November 29 - December 5

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November 29 - December 5

Post by Wlonnie on Sat Dec 06, 2014 2:12 pm

200-2000 word story in which you must write an alternate universe-style story for any fandom of your choosing. The AU must be medieval-based.
By Davin.
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Re: November 29 - December 5

Post by Wlonnie on Sat Dec 06, 2014 2:13 pm

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. - Medieval AU

There is a force in this world stronger than swords. It is stronger than hate, greater than fear, and more belligerent than death. In a place where no man can bear to be alone, there is a cure for heartbreak’s endless disease. The answer is unity. When a true union is formed – one without strings attached or manipulation involved – the members of this union live by a promise. Leaving is never an option, and it is only natural to go on hopeless crusades for another when two or more are tied with such a promise. As long as it is nurtured, unity will never fail.
“My father’s coming back.”
The book was slammed on the short wooden table, sending up clouds of dust in its wake. As its owner leafed impatiently through its thin, age-worn pages, a fire crackled darkly in the corner of the stone-cut shelter, sending shadows and spooks across the slabs of rock walls. Three forms stood materialized in the light, the first of which in a rush to find her spot in the book. The other two bent silently over a bubbling brew of purple and white that smelled like lilacs in the dark, smoky evening. An odd set of partners, the three were, but none in the land were as staunch and devoted as they. After spending over a year by each others’ sides, they had learned to work in sync. They had learned how to read each other.
Like a solitary being, the man and woman hovering over the purple-white concoction lifted their heads and tilted them to the side.
“He hasn’t spoken to you in months, Skye.” The man’s works came out in a thick Scottish brogue. “What makes him so eager to come into the light now?”
The woman with the book gritted her teeth and slammed the object shut. “I don’t know, and this stupid book isn’t helping me figure it out.” Her piercing brown eyes darted over to the concoction, filling with confusion as she studied it. “Do you have something to help with that alchemy of yours?”
“It’s not alchemy; it’s far more logical than that.” A disgusted huff left the brewer’s lips as she added a pinch of white dust to the bubbling pot. “And yes, it will help. Through my recent studies, I’ve discovered that upon lacing an arrow with this poison, the target’s mind will slow down and become more easily persuaded.”
“She means it’ll help you manipulate your dad.” The man piped up.
“Leopold, that’s quite enough!” The white powder dusted lightly on Leopold’s sleeve, and he yelped in fear, madly trying to dust it off without making direct contact.
Skye chuckled half-heartedly. She reached next to the book and held up one of her homemade arrows. “I’d be more than happy to put one of these through Lord Whitehall’s puppet. But he’s not... I mean, from what we’ve heard...” She bit her lower lip momentarily, thoughts racing through her mind faster than a well-fed army. “Jemma, there’s no such thing as magic, is there?”
The brewer stopped stirring her poison and took in a deep breath. “Your father has been seen committing crimes that make him seem nearly... well... supernatural. And while I’m a firm believer in the fact that everything in life has some kind of explanation, we can’t hide from reality. Magic is a whole realm of facts and theories and star calculations that we haven’t figured out yet. Think about the bolts of power that run through your fingers when you touch metal. Some people believe it’s a form of possession, while others believe that it’s the energy of lifeless objects – a form of energy similar to our own.” Jemma shook her head, causing tendrils of her wavy hair to fall in front of her eyes. “Does that make sense?”
“It does.” Skye’s tone was still weak, but her eyes held a new sense of fire. An anger had awoken in her, and it was one that she had fuel to flame it with. “I just don’t know what to do about it. It’s like I have all of this information, all of this stupid information logged away in my mind like a library. But it’s like all of the information is written in another tongue.” She raised a chainmail-gloved hand to her forehead and sighed. But then, as warm and inviting as the fire in the corner of the cavern, Skye felt two hands rest lightly on either of her shoulders. Leopold and Jemma. They understood.
“No matter who you are, you’re not alone.” Leopold said.
Jemma smiled and nodded in accordance with his words. “It’s true. Besides, you can’t go up against the enemy without our inventions.”
Skye laughed. “Jemma, I wouldn’t exactly call a newly-designed bow an ‘invention’. Bows have been around for a while.”
“No,” Leopold shook his head. “No, actually, erm, Jemma changed the design. With my help, of course. She made it so that the wind will be working with you instead of against you. The design actually goes well with the lighter-yet-more-effective chainmail I made for your shirt and gloves.”
This time, the sound of Skye’s laughter was light and freeing, hanging loosely about the air like an infectious cure. “Okay, you guys are right. Maybe this whole thing... I don’t know, maybe we can get through it.”
“Of course we can.” Jemma leaned down and gave Skye a quick hug before pacing back to her poison. “Now then, shall we get started? I believe that a good cup of tea will be in order before we begin the planning.”
“You were just handling poison.” Leopold said dryly. “I’m making the tea.”
“Leo, you’re being ridiculous. I gathered the herbs – I’m the one who makes tea the best.”
“In case you’re forgetting, if it hadn’t been for me, you would have never learned how to make medicinal tea in the first place.”
“But this isn’t medicinal tea, it’s strengthening tea. Honestly, sort things out.”
“Tea sounds great.” Skye interjected. “And Jemma, Leopold’s right. Let him make the tea. You and I have far more important things to do.” Her eyes sparkled with the spirit of secrecy.
“Um, why do I get the feeling that you two are up to no good?”
Jemma rolled her eyes. “Oh shush, Leo, make our tea.”
The women burst into a fit of laughter, and just like that, all anxiety from the previous conversation had vanished. Looming battles and the forging of weapons would just have to wait. For once a union is formed with blood, hard work, and tea, it takes more than a deranged psychopath to tear it apart.
This team’s legacy had only just begun.
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Re: November 29 - December 5

Post by Melody on Thu Dec 11, 2014 7:01 pm

Inheritance Cycle
What if Eragon did not leave Alagaësia?


Wind howled through the ancient castle that once was the source of Alagaësia's troubles. Eragon pulled is cloak tight as the wind tried to tear it from him, seeking every opportunity it could. Since Galbatorix's defeat and subsequent death, Nasuada had been appointed queen over the land, adding a small portion to Surda to satisfy king Orion.
Nasuada had called for Eragon that morning. A messenger had arrived to inform him of it before the sun had even cleared the horizon.
What do you think she wants, little one? Saphira asked. He could sense she had not been up long. Traces of a long day and short night still clouded her thought.
I do not know. It must be important, for her to call for me this early.
Eragon pushed open the doors to the throne room.
“Lady Nasuada,” he said, bowing respectively.
She stood near the window, letting the morning sun reflect off her brilliant green dress. It bore no sleeves, allowing for the light colored flesh left from blade she wielded during the Trial of the Long Knives to show up in painfully stark contrast to her dark completion.
“Eragon, we need to talk.” Her voice was serious, although no more so than on most occasions. “What are your plans?”
“My plans?” he asked, not fully comprehending.
“Since you were fifteen, Galbatorix has been the main focus of you life, whether running from him, or hunting him. Now that he is dead, I want to know what you plan to do.”
“It has not been something I have given much thought to,” Eragon confessed. “I suppose I should train the next generation of Riders—Glaedr will be of great help to me.”
“Will you train them in Vroengard?” Nasuada asked.
“The magic there runs too deep. It would be impossible to reverse its affects.”
She looked him in the eyes. “You plan to leave, do you not?”
He nodded. “With the Eldunarya , I am too powerful. I fear that I could become, well, another Galbatorix.”
“But you are not like him,” she insisted. “He was a cruel, heartless monster.”
“Not at first. What is to stop me from one day become as he was?”
“You are different, Eragon. I know this.” The confidence in her voice surprised him.
“Still, I would not feel comfortable staying here. If I ever did... change, who could stop me? My power if even greater than Galbatorix's at his height.”
“Who will train the dragon Riders then? Who will make sure the remaining eggs hatch?”
“I will set sail,” he said. “There are lands beyond this one. Potential Riders can come, and I can train them there. When they are ready, they can come back to Alagaësia.”
Nasuada shook her head disapprovingly, sending stands of her dark hair waving back and forth. “Eragon, that will never work. No one will leave their home and travel hundreds of miles to where there might be another land, and where they might become dragon Riders.”
Eragon was surprised at his next words as he spoke them. “But I'm scared.”
Even more to his surprise, Nasuada walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him.
“I'm scared too,” she said in little over a whisper.
This was unlike the Nasuada he knew. She was always in control, never once doubting or showing weakness.
Breaking away from him, she add, “But I have to think of what is good for Alagaësia, not myself. I have to stay strong for the people.”
She is right, you know, Saphira said.
“I will think on it.”
He turned to leave, but then stopped at the doorway. “He'll be back.”
Nasuada knew he meant Murtagh. “I know.”

Eragon ran the soft cloth along the length of Brisingr's blade. It did not need it, but he found it a calming sensation. Saphira lay behind him, stretched on the grass-felted ground. They were located behind the caste, in the palace court yard. The wind had abated, giving way to a beautiful sunny day.
I do not know what to do, he told the dragon.
I think you do.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
You know deep in your heart what is best, she explained.
Do I? I know it will be hard to train Riders if I leave, but I am afraid to stay. What is best for Alagaësia?
For how many years did the dragon Riders protect the land while the people lived in prosperity? For how many years did they keep out the surrounding dangers? Running will not fix things, little one.
I know, but—

Saphira interrupted him before he could continue. You need to have more faith in yourself. You will not abuse your power. With a smile, she add, I won't let you.
This evoked a small grin from Eragon as well. “You're right... I will stay.”
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Re: November 29 - December 5

Post by Admin on Fri Dec 12, 2014 4:19 am

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived in a quaint little town upon the border of the desert and the Great Barrier Forest a boy, by the name of Ukel. The young lad had always heard of epic tales recounting legendary knights battling through perilous dungeons, slaying fearsome dragons, and it had always been his dream to someday join their ranks. Time went on though as the boy lived and grew up on the border between the desert and the Great Barrier Forest with his loving uncle Weno, who cared for and treated Ukel as his own son.

One day at the age of seventeen after enduring a heated argument with his uncle, Ukel went out to fetch some eggs from the barn. He was red of face and short of breath when he marched back in the house, only to see his uncle lifeless and bloodied lying on the wooden floor. Ukel wept that day, vowing to one day become a knight who would protect all the good people of the far and unknown lands.

Ukel had always heard of a crazy old man who’d lived in the craggy mountainous terrain which sat to the west of their town, and after burying his uncle he decided he would go pay the old man a visit (because he had nothing better today and TBH the man had always stalked him for some unknown reason but this was obvs. because he was cray cray). So that afternoon Ukel trekked up the mountainside where he found the old man’s villa and outdoor recreational-center. He asked the old man (whom he later found out had a name) if he would teach him in the ways of knighthood. The old man whom had a name told Ukel that he was crazy, as being a knight was very dangerous business (and the old man who had a name himself had no idea as to the arts of chivalry and knighthood). But he just so happened to be a Jedi and was willing to teach Ukel in the ways of the force.

After a long time of strenuous practice and a heavy amount of substantial training with the old man (who had a name), Ukel decided it was time for dinner and thanked the old man whom he knew had a name but didn’t know it. It turned out the old man who had a name’s name was George Clooney, going by the alias of Neb Ibonek, which can be spelt the same backwards and forwards. It is important to note that George Clooney was, and is an old man.

After thorough training with George Clooney who, like, disappeared in the first episode (which technically was the fourth), Ukel made it to the even farther away kingdom of Pandora where a pandemic was happening. Each year, thousands of blue shaded pandas were forced against their wills by the human offworlders to participate in a deadly sport called the “Hungry Games”, where each panda tossed bamboo at one another until they fell over and died (as the pandas in Pandora were very much allergic to the properties of green and purple bamboozums).

Ukel knew he had to do something, and decided to start off by killing their leader President Sunny Sideburns, who turned out later to be his father (but that’s another story for another time). All the animals mocked him however after he liberated the pandas from the evil pandemicating offworlders within Pandora, and he was forced to flee to the bridge of Khazad Dum where he resided (lest he were to be mocked outside of the leeway by the jays that were quite un-nice folk when riled up).

Ukel lived the rest of his days under the bridge (until he was later bitten by a spider and gifted with untold powers which cannot be contained in the tomes of this novel), eating bee’s wax and the larvae which make their nests from within the bridge.

This was how Ukel spent his time trying to pass the first mundane week after his uncle’s death. As for the rest of his stories and exploits, are they not written in the tomes and the annals of the Popular Culture?
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Rose Tyler

Post by LittleDancer on Thu Jan 08, 2015 6:05 pm

It had been three months. She tried to forget, but how could you forget someone like him?  She only had one thing to remember him by, but every time she saw it, it hurt her more, Creating a deeper hole in her heart.  She couldn’t bear to walk past it, every time she did a string broke inside of her. But she couldn’t help herself, a little hope always lingered, that he might come back. But he never came. He was gone forever.
She couldn’t stand it, she went back. It had collected dust and the paint was fading. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. She crumpled to the ground and pulled her knee’s up to her chest and buried her head in them. Now that she finally went inside she knew that it was over, he was never coming back.
”Doctor, I will miss you” Rose whispered.
Rose stopped crying and looked around her. Nothing was the same, it was smaller, all the magic gone out of it. He was gone and so was his legacy, nothing remained of him except her. The blue walls seemed to close in around her.
“Just work one last time. Please.” Rose said desperately. “Doctor, I need you.”
Rose got up and brushed the dust off her jeans and walked out of the Police Box. She locked it again and walked away, not looking back.
Without him everything will unravel, even time. She never realized that everything hinged on the one person. And he had no ones, except her. And now he was gone.
The Daleks were coming. She could feel it, it was only a matter of time before they attacked. The earth would be doomed, humans would spread, the Doctor was always proud of how the humans endured. But this time there was nowhere to go.
Daleks would conquer, either killing or making us like them, trapped inside, no way to get out. Forced to kill their fellow companions, turned into a killing machine.
Rose sat down with her back against a tree. This is how it would end. Not on some foreign planet, or playing for her life on a game show, or murdered by a ghost, or killed by Slitheen’s.
“Raxatoraphelapatorian” She whispered to herself. It would end like this, alone. The Doctor gone. The Human race dying, and the world being taken over by the Dalek race. And she was helpless to do anything at all. She had to die alongside with them.
I never got to say goodbye, you were just gone. Never got to say that I loved you, or that you were my hero. That you gave me the time of my life, making me whole. You made me who I am. I’m falling apart without you. Every night I dream about you, thinking about the life we had. I’m hanging on by a thread.
“If there was ever a time we needed you it’s now” I said to the sky. I leaned my head back against the tree and accepted the coming darkness.
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Re: November 29 - December 5

Post by xxShayWolfxx on Thu Jan 08, 2015 8:32 pm

“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I side with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to know that for destruction, ice, is also great, and would suffice.” Bella recited, reading from her scroll that lay before her on the dusty wooden table.
“Marry me.” Jacob whispered, kissing her cheek from where he sat beside her on the old wooden bench.
“No.” Bella murmered back, gazing into his eyes. They both paused and chuckled momentarily, watching each other with interest. Bella's gaze broke off and glanced around the old, empty brick room. Silence filled the air, aside from the occasional creaks of the old castle doors at the ends of the hallways.
“Marry me.” He repeated, bringing her eyes back to rest on his.
“Change me.” She sighed stubbornly, rolling her scroll back up.
“How about... a compromise. I'll change you if you marry me.” Jacob grinned, leaning over her shoulder persistently.
“That's not fair!” Bella snorted, standing. “Marriage is just... A piece of paper.”
“Where I'm from, it's the way one says 'I love you'.”
“Well... at our age, it's the way one says 'I just got knocked up'.”
“So... You're worried about.. What people will think?”
“You know two out of three marriages end in divorce?”
“Well, I think you'll find the uh, werewolf/human divorce rate, is a little lower.” “So marry me.”
“I can't... I must meet the king at four.” Jacob chuckled at her response, and kissed her lovingly.
“You're not the princess type, Bella.” Jacob snorted in disrespect towards her father, the king of this ancient kingdom.
“Tell that to my father.” She sighed, stepping towards the old wooden and metal door, only visible by the torch planted on the brick wall above the doorway.
“Run away with me.” He blurted out, gently grabbing her pale arm. Her hand on the doorhandles paused, as she turned to meet his gaze. “Me and you, we're different from these people. We don't belong here, Bella. Your father's kingdom, this castle... This might be their life, but it isn't ours. We can make our own choices, we feel different emotions. These people, they're like walking robots, zombies. They speak of rules, fables, duties. Nothing else, Bella. But you... You feel, you daydream, you're different. We don't fit in here, we never have, and we never will. We can leave this place, have our own life, together.” He said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her smooth face.
“My father does not even approve of you coming near me, Jacob...” She started, before he cut her off.
“I'm not... strong enough, to stay away from you anymore. I'm gonna fight for you. Until your heart stops beating.”
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Re: November 29 - December 5

Post by Natarsha on Fri Jan 09, 2015 2:59 pm

So this week, seeing as neither me and Adley do not like writing fanfics and had no idea what to write about we decided to write it together so this is Adley's and I's story for this week

It was midnight. Sherlock had spent the entire day listening to cases about goblins. Of course he knew the answer to all the cases without even investigating, but he preferred to annoy his customers by shouting "LEAVE" in an exasperated tone while they were in the middle of a sentence.

"You'll get into trouble if you ever do that to someone other than a peasant" said John in his annoyed voice.

"At least that would be interesting" replied Sherlock.

"How would that be interesting?" John said anger in his voice.

"My dear John, when will you start treating me like an adult instead of child" Sherlock replied and with that remark John laughed till it hurt to breathe.

"You... act like an adult" John said bursting into a collapse of laughter "Never will that happen" John stated, laughing once again till the pain in his sides were no longer bearable.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile. It ended quickly as he stood up to observe the happenings outside the window. Someone that looked rather interesting was about to enter the building. Probably a Duke or a Count, he wore extravagant clothing, but was walking stealthily. The stealth was something Sherlock was used to, no one wanted to be seen coming to him. How stupid of me, thought Sherlock, to even consider him a count, he has duke written all over him. Married, arranged marriage of course, has older children and few servants. I wonder what he has to say to me...

The Duke entered the building, an angry look plastered on his face "Where's Sherlock" He merely shouted, and Sherlock turned and walked over to the Duke.

"Can I help you?" He asked as polite as possible, John stood shocked at his politeness.

"Yes, I have a murder that is needed to be solved." He stared blankly.

"A murder? How boooring" Sherlock whined.

"What's with people and murders? Why can't we all dance and hold hands singing about happiness" He joked walking around the building.

"I'll have you know this is an important murder mystery" The Duke replied.

“Preposterous, there is no such thing as an important murder” He turned and faced the Duke with a smile plastered across his face “But please do tell” He stated rather annoyed, The Duke flustered and angry exited the building at hasten speed, Sherlock stood there smirking in triumph.

"Well now what are we going to do?" Asked John, eyebrows raised.

"Ale."

"Pardon me?"

"He’s going to the ale house, were should bump into him there."

John looked at Sherlock, questions in his eyes.

"What?" asked Sherlock, confused as to why John would have questions?

"Nothing, let’s go then."

"How'd you know?" John asked as they walked to the ale house.

“Know what?” He said looking at his hands “Have you noticed, hands are weird looking?”

“Jeez Sherlock, grow up and pay attention. How did you know he was going to the ale house?” John replied rather annoyed.

“I don’t know of such, but I do know” He stated as he entered, John stood shaking his head and soon followed.

"He’s not even here" said John, looking around the crowded ale house.

"Of course he isn’t, he’s in a pub across town."

"Then why are we here?"

Sherlock held up two mugs of Ale, "For a drink" he said smiling.

John sighed "why not then, let’s enjoy a drink, with a crazy... Sherlock?"

"Where are you going Sherlock?"

"Hah, told you hands were funny John."

"Sherlock, stop starring at those gentlemen’s hands."

"John, look at his hands."

"I just told you NOT to look at his hands, why do I have to look at his hands?"

"Because John, just look at them."

"Fine, I’m looking at his hands."

"And?"

"They look just like hands, what a coincidence."

"He a foreigner John, see his fingers."

"He looks perfectly English; lots of people have funny fingers."

“Do all perfectly English people with funny fingers only have nine, John?” Sherlock turned facing his companion.

“Maybe he had some sort of accident when he was younger, who knows it’s none of our business so stop looking” He stated in a harsh tone.

“John, if he were to have some accident at the age of nine would one finger be freshly bandaged?”

“Well no, but he could be a butcher or something.”

“I said he was a foreigner John. Not a butcher and he doesn’t have butchery hands there more...”

“There more what Sherlock?”

“There more ‘I just stabbed someone and while doing that I lost a finger’ kind of hands” He stated in full seriousness.

“How on earth did you get that Sherlock that is utterly impossible?”

“Do you honestly know nothing, Watson” Sherlock stated as if it was a well-known fact.

"I know that you’re being very vague and obnoxious."

"He a foreigner, from Germany, only Germans uses their thumbs first when counting on their fingers. If he’s from Germany yet has a perfect English accent then he must have lived here a long time, but he is wearing all new cloths. A man of his wealth does not buy all new cloths, maybe the occasional new piece of clothing, but never all new. He murdered someone John and got blood everywhere and chopped of his own finger, what an idiot."

“How on earth did you get that from looking at his hands? do you like study hands or something?”

“Of course not John that is utterly stupid, I took a course online. But it is true he cut his own finger off while killing someone, obviously he is an amateur.”

“So you know his back story, who did he murder than Sherlock?”

“Whoever the Duke, said was important?”

“And again you’re being obnoxious and a show off.”

"He’s obviously linked to the duke because they both smell the same."

"Now were smelling him to..." "Oh God, he does stink."

"That is why I always sit close to my customers John, you were standing off behind me whoknowswhere and didn’t even notice the Dukes smell."

"He smelled like that to?"

"Not quite as bad, but yes, the Duke obviously tried to wash it off."

"So they are accomplices?"

"John, John, John, they’re not at the same pub. Why would they be accomplices?"

"I don’t know, I just thought..."

"Good effort, now be quite, I’m thinking."

John, having nothing else to do turned to observe the suspect, and then realizing he was staring at a murderer subconsciously put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

As Sherlock got lost in his train of thought, John watched the nine fingered man get up and head out the door.

“Sherlock, I hate to be rude but he just left” John stated rather calmly.

“Who did?”

“The nine fingered man, you know the murderer?”

“Oh right, well we best be off. Got to catch he man in crime, don’t we?”

John rolling his eyes agreed and got up his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

“John, why are you holding your sword?” Sherlock asked as they exited the building.

“You know how I get after being around murders, I get all nervous and jumpy” He states.
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Re: November 29 - December 5

Post by ScrambledMemories on Fri Jan 09, 2015 6:45 pm

Word Count: I dunno, something under 2,000.
Fandom: Black Butler

~~~~
Sebastian says he knows the entire manor like the back of his hand, that he has it all memorized. He says he knows every corridor, every room, every pathway, and every staircase.



I know it’s not true. 

Once, when I was smaller, about four or five, I was playing a game of hide and seek with Mother and Father. I of course had found the best hiding spot, a smallish room, the door hidden behind a large, oak cabinet that obviously hadn’t been used in years. 



Dust swirled through the air as inch by inch I pushed the cabinet out of the way. I was much older now, thirteen. Finally the cabinet moved, the door to my place revealed. The servants, Finnian, Mey-Rin, and Baldroy have often asked me where I left too, but I only shook my head in response.

This was my spot.



I remembered once when Mother and Father asked Sebastian to watch me, see where I was going. I could feel the chills running down my spine as he watched me. He wasn’t bad; there was just something about him. A dark aura that surrounded him, like a heavy veil. 



That day instead of going to my spot, I had climbed into a secret nook in the stone wall to the East of the house, reading. After about an hour or so Sebastian was satisfied, coming back another hour later to remind me of afternoon tea.

I believe he thought he was being clever, knowing where my hiding spot was.



Well, the joke’s on him.

On my hands and knees I crawled through the small door, wondering yet again who it was used for, and why it was here. Once I was inside I felt around for my lantern, oil, and matches I left in here, desperately trying to stifle a cough.

Dust was rising all around me, from my hands across the cold stone floor. It would be very inconvenient if I happened to have an asthma attack in here, someone might hear. 

Finally locating the matchbox I lit one, discovering my lantern and oil knocked to the other side of the small five by six room.

Picking them up I refilled the lantern, setting it in the middle as I sat in a pile of old, musty blankets in one corner. As the flame spluttered to life it lit up the walls, some parts covered in tapestries while the others were bare. 

Closing my eyes I leaned my head back onto the woolen blankets, remembering the gossip I had heard while out in town today.

”There’s the Phantomhive boy! Haven’t seen him out for a while, only his servants.” “How did they look? I heard he mistreats them, works them to the bone and then the whip if the job isn’t well done.” 



I had had to resist the urge to whack him upside the head with my cane after that comment. I would never mistreat them, my servants. They were one of the few people whom I actually conversed with on a regular basis.



Well, there was Alois Trancy, but he was such an annoyance. I only spoke to him because Sebastian said that it would make a good public image. There was Elizabeth, my fiancée too, but I hadn’t seen much of her lately. She was out visiting cousins, which, needless to say, I was thankful for.

It’s nice to take a break from having someone at your side all day, lingering over your shoulder if you’re trying to work, basically acting like they’re part of you.



She did have her good qualities, though. She was beautiful, gentle, sometimes a bit loud and bossy, but not so demanding you tired of her easily. She would make a great mother, when we’re older. 

I grabbed the quill and scrolls I had tucked away on a shelf, rolling them out to a fresh page and dipping the point of the quill in the ink.

I had been writing a little bit each day, trying to piece something together so that it would be recorded. My parents deserved to be remembered. 

Soon my mind was off to unpleasant thoughts, again, as my pen scratched busily against the parchment. It always did, whenever I was down here.

It was the one place where I let my mask fall, my thoughts loose, and my emotions free.

I always kept it up in public; it would never do for the locals to see their lord fall apart as if he was some weak, sniveling child.



When I closed my eyes again fire flared behind them, trees bursting into flame and windows shattering as the orange tongues danced wildly around, a dance of death and destruction.

I remember only being able to stand in fear, screaming my parent’s names as Sebastian had one hand on my shoulder, watching sorrowfully. 

Tears were wetting my cheeks as I gasped for air, my lack of breathing causing me to go fuzzy headed. I had fallen to my hands and knees; spit dribbling down my chin as I coughed violently, attempting to get air into my scorched lungs. 



Sebastian had one arm around me protectively, rubbing my back and attempting to help me calm down. Nothing had worked, and my last thoughts before falling unconscious were ‘I’ll see Mother and Father again.’



No such luck though.

I had woken up in an inn room, the mattress lumpy underneath my back as I woke up slowly. When I was fully aware of my surroundings I had sat up, and Sebastian was waiting in a chair in the corner, his usually prim and proper suit crumpled and slightly sooty. 



“That wasn’t a dream…” My speech faltered as he shook his head slightly. “No, young Master. It wasn’t.”



I didn’t cry then, I didn’t cry as they talked and fought over who was to take custody of me, I didn’t cry as they lowered the empty coffins into the graves, side by side, matching designs. They hadn’t found any remains in the ruins of the house.



It had been hard those past few months, living in a different house as the mansion was repaired. I didn’t want to live anywhere other than my old home. Soon enough it was finished, exactly the same as the last one down to the color and length of the drapes.



“Young Master? It’s almost time for afternoon tea, it is!”



I sigh slightly as I hear Mey-Rin calling from a few rooms away, and silently I snuff out the flame, crawling out and putting the cabinet back in its place. “I’m over here.” I call as soon as I was a good distance away from my hiding spot, brushing the dirt off my clothes. 



She starts slightly and turns around, a relived smile on her face as she sees me. “Oh, there you are! Sebastian’s made your favorite cake for tea, yes he has! And your tea, brewed to perfection!”

I nodded, heading up the stairs towards my study. 

‘Well, break’s over.’ I think to myself, ignoring Mey-Rin’s babbling about Sebastian. ‘I’ve got a lot of paperwork that needs to be done…’



As I place my hand on the rough wooden railing, a glint of blue caught my eye. Ah, yes. The ring my Father had worn, as head of the Phantomhive Manor. It was a bit large for my hand but I kept it, my last possession from my family. 



“Been off you ‘Your Place’ Young Master?”



Sebastian’s tone is lighthearted and teasing, but I can see the annoyance in his eyes. I could hide from him anytime I wanted, using that area. A smirk forms on my lips as I reply, “Yes, I have. Spent quite a bit of time in there this time, I think.”



“Indeed. Well, you missed a visit from Mr. Trancy, I invited him back over tomorrow. Elizabeth has also come back from visiting her family. She wishes to meet with you when you’re available, to discuss plans for a ball.”

Inwardly I sigh, this is Sebastian’s way of ‘punishing’ me when I go off to my area. He plans a lot of social events, which he knows I don’t enjoy.



“Alright.” 

My tone is irritated, and I don’t pretend it doesn’t bother me as I scowl at the stack of deeds, permissions, and leases in front of me. “Here you are, my lord.” Sebastian places a cup of earl gray tea, the finest I’ve tasted by far, and a plate with a slice of cake in front of me, leaving the room after he’s done.



“Enjoy your work.”


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