#krabat au

[itsagrummel]

Modern AU Krabat II

part 1

The master sending out dreams to get young and exploitable labour for his mill:

Every time someone drinks a shot:

When the miller men are tasked to walk and get somewhere:

When the master is being annoyed by people coming by his mill:

That one bowl they all seem to share at the mill:

The magic knife:

And finally what some people might consider doing after reading Krabat:

[writerfae]

I read the Krabat au! Or The trial (idk if there's more because the link in the list of aus was broken, so I just looked it up, and that's what I found)

First, it was so well written! I love how you wrote strong emotions into this fairytale scenario! I really liked the word choices. The way Callan's fear gets overtaken by love (it's also a very Callan thing!) (Also, it's similar to Adél which i didn't expect (sorry for shoving my ocs into everything)

On the less coherent side:

They're my boys, my boys fhhsshjkdsfh😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Henry as a crow!!!!

Callan coming to save his love!!!!

The way he finds Henry!!!

"Wordlessly the miller stared at them and Callan had to suppress the urge to hide his face in Henry’s chest."!!!!!!!!

This is my favorite ship, I'm crying😭

Thank you so much! I’m so glad you like it! Also damn those stupid broken links - my master lists are full of them but I can’t find the right links to replace the broken ones

Like I said I’m really proud of this writing piece and I love the AU a lot, so I love that I finally get the chance to talk about it a little <3

It’s one of two (and a half) AUs that are dedicated to Henry more than to Aiden, which is a nice change. And I just love Henry in the Krabat AU especially.

The boys in Krabat turning into crows (or ravens, rather) was actually the thing that gave me the au idea after I rewatched the movie after what must’ve been years!

In The Trial, I really enjoyed writing Callan and how his love for Henry carried him through his fear, making him brave (which even in canon is an important if rather unknown Callan characteristic)

Also the connection he has with Henry <3 my favorite ship indeed. I love them so much!!

I talk about them way too little, which is a shame honestly, especially since they were my very first Knights of the Alder ship (and the only truly canon one). I should change that…

Also, The Trial was all I wrote for this AU. Beside a little snippet from a heads up seven up tag, where Henry and Talon talk with each other (I love their friendship here btw). You can find it here, I think you’ll like it ^^

[theoniprince]

Ich wollte (will) im Urlaub an meinen Storys arbeiten. Allerdings ist es viel zu warm und wir lassen die Seele am Meer/Pool baumeln. Mir juckt es aber echt unter den Fingern anzufangen. Muss endlich Esther/Jay für mein Seelenheil schreiben und das verbunden mit dem setting der AU... und natürlich Krabat!Adam qwq (wobei die Rollen da noch nicht fix sind) und all meine anderen angefangen WiPs (denke immer an dich, Moritz). Dienstag geht es nach Deutschland zurück. Mal sehen.

[muka-rapak]

Master Beekeeper Jorik, the predecessor of The Master from the Krabat fanfiction Das 4. bis 6. Jahr by Gringo

I adore that he chose to become a beekeeper after leaving The Mill, because it already tells us from a visualized standpoint that he's pretty much the opposite of Krabat's Master.

No fancy, and very pale clothing. Just like the beekeeper's wore back in those times.

That, and bees have a theme of life, happiness and warmth to them. Krabat's Master had a theme of death, ... any negativity in general, and the cold.

I like these parallels!

[fedonciadale]

New year’s eve at the black mill

So, here it is: My gift for @mimiofthemalfoys for @jonsaexchange. The tale is based on a sorbic folk tale (a slavic speaking minority in the Lausitz, a region in Eastern Germany). It was turned into a yound adult book by Otfried Preußler, which nowadays is a classic (and one of my all-time favourites) So, I hope it is a lesser known tale and therefore will have at least some surprises for my giftee, and a little bit of angst as well. I really hope, you like it. It has gotten rather long, so I put in under the cut.

Also on AO3.

Jon ran through the trees, his breath sounding loud in his ear. He held her hand and was looking for cover. Above him, a hawk was flying with fast beats of his wings, his shrieks piercing his ears. He didn’t need to look up to know that the hawk only had one eye.

“He mustn’t see your face”, he shouted at the girl, risking a look back. He saw that she held her hood in place with her other hand, only a small ringlet of her auburn hair had stolen out of the hood.

They slipped into cover and Jon turned to her, careful not to focus on her face. He tugged the strand of her hair back under the hood with trembling fingers, while he held his gaze firmly at the branch of the elder where they had stopped to catch their breath. There was a rustle in the brush-wood, a mouse was peering at them. There was only a scar where its left eye should be, and Jon took her hand again and they resumed their run.

Jon tried to set a steady pace. It was best not to stay too long in one place. He almost stumbled, when his foot met a rabbit-hole, and a fox came out of his den, his left eye only a black hole, the right eye fixed on the girl behind him… The master’s voice was in his head. ‘You could still have it both. The girl and the magic. Just make the right decision.’

Jon woke up in a cold sweat, and yet oddly relieved. The pictures of the one-eyed animals were fading before his inner eye. He felt certain, that the girl’s face hat stayed safely hidden, both from the animals in his dream as well as any eyes who might have spied from outside into his dreams. He sat up. Long habit had him carefully avoiding bumping his head on Bran’s bed above him. I’d best not sleep again.

Jon found his clothes in the dark, he tried not to wake the others, although their laboured and heavy breathing told him their dreams were barely less troubled when his own. They should know better than to fret. The signs are all there. This year it’s me. Only Bran, the apprentice boy, was sleeping soundly, his breathing went regular and deep. Jon envied his ignorance. Nevertheless, he touched the boy’s arm so that he could feel his warmth, reassuring himself that he was alive and well. With a short shudder he remembered the nightmare he had had three days ago. Bran lying on the ground, his legs in a twisted ankle, whimpering with pain, and the voice of the master in his head. ‘Magic would come in handy, now, wouldn’t it Jon?’.

Jon made his way to the kitchen, carefully avoiding the squeaking stairs. He didn’t need light. After three years in the mill, he could find his way in the dark. When he opened the kitchen door, Sam was already there. He was tending the fire. Even today, Sam would tend the fire, bake bread, cook and run the house as smoothly as a well-built mill-wheel going round and round all year long, summer and winter. My winter is here, this year.

Jon wondered, if it would ever be Sam’s turn, if the Master would ever decide that this year it was Sam who would be the one. Sam the Simple, as almost everybody called him. Robb had not called him that, but Robb was dead. Bran did not call him that either, imitating Jon. Jon wondered if the small apprentice who loved climbing knew that Sam was anything but simple. Bran was clever, and he knew how to play an act.

Sam arched an eyebrow, when Jon entered the kitchen. Jon looked at his fellow journeyman and wondered how he had ever fallen for the simpleton act.

Jon shook his head at the unasked question: “I don’t think he saw her.”

He let himself fall on one of the kitchen stools. “Whatever happens, this night I’m going to have a good sleep one way or the other.”

Sam frowned. “Please don’t joke about that. I’m so afraid. I wish we had had more time to prepare.”

Jon nodded. “Me, too. But I doubt you could have taught me more. You were always better than me, even if nobody knows.”

Jon smiled at his friend. “Sam the wizard,” he said.

Sam’s answering smile was very van.

“I think I should not test the Master’s boundaries today.”, Jon said. “Will you tell the girl, that today is the day?”

“I will,” Sam answered solemnly.

Jon reached in his pocket. “If you will give her this, she’ll know the message is from me.”

For a short moment he fingered the strand of auburn hair he had spun into a ring, that fit his little finger, before giving it to Sam.

Sam watched the ring. “I should be able to find her by the colour of her hair alone,” he said. “It is good, you were so careful. Where will I find her?”

“Fly to Schwarzkollm. Her house is the third on the right side, the one with the green door. She has the most beautiful voice, you’ll ever hear” His voice trailed off and he remembered how he had first heard her singing, on the eve of Easter more than two years ago, a lifetime ago. Her voice had enchanted him and had filled him with longing.

He reached out and hugged Sam. “Will you promise me something, brother?”, he asked.

Sam nodded.

“Do not push her. If she decides that she doesn’t want to risk her life, so be it.”

“You will not survive a direct confrontation with the Master,” Sam said.

“I know,” Jon said, “but then she would not have to die, if we lose.”

Sam took Jon’s hand in his own. “I promise.”, he said.

He turned to the window, but Jon held him back.

“If I die… “, he hesitated for a moment.

“If I die, don’t forget me. Don’t forget me like everyone is forgotten in this god-forsaken mill.”

“I won’t,” Sam said. “If I can, I will take up the task.” He grinned somewhat sheepishly. “I would have to find a girl, though.”

Jon laughed while Sam opened the window.

“Remember not to lose confidence. You are best when you’re confident. We practiced often enough, you can do this.” Sam said.

“I will,” Jon answered grimly.

In Sam’s place sat a raven. Jon smiled, that even in raven form, his best friend was a little plump. The bird picked up the ring of red hair and set out, his wings beating in a steady rhythm, just in the direction of the rising sun, towards Schwarzkollm.

Jon closed the window, his heart heavy. If he hadn’t unlearned how to pray in the mill at blackpool, he would pray now.

Old habit had him reach into his pocket and take Robb’s knife. He let it snap open and watched the blade, that was as black as it had been since Easter. No reason, why it should be shiny. I’m as much in mortal danger as ever.

Since Sam was away, Jon began to lay the table. He was interrupted when the Master entered. The black eyepatch over his left eye stood out against his face, that was paler than usual. The red birthmark on his neck was clearly visible today. His hands were behind his back.

“Here you are, Jon,” the Master said. “It’s New Year’s eve today. I told you, I would hear your decision today.”

“My opinion has not changed. I won’t take your offer. I won’t become Master here at the black mill only to do as you did and kill one of the journeymen in my stead each year for the Godman.”

“I gave you a taste of what it means to have no magic. You saw what will happen to Bran.”

Jon shuddered remembering his dream about Bran.

“The future is never clear, and I won’t become a murderer like you.”

The Master shook his head. “You wouldn’t even kill Rast, would you?”

Jon just looked the miller in the eye. Robb, he thought, Jeyne his love, whom I never met, Grenn, and long ago, Ned and Cat.

“Someday you’ll have to pay for your crimes,” Jon answered. “Maybe today is the day.”

The Master barked a short laugh.

“You have a last duty to fulfil, Jon.” When he brought his hand in front of him, Jon saw that he held a shovel. He shoved it into Jon’s hand.

“There will be need for a grave on the waste plane tomorrow.”

Did you tell Robb to dig his own grave as well, and Grenn? Jon could fell anger building up and the thirst for revenge. It would be easy to defy his order. He doesn’t know how strong I have become with Sam’s help.

Jon gritted his teeth. He shouldered the shovel and left the kitchen.

His anger carried him all the way through his grizzly task. Each time he forced the shovel in the frozen earth he though of Robb, of Grenn, his dead friends, he thought of Jeyne who had been driven to madness and drowned herself, when she could not escape the nightmares, after the Master had found out who she was, how she was called. He fought of Ned and Cat whom he only knew about because Sam had told him about them. In Sam’s early days at the mill, Ned had tried to take down the Master, and Cat had come on New Year’s eve. She had begged the Master to release Ned in the name of their love, just like the black book stated it should be done. But the black book was not very specific, and the Master had set the conditions.

‘Do you know your sweetheart?’ the Master had asked. Cat had been confident. ‘I know him well’. But then the Master had turned them all into ravens, he ordered them to put their beak under the right wing. Cat had failed at recognizing her love in raven form. Both had died the same night.

It won’t be like that today… I trained with Sam. I’ll put my beak under the other wing. I just have to resist obeying for a short time…. just enough time that she’ll see.

****

Poor Bran! He had no idea why all the journeymen were so tense this New Year’s eve. Rast went into a fit, when he realised Sam was not there and that they had to prepare the evening meal themselves. He shouted at Bran and would have hit the boy, if Jon had not shoved him away. He wanted to scream. None of you needs to be tense, it’s me. It’s me! But he could not say it aloud.

It had been dark for quite some time when Sam finally came back. There had been snowfall the whole day and Jon wondered, if their journey had been hindered by the master.

The girl trailed behind him, and Jon felt as if a fire had been lit in the room, and he felt warmth in his heart. He rushed to her side and took her hand. “You’ve come”.

She just nodded solemnly, her eyes smiling. The journeymen were staring. Her red hair flowed freely around her head. Some snowflakes still stuck to it and became shiny drops when they melted.

She raised her voice. “Master Miller”.

The Master stepped out of the black chamber, his right eye burning. His whole posture was threatening but the girl squared her shoulders and refused to be intimidated.

“It is New Year’s eve, Master Miller of the blackpool mill. As is the custom, I’ve come to beg freedom for one of your journeyman.”

“And who would that be?” the Master asked.

“Jon whom I love.” She answered.

“But do you know him?” The Master scoffed. “He doesn’t even know your name. You will die, before he even knows your name.”

“He doesn’t need my name to love me,” she answered.

“We will see if you know him.”

He looked around at the journeymen. “Go, into the black chamber, all of you. There you line up.”

The twelve journeymen did as they were told. Sam took the time to briefly press Jon’s hand that were coated with cold sweat.

They lined up in the black chamber just like they did every Friday evening, when the Master taught them the dark magic from the black-red book. Jon expected to be changed into a raven. He steeled himself to disobey the Master.

The Master entered leading the girl by the hand. She was tightly blindfolded, and Jon was suddenly overcome with a fear so visceral that he felt as if his blood plummeted to his feet and he feared he would pass out.

“A noise from you, and she dies”. The Master held a dagger to her throat.

“Now, they are all lined up. Just point him out to me.” he addressed the girl.

Jon’s thoughts were twirling in his head and he tried to come up with a solution. He had not expected that! If he would make a noise, the Master would kill her. There was no sign he could give her.

Desperately he looked at her as she passed the line of the journeymen in measured strides. Slowly she went back and forth the line, seemingly oblivious to the Master’s dagger at her throat.

She will die because of me! Robb was right. We journeymen from the Blackpool mill mean ill luck for the girls. It was all for nothing, all the training, Sam preparing me, all for nothing. She is going to die, she is going to die. I wish I had never listened to her singing. It would be better, if I had never talked to her, if I had never met her.

His eyes filled with tears. She stopped just in front of him. She raised her finger and pointed directly at him.

“That is Jon,” she said.

“Are you sure?”, the Master asked.

“Yes, this is my choice,” she answered.

The dagger fell from the shaking hands of the Master and to Jon it seemed as if time had stopped.

She took the blindfold from her eyes. A smile was blooming on her face, and her face lit. She took his hand.

“You are free,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Fetch your belongings and leave the mill.” Sam called out to all the journeymen who stood frozen. “We have to be gone before midnight. We can spend the night at the smith’s barn in Schwarzkollm.” In a corner of his mind Jon registered that Sam must have been confident on the outcome if he had arranged for their night.

None of the journeymen even looked at the master who seemed to have shrunk and leaned at the wall, as if he could not stand by himself. He would die at midnight. The godman would fetch him, him, the black book and the mill. All would go down in fire.

Jon let himself be led out of the room and outside in a daze. She smiled at him, never letting go of his hand, but putting on her hood with the other hand.

They took the path through the forest and when they reached the fox’s den Jon had seen in his dreams this night, he stopped. The fox that hid when he heard them come had two eyes.

“How did you know me?” Jon finally asked. “I was sure I had led you to your death.”

“You were afraid,” she answered. “Not for yourself, but for me. That’s how I knew it was you.”

“I dreamed of walking here, with you, but in my dream, it was spring.”

“I know. I dreamt the same dream. I think it was a sign for us to hope.”

Jon felt as safe as he had never felt in his life and her smile was filling his heart with joy. The loss of his magic was nothing if weighed against her smile and his freedom.

“When we reach my home and I introduce you to my parents and my sister, you’d better know, how to call me,” she said. Her eyes were twinkling with suppressed laughter.

“I am Sansa.”

“Sansa,” Jon said. Her name had a pleasant sound and he liked to let it roll of his tongue. “Sansa,” he repeated.

“Sansa, the singer, Sansa, my saviour”, he leaned down and kissed her, oblivious to the snow falling gently around them.

[writerfae]

The Knights of the Alder - Krabat AU: The Trial

About the AU

Orphan boy Henry starts an apprenticeship at a mill. As he settles into his new life among the eleven other apprentices, he learns that the owner of the mill is more than just a simple miller. The mysterious man is a sorcerer and he teaches the boys in the art of dark magic.

At first Henry is enthralled with this new life of his. But when he falls in love with a boy from the near village, he starts to question if it is truly the life he wants. And then one of the apprentices dies under mysterious circumstances and Henry uncovers a horrible secret. Now all he wants is to find a way out - before it's too late.

As Callan stood in front of the old mill, he couldn’t help but shiver. It was a scary, dark place and everything in him told him to turn around and run.

But he didn’t. He had to stay strong. For himself and for his love.

Instead, he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and knocked at the old door. It opened all on its own, with a creak so harrowing he could feel it in his bones. Callan took one last deep breath, then he stepped inside.

The inside of the mill was even more grim than it looked from the outside. Old and broken, gloomy, with cobwebs everywhere. The wooden floor creaked with every of his movements as he looked around the room.

“What are you doing here?” The harsh voice made Callan jump. He turned around.

There at the end of the steps stood a man, just as old and gloomy as his surroundings. Shoulder-long white hair framed his furrowed face, thin and greasy. His eyes, hazy like mist, drilled into Callan like they were trying to pry open his very soul.

He felt a lump in his throat, but he swallowed it down to reply. Do not show him you’re afraid, he was warned. He will feast from it.

It took Callan all his might to stop his voice from shaking. He pulled down the hood of his cloak.

“I am here to ask of you to give my love to me.”

The miller let out a short, humorless laugh. “Your love you say.” He came forward down the steps. “And who may that be?”

Callan took a step forward as well, straightening his posture. “Henry.”

Just saying his name made Callan feel a little less afraid.

“He’s the one I hold dear.” He met eyes with the old man.

The miller’s thin lips twitched into a smile that made his face look even more bizarre, like a horrid grimace.

This isn’t a man, Callan thought to himself. This is the devil.

“And what is your name?”

Callan gulped. He didn’t answer, looking down. Henry’s warning rang in his ear. He must never learn your name. Or we are both dead.

“I see.” The old man seemed amused. “So tell me, boy without a name, do you think you would recognize your love? Out of all my apprentices?”

The miller watched him with a tilted head. The strange look in his eyes confused Callan. But he was quick to recover.

Of course he would recognize him. Henry was as familiar to him as his own heart. He took a shaky breath, meeting the miller’s eyes. “Yes.”

The old man in front of him nodded. “Then come with me.”

He led Callan up the stairs to the attic, where there was a closed door, heavy and old. The miller opened it and stepped inside.

Callan hesitated only a moment before following him, the thought of freeing Henry from this horrible place getting him to move forward.

He pushed aside the dark pitted cloth that hung in the way and stepped into a dark chamber.

There were no windows, except for a little square far up on the other side of the room, big enough to catch a glimpse on the moon outside, but not for any of its light to lighten up the room.

The moment Callan walked further in the chamber, the rough voice of the old miller sounded through the darkness of the room.

Callan couldn’t see him, but he could feel his oppressive presence weighting heavy on his heart.

“This test will determined, whether I give in to your request or not.”

Candles lit up the chamber, their flames flickering ominously. Callan now stood in the middle of the room, the miller right next to him. But they weren’t alone.

All around them, on the struts holding up the roof, sat twelve crows in a circle. They all looked the same, with shining black feathers and unreadable dark eyes that all seemed to look down on him.

“Which one of these is your boy?” the old man asked, gesturing to the large birds. “Tell me and you are both free.”

He turned to face Callan. “Fail and your love will die. And you with him.”

A shiver ran down Callan’s spine at the man’s words.

Henry had warned him that it would be difficult. That it would be dangerous. They were challenging a sorcerer after all. Yet he couldn’t help the cold hands of fear clawing at his heart.

He looked around the crows that all seemed agitated. They all remained seated for him to take a look.

One of them was his Henry. He just needed to find him and he would be free. Callan wouldn’t have to worry for him anymore. They could finally be together, finally love each other free from fear.

Finding new hope in the thought of spending the rest of his life with the boy he loved, Callan pushed all his fear aside. He closed his eyes, letting his heart take the lead.

Slowly he walked along the circle of crows, in hope to feel something, anything that would tell him which one of the birds was Henry.

His breath was steady and even, much like the pounding of his heart. He took one careful step after another, but none of the crows he passed made him feel anything. So he kept walking.

Until all of a sudden, a strange feeling washed over him. It made him stop right in his tracks. His heart started beating wildly against his chest.

This felt a lot like the worry he felt earlier, when no one came to deliver their sign like Henry said they would.

For a moment he had feared that something went wrong, that he would lose Henry forever. Until Valentin had finally arrived and brought the ring to him and everything was okay again.

Yet this worry was different. Somehow, it didn’t feel like his own. The sound of his heartbeat rang loud in his ears, until it was all he could hear.

He turned around, facing a crow he had almost walked past. He took a step closer to it, eyes still closed.

The beating of his heart seemed to slow down again and suddenly it was to him as if he could hear the beating of a second heart. He opened his eyes, looking up to the crow.

The bird looked back at him and Callan felt a sudden calmness wash over him. His ears were filled with the sound of two heartbeats beating in complete sync.

And that was when he knew.

“This.” He turned around to the miller. “That’s him.”

The miller frowned. “Are you sure?”

But Callan didn’t let the man unsettle him. He knew he made the right choice. “Yes. This is Henry.”

He looked back to the crow, smiling. “The one I love.”

Somewhere in the distance, Callan could hear the creaking sound of a mill wheel starting to spin.

The crows grew uneasy. They began to caw, a chorus of angered cries. Just the one that Callan had chosen remained calmly by his side.

“What are you doing?” The old miller asked, bewildered.

Callan looked around. The birds seemed upset, wildly flapping with their wings. Their calls grew louder with each passing second and with them the sound of the mill wheels spinning underneath.

“What is this all about?” the miller called, “Stop it.”

But the birds didn’t listen to him. Instead they took flight, circling the old man, who tried his best to shield his face from the rapidly beating wings around him.

Callan took a step back and watched with wide eyes as the crows started attacking the miller, until he cowered down to the floor in defeat.

The crows landed around him and as soon as their feet touched the ground, they began to change, one after the other. Until the miller found himself surrounded not by birds, but by eleven young men, all dressed in black robes with the hood pulled down low into their faces.

The old miller looked at them and then to Callan, face unreadable. It was as if his features had turned into stone.

Next to Callan the last remaining crow finally took flight and him and everyone else in the room watched as it changed as well and Henry came to stand before the man that had planned to murder him tonight.

Relief and joy flooded Callan upon seeing him and he couldn’t help but rush to his love, hugging his side.

The miller stood up, watching Henry with the same unreadable expression from before. He didn’t say a word.

Henry just looked back at his old master, pulling back the hood of his black cloak. The other boys did the same. Only when the man took a step closer to them did Henry speak.

“Your time is up.” He pulled Callan closer to him, who rested his head against his love’s chest. “There’s no spell in this world that is stronger than love.”

Wordlessly the miller stared at them and Callan had to suppress the urge to hide his face in Henry’s chest.

Instead he held his gaze and watched as the miller turned around, gave each boy in the room one last unreadable look and then slowly left the chamber without a last word.

As soon as he was gone, Callan felt like he could finally breathe again.

And the apprentices too seemed like a weight had lifted from their shoulders, wide grins spread on everyone’s faces as Henry looked at them and said “Let us leave this place.”

Behind them, the candle flames that lit the room flared up, growing like they wanted to urge them all to leave and Callan and the boys quickly left the room behind and all the memories attached to it.

The mill wheels were spinning and spinning in a relentless pace, swirling up dust that wrapped the mill in an ominous mist. They creaked so loud Callan feared they would collapse any given moment.

It was frightening, but Henry’s hand in his kept him grounded as they ran down the stairs and left the mill as quickly as they could.

As soon as they had reached the gates of the courtyard, the horrible building behind them collapsed with one final sough, crumbling to dust right before their eyes. The boys smiled to each other.

“Finally free,” one of them sighed, saying what they all have been thinking as they finally turned their backs on the place that had held them captive for so long.

Callan turned to Henry, who was looking at him fondly. He stopped walking, taking Callan’s hands in his.

“How did you know?” he asked softly. “That it was me?”

Callan smiled, squeezing his hands. He reached out to brush away a strand of raven hair. “I could feel how worried you were for me. Your heart...”

He put his hand on his love’s chest. “It was beating so fast. I could feel it in my own.”

Henry smiled, leaning forward to kiss Callan’s temple. “Thank you,” he whispered, lacing their hands together. It made Callan’s heart jump.

They had a whole new future ahead of them. And Callan couldn’t wait to spend it with the boy he loved.

“Come,” he said to Henry. “Our future is waiting.”

Henry glanced over his shoulder to the destroyed mill one last time, then he started walking again, pulling Callan close.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Let’s go, my love.”

*

For context (giving context after the story cause I thought it was more interesting that way): Every New Year's Eve the sorcerer kills one of his apprentices in a deadly duel, as a way to stay immortal. He chose Henry for that sacrifice this year but luckily him and Callan (with Talon’s help) found a way to prevent it: the trial.

general tag list: @deadlycupid @writing-is-a-martial-art @writingamongther0ses @blueinkblot @wildswrites @abiandwriting @theroyalcoven @myhusbandsasemni @authortango @charleeyy @formulatingfiction @shiishki @gr3y-heron @bloodlessheirbyjacques @imstillherebitch

[writerfae]

No one cares for my Krabat AU except for me but that won’t stop me from writing for it again some day

[writerfae]

Heads Up 7 Up

I was tagged by @writingamongther0ses thank you!

So this is for my beloved Krabat AU of the Knights. I wrote about the “possibility” they talk about in these lines here

“You’re the most talented of us all. If you knew of this possibility, why did you never try to challenge him yourself?” Henry asked the younger apprentice.

“Only a lover can ask for your freedom, someone you truly love,” Talon explained. “I- I never had someone like that. And even now that I...” The boy sighed.

“It has to be someone from the village,” he added then, quietly, looking away. “It wouldn’t work if-”

“If it would be one of the other apprentices?” Henry guessed. His friend nodded, cheeks coloring a little.

He didn’t dare to meet Henry’s gaze, because he was aware of what he implied and he was aware that Henry knew very well who he was talking about.

I tag @writing-is-a-martial-art @sleepy-night-child @thewalkingnerdx and @pluttskutt if any of you want to 🙈