#cases that led up to that final court case's decision. like.. what previous court cases' final decision led to this big national case's

[gopalmiglani]

Photographs sourced from Wikipedia. K. Asif and a poster for the Mughal-e-Azam Musical.

Mughal-e-Azam and Shakespeare

This past weekend we saw the musical production “Mughal-e-Azam”. This is a work from our parent’s generation, and I had not paid much attention to it until now. However, at my current age, I saw it in a different light and was deeply moved by it. Given that our daughter has a keen interest in Shakespeare, and we have seen several of the playwright’s works, I was drawn to examine the possible parallels. Asif’s use of a live person instead of a sculpture, not unlike in A Winter’s Tale by Shakespeare was a tip off.

This being 2023, I asked ChatGPT three questions:

What are the parallels between Shakespeare and K. Asif's works?

Which Shakespeare plays drew upon previous monarchs from history?

Are there any parallels between Mughal-e-Azam and the works of William Shakespeare?

To be honest, I asked these questions in reverse order and each answer led me to the next question.

Finally, I asked a fourth question that our daughter suggested – “What was K. Asif's inspiration for Mughal-e-Azam?”. Surprisingly, this last question did not turn up any reference to Shakespeare.

See the verbatim Q&A with ChatGPT below.

What are the parallels between Shakespeare and K. Asif's works?

While William Shakespeare and K. Asif belong to different eras and cultural contexts (Shakespeare being a renowned playwright from Elizabethan England and K. Asif being a celebrated filmmaker from India), there are some thematic and narrative parallels that can be drawn between their works, particularly in the case of K. Asif's magnum opus "Mughal-e-Azam." Here are a few parallels:

Tragic Love Stories: Both Shakespeare and "Mughal-e-Azam" explore themes of love, passion, and tragedy. Many of Shakespeare's plays, such as "Romeo and Juliet" and "Othello," delve into the complexities of love that lead to tragic outcomes. Similarly, "Mughal-e-Azam" presents a poignant tale of forbidden love between Prince Salim and Anarkali, culminating in a tragic ending.

Parental Opposition: In both Shakespeare's plays and "Mughal-e-Azam," parental opposition to romantic relationships is a significant theme. Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" features the feuding families of Montague and Capulet, while in "Mughal-e-Azam," Emperor Akbar opposes the love between Prince Salim and Anarkali due to societal and class differences.

Conflict between Duty and Desire: Both Shakespeare and "Mughal-e-Azam" explore the conflict between personal desires and societal duties. Characters in Shakespeare's plays often grapple with the clash between their passions and the expectations of their roles. Similarly, in "Mughal-e-Azam," Prince Salim faces the dilemma of choosing between his love for Anarkali and his responsibilities as a prince.

Complex Characters: Both Shakespeare and "Mughal-e-Azam" create multidimensional characters with intricate motivations. Shakespeare's characters are known for their psychological depth and internal struggles. Similarly, characters like Prince Salim and Anarkali in "Mughal-e-Azam" are portrayed with emotional complexity and inner turmoil.

Power and Authority: Shakespeare often explored themes of power, ambition, and the consequences of leadership. In "Mughal-e-Azam," the portrayal of Emperor Akbar's rule and his decisions reflects similar themes of power dynamics within a royal court.

Timeless Themes: Both Shakespeare's plays and "Mughal-e-Azam" address universal themes that transcend time and cultural boundaries. Love, jealousy, loyalty, and the human condition are explored in ways that continue to resonate with audiences across different eras and regions.

While the historical and cultural contexts of Shakespeare's works and "Mughal-e-Azam" are distinct, the exploration of human emotions and relationships forms a common thread that allows us to draw parallels between their narratives.

Which Shakespeare plays drew upon previous Monarchs from history?

William Shakespeare drew upon previous monarchs from history for several of his plays. Some of his historical plays are centered around actual historical figures and events, including monarchs and rulers. Here are a few examples:

"Richard II": This play focuses on the reign and downfall of King Richard II of England. The play explores themes of power, legitimacy, and the consequences of weak leadership. Richard II was a historical monarch who ruled from 1377 to 1399.

"Henry IV, Part 1" and "Henry IV, Part 2": These two plays are centered around the reign of King Henry IV of England. They depict the challenges and conflicts faced by Henry IV, including his strained relationship with his son, Prince Hal, who later becomes King Henry V.

"Henry V": This play continues the story of King Henry V, portraying his campaigns in France, including the famous Battle of Agincourt during the Hundred Years' War. It emphasizes leadership, patriotism, and the complexities of ruling.

"Henry VI, Part 1," "Henry VI, Part 2," and "Henry VI, Part 3": These plays are part of the Wars of the Roses historical series and focus on the tumultuous reign of King Henry VI of England. They delve into the Wars of the Roses, a series of conflicts for the English crown between the houses of Lancaster and York.

"Richard III": This play follows the rise and fall of King Richard III of England, a controversial figure known for his role in the Wars of the Roses. It portrays Richard's ruthless pursuit of power and his ultimate downfall.

"Macbeth": While not a historical play in the same vein as the others mentioned, "Macbeth" is loosely based on the historical figure Macbeth, a Scottish king who ruled in the 11th century. Shakespeare adapted this history into a dramatic tragedy, exploring themes of ambition, guilt, and the corrupting influence of power.

These historical plays by Shakespeare often blended historical facts with artistic liberties for dramatic effect. They explore political intrigue, personal motivations, and the complexities of leadership through the lens of historical monarchs and rulers.

Are there any parallels between Mughal-e-Azam and the works of William Shakespeare?

Yes, there are parallels between the Bollywood film "Mughal-e-Azam" and the works of William Shakespeare, particularly his play "Romeo and Juliet." "Mughal-e-Azam," directed by K. Asif and released in 1960, is a classic Indian film that draws inspiration from the tragic love story of "Romeo and Juliet," a play written by William Shakespeare. Here are some of the parallels between the two:

Forbidden Love: Both "Mughal-e-Azam" and "Romeo and Juliet" revolve around the theme of forbidden love. In "Mughal-e-Azam," the central characters, Prince Salim (Jahangir) and Anarkali, fall in love despite societal and familial opposition. Similarly, in "Romeo and Juliet," the titular characters belong to feuding families (the Montagues and Capulets) and their love is forbidden due to this enmity.

Parental Opposition: In both stories, parental opposition plays a significant role in the conflict. In "Mughal-e-Azam," Emperor Akbar opposes the relationship between Prince Salim and Anarkali due to their differing social statuses. In "Romeo and Juliet," the families of Romeo and Juliet vehemently oppose their love because of the ongoing feud.

Tragic Endings: Both narratives end tragically. In "Mughal-e-Azam," Anarkali is sentenced to death by being entombed alive, and Prince Salim is heartbroken. In "Romeo and Juliet," the young lovers, unable to be together due to the circumstances, ultimately choose to die in each other's arms.

Love's Intensity: Both stories emphasize the intensity and purity of the love between the main characters. Their love transcends societal norms, family expectations, and even life itself.

Dramatic Elements: Both "Mughal-e-Azam" and "Romeo and Juliet" contain dramatic elements, including palace intrigues, emotional conflicts, and high-stakes decisions. These elements contribute to the emotional impact of the stories.

Cultural and Contextual Adaptations: "Mughal-e-Azam" adapts the basic love story of "Romeo and Juliet" to an Indian historical and cultural context, incorporating elements of Mughal royalty and courtly life. This adaptation adds a unique flavor while retaining the essence of the original tragic love story.

While "Mughal-e-Azam" draws inspiration from "Romeo and Juliet," it also incorporates its own cultural nuances and artistic expressions. This interplay between Shakespearean themes and Indian storytelling is a testament to the universality of love and tragedy across different cultures and time periods.

What was K. Asif's inspiration for Mughal-e-Azam?

K. Asif's inspiration for the iconic Bollywood film "Mughal-e-Azam" was rooted in his fascination with historical stories, grandeur, and the desire to create a cinematic masterpiece. The film's development took several years, and it was ultimately released in 1960. Asif drew inspiration from historical accounts, legends, and his passion for storytelling. The film's inspiration can be attributed to several factors:

Historical Interest: K. Asif had a deep interest in history and historical narratives. He was intrigued by the rich history of the Mughal era in India, which encompassed royal intrigues, love stories, and grand palaces.

Grandeur and Spectacle: Asif was known for his aspiration to create a grand and opulent film that would captivate audiences with its visual and emotional impact. "Mughal-e-Azam" was a testament to his dedication to creating a cinematic spectacle.

Legendary Romance: The legendary love story of Prince Salim (who later became Emperor Jahangir) and Anarkali was a popular tale in Mughal history and folklore. Asif was drawn to the tragic and forbidden love between a prince and a court dancer.

Historical Research: Asif conducted extensive research into the Mughal period, drawing from historical sources and accounts to craft an authentic backdrop for the film's narrative.

Desire for Excellence: Asif was committed to excellence in filmmaking. He wanted to bring a larger-than-life vision to the screen and showcase the grandeur of the Mughal court.

Artistic Vision: Asif envisioned "Mughal-e-Azam" as an epic that combined historical accuracy with artistic expression. He aimed to create an immersive experience that transported audiences to the Mughal era.

The making of "Mughal-e-Azam" was marked by its challenges and complexities, including the use of technology to create colorized versions of black-and-white footage and the meticulous attention to detail in costumes, sets, and music. The film's enduring legacy lies in its blend of historical drama, romance, and visual spectacle, all of which were deeply rooted in K. Asif's artistic vision and dedication to his craft.

#K Asif #Mughal-e-Azam #shakespeare

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

January 31, 2023

WHO LEAKED THE LEAK — THE SUPREME COURT SNIPE HUNT

A curious odor is coming from the investigation into the mysterious leak of the U. S. Supreme Court decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health that overturned Roe v. Wade. The leak is said to be the biggest breach of integrity in Supreme Court history. But a just-completed probe by the Supreme Court's Marshal (not the U.S. Marshals Service) came up with nothing, nada, zilch. Justice Samuel Alito, who authored the Dobbs decision, said the leak could have led to his assassination. Where's John Grisham when you need him. Fact 1 – The court's marshal is the chief security officer and facilities administrator for the Supreme Court building — not an investigatory body, like the FBI. Fact 2 – The court's marshal did not ask the justices to sign affidavits swearing they didn't leak it. Fact 3 – Michael Chertoff, the former secretary of Homeland Security, who wrote a letter endorsing the investigation's findings had previous undisclosed financial ties to the court. Fact 4 – The marshal did not question former clerks. Fact 5 – It did not gather telephone or text data. “A nuclear bomb went  off at the Supreme Court,” said Dahlia Lithwick, senior editor at Slate. “Now it's so sad, too bad.” When is an investigation not an investigation — when no one really wants to know who done it.

SAVE THE LAKE — CUT DOWN THE FRIGGIN' TREES

Finally, someone has come up with a real sense solution to saving the Great Salt Lake: Cut down all the friggin' trees — they're using up all the friggin' water. Isn't it always the case, the solution was staring us right in the face all along. Trees aren't much good anyway, all they do is make shade, absorb carbon dioxide and produce oxygen. Then every fall we have to rake, rake, rake instead of watching football. Cutting them down is a solution that's so simple even Utah legislators grasped it and — surprise — they just love it. Of course there are those people who think too much Bear River water goes to growing alfalfa instead of going into the lake. Sure, some of the alfalfa is sold to China, but only 30 percent. And it only takes about 450,000 gallons of water to grow a ton of alfalfa. We're talking tradition here, it's part of our pioneer heritage. We can't just throw that away simply because the lake will disappear leaving a lakebed of toxic dust. Besides, sending all that water into the lake would mean less alfalfa for China. Let's just cut down trees and let all that tree-water refill the shrinking lake. Anyway, the Wasatch Front has way too many trees. And here's a bonus, if we cut down the trees, they won't blow over in the next big windstorm. It's a win/win solution if there ever was one.

INVESTIGATE THE INVESTIGATORS

Things are about to get a lot better. Ohio Congressman Jim Jordan, who now chairs the House Judiciary Committee, is about to clear all the pinkos, deep state Democrats and Black Panthers out of the federal government. Props for Jim. We know the Democrats have weaponized the Department of Justice. Why else would the FBI raid Donald Trump's seaside castle? We know why, because they're mean, hideous thugs who want to make Trump look silly — as though that were even possible. This is not retribution for the DOJ investigating Republicans who were close to Jan. 6 insurrectionists. It only looks like retribution. Jimmy Jordan and his Republican statesmen in the House are going to de-weaponize the weaponized DOJ. See, here's the thing, the DOJ, FBI, etc. only investigate Republicans. They never investigate Democrats. And what about that Fauci dude and Hunter Biden. They haven't been investigated. It's just not right. And it only gets worse — in its report the House select committee for Jan. 6 described Jordan as  a “significant player” in Trump's failed coup. And we know that's intended to sick the FBI on Jimmy. Isn't it obvious that someone has to investigate the investigators. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it. Lucky for us, Jimmy Jordan just loves dirty jobs.

Post script — That's it for another frigid week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track  of pollutants from Mag Corp wafting over Salt Lake Valley so you don't have to. US Magnesium, located on the western shore of the Great Salt Lake, is responsible for 25 percent of chemicals released into the air that form PM2.5 — very nasty pollution. This, of course, is among the reasons why we have The Greatest Air On Earth. Why doesn't the Utah Travel Council advertise that with big electronic billboards in every major airport in the country, like it does with our ski resorts and national parks. Yes Wilson, that was a rhetorical question. But take heart, the air in New Delhi, India, is worse than ours — on some days. From our “News U Can Use” -file: A woman in Coventry, Conn., opened a breakfast cafe named “Woke Breakfast & Coffee,” not realizing she had just jumped head first into the culture wars. Facebook lit up with nasty comments and accusations she was making a political statement with breakfast. (How dastardly.) But the backlash had a backlash, and according to The Washington Post, folks lined up for a woke breakfast. And finally this: HORMEL has come out with a beer called Chili Cheese Brew that “captures the essence of HORMEL Chili Cheese Dip.” Bottoms up.

Alright Wilson, we gotta do something for the poor Supreme Court. They can't find the leak and its the worst thing that ever happened to Samuel Alito. He could've been assassinated or worse. Really? Well, on second thought maybe you and the guys in the band can take us out with something for the cat burglar who leaked the leak:

There's a man who leads a life of danger To everyone he meets he stays a stranger With every move he makes Another chance he takes Odds are he won't live to see tomorrow Secret Agent Man Secret Agent Man They've given you a number and taken away your name Beware of pretty faces that you find A pretty face can hide an evil mind Oh, be careful what you say Or you'll give yourself away Odds are you won't live to see tomorrow Secret Agent Man Secret Agent Man They've given you a number and taken away your name Swinging on the Riviera one day And then laying in a Bombay alley next day Oh, don't you let the wrong words slip While kissing persuasive lips Odds are you won't live to see tomorrow Secret Agent Man Secret Agent Man They've given you a number and taken away your name

(Secret Agent Man — Johnny Rivers)

[sanjosenewshq]

My dishonest husband says I am responsible for his dangerous decisions

Expensive Abby: After 40 years of marriage, I simply came upon that my husband was in a romantic relationship, in addition to a real girlfriend he is had for 15 years. I forgave him one final time. This time, he solely mentioned he was flawed, however he supplied no apology, neither is he remorseful. How can this be resolved? I took off my marriage ceremony rings and refused to go to household gatherings. I’ve learn that if he had no regrets and requested for forgiveness, it would not work out. Furthermore, he blames me for his poor and impulsive decisions. Then he downplayed what he did and instructed me I used to be “overreacting”. How do I earn his respect? How do you persuade somebody of how dangerous they’re to you, and get them to make higher decisions? Error in Delaware Expensive mistaken: It may be time for some self-examination. Ask your self what your husband may be in search of in these purely emotional issues. (I am assuming it isn’t bodily, otherwise you would have written in any other case.) If you wish to keep married to him, put these marriage ceremony rings again on and inform him that you simply clearly do not talk successfully with one another. Inform him you need to work on bettering your marriage with the assistance of a licensed marriage and household counselor, and make an appointment. Throughout these classes, it’ll turn into clear to him that you’ve been severely harm. Nonetheless, be ready to listen to some essential feedback about you from him. For a lot of {couples}, this has healed an unhealthy relationship. Expensive Abby: It has been greater than three years since I spoke to my ex-best pal. We have been greatest associates for practically 15 years. The friendship ended after we had been in our early twenties as a result of she did not like the blokes I used to be courting. I additionally did not agree with a few of the decisions she was making, which led to some dangerous arguments. I talk together with her by social media as a ‘quick chat’, nevertheless it seems like I am speaking to a co-worker. I miss my greatest pal. I noticed her not too way back in a mall, and he or she did not seem like herself. I used to be fearful about her. My life has advanced, and I really feel like I’ve grown for the higher. I want to share these experiences with somebody I’ve thought-about a greatest pal for a very long time. Wouldn’t it be flawed to invoke the previous? How do I share that “the previous was the previous” and I need to return to the place we was? A pal lacking in Missouri Expensive misplaced pal: Name the lady, inform her you noticed her on the mall, and ask her how she’s doing. Counsel you each have lunch someday to catch up. If she agrees, inform her throughout lunch that you simply miss the intimacy you had earlier than. Do not point out the rationale in your coldness in your relationship or the truth that she “would not seem like herself.” If she does make a rift, take heed to her and inform her that you simply assume each of you have got grown up since then. I hope it really works out and you may sort things, however do not rely on it, as a result of quite a lot of issues have occurred in your lives for the reason that previous days. For these celebrating Rash Hashanah: At sundown, the Jewish New Yr begins. Throughout this time of significant contemplation, I want my Jewish readers “L’shana tova tikatevu” – I hope you’re recorded within the E book of Life and have 12 months. love, dad Abbey Abbey was written by Abigail van Buuren, also called Jane Phillips, and was based by her mom, Pauline Phillips. Contact Expensive Abby at www.DearAbby.com or PO Field 69440, Los Angeles, CA 90069. Originally published at San Jose News HQ

#San Jose News HQ

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Happy ShikaTema (4/10)!

I had to post something for my babies on their day!  Here’s the first chapter of a modern AU that I’ll never finish.

Summary:  Temari is a top divorce lawyer.  Sharp, cruel and cunning her skills in the courtroom are unmatched.   Life experiences led her to have certain beliefs about love and relationships.  Could a certain stand in flower seller change her mind?

*

**

De jure

*

“You ever get tired of ruining the lives of men?” 

Temari grinned at what she considered a compliment from her colleague. 

“Do you ever get tired of representing the absolute scum of the Earth?” 

Her male counterpart shrugged. “If they keep paying me the way they do I’ll represent Satan himself.”

“I’d say given your last client you already have.” 

“You wound me Temari.”  He replied dramatically, clutching at his heart.  She was sure that it was more related to how times she’d rejected his request for a date. 

“That’s what I live for.” 

Temari was one of the top and most sought out divorce lawyers in the area.  Known far and wide for her skills and talent.  

She was an absolute terror in court. Ruthless, calculated and precise. She always seemed to get the settlement, decision or outcome that she wanted.

Each case was its own kind of Chess match and she was determined to outplay her opponents every time. Beyond the mental challenge it presented she found joy in helping her clients get out of terrible relationships. The settlements didn’t necessarily forgive what happened, but it helped. 

A success story by every measurement.  Shrewd, and cunning she’d established herself as someone to be reckoned with.  And she relished being in that role. She didn’t work as hard as she did to make herself small in a field that was dominated by men.  

A lucrative career. The respect and fear of her peers.  There was little more than she could ask for.  But despite it all there was still ….something. 

Temari took a deep breath walking into the familiar flower shop. When she was younger and just starting out as a lawyer she’d send her clients flowers after their final meeting. It was just a little extra touch of comfort after having to go through such a difficult process. It became a habit. Usually she’d just have an assistant call in the order but today was a tough case and she needed the comfort of flowers. 

Her favorite store was just a few steps away from her office.  Family owned and operated their flowers and arranging skills were unmatched. She used their services so much that she’d even formed a working friendship with the shop's owner. 

Instead of the familiar blonde she was used to seeing she found an utterly bored man staring off into space.

Ino had told her weeks ago that she’d be going away on vacation with her husband and that a friend would be watching the store for her.  

“Oh you must be Ino’s replacement?”  This shook him out of his stupor and he straightened up to look at her.  

“Temari?”

A surprise look crossed her face at hearing her name.  “Ino told you about me.” 

“A little bit. She just mentioned that you might be stopping by.  She wanted to make sure that I didn’t scare away her best customer.”

“Still a chance.” 

His lips lifted into a curve at the response. “Hope not, Ino would never let me hear the end of it.  I’m Shikamaru.”

She shook his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

“I have your previous orders on record. Just need to know which arrangement and the address.” 

“We’re going to go with the 4th one.” 

“That’s a pretty pricey arrangement.” 

“Well it was a pretty pricey settlement.”

He nodded, entering the information into the computer. “So you just send your clients flowers after they get divorced.”  Ino seemed to have filled him in. 

“If their partners had done it before then maybe there wouldn’t have been one.” 

“Touché”  He replied, agreeing with the reasoning. 

Her eyes shifted down towards a colorful arrangement.  “Besides, I might be heartless but even I have some compassion. These women have been through a lot. An act this simple, well, I’d like to believe it means something.” 

“I think that it does.”  She appreciated the sincerity in his response. 

“Here’s my question though.”  She stared, curious.  This was a very odd and unfamiliar interaction.  She intimidated the people that she came in contact with.  It took time for her and Ino to go beyond the basic small talk.  Shikamaru though didn’t seem the least bit wary of her.    

“When was the last time someone gave you flowers?”

Temari paused before replying.  “Can’t say it’s ever happened.”

“Then let me be the first.”  Surprisingly a single large yellow flower was presented to her.  

She grinned, taking the bright flower from his hand. 

“A sunflower?”

He nodded.  “It seemed fitting.”

She was unconvinced.  “How so? My sunny disposition?”  

“Maybe. How about we go out on a date tomorrow night and I’ll tell you why.”  He offered with a hopeful smile.  

In spite of herself she grinned at the self assured smirk across his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m really not interested in dating right now.” The words well automatically from her lips. 

Shikamaru’s face fell but he nodded.  “I can respect that. Well. I’m here for a few weeks till Ino gets back. Don’t be a stranger.” 

“Thank you and uhm thank you for this.” The fact that she could be taken by such a simple gesture was absurd but her fingers were clutched carefully around the flower's stem.

He waved off the thanks.  “You deserve them.”

“Flowers?”

“Yes, fields of them.”  He replied without a hitch.  

Temari stood there speechless by the sincerity.  This wasn’t a situation where someone was just trying to butter her up. She’d learned to read people quite well. This strange stand-in flower seller was genuine. “Thank you Shikamaru.”

“Anytime Temari.”

*

**

“Where’s the flower from?”  Temari wasn’t surprised by the familiar voice.  Her brothers despite having their own places would often drop by unannounced. 

“This guy, Ino’s replacement at the flower shop.”

Kankuro looked at her curiously.  Her brother was becoming excited.  “Did he ask you out?”

“Yes”

The flat response wasn’t promising. “And I assume that you rejected him.”

“I didn’t reject him. I’m just-“ 

“Not interested in dating. Yes I know. Well if hanging out with you baby brother is better than a free meal on a Friday night.”  He teased her with a shrug.  

“Hey asshole you came here.”

He ignored her response to continue.  “Come on Tem, what’s the harm in dating? Sure maybe early on it would have been a distraction but at this point what do you have left to prove.”

“Should you really be asking me that?”

“I date all the time. But it would be wrong to commit to one person.”  He explained.  

Temari just shook her head annoyed.  It wasn’t the first time that one of her brothers had brought up their concerns about her lack of a love or social life. 

 “Right.”

“I’m just saying, don’t let dad take another thing from you-

Her hand slammed against the countertop.  “Kankuro that’s not it.” 

He just sighed and pulled her in tight. Whenever he or Gaara brought him up Temari would just end up shutting down. 

“You’re brilliant Tem. Smart, successful and if you don’t want a relationship that’s fine but let that be your choice.  I’m not telling you to put yourself out there just for the sake of it but if someone happens to catch your eye. It might be worth exploring.”  

She stayed silent.  She knew that he was just concerned but she didn’t have a good response at this point.  

“That sunflower reminds me of mom.” Temari nodded remembering the brightly colored flowers that used to grow so beautifully in their backyard.  This flower had brought up some troublesome feelings.  

“Alright I’m out.  I know you're stubborn but just think about what I said.  Love you sis.”

She hugged him back tight.  She had him and Gaara. Whether she ever found anyone else she’d be happy with just being the three of them.  “Love you too.” 

Once Kankuro was gone Temari’s fingers gently glided over the soft yellow petals fighting back tears. 

‘You’re my sunflower Temari. Always face the sun, beautiful girl.’

She shook away the thought of warm summers and even warmer hugs.  What was the point in reliving the past?  It wouldn’t change anything.  She paced through the large, empty house. Despite how annoyed she’d act when her brothers were over she always hated the deafening silence that followed once they left. 

A buzz from her phone was a welcomed distraction. 

“Hey, it's Shikamaru from the flower shop. I got your number from your client profile.”

A series of panicked texts followed. 

“Please don’t sue me.”

“Fuck, please don’t tell Ino.”  Temari stared at the text message in disbelief.  She knew that she should feel offended, violated even but more than anything she was just curious. 

“It’s okay. Did you need something?”

“No uh I just wanted to say it was nice meeting you today. If you’re ever free from your big important job I wouldn’t mind company at the store.”  

“Ya know if you’re not busy. “

Temari’s fingers hovered over the keyboard ready to send an automatic rejection, but paused thinking about what Kankurou had just told her.  If she was honest with herself the temporary florist had sparked her interest during their brief interlude. 

“I’d like that.”  She bit her lip nervously waiting for his response. 

“Don’t make fun of me, but that made me really happy.” 

She hated the smile that automatically crossed her face.  “You’re embarrassing.” 

“You hurt me Sunshine.” 

They text back and forth well into the night.  Charming and intelligent Shikamaru was an easy person to talk to.  She didn’t get along with most people.  Often finding them tedious and obnoxious.  He was the exact opposite.  

Late into the night as she turned into bed she was surprised to see a call flash on her screen.

“Shikamaru?”

“Sorry I’m about to fall asleep so I just wanted to be sure that I didn't before I wished you a good night.”  

She felt her chest warm at the gesture.  His sleep-addled voice was a pleasing melody.  

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I really did though.  So thank you for today.  Good night Temari.”

How long had it been since someone had so sweetly wished her good night.

“Good night Shikamaru.”

She laid in bed that night clutching her phone to her chest. The warmth and giddiness felt so unfamiliar but it wasn’t a bad feeling.  

She was adamant about not dating. Sure that she was content with the life that she led.  She could have never imagined Shikamaru coming into her life.  

It would be easier to break off whatever this was now.  He was a stranger, she didn’t owe him anything.  It would hurt far less.  But the idea of just walking away.  Of pretending that they hadn’t met and to ignore the odd connection that had begun to form.  

Well, that seemed much more painful.  

Shikamaru's eyes slowly began to fall close. It was way past his usual bedtime but he’d gladly forgo his beloved sleep to talk to Temari. 

He recalled fondly when her expression lifted just a little when he'd given her that simple flower. Asking her on a date was such an uncharacteristic and impulsive act. Ino would kill him if she found out that he wrote down her phone number but this was all her fault. Ino had told him all about her hot shot lawyer customer. And had more than once mentioned that she and Shikamaru would get along well.

So while meeting Temari however briefly was new it wasn’t unfamiliar. Temari was beautiful, powerful and successful. On the surface it seemed like a charmed life. But the heaviness and sadness in those striking teal eyes told a different story. 

He sent her one final text before he finally succumbed to sleep. 

“🌻”

*

**

Notes:  Hope you enjoyed this.  Like I said I doubt that I’ll ever continue this but I wanted to post for today.  Also head to @inoshikachozine to preoder a zine I contributed a story to!  Such amazing talent contained in one little book/merch!!!! See you soon! Love you pretty babies! 

#shikatema #shikatem #shikamaru x temari #shikamaru #temari #naruto fanfiction #happy shikatema day

[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 4}

We're almost to the end!! Much love to all of you for reading 💜

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1} {part 2} {part 3}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: mentions of death/war/murder, mentions of torture (brief), mentions of physical abuse (brief), emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 5.4k

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

Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

Instincts  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You’d slept maybe a total of twelve hours in the three days since the poisoning attempt.  Things were still tense between you and Chan after your outburst at the pond.  The king didn’t want him leaving the safety of his chambers, not knowing if there would be another attack on his life, which meant you only really saw him at mealtimes.  You’d tried to apologize for raising your voice at him a few times but could never manage to look him in the eye, always leaving the room before he could say anything more than a thank you for the food.  You were also avoiding him because you felt you’d revealed something in those words, a small part of the way you felt about him, and you weren’t ready to confront any of the implications from that just yet.  At night, you couldn’t sleep, your thoughts full of fear for Chan’s safety and concern for what would happen between Gu and Lajor.  So you’d spent the hours wandering the outskirts and corridors of the castle, lingering especially in the wing where the prince’s room was.

It was on the third night of your rounds, as you were walking the eastern side of the castle that faced the forest, the air humid and suffocating on your skin, that you spotted a flash of gold hair headed for the base of the closest tower.  You turned and followed the hooded figure as they approached the castle entrance, and the growing sinking feeling in your stomach was confirmed when their face caught the light.

You had to hand it to her, she either had a death wish or nerves of steel to show up here again.

Korenna was attempting to break through the bolt on the door when you pulled up behind her, bringing a hand to her mouth and a knife to her throat.

“I could kill you where you stand, and no one would protest at my decision.”

“You could, but I don’t believe you will,” she responded, voice calmer than you expected.

You whipped her around to face you, snarling in a whisper, “Don’t you dare use my own words against me.  I said that to you when I thought I could trust you, and you’ve made it blatantly clear that was a misjudgement on my part.”

“Y/n no please listen it wasn’t.  I know I was rude and standoffish - “

“Rude and standoffish?!” you repeated in disbelief.  “Sure that’s definitely what we’re talking about right now.  You know, I always thought maybe it was because you were a shy person, or because you were jealous, but, as it turns out, you just aren’t one of those people who likes to get really close to the person she’s trying to murder.”

Korenna looked like she was about to cry, leaning forward as if to grab at your arms despite the knife still pointing at her throat.  “Please, Y/n, that’s not what I meant, I can explain!  Do you really think you were so wrong about me; do you really think I could kill a man in cold blood?”

You shouldn’t even be entertaining her excuses, you thought to yourself.  She was trying to use your pride against you, to trick you into letting her explain herself so you didn’t have to admit you were wrong.  But, like always, as you watched her, trying to discern any ounce of deceit or malice, you found none.

You lowered the knife, stepping back and motioning for her to continue.

“You know that my father was crazy enough to try to invade Gu all those years ago.  What you don’t know is that he’s only gotten more delusional and power hungry over all these years, hell bent on taking down your kingdom as revenge against King Bang and completely disregarding the well being of his own.  Last year, I had been trying to gather support from the ministers, to show them just how corrupt, how evil he had become.  That was when my mother died and my father finally snapped, leaving me and my nine year old sister completely at the whim of his wrath.  He locked Paige away at some secret fortress and told me that if I didn’t agree to his plan of killing Prince Chan and wreaking havoc on your kingdom, he would leave her alone to starve to death.  He gave me three weeks to decide and I searched for her desperately, but at the end of it I was no closer to finding her and was forced to agree to the marriage he had arranged to initiate his plot.”

“Why should I believe any of this?”

“Because she’s here, right now.  We crossed the border with a small group of knights who are sympathetic to our position.  They wanted to help me, and I want to help you, but I had to make sure my sister was safe.  Now that she is, we can work together to protect your kingdom and hopefully preserve mine.”

You were silent, taking her and her story in.

“If you could just bring me to Chris, let me tell him all of this, apologize for what I did,” she pleaded, eyes begging even more than her words.

“Fine.  I will bring you to His Highness, and he will decide what to do with you.”

***

You led Korenna past the guards, neither of them giving you a second look when they saw it was you despite your concealed companion.  Chan was known for burning the midnight oil, and tonight was no different.  You could see the light drifting out from beneath his door as you knocked lightly, and were met with his quiet, “Come in.”

You opened the door, remaining in the door frame as he turned to face you.  “Your Highness, there’s someone here to see you,” you said, stepping aside and pushing Korenna in front of you before you followed in and shut the door.

Chan sat still for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, legs and arms crossed in his most casual yet intimidating pose.

“Unless my oldest friend has decided to kill me tonight, which I certainly hope is not the case, you must have had a pretty convincing reason for her to bring you here.”

Korenna remained silent, looking between you and the prince nervously.

Chan rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated.  “Well?  Let me hear it.”

She told him everything, about her father’s plot and her involvement, the threats against her sister, how she had support from the knights and probably a fair majority of the people as well.

“I know you could never forgive me for what I did, but I am truly, sincerely sorry,” she said, head bowed.

The prince seemed to be contemplating her story just as you had.  Finally, his voice broke the silence.

“Show me this sister of yours and then I will decide how we proceed.”

***

You walked next to Chan as you followed Korenna into the forest where her sister was supposedly waiting with the Lajoran knights.  You didn’t like this plan, knew if Korenna’s description was true, you and Chan would be severely outnumbered should things turn south, but Chan had insisted on only taking you with him.  He looked unusually pensive as you walked, and you decided to take this opportunity to give your apology, in case it happened to be your last.

“Your Highness,” you said quietly, “I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I am for how I spoke to you by the pond.  You were only trying to comfort me and I took my insecurities out on you and you didn’t deserve that.”

He put his arm out in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?  Y/n, I’ve been trying to ask you for three days if you were alright and all this time you’ve been feeling guilty?  Please, please don’t feel that way, I would never blame you for what happened and I was never upset about our conversation.  Promise me you won’t keep anything like this from me again?”

You looked at each other and you nodded, both silently agreeing not to touch on the part of that previous conversation where you revealed something else you’d been keeping from him.

The two of you jogged back up to where Korenna had stopped at a small, raised hill surrounded by rocks.  It certainly was a good vantage point and hiding spot.  Once again, you hoped your instincts about this woman and her intentions would be correct.

Korenna led you around the corner of one of the rocks, and that was when you saw the young girl.  She was lying wrapped in a blanket despite the heat, and her hair looked dirty and matted.  The men sitting around her straightened as Korenna approached the group, but she held up her hand to show them you were on their side.  The girl lifted her head when she heard your footsteps, her gaunt face morphing into a smile at the sight of her sister.

“Korenna, you’re back,” she rasped as the elder knelt and wrapped her in a hug, and your heart broke at the sound of her barely there voice.

“Your Highness…”

“I know,” he said, reading what you were going to say from the tone of your voice, “we need to get her to Felix.”

You both approached the pair and you knelt down next to Korenna, speaking softly to the younger princess.

“Hello Paige.  My name is Y/n.  I’m a friend of your sister.  She’s brought you a really long way to make sure you’re safe, and we’re going to get you some help now so you can feel better.  Would that be alright with you?”

The little girl nodded, and you looked up at Korenna, silently asking permission to pick her up.  Korenna nodded as well, so you gathered Paige into your arms and began the trek back to the palace, some of the knights following along with you.  You looked behind you to see Chan place his hand on Korenna’s shoulder.

“Thank you for showing me.  Together we’re going to make this right.”

Conscription  |  Kingdom of Lajor, present day

“Your Majesty, the villagers are reporting they have no more men to send, and those in the city have been rioting for two days since the conscription announcement went out.  The knights can barely keep the peace and we have more and more deserters every day.  I’m just not sure we should continue hounding the people - ”

King Eunther looked up from his seat in the throne room, cutting the man off with a steely, impenetrable gaze.

“Sir Bavrard, do the people control this kingdom?”

“N-no, Your Majesty.”

“And do the knights?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Then please explain to me why you are suggesting we listen to the complaints of those ungrateful, insubordinate traitors over my own direct orders?!” the king shouted, Sir Bavrard cowering beneath him.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I just don’t know what else we can do to compel such a large uprising - “

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” King Eunther snarled, rising from his chair, “you can tell them that if they don’t cooperate, you will bring them to stand in front of me and I will personally remove their head from their body.  Do I make myself clear?!”

32 men died that day.

Checkmate  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You entered the infirmary, walking over to where Prince Felix sat at the bedside of a much healthier looking Paige.

“Y/n!” she called, her head peeking around Felix’s shoulder to smile at you.

“Hello little princess,” you said, returning her smile as you came to stand beside Felix.  “I’m glad to see you doing much better.  Do you mind if I borrow your companion for a moment?”

“Nope!” she pronounced, going back to the book she’d been reading as Felix followed you to the corner of the room.

“You were right, her condition is much improved,” Felix said.  “I’m still a little worried about her malnourishment, but as long as she remains well fed and warm, she should be alright.”

“That’s good news; Princess Korenna will be glad to hear it.  She wanted me to thank you for tending to her, Your Grace.”

“I’m delighted to!” he exclaimed quietly.  “She’s got quite the personality in that little body of hers, kept me on my toes the last few days.”

As if on cue, Paige piped up from behind the two of you, “Felix, could I have that glass of orange juice you’d said you’d bring me?  I waited ten minutes like you said.”

“See?” he said with a smile and a raise of his eyebrows, turning to leave the room.  You followed after him, sending a wave and a wink to the princess on your way.

You headed back to the throne room, where King Bang, Chan, Korenna, Minho, and the rest of the head knights were gathered.  They’d been discussing their plans for the imminent Lajoran attack for a few days now, Korenna and her knights filling in any gaps of knowledge or speculating on Eunther’s strategies when they could.  You’d been in attendance as well, taking notes, marking maps, and giving suggestions every once in a while.  Battle planning had never been your favorite task; you couldn’t help but think about all the senseless loss that came from two men getting into a pissing contest over who should control what land or trying to ‘avenge their honor.’  Surely there had to be a better way, especially in this situation where it was clear the Lajoran people were not exactly in support of their ruler, to defeat a rogue king without the death of innocent people.

Entering the room, you caught eyes with Korenna, who walked over to meet you in the far corner.

“Prince Felix says she’s still stable, Your Grace.  As long as we keep her here and watch that she’s getting enough food, she should recover just fine.”

“Oh thank god, what a relief,” Korenna sighed, placing one hand on your arm and one over her chest.  “I can’t begin to thank you all enough for what you’ve done for us.”

Your ears perked at that.  Korenna seemed like she also despised the loss of innocent life, considering she hadn’t even been able to kill her father’s enemy despite her own sister being in danger.  Maybe you could suggest your proposal to her and she could advocate for it, as a way of repaying you all and preventing more death.

“Actually, Your Grace, if I may, there is something I was considering.  There may be a potential way to prevent an all out battle between our two peoples, if what you’ve told us is true about your father’s current standing amongst your citizens.  If you were to propose it, the others might take more kindly to it than if it came from me.”

Korenna didn’t say anything, so you took that as a sign to continue.  You explained what you had been turning over in your head for the past few days, checking a few of the details with her.  When you finished, the princess looked a little apprehensive.

“I am in total support of that plan, Y/n,” the princess explained.  “But I worry that if it comes from me, King Bang is going to reject it outright.  I can tell he is not as convinced of my intentions as you and Chris are.”

She had a point.  If the plan were to come from her, it would probably seem more suspicious, more likely to be a trap.  However, you feared the king wouldn’t consider you proposing such a plan to be much more trustworthy.

Korenna seemed to be reading that exact thought on your face as she said, “Why don’t you angle it towards Chris; I know he holds your input in high regard.”

You felt your heart tug at her statement, but pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind.  Korenna was right; you could do this.  You nodded at her and you both returned to the table.

The men were talking, so you tried clearing your throat, but that seemed to do nothing to get their attention.  Noticing your hesitation, Korenna interrupted.

“Gentlemen, I believe Y/n has something to say.”

You smiled gratefully at her then turned your attention to Chan.  If you could just remain focused on him you were confident you could explain your plan and maybe even convince them to buy in to it too.

“Your Highness, I’ve been thinking of a way that we could perhaps avoid any direct conflict with Lajor.  We already know that Her Grace has many supporters, as evidenced by our friends here.  And according to their reports, the people are in no position to support a war; this is all one man’s doing.  So if we can eliminate that one man, our problem would be solved.

I propose we arrange a meeting with King Eunther.  Somewhere neutral, away from the majority of our armies.  We frame it as a truce meeting, have him go into it thinking he will get some concessions from our side in order to prevent a fight.  In reality, we use it as a chance to capture him unawares.  Her Grace can confront her father, and if our information is correct, the knights and soldiers will take her side and we can end this situation with zero loss of life and a new friend on the Lajoran throne.”

You glanced at Korenna and saw she was smiling brightly at you.  Looking back at Chan, you could tell he was seriously considering what you had said, head pressed together with Minho in quiet conversation.  The Lajoran and Guan knights were murmuring to each other, indicating agreement with what you’d proposed.  The only person who appeared to be against it was King Bang.

“Using deception and ambushing a man has always been considered dishonorable,” the king spat, as if you had insulted the very foundation of the kingdom.  “Wars are meant to be fought on the battlefield and our army could easily outpace Lajor’s; there are expectations and traditions that should be upheld.”

It took everything in you not to scream at him, to unleash a lifetime’s worth of anguish caused by his ignorance and arrogance.  You’d had enough of hearing this man talk about all the noble pursuits of battle without ever having to face the consequences of one.  You turned to him, your chin held high.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this is not about the “honor” of taking him down on the battlefield.  This is about not sacrificing the lives of men to maintain your own sense of righteousness.”

The room went silent at that.  You kept your eyes on the king, could feel him seething under his impartial expression.  Under any other circumstances, the punishment for what you’d just said would be severe.  But everyone in the room was starting to come to the realization that your plan had merit.  It would be faster, easier, less costly, and less deadly than simply bracing for an attack, no matter how “dishonorable” it might seem.  And even the king knew now was not the time to berate you, though you were sure it would come back to haunt you later.

You felt Chan press his hand to the small of your back, the sign of support giving you more strength.  “Y/n is right.  Even if we would be likely to take a victory in battle, her plan has the best chance of rooting out the cause of our problem here and now and placing both our kingdoms in a better position for the long term.  If anyone disagrees, they should speak now.”

Everyone kept silent, some nodding their heads in agreement with the decision.

“Then we shall prepare to execute it.”

***

You avoided the throne room as much as possible for the next few days as preparations were made, wanting to have as little interaction with the king as you could.  Chan had praised you after the meeting, had said he was proud you’d spoken up to his father.  You knew the prince had the best of intentions, but you also knew he could never understand what it was like to know that by doing what you did, you’d surrendered yourself to whatever punishment the king saw fit to assign after this ordeal came to an end.

A rider had been dispatched to Lajor to deliver the terms of your meeting.  In the letter, Gu had agreed to secede the western most portion of its territory as well as deliver half its military forces to Lajor.  The only stipulation was an in person meeting to sign the documents.  As suspected, King Eunther was too tempted by power to see through your guise, thin as it may have been.  The meeting was set for today at noon.

Armies from both sides were prepared, in case this peace offering did not go smoothly.  The plan was to bring you, Chan, Korenna, King Bang, Minho, the Lajoran knights, and a few members of your own royal guard to the meeting place, which was designated to be the same spot in the forest where the earlier attempt on Chan’s life took place.

Hours before the meeting, you were making your way through the forest as quickly and quietly as you could, bow strapped to your back and dressed in your most inconspicuous woodland attire.  You were to arrive at the grove early so you could take your position prior to anyone else arriving, or, in the worst case, report back if an enemy agent was attempting to do the same.  It was decided earlier that you would walk there alone, in order to leave as little trace as possible.

You didn’t mind the solitude as you meandered through the woods, trying not to leave an obvious trail behind you.  Before you’d left, Korenna had come to confirm with you the signal for your part of the plan.  Then, just as you were about to enter the forest, a voice called your name.

“Y/n!”

“Your Highness, you should be preparing with the others.”

“I know I-I just had to see you before you go.  To tell you goodluck.”

You looked at him and, steeling yourself for what you were about to do, tugged him into a crushing embrace.  He returned the hug, his head close enough to hear you whisper, “You too.”

Both of you were well aware of the hundreds of unspoken things behind the brief words you exchanged, but they were all that needed to be said for now.

You reached the clearing and found the tree with the best camouflage that had the vantage point you wanted.  Climbing up, you settled in for the long wait until the rest of the players arrived.

***

After about two hours, you heard the distinctive clopping of hooves coming from the direction of the Gu palace.  A few moments later, your friends came into sight of the clearing.  Remaining hidden, you watched as they fanned out into a semi-circle facing the direction of Lajor, King Bang and Korenna in the center.

Minutes passed and the Lajorans were nowhere to be seen.  It felt eerily quiet in the forest, and you began to worry King Eunther had caught on to your plan and was in the midst of attacking the city as you all stood here waiting for him.  However, after another few tense minutes, the Lajoran party arrived, consisting of King Eunther, his most trusted advisor Sir Bavrard, and thirty or so additional knights on foot, far more than the agreed upon fifteen.  You surveyed them as they formed a group behind Eunther.  Most looked anxious, like they weren’t quite sure what they should do in the event they were told to act, others seemed outright bored, and they all appeared to be sorely lacking in food and armament.  Just as Korenna had predicted, and just as you’d counted on for your plan to work.

“Sir Alfrey,” Eunther began, spotting Korenna’s biggest supporter on his horse beside her, “I should have known you’d be behind all this.”

Your friends remained silent, their expressions blank.

The king seemed slightly unnerved at the lack of response, and decided to try another tactic.  “So, am I to believe you brought my daughter here as a gesture of good faith, an additional item to be returned to me in the terms of our... arrangement?”

Chan’s even tempered voice rang out.  “She is not our prisoner; she came to us of her own free will.”

“And what of my younger daughter, Paige?”

“Don’t.  Speak.  Her name,” Korenna gritted out.

“Oh Korenna, you stupid girl; you’re the whole reason we’re in this unpleasant mess, so just stay quiet and let the men do the talking.”

You felt an angry coil rise in the pit of your stomach at his words, more resolved than ever to execute your plan and free Korenna from this abuse for good.  Taking your stance, you kept your eyes trained on the Lajoran king.

“No, father.  I will not stay quiet,” Korenna spoke again.  It had been agreed she would do most of the talking; the more riled up the king became the more reckless he would be, and his daughter talking back to him seemed to do the trick perfectly.

Eunther opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, Korenna continued.  “We did not ask you here today to sign a truce or give you any concessions to appease you.  We came here to put an end to this feud and an end to your rule.  You have irresponsibly and unjustly led our people, going so far as to torture and kill them when they do not agree with your machinations.  It is my obligation to remove you from the throne for the sake of our kingdom.  You will surrender to us now and I will walk our men off this battlefield and home to their families.”

You knew it would be your cue soon, your arm pulling back to anchor an arrow at the corner of your mouth.

“I think you can see my forces far outnumber yours at the moment,” the king said, gesturing to the knights behind him.  “And sadly you seem to believe our people are as disloyal as you are, an unfortunate misjudgement.  Why would I ever agree to your weak-minded, insolent little proposal?”

You let the arrow fly, and watched as it sailed just past Eunther, nicking his ear and drawing the tiniest drop of blood.

In the ensuing chaos caused by the seemingly rogue arrow, your team of knights rushed the Lajoran side, many of them laying down their weapons immediately in the face of the much healthier, much better armed Guan force.  You looked to see Minho drag Bavrard out from where he was crouched under the legs of his horse, lest an arrow attempt to find him as its target.  The other royals from your party remained safe in their position below and slightly to the left of your own.  Satisfied, you notched another arrow.

King Eunther put his hand to his ear, feeling the cut, and rose his gaze to find you perched in the treetops above.  “You missed.”

“I assure you,” you heard Chan say, “if she’d wanted it, you’d be dead.”

“I don’t want to kill you father,” came Korenna’s softer-edged voice.  “But if your choice is not to surrender, well, I’m afraid you’ve forced my hand.”

The smug look finally left the king’s face, his eyes darting around to see his companions abandoning him.  He got down from his horse, arms open wide in a begging posture mirroring his attitude that had shifted on a dime, hoping to win over his daughter with fake apologies and promises.  Damn, you thought, this man really doesn’t have a principled bone in his body.

“Korenna, daughter, please don’t do this.  I’m sure we can - “

An arrow landed in the grass between his feet.  He’d taken one step too close for your liking.

“Sir Alfrey,” Korenna instructed, “please take my father into custody.”

The king blanched as the knight dismounted and stepped forward, a steady stream of curses leaving his lips.

“I will get my revenge on you, you impudent little girl!  How do you think you will succeed in this plan of yours without me; you know nothing of running a kingdom!  You should watch your back, dear daughter, for I will always be lurking; I swear to you, you will never be rid of me!”

“Actually, father,” Korenna said, riding past him on her striking white mare, “I already am.”

Reign  |  Kingdom of Lajor, present day

Standing outside the palace gates hand-in-hand with Paige, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.  You’d just exited the carriage that had carried King Bang, Chan, you, and the little princess back to her kingdom.  Korenna’s coronation was happening today, and luckily Paige had recovered enough to travel just in time to make it for her sister’s momentous occasion.

After Korenna had successfully confronted her father, she had made her way to the waiting Lajoran army and proclaimed there would be no battle.  They’d rejoiced and, unlike her father’s deluded assumption of the opposite, the kingdom had welcomed her as their ruler with open arms.  You and the others had returned to announce the good news to your own citizens, and to Paige, who was ecstatic at her sister’s triumph.  The last few days had been spent drafting amendments and additions to your trade agreements and foreign policy documents; with Korenna on the throne, Lajor and Gu’s relationship would transform from one of hostility to one of cooperation.  In all the bustle, you’d somehow managed to avoid a confrontation with King Bang over your behavior at the war table that day, but you couldn’t help thinking it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped.

You were ushered inside, hundreds of people weaving in and out amongst the beautifully decorated corridors as you found your way to the throne room.  You left the royals to take their seats at the front of the crowd while you went in search of your mother.

Many attendees from Gu, knights, servants, and citizens alike, had come to observe the ceremony, as a kind of display of support and camaraderie for your kingdom’s newly found ally.  You found your mother along the left side wall in a relatively uncrowded spot and took your place to watch your friend as she approached the priest who would bestow upon her the title of Queen of Lajor.

Between the hum of the clergymen reciting holy texts and oaths, you heard your mother whisper, “She knows not the sacrifice she makes to hold this position.”

You thought back to every conversation you’d had with Korenna, how in each and every one she demonstrated a profound devotion to her kingdom and her people.  “I think she does,” you responded.

“It must be daunting, knowing that responsibility sits on your shoulders from the very beginning.”  She saw your gaze shift from Korenna to Chan, seated at the front of the room next to his father, looking proudly up at the princess.

“I can only imagine.”

She paused, then continued, “Do you think you could bear that burden?”

Your mother was well aware of your feelings for the prince, had been since you tearily confessed to her the night of your one and only kiss.  So you knew what she meant.  Knew the question she was really asking, the question you’d pondered yourself more times than you could count.

Would you sacrifice the relative freedom you enjoyed now, agree to be beholden to a people and their wellbeing, in order to be with Chris, the man you loved?

Surprised at this line of questioning though you were, you answered honestly.  “If given the chance, I would bear it a hundred times over.”

Your attention was drawn back to the ceremony then, the priest announcing in a booming voice that Lajor had a new queen, Queen Korenna Dormio, first of her name.

The crowd erupted in applause, and you saw Paige dash up the dias steps to wrap her arms around her sister.  You felt the presence of eyes on you and looked to see Chan, his head turned to smile at you in the crowd.  You smiled back, and the answer you’d given your mother rang in your mind, as true as you’d ever felt it.

You would give anything for him.

{part 5}

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz smut #royal au #alternate universe

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00864: Dogma

Warning: This chapter deals with the aftermath of the Umbara arc and touches on shock, PTSD, and related themes. Please skip this chapter if those things make you uncomfortable. (No grossness like the last chapter, though.)

For the first time in his life, Kix stood in the middle of the medbay and felt utterly lost. They had been picked up by the Resolute, pulled from Umbara's surface aboard General Skywalker's favorite ship, the Twilight. The medbay was filled with men from the 212th and the 501st alike, men mixed together more completely than they ever had been. They were united in one thing: they were clones.

Nothing else mattered right now, maybe nothing else would ever matter. They had been pitted together, forced to fight to the death against their own brothers, and for what? To help a corrupt Jedi prove that clones were defective? Nothing as petty as the colors painted on their armor could separate the troopers from their vode now.

The medbay was overflowing with troopers and Kix felt helpless. Most of the injuries were minor, easily treated, but the emotional trauma…

Everywhere he looked, Kix found brothers frowning, crying, raging at the injustice of it all, or looking just as lost as he felt. Every bed in the medbay was taken up and troopers still filed in. They leaned against the walls, sat eight to a bed, or just stood in the middle of the floor. Normally, the accepted procedure was to create temporary medbays in the Resolute's hangers, but Kix refused to do that. The bodies of his fallen brothers filled every hanger, and he would sooner be court-martialed than force injured or emotionally-vulnerable men to stare at the bodies of men who had died in transit.

And it was only those who had died on their way to the Resolute who were being recovered. The men who had fallen on Umbara's surface would be left there, left to become part of the planet's dark soil. The Republic didn't worry about burying the clones. The new teams who arrived to hold the planet would have orders to collect the numbers of fallen troopers. A full casualty report couldn't be made until then.

An envoy of Jedi healers was on the way to meet the Resolute, their needs deemed too severe to wait until they had docked at Coruscant. It was a surprise, but one that Kix wouldn't turn away. It seemed that, despite being seen as expendable by the Republic, there were some Jedi who felt the injustice of what the clones had undergone.

The generals were out and about, as well. General Skywalker had gone to console Captain Rex, who - according to clone gossip - had nearly destroyed his office after returning to the ship. General Kenobi and Commander Tano were circling the medbay comforting troopers. They did their best not to look hurt by the men who flinched away from them. They understood that such recent betrayal by a Jedi meant that they would not easily trust another.

Kix noted that every Jedi he had seen since they left Umbara was not wearing a lightsaber. Even Commander Tano's iconic dual hilts were missing from her crossed belts.

General Kenobi veered closer to Kix as he moved through the crowd and stopped to speak with him. "I offer my most sincere apologies, Kix. Please, if there is anything I can do to help-"

Kix had started shaking his head before the General had fully formed the question. His brothers wouldn't accept help from a Jedi just now, and it would just agitate them further. Between himself and the three medical droids, Kix knew he could keep the men in the medbay alive until the Jedi relief healers arrived. Just then, though, he had bigger concerns. "Are you all right, General?"

Kenobi looked surprised when Kix gestured at his face and raised a hand to touch the wet trails down his cheeks. "Oh. I hadn't… I just- There is a great deal of pain in this room," he finally explained without apology. "I despise seeing the men like this. I would do anything to remove the pain from them."

"You and I both, General," Kix agreed. He tried to move away in an effort to treat more of the men, but General Kenobi caught at his arm. Before he could fight the reaction, Kix gave a noticeable flinch.

With an apologetic grimace, Kenobi dropped his hand and said, "There's one man I worry about more than these. Dogma is in bad shape. I don't feel anything from him at all in the Force. It isn't a good sign. I know you're busy, but..."

"I'll check on him, sir," Kix assured him, moving away with a medic's clipped steps. At the moment, it still felt more fantasy than reality, but the need for a plan had helped him build concentration. The medbay was too full to be effective, and he needed to start moving troopers away from the area.

Kix easily found Fives and Jesse, sitting in silence in the back of the room. Having obviously decided that the beds were too crowded - or needed by other men - they had opted to sit on the floor with their backs firmly braced against the wall. "I need you both to direct some of the men out of here."

Fives shook his head. "You can't expect them to leave. They're scared."

"I know, but I can't save anyone if I can't move in here," Kix argued. "I know we've gone through a horrible tragedy, but I need them to find somewhere else. Take them to one of the barracks. They need space and quiet and sleep, if they can manage it. I'll even get the ship's mess to send food and drinks, but they need to be away from here."

Jesse's lips were pale. "I don't know if we can move them, Kix. I don't think I can do it."

Kix's temper sparked, but he kept his voice calm and supportive as he crouched down in front of the troopers. "You are both leaders in the 501st. Fives, you're an ARC trooper. Jesse, your actions back there have you in line for a promotion, I can guarantee it. The men look up to you. You've taken care of them this whole time and you'll keep taking care of them by making sure they get the food and rest that they need. Give me a second to get Captain Trapper from the 212th and you can start moving men to the barracks. Move them in small groups and make sure one of you stays at the barracks with them so they feel safe."

A few moments later, Kix led Trapper back to the others, having explained the plan to him as well. "Start with the men who seem most at ease. The nervous ones will follow once they see the others leaving. If any of the men start to show signs of illness or trauma, bring them back here and I'll take care of them."

Fives gave a decisive nod. "Right. Let's start with the men we know will come along. Jesse, get Tup, Gurr, and Strike. They're good at explaining things to people. I'll get Appo, Fledge, and Quasi. They can start convincing people to come with us."

Obviously catching on to Fives's plan, Jesse added, "We'll try to get as many men with us as we can on the first trip. That might get some of the nervous ones to follow along eventually."

"I'll get a few steady troopers from the 212th to help out," Captain Trapper agreed. "Kix, we'll take them to D-Barracks. In case anyone needs one of the men, that's where you'll find us."

Kix nodded his appreciation and the men started working. It was a surprisingly quick process. After the initial troopers had been informed of the plan and circulated the room for a few minutes, the first group left, leaving the medbay noticeably more quiet than it had been. It took a total of four trips to convince all the stragglers, but Kix was eventually left with only a few of the most drastically injured men, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano.

"Should we go to D-Barracks, too?" Ahsoka asked.

Kix gritted his teeth. "Sorry, Commander. Most of the men just aren't ready to be around the Jedi yet. They need a place they can see as being safe, a type of haven."

Open hurt flashed across the Togruta's face. "I just want to help."

"I know, sir, and the men know, too. Everything is just a little fresh right now," Kix assured her. "General, have you spoken to Commander Cody yet?"

General Kenobi sighed and tugged mournfully at his beard. "I tried, but I could sense that he didn't want me there. I cannot be upset that he blames me for the 212th's part in this tragedy. I blame myself, too."

"Sir, I have never known a commander to look up to their general more than Cody does to you. He needs some time, but he knows the only one to blame for this mess is Krell." He thought for a moment. "Can you find someone to relieve Admiral Yularen?"

"On the bridge?" Kenobi asked, surprised. "I likely could. May I ask why?"

"He isn't a clone, but he isn't a Jedi. He's a member of the GAR who many of the men look up to. His presence may help them heal. If he's willing, of course."

"Of course," General Kenobi agreed, leaving the medbay at a fast pace.

"Is there anything I can do?" Commander Tano asked.

"Can you order some of the food droids from the mess to deliver supplies to the men?" Kix asked. "They'll need food and water, but hot drinks like caf and tea will help with the shock. Admiral Yularen and the Jedi could help with the delivery side of things. It's a good reason to see and be seen by the men without making them feel invaded by the Jedi."

"I'll do that," Ahsoka told him, spinning decisively on her heel. "Thanks, Kix!"

Before she left the medbay, she paused by the doors to look back at him with her expressive face free of the typical Jedi mask. "I'm glad you're okay, Kix. I really am."

"Me too, Commander," he murmured, but she was long gone.

With a nearly empty medbay, Kix fixed his attention on Dogma. The trooper was huddled in the last bed, his wrists fastened together in front of him in a pair of well-used binders. He stared blankly ahead, giving no reaction even when Kix approached him. His normally intelligent face was slack and his right shoulder gave an occasional twitch.

"Dogma," he said softly. There was no response, and Kix repeated the trooper's name without hope of him answering.

He took a bioscan of Dogma's current state, unsurprised to find that his blood pressure and pulse were high. "Dogma, it's Kix. Can you hear me?"

After a long moment, Dogma repeated tonelessly, "...hear me?"

"Come on, vod," Kix cajoled. "I need you to come back here. Come back, Dogma. You're here, you're safe."

"...safe," Dogma echoed. His brows crinkled slightly, the minor shift seeming tremendously important with his lack of other response. "Not safe. Never safe."

"You are safe," Kix insisted. "You're safe, Dogma. You've made us all safe. No more Krell. You can come back now."

"Krell…" Dogma's eyes lit with recognition of the name and his entire face crumpled a moment later under the weight of the memories. "I killed him. I killed a Jedi."

"A traitor," Kix said firmly. "He wasn't a Jedi. No Jedi would have done what he did."

"He was a commanding officer," Dogma replied, sounding almost like his regulation-quoting self if not for the thickness in his voice. "I killed a commanding officer. The regs say I'll be court-martialed and found guilty. They'll either execute me or lock me away for the rest of my life. I'm not sure which is worse."

Kix rested a hand on Dogma's shoulder, unable to keep it from tightening as he felt the trembling in his brother's body. "You did what you had to do. Not only for us, but for all of the Republic. Krell was a traitor and he deserved to die. Should have died slower, if you ask me. You were too merciful."

Dogma gave a slight chuckle at that, though there was no joy in his eyes. "That's an interesting take on the situation. I don't think the GAR will follow your logic."

"I'll talk to whoever needs to hear me - anyone who will listen," Kix told him fiercely. "You took out a threat. That's what we're trained to do. You're a hero. You should be given a medal, not face a court-martial."

"Even the other men are avoiding me," Dogma said with a shake of his head.

Kix laughed. "Because you killed that ori'dush shabuir? Most of the men want to shake your hand."

Dogma laughed, but the sound quickly turned to stifled sobs and he began to tremble uncontrollably. When Kix was unable to get another response from Dogma and the trooper's blood pressure began soaring to dangerous levels, he administered a mild sedative and waited by the bedside until Dogma's scans showed normal levels once more.

After Dogma fell into a drug-assisted sleep, Kix moved quickly to his desk, opened a link to the holonet, and proceeded to abuse his medical access privileges.

"Kix?" Senator Amidala asked, her confused frown evident even through the unstable connection of the hololink. "Anakin told me what happened on Umbara. I am so sorry-"

"Sorry, ma'am, I don't have much time," Kix interrupted. Thankfully, the senator didn't seem offended. "I have the trooper here who finally put an end to General Krell. He's facing a court-martial and they'll most likely rule against him. I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but is there anything you can do?"

Senator Amidala fell silent, and Kix appreciated that she was taking the time to fully consider his question. "The Senate and the Grand Army of the Republic don't operate jointly, but I think I can find a way to bring this to the Senate's attention since there are clone rights bills on the floor. I will need a few details and I'll warn you that it'll become a publicity circus. Is your trooper all right with that?"

"It's better than death, ma'am," Kix said firmly.

"That is true," she agreed softly. "Send me a file with as much information as you can and I'll put together something. The Senate won't meet tomorrow, but that should give me enough time to get something ready. When will you land on Coruscant?"

"A little less than a standard week from now."

"That should be plenty of time, then."

Senator Amidala's confidence was enough to ease the burden on Kix's shoulders. "Thank you, Senator. I can't tell you what this will mean to Dogma - to all of the men, really."

"It's the right thing to do, Kix," she said, voice filled with conviction. "You and your brothers deserve consideration as thinking beings as well as for the work you do in service of the Republic. We'll give Dogma the best possible chance that we can."

"I couldn't ask for anything more," Kix told her fervently.

---

A/N - Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

#Nobody Listens to Kix #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper kix #clone trooper dogma #general obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #commander ahsoka tano #ahsoka tano #arc trooper fives #clone trooper jesse #captain trapper #padme amidala #senator padme amidala #umbara #umbara aftermath #clone troopers deserve better #more to come #fuck pong krell

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it. 

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’. 

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'. 

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there. 

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else. 

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice. 

When he left us, everyone did.

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

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now. 

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip. 

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train. 

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London. 

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members. 

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't. 

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father. 

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” 

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly. 

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me. 

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?” 

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.” 

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely. 

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could. 

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.” 

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. 

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule.  In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony. 

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister. 

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all. 

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

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

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features. 

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by. 

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying. 

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

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall. 

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony. 

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats. 

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly. 

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine. 

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do. 

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father. 

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks. 

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips. 

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control. 

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly. 

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his. 

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards,  as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead. 

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said. 

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked. 

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

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

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. 

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]

#prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryff #royalfanficcollection #princeharryfanfiction #princeharryfanfic #brf #fanfic #fanfiction #modern royalty fanfic #chapters #modern royalty au #im so excited about this story #but also like #really nervous #i missed this

[fandomflail]

title: Recognition (8/9)

rating: M

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

a/n: i should be wary of promising exact dates as I have a habit of running the edit brush over and over again until i finally reach a point where i can edit no more. and still, the length of this chapter is monstrous. there will be another chapter, as giving myself an additional chapter before the end has allowed me to share more of the world with you. i hope you dont hate me for it. 

also on AO3

_____________________________

CHAPTER 8: Reveal

Killian kissed Emma fiercely, before he, Liam and Elsa sped off. Killian had left Emma with the keys to his home, and it had been hours now since they’d left. She had little word from him and was doing her best to not worry.

Jefferson had regressed, and was now quietly speaking on the communicator to someone she couldn’t see. Belle had taken the opportunity to tutor the kids in History, walking them through the royal lineage.

Emma joined them after she had cleaned the penthouse, thankful for the sore in her muscles as a lot of the anxious energy had been burned off. Despite the fact that Henry kept interrupting Belle with questions, the Head of the B.E.A.S.T was patient and kind in answering them.

She faltered however, when Gracie suddenly asked, “All the kings and queens mentioned have had long lives. And the ones who have died early, like King Brennan, has been a result of foul play. Was he assassinated?”

Belle looked uncomfortable, tossing a glance at Jefferson who paid them no mind. “Well, it’s too early to say, isn’t it? And that’s a rather… well, it could have been mind maladies, an accident, anything. We can’t know for sure. Why jump to that as the first explanation?”

The girl pursed her lips. Emma watched her, the look on her face was so like her father’s it was uncanny. “Papa may have…” her eyes darted to her father who was still in conversation, “he may have alluded that the Queen…” she trailed off, losing her nerve.

“But why?” Emma asked, jumping into the conversation. Her one and only interaction with the Queen Consort had been highly unpleasant, to say the least, but she stood to gain nothing from a dead king, “Liam’s next in line.”

Gracie, Henry and Belle shook their heads in tandem. “That’s not how it works.”

“But he’s the first born son!” She defended.

Her outburst must have caught Jefferson’s attention, because he interjected, “The way the rule works is that, the next ruler must be chosen by the previous.” He clicked off the communicator, joining their side of the room, “Now of course, Kings have long since just ‘chosen’ their children, thus making it a blood lineage, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“That’s right, and precedence was set thousand of years before the Landing of the First Men, during the rule of King Sanfant, who died young and childless. Queen Elligent became the automatic ruler, and re-married. Her daughter would inherit the throne.” Belle recited, as if she could see the book in front of her. “I think there was opposition to automatic inheritance, which led to the formation of the 13,” Belle finished, her tone unsure as she looked to Jefferson, who nodded to confirm her statement.

“But if the ruler was assassinated or died without naming a successor…” Jefferson said, his tone flat, “then the Council would be forced to ascend from their lofty abodes in Irska and decide. Of the 13, most favor Prince William as he spent a long time in Irska. He would most likely take the throne given that he is well liked and has been cultivated as a ruler since he was knee high. However, that appointment won’t come without politics.”  

“You seemed to know this with a certainty…” Emma remarked, watching Jefferson closely. It was imperceptible, but she saw that slight change of expression that told her he hadn’t meant to reveal his depth of knowledge on the matter. Emma realized then that she didn’t actually know what Jefferson did. He kept a remarkably low profile, had little relationships with other elves that she knew of (courtesy of Henry through Gracie) and was really more secretive than was warranted.

Jefferson seemed rigid as he shrugged his shoulder in nonchalance. Emma caught Gracie watching her father critically, validating Emma’s thoughts. “It’s common knowledge,” he said, “just like how one of the barriers for Prince William’s appointment will be whether or not he intends to pass the line to Prince Killian or his own children.”

It may have been an attempt to distract her, but Emma couldn’t help the question, “Why wouldn’t they want Killian to take the throne?”

“I don’t think they like him, mum,” Henry said with an expression that said he severely disagreed with that.

“But why?”

Jefferson sighed, rubbing his neck. “You do remember what I told you all those months ago at the Open Court? That he had eschewed his elven responsibilities and all but left to be human?”

She nodded. Killian had shared with her why he had left, and what he had done in that time.

“It’s a great insult,” Gracie said, nodding sagely.

“There’s 3 books about the incident,” Belle said, squinting her eyes like she was looking through book catalogues in her memory.

“It was big, when it happened. Mostly because of how he did it.The insult to pride has not abated, no matter how nice they play now. I can almost guarantee that one of the conditions of Prince William’s ascension will be that the line will never pass through Prince Killian or any of his progeny.”

Emma felt a wave of rage at the injustice of that, despite the fact that they had not discussed children. Heck, they hadn’t even really discussed their own future! She was also pretty sure Killian had no desire to rule. It was just… the principle of it.

“And Liam will agree to that condition?”

Jefferson scoffed. “Easily. He would not take likely to anyone insulting his family’s honor, but even he would easily agree to such a term. That’s not what will tip the scales.”

“What, then?” Belle asked.

Jefferson sighed, his eyes glancing at them and around the room, as if deciding how much to tell them, and what. His eyes landed on the closed doors, on the eagerly awaiting faces, and when his eyes caught Emma’s, he sighed.

“Understand,” he said in a voice lower than usual, “that what you’re about to hear would be… problematic, to say the least, if repeated elsewhere. Consider perhaps, that some may be hearsay, or completely invalidated.”

“We understand the disclaimer, Papa” Gracie said, sounding impatient.

He sighed again. Emma too, was feeling impatient.

And then, it was like a damn burst.

“The Queen has a rather interesting history, one surprisingly that even escaped the Sukrasa. She’s reinvented herself of sorts. It’s a long story, but she’s from a kingdom far, far, far away. There’s rumored to be a band of elves in the vast desert systems of the Orken, and as no one really knows how to find them or has had much contact with them over literal millennia; most people consider them mythical.”

“They are real?” Belle asks, sounding like someone just told her she’d won a million Glyd. Emma’s sort of glad to see that Henry and Gracie both look as confused as she personally feels.

“It appears so. Her Highness Coraline, though she was nothing but a maiden named Kara then, was… exiled. She was no older than 14 I hear, though I cannot be certain of her age when it happened. It seems she murdered someone, again unverified, or at the least, benefited from the death of some high ranking person in their society. In any case, they sent her to live in a cavern below their systems. Intel implies a deeper level of cave system. In any case, she must have escaped sometime later, though she did so with a baby in her belly.”

“Wait, what? What does this have to do with Liam? How do you know this?” Emma interrupted, incredulous.  

Jefferson held up a hand, as if to say, be patient. He eyed Henry and Gracie, as if regretting that they were hearing this, but must have surmised it was too late now, as he continued, “She made her way to a settlement somewhere on the borders of Snoland and Nysno, where it was said the child passed during birth - that a decision had to be made so she chose to live. Fashioned a completely new identity there, became a key strategist in Snoland, was recommended to serve in Irska, where she met the widowed King Brennan, and is now as we know, Queen Coraline.”

Emma had more questions than ever.

“The child, didn’t in fact pass. In fact, the child has grown up to be a very powerful alchemist. Unfortunately, she has taken after her mother in both ambition and ruthlessness. You see, two months ago, my network, don’t ask who or how, received intel about this elf, about 350 years in age, who had set sights on Irska. Not uncommon, to be fair, except that her brand of alchemy dealt strongly in dangerous arts, poisons and services of revenge, both petty and malicious. This was all hush hush. On the surface, she did plenty of healing art too. But then one of the agents had a hunch, and a good thing too, for he tracked her, got close to her, and found out all that I’ve relayed to you now. Her name is Zelena, beautiful, red haired, and fair skin. She’s already in Irska, and she knows whose daughter she is. What we don’t know is if she’s confronted her mother, or worst, is scheming with Coraline to ingratiate herself for the crown. She’s first born. Then of course, you have Coraline’s own child, Princess Regina, who the crown would most certainly pass to if The 13 instate the Queen as Regent.”

“Oh shit,” said Henry. 

“Henry, language!”

“So if I understand,” Belle said haltingly, “if King Brennan didn’t bequeath the crown to Prince Liam, then The Council of Elders will be called to decide if the crown goes to him or Queen Coraline. If the crown goes to Queen Coraline, then she will later give it to Princess Regina, provided her alleged first born Zelena, doesn’t come in to demand her rights. Did I get it right?”

“Does Regina know about her sister? Or Coraline know about her daughter?”

“Yes,” said Jefferson pointing to Belle, and “No, I don’t think so, and not sure, we don’t know if she’s confronted her,” he said, answering Emma’s questions.

“This is ludicrous, Papa. Is this true?”

“If Zelena is to be believed. But regardless of whether or not Coraline’s past is true - perhaps she herself made up the rumor about Orken for intrigue -  the present remains that the King was, most likely, intentionally disposed. And if so, then it must be because the stars have aligned themselves for some nefarious plan that one, or both of them, are cooking up.”

“Then Killian is in danger. And Liam, and Elsa.” Emma breathed out. “Wait, why the hell haven’t you told anyone this?!?” She demanded, rounding on Jefferson.

He gave her a long hard look. “The ones who have needed to be informed have been. But clearly, they have failed. I don’t know who has been compromised.”

“The Sukrasa?” Belle asked.

“Were aware. It remains to be seen if they failed or were… compromised.”

“But they have a code,” Emma said unthinkingly, remembering that night at the ball.

“Yes, a code,” Jefferson said impatiently, “but morality is separate. It would not be disloyal to follow Queen Coraline’s orders, especially if they didn’t—-“

He stopped, looking like he had just figured something out.

“What?” Emma asked.

“Papa, you’ve lost colour.”

“Belle, I need you to stay here, lock the doors, and keep the children safe. Can I count on you?”

“What is it?” Emma pressed, but he wasn’t looking at her at all.

Henry and Gracie protested immediately, but Belle’s voice was the firmest Emma had ever heard it. “Yes, we won’t move. They will be safe.”

Jefferson turned to her, something blazing in his eyes. “We need to go, now.”

Emma had a million questions, but there was something there that told her she could ask it on the way. She trusted Jefferson, despite the evidence suggesting she shouldn’t. She nodded, and went to Henry, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this drama, kid,” she whispered into his hair.

He laughed, despite the worry she felt radiating from him. “Are you kidding, I’m living in a movie. Just,” he inhaled sharply, “just be safe, mum, please.”

“Of course. I love you,” she said, feeling warm when he responded in kind.

She kissed him on the forehead, touched Gracie’s forearm gently, thanked Belle who waved her off, and went with Jefferson.

The dizzying emotions kept her quiet as she warred with the side of her that screamed I told you so!, I told you he’d be nothing but bad news, which she knew objectively was untrue, but also sort of true - getting mixed up in whatever political intrigue was happening was way above Emma’s comprehension and interest. But she also knew that she’d go to the fiery pits of Anbar for him; she loved him, whether or not she was ready to say it.

She had so many questions that figuring what to ask first kept her quiet, and the urge to just show up to the palace and … punch, or kick or just slap the Queen was making her skin itch. This inaction was making her antsy.

Jefferson too, seemed preoccupied. He was fiddling with his communicator, clearly processing a million different things at once. It wasn’t until they were safely tucked in his pod and their harnesses buckled did Emma speak. So did Jefferson.

“I know you must be wondering—“

“What the hell is going on—“

The pod was moving at full speed; Jefferson was masterfully guiding the craft towards the borders of Alamané on the other side of the river.

“There’s too much to tell you, so here’s what you must know. If, if the Sukrasa are executing orders from the Queen, it means that her actions or promised outcomes are likely to be for the better of the realm.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Maybe so… but she’s smart, and plays the game of politics for more masterfully than the King, or the two princes. One King dying of young age is suspect enough, but two princes? No, they are not in immediate danger - unless they threaten to expose her. How likely is that?”

“If Killian or Liam thinks their father has been murdered—“

“Exactly. Until this moment, the Zelena connection has been tenuous at best. Despite the intel, there was no actual proof, no evidence to suggest the entire story was true. I’ve met both Zelena and Regina; very similar in temperament, both… unpleasant, but  smart. Also quick to anger, and impatient. Where Coraline would play games for centuries, Zelena finds waiting to be strenuous. About 7 minutes ago, confirmation has come through that the King was indeed poisoned.”

“Fuck them,” Emma said, hating the she-elves the more she learned about them. “Of the three, who do we need to worry more about now?”

“Coraline, Zelena, Regina, in that order,” he said, without a moment of hesitation.

“Oh shit,” Jefferson exclaimed suddenly.

“What? What?”

“We’re almost at the border into the Ekilon Forest, where the first checkpoint is.”

Emma had never been there, but she understood.

“Oh,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks unbidden, “I actually… I have right of way.”

“What? How?”

Emma pulled out the chain she never took off, the one that kept Killian’s ring by her skin at all times. She dangled the ring, and the pod swerved slightly to the right as Jefferson reacted to the sight.

The ring Killian had given her was no mere ring. It was delicately crafted, and the official signet ring of Killian Aearinön. At the time, she hadn’t understood the full significance of the gesture, as he’d merely told her that it would allow her to find him, always. Only later had he explained that someone who carried that ring could march right up to the throne room in Irska itself and not be stopped, for it was their right and honor. Each royal had only one to give away, and she had his.

She had wondered if anyone would actually believe that it was a real signet ring. He had licked her cheek, making her laugh and smack him in protest. Then he told her lovingly, that it was made from pure Innenfra which had made her gasp into silence. It was a type of metal that when worn for long periods of time, made elf blood sing, providing harmony to the body. Most elves wore some type of Innenfra, mostly just as a small earring like Jefferson did, as it was rare and terribly expensive. A whole ring was royal indeed.

“Wow,” Jefferson said, “well, that solves one problem at least. Though perhaps not as inconspicuous as I hoped.”

They arrived at the checkpoint, and Emma gave her name, doing her best to remain plain even as she showed them the signet ring. She could see the arch of brow at that, but they did not question her further, allowing their pod to pass through unencumbered. Their mood was not sombre as she thought it would be, they seemed  to be mostly unaffected, as if they hadn’t heard about the death of their king.

“Are these elves loyal to Killian’s family? They don’t seem like they’re mourning.”

“Mourning is what we reserve for the tragic loss, like that of a child. A mother’s death is a warrior’s mourn, for she died in the most noble of battles. And as for King Brennan… no one knows about the murder yet. For that, there shall be anger, and a swift retribution.  But common deaths? Oh, we celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“We live longer lives than you, ah I mean to say, humans, and so we do not fear death as much as humans, only a life left unfulfilled.”

“So, Cora?”

“There’s more questions than answers. But I have a theory if you will, and it goes as follows. Once the King is disposed, the sons must be discredited. Of the two, Prince Killian would be the easiest to lay blame on. If he is found somehow responsible for the death of his father, that casts aspersions to the whole lot of them. Prince William will be expected to sentence Prince Killian to death, which he would not do, mostly because he will not believe his brother to be conspirator, no matter who accuses Killian as the mastermind. Queen Coraline however, as broken hearted as she will appear to be, will of course avenge her husband. Once her mother is in position, Zelena will appear suddenly, taking credit for setting the whole thing up, if she hasn’t already.”

A sudden, sinking feeling settled in Emma stomach. One that had been building since  earlier that day, one that had been growing in the pit of her stomach but she had ignored in favor of other pressing matters.

“This is your best theory?”

They were speeding through Ekilon; she could see the next checkpoint into Irska itself, with its glittering castle not too far in the distance. She needed to play this right.

“I told you, I’ve met Zelena. And Regina.”

“Very well met then, to make such accurate predictions?” She asked more sharply than intended. Cool down, Emma, almost there.

She was looking straight ahead, but she could feel the weight of his stare on her as he glanced her way.

“Enough to know that this is the play she’d make, rather than attack directly.”

“How do you suppose she’s getting information?”

She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, his face remained impassive, though his left hand twitched imperceptibly on the control - she would have missed it if she had blinked.

“Her mother, most likely. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“Right.”

Clearly, she was terrible at subtlety, because Jefferson, for the first time since she’d known him, growled irritated.

“What are you insinuating?”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re not being subtle, Emma!”

“Fine! Are you working for the Queen? Zelena? Or Regina?”

“You have a lot of nerve asking that,” Jefferson said, voice turning dangerous. Emma balled her fists, ready to swing if it came to that.

“Answer the question.”

He huffed, and the pod jerked, accelerating forward faster. He swerved off the main path into a smaller one off to the right, and stopped suddenly at an alcove.

“Jefferson!” Her hand jumped to the handle.

“For fuck’s sake,” he said angrily, “I’m not working for them… anymore.”

“WHAT?”

He had his hands in his hair, gripping it tightly. He looked absolutely mad. Emma had no idea how everything had unravelled so quickly, but she had her balisong in her left hand, ready to be flipped out to become a dangerous blade if needed.

“Look, we really don’t have time for this. But here’s the short of it. I worked for Zelena, before I knew all of her connections. I’m the one who basically… connected the dots of her family line, led her to her mother, so to speak.”

“You said you only found out about her a month ago!”

“I didn’t lie, though there might have been omission,” he admitted.

Emma cursed at him, but he ignored her and went on, “I worked with her on something, unrelated, and we found out her heritage almost by chance. In any case, she wanted me to do…more, threatening Gracie, who was a mere babe at the time; I refused. Needless to say, I disappeared, moved to Alamané. When we found out about an unknown alchemist, and Gr—my partner did digging into it. It’s when pieces started to fall into place. My partner has been very close to Zelena, and we’ve had nothing further to act on since then.”

“Jævla deg,” she cursed at him.

Despite looking frazzled, he laughed. “Prince Killian is teaching you the good stuff, I see.”

“Jefferson, I thought we were…” she faltered, the word friend dying on her lips because they weren’t quite that.

“I mean you no harm, Emma. Truly. But we need to get to the place now. One, to make sure in anger that neither prince jeopardizes their claim to the throne by unwise actions, and two, Zelena is on her way to the castle. She knows something, she had some kind of leverage, and my partner believes he knows what it is.”

“Which is?”

With a deep breath, as if he too were wishing this was true, “The last letter of King Brennan Blåoyne, which states indubitably that he intends for the crown to pass to Prince William. It’s not quite the official bequeathing ceremony per say, but it should be enough to convince The 13 of the will of the king. They would lose face and cast aspersions to their character if they went with Queen Coraline after that, unless of course her reward was more enticing than we could imagine.” He begin moving the pod back in the proper direction of Irska.

“I can imagine an awful lot,” Emma said, annoyed.

“Yes,”  Jefferson agreed, saying nothing more.

The rest of the ride was in silence, as Emma, despite her anxiety, irritation and feelings of betrayal, could not help but be awed as the pod moved into Irska. The forest gave way to a valley, with a clear river flowing off to their right. It was the same side where a tall mountain cliff stood strong, and a thick jet of water sprung from its top, rushing down to the river below.

The architecture was so very different from the clean industrial designs of Alamané. Irska was a city built into nature, with buildings carved into the mountain side, wood, stone and marble; and roads paved to curve around the trees. The energy was ancient, and it showed in the intricacies of design; elves of old had plenty of time to dedicate their lives to a small area of mastery, and so the attention to detail was magnificent, even from the little that she could see.

Damn, Emma thought, no wonder elves are so uptight about preserving this.

Ruby would have been pissed to hear her thoughts, but Emma wasn’t thinking of that.

* * *

The security around the castle was heightened, but The Sukrasa gave her no resistance as she showed Killian’s ring. It wasn’t until she was at the front doors itself was her movement given pause.

The tall elf standing straight near the doors wore a bright white uniform, his skin sun-kissed and his arms muscled. He was a person of authority, and wasn’t used to having it questioned.

“You’re the Lady Emma?” The elf asked. He wasn’t eyeing her with distaste, exactly, but it wasn’t friendly either.

“I don’t know about Lady…but I’m Emma, yes.”

“Vi må se prinsen, voktere,” Jefferson said, giving the elf a short bow.

The elf answered in their language, clearly giving Jefferson a set of strict directions. Emma opened her mouth to ask, but the elf turned to her. “My name is Robin, Kjærlighet.”

“Char-lie-et?”

“It’s the title of royal paramours.”

Emma felt her face heating - being labelled a paramour seemed so clandestine.

“His Highness, Prince Killian has been alerted of your presence. He awaits you. Adel Jefferson, you may —“

“I will accompany Kjærlighet Emma.”

Robin’s face soured. He gave Jefferson a severe look before he said, “If she would allow it.”

“Uh,” Emma said, taken off guard. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him exactly. He couldn’t be trusted for one, especially since he seemed to be keeping everyone on an information diet. But she could often tell when someone was lying, and he wasn’t… she didn’t think he was being malicious. But she wasn’t sure, either.

“Okay, yeah, he can come.”

“As you wish,” Robin said, turning heel with the air of someone who expected they would follow.

So they did.

* * *

When she saw him, she rushed into his arms without even thinking about it.

“Killian!”

“Emma,” Killian laughed in surprise, “it’s only been a couple of hours.”

“A hell couple of hours,” she muttered, to which he agreed by kissing her on the side of her head.

“Highness,” Jefferson said, his tone indicating whatever he had to say was going to be about the matter at hand, “I have some news. Is this a safe place to talk?”

“Is anywhere in this place safe from prying ears? But I reckon Liam is going to want to hear whatever you have to say,” Killian said, his body straightening against hers as if preparing to fight.

They gathered in a small room, with Liam looking troubled and Elsa with a frown marring her features.

“You seem to be a little too informed, lytting” Liam said, watching Jefferson suspiciously after the elf had told them what he had told Emma in the pod. Killian had only just avoided decking him in the face.

Jefferson shrugged, “In any case, that’s the start of it. There were traces of Marjaga in his late highness’ blood.”

A sharp intake was heard, and Liam slammed his hand on the table. The name Jefferson mentioned niggled at a memory, but she couldn’t place it. More importantly, it seemed that they hadn’t known about the king’s cause of death.

“I knew it,” Killian hissed. “Damn snake.” He increased his pacing, looking like a scorpion ready to sting. Emma remained perched where she was, looking away from him as his pacing made her queasy.

Elsa stood up suddenly. “I’ve seen her. I’ve seen her.”

“Who? Zelena?”

“Yes! She’s the healer they sent for Voktere Walsh when he was injured from his fall a few weeks ago. Beautiful redhead, he seemed to forget his pain when she was tending to him.”

“Whose security detail is Voktere Walsh on?” Jefferson asked.

Elsa shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I only saw everything from a distance.” She turned to her husband, asking without words if he did. Liam shook his head.

“Okay, so she’s in the palace. A Sukrara may have a a soft spot for her, making him easily manipulatable. By the time the royal coroner gets the full test, the Marjaga might be undetectable. The 13 should be arriving within the hour to convene.”

“Why should we trust you?” Liam interrupted, his body language reminding Emma of a wild animal about to spring.

“Because I have information, and you have whatever they tell you. And because, it is in my best interests that the throne does not pass to the Queen or her brats.”

Killian and Liam had been looking at each other every time Jefferson let loose another nugget of information, glancing at one another as if able to communicate by eyes alone. Maybe it was a sibling thing.

“I would like to skin her alive. And I’m surprised Killian has shown restraint thus far in not rushing out. But we must not loose our heads or our upper hand. Your partner,” Liam said, getting up and walking to Jefferson, “is he still in position?”

“Yes,” Jefferson confirmed, “though if we want him to… incapacitate Zelena, we would have one shot of it.”

“And what about dear stepmum?” Killian asked, every syllable dripping with venom.

For the first time since Liam had hugged her hello, he smiled. “I took care of that actually. We didn’t want her to be… distraught, see, so I gently suggested to her maiden that she be given strong dose of a magnolia bark, valerian and blue skullcap mixture.”

“What do those do?” Emma asked.

It was Elsa who answered. “Put one in a deep, deep, deep sleep. Oh, and I might have suggested a bit of chloroformius orchids, just to make sure she stays really relaxed.”

Emma stared in Elsa in surprise while Killian let out a whoop and clap. “Well done!”

“So that leaves Zelena and Regina.”

“Regina just left the palace in Snoland about an hour ago, it will take her at least two days to get here.”

“How do you know these things?!” Killian asked Jefferson.

“Can’t you trust that I do?”

“No,” Emma snapped.

“Fine. Your accusation was right, Highness,” he said looking at Liam, “I’m a lytting, though I’m sure when you called me that it was an insult. I served as the second in command to the Master of Whispers in Snoland, before the Snowdrop Wars, under the command of Queen Eva. The networks I built there reached Irska, and many of those relationships are active, even though I no longer serve the house that sits there. As you know, Princess Regina married King Leopold and she’s not who I wished to serve. If she succeeds in bearing him a blood heir since his first daughter’s family was killed in the Snowdrop Wars, and her mother bequeaths her Irska, then they become a powerful line indeed. And I’m not ready for the abuse of power that would follow. There, you now know my motivations, is this enough?”

* * *

As Emma walked to the dais where the dead king lay, she took a moment to reflect the insanity her life had become. She was now dressed in a dark blue dress of Elsa’s that was suitable for the occasion; it was a party after all. Elves left and right were high in spirits, regaling tales of the late king, surely embellishing details about how big the monster was, or how clever the foe.

It seemed Liam and Killian were showing the kind of restraint and strategy she thought went against their very nature, two whirlwinds of emotions now having to temper their anger for the bigger picture. There was a greater plot at play, and Emma wasn’t sure if she wanted to know it all. The Sukrasa Jefferson had warned, the informant in the palace, was no where to be found, suggesting another brand of foul play that may have resulted in the death of the king.

They had sent a trusted maiden to collect all of the Queen’s notes from her study, anything to link her to a plot. Jefferson’s partner was busy collecting and recording indisputable evidence that Zelena was part of it too. Liam had been summoned to The 13’s chambers. It seemed like a great wheel was spinning and the pieces would soon fall, once the blue smoke rose from The 13’s fire which would indicate a chosen ruler.

Emma reached the top of the dais, Killian holding her waist gently.

She stared down at the face of King Brennan, whose face had sunken in from the water loss. He didn’t look like he was sleeping. He looked like he was dead.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost your father,” she said finally.

“I’m more sorry that Liam has to take his throne this way.”

“Killian…”

“He wasn’t much of a father, to be honest. Vengeance will be mine, on his behalf, but I’m more sorry for all the trouble this is causing than anything else. I’m tired, Emma. It’s why I left. The title of a prince means little. We honor it and traditions because without it, elves are little else. Stuck in the past, averse to change. For what? So we can delude ourselves with grandeur and importance? I’ve paid my respects, let’s just go.”

He turned, but Emma stopped. She had just realized something.

“Killian, there’s ink on his hands.”

“What?” He turned back. “That’s not possible, they clean and dress bodies to ensure they keep for the Death Day Celebration.”

“Well, yes, but look at his fingernails. Look at the pad of that finger there.”

King Brennan’s nail bed had ink on them. Dark blue ink that could easily be mistaken as discoloration. There was a tinge of Aurum ink on his right index finger, and on his signet ring. Barely there, but now that she was looking, she could see it.

“You think he was writing the document Jefferson mentioned? The bequeathing letter? A bit much as coincidences go, don’t you think?”

There were whispering to each other, but Emma felt the hair of her neck stand at the implications of this discovery. “But what if it wasn’t? What if that’s the reason he was poisoned?”

“We’ve got to go find Liam and search father’s study, let’s go.”

* * *

Their search turned up nothing, but the whole thing was for naught. Because, too quickly, though a day had since passed, a blue fire rose into the night sky.

It happened just as Emma shut off the communicator, having been assured that Henry and Gracie were fine.

Jefferson moved to stand next to her, as Killian gripped her waist. The late king was to be interred in a few hours. Hhe had professed to her that he wished to just go home after that and lay in bed with her and forget the world for a while. Perhaps his father’s death and the plots surrounding it had affected him more than he care to let on, but he wasn’t talking to Emma about it, and as much as she wanted him to, she knew she had to give him space.

After all, she was aware enough to know that she’d have demanded the same.

The elves of court moved into the hall, with Liam and Elsa leading the front. The air was markedly more solemn than it had been earlier where King Brennan lay, but Emma had since given up understanding elven culture. She’d leave that to Henry.

An ancient elf stood; he looked like he had been left in the sun too long. His skin was weathered, voice deep and coarse. He might have been the oldest elf she’d ever seen.

“Sem Artur Pendrégon in sluzim Svetu starejsih. Var første og helligste plikt er abeskytte alvene, alvenes frihet og var guddommelighet. Felly mae wedi bod. Ac felly y bydd.”

“Felly mae wedi bod. Ac felly y bydd,” the elves repeated.

She looked up at Killian inquiringly. He was holding her so close to his body that every exhalation blew her hair to her cheek.

When he whispered the translation, her body reacted, suddenly very aware of the close proximity of her… of him.

“I am Arthurus Pendrégon, and I serve the Council of Elders. Our first and most sacred duty is to protect the way of life of elves, the liberty of elves, and our divinity. So it has been. And so it will be.”

But Arthurus was already speaking.

“Danes ne bomo stali na hitro ali slovesno. Razmislili smo, kaj je najboljše za irsko kraljestvo in kraljestvo vilinov, kot ga imamo vedno. Krona ni narejena samo iz dragocenih draguljev in kamnov, niti iz auruma in srebra. Krona je narejena iz discipline, pravičnosti, poguma in hrabrosti. Kraljeve linije so izbrane tako, da služijo ljudem, in tega ne smejo pozabiti nikoli tisti, ki služijo, in tisti, ki jim je služeno. Svet starejših se spominja in ohranja tradicije vilinov že od nekdaj, in to bomo storili, dokler ne bo stal zadnji vilin. In zato smo danes sklicali sem, da bi izbrali naslednjo Irska krono.”

“We will not stand on prompt nor ceremony for today. We have considered what is best for the kingdom of Irska, and the realm of elves, as we always have. A crown is not made of just precious gems and stones, nor of aurum and silver. A crown is made of  discipline, justice, courage and valor. The royal lines are chosen to serve the people,    and this should never be forgotten by those who serve and those who are served. The Council of Elders remembers and conserves the elven traditions from time immemorial, and we shall do so until the last elf stands. And for this, today, we have convened here to choose the next crown of Irska,” Killian said, translating to his best ability as Arthurus spoke. The words spoken were solemn, and they made Emma feel like she was now apart of something bigger. It was silly, but the atmosphere in the room of the noble elves, the grandeur of the hall and the way Arthurus voice reverberated made her forget she ever lived on the streets as an unwensket.

“Vi har ogsa mottatt det siste skrevne ordet om Hans Oppstegne Højhet, King Brennan, som overlot sin krone til et valgt individ.”

Killian stiffened, as did Jefferson beside her.

“What?” She asked.

“My father must have… I don’t know how, but they got it. The letter.”

“She’s here,” Jefferson hissed.

“What? Who?”

“Zelena is here, corner of the room to your left, in the dark green hood.”

Arthurus’s voice increased in volume. “Vi fant ingen alver mer egnet for dette. Vi fant ingen alver som ville hedre kronen like mye som Prins William Beriothien. Mine edle alver, jeg presenterer deg, din neste kral, Kral William Beriothien.”

Emma didn’t need a translation for that last bit.

“They chose him! Their plots were in vain!” Jefferson uttered, looking as though someone had slapped him.

Killian let out a giant breath of relief, as Liam, walked up to Arthurus, looking perfectly poised. Emma could see it, the way his eyes scanned the elves in attendance, the fire in his eyes that many would mistake for relief or joy. There would be retribution, but it would come so fast and swift his enemies would have no way to escape it. He was reciting some words of acceptance, looking very kingly indeed, but Emma’s attention was focused on Zelena.

Underneath the green hood there was a shock of red hair, and beside her, a tall elf which chiseled features spoke quietly into her ear. Emma guessed that to be Jefferson’s partner. Before Killian, he’d be exactly her type. His hair was reddish brown and curly. He had broad shoulders and wore a light brown tunic that highlighted it well. He must have felt her gaze, for as he turned to look at her questioningly, his curiosity blossomed into a smirk. Emma looked away quickly, embarrassed at being distracted, and fervently hoping Killian hadn’t noticed.

“That’s Graham,” Jefferson said suddenly, giving her a fright. He was speaking very softly, and while Killian’s attention was devoted to his brother, she knew he was listening.

“The partner?”

“The partner. I’m not sure what happened today. Truly. But perhaps, the His Ascended Highness was more crafty than we thought, more prepared than we anticipated. Perhaps we should never discount basic preparation compared to complicated plots.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh no. Definitely not. But with King William at the helm now, the Queen now Dowager, with significantly less hold, it will be easy to usher her away to Snoland, where she can be their problem. And Zelena will likely follow. And in the mean time, a way for justice to be served can be found.”

“And it will be,” Killian said, though his eyes were still on his brother. His hands however, were secure around her, and his heart in tandem with hers. It was time to go home.  

#cs ff #cs au #cs recognition #recognition #rouhn #kmomof4 #teamhook

[moonlightmurder]

Favorite True Crime Books – part 1

The Peyton-Allan Files by Phil Stanford : Two teenagers, making out one night in a car on the edge of town ― slaughtered by person or persons unknown. No physical evidence to speak of. No known motive. For all the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office knows, there’s a psychotic killer roaming the hills west of town. Until they arrest someone for the murders of Larry Peyton and Beverly Allan, no one will rest easy. The Peyton-Allan Files is the story of the savage double-murder that changed life forever in the deceptively peaceful town of Portland, Oregon. A true-life murder mystery, guaranteed to keep you turning pages till the last guilty party has been brought to justice ― or maybe just framed. Because one way or another, this case has got to be solved.

House of Evil: The Indiana Torture Slaying by John Dean : In the heart of Indianapolis in the mid 1960’s, through a twist of fate and fortune, a pretty young girl came to live with a thirty-seven-year-old mother and her seven children. What began as a temporary childcare arrangement between Sylvia Likens’s parents and Gertrude Baniszewski turned into a crime that would haunt cops, prosecutors, and a community for decades to come…

When police found Sylvia’s emaciated body, with a chilling message carved into her flesh, they knew that she had suffered tremendously before her death. Soon they would learn how many others―including some of Baniszewski’s own children―participated in Sylvia’s murder, and just how much torture had been inflicted in one house of evil.

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote : On November 15, 1959, in the small town of Holcomb, Kansas, four members of the Clutter family were savagely murdered by blasts from a shotgun held a few inches from their faces. There was no apparent motive for the crime, and there were almost no clues.

As Truman Capote reconstructs the murder and the investigation that led to the capture, trial, and execution of the killers, he generates both mesmerizing suspense and astonishing empathy. In Cold Blood is a work that transcends its moment, yielding poignant insights into the nature of American violence.

Bind, Torture, Kill : The Inside Story of BTK by Roy Wenzl, Tim Potter, Hurst Lavigne and L. Kelly: For thirty-one years, a monster terrorized the residents of Wichita, Kansas. A bloodthirsty serial killer, self-named “BTK”—for “bind them, torture them, kill them”—he slaughtered men, women, and children alike, eluding the police for decades while bragging of his grisly exploits to the media. The nation was shocked when the fiend who was finally apprehended turned out to be Dennis Rader—a friendly neighbor … a devoted husband … a helpful Boy Scout dad … the respected president of his church.

Written by four award-winning crime reporters who covered the story for more than twenty years,Bind, Torture, Kill is the most intimate and complete account of the BTK nightmare told by the people who were there from the beginning. With newly released documents, evidence, and information—and with the full cooperation, for the very first time, of the Wichita Police Department’s BTK Task Force—the authors have put all the pieces of the grisly puzzle into place, thanks to their unparalleled access to the families of the killer and his victims.

The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple by Jeff Guinn: In the 1950s, a young Indianapolis minister named Jim Jones preached a curious blend of the gospel and Marxism. His congregation was racially mixed, and he was a leader in the early civil rights movement. Eventually, Jones moved his church, Peoples Temple, to northern California, where he got involved in electoral politics and became a prominent Bay Area leader. But underneath the surface lurked a terrible darkness.

In this riveting narrative, Jeff Guinn examines Jones’s life, from his early days as an idealistic minister to a secret life of extramarital affairs, drug use, and fraudulent faith healing, before the fateful decision to move almost a thousand of his followers to a settlement in the jungles of Guyana in South America. Guinn provides stunning new details of the events leading to the fatal day in November, 1978 when more than nine hundred people died—including almost three hundred infants and children—after being ordered to swallow a cyanide-laced drink.

Guinn examined thousands of pages of FBI files on the case, including material released during the course of his research. He traveled to Jones’s Indiana hometown, where he spoke to people never previously interviewed, and uncovered fresh information from Jonestown survivors. He even visited the Jonestown site with the same pilot who flew there the day that Congressman Leo Ryan was murdered on Jones’s orders. The Road to Jonestown is “the most complete picture to date of this tragic saga, and of the man who engineered it…The result is a disturbing portrait of evil—and a compassionate memorial to those taken in by Jones’s malign charisma”

Nothing Is Strange with You: The Life and Crimes of Gordon Stewart Northcott by James Jeffrey Paul: A young man kidnaps his own nephew and makes him his servant and sex slave. He abducts young boys, has his way with them, and, if they know too much, kills them. He forces his nephew to participate in his crimes and to consign these little victims, sometimes still living, to their graves.

His father is afraid of his own son. His son mocks and abuses him, falsely accuses him of incest and child abuseand still he supports his son.

His mother loves her boy and will do anything to help himeven commit murder.

The Gordon Stewart Northcott casea part of which is fictionalized in the major new Clint Eastwood film CHANGELING, starring Angelina Jolieis still, eight decades later, one of the most nightmarish in American criminal annals. This booknearly two decades in the research and writingtells the whole story for the first time.

Fred & Rose: The Full Story of Fred and Rose West and the Gloucester House of Horrors by Howard Sounes: During their long relationship, the Wests murdered a series of young women, burying the remains of nine victims under their home at 25 Cromwell Street, Gloucester, including those of their daughter. What was left of Fred West’s eight-year-old stepdaughter was dug up from under the Wests’ previous Gloucester home; his first wife and nanny were buried in open country. Most victims had been decapitated and dismembered, their remains showing signs of sexual torture. These twelve are just the ones police found when the Wests were arrested in 1994. There may be more whose bones have not been located . . .

Howard Sounes broke the first major story about the Wests as a journalist, and covered the murder trial of Rosemary West, before writing Fred & Rose, the definitive account of this infamous case. Beginning with Fred’s and Rose’s bizarre childhoods, Sounes charts their lives and crimes in forensic detail, creating a fascinating and truly frightening account of a marriage soaked in blood.

The Blood of Emmett Till by Timothy B. Tyson: In 1955, white men in the Mississippi Delta lynched a fourteen-year-old from Chicago named Emmett Till. His murder was part of a wave of white terrorism in the wake of the 1954 Supreme Court decision that declared public school segregation unconstitutional. Only weeks later, Rosa Parks thought about young Emmett as she refused to move to the back of a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama. Five years later, Black students who called themselves “the Emmett Till generation” launched sit-in campaigns that turned the struggle for civil rights into a mass movement. Till’s lynching became the most notorious hate crime in American history.

But what actually happened to Emmett Till—not the icon of injustice, but the flesh-and-blood boy? Part detective story, part political history, The Blood of Emmett Till “unfolds like a movie” (The Atlanta Journal-Constitution), drawing on a wealth of new evidence, including a shocking admission of Till’s innocence from the woman in whose name he was killed. “Jolting and powerful” (The Washington Post), the book “provides fresh insight into the way race has informed and deformed our democratic institutions” (Diane McWhorter, Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Carry Me Home) and “calls us to the cause of justice today” (Rev. Dr. William J. Barber, II, president of the North Carolina NAACP).

In Broad Daylight by Harry N. MacLean: Ken Rex McElroy terrorized the residents of several counties in northwestern Missouri for a score of years. He raped young girls and brutalized them after they went to live with him or even married him; he shot at least two men; he stole cattle and hogs, and burned down the houses of some who interfered with his criminal activities. Thanks to the expert efforts of his lawyer and the pro-defendant bias of state laws, he served no more than a few days in jail, the author shows. In 1981, sentenced for the shooting of a popular grocer and free on bail, he was killed by the men of Skidmore, the center of his felonies; they closed ranks against all attempts to identify those who had pulled the triggers. Written by a first-time author, this is an engrossing, credible examination of the way vigilante action can take over when the law appears to be powerless. BOMC and QPBC alternates.

Killer Clown by Terry Sullivan: He was a model citizen. A hospital volunteer. And one of the most sadistic serial killers of all time. But few people could see the cruel monster beneath the colorful clown makeup that John Gacy wore to entertain children in his Chicago suburb. Few could imagine what lay buried beneath his house of horrors–until a teenaged boy disappeared before Christmas in 1978, leading prosecutor Terry Sullivan on the greatest manhunt of his career.

Reconstructing the investigation–from records of violence in Gacy’s past, to the gruesome discovery of 29 corpses of abused boys in Gacy’s crawlspace and four others found in the nearby river–Sullivan’s shocking eyewitness account takes you where few true crime books ever go: inside the heart of a serial murder investigation and trial.

Inside Alcatraz: My Time on the Rock by Jim Quillen: Jim Quillen, AZ586 – a runaway, problem child and petty thief – was jailed several times before his twentieth birthday. In August 1942, after escaping from San Quentin, he was arrested on the run and sentenced to forty-five years in prison, and later transferred to Alcatraz.

This is the true story of life inside America’s most notorious prison – from terrifying times in solitary confinement to daily encounters with ‘the Birdman’, and what really happened during the desperate and deadly 1946 escape attempt.

Go Down Together: The True, Untold Story of Bonnie and Clyde by Jeff Guinn: Forget everything you think you know about Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker. Previous books and films, including the brilliant 1967 movie starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, have emphasized the supposed glamour of America’s most notorious criminal couple, thus contributing to ongoing mythology. The real story is completely different — and far more fascinating.

#true crime #tcoriginal #true crime research #true crime books #my posts

[therainroguefanfiction]

⍚ HaikWeek!! 2020 ⍚ Day 4 (Kuroo & Kenma) Best Friends

📑 Table of Contents | « Previous Day

Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Slice of Life, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3,225

Pairing: Kuroo, Foreign Reader, Kenma

World: Haikyuu!!

Prompt: Favorite Pair/Duo + Childhood Friends  

Author’s Note: Here is the next entry for @haikyuuweek2020​~ Huge shoutout to @lanaaize​ for informing me that Kenma was seven and Kuroo was eight when they first met! I wasn’t sure of this information since the wiki just says “when they were kids” and I was thinking seven but a friend was thinking five, so I was originally gonna go with six!

━━━━━━༻⍚ 🏐 HaikWeek!! 2020 🏐 ⍚༺━━━━━━

Being the new kid was never an easy task, but it seemed even worse when you came from a foreign country. Everyone knew you were different – they could tell from the way you looked and the way you talked. You were just a kid and, while you were doing your best to learn Japanese, you were clearly a beginner.

The other kids tried to interact with you but you shied away from them because people made you uncomfortable and because you couldn’t understand what they were saying. Even when they purposely talked slow, practically screaming into your ear, you only caught a word or two. The lessons were also hard because you struggled to understand what the teacher was saying.

All of this led to you being fairly isolated in your new home. You had no friends, which you weren’t too fussed about, but learning the language was hard. Even if you didn’t want to interact with others, you still wanted to be able to understand what they were saying. Without friends to hang out with, you had more time to study the language and to read your favorite books.

The teacher was concerned about you, though, constantly trying to include you and encouraged you to interact with the other kids. You weren’t alone, though, she did the exact same thing to another kid in your class, a boy named Kozume Kenma. This boy had black hair that stopped at his chin, bangs straddling his eyes like a curtain, those cat-like golden eyes that were always observing.

He was a quiet boy, always keeping to himself and playing on his portable gaming console. After months of trying to get the two of you to participate with the rest of the class, she finally gave up, much to the relief of the two of you.

The first time you interacted with Kenma was when the teacher paired the both of you for an assignment one day. It was fairly simple – both of you had to choose a subject and then draw what the other person chose. You ended up choosing a library while he chose a gaming console.

Neither of you had much talent when it came to drawing and the items you had drawn didn’t even resemble what it was supposed to. You had both tried so hard at it, too, but the scribbled mess had you both giggling. For the first time, Kenma had found someone that he felt comfortable around.

After that, the two of you started to spend time together. You wouldn’t classify each other as friends, but you certainly felt comfortable in each other’s presence. There was no need to talk between the two of you – he would sit and play his game while you sat and read. Things were peaceful and the two of you were content.

“Class, please welcome Kuroo Tetsuroo! He’s just moved here, please treat him kindly,” Aiko-sensei smiled kindly, her hand on the boy’s shoulder.

You tilted your head as you observed the boy. His hair was as black as night, sticking up in multiple directions like a bunch of weeds, and his eyes were a beautiful shade of dark brown. He was fidgeting beside the teacher, his cheeks a soft pink as his eyes settled on the ground.

Honestly, you felt for him, really. Just a few months ago you were that awkward kid at the front, everyone’s eyes on you. It certainly wasn’t a fond memory and you felt bad that he was going through it, as well. You wanted to reach out to him, to let him know that it got easier, but you were far too shy to do so.

The first week that he was at school, he did better than you in the respect that he could actually speak with the other kids, but his replies were short and soft-spoken. You often found yourself observing him, too scared to approach him yourself so watching him was enough. Even if you did have the courage to approach him, you doubted he would understand your broken Japanese.

It was recess and you and Kenma had been forced outside, leaving the two of you to curl up in the shade of a nearby tree, shoulders resting against one another. He was playing on his game system, some fighting game that you had tried and failed at, while you were reading a book about witches and wizards that he found boring. It was just another day for the two of you, until Kuroo slowly approached, his hands clasped behind his back and eyes trained on the system in Kenma’s hands.

“Hello,” he called out softly, shifting his weight. “Whatcha playing?”

Kenma glanced up, debating on whether he should ignore the boy or not but, finally, he answered. “Kombat of Mortals III.”

Kuroo’s eyes lit up. “I love that game! I have it at home, it’s lots of fun.”

“Yeah…”

The ravenette squatted down in front of you both. “My name’s Kuroo Tetsuroo. What’s yours?”

“…Kozume Kenma.”

“Nice to meet you, Kenma-san!” Kuroo looked at you expectantly and you bit your lip, eyes shooting to Kenma who sighed in frustration.

“This is L/N Y/N.”

He smiled at you softly, “Nice to meet you, Y/N-san!”

You nodded, managing out a “You too,” in broken Japanese.

He tilted his head, observing you for a moment before settling down across from you, a kind smile on his face. When he spoke this time, he was speaking in heavily accented English. “Do you speak English?”

Your eyes lit up and you nodded frantically, closing your book to give him your attention. “Yes, I do!”

“I can help you with your Japanese if you want.”

“I-If you don’t mind,” you smiled shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d like that.”

Something changed for the three of you that day, shaping the future to properly handle the three of you together. It wasn’t long before the three of you became inseparable.

Something that Kuroo loved to do was play volleyball. It made him happy like Kenma’s games or your books, but it was a sport that simply couldn’t be played alone. Because of this, you encouraged him to join the school’s volleyball club which he did without hesitation. While he still made time for the two of you, he spent a lot of time with the club.

Kenma wasn’t really bothered by this, but you were. What if he found new friends and left the two of you behind? He had become an important person in your life and the main reason you had advanced so well in learning Japanese. You couldn’t imagine your life without him in it, or without Kenma. They were your best friends, your only friends.

When you brought this up to Kenma, he told you that you were worrying for nothing. Kuroo wasn’t the type to just abandon his friends because they didn’t share his interests. You still worried, though, because that was what you did best.

You weren’t sure if Kenma had relayed this information to him, but Kuroo started to try and get the two of you to play with him by teaching you the basics of the game. You tried desperately to enjoy it, but you had no athleticism in your body. You hated the experience, but you plastered on a fake smile and never complained.

Kenma also didn’t enjoy the experience, but he was much more vocal about it, constantly complaining about how it was too much effort and he didn’t like how tired it made him feel. Despite this, the three of you continued to play volleyball together, well into your middle school years.

Kuroo convinced the two of you to try out for the team.

It was frustrating for you, really. Kenma didn’t try at all, yet he was so good at the game, able to read the slightest movements of those around him. They happily accepted him onto the team which he was visibly unhappy about. Meanwhile, you did your absolute best to keep up but you didn’t have Kenma’s observational skills or Kuroo’s intelligence and athleticism.

While they weren’t allowed to turn students away who wanted on the team, the captain did ask you if you wanted to be their manager instead. It was obvious to you that you were terrible at the game and stood no chance of standing on the same court as your two best friends. You had heard the older kids snickering behind your back at how bad you were.

In the end, you decided not to join the team.

Kuroo was sad by this and he asked multiple times if you were sure about the decision, but you assured him that you had given it a lot of thought. Sports just weren’t for you, you’d rather be reading and learning instead of running around chasing a ball. Kuroo accepted this answer, but Kenma knew better. He could see it in the way you were subtly pulling away from them.

Although Kenma wasn’t really one to confront people, he knew he had to in this case. He skipped practice one afternoon, heading to the roof where he knew you liked to hide and read.

You were surprised to find him there, knowing that he was supposed to be at practice. “Ken-chan? What’s wrong?”

He settled down across from you, scooting closer until his knees bumped against your own. His chin was propped up against his palm, eyes scanning yours. “Why are you pulling away from us?”

“Eh?” you quickly flicked your gaze back to the book in your lap, hoping that if you didn’t look in his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to read you. That was a pipe dream, of course. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You think we’re going to leave you,” he stated, pausing to observe your expression. “So you’re pulling away from us slowly thinking we won’t notice. You think it will hurt less if you’re the one that pulls away.”

You lowered your head in shame, slowly nodding. “I’m sorry, Kenma. I just…”

“You’re negative like me,” he shifted closer, settling down beside you until his shoulder bumped yours. His head tilted back to look up at the blue sky, squinting at how bright it was. “You’re my best friend, though, so you won’t be losing me anytime soon. I don’t like speaking for others, but I’m sure Kuroo feels the same.”

“Feels the same about what?”

Both of you snapped your heads toward the roof entrance where Kuroo stood, panting softly as he wiped sweat from him chin, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the two of you. Kenma exchanged a look with you before nudging you in the side, a silent sign to tell him how you were feeling.

Taking a deep breath, you explained your feelings to them, putting your heart onto your sleeve. “I love you both so much, you’re my best friends, my only friends but… I’m scared that you’re going to leave me behind. I tried so hard to get better at volleyball but I’m just not good at it and I don’t enjoy it. You seem so happy out there, Kuroo. And even you do sometimes, Ken. I didn’t mean to but… I guess somewhere deep down I thought it would be easier on me if I pulled away from you instead of waiting for you to leave me…”

Kuroo frowned, squatting down in front of you just as he had the day you had first spoken, and he took your hands into his own. “You and Kenma are my best friends! How could you think I’d ever abandon you? No matter what happens, I will always be by your side! You too, Kenma!”

Kenma jumped, nose wrinkling. “Why are you including me?”

“You’re part of this, too!” Kuroo grinned, dropping one of your hands so he could take one of Kenma’s. “No matter what, the three of us will be together forever. That’s a promise!”

“You… you really mean it?” you questioned softly, feeling tears sting at your eyes.

“Yup!”

Using your free hand, you scrubbed at your eyes to get rid of the tears, smiling brightly. “Thank you, Kuroo!”

“You can use my first name, you know,” he stuck his tongue out, poking you in the side.

“Tetsuroo,” you tested his name before nodding. “I like it!”

He giggled, throwing himself forward with one arm around each of you. “My best friends~”

You returned the hug without hesitation, rubbing your cheek against his while reaching out your hand to take hold of Kenma’s. “My best friends!”

Kenma sighed, not into the overly sappy expressions of love but he eventually gripped your hand, free hand lightly patting the older boy on the back.

The house was silent, the lights turned off to blanket the living room in darkness. Everyone was waiting with bated breath for the teenager to return home – his family, his volleyball team, and, of course, you and Kenma. The two of you were at the back of the room, sharing the large charge sitting in the corner and holding party poppers.

Today was Kuroo’s birthday and he would be returning home from a shopping trip with his grandmother any moment now. The cake sat on the table, the candles just waiting to be lit. Surrounding it was several plates of grilled salted mackerel, his favorite dish.

The front door clicked as the handle was turned and everyone held their breath, preparing to jump out at him as soon as he stepped through the door. His tall silhouette appeared in the doorway, followed by his confused voice. “Why are the lights off?”

On cue, his mother flicked the lights on and everyone chorused, “Happy birthday, Tetsuroo/Kuroo!!”

His wide eyes scanned the room, feeling his heart jump within his chest at the sudden screaming. His face heated up, brow furrowing as he tried not to cry at how happy he felt to be surrounded by his friends and family. After hugging his parents and grandparents, he headed straight for the two of you.

You jumped off the chair, throwing your arms around his waist. “Happy birthday, Tetsu!”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he pecked your cheek before smiling at Kenma.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Kenma. Come on, it’s time for cake!”

“Aren’t we supposed to eat the food first?” Kenma’s brow furrowed as the older boy tugged him toward the table.

“That’s no fun!” Kuroo grinned in reply, watching his mother lighting the candles.

“Make a wish, darling,” she spoke softly, resting her hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, closing his eyes. He could feel the warmth of you on his right and the warmth of Kenma on his left and he couldn’t help smiling. He knew exactly what he wanted to wish for. ‘I hope we stay best friends forever, even when we’re old and wrinkly.’

Sucking in a breath, he blew as hard as he could, extinguishing the flames in one go. Everyone cheered him on before his mother handed him a knife to cut the cake with and he cut a large slice, sliding it onto the plate she offered him. He then stepped backward, holding the plate between the three of you.

His mother handed the three of you a fork each and, together, you took a bite of the delicious cake his mother had made. The rest of the afternoon was spent with the two of you, though he didn’t ignore his other guests, he just forced you both to follow him as he thanked them for coming and caught up with them.

After opening his presents, minus the ones that you and Kenma had gotten him, and saying goodbye to the group, he asked his mother if the two of you could spend the night. She forced you both to contact your parents who gave the okay and the three of you headed up to his room, the presents tucked under his arm.

Kuroo plopped onto his bed, setting the two boxes in front of him before tapping his chin. “Which one should I open first?”

Feeling a bit nervous about your gift, you decided to put Kenma in the spotlight first. “Open Ken’s!”

Kuroo snapped his fingers, giving you a grin. “Okay~ I’ll open yours first, then, Y/N.”

You pouted as you crawled onto the bed, settling down across from him. “Cheater~!”

He snickered, tugging at the ribbon that you had tied around the box. Your heart raced as he tugged off the lid, pushing aside the tissue paper before pulling out the necklace inside. The chain was a thin black rope, holding a black cat with golden eyes. Held between its tail and its back was an amber gem in the shape of a volleyball.

You rubbed the back of your neck, feeling the tips of your ears heating up. “It’s, umm… it’s not much but I saw it and thought of you…”

Kuroo’s expression softened as he unclipped it before placing it around his neck. It hung down just beneath his collar bone, settled in the center of his chest, the metal cold against his skin. He smiled softly as his fingers brushed over the pendant. “I love it, thank you so much, Y/N.”

Pride swelled within you and you nodded cheerfully. “You’re welcome!”

“Okay, your turn, Kenma!” Kuroo grinned, grabbing the larger box and pulling the lid from it. “No way! You got me a Mikasa volleyball!”

Kenma nodded, scratching at his cheek. “You said they were your favorite…”

“Aww, you remembered.”

“You said it every single day for the past two months…”

Kuroo ignored that comment, reaching for his laptop. “How about we spend the rest of the night watching movies?”

“Ooo, can we watch horror?” you questioned, eyes gleaming.

Kenma’s nose wrinkled at you. “I vote for anime.”

“Horror anime?”

“Shounen.”

“Eh~ that’s no fun,” you pouted.

Kuroo laughed loudly, sounding more like a hyena than a teenage boy. “We can watch both!”

You stifled a yawn as you stepped out of your house, finding Kuroo and Kenma waiting outside for you, just as they did every morning. Your mood instantly brightened upon seeing them and the tiredness you were feeling seemed to melt away. With a smile, you ran over to them, throwing your arms around their bodies.

“Morning, guys!”

“Good morning, darling!” Kuroo pecked your cheek before ruffling your hair, laughing when you swatted at his hand.

“Morning,” Kenma glanced up at you before turning his gaze back to the gaming console in his hands.

You threw your arm around his shoulder and Kuroo took up your other side, his hand slipping into yours. To outside parties, it may seem like you were dating one, or both, of them, but that’s because they didn’t understand the bond that the three of you shared. There was a strong love between you three that couldn’t be expressed with words and that was fine.

From the very beginning, you didn’t need words to enjoy one another’s company or to express how deeply you cared for each other.  You smiled happily as you turned your gaze to the rising sun, tightening your grip on the two boys. Life just seemed so much brighter with these two by your side and they felt the exact same way.

━━━━━━༻⍚ 🏐 HaikWeek!! 2020 🏐 ⍚༺━━━━━━

» Next Day

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

#haikyuuweek2020 #haikweek!! 2020 #haikyuu week #haikyuu week 2020 #kozume kenma #kuroo tetsuroo #anime #writing #creative writing #writeblr #scenario #scenarios #anime scenarios #anime scenario #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #anime fanfic #anime fanfics #reader insert #reader-insert #reader #one shot #fluff #friendship #slice of life #angst

[zabdielsdejesus]

PLOT : alright so this is a mix between a dream i had right when the picture of criminal zabdi came out, incorporated with my imagination and the help of @esmeraldabitxh So basically the story is the reader is a lawyer who has to represent her ex boyfriend : criminal zabdi, while she’s engaged with another man.

WARNINGS: smut, criminal zabdi, and infidelity etc

Your heels echoed through the dark alley, the sound of keys dangling from your fiancé’s pockets joining the cold rhythm. Your heart started beating faster while you both walked into the endless hallway, your man leading you to cell 303. Freshly graduated from criminal law studies, this was going to be your second case. The first case involved a drug dealer who lived for eight months in this same prison. It was actually how you met your soon-to-be husband. As a prison guard, he had walked you to the cell of your first client and it was love at first sight. You never really believed in love at first sight before he came along, a spark occurred between you two and you couldn’t quite explain how. However, like every relationship, you had your issues. It was a beautiful yet turbulent relationship. 

“You seem nervous. I’ve never seen you like this before. I know you’re gonna nail it, don’t worry baby,” your fiancé reassured you.

Funny coming from someone who told you the night before that you shouldn’t represent this client because he didn’t deserve to get out of jail. Ever.

However, what he did not know was the reason why you were so nervous. It wasn’t because this was only your second case. But because the man you were about to represent was once your boyfriend.

Zabdiel De Jesus.

Your eyes opened wide, shock washing over your face when you first saw his mugshot and name as your boss introduced you to your future client’s file.

Early on in your studies, you and him were inseparable. But the kind and caring man soon hung out with the wrong crowd. He’d come back home in the middle of the night, stacks of dollar bills in the pockets of his bomber jacket without a single reasonable answer to give you. You never knew what he was actually doing. All you knew was that he dropped out of college and made too much money for it to be clean money. Everyday, he was on edge, Everyday, you would argue over his new lifestyle. 

“If you go on like this, you’re going to end up in jail!” you used to yell at him. But he wouldn’t listen.

Three years later, you were about to represent him. 

“Thank you babe,” you smiled at your fiancé before you opened the beige folder you carried in your hands. It contained everything about Zabdiel : name, birthdate, birthplace, current address, mugshots, finger prints, criminal records. 

Drug dealing, armed robbery, aggravated assault with gang affiliation.

You remembered the first time your eyes read these words. Shock electrified every nerve ending in your body. This wasn’t the Zabdiel you used to know. But he sure was the one you were afraid he would become.

A sigh escaped your pink lips as you came to a halt, facing a dark cell. You couldn’t distinguish much apart from a silhouette sitting on a thin bed. 

“That’s the one,” your fiancé said as he began to open the cell. The metal bars harshly hit the grey wall as you both stood in silence.

“I’ll take it from here baby, don’t worry,” you said before you placed a light peck on his lips and straightened your pencil skirt.

The man’s dark boots led him back into the end of the hallway as you finally entered the opened cell.

“Hello Mr De Jesus,” you politely said, your tongue not used to call him this way. The context forced this choice of words. 

Swiftly, the tall man rose from his bed, brown eyes landing on you. He could recognize this voice among millions. It was hard to take in his features in the dim light but as he approached you, you noticed the ink on his body. Ink that he did not have back then. They seemed to be everywhere, neck, chest, hands.. It surely fit the image you pictured of a criminal with his record. He looked much more intimidating than you were accustomed to. Breathlessly intimidating.

You swallowed heavily, your manicured fingers carefully holding your folder against your chest. Maybe that way he wouldn’t see or hear how hard your heart was beating.

No words escaped his lips. So you continued.

“I am here to represent you.”

He sarcastically chuckled. 

Who would’ve known you both would end up here? Him being a criminal while you were representing him in court. Certainly not him. You clearly had your life together. Always the good girl since the first day you met each other. Your ambitions pushed you to become the person you are today. Him, on the other hand, followed a different path. While it started like yours — studying in the same university as you, his desire to earn easy money led him to a dark path. Losing you confirmed his downward spiral and soon dealing drugs turned into affiliation with a dangerous organized crime group. He had nothing to lose anymore.  

Crimes offered him an adrenaline rush he was addicted to. He felt like he was on top of the world while his heart hit rock bottom after losing you.

“Who is he?” he questioned. The first thing he had heard when you approached the cell was the term of endearment towards your fiancé and his jealousy suddenly sparked after three years of absence.

“I heard your previous lawyers dropped you,” you ignored his question as you opened your folder and ran the tips of your nails along the paper and started reading the comments the lawyers left on Zabdiel. 

“Impossible to work with, Mr De Jesus clearly does not want to be represented or defended in court. He vacillates between a feeling of god-like omnipotence and a sense that he simply doesn’t exist, which of course is intolerable. I believe Mr De Jesus’ behavior is driven by what we might call a risk addiction. A compulsive need to prove to himself that he can take risks and survive dangers that other people ca—.” 

A gasp escaped your lips as he grabbed the file and threw it on the floor, crudely interrupting your reading.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t give a fuck what they’re saying about me,” he spat as he towered over you. “I asked a question.”

With a roll of your eyes, you held out your left hand, showing off your diamond engagement ring. “That’s what he is.”

Pure jealousy overwhelmed his body as a sudden need to remind you how much of a good lover he was, rushed through his veins. Zabdiel knew he was the reason why your relationship didn’t last. His bad decisions turned a beautiful relationship into a black hole. And selfishly, he wanted to make another bad decision in order to ruin the current relationship you had with your fiancé.

He took a step forward as you took a step back until your back hit the cold wall. Your gaze met his, unable to tell what his next move was. He seemed so enigmatic and hard to read.

His hand gently brushed against your soft hair as he towered over you. He made you feel so small even with your high heels. 

“A prison guard...” he started, judgement lacing his words as his hand moved down to the collar of your blouse. You were speechless, unable to say anything or react to his smooth moves. “You deserve better than a prison guard,” he whispered as his gaze bore into yours.

Shivers ran down your spine, you were completely bewitched by his cold beauty. Your lashes fluttered up as he started unbuttoning your white shirt. It was painfully slowly yet your bra came into view faster than expected.

For a brief moment, your eyes glanced at the scattered files laying on the floor — a clear reminder that whatever was happening was completely forbidden.

He was your client. A client you knew, yes. But a client nonetheless. And in addition to that, you were engaged to someone who was waiting for you on the other side of the alley.

“Zabdiel,” you muttered as you covered his hand with yours, abruptly forcing him to stop.

His look turned dark and you could feel a pool of wetness between your legs. You were fucked. Utterly fucked.

His tattooed fingers wrapped around your uncovered neck as he leaned in closer. “Are you scared, Y/N?”

In vain, you searched for the right word to describe how you felt in this very moment. A combination of fear and desire for the same man. Yes, you were afraid of what he was capable of doing, especially after you read the awful crimes he had committed that landed him right here. Fear for lusting over a man who was no good to you, while a good man was waiting for you. Fear for lusting over a client which would instantly end the career you barely began.

"Yes,” you mumbled under your breath, your pearly white teeth biting onto the flesh of your bottom lip.

“Tell me to stop then, princesa,” he challenged you.

You both knew you didn’t have the ability to do that. Deep down, you didn’t want him to stop. 

“Y/N, Is everything okay?” your fiancé suddenly shouted from the other end of the hallway, unable to see what was going on in this cell.

“Yes baby!” you replied while your eyes focused on the tall blonde before you, your hand gripped onto his wrist as he kept his grip around your neck.

Leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours. The soft embrace quickly turned into a sensual and ardent kiss, his velvet tongue dancing against yours like it used to.

His grip tightened against your neck as you unzipped his grey jumpsuit. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, your body temperature increasing despite the chilly condition of this prison.

“Wait wait, we can’t,” you reminded him. 

“I won’t tell your boyfriend,” he whispered against your lips.

“Fiancé,” you retorted.

Animosity overwhelmed him yet again at the choice of words as he pulled away from your lips and throat.

“What’s so special about him?” he inquired as he pressed a blazing kiss against your neck. Another quiet whimper escaped your lips.

“Can he make you feel this good?” he went on as he pushed your tight skirt up to your waist. His lips paced light kisses along your warm neck down to your chest. 

Pushing down your bra, Zabdiel took your breasts into his hands. His long fingers brushing across your nipples before he placed his lips upon them, making them harden. You shivered from the desire coursing through your body as he began to slide his tongue in circles around the tight buds. You ran your fingers through his blonde locks, tugging at them tighter as your body arched for him.

Pushing your panties aside, his hand found your wetness, his finger sliding inside you as you let out a desperate whine. 

"Shh," he silenced you.

The tall man sucked on your nipple harder, his finger gliding in and out of you so easily, building your climax, only to pull back as he sensed you near the edge. His lips soon captured yours — the kiss was passionate and carnal as you pushed down the sleeves of his jumpsuit, leaving him shirtless. 

Drawing your lips between your teeth, the simple sight made him harder for you. As a prisoner, he hadn’t been able to satisfy his sexual needs for quite a while and all he could think about now, was fucking you. 

Grabbing your thighs, he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“I’m still waiting on my answer, mami. Can your fiancé make you feel this good?” he repeated before he thrusted into you. You gasped, trying to readjust yourself to his size. “Does he fuck you like I do?”

His words were provoking and yet they made you more aroused than you already were.

No answer could leave your mouth. Nothing but moans. His mouth instantly muffled your sounds as he kissed you while you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Sweat collected on his forehead as he forcefully slid in and out of you, his hands back on your throat as he choked you. “Digame,” 

“No...he...can’t,” you managed to let out between his grip on your throat and his rough thrusts.

Inching his cock deeper, Zabdiel slammed his hips forward, hammering your pussy. The sound of your skins smacking against eachother and short breaths echoed through the room and you desperately hoped no one could hear that on the other end of the hallway.

"Don't stop," you quietly moaned, your hand clasped the metal prison bar on your left, your engagement ring clanging against it over and over again as he pounded into you. Your knuckles turning completely white.

You arched your back, your feet trembled as your pussy clenched tighter around him.

"Come on, cum for me, princesa," he ordered as he squeezed your mouth with his hand. His thrusts became uncontrolled and erratic and your climax peaked. He continued plunging into you before he finally came inside you — a way for him to mark you despite the fact you were not his anymore.

Strands of hair were completely wet as you desperately tried to fix it while Zabdiel put you back down on the floor. Your legs were shaking as you pushed down your skirt and buttoned up your blouse.

You felt completely dirty but god did this feel so good.

His hands zipped back up his jumpsuit, brown eyes studying your every move as a smirk played on his lips. 

Bending over, you gathered your files, placing them back into the folder he had previously thrown. 

“I have to go,” you timidly said, avoiding his gaze. 

“Sure, mi amor,” he boldly responded as he gently grabbed your chin and leaned in for a soft kiss.

“Zabdiel, this can’t happen anymore,” you warned him as your lips gently pulled away.

Stepping out of the cell, you indicated your fiancé that you were done.

Walking back towards the cell, he grabbed the keys and locked it up.

Zabdiel’s soft brown eyes lingered on yours as he leaned against the prison bars. 

“It was nice to meet you, Mrs Y/L/N” he winked. 

#zabdiel de jesus #zabdiel de jesus imagine #zabdiel de jesus smut #zabdiel #imagine

[aurantia-ignis]

Track 07: The Finished Script

Tales of Graces Anthology Drama CD Summer 2012 (Rough translation)

(Listen)

Malik: Ladies and gentlemen. Without further ado, here's the script for our finalized programme.

Richard: It's already done? That's was extremely quick.

Hubert: Even with a draft, this is surprisingly swift work from a script writing amateur. Honestly, I'm amazed.

L!Asbel: Hmph.

Richard: ...Asbel?

Cheria: He's been like that ever since he woke up this morning. I wonder what happened.

Hubert: Let's see... In a country without rainfall, two men with different missions wished to attain the power of the Goddess, and fought.

Richard: The Prince wished to change his decayed country. The Commoner wished to heal his wife's illness. The Court Jester spoke of the legend of the Goddess' power, and the men decided to seek it.

Cheria: The Court Minister led the Wife to believe that the commoner sought the Goddess to betray her, so she followed the Commoner, plotting to die with him.

Raymond: The Court Minister deceived the prince, and the clueless Wife apologised as she stabbed the Prince.

Barry: The Prince managed to survive, and he sentenced the Wife to death.

Dalen: The Commoner decided to bear the consequences of her crime, and stood upon the stage of execution. He did not know that it was all a trap to kill himself, the hidden child of the previous royal.

Malen: The Prince learned the truth, and stood forward to save the Commoner.

Pascal: The moment when the Prince was in danger, the Goddess appeared, and by her miraculous power, she saved the Prince.

Richard: The Prince fell in love with the Goddess, and to remain with her forever, he entrusted the country to the Commoner, and swallowed medicine that would allow him to pass into Heaven.

Malik: The Goddess ascended to heaven with the corpse of the Prince. From that day onwards, the Goddess' tears fell to earth as rain.

Hubert: Asbel wrote this...?!

Pascal: It's really interesting!!

Malik: To be honest, I didn't expect you to give us something of this quality. Asbel, well done.

L!Asbel: Even with a script, there's no point if the actors are useless.

Richard: What's the matter? It's not like you to be so belligerent.

Raymond: Just because you've awakened some kind of writing talent in you, don't you get on your high horse!!

L!Asbel: Awakened... Yes, perhaps something has awakened. It will be interesting to watch your tiny, helpless efforts.

Richard: Asbel...

L!Asbel: It was more than easy for me to write this. Interesting. I will assign the roles for this play. Here's the casting. Richard will play the Prince. The young lieutenant from Strahta will play the Commoner. The gem polishing girl will play his Wife. Windol's old minister will play the King. The King's Court Minister and the Executioner will both be played by the noisy rat from Strahta. The Judge will be played by the young man from Lhant.  The Court Jester will be played by the Amarcian descendant. The healing girl will be the narrator. And... The role of the Goddess of Eternity will be played by you. Protos Heis.

Cheria: Asbel, you shouldn't call her that!

Hubert: It's too much even for a joke.

Raymond: For that matter, you should call the rest of us by our names too! That was so rude!

Sophie: I'm Sophie. That's what you said before, right?

L!Asbel: Hm, I wonder. I've forgotten.

Richard: Asbel. There must be a reason for you to speak so coldly to Sophie.

L!Asbel: And if I say, there's none?

Richard: I'll wring your arm until you change your mind! Now, let's hear your reason, Asbel!

Malik: Well... Since Asbel has decided on the casting, I have no objections. Though I'm sure everyone has a lot to say, we will begin rehearsals tomorrow morning. For tonight, read through all your scripts and learn them. Dismissed! Asbel, I don't know what happened, but talk it through right now. Got it?

L!Asbel: Enough. Let go.

Sophie: Let go of him, Richard.

Sophie: Asbel. ...No. It's been a long time, Lambda.

Richard: Lambda!?

Lambda: The Amarcian descendant woke me by force. I had no intention to reenter into this world, with its light filth.  

Sophie: Did you write that script?

Lambda: I merely connected this person's memories, his knowledge, and the visions in his heart, and wrote them down. You may attribute the raw ideas to him.

Richard: What's happened to Asbel?

Lambda: He's sleeping soundly. He must have been greatly exhausted. Having to look after you lot, plus he pushed himself further in order to make time to come here.

Sophie: Asbel...

Richard: So you're currently borrowing the body of the sleeping Asbel. But that's...

Lambda: Relax. It's only until he wakes. I have no interest in this filthy world.

Richard: Lambda...!

Sophie: Hey, Lambda. Won't you join us in making this play?

Lambda: What....?

Sophie: Although we have the script now, without the scriptwriter, we won't know how to act it. Right, Richard?

Richard: Indeed! Besides, the rest think that you are Asbel... So if you don't join us, they will be suspicious.

Lambda: What are you two planning?

Sophie: Hehe. I wonder what?

Richard: In any case! Let us keep this from the others for a while.

Sophie: Yes. Okay, Lambda? It's a secret!

Lambda: Stop making decisions on your own.

Sophie: And now! Time to rehearse!

Lambda: Hmph. A mere humanoid and a human child... Do not presume to order me around.

#Happy birthday Artpharos #I'll sub it properly when I come back from Japan #so this is just a rough translation

[bryanfaganlaw]

Creative solutions to problems regarding parental rights in Texas

If you have need a best suitable service your Child Law experience, Creative solutions to problems regarding parental rights in Texas with the great process!

Houston Family Lawyers: If you are going through a difficult child custody or divorce case and are in need of practical solutions to the problems that you are facing, you have come to the right place. The Law Office of Bryan Fagan achieves successful results for our clients in part because we are able to arrive at practical solutions for our clients using negotiation and our experience in Texas family law.

In every family case, there is an issue that seems like it will be nearly impossible to solve. While it may be unavoidable that you will have tough circumstances in your case, it does not have to be true that those tough circumstances will invariably lead to a trial.

Parenting decisions related to the education, physical health and mental well-being of your child are among the most important rights that you will have in relation to your child. How those rights are allocated between you and your child's other parent can determine a great deal of how happy, productive and healthy your child will be in the future. Given the importance of this subject, I wanted to devote today's blog post to discuss how you can arrive at a desirable outcome and not have to see the inside of a courtroom in order to do so.

Educational Decisions

We touched on this briefly in yesterday’s blog post but I think that it bears repeating today. Parents in Texas family law cases no longer have to assign the right to designate the primary residence of their child to one parent in particular. It is possible for you and the other parent to agree that your child’s residence should be restricted to a specific geographic region, instead. This can go a long ways towards making you and your child’s other parent satisfied that neither of you will be a primary conservator of your child, it still opens up some questions about where your child will attend school.

Children in Texas are allowed to attend a school in the school district in which either of their parents resides. If this is the case and either you or the other parent are within your rights to have your child attend the schools zoned to your residence, what we need to figure out is how are the educational rights going to be divided between you and your child's other parent as far as decision making is concerned.

What school will your child be attending? How will it be possible for you and your child’s other parent, when you are not in agreement with one another, make educational decisions together on behalf of that child?

In many cases, the two parents will eventually agree that one of them should be able to make decisions regarding education exclusively. The parent who holds this right would have to seek out the counsel and opinion of the other parent but would not be bound in any way by those opinions. If this option is not chosen, what can you all do to avoid stalemates when there is a disagreement on a particular issue?

In the search for a tie-breaker, a therapist, counselor or other trusted individual is oftentimes sought to fill this role. The counselor could select the appropriate school for your child at the beginning of each school year. If not a therapist, a pediatrician or school administrator/official can fill these shoes if necessary.

Medical decisions that involve surgery

The term "invasive medical procedure" is the language that you will see used most often in reference to medical procedures that closely mirror surgeries. However, you and your child's other parent will need to figure out for yourselves what an invasive medical procedure is. Do dental procedures count as an invasive medical treatment? What about a tattoo? Look to the terms of your settlement agreement and ultimately the order in your case to see what you all define an invasive medical procedure as.

On a more practical level, you and your child's other parent will need to figure out how you are going to manage the scheduling of doctor's appointments. Can this be done without consulting with the other parent? Can both parents be present in the doctor's office during an appointment? Hopefully, surgeries and other invasive procedures are not that commonplace for your child, but a doctor's appointment probably will be.

Another major issue that you will need to get squared away is which doctor is going to be your child’s primary care physician. Once you figure this out you will need to decide how specialists are going to be considered and selected if the need to do so arises. What some families will do is agree to maintain primary care with a particular doctor for as long as practical. If that physician moves, retires or a parent wishes to change to another physician, that primary care doctor should be consulted and their choice for a replacement should be used.

A good rule of thumb for your attorney to use with you in this sort of setting is to try and have you think about this decision in the way that you would have you and your child's other parent never separated in the first place. How would you all have arrived at a solution in this setting if there were a disagreement between the two of you?

If you are like most families, you would sit down at the dinner table and discuss the issues once enough information has been collected to have an intelligent discussion. From there you would decide what arrangement, as far as parental decision making is concerned, would be the best for your child.

Psychological or psychiatric treatment- who calls the shots?

Houston Family Law Attorney: The same type of analysis can be done for psychiatric and psychological decisions that we just wrapped up in our previous section on invasive medical procedures. These are also very important rights that will need to be divided between yourself and the other parent to your child. Consider just how often medications are prescribed for children or the role that specific diagnoses (like ADD or ADHD) can have on your child in school and other places. You need to arrive at a parenting structure that benefits your child.

Consider why you and your child’s other parent are no longer in a relationship. Could it be that issues like this helped to drive you both apart from one another? It is probably not the case that one of these disagreements was the driving factor that led to the breakup of your relationship, but it could very well be that the disagreements on these sort of subject contributed heavily to the decision to end the relationship.

Drug use among children is a problem in our country. There are all sorts of facts and figures that I could cite here, but I think we would all agree that any amount of drug use by a child is too much. As such, if you find yourself in a position where your child is abusing drugs or alcohol it is extremely important that you be able to see to it that the child receives treatment. However, not every family can agree on how best to handle it.

Consider a situation where your child was caught smoking marijuana. Your ex-spouse may just think that it is a phase that he or she is going through. Nothing to be all that concerned with, certainly no need to send your child to a doctor or other medical professional for consultations. However, you may take the exact opposite point of view. You could see the situation as a cry for help from your child and a long-lasting problem that you have to nip in the bud while you still can. When you all hold such divergent views how can you possibly arrive at a solution that is acceptable to both of you?

What your attorney should be working to help you avoid is a situation where you seek expensive medical care for your child over the objection of your child’s other parent. Your child’s other parent could then reverse course a week later without consulting you. What you are then left with is a child who is not really receiving any consistent care for their problem(s), a bill for medical care that provided no benefit to anyone, and two upset parents. Sounds like a perfect storm for a family law case.

Your attorney should be working with you to answer a few, important questions. First of all, which parent should be making the decision on whether or not to have your child formally evaluated for a medical/psychological problem?

Once that decision is made you need to decide which parent is going to be the one to make a decision on what course of action to take on behalf of your child? What happens if it becomes obvious that it may be necessary to consider inpatient care for your child? If nothing else, a tie-breaker would be good to have inserted into the court order in the event that no conclusion can be reached on these subjects.

What about other rights not included in the Texas Family Code as necessary?

Divorce Lawyers in Houston: The three rights that we just finished discussing are the big-ticket items that you and your attorney will focus heavily on when it comes to negotiating final orders in your family law case. However, there are other rights that can be important as well that are not always discussed in family cases ... Continue Reading

#divorce #Divorce Attorney #divorce lawyer #divorce law #houston divorce lawyer #family #Family Law #fagan #family attorneys #Houston family law #attorney #attorneys #child custody attorney #law #lawyer #lawyers #Houston #Houston attorneys #texas attorneys #Texas

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

The Senate impeachment trial of President Trump is finally kicking off this week. And while the trial itself is a momentous political event, the whole process feels a bit like having peeked at the last few pages of a book: We don’t know exactly how the plot will unfold, but we already know where it will end. As at this point, there’s no sign that there are anywhere near 67 senators willing to vote to remove Trump from office.

But despite the final vote being something of a foregone conclusion, there are still a number of genuinely open questions that the trial might resolve. The answers to these questions might not be enough to break the country out of the partisan logjam that’s surrounded the impeachment process for months, but they could at the very least inject some uncertainty into a process that has come to feel quite inevitable. (And there’s always the chance, however small, for a truly shocking development.) Here are some of the major questions we’ll be following closely as the impeachment trial gets started:

What will Trump’s defense look like?

The impeachment process has been in motion for more than three months, but we still haven’t heard a formal defense from Trump’s legal team, outlining their case for why his conduct doesn’t merit impeachment and removal. It’s not because Trump was boxed out of the impeachment inquiry in the House either.1 They just refused to participate.

That means that the arguments we heard in favor of Trump during the House impeachment hearings were presented by his Republican allies in Congress, not his lawyers. And while their defenses of the president have been vigorous, they’ve also been scattershot.

For instance, at various moments over the past few months, Republicans have argued, among other things, that the testimony presented was “secondhand” or “hearsay”; that Trump was just concerned about a (debunked) theory alleging Ukrainian interference in the 2016 election; that Ukraine said there was no pressure so there couldn’t be a quid pro quo; that quid pro quos happen all the time in foreign policy; that the whistleblower was politically biased against the president; that Trump’s rights were denied throughout the process; and that Democrats have been looking for an excuse to impeach Trump since the day he took office. These arguments don’t add up to a coherent whole — in some cases, they directly contradict each other — but Republicans didn’t really need to offer a logically cohesive case in order to sow confusion during the hearings about Democrats’ claims.

Now, though, Trump’s legal team is expected to offer a more conventional defense, which will be presented at the trial by White House lawyer Pat Cipollone, and Jay Sekulow, who has been Trump’s personal lawyer since 2017. Several other attorneys were also added to the team in the past few days, including Ken Starr, the Whitewater independent counsel whose investigation led to Clinton’s impeachment, and the perennially TV-ready Alan Dershowitz, a constitutional lawyer and emeritus professor at Harvard Law School.

And we got a preview of the president’s lawyers’ strategy in legal filings released over the past few days, where Trump’s team argued that the impeachment vote was a “brazenly political act” that punished the president for simply performing his duties as chief executive. Those documents also hinted at a multi-pronged defense that echoes some of the arguments already previewed by Trump and his allies: First, that Trump’s behavior was “entirely appropriate” and didn’t rise to the level of an impeachable offense and second, that the process pursued by the Democrats was illegitimate and unfair. The filings also suggested that the defense is likely to be aggressive and concede no wrongdoing by Trump rather than simply arguing that his conduct doesn’t meet the standard for impeachment. The upcoming election could also play a role as well, since Trump’s legal team also accused Democrats of using impeachment to “interfere with the 2020 election — now just months away.” However it plays out, their arguments will be televised and Trump himself is sure to be watching closely.

How will Chief Justice John Roberts preside over the trial?

Another potential wildcard is Chief Justice John Roberts, who will cross the street between the Supreme Court and the Capitol each afternoon to preside over the trial. It’s possible his role will be mostly ceremonial, especially if President Clinton’s impeachment trial is any indication. (At its close, Chief Justice William Rehnquist famously said, borrowing a line from a Gilbert and Sullivan opera, “I did nothing in particular and did it very well.”)

But the chief justice’s power isn’t actually all that clearly defined, and some legal commentators have argued that he could have significant influence over the proceedings if he chooses. In the impeachment trial of President Andrew Johnson, for instance, Chief Justice Salmon Chase cast two tie-breaking votes. Roberts could theoretically do the same if the senators are deadlocked over an issue like whether to call additional witnesses. Although there are some limits — Roberts’s decisions can, for example, be overridden by a majority of senators.

The chief justice will be closely watched for other reasons, too. For one, the impeachment trial isn’t the only Trump-related case on Roberts’s docket this year. In a few months, the Supreme Court will consider a high-profile separation-of-powers dispute over whether House Democrats can obtain the president’s financial records. Secondly, Roberts’s relationship with Trump hasn’t exactly been smooth. While Trump was running for president, he called Roberts a “disaster” and a “nightmare for conservatives.” And in 2018, Roberts rebuked Trump after the president attacked a judge who ruled to restrict his asylum policy as an “Obama judge,” saying, “We do not have Obama judges or Trump judges, Bush judges or Clinton judges.”

Roberts, who is known for his concern about the court’s institutional reputation, may not want to do anything too splashy during the trial to avoid creating the impression of partisanship. But it will be instructive, all the same, to see how he navigates the treacherous waters of an impeachment trial — particularly if there are close votes or disputes over witnesses and evidence.

Will any new evidence emerge?

Of course, one of the biggest unanswered questions as the trial begins is whether the senators will agree to call witnesses or subpoena documents or if new evidence will emerge in other ways.

In the previous two presidential impeachment trials, witnesses did testify. Democrats have been pushing for the Senate to call several Trump aides who haven’t yet shared what they know about the president’s conduct on Ukraine, including former national security advisor John Bolton. (Bolton said he would comply with a subpoena to testify.) Only four Republicans would need to break ranks in order to make this happen.

That doesn’t seem especially likely at this point, even though three Republican senators have already said they’re open to voting to call witnesses. But a fight over witnesses could also end up giving Democrats more than they bargained for, since some Republicans have been arguing for what they’re calling “witness reciprocity” — in other words, if the Democrats insist on hearing from John Bolton, the Republicans will haul in Hunter Biden.

New evidence could also trickle out in other ways, though, and indeed, it already is. Last week, House impeachment investigators released new information obtained from Lev Parnas, an associate of Rudy Giuliani who’s currently under criminal indictment. The documents, which include text messages and voicemails, provide a detailed portrait of Parnas’s involvement with the Ukraine pressure campaign and inject a new layer of uncertainty into the impeachment trial as it begins — a reminder that there’s still a significant amount of information that we don’t know about Trump’s conduct when it comes to Ukraine.

At this point, as you can read in my colleague Perry Bacon Jr.’s article published today, we think the impeachment process in the Senate will play out largely as it did in the House: along party lines. But it’s also dangerous to assume that the trial will unfold exactly as we expect. There are still plenty of open questions that could lead to big surprises over the next few weeks — and continue to shape the narrative on impeachment — even if we’re pretty confident about how this story will end.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux