better, too. Less darkness, more light. Except for what happened at the Trial of Deimos. After what felt like far too long in a nightmarish dimension, testing himself and his allies, AMADEO is back where he belongs. Perhaps he considers this his home now, at Camp Godspeed. Sleep doesn’t come easy like it sometimes would. There is too much on his mind. Fresh scars and emotional wounds from what they’d endured in the Trial of Deimos. Eventually, though, he finds himself drifting to sleep.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep, but when he wakes up, he’s not where he remembers he fell asleep. Was he sleep walking? Was this a dream? He opens his eyes and he sees something, a familiar landscape.

PLEASE DESCRIBE WHERE AMADEO IS. BE AS DESCRIPTIVE AS YOU WOULD LIKE.

Upon waking up, Amadeo rubs his eyes a bit and yawns. Ideally he'd check on Beauregard and Annabelle, then make himself some tea. Everything is shifted though. He's not on a comfortable bed, he doesn't have his hands wrapped around a his gorgeous lover, and he doesn't hear his companion sleeping either.

The ground is cold and with a couple of blinks, he realizes where he's at. Back in the small room next to the Church where he became a man. This part isn't open to the general public, hell he was barely ever there with actual clergy. This was the place Sandra took him to when he was a bit lost. Where she told him stories of ruthless leader, both royals and biblical. Where she made him into the man that he is now, the monster that he's become.

The tile on the ground is marbled, white for the most part with cloudy shades of grey going through. He stands up on his feet and looks around. Amadeo sees the white pillars that lead up to the high ceilings. He touches one and smiles a little bit, cold. There's a small desk that he used to use when he got ready for ceremonies, during which he was a young noble and not just a young boy.

After taking in a deep breath, the young noble walks over to the desk. Elements of gold coursed through it, something that he used to fight by constantly wearing silver. He sees his own reflections and remembers the conversations he's had in front of it with his stepmother. The rest of the room is adorned with vintage furniture, probably more expensive than comfortable. The top of the ceilings are filled with artwork and the windows are stained glass.

He's practiced his fencing, acted out blackmail, taken care of animals, this place made him into who he is today. That begs the question, why is he back here? How did he get here?

"Hello?" The empath calls out as a cautionary tale. He breathes in to keep his senses up, not wanting to be caught off guard. He doesn't have anything on him, but he has his mind. Hid deadliest weapon.

The room is gilded in gold, beautiful and ornate. It's for show, for status, and AMADEO knows that. The stained glass windows filter in the light from outside, creating a cascade of different colors that illuminate the white and gray veined marble flooring. Even with all its luxury, the room is as cold as it ever was.

Maybe that's the weight of his childhood, maybe it's just the temperature of the room. One can't be too certain.

He approaches the desk and calls out. No voice answers, only an eerie silence that hangs in the air, a stillness. Even with his mind, he picks up nothing. But he does see, upon a desk, written on old parchment paper folded in half where he was, perhaps, taught how to write those very same letters—black mail or otherwise—is his name.

The seals of the family come in gold or red. They're meant to burn the wax and stamp it onto every envelope that they find. Remembering this tugs a bit at the way Amadeo used to be, the life that he used to live. Since no one seems to answer or be present, he decides to bite the bullet. The coldness is as familiar as the colors mixing into the white. His eyes and weapons did that with opal shades when he used his powers.

Hesitating isn't something that he's in the habit of doing. He quickly pulls the stool back and takes a seat in front of the desk.

Upon sitting, he looks up at himself to see the man that he's become in the mirror. Then another deep inhale and exhale, he's opening the letter. Not only does he want to read the full thing, but he wants to see if he recognizes the handwriting. Maybe there's a clue as to why he's here?

AMADEO'S finger slips beneath the folded letter and opens it. The handwriting is beautiful, near perfection, as if practiced for years and years.

He recognizes the handwriting almost instantly.

A letter from Sandra.

WHAT WOULD SANDRA WRITE HIM?

As soon as it registers who the letter is from, Amadeo gulps down a bit. He reads it slow, taking his time to let the letters sink in.

‘Dear Amadeo, I've never spoken these words to you out loud, but I think I'm more proud of you than your father. We both know the truth, that you are not mine biological, but you're the prettiest thing I've ever ruined my darling. Victoria doesn't have the same fire as you do. She takes after your father, softer that way.

You? You're selfish. You can snap like a scorpion that feels cornered and that's why you're my favorite. If the pressure was on, I know you'd throw your own sister under the bus to save your own neck.

I'm proud that after all of these years of you calling me a monster, you turned out just like me. Wherever you are, I hope you're sinking your poison into their minds like I taught you. Emotions aren't just for the weak, but only the strong know how to twist and turn them.

Bring me back more than just your uncle's reputation when you're ready. - Love, your darling "mother" Sandra’

He sucks in his breath this time, pressing the parchment paper back down onto the cold desk. Part of Amadeo that he knows he can't be angry or sad. He was always more like his stepmother than his actual father. His kindness could be dwindled by his willingness to survive.

Sandra's always known that.

The words strike a chord within AMADEO. There's a truth that he's always known, but still, to this day, not many have witnessed it or known that part of him. But Sandra always has. She's the one who light the first match and ignited that fire within him.

Monsters always create monsters, after all. Monstrosities attract more monstrosities.

The words on the letter seem to fade away, as if the ink is disappearing into the parchment, like spilled ink before it's all just left blank.

Empty.

The door to this small side room, which was closed upon his arrival, opens with a click.

When the words seem to fade away, Amadeo doesn't even seem to care. They're true and he's always known them. Ever since he was 6 years old and thrown his sister under the bus, he knew he was just as much of a perfect monster as Sandra. Plus, sitting down and pondering wasn't going to change anything.

No, he has to keep on pushing forward. The click grabs his attention and he pushes the stool back.

Amadeo juts his chin out and straightens out his back. The imaginary book on top of his head will not fall. His confidence will not waver. The church does not have a martyr in their midst today.

He proudly swings the door open and steps through.

With his posture perfect, like a metal rod, straight and pristine, and his head held high, Amadeo moves through the door of the room he's known for so long. But as he steps through, he's no longer in the church. No, this room is different. Familiar, but different.

WHERE HAS THIS DOOR TAKEN HIM? BE AS DESCRIPTIVE AS YOU WOULD LIKE.

Stepping out feels like a breath of fresh air, quite literally. He's taken to another place that's been crucial in his upbringing. A couple of yards away from his villa is the first garden he's ever fell in love with. He's in the center of it where stone meets the ground, more tiled marble, but this time going around to make a small circle on the ground. Orange blossoms, lavender, apple trees, cherry bushes, and tulips all flourish around him.

The difference of this place and the previous one is that he could be alone if he wanted to be. No one came here to perceive him. They all knew who he was. They weren't strangers.

Beauty can be found in nature, but so can destruction. This is a middle ground to so many parts of his life. Nobility meets a child of the wild. Prestige meets an animal. He's fenced here, gardened, taken care of animals, blackmailed, hell he's even fought with his bare hands here.

The foursome he was a part of used to meet here. His family had picnics here, Sandra's influence still strong.

This is another part of his old home. Amadeo nods, resolutely, even though he assumes he's alone.

"I have to do whatever it takes to get back to my real home." He reassures himself. He'll rip off a door and overexert himself with telekinesis if he has to. That's why he starts to look around, further take in his surroundings.

The expanse of garden is beautiful, scenic. The different colors blend together to create a calming atmosphere, a place where Amadeo can come to think, be alone with his thoughts, and stew in his emotions.

But he realizes that he's not alone. Something catches his eye, sitting on the opposite side of the garden. It's still as a statue, casting a shadow on a batch of lavender that grows from the ground, permeating the air with the sweet, calming scent.

WHO OR WHAT IS THIS FIGURE? DESCRIBE IT IN AS MUCH DETAIL AS YOU WOULD LIKE. IS IT FAMILIAR TO HIM?

Just like his mind, he never knows what to expect. When he thinks he's with someone, he's alone. When he thinks he's alone, something else is there. If it was moving, Amadeo would have easily prepared for a fight. Since it's frozen, he steps out from the tile and onto the grass.

He travels to the lavender and tries to navigate around them. Then he squints his eyes when he looks at the figure and the shadow that it was casting. Can it be?

A scorpion, larger than expected. Something that reminds him of Sandra once again. Not only who she is as a person, but the selfish being she taught him to be.

Look like the frog, but sting as deep as the scorpion.

Technically it was the first pet that he had. She wanted to teach him responsibility, his father cautioned against him, but Sandra won out. Amadeo feels like he knows this one, for some odd reason. The telepath wonders if there's a connection.

"Hello? Can you speak?" He knows Greyson can talk to animals. For a short time, he could talk to shades. He doesn't put it pass anything anymore.

He taps his own pockets to see if he has another pill of genius on hand. "Do you know why I'm here?"

The scorpion is as large as a rottweiler. It's curled tail hanging in the air, poised as ever, almost like Amadeo himself. A prince with stinger attached. It doesn't move, it doesn't sway in the gentle breeze that washes over the gardens and spreads over the villa.

Not until Amadeo gets closer.

A set of eyes look at him, familiar ones maybe, and look into the windows to his soul. Then, a voice fills his head.

"Hello, Amadeo." The voice is crystal clear within his mind.

WHAT DO THE EYES LOOK LIKE AND WHAT DOES THE VOICE SOUND LIKE? DOES HE RECOGNIZE EITHER OF THEM?

The regal behavior of the scorpion makes Amadeo make sure he's still poised. He doesn't crouch to inspect it, even though he's curious. His back is still straight and his hands are crossed behind his back. If it wants, it can come to him. If it hurts him, his mind is his best weapon.

He's not scared though.

As he looks into the eyes he sees his father. The noble patriarch, the heart of the family, the one that reminds him most of empathy.

The voice that rings through his head reminds him of Sandra though, mixed with another tone that he can't quite pinpoint.

"Hello." Chin out, confidence pouring through. Amadeo doesn't look away, even Sandra can't make him fear his own mind anymore.

He speaks through whatever link has been established, mind to mind. "Care to tell me why I was brought here?"

"Is that who you really are?" The voice, Sandra's mixed with something else, a concoction of a voice he can't recognize or put a name to—ethereal—fills his mind. "Chin out, shoulders back." The warm, comforting eyes stare at him even now. It's legs skitter against the marble tiles as it turns to face Amadeo more.

"You're here for a reason, don't worry. But that reason is up to you to decipher and see if it's truly worth it." It begins to circle Amadeo, though not like a predator, more like a scrutinizing eye, trying to sum up who he is.

"Yes." If there's one person that he couldn't lie to in the pass, it was Sandra. The ethereal part of the voice fills him with an overwhelming sense not to beat around the bush either. Like they're important somehow. "A prince that doubles as a warrior. Regality and monstrosities melting together." Amadeo wraps his right hand around his left wrist. As the scorpion studies him, he doesn't move. He doesn't bend or crouch, only his eyes follow him.

"A heart accepting of many, but a mind critical of all."

He's both describing the scorpion and himself. His father, the heart, and Sandra the mind. His empathy, the heart, and his telepathy the mind.

Amadeo doesn't turn so that the creature can get a full view of him. "Then allow me to decipher it. If both of our times are precious, then we shall waste none of it. Correct?"

"I have all the time in the world." The scorpion responds as he finishes up his circle. The stinger waves in the air, a weapon as deadly as Amadeo's mind—perhaps the same kind. "A prince and a warrior. A royal and a monster." The scorpion's voice almost sounds as if it's smiling.

"An amalgamation of things, shards of your life you've glued together to create this version of yourself." It's stinger moves, tapping against the ground, sounding almost like a freshly manicured nail against the hard top of a desk.

"But is that who YOU are?"

"So this could take eons." Amadeo doesn't mean it to be sarcastic or bitchy, just pointing out the obvious. The stinger catches his eyes and this time, he does bow his head slightly down to look at it making contact with the ground. "Yes, that is correct." He looks back up, gaze not wavering from the being's eyes.

Since the stinger is technically a weapon, he wonders if he can do something. He focuses on his mind to try and form the weapon in a psychic form. Opalescent, pastel shades of multiple colors running through. Colors that stand for each emotion. Once again, an amalgamation. "That is who I am. I'm not going to deny it's who people made me out to me, shaped me to be, but I'm done running from it. In the debate of nature versus nurture, nurture happened to win with me."

If successful with the construction, he taps the stinger on the ground 3 times. A smirk forms on his face as he unfolds his hands. Amadeo taps his mind with one and his heart with the other.

"I'm a prince that is willing to do anything to survive. I betrayed my own uncle and ultimately it led to his death, but more money for my family. I snuck out of that room that night to see the truth of what happened to Arietta and had to deal with the consequences. I'm both mind and heart."

He drops his hands back down to his side. "The only difference is that I'm no longer running from the darkness that resides within me. I've made home with it."

The opalescent colors begin to form around the scorpion's stinger, an array of pastel shades that form a telekinetic barrier around it. With the slightest thought, the stinger taps the ground three times, the sound of the manicured point muffled by the surrounding barrier.

The scorpion stares at Amadeo, no emotions coming from it.

"Have you now?" The scorpion says before its tail lashes forward, as quick as a viper's strike, and slams against Amadeo's forehead, directly in the center.

After a moment, another version of Amadeo forms, coming from him in those same opalescent colors, only darker.

"This is the representation of the monster within you." The scorpion says. "Who are you without it? Show me who you are. Who you want to be!"

A part of him feels proud for being able to form the stinger in the first place. Yet, the unexpected catches him off guard. He nearly jumps when the scorpion's stinger connects. For a moment, he falls silent. He's staring at the darker form of himself. The true monster.

"Telling me to picture myself without it would be like having you live without your stinger. We're one, we've been through the same thing, but I will try."

Amadeo takes a deep breath as he tries to picture himself without the dark parts, eyes closing. He's had them for so longer that it does take him some time, but both of them have plenty apparently.

When he opens his eyes again he tries to manifest the 'brighter' version of himself next to the 'darker' one. Lighter shades coursing through. The telepath then continues, trying to bring up all of those emotions.

"I'm still not a hero, I'm still self-interested, but there is a difference." He nods. "This version of me tries to help through unconventional ways. It's the me that shifted one of Loki's memories so he wouldn't be afraid of goats. The me that took Malachi flying and Jordan to the gardens because I know they feel at home. The me that loves Beauregard for all of who he is, not because of his negative or positive traits. I could go on with examples, but this is the me that knows others. The me that can be in someone's thoughts without causing destruction."

Another deep breath. "I'm still a fighter, a warrior, but it's for peace. This me aims to soothe and put back together instead of tearing someone apart. The same wounds I'm capable of inflicting, this version of myself fights. Reshape memories to calm others. Fight the dark force in a fury's mind. Bond with a demonic goat because I see past her monstrous form, protect a beaten shade."

Amadeo then looks back to the scorpion, away from the versions of him. "It's the me that can feel other's emotions without getting lost. Sure, I help so my life is easier, but I still help."

The scorpion nods its stinger as if nodding its head. "Can one live without the other?" The scorpion asks. "Or are you this perfect balance? Monster and prince. Peace and violence."

The scorpion begins to circle him again, eyes intent. "Is that who you believe you are?"

"As much as I would like to believe I'm perfect, there's steps I need to cross before I get there." That still doesn't mean he isn't confident though. Amadeo crosses his hands behind his back again. "I do believe that I'm a balance."

Then he raises a brow at the scorpion. "Doesn't everyone have lightness and darkness within them?" He's genuinely curious now, he doesn't know the answer. "Do you?"

He starts to think about his do or die moments, when he's under pressure. "I believe I'm a balance because I have both inside of me. The subtle hand of twisting a thought or memory and the explosive effects of blowing something up." Which that all happened in the same quest.

"Not perfect and sometimes, the monster wins over the prince. Other times, the prince wins over the monster. I know that I have both inside of me. It's about time I ignore that fact. If I had to choose one over the other, if one had to win in a civil war, I can tell you it's probably the monster."

Amadeo sighs, another breath of honesty. "That is the nurture from my life speaking. Born to believe monsters always win because princes don't take the risks that are necessary. Maybe that's why I still believe that I'm both."

"I believe that your words are true." The scorpion says as it stops in front of Amadeo. "A prince when the time calls for it. A monster when the time calls for it." The stinger sways in the air before it rests before Amadeo's eyes, between them. "I believe I understand you more, Amadeo Prospero." The voice sounds more like Sandra's this time, like the monster within you as won and she's proud of it.

Perhaps she would be proud of him, just like she stated in her letter. Perhaps this has always been what she wanted with him. That seed of manipulation planted within his mind, the one that grew into the monster that lurks beneath the princely charm.

Amadeo unlinks his arms once more, but this time he doesn't touch his head or his heart. He moves his hand up to softly press against the scorpion's stinger. The telepath doesn't try to move it, but he isn't scared of it either.

Before he would have been scared if Sandra told him this out loud. Terrified of the man that he could become, or was becoming. Now, he knows that sometimes to reach goals some rules have to be broken. To win the battle, you have to be okay with risking some lives. "Thank you." He feels not only understood, but accepted.

Not everyone can accept the monster within as easily as the prince within, so it's nice to know someone can. "This may not be entirely diplomatic, but what about you? You seem to lack emotions in some moments, but sound like you're smiling the next. Who is the real you?"

He wants to get to know them. Maybe that'll help him figure out a way to go back home, or to understand what's going on.

"The real me is whatever you make me into." The scorpion says before the stinger presses against Amadeo's forehead. "Until we meet again." The voice echoes in the catacombs of Amadeo's mind, bouncing off the walls of memory as he wakes back up. It's a jolt, but he realizes that Beauregard is still beside him, back facing him, curled into the sheets. His heart is racing for some strange reason.

This felt different, this felt like a step forward.

Amadeo settles back into his bed and, after he's able to rest his mind, falls back into a dreamless sleep. When he wakes, he feels stronger, more rested than before, and even more at peace with the two sides of him: monster and prince. Something within him has been unlocked and he feels ready to take on whatever is thrown his way.

PATH COMPLETE

#& | 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 ! / extras.#scorpion tw #insects tw #just in case since they're in the pic!

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