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capricornus-rex · 3 years

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A Shadow of What You Used to Be (5)

Chapter 5: Lingering Grief | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

6 of ?

“I love… Love…” Shmi choked before she succumbed to death, never able to complete the simplest yet most important of phrases.

Anakin’s shaky fingers closed his mother’s eyes. The pang of grief was quickly overtaken by an unquenchable vengeance.

A heavy, ominous darkness blankets the Tusken encampment. The guards outside Shmi’s tent barely had a reaction time to the ignition of Anakin’s lightsaber; when they had turned around after the flaps of the tent hit their sleeve, they were cut down without the hesitation of a moment.

Alarmed by the attack, the Tuskens untied their massiffs—their reptilian guard dogs—and unleashed those hounds on Anakin, before advancing to attack the intruding Jedi themselves. The rage and grief seething within him was weaponized, it had amplified his swordsmanship; however, it made his movements raggedy, uncalculated, and unbecoming of his practiced lightsaber form. He planted his feet on the ground while he kept his eyes straight on the enemy. Or were they at all?

One after another, the Tuskens came at him—cycler rifles and staves brandished in the air—and were instantaneously felled, not even allowed to have a swing of their own weapons. One of them alerted the snipers who were in the perimeter of the encampment, supposedly on patrol; many of them went for the encampment, attempting to give support in the skirmish, but they were quickly losing—despite outnumbering the Jedi to fifty or so.

When push comes to shove, a number of the females braved and took up arm to fight off this murderous trespasser—who’s cutting them by the numbers. In their native tongue, they urged one another to join the ranks and charge. The women joined the fray, amongst the males, while some other females—particularly mothers—scurried with their young into their tents for safety. Now, the latter caught Anakin’s attention.

Anakin cut through the Tuskens’ defenses, man and woman alike, and sliced down the mothers first then their children next, sometimes the other way around. The wounded but living mothers howled in the night, carrying their children—grown and newborn—sorrowfully wailing, praying to their deities to deliver them mercy from this agony. And that exact deliverance came in the form of a blinding blue beam of light. However, their granted prayers were not of mercy, but of an unquenchable hatred, more like a punishment—from a certain point of view.

But then again, does the way of death matter?

He proceeded to finish off the stragglers, many of them fatally injured and are just scrambling on the sand with one hand extended in a pleading gesture. In their eyes, Anakin appeared to them like an executioner—with the campfire at his back, tracing his unhooded silhouette, and a cyan beam illuminating his distorted features. That was the final thing they ever saw before their bodies met the lightsaber, a noble weapon now used for an atrocious annihilation.

That night, Anakin never discriminated. He killed not only the men, but the women, and the children, too. He left nothing in his wake but death and destruction.

–

In the middle of it all, a chill wraps around Irele over her shoulders. She thought it strange, it’s only the first few hours of nightfall—where it’s usually warm at that time of the day and the cold gradually creeps in. The cold was dramatically different from the desert breeze at dusk. It crawled along her arms, then snaked over her spine and the small of her back, forcing her to pause from her pastime of creating beaded and woven crafts—a hobby she picked up from Shmi.

“What’s wrong, Irele?” asked Beru, mending a scarf in the common room.

“Is it just me or has it gotten unusually colder?”

Beru’s eyes flicked to the side, paused to feel a draft, and then shrugged. She was wearing a short-sleeved tunic paired with her long skirt. She would have felt the same as Irele, but she didn’t. When the older girl noted the uneasiness in Irele’s expression, she stood up and patted her forehead.

“Are you alright, Irele? You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“No, but I guess it was just a funny feeling. Maybe heatstroke.”

“Irele, we’re all too used to the heat here to get a heatstroke,” Beru chuckled. “If any, we’d get one if we were in a volcanic planet!”

The girls shared a chuckle with the lighthearted joke, which may have distracted Irele for a bit until she eventually dismissed it as indeed a funny feeling, but only for a second.

She had been waiting for Anakin—along with their mother—to come home, but given that they lack the whereabouts of this Tusken band, she though perhaps he had asked the locals along the way, like Jawas and vagabonds. When the hours have passed, the night had grown darker, Irele had no choice but to sleep on it.

In her bed, the cold persisted. She pulled up her blanket—her favorite one for it was handmade by her mother—until it covered her up to her nose, exposing her only from the eyes up. She tried closing her eyes, but her lids twitched, begging to be opened. Lying flat on her back, facing the ceiling, staring at the stone ceiling, she wondered and imagined where Anakin and Shmi would be.

“Mom… I hope he brings you home safely.”

More thoughts coaxed into Irele’s mind. They’re hopeful thoughts. Behind her eyes, she’d visualize Shmi in the kitchen, whipping up a favorite meal of hers, and she’d insist on helping. Both of them would sew together, making whatever garment they choose. All that wishful thinking lulled the girl to sleep, blissfully unaware of the chaos that her own brother had wrought.

The next morning, the sound of the speeder made Irele drop everything and run to the porch.

Her hopes from last night were shattered when she saw Anakin riding the speeder alone and all he brought with him was a fully swaddled body. Her felt her heart drop her stomach, and she watched in silence as Anakin carried the corpse and glowered at the Lars family and then to Padmé. He brushed past them, and then in the corner of his eye, he caught his little sister staring. Irele standing there stopped him in his tracks, then his glower softened into a look of shame—one that says he didn’t fulfill his promise to her. Just one day of meeting her, he lets go of a promise, and fails it.

He didn’t know what to say to her. She let him know that he didn’t need to, for she turned tail and ran back inside.

Irele helped in the preparation of the grave, but for the rest of the activity, she did not speak. She did not maintain eye contact with anyone. The only interaction she’s ever had was with C3PO when she needed help on something, but not even he received a gaze from his young mistress.

She dusted her hands together, and dismissed herself.

“I’m going inside. I want a drink.” she told to no one in particular, but her father and brothers acknowledged it.

She was in the kitchen, just through the small doorway past the dining table, helping herself to a glass of juice. She sat in the seat nearest the door and just stared at the glass filled with a clear, apricot-colored liquid, tracing the rim of the glass with her finger, occasionally sipping it—for once, the sweet fruit juice tasted watery and bland, she finished the glass nonetheless, though reluctantly.

During her drinking, she had sensed Anakin walking into the workshop as she heard even the more careful of clinking of metal hitting the table. She remained silent, though he could sense her there, he just chose not to disturb her and rather make himself busy with fixing things. Next, she heard Padmé’s soft and kindly voice, a stark contrast to Anakin’s steely tone.

“Are you hungry?”

“The shifter broke,” he completely avoided her question.

Their conversation went on, with Anakin struggling to keep away from the grief that lingered in him.

“But I couldn’t…” he trailed. “Why’d she have to die? Why couldn’t I save her? I know I could have!”

Then he tasted something sour, not realizing that he had bitten the inside of his cheek and it bled. The walls listened and told everything to Irele, who’s still drawing invisible lines on her glass. Much later, she jolted when Anakin responded to Padmé’s fact with a loud frustration.

“Well, I should be!”

“I will be the most powerful Jedi ever!”

Irele continued to listen in, though Anakin’s behavior frightened her, and she had already come out of the dining room and hid behind the wall before the workshop’s archway.

“And I promise you: I will even learn to stop people from dying!”

Taken aback by the bold claim, she thought it impossible and dismissed it as wishful thinking clouded by unrealistic ambitiousness. Again, Irele heard more of Anakin’s roaring, this time blaming someone by the name of Obi-Wan of holding him back. She just continued to listen, hoping to find a way to empathize with her brother, but she found it difficult when he’s so flooded primarily of hatred and anger than sorrow and grief.

“Ani, what’s wrong?” Padmé cooed, attempting to break through his walls.

Anakin looked down on his hands, the very hands that held and swung the sword as he passed on his sentence to the Tuskens. They’re still red from the overly-tightened grip of his saber from last night. There were bruises too, little nicks that he didn’t notice during the genocide. The tears have dried, leaving glossy streaks on his defined cheekbones. His nostrils flared as he gasped for air, when the realization was slowly creeping up to him. He choked as he sighed.

“I killed them… I killed them all…” he repeated. Then swung to face Padmé. “They’re dead. Every single one of them…”

Padmé stared at him, dead frozen on where she stood. Her fingers unfeeling. Irele heard those very words from her own brother’s mouth and she could have sworn she felt her heart pause from beating. Her stomach tightened after every following word.

“And not just the men. But the women… and the children too!”

Irele’s knees nearly failed her as they lost their strength. Her heart felt heavy like an anchor. She silenced a gasp when she brought her hand to her mouth.

“They’re like animals. And I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!”

Horrified of the unimaginable, completely unnecessary carnage her brother had wrought, she ran away from the workshop; the sound of her boots lightly scraping against the sand and metal as her heels sprang Anakin’s ears pricked up, but he was too preoccupied with his grief that he dismissed it as nothing. Irele sprints to her bedroom. For a moment, it didn’t sound like her brother was the one talking—she heard the words of a monster in the guise of a man.

Her hands trembled uncontrollably that she cannot even hold something with two fingers. She finally allowed herself to melt to the floor, and she cannot fathom how much violence and damage that Anakin left in his wake upon retrieving their mother. That night, Irele could not sleep; she waited for everyone to have fallen asleep and attempted to sneak out of the house to visit Shmi’s headstone again. They had buried Shmi already, Irele helped too, but Cliegg was too cautious of the nightfall that he insisted on setting the funeral tomorrow morning where it’s safer; of course, his son and stepdaughter agreed to it, Anakin didn’t have much of a choice. He stole a glimpse of Irele, who kept her vision forward; when she would turn to an angle where she’d have to face Anakin she kept her eyes on the ground, and would look in front when she’s gained distance from everyone else.

She and her own biological brother lack the comfort and warmth as siblings would share—especially in such a harrowing experience like losing a parent.

She’d rather prefer the comfort of a stone.

Settling herself on the sand, her handwoven scarf—made by her mother, no less—wrapping her little body from her desert chill, she spoke to Shmi’s headstone.

“Hi, Mom…” she sadly started. Unable to find the next, proper words, she had a silent moment in front of the grave, and rocked back and forth for a bit. “He’s quite taller than I expected. Though, I should’ve seen it coming. He is my big brother, after all.” She huffed out an awkward chuckle.

She scribbled on the sand and then would start over by brushing it with a single sweep of her hand. This would repeat as she spoke openly to the gravestone. For every passing moment, the tone of her voice would grow more somber and quieter, lacking the strength to let out another word than simply letting it go and cry.

“You know, he told me that he’d bring you home—but I never expected it to be in this way.”

There was a bitter taste in her mouth, she clicked her tongue, “He promised.”

No answer, of course. Nevertheless, the girl continued. Already yearning for her mother’s embrace.

“Had I known… I already had that feeling…! I should’ve come with you. I may be little but… You never doubted me. Thanks to that, I knew—I really knew—that I could fight them off, even for just a bit. If I did, I would have protected you. Then they never would have taken you away from me. I would have bought us time to escape… I would have called Dad and Owen—or anyone—for help.”

She hiccuped, picking up what’s left of her failing confidence, “I would have saved you.”

That wishful thinking then led her to finally releasing the tears she had been holding back all day.

“I miss you so much already, Mommy…”

Not even the warmth of her woven scarf blanketing her would be enough of a stand-in for Shmi’s hugs. It will never be. Being the only memory of her mother, it’s only a fragment of what Irele will remember of her.

She went to sleep quite late, understandably so.

–

The morning of the funeral, as promised, occurred. Cliegg gave his eulogy first, Irele had her turn on her eulogy next—she had not much to say, for she had already said everything in private last night—though she cannot be moved from where she knelt, then Anakin got on his knees right next to her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you, Mom, and I hope you can forgive me too, for breaking my promise to my sister.”

Irele craned her head to her side but quickly withdrew it, facing the grave again.

The funeral was interrupted when the white and blue astromech droid R2D2 came to bear news. Padmé and Anakin prepared to retreat to the silver starship meters away from the homestead.

“Come with me,” Anakin whispered, he sounded demanding even in a low voice.

Irele attempted to harden her voice, to convey the conviction of her decision, “My place is here, Anakin. Like it or not, they’re my family. I can’t leave them.”

Anakin’s head bobbed downwards, and then the unexpected happened—in an attempt to comfort one another, both Irele and Anakin planted their hands on each other’s shoulders; he gave her small shoulder a tight squeeze, hers was gentle and somewhat faltering as if the toll of Shmi’s death has only begun to sink into her.

“May the Force be with you.” bid Anakin.

She didn’t know what to say back and simply watched her brother sprint towards the ship.

The Cliegg family watched the starship blow a plume of smoke underneath its landing gear, hovered, and then darted through the sky before vanishing like star come morning light.

For Irele, it’s back to her regular life here in Tatooine. Where she belongs.

Or so she thinks.

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idontblushsrry · 3 years

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Do You Know That I Do Love You

Chapter 1: Do You Still Think Of Me Fondly?

Next>

Word Count:

Warnings: Some swearing, smut in later chapters

A/N: This is purely self indulgent at this point. I will get my black nobility/courtly romance fic and it just so happens to be with Han Ju-Do from Yona of the Dawn (great show if you ask me I think everyone should watch it and that it deserves more but, whateverrr) I don’t know how many chapters this is going to have, I thought 2 but maybe I’ll do 3 or 4 it all depends on what I feel like is gonna complete the story the best. Reader is black, she has a Korean last name to match with the rest of the show characters. Spoilers ahead for parts of Yona Of The Dawn anime/manga

A/N Pt.2: This is based off of the concept of courtly love but w tweaks bcus I have like no ability to stick with angst permanently, like if asked nicely, I’ll do a happy ending (Also Reader and Ju-do are both single so). This fic is also based of this song if you want to get into the vibe.

You’d been told tales of the Crimson Dragon Castle just nothing could’ve compared to the majesty of seeing it in person. The gates opened and guards announced your arrival as your carriage pulled inside. You stared in awe at the sheer size of it while your attendants whispered something to each other that you didn’t quite pick up on.

“What was that?”

You turned and your attendants immediately went silent, squirming and failing to meet your gaze each time you tried to capture them in it.

“Nothing milady just the talk of lowly servants that you shouldn’t concern yourself with.”

You could tell though from the guilt in her tone and the way the other attendant looked as though you’d have her thrown out if you heard what she said that you knew they were discussing the reason you’d even come to the palace. You were much too old to be an unmarried woman and the constant rumours of your status ranged in believability, the most outrageous being that you were a succubus and having a husband would get in the way of your appetites.

When you’d heard it, that made you cackle because you were the furthest thing from a succubus.

It’s not like you felt ashamed of being a virgin, you were a grown woman after all, and it’s not as though you were the sole heir to your family’s name. You had plenty of siblings to carry on the family name. The issue lied in the fact that you were the oldest, your family tradition dictated that none shall marry before the oldest and as such you’d been on the receiving end of anger from your siblings, parents, potential suitors, and all in between.

When your father first proposed the idea of marriage to you, many of your siblings were still too young to care or remember. You could feel the concern coming from both of your parents as they urged you to meet with suitors from other clans and families. And you could feel their growing rage as you rejected one after another.

Now nearing two decades later, your siblings, the ones who were unconcerned with your marital status so long ago were now resentful of you. Many of them had approached you individually and together with their grievances, claiming you were holding the family back and restraining them from true love, all the things you’d heard before.

They’d brought those same complaints to father and he brought up the idea of a palace visit to you. No not in so few words nor with such direct intent but the message was there. He’d brought the idea up while you fed the fish in your private reserve.

‘I think that this place is too stifling of your abilities my dear. I’d like for you to go to the Crimson Dragon Palace in my stead, I’m getting rather old and the whole thing is nothing but a diplomatic affair anyways, I’m sure you can handle it.’ You were going to turn down his offer. Not consciously out of spite but because you knew what he wanted you to do. His words seemed like the ones of a trusting father but the undertone of ‘return with a fiancé or I’ll disown you’ rang clear as a bell through your head. You may have been stubborn but you weren’t a fool, your family had grown impatient with your antics and if this behavior continued, they’d send you packing without so much as a goodbye.

You’d contemplated that idea and thought up the pros and cons to being disowned. It wasn’t until you heard two maids whispering outside your room that night that you made your decision.

‘Poor Master Seong I heard that Lady (Y/N) is preventing him from meeting his heirs.’

‘Eh? What do you mean, how could she do that?’

‘She refuses to let any of her siblings get married and as the next clan head, any marriages from her siblings that occur before her own are forbidden.’

‘Wow! Really, then why won’t she just get married already?’

‘Who knows.’

By the following night you were in a carriage on your way to the castle. Coincidentally with the two maids that spoke ill of you that night. It seems that they still haven’t gained the ability to shut up even when it’s in their best interest.

The carriage pulled up to the guest exit and you didn’t have to wait long before the carriage was opened by one of the palace servants.

“Welcome Lady Seong”

You were rushed to yet another carriage that would take you to your quarters while your attendants followed someone else to the servants’ quarters. For the first time in the weeks it’d taken you to travel here, you could feel yourself begin to truly relax. The servant next to you was stiff with rigid and tense shoulders especially compared to your unladylike and unrefined composure. But, they were quiet. You weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and you didn’t particularly feel like talking to ease the tension in the carriage, so, you ignored it. Most of it was coming from the servant not knowing how to react to you anyways.

You closed your eyes to think of the last time you felt truly happy and all your defeated mind could conjure was an image of a chubby outstretched hand handing you a six-petaled flower.

“Milady? We’ve arrived at your quarters.”

You stepped out of the dark carriage into the courtyard of the place you’d be staying. Only to find that this courtyard was slightly nicer than you’d expected a standard nobles courtyard to be. There was an abundance of flowers, rocks lining the foliage. A bridge that spanned a small river that begun with a waterfall. Birds, a gazebo lined with jewels in the far corner, and the fragrant scent of jasmine flowers.

The servant, seemingly unfazed by the extravagance, urged you to follow her with a motion of her head. Her feet leading you through the courtyard with practiced expertise, you managed to keep up with her strides by clutching your dress up some and resisting the urge to gawk at every element passing you by.

She brought you to a spacious room similarly sized as the room you slept in back home. The room was relatively bare save for a large bed pressed against the wall in the center of the room, a wardrobe, vanity and an incense holder among other things.

She turned to you and bowed before turning to leave. “Before you leave, what’s your name?”, she froze as though she wasn’t expecting you to actually speak to her. She turned back to you with a close eyed smile.

“My name? It’s Ha-Neul”

You’d received the first and arguably the most difficult of your diplomatic duties when within 3 days of your stay, you were being summoned by King Suwon. While the letter came as a shock to you, you nearly had a heart attack when you learned you’d be meeting in the King’s personal tea gardens. You’d take it as a compliment, however, you were 1) essentially all alone with no one to back you up should you fail to be adept at conversation and 2) you’d only met the new king as a boy and in passing, you were somewhat underprepared and knew nothing more of him than what you’d heard in passing.

‘No. Don’t think like that (Y/N)’, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your braids hung down, the tight coils of your hair wrapped up inside of them as they hung down from your scalp to frame your face. ‘You are more than capable, if it weren’t for your intelligence, you wouldn’t have made it this far. You can do this.’ You took a look at your outfit. It was unfit to meet the king. But before you could begin working yourself up into another nervous tizzy, Ha-neul knocked on your door, her consistent rapping against it breaking you out of your anxious reverie.

Ha-Neul was truly a miracle worker. She’d managed to make your previously tense body appear completely calm and put together with a few twists of her wrists and some careful thought into what she’d have you wear to meet with the king.

By the time the carriage had stopped, the anxiety in your gut had settled to a deep thrum that would remind you of its presence at the very center of your being but wouldn’t seize control of your body. This mercy provided by your anxiety allowed you to put one foot in front of the other like you’d done since you were a child, albeit with a more conscious effort.

You’re led by a flurry of servants and guards to where Suwon was sitting so tranquilly in his tea gardens. It was amazing how much he’d grown since you’d last seen him but those same features he had as a child seemed to have aged with his spirit. You didn’t know why but you got this deep guttural feeling that he’d done something akin to a betrayal of himself. It showed oh so subtly in the way he drank his tea with an air of practiced indifference that he tried to cover with a layer of oversaturated artificial happiness.

“Lady Seong, it’s good to see you. I hope your quarters are to your liking.”

Showtime.

You bowed respectfully to him before replying, “Yes, the room is lovely and even more so the courtyard. I’d love to speak with the person who designed it. How have you been your majesty?”

You’d hoped flattery would work with him, all your cues were being taken from him but it was near impossible to get a read on him. You kept your tone and demeanor light and cheery but eve still that was all he was giving you. It was like he was trying to gauge you at the same time.

Oh, you realized embarrassingly belatedly, this is a test.

The new king couldn’t afford any threats to his power and securing allyship while weeding out untrustworthy people was the most effective way for him to achieve that in lieu of starting a full-scale war.

But Kouka didn’t need that.

Since you were attending in your father’s stead, he’s likely assumed that you’re the new head of your clan, ‘If only he knew’.

Well, if it’s a test he wants then a test he’ll get. Two could play that game and you always were very good at mind games.

It feels as though it’s been about 30 minutes of you and King Suwon exchanging formalities, trying to see who’d crack. But finally, the tea and snack get delivered and you realize that for now, you’d reached a stalemate with the King. You could count it as a win but judging from the fact you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you mentally conceded to the standstill with him, and from the sigh he let out it seems he’s resigned himself to the same fate.

“Let’s eat then shall we.” he says good-naturedly, like the careful tension of your previous exchange never happened, so you nod in agreement. Waiting for him to take the first bite and sip before following suit. You close your eyes and simply enjoy the gentle floral taste and aroma of the tea. You take a moment of respite in the tea and neglect your surroundings for a moment.

You hear big clunky footsteps hurry their way down the hallway you and Suwon are staying in before, “My King, I apologize for my lateness, and while inexcusable, I hope that you can forgive me.”

You recognize that voice, you move to open your eyes at the same time the man stands up and before King Suwon can get his answer out, you interrupt him with “Ju...do?”

He looks down at you with a sneer looking ready to give you a tongue- lashing for interrupting the King and calling him out of his station. Before a look of recognition flashes in his eyes and he looks away hurriedly, calling your name with a formal “Lady Seong, I didn’t know you were at the castle."

Ok, ouch. Few things hurt worse than the person you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time fawning over as a teenager (and young adult) dismissing you with such a dismissive and cold formality.

You’d already fucked up by interrupting the King and you weren’t about to fuck up again by not responding to a General when directly addressed by one. “I didn’t know you were at the castle either, General.” If you were nothing more than a formality to him, then he’d be nothing more than a formality to you.

Yes you were aware of how petty and flimsy that logic was. He hadn’t seen you in years, of course he was going to be cordial with you. But the other part of you, the person who was heartbroken by the same man who stood in front of you right now, someone that you thought you buried long ago, hoped that calling him General hurt just as much as hearing him call you anything but (Y/N).

#yona of the dawn imagines #black reader #x black reader #han judo #han judo yona of the dawn #akatsuki no yona #general judo x reader #han judo x reader #yona of the dawn x reader #general judo #general han judo #pls lmk if yall like this #or if you watch yotd #there isnt a really big fandom for it and i am searching pls #idontblushsrry #x reader #anime imagines #imagines #smut

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elliemarchetti · 4 years

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Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 1)

@lilyharvord hope you like it!

Masterlist

Words: 2391

It’s a universally recognized truth that a bachelor in possessing of a large fortune should need a wife. However little you may know about the feelings or points of view of such a man on his first appearance in the neighborhood, this truth is so firmly fixed in the minds of the district’s families that he was considered the legitimate property of one or the other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Barrow,” his lady told him one day, “did you know that finally the Hall of the Sun has been rented?”

Mr. Barrow replied no and although his lack of interest was evident, his wife continued with her speech anyway, until, impatient at the absence of an answer, she asked him if he wasn’t interested in knowing who possessed enough fortune to be able to afford it.

"You want to tell me, and I have nothing against listening,” he replied, enigmatic as always. He had always been a bizarre man, but the war accident that forced him into a wheelchair had somehow accentuated his wit and sarcasm, and despite twenty-three years had passed, his wife, a woman with a simple mind, of low intelligence and even less culture, still struggled to understand him, but somehow it seemed enough for the man, and he loved her dearly.

“Well, my dear,” she continued, “you must know that Mrs. Long says the Hall of the Sun was rented by a young man who arrived Monday to see the place, and was so delighted that he will send his servants toward the end of the week.”

"And what’s his name, may I ask?”

“Samos,” replied the woman, innocently. Mr. Barrow knew that name well, as it was that of the family who owned the largest mines in the kingdom, but he didn’t know if their son was a bachelor or not, an answer that soon came from his wife.

“Oh! Bachelor, my dear, you can be sure! What a beautiful thing for our girls! ”

“Why on earth? What do they have to do with it?” he asked, even though he had already guessed his wife’s plan to marry him to one of their daughters. What his spouse didn’t take into consideration was that this might not be the primary interest of the young heir to an industry that seemed to be making him richer and richer: after all, they weren’t a rich nor noble family, and all they had was earned from their work in the textile industry and his and his three sons’ military career.

“Since he’s young, it’s very likely that he can fall in love with one of our girls, and so you must visit him as soon as he arrives,” replied his wife, as if she had not understood that the flow of his thoughts had gone far beyond.

“I see no reason to do that. You and the girls can go without me, or you can send them alone, which maybe will be better, since you’re as beautiful as they are and Mr. Samos could consider you the best of the bunch.”

"My dear, you flatter me. Sure, I had my share of beauty, but now I don’t claim to be anything extraordinary, but don’t try to distract me: you really must go.”

"It’s more than I can commit to doing, I assure you.”

“But think of your daughters. Just think of what arrangement it would be for one of them. The Skonos are determined to go just for this reason, and you know that they generally don’t visit newcomers. You have to go, because if you don’t, it would be impossible for us to visit him.”

"Surely you have too many scruples: I really think that Mr. Samos will be delighted to meet you, and I’ll send through you my cordial consent to his marriage to whichever girl he prefers, although I’ll have to put in a good word for my little Mare.”

"Do me the pleasure of not doing such a thing. Mare is nothing better than Gisa and I’m sure she isn’t half as beautiful or half as jovial as her, but you always prefer her over your other daughter.”

"That’s because I have to balance your obvious preference for Gisa,” the man replied, and not knowing how to win that argument, Mrs. Barrow appealed to her most famous excuse, her feeble nerves.

“Ah, you don’t know how much I suffer.”

“But I hope you will be able to heal, and live to see many young men with four thousand a year arrive in the neighborhood. ”

“It wouldn’t do any good even if twenty came, seen that you are not going to visit them,” she replied, angrily.

“Count on it, my dear, that when they will be twenty, I’ll go and visit every one!” he exclaimed, and walked away, leaving her to wonder if he would go or not, an answer she received the next week, during a conversation that occupied the whole family, in which her husband threw a few clues about his secret visit to Mr. Samos that morning.

“I’m tired of Mr. Samos!” exclaimed his wife, after a while.

“I’m sorry, but why didn’t you tell me before? If I had at least known it this morning, I certainly wouldn’t have gone to visit him. It’s really unfortunate, but since I did indeed visited him, now we can no longer avoid him,” he replied, although it really was exactly what he would’ve wanted; even if he was handsome, with an elegant appearance and formal manners, everything in him seemed forced and his expression wasn’t very nice. Even Shade, his third son, who had accompanied him in his visit, didn’t liked him that much, and it was a very strange event, given his character. Anyway, the two had decided not to spoil the enthusiasm of the women and not to instill in them any bad judgment, so, thanks to the general excitement, they retired ahead of time, followed by Bree, who had no interest in dances and social events of that kind, and which would shortly be called back to serve in the army.

"What an excellent father you have!” exclaimed Mrs. Barrow, as soon as she was left alone with Tramy, her favorite son, and the two youngest.

“I don’t know how you can ever repay his kindness; or mine too, for that matter. At our age, I tell you, it’s not so pleasant to make new acquaintances every day; but for your sake we would do anything. Gisa, my darling, even if you are the youngest, I really believe that Mr. Samos will be your knight at the next ball.”

Mare was used to that kind of preference, and she spent the rest of the evening speculating about when Mr. Samos would return Mr. Barrow’s visit, and deciding when they should’ve invited him to lunch. The visit was returned within a few days, but although Mr. Samos had hoped of being admitted to the presence of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard a lot, he saw only their father. The ladies were a little luckier, as they had the advantage of ascertaining, from a window upstairs, that he was wearing a black jacket and was riding a wonderful thoroughbred stallion. Immediately afterwards an invitation to dinner was sent, and Mrs. Barrow had already planned the dishes that would do her honor when a postponing reply arrived: Mr. Samos was forced to be in town the following day, and consequently was unable to accept the honor of their invitation. Mrs. Barrow was utterly shocked: she couldn’t imagine what he could do so shortly after his arrival that requested his presence at Archeon and she began to fear that he might pass quickly from one place to the other without ever stopping at the Hall of the Sun for the time due. Lady Skonos calmed her fears a little by saying that perhaps he had gone to the capital only to gather a large party for the ball, and soon afterwards news came that Mr. Samos would take twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the party. The girls worried about the number of ladies, but the day before the dance they consoled themselves by learning that, instead of twelve, he would take only six with him, the sister, a dear friend and four cousins, but when the party arrived, he made his entry into the ballroom with just four people, being them his sister, a beautiful woman with an undeniable elegance, this mysterious friend, a noble lady with the appearance of a princess, a cousin and another young man., General Calore, who immediately attracted the attention of the room for his tall and refined figure, his beautiful features and his noble bearing : the gentlemen thought him a refined-looking man, the ladies proclaimed that he was far more attractive than Mr. Samos, and he was object of great admiration for about half of the evening, up when his manner aroused a disapproval that reversed the course of his popularity; it turned out that he was proud, that he thought himself above the company and did nothing to make himself pleasant, and not even his vast estate in Harbor Bay could save him from having a hostile and unpleasant face, not to be worthy of comparison with the other guest, who had immediately made acquaintance with more people and was lively and expansive, danced every round and regretted it was over so soon. These amiable qualities spoke for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! General Calore, on his part, danced once with Miss Samos and once with Lady Haven, refused to be introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening wandering around the room, occasionally talking to someone from his group. He was the most haughty man in the world and everyone hoped he would never show up again, more than anyone else Mrs. Barrow, whose disapproval of his behavior was sharpened by a particular resentment, given he had snubbed one of her daughters: Mare Barrow had been forced by the shortage of men to remain seated for two rounds of dance, and during one of these moments, General Calore found himself standing close enough to allow her to hear unseen a conversation between him and Mr. Samos, who had stopped dancing for a few minutes and approached his friend to persuade him to join him.

"Come on, Cal,” he said, “I have to make you dance. I hate seeing you standing there alone in such a stupid way. ”

“I won’t do it for sure. You know how much I hate it, unless I know my lady well. In a place like this it would be unbearable. Your sisters are busy, and in the hall there’s no other woman with whom for me to dance with wouldn’t be one punishment.”

“I wouldn’t want to be as picky as you are,” exclaimed Mr. Samos, “for all the gold in the world!”

“You’re dancing with the only attractive girl in the room,” said General Calore, looking at Lady Skonos, “at the moment the least of your interests is gold, be it in your coffers or in the rest of the world! “

"There’s a friend of hers sitting right behind you: let me ask my lady to introduce you. ”

“Who are you talking about?” asked General Calore, and turning, he looked for a moment at Mare, until, having met her gaze, he averted his and said coldly she was passable, but not pretty enough to tempt him.

“I’m not in the mood to take care of young ladies neglected by other men, so you better go back to your lady and enjoy her smiles, because with me, you’re wasting your time.”

Mr. Samos followed his advice, and General Calore walked away, leaving Mare with far from cordial feelings towards him. However, she told the story to her friends with great wit since she enjoyed seeing the comic side in everything and didn’t wanted to completely ruin a evening that passed pleasantly for the whole family: Gisa had been greatly admired by Lady Elane Haven and she had danced twice with Mr. Samos’ cousin, which made her as happy as her mother, albeit in a quieter way, and Mare shared the sentiment too; Tramy had never been without a lady, and that was all he cared about in a dance, and when they all returned in good spirits to the village where they lived, they found Bree and Shade still up, both very curious about the events of an evening that had raised such amazing expectations. Somehow, Shade had hoped that his sisters’ expectations on the stranger and his retinue were disappointed, but soon he found he had to hear an entirely different story, at least from Gisa’s side.

“It was an absolutely delightful evening,” she was already telling, as soon as she had crossed the threshold of the house, “a magnificent dance. I wish you had been there too.”

“Gisa was so admired that she couldn’t have been more,” explained their mother. “All they talked about was how beautiful her dress was, and Miss Samos’s friend said she would be honored to introduce her to her brother! Also, Mr. Samos’ cousin danced twice with her, just thinking about it makes me shiver with joy; she was the only one in the room that he asked for a second dance! Mr. Samos, on the other hand, invited Miss Skonos and although I was annoyed at first, I must say that I am relieved that a much older man doesn’t think at our youngest in that way. Oh! My dear!“ Mrs. Barrow went on, "I am really thrilled with his family! His sister is so beautiful and charming, I have never in my life seen anything more elegant than her dress. I really think the lace…”

But before she could start rambling about clothing, Mare interrupted her to inform her brothers about the General rudeness.

“But I can assure you,” added Mrs. Barrow, “that Mare hasn’t lost much for not having tickled his fancy, since he’s the most unpleasant man that exists, absolutely unworthy and unbearable. I wish your father had been there, he would’ve made him regret such an attitude bitterly! ”

#pride and prejudice au #p&p au #red queen #rq #mare barrow #cal calore #evageline samos #elane haven #ptolemus samos #wren skonos #shade barrow #bree barrow #tramy barrow #ruth barrow #daniel barrow #lucas samos

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 5, 2021: The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013) (Part One)

Once upon a time, there was a bamboo cutter.

In 2019, the anime Kaguya-sama: Love is War came out, and the third season’s supposed to come out later this year. I love this show a lot, honestly, and it’s actually based on an old Japanese story: 竹取物語, or The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. I’d go into it, but obviously I’m also about to watch the movie based on it from 2013.

It reminds me of a Japanese Thumbelina, to be honest, although I know that they aren’t perfectly analogous. At least, I hope not. It’s not a great movie. Plus, it was one of the first movies I remember watching as a kid, so I’m good.

But yeah, this should be interesting! I’m definitely digging this form of the fantasy genre. You know, films based on folklore and mythology of a given country. Not necessarily what everybody thinks of, but it’s definitely within the genre. Still, I kinda want to branch out from Japan in the next few days. Still, let’s start with this one, yeah?

This film is yet another Studio Ghibli film, but Miyazaki’s not involved. No, this one is an Isao Takahata joint, and he was another one of the founders of Ghibli alongside Miyazaki. This was the last film he directed before his death in 2018. And he never got the same publicity overseas as Miyazaki, but he deserves some love. I’ve seen one other film of his, his first with Studio Ghibli. And...

...that was an experience. An experience that I have NO WILL TO REPEAT. Grave of the Fireflies is an amazing film. It’s also about two siblings surviving in Japan during World War II, in poverty. And no, they don’t die of radiation poisoning because of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

It’s so...SO much more depressing than that. Yeah. Not exaggerating. BUT WE ARE NOT GOING INTO THAT BEAUTIFUL, TRAMAUTIZING MASTERPIECE NIGHTMARE!!! We’re going into some that I genuinely hope isn’t as depressing. I’ll find out first-hand, I guess! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/3)

Right from the opening credits, I already have a comment to make: the art style is meant to invoke classic Japanese paintings, and the effect is absolutely breathtaking. It’s a gorgeous movie right off the bat, but I won’t let that distract me...much.

Bamboo cutter Sanuki no Miyatsuko (James Caan) does just that: he cuts bamboo for a living, using it for many things. One day, in the forest, he sees a glowing bamboo stalk, which he tentatively approaches. The light creates a new bamboo shoot, inside of which, well...

Unsure of this little bamboo princess, he hesitantly approaches as she smiles at him and falls asleep in the flower. Thinking it a gift from heaven, Miyatsuko takes the tiny princess into his hands, and brings her home to his Wife (Mary Steenburgen). They decide to raise her, and as the Bamboo Cutter’s Wife takes the princess into her hands, she jumps about and seemingly transforms into a human infant.

The two are quite confused by this whole affair, but believe her to be a gift from heaven, being a miraculous little bamboo princess and all. She also apparently has the ability to cause instant lactation in the Wife, which is a TERRIFYING superpower when you think about it. Think about it: you’re walking down the street, when suddenly some person in a milkman or milkmaid costume jumps out from the shadow, points at you, and says “MILK!!!” and BAM! Now, Fred’s lactating.

Never said that power was limited by gender, now did I?

OK, weird-ass milk segue aside, this baby starts to grow REAL fuckin’ quickly, and a group of plum blossom trees bloom nearby The two pledge to raise the child as their own, in that Jonathan and Martha Kent-style, and they name her "Hime”, which means Princess.

Y’know, for an animated baby, she’s a cute-ass baby, I gotta say. I mean, look at this shit. Look at this CUTE-ASS SHIT.

My ovaries are twitching right now, and I don’t even HAVE that shit. Should I...should I see a doctor?

That tumbling act above leads her to learning to walk, all of which is evidenced by a group of neighborhood kids, who notice both her rapid physical and behavioral growth, and note that she’s growing as fast as bamboo. And yeah, she goes from infant to toddler in a few minutes as she’s learning to walk.

The kids nickname her “Lil’ Bamboo” (Takenoko in Japanese), and she continues to grow up quick. She learns to speak, and spends days with Miyatsuko as he cuts bamboo in the forest. On one of these days, she wanders off and meets a group of wild baby boars. And yeah, you’re right, IT IS cute as SHIT.

The mother boar doesn’t think so, and she charges the helpless Hime. However, she’s saved from a grisly fate by a young man named Sutemaru (Darren Criss), who also notes her rapid growth. And yeah, she goes from toddler to young child over the course of this interaction.

Sutemaru and the young kids from earlier go through the forest with Hime, bringing her along. And she seems to know the words to the song, somehow. She then chimes in with a song of her own, and I’m gonna see if I can find the lyrics in their original Japanese.

Well, I did, and translations aren’t great, but this is pretty similar to what’s being said in the original audio. So, yeah, we’ll go for it. By the way, the actress singing this and playing young Hime is Caitlyn Leone. Just wanted to give her some credit, because this is an interesting song that she sings.

At the end of it, she begins to cry, although she doesn’t know why. The kids basically brush it off, and go to bring her back to the bamboo grove, and to Miyatsuko. He’s searching for her, worries, when he comes across yet another glowing bamboo shoot. This time, when he cuts it open, gold spills out of it.

Time passes, and Hime continues to grow quickly, befriending the kids and Sutemaru, to whom she grows quite close over the summer. Meanwhile, another glowing bamboo shot appears, and from it come fine silks and fabrics. This, alongside the gold from before, leads Miyatsuki to believe that Heaven wants them to raise Hime to be a noble princess, one worthy of the fine fabrics they’ve received.

While his wife is unsure about that, his mind is made up, and he heads to the capital to build a mansion suitable for this lifestyle. Summer ends, and autumn harvest begins, by which time she’s grown up from child to pre-teen. She also changes voice actresses (in English, anyway), now being played by Chloë Grace Moretz.

Sutemaru notices this, too, and worries that she’ll keep growing and leave them behind. She says that that’ll never happen. And then, as she goes home that night...it does. Yeah, damn, and she promised and everything. But yeah, the little Bamboo family heads to the capital, where Hime is quickly taught the ways of a proper lady.

She’s confused by the changes, but her parents (dressed up in traditional robes and face paint, I’m assuming) quickly inform her that they own the mansion, as well as the many fine robes from the bamboo, and that they will be living there from now on. She takes it well. And that’s not an ironic segue, I actually mean that she takes it pretty damn well.

Maybe a little too well, as she frolics about and trips over a very proper woman, who chides her for unladylike behavior. This is her governess, Lady Sagami (Lucy Liu), and she’s been brought from the palace to teach Hime in the ways of being a noble lady.

Hime struggles with these lessons and the new high society lifestyle, especially as opposed to her previous country life. But then, sometimes she surprises the often frustrated Sagami, like with the koto, a traditional stringed instrument in Japan.

Soon enough, Hime comes of age, and the excited Miyatsuki plans a straight-up period party as celebration. Hime asks if she can invite her friends, but he adamantly refuses this request. Miyatsuki’s trying very hard to get Hime into the life of nobility, but her mother is a lot more understanding of her struggles.

Said struggles continue, as they attempt to prepare her for the upcoming party, and she refuses to get her eyebrows plucked, amongst other procedures. Ah, the trappings of a society that forces women into extremely restrictive gender roles, said the cisgender dude who’s ever taken a gender-studies course, but still basically gets the gist of the whole thing, probably.

In the lead-up to the party, Miyatsuki invites Inde no Akita (George Segal), a nobleman tasked with renaming princesses for formal ceremonies, based upon their true essence. He first sees her playing with a cat outside, for which Miyatsuki apologizes. Akita doesn’t seem to mind too much, though.

In a more formal meeting, Akita’s struck by her young beauty, and she plays to koto form him. He thus names her “The Shining Princess of the Supple Bamboo”. In Japanese, she’s called Kaguya-hime. Hence, the Princess Kaguya.

Party-time, and Princess Kaguya is presented with her new name publicly, but is not doing anything at the party, almost like a prize or trophy for the men who have attended the party. Said party goes on for...THREE DAYS? Jesus CHRIST, how much sake do they fuckin’ HAVE?

However, the party begins to go south when the partygoers question why her face is hidden behind blinds, and that she’s basically just a common girl whose father paid for a ceremony beyond their station. Basically, they’re being dicks. And Hime hears, well...all of it. And responds understandably, and...to be frank, beautifully.

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The art style turns sketchy and frantic as Hime runs away from the palace at hull speed, under the light of the full moon hanging above. It’s...gorgeous. Absolutely beautifully animated, I gotta say. And the music and sound, too! It’s just...beautiful.

She runs all the way back to her old village, where we can see that time has passed a bit. Not just in terms of Hime’s personal growth, but in terms of a baby from before, now visibly a little older. That isn’t all that’s changed, though, as all of Hime’s friends have apparently moved away.

Turns out that the mountain has been harvested to its fullest for wood, without destroying sustainability. Because of this, a man tells her that the families will likely not return for another 10 years. Interestingly enough, though, this conversation confirms that this movie has taken place over the course of a year, as Hime has never experienced the seasons in full.

After this realization, an exhausted Hime passes out in the show, only to wake up once again in the castle. Was it a dream? It would appear to be so.

Never have I seen a better place to pause. See you in Part 2!

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calligraphist-artemisia · 4 years

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Just Another Cinderella Story (Chapter 4 - Final)

-Summary: Once upon a time, there was a boy who was left in the care of his uncaring stepmother. Raised in a life of servitude and seeing his stepbrother lavished with praise and given everything he desired, the boy knew there was only one way he would ever be free. If their dreams of marrying into a life of luxury came true, then he would be left with his childhood home and he would finally be able to turn his life around.

Of course, Fate often has other plans in mind.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

- - - - -

4. Dianthus caryophyllus

Keith sat next to Curtis in the wooden cart, his father's clothing still damp and sticking uncomfortably to his skin. The horses pulling the cart plodded happily down the well-traveled path, completely unbothered by the darkness of the forest around them.

“You can stop here,” Keith said.

Curtis urged the horses to slow with a gentle tug of the reigns. “Are you sure? I'm sure Shiro is asleep, but you can still come over and get cleaned up before you go home.”

Keith shook his head. “I'll be okay. It's a shorter walk from here.”

“If you're sure...”

Another tug of the reigns brought the horses to a complete stop, allowing Keith to hop out of the wagon and back onto solid ground. He didn't immediately begin walking and instead remained where he landed as he gathered his thoughts enough to ask a single question: “Did you know about Pidge?”

“Yes,” Curtis said. “She came to us and called herself Pidge the first time she visited, but once Shiro was able to save her brother, Prince Matt, she admitted who she really was. When she kept up her trips to see us, we thought it best for her safety if we continued to use her nickname. None of us ever meant to lie to you, Keith. It was all to keep her safe.”

That much Keith could understand. However, he and Pidge spent hours talking at the ball and some of that time had been about the princess herself! Why hadn't she said anything?

Keith needed time to calm down and think.

“Thanks for the ride, Curtis. I...” Keith stopped and shook his head. “Tell Shiro I'll be by when I get a chance?”

“Of course,” Curtis agreed easily.

Keith bid him goodnight and then set off for home, trying to sort out his tangled mess of feelings. He needed to approach it logically, however difficult the sting of betrayal made that. (Was it really betrayal? Maybe that was too strong of a word.) He had known Pidge was of noble birth. That much had been clear from the start, so why was the news of her being the princess so difficult for him to accept?

He had spent the night dancing with Princess Katie.

Princess Katie, who Lotor was determined to make his bride.

Keith wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the bizarre situation he found himself in. At least he knew there was no way Pidge would ever marry his stepbrother, even if he hadn't given her a warning. She was far too smart to fall for Lotor's lies.

For the time, his home was safe. Keith could breathe easily at that.

He focused on that little fact for the rest of his walk home. When he finally got back to the dark manor, he set to work on arranging things so Lotor and Honerva would never know he'd been away. He lit the lanterns at the front door and then hurried inside to turn on a few of the other lights in the entryway and up the staircase to the family suite.

With that done, Keith could focus on himself. He hurried to his own room, which was a converted pantry next to the kitchen, and stripped out of his wet clothing to put on his threadbare sleeping clothes. He hung up his father's suit to dry and then reached back to remove the mask, but his fingers encountered nothing.

There was a rush of hot fear as he realized it had come loose when he and Pidge fell in the fountain. He could only hope no one had seen him as he fled the gardens. Without the mask, he had no protection. His identity was bare for everyone to see.

Keith took a deep breath. He had to believe that everything was alright. There was no one else in the gardens who could have seen him, aside from Pidge's white-haired guard, and he doubted the woman cared enough to look into who he was.

Everything would be fine.

- - - - -

Pidge laid in her bed, holding a red mask up in front of her face as she examined every little detail about it. What she initially thought were feathers, was actually tiny red flower buds groups together to form feather-like bundles. Tiny glittery spheres poked out between some of them.

If she hadn't known about Shiro's magic, she would have spent hours trying to figure out how it was made and where it came from.

She sighed as she sat up. Ever since her escapade in the garden, she'd been under stricter watch than normal, with two guards posted outside her bedroom door and another pair beneath her window. No matter where she went there was always someone watching her. Pidge was quickly reaching her breaking point and had several ideas of how she could get away for at least a little while, though she would have to wait a few more days before attempting that again.

It wouldn't be too difficult as long as she chose the right moment.

A knock of the door drew Pidge out of her musings and she quickly hid the mask beneath her pillow before calling out: “come in!”

Allura stepped inside her room, dressed in her more casual uniform and with her hair pulled back into a thick ponytail. She bowed to her princess before saying anything. “Your parents requested to see you. I believe it's about your behavior at the ball.”

Pidge did her best not to groan as she slowly slid out of bed. She smoothed out her dress to try and rid it of any obvious wrinkling and then double checked her hair in the mirror. Once she deemed herself presentable enough she followed Allura out of the room, the posted guards easily falling into step behind them as they walked through the halls.

The night of the ball, Pidge had taken the time to explain to her parents everything that happened. How she'd already known Keith thanks to her visits with Shiro and how he caught her when she fell, which was how they ended up in the fountain. While they were sympathetic, they also agreed that, above all else, no one else could find out that she was alone with a man for several hours, nor that they ended up in the fountain together.

It would cause a scandal.

Luckily, the only other person who knew about what happened was Allura, whose loyalty to the royal family was unparalleled.

It was for that reason that Pidge wasn't anxious about her parents wanting to speak with her. They likely wanted to ask for her opinion about her possible suitors now that everything was calming down so they could move forward with whatever plans they'd been making behind closed doors.

The great double-doors were opened as she approached and she nodded to the guards on either side as she strode into the throne room. Allura remained near the doors as they closed, keeping a respectful distance from the royal family while Pidge walked over to her parents – King Sam and Queen Colleen - and warmly greeted each of them with a hug.

“We have news, Katie,” King Sam said cheerfully. “Matt will be returning home in three days to give Princess Romelle a tour of our kingdom.”

Pidge found herself beaming back at her father. “That's great! I'm glad his courtship is going well.”

“Speaking of courtship, we have received news from the eligible nobles regarding your own. It seems news of your... dalliance has reached ears outside of the castle,” said Queen Colleen.

Pidge was about to open her mouth to defend herself and Keith, but the weight of her mother's words quickly sank in. In a single swoop, her good mood evaporated, leaving her feeling light-headed from shock. “But how?”

“We are looking into it,” King Sam said. “The thing is, it leaves us in a delicate position. None of them seem willing to overlook the fact that you were alone with an unknown man for several hours. We can hope that if we give it a few days the rumors will begin to die down, but we cannot rely on that.”

“Keith and I didn't do anything wrong!” Pidge protested. “We just talked. That's it.”

Queen Colleen's gaze softened. “We know, darling, but you have to look at this from an outside perspective. It's why we have increased your guard. You must tread carefully if we are going to navigate this to our advantage.”

In other words, Pidge would be watched day and night and would have to make a number of public appearances to restore her good name. Every one of her actions would have to be carefully considered. There would be no sneaking off to visit Shiro. And there was absolutely no way she would be able to get away and speak with Keith, to explain why she kept her identity a secret and apologize to him for not telling him sooner.

That was the worst part.

She genuinely enjoyed Keith's company. He was the first friend she made who had nothing to do with her duties as princess, even when considering Shiro and Curtis, who she met when searching for a way to help save her brother. She wanted the chance to get to know him better. To spend more time with him. She wanted to help him find a way to save his father's home and, if at all possible, to get out from under the thumb of his stepfamily.

Maybe she could still do that.

She was likely to spend a lot of time alone in her room with guards posted at every conceivable exit, so she may as well make good use of her time.

Pidge tilted up her chin. “I'll do whatever I need to do,” she promised her parents.

Pleased with her answer, they turned the subject to how they would welcome Matt back and ensure that his bride-to-be was also made to feel at home. Even as she helped plan a simple dinner, Pidge's thoughts strayed to how she might be able to help Keith, and when she was able to get back to her room she immediately sat at her desk and began writing.

- - - - -

Despite his resolve that no one other than the guard had seen them in the garden that night, Keith couldn't help but feel a bit anxious over the next few days. Neither Lotor nor Honerva were acting any different and his chores went on the same as always, but there was something about the way Honerva looked at him sometimes that sent a shiver running down his spine. It wasn't her usual looks of complete disdain. No, it was something more calculating, as though he were a particularly difficult riddle she was trying to figure out.

Keith did his best to stay out of her way and complete his chores in a timely manner and without asking questions.

It seemed to work.

The looks stopped as Honerva turned her full focus back to her precious son and her schemes to get him into the good graces of the royal family. Keith continued to stay out of her way just in case she changed her mind, as she often did, and had several days of peace as he easily completed his tasks with minimal interference from Lotor, who only went out of his way once to dirty up a section of floor that he had just cleaned.

But Keith knew from experience that peace never lasted in their house. Sooner or later, the shoe would drop and he would take the blame for whatever great catastrophe they dreamed up.

It came as he was serving dinner one night.

Keith was normally good at tuning out their conversation, his years of practice at not reacting to their insults lending to that ability. But then he heard Lotor speak of the princess and those walls he built crumbled around him.

“I think it is time to move on with our plans for the princess, mother,” Lotor said. “We have left her wallowing for nearly a week now and none have dared to reach out with offers after those awful rumors. Now is the perfect time to strike.”

Honerva nodded. “Agreed. I will send a missive first thing in the morning. It won't be long before your courtship will be made official.” She smirked at her son. “Those other nobles will regret listening to the chatter of rumors. As though the princess would ever do something so uncouth as to be unchaperoned with a strange man.”

Keith's heartbeat sounded thunderous to his ears and he carefully turned away from his stepfamily to hide his face. He slowly moved towards the kitchens, an excuse of fetching more wine poised on the tip of his tongue in case either of them questioned his actions. He didn't need to use it and got away without either of them noticing.

He gripped the counter to keep himself upright and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to get a hold of himself as it fully sank in just how badly he'd messed things up.

Pidge's reputation was in tatters because of him.

Because of him, Lotor may end up being her only option for marriage.

There had to be something he could do. There had to be some way he could fix things, but it was something that was so out of his depth that he knew he would need help to find a solution, and for that there was only one person he knew to turn to.

Shiro was sure to have an idea.

Keith breathed in deeply and then slowly breathed out.

He would get through the rest of the night without alerting his stepfamily to anything being wrong or out of the ordinary and once they were both asleep in their beds he would sneak out and go to Shiro. With luck, he would be back by morning, even if it meant he didn't get any sleep.

His racing heart calmed back to a normal pace and Keith turned his attention to refilling the wine pitcher before carrying it back to the table.

The rest of his night went as usual, with him being ignored unless Lotor or Honerva wanted something, and he wrapped up the last of his cleaning just in time for Honerva to sweep through and judge his work with her usual criticism and scorn. He took her words without flinching and then bid her goodnight, making sure to go about preparing for sleep like normal just in case she suspected something.

It wasn't until midnight that Keith dared to get out of his “bed” - a pile of old blankets arranged in front of the kitchen hearth – and redress into something more appropriate for traversing the woods in the dark. He didn't dare leave from the front door, knowing it would cause too much noise as he shut it, and so headed for the side door from the kitchen, which would take him through their nearly barren garden and past the stables.

Keith glanced around and grabbed his basket at the last minute, hoping the old excuse of getting up early to gather herbs from the forest would work as well as usual.

And then he opened the door and stepped outside.

Something grabbed at him from the darkness, slamming him back against the wall hard enough that the back of his head collided with the wall and spots danced in front of his eyes. The basket slid from hand and bounced softly against the ground. Keith gasped and blindly swung out, trying to free himself, but was pinned so hard that there was no moving unless his assailant allowed it.

“You have been a thorn in my spine for too long, boy.”

The familiar hiss of his stepmother's voice drained every last ounce of fight from Keith as a cold chill settled over him. He did nothing as she yanked and shoved him back into the house, surprisingly strong for a woman of her upbringing.

“Did you think I would not find out? That I have no allies in court who would tell me of what they saw?” she demanded. “Did you really think for a moment that a lowly peasant could get away with speaking with the princess without repercussion? And to be alone with her!”

Another shove sent Keith sprawling to the floor, catching himself hard on his hands and knees.

“You nearly ruined everything for Lotor.”

Keith grit his teeth, anger bubbling up through the feeling of helplessness that was swiftly consuming him. He knew he wouldn't be getting away to see Shiro. There was a small part of him that feared he would never be permitted to see the light of day again. Who would even care about a dead servant?

“Princess Katie will never marry him,” he spat.

Dead silence met his words.

Honerva hauled him up with her inhuman strength and dragged him to the cellar door, which was propped open and waiting. Keith struggled in her grasp, doing his best to break away and try and reach the door, but none of his attempts worked.

“Be thankful I'm letting you live.”

With one final shove, Keith tumbled down the cellar steps and landed on cold, hard concrete. Before he could get to his feet, the door swung shut above him and a grinding sound told him that a board was being slid into place to prevent him from opening it.

He was well and truly trapped.

- - - - -

Things were not going as Pidge had planned.

Matt was home and brought with him his lovely bride-to-be, which was wonderful, but on the same day that he returned they received a request of courtship from one of Pidge's approved suitors, which had only the King and Queen pleased.

“He's terrible, mother,” Pidge protested the moment she heard the name. “He doesn't care about me or the kingdom, all he wants is the power that comes with it all.”

“You don't know that for sure, Katie. You will give this young man a chance and I will not hear another word about it,” said Queen Colleen.

Pidge didn't argue. She knew they hoped that news of one suitor offering courtship would pave the way for others to speak up again, but she hated the thought of being forced to spend time with Lotor when she already knew she couldn't trust him.

Knowing she wouldn't get anywhere with her parents, she complained to Matt during one of their strolls through the garden instead.

He listened without making a remark, waiting until she was finished detailing the night of the ball when all Lotor wanted to do was showcase his many talents, and then said: “He does sound pretty awful, but are you sure you're not projecting your dislike of the situation onto him?”

Pidge glared at him. “I am not.”

“Take it easy, Pidge, I believe you,” Matt said, lifting his hands in defense. “I know it's overwhelming. Suddenly, there's a lot of pressure on you now to find a suitable match and it wasn't there before. Now it's no longer about finding someone whose company you enjoy, but someone who can rule an entire country by your side and there's so much more to consider and think over.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Pidge muttered bitterly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She looked guiltily at her brother. “I didn't mean – I really like Romelle, Matt. I'm glad you're marrying her. I just can't help but wish you were still inheriting the crown instead of going off to another kingdom to rule there.”

“That would make things easier. Then maybe you'd be able to marry this mysterious guy I've been hearing so much about instead of Baron I-am-so-much-more-important-than-everyone-else,” Matt joked.

“Keith's my friend,” Pidge corrected automatically.

Matt hummed, the teasing grin not fading from his face. “So, when do I get to meet him?”

“I... I don't know if you'll be able to,” Pidge said, slumping her shoulders at the reminder. “I met him when I went to visit Shiro. All I really know is his name and...”

She trailed off as she stopped walking, realizing she knew a good deal more than that after their talk in the garden. Something she'd been ignoring. While he'd been careful not to mention any names when he explained that his stepmother was determined to have her son marry Princess Katie, he did slip up later when asking her to give a warning.

“Pidge?” Matt asked, waving a hand in front of her face. “Katie?”

“Lotor is his brother.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Are we still talking about your friend?”

“Keith and Lotor are stepbrothers. I can't believe I didn't put it together until now! I feel so stupid!” She turned to face Matt, a determined glint in her eyes. “I need you to help me. We need to go see Shiro.”

“Aren't you grounded?”

“Then I'll go by myself.”

Matt reached out and grabbed her shoulders as she turned to walk away, making her face him once again. “You have to calm down and think this through rationally. Why do you need to go see Shiro?”

“Because he can help,” Pidge said, purposefully keeping her answer vague. She honestly wasn't sure how Shiro would be able to help, but going to talk to him first felt like the right thing to do.

“I feel like I'm still missing part of the puzzle here. Why do you need help? Is your friend in danger? And how do you know he's in danger if you haven't seen him since the night of the ball?” Matt asked.

All good questions.

Pidge took a deep breath and tried to organize her thoughts in a rational manner so she could better explain why she needed to leave the palace. She led Matt over to the fountain so they would have a place to sit and then she began to explain everything she knew, starting with the fact that Keith came to the palace just to see her that night without having any idea that she was the princess.

As before, Matt listened to what she had to say without complaint, taking in all of the details she was willing to give.

“Okay,” he said when she was finished. “I'll help you get to Shiro, but you have to be patient. Give me a few days to figure something out.” He paused for a moment when Pidge let out an agonized groan. “I'm sure you can handle dealing with Lotor until then.”

Pidge nodded, privately thinking that the sooner she could get to Shiro and ask for his advice, the better.

- - - - -

Pidge's jaw ached from plastering a fake smile on her face after one full afternoon in Lotor's company. She hoped Matt had a good plan for getting her out of the castle, because there was no way she was putting up with another round of the young Baron boasting about his studies and wealth. She only wished her parents saw through his ruse, but unfortunately he had them both charmed.

She was giving Matt one more night to figure things out and then she was going out on her own. Somehow.

Luckily for her, it didn't come down to that. Just as the sun began to dip over the horizon there was a knock on her bedroom door and Pidge answered to find Matt standing there with a solid black cloak in his arms.

“Wear this,” he instructed, handing it to her. “And move quickly. I bought you a little time before the guards come back.”

Pidge giddily pulled on the cloak and tugged up the weighted hood, letting it obscure her features as she and Matt tiptoed through the halls and outside into the humid summer air. Matt led the way to ensure she wouldn't be spotted, but they encountered no problems and were soon safely inside the stables.

“Romelle will cover for us, but we need to be back by the morning,” Matt said as he headed towards his horse, which was already saddled up and waiting for him.

Pidge found her horse there as well and took a moment to soothe the fidgety mare before stepping up and swinging herself into the saddle. She looked to Matt for further instruction, unsure whether or not they were waiting for a signal or if they needed to leave immediately.

“We should go. The others are waiting for us,” he told her, nudging his horse into a walk.

“Others?” Pidge asked.

“You didn't think we'd be going alone, did you?” Matt asked, flashing her a charming smile.

The others turned out to be their personal guards – Allura and Lance, who were astride their own horses and waiting near the gate. Allura had a frown on her face and was pointedly looking away from Lance, who was grinning broadly as though he'd won an argument for once.

Pidge rode over next to Allura, knowing her guard would feel more at ease if she was close. “I'm surprised you agreed to this.”

“I couldn't leave you with only that one as your guard,” Allura said, nodding her head toward the brunet.

Pidge bit her lip to keep from laughing. Allura may complain about Lance quite often, but the pair of them actually got along well. That was, when Lance wasn't flirting with her and every other young woman in the vicinity. “Well, I'm glad you're going with us.”

The four of them set off at an easy trot and kept quiet until they were safely within the borders of the forest, where they were able to speak freely.

“So, how did you enjoy Polluxea, Lance?” Pidge asked.

Lance eagerly launched into a description of the lush gardens and farmland of their northern neighbor and the friendliness of those who lived there. He made a few references to some of the lovely women he met there, but cut it short each time Allura rolled her eyes or made a sound of disinterest.

Matt and Pidge exchanged amused glances each time it happened.

“...prefer being home. I missed this place more than I thought I would,” Lance said with a short laugh.

“What are you going to do when you go back?” Pidge asked.

“I'm not going back,” Lance replied. “I went to help choose a Polluxean guard to watch after Matt and he'll be taking over for me. His name's Tavo and he seems pretty cool, so I'm permanently home now.”

“Mother and father want Lance to be the personal guard for whichever suitor you choose,” Matt added.

Pidge considered Lance for a moment. “Maybe I should introduce you to Lotor and let you scare him off.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

Pidge winked at him and spurred her horse on, racing ahead of the others with a joyous whoop!

It wasn't long before the other three were galloping alongside of her, following the winding path that led to Shiro's cabin. They arrived in good time and Pidge was relieved to spot light through one of the windows. At least they wouldn't be waking them.

“The barn is over to that side of the house. You can put the horses there and then join us inside,” Matt said as he swung down from his horse. He handed the reigns over to Lance and then turned to watch Pidge do the same with Allura.

Pidge led the way to the door, but before she could knock it opened to reveal Shiro waiting for them on the other side. He let them in and told them to get comfortable while he fetched the snacks Curtis made earlier that evening.

“It's rare to get such a late-night visit,” he remarked as he returned with a tray of small sandwiches.

“I couldn't get away any other time,” Pidge said. And then, unable to wait any longer, asked: “Shiro, have you heard from Keith since the ball?”

He blinked in surprise at the abrupt question, but recovered quickly enough. “I haven't. Why? Is there something wrong?”

Pidge shook her head. “No, not-”

“Yes,” Matt cut in.

Pidge whipped her head around to stare at her brother, her lips parting in surprise. What was he talking about? Nothing was really wrong, per-say, she just wanted to talk to Keith and clear some things up. She wanted to apologize. And then she wanted to ask if he and Lotor were truly stepbrothers and if he had any advice for how to prove what a snake he was.

So why was Matt saying there was something wrong?

“I grew up learning about all of the nobility of our kingdom. Five years ago, father had me study each of them in-depth so that I would have talking points when meeting any of them. I'm sure you'll be learning this all soon, Pidge,” he said, nodding to her. “The thing is, I remember reading about this one estate. A small one, with a garden large enough for the household and for selling any excess to the townsfolk. It worked well for them, but that wasn't the most interesting thing.”

He paused as Curtis entered the room from a side door with Lance and Allura, who were offered seats and joined them. Lance happily accepted a sandwich as the tray was held out to him.

“Baron Travis Hawkins married a woman of unknown status from Daibazaal. She was his first wife and they had one child together. A son.”

Daibazaal was a neighboring empire to the west of their kingdom. Twenty-five years ago, it had been in the middle of upheaval as a rebellion overthrew the then-emperor and instated a sovereign of their own choosing. Emperor Kolivan brought them into an age of tranquility as they reached out and made peace with their neighbors and began to let go of their path to conquering the entire continent.

“She passed away a few years after giving birth to their son and five years after that, Baron Hawkins remarried, only to pass away nearly a year later. His widow is Baroness Honerva Hawkins, who had a son from her previous marriage.”

“Lotor,” Pidge breathed out. “But then... then that means...”

“Keith was meant to inherit his father's position as Baron once he turned eighteen, but obviously that hasn't happened,” Matt said with a frown. “Instead, the title is set to be handed over to Lotor, but since it's being done against the wishes of the previous Baron Hawkins, it's not entirely legal. Keith has until his twentieth birthday to contest it before a court of his peers.”

“But why didn't you say anything before now? We could have done something!” Pidge cried out.

“Like what?” Matt asked. “Pidge, we don't have any proof that they're doing something wrong. For all anyone else knows, Keith turned down his title and wants it to go to Lotor instead. The only people who have talked to him are you and Shiro and that isn't enough. I waited because we need to come up with a plan and the people in this room are the only ones I trust to help. The first thing we need to determine is how much danger Keith is in. Shiro?”

Shiro took a moment to mull the question over. “I've been treating his injuries since the first time that we met, but even I would have a hard time saying how far they would be willing to take their abuse. The only reason he would be in immediate danger is if they realized he went to the gala, but that's impossible with the mask I created for him.”

Cold rushed through Pidge's veins. “The red one?”

Shiro nodded.

“It fell off,” Pidge admitted, barely able to speak above a whisper as she met Shiro's wide eyes. “I stumbled and we fell into the fountain and it was knocked loose. I still have it in my room.”

“Then we act immediately,” Allura suggested as she stood and began to pace. “We'll need a way to distract Baroness Hawkins and her son for a day while a few of us see what we can find out around the estate. If Keith is well, we'll be able to speak with him and clear things up. If not...”

“We'll need a warrant,” Lance said with a sigh.

Allura nodded. “We can't just break into someone's house, no matter what we think is going on.”

“Would it really be breaking in if you show up and a door is wide open?” Curtis asked. “It would give you a reason to check and make sure everything is alright, wouldn't it?”

“Even then it would be our word against theirs,” Allura responded.

The debate stretched on into the night as they went back and forth, analyzing details and discarding the majority of their ideas. Eventually, they put together something that could work in their favor and while Allura wasn't thrilled about the possibility of law-breaking that was involved, even she agreed that it was the best chance they had.

All Pidge had to do was spend one more day in the company of Lotor. She could handle that.

Probably.

- - - - -

Two days passed before things lined up for them to proceed with their plan.

Allura and Pidge would remain at the palace, where Pidge would be entertaining Lotor and his mother for the afternoon. King Sam and Queen Colleen were pleased with the decision, hoping it meant their daughter was finally warming up to the only suitor who offered courtship, and made themselves available for a small luncheon to chat with their prospective in-laws.

Matt charmed his way out of joining them by insisting that he'd promised Princess Romelle a romantic tour of the kingdom, which wasn't a lie but was definitely part of their multi-step plan. Naturally, Lance and a pair of Polluxean guards – Tavo and Merla – joined them for their ride into the territory surrounding the palace.

Curtis and Shiro had the most freedom of any of them. They would wait until they were sure Honerva and Lotor were out of the manor and then they would sneak around and see what they could find out. Allura and Lance had insisted they not know all of the details to what “sneaking around” entailed, so they could rightfully claim ignorance if Shiro and Curtis found something by less-than-legal means.

They began on the grounds itself, searching for any sign of Keith, and when they found nothing Shiro led the way to the front door. With a wave of his hand, the bolt clicked into an unlocked position and the heavy door swung open to admit them.

“Impressive,” Curtis complimented.

Shiro grinned and then stepped inside, casting a second spell which created an orb of light, which hovered in front of them for a moment before beginning to drift down the hall towards the right. “Tracking spell,” he clarified for Curtis.

“Remind me why you don't use your magic like this more often?” Curtis asked.

“It makes people nervous. And it's more exhausting than it seems,” Shiro said with a light shrug. “Come on. We need to find Keith.”

They crept along, staying as quiet as they could just in case they weren't as alone as they thought. Just as Curtis was about to turn and ask Shiro another question, they both heard a gasp from up ahead, as a young woman wearing a plain apron came face-to-face with the seeking orb and then looked past it to see both of them.

Shiro took two hurried steps forwards and waved his hand in front of her face.

The woman wavered from side-to-side, her eyes slowly fluttering shut before her legs gave out and Curtis had to catch her and ease her down to the floor.

Shiro blinked back a wave of dizziness. He took a moment to let it settle and then wordlessly began to follow the seeking orb once again with Curtis close by his side. It led them to a door barricaded by a flat board that slid into holders on either side of the frame and then sank through.

“Let me,” Curtis said, stopping Shiro from lifting the board. He removed it on his own and set it aside before opening the door to allow Shiro inside first.

Leaning against the far wall, shivering from the chill of the cellar, was Keith.

Shiro nearly tripped down the steps in his haste to reach his friend, his hands fumbling with the bag at his side as he went for one of the potions he packed as a “just in case”. He kneeled in front of Keith, only slightly put at ease by the sight of his chest rising and falling and the occasional tremors from the chill.

“Keith, can you hear me?” he asked.

Keith groaned in response, straining to do something as simple as opening his eyes. He closed them again and muttered something about it being too bright.

Shiro snapped his fingers and the seeking orb fizzled out, leaving only the light streaming in through the door. “You're okay now. We're going to get you out. Keith, do you know how long you've been in here?”

“Days?” Keith guessed, his voice hoarse from disuse and lack of water. “Sorry, Shiro.”

“This is not your fault,” Shiro said firmly. He searched through his bag and came up with a potion in a green clay container, which he uncorked and held to Keith's lips. “Drink this. It will help soothe your throat.”

Keith drank without questioning what it was and made a face at the taste of it once he was through. “S'weird,” he muttered.

“I know, but it'll help. And so will this one,” Shiro said as he selected another container – one colored a sunny yellow. He helped Keith drink it and decided that it was enough to be able to move him. Any further healing could wait until they were someplace safe.

The empty containers went back into his bag and then Shiro gestured for Curtis to come over and help him lift Keith. They shuffled awkwardly as they adapted to how they could and could not move as a unit and then slowly made their way up the steps, back through the halls, and out the front door.

It took Keith a few minutes to realize they were going in the opposite direction from the path to Shiro's house. “Where are we going?”

“We're meeting up with someone who can help,” Curtis said.

Keith seemed to go even paler. “Someone else knows?”

“Without them, we never would have had this opportunity to come find you. It's thanks to them that any of this is happening,” Shiro said. “We can trust them, Keith. No one will think less of you for needing help.”

He perked up as the sound of hooves and the rattling of a carriage met their ears just as a pair of guards astride white horses crested the rise of the hill in front of them, followed by a gleaming open carriage. A third guard rode behind them on a dark gray mare.

“Just in time,” Curtis murmured. He glanced at Shiro, who nodded, and then transferred all of Keith's weight to his partner so he could run ahead and get their attention.

The guards came to an abrupt stop and the one with dark skin and hair demanded to know who he was.

“It's alright, Tavo, he's a friend.”

Shiro was relieved to hear Matt's voice. It meant everything was going according to plan.

Keith made a confused sound when he saw Matt jump down from the carriage to speak with Curtis. “Pidge?”

“Her brother,” Shiro correctly gently. “That is Prince Matthew. He's the reason we came to get you. We'll be traveling with him back to the palace and make use of their healers.”

Keith sucked in a deep breath in surprise. “Shiro, I can't! This isn't necessary!”

“You need more help and rest than I can give on my own,” Shiro told him. He adjusted his grip so he could begin weaving a spell with his free hand. “Rest easy, Keith. Everything will be alright from here out.”

“Using magic's unfair,” Keith slurred as his head drooped and he dropped into an easy sleep.

Guilt and his moral sense warred with his logical mind about whether or not it was necessary to use magic on his friend, and eventually logic won the battle as he helped lift Keith into the carriage and get him comfortable on the bench across from Princess Romelle, who watched everything with curiosity but not confusion.

“I apologize for cutting your excursion short, Princess Romelle,” Shiro said.

Princess Romelle smiled softly in return. “It is worth it if it means helping someone in need. There will be other days when I will be able to view this glorious kingdom.”

A diplomatic answer. One which sounded a little too well rehearsed for her to have been completely left in the dark about their plans.

Shiro glanced at Matt, who was too busy gazing fondly at his bride-to-be to take part in any conversation, so instead he lowered his eyes to Keith and took account of his newest injuries and the best ways to treat them.

Curtis took a seat next to the driver and they began to move.

- - - - -

Keith woke to the white walls and ceiling of an unfamiliar room. Heavy, warm green blankets covered him up to his neck and smelled pleasantly of some sort of sweet flower. Delicate curtains fluttered in the breeze coming in from an open window and he could hear birdsong, over top of which was the brush of paper against paper.

It took a great deal of effort just to turn his head, but when he did he was rewarded with the sight of Pidge seated at his bedside, her hair pulled up in a high bun, her amber eyes focused on the pages of the book in her hands. On the small table next to her was a bouquet of red carnations and silver-tipped ferns artfully arranged in a clay vase.

For a moment, all he could do was watch her as his awareness and ability to move slowly returned to him. When he did open his mouth, there was only one thing he could say and although it came out as barely more than a whisper, Pidge jumped as though startled by a loud sound.

“Keith!” she exclaimed, all but throwing her book aside as she rose from her chair. “How do you feel? Can I get you anything?”

“Water,” he croaked out, hoping that a drink would help clear his throat enough that he could speak more normally.

Pidge nodded and walked across the room to fetch a pitcher and a glass. “Shiro made lemon-honey water for you to drink until he can come make a hot tea. Apparently, this one can be kept warm with one of his charms but tea is best drank soon after brewing.”

Keith fought the urge to groan at having to drink another one of Shiro's concoctions and instead gave a small nod that made his head spin and had him horribly disoriented for a long minute. He blinked away the dark spots to find Pidge back by his bedside, holding out the cup with a concerned expression.

To his embarrassment, she had to hold the cup so he could drink.

The lemon-honey water wasn't nearly as bad as he expected, somehow achieving a nice balance between the sweetness of the honey and the sour of the lemon without being too thick. It quickly went to work on soothing his throat and after a few swallows, he felt like he could talk again.

“Where am I?”

“The palace,” Pidge responded promptly. She held the cup for a moment longer and then set it on the side table next to the vase and retook her seat. “You're in one of our guestrooms and Shiro and Curtis are borrowing one just across the hall. You've been here for two days, healing in some kind of magical coma that Shiro put you in.”

Keith felt even less comfortable once he fully understood where he was. He was just a servant. Hardly someone who belonged in such a nice room. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing. Keith, I… I’m the one who needs to apologize. I should have told you who I really was instead of letting you find out on your own. That wasn’t right. I just got so nervous that you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore or that you’d treat me differently once you knew who I was and I didn’t want to lose that,” Pidge explained, bowing her head slightly. “It’s no excuse and I know that. I’m really sorry, Keith.”

Keith wished he could reach out and comfort her, but even if he weren’t recovering from days of being locked in darkness with no food and water, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bring himself to touch the princess. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Then neither do you,” Pidge said.

Keith tried to think of a reply but came up empty-handed. The moment passed as the door opened and Shiro stepped inside with a tray. He brightened up when he saw Keith awake.

“Oh good! I brought you both some food,” he said as he bustled inside. “It’ll be soup for you until you regain some of your strength, Keith. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Sore,” Keith admitted, knowing there was no lying to the man.

Shiro nodded. “That’s all normal. You’ll probably spend the next few days sleeping while the magic does its work.” He handed off one bowl to Pidge and then walked around to the chair on the other side of the bed.

Keith warily eyed the bowl in his hands. “You’re not going to put me to sleep again, are you?”

“No, not like before. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t think I’d be able to get you here without stressing you out so badly that you’d become even more ill,” Shiro told him. He set everything down so he could prop Keith up with an extra pillow they collected just for the occasion.

While Shiro helped Keith sit up and eat, Pidge carefully kept her gaze averted and ate her own food in slow, small bites. By the time she finished, Keith was nearly done with his own, his stomach almost unpleasantly full despite the smaller amount in his bowl.

“M’done,” he muttered when Shiro tried to get him to keep eating. He closed his eyes for a moment. “What now? I mean, what about my home? I can’t go back again.”

“No. At least, not right now,” Shiro agreed, giving Pidge a pointed look over the bed.

Keith followed his gaze. “Not right now…?”

“I think I’ll leave you two to talk,” Shiro said as he stood. He walked back around to collect Pidge’s bowl and left after promising he’d be back in an hour to deliver a special tea for Keith to drink.

“What did he mean by ‘not right now’?” Keith tried again.

Pidge took a deep breath as though steeling her nerves for something that would be difficult to say. “My brother, Matt, has been doing some research ever since I told him about you. Nothing bad! He was just curious, especially when we realized Lotor is your stepbrother.”

A cold chill swept through Keith. “How did…?”

“It was just a few of the things you said when we talked that night. And then Matt’s research seemed to confirm all of that… You’re the son of Baron Travis Hawkins and the rightful heir to his estate and title,” Pidge said.

And then all Keith felt was confusion. “That’s not right. The title goes to the oldest and that would be Lotor.”

“The title passes to the firstborn son,” Pidge corrected. “That’s you, Keith. You’re the one whose name is listed in the court records. It’s been unchanged for twelve years. The last update to the record was to note that he remarried and that Honerva would act as Baroness until you came of age to take up the title. You are the Baron of the Hawkins estate, not Lotor.”

Keith turned his head to look straight up at the ceiling, feeling a little dizzy from the news.

The estate was his.

They had taken his childhood home from him unlawfully and made him feel as though he was worthless for so long when he was meant to be learning to take over for his dad.

Baron Keith Hawkins.

That was going to take a lot of getting used to.

“We have a plan, but it will all have to wait until you’re well enough to walk and get around on your own again,” Pidge said.

Keith attempted a nod. “Yeah.”

He was aware of Pidge talking a little more, telling him about the history of the estate and how his ancestor’s earned their title because of the messenger hawks they raised and trained for the royal family. He drifted off to sleep to the sound of her soft voice.

- - - - -

As Shiro mentioned, Keith spent several days drifting in and out of sleep. Sometimes Pidge was there. Sometimes it was Shiro or Curtis. Occasionally he woke to find Prince Matt sitting there, silently keeping him company. The first time had been so awkward that Keith pretended to still be asleep until Shiro came in to make him drink more of his strange tea concoctions - licorice remained his least favorite and he’d be happy if Shiro never made it for him again.

Each day his strength returned a little more until Shiro cleared him for being allowed to get up and move around the room. His appetite grew with his strength and soon he was able to handle a full meal that wasn’t soup.

During the times he was awake he got caught up with their plans to expose Honerva and Lotor and make it so they could never hurt anyone else again, adding his own details so they could prepare for their attempts to weasel their way out of trouble. By the time Keith was able to stay awake for more than an hour, they were just about ready to put their plans into motion.

They would call Lotor and Honerva to court, hoping they would believe it was the will of the King and Queen to approve a formal courtship between Lotor and the princess. There, they would reveal the truth.

It all hinged on Keith’s ability to remain standing long enough to see them brought to justice.

“You’ll need appropriate clothing, as well,” Matt mentioned, looking him up and down. “I could get my tailor to make you something, but I’m not sure he’ll be able to finish in time. Anything I already have won’t be appropriate for you either, otherwise I’d offer.”

“I can take care of that,” Shiro promised.

“Another glamour?” Keith guessed.

Shiro nodded. “It’ll be simple enough to make you something that reflects your heritage. Are there any portraits of your father that I could see to get an idea of what I should create?”

It was Matt who answered. “There was a decent one in the court record. I’ll show you later.”

Conversations with Pidge were vastly different, full of colorful stories and long rambling rants about all of the things they hated about Lotor. Keith found himself laughing every time Pidge mimicked Lotor’s voice and tried to repay her by telling her the more amusing stories of growing up with him as a stepbrother, like all of the tantrums he’d thrown over the years.

By the time the day came to confront his stepfamily, Keith didn’t feel nearly as nervous as he expected to.

After so many years of their abuse and of being told he wasn’t good enough and fearing that his father’s house would forever be a prison to him instead of a home, Keith was finally able to stand up tall and proud and reclaim it all for himself.

Shiro was his first and only visitor that morning, as Pidge and Matt prepared on their own for what was coming. They ate together and then Shiro had him stand still while he used his magic to weave a brand new glamour for the occasion.

Keith had expected colors similar to the suit Shiro created for the ball, but instead the color palette and style were vastly different.

The top was a high-neck, military-style jacket in deep plum and with a black inner lining. The epaulets on each shoulder were lavender with silver fringe, which matched the belt around his waist. His pants and shoes were solid blacks.

Keith eyed his reflection with mild unease, feeling entirely out of his element as Shiro stepped up and began to style his hair by hand. “Do you really think I can do this?”

“I have always believed in you, Keith. You are more than ready,” Shiro said. He tied off Keith’s hair with a strip of fabric that matched the purple of his clothing, leaving it in a simple low ponytail. “Now you just need to believe it too.”

Keith nodded but said nothing else as he followed Shiro out of the room and through the wide halls of the palace to the throne room, where a crowd of available nobles had gathered in the hope that they would be among the first to hear news about the newest royal courtship.

He paused outside the door to steel his nerves for what was waiting for him on the other side.. “I am ready.”

Shiro smiled and opened the door for him.

The low murmur of voices met Keith's ears as he stepped into the room. Several people glanced his way and then turned again to stare, but Keith didn't pay them any attention and put all of his focus on the royal family at the other end of the room. His eyes landed on the King and Queen first, who sat upon their throne with benevolent smiles and occasionally bent their heads together to whisper something. To their right stood Prince Matt and a beautiful woman with blond hair and a soft pink gown, who Keith rightfully assumed to be Princess Romelle of Polluxea.

When he looked at Pidge, he nearly stopped walking. It was only because of how many times he recited his role in their plans that he continued on, but from that moment on his eyes never left her.

Emerald green suited her, he couldn't help but think as he watched her stand there in a gown that shimmered as though it was covered in gems. Around her neck was a simple, round green stone on a golden chain.

Enter the room. Back straight, head held high. Act as though there is no other place you belong. (Easy for Prince Matt to say.)

Walk to the throne and stop at the foot of the stairs, no less than three feet from the guards on either side. Bow respectfully to the King and Queen. Then to Prince Matt and finally to Pidge.

Keith followed Prince Matt's instructions to the letter, but as he turned to bow to Pidge, someone forced their way through the crowd and reached out as if to yank him away, but their hand was never allowed to make contact.

In the blink of an eye, Lance was there in front of him as guards closed in around the royal family to shield them from the potential danger.

“Madam, I ask that you compose yourself,” Lance snapped.

Keith couldn't help but flinch away at the utterly thunderous look on Honerva's face as Lance continued to hold onto her wrist, unwilling to let go until he was sure she wouldn't strike out in rage. Lotor appeared over her shoulder in the crowd, but he stayed back and tried to keep his face impassive, though Keith could see his fury roiling beneath the surface.

It took a moment, but Honerva calmed herself enough that Lance let go. “That boy is nothing more than a servant. I merely wished to save their Majesties from being forced to listen to any of the lies that spill forth from his mouth.”

“I fear you have been misinformed, Madam,” Prince Matt spoke up. “If you would wait but a moment, he was about to introduce himself to the court.”

Honerva scoffed. “There is no need to play along with his foolish games. Allow me to take him home and deliver appropriate punishment for his misdeeds.”

Again, whispers broke out in the room as people latched onto her words and took them as the truth. Why wouldn't they? After all, Baroness Honerva was a lady of noble birth and was well-known in their circles, as was her son, Lotor. If she said the well-dressed man in front of them was nothing more than a servant boy playing dress-up, then why wouldn't they believe her?

King Sam stood from his throne and held up a hand, silently calling for everyone to be quiet. “I would like to hear what this young man has to say.”

Chin up.

Back straight.

Keith folded his right arm over his midsection and bowed one last time. “Your Majesties, my name is Keith Hawkins, son of the late Baron Travis Hawkins and his first wife, Krolia Hawkins. I am here to ask that you see justice carried out in regards to the Hawkins estate, of which I am the rightful heir.”

He might as well have said he was the grandson of the emperor of a foreign land with the amount of pandemonium that broke out in the throne room. Honerva's angry screech could barely be made out as the other nobles broke out into loud questions and demands, each wanting to know if it was true.

Keith stood in the middle of it all, letting the voices wash over him as he kept his focus on Pidge, who smiled encouragingly. That alone kept him grounded.

Well, that and the fact that Lance remained by his side as a physical blockade between him and Honerva until the other guards arrived to take her into custody until they could get to the truth of what had been revealed. Lotor attempted to slip away into the crowds and escape unnoticed, but he was caught as well and taken away, though he didn't struggle nearly as much as his mother, perhaps hoping that by going along willingly he could show his innocence.

Keith was led away by Lance, who was acting on Prince Matt's orders and took him back to the nice guest room where he'd spent the past week recovering.

“Nice job, Keith,” Lance complimented. “All it'll take is for the King and Queen to check the records themselves and this will all get sorted out. I bet you'll be glad when this is all over.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed.

At long last, his nightmare was coming to an end.

- - - - -

The Hawkins estate was a beautiful property when it was being properly cared for. Pidge almost couldn't believe it was the same place when she finally found the chance to visit again nearly a year after the debacle with Honerva and Lotor. Under a new Baron, the estate flourished in more ways than one.

With Allura and Lance following like a pair of persistent shadows, Pidge was led around to the back gardens, where an ornate table and chairs waited beneath the shade of a massive oak. Keith stood there, dressed down in soft reds and black, and smiled when he saw her.

“Princess,” he greeted with a smile and a friendly bow.

“Baron Hawkins,” she responded with an easy nod.

They both grinned and dropped all formalities as they sat and began to catch up on everything that had changed since they last spoke. It had been a while, as Keith busied himself with the spring planting and some of the heavy manual labor that needed to be done, even though he had staff who were more than capable of doing it all themselves. Keith said that he enjoyed the work when he wasn't forced to do it and having company made it even better.

“Mostly, I've been going through my parents' old things. There was a lot more than I expected locked away in some of the old rooms. Like my mother's journals. I felt odd about reading them at first, but it's the only chance I have to get to know what kind of person she was,” Keith admitted.

Pidge reached across the table and took his hand. “I don't think she'd mind. So, what have you learned?”

“She was from Daibazaal. That's where my dad learned a lot of new stories and legends that he told me when I was young. But she left near the end of the revolution, though she never said why in any of the journals. At least, she didn't say in any of the ones I read.”

Pidge couldn't help but smile as she listened to the way he spoke of his parents. His joy at getting to learn more about them, even if it was from an old journal, warmed her heart.

“Did you know in Daibazaal they don't begin courtship by gifting a piece of jewelry?”

Pidge blinked in surprise, unsure of how the conversation drifted to courtship. She must have gotten more lost in her thoughts than she meant to. “I didn't know. What do they do instead?”

“In Daibazaal, a bouquet of carnations is the traditional first gift. The rarer the color, the better the proof of their love.” Keith reached into his jacket and withdrew a thin box, which he placed on the table in front of her. “My dad wanted to combine their traditions, so he had this made for her.”

She couldn't stop a startled gasp from breaking past her lips as he cracked open the box to reveal an ornate bracelet with links designed to resemble tiny flowers. Most of it was silver, including the delicate leaves, but the flowers themselves were some sort of purple crystal.

“Purple carnations to represent Daibazaal,” Keith said softly. “I was hoping you would accept it as my first gift to you.”

Pidge's eyes flickered up to Keith's face and remained there as she struggled to find her words. Finally, she snapped out of it. “Yes. Yes, of course, I will!”

Keith breathed out in relief, his smile turning brighter than she'd ever seen. With a gentleness that endeared her even more to him, he helped her put on the bracelet and they both took a moment to admire the way it looked against her pale skin.

And while it didn't happen in the way he ever expected it to, Keith realized at that moment that all of his hopes and dreams for his own future were finally beginning to come true.

#voltron #fanfiction #kidge #kidgemas #cinderella au

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visenyatargaryn · 4 years

Text

Despite being a Teryn’s daughter, Ophelia Cousland dreams of a grander life. One that is filled with sword fights and adventure, but is instead forced to play the noble lady and entertain the wives of dignitaries. However, all of that comes crashing down when tragedy strikes, forcing her out of her very own home and losing everything she loved in the process. Darkness and light are two sides of the same coin, but will Ophelia strive more towards the light? Or will darkness overcome her in her need for vengeance and the will to survive?

With the impending darkspawn invasion, and a civil war threatening to break out across Ferelden… will she be able to put a stop to it all and save her homeland? Or will it all be too late to stop the inevitable?

CHAPTER THREE || Goodbye, Brother || G || 4000 words || ao3

Ophelia finds herself in a difficult situation when she hears the reasoning behind the Greywarden’s arrival at Castle Cousland. Meanwhile, it is finally time for her to do the thing she dreaded for so long—to wish her brother farewell before he heads off to Ostagar to battle darkspawn, but not before coming face to face with familiar and new faces.

Ophelia and Ser Gilmore walked through the halls of the castle with Amadis padding at their heels. Her mind was swirling with thoughts—many of which were none too pleasant. The strangeness of Arl Howe's behavior from earlier still unnerved her greatly. She had never been too fond of her father’s old friend, as she always sensed something about the man was… off. Almost as if he were hiding something…

“Is everything okay, Ophelia?” Ser Gilmore asked as they walked. She had nearly forgotten the Knight was currently present as she had been lost in thought.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just have a lot on my mind is all,” she answered, half-truthfully, shaking her head as if to rid herself of such thoughts.

“You know, I have been told that I’m an excellent listener,” Roderick said, offering a smile that reached his bright, blue eyes.

Ophelia returned a small smile. “I’m just worried about the upcoming battle is all, with my father and brother away, I’m to be the one in charge. I don’t know if I’m even qualified enough for such a task.”

It wasn’t the entire truth, but she did not wish to bring up their previous conversation She knew there was no point in trying to convince the Knight of her speculations on the Arl, no matter how persuasive she could be. Besides, it wasn’t entirely a lie either since the thought of the battle did not sit well with her.

“You have nothing to fear, Ophelia. There are to be at least 50,000 men and women at Ostagar, and that’s including the mages,” Ser Gilmore said, in an attempt to comfort her. “Your father would never have appointed you as the one in charge if he didn’t think you were fit for it. Besides, the Teryna will be there to counsel you, and I will be at your side, as always.”

Her smile faltered while fighting the tears that were threatening to come. “Except that’s only half true, Roderick. You won’t be here by my side, or ever again for that matter. The Grey Warden—Duncan, he’s planning to recruit you.”

“What? You can’t be serious?”

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you about such things…”

“But—Who will protect you once I’m gone? Surely there must be a better candidate than myself?”

Ophelia wanted to hug him. Out of all the reasons he could have said for not wanting to join the Grey Wardens, it was her that he thought of first. It was never his own self that he worried about most, it was always her and her alone.

“Roderick, you know there’s nothing that can be done,” she said, wishing it were somehow untrue. “Someone new will be assigned or perhaps no one at all. After all, I’m not the defenseless damsel I was all those years ago. You will be off to join a legendary group of warriors—which might I add, you would make an excellent candidate for.”

After a long, never-ending silence, Ophelia looked up at her friend. The look on his face tore at the seams of her heart. It was as if a million battles were happening inside his head, and he didn’t know how he could possibly win either of them. Not wanting to endure this any longer, she grabbed hold of his calloused hand, causing him to halt his steps and look down at the Teryn’s daughter.

“You are my dearest friend, Roderick, and as much as it pains me to say this, please, don’t fight it. There is no outcome in which you would win in this situation,” Ophelia said, offering him her best smile. “Besides, after everything is over, I could come and visit you. Would you like that?”

A small smile appeared at the corner of the Knight’s lips. “Yes… I would like that quite a lot.”

“Good. Now, let us not waste any more time. I would like to wish my brother farewell while I still have the chance.”

Rounding the corner, they found the Teryna speaking with some guests, two of which Ophelia recognized as Lady Landra, and her son, Dairen. The third, however, was one she did not know. An elven woman with a slender build, with hair the color of honey stood between Lady Landra and her son. Ophelia thought she was quite pretty. They approached, and Eleanor Cousland greeted her daughter, while Ser Gilmore bowed politely.

“Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchens has been dealt with?”

Amadis barked at the mention of her name, startling the young elf. Ophelia gave her an apologetic smile before turning her attention back toward the Teryna.

“Yes, Mother. Nan is back to work as we speak,” Ophelia answered, avoiding to bring up the reason why Amadis was causing trouble in the first place, as there were guests present.

“That’s good to hear,” the Teryna answered. “You remember Lady Landra, Bann Loren’s wife?”

Lady Landra stepped forward to greet her. “I believe we last met at your mother’s spring salon. It was quite a lovely occasion.”

“Of course. It is good to see you once more, my lady,” Ophelia agreed, offering the Bann’s wife a warm smile. She remembered Lady Landra getting quite drunk on wine after her mother had told the servants to bring it up from the cellar. It resulted in even more brazen, but unsuccessful attempts to get Ophelia to agree to a marriage proposal with her son.

“You are too polite, dear girl. I do remember spending the evening trying to persuade you to marry my son. However, like you, he is still yet to be married.”

“And you’re still making a feeble case for it, I might add,” Dairren interjected, turning towards Ophelia with a bright smile. “Don’t listen to her. I can assure you that I came here, not as a suitor, but to assist your father.”

She furrowed her brows. “My father?”

“I’m to accompany him when we ride out tomorrow as his second. It is quite the honor, I might add,” he said, giving her a pleasant smile.

“Then, I trust you will make sure that you will keep my father safe and, most importantly, alive?” Ophelia asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure the Teryn is safely returned to his family.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something but was cut off by Lady Landra before she could muster a word.

“Anyway, this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona,” Lady Landra said, interrupting the two as she motioned to the woman beside her. “Do say something, my dear.”

“It is quite the pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” the elf—Iona said with such shyness. “The rumors of your beauty were not falsehoods, it seems.”

Ophelia blushed at her words. Although, she might have said the same about Iona. From afar, the elf looked merely pretty, but up close… it was an entirely different matter. Her honey-colored hair was long and worn in a beautiful crown plait as elven ears peeked out from the sides. Her large eyes were stunningly blue, like cornflowers, that sparkled when the light hit them. Ophelia smiled in thanks to the compliment.

“And yet that doesn’t seem to make it any easier to find a suitable match for her,” added the Teryna.

“I would say that you should be proud to have a daughter who’s most skilled, my lady,” Dairren interjects, offering Ophelia a smile.

“But alas, pride doesn’t get me any more grandchildren,” Eleanor sighed, looking to her daughter.

“Mother!” Ophelia groaned, not wanting to hear no more talk of marriage or even grandchildren.

“Well, I suppose we shall retire until the evening. We will see you all at dinner,” Lady Landra said, before taking her leave.

As she and Iona dismiss themselves and head back towards the castle, Dairren reaches for Ophelia's delicate hand and pressing his lips against it in a tender kiss, before peering up at her. “It was a pleasure to see you once more, my lady. Shall I see you later?”

At the corner of her eye, she saw Ser Gilmore tense slightly at the gesture.

“I—of course, Dairren,” Ophelia said sweetly, offering him a smile. Watching the young man leave, she felt her face burn from the flirtation.

“What a charming young man,” the Teryna mused.

“Mother, no,” Ophelia warned, not wanting to hear more of this.

Eleanor raised a brow. “No, what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

The Teryna sighed. “You must marry at some point, Ophelia, and he’s a polite, handsome young man from a good family…”

“Yes, I know. I’m just… not ready is all. I do wish to enjoy my youth while I can, which I hope is something you can understand, mother.”

“Of course, my dear,” Eleanor said, finally defeated as she reaches to caress her daughter’s cheek. “By the Maker, how you have grown so quickly! I still remember when we used to walk around the gardens when you were little. Do you remember?”

Ophelia smiles fondly at the memory. “I do, actually. We would walk around, and you would continuously point out the different types of flowers as we passed. Afterward, we would sit below our favorite tree, the slightly crooked one, and you would read to me.”

“Yes,” the Teryna chuckled, as her hand fell back to her side once more. “You were always fond of stories about heroes and princesses…”

“Ser Gilmore, Fergus, and I used to play ‘princess in the tower’ numerous times when we were children,” Ophelia said with a laugh as she glanced over the Knight. “And sometimes we added a dragon… or two.”

“That too,” Eleanor said, with a slight sadness appearing in her eyes. “I love you, my sweet girl.”

“I love you too, mother.”

Reaching to tuck a stray strand behind Ophelia’s ear, the Ternya sighed. “Oh, how I wish you and Fergus didn’t grow up so quickly! Soon, you will be running the castle with your father gone while your brother leaves tonight. Have you said your goodbyes yet?”

Ophelia shook her head. “Not yet. We were actually on our way there before running into you.”

“Then I won’t keep you any longer. We can speak later if you like,” Eleanor offered, before embracing her daughter. When she finally pulled away, the Teryna looked over Ophelia and smiled, before taking her leave. She watched as her mother walked away, before making her way to the bedroom chambers with both Ser Gilmore and Amadis following behind.

As they grew nearer, Ophelia could hear her nephew through the open doorway. His tiny voice bringing a smile to her face.

“Will you bring me back a sward?” Oren asked, his eyes widening as he looked up at his father.

Fergus chuckled, kneeling before his son. “It’s sword, Owen, and I will find you the mightiest one that I can find.”

“Promise, papa?” Oren asked in that small voice that Ophelia loved so much.

“I promise,” Fergus agreed, while gently grasping his son’s shoulders. “And here is my sweet sister, coming to see me off.” He grinned, as Fergus noticed Ophelia entering the room from the corner of his eye. “With Roderick at her side, no less!”

Ser Gilmore bowed in greeting to the young lord while offering a smile. “I am duty-bound to protect your sister, my lord, even if she doesn’t need it no more.”

The words pierced through Ophelia’s heart as she reflects back to their previous conversation. It is quite apparent that he was hurt by the news… something she now regrets ever bringing to light with him.

“Sister?” Oren asked, confused. “But that’s Auntie Ophelia!”

Ophelia chuckled as she mussed his hair. “I am both actually.”

“Hey!” her nephew cried out.

“Mother and Father had insisted that I come to say goodbye since it could be quite some time before I will see you again…” she said, coming to stand near her brother.

Before Fergus can speak, his wife, Oriana, interrupted whatever it is that he was about to say. “Ophelia! Don’t speak like that in front of Oren!”

Her brother frowned. “She didn’t mean anything by it, love.”

“Of course not!” Ophelia said, immediately trying to fix her poor choice of words. “I only meant that the journey to Ostagar is quite long, and depending on the weather, it could be months until he returns.”

Oriana’s solemn expression remained, as it appeared that she was not convinced. However, she said nothing more of the matter.

“Besides," Ophelia grinned, placing a delicate hand on his armored shoulder. "Nothing could ever harm Fergus. He's one of our best warriors—well second best.”

"Ha! It seems not even I can surpass my little sister’s prowess with a sword and shield!” Fergus laughed. "It is a shame you aren't coming with me, though. It's going to be quite tiresome killing all those darkspawn by myself."

"A woman fighting in battle?" Oriana asked, slightly surprised. "In Antiva, the very idea of that would be... unthinkable!”

"Really?" Fergus's mouth contorted into a grin. "I always heard that Antivian women were dangerous."

Oriana cracked a smile. "Only with kindness and poison, my sweet husband."

Fergus's eyes widen before he lets out a round of laughter. Turning to Ophelia, he motioned back towards his wife. "You hear that? And this is from the woman who serves me my tea!"

"Honestly, for putting up with you so much, I'm actually surprised she hasn't yet." Ophelia chuckled, earning a laugh from both.

"Poison papa?" Oren gaped, with eyes wide. "Don't do that!"

Oriana knelt beside him, smoothing down his coppery hair, gently quieting him. "We're only joking Oren," his mother reassured him in a soothing voice.

"Besides," Ophelia continued from before. "Father isn’t so keen on sending me off into battle, just yet.”

“Which would be best, might I add. You would be much safer here within the castle walls than taking arms against… darkspawn.” Fergus remarked, frowning at the thought.

Ophelia arched a brow in response to her brother’s words, all while folding her arms across her chest. “You know well enough that I could handle myself in battle, dear brother. Simply ask Roderick!”

She looked over towards the Knight, who had been silently standing off to the side during the entirety of their conversation. Ophelia saw that he wore a smile upon his face, one that matched his bright, blue eyes.

“I’m not typically one who takes sides between the two of you, but she does speak the truth,” Roderick agreed, his eyes meeting hers. “I pity any poor fool who meets your sister in battle.”

Ophelia smiled as she felt a rush of pride coarse through her body at hearing the words.

"Even so, I'm not looking forward to the journey since we're quite short on men," Fergus said, shaking his head. "I still can't believe that Arl Howe's men are delayed again! You would think they were marching backward or something."

Her smile faltered, remembering the conversation her father had with the Arl of Amaranthine. The periodic glances towards the doors and the disappointment with finding out that a Grey Warden was here at the castle. Ophelia felt deep within her bones that something was off about the entire thing. However, there was nothing to be done about it. It wasn’t as if she could accuse the Arl of treachery with no proof…

"It's a shame Duncan won't be riding out with you though,” Ophelia said, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “Being a Grey Warden, I imagine he would be of great use against the darkspawn."

"A grey warden?" Oren exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement. "Did he ride here on a griffin?"

"Shush, Oren." His mother chided. "Griffins only appear in stories now."

Fergus turned toward his sister. "I heard about there being a grey warden here, but I was never told why. Do you know?"

Ophelia nodded, her stomach knotting up as she glances over at Ser Gilmore. "Duncan has come here because he’s looking for recruits." She said, meeting her brother’s gaze. "Apparently, he has his eyes set upon Roderick."

Although she dared not to let it show, Fergus knew what to look for when something was amiss with his little sister. Even now, he saw as her demeanor changed in front of him. Although the two of them grew up together with Ser Gilmore. It was Ophelia who held the closest relationship with the Knight—as they spent countless days around each other.

She watched as her brother’s gaze shifted toward her friend. "Roderick is a good man and capable of holding his own in a fight," Fergus said, with a sad smile. "It is no surprise that Duncan would consider having him within his ranks."

“I appreciate the kind words, my lord,” Ser Gilmore said with a smile that no longer reached his eyes. “If I am to join the ranks of the Wardens, then let it be known that it has been an honor to be in the service of such a noble family.”

With a tight smile, Ophelia nodded in agreement. An unbearable silence has fallen upon them before the sound of Fergus clearing his throat echoing throughout the room. "Anyways," He continued, offering her a grin. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze my arse off in the southern rains. I will be quite jealous of you being here at the castle, little sister, all warm and safe."

"Don’t forget there’s better food here as well,” Ophelia remarked, cracking a smile.

Oriana let out a breath. "I'm so glad to hear you will be so miserable, my love."

Fergus chuckled. "I was only kidding." Letting out a deep breath, he looks over at the four of them. "Well, I should probably head out then. The darkspawn aren't going to kill themselves—although I wouldn’t lose sleep if they did.”

Oriana wrinkled her petite nose. "Fergus!"

Her brother opened his mouth but was instead interrupted by a voice coming from the doorway. "Good, you haven't left yet!"

They all turned to look where the voice had come from as both, Teyrn and Teyrna stride in together. "Actually, I was just about to,” Fergus said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Eleanor Cousland frowned as she pulled her son into an embrace. "Be well, my son." She said with such gentleness. "I will pray to the Maker for your safety, every day that you are gone."

"Thank you, Mother." He responded, the octane of his voice so low that Ophelia could barely hear his words. "You know well enough that no darkspawn can best me."

Stepping away from Fergus, she wiped away the treacherous tear that had escaped and made its way down her cheek. Afterward, Bryce Cousland stepped forward, embracing his son in his arms.

"Stay safe out there, my boy," The Teryn said, clasping his son's shoulder with a solemn smile spread across his face. "Both Howe, and I will see you in Ostagar.”

"The Maker sustain and preserve us all," Oriana spoke in prayer. "Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us."

"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it!" Fergus bellowed with a laugh.

Ophelia remembered how he never was one to like overly serious or ominous moments like these. It was something that she was thankful that stayed with him even after spending years preparing to become the next Teryn.

"Fergus!" Oriana scolded, shooting him a glare. "You would really say that in front of your mother?"

Fergus offered his wife a sheepish smile. "Err... for the other soldiers, I mean. I don't need any wenches since I have you, my love."

"What's a wench?" Oren asked, innocently. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

"No, my dear boy," Bryce chuckled, as he knelt beside the child. "A wench is a woman who pours the ale in a tavern." He then lowered his voice. "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" Eleanor exclaimed while stifling a laugh. "Maker's breath! It's like living with a pair of small boys. Thankfully I have a daughter who actually acts with decency."

A knowing look is exchanged between the two siblings, as Fergus is trying his best to suppress a laugh. “I will miss you, Mother, dear,” he managed after clearing his throat. “I’m sure Ophelia will take good care of you while father and I are gone. Isn’t that right, little sister?”

Ophelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, not wanting to risk a scolding from their parents due to such childlike behavior. "Maker knows that Mother can handle herself. Always has.”

"That's true," Fergus said, with a smile upon his face. "Perhaps they should be sending her to Ostagar instead of me. She would scold those darkspawn back into the deep roads.”

"Well, I'm glad you find this so funny." Eleanor retorted.

"Enough, enough," Bryce chuckled, touching his wife's shoulder before glancing over to Ophelia. "If you haven't already, say your goodbyes, pup. You’ll want to get an early night’s rest since there will be much to do on the morrow.”

Ophelia nodded before walking over to Fergus and throwing her arms around him in an embrace. "Goodbye, dear brother." She said, trying to restrain the tears that threaten to come. "Fight well, and I will see you on your return.”

"Goodbye, little sister." He said, returning the gesture. “Do stay out of trouble, won’t you?”

Ophelia cracked a smile. “Anything for you, dear brother.”

Wishing the others good night, she turned on her heel with Ser Gilmore and Amadis following behind. Ophelia could hear her father strike up a conversation once more with her brother, as she began to head down the corridor toward her bed-chamber.

“Are you okay, Ophelia?” Roderick asked while he kept pace beside her. “Saying goodbye couldn’t be easy for you, especially since your brother had just returned.”

She quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “No, but I will be. The upcoming months will be enduring, but it will keep my mind preoccupied. However, I must face them as a Teryn’s daughter and not as some weakminded child.”

“Just because you fear for their safety, doesn’t make you weak,” Ser Gilmore reminded her. “It makes you human, Ophelia. They are your family, after all.”

Ophelia let out a breath. “You’re right, of course, but you must remember that I am also a woman—some will already think I am not fit simply because of that fact. I must prove them wrong, Roderick. I must.”

“Of course, I’m sure you will do what you think is best for your people and for Highever,” Ser Gilmore said. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

Reaching her chambers, Ophelia looked up at the Knight—who was also her dearest friend and smiled. “Thank you, Roderick. It will make the couple months all the more bearable, after hearing those words. Goodnight, Roderick.”

“Goodnight, Ophelia,” he answered. “I will see you come morning.”

Ser Gilmore watched as Ophelia disappeared inside her room, along with her mabari hound. Taking his leave, he finally felt as his heart steadied its pace as it had quickened while being near the Teryn’s daughter as it often did. The Knight didn’t like to think much of it, but deep down, he knew his feelings towards her grew with every passing day to the point that it was almost unbearable. Not to mention the thought of being recruited into the Grey Warden ranks didn’t sit well with him either. He couldn’t comprehend the possibility of going a day without seeing her beauty. Perhaps tomorrow he will finally speak to her of the matter? Because the truth was… he loved her.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age fic #your light will terrify the dark #usermacy #queennymeria #chuckhansen #oc: ophelia cousland #mine*#fic*#writings*#there's A LOT going on in this chapter...#but i'm actually happy with how it turned out??#ESPECIALLY THE ENDING #ALKFSJFSKJFKS #also yes... i used a got reference in the title #SO WHAT?!?!?!#ANYWAY!! HERE YOU GO!!

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Faithfully Yours

Bring him home by Luke Evans , the final Prompt, and she left the most heart breaking for last, so here’s an old idea i’ve had for a while

…

Warning, battlefield c section mentioned, not really gruesome in being done but haunting to the oc who performed it i’ll ad -- around it

...

Five years, was all that stood between you. Servant to King Dior, his personal messenger as your Father stood as his Personal Guard and your Mother stood as Handmaiden to Queen Nimloth. Between messages you were free to your own leaving plenty of time for you to absently pass the shop of your focus with the blonde as equally set on stealing delivery paths to the Palace himself to steal glimpses of you. Two servants of varying stations meant to keep you separate but well below the Nobles you all served.

But fire came raining down form the sky and while your parents raced one way you raced the other. A trip to Gondolin had been planned and things were mostly packed so in a stolen path into the armory while the forces scattered a baggy set of mithril chain mail was taken and slid under your hunting garb you donned when the Princess Earwing felt the urge to test her bow and was in need of someone to *cough, cough* ‘outdo’. Vases flew and looking more like you were expecting you raced into the crowds fleeing the city through the paths your cousins were guiding them through after refusing to chase after the stubborn Princess shouting for the Feanoreans to come and face her themselves.

You were not an idiot, you had seen those flames and heard the cries of their assumed foes before and had no wish to remain, simply tore the shimmering stone from her hand and knocked her out allowing her other servants to carry her off in a sack to safety while you carried your own treasured hoard. All night you raced and finally came to a stop seeing the endless plumes of smoke filling the sky in the distance while echoes of the shouts of failure wafted on the breeze. Turned to face the sight pale blue eyes still locked on your back neared you admiring the flickers of moonlight lighting your white golden curls laying in a frayed leaf and twig filled braid down your dirt and soot coated back of your armored shirt over the bright red light that had lit you up in a pinkish hue in his brief glimpses in your fleeing.

Clearing his throat you turned and his mouth went dry having your silver speckled purple eyes on him, “Ada said we have room in our tent, Naneth smells rain.”

“Oh,” you glanced to the tent seeing his mother standing there with a soft encouraging grin, “Thank you.” Again your head swiveled and you stated, “I doubt they are here, however I cannot help but look…”

“I understand. I am certain when we cross Helcrax and arrive in Lindon proper name records will be taken for those who are misplaced.”

You nodded and flashed him a weak grin, there were no tears, no, you had far too much hope just yet to accept that end. Inside the open tent you ducked and accepted the corner they offered, laying your bag down they watched your hand remain fixed on your belly narrowing their gaze until they saw the armored cloak of yours unhooked and baggy mithril raised with the slip of an arm out the sleeve to free the sleeping toddler Princes from the slings draped around your neck and shoulders.

Thankfully they had slept the whole way and remained sleeping still with only peeks of their periwinkle eyes glancing up at you to close again as you brushed their white curls from their faces. There in that tent a promise was made, you now had two brothers and your place now was with your cousins who led the escape eager to keep up the ruse. With your family so close to the ruling family none really could say otherwise it wasn’t true past a knowing few unwilling ever to endanger the children you had stolen.

God on high

Hear my prayer

In my need

You have always been there

Helcrax seemed to never and bore the only cold your kin would ever suffer, but you and your cousins in the line tapering back to Ulmo’s only child forged ahead burrowing tunnels with swipes of your hands in turns forming tunnels the masses walked through until you tired yourselves out. Waking topped in thin layers of snow you burst free and begun your rounds again until a flash of green appeared on the other side of your icy wall letting in a gust of warm air through the endless tunnel closing in behind those in the back from the growing storm blocking you from the few Noldor forces chasing after your numbers.

Lindon held nothing but pain in no openings for you or real sense of space for your kin leading to your joining those who decided to head East, mainly those of lower rank not accepted well in the nearly full lush society. Another endless stretch led you past the lush green plains and hills and the Misty Mountains blocking off those on the other side until a curious band of dark and fiery haired Elves peered out of their forest and issued their curious shimmering expelled kin an invitation to dwell in their lands.

It is hard to say how but on the road new ranks had been set and Orophin now headed your people. His generous nature and disposition led to the Silvans accepting him as their King as well in the construction of the new kingdom to house your kin and theirs alike. But still alliances were kept and when it came time to choose Head Servant to the King one choice was clear. The twins were tasked to grow one day to sit on the Council and were cared for by the Queen herself in her adoration of the boys to keep them close and protected always within your view.

He is young

He's afraid

Let him rest

Heaven blessed

Battle was imminent and to stave off a countless stream of attacks the King had taken to locking himself away with maps and pouring over plans to try and save his men, though little to no plans ever saw completion in his deteriorating consciousness and mental capacities to follow. There were no Elves, but orcs and Goblins to face here in battle and the inexperienced King seemed to be teetering near his end. At the end of his parchment coated desk with scattered maps between he shifted a page for Thranduil to get a better glimpse of in hopes of hearing his opinion on the matter when the door opened and you walked through with tray in hand you set down right on top of the map making the King stare up at you in a weakened glare from his exhaustion.

“Nieninque! I did not call for a meal!”

Instantly your head tilted and Thranduil’s lips pursed in the crossing of your arms, “I noticed!” You had never so much as cleared your throat loudly in his presence since first you had spoken and never had spoken so boldly to him since his being named as King. “You have not taken any meal for a week now and for my own safety I have made inquiry into quarters in Lothlorien. After all if the King cannot protect his own health how is he to defend the safety of his people.” On your heel you turned and dropped your hands to your sides to open and close the door behind you in your usual peaceful silent manner so opposite to your previous behavior.

In a near growl the King plopped into his seat behind him leaving his stunned Prince lost for words watching him lift his fork and stab into one of the tiny boiled potatoes in the veggie mix beside the strips of seasoned chicken and ham he bit into and mumbled to himself around each bite clearing his plate then stormed his way off to bed. Heavily he dropped and did not wake for nearly a day but when he had a stunning plan marking no casualties at all came right away to him and with it a basket of sliced fruit came to your door with a highly thick apologetic note.

It was never mentioned what you had said outside his family and it would be a lie to say it had been the last. You were granted that freedom, it was never in malice or contempt of anything past their loss of common sense easily set right again.

Bring him home

A heart is quite a resilient thing, to break and break and still go on beating. That barrier remained and for all the clear respect you held it was never to be that he could be yours, a trip to Lothlorien sealed that in your very soul burning the words on the walls of your heart. The Prince found his Princess, a cousin of King Amroth’s wife Nimrodel, who upon return caught on right away to the sting of poison flowing through your body in a flinch of your gaze to the ground in bowing your head greeting the new Princess, who in all but eye color and the looseness of the waves in her waist length hair compared to your wall of self controlling curls often pooling into your face even in a complex braid. Instantly she felt your pain and then never a trace of it again in the more startling burial of it behind your unnoticed façade with tears none but you and the stars on your nightly stroll along the isolated peaks bore witness to.

. -- (skip ahead to the next dashes if you like)

Fire again came and with it the departure of the armed forces. Under guard of the twins Queen Taule left for Lothlorien and a few days behind her you and the heavily pregnant Princess traveled after in full caravan of guards. It seemed to come from nowhere, a hidden bear trap snapping the wheel of the carriage making it tip signaling your holding the Princess safely from the crash and taking the pain for yourself. Armed and free of the carriage you led her and the lone guard to safety, or tried to, two whistles flew and pained groans sounded. Instantly the guard was gone and the Princess collapsed to her knees gripping her belly as the arrow in her shoulder released its poison. Panting from the shock of it you stopped and turned to face the trio of orcs still on your tail, one by one they fell and echoes of more approaching nearly a mile off.

At her side onto your knees you fell teary eyed knowing how little you knew of correcting black arrows or mending injuries such as this in her own teary sobs realizing how this would affect her husband. A dagger was pressed into your palm and your eyes fell to it as she whimpered, “Save my child.” Your eyes met hers and tears rolled down your cheeks from your wide eyes, “That is an order! We have little time left before they are upon us, save my child! Only you I trust him with, only you! Only you could love them as I have.” Inhaling sharply she lowered your hand to her belly she had already torn the silk and tulle layers draped across it, “Now!” A stick she found was pressed between her teeth as you could see her glow waning already, if the poison wouldn’t kill her she would fade before you could manage this.

Screams filled the growl filled forest as the trees surrounding you fought to buy you time, a few moments was all she got and tearfully she held her crying son swaddled in her shawl she had kept clean between her raised knees. Just like that she was gone and again so were you, with all you could carry of the supplies running until you had to stop at an impossible tide restrictive river blocking your way. Gently you washed him clean along with the shawl you hung to dry while using another you had taken to keep him close to your heart hoping he would remain silent. Though hunger eventually hit and with it another discovery came, a faint glow in the stream whispered to you to nurse the child and surprisingly milk was granted to you enabling you to do so. Tearfully you kept your word keeping him fed, warm, clean and quiet, hiding him in a sling under your cloak as you found the way into Lothlorien.

Silent and slightly broken you took a corner of the hall granted to the visiting servants and guards remaining silent and distant with your hood drawn worrying many passing you in the word of King Oropher’s fall stirring up screams from Queen Taule doubling at the news of the injured return of her son. All seemed to be lost and silent you remained still feeling the blood on your hands from the act you had been ordered to commit.

On the moment of his arrival the Prince now King had ordered a search for his pregnant wife when news that your caravan had never arrived, one that returned with news of the butchering of the Queen taking his unborn son so far from his due date. He ordered the room be cleared, he wanted to be alone. Everything had changed and in his mind all had been lost, for nothing with regrets of the issue to evacuate the Royal Family from Amon Lanc.

Silent and alone you went catching the gaze of the twins, who broke the King’s solitude to inform him you had arrived, possibly with an explanation. Straight through you were ushered and in the dropping of your cloak he saw at once you had witnessed all that had occurred. Straight to his side you went in his stunned silence as he struggled against tearing his stitches to sit up and hold you tightly to ease your pain. With trembling lips you drew in a breath then eased back your cloak parting his lips in seeing the familiar shawl in your arms. Down you sat breaking rank so he wouldn’t injure himself, on his chest the boy was cradled in his own approaching sobs from the tears filling his eyes.

Broken and in a gasp you spoke, “I’m sorry!” Again you exhaled drawing out the Queen’s personal dagger in another cloth still bearing your prints and her dried blood, “So very sorry!” Again you gasped a breath and in a soft whimper of the boy the twins peeked inside with parted lips seeing the King kissing the head of his premature son far bigger than he should have been showing he had been well fed and protected since his terrifying birth. “I could not remove the arrow, and more were coming, and she ordered-,” Your lips quivered again and tears poured down your cheek as your body began to slide off the bed so you would be on your knees. “I killed the Queen. I fully accept-,”

Harshly his hand gripped one of your thighs and jerked you back up onto the bed to lay at his side, right where he held you tightly and closed his eyes in a sniffle while his son nodded off to the sound of his heart beat. Tossing the dagger to the ground he kept his hold on you and the pair of you wept for your losses until you fell asleep to be discovered by the former Queen in her arrival with food and fresh bandages. Tears fell from her eyes as her stirring son allowed her to take hold of the infant freeing him to dry your blotchy cheeks and pull you closer to his side closing his eyes again.

No punishment was to be taken, not when elation spread that the Prince, however a gruesome method in doing so, had been saved. Clearly you had expected to face execution but in being granted milk by the Valar Ulmo the title of Queen Mother had been granted to you along with the protection and nursing of the young Prince the former Queen herself had chosen you for. Hours he had thanked you when you had first woken and a familiar tale you had told of your mother had told you of the trees with the tiniest leaves in the first breath of spring bringing the most hope had secured the name for the tiny boy, the tiny green leaf that brought so much hope to the people for better things to come one day.

As often as he required to gradually learn all that had been said or done by or around you the King soon learned all and gained even more respect and adoration for you in all you had endured with still such kindness and love for the infant you were intertwined the life of eternally.

He's like the son I might have known

If God had granted me a son

The summers die

One by one

How soon they fly

On and on

And I am old

And will be gone

Times were growing tough and once again the prince found himself witness to your temper in his own struggle to put off sleep to dig through papers having stacked up in his weeks of healing. The cool sting of metal now unsheathed form his very hip found his own sword to his throat. Up his hand went and around your wrist it wrapped, clearly he could disarm you and yet when his eyes met yours he relented slightly uncertain of why.

“Bed, now.”

With a sigh he said, “I must finish reading these reports.”

“Either way you are near to dropping, if it is what it takes I will read you to sleep.”

Relenting to your will as his father had done the blade was traded for the reports and a new tradition was shared, him in bed as you read the reports he required each night from a stool along the wall until he fell asleep. Soon there had been plans to construct a second Palace in the Northern peaks and between trips to oversee that his time was most spent with you and his son.

The boy loved you, whole heartedly and between nights laying up staring at the stars with the both of them, climbing trees and running through fields of tall grass and flowers none could ever tell him he was anything but yours. Yet his teens had come and gone and with adulthood came with a curiosity for the Elleth that had carried him when it finally settled in that you and his father were not bound and both clearly was suffering from that fact.

Bring him peace

Bring him joy

He is young

He is only a boy

With walls came puppets and spies. Sauron and Melkor, both disguised for many held no sway over your knowledge of them in their many visits to King Dior. Shadows spread and in a try to find the best plan to alert the now haze minded King you had no clue how to waken. Away you had to go, past the band of Dwarves and Hobbit once you had been captured in your flight their shouts sounded as you were beaten unconscious and chained in side the cage with the tiniest Dwarf now cowering at the fiery gaze of the metal clad puppets now patrolling the halls of the kingdom.

The pair left returning to guide the Elf King to march upon the mountain himself for the gold inside to wipe out his armies, a troubling task itself even with the haze his mind was under. A fiery haired Elleth far too distracted in searching the skies slipped back inside in time to see your capture and in their flight snuck in to bring down the puppets and use the keys to let you and the company free.

Behind her the Prince had snuck and into your barrel he jumped refusing to leave while Tauriel lingered with Bilbo to help him into a spare barrel for the ride to Laketown. A trade of rings after one of gold was spotted in passing left the Hobbit elated at the sapphire ring able to shift him into a white dove whenever he wished and back again just the same, much preferred over the shadowy paths his left him wandering.

A bargain had been struck, another ring granted, one to freeze the giant beast and any of fire hoping to attack them enabling them to break apart with axes without trouble in return for humoring the Elf King and drawing things out as long as he could without drawing blood. Away you turned and sighed seeing Legolas staring you down, “You are mistaken if you imagine I am letting you go alone.”

Turning away you mumbled, “We can add this to the list of reasons to execute me.”

Instantly spurring up an argument lasting hours between the duo against you until Tauriel finally asked, “Just where is our destination?”

“King Thorondor’s domain.”

Legolas excitedly asked, “The Eagles? We’re going to see the Eagles?!”

The excitement died however at the straight climb up the endless peak for days on end finally a landing was gripped and you crawled up onto it and helped the duo up after you only to knock Legolas down at a swooping talon ended foot slashing to Legolas, who you covered. “WHO DARES ENTER OUR DOMAIN?!”

Kneeling forward nearly to the ground you replied, “Please forgive me, I have come to request your aid.”

“What task could possibly lead you to imagine we would aid you nameless Elleth?!”

“We have discovered Sauron’s Ring and require aid in entering Mordor.”

A round of screeches sounded as you all gripped the cracks in the ledge you were on in the gusts their flapping wings stirred up. “HOW DARE YOU BRING THESE MATTERS HERE!”

A sudden lurch to Legolas had his eyes widen and you jerk him down again to cover him as he squeaked out, “Naneth!”

“Don’t hurt them, please! I led them here! Don’t hurt them!” Gripping him tightly under you the shadow of the giant Eagle above you inspecting the pair of you and Tauriel curled up at your sides for a moment.

Above you the Eagle King spoke firmly, “Leave and never return!” Silently you nudged the pair back to the long climb down and quietly you vanished from their keep and you especially did not speak until you reached the bottom and you sat down in the snow bank there drying your lingering tears from the shock of what had happened.

To yourself you muttered, “I hoped they would help.”

Legolas crouched before you saying when your eyes met his, “Naneth, we will find a way.”

Tauriel nodded, “And they will greatly regret not aiding in our adventure.”

With a nod you stood and mumbled to yourself, “Adventure…” Continuing on the path taking you to the distant plumes of smoke and ash.

You can take

You can give

Let him be

Let him live

If I die, let me die

Let him live

Atop another peak you crouched eyeing the flaming darkened city making Legolas’ eyes go wide until you said, “The river.”

They both looked at you and you pointed out a tiny river flowing under the Eastern wall making Legolas ask, “The river lets us in, then what do we do about all of them?”

With a smirk you answered, “We break the dam.” His brow inched up and you showed him the dam located half a mile from the river used to power a great deal of machines parting their lips. “You can wait here, if you wish.”

Tauriel, “We are not abandoning you, Queen Mother.”

Legolas, “Naneth, you should know well enough the stubbornness of Elves to question our loyalty to you.”

Oddly frigid water led you inside to follow the currents to a set of rocks you used for cover to start the path to the dam with tossed rocks far in the distance to spur up distractions to remain unseen. Up a rocky path you climbed and to a set of mechanisms you climbed a built in ladder and broke the securing bolts and seals of the pipes around the dam building the pressure making you cling together in the wall of water crashing down into the city stirring up a call to open the gates. That however would take time, and you used it to your advantage to muster up a raft you bent the water to urge it towards Mt Doom. Up the ridge you ran and after tossing the ring away into the lava the pair pulling the raft helped you ease it into the water at your sign and held on for you to ride the waves of water pouring out through the gates.

Earth cracking below you had you leaping off at the last moment to roll to safety and spend a few elated giggling moments on the edge of oblivion before rolling to your knees for the walk home again. A shadowy path however led you right into a trap, one of riders from Gondor who had seen your path to the darkened now disappeared city. The ring had bored deep into the minds of those corrupted and it would take time to free those minds and with Gondor being so close the effects were so much stronger. Hard shoves and blows were given until you again were thrown into a cell coughing across the cold stone floor with the duo in separate cells across from you staggering to their knees shouting your name at your slow rise.

Eventually you did after a few room settling moments and spat blood into the corner in your wincing rise to your feet at the nearing of another guard. A sudden grip of your braid and tug on his chain mail sleeve to bring him in reach had your braid around his neck parting the lips of the duo across from you listening to his heart slow as he stopped struggling. Right after he slipped unconscious you let the chokehold loose and grabbed the keys on his belt freeing yourself and them after. Through the city muffled shouts and cries came with every person knocked out along the way until you were finally in possession of your things and free again to slip into the night on the moonless night.

The race however came to an abrupt end in your steadily slowing pace to a trot and near collapse bringing the attention of the duo to the dagger you had sutured in your thigh, the blood loss from which had your eyes rolling back in a slump forward. They tried to catch you, but a much larger foot did instead. Far from over head in their path of monitoring the tasks and paths you had taken a pair of Eagles had followed you, one now carrying you and the other, who snatched up Legolas and Tauriel.

Bring him home

Execution was the last of your worries, or would be had you not been unconscious. Locked inside your apartment you were seen to on the hour every hour as the Prince and Tauriel were questioned thoroughly by the King. It wasn’t the corruption, the shadows or even the number of people having been locked away to send his stomach churning, but the thought of finding your blood stained apartment, now scrubbed clean, without any sight of you, his son or Tauriel.

It was right there, always right there. How he loved his Wife so easily, she was the version of you he was allowed to project his adoration onto, and what was worse she knew it, mentioned it often his bond with you he brushed off as friends. It was always more, the pregnancy news that sent him full panic at, now he realized not being yours, calmed when you were the one to find him off riding on his Elk in a faked need to scout supplies for a gift. You said he would be a great father, a great King, but he never wanted her, it was all yours. None of this would be here without you, his father surely would have lost it all, none could have passed Middle Earth or the Misty Mountains, and surely wouldn’t have passed Helcrax.

There was such a peace when you were named Queen Mother, everything felt right, but that damn bed, that damn empty bed he no longer realized as you read him to sleep and bled into his dreams only to shatter him at waking alone. He had found peace with you. A peace shattered when your bloody limp body was left in the middle of a garden by Eagles followed by his son and Captain of the Guard behind you to share how you had been injured.

The weight weighed heavily on Legolas, he swore he had seen a dagger in that final hall be drawn on him and you made the Man go flying with your punch, you were safe, you were supposed to be safe. But he didn’t get it, you loved him, and he meant more to you than life itself. Thranduil repeated the very sentiment you had shared with him when he confronted you about his birth mother, when you had given him the still bloody dagger expecting him to take revenge. But he dropped it and clung to you. Teary eyed he sat watching his father leave after the tightest hug he’d ever received from him that stirred a lingering ache in his ribs. You chose his barrel, the sturdiest and least likely to leak, you chose his portions always bigger than yours, you covered him when facing the Eagles and pled for their safety saying nothing for yourself.

That was love. Unflinching and selfless. Life was meaningless if he wasn’t safe and happy, you knew there would be sadness but he had time to be happy again if you fell in his place. So much had been sacrificed and it all returned to every pained glance you never knew he saw. He knew your smile, your laugh, the pure joy exuding from you when you were with him, and then is father would come and each glance, word and step closer or apart held a weight he couldn’t place, the same the opposite way. It never ended the tension and finally that dam was to break and he would make certain that all left unsaid would be unspoken somehow. It all had to come out, or surely you would drown from the blood seeping out of your torn open heart.

Quietly he sat replaying each moment he had missed sharing all he thought of you and as you slept, just as in your absence he wrote it all out for you. One journal turned to two and on his reach for a third after two weeks asleep your eyes opened and he stood crossing to plant his knee on the bed, “You are never to leave these walls again.”

Inhaling sharply you took that as your eternal imprisonment until his hands claimed yours in your reach to surrender to being bound and they were planted over your head in a warm kiss melting into forty three after ending with his settling at your side reaching for the first journal as you panted, “How long have we been back?”

“Two weeks and two days. Now rest.”

He opened the journal and you asked, “Shouldn’t you-,”

“Shhh. You will rest, and you will listen until I have read it all and long after until you have shared it all as well, by then the wedding service will be prepared.”

“Who is getting married?”

“We are.” Kissing you in a nestling hold to draw you closer to his chest for him to rest his cheek on top of your head and begin to read.

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf, @pastelhexmaniac

#Theincaprincesswritingchallenge #30daywritingchallengebytheincaprincess #thranduil x oc #hobbit #lotr

22 notes · View notes

three-houses-text-files · 5 years

Text

ferdinand/mercedes

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c-a support + paired endings

Mercedes: … Ferdinand: Oh, Mercedes. This is unexpected. M: Hello, Ferdinand. Did you come to pray? F: I did. I quite like the atmosphere in the cathedral. F: It is holy and solemn. Perfectly suited to a noble, wouldn't you say? M: Uhh... I guess so. F: You guess so? I think the matter is rather clear-cut. F: It is incumbent upon nobles that we pray regularly to the goddess. F: Even Edelgard, who opposes the church's methods, does not deny us the right to pray to the goddess. F: The piety of the nobles is a model for commoners— it teaches them the value of devotion. M: Absolutely. I know exactly what you mean. I couldn't agree more. F: These days many nobles scarcely, if ever, pray. F: Look around! You and I are alone in this cathedral. It is really quite a shame. M: Ah, well, I don't really know that I count as a noble anyway. F: I am afraid the nobility seems to be losing its way. When you pray, you are usually alone, right? M: Umm…yes. You're right. I usually am. F: Precisely. Where are the others? Of course, you cannot force people to worship. That is out of the question. F: Nobles must determine for themselves what they will believe and how they will pray. F: A religion foisted on you without your say is not much of a religion at all. Do you not agree? M: Yes, I definitely agree. Definitely...agree. F: On the other hand, we cannot stand idly by while... M: Um, it was great talking to you, but I'm getting pretty sleepy. I'm going to head off to bed. Good night! F: All in all, one has to conclude... Mercedes? Where did she go? F: I must have inspired her to go out and revive the faith! Perhaps I should do the same. I cannot let her show me up...

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b (i?)

NPC: Come on! Sell it to me! M: Huh? What's going on here? M: Hey! Stop that! Can't you see he's not interested? NPC: We’re just talking business here. Now move it along. M: Oh! I just thought it looked a little... M: Actually, now I'm curious. M: What kind of business are you conducting? M: I’ve been told I have a keen eye for appraisal. NPC: Just trying to buy a sword... NPC: I told him to name his price, but he won't give it up! M: Any price? You must be able to afford anything your heart desires! M: But did you consider that he might have a good reason not to sell it? M: Maybe it's a family heirloom. Or simply his favorite sword. NPC: No one asked for your appraisal! Now move it! Or are you looking for trouble? F: That is quite enough! F: You would dare threaten a woman? I will not permit such ungentlemanly conduct. M: Oh. Hello, Ferdinand. Do you have an opinion on all this? F: Behind me, milady! I will protect you! NPC: Who are you? You looking for trouble too? NPC: Keep your distance, gutless knave! I just cleaned my sword, and if I maim you I will have to clean it again. NPC: Neither of us wants that, so I suggest you leave at once. NPC: Gah! Forget it! You're not worth my time! M: Ah, thank you so much... You saved me there. F: Well, that is taken care of. Are you hurt, Mercedes? M: Hurt? No, I'm fine. We were only talking. F: Ah, I am glad! I do not abide uncouth behavior. Stopping it is my duty as a noble!

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b (ii?)

F: You know, stepping in to prevent extortion, that was quite brave of you. M: What? Oh, you're talking about that time in town. I wouldn't say I did anything brave, really. I just asked what was going on. F: No need to be humble. Helping the weak is precisely what a virtuous noble does. M: I…I don't think what I did is quite the same thing. F: What do you mean by that? M: The point I was trying to make is that some things in this world can't be bought or sold with money. M: I think I let myself get a little too worked up though. M: It’s just... When I saw it happening, it reminded me of my own past... F: Your past. Hm. F: You were originally a daughter of House Bartels, a minor noble family, I heard. F: You abandoned your title, and now you live as a commoner. F: Is there more to the story? Pray tell. M: Life was becoming...difficult for us, so my mother and I fled from House Bartels. M: We found refuge in a small church in Faerghus and lived there for a few years. M: A man appeared one day and said that he wanted to adopt me. M: It was obvious that he only cared about my bloodline and Crest. M: The priest refused to let me go, but the man used his money to overwhelm the church. In the end, I had no choice but to leave with him. M: That soldier we saw... I guess he just reminded me of my adoptive father. F: The man who exploited you so that he could join the nobility. Yes, I understand. F: But I must confess, that part of the story confuses me. There is nothing to gain from having a noble title. M: Hehe. F: What's so funny? M: I never thought I'd hear you question the value of nobility, Ferdinand. F: Oh, well... That is not quite what I meant. F: Using someone else to obtain high status, with no effort and no accomplishment... F: Certainly, you can obtain a title like that, but it hardly makes you a noble. M: I completely agree. F: By the same token, although you are legally a commoner, in your heart you are a proud and virtuous noble! F: That is what I think, at any rate.

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F: Mercedes, finally! There you are. M: Ah! Ferdinand! Why are you so short of breath? F: I just wanted to show you something. M: What’s this... Um... Oh! F: Yes. These are financial records that I recovered from your adoptive father. F: They prove that when he adopted you, large sums of money changed hands. M: Where did you come across these? F: I went to Fhirdiad, found his estate, and stealthily made my way inside. It was easy. (blue lions route?) F: I stealthily made my way into Fhirdiad and looked around his estate. It was easy. (others?) F: That kind of thing is no trouble for an intrepid young noble such as myself. M: That’s amazing! I mean...amazingly irresponsible! M: I can't believe you put yourself at risk for my benefit. I really wish you wouldn't do such things! F: No, I did it for my benefit. I could not help myself. F: With these documents, we can show everyone what a scoundrel your adoptive father really is. F: His noble aspirations will be crushed. The lord of the region will probably rescind his adoption contract. F: In other words, you will be free. F: Here, take them. Do with them what you will. M: Do you really believe these will set me free? F: Yes. Of course. F: You will be free to decide your own path in life, and go wherever your heart leads you. M: That does sound nice...but... M: I’m sorry, Ferdinand, but I think you should hold on to the documents. F: Why? Is this not what you want? M: I’ve lived so much of my life following everyone else's lead... M: So much so that I've come to terms with it. It's almost unavoidable at this point. M: But with these...I could regain my freedom and change all that. F: You baffle me. Do you not wish to be free? M: Of course I do. Let me try that again in a way you might understand. M: Ahem. A true noble cuts their own path, seizing freedom from the clutches of tyranny! F: I cannot argue with that. Fine, then. I will hold on to the documents. M: But I'm really very happy that you're so concerned with my well-being, Ferdinand. M: It means so much to me that you went through all that trouble on my behalf. F: Of course, Mercedes. The smile on your face is well worth the effort.

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paired endings

After the war, Mercedes traveled to Fhirdiad to pay a visit to her adoptive father. Though she introduced Ferdinand, she left out the small detail that they were engaged to be wed. Married in secret, Ferdinand and Mercedes worked together to reform the new Duke Aegir's territory, and the effort was so successful that Emperor Edelgard named Ferdinand her prime minister. It was a busy life for him indeed, but as he was known to say to his government colleagues, coming home to a smiling family made all the hard work worth it. (black eagles route)

After the war, Mercedes traveled to Fhirdiad to pay a visit to her adoptive father. Though she introduced Ferdinand, she left out the small detail that they were engaged to be wed. Married in secret, Ferdinand and Mercedes worked together to reform the new Duke Aegir's territory, and the effort was so successful that he was called upon to work as a leader in the central government. It was a busy life for him indeed, but as he was known to say to his government colleagues, coming home to a smiling family made all the hard work worth it. (other)

#fire emblem three houses spoilers #fe16 spoilers #fe3h spoilers #ferdinand x mercedes #mercedes x ferdinand

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letmehearyousayyeahh · 5 years

Text

Postage

Another Brittana attempt to keep writing. Also on FF.net.

The recesses of the half-open curtains did let the golden glimmer of mid-afternoon sunlight into the room. Bright roads where flecks of dust flew, fluttering in a circular dance, over the scene that was unfolding in that room, where a blonde, blue-eyed woman, sitting on the floor in the Indian style, reviewed belongings and junk surrounded by cardboard boxes and souvenirs.

Brittany, 29, struggled to focus on the mechanical task of pick-examine-save/throw-repeat, trying not to think about why she had to do it, or the consequences of recognizing the reality that lived in the form of memories between those papers. Her aunt Stephany, the woman who had raised her after her parents' death, had passed away after a long and painful illness; and it was Brittany's job, as the only family she had left, to take over her belongings; the one who had the job of determining what was going to the trash and what was left, in the form of a memory, to torment her.

Cleaning was, however, the least important thing. Once finished, the boxes would return to the storage room from which they should have never left and Brittany would try again to live in the new reality that the death of her aunt had created: an empty apartment, a lounge without an armchair under the spring sun (she had found her sitting there, already corpse, a few weeks ago very early in the morning; after her aunt, that chair was the next victim), and, ultimately, a new life marked by loneliness and a house too big for a single woman and so many memories of other times; if not happier, at least more in company.

Brittany was not what what we could define was extrovert, no: in her 29 years she had managed to gather a brilliant record of friendly failures, some failed attempts of romance; and a noble but sensitive heart that had to cover itself with a thick cloak to emerge more or less unscathed from the life that she was told to live. Brittany, however, was pragmatic: she did not disdain good company when she had the opportunity to take advantage of it; it was simply that the blonde had more appetite for a quiet afternoon with a good book or playing cards with her aunt than for nights full of bustle, strobe lights and sharp screams, meaningless exchanges and empty conversations. It was not isolation, it was ... well, maybe it was, she sighed inwardly, closing the box on which she was working, already full of unnecessary papers, but which she had decided to keep nontherless; and moving on to the next one.

This introversion had not been a problem for his professional career; On the contrary: Brittany was good at what she did, whatever it was, because she took each job with passion and dedication, and her desire to do it well, whether it was washing dishes, serving tables or correcting manuscripts; That ended up by attracting the attention of her bosses and guaranteeing her good job prospects. "Whatever you do, do it well", her aunt always told her. She allowed herself a small smile as she opened the last box, but quickly busied herself erasing it from her face and concentrating on the content of the last pitfall between her and the empty room next door. Seeing its content, however, she could not prevent the smile from returning to her face, and this time she did not fight against it.

In that cardboard box her aunt had kept her collection of comics: Batman, Spiderman, X-Patrol, you name it; all the comics her aunt bought for her every and other week, as a reward for her good behavior. Brittany loved to review those old pages, full of characters so familiar to her, but at the same time so old, much more than her; and it comforted her to think that she somehow connected with other worlds while she navigated between their pages, thinking of all the boys, now men; who they had also laughed and cried with the adventures of their favorite heroes.

Following this impulse, her hands went unconsciously to the first section that she always read as a child: correspondence. Tradition today disappeared, these old youth magazines were accompanied by a section where their young readers could send letters, poems, riddles or little jokes to be published in the section; and Brittany was sure that many of them still kept, with secret pride, that particular comic book where their small contribution was published.

Her favorite part of this section was always the exchange of letters: a piece of paper, an address and an universe of possibilities available to anyone's pen. At that moment, Brittany sighed. She had never been encouraged to write to any of the addresses that appeared in her comics, either because she never connected with any of the letters that were published there; or in some other case, out of shame, and fear to express her illusions of finding a related soul in a paper and that the letter would return unopened. Or worse, to never get a response.

Remembering those doubts, which made her debate in front of blank sheets of paper that eventually never took the form of a letter, Brittany noticed one of the columns of the magazine in front of her. There, one Marvin W. Hodges wrote to the world to offer his friendship to everyone who shared his passions for Batman (the best detective in the world), videogames and reading. Being fifteen years old at the time (Brittany verified that the publication date of the magazine was 1985, right now that Marvin was already a man about her own age), the letter and its contents were quite the use of a teenager in general; but it was the last phrases that caught the attention of the blonde beyond her memories: "Although I like to read everything and give any story a chance to conquer me, I never read or read better or bigger phrase than" In my world, Great Expectations only live between the pages of a book. ' A literature lesson in the heart of a few letters. "

Brittany was not ten years old anymore, shame was the least of her worries now. But the death of her aunt Stephany had left her in a state of emptiness, of emotions contained by the thickest of walls to keep her from falling into utter despair. That phrase, well known to Brittany as a young woman and even as an adult, got what her aunt's advice had not achieved during all the previous years: that those feelings of modesty before the rejection of a stranger seemed the biggest nonsense . Recognizing in other letters the words of one of the lines of her favorite book, Brittany thought that she had finally achieved the impossible until now: find someone like her, with whom she could connect through some letters, or some notes, or the simplest nonsenses that the brain invents. Someone like her aunt. Someone she knew it was out there, but who insisted on not letting herself be found. Until now?

Determined, she squeezed the magazine between her hands and lifted her chin, a resolution gleaming in her cerulean eyes that had not been there since the morning of Stephany's death. Why not? The worst that can happen is that nobody answers, she told herself as she got up effortlessly from the floor, still holding the magazine, and went to the desk under the window to start a new adventure. Which, she hoped, distracted her from the pain of Stephany's absence for a while, before she had to get used to living without her.

The sound of the closing door echoed through the walls of the empty apartment. With a sigh, the brunette woman left her keys on entrance's table and balanced herself to remove her coat without releasing what she was carrying in her hands. If she left the bag full of groceries on the floor, she knew that she would end up dragging them through the floor to the kitchen later. Practice makes perfect, and she managed to keep the bag and the correspondence that she had just picked up from the mailbox in one hand still stable, while with the other she hung the coat on the coat rack; and went to the kitchen to release ballast.

Once she had crossed the threshold, she carefully placed the bag on the table and went to the other side of the counter, where the only window in the room was, to quickly review the contents of the mailbox. The placement responded to a double motive: March in Lima was beginning to behave as usual, and at 4 o'clock in the afternoon the storm could be chewed in the air. The dark clouds obscured the little light that the twilight already left on the city, and the kitchen was almost in complete darkness; but the brunette refused to spend energy on the five minutes that would take to verify that the letters were either advertising or bills. After this, she would throw them into the trash can that she had right under her eyes, the #2 for her placement in the kitchen. Review-wrinkle/save -repeat, simple. Then, since it was still early, she would have a good shower and then dinner.

Thinking about whether the aubergines would not be too heavy for the last meal of the day, she left the last cable bill on the countertop to keep it in place with the others later and then noticed the next letter, one of the two they had to look. Suddenly, she forgot about the shower and the aubergines when she opened the envelope and took out the cardboard card, broken white color and full of printed pink ribbons, that was addressed to her in printing calligraphic typography and exaggerated italics. To Santana Lopez / +1.

Unconsciously, she rolled her eyes before finishing reading the invitation to the wedding. Right now she did not remember who she was exactly, but the name tickled her memory, they were classmates at some time in the past. Middle school? High school? It couldn't have been at college, I would remember ... or not? I can't put a face to the name either... it can not be that chubby girl...? She whispered, to herself, while reading that Mindy and Hugh were happy to invite her to celebrate with them the happiest day of their lives, and urged her to be at the Lima Presbyterian Church on Sunday, May 5 at 11:00 o'clock in the morning. to be a witness to their liaison, and later attend the meal that will take place to commemorate such a great event for the couple, relatives and various friends. Many greetings from Mindy and Hugh. RSVP.

She had a few seconds of hesitation, she had to admit it. But finally the impulse got the better of her and she broke the card in four before throwing it away. Maybe it was the remorse, or simply that the day invited to melancholy, but she remained for a long time looking at the broken cardboard, which seemed to shine against the black plastic bag. She could not explain why, but that invitation had given her a good kick in the ass. She had even left her for a while without air in her lungs. Why? If she did not even remember that girl anymore, she did not care at all if she got married or pierced her nipples. Then why? Having answered no to the invitation would have been enough. May you be very happy and all that, and we will see each other in the next life. At that moment, Santana sighed. Without wanting to do it, she had found the why.

Wish you happiness. May it go well for you, I wish you a prosperous and happy marriage. Blah blah blah. And after the parade, back home, alone. To work; to decide if the aubergines are good at night. If she should turn on the light or not for ten minutes she'll be in the kitchen. To live with a lot of room in the closet and a bottle of pills in the first drawer of her nightstand to close her eyes and not feel trapped in a life that no longer recognizes as her own..

When is that you get used to be accustomed to life? It is a question that Santana asked herself many times. When does you stop believing in the stories of the books, full of decisions and consequences? Full of something, period? And when you get used to the fact that life really is a succession of days, with its nights, in which the emotion of decisions and mistakes come out of yourself, instead from coming from the outside? Where the hell was that succesion from which everyone leaves and enters at will around her? College, work, house, marriage, children, grandchildren? And the weekends out? And the retirement in Florida? I had the college degree, I had the job, I had the house, and I had a succession of minutes and hours as my life, nothing more. What it's left for me to do?

Sighing, she allowed herself one more moment of tribulation before moving on to the next letter, the last one; to throw it away, whatever it says, to start your shower plan, dinner and we will see next. Strong emotions, indeed. What Santana still did not know, while opening an envelope that she had not noticed too much, was that this letter was not for her. And that, even so, it was going to give her what she had been asking for so long in silence.

Dear Marvin:

I hope you do not get scared when you receive a letter today, after so many years, but it was precisely today when I found an old copy of the #35 Detective Comics where your address came from; and when reading your letter to the magazine I have needed to write you these words. I do not even know if you will receive them, maybe you are dead, or you no longer live there... but I had to try. Because in fifteen years it has been passed, your letter has managed to encourage me to write to other people, something that fills me with fear, but at the same time it moves me, thinking about all the possibilities that this can entail; and why did you end your letter quoting one of my favorite writers, David Martín; and, by its mouth, the great Zafón, in The Angel's Game. Marvin, my great expectations also live between the pages of that book, and I only hope that this letter, in some way, reaches you; and feel the same thing that I felt when reading your words: that, somehow, having found us, even if only through an old magazine, we could get to exchange some thoughts or ideas, to try to get those hopes from between the pages and bring them to the real world.

Again, I'm sorry if this catches you outright, and I understand if you do not want to answer; Even so, I wish you all the best, and I hope you have found some hope, however small, outside the books.

Take care,

Brittany

After reading the letter, Santana blinked slowly. Once. Twice. One more time. I still did not understand very well what I had just read. Disconcerted, she took the envelope from the counter and searched for the sender. That was it, she had opened the envelope without realizing it, and that letter was not for her. Marvin W. Hodges. 154 S Metcalf Street Lima OH 45804. She had been living in that apartment for at least five years, and she knew from the real estate agency that it was been in the market for so long, so that Marvin must have lived among those walls more than twenty years ago.

To think that she had a personal handwritten letter in her hands, after years of not receiving any (although this one had not been for her either, really? Would this be a crime?), that stirred something inside her chest. A rare ... emotion? Yes, to think that someone had been rummaging through some old magazines and had found something that had turned her insides up so much, to take her to write to a stranger ... It was something new, something she would never have expected. Something that removed her insides too.

But what caught her attention the most, that managed to put a sincere smile on her face, was the literary reference. God, how many years had passed since I read that book ... It featured one of her favorite characters, which she counted among her most intimate friends, and she continued to identify strongly with her, her strong will and the courage she displayed throughout the series to pursue her destiny. Although, Santana thought with some bitterness, imitating her with fifteen years seemed easier than now with 30. Distracted by her thoughts, she went to the living room without paying much attention to the shopping bag she was waiting for her at the kitchen table. She had more important things to do. How to get rid of the idea of answering that letter that was not addressed to her. Or convince herself to sit at the table, take the paper she had and the first pen available and vomit over the paper all her thoughts: that this stranger had achieved, with just one letter, stir all the sadness that had kept inside her chest for years. She did not really know which of the two she would choose at the end.

Dear Brittany:

I apologize for my audacity in answering this letter that is not addressed to me, but seeing the effort you have put into your words, I felt responsible in some way, so I have decided to answer you. Marvin Hodges no longer lives here. I do not know what happened to him, because I came to this apartment five years ago, and from what I know of from the real estate people, it took a long time between rentals, so I guess it would have been the house of his parents at some point, which Marvin left after putting your contact address in the magazine. I'm sorry if this disappoints you, but the truth is that I can not say the same. Brittany, reading your words has been like opening the window to a new world that I thought was buried in my memories. I have also read Zafón's books many times, and many others later, but Great Expectations quote is still the best for me, because it is still the one I identify with the most.

I apologize for this diatribe, in which a bored thirty-something years old complains about life is going and going around her, while she remains stuck in her memories of other happier times, but somehow I know that you will forgive me and, I hope that, somehow, you understand my desire to start living and stop surviving.

I know I'm not Marvin, and we really do not know each other and surely this will seem crazy, but I think that even with all this, we could try to catch some of those great expectations from those pages and try to mash them together, see if is there is something worthy in them for us.

Again, thank you for your letter ("your letter." Anyway, I hope you are ok with this, wherever you are, Marvin), and I sincerely hope to read you soon.

Sincerely,

Santana Lopez.

Three years later…

Brittany was busy closing the last boxes. She still had to collect half of the bookshelf, pack the rest of the books and take down the boxes, so that tomorrow they moving guys would pick them. Taking a breath, she passed her forearm across her sweat-beaded forehead and sighed, tired. The summer sun fell on her because it was coming in full force through the windows, sans curtains anymore. It had been the first thing she had packed, and now she was paying for it suffering the heat.

After hearing the front door close, the noise echoing through the walls of the almost empty apartment, she got up quickly and went to the bookshelf to finish emptying it. While placing ordered by size and weight the volumes on the floor, next to the box where they tended to fit; she took one in her hands which she had not read in a long time. Standing there, she smiled nostalgic. It had always been one of his favorite books, but for almost three years now it had another meaning, much deeper than her teenage readings and the memories of distant days that those pages brought her.

Keeping her smile, she turned with the book still in her hand when she felt a presence behind her. There, at the door, Santana was waiting, leaning against the frame, with one hand holding her six months bump. She could not help but smile when she saw her wife, it was automatic since that distant afternoon when she received the first letter and Brittany disarmed her for the first time. But now the smile widened when she saw what she had in her hands.

No words were needed. Many had already been said. Brittany simply put the book back on the shelf and approached her wife to kiss her gently on the lips, and caress her belly with one of her hands, which entwined it with her wife's at the bottom of her belly.

It had been years since their Great Expectations no longer lived among books' pages.

fin.

#brittana #fanfiction #fic #brittany #santana #au #postage #myfic

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