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moeruhoshi · 5 years

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Concubine Au bc I’m feelin the sauce

“Kyoka,” Natsu called for his attendant as he stretched out of bed, his last piece of entertainment left lifeless under the sheets, blood dripping from the source on her neck he had his fill from. She sauntered into othe room moments later as he relied himself for a shower, gesturing the demo ness to do away with his last toy. She smiled sickly, eager to give the parts to lady for the strange girl to do whatever she wanted with.

“Jakal and Seilah have collected some more humans for you to choose from, I’m sure you’ll find some more enjoyment, Master E.N.D.” He waved a hand as he entered his bathroom, washing himself of the thick smell, tears and fluids along with sweat mixing on his chest and thighs. Humans never did last long when he toyed with them, it was more of a mundane excuse to ignore his work rather than an enjoyable moment, though he liked to get off on their screams. Either they lived long enough to keep him satisfied for a month or two, or if they bored him he would help himself to their blood and put them to rest. Not like they had a home to go back to after Jakal took the lives he wanted for himself. And Seilah had more than enough fun turning the humans from villages they pillaged into her puppets; to service herself or quickly have them do away with one another.

King of Demons, Entherious Natsu Dragneel. He rarely did anything other than make appearances to his people, goof off with others he knew in their realm, or fed from the humans his circle of allies had collected for him. Not as though they trusted one another, the hierarchy kept demons like Tempester or Jakal from acting out of line, not in a million years could either take the king in his full form. Tried, they may have before ending up back in Lamy’s test tubes for reincarnation.

He dried himself with his flames, dressing in loose clothing that he much preffered to his royal attire. Servants bowed as he made his way down the hall, Kyoka waiting by the stairs to take him to their dungeons, women shackled to the walls and whimpering for help they knew would never come. There was a larger room at the end of the cells on display, his chair a level above the ground as he observed upon those they dragged in for him to choose from.

“Pitiful,” They all looked, tired of the constant cries and shaking puppies having been his entertainment for who knew how long. He waved them away and requested more, each line duller than the last. He rested his chin on his fist, the demons nervous as he seemed to be getting angrier, readying themselves in case their king were to blow up. “Have you no one of interest? I’m tried of you bringing women to me simply for their looks.”

“One, Master, but we didn’t think you would care so much for her attitude,” He glared at Seilah as she spoke, ushering in for her to summon whoever they were keeping hidden.

“Let me go! You’re lucky I can’t kick you, or else you’d be done for!” The girl hissed from the other side of the door, men dragging her by chains connected to shackles around her wrists and ankles. She spat at Jakal as he grabbed her by the chin, the demon grunting and tossing her to the floor below their king.

“She deserves a good beating,” His pointed ears flinched as his master snapped, halting him from attacking her with a raised fist.

“Leave me with her,” His eyes interested and focused on her glare, excited to see a girl ready to challenge such a fierce demon.

“Where did they collect you from? You don’t look like the others who have passed through here before,” He hummed, delighted as she turned her nose up at his question, refusing to answer the demon.

“I like you, you know. You’re very beautiful,” He grinned as she flushed, squirming as she tried to bring her weighted arms forward to hide herself.

“I am much more than my beauty,” She grumbled, sealing her lips again as he stood from the obsidian throne.

“Oh, you are? I’d love to know more, you look as though you’ve experienced battle before. A mage?” He hopped down to circle her, noticing the binding provided by her chains that distilled the flow of magic from escaping its core. “Your power?”

“Celestial Spirits,” She answered, eyes cast down as he held he caressed a lock of her hair, soft.

“My men must have stolen your keys,” His eyes lit up as her desperate ones met his, hand traveling against the curve of her body. She was full and thick, throat rumbling with a satisfied growl as he peered at her plentiful body, mouth watering at the idea of her wrapped around him. “I know how precious they must be, you’d like them returned to you, no? Though I’m afraid you won’t be able to summon them either way. Can’t have you escaping, now can I?”

“You’d...give them back?” He nodded at her breathless words, her mind reeling a mile a minute as she refused to meet his gaze again, flushed as his hand continued to roam over her. “What’s the catch?”

“Catch?” He chuckled brightly. “There isn’t one necessarily but I hope you know that you are to stay by my side from now on. You’re much more interesting than anyone I’ve had yet to meet.”

“My friends won’t stop trying to find me, I hope you know. They’ll look for me till the day they die, even if it is by your hands. They will come for me,” She grit, chest swelling with excitement, he liked a challenge.

“I look forward to our time together until that day,” With a snap of her fingers, her chains disappeared and were replaced with a thick band around her neck, the choker a more simple version keeping her from being able to use her magic. She held her arms around her chest, white dress in tatters and about to fall from her shoulders much to Natsu’s pleasure. This one... he would take time stripping back her layers to be able to fill her mind with only the thought of him. This one, he wanted to conquer. He led her out of the doors they came through, Lucy grimacing at the sight of so many chained to walls, begging for mercy, clawing for her help, her stomach turning with disgust. They were quick to leave, Natsu impressed by the agony on her face, eager to make her twist and write in a similar manner. Kyoka was waiting for him per her usual actions, eyeing Lucy as he offered her to the demoness.

“Have her cleaned and brought to my room,” He instructed, turning down the hall and away without a worry about the girl. “Return her without a scratch, and give her back her keys. I’m sure she misses them.”

Natsu grinned as he continued on to find Mard Geer, relaying the message to keep the floor containing his chambers clear for the next couple of weeks to give he and his new toy privacy as he broke her in to their new lifestyle.

He waited patiently as he heard her feet padding through the hallway an hour later, a random servant showing her the way and leading her through his bedroom door. She flinched as the doors closed behind them, her keys clenched tightly in her fist.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t have me paraded around your castle while I wear this,” She lamented, gesturing to the thin, red, babydoll nightgown Kyoka had dressed her in.

“Forgive them for their lack of prudeness. Demons aren’t that shy when it comes to skin,” He said as he stood from his armchair beside the fire, taking her hand in his and gracing it with a soft kiss. “But I was right, you are very beautiful.”

“W-What do you intend to do with me?” Her brave exterior crumbled slightly as he massaged her hips, drawing her closer into his hold as they stood in front of the closed door.

“Tonight? Nothing much, since you’re a virgin.” She blushed at his knowledge, tapping his nose to indicate the aroma she gave him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable before our first time either,”

“And you expect me to just give myself away?” He smirked at her sharp tongue, he liked how feisty she was.

“Yes, my lady. You’ll beg for me in due time,” Her blush would never get old, it was very befitting.

“Lucy, address me properly if you’re going to keep me as a pet.” She huffed, following as he led her through the curtains past the main foyer and to his bed, allowing her to sit before his standing image.

“You’re much more than a pet, Lucy.” He pouted and took a seat beside her, the blonde fidgeting as she set her keys on his side table drawer. “Don’t hesitate to act as though this is your home. My demons won’t as much as look at you if that’s what you want.”

“You’re very strange for a man only after my body,” She huffed, crossing her arms. “What kindness befitting of a princess when I am your slave.”

“You intrigue me,” He hummed honestly, twrirling a stand of hair in between his fingers, taking in the delightful aroma of her fresh scent. “Please call yourself my princess if you wish. I intend to treat you well, believe me when I say this.”

“Foolish it would be to trust a man who had you kidnapped for his own desires. I refuse to give in to your games.” Her voice quieted as he stripped of his billowy shirt, avoiding the sight of his bare chest, not as though it was her first time seeing one, but the setting was too intimate for her comfort.

“Call me Natsu.” She tightened her lips as he pulled her into his lap, tilting her chin upwards to keep eye contact. “Your moans, I’m sure, would make it sound wonderful.”

“I could kick you like this, I hope you know.” Her foot twitched in anticipation but failed to comply with her brain, her confidence dropping without the aid of her magic.

“A kiss is all I ask for, you have such adorable lips.” Her heart stuttered at his clearly dramatic words, Lucy knowing his only intention was to get her to trust him with these overly sweet sayings but she was smarter than to fall for it. Her hand balanced herself by pressing a hand to his chest, nervously pulling back as he began to chuckle.

“Touch me if you are curious, I want to do the same.” She blanched at his honesty, the demon king still waiting for her to lean in and give him what he wanted. She turned away again, refusing to let herself be had so easily, thoughts moving away from him and to her dear friends back at home, willing to stick through this torture in hopes of finding them again one day.

“I would never give in so easily,” She mumbled out, holding in a whimper as his nose pressed against the crook of her neck, Natsu delighting himself with the concentrated scent of her blood. He splayed his tongue against her skin, moaning at the sweet flavor, feeling his boner thicken, already excited to have more than he promised her. But she would take time to win over, he had every intention of keeping her alive and well until he could fit himself so perfectly into her mind that she could not live without him.

“Your body is bad at hiding how you feel,” He chuckled at her subconscious movements against him, her back arching and chest flush against his own as he continued to tease her. “A kiss and we can go to bed for the night.”

She squeaked as he flipped them over, Lucy pressed firmly against the mattress as he loomed over her.

“A kiss, princess.”

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hovercraft79 · 5 years

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Winter Song

Ch 25 Carol of the Bells

Chapters: 25/31 Word Count: 5,228 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: Teen Warnings: mentions alcoholism, bitterness, death. It’s based on A Christmas Carol, there’s some darkness there, y’all.

Summary: Hecate lets her fears and temper get the best of her, throwing her whole reconciliation with Pippa into jeopardy. Her father, and three spirits, help her set things right.

Notes: Write about a holiday myth or legend, you say? Plagiarize Charles Dickens, I say! Sorry about all the angst that comes with that.

While not exactly a myth or legend, once this idea took hold, I couldn’t shake it. Certainly, a great debt is owed to the original – but an even greater debt is owed to the Palazzo young reader’s edition of A Christmas Carol that was abridged by Juliet Stanley. It’s well done and beautifully illustrated if you’ve got a young reader of your very own and would like to start a new tradition.

Trans-Siberian Orchestra does my all-time favorite version of this song.

Sparky returns from her holiday travels today. We can all rejoice.

This particular fic was written over a 24-hour time period – like, I haven’t slept in a hideous length of time, even for me. Please, if you spot any errors, be forgiving, but let me know. Thanks!

Hecate stared at her reflection in the mirror. The connection was dead, and she knew it. She’d cut the call herself and she wasn’t sad about that. She didn’t want to see any more of Pippa’s hurt, angry expression.

Their connection was dead, and she knew that, too. Dead by her own hand. Again. Exhaustion and worry had turned into cross words, a scolding for being so careless, a rejected invitation. Her own fears of losing Pippa morphed into a rigid silence guaranteed to push Pippa away. Again. This time, her own anger met with an equally angry Pippa. She would not allow herself to be sad about that.

Let their friendship be dead.

Just as it had been for most of the last thirty years.

It hurt less that way.

Hecate knew she was a difficult, uncompromising, and unsocial witch. She’d been described as cold many times in her life - was neither the first, nor likely the last. There was so much cold inside her it nipped her nose, hollowed her cheeks, stiffened her walk, made her lips purse and her voice icy. She knew the day the Founding Stone failed was not the only day she’d been frozen.

Nobody ever stopped her in the street to say, ‘Hello, Miss Hardbroom! How are you?’ No children asked her to tuck them in at night and no one ever asked Hecate to their birthday celebrations. But Hecate cared nothing about what others thought of her.

Hecate stood and moved to the window. It was a freezing, foggy Christmas Eve and she had work to do. She’d idled enough time away pretending she could be anything that made Pippa Pentangle’s life better. It was dark already, even though it was only a little after three o’clock. The fog was so dense that the trees of the forest looked like ghosts.

She needed to inventory the contents of her ingredient cupboard. Today seemed as good a time as any. She chose to walk instead of transfer, in the hopes that she would burn off some restless energy. She hoped the corridors would be empty. She did not get her wish.

“Merry Christmas, HB!” cried Dimity Drill, cheerfully falling into step beside Hecate. She’d obviously just flown in from somewhere – the frosty flight had given her a healthy, warm glow.

“What right do you have to be merry?” Hecate huffed. “You’re here.”

“What right do you have to be miserable?” Dimity grinned. “I’m only here for a bit.”

Hecate couldn’t come up with an answer, so she said, “Bats! And humbugs.”

“Don’t be cross, Hecate! It’s Christmas!”

“What else can I be,” returned Hecate, “when I live in such a stupid world. What’s Christmas when the Craft is in decline? When you have no fr—when you find yourself another year older but no better for it? If I had my way, I’d hex everyone who wished me a Merry Christmas.” She stopped and turned to face Dimity. “What good has Christmas ever done you?”

Dimity started to respond with a cutting, sarcastic remark, but the haunted look in Hecate’s eyes gave her pause. Something’s happened, she thought, and she’d bet her best broom that whatever it was, it involved a certain witch with a penchant for pink. “It’s the only time I know of when people seem to open up their hearts. So, Hecate, although it has never put money in my pocket, or a trophy on my mantel, I believe that it has done me good, and it will always do me good.” She placed a firm hand on Hecate’s elbow. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Hecate, but don’t be angry. Come and have dinner with us tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Miss Drill,” Hecate said, pulling away.

“Please come? Mum would love to see you. She still natters on about you helping to make all those cookies.”

“Goodbye,” said Hecate.

“Very well,” said Dimity, relenting. “Goodbye, Hecate, and Merry Christmas.”

Hecate transferred the rest of the way to her potions lab.

****

Hours later and Hecate’s mood had only darkened. Somehow, she’d allowed her potions stores to become recklessly low – even to the point of not being able to make commonly used remedies. Clearly, she had allowed Pippa Pentangle to become a distraction. Well, no more. Back to business as usual.

She flicked her wrist and the door to the ingredient cupboard closed and locked behind her. Flipping open her pocket watch, Hecate decided a quick bite from the kitchens would be her best option for the evening meal. Making her way to the door of the potions lab, she reached for the knob, drawing back sharply when she saw her father’s face.

Startled, Hecate cast an illumination spell, looking closely, however, she saw nothing but the normal knob. No face, no shadows…just a regular doorknob. Shaking her head, Hecate dismissed it as the result of being overemotional and overtired. She transferred to the kitchens and made a cold sandwich from some leftover roast and heated a bowl of nettle soup.

Once she finished, Hecate decided to make the long walk back to her rooms, hoping the empty corridors would provide some soothing familiarity for her jangled nerves. Unable to help herself, she checked each doorknob she passed. Every knob seemed its usual configuration. “Bats!” she spat, as she made her way to her rooms.

Arriving in her quarters, she closed the door with a bang. Remembering her father’s face on the doorknob, Hecate checked her rooms. She went through the sitting room. Nobody was under the table or the sofa. She inspected the bedroom. No one was in the cupboard, under the bed, or in her dressing gown.

Satisfied, Hecate got ready for bed and sat in front of the fire to read. She couldn’t concentrate, though, and found herself gazing absently into the flames, Pippa refusing to leave her thoughts. As Hecate stared, each tile around her fireplace filled with her dead father’s face. Almost at once, she heard the tinkling of a bell, much like the one she used to call time during lessons. Soon, bells all over Cackle’s were ringing.

Hecate had no idea how long the ringing lasted, but it felt like forever. Then it stopped. In the silence, Hecate heard a clanking noise coming from the old dungeons. It sounded as though someone was dragging a heavy chain across the stone floor. She could hear the noise getting closer and closer, until it sounded as though it was right outside her door.

“Bats and humbugs!” She said. “It’s just my imagination.”

Her color changed, though, when the door to her room flew open and in walked her father’s ghost. The room took on a chill, despite the roaring fire.

“W-who are you?” Hecate stammered.

“You know who I am, Daughter. Why do you doubt your senses?”

“Because,” said Hecate, “a stomach upset affects them. You may be an undigested bit of beef, or a piece of undercooked potato. You’re more gravy than grave, I think.” Hecate may have sounded brave, but she was trying to control her terror. The spirit of her father disturbed her down to her bones.

“Why are you here? Father?” Hecate asked.

Her father’s ghost stepped closer. “Anyone who does not share their spirit in life is doomed to wander through the world in death and witness what they might have shared on earth and turned into happiness.”

“But… the chains?”

“I wear the chain I made for myself in life, Daughter. You are making your own chains now.”

Hecate glanced down at her dressing gown, expecting to see chains, but none were there.

“Every withheld kindness, every rejected opportunity to connect with another… My spirit never left the confines of books and the Code and now… a weary journey lies before me. I would spare you that journey.”

“I’ve always followed the Code. I –”

“You will be haunted,” her father’s ghost interrupted, “by three spirits. Without their visits, you cannot avoid the same fate as mine. Expect the first one soon. For your own sake, Daughter, remember what I have said.”

Then, the ghost moved towards the window and it opened wide. Hecate followed. She heard confused noises in the air – the sounds of sadness, regret and pain. The ghost joined the choir and floated out into the night.

Hecate slammed the window shut and hurried to her bed. She magicked every light on and crawled under the blankets, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

****

When Hecate awoke, the room was so dark she could hardly see. The clock chimed midnight, though she knew it had been later than that when she went to bed. She felt groggy, knowing she couldn’t have slept through an entire day and into another night. She tried to remember the visit from her father’s ghost. It couldn’t have been real, could it?

When a bell struck one, the lights flashed on and off again and her bedroom door flew open. Hecate found herself face to face with another spirit.

Long, white hair framed a youthful face. A girl, Hecate thought, looking closer. Her arms and legs were bare, and she wore a tunic the color of her old Amulet’s Academy uniform. In one hand she held a fresh, green holly branch, in the other, a bundle of fresh herbs.

“Are you the spirit Father warned me about?” asked Hecate.

“I am,” the ghost replied, sounding very far away. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.” The ghost was holding a witch’s hat, but it was a crushed, moth-eaten thing, worse than Mildred Hubble’s hat ever was. “You don’t care for my hat? It was made by the behavior of people like you. I’m forced to wear it year after year.”

“I’m sorry,” Hecate whispered. “Why are you here?”

“To save you from yourself, of course,” she said, clasping Hecate’s arm gently. “Come with me.”

Hecate found herself transferred to the middle of a snow-filled courtyard. To their left, Hecate could see a group of girls in high spirits, laughing and playing together. Her muscles tensed. She recognized them at once: Agnes Monkshood, Piety Pendragon, Rosalyn Thornspike and the rest of her form.

“It’s end of term, though the school is not quite deserted,” said the ghost. “A lonely child, neglected by the others, is still there.”

“I know,” Hecate said, scrubbing a tear from her face. They walked to the school, entering a door in the back. There, in a long, bare room filled with desks, sat a lone girl with long, dark hair, reading. Hecate stiffened at the sight of her poor, forgotten self.

Suddenly, a vivacious blonde girl wearing a pink coat over her uniform, burst into the room. “That’s Pippa!” Hecate called out happily. “She was my friend.” Hecate smiled broadly as she watched her younger self be pulled out into the courtyard to join in with the others, Pippa’s hand never letting go.

“Let’s see another Christmas,” the ghost said, smiling.

Hecate’s former self grew larger, but there she was, alone again, when all the other girls had gone home for the holidays. She wasn’t reading now but looking nervously out of the window. Again, the door burst open. This time, a teenaged Pippa Pentangle darted in, flung her arms around her neck and kissed her on the cheek.

“If he doesn’t come, you really must come home with me, Hiccup! We can be together for Solstice and Yule and Christmas and we’ll have the happiest time in the world.” Pippa twirled around the room. “It will be fabulous!”

“She’s always had a large heart,” Hecate said fondly. She remembered their quarrel earlier today? Or yesterday? Shaking her head, Hecate murmured, “I’ll never understand what she saw in me.”

“Time grows short,” observed the spirit. “Come quickly!” Suddenly, they were in the Great Hall at Amulet’s Academy. Dozens of trees dripping with fairy lights lined the walls. The night sky twinkled against the ceiling while magical snow flurries filled the air. Hecate recognized it at once: The Winter Ball of her final year at Amulet’s.

Soon, music filled the room and the girls began streaming in to the celebration. They talked and hugged and danced and laughed. There was cake, cold roast, mince pies and plenty of hibiscus punch. Hecate watched as the girls enjoyed themselves, looking for a familiar flash of golden hair.

There! Hecate spotted them, in the prime of life. Pippa was beyond radiant. Her own face lacked the rigid lines that appeared over the years, but she already showed signs of worry and stress. In an instant, they were closer, and Hecate could see the hurt in Pippa’s eyes.

“But… Hiccup? We’re already here? You look beautiful, darling. Who cares what those other girls think?” Pippa frowned at the girls behind them. “Will you at least dance with me once? We’ve been practicing all term.”

“Pippa…I can’t…” Hecate watched her younger self, willing her to change history. To be brave for Pippa. “You don’t understand…”

“I don’t. I’m here. Those other girls don’t matter to me. At all. I don’t understand why they matter to you.” She stepped closer. “I’ve always been happy with you, Hiccup.” A crowd of girls spotted them and began calling Pippa’s name. She waved them off and stepped closer to Hecate. “I’m here with you, Hiccup. You.”

“That’s just it, Pipsqueak. You should be here with them.”

“But…” Pippa trailed off as Hecate exercised her new-found skill at transferring. “But I love you, Hiccup.”

Hecate clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a gasp. Pippa had loved her. Months before she’d derailed their lives by abandoning her at the broomstick waterski display, Pippa had loved her. “Spirit!” said Hecate in a broken voice. “Remove me from this place.”

Hecate found herself alone in her bedroom once again, every light ablaze. Sobbing, she flung herself into bed, soon sinking into a deep sleep.

****

When Hecate awoke, it was nearly one o’clock. She opened her bedroom door this time, so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise. Then she waited. And waited. Her stomach twisted in on itself as nothing happened. She turned and opened the window, leaning out into the cold air, still seeing no one.

Turning back into the room, Hecate noticed a strange light coming from the next room and a strange voice was calling her name. She stepped into her living room and saw that the walls and ceiling were covered in winter greenery and a mighty fire roared in the hearth. Her sofa and chairs were gone. In their place stood a large table, laden with a rich feast of meats, cakes, fruits and steaming bowls of wine. At the head of the table sat a jolly giant of a man. The man wore a loose green robe trimmed in white fur; on his head rested a crown of holly. His feet were bare and, in his hand, he carried a glowing torch.

“Well met, Spirit,” Hecate said, hand on her forehead.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,” smiled the spirit. “Touch my robe!”

Hecate did as she was told. Everything disappeared, and they stood on the snow-filled city street on Christmas morning. It was still cold and gloomy, but the people bustling about were cheerful, calling out to one another as they hurried to their destinations.

The spirit led Hecate through the city and straight to Mildred Hubble’s flat. Hecate could see that Julie Hubble had followed her instructions to the letter. A slim Yule tree stood in front of the patio door, a handful of presents arranged underneath. The candles danced brightly from their place in the Yule log. An evergreen wreath hung on the door.

Mildred sat on the floor, working on her potions notebook. Hecate frowned. On Christmas Day? Why wasn’t she opening packages?

“Millie!” Julie placed a platter of pancakes in the center of the table. “Put your schoolwork away, love. It’s Christmas.”

“But, Mum… I have to get caught up. I’m tired of being the worst witch at Cackle’s.”

“Worst witch? How can you say that, love? You’ve saved that school more times… And you are from a witching family. You’re nowhere near the worst witch.”

“I wish Miss Hardbroom thought so.”

“Don’t you worry about what old lady Hardbroom thinks about you, love. She’s not as perfect as she thinks she is.”

“But –”

“No buts, love.” Julie tapped the back of the chair with her spatula. “Now come get your pancakes before they get cold.”

Mildred sighed and closed her notebook. Flopping into her chair, she picked up the bay leaf that sat in the middle of her plate. “What’s this for?”

“It’s a tradition of some witching families.” She pulled out a marker and handed it to Mildred. “We write a wish on the leaf and then burn it to release the wish. I thought it sounded like a lovely tradition.”

Mildred took the marker, thought for a moment and then carefully wrote her wish on the leaf. Julie took the marker and did the same.

“Can I light it?” Mildred asked, pointing at the bowl Julie put between them.

“Certainly.” She started to hand Mildred a lighter but put it down when she saw her daughter casting a spell. In seconds, both leaves were burning, filling the kitchen with fragrance. “What was your wish, Millie-Bear?”

Mildred shrugged and started spreading butter on her pancake. “I wished that Miss Hardbroom didn’t hate me so much.”

“I don’t hate you, Mildred!” Hecate dropped to her knees next to Mildred’s chair. “I’ve never hated you.” Hecate turned to look at the spirit. “Does she truly believe I hate her, Spirit?”

“Unless something changes, the child will carry the feelings of isolation and inadequacy for all her days,” replied the ghost. “The Craft is in decline.”

Hecate winced upon hearing her own words turned back on to Mildred. “You are not the worst witch, Mildred Hubble. You are clever and resourceful and kind…” Everything she’d always considered Pippa Pentangle to be, she realized.

The spirit stepped closer, holding out an arm. Hecate nodded and climbed to her feet, clutching at his robe.

They appeared on the porch of a stone cottage. Warm light glowed through the windows, flooding into the garden along with the sounds of music and laughter. One laugh carried over the rest and Hecate recognized it immediately.

“She said she’d hex anybody that wished her Merry Christmas, if she could!” cried Dimity Drill, “and I think she would, too.”

A young man Hecate recognized as Dimity’s brother handed her a mug of wassail. “I don’t know how you put up with her, Dim-bulb.”

“Oi!” Dimity playfully punched him in the arm. “Actually, I like the old crone. A lot. I feel sorry for her, though. I couldn’t be angry with her if I tried.” Her brother scoffed at the idea. “S’true! She’s the one who suffers the most because of her attitude. That’s why I will always give her the same chance every year, whether she likes it or not. I just wish she’d pull the broomstick out of her arse long enough to realize she has friends – and a beautiful woman that’s head over heels for her.”

“Sounds like that woman is you, Sis!” her brother teased.

“You’re who needs a bloody hexing,” Dimity muttered, flicking a blob of magic into his wassail and causing it to splash all over his holiday sweater. “But I reckon if HB doesn’t figure things out soon, she’s gonna lose Pentangle all over again.”

“Wait!” Dimity’s brother shook his head. “They were dating? The glamor girl and Mistress of the Night?”

“Don’t call her that,” Dimity said, punching him again. “I don’t know what they were, but they were definitely something. And neither one of them ever got over it.”

After dinner, the spirit took Hecate to visit sick beds, and foreign lands, struggling people and poverty-stricken families – and all these places were rich with hope, friendliness, patience and love. Their last stop found Hecate standing in very familiar territory: Pippa’s rooms at Pentangle’s. She expected to find Pippa with her family, or singing along to modern Christmas music, or at the very least enjoying a quiet evening with friends.

She didn’t expect to see Pippa curled in a chair, wearing the purple sweater Hecate had loaned her weeks ago, her tear-streaked face glistening in the firelight. Hecate stepped closer. “Pipsqueak?” A tumbler of Witch’s Brew rested on her knee. Hecate tried to pry it from her grip, but her own fingers passed right through it. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry I was cross.” She looked around Pippa’s living room. Everything was a tasteful mix of pinks and blacks. Hecate saw her name embroidered on one of the stockings hanging from the mantel. Why couldn’t she just say ‘yes’ when Pippa had asked her to come for Christmas? “I’m sorry I was so me, Pipsqueak. You’ve always deserved more than I’ve given you.” She glanced down, seeing her signature prominently displayed on Pippa’s cast. It was still the only one there. “Please, Pippa… I’ll make it up…” She couldn’t even finish the thought. How do you make up skipping your first Christmas together in over thirty years? Hecate scrambled backwards as Pippa shoved herself to her feet.

“Merry Christmas, Hiccup. Maybe next year.” Pippa took a long gulp from the tumbler then threw what was left into the fireplace, unflinching in the face of the flareup. Without another word, she summoned her crutches and made her way to her bedroom.

“I didn’t…” Hecate turned to the spirit.

“Shall I wait while you hex her?”

A bell began to chime.

****

Hecate hardly had a chance to get her bearings before another phantom slowly and silently approached. She could see no face, no features. Everything was hidden under a black cloak, save one outstretched hand. The spirit’s mere presence filled Hecate with dread.

“W-well met, Spirit. Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Be?” Hecate pressed her hands against her thighs. “You are the spectre I fear above all others.”

The spirit said nothing. Its hand pointed straight out in front of them, but Hecate understood.

“Lead on, then,” Hecate said, resolutely determined to see tonight through.

The village seemed to spring up around them, the same but also different. Hecate found herself standing among a cluster of wizards and witches.

“No,” said a great fat wizard with a massive chin, “I don’t know much about it. I only know that she’s dead.”

“When did she die?” asked another.

“Last night, I think,” said another. “The funeral rites ought to be interesting.”

The crowd strolled away, and while Hecate hoped the spirit would explain, the spirit only pointed at two women. Hecate knew these women.

“Do you think she finally drank herself to death?” Dimity asked. “I don’t know how she lasted as long as she did.”

Marigold Mould shook her head. “I hope not. Do you think she knows yet?” Dimity shrugged her shoulders and hurried on through the cold.

They left the busy scene and went to a part of town Hecate had never been before. She knew it by reputation, though. The narrow streets were filled with crime and misery. As they watched, a lorry pulled up, boxes stacked haphazardly in the back. A dark-haired wizard came out of one of the shops.

“I didn’t think you’d be back with the goods this soon!”

“Well, when you don’t have any heirs fighting over yer ev’ry last button, it don’t take too long.”

The dark-haired wizard opened one of the boxes and had a look at what was inside. He offered a small sum of money for the lot.

Hecate shuddered. “Is the dead witch me, Spirit?” Suddenly, she was standing in a morgue, a sheet-covered body on a table before her. Hecate glanced at the phantom. Its steady hand pointed to the body. Hecate could easily have pulled the sheet away, revealing the face. But she couldn’t do it. “Please, can we leave this horrible place? Surely, someone is affected by this woman’s death.”

The phantom spread its dark robe and Hecate found herself in the middle of a launderette. Puzzled, Hecate studied the people inside. Who spent Christmas Day in a launderette? No one looked familiar, in fact, everyone seemed to be Ordinary. She was beginning to wonder if the spirit had made a mistake when she felt a slight prickle of magic on the back of her neck. She spun around and came face to face with Mildred Hubble.

Sort of.

Mildred stood outside the launderette, paintbrush in hand, as she repaired the painted window murals. Hecate couldn’t help but smile, even if she didn’t understand why Mildred was here, of all places. She found herself on the other side of the glass, examining the woman that Mildred had grown into.

Her clothes were well-worn, barely above ragged. In her thirties, Hecate guessed. She looked angry, her expression bitter and pinched. In the space of a heartbeat, Maud Spellbody appeared by her side.

“Millie! Your mum told me you’d be here.” Maud waited for Mildred to respond in some way. When she continued painting a snowman, Maud doggedly kept on talking. “Have you heard?”

“I’ve heard. Mum told me.” She finally dropped the brush to her side and looked at Maud. “What’s that got to do with me? You know I left the magic world. I do this now.”

“NO!” Hecate looked from Maud to Mildred and back again. “Left? How on earth did that happen?”

“I know. But I know you have to feel something, Millie. Even if it’s been a while.”

“It hasn’t been long enough,” Mildred snorted, taking up her paintbrush again. “You know I was never really a part of that world. HB told us all often enough.” She stepped up on a stool so that she could reach the top of the painting. “I have to work, Maud.”

“She left.” Hecate said, confused. “Why did you leave, Mildred Hubble? WHY?” Of course, Mildred didn’t answer.

Hecate turned to the spirit and found herself standing in the middle of a churchyard. The spirit pointed to one of the graves.

Dozens of witches and wizards in formal robes crowded around the grave. “Oh! See Spirit? People remembered. I was mourned!” Hecate pressed through the crowd, trying to see who had come. It didn’t take her long to realize that she didn’t recognize anyone.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” an older witch said. “She died all alone, heartbroken.”

“No heirs, no living family at all,” said another. “I heard she spent her entire life pining away for some mysterious lost love.”

“Pathetic.”

“It wasn’t pathetic!” Hecate shouted. “I never stopped loving her…” Hecate pushed through the crowd, still trying to hear everything being said about the woman in the grave.

“Drunk herself to death is what I heard, not that you could ever tell.” A sorrowful young wizard shook his head. “I never would have guessed it at school.”

Hecate froze. She every cell in her body turned to ice – it burned far more than it did when the Founding Stone died. Cackle’s didn’t allow boys. Hecate staggered to the front of the crowd, finally breaking through, the phantom back at her side.

The ghost said nothing and only pointed down at the grave. Following the finger, Hecate looked down at the headstone and read the inscription: PIPPA PENTANGLE.

“No… NO…” Hecate dropped to her knees, stomach churning. “Spirit, are these shadows of things that will be, or of things that only may be?” She clutched at the phantom’s robe. “I swear, I am not the witch I was before… I can change… I will change… I-I will value my friends, Spirit. I will tell her how I feel. I swear I will live a better life!”

But as Hecate clung to the phantom’s cloak, it shrank, collapsed, and dwindled down into a pillow.

****

Hecate saw that the pillow was her own. That the bed she was in was her own. In her own room. She scrambled out of bed. “I promise I will change,” she rasped. She was so hot and aflutter with good intention, and she had been sobbing so much as she had pleaded with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Be, that her broken voice could barely make a sound.

She raced through her quarters, eyes darting everywhere. Her things were still there. Her books still sat on the shelves. Her tea set still sat on the table. She spun around. Pippa’s snow globe still sat on the mantel.

Pippa.

Hecate ran back to her bedroom. As she hurried to dress, Hecate laughed and cried to herself. She turned her clothes inside out, then put them on back to front, forgetting she could simply magic herself dressed.

“No matter,” she said, rapping on her vanity mirror with her knuckles. “Dimity! Dimity Drill! Are you there?” She knocked impatiently until a half-asleep sports witch appeared on the other side.

“Bloody hell, HB, what do you want?”

Hecate sat up, suddenly afraid she was too late. “What day is it?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s Christmas Day, you batty old crone! What do you want?” Dimity tried opening her eyes wide, but she just couldn’t keep them that way.

“I’m not too late, then. May I still come for Christmas?”

“What?” That jarred Dimity into wakefulness. “Why?”

“I want to celebrate with my friends. Please, may I come? I’ll bring food.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can come,” Dimity said, rubbing her eyes. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Hecate bit her lip, working up the nerve to ask her next question. Dimity noticed.

“What else do you want?” she asked.

“Is it all right if I bring a guest?” Hecate waited, rocking back and forth slightly in her excitement.

“If I say yes, can I go back to sleep?” Dimity waved her hand at the mirror. “Whatever, HB. Yes, bring whoever you want.” And with that she closed the connection.

Hecate stared at her refection in the glass. The connection might be dead, she thought, but all it takes is a moment to make another one. Their connection was not dead.

It hadn’t been, not even over the last thirty years.

Their friendship would survive. Thrive, even.

It hurt too much to think of it any other way.

Hecate took a deep, steadying breath before tapping the glass. “Pippa Pentangle,” she said, clearly and calmly. Faster than she thought, Pippa was there. “Pipsqueak… I’m sorry…”

“Hiccup? Is that you? You look like a jumble sale.”

“That’s the one place I haven’t been tonight, actually,” Hecate grinned. “I wanted to… I know we quarreled, and it was my fault… but I wonder –”

Pippa held her hand up to the glass. “Yes. Whatever it is you’re about to ask, yes.”

Hecate placed her hand on the glass against Pippa’s. “I want to spend Christmas with you, Pipsqueak, if you will.”

Pippa’s response was drowned out by the sound of church bells ringing in the village below, so she nodded. Vigorously. “Happy Christmas!” she said once they stopped.

“Happy Christmas, Pippa, and may the spirits bless us, everyone.”

#ww2018winterfluffevent #alcohol abuse and bitterness warnings #hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #pippa pentangle #ghosts

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botwriter · 7 years

Text

Masked - Chapter 4, the Masquerade

Read this on FF.net ☛

The annual gala was as uninteresting as ever - but this time, they had to wear masks. Still, it was impossible not to tell who some people were; the King of course stood out from everyone, as did Zelda, with her long blonde hair and green eyes peeking out from under a silver mask. The ballroom had been completely decked out, which at the very least was very pretty. The lights were quite dim, and gold and silver streamers filled the high ceiling, sparkling in candlelight. There was a great spread as always, and Zelda had already helped herself to a slice (or two) of her favourite fruit tart. Otherwise, she was left to do nothing but dance with a variety of knights and nobility who played the "who can get to her first" game every time a new song began.

Another song ended, and once again, the crowd shuffled. Zelda was becoming increasingly antsy, not to mention her back hurt quite a bit still from the kick she'd received earlier - climbing down a couple stories on the outside of the castle had probably not helped with her recovery. She subtly glanced back at the candles. They had burned down quite a bit… surely the dancing would be over soon, and then she could excuse herself.

Another young man positioned himself in front of her, not eagerly or aggressively like many were prone to, but politely and with a deep bow. He was in black dress robes like the others, and as he stood, Zelda could see the thin black mask he wore over his eyes and nose. A few loose blond strands fell over his mask, but otherwise his hair was swept away into a tight ponytail. When she met his blue eyes, her heart jumped - she knew those eyes. But the mask covering his nose and brow was tough to see past, not to mention the hairstyle not being one she recognized…

She nearly forgot to curtsy back, and did so quite quickly, lifting the hem of her dress before offering her hand to the young man. With the faintest smile, he took her hand and her waist carefully, and began leading the two of them in a swaying dance to match the waltz that had begun to play.

"Have I met you before?" Zelda asked in an apologetic tone, thinking it must have been a knight trainee she'd met once, a while ago. The idea that he could be Robin - no, Link - was beyond her. She couldn't picture him as anything else but a hooded figure with a bow strapped over his back. "Your eyes… are familiar."

"I think you'll find my voice is, too," he said softly, tilting his head at her with another smile as they turned. His ponytail swept sideways, just barely sitting over his shoulder, and they continued moving in another circle. Her eyes widened. Damn it - that voice - she had heard it recently. Was he one of the knights from earlier?

"Too bad it's a masquerade," he added then, shrugging a little bit.

"That's not fair," Zelda protested, but a moment later he dipped her so low that she felt her hair brush against the tile. His hand stayed pressed on her back, and she clutched his shoulder, hoping her hand wouldn't slip. When she looked back up to meet his eyes, she realised their faces were inches apart.

"Sure it's fair - you're wearing a mask, too," he muttered, looking at her intently.

Heat flooded her cheeks. Who does he think-

She winced, suddenly interrupted by her own pain. The man quickly lifted her back up, and she took a moment to steady herself.

"I'm sorry - I forgot," he said hurriedly, looking at her with a worried expression. A few more blond hairs escaped, falling down over his mask; he moved to keep dancing, and Zelda followed absently, suddenly distracted as she stared at him. He was peering warily at the surrounding knights. No way...

"Link…?" she asked, keeping her voice low. It had to be. He looked back at her in surprise, mouth dropped open. Zelda felt a bit of accomplishment seeing colour spread across his cheekbones.

"That's - how did you find out my real name?"

"One of the knights in the dungeons told me," Zelda explained casually, "but you weren't there."

"So that's why you weren't in your room!" he exclaimed suddenly, and Zelda couldn't keep her jaw from dropping.

"You went to my room?"

"I was trying to find you. Listen, I can explain everything, but we have to talk privately," he whispered, spinning her out a moment later as the song hit its ending note. Her eyes landed on the sword sheathed under his robes, visible for just a moment - and then as she glanced around, noticed that all of the knights were holding their weapons. She looked at Link in confusion, but he only stared back at her pleadingly. It would be the only way to talk without putting both of them at risk, so Zelda gave him a curt nod. Still holding his hand, she began to lead them back through the ballroom, leaving a trail of confused and disappointed nobility men as they went.

The King was thankfully quite distracted as she pulled Link through the back doors and up into the royal quarters. A few knights passed them in the hallways, but not many, and none of them seemed to recognize Link. Thank Hylia for these masks.

When they finally arrived in her room, Zelda shut and locked the doors behind them before taking off her mask and scarf.

"That's better," she sighed, "that was so itchy."

When she looked back at Link, he was holding his mask in one hand and staring at her - for a moment she was ready to slap him, since his eyes were a bit lower than she expected - but he walked forward and gingerly touched just above her collarbone where she had been cut. Zelda was too surprised to move, but also, part of her didn't mind him being so close. There was something… safe about him.

"I was too late," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

Zelda swallowed, reaching up and holding his hand in both of hers.

"It's okay. It's my fault for leaving. I'm sorry… for making you worry," she said quietly, squeezing his hand a little bit. He lifted his head to look at her, and the two of them stood quite close before Zelda quickly changed the topic.

"So, L- Link, the sword?" she stammered, letting go of his hand and sitting herself on the edge of her bed. "And why did all the knights downstairs have their weapons?"

"Right," he exclaimed, sounding a little breathless. He pulled it out from its sheath and laid it down on the trunk at the end of her bed. Even in the dim of the room, it seemed to shine a little. Zelda touched the blade carefully as Link began his story.

"First off, the knights have their weapons because they knew I'd escaped and would be trying to get into the masquerade. But they're not all, uh... as competent as they could be. No offense, Princess."

"None taken," Zelda replied bluntly, thoroughly aware of the occasional and surprising incompetence of her 'trained' knights. Most, she was sure, knew what they were doing - but one or two slacking off was all it took for Link to sneak into the ball, apparently. She watched him expectantly, still waiting for the rest of his story.

"Oh. Right. I've been… doing those 'Robin Hood' things for a couple years... a few months ago, I felt this calling to go to the Korok Forest. I don't know why, or how to explain it, but I found myself at the great Deku Tree. It spoke to me, and the sword was there, and… it chose me," he rambled. Zelda gave him a curious look. So he wasn't exactly a storyteller. At least he was concise.

"Do you know the legends?"

He nodded, silent, not meeting her eyes. He looked entirely disheartened as he slumped against the wall across from the bed.

"The… sword that seals the darkness. To fight Calamity Ganon with. Right?"

He glanced up at her to check, and Zelda replied with just a nod. He was silent in response, but she could tell he was deep in thought, staring down at the floor.

"Come here," she urged, patting the bed next to her. Hylia, don't make me regret this.

Hesitantly, he moved to sit on the bed next to her, and Zelda took hold of his hands once more, stroking the tops with the tips of her thumbs. It seemed to calm him down a bit, but she was trying to comfort herself at the same time, and… something about being close to him felt… right.

"I'm scared too," she admitted. "I don't even have the sealing power awakened yet. At least you have your sword, and knight training," she reassured him, but Link only looked at her worriedly.

"How do we fight him? We're just - I mean, we're barely adults," he fretted, and Zelda could only smile sympathetically. He was so confident on the battlefield, but Ganon was a different beast entirely.

"We get help," she answered, "from the other four Champions. You'll meet them, now that you're one of us."

"Us?"

"Revali, Mipha, Urbosa, and Daruk… they pilot the four Divine Beasts," she explained with a smile, "massive, Sheikah-made contraptions."

"Right, that's what helped seal Ganon away a thousand years ago," Link added, looking a little more hopeful now. Zelda nodded.

"Yes. And… two incarnations of us," she sighed, "but the me back then had her sealing power… there's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you!"

Link lifted her hands, squeezing them tight between his. He met her gaze with determination.

"You're inspiring. The entire kingdom knows how hard you work. Everyone knows it. I'm positive you'll figure it out."

His words were genuine, there was no doubting that. Zelda felt herself tearing up. She heard it all the time from other nobility, from her father, but for some reason hearing it from him seemed to make her want to believe it more. Was it because he was the same as her? Destined for something without asking for it? Like the universe had chosen a fate for them, of which there was no escape… all they could do was try to make it a happy ending.

Link was still looking at her steadily, and as she looked back, she felt like she could get lost in his eyes quite easily. They were blue as Lake Hylia, but deep as the sea. Finally, she seemed to have someone she could relate to- someone like her, dealing with the pressure of having to save Hyrule from a massive, unspeakable calamity that would befall them at any given moment. It felt like whatever weight she'd had on her shoulders was suddenly just a little bit lighter… but it went a long ways.

"Thank you," she finally said, fighting to not let her tears fall. At the same time, they both leaned forwards, til just their foreheads were touching, eyes falling shut. There was something unspoken between them, and Zelda was happy to sink away in it.

"We'll be okay," he whispered, his voice breaking a little bit. Zelda had barely heard him. She was falling asleep, even as Link intertwined their fingers. She wanted to just fall asleep and wake up in the morning and have everything be okay. Everything was okay in the moment, but she knew it wouldn't last. Tomorrow would come and there would be explaining to do and consequences to face. But the two of them, right now, at least, were safe.

"Zelda?" he asked, but as he pulled his head away she fell forwards, jerking back up a moment later.

"Mm? I'm sorry," she mumbled, wiping at her eyes.

"It's okay. I should get out of here," he sighed, but as he stood from the bed, Zelda reached forward to take hold of his finger tips. Link looked back over his shoulder at her, and she kept her eyes on his.

"Can you stay?"

"Wh- are you-"

"Do you want to stay?" she asked, suddenly sounding more coherent, like she was getting ready for the disappointment of him saying no. And really, she wouldn't have blamed him... she had never invited anyone to stay in her quarters. It was absolutely forbidden. If they were caught, who knows what would happen... but in the moment, Zelda didn't care. She liked how comfortable she felt just having him next to her.

She waited for him to pull away, but Link didn't budge. His fingers twitched against hers.

"...yes, I want to."

Green eyes met blue, and Zelda gave him a sleepy smile.

"Thanks."

They fell asleep, still clothed above the covers, facing each other. Link's arm was outstretched, hand clasped comfortably in Zelda's. They were safe in the tower, thanks to the locked doors and labyrinth-like hallways between it and the ballroom. The two of them got the best rest they'd had in nights, blissfully unaware of the happenings downstairs.

Hyrule Castle was under siege.

#warning: high levels of fluff ahead #zelink #zelink fanfic #botw #breath of the wild #masked

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