☆ Round Two!

[jsmn_kink]

Welcome to the second round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at jsmn_kinkmeme!

Below are some basic guidelines, but please make sure you also check out our complete Rules & Guidelines.

Guidelines:
■ Anonymously comment with your request – a character/pairing/nthsome, and a kink or prompt.
■ Only one prompt per post.
■ Fillers please link your fills in the Fills Post!
■ Have fun! :)

Keep in mind:
■ Any kinks welcomed!
■ The fill/request does not need to be sexual or porny.
■ Multiple fills are allowed.
■ Fills can be any sort of creative work: fic, art, song, photomanip, etc.
■ Beware of spoilers! Prompters and requesters are encouraged to warn for spoilers, but this rule is not enforced.
■ Warning for non-con, dub-con, abuse, slurs/language, and other potentially disturbing subjects is encouraged but be aware we do not enforce this.
■ Would fillers please make sure when posting a fill in multiple parts that they thread their comments by replying to previous parts.

Links:
☆ Mod Post
☆ Fills Post
☆ Discussion Post
☆ Misfire deletion requests
☆ Previous Rounds: Round One

Comments

Fill: New Hope; Stephen/Lost Hope

[(Anonymous)]

The Gentleman's final screams rang through the dark ballroom, an echo that seemed like it would never end, would only haunt the halls of this Lost Hope for all eternity. But slowly it faded, dropping away and leaving Stephen alone in the quiet that, in its own right, echoed just as much. He stood before the tree as its roots finished settling back into their home, staring down at the grave he had filled so easily. He still felt the magic coursing through him, the anger rising up in him and pushing him forward. He pulled in a deep, unsteady breath and stepped back, lifting his head and looking around at the empty room - where had all the dancers gone? He was rather glad not to see them, their faces haunted his dreams for so long before he didn't want to have to live with them for the rest of his...unnatural life. Still, the house itself had not changed. The hall was vast, yes, but dim and cold. The walls were covered in ivy and moss that creeped in from cracks in the walls.

Stephen strode across to the wall and settled his hand against it, feeling the cold and the damp down to his bones. "You poor thing," he whispered to the house, the house that he could feel beyond this room. The house who's halls he had walked so many nights without understanding but that now spoke to him, called to him, tugged at his power and begged him to set it to rights. He took a deep breath and focused, listening to the House's pleas, pushing power through his palm into the wall. He could feel it warming beneath his touch, drying out. When he opened his eyes he saw that the moss and the ivy had retreated, clearing the wall and the window. He smiled at his handiwork and stepped back, hands on his hips, to admire what he'd accomplished.

But when he turned around and saw that the other walls remained overgrown and broken, his heart sank. Between this room, all of the halls, the other rooms, the exterior...if he had to go wall by wall, he would exhaust himself. Not only that, but the tedium. He wasn't sure he could stand that. He blew out a breath and turned back around, only to find that the wall he had righted was back to its previous state. "Damn and blast," he whispered, the curse slipping out of him with surprisingly little difficulty. He had been so proper all his life. He had to be, it was for his safety and job security, but now. Now he was the master and being proper was a decision he could make, a choice, not a mantle he was forced to wear.

He wondered for a brief moment if he should start somewhere else, but this room, this was the heart of the Gentleman's decadence and corruption. This was where he had to start if he wanted to restore this house. But how? He stepped up to the wall again, settling both hands against the stone. It was cold and damp again and again it seeped into him. Again he pushed back with his magic, listening to the house as it told him where to send his power. Deep into the heart of the wall, where it could spread and push back out, reclaiming itself. Renewing itself. When he felt the stone properly beneath his hands, he kept them there, kept pushing waves of magic into the house, into the room itself. He closed his eyes, feeling the drain on himself but fighting against it. Just a little longer, he was certain. Just a little more.

With a gasp, he pulled back, falling to his knees. His body shook, his head was light. He tried to stand and stumbled into the wall, using it to lower himself to the ground. His eyes were still closed and he felt like he could sleep for a hundred years. A thousand years. More. But then he heard the bell. It was a different bell than the one that had summoned himself and Lady Pole to their nightly purgatory. That bell had been forlorn yet insistent. This bell, this chime, this was...cheerful.

Stephen opened his eyes and looked around in awe at the fully restored room. Hope no longer looked lost and, judging by the ringing of the chime, it no longer felt lost either. Stephen allowed himself a few more moments to pull himself together before pushing to his feet and rushing through the vast structure. The hallways were no longer a maze to him, and he soon found his way outside. Faery was an odd place, he saw, as he stood before Hope's front door, but he had little thought for where the house was just then. He was more concerned with... He rushed into the garden - full of exotic plants Stephen had never seen before - and whirled around to look up for the first time at the facade of Lost Hope.

Except.

Except it wasn't Lost. It was. It was magnificent. The whole building looked new, freshly built. He had seen the affects of his magic in the halls as he'd hurried out, but standing here, looking at the exterior, staring up at this fresh new manor...His heart swelled. He had done this. He had reached out and he had touched Lost Hope and had, with his own power, he had made it...the chime sounded again and he jumped, looking around for the source, looking up. The sky was dark, no moon. A new moon? If Faery had such a thing, perhaps.

Perhaps.

Perhaps. "New Hope," Stephen said, his voice awed.

The chime sounded - the house's thanks? - and the door swung on its hinges, inviting Stephen back inside, as if saying there was so much more for him to see. More for him to do. He stepped up into the house, gentle hands on the door frame, gentle hands closing the door. This house was his now and, it seemed, he was the house's. It was not a position he could find fault with, and as he walked slowly through the halls, he ran gentle fingers along the walls, smiling to himself as he set off to get to know New Hope.

Re: Fill: New Hope; Stephen/Lost Hope (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

The house woke him one night. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, slowly piecing the place back together. It was only him there, and time in Faery was strange enough when one's only companion wasn't a house. He had finished the details at the front of the house - restoring wallpaper the house seemed to like, choosing new wallpaper for what the house didn't like - brief excursions out of Faery did not help his sense of time - and he had been slowly getting rid of the trinkets that the Gentleman had collected over the many years he had ruled there. It was hard for Stephen. He wanted to give the pieces back to their proper owners, but with the only witness being the House it was sometimes difficult to ascertain who exactly those people were or where they were from. Some things had names on them, some had an energy he could follow, but most were not that clear and there were many that had belonged to people who were long dead and buried. Stephen did his best, but was frequently disheartened when he could not find a home for the pieces. The house tried to cheer him some. He would come home to a roaring fire and a nice meal. He always wondered who prepared these, as the house could not do that itself, and tonight he found out.

He was roused from his slumber by a soft chime and the crackle of a fire. Someone had come in and not only cleaned his fireplace but also started a fire in it. The warm glow reached him as he sat up in bed, making him drowse, but he shook it off and slipped out of bed. His body protested the cold once out from under the covers - he had taken to sleeping naked recently, because he and the house had no secrets from one another. Or so he'd thought. He listened hard, standing by his bed, and heard another chime. These were not the chimes he was used to, the ones the house used when trying to communicate with him, these seemed muffled. Like he wasn't meant to hear them at all.

He pulled a robe on and walked slowly out of his room, peering into the hall just in time to see a shadow flit around the corner at the stairs. He hurried forward and turned, stopping at the top of the stairs and staring down at one of the dancers he remembered from when the house was Lost Hope. He froze, looking down at this man, wide eyes staring back at Stephen. "Please," the man said. His voice was hoarse and quiet but it carried easily up to Stephen.

"Please what?" Stephen asked. The force of his voice sent the man back a step.

"Please," another voice came from the hall to Stephen's left. He turned and looked at another of the dancers, one of the women this time. "Please," she said, "we miss the dancing."

More voices rose up, filling the front hall and spiraling up the stairs to Stephen, shaking him where he stood.

"We only wanted to help."

"We thought if the House were restored you would let us back."

"We miss the dancing."

"We are lost without the dancing."

"Enough!" Stephen said, his magic making his voice boom out. The other voices faded away. "Were you his creations?" he asked, looking from the woman to the man, wondering which would speak for them.

"We were his family," the woman said.

"He let us dance. He brought us friends and let us dance," the man said.

"He was a decadent scoundrel," Stephen said.

"We only want to dance," the woman pleaded, stepping forward. Stephen fixed her with a glare and she froze for a moment before stepping back again, head bowing. Still, she whispered once more, "We only want to dance."

"Is there nowhere else you can go?" Stephen asked.

The man shook his head. "We are tied to this place," he said. "The magic he used is ingrained into its stones. Its wood. Every room. It holds us here. We thought if we helped you you would let us be, let us dance."

The Elves and the Shoemaker, Stephen thought. Or, in this case, Faeries and a Faery King.

"I do not need your help," Stephen said, shuddering at the memories of the dancing, of living a half life that was quickly turning into no life at all. Shuddered at the thought of Emma Pole and her fight to prove herself, to prove that she was not mad but cursed. That they were not mad but cursed. Shuddering at his own silence, at his own failures because of what the Gentleman had done to them. "I do not want you."

"Please!" The voices rose up at once. The man began to lead a pack up the stairs, the woman started to advance again.

Stephen roared and knelt down, pressing his hands against the floor. He closed his eyes and called his magic, feeling in the house for any power that wasn't his. He felt hands on his shoulders, in his hair, pulling at his robe, as he hunted through the house for the Gentleman's magic. Ah. There. He found it and he pushed at it, pulled at it, tugged and scraped. But it would not budge. He gasped, pulling out of the house and looking up at the people surrounding him. They froze and stared back.

Slowly, Stephen stood and looked around at the subjects he was forced to accept. "You may dance," he said. He raised a hand when the cheering began and it quieted immediately. "But I must not hear it," he said. "And you must earn your keep. And only until I can find a way to free you from these halls."

Heads nodded, hands reached out for him, but Stephen turned away and walked slowly back to his room.

He shed his robe and sank down on the bed, staring at the fire. Was this how it started? Would he, too, give in to the decadence of the Gentleman. Would he begin to dance and lose himself in the draw of it, begin searching for new partners, bringing more souls to get lost in this place? The chime rang and Stephen reached out to touch the wall behind the bed, stroking a hand slowly down the smooth wood, reassuring himself.

The house was different now. His now. He would free those poor lost souls as he had freed his poor Lost Hope.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, drifting back to a peaceful sleep.

Re: Fill: New Hope; Stephen/Lost Hope (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

I'm not the OP, and I'm not sure if this is the last part, but what a great way to end this beautiful piece! You write beautifully and the pace was a joy to read, I got really swallowed up in this fill.

This is now my headcanon for what happens to Stephen immediately after The Gentleman's death. The house is such a sweet companion for him, and it's good to know he has something to look after, a responsibility of his own. You really made the house come alive with the descriptions of the bells, the doors opening for him, the house desperately trying to help him find homes for the Gentleman's stolen loot. The gardens too, something I've never thought about. I especially liked the part about Stephen sleeping naked, it really brought it home that he no longer felt any shame, and that he was completely happy in the company of the house.

I'm glad he tried to free the dancers, and I have every faith in him that he will. I also liked that he told them they'd have to earn their keep. He is a master now, and he knows how to talk to servants/guests in a way that is both respectful and commanding.

Wonderful writing - thank you for sharing with us!

Re: Fill: New Hope; Stephen/Lost Hope (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

thank you!

I'm not sure yet if it's done...we'll see. My brain keeps coming up with more thoughts and ideas.

I'm so glad you like it! I have a...thing for sentient places, so when I saw this prompt I just. I had to have Stephen and the House getting to know one another and growing closer and working together, it was just too perfect.

Re: Fill: New Hope; Stephen/Lost Hope (Part 2)

[(Anonymous)]

This is lovely. :)

I love the idea of sentient houses, and it's fascinating to see how Stephen is doing, post-book.