#but anyway here I am sitting here reading this ancient poetry and the human experience has hardly changed at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alchemist-shizun · 5 years

Text

I Can See My Kingdom Now

Read on Ao3!

Chapter 1: Arcadia’s Lost Boy

Word Count: 7,750

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Deceit. (There will be Emile and Remy in one chapter)

Pairing(s): Eventual Logicality and Prinxiety. (hints to Royality, they’re forced into an arranged marriage)

Warnings for this chapter: Mention of blood and bruises, Asthma attack,(nothing really heavy, but I decided to warn you anyway.)

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a kingdom which rose above all others thanks to its everlasting prosperity. Of course, there had been outer conflicts, but there wasn't a citizen who wouldn't say they were pretty content with the life they were conducting. It was called "the kingdom of Arcadia" and it was praised by foreigners because of how it resembled a constant Golden Age. Many had tried before to learn the secret to reach wealth and accomplishment. But the truth was that in order to understand and obtain peace, you initially have to first-hand witness and experience the worst of misfortunes. The royalty had intimated the whole people to never spread a word about the mishap out of the walls of Arcadia. It had shaken their inner tranquility so much they refused to talk about it publicly, it quickly became a taboo. Along with dark magic, since it was linked to the tragic story they had gotten themselves into. So sit back now and listen carefully to the tale I'm about to tell because this is the story of Arcadia and its long lost prince.

A/N: I decided to post it on here too instead of only ao3, so here it is! Won’t be saying much except that the summary is literally the first part of the fic so everything is under the cut. Enjoy!

✾

❝ I am a lost boy from Neverland Usually hanging out with Peter Pan And when we're bored we play in the woods Always on the run from Captain Hook "Run, run, lost boy," they say to me Away from all of reality. ❞

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom which rose above all others thanks to its everlasting prosperity. Of course, there had been outer conflicts, but there wasn't a citizen who wouldn't say they were pretty content with the life they were conducting.

It was called "the kingdom of Arcadia" and it was praised by foreigners because of how it resembled a constant Golden Age. Many had tried before to learn the secret to reach wealth and accomplishment.

But the truth was that in order to understand and obtain peace, you initially have to first-hand witness and experience the worst of misfortunes. The royalty had intimated the whole people to never spread a word about the mishap out of the walls of Arcadia.

It had shaken their inner tranquility so much they refused to talk about it publicly, it quickly became a taboo. Along with dark magic, since it was linked to the tragic story they had gotten themselves into.

So sit back now and listen carefully to the tale I'm about to tell because this is the story of Arcadia and its long lost prince.

✾ ✾ ✾

You need to know that there were many little villages, every so often nameless ones, at the furthest corners of the kingdom. One of these was peculiar for the gorgeous and almost mystical forests that it presented, it was completely surrounded by green spots and only the center was inhabited by a modest group of families. There weren't many citizens, but it was big enough to host a school and an orphanage. The people who lived there didn't have the brightest or loudest of careers, but they were fine in their own quiet place, everybody knew each other and harmony ruled over them. It looked unnatural. It was as if the idyllic locus amoenus that was part of the ancient bucolic poetry came to life.

And who wouldn't be more eager to play in these natural parks than little kids? Or maybe two particular little kids, characterized by their adventurous behavior and childlike audacity, which let them feel able to face any threat the woods had to offer.

Especially Raegan, who was the brightest of the two: Raegan was a seven-year-old boy with a desire to just live the world, he was part of the local orphanage and didn't recall who his parents were. The weird thing was that neither did the orphanage runners: the adults only remembered this three-year-old kid wandering around the town, in simple white robes, the boy's face was stained with dirty spots and some minor wounds and scratches. They had thought he got lost and hurt in the forest, but none claimed to know him. That's why they took him in and cared for him, gave him a name and waited for his parents to manifest. But nobody came.

Orphans weren't really treated any differently than kids in families, they were part of a big family themselves, they went to a regular public school and played together with the other children, so they were merged into a big crowd of small people. They would make friends and meet up at these friends' houses, maybe even have meals there.

Here Raegan met a little Virgil Mòros, the typical shy kid who didn't know how to approach other children. Their friendship started off with small talks and those that you could call adjustments to one another. Raegan watched him play with toys on his own, while he preferred running around, racing other kids, any physical movement was enough for him to get excited, really. It was an epiphany for him when they found out a ball to play with.

Their first conversations were mostly like:

"Do you want to play with us over there?"

"No, it's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I don't want to."

"Alright."

Then it became more like: "We're trying to set up a new game, wanna join?" but the answers were always different versions of "no". Raegan was a bit perplexed as to he didn't understand how he could make the kid open up, but little did he know that one day he'd have an idea that would lead them to become the closest of friends.

Raegan had come up to him and sit down in front of him, getting his attention.

"Hey! Can I play with you?" Virgil had looked at him for a split second, then a faint smile had crossed his lips, he had then proceeded to hand him a bunch of his toys, that were some little animals, and a couple of human-like figures.

"Sure."

"How do we play?"

"I usually make up stories to put my toys in."

Raegan's face had lit up so much that moment, he hadn't really ever thought of doing that, who knew how fun it would be!

"That's so cool! You're Virgil, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm Raegan! And I'd love it if I could please make up the story this time?", he had put his hands together in a pleading act. Virgil couldn't help but nod at him.

"Of course, there's no problem."

Raegan had presented the brightest of smiles and he took up a bunch of toys; the story was about the two of them being part of the Royal Guard, they were the true mighty heroes who were the only hope against the infamous Dragon Witch.

Virgil had been more than amazed at the creativity of his new playfellow, which had made him pretty happy to play with the boy in the first place, not to mention that he was having the most fun he ever had compared to when he was by himself. When he was alone he'd just stay sit in that one spot; on the other hand, Raegan used his dinosaur toy to pretend it could fly around the playground, so the two had to follow it around, sometimes even run to "catch up" with it.

So as Raegan had entered his bubble, Virgil was slowly adapting to the other's personality. After that day they quickly became inseparable, they even met up multiple times out of school: this is where they started to explore bit by bit the forest next to Virgil's home and found out other ways to play.

In fact, they stopped using toys and started doing actual make-believe, sometimes they even dressed up for the different occasions they had to perform. They would walk around and pretend to have other identities, to be in faraway places, to live in castles or palaces. Raegan's favorite role to play was the knight: he would pick up any long enough stick and use it as his "perfectly manicured sword", any flying animal would be one of his mortal enemies he had to protect Virgil from, who every time claimed to be "actually able to stand for himself, thank you very much." but with a smile on his face.

One day they'd be alone against the world, the other they'd be against each other, the other one they would just practice sword fighting together. It was fun, it was different, they eventually ended up all dirty and tired from all the fictitious traveling.

But they were best friends, that was all that counted. True, until they reached their tenth birthday.

✾ ✾ ✾

When Raegan and Virgil were busy being ten-year-old kids, two other boys were busy being teenage messes. But oh, you first need to know about Arcadia's fellow kingdom, Tinfea. Its royal family had been a great hand for Arcadia's king and queen: apart from being of help to rise up again after the attempt to overthrow Arcadia's government, they also offered to intervene in the search for their missing child.

The two families were close, first of all, the Tinfea sovereigns lent their seer's abilities to see into the future and locate the lost boy: his name was Logan Diànoia and had had the power of magic in his veins ever since he was born. His parents had died in ... particular circumstances and the sovereigns decided to take him in and provide him with both regular and magic lessons even if he was little. He had always had quite a passion for learning, his curiosity also benefited him in expanding his knowledge and mind. Not that you would only find him in his chambers or in the library constantly studying, well mostly, but he was also a good friend of the royalty's only child, Patton Pàis.

There were many times in which nobles would meet up with the Royals and bring their kids to play with Patton, but most of the time he'd be alone, so Logan was enough for him to be of good company. They ended up having lessons together, sometimes Logan would even teach or lecture him; Patton found his way of speaking pretty funny, he sounded like an old cultured man in the body of a child. Despite being opposed to a lot of entertaining activities, the seer didn't really stop the prince from having fun: he would just watch over him and prevent him from getting hurt, though it had happened that Patton had played tricks on him to let him have some fun for once too. Like that one time he made Logan chase him when he actually wanted to play tag. Then Patton would smirk at his out of breath friend, realization would hit Logan and he'd just smile and say "You sly little kid."

"You're a kid too, Logan ..."

"Regardless."

There were also quiet moments in which they would lay on the grass and look at the sky, and the little prince was more than happy to stay silent and listen to his friend's voice that traveled through different flows of thought, to the point he would somehow start philosophizing. He always sounded passionate during these moments and appreciated Patton for listening every time.

Logan was fourteen when he was busy being a teenage mess, staying up late to find ways of helping the kingdom of Arcadia, catching some innocent animals to practice his spells on, feeling bad when he failed at them and always pushing himself to the limit. He was consulting an enormous spells book, being a medium-level mage by then, to find an exact way to track the prince of Arcadia when a thirteen-year-old Patton knocked on his door.

It was fairly late at night, so Logan found himself surprised to see him awake.

« I wasn't expecting you here, Patton. » his affirmation sounded more like a question to himself.

The shorter boy showed a quick smile only to look down right after, he seemed kind of gloomy.

« Yeah, I wasn't either. » his voice like a whisper.

Logan arched an eyebrow, his body was aching with worry. « Are you feeling quite alright? Please, sit down. »

The only words that escaped Patton's mouth were "No, it's-" as the seer led him to his desk and then proceeded to stand right in front of him. He honestly had to cover up how glad he was to see him- wait, what was he thinking?

« Thank you, Lo, but I just ... wanted to ask you something. »

Oh, boy.

« Go ahead. »

« Well, you know how we've been friends since we were little? »

What is this feeling?

« Yes, what are you implying? »

« Uh, you know I've never asked you anything and respected your magic? »

Oh. Logan was taken aback because of where the conversation was going. Or was that disappointment in his face?

« Please, be clear, what is it that you need? » Patton started fidgeting and wasn't really able to look at him in the eyes.

« I ... I need you to cast a spell on me. »

« What? » Logan lost at words? This sure was something.

« Listen, I have good reasons- »

« Patton, I am not a full magician yet, who knows what could happen! Plus you do not need any kind of magic, if it is an excuse you're looking for to escape some sort of lecture, then I shall help in different ways. »

He stopped when he noticed his friend looking up at him and giving him a sad smile, so he walked up to him slowly, staring at him, a sense of dread forming in his stomach. His look just screamed "What's going on?".

« It's different this time. » Patton took a deep breath, picking at the chair's wood, too anxious to talk any longer than that.

« I haven't been of help at all with this lost prince thing ... My family is supposed to look for him in the first place, but ... I can't do anything for them, I feel kind of ... useless. » if his voice was breaking, then Logan's emotions were shattering upon hearing his closest friend say such severe words.

« What ... are you talking about? » Logan sounded almost hurt, why would he belittle himself like that? But most importantly, how long had he been thinking about this? And why didn't he tell him sooner?

« Logan, you can see it too, I'm not contributing to anything- »

« You're only thirteen- »

« -which is why » Patton marked that last word to grab his attention « I was thinking: if I were able to draw somewhere the image you pictured in your head of the prince's face, then maybe it would be easier for them to see it and for us to look for him, wouldn't it? »

The seer just sighed « Your point? »

« I'd like you to find a spell that would give me the skills to do that. » Patton spoke these words so firmly that Logan thought he was talking to his father instead.

« You want drawing skills. » Patton simply nodded, serious in the eyes « So that I can project into your mind the prince's exact looks and you can represent it on paper to help Arcadia's king and queen. » another nod.

Logan was about to yell at him for how stupid that sounded, tell him that he didn't have to prove himself to anyone in order for them to love him or judge his worth, that he didn't have to do this at all, that he should instead tell him why he was feeling so wrong, but every thought died in his head. He wanted to be a good friend, but little did he know he was about to be the most selfish one.

The older one took too long to respond, so Patton's hope was fading away bit by bit and his face started falling, and Logan just couldn't bear to see him like that, he felt responsible for his friend's happiness at this point. He wouldn't let him down now, would he?

He wasn't really one of those touchy people, but he found himself making his way toward the boy and placing a hand on his shoulder, « I just ... don't want to hurt you. » he wore a concerned expression that the prince couldn't help but understand. Of course he was scared, he had never practiced his magic on humans before, he didn't find it quite correct.

Patton smiled then settled his own hand on the other's arm « I know. But I trust you, that's why I came to you! »

« I'm not sure this is a good idea, though. »

« You should be more conscious of your own abilities, Logan. » he then presented a smirk and leaned in, as if he were up to tell a secret. « Aren't you in fact the best and youngest mage in the whole kingdom? »

A grin crept on the seer's face « I have still to reach perfection. » he admitted, stepping away from the boy a couple of paces. They shared a look, then Logan gave in and faced the multiple books on his bed and started to go through their index.

« I'll see what I can do. »

Patton lit up immediately and basically ran to hug him tight and thank him over and over again, in the meantime Logan froze and stopped working for as long as the boy held him in his arms. Damn him and his powers over him.

But most importantly, damn feelings.

He spent half an hour looking at different Latin names and descriptions that never exactly matched what he was looking for, the prince in the meantime had peacefully fallen asleep on the desk. Finally, two spells got his attention: one simply gave any skill you wished for that lasted a week from the moment in which it was cast, the other would give you an everlasting perfect ability, but you had to pay the price.

Of course it was death, specifically, the cursed person would be dying the day before their wedding at 23:59. Wedding. Logan suddenly remembered the most logical thing that was going to happen if the Pàis family was going to be the one finding the prince of Arcadia, that is Patton was going to obviously get married with this boy once he'd reached adult age.

Something hit his heart real hard as realization set into him, he felt paranoia eat his mind away; he had to just admit it to himself, the only problem with him was that he had been crushing on Patton for quite a while now.

So there was a voice in his head.

Logan was a fourteen-year-old boy who still didn't have enough common sense to understand right and wrong, he was just a servant with little to no other job than to provide the sovereigns with information. He never did anything wrong, but there was always a first time. The voice in his head was just too loud, screaming "if you can't have him, then none else would". He didn't mean to do such a mess, he still didn't know where that was going to go.

« Fine! » he shouted at himself, slamming his hands on the book, the sudden movement woke Patton up in an instant. He looked up at Logan, curiosity in his eyes. « Did you find anything? » he asked followed by a yawn.

« Yeah but ... » he looked at the angelic little princely face, « ... there's only one. And it's dangerous. » how could he do this?

« What for? »

Logan started explaining, but he regretted his decision as he was talking about his inevitable death. Maybe that part would scare him enough to just let it go. Maybe another prince or princess would find the boy and he could still have some kind of chance, maybe-

« Do it. »

« I apologize, what did you just say? »

« Do it. » Patton ordered firmly, a serious look on his face to mark how determined he was about it.

« You want me to place a curse on yourself. »

« If it's the only way then so be it. I don't care, I'll have eight years to prepare for the inevitable day. » he sounded insecure about that one last bit, but it looked like he wasn't going to back down any sooner.

Logan was just whispering "I can't let you do this." when he was cut off by Patton's « And besides, death will eventually come for me anyway. » he laughed it off in a vain attempt to lighten up the mood.

« I don't think I can- »

« Please. » Patton put his hand on Logan's « Do it for me, okay? »

God damn it.

And there he was, giving up to his longtime friend yet again. He couldn't believe he was actually placing a curse upon the prince of Tinfea. His best friend. The one he lo- cared about.

To make him feel better about himself.

Some disturbing red lights began floating around the room, Logan's eyes darkened until every spot of his pupils was pitch black, he raised his hand toward the boy in front of him and drew a sharp symbol into the air, he then proceeded to recite the Latin formula, he pointed his finger to the symbol which flew against Patton and hit him hard, causing him to shield his face with his arms. And just like that, everything was back to normal.

Logan was breathing heavily and Patton felt definitely shaken from what he had just seen, he looked up at his friend and worried instantly for him; he let him sit down and catch his breath for a couple of minutes, providing him with some water to support him. How much of his energy did that thing take away from him?

« How about you try it out? Let's see if it worked? »

« Uh, sure. » Patton stepped away with uncertainty and took some paper and ink, he locked eyes with a particular weirdly shaped object of the room and started drawing it from reference. After some minutes he had already finished and was shocked at how well and detailed it turned out, he showed it to Logan excitedly and started jumping around from happiness.

But the whole deal wasn't yet done. « Are you okay to let me see his face or ...? »

« I can handle it, I'm fine. »

Logan made him sit right across him, then he stared into his eyes, focused, and thought about just putting his knowledge into the other's head; it was when Patton's eyes widened that he realized he had actually succeeded. Patton started drawing immediately, concentration stuck in his expression. It didn't take him long to be done with it.

Logan looked down at the picture and almost fell out of his chair.

« It's ... » Patton listened to him carefully « ... exactly what I have seen. Patton, it is ... perfect. »

✾ ✾ ✾

The day it happened Virgil and Raegan decided to visit the forest early in the morning so they could have enough time to play before the inevitable appearance of the royalty of Arcadia: after they found out the appearances of their missing child, they started traveling the whole kingdom in order to find him at all costs. They said they made 10-year-old kids line up and get compared to a certain picture, so that was what was going to happen to Virgil and Raegan too, but first, they had to get cleaned, dressed in the best robes they had, boring stuff that would take up too much of their precious acting time. That's why they went there earlier than ever.

It was a pleasant and clear spring day, they noticed the multiple flowers that had been growing while they pretended to be pirates in the latest weeks, they also saw more birds flying around out of their nests and making pleasant sounds as they battered their wings.

They changed the storyline of their make-believe for that special occasion in which they brought with them their wooden swords fabricated by the local woodworker that had taken a liking into them because of their passion for nature. Raegan was leading the way as a gentle breeze flew through his little red cape, which was actually only an old ripped shirt of Virgil's father. He followed the path they had learned by heart, which led to a clear pond that they had always seen frozen during winter. A couple of waterlilies were lying gently on the surface of the water. The place looked magical.

Raegan looked back at his companion, then stretched out his arm to him « Here take my hand. »

« I thought I was your knight, not a damsel in distress. »

The orphan boy rolled his eyes but smirked at the remark « We have to do your investiture first. Come along, young man. »

Virgil took his hand anyway and let him help down the little steep hill that separated them from the pond. They walked up to it, then Raegan turned to his friend smiling, the light of the sun hitting the back of his head, which gave his already messy hair a goldish brown color.

They imagined they were in a castle's throne room full of festooning of red and gold hanging from different areas of the Great Hall, the whole kingdom present, breaths held as they waited for their prince to speak, they were hanging on his future words.

Virgil bowed down his head, placing his left knee on the ground and bending his right one, he then placed his right hand on it, while his wooden sword was laying on the ground not too far off from him.

« Virgil Mòros. » Raegan looked down at him with a solemn expression, he raised his sword and lightly placed its blade first on one and then on the other shoulder, while he was speaking the words « I, prince Raegan, hereby declare you as my first personal knight and head of the Royal Guard. »

The golden eyed boy took off his cape and draped it across Virgil's shoulders. Virgil stood up after that and all he could say was « "Hereby declare"? How do you even know what that means? »

Raegan gave him an annoyed look « Soft you, now! I just gave you a title, behave. », then he walked off somewhere imprecise and left Virgil wondering what kind of books he read at the orphanage. It wasn't the first time he said weird lines and wouldn't even know what they meant exactly. It was as if he just knew the right context.

Virgil was forced to snap out of his thoughts when an impossibly fast animal ran past them and stopped thirty meters away from them, keeping a fierce stance; it looked like it was smirking at them from afar. The creature that was staring at them showed off its orangish-red and white fur glowing under the sun, it appeared to be quite a mystical form with those shining yellow irises that kinda matched Raegan's. He was, in fact, the one struck by its charm, how could a simple fox like that appear so majestic? He felt like he wanted to be like it too. Small, but important.

The fox took a few steps towards the boys, it didn't seem like it wanted to be friendly, more like to challenge them, chin up and mischievous gaze. The two friends shared a look.

« It clearly wants us to approach. »

« I don't think it is a good idea. »

« Then what do you suggest, my fellow knight? » Raegan turned to his best friend with a radiant smile, keeping up their make-believe.

« Maybe we should take some steps forward too? »

« So we'd be safe if it wants to attack us or we won't scare it away quickly? » Virgil simply nodded.

« Smart thinking. Then I shall face it. » his tone sounded so dramatic he could hear Virgil roll his eyes from behind him. He took a step forward, but before his foot could touch the ground again the animal was already sprinting away, causing Raegan to immediately run after it and, of course, the other villager couldn't help but follow them. Who knows where the fox would lead them? A whole new world to explore? Would they find new roles to play? Or maybe it was taking them to its own home, trusting them enough to let them into the forest's unseen.

But the chase had been going on for quite a while, the animal wasn't giving any sign of slowing down and Virgil felt like he was experiencing the whole forest over again at maximum speed, he couldn't even remember where they had left or how long would it take to go back home. Raegan's rapture, on the other hand, made him able to keep up with the fox, and easily avoid any obstacle, it was his determination that was giving him the energy to run as fast as he possibly could and enough breath to jump every other meter.

Why was following that animal so tempting? Raegan felt like he couldn't stop though he didn't quite acknowledge the reason why, there was something fascinating about it, but other than that he felt like he was being pulled. He wasn't aware he was only going to find trouble: Virgil wasn't used to running this much.

« Hey. Prince? » no response.

Virgil wasn't able to catch his breath, his heart beating too fast. « Ra- Raegan? »

He wasn't listening.

He was about to call him again when he gasped for air and before he could do anything else he found himself losing balance and falling face down onto the ground with a loud thud. He had tripped over something he couldn't yet comprehend, his head lightly hit the ground and was now covered in dirt and some green from the grass around the spot he dropped his whole body into. Raegan turned instantly and his eyes widened at the sight, causing him to stop and tripping over his own feet, not used to the sudden stop.

He caught himself and glanced over to his right where the fox was now long gone, knowing he will hardly ever see it again; he wanted to rush over to his friend but he felt his limbs as heavy as his breath. He felt as if everything was moving in slow motion around him, the weight of his body too excessive to bear. He looked like a zombie as he was hardly taking steps.

Virgil in the meantime had been able to push himself up on his hands, despite the skin on his palms was burning with blood and dirt, he looked up at Raegan with a pained expression as he slowly got to his knees to check on Virgil.

Somehow the fallen boy still hadn't caught his breath, which sometimes got mixed up with small coughs; Virgil thought this feeling was normal, he had never run that fast for that long, he had felt pain in his chest after running before. But this time it was worse than just simple pain, it felt as if his lungs were shrinking with every breath he took, even his heartbeat didn't hint to slow down at all, it only increased together with the speed of his breaths. He could no longer inhale, nor exhale through his nose. He was scared stiff.

« Virgil? » Raegan's concerned tone hardly reached his ears as he covered them in fear. « Virgil, what is happening? » of course there was no response. But Raegan either thought it was because he was too afraid to talk, or his state didn't let him talk. He tried to lock eyes with him, to see if somehow they could communicate, but little did he know that the boy in front of him was unable to talk and was panicking because he didn't know what he was going through. The only sound that went out of his mouth was the wheezing of his breathing becoming even more persistent as time passed and as anxiety grew into them.

Raegan reached for his friend as Virgil crouched down, embracing himself, arms almost touching his knees, frightened eyes wide open and anguish starting to swell up in his chest. He did not know what was going on, nor did he know how to stop, the only thing he was aware of was that he was quickly getting worse, he couldn't control his own breathing, he couldn't control his whole body, he felt miserable. He couldn't help his own self and he was just terrified. He felt like he was choking. This was it.

« Oh my goodness, Virgil! » Raegan did not realize what kind of situation he got them into, panic started to set into him too, but as a prince would do he reminded himself that in alarming situations he needed to stay calm for the both of them: he needed to find a solution, to act fast. He tried to grab his attention by calling his name multiple times, never getting a reaction.

So he attempted to concentrate all the composure in his voice « Hey, buddy, can you hear me? » and he didn't get a single response. Not a twitch of the hand in his direction, no sign with his head. Oh dear, this was bad and it was all his fault. He chocked back the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes because of the stress and the guilt. « I will help you move, okay? Bear with me, please. You'll be okay. » his voice cracked at the end of the sentence, which sounded more like a reassuring to himself than to the other. He was going to be okay, he was gonna do this, he knew he could. « I promise. »

First of all, Raegan slowly pushed his knees down, so Virgil could go back to his previous sitting position, then he lightly grabbed his wrists and proceeded to lower his arms, showing how his face had gone even paler and sweaty. He accompanied the arms down to his sides and then helped him sit up straight against the tree behind them. Raegan felt a sense of relief as he noticed Virgil's breathing starting to ease up, he now believed in both of them more than before, he was sure he had this. But of course, he wasn't quite there yet. The boy's chest was still visibly going up and down at non-regular speed.

Raegan paid attention not to touch him in any risky spot as he encouraged him to look at him in the eyes: that was the first time he had noticed how different the two irises were from one another, bronze and emerald bind together. He made sure Virgil was focused on him as he spoke. « I need you to try to follow me, okay? » even though there was still a tone of worry in his voice, for the first time he got a slight nod from the other kid « Good, we're going to slow it down. I need you to be patient and relaxed. »

He settled down right in front of him, fixing his gaze on Virgil's face. He mirrored the boy's movements and was able to coordinate their breathing; the first thing he did afterward was to inhale a tick slower, then he did the same thing while breathing out. He kept doing this until Virgil would match him, then he would slow down again and repeat the cycle till he was finally properly breathing again.

They sit there for a couple of minutes to ease up from all the tension that was brought by the previous circumstances, Virgil had closed his eyes while Raegan had gotten all cuddled up next to him, still on alert in case it happened again.

« I have no idea what that was. »

« It never happened before? »

« No. I don't like it. » Virgil knew it wasn't a normal response to some running around, even for someone who wasn't used to do that.

Silence fell between the two as they were both filled with the void of ignorance on the matter, not knowing if they had to worry that much or if they had to wait more. The innocence of two children.

It wasn't long until Raegan broke the peaceful moment.

« I'm sorry. » he looked down at his feet and felt the same guilt from earlier building up again, it was him that insisted on chasing after an incredibly agile animal, for a moment he didn't look back at his best friend, he felt wrong because he now believed his friend would think he didn't care. What if now he'd stop playing with him or spend time with him or-

« What for? »

« Uh? »

« You said you were sorry. Why? »

Raegan wasn't sure he had understood. « For clearly hurting you? Or scaring you to death? I don't even know where to start! » it was so obvious he failed to get why Virgil wasn't blaming him in the first place.

« You didn't know. I didn't know. Plus you helped me recover. » he turned to his sorry friend and gifted him with a reassuring smile, to which the other responded to the same way. « Now that I mention it, how did you know how to ...? » Virgil made some gestures as he did when he didn't know how to explain himself, which was kind of adorable.

« One of the children at the orphanage had been crying for half an hour one day and was unable to stop, so I saw one of my oldest brothers walk up to him and doing the same thing I did. » Virgil tilted his head while Raegan was staring at a fixed point in front of him, as if he was spacing out, then he displayed his best impression of a 17 year old that sounded more like an old man and pointed his finger at the tree ahead of them « And he told him to man up, boy, you got some dishes to clean! »

Both of them burst out laughing at that, as the impression was so good and yet so terrible it sounded perfect.

« Did he do the dishes then? »

« Nah, I had to do them. » Raegan sighed so profoundly at the memory he shook his head, that altogether caused Virgil to laugh even more.

The comfortable silence fell back on them after some more goofing around, memories flying in their minds of other events, but they chose not to revive them with spoken words.

Then they remembered as their gaze fell on Virgil's cape.

« What would you do if you were an actual prince? » Raegan was caught off guard by the other's question, but that surely was an interesting argument. Being part of the royalty in their minds meant being able to do anything, you'd have magicians at your side, the possibility of changing the rules whenever you wanted, what was there not to do?

« I'd probably order my whole kingdom to have desserts at every single meal. Anyone who'd get caught not eating cake would get arrested and executed in the main square. »

« Woah, drastic. »

« But there'll be cake hour ... »

« Cake hour. » Virgil repeated, amused at his friend's idea.

« Cake hour, Virgil. It's important. » Raegan warned him as if it was the first priority in their lives.

« Why don't we have a cake hour at school? »

« Now that's a nice question! »

Their cake discourse, sadly, was abruptly interrupted by the distant chime of bells: they looked at each other with a panicked expression, that was the sign that the royalty of Arcadia and Tinfea had arrived at their village and all the 10-year-old boys had to show up before them. And Raegan and Virgil were still in the forest, dirty and bruised. They were dirty, bruised and also late. They immediately got up and decided to walk with wide steps in order to be as fast as they could and to prevent the whole breathing issue to present again.

After Raegan had helped Virgil up, before he could do anything the little knight wrapped his arms around his friend, who was taken aback by the sudden hug, but didn't hesitate to return it immediately. Virgil murmured a soft “thank you”, still uneasy from before.

They filled their way to the center planning whichever lie they were gonna say once they got back: they were chased by a giant animal and got hurt, scared and had to hide away for a while. It wasn't like either of them was gonna be the prince they were looking for anyway, they were just two kids in a tiny village. It wouldn't have made any sense.

Or so Virgil thought.

✾ ✾ ✾

Patton felt another wave of excitement as he checked the new kids he had to examine from a distance; he held his drawing close, the tips of his fingers brushing lightly against the margins of the paper. He sensed the portrait of the lost prince nearly weighing against his chest. He took a deep breath as the king and queen received the last regards from the village's inhabitants, Logan at his side gave him a reassuring nod, despite being a tad nervous himself: he felt like he had already seen the place somehow, like it held some kind of familiar trait he couldn't quite put his finger on, it was frustrating.

They were about to begin when a couple of women and a man ran towards the group and made their way through the crowd of villagers that wanted to assist the scene. The woman that was dressed like an orphanage caretaker was the one to speak, deep worry in her words « Please accept our apologies, but two of our village's kids are missing, we have been looking for them anywhere but they can't be found! »

« Oh my, is that so? »

« Yes, » the man paced forward « one of them is my son, I believe they went into the woods and we are afraid they got lost, or worse ... » he refrained from ending his own sentence, the worst case scenario he didn't want to cross his mind.

They were about to ask for help when the king stared into the distance and pointed right behind the people in front of him « Could they be your children? »

Sighs of relief set onto everyone as the three villagers smiled, but soon after a look of horror painted their faces as the appearance of the two ashamed kids came into view: they saw the dirt, the spots, the rips, and the blood.

At the same time, one boy's mother yelled "Goodness gracious, Virgil!" while one of the orphans cried out "big brother!" as a couple of adults and Virgil's parents ran towards them.

The mother hugged his son fiercely, not caring about smearing her clothes with blood and the dirt on her child's clothes, while his father helped him to walk over to the sovereigns, Raegan on the other hand, looking better than his friend, received multiple scolds by the caretakers for being too careless.

After they had reached the crowd, Virgil and Raegan personally approached the royalty and bowed down to them in an apologetic manner, at which the two monarchs softened up enough for them to get closer and kneel down in front of them.

« Straighten up kids, you don't need to feel sorry, I would've probably done the same if I had been you. » the king snickered and did a quick wink at them.

The queen ruffled their hair with a sweet smile, she appeared so tender it didn't even feel real, all the social class boundaries were broken as her motherly instincts acted up.

Then she turned to Logan « Can you perchance heal these bad-looking wounds? »

The mage slightly bowed at them and walked up to the kids with a smug look on his face « I can do even better, madame. »

So the two Arcadian rulers stepped away and gave the boy his own space to practice the spell: Patton could see it was completely different from the curse he had placed on him.

This time the lights around him were light blue, almost white, he drew a sinuous symbol with no sharp edges, not like the one he had seen. Logan didn't have to pronounce any formula, instead, he duplicated the symbol and commanded it to fly up above the two boys; and just like that, the symbols started to lightly crumble in little particles that looked like stardust on them. Once it was finished they looked perfectly refreshed, fine clothes and clean faces, they looked like they didn't enter the forest at all.

Raegan and Virgil both stared at their hands, then at each other with astonished expressions and faint smiles.

But there was something else, the familiar sensation had strengthened upon seeing the two boys more clearly, upon having them so close in front of him ... could it be? He locked eyes first with the orphan, then with the other child, he examined their facial features so long silence fell into the place: the kids started feeling uncomfortable, did the spell do something weird to them? Were they going to turn into trolls? Still, Logan's apathetic gaze fixed on them didn't help them ease up.

The seer turned to the royalty after a careful study of the two « Patton, could you assist me for a moment? »

Something hit hard Virgil's heart. Wait, what? They were actually getting checked up? Or was this only protocol? Had they already gone through the other children? It couldn't possibly be one of them, Virgil was sure about who his parents were, and he was certain that Raegan ... well, he was his best friend, it's not like he'd turn out to be a prince and out of nowhere get ripped away from him. They were just village kids. He tried to repeat this sentence into his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself as panic rose back into him.

Patton had come closer with a warming smile that almost calmed Virgil completely down; he held out his drawing in front of him as he compared the picture first with Virgil, then with Raegan.

When his eyes widened. Logan understood immediately what was off about that place by the behavior of the prince of Tinfea.

Patton locked eyes in awe with Raegan, who somehow felt the need to straighten his posture, he felt like he was being judged by everyone. With the corner of his eyes, he could see his best friend's almost pained look.

He couldn't breathe when Patton turned his back to him to face the sovereigns.

Patton couldn't contain his smile. « Your majesty, » his solemn tone was the only thing filling the village's air, everybody was holding their breath. Raegan's heart skipped a beat.

« We found him. »

Next chapter

70 notes · View notes

dndeviants · 5 years

Text

The one who wrote the book

Linda followed the blond vampire in silence, thinking about the talk she had just had with Strahd. She couldn’t help but feel bad for all of his suffering...

But there was still all the accounts of the wrongs he had done, his evils...

Why? What is the truth? Those questions consumed her.

“Here we are,“ Escher opened the door of the tower room, and allowed Linda to browse freely.

It was large, but comfortable, with tall paneled windows that showed the whole western portion of Barovia...

Glorious mountain ranges capped with snow, glistening rivers in the moonlight, the silhouettes of small villages dotted the landscape... She saw the walls of Vallaki, and even the walls of Krezk, and the faint image of the Abbey looming over the settlement.

She stared out the window... The land was as beautiful as the castle she stood in-

At least the parts Strahd sees fit to care for, she reminded herself.

She returned her attention to the room. The guest quarter itself had two couches sitting opposed on the northern and southern sides, bookcases filled with various literature pressed against the eastern wall.

Books had always been a weakness of hers. She browsed the collection: political treatises, biographies of ancient peoples, exotic recipes, folklore, mythology, epic poetry...

This could keep me busy for a while, she thought.

She turned to the consort, “So Escher, how did you come to live here?”

Linda moved to the northern couch and sat down. Escher joined her.

He leaned back, musing, "Well, I already told you that I was hired by lord Strahd. One thing led to another, and now I am here. His eternal companion and servant."

"You were hired..." She raised a brow, "To be a personal historian, right?"

He simply nodded.

"You wrote the propaganda piece,” she continued, “And earlier, I had asked you if you knew what in it was real."

"Indeed. We were interrupted by Lord Strahd's arrival..." Escher folded his hands in his lap.

She nodded and looked to him, "Care to tell me now?"

"Where do I start? Let's see..." He rose from the couch and walked over to the bookshelves, extracting his copy of Barovia and its Histories, along with notes he had made decades ago.

He turned to her, "The beginning is often the simplest, correct?"

"Of course," she replied.

Escher sat down, and flipped open the book, "I took propaganda that survived from Strahd's homelands in regard to his conquest of Barovia. King Barov... chose Strahd to be a general. But had everyone around him think that Strahd was upholding his responsibility as the eldest son.”

He pointed a line to her, “'He was already highly decorated general...' This... is a half truth. Yes, he led his side of the civil war to victory, and he did develop the strategy that quieted rival households at age seventeen..”

He took out an ancient letter, and examined it:

“...but at the time, King Barov took credit for Strahd, and berated him for his 'failure to swiftly put an end to the war' and 'allowing him to be captured by enemies of state'... when he was rescued by Vistani."

Linda blinked in shock, "So that is why he said he lost his youth..." her brow furrowed, and her lips tightened, "His father doesn't sound too pleasant. Berating him for not winning fast enough and having to be rescued..."

"What do you expect from a child?" Escher turned back to his notes.

Seventeen... Timothy’s age. Linda shook her head as she thought, Gods... I can’t imagine anyone that age being expected to fight, much less win a war... what was wrong with Barov? Shouldn’t he have been thankful that the Vistani rescued his son? Why did he send Strahd to war...?

An evil thought crossed her mind: He didn’t want Strahd to return... But why? It doesn’t make sense-

Escher’s voice snapped her back to the present.

"That is true... true, true, true... ah, the impalement...” Escher looked to her and shrugged, “Desertion was becoming a problem due to lack of resources given from the homelands to maintain a war... He thought that only a horrible punishment would deter further insolence. And it did... all of the rest is true for his origins listed here- save for one little thing..."

Escher tapped his finger on the page, "’Strahd vowed not to leave Barovia until the war had been won.’ That was a fabrication for political ends in Strahd's own homeland, but in letters I found... Barov would not tolerate Strahd in the homelands until the war had been won."

"What?" Linda’s eyes widened in shock, "He wasn't allowed to leave?!"

This is unheard of...

Escher waved a letter in front of his face to read aloud, "The 'acting general does not take leave for himself' is what the letter said. It was some kind of dishonor, or some rubbish like that. However, his lieutenants were allowed to take leave, and sire families and continue their households. Interesting little fact."

She sighed and voiced her thoughts, "That's horrible and unheard of."

Escher was quiet, but continued reading, before pausing and turning to Linda, "You already know of the wedding massacre correct? I'm...not supposed to speak on the subject. But you carry his journal with you..."

Ah, so all the vampires can sense it... she nodded, "Yeah I read about what happened."

Escher smirked and continued, "Of course, Strahd's death is completely fabricated, so we can ignore those.... marriage, birth, deaths... although, he did put on grand shows to continue the masquerade of humanity. "

She leaned back, "I knew all of those were made up."

Escher paused, "Ah, Jander Sunstar... that is a sore subject..."

Linda raised a brow, "Why?"

Escher shrugged, "I think because it was one of the first people that Strahd considered a friend since turning... and one of the first to personally betray him."

Linda’s curiosity grew, "What happened?"

“Jander was a foreigner, like you...” Escher looked to his notes, “He called himself a Sun Elf... and was from a group of adventurers from a place he called Waterdeep. He was the only survivor of his party and was turned vampire... before coming here.”

“Strahd invited him into his care and swore to help him figure out the origins of a girl that he was trying to avenge... a girl named Ana. In return, Jander would teach Strahd what he knew... because there was a lot more Jander knew of vampirism than Strahd was able to know... Strahd is the First Vampire, but Jander was older, and wiser than he."

Linda folded her arms, "I still think time moves differently here..."

"I think so too. It seems slower here... but maybe its because I am bored..." the vampire chuckled.

He resumed the lesson, "Well, Jander grew suspicious of Strahd and abhorred his method of ruling, and Strahd's own ignorance of his power, and 'arrogance' turned Jander against him, and he plotted with a priest named Sasha Petrovich, in secret to try to destroy Strahd... especially after discovering that his 'Ana' was Tatayana... one who had been reborn outside the Mists. He held Strahd responsible for her broken state... even though it was the elf himself that killed her."

Linda blinked, "Petrovich, like Lucien and Lydia in Vallaki?"

Escher tilted his head in acknowledgement, "Descendants. Strahd showed mercy to the priest after Jander died, and after Strahd recovered from the battle. They had used the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind against him... and the priest took it. They made an arrangement. The priest would not return the symbol to Strahd, but keep it hidden for eternity, and take the secret to his grave... so long as Strahd swore not to harm him of his descendants."

She blinked at the revelation, "Oh, I see. Well, we found it."

"And it is in Ruki's care, I know.... " Escher returned to reading, musing, "He does favor impalement as a message, doesn't he? True... another birth, death, marriage.... Ah, Azalin. Another tough one..."

Linda folded her arms, "A lich, right?"

He nodded in affirmation, "Strahd's mentor, and partner when trying to find ways to escape. They may have done it too, but it isn't certain.”

Escher lazily raised a hand, “Rahadin thinks they succeeded briefly, as they both were missing from Barovia for a while, but neither of them could remember the experience. It was all for naught anyway. As soon as Azalin got his own realm... he turned on Strahd and sent this country down the warpath. Ultimately, Strahd won, but he lost a friend in Aldrick Wachter along the way."

Linda nodded, and thought aloud, "I wonder how they did it, if they did escape..."

Escher shrugged, "Who knows for certain? Ah... this is when Strahd's psyche began to slip... the despotic, tyrant mage..."

Escher held up a hand, "He theorizes that when he sacrificed himself to sever Barovia from other realms, he also sacrificed some of his mental stability and well being. He became a monster, truly. Rahadin had taken over for him, but Strahd was fixed on seeking vengeance... on what, he cannot remember, and I do not know.

Linda blinked. It wasn’t uncommon for vampires to lose their sanity over time, but Strahd now seemed to be stable. This was perplexing.

"How odd... what else is there?" she asked.

"Well... Lord Strahd came to his senses only after being killed again. By foreign adventurers... and then things went back to normal... for a time. There was the whole Lord Soth thing, that was more an inconvenience for everyone involved."

"He was a death knight?" recalled Linda.

"From another world,” Escher replied, “The Mists tested Strahd's patience with him. But he managed to redirect the death knight's wrath until he could get him to flee into the mists... and another dread realm formed."

Escher turned to the last section of the book, pity in his voice, "Ah, poor Volenta... And dare I say poor Strahd. His diplomacy was doing well- until Metus tried to assassinate him, and had poor Volenta killed as well."

Linda blinked, "So, that is the same Volenta?"

The Volenta killed in the book is one of the other consorts?

Escher nodded, "She was not created in the usual manner, if I recall. She died tainted by Lord Strahd's blood, when Malik speared them both through..."

Escher sighed, "Strahd became even more paranoid of traitors and assassins and his secret coming out at this time.... Anyone who conspired with Metus was killed. Anyone he thought a traitor was killed...”

“Some beheaded... particularly bad ones impaled. It's eased in recent times..." Escher looked to Linda, trying to gauge her reaction.

She rubbed her temples and sighed, folding her hands in front of her. He had done truly terrible things. She didn’t doubt that. But he had terrible things happen to him... and it didn’t excuse him, but...

I understand why now.

"It seems, I didn't know half of what has happened to Strahd. I see why he is like he is even more, now."

Escher tilted his head and closed the book, "But it doesn't make for good propaganda."

She chuckled, softly, "I would assume not..."

Linda raised a brow and looked over the dandy, blond consort. This slender, pretty man seemed to know how to speak to Strahd and persuade him to tone down his anger at the very least...

It would be useful to know that.

She coyly looked to the man, "So how did you woo Strahd?"

Escher laughed at her, "It's not that hard when you know what to say, and more importantly, how to say it. You just have to know him well enough."

She tilted her head, "And what does that mean? How do you say things?"

Escher stood and made a flamboyant gesture, "I say things the way they need to be said to get the results I want. "

She pursed her lips, "And how did this woo Strahd? I don't think you did it."

Escher gasped, offended, "Lady Linda, I am far more charming than you give me credit! Far more charming than yourself, even..."

He put a hand over his chest, emphasizing, "I radiate charisma."

Linda toyed with him, speaking bluntly, "I don't see it."

The man pouted, "I would say more, but I am not permitted to harm the guests."

He huffed and crossed his arms, "Fine. You want to know how I did it? Even when my life on the line?"

"I do."

Escher raised a hand, flippantly, "I didn't try to pretend to be invulnerable for one. I told him that I knew that he had every right to murder me for betraying him, and going where I was not permitted to go. And then thanking him for not allowing me to die..."

Escher looked to Linda, "He didn't even seem to realize that he was the one who rescued me from being devoured by Mila, Ana, and Volly. And that was the thing... I appealed to the goodness in him."

Escher made a gesture, "A man like Strahd knows what makes him evil. A man like Strahd will go out of his way to be the cruelest, wickedest man to ever walk the surface, because a man like Strahd doesn't believe that there is goodness in him. But... as soon as you point out those small flaws in his evil overlord persona..."

Escher raised his hands, gesticulating, "Would an evil overlord go out of his way to save a man who had just betrayed him? Offer shelter to a woman that he unknowingly brought into his dark world? Rescue children from hags and were-creatures? Perhaps he would... it doesn't make him any less evil..."

Escher looked to Linda, weaving his poetic words, "But, it may- for a moment- remind him that his heart isn't truly black. And that he is capable of much goodness and love..."

Escher shrugged, "It was enough to woo him in the moment. He hungers for goodness to be shown him, but is not in the habit of showing it to others first. No, that would make him weak."

Escher folded his hands behind his back, "Point out the goodness genuinely. Don't try to make the lion a lamb. And keep it honest and gentle. Those are my rules when speaking with Strahd. And... if you desire his... favor... "

Escher winked at the woman, rakishly, "... you will do the same."

Linda smirked to hide her blush, "So how else do I become as charismatic as you?"

"Well, join a guild or practice. I do recommend studying the classic poets. But that is a personal preference..." Escher looked to the door.

Volenta entered the room with a tired looking Aric and Jeeves. They chatted briefly before retiring to the room beyond. Volenta folded her hands over her skirt and walked over to Linda and Escher.

She spoke lightly, "How are we tonight?"

“Just splendid,“ Escher replied.

"Doing well, just speaking with Escher about Strahd..." Linda looked up to the masked woman...

She was murdered... and Strahd’s blood turned her... and now she is here. She seems happy enough...

Volenta shrugged, "Lot's of people talk about him. You should hear what they say in the towns...” She looked to Escher, “But Mila wanted me to tell you that dawn approaches..."

Escher nodded and put the book back on the shelf, "I will be down soon. No worries."

"It's that time already...?” Linda was shocked, “Sorry if I am keeping you. I should probably get some rest too."

Escher looked to Linda, "Do not worry, Lady. You aren't keeping me from anything. But I will tell you..."

Escher inspected her, "You may want to take down your hair and brush it... use some water to wash, make yourself a little more presentable... it will help your natural charm greatly.... and if you need help on your charisma..."

He turned back to the bookshelf, and pulled out a tome, "Here... The Diplomat. This book is probably best for learning what you want to learn."

Escher presented the book to her. Linda took the book and showed her gratitude.

“Thanks...“ she set the book beside her, took off her hat, and let her hair down. She turned to the vampire, “Better?“

Escher tilted his head, "Getting there. A wash is what it needs. You got black stuff in it."

Linda sighed, "Probably gun powder.... I'll wash up. Is there a place for that in here?"

Escher pointed to a table, "You will have to use one of the basins on the table...” He looked at the copy of The Diplomat, “...But I think you will be able to grasp the book easily."

Escher bowed to her, "I shall have to take my leave. Thank you for pleasant conversation."

Linda tilted her head, "Thank you for your insight. I hope you both rest well."

As Escher and Volenta retreated from the room, she rose and pulled out her mirror. She grimaced... I looked like this? In front of Strahd-

She hurried over to the basin and washed her face and hair in the cold water- the temperature waking her up a bit...

The water was murky gray with the powder residue. She sighed and took out her mirror again...

Much better... clean... I look like a proper lady now- It was odd for her that she even cared about such things...

She pat herself dry and walked over to the couch, using her newfound energy to read.

#story update #curse of strahd #linda tacklemeyer #writing #dnd

5 notes · View notes

fromthelibrary · 5 years

Quote

In that vanishing point, neither of us speaks. Language is crushed. We are anyway too busily engaged building structures within ourselves that might house our spirits, for the pressure here is immense, a weight of rock and time, bearing down upon us from every direction with an intensity I have never experienced before, turning us fast to stone. It is a fascinating and terrible place, and not one that can be borne for long.

Robert Macfarlane, Underland

I have read non-fiction which fascinated me, and non-fiction that transported me, allowed me to see through the eyes of another, but I cannot remember a time when I was so thoroughly enchanted by a work of non-fiction as I was by Robert Macfarlane’s Underland. It reads like a strange blend of science, travel memoir, poetry and fairy tale. The term “Underland” used as the basis of this work refers to all the world below the earth’s surface, both natural and man-made. I feel like I’m still struggling with the concept of “deep time,” but it seems to be referring to time scales so large that they dwarf all of human history, such as the formation of glaciers and the hazard of nuclear waste. This book covers a huge breadth of times, places and subjects, including:

Burials, both ancient and modern

Caving

Mining

Physics research which can only be carried out deep underground in a chamber made of salt

Neolithic cave art

Use of underground passageways, trenches, sinkholes and cave systems by the military, revolutionaries, and refugees

Storage of nuclear waste and the daunting task of communicating its hazards not only to future humans but to the possibility of a post-human future world

The secret cities which lie underneath European cities such as Paris and Odessa in the form of catacombs and abandoned quarries.

Fossilisation of human remains and material culture

Oil drilling and the ocean floor

The innumerable layers of history trapped within sea ice and glaciers

One thing I loved deeply about this book is the approach to science which is very accessible for Arts and Humanities type people like myself, who are curious about science but woefully under-educated in these fields. He explains dark matter and neutrinos, fungal networks and the ecology of the forest, marine biology and geology, glaciology and other scientific concepts and research fields with ease and elegance. He blends these subjects into a narrative of his journeys through the underland which is deeply emotional, almost spiritual. I feel like this mix of science and spirituality should be uncomfortable, but for this subject matter it feels intensely appropriate. After a long and dangerous journey to a remote, isolated part of Norway’s coastline in winter, days alone among the rocks and snow and ruins of an abandoned village, I feel like I too would sit down and actually cry upon encountering paintings left on the wall of a cave by people who lived so long ago I can scarcely imagine, but who feel close and alive still in the darkness and otherworldly time within the cave. To me, this is a rational response to such an experience, but in his approach to this journey and his retrospective writing about it, the archaeological, anthropological, geological and even historical and literary contexts of the paintings, the cave that houses them, the landscape in which they are situated and the journey to reach them are all considered and explored. Many parts of this book read like poetry, or like a dream sequence, some passages are also very reminiscent of the parts of folk tales where the hero is told how to reach Fairyland and what the crucial rules are to ensure he makes it back out alive. For me, the entire work came across as a love song.

I think part of what pulled me into this book was not just a preexisting interest in this subject matter or the enjoyable writing style, but the places to which Macfarlane journeys. I have read books in the past which irritated me because the subject matter was obscured under the author’s personal anecdotes and attempts at travel writing. Macfarlane writes so much life into his landscapes and describes his underland guides, companions and interview subjects in a style which makes them appear almost like characters from a story. His descriptions of his journeys often draw on imagery of darkness and light to evoke the feeling of passing between one world and another: “I feel the snap of the black stone’s jaws at the empty air below my toes, and then I am out of the swallet and into the hollow, and warm air is rolling around me, and my bones grow again in the storm of light and ferns furl their green over and into me and moss thrives on my skin and leaves teem in my eyes, and Sean and I sit laughing, knowing for those few moments that to understand light you need first to have been buried in the deep-down dark.” Colour is also frequently invoked to bring the concept of deep time to life, such as the red ochre paste on the wall of the cave. The passage about the memory of ice encapsulated within the blue of time is particularly memorable and it would have been worth reading this book just for those few pages alone. In researching and writing this book, Macfarlane traveled far off the beaten path, occasionally alone, and often at great risk of injury or death. These are the parts of the narrative which grabbed my imagination and really ran with it. Much like Caroline Van Hemert’s book, which I read a few weeks ago, the retelling of these journeys, and particularly his adventures on the ice struck some chord in me that I don’t really know how to interpret. As I read I began to think that maybe stories about travel into the Arctic, the deep wilderness, caves and abandoned underground cities, affect me this way because of subconscious knowledge that unlike Middle Earth or Roshar, these are places which exist in the world I inhabit, that I could conceivably make a series of choices that would lead me to these places. I believe that the idea of these places captivate me in this way because they are seen so infrequently and through such great peril to the viewer, but are so wild and so alive. I have come to think of them as places of probable death but certain wonder.

I cannot urge you enough to give this book a shot. There were so many beautiful passages in it that I eventually gave up on copying them into my notes and had difficulty choosing one to include in this review. If you have any interest in adventure, the environment, natural sciences, or just want to experience things few humans will ever see through the pages of a book, read this one. Normally, if I am going to recommend a book, I like to think not only about who the book is for, but also for which readers the book might miss the mark. The only thing I can think of here is that the dreamlike prose combined with the breadth of subject matter (and being made to think about deep time, which hurts my brain), can be a lot to chew on and made me feel a bit disoriented within the world. It took me nearly three weeks to read it in its entirety. Not because the language or subject matter was difficult but because I felt the need to occasionally put the book down and turn everything over in my mind for a bit. That said, I would urge anyone with an interest or curiousity in any of the topics covered here to pick it up. Macfarlane wrote, “Occasionally - once or twice in a lifetime if you are lucky - you encounter an idea so powerful in its implications that it unsettles the ground you walk on.” Perhaps some of those are waiting here for you.

#books #book review #books i read in 2019 #non-fiction #science #glaciology #mycology #physics #ecology #spelology #archaeology #really just lots of -ologies #caving #travel memoir #adventure #catacombs #underland #deep time #robert macfarlane

2 notes · View notes

roamingholiday · 7 years

Text

Friday, September 29th 2017

POMPEII, AND THE BAY OF NAPLES, IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE.

Before I go into more detail, I just wanted to mention something. For most students at Temple Rome, they have chosen to study abroad here rather than elsewhere simply because our school has a campus here. It’s a study abroad opportunity, true, and they enjoy living here because it’s different from the United States, because they get to experience a new culture, learn a new language, and it’s in Europe, which means quick and cheap flights to anywhere within the EU. I don’t disagree with any of that, and I think they’re all perfectly, excellently valid reasons for choosing to stay here for a semester or a year.

That’s not why I’m here, though. I’m in Rome because it’s Rome. I’m not jetting off to Munich or Paris every other weekend because this isn’t just an easy access point for me. I’ve been studying Latin for six years now. I’m getting a degree in Classics. I never grew out of my little kid obsession with Greek and Roman mythology, and now I’m majoring in it. I was seven when I first picked up a book on mythology and I haven’t really put it down since. I’m in Rome. I get to walk along the Tiber each morning and see the Colosseum in the distance and that is ridiculous to me, even now, after almost two months. I’ve read letters and poems and speeches about the streets that I’m walking down to get to school every day and that’s insane.

Rome is a modern city, though, and it’s impossible to forget it, even with my imagination. So you can imagine how I felt wandering through the ruins of Pompeii.

I’ve been to Pompeii once before, on a day trip for one of my roommate’s birthdays, and we did a rather stumbling self-guided tour which, while very fun, was hardly informative. This particular trip, however, was an excursion associated with my Roman History course, lead by a professor who lives and breathes classical history, and who promised us before we left that it would be a death march through the ruins and we would get more information than we knew what to do with over the next three days. I was, as you might expect, very excited.

We took a big coach bus down on Friday, boarding at 7 in the morning exactly (I am not afraid to leave late students behind!! -Professor, on three different occasions when reminding us that when he says we leave at 7 he means we leave at 7). We were immediately given a forty some page packet of maps, floor plans, and letters of Pliny, and then left to fall, one and all, to sleep during the first couple hour leg of the journey.

We did not end up in Pompeii during the first day. Instead, we went to a beautiful little town called Terracina, in the bay of Naples, to visit the temple complex of Iuppiter Anxur, a gorgeous building that overlooks Terracina and the bay from a cliff, with foundations dating back to long before the Romans were out conquering the whole of Southern Italy (the Roman colony of Terracina, if you were curious, was founded in 329 BCE), though the current iteration was built primarily in the first century BCE, at the time of the second triumvirate, as part of a veteran colony. The temple was probably dedicated to Jupiter (hence the name), though there are theories about it really being a Venus territory.

At the base of the cliff on which the temple sits, notable because it’s not actually a natural cliff. About two thousand years ago, give or take a century or two, the Romans decided that going around the mountain took too long, so they just…. moved the mountain. Carved it flat and made a passageway. If you look closely at the cliff you can actually see Roman numerals that were carved into the rock to indicate how much was cut away at that point. At the highest point, 120 ft of stone was removed.

Terracina and the bay of Naples from the temple, because it was stunningly beautiful.

There is no photograph of the actual temple, I’m afraid, because there was no way to get a good picture from the base of the cliff, and no way to capture everything when we were wandering around inside. Google Terracina Iuppiter Anxur if you’re curious.

Following Terracina, we headed off to the Villa of Tiberius.

CRASH COURSE IN VILLAS: There are two kinds of villas. You might think that there are three kinds of villas. You would be wrong. The two kinds of villas are called villa urbana and villa rustica. Neither of them exist within the boundaries of any ancient city, because villas are, by definition, country estates. If it’s a house in the country, it’s a villa. If it’s a house in the city, it’s a domus at best. The villa rustica is essentially a farmhouse. Rustic, you might say. Like something one might expect to exist in the countryside. The villa urbana is like if you were a very rich person and could pack up everything that you liked about being in a booming metropolis of a city like Rome, and then stuck it in a house in the countryside so that you could feel free from city woes. There is an absolutely hysterical genre of poetry written by Roman poets who think that they should be able to tell you how to live in the countryside and ‘rough it’ because they happen to have access to a house that is, in the most basic sense, in the country. Lots of stuff about how to farm written by dudes who have, once, glanced out of their gilded window frames to observe a slave in the field across the way. Go read the Georgics (Virgil, pre-Aeneid. Don’t get me wrong, fantastic political commentary in that poem, but in no way is it actually about “agricultural things,” even if that is the Greek translation of the word georgic.

Villa culture was, essentially, about flaunting wealth, and reveling in your own status as a highly educated member of the elite. You built the houses to have massive libraries and statuary and a view of the ocean, so that you could roll around in your own cultural and intellectual heritage in front of the fishes, and generally prove that you were better than everyone else.

Anyway, the Villa of Tiberius. Tiberius was emperor after Augustus, and got the entirely unenviable task of trying to convince everybody that emperors were a good idea (Augustus never technically declared himself emperor, you know?) and also trying to sort out the mess that happens when there are no rules because one single genius invented the entire government structure and ran it by himself for forty five years and then died without telling anyone how he did it all. I do not begrudge him his gorgeous villa, if only because he deserved a place to get some R&R after years spent trying to drag a reinvented governmental system from the hands of a dead man.

The coolest part of the villa (both figuratively and literally, actually) was the natural cave in the cliff wall that the villa was built next to. The base of the villa opened onto the ocean (you can not buy beach front property this good today, my friend), but the entire left side extended into the cave, and incorporated a gorgeous series of tide pools, both natural and manmade. This cave was the crowning jewel of Tiberius’s villa, and included several incredible sculptures that now live in the museum next to the villa’s ruins.

Statue of Ganymede, above the cave’s entrance. Looks like he’s got wings, but he doesn’t, actually, this is a statue that depicts the precise moment that Zeus, having looked down across the mortal world and seen Ganymede and thought Wow Pretty, sent an eagle to abduct him. For those of you who don’t know the myth, Ganymede is literally so attractive that Zeus makes him a god on Olympus. Just for being pretty. He’s Zeus’s cupbearer. If you thought people were joking about how very startlingly gay Ancient Greece was, you would be very wrong.

To be clear, there is nothing heterosexual about this story. At all. Zeus did not make Ganymede a god because he was lonely and wanted a good buddy to josh around with. Just. To be abundantly clear. Very very homosexual feelings all around, here. I say this because I once had someone tell me, to my face, that there was no way ancient Greek gods were actually gay. My dude, you have no idea.

(I mean, more accurately speaking Zeus is just very, very pansexual (or bisexual, depending on your preference), but this particular story is just super gay.)

Also, for those of you clever cookies who noticed that I’m not using the Roman name, good for you. The Ganymede myth does exist in Rome, he’s called Catamitus and was abducted by Jupiter, but this sculpture is pretty definitely Ganymede, because the theme for all of the sculptures in the cave was hellenism (or How Greek Can You Be: Roman Edition), but I’ll get to that later.

More cave! You can see the Ganymede sculpture all the way up at the tippy top. It’s a recreation, also, the sculpture is, the original is in the museum to preserve it. Most of the floor of the cave is taken up by a tidal pool, too, and you can see all the way in the back a carved out portion, and what looks like a door, and a glowing white square next to the door. For size reference of just how large (I hesitate to call it gigantic, only because I know there are caves that are much, much larger, but it was big to me, okay?) the cave is, I am about as tall as that glowing white square thing in that cut out room. Yes, I’m bitter about that. Moving on.

Another angle of that same cut out room, now inside the cave. You see what I mean about the floor, yeah?

From the back of the cave. There was a large space behind me, of course, and there were those cut out rooms, but most of the cave was taken up by the pool. The theory is that there would have been a bedchamber area and a dining area in these cut out spaces, so that when the weather was too warm Tiberius could retreat to his cave house and live comfortably.

As you can see in the background, that whole area on the left where there doesn’t appear to be any sign of human habitation is the ocean. Honestly, if this were my villa, I would probably never leave. Screw running Rome, I want to sit in my cave beach house and read from my enormous library and have my servants bring me whatever I want. Sounds like a good life.

Now we get to the museum, and an artistic rendering of the cave statuary as it probably stood. That beautiful still glassy pool wouldn’t have been empty, not in an emperor’s house.

You’ve already gotten the spiel about letter E, Ganymede, so let’s move on to C, all the way in the back there (where I was standing to take that cave mouth photograph, actually, though that means almost nothing to you).

A recreation, of course, we don’t have this entire thing, but we have enough fragments and enough literary sources describing it to thing that this is pretty close to the original. This is, in all his alcoholic glory, Polyphemus, the cyclops from the Odyssey, who captured Odysseus and his men in his cave to eat them. Odysseus disagreed with that plan of action, for fairly obvious reasons, and thus got Polyphemus drunk, stabbed out his only eye with a burning stake, and then hitched a ride on the undersides of Polyphemus’s sheep (poor guy was a shepherd) in order to get out of the cave without being noticed (Polyphemus was blind, see, not dumb, so he felt the backs of his sheep to make sure that none of his captives rode out on them. He didn’t think to check the underbelly of the sheep because who rides on an underbelly? Nobody, that’s who). As one does. He also told Polyphemus, as he left, that his name was Nobody, which is why none of the other cyclops came to the rescue when Polyphemus shouted for help, because Nobody was attacking him.

This is B, from that little drawing up there, though it doesn’t really look like all that much. It’s made from the fragments that we have, rather than being a reconstruction, like the Polyphemus scene. It’s from the Odyssey as well, later on in the story, when Odysseus’s ship must pass by the cave of the monster Scylla. Scylla is a sea monster, who has dog heads instead of legs. Yeah. Not dog /legs/ instead of legs, or a dog head instead of a head, but dog heads, multiple, for legs. I’ll let you figure the logistics of that one out, because honestly I have sat through an entire class where twenty classics students, plus our classics PhD professor, tried and failed to understand how exactly that might work. Horrifying? Yes. Very confusing? Also yes. Something that it is very difficult to make a statue of? Also also yes.

This particular scene is of Scylla taking men directly from Odysseus’s ship to eat them. With her human head? With her dog heads? Who knows! Not us! We don’t want to!

We’re missing most of the figure of Scylla, so you’re just going to have to imagine a beautiful woman somewhere in the center of the piece, somehow emerging out of all of those dogs. Also, that hand in the front there is supposed to go on the prow of the ship, we think, but that doesn’t fit the reconstructed image at all unless the artist just threw all of anatomy out of the window when he made the piece, which is not a thing to rule out.

Interestingly, the sculpture is, apparently, made by the same workshop in Rome that crafted the fairly famous sculpture of Laocoon and his sons being eaten by two giant sea snakes. There is a theme in this workshop’s work, can you tell?

Neither of the other two statues were intact enough to take photographs of, just a fragment here and there. However, we know that D, from the drawing, is Odysseus and his bro Diomedes stealing the Palladium of Troy, which was a little statue of Pallas that represented the safety of Troy.

Interesting story about Pallas time! So, while most people associate the name Pallas with an identity of Athena, as in Pallas Athena, that wasn’t the original Pallas. She was a nymph, a friend of Athena’s who trained with her when they were both young (relatively speaking, seeing as Athena was never technically young, she ‘sprung from Zeus’s head fully formed’ which is also a mental image that you really don’t want to think too hard about), until one day Zeus looked down, thought the two of them were fighting instead of training, and distracted Pallas with his shield in the clouds long enough for her to pause, and for Athena to accidentally put a spear through her heart. Athena was devastated, created a likeness of her friend and placed it in Troy so she would not be forgotten, took on the name Pallas Athena, and also declared herself an eternal virgin, by the way, because that is a totally rational reaction to the death of someone who is definitely just a friend. Ehem. Anyway. That statue was stolen by Odysseus because he has no sense of the sacred, so that the Greeks could defeat Troy without their guardian spirit. The Palladium was then moved, some say, to Rome, and placed in the Temple of Vesta in the Roman Forum, to keep Rome safe.

The final statue, A, on the left of the diagram, is a bit of a mystery. It’s two figures, one of whom is dressed in greek armor circa the Trojan War, we know that. The current theories are either that that is Menelaus holding the body of Achilles, or Achilles holding the body of Patroclus. I prefer the second interpretation, honestly, both because I like that story better, but also because according to the Iliad Menelaus didn’t even like Achilles, and I’m pretty sure the myth has Ajax getting all weepy over his body, not Menelaus. I don’t even know where we got the idea of Menelaus from, honestly, because it doesn’t make sense narratively. Also, there are so many statues of Achilles dramatically holding up Patroclus’s body and looking like his world is ending (which it is) that it just seems more plausible that it’s them.

All of these scenes from the Odyssey and the Iliad do actually have a purpose being in the villa of a Roman emperor, by the way, for all that they absolutely also represent the best of Greek legendary history. The villa is built next to the mountain Circeo, which is supposedly the mountain where the sorceress Circe lives, whom Odysseus visits and is enamored by for a full year (anyone who wants you to feel sorry for Odysseus taking ten years to get home clearly has no idea what he was doing in those ten years, honestly), connecting this place in historical memory to the idea of Greek travel and Mediterranean exploration, a thousand years before Rome became a superpower. The statuary is both Tiberius’s way of proving that he is very educated, because to be educated was to be familiar with Greek works, in that time, but also paying homage to local traditions, and retaining the Greek background that all of Rome is simultaneously enormously proud and very ashamed of. The relationship between Greece and Rome is very big sibling/little sibling, where the little sibling becomes enormously successful in life and the older sibling’s accomplishments, impressive though they might be ordinarily, fade to the background in the world’s eyes, but in the eyes of the little sibling they’ll always be. Well. Their older sibling. It’s one part reverence, one part hatred, and a whole lot of uncomfortable familial feelings that few people ever untangle without the help of a very, very good therapist.

After the Villa of Tiberius, we stopped in the unbelievably adorable little town of Sperlonga for lunch. I cannot overemphasize how beautiful this place is. Entirely made of tiny little streets that don’t allow cars? Check. Built of that beautiful white stone that glows in the ever-present sun and makes you feel like you’re wandering through a castle in the sky? Check. Flowers spilling out of every window box, and overhanging trees and vines providing both riotous color amidst the gleaming white buildings and much needed shade? Check. Absolutely breathtaking view of the ocean from the cliffs that it is perched on? Check. 10/10, would go back just to gape at the sheer gorgeousness of the place.

Following lunch, we got back in the bus and drove until we hit Naples, and the Archeological Museum therein.

I typically don’t…. Well, it’s not that I don’t like art museums, I appreciate them in a general sense as cultural conservation, and in certain moods I enjoy walking through them. I just tend to get distracted when looking at something purely visual for too long. It’s why I also do other things while watching TV and movies. So I go through art museums pretty quickly, and as long as I’ve glanced at everything, I feel like I’ve successfully taken everything in. It’s probably why I am the worst person to go to an art museum with, just in general.

(Books, by the way, in no way count as purely visual objects, and I can happily read a book for hours without getting distracted, but that’s reading, not looking.)

However. If there were ever a museum that I could lose a day in, it’s this one.

We covered quite a bit of material, mostly on hyper specific things (-and this is the scrollwork from the top of one of the columns on one of the temples on the Capitoline hill, note the beginnings of Ionian influence in the for the most part standard Doric structure-) that I feel like would not be particularly interesting to you, and in fact are not particularly interesting to me, mostly because that particular lecture tended to be geared towards the art history class, and not my Roman history class, but there were some great pieces of statuary that I want to note.

First, there were the simply exquisite pieces from Rome’s south east bath complex.

This is a multi-figure piece done in a similar style as the Scylla and the Laocoon pieces I’ve mentioned before, depicting the story of Dirce, a woman who insulted another woman named Antiope, who just happened to have two sons Amphion and Zethis, who got upset at the insult and, as you can see, behaved in that totally rational and calm way that all Greeks and Romans are known for, and punished Dirce by tying her to a raging bull in order to be trampled along the streets of Rome. Fun times.

This sculpture would have been featured at one end of the bath complex, and at the other would have stood a statue of Hercules. We saw that statue, significantly larger than lifelike, as well, though I neglected to take a picture of it. The statue is of a single figure this time, and is called Hercules at Rest, because he’s just kinda standing there, leaning on his club. He looks kinda tired. Me too, buddy, me too.

The statue is significant particularly because it represents a shift in focus in the Greek and Roman art world, from Classical to Hellenistic. In classical style, heroes and gods are typically depicted doing heroic things. Hellenism focuses more on the humanity of heroes and gods, and tends to show them doing rather uniquely human things, like leaning on their clubs to catch a break because just because you can carry the world on your back doesn’t mean you should, Hercules.

Another feature of hellenistic design, and one that makes this my favorite era of ancient art, is that the sculptures take great delight in hiding things in their designs, so that one has to observe the entire piece to get a full understanding of the story being told here. In the case of the Hercules statue, my professor instructed us to walk around to the back of the statue to “see what you observe.”

As the statue was both very large and also not wearing pants, we were all…. mildly alarmed at his suggestion, to say the least. However, we are also sheep, so we dutifully trundled around to the back of the statue to look.

Behind his back, Hercules is holding something. Three round somethings that, back when the statue was painted in its full glory, would have been done in gold.

The presence of the three golden apples, hidden so casually in the statue’s slumped over posture, gives this Hercules at Rest a definitive place in the timeline of the myth of Hercules, and also explains the need for the rest in the first place. Hellenism is about humanizing heroes, sure, but they’re still heroes, and the artist knows that. Even heroes get tired, but heroes get tired from doing things like holding the literal weight of the world on their backs and stealing impossible, Trojan-war-starting prizes from dragons in the gardens of goddesses.

In summary, a good statue.

My least favorite statue, by the way, was this one:

I do not like when the statues have eyes. I just don’t. Why would you do that. She’s going to come alive and murder everyone in this museum. You’re going to have that on your conscience, unnamed dude who thought that five of these were good decoration for his entryway.

(Unnamed dude was actually pretty cool, he owned the House of the Papyri, a villa that was discovered and named for the number of papyri preserved in its library. The statue is one of the Danaids, who were fifty daughters of the king of Danaus, who married his daughters all off in one fell swoop to a fellow king named Aegyptus who happened to have fifty sons. Due to unclear circumstances, the fifty daughters all killed their husbands, all on their wedding night. Except for one, who was clearly just a coward or something. Anyway, there were statues of all fifty of the daughters in Augustus’s temple on the Palatine, and this unnamed homeowner decided to copy his emperor’s super creepy taste in artwork. He was actually probably fairly close to Augustus, at least as much as anyone was, because in his library he had a book dedicated by Virgil himself, and everyone knows that Virgil was Augustus’s bestie. As much as anyone was.)

There was more, so much more, in the museum of Naples but frankly this post is already over four thousand words and I am fairly sure that no one cares about my unhealthily strong opinions about the styling of various Roman emperor busts, so I think I’ll take my leave here.

We left Naples and headed to a hotel in Paestum, called Poseidonia, which was very lovely apart from having a super weird bathroom set up. I may have flooded the bathroom. Just a little bit. There’s just no wall? There’s a little square of tile, with a lip, theoretically to prevent the water from going anywhere, but then the shower head points out into open space and all that the lip on the floor does is block whatever water the shower sprays around the bathroom from getting back tot he drain and long story short I flooded the bathroom a little bit.

But then the hotel was thoughtful enough to provide me with a really delicious gluten free dinner and so all is forgiven really.

#travels #rome #museum #I have forgotten what other tags I might need to use here #I suppose I can add them in later #also I was informed that people wanted to read my blog and perhaps even missed reeading it so no one is allowed to complain about the fact #that it's entirely too long and mostly about Roman art that's just how my life goes okay

1 note · View note