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zwy01 · 2 months

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Noble OCs - Volo

More OCs from one of my four original noble clans, the Volo! They are the Clan of the Healers and their current Clan Leader is Zephyrus Volo, whose heir is his daughter Azurine Volo. Their clan’s soul weapon is crystal ball Octavio.

For complete info please check out the link below:

(Just a quick note, everyone is a noble here. There are no hybrids. In my headcanons “pureblood” and “non-pureblood” are just terms that nobles use with each other to broadly describe how affiliated someone is with their own clan. And I say “broadly” because there is much more to it and I think it deserves a post of its own. For now “pureblood” can be seen as a “strong enough and qualified to inherit the clan’s soul weapon and become Clan Leader” and “non-pureblood” as “an ordinary clan member” kind of thing. And being either has little to do with lineage and more of just the individual itself. Again, definitely posting more on that in the future)

Straight to the characters.

Hyacinthus Volo: Non-pureblood. Father/soul fragment donor of Ludis Mergas, husband/lover/friend (?) of Valentina Mergas. Alive in the present day, belongs to the Previous Lord’s generation.

Hyacinthus used to work under Zephyrus’ predecessor, the previous Volo Clan Leader, as one of the many Volo antidote researchers. He got kicked out eventually because he kept messing things up. He did things like throwing out his colleagues’ work-in-progress vials and potions because he thought they were trash, forgetting to do his part thus causing a failed experiment and indirectly forcing everyone back to square one, accidentally knocking over precious ingredients, setting the old records on fire… etc. Hyacinthus got a job as a scribe instead because that was the only thing they could count on him for. Despite his occasional sloppiness and forgetfulness, his fellow researchers couldn’t bring themselves to be annoyed with him for too long because he is a cheerful and amiable man. Outside of work, he is a great friend. His presence alone is enough to lighten gloomy moods and his friends sometimes compare him to a clear blue sky on a beautiful sunny day. Hyacinthus is neither extrovert nor introvert, instead something in between. He doesn’t need to socialize on a regular basis, but he never declines invitations. He’s “that” person nobles with little to no friends would always invite to their parties and events because they can count on him to show up. As a result, Hyacinthus is always busy. Want a hiking buddy? Will be there for ya. Don’t have a dancing partner? Sure can rearrange my plans. Just want someone to vent to? Will give plenty of hugs too. For this reason, Hyacinthus has a powerful network of friends who are more than willing to help him because the effort is mutual. Mostly weirdo friends because he’s one of the only people who would accept them for who they are, but normal friends too. He gets mountains of gifts piled at his doorstep and they still keep coming in. Hyacinthus is humble and tells his friends that they don’t need to give him anything, but they insist on showing their appreciation for him.

Hyacinthus’ hobby is button making. Buttons for clothes, buttons for toys, buttons for collection… just lots of buttons. He carves them from coconut shells, fruit pits, wood, and other common materials. He makes a button whenever there is a special occasion to keep for himself or to give away as a gift. Hyacinthus makes one for his son Ludis’ birthday every year and Ludis has a treasure box full of them. Each one of them has a unique design, and Hyacinthus continues this tradition for his grandchildren.

No one really knows what his exact relationship with Valentina is. They seem to be more than friends but there is no solid answer. Valentina doesn’t answer when questioned and Hyacinthus just says “guess”. Well, that’s going to remain a mystery for now. Hyacinthus misses Valentina very much since the day she entered eternal sleep with the Previous Lord. He too makes a button for her every year on the day they said their final goodbyes to each other, which is the day she died.

Ludis gets the blueish tint in his grey hair from Hyacinthus.

Rurik Volo: Pureblood. Uncle of Zephyrus Volo, father of Malati Volo. Alive in the present day, belongs to Gejutel’s generation.

Rurik was supposed the be the next Volo Clan Leader after his predecessor and mother as her then-only child, but he detested the traditional Volo self-poisoning antidote-researching training regimen so much that his mother had no choice but to have another child because clearly he was not the one. The training regimen is absolutely mandatory and has been the tradition since the Volo Clan came into existence, and rejecting it means forfeiting your right to succeed the clan as the heir. So be it. The position of Clan Leader eventually went to Rurik’s younger sister, who is the mother of Zephyrus. Rurik didn’t want to work alongside ordinary clan members as a researcher either, and in the end his mother couldn’t find a job for him within the clan and he became unemployed. During his youth, Rurik couch surfed a lot and his friends all thought he got disowned or something, but he actually left home on his own accord because he was too ashamed to face his mother and family for failing to fulfill his destiny. He just couldn’t do it. The pain and self-harm is too much for him. He can’t even comprehend how his mother and all of the previous Clan Leaders were able to put themselves through such torture. Rurik’s little sister seems to be willing to do it, and while he is proud of her determination, he also feels sorry for her because he is the reason why she was born. As his replacement, because he chose to escape from his duty. She wouldn’t have needed to do this to herself if he had more courage. For this reason, Rurik can’t seem to look at her in the eye either. He ends up avoiding his mother, sister, and clan members, and became a basement dweller who rotated between the homes of his friends. Fortunately, as an extrovert, he had many friends and they were happy to host their troubled buddy. Rurik eventually finds his passion in music composition. He settles down in a place of his own, far away from the Volo’s main residence because he still can’t bring himself to face his family. In the present day, Rurik writes music for Lukedonia. His work all sound sad, for some reason. Stunning and graceful, but sprinkled with melancholy.

Rurik is a decent fighter and has an extensive knowledge of buff and debuff spells. Despite leaving home at a young age, he worked very hard and secretly taught himself how to use magic as a Volo because he didn’t want to ask anyone for help as he was too embarrassed to do so. He doesn’t even know how impressive this is and continues to think of himself as a loser.

At some point, Rurik had his daughter Malati with an unnamed noble, presumably one of his friends who hosted him during his couch surfing days.

Aeron Volo: Non-pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to Raskreia’s generation. No one really likes Aeron. He’s full of negativity and brings that unpleasantness with him wherever he goes. His shortcomings are always the fault of others, and his life is miserable because the world is against him. Aeron has a normal family and his parents did everything they could for him, but he turned out like this anyway. Aeron ends up offending almost everyone around him and he has no friends. He never fulfills the promises he makes, he invalidates people’s achievements, and even goes as far as to say that his Clan Leader Zephyrus’ daughter and heir Azurine doesn’t deserve to become the next Volo Clan Leader just because she “ingests poison” and “makes cuts on her arms”. Anyone can do that. This would enrage his fellow clan members and if Aeron is lucky, he gets an intense scolding. If he is unlucky, he gets a violent beating. Only after they dare him take the poison Azurine takes on a regular basis does he learn that she is doing something incredibly selfless for the greater good of all nobles. Aeron almost dies, and drops to the floor screaming and writhing in pain until they give him the antidote. You thought that was bad enough? That’s not even a third of Azurine’s daily dose. And the antidote to this poison only exists because she put herself through this pain in order to analyze what it does to the body to come up with countermeasures. Aeron finally realizes how much of a fool he was. He’s still unpleasant at times, but he has been humbled and no longer speaks like that about people, especially his future Clan Leader. Aeron’s issues aren’t completely gone yet, but at least he doesn’t invalidate people’s achievements anymore. He even starts to develop a sense of admiration for Azurine. Eventually, with hard work, Aeron discovers that he has some talent for debuff spells. Turns out his nastiness was rooted in his insecurities all along, and hey, he’s not completely useless either.

Aeron is currently training to become a knight, and hopes to become strong so he can serve his future Clan Leader, the Lord, and Lukedonia well.

Esther Volo: Non-pureblood. Entered eternal sleep, belonged to Lagus’ generation. Esther was an eccentric woman. She had a conspicuous sharp-pitched giggle and an unusual obsession with scissors and cutting things up. Her clothes, the curtains, the books on the shelves, the flowers on the hillside… even herself. More like she found pleasure in ruining things and then returning them to their original state like nothing had ever happened. This just felt so romantic to Esther and she never had any other hobby. She cooed and baby talked to things as she cut them up. The vibrations that traveled from the scissors blades to her hands with each and every snip excited her more than anything else. The more the material resisted, the more ecstatic she became. Eventually Esther moved onto cutting off pieces of her own face, fingers, and even legs. Slicing her own cheeks off was just as fun as feeling her femur split into two. Her delicate, soft fingers were nice as additional decorations to the flowers in her vase. Gives it an extra pop of color. And that’s what being a Volo meant to her. She’d just use healing spells on herself. Rinse and repeat. With inanimate objects, she used basic restoration spells. The nobles were aware of Esther’s obsession and most stayed away from her, as they were scared and suspected that she would cut them up too. Those were just assumptions, of course, because Esther never messed with other people or their belongings. She only experimented on her own possessions and body. Reassuring to hear, but doesn’t make it any less creepy.

If Esther considered someone as her friend, she would invite them to her home and show them her massive scissors collection hanging on the wall, arranged by size from small to big. Those who didn’t run away became her best friends.

Esther wore poofy floor-length dresses throughout her lifetime and hid all sorts of scissors under layers of lace. Sometimes the nobles could hear the scissors clack against one another as she walked. She eventually entered eternal sleep because she had already cut up everything she could find in the world and had nothing exciting to look forward to anymore.

Malati Volo: Pureblood. Daughter of Rurik Volo, and cousin of Zephyrus Volo. Alive in the present day, belongs to the Previous Lord’s generation.

Malati is confident and imaginative. As a child, she always went around asking “why?” to every question she could think of. The adults thought she was just another curious child, but in no time it became apparent that she was dead serious about it. Malati didn’t want to live at home with her less-than-confident father Rurik who somehow always avoided her questions, and sometime during her teenage years, she moved to Titus Paradiso’s library tower Minerva and has lived there ever since. Malati misses her father, but knows better than to hold back her true potential to keep him company… plus, he seems more interested in his music anyway. He wouldn’t miss her, it’s okay. Or so she thought, because she was a bit saddened when he didn’t really have a reaction when she announced that she was going to move out. Well, she’s better off chasing her dreams than staying at home with such a mood killer. In a way, Professor Titus felt more like a father figure to Malati, as he would always be brimming with enthusiasm whenever the two of them talked about newest discoveries. Titus and Malati have a close relationship, and when the former’s twins Anabella and Anastasia are born sometime in the future, Malati becomes family to them. The twins call her “Auntie”.

Malati’s current goal is to figure out exactly how two soul fragments merge together to create a new soul, which is the nobles’ way of having children. The old records don’t offer any clear explanation either. The nobles only know that it happens, not how. The mechanism behind it remains a mystery to this day. Malati wants to get her hands on a physical soul fragment so she can dissect it or something, if that is even possible at all. Maybe she’ll eventually discover a way for nobles to have children through soul fragments without having their lifespans reduced so parents can spend more time with their children. Perhaps it is ambitious, but Malati is hopeful.

Eventually, Malati and her father Rurik reconcile with each other and it is revealed that the latter chose not to respond to his daughter’s questions because she was a brilliant child, and he was afraid that he would drag her down because he didn’t have the confidence to match her excellence. Rurik thought that Malati would be disappointed in him like the rest of his family since he was the failed heir. The two of them talk out their misunderstandings and share a tearful moment. Rurik asks Malati if she wants to move back home, which would become an offer she rejects gently because Minerva is her home now. Understandable for both father and daughter, so they exchange letters to keep in touch. Rurik sends Malati his newest sheet music, and she shares with him her research progress on various topics. While they don’t completely understand what each other is talking about, their exchanges are filled with affection.

Malati is currently working to find an antidote to reverse lifespan loss for nobles who had children.

Malati’s partner is a Paradiso scholar.

Thank you for reading and stay tuned for future posts!

#noblesse #manhwa #myart #original character #oc #hyacinthus volo #rurik volo #aeron volo #esther volo #malati volo

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touyasdoll · 3 years

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From the Ashes

BNHArem's Mythology & Folklore Collab Masterlist

So excited to present my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab! Please be sure to check out all the other writers & artists who are part of this collab and their pieces, because they are all so incredibly talented.

I’ve never really done any AU content before, so I am very nervous about posting this one, but I’m absolutely in love with all things mythology and this idea of doing a modern take on Cupid & Psyche (also known as the basis for Beauty & the Beast) for Dabi struck me immediately, so I had to give it a shot! I hope you enjoy it 💙

Minors DNI

Pairing: Cupid!Dabi x Psyche!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, smut

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: contains dark content, kidnapping, mentions of violence & homicide though none is depicted, manipulation, toxic family members, arson, enji fucking sucks in this bc I’m still on the endeavor hate train if you can’t tell, the slightest yandere vibes from Dabi, drugging, stalking, language, derogatory terms directed at females

AU Background: In the modern day world, quirks are incredibly rare and the powerful families who are lucky enough to possess them are regarded as gods; the type who are quick to anger and reluctant to forgive. The Todoroki family has a long, historied lineage of remarkable quirks that has allowed them to amass great wealth and influence. Nothing happens in their city without them knowing about it and no one dares to question their authority, lest they face the wrath of their rumored to be psychopathic patriarch.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion. I told you to take care of the bitch.” Enji barked at the perturbed man before him. “Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time you thought you had a bright idea? Or are those disgusting scars of yours enough?”

Dabi pressed his lips together, closing his eyes as he bowed his head in submission, “I’ll handle it.”

“Good. Don’t return until you’re sure she’s gone,” the fiery tyrant brushed past his despondent son, taking a seat at the large wooden desk within his lavish office.

Dabi spun on his heel, pushing the door open with his eyes cast down before fisting his hands into his pockets. The brief sound of a high heel clicking across the floor drew his attention to the hall, where the one he barely regarded as his mother anymore stood cowering behind a corner. She opened her mouth to speak, her tongue heavy with good intentions and her eyes watering with a sense of sympathy that she never dared to convey out loud, but nothing became of either. A common pseudo-interaction between them these days.

With a huff, he continued on his way strolling through the dark, ornately decorated hallway. He was so tired of this. He’d quickly grown weary of behaving as his father’s lapdog, doing all of the dirty work that the prestigious Enji Todoroki couldn’t risk being seen sticking his hands into. He’d considered telling his old man to shove it, but whenever he considered his next move, he didn’t know where he would go. His father expected as much and took full advantage of his begrudged servitude, all the while treating him as less than ever since the accident. Not even his siblings had ever come to treat him the same as they had before, but he suspected that was largely due to parental influence. Though that didn’t make it sting any less. He knew that his mother was petrified to put herself anywhere near the matter and he couldn’t exactly blame her for that. Not when he knew the feeling all too well.

He wanted to run, to start his own life somewhere new. Somewhere far from the influence of his father and the painful memories that put an ache in his bones every time he set foot within the family estate. But again, where could he go? His father would know long before he set foot across the county line and he knew that he wasn’t his only lackey. There were some far more gruesome than he and he shuddered to think of having to outplay one or more of them as a means to escape.

At least it wasn’t all bad. He’d have to remind himself of the bits of good fortune he did have when his mind threatened to slip too far into despair. He had a home of his own to seek reprieve when his services weren’t necessary. A means of living, even if it wasn’t admirable work. Even if it tormented him. He had everything that he needed to keep him alive to see another day. Though most days turned out to be lonely, he was still a breathing, thinking human being. One with the capacity to hope that one of his tomorrows might be a little less lonesome.

He could return to his pity party later. For now, he had a job to do, though he had rolled his eyes at the request. His father was certainly slipping into a deeper shade of madness as of late. That was evident upon his demand that he run some poor young girl out of town, simply because he had deemed her too attractive for her own good. Well, run her out or simply dispose of her, as Enji had phrased it. He never shied away from advocating for the most final of solutions, but Dabi couldn’t ever bring himself to do it. He already looked like a monster, he didn’t want to complete the transformation in that regard.

He already felt subhuman considering the things that he’d done in the past. The smell of singed flesh and the screams of Enji’s enemies were burned into his psyche. He hated resorting to violence. Most of the time when he showed up, the target would take his warning at face value. Everyone knew the rumors about what the Todorokis were capable of and most didn’t want to find out if they were true, so they ran without a second thought. Others, the stubborn and the woefully ignorant, had to be persuaded. Unfortunately for them, Dabi hadn’t inherited his mother’s patience.

Maintaining power was easy when your family held the city in their pocket. Politicians were purchased. The police were on payroll. It was insane how much you could get away with when you had the right amount of cash. Of course, if the bankroll from the family business wasn’t enough persuasion, there was always the promise of ice and fire coming to claim you. That alone was convincing enough for most. The financial compensation was Enji being generous to his collaborators for never batting an eye when a would-be competitor’s building went up in flames that burned so bright they blazed blue.

A heavy sigh left his chest as Dabi sank into the leather seat of his black Mercedes. He understood that he was seated in the lap of luxury and he often felt sick for being so resentful of it. It could be worse, he supposed, letting his mind drift back to ponder his unique situation as he navigated his way through the city streets. But he was unwillingly shackled to this splendor. Dragged along in the darkness, crawling in the shadows cast by the picture perfect image of his family who he could no longer claim was his own, by his father’s own order.

He shook his head, an attempt to shirk his pathetic stream of consciousness and put himself in the proper headspace to do what he did best. Terrorize. Intimidate. Subdue the threat.

But were you a threat? He narrowed his eyes in your direction, watching you from the parking lot as you sat sipping coffee in front of a local cafe with two women who looked too much like you to not be your sisters. Though they didn’t have quite the same striking features that attributed to your ethereal beauty. They would have looked average had they not been seated beside you, but the direct comparison made them look almost embarrassingly plain.

He hadn’t understood Enji’s insistence that you were too pretty for your own good, but he did now. You were the most beautiful sight that he had ever laid eyes on. You looked so harmless. So soft, innocent, and sweet. He felt compelled to you. All you’d have to do is say the word and he would happily do your bidding without explanation. He’d do anything to catch your favor. And therein lies the problem. You had that effect on most men.

Which wasn’t a crime, until you’d caught the attention of Fuyumi’s betrothed at a work function. Apparently seeing that pretty little face of yours had struck enough doubt in his mind to call off the engagement that Enji had worked so tirelessly to make happen, because he wasn’t above coordinating a merger through means of his only daughter’s hand in marriage. In Enji’s eyes, you were the only thing standing in the way of his ultimate goal, so you had to go.

But looking at you now, Dabi didn’t think that he had it in him to run you off, let alone approach you. He didn’t deserve to be in your presence and he surely didn’t want to cause you any harm. All he wanted was to sit there and look at you. To watch your delicate features scrunch up as you let out a giggle that could easily pass as a song to his ears. He’d listen to it all night long if he could, but it was cut short by the handsome man who approached you. The obvious attempt that the man was making instantly wrought Dabi’s lips into a scowl as he kept a careful watch over the exchange.

The stranger had his best smile on his lips, an attempt to charm you as he sauntered up to where the three of you were seated, but you would’ve thought your sisters were invisible by how he seemed to pay them no mind when he interjected himself into your conversation. The smile disappeared from your lips while worry creased your brow and Dabi felt his palms grow warmer as he gripped the steering wheel. He cracked the window to see if he could catch wind of what the man was saying, but all he could hear was you politely telling him that you were busy having an evening out with your sisters before he nodded and backed off with an apology. At least he wasn’t a jackass, Dabi noted.

Your sisters, however, seemed to be more affected by the interaction than you were. Their attitudes shifted as soon as the stranger stepped away, both of them sneering in your direction, taking turns making asinine comments about how the only reason you got so much attention was because you looked like an easy fuck. How you had nothing between your ears, but thankfully you were at least pretty enough to maybe have a chance at snagging a husband. Otherwise, who would want you once your youth faded? You were worthless without your face.

Dabi’s blood boiled. He couldn’t bear to listen to another disdainful lie from their petulant mouths. He pulled on the door handle, popping it open to slip his leg out, but he halted when he saw you rise, hurriedly pushing in your chair to make an escape from their vile words.

He slipped back inside, watching as you half-jogged to your car, leaving the cackling witches behind you. Nerves bloomed in his chest. This was it. He was supposed to handle this, he was ordered to handle this. His mind jumped to the thought of abandoning the plan altogether. He could just turn and run now, leave you be and try to finally make a break for it. But in the back of his mind, he knew that was futile.

His father would run him down. He’d only maim him further and force him back to work or worse, he’d just have him locked up and throw away the key. Not to mention, Enji Todoroki wasn’t one to give up on something once he set his mind to it. He’d have you removed from this city one way or another and Dabi had serious doubts that anyone else would treat you with any modicum of respect or restraint. No, any other one of his father’s goons would likely have their way with you before they either snuffed you out or ran you screaming out of town and he couldn’t let that happen. There was only one viable option. He had no choice but to take care of you himself.

///

It was a song and dance he’d performed many times before, ambushing someone when they were most vulnerable, alone and in the dark of the evening. He followed you at a safe distance, though he doubted that you paid enough attention to check if you were being followed home after a coffee run. He weighed his options, considering what he would ultimately do the whole way there. Contemplated whether or not he’d be honest with you or just take you the way he took everyone else. It might be easier if he just subdued you first, right? You were sure to scream, especially if you saw his face.

His face. He couldn’t let you see it. He’d be too disgusted with himself to even face you. That settled the debat; he’d just wait. Bide his time until he was sure you were asleep and then he’d break in and knock you out before you even had the chance to awaken. He didn’t want to frighten you, certainly didn’t want to risk hurting you. He didn’t want to do this at all, but in all the time that he sat waiting in his car, only a few houses down on the quiet street, he couldn’t think of another option.

His heart was thundering when the time came. Thankfully, everything went smoothly. He entered without incident. No alarms, no dogs. No signs that you had even stirred in your sleep by the time that he crept into your room. He took a moment to stop and admire your beauty up close.

You were even more breathtaking at this proximity. There wasn’t a single flaw that he could find hidden within your features, which looked truly heavenly under the romantic blue light that the moon cast through the sheer curtains hanging over your bedroom window. He readied the syringe in his hand, fighting with himself as he lifted the point to your neck and closed his eyes, unable to bare to watch as he pushed the sedative into your veins.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes to study the rise and fall of your chest. His heart skipped a beat as he waited for your lungs to inflate again; he was petrified that he’d hurt you somehow, but then your chest rose, the gentle sound of your slow, steady breathing filling the still air of the bedroom. He breathed a sigh of relief, gingerly scooping you into his arms to whisk you away.

This was anything but romantic, but he couldn’t help but to let himself pretend that he was your knight in shining armor for just those few seconds. Standing in the pale moonlight, staring down at your peacefully sleeping face. He allowed himself to pretend that this was a tender moment between lovers, instead of some insidious act performed by a monster.

///

A thick fog clouded your mind when you awoke. You struggled to crack open your eyes to peek at the sunlight pouring into the room. Struggled even harder to keep your lids afloat. You felt strange, like there was a film crusted over your brain that you couldn’t quite break. Your hands felt around for your cell phone within your sheets, but these—these didn’t feel like your sheets.

Your eyes snapped open, painfully adjusting to the light as you tried to take in your surroundings, which you were certain now that you didn’t recognize. The air was robbed from your lungs, you clutched at your chest, pulling on the nightshirt you’d worn to bed the night before as you contemplated what to do next, but you came up empty. Your mind was racing at a million miles a minute, but your body was frozen where you sat.

Glancing around the expansive room, you could see that it wasn’t some dank, dark dungeon, but a well-decorated modern space. The walls were a pale gray and all the expensive looking furniture and decor only seemed to exist in black and white. A deep voice suddenly shook your from your observations.

“I know that this sounds terrible, but please don’t freak out. I’m not going to hurt you.” You searched for the source, finding it on the far wall, near the large french doors that you assumed led out to the hall. “I’m trying to help you. I know how fucked that sounds, but I just need you to hear me out. Okay?”

Your breathing became ragged and uneven as your eyes remained trained on the little white box, until the disembodied voice rang in your ears once more.

“I can hear you if you press the button. Are you okay to walk? If not, there’s a mobile intercom in the bedside drawer.” The voice sounded almost..concerned? But this..this had to be your kidnapper, right? Kidnapper. Oh my god, you’d been kidnapped. Fear seized your heart yet again as you scrambled out of the bed, rushing to the little white box to slam on the button and scream, “What do you want from me? I’ll give you anything. Anything, just please let me go!”

Dabi’s eyes shut tight, his brows knitting together as guilt ripped through his chest. He stared at your frantic motions in the monitor, watching as you beat your fist against the bedroom wall. He couldn’t see the tears, but he could hear the sobs spouting from your lips as your forehead fell against the drywall.

“Listen to me,” his voice shook, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Listen to me. I didn’t want to do this. I’m so sorry, but you have to believe me when I say that this is the best alternative to what could have happened to you. I’m trying to protect you, Y/n.”

“How do you know my name?! Who are you?!” You wailed, growing more frantic by the second as you slammed your palm against the wall, tears streaming over your cheeks.

It was destroying him inside. He didn’t want this. Never wanted to hurt you. He’d made every effort to avoid that, but he understood that you must be terrified. He couldn’t even imagine what was racing through your mind, but he wanted to do what he could to soothe you, so he offered you bits of the truth.

“My name is Dabi. I work for Enji Todoroki.”

The name sent ice through your veins. You stopped colliding your hand with the wall and lifted your head to shake it, now trembling in an even deeper sense of fear, “N-no. No, please tell me that you’re lying. I..I-I’ve never done anything to them! Please, I-I’ve heard all the stories.” You sobbed, your thumb shaking as you held it to the silver button. “Th-the disappearances, but I’ve never..I don’t even know them!”

“Ssh, ssh,” he hushed gently, your trembling frame and fear stricken voice would have driven tears of his own over his mismatched cheeks, had he still had the tear ducts to produce them. “I know. But your boss does. That office party a few weeks ago. You were there, weren’t you?”

You wracked your brain, searching for the mundane memory. “Y-yes..I wasn’t supposed to be. His wife couldn’t attend. It was just for the higher-ups and their spouses, so they could socialize and do whatever fucking bullshit they do at those God-forsaken get togethers. I..I was only there because he’d insisted. But I hardly spoke to anyone! What could I have done wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything, doll.” He swallowed, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Enji’s daughter recently got engaged to your boss’ boss. He took such a shine to you that night that he called off the engagement, which in turn, upset my boss. Unfortunately, Enji has gone off the deep end, but I’m not him. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to protect you from this mess. I didn’t know how else to keep you safe other than to bring you here. I’m sorry, princess. I know this is..a lot, but I’m telling you the truth here.”

You blinked, letting your thumb slip off the intercom as you stumbled back to the bed, sinking down into the soft mattress to stare off into the gray paint on the wall. You sat there, running the events over in your mind. Trying to picture who you had even spoken to that night. There was nothing of note in your memory. You were just a secretary, you had no business being there, no reason to be spoken to. And here you were, held captive who knows where, because the boogeyman was out to get you over something that you didn’t even do? It was crazy. Insane. Unbelievable.

Unbelievable. That’s the word that rang through your mind, over and over as a laugh bubbled in your throat. Unbelievable. You scoffed, laughing heartily as you tried to shake the unthinkable from your mind. The most powerful man in the city wanted you gone and this stranger on the other end of that little speaker box was your only hope? It read like an overdone novel, but you didn’t have much choice aside from turning the page.

You blinked back to your sordid reality, remembering the instructions about the mobile device in the drawer, which you pulled open to find a small, white remote. Simple controls. Push to speak and a couple volume buttons. You pressed the silver button in the center.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m the only hope ya got, doll.”

///

The first few days were the hardest. Despite Dabi’s overwhelming attempts at hospitality, you chose to stay curled up in bed for most of the first week. He had explained time and time again that you were more than welcome to explore the grounds, so long as you never entered his room.

Apparently, you were nestled in a mansion, far beyond the city limits. His personal home. There was a fully stocked kitchen, a library, a cozy living room, an impressive backyard complete with a pool, and even a private garden, according to him, but you hadn’t ventured outside the room.

He’d taken the time to describe your captivity activity options in detail, insisting that if there was anything at all that you couldn’t find, he’d retrieve it for you. He’d already ensured that your closet was full of an impressive wardrobe and pestered you to learn your favorite meals, so that he could ensure he obtained the correct ingredients for them.

He'd even successfully made some of them for the meals that he would leave outside your room like clockwork, three times a day. He’d check in on you from time to time, promising that he had shut off the security monitors in your room, which he had. He insisted he’d only had them active to watch for when you’d first awoken, because he didn’t want to leave you panicked in a locked room, which you weren’t sure if you’d believed, but he had seemed rather remorseful when he explained himself.

It seemed like he was trying. Between the various gifts he’d leave at your door and the little tidbits of himself or the world outside that he would share with you from time to time in an effort to make conversation, despite how stupid he felt whenever he tried. It seemed like he was telling the truth about his intentions after all, but you were still reluctant.

He sounded remorseful anytime his voice rang through the walls. Always apologizing. Always trying to explain that he only wanted to keep you safe. Telling you how vehemently he disagreed with his employer. How he was so desperate to leave, but he was trapped himself. In a different manner than you, of course, he confessed. He swore up and down how he wished that he could just let you return to the life you knew, but he knew that you wouldn’t be safe outside of these walls, where no one would think to look for you.

You didn’t know if those words brought you comfort or inspired more fear. The wrath of Enji Todoroki was nothing to laugh at, but you missed your home, your life, and your family, despite the way that your sisters treated you.

In a moment of weakness, you’d clutched the little white remote tight in your hand. Crying into the receiver about how even though your family were so cruel to you sometimes, even though your life was nothing spectacular, and even though your house didn’t feel quite like a home with how empty it felt having you as it’s only occupant, you still missed it. You still longed for what you knew, because at least you had hope when you had options. Here, you had nothing.

You weren’t sure if he had heard you. If he was waiting on the other end of the line, until you heard him clear his dry throat, followed by a confession of his own. Another apology poured from his lips, but not because of something that he had done. He offered up a sincere apology for the way that you felt about your life back at home and made a promise that he understood precisely what you were feeling. That peculiar notion of missing something that you knew wasn’t all that great to begin with, but you couldn’t help but be affected by its absence, because it was all that you’d ever known. He whispered his condolences to the hope that you had been holding onto and admitted that he’d had to let his own hope die a long time ago.

That was when you first genuinely considered that he was telling you the truth. Maybe it was the Stockholm syndrome hooking it’s claws into you or maybe it was your self-detrimental need to see the good in people, but you wanted to believe him, to commiserate with a soul as sorry as your own. So you tried.

“C-can I see you?”

He balked at your question, you almost repeated yourself, unsure of if he’d heard your query until he sputtered, “N-no.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean, ugh. Listen, I’m not..I don’t look anything like what you would expect, doll. I don’t want to scare you anymore than I already have.”

“I doubt that you could,” you scoffed, daring to let yourself genuinely laugh for a beat. “I’m not going to try and run or trick you or anything, I just..I just want some company.”

He paused, closing his eyes as he mulled it over, or pretended to, rather. He couldn’t fool himself, he didn’t want to say no to this. You were asking for his company. His. Sure, you didn’t have very many other options at the moment, but it meant a great deal to him nonetheless.

“Okay. On one condition.” He agreed, inevitably.

“What’s that?” You perked up, sitting up straighter in the bed as you cradled the device in your hand.

“You can’t look at me. Lights out. You turn one on and I’m gone. Okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled, and though he couldn’t see it, he could certainly hear it, feel it. Feel as it spread the first bit of warmth into his chest after such a long drought without anything of the sort. “That’s fine. I can do that. I promise.”

///

That evening, a gentle knock came to your door. You sat up in the bed, clicking a few buttons on a remote that killed every light source in the room, leaving you stranded in inky darkness.

“Come in,” your voice was more timid than you intended. A symptom of the nerves.

One side of the french doors creaked as it swung open and then shut again. You couldn’t see the figure in the room, but you could hear them; the quiet sound of socks on hardwood.

“Hi,” his deep voice was even smoother than it was over the intercom. It sounded the feeling of running your hands over thick velvet, leaving your skin pricked with goosebumps with only a single word.

“Hi,” you responded meekly, drawing your knees to your chest to wrap your arms around them as the man shuffled across the room to sit in the chair along the far wall. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re too nice for your own good, aren’t you?” He spoke suddenly, his question sounding more like an accusation.

“W-what?”

“You’re thanking me, the man who’s keeping you here, for coming and paying you a visit in the dead of night.” He explained, a scoff leaving his throat. “Why? How do you know I’m not here for my own selfish reasons?”

“I..I-I don’t know, I just--,” you paused, anxiety bubbling in your chest. Was this a good idea? “I mean if you wanted to hurt me, you’d probably done so already, right? And what you were saying earlier, about how you understood what I was talking about, I just,” you shrugged, as if he could see. “It didn’t sound like you were lying.”

Silence fell. There was nothing to stimulate your senses while you held your breath, anxiously awaiting a response that finally came when he let out a long sigh.

“I wasn’t,” he smiled sadly to himself. “And I won't lay a finger on you, doll, I swear. I guess I’m really just asking myself why I’m even in here at all.”

“Aren’t you lonely?” You shocked the both of you with your inquiry and quickly tried to rectify your rudeness. “I’m sorry. I just mean, I know that I have been. People aren’t meant to be this alone, you know.”

A bitter laugh greeted you from the darkness, “I’ve been alone for a long, long time, sweetheart. I’m used to it.”

“Being used to something and being okay with it aren’t the same thing.” You brought your knees down, shuffling in the bed to bring yourself to sit on the edge.

Dabi’s eyes snapped to where you sat, wishing he could catch just a glimpse of you. His jaw fell open, but no words met yours. He didn’t have them.

“I should know,” you swallowed, tasting the sour memories crawling up the back of your throat, clawing their way to your tongue, begging to be relived.

“Your family isn’t very kind to you either.” He stated empathetically, “I know. I heard your sisters that night.”

“You..y-you were there? At the coffee shop?” You clutched the edge of the mattress, nervously wrestling with the sheets between your fingers.

“Yeah,” he sighed, feeling like a creep once again as he rubbed his face, kicking himself for saying anything. “I overheard the awful shit they said to you. Which was all incredibly incorrect, by the way. At least from what I can tell. Obviously, they’re jealous, but I don’t know where they get off thinking it’s all right to be such fucking bitches about it.”

You laughed quietly, unable to stop the sound as you listened to him gripe on your behalf. It felt good to make such a joyful noise after a week of barely making any noise at all.

He was pleasantly surprised to hear the melodic sound, smiling softly in your direction as he clarified, “I’m sorry. I guess I don’t really know ‘em, so maybe I can’t judge. But from my own experience with shit family members, it just seems like an accurate call.”

“Oh, no, you’re spot on.” You laugh again, but there's a twinge of malice behind this one. “They’re cunts. That’s, uh. That’s no secret. But they’re still my sisters,” you sigh. “My family really believes in that whole blood is thicker than water adage, which is a crock of shit, because no one can stand one another. It’s like they’re all just resigned to be bound to these people who they can barely tolerate when they have to and they’ve roped me into the same con.”

He scoffs, “That is a con. One that you don’t have to subscribe to. Forgive me for sounding like reprobate yet again, but from what I can tell, you’re a sweet girl. Smart too. You don’t need cunts like that dragging you down, family or otherwise.”

“Thank you,” you dangle your feet, shrinking yourself at the praise that stirs something inside your belly. Something that you certainly didn’t expect to feel this evening, warmth. “What about you though? You haven’t said much about them, but it sounds like you don’t exactly look forward to family gatherings.”

“Oh, if only you knew, princess.” He chuckled, deep and dark, and you could feel the vibrations across the hardwood floor as your toes touched down. “My family is a horror story and somehow I always end up being pegged as the monster.”

“I’ve always believed that most monsters are just misunderstood, personally.” You rose carefully from the bed, taking a cautious step forward. “Are you a monster like Ted Bundy or a monster like Frankenstein’s?”

“W-what do you mean?” He readjusted in his seat, clearing his throat to evict the waver in his voice.

“I mean,” you ventured closer, unable to ignore the strange, alluring pull that drew you nearer to the mysterious figure in the chair, “Are you an irredeemable predator who uses his charm to prey on young women for pleasure?”

You were almost close enough to touch him now, near enough to hear the way his breathing became unsteady. “Or were you only made to believe that you’re the monster when you’re really just a victim of someone else’s crimes?”

“I..I don’t--,” he shook his head, his voice breaking in two as he contemplated your words. He wanted to accept the salvation that you were offering to him. He never wanted to do the things that he had, but he’d still done them.

That was enough, wasn’t it? To make him the monster that he'd always believed he was? Why weren’t you afraid of him? Why were you standing so painfully close to him now? So close that he was able to recognize the perfume he’d gifted you wafting off of your neck, adding to the dizzying spiral in his brain.

“Frankenstein’s monster still did terrible things..” he clutched the arms of the chair, his knuckles paleing at the force of his grip.

“To the real monster of the story,” you knelt before him, blindly reaching out to find his hand in the darkness to ghost the pads of your fingers along his knuckles. “But he helped those that he could. He even saved some poor girl that he didn’t even know.”

You lifted your hand away when he flinched at your touch, speaking softly as you continued. “I’d sooner call him a hero for that. He wasn’t a monster at all, he just needed someone to save him from himself.”

He swallowed the sob bubbling in his chest, grateful for once that his tears could never come. His fingers spread out, cautiously trying to connect with yours again. When he found them, he wove his digits through yours and instantly felt as if he could breathe a little easier. Like an immense weight had finally been lifted off of his chest as he let out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and almost broken.

You smiled sadly, looking up at the silhouette of his frame that you could just barely see now that your eyes had adjusted to the dark. Why was he so afraid to show you his face?

Your pressed your palm to his and had to catch yourself before you let a gasp slip from your lungs when you felt the cool, metallic ridges. He flinched again, trying to slip his fingers out from between yours, but you held fast, tightening your grasp.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, swiping your thumb against his, unfazed by the metal that you found there as well. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m not afraid of you, Dabi.”

“You would be if you saw me,” he whispered, feeling forlorn and fragile, smaller than he ever had. But he allowed a small spark to light in his chest as he replayed the sound of you saying his name in his mind.

“Looks aren’t everything, you know. They don’t matter to me. Not in the least,” you brought your other hand down carefully atop his, sliding your fingertips over the back of his hand, moving to begin to drag them over the differently textured skin. “May I?”

He inhaled sharply and paused, his hand trembling between yours as he let out an anxious sigh, “Yes,” he agreed, gripping the arm of the chair tight within his other hand as you let your fingertips glide along his arm.

You moved slowly, delicately soothing the skin beneath your touch. You dragged your fingers along the sleeve of his shirt, over the soft skin of his collarbone, then cool metal and scarred skin again.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You stood slowly, hunching over him as your fingers danced over his neck to slide along his chin.

He could hardly breathe. He could feel your breath on his face as your warm hands skimmed over his cheek to slide behind his ear and into his hair, so that you could hold his jaw in your palm. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he sighed, closing his eyes, letting himself finally relax as you held his face in your hand. He leaned into it, letting his desperation to be touched in this way show and he didn’t seem to care anymore. He didn’t care to question it either; he just needed more of this. He felt like he would always need more of this.

You smiled softly, bringing your other hand up to assume the same position on the other side of his face and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his hand around your wrist, stroking his thumb against it slowly as you leaned in, giving in to that mysterious but powerful pull that drew you into him. You kissed him tenderly, half-expecting him to flinch away, but he didn’t.

He drew you closer, wrapping a thoughtful arm around your waist, bunching up the nightshirt that you wore as he pulled you into his lap, leaning in to the kiss to deepen it as he helped you settle across his thighs, your knees pushing into the plush upholstery of the chair when you straddled him.

Then he couldn’t ignore the thoughts permeating his mind, threatening to soil this perfect moment. He didn’t deserve this. He ought to push you off of him and head back to his room, but he couldn’t find the will to do so. He was lost, plummeting into unfamiliar territory that he never thought that he’d tread.

It felt so good just to be touched without someone jerking away from the texture of his skin, but to be touched like this, so gently. And to be touched by you? He was gone. Falling headfirst into the deep well of a daydream turned reality that he’d somehow stumbled himself into and he had no desire to climb back out.

Your arms encircled his neck while your fingers knit into his hair, moving up from his nape to cradle his head in your hands as your lips moved against one another’s. His hands found purchase on your bare thighs and you shuddered, moaning into his open mouth as his thumbs pressed on the innermost part of your thigh.

He pulled your lips back to his by taking your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it briefly while he let out a groan as you ground your hips on top of his, sending blood rushing to the tent in his sweats that was rapidly growing against the front of your dampening panties.

“Dabi,” you mewled breathlessly, earning another wanton groan from his chest that vibrated against your own before he claimed your swollen lips once more. He slipped his hands over your thighs, hooking his fingers beneath them to carry you to the bed.

“You don’t have to do this,” he panted, pressing his forehead to yours as he hovered above you.

“Please,” you implored him sweetly, splaying your fingers across his cheek while you lifted your lips to crash into his, speaking against them between breaths. “I want to.” You sigh softly, brushing your bottom lip along his, “Let me show you that you’re not the monster that you think you are.”

He sighed through his nose, a soft groan reverberating against your lips as his tongue slipped between them. You took that as permission and then it was a race to have the other undressed, your mouths barely parting as you stripped each other down in the darkness, using your hands to explore one another’s bodies, to become familiar with the uncharted territory that neither of you could wait to lay claim to.

Your blood was boiling, pooling in an unbearable heat between your thighs that you were desperate to extinguish. You couldn’t wait any longer, but he still seemed hesitant, despite how your bodies were writhing unabashedly against one another, so you took control.

You pressed your palm to his shoulder, pushing him on to his back, so you could straddle his hips. Leaning down, you sat forward to stroke his throbbing member, angling it just so as you kissed him hard and dropped your hips onto his length.

“Oh my God,” his back arched as your walls claimed all of him, his hands flying to your hips. His fingertips dug into your supple skin as he held them, thrusting up into you while your hands fell on his chest.

“Dabi,” you moaned, throwing your head back as you rutted your hips to meet his thrusts. You were so completely full, your walls contracting around his girth while the inertia amplified the way the head of his cock kissed your cervix. It was all so much. Too much, too soon.

“Dabi, oh fuck. O-oh my GOD. I-I’m gonna--,” You whined desperately, hurtling towards a full-body orgasm, a sensation you’d only felt once in your life before, but one that you recognized immediately.

“Fuck, baby, I know. ‘M so close. So fuckin’ close,” he growled, slamming into you even harder as you bounced helplessly on his cock.

Your orgasm hit your like a freight train, every nerve set ablaze at once as you wailed, a sinful song of transcendence that echoed off the walls like a celestial chorus.

He joined you in nirvana shortly after, your spasming walls catapulting him over the edge as he cried out and spilled into you, fast and fierce. The mess dribbled between your intertwined bodies, leaking out of your quivering hole and onto the sweat-soaked sheets beneath you as you collapsed on top of him.

His arms folded around you as if it were second nature, like something you’d rehearsed a thousand times before as you both lay there breathless, no longer able to consider yourselves strangers.

Thank you for reading! There is more of this story to tell, so I will be making a part two. Please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed 💙

And please go & check out the other works from this collab! Masterlist is linked in the intro 💙

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closer-stars · 3 years

Text

Heart of Depth (4)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU Word Count: ~5k Requested: Sort of yeah Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. some history, some typical genshin shenanigans. Mild Violence. Mentions of death Note: Surprise lol. I’ve been working on this fic at the same time as gut feeling hence the speedy posting, part 5 to be posted soon. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus

Part 3

Yeosang’s friend, Hongjoong, arrives at your shop today. He waits for you and Wooyoung patiently by the door. Well, you assume it’s Hongjoong based on his mannerisms. He didn’t seem like the men Wooyoung had to fight the night before. The two of you approach your shop carefully: the grip you have on your keys were tight, Wooyoung’s stance was low enough to not get weird glances but low enough to give him enough force to jump should it not be him.

The male notices the two of you and greets you politely. “Hello, I’m Kim Hongjoong, Kang told me about your need for assistance.” The introduction puts your guards down. You remember Yeosang’s description of the male, around Wooyoung’s height, eyes that seem inquisitive, with wavy hair that seem to frame his face. If none of these events had happened, you would’ve assumed he was a model with how he carried himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself and Wooyoung, as you open the shop for the day. Not even a few minutes after, people start pouring into your shop-- some of them with obvious relief on their features. They speak of their worries of the shop having closed down or you and Wooyoung not doing alright. All of which are shut down with reassurances. As the three of you go about with the orders and other needed rituals, you teach Hongjoong the ins and outs of your shop, what to press to make certain types of coffee, how to make foamed milk and so on. “Oh and if you want to create any dishes, feel free to do so. Some of Wooyoung’s creations are on the menu as well.”

Throughout the day, the three of you try to get to know each other more, even asking Hongjoong for tidbits about who Yeosang and San really are and who he really is. He answers simply about himself, a Dendro holder, whose blood is similar to that of San’s. “So how old are you?” Wooyoung asks.

“Younger than San, older than you.” It was a simple answer but enough to give the two of you an idea of how long he has walked the earth. It also explains his oddly shaped pupils but perhaps a detailed rundown of his lineage is for another day.

Wooyoung returns to where the two of you are, just in time to get the gist of the conversation as you guide Hongjoong through making an iced macchiato. “Yeah and most of the earnings made from those dishes go to you.” He eggs the other male on with a cheeky grin on his face. Hongjoong, catching onto his antics, releases a light laugh after having made enough milk foam for the order.

“I’ll consider that.” You let Hongjoong pour the order into a plastic cup for the customer. You don’t miss the lingering gazes from the women as well. Maybe having an attractive barista could help with the sales.

--------

You were back running business as usual. Only since that incident, you had to start closing a little earlier than usual. You had to write on your small board that you’ll only be able to be open until 5PM every day for the next few weeks due to personal reasons. Wooyoung spends the rest of the day in the studio, though he gets creative with the journey there-- using various train lines, or even walking through different streets just to make sure he doesn’t become predictable from the Abyss. He was more worried for you though. Hongjoong as well, walks with you usually: either walking the two of you to your apartment or elsewhere, just for safety. It was part of the agreement after all.

For today the shop has to close early, at least he can be reassured that you’ll be safe with Yeosang for tonight. “Damn, you really dressed up for tonight huh?” Wooyoung muses as he leans against the counter. Hongjoong lingers around Wooyoung’s side. For the entire day, Wooyoung gave the older male a rundown of your relationship with Yeosang-- at least the parts you forgot to add, which generally was the romantic aspect.

To be fair, you did put a little more effort today hoping that Wooyoung wouldn’t notice unless you wanted to be teased. Your blouse, though it can be easily wrinkled, hangs on your body well. It’s also one of your favorites simply for how it feels cool to the touch. You were wearing slacks as well, not your usuals for comfort and practicality but today, knowing Yeosang’s preferences when it comes to dates, it was better to just dress up. “Shush.” You chide him, wrinkling your nose at his teasings. “I know he’s seen me in just shorts or joggers when I’m working but considering it’s a date…” Until now, whenever you say that you’re going on a date with him, your heart beats a little faster. “I figured I might as well... “

The mischievous glint in Wooyoung’s eyes softens just a bit as he snickers at how flustered you look. “Don’t worry about it too much, the two of you have really good dynamics. Guess you could say there’s a spark” He rests against his elbows this time. The pun doesn’t go unnoticed by Hongjoong. “Have you even seen how he looks at you? That guy’s really smitten.” There was also a hint of curiosity behind the soft gaze Yeosang carries for you. He wonders what it is, but if there’s anything being an electro user tells him, it’s patience. “Besides, your shop has garnered a bunch of loyal customers now. They don’t mind the early close especially for personal reasons. At least have fun tonight.”

You look at the clock. It won’t be long until he picks you up from the shop then. “You already know how to lock up this place right?” It won’t be long either until Wooyoung has to head to the studio.

“Of course. The keys are with me and the extra set of keys are at home.” He rolls his eyes in jest at your concern. “Do you have Regalia with you?” He returns.

Regalia’s the name of the bracelet you’ve been wearing since day one of living with Wooyoung’s family. One of the last few things you’ve kept from your family that he’s aware of. He doesn’t usually mind you not wearing it during work but with the recent events, you can only assume this is for your peace of mind. “Yup.” You raise your wrist to his view, and he sees the cool toned beads adorn and accentuate the silver charm that rests just above where your pulse is.

Your vision was peaking under your top, just by your waist, not wanting to bring too much attention to your capabilities but still wanting to stay on the safe side. Underneath the calm facade, lies the same person who’s still wary of everything since then. A figure catches his eye by the door. It’s Yeosang, this time wearing a cream blazer under a simple printed white shirt and dark gray pants and ankle boots. He always manages to make you feel a tad bit underdressed with his fashion sense. You envy Wooyoung’s nonchalance to the fashion differences, then again, Wooyoung’s been confident in his own style. That’s what got him to where he is now.

Just as you were about to ask Wooyoung a question, he beats you to it. “Yes, you look fine. Now go and have your date.” He shooes you off with a wave of his hand. You shoot him a look of mild annoyance for his ability to see through your facade. So with that done, you grab your things on top of the counter and wave him goodbye.

“Call me when something comes up okay?”

He says nothing but shoots you an okay sign, making sure you focus on the man who’s been waiting for you like a lovesick puppy by the door.

Just as you step out of the shop, you’re greeted by a warm smile from him. It’s interesting how that smile made him look younger when he’s already thousands of years older than you. It just comes with the whole Archon responsibility, you suppose. As you approach him, he hands you a bouquet of various flowers-- peeking above the flowers, you see his cheeks bloom into an endearing pink.

“Yeosang what’s this for?” You ask, the wrapped flowers in your hands has you dumbfounded. You weren’t sure if it was a double peonies but you’ve definitely seen this before somehow. You knew that this was a rarity but how he managed to acquire them at the height of their beauty at this time of the year was a feat for you. “What is this?” A white flower, not yet in full bloom, is surrounded by simple greens and hyacinths. You gaze at them for a moment, before returning your gaze to the man in front of you.

The tips of his ears shine bright pink, a stark contrast to his black-blue hair. “I thought you might appreciate another type of flower to be in your shop.” You can’t turn down this gift. Double peonies have been something you would usually see online. To know that these are real ones and they’re in your hands, it was truly an experience. “Neve Jewel.” He answers your question softly

You look at him for a moment, shocked at how he got this flower for you. “How often should I water them?” You ask as you try to look for a vase or a spare pot that you would plant them in for the time being in your shop. You’d love to bring home a sapling of this down the line.

“Every three days.” He says after clearing his throat. If he didn’t, he would’ve stuttered through the tip. The look of pure glee in your eyes made him think that getting you the flowers was a good decision, at least it was good enough to make his chest feel warm. As you look through the pots in your shop, you realize there’s no space for them: looks like you’ll have to carry them for the entirety of the date.

He offers you the crook of his arm, for you to hold onto for the rest of the date. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask as you gently hold onto his arm as he offered. The night was still young and there was so much they could do and for all you know he might pull more surprises.

“Well, for starters, you have the freedom to choose what we eat tonight. I figure it’s only fair to let you choose this time as it was my choice last time.” That’s right, you remember the last restaurant being expensive and him being able to pay with ease. A small part of you wonders if he could cover your further studies or help with the studio Wooyoung also works in.

The power to choose makes you hum in thought. Truthfully the decisions were countless. “How about pizza and pasta? I know a place you might like.” A short pause. “Well, we can look at the menu and see if you like it, if not we go elsewhere.” You offer.

You hate to admit that ever since knowing Yeosang’s the Archon, you started seeing him in a slightly different light. Maybe it’s your insecurities? Wondering who else did he love before you. Was it your jealousy? Wanting to know what he knows about this world and perhaps beyond-- along with his financial security. It can’t be helped, there have been times where you gave up something you eyed for more important things. Living on your own isn’t easy but at least you work at your own pace.

“Something on your mind?” Yeosang asks softly. He doesn’t want anyone listening in on them as he starts noticing fleeting glances at either you or him. It didn’t take much for him to know that your thoughts were running again. Your hand felt loose in his arm, and your footsteps felt like they were floating. It was funny to him how you reminded him of them yet still be your own person.

“Ah?” You hummed, blinking a few times to get back to reality. “Nothing too pressing, just curiosity over how life has been for you since Day 1.” You admit. You know of their existence: of Archons that bestow these visions, of beings that are half human, half something, or even not entirely human that walk with you. To be in their presence though, is another topic entirely. “Along with the chances of meeting the likes of your kind.”

He flashes a small smile at your honesty. “I see. All of which are understandable thoughts. I suppose I can tell you a few stories over dinner.” He promises. There’s something comforting in how he carries no hint of resentment, but it leads to more curiosity of what he has buried in all these years. “If time still permits today, I’ll show you some places that hold significance to me that people nowadays do not know of.”

“You say a lot of promises, Yeosang.” You note teasingly. As you do so, you gesture to the restaurant that you had set your eyes (and stomach) on. “Check out their menu first?”

He looks at the restaurant and chuckles. “My dear, San always pesters me about this place. I don’t eat here as often as he does but trust me, I have no issues with tonight’s choice.” He would come here often for San’s favorite especially after a long night of dealing with awry beings that try to wreck havoc. It’s enough to get him through a few hours until he crashes.

His words reassure you and thus, the two of you enter the premises, finding comfort in a booth, away from any eyes that could wander. After the orders have been made, you were left alone with him once more. From your place, you could watch people walk past the restaurant on one side, while the cars zoom past on the other. Yeosang lets you look around for a moment before he starts telling you some of his stories. “So which one would you like to know about?”

He answers your questions to the best of his ability. Yes, even if people try to recreate the food from the past, it’s still not the same, not even with the same ingredients, things just naturally changes over time and he has come to accept that. His current favorite is fried chicken though, even better if it’s the half-half type. He tells you about a plot of raised land on the other side of the river. You weren’t aware of this story: how that was initially something like a mountain only for him to flatten it with the force of water after an immortal being thought they were greater than the heavens that made them. He admits that the immortal was a dear friend of his who had changed as time passed them by. A god of earthquakes, he tells you. “So with that in mind, it’s impossible to fully wipe out any archon or immortal being.” Your inquisitive and sharp mind warms his heart. Humanity’s curiosity is their greatest downfall. Yet, this is what pushes beings like him to protect you and your kind. It’s what has kept your species going.

“Yes and no. This dear friend of mine, he can’t..” he trails off as he tries to find the right word, tilting his head in thought. “His material body cannot come back but his essence lives on. It explains the tremors we feel occasionally.” Some gods are forgotten as well, buried deep in the oceans he rules in where only the darkest parts of humanity’s consciousness can only remember. Yet from time to time, occurrences happen that tell him that there are people that still remember. Fortunately, before the discussion gets any depressing, the food arrives and he takes this chance to know more about you and anything you’re curious about with these flowers that rest on your lap.

He asks you about the latest social networking apps, he has the basics of where most people are but the other apps that entertain certain niches intrigue him. Though you didn’t have all the answers, he was sure he’d leave this restaurant knowing more than before. He finds out that your passion for baking and making different types of coffee came after you saw Wooyoung struggle juggling his dance team and studies. The daily expenses of buying coffee eventually build up over time so you take matters into your own hands. Now, you’ve got a shop up and running and the rest is pretty much history. He respects you for that. The Archon also realizes that perhaps San was right with this restaurant. Another restaurant to add to his options in the days to come.

The rest of the dinner goes well, lasting for two hours before the two of you decide to leave and walk around somewhere quiet. Somewhere that the two of you could get away from the constant bustle of modern life.

The walk to the quieter side of the city was a fruitful one. The conversation between the two of you never stops as each of you try to understand each other-- especially with you trying to understand his roots along with his riches. “So, you being.. An archon.. Is that how you were able to get that apartment?” You understand that he’s not quite immortal, having the ability to die as well but he does have the ability to live longer than most. You learned that gods can die, but deaths caused by humans have resulted in violent natural happenings.

“Yes and no.” He answers with a slight tilt of his lips. “Some of the objects from the historical collection are mine but I had to pull some legal strings to make the public think it’s from someone else, and for the stockholders to continue funding the museum. Some of them have been bought and sold through me to older gods and Archons who have passed on, some archaic family clans as well and so on.” He hints towards other groups with money that have helped fund his museum and keep them safe, though through less than morally ethical means. Simply put, the museum has helped him amass a big fortune with one part going to his anonymous safety for reasons and the other parts going to other necessities of the community around him.

Something stirs in you to explain something to him. “I suppose I owe you a story as well.” You admit softly. You start to tell him about your family life, how you grew up in a family that was passionate about their jobs: your father, a historian while your mother was a fairly known ceramist who also had a passion for what your father pursued. It’s through the attempts of recreating the pottery of the past that made their names fairly well known in those days-- also making you have a keen interest and skill in the history and the arts. Your father came across certain writings, unfamiliar to the academe but familiar to those who were interested in the taboo. He and your mother got too close, from what you understood. The pursuit of making connections and knowledge cost them their life. They made sure you were safe from everything, keeping you hidden from the perpetrators.

Wooyoung’s parents were close to yours, it took forever in a child's mind before they found you, hiding in a closet with the Regalia in your small hands. Once they found you, they made sure you didn’t see the aftermath. Their urns rest in a quiet columbarium out of town. Since then, you grew up with Wooyoung’s family. It’s not the same as having your actual parents grow with you but they did their best to step into their roles for you and for Wooyoung. “It’s been years, and I’ve learned to cope with the absence so please, don’t worry about me.” You reassure him. You’ve been so accustomed, so annoyed with the looks of pity given to you by others who know this story-- which are usually by word of mouth.

He lets his eyes wander around the scenery in front of him. The way the lights bounce against the water, the quiet hum of people milling about by the water. His eyes catch sight of a small family letting their kids play about by the water. The way you talk about your family makes him wonder how you were like when you were younger. The you he knows now is different from the you Wooyoung has known since he was a child. You don’t step into the same river but water always passes where it came from. Simply put, you are still you. Heavens be damned, because he’s enamored by you.

As you tell your stories, your eyes catch a glimpse of the same family. There’s something in your chest that twists that you cast your eyes downward. The flowers were still in your arms, you didn’t want to leave it in the stale air of the car.

He sees you look down at the flowers, your fingers fiddling with the wrapping and some of the petals. “Feel free to ask questions about them, my dear.”

Giving you that green light to ask immediately had you talking. “Okay, first question, How? I thought this didn’t exist anymore?” You remember the first dinner you had with him, how he bought a painting of the said flower and told you how rare it was. So how did he manage to get an actual one?

He finds a bench, away from people that were there for perhaps the same reasons as the two of you. He pats the spot next to him for you to sit down as well to which you oblige. Once you do so, he looks up at the sky, seeing the faint shimmers of the stars above. The waters will continue to move to a near unrecognizable state yet the stars no matter how much they move, they still look the same. The man next to you tries to figure out his words, but eventually he just decides to say it plainly. “I had the same thoughts as you, about its existence. San was the one who notified me of its reemergence. He found it growing in the museum’s garden, in full bloom every night.”

You stare at the lone blooming flower in your hands, wondering if there’s more in the garden, but one question suddenly nags at you. “Why did you give it to me when you’re heavily attached to this flower?” You were flattered, you can’t deny that-- a rare flower from someone who has been fluttering your heart? That was a unique way to be courted Yet, the lapse in thought bothers you, a rare flower that he obviously holds dear to him, given to you? What made him think of this?

“They were someone dear to me as well.” He starts. His voice takes on a more sober tone, making sure you were comfortable leaning on his shoulder. “A dear immortal as well, just like San and I.” It takes a few moments of silence for you to understand the gravity of their relationship. “They were someone well loved by the people, taught them how to handle resources on an economic point of view with other regions, taught them handiwork beyond that of warfare, a lot of things that were out of my field to put it simply..” He has already accepted and forgiven himself of his shortcomings to become someone like them at that time. “Their favorite flower is this, my love.” He says, his fingers fiddle with the edge of its wrapper. “Everyone associated it with them.” Despite the harsh cold that ice gives, it was also a time for trust. When it was too cold, they’d make shelter out of ice and various twigs and fur. If it was too hot, they provided them with cool winds. It’s why the Neve Jewel glows as such, depending on the season.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t protect them at their time of death.” His eyes stay still at the river that quietly flows past them. “Their last wish to me was to make sure the people survive the journey. Weird isn’t it? The god of water protecting the followers of Ice.” He rests his temple against yours. “Eventually after their passing, Neve Jewels ceased to exist. Until you came along.”

“Yeosang?”

“Mm?”

“What if I’m not them?”

“Yeosang, you know you need to be prepared to accept the fact they might not be your previous lover.”

It’s a question he’s considered since he met you. He admits, it wasn’t easy to consider accepting that you might not return. He remembers the concern in San’s face when he was still so hopeful.

“Of course, grief never leaves you. It always stays with you, you eventually learn how to live with it.” He tips his head in thought, acknowledging the weight of the concern.

You didn’t want to cry here: not when the date was going so well. A soft chuckle leaves your lips to loosen up the tight feeling in your chest. “Mhm, I guess so.” It’s a half hearted answer you have to admit but it was better than letting the silence cue the tears.

“But if you let me, I’ll still love you the same.”

A deep breath loosens the pulsating pain in your head from the unshed tears. “I guess life does work weirdly.” You add under your breath, leaning against his shoulder as you fiddle with the wrapping of the gifted flower.

He readjusts himself to make sure you don’t get uncomfortable. There’s something in your words that tells him, it would be better to shift the topic. “I’m a little disheartened that i never got to tour you around the museum but that’s alright, one of these days, I’ll bring you around, show you my favorite works and tell you some stories behind them.”

“I’d like that, sounds like you got a lot you’d like to share too.” You muse softly, taking in the scent of nature and him.

“I catch you lingering by the entrance sometimes.” Even though he has invited you and Wooyoung to stay in the museum’s offices with him for the sake of safety, you’d just linger by the souvenirs. You remember Wooyoung proposing the idea of having a small shop next to the souvenirs, but you shot it down. It’s not because you don’t think it’ll do well but because who else will manage the shop? Hongjoong’s a good candidate but until you’re certain he’ll stay after this mess.

With how everything is going, you wonder if he finds time to rest. “Please, you’ve got a lot on your plate. I’d rather not add to that, Yeosang.” You say with a breathy laugh of embarrassment.

“You know that I don’t mind your presence.” He’s been spending his hours with you after work for the past few months. “I wouldn’t have asked you on a date, if I did mind.” He tilts your chin gently to look at him.

His eyes, holy shit, you could drown in how they look: shades of blue with hints of green and streaks of white. The ocean resides in this man and you’d be damned if you didn’t feel yourself melt in his touch. “If it still isn’t obvious, my dear, I would like to ask you, if you are willing to be my lover?”

Something flashes at the corner of your eye, and it’s coming straight at you.

#my writings #yeosang fanfic #yeosang series #ateez series #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez au #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #imagine this part with the previous part #too much would have happened in one chapter and i didn't want that

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aliandrasrhoyne · 4 years

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The Women Who Walked The Desert

Whenever we think about GoT the first thing that comes to mind is dragons, ice zombies and the disaster that was the final season. But only readers know that it has been inaccurate since they decided to write a storyline without its main pov. And yes, I’m talking about Dorne and Arianne Martell.

But despite its many failures, there was only one thing pretty accurate, the location. They chose the Real Alcázar in Seville, one of the many monuments erected during the 800-year period in which arabs dominated the peninsula and multiculturalism was appreciated in the bib-ramblas as 3 different cultures coexisted in the same caliphate.

Today we’re going to take a look at The Queenmaker and analyze her caricature as that of her family relationship and love affairs with that of other relevant figure in the culture of Al-Andalus for being the most important poetess.

Wallada bint al-Mustakfi

Her father rose from his chair to kiss her on both cheeks. "The fate of Dorne goes with you, daughter," he said. [...] She did not shed a tear. Arianne Martell was a princess of Dorne, and Dornishmen did not waste water lightly.

Like Arianne, Wallada was a princess and the daughter of Muhammad III of Córdoba, one of the last Umayyad Cordoban caliphs.

"You know me, captain," Arianne had said, as the leagues rolled past. "You have known me since I was little. You always kept me safe, as you kept my lady mother safe when you came with her from Great Norvos to be her shield in a strange land.”

Wallada’s mother, Amin'am, was brought from the distant lands of Hungary. But if we look closely, Norvos has a lot of similarities with Budapest;

Situated among the hills of Norvos, on a tributary of the Rhoyne, a major river on the continent of Essos. / Budapest sits on the eastern edge of Transdanubia (a hilly region extending from the Danube to the Alps).

Gateway for caravans travelling on the ancient Valyrian roads. / Budapest being situated at the crossroads of international trade routes from Eurasia.

Norvos is a city is split in two, the High City which is on a hill and the Low City on the river. / Budapest is split in two. Buda sits on the hills on the western size of the river while Pest sits on the plain to the east of the river.

Norvos is surrounded by small walled villages supporting the main city. / King Bela IV ordered the construction of stone walls around villages after the Mongol invasion.

Home of the bearded priests. / Order of the Dragon & Order of Saint George

There were Myrish carpets on the floor, red wine to drink, books to read. In one corner stood an ornate cyvasse table with pieces carved of ivory and onyx, though she had no one to play with even if she had been so inclined. She had a featherbed to sleep in, and a privy with a marble seat, sweetened by a basketful of herbs. [...] She found a cedar chest full of her clothes at the foot of her bed, so she stripped out of the travel-stained garb she had slept in and donned the most revealing garments she could find, wisps of silk.

Dorne's economy was able to keep them independent from House Targaryen for so long, but how is that possible when they don't have gold mines like the Lannisters or agriculture like the Tyrells? Very simple, the use of water to plant unique fruits that need a warm climate like citrus or olives and the trade relations they have with Essos. Being descendants of the Rhoynar, they have a closer contact with the Archon of Tyrosh or the merchants of Qarth. That’s how Doran met Mellario in the first place.

In Al-Andalus, an irrigation system was also created that went through the subsoil of the Caliphate and thanks to arranged marriages, they won ivory and silk brought from distant China. This is the case of Wallada's mother, being the daughter of a merchant who offered his services in exchange for his daughter rising to a better social position by marrying the caliph.

The decline of the caliphate would begin with the Ottoman-Hungarian wars (1366) that blocked many trade routes and the caliphate soon began to weaken as it was surrounded by enemies (Christian kingdoms in the north and Berbers in the south), which would later generate a disintegration until they were reduced in the Nasrid Kingdom of Granada (1230-1492).

However, Prince Doran did not mean for her to wed a Dornishman. [...] When Arianne reached the age of marriage, Doran presented her with several suitors, all of whom were elderly lords (including Ben Beesbury, Walder Frey, Gyles Rosby, Eldon Estermont, and Hugh Grandison), while rejecting an offer from Lord Hoster Tully, who had invited Arianne to travel to Riverrun and meet his heir Edmure. Arianne refused all of the elderly suitors.

Wallada’s father, Muhámmad III, came to power on January 11, 1024 by assassinating the previous caliph Abderramán V. This generated a turbulent reign, since many didn’t agree that he governed without having been elected before.

That is why, just having a daughter as an heir, he thought, like Doran, to betroth her to eldery Christian dukes and counts of the north to preserve his lineage and annex certain lands, but this only generated more tension and ended up being murdered with poison in Uclés.

Days came and went, one after the other, so many that Arianne lost count of how long she had been imprisoned. She found herself spending more and more time abed, until she reached the point where she did not rise at all except to use her privy. The meals the servants brought grew cold, untouched. Arianne slept and woke and slept again, and still felt too weary to rise. Fresh meals replaced the old ones, but she did not eat them either. Once, when she felt especially strong, she carried all the food to the window and flung it out into the yard, so it would not tempt her. The effort exhausted her, so afterward she crawled back into bed and slept for half a day.

After her father’s death, Wallada was taken away from the capital to a summer residence used by the royal family called "Medina Azahara" and left isolated for a month. During that time they were debating what to do with her as she was the last of the Umayyad dynasty, one of the 4 lineages that dated back to the time of Muhammad.

Unlike Arianne who was confined in a tower, Wallada could go out to the gardens as long as she did not go outside the permitted perimeter. During that time she wrote poetry that resemble Arianne's charisma and way of being;

I am fit for high positions by Allah and am going my way with pride. I allow my lover to touch my cheek and bestow my kiss on him who craves it.

Wallada was lucky that her father's death coincided with the splendor of the political career of Abu ‘l Hazm of the Banu Jawahr. He established a republic with a council of ministers (called wazirs) to advise him. It was for this reason that after being confined, they gave Wallada her father's fortune in exchange for distancing herself from royalty.

Abu al-Waleed Ahmad Ibn Zaydun was, like Wallada, a member of the noble classes. Like Gerold Dayne being famously known as “The Sword of The Night”, he was called “The Scribe of The Night” for being the stage of the day where he had more inspiration to write his poems.

The two wrote poems back and forth, and the entire court was soon buzzing with gossip about the affair between the dashing young wazir and the beautiful princess. And then, it all began to go sour. Wallada caught him with another man and betrayed her trust, like Gerold did with Arianne after trying to kill Myrcella.

You were for me nothing but a sweetmeat that I took a bite of and then tossed away the crust, leaving it to be gnawed on by a rat.

Poison, thought Arianne. Yes. Pretty poison, though. That was how he'd fooled her. [...] Pretty boys had ever been her weakness, particularly the ones who were dark and dangerous as well.

Anyway, thanks for reading! I had a lot of fun looking into this and pulling some comparisons out. Arab culture is so underrated so I hope curiosity has awakened them some of the people that crossed with this post. Keep calm waiting for twow and Unbow, Unbent, Unbroken!

#asoiaf #asoiafmeta #arianne martell #house martell #al-andalus #princess #dorne #freecities #sunspear #watergardens #doran martell #darkstar

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givlianas · 4 years

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hey THOTS , it’s lola ! as promised , here’s giuliana , aka gi , aka gbaby , aka honor roll horse girl — we stan ! i have the shortest attention span in the world , so please hit me up on discord to plot at 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖙#3103 ! you can also react to this with a ♡ and i’ll hit you up !

ʻ / let me introduce you to a prized member of our equestrian team & honors society , giuliana ‘ g ’ clemonte . this cisfemale scorpio has been a student at our institution for eleven years and is currently a twenty-one year old junior . through the halls , she has always reminded me of natasha liu bordizzo , but there is always more than meets the eye , like the fact that she’s been selling the stock her father put aside for her to a business rival . coral cape has made their future just as bright as their smile , i assure you . ʼ ( muse three , lola , twenty-one , est , she / her )

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

full name : giuliana mae clemonte. nicknames : gi , giu , lia , liana , gigi , jujubee , gbaby. age : twenty-one. date of birth : november 14 , 1998. place of birth : rome , italy. sun sign : scorpio. gender : cisgender female. pronouns : she / her / hers. passports : american , italian , chinese. languages : english , italian , chinese. education : st . stephen’s school in rome ( until age ten ) and cape coral international school. major : sociology ( currently pre-law ). clubs : equestrian team , honor society.

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

giuliana’s a daugher of china and italy , with roots tracing back to BLUE BLOOD on either side. her mother’s side traces back through generations of businesspeople and entrepreneurs , who built china’s economy. her father’s side traces back through generations of engineers and architects , who built many of the major cities of italy. her golden pedigree came with a certain amount of EXPECTATIONS , which her tiger parents were clear about with her from a young age. she was born in rome , and instantly sent off to the st . stephen’s boarding school when it came time for her to begin her schooling.

meanwhile , business began booming in the united states for both sides of the clemonte clan , who made the move over to portland , leaving behind their daughter to finish her studies. at age ten , giuliana finally reunited with her parents and was THRUST into a wildly different school system. the change was enough to make the girl’s head spin , all while instilling in her adaptability and a love for OBSERVING others’ facial expressions , mannerisms and their general attitude around others. it’s something she’s kept to this day.

though wealth has played a large part in her upbringing and the environment she’s grown up in , giuliana’s grown quite DISILLUSIONED of it. she’s seen the damage her parents and their businesses have left in their wake ( the collapse of the new residence building being one of them ! ) and doesn’t quite understand how they’re able to just throw money at the problem and walk away. as her secret suggests , she’s slowly but surely inching away from what her family has built , and hopes her career will be enough to sustain her once she spits out the silver spoon that was put in her mouth when she was born.

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇

𝐢. 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

TRACK 01 ▶ PANG by CAROLINE POLACHEK.

there's a look in your eyes when you're hungry for me it's a beautiful knife cutting right where the fear should be

this one’s a direct reference to giuliana and axel’s relationship. though their modus operandi is being ON AND OFF , a relationship peppered by petty fights , tears and short-lived breaks , no part of giuliana is truly ready to let axel go. their mental connection , their shared interests , their morals and values , their sex life — it’s all too good for her to let go of. this particular song really gives a sense of how fiercely she feels for him , how deeply he’s engrained in her being.

TRACK 02 ▶ ORDINARY SUPERSTAR by RINA SAWAYAMA.

because i'm just an ordinary superstar so far but always hanging where you are

this one pertains to giuliana’s relationship with status , money and the lineage she was born into. though her last name opens doors , gets her a certain level of eduction and leads to a fair few people turning their heads or craning their necks , it’s something she still very much WRESTLES with. she’s obviously thankful for the immense privilege her wealth and background offer her on a regular basis ( hello ?! who wouldn’t ? ), but the scrutiny and the fabricated kindness and friendships that come from it are things she could very well do without.

TRACK 03 ▶ NAVY BLUE by CHARLOTTE LAWRENCE.

we got delusions of a grand oblivion we're only happy when we're higher than the sun

this one ties more into the stereotypical aspects of being tied to wealth. the partying , the smoking , the drinking , the drugs — the small things that make the lives of the children at cape coral a little smoother. giuliana’s not particularly attracted to drugs , loud music , velvet ropes and faded neon signs , but has been known to partake occasionally , when everything becomes a little too intense to deal with and her brain needs a short BREAK from overthinking and overanalyzing.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬

like the true OBSERVER she is , giuliana’s always been a social chameleon. her personality ebbs and flows based on the company she keeps , her eyes always careful to pick up on others’ emotions and body language. it’s how she’s been able to read past what her parents have told her over the years. in an environment where labels are quickly affixed , it’s what has kept her ahead of the curve and has allowed for her classmates , friends and anyone else in her orbit to be kept guessing.

this , in turn , has led to one label sticking ( on and off , truth be told ): the MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL. after all , who wouldn’t want to be , hang around or date the mysteriously quiet girl with the golden pedigree and platinum family tree ? the one who always seems to have the most eccentric fun fact to recount during classroom ice-breakers , the one whose holiday destinations rival all others’ , the one no one can seem to ever get an accurate read on. part of her loves to have fun with the attention and whispers that come with this label , but another ( truthfully , larger ) part is conflicted with what this means for her and what that makes her come across as.

ultimately though , if there’s anything anyone should know about giuliana clemonte , it’s that she’s a SEEKER and is driven by a need to know and understand the world and people around her. her actions , though not always meant to generate good , are always guided by her moral compass. she comes from a blue blood family and was given a silver spoon at a young age , but very much does not fit in the cookie cutter rich kid stereotype. she’s quick to point out the wasteful ways in which her family and those around her spend , and tries to keep her life as normal as she can ( though things like art , expensive wine , quality italian leather goods and lush fabrics are all things she’s thankful her lifestyle allows her to have ).

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

SOME FUN FACTS !

though her name doesn’t make it all that obvious , giuliana is of CHINESE-ITALIAN descent ( the former on her mother’s side and the latter on her father’s side )

she’s a very fast reader , and absorbs an impressive amount of the information she reads — if you’ve watched suits , she’s like michael ross : everything she understands , she remembers forever

her luxury vices are italian leather shoes , earrings , art and good food ( cars ? private jets ? clothes ? expensive hair and makeup artists ? useless spends in her eyes )

she collects all of the letters she’s ever received and will spend evenings spreading them out on her bedroom floor and re-reading them quietly ( chocolate readily available or glass of wine in hand ) when she needs to re-center herself

she’s gotten many , many nicknames over the years ( gi , giu , lia , liana , gigi , jujubee , to cite a few ) but true friends know to call her gi

you can find a ( work in progress , because i’m a perfectionist about these ) pinterest board for giuliana HERE !

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

give me STRONG FEMALE FRIENDSHIPS that are basically platonic soulmate relationships , with comfort and trust so strong that nothing could ever break them apart ( carla and lu , but without the murder and arguments ? )

give me a SQUAD with late night wine drinking , nights spent out on beaches skinny dipping and laughing until it hurts , large group hugs when things aren’t so good , promises to always have each others’ backs and inside jokes that no one else will ever understand.

give me an UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP with a boy she was convinced she hated , but now realizes she’s so similar too ( they’re both shitty , and it’s fine ! ) and will insult to cope.

give me ONE NIGHT STANDS and HOOKUPS she uses to attempt to get over axel , with heated kisses in stairwells and hallways and labored breaths in semi-public places.

give me ANGRY SCHOLARSHIP KIDS who can’t stand her connection to the collapse of a building and with whom she’ll clash , all while knowing that they’re right and that her family should pay the price of their actions.

give me someone gi SMOKES WITH on the roof of her home , to get away from it all. she has her head on their shoulder and smoke dancing out of her mouth , counting down the minutes until she feels light enough to start pouring her soul out.

give me CHILDHOOD FRIENDSHIPS with people who first saw baby gi , fresh out of italy , with a strong accent and doe-eyed confusion over schedules , classroom locations and the like. they’ve stuck by each other for years , and maybe knowing each other that well has been good or maybe it’s dangerous that they know so much.

give me ANYTHING YOU WANT ! i honestly love in-depth , thought-out plots and would love , love , love to brainstorm and think through things with all of you !

#❪ ⋅ ◆ ⋆ — ❛ out of character ❜ ❫#capecoral:intro

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aquilaofarkham · 5 years

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title: the golden sleep rating: teen and up word count: 6,325 summary: Sleeping Beauty/fairy tale AU where Dracula casts a dark spell over every kingdom in the land while a disgraced prince and a travelling magician race to stop him and rescue his son, who he’s trapped in an eternal, death-like sleep.

read on ao3 at aquilaofarkham

The lonely prince lived in a castle of night and thorns. A place consumed by shadows where nothing green ever grew. Which was why he took every possible opportunity to leave. As the sun rose over the mountains surrounding his kingdom, the prince would quietly slink out through the gates then promptly return just before the moon and stars blanketed the night sky. For he was the only one in his father’s court whom the sun adored. He could stand outside in the middle of the day and remain unharmed.

One day, the prince waited as light shone through every crack and crevice of his home. The king, along with other occupants, fled towards their darkened corners. Skittering into empty coffins as creatures of the night always do in the face of daylight. Until at long last, the castle grew silent.

A perfect chance for the prince to make his temporary escape. He tied up his high boots while strapping a crossbow against his back and a thin sword by his hip. One was for hunting, the other for his own defence despite him never needing to use it. No mortal human ever dared to step foot in the woods. It was where the prince always fled to, his sanctuary. Though its trees were dense and its foliage lush, full of bountiful nature, everyone knew better. One step too far, and a distracted hunter would find themselves stumbling upon a domain few returned from.

“Do not go where eyes shine red from every shadow,” they all said. “That’s where Dracula, the King of Vampires resides.”

The prince climbed over large roots protruding from the mossy ground, skipping over crystal blue streams with grace and ease. He never called himself a vampire. All his life, he knew he was different from his father and members of his court. He bore the same fangs, the same strength, and could transfigure himself into a hoard of bats or a swift wolf whenever he willed it. But there was his ability to endure the sun without pain or discomfort and his aversion to blood. The prince knew how his father acquired such a liquid and thus never drank it, instead filling his cup with the strongest and reddest of wines.

There were many titles gifted to him—the golden prince due to his hair and eyes, the one who walks among sunlight, then Adrian, the name his long-gone mother chose for him. He loved that name, as he loved his mother despite only knowing her for a short time. Yet as he grew into an adult, he came to give himself a new name, one that stood against the king. A representation of how he was the very antithesis of his father.

Further into the forest, the prince stopped to rest on a fallen tree. He sat in deep thought, still as the hardest stone. The animals saw his calm demeanour and felt drawn to him. Too small, quick, and clever to be considered real game, so he let them join him for now. A lonely prince grateful for some company.

He longed to leave the castle, forever. It was his wish, his dream, and his hope. Where would I go? Time and time again he asked himself that question. In the forest with his animals and towering trees? Or towards other kingdoms with their human subjects? Would there ever be a place for a prince like him?

His melancholy thoughts were cut short by the sound of sticks breaking and leaves rustling off in the distance. The animals’ hairs stood on edge as they ran off, scattering in all different directions. They knew it was neither the wind nor a creature like themselves causing that commotion. The prince stood erect; one hand steady at his sword while the other prepared to reach for his crossbow. He listened as the noise drew closer.

Feelings of suspicion escalated when a dark horse trotting through the shrubbery emerged, a cloaked figure close by its side. The distance between them shortened until the stranger’s wandering gaze found the prince.

Dark auburn hair (in need of a good combing), the early signs of stubble upon his chin, and garb similar to that of a hunter’s. Though draped around his shoulders was a coat with fur whiter and larger than a cloud. An article of clothing common amongst royalty. They stood apart, both looking just as bewildered as the other.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on edge,” the man dressed in furs spoke. His voice was deep with a ruggedness to it. “I thought I was alone.”

“As did I. It’s rare to see a human in these woods. No one ever comes here.”

“Well, I was on my way home, but... I think I might have gotten lost.”

The prince noticed small remnants of leaves stuck in his hair and cloak. “I can see that. Where were you going?”

“To the north, that’s where my kingdom is.”

“Kingdom?” So, he is of royalty. “What is your title?”

“Prince Trevor of the Belmont Lineage. My mother and father are King and Queen of the Hunters.” He said it with pride, holding his head high. “And yours?”

The golden prince said nothing at first. His mind was too focused on the name Belmont. Dracula always spoke of them with a burning hatred, for the two kingdoms had been at war long before either prince was born. When they weren’t fighting, there was a never-ending sense of dread concerning the next battle. When it would happen, where it would happen, and who would strike first.

The prince never hated the Belmonts as much as his father did and he never wanted to fight. He simply longed for peace. But if he revealed the name he chose to defy Dracula, would Trevor realise the truth and attack without thinking? He quickly decided on the safest response, despite it feeling somewhat untrue to himself.

“Adrian. Just Adrian.” He said, making sure his fangs remained obscured.

“Are these your woods, Adrian?”

“They don’t belong to anyone but the animals, but I do live on the other side. And I visit quite often.” The prince turned around and gestured for Trevor to follow him. “Come. I will show you a path that will lead you out of here and due north.”

“That’s very generous of you, but it’s not necessary. I can find my own w-”

“I wouldn’t take my offer lightly. You’ll get even more lost in this particular forest if you don’t have someone to guide you.”

Though surprised by his bluntness and persistence, Trevor and the horse followed Adrian diligently until they came to a much more substantial path. “This will take you to the northern most road. Remember not to stray and you will find your way back home.”

“Thank you. You really do know your way around this forest.” Trevor paused, noticing that some animals decided to tag along after realising there was no danger. “Can I see you again? It must get lonely here with no one else around.”

“... it does get lonely. In more ways than one.”

“Then I’ll come back. In three days, I’ll meet you right here where we’re standing.”

“Oh... alright. Three days, then.” It was all happening so fast, what else could he say? But he did not regret it. Adrian watched as Trevor mounted his horse and turned to him.

“You’re strange, but interesting. I’ll see you in three days. I promise.” He then rode off, leaving the other prince a little dumbfounded. He had to remind himself that everything-their encounter and the words they exchanged-was real. Of course, it would be a risk seeing the son of his sworn enemy a second time, but Adrian took risks every day. Would one more really make the difference? And part of him wanted to be friends with this Prince Trevor.

The lonely prince wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.

Trevor kept his promise. Three days following their first meeting, he went back into the woods and down the same path. He waited at the very end, keeping both an eye and ear out for the strange yet interesting prince. His patience was soon rewarded as a familiar head of long hair the colour of amber honey emerged from the trees. Trevor greeted Adrian with a smile, who gave him a small but genuine one in return.

The hours they spent together passed like minutes. More and more they found themselves enjoying each other’s company. Trevor felt soothed by Adrian’s presence and Adrian liked the way Trevor made him laugh. When it came time to part ways, the two princes made a pact to meet the next day. And they did so; again, and again, and again. Adrian snuck out of Dracula’s castle as he always did. Trevor made his own excuses to leave home for a few hours.

For them, the forest’s gifts were plentiful. Together they swam in ponds, tested their swordsmanship during playful sparring matches, and finally took their rest in meadows. Comfortably nestled amongst the soft grass and flowers, using Trevor’s fur cloak as a blanket. Underneath a green canopy, they were protected; secluded from the outside world and safe from their families’ war.

Adrian still couldn’t bring himself to expose the truth. He wanted to maintain that aura of safety for as long as possible. But he needed to know something.

“Trevor...” He asked, looking over at the Belmont’s calm expression as they lay side by side. “What do you know of Dracula?”

“What do I know?” Trevor pondered over his answer. “Not much, I suppose. Nobody does. He’s been a mystery for centuries.”

“But do you think he’s truly evil?” A question Adrian asked himself even as a child. He never wanted to believe that his father was a monster, but there were doubtful moments.

“My family certainly thinks that. What do you think?”

“Well... I’ve heard that Dracula fell in love.”

Trevor sat up. “With who?”

“With a human.”

“That’s impossible. Where did you hear this story?”

“Just listen. It was a long time ago when he met a woman named Lisa. She was a healer and Dracula adored her because he thought she was the sun incarnate.”

“Like you.”

Adrian’s cheeks flushed pink, both out a embarrassment and the fear that Trevor was catching onto the truth behind his story. “Some villagers discovered that Lisa had married the King of Vampires and accused her of dark magic. She fled to her clinic and they burned it down with her trapped inside.”

“That’s terrible. But it’s just a story, right?”

“Perhaps. But if Dracula was once capable of love, do you think it’s possible that your family could end their war with him?”

“It’s a nice thought to have. I certainly hope the war ends one way or another. Then everyone will be safe, not just us.” Trevor lay back onto his cloak while Adrian sighed. He lowered himself until his cheek was pressed against the Belmont prince’s chest.

“I hope it ends too.” One day, he thought. The feeling of Trevor gently stroking his long hair lulled him into a light sleep. One day I will reveal everything. And the war between our families will be over.

As the hot summer faded into a cool autumn, Trevor rushed out of the Belmont palace and straight towards their meeting place with the same excitability as every other day. When he arrived, he found himself waiting though he didn’t mind. As long as his friend eventually joined him.

Time passed and still Trevor waited, alone. Longer and longer until the sun began to wane. He had no choice but to leave before the roads got too dark. Riding back home, Trevor looked over his shoulder at the edge of the forest as it grew smaller with each second. That night, he lost sleep wondering about the many theories as to why Adrian wasn’t there—some more disheartening than others.

Maybe he had forgotten or was busy with other affairs. Maybe he grew tired of Trevor’s company and didn’t want to tell him outright, fearing he might break the other prince’s heart. Maybe something worse had happened.

The Belmont let a few more days pass before trying again. His second attempt was followed by a third, fourth, then an agonizing fifth. Don’t be disappointed. People in your life will come and go all the time. There will be others. Not even those thoughts, rational as they might have been, were able to convince Trevor. For there were no letters, no words whatsoever from Adrian. It was as though the man and all those days they spent together—the laughter they shared, the banter, and moments when their hands touched, fingers interlacing with each other’s—never really existed.

The very notion sent him into a state of boredom and dejection. He went about his duties as all princes did, but he walked with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Yet the worst was still to come and no one, not Trevor nor anyone else in the kingdom, could fathom it.

When grey clouds blocked out the sun and the wind howled like a terrible omen, King Gabriel and Queen Sonia Belmont led a small army into Dracula’s domain. They had waited too long and now was the time to strike again. Riders held their banners high, waving in the breeze while shields and armour plates proudly displayed the Belmont sigil. Moral amongst the hunters and their two leaders was steadfast; they needed another victory. As the seemingly untouchable castle drew closer, the skies began to darken until the whole world was engulfed in shadows. The Belmonts stood their ground.

Only one poor hunter with a broken bow, an empty quiver, and a bloodied rag tied around his face returned carrying a message for the prince. He couldn’t recall the entire battle for both his eyes had been scratched out by one of Dracula’s creatures. But he did remember the clashing of blades, the inhuman snarls, and the desperate shouts calling for retreat before they were hastily silenced.

“What of my mother and father?” Trevor asked.

The hunter forced himself to speak. “Before I lost my sight, I saw them at Dracula’s feet. He towered over us, like he was part of the very blackened sky he created... neither of them were moving.”

Trevor’s heart sank into his stomach. He stumbled up the tower steps and into his bedchamber as the survivor cried out “Dracula has become more powerful than ever”. Those terrible words echoed throughout the palace.

On that day while the orphaned prince shed his quiet tears, the sun disappeared.

People found ways to live in the everlasting darkness. Lanterns adorned the streets and the Belmont palace was aglow with thousands of candles. Trevor couldn’t accept his father’s title of King Belmont; he wasn’t ready to be king. Not only that, he believed he didn’t deserve it. He extended his mourning period by drowning himself in bottles of wine and pints of ale. Ending the days sadder than he began them. Sympathy for him turned into impatience, then finally into sad, pitying looks.

Then the thorns began to grow. It started in the southern most cities; vines with spikes like iron crawled along the roads, scaled the stone walls, and invaded every home. The citizens felt as though they had to stay frozen in place, too afraid to move in fear of impaling themselves upon the unusually large thorns. Despite all best efforts, they kept cutting their arms, legs, and faces. Blood fell like drops of rain, which the creeping plants drank up hungrily, becoming stronger and faster. They spread across the land, devouring all in their path.

After the thorns came the creatures, some with eyes red as the darkest rubies, others bluer than the coldest ice. They skittered into the cities, villages, and castles on their bat-like limbs, bearing their sharp fangs, more ravenous than the vines.

The last son of the Belmont Lineage watched from the window of his bedchamber at the very same iron thorns consuming his kingdom. Just as they had done with all the others. He listened to the ugly shrieks of night creatures reviling in their carnage. Trevor knew the source of this dark, inescapable magic that held the world in its grasp. Yet he hesitated; he was only one man, a disgraced prince who let himself wallow in misery for too long. If the king and queen could not defeat Dracula, then pray tell, how could he?

Trevor’s duty to his people outweighed his doubts. He saw their fear and decided to act. I might be victorious, he thought. Or I might join my mother and father. But I have never been afraid of a noble death.

Portraits of Belmont rulers long since gone stared down as Trevor retrieved all he needed from the arsenal room. A set of armour worn by Gabriel, a chain whip known as the Morningstar used by Sonia, and a longsword with ruby embellishments forged by his oldest ancestor. Lastly, with a sober hand Trevor slipped a familiar cloak around his shoulders. There was an odd sort of comfort in wearing it. As though his old rag with dirtied white fur was his true armour, not the silver plates gracing his body and limbs.

Riding out of the palace, Trevor made short work of the thorns that entrapped his home. Slicing them with his sword as they briefly cried out in pain, spilling blood that did not belong to them. The Morningstar sang its own song, choking night creatures while they burst into blood and flames. His kingdom had been freed and, for now, was safe.

Trevor made it to the fields where he came across a humble caravan of blue-clad folk trying to defend themselves from a hoard of monsters whose eyes and fangs glowed unnaturally. The prince acted fast until the threat was no more. “Is anyone hurt?” He called out above the chorus of relieved murmurs.

“We are alright.” An older man stepped forward and took Trevor’s hand. “Thank you for saving us.”

“You shouldn’t be out in the open like this.”

“We are Speakers. It is our way of life to travel from city to city, kingdom to kingdom, in search of those who need our aid.”

“Speakers...” Trevor knew these people; or at the very least, his family did. The Speakers were old friends of the Belmonts. He recalled seeing the same blue robes walking down the halls of his palace when he was a child.

“What about you?” A much younger Speaker interrupted. “Why are you out here?”

“I am Prince Trevor of the Belmont Lineage. Dracula has cursed the land, but I intend to stop him. Take refuge in my kingdom. You’ll be safe there for now.”

The Speakers were visibly reluctant. Most wanted Trevor to stay while others expressed a desire to join him, though he was adamant in carrying on alone. This was his duty, quest, and burden, no one else’s. The eldest Speaker spoke for the rest of his people.

“We do not agree with your choice, but we will respect it. They say the shortest way to Dracula’s castle is through the woods. But be cautious young prince. My grandchild ran in there and has not returned. If you find them... at least bring their body back so that we may give them a proper burial.”

“I shall.”

Trevor watched as the Speakers ambled down the road, turning away only when certain they would have a safe arrival at his kingdom’s gates. He looked towards his and Adrian’s forest, made wholly unfamiliar by Dracula’s curse.

My grandchild ran in there and has not returned. The elder Speaker’s weary words hung heavy in the prince’s conscience. All that time and the stories warning foolish travelers never crossed his mind. Never thought for a second that the King of Vampires ruled so close. Or perhaps there was a different reason. Perhaps he had always been aware of the stories, but never cared. The prince still came to cherish his forest.

Trevor thoughts turned to Adrian. Was he safe? Did he manage to escape the encroaching nightmare? The lack of answers filled Trevor with uncertainty, yet it drove him further towards his mission. He listened for any sound other than that of his own footsteps upon the dead foliage. There were no birds singing their cheerful hymns of welcome, no curious chirps from smaller creatures. In their place, burrowed among the browning grass and leaves, were bones.

The prince pushed himself and his horse as far as he could before the thorns surrounded them. They were birds trapped within a cage that bore a mind of its own, but Trevor’s sword hand was prepared. With the Morningstar also at the ready, the vines fell into pieces at his feet. The air was thick with ashes and the stench of burning blood.

Trevor let out a huff. This fight might have gone on for far longer without any loss of strength from him. So much of Dracula’s army was already dead because of him, and he was determined to be the death of many more. Even if he insisted on fighting alone. To rid his home of such a curse, to save countless lives, and to bring back the sun, the Belmont prince was willing.

Yet the fight ended just as quick as it began. The thorns retreated only for Trevor to soon realise that they were not acting like cowards. They were simply making way for another one of their comrades-a much, much larger one. Trevor’s expression changed into one of stunned disbelief as he came face to face with the cyclops. A creature tall as the oldest tree with hands and feet like boulders. With every step, the ground shook under its massive stature. Taking one, emotionless look at the tiny prince, its singular eye began to shift.

Trevor ran for cover, urging his horse to do the same. A bright beam of light suddenly cut through the forest. Had the prince been caught in that fire; he would have turned to stone. A fate worse than death, as many claimed, for everyone that fell victim to the cyclops’ stare remained alive despite their stony prisons. Cursed to live an eternity, immovable and in agony. Trevor was torn between attacking the brute outright or taking the time to better formulate a plan less likely to kill him.

Either way, he wasn’t given the chance to make a decision. The cyclops grabbed the prince by the end of his cloak and threw him into the trees. A weightless rag doll tossed around by a child. No broken bones, but Trevor’s head spun mercilessly and felt his poor, spent limbs ache with every subtle movement. He could barely continue dodging the cyclops’ attacks. The sound of its thunderous body making its way closer coupled with broken branches tumbling to the ground deafened him. Trevor held the whip in a death grip and prepared to throw his sword at his opponent.

There was no need for reckless action. Before the prince could carry out his plan (poorly thought out as it was), a hooded figure appeared just by the cyclops’ feet-a figure cloaked in blue. Raising their hands, a small light glowed from their fingertips, followed by a violent burst of fire. Flames surrounded the monster, obscuring its vision.

At first it seemed to be only a minor annoyance until the figure swayed their arms in a different pattern. Fire transformed into ice pikes, flying through the air, assaulting every inch of the cyclops. Finally, one drove itself into the giant’s eye. Trevor watched in amazement as its lifeless body collapsed. The magician, his saviour, then turned around and marched straight up to the prince. They lowered their hood, revealing a head of messy strawberry blonde hair and a soft yet intensely determined face.

“Are you a fool? What were you thinking, fighting against a fully-grown cyclops with no magic?”

“I... thank you for saving me?”

“You’re welcome. But I shouldn’t have had to. You should know better than to be so reckless.”

Trevor recognised her strong accent, the same one he heard from the old man. “You’re a Speaker magician, aren’t you?” Along with their nomadic, altruistic lifestyle, the Speakers were well known for their powerful spell casters, bending magic to their will.

“That I am. I’m Sypha Belnades. And who might you be?”

“Prince Trevor of the Belmont Lineage.”

“A Belmont?” Sypha exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Doesn’t your kingdom need you?”

“I am out here because my kingdom needs me. Dracula must be stopped and it is my quest to destroy him as it was my family’s. You on the other hand shouldn’t be here. Your grandfather is worried about you.”

Sypha refused to budge. “I cannot go back. We share the same quest, Trevor. The Speakers talk of a treasure that will undo Dracula’s curse. He keeps it locked away deep within his castle.”

“How do you know if this treasure really exists?”

“I don’t, but my people’s prophecies have never been wrong. We should go together.”

“No. I promised your family that I would find you and return you to them.”

“You can return me when we are successful. Besides, you won’t defeat Dracula with only a sword and a whip.”

The prince had no energy to argue. With a defeated mumble, he agreed and signalled for his horse to come out of hiding. Sypha shot him a self-congratulatory smirk before climbing onto the animal’s back. They left the scene of chaos behind, their eyes fixated on the long journey ahead.

Trevor didn’t regret bringing along Sypha. She had proven to be an irreplaceable companion in more ways than one. Using her abilities, she burned Dracula’s thorns and cleared a path through the woods. During quieter moments, she spoke excitedly about magic, the Speakers’ history regarding the subject, and how she longed to improve upon her own powers.

“You should write a book on spell casting,” Trevor suggested. Sypha let an amused chuckle escape her lips.

“No. It isn’t the Speaker way to write down our histories and traditions, even when it comes to magic. We prefer to pass things down orally and keep stories within ourselves. That way our words have more strength and cannot be physically destroyed.”

“Of course.” Admittedly, Trevor didn’t fully understand but he still respected the way of the Speakers. Different as it might have been from that of the hunters. “Did your people say what this... treasure of Dracula’s is exactly?”

“They did not. They said it would bring back the sun and dispel all of Dracula’s creatures from the land—that’s all. That’s why he guards it so closely. So that his evil can continue uninterrupted. Without the sun, no one can stop his rule.”

“No one except us.”

Sypha gave Trevor a silent agreement. Following their fight with the cyclops, her opinion of the prince had steadily improved. No longer did she see him as a lucky fool who happened to have a sword on his belt and a crown upon his head. Whenever a hoard of night creatures blocked their path, Trevor cut them down with a deft hand. His skill with the Morningstar impressed her the most.

Under the light of a full blood moon, the two looked ahead and were greeted by a relieving yet eerie sight. A fortress with towers rising high like daggers protected by an impenetrable cage of thorns. The closer they tried riding, the more Trevor’s horse whinnied and stomped its hooves in protest. It nearly threw him and Sypha off its back when a pair of new monsters stopped them. One being a Minotaur and the other a massive crow with a skull for a face and a wingspan that dwarfed its own body. Trevor had read about the creature named Malphas in his family’s bestiary, more akin to a demon than purely a man or bird.

The minotaur crashed both of its fists against the ground and let out a guttural bellow that made the trees tremble. Trevor used the whip to catch around its horns and swing onto its back, slicing his blade across the beast’s neck. Malphas was quick and cunning, but not as much as Sypha with her spells. She scorched its wings, binding it to the ground, before using her ice pikes to break its skull and impale its head. Another fight, another small triumph. The end was in sight, they could both feel it in their hearts and stomachs.

They arrived at a long bridge where at the other end, waiting patiently for the prince and magician, lay the real battle. Towering over them as though part of the blackened sky, just as that wounded messenger once described.

“You must be the Belmont runt.” Dracula spoke in a low, deliberate, and calm voice—for the moment. He slowly turned to Sypha. “And you... reeking of Speaker magic.” He hoped to revel in their terrified expressions, but there were none. They had torn through countless inhuman followers to stand against him. Their defiant looks infuriated the King of Vampires.

“I will show you what true magic is!” He roared, summoning more of his iron thorns. Trevor and Sypha fought side by side, inching their way further down the bridge. Whip and sword, fire and ice, working together. When the thorns let out their dying shrieks and crumbled into ashes, Dracula resorted to his own flames. Sypha raised her hands and held them back, shielding Trevor, before throwing them back towards their maker.

The king’s eyes grew redder, wilder, filled with anger at his enemy’s constant retaliation. “Enough! I will not be defeated by two lowly mortals. All of humanity deserves to perish at my hand. No one takes my rule or my castle away from me!”

He bared his fangs and seemed to disappear into a blur of wispy shadows. The prince and magician watched, bracing themselves for more of the same attacks. What barrelled towards them instead was Dracula himself, transfigured into a night creature larger than Trevor had ever seen before. It crawled over the bridge, its claws tearing at the stone, breaking it into pieces.

Sypha kept the monstrous being at bay with her fire while Trevor swung the Morningstar about, hitting its most vulnerable spots. The thing that used to be Dracula, enraged beyond comprehension, suddenly grabbed hold of the chain. As the prince was thrown into the air, Sypha called out his name. Her voice cracked, heavy with fear for her companion’s life.

Trevor grit his teeth and let go in midair. Wielding his ancestor’s sword, he brought it down upon Dracula’s neck. Gravity finished the job for him. Trevor fell onto the bridge alongside the King of Vampire’s severed head. Blood seeped through the cracks between each stone. There was a moment of deathly silence before Dracula’s corpse erupted into smoke. A gust of wind carried it off into the night, disappearing entirely.

“Was that it?” Trevor said, his chest heaving. “Is it over?”

Sypha spun around; the thorns were growing, and she could hear the distant growls of night creatures making their way home. Then she remembered. “The treasure... come on!” Dracula might have been defeated, but his curse still covered the land. There was only one last thing the prince and magician had to do, then their quest would be complete.

Carefully climbing over the vines, they broke through into the castle, just as haunting and oppressive as the outside. With Sypha lighting the way, they scoured down every corridor, searching the darkness for anything that might bring the sun back. Trevor kept his eyes open for a spell book or reliquary; a physical object. He was unprepared for what they found deep in the castle’s catacombs.

At the farthest end was a grand, lavish bed and canopy encased by smaller thorns. The two humans looked closer and saw that someone was lying underneath the covers. Someone Trevor recognized; he knew those locks of hair splayed out across the pillows, long and the colour of bright golden honey.

“Adrian!” Trevor rushed to his side, pushing aside the thorns. He said his name again while gently shaking his shoulders to no avail. Adrian’s eyes remained shut, face composed, and hands resting on his abdomen as though he were peacefully asleep.

“Did you know him?” Sypha asked quietly. Trevor couldn’t bring himself to face her.

“He... he was my friend. We met in the forest.” The question of what Adrian was doing in Dracula’s castle stirred in the prince’s mind until the answer made itself clear. His aloof nature, his story of the human doctor Lisa, and how he never opened his mouth too widely. Everything fit into place, a puzzle that Trevor should have solved a long time ago.

“You should have told me the truth...” He whispered. “I would have helped you.” It was too late for what ifs and apologies. All Trevor could do was give Adrian something he had been saving for the right moment. If only he didn’t have to give it in death. Leaning forward, he softly placed his lips upon Adrian’s.

There were no tears; the prince felt too exhausted for that. Sypha offered him some comfort by rubbing his back. “Trevor... Trevor! Look!” Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he was witnessing a miracle. Adrian stirred in his bed, rubbing his eyes and letting out a tired groan. Just as though he were sleeping.

“Trevor... is it really you? Did you wake me?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s really me.” He cupped Adrian’s face in both hands. “This is Sypha. We defeated Dracula together.”

Sypha smiled joyfully and said her own introductions. “How did this happen, Adrian?”

“I tried convincing my father to stop the war with the Belmonts and turn away from evil. Being with Trevor gave me that hope. But the hatred he felt for humanity, a hatred that had been festering for so long, was too strong. When I confronted him, he slashed at my chest and cast an enchantment over me.” Adrian sat up and revealed a long scar across his breast.

“My mother and I were the only ones whom the sun adored. With me in a sleep-like death, Dracula could block out the sun forever.”

“But what broke the enchantment?”

“Trevor, you fool.” Alucard laughed as his arms wrapped around the prince of hunters’ neck. “You did! You broke the curse.” He planted kiss after kiss on Trevor’s mouth, cheeks, and chin. “True love’s first kiss was the only thing that could wake me. After my mother died, Dracula believed that it no longer existed, so he made sure I would sleep forever. But you woke me.”

Trevor was overflowing with emotion—surprise, relief. Love. Their intimate reunion was interrupted by Sypha calling for them. “Come quick! Look at this!” Trevor helped Adrian out of bed and all three ran up the staircase to the nearest window. Over the horizon, the sun was beginning tor rise as every vine and thorn faded into dust. Dracula’s castle didn’t feel so dark anymore. They had won.

The two princes and the magician rode back through the now reborn forest. Trevor and Adrian shared his horse while Sypha had her own, a wild one that had survived the nightmare. “Are you not sad about your father?” She asked Adrian, whose back was resting comfortably against Trevor’s chest.

“I am, but... it needed to be done. I would have done it myself had I not been under his spell. He was no longer my father and hadn’t been for a very long time.” After a somber moment, he turned to Trevor. “There’s one other thing I need to tell you. I have another name, which I gave to myself as an act against Dracula: Alucard. I know you’re more used to calling me Adrian.”

“Alucard or Adrian, I will call you whatever you please.”

“Actually... I like it when you say Alucard.”

The day that Trevor and Alucard’s kingdoms united was a joyous one. They greeted their people both as kings and Dracula’s castle was no longer a beacon of terror. Trevor’s lips occasionally touched the opening of a wine bottle, but his desire for the liquid was not as great as it had been in the past. Sypha and the other Speakers would forever be welcome in his growing kingdom and he saved a special gift for her in particular.

“The Belmonts have a library filled with grimoires, spell books, and other artifacts with magical properties. But it needs an official scholar, someone deserving of all that power. I can’t think of anyone else but you.”

Sypha wanted to jump into Trevor’s arms and embrace him until he coughed, but she remained courteous towards the king and thanked him profusely. “Trevor... there’s been something on my mind.”

“What is it?”

“The enchantment that Dracula cast over Alucard... he could have just done away with him for good with no way of reviving him. But instead he put him to sleep along with a cure. Perhaps part of Dracula couldn’t bear the thought of killing his own son.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Trevor lowered his gaze as a new feeling crept up on him. Not sadness, far from that, but more uncertainty.

“What’s wrong? Are you not happy?”

“I am. Alucard and I have never felt this happy before in our lives. But... do you think happily ever afters really exist?”

She shrugged and smiled all the same. “I don’t know. No one does. But no matter what, they’ll tell stories about how the King of Hunters fell in love with the sun for a long, long time to come.”

#castlevania #trevor belmont #alucard #adrian tepes #sypha belnades #dracula #trevorcard #alutrev #netflix castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #my writing #*cvfic #otp: blood and honey #it's MY fanfic and I get to choose the au

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wondercatjjong · 4 years

Text

Bloodline

Plot: Jinki is the descendant of a long line of witches whose coven has gone near extinct. He must recruit new members in order to continue its existence. Along the way, he meets Jonghyun, a beautiful talented witch with extraordinary skill who he starts crushing on

Walking past the various churches and cathedrals around him without even admiring the symmetry like he used to, Jinki walked with purpose towards the tomb that acted as a front for his coven. Sometimes, it felt really strange to see the world changing so much around them that it was almost like evolution itself. Using their spells, the witches were able to age much slower than the average human. A hundred years in human life was equivalent to about two years for them, and they had to work hard to seem as though they were human, too.

“The meeting will now come to order”

“Do we have any new members?”

“None, it’s just the four of us”

The dejected expression on the leader’s face echoed the mood of all the members. Off late, they had been losing more and more members to old age. Since their witches had started to marry humans, the lineage had almost been lost. Powers were hereditary, and most of the new children ended up being entirely human. It was very difficult to find other witches, to continue the coven. Jinki was the only one from his family who possessed powers, and since he was an only child, it meant that he’d be the last one in his family to be a witch.

“Jinki, since you are the youngest member, it will be your duty to find others like us”

“Yes, sire”

As his leader stroked his long white beard thoughtfully, Jinki adjusted his blood-red velvet cape and nodded as he accepted the order that had been given to him. This was certainly not easy. As Jinki looked around the meeting spot of their coven, a cave with a table made of bones, he noted the many cobwebs and sighed. It had really been a long time since the cave got the cleaning it deserved. As he bowed and left, Jinki wondered where on Earth he would be able to find another witch. It couldn’t just be a half-witch, but someone of a pure bloodline. The purer the bloodline, the stronger their powers. Being the son of a clairvoyant and a warlock, Jinki was one of the most powerful witches in the country. His offspring, whether his partner was magical or not, would possess clairvoyance, even if they had nothing else.

The worst part of having two powerful parents was the fact that both powers couldn’t be used together. If only he could just gaze into a crystal ball like his mother, Jinki would be able to see the face of all the witches he could bring with him to bring their coven back to the way it used to be. All he could get was a sudden vision sometimes, or some really powerful dreams which turned into reality. The easy choice was to visit his family and just ask his mother for the answers he needed, but that would just count as weakness, which Jinki wanted to avoid at any cost. At his age, he was too proud to ask anyone for help, including his clairvoyant mother. Instead, he tried hard to think only about the coven before bed, so that he could get any kind of hint in his dream, that he could use. In his dream, Jinki saw himself at a normal convenience store, frequented by humans. In front of him was a dark-haired woman who was calmly filling her trolley. She looked very normal, and Jinki awoke instantly, having figured out that she must be the witch he had to find. Unfortunately, he had only seen the woman and the convenience store he would find her at, but he didn’t know when he should expect to find her. After noting down his dream in the blue notebook he kept on his dresser, beside his bed, Jinki drifted back to sleep. This time, the dream was a continuation of the previous one where he had seen the supposed witch, but this time the focus was on the man in front of her. With hair so fair that it almost looked white, and clad in the mortal’s fashion of a black leather jacket and jeans, this man exuded power. The woman might have some hereditary powers, but the man was the one their coven needed. The one Jinki needed.

The next morning, Jinki, who still remembered every detail of the man’s face, decided to start his search. It was fairly easy to find the exact store where he needed to be, as the area was exactly similar to his dream, even down to the abandoned salon next to it. Pretending to survey all of the available products, he wandered around the store while secretly looking for the man in his dream. Having waited for hours, Jinki was forced to purchase a box of cookies that he didn’t even like, just to prove that he wasn’t some kind of thief. As he was ready to leave, he spotted someone who looked vaguely familiar to him, but what was the leader of their coven doing in a place like this? Gingerly approaching the leader, Jinki bowed hastily before anyone could notice them.

“Sire, is something wrong?”

“No, I was just curious about the man you found. The one whom you’ll marry”

“What? I beg your pardon, but what do you mean?”

Laughing at the horrified expression on Jinki’s face, the wise leader rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering,

“My boy, you forget that mind reading is a power that I possess. Regarding your marriage...think nothing of it, it was just a simple thought I had”

“I haven’t found him yet, but when I do, I’ll convince him to join us”

As he bid adieu to his leader, Jinki kept thinking about what had been said. Marriage. Would he really marry the man he saw? He didn’t even know his name, and now he was ‘destined’ to marry him? That was just crazy of anyone to assume something like that, and so far there was no sign of the white-blonde haired man. On his way back home, he spotted something from the corner of his eye, a flash of white-blonde and before he could do anything, whatever he saw just disappeared into thin air.

That night, his dream was something he had never expected. He saw himself once again, sitting by the man, except this time, they were at a coffee shop. Jinki stood up to collect their orders and smiled at their names on the cups, before sitting down. Sitting up in bed with a jolt, Jinki realized that he now knew the witch’s name. Jonghyun.

How hard would it be to find someone whose name he already knew? For the first time in years, Jinki decided to perform a spell that would make his work easier. Taking out his crystal ball and placing it within the patterns he drew, Jinki uttered an incantation. As the crystal ball started to fill with white smoke, Jinki took a deep breath and uttered the words that would change his life forever.

“Show me where Jonghyun is, right now”

The smoke cleared to show Jonghyun inside a bank vault, filled with money. Wide-eyed, Jinki watched as Jonghyun filled two sacks full of all the bills they could carry. Smiling, Jonghyun disappeared in a second and reappeared in what looked like his lair. A bank robber? Why would the coven even want someone as despicable as a thief? A thief with the power of teleportation who would most certainly bring ruin to all those around him. The more he gazed into the crystal ball, the more annoyed Jinki became. Determined to find this person and give him a good piece of his mind, he spoke into the ball and tried to see more about Jonghyun.

“Show me Jonghyun’s history”

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that the spell only lasted for a certain time, and with a puff of smoke, the crystal ball went blank. It was no use in trying again, as Jinki was exhausted, but he knew the truth. People always said that the truth would set you free, but Jonghyun was going to learn the lesson of his lifetime. There were a lot of options that he could use to stop the thief, but the most effective one was a binding spell. Once bound, the victim couldn’t cast spells for a certain time. There was also an option by which the caster could determine what kind of spells the victim could be able to cast. Since Jinki came from one of the oldest magical families, any spell he cast would prove to be a hundred times more effective than if it had been cast by a novice.

Teleportation was not as much of a big deal now than it was, many years ago. Almost everyone was able to teleport, including Jinki, and if he was able to figure out where he could find the mysterious Jonghyun, he’d be able to bind him so that he couldn’t teleport again. Using the most powerful spell he knew, Jinki drew a different pattern on the wooden floor of his special room. Pricking his finger with a needle, he let three drops of his blood fall in between the lines of his pattern. Although blood magic was something that was frowned upon, it wasn’t exactly illegal. This type of magic allowed the user to do anything they wanted, even to read the minds of those unknown to them, which gave Jinki a lot of leeway into doing what he wanted. All he needed was a little glimpse into Jonghyun’s mind, and most, if not all of his questions would be answered.

“Show me Jonghyun’s deepest fear”

Knowing that this could be vital in his pursuit of finding out more about his self-claimed nemesis, Jinki took the chance in asking about Jonghyun’s fears rather than anything else. The cloud that formed showed something that was an echo of Jinki’s worst nightmare. He saw Jonghyun wearing tattered clothing and being burned at the stake. Though this wasn’t an uncommon nightmare, only those who had seen the trials when they were very young were able to remember. Feeling automatically closer to Jonghyun, almost as if he felt something more than just hatred, Jinki quickly ended the spell. He had seen more than he expected, and now he knew more about Jonghyun than anyone else did. If he could show Jonghyun that the humans these days were a lot smarter, maybe he would stop trying to draw attention to their race. All of the witches and other magical folk were now forced to either live in solitude or live amongst humans, pretending to be one of them.

*Flashback*

Although he was just a toddler, Jinki had already started to show signs that he was to become a powerful witch, which frightened his parents immensely. Usually, children would only exhibit signs at the age of five when they were more malleable, but due to his pure bloodline, Jinki couldn’t help using basic spells at a tender age.

Instead of trying to stop their marvellous child, his parents did their best to hide him from the humans, who had now started to abhor witchcraft and punish suspected witches and warlocks.

Hearing loud noises, Jinki walked over to the crowd that had gathered outside where he lived, and stood behind, transfixed. There was a man in ragged clothes who was tied up, while the crowd threw eggs and tomatoes at him. Not knowing what was happening, Jinki continued to watch as a torch was thrown at him, compelling the man to start crying and pleading for his life. The dark smoke that blinded Jinki, had started to enter his nose and give him trouble breathing.

“That’s another one of them disgusting witches. We’ll find all of them and burn them, just like this one”

His parents had been forced to go into hiding with the friends that were dear to them, and Jinki grew up being the only child in their coven.

*End of Flashback*

If Jonghyun was able to remember the witch trials from all those years ago, there was a very high possibility that he had grown up in the same area as Jinki. How was it possible that he wasn’t already in the same coven? Logically, Jonghyun should have been trained by the same elders who trained him and ensured the protection of his family, but why hadn’t he? Not knowing if it was right to start following him before knowing everything about him was the right thing to do, Jinki trusted his gut and took out his crystal ball once more. Jonghyun would be at the convenience store the following afternoon, and Jinki planned to confront him right there where he couldn't create any kind of scene out of fear of being noticed.

Dressing in jeans and a t-shirt as per the current trend, Jinki blended right in, when he wandered into the store. Knowing exactly where he’d find Jonghyun, he waited right by the alcohol section. Back in the day, only wine was allowed, but now all of them had to conform to the current society. Pretending to check the year of some red wine, he stood in position, ready for when he saw Jonghyun. He didn’t have to wait long though since Jonghyun appeared instantly, in a small cloud of smoke. What was wrong with this person? Did he really not understand what would happen if people saw him? Sighing, Jinki closed his eyes and muttered a spell to bind Jonghyun’s magic.

Jonghyun froze as he felt some kind of magic touch him, like an icy hand. Shivering, he turned around to see who it was. What he didn’t expect to see was a handsome, dark-haired man just smiling slyly at him. Muttering a spell to freeze him while he made his escape, Jonghyun was shocked to see that nothing had happened. Why couldn’t he move? This was the first time he had experienced anything like this and didn’t know how to react. Why didn’t his spell work? Almost jumping out of his skin when he heard someone cough right behind him, Jonghyun spun around, startled.

“Your magic won’t work, Jonghyun”

“How..how do you know my name?”

“I know a lot more about you than you think”

“Who the hell are you? How dare you try to bind my magic?”

“I was initially sent to bring you into our coven, but I’ve seen what you do with your power”

Taken aback, Jonghyun knew that the only way he’d be able to get himself out was if he agreed to everything this person said. Without his magic to safeguard or even protect him, Jonghyun felt rather helpless. However, there was something he could do, but not in such a public space. Fuming inwardly but refusing to show it, he meekly followed the taller man outside. As they walked to a more private area, Jonghyun took out a small needle from his pocket, making sure that he was unobserved. Gently pricking the tip of his index finger to draw blood, Jonghyun murmured his incantation just as a drop of blood touched the ground.

“Farewell”

Jinki looked up and gasped as he saw what Jonghyun was doing, and just gaped as Jonghyun disappeared in a red cloud. This was blood magic, an art that was dying, and heavily frowned upon. Sure, even he dabbled in the dark art to find Jonghyun, but only when he was sure that nothing would be traced back to him. If Jonghyun knew this kind of magic, it was certain to say that he had been trained by someone who was from a coven of sorcerers. Additionally, this type of magic couldn’t be performed by every witch. They’d have to have either a powerful lineage or had to be trained. Which one was Jonghyun, and why did they share the same fears? If Jonghyun was so accustomed to using blood spells so easily, it meant that he had been practising for a long time.

For the time being, it made more sense to find out Jonghyun’s origin, rather than chase him to join the coven. Jinki arranged a visit with the all-knowing leader to find out what he had to do next. Standing in the darkened room, only illuminated by candlelight, Jinki stared in open-mouthed wonder as his leader stroked his long beard thoughtfully.

“You want to find out how Jonghyun knows this type of magic since it is considered forbidden”

As always, amazed that the leader knew this, Jinki simply nodded.

“You need to know about his family, first. I’m afraid that this will bring a bad memory for you, but do you remember the time before your parents joined the coven? The witch trials were going on, and we all had to go into hiding. The person from your nightmares, the one that was burned on the stake before your eyes. That’s Jonghyun’s father”

It was no wonder that Jonghyun shared the same fear as him, as he had seen his own father being accused of witchcraft and punished for it. For a moment, Jinki felt his resolve soften when he put himself into Jonghyun’s shoes. Since he seemed to be against humans by stealing all of their things for his own benefit, it was definitely wrong. However, Jinki really did understand why Jonghyun was doing all that he did, but there was so much more than he needed to know.

“Sire, how did he end up like this? Where did he go after the trial?”

“He was raised by a single parent, and when he lost his father, our coven was ready to take him in. We were a bit too late, as he had been taken in by some of the most powerful sorcerers of that time”

“So they taught him all that he knows?”

“They were skilled in blood spells, and have definitely taught him well”

“Why does he use his magic for evil? So far, all I’ve seen is him stealing from the mortals”

“He despises the humans, and blames their backward beliefs and superstitions for him losing his family and the life he’d known”

“If they find out that we live amongst them, I’m sure there would be a lot more of us getting killed”

“Find him, and show him why he is wrong. Show him that there are humans who are good and kind, and that we can coexist and live together in harmony”

After living in hiding for most of his formative years, Jinki had slowly gotten used to living life as a human. Although it hadn’t been easy for him to convince the humans that he was one of them, his cover as a merchant trading spices and wine had provided him with a nice brick house with glass windows. His life had also taken a drastic turn, but Jinki didn’t hold any grudges. Knowing that there was nothing he could do to change the minds of those around him, he was forced to find Jonghyun.

Meanwhile, Jonghyun was busy splashing cold water on his face, as he replayed what had happened, in his mind. All this while, he had taken care in covering his tracks, so how had he been found so easily? Had he grown cocky and made a mistake? The man he had just seen, even knew his name, which had honestly shocked him. Was he a seer? It was safe to say that the mysterious ‘visitor’ had powers. The main thing he had to do was to find out who the visitor was, and whether he could lure him onto his side, against the humans. Someone who was powerful enough to find him, would surely make a spectacular ally, but he first had to report this to his superiors. Though he wasn’t exactly in a coven, there was a kind of group for those like him, and he thrived there. Being the youngest, he was given all the freedom he wanted, but his only aim was to make the human race pay for their sins.

Where the humans preferred to drive, Jonghyun found that teleportation was the easiest way for him to travel. With just one drop of blood and a crystal, there was nothing he couldn’t do. Filled with self-confidence, he chanted the necessary spell and soon found himself at his destination. Passing by the beautiful stained glass windows as he walked to the basement, he smiled at the ignorance of mankind. His ‘so-called’ coven existed in the basement of one of their churches and for all these years, no one had ever found out, even if they made any noise. It was almost ironic for the elders to choose this particular spot, as it was a haven for the humans. The basement looked like a dungeon, so it was obvious that none except those intended would ever cross the threshold. Blinking quickly so that his eyes would get adjusted to the darkness, Jonghyun rushed to the middle of the area, where the two sorcerers who brought him up waited for him. It was them who had saved him from a life of mediocrity and had taught him everything he knew. In their blood-red robes that matched the backdrop, they posed formidable figures. To the outside world, they didn’t exist but they had been sustaining themselves for all these years solely with the power of their craft. If they couldn’t use their own lifeblood, Jonghyun would provide his own for their spells. After all, he did owe them his life. The dream he was meant to fulfil was to bring all the witches and sorcerers together and take their rightful place in ruling over the mortals. It was about time the pitiful humans knew exactly who held the most power amongst them all.

“Why do you look so strange today, boy?”

“I think I’ve found someone powerful enough to join us”

“There aren’t so many sorcerers like us here, whom did you find?”

“Honestly, he found me, which is why I think he will be perfect”

Exchanging a look, his guardians picked up a huge book of ancient spells, and took a dusty crystal ball from behind their table. After dusting the cobwebs from the book, the elder of the two sorcerers placed the crystal ball on the wooden table. Placing both hands at the side of the ball, he gestured to his partner to start casting the necessary spell.

“Jonghyun, I need you to visualise the face of the person you met. I understand that he didn’t introduce himself to you. As you picture his face, please let one drop of your blood touch the surface of the crystal”

As the dark red smoke swirled around inside the ball, Jonghyun stared intently as the man’s face began to materialise.

“Who is he?”

The smoke turned into the letters JINKI. So, that was his name.

“Show me his origins”

The smoke morphed into an image of a dark-haired child playing with his parents. Judging by the gasp that escaped the lips of his guardians, it was obvious to him that they knew who he was. With shock reflected on their faces, they ended the spell before facing each other.

“Isn’t it funny that this boy is the one whom our Jonghyun met?”

“It feels like fate has been playing a game with our lives”

Getting more and more befuddled by the minute, Jonghyun knew he couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“Do you know this person?”

“Well, he comes from a powerful family of witches and clairvoyants, and we think he has received the powers from both his parents. His mother is a great seer, and must have taught him her craft. It’s funny because his father’s side were the ones who vowed to ban the use of blood magic, back when it was used frequently. For centuries, we’ve been at loggerheads with each other. Just imagine, the descendant of human huggers, joining our coven? This is beyond perfect”

Would it be feasible to bring Jinki into their group, if he was a human hugger? It would be funny if that was Jinki’s destiny, and Jonghyun had no qualms against showing him why humans deserved to be hated. Rather than searching for Jinki, it was much easier to let himself be found instead. How long would that take?

Jinki has become accustomed to thoughts of Jonghyun, ever since he escaped. Although it irked him to his core, he couldn’t help but admit that it was an ingenious move on the part of Jonghyun. Someone who was so good at blood magic was a diamond amongst the rocks and could make a really big difference when brought to the right side. Repeating the same spell to find out where Jonghyun would be, Jinki ensured that he was at the location as well. Surprisingly, instead of trying to escape, Jonghyun merely smiled at him. As though he had been expecting him. This couldn’t be right. Could it be some sort of trap?

“Hello Jinki”

Feeling goosebumps all over, Jinki felt his hair stand on end. How did Jonghyun know his name?

“How do you…?”

“How do I know your name, Jinki? I know a lot more than you think”

Throwing his own words right back at him? There was no doubt in his mind that something was afoot. He just didn’t know if he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“What do you want, Jonghyun?”

“I want you to reach your full potential. Just imagine what we can do with our combined magic. We’ll be able to rule the world the way we are meant to. There’s so much to prove to those around us, and I cannot do it by myself. I need someone like you by my side”

Jinki had no idea what Jonghyun was referring to, but it felt as though he was being recruited into a different type of coven. Would this be the excuse he needed to make Jonghyun change his mind? It was a definite possibility that their proximity would prove helpful to him.

“I agree, Jonghyun”

Not even wondering for a moment as to why Jinki agreed with him instantly, Jonghyun merely smiled as he brought his hand forward to shake Jinki’s. In order to test his sincerity though, Jonghyun would have to show him how their enemies, the humans, truly were. Not willing to take him to their secret place just yet, Jonghyun raced through other possibilities in his mind, since he certainly couldn’t do what he wanted to, in public. Spotting an abandoned manor a few minutes walk away, he knew for a fact that they wouldn’t be interrupted. As they walked inside, Jonghyun used a spell to conjure up the basic necessities he needed for his teleportation spell. . Not just teleportation, but Jonghyun was planning to take Jinki back in time to show him the harsh reality that his life had become. Holding out a large fragment of tektite, he motioned for Jinki to touch it, too.

“I need to show you something, and for this, we will need to travel back in time”

Though this request seemed odd, Jinki knew that this was the only way Jonghyun would start to trust him fully. Before he knew it, he had been pulled from the world he knew, into what he considered his worst nightmare. Although the surroundings seemed to be off colour, Jinki followed Jonghyun as he approached the large crowd in front of them.

“Don’t worry, Jinki. No one can see us; we can merely observe”

All those around them were clad in light shirts, breeches and top hats, with the women wearing long dresses and bonnets.

Jonghyun entered one of the small cottages in front of them, and what Jinki saw, broke his heart into pieces. He felt tears start to prick his eyes as he saw a young boy being pulled away from his father’s arms by two older men.

“Jonghyun, come on. We need to leave right now”

“I want dad. Can’t he go with us?”

“No, my child. He will join us later”

The crowd had turned into a frenzied mob who had begun to start shouting curses outside the door. The two men had barely managed to drag the young boy out through the back when the mob broke the door down. Seizing the boy’s father, they began to beat him mercilessly as they tore his shirt to tatters.

“Kill the witch and his kin. Burn them all”

The crowd had managed to drag the poor, screaming man outside and tied him to the large stake in the middle of the town. Calling upon everyone to come and watch, the leader lit a torch and threw it onto the hay under the stake.

The adult Jonghyun stood behind his child version, just watching the events, while Jinki only focused on the child who was crying silently. As the flames began to lick the man’s feet, he started to scream with pain. If he really was a witch, why couldn’t he have just used his powers to escape? The smell of singed flesh began to fill the air and the man soon breathed his last, right in front of his child, who stood transfixed until his father had been burnt to cinders.

Jinki wiped away the tears from his cheeks as he and Jonghyun were transported back to their own time.

“Now do you understand me, Jinki? My father gave his life for mine, and these mortals are to blame for all of it”

Unable to speak, Jinki took a step forward and embraced Jonghyun. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard his childhood had been. As he felt Jonghyun’s heart beating against his chest, Jinki was struck by a feeling that seemed to be utterly out of place. It felt good to hold Jonghyun close to him. It felt right, but Jinki had no idea why. He’d never wanted to feel close with anyone before, but now, it was all he wanted. If only he’d known Jonghyun earlier, he could have helped to erase the hatred from his heart. Even now, he couldn’t help but feel a little touched that Jonghyun had let him inside those thick walls of his. Although Jonghyun had guardians, he’d never had a friend to talk to. For someone who had only been fed hatred all his life, it would be close to impossible for him to get out of it. Yet, Jinki was more than willing to do his best. If he wanted Jonghyun to join him, he needed to show him the other side. The side where he would prosper.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up the way you did, Jonghyun”

“I don’t want your pity. I want you to join us and make the world great again”

“I have to think about it, this is too big a step for me to make any decision right now”

Knowing that if he followed his soft heart, he would end up somewhere he never wished, Jinki tried to think of anything that would become a barrier between them. Should he be honest about his true motives?

“Jonghyun, I had originally tried to find you so that you would join my coven. I didn’t expect the same invitation to be extended to me. I should tell you the truth now. I don’t hate humans, and I never have. I remember the day you lost everything. I was there too, but I wish we had been able to care for you. Times were different then, and the world really is changing. In fact, change is the only thing that is constant. Over the years. We have learnt to coexist with them. There is no more ‘them’ and ‘us’. Please try to understand that I’m only saying this because I care.”

Jonghyun felt something within him burst and felt the rage boil inside. Almost spitting with anger, he faced the only person to whom he had bared everything.

“Traitor”

“You’re wrong, Jonghyun. There’s so much more to life than hatred”

“You’re a disgrace to witches everywhere. You’ve seen what they have done, and yet you still stand in front of them?”

“Nothing is black and white anymore, try and understand”

“You will die along with the pitiful humans you’re trying to protect”

Since there was no way to end their conflict amicably, Jinki had no other choice but to assume his stance. Though it was clear that Jonghyun was more than skilled in blood magic, it was Jinki who had the stronger bloodline. Using blood in any type of spell, made it ten times more effective, and there was no doubt in Jinki’s mind that in order to win, he had to fight fire with fire. He did have one trick up his sleeve. A trick that no one knew about. Jinki had spent years perfecting the art of reading minds. Although he considered it as cheating, it wouldn’t be so bad to use it against someone like Jonghyun. All he needed to do was concentrate on Jonghyun’s face, until he was able to see past his head, into his mind. If given enough time, he would be able to pull up something that could help in changing Jonghyun’s mind, but for now, he would only focus on the attacks that were going to come his way.

Livid, Jonghyun nicked his skin to assist all of his magic and summoned a spell of fire to burn the man in front of him into ashes. Almost instantly, he noticed that Jinki was doing the same thing. As he sent forth his spell, he was shocked to see the counter spell that Jinki had sent. A spell of ice, which rendered his, useless. Shivering slightly from the cold, Jonghyun was stunned. How had Jinki so instinctively managed to outdo his magic? Instantly conjuring a spell that would create a dark cloud around him, he gasped as Jinki conjured a spell of light so bright that it almost blinded him. Did he have a different kind of power?

Jinki found it hilarious when he saw the expression of utter horror on Jonghyun’s face. For all it was worth, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was actually enjoying his little glimpse inside Jonghyun’s mind. Mind reading wasn’t the only power he had perfected. In fact, he also possessed the power of mind control, that he had inherited from his family. After shocking his handsome opponent by counteracting each of his spells, Jinki felt that it was time to amuse himself by making Jonghyun do things he normally wouldn’t. Now, what should he start with? How could he make the calm and composed man go totally out of control?

That expression on Jinki’s face was really started to unnerve him. The smirk seemed to signify a lot, and Jonghyun was really starting to panic a little. How had Jinki managed to figure out his every move? That level of intuition was so accurate, that it was just scary. As he continued to think, he sensed a presence of some kind. He felt as though someone with cold fingers was touching his head, and he started to feel shivers go down his spine. Sinking to his knees as he felt a sharp, piercing pain in his head, Jonghyun struggled to stop the old memories that started to resurface from wherever he had locked them. His earliest memory...from when he was a child...he saw himself as a toddler, laughing as his father lifted him and put him on the swings. His best friend back then was on the swing next to him. Though he was the son of a human, they had always acted if there was no difference at all. He saw them wearing matching clothes and spending hours just running around together. Whatever had happened to his childhood friend? Why was he getting this memory now?

As he was forcing Jonghyun to relive one of his favourite days, Jinki was still searching his mind for something else that he could use to bring him down. What he saw, really shocked him. It was an old memory after the time Jonghyun had been taken away by his guardians, where the young boy had overheard a conversation.

“I think the boy will be a good asset to us. It was a pity that he is an orphan now, but this just makes everything easier for us”

“We can raise him the way he was meant to be raised. We can make him into a machine, a puppet that works the way we want”

“Those humans need to be taught a lesson, and we can definitely make him hate them”

“Just make sure he never finds out that it was us who led the humans to his father”

“Sacrifices are necessary, and if he wasn’t of such a pure bloodline, he would be dead by now”

This was just crazy and extremely unexpected. He’d had to search Jonghyun’s memories for this particular one, which showed that some magic had been used to hide it. It appeared as though the boy’s guardians had found him and tried to obliterate his memory. Then they’d had a field day with training the impressionable child to do exactly what they wanted. It wasn’t Jonghyun’s fault that he had ended up like this, but theirs. The only way he could bring this person out of all of this, would be if he showed him what his guardians truly thought of him.

“Jonghyun, you’re so clueless”

“What the hell did you do to me?”

“Nothing. I just showed you things that you’ve forgotten. How to smile, how to be happy. It’s time you woke up and saw the truth that’s right in front of you”

For the first time in ages, Jonghyun wasn’t calm or poised. All he felt, was confusion. About everything he had ever known. Doubting himself for the first time, he walked towards his opponent with his head down.

“What is this truth you’re referring to?”

“Come with me and let me show you that I’m right”

By now, his confusion had transformed into curiosity, and he was more than ready to find out what was happening. Taking Jinki’s outstretched hand, Jonghyun instantly was transported to the lair of his guardians, under an invisibility spell. Not expecting what he was supposed to hear, he was about to make his presence known when his companion stopped him.

“Just listen, Jonghyun. You will soon understand”

Entering the open door, he came face to face with the two most powerful sorcerers he knew, but of course, they couldn’t see him. For some reason, their faces looked different, they didn’t seem happy at all. Judging by the frowns on their faces, it was obvious that they had been arguing for a while.

“Do you think that stupid boy would have done as we ordered him to?”

“He should have. We have trained him as well as one would train a lapdog”

“The stupid child thought we actually cared. You know, if he doesn’t prove to be useful anymore, do you think we can expose him, the way we did his father?”

“I think we should start working on that. If he brings that Jinki, then we don’t need him anymore. We can just brainwash Jinki and make him do our bidding”

Feeling tears start to prick his eyes, Jonghyun couldn’t listen to any more, and just dashed outside. Covering his face, he just sobbed as though his heart would break. After all, it had just been broken into pieces by the very people he loved as his family. When Jinki sat by him and slipped his arm around him, Jonghyun couldn’t believe that the person he considered an enemy, was actually embracing him. All this while, all he had known was hatred, but this small gesture made him feel warm inside. Just the feeling of companionship with someone who didn’t want to use him, made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years. Was this what it meant to be truly happy? Why was Jinki being so nice to him? Was it pity? All this while, he had done the bidding of someone else, without thinking by himself.

“Jinki, why are you doing this?”

“You’ve been brought up only to hate. I promise to show you that there is so much more”

As Jinki held Jonghyun in his arms and stroked his hair, he felt him become calmer. He was beginning to see the other side of Jonghyun. The side that those evildoers had tried to bury. There as so much that he had to show the person in front of him, who had been bred to hate.

“You know, Jonghyun, initially I wanted you to join my coven, but now I realize that it is not the priority anymore. I need to show you how different the real world is, from the world you grew up in. Don’t focus on these people anymore, let’s go”

“Wouldn’t they come for me?”

“We’ll take care of it, okay? Trust me”

Wiping his brimming eyes, Jonghyun opened up his heart for the first time and brought down all of his walls. Someone who was able to see into his mind, and still chose to be by his side, should never be let go. Using their combined magic to teleport, they ended up in the middle of a fairground.

“Jinki, where are we?”

“Let’s spend some time looking at life through the eyes of children. I know that I can never give you the childhood you lost, but I can try to help”

He knew this place, the colours and smells were s familiar to him. Looking around, he saw tons of brightly coloured balloons, and children holding great big globs of sweet-smelling, pink candy floss. Instantly transported back to his childhood, he grabbed Jinki’s hand, with a huge grin on his face.

“Can we go on the Ferris wheel?”

Although Jinki felt happy to see Jonghyun like this, it pained him to think of how lonely the child would have been. Forcing a smile on his face, Jinki followed his companion to the promised land.

As the ride started to move, all the people they’d seen, seemed like ants. Why couldn’t they look at their problems like that? For now, he could see the dazzling smile on Jonghyun’s face, and that was more than enough for him. His plan for the day was to give his new friend, the childhood he had lost. If Jonghyun was handsome normally, when he smiled, he looked like a prince. They laughed and played like children, and soon felt their troubles melt away. Being by each other’s side was definitely beginning to evoke some feelings, and they couldn’t help but interlock their fingers as they rode attraction after attraction. When they entered the haunted house, the sudden thrill they experienced was enough for them to cling together as ghouls popped out from their hiding places. They felt a certain kind of shock, as they hugged each other, but a pleasant one.

Jonghyun didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling so happy, but this was something he could certainly get used to. Perhaps it was finally time to start listening to his own emotions. He would forever be grateful to Jinki for showing him how happy life could actually be, but for now, there was something he wanted to do.

Finally. Jinki smiled to himself as he read the thoughts in Jonghyun’s mind and took it upon himself to make them reality. Sliding his arm around Jonghyun’s waist, Jinki dipped his head and kissed him. Although brief, the kiss was soft and sweet. The stars in Jonghyun’s eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever. The first step had been completed, and it was upto the two of them to see where their life would take them. It had been a very long time since Jonghyun had been shown genuine affection, and now, this was something Jinki would do each moment of every day. However, there was one question he needed to ask,

“So Jonghyun, would you like to join my coven?”

#fanfic #jongyu #shinee #jonghyun #onew #jinki #magicau #au #shineehalloweenficfest #ficfest

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thoughtprovider · 2 years

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TV Review: 1883

Tim McGraw as James Dutton, Sam Elliot as Shea Brennan, and Lamonica Garrett as Thomas in 1883

For the members of the viewing public who did not count themselves among the many watchers of Kurt Sutter’s biker melodrama Sons of Anarchy (2008-2014) or Rob Thomas’s young-adult detective dramedy Veronica Mars (2004-2019, technically), the name Taylor Sheridan likely did not come close to recognition, let alone ubiquity, until 2015. By that point Sheridan had already packed up his movie-star looks and dragged them in front of a laptop to become a full-time attempted writer. The opening salvo from his creative mind happened to land in the hands of one Denis Villeneuve, who was a couple of years away from becoming the science-fiction visionary to beat in the cinema space, but who was already making his bones as a helmer of art-serious thrillers in both French and English, one with great taste in cinematographers and composers and on-screen talent.

Together they would make Sicario, an instant crime-noir modern classic in a post- Breaking Bad media landscape that could not get enough of that stuff. It earned Sheridan a WGA nomination. The following year he’d release the piece that would prove his mix of masculine pondering and pulp camp was not something he tripped and fell into but that he had coming out of his pores with the release of Hell or High Water. A modern western with cool, sub-Coen one-liners and cooler actors saying them, directed by Scotsman David Mackenzie in what is perhaps an even better style fit than Villeneuve (though arguments can be made about who actually made a better picture). This earned him more nominations than is in good taste to list, though still no big award wins.

It would seem he, at this point, stopped looking for that kind of win and went for a gamble that should not have paid off as much as it did, with the Kevin Costner-starring Yellowstone. Yellowstone is the kind of show that, if one were to go only by its media discourse, one would be forgiven for thinking it Hillbilly Elegy on gear, or Ted Nugent presents the Sopranos.

In reality, Sheridan and his fine, game cast and collaborators has made a primetime action-soap that takes its placement in the Western genre seriously but little else. Politics play minimal part in the characters’ lives, not in the explicit way it does at people’s dinner tables. It is a paean to a way of life as rendered in turn-of-the-century paintings, and a loving depiction of the people who choose to live that way, or are forced to, not of a particular writer’s particular beliefs about a particular politic. It’s a Southern-accent party, and a hangout series, with much debt to a shows like Friday Night Lights or the short-lived MMA drama Kingdom, but obviously in the post-David Chase TV anti-hero lineage. Call it naturalistic camp, or pulp grit, but it’s mostly a good time with shortcomings in the serialized writing department (a show like Succession keeps its balls in the air a little more skillfully) that are easily overlooked because it’s, again, not taking itself too seriously, because, how could it? You’re there to root for the Duttons even when they’re wrong, to crush on the guys and gals, and so that’s what you do.

Enter 1883, a prequel-spinoff from the workaholic Sheridan about the early goings of that nascent Dutton empire. A product of the streaming wars and truly confusing rights deals; finally, something Yellowstone that Paramount can truly own. It’s less a crime-soap in Western clothes and more a classic Western in prestige limited-series clothes. It stars Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, Isabel May (of Young Sheldon, pulling double duty as our contralto narrator) and a resurgent Sam Elliot, but, like its parent series, the real star is hanging out in beautiful country, with great photography, and hearing cool characters say cool shit in a Southern accent. It’s got a novel’s pace and characters worth liking and hating.

Unlike its parent series, it takes place in a fictional Old West (Texas at the outset), which means its characters are allowed to partake in reckless outlaw violence without too much screen time being spent covering it up or pretending they didn’t mean it; there’s a lot less cutting deals with law-enforcement agencies, at least so far. It’s free to be its own cowboy elegy with as much or as little post-modernism as it likes, as opposed to the level required in an actual modern thing depicting modern people with modern, moral responsibilities.

At just a few episodes in, that makes it a thing that’s easy to like, if you like Westerns. For an example of the genre there’s very few caveats, except maybe the requirement that one be willing to watch Tim McGraw act (it turns out this isn’t too hard a task for one to do, as he is enjoyable here). It’s artful enough for those who like Sheridan’s work in film, and unpretentious enough for viewers who don’t know what a showrunner is, and until Quentin Tarantino makes his fabled Bounty Law series into a real thing, it’s the cowboy party that’ll have to do.

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latristereina · 6 years

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Ferdinand the Catholic was born on March 10th in 1452, on Friday at 2 p.m. in small Aragonese town, Sos. We know it thanks to original letter that is stored at the municipality of Alcira and which had been discovered by M. Gual Camarena. (I have no idea if the said letter is stored there at this point; the book I am using as a reference for that information was published in 1962)

His father John II of Aragon as a deputy of Valencia delivered such news to the Parliament of this city and his mother, Juana Enriquez, addressed directly the Cortes of Cataluña and the Cortes of the city of Barcelona for the same reason. Both messages arrived into respective places on March 27th. The Parliament of Valencia sent congratulations to John due to the birth of his second legitimate son, and decided to grant the messenger, Alfonso Pujalt, the gatekeeper of the king, the amount of 15 timbres of gold. The counselors of Barcelona, on the other hand, were more reluctant. The birth of Ferdinand wasn’t particularly celebrated there, given some problems the Parliament had to resolve at the moment.

It’s said his birth was surrounded by different legends. According to one of them, the arrival of the Aragonese prince into this world was announced by Carmelite monk who had appeared in front of Alfonso V of Aragon at Castillo Nuevo in Naples, and who told him that there, in Spain, an infante of his lineage had been born, the one who would be called the greatest of the Christian Princes. This symbolism clearly fit in with the Islamic triumph over Christianity, hence the belief the future ruler would hold back the intrusion of Muslims with the strength of his arm. According to other legend Ferdinand’s birth was announced by comets that had been circulating over the sky, moving from the lands of Aragon towards the lands of Castile and forward, towards the West. We can notice a reference to the later union between Aragon and Castile, and to the overseas expansion of The Catholic Monarchs. Such legends, clearly created by Ferdinand’s panegyrists, were rendered useless as historical sources.

But as a matter of fact, the fate of Ferdinand had been tied to warlike atmosphere since his birth. The place where he was born was in northern Aragon, close to the border with Navarre, where his father, John „the Great” was the king. Despite that, Ferdinand’s mother feeling she was about to give birth, left Navarre in a hurry, so the child could be born in Aragon. The prince’s birth coincided with the civil war in Navarre between John and his son by his first wife, Charles, The Prince of Viana.

John in 1420 married Blanca, the younger daughter of the king of Navarre, Charles III. Blanca became the heir apparent to the Navarrese throne after childless death of her older sister, Joan in 1413, and assumed the title of the Queen of Navarre in 1425, making John her consort. Meanwhile in 1421 John and Blanca had a son, the infante Charles, for whom, his grandfather Charles III created the duchy of Viana, located in the southwestern zone of the kingdom of Navarre, at the Castilian border.

A few years later, in 1433, Alfonso V passed the governorship of Aragon and Valencia over to his younger brother John, making him the regent of The Crown of Aragon and unofficial successor of his brother - who after settling himself in Naples once and for all, officially had entrusted his wife Maria with the policy of the Iberian Peninsula.

Blanca passed away in 1441, in her last will leaving the title of the King of Navarre to her husband, John, even though the said title lawfully belonged to their firstborn son, Charles. In 1447, John married Juana Enríquez the daughter of Fadrique, the Admiral of Castile. This way John had in his grasp the titles of the King of Navarre, the governor of Aragon and ensured his position in Castile. Ferdinand was the fruit of his marriage to Juana Enríquez. Even though the prince was born in Aragon, Castilian blood did flow through his veins; after his mother from the famous Enríquez family, and after his father who was the son of Ferdinand I from The House of Trastámara.

There is a tradition according to which the newborn baby was christened at the parish church of San Vicente and the ceremony was celebrated by the Bishop of Tarazona, Jorge de Bardaxí. The basin that allegedly the Catholic King was plunged into during his baptism is still being showed off as a kind of exhibit in Sos del Rey Católico. (It certainly was the case in 1962 when the book that I am using as a reference was published) However there is no documentation that would confirm this anecdote. On the other hand, a bunch of other circumstances refute it. The bishop of Tarazona would not have a chance to intervene in the alleged baptism in Sos; the prince was born in rather dramatic circumstances, given that at the time Villarroya and Villaluenga were taken by Gastón de la Cerda, the count of Medinaceli, on March 21th, in 1452. This resulted in a threat that he would reach Calatayud and the valley of Jalón; also a special committee had been appointed in order to face the Castilian invasion, the said committee consisted of forty members, including the said Jorge de Bardaxí, bishop of Tarazona. Also the febrile measures that had been taken by king John in order to destroy the plans of his enemies: the relocation of the prince of Vianna (Ferdinand’s half-brother) to the fortress of Mallén, in Aragon (April 13th) and his (John’s) departure for Tudela and then for Calatayud (May/June) in order to reconquer Villarroya; and finally, his disagreements with the Aragonese over the war efforts which made that campaign sterile. We can be sure that in those circumstances John didn’t think about great religious ceremony.

The family tradition rules out the village of Sos as a place of Ferdinand’s baptism. Ferdinand himself on one occasion claimed it was Saragossa where he had been baptised. Even though it may be surprising that he had had to wait almost eleven months before he was christened, his own words confirm that it was the case.

According to Zurita, who is the only source of the information at the moment, little Ferdinand was christened at the metropolitan church of San Salvador - on Sunday, February 11th in 1453. The baptism was conducted by Jorge de Bardaxí, bishop of Tarazona. Ramón de Castellón and Ciprés de Paternoy acted as his godfathers.

According to one of Ferdinand’s biographers, Jaime Vicens Vives, Ferdinand took more after his mother, both in looks and impulsive emotionality, however tenacious vigilance of his cold-tempered and calculative father, made him repress his emotions and passions under the responsibility of kingship.

About Ferdinand the Catholic:

Subsequent descriptions of Ferdinand verify that the prince was a vigorous and charming young man, who, if not exactly handsome by twentieth-century standards, was nevertheless quite attractive. An anonymous court historian later noted that Ferdinand had “marvelously beautiful, large slightly slanted eyes, thin eyebrows, a sharp nose that fit the shape and size of his face,” a slightly full, sensual mouth and lips that were “often laughing.” Although Ferdinand seems to have had a slight cast in his left eye, he had an attractive face framed by a high forehead. His well-shaped legs and an average height body were “most appropriate to elegant suits and the finest clothes.” Ferdinand was also an athlete, “a great rider of the bridle and the jennet, and a great lance thrower and other activities which he performed with a great skill and a grace.” The future king, Pulgar later observed, was also an excellent horseman who “jousted with ease and with so much skill that no one in his kingdom did it better…an avid sportsman and a man of good effort and much activity in war.” Ferdinand, like Isabella, was a compassionate individual who "felt sympathy for miserable people in unfortunate situations.” Naturally affable and gregarious, he had a “singular grace, to wit, that all who spoke with him at once loved him and wished to serve him.” Yet, despite his charm, Ferdinand was seemingly unflappable, a man in whom “neither anger nor pleasure could alter…very much.” His personal habits were similarly conservative and he exercised moderation in food and drink.

- Nancy Rubin Stuart. „Isabella of Castile: The First Renaissance Queen”

On the same day in 1503 Joanna I of Castile gave birth to her second son at the palace in Alcalá de Henares. The boy was named in honor of his maternal grandfather and became Ferdinand the Catholic’s favorite grandchild.

Ferdinand Habsburg arrived into this world in unpleasant circumstances. He was conceived during his parents stay in Spain, who had come to be sworn as the new heirs to the both kingdoms, since Juana’s older siblings and their respective offspring had passed away.

It seems that Juana and Philip had never been on good terms despite all the love she had for her husband. He had a great influence over her and didn’t show her any respect or tenderness, she basically suffered abuse at his hands, despite all this, they managed to produce children on regular basis.

Philip clearly didn’t like Spanish culture, cuisine and didn’t speak the language, and it seems like he was waiting for the occasion to run away and such occurred in October 1502, when he and his wife travelled to Saragossa to be sworn as the heirs to the kingdoms of Aragon, on October 27. On the same day when the ceremony was to take place, king Ferdinand received the news from Madrid that his wife had fallen gravely ill - in such circumstances he didn’t hesitate to leave everything and hurry to be by Isabella’s side. He named his son-in-law the deputy of the kingdom and abandoned his patrimonial realms, going to Castile. Philip was sworn as the general deputy on November 2, but the next day abandoned Saragossa, worsening the situation.

He left pregnant Juana behind, who a couple of days later decided to follow into his footsteps, most likely asking her paternal aunt Joanna (the younger sister of Ferdinand the Catholic) for taking care of everything. Despite of Isabella and Juana’s pleas Philip abandoned Spain, whereas Juana stayed with her parents.

It was a hard time for Juana who missed her beloved husband. After giving birth to her fourth child on March 10th, 1503 in Alcalá de Henares, where the princess and her parents had spent Christmas of 1502, her depression and frustration got even worse. She didn’t hesitate to do anything in her power to come back to Flanders, not taking little prince’s tender age into consideration.

Little Ferdinand was christened at San Justo (today known as Catedral de los Santos Niños Justo y Pastor de Alcalá de Henares), his grandmother Isabella donated 3.750 maravedies on this occasion.

Juana’s determination to leave Spain to be with Philip and three of their children whom she had left behind, worsened her relations with Isabella. The Queen would rather have her grandchildren brought to Spain, so they could be raised alongside their mother and their newborn brother. Juana kept crying and moaning, speaking gruffly to her beloved ones, and Isabella fell ill again due to those divergences with the heiress. The physicians of the Queen wrote a letter to king Ferdinand, who at the time was in Rosellón, on June 20th of the same year, to inform him that his wife was gravely ill once more, suffering from high fevers and they also touched upon the matter of Juana’s grave emotional state which, according to them, was the cause of deterioration in her mother’s health. Juana didn’t want to eat, couldn’t sleep and was showing signs of deep depression, being sad and gloomy, all the time missing her husband.

Isabella was afraid Juana would decide to act on her own and for her own safety had her placed at La Mota Castle in Medina del Campo. Juana couldn’t stand this fact and when she noticed the gate was closed, she refused to come back to her chambers despite the fact it all occurred in November, staying outside, even though the weather was cold. Isabella despite her poor health travelled from Segovia to Medina del Campo to comfort her daughter, who, it seems, had wanted to force her mother to pay attention to her demands. Isabella and Juana fell out during this meeting, given Juana’s behavior and the scandalous tone she used while speaking with her mother, which caused Isabella’s indignation.

Under such pressure the Queen eventually let her heiress go - the princess left Spain in spring of 1504, however given little Ferdinand was still a baby who shouldn’t participate in such voyage, it was agreed for him to be raised in Spain by his maternal grandparents.

About Ferdinand I in his youth:

In all aspects, such as nature, expression, and bearing, and all other things, he resembled the king, don Fernando, his grandfather. By nature he was predisposed to artistic things, such as painting and sculpting, and above all, to sculpting things from metal and doing gunpowder shots and throwing them. He enjoyed listening to chronicles and tales, and remembered everything (…) some of the things he said, when he was a five year old child, till nine or ten years of age, were so clever, so discreet, that everyone was amazed.

- Fray Álvaro de Osorio (x)

Sources:

“Historia Critica de La Vida y Reinado de Fernando II de Aragon”, Jaime Vicens Vives

“Między wojną a dyplomacją. Ferdynand Katolicki i polityka zagraniczna Hiszpanii w latach 1492-1516″, Filip Kubiaczyk

“Isabel la Católica: vida y reinado“, Tarsicio de Azcona

“Isabel the Queen: Life and Times”, Peggy K. Liss

“Isabella of Castile: The First Renaissance Queen”, Nancy Rubin Stuart

#perioddramaedit #historyedit #ferdinand ii of aragon #ferdinand the catholic #ferdinand i holy roman emperor #ferdinand i of habsburg

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