So I've had this fic gathering dust in my docs for like... a year. And I hate to say it, but I've completely lost interest in finishing it. It sucks cause I really like it and I want to share it.
And I've found recently that just letting ideas flow on here is very rewarding: there's no pressure, no planing, no need to make sure everything's well written or makes sense. I put a lot of work on making sure my fics are good, but I don't need to do that here, and it's actually really nice.
So I'm just gonna put the idea here for you to check out and please, do feel free to add in and give me your thoughts; I've been doing that on another fandom, and it's really fun. I don't know if that's something just from there or a Tumblr thing (it's been some time since I was here, so forgive my ineptitude).
Anyway, let's get to it, shall we? *checks doc* Ahem!
So, last year I saw @jujoobedoodling's amazing art, and my brain went into overdrive. Mythical Sylvanas and besotted historian Jaina? Sign me the fuck up! But it wouldn't stay there, nonono.
What if the Great Sundering divided the continents, leaving Humans completely isolated from the rest of the word, and they developed kinda like us, with tech and stuff, but also magic?
What if, as the centuries passed, they forgot they weren't the only intelligent race on Azeroth? And what if, for some reason, an and "temple" was unearthed, filled with artifacts and books and, more importantly, art. Art that depicted always the same three women, tall and lean and ethereal, with long golden hair and defined muscles. And, most strangely, long, tapered ears!
"What a peculiar discovery!" said the archeologist that uncovered it. "Does this temple belong to an old faith lost to the ages? Are these three their Goddesses?"
And so, time passes, and humans believe the faith of the Three Sisters was an old belief from before the Great Sundering. They study the statues, the paintings, the thousands upon thousands of loose graphite sketches and pencil drawings. Most depict at least two sisters in repose or hunting, draped over plush furniture or with bow drawn. Sometimes they're serious, sometimes they're calm, sometimes they're joyous.
Either way, it's a veritable treasure trove to every historian and archeologist.
Now, scene sufficiently set? Perfect, time to get our useless lesbian.
Jaina is a mage historian; she's dedicated her research –her career!– to the study of the Three Sisters and their doctrine. There's something about them that calls to her, something about the way they were drawn... it's... enchanting. Especially the Second Sister.
Jaina is not being a weirdo by spending literal hours staring at paintings, sculptures, and sketches; she’s just admiring the artistry of the brushstrokes forming plush lips, the craftsmanship of chiseled cheekbones sharp enough to cut steel, or the subtle detailing accomplished by the charcoal blending of shadows to accentuate those deep, mesmerizing eyes.
Then one day, after taking her little brother and his gang to the theater, and getting mercilessly teased for her "crush" on the Second Sister in the process, Jaina returns home, only to find her apartment has been broken into by this very pretty, very tall, and very drunk lady.
And there, slumped against her vanity, chair upended, makeup surrounding her, with one of her dirty shirts over her head like a hood, is her very intoxicated, very pretty intruder. Her skin is golden, like she spends a lot of time in the sun, and her jaw is angular and defined. Her lips are luscious, begging to be kissed and nibbled on. High cheekbones sharp enough to cut steel, and deep enchanting grey eyes, deepened by kohl, that are looking right at her. The flush over those cheekbones deepens, and a wide, sloppy smile stretches her lips. Are those… fangs?
“You’re very pretty! Are you my birfday present?”
Denki had spent the majority of his time in his cell pacing back and forth worriedly. He only went to sleep when he was yelled at to do so. Once he woke again, his pacing continued. Shouto was out there, he’d been nabbed by his ex-accomplices, and he could be hurt and confused or dead and! Denki was an anxious mess. He almost managed to forget his own bleak circumstances. He almost forgot that he was in a prison cell, trapped there by all the bad decisions he’d decided to make in life. Although when the door swung open and the captain of the royal guard stood there, looking almost sorry for him. Surely, one of the other guards had complained about his constant muttering, and wouldn’t he be glad to be rid of him?
“Let’s… Let’s just get this over with, Yamada,” he said, and Denki could almost mistake the look the captain gave him as apologetic. Denki, who was still in his frenzied state of worry, was almost confused by what the captain had said.
“What do you…” Denki trailed off, noticing the blank expressions of the other men and the slight regret he saw in the captain’s. He knew what was in store.
“Oh,” Denki said softly, one hand drifting up to his neck. They were going to hang him.
Shouto took the last flower out of his hair, letting his braid fall apart. He hadn’t wanted to do so, but his father had given him a silent glare once they’d reached the tower. It was probably because the tower was a mess, and even though Father was the one who’d made the mess Shouto was expected to clean it up. They might be leaving soon, but either way, the tower couldn’t be left a mess. He took a deep breath, attempting to keep from crying again. Father had scolded him for doing so once he’d noticed Shouto’s sobs on the way back, and he would get scolded again.
“It’ll be fine…” Shouto murmured, voice shaking. He wasn’t sure that it would be fine. He really wasn’t. But Denki would find him, or he’d find Denki. Shouto loved him, and Denki wouldn’t forget about him, or leave him with his father… He had to come back. He had to.
“Shouto, stop your lollygagging! We need to leave this tower in a pristine condition so no one could ever know we lived here!” Father shouted. Shouto froze from where he sat on his bed. He’d need to tear all his plants down, wouldn’t he? Or could he just leave them? They didn’t look to be guided to the way they’d grown.
“Shouto!” He jolted himself out of his thoughts and started to get up from the bed. As he did, something fell onto the exposed mattress. A scrap of purple. Curious, Shouto picked it up. He moved the material between his fingers as Izuku looked on, curious. Wait a second… Shouto unfolded the scrap of cloth to reveal a sun. The crest of Corona. He’d still managed to hold onto it. Huh. For a moment, he stared at the crest, before taking it and tucking it into his sleeve. He wanted to hold onto this.
“Come on, Shouto! I’ll leave you behind at this rate!” Father shouted. Shouto froze again. Both the people that cared for him would have left him behind at this rate. He’d be fine though. Shouto was adept at waiting. As he turned around to start packing up his clothes, his eyes got caught on a speck of yellow. It looked… Extremely familiar. He walked closer, ignoring the dresser he needed to pack up. At a closer look, Shouto could identify the flower. Gazanias. They were plentiful in the Coronan gardens… He didn’t want to think about that. But they looked an awful lot like something he’d seen before. On a whim, Shouto pulled the cloth with the crest from his sleeve, unfolded it, and placed it next to one of the gazanias. They looked… Eerily similar. Odd. It was almost as if he’d subconsciously picked a flower that looked like the crest. He placed the cloth on his dresser, sun side up.
Shouto turned back towards the dresser, but he stopped again. There were sunflowers on his desk, next to his notebooks. What was it with him and flowers that looked like suns? Come to think of it, almost all the flowers he had were warm colored - orange, yellow, and pink. There must be some sort of reason for it. He shook his head, turning around. The gazanias were in front of him.
“No…” Shouto muttered, turning away from them. The sunflowers. Shouto stared for a moment, before blinking and looking up. Surely he wouldn’t see the crest in the ceiling. His eyes were drawn to the crossvines on his walls, and he sighed. No sun imagery here. He looked back from the crossvines and went back to pulling his wardrobe from the wardrobe. As he took everything out, a petal fell from the ceiling. A crossvine petal. Shouto glanced back up, and hesitated. The crossvines, which hadn’t held a definitive shape in his eye only moments prior, looked like a giant sun.
“It’s nothing,” Shouto said quietly. Though as he spoke, he glanced back at the cloth sitting on his dresser, and back at the flowers. Sun. He didn’t know. For a moment, Shouto was quiet. Then he thought back to that mural he’d seen. Of the three kids. One of the faces had look familiar, for some odd reason. And the baby being held by the girl looked a lot like him.
A memory, almost forgotten, decided to play through his mind at that exact moment. He didn’t know how old he was at the time, but he knew he could see that sun right above him. A blurry small face was in his vision, and he reached out for it. All he could make out were colors, and he could see white streaked with red framing the blurry face. It really looked like the girl in the mural. The… Princess. If he was seeing the princess when she was that age… That was likely eighteen years ago, as Shouto had overheard mention of eighteen years having passed since the prince’s disappearance. It wouldn’t make sense for him to be seeing the princess at that age with that blurry of memories unless… His mind drifted back to when he’d still been puzzling about the thing - a crown, he knew now - and had put it on his head. It had felt… Right. No.
Shouto nearly collapsed onto the stool in front of his dresser. He knew Father would’ve heard that. But this was. He was… No. No!
“Shouto!” Father shouted, as Shouto attempted to steady himself. He couldn’t be, this couldn’t be true!
Denki, hands locked behind him, was walking down the hallway with guards around him. The captain walked in front of him, muttering something to himself.
“Fuyumi already gets mad at me for accidentally going into the old flower room, which I hadn’t even meant to do in the first place, and then she gets mad at me for apparently arresting her brother? How was I supposed to know Dabi, wanted thief, was her brother? Next thing I know, she’ll be telling me that Yamada’s somehow her brother in law or something,” the captain muttered, throwing his hands up slightly in exasperation. Dabi was related to the princess? That’s new.
As if even thinking about Dabi would make his partner appear, Denki saw a familiar mop of grey-blue hair. Shigaraki. He debated for a moment, just a moment, before quickly making work of his two guards, jumping over his restraints, and grabbing Shigaraki by the collar.
“How did you know about him! Tell me! Now!” Denki barked out, holding Shigaraki’s face up against the bars. He’d have a bruise later.
“It wasn’t us!! It was the old man!” Shigaraki said, likely in an attempt to be let go. Which is exactly what Denki did, letting Shigaraki drop back to the floor.
“Old man…” Denki muttered, eyes unfocusing for a moment as he thought. Old man… Oh no. Oh no, no no no no! Shouto’s dad had gotten ahold of him, he’d never get to see him again and Shouto would be lost to him, forever. He felt a hand grabbing onto his collar. Guards. They started to drag him away from Shigaraki’s cell.
“No no no, wait! You don’t understand, he’s in trouble I have to help!” Denki shouted as he was dragged away. He needed to help Shouto. He was the only one that could.
“Shouto! What is wrong with you!” Father shouted up, as Shouto stood back up. There wasn’t any other answer for this, and he knew it was the right one. He could hear thunderous footsteps coming up the staircase, and he quickly stepped out of his room, curtains flying.
“I’m the lost prince,” he said quietly, almost to himself. Father was far enough away to not hear a word he’d said, and Father made an agitated noise.
“Shouto, you need to speak up! I can’t ever hear you when you’re muttering and mumbling like a buff-” Shouto took that moment to speak. He wasn’t going to be ridiculed, not any more.
“I’m the lost prince. Aren’t I?” Shouto asked, turning to look at his father. He’d also heard talk of a tyrannical king, ruling for centuries. Depictions had described him with a bulky build, red hair, and ice cold blue eyes. He knew his father when he was described. And when they described the attitude? Oh, that was his father. Most definitely.
“And you’re the tyrannical king, or should I say ex-king?” Shouto continued, balling both of his hands into fists. His father stared at him, a thunderous expression on his face, before he forced out a laugh.
“You don’t know what you’re speaking of, Shouto. Folktales and legends,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal.
“No, I do! I read through the history of Corona, Father. All depictions of the tyrant king described you as you’ve acted towards me my whole life. Rude, and mean, and…” Shouto cut himself off. He turned away from his father.
“You’re the one that kept me locked away for eighteen years, saying my power could’ve been stolen by others, that I could’ve been secreted away in the night if I was in the real world, well! You’re the one that secreted me away, three days after I was born! You took me when the regent, Yagi Toshinori, led the rebellion and overthrew the castle! You’re the reason that I’ve never had a real life!” Shouto exclaimed, turning back around. His father looked furious.
“Locked you away? Never had a real life? I’m the reason for you existence! I would’ve never had children and lived forever, had I not realized I needed to keep up appearances! And that rebellion, led by my traitor of a royal advisor, would have failed if you hadn’t come along!” Father shouted. Shouto flinched slightly and looked away, before pausing and looking back at his father.
“I should’ve run away years ago. And I’ll do it again. I’ll find Denki and we’ll go far, far away from here, and you’ll never see me again, Enji,” Shouto said. He grabbed onto his hair to throw it up with his left hand, when a hand closed around his other wrist.
“You aren’t going anywhere, and neither is that thief of yours. He’s to be hanged, for all the crimes he’s committed. He won’t be there, waiting for you,” Enji - he didn’t deserve the title of father any longer - said angrily, grip on Shouto’s wrist tightening. Shouto, however, dug his fingernails into Enji’s skin and forced him to let go. He was going to leave, Enji was going to stay here, and Shouto would get to reunite with Denki. And possibly his family. His real family. Enji wasn’t his father anymore. He didn’t deserve the title, in any sense.
“No! You were wrong, you are wrong, and you will continue to be wrong! I’m leaving, and you’re never going to get to use my hair ever again!” Shouto exclaimed. He was about to throw his hair up into the rafters when he felt boots stepping on it, keeping him in place. No. No, no no no! He was going to leave!
“You want me to be a bad guy? I can be… The bad guy,” Enji said, grabbing on Shouto’s hair with a vice like grip. Oh no. Shouto made a very big miscalculation there.
The guards, led by the captain, continued to drag Denki through the halls, with him fighting every step of the way. Denki wasn’t going to accept his death - because of crimes he committed and was willing to pay recompense for the rest of his life - just lying down! That wasn’t the way he rolled, and he needed to see Shouto again! He needed to apologize! He needed to get him away from his father, the horrible man that Denki knew he was.
Out of the corner of his eye as he spotted a flower. Small, but noticeable. His eyes widened slightly, and as he turned back to face forward, the door in front of the captain slammed shut. All the other exits to the corridor Denki stood in with other guards were closed off, and Denki looked around, confused. The captain looked at the door.
“What is this?” he asked, before pounding on the door, sounding slightly peeved. It was quiet. Then the slit on the door opened and a somewhat familiar face appeared.
“Password,” he said, purple eyes narrowing. He looked very peeved, and very sleep deprived. The captain narrowed his eyes.
“What?” The door slit slid open. The person behind it did not look impressed.
“No,” he said, before the slit closed again. The captain gave the door a look.
“Open this door!” he said. The slit opened again.
“You’re not even close,” the person said in a deadpan, before closing it again.
“You’ve got three seconds to open the door!” the captain said, taking a breath to remain calm. Denki continued to stand there, as did the guards that had let go of him. They were all confused by this ordeal as well.
“One!” Denki looked to his left and saw the guard that stood there get yanked up.
“Two!” To his right, a door opened and the other guard was yanked through there, helmet flying off.
“Three!” The helmet clattered to the floor and the captain turned around. Denki stood there, hands chained together in front of him and waved. The door behind him opened, and the tall meek man from the pub smacked the captain upside the head. Denki grinned at him.
“Frying pans, am I right? Works like a charm!” Denki said, gesturing at the pan that he held. The other man looked down at the captain worriedly for a second, right as the other door crashed open.
“Time to run!” Denki said, before shooting off down the hallway, the other man leading the way towards some end goal. He passed that one unremarkable girl from the pub, who waved at him. She had a flower in her hair, the same kind that had been on the sill in the hallway. He tipped his head in her direction, before continuing to run. He heard a long yell and screams as he continued to run.
Eventually, he and the other guy reached a courtyard. The yells of guards were loud, considering they were thundering down the stairs. Over 100 of them, at least. Someone grabbed his arms and moved him over a few feet. The ponytail woman - Momo, if he remembered correctly - stood next to him.
“Head down,” she said, and Denki repeated her words and movement.
“Arms out.” Yet again, Denki repeated her.
“Knees apart.”
“Knees apart. Knees apart..?” Denki asked, looking over to Momo, confused. He didn’t notice the buff man with spiked hair jumping off a tower and onto the other end of the cart he’d been moved on to.
“Why do I need to keep my knees apaaaAAAAAH!” His question morphed into a scream as he was launched into the air. As he spun over in the air with his eyes shut, body bracing for impact, and not moving a muscle, he continued to scream until he suddenly stopped. In a saddle. Denki heard a whicker, and opened his eyes.
“Tenya,” Denki said, surprised. Tenya gave him a look, and Denki stared.
“You brought them here?” he asked. If a horse could raise an eyebrow, Tenya would be. Denki gave him a slight smile.
“Thank you,” he said softly, and Tenya whickered in reply.
“No, really, thank you. I feel like this whole time we’ve been chasing one another - well you’ve been doing the chasing - we’ve just been misunderstanding one another,” Denki said. Tenya gave him an unimpressed look, and Denki nodded.
“You’re right, we should just. Go.” Tenya began to run down the wall they were on, dodging crossbow bolts that were fired at them. As guards began to run after them from behind and the path where it intersected with another wall, Denki knew they had no way to go. But Tenya was still running.
“Um, Tenya?” Denki asked worriedly. The horse didn’t stray from his path, charging forwards.
“Tenya!” Denki cried out, as said horse charged forward and jumped over the converging crowd of guards. Denki started to scream again, as the two flew through the air.
“This isn’t what I was expecting today!” Denki yelled as they flew through the air and landed on the roof nearest them. The tiles were displaced by Tenya sliding down the roof and he nearly broke a hole in the roof as he jumped off again. They flew over a courtyard, before landing on the cobblestone roads of Corona’s capital and galloping through the streets. People had to jump out of their way so they wouldn’t get hurt, but Tenya and Denki did their best to swerve around people. As they galloped through the city, Denki leaned over, closer to Tenya’s ears.
“Alright, Tenya, let’s see how fast you can run,” he said. Tenya neighed, before beginning to charge. They were out of the city in no time.
Tenya didn’t slow down as they went through the forest, following the path that they had run once before when Denki was trying to get away from Tenya and the royal guard. Now they were going much faster, to rescue Shouto. The two charged into the clearing, Denki letting out a small sigh of relief upon seeing the tower. It was dark in the clearing. Odd. Either way, he jumped off of Tenya’s saddle and ran up to the tower.
“Shouto?” he called, worried. There was no answer.
“Shouto, let down your hair!” he called, yet again. There was no answer. With a look of grim determination on his face, Denki grabbed onto the rock side of the tower and started to climb. He didn’t care if he fell, all he cared about was Shouto. He’d barely climbed any when he heard a sound of rustling. Denki looked up, worried for a moment. Then a savior appeared in the form of Shouto’s long, beautiful pink hair. Considering he was at most a foot off the ground, Denki jumped off the wall and grabbed onto Shouto’s hair, before climbing up with only his arms. The look of determination remained. He pulled himself through the window, his face softening and turning into a small smile.
“Shouto, I thought I’d never see you again!” he said, relieved, before his eyes widened. Shouto was chained to a beam and had a gag, and he was yelling about something. Denki didn’t know what it was. He took a step forward, only to be stopped by a white hot pain in his stomach. Had he been… Stabbed?
