#jasper dayne

[fycourtera]

{libation: chapter one/1} samuel & jasper

Jasper: Now, whut’s a boy like you doing out alone in the woods? *his hand comes up at leisure, resting crooked against the tree branch.*  Samuel: I’m not alone. *spinning around so his belt clacked against the wooden playsword, he held it up in a defensivd stance Leah had taught him. He couldn’t show fear, he told himself. He was a Brackner.* My brothers are with me. Jasper: *Making a show of looking both ways, he exudes light amusement with every careless gesture.* What. *The shrug was exaggerated.* You got invisible brothers? Samuel: *snaps* They’re stalking a deer. If you lay a hand on me— Jasper: They’ll stalk me instead? *He chortles to himself, shoving off the tree. Dry leaves smashed beneath his feet as he walked in mockery of stocking, he thought, the forest is dying. Dry leaves, cracking twigs, vibrant sunbeams, the air itself thirsted for water. Not good. He hated fire.* Samuel: Stop that. *annoyed* My brothers don’t strut with their hand flicked. You look like a girl. Jasper: A girl? *This boy was amusing. He lowered his hands.* And that’s an insult? You can tell its brothers you got, not sisters.  Samuel: *stubbornly* I have three sisters. Jasper: *Three sisters and plural brothers? Did his parents ever leave the house?* And they let you talk about them like that? *whistles through clenched teeth* If I’d had a sister she’d have smacked me. Samuel: *He wrinkles his nose, caught. Leah wouldn’t hit him. But she probably wouldn’t have liked the comment either.* Do you have a sister? Jasper: Yup, an invisible one. *He surveyed the child curiously: he wore a light tunic, but the shoes….the shoes were too nice.* Whut’s your name, boy? Samuel: I’m not a boy! Jasper: Bit short for a man. *fairly, reaches into his tunic. He stops suddenly, seeing the boy tense. A sad look crossed his face before he held both hands up, palms facing him, friendly like.* Easy boy, I’m not gonna hurt you. Samuel: That’s what you’d say if you wanted to hurt me. *wrinkles his nose* Jasper: Smart boy. *he wiggles his fingers to show his innocence*  Samuel: *snappishly* What are -you- doing in the woods alone ?  Jasper: Hunting. *And he wiggles his fingers again.* Samuel: Without a bow? *warily, eyes transfixed by the wiggling fingers* Jasper: Don’t need a bow.  Samuel: Hunting what? Jasper: Oh, a very smart boy. *He dropped one hand, patting his chest, keeping the other one up—honestly, he could cast easier with it out anyways. But he didn’t think he would have to.* Here, let me start then. Jasper, at your service. *The head nod was a mockery of a bow.* Samuel: *The words ‘Samuel Brackner, and my father is Lord’, in a haughty, intimidating were bit back as he saw the jape of a bow. This Jasper was too at ease—he clearly was muggleborn. And he wasn’t convinced Jasper didn’t mean him ill.* Samuel. *Shifting his feed in the leaves, his addition is sudden as a bullet and so weighted.* And I don’t need a bow either.  Jasper: *At that, he outright laughs, patting his chest once more. An apple appears to leap to his hand. Messily biting into the scarlet flesh, juice dribbled down his chin.* All right then, Sammie. *Another apple appears in hand, and he tosses it to him.* Here. Samuel: *Catching it on reflex, his mouth waters just at the scent. Nicholas had stolen his snack. Hesitantly looking back at Jasper, he squeezes it between sweaty fingers.* I don’t trust you. Jasper: *With another laugh, he nods in approval as he lounges back against the tree. Head tilted in jovial amusement, he crosses his legs and pops his knee unconcernedly.* You shouldn’t. But do I look like an Evil Queen, Sammie? Samuel: *bristling* Samuel. *He eyes the apple again. Stomach crying out for it, he’s still half tempted to chuck it at Jasper.* And I’m not some dumb princess either. Jasper. Aye, Sam-u-el, there you go then. *Crunching as he bites, he wipes his chin with the back of a hand. He gestures with his own apple.* Must be safe to eat then. Samuel: *Three glances between the apple in his hot hand and the smirking Jasper — and his grumbling, eager stomach — convinced him really, if Jasper wanted to hurt him, he only had to cast a spell. He could try, Samuel thought in determination as he bit into the apple, he had two years under his belt now with proper training. What training could Jasper have? He devoured the apple, rubbing his lips and asking,* Don’t suppose you have any strawberries? Jasper: *Watching Sammie inhale the apple, he’s wide-eyed and puffed up cheeks.* Oi, slow down there. Geesh, half-starved are ya? Strawberries too? Greedy… Samuel: No— *Now he just had a core. The he could throw without regret. No problem.* It’s just, my brothers ate the snack I brought. And I skipped breakfast. *He added as an afterthought, hurriedly* We all did, cause well, the girls needed it more. Jasper: Ah, the invisible brothers. *Nodding, a look of knowledge crosses his expression. He lifts his chin.* Admirable of ya. Suppose it wouldn’t be gentlemenly to eat before ‘em. *Arching an eyebrow, he leans down to pat apple bits off his chest. What a gentlemen I am. Casually, as his hand swiped, he added easily,* You’re not a bad liar, Sammie, but honestly—obviously you’re some noblemen’s son. If’ya gonna lie, might not want to insist on the posh proper pronunciation like that. *He chucks his apple core at the ground. As it rolls in the dirt, he adds cheerily,* Hey, maybe a new apple tree’ll pop up. Then you can eat them all and your brothers will never know about it. Samuel: *stiffening his back, he clenches the core in his hand. One good throw and maybe he could distract him long enough to run. The last statement confused him. Hesitant, his words had sudden reservation,* All right. Yes. It’s Samuel Brackner. And you’re muggleborn. *Breath quick, his brows furrow as he puzzles,* You don’t seem dangerous. Jasper: *An ugly look crosses his jovial face. Oh, Brackner, well then, there was a name he knew well enough and had no love for. The last statement made him laugh again, reminded him the boy couldn’t be older than thirteen. He’s sad a moment. Stuck between his smirk and a tone of gravity, his words were weary* Oh, stick with not trusting me, Sammie. Believe me. Samuel: *Goodness, how many colors could a man turn in thirty seconds? He was purple, then red, and then the only color that came to Samuel’s mind was ‘blue’, though it wasn’t like he turned into a blueberry or anything. He’d have laughed then. That would be almost as good as when Nicholas accidentally transfigured his gerbil into a kiwi. Smiling at the memory, he spoke with odd sureness.* How could I believe you and not trust you at the same time? And I prefer Samuel. There’s lots of Sams and Sammies, but I’m not so common. Jasper: *His smile returns, chin lifting to eye the little lordling with the clever questions: too smart, he truly was.* No…I suppose you ain’t at that, Samuel. And I don’t mean your noble birth, that don’t mean horse manure. Samuel: *He giggles at the phrase, smirk lifting with smug pride.* It wasn’t what I meant either. I just meant it like unique. Jasper: *An honest smile lifts his own lips, even as he hears a shout behind him.* Aye. Samuel: *turning at the shout, he says hurriedly,* My brothers. *He was warning him now? Why would he do that? He might be one of Mitchell’s…but he didn’t think he wanted to hurt him either.* Jasper: *amused, even as he shoves himself forward* Not so invisible after all. Samuel: *Looking back to him he says hesitantly,* You should go. If they see you… Jasper: Kind of you to worry. *tiny chuckle* You don’t want us all rounded up and beheaded then? Best not tell your father that I reckon. Samuel: *nose wrinkling again, he speaks firmly* Talking to me isn’t a crime worth dying for. Jasper: *quieter* If you heard my true crimes you might think different. Samuel: *Under another, louder whoop of joy he recognized as Charles.* I don’t care, cause they’ll just assume you were threatening me. Jasper: Brothers are wont to do that. *Sadness covers his expression again despite his smile. He stuck his hand in his pocket.* Samuel: You have them? *hurriedly glancing at the trees, wrinkling his nose, not understanding why he didn’t just go.* Jasper: I had one. *He doesn’t see Samuel now. Everything turns dark, then the world is sparks and flames, and Ralph is in the middle of an inferno. Shouting, screaming at him, yelling madness of the bloody nobles, telling him to fight it, fight them, keep using magic however available to him to strenghten it, strengthen himself. It had been madness then; now he understood his brothers words. He breathed out, the small, confused face of Samuel floating in front of him. He was a lord-to-be, those bloody responsible for all of it. But Jasper only softened his expression, afraid he’d scared the boy.* I get it, you’d do anything for them. Still do, I guess. He’s just invisible now.  Samuel: *He’s breathing heavy, but he nods as Jasper finally finishes his thought.* Yeah. Exactly. *Before he said another word, the man was gone. He sighed. Why did he have to wait til he was seventeen to learn the cool spells!?* Nicholas: *laughing* You have to see the catch I made, Samuel—you should have seen my shot!?- it wa— Charles: *holds his hand up, asking hurriedly* Samuel, who was that!? Samuel: *Grinning at Nicholas, he exclaims* How big!? *Waving Charles off.* I don’t know really—he was kinda odd. Said his name was Jasper? Charles: *stilling, voice deathly quiet* Jasper!? Jaspet Dayne!? Samuel: I dunno, maybe. Nickkk, how big!? Can I try the bow next? Nicholas: No. *grinning* Huge though, come on— Samuel: But it’s my turn!! Nicholas: It’s my bow! Charles: Oh for the—Samuel. What did he say exactly? Samuel: Nothing. Talked about brothers mostly.  Charles: Samuel. Jasper Dayne—he’s one of the ones—attacked—*breathing very harshly* Samuel: *He goes still for a moment and then says pointedly,* Then I don’t think it was him, cause he didn’t want to hurt me. I just think he wanted to talk.  Charles: *he exhales, rubbing his chest, asking quieter* You all right? Samuel: *stubbornly* Fine. *tiny pause* ..seriously, Charles, I’m okay. Nothing happened. *quieter* Thanks, though. Charles: *slow nod* …all right, you stick with us though now okay? Samuel: You ran ahead! Nicholas: *chuckles, covering his own nervousness* Here—you can try the bow. Samuel: *beams* Really!? *takes it, surprised by how heavy it was and holding it up stubbornly* Charles: *smirk* Don’t drop it, now. Samuel: *lifts his arm and chucks the apple at his head*

[fycourtera]

{chapter twenty-six: 2} jezebel & jasper

God has such a sense of humor.

Jezebel came to a stall, hand dropping to her side and instantly fisting pink chiffon into her side. The internal blasphemy not withstanding (and she had been worse), she could not bring herself to be apologetic. A month had passed. The moon had moved through an entire cycle since that blasted ball, since she had seen and tended to Timothy - a month since word. Yet not two hours after she had told Malcolm he was free to tell his mother, that there was no chance she would see them again, Jasper Dayne was sitting on the fence outside the hall. Irony was a determining factor in her life, it appeared, but she was not amused.

He was relaxed, a bow on his back, metal shirt over trousers she imagined were getting too hot to wear considering how dark the color. An easy smirk lit his lips up. She couldn’t see what was making him smile, but it broke her into a panic. Heart pounding as she came up the path, she lowered the basket (Malcolm had been insistent she take sweets “if not for her than for the kids”), mouth opening. Then she gripped the wicker tightly. 

“Easy Jezebel, no need for the fright.”

Only when he had finished speaking did Jasper lift his eyes to her. She saw a thin green stem spinning between his fingers, pink and white petals from the little flower blurring as a pin-wheel would against the sky. Rubbish as always at hiding her emotions, she breathed out. How could his appearance not cause a fright? There was no denial possible: the man was a murderer. Coldblooded, warmblooded, it didn’t matter the distinction, he had taken lives. 

Now he sat, knees crunched in the sturdy wood post she had mended the last summer, reinforced with magic, flower in hand. Her sister was beside him. 

“Jezzie!” Kathleen was wearing another of the flowers behind her ear, smile stretched between them, trusting and gleeful. “Look what Jasper got for me!”

For her sake, Jezebel managed an honest smile and neared closer. Sweaty palm offered up to her, she grasped her sister’s hand, rubbing beneath her knuckles as she looked, and blinked. It was a button, scarlet and shaped like a heart. Though her gaze had not torn from Jasper’s long, she brightened honestly to behold it. The way Kathleen held it, you would think it was the world’s most precious diamond.

“Oh my god!” Jezebel exclaimed with ease, “It matches your sweater perfectly, Kathy!”

“Mhmmmm.” The nod was earnest, the tone sing-song as her seven-year old sister twisted. “For my birthday. Jasper remembered.” 

She looked at him shyly, a pink flush in her cheeks from pride and delight. Kathleen was as expressive as she herself was. Jezebel smiled a moment, but the wariness was returned: it unsettled her to hear the open friendship from her little sister. If Jasper were capable of the atrocities she knew already he had committed…she could not even bear to think. 

“That’s wonderful. Did you show Allie?” The false-brightness in her tone did not go unnoticed by Jasper, if the color of his knuckles on the fence was any indication. As Kathy shook her head rapidly once more, exuberant as she was oblivious to the tension, Jezebel leaned to kiss her cheek and murmured, “Go show her! And Papa, all right?” 

Her sister scampered to the sound of Jasper’s derisive snort.

“Jesus, Jezebel, you think I’d hurt Kathy?”

“I didn’t think you’d hurt anyone.” It pained her to hear the bite in her own tone, but not as much as it hurt her to see the flash of hurt in his eyes. She looked away. Jezebel sighed, leaning against the fence herself. It bent from her added weight, but she only laid the basket over it. After the briefest sideways glance to Jasper to see he hadn’t moved, she lifted the red-white checkered cloth. Pulling a caramel out, she offered it to him with the same gesture Kathy had used to show her the button. It was a sign of friendship and peace. 

Jasper stared at it warily, with such ferocity in his clenched teeth that Jezebel was sure he’d give himself a toothache before he had the sweet. Quietly startled to realize he didn’t trust her anymore than she now knew she could trust him, she pulled it back and popped it in her mouth. His gaze darted to her lips with a sudden smile, he chuckled and shook his head at her. 

“Well, poisoned it migh’ not be, but I still don’t get it now do I?”

The tease only added to the weights on her heart, but she slid the basket towards him so he could choose another. How could he keep his voice so light after everything? Her heart was still thudding in her ear.

“If I scare you so much,” His tone remained light as he looked at her plucking a sweet, popping it in, clasping his hands over his knees and hanging off the top post. “Why don’t you tell me to git?”

Jezebel knew she ought to just tell him to leave, but she was wary of making him angry. It was more than that though, a tiny nagging voice sounding like her mothers told her with uncanny perception: Jasper was an old friend, however infrequent his visits had become. Her gaze stuck on his as she sucked the molten-sweet, pushing her tongue between her teeth to unstick them, seeing him do the same. How could he have done all he had? She wanted to understand. 

“I’m not scared.” Jezebel said slowly, rubbing the candy off her lips and noting the tiny arch of his eyebrows in response. “But after what you did…” His eyes narrowed. The frown in his lips was mirrored by hers in an instant: how could he not think that would have changed things? How could he have expected she might just overlook it?

“You killed people! Innocent people-“

“Innocent.” He scoffed his disbelief, sneering at thin air. Her heart flipped.

“Did you really think I could just welcome you with open arms, Jasper?” Anger flaring in her heart, the ardor of the fire was outmatched only by her own hurt. The incredulous twinge to her emotional response was missed by him: his gaze was hard, and equally flummoxed.

“You mean, did I think you migh’ understand? Did I think my friends—”

“Friends!” The word left her lips in a shocked gasp before she thought: eyes wide and swimming with emotion. It did not deter him, only made him raise his voice, amend his words. Were it not for the incredulity in his own tone, she might have struck him.

“Yes, friends! They hunt you too, the bastards! You’re one of us!”

“I am not.” There was a tremor in her voice, Jezebel’s back snapped straight. Her eyes still watered, her jaw stuck in a hard line. “Jasper, I wouldn’t—I couldn’t —”

But that had hurt him more, she could see, and cut off startled to recognize that tears were swimming in his own gaze. He spun from her. The basket fell from his grasp, toppling off the fence and littering the ground with sweets.

“Jezebel, I wouldn’t hurt you. You are my friend. Even if you don’t think so, no matter how you think of me - no matter how things have changed…you’re…you’re one of us, dammit.”

Tearing her gaze from the wrapped candies bouncing in the grass to look back at him she took a step forward and took his hand.

“If you mean, I have magic.” Her voice had dropped to a near whisper. “Then yes, I am. That I studied it illegally, that I lost someone because of it…yes, I am.”

“What else could I mean?” He snorted it, eyes wide with confusion and exasperation. “So sorry I thought I could find a friend here, Jezebel. My mistake.”

There was something in his gaze apologetic: she knew what he was thinking, but she couldn’t think about it too. Not that. Not after everything that had transpired: not when she knew he was responsible for that horrific attack, had held a woman prisoner, had murdered. But there were other memories too, other things she’d seen with her own eyes of this man whose hand she held.

“As far as friendship goes…Jasper, I remember the first time I met you.” She squeezed his hand, lifting her hand to his cheek and turning it back to her.

The stubble scratched her palm, numb over the callouses from grasping a shovel, slipping over a burn from cooking. There was panic in his eyes as he met her gaze, but it did not silence her. Nothing would, when she suddenly saw him that close. 

“You came to the hall - were one of the first people to do so - and had half a dozen stolen spell books under your arm. Proudly going on and on about how you’d taken them, only Hector strolled in behind you and spoiled it - told me you had gotten them from his uncle. Still, they were the first spell books I’d ever seen. And you taught me how to levitate. Only a few inches, but it was the closest to flying I had ever done. And I told you—”

He was warm to touch, she realized, and pulled back to cup over her other hand on his. Jasper wet his bottom lip a moment, and then murmured, cutting her off pointedly, 

“You told me you had always wanted to fly. So we made a broomstick together, spent ages reading on the spells, and I couldn’t ride it until you found that cushioning charm because it was a right pain in the—”

“Yes.” Jezebel giggled, startled to hear the soft sound leave her lips. The intensity in his gaze despite the light, lopsided smirk dried her throat. She darted her gaze to their joined hands, wondering when he had laced their fingers. A tear still threatened to drop down her cheek: softer memories made it hard to remember how angry she had been, let alone anything else. Breathing harder, she nodded absently, freeing a hand to rub the tear away and echoing herself, “Yes, I remember.” 

The pause that stretched drew her gaze back to his eyes. It was never silent in the forest, let alone in the hall: not that far off her siblings raised hell, a button was being shown off proudly, her father swung swords and hopefully Abe was still napping. Animals brushed through the paddock, braying and snorting, few in number but making up for it with noise. The wind blew through the trees. And as Jezebel looked into his eyes and saw the sadness, if not remorse, for his actions, she pressed her lips together and said softly,

“Jasper, I miss him too.”

The sudden silence struck her hard, as if he’d slapped her with a look. Jezebel became a statue as she looked at him. 

“Who?” His voice was dangerously low, thrumming with something she didn’t recognize. For the briefest of moments, Jezebel was afraid, but she had no choice but to answer him. Heart aching, she said softer, another tear on her cheek,

“Ralph.”

That one name brought such a visceral change over him she reared back. Voice raising, she spoke quick, hesitant with breath, trying not to focus on the anger in his eyes, “I just mean — if you want me to understand, Jasper, you have to be able to talk about this —”

“Because you’re a fucking doctor now, that it?” She pulled back from the fence too, wind claiming her flyaway hair and skirt, heart pounding louder. Jasper got off it, but he didn’t let it go. His knuckles were white again, fingers grasping around it as if he needed something to choke. 

“Because I miss him! That’s all!” Jezebel threw her hands out irritated and shocked: she had thought she had seen him angry before. She was mistaken.

“I have talked about this Jezebel, with you even but for that you would need to be my friend and you’re making it clear after what I did—”

“You killed people-” She muttered it, hating to hear him generalize. Men, women, god forbid even children — their own, all of them, so many of her friends had died that night, struck down as they fought by Jasper’s side even, and more she had never met. People with lives, with families and jobs, prospects and dreams…they were gone now…how could he bloody say she was one of them? She couldn’t do that! She wouldn’t! All he was doing, all they had done was make themselves as bad as the noble bastards had said they were all along! 

“Jasper—”

“They killed him!”

There was a ringing silence at Jasper’s proclamation, visceral and stark as it was against the mellow summer day. Her eyes went wide. Tears seemed to freeze in their tracks on her cheeks. Holding his gaze, she found herself gaping over and over, finally muttering, finally having the strength to say only, “What?” 

“What?” He mocked it, hand rubbing through his short hair, over the stubble on his cheek and shaking the metal shirt so it rang in unison with his tone. Jezebel winced. “Ralph was the only family I had left after Mum died - father never was bothered to stick around for me and Ralph did he? Not when he knew what freaks we were, not when he saw us use magic! And didn’t Ralph knock me out of our burning house after an accident? Only to get knocked out by a beam, die tragically in a fire?? Day after Christmas? Least we got Christmas together, right?!”

Why was he saying it like she should know it wasn’t true—when all he did was state what he’d told her before? What he had said to everyone? Thomas had been the one to tell her, actually, she had wept when she heard…much like she wanted to weep now. The anger he shook with seemed to paint the night red, red as the button he gave her little sister. 

“Wrong.” His hands dropped to his side, smacking so close to her she could hear the echo. He took a step forward. “They killed him, Jezebel. My brother, ” He smacked his chest, leaning forward over her, tears in his eyes but breath hot near her lips. “All I did was fucking justice.”

“Who did?” Her whisper was a whimper, though the last statement stung.

There was a flash behind his eyes, and he reached for her, took her shoulders, gripped too hard. Forced off balance, she looked up with him without fear, lifting her hand back to his cheek, rubbing the tears away. He shook with her soft gesture, pressing bruises into the soft pink flesh of her arms. 

“You don’t believe me.” The anger, hurt, and incredulity was a mask she saw now - there was something spinning behind his eyes, a darkness she had never seen. It clung to him harder than he held her, and another trickle of fear traced up her spine. 

“I do—”

“Don’t lie.” His voice was harsh. “Don’t fucking lie, Jezebel, I know you.”

“Like I thought I knew you? You’re hurting me, Jasper. ” She snapped, dropping her hand to find his wrist, trying to peel it from her. “And I wasn’t lying. I do believe you, what I don’t believe is that murder is ever justice.”

There was a cruel twist to his lips even as he obeyed her hand, loosened his grip. “Ah, it’s more than that, darling. Taking someone’s life…you don’t know what that feels like. To have that power, that control, over someone…there’s nothing, nothing like it. You don’t know how strong it made us.”

Sickened by the loving caress suddenly in his voice — sickened to think she had heard that before, under very different circumstances — she stiffened as she snapped, “That isn’t strength. It’s cruelty. And it’s not power, it’s weakness; it’s losing control and giving in to fear—”

“I don’t mean strength of—of fucking character, Jezebel.” Jasper’s tone gained a hard edge. Good. She preferred that. The sweet way he had spoke of death had churned her stomach. Then her eyes clouded over with emotion and confusion.

“Then what do you-“

“Magic.” The answer was swift, but unhelpful. “But tell me, Jezebel.” He still had a hand on her, rubbing along her shoulder, fingers tickling at her neck, but the free hand lifted to his shirt. Shaken, her gaze followed his. “If it was just a fire, what’s this?” 

The twisted scar he revealed choked her breathless, eyes watering again. It was maroon, a dark scar, the skin so malformed it looked black and burnt in the shape of an ‘M’. She didn’t need to ask what it stood for, and it wasn’t ‘muggleborn.’ Her fingers instinctively reached for it, gaze hesitant on his before she brushed over it. The skin was so cold it shocked her. Shouldn’t it have burned her? Her gaze flicking between it and his eyes, she realized with a burst of ice water in her veins why there was no reaction. His skin there was dead.

“Jasper…that’s…”

“I know.”

She was still breathless. “I’m so sorry, Jasper, I’m so…”

“Don’t be.” His voice was hard. “It’s not as though I mind the reminder I am who I am. It..it…helps.”

Jezebel dropped her hand, heart hammering. She could understand that, she realized dimly and bitter, though she didn’t know what it helped him with. Considering the uncertainty in the world, their dwindling numbers…she was proud of who she was too.

“Jasper, I—I want to help you too — and so does, so does Adelina, Malcolm — “

Jasper’s eyes hardened and he shook his head at her. Her voice went higher with her own frustration and anger,

“—but this isn’t the way! Attacking innocent people solves nothing! You have to tell us—”

“I know what I’m doing, Jezebel.”

She cut herself off, not knowing what to say. The mark glared at her, brazen in his defiance. She looked at it anxiously, a pit in her stomach.

“Who-“

“The fucking nobles.” He said it with such heat that she knew even if he knew which one had branded him, which one had hurt him and taken his brother, it was obvious: to him, it did not matter. “All of them, they have hunted us, tortured us—for centuries, Jezebel. Centuries of persecution and hatred, all because they cannot fucking accept that we’re better than they are. That we’re—”

And she hated it, hated the ‘we’, hated for a moment that she felt her own anger at the injustice stirring — no, she tried to remind herself, no, not all of them, Malcolm’s father hadn’t —

“Allowed to live is an abomination to them, it’s an -insult-. They’d kill you too, Jezebel, and me. They did this. Their attitude, that hatred, their greed and immorality - you think they look at us as individuals? We’re all the same to them - we’re chattel. To be used and fucking thrown back when they’re done with us, sent to the slaughter house. My brother deserved better. Your -mother- deserved better.”

Her heart stopped, and then a feeble protest left her lips. ”My mother was sick, Jasper. You were there the…the day she….”

“Your mother was forced out of her home the moment she realized that you, like her sister had before you, had magic. She was forced to come live in the forest while pregnant, lay on the ground night after night -“

“Jasper stop.” Tears were flooding her eyes and falling freely from her eyes. 

“-she lost that child, didn’t she? Your unborn brother?”

“That wasn’t my fault-“

“No, it wasn’t.” Jasper’s voice hitched shocked, both hands leaving hers to cup her cheeks. There was horror in his gaze as he sought to reassure her he had no intention of insinuating that, and horror in her heart as she realized she craved his reassurance. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, kiss her cheeks, tongue flicking out to taste her tears and lick her dry with sweet softness. Jezebel shut her eyes, hands lifting from her sides to wrap around his waist.

“It was them. Jezebel, don’t you see? It’s always been them.” 

“It needs to stop.” Jezebel muttered into the crook of his neck, tears drying and head shaking as rapidly as Kathy’s had as she showed her the button. “Jasper, it needs to end, it has to — there’s been so much pain already, so much —”

“It will end, I swear. We’re stronger than they are, we’ll win, no matter what we have to do to make sure that stays true — and it will end.” His voice was soothing against her ear, despite chilling her as well, realizing what it was in his eyes that had sunk hooks into his soul: madness.

“That, Jezebel, I can promise you.”

[maybellinemagic]

Preview of things to come

[courtera]

Jasper: Now, whut's a boy like you doing out alone in the woods? *his hand comes up at leisure, resting crooked against the tree branch.* Samuel: I'm not alone. *spinning around so his belt clacked against the wooden playsword, he held it up in a defensivd stance Leah had taught him. He couldn't show fear, he told himself. He was a Brackner.* My brothers are with me. Jasper: *Making a show of looking both ways, he exudes light amusement with every careless gesture.* What. *The shrug was exaggerated.* You got invisible brothers? Samuel: *snaps* They're stalking a deer. If you lay a hand on me-- Jasper: They'll stalk me instead? *He chortles to himself, shoving off the tree. Dry leaves smashed beneath his feet as he walked in mockery of stocking, he thought, the forest is dying. Dry leaves, cracking twigs, vibrant sunbeams, the air itself thirsted for water. Not good. He hated fire.* Samuel: Stop that. *annoyed* My brothers don't strut with their hand flicked. You look like a girl. Jasper: A girl? *This boy was amusing. He lowered his hands.* And that's an insult? You can tell its brothers you got, not sisters. Samuel: *stubbornly* I have three sisters. Jasper: *Three sisters and plural brothers? Did his parents ever leave the house?* And they let you talk about them like that? *whistles through clenched teeth* If I'd had a sister she'd have smacked me. Samuel: *He wrinkles his nose, caught. Leah wouldn't hit him. But she probably wouldn't have liked the comment either.* Do you have a sister? Jasper: Yup, an invisible one. *He surveyed the child curiously: he wore a light tunic, but the shoes....the shoes were too nice.* Whut's your name, boy? Samuel: I'm not a boy! Jasper: Bit short for a man. *fairly, reaches into his tunic. He stops suddenly, seeing the boy tense. A sad look crossed his face before he held both hands up, palms facing him, friendly like.* Easy boy, I'm not gonna hurt you. Samuel: That's what you'd say if you wanted to hurt me. *wrinkles his nose* Jasper: Smart boy. *he wiggles his fingers to show his innocence* Samuel: *snappishly* What are -you- doing in the woods alone ? Jasper: Hunting. *And he wiggles his fingers again.* Samuel: Without a bow? *warily, eyes transfixed by the wiggling fingers* Jasper: Don't need a bow. Samuel: Hunting what? Jasper: Oh, a very smart boy. *He dropped one hand, patting his chest, keeping the other one up--honestly, he could cast easier with it out anyways. But he didn't think he would have to.* Here, let me start then. Jasper, at your service. *The head nod was a mockery of a bow.* Samuel: *The words 'Samuel Brackner, and my father is Lord', in a haughty, intimidating were bit back as he saw the jape of a bow. This Jasper was too at ease--he clearly was muggleborn. And he wasn't convinced Jasper didn't mean him ill.* Samuel. *Shifting his feed in the leaves, his addition is sudden as a bullet and so weighted.* And I don't need a bow either. Jasper: *At that, he outright laughs, patting his chest once more. An apple appears to leap to his hand. Messily biting into the scarlet flesh, juice dribbled down his chin.* All right then, Sammie. *Another apple appears in hand, and he tosses it to him.* Here. Samuel: *Catching it on reflex, his mouth waters just at the scent. Nicholas had stolen his snack. Hesitantly looking back at Jasper, he squeezes it between sweaty fingers.* I don't trust you. Jasper: *With another laugh, he nods in approval as he lounges back against the tree. Head tilted in jovial amusement, he crosses his legs and pops his knee unconcernedly.* You shouldn't. But do I look like an Evil Queen, Sammie? Samuel: *bristling* Samuel. *He eyes the apple again. Stomach crying out for it, he's still half tempted to chuck it at Jasper.* And I'm not some dumb princess either. Jasper. Aye, Sam-u-el, there you go then. *Crunching as he bites, he wipes his chin with the back of a hand. He gestures with his own apple.* Must be safe to eat then. Samuel: *Three glances between the apple in his hot hand and the smirking Jasper -- and his grumbling, eager stomach -- convinced him really, if Jasper wanted to hurt him, he only had to cast a spell. He could try, Samuel thought in determination as he bit into the apple, he had two years under his belt now with proper training. What training could Jasper have? He devoured the apple, rubbing his lips and asking,* Don't suppose you have any strawberries? Jasper: *Watching Sammie inhale the apple, he's wide-eyed and puffed up cheeks.* Oi, slow down there. Geesh, half-starved are ya? Strawberries too? Greedy... Samuel: No-- *Now he just had a core. The he could throw without regret. No problem.* It's just, my brothers ate the snack I brought. And I skipped breakfast. *He added as an afterthought, hurriedly* We all did, cause well, the girls needed it more. Jasper: Ah, the invisible brothers. *Nodding, a look of knowledge crosses his expression. He lifts his chin.* Admirable of ya. Suppose it wouldn't be gentlemenly to eat before 'em. *Arching an eyebrow, he leans down to pat apple bits off his chest. What a gentlemen I am. Casually, as his hand swiped, he added easily,* You're not a bad liar, Sammie, but honestly--obviously you're some noblemen's son. If'ya gonna lie, might not want to insist on the posh proper pronunciation like that. *He chucks his apple core at the ground. As it rolls in the dirt, he adds cheerily,* Hey, maybe a new apple tree'll pop up. Then you can eat them all and your brothers will never know about it. Samuel: *stiffening his back, he clenches the core in his hand. One good throw and maybe he could distract him long enough to run. The last statement confused him. Hesitant, his words had sudden reservation,* All right. Yes. It's Samuel Brackner. And you're muggleborn. *Breath quick, his brows furrow as he puzzles,* You don't seem dangerous. Jasper: *An ugly look crosses his jovial face. Oh, Brackner, well then, there was a name he knew well enough and had no love for. The last statement made him laugh again, reminded him the boy couldn't be older than thirteen. He's sad a moment. Stuck between his smirk and a tone of gravity, his words were weary* Oh, stick with not trusting me, Sammie. Believe me. Samuel: *Goodness, how many colors could a man turn in thirty seconds? He was purple, then red, and then the only color that came to Samuel's mind was 'blue', though it wasn't like he turned into a blueberry or anything. He'd have laughed then. That would be almost as good as when Nicholas accidentally transfigured his gerbil into a kiwi. Smiling at the memory, he spoke with odd sureness.* How could I believe you and not trust you at the same time? And I prefer Samuel. There's lots of Sams and Sammies, but I'm not so common. Jasper: *His smile returns, chin lifting to eye the little lordling with the clever questions: too smart, he truly was.* No...I suppose you ain't at that, Samuel. And I don't mean your noble birth, that don't mean horse manure. Samuel: *He giggles at the phrase, smirk lifting with smug pride.* It wasn't what I meant either. I just meant it like unique. Jasper: *An honest smile lifts his own lips, even as he hears a shout behind him.* Aye. Samuel: *turning at the shout, he says hurriedly,* My brothers. *He was warning him now? Why would he do that? He might be one of Mitchell's...but he didn't think he wanted to hurt him either.* Jasper: *amused, even as he shoves himself forward* Not so invisible after all. Samuel: *Looking back to him he says hesitantly,* You should go. If they see you... Jasper: Kind of you to worry. *tiny chuckle* You don't want us all rounded up and beheaded then? Best not tell your father that I reckon. Samuel: *nose wrinkling again, he speaks firmly* Talking to me isn't a crime worth dying for. Jasper: *quieter* If you heard my true crimes you might think different. Samuel: *Under another, louder whoop of joy he recognized as Charles.* I don't care, cause they'll just assume you were threatening me. Jasper: Brothers are wont to do that. *Sadness covers his expression again despite his smile. He stuck his hand in his pocket.* Samuel: You have them? *hurriedly glancing at the trees, wrinkling his nose, not understanding why he didn't just go.* Jasper: I had one. *He doesn't see Samuel now. Everything turns dark, then the world is sparks and flames, and Ralph is in the middle of an inferno. Shouting, screaming at him, yelling madness of the bloody nobles, telling him to fight it, fight them, keep using magic however available to him to strenghten it, strengthen himself. It had been madness then; now he understood his brothers words. He breathed out, the small, confused face of Samuel floating in front of him. He was a lord-to-be, those bloody responsible for all of it. But Jasper only softened his expression, afraid he'd scared the boy.* I get it, you'd do anything for them. Still do, I guess. He's just invisible now. Samuel: *He's breathing heavy, but he nods as Jasper finally finishes his thought.* Yeah. Exactly. *Before he said another word, the man was gone. He sighed. Why did he have to wait til he was seventeen to learn the cool spells!?* Nicholas: *laughing* You have to see the catch I made, Samuel--you should have seen my shot!?- it wa-- Charles: *holds his hand up, asking hurriedly* Samuel, who was that!? Samuel: *Grinning at Nicholas, he exclaims* How big!? *Waving Charles off.* I don't know really--he was kinda odd. Said his name was Jasper? Charles: *stilling, voice deathly quiet* Jasper!? Jaspet Dayne!? Samuel: I dunno, maybe. Nickkk, how big!? Can I try the bow next? Nicholas: No. *grinning* Huge though, come on-- Samuel: But it's my turn!! Nicholas: It's my bow! Charles: Oh for the--Samuel. What did he say exactly? Samuel: Nothing. Talked about brothers mostly. Charles: Samuel. Jasper Dayne--he's one of the ones--attacked--*breathing very harshly* Samuel: *He goes still for a moment and then says pointedly,* Then I don't think it was him, cause he didn't want to hurt me. I just think he wanted to talk. Charles: *he exhales, rubbing his chest, asking quieter* You all right? Samuel: *stubbornly* Fine. *tiny pause* ..seriously, Charles, I'm okay. Nothing happened. *quieter* Thanks, though. Charles: *slow nod* ...all right, you stick with us though now okay? Samuel: You ran ahead! Nicholas: *chuckles, covering his own nervousness* Here--you can try the bow. Samuel: *beams* Really!? *takes it, surprised by how heavy it was and holding it up stubbornly* Charles: *smirk* Don't drop it, now. Samuel: *lifts his arm and chucks the apple at his head*