Has anyone else walked through Atohl's End and Everlasting Darkness and understood why they say rangers lose their minds when they traverse the areas ?
The Archerons arrive at their townhouse in Yin, settling in for a season of society.
Warnings: Emotional Abuse | Word Count: 3,251 | Read on AO3
It's Instinct Masterlist
a/n: Hello @dustjacketmusings!! Idk which you'll see first, but yes, it is I, your secret santa! I was soooo excited to get you and to have the chance to build something special for you! I hope you like it. I took into consideration your enjoyment of magical/supernatural AUs, am sprinkling in some rivalry, and definitely there will be some angst (I hope it comes across well). However, my schedule did not allow for me to write a short book in one month - how rude - so this will be some time in the making, but hopefully you'll enjoy taking this journey with me!
And thank you @acotargiftexchange for putting this all together and organizing this lovely exchange!
"Will you stop shaking your leg? Honestly, one would think you have to relieve yourself."
Her mother started on a new rant directed at Nesta. Droning on about proper, ladylike behavior again. A lady doesn't reveal her needs. A lady doesn't display extreme emotions. A lady doesn't fidget. A lady doesn't shake the carriage.
Nesta knew all these things. She was typically very good at them. But it took every ounce of will in her to remain even this calm as they neared Yin.
The scent of the dew unfathomably mixed with the first snow of winter grew with each mile they traveled. And the rattling of the wheels seemed to sing to the beat of "closer, closer, closer". Nesta's heart picked up the rhythm, beating along and growing in strength.
She hadn't seen Yin since her graduation day. That night her mother whisked them all back home and then on to a three-year tour of the most eligible bachelors the continent had to offer. Disguised as an opportunity to hone her power further, to learn from the best Reason masters in the world. Unsurprisingly, her mother didn't care to hear much about those lessons. Her thoughts and conversation revolved entirely around what Nesta would wear to the next ball, who she should speak to, what she should ask about, who to accept dances with, and regular emphasis on keeping her thoughts to herself.
For families who cared so much about intelligence and power, they seemed far more interested in finding a vapid and thoughtless jewel to adorn their sons' arms.
Not that the sons had much to offer. Nesta found their conversation bland and mediocre. They had nothing to say that was challenging in the least, save for their misogynistic undertones and expectations.
It shouldn't have come as such a shock that Nesta didn't manage to secure a 'suitable' marriage. The ones that were determined enough to make an actual offer never lasted longer than a week into the planning, much to Nesta's pleasure. And even more so to her mother's chagrin.
Nesta couldn't regret it, though, no matter how unpleasant her mother could be. As excited as she was to travel the continent, to learn from the masters and take in new knowledge they didn't teach in Prythian, she was ready to go back. Back to the city that had stolen her heart in her three years at the Academy.
She hadn't expected to be back so soon after they returned from the continent. But apparently her mother was in a rush, worried that news of her unfavorable disposition would reach Prythian before she could get Nesta married. And Yin was the only place in Prythian where they might find an appropriate match by her mother's standards. The only place that held families rich and powerful enough for that, though none so much as those on the continent - as her mother kept reminding her.
"It's really no wonder you couldn't find a husband. Your lack of self-control will be the destruction of this family."
Her mother had managed to pivot back to Nesta's horrible showing on the continent by the time they finally reached their town house. Her favorite subject.
"Eileen," their father sighed.
"Don't start with me, Owen!" she snapped before he had a chance to say anything else.
He let out a breath and gave in, opening the door to their carriage and leading the family into the house. Nesta was surprised he even bothered trying. Absent is too kind a word to describe his presence in Nesta's upbringing. He never cared for his eldest. Nesta sometimes wondered if she were really his.
The three sisters followed their parents in age order, not one of them feeling a sense of relief for being in the town house. It was never a home for any of them.
From the street, the house gave off a sense of welcome and life that would be drowned out the second Nesta stepped into the foyer. No one knew the lie that was the façade of this house. How the perfectly kept up flowers, bushes, and crawling ivy and morning glory was all just a front for the despair that laid within.
Inside was more of the same. Pristinely decorated, it was designed entirely for show. A place for the family to rest the few times a year they were in Yin. To help keep up appearances, ensure everyone knew they maintained a certain degree of wealth. Everyone who was anyone had a house in Yin. And while many wealthy families did permanently resid here, the Archerons main estate was in the port city of Adriata. It was far easier for their father, as a tradesman and merchant, to do his business from there. And when he had business in Yin, he often didn't bring the family, knowing he'd be able to keep his trip shorter that way.
Nesta hated this house. It was worse than the manor by the sea - at least that one was large enough she could hide, avoid her mother when it wasn't time for her various lessons. The grounds were sprawling. It was so easy to find a tree on the edge of them to settle under and read. It was well decorated, always perfectly clean and ready to entertain visitors, but it was still lived in. Books and notes and clothes were strewn about her room. Flowers from Elain's garden adorned almost every table. Feyre's paintings were hung in the private rooms of the manor. Their father's favorite treasures could be found accenting various rooms, a great conversation starter for those curious.
This house had none of that. It was filled with the latest trends in home décor. The right rugs and settees, tables made from the finest of mahogany or whatever wood was currently in season. Paintings only from the most famous of artists, flowers from some boutique shop, and there was not one ounce of character in any of the bedrooms. Any family could live here and no one would know.
She never truly felt at home in the manor, but here she was a prisoner. Made all the worse by her adoration of Yin. It was easier to be trapped far away from the city than to be just one wall away but unable to enjoy it.
Nesta reached her ordinary room, draped in fabrics of pale blue and silver, and plopped down on her bed. The journey from Adriata was long. She was certain she could've slept for two days, but before she could adjust her body to be properly on the bed, she heard a knock on the door.
"Nesta?" Elain's soft voice called from the other side of it.
"Hmmm?"
Taking that as an invitation, Elain opened the door and walked in, followed quickly by Feyre. They shut the door behind them and walked over to Nesta. "We were going to walk to the market and wondered if you'd like to come with," Elain offered.
"Get some fresh air," Feyre added. "Away from mo-oof." She was cut off by Elain's less-than-gentle nudge to the stomach.
Nesta let out a sigh and sat up. The stresses of travel were weighing heavily on her, but getting out of the house and into the city did sound wonderful. "Yeah," Nesta agreed. "Let me just change first. I'll meet you in the foyer in 15 minutes."
Her sisters nodded and left the room, likely to change out of their travel clothes as well.
The trunk with her dresses had already been brought up to the room, the carriage carrying their things likely arriving before they had. She walked over to it and quickly dug through her clothes, picking out a simple, purple grey dress. It had some minor detail on the torso, but was plain enough it wouldn't draw too much attention.
She pulled off her shirt and skirt and threw the dress over her, using the external straps to tighten the waist enough to show off her figure. The floor-length skirt shimmered slightly in the light breaking through her windows, giving off a slight glow to the fabric. She walked over to the mirror and took out her hair, the updo disheveled from the journey. She brushed through the long, golden brown locks and then re-did it, sticking it right back up into her favorite braided coronet style.
Nesta grabbed her deep purple, valor cloak and fastened it as she made her way out her room and down the stairs. The fur trim around the hood was already beginning to warm her up, and the delicate silver flowers at the bottom popped with each step she took. Elain and Feyre were already waiting for her in fresh dresses, pulling on their gloves and chatting quietly.
"Are you ready?" Feyre asked as Elain handed Nesta her own gloves.
"Absolutely," Nesta replied.
Sharp footsteps that had all three girls straightening sounded behind them. "And where are you three going?" their mother's pointed voice asked.
"We were just going to take a walk to the market, mama," Elain explained in a sweet voice she used to get her way. It almost always worked.
"We just arrived. Surely you three have to get settled in your rooms."
"Yes, but we've been traveling for so long. We thought getting some fresh air and sunshine would be good for us."
Their mother looked at each of her daughters, moving an assessing gaze from one to the next. "Fine. Be home in time for dinner."
"Yes, mama," the three said in unison. They turned and hastened through the door before she could change her mind.
Once out of the house they each took a breath of relief. Nesta was bristling with excitement as she took in the city around them. The clouds were as white and fluffy as ever, drifting across the azure sky. It was midday, and yet something about them looked as if dawn were still lingering, a rose gold glow lining them.
With their house residing in the Rì chū - as the locals called their neighborhood - it was only a short walk to the Lí míng Market, the unofficial center of the city. The true center was still a mile away, filled with golden buildings where business and politics took place. But the market, that was the social center. Shops lined the street and stalls filled it, displaying goods from all over the world. Political hopefuls would gather in the center, preaching their opinions and fighting for change. Old friends would meet in the various cafes to catch up over cups of tea. New lovers would wander the aisles, browsing aimlessly as they sought to know each other better.
There was always something to see or do at the market, always something to entertain. But what Nesta loved best was the variety. People from all over Prythian lived in Yin, and you could see them all at the market. Their different dress styles and how they wear their hair, the various accents and intonations they speak in. It was all here, in this bustling market.
They were browsing a small jewelry stall when Elain let out a loud sigh. "You know, as lovely as this city is, I do wish we could've spent a bit more time in Adriata before coming here."
"Speak for yourself," Feyre said, her eyes tracking a pack of boys around her age that were passing them. "Did all the guys look like that when you were at the Academy, Nesta?"
"Like rowdy, eighteen-year-olds? Yes." Nesta didn't even bother looking at the group, more interested in a rose pendant painted to look like flames.
She could hear the roll in Feyre's eyes as she responded, "Cute, Nesta. I meant cute."
"I wasn't paying that much attention," she explained, placing the pendant down. It was beautiful, but her mother would never let her wear it out. Even looking at it she could feel eyes on her, as if her mother was watching all the way from their house. "Some were cute, some weren't, I'm sure. But if you're truly interested, you could always enroll in the Academy."
Feyre let out a loud snort that drew more than a few eyes, but Nesta tried to ignore it, moving them along to the next stall. "As if I'd be allowed to," Feyre lamented. "Mother didn't allow Elain to enroll."
"Really? As I recall it, Elain opted not to enroll," Nesta countered.
"What?!" Feyre pivoted, eyes on Elain, who suddenly found a new stall she wished to see halfway across the market and rushed off. "She never told me that." Her voice softened slightly as she slid up to Nesta's side.
Nesta turned to give Feyre a small smile. "I think she was worried you'd think she was staying for you. You just assumed she didn't have the option, it was easier to keep it that way."
"Was she? Staying for me."
"Not entirely. She didn't want to leave you alone, but she also wanted to stay for father. And, in the end, she's not as interested in our magic. She was more interested in staying home, getting to spend time on her hobbies and the garden. But it was her choice. Believe me. I tried to convince her to go."
Feyre let out a contemplative sound, her eyes moving to the clocks made from wine bottles that were displayed on the stall in front of them. "I still doubt I'd be allowed to enroll, assuming I could get in."
"You'd get in. You're an Archeron."
"Doesn't change the mother of it all. She'd never let me go. She'd never spend that kind of money on me."
"Feyre," Nesta sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.
"Nesta," Feyre parried. "Don't pretend. Our whole lives, everything has been about you. She doesn't care about us. Only you."
Nesta simply shook her head. "That's not true."
It wasn't about Nesta.
It never was. Not one thing in her life. Not the dance lessons, the private tutors, the fancy dresses. Not even her birth. As her mother always said, she was bred. No, she wasn't born or conceived or made with love, but bred. Like a prize show pony.
It was one of the reasons Nesta enjoyed her time at the Academy so much. The freedom. She could stay up all night, engrossed in a book if she wanted to. She could spend hours in the various museums, devouring chocolate from her favorite shop, or strolling through the Lí míng Market.
It hadn't been perfect freedom. Her mother's eye was far-reaching, she still kept Nesta 'in line', but the boundaries were far larger than Nesta had ever experienced. She just needed to stay away from Instinct - the other school of magic. Emotional, raucous, intense - they were dangerous. Nesta had heard the stories of Reason practitioners who'd gotten mixed up in Instinct. It never ended well.
Feyre could lecture her all she wanted on how Nesta was given everything. How their mother's life revolved around Nesta, but it never truly did. Their mother's life revolved around their mother, and Nesta was a mere tool in the process.
Her tone turned sharper. "Well, that's how it looks to me." And with that comment, Feyre stalked away.
One day Feyre might understand, but Nesta sure hoped that would never happen. That her mother would never shift her focus to Elain or Feyre. She prayed to the gods every day that they would never know what their mother's 'caring' felt like.
Leaving her sisters to their own interests, Nesta continued her path down the aisle of stalls, stopping whenever something caught her eye. She never lingered for long, unable to shake that feeling that she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck remained upright, a tingling sensation spreading through her body.
Nesta was sure she was growing paranoid. There were hundreds of people at the market. Plenty probably looked at her for a moment, but surely no one was watching her. And her mother hated the market, she certainly wouldn't have come out to it just to watch Nesta shop.
When she reached the end of the aisle, Nesta looked around for the tenth time, her eyes scanning every divot and alleyway when her gaze fell upon a pair of bright, hazel eyes that were clearly following her. Even being caught, they remained on her, a spark igniting in them, mesmerizing Nesta and holding her stare. She lost her breath for a moment. It took a minute before she gathered the strength of will to break away from his gaze and look upon the face those eyes held.
His face was nearly as intense as his stare. A strong jaw and high cheekbones, with a scar through the left eyebrow, half-hidden by some of the dark hair that fell in his face. His lips were spread into a knowing smirk. It ignited something deep within her that she couldn't quite name.
He was leaning against a lamp post, his ridiculously muscular arms crossed over his just as insane torso. Even in that stance he was daunting. She could only imagine what he'd be like at full height.
Meeting his gaze again, she finally realized what it was she was feeling.
Fury.
The audacity of this man, to watch her go through the market. To give her such a smug grin, as if he knew she would come up to him now that she's seen him. She had the mind to do just that and tell him off. Before she could, she heard her name being called.
"Nesta! You must come see these!" Elain exclaimed, walking up to her and grabbing her hand, beginning to pull her toward some stall. Nesta looked to her sister reflexively, and when she looked back the man was gone. As if he'd disappeared on the wind. "Nesta?" Elain asked, noticing her sister not moving.
"Sorry," Nesta breathed, turning to Elain. "I was lost in thought. What are we looing at?"
Elain grinned widely and led her to a stall selling cloak clasps. Feyre was already there, holding up a beautiful clasp of stars. Nesta wasn't entirely sure how the designer was able to make a full clasp of defined stars, but there it was in her sister's hands, one of the most beautiful cloak clasps she'd ever seen.
"That's lovely, Feyre," Nesta said, the best peace offering she could provide. Feyre gave her a big smile and nod, her form of an acceptance.
"And look at these!" Feyre held up two others, a floral bouquet clasp and one of silver flames.
"Oh, wow!" Nesta could hardly get the words out as she took the clasp of fire and examined it. She'd never seen its equal.
Feyre could never full explain it, but whenever she was painting a representation of her sisters, she always painted these three symbols. Flowers for Elain, stars for herself, and flames for Nesta. Nesta's favorites were always the ones where she turned the flames silver, 'like your eyes,' she would say. Not that Nesta's eyes were actually silver, but apparently they could look that way in some lightings.
"It's just too perfect, isn't it?" Elain asked, already reaching into her coin purse and handing money to the keeper of the stall for all three of them.
"It's more than that. It's fate," Feyre agreed.
Nesta smiled softly as she wrapped her hand around her new clasp. "It's certainly something," she murmured.
a/n: I hope no one minds some sisterly moments. It wasn't truly purposeful, but there's something about giving the sisters a better bond that felt right for this fic.
I stuck with East Asia as inspiration for aspects of this city - particularly the names for now, but I'm going to be trying to work in more around fashion and other things throughout the fic - because this is meant to take place in the area that would be the Dawn Court in canon Prythian.
Pronunciations - I am linking to "word hippo" for the words I used. They have a little speaker icon you can click on to hear the pronunciation, as technically the English spelling is the phonetic spelling. I did speak with a native Mandarin-speaking friend to make sure I got the right words, but she could not help me with phonetic spellings, so this is the best way to do this, I believe.
A request if you wanna do it: would you do a little christmas themed modern au thing with lotr/silm characters? I dont mind what its about or if theres any plot, its just nice to live vicariously through characters having a nice time in winter/christmas :) like just something cozy. Thank you and i hope youre having a nice day 🎄
thanks for this! wishing you a very happy Christmas! they're having a little Christmas, but it's pretty warm in Ireland, so it's a green Christmas~
I'll maybe write some more if more living vicariously is needed. I have some ideas for little bits and a surprise snow--and the 12 days of Christmas only just started? (I don't actually know when that is)
🎄🎄🎄
Legolas woke up to Elladan’s little black kitten staring down at him. His big bat ears were perky, and his eyes were all shiny. Legolas stroked him gently as he purred. He blinked slowly, trying to wake up completely. It was Christmas Eve, and he was going to bake so much for everyone.
Thranduil poked his head in. ‘Come on and wake up, baby.’ Thranduil’s hair wasn’t brushed yet, and he was wrapped in a pale pink dressing gown with cranes, reeds, and lily pads printed on it. He bent and kissed Legolas. ‘My Little Star Darling My Precious Angel Perfect Little Dewdrop’ purred louder and pressed his face against Thranduil’s arm. Thranduil petted ‘My Little Star Darling My Precious Angel Perfect Little Dewdrop’ absently.
Legolas reached up and grabbed hold of his father’s hair so he couldn’t leave quite yet and had to kiss him again. Thranduil did so.
‘Get up, we need you to bake.’ Thranduil gave him a third and final kiss and swept off to get ready.
Legolas did get up after he’d petted ‘My Little Star Darling My Precious Angel Perfect Little Dewdrop’ a few times. He then washed his face and brushed his teeth. He kept his pjs on—a big white and blue striped shirt and matching shorts—and went down the steep, carpeted stairs. Gimli was supervising Merry and Pippin on wrapping a green garland and a string of ornaments around the banister of the little landing on the bottom of the stairs. Legolas stepped off the little stairs and padded into the kitchen.
Elrond and Bilbo were the only people in the kitchen at the moment. Elrond stood by the sink with a London Fog in a pale orange and turquoise painted mug.
‘Well, now there’s a witness,’ Elrond said, which wasn’t concerning at all.
Bilbo snorted. He tugged at the belt of Elrond’s bathrobe.
‘That’s fighting dirty,’ Legolas scolded.
‘He always fights dirty,’ Elrond said, retying his belt as Elladan’s too-long-named kitten (who had followed Legolas down) swatted at the belt.
Legolas ignored their fight or playing or play fight or whatever it was (he hadn’t yet quite made out why Bilbo wanted to tease Elrond so much and so often) and put bread in the toaster and got out butter and peach jam. He put the toast on the toast plate when it had popped and got it all ready. Then he took it and a glass of water to the table and settled down on his chair, one leg drawn up to his chest. He yawned.
‘Ada?’ he said, but Thranduil was apparently not in hearing range or was doing something important. Aragorn came in with a pot of fresh sage. ‘Aragorn,’ he said instead. ‘Do my hair?’
‘Yeah, just a second,’ Aragorn said. He squeezed Elrond. ‘Baby.’
Aragorn let go of him and hugged Legolas around the shoulders from behind. He rested his chin on Legolas’s head. ‘Cutie.’
Elrond sipped his tea.
‘Why is Bilbo killing you?’ Legolas asked. He guessed that was what the witness comment was about.
‘I’m forcing him to not be evil,’ Elrond said.
Bilbo snorted. ‘Do you want bacon and eggs, Aragorn?’ he asked.
‘Ew,’ Elrond said.
Bilbo hit his thigh. Some of the tea tipped out of Elrond’s cup and fell onto Bilbo.
‘Ow!’ Bilbo shook his hand.
‘I warned you.’
‘You did that on purpose.’
‘Did not.’
‘You can control water.’
‘It spilled because you hitme.’
‘That was a tap.’
‘Estel, Bilbo hit me.’
Aragorn shook his head. ‘I don’t get it,’ he said to Legolas.
‘Me neither.’ Legolas ate his toast.
Gandalf came into the kitchen with his hair a big mess around his head.
‘Good morning,’ Elrond said.
Gandalf looked at him sharply and opened his mouth.
‘I mean it is a morning for youto be good on,’ Elrond said before Gandalf could speak.
Bilbo laughed. Elrond smiled down at him.
‘Try my tea.’
‘No.’
Elrond looked slightly offended.
Aragorn tugged gently on Legolas’s hair. Legolas got up and followed him into the living room so that Aragorn could sit on the sofa when he braided Legolas’s hair.
The living room was very cosy for Christmas. There was a tree up that they had decorated a couple days ago. The lights were on it even though the sun was shining behind the blinds in the large window. The fireplace had a little garland over it and very many stockings. Legolas was glad they were named or he wouldn’t be able to keep track of whose was whose.
He threw a large square pillow down on the floor and sat in front of the blue sofa cross legged. Aragorn picked up a brush and started brushing his hair.
Frodo came into the living room with a stack of books for reshelving.
‘Has your dad killed my dad yet?’ Aragorn asked.
‘What?’ Frodo pushed the first book into place.
Aragorn smiled at him.
‘No, no, Bilbo’s good,’ Frodo said, catching on.
Elladan had shelved the books by colour, and it had caused some controversy in the house, but Legolas liked it. He also liked that the whole house smelt like pine because of the tree and wreaths and garlands. There were little shimmering baubles on the mantle and candles and fairy lights draped over the mirror. A low fire burnt in the fireplace and was grated away from the rest of the room.
Elrohir lay on the beautiful rug that had vines and flowers designed over it. Legolas hadn’t noticed him at first. Elrohir had his kitten—a striped one that also had some large circles on its body. Her name was Petra. She was standing on his chest.
Thranduil came into the living room in a silver silk tunic and faux leather leggings. His hair was somehow perfect already. He stepped over Elrohir’s legs to tie some silver bells onto the garland on the hearth.
Legolas giggled as Aragorn’s hand brushed against his ear, tickling him. Aragorn laughed. He finished Legolas’s hair off with a green ribbon.
‘Off you go. We need you in the kitchen.’ Aragorn patted his butt on the way out.
Legolas found Sam and brought him into the kitchen. Bilbo was making breakfast. Elrond was grating lemon peel.
Legolas set to work on the spritz cookies. Sam started on the gingerbread loaves. Legolas sang as he worked.
It was raining lightly, and the grass smelt fresh, and the rain delicious coming in through the half open sliding door. Birds sang. It was quite warm out—about 10 degrees. Legolas popped his head out the door after he’d finished the batter.
‘Does this look right?’ Sam asked him.
Legolas peeked down into the bowl at the gingerbread cake batter. He dipped a finger in and tasted it. ‘Hmmmmmmmm. Needs orange.’
Legolas stole Elrond’s zester and added orange zest to the batter. Then he cut the orange in half and squeezed the juice out into the bowl. Elrond smiled at him.
‘Needs more ginger,’ Sam said.
Legolas nodded. ‘And more cinnamon!’
They mixed it up and tasted it again.
‘Cream,’ Sam said. Legolas nodded in agreement. Sam added the cream and mixed again. They tried it again.
Legolas nodded. ‘It’s good!’
‘Yeah.’ Sam smiled, content.
Soon the baked goods were safely in the oven. The turkey would go in after. And then vegetables. There was a ham in the slow cooker. There were a lot of people over, so they needed to feed an army, but it was the more the merrier! Besides Legolas didn’t have to cook. Bilbo and Sam were doing most of that, insisting that Shire food was the best of all food. Legolas didn’t know if he believed that, but he was fine leaving it to them.
Legolas hurried back into the living room and settled down next to Elrond’s sons and Gimli. He put his arm around Gimli. Gimli sighed. Legolas smiled at him. Gimli sighed again.
‘Gimli doesn’t want to cuddle,’ Merry said.
Legolas cuddled closer.
‘You’re worse than a kitten,’ Gimli said.
‘I’d say about the same,’ Aragorn said.
Pippin sat down right next to Faramir. ‘I got you a fun present.’
‘What is it?’ Faramir asked.
‘Can’t tell you yet.’
Faramir nodded.
‘We’ll take a walk by the river soon,’ Boromir said. ‘While it’s so nice out.’
Legolas smiled at him. That sounded delightful. He could have a nice warm cup of mulled wine when they got back. And eat it with some of the spritz cookies with the green sugar. He kissed Gimli’s temple.
‘Love you!’ he sang.
Gimli sighed again.
‘Elves.’
‘We’re not starting that now,’ Aragorn said, getting to his feet. ‘Come on, walk now.’
Legolas jumped up. ‘Fight later!’
‘No fight later.’
‘Always fight later,’ Pippin said.
Legolas laughed. ‘Right!’
He grabbed his coat and pulled on his shoes. They would have a wonderful dinner when they got back, and then a peaceful evening. Presents in the evening, and then stockings Christmas morning.
It was warm outside, and the grass was green, shining in the sun. Off they went to the river, singing together. 🎄
Well here it is! My submission for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. This idea has been in my head since last summer, but I didn't have the motivation to tackle it until this year. All I knew is that I wanted some form of The Parent Trap but I didn't like the idea of Emma and Killian being divorced, and then this is what it became.
Just a warning, there is nothing supernatural for the first few chapters.
Thank you so much to @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite for being my betas and for helping me come up with ideas for this since last summer. And to @mariakov81 for also helping with ideas and for the lovely artwork you gifted me for my birthday inspired by this story.
Thank you @gingerchangeling for the amazing artwork you made for this fic! I love it so much
Summary: Hope Swan and Alice Jones meet at summer camp and immediately realize two things: they look exactly alike and they don’t like each other. But the more they delve into things the more they realize this is not just another case of The Parent Trap, and that there may be more at stake (and more danger) than they thought.
Rated T (although it could change later on)
Read on Ao3
For as long as she could remember, Hope Swan had wanted to go to sleepaway camp. Oh sure, she’d been going to regular day camps every summer since she was five, but she wanted some time away from her mom. She’d begged her every year, but Emma Swan told her every year that they couldn’t afford it (bail bonds kept them comfortable, but didn’t leave a lot for extras). And every year Hope was disappointed. But this year, the year she was 13 (14 in three months), all that changed.
Hope’s older brother, Henry, had published his first novel a year ago at the age of 28 (yes, there was a 15 year age gap between them; that’s what happens when your mom first gets pregnant at 17, she waits a while before having another kid) and now had a sequel coming out, and had offered to pay for Hope to go to camp. Six weeks away from her mom. Not that Hope didn’t love her mom, but she was getting overbearing now that she was officially a teenager. It was as if she didn’t trust her at all. Hope had asked Henry if she was the same way when he turned 13, but he just gave a shrug and left it at that. Hope figured that being 45 with a 13-year-old and being 30 with a 13-year-old were completely different. And now she was here and having a great time and making new friends (Jen and Bianca), when she discovered the Jones girl.
She hadn’t noticed her on the first day. There were two 13-year-old girl cabins and Alice Jones happened to be in the other one. But on the second day, two girls from the other cabin said hi to her and called her Alice. She’d never seen these girls, since they weren’t in her cabin, but she figured it was the second day and all, and they must have mistaken her for another blonde-haired camper. But then more girls from the other cabin started calling her Alice and one of them tried to get her to go back to the other cabin with her. It was finally at lunch on that second day that she glanced over at the other cabin’s table and noticed a girl that looked exactly like her, except instead of her shoulder-length curls, this girl had much longer curls with purple streaks in them.
Jen noticed her looking. “The nerve of her! Coming here with your face!” She said angrily.
“Well, at least I understand why people thought I was someone else now.” Hope said. Of all the places to meet her doppleganger, she never would have thought it would have been at sleepaway camp. “It’s not a big deal, people will realize we’re two separate people eventually.” She said as she watched the Alice girl laughing with girls from her own cabin.
Except they didn’t. Everyday someone called her Alice and it was irritating Hope. Yes, they looked alike, but otherwise they were very different. Alice was a lot more punk rock, what with the streaks in her hair, the fact that she wore nothing but vintage band t-shirts and frayed cutoff shorts with Converse shoes. Hope mainly wore tank tops (sometimes with an open flannel shirt over it) with Bermuda shorts and sandals. She also wore her hair up in a simple ponytail, a perfect clone of her mother. Except for her blue eyes. Her mother seemed to have no idea where those came from seeing as she had green and her father had brown, or so she’d been told. She was too young to remember him when he died. Must have had two recessive blue eyes finally meet up her mother used to joke. Hope hadn’t got close enough to Alice to look at her eyes, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she had blue eyes too.
Alice Jones was a bit of an odd duck. At least, that’s what she’d been told. Her Papa joked she had “a touch of the sight”. Alice didn’t think she was that peculiar. She likened herself to Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter series (minus the radish earrings). She just got gut feelings about people. But running into a girl who looked almost identical to herself at a summer camp was nothing she could have ever predicted. It was unnerving to see someone who looked so similar to herself but wasn’t her. It was like looking into a mirror to see a super serious version of herself. She didn’t like it one bit. And Alice liked everything. Nothing rattled her. She didn’t know why this girl did.
It wasn’t as if this girl -- Hope, she’d learned her name was Hope -- had done anything to her either. Her mere presence just left her feeling unsettled. That touch of sight her father joked that she had been sending off warning bells in her gut that something wasn’t right. But what could she do to avoid her? Alice thought that would be easy considering the size of the camp, she just didn’t bank on Hope having many of the same interests that she did. That first day, after all the rules had been told to them, they got to try out different specials (activities) and Hope seemed to be at most of the ones Alice had also gone to, and the feeling in her gut grew worse and worse. Like they weren’t supposed to be around each other.
“Everyone deserves a chance no matter what is in their past, Starfish.” Her Papa would say to her. It had just been her and her Papa for as long as Alice could remember. She usually had trouble making friends, being slightly odd as many girls she’d tried to befriend had told her, but she loved making new friends when the opportunity arose, and if people didn’t mind her idiosyncrasies. She’d always loved playing make-believe. She would often pretend she was Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and have tea parties with her Papa and stuffed animals (Papa was always a pirate in her make-believe world though). As she got older she started sketching landscapes and the occasional self-portrait and had won several art prizes at her school and local contests. That was why she was confused about the feelings she was having concerning Hope. She should be forging a friendship with this girl, getting to know her, not feeling like she should stay as far away from her as possible. How many people got to meet someone who looked exactly like them?
“Hey, Alice, it’s time for lunch!” Viola yelled, startling Alice out of her thoughts. Alice usually loved mealtimes, she loved food, grilled cheese and onion rings being her favorite, but that was when she knew she’d see Hope and her stomach would practically rebel at a mere glance at her. She’d been so excited to finally get to go to sleepaway camp (something she’d been begging her Papa about for years). It just hadn’t been feasible on a dock manager’s salary, but this year they’d started a scholarship program and Alice had applied and received it, so here she was. Too bad her camp experience was being ruined by her weird sixth sense.
“Thanks!” Alice said getting up from her bunk and slipping on her worn, pink Converse.
Alice wondered if she would have the urge to avoid Hope the entire summer. That would definitely dampen the camp experience.
The change from avoidance to rivalry started over fencing of all things. Alice hadn’t known it was Hope that the director had pitted her against, as they were both wearing the required fencing masks and gear and it was impossible to tell who her opponent was. Alice had only recently started taking fencing lessons, something her Papa had wanted her to do, but she’d never been much for physical education or sports. She would have preferred archery or horseback riding (things she was happy she was getting to experience here at camp), but those were a bit expensive. The local YMCA offered fencing lessons for a low fee.
Her opponent was much better than she was. Alice had more of a hack at the other person with her sword approach rather than the correct stance. The other girl had much better form than she did and Alice could hear the frustrated sounds coming from her whenever Alice used two hands on her sword or kicked her opponent away (which Alice knew wasn’t legal, but this wasn’t a tournament and they were padded for goddess sake). At one point, Alice’s sword had been knocked out of her hands and she just lunged at the other girl. Alice knew she wasn’t playing by the rules, but she wanted to win and the fencing specialist hadn’t blown their whistle at her, so she kept on doing what she was doing.
Eventually, Alice ended up on her back with her opponent above her after she had tried to kick her again and her opponent had grabbed her foot instead, making Alice fall to the ground. They had definitely thrown the rules out the window, especially with her adversary completely disregarding the little footwork Alice had learned and doing swishy twists and turns. Bad form as her Papa would say. So, if she wasn’t going to play by the rules, then she wouldn’t either. Alice quickly kicked her knee upward, essentially kicking her opponent in the groin (even though she knew it wouldn’t hurt nearly as badly for a girl as it would a boy), but it was enough to push her back off of her. The distraction was enough that Alice managed to get herself back on her feet and jab the tip of her sword at the other girl’s chest. The whistle finally blew and the specialist came over asking the girls to take off their fencing masks so she could declare the winner and make sure they shook hands like good sports.
To say that both Alice and Hope were in shock when they realized they’d been fencing each other was an understatement.
“That was bad form, all that kicking you were doing.” Hope sneered at Alice.
“Me?” Alice practically screeched. “What was with all the twists and turns? Give you a leather duster and you could have been a pirate.”
“Girls,” the specialist said, trying to regain some control over the situation, “can you please just shake hands?” But both girls refused. Hope shucked off the rest of the fencing gear, threw her sword onto the ground, and huffed off while Alice actually attempted to pull her hand out of her glove for a handshake. The specialist gave a shrug to Alice and picked up the gear Hope had thrown on the ground before announcing that formal fencing lessons would be every Tuesday and Thursday during Specials time. Alice slowly took off her gear and put it in the designated bins. As much as she would enjoy fencing over the summer, running into Hope was not something she was looking forward to, so she decided to try something else to avoid her.
But it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
Archery had been the next special Alice wanted to try. And there was Hope, already there with her arrow nocked in her bow and an arrow practically in the bullseye. After a few tries of her own (and almost hitting Hope --accidentally-- twice), Alice realized that maybe watching archery was more fun than actually trying to shoot a bow and arrow. Especially, because Hope thought she was trying to hit her on purpose.
“It was an accident.” Alice gritted through her teeth.
“Sure it was.” Hope huffed, swishing her ponytail behind her and storming off with two of her friends in tow.
“God, why is she such a bitch?” Alice’s friend, Lori, asked. “Anyone can see you’re just not that coordinated.” Lori joked. “Maybe you should just stick with art.”
“Yeah.” Said Alice sheepishly. She put the archery equipment away and headed for the art shack.
Two days! It had been two days and Alice was already a thorn in her side!
“She’s like your stalker. She’s always showing up where you are.” Bianca huffed, sitting down on one of the benches in the ramada. Hope had needed to be away from the prying ears of her cabin.
“Yeah! Who does she think she is? It’s like she’s trying to be you.” Jen added in angrily, having just arrived from a trip to the Snack Shack. Even though they’d only been camp friends for the past four days, Hope, Bianca, and Jen had quickly bonded the way only 13-year-olds that had to live together could. She handed out packs of candy that she had got for them, gummy worms for herself and Bianca, and a pack of black licorice for Hope.
It was true that it seemed like wherever Hope was, Alice inevitably ended up there too. “There’s really only so many places one can go here, girls. I mean, we only have so many choices.” Hope said, opening her bag of licorice and taking a bite. She still hesitated to be around Alice, but it’s not like they could go anywhere outside of the boundary of the campgrounds. “I appreciate the sentiment though.” Hope said happy for the support. “I know it’s not rational, to dislike someone just because they look almost identical to me.” Her blue eyes looked to the ground.
“Hey, no matter what, we’ve got your back.” Bianca reminded her.
“And speaking of having your back,” Jen said, pulling out a piece of paper from her back pocket, “look at this.” She unfolded the paper and smoothed it down in front of them. It was an announcement for a dance.
“They’ve invited the boys camp from across the lake!” Jen said excitedly. The flyer announced that the dance would be in one week. “I can’t wait! I’ve never been to a dance.” She pressed the flyer to her lips and kissed it.
“Want to get a first kiss?” Bianca asked teasingly.
“What, like you’ve been kissed?” Jen responded back not so teasingly.
“I’ve been kissed.” Hope spoke up to diffuse the situation. She was older than most of her cabinmates, her birthday being in September, only three months away, so she did have a little bit more experience than some of them. Both girls’ eyes lit up.
“What was it like?” Jen asked.
“I bet it was super romantic.” Bianca said dreamily.
Hope, laughed and then cringed. “Um, my best guy friend and I tried kissing a few weeks before school got out. We’ve been friends since fourth grade.” She blushed at the embarrassment of the memory, Bianca and Jen hanging on her every word. “It was tech week for our school play, Peter Pan. I was Peter. That’s how I know how to sword fight.” Bianca and Jen both gave Hope an exasperated look as she started going off topic. “ Sorry. Anyway, he was on backstage crew and we were outside waiting for our parents to come pick us up. I saw my mom’s car and as I went to give him a hug like I usually did, because that’s just how we are, and he kissed me.”
Both Bianca and Jen’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of their heads and they both had the widest grins on their faces.
“So, how was it?” Jen asked, breaking the awkward silence of them both staring at Hope.
“Wet.” The girls laughed. “And weird. We didn’t know what we were doing. And he had braces. And, I think I can wait before getting kissed again.” The girls all dissolved into giggles. “I was really glad I was going to camp for the summer so I wouldn’t have to see him everyday. We both agreed to just stay friends.” Hope had not told her mother, even though she was bursting to. Hope knew that her mother had had bad luck with men, her father on the top of that list, and she really didn’t know how her mother would react to her having been kissed. She had confessed to Henry though. He told her he was the same age when he’d had his first kiss as well, which made her feel better about the whole thing.
“That’s still so exciting!” Bianca said breathlessly and finished up the last of her gummy worms. “I don’t know how you can eat black licorice.” She made a face to show what she really thought of it.
“I don’t like sweet stuff.” Hope scoffed and took a large bite of licorice.
“Whatever.” Jen said, grabbing her trash and throwing it away. “Let’s get back to the cabin so we can figure out what we’re going to wear to this dance.”
“Did you hear about the dance?” Viola practically screamed as she rushed into the cabin. Alice looked up from where she’d been sketching the view from her window, not the greatest view, but Alice was trying to make her grass look more realistic and less like pencil strokes on the page.
“A dance?” Lori asked almost falling off her bunk to look at the flyer Viola had in her hands. They looked over the flyer as several other girls in the cabin also flocked over to them to peruse the flyer; all of them talking excitedly about finally getting to dress up a bit and getting to see members of the opposite sex after two weeks. This inevitably brought up the girl’s experiences with boys (not that they seemed to have a lot), a conversation that Alice felt uncomfortable with. Alice didn’t have much interest in boys yet (something she was sure her Papa was happy about). She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about them in general, let alone to do things with. She had her Papa and that’s really all she needed. That and her art. Just leave her in a beautiful location for a few hours with a sketch pad and some drawing utensils and she was happy.
“What about you, Alice?” Lori, a bushy haired girl asked after regaling the girls in the cabin with a tale of how the first guy she had kissed had also tried to cop a feel and had only discovered the tissues she’d stuffed into her bra.
“Oh, me?” Alice asked. “No kissing for me. I’m not really good with boys.” Once again, Alice was feeling like an oddball.
“Don’t worry,” said Viola, coming to sit over near Alice and taking her hand, “not all of us are boy crazy.” Viola smiled sweetly at her. Alice’s stomach nearly did a somersault.
Oh!
“Thanks.” Alice said giving a shy smile back and keeping their hands clasped a little while longer before pulling it away to continue her drawing.
Alice decided she would just find a chair out on the patio and sketch during the dance, since (according the the flyer) the whole shebang was mandatory. She would have rather stayed in her cabin during the dance instead of watching her cabinmates flirt badly with the boys.
Unfortunately, the intention of finding a boy to dance with for the night that Hope had been banking on, and the quiet drawing in the corner that Alice had hoped for (and maybe talking to Viola a bit more), did not end up coming to fruition.
It had started out great. Hope, Bianca, and Jen were in their pack and had all been asked to dance by boys in their own group. Sterling had been the one to catch Hope’s eye. He seemed quiet and reserved, and upon speaking to him for a little bit, found that he was very much into science.
“I’ve never been that good with science myself,” Hope told him sweetly when he brought up some experiment he was doing with blue lights at his camp, “but I know crime novels use blue and black lights to find blood at crime scenes.” She said hoping that she hadn’t come off as creepy. Luckily, Sterling thought it was adorable. He smiled at her and she noticed he was not wearing braces, even better.
Meanwhile, Alice had attempted to cajole Viola to come hang with her outside while she drew a picture of the lake in the moonlight. She’d brought some of her charcoal so she was making quite a mess of herself, but she wasn’t planning on doing much dancing or interacting with anyone else. “I’ll come out here later when I need a drink, okay?” Viola had said, smiling at her again. The drinks and refreshments had been set up under the patio not too far from where Alice had situated herself. She just hoped that none of the directors would notice her out here and try to make her come inside.
Alice had probably been outside all of 30 minutes when her gut started telling her something was wrong. She looked up at the sky thinking maybe rain was coming, but it was a clear, cloudless night. She looked over to the refreshment table and saw Hope talking with a boy. That must have been what set it off. She didn’t need any trouble from Hope right now, so she went back to her drawing. But it wasn’t meant to be.
After a few minutes a male voice asked her. “What are you drawing?” Alice looked up to see the boy that Hope had just been talking to looking over her shoulder at the barely started drawing.
“Um,” Alice said nervously, “just drawing the lake in the moonlight.” She looked back at the landscape in front of her determined not to continue this conversation. The last thing she needed was for Hope to have another reason to not like her just because this boy wanted to talk to her too.
She continued to draw and glanced over at the refreshment table to see a few girls she didn’t recognize hanging out and talking, when he spoke again.
“Are you just going to ignore me all night? I thought we’d hit it off pretty well in there.” Alice closed her eyes and gave a nervous laugh. Of course he thought she was Hope. Her doppelganger must have either gone to the restroom or ditched him and now he was out here thinking she was the girl he’d been talking to all evening.
“I’m not Hope.” she said plainly, still not looking up from her drawing.
“Are you seriously trying to pretend you’re someone else right now?” He asked incredulously. Alice rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of this whole situation.
“I’m not Hope. We just look alike. Tell me, how did I all of a sudden get purple streaks in my hair and have charcoal on my hands if I was with you?” She huffed. The boy opened his mouth to say something when the girl in question came out the double doors and immediately stopped at the scene in front of her.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Hope asked, hands crossing over her chest like armor. She was glaring at Alice, like the boy talking to her was her fault.
“I…, I mean…” The boy looked very confused as he turned his head looking at both girls.
“Mistaken identity. He thought I was you.” Alice said finally putting her drawing notebook and charcoal down and getting up from the chair she’d been sitting in all night. Her explanation did not seem to pacify Hope at all.
“Seriously, Sterling?” Hope walked over, the niggling in Alice’s gut getting worse. “You couldn’t tell the difference between us?” Sterling, for his part, had turned bright red and seemed quite embarrassed about the mix-up. “And you!” Hope said, swinging her body toward Alice’s. “I’m sure you didn’t have any part of this at all. I saw you out here before when we were talking. Hanging on every word.”
Alice was very confused as to what was happening now. She’d been sitting outside drawing and minding her own business. She hadn’t encouraged the boy in any way and now Hope was accusing her of intentionally, what, pretending to be her in this whole thing?”
“Look, Hope, I didn’t…” But Alice never got to finish her sentence as she felt a stinging sensation overcome her whole face. Hope stood across from her staring at her own hand as if she couldn’t believe she’d just slapped Alice. Sterling snuck off as the gaggle of girls who’d been chatting at the refreshment table stopped to watch the scene that was unfolding.
Alice held her hand to her face, not believing that Hope had had the audacity to slap her. And at the same moment, rage at this whole situation finally reached its boiling point, and Alice slapped Hope back, leaving a charcoal handprint across Hope’s face. Alice immediately put both hands over her mouth, horrified at what she had done.
“I’m sorry.” Alice said quickly, trying to diffuse the whole situation, but Hope 's eyes were practically black from her seething anger and she grabbed Alice’s hair and yanked her to the ground.
Alice was vaguely aware that there were screams coming from the other participants of the dance. That someone had yelled for the director, Mrs. Hatfield and the director of the boys camp. That Lori and Viola and Hope’s two friends all came out to try and convince the girls to stop fighting. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
As Hope dragged Alice down to the ground, Alice grabbed Hope around the knees, pulling her down to the ground as well. Hope immediately tried to gain the upper hand by straddling Alice and trying to slap her again, but Alice managed to roll her over so she was on top. They both kept rolling each other over, trying to regain the upper hand when they hit the refreshment table. More screaming abounded as the table came crashing down. Alice managed to avoid the punch from drenching her (as she happened to be on top when it came down on Hope), but Hope managed to wrench her over right as the ranch dressing came down on her face.
“Girls! Girls!” Mrs. Hatfield screamed. The director of the boys camp finally managed to pull Hope off of Alice (who now also had bits of chips in her hair), and get the two girls separated.
Mrs. Hatfield had seen enough. “In all my years,” she said, trying to maintain some semblance of control in her voice, when all she wanted to do was rant and rave at these girls, “this has been the most revolting, the most disgusting display of hooliganism we have ever had.” Alice hung her head in shame. For once her gut had led her down the wrong path and she would have to pay the price. “And from sisters who should be leading by example…”
“We’re not sisters!” Hope exclaimed, appalled that she had been brought into this as an instigator. Mrs. Hatfield’s mouth dropped and she looked from Hope to Alice and then back to Hope again.
“But they are, aren’t they?” Mrs. Hatfield asked the two other directors who were assessing all the food and drink that were now on the floor.
“Uh, no.” said one director with curly, red hair who looked between the two girls. “We have here, Alice Jones and Hope Swan. They just happen to look alike.”
Mrs. Hatfield looked at both of them again as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, but then gave up on trying to figure out why they looked so much alike when they weren’t actually related.
“You two will clean up this mess and then tomorrow you will pack your bags to move into the Get Along Cabin up the hill.” She said firmly.
“But…” Hope started to protest. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten herself into this situation. The moment she had slapped Alice she knew she’d been in the wrong, but it was like she couldn’t stop herself. Mrs. Hatfield cut her off with a look that would stop the deadliest murderer from coming anywhere near her.
“You have two hours to make this back porch spotless and then tomorrow you will have until noon to pack up your stuff. Are we clear?” She barked at them. Hope and Alice nodded. Mrs. Hatfield walked past the two sullen girls, motioned for the rest of the campers to follow her, and left the two girls on the back porch. Hope and Alice looked at each other, neither one wanting to admit that they were somewhat at fault, and began to start cleaning up what they could. Alice realized, after they cleaned the entire back porch, that her drawing notebook and charcoal must have ended up in the lake during the scuffle.
Hope was determined to ignore Alice. Since they had been made to inhabit the Get Along Cabin, Hope had not said one word to her. Alice watched the first two days as Hope would get up in the morning with the camp radio station that blared into the cabin at 7AM, grab her things for a shower (their cabin boasted it’s own bathroom complete with shower, so they always had hot water and only had to share with each other, and not trek down the hill to the communal one), got ready after her shower, and headed down to the mess hall for breakfast. Alice liked to take her time in the mornings, especially since she and Hope had to also share the Get Along Table for all their meals. Luckily, they were able to join their own cabins for daily activities, but meals and free time were all spent together so they could learn to ‘get along’. Alice kept herself busy reading and rereading books she had brought with her, or drawing in another one of her notebooks. The bad gut feeling that Alice always had around Hope had calmed down immensely since they’d been made to cohabitate, and Alice, for the first time, wondered what her gut had been trying to tell her.
Hope, on the other hand, knew this whole thing was her fault but refused to admit it. She was being stubborn (like her mother). She had no idea what had compelled her to slap Alice when seeing the look on Sterling’s face told her that he had honestly mixed up the two girls. She just knew that she was so angry that a boy she kind of liked couldn’t tell the difference between them and it had really made her angry. She felt that her whole camp experience had been ruined by this girl and no amount of ‘I’m sorry’s’ were going to make up for that. Even if she needed to be the one to apologize to Alice. So she continued to ignore her instead.
Hope had known Alice liked to draw, but she didn’t realize how much she drew and just how good she actually was. She’d been drawing the past two days any time they were in the cabin. After each picture was finished being drawn, she would carefully rip it out of the book and tape it up on the wall by her bed. Many of them seemed to be landscape drawings of a small town that boasted an old clock tower above, what Alice had mumbled, was a library. Other drawings were of people that Hope had originally assumed were in Alice’s life, but when she drew a picture of what looked like a huntress version of Snow White and Prince Charming, Hope assumed that they were either part of Alice’s imagination, or maybe video game or cartoon characters. Hope still refused to talk to Alice so she couldn’t ask her what they were all about.
On the third day of their isolation, it rained. Cold, windy rain that made the campgrounds into a giant mud pit, so everyone had to stay in their cabins after lunch. Which meant Hope and Alice were stuck with each other until either the rain stopped or dinnertime. Hope was bored out of her mind. Unlike Alice, she had not thought to bring cabin activities to do when stuck in a cabin. She figured being at camp all the entertainment was provided for you. She hadn’t counted on downtime due to a rainy day.
It was unbearably muggy in the cabin, even though the rain brought cooler temperatures, the humidity was still clinging making Hope feel hot and sticky even though she had goosebumps. She figured opening the window a touch wouldn’t be that bad, just enough to cool the room down, or at least give her a bit of a breeze in which to lower her body temperature.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened. Hope attempted to partially open the window, but it was as if it had a mind of its own and sprang open all the way. One little tug and rain and wind came pouring into the room!
“Oh, crap!” Hope exclaimed as she tried to get the window back down. A gust of wind and a torrential downpour of rain came sweeping into the room.
“HELP!” Hope screamed as papers started getting blown around the room and her bedspread started to get soaked.
Alice had been listening to music through an old iPod (cell phones were not allowed at camp, and even if they were, the reception was probably terrible) with earbuds in her ears when she heard Hope screaming. She took a deep breath, wondering what had happened that made Hope actually want to speak to her. She looked over to see rain pouring in the window onto Hope’s bed, and her drawings being blown off the walls and getting absolutely soaked.
She immediately tore the earbuds out of her ears and ran over to help. It took both of them, but they eventually got the window down to just a crack, enough to help cool the room but not enough for the rain and wind to get in.
“Oh, no!” Hope said, looking at the mess that had befallen the room. She started picking up the drawings that had been blown off the walls. “I’m so sorry.”
Just a few days ago Alice’s gut would’ve made her believe that Hope had done this on purpose and she would have been seething with anger. But today, today her gut was telling her Hope was being completely sincere. And why hadn’t it been doing this before. Why had she thought Hope was this horrible person after barely meeting her and over a stupid boy? She was 13 for goddess sake, she should know better than that.
“It’s okay.” Alice said, trying to save some of the pieces. She’d try and hang them over the radiator and see if they could be salvaged.
“Did you draw all these?” Hope asked, picking up one of the least wet pieces of artwork. It was one that Alice had done based off a book she’d read. It was Red Riding Hood, but retold as if she were also the wolf. Alice had drawn her with her red cloak billowing around her with a wolfish grin upon her lips. It was a stunning picture.
“Yeah. They’re based on a book I read.” Alice said not wanting to give Hope more information then she’d asked for. Their relationship was tentative at this point and her drawings were a sore spot for her when they were made fun of.
“They’re really good.” Hope said, now looking at the picture of the Evil Queen from Snow White. She definitely did not look like the Disney version, with the high ponytail and low plunging dress with bustier. “What book?”
“Um, it’s a new series. The first book came out a year ago, the sequel should be out right when camp ends. It’s called Once Upon a Time.” Alice gathered the rest of her drawings up from Hope as she explained the book. When it had come out, Alice felt as if someone had reached straight into her dreams and put them on the page. She’d always loved a good alternative fairy tale, but she’d seen these characters in her mind for years. It was like the author had created these characters directly from her brain.
Hope gasped. “Once Upon a Time by Henry Mills?” She asked incredulously. Alice nodded and Hope broke out into a huge grin. “That’s my brother. He wrote it.” Alice almost dropped the pictures on the damp floor again.
“Your brother is Henry Mills, the author of the book I’m currently obsessed with?” Alice couldn’t believe it. She’d almost become mortal enemies with the sister of her most favorite author. Stupid gut feeling. “You must tell me everything you know about the sequel?” She asked, now overly excited.
“Uh, I actually haven’t read it.” Hope admitted. She wasn’t much for fairy tales. She preferred crime and mystery novels. Alice’s eyes almost bugged out of her head at her admission.
“Your brother wrote a book and you didn’t even read it?” Alice asked, appalled. She ran over to her bed and Hope thought she might be ignoring her again, but then she realized she was searching through her belongings.”Ah ha!” she exclaimed when she found what she was looking for. It was a copy of Henry’s book with a brown cover that was supposed to mimic leather with gold lettering.
“Isn’t your last name Swan?” Alice asked as she brought the book over to Hope.
“Pen name.” Hope said, shrugging. She opened the book to the table of contents. She knew it was a book of fairy tales, that much Henry had told her, but Hope preferred reality to fantasy. Something she definitely picked up from her mother. Give her a good crime drama any day over a sappy Disney movie. The first chapter was entitled Wanted: Snow White for Crimes Against the Queen: Murder, Treason, Treachery. Well that was definitely different from the Disney version. The second chapter was titled A Wolf in Red Clothing, the third simply Elf Tonic.
Hope turned the page to the first chapter to see a wanted poster illustrating the chapter title. It was a pencil drawing of Snow White on a wanted poster with her crimes listed below her face. The drawing looked slightly familiar to Hope. Something about the chin, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Henry probably had it around his apartment when he was in the development stages and she’d seen it there and forgotten. But it tickled at her brain.
“They don’t seem to be your typical fairy tale fare do they?” Hope said flipping through to see other pencil drawn illustrations throughout the book.
“They are so much better. No damsels in distress in need of rescuing by a big strong prince, lots of women power and what not. Characters popping in and out of other fairy tale’s stories, and earned True Love’s Kiss. Your brother has a very vivid imagination!” Alice said excitedly.
“What’s this?” Hope asked, flipping to the final picture in the book, a baby being put into what looked like a tree with the name Emma on her baby blanket.
“It’s the whole impetus for the next book! What happens to Emma in the Land Without Magic after her father saved her from the Evil Queen’s curse to make everyone unhappy forever. She’s supposed to be the Savior and bring back the happy endings!” Hope ran her fingers over the picture, almost as if she were looking at a memory, rather than a fictional drawing.
“Our mother’s name is Emma.” Hope said pensively. “I didn’t realize Henry named a character after her. She’s amazing. Raised both of us without a dad. I guess he was in our lives for a little bit, considering the age difference between me and Henry, but he died when I was two, so it’s just been us and her for pretty much my whole life. She didn’t grow up with any family, so I guess it’s fitting...” Hope said wistfully, her heart suddenly so thankful that Henry decided to name a character in his book after their mother and make her the hero she always felt she was. “What about you, Alice? What’s your mother like?” Hope asked, wanting to take the spotlight off of her.
The smile that had been on Alice’s face vanished. She didn’t necessarily look sad, just void of emotion. “I don’t have a mother, just me and my Papa. My mother also died when I was two.” She took the book back from Hope, closed it, then sat to face Hope. “That’s weird, right? That both of us lost a parent when we were two?” Alice looked at Hope expectantly, waiting for something more from her, but she just looked down at the ground.
“There was a fire at our apartment. Papa got me out, Mama wasn’t so lucky. After that we moved out of Boston to the country. He still works in the city though, he just wanted something better for us and he didn’t want reminders of my mother all over the place. I don’t even have any pictures of her, something about them getting all burned up in the fire. I’m not sure why they didn’t have any in the Cloud or Google Photos or whatever. The only picture I’ve ever seen of my mother is a pencil sketch my Papa did when they first met.” Alice set her head back against Hope’s bed frame where they’d been sitting down on the floor. She glanced over at Hope who was looking over at her with wide eyes. “What?” Alice said, concerned.
“My father died in a fire too.” Hope barely whispered. “Mom got me and Henry out, but she couldn’t get back in for him. And the only pictures I’ve seen of him are from when he and my mom originally met, before he left her the first time. Somehow, all our pictures were lost in the fire, which, like you said, makes no sense seeing as we all have computers and smart phones and what not.” It was Alice who now had wide eyes when Hope looked over at her. “Don’t you think that’s weird?” Hope continued, “That we look alike and that we both lost a parent in a fire and that we have barely any pictures of the other parent. What’s your dad’s name?” Hope asked, all sense of pretense going out the window. She suddenly felt like they could be connected somehow. This overwhelming heaviness had invaded her body and she needed answers that could make it go away. There was no way they had this much in common without there being something connecting them.
“Killian Jones.” Alice answered immediately, because her gut was going crazy, practically pushing her to find these answers. “And your mother?”
“Emma Swan.” Hope replied. They sat in silence, not sure where to go from there. The answers hadn’t brought any huge revelation. Neither name meant anything to the other.
“When’s your birthday?” Alice asked. “Mine is September 27th.” If they had the same birthday that could still mean something. Maybe the reason for no photographs had been because of something else.
“September 28th.” Hope said. They both deflated a little. Until…
“What time were you born, Hope? I was born at 9:07 at night. I know because Papa always reminds me that it was the beginning of this huge lunar eclipse that also happened to fall on the Harvest Moon that year and it was called the Super Moon, so he used to call me his Super Harvest Baby.” Alice smiled at the memory. She looked over at Hope whose mouth was practically on the ground.
“I was born at 12:27, right when it ended. My mom also used to call me her Super Harvest Baby.” Hope paused as if she were thinking of the next thing to say. “This can’t be a coincidence. I...I,” She paused again, trying to get the right words out. “I think we might be twins, just born on either side of midnight.” Hope struggled to get the words out, her eyes now filling with tears at the prospect that she might not only have a sister she didn’t know about, but a twin sister at that.
The two girls stared at each other for a while, not sure what to do with the information that they both felt was the truth. Hope had felt the weight that had been pressing on her lift the moment she had suggested they were twins. Alice’s gut had stopped sending her warning signals too. They both felt this had to be true, they just couldn’t figure out how it could be true.
“Do you think we were separated somehow? Maybe our mother and father adopted us and we’re not biologically theirs?” Alice wondered aloud.
“No. I’m the spitting image of my mom, and so are you I suppose, just with blue eyes instead of green. And my dad had brown eyes, so I know they didn’t come from him.” Hope said, disputing Alice’s theory right off the bat.
“But my I have my dad’s blue eyes, which would also mean you do too.” Alice contemplated.
“Maybe they lied to us about the fire. It seems awfully convenient now that our other parent is dead and all the pictures of us with that parent disappeared.” Alice said grimly. She really didn’t like the thought of her Papa lying to her about something that important, but it seemed the only logical conclusion at the moment.
“Henry!” Hope all but yelled in Alice’s face. Alice looked at her confused. “Henry! He was 15 when I was born. Certainly he would know the whole story. Hopefully, he would tell me the whole story.” She suddenly looked concerned. “We need to talk to him somehow. I don’t want to freak him out in a letter, which means I somehow need to call him.” She started pacing the cabin. “But the directors won’t let us use phones. Even if we were in better standing than we currently were.” Hope said, getting more and more distressed.
“I think I can help you with that part.” Alice announced as her face widened into a huge smile.
It was lunch time the next day before Alice finally clued in Hope as to what she meant. Since they were in the Get Along Cabin, they were also forced to eat lunch at their own table away from the rest of the cabins. But Alice’s friend, Lori, from her former cabin, had managed to sneak a cell phone into camp and was using that to get money, food, and other sundries from her cabin mates.
Alice walked by her former cabin after receiving her lunch in line and gave a series of knocks on the table as she walked by. That was apparently the signal to let Lori know that she was interested in using the phone. Alice continued walking to the table she and Hope shared to eat lunch.
“That’s it?” Hope asked, having watched Alice give the signal.
“Yes. She’ll get in touch with us at some point today. You better have some money ready for her or she won’t give us anything.” Alice said, taking a bite of her sandwich which looked to her to be just orange marmalade and bread. Hope grimaced.
“What, it’s good.” Alice said, defending her sandwich choices.
They didn’t hear from Lori until after lights out that night. Hope’s anxiety was getting the best of her, convinced that her mother had been lying to her about her father her whole life. Alice was taking it more in stride, as she didn’t get flustered easily. That and her gut didn’t seem to sense that her father had ever lied to her, which made things more confusing.
A series of knocks, similar to the ones Alice had tapped on Lori’s table earlier that day, sounded from the other side of the door. Alice knocked back before letting Lori in. Hope rolled her eyes over the whole spy scenario they had going on.
After the door closed, Alice finally spoke. “Hope needs to make a phone call.” Lori looked at Hope, only knowing that she was the rival of her friend.
“Why should I help her?” Lori asked scrutinizing Hope who sat on her bed practically ignoring the whole conversation. “She doesn’t even look like she wants my help.”
“I do want your help.” Hope said with a sigh. “I need to call my brother. It’s an emergency and it concerns both myself and Alice, so name me your price so we can just get this over with, please.”
Lori arched a bushy eyebrow at Alice who nodded in agreement. “20 bucks.” she said simply.
“20 bucks for a phone call?” Hope asked incredulously, but this phone call was important and she really needed to talk to Henry.
“Hey, you took way more than that playing poker the other night.” Lori retaliated. Hope sighed. Lori was right. She’d walked away with at least $40 in quarters and ones. Hope walked over to her bed and pulled out a small box from under it and grabbed twenty ones. She stood up and walked back over to Lori and gave her the money. Lori made a big show of counting the money out before handing the phone over to Hope.
Hope dialed the number for Henry’s phone, thankful that she’d had his cell phone number memorized since she was six in case of emergencies, and praying that he answered even though it would come up as an unknown number. Surprisingly, he answered on the first ring.
“Hello?” Came the voice of her brother from the other side of the line.
“Oh, Henry, thank goodness. It’s Hope.” She said relieved.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at camp?” He asked, and then, “Are you alright? Do I need to come rescue you?” Big Brother Henry, always looking out for Little Sister.
“No, everything’s fine. Or, well….I don’t really know how to explain it.” She paused trying to get her bearings. Alice had distracted Lori from listening in by showing Lori her newest drawings that she’d done since moving into the Get Along Cabin. It seemed that Lori was a big fan of Alice’s artwork. Hope took a deep breath, “Um, there’s a girl here, who looks almost, well no, she is, identical to me. Her name is Alice.” She paused trying to see if she could hear any type of reaction from Henry, but there was nothing but the sound of his breathing on the other end. “Anyway, we have some questions, and, well, I thought you might be able to answer them.”
Henry remained silent for so long that Hope almost had to check the phone to see if they were still connected. After what seemed like forever, she heard Henry sigh.
“Do you have a day when your camp goes into town that I could possibly meet you?” He asked, and then, “Meet you and Alice?”
Hope looked over at the camp calendar that showed all the outings the camp would take during the six weeks. Sure enough, there was a town day coming up in two days. Hope told Henry this and they made plans to meet at a small coffee shop that Henry found through Google Maps.
“Do you know who she is, Henry? Do you know anything about what is going on?” Hope asked, her voice sounding really small.
Again, a resounding silence on Henry’s side. Hope could almost see him warring with himself whether to tell her anything or wait until he saw her in two days, and then she heard him sigh. The sigh she recognized as the Little Sister had won sigh.
“She’s your sister. You and Alice are twins.”
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Jellen leaves a 🌸. While he is rightly scared the son of his leader, he is also curious.
Send a flower to hear ... 🌸… a curious fact.
He has no idea who this moron is, but Bular is feeling indulgent.
“I’m one of the few swordweilding trolls I’m aware of that draws their swords from their back. This is because it’s easier and faster to do so from the hip -- the reason being is that the blade portion of a sword is too long to draw straight up and clear the scabbard. Think about that stupid fleshbag movie, what was it, Wonder Woman? Where she has her damn sword down her dress. It doesn’t work that way, all she would have done is cut her clothes off.
“Obviously I have no trouble drawing from my back. When I was young, I had a mage put a spell on my blades and the scabbards. They’re not solid. When I draw, the holsters open on their own, and when I sheath, they do the same thing. It allows me to draw with the same sort of speed, but from my baldrics, negating the issue of the steel catching in the scabbards.
“Generally speaking, if you’ve got a blade held in baldrics, it’s not your first line of defense; it’s your last.”
