#bonds broken

[undertalethingies]

Bonds Broken

A continuation of this

Undyne hid her clenched fists behind her back as she listened to the words of her king. Her whole body was tensed, as if she were prepared to leap into battle at any moment, and her teeth would have ground together if they’d been the right shape to do so.

She wore the armor befitting her position as captain of the royal guard, and her helmet was the only thing disguising her livid expression from the capital’s citizens.

Next to her, Queen Toriel’s face showed nothing but disgust towards her husband of several centuries. In this, the two were in complete agreement.

How could he do this? How could he dishonor the memory of his children like this?

You see, Asgore had just declared war. He’d said that any human that fell would be captured and brought to him to have their soul ripped from their body in revenge for the late prince. He’d done so without consulting either the guard captain who would be responsible for bringing the humans in, or his wife, who was supposed to be of equal power to the king.

His co-ruler and closest advisor had both been discarded in favor of the throes of grief.

--

After the declaration, Undyne confronted him.

“How could you?!” She cried. What could have possibly possessed him to think that this was a good idea?

“I did what I had to do,” He said, speaking with finalty. 

“What you HAD to do? How could you POSSIBLY have needed to do THIS?” His face darkened, and his next words were laced with contempt.

“And what would you have had me do? Leave our people to lose all hope? Let us remain trapped down here forever?”

“If the price of freedom is MURDER, I’d happily live the rest of my life down here!” Undyne’s moral code is one she’d adopted from her liege. She didn’t understand how he could simply discard it because it no longer suited him.

“I will not leave the kingdom’s children to grow up in the darkness!” He yelled, finally releasing the illusion of calm. If Undyne herself hadn’t been filled with righteous fury, even she might have flinched from the anger in his voice.

“And what about YOUR children?! What about Chara? THEY were a human, since you’ve apparently FORGOTTEN. Your declaration wouldn't doom the humans who killed Asriel, it would doom the humans like THEM! The humans so lost and broken they climb a mountain where people are said to DISAPPEAR!” Her voice shook with emotion, and she had to pause for a moment to take in a ragged breath. Asgore used her momentary silence as a chance to interject.

“You don’t understand the pain of losing a child!” 

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND? THEY WERE MY SIBLINGS, YOU BASTARD! ASRIEL TURNED TO DUST IN MY ARMS AND YOU THINK I DON’T UNDERSTAND?!” She blinked quickly to stop the tears that threatened to run down her face. Quieter, she repeated:

“They were my siblings,” She turned away, and said, with a calm she did not feel:

“Whatever. Have your war, Asgore, but I won’t be a part of it,”

Undyne left the room, angrily wiping her streaming eyes and feeling more betrayed than she ever had. Behind her, Asgore sat heavily on his throne and wondered where it had all gone so wrong.

[varianwinchester]

How can I love them still?

Everything is pulling us apart. Situational that is, but even time and distance is wearing away at our relationship. Yet they touch me and I can’t help but feel they way I felt a year ago. All of me goes soft and knees shakey, heart beating fast. It is my mind that tries to run away. Tries to remind me I’m moving on, I’m over them, I have to be, I have another crush. Maybe that’s the reason that everything I once loved about them is turning sour. But that doesn’t stop these feelings…

[cypris-thalsian]

Contemplating Bonds

Cypris paced the den of the cottage, Cricket weaved in and our at her feet as she went. Certain event’s had left the woman in reflection on her past and consideration of her future. 

The night prior had been spent sitting up on the mountain top near a familiar scorched tree with her usual bottle of bourbon dwarven in  make, laced herb smokes, an her goblin radio. Each offered their own comfort as her mind wandered the littered paths of the life that lead her to this moment. 

She’d been labeled cursed as a child, for her natural affinity of fire. Sold by her mother to a goblin slaver who soon reaped reward as he bartered her off to the next highest bidder, seen no more than a tool or weapon. Eventually she was given a home among whores where love was mere illusion used to further bend the woman to the wills of others. Even after there was blackmail that saw to her chains until she’d gained enough courage to burn down her bonds.

It was the burning of her bonds that sent her running for her freedom and into the arms of the man who while crass in his own ways, was the first to see her for who and what she was. He’d helped her knowing there was little she’d be able to do to ever return the favor. The months that followed had brought her more freedom than she’d known but also bound her tighter than any chain. 

As Cypris turned to contemplating her future, she found herself at another crossroads. She could embrace her bonds or she could relinquish them...

(( @thalsianiii ))

Upon her return, Cypris placed a medium package on the table next to Percival’s side of the bed for him to find when he woke. The contents held the conclusion of her thoughts on the matter. 

Percival, I’m not one normally for formalities. You know this better than most. Even then the formalities are often forged representations. Gods know this is the last place either of us thought we would be and yet here we are. I swore that once I was free that I would never let myself be bound again by chains or magic. When I think of this promise I know I should run as fast as I can in any other direction but here. I also know that if I ran, I’d be miserable without you by my side. You’ve been my unexpected pleasure, my unbiased truth, my home. You’ve shown me what it is to have a love worth fighting for and bonds worth embracing. 

For all we have been through and fought for we deserve a little formality in celebration of our perseverance. Enclosed, should you agree, are papers, authentic and formal representation of our bond. I may or may not have been able to convince a local magistrate to sign off on. All that is left is your signature and the world will not hear Cypris without the name Thalsian. 

~Cypris

Leaning over, the woman scooped Cricket up, holding the feline close to her chest as she waited. Weight on parchment seemed silly in most respects. The pair certainly hadn’t needed parchment to function as partners. She could easily forge the documents and simply take the name if she pleased, to do so would cheapen the meaning. No. If she was to embrace the bond and take the name, she’d have it done right or at least as right as the two could manage given where their lives had brought them.

[trueliethegemini]

Blood means nothing

Just because we are family by blood, does not mean I am required to be nice to you. If you are going to be ignorant then be ignorant, and I will forgive you, but I will not associate with you.

[stallwartprotector-blog]

Bonds Broken

“On your feet, Oathbreaker.”

Geoffrey doesn’t move, doesn’t even raise his eyes. He has the patience for a majority of the epitaphs that have replaced his name, but that will never be one of them. Childslayer, Fireforger, Divine Denier, they are all unearned but do not infuriate him so thoroughly as does Oathbreaker.

Though after a year one would think him used to such.

“Up!” The warden beats on the door of Geoffrey’s cell, a snap in her voice, “On your feet, His Worship will not be made to wait!” He’d rather not be rushed by the guard, so Geoffrey slowly lifts from his pallet, sliding on monkish sandals with a grating familiarity. He steps towards the door, thrusting his hands through the angled cut out. A chain slides through the eyehole of each shackle encasing his wrist, before they are drawn tight. The warden slides a bar through the meagre gap left and then pulls the door open.

Geoffrey has little choice but to follow its swing. There are the usual spectators, three guards with swords almost unsheathed, a daring danger on each face. Geoffrey draws his arms back when the bar is removed and stands as another chain is affixed to the first, swallowing the brief surprise that emerges when he notices a cleric nearby.

Perhaps this was an unexpected request from the emperor. Geoffrey is almost amused that they’re even bothering to try and hide the evidence of their laxity. The cleric might make less the bruises upon his flesh and knit the scabbed remnants of marks and cuts upon him, but such magic takes time to diffuse, to properly work away injury. Despite this truth, the cleric still bows his head.

It burns fiercely when the staff grows luminous, as if the entirety of Geoffrey’s body is aflame. He can’t help gasping out, from going to a knee. The stone floor is cool against his flesh, but it hardly lessens the sensation of being razed alive.

Fades after a long moment, even though Geoffrey’s still trying to breathe proper. Everything still hurts, always does after being so mammothly healed, but the scrapes of his knuckles have grown fresh skin, so starkly pale compared to the surrounding flesh. Likely all his other marks are no different, though Geoffrey hasn’t the energy to care. It is always like this, a great surge of arcana that makes him so tired and aching, just so that Lord Mansel isn’t made aware of the inattention and cruelty of his prison guard.

Normally Geoffrey isn’t forced to his feet and jerked down the hall following this. Just gets shoved back in his cell usually, so the magic has time to fade and completely work away the remnants of bruising and abuse.

-

The prison of Rausten is meant for rehabilitation, formed with a monastery in mind. A slice of bread and a cup of water are allowed once a day, with every prisoner removed from their cell twice, once at morning where they are forced to bathe and maintain a divinely inspired cleanliness and again at night to be prayed over by acolytes. Ideology is such a pillar of this land, where even the most sinful creature can be made new and fresh through repent and adhesion to the edicts of the heavens.

Though in truth it is only the thieves and brawlers that are shown such chance, and are only prayed over a few times a week. Those of worse acts are not let in with such delicate clergy, chains or no. They are left to a high walled courtyard instead, where gangs congregate and violence snaps along so incessantly. Murders, rapists, all of those without honor or that show such constant pride for their depravities are forced to mingle amongst each other. It is a den of chaos on the days that those of less offense are thrust among them, cries spearing the air so often.

The guards have little care, are lax and of temper when forced to their duty. The one holding Geoffrey’s tether is a good example. Constant barks at every stumble Geoffrey takes, the threat of steel showing so often, no matter that none would dare cause him visible harm until after the emperor is done with him.

The outdoor wind is chilling on the way to the palace. Geoffrey tries to resist his shivers, shouldn’t even be bothered with how cold the cells are kept anyway. But the only clothing he is allowed is but the humblest tunic corded at his waist, nothing that stops the frigid air from dancing around his knees and passing through the coarse cotton. He stands out among the richly clothed citizenry, worse yet when he is brought through the halls and led to Lord Mansel’s audience chamber.

-

“Exquisite, was it not?” Silly of her to even ask, of course it was! How could one dine on Rausten scallops without knowing such delightful rapture? “Oh, there is still so much to show you!” L’Arachel bemoaned, taking Innes arm, her very soul all afroth at the thought that he might not experience all the glories her land had to offer. “Surely you would rather stay here some time longer? There’s little need to carry on south when there are so many delights to see in this divine city!”

[anchoredinchrist4ever]

Your living word, Lord, breaks all bonds which seek to strangle and choke my every breath. Jesus. Calms. Me.

~ anchoredinChrist4ever

[rigidheadstrongfortune-achi-blog]

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