Concordia discors

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Ah, fandom: that freely chosen, non-commercial pleasure dome of hobbydom, which for some reason attracts a fair number of people who are blind with anger whenever anyone disagrees with them.

Take Warr1or, for instance. Far from feeling transported with delight that an escape such as Sanguinity exists, much less gratified that anybody takes the time to read his opinions, he demands full agreement with every utterance. I’ve seen him fly into a state of absolute spittle-flicking rage over quite minor divergence from his Holy Writ expressed ideas.

He’s not, as far as one can tell, a stupid man. If he left behind the persecution complex and embraced the concept of ‘anger management,’ perhaps he’d find more time to focus on his fanfiction. I doubt he’d ever be counted amongst the BNFs, but MNFdom could quite possibly be within his reach, if only the restraining orders don’t pile too high in the interim.





Title: The Dreams of Angels
Chapter: Introduction
Author: Warr1or
Pairing: PrincessB/Jab. Sammich forever!
Dedication: For all my fellow sammiches: may the purity of PB/J illuminate your own lives.

Jab Ackerman, rough-woven shirt open to reveal a broad, muscular chest, stepped inside the cool shade of the castle of the de St. Aubyns. His honest, brown eyes took in the high-ceilinged hall as his boots carried him silently across the threshold. He had been reluctant to come here. He instinctively mistrusted the elite, who were so often led astray by their own wealth and power. The people of Little Edmead, the village nearest Jab's own farm, were steeped in simple gratitude for the sacrifices the Royal family had made. Jab wondered, sometimes, if his own more suspicious stance was warranted. This family had done nothing to earn his mistrust. None of their women were noted for callously heartless, wonton wanton behavior. And yet he knew full well, at a fundamental level, that the de St. Aubyns did not deserve the glowing praise bestowed upon them. Jab had too much common sense not to see the obvious. They had acted from self-interest.

No, he had not wanted to come here. But in this instance, the strong, unbreakable bonds of pure manly friendship took priority. He glanced affectionately at Pierce de St. Aubyn, his loyal and most trusted friend. Jab did not love easily, nor blindly. He was aware of Pierce's weaknesses--more fully aware, in truth, than Pierce was himself. Jab, though, saw with clear-eyed certainty the strengths to which Pierce could rise. His privileged background had not tested him, but Jab pitied more than blamed him for that.

Now, he saw, Pierce's silk shirt clung to his sweat-drenched frame. They had put in a day's hard riding to reach the castle, under a pitiless sun, but Jab had insisted on riding hard, pushing themselves forward. No roadside inn was safe in these perilous times, and the open road was worse. Wordlessly, Jab lifted the strap of his leather flask over his head and strode to Pierce's side, proferring a gift of cool water to ease his friend's suffering.

Pierce drank deeply. Water trickled from the corners of his mouth when he laughed and handed back the flask. 'There are a hundred servants here,' he teased, 'any one of whom could have brought me colder water than that. You've been carrying it all day.'

'Colder, maybe, but not sweeter,' said Jab. 'That water is from my own well.'

Above them, the Princess Beta, affectionately known to her friends and family as PrincessB, knelt at her prayers. The slanting rays of the evening sun touched her hair, which shone golden in the warm light. Her rooms, unlike the rest of the castle, were simple and uncluttered. Her bedchamber had an almost monastic lack of decoration. Hers was a sweet, simple, devout nature, which scorned display in favor of daydreams. She was barely in her teens, and had never been in love or known a man's kiss. She was yet too young to understand the implications of her title, and she shrank from the politics and intrigues of the court. For as long as she could she intended to linger in the safety her childhood afforded her.

Although she was very young, and surrounded by the dissolute upper class, PrincessB's dreams brought her promises of a better life. Her beautiful nature had not been stained or corrupted by her upbringing. She had always valued intangible things such as friendship, love, and spirituality. She couldn't explain how she knew that these were worth more than all her family's wealth. But she did know, and she clung fiercely to that knowledge. Her dreams spoke truths that rang out above the falsehoods that adults so often mouthed.

She longed, above all, for someone who might understand. Now that she, reluctantly, was growing up, her dreams had deepened to include an ideal man, heroic and noble. She imagined he would value her for her mind, heart, and soul, not just for her body. Theirs would be a friendship of shared, innocent pleasures. He would share her love of books and music, and, like her, would treasure simplicity and purity. He, too, would love to walk, scorning modern bicycles. In the evenings, she fondly imagined, they would sit before a simple fire and share slices of buttered toast. The young princess sighed. Her older cousin Pierce had done his best to be a companion to her, but now that she was growing in instinctive, womanly wisdom, she knew that she needed a true soulmate and equal. She lifted her face, bathed in the fading sunlight, and wondered if it was selfish to pray that such a man existed.

Meanwhile, her handsome cousin Pierce was manfully hugging his best friend in uncomplicated gratitude. He couldn't help but admire and envy Jab's rock-hard, muscular body, unaware that Jab's physical strength was but a pale reflection of the moral fortitude beneath the flesh. Jab, Pierce realized, would be the ideal protector for the innocent PrincessB.

'You may doubt our water's sweetness,' Pierce said lightly, stepping back from the warmth of Jab's body, 'but I promise you this castle contains one treasure worthy to stand up even to your judgment.' His bantering tone could not conceal his worry. 'These are dark times,' he went on, 'and I fear what will become of the young princess should anything happen to me. Beta is an innocent, and this world does not deal fairly with innocence.'

Steady brown eyes met and held anxious blue ones. 'If she is of value to you, then I will protect her,' Jab said calmly. His voice was resonant with firm purpose.


The Dreams of Angels: Chapter One