OP would like some fills with any characters in fairytales from their country. Disney sugar coated versions of the original is also allowed. Fluff, smut, whatever is fine. Genderbents are welcome too. Bonus: Hans Christian Anderson + DenNor
Also, would you mind if it ended up being something of a mash-up of fairytales (mostly The Wild Swans, with bits and pieces inspired by others), because I've got a rather strange idea that might work for your prompt, depending on what exactly you're looking for.
So... yeah, I'm kind of experimenting with this one. It's fairly dark, based largely off of the Wild/Seven Swans tale with mentions of parent-child incest and mpreg, also magic is very much a thing that may or may not be properly explained. I am a fairly slow writer, but I know where I'm going with this, mostly, so it shouldn't be too long between updates.
Not Canon Names: Soren - Denmark Lukas - Norway Emil – Iceland **
Once upon a time... that was how the Story began. Every Saturday night, after the boys had washed and prepared for bed, Father would gather them in the sitting room and tell them the Story.
And every week, he started the same way.
Once upon a time.
**
Once upon a time, there was a King.
He was a good King, powerful and kind, if not a bit prickly and prone to temper.
He loved his people, and they knew it and loved him back.
And when the King fell in love, the Kingdom rejoiced.
The Queen was a bright man, with hair like the sun over eyes like the noon-day sky full of mischief and happiness, never one to take the King's sharp tongue to heart. It was the Queen who begged the King to use his magic to allow him to bear their children, and the King could not bear to refuse.
Six beautiful sons were born within the span of ten years, bringing light and joy into the castle and the kingdom, but Magic is not used lightly.
With each child, the Queen grew weaker and weaker, until finally he swore to the worried King that the seventh child, currently resting within his belly, would be the last.
And he was. With blue eyes and golden locks, the child was born in the image of the Queen, but the Queen did not live to hold his youngest babe.
**
Berwald wrapped his arms around the slender figure of his youngest brother, rocking gently back and forth as Matthew burst into tears. Father was so wrapped up in his memories that he hardly noticed the quiet sobbing – the only sound outside of the crackling fire to break the silence - though it was hardly a surprise. Though Father claimed to love all of his children, ensuring that none of them lacked for anything within his power, he couldn't bear to look at Matthew.
Little Matthew, the final gift from their “mother”, who, out of all of his brothers, resembled Queen Alfred the most.
Who had to be reassured almost daily that his brothers did not hate him for being born because Father refused to stop telling that damned Story like it wasn't their story as well, as though they might forget Dad if he didn't remind them of his sacrifice Every. Single. Week.
“What happened next?” Tino's subdued voice broke through the miserable silence, and Berwald cast a grateful glance to where Tino was curled up with Eduard in front of the fire.
The sooner the story was over, the sooner they could escape to their room, away from Father and his endless grief.
“Ah,” Father blinked, his eyes dark and empty, as though he'd forgotten what he was doing. “Where was I...?”
**
The Queen died with a smile on his face and a name on his lips, taking with him the Kingdom's light.
Save for the seven stars he had borne the King, the only consolation in the darkness of his grief.
And the King took his precious sons and hid them away where they would be safe, because he could not bear to lose the gifts his Queen had died for.
Perched up on the mantle, Soren bit back the urge to growl, his gaze sweeping over the downcast expressions of his brothers, pausing when he saw Matthew curled into Berwald's tight embrace, still shuddering from the force of his quiet sobs.
Sometimes he hated Arthur for being so selfish. For not thinking about what he was doing to his sons.
For forgetting that he had not been the only one to grieve when Dad had died - even Emil, who had only been three at the time, had cried for days when Soren had told him that “Dama” wouldn't be coming back. For locking them all away without even servants to talk to in the name of protection and then being so wrapped up in his grief and self-loathing that the only time he spent with them was the morning meal each day and the weekly story time, where he made sure that none of his sons forgot just how miserable he was because of them.
Because Dad had wanted a large family, and so had not been willing to stop at one or two, sacrificing his health and inevitably his life so that they could live.
Arthur didn't deserve the title of Father. Not when Soren had been the one to wipe away his brothers' tears and tuck them in at night, not when nine-year-old Berwald was changing baby Matthew's diapers while Soren had played mother and father and nursemaid all in one before he was even as old as Matthew was now.
“And they all lived happily ever after...,” Arthur finished, his voice trailing off as he stared into the distance.
Snorting, Soren jumped down, clenching his jaw to keep from voicing his opinion of Arthur's story as he stalked out of the room, more for the sake of his brothers than his father. The last time he'd lashed out at Arthur in front of them, it had escalated far too quickly. Matthew had flinched away from him afterward and Berwald had not been pleased.
So he held in his temper until he reached the large bedroom that all seven of them shared, and then he grabbed the pillow off of the nearest bed and threw it across the room, dropping onto the bed as his anger fled.
Twenty-one, and he'd been trapped in this castle with the same eight people for over half his life. Not that Soren begrudged his brothers the time he'd spent caring for them, but sometimes he wished he could just get away and see the world outside of the stone walls that were their prison just once more.
“Soren?” Tino peeked his head around the door, looking nervous and pleading at the same time.
“Hey,” Soren waved him in, patting the bedspread in silent invitation. He knew that his temper scared his brothers sometimes, especially the younger ones, but he was still relieved when Tino came rushing to join him, Eduard at his heels. “You okay?”
Eduard shook his head, curling up against Soren like a kitten, but he didn't say a word. Instead, Tino, who was curled up on Soren's other side spoke up, “Will he ever stop telling that story?”
Brow furrowed in worry – Eduard had long ago stopped relying on Tino to speak for him except when he was too distressed to voice his own thoughts – Soren shook his head. “It's been eleven years. If he was going to stop, he'd've done it by now.”
If he had cared at all, he'd have stopped long before Matthew was old enough to understand – the words were left unspoken this time. They'd been said before, far too often, but nothing ever changed.
“I am going to kill Father.” Lukas' voice was void of emotion, but his eyes flickered with fury as he ushered Emil into the room.
“Not 'til I get a chance,” Soren countered. Still, if Lukas was that upset... Soren's gaze went to the door, watching for Berwald and his precious cargo.
“S'alright, Matt,” Berwald's deep voice came from the doorway, Matthew's trembling body cradled against his shoulder. “Won't let 'im near ya 'gain.”
“He asleep?” Soren pushed himself up with his elbows until he was sitting on the bed, letting the twins curl back up against him in his new position.
“Hardly,” Berwald muttered, using one hand to pull the covers down in the bed just across from where Soren and the twins were sprawled out. “Should've made him sleep though. We're gonna hav'ta start all over with him now.” Shaking his head, he laid Matthew onto the bed, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead before pulling the blanket back up.
“What happened?” As cold as it might seem, Matthew was used to hearing how it was his birth that had killed Dad, and even if he needed constant reaffirmation that his brothers would always love him, it had been almost a year since the Story had really affected him.
“We were saying good night, and Father snapped out of it long enough to see Matthew, and then he started talking about how beautiful he was, 'just like my Alfred',” Lukas sneered, his hands twisting and curling like he was fighting the urge to light the room on fire – he probably was, considering this was more emotion than he usually showed in a week. “You should have seen the look in his eyes, Soren. He's not sane. I think he really thought that Matthew was Dad.”
“He didn't...” Oh, gods. Soren didn't want to believe it, because as much as he hated Arthur, the man was still their father, but Berwald just looked at him, angry and scared and worried, and Soren knew that it was no lie.
It was that look, the look of a child who needed to know what to do, coming from Berwald, who had always seemed so much older than Soren despite being a year younger, that kept Soren from completely losing his temper.
Then Matthew whimpered and shoved the blankets away, face still streaked with drying tears as he reached up, silently pleading for Berwald to hold him again.
They couldn't stay like this forever, Soren thought as he watched Berwald give in to the wide-eyed plea, whispering some quiet words into Matthew's ear that seemed to calm him.
Arthur hadn't touched Matthew – if he had tried, Lukas wouldn't just be talking about killing him because he would have already burnt the body after Berwald had snapped his neck– but Matthew was so desperate for his father's love that if Arthur got him alone for a moment, he might very well go along with whatever Arthur wanted.
“We're not staying here.” Eleven years, Soren had dreamed of leaving, though he'd always cared too much for his brothers to follow through with the plans he'd made. But if Arthur had finally noticed Matthew's resemblance to the lost Queen as more than a cause of pain, Father or not, it was only a matter of time before he forgot himself completely, and Soren would tie his brothers up and carry them away in sacks before allowing them to be hurt. “Not if Arthur's finally snapped.”
“M'sorry!” Matthew squeaked, burrowing into Berwald's arms with a sob.
“No!” Soren hissed as his anger seeped into the word, Matthew flinching into Berwald's chest. Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, Soren waved Tino out of his way, standing and moving to Berwald's side, resting his hand on Matthew's shoulder. “No, Baby Bear, it's not your fault. You did nothing.”
Matthew shook his head wildly, and Soren knew he was blaming himself for Dad's death and Arthur's insanity. Like it was his fault Arthur wanted to fuck his eleven-year-old son in the name of their dead mother.
And nothing Soren said would convince him otherwise.
Soren had never hated Arthur more than he did at that moment, but he forced the feeling down, wrapping his arms around Berwald until Matthew was pressed between them. “We love you, Baby Bear,” he whispered, his throat hoarse with subdued emotion. “More than anything.”
“Mm-hmm.” Berwald nodded, resting his head against Soren's. “N'ver gonna stop lovin' ya.”
“Love you, Matt” Emil's voice was low, his cheeks red as he joined the pile, leaning his head against Matthew's side.
“Always,” Lukas draped himself over Emil, prompting a short whine of protest, “Love you always, Matthew.”
“Hey!” Tino jumped off the bed, dragging Eduard along with him until he launched himself at the group hug. “We love Matt too.”
Eduard approached more slowly, a sad smile on his lips as he fixed his glasses. “Love you, Matt,” he whispered, leaning against Soren as he reached his arm in to hold Matthew's hand.
Matthew sniffled, trying not to cry. “... love you.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.
This was their family, their home. Seven hurting boys and the memory of a loving father and dad.
They needed each other. Nothing more, nothing less.
But they couldn't mope over Matthew forever.
Smirking, Soren shifted his weight and pushed, shoving the pile of tangled bodies onto the bed before leaping on top. “Did I ever tell you about the time Dad tried to catch Arthur's imaginary friends?”
“Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're imaginary.”
“Do you have imaginary friends, Lukas?” That was Tino's innocent voice, and gods only knew if he was genuinely curious or just trying to get a rise out of Lukas, but Soren laughed anyway, accepting the fist Lukas slammed against his shoulder without complaint.
“Anyway, Dad was pregnant with the twins, as big as a whale, and he got it into his head that Arthur was hiding something from him...” Soren watched his family as he told the story, managing to make them all laugh – even if he had to tickle them to do it.
Later they would think about escape, how to best leave Arthur alone with his delusions, but tonight, tonight was for family.
In the morning, Matthew was gone.
** Any questions? I'm still working on the universe, so if it's not clear what's going on, feel free to ask. I'm hoping nobody seems too OOC – Matthew may come over as too childish or too mature depending on the situation, but he's an eleven-year-old who's been locked away in a castle and coddled by his brothers since birth, and that's gotta mess him up a little.
Dear lord, this was gorgeous. I can't explain it to say that you sketched the characters and infused just those few lines with so much history and life, that there's clearly so much detail in there that isn't said. You said...everything that needed saying, I guess. It was lovely.
You know that little voice that tells people to stop and think before starting a dozen new stories without finishing the dozen+ they have in the works already... I don't have one anymore. Some warnings, non-con incestuous molestation, possibly OOC!Norway, violence, and insanity. **
A silent gesture ensured that the sleeping boys lumped together on a single bed would not wake.
His prize was hidden, buried beneath his two eldest sons, the familiar face – if somewhat younger than he remembered – peaceful in sleep.
For so long he had tried not to see, hating the face that had been stolen, the child that had taken his love and yet stood as a constant reminder.
How foolish he had been.
So very foolish, for his love's beauty was unique, and it shone in the child.
And after so long, he could not bear to be without it another moment.
**
Lukas was the first to wake, prone as he was to rising with the sun. He liked to use the mornings to hone his gift without having to worry about curious brothers interfering and accidentally getting hurt – Soren had been more annoying than usual for the two months it took for his hair to grow back properly after he'd ambushed Lukas in the middle of target practice.
This morning, however, Lukas was trapped between Soren and Eduard, with Emil drooling on his hair and Tino's legs draped over his stomach – Tino's torso was bent over the edge of the bed in what looked to be a fairly painful position.
“It is too early for this,” Lukas grumbled to himself, kicking Soren off the bed. He snorted as Soren yelped, served him right for making fun of the Trolls.
Imaginary friends, indeed.
The strangled cry that was obviously Berwald was not expected, and Lukas rolled himself over (pulling his hair out from beneath Emil's face) to find the largest of his brothers sprawled out on the floor beneath Soren, gasping for breath and looking as though someone had tried to murder him. As Soren seemed to have landed head-first on his stomach, Lukas didn't really blame him
“Sorry,” Lukas offered.
“S'okay,” Berwald gasped, shoving Soren off of him roughly.
“What the hell?” Soren didn't seem to be entirely awake, not moving from where Berwald had shoved him, but he was obviously annoyed. “Why does he get an apology? I'm the one you pushed off the bed.”
Lukas just raised an eyebrow.
“Wha' time 's it? Emil yawned, as Eduard rolled over and latched himself onto Tino's leg.
The twins could sleep through anything.
“Too damn early,” Soren griped, sitting up and stretching. “No thanks to Firehands, there.”
There was no venom in his words though, only a muted sort of affection.
Lukas smirked, the closest he came to a grin. “I thought you wanted to get out of here today.”
The words set a damper over the brothers, a reminder of their Father and his insane obsession.
“Where's Matt?” Berwald was sitting up, rising to his feet as though the floor was on fire when he saw the only four occupants of the bed.
Shoving Tino to the foot of the bed, Lukas sat up as well, adrenaline beginning to surge through his body.
Matthew wasn't on the floor.
Nor was he on any of the other beds.
He was gone.
Berwald was shouting at Soren, Soren was shouting back, Eduard had finally woken and was shaking Tino awake and blinking at the chaos while Emil leaned against the headboard and clutched his knees to his chest.
And Lukas gathered the energy within him and sent a surge of it to his closed eyes, something he'd taught himself to do the first time Matthew had hidden far too well during a game of Find the Rabbit. The memory brought an ache to his chest – Matthew was their baby, their heart, and if Father took that innocence away from him...
If Father hurt Matthew that way for any reason, he would no longer be Lukas' father.
Opening his eyes, Lukas winced at the bright colors. The Magic he'd done to his eyes allowed them to see the energies around people, to trace where they had been, but his brothers' energies were so strong and so entwined that it was hard to tell where Matthew's auburn trail began and ended. Squeezing his eyes shut, Lukas slid off the bed, feeling his way to the door.
“Lukas?”
“Do you know where Matt is?”
“Luk?”
“Don't follow me! Not yet,” Lukas warned, keeping his eyes shut as he fixed the red-brown color that was his baby brother's in his mind. “I can find Matthew, but I have to focus and I can't do that with you around.”
Soren shouted some protest, but Berwald cut him off.
“Ya can't face Fath'r alone.”
Sighing, Lukas nodded. “You can follow me, but not too close.”
Then he shut the door behind him and opened his eyes once more, automatically filtering out the older, stale colors to find the fresh auburn hue engulfed in a sickly green.
Father.
Lukas had hoped it might have simply been Matthew wandering off on his own, but a part of him knew that Matthew wouldn't have gone anywhere without at least one of them, especially after last night.
Father had taken Matthew.
Tapping on the door, Lukas stalked down the hallway after the trail, his fire surging into his hands, just waiting to be used.
Behind him, he could hear his brothers footsteps, though they were thankfully quiet.
Lukas needed to think, to plan, because for all his insanity, Father had once been the greatest mage in the Kingdom, trained by the best from all over the world so he could defend his kingdom. Lukas, with his self-taught spells and his lack of experience, had no chance in a direct fight.
Stepping through a wall of magic that sent shivers down his spine, Lukas froze. Where there had been silence only moments before, there was now a desperate cry for help.
“Bear!” The cry was shrill, a child's high voice raised in terror. “Father, no! Bear, please! Soren! Lukas! Please, I'm scared-”
And then it stopped, the cry ending in a strangled yelp.
“Matt.” Berwald had stepped through the sound barrier just in time to hear the final plea. Matthew was calling for him.
Lukas knew before it happened that any chance for secrecy was gone, as Berwald ran past him, throwing himself against the door to Father's rooms until it cracked beneath his strength.
As the door fell, the others joined them, their eyes met with a horrible sight.
Matthew was crying, the sound muffled by a gag as Fath- Arthur! - knelt over him, hands moving across Matthew's bare skin. Matthew's clothes were strewn across the floor, his bound arms trapped beneath him as he struggled against Arthur's strength.
Arthur didn't even look up as they forced their way in, his voice low and dark as he spoke to the sobbing child beneath him. “I've missed you, my love.”
“Matt!” It was hard to tell who was the first to leap forward as both Soren and Berwald grabbed Arthur and threw him to the floor. Soren followed him down, lashing out with his fists, as Berwald went to Matthew's side, lifting him from the bed.
“I'm here,” Berwald's voice cracked as he tore away the gag and untied the bonds holding Matthew's arms back. “I'm here, Matt.” The moment he was able, Matthew clung to his savior as hard as he could, sobbing and sniffling into Berwald's shoulder.
Lukas stood by the door, holding back Emil and the twins, not wanting to risk anything until he knew whether Arthur would distinguish between son and foe.
If Arthur truly believed that Matthew was Alfred, he might not care that they were his sons as well. If he no longer cared that they were his sons, Arthur would do everything he could to keep them from stealing him away.
And insanity had not taken away his strength.
Lukas felt the surge of magic the moment before Arthur released it. “Get back! Soren! Berw-!” And then he was slammed against the wall, barely able to breath as the magic pressed against him. Fighting to keep his eyes open, Lukas could see Berwald clutching Matthew, shielding him from Arthur's rage, his shirt damp with blood as the magic seemed to sense Arthur's obsession and attacked more viciously. Soren was unconscious, his head looked to have been smashed into the stone fireplace, a trickle of blood visible from where Lukas was.
“You took him from me!” Arthur's eyes were black, his hand outstretched towards Berwald, releasing the pressure on Lukas and the others to focus all of his power on the man he saw as trying to steal away his Queen. “All of you, you took him from me! But he came back! He came back for me, and I won't let you take him again!”
Berwald screamed, his flesh torn to ribbons beneath the magic, but he didn't let go of Matthew.
“No!!!” Tino ran forward before Lukas or Eduard could catch him. “No, please, Father! Please, we're your sons! Please, you don't want to do this!”
“I have no sons.”
As Tino went flying into the wall, Lukas closed his eyes and focused his magic, sighing in relief when Tino hit the wall as though it was a soft pillow. He would be bruised, but he would survive.
Eduard ran to Tino's side, cradling his twin against his chest as he trembled with fear and relief.
Gesturing for Emil to help Eduard get Tino out of the room before Arthur turned on them directly, Lukas straightened.
“You're right.” He sent a fireball straight at Arthur, drawing his attention. The flame was extinguished almost immediately, but Berwald wasn't screaming anymore and those angry dark eyes were fixed on Lukas. “We're not your sons anymore.”
Arthur laughed. “A child mage? You think you can stand against me?” He snapped his fingers, the resulting wave of magic nearly sending Lukas into the wall – only the summoning of a barrier slowed the wave down so that it only pushed him back a few feet.
“You'd be surprised, Arthur,” Lukas drawled. “I've been studying for years, every spellbook, every journal, everything related to magic I could find, in the hopes that I could make you proud of me. It didn't work, because you've been so wrapped up in your grief that you never noticed any of us. You just kept us here to remind you of your pain, to remind you that it was your gift that killed your Queen-”
Three blades of air came flying at Lukas, and he blocked two, only to have the third one catch his leg, drawing blood. “YOU DARE!”
“Lukas!” There was a barrier over the entrance, shimmering as Emil pressed his hand against it. They wouldn't be escaping the way they'd came. Berwald had joined them, hunched over Matthew as he leaned against the wall for support, and across the room Lukas could hear Soren beginning to stir.
Arthur took advantage of Lukas' distraction, throwing him at the clustered boys and sending them crashing into the barrier and the wall around it.
“Guardians of Earth and Stone, come to my aid.” Lukas whispered, groaning as he struggled to rise. His blood had been spilt, and that along with the ritual words would be enough to call the Trolls to him.
They were not aggressive creatures, and he had hoped not to draw them into this fight, but now that luxury had been taken from him. Arthur was out for blood, and Lukas would use every resource he had to defend his brothers.
With luck, it would not be too late.
“Protect us!”
Arthur was chanting, his power surging across the room – not pressing against them as before, but wrapping itself around each individual, tearing a screaming Matthew away from Berwald as the magic grew stronger and stronger.
Pain.
“Protect-” Lukas gasped out as he doubled over, his insides feeling like they were boiling beneath the skin. “-my brothers!”
He wasn't the only one affected, Soren was groaning and Tino was crying and there was so much pain that he couldn't think, couldn't breath.
And over it all, he heard Arthur's triumphant laughter. “I won't let them take you, love! We'll be together forever!”
And then there was nothing.
** Please don't poke the plotholes, they might return the favor.
OP: Thank you so much! I used to be very much a “Mathias” person for Den, just because I'd seen it used the most, and then I tried to write a Vinland story and it got way too confusing way too fast, so now I stick with Soren. It is a lovely name. :) I've been doing pretty well at getting this story to move, so I should be able to update every week, at least until I start work and school again. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
LovelyAnon: Thank you! Your comment gave me tingly happy feelings, and very much made my day. :)
AU!Anon: Thanks! I had that problem once – I solved it by reading more AU's. :p
Please excuse my poor attempt to write an eleven-year-old. **
“NOOOOO!!”
Matthew sobbed and screamed, throwing himself against the invisible wall that trapped him on the bed. “Bear!” Out of all of his brothers, Berwald was the one he was the closest to, and to know that he was hurt because of Matthew, to know that all of his brothers were writhing on the floor because they had tried to rescue him, made Matthew want to curl up into a little ball and hide.
But they had fought for him, had tried to save him, and he could do no less.
“Stop it!” Matthew shrieked until his throat was hoarse, hating himself for their pain. “Stop it! Please, Father!”
And then Father's laughter stopped, his dark gaze fixed on Matthew for a moment, and Matthew couldn't speak as terror filled his soul.
“I'm doing this for you, my love.”
“No!” His brothers were being tortured because of him. “No, please!”
Because Father wanted him.
“A-Arthur,” Matthew pleaded, drawing upon all of the stories Soren and Berwald liked to tell about the bright Queen – a man who would not have let his sons die like this. His skin crawled at the light in Father's eyes, but he forced himself to continue. If Father would not stop for his son, he might listen to his husband. “Please, Arthur, l-love. They're mine.”
“They tried to keep us apart, dearest.” The look Father gave him was pained, almost hurt. “I can't let them live to try it again.”
“I know.” They had tried to save him. He could only do the same. Putting on his most innocent face, Matthew pressed his hand to the barrier. “But they're still mine. Please don't hurt them, please, please.... ” Tears flowed freely down Matthew's cheeks, hoping Father would believe him. “I- I'll stay, F- Arthur. I won't let them take me again, just don't hurt them!”
“You always were too kind,” Father mused, his gaze growing soft. “Very well.”
A flick of Father's wrist and the screaming stopped, but only for a moment.
When it started up again, it was accompanied by the sight of his brother's bodies shrinking contorting, shrinking and twisting, sprouting bloody feathers from their skin.
They were being changed.
“Arthur!”
“It's for the best, love,” Father smiled as though to reassure Matthew. “I will not risk losing you again.”
Trembling and rubbing at the raw skin where his wrists had been torn by the bonds, Matthew could only watch through teary eyes.
This was because of him.
Emil – the youngest and smallest save for Matthew – was the first to complete the change, lying still beneath his clothes in a puddle of blood and bits of feather. Father reached out, lifting the limp form of a young, silver swan into the air. He held it carelessly in one hand to examine it, oblivious to Matthew's distress, when something caught his attention.
“What are you doing here?” Father sounded more curious than annoyed, looking into the air as though he could see something Matthew couldn't, Emil's limp body forgotten in his hands.
Lukas' voice echoed in the air, Come to my aid. Protect us. Protect my brothers.
“That brat had a contract!?” Matthew might have laughed at his father's outraged expression, except that Emil was in danger, Father's anger prompting him to forget his promise and throw the small body at the wall with all his might.
Wincing in expectation of the death of his brother, Matthew sagged against the barrier, relief stealing away his strength as the swan slowed and slid into what seemed like cradled arms, nothing more than glimmers of shadow and light in the air. One by one, his brothers were lifted into the air, held gently in unseen arms before vanishing into nothingness.
They would be safe.
Something pounded against the barrier around Matthew, one of the invisible saviors Lukas had called, unable to reach him. Father sent a wave of something that had the Being screaming, retreating from the barrier.
“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!” Father shrieked, his face red and his expression twisted with greed and anger.
“Keep them safe.” Matthew pressed against the rippling barrier, whispering his sacrifice. “Don't let them come back for me.”
He fought back selfish tears of pain and fright, still able to taste Father's clammy lips against his, still feeling the rough hands that had touched him in places no one was allowed to touch him.
Father was all wrong, and Matthew could only imagine how bad it would be without his brothers there to stop him.
But this was all his fault.
“Tell them I love them.”
It was always his fault.
And then the bed was wrenched off the floor, sending Matthew tumbling against the barrier.
“NO!” Father screamed, banishing the barrier and pulling Matthew to him with a surge of magic. “He's mine! You can't have him!!”
It wasn't Father's arms that caught him. Instead, Matthew found himself plucked from the air and enveloped in strong arms, unnaturally large and hairy to the touch, but generating a protective warmth that had him curling into the sensation.
“Why-” Why hadn't the strange beings left him behind? Why had they faced Father's magic for him? Why did they seem to think he was worth protecting?
PROTECT MY BROTHERS!
The familiar voice echoed in Matthew's ears, bringing tears to his eyes as the world spun around him.
Lukas had saved him.
**
Matthew was set down on cold dirt in a darkened cave, surrounded by six unconscious swans in, their feathers skewed and bloody. Two of the swans were huge, apparently full-grown. Three of them were smaller, roughly the same size as Matthew's torso, and the smallest silver one – Emil, Matthew reminded himself – was hardly bigger than his head.
His brothers.
Wiping away his tears, Matthew shivered, looking up at the closest shimmer in the air. “Thank you.” As Matthew bowed his head in gratitude, the shimmer moved closer, the feeling of a large, strangely shaped hand patting the top of his head gently. Images appeared in Matthew's mind as the Being touched him.
Safe here. It seemed to say, filling his head with a warm reassurance. Safe now.
And then it was gone.
Matthew swiveled around, hoping to catch sight of another Being, another shimmer. But they were either completely gone, or hiding more thoroughly than before, and Matthew quickly gave up the search.
He didn't want to be alone – already Father's insane eyes were beginning to stare at him from the back of his mind, laughing and touching and- Matthew cut the thought off before he lost himself completely, trembling and swallowing down the bile that rose up in his throat.
He couldn't think about it.
He had to be strong, like Berwald, and just keep moving.
He needed to do something, to keep himself too busy to think.
Gently, like lifting the most delicate of ornaments, Matthew lifted the smallest swan – silver-feathered Emil – into his arms, not caring that the blood smeared against his skin. The quick beat of the swan's heart against his hands was reassuring, and with careful, shaking fingers, Matthew began to card through the horribly mussed feathers. There was very little he could do about the blood, he had no cloth to wipe it away nor any water to wash it off, but he could make his swan-brothers as comfortable as possible.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered as he finished with Emil's grooming, laying the unconscious swan beside him to rest. “I'm so sorry.”
Never before had he wished so strongly to have never been born. Without him, Dad – a man he knew only through stories – would have lived, Father would not have gone insane, and his brothers would not have been tortured and turned into swans.
Scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, Matthew tried to ignore his self-loathing, the tiny voice in the back of his head scolding him in Berwald's deep, clipped words. Not yer fault, Matt. Ya didn't ask t' be born.
All of his brothers had told him those words in various forms so many times, but Matthew couldn't bring himself to believe them.
Especially not now.
But, though the blame did lie with him, blame would do nothing for his brothers, so Matthew forced himself to keep working, to do all he could for them. To keep his thoughts off of everything but helping his brothers.
Moving on to the large swan with bright, sunshine yellow feathers – undeniably Soren – Matthew wasn't strong enough to lift the heavy bird, instead kneeling beside it as he began picking his fingers carefully through the tangled feathers, trying not to cry as his fingers brushed a deep gash over Soren's eyes.
Next was one of the medium-sized swans, with sandy-yellow feathers and only a few black marks on its wings. Matthew knew it was one of the twins, as it was nearly identical to another of the three medium swans, but he couldn't tell which one. But Matthew groomed both of them, wiping away as much of the blood as he could with his hands in an effort to find some difference.
There was none as far as he could tell.
When he finally gave up, he moved on to Lukas – for there was no one else the pale bird could be – pressing a gentle kiss to the dark beak before he began to run his fingers through his feathers. Lukas had saved him, had saved them all from Father's anger.
“Thank you,” Matthew breathed into the air. “Thank you, Lukas.”
Beneath his fingers, Lukas stirred, wings fluttering and beak clacking. Matthew pulled away, suddenly aware that he didn't know whether his brothers' minds had been transformed as well.
Would Lukas still know him?
The sharp beak and dagger-like claws that had seemed no more dangerous than Berwald's stern face made Matthew wary as he watched the bird shake out its feathers and struggle awkwardly to its feet, head darting back and forth to take in their surroundings.
Did he remember Father changing him?
And then it looked up, and dark eyes, round like small, black marbles met Matthew's gaze. They seemed empty, as the bird continued to stare at Matthew, but there was no way of knowing how much of that was the swan and how much was just Lukas being Lukas.
“Please.” He needed it to be Lukas more than he could fully comprehend.
Behind them, he could hear the honking and rustling as more of his brothers woke, but Matthew couldn't bring himself to look away, his heart beginning to crack more and more with each moment that Lukas didn't show some sign of the human he had been, even as he moved closer on unsteady legs.
Closer and closer, as Matthew tried not to tremble in fear, his eyes squeezing shut. He did not want to see the swan that had been Lukas as it lashed out.
The brush of a cool, smooth beak touched his cheek, light and quick, and Matthew's eyes flew open to catch a glimmer of worry in small black eyes. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the bird – around Lukas! - and weeping with relief.
Lukas-swan wrapped his neck over Matthew's shoulder, and for a moment everything was okay.
His brothers were not gone, merely changed.
Matthew wasn't alone.
The other swans were crowding them, brushing Matthew with wing-tips and beaks, and one by one Matthew hugged them, joyful tears still rolling down his cheeks. He wasn't alone. He was safe.
Only when they had all calmed down did Matthew realize that two of his brothers had not joined in the swan-and-boy pile. Berwald had not moved at all, still laying on the ground, with Soren standing over him and honking as he looked to Matthew for help that a swan couldn't give.
“Bear?” Matthew jumped to his feet to cross the short distance faster, falling to his knees at Berwald's side without thought. All of his attention was fixed on the large swan, and as he bent over his dearest brother, Matthew saw the large burnt-black patch of feathers along his back and the crooked tilt of one long wing.
His fingers hovered over the black feathers, his arms aching where Berwald had held him so tight, so safe, against the torrent of Father's magic.
Berwald had come for him.
Father had hurt him, and he had been so afraid. Matthew had been so scared, but Berwald had heard his cries and swept him into his arms, tearing away the knot that had bound his wrists so tight, and protecting him from Father's rage.
Berwald had been hurt because of him.
And there was nothing Matthew could do for him. Not when Matthew had no water to clean the wounds, no cloth to bandage them, and no stick to set his broken wing.
So Matthew cradled Berwald's long neck in his lap, recalling the words that Berwald had sung in his rough voice whenever Matthew woke from a nightmare, and he sang, tears flowing down his cheeks as he wished so desperately that Berwald would wake up.
Closing his eyes as he lost himself in the gentle tune, Matthew didn't notice the light that began to emanate from his hands.
** I'm having so much fun with this story!
LovelyAnon: Thank you! I'm not much for action, so I'm glad I managed to get that scene right. I've never been one for replying to Anons with numbers. Even if I have to pull a name out of my hat. XD
OP: I am so glad you're enjoying this! Don't worry about me worrying – at this point in time, I have literally nothing to do but write and I love writing. I'm out of school for the first time in years, and I won't have anything to do until I get called in for work and school starts again – in at least two more weeks. :D Though, update speed may slow down after that if I don't get any further ahead by then.
I've got work in 4 hours, and I really wanted to post this before I go to bed, so apologies in advance for any mistakes. Warnings for child nudity, magic, and swan violence (aka Finland). **
“Nooo!!” The anguished cry broke the silence, as a king fell to his knees, outstretched arms folding in on themselves.
His love was gone.
Snatched from his very fingertips.
As rage overtook his grief, the king's eyes sharpened, his gaze falling upon a pair of abandoned spectacles. He would find his queen.
The brats that had stolen him away for the second time would regret it. He would not underestimate them again. He could not kill them, not after the heartfelt pleas of his youthful love, but he would make them live to regret their defiance.
And he would have his queen back in his arms once more.
The smile that crossed his lips as he lifted the bloody wire and glass from the floor was frightening.
**
At nine years of age, Berwald had known love at first sight.
Sneaking into the Queen's chambers with Soren to see Dad's body, his eyes had fallen upon the abandoned cradle. The cradle where his newest baby brother lay, still bloody and wrapped in a loose blanket, forgotten in the chaos of the Queen's death.
He'd fallen in love at the first sight of lonely violet eyes that seemed to brighten to see him. At the first quiet burble of a newborn's voice.
That night, he'd fallen in love, and he'd never fallen out again.
Matthew had become his, as surely as if Berwald had born him.
And like any mother, Berwald would have died for his child. For his little Matthew.
His only fear as he shielded Matthew from the rage of Arthur's magic was that he would not be strong enough to save his littlest brother. That Arthur would kill him and steal Matthew from his corpse.
And then Matthew had been ripped from his weakened embrace, his fear brought to life, and the pain had overcome him.
Berwald had failed to protect Matthew.
“-a golden cradle holds thee, soft as snow-white fleece unfolds thee.”
Warmth surrounded him.
“Hush my darling hush be still, the world is silent and sleeping.”
A soft touch and a gentle voice humming like an echo in his mind.
...Matthew.
“Matt?” Berwald had tried to ask, though it came out as a strange sound like a poorly played trumpet.
Surely he was in hell, damned to be reminded of his failure for eternity.
The trumpet sound was repeated, echoed and strengthened over and over all around him as it twined together with words Berwald couldn't quite make out, echoing just out of reach, the warmth growing stronger, seeping beneath his skin until he could feel it humming inside of him.
“Bear?” Matthew's voice was choked and hoarse. “Please wake up, Bear! Please, I need you.”
Berwald had never been able to deny Matthew anything, and the desperation in Matthew's voice pulled so hard at his heartstrings that it was like a physical pain.
Opening his eyes, Berwald's vision was blurry and dim, but it was Matthew's face above him, though he could barely make out the violet eyes widened in shock.
“Bear?” Then Matthew was hugging him, the deep penetrating warmth vanishing to be replaced by Matthew's own warmth – how was Matthew bigger than him? “Oh, Bear, I'm so sorry! I never wanted you to be hurt!” Matthew was crying, sobbing desperately against him.
“No, Matt.” More bad trumpeting, pain flowing through his arm as he tried to raise it. The other arm didn't hurt, but it wouldn't work the way he wanted. His fingers... where were his fingers? Berwald wanted to tell Matthew to stop crying, to brush away his tears and hold him close, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but curl his head around Matthew's neck, trying not to think about how long his own neck felt.
What was happening?
What had Arthur done to him?
** Matthew's hands had been glowing..
It wasn't as shocking as it might have been if Tino hadn't just been changed into a water fowl, complete with webbed feet and wings that had taken him a few moments to get used to, but it was still Matthew, their baby, who had never shown any inclination towards magic before...
But if the swan in his arms was Berwald than it was no wonder that whatever powers Matthew might have would manifest now, the light flowing through Berwald's body as it had before he'd woken up.
Though all seven brothers were close, Tino couldn't deny that he was closer to his twin than any of their brothers, and in the same way, Matthew was close to Berwald.
Berwald, who was the closest thing to a mother that Matthew had ever known.
And Matthew had been trapped in his arms, forced to listen as he screamed, as Father tortured him because he would not let Matthew go.
A sudden warmth at Tino's side distracted him from the sight and his own depressing thoughts. Eduard – because there were some things that could not be lost so easily, and a twin's bond was one of them – was pressing up against him, preening gently at his neck feathers comfortingly.
Never before had Tino been so grateful that words were not needed between them, leaning into the touch as the reality of the situation sank in.
Father had done this to them. Father had cast them aside so easily, so carelessly, in his insanity.
Burying his face in Eduard's feathers, Tino shuddered, unable to escape the breath-stealing sensation of being thrown against the wall, the shock of having his Father turn against him so violently.
And then the pain... the pain that Tino had been sure would kill him.
“Is there someone- oh.” It was a man's voice, thoughtful and quiet. “Hello there.”
Hardly daring to move, and feeling Eduard tense beneath him, Tino's melancholy was lost in the sudden rush of panic. He could hear the nervous rustling of feathers from his siblings, but it was the quiet whimper from Matthew set him into motion.
“Leave us alone!”
Screeching and flapping his wings, Tino threw all of his fear and anger into the defense of his family, striking out at the stranger viciously. He could barely remember a time outside of the fortress Father had hidden them away in, and in all the time locked away, he had never once seen another living person.
Father had said it was to protect them, because people would hurt them if they could.
And now, with Father's betrayal still fresh, Tino did not dare risk Matthew, or any of his brothers on the chance that this unknown man would not hurt them.
He couldn't let them be hurt again.
“Tino!”
Instinctively, Tino went still. The shrill honk rang with Soren's voice, crisp and sharp in the way that demanded obedience.
“I meant no harm, Master Swan.” The man was on the ground, arms scratched and bleeding where he had defended his face, but his voice remained calm, his dark eyes warm as they met Tino's frightened gaze. “Your child is safe here.”
Trying to deny that he had done this, Tino tried speaking, desperate for help. “Please, Soren, I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I'm scared...”
He felt like a child again, helpless and afraid in the face of the unknown.
“Tino.” Eduard pressed himself close, burrowing into Tino's wings. He didn't make another sound, just resting against Tino, his heartbeat a steady rhythm.
“It's going to be alright, Tino.” Soren's voice was steady as he came to stand with Tino. “We're all here together. And no one will touch Matthew so long as we're still here.” Soren hissed as the stranger stood up, fluttering his wings sharply in warning.
“You are a lucky child,” The man was talking again, looking past Tino and Soren to Matthew, “to have such stalwart defenders.”
A glance back showed Matthew curled around Berwald, Lukas and Emil standing in front of the duo protectively. Matthew's eyes were visible, peeking over Berwald's feathers, curious and wary as he eyed the man.
It was obvious that he didn't know what to think.
The man was rather strange-looking, very brown, with tanned skin and ragged brown hair that fell to his chin and green eyes that seemed to smile. To Matthew, who barely even knew that there was a world beyond his family, he must have seemed almost fae.
“Wha's goin' on?” The sound of Berwald's voice tore Matthew's attention away from the man, though Tino was almost certain Matthew couldn't understand the words beneath the ragged swan sound.
Berwald's head was turning, his good wing fluttering nervously, but his beady eyes didn't seem to focus, passing over the man and the swans alike.
“Berwald....” Lukas nudged him, obviously startling him. “Can you see at all?”
It was almost funny how talkative Berwald was, but Tino drew in a harsh breath as he realized what was happening. Berwald's eyesight hadn't changed with his body, only now he had no spectacles. And without them, Berwald was all but blind.
“Bear!” Matthew was growing visibly agitated, no doubt imagining pain in each panicked sound. “Don't leave me. I need you! I don't- I need you, Bear!”
It was Emil that approached Matthew, silent save for the rustle of his wings, stretching his neck up to caress Matthew's tear-stained cheek with his beak reassuringly. The former 'baby' of the family, Emil had always loved being able to play the big brother to Matthew, and he didn't seem to mind the way Matthew pulled him close with the hand that wasn't clutching at Berwald.
“I can help.” The quiet offer brought silence to the cave, as all of the brothers stared at the stranger. “Your Bear, he's hurt, right? I'm a healer, and I'm used to working with animals.”
“Who's that'?”
Berwald's question was overshadowed by an outburst from Matthew. “You can help him?” Matthew jumped up to stand over Berwald, not seeming to care that he was naked, eyes wide and fingers clenched in desperation as he ignored Emil's attempts to pull him back down. “Please, would you? I think his wing is broken, and F-Father did something awful to him that made his feathers all black and burnt.”
“I will do what I can,” the man promised, looking around the cave with a wry smile, “if your companions will allow me to see this Bear.”
Tino hissed, but he didn't stand, nuzzling closer to Eduard. Soren backed away, dark eyes watching the stranger carefully as he screeched a warning.
“Touch Matthew and die.”
Berwald was trying to stand, his good wing fluttering awkwardly, as his useless eyes flitted about the room. “Tell m' what's happ'nin'! Who's there? Where's Matt?”
“A stranger. He's going to tend your wounds. I think we're safe – the trolls wouldn't have brought us here if there was danger nearby – but we're going to keep him away from Matthew, just in case. The rest of us can take care of ourselves.”
Tino could have sworn he saw a smirk in Lukas' eyes as he stretched his wings and clacked his beak almost lazily. Well, if they had to be birds, at least they were birds that could do some real damage if they had to.
** -Lullaby is taken from Seal Maiden: A Celtic Musical.
-Just in case it's not clear, the swans can talk to each other, but to Matt and other humans, it just sounds like honking.
Please tell me what you think. I ended up rewriting this chapter a few times, because I could not get it right. I'm still not sure it's as good as I would like, but I'm ready to move on.
Lovely!Anon: Oh yes, they're free. And Swans are scary! Especially if they have reason to believe you're a threat.
OP: Thanks! They're safe, for now. *evil smile* I hope you continue to enjoy!
--Can I just add that I love DW's character limits!!--
This took forever... I blame Herakles. I've never written him before, and I'm pretty sure I got him all wrong, but I am done. --If I did get him wrong, feel free to tell me how you think I could have done him better.-- Anyway, on with the story. **
The dark room filled with fog, the flickering torches sustained only by the spells that kept them burning. In the center of the room, a bloody circle was marked on the floor, with a large basin of water placed inside of it.
The lone figure kneeling beside the circle lowered a pair of spectacles into the basin, bent and twisted as they were, they were still a personal item that had been owned long enough to create a connection with their owner. He would find the brats – the demons - that had used him, that had masqueraded as his sons for so long.
The demons that had used his husband, his Queen, as their vessel into this world, and then stolen away his life in return. The demons that had taken advantage of his grief to live like princes, never lacking for anything, all the while hiding his reborn Queen beneath his very nose.
“Show me!”
The fading ripples in the basin twisted and swirled, as an image formed over the top. The demon that had refused to relinquish his Queen visible, made obvious by the dark burns though they were smeared with salve. The demon was moving, touching his Queen, and a deep rage sent a wave of magic through the room that had all the torches flaring high.
Tears or no, the demon would pay. Slowly and painfully, until it begged for an end.
With the scene still playing in the basin, Arthur began a new spell, one that would find his stolen Queen.
**
Herakles was no stranger to the strange and supernatural. His mother had been a witch, and his father, though Herakles had never known him, had been a High Elf, and their union had granted him more than a few gifts.
Even disregarding his heritage, Herakles had been raised in this forest, amidst the otherkin that claimed it as their home, helping his mother to make the remedies and talismans she sold to human and otherkin alike.
This was, however, the first time he'd come across such an unusual situation, much less in his own backyard.
A small child, naked and covered in blood, protected by a number of savage looking birds – Herakles could feel the burn of the scratches beginning to heal on his arms, and he knew from the strength of the small swan's attack that he was lucky not to have broken any bones.
He was even more lucky that it had been one of the smaller swans that had launched itself at him – had the full-grown beast of a bird that had joined it at the entrance way attacked Herakles, he would probably be dead. Not that he begrudged the swans their protectiveness of their boy – given the child's appearance, they had reason to be – only that he preferred not to die just yet.
As it was, Herakles was making his way into what might as well have been a lion's den, moving carefully so as not to startle the birds, acutely aware of the attention they were giving him. The boy watched him with wide eyes, his burst of enthusiasm tamed somewhat as he huddled against the injured swan with a half-grown cygnet at his side.
“What's your name, child?” Herakles kept his voice soft and unthreatening.
For a moment the boy looked surprised, but then he blushed. “ I'm Matthew,” came a soft whisper.
“Matthew. A strong name. I am Herakles.”
It seemed to put the boy at ease somewhat to know Herakles' name, and the tension in his small frame seemed to ease away somewhat.
Slowly, Herakles slipped off his cloak, bending down and holding it out to Matthew. “Here,” he offered, but the boy pulled away. “Aren't you cold?”
A shake of the head was belied by the tint of blue on his lips, but the boy was a stubborn one.
“You said you'd help Bear.”
“I will.” Herakles bit back a smile, seeing the glare in violet eyes. “I just thought you might want some help as well.”
It took one of the swans, nearly full-grown but on the smaller side of the scale with pale feathers the color of sand, to convince Matthew by tugging on the cloth with its beak, though not hard enough to pull it from Herakles' grasp.
“Lukas?”
“I think he wants you to take it.” Herakles gave a light smile. “Go on.”
The cygnet nudged Matthew forward, while the sand-colored swan honked, and together they managed to convince him to step forward until he could grasp the cloak in his small hands. Then he darted away, eyes wide as he pulled the cloak around his shoulders. It was large on him, the hem pooling together, but it covered everything that mattered.
“Now help Bear.” Matthew stood like a little lord, back straight and head high despite the worry and fear that filled his eyes. “Please.”
With a nod, Herakles knelt beside the injured swan, soothing the ruffling of its feathers with one gentle hand. “I'm not going to hurt you, Bear. Your child is worried for you, you know.”
The dark marks across the swan's back were ugly, like scorch marks that melted the feathers. They reeked of dark magic, of hatred and rage, though it seemed to be fading away. As it was, the swan was lucky to be alive, much less conscious, but that he was recovering on his own meant there was little Herakles could do to aid him beyond a salve to ease the pain and cleanse what few remnants lingered beneath the skin.
The wing had a clean break, something he could easily mend with a brace and some bandages, but it was the bits of dry blood that were speckled across every feather that worried him. There was no sign of an injury that would have caused enough of a bleed for it to cover the swan from head to tail, and yet, there was no denying that it was blood.
“What happened to your friend here?”
“He protected me,” Matthew muttered, his hands shaking as he met Herakles' questioning gaze. “Father was going to-” Matthew gagged and fell to his knees, clinging to the cygnet as he trembled. “He was- I-” There were tears in his eyes, but none fell before he buried his face in the feathers.
Beneath Herakles' hands, Bear hissed and struggled, as the swans that had followed Herakles into the cave fluttered their wings and screeched, their cries seeming to calm Bear even as they warned Herakles away from the traumatized boy.
Lukas, the sand-colored swan, joined Matthew, soothing him with gentle brushes of his beak and wing.
Herakles could only watch, not knowing enough about Matthew or the situation to offer comfort, but understanding enough that he was imagining the damage the swans would have done to the one who hurt their child. Perhaps that was where the blood came from.
When Matthew seemed to have recovered, Herakles offered a smile and an invitation. “Come with me.” With careful handling, Herakles lifted the injured swan slowly into his arms, doing his best not to startle him. “I need my things if I'm to care for Bear properly, and you might do well to wash and get some food inside of you.” The beginnings of a protest were cut off. “Your friends can come as well, so long as they don't mind the cats.”
Holding the cloak in place, Matthew stood, cradling the cygnet against his chest, Lukas and the two smaller swans circling him while the large gold swan watched Herakles with a sharp air of protectiveness.
“I'll take care of them,” Herakles found himself reassuring the watchful swan quietly. This was the leader, the one who called off the young attacking swan, and the one who would be the first to strike should harm befall his companions.
The swan hissed, drawing itself up and flaring its wings out in the promise of pain should he do otherwise.
If he had intended harm toward Matthew or the bird in his arms, Herakles might have paled or faltered. As it was, he accepted the warning with a smile and a nod of agreement, moving slowly towards the exit with Bear's weight pulling at his arms, the quiet shuffle of bare feet, human and swan, behind him.
Waiting for Matthew outside of the cave, Herakles offered an encouraging smile when the boy hesitated just inside the entrance.
“Come. My home is just there.” Herakles nodded to the cottage at the other edge of the large clearing. It's a small building, with a little fenced garden visible beside it. It didn't look like much, but it's where he'd lived all his life.
Matthew didn't seem to hear, mouth agape and eyes wide as he stared out over the clearing, seeming to fix his gaze upward on the trees that towered overhead all around them. “Is this a- a woods? Like in the storybooks?”
Had the boy never seen a forest before?
Herakles was kept from voicing the question when Matthew turned to stare at him, the color drained from his cheeks. “Are you a witch?”
“A witch?” Herakles shook his head, forcing down his amusement. “No, child. I am merely a healer.” He could do more than simple healing, but this didn't seem like the time to get into the intricacies of his occupation.
Especially not when the swans seemed to have been agitated by Matthew's questions.
“You won'teatme?” Matthew's voice was so soft, slurred together so fast that Herakles could barely make it out.
“No.” Herakles met Matthew's gaze, his eyes firm and warm. “You're safe with me, you and your friends.”
Really, no self-respecting witch would eat a human child. The powers of a witch often interfered with their reproductive abilities – Herakles' mother had been lucky with him – and one would be far more likely to snatch an unwanted child away to coddle and raise than to boil in a stew.
“Not my friends.” Matthew whispered as he slowly walked from the cave, still encircled by the swans. “They're my brothers.”
Taken aback, though not particularly surprised that the swans had once been human, Herakles nodded. “They must love you very much.”
“They do.” The simple response seemed to shut Matthew down, his face blank and his eyes so full of pain. He didn't speak again, burying his nose in the cygnet's feathers, silently following Herakles across the clearing.
Inside the cottage, Matthew watched in silence as Herakles shooed away several curious kittens to lay Bear down on the rug in front of the cold fireplace, curling up on the floor beside the swan while Herakles dug through his cupboards for the ingredients for the salve he needed. It might have been an amusing sight, such a small child enveloped in his brothers' feathery bodies as the other swans joined him, but Herakles couldn't laugh, deep in foreboding thought.
Human-to-animal transformations were not as easy as the human's tales made them out to be. It took great power, and even greater skill to ensure that it didn't result in some grotesque half-animal, half-man monster. To cast the spell six times... the mage that had cursed them must have been insanely powerful, and that would only make breaking the spell's hold harder.
And Herakles was no expert in spellcraft, relying more on the indirect methods of potions and talismans that were his trade. He'd never needed anything more, never had cause to study spells beyond the basic principles, until now.
With the salve sticky and smooth in the bowl, Herakles knelt beside the rug to apply the paste to the dark burn. Matthew watched him carefully, stroking Bear's head with one hand as he held the cygnet close with the other.
“That'll help him?” Matthew wore an expression of curious distaste, craning his neck to see the green-brown paste.
“It will ease the pain and aid in repelling the remaining dark magic within the wound. He's strong to have fought it off this far, so he should recover fully.”
“Can you change him back into a person?” Matthew looked hesitantly hopeful, wearing a silent plea in wide eyes.
“That is a different matter entirely,” Herakles offered, his heart aching as Matthew's face fell. “I'm no expert on spellcraft, but if you could tell me how the tranformation was accomplished, I can try to find a way to reverse it. Certainly if I can't find one, I may know someone more capable who can.”
With a shiver, Matthew tightened his grip on the cygnet, bolstered by the defensive circle of swans pressed against him, closing his eyes as he began to speak.
“Father- he did this to them because of me.”
** So... Greece. I'm thinking Matthew or Lukas for the next POV switch... at least I know them.
I am still planning for future pairings, OP, if you have any preferences for Matt or his brothers. As of now, I'm still playing with who's who as the story progresses, so don't be afraid to toss out any random pairings so long as they don't involve in-story incest.
OP:I'm so glad you're enjoying this! That would be my secret love for SweCan sneaking through... they're just so cute! There will be angst. I think I'm incapable of writing without angst.
Guessing!anons: That would be Herakles... I'm not sure if I wrote him too calm, but he's not really the type to freak out – unless faced with Turkey.
LA: Matthew is going to have a lot of things he's not used to happen to him. :) Yup, that's Greece. I just hope he stays recognizable.
I am SO sorry! I have no excuses, but I will try to do better in the future. This chapter was just hard because I had a dozen different ways to take it that mark the future of the story. **
A flash of sparks marked the failure of the fifth attempt to discover the location of his Queen, and the King hissed and cursed.
He could see the place somewhat around the image of the wounded demon, but it wasn't enough.
Whatever protections guarded the hovel were strong, strong enough to ward off his search, but they couldn't hold forever. Certainly the ones he searched for couldn't hide there forever.
It was only a matter of time.
Grabbing another spellbook from the bookshelf, he opened it to a stronger location spell, smiling as he felt something before it failed.
He was getting closer.
**
Never before had Lukas felt such white-hot rage flowing through his veins as he did listening to Matthew's stuttered tale of how he had seduced their father to save their lives. Only the fact that he couldn't seem to work magic in this form kept him from shooting off sparks of fire as Matthew curled over Emil and sobbed his apologies for letting them be trapped in swan forms.
It wasn't Matthew's fault Arthur was insane, nor was he to blame for wanting to see his brothers live.
If anything, Lukas was to blame for not summoning the trolls from the very start. If only he'd been faster...
If he hadn't waited, Matthew might not bear yet another unwarranted burden of guilt.
Except that the pain and Matthew's description of watching them writhe on the ground made it sound like Arthur had been using a sapping death spell. If the Trolls had come before Arthur had stopped, it would have taken little more than a thought to complete the process in an instant, leaving nothing but corpses for the Trolls to steal away.
A wave of icy terror flowed down Lukas' spine at the realization of how close they had come to death, and Lukas pressed himself against Matthew's side, wishing he could tell his little brother exactly what he had done – he had saved them, no matter what shape they were bound to now.
Curses could be broken, transformations undone, but life... life could not be rekindled.
“You shouldn't be so quick to take blame,” Herakles' slow voice is calming and free of judgment as he looks up from Berwald's still form – Lukas was fairly certain Herakles had done something to make him sleep before his wing was set. “You didn't know the Trolls would come. Surely you prefer your brothers alive as birds rather than dead as men?”
Shocked into silence, Matthew nodded, his shuddering sobs quieting as he looked up.
“Don't you think they would agree?”
This time, Matthew's nod came slower, but it did come. Soren and Tino screeched their agreement, while Lukas nodded, looking to the healer in muted approval.
He received a quiet look of understanding, a small smile that seemed to accept his own unspoken gratitude.
Herakles was a good man.
The quiet was broken by Eduard, leaping into the air and honking as a tri-colored kitten mewled pitifully from where it had landed, just missing Eduard in its attack. It was smaller than Eduard, but the way it watched him retreat between Matthew and Soren suggested that it really didn't care.
“Pounce....” Herakles scolded half-heartedly.
“That's my brother!” Tino, however, took the apparent threat to his twin very seriously, extending his wings and hissing menacingly at the small cat, frightening it back to the warmth of its mother beneath the bed.
Matthew looked worried, pulling Emil up against his chest – and out of reach of cats.
“I think, young swan,” Herakles began in a stern fashion, though his eyes were bright with supressed laughter, “that you will have to forgive a kitten's curiosity.” To Matthew, who was watching the cats with wary eyes, he reassured, “My cats will not harm a guest in my home, even a bird-shaped one.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes, though your brave warrior here seems ready to fight off threats of any size.”
As if on cue, Tino ruffled his feathers, folding his wings back against his body with an air of seriousness that seemed to dare any kitten to mess with him as he made his way back to Eduard's side.
Matthew giggled.
He was wearing a timid smile, letting a ruffled Emil back down onto his lap. The sight and sound warmed Lukas' heart, enough that he didn't scold Tino for causing a ruckus in their host's home – it wasn't like the cats could do much damage, especially as only the kittens seemed particularly interested in them and even the largest of those was just Emil's size.
After what Matthew had gone through, what they'd all gone through, it was good to see that he could still smile, even covered in blood – their blood, Lukas had realized with mixed relief and horror upon listening to Matthew's tale – and buried beneath Herakles' oversized cloak.
At least he didn't seem to have been too badly hurt in Arthur's hands.
Now they just had to keep it that way.
Arthur wasn't the type to get over things easily. He'd spent eleven years brooding over the loss of his Queen, and he probably could have gone on until he died of old age if Matthew hadn't caught his eye.
Unless something knocked Arthur out of his insanity, Matthew was never going to be safe.
And anyone who interfered would probably not live to regret it.
Watching Herakles stand at the grumble of Matthew's stomach, fetching a bowl from one of the cupboards and filling it with something from a pot on the back of the stove, his every movement slow and deliberate, Lukas felt a prickle of guilt in his chest.
Herakles had no idea of the danger they put him in just by being here, and there was no way to tell him.
“You should eat,” Herakles told Matthew, crouching down and holding out the bowl in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. “It will do you good.”
Reaching out to take the offering, Matthew smiled nervously. “...Thank you.”
Herakles just smiled back, “I'll get you something for your brothers.” At Matthew's confused look, he explained that swans were better off eating fresh vegetables than the stew he was feeding Matthew, before standing and walking out the door.
Matthew looked at his brothers with wide-eyed concern, clutching his bowl against his chest as though it might hurt them just by existing. Likely he had been thinking of sharing it with them.
“It's okay, Baby Bear,” Soren honked, gently bumping his head against Matthew's, causing the tension that lined his body to ease away. Then he nudged the bowl, “Eat.”
Even without understanding what Soren was saying, the actions were obvious enough that Matthew only hesitated for a moment before dipping the spoon into the stew and lifting a bite to his mouth.
When Herakles returned with an armful of fresh produce, Matthew had already consumed half the bowl. He stopped eating to watch Herakles pump water into a bowl to wash the vegetables, chopping carrots and celery into small pieces and ripping the lettuce apart with his fingers. The end product, which was placed in front of Matthew in a large bowl, was a delicious looking salad.
“No meat?” Soren whined quite loudly.
“Soren?” Matthew tensed, obviously worried.
Soren was an idiot.
With careful precision, Lukas gauged the distance and unfurled his wing sharply, cuffing Soren's side with a nonchalant ease he didn't really feel. “Idiot.”
Now Herakles was looking a little worried, but Matthew's gaze was warm and fond. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning anymore either, familiar enough with his brothers to recognize that Lukas wouldn't be rough with Soren if something was actually wrong.
With a nod, Lukas walked to the bowl, gesturing with his bill for Emil and the twins to join him. “Save some for Berwald,” he told them as quietly as he could. “We don't want to inconvenience the healer anymore than necessary.”
Nodding their understanding, all three began to nibble at the leaves, and once Lukas was satisfied that they were actually eating, he joined them, followed not long after by Soren.
When he looked up from the bowl, his stomach pleasantly full, Lukas saw Herakles looking through a number of dark-looking books and found himself torn between staying beside Matthew and joining the healer in searching for a cure.
In the end, he didn't move. It wasn't like he had any more idea of what spell Arthur had used than Herakles. He hadn't been conscious while it was cast, after all. And as fascinating as those books looked, Matthew needed him, his tired gaze darting upward between each bite as though reassuring himself that they were all there alive and accounted for.
Pressing himself into Matthew's side, Lukas curled his neck around to rest his head in Matthew's lap. Who knew how long it would be before Arthur came looking for Matthew? How long would they be allowed to rest before having to run?
If they even managed to run. When Arthur came for Matthew, they wouldn't even have the advantage of surprise, not that it had been surprise that had saved them this time.
Arthur had underestimated Lukas' ability, not expecting a self-taught amateur without experience to have a full contract with the trolls – though really, it had been the faeries Arthur had contracted with to serve in the castle that had given Lukas the idea to even look for contract magic to begin with – but he wouldn't do so again.
Not that it mattered, since Lukas' magic was locked away in this form. He couldn't even summon a gust of warm air, much less anything that might save them from Arthur.
“Matthew,” Herakles interrupted Lukas' thoughts. “You said your brothers were all changed together. Are you absolutely certain that all of them were transformed at the exact same time?”
The gravity in Herakles voice had Matthew clutching at Lukas so tight that he could hardly breath, his bowl abandoned on the floor, while the others tensed, turning to face the healer. “I don't-” Matthew began, hesitating as he stared at Herakles.
“It's important, Matthew.” Despite the obvious tension in the way Herakles held the book laying open before him, he managed to keep his voice level and almost calm as he explained. “If it was six consecutive spells, there will be a different remedy than if it was a single spell working on all of them.”
Matthew nodded his understanding and squeezed his eyes tight in recollection, “I- I think it was just one. They- they all started screa- screaming again at- at the same time. I didn't....” The blood drained from his face as his eyes opened, his body shaking like a leaf.
Lukas stroked Matthew's face with the side of his bill, Emil and Eduard quickly joining him in offering a comforting touch. Berwald moved, as though aware of Matthew's distress, but whatever the healer had done to put him out was strong enough to keep him asleep, with Soren and Tino working to calm his troubled slumber.
There was a look of dismay on the healer's face as he looked back over his book, and Lukas felt a chill go down his spine. Perhaps they would never be returned to their human form-
“I'm afraid I've found the cure, Matthew.” Herakles paused, his fingers pressed down against the pages of the book. His eyes were dark and serious, his lips drawn tightly together.
Matthew didn't seem to notice, eyes alight with hope. “You did?”
“You should know,” Herakles began, “that it is rare for a mage to have the power and the will to cast a multiple transformation spell, but once cast its victims are bound together. You must cure your brothers together, or the spell will solidify and there will be no cure for any of them.”
Lukas nodded absently, his mind going back to his studies. It was a basic law of magic that spells could not be picked apart and undone piece by piece, but try as he might, he couldn't think of anything that would cause the healer to look so foreboding. Then he recalled the matter of emotional output. The rage and hatred Arthur had born towards them when he cast the spell would require the cure to be painful, evidence of a true love for those who could be the objects of such hate.
And because there were six of them, whatever Matthew had to suffer would be six times as painful.
“What is it?” He stumbled to his feet, wings outstretched for balance as he moved quickly across the floor. “What does Matthew have to do?!”
“Lukas!” The others called out in a chorus of honks and whistles, while Matthew reached out for him too late.
“What is it, Lu?” Soren followed him to Herakles side.
“The cure!” Lukas honked, tugging at Herakles shirt to get the man to let him look at the book. Lukas didn't want Matthew knowing how to break the curse before he knew just how much Matthew would have to suffer because Matthew would hide any fear or pain if he thought he could help them. Matthew would sacrifice himself for them without a thought, never thinking that they might not want such a sacrifice. “It will hurt Matthew. All of Father's hatred went into that spell, and Matthew will have to bear the pain six times over to prove that he loves us enough to counteract it!”
** Finally. This is very much a transitional chapter, come next chapter things will start happening.
Right!Anon: Yup. I'm trying for a very fairytale-esque villain in Arthur as he slips deeper and deeper into insanity. :)
OP: I am glad you're enjoying the story. I've always loved fairytales – especially making up my own using the bare bones of the original stories.
For pairings, I've actually done some more thinking about the plot and what's happening in the future for this story. I have something planned for France – I'm not telling what because that would spoil it, but it kind of clashes with making him a romantic interest. Right now I'm debating making Matthew end up with either one of the Asians (most likely Japan) or one of the Germanics (either Germany, Switz, or Liechtenstein). Your opinion would be much appreciated in the decision-making process, even if only to decide which family to use.
Honestly, Matthew's the only one for whom a pairing is a necessity, and I'm still not sure I will pair his brothers at all. But if I do, how do you feel about Lithuania as a partner for Finland or Sweden? And one (or both) of the Italies as a partner for the other? Also, would you be terribly upset if I paired Norway with Greece (after the curse is broken, of course)?
I know you said anything would be fine, but I'd rather double check than put in a pairing that might ruin the story for you. :) Especially since it would almost be easier to simply forgo pairings entirely.
Camper!Anon: Thanks for reminding me that there are people reading this! Otherwise I might have dithered over which plotline to go with for even longer. :) It made me smile to see that someone liked my story so much.
Lovely!Anon: I think I'm the late one here... :) The chaos is going to be spectacular once things get started. :) I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!
I should tell you that, though I have the barest bones of an outline, I'm making most of the details up as I go. And just a warning, this part is going to be a complete angst-fest. Also, you are probably going to hate me when it's over. >D **
“I am coming for you, my love.”
He had finally breached the protections around the hovel that hid his beloved, though it had sapped half his strength. Pausing for a breath of air, the King gathered what remained of his powers, allowing himself only a moment to recover.
There was no time to rest.
His Queen was waiting.
**
“Please, tell me!”
Matthew was only eleven, but he wasn't stupid. His stomach was twisted into knots to know that whatever he would have to do had Lukas screeching like a banshee to keep Herakles from telling him, but Soren's looming presence kept him from going to read the book himself.
“Lukas! Please let him tell me!”
Up on Herakles' desk, Lukas shook his head fiercely. If he hadn't been so reverent toward books, he probably would have torn apart the offending pages.
Tears welled up in Matthew's eyes, his voice failing into broken gasps as he fought to keep from crying. This was his fault, so why wouldn't Lukas let him fix it? Beyond that, they were his brothers. He wanted them back the way they were supposed to be and he would give anything to make it happen.
Soren seemed to be trying to comfort him, making quiet noises and brushing away the tears with his beak, but it wasn't helping. All Matthew could think of was the way Soren had pulled Berwald close only the night before, pressing Matthew into a warm, tight embrace between his two grown-up brothers.
We love you, Baby Bear.
Never gonna stop loving you.
The memory was shattered by the image of Soren bleeding on the ground and Berwald's screams echoing in his ears. Matthew had been helpless against father, and they had paid the price.
He didn't want the last memory he had of his brothers as humans to be their screams.
“Soren,” Matthew whispered into his eldest brother's feathers, so quiet as to not let the others or Herakles hear, wiping away tears with one shaking hand. “Please... I know I got you into this. I know you probably think I'm useless, but I want to help. Wouldn't you want to help if you could? ”
The sounds Soren made were indecipherable, they sounded almost angry, but something in the way he held himself had Matthew hoping that Soren was at least considering letting him know how the curse could be broken.
He and Lukas trumpeted across the room, with Lukas' cries growing sharper and more fierce with each moment, ignoring Herakles' efforts to calm him down.
Matthew almost wished Berwald was awake – he always seemed to know what Matthew needed – except that a part of him was afraid that Berwald might agree with Lukas that Matthew couldn't break the curse.
He was scared and his head was beginning to hurt from the noise of two arguing swans and he was still anxious about not being in a place he'd known all his life and he just wanted to be able to curl up in one of his brother's arms and know that they would make everything alright.
But Berwald was still hurt and all of his brothers were swans. Matthew had no right to demand their attention when they had been tortured and changed and all Father had done to him was touch him without clothing – no matter how much his skin crawled and itched at the thought. Not to mention that it wasn't the same if his brothers weren't able to pull him into their laps and tell him that everything would be okay.
So it was no wonder that when Emil tried to climb up onto his legs and reassure him with a touch of cold, hard beak and stiff feathers where there should have been warm skin and gentle fingers, Matthew burst into tears, pulling away from Emil and curling into himself, hiding beneath the oversized robe as he shuddered and sobbed in the dark, unable to stop himself as his emotions spilled free.
The rest of the room fell silent, but Matthew barely noticed, flinching away from his brothers' efforts to comfort him. Guilt twinged in his chest, but it was ignored as he cried harder. He would apologize later, but he couldn't bear the reminder of his complete uselessness - what else could it be when he had gotten them trapped in the bodies of swans and yet couldn't be trusted with the remedy?
“Matthew?” Herakles' voice was calming, warm and nonjudgmental with a hint of worry. “Are you alright?”
Matthew sniffled, wiping his face against the back of his hands and trying to calm down, face flushed and warm from crying so hard. He nodded, an obvious lie, but one that he needed to pull himself together.
He had to be alright.
But when Matthew peeked up out of his dark sanctuary to see Herakles close enough to touch him, hands flat against his legs as he crouched there, green eyes offering a silent invitation, Matthew stifled the surge of panic that welled up inside of him.
For a moment he saw Father reaching out for him, smiling with venom-bright green eyes.
You're mine, love. My love, my queen.
When he came to, there was a row of swans between him and Herakles, whose eyes were still sympathetic and full of warm understanding.
As though he knew that if it wasn't his brothers, Matthew didn't want to be touched.
**
“L-Lukas?” Matthew stuttered. “P-please, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry I- I couldn't save you, but I swear I can fix it! If you'll let me... if you'll let me know how... please?”
Seeing the way Herakles' eyebrows rose at Matthew's words, Soren nudged Lukas forward, ignoring the way Lukas flapped and tried to push him away. Lukas had never been good at expressing emotions, but this was no time for him to be stubborn.
Matthew was still trembling, swollen eyes barely visible above the neck of the cloak, but he wasn't sobbing or fighting desperately to breath anymore.
Soren hated that the weight of Arthur's actions had fallen upon the youngest of them, that if Soren hadn't been so eager to beat Arthur into the floor he might have thought to snap his neck and end the madness before it began, but there was no way to change the past.
Now they just needed Matthew to know that it wasn't his fault. A task made harder in that Matthew seemed to take Lukas' refusal to let him go through the torture of the cure as a lack of confidence in his ability to help them. He needed to know that Lukas was only protecting him. He needed to know that they didn't think him weak for being young and small, that they didn't hate him because Father hadn't cursed him.
“Fix this, Lu.” Soren shoved Lukas closer to Matthew. “I don't care how, but he needs to know you don't blame him.”
“I know,” Lukas snapped, but his wings fluttered, folding tight against his sides, as he reached out to brush his beak against Matthew's forehead, obviously wary that his attentions might not be welcome.
It was a legitimate fear, with the way Matthew had flinched from them only moments before, but it turned out not to be necessary. Matthew even leaned into the touch, eyes fixed on Lukas as though there was nothing else to see.
“I only want to protect you, little one.”
Matthew couldn't understand what Lukas was telling him, frowning as though he'd been scolded even as he sat up, reaching out with shaking hands to pull Lukas closer. Soren realized with a start, watching Matthew's wistful expression, that Matthew was even more alone than any of them, separated from them as he was by his human form and inability to hear their words.
Little Matthew, who couldn't sleep alone and who still needed to be told how much they loved him because he couldn't quite believe it, was completely alone in every sense that really counted. And by refusing to give him a way to help, they were isolating him even further.
“He needs to know.” The words slipped free before Soren even realized he was saying them, but he didn't take them back. The remedy was painful – Soren hadn't been able to make out all the details in Lukas' ranting, but he had managed to understand that much – but it might very well be more harmful to Matthew's well-being to keep him in the dark.
Lukas only turned his head to look at Soren from his perch on Matthew's lap. “You know he won't be able to leave it. He'll think he has to fix this.” There's something in his voice that almost sounded like tears threatening to fall. “And we won't be able to help him.”
“I know. But he should have the choice.”
Lukas didn't respond, but his somber gaze made the words he'd shouted earlier rang in Soren's ears.
He's only eleven! Just a child! We can't ask him to suffer so much for us.
“May I tell him?”
Soren nearly jumped out of his feathers, as Herakles knelt beside him with the old, dusty book open in his lap. Emil was hiding behind his knee, gaze averted with an air of faux innocence.
“No-” Lukas began, only to trail off, looking up at Matthew's pleading eyes. He sighed, pressing himself against Matthew's chest, and then he nodded slowly.
“Matthew, I believe your brothers only wish to keep you safe,” Herakles began, prompting another fierce nod from Lukas and sounds of agreement from Soren and the rest of them. “But I will tell you how the curse can be broken.”
Opening his mouth, Matthew was cut off as Herakles shook his head, bending to read from the book.
“To break the curse of transformation tainted by a heart of wickedness, a pure soul must devote himself to a test of pain....”
With each word, Soren felt his heart breaking, watching Matthew pale to the color of fresh snow, squeezing Lukas so tightly that it had to have hurt.
Stinging nettles picked beneath the bright, full moon by bare hands and then crushed beneath bare feet would yield fibers that Matthew would then have to weave into a shirt – six shirts, in this case, one for each of his cursed brothers. He would have to do it alone as well, Herakles warned, because the touch of another would turn the nettles to dust.
From the moment the task was begun until the last shirt was placed upon the last brother's body, Matthew wouldn't be able to speak a single word. If he he did, the curse would settle and leave them nothing but mindless birds, with no memory of their former life.
“It is a heavy task, Matthew,” Herakles finished, looking up from the book, “and I know that I would never wish such a burden upon any child, but it is your choice to make.”
“But- I don't know how!” Matthew was shaking, with only Berwald and Soren not pressed up against him for comfort. “How do you make a shirt?”
“Matt...” Eduard's quiet utterance seemed to speak for all the brothers. Certainly it spoke for Soren's silent amazement and sorrow that Matthew barely seemed to care about the difficulty of the task or the pain he would suffer.
Herakles opened his mouth, about to answer, when he was cut off by a crash as an elaborately carved wooden disk fell from the wall behind Matthew.
“What-” Herakles' eyes were wide, and for the first time, he seemed completely alert as he set the book aside and rose to his feet. The disk was cracked, a deep split running down the center, and the look of horror on Herakles' face had Soren deeply concerned.
“Mother's protection....” Herakles whispered, kneeling down and running his fingers down the damaged wood. Then he was up, muttering under his breath as he dug through an odd assortment of trinkets on a small, out-of-the way table, finding what he was looking for in a glass flask the size of Matthew's littlest finger and a handful of braided cord
“Someone broke through the main wards on this house.” Lukas sounded scared. “Someone strong.”
“Father?” It was impossible to tell which twin had spoken, but no answer was needed.
Arthur was coming for Matthew.
Herakles came back, kneeling before Matthew and tying the cord around Matthew's neck, ignoring the way he flinched. There was a strange, sun-shaped medallion with runes etched across it dangling from the cord just above Matthew's breastbone.”
“This will protect you and keep you hidden from those who would wish you harm.” Herakles explained as he tucked the metal beneath the collar of the cloak.
“What-”
“Evil is coming. Take this,” Herakles pressed the flask into Matthew's hand, “give it to the first person you meet in the forest, tell them I sent you and that you need to speak with Kiku of the elves. This is payment for their aid. If, and only if, they refuse, show them the amulet. And you,” he looked to the swans, “be careful. Stay out of sight or near Matthew, or someone might mistake you for dinner.”
“What about Bear?” Soren's heart sank as Matthew's eyes fell on Berwald, still unconscious with his wing outstretched and bound to a frame. Even if he did wake, he would not be moving quickly.
“I will keep your Bear safe until his wing is healed.” Herakles promised, and when Matthew gave him a disbelieving look, he continued, “I swear on my mother's grave, I will do everything I can to protect him and return him to your side once he is well.”
Matthew still didn't look like he believed Herakles, but the oath was enough for Soren, who began tugging at the cloak, desperate to get Matthew to safety.
“Go!”
“Matthew! We have to go!”
Hiking up the loose robe so that it didn't restrict his feet, Matthew ran clumsily out the door, followed closely by the rest of his brothers as Soren herded them outside, turning to glare at Herakles before he joined them.
“Take care of Berwald, healer.” It would have been a growl had he been human, and Herakles seemed to understand what he meant, nodding solemnly.
“I will keep your brother safe.”
Soren nodded, hoping that Herakles would live to keep his promise, and then he ran, waddling awkwardly after Matthew until he grew frustrated enough to remember his wings. It took a few false starts, but the swan's instincts were there and soon he was in the sky, watching his family from above even as he called for the smaller swans to take flight, frowning as he only seemed to be able to see one of the twins among the small flock rising from the ground.
But there were no cries for a missing brother, and so Soren relaxed, sure that it was just the way his brothers were crowded together. After all, neither of the twins would allow the other to be left behind.
Distraction resolved, Soren involuntarily glance back towards the clearing, only to catch sight of a thick pillar of dark smoke rising from the trees. His wings fell still for a moment, falling through the air before he finally remembered to flap, and his vision grew blurry as Soren realized that swans were capable of crying.
** Apparently birds don't cry – that's a very human thing - but they do have tear ducts, so a human in bird form is potentially capable of crying. And, yes, I actually looked that up.
...Please don't hate me.
Responses:
OP: So glad you're still enjoying this. Sorry about the multitude of questions last time, but I wanted to be sure. :)
LA: Hopefully the kitten fluff last time made up for the sheer wave of pure angst this time. :) I had so much fun writing little protective Tino!swan vs. the Kitten... now I just wish I could draw it.
So... no Matt in this one, but more about Herakles... who I'm pretty sure is OOC... I didn't actually get to cover everything I wanted, so we'll definitely see more of everyone in the next bit. Hopefully. **
At five years old, all Eduard had understood was that Dad was gone, that there would be no more bedtime stories or pets because they were leaving and Father was too sad, Soren had to deal with all of them and didn't have time to help take care of Eduard's mice, Lukas had his hands full with little Emil, and Berwald was busy with the noisy new baby.
Eduard had hated Matthew, both for killing Dad and for stealing all of Berwald and Soren's attention. And Tino, who didn't understand why Eduard threw things at the baby whenever Berwald wasn't looking, had gone along with it.
No matter how old he grew, Eduard would never forget his sixth birthday, the day he'd nearly killed his six-month-old brother by hiding him under a pile of blankets in the closet so that Berwald and Soren would pay attention to him and Tino for once.
Tino had refused to play along anymore and gone to Berwald.
Soren had shouted at him, driving Eduard to tears, but it had been Berwald's quiet confusion that had left Eduard full of self-loathing. The feeling had only grown worse when, after he'd vented his anger, Soren took Eduard aside and held him close, letting him cry until his head hurt, before reminding Eduard how happy Dad had been as his belly grew, how Dad had let them listen for the baby's heartbeat and feel him kicking.
How disappointed Dad would be to see Eduard hurting his helpless baby brother.
Though Eduard had listened to Soren and grown to love Matthew, he hadn't been able to help the sharp flash of hatred towards Father and Matthew when Tino had been sent flying into a wall, and no matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise, no matter how much he knew that it wasn't Matthew's fault Father had gone insane, he couldn't erase the deep ache of bitterness that filled him at having been changed when Matthew was still human.
But when Eduard caught himself wondering if Father would change them back in exchange for Matthew, his stomach twisted in guilt and loathing. He loved Matthew, and he knew Matthew had suffered just as much, if not more for having to watch and listen helplessly.
Eduard would not let his selfishness hurt Matthew. That staying meant that Berwald would not wake alone and blind in a strange place, not knowing if his brothers were safe or even alive with only a stranger who couldn't understand him, only strengthened his resolve.
“Where are you going?” Tino asked as Eduard tried to slip into the long grasses beside the door.
“I'm staying with Berwald.” Eduard checked to make sure the others hadn't noticed – Matthew was still running, with Lukas and Emil trailing behind, and Soren had yet to exit the healer's hut. “He'll need one of us when he wakes, you know he can't see.”
“I'm staying too!”
“No!” No matter how much Eduard hoped that the healer really would have some kind of defense against Father, he couldn't bear the thought of Tino staying behind as well. Thinking fast, he shook his head. “You can't stay. You'll need to let Soren know I'm with Berwald once Matthew's safe.”
“But-”
“Please, Tino.” Eduard knew better than to order Tino to leave without him – Tino could be so stubborn sometimes. He was far more likely to listen if Eduard begged and didn't give him time to think of staying in Eduard's place. “Please, go.”
For a moment it looked like Tino would refuse, but then his eyes narrowed, his gaze worried and serious as he saw something in Eduard's eyes to change his mind. “You'll come find me? Us? Once Ber is ready?”
“I swear.” Eduard leaned forward to nuzzle against Tino. It wasn't completely a lie - Eduard would do everything he could to keep the promise, though a part of him knew it might not be possible. “I'll find you again.”
And then Tino was gone, waddling quickly after Matthew before they noticed he was gone. Soren followed after, and Eduard watched with awe as his eldest brother took to the sky. He'd known they were swans, but to see Soren flying was amazing.
Still, Father was coming, and Eduard quickly slipped back inside the doorway. Herakles didn't see him, too busy smearing a thick, rough-looking paste into a circle on the floor at the furthest corner of the cottage , and Eduard didn't want to distract him from his task, instead creeping up quietly to nestle against Berwald's side, heart aching as he realized that, for the first time ever, Tino wasn't there to ease his fears.
He was alone.
“Oh.” Herakles was looking up from the circle, warm eyes fixed curiously on Eduard. “Are you staying with your brother?”
Eduard nodded, pressing himself tighter against Berwald as his words dried up in his throat. He'd never had to speak with a stranger before – though he had vague recollections of a small Tino standing in front of him and shouting at someone much taller than them for scaring him.
It was probably a good thing that Herakles wouldn't have been able to understand him anyway.
“Quickly, then.” Herakles rose, lifting Berwald into his arms just as a crack of thunder announced Father's arrival. He always did like theatrics.
“I AM HERE FOR MY QUEEN!
A sharp whistle from Herakles had all the cats – and there were a lot more than Eduard had initially guessed, swarming out from under the bed and the table and above the stove, even a few in one of the cupboards – stampeding for the exit, where Father stood just in front of the open door. Some went around, curving their path to just miss his feet, but most, likely sensing a threat to their master, scrambled their way up Father's legs and torso until they reached his shoulders and leapt off through the door. One brave kitten even made it to the top of Father's head before jumping off.
Eduard couldn't look away, shocked and half expecting that the kittens would be brutally executed for their reckless actions, but Father seemed just as confused, a strange look of disbelief on his face as the last of the cats perched carefully on his shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek before making the jump down to the ground.
“Come on!”
Eduard had almost forgotten about Herakles and Berwald when he was scooped into the air and deposited gently, but quickly, on top of Berwald in the center of the upraised circle. “Don't move. You'll be safe in here..”
Then, almost before Eduard had a chance to process what was happening, Herakles had smeared some more of the paste on top of his head and sliced a deep cut across his own palm, squeezing his hand into a fist until blood dripped down onto the thick paste that formed the perimeter of the ring.
A flash of light nearly blinded Eduard, and when the spots faded, Father was attacking Herakles, his magic flinging the healer up against the wall.
“What have you done with my Queen?”
**
Breathing out a sigh of relief that he'd managed to hide the swans before this man – young, broken Matthew's father – had recovered from the surprise of being stampeded by at least two dozen cats and kittens, Herakles shook his head.
“Your Queen?” Herakles hadn't disbelieved Matthew's tale, but seeing it up close made him realize just how deranged the king truly was. The man certainly looked the part with wild sandy hair that seemed as though it had never seen a comb over caterpillar-sized eyebrows and acid-green eyes. He was powerful, that was true as well, his power leaking from him like blood from a severed artery, but nowhere near as strong as Herakles had expected for one capable of binding six boys with a single spell.
Then again, such a binding did take time to recover from, and it must have taken a great deal of power to sever the the protections Herakles' mother had left him so thoroughly. To have this much left, the man must have been extraordinarily powerful to begin with, not that that changed anything.
Herakles smiled, a vicious smile full of sharp teeth and venom as his dark side came to life. No matter how he tried to emulate his sweet, gentle, almost human mother, he could not deny his father's gifts.
“I know he's here!” The man let Herakles fall, standing over him with an outstretched arm, his fingers directing the invisible blade of magic that danced against Herakles' neck. “You will hand him and the demons over now, or you will forfeit your life.”
“I think not,” Herakles whispered, closing his eyes as he undid the slender chain around his neck and unleashed the wild magic inside of him, causing the floor beneath them to ripple violently, knocking the king to his feet. Thick tendrils of earth and vine shot up from the floorboards, wrapping themselves around the king's legs, the magic humming with glee to finally be allowed to aid the young witch-elf.
“What is this?!”
Even the most powerful of humans needed spells to control magic, to collar it and force it to obey – though a select few could cast those spells with nothing more than gestures or thoughts.
Herakles needed nothing, because he could not control his magic. It was a part of him, eager and wild, yet so unruly that he did not dare allow it free reign. It was the nature of the Fae, beings that were magic personified, and yet, only being half-elf, Herakles' magic was part of him and separate at the same time.
It was because of this unpredictability, that Herakles preferred to rely on the magic that existed in the world around him, coaxing it into amulets and potions as his mother had, but when all of his being was focused on keeping Matthew and his brothers safe, on protecting the helpless boys tucked away in the hidden circle, his magic followed suit.
“You are powerful, but this is my home, and I have no sympathy for one who would turn on his own kin.”
“You dare!” A burst of flame cut away the tendrils working their way up the king's body – obviously he knew better than to try and fight the elements with nothing but raw magic. “I have no kin, only my Queen.”
Herakles flinched as the sparks caught on the pages of the books still spread out across his desk, his magic recognizing the fear for all that he had left of his mother and his anger that this man did not seem to comprehend how much he had hurt his children and lashing out, the very earth beneath the small cottage tearing through the floorboards and throwing itself at the fire and the man alike.
“I will have my Queen.” The king spat out a curse, summoning a fireball that engulfed the interior of the small cottage before he vanished with a flicker – the coward, to escape when his power grew low.
Only the shield of earth that wrapped itself around Herakles instinctively protected him from catching fire himself, and he hoped that his will to protect Bear and the timid little swan would have his magic protecting them as well.
The blood-powered paste would hide the swans from sight and actively discourage anyone from approaching, but it would not prevent physical harm. Herakles' magic had left that corner untouched, but he had no control over the king's magic.
Fighting to breath as the flames grew higher, consuming everything they touched – his mother's rocking chair, the table and chairs he'd helped her carve, everything he had to remember her by – Herakles pushed aside his grief, calling out for the swans.
“Little one!” He still didn't know the small swan's name, and he didn't know if Bear was even awake. “Little one!”
A tiny, messy yellow swan stumbled forward out of thin air, breaking the circle with his webbed feet and revealing the larger swan, Bear, making desperate sounds, but remaining as still as he could beneath a small pile of dirt.
“It's alright, Bear.” Herakles was almost certain that the swans could communicate with each other, even if he could not understand them, but a little reassurance never hurt. “Your Matthew is safe, and I'm going to get you out of here.”
The fire was growing hotter, and even Herakles' magic wasn't going to be able to hold it off for long, so he knelt beside the remnants of the circle and reached out to cradle Bear into his arms, murmuring soft words of reassurance as he did.
“Jump on, Little One,” Herakles called, knowing the small swan wouldn't be able to get through the fire on his own. “Careful... that's it.” He adjusted his grip to better hold both the swans, smiling as the timid child burrowed into Bear's feathers, and then he turned his gaze to the wall in front of him, begging his magic to cooperate.
With a air of what seemed like smug pleasure, the wall crumbled open a door-sized hole, just large enough for Herakles and his passengers to fit through, and Herakles escaped, not letting himself look back until he reached the small stream that ran just inside the forest. There he laid the swans down on the sandy grass, gasping for air as he knelt and drank deeply from the stream before turning to look at the inferno that was his home.
What did he do now?
Bear was in no shape for traveling anywhere, and Herakles wasn't about to leave him alone. Not when he'd promised Matthew that he would keep him safe.
“What happened?”
Only the familiar voice, quiet and hoarse from lack of use, kept Herakles from jumping, instead turning his head to see Gupta standing beside him, clad in his usual loose robes, his dark eyes fixed on the flames and a number of proud looking cats circling his legs, not seeming to care that vines had snagged his feet as Herakles' magic reacted in his stead.
Frowning, Herakles shrugged, noting with worry that though Bear had tensed at Gupta's voice and his head had turned to face the newcomer, his gaze had focused on the air just to the left of Gupta's shoulder. Little One didn't seem to have the same problem, wings bristling nervously as he honked and whistled.
The sounds had Bear calming a little, wrapping his neck around Little One and pulling him closer, but it didn't ease Herakles' worries.
“Herakles?”
Gupta was annoyed at something, and when Herakles looked up from the swans, it was to see the vines quickly making their way up his friend's legs. Groaning a little, Herakles grasped the thin chain that blocked his magic where it hung from a clip on his collar and drew it back around his neck with only a pang of regret at the way his magic seemed to beg to be allowed to stay out, the vines jumping away from Gupta's legs. Shaking his head, Herakles offered silent apology and locked the clasp shut, shuddering and collapsing as a sudden wave of exhaustion overtook him.
It was always tiring to lock his magic away, but it would pass soon enough.
Soon enough..
Herakles' eyes fell shut, and he was asleep before he even realized what was happening.
** I probably could have kept going, but I am trying to keep my chapters all relatively the same size, and this one was threatening to become enormous if I didn't put my foot down. That said, Matt's family has issues. And hopefully Herakles and his magic use made sense.
Next time: Matt gets lost, Arthur recovers, and (hopefully) this plot actually goes somewhere.
Curious!Anon: I swear, it was going to be Tino, but Ed needed a chance to grow without anyone hovering over him like Soren and Lukas, and maybe even Emil, would if he stayed with them without Tino. Kiku will probably show up in a few chapters – Matt's got to find him first. :)
L!A: Not Tino. :) And Matt hasn't even had a chance to deal with knowing how to break the swan curse, poor thing. I originally thought I could keep this story short, but I don't think that's going to be happening.
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Any(/Any) or Ensemble- Fairytales
(Anonymous) 2013-05-20 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)Disney sugar coated versions of the original is also allowed.
Fluff, smut, whatever is fine. Genderbents are welcome too.
Bonus: Hans Christian Anderson + DenNor
Re: Any(/Any) or Ensemble- Fairytales
(Anonymous) 2013-05-21 11:39 am (UTC)(link)Also, would you mind if it ended up being something of a mash-up of fairytales (mostly The Wild Swans, with bits and pieces inspired by others), because I've got a rather strange idea that might work for your prompt, depending on what exactly you're looking for.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-22 01:19 pm (UTC)(link)Nor do I mind it being a mash-up of fairy tales. I'm excited to see what you might have in mind ^^
The Power in Silence - Part 1a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-23 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)I am a fairly slow writer, but I know where I'm going with this, mostly, so it shouldn't be too long between updates.
Not Canon Names:
Soren - Denmark
Lukas - Norway
Emil – Iceland
**
Once upon a time... that was how the Story began. Every Saturday night, after the boys had washed and prepared for bed, Father would gather them in the sitting room and tell them the Story.
And every week, he started the same way.
Once upon a time.
**
Once upon a time, there was a King.
He was a good King, powerful and kind, if not a bit prickly and prone to temper.
He loved his people, and they knew it and loved him back.
And when the King fell in love, the Kingdom rejoiced.
The Queen was a bright man, with hair like the sun over eyes like the noon-day sky full of mischief and happiness, never one to take the King's sharp tongue to heart. It was the Queen who begged the King to use his magic to allow him to bear their children, and the King could not bear to refuse.
Six beautiful sons were born within the span of ten years, bringing light and joy into the castle and the kingdom, but Magic is not used lightly.
With each child, the Queen grew weaker and weaker, until finally he swore to the worried King that the seventh child, currently resting within his belly, would be the last.
And he was. With blue eyes and golden locks, the child was born in the image of the Queen, but the Queen did not live to hold his youngest babe.
**
Berwald wrapped his arms around the slender figure of his youngest brother, rocking gently back and forth as Matthew burst into tears. Father was so wrapped up in his memories that he hardly noticed the quiet sobbing – the only sound outside of the crackling fire to break the silence - though it was hardly a surprise. Though Father claimed to love all of his children, ensuring that none of them lacked for anything within his power, he couldn't bear to look at Matthew.
Little Matthew, the final gift from their “mother”, who, out of all of his brothers, resembled Queen Alfred the most.
Who had to be reassured almost daily that his brothers did not hate him for being born because Father refused to stop telling that damned Story like it wasn't their story as well, as though they might forget Dad if he didn't remind them of his sacrifice Every. Single. Week.
“What happened next?” Tino's subdued voice broke through the miserable silence, and Berwald cast a grateful glance to where Tino was curled up with Eduard in front of the fire.
The sooner the story was over, the sooner they could escape to their room, away from Father and his endless grief.
“Ah,” Father blinked, his eyes dark and empty, as though he'd forgotten what he was doing. “Where was I...?”
**
The Queen died with a smile on his face and a name on his lips, taking with him the Kingdom's light.
Save for the seven stars he had borne the King, the only consolation in the darkness of his grief.
And the King took his precious sons and hid them away where they would be safe, because he could not bear to lose the gifts his Queen had died for.
**
The Power in Silence - Part 1b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-23 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)Sometimes he hated Arthur for being so selfish. For not thinking about what he was doing to his sons.
For forgetting that he had not been the only one to grieve when Dad had died - even Emil, who had only been three at the time, had cried for days when Soren had told him that “Dama” wouldn't be coming back. For locking them all away without even servants to talk to in the name of protection and then being so wrapped up in his grief and self-loathing that the only time he spent with them was the morning meal each day and the weekly story time, where he made sure that none of his sons forgot just how miserable he was because of them.
Because Dad had wanted a large family, and so had not been willing to stop at one or two, sacrificing his health and inevitably his life so that they could live.
Arthur didn't deserve the title of Father. Not when Soren had been the one to wipe away his brothers' tears and tuck them in at night, not when nine-year-old Berwald was changing baby Matthew's diapers while Soren had played mother and father and nursemaid all in one before he was even as old as Matthew was now.
“And they all lived happily ever after...,” Arthur finished, his voice trailing off as he stared into the distance.
Snorting, Soren jumped down, clenching his jaw to keep from voicing his opinion of Arthur's story as he stalked out of the room, more for the sake of his brothers than his father. The last time he'd lashed out at Arthur in front of them, it had escalated far too quickly. Matthew had flinched away from him afterward and Berwald had not been pleased.
So he held in his temper until he reached the large bedroom that all seven of them shared, and then he grabbed the pillow off of the nearest bed and threw it across the room, dropping onto the bed as his anger fled.
Twenty-one, and he'd been trapped in this castle with the same eight people for over half his life. Not that Soren begrudged his brothers the time he'd spent caring for them, but sometimes he wished he could just get away and see the world outside of the stone walls that were their prison just once more.
“Soren?” Tino peeked his head around the door, looking nervous and pleading at the same time.
“Hey,” Soren waved him in, patting the bedspread in silent invitation. He knew that his temper scared his brothers sometimes, especially the younger ones, but he was still relieved when Tino came rushing to join him, Eduard at his heels. “You okay?”
Eduard shook his head, curling up against Soren like a kitten, but he didn't say a word. Instead, Tino, who was curled up on Soren's other side spoke up, “Will he ever stop telling that story?”
Brow furrowed in worry – Eduard had long ago stopped relying on Tino to speak for him except when he was too distressed to voice his own thoughts – Soren shook his head. “It's been eleven years. If he was going to stop, he'd've done it by now.”
If he had cared at all, he'd have stopped long before Matthew was old enough to understand – the words were left unspoken this time. They'd been said before, far too often, but nothing ever changed.
The Power in Silence - Part 1c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-23 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)“Not 'til I get a chance,” Soren countered. Still, if Lukas was that upset... Soren's gaze went to the door, watching for Berwald and his precious cargo.
“S'alright, Matt,” Berwald's deep voice came from the doorway, Matthew's trembling body cradled against his shoulder. “Won't let 'im near ya 'gain.”
“He asleep?” Soren pushed himself up with his elbows until he was sitting on the bed, letting the twins curl back up against him in his new position.
“Hardly,” Berwald muttered, using one hand to pull the covers down in the bed just across from where Soren and the twins were sprawled out. “Should've made him sleep though. We're gonna hav'ta start all over with him now.” Shaking his head, he laid Matthew onto the bed, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead before pulling the blanket back up.
“What happened?” As cold as it might seem, Matthew was used to hearing how it was his birth that had killed Dad, and even if he needed constant reaffirmation that his brothers would always love him, it had been almost a year since the Story had really affected him.
“We were saying good night, and Father snapped out of it long enough to see Matthew, and then he started talking about how beautiful he was, 'just like my Alfred',” Lukas sneered, his hands twisting and curling like he was fighting the urge to light the room on fire – he probably was, considering this was more emotion than he usually showed in a week. “You should have seen the look in his eyes, Soren. He's not sane. I think he really thought that Matthew was Dad.”
“He didn't...” Oh, gods. Soren didn't want to believe it, because as much as he hated Arthur, the man was still their father, but Berwald just looked at him, angry and scared and worried, and Soren knew that it was no lie.
It was that look, the look of a child who needed to know what to do, coming from Berwald, who had always seemed so much older than Soren despite being a year younger, that kept Soren from completely losing his temper.
Then Matthew whimpered and shoved the blankets away, face still streaked with drying tears as he reached up, silently pleading for Berwald to hold him again.
They couldn't stay like this forever, Soren thought as he watched Berwald give in to the wide-eyed plea, whispering some quiet words into Matthew's ear that seemed to calm him.
Arthur hadn't touched Matthew – if he had tried, Lukas wouldn't just be talking about killing him because he would have already burnt the body after Berwald had snapped his neck– but Matthew was so desperate for his father's love that if Arthur got him alone for a moment, he might very well go along with whatever Arthur wanted.
“We're not staying here.” Eleven years, Soren had dreamed of leaving, though he'd always cared too much for his brothers to follow through with the plans he'd made. But if Arthur had finally noticed Matthew's resemblance to the lost Queen as more than a cause of pain, Father or not, it was only a matter of time before he forgot himself completely, and Soren would tie his brothers up and carry them away in sacks before allowing them to be hurt. “Not if Arthur's finally snapped.”
“M'sorry!” Matthew squeaked, burrowing into Berwald's arms with a sob.
“No!” Soren hissed as his anger seeped into the word, Matthew flinching into Berwald's chest. Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, Soren waved Tino out of his way, standing and moving to Berwald's side, resting his hand on Matthew's shoulder. “No, Baby Bear, it's not your fault. You did nothing.”
The Power in Silence - Part 1d/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-23 08:11 pm (UTC)(link)And nothing Soren said would convince him otherwise.
Soren had never hated Arthur more than he did at that moment, but he forced the feeling down, wrapping his arms around Berwald until Matthew was pressed between them. “We love you, Baby Bear,” he whispered, his throat hoarse with subdued emotion. “More than anything.”
“Mm-hmm.” Berwald nodded, resting his head against Soren's. “N'ver gonna stop lovin' ya.”
“Love you, Matt” Emil's voice was low, his cheeks red as he joined the pile, leaning his head against Matthew's side.
“Always,” Lukas draped himself over Emil, prompting a short whine of protest, “Love you always, Matthew.”
“Hey!” Tino jumped off the bed, dragging Eduard along with him until he launched himself at the group hug. “We love Matt too.”
Eduard approached more slowly, a sad smile on his lips as he fixed his glasses. “Love you, Matt,” he whispered, leaning against Soren as he reached his arm in to hold Matthew's hand.
Matthew sniffled, trying not to cry. “... love you.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.
This was their family, their home. Seven hurting boys and the memory of a loving father and dad.
They needed each other. Nothing more, nothing less.
But they couldn't mope over Matthew forever.
Smirking, Soren shifted his weight and pushed, shoving the pile of tangled bodies onto the bed before leaping on top. “Did I ever tell you about the time Dad tried to catch Arthur's imaginary friends?”
“Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're imaginary.”
“Do you have imaginary friends, Lukas?” That was Tino's innocent voice, and gods only knew if he was genuinely curious or just trying to get a rise out of Lukas, but Soren laughed anyway, accepting the fist Lukas slammed against his shoulder without complaint.
“Anyway, Dad was pregnant with the twins, as big as a whale, and he got it into his head that Arthur was hiding something from him...” Soren watched his family as he told the story, managing to make them all laugh – even if he had to tickle them to do it.
Later they would think about escape, how to best leave Arthur alone with his delusions, but tonight, tonight was for family.
In the morning, Matthew was gone.
**
Any questions? I'm still working on the universe, so if it's not clear what's going on, feel free to ask. I'm hoping nobody seems too OOC – Matthew may come over as too childish or too mature depending on the situation, but he's an eleven-year-old who's been locked away in a castle and coddled by his brothers since birth, and that's gotta mess him up a little.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-23 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)But Anon, I'm sure you didn't know this, but Soren's my FAVORITE name for Denmark, so it made me thrilled to see him with that name~
Anyways, keep up the good work ^^ (And don't worry about updating too quickly since I have the habit of updating slowly on fills myself)
Re: The Power in Silence - Part 1d/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-24 10:44 am (UTC)(link)Dear lord, this was gorgeous. I can't explain it to say that you sketched the characters and infused just those few lines with so much history and life, that there's clearly so much detail in there that isn't said. You said...everything that needed saying, I guess. It was lovely.
I'll be keeping an eye on this!
Re: The Power in Silence - Part 1d/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-24 02:57 pm (UTC)(link)now I just have to keep everyone straight, don't read enough AU
The Power in Silence - Part 2a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-30 02:25 am (UTC)(link)Some warnings, non-con incestuous molestation, possibly OOC!Norway, violence, and insanity.
**
A silent gesture ensured that the sleeping boys lumped together on a single bed would not wake.
His prize was hidden, buried beneath his two eldest sons, the familiar face – if somewhat younger than he remembered – peaceful in sleep.
For so long he had tried not to see, hating the face that had been stolen, the child that had taken his love and yet stood as a constant reminder.
How foolish he had been.
So very foolish, for his love's beauty was unique, and it shone in the child.
And after so long, he could not bear to be without it another moment.
**
Lukas was the first to wake, prone as he was to rising with the sun. He liked to use the mornings to hone his gift without having to worry about curious brothers interfering and accidentally getting hurt – Soren had been more annoying than usual for the two months it took for his hair to grow back properly after he'd ambushed Lukas in the middle of target practice.
This morning, however, Lukas was trapped between Soren and Eduard, with Emil drooling on his hair and Tino's legs draped over his stomach – Tino's torso was bent over the edge of the bed in what looked to be a fairly painful position.
“It is too early for this,” Lukas grumbled to himself, kicking Soren off the bed. He snorted as Soren yelped, served him right for making fun of the Trolls.
Imaginary friends, indeed.
The strangled cry that was obviously Berwald was not expected, and Lukas rolled himself over (pulling his hair out from beneath Emil's face) to find the largest of his brothers sprawled out on the floor beneath Soren, gasping for breath and looking as though someone had tried to murder him. As Soren seemed to have landed head-first on his stomach, Lukas didn't really blame him
“Sorry,” Lukas offered.
“S'okay,” Berwald gasped, shoving Soren off of him roughly.
“What the hell?” Soren didn't seem to be entirely awake, not moving from where Berwald had shoved him, but he was obviously annoyed. “Why does he get an apology? I'm the one you pushed off the bed.”
Lukas just raised an eyebrow.
“Wha' time 's it? Emil yawned, as Eduard rolled over and latched himself onto Tino's leg.
The twins could sleep through anything.
“Too damn early,” Soren griped, sitting up and stretching. “No thanks to Firehands, there.”
There was no venom in his words though, only a muted sort of affection.
Lukas smirked, the closest he came to a grin. “I thought you wanted to get out of here today.”
The words set a damper over the brothers, a reminder of their Father and his insane obsession.
“Where's Matt?” Berwald was sitting up, rising to his feet as though the floor was on fire when he saw the only four occupants of the bed.
Shoving Tino to the foot of the bed, Lukas sat up as well, adrenaline beginning to surge through his body.
Matthew wasn't on the floor.
Nor was he on any of the other beds.
He was gone.
Berwald was shouting at Soren, Soren was shouting back, Eduard had finally woken and was shaking Tino awake and blinking at the chaos while Emil leaned against the headboard and clutched his knees to his chest.
And Lukas gathered the energy within him and sent a surge of it to his closed eyes, something he'd taught himself to do the first time Matthew had hidden far too well during a game of Find the Rabbit. The memory brought an ache to his chest – Matthew was their baby, their heart, and if Father took that innocence away from him...
If Father hurt Matthew that way for any reason, he would no longer be Lukas' father.
The Power in Silence - Part 2b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-30 02:27 am (UTC)(link)“Lukas?”
“Do you know where Matt is?”
“Luk?”
“Don't follow me! Not yet,” Lukas warned, keeping his eyes shut as he fixed the red-brown color that was his baby brother's in his mind. “I can find Matthew, but I have to focus and I can't do that with you around.”
Soren shouted some protest, but Berwald cut him off.
“Ya can't face Fath'r alone.”
Sighing, Lukas nodded. “You can follow me, but not too close.”
Then he shut the door behind him and opened his eyes once more, automatically filtering out the older, stale colors to find the fresh auburn hue engulfed in a sickly green.
Father.
Lukas had hoped it might have simply been Matthew wandering off on his own, but a part of him knew that Matthew wouldn't have gone anywhere without at least one of them, especially after last night.
Father had taken Matthew.
Tapping on the door, Lukas stalked down the hallway after the trail, his fire surging into his hands, just waiting to be used.
Behind him, he could hear his brothers footsteps, though they were thankfully quiet.
Lukas needed to think, to plan, because for all his insanity, Father had once been the greatest mage in the Kingdom, trained by the best from all over the world so he could defend his kingdom. Lukas, with his self-taught spells and his lack of experience, had no chance in a direct fight.
Stepping through a wall of magic that sent shivers down his spine, Lukas froze. Where there had been silence only moments before, there was now a desperate cry for help.
“Bear!” The cry was shrill, a child's high voice raised in terror. “Father, no! Bear, please! Soren! Lukas! Please, I'm scared-”
And then it stopped, the cry ending in a strangled yelp.
“Matt.” Berwald had stepped through the sound barrier just in time to hear the final plea. Matthew was calling for him.
Lukas knew before it happened that any chance for secrecy was gone, as Berwald ran past him, throwing himself against the door to Father's rooms until it cracked beneath his strength.
As the door fell, the others joined them, their eyes met with a horrible sight.
Matthew was crying, the sound muffled by a gag as Fath- Arthur! - knelt over him, hands moving across Matthew's bare skin. Matthew's clothes were strewn across the floor, his bound arms trapped beneath him as he struggled against Arthur's strength.
Arthur didn't even look up as they forced their way in, his voice low and dark as he spoke to the sobbing child beneath him. “I've missed you, my love.”
“Matt!” It was hard to tell who was the first to leap forward as both Soren and Berwald grabbed Arthur and threw him to the floor. Soren followed him down, lashing out with his fists, as Berwald went to Matthew's side, lifting him from the bed.
“I'm here,” Berwald's voice cracked as he tore away the gag and untied the bonds holding Matthew's arms back. “I'm here, Matt.” The moment he was able, Matthew clung to his savior as hard as he could, sobbing and sniffling into Berwald's shoulder.
The Power in Silence - Part 2c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-30 02:28 am (UTC)(link)If Arthur truly believed that Matthew was Alfred, he might not care that they were his sons as well. If he no longer cared that they were his sons, Arthur would do everything he could to keep them from stealing him away.
And insanity had not taken away his strength.
Lukas felt the surge of magic the moment before Arthur released it. “Get back! Soren! Berw-!” And then he was slammed against the wall, barely able to breath as the magic pressed against him. Fighting to keep his eyes open, Lukas could see Berwald clutching Matthew, shielding him from Arthur's rage, his shirt damp with blood as the magic seemed to sense Arthur's obsession and attacked more viciously. Soren was unconscious, his head looked to have been smashed into the stone fireplace, a trickle of blood visible from where Lukas was.
“You took him from me!” Arthur's eyes were black, his hand outstretched towards Berwald, releasing the pressure on Lukas and the others to focus all of his power on the man he saw as trying to steal away his Queen. “All of you, you took him from me! But he came back! He came back for me, and I won't let you take him again!”
Berwald screamed, his flesh torn to ribbons beneath the magic, but he didn't let go of Matthew.
“No!!!” Tino ran forward before Lukas or Eduard could catch him. “No, please, Father! Please, we're your sons! Please, you don't want to do this!”
“I have no sons.”
As Tino went flying into the wall, Lukas closed his eyes and focused his magic, sighing in relief when Tino hit the wall as though it was a soft pillow. He would be bruised, but he would survive.
Eduard ran to Tino's side, cradling his twin against his chest as he trembled with fear and relief.
Gesturing for Emil to help Eduard get Tino out of the room before Arthur turned on them directly, Lukas straightened.
“You're right.” He sent a fireball straight at Arthur, drawing his attention. The flame was extinguished almost immediately, but Berwald wasn't screaming anymore and those angry dark eyes were fixed on Lukas. “We're not your sons anymore.”
Arthur laughed. “A child mage? You think you can stand against me?” He snapped his fingers, the resulting wave of magic nearly sending Lukas into the wall – only the summoning of a barrier slowed the wave down so that it only pushed him back a few feet.
“You'd be surprised, Arthur,” Lukas drawled. “I've been studying for years, every spellbook, every journal, everything related to magic I could find, in the hopes that I could make you proud of me. It didn't work, because you've been so wrapped up in your grief that you never noticed any of us. You just kept us here to remind you of your pain, to remind you that it was your gift that killed your Queen-”
Three blades of air came flying at Lukas, and he blocked two, only to have the third one catch his leg, drawing blood. “YOU DARE!”
The Power in Silence - Part 2d/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-30 02:31 am (UTC)(link)Arthur took advantage of Lukas' distraction, throwing him at the clustered boys and sending them crashing into the barrier and the wall around it.
“Guardians of Earth and Stone, come to my aid.” Lukas whispered, groaning as he struggled to rise. His blood had been spilt, and that along with the ritual words would be enough to call the Trolls to him.
They were not aggressive creatures, and he had hoped not to draw them into this fight, but now that luxury had been taken from him. Arthur was out for blood, and Lukas would use every resource he had to defend his brothers.
With luck, it would not be too late.
“Protect us!”
Arthur was chanting, his power surging across the room – not pressing against them as before, but wrapping itself around each individual, tearing a screaming Matthew away from Berwald as the magic grew stronger and stronger.
Pain.
“Protect-” Lukas gasped out as he doubled over, his insides feeling like they were boiling beneath the skin. “-my brothers!”
He wasn't the only one affected, Soren was groaning and Tino was crying and there was so much pain that he couldn't think, couldn't breath.
And over it all, he heard Arthur's triumphant laughter. “I won't let them take you, love! We'll be together forever!”
And then there was nothing.
**
Please don't poke the plotholes, they might return the favor.
OP: Thank you so much! I used to be very much a “Mathias” person for Den, just because I'd seen it used the most, and then I tried to write a Vinland story and it got way too confusing way too fast, so now I stick with Soren. It is a lovely name. :)
I've been doing pretty well at getting this story to move, so I should be able to update every week, at least until I start work and school again. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
LovelyAnon: Thank you! Your comment gave me tingly happy feelings, and very much made my day. :)
AU!Anon: Thanks!
I had that problem once – I solved it by reading more AU's. :p
Re: The Power in Silence - Part 2d/?
(Anonymous) - 2013-05-31 07:31 (UTC) - Expand(no subject)
(Anonymous) - 2013-05-31 23:15 (UTC) - ExpandThe Power in Silence - Part 3a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-06-06 01:39 am (UTC)(link)**
“NOOOOO!!”
Matthew sobbed and screamed, throwing himself against the invisible wall that trapped him on the bed. “Bear!” Out of all of his brothers, Berwald was the one he was the closest to, and to know that he was hurt because of Matthew, to know that all of his brothers were writhing on the floor because they had tried to rescue him, made Matthew want to curl up into a little ball and hide.
But they had fought for him, had tried to save him, and he could do no less.
“Stop it!” Matthew shrieked until his throat was hoarse, hating himself for their pain. “Stop it! Please, Father!”
And then Father's laughter stopped, his dark gaze fixed on Matthew for a moment, and Matthew couldn't speak as terror filled his soul.
“I'm doing this for you, my love.”
“No!” His brothers were being tortured because of him. “No, please!”
Because Father wanted him.
“A-Arthur,” Matthew pleaded, drawing upon all of the stories Soren and Berwald liked to tell about the bright Queen – a man who would not have let his sons die like this. His skin crawled at the light in Father's eyes, but he forced himself to continue. If Father would not stop for his son, he might listen to his husband. “Please, Arthur, l-love. They're mine.”
“They tried to keep us apart, dearest.” The look Father gave him was pained, almost hurt. “I can't let them live to try it again.”
“I know.” They had tried to save him. He could only do the same. Putting on his most innocent face, Matthew pressed his hand to the barrier. “But they're still mine. Please don't hurt them, please, please.... ” Tears flowed freely down Matthew's cheeks, hoping Father would believe him. “I- I'll stay, F- Arthur. I won't let them take me again, just don't hurt them!”
“You always were too kind,” Father mused, his gaze growing soft. “Very well.”
A flick of Father's wrist and the screaming stopped, but only for a moment.
When it started up again, it was accompanied by the sight of his brother's bodies shrinking contorting, shrinking and twisting, sprouting bloody feathers from their skin.
They were being changed.
“Arthur!”
“It's for the best, love,” Father smiled as though to reassure Matthew. “I will not risk losing you again.”
Trembling and rubbing at the raw skin where his wrists had been torn by the bonds, Matthew could only watch through teary eyes.
This was because of him.
Emil – the youngest and smallest save for Matthew – was the first to complete the change, lying still beneath his clothes in a puddle of blood and bits of feather. Father reached out, lifting the limp form of a young, silver swan into the air. He held it carelessly in one hand to examine it, oblivious to Matthew's distress, when something caught his attention.
“What are you doing here?” Father sounded more curious than annoyed, looking into the air as though he could see something Matthew couldn't, Emil's limp body forgotten in his hands.
Lukas' voice echoed in the air, Come to my aid. Protect us. Protect my brothers.
“That brat had a contract!?” Matthew might have laughed at his father's outraged expression, except that Emil was in danger, Father's anger prompting him to forget his promise and throw the small body at the wall with all his might.
Wincing in expectation of the death of his brother, Matthew sagged against the barrier, relief stealing away his strength as the swan slowed and slid into what seemed like cradled arms, nothing more than glimmers of shadow and light in the air. One by one, his brothers were lifted into the air, held gently in unseen arms before vanishing into nothingness.
They would be safe.
Something pounded against the barrier around Matthew, one of the invisible saviors Lukas had called, unable to reach him. Father sent a wave of something that had the Being screaming, retreating from the barrier.
The Power in Silence - Part 3b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-06-06 01:41 am (UTC)(link)“Keep them safe.” Matthew pressed against the rippling barrier, whispering his sacrifice. “Don't let them come back for me.”
He fought back selfish tears of pain and fright, still able to taste Father's clammy lips against his, still feeling the rough hands that had touched him in places no one was allowed to touch him.
Father was all wrong, and Matthew could only imagine how bad it would be without his brothers there to stop him.
But this was all his fault.
“Tell them I love them.”
It was always his fault.
And then the bed was wrenched off the floor, sending Matthew tumbling against the barrier.
“NO!” Father screamed, banishing the barrier and pulling Matthew to him with a surge of magic. “He's mine! You can't have him!!”
It wasn't Father's arms that caught him. Instead, Matthew found himself plucked from the air and enveloped in strong arms, unnaturally large and hairy to the touch, but generating a protective warmth that had him curling into the sensation.
“Why-” Why hadn't the strange beings left him behind? Why had they faced Father's magic for him? Why did they seem to think he was worth protecting?
PROTECT MY BROTHERS!
The familiar voice echoed in Matthew's ears, bringing tears to his eyes as the world spun around him.
Lukas had saved him.
**
Matthew was set down on cold dirt in a darkened cave, surrounded by six unconscious swans in, their feathers skewed and bloody. Two of the swans were huge, apparently full-grown. Three of them were smaller, roughly the same size as Matthew's torso, and the smallest silver one – Emil, Matthew reminded himself – was hardly bigger than his head.
His brothers.
Wiping away his tears, Matthew shivered, looking up at the closest shimmer in the air. “Thank you.” As Matthew bowed his head in gratitude, the shimmer moved closer, the feeling of a large, strangely shaped hand patting the top of his head gently. Images appeared in Matthew's mind as the Being touched him.
Safe here. It seemed to say, filling his head with a warm reassurance. Safe now.
And then it was gone.
Matthew swiveled around, hoping to catch sight of another Being, another shimmer. But they were either completely gone, or hiding more thoroughly than before, and Matthew quickly gave up the search.
He didn't want to be alone – already Father's insane eyes were beginning to stare at him from the back of his mind, laughing and touching and- Matthew cut the thought off before he lost himself completely, trembling and swallowing down the bile that rose up in his throat.
He couldn't think about it.
He had to be strong, like Berwald, and just keep moving.
He needed to do something, to keep himself too busy to think.
Gently, like lifting the most delicate of ornaments, Matthew lifted the smallest swan – silver-feathered Emil – into his arms, not caring that the blood smeared against his skin. The quick beat of the swan's heart against his hands was reassuring, and with careful, shaking fingers, Matthew began to card through the horribly mussed feathers. There was very little he could do about the blood, he had no cloth to wipe it away nor any water to wash it off, but he could make his swan-brothers as comfortable as possible.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered as he finished with Emil's grooming, laying the unconscious swan beside him to rest. “I'm so sorry.”
Never before had he wished so strongly to have never been born. Without him, Dad – a man he knew only through stories – would have lived, Father would not have gone insane, and his brothers would not have been tortured and turned into swans.
Scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, Matthew tried to ignore his self-loathing, the tiny voice in the back of his head scolding him in Berwald's deep, clipped words. Not yer fault, Matt. Ya didn't ask t' be born.
The Power in Silence - Part 3c/?
(Anonymous) 2013-06-06 01:42 am (UTC)(link)Especially not now.
But, though the blame did lie with him, blame would do nothing for his brothers, so Matthew forced himself to keep working, to do all he could for them. To keep his thoughts off of everything but helping his brothers.
Moving on to the large swan with bright, sunshine yellow feathers – undeniably Soren – Matthew wasn't strong enough to lift the heavy bird, instead kneeling beside it as he began picking his fingers carefully through the tangled feathers, trying not to cry as his fingers brushed a deep gash over Soren's eyes.
Next was one of the medium-sized swans, with sandy-yellow feathers and only a few black marks on its wings. Matthew knew it was one of the twins, as it was nearly identical to another of the three medium swans, but he couldn't tell which one. But Matthew groomed both of them, wiping away as much of the blood as he could with his hands in an effort to find some difference.
There was none as far as he could tell.
When he finally gave up, he moved on to Lukas – for there was no one else the pale bird could be – pressing a gentle kiss to the dark beak before he began to run his fingers through his feathers. Lukas had saved him, had saved them all from Father's anger.
“Thank you,” Matthew breathed into the air. “Thank you, Lukas.”
Beneath his fingers, Lukas stirred, wings fluttering and beak clacking. Matthew pulled away, suddenly aware that he didn't know whether his brothers' minds had been transformed as well.
Would Lukas still know him?
The sharp beak and dagger-like claws that had seemed no more dangerous than Berwald's stern face made Matthew wary as he watched the bird shake out its feathers and struggle awkwardly to its feet, head darting back and forth to take in their surroundings.
Did he remember Father changing him?
And then it looked up, and dark eyes, round like small, black marbles met Matthew's gaze. They seemed empty, as the bird continued to stare at Matthew, but there was no way of knowing how much of that was the swan and how much was just Lukas being Lukas.
“Please.” He needed it to be Lukas more than he could fully comprehend.
Behind them, he could hear the honking and rustling as more of his brothers woke, but Matthew couldn't bring himself to look away, his heart beginning to crack more and more with each moment that Lukas didn't show some sign of the human he had been, even as he moved closer on unsteady legs.
Closer and closer, as Matthew tried not to tremble in fear, his eyes squeezing shut. He did not want to see the swan that had been Lukas as it lashed out.
The brush of a cool, smooth beak touched his cheek, light and quick, and Matthew's eyes flew open to catch a glimmer of worry in small black eyes. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the bird – around Lukas! - and weeping with relief.
Lukas-swan wrapped his neck over Matthew's shoulder, and for a moment everything was okay.
His brothers were not gone, merely changed.
Matthew wasn't alone.
The other swans were crowding them, brushing Matthew with wing-tips and beaks, and one by one Matthew hugged them, joyful tears still rolling down his cheeks. He wasn't alone. He was safe.
The Power in Silence - Part 3d/?
(Anonymous) 2013-06-06 01:44 am (UTC)(link)“Bear?” Matthew jumped to his feet to cross the short distance faster, falling to his knees at Berwald's side without thought. All of his attention was fixed on the large swan, and as he bent over his dearest brother, Matthew saw the large burnt-black patch of feathers along his back and the crooked tilt of one long wing.
His fingers hovered over the black feathers, his arms aching where Berwald had held him so tight, so safe, against the torrent of Father's magic.
Berwald had come for him.
Father had hurt him, and he had been so afraid. Matthew had been so scared, but Berwald had heard his cries and swept him into his arms, tearing away the knot that had bound his wrists so tight, and protecting him from Father's rage.
Berwald had been hurt because of him.
And there was nothing Matthew could do for him. Not when Matthew had no water to clean the wounds, no cloth to bandage them, and no stick to set his broken wing.
So Matthew cradled Berwald's long neck in his lap, recalling the words that Berwald had sung in his rough voice whenever Matthew woke from a nightmare, and he sang, tears flowing down his cheeks as he wished so desperately that Berwald would wake up.
Closing his eyes as he lost himself in the gentle tune, Matthew didn't notice the light that began to emanate from his hands.
**
I'm having so much fun with this story!
LovelyAnon: Thank you! I'm not much for action, so I'm glad I managed to get that scene right.
I've never been one for replying to Anons with numbers. Even if I have to pull a name out of my hat. XD
OP: I am so glad you're enjoying this!
Don't worry about me worrying – at this point in time, I have literally nothing to do but write and I love writing. I'm out of school for the first time in years, and I won't have anything to do until I get called in for work and school starts again – in at least two more weeks. :D Though, update speed may slow down after that if I don't get any further ahead by then.
LA
(Anonymous) - 2013-06-06 17:27 (UTC) - ExpandOP
(Anonymous) - 2013-06-06 22:34 (UTC) - ExpandThe Power in Silence - Part 4/?
(Anonymous) 2013-06-21 03:47 am (UTC)(link)Warnings for child nudity, magic, and swan violence (aka Finland).
**
“Nooo!!” The anguished cry broke the silence, as a king fell to his knees, outstretched arms folding in on themselves.
His love was gone.
Snatched from his very fingertips.
As rage overtook his grief, the king's eyes sharpened, his gaze falling upon a pair of abandoned spectacles. He would find his queen.
The brats that had stolen him away for the second time would regret it. He would not underestimate them again. He could not kill them, not after the heartfelt pleas of his youthful love, but he would make them live to regret their defiance.
And he would have his queen back in his arms once more.
The smile that crossed his lips as he lifted the bloody wire and glass from the floor was frightening.
**
At nine years of age, Berwald had known love at first sight.
Sneaking into the Queen's chambers with Soren to see Dad's body, his eyes had fallen upon the abandoned cradle. The cradle where his newest baby brother lay, still bloody and wrapped in a loose blanket, forgotten in the chaos of the Queen's death.
He'd fallen in love at the first sight of lonely violet eyes that seemed to brighten to see him. At the first quiet burble of a newborn's voice.
That night, he'd fallen in love, and he'd never fallen out again.
Matthew had become his, as surely as if Berwald had born him.
And like any mother, Berwald would have died for his child. For his little Matthew.
His only fear as he shielded Matthew from the rage of Arthur's magic was that he would not be strong enough to save his littlest brother. That Arthur would kill him and steal Matthew from his corpse.
And then Matthew had been ripped from his weakened embrace, his fear brought to life, and the pain had overcome him.
Berwald had failed to protect Matthew.
“-a golden cradle holds thee, soft as snow-white fleece unfolds thee.”
Warmth surrounded him.
“Hush my darling hush be still, the world is silent and sleeping.”
A soft touch and a gentle voice humming like an echo in his mind.
...Matthew.
“Matt?” Berwald had tried to ask, though it came out as a strange sound like a poorly played trumpet.
Surely he was in hell, damned to be reminded of his failure for eternity.
The trumpet sound was repeated, echoed and strengthened over and over all around him as it twined together with words Berwald couldn't quite make out, echoing just out of reach, the warmth growing stronger, seeping beneath his skin until he could feel it humming inside of him.
“Bear?” Matthew's voice was choked and hoarse. “Please wake up, Bear! Please, I need you.”
Berwald had never been able to deny Matthew anything, and the desperation in Matthew's voice pulled so hard at his heartstrings that it was like a physical pain.
Opening his eyes, Berwald's vision was blurry and dim, but it was Matthew's face above him, though he could barely make out the violet eyes widened in shock.
“Bear?” Then Matthew was hugging him, the deep penetrating warmth vanishing to be replaced by Matthew's own warmth – how was Matthew bigger than him? “Oh, Bear, I'm so sorry! I never wanted you to be hurt!” Matthew was crying, sobbing desperately against him.
“No, Matt.” More bad trumpeting, pain flowing through his arm as he tried to raise it. The other arm didn't hurt, but it wouldn't work the way he wanted. His fingers... where were his fingers? Berwald wanted to tell Matthew to stop crying, to brush away his tears and hold him close, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but curl his head around Matthew's neck, trying not to think about how long his own neck felt.
What was happening?
What had Arthur done to him?
**
Matthew's hands had been glowing..
It wasn't as shocking as it might have been if Tino hadn't just been changed into a water fowl, complete with webbed feet and wings that had taken him a few moments to get used to, but it was still Matthew, their baby, who had never shown any inclination towards magic before...
But if the swan in his arms was Berwald than it was no wonder that whatever powers Matthew might have would manifest now, the light flowing through Berwald's body as it had before he'd woken up.
Though all seven brothers were close, Tino couldn't deny that he was closer to his twin than any of their brothers, and in the same way, Matthew was close to Berwald.
Berwald, who was the closest thing to a mother that Matthew had ever known.
And Matthew had been trapped in his arms, forced to listen as he screamed, as Father tortured him because he would not let Matthew go.
A sudden warmth at Tino's side distracted him from the sight and his own depressing thoughts. Eduard – because there were some things that could not be lost so easily, and a twin's bond was one of them – was pressing up against him, preening gently at his neck feathers comfortingly.
Never before had Tino been so grateful that words were not needed between them, leaning into the touch as the reality of the situation sank in.
Father had done this to them. Father had cast them aside so easily, so carelessly, in his insanity.
Burying his face in Eduard's feathers, Tino shuddered, unable to escape the breath-stealing sensation of being thrown against the wall, the shock of having his Father turn against him so violently.
And then the pain... the pain that Tino had been sure would kill him.
“Is there someone- oh.” It was a man's voice, thoughtful and quiet. “Hello there.”
Hardly daring to move, and feeling Eduard tense beneath him, Tino's melancholy was lost in the sudden rush of panic. He could hear the nervous rustling of feathers from his siblings, but it was the quiet whimper from Matthew set him into motion.
“Leave us alone!”
Screeching and flapping his wings, Tino threw all of his fear and anger into the defense of his family, striking out at the stranger viciously. He could barely remember a time outside of the fortress Father had hidden them away in, and in all the time locked away, he had never once seen another living person.
Father had said it was to protect them, because people would hurt them if they could.
And now, with Father's betrayal still fresh, Tino did not dare risk Matthew, or any of his brothers on the chance that this unknown man would not hurt them.
He couldn't let them be hurt again.
“Tino!”
Instinctively, Tino went still. The shrill honk rang with Soren's voice, crisp and sharp in the way that demanded obedience.
“I meant no harm, Master Swan.” The man was on the ground, arms scratched and bleeding where he had defended his face, but his voice remained calm, his dark eyes warm as they met Tino's frightened gaze. “Your child is safe here.”
Trying to deny that he had done this, Tino tried speaking, desperate for help. “Please, Soren, I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I'm scared...”
He felt like a child again, helpless and afraid in the face of the unknown.
“Tino.” Eduard pressed himself close, burrowing into Tino's wings. He didn't make another sound, just resting against Tino, his heartbeat a steady rhythm.
“It's going to be alright, Tino.” Soren's voice was steady as he came to stand with Tino. “We're all here together. And no one will touch Matthew so long as we're still here.” Soren hissed as the stranger stood up, fluttering his wings sharply in warning.
“You are a lucky child,” The man was talking again, looking past Tino and Soren to Matthew, “to have such stalwart defenders.”
A glance back showed Matthew curled around Berwald, Lukas and Emil standing in front of the duo protectively. Matthew's eyes were visible, peeking over Berwald's feathers, curious and wary as he eyed the man.
It was obvious that he didn't know what to think.
The man was rather strange-looking, very brown, with tanned skin and ragged brown hair that fell to his chin and green eyes that seemed to smile. To Matthew, who barely even knew that there was a world beyond his family, he must have seemed almost fae.
“Wha's goin' on?” The sound of Berwald's voice tore Matthew's attention away from the man, though Tino was almost certain Matthew couldn't understand the words beneath the ragged swan sound.
Berwald's head was turning, his good wing fluttering nervously, but his beady eyes didn't seem to focus, passing over the man and the swans alike.
“Berwald....” Lukas nudged him, obviously startling him. “Can you see at all?”
“Not w'thout m'glasses. Lukas... wha' happ'ned t' me? Why can't I feel m'fingers? Where's Arthur?”
It was almost funny how talkative Berwald was, but Tino drew in a harsh breath as he realized what was happening. Berwald's eyesight hadn't changed with his body, only now he had no spectacles. And without them, Berwald was all but blind.
“Bear!” Matthew was growing visibly agitated, no doubt imagining pain in each panicked sound. “Don't leave me. I need you! I don't- I need you, Bear!”
It was Emil that approached Matthew, silent save for the rustle of his wings, stretching his neck up to caress Matthew's tear-stained cheek with his beak reassuringly. The former 'baby' of the family, Emil had always loved being able to play the big brother to Matthew, and he didn't seem to mind the way Matthew pulled him close with the hand that wasn't clutching at Berwald.
“I can help.” The quiet offer brought silence to the cave, as all of the brothers stared at the stranger. “Your Bear, he's hurt, right? I'm a healer, and I'm used to working with animals.”
“Who's that'?”
Berwald's question was overshadowed by an outburst from Matthew. “You can help him?” Matthew jumped up to stand over Berwald, not seeming to care that he was naked, eyes wide and fingers clenched in desperation as he ignored Emil's attempts to pull him back down. “Please, would you? I think his wing is broken, and F-Father did something awful to him that made his feathers all black and burnt.”
“I will do what I can,” the man promised, looking around the cave with a wry smile, “if your companions will allow me to see this Bear.”
Tino hissed, but he didn't stand, nuzzling closer to Eduard. Soren backed away, dark eyes watching the stranger carefully as he screeched a warning.
“Touch Matthew and die.”
Berwald was trying to stand, his good wing fluttering awkwardly, as his useless eyes flitted about the room. “Tell m' what's happ'nin'! Who's there? Where's Matt?”
“A stranger. He's going to tend your wounds. I think we're safe – the trolls wouldn't have brought us here if there was danger nearby – but we're going to keep him away from Matthew, just in case. The rest of us can take care of ourselves.”
Tino could have sworn he saw a smirk in Lukas' eyes as he stretched his wings and clacked his beak almost lazily. Well, if they had to be birds, at least they were birds that could do some real damage if they had to.
**
-Lullaby is taken from Seal Maiden: A Celtic Musical.
-Just in case it's not clear, the swans can talk to each other, but to Matt and other humans, it just sounds like honking.
Please tell me what you think. I ended up rewriting this chapter a few times, because I could not get it right. I'm still not sure it's as good as I would like, but I'm ready to move on.
Lovely!Anon: Oh yes, they're free. And Swans are scary! Especially if they have reason to believe you're a threat.
OP: Thanks! They're safe, for now. *evil smile* I hope you continue to enjoy!
--Can I just add that I love DW's character limits!!--
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-06-21 04:05 am (UTC)(link)But once again, poor Ber. And now I want to ship Sweden and Canada. Too bad my current fill is SuFin, or else I'd experiment with that pair
Is that future angst I smell? *Is an angst person through and through*
DW character limit pleases me too. I can fit six thousand word fills in one comment
Re: The Power in Silence - Part 4/?
(Anonymous) 2013-06-21 04:35 pm (UTC)(link)Re: The Power in Silence - Part 4/?
(Anonymous) - 2013-06-23 02:34 (UTC) - ExpandLA
(Anonymous) - 2013-07-02 09:11 (UTC) - ExpandThe Power in Silence - Part 5/?
(Anonymous) 2013-07-18 03:32 am (UTC)(link)Anyway, on with the story.
**
The dark room filled with fog, the flickering torches sustained only by the spells that kept them burning. In the center of the room, a bloody circle was marked on the floor, with a large basin of water placed inside of it.
The lone figure kneeling beside the circle lowered a pair of spectacles into the basin, bent and twisted as they were, they were still a personal item that had been owned long enough to create a connection with their owner. He would find the brats – the demons - that had used him, that had masqueraded as his sons for so long.
The demons that had used his husband, his Queen, as their vessel into this world, and then stolen away his life in return. The demons that had taken advantage of his grief to live like princes, never lacking for anything, all the while hiding his reborn Queen beneath his very nose.
“Show me!”
The fading ripples in the basin twisted and swirled, as an image formed over the top. The demon that had refused to relinquish his Queen visible, made obvious by the dark burns though they were smeared with salve. The demon was moving, touching his Queen, and a deep rage sent a wave of magic through the room that had all the torches flaring high.
Tears or no, the demon would pay. Slowly and painfully, until it begged for an end.
With the scene still playing in the basin, Arthur began a new spell, one that would find his stolen Queen.
**
Herakles was no stranger to the strange and supernatural. His mother had been a witch, and his father, though Herakles had never known him, had been a High Elf, and their union had granted him more than a few gifts.
Even disregarding his heritage, Herakles had been raised in this forest, amidst the otherkin that claimed it as their home, helping his mother to make the remedies and talismans she sold to human and otherkin alike.
This was, however, the first time he'd come across such an unusual situation, much less in his own backyard.
A small child, naked and covered in blood, protected by a number of savage looking birds – Herakles could feel the burn of the scratches beginning to heal on his arms, and he knew from the strength of the small swan's attack that he was lucky not to have broken any bones.
He was even more lucky that it had been one of the smaller swans that had launched itself at him – had the full-grown beast of a bird that had joined it at the entrance way attacked Herakles, he would probably be dead. Not that he begrudged the swans their protectiveness of their boy – given the child's appearance, they had reason to be – only that he preferred not to die just yet.
As it was, Herakles was making his way into what might as well have been a lion's den, moving carefully so as not to startle the birds, acutely aware of the attention they were giving him. The boy watched him with wide eyes, his burst of enthusiasm tamed somewhat as he huddled against the injured swan with a half-grown cygnet at his side.
“What's your name, child?” Herakles kept his voice soft and unthreatening.
For a moment the boy looked surprised, but then he blushed. “ I'm Matthew,” came a soft whisper.
“Matthew. A strong name. I am Herakles.”
It seemed to put the boy at ease somewhat to know Herakles' name, and the tension in his small frame seemed to ease away somewhat.
Slowly, Herakles slipped off his cloak, bending down and holding it out to Matthew. “Here,” he offered, but the boy pulled away. “Aren't you cold?”
A shake of the head was belied by the tint of blue on his lips, but the boy was a stubborn one.
“You said you'd help Bear.”
“I will.” Herakles bit back a smile, seeing the glare in violet eyes. “I just thought you might want some help as well.”
It took one of the swans, nearly full-grown but on the smaller side of the scale with pale feathers the color of sand, to convince Matthew by tugging on the cloth with its beak, though not hard enough to pull it from Herakles' grasp.
“Lukas?”
“I think he wants you to take it.” Herakles gave a light smile. “Go on.”
The cygnet nudged Matthew forward, while the sand-colored swan honked, and together they managed to convince him to step forward until he could grasp the cloak in his small hands. Then he darted away, eyes wide as he pulled the cloak around his shoulders. It was large on him, the hem pooling together, but it covered everything that mattered.
“Now help Bear.” Matthew stood like a little lord, back straight and head high despite the worry and fear that filled his eyes. “Please.”
With a nod, Herakles knelt beside the injured swan, soothing the ruffling of its feathers with one gentle hand. “I'm not going to hurt you, Bear. Your child is worried for you, you know.”
The dark marks across the swan's back were ugly, like scorch marks that melted the feathers. They reeked of dark magic, of hatred and rage, though it seemed to be fading away. As it was, the swan was lucky to be alive, much less conscious, but that he was recovering on his own meant there was little Herakles could do to aid him beyond a salve to ease the pain and cleanse what few remnants lingered beneath the skin.
The wing had a clean break, something he could easily mend with a brace and some bandages, but it was the bits of dry blood that were speckled across every feather that worried him. There was no sign of an injury that would have caused enough of a bleed for it to cover the swan from head to tail, and yet, there was no denying that it was blood.
“What happened to your friend here?”
“He protected me,” Matthew muttered, his hands shaking as he met Herakles' questioning gaze. “Father was going to-” Matthew gagged and fell to his knees, clinging to the cygnet as he trembled. “He was- I-” There were tears in his eyes, but none fell before he buried his face in the feathers.
Beneath Herakles' hands, Bear hissed and struggled, as the swans that had followed Herakles into the cave fluttered their wings and screeched, their cries seeming to calm Bear even as they warned Herakles away from the traumatized boy.
Lukas, the sand-colored swan, joined Matthew, soothing him with gentle brushes of his beak and wing.
Herakles could only watch, not knowing enough about Matthew or the situation to offer comfort, but understanding enough that he was imagining the damage the swans would have done to the one who hurt their child. Perhaps that was where the blood came from.
When Matthew seemed to have recovered, Herakles offered a smile and an invitation. “Come with me.” With careful handling, Herakles lifted the injured swan slowly into his arms, doing his best not to startle him. “I need my things if I'm to care for Bear properly, and you might do well to wash and get some food inside of you.” The beginnings of a protest were cut off. “Your friends can come as well, so long as they don't mind the cats.”
Holding the cloak in place, Matthew stood, cradling the cygnet against his chest, Lukas and the two smaller swans circling him while the large gold swan watched Herakles with a sharp air of protectiveness.
“I'll take care of them,” Herakles found himself reassuring the watchful swan quietly. This was the leader, the one who called off the young attacking swan, and the one who would be the first to strike should harm befall his companions.
The swan hissed, drawing itself up and flaring its wings out in the promise of pain should he do otherwise.
If he had intended harm toward Matthew or the bird in his arms, Herakles might have paled or faltered. As it was, he accepted the warning with a smile and a nod of agreement, moving slowly towards the exit with Bear's weight pulling at his arms, the quiet shuffle of bare feet, human and swan, behind him.
Waiting for Matthew outside of the cave, Herakles offered an encouraging smile when the boy hesitated just inside the entrance.
“Come. My home is just there.” Herakles nodded to the cottage at the other edge of the large clearing. It's a small building, with a little fenced garden visible beside it. It didn't look like much, but it's where he'd lived all his life.
Matthew didn't seem to hear, mouth agape and eyes wide as he stared out over the clearing, seeming to fix his gaze upward on the trees that towered overhead all around them. “Is this a- a woods? Like in the storybooks?”
Had the boy never seen a forest before?
Herakles was kept from voicing the question when Matthew turned to stare at him, the color drained from his cheeks. “Are you a witch?”
“A witch?” Herakles shook his head, forcing down his amusement. “No, child. I am merely a healer.” He could do more than simple healing, but this didn't seem like the time to get into the intricacies of his occupation.
Especially not when the swans seemed to have been agitated by Matthew's questions.
“You won'teatme?” Matthew's voice was so soft, slurred together so fast that Herakles could barely make it out.
“No.” Herakles met Matthew's gaze, his eyes firm and warm. “You're safe with me, you and your friends.”
Really, no self-respecting witch would eat a human child. The powers of a witch often interfered with their reproductive abilities – Herakles' mother had been lucky with him – and one would be far more likely to snatch an unwanted child away to coddle and raise than to boil in a stew.
“Not my friends.” Matthew whispered as he slowly walked from the cave, still encircled by the swans. “They're my brothers.”
Taken aback, though not particularly surprised that the swans had once been human, Herakles nodded. “They must love you very much.”
“They do.” The simple response seemed to shut Matthew down, his face blank and his eyes so full of pain. He didn't speak again, burying his nose in the cygnet's feathers, silently following Herakles across the clearing.
Inside the cottage, Matthew watched in silence as Herakles shooed away several curious kittens to lay Bear down on the rug in front of the cold fireplace, curling up on the floor beside the swan while Herakles dug through his cupboards for the ingredients for the salve he needed. It might have been an amusing sight, such a small child enveloped in his brothers' feathery bodies as the other swans joined him, but Herakles couldn't laugh, deep in foreboding thought.
Human-to-animal transformations were not as easy as the human's tales made them out to be. It took great power, and even greater skill to ensure that it didn't result in some grotesque half-animal, half-man monster. To cast the spell six times... the mage that had cursed them must have been insanely powerful, and that would only make breaking the spell's hold harder.
And Herakles was no expert in spellcraft, relying more on the indirect methods of potions and talismans that were his trade. He'd never needed anything more, never had cause to study spells beyond the basic principles, until now.
With the salve sticky and smooth in the bowl, Herakles knelt beside the rug to apply the paste to the dark burn. Matthew watched him carefully, stroking Bear's head with one hand as he held the cygnet close with the other.
“That'll help him?” Matthew wore an expression of curious distaste, craning his neck to see the green-brown paste.
“It will ease the pain and aid in repelling the remaining dark magic within the wound. He's strong to have fought it off this far, so he should recover fully.”
“Can you change him back into a person?” Matthew looked hesitantly hopeful, wearing a silent plea in wide eyes.
“That is a different matter entirely,” Herakles offered, his heart aching as Matthew's face fell. “I'm no expert on spellcraft, but if you could tell me how the tranformation was accomplished, I can try to find a way to reverse it. Certainly if I can't find one, I may know someone more capable who can.”
With a shiver, Matthew tightened his grip on the cygnet, bolstered by the defensive circle of swans pressed against him, closing his eyes as he began to speak.
“Father- he did this to them because of me.”
**
So... Greece. I'm thinking Matthew or Lukas for the next POV switch... at least I know them.
I am still planning for future pairings, OP, if you have any preferences for Matt or his brothers. As of now, I'm still playing with who's who as the story progresses, so don't be afraid to toss out any random pairings so long as they don't involve in-story incest.
OP:I'm so glad you're enjoying this!
That would be my secret love for SweCan sneaking through... they're just so cute!
There will be angst. I think I'm incapable of writing without angst.
Guessing!anons: That would be Herakles... I'm not sure if I wrote him too calm, but he's not really the type to freak out – unless faced with Turkey.
LA: Matthew is going to have a lot of things he's not used to happen to him. :) Yup, that's Greece. I just hope he stays recognizable.
Thanks all!
Re: The Power in Silence - Part 5/?
(Anonymous) - 2013-07-18 07:29 (UTC) - ExpandOP
(Anonymous) - 2013-07-19 03:01 (UTC) - ExpandRe: The Power in Silence - Part 5/?
(Anonymous) - 2013-08-16 03:55 (UTC) - ExpandLA
(Anonymous) - 2013-08-24 17:30 (UTC) - ExpandThe Power in Silence - Part 6/?
(Anonymous) 2013-08-30 04:09 am (UTC)(link)**
A flash of sparks marked the failure of the fifth attempt to discover the location of his Queen, and the King hissed and cursed.
He could see the place somewhat around the image of the wounded demon, but it wasn't enough.
Whatever protections guarded the hovel were strong, strong enough to ward off his search, but they couldn't hold forever. Certainly the ones he searched for couldn't hide there forever.
It was only a matter of time.
Grabbing another spellbook from the bookshelf, he opened it to a stronger location spell, smiling as he felt something before it failed.
He was getting closer.
**
Never before had Lukas felt such white-hot rage flowing through his veins as he did listening to Matthew's stuttered tale of how he had seduced their father to save their lives. Only the fact that he couldn't seem to work magic in this form kept him from shooting off sparks of fire as Matthew curled over Emil and sobbed his apologies for letting them be trapped in swan forms.
It wasn't Matthew's fault Arthur was insane, nor was he to blame for wanting to see his brothers live.
If anything, Lukas was to blame for not summoning the trolls from the very start. If only he'd been faster...
If he hadn't waited, Matthew might not bear yet another unwarranted burden of guilt.
Except that the pain and Matthew's description of watching them writhe on the ground made it sound like Arthur had been using a sapping death spell. If the Trolls had come before Arthur had stopped, it would have taken little more than a thought to complete the process in an instant, leaving nothing but corpses for the Trolls to steal away.
A wave of icy terror flowed down Lukas' spine at the realization of how close they had come to death, and Lukas pressed himself against Matthew's side, wishing he could tell his little brother exactly what he had done – he had saved them, no matter what shape they were bound to now.
Curses could be broken, transformations undone, but life... life could not be rekindled.
“You shouldn't be so quick to take blame,” Herakles' slow voice is calming and free of judgment as he looks up from Berwald's still form – Lukas was fairly certain Herakles had done something to make him sleep before his wing was set. “You didn't know the Trolls would come. Surely you prefer your brothers alive as birds rather than dead as men?”
Shocked into silence, Matthew nodded, his shuddering sobs quieting as he looked up.
“Don't you think they would agree?”
This time, Matthew's nod came slower, but it did come. Soren and Tino screeched their agreement, while Lukas nodded, looking to the healer in muted approval.
He received a quiet look of understanding, a small smile that seemed to accept his own unspoken gratitude.
Herakles was a good man.
The quiet was broken by Eduard, leaping into the air and honking as a tri-colored kitten mewled pitifully from where it had landed, just missing Eduard in its attack. It was smaller than Eduard, but the way it watched him retreat between Matthew and Soren suggested that it really didn't care.
“Pounce....” Herakles scolded half-heartedly.
“That's my brother!” Tino, however, took the apparent threat to his twin very seriously, extending his wings and hissing menacingly at the small cat, frightening it back to the warmth of its mother beneath the bed.
Matthew looked worried, pulling Emil up against his chest – and out of reach of cats.
“I think, young swan,” Herakles began in a stern fashion, though his eyes were bright with supressed laughter, “that you will have to forgive a kitten's curiosity.” To Matthew, who was watching the cats with wary eyes, he reassured, “My cats will not harm a guest in my home, even a bird-shaped one.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes, though your brave warrior here seems ready to fight off threats of any size.”
As if on cue, Tino ruffled his feathers, folding his wings back against his body with an air of seriousness that seemed to dare any kitten to mess with him as he made his way back to Eduard's side.
Matthew giggled.
He was wearing a timid smile, letting a ruffled Emil back down onto his lap. The sight and sound warmed Lukas' heart, enough that he didn't scold Tino for causing a ruckus in their host's home – it wasn't like the cats could do much damage, especially as only the kittens seemed particularly interested in them and even the largest of those was just Emil's size.
After what Matthew had gone through, what they'd all gone through, it was good to see that he could still smile, even covered in blood – their blood, Lukas had realized with mixed relief and horror upon listening to Matthew's tale – and buried beneath Herakles' oversized cloak.
At least he didn't seem to have been too badly hurt in Arthur's hands.
Now they just had to keep it that way.
Arthur wasn't the type to get over things easily. He'd spent eleven years brooding over the loss of his Queen, and he probably could have gone on until he died of old age if Matthew hadn't caught his eye.
Unless something knocked Arthur out of his insanity, Matthew was never going to be safe.
And anyone who interfered would probably not live to regret it.
Watching Herakles stand at the grumble of Matthew's stomach, fetching a bowl from one of the cupboards and filling it with something from a pot on the back of the stove, his every movement slow and deliberate, Lukas felt a prickle of guilt in his chest.
Herakles had no idea of the danger they put him in just by being here, and there was no way to tell him.
“You should eat,” Herakles told Matthew, crouching down and holding out the bowl in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. “It will do you good.”
Reaching out to take the offering, Matthew smiled nervously. “...Thank you.”
Herakles just smiled back, “I'll get you something for your brothers.” At Matthew's confused look, he explained that swans were better off eating fresh vegetables than the stew he was feeding Matthew, before standing and walking out the door.
Matthew looked at his brothers with wide-eyed concern, clutching his bowl against his chest as though it might hurt them just by existing. Likely he had been thinking of sharing it with them.
“It's okay, Baby Bear,” Soren honked, gently bumping his head against Matthew's, causing the tension that lined his body to ease away. Then he nudged the bowl, “Eat.”
Even without understanding what Soren was saying, the actions were obvious enough that Matthew only hesitated for a moment before dipping the spoon into the stew and lifting a bite to his mouth.
When Herakles returned with an armful of fresh produce, Matthew had already consumed half the bowl. He stopped eating to watch Herakles pump water into a bowl to wash the vegetables, chopping carrots and celery into small pieces and ripping the lettuce apart with his fingers. The end product, which was placed in front of Matthew in a large bowl, was a delicious looking salad.
“No meat?” Soren whined quite loudly.
“Soren?” Matthew tensed, obviously worried.
Soren was an idiot.
With careful precision, Lukas gauged the distance and unfurled his wing sharply, cuffing Soren's side with a nonchalant ease he didn't really feel. “Idiot.”
Now Herakles was looking a little worried, but Matthew's gaze was warm and fond. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning anymore either, familiar enough with his brothers to recognize that Lukas wouldn't be rough with Soren if something was actually wrong.
With a nod, Lukas walked to the bowl, gesturing with his bill for Emil and the twins to join him. “Save some for Berwald,” he told them as quietly as he could. “We don't want to inconvenience the healer anymore than necessary.”
Nodding their understanding, all three began to nibble at the leaves, and once Lukas was satisfied that they were actually eating, he joined them, followed not long after by Soren.
When he looked up from the bowl, his stomach pleasantly full, Lukas saw Herakles looking through a number of dark-looking books and found himself torn between staying beside Matthew and joining the healer in searching for a cure.
In the end, he didn't move. It wasn't like he had any more idea of what spell Arthur had used than Herakles. He hadn't been conscious while it was cast, after all. And as fascinating as those books looked, Matthew needed him, his tired gaze darting upward between each bite as though reassuring himself that they were all there alive and accounted for.
Pressing himself into Matthew's side, Lukas curled his neck around to rest his head in Matthew's lap. Who knew how long it would be before Arthur came looking for Matthew? How long would they be allowed to rest before having to run?
If they even managed to run. When Arthur came for Matthew, they wouldn't even have the advantage of surprise, not that it had been surprise that had saved them this time.
Arthur had underestimated Lukas' ability, not expecting a self-taught amateur without experience to have a full contract with the trolls – though really, it had been the faeries Arthur had contracted with to serve in the castle that had given Lukas the idea to even look for contract magic to begin with – but he wouldn't do so again.
Not that it mattered, since Lukas' magic was locked away in this form. He couldn't even summon a gust of warm air, much less anything that might save them from Arthur.
“Matthew,” Herakles interrupted Lukas' thoughts. “You said your brothers were all changed together. Are you absolutely certain that all of them were transformed at the exact same time?”
The gravity in Herakles voice had Matthew clutching at Lukas so tight that he could hardly breath, his bowl abandoned on the floor, while the others tensed, turning to face the healer. “I don't-” Matthew began, hesitating as he stared at Herakles.
“It's important, Matthew.” Despite the obvious tension in the way Herakles held the book laying open before him, he managed to keep his voice level and almost calm as he explained. “If it was six consecutive spells, there will be a different remedy than if it was a single spell working on all of them.”
Matthew nodded his understanding and squeezed his eyes tight in recollection, “I- I think it was just one. They- they all started screa- screaming again at- at the same time. I didn't....” The blood drained from his face as his eyes opened, his body shaking like a leaf.
Lukas stroked Matthew's face with the side of his bill, Emil and Eduard quickly joining him in offering a comforting touch. Berwald moved, as though aware of Matthew's distress, but whatever the healer had done to put him out was strong enough to keep him asleep, with Soren and Tino working to calm his troubled slumber.
There was a look of dismay on the healer's face as he looked back over his book, and Lukas felt a chill go down his spine. Perhaps they would never be returned to their human form-
“I'm afraid I've found the cure, Matthew.” Herakles paused, his fingers pressed down against the pages of the book. His eyes were dark and serious, his lips drawn tightly together.
Matthew didn't seem to notice, eyes alight with hope. “You did?”
“You should know,” Herakles began, “that it is rare for a mage to have the power and the will to cast a multiple transformation spell, but once cast its victims are bound together. You must cure your brothers together, or the spell will solidify and there will be no cure for any of them.”
Lukas nodded absently, his mind going back to his studies. It was a basic law of magic that spells could not be picked apart and undone piece by piece, but try as he might, he couldn't think of anything that would cause the healer to look so foreboding. Then he recalled the matter of emotional output. The rage and hatred Arthur had born towards them when he cast the spell would require the cure to be painful, evidence of a true love for those who could be the objects of such hate.
And because there were six of them, whatever Matthew had to suffer would be six times as painful.
“What is it?” He stumbled to his feet, wings outstretched for balance as he moved quickly across the floor. “What does Matthew have to do?!”
“Lukas!” The others called out in a chorus of honks and whistles, while Matthew reached out for him too late.
“What is it, Lu?” Soren followed him to Herakles side.
“The cure!” Lukas honked, tugging at Herakles shirt to get the man to let him look at the book. Lukas didn't want Matthew knowing how to break the curse before he knew just how much Matthew would have to suffer because Matthew would hide any fear or pain if he thought he could help them. Matthew would sacrifice himself for them without a thought, never thinking that they might not want such a sacrifice. “It will hurt Matthew. All of Father's hatred went into that spell, and Matthew will have to bear the pain six times over to prove that he loves us enough to counteract it!”
**
Finally. This is very much a transitional chapter, come next chapter things will start happening.
Right!Anon: Yup. I'm trying for a very fairytale-esque villain in Arthur as he slips deeper and deeper into insanity. :)
OP: I am glad you're enjoying the story. I've always loved fairytales – especially making up my own using the bare bones of the original stories.
For pairings, I've actually done some more thinking about the plot and what's happening in the future for this story. I have something planned for France – I'm not telling what because that would spoil it, but it kind of clashes with making him a romantic interest. Right now I'm debating making Matthew end up with either one of the Asians (most likely Japan) or one of the Germanics (either Germany, Switz, or Liechtenstein). Your opinion would be much appreciated in the decision-making process, even if only to decide which family to use.
Honestly, Matthew's the only one for whom a pairing is a necessity, and I'm still not sure I will pair his brothers at all. But if I do, how do you feel about Lithuania as a partner for Finland or Sweden? And one (or both) of the Italies as a partner for the other? Also, would you be terribly upset if I paired Norway with Greece (after the curse is broken, of course)?
I know you said anything would be fine, but I'd rather double check than put in a pairing that might ruin the story for you. :) Especially since it would almost be easier to simply forgo pairings entirely.
Camper!Anon: Thanks for reminding me that there are people reading this! Otherwise I might have dithered over which plotline to go with for even longer. :) It made me smile to see that someone liked my story so much.
Lovely!Anon: I think I'm the late one here... :)
The chaos is going to be spectacular once things get started. :) I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!
<3 to you all
OP
(Anonymous) - 2013-09-01 03:12 (UTC) - ExpandLA
(Anonymous) - 2013-09-02 18:52 (UTC) - ExpandThe Power in Silence - Part 7/?
(Anonymous) 2013-09-12 01:04 am (UTC)(link)**
“I am coming for you, my love.”
He had finally breached the protections around the hovel that hid his beloved, though it had sapped half his strength. Pausing for a breath of air, the King gathered what remained of his powers, allowing himself only a moment to recover.
There was no time to rest.
His Queen was waiting.
**
“Please, tell me!”
Matthew was only eleven, but he wasn't stupid. His stomach was twisted into knots to know that whatever he would have to do had Lukas screeching like a banshee to keep Herakles from telling him, but Soren's looming presence kept him from going to read the book himself.
“Lukas! Please let him tell me!”
Up on Herakles' desk, Lukas shook his head fiercely. If he hadn't been so reverent toward books, he probably would have torn apart the offending pages.
Tears welled up in Matthew's eyes, his voice failing into broken gasps as he fought to keep from crying. This was his fault, so why wouldn't Lukas let him fix it? Beyond that, they were his brothers. He wanted them back the way they were supposed to be and he would give anything to make it happen.
Soren seemed to be trying to comfort him, making quiet noises and brushing away the tears with his beak, but it wasn't helping. All Matthew could think of was the way Soren had pulled Berwald close only the night before, pressing Matthew into a warm, tight embrace between his two grown-up brothers.
We love you, Baby Bear.
Never gonna stop loving you.
The memory was shattered by the image of Soren bleeding on the ground and Berwald's screams echoing in his ears. Matthew had been helpless against father, and they had paid the price.
He didn't want the last memory he had of his brothers as humans to be their screams.
“Soren,” Matthew whispered into his eldest brother's feathers, so quiet as to not let the others or Herakles hear, wiping away tears with one shaking hand. “Please... I know I got you into this. I know you probably think I'm useless, but I want to help. Wouldn't you want to help if you could? ”
The sounds Soren made were indecipherable, they sounded almost angry, but something in the way he held himself had Matthew hoping that Soren was at least considering letting him know how the curse could be broken.
He and Lukas trumpeted across the room, with Lukas' cries growing sharper and more fierce with each moment, ignoring Herakles' efforts to calm him down.
Matthew almost wished Berwald was awake – he always seemed to know what Matthew needed – except that a part of him was afraid that Berwald might agree with Lukas that Matthew couldn't break the curse.
He was scared and his head was beginning to hurt from the noise of two arguing swans and he was still anxious about not being in a place he'd known all his life and he just wanted to be able to curl up in one of his brother's arms and know that they would make everything alright.
But Berwald was still hurt and all of his brothers were swans. Matthew had no right to demand their attention when they had been tortured and changed and all Father had done to him was touch him without clothing – no matter how much his skin crawled and itched at the thought. Not to mention that it wasn't the same if his brothers weren't able to pull him into their laps and tell him that everything would be okay.
So it was no wonder that when Emil tried to climb up onto his legs and reassure him with a touch of cold, hard beak and stiff feathers where there should have been warm skin and gentle fingers, Matthew burst into tears, pulling away from Emil and curling into himself, hiding beneath the oversized robe as he shuddered and sobbed in the dark, unable to stop himself as his emotions spilled free.
The rest of the room fell silent, but Matthew barely noticed, flinching away from his brothers' efforts to comfort him. Guilt twinged in his chest, but it was ignored as he cried harder. He would apologize later, but he couldn't bear the reminder of his complete uselessness - what else could it be when he had gotten them trapped in the bodies of swans and yet couldn't be trusted with the remedy?
“Matthew?” Herakles' voice was calming, warm and nonjudgmental with a hint of worry. “Are you alright?”
Matthew sniffled, wiping his face against the back of his hands and trying to calm down, face flushed and warm from crying so hard. He nodded, an obvious lie, but one that he needed to pull himself together.
He had to be alright.
But when Matthew peeked up out of his dark sanctuary to see Herakles close enough to touch him, hands flat against his legs as he crouched there, green eyes offering a silent invitation, Matthew stifled the surge of panic that welled up inside of him.
For a moment he saw Father reaching out for him, smiling with venom-bright green eyes.
You're mine, love. My love, my queen.
When he came to, there was a row of swans between him and Herakles, whose eyes were still sympathetic and full of warm understanding.
As though he knew that if it wasn't his brothers, Matthew didn't want to be touched.
**
“L-Lukas?” Matthew stuttered. “P-please, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry I- I couldn't save you, but I swear I can fix it! If you'll let me... if you'll let me know how... please?”
Seeing the way Herakles' eyebrows rose at Matthew's words, Soren nudged Lukas forward, ignoring the way Lukas flapped and tried to push him away. Lukas had never been good at expressing emotions, but this was no time for him to be stubborn.
Matthew was still trembling, swollen eyes barely visible above the neck of the cloak, but he wasn't sobbing or fighting desperately to breath anymore.
Soren hated that the weight of Arthur's actions had fallen upon the youngest of them, that if Soren hadn't been so eager to beat Arthur into the floor he might have thought to snap his neck and end the madness before it began, but there was no way to change the past.
Now they just needed Matthew to know that it wasn't his fault. A task made harder in that Matthew seemed to take Lukas' refusal to let him go through the torture of the cure as a lack of confidence in his ability to help them. He needed to know that Lukas was only protecting him. He needed to know that they didn't think him weak for being young and small, that they didn't hate him because Father hadn't cursed him.
“Fix this, Lu.” Soren shoved Lukas closer to Matthew. “I don't care how, but he needs to know you don't blame him.”
“I know,” Lukas snapped, but his wings fluttered, folding tight against his sides, as he reached out to brush his beak against Matthew's forehead, obviously wary that his attentions might not be welcome.
It was a legitimate fear, with the way Matthew had flinched from them only moments before, but it turned out not to be necessary. Matthew even leaned into the touch, eyes fixed on Lukas as though there was nothing else to see.
“I only want to protect you, little one.”
Matthew couldn't understand what Lukas was telling him, frowning as though he'd been scolded even as he sat up, reaching out with shaking hands to pull Lukas closer. Soren realized with a start, watching Matthew's wistful expression, that Matthew was even more alone than any of them, separated from them as he was by his human form and inability to hear their words.
Little Matthew, who couldn't sleep alone and who still needed to be told how much they loved him because he couldn't quite believe it, was completely alone in every sense that really counted. And by refusing to give him a way to help, they were isolating him even further.
“He needs to know.” The words slipped free before Soren even realized he was saying them, but he didn't take them back. The remedy was painful – Soren hadn't been able to make out all the details in Lukas' ranting, but he had managed to understand that much – but it might very well be more harmful to Matthew's well-being to keep him in the dark.
Lukas only turned his head to look at Soren from his perch on Matthew's lap. “You know he won't be able to leave it. He'll think he has to fix this.” There's something in his voice that almost sounded like tears threatening to fall. “And we won't be able to help him.”
“I know. But he should have the choice.”
Lukas didn't respond, but his somber gaze made the words he'd shouted earlier rang in Soren's ears.
He's only eleven! Just a child! We can't ask him to suffer so much for us.
“May I tell him?”
Soren nearly jumped out of his feathers, as Herakles knelt beside him with the old, dusty book open in his lap. Emil was hiding behind his knee, gaze averted with an air of faux innocence.
“No-” Lukas began, only to trail off, looking up at Matthew's pleading eyes. He sighed, pressing himself against Matthew's chest, and then he nodded slowly.
“Matthew, I believe your brothers only wish to keep you safe,” Herakles began, prompting another fierce nod from Lukas and sounds of agreement from Soren and the rest of them. “But I will tell you how the curse can be broken.”
Opening his mouth, Matthew was cut off as Herakles shook his head, bending to read from the book.
“To break the curse of transformation tainted by a heart of wickedness, a pure soul must devote himself to a test of pain....”
With each word, Soren felt his heart breaking, watching Matthew pale to the color of fresh snow, squeezing Lukas so tightly that it had to have hurt.
Stinging nettles picked beneath the bright, full moon by bare hands and then crushed beneath bare feet would yield fibers that Matthew would then have to weave into a shirt – six shirts, in this case, one for each of his cursed brothers. He would have to do it alone as well, Herakles warned, because the touch of another would turn the nettles to dust.
From the moment the task was begun until the last shirt was placed upon the last brother's body, Matthew wouldn't be able to speak a single word. If he he did, the curse would settle and leave them nothing but mindless birds, with no memory of their former life.
“It is a heavy task, Matthew,” Herakles finished, looking up from the book, “and I know that I would never wish such a burden upon any child, but it is your choice to make.”
“But- I don't know how!” Matthew was shaking, with only Berwald and Soren not pressed up against him for comfort. “How do you make a shirt?”
“Matt...” Eduard's quiet utterance seemed to speak for all the brothers. Certainly it spoke for Soren's silent amazement and sorrow that Matthew barely seemed to care about the difficulty of the task or the pain he would suffer.
Herakles opened his mouth, about to answer, when he was cut off by a crash as an elaborately carved wooden disk fell from the wall behind Matthew.
“What-” Herakles' eyes were wide, and for the first time, he seemed completely alert as he set the book aside and rose to his feet. The disk was cracked, a deep split running down the center, and the look of horror on Herakles' face had Soren deeply concerned.
“Mother's protection....” Herakles whispered, kneeling down and running his fingers down the damaged wood. Then he was up, muttering under his breath as he dug through an odd assortment of trinkets on a small, out-of-the way table, finding what he was looking for in a glass flask the size of Matthew's littlest finger and a handful of braided cord
“Someone broke through the main wards on this house.” Lukas sounded scared. “Someone strong.”
“Father?” It was impossible to tell which twin had spoken, but no answer was needed.
Arthur was coming for Matthew.
Herakles came back, kneeling before Matthew and tying the cord around Matthew's neck, ignoring the way he flinched. There was a strange, sun-shaped medallion with runes etched across it dangling from the cord just above Matthew's breastbone.”
“This will protect you and keep you hidden from those who would wish you harm.” Herakles explained as he tucked the metal beneath the collar of the cloak.
“What-”
“Evil is coming. Take this,” Herakles pressed the flask into Matthew's hand, “give it to the first person you meet in the forest, tell them I sent you and that you need to speak with Kiku of the elves. This is payment for their aid. If, and only if, they refuse, show them the amulet. And you,” he looked to the swans, “be careful. Stay out of sight or near Matthew, or someone might mistake you for dinner.”
“What about Bear?” Soren's heart sank as Matthew's eyes fell on Berwald, still unconscious with his wing outstretched and bound to a frame. Even if he did wake, he would not be moving quickly.
“I will keep your Bear safe until his wing is healed.” Herakles promised, and when Matthew gave him a disbelieving look, he continued, “I swear on my mother's grave, I will do everything I can to protect him and return him to your side once he is well.”
Matthew still didn't look like he believed Herakles, but the oath was enough for Soren, who began tugging at the cloak, desperate to get Matthew to safety.
“Go!”
“Matthew! We have to go!”
Hiking up the loose robe so that it didn't restrict his feet, Matthew ran clumsily out the door, followed closely by the rest of his brothers as Soren herded them outside, turning to glare at Herakles before he joined them.
“Take care of Berwald, healer.” It would have been a growl had he been human, and Herakles seemed to understand what he meant, nodding solemnly.
“I will keep your brother safe.”
Soren nodded, hoping that Herakles would live to keep his promise, and then he ran, waddling awkwardly after Matthew until he grew frustrated enough to remember his wings. It took a few false starts, but the swan's instincts were there and soon he was in the sky, watching his family from above even as he called for the smaller swans to take flight, frowning as he only seemed to be able to see one of the twins among the small flock rising from the ground.
But there were no cries for a missing brother, and so Soren relaxed, sure that it was just the way his brothers were crowded together. After all, neither of the twins would allow the other to be left behind.
Distraction resolved, Soren involuntarily glance back towards the clearing, only to catch sight of a thick pillar of dark smoke rising from the trees. His wings fell still for a moment, falling through the air before he finally remembered to flap, and his vision grew blurry as Soren realized that swans were capable of crying.
**
Apparently birds don't cry – that's a very human thing - but they do have tear ducts, so a human in bird form is potentially capable of crying. And, yes, I actually looked that up.
...Please don't hate me.
Responses:
OP: So glad you're still enjoying this. Sorry about the multitude of questions last time, but I wanted to be sure. :)
LA: Hopefully the kitten fluff last time made up for the sheer wave of pure angst this time. :) I had so much fun writing little protective Tino!swan vs. the Kitten... now I just wish I could draw it.
See you all next time.
Re: The Power in Silence - Part 7/?
(Anonymous) - 2013-09-12 09:49 (UTC) - ExpandLA
(Anonymous) - 2013-09-18 16:46 (UTC) - ExpandThe Power in Silence - Part 8/?
(Anonymous) 2013-09-20 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)**
At five years old, all Eduard had understood was that Dad was gone, that there would be no more bedtime stories or pets because they were leaving and Father was too sad, Soren had to deal with all of them and didn't have time to help take care of Eduard's mice, Lukas had his hands full with little Emil, and Berwald was busy with the noisy new baby.
Eduard had hated Matthew, both for killing Dad and for stealing all of Berwald and Soren's attention. And Tino, who didn't understand why Eduard threw things at the baby whenever Berwald wasn't looking, had gone along with it.
No matter how old he grew, Eduard would never forget his sixth birthday, the day he'd nearly killed his six-month-old brother by hiding him under a pile of blankets in the closet so that Berwald and Soren would pay attention to him and Tino for once.
Tino had refused to play along anymore and gone to Berwald.
Soren had shouted at him, driving Eduard to tears, but it had been Berwald's quiet confusion that had left Eduard full of self-loathing. The feeling had only grown worse when, after he'd vented his anger, Soren took Eduard aside and held him close, letting him cry until his head hurt, before reminding Eduard how happy Dad had been as his belly grew, how Dad had let them listen for the baby's heartbeat and feel him kicking.
How disappointed Dad would be to see Eduard hurting his helpless baby brother.
Though Eduard had listened to Soren and grown to love Matthew, he hadn't been able to help the sharp flash of hatred towards Father and Matthew when Tino had been sent flying into a wall, and no matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise, no matter how much he knew that it wasn't Matthew's fault Father had gone insane, he couldn't erase the deep ache of bitterness that filled him at having been changed when Matthew was still human.
But when Eduard caught himself wondering if Father would change them back in exchange for Matthew, his stomach twisted in guilt and loathing. He loved Matthew, and he knew Matthew had suffered just as much, if not more for having to watch and listen helplessly.
Eduard would not let his selfishness hurt Matthew. That staying meant that Berwald would not wake alone and blind in a strange place, not knowing if his brothers were safe or even alive with only a stranger who couldn't understand him, only strengthened his resolve.
“Where are you going?” Tino asked as Eduard tried to slip into the long grasses beside the door.
“I'm staying with Berwald.” Eduard checked to make sure the others hadn't noticed – Matthew was still running, with Lukas and Emil trailing behind, and Soren had yet to exit the healer's hut. “He'll need one of us when he wakes, you know he can't see.”
“I'm staying too!”
“No!” No matter how much Eduard hoped that the healer really would have some kind of defense against Father, he couldn't bear the thought of Tino staying behind as well. Thinking fast, he shook his head. “You can't stay. You'll need to let Soren know I'm with Berwald once Matthew's safe.”
“But-”
“Please, Tino.” Eduard knew better than to order Tino to leave without him – Tino could be so stubborn sometimes. He was far more likely to listen if Eduard begged and didn't give him time to think of staying in Eduard's place. “Please, go.”
For a moment it looked like Tino would refuse, but then his eyes narrowed, his gaze worried and serious as he saw something in Eduard's eyes to change his mind. “You'll come find me? Us? Once Ber is ready?”
“I swear.” Eduard leaned forward to nuzzle against Tino. It wasn't completely a lie - Eduard would do everything he could to keep the promise, though a part of him knew it might not be possible. “I'll find you again.”
And then Tino was gone, waddling quickly after Matthew before they noticed he was gone. Soren followed after, and Eduard watched with awe as his eldest brother took to the sky. He'd known they were swans, but to see Soren flying was amazing.
Still, Father was coming, and Eduard quickly slipped back inside the doorway. Herakles didn't see him, too busy smearing a thick, rough-looking paste into a circle on the floor at the furthest corner of the cottage , and Eduard didn't want to distract him from his task, instead creeping up quietly to nestle against Berwald's side, heart aching as he realized that, for the first time ever, Tino wasn't there to ease his fears.
He was alone.
“Oh.” Herakles was looking up from the circle, warm eyes fixed curiously on Eduard. “Are you staying with your brother?”
Eduard nodded, pressing himself tighter against Berwald as his words dried up in his throat. He'd never had to speak with a stranger before – though he had vague recollections of a small Tino standing in front of him and shouting at someone much taller than them for scaring him.
It was probably a good thing that Herakles wouldn't have been able to understand him anyway.
“Quickly, then.” Herakles rose, lifting Berwald into his arms just as a crack of thunder announced Father's arrival. He always did like theatrics.
“I AM HERE FOR MY QUEEN!
A sharp whistle from Herakles had all the cats – and there were a lot more than Eduard had initially guessed, swarming out from under the bed and the table and above the stove, even a few in one of the cupboards – stampeding for the exit, where Father stood just in front of the open door. Some went around, curving their path to just miss his feet, but most, likely sensing a threat to their master, scrambled their way up Father's legs and torso until they reached his shoulders and leapt off through the door. One brave kitten even made it to the top of Father's head before jumping off.
Eduard couldn't look away, shocked and half expecting that the kittens would be brutally executed for their reckless actions, but Father seemed just as confused, a strange look of disbelief on his face as the last of the cats perched carefully on his shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek before making the jump down to the ground.
“Come on!”
Eduard had almost forgotten about Herakles and Berwald when he was scooped into the air and deposited gently, but quickly, on top of Berwald in the center of the upraised circle. “Don't move. You'll be safe in here..”
Then, almost before Eduard had a chance to process what was happening, Herakles had smeared some more of the paste on top of his head and sliced a deep cut across his own palm, squeezing his hand into a fist until blood dripped down onto the thick paste that formed the perimeter of the ring.
A flash of light nearly blinded Eduard, and when the spots faded, Father was attacking Herakles, his magic flinging the healer up against the wall.
“What have you done with my Queen?”
**
Breathing out a sigh of relief that he'd managed to hide the swans before this man – young, broken Matthew's father – had recovered from the surprise of being stampeded by at least two dozen cats and kittens, Herakles shook his head.
“Your Queen?” Herakles hadn't disbelieved Matthew's tale, but seeing it up close made him realize just how deranged the king truly was. The man certainly looked the part with wild sandy hair that seemed as though it had never seen a comb over caterpillar-sized eyebrows and acid-green eyes. He was powerful, that was true as well, his power leaking from him like blood from a severed artery, but nowhere near as strong as Herakles had expected for one capable of binding six boys with a single spell.
Then again, such a binding did take time to recover from, and it must have taken a great deal of power to sever the the protections Herakles' mother had left him so thoroughly. To have this much left, the man must have been extraordinarily powerful to begin with, not that that changed anything.
Herakles smiled, a vicious smile full of sharp teeth and venom as his dark side came to life. No matter how he tried to emulate his sweet, gentle, almost human mother, he could not deny his father's gifts.
“I know he's here!” The man let Herakles fall, standing over him with an outstretched arm, his fingers directing the invisible blade of magic that danced against Herakles' neck. “You will hand him and the demons over now, or you will forfeit your life.”
“I think not,” Herakles whispered, closing his eyes as he undid the slender chain around his neck and unleashed the wild magic inside of him, causing the floor beneath them to ripple violently, knocking the king to his feet. Thick tendrils of earth and vine shot up from the floorboards, wrapping themselves around the king's legs, the magic humming with glee to finally be allowed to aid the young witch-elf.
“What is this?!”
Even the most powerful of humans needed spells to control magic, to collar it and force it to obey – though a select few could cast those spells with nothing more than gestures or thoughts.
Herakles needed nothing, because he could not control his magic. It was a part of him, eager and wild, yet so unruly that he did not dare allow it free reign. It was the nature of the Fae, beings that were magic personified, and yet, only being half-elf, Herakles' magic was part of him and separate at the same time.
It was because of this unpredictability, that Herakles preferred to rely on the magic that existed in the world around him, coaxing it into amulets and potions as his mother had, but when all of his being was focused on keeping Matthew and his brothers safe, on protecting the helpless boys tucked away in the hidden circle, his magic followed suit.
“You are powerful, but this is my home, and I have no sympathy for one who would turn on his own kin.”
“You dare!” A burst of flame cut away the tendrils working their way up the king's body – obviously he knew better than to try and fight the elements with nothing but raw magic. “I have no kin, only my Queen.”
Herakles flinched as the sparks caught on the pages of the books still spread out across his desk, his magic recognizing the fear for all that he had left of his mother and his anger that this man did not seem to comprehend how much he had hurt his children and lashing out, the very earth beneath the small cottage tearing through the floorboards and throwing itself at the fire and the man alike.
“I will have my Queen.” The king spat out a curse, summoning a fireball that engulfed the interior of the small cottage before he vanished with a flicker – the coward, to escape when his power grew low.
Only the shield of earth that wrapped itself around Herakles instinctively protected him from catching fire himself, and he hoped that his will to protect Bear and the timid little swan would have his magic protecting them as well.
The blood-powered paste would hide the swans from sight and actively discourage anyone from approaching, but it would not prevent physical harm. Herakles' magic had left that corner untouched, but he had no control over the king's magic.
Fighting to breath as the flames grew higher, consuming everything they touched – his mother's rocking chair, the table and chairs he'd helped her carve, everything he had to remember her by – Herakles pushed aside his grief, calling out for the swans.
“Little one!” He still didn't know the small swan's name, and he didn't know if Bear was even awake. “Little one!”
A tiny, messy yellow swan stumbled forward out of thin air, breaking the circle with his webbed feet and revealing the larger swan, Bear, making desperate sounds, but remaining as still as he could beneath a small pile of dirt.
“It's alright, Bear.” Herakles was almost certain that the swans could communicate with each other, even if he could not understand them, but a little reassurance never hurt. “Your Matthew is safe, and I'm going to get you out of here.”
The fire was growing hotter, and even Herakles' magic wasn't going to be able to hold it off for long, so he knelt beside the remnants of the circle and reached out to cradle Bear into his arms, murmuring soft words of reassurance as he did.
“Jump on, Little One,” Herakles called, knowing the small swan wouldn't be able to get through the fire on his own. “Careful... that's it.” He adjusted his grip to better hold both the swans, smiling as the timid child burrowed into Bear's feathers, and then he turned his gaze to the wall in front of him, begging his magic to cooperate.
With a air of what seemed like smug pleasure, the wall crumbled open a door-sized hole, just large enough for Herakles and his passengers to fit through, and Herakles escaped, not letting himself look back until he reached the small stream that ran just inside the forest. There he laid the swans down on the sandy grass, gasping for air as he knelt and drank deeply from the stream before turning to look at the inferno that was his home.
What did he do now?
Bear was in no shape for traveling anywhere, and Herakles wasn't about to leave him alone. Not when he'd promised Matthew that he would keep him safe.
“What happened?”
Only the familiar voice, quiet and hoarse from lack of use, kept Herakles from jumping, instead turning his head to see Gupta standing beside him, clad in his usual loose robes, his dark eyes fixed on the flames and a number of proud looking cats circling his legs, not seeming to care that vines had snagged his feet as Herakles' magic reacted in his stead.
Frowning, Herakles shrugged, noting with worry that though Bear had tensed at Gupta's voice and his head had turned to face the newcomer, his gaze had focused on the air just to the left of Gupta's shoulder. Little One didn't seem to have the same problem, wings bristling nervously as he honked and whistled.
The sounds had Bear calming a little, wrapping his neck around Little One and pulling him closer, but it didn't ease Herakles' worries.
“Herakles?”
Gupta was annoyed at something, and when Herakles looked up from the swans, it was to see the vines quickly making their way up his friend's legs. Groaning a little, Herakles grasped the thin chain that blocked his magic where it hung from a clip on his collar and drew it back around his neck with only a pang of regret at the way his magic seemed to beg to be allowed to stay out, the vines jumping away from Gupta's legs. Shaking his head, Herakles offered silent apology and locked the clasp shut, shuddering and collapsing as a sudden wave of exhaustion overtook him.
It was always tiring to lock his magic away, but it would pass soon enough.
Soon enough..
Herakles' eyes fell shut, and he was asleep before he even realized what was happening.
**
I probably could have kept going, but I am trying to keep my chapters all relatively the same size, and this one was threatening to become enormous if I didn't put my foot down.
That said, Matt's family has issues. And hopefully Herakles and his magic use made sense.
Next time: Matt gets lost, Arthur recovers, and (hopefully) this plot actually goes somewhere.
Curious!Anon: I swear, it was going to be Tino, but Ed needed a chance to grow without anyone hovering over him like Soren and Lukas, and maybe even Emil, would if he stayed with them without Tino. Kiku will probably show up in a few chapters – Matt's got to find him first. :)
L!A: Not Tino. :) And Matt hasn't even had a chance to deal with knowing how to break the swan curse, poor thing. I originally thought I could keep this story short, but I don't think that's going to be happening.
Re: The Power in Silence - Part 8/?
(Anonymous) - 2013-09-22 07:49 (UTC) - ExpandLA
(Anonymous) - 2013-09-30 09:20 (UTC) - ExpandRe: The Power in Silence - Part 8/?
(Anonymous) - 2013-10-16 17:00 (UTC) - Expand