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momolady · 3 years

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Shorty & the Beast: Part Four

Roslile trains in order to complete her mission, and hopefully meet with Queen Mythri. She’ll journey into danger, and all the while, her bond with yrail will grow stronger.

Female Main Character x Male Monster (both cis)

Back in Earthwick, Hamfist Portigardens was a raging wreck. The moment he found Roslile’s note and digested it, he went into shock. He had no clue what to do, and for the first few hours of the day he went around like she was playing one of her ridiculous games. It wasn’t until the day wore on that it penetrated to him that his daughter was actually gone. He raced around the entire village asking if anyone had seen her. He heard the news about her selling the sapphires, and someone else said they saw her leaving on Noodle early in the morning.

And so Hamfist went home to his daughter’s room, where he found everything missing, except for the locket that had once belonged to her mother. He took the locket and sat on the edge of Roslile’s bed. After that, he never went back to the abandoned Bellmore to work. Instead he waited for his child to return, tending to her garden so it wouldn’t be dead when she came home. Perhaps if the garden was okay, then Roslile would be as well. Wherever she was, he prayed she was safe.

As Hamfist prayed, Roslile was getting hit by Poppy. It wasn’t out of malice, it was just training. Poppy was proficient in hand-to-hand combat, but she trained with all sorts of weapons as well. She told Roslile that her first weapon was her mother’s cast-iron skillet. But after a single lesson with her, Roslile realized Poppy was the weapon.

For ages Roslile had played pretend with the handle of a broom or a stick wrapped with fabric. She thought she had some sort of knowledge of how to fight, but she he had never gone up against an opponent besides a tree or hay bale. Poppy was half-orc, and her blows carried weight and purpose. She knocked Roslile on her ass easily, but she always followed it up by teaching Roslile how even a tiny halflin, could fight victoriously.

“Size does matter, but it’s what you do with your size that counts. Someone like you is built for misdirection. Don’t let them know you’re competent. Use your size to your advantage, and you’d be surprised at what you can do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Roslile grumbled, nursing a bruise on her upper arm. “No halfling has ever been a hero.”

Poppy frowned and sat down beside Roslile. “What’s a hero to you?”

Roslile raised her eyes to Poppy, then looked back down at her arm. “A hero is someone who fights for what’s right, and they win by the sweat of the brow and the strength of their heart. They defeat their enemies, and…”

“Not all heroes are fighters,” Poppy explained. “Heroes don’t always use their fists or the sweat off their brows to win battles. Sometimes that’s just being a bully.”

Roslile opened her mouth, but closed immediately.

“Heroes happen everywhere and every day. Even if all you did was tell us where a camp is, you probably laid Obresh’s path to freedom. That’s a little heroic.” Poppy placed her hand on Roslile’s shoulder. “You left your home and traveled halfway across the world to find a way to protect your village. That’s heroic.”

“What if I fail?” Roslile’s voice cracked.

“Abelard the Snow Knight was a story my mom used to tell me and my brothers,” Poppy replied thoughtfully. “The Polar was facing a strange and sudden thaw, which turned out to be caused by a witch. So he traveled to find this witch, and along the way he met several people, helped them and their problems, and kept going. By the time he found the witch, he was weak and sick, and he failed to challenge her. But the people he had helped along the way remembered him as a hero, and he was remembered, but the witch was forgotten.” She tilted her head and smiled at Roslile. “Does that make sense?”

Her smile was faint, but Roslile nodded her head. After each training session with Poppy, she went to rest for a while before supper. She would talk with Kyairil mostly, going over what she had learned that afternoon. Sometimes, the two would work on what they could do through their bond. Since Kyairil’s magic was that of the black dragon, there was acid involved. This was why she threw up that first time they had tried - the only acid she had at the ready was stomach acid. It still made her sick to her stomach but they were able to master a few other techniques like the hypnosis she had tried before. They were able to master several spells, each one becoming more powerful as their bond grew. She was practicing a lot on the ship, training both with Poppy and Kyairil. The more she did, the more control she found she had. She was getting stronger physically with Poppy, and mentally with Kyairil.

After supper, Roslile usually slept like a brick. In her dreams she visited with Kyairil and cuddled with him, sprawled out on his chest or curled into the crook of his arm. Other times, they walked along the beach in her memory, or strolled around Earthwick. One evening, she dreamed of his bedroom again, but he wasn’t in bed like usual. Instead he stood before the fire, looking deep inside the flames, which slowly began to die. The room grew dark and cold, and when Kyairil breathed it came out as thick white clouds.

“What’s going on?” Roslile asked.

“I’m sorry,” Kyairil knelt on the floor, pulling his knees up and resting his head on them. “I’m having a bad dream.”

Roslile approached him, placing her hands on him. He felt cold, and somehow seemed smaller. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a new moon,” he whimpered.

Roslile looked out the window, where the moon was fat and full, almost pushing itself against the window. She shook her head. “But it’s full.”

“No.” Kyairil’s voice was wet and sniveling. “Outside of this, in reality.”

“Don’t cry.” Roslile wrapped her arms around him. “It’s okay. I’m here. I can change the dream.”

Kyairil shook his head. “Not even you could.”

A shadow appeared along the wall, and standing at the door was a tall, imposing woman, clad in a dark robe and mailed hands. Kyairil curled up tighter and lay on the floor. Roslile turned towards the woman, her fists clenched and her jaw stiff. “She died, Kyairil,” the woman said. “Your punishment has been decided.”

Roslile’s eyes opened wide and she pushed the woman away, turning the room into the beach. Kyairil lay in the water, shaking and crying. She pulled him out onto the sand and sat beside him, keeping quiet. “I think I’m selfish,” she began.

Kyairil’s arms twitched.

“The more time I spend with Poppy, I think of that,” she whispered. “I hear her talk about herself, about her family, about everybody in Obresh having to fight for their lives and freedom. I’ve never had to fight for anything. I thought I did, because I believed that being a hero was important. But being a hero isn’t something you aim towards. It’s not something you can be. It’s something you do without even thinking about it.”

Roslile sniffled and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’ve gotten myself into this mess because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. But it’s not! I didn’t want to protect my village. I do, but… I just wanted to be called a hero!”

Kyairil uncurled himself, rising off the sand and gazing down at Roslile. He touched her cheek, and his fingertips became wet with her tears, which he attempted to taste. He touched her again, moving her hands away. “You’re my hero.”

She shook her head. “All I had to do was free you, but I made it into a game! I didn’t want to help you because it was right or even nice. I’m so sorry!”

He wrapped his arms around her, feeling how warm and small she was. “Why are you doing it now then?”

“Because…” she whimpered.

Kyairil smiled and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I have so much I need to tell you, but I’m afraid if I do I will lose you, possibly forever.” He held her hands tightly. “I’m selfish too. I wanted to use your naivete to free myself. But now, I want to be free so I can have you.” He smiled sadly. “Roslile, you’re my hero.”

Roslile took her hands and placed them upon his face. “I know you did something bad to be imprisoned like this. I want to understand.”

Kyairil kissed her to silence her, and held her as the ocean lapped behind them, tickling at his feet as he laid her on the sand. He looked into her eyes and she gazed back at him. “I don’t want you to understand this,” he whispered. “Because you’re so much better than I could ever hope to be. You think you’re selfish,” he chuckled. “I am the king of selfishness.”

Roslile was woken by Poppy, who had come into her room. “It’s time,” she said softly. Roslile gathered her things and left her cabin with Poppy, who gave Roslile the parchment of intelligence she was to deliver to Prince Himank, hidden within the new handle of the halberd. Then she put her on a rowboat with a few others and Noodle.

Clothed in black, they used the moonless night to row to shore, where a carriage was waiting. “You must be our deliverer,” a tall orc said. “My sister sent word about you.”

“Bryok,” Roslile said softly. “It’s good to meet you.”

Bryok took Roslile and the others to his home, where they were given a hot meal and new clothes to blend into the territory they were about to travel. Roslile was outfitted with special leather armor, as was Noodle. She was even given a small medical pack, rations, and supplies for her mission. “Himank sent this for you as well.” Byrok stuck a pin into Roslile’s new cloak, a bright red ruby surrounded by pearls that looked like sharp fangs clutching the jewel. “So he will know who you are. He’s promised to give you safe passage to the kingdom, and an audience with his mother for your services.”

Roslile touched the ruby, and rather than a sense of excitement, like she had thought she would feel, she was overcome with dread. “I’m scared. Is that okay?”

Bryok put his big hand upon her shoulder. “Without fear, bravery is foolishness. My sister has trained you, so I do not doubt you are capable.”

“I’m with you,” Kyairil whispered. “My magic will protect you. I believe in you.”

Roslile set out for the northern part of the Peninsula, where the beaches turned into jagged cliffs that grew into vicious mountain peaks. Only recently had this land been taken by the Rakshasa Kingdom and their allies. Before, it belonged to a house which had aligned with Sanguis Rex, and the area was still filled with those wishing to fight against the Ruby Empire. Roslile journeyed first with a small party, disguised as a family. Once inside, Roslile would have to travel alone, as Himank was hiding in a camp of sick and injured civilians. Due to her appearance, Roslile would be taken for an orphan and able to slip past the border undetected. Or at least, not taken as a threat.

Once she was alone, all Roslile thought about was Earthwick. Traveling through the rocky terrain, she missed the lush green earth, the rolling hills of grass and the forest floors of thick moss. She longed for her garden. She missed her father horribly. Everything here was rocks, and more rocks, with very little green and living. It didn’t seem possible.

One evening she stopped to rest in a village that had probably once been the home of the civilians Himank was taking care of, so it felt like a small sign of hope. People still lingered, rescue parties or squatters taking refuge within the destruction. Roslile found a fire to sit near and took out some bread, which she began to eat slowly. “There’s people around, but everything is so quiet,” Kyairil murmured. “It’s like these people are ghosts.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.” Roslile looked at the destruction laid out around her, toppled houses and chunks of blackened wood projecting through the earth in jagged, misshapen fingers. “I never knew what war did. I’d never seen it before.” She squeezed her bread. “It’s so awful.”

“I’m sorry you had to see this, but it’s good you understand. War isn’t glamorous as the stories make it sound. War is ugly, and the innocent fall along with everyone else.”

Someone came and sat near Roslile, pulling their cloak around them tight. “Cold night, isn’t it?” he asked. His face was hidden by a hood.

Roslile tensed, and struggled to swallow the bread in her mouth. “Yeah,” she answered simply.

“Are you alone?” the man asked.

Noodle began to growl as he stood before Roslile. “I’ll take that as a no,” the man chuckled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m here,” she said.

The man looked to the fire. “Better than most,” he sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I’ve not been able to talk to people much. I’ve not seen my family in a while.”

Roslile thought about her father, and she sniffled. “My dad almost died recently,” the man said thoughtfully. “My brother is risking his life for his wife right now. Everyone is scattered and my mother is trying to hold everything together, but it’s hard. All I want to do is go home.”

Roslile watched the man closely. He was quite large, but there was a leanness to his shoulders, and there was something twitching underneath his cloak. “I understand that feeling,” she answered.

He chuckled. “I like your pin.” He stretched out his hand so she could see the ring on his finger, which matched.

Roslile sputtered, almost choking. “Are you...?”

Himank pulled back his hood slightly, and he was beautiful, with white fur streaked with black and large golden eyes surrounded by thick lashes. He smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. “How lucky. I came here on a whim. I never expected to meet you so soon.” He stood up. “Follow me, I’ll take you somewhere we can talk.” Roslile took Noodle, following far enough behind that it wouldn’t seem suspicious. She trembled with excitement. This was Prince Himank! Son of Queen Mythri, a demigod! She was so close to Mythri now, it felt unbelievable.

Himank led her into an abandoned building, where most of the roof was gone and the floor was covered in ash. He removed his hood and looked down at Roslile as she entered. His smile was bright and charming, and his ears twitched slightly. “Thank you for doing this. Yours would have been a difficult journey for even myself.”

“It’s an honor, your majesty!” Roslile said breathlessly.

“Please, call me Himank,” he laughed. “Here, you and I are equals. What shall call you?”

She was fit to burst, tanding in front of someone so important as Himank. She had admired the Rakshasa royal family for so long. “You can call me Roslile, Your Majesty. Roslile Portigardens! Uh, Himank, sir!” She was growing flustered. “I have the plans for…”

“Keep them,” Himank replied sharply. “Don’t give them to me. Should anything happen I would be the first one targeted. Until we get home, I am going to ask you to keep them safe.”

“But don’t you want to make sure they’re correct?”

Himank winked. “If they are, they are. If it’s a trap, well, best it be a trap I face at my best. Don’t you think, Roslile?”

“Oh,” Roslile whispered.

“I like him,” Kyairil chuckled. “Good to see the Rakshasa are still in their prime.”

Himank pulled a bag from a hidden hole in the wall. “Come now, let's go.” He pulled his hood back up. “We’ll go to the camp, and from there we’ll be able to head back home.”

Roslile followed with Noodle beside her, looking around to make sure they weren’t being followed. But once they reached a bridge over a ravine, someone stood on the other side. Himank pushed Roslile behind him. “Do you mind stepping aside so we can cross?” he called.

The figure stepped onto the bridge and pulled out a shining knife. “You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Himank replied. His hand on Roslile’s shoulder tightened. “Neither of us have anything except some food and a rather large dog.”

“Nothing we need from you, prince,” the figure growled. “Just need you to stand where you are.”

“Oh, come on.” Himank turned. “Run!” He shouted at Roslile, pushing her ahead of him as they tried to race to cross the bridge before the ropes were cut.

Roslile turned, urged on by Kyairil, and raised the halberd, pointing it behind them. Himank grabbed her, trying to get them both across safety. But Kyairil still channeled his powers through Roslile, her eyes crackling bright green and the sparks traveling down her arms and through the halberd. The ropes were cut, and the bridge began to fall behind them.

Himank was close, but he slipped, falling with the bridge. He screamed, and Noodle barked in terror. “You’ve got this!” Kyairil shouted over the wind. “Do it now!”

Roslile stabbed the halberd into the air, and they stopped falling and hovered in the air, floating as if in water. Himank’s breath shuddered. Noodle slowly floated upwards like a weightless bubble, whimpering as he went. “What’s going on? Are we dead?” Himank choked.

Roslile pulled the halberd back and the bridge rose once again, carrying them with it. The bright green sparks surrounded the bridge, connecting the ropes. The man on the other was shocked into dropping his blade, which allowed Roslile to attack. She vanished from in front of Himank and reappeared before the man, knocking out his ankles so she could put the blade of the halberd upon his neck.

“You did it!” Kyairil cheered. “You really did it!”

Roslile was shaking and breathing hard. “Holy oats,” she laughed.

Himank rushed up behind her, and Noodle stood on top of the man. Still in disbelief, but not wanting to waste a second, Himank took custody of their attacker with the man’s own knife. Himank’s hidden followers gathered, having been worried when the prince didn’t return at the promised time.

The man was taken to be interrogated, and Himank and Roslile followed along. “You saved my life,” he said quietly to her.

“Oh, I didn’t…” She stopped and shook her head. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”

Himank smiled down at her. “I’ve seen a lot since this war started. I’ve seen blood magic, and even practiced it. I’ve seen the liches work their power. But what you just did, I’ve never seen before. How did you do it?”

Roslile held the halberd close to her. “It wasn’t me, Your Majesty. Uh, Himank.” she gulped and extended the halberd. “It was him.”

Himank’s eyes narrowed and his tail twitched. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” He grinned. “I get how magic works.”

Roslile tried to argue, but Kyairil stopped her. “For now, let’s save it. You can explain everything later.”

There wasn’t much time to rest after that. Due to Himank being discovered by enemy forces, a rushed journey back to Rakshasa Country was warranted, and they left that night to where the rocky terrain turned to desert. “I know this is all very sudden, and you must be exhausted,” Himank said to her. “But once we are home, you are welcome to stay as long as you want. I plan on thanking you properly once we are there.”

“That’s very nice, but I would actually love to get home soon,” Roslile confessed. “I miss it, and I didn’t think I would miss it this much.”

Himank smiled. “I understand more than you know. My home is my oasis, and I miss my wife, my parents. I even miss all my awful siblings,” he laughed. “Where is home for you?”

“Earthwick,” she said with a smile. “It’s a small village in Charbagne.”

“Charbagne! A wonderful place,” he laughed. “My friend Ikid is king there. We just sent troops to protect its borders from Sothen and Gravelmeuse. It’s our last hope on the Western Continent.”

“Really?” Roslile exclaimed. “It’s safe? It really is?”

“Hopefully, we shall see.” Himank replied. “Perhaps once everything settles, I can visit your home. Is there anyone waiting for you there?”

“My dad,” Roslile quavered. “He’s all I’ve got.”

“I’m sure once word gets back about what you’ve done for all the Ruby Empire, you will have much more waiting for you,” Himank said brightly. “With the information you’ve brought us, you’ve probably just saved us all.”

“Hear that?” Kyairil said sweetly. “You’re not going to be just a hero to Earthwick, but to all the Ruby Empire.”

Tears filled Roslile’s eyes. “I don’t… I’m not…” She shook her head. “I just want to go home and be a gardener again.”

“You can. No one says you can’t.” Kyairil’s voice was warm and loving. “I’m so proud of you, Roslile.”

She smiled, tears streaming down her face. “Once you’re free, is it okay if we go home?” she sniffled. “Is that really what you want?”

“If that is alright. I know things have changed since the start of this journey. My mind certainly has. I wanted to return to what I knew once I fulfilled my promise to you. But is it okay if I remain by your side? At least until you grow tired of me?”

“I’m just a gardener,” she whispered.

“I know for a fact you’re not, my little dove. But it doesn’t matter. I will do as I please.”

Roslile smiled, feeling Kyairil’s arms wrap around her tightly. “Of course you will.”

#monsterxhuman #monster boyfriend #tiefling #halfling #monster romance #fantasy romance #my writing #momolady monsters #monster fudger

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levi-kornelsen · 7 years

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Little Nut

(A restructured Fairy Tale) Once there were two daughters of a wealthy family. Both were as pale as birchwood, and as beautiful and as prideful of their beauty as songbirds. Each of them strove to become yet more beautiful than the other, through all the arts they could put their hands to, and through all the deeds they thought might give them greater appeal.

The eldest thought that showing off wisdom and kindness would surely make her more loved, and so she cultivated her knowledge in the sacred grove near to the family lands, and was generous and fair to those seeking work in the enterprises of the family. And she became wise and kind, forgetting that it was only a pretence at the start, though she cared for her own beauty no less for all that. When the time came to choose a name, she named herself Naeve.

The younger thought that the air of the forbidden and the cloak of mystery would surely make her more enticing, and so she dared to go into deep crypts and cursed places, breaking seals without cause and learning what terrible things she might learn there. Hidden and isolated, she became arrogant and spiteful; when her naming day came, she called herself Valda.

Naeve sought to marry, and after a year of attendance at every dance and gather, had her choice of a thousand proposals. From these she chose the king of a neighbouring tribe. The people of that tribe celebrated, for she was known for her justice among her own - and because ever since she had made plain her desire to be courted, there had been hot competition among suitors, for she was known for her beauty.

Valda, who dwelled at that time in the bosom of a shattered ruin with the cursed spirit of that place, heard of this wedding, and was not pleased. Her ally the spirit, pleased by her spite, shared with her some power and bid her do with it as she would.

So it was that Valda attended Naeve on the wedding night, as the new husband and wife slept. From the shadows, Valda came to their bedside, and whispered a curse in the ear of her sister. You shall have a child right quick, she said, but only one in all your life. She shall share none of your beauty, and after she comes you will wither and die, and I shall become the beauty that all speak of. And with that, the younger sister left the elder, going back into the shadows from which she had come.

Naeve, who had wakened to the whisper and knew it for the curse it was, went in that same night to the sacred grove where she had studied so long. In terror and desperation, she begged of the wise and of the grove itself that they give her aid and break this curse. The wise had no help to offer, and when they consulted the spirit of the grove, it told them that the curse could not be broken.

But, the grove-spirit told them, it could bless the child with strengths all the same, to last through the time to come.

Could it, Naeve asked of the spirit, grant the child at least a little beauty as well?

At this, the grove was much amused, and answered back that it could grant that in plenty, but that the beauty of the child would share nothing in common with the beauty of her mother, just as the curse had said.

Let her have yours then, Naeve said; if my skin is pale as birch, let hers be as dark as walnut. If my eyes are the crystal pools that men praise, let her have eyes as green as your leaves. If I curve as the willow does in a hundred foolish poems, let her have the strength of oaks instead. If I am a trophy to be won, let her be a champion to win trophies of her own.

Hearing this, the spirit of the grove was no longer amused, but solemn, and said, it shall be so. And though Naeve did not know it, she had given her child another parent, for the grove gave much of itself to the child.

So it was; the girl was born nine months later, and all were amazed. Not least of those amazed was her father, who wondered if his wife had had another lover just before their time together. But this Naeve could not tell him, for she had kept all this a secret and had withered and died in childbed. And the wise would not tell him, for Naeve had sworn them to silence on these matters, so that she might at least have a few months of happiness.

The king called the girl Little Nut, that being good enough until she should be grown enough to choose her own name. He never ceased to wonder if she had another father in the world, but he resolved to raise her regardless, and loved her as a father should.

The secret that Naeve had kept, though, bore bitter fruit some years later. For none knew to fear when Valda made her return, all in pretence of travel in far places. Valda charmed the people with her mystery, and one of those she charmed was the widower king.

When Valda married the king and became queen, she played gently on the king's uncertainty. She cannot be your daughter, said Queen Valda; love her, of course, but remember that you are her caretaker, not her natural father. Perhaps a little distance would be wise? And if Naeve had made a mistake in keeping a secret, then Valda had made one too, in not seeking to discover what her elder had done about the curse. For it was through those whispers of making a little distance that Little Nut was sent to be educated, as her mother had been educated, in the sacred grove.

Even as they raised Little Nut and educated her, the wise did not break their vow of secrecy. But they did teach Little Nut all the ways to consult the spirit of the grove, which had made no such promise. The grove warned Little Nut to be wary of the new queen, and told her that when she had bested seven warriors in one day, it would tell her the whole of the story of her birth and the all the secrets it held. In this way, it hoped, it would set her on the course her mother had wanted.

To know the secrets of your own life is a powerful bolster to action. When she was thirteen, Little Nut bested five warriors in one day - not yet seven, but growing close. And the common folk began to say to one another, she will be a champion.

Queen Valda heard of this feat, and knew fear, for it meant that one day a mighty warrior might grow, and learn cause to hate her. So she sent a gift to Little Nut, as if from the king, of smoked meat and dried apples and hard cheese; the rations many champions carry when they travel. Little Nut thought this very fine, and ate of it - but it was terribly poisoned, and Little Nut fell sick of it. Had she not been born to the strength of the grove itself, she surely would have died.

For three years, Little Nut lay sick, breathing but otherwise not stirring, and the wise built a bier and lifted her onto it, and the grove itself mourned. In that same time, her aunt Queen Valda was busy, busy; the king died of being thrown by a horse that had never spooked before, and his guards were replaced, one by one, with grim soldiers in great masks.

And then one day, Queen Valda received word that the spirit of the grove was wakeful, and that it had taken on form as a hunter. Further, that in that form, it had found some other ally, and borrowed magic to cleanse the poison from Little Nut, and was returning home even then to wake her.

Queen Valda then saw the truth, that it must be the spirit of the grove that was responsible for the aspect and power of Little Nut. And if it were responsible, and if it cared enough to seek a remedy, then it might have further plans. So Queen Valda sent her elite guards to the grove, to finish what she had started with her poisoned gift. These elites went with speed, and cut down those of the wise who stood outside the grove. But they were not swift enough, for as they arrived, they saw the grove-spirit, in its form as a hunter, breathing life and power back into Little Nut.

It was then that Little Nut bested seven warriors in one day. It was then that she learned the secrets of her life. And it was then that she chose her name, and became Yrail. But when Yrail gathered the people and raised them to take the hall of the queen, they found it empty. The queen was not there to face them, or stand for justice; she had fled before their coming.

Yrail went then, into the wood, to hunt the queen her aunt, and bring her to account.

She had many adventures, and some of them I may tell you in time. She has brought justice to many of the cruel, and cast down many who were high, but never have I heard that she found out Valda from that day to this one.

But all this was not so long ago; for all that I know, she pursues her aunt even now.

#fairy tale #pagan #celtic #storytime

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