An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
content warnings: panic attack, discussion of mortality
remember how i have a talos principle fanfic? apparently neither did i for months lol. anyway, this chapter includes athena finding elohim's panic room, uriel making a confession, and one last bargain!
It is a marvel to gaze upon their land, as it is nothing he’s ever seen. Since the last quarter, the gnarled vines and rough edges of the landscape have faded, and clean, soft grass reaches on for miles at the very edge of the plain’s horizon. The very Hollow where they fought unearths ground flat and structurally sound for building, and formally, the East and West unite on the spot where they were divided.
Rupert looks up from the expanse as footsteps draw near. He is familiar with that steady tread, and looks up to meet a warm gaze.
“Rupert,” Amir speaks, and his voice is honeyed and thick, like coming home, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Rupert’s eyebrows rise, looking around as if to say, well, here I am. Grins. “I don’t think you’ve been searching hard enough. I was only ever in my room.”
With no one around to judge and free from carrying the burden of saving the country from turmoil, Amir is surprisingly playful. His hips shove Rupert’s side, like he is eight rather than eighteen, shoulders firm against his side, “like you’re one to talk when you keep on losing your way around our Castle. I’ve found you in stranger places.”
Rupert flushes at the reminder, “oh come on. Were you looking for me with a purpose in mind, or merely looking to make a fool out of me?”
Amir softens, a hand drifting to his chest front where an inconspicuous satchel lies, fishing out a leather box with the engravings of his family crest. The content is unmistakable.
“Now?!” Rupert all but squeaks. He feels self-conscious and grubby in his casual tunic.
Amir bites his lips to contain himself, but dark eyes betray his eagerness, “I just wanted to show you. I know that our families would throw a fit about my lack of propriety, but I... wanted you to see the ring first. It’s the heirloom ring from my mother’s side.”
It’s rare for Amir to evade formalities; it makes Rupert want to indulge him.
Rupert reaches out for the box as a response, plucking the box from him with hesitant fingers.
Sitting between two clefts of downy material are a pair of engraved rings, a shiny gold coat upon the delicate metalwork that enhances its slim curvature. Not at all fancy, but expensive in its craft. He has an urge to ease the ring from its resting place and put it on, feel the weight of it on his finger. Though, he knows that there is a time and place for everything, quells the urge.
Looking up at Amir, Rupert waits expectantly for his comment, to fill the silence with facts and the details of its forge. Instead, he voices, abashed almost, “do you like it?”
“Yes...yes of course,” he takes Amir’s hand, strokes his thumb at the back of his hand, overwhelmed by the undeniable proof of their upcoming union, “they’re beautiful.”
Amir smiles, the whites of his teeth flashing in a wide, unbridled grin.
Rupert is so gone on this man, steps forward like fish on a lure into the net of Amir’s arms. Sighing into the crook of his neck, he settles at ease, at home. If he revels at the elicited shiver by the brush of lips at Amir’s nape, it is a voiceless and private thing.
There is beauty in both halves of the kingdom. In the east there are amazing works of art and marvelous architecture. In the west there are ear-catching songs and lively dances. Easterners enjoy long impassioned monologues. Westerners love a well performed play.
Both sides know war. They know how to hone a blade, don a suit of armor, saddle a warhorse, and excel in the shedding of blood. When an easterner sees the dust billowing in the distance they fear another attack. When a westerner hears their dogs baying in the yard they fear the same. Eighteen years of uneasy peace haven’t dulled this instinct.
Peace and war. Beauty and blood. Love and hate. Can one side ever truly, completely win? Is it any more foolish to try and destroy your enemy completely or to try and unite two vastly different groups of people?
In this conflict of ideas, in between the negotiations and restructuring, the world seems to spin around me more quickly than a top. Watching our Castle of the Heartland grow, seemingly as quickly as a storm on the horizon, makes my head hurt and my heart tight. Are we ready? Can this work?
But there is magic here, as powerful as anything the forest ever produced. When I see a dragon play with a dog. In the places where women and men train together as warriors. With two royal mothers bicker and then smile at each other. And in the face of a prince I love.
Time tends to freeze. In moments of tender affection, a squeeze on my shoulder, a hand in my hand. When my Rupert laughs freely at something I’ve said. Sharing a meal under the shade of a tree, recounting the events of our mornings. Feeling his heartbeat against my own as we embrace.
Time suddenly freezes. The clock becomes a blank face. Sun, moon and stars halt their progress. Everything that troubles me melts away. Our love is at moments fiery and passionate but most often it is constant and comforting.
“What are you thinking about?” Rupert asks as I realize with a jolt that I’ve been staring at him for untold minutes.
I open my mouth but how can I distill it all down in words? Can I just tell him everything I feel about him without making both of us cry? “I love you,” I say simply. Those three words aren’t nearly enough, but somehow Rupert seems to hear the multitude of thoughts behind them.
Rupert gazes back at me, our eyes locked on each other. For me, the world around us fades. The sunlight filtering through the branches of the trees that once were forbidden adds to the dreamlike quality of the moment.
Rupert is better with words, at times, than I am. He grabs my hand and holds it against his chest. I feel that familiar beating as he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. As we separate, he somehow finds his words, where I am speechless. “My heart belongs to you, from the moment we met through the moment you said you loved me. Whatever we have is because you love me.”
I shake my head. “Whatever we have is because you had the courage to give me your heart. You would have given up your life and all you wanted to say before you died was that you loved me. You had more courage in that moment than I had in my entire life.”
A groan behind us brings time back into motion. Lady Cecily laughs as we both snap our heads at Sir Joan. Neither of them look the least apologetic. “Uh, Joan, we were kinda having a moment?”
Joan remains unmoved. “Uh, Your Highnesses? We’re losing daylight if you want to make it back to the castle tonight.”
Lady Cecily’s snickers cease long enough for her to add, “Yeah, save it for when you get back to your rooms!”
I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around Rupert until I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. Rupert’s lips are on mine in a flash and we both pointedly ignore the women’s groans. Time can wait.
I’m probably taking the notes on my Beauty and the Beast AU and turning that into an original fic but because I love the idea of Beast!Rupert and Beauty!Amir, have a little something.
“I don’t want any favors from him! He’d have left my mother to rot in that tower.” His voice echoed in the large room the Beast left him in. It was easily the size of his mother’s cottage back on the edge of town. That thought only reminded him of home and of the hopelessness of his situation.
He’d come to find his mother. She’d gone to the city to try and salvage the last of his father’s assets but hadn’t returned. Her horse was back before nightfall, not enough time for her to have made it far. The only thing in the area was an old ruin that no villager dared come near.
That ruined facade was an illusion. A blatant bit of magic once the daring young man crossed into the courtyard. Although the castle it hid was somehow more frightening than the facade was. Gargoyles and gray stone, forbidding and foreboding, this place itself would refuse visitors.
After that it was the sound of his mother weeping that carried on the wind and lead him to her. On sight, she ordered him to leave but he hadn’t listened. The Beast arrived then and, unarmed and unprepared, Amir had done the only thing he could. He exchanged his life for his mother’s. She’d begged and cried but the deal was done and before Amir could hold her and say goodbye, she was gone.
Upon the Beast’s assurance she would be physically fine, Amir moved to enter her cell. Crossing through the door had only lead him to this room. Very much not a cell. Lavishly furnished, although the furniture was of an older antique style. Amir admired the canopy bed large enough to swim in the silk sheets. But the frightful appearance of the Beast, the magic of this place and the temporary reunion with his mother took its toll.
In his grief, he heard a scratching. And there upon the desk a quill pen wrote out words of encouragement. Astonished, Amir made to write back, but the pen assured him it had ears, but no voice. An unseen and unseeable servant spoke with him in ink.
[Our circumstances are quite severe, Master Amir. My Prince is under a dreadful curse. Inflicted while he was young and uncaring.]
“So that gives him right to inflict himself upon others?” Amir asked. “And why call him your prince? The king and queen have many sons but none of them beasts!”
The pen swirled and swished as if in an agitated hand. Finally, it responded. [On the subject of inflicting, I fear you are correct. It is early yet, please trust that my Prince’s heart will soften. And on the subject of My Prince, he is the King’s youngest son, sent away here as a child to avoid the war.]
“The war ended five years ago! Would the king and queen forget their own son?” Amir asked, incredulous.
[I fear that too is also a consequence of this curse. Our suppliers, our local contacts, none have even so much as approached this castle. It is as though we have been forgotten. On a personal note, I fear my husband has forgotten me, back in the royal city.]
“I’m. I’m sorry for you, Quill Pen. Do you have a name? Calling you a quill pen seems a bit impersonal.”
[Quill suits me fine. I wasn’t fond of my old name anyway. And my Prince has never used any name for me but servant anyway.]
“Shouldn’t there be more than you? Other servants? Even a youngest born prince would have a castle full.”
[They are all here. They may only interact with objects related to their station. I wrote many things for the upkeep of this castle. Inventories, invitations, orders and receipts and more. Thus I can hold pen and paper. We have only one other ability and that is to instantly be anywhere we are needed to be.]
“Then one of you took my mother away before I could say goodbye? And then another brought me here?”
[I am sorry. You should have had time to say goodbye. I think it likely the servant who took her was most interested to see how far from the castle they could get by following an order to take someone away. I once made it past the main gate and across the drawbridge before I found myself suddenly in the kitchens.]
“Well, we’re both trapped now. Your prince could likely order a servant to retrieve me even if I tried to escape.”
A knock on the door echoed in the large room. Amir took a breath and looked back at Quill. The pen pointed at the door. Amir sighed and looked back at the door. “Why bother with courtesy? This whole place and everyone in it is yours to serve at your will.”
A pause. The door cracked a bit. Amir flinched at the eyes that reflected a bit of the light from inside the room, like a cat’s eyes. “Please, forgive me, I have treated you unkindly.”
“You are a great Beast. Why play at being a timid thing now?”
The Beast let out a low rumble that could have either been a growl or a sigh. “Please don’t call me a Beast.”
Amir stood and stamped his foot. “That’s what you are though! A beast who took my mother away, imprisoned her here and then made me trade my life for hers to release her!”
“I would have let her go at just your request. You brought up the trade.”
“I thought it sure you meant to kill her, having her there locked in a cell!”
“I had to be sure that someone would come for her. My servants can’t be everywhere and she nearly escaped three times in one day. She is very clever, your mother.”
“She’s the cleverest and the best and I’m a fool. Can I simply ask to leave then? Would you let me go if I asked?”
“I-I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“No, ask my servant. That pen there.”
“Quill. She...he...?” Amir stopped in his thought. Turning to Quill, Amir asked, “Actually, Quill what are you? Or were you? Man or woman?”
[I forget. Use “they” instead of He or She]
“You forget?” The pen simply swirled the feather about.
“Servant, tell him I can’t let him go.”
“Their name is Quill and don’t just order them around like that!”
“But it’s my servant...”
“They’re!”
“Where?”
“No, not there. ‘They’re’ as in ‘they are!’”
“Who is?”
“Quill is!”
“Quill is what?”
“Quill might be your servant but you should refer to them by a proper name and you shouldn’t order them around like that!”
[Please! Don’t go to all this trouble arguing for me!]
“Quill, please tell him why I can’t let him go.”
“See was that so hard?” Amir asked. The Beast huffed and folded his arms over his chest.
[Unfortunately, if you pledged your life to My Prince, the curse won’t let you leave. That’s why all the servants are stuck here. We swore to serve the prince.]
“Will I disappear? Turn into some ghost who can only push a broom around?”
[I don’t know, actually.]
“You agreed to this deal, too. You knew it could mean I was stuck here and you let it happen! Just when I thought you couldn’t be more contemptible! You tricked me, beast!”
“Please call me Your Highness. If you can call my servant Quill, you can call me something nice too.”
“How about I call you Fluffy?”
“I had a cat named that once.”
“What happened? Did you eat it?”
“I’m not a monster! I just...I just look like one. You-you’re being mean to me. I came to say sorry! It all happened so fast I wasn’t thinking. I was just so lonely and-and I thought if you wanted to stay here then we could b-be friends...”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Beast. I’ll think about your apology.”
“Please, just one thing.”
“What, Your Beastness?”
“May I have the honor of knowing your name?”
“Is this more trickery? The stories all say the faeries can do all sort of horrible things to you once they know your name.”
“Fine then you may lie to me. If I must call a floating feather ‘Quill’ then I must have something to call you.”
“Did you ask my mother what her name was? Did her life mean anything to you or was she just bait to you?”
“She wouldn’t tell me her name either. I stopped trying to talk to her. She yelled at me a lot.”
“No less than you deserved. Call me anything.”
“Then I will call you Fitzroy.”
“Fitzroy? I thought your cats name was Fluffy.”
“It was. Fitzroy was my dog.”
“So now I’m a dog to you? Should I scurry on all fours and beg you?”
“N-no! I-I didn’t mean it like that! It was just the first name I thought of, I swear! How about Fitz?”
“You just gave me a name and now you want to shorten it?”
“Can I do nothing right? I said I was sorry!”
“And I said I would think about it, Beast!”
“Rupert!”
“I thought my name was Fitz, now you want to call me Rupert?”
“No! My name is Rupert! Prince Rupert, the First.”
“Shouldn’t it be the Last if you were the youngest?”
“You would complain about anything! There is no pleasing you. I’m really sorry! Doesn’t that mean anything anymore? I never used to say it and now I’ve said it more than in any other conversation.”
“Good for you! I guess when you’re a pampered prince it wouldn’t occur to you to even feel sorry. Now can you stop trying to please me and say sorry to me and just leave me be?”
“Fine! But no dinner for you! And I had the cook make my favorites and all the best desserts he could! But I won’t share my table with someone who calls me mean names!”
“Fine by me!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
“Fine.”
Amir ignored the watery eyes the Beast Prince Rupert gave him before he turned and left Amir’s room. His eyes caught on Quill, the pen laying down on the desk by the bed.
“Are you staying here all night?” The pen made no move. Amir poked at it, but it fell off the desk. Hurriedly, he picked up the implement and checked over the feather to make sure it hadn’t broken. “Oh, you’re not here. Okay. Okay now I’m talking to a pen. Okay now shut up, Amir. Oh great, now I’m talking to myself.” Amir gently set the pen down and flung himself on the bed. As he thought of his mother, his tears returned and he wept bitterly.
Across the castle, Rupert slammed his beastly claw into a battered table. This latest act of violence proved to be the table’s downfall. It gave way in pieces. Rupert howled, his anger burning as brightly as the pain in his claw. He slumped against the wall and then slid to the floor. His tears were a familiar weight on his fur covered face.
Cecily returns to the castle with a puppy but she can’t help but feel the way back home is easier than before.
Cecily and Granola headcanon still based on the posts by @rumir-has-it and @andyouknowwhat-youloveit
Venturing into the Forest alone was dangerous for anyone, even without villainous vegetation and sentient spiders. Criminals were still running loose, from both kingdoms. The terrain also could prove deadly for the unwary. For every flower laden field there were treacherous ravines and shale covered hills where footing became tricky. Cecily knee much of the forest by now, having explored countless times with and without Sir Joan.
This solo trip was a return from the cabin she shared with Sir Joan near the waterfall. She wasn’t alone; she had her horse Atalanta and now a fluffy puppy she called Granola. “Alright, ladies, now we’re all going to work together.”
It had taken a bit of convincing for Atalanta to accept Granola. The middle aged horse could be quite set in her ways. An unfamiliar sight and scent made the stocky equine uneasy. For her part, Granola was cautiously curious about the large, hard-hoofed creature. She tended to sniff at Atalanta from a respectful distance. Cecily made a sling to carry the pup and hoisted them both atop her mount.
“Everyone comfortable? Okay, let’s head to the castle!” Cecily said, gently steering Atalanta into a brisk trot.
Cecily zoned out, idly scratching at Granola’s ear or gently turning Atalanta toward the path and away from the stream she seemed intent on jumping into. It took a few moments for her to realize that they should have been away from the stream for quite some time.
Checking her position, Cecily concluded they were heading the right way. Perhaps something diverted the stream and changed its flow, Cecily thought. She and Joan would have to map out its new course.
A few moments later, she spotted berry bushes along the path. They seemed nice and ripe, but their appearance triggered Cecily’s suspicion. She didn’t recall any berry bushes along the path between the cabin and the castle. She ignored the fresh scent of blackberries and got Atalanta to move more quickly.
Now away from the bushes, Cecily spotted red fruit at about eye level. She stopped Atalanta and stared. There definitely hadn’t been apple trees in the forest anywhere near here before. Pulling out her map and a compass, Cecily oriented herself again. Given the position of the mountain in the distance, she knew she had to be going the right way. Folding the map up, she shrugged. “Maybe I found a new path? One that just so happens to be going the same way...”
Granola nosed against her chin and licked her neck. Laughing, Cecily patted the pup and got Atalanta going again. The apple trees hung right over the path now, practically insisting on handing their fruits to Cecily. Her continued refusal only seemed to make the next branch more insistent until she was dodging red, fragrant fruit. When one finally hit her in the face she gave in and plucked it. Her acquiescence seemed to satisfy the trees and finally her view was unimpeded by apple branches.
Taking out her knife, she set about peeling and citing her gift. In the back of her mind, her rational thought made the argument that it could all be coincidence. That the trees only seemed to be more insistent. That they only seemed to be satisfied after she accepted an apple. Just because a Forest was enchanted once didn’t mean...
A low growl caught Cecily’s attention. Granola barked and squirmed in her sling. Atalanta stopped unbidden. Looking up, Cecily slowly reached for her bow. On the path ahead, a bear lumbered. It didn’t seem to notice them, and Cecily spared a moment to quiet Granola to stop her from getting the bear’s attention. Which was when the bear’s two cubs tumbled out from behind their mother. Cecily stowed the bow and glanced around for a way to give mamma bear and her cubs a wider berth.
A deer trail seem to appear as if from thin air. Cecily steered Atalanta down the narrower path. Sure footed as any deer, Atalanta slipped down the way quietly. Out of sight of the bear and her cubs, Cecily sighed in relief. It would have killed her to have to hurt a bear with cubs. But mamma bear also would have literally killed her if she’d even come close enough.
Just as she wondered if she’d have to cut across the underbrush, the trail rejoined the path later on past the bears. She heard a bear’s roar behind her, but that was all. Cecily shook her head and let go of the tension in her neck and shoulders. Mamma bear was probably just giving a cub a lecture.
In no time, she came to the edge of the woods. There was still plenty of sunshine and Cecily turned back to look at the forest. She’d taken the trip countless times and had never made such a short trip of it. Turning back around she got Atalanta going again. The horse could see home and Cecily hardly needed to encourage her more than that.
An eerie feeling made the back of her neck tingle and Cecily turned around again. When she looked, she couldn’t see the trail she’d just taken. Turning forward once more, she rubbed Granola’s head and muttered to herself, “I’ve really got to stop taking solo trips.”
