#crawling out of the grave to yell about election night

[softsillytwsted]

The Sleep of Blue Roses

I had this thought in my head of a what if story about an Ace betrayal and couldn’t stop myself from writing this until it was done. This is honestly not what I usually write because it’s kinda dark, but hey - it fits October doesn’t it?

Warnings: implied character death, implied domestic abuse, angst, the slow crawl of helplessness

Somewhere between now and back when you were still here, Deuce never understood limits. How can he? You were magicless, but you selflessly faced those impossibly stronger than you and succeeded. Deuce felt that nothing was out of reach when he was with you, with Ace, with Grim, Jack, Epel, Sebek...

When did things go wrong?

After weeks of strategizing a way to rescue Grim, who’s habit of eating everyone’s negative energy finally caused him to overblot, the gray monster was finally back to normal. Looking back, Deuce could only see how reckless and impossible the task was. They were up against a monster that had the combined magic and unique magic of the 7 strongest students from an academy of elites. The situation that promised death loomed over everyone, yet with you there, no one had any doubts they would fail. Not Riddle, not Leona, not Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, nor Malleus. And the impossible was made possible.

And you left this world thinking the impossible can be made possible.

“I arrived in Twisted Wonderland right after my mom contacted me,” you admitted shyly. “I haven’t talked to her since I was a kid because my dad always told me to stay away from her but... I really want to see her again.”

You were in front of the mirror, bags packed and your friends surrounding you. You can finally return back home and with a piece of the Dark Mirror in your hands you can communicate with them whenever you desired.

Deuce beamed at you, “It’ll go great, I know it will! My mother is always kind to me and she wanted what was best for me. I’m sure yours will be the same too!”

Ace hugged you before you left. “It’s seriously going to get so boring without you around. You better contact us or I’ll go over there and kick your ass.” Jokes aside, you and Deuce could tell by the glint in Ace’s eyes that he meant every word. You smiled at him then, because despite knowing each other for a year, the three of you shared an inseparable bond.

“I promise.”

You left them.

Days passed, then weeks, with no word from you. After one month, Ace angrily stormed into the Mirror Chamber and demanded to go see you.

“They do not exist.”

“Of course they don’t fucking exist, they’re in another world- now lead me to them!”

“They do not exist in this world or in any other world.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that!? They were here just a month ago!” Ace lunged at the mirror. His fists futilely pounded on its glassy surface before he tried to shake the mirror out of its placeholder. Deuce had to restrain the wildly thrashing Ace before the ginger stilled in his arms- lifeless. “Whatever, I’m over it.” He took a deep breath and walked away, ignoring Deuce’s and Grim’s cries after him.

If Deuce took better notice of the chill that followed Ace’s steps, maybe things would’ve been different. Instead, he visited the Mirror Chamber until a year passed and he too gave up- only visiting again on occasion, whereas Grim still stops by everyday.

Ace’s friendship with Deuce and Grim were strained at best. The ginger acted the same, but something was different. Like a cherished photo misplaced. Deuce didn’t question when Ace started hanging out with Kalim and Jamil more and Deuce and the other first years less. Nor did he stop to think about why Ace volunteered to do errands for Azul and Crowley. He even looked away when he saw Ace chatting it up with the two princes of the school.

They graduated like this without mentioning the name Y/n.

***

“AAH! Oh no are you alright?” Deuce yelled after you when you somersaulted from a heavy onslaught of his color-changing magic. “I’m so sorry!”

You could only giggle at your current state. Ace warned you not to get close to Deuce while he was changing the colors of the roses, but you assumed being behind Deuce would be safe. You were now paying for your mistakes. “Don’t worry about it Deuce,” you paused. The smile you flashed him revealed a weariness he couldn’t comprehend. “It was my fault too.”

***

Two years later, Deuce finally passed his test to become part of Rose Kingdom’s Elite Division. Right after orientation, he was pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ace who threw an arm over the bluenette’s shoulders and cheekily grinned at him like the two never grew apart. For a long moment, Deuce believed they never did as the two went to a bar to celebrate and catch up. Deuce breezed through all the sleepless nights he spent studying and training; Ace regaled his continuation of his internship. 

“They loved me so much they made a new position to get me to stay!” he said. “And guess what? He said that if he becomes prime minister he’ll make me one of his advisors. Not too bad huh?”

Deuce couldn’t be happier for Ace. He always wondered what Ace, who blanched at the idea of the future, would do with his life. He admits, however, that politics was the furthest thing he would ever imagine his friend doing. “Being in the political scene can be dangerous I hear. Luckily I can assign my own bodyguards, including a certain elite policeman.”

This was news to Deuce. He was unaware of any political strife that would need the Elite Division, which specialized in magic-related crimes, to act as bodyguards... Maybe he needs to follow the news more closely. Regardless, Deuce grinned with all teeth and slammed his fist in his palm. “Just leave it to me, no way in hell I’ll let my buddy get hurt.”

“...Glad I can count on you... buddy.”

***

Deuce helped you up and tried to wipe off the paint on your uniform. You didn’t bother telling him that he was only smearing the paint into your clothes because of the look of concentration on his face telling you how hard he wanted to make this right. “Oh Deuce, you ended up painting the finished roses blue too.”

“What? Oh no...” he groaned at the extra work he’ll have to do. Will he be in time for the Unbirthday Party?

“Hey relax, I’ll help you out! We should be finished within an hour if we hurry,” you reassured him. He flashed you a grateful smile which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

***

The time between then and the election passed with a blink of an eye. Once his candidate won, Ace swaggered over to Deuce’s department with the confidence and authority that didn’t fit a 21 year-old advisor. It didn’t take long for Deuce to find himself a part of Ace’s security detail. It took an even shorter amount of time for Deuce to feel like he was slowly crawling into a waking nightmare.

Deuce tried to ignore it, tried to give Ace the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t excuse the things Ace did right in front of him. Dismissals of important emergency committees, deregulation of organizations with authority, increased spending on militarized weapons. The public blamed all these new policies on their new prime minister, but Deuce knew who the real mastermind was.

It didn’t take long for him to confront Ace - especially after he realized that the recent strings of overblot cases popping up across the country were a direct result of Ace’s policies.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Ace sneered. Deuce looked away; the gun in his hand hung lifelessly by his side. “You couldn’t even stop Y/n from leaving to die. You definitely won’t stop me from having my way with this country.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that... You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Ace looked at Deuce like he was a bug beneath his shoe, but the quake in his eyes said otherwise. “You’re hereby dismissed from your post. If the next time I see you and you try to stop me, I’ll crush you.”

Ace walked away from Deuce- just like he did years ago.

“I’ve done too much to have you get in my way.” 

***

Deuce felt so lucky to have met you, despite the rocky beginning. You never hesitated to help and encourage him. Sometimes, when his vague idea of an honor student wasn’t enough to guide him, he would look to you.

He wondered if you knew how much he wanted to repay you for being you.

He wondered if he can one day be someone you would be proud to know.

He wondered... what you thought of him.

***

The familiar halls of Night Raven College felt comforting - a temporary balm to the turmoil Deuce felt lately. He had hoped to see some of his old teachers and Crowley, but the school’s headmaster was tasked to find the Magic Mirror, the legendary mirror that the Beautiful Queen used once upon a time. No doubt, this was Ace’s doing.

When Deuce reached the Mirror Chamber, he was surprised to find Grim was nowhere to be found. Deuce ignored the churning in his stomach and thought to himself that maybe he was just early. After all these years, Grim never stopped believing that you would return to them. Crowley always spoke with pity in his voice about how the little monster would visit the Dark Mirror everyday- waiting, staring.

Deuce respectfully crouched in front of the mirror - like a mourner in front of a grave. 

“Hello Y/n I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last visit,” Deuce began, he softly smiled while thinking of all the memories he had of you. “I was able to pass the qualifications to be part of the Elite Division. One of my first assignments was actually to guard Ace, can you believe that?”

He paused and tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Um… about Ace he… he’s made it big as a politician. He’s my friend and I was happy for him but… a part of me is scared. He’s not the same anymore after you left Y/n. Looking back, I can’t help but think how reckless and dumb we were to risk our lives against people we had no chance against. But we always made it through thanks to you.” Every single sentence, every single word came out in a rush. It was a confession to all the sins he committed letting Ace go. A realization that he could never be the man he wanted you to be proud of.

“You somehow make the impossible possible… I… I really need that right now...” He begged, “Please… I need...”

Deuce didn’t realize he was crying until the tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his clenched fists. He looked up at the Dark Mirror and activated it. “Oh Dark Mirror, show me Y/n.”

“...”

“They do not exist.”

***

“Hey Deuce,” you began as you picked up a blue rose. The two of you were almost done cleaning up the mess Deuce made and you decided now was the time to take a breather. Deuce slouched in the shade of the hedge, too tired to do anything but hum to show he was listening. “In my world, blue roses were never found naturally, so they symbolized the impossible. But after years of research, my world was able to grow one.”

You handed Deuce the rose, its petals shone brilliantly despite its withering edges. Deuce took it curiously and the two of you shared a sweet smile.

“They now symbolize miracles.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade x reader #Ace Trappola x reader #twst fic #angst #character death #implied abuse #set in the future

[silvertonguedslavicwitch]

Πειρασμός | Peirasmós

Chapter 13 : Awful Incursions

She was still upset that they had opted to attack York while the residents were celebrating for what was supposed to be glorious day. Little did they know,  they'll end up bathing themselves in blood and the cheers of happiness will soon turn into that of a scream. Hvitserk had spent his nights with his wife for the past two days. So when Hvitserk asked her why she was so gloomy the morning, she scowled at the prince, which earned both his hands up held in defense for even asking such a stupid question. He apologized for asking such question briefly before pecking her forehead and made his way to his tent to get properly dressed. No doubt everyone was excited to raid the town. It was supposed to be defenseless today.

Wrapping her palm with a silk cloth, it was a tradition she's grown to love since a child. It signified their dignity. If vikings grew their hair and braided them to show their dominance and power, the Rus’ people used to tie a cloth around their palm up to their arms. Similar to that of a ribbon tied to the jouster during a tourney. She wondered if one day she would braid her hair like them, all these time the braids in her hair were simple ones, with the purpose of adorning what was left to decorate her status. Eron greeted her as he asked her, permission, to come inside her tent.

“Come in.”

He was all ready and equipped for the raid, one he no doubt had a distaste over, considering they chose the most horrible day to attack a church. Erika's dark locks were tied into a simple French braid, and completed her look by adorning herself with the outerwear of the armor. Their armor had nothing against the Saxons; who literally wore metal and brass to protect themselves in defense. They had the source better too. But the Russian army, they were more accustomed to both ways of the old and new. They welcome death like their predecessors, the Rus’ Vikings; Varangians. But they also equipped the way Roman built their offenses, courtesy of her mother being a Byzantine princess, that surely influenced their lands when they conquered a part of Russia.

They fought for honour and dignity. Which came to be a topic that was highly belittled by the Northmen. The tall Russian lieutenant handed her a bunch of stringed up silver necklaces. There were about a dozen of them or so. It was the leaders from each part of the army she had brought with them. Up from the vanguard leader to the archers. It was a ritual they do every morning before marching to a battle they might not survive. Smiling upon the male, the raven haired princess took the necklaces and kept it with her in a box near her bed.

“Come on.. They're probably grumpy from waiting for us.” Pushing the male to go out, Eron only chuckled before allowing his commander to walk out first.

The moment she stepped outside, she was greeted by Hvitserk who had been waiting for her. His grip on his vest tightened as he grinned in delight. Despite this raid today being a disrespectful thing for her, she couldn't help but to let a smile curve itself when she catches the glimpse of her husband happy. What wife wouldn't want that? Everyone wanted a blissful marriage and she wasn't one to be exempted.

“You look delightful,” she commented dryly and Hvitserk responded by shrugging absentmindedly. She walked alongside him with Eron following behind her with a few more soldiers trailing.

Turning to face the female, the latter almost halted in his steps but only turned his back against the road and walked backwards so he could converse with her instead. “I heard you mumbling a few words with your lieutenant. Was it Latin?,” he asked. Erika nodded.

“Why do you ask? Did it pique your interest that much? I thought you heard me speak in Latin every time I prayed. Careful Hvitserk, one would mistake you as a stalker.” The tender jest she had thrown towards his direction made the Ragnarsson snort.

“You are my wife. If anyone is keeping an eye on you, it should be me.” Rolling his eyes, he then asked what he wanted to ask. “What did you say, anyways. It sounded different than your prayers.”

Quirking her eyebrows up in surprise, she was slightly taken aback by the question. “You memorized my prayers?” Eron, who heard the conversation shook his head and said something towards her in Russian that made her snicker. “It was a mix between Latin and Greek, if you want to know. I was praying for my soldiers to come back safe and sound. Every time we were going off to a battle, may it be as small as solving a robbing party or even a theft case, we leave our lives at the behest of our merciful Lord.”

“When they were elected to be included in the army, each of the soldiers were given a silver necklace. It held their name and date of birth. Before we march, they would give the necklaces to their superiors, i.e. the leaders. And their leaders would give it to their commander. That's me. The commander would usually give it to the member of royalty that was leading but since I am their princess and their commander, both falls to me. Should there be any fallen, we would know who they were. A soldier's dreadful nightmare will always be to die and be forgotten. This way, no one will be forgotten. We'll have the right to hold a proper burial and give them a marked grave with their identity intact.” It seems to Hvitserk, that she was surprising them more and more every day.

No wonder their soldiers are devastatingly loyal. They were offered more than they could want and we're treated with utmost respect. Maybe they should take a page out of that book too. God(s) know how much loyalty is in a short supply these days.

Their conversation earlier had taken up the time, so much they didn't even realize the doors were before them just a few meters away from them. Sighing to herself, she turned to face Eron, who only looked down and had a solemn look. They were waiting for the doors to be opened by Ubbe and the others that infiltrated the town from inside using the way back. Soon enough, the doors were left ajar by the second eldest Ragnarsson, enabling the others to come rushing in and begin their raid. The cheers and war cries hollering around almost made it seem twice overwhelming than it originally should. Still standing by her side, Eron wanted to make sure everything was well, so his commander would not be forced to take a measure where she needed to slay anyone. Most of the people were huddled up in the church, no doubt praying to their Lord.

The golden cross necklace that hung lowly around her neck suddenly felt heavy for the princess to carry. She halted on her steps, and stared at the ground beneath them. Her boots were muddled up and tainted with the mud due to the wet pavement. She would rather see it wet with mud rather than blood. Her trustworthy lieutenant stopped and stood in front of Erika, who was then forced to look at him. A concerning look made its front and he asked the princess if she was okay or not. Clearly, she wasn't. But then again, we don't always get what we want.

“I'm fine. I just need a moment.” A moment that did not even last long as the doors were barged on by them and one scream was all it needed. One became two, two became dozen and a dozen became dozens. She wasn't sure how many of them were in there but the shrilling screams would not stop and the raven haired Russian had to look away and occupy her head with something else. The sight beholding before her was gruesome. Nuns were screaming as the vikings made it their mission to terrorize every being in the church.

Stepping inside, her breath hitched slightly as she bear witness to the tear stricken women and pleas of help being yelled out every once in a while. She wished this would end soon. From her side, she noticed Ivar crawling like a manic and made his way quickly to the Bishop that was held down by a few. Whatever business he had with the leader of the church, she had no parts in finding out. Ivar hated Christians. He despised them with all his might. From the corner of her eyes, she caught a sight of the Northmen dragging the nuns away. But one had particularly caught her attention;  Hvitserk.

The flaxen haired prince had dragged one of them down the stairs by the hair, or rather, headscarf. Watching the scene unfold before her eyes, she marched up to him and a yell of his name was all it took for him to release the woman. “Hvitserk!” The stern look that was present within her facial expression made the prince loosened his grip on the nun. But she was pushed from behind and lost her vision on him. Instead, she found herself straddled by a nun who begged for her to kill her.

“Calm down.” She spoke on Old Saxon. The nun recognized the language and placed both her hands together before trembling in fear, requesting for the Russian to end her quickly as she did not wish to suffer like the unlucky ones. Closing her eyes briefly, Erika lets out a heaved sigh before fluttering them back open, this time with her right hand resting on the hilt of her dagger on the left side of her belt. Unsheathing it from the cover, she kneeled down to the woman's level and placed the other free hand on her shoulder. “Shh.. You're fine.” Without another word uttered, she made a quick and swift slash upon the nun's carotid artery. It was a quick death.

Erika knew she couldn't be saved. So the least she could do is give them a quick death. The blood spurted from her victim's trachea area, staining her outerwear. The latter then made a swift sign of the cross, bidding the nun away. “May God bless your soul.” Her eyes wandered back and forth inside the room, where the stench of dead bodies and copper were mixed together. Scrunching her nose up slightly, she wiped the blood off her dagger using her clothes and was about to find Hvitserk, when she suddenly saw Ivar torturing the Bishop.

She couldn't stop him. Of course, she couldn't. How could she. If the crippled Ragnarsson ended up being very angry, she might find herself to be the replacement or even crucified against anywhere. Ivar was ruthless, that much she never doubted. Eron turned her gaze away from the painful cries of the Bishop, successfully averting her gaze towards the door instead. Then, she heard the cries of a child. “Did you hear that, Eron?” The persistent princess stepped out of his shadows and saw a child standing in the middle of the pile of bodies.

She trudged through and kneeled in front of the boy. “Oh you poor child..” Maybe his parents were killed, she thought. But this child might not survive at the end of the day. Ivar had no problem sacrificing two Saxon boys for a sacrifice, she hardly doubted he'd spare this one. He'd call him a nuisance. Picking the child up, she caught the attention of Ivar, who roared out a command for the dead Bishop to be tied up to the horse's hoofs and be dragged around. It's humiliating enough for his manner of death and now he wishes to show the aftermath? Truly, she can never understand their barbaric ways.

“What is it there you've got with you, Lille Ild.” That caused her to froze in her spot as she slowly turned around to face the cripple. Her eyes were searching wildly for Hvitserk and Ubbe. Eron was by her side, thankfully. Ubbe stood not far from Ivar was at while Hvitserk- Hvitserk was nowhere to be found.

“He's just a child, Ivar.”

Taking the child forcibly from her grasp, Ivar had the two vikings take the child away. “And what were you going to do with it? Hm? Raise it?” That earned her a sewn mouth. Sunking her teeth on her bottom lip, she refrained herself from lashing out purely in anger and went to search for Hvitserk.

“Have you seen Hvitserk?,” was what she has been asking for a while now. But no one paid her any attention. She went back inside the church and saw a figure leaning against the walls, covered with blood from head to toe. Rushing to his aid, she made sure to inspect him for any injury before slumping next to him.

“I hope this was worth it.”

Only silence ensued.

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

Erika spent the entire evening walking around the buildings in the town, inspecting every nook and corner of the recently raided town. She would rather isolate herself away from all the screams and wails from the people that were not yet killed. It wasn't as if they would be alive for long. While she was walking down the stone pavement, she felt someone following her from a corner, and backed away slightly as she then unsheathed her sword; pointing the sharp end of her edged weapon towards the intruder. It only turned out to be Eron.

Sighing to herself, she realized she had let the paranoia overpower her again. Slowly reverting her sword back onto its sheath, she scowled at her lieutenant. “You should know better than to sneak up on me, Eron. I really did sharpen my sword before coming here today, if I had placed anymore pressure, I would've made a cut on your femoral artery.” In a hushed tone, the raven haired woman hit his shoulder, which only earned a snicker from the taller male.

“It's good practice, isn't it? Instead of scowling, you should be thanking me, princess,” he heated playfully and trailed behind her as she walked away down the alley, quickly catching up to his superior. “Everyone's looking for you. You've been gone for a while.”

Snorting in response, the pessimist that is Erikaterina turned her head to face her friend and shook her head, clicking her tongue a few times. “That's a surprise. Thought no one will ever notice my absence. There goes my chance in fleeing.”

“You're not just a bad liar, you're also incompetent and truly oblivious in making jokes, Rika.” That was the first time since a while that Eron had used his nickname on her. The two were childhood friends; him being one of the few companions she had growing up together in Wessex. She could trust him with her life. And that was saying something. “You make horrible ones.”

“Maybe it's because it wasn't meant to be a joke most of the time.”

The Russian born princess cherished her freedom and her free will. She was only stoic and conservative due to her upbringing. In fact, she enjoyed plenty of hobbies that of horse riding, archery, sewing and writing. Aethelwulf once praised her hand written letter being very elegant and sophisticated looking. So much that the letter she had sent to her uncle, Michael III, the Byzantine Emperor; sent over a reply with words of encouragement. There was always a trademark somewhere that signified her writing. Of course, she hasn't had the time to implement every aspect of her liking in her vicinity.

Emerging from the dark shadows of the alley, she returned to the center of the town with Eron trailing behind her. She saw Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar sitting by the church, quenching their thirst away. “There were hidden tunnels,” she quipped simply, interrupting the intensity being given by both Ivar and Ubbe respectively. Hvitserk almost thanked her for being there to break the awkward tension that rises up each second.

“What?”

“When I was inspecting the alleyways, I saw an entrance underneath that leads to a tunnel.. Likely into a sewer. I have not checked it out yet. Just thought you should have the honour.” She shrugged as she herself took the cup from Hvitserk's grasp, finishing whatever content that was within it. “The architecture reminds me a lot of the Romans.” That explains how tricky it was to navigate her way through the maze-like alleys. “You can go check them out. I'll be out.. Riding for some fresh air.”

But just when she was about to leave, she was halted by the sudden approach of Hvitserk's voice. “It's too dangerous to ride out there alone. They'll know the town fell..”

“I'll have Eron accompany me, don't worry. I'll be back before dark.” Without sparing so much a glance nor a reassuring glance, she left in a hurry. Dragging the reins from her mare, she mounted herself up the saddle and clicked her tongue, urging the majestic white creature to go forward. The fresh whiff of the cold air gave the princess a fleeting moment of euphoria itself. Soon enough, a dark brown horse marched up next to her, the owner being her own trusted friend. “Don't you think you're being too harsh to him?”

As the fiery spirit kindled itself within her, Erika squinted her eyes in confusion while facing her childhood friend. “You've been with them for less than two months and you have already fallen in love with the princes? It took you earlier than I expected.”

“I didn't mean anything by that. But I thought Hvitserk and you are progressing. I want to see you happy, Rika. We all do. You're all Novgorod has left after your brother. I wish you would stop acting like no one's out to look out for you.” Despite being a few years older than the younger princess, Eron filled most of the time being very well-spoken and offered her counsel when needed.

“I didn't say that too. I'm still growing, aren't I? Things have been hard lately.. I needed some time to get used to it. One day I find myself betraying my friend, the next I'm married to his enemy's party. I'm surprised if he decided to spare me afterwards.” Scoffing rather impetuously, she always hated when she needed to choose a side. What's stopping from one betraying the other? Noticing she still had his necklace, she threw the silver trinket to his chest and huffed before beckoning for her horse to move a bit faster.

The latter offered his moment of curiosity and they both rode their horses in silence. Until he noticed a few movements by the trees not far off from where they were. “11 o clock, your left side,” he warned, his free hand making its way to his belt where his daggers and sword were kept.

“A scout. Keep your hands free, Eron. Let's get back.” A moment of realization hits Erika as she noticed the scout to bear familiar colors. She swore she saw the colors somewhere, once. While riding back to the town, it was only then that she remembered the signature signet adorning the scout's armor.

Lord Cuthred.

So the first thing she does when she returned, was marching up to the room where the brothers were lounging at. “I saw a scout in the woods. The colors he wore.. And the signature signet calls only one person I know. Lord Cuthred. He's from Sherborne.” The impending mumble that was followed by a pregnant silence however, indicated she was thinking of something.

“What is it? What are you thinking?” Ubbe urged.

“I'm just thinking of the scout. Lord Cuthred is from Sherborne. That's in Dorset, which is in the south west side of England. We are far up north, how could they know where we are already? I implore you to take heavy caution that they might already have a force waiting somewhere. They probably got the word of Wessex's defeat.” Which could mean that Aethelwulf could regroup. A part of her was relieved while the other part was worried on the possible outcome.

“Seems like we're not done fighting after all.” Ivar chuckled and the day passed quickly with them discussing their future plans, in case the Saxons regrouped and lead an attack on them. They had opted since York was heavily fortified, it was better to strike defense but Ivar had other plans in mind.

She listened to every detail intently, and was thoroughly amazed by the lengths he had solidified in the planning. It was all but suggestions but once carried out, would equal one of a victory. He was a growing strategist. For such a ruthless person to also possess a skill set of mindful intelligence? That frightens her. Nevertheless, the raven haired princess participated in the smooth and languid decorum of battle. Finding her to fit her namesake, Ivar decided to put Erika in charge for one that involves a lot of show. Fire.

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

A week passed and she had spent most of her time being cooped up in a room, planning the strikes where her part will take their respective spots. Everything was going according to the plan, although she couldn't say the same to the brothers. Apparently, Ubbe and Ivar were growing very tense with each other. First, the youngest Ragnarsson opted for bodyguards and planned a few matters on his own without discussing or consulting with his two older brothers. That gesture had irked the second eldest, Ubbe and annoyed a great amount from Hvitserk just as well.

Her relationship with Hvitserk was always on the count. She basked in the warmth he exuded and he does the same to her. Little by little, they learned more about one another. Like Eron would say, it was a progressive state.

She was woken up early this morning by the crippled brother himself when he told her to come with him. Despite her groggy state, she followed him afterwards. They settled in a tower, where Hvitserk and Ubbe then joined them shortly. Leaning against the wall, she followed Ivar's gaze and had to squint her eyes to detect the movements within the trees. There were quite a few. Have they come? From the corner of her eye, she saw them breaking into the fortified town thru the access of the west walls. They had made sure to leave them unattended in order to trap them. Even Erika had to admit that part of the plan was a brilliant tactic thought out.

However, her hazel hues twitched slightly when she caught the sight of Aethelwulf. That was not all. He had two younger males by his side. Two of which she saw to it to be so familiar. His sons. Her whole stature was rigid and tense. Clenching her jaw as she gritted her teeth silently, she muttered profanities under her breath as Ivar mocked her. Of course, the cripple would not miss out on this session. “He's brought his sons. What are you going to do, Lille Ild, hm? Might as well slaughter the sheep with the herd all at once. You know, to make sure they stay down.” The malicious remark let out by him left her no attention.

Her eyes were fixed on Aethelred and Alfred. How could he bring them with him. If Erika was in another situation at the moment, the frustrated woman would've slapped some sense into him. How did this even pass Judith's watchful hawk eyes. To his other side was a man she recognized from a few years ago. Bishop Heahmund. The Bishop of Sherborne. One that is known infamously for his skills. A Bishop Warrior, they dubbed him. A title that lived up to the standards too. She has never witnessed him fighting before, but from the stories that were told, it affirmed all her curiosity and put it all to rest.

“Come on.” Ubbe beckoned for them to get down to their respective positions. Noticing how his younger brother stood idly by beside Erika who still had her gaze glued to the the Saxon prince,  he called him again. “Hvitserk.”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, the flaxen haired prince patted it and beckoned for her to follow him just as well. “Come on.” And she followed both brothers down the stairs, trailing behind her husband with only one thing in her mind. How much she is going to kill Aethelwulf again and again. Now how exactly is she going to keep the Saxon princes safe and sound while battling them?

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

#hvitserk x oc #Hvitserk #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #Bjorn Ironside #ubbe #peirasmós

[xottzot]

2017-4(APR)-20-Thursday---(later later later)-no water.

2017-4(APR)-20-Thursday---(later later later)-no water.

Coming up to 12 hours without any mains water.......and by the Water Corporation (West Australia)'s own website of when the water was going to be stopped, it would have been 14 hours now, except it didn't really stop until sometime after the midday noon I think. (who checks their mains water in their house all during the day just to see if its still running?)

No water. All mention of there even being a 'problem' of having no water completely wiped from the Water Corporation (West Australia) website.

And this is also why I have long since lost trust in anything. ANYTHING.

I used to be trusting. I used to believe in things. I trusted people.

But I have been destroyed for being true and believing in anything or anyone and supporting them.

This water bullshit is just another spadeful of dirt thrown over the grave I am laying in but not yet quite dead.

I'm going to lay down now in bed.

I wonder if ants will be crawling over my body again as I lay there. Is that a foretaste of my future I wonder as did happen this morning in bed? - Fucking ants......

And will tomorrow bring more shitheads roaming about first thing onwards?

Or just the same shitheads roaming about as always and evermore? Invulnerable, indulged, fawned over, 'venerated', at the expense of all others trying to live normally and quietly.

According to the always totally unreliable weather forecasts for this hellhole, it's supposed to rain tomorrow late in the day onwards....maybe......with a possible storm....maybe......

Maybe that will help keep the shitheads from being all on the streets?

Maybe that will help stop the totally indulged feral toddler in a diaper from wandering all about (but I VERY much doubt that), and maybe wet weather will prevent the same toddler in a diaper from sitting down in the middle of the road as a huge trucks drives towards it.....I hope it doesn't.

And I can just imagine what might happen next......the mains power would go out to match the total loss of mains water here....as if things couldn't get bad enough......

And that's just it.....whenever things are bad....there's always another level of bad shit to heap upon it to make things worse....therefore....what's the point of anything?

What's the point of being kind, and truthful and loving someone when they throw you to the wolves and blame YOU for everything bad in their life despite you trying SO HARD in every way to be the loving person you always were and supporting them when all others abandoned them.....

I really miss not having my own guns for myself....at least one....with one bullet in it.......that's all......one bullet that works......just and only for me......

But like a fool, I was responsible and thought so very highly about the safety of others when I many years ago gave in my guns and mountains of ammunition....LONG before Mr Magoo the politician made it his bandwagon to beat Australia with. I did that because I felt responsible and mindful of others. - Fuck 'em all now.

Oh yes....he promised an Australia without guns...where criminals wouldn't have guns.........and so every honest person gave up their guns and ammunition.....but the criminals STILL have guns...and steal even more guns as has happened recently in Western Australia.......and Mr Magoo the retired politician is still venerated and no doubt will once more be given a position of power before he dies of old age.......then a massive taxpayer funded forced-tears driven panopoly of a state funeral for him at great expense depsite the old bastard being well off and so far out-of-touch of normal people that he has always been........

But then again, that describes a lot of the current shithead Prime Minister of Australia...who's so rich...but still accepts even more taxpayer money thrown at him whilst he lauds it all over everyone and tries to appear like a great sage...what a shithead.

And it also describes almost all? the wanna-be politicians of great power and decision making....shitheads the LOT of them....especially when it comes time to supposedly 're-elections farces'.........which is almost upon us yet again in Australia.......the same old shit from the same old lot, or as is being touted a 'great changes for the better'...new shit from the same new ones dressed up to be acceptible to the same old ones.....

And lets throw in the shitheads we all love to hate........such as the Abbot by name, Abbot by wanna-be nature..........the prince who would be king and be also blessed by all that is holy to boot.....his dreams come true....that's still cooking.......

Meanwhile the Police shoot dead somebody wielding a shotgun......and details remain oh so hushed up, and everyone is hopeful that nobody notices the lack of information publicly known. Anyone else notice that trend now in Australia?

'Death by cop'...is something that at first came to my mind when I read the initial NEWS report about that....because the shotgun was unloaded...apparently......but running around with a gun IS bad no matter what the situation, even worse in public, (even an empty public area), but that's how the world is now......things happen.....'facts' come afterwards.....and the facts are fashioned to suit the truths that are wanted to be known......

I'm in a world where it is a constant nightmare to be alive.......and I'm not allowed to wake up it seems and be with dear Fliss........

I'm mindful of that saying......"That the living shall envy the dead.".......and I remember how everything was troubled and getting worse and everytime I pointed that out I was yelled at almost blamed for creating it all.......which of course I was NOT and never had been.......

It's almost midnight and I've lost the downhill slide of being sleepy that I felt which I thought I could get to sleep.....I had very little sleep (as always now) last night, and I don't want another shitty night and day like that only to be 'rewarded' by having some shitty coporation disconnect some other vital piece of infrastructure around me that makes life even more hell that what it is this hellhole......

Oh, and I had a ticket in a raffle...the SAME raffle but a bigger one than I was so keen on winning with Fliss in 2015 so we could finally live the good lives together we rightly DESERVED after all the shit we'd had and I'd greatly helped Fliss overcome and cope with......

But I've been smashed aside like a empty booze bottle on the street......you know, like the untouchable shitheads that roam around here do......throwing and smashing shit on the roads........

I can almost guarentee that ANY lottery, or anything worth winning of, it will absolutely NOT have me be the winner simply because I tried to win it.......it's been the story of my life.....so why fucking do ANYTHING......every other fucker is selfish and does whatever the hell they want and they get miles ahead and don't give a fuck about anyone and anything.......I saw that shit happen to my late mother....and I saw how that crushed her so terribly.......

Dear Fliss (Felicity Anne Carthew) after I had told her of my dear mothers tragedy in her life and tragic events, Fliss always said to me that she had wished she had been able to meet my mother.........was that a lie?

And this is also why I have long since lost trust in anything. ANYTHING.

And this is also why I have long since lost trust in anyone. ANYONE.

P@00:00--20-April-2017-----fuck being alive. It's shit. - Envy the dead. No more suffering. -- And as an adendum to that it the saying might read, "Envy the dead for they are soon forgotten no matter how good they were."