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chimerazodiac · 2 years

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Angel Quotes

Abner:

"I'm not a wise man, Gadreel. But I know this. The key to happiness? It's getting the one thing you want most and never letting it go."

Adina:

Akobel:

"Humans aren't animals. Most of them are good and true, and... how could anyone know them and not love them?"

Ambriel:

Anael:

"We're all lonely, because we're all alone."

"I was a so-so angel, but turns out I am an excellent businesswoman."

Anna:

"You're too good for my help. I'm just trash... A walking blasphemy."

"I was stationed on Earth 2,000 years... just... watching. Silent... invisible... out on the road... sick for home...waiting on orders from an unknowable father I can't begin to understand."

"I'm an angel."

Balthazar:

"You've always got little old me."

"We're brothers, of course I want to help you."

Bartholomew:

"There can be no peace without bloodshed."

Benjamin 《Castiel's Faction》:

Benjamin 《Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets》:

Castiel

"Freedom is a length of rope. God wants you to hang yourself with it."

"I'm an angel of the lord."

"Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier."

"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder."

Conrad:

Constantine:

Daniel:

Dumah:

Efram:

Elijah:

Ephraim:

Eremiel:

Esper:

Esther:

"I don't have parents. I'm an angel."

'Flagstaff':

"You thinking you help people – it's amusing. I help people. A clogged artery here, a tumor there. I do good in this world. You – you believe every problem can be solved with a gun. You play the hero, but underneath the hype, you're a killer with oceans of blood on his hands. I hate men like you."

Gabriel:

"What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner."

"I can't kill my brother."

Gadreel:

"When they say my name perhaps I will be remembered, not as the one who let the serpent in but as one of the few who helped give Heaven a second chance."

Hael:

"There's a place. I built it when I was last here - many years ago. A grand canyon."

"What's an angel without its wings?"

Hannah:

"Being on Earth, working with you. I felt things, human things – passions, hungers. To shower, feel water on my skin, to get closer to you. But all of that was nothing compared to what I felt when I saw him. Her husband, his anger and his grief. Caroline was inside me screaming out for him, for her life back. These feelings they aren't for me, for us. They belong to her. I know it's time to step aside."

"It's hard letting go... of a story, a mission. But what of the humans whose lives we sacrifice in the name of that mission? We always said the humans were our original mission. Maybe it's time, Castiel - time to put them first."

Hester:

"The very touch of you corrupts! When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!"

"No more madness! No more promises! No more new Gods! You wanted free will. Now I'm making the choices."

Hozai:

Indra:

"Look, I could uh get it together to uh battle, if you want. I mean, none of the angels are exactly thrilled with your uh 'ongoing adventures.' But personally? Nah... Hey, hey, between us, if you wanna just... say we fought and angel blade me right now? That'll be okay."

Ingrid:

Inias:

"No! There are so few of us left!"

Ion:

"I always knew too much. I had to do my job."

Ishim:

Jack Kline:

Jane:

"I try to be nice. I just want to live my life."

Jonah:

Joshua:

"I'm rooting for you boys! I wish I could do more to help you, I do, but... I just trim the hedges."

Kelvin:

Lily:

"He deserved better."

Lucifer:

"I was a son. A brother, like you. A younger brother. And I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. And one day, I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael... Michael turned on me. Called me a freak. A monster. And then he beat me down. All because I was different. Because I had a mind of my own."

Malachi:

Metatron:

Michael:

"Think of a million random acts of chance that let John and Mary be born, to meet, to fall in love, to have the two of you. Think of the million random choices that you make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it's not random, it's not chance. It's a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will's an illusion, Dean. That's why you're going to say yes."

"You're wrong. Lucifer defied our father, and he betrayed me, but still... I don't want this anymore than you would want to kill Sam. You know, my brother--I practically raised him. I took care of him in a way that most people could never understand, and I still love him. But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to."

Mirabel:

Miriam:

"You take things and break things and piss people off and just do whatever you want, no matter who it hurts."

Muriel:

"Virtue is its own punishment."

Naomi:

"Our mission was to protect what God created... I don't know when we forgot that."

Neil:

Nithael:

Rachel:

Raphael:

"We're tired. We just want it to be over. We just want... Paradise... And whatever we want, we get!"

"That's my father you're talking about."

Samandriel:

"You know, there are some in Heaven who still believe, despite his mistakes, that Castiel's heart was always in the right place."

"We guard the souls in Heaven. We don't horse-trade them."

Serafina:

Thaddeus:

"Why be an angel when you can be a god"

"Bitch did I stutter"

Theo:

Tyrus:

Uriel:

"The only thing that can kill an angel, is another angel."

Virgil:

"I am the weapons keeper of heaven."

Zachariah:

"Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them."

(Feel free to remind me of any other angel quotes if I missed any! It's a work in progress)

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avrablake · 2 years

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Stuff in my wip 3

Thanks for the tag @emelkae!

I did one of these for Beyond the Darkness and another one for Nightshade.

So now I’m going to take the opportunity to brain dump some ideas for my Merpeople and Space Angels wip.

Everything is still just brainstorming at this point, but some things that may or may not eventually make it into this wip include:

Merpeople

I want them to be more fish-like, rather than the typical human with a fish tail. Something like kinda like this

Their magic can control waves and currents and can influence less intelligent sea creatures

Sunlight hurts their eyes so they mostly surface at night

I would love to incorporate lots of bioluminescence because it’s pretty and cool and I can

they communicate telepathically (because how else would magical creatures communicate underwater) as well as using body language and hand signals.

what if they were also space aliens? Like a long time ago? But it’s not common knowledge among modern merpeople

Maybe Finn and Ambriel learn about it and the people in charge are not happy

Maybe they try to have Ambriel killed

Angel-like space aliens

they use some kind of combination of magic and technology

maybe they developed some tech to amplify or regulate their magic, and over time became so reliant on it that they can no longer use their magic without it

maybe Ambriel has to learn to use magic naturally while she’s stuck on Earth

maybe their skin/hair/eye color changes when they are sick or severely injured

wings are magic rather than biological

maybe she modifies her tech so she can communicate with the merpeople and so she can breathe underwater

maybe her species is empathic

maybe they create a special emotional bond with someone once in a lifetime. Maybe this is expected to be reserved for a romantic partner. But Ambriel ends up forming this bond platonically with Finn

Maybe someone from her family comes for her at some point and they are not happy

Other ideas

the ocean is a weird, freaky place. So many things in the ocean look like they came from space

I want Ambriel to freak out over some very benign ocean thing because it looks like a deadly alien creature

there needs to be a lot of really random interactions with really random sea creatures

sharks and rays as the dogs of the ocean

there must be sunfish. because they are stupid and I love them.

platonic found family. Maybe they will adopt a human.

Maybe there will be other mythological creatures

Sorry I don’t have anything remotely resembling a plot yet. This will very likely end up being what I do when I need a distraction from all the angst of my other wips. It will probably get weird.

Open tag for anyone who hasn’t done this yet.

#tag game #stuff in my wip #merpeople and space angels

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castiel-kline · 3 years

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cas and balthazar meet again post finale

This one really got away from me, and it got really long. I promise it does answer the prompt but I also made it super plotty for some reason. I hope you don’t mind!

Being taken by the Empty didn’t feel like dying.

Of course, that’s what was happening to him, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt cold, and painful, and vengeful. Lonely and miserable and laced with glittering knives of regret.

It was his damnation. Not the traditional sense of the word, but true nonetheless.

But if facing it meant he’d save his family? Save Jack from being subject to the same fate? He’d damn himself to this a thousand times over, without a single shred of hesitation.

The Empty had him entirely covered in its goo, tendrils snaking under his skin and into his body from every angle. In through the eyes, the nose, snaking down his throat. Under the fingernails, into the ears, scraping through the tattered remnants of his grace and pressing down around his true form.

It was agony.

Eventually it subsided, and some of the inky tendrils retracted, leaving him gasping for air that neither existed in this realm nor was truly necessary. He collapsed in a heap, the Empty bubbling around him. He spared a glance up, wondering if the Shadow were nearby to gloat before sending them both into slumber. What he saw… well. Unexpected didn’t quite cover it.

“Jack?”

“Hmm. Guess again, Castiel.”

“No.” Don’t you dare look like him.

“Oh, yes. Because it hurts you to look at him, doesn’t it?” The Shadow leaned down, condescension clear as day in its every move. So wrong on Jack’s face that it twisted something deep within him. It stared him down, watching him squirm, mania-painted smirk stretching wider. “Good. I want you to suffer, so that’s what you’re going to do.”

“I thought you wanted your peace and quiet,” Cas managed, as more tendrils snaked out over his wrists and ankles. Dragging him a little bit further down, completely at the Empty’s mercy. Somehow he suspected that was the point.

The Shadow straightened, looking down Jack’s nose at him.

“Of course I do,” It said, emulating Jack’s earnestness. Liar. “But I can’t!”

“What?”

“Wonderboy-” the Shadow gesticulated wildly in the direction of its facsimile body “-woke everybody up when he exploded all over me. So I don’t get to sleep, no, and if I don’t get to sleep then you definitely don’t get to sleep. None at all.”

Quicker than a blink, the Shadow had fisted Castiel’s collar in its hands, bringing their faces inches apart.

“At least,” It whispered, eyes wild with an energy Jack had never, and would never, possess. “I get to make you suffer like you’ve made me suffer. So I want you to look at this face, Castiel. Look at it, and know that it’s contorted in tears right now because Papa Bear abandoned him.”

The Shadow threw him down, the goo swallowing him right back up. Submerged in the dark, he scarcely felt its weight. He was too busy drowning in a fresh cascade of guilt.

It yanked him back up, tendrils leaving him suspended in the middle of nothing. Some of them twisted at his feathers, pulling them just enough to be excruciating but not enough to rip them free. He screamed.

“Be quiet!” The Empty released him, and Cas fell back down, every fibre of his being crying out in pain.

The Shadow cackled, everything about it from the pitch to the cadence to the intention screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You’re never going to regret this, are you?”

Cas glared at it, mustering up as much defiance as he could.

“No,” he croaked. “Because saving my family? That’s worth dying a thousand deaths.”

The Shadow doubled over laughing again. Then, quick as a blink, kicked him across the face, sending him reeling backwards.

“‘Die a thousand deaths’? Please. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Castiel pushed himself back up, following the Shadow’s pacing with his eyes. It walked with one arm tucked behind its back, the other gesticulating as it spoke.

“Death isn’t going to be enough for you, hmm. Oh, you know what you’ve never been able to take?” It spun back around, grinning down at him. “You can’t stand seeing the pain you’ve caused. And since you can’t see what’s left of your precious little family- not that they even care that you died, by the way- how would you feel about seeing the angels again?”

No. He must have looked visibly afraid, because the Shadow only smiled wider.

“Not so pleasant a thought, hmm? Seeing as you killed most of them.” It laughed again, clapping its hands in an expression of glee that would have been endearing coming from Jack, but now simply served to be disturbing. “Oh, yes. It’ll be just like throwing a scrap of meat to a pack of starving dogs.”

Cas shook his head, but the Empty pressed on. It waved its hand, and Castiel was thrown some immeasurable distance away. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and watched in horror as the ground bubbled around him, and his brothers and sisters began to crawl their way out.

He recognized them, of course, because he’d taken care to never forget a single name. He saw Hael first, then Bartholomew, then Jonah and Efram and Ambriel and Samandriel. He saw Raphael, Uriel, Anna, Jophiel. He scrambled to his feet, unable to do anything but watch and wait for their wrath to undoubtedly descend upon him.

Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled, running and dragging Castiel with them. He didn’t fight it, figuring that whoever had him was going to inflict a world of pain and there wasn’t a thing to do but accept it. They’d gone a fair distance, if there was such a thing as distance in nothing, before they stopped and Cas turned to face who had taken him.

“Balthazar?” His voice came out strangled, as scarcely more than a whisper.

“Cas,” Balthazar said, staring at him with something unreadable in his eyes. “Your wings…”

“Balthazar,” Cas repeated, finding himself unable to say anything else, mind swirling in an inescapable vortex of grief and guilt and pain. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry.”

“What, for killing me? You weren’t yourself.”

“I was. That’s the problem.”

Balthazar just shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a stab in the back to get rid of me. You do know that, right?”

“If we weren’t already dead I’d offer you my blade to kill me. I deserve nothing more.”

“Castiel.” Cas forced himself to meet Balthazar’s eyes directly. “I know you, and so I forgive you. As I’ve told you before- nothing’s changed.”

Cas smiled bitterly. “Except me.”

“What happened to you?” Balthazar’s fingers traced the air where Castiel’s wings lay mangled and twisted in another dimension. “You look like you’ve been clawed apart by feral house cats.”

“I destroyed everything, Balthazar. So many times.” And he felt like he was being crushed under the weight of all his mistakes. Perhaps this was the torture the Empty preferred for him- giving him back a lost friend, giving him forgiveness- and then ripping it away again. Surely even someone as loyal as Balthazar wouldn’t want to associate with him after learning of the things he’d done.

“You, Cassie? I’ve only ever known you to do what’s right.”

“How can you say that when you saw me make one of my biggest mistakes? When I killed you because of it?”

Balthazar scoffed. “Mistake? Cas, you were trying to stop our control freak of an older brother from letting the other ones out to destroy the world. What about that is a mistake? Sure, Crowley was a bit of a snake, but come on. It can’t have been so long that you’ve forgotten your good intentions.”

Cas didn’t say a word, and Balthazar narrowed his eyes. “How long has it been, Cas?”

Cas sighed. “Nine years.”

“Nine years.” Balthazar’s eyebrows had shot all the way up. “Wow. Not long at all. So what could… no. Tell me you weren’t.”

Castiel frowned. “Weren’t what?”

“Weren’t still kissing the Winchesters’ asses for the whole nine years.”

“They’re my friends, Balthazar.”

“Oh, really?” Balthazar crossed his arms. “If they’re your friends, why did they treat you like one of the guns they keep in the trunk of their wretched car?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it, Cas?” Balthazar sighed, backing down a little. Nine years of death wouldn’t stop them from bickering, it seemed, though he did put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. An uncharacteristic attempt to show solidarity through the sarcasm.

“Look,” Balthazar continued. “What you do is your business, but… just tell me there was something good in those years. That it wasn’t just you running around trying to prove yourself to them.”

There was something, in fact, something he’d never expected. Something beautiful.

“I had a son,” he admitted. He’d often wondered what Jack would be like meeting angels that weren’t hell-bent on killing him. He’d imagined Jack meeting Balthazar, or Hannah, or Rachel or Samandriel, but it would never come to fruition. The best he would get was telling them about him, assuming he would be able to escape being choked and stretched and drowned by the depths of the Empty for all eternity.

“Why, Cassie, I’m impressed,” Balthazar said wryly. Oh no. Before Cas could interject and explain, Balthazar continued. “Looks like you really did get that stick out of your ass. And you put it right up-”

“Balthazar! He’s not mine, not like that. He chose me, and his mother was a friend. That’s all.”

Balthazar seemed to enjoy how flustered he was, but his tone was serious. “You adopted a human child?”

“No, he’s a nephilim.”

“Ah,” Balthazar said. “So they changed the rules regarding them in the past nine years, then?”

“No,” Cas said again, getting frustrated. He’d forgotten how much Balthazar loved to hear himself speak. Even if he had missed it, it was still mildly insufferable.

“Well, you rebel Cas, you. But, ah- who was the sire?”

Cas winced. “Lucifer.”

“Oh, my. That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah. Jack’s nothing like him, though. He’s… he’s very much like his mother. And I like to think he’s a little bit like me, too.”

Balthazar looked at him, somehow still reading him like a book after all this time.

“You spoil the poor child, don’t you?”

“I most certainly do not,” Cas huffed.

“Oh, yes you do. You’ve always been soft, but now you’re practically a down pillow.”

Cas’ smile was sadder, again. “I told you I’ve changed.”

“Maybe so. But we haven’t.”

“Thank you.”

Balthazar smiled. “I do have one question though, Cas.”

“Of course.”

“How did you die?”

Well. He supposed it would have had to be asked eventually. Unfortunately his hesitation gave Balthazar another opportunity to talk over him.

“Please don’t tell me it was for the Winchesters.”

“I love them.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. And unfortunately I love that about you. Well, go on. Tell me a story.”

Cas shrugged. “I made a deal with the Empty. My life for Jack’s, which- it wasn’t even a question. It said that when I was finally happy, it would take me.”

Balthazar frowned. “What did you in?”

“You know, I’m not really sure. But I managed to save Dean, and that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, Cas,” Balthazar muttered, sounding deeply sad. “Well, at least you were clearly a better father than our dear old absent God. That much is clear.”

Cas’ heart sank. He couldn’t not tell him, though he didn’t necessarily want to break the news.

“Balthazar.”

“What?”

“Um. A lot has happened since I’ve last seen you, and there’s a lot you need to know, but God- God was never on our side.”

--------

They walked aimlessly through the Empty, keeping aware for signs of their siblings or the Shadow, but oddly finding none.

“Well then,” Balthazar said, flippant as ever. Cas was nearly sure he was deflecting.

“That’s all you have to say? You’re not angry?”

“Nope.” Forced cheerfulness. “Never liked him anyway. Frankly, I’m surprised you even met the man.”

Cas paused and stopped moving, feeling something tugging at his grace.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Balthazar had stopped too, hovering closer.

A pocket of the nothingness in front of them seemed to pull itself inward, caving in like a black hole and then cracking open just a bit. Was this what it looked like when someone died and came to the Empty?

Hopefully not, because the distortion cleared and Jack was standing there. And it was painfully, obviously Jack, clearly indicated by everything from his posture to the grace Cas could feel reaching for his own.

Balthazar stiffened, preparing for a fight, but the minute Jack caught sight of Castiel the angel found himself with an armful of nephilim. He held on tight, feeling Jack trembling slightly.

Having connected the dots, Balthazar caught his eye over Jack’s shoulder and mouthed “down pillow.” Cas shook his head slightly, but turned his attention back to his son.

“Jack? Are you-”

“I’m getting you out, Cas,” Jack said, pulling back. “We’re both getting out of here.”

Balthazar’s stricken expression tugged at Cas’ heart.

“Just me?” Cas asked.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The other angels are awake, Jack. Can you…”

“I… maybe. But, Cas, I don’t… I don’t know them. Why…”

“It’s alright if you can’t,” Cas assured. “But if we can help them somehow, be that bringing them back or putting them to sleep… I need to try to make things right.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll try to help.”

Cas smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Thank you. And thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course. I missed you,” Jack said, eyes wide. Cas felt something else inside him twisting.

Balthazar cleared his throat, and Cas gently turned Jack around to face the third member of their party.

“Jack, this is Balthazar. He’s a good friend.”

Jack and Balthazar looked at each other, Jack frowning and Balthazar smirking in a horribly misguided attempt to be friendly. The silence stretched on, utterly deafening. Jack broke it first.

“I… I met an alternate universe version of you that was not very nice.”

Balthazar didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, you know what they say. Don’t judge an angel by their alternate universe counterparts, right?”

That got a bit of a smile out of Jack, though he was still wary. Cas couldn’t blame him, so he kept in contact to keep him at ease.

“We need to find the Shadow. Make an arrangement so that we can take a few angels with us and the Empty goes back to peace and quiet,” Jack said. The self-assuredness was clearly a front, but somehow Cas felt as if he’d have time to help Jack through it.

“Okay,” he said, nodding at Jack. Jack nodded back, and the three of them started walking. Into what, they didn’t know.

But Castiel had the strangest feeling that it was all going to turn out alright.

#castiel #balthazar #spn #asks #prompts #napsterofficial #winchester critical #<bc of balthazar lmao #other prompts I am getting to y’all soon I promise!!#kitkat writes

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years

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Would you have me, would you want me?

Part I Part II Part III

Part IV - complete

Castiel jumps at the sound of voices outside.

“Will we get in trouble if we’re caught in here?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Dean snorts. “Who cares. It’s not like we’re doing anything illegal in here. Just hanging out.”

Castiel bites his lip and gets to his feet. “If we’re only talking, then I suppose we should move to more sanctioned areas.”

“Sure, if you wanna be a total spoilsport about it,” Dean says, but he hops off the table and stretches his arms above his head. “Christ, I can’t believe my back hurts already.” He shoots Castiel a look. “Don’t tell my kids that. They already think I’m an old man.”

“If they think you act older than your age, I don’t want to know what they would think of me,” Castiel says mildly. He pushes his chair back under the table and starts for the door.

“They’d probably be hot for teacher.”

Castiel freezes in his tracks. He spins on his heels to stare at Dean. “Excuse me?”

Dean has the grace to look away. “What?” he says defensively. “The past ten years have treated you good, ‘s all I’m saying.”

“I - thank you?” Castiel says, taken aback.

Dean shoulders past him, saying brusquely, “Forget I said anything.”

Castiel doesn’t move he reaches out to grab Dean’s shoulder, thinks better about it, and calls instead, “Wait, Dean.”

Dean turns around, his face resigned. “What?”

“Why did you do this?” he asks, gesturing around the library. “Help me, I mean.”

“I told you, I owed you,” Dean says, but he won’t meet Castiel’s eyes. He looks like one of Castiel’s students. Like Alfie when Castiel caught him texting during class, or Ambriel when she forgot to do the reading.

“I don’t think that’s the whole story,” Castiel says evenly. “It’s been ten years, you could have let things lie between us.”

“But that’s just it,” Dean says, frustrated, “I can’t. I tried. Man, I tried so freaking hard.”

Castiel sucks in a breath, mind whirring. Dean had thought about him more than a few times over the past decade? Why?

“I was-” Castiel starts before breaking off into a different direction, “Dean, it was one night. One night together and a couple months of the cold shoulder. That’s it.”

Dean shakes his head. “Not for me, it wasn’t,” he says bitterly. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me,” Castiel says, his tone brooking no argument.

Dean sighs. “I was so hung up on you. You were … so yourself. Doing your own thing, not giving a shit about what anyone else thought about you. And when I heard you were the one tutoring my sorry ass, well, I thought I was the luckiest son of a bitch in school.”

Castiel’s mouth falls open.

“And then I got to know you,” Dean says, his green eyes trained on Castiel’s face with an intensity he’s never seen before, “and you got along with Sam, and it was everything I’d ever wanted.”

“That can’t be true,” Castiel says, his voice shaking. “You left me. You left me there, in a house full of strangers. If that was how you really felt, how could you do that?”

* * *

Cas jumps at the sound of voices outside.

The movement jostles the drips of semen on his stomach, and Cas grimaces in disgust. At some point after he’d orgasmed but before he jerked Dean off, they’d both lost their shirts. But he isn’t cold, not with them lying skin to glorious bare skin.

“Fuck,” Dean swears, his eyes going wide. He jumps off the bed.

“What are you-” is all Cas can get out before Dean begins throwing clothing at him.

“I’ll lead ‘em off.” Dean hops on one foot, yanking his pants up.

“Dean-”

“What?” Dean asks distractedly.

“I - we should talk.”

“Talk?” Dean freezes in place, shirt rumpled and cheeks red. “About what?”

“About what happened between us,” Cas says hesitantly.

Dean looks away. “I - sure - maybe. We were just letting off steam, right?”

Heart sinking in his chest, Cas nods. Yes, he desperately wanted to get off with Dean. But it was also so much more than that.

“I should really let them know…” Dean jerks his head towards the door and the people right outside.

“Yes, of course,” Cas says quickly. “We’ll talk after?”

Dean gives a funny little spasm that might be a nod.

Cas leans over to root around in the nightstand for tissues or anything to dry himself off. He settles for his briefs, a little damp anyway with precome. As he stands up to shove his legs into his jeans, Dean, already fully clothed, leaves without a word.

Numbly, Cas folds up his briefs and shoves them in his back pocket.

The voices outside get louder.

Vaguely, Cas can make out Dean telling the group he had to puke, and the downstairs bathroom was occupied. Cue the laughter.

The voices fade.

Dean does not return.

* * *

Castiel waits.

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

“What?”

“You’d always taken care of yourself just fine,” Dean says, the barest undercurrent of heat in his words. “You never needed me.”

Castiel’s mouth opens and closes before he says, “We were friends. Did that mean nothing to you?”

“Of course not!” Dean hisses. “But we were both drunk and horny and, you told me yourself, you’d never done anything like that before - so forgive me for thinking you wouldn’t want anything to do with me when you’d gotten what you wanted!”

“That’s…” Castiel drifts off, at a loss for words at the sheer magnitude of Dean’s fallible logic. He runs a hand down his face. “I can’t believe it.”

"And when you said you wanted to talk," Dean continues, head shaking, "Well, I know how your head works. You were gonna make me go over everything that happened in that bedroom, pick it apart so you could have more facts to store in that big brain of yours." He takes a step back, eyes darting everywhere but at Castiel. “Well, this has been enough reminiscing about the glory days for one night. I’m gonna head out. Try to forget any of this ever happened. Have a nice life, Cas.”

“Dean,” Castiel grinds out, “Wait one moment.”

“Yeah, no can do,” Dean says quickly, his face one shade away from terrified, “I have an important appointment-”

“I waited for you for a full hour at Tessa’s house,” Castiel says coldly. “You could grant me at least a minute.”

Chastened, Dean shifts his weight to his other foot. He stares stonily down at the floor, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“I thought you saw me as convenient,” Castiel says once he’s ready to speak, “so that’s why you chose to make your move. It seemed impossible you’d pick me for any other reason. I had heard you chose a new person to sleep with at every party.”

“What the hell?” Dean murmurs, his green eyes wide in the dim light filtering in through the front doors. “I mean, I did do that, but, Cas, that’s freaking nuts. Obviously you were different.”

“Because I was an awkward teenager with no friends,” Castiel asks, eyebrows raised. “You were the most popular boy in school. Everybody loved you.”

“I mean - debatable,” Dean says, rolling his eyes, “But none of them knew me like you did. You knew how screwed up my life was. How screwed up I was.”

“I could say the same for you,” Castiel points out.

Dean releases a breathy laugh. “I guess so.”

Castiel stares hard at Dean’s face, waiting for some sign of rejection as he takes a step forward, right into his personal space. “I came to the reunion hoping to run into you.”

“So you could finally let me have it after all these years?” Dean asks, only half-joking.

Castiel shakes his head. “I was hoping for some closure.”

Confused, Dean’s eyes narrow. “Happy to give it to you,” he says slowly, “Like I said, I’ve got shit to make up for.”

Castiel shores up his resolve. “Now I’m hoping for a date.”

* * *

Cas waits.

He isn’t sure for how long, but he feels the vibrations from the music downstairs change tempo several times. He doesn’t hear any more voices outside.

Feeling smaller than he has in his entire life, which is saying something, he creeps out of the room. He steals down the stairs, nearly tripping over his and Dean’s abandoned, empty cups.

He lingers on the threshold of Tessa’s house. Maybe Dean got side-tracked by something in the party. Maybe he really intended to come back to Cas. Maybe he is waiting for Cas to find him and prove his interest.

Too many “maybes” for Cas, who prefers to deal with cold, hard facts.

Fact #1: Dean never showed romantic interest in Cas before

Fact #2: Dean only made his advances known after several alcoholic drinks

Fact #3: Boys like Dean don’t fall for boys like Cas

Maybe Cas is just delusional.

Dean is probably with the rest of the partygoers, relaxed and happy with one orgasm under his belt, and looking for more before the night is over.

He can picture Dean’s face if Cas were to track him down: shocked and confused, a little angry Cas is clinging on even after their time together was clearly over.

Cas lets Tessa’s door slam behind him. He should never have come here.

A little squeak to his right nearly sends him jumping out of his skin.

“Cas?”

He squints. “Charlie?”

Her red hair flashes in the darkness as she pushes her bangs back from her face. “Hey, man. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Same,” Cas says weakly. “I - ” He breaks off at the sound of a large sniffle. “Are you alright?”

“’M fine,” Charlie says, ducking her head so her hair falls back in front of her face. “I was getting,” her breath hitches, “some fresh air.”

“It is crowded in there,” Cas says, at a total loss for what to say. But he can’t leave her alone out here, clearly upset.

The worst thing is being alone.

He tries, “I - are you sure you’re alright?”

Charlie noisily sighs through her mouth. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re crying.”

Charlie flinches. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“I - is there anything I can do to help?” Cas asks.

“Unless you can convince Gilda to take me back, not really,” Charlie says, shoulders hunching as she crosses her arms over her chest and stares out at the empty street beyond. She sniffs. “Nobody meets their True Love in high school, or at least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.”

“It is statistically unlikely,” Cas offers tentatively, “assuming true love exists as well.”

“You don’t believe in true love?”

Cas shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

Charlie turns to him, her eyes wide with surprise. “You too?”

Cas looks away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh,” Charlie says, and, impossibly, her mouth tips up into the smallest of smiles. “Come on, tell me about it. Misery loves company, right?”

Cas swallows past the lump forming in his throat. “I had my first kiss tonight.”

Charlie’s face falls. She takes a step closer and wraps her arms around him. She smells like a berry-scented shampoo and cheap vodka. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Frozen in shock, Cas doesn’t move. It takes an extra hard squeeze from Charlie to get him to return the hug. Once he does, he finds it strangely comforting.

He doesn’t know Charlie all that well, but in this strange liminal space outside the horror show of Tessa’s party, so far removed from his safe haven in the library, it is exactly what he needs.

Maybe making new friends isn’t as hard as Cas thought.

* * *

“You want... me ?” Dean asks.

“If you’ll have me,” Castiel says, nodding.

“But…” Dean says, looking more than a little lost, “We can’t?” He phrases it like a question.

Castiel tilts his head. “Why not?”

“Because,” Dean splutters, “our history!”

“Our history consists of mutual romantic interest and a few stupid teenage mistakes,” Castiel says evenly. “Hardly insurmountable. You clearly are still attracted to me. I can say the same of you.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says - pleads, really, “With our baggage, it’ll never work out. It’s been ten years. We’ve changed.”

“I hope for the better,” Castiel says, his eyes narrowing. “Yes, you were a dick back then. But you were also my friend.”

Dean exhales an explosive sigh. “Are we really doing this?”

“If you don’t want to,” Castiel says, his stomach already clenching in anticipation, “I’m not going to force you.”

“No, no, of course I do,” Dean says quickly. “You doing anything now?”

“Other than attending my high school reunion?” Castiel asks with raised eyebrows. “No.”

“Great,” Dean says, his face breaking out into a wide smile. “I think we’ve both maxed out our free drinks a while ago, so what do you say to ditching this snoozefest early?”

“I don’t think I’ve ditched anything in my life,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean laughs and holds out his hand. “Christ, I don’t know how you survived without me.”

Castiel rolls his eyes as he gives Dean’s fingers a squeeze. “I’m starting to wonder about that myself.”

Instead of leading Castiel out of the library, Dean pulls him closer. “Wait a sec, I wanna try something.”

“What?”

But before Castiel can say another word, Dean’s mouth lands on top of his. His lips are warm and slightly dry, and wonderfully devoid of the taste of alcohol.

Castiel buries his hands in the loose material of Dean’s shirt, keeping him anchored in place as he opens his mouth to let Dean’s tongue slip inside. Butterflies take flight in his stomach, and he would probably float away if not for Dean’s steady hand resting on his waist.

Dean breaks the kiss first. But he makes no move to step away, letting his forehead rest against Castiel’s. They stand there, sharing breaths.

Dean breaks the silence. “I’ve always wanted to do that here.”

“You have?” Castiel asks, chuckling almost giddily. He feels, more than sees, Dean’s nod. Cas presses a barely-there kiss against Dean’s lips, whispering, “I’ve always wanted you to blow me under the desks, but at least we were able to satisfy one teenage fantasy today.”

Dean chokes with laughter. Eyes crinkled with the joy of his smile, he gestures to the tables. “I’m down if you are.”

Castiel looks askance at the door. “Maybe when there aren’t as many people to walk in on us. We aren’t even supposed to be here at all.”

Dean surreptitiously adjusts himself in his jeans. He scowls. “Then why torture me like that?”

Castiel shoots him a dry look as he heads for the exit. “Because you owe me, remember?”

“This is some effed up revenge plan you have,” Dean grumbles as he follows.

Castiel holds open the door. He eyes Dean critically. “You aren’t really bothered.”

“Tell that to the boner I popped in my pants like a teenager,” Dean retorts.

“I think it’s flattering.”

“I think you’re enjoying my pain,” Dean says under his breath as they pass the empty welcoming table and cross the threshold out of Edlund High.

“You caught me,” Castiel deadpans.

Dean swings his arm up to wrap around Castiel’s shoulders. He presses a smacking kiss to Castiel’s hair. “Man, I missed you.”

Castiel turns his head to see Dean properly. He’s gorgeous like this, standing under the faint twinkling of stars overhead, a wide grin adorning his face, his expressive eyes dancing with mirth.

“I missed you too, Dean.”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #fanfic #popular dean #loner castiel #hs au #high school reunion #teacher castiel #teacher dean #would you have me would you want me #complete #the story of us verse #rae writes fic

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astridbrandonauthor · 4 years

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Elven Otherworld

I just wrote a short story on Twitter. The prompt was: there's never been another human here. (I read it as 'never been a human here' and wrote something where there had never been a human being, but hey it works). ________________________ Every being that lives here have heard of the humans, but never met them. And it's a good thing because they're infamous in Alchendia for their warring habits. Their wars have been told as horror stories in Elven and Dwarven media, as well as around campfires. People are warned as children about how horrible humans have treated each other in the past, just for being different. Here in Alchendia, we embrace each other's differences. That's how Elves and Dwarves have lived since the dawn of time. Our planet is in the next solar system over, in what humans call the Alpha Centauri system. We've been watching them for centuries now, and it was just in the past 60 human-years that they've sent humans to the moon. It's only a matter of time before they leave the system. After all, they've developed the technology to send robots to the fourth planet from Solaris (their sun). It's 2020 in human time, and we've noticed that perhaps they are not going to get very far in the next five years—if this virus does not cull them out before them. Watching how humans have interacted since the beginning of time, it's concerning that even if they survive this virus, and survive what looks to be an impending war, and possibly apocalypse, could they find a way out of their solar system? I've talked to my colleagues in the Alchendia Interplanetary Discipline (AID) they all agree: if humans survive all of that, they would head to Alchendia first once they got their systems together. We need a plan to hide our planet. Elves and Dwarves cannot permit this. Worried, I brought two of my head scientists and engineers to my office: Gindali and Ambriel. Each one was well-versed in engineering and chemistry. If I had to choose anyone for this project, I would choose these two for it. As they enter the room, I dropped my papers and gestured towards the seats before me. From the looks on their faces, I could tell they had an idea already about the humans. "You heard the news," I commented. "We have, Sargent Thulmael," Ambri agreed. "I don't like it." "I don't either," Gin sighed. "None do," I agreed. "Now, this is only under the assumption that humans are going to survive their own destruction," I reminded. "Right now, probably not likely. Yet we've seen them pull through some hellish events, and that's likely here too." Granted, some days I doubted their survival. Most of us did, anyway. Yet, realistically, we can't predict whether they prevail or not—they always defied expectations. "We need to make preparations, just in case," I finally said after a moment of hesitation. "How do we cloak our planet?" "Well..." Ambriel and Gindali then went into details about how they could go about it. After listening to their options, I asked them, "Which one is the best option?" "Plasma stealth," Ambriel answered me. "Then, I think that is what we should try to achieve," I smiled. Now it's 2090. The humans survived World War III, two massive plagues, and somehow survived the supervolcanoes. A stubborn lot, they are. They've sent people to the fourth planet from Solaris, to the edge of the system, and are about to leave the system. Our plasma cloak is finished. Ambriel and Gindali are proud of their creation. The dwarves and Elves feel safe, and I did for a brief decade. Yet, I have my anxieties pertaining to the human race. What if humans get here and crash-land on Alchendia? They might not be able to see us, but this planet is still here. It's 2110. Humans are in the outer edge of the solar system. We're all waiting anxiously for them to pass the system. We can't afford the humans to bring their wars here. It's 2113. At first, we all thought they had left the system. We celebrated with the finest meads made here on Alchendia. However, something crashed onto the surface near the Dwarven border of Hlimad. It looked like an asteroid and we brought it to our labs. It was large—perhaps the size of a shuttle. Some of the scientists began mining the asteroid until they hit metal. Before they went any farther, I was called in. When I entered, they finished the mining and revealed an actual shuttle. When the doors had been cleared, they opened on their own and out came three humans: one was male and one was female. The male had olive skin, the female was black. Horrified, we all stepped back. In the alien language of the humans, the only thing I understood were the words: Adam and Eve.

#sci-fi #sci-fantasy #science fiction #fantasy #future #humanity #elves #dwarves #writing #writing prompt #prompt response

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welcome-to-noir-world · 6 years

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OC Creation Day Celebration Week: Fleshing Out Meme

While, I’d love to use an OC from The Garden’s Children (AKA The Greatest Chase), that WIP is very barebones, and I want to wait and flesh out some more things before I use anything from it (technically, I should be working on that now but hah). So, I’m gonna use my OC Noah from Magus (name pending) for this week.

Full Name: Noah Signore

Nickname: N/A

Meaning: My tradition of naming characters whose names’ code don’t fit their gender

Pet name: N/A

Gender: Female

Orientation: Pansexual

Age: 19, will probably be in her early to mid-twenties when the series ends

Birthday: Sep 6, 20??

Birthplace: Nevada

Astrological sign: Virgo

Immediate Family: Her father, Ambriel Signore and mother Emeline Signore/Sinclair

Distant Family: Either dead, missing, or estranged

Parenting: She has a good father, even if the two of them seem a little distant at times

Upbringing: Pretty okay if you don’t count the occasional financial issue and demon attack.

Coming of age: Begins when she inherits her grandmother’s magic ability and she dies not too long after

Evolution: From a semi-ruthless girl obsessed with finding her mother, to a semi-delusional girl who is even more terrified of demons than she previously was, to a significantly calmer girl who is willing to learn to take things in moderation (she’s trying guys)

Species: Human mage (who just so happens to have elf ears I promise it makes sense in context)

Ethnicity: African American/Native American

Facial type: H-...heart shape? (I don’t know)

Eye color: Brown (sometimes orange)

Hair color: red

Hairstyle: long and curly

Skin tone: Milk chocolate

Complexion: Clear

Makeup: Sometimes, but only a little

Build: Tall and slim

Height: 5′11

Birthmarks/scars: She has one large scar that covers her entire body and looks more like a tattoo. It doesn’t always appear, though.

Distinguishing features: Elf ears are pretty noticeable (when she’s not hiding them)

Health: Physically, she’s fine

Energy: Seems pretty chill until it’s investigation time

Memory: Pretty good when she doesn’t have too much on her mind

Senses: Standard senses are normal, except that she can hear better than most. In terms of senses regarding the spirit world, she’s finely tuned, a blessing and a curse.

Allergies: None

Phobias: Mistakes, curses, herself, and demons

Style: It changes all the time, not even I can keep up

Mode of dress: She can rock a good dress when she wants to, but sometimes sticks to a blouse and dress pants

Grooming: Hygiene is important, no matter what the occasion

Posture: Perfect, when she’s not stressed

Gait: Brisk and when she’s frustrated, slow when she’s in a good mood

Habits and mannerisms: She tends to bite her fingernails when she’s frustrated or contemplating something.

Scent: Tea-tree oil

Mood: Chill and pensive

Attitude: She can be pretty standoffish if you approach her wrong

Stability: Depends

Expressiveness: Not very expressive unless she’s very emotional, which doesn’t happen often

When Happy: When she’s got a breakthrough on something she’s working on

Current residence: University Dorms

Community: Pretty warm when she actually accepts them

Family: Her friends and father (and his workers)

Friends: Her classmates and some of the younger students

Enemies: Demons, The Author, The Silver Cauldron, until a certain point, Mildred

Pets/familiars: Her cats and some spirits and faeries that aren’t dicks

Collections: Perfume bottles

Prized possession: An animal skull

Religion: To the Greater Spirits

Motivation: Finding her mom and surviving demon attacks

Priorities: See the above

Philosophy: If there’s is something you need to do, expel any hesitance regarding sacrifice or consequences, as neither will matter in the greater scheme of things (it’s hilarious how fast that comes back to bite her)

Etiquette: Takes off her shoes when entering someone’s home

Culture: N/A

Influences: Th Spirits, her motivations, and any one who manages to get inside her head

Traditions: N/A

Superstitions: Demons. They’re everywhere

Main Goal: Find mom

Minor Goals/Ambitions: Who the fuck cares, where is my mom???? (wouldn’t mind learning to control her magic, though)

Career: She helps her dad run his hotel when she can

Biggest Failure: Letting her demon (yes, that’s what she calls it) hurt Mildred

Secrets: A lot

Worries: See “superstitions”

Best dream: You read her main goal, right?

Hobbies/interests: Drawing and dancing

Skills/talents: See the above

Likes: Quiet places where she can study

Dislikes: Crowded places

Pet peeves: Bigotry and hypocrites (cause the author enjoys irony)

Quirks: N/A

Savvy: Spirit savvy

Can’t understand: People with no drive

Strengths: Stubborn, clever, independent, and quick-witted

Flaws: Aggresive, obsessive, and stubborn’s here to

Tagging: Anyone and Everyone

#occelebration

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seppukuspecificallyontuesday · 7 years

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Inheritor of the Well

Entering the throne room was a daunting experience in of itself. And though he had been within many of varying shapes, colors and sizes, the Well had always been too serene, too solemn. From the smooth slate floor- etched with patterns filled by the glowing blue of three different ley lines crossing directly underneath the throne -to the dark ceilings of polished basalt, the pillars that opened the room to the surrounding outdoors, the greenery of the gardens and the forests beyond. The Well proper was intimidating in its stoicism, towering in the center of the room, a throne carved of dark stone and alluring in the power it bestowed upon the rightful king. Through the centuries the kingdom had stood, this hall had never changed; immune to the rigors of time. The tranquility of the room betrayed the tension the knight-protector felt in his soul, a sure sign that his ward was anguished. His ward, his friend, the crown prince.

He stood in the room, hazel orbs sweeping across the room before resting on the throne. Tradition had ingrained upon him that he should take a knee before the monolithic symbol of the monarchy, and so he did, palm resting on the pommel of his sword. Briefly, a prayer passed from between his lips, asking the Above for peace of mind- for himself at least, if not also for his liege. Himself, for the tumultuous duty that lay ahead and for his own eventual knighting; though he had the training, he was still little more than the prince's bodyguard. Only by a realized king could he be knighted, and there had not been a king strong enough to succumb to the Well without dying in generations. The peace of mind for his liege was far more pressing, as his coronation was the very next day. His time as prince was coming to an end, and so would begin his reign as king.

"It's not nearly as holy as everyone makes it out to be."

Adal turned on his heel, his tunic and scaled mail forming a circle as he moved. His prince stood before him, disheveled, eyes rubbed red, cheeks glistening in the muted light. Skewed on his head, the black circlet that represented his position in the royal family hung at an odd angle, tilted on pale skin. Ambriel had never looked quite so tired before, and Adal was familiar with the paragon sorcerer's sleeping habits; he was, after all, charged with protecting his life. He felt a small tug at his chest, like a kitten playing with his heartstrings as if they were yarn, but he quashed it and recalled the reason he had even entered the room. "Her Majesty requests that you present yourself for the vigi-"

"I'm terrified, you know." The pitch-haired prince laughed bitterly, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that threatened to return to his cheeks. A shuddering, another. His shoulders shook as he resisted the urge to sob. Toying with the mink fur at his collar, he took his retainer's silence as an indication that his attention was had. "That thing, the Well, it changes people. I've seen tyrants become shepherds after sitting there, an-and sound minds go mad. I can't stand the idea that I could change, Adal; I don't even know if I've found myself, and now I know that whatever I am now will be gone by this time tomorrow."

The knight-protector Nevarra took a deep breath, releasing it in a gradual sigh as he compiled his thoughts. "If you're looking for sympathy, then your words will fall on deaf ears. Don't give me that look, Ambriel- you know that this is your responsibility. It's your birthright. You are the first prince in generations of the royal family to even be capable of assuming the throne, and you're speaking like you want to back out? That's- that's an almost treasonous waste of your gifts. You have all of the right aptitudes, the schooling to prepare you for your reign, all of the proficiencies-"

"Above damn your proficiencies!" Ambriel's voice was shrill, breaking at almost every consonant as he struggled to keep standing, clutching at his own elbows. The golden-haired bodyguard staggered for a moment, almost taken aback by an outburst from the usually-soft spoken princeling, but he recovered his composure almost as quickly as he had lost it. "What did you expect? I'm first your advisor and foremost your protector, not your friend. That has come over the years, and only after Her Majesty had me swear fealty to you. She has given me orders to take you to the sanctuary to begin your vigil, and I will take you there now."

Adal's lunge to seize the prince was met with a parried hand and a nigh-feral "Don't you dare touch me." He reached out to grab him again and finally clutched at his wrist, securing his grip on the taller but slighter royal. "Now, you will head straight to the sanctuary or I will escort you there mys-"

For a royal whose training consisted mostly of perfecting spells without tomes, Ambriel's left hook was a savage and unexpected blow that left Adal reeling. He released his grip on the crown prince to rub at his jaw, eyes narrowing, leveling a stare that showed the anger and indignation he felt in that moment. "Your majesty, I think you must've mistaken me for a common burglar. The queen mother will be upset to hear that her son struck his retainer on the eve of his coronation."

The prince was clearly incensed and driven mad in this moment, as his next swing was wild and without aim. It was easily dodged and countered with another grab, this time for his waist. As his fingers dug into the black plates of his liege's armor, Ambriel pulled away, sending them both sprawling to the warm stone floor. Adal was quick to seize the mage's wrists, locking them in as the black circlet went bouncing away and Ambriel gasped for breath. He must've been seeing stars, or had the impact jar his vision, as he was slow to retaliate, bucking his hips madly to shove off his perceived assailant. When it failed, he rolled, losing Adal along the way as both rushed to their feet.

For a moment, the two circled one another like lions at the time of challenge. That was before the knight-protector saw the crimson and tyrian flames licking and swirling around the sorcerer prince's fingertips. This less-than-subtle declaration was met in turn, and stark white lightning clashed with a dark inferno as the circle widened. The sacred Hall was scarred by bolts and pulses, the battle increasing to a frenzy as the rest of the palace's inhabitants cowered in their safe places or watched with grim reluctance. Geometric burns crawled across Ambriel's body as a bolt struck him in the shoulder, setting the prince's cape to flame. The blow was returned with vigor, and Adal sported a smoldering burn on his side, turning his cloak to cinders around the burn site. Prince and Protector alike returned to their original place before the Well, clutching and clawing with fingers of fire and digits of crackling electricity.

Finally, the crown prince, burned and gasping for breath, collapsed underneath a blow, sprawled against the steps to the throne. His armor and clothing alike lay in tatters, his pale skin marred by fractals and blood from the corner of his mouth and center of his split lip. His eyes were wide and glassy, and breath came like the tide during a windstorm. Adal still held a sphere of lightning in his palm, charged and ready to burn, scar, or cease the prince's pulse. Ambriel's dark eyes, usually so bright, so happy, held a despair the likes of which no man should ever have to see. They fixated on the pulsing orb, illuminated in the dark room by the light.

"Do it. Kill me." His voice was a hoarse whisper, stark in contrast to the horrendous insults and curses he had flung at his protector, his friend during their battle. His chest rose and fell like an empire, a dynasty, all held in a single exhale and inhale, all protected by the beating of his breaking heart. "I don't want to be someone I'm not. As your prince and your liege, I order you to kill me. Protect me, dammit, save me from being a monster. I can't, I won't, live with myself turning into that."

The orb ceased its pulsing, the hand that held it going slack and falling by the wielder's side. Adal sat down, his leg curling at the knee. He peeled off his cracked glasses, wiping his eyes- whether to get ash out of them or to hide tears, Ambriel would never know -before looking back at his liege. "The queen has requested your presence in the sanctuary. I think we've kept her waiting long enough."

Despite his protests, the screaming and weak slaps to his body, Adal lifted the prince onto his shoulders and carried him to Queen Merhilde. His duty was first and foremost to the queen, not the temperamental princeling who had taken to mood swings and crying in his quarters in the days leading up to the coronation. He reminded himself of that over and over again, well into the night as clerics diligently went over his body with their light. He reminded himself of that as his beloved rushed in, worried as she saw the flashes and assumed the worst had come to pass. He reminded himself of that as he lied no, no it was fine, he and the prince had simply taken to a quick spar and it had gotten out of hand.

He reminded himself of that as he saw the power wash over his king, stilling the fluttering of his eyes and the fright in his countenance, turned his expression into little more than a cold, detached mask of what he used to be. He reminded himself of that as he saw the light in Ambriel's eyes die. He reminded himself of that as King Ambriel Krakenburg, Inheritor of the Well, declared that Adal Nevarra would swear fealty to him, reject the Queen Mother, or suffer the consequences.

He reminded himself as he took a knee and rejected the queen, swearing over and over that his king was his lord and none other would take him from being Ambriel's loyal servant. He reminded himself of this as he rose, a Knight at last.

#fantasy fiction #sort of like #middle fantasy?#never using these characters again lol #hey look i write

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