Once upon a time, there lived a princess. She grew up, dreaming of true love, with hope in her heart. One day, she met a prince, and she thought that she must have been in love. He was so confident and wonderful! He took her away, and locked her in a tower.
For a time, the princess was happy in her tower. She felt safe and protected. Oh how the prince must love me, she thought, for he cannot bear to see me come to harm, and so he keeps me locked away safe in this tower! And she was happy.
A year passed, and the prince threatened to leave the princess, throw her from the tower. The princess was terrified, and horribly saddened. She spent more and more time outside the tower, and just as she was getting used to being out in the world alone again, the prince begged her to come back. Thinking it was destiny that had pulled her back to the prince, she agreed, and back to the tower she went, locked away from the world, and safe.
Another year rolled by. The princess, and the tower, were moved to a new kingdom with the prince. It was beautiful there, and the princess began to long for the things outside her tower. Yet the prince kept her there. Thinking the prince knew best, and that he was only trying to protect her, she stayed.
It was the middle of the princess's third year locked in the tower when she got a message that her father had gone missing. The princess's mother was devastated, as was her younger sister. But the princess could do nothing to help her grieving family. The kingdom the prince had moved her to needed her so badly, that were she to leave, even just for a day, the kingdom would crumble, and the princess would be held responsible. She wrote to her mother and sister constantly, reassuring them that they were better off, that the wounds would heal in time. Oh, how she longed to leave the tower.
The princess felt as though she were wilting, locked away. The prince had broken her. He had made her believe that she was nothing with him and the protection his tower provided her. Then one day, the prince brought another princess to the tower. The princess was surprised and hurt. The prince did not hide the second princess, but the princess wondered why she wasn't enough for him. It wasn't until that moment, when he'd made her truly feel worthless, that she realized she was better than this.
She knew she had to escape from the tower.
Leaning from her window, she met a young handsome man. He claimed he was a knight, and he made the princess smile. She had not smiled for quite some time. He was going to help her from the tower, he had promised. She waited for him. Days passed, weeks passed, and soon it had been over a month, and the princess had not heard from her knight. He had abandoned her. She wept for herself then, thinking the worst of herself, yet knowing she did not belong in this tower.
Another month went by. The prince had taken the second princess away, but she had written the princess, claiming to have escaped. The princess took a deep breath and lept from the tower, leaving behind only a note for the prince, telling him she no longer loved him, and wasn't sure she really ever did.
It was a surprise to the princess to find that the leap from the tower was nothing to be afraid of. She landed in a warm pool and swam for some time before leaving the water behind. A smile had come to rest on her lips as she walked freely through the kingdom, making friends. One night, as she was spending time with her new friends, the prince came to her, begging her to speak with him. Being the kind-hearted soul she was, she obliged. The prince tried to convince her she had made a mistake, that in a few months time, she should return to the tower - just to be sure. Seeing no harm in the deal, the princess agreed and sent the weeping prince on his way.
Months passed. The princess was finally beginning to feel good about herself. She had even gone dancing with a man from the village. But, as she promised, she returned to the tower. The prince had paintings of other princesses hanging on the walls. He told her that he was over her. Really, he was just trying to make her jealous. The princess did not fall for the prince's trap, however. The next morning, she left, happier than even the day before.
The man from the village brought her a rose, asked her with a hand-written note to be his. The princess, feeling nothing for his kind man, turned him down. She had decided she wasn't ready to belong to someone again. But she didn't see the harm in sharing a dinner here and there with a man who fancied her.
That was when she met the knighted prince. She had dinner with him just once, but everything felt different. It was just so wonderful, and she felt like she could have spent all night just talking about nothing, if he had only stayed. None of the others gave her the same feeling. In fact, they were all rather dull in comparison.
The princess followed the knighted prince as he smiled down at her from atop his horse. He was everything she had ever dreamed of. They began seeing one another in secret. It was nearly three months before they announced their engagement to the kingdom, but in those three months, the princess had fallen quite deeply in love with the knighted prince. She imagined what their wedding would be like, and hoped it would come quickly.
The princess was happy with the knighted prince. He was kind to her, and so supportive. She began to feel like she was valuable, and was able to be happy. Really, truly happy. It didn't matter if he were by her side at all times, as long as he loved her, she knew she would be the happiest princess in the world. Her confidence was building, and she even went out and did things she never thought she'd be able to. She had even gotten a position in a small kingdom supporting the ruler, and all this while her knighted prince was away for three long months.
It felt like it had been forever when he returned. The princess was so glad to see him, and she asked him to stay the night with her. They talked quite a bit, and the princess asked if he would be returning to the land of snow - where he had been for those three months - at the end of the next harvest. The knighted prince explained that he hoped he would be asked to return, and permanently, but he did not want the princess to follow him. The princess felt her heart shatter. The confidence she had been building up, the happiness she'd learned to cultivate in herself withered. She couldn't understand why he would not want her to go with him, but he refused to talk more on it.
Months more passed, and the princess could only feel herself growing sadder and sadder. She missed the person she had been when she'd met her knighted prince - so warm, kind, and optimistic! But she didn't know how to fix herself. The knighted prince spent less and less time with her, and she began to wonder if he loved her at all.
Finally, the harvest came to an end. The knighted prince had been called to a hearing in the land of snow, and the princess knew he was going to leave her behind. She sobbed, and he held her. Finally, she turned to him, asking him why? Why didn't he want her to go with him? That was when he'd made it very clear that he did not love her. He never had.
The princess felt her heart shatter then. Of all the terrible luck she could have had, she had never expected this. She wondered why he had spent so long courting her if he did not love her. He claimed it was hope - hope that he would love her as deeply as she loved him. And yet, he did not. The princess felt her optimism draining away, and wondered if she were unlovable. If her knighted prince could not love her, then who could?
A month passed, and the knighted prince spent a lot of time with the princess. She knew it was meant as a parting, but then the knighted prince heard from the land of snow that they had found someone better suited to the position. He was devastated, and the princess did all she could to console him despite how miserable she felt herself.
The days dragged into weeks then, and still the knighted prince did not break off his ties with the princess. It was beginning to be very painful for her, watching him from afar, watching him avoid spending time with her. All she really wanted was one last touch, one last kiss, one last tender moment, but he would not oblige her.
Finally, she asked him to dinner, and it was there that she told him he did not need to worry about her any longer; that she was leaving. She said she hoped he'd be happier this way, and perhaps they could still be friends.
With a broken and heavy heart, the princess returned to her home, alone. There, she sat for days, crying and screaming, wishing for nothing but the knighted prince's love, and knowing it would never be hers.
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Sunday, May 08, 2016
Messy Fairy Tale
"What are you?"
The voice caught Ronaldo by surprise. He had been quite sure he was alone; Thursdays were always his days to be alone. Papa always worked late on Thursdays, and Mum started her night shift early, which meant Ronaldo was left home alone. It wasn't that he liked the solitude, exactly, but he liked being able to do whatever he wanted, no adults to tell him he couldn't.
Today, Ronaldo had decided to go on an adventure in the woods behind the old house his parents owned. After packing his Princess Jasmine backpack with the essentials - crackers, a bottle of milk, a jump rope, a box of crayons, and an extra pair of socks for just in case - Ronaldo had put on his shoes and ventured out into the warm almost-summer air.
He had been sitting on a rather large rock he'd come across in an otherwise strangely clear area of the woods when he'd heard the voice. It wasn't just the voice that had caught him off guard, but the question. What kind of question was "what are you?" anyways? With a frown on his face, Ronaldo looked around the clearing, trying to find the source of the voice. He didn't see anyone, and his heart beat a little faster in his chest.
"Can't'cha talk?"
If it had only spoken once, Ronaldo might have chalked it up to being alone, but whatever was out there had spoken a second time. The boy was terrified, and he clutched his backpack to his chest. Whipping his head from side to side, he tried to spot whoever was talking to him. He must have looked ridiculous, because whoever - or whatever - it was started laughing at him. Whatever it was, it sounded like a girl, and that made Ronaldo feel just a little bit worse. Girls were scary.
Maybe, Ronaldo thought, if he just sat there doing nothing, whoever - or whatever - it was would get bored and leave him alone. Besides, hadn't his parents always taught him not to talk to strangers? He felt that went doubly for invisible strangers.
"Well, if ya can't talk...maybe if you act it out. Just sorta wave yer arms in the air when I get it right - you got arms, don't'cha?"
Ronaldo wasn't sure he could act out anything that would get someone to guess "boy." He was always the worst at Charades and preferred not to play. So he just kept sitting there, still as he could manage.
"Goblin! Imp! Dwarf! Brownie! Cyclops! No, wait - they only got one eye."
"I-I'm a...a boy." Ronaldo found he was speaking before he even realized he'd decided to say anything.
"A boy? Never hearda that before. That a type of Gnome?"
It worried Ronaldo that he still had no idea where the voice was coming from. Grasping his backpack tighter still, he peered carefully around the clearing, looking for the source. He thought he saw something moving behind one of the trees off to his right, but he couldn't be sure - it was a little ways away.
"You're kinda boring, aren't'cha? And here I was, thinkin' you were tryin' ta go on an adventure or somethin', what with that sack you got."
An adventure? That certainly caught Ronaldo's attention. He sat up a little straighter and looked for the source of the voice a little harder. He definitely wanted to go on an adventure - that had been the whole reason for coming out into the woods in the first place, after all. That was when he saw it: the source of the voice. Sitting on a barren branch of a tree right in front of him was a tiny girl - couldn't have been more than seven inches tall. Her skin was a sickly looking yellowy-green color, but Ronaldo decided it made her look like a leaf.
Whatever she was, she seemed to realize that Ronaldo had spotted her. She fluttered down off the dead branch, spreading wings that looked like torn leaves, fresh from a tree in the middle of spring, and she hovered right in front of the boy's nose. Ronaldo could see now that her eyes were completely black, and her teeth pointed. Up close, her appearance frightened him, and he could feel himself trying to draw back, away from whatever she was.
The thing rolled her eyes - or she seemed like she did, anyways - and put her tiny hands on her tiny hips. "I ain't gonna hurt'cha." The way her voice cut through the air, she almost sounded offended. "Don't'chu know what I am?" Ronaldo shook his head slowly, afraid to make a sudden movement.
"I'm a fairy, you idiot!"
A fairy? Ronaldo had never really believed fairies existed, and if he had, he never would have imagined them looking like this thing. Before giving himself time to think or react, Ronaldo had lifted his own hand away from the safety of his backpack and jabbed at the fairy with his forefinger. "Watch it!" The fairy yelped as she darted to the side, avoiding the finger. She did not looked pleased about the jab.
Drawing his hand back quickly, Ronaldo eyed the fairy for a little while longer. She was interesting to watch, moving the way a fly might, zig-zagging through the air. She darted this way and that, moving towards a path Ronaldo had not noticed before. It was set perfectly between the two tallest trees surrounding the clearing, their branches bent together, giving the path a natural-looking doorway. Something about it felt magical, and Ronaldo could hardly take his eyes off of it now that he saw it.
"You comin' or not?"
Nodding carefully, Ronaldo put his Princess Jasmine backpack on his back and carefully climbed down off the rock, his eyes wide with wonder as he stepped closer to the doorway. As he did so, it seemed to shimmer, the way a moth's wing might. He stood staring at the magical doorway, in awe. The fairy hovered in front of his face once again, a look of annoyance on her leafy face.
Looking almost ashamed, Ronaldo stepped through the shimmer. As he did so, the world around him seemed to change. The forest melted away, a metallic sea of silver grass waved at him. He heard himself gasp, felt himself whip around to look for the doorway. It was gone.
"Where are we?" Ronaldo's voice had a quiver of fear to it. The fairy stuck her miniature face in his, looking rather confused. "What'd'ya mean 'Where are we?'!? Yer a fay, aren't'cha?" Ronaldo carefully shook his head. He didn't even know what that meant. "No?! I coulda sworn they told me yer the kid of Morgan..." The fairy flew in her zig-zags, and Ronaldo was sure he heard her muttering something about "nabbing the wrong kid." Looking at the sea of shiny grass around him, Ronaldo thought for a moment.
"What's yer name, kid?"
"Ronaldo."
"Ronaldo? What kinda name is that for a- nevermind. Yer mum, what's'er name?"
"Morgan?"
"Is she Morgan Fay? Is yer mum Morgan Fay?"
"N-no? She's, er, Morgan Pellichero... She's got the same name as me and Papa." The fairy fluttered away, clearly frustrated. Ronaldo stood there, looking worried, wondering how he was going to get home. "'Scuse me, er, Ms. Fairy?"
Ronaldo's word drew and angry glare from the leafy fairy. "It's Uri." The fairy's voice showed more than a little irritation. She continued on her zig-zagging path, back and forth, muttering angrily to herself about something Ronaldo didn't understand. She stopped suddenly, turning to look at Ronaldo with an almost suspicious expression. "What'd'ya want?"
"It's just... How do I get home?"
Uri laughed at the question, and it was like the chiming of delicate bells. She dropped a few feet in the air, having laughed so hard she forgot to keep her wings going. "Yer a hoot, Kid!" Ronaldo wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel worried or afraid at her response. Did that mean he wouldn't be going home? Ever? He felt the heat rise up in his cheeks, the tears were already threatening to fall. The first tear slipped over his cheek.
Uri stopped laughing, hovered mid-air, her mouth ajar, as she stared. "Oh no. Don't cry, Kid..." It was obvious she didn't know what to do with a crying kid. "It's just... y'know... There's this thing we gotta do! A....adventure! Yea!"
Ronaldo sniffled and wiped the tears off his cheeks. "An adventure?" That sounded...well, fun. It was what he'd been hoping for all along, even if he hadn't really known it would be an adventure as big as this was turning out to be.
"Yea, Kid. C'mon. We gotta go meet the Queen of Morterre or whatever."
"REALLY?!" His excitement was nearly tangible. Uri was not anywhere near as excited about it as Ronaldo was.
"Er...yea, really. Just, er, follow me, awright?"
"Alright!" Ronaldo punched the air in his excitement, afterwards looking slightly abashed that he'd done such a silly thing - people didn't actually do that in real life. Uri - somehow - rolled her eyes again before fluttering away and back. "Well, c'mon, then."
Ronaldo hurried after the fairy, a grin on his face, the tears forgotten. His Princess Jasmine backpack leaped for joy as Ronaldo ran through the grass. It was softer than he thought it would have been - it felt like a puppy's fur, and the boy let his hand graze the top of the grass as he ran.
Before too long, Ronaldo and Uri came to a small stream. It was just too barely too wide to jump across. Uri, of course, had no problem flying straight across the water. Ronaldo on the other hand frowned, trying to judge how deep the water was. Uri shouted something from across the stream, but Ronaldo hadn't heard her. He decided to take off his shoes and wade through the water. The current didn't seem like it would be strong enough to drag him down, so with a smile on his face, he did just that.
As soon as Ronaldo stepped in the water, though, something grabbed his ankle, and he yelped in terror. Uri flew up to his face and growled, "I told you not to touch the water!"
The hand around Ronaldo's leg was slimy and cold. The boy couldn't bring himself to look down at whatever was holding him hostage, but he wasn't ready for his adventure to end. Whimpering and afraid, he peered downwards, one eye closed. The thing in the water was staring up at Ronaldo with a toothy grin on its face. "Boy. You dare think to cross my waters, Boy?" Ronaldo didn't know how to respond to the creature. He looked around for Uri, but she was nowhere to be seen. Turning his frightened gaze back to the water creature, Ronaldo looked pathetic. "No one crosses my waters without paying the price."
Now Ronaldo was really worried. He didn't have any money! He hadn't even thought to bring his piggy bank with him! This pulse quickened with his breathing. "What can you offer me, boy?" Offer? Nothing! He had nothing!
Then he remembered: his backpack was full of treasures!
Ronaldo pulled the jump rope from his back pack and held it out to the creature. The creature's eyes widened in awe. "You would really part with this, Boy?" Ronaldo nodded quickly, as the creature's slimy hand pulled the jump rope out of the boy's hands. "Thank you. You may pass."
Moving as quickly as he was able, Ronaldo finished crossing the stream. Once he was on the other side, he sat down, panting. After catching his breath, he changed into the dry pair of socks that had been for just in case. The wet ones were put in the water bottle pocket of the back pack, and his shoes were returned to his feet. Feeling ready to continue on his adventure, Ronaldo stood and looked around. He was no longer in the warm silver sea of grass. Instead, he was on the edge of a golden forest. The leaves on the trees looked like they had been forged from gold, copper, and bronze, and they gleamed in the sun. The bark, though, was a soft blue that seemed to move up and down the trunks. It was breath-taking. "Whoa..."
Realizing he was quite alone again, however, Ronaldo called out, "Uri? Uri!?" in a frightened tone.
Uri was not the one who responded to his cry, however. Instead, it was a girl - a girl who looked to be about his age. She jumped down from one of the nearby trees, a basket full of ripe purple fruit in her hand. "Hello."
"Erm...H-hello. I'm...I'm Ronaldo."
"My name is Shansa. Are you lost?"
Ronaldo nodded, glancing around once more for his fairy companion. Turning back to the girl in front of him, he noticed her eyes: They weren't quite normal. The color of them kept shifting from a bright beautiful blue, to a warm welcoming green, to an unearthly violet, occasionally slipping into an angry red. "I...I was with Uri, but I've lost her."
"Uri? I do not know this name." Blinking a few times and tilting her head to one side, she continued, "You are odd. I do not believe you belong here." Her tone worried Ronaldo. He took half a step back. "Oh, do not worry. I do not intend to eat you." Ronaldo felt a pinch of relief. "But I cannot speak for my father, and I do intend to bring you to him." Fear paralyzed the boy, his eyes widening. Shansa took the boy's hand, a wicked grin on her face. "Come with me."
It was very difficult, Ronaldo found, to resist this girl's orders. His legs followed her steps without him willing them to. He whimpered pathetically, looking around, hoping beyond hope that Uri would return and help him. But it seemed he was quite on his own.
"W-wait! Before you...bring me to your father..." Shansa stopped and peered curiously at the boy. "M-maybe I can trade you...er...something? You-you let me go, and I-I'll give you...," he paused as he tried to think of what she might like from his back pack. "I'll give you a bottle of milk!"
Shansa leaned in closer to Ronaldo, eyeing him suspiciously. "Milk? Real milk?" He nodded quickly, as he had with the stream creature. Her eyes narrowed as she demanded, "Show me."
Ronaldo quickly took the bottle of milk from his back pack and offered it to Shansa. The strange girl opened the bottle, tested the milk, and gasped. Looking at Ronaldo with wide eyes and a new respect, she released his hand. "Deal. I will lead you through the woods, avoiding my father. In return, I get this whole bottle of milk." Ronaldo quickly agreed, feeling quite pleased with himself for making such a brilliant trade.
By the time Shansa had led Ronaldo to the other side of the forest, the sun had set on the horizon, lining it with a blanket of rainbow, akin to the colors in her eyes. "I am sorry for treating you poorly, Ronaldo. I do hope you bring more milk the next time you visit." And despite the fear he'd felt at first, Ronaldo decided he rather liked the strange girl.
Turning back towards the horizon, Ronaldo spotted something that looked like a castle. With a smile on his face, he began walking towards it. "Glad you got out, Kid. Sorry I left ya. Had to, though. Fairy business, y'know?" Ronaldo found himself glaring at the source of the voice, even if he secretly was glad that Uri had come back.
"No thanks to you."
"Oooo, yer gettin' gutsy, Kid. Better not talk like that to the Queen!"
Ronaldo looked at the ground. The sand was quite orange, and the boy wasn't sure how he felt about orange sand.
"C'mon, Kid. We gotta get to the palace before the moon rises."
"But why?"
Uri stopped zigging around to land on the boy's shoulder. "Because I said so, that's why. But also 'cause once the moon rises, the doors kinda disappear."
"Oh." Ronaldo nodded and quickened his step.
It really wasn't a long trek to the palace. In fact, it was quite a bit closer than Ronaldo had expected. It was also smaller than he had expected. There was no way a human boy would ever fit in such a small piece of architecture.
"You wait here. I'll get the queen, 'kay?" Ronaldo nodded as he watched Uri fly off to the doors and enter the palace.
It felt like forever, Ronaldo decided as he stood in the sand, waiting for Uri to return with the queen. Humming a song his mother used to sing to him when he would have a nightmare, he sat down in the sand, and the next thing he knew, he was looking at a tiny version of his mother. Expect her skin was the color of spring, she had wings that looked like the petals torn from a budding rose, and a crown on her head. "Mum?"
"No, my dear boy, I am not your mother. But your mother is my daughter." Ronaldo seemed confused. "I had Uri here, one of my most loyal subjects, lure you here to Morterre in hopes of your mother returning here herself." The boy looked at Uri, hurt at the betrayal. She simply shrugged at him nonchalantly.
"But I want to go home!" The queen laughed, and it was a wicked laugh.
"Oh, my sweet child. I cannot let that happen."
Worry was creeping up Ronaldo's legs, reaching for his heart. What was he going to do? What would his parents do when they found he was missing? Would they come looking for him? Panic was tightening its grip on his chest. He had already overcome his fears twice in his journey to this palace. No one was holding him back now but himself. Taking a deep breath, Ronaldo reached out and picked the fairy queen of out the air, holding her tightly in his fist. "Send me home, Grandmother! Or I'll crush you."
And the queen looked genuinely terrified. She looked at Uri for help, but the leafy green fairy shrugged stating, "Yer on yer own with this one. I don't wanna be crushed, yer highness."
The queen glared at the boy with a seething rage that only queens seemed able to really muster. She gnashed her pointed teeth at him as she wriggled, trying to free herself. It wasn't long before she gave up, but Ronaldo was certain that had she taken any longer, his will would have given up on him.
"FINE! I shall release you. On one condition." The queen had a wicked smile on her lips as she spoke, watching the boy. "Your mother must take your place here and stay with me for the rest of eternity."
Ronaldo thought for a moment, and then a moment more. "Alright," he said as he nodded. "Open the door." And the fairy queen opened the shimmering portal that would return Ronaldo to the human world. A bold smile on the boy's face, he ran through it, the queen still grasped tightly in his hand.
"What are you doing! No! RELEASE ME!" But he did not release her. And before she could work her magic and close the door, they were through it.
Ronaldo returned to the same rock he'd been sitting on so long ago. In the distance, he could hear his parents calling his name, and he ran towards the sound, the queen of Morterre still clutched in his sweaty palm.
Emerging from the woods, he ran to his parents, calling for them. The three of them embraced as they collided, smiles and tears on all their cheeks. Until, of course, the fairy queen yelled out, "I DEMAND YOU RETURN TO MORTERRE WITH ME, MORGAN."
"Mother?" Ronaldo's mother looked surprised at the voice. Then with the same surprise on her face, she looked at her son. "I am so sorry I never told you, Ronaldo. I am so glad you're home safe."
The family entered the warm old house, placed the queen in a rather spacious jar, and that was that. They lived quite happily ever after.
Monday, April 11, 2016
Character Development - Arthur Weasley
AU - age 29 - first wizarding war
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Being the middle child is not exactly easy. Everyone seems to think it is, but it's really not. You have to live up to the expectations set by your older siblings while still being a good example for the younger ones. It's really all about balance - finding the line and walking straight along it. Of course you'll probably wobble a bit now and again, but it's something you'll learn to live with. You'll never be the best, but at least you won't be the worst, either. You'll always be right in the middle. Average. It's just who you are.
That was Arthur Weasley's life. It was the life he was born into as the second son of a second son of a second son. All middle children who swore to break the chain of average middle children - should they have that many. They did. None had succeeded, however, in making their middle son feel anything other than, well, average. Of course, little Arthur had no idea that his father might have made such a vow, and in fact, would probably never find out.
For the first four years of his life, Arthur was in his elder brother's shadow, following in his footsteps with a goofy smile on his adorable face. His parents loved them both very much. But just two? It was far from enough children for this Weasley family. Septimus and Cedrella, who had been burnt off the Black family tree for marrying a Weasley, had intended to have at least five children. When Arthur was four, his younger brother was born, but due to some strange complications with the pregnancy, there would be no more Weasley children- or any children for that matter- born of Cedrella. Despite the rather depressing news, Septimus and Cedrella welcomed their third child into their family and their home, glad to have the three they had.
While Septimus and Cedrella loved each of their children, they never seemed to realize what it felt like for Arthur growing up. He had to be more like his big brother, who was showing strong signs of magic at the age of seven; he had to set a good example for his younger brother, always being the one to take the baby's hand and lead him forward. Now, it really wasn't so bad. Arthur had a very loving family, after all. He just tended to get a little bit overshadowed. His elder brother got the praise for doing everything the first time - it was therefore less impressive when Arthur managed it. His younger brother was, well, the baby, which meant he got a lot of extra attention as babies tended to receive. Which left Arthur right in the middle of it all.
Arthur could remember the day his elder brother got his Hogwarts letter nearly perfectly. It had been raining and very grey. Not one of the boys were allowed to go outside. Might catch cold their mother had said. Which meant they only had the option to play indoors for the day. Arthur had been watching the window when the owl came with the letter. He had been almost as excited has his elder brother had been, a wide grin on his face. There had been so much excitement throughout the household that day. The first son of the current generation of Weasleys was about to go off to Hogwarts! There was a trip to London, ice cream, and they even bought an owl! It was so much excitement Arthur was nearly falling asleep on the way home.
It was September first. Arthur was holding the hand of his younger brother on the platform as they waved the eldest off to his first year at Hogwarts. Arthur patted his crying baby brother on the back, promising they'd see the eldest again and not to worry; before long, they'd both be at Hogwarts, too.
Christmas finally came. Arthur's eldest brother came home with stories upon stories upon stories to tell to his two younger brothers who sat, enrapt by his words. He pulled something out of his bag and handed it to the youngest. It was a small wrapped box. He did the same for Arthur. Upon opening the box, wrapping paper strewn about, Arthur found a most curious item. His brother told him it was a "rubber duck" and he had gotten it from his muggle-born friend. Arthur was more than a little fascinated with the item. In fact, one might even have said he'd grown obsessed with it. It was there, in that moment, that Arthur knew he wanted to study muggles, to somehow work between the magical & Muggle worlds. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it yet, but he knew he would get there one day. It was his dream.
Two years passed and all that happened was Arthur's love for all things Muggle growing deeper and deeper. Well, and he got his Hogwarts letter, of course. Now, with his elder brother's hand-me-downs and a wand of his own, Arthur waved goodbye to his family as he stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express. It was even more incredible than he could have imagined. It would be four more years before his youngest brother would get to experience this, but Arthur was still looking forward to that day.
Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Arthur could hardly contain his excitement. His elder brother was no where to be seen, but that wasn't much of a surprise, really, considering the difference in years. The boats, though! Arthur loved the boats. He could recall a commotion coming from one of the other boats, but other than that, it had been perfect, like a dream. The way the lights played on the surface of the pristine lake. It was something Arthur would never forget - a story he would be sure to tell his younger brother, and, eventually, his own children. Arthur wondered how anything could be as amazing and perfect as that boat ride, and honestly, never expect anything to match the wonder he'd felt on the lake that night.
The Sorting Hat had barely touched Arthur's ginger hair before it had shouted out GRYFFINDOR! With a wide grin on his face, Arthur joined the Gryffindor house table - his elder brother was there, cheering the loudest. A few more first years were sorted before Arthur heard the name of the woman he subconsciously decided he was going to marry: Molly Prewett. His jaw dropped, his heart fluttered. He didn't really know it yet - because he was only eleven years old - but he was really in love. She was just so perfect, more so than the boat ride across the lake, and now, now he knew for sure, nothing else would ever be as beautiful.
Arthur tried several times throughout his first year at Hogwarts to talk to Molly, but she never seemed to notice him. Perhaps he was just too quiet, or maybe it was that he was just too...average. But it didn't matter. There were still years ahead of them in which he would be able to finally find the perfect way to talk to her.
Year two, and nothing to show for it. Well, aside from having a bit of a spat with a few other purebloods. The Weasley family were known to be blood traitors. Arthur, as it turns out, felt very strongly about this. He stood up for a couple of his (mostly) new muggle-born friends, and it sure got a bit messy. Luckily, almost no one was around to see it all. Arthur knew that, from that day onwards, he would never give a second thought to blood purity. Sure, he'd been told to treat all wizards equally by his parents, but he had never encountered such venom and bitterness all because of blood, and he knew that the purebloods were wrong. It was a belief that would come to shape much of his later life.
Third year arrived with much excitement from Arthur. This was the year. It had finally come! It was the first year he would be able to take the Muggle Studies class, and he could hardly wait. It was strange, though, because despite his excitement, it still seemed as though he blended into the background, hardly noticed by anyone - save when they needed someone to pick on or cheat off of. He was, after all, still a middle child. Yes, of course he had friends, but he was never special. He didn't seem to stand out in his classes, despite being rather clever, and he certainly didn't stand out in the looks department considering his tall, lanky, gangly appearance. But it really didn't bother him. He was happy with his life, and he knew, eventually, that he would talk to Molly Prewett, and, somehow, win her heart.
Muggle Studies was not quite what Arthur had imagined it would be, but it was amazing nonetheless. He learned a lot more than he might have expected, but that comes with growing up in a pureblooded family, he supposed. In fact, he was fairly certain no one he'd ever known in his entire family had ever really had contact with a real Muggle. Muggle-borns, sure, but not a Muggle. He wondered if he'd ever get the opportunity to meet a Muggle in real life - he had so many questions already! He dug deeper than probably any previous student in the Muggle Studies class, forsaking some of his other classes in order to do so, even. Muggle Studies had captured Arthur's mind. It was all he could think about, and he knew that he would, one way or another, work with Muggles and their interesting culture - whether it be directly or indirectly.
At the start of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Arthur's youngest brother joined Gryffindor. Arthur cheered the loudest - even louder than their eldest brother. It was incredible to be able to be there to answer whatever questions his little brother had. Granted, a majority of them seemed to be asked in secret - the youngest didn't want to look uncool in front of his new classmates. Arthur had simply chuckled to himself before turning back to the Muggle book he was reading - it was about electricity! - and staring over the top of the pages at Molly Prewett, laughing with her friends.
Arthur tried talking to Molly again. He didn't do any better at the age of fourteen than he had at the age of eleven. He knew now, though, that when his heart raced as he thought of her, that it might be love. Then again, maybe it wasn't. One Hogsmeade weekend, Arthur was asked to visit Madam Puddifoot's with a rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was a nice enough girl, and of course Arthur had said yes, but he knew, even from that one little date, that she wasn't the one for him. It only made him yearn for Molly all the more.
It was time for Arthur to study for his O.W.L.s. Boy, was he nervous. He knew he wanted to get into something relating to Muggles, but he had never really taken the time to figure out what sort of field that could be. Wizard-Muggle relations? But that sounded so...stiff. Would he be able to be the same person if that were his career path? This required some serious thinking. And perhaps some serious studying. As long as he got high enough marks in Muggle Studies, and most of the other classes he might need a N.E.W.T. level class for, well... he'd be alright.
Arthur went on a few more dates with the rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was nice, but Arthur felt wrong about it all. He knew he had to put an end to it before she started thinking things were getting serious and got hurt more than she already would be. He made sure to end it gently, away from crowds and the like. But, of course, she was still hurt, still claimed she'd never be able to forgive him.
With sixth year starting, Arthur realized he was running out of time. He needed to get Molly to notice him, to fall for him as completely as he'd already done for her. But the question was how. He still had several classes on his plate, too: charms, potions, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and muggle studies, having just squeaked by on most of them. And yet, somehow, his classes seemed so dull now that time was running out on his Molly problem.
It was the middle of the year when Arthur finally got his chance. There was a party. Molly was there. And thank Marlin for liquid courage, eh? He remembered inhaling deeply, thinking about how he really needed to just...talk to her...and then his memory went blank. Well, until the two of them were in the hallway. Molly was wobbling rather ferociously. She even fell and scraped her knee. Arthur was sorry he hadn't been able to catch her in time. He didn't laugh - that would have been rude - he simply helped her up. The next thing he knew, she had kissed him - was kissing him. And it was everything he had hoped it would be. His heart skipped a beat, it felt like he had wings. He knew that if she were by his side, he could do anything. And as much as he loved that kiss, the taste of her lips, he pulled back shyly, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her walk a bit more steadily. Who knows if she'd really wanted to kiss him or if it had just been the alcohol. Whatever the case, he wouldn't take advantage of her. They walked the grounds for hours that night, just talking. He told her all about his love of Muggles, his family...everything; and he wanted to know every little thing about her, drinking in her every word as though he were dying of thirst. It was four in the morning when they returned to the Gryffindor common room, and Arthur was sure he'd never had a better day at Hogwarts than this one.
The next day was in competition with Arthur's night out with Molly for a long time. The only reason was because Molly was no longer ignoring him. He had done it! The way she waved to him, the smile on her lips... It distracted him for the entire day. It was no use doing his homework - he'd only end up scribbling her name all over the parchment. The next chance he got, he asked if she would go to Hogsmeade with him - to Madam Puddifoot's. He was over the moon when she agreed. If anyone were to ask Arthur, it had been a perfect date. Arthur figured Molly had liked it - and him - well enough since she kept talking to him after the fact. And she didn't seem to mind the nickname he'd come up with for her after the night of the party, either: Mollywobbles.
By the time they were leaving Hogwarts, the threat of war was coming. It loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon. Who knew what could happen tomorrow? The future was being tossed about like a ship in a storm, always uncertain. Arthur had turned to Molly one afternoon when they were having a quiet lunch together during the Christmas holiday, when she had said "Let's elope, Arthur." Despite the surprise, Arthur was more than overjoyed that she would want to marry him. He agreed, and soon after leaving Hogwarts, they ran away together. Of course Arthur wrote to his family later, explaining everything. They weren't upset, really. Rather, they seemed rather excited to meet Molly, and Arthur couldn't wait to introduce her.
Arthur was only twenty years old when his first son was born. William, they named him - Bill for short. He was a beautiful baby boy, and Arthur couldn't have been more proud. He had a good feeling that everything was going to go very well for the family he and Molly were growing. He was working at the Ministry, a junior assistant in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. It was everything he could have dreamed of in a job! And he'd been hired just after he and Molly had eloped. It was perfect timing, too. The signing bonus was enough for them to buy an adorable little home with - The Burrow, they called it - and when little Bill was born, they began adding on to the house - as they would do for years to come with each new child as they needed more and more space.
Charlie was rather unexpected. Not that Arthur minded, of course, as he was looking forward to having a family - a real, and large, family with the love of his life. But two children, and so close together, made things difficult. Arthur found himself spending entirely too much time working in an attempt to make sure ends would meet - that his wife and two wonderful sons - would have all they could ever dream of. Arthur knew Molly needed him, but he also knew he had to provide for her, and he was torn. He never let Molly see the anguish he felt at being away from her so much; instead he always greeted her with love and warmth whenever he made it home.
The next four years were rough, but they evened out. Things were alright in the Weasley household. Arthur was making enough money to support his wife and two sons, himself, and own a home. Things were looking up. Aside from the looming cloud of war rolling in faster and faster. Arthur worried about his family. Would they be safe? He knew his own family had been labeled blood traitors long ago, and with the purists seeming to come out, Arthur was terrified that his family would be in danger. He would spend hours at work, worrying about it all, trying to see a way to protect them while still taking a stand against the purists and their backwards views. With all that weighing him down, the birth of Percy was a welcome distraction. Percy was just as perfect as his two older brothers, but it meant another mouth to feed. Arthur worried that he and Molly had made a mistake bringing another child into the world - this world in particular, one where someone would be thought of as less simply because of who their parents were. Still, Arthur believed his son to be a bright spot in a darkening world, and he was glad he and Molly had made the decision they did.
Two years passed. It was 1977, and the world was dark and full of terrors. Arthur and Molly had been talking about having another child - she really wanted a daughter, and who was he to deny her? Arthur had been in bed beside a sleeping Molly, trying to figure out their budget for the next baby, when the owl came. His parents had been murdered. They weren't sure who had done it, but Arthur had his suspicions considering the rising tensions between the purists and, well, everyone else. Arthur had never felt so infuriated in his entire life. First, they - whoever they really were - were creating a world in which Arthur was terrified for the futures of his children; second, they murdered his parents. It was too much. Arthur knew he had to do something. Arthur kissed his sleeping wife's forehead, wrote her a note explaining what had happened, and met his brothers at his parent's house to deal with the aftermath.
It wasn't long after his parents' deaths when Arthur was contacted by Albus Dumbledore. The elderly wizard explained calmly about a group he was building to fight against The Death Eaters. The group was called the Order of the Phoenix, and Albus was asking if Arthur would join the battle. Arthur said he needed some time to think about it. He didn't mention it to Molly at all. Now was not the time.
Molly and Arthur had decided on another child - might as well fill the world with good, if they could. Much to their surprise, one child turned out to be two: twins! Arthur had nearly fainted at the news. This would require a whole new budget - and a decent amount of overtime. At least Arthur had just been promoted from junior assistant to assistant - that would give them a little bit of extra money for sure, but it would still be rough. It was a miracle, to say the very least, that Arthur was actually home the very moment that Molly went into labor with the twins - and early, at that! It was a long labor. So long that Arthur found himself leaving in the middle to finish up some work and returning before it was over. But when it was, Arthur could hardly hold back the joy he felt at being a father once - or rather twice - again.
After the twins were born, Albus approached Arthur again. He thought about his family and how worried he was that his children might grow up in a world where hating muggle-borns was considered right. He agreed to join the Order, even shook Dumbledore's hand. That night, when he came home, he explained it all to Molly. Of course, it had resulted in a fight. The biggest one they ever had. Arthur was firm in his belief that joining the fight was the only way to ensure that their children were raised in a safe, happy, non-discriminatory home. Molly begged him to reconsider, but he would not budge on this decision. Any other time, he would have willingly given into his wife's wishes, but this time...this time was different.
With the fight behind them, and Arthur on an incredibly rare holiday from work, he looked at his beautiful wife. He wanted to give her everything, and he knew how badly she wanted a daughter, and it made him want a daughter just as much. Arthur dreamed of the day a little Weasley girl would be born into the world - she would be the first for generations! - and the look on Molly's face at holding a daughter? Arthur would have given almost anything to see that look. He managed to convince Molly that the...fifth time would be the charm, really.
With Molly pregnant once again, Arthur is doing all he can at work to pull ends together, to provide for the family he's always wanted, that he has now. On top of all of that, he goes out, night after night, fighting with the Order against the Death Eaters, hoping for a better tomorrow. And Arthur knows, that somewhere out there, it's possible that his father is smiling, knowing that he finally raised a middle child who was more than just average. Arthur Weasley knew he was more than just a middle child: he was the hope for the future of his children.
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for a site called Infinite Arms
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Being the middle child is not exactly easy. Everyone seems to think it is, but it's really not. You have to live up to the expectations set by your older siblings while still being a good example for the younger ones. It's really all about balance - finding the line and walking straight along it. Of course you'll probably wobble a bit now and again, but it's something you'll learn to live with. You'll never be the best, but at least you won't be the worst, either. You'll always be right in the middle. Average. It's just who you are.
That was Arthur Weasley's life. It was the life he was born into as the second son of a second son of a second son. All middle children who swore to break the chain of average middle children - should they have that many. They did. None had succeeded, however, in making their middle son feel anything other than, well, average. Of course, little Arthur had no idea that his father might have made such a vow, and in fact, would probably never find out.
For the first four years of his life, Arthur was in his elder brother's shadow, following in his footsteps with a goofy smile on his adorable face. His parents loved them both very much. But just two? It was far from enough children for this Weasley family. Septimus and Cedrella, who had been burnt off the Black family tree for marrying a Weasley, had intended to have at least five children. When Arthur was four, his younger brother was born, but due to some strange complications with the pregnancy, there would be no more Weasley children- or any children for that matter- born of Cedrella. Despite the rather depressing news, Septimus and Cedrella welcomed their third child into their family and their home, glad to have the three they had.
While Septimus and Cedrella loved each of their children, they never seemed to realize what it felt like for Arthur growing up. He had to be more like his big brother, who was showing strong signs of magic at the age of seven; he had to set a good example for his younger brother, always being the one to take the baby's hand and lead him forward. Now, it really wasn't so bad. Arthur had a very loving family, after all. He just tended to get a little bit overshadowed. His elder brother got the praise for doing everything the first time - it was therefore less impressive when Arthur managed it. His younger brother was, well, the baby, which meant he got a lot of extra attention as babies tended to receive. Which left Arthur right in the middle of it all.
Arthur could remember the day his elder brother got his Hogwarts letter nearly perfectly. It had been raining and very grey. Not one of the boys were allowed to go outside. Might catch cold their mother had said. Which meant they only had the option to play indoors for the day. Arthur had been watching the window when the owl came with the letter. He had been almost as excited has his elder brother had been, a wide grin on his face. There had been so much excitement throughout the household that day. The first son of the current generation of Weasleys was about to go off to Hogwarts! There was a trip to London, ice cream, and they even bought an owl! It was so much excitement Arthur was nearly falling asleep on the way home.
It was September first. Arthur was holding the hand of his younger brother on the platform as they waved the eldest off to his first year at Hogwarts. Arthur patted his crying baby brother on the back, promising they'd see the eldest again and not to worry; before long, they'd both be at Hogwarts, too.
Christmas finally came. Arthur's eldest brother came home with stories upon stories upon stories to tell to his two younger brothers who sat, enrapt by his words. He pulled something out of his bag and handed it to the youngest. It was a small wrapped box. He did the same for Arthur. Upon opening the box, wrapping paper strewn about, Arthur found a most curious item. His brother told him it was a "rubber duck" and he had gotten it from his muggle-born friend. Arthur was more than a little fascinated with the item. In fact, one might even have said he'd grown obsessed with it. It was there, in that moment, that Arthur knew he wanted to study muggles, to somehow work between the magical & Muggle worlds. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it yet, but he knew he would get there one day. It was his dream.
Two years passed and all that happened was Arthur's love for all things Muggle growing deeper and deeper. Well, and he got his Hogwarts letter, of course. Now, with his elder brother's hand-me-downs and a wand of his own, Arthur waved goodbye to his family as he stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express. It was even more incredible than he could have imagined. It would be four more years before his youngest brother would get to experience this, but Arthur was still looking forward to that day.
Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Arthur could hardly contain his excitement. His elder brother was no where to be seen, but that wasn't much of a surprise, really, considering the difference in years. The boats, though! Arthur loved the boats. He could recall a commotion coming from one of the other boats, but other than that, it had been perfect, like a dream. The way the lights played on the surface of the pristine lake. It was something Arthur would never forget - a story he would be sure to tell his younger brother, and, eventually, his own children. Arthur wondered how anything could be as amazing and perfect as that boat ride, and honestly, never expect anything to match the wonder he'd felt on the lake that night.
The Sorting Hat had barely touched Arthur's ginger hair before it had shouted out GRYFFINDOR! With a wide grin on his face, Arthur joined the Gryffindor house table - his elder brother was there, cheering the loudest. A few more first years were sorted before Arthur heard the name of the woman he subconsciously decided he was going to marry: Molly Prewett. His jaw dropped, his heart fluttered. He didn't really know it yet - because he was only eleven years old - but he was really in love. She was just so perfect, more so than the boat ride across the lake, and now, now he knew for sure, nothing else would ever be as beautiful.
Arthur tried several times throughout his first year at Hogwarts to talk to Molly, but she never seemed to notice him. Perhaps he was just too quiet, or maybe it was that he was just too...average. But it didn't matter. There were still years ahead of them in which he would be able to finally find the perfect way to talk to her.
Year two, and nothing to show for it. Well, aside from having a bit of a spat with a few other purebloods. The Weasley family were known to be blood traitors. Arthur, as it turns out, felt very strongly about this. He stood up for a couple of his (mostly) new muggle-born friends, and it sure got a bit messy. Luckily, almost no one was around to see it all. Arthur knew that, from that day onwards, he would never give a second thought to blood purity. Sure, he'd been told to treat all wizards equally by his parents, but he had never encountered such venom and bitterness all because of blood, and he knew that the purebloods were wrong. It was a belief that would come to shape much of his later life.
Third year arrived with much excitement from Arthur. This was the year. It had finally come! It was the first year he would be able to take the Muggle Studies class, and he could hardly wait. It was strange, though, because despite his excitement, it still seemed as though he blended into the background, hardly noticed by anyone - save when they needed someone to pick on or cheat off of. He was, after all, still a middle child. Yes, of course he had friends, but he was never special. He didn't seem to stand out in his classes, despite being rather clever, and he certainly didn't stand out in the looks department considering his tall, lanky, gangly appearance. But it really didn't bother him. He was happy with his life, and he knew, eventually, that he would talk to Molly Prewett, and, somehow, win her heart.
Muggle Studies was not quite what Arthur had imagined it would be, but it was amazing nonetheless. He learned a lot more than he might have expected, but that comes with growing up in a pureblooded family, he supposed. In fact, he was fairly certain no one he'd ever known in his entire family had ever really had contact with a real Muggle. Muggle-borns, sure, but not a Muggle. He wondered if he'd ever get the opportunity to meet a Muggle in real life - he had so many questions already! He dug deeper than probably any previous student in the Muggle Studies class, forsaking some of his other classes in order to do so, even. Muggle Studies had captured Arthur's mind. It was all he could think about, and he knew that he would, one way or another, work with Muggles and their interesting culture - whether it be directly or indirectly.
At the start of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Arthur's youngest brother joined Gryffindor. Arthur cheered the loudest - even louder than their eldest brother. It was incredible to be able to be there to answer whatever questions his little brother had. Granted, a majority of them seemed to be asked in secret - the youngest didn't want to look uncool in front of his new classmates. Arthur had simply chuckled to himself before turning back to the Muggle book he was reading - it was about electricity! - and staring over the top of the pages at Molly Prewett, laughing with her friends.
Arthur tried talking to Molly again. He didn't do any better at the age of fourteen than he had at the age of eleven. He knew now, though, that when his heart raced as he thought of her, that it might be love. Then again, maybe it wasn't. One Hogsmeade weekend, Arthur was asked to visit Madam Puddifoot's with a rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was a nice enough girl, and of course Arthur had said yes, but he knew, even from that one little date, that she wasn't the one for him. It only made him yearn for Molly all the more.
It was time for Arthur to study for his O.W.L.s. Boy, was he nervous. He knew he wanted to get into something relating to Muggles, but he had never really taken the time to figure out what sort of field that could be. Wizard-Muggle relations? But that sounded so...stiff. Would he be able to be the same person if that were his career path? This required some serious thinking. And perhaps some serious studying. As long as he got high enough marks in Muggle Studies, and most of the other classes he might need a N.E.W.T. level class for, well... he'd be alright.
Arthur went on a few more dates with the rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was nice, but Arthur felt wrong about it all. He knew he had to put an end to it before she started thinking things were getting serious and got hurt more than she already would be. He made sure to end it gently, away from crowds and the like. But, of course, she was still hurt, still claimed she'd never be able to forgive him.
With sixth year starting, Arthur realized he was running out of time. He needed to get Molly to notice him, to fall for him as completely as he'd already done for her. But the question was how. He still had several classes on his plate, too: charms, potions, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and muggle studies, having just squeaked by on most of them. And yet, somehow, his classes seemed so dull now that time was running out on his Molly problem.
It was the middle of the year when Arthur finally got his chance. There was a party. Molly was there. And thank Marlin for liquid courage, eh? He remembered inhaling deeply, thinking about how he really needed to just...talk to her...and then his memory went blank. Well, until the two of them were in the hallway. Molly was wobbling rather ferociously. She even fell and scraped her knee. Arthur was sorry he hadn't been able to catch her in time. He didn't laugh - that would have been rude - he simply helped her up. The next thing he knew, she had kissed him - was kissing him. And it was everything he had hoped it would be. His heart skipped a beat, it felt like he had wings. He knew that if she were by his side, he could do anything. And as much as he loved that kiss, the taste of her lips, he pulled back shyly, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her walk a bit more steadily. Who knows if she'd really wanted to kiss him or if it had just been the alcohol. Whatever the case, he wouldn't take advantage of her. They walked the grounds for hours that night, just talking. He told her all about his love of Muggles, his family...everything; and he wanted to know every little thing about her, drinking in her every word as though he were dying of thirst. It was four in the morning when they returned to the Gryffindor common room, and Arthur was sure he'd never had a better day at Hogwarts than this one.
The next day was in competition with Arthur's night out with Molly for a long time. The only reason was because Molly was no longer ignoring him. He had done it! The way she waved to him, the smile on her lips... It distracted him for the entire day. It was no use doing his homework - he'd only end up scribbling her name all over the parchment. The next chance he got, he asked if she would go to Hogsmeade with him - to Madam Puddifoot's. He was over the moon when she agreed. If anyone were to ask Arthur, it had been a perfect date. Arthur figured Molly had liked it - and him - well enough since she kept talking to him after the fact. And she didn't seem to mind the nickname he'd come up with for her after the night of the party, either: Mollywobbles.
By the time they were leaving Hogwarts, the threat of war was coming. It loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon. Who knew what could happen tomorrow? The future was being tossed about like a ship in a storm, always uncertain. Arthur had turned to Molly one afternoon when they were having a quiet lunch together during the Christmas holiday, when she had said "Let's elope, Arthur." Despite the surprise, Arthur was more than overjoyed that she would want to marry him. He agreed, and soon after leaving Hogwarts, they ran away together. Of course Arthur wrote to his family later, explaining everything. They weren't upset, really. Rather, they seemed rather excited to meet Molly, and Arthur couldn't wait to introduce her.
Arthur was only twenty years old when his first son was born. William, they named him - Bill for short. He was a beautiful baby boy, and Arthur couldn't have been more proud. He had a good feeling that everything was going to go very well for the family he and Molly were growing. He was working at the Ministry, a junior assistant in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. It was everything he could have dreamed of in a job! And he'd been hired just after he and Molly had eloped. It was perfect timing, too. The signing bonus was enough for them to buy an adorable little home with - The Burrow, they called it - and when little Bill was born, they began adding on to the house - as they would do for years to come with each new child as they needed more and more space.
Charlie was rather unexpected. Not that Arthur minded, of course, as he was looking forward to having a family - a real, and large, family with the love of his life. But two children, and so close together, made things difficult. Arthur found himself spending entirely too much time working in an attempt to make sure ends would meet - that his wife and two wonderful sons - would have all they could ever dream of. Arthur knew Molly needed him, but he also knew he had to provide for her, and he was torn. He never let Molly see the anguish he felt at being away from her so much; instead he always greeted her with love and warmth whenever he made it home.
The next four years were rough, but they evened out. Things were alright in the Weasley household. Arthur was making enough money to support his wife and two sons, himself, and own a home. Things were looking up. Aside from the looming cloud of war rolling in faster and faster. Arthur worried about his family. Would they be safe? He knew his own family had been labeled blood traitors long ago, and with the purists seeming to come out, Arthur was terrified that his family would be in danger. He would spend hours at work, worrying about it all, trying to see a way to protect them while still taking a stand against the purists and their backwards views. With all that weighing him down, the birth of Percy was a welcome distraction. Percy was just as perfect as his two older brothers, but it meant another mouth to feed. Arthur worried that he and Molly had made a mistake bringing another child into the world - this world in particular, one where someone would be thought of as less simply because of who their parents were. Still, Arthur believed his son to be a bright spot in a darkening world, and he was glad he and Molly had made the decision they did.
Two years passed. It was 1977, and the world was dark and full of terrors. Arthur and Molly had been talking about having another child - she really wanted a daughter, and who was he to deny her? Arthur had been in bed beside a sleeping Molly, trying to figure out their budget for the next baby, when the owl came. His parents had been murdered. They weren't sure who had done it, but Arthur had his suspicions considering the rising tensions between the purists and, well, everyone else. Arthur had never felt so infuriated in his entire life. First, they - whoever they really were - were creating a world in which Arthur was terrified for the futures of his children; second, they murdered his parents. It was too much. Arthur knew he had to do something. Arthur kissed his sleeping wife's forehead, wrote her a note explaining what had happened, and met his brothers at his parent's house to deal with the aftermath.
It wasn't long after his parents' deaths when Arthur was contacted by Albus Dumbledore. The elderly wizard explained calmly about a group he was building to fight against The Death Eaters. The group was called the Order of the Phoenix, and Albus was asking if Arthur would join the battle. Arthur said he needed some time to think about it. He didn't mention it to Molly at all. Now was not the time.
Molly and Arthur had decided on another child - might as well fill the world with good, if they could. Much to their surprise, one child turned out to be two: twins! Arthur had nearly fainted at the news. This would require a whole new budget - and a decent amount of overtime. At least Arthur had just been promoted from junior assistant to assistant - that would give them a little bit of extra money for sure, but it would still be rough. It was a miracle, to say the very least, that Arthur was actually home the very moment that Molly went into labor with the twins - and early, at that! It was a long labor. So long that Arthur found himself leaving in the middle to finish up some work and returning before it was over. But when it was, Arthur could hardly hold back the joy he felt at being a father once - or rather twice - again.
After the twins were born, Albus approached Arthur again. He thought about his family and how worried he was that his children might grow up in a world where hating muggle-borns was considered right. He agreed to join the Order, even shook Dumbledore's hand. That night, when he came home, he explained it all to Molly. Of course, it had resulted in a fight. The biggest one they ever had. Arthur was firm in his belief that joining the fight was the only way to ensure that their children were raised in a safe, happy, non-discriminatory home. Molly begged him to reconsider, but he would not budge on this decision. Any other time, he would have willingly given into his wife's wishes, but this time...this time was different.
With the fight behind them, and Arthur on an incredibly rare holiday from work, he looked at his beautiful wife. He wanted to give her everything, and he knew how badly she wanted a daughter, and it made him want a daughter just as much. Arthur dreamed of the day a little Weasley girl would be born into the world - she would be the first for generations! - and the look on Molly's face at holding a daughter? Arthur would have given almost anything to see that look. He managed to convince Molly that the...fifth time would be the charm, really.
With Molly pregnant once again, Arthur is doing all he can at work to pull ends together, to provide for the family he's always wanted, that he has now. On top of all of that, he goes out, night after night, fighting with the Order against the Death Eaters, hoping for a better tomorrow. And Arthur knows, that somewhere out there, it's possible that his father is smiling, knowing that he finally raised a middle child who was more than just average. Arthur Weasley knew he was more than just a middle child: he was the hope for the future of his children.
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for a site called Infinite Arms
Saturday, April 09, 2016
Character Development - Gwendolyn Tully (AU Game of Thrones)
15 - 283AL
Born in Riverrun, Gwendolyn was the second daughter of Edmure and Allyria Tully. The maesters and septas have told her that she was such a happy baby: red-faced with laughter more often than tears. Gwen would simply smile at the stories, continue with whatever it was she was doing, and wonder to herself if it were really true. She certainly didn't feel like someone who had been a happy baby-- not that she really knew what that felt like, though. Allyria doted on the infant in a way she hadn't quite done with her first born daughter. Not that the infant noticed, and, in fact, had she not later noticed the difference in the way her mother acted with her as opposed to her elder sister, Gwen might never have known at all.14 - 284AL
The first year of little Gwen's life was uninteresting, to say the least. Nothing much happened. There was no plague, no anything, really. Yes, there were still people dying, but the plague was dying as well. Gwen was only one year old, and none of this really meant a thing to her. Generally speaking, Gwen simply laughed at everything and tugged on the skirts of those older than her. More importantly, at the tender age of one, Gwendolyn became a princess. Rhaegar split the seven kingdoms, and, being the second daughter of the now King of Riverrun, Gwen was a princess. And yet, she was still a child that did not understand the meaning of the words being told to her.What did mean something to her, however, was the birth of another baby. Gwendolyn became a big sister. Sure, she might have only been one year old, but she loved the new baby. It wouldn't have come as shock to anyone to find out that the little princess thought the baby was her own personal doll, made just for her. It really was a wonderful time to be little Gwen.
13 - 285AL
Two years old and already a trouble maker. Well, sort of. Having already learned to walk-- and run-- little Gwen found her greatest pleasure in making everything a game of Hide & Seek. She would play with anyone willing to let her play with them, stranger or no. This was the year the last person infected by the plague died, ridding the world of the disease. All that meant to the two-year-old princess, though, was that she was no longer kept only within the confines of the castle, and was once carried out by her father on a visit to commonfolk. All little Gwen could see was a great deal of new people to play Hide & Seek with. It was a good thing her father did not put her down that day.10 - 288AL
By the time she was five years old, Gwendolyn had become quite the little lady. She was almost perfect at her curtsy, and was able to recite a couple of short poems. On top of all that, she was learning how to sing, do needlepoint, and everything about all of the other houses and the history they all shared by being in Westeros. Gwen enjoyed learning, but she wanted to be able to do the things her elder sister was doing, too. There, growing deep down, was the seed of jealousy. Gwen knew her mother favored the eldest- perhaps it was the way her mother spoke of Alora, or perhaps it was something else, but somehow, Gwen felt sure she was correct. And while she was jealous, she did not let it bother her.When it came right down to it, Gwen knew she would never be anything like her elder sister. Alora was tough, rigid, and inspiring. Gwendolyn was a romantic at heart, soft, and would likely find herself terrified were she to be in Alora's shoes.
Whenever she was not required to be indoors, Gwendolyn would find her way to the garden. There she would glance around before taking off her delicate shoes and dancing around in the dirt and grime. She would always come back indoors with a handful of flowers picked specially for her mother. Gwendolyn loved her mother, loved her sisters, and her father, too. Family, Duty, Honor. It was already engrained into her every day thoughts and actions, even at the tender age of five.
7 - 291AL
Gwendolyn was eight years old when she had her first dream about her future wedding. It was lovely and perfect. There had been cherry tarts, lemon cakes, and even apple crisps! She had looked stunning in her wedding gown, and her betrothed had been the most handsome man in all of Westeros. Upon waking, she could hardly wait to tell her younger sister and their handmaidens. Romance was all the little princess could think about nowadays. It was in all the stories - or so it seemed anyways. Gwen could hardly wait for the day when she would become a woman and have a beautiful wedding to a handsome man- perhaps a knight!- and they would live together in a castle, with several children, and a lifetime of true love.It was a warm day when Gwen decided to slip out without permission. She found herself wandering around the garden, a soft smile on her lips. Stumbling upon a person she'd never met before, she greeted him kindly and asked what he was doing. The man explained to her that he was planting some new flowers. Interested in the idea, Gwen asked the man to teach her. He seemed rather nervous, but he hesitantly agreed once she began almost begging him.
Upon returning inside, Gwendolyn got quite the reprimand. She was covered in dirt- it had likely ruined the gown she'd been wearing- and she'd forgotten to bring her shoes back inside with her. Afterwards, Gwen was sitting alone on her bed, studying silently as she had been told to do. She had already been scrubbed clean after her gardening adventure, and there seemed to be no trace left of what fun she'd had that day.
5 - 293AL
Two years after the garden incident, Gwen finally asked her father to allow her to visit with the commonfolk. There was some deliberation between her father, her uncle, her mother, and her teachers. In fact, there was a couple days worth of deliberation before Gwendolyn was finally told she would be allowed to visit the commonfolk- but she was to remain under close supervision. Luckily, the person doing the supervising would be her uncle Bryndyn. Despite generally being afraid of the man, Gwen found she really did love her uncle, and this just proved it all the more.The day they went out, he did not watch her like a hawk watching its prey. Instead, he gave her simple guidelines, and she found them easy enough to follow. It seemed everyone knew who she was, and she wondered if it was because of her hair, but she guessed it was more likely the fact that she had come riding in with her uncle on a horse waving the Tully banner, surrounded by a few good guards...and her dress was of a finer- and cleaner- material than anything they were wearing. She smiled at everyone she met, asked them a few questions about their lives, their flowers. In the whole day, Gwen found one person in particular whom she admired: a painter. He made such beautiful images using dyes, and it amazed Gwen. She wondered if it was a skill that would be easy to learn. Then again, considering the mess the man made, Gwen doubted she would be able to convince anyone that this painting skill would be better suited to a lady than learning needlepoint and weaving for tapestries.
3 - 295AL
The morning that Gwen woke in a pool of blood, she screamed. Loudly. It caused quite the commotion, really. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and it took her mother's soothing to calm her down. There was no need to be afraid, not really. It was simply the mark of womanhood. Gwen spent the rest of the day in bed after the sheets had been taken to be cleaned, that is, and replaced. She wondered why it was such a big deal if all she was going to do would be to stay in bed feeling like she was going to die. She asked her mother if it would always hurt this much. For the life of her, she could never recall her mother's answer, but Gwen liked to imagine her mother had said it would get better.Lying there, in bed, gwen tried to imagine what this meant for her now. She was no longer a child, and it was time for her to stop acting like one. In the morning, she promised to act like a proper lady from then on. She was sure that within a few years time, she would be betrothed, anyways, so why not start acting like someone the knight in her dreams might be proud to call wife? Twelve was a good an age as any to be a proper wife, after all!
2 - 296AL
Ever since she had been granted her first adventure to visit the commonfolk, Gwendolyn took it for all it was worth. She visited as frequently as she could, talking with the people, smiling, laughing, singing, and, on occasion, dancing with them. She never told her father about the dancing- he would be sure to never allow her to return if he ever found out. There were a couple of farm girls, her age, whom Gwen had taken a particular liking to. She enjoyed their company, and were it not for the difference in their statuses, she might have called them friends. She wondered if she might be able to convince her father to bring at least one of them on as a new handmaiden. That way, at least, Gwen could spend all the time she liked with at least one of them. She made a note to ask about it later.The jealousy that had started to grow years earlier finally buds. Gwen watches her elder sister with a doting look of anger. Gwen feels certain that Alora will be Queen of Riverrun one day, and it makes her want to scream, want to shout. Gwen was never as close to Alora as she was with Laisa, so she cannot be certain that her elder sister actually loves Riverrun as much as Gwendolyn does, and she believes that a queen that does not love her home should not rule it. The only person Gwen ever mentions her envious feelings to is Laisa. Laisa means the whole world to Gwen, and being only a year apart in age, they grew up doing just about everything together. Gwen made Laisa promise to never tell a single soul. So far as Gwen was ever aware, Laisa never did.
1 - 297AL
Fourteen years old and still without a betrothal. Where a good number of girls her age would see this as a terrible curse, Gwen looks upon it with optimism. That means she still has a chance to find her true love! Perhaps at the next tourney she'll meet themost handsome knight in all of Westeros, and he will ask for her hand. It is simply a lovely story she had made up in her head, and she sighs as she sits, staring out the window at the rivers, running fingers through her curls.It is the middle of the year when she met a boy. She couldn't recall which house he hailed from, but she was certain it was one of the houses pledged to her father- Erenford? Wode? Perhaps Mooton? He was a few years her elder, but he had been so perfect- handsome, kind, strong... Gwendolyn was certain he had liked her just as much as she'd liked him. They had spent a short while talking, but never alone. When he had left, Gwen knew she would always be able to recall what his lips felt like against the back of her hand. She dreamt of him that night, and many nights afterwards. In fact, it was not uncommon that his was the face she now saw in dreams of her wedding day. He had said he would return, and Gwen wondered, with hope in her heart, when that day would come.
0 - 298AL
As the days came and went, Gwendolyn was beginning to believe the boy in her dreams would never come back to her. She wondered if perhaps she had simply imagined him the whole time. Her heart was heavy, but she went on living. She was fifteen now, practically an adult.
Being an adult, when Gwendolyn got the news that she was to wed Theon Greyjoy, of the Iron Isles, she managed to act like it was the best news she had ever gotten in her entire life. It wasn't. Truth be told, Gwen was excited that she was finally betrothed, that her wedding day was now only just around the corner; but she was not excited about to whom she was betrothed. She knew the reputation of the Iron Islanders- she had been a good student.
Gwendolyn sat in the window, looking out at the rivers she loved so dearly, thinking about her new betrothal, about the boy who would never come back for her, and about a home far away that she might never love. Would it really be as bad as she was making it all out to be? She hoped not, hoped she would be proven wrong. Whatever the outcome, Gwen promised herself to stay optimistic about it all. It was all she could do.
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for a site called A Call To Arms
Friday, April 10, 2015
Writing Doodle 025 - Selenophile
He loved her.
To those that knew, it was obvious, but to those that didn't, well, they simply didn't see the signs. Really, though, he loved her with his whole heart, with every piece of himself. Everything he did, he did for her.
And yet, they hardly saw one another. It was as though their lives were on complete opposite schedules. Still, he did what he could.
When he looked at her, she was radiant. Always glowing silver and fair, but never obscene in her beauty. She was perfect.
What he didn't realize, though, was that she would only glow beautifully when he could see her. He was the reason she shone. It was his light that caused hers. Perhaps he would never realize it. He was far too much in love to be reasonable, to see the reality.
She was the moon, and he the sun, and still he loved her like no one had ever loved before.
To those that knew, it was obvious, but to those that didn't, well, they simply didn't see the signs. Really, though, he loved her with his whole heart, with every piece of himself. Everything he did, he did for her.
And yet, they hardly saw one another. It was as though their lives were on complete opposite schedules. Still, he did what he could.
When he looked at her, she was radiant. Always glowing silver and fair, but never obscene in her beauty. She was perfect.
What he didn't realize, though, was that she would only glow beautifully when he could see her. He was the reason she shone. It was his light that caused hers. Perhaps he would never realize it. He was far too much in love to be reasonable, to see the reality.
She was the moon, and he the sun, and still he loved her like no one had ever loved before.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Character Development - Zytarriel
Character developed based upon lore of the Dragon Age series by Bioware prior to DA:I release.
For a very long time, elves have been treated as lesser beings
by humans. That was what Zytarriel was born into. Slavery. Her mother had been
pregnant when she had been captured and sold. Zytarriel was a miracle. The way
her mother had been struck so many times, it was a wonder that Zytarriel hadn't
been a miscarriage. When the child was born, her mother tried to keep her a
secret. It was only a few months later when the child was found. Thankfully,
the child had been found by the master's wife, a very motherly woman, who
wanted to keep the child. Her husband was disgusted but allowed it as long as
the child was never told she was an elf.
At the age of five, Zytarriel was beginning to look very
different than her brothers and sister, all of whom were older than she was.
Her brothers, aged seven and eleven, made fun of her all the time. But now,
they were getting mean. They told her she was a slave, an elf, made her do things
for them. They called her "knife ears" and laughed at her. The
teasing brought her to the point of tears more often than not. She was certain
she wasn't an elf, but her ears... Her ears were so pointy. Maybe if she cut
off the tips, they would stop making fun of her. So that was exactly what the
child did. She took a knife from the kitchen and sat in the pantry. The knife
sliced through her skin so easily, but when the blood began to run down her
hands, she screamed. There was so much pain. One of the kitchen workers found
her and rushed her to her parents. Eventually, her ear healed, but she would
forever be missing the tip of her right ear.
After that incident, her "mother" told her everything.
"Yes, Zytarriel, you are an elf." The five year old couldn't
understand. She refused to believe the truth. She was human, she had to be.
Elves were slaves, hated. Zytarriel did not want to be hated. Zytarriel simply
couldn't believe the truth, no matter how many times her "mother"
tried to tell her. Once word had gotten to her "father" that she had
been told the truth, everything got worse. That had been the one condition he
had given, and it had been broken. He would no longer allow the child to live
in his house as anything more than a slave.
Zytarriel became the personal servant of the girl she had once
called sister. For the most part, she was treated well. There were times,
though, when she did not do something perfectly and the man who had once been
called her father would make an example of her poor work by taking the whip to
her back. He seemed to enjoy the pain it caused the elves. Zytarriel had never
truly been able to grasp the truth. Even though she was made to wait on her
"siblings" and would regularly be flogged by her "father."
She loved her family.
Several years later, when Zytarriel was seventeen years old, her
real mother came looking for her. Years earlier, she had been sold to someone
else for an exorbitant amount of money. The man treated Zytarriel's birth
mother with much kindness and love and set her free. With her freedom, she came
back for her child. Zytarriel refused to see the woman as her birth mother. She
was human, why couldn't everyone see that?! Zytarriel pushed the woman away.
There was such a commotion from the small scuffle that the master of the house
came to see what was going on. When Zytarriel's birth mother stood straight and
asked for her daughter back, the man struck her across the face, laughing as he
did so. He overpowered the woman, and with Zytarriel right there, watching he
raped the woman before binding her hands and whipping her until she could no
longer stand. Her screams ripped through the house, the countryside. Zytarriel
stood watching in horror, the screams piercing her mind. It wans't long before
her birth mother bled out and died right there at Zytarriel's feet.
Everything in the house reminded Zytarriel of that woman, the
one who had said she had been Zytarriel's mother. Every night, the screams
would wake her. Zytarriel had to leave. In the middle of the night Zytarriel
dressed herself in black, covering her silvery-white hair so as not to be seen,
and snuck out, away from the house, away from everything. She wandered for days
until she stumbled upon a group of Dalish elves. They took her in, fed her,
cleaned her up, helped her get rid of the nightmares. She stayed with the elves
for a long time. It was with them that she came to Sundermount.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Writing Doodle 017 - Endland 02
How to Get to Endland
A Beginner's Guide
Getting to Endland isn't nearly as difficult as people make it out to be. In fact, once you figure out the hang of it, it's quite simple, really. The first few times may feel like a struggle, but don't worry, you'll get the knack of it by your forth try. And believe me, it's certainly worth whatever effort you put in.
Now, before you begin, it is highly recommended that you find a nice, solitary place to practice slipping away into Endland. I certainly suggest a room with a blank wall, as I've always found steps 3 and 4 to work best with a blank wall. Of course, that's just me. You may find you much prefer to always find Endland from the middle of the ocean. To each his own, I suppose!
Let's get started, shall we?
Step 1: Close Your Eyes
The first thing you need to do when trying to get to Endland is simple. You need to close your eyes. Why? Because many people seem to have trouble believing when all they can see is the real world surrounding them. Closing your eyes allows you to use your imagination, to picture Endland in your mind's eye. Knowing where you're going is half the battle.
Step 2: Believe
As one grows older, this step becomes more and more difficult. It is, however, quite essential. If you don't believe in Endland, there is no way you can possibly find it. You see, it is quite fond of hiding from those with closed or shallow minds, only opening itself for those who it believes will love and care for it. In other words, it will only show itself to those who believe it exists. This is why closing one's eyes becomes so essential-- it allows even the non-believers to use their imaginations and begin to believe, even just a little bit.
Step 3: Picture A Door
With your eyes still shut, you must imagine a door standing before you. Shut. The door you imagine should be a closed door, not open. This is very important. If the door is not shut, or if you picture an open doorway, it will not work. However, so long as the door is closed, it can be any kind of door you'd like: the door of a wardrobe; a small, round door; a castle gate; an intricately carved wooden door-- the choice is yours. But keep in mind, the door must be closed.
Step 4: Open The Door
Once you have the door, and your destination, very clearly defined in your head, carefully open your eyes. Standing before you should be the door you were just picturing in your mind. It may or may not be shimmering with something that looks like glitter-- I assure you, it is not glitter, but neither is it anything to worry about. Now, as long as you have done the first three steps correctly, you should be able to reach out and physically touch the door your imagination has manifested. If you can do that, you can open the door, which is highly recommended if you would like to enter Endland, which is, indeed, the whole point of this instructional. So there you have it, reach out and open your door.
Step 5: Step Through The Door
Once you have opened the door, you should see Endland through the doorway. It is imperative that you continue to believe, otherwise the door, and Endland with it, may very well disappear. However, if the door does not disappear, I encourage you to step through it quickly. Once you have stepped through the door, it will disappear behind you, but you will be in Endland, just as you wished.
* * * * *
So there you have it, instructions on how to get to Endland. For the return journey, please see How to Return from Endland: A Beginner's Guide. I do hope you enjoy your stay in the realm of Fata.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Writing Doodle 016 - Endland 01
Endland sits at the edge of the world. I bet you thought the world was round. It is. Well, sort of. The human world is a globe, round. The realm of Fata, the faerie realm, as some have come to call it, however, is most certainly not round. It is quite flat, I assure you. Endland is at the eastern-most edge of Fata. It, of course, get's its name from being at the end of the world.
Really, Endland is quite beautiful. It has lush, green grass that covers much of the area with soft, rolling hills. Of course, there is a great number of flowers, as well. The flowers come in all colors, so long as the color is vibrant. Though, these can be dangerous-- their gentle beauty is misleading. And the trees! Don't even get me started! They are the most beautiful trees in all of existence! The trunks are a beautiful silvery blue, and with leaves of burnished gold, they shimmer throughout day and night. Then again, day and night tend to blend together into a never ending twilight. A lilac haze covers the sky as stars peek out, twinkling with delight along with their sister, the moon. And yet, it always feels as through the sun is there, warming you, smiling down on you.
Really, Endland is quite beautiful. It has lush, green grass that covers much of the area with soft, rolling hills. Of course, there is a great number of flowers, as well. The flowers come in all colors, so long as the color is vibrant. Though, these can be dangerous-- their gentle beauty is misleading. And the trees! Don't even get me started! They are the most beautiful trees in all of existence! The trunks are a beautiful silvery blue, and with leaves of burnished gold, they shimmer throughout day and night. Then again, day and night tend to blend together into a never ending twilight. A lilac haze covers the sky as stars peek out, twinkling with delight along with their sister, the moon. And yet, it always feels as through the sun is there, warming you, smiling down on you.
Saturday, November 08, 2014
Writing Doodle 015 - Octopus Kingdom Adventure
"You have to help me! My daughter's been taken! Please!"
"Slow down. Who took your daughter?"
"The- you won't believe me. But please, you have to help me! My daughter!"
Pinching the bridge of her nose, the woman sitting at the desk let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, your daughter. You mentioned. Now, who took her." She was running out of patience.
"Ohhh you won't believe me! You won't. You'll think I'm crazy! My--"
"Look. Just tell me who took your daughter. Otherwise, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
A moment of shocked silence before the desperate mother continued. "It was.. It was the... The Octoradi."
This wasn't the first time she had heard of the Octoradi. The legend was about as well-known as the Happy Birthday song-- that is to say, everyone knew it. But it was supposed to be just a legend, not something real.
Lifting a slender eyebrow, she eyed the man standing in front of her. He didn't look like some desperate man, craving attention. Nor did he particularly look like some crazy homeless person, just looking for a way out of the cold for a bit. "The Octoradi, hmm? They say the Octopi have a secret kingdom in the middle of the ocean, connected to every body of water on Earth via portals they've built with their advanced technology. They say the Octopi that live in that kingdom are known as the Octoradi, that they take humans-- usually between the ages of seventeen and twenty-three-- for their celebrations, experiments... you name it, they use humans for it. Now, are you telling me that these...mythical beings have taken your daughter?"
"Ye-yes, Ma'am. Please... I knew you wouldn't believe me, but my...my daughter!"
Narrowing her eyes, the woman lit a cigarette. Blowing the smoke out into the room, she eyed the man once more. "Alright. I'll take the case. I'll find your daughter."
This wasn't the first time she had heard of the Octoradi. The legend was about as well-known as the Happy Birthday song-- that is to say, everyone knew it. But it was supposed to be just a legend, not something real.
Lifting a slender eyebrow, she eyed the man standing in front of her. He didn't look like some desperate man, craving attention. Nor did he particularly look like some crazy homeless person, just looking for a way out of the cold for a bit. "The Octoradi, hmm? They say the Octopi have a secret kingdom in the middle of the ocean, connected to every body of water on Earth via portals they've built with their advanced technology. They say the Octopi that live in that kingdom are known as the Octoradi, that they take humans-- usually between the ages of seventeen and twenty-three-- for their celebrations, experiments... you name it, they use humans for it. Now, are you telling me that these...mythical beings have taken your daughter?"
"Ye-yes, Ma'am. Please... I knew you wouldn't believe me, but my...my daughter!"
Narrowing her eyes, the woman lit a cigarette. Blowing the smoke out into the room, she eyed the man once more. "Alright. I'll take the case. I'll find your daughter."
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