Delia comforts Mera

~I’ve been wanting to actually put this to “paper” for a while, and just figured it would be good to put down a rough draft.  I’ve been stifled, creatively, recently but this has been ever present in my mind for a while.  These are late night dabbling with my Warden-Commander Delia Amell and Inquisitor Mera Lavellan.  Set post Trespasser DLC.  OC’s are mine.  Canon?  Not so much.  Though there are quite a few headcanons and ships in here.  Have fun!

Spoiler alert – Major spoilers for ending of Dragon Age Inquisition and Trespasser DLC.  Well, probably for all of the Dragon Age games.  Read at your own risk! It is also a rough draft, and continuity has not been solidified.  ~

Setting: Skyhold, 9:44 Dragon

It had rained for two weeks straight and, while many knew that the Inquisitor had no influence over the elements in such a way, most of the Keep felt that the events of the past month had been the reason for the downpour.  Despite many attempts to rally Mera’s spirits, the elven Inquisitor kept to her room when it was not necessary for her to act in any official capacity.  Even Dorian, who was known to be Mera’s closest friend, was unable to give her comfort, and they spoke nearly every day.

It was for such a reason as this that the Hero of Fereldan found herself making her way to the Inquisitor’s room.  Though she probably didn’t have the right words to say, there was a thing or two she could say that could help the situation.  They were words she’d said to her cousin Kaitlyn, the Champion of Kirkwall, and had been offered to her by Zevran when she’d face the worst after the Blight was ended.

You think it’ll help,” Cullen had asked, before she’d left him in his office.

Maybe not right now,” Delia had replied, accepting the kiss he offered.  “But it will, hopefully, prove to be a foundation for when she finally accepts the truth herself.

“What are you going to say to her?”

She hadn’t responded.  In truth, she didn’t think she’d be brave enough to tell Cullen the things that had happened after Denerim.  She fingered the white ribbon tied across her left wrist and felt tears prick her eyes.  She didn’t want to see the hatred in his eyes again.  If it nearly killed her the first time.

“Mera?”  Delia called, up the stairwell, hoping that the Inquisitor would be awake.

“Up here!”  Was the response.

With a sigh, the mage Warden slowly climbed the stairs, finding the elf mage sitting in a large chair next to the fire.  Delia had seen that look before.  She’d felt exactly what Mera was feeling.  Kaitlyn had felt that too.  It was that feeling that everything you’d fought for was in vain.  That you no longer mattered.  That everything you wanted was taken from you and you were left with nothing, just an empty shell of the person you once were.

In a way, that was more true for Mera, who, by the time Delia had reached the top of the stairs, had suddenly became very interested in the new arm Dagna had made for her.  Delia smiled at her own first memory of the dwarf from Orzammar.  Dagna had been so fully of energy and had been very enthusiastic about learning.  Delia was glad she’d been able to send Dagna to the Circle, even more so that she learned so much and was to help the Inquisition in the way that she had.

“Josephine said you hadn’t eaten since yesterday,” Delia offered, setting down a tray laden with food and tea.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty.”

Mera was silent, which Delia was expecting.  Nothing was going to happen unless Delia spoke first.  So, the older mage sat poured herself a hot cup of tea and settled down in front of the fire place.  Many of her favorite stories told during her travels happened near a fire much like this one, granted it wasn’t in a fireplace.  Delia couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in such extravagant living arrangements.  The room she’d been given was an act of hospitality she wasn’t accustomed to.

“Do you know that I was almost executed due to the my almost successful assassination attempt on King Alistair?”  The question hung in the air and Delia could almost swear that even the crackle of the fireplace was silent.  Granted it wasn’t the truth, but the Warden-Commander had learned a thing or two about storytelling in her journeys.

“But I thought…”  Mera began her thought but hastily stopped herself.  It didn’t matter.  Delia knew what she was going to say.

“Oh, yes, I loved Alistair dearly, and a part of me probably always will.  But that didn’t mean that he did something that made me so mad I wanted to kill him.”  Delia leaned back against the warm brick wall and raised the glass to her lips.  She took a long drink, and allowed the liquid to warm her insides.

“You see, everyone knows of our love story.  An ex-templar, well not even a templar.  He was more like a recruit.  And me, a Circle Mage that almost had to be conscripted into the Wardens.  Some like to say it was destiny and love to believe the romance.  But not everyone knows what happened during the Landsmeet.  Many have gone to great lengths to keep it a secret of how we went out separate ways, and we choose to let them believe that we still carry a torch for each other.  Though, now that he’s married, I think it’s become less likely to believe.”

“What did you do?”  Mera asked, her legs becoming uncurled so that her feet could rest on the floor.

She chuckled and leaned her head back.  The memory as vivid now as it was the day it happened.  “Well, you see when I was vying to put Alistair on the throne, I sort of said that I would marry him, so that the kingdom would have an heir.  At the time, it made complete sense.  I was a fool to believe otherwise.  Alistair came to see me later and told me that because we were both Grey Wardens, conceiving a child would be completely impossible.

“I’m not saying that he lied to me, because that is a very accurate truth.  And I would have been content to leave it at that, if it had not been for the fact that I had overheard him and Arl Eamon talking earlier in the day about us.  You see, it wasn’t because I am a Grey Warden that we weren’t allowed to be together, but because I am a mage.  By law, we are not allowed to hold property of our own or have titles or anything like that.”

Mera was silent and Delia turned to look at her.  The elf’s blonde hair had fallen from its usual updo and was hanging around her in soft waves.  Her brown eyes were shining with unshed tears.  Delia knew that she’d hit close to home with her story.

“That hardly seems fair,” she whispered, a small quiver in her voice.  “You’d just saved all of Thedas from a huge threat.”

“But at the end of the day, Mera, I was still a mage.  And nothing, regardless of heroism or love, could ever wash away my Maker given sin of being a mage.”  Delia signed and returned her attention to the flames.  “It was the second time my curse had caused me to not be with the one I loved.”

“Who was the first?”  Mera asked, before she realized the answer for herself.  “Oh, I see.”

Delia felt a tell-tale blush creep up her face as she remembered her time in the Tower with Cullen.  “He was my first love, and because I was a mage, and he a templar…our love was forbidden.  I was so angry, that I was allowed to do all of these things for Fereldan and fight for a cause that I originally wanted no part of, and be a part of a crumbling organization…but I could not do the one thing I wanted more than anything in my life.

“I wanted to love.  The real and true kind of life that you only read about in storybooks.  And Alistair lying to me like that, I was so angry and enraged.  It wasn’t all his fault, and he understands why I reacted the way that I did.  I threw a reign of fireballs at him, missing on purpose, obviously.  Nearly killed him, and got into a bit of trouble because of it.”

For the first time since Delia had met Mera, the elf laughed.  Not just a soft chuckle or giggle, but a full belly laugh that sounded all throughout her room and was hopefully heard in the garden below.   “The next time we play Wicked Grace, you have to tell that story!”

Delia chuckled.  “I’d be happy to.  My reasons behind killing Alistair aren’t exactly why I came up here.”  She sobered quickly and drew a breath.  “Those months after Denerim were the worst I’d ever experienced.  I managed to keep my head in the game during Amaranthine, but just barely.  Afterwards, I was just in a dark place.  It took me nearly two years to find my way out.”

“What happened?”  Mera asked, coming to sit down on the floor in front of the Grey Warden.

Without saying anything, Delia removed the white ribbon tied from her wrist and showed Mera what lay hidden underneath there.  A thin white scar was visible in the light coming from the fire.

“Blood magic…” Mera whispered, her eyes turning dark towards Delia.  She leaned back as if the Grey Warden was no longer to be trusted.

“No!”  Delia cried, resting her right hand on Mera’s arm.  “No, I would never.  Not after what I saw at the tower and with what happened to Cullen.  I never could bring myself to do such a thing.”

“Then how do you explain this?”  Mera asked, her tone becoming very angry and accusatory.

Delia rose to her feet and began pacing about the room.  “I wanted my life to end, Mera.  I wanted all of the blood to drain from my body and to be free from the hatred and darkness of this world.  I’m a very strong mage, and I have been all of my life.  Demons don’t usually try to come at me, and that was true this time.  I simply ran a blade across my wrist and prayed for the end.

“Unfortunately, I’d forgotten what a skilled rogue I had traveling with me.  Zevran discovered me and another mage in our party, Anaerin, she quickly sealed the wound.  However, as the wound was self-inflicted the way that it was, it’s left this scar.  Zevran and Anaerin talked with me a lot during that time and were able to help me through the darkness.”

“You were fortunate,” Mera replied, bitterly, her own eyes turning towards the flames.

“As are you, Mera.”  Delia knelt down in front of her and took her hands in her own.  “I can easily see what you’re doing though others cannot.  You’re pushing yourself through your days.  Trying to stay focused as the Inquisition goes through a major transition.  And then, when you are alone, and when you think no one is watching you, you turn hide away someplace where you can try to sort out the mess of the life that’s been created without your consent.”

Mera’s eyes filled with tears and Delia knew she’d hit home.

“It’s so hard, Delia.”  Mera sounded so frightened and so unsure that it nearly broke the older woman’s heart.  “There’s so much responsibility and so many things that I have to do but I just can’t focus on them because all I want…”  The Inquisitor stopped and choked on a heart-wrenching sob but the Hero of Fereldan didn’t need her to continue.

“All you want is to find Solas,” she finished for her.  “I know.   I understand.  But you’ve done what both Kaitlyn and I have done.  We both allowed our titles to simply replace us.  Kaitlyn held on to her title of Champion of Kirkwall and used it as a shield to simply hide behind.  The same happened to me.  We forgot that we were people who were allowed to have hearts and to have feelings.”

The older mage helped Mera to her feet and they walked towards the windows that opened onto one of her balconies.  The cool mountain wrapped around both of them and Delia held the heart-broken woman close.  It was impossible to explain to another what such a loss did a person.  It was simply felt and understood without a word ever being spoken.

“How did you both survive?”  Mera asked, wiping away tears with her hand.

“That is quite possibly the greatest thing of all.”  Delia smiled, mischeviously, quite pleased with what happened in the end for both her and for her cousin, Kaitlyn Hawke.  “Instead of our titles using us, we in turn used our titles.”

Mera blinked up at her, confusion very apparent on her face.  “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve used the title of Warden-Commander to gain access to places and knowledge that I could never have attained otherwise.  It’s no secret that I’m trying to find a cure for the taint nor that I’ve spent quite a lot of time in talks with Fiona.  I’m not doing this so that Wardens don’t have to be Wardens forever.  I’m doing this for me.  So that I can have a life I’ve always wanted.

“Kaitlyn has done the same thing.  She sided with the templars only because she needed them to become Viscountess of Kirkwall.  Without them, her plans of reimagining the Circle in Kirkwall would’ve been nothing more than a dream.  Despite the fact that she was discovered and run out of Kirkwall, she now will the front on securing a peaceful life for mages across Thedas.”

“So you’ve basically used the system that used you?”  Mera asked, releasing Delia’s hands and leaning against the balcony railing.  “Lied to them?”

Delia shook her head.  “You can choose to see it that way, but Kaitlyn and I were not asked to become these great personages who have become so revered across Thedas.  We have to think about our futures.  Kaitlyn has managed to find love again, after Anders betrayed her.  I’m expecting for Sebastian to finally propose and then if she becomes Princess of Starkhaven, then she’ll have even more influence.  I don’t want to be a Warden, I never have.  I wanted to stay in the Circle and be close to Cullen forever.  I was fine with us never truly being together, just as long as I had him with me.  But now, we have a chance to actually be together.  I’m not going to let him go.”

“This is a lot to take in,” the elf sighed, looking towards the horizon.  “Are you saying that I could do the same with the Inquisition?”

“I’m saying you should do this with the Inquisition.  You’ve already made the decision to downsize and to become a more peaceable organization.  However, this will focus your intent on finding Solas, not just to bring him to justice but for you to simply have him near again.”  Delia rested a hand on Mera’s arm, feeling the underlying tension there.

“I’m not saying that you have to do anything, Mera.  The decision is yours.  You have so much at your disposal here that it would be a shame to waste it.”

Mera nodded, but Delia figured that she wasn’t going to get anything out of the Inquisitor today.  In any event, she didn’t expect the young woman to agree with her or even set out on the same path that Delia and Kaitlyn had done.  But there was a way to have purpose in a life that you never wanted.

“I’ll be staying at Skyhold for another week, and then I’ll begin my travels again.  If you need anything, you may feel free to speak to me.”

Not bothering to let Mera reply, Delia backed out off the balcony and hastily made her way to Cullen’s office.  She took the short cut through what used to be Solas’s sanctuary, instead of the more formal exit through the front.  She opened the door and found Cullen sitting at his desk, pouring over some paper work.  It was hard to compare him to the templar she once knew.  That person was more of a boy just as she was more of a girl then, in comparison to the man she saw now.  While he didn’t have the scars than that he bore now, that past shaped him into the person he was now.  A person that she loved.

“Finished?”  Cullen asked, standing up when she saw him enter.

“For now,” Delia whispered, coming to stand next to him.  She felt a bit weary after relaying all of that information to Mera.  Such a story was only meant to be told a few times.  And she always kept her secrets in the Grey Wardens. No one hardly ever knew the real her, what she wanted, where was going, and more importantly where she had been.

Cullen placed his arms around her and Delia fell into his comforting embrace.  He was dressed in simple pants and shirt, and Delia felt tears prick her eyes at how perfectly the two of them fit into each other.  Two halves making a perfect hole.

“What is it?”  Cullen asked.  He moved his hands to her upper arms, almost forcing her to look up at him.  He’d have to have been blind to see the tears pouring down her face.

Maker, he always knew when she was upset.  “I’m just so tired, Cullen.  I’ve spent so long being someone I’m not, doing things I have no heart in.  I’m ready to rest.  To be free.  To be happy.”

She lowered her head and apparently Cullen did as well.  She heard him inhale sharply and she quickly looked back up at him, thinking the lyrium withdrawal was making another attack on him. But his eyes weren’t on her, and they didn’t appear to be in pain.  His eyes were filled with shock and hurt and almost disappointment, and they were focused on the wrist she’d forgotten to cover when leaving Mera’s room.

“What is that, Delia?”  He asked, almost shoving her away from him.

The Mage Warden-Commander, the Hero of Fereldan, was pushed entirely away and Delia was only left with her empty self.   A woman who had suffered much and who desperately needed the man she loved to listen to her.

“Sit down, Cullen.  I have a tale to tell you.”

~ And that’s it!  Wow it took me forever to write this!  This was almost a week’s worth as I spent a long time figuring out how to start it.  Hope you all enjoyed it!  It is a rough draft, I recognize that and see that, so don’t freak out.  This is the end of Delia’s story, well, for now anyway, and I hope I raised lots of questions about Kaitlyn Hawke and Mera Lavellan.  🙂  What can I say?  It’s what I do!


V-Day Original Character – Viola B. Patricks

Happy Single’s Awareness Day!  Galentine’s Day!  Valentine’s Day!  Whatever floats your boat!

I had debated for a while on what to post on this “happy” day, but I knew it was going to be about one of my favorite Harry Potter Post-Golden Trio Original Characters, Ismene or Viola.  Ismene, despite how much I love her, shares my view of Valentine’s Day, so Viola was the best choice.  So, I bring to you, Viola Bernadette Patricks.

Viola was born on February 14th, 1966 to muggle parents Dr. Adrian Patricks and Dr. Vivian Patricks.  She has two brothers, Jameson (5 years older) and Marcus (1 year older), who is married to Patricia and with whom has three children: Danielle (who Vi is the godmother of), Lynette, and Jacob.  Now, I don’t want to turn this into a 50,000 word story on her life, so I’ll sum it up.

She got her letter to Hogwarts at 11, much to the confusement of her family and the extreme dislike of her middle brother Marcus.  All, but Marcus, seemed to understand why strange things happened while Viola was around, and in the end were excited for her and her new school.  Viola started Hogwarts in the year of 1977 and graduated in the year 1984. She had been sorted into Hufflepuff and had followed the traits of that house to a T. She was devoted to her friends, and she worked very hard in all her classes. She took a deep interest in Herbology and Potions, which in the long run came to know surprise since her parents are both doctors. Viola spent time on the Quidditch Team as Chaser from 2nd to 4th year then Seeker for her last three years, making it to Captain her 7th year.

After graduating Hogwarts, she went straight to University with the intent of someday teaching. She studied diligently there as a student and graduated at the age of 22. After spending five more years doing personal study in herbs and potions, Viola started a teaching position at the Sydney School of Potions Mastery in Sydney, Australia. Before the start of the fall term in 1999, she received news of her mother’s death. She resigned from her job in Australia and returned to England to manage her mother’s estate. She was so distraught that she took a year off from teaching. When the Potions became available to Hogwarts, she was contacted by the Headmaster to come and teach. And after much soul searching decided she was emotionally capable of taking the position.

While teaching at Hogwarts, Viola found herself in a relationship with the new flying instructor Istvan.  I could spend forever writing up their wild and crazy love story, but that’s for another book.

Some quick info about Vi –

Patronus – Squirrel

Amortentia – Vanilla, Cassia, Arabica Coffee

PlayBy – Lauren Graham

Most Memorable Moment at Hogwarts – Turning Severus Snape’s robes pink the day she turned seventeen.  🙂

That’s all for today folks!  Happy Birthday Viola!

– Deanna

OC-tober 10/17

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

OC: Serafina Caldwell

Pairing: OC/Loki

It was strange, this magnetic pull she felt for the man she’d never laid eyes on before.  He felt familiar, like he was someone she’d always seen on her peripheral but never face to face. Yet she knew him, at least she felt like she did.  Despite her friend’s fervant pleas, and relentless pulling on her arm, Sarah wanted to stay.  To allow herself to be kept in the magnetic attraction for a person who could only be classified as a psychopath.  For goodness sake, he had a high ranking man sprawled out on the table with some sort of device lodged into his eye!

Well, whoever he was he called to her like a siren that called a sailor.

“Sera I swear if you don’t come with me right now…!”  Elise yelled at her, and gave her a final tug on her arm.

Sera looked back at Elise and gave her glare but allowed herself to be guided out of the museum.  However, she dared a final look a the stranger and he was looking at her.  Well, at first he looked surprised to see her. As if she was a friend from long ago.  But then he was angry.  It was a raging violent anger that came on so fast that Sera did indeed run as if her very life depended on it.

She darted out of building and towards the street but turned towards an alley when Elise let go of her arm.  It was the crowd, she thought, that caused them to become separated.  Catching her breath, Sera touched a locket that she’d always worn around her neck.  The locket that would never open.  The warm metal instantly calmed her and she dared peek out towards the street.

There he was.  His earthly clothes melting away and being replaced with black, green, and gold leather that gleamed in the evening lantern light.  He stood proud.  regal.  As if addressing people was something he’d done a thousand times.

What was his name?  It was on the tip of her tongue.  Why couldn’t she remember?  More importantly, why did she think she could remember?

OC-tober 10/16

Universe: Harry Potter (wha?  Fanfiction?!)

OC: Lacrimosa Rose Donovan – Goes by Lacria by her friends and Ria by a very select few.  Story takes place end of year 1 of Hogwarts.

Lacria tried not to let the rocking of the train lull her to sleep but it was almost impossible.  She’d never imagined that her first year at Hogwarts would have been filled with so much work.  Granted, she’d enjoyed everything she’d learned…well, History of Magic she could do without, but most of it was rather enjoyable.  She’d even managed to find Professor Mcgonagall’s dry humor to be quite amusing by the time the year was over.

By the time exams rolled around, Lacria was filled with excitement for the summer and fear for the tests.  The letters announcing their grades would be sent their homes during the summer, but Lacria figured that she wouldn’t read the letter until closer to the end of summer. Especially since she wasn’t even going to be in England for most of the summer.

It had been strange, receiving a letter from the set of grandparents who lived in India.  The letter she’d received just before Christmas had been very vague and had risen more questions than had answered.  Lacria had a thousand questions to ask about the mother she never knew, but hoped that they would all be answered during her stay in India.

She smiled, thinking back to the argument that had ensued with her father and her stepmother during the Christmas holiday.  She’d made her case quite well, that she was more of an outcast than an actual member of the family.  Had made a list of reasons why she should be allowed to travel to India, despite the fervent (yet very strange) pleas of her stepmother to stay.

But Lacria had said that she would go to India and there was no changing her mind.  For almost two months she’d be with her family.  Maybe she might actually find a place to belong.  Who knew what they’d teach her?

OC-tober 10/15

Universe: Hadleigh of Varisvaara

OC: Hadleigh

“You’re going to catch a chill sitting next to that open window.”

Hadleigh looked up from her book on electrical manipulation to look at Reshnoa, her teacher, mentor and friend for the past twenty years.

“You’ve been saying that since the first time you caught me up here.  It’s not happened yet.”  She closed the book and looked out the open window.  The winter air was finally slipping down from the Northern Mountains and she tugged her shawl a little closer around her shoulders.

“Ah, but you enjoy tempting Fate.”  Reshnoa approached her and sat down on the window seat.  She easily pulled the book from Hadleigh’s long fingers.  “Doing a little reading before your journey?  You spent most of your life in these books, I didn’t think you’d need to read another word.”

The smile on Hadleigh’s face vanished and she felt hot tears burn her eyes.  She’d completed her training, despite her late arrival.  She was now deemed “able” to go out into the world and wouldn’t worry the world about being unable to control her abilities.

“The books are the closest thing I had to friends since I got here.  Not that anyone has been mean or anything, in truth everyone here has been so nice, and I’ve enjoyed  teaching the children as well.” She stopped, realizing that she was rambling.  She leaned her head back and rested it on the dark wood paneling.  The sun was beginning to set and eerie shadows were being thrown over the mountains.

“Your knowledge will serve you well in the coming days.  Where do you think you’ll go?”

“Varisvaara,” she answered without hesitation.  She smiled and touched the locket she wore around her neck.  “They won’t recognize me now and I think that place would be as good as any.”

“Your people were fairly against magic, if I recall.  It’s the reason you were sent here in the first place.”

The young mage rolled her eyes and waved her hand in dismissal of her mentor’s words.  “My step-mother didn’t approve of me mingling with her two daughters.  I’ll meet with the Viscount when I first arrive and let him know I’ve returned, but that’ll be it.”

Reshnoa smiled, seeing the determination in her young charge’s face.  “You’ll write to us when you’re settled?”

Hadleigh laughed.  “Of course.”  She embraced her teacher, tears shining in her eyes.  She did have her own reasons for going home, but she was going to miss the life she’d built for herself here.  She’d been free and able to live as she pleased.  No one had judged her.  No one had questioned her.  It was going to be hard to leave all of this….but she had to.

OC-tober 10/14

Universe:  The Prince’s Flowe(an original work by yours truly)

OC: Prince Daniel, The King, Ms. Ivy, and Caroline

“Father? Who is that girl out there?” Prince Daniel looked out his window to see a girl with unruly red hair walking through the a small garden with someone who could only be presumed as the governess.

“That is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Abrams. I believe her name is Caroline.” The king smiled at the young girl who couldn’t be a day over eight for she was quite petite.

“Why didn’t we get to see her?” Daniel looked at his father with curious eyes. “I thought I was supposed to see all of the families? I’ve seen everyone else’s children.”

Henry tried to supress a smile but failed. “Well, they were all closer to your own age. You’re fifteen, Daniel…some archaic families believe that’s close to marrying age.”

Daniel’s face turned to one of disgust. “That’s ridiculous, Dad.”

“That may be so, but it is still true. Would you like Carson to stop the car so that you can see her?”

The young prince thought for a minute and then nodded. “I can’t see the harm in it.”

The car was instantly stopped and the young prince stepped out of the car making his way to the pair in the garden. He didn’t know what possessed him to meet the girl, perhaps it came from the desire to talk with someone who was younger than him as opposed to older or nearer his own age.

“Ms. Ivy? What is this called?” The child had picked up a flower and held it up for her companion to see.

“That is called a daffodil, Caroline. They are meant to represent faith, honesty, and truth. They are vigiliant for they come every spring, even after the harshest of winters.” The governess had knelt down next to Caroline and helped her examine the petals, the color, as well as the stem.

Caroline laughed and turned around to pick another flower when she spotted him. “Ms. Ivy…” she whispered, pointing to Prince Daniel.

The governess looked up and smiled at the prince. She stood up and dropped a respectable curtsy before turning her attention to Caroline. “It’s rude to point, child.” She whispered something in her ear before pushing the little girl forward. She walked towards him and then dropped a curtsy of her own.

“Hello, Your Highness. I’m pleased to meet you.”

The prince bowed as well finding her to be quite intriguing. “You must be Caroline, right?”

The little girl nodded. “Yes Your Highness. This is my governess Ms. Ivy.” Caroline looked back at her teacher. “We’ve been having a science lesson, Your Highness.”

“I see. What have you been learning about?” Prince Daniel situated himself on one of the garden benches.

“Flowers today. Ms. Ivy has been teaching me about how flowers grow and what flowers mean.”

“What’s been your favorite so far?”

The young girl’s face became one of pure concentration. “I guess they’re all my favorite because they are all so pretty.” She giggled and did a little dance.

“What about you? Do you have a favorite?”

In truth, Prince Daniel did and he wondered if this garden would have one. “It would have to be purple lilac.”

“We have those over here, Your Highness.” Ms. Ivy gestured to the flowers he had just mentioned.

The young monarch smiled and rose to his feet allowing the ten year old to guide him along. “Why are they your favorite?” She asked as she knelt down to look at the purple blossoms.

“It too is a symbol of spring.” He plucked a blossom and handed it to the young girl. “They represent a…beginning of sorts.”

Caroline looked at him in confusion and Prince Daniel apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good with explaning things.”
The child nodded and smiled. “Don’t push yourself,” she said, looking up at him. “That’s what Ms. Ivy always says. I get very excited sometimes and want to say everything I want at once and nothing sensible comes out.” She stood up and brushed the dirt off her dress and held the purple flowers closer to her heart.

The prince chuckled and rose to his feet. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Caroline.”

She nodded and dropped a curtsy. “And you, Your Highness. You’ll make a great king someday.”

Caroline watched as the prince bowed to her and to her governess. He made his way back to his car and they drove out of sight. “I never expected to see the Prince today, Ms. Ivy!”

“Yes…quite unexpected.”

Caroline looked down at the purple lilac in her hands. “I think I’m ready to continue my lessons now, Ms. Ivy. I have a lot of learning to do.”

“Really? What are you preparing for?”

Caroline smiled and pressed the flowers to her cheek. “I’m going to marry a prince one day, Ms. Ivy!”

OC-tober 10/13

Universe: Where Phantoms Sleep (an Harry Potter RPG website dedicated to a universe filled with post Golden Trio characters.  Find another character from that website here.)

OC: Ismene Daria Muse Crest Benedict

Note: Taken from 7th year not long after they returned from winter holiday.  That would make Ismene roughly 20?  21?  I think….

How do you tell a person that you had once loved that you’re sorry?

It was a question that Ismene had written down in her journal many times but had never actually finished answering.  Most often, she wasn’t ready to answer that question so she’d just scribbled it out and wrote about something else.  Usually the weather, or exams, or what she ate that day.  Despite the fact that the latter always brought good remarks from Ismene’s doctor, it soon became apparent that Ismene was intentionally avoiding the elephant in the room.

And in all honesty, how did she tell Sabriel that she was sorry?  Actually “sorry” was a poor word for what she truly felt after the whole debacle of last term.  Would she ever really get to talk to him about it?  Madame Waffle certainly didn’t think now was the time, but she encouraged Ismene to write down ideas or thoughts about the matter as they came to her and they’d discuss them when her meetings came.

She couldn’t start with justifying herself, that would be wrong.  However her father and siblings treated her, it gave her no right to always paint people with the same brush.  But her development years had been fueled with that kind of life, of wanting to be loved only to be shunned over a choice she had no say in.

“Personally, I can’t say I’m sorry and yes that does sound shallow and clings to those Slytherin tendencies which I’ve tried to purge from my system.”  Ismene stared out at her curtains, trying to find away to answer the question aloud hoping it would inspire her.

“But let’s face the facts.  You were right and I was wrong.  Heaven help us all a Gryffindor was wrong.  We can’t get any deeper into it than that at the current moment because everyone’s afraid I’m going to go off the deep end at any moment.”  She swung her legs over the side of her bed and began pacing the dormitory.

“But I am sorry for being such a witch to you last term and for not listening to you and for choosing to stay away when I finally learned the truth and for calling you a liar and several other things that I dare not repeat in polite company.”

She took a breath and thought for  a moment.  That’s a lot of “I’s, Miss Crest.  Ismene could almost here Madame Waffle talking to her.  Could she really lay blame at his door?  Could she?  Should she?  She took another look around.  No one was here.  If Sabriel was here, what would she say?

“You never listened,” Ismene said aloud, finding strange comfort that it had actually been spoken.  “I tried to come to you with my concerns about you teaching her and it fell on deaf ears.  Later, I tried to apologize.  I came after you several times, but each time you just turned me away and didn’t bother to listen, let alone see me!”  Ismene had begun pacing the floor ranting off half-truths and lies that she knew she’d never say to him, but it felt good to lay the blame at someone else’s door for once.

“And furthermore…!”  She whirled around and had her finger pointed as if she was actually addressing someone, and she stopped in her tracks.  Shiloh, one of her dormmates, was standing there in the doorway.

“Um…am I interrupting?”  The blonde haired girl looked around the room, checking to see if anyone else was in the room.

Ismene blushed scarlet before falling backwards on her bed, sighing in frustration.

OC-tober 10/10

Universe:  The Phantom of the Opera (a 2nd POTO fanfic titled: The True Angel)

OC: Mysty (Play by – Nastya Zhidkova)

Note: Considering POTO turned 30 yesterday, I thought this would be fitting.

“Oh, Mysty you cannot be serious!”  Christine begged of her friend.

Mysty turned the stem of her wineglass in her fingertips, staring into the red liquid as if it could whisper secrets to her.  How could she explain that after nine years of practically raising Gustave, seeing Raoul nearly run the family into ruin, and watching Christine regret a decision she made a decade ago…she had to leave?  The pain of this house, despite the little Vicomte’s rambunctious behavior, was too much.  She still walked by the Opera House on a daily basis which didn’t help matters.  Mysty herself still carried a torch for one who could never be hers, and it was impossible to know where Madame Giry had sent him.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to find my own life, Christine.”  Mysty sat the glass down, not bothering to sip the liquid.  “I’ve trespassed here long enough.”

“But who will look after Gustave?”  Christine pleaded, as if trying to find someway to convince her friend to stay.

“I’ll help you find an adequate replacement.  But in a month I’m leaving.”  She tried to keep her tone resolute and free from the resentment she held towards Christine that, while she did love her son, she didn’t give him the attention he deserved.  That was Mysty’s doing.

“Where will you go?”  The question came from Raoul who had finished several glasses of wine before the third course had been brought out.

“America,” she replied, holding her ground.  The cries from Christine were filled with shock and hurt but she couldn’t waver.  Paris held too much pain and she had to move on or forever live in the past.  “There’s apparently a place, Coney Island, which is perfect for someone like me.”  She fingered her white locks, secured back with a dark red ribbon.  It matched the red gown she wore perfectly.

She could see that Raoul wasn’t going to argue but Christine was going to take some convincing.  That would happen before the month was over.  But first, she had someone far more important to talk to.

“If you’ll excuse me, the little Vicomte and I need to have a talk.”  She quickly rose from the table, not taking offence when Raoul didn’t stand, and exited the dining room.  As she walked away from the room and made her way towards the stairs, she could hear Christine pleading with Raoul to find a way to make their long-time friend stay.  But it was no use.  Mysty had made up her mind and it was long past time to go and she needed her independence again.  Frederick had left her a nice sum after his death, despite the fact that their marriage had been so short.  That had been in a bank gaining interest as she had excepted payment from the de Chagny’s for looking after Gustave and she had worked for the Opera Populaire before the fire.  So, she wold be able to live quite nicely in America as her needs were always modest.

But it was Gustave that she would miss.  She hated leaving him, fearing that in the end he’d see her departure as something he had done.  He was the bright light in her universe and she loved him unconditionally seeing so much in him.  She’d been his playmate, nurse, friend, and teacher over the course of his few years and she hated that attachment to come to an end.  But it had to.  Her heart had yet to fully heal after Erik and staying would only serve as a reminder.

She opened the little boy’s room, finding him asleep in a chair curled up with his favorite book.  She walked over to him, and picked him up.  He instantly turned to her and she sat down in the rocking chair.  The news could wait til morning.  For now, she was content to hold him and wish for a life she feared she would never have.  A love that would never be hers.

OC-tober 10/9

Universe:  Once Upon A Time (yep! another fanfiction!)

OC: Katarina Adara Thusia (I had a fascination for the letter “A” apparently.  But in all honesty her name translates to “pure, beautiful, sacrifice.” Very fitting concerning her story.)

“You must understand what you are asking, child.”

Kate looked up from the pool of water to stare at the aged God before her.  Chronos very rarely let anyone view the great expanse of time, and even more rare was anyone allowed to follow a certain person’s path.  But he had called to her and she had followed.  She needed to know what happened to the man that she loved, despite the fact that she knew it would result in his death.  What caused her great surprise was that he didn’t die.  He lived for an expanse of well over 300 years but those centuries could hardly be called a life.  The reality she’d seen before her would lead to the destruction of a mighty people and the great gift they’d been given.

Chronos had warned her before the question had even left her lips.  She’d seen the turning point and the reality of what caused the man she loved to start down a dangerous path.  Even though correcting the path would still result in her not being in his life…it had to be done.  And there were consequences.  Meddling with time could have disastrous effects if left to misuse.  But it was possible wasn’t it?  She could approach Zeus with what she’d seen and make a case for her to return to the land of mortals…even if for a time.  But Zeus would ask for something in return.  The proposed arranged marriage nipped at the back of her mind and she sighed.  It was the only thing she could offer…but if her plan worked out she could easily spend the rest of eternity serving Persephone then married to God who would never make her happy.

“I cannot see what would happen, can I?”  She looked at the aged deity.  It was hard to gauge his age but she’d heard that it was well into the thousands.  He didn’t appear fragile…more like wise, with his long white hair and beard and his dark blue Grecian robes.

He shook his head and waved a hand over the pool of water she’d been staring into.  She said a mental goodbye to the brown eyes she’d fell in love with as the man before her disappeared from view.

“I can say that your plan, while admirable, will have consequences.”

“I’m changing time, Chronos.”  Kate rose to her feet, and dusted off her white gown, the bangles around her wrist jingling in the silence.  “Of course there will be consequences.  But I cannot let the mortals below us destroy themselves in such senseless chaos.”

The clouds of grey parted behind her and she could see the familiar grounds of Mount Helicon beckoning to her.  The green lands were lush and covered with small flowers.  The mountains in the distance looked purple and were framed with fluffy clouds and backed with a clear blue sky.

“Tread carefully, Katarina.  Your destiny was decided long ago.  To tempt the Fates…”

“I understand,” Kate whispered, when it was clear Chronos wasn’t going to finish his warning.  She stepped through the portal, her feet landing on the cool grass and the warm breeze caressing her skin.  She turned slightly, and cast one final look a the one of the most powerful Gods in all of Olympus.  He raised his hand in a parting gesture which she returned.  As soon as he had disappeared from view, she knelt to the ground.  Her mind was frantic with ideas for how she could save those people.  But despite all of her planning, and all of her worrying, there was one name and one thought that never left her.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she whispered, raising her head to stare out to the horizon.  She wanted to laugh.  She wanted to cry.  She wanted to run and shout for joy because she’d finally done it.  She’d finally found a way.  “I’m coming.  I’m coming back for you.”

OC-tober 10/8

Universe: Labyrinth

Pairing: OC/Jareth

OC: Emily

Emily stood beneath a black umbrella watching as her beloved mother was slowly lowered into the dark cold earth. The rain fell heavily and it disguised the tears that fell unchecked down her face. The priest said a few words about how life did not end with death, but it all fell unheard on her. All she could think about was how she would never see her mother’s smiling face, or hear her laugh echoing through their home. Sarah, the newest addition to the household, let out an ear piercing scream and Emily rolled her eyes. Leave it to now for the baby to make herself known and to have all the attention turned on her. She’d been doing that since the day she was born, almost a year ago.

Father tried to shush the baby but it was obvious that she was having none of it. Emily clutched a story that her mother had always read to her when she’d had a particular bad day. It was entitled Labyrinth and a certain phrase came to mind as Emily gave her sister a hard stare. Not that the baby would have any recollection of this in five minutes, but it did give her some sort of satisfaction.

The mourners soon left, and Father went about putting Sarah into her car seat. Emily just stood there, staring at her mother’s grave. She’d been killed in an auto accident and she felt cheated and wronged at not being able to say goodbye. She took her time doing so, despite the fact that she was being ushered into the car and driven away. She said nothing to her father during the car ride home, or when she reached the sanctity of her bedroom. Not even bothering to take off her black dress, she climbed up into her bed and opened up Labyrinth to her favorite part.

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City. To take back the child that you have stolen. Though my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom is as great…” A clap of thunder sounded and the lights in her room flickered. She shrieked and dove under her covers. She closed her eyes, the last sentence falling from her lips as pure memory as opposed to anything else. “You have no power over me.”

A resounding knock came from her door. “Em, I’m going out back for a few minutes. Sarah is down for a nap, but if she needs anything just come and get me.”

Emily chose not to answer. What was she, some babysitter? Instead, she went back to reading, and started the book over. Memories of late nights sitting up with her mother as they read this came back afresh and tears pricked her eyes. She looked up and gave her room a once over. She and her mother had redecorated this room when they had gotten the news that there would be a new addition to the family. Mother hadn’t wanted her to feel excluded and had wanted her to know how much she still loved her. The room was painted a soft blue, and gave off the impression that a young lady lived in here. Everything was classic looking from the elegant furniture to the clothes that hung in the closet.

Sarah’s crying interrupted Emily’s perusal of her room and she grimaced. Of course she’d wake up when Emily wanted some alone time. But she was not going to get up and take care of her. That wasn’t her responsibility. Come to think of it, it would have all been better if Sarah had never been born. If she’d not been born, she wouldn’t have gotten sick last week, and then Mama would not have needed to go to the pharmacy to get medicine and she wouldn’t have died in that accident.

Feeling tired from all of her own tears, Emily laid down and closed her eyes. Sarah’s crying could still be heard but just before sleep took her, she said only one thing. “I wish the goblins wouldcome and take you away…right now.”

Emily sat up in her bed and whipped the covers off. She ran down the hall to the master bedroom where Sarah’s crib was. Her heart raced as she flipped on the light and threw back the covers. There Sarah was, sleeping quietly as if nothing had happened. Emily fell to her knees wondering what exactly had happened. There was no way that any of that could have been real. Could it? The Goblin King, the Bog of Stench…it was all just a vivid dream brought on by the memory of her mother and that story she had been reading. Right?