I'm reading a textbook on young adult literature, and AO3 is (positively) mentioned as a major source of fan fiction. Scholars recognize that fan fiction is a space for people to creatively interpret works by writing from different perspectives, points of view, settings, and others. I mean, we already knew this, but I find it interesting that academia not only recognizes this but formally studies it.
This needs significant revision and expansion, but I am taking classes again, and the fall semester is just busy for my line of work. The usual caveats for the @inklings-challenge. Enjoy!
Crickets chirped. Owls hooted. The breeze blew. Trees swayed. Stars and moon shined. The forest promised a peaceful night, but the labored gasps of a fleeing woman shattered such delusions.
Agatha rushed through the forest brush, darting from tree to tree. There was a trail not far off, but she dared not take it nor stray far from it. The duke’s soldiers surely weren’t far behind and would easily see her on the trail, but she didn’t know this land as her father did. That trail was her lifeline to whatever safety lay ahead. The full moon above dispelled most of the darkness. The trees were her cover, and they did not provide much. Barking dogs and distant shouts grew ever closer. These same trees would likely be her headstone.
There were four of them. Four thin men in rags begging for scraps at the gate of her father’s estate. Not knowing who they were or where they came from, Edward Castillo took them in, fed them, and gave them clothes and a place to stay. They pledged their service to this wealthy merchant, and for months, they lived in peace. Word of this kindness eventually reached the ears of Duke de Goya. The duke was so moved by this act that he sent a regiment of soldiers to the Castillo estate to raze it to the ground.
The four men were escaped prisoners, notorious bandits waiting to hang for numerous robberies and murders.
The estate guards were no match for trained military, but they provided precious moments to let Edward and Agatha escape. The four servants knew they weren’t getting a third chance and took up arms with the guard. A mile into their flight, Edward caught an arrow to his back. He urged his daughter to keep running. More arrows from behind gave evidence to his argument. Whatever happened after, Agatha did not know, but the din quieted for a short time before beginning anew. She did not know how much time had passed since.
It seemed the forest was not entirely blind to her plight. Storm clouds had gathered from the east and loomed closer as she ran. The first ominous puffs passed across the moon as the wind combed through the trees and distant thunder rumbled. Perhaps it would be enough to throw the dogs off her scent. Still, she could hear their constant chatter break through the gusts. She could not afford to stop and rest, but she felt less concerned about using the trees for cover.
The lack of concern was necessary as the terrain turned uphill and rocky. She would have to run closer to the trail to maintain any semblance of speed. There was simply too much to climb over anywhere else. The occasional sprinkle of rain assaulted her, confirming her decision. If the stonework at home got slick in the rain, surely the rocks out here would do the same.
She heard it. Amid the wind, thunder, dogs, and rain, she heard it: a cascade of water, far heavier than the steadily increasing drops around her. It was just ahead. Maybe it would have a good place to hide. It was a slim hope, but it was enough to thrust off her exhaustion and press forward with a quivering yelp. She sprinted up the trail as much as her aching limbs allowed, and soon she reached it. The trail led to a recess in this large hill, and in it was a glade. The glade contained a small pond that fed a stream that weaved its way out of the glade and down the hill. The trail followed the stream wherever it went. A waterfall fed the pond at the edge of the recess. While the flashes of lightning provided glimpses of detail, glowing mushrooms faintly lit the entire glade with greens, yellows, and purples. The sight was enchanting.
It was enchanting enough that Agatha lost sight of what she was here for. The barking of hounds shook her back into reality. Four dogs surrounded her, and arriving shortly after were the soldiers who pursued her, also four. Agatha picked up a rock about the size of her fist and threw it at a dog. The stone cracked against the poor animal’s skull, and it writhed on the ground, whining in pain. A soldier attended to the injured dog while the remaining drew their weapons. Agatha stumbled back, slipped, and fell to the ground. The soldiers approached her.
“We’ll make this quick,” the soldier in the middle said matter-of-factly as he raised his sword to run her through. The two flanking him did not raise their weapons but looked like they were prepared to run. There was no escape. Agatha raised her arms against her face and cried for help.
Several moments passed. Nothing happened. No stabbing, no pain, no blood, nothing. She looked back at the soldiers standing over her. They stood motionless. The one in the middle had thrust his sword, for it was just inches from her chest, but he stopped. The rain stopped. The waterfall behind made no noise. The wind didn’t howl, and a bolt of lightning remained in the cloud, unable to finish flashing. It was as if the entire world except her froze in place.
“Hey,” a voice whispered in her ear.
She looked around but saw no one.
“Hey,” whispered a little louder. “Over here.”
A little tinkle came from the tip of the sword in midstab. Appearing into view was a miniature woman, just a couple of inches tall, clothed in a strange, shimmering cloth. The translucent material threatened to reveal all, yet it didn’t. Her hair seemed made of fine strands of silver, and her eyes were like emeralds.
“Who…how…?” Agatha gasped.
“Are these brutes bothering you?” the lady said. “How awfully rude of them. What should we do with them? Should we make their heads pop like balloons? Maybe we could melt them like ice? Oh, I know! They would make great piñatas!”
“I…make them go away.”
“What?”
“They…did what they were supposed to do. Just make them leave. They don’t deserve to die.”
The little woman looked Agatha up and down several times.
“Oooh? We just met, and you’re already making things interesting!” She grinned mischievously and pointed right at Agatha, right down to her soul. “You’re mine.”
Slowly, time restored to its normal flow. The little woman glowed as she faced the soldiers and dogs. Dark energy flowed out of her into the shape of a large, horrific mask roughly the size of the three soldiers combined. The three healthy dogs fled, yelping in fear. The three soldiers cried in shock, seized up, and fell unconscious. The fourth soldier was focused on the injured animal, his hands covered in blood as he tried to save it. The blow from the stone hit harder than it appeared, and the dog perished from the shock. He looked up at the sound of his mates collapsing, and he, too, seized up. His mind rushed with new memories. Memories of a woman who resisted and fought bitterly, of comrades who died, of the woman whom he subdued, took advantage of, and brutally executed. The blood on his hands was proof of such deeds not done. He shrieked in terror, scrambled to his feet, and rushed back the way he came to deliver news of his mission and invent stories to hide false atrocities. The little woman chuckled to herself.
“Not bad, Lilith. Not bad. You still got in ya,” she said.
“But,” Agatha said, pointing at the three unconscious men. “Make them go away, too.”
“I’m a faerie, lady, not some genie. I don’t grant wishes. I do things my own way and on my own terms. Also, you owe me.”
“Oh,” Agatha said, downcast. “I suppose I have no choice. The duke’s men razed my father’s estate.”
“Hey!” The faerie flew in front of Agatha’s face, irritation clearly written on her face. “I said you owe me. I said nothing about making your life miserable in the process.”
Agatha stared back.
“Your father is…”
Agatha teared up.
“Right. Well, take your time, uh…”
“Agatha.”
“Yeah. Take your time, Agatha. Ol’ Lilith here, that’s me, I’m gonna keep an eye on those bozos, and I’m gonna keep this place hidden from prying eyes. You’re safe here, so let yourself go. We’ll talk about repayment when you’re ready. I swear it’ll be good!” Lilith gathered Agatha’s face in her tiny hands and gave her a peck on the nose. With a flick of the wrist, there was food and drink for Agatha, and another one carried the sleeping soldiers to a different corner of the glade while a tangle of vines rose up and buried the poor dog.
---
For several days, Agatha wept and mourned. In a single night, she lost her father, many beloved servants, and her entire way of life. Lilith frightened her. The spared soldiers frightened her. The world around frightened her. However, the faerie’s gentle encouragement, plus a few choice pranks on the hapless soldiers, pulled Agatha through.
“So,” Lilith said one evening, “I bet you’re wondering what I want you to do.”
Agatha nodded slowly.
“See that trail over there? The one you were running on?”
Agatha nodded again.
“That’s an old supply route that is still used pretty regularly. Because I’m hiding you right now, you haven’t seen them, and they haven’t seen you, but there have been about twenty different little troupes that have passed by. Nobody likes to stay here, though, because of the glowing mushrooms and stuff that make it all look like some kind of strange, evil witchcraft. There’s no magic going on here. They’re just bioluminescent.”
Agatha tried to mouth “bioluminescent.”
“They naturally make light of their own.”
Agatha nodded yet again, not quite sure what that meant.
“Thing is, I like people being around because they’re interesting and fun, and I like playing pranks, but nobody wants to stop here. So, we’re going to fix that!”
“Okay,” Agatha said. “How are you or we going to do that?”
“An inn! We’re going to build an inn! And you’re going to manage it!”
“What? I don’t know the first thing about building anything! And don’t we need tools for that? Are we going to cut all these trees down? And…and…” Agatha quieted down as Lilith stood impatiently in front of her face. The faerie said nothing but instead pointed behind her. The three soldiers stood there. They were dressed in simpler tunics while their armor and weapons lay in a pile further away. The middle one waved and smiled awkwardly.
“Hi. I’m Hans,” he said.
“Friedrich,” the left one said, trying not to make eye contact.
“Gunther,” the right one said while studying each blade of grass on the ground.
“We can build some things, yeah,” Hans said. The others nodded. “Is, uh, you know, Bjorn ever going to come back? He would be a great help.”
Lilith giggled nervously.
“Oh, don’t you worry about him. I’m sure the duke has him doing some other very important things,” she said.
“Oh. Well, the duke did like giving him jobs,” Hans said. The others nodded harder.
“What happened to Bjorn, Lilith?” Agatha whispered.
“I sent him away, making him think you’re all dead,” she whispered back.
“What are you going to do when we don’t need the muscle anymore?”
“You’ll figure something out. And, besides, muscle can be used for things besides building. You know, hunting, cooking, smashing, smithing, guarding, and a whole lot of other…” She waved her arms around. “You know, other…ings!”
“This is awkward,” Agatha said. She marched over to Hans, who steeled himself for whatever retribution was coming for him. He didn’t expect to be embraced, and he looked at Gunther, Friedrich, and Lilith for some indication of what was going on or what he should do.
“My family made a horrible mistake, and you were just an instrument of the duke’s wrath,” Agatha said. She embraced Friedrich and Gunther in turn.
“Let’s start over. Hans, Friedrich, Gunther, I am Agatha.”
“We’re sorry, Lady Cas–” Hans started.
“No. My family is dead. I am just Agatha now.”
“Okay, Agatha,” he said. “Let’s build an inn.”
---
The inn took several months to plan and build. Lilith supplied the tools needed to build the structure, but the men struck out each night to cut down trees and gather materials where and when they wouldn’t be noticed. Agatha, on the other hand, found stray livestock and learned to keep animals. Hans, who once was poised to kill Agatha, taught her how to use the blade to defend herself. Gunther took to blacksmithing, and Friedrich learned to forage and hunt. They became a tight little community, and Lilith was the mortar that held them together with her magicks supplying what they could not. In time, they had a building with many comfortable rooms, stables for weary animals, the ability to repair broken equipment, and a steady supply of food and goods for themselves and their prospective guests. Lilith let the illusion down, and the inn Hidden Solace was open for business.
The first few weeks were rough as none of them had ever done anything like this, but they learned quickly through their mistakes. Fortunately, many who first stayed were grateful to have the rest stop despite the weird mushrooms. At night, Hans kept watch while Friedrich searched the land for supplies. Traders were happy to do business. The inn would succeed, and word spread of Hidden Solace as one of the best open secrets in the land. Word of that success eventually tickled the ear of one duke, and he simply needed to know more about what was happening on his land.
“Leave now, or we will force you to leave,” Agatha addressed the contingent of soldiers.
“Who? You and these three men? Hey, Hans, aren’t you supposed to be dead?” the sergeant said. Hans shrugged and shook his head.
“Duke de Goya has no business here. Leave,” Agatha said.
“I’m sorry, but you’re on the Duke’s land, and you haven’t been paying taxes for this establishment,” the sergeant replied.
“It doesn’t take a hundred men to collect money.”
“It helps to enforce the law.”
Agatha threw a sack of coins at the sergeant’s feet.
“Will this cover everything?”
The sergeant got off his horse and inspected the contents.
“Yes, this will cover everything, and then some. Still, we’re under orders to burn the place down. The duke likes things done his way. Men!”
The soldiers took a step toward the inn, but that was as far as they got. A swirl of black energy formed into the shape of a giant, malevolent mask. Memories of a terrible battle against monsters and demons filled their minds, and they fled. Friedrich shot an arrow into the sergeant’s saddlebags. Attached to it was a note explaining where to send the next tax collector if the duke wanted to avoid any of those beasties getting bored and venturing out.
A letter came back the next week: the duke agreed.
---
Derrick quaked up in the tree. Never had he been so scared for his life. It was a simple plan. He and his buddies would point their swords at merchants, and they would pay a small sum to keep going unharmed. The old trade road had gained in popularity in recent years, and it was relatively safe and therefore unguarded. What could go wrong?
He didn’t count on Duke de Goya getting word of his deeds. Everybody knew the duke to be a fair, just man, which meant bad things for someone like Derrick. Now the sheriff and his men were after him and him alone: his friends were already swaying in the wind outside the sheriff’s gaol. There was no way he could outrun them. His only bet was to reach that inn. He heard the duke and his men didn’t go near there.
At the sound of footsteps on the brush below, he willed himself to stop shaking, clung tightly to the trunk, and held his breath. His cloak was rough, brown, and covered in leaves. Hopefully, it would provide enough camouflage in the dim light of the forest. Four men appeared below. One studied the ground, two constantly surveyed the area around them, and one looked up through the trees. They traveled at a brisk pace. The one studying the ground muttered his frustration at losing that thief’s tracks. The two surveying pointed out possibilities but couldn’t find anything conclusive. Then the one studying the trees pointed at a suspicious lump. Without a word, he brought up a crossbow and fired. The bolt struck the tree trunk, barely a half-inch away from Derrick’s head. Derrick fought with all his might to remain still and conscious. He dared not breathe for fear that it would be heard, not to mention any screaming he wanted to do. The tree man stared at the lump for a moment, shook his head, and the four moved on.
Derrick waited a few moments longer before he let out the tiniest whine. He resumed shallow breathing and slowly let it return to normal. He was sure he would need to clean his trousers when this was over. If he made it. Slowly, he turned his head to look for his pursuers. Seeing nobody, he quietly descended the tree and made his way to the glade in the hill, to Hidden Solace.
He stalked his way through the forest, keeping an eye on the trail, climbed the rocks of the hill, and found his way to the glade. It was the most enchanting thing he had ever seen. This was no small house on the side of the road. This was a luxurious little mansion next to a pond, and were those glowing mushrooms? No wonder people took this road.
A shout from behind reminded him that he was still in trouble. He looked around, saw a woman tending animals, and ran toward her.
“Help! Help! They’re after me!” he cried.
The lady jumped at the surprise. A nearby guard, who appeared to be lazily taking a nap, quickly roused with sword in hand. Derrick held up his hands, got as close as he dared, and fell to his knees.
“The duke’s men are after me! Please, you’ve got to help me!”
“Why are they after you?” the lady asked. Derrick, too exhausted to concoct a story, could only sputter some noise.
“Why are you after him?” she asked the sheriff’s men as they approached.
“He’s a bandit wanted by the duke,” one answered.
The lady looked at Derrick and then back at the men.
“Does he have a bounty on his head?” she asked. The man who answered laughed.
“Yes, actually, he does. Are you looking to collect on your good fortune?”
“Not exactly. How much is his bounty?”
“800 gold.”
“Yeah, I know, but we need the help,” the lady said seemingly to herself. “We’ll make it back and then some. Isn’t this how you helped me, Lilith?” The man looked at her expectantly and motioned for a subordinate to bring her a bag of coins.
“No. I am not collecting the bounty,” she said. The men froze and looked at each other.
“Will you give us the bandit, then?” the man demanded.
“No. I will give you this, instead.” A blacksmith stepped out of the inn carrying a fatter bag of coins and handed it to the duke’s men.
“I will pay the duke twice the bounty. In return, this man will become my prisoner. He will never leave here for as long as he lives.”
The man thought for a moment, and then he took the payment.
“It’s a shame the bandit tripped on the rocks and fell to his death. I guess we should go home.” The men left. Derrick stood up and dusted himself off.
“Thank you. I–” he started before a blade pressed itself against his throat.
“That was a binding transaction, bandit,” the lady said. “You were on the duke’s hit list; now you are my prisoner.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess I am. Can I not have that up in my neck? It’s cramping my style,” he said.
“Press a little harder, Hans,” she replied. Derrick gasped for air as the blade exerted more pressure.
“Listen here,” she started and waved her hand in his direction.
“D-Derrick,” he said.
“Listen here, Derrick. Do not think about crossing us. We are not people to be taken advantage of. Even if you managed to pull it off, you’re a dead man once you step outside of this glade. We won’t even give you the courtesy of killing you ourselves. It would be more satisfying to hear how you fled and struggled for hours and days until the duke’s men eventually catch you, torture you, and have you hang from the gallows.”
“You’re a special kind of evil, lady,” he said.
“Should I have Hans press a little harder?”
“No, ma’am! No, ma’am! I’ll behave!” Hans took the blade away. He massaged his throat and fell back to his knees. His life was over. He was stuck here, and who knows what he would be forced to do…and then the lady knelt before him and lifted his chin.
“It will be okay, Derrick. We’re all prisoners here in some form. This is your home now. We have a room for you to rest, food to eat, and fulfilling work to be done. Your bandit days are done, but your life is not over.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. I’m Agatha, and the little lady you are about to see is Lilith. She will get you up to speed on things. For now, I have work to do. Also, it seems like you need a change of clothes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said sheepishly. A miniature woman suddenly appeared in front of him. He jumped back and yelped.
“Okay! It’s time for new employee orientation! First, we need to establish your uniform, and hoowee, we need to get you changed into that quickly. Do you want to dress as a pig, a cow, or one of those frilly maids with the miniskirts?” She drooled a bit at that last choice.
Derrick whined.
---
That was how Hidden Solace gained staff. It became a refuge to prisoners, orphans, and outcasts who dared to challenge the myths of the glade and were rewarded with a second chance. Agatha and Lilith did what was necessary to drive off the duke’s men. Hidden Solace grew to accommodate new workers, which in turn allowed it to offer more services and space to weary travelers. In time, it seemed the duke’s intervention was more ceremonial. He lost unwanted people, Agatha gained new hands, and the inn, the trade route, and the area’s economy were better for it. Still, all good things came with a price, and it was time for Agatha to pay hers.
“Don’t move, old friend,” Agatha said as she entered. Hans lay in his bed, coughing laboriously. He hacked up some black phlegm, which he spit into a bucket next to the bed.
“Agatha,” he said weakly. She grabbed a stool, sat next to him, and clasped his hand.
“Forty years. Forty years we’ve been here,” he said
“Has it been so long?”
“It was a good run.”
“Don’t say that,” she chided. He laughed into another coughing fit.
“I wish we had met under better circumstances,” he finally said.
“But then we wouldn’t have had this life,” she said.
“No, no, you’re right. But maybe it would have been something else good. I was a good soldier, you were a merchant’s daughter. Perhaps we would have traveled together. Perhaps we would have been friends. Perhaps we would have found love and made a family. This couldn’t have been the only good outcome.”
“We’ll never know.”
“I need you to know something before I go,” he said with a cough.
“Come now, you’ll make it through this,” she said with a tear falling.
“Please, I must. We razed your father’s estate, but I…my sword was the one that killed him.”
She clenched his hand harder as more tears fell.
“I forgive you,” she said. “I forgive you. Please, rest knowing I hold nothing against you.”
“I’m so relieved. You know, you haven’t aged a day since you got here.”
“Now you’re just flattering me,” she laughed.
“It’s true, though. There’s a picture of you in the lobby, one that artist painted of you when we started. Look at it, and look in the mirror. You’ll see that I’m right.” He coughed harder and spat more phlegm.
“Okay. Okay, I will.”
“Be good to everyone you meet, just as you have me. I’m sorry my end will do what I tried to do all those years ago.”
Agatha said nothing but held his hand as he coughed one last fit, and then he slowly sank into his pillow as his final breath rattled through his throat. Agatha wept for some time before she let Gunther and Friedrich take his body to bury. The two of them were just as old and struggled to do the job until Derrick assisted them.
Agatha floated around the inn unaware of where she was going. She didn’t care, either. One of her dearest friends was gone. Gunther and Friedrich surely weren’t far behind. And then she stood in front of that painting. Two years after the inn was built, an artist stayed at the inn. He mentioned how the duke commissioned him for a portrait, but he wasn’t expected for a couple of weeks yet. He offered to paint Agatha a portrait as thanks for a wonderful place to stay despite the weird rumors. She agreed. He didn’t take long to make the painting, but it was a masterful work and hung up in the lobby since. She remembered it was a wonderful portrait and always heard praise over the years, but until today she never took a close look at it since it was installed. The lady in the portrait was young, in her mid-twenties, with dark brown hair and brown eyes, fair skin, dressed in a simple blue gown and poised like she was ready to receive guests. Her stance suggested the refinement and poise of one who knew wealth, but her face spoke of humility learned and gratitude for her guest.
Agatha walked briskly to her private quarters and opened her vanity to look at the mirror. Staring back at her was the same woman in the painting, only a few years older. She was in her sixties, but she looked like someone half her age. She touched her face and stared into her bewildered reflection.
“It’s me. I’m doing this,” Lilith said beside her.
“Lilith? But, how?”
“Remember how we met? When I said that you were mine? Well, I kinda sorta maybe bonded myself to you. It’s how I can do all those crazy things that drive people away. You’re going to live a very long life because of that. But…”
“I have to watch everyone else die,” Agatha finished.
“Yeah.”
Agatha stood silent for several minutes. There were far worse places to live a long life than Hidden Solace. It was lively. It was peaceful. There were fresh faces to meet, and familiar ones to catch up with. New people to save. More lives to turn around. But every single one of them would one day see her for the last time. They would go to their final rest, and she would be burdened with their memory. There were scissors and other pointed objects nearby that may do the trick. No, that wasn’t the answer. Burdens had to be carried, and this was hers.
“Someone who seemed to live forever would add to the mystery of the place, wouldn’t it?” she said.
---
Two whole generations passed. Servants and visitors alike, Agatha watched two generations of people come and go. Rumors spread about the long-lived manager of Hidden Solace. Some said she was a witch who made a pact with the devil for immortality. Some thought she was really the daughter or granddaughter of the first. Some were certain there was a stable full of women who made themselves look the same. A few thought a faerie might be involved, but that was just silly superstition. There was one who knew the truth, and he rode up to Hidden Solace with his personal guard with a proclamation in hand. Agatha was tending to her cattle when he did. He dismounted, approached her, and knelt with some difficulty, for he was just past middle-age.
“Lady Castillo,” he said. Agatha studied the man for a moment. He bore the crest of de Goya on his tabard.
“I haven’t been called that in over a hundred years,” she said. “Why is His Grace kneeling before me?” The man looked up at her. His eyes were shrewd yet kind.
“Even though we’ve never met, I want you to know I bear you no ill will.”
“Are you his son?”
“Grandson.”
“I see. What business do you have with me?”
“I am here to mend past wrongs and impart a gift to you.”
“Come inside. My attendants will see to you and your men’s needs. I must finish my duties here first.”
“Of course,” he replied. He grunted toward his guard and pointed at the stables. The inn came alive with activity, with servants and attendants preparing food, tending horses, and entertaining the new and important guests. Agatha hurriedly tended to her animals, selected a cow, slaughtered it, and prepared the meat for the kitchen. After cleaning herself off, she called an attendant to her office.
“Send the duke here,” she said. The attendant bowed and left. She fussed with her hair, paced around, and tried to control her breathing. Memories of that night burned brightly as if they had just happened. She shook her head. He had nothing to do with that. He may not have been born yet. She jumped when the door opened.
“His Grace, Duke Fernando de Goya,” the attendant announced. The duke walked in, tipped the attendant, and bowed before Agatha, who curtsied in kind.
“You look just like him, but a little older,” she said. “His hair was a little peppery, but he was about as old as my father if I remember correctly. How did you know it was me?”
“An odd connection. I read about how the magicks of faeries trick people and somehow extend the lives of their hosts.” She raised an eyebrow.
“You believe I have a faerie?”
“There was a man who returned to the castle that night. Bjorn. He talked about how Agatha Castillo somehow managed to fight off four trained soldiers and kill three of them before he subdued her. In his rage, he raped and then executed her very slowly and painfully. Somehow, there was blood on his hands even with the storm that blew in, giving some credence to his story. Still, his mind was already far gone, and he lived the rest of his days in madness. Even another trained fighter would have difficulty against four other trained opponents. He also never said anything about the fourth dog he took to find you. The other three returned home, afraid but well.”
“Grandfather had his doubts about the whole mess, but he was convinced Bjorn’s story was false once he started sending men here to handle business. Your father was known to be compassionate to a great many people, and the way you took up for all those who sought refuge here was just like him. Grandfather always wondered how you lived through it.”
“Are you here to finish the job?” Agatha asked.
“No. Not at all. Grandfather regretted that night. In fact, he was grateful every time you pushed his men back. He was rash, and he knew it. Those men your father took in were bandits, but that could have been handled with a few guards and a letter demanding their arrest and why. You were a sort of counterweight that helped him understand how to treat his people.”
“So, we’re back to my original question: why are you here?”
“Well, for starters, am I right?”
Lilith appeared beside Agatha.
“I knew it. Don’t worry, I think it’s better for both of us to keep this a mystery, don’t you think?”
Agatha nodded.
“Now, then,” he said as he held out the scroll containing a proclamation and pulled it open.
“I cannot fix the past. I cannot return to you what was lost. However, I can try to right what I can."
Let it be known that on this fifth day of Eventide, in the 21st year of the reign of Ricardo III, that all charges brought against Edward Castillo, his family, and estate, including harboring fugitives, aiding and abetting crimes, and banditry, are hereby rescinded. Let his record be cleared and his good name restored, by order of Duke Fernando de Goya.
Let it also be known that the glade atop the hill at the western boundary of the de Goya duchy shall henceforth be the property of Lady Agatha Castillo. The glade and its inn, Hidden Solace, shall become a sanctuary within the kingdom. All who enter these grounds shall be protected from the king’s wrath so long as they remain within the bounds of the glade. By order of His Majesty, Ricardo III, all business and activities occurring within the glade will not incur the usual tariffs, fees, and taxes.
Signed,
Duke Fernando de Goya
Ricardo III
Accepted by the Royal Council, 4th Eventide, anno 21 F III
Agatha stood for a moment absorbing what she had just heard.
“That was very kind of you,” she said.
“It was a hundred years late. I, uh, started the rumor that you are the granddaughter of the original Agatha. It was easier to explain,” he said. She smiled.
I was sorted into Team Tolkien this year. I've done the time travel thing, so I thought I'd try secondary world. Only, I haven't thought too much on it. However, I did have part of a story collecting dust, and the main character snugly fits in the "blessed are the merciful" theme, so I'm going to dig that up, clean up what's there, and add many more things to it to flesh out the characters within. It's about a woman who is marked for death, escapes said fate at the whims of a faerie, and must now run an inn hidden in the mountains with said faerie.
Last year, I finished up and graduated with a second master's degree, helped hold down the fort after the sudden departure of the boss, promoted to a new position, promoted again shortly after to become the boss, spent the fall semester finishing my predecessor's work, cleaning up their mistakes, learning how to be a manager, and trying to get by on a weird schedule, had a somewhat difficult Thanksgiving, and spent the Christmas holiday recovering from illness brought on by my exhaustion.
It was a bit of trial by fire, but I feel much more confident in my role as a library director now. I've stabilized my schedule, and now if I can get through these cold snaps, I can focus my time off less on waiting to go back to work and more on being constructive.
Which means getting back into writing. Also, watching and commenting on anime and other works. I missed doing that, but being in a survival mindset is not conducive to being creative. I have some Mob Psycho 100 to finish watching, not to mention the last season of My Hero Academia.
My apologies to @granny-griffin for being such an absent nemesis lately. I will have a comeback arc or some such thing. :)
Your heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it
Inside, we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching, but you're too shy to say it
Inside, we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
A lot of folk see this as an enduring internet meme. Me? When this song was current, my little 6-year-old self was dancing to it every time it came up on MTV. So, it brings fond memories whenever it comes up, even as a prank or a meme.
One time, when I looked this song up on YouTube, Rick Astley commented on his own music video, expressing appreciation for the love it got, especially after the "Rick Roll" thing got started. He thinks that's all been super fantastic. I appreciate when an artist embraces the silliness their work sometimes gets caught up in, through no fault of their own.
For the third year in a row, I'm Team Lewis. I did some sort of portal fantasy for the last two, so maybe space travel this time around. I'm not sure what to do beyond that, though. I have three weeks. That's plenty of time, right? Right?!
I've been asked a few times how I've been doing since becoming library director here, and I think I've come up with an interesting analogy.
Imagine a river you've played and swam in all your life. While doing so yet again, the water suddenly rises as the river floods. You get swept downriver, struggle to swim, and might actually be in danger of drowning. That is until your feet find the ground, and you can stand. The water is not as deep as you thought, nor is the current as strong as you thought when you were surprised. It's the same river, just under different circumstances. You can do this.
There is a lot that school and experience did not teach me, but they did provide a good foundation and equipped me to handle the job. I can do this, and I might actually like it.
Hopefully soon I can get back to watching some Mob Psycho 100.
WOAAAHHH, thanks for the tag!!!
Favourite colour: Yellow!
Last Song: Necromancin Dancin - Bear Ghost (Wei Wuxian core fr)
Currently Reading: Starless Sea by I don't know the author, lmao, and Stars Of Chaos by Priest (They're really good so far)
Currently Craving: Mogu Mogu 😍😍 (Specifically the melon one)
Coffee or tea: TEA, ALWAYS TEA
Tagging?: @weirdocat83, @an-exasperated-hades-kid, @transparent-internet-maker, @strawberrylemonwedge, @raddestrose (and all my other mutuals, lmao. This is not forced, by the way!!)
Last Song: Varied Thrush- Sparkbird, I totally recommend them it’s good
Currently Reading: The Scum Villains self saving system, volume four
Currently watching: horimiya(?) it’s the last show I watched so I’ll go with that (other wise it’s film theory)
Current craving: tangerines I fucking love tangerines
Coffee or Tea: coffee! I can never stomach tea because of the astringency
Tags: @rosalineandrosemary @mylovely7even @herbofthyme @parodismal @svsss-brainrot-blog @fistfuloflightning (don’t feel pressured to repost I just thought this was fun)
currently reading: To Light a Candle by Mercedes Lackey & James Mallory, and rereading How to Survive as the Villain (because it’s definitely reread material and just plain enjoyable, damnit)
currently watching: Monk (I’m only a few episodes in and I realized I forgot from my childhood lmao)
currently craving: bún mọc (like my grandma makes, but she’s halfway across the world)
coffee or tea: chai tea, the best of both worlds 😉
@fantasticblazepoetry @limitbreaker23 @ruensroad @braidedribbon @theelfmaiden @traveleorzea (no pressure lol) and for anyone else!
The library director left a few months ago. Another librarian just left on extended leave and may not come back. We're trying our best to cover the director's duties, and I've essentially absorbed the other person's duties.
There's not enough of us left. I can't do all my work justice. I don't know how we're going to make it.
But we have to.
Not what I signed up for going through grad school, but I suppose it's valuable experience, right? Right?
It'll probably be ok. But, hey, we could use some prayer.
