Author's Note: Features romantic!Dirk/Jake with a healthy side of pale!Aradia/Jake. This is borderline pale pornography here, and may possibly contain actual pornography (not sure yet). This is so self-indulgent. THE most self-indulgent fanfic I have ever written. And it's so long-winded. The word count is... over 9000. ;) I have no excuse for it. I hope you enjoy it, anyways, haha! XD

Disclaimer: Much like the fairytales of old,
Here is merely a story told.
Homestuck is Hussie's property,
It clearly does not belong to me.

Long, long ago, in a far away land, there was a poor shepherd boy who lived in a small but busy village, not far from the home of a Duke. This boy had not always been a peasant, for he was once the son of a Lord, until his mother died of illness and his father perished in war. The noble grandmother who had taken him in afterwards was also, most unfortunately, dead; her title had been usurped and all her wealth, too. The boy soon found himself relocated to the new Countess's feudal master's estate as but a common shepherd, where nobody recognized the noble name of Jake English.

However, it was clear to anyone who looked at him closely enough that Jake was no ordinary peasant. The fact that he'd been born into the life of a fine courtesan was clear, once somebody noticed his small hands, not quite as roughened with work as some of the other boys', or perhaps his vertically challenged stature and almost-effeminate figure. He spoke with a vocabulary so strange and unheard of, very few could hold conversation with him for the slang; he utterly lacked the village folks' good, common sense; he had no practical skills, other than his ability to shoot a bow and arrow with deadly accuracy (a family secret, learned from his grandmother). His eyes, however, made his lineage a dead giveaway: they were the exact shade of emeralds, brilliantly bright and veritably royal.

But nobody quite paid enough attention to this shepherd boy to notice that he really must have been the son of a Lord, and so each day he went about his work, leading his sheep from where he lived just north of town, down to where the greenest and sweetest pastures were, just south of town.

Jake's dream, however, was not at all the way he lived his life. Indeed, it was frequently he took mental reprieve from reality to travel the world from within his head, dreaming in the fields as he waited for his sheep to take their fill. Having never seen even a single penny of his inheritance, Jake was most unfortunately far too poor to adventure as he wished. He was, effectively, stuck in the town that was his home.

Now, impoverished though he was, Jake rarely ever went hungry, thanks to some gifts from the heir to the fairy throne, the good Prince John. Once upon a time, Jake had been apprenticed to a well-known knight with whom John was good friends, up until his parents' deaths. Both were fond of him, and so gifted him a pitcher, a quiver, and an ivy wreath when he ceased being this knight's page upon his return home to mourn his parents. These three items were magical.

The pitcher was enchanted to be bottomless, and to contain whichever non-alcoholic beverage its owner ordered from it. The beverages were non-alcoholic in particular, because John did not approve of youthful intoxication by liquor. Jake even made a game of it, by asking for a surprise drink every so often. Sometime he was given plain drinks, like water or simple cider. At other times, he got strange, exotic juices or even peculiarly fizzy, extremely sweet drinks which, for simplicity's sake when ordering, he referred to as "pop".

The quiver, too, had an enchantment to always be full of arrows, each honed to perfect sharpness. Paired with his grandmother's supple, lightweight archery bow, Jake would only have to think that he wanted meat, and travel to the woods south of the pasture, which was owned by no-one. In those woods, there was a wolf with fur of pure white, and Jake made it a habit to deter it from eating his sheep by feeding it little treats, like rabbits and cuts of deer. He was friendly with this wolf, which he called "Halley", and considered him the closest thing he had to a family. Why, indeed, Jake even took to calling himself "Jake Halley" after his good wolf/best friend... though, thanks to a speech impediment, it sounded much more like "Harley".

Without those two gifts, Jake would have probably died years ago. He was not a very bright boy, and would have otherwise had no idea how to obtain the items his pitcher and quiver provided.

The ivy wreath, probably the least useful of his gifts, was enchanted to stay forever green, as long as no leaves were lost. Jake hadn't the foggiest idea what else to use it for, so he usually just wore it. Secretly, though he didn't know it, the wreath actually contained a good-luck charm, one that would aid in creating convenient coincidences and such for its wearer.

It was one such coincidence that, one evening when Jake was herding his sheep back home, he heard the town crier hollering in the half-lit streets:
"Hear ye, hear ye,
A prince there be!
In the morn he'll arrive
In search of a bride
To carry away 'cross the sea!"

Jake's curiosity was deeply piqued by the announcement, for this town was usually very boring and princes did not visit every day. With great vigor, he inquired, "I say, good chap, what's this about a prince?"

The town crier replied,
"From a far-away Germanic land,
Comes this famously valiant man
Three contests he'll make
To choose which bride he'll take
Then in marriage, he'll claim her hand."

"Golly, thanks for the explanation!" Jake exclaimed. "A prince! Coming here, of all places, to find a bride! How terribly exciting, don't you agree? Why, and all the way from the Germanys, too, so I daresay such a fellow must be well-traveled indeed! I do hope he tells us regular townsfolk all the news from lands afar. It's a terribly romantic idea for some lucky lady to be swept off her feet by a prince who I'm certain is quite dashing! Why, I myself would gladly allow myself to be wed and taken away if it meant traveling even half as far as the Germanys! What do you think about it, my compatriot?"

Jake suddenly realized he was speaking to naught but empty air. In his relatively long-winded monologue, the town crier had fled.

"Oh, not again!" Jake sighed to himself frowning deeply. This always happened, every time he opened his gosh consarned mouth. "Drat!"

With the town crier's news on his mind, Jake continued to herd his sheep back to his abode, a small barn on the very outskirts of town. All the way there, he thought about how adventurous that prince must be, traveling so far from home in search of a wife. How romantic the notion was, to marry a prince and travel all the world with him! It was half-tempting to give it a try himself, but Jake knew that was impossible- he was no maiden, after all.

The next morning, Jake rose with the sun and led his sheep back into town on his usual route, but he was blocked by a terribly huge crowd right near the local Baron's manor. Gathering his sheep extra close so he wouldn't lose any of them, Jake craned his neck to see what all the fuss was about. He was just about to give up when a horse trotted up on top of the stage for announcements, lifting its rider into Jake's line of vision.

He was tall, Jake could tell that much, though he wasn't quite sure how much taller this stranger was in comparison to himself. The man's hair was just the color of spun gold, and his features both sharp and elegant, from what Jake could see of them- the stranger's eyes were hidden by a peculiar visor that seemed to be shaped into a triangularish form from stained glass. His crown said he was royalty, but his plate armor said he was a warrior as well, the breastplate embossed in maroon stone forming a heart-shaped symbol that must have been his country's emblem.

Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. He was stricken by love at first sight.

The prince rubbed at his eye underneath the strangely shaped glass, and Jake felt a pang of pity for the guy. If he hadn't been here last night, and he was here this morning, the poor fellow probably spent most of the night traveling, which almost indubitably made him tired. Then, the prince cleared his throat, and all those who'd gathered quieted. Jake noticed there were a whole lot more people than usual, mostly ladies who'd traveled here from far and wide just for the chance to compete. Then, the prince began to speak, and all other thought flew straight out of Jake's head at the sound of that beautiful baritone.

"Salutations," said a voice with a drawling, subtle accent from a land so far, Jake didn't even know where to place it. "I am Prince Diedrick Schrittwer, hailing from the Kingdom Lotak. I have come to this land in search of a bride, and will be holding a series of contests over the next three days to find her."

Jake thought he heard a wistful sigh, and realized, to his abhorrence, that he'd been the one to make that sound. He quickly put the idea of entering these contests from his mind, knowing that there was no way Prince Diedrick could ever want to wed a chap like himself.

"I have devised three challenges that my future wife must be able to complete," the prince continued, his tiredness making him sound a bit sharp. "Be warned, for I have been halfway around the world and not even one girl has successfully passed all three. The first contest is in gentility, as well as, to some extent, elegance. I request that all hopeful competitors clothe themselves moderately nicely, and return to this place in the early evening with a pitcher of whatever drink you choose and a lit candle. I'll see you then."

The prince dismissed the crowd by trotting his horse off the stage and retreating to talk to the baron for a short while. Jake's eyes didn't leave him until he'd vanished into the manor, presumably to go get some sleep, watching broad shoulders and peculiarly cut hair from the back. Not until the heart-branded flank of his majestic white steed was completely out of sight did Jake return to leading his sheep out to the pasture.

On his way there, just as he passed outside the town's boundaries, Jake began to think- a dangerous avocation, indeed, for a fellow as unaccustomed to thinking as Jake was. The more he thought, the more his heart weighed heavy in his chest, and it eventually began to ache. He'd realized that, more apt than not, he would never see the prince who'd so captured his affection again after the contest was through and done with in this town. If he found a lass here and married her, still would he continue to travel, and perhaps he would return one or twice to allow his wife to see her relations. But if he found no wife, there would be no reason for him to return, and he would continue searching.

Jake would not have stood for to see his prince married to someone else- but alas! If Prince Diedrick found no bride in this county, he would find one in another. Jake was already horribly, horribly envious of such a person, and wished with all his might to become her. For the first time, he cursed his masculinity, and prayed to become a maiden so that he may have a chance to be with the man he so loved. By the time he reached the pasture, tears were dripping down his cheeks. He hadn't even the clothes of a maiden or more than a tiny nub of a candle to bring to the competition- what could he do but sit amid his sheep and weep?

It was hopeless. Jake's heart hurt so much, he thought he might die of it.

Now, it just so happened that there was a fairy passing through this particular field, one whose personality was marked by friendliness and optimism. Her special talent (the variety that all fairies have) was death, but she was no agent of the dark. She took it upon herself to comfort the bereaved, those left behind by tragedy, and often gave them support while in disguise and secret charms to help them along. Clad in bravehearted red, she was an adventurer, her work taking her far and wide. This fairy, whose name was Aradia, sensed Jake's intense grief, and immediately flew over to see its cause.

"Hark! My good shepherd," she exclaimed, flitting up to him on ruby-colored wings. "I couldn't help but hear your sobs, and my heart cries out for you. What ails you so?"

Jake knew that fairies looked upon all varieties of love kindly, and Aradia had asked him so sweetly and with such friendliness he couldn't help but reply, "I am very desperately in love with a prince, so that my heart must be tearing itself to shreds over him, for it hurts so much. But, he is holding a bunch of contests to choose a bride, and the first round is this very evening! By the end of it all, I've no doubt he will be married to someone else or he will travel elsewhere, and I shall never see him again!"

At this, Jake began to cry again, the true hopelessness of the situation hitting him now that he had actually said the words out loud, as if by saying it he had made them more concrete. Aradia took pity on the poor lad.

"Don't worry, friend! I have fairy-magic, and I'll give you any help I can," she offered generously. "I'm not as powerful or well-schooled as a royal fairy, or even a lord, but I think I can make you appear as a woman, and a beautiful one, too. What is the first feat you must accomplish for this contest?"

"I haven't the vaguest idea," Jake replied with heavy disappointment, rubbing tears from his face. "I daresay he was very cryptic about it. The test is for elegance and gentility. I'm not even certain I understand what that even means! I do know that I need a fairly nice dress and a pitcher and a lit candle. I own a pitcher, but I have neither the clothes nor more than the burnt end of a candle."

"Oh, that's easy!" Aradia exclaimed happily. "I can help you obtain both without much trouble. If you could give me the end of a candle, a sliver of soap, and the wool from your sheep, I can make you look as if you'd lived a lady all your days!"

"If your claims are true, I will be eternally grateful towards you, my good dame," Jake thanked her. "Surely there must be something I can do in return! I haven't much, but if there is anything I can do..."

"I don't need any thanks," Aradia smiled back cheerfully. "But you're welcome all the same! Actually, there is something I would like to request from you, but-"

"Anything," Jake cut her off insistently.

"Well," Aradia averted her eyes and shrugged a little. "On the condition that you actually win this contest you speak of, I'd kind of like to take over your job as shepherd. I love sheep!"

"Say no more, my good lady," Jake replied, much relieved. He'd feared it was something not in his power to give her. "It shall be done."

"Fantastic!" Aradia answered gladly, and then she took the soap and the candle nub Jake offered her.

As if she was reversing the change done to the items over time, with her magic, Aradia made the soap grow in size until it was as thick a lump as it had been the very day it was made. The candle, too, seemed to melt in reverse, the flame flickering up and continuing to unmelt until it was once more a full candlestick, very nearly four inches tall and as thick as Jake's wrist. He gawped at the impressive show of magic.

"Golly gee, that was some neat magic you did there!" Jake exclaimed in awe.

"Haha, don't mention it," said Aradia, handing him the soap. "Now, go bathe yourself in the stream over there, and make sure you scrub off all the dirt there is on your body. While you do that, I'll make cloth for your dress from the sheep's wool."

"Yes, ma'am," Jake verily agreed, before doing exactly as she bade. Once the dirt was all scrubbed away, Jake discovered that his skin was actually very soft and fairer than he'd thought it had been. Indeed, without the pervasive layer of filth that previously covered his flesh, Jake looked little like himself.

Once he returned, Aradia already had heaping piles of cloth waiting him, and though he knew that they were, in fact, the wool from his now-bald sheep, they were charmed to look and feel exactly like velvet, or silk, or Egyptian cotton, or any other cloth Jake could imagine.

"I made lots of cloth to dress you in," Aradia said, looking at Jake with a critical eye. "But I think you'd look especially good in a green dress! Maybe, if you gave me that wreath you are wearing for a couple minutes, I could use it to change the cloth's color!"

"Why, certainly!" Jake agreed, having no idea what was fashionable or not and going with Aradia's judgement.

He passed her the wreath, and she began to push an armful of velvet through the loop. However, unbeknownst to either of them, a single leaf caught in the folds of fabric and snapped off, the green of the ivy starting to fade slowly. Before it could affect the color of the cloth, the entire ream of velvet was green, just the perfect color to match Jake's stunning eyes.

Then, Aradia wrapped a sheet of white linen around Jake's body and made him a petticoat and chemise with her magic, using a trick she had developed with her friend, Kanaya, a fairy with particular talent for fashion. To be exact, one that fast-forwarded the cloth's temporal properties until it reached a point in its future where it became an article of clothing. She did this again with the velvet to form a full-skirted ballgown with sickle-shaped shoulder pads that lay over the tight-fitting, elbow-length shirt beneath it; immediately afterwards, she fabricated a pair of velvet-and-felt shoes. Finally, she outfitted him with a pair of short silk gloves. It was only a quick comb-down of Jake's hair before Aradia was finished.

"There we go!" she smiled at him, tucking a wayward lock behind his ear. "Look at yourself... you make a very pretty girl, indeed!"

Jake peered into the stream to see himself, and, surely enough, he appeared as a veritable lady, all signs of his masculinity hidden.

He grinned back, "Indubitably, ma'am! I do ever so hope the prince agrees with your assessment."

"Speaking of that, you should probably get to your contest!" Aradia exclaimed, lighting Jake's candle for him and waving him away. "Don't worry about your sheep; I'll take care of them for you!"

Jake did as she bade, hurrying away back into town, carrying his skirts to keep them out of the dirt and haphazardly balancing the pitcher in the folds of his dress. His other hand, of course, was occupied with the candle. He left the rest of his belongings with Aradia and his sheep; they would be safe there until after the contest.

Still, despite all his efforts, Jake arrived when the sun had already sunken halfway past the horizon. It was by no means "early" in the evening, but certainly, he couldn't be faulted for being slightly behind the clock. He didn't fancy watching all the prince's other suitors compete, anyhow, and this way, there was less of a crowd between he and the man he so desperately loved.

The onlookers did not take his tardiness quite so lightly, however. Being as beautiful and regal-looking as he was, Jake instantly caught the attentions of anyone else who happened to be in the city center that evening. His dress looked much, much finer than the ones worn by the local lasses and, indeed, gave the heiresses and ladies from further-away estates a run for their money. There were no girls who had quite the audacity to show up even half as late as Jake did; thus, all in attendance assumed he was actually a princess whose carriage had broken down somewhere along the road, and had been forced to walk the rest of the way.

The prince, too, noticed what appeared to be a stunning maiden, nearly two hours late. Though taken with her attractive aesthetics as he was, he was not so quick to fall in love as Jake was. Being a love-at-first-sight skeptic who cared for far more than mere visual appeal, he immediately put her other traits to the test by sending a servant her way to retrieve her for competition.

In the next minute, Jake found himself being led to the prince by one of the fellows in his company, surprised that he was to compete already. Why, he'd only just arrived! His heart leapt up to his throat, adrenaline running in his veins as he wondered just what he'd say to the prince! It was too late to think of something, however: Jake was already standing right in front of him.

"Good evening," the prince spoke first, bowing to "her" with an elegant, regal flair.

"G-good evening," Jake answered back, fumbling over his words clumsily, and remembering to curtsy in return halfway through his reply. He was unaccustomed to it, and very nearly dropped the pitcher he was holding. It was only luck that he managed to regain his footing rather quickly. That made him sigh in relief. Spilling a bottomless pitcher could have disastrous results.

One of the prince's eyebrows rose above his shaded visor. Jake didn't catch the subtle movement, but it was a sure sign that he was deeply amused by the refined maiden whose behavior was anything but. Undoubtedly, he enjoyed the deep irony of the situation. Jake had caught his attention, that's for certain.

"May I ask this fine lady her name?" the prince finally questioned, allowing his shades to slide down his regally arched nose.

Handsome eyes of almost unnaturally bright amber met the deep emerald of Jake's and he completely forgot where he was and what he was doing. Utterly hypnotized, he replied, "I'm Jake... Jake Harley."

The prince's amused eyebrow dropped and the other eyebrow rose in what was clearly some variety of confusion, "Your name is Jake? Forgive me if I'm wrong, which is possible since I'm not from around here, but I wasn't aware that both women and men used that name."

"It's, er, short for my real name!" Jake hurriedly made up, suddenly realizing that he was, indeed, currently trying to be a woman. He scratched his mind for another name as quickly as he could before continuing, "My, uh, full name is Jakqueline, but I daresay that's quite a mouthful. It's only practical to shorten it!"

"Hm. I see," this made the very corner of the prince's mouth tilt upwards, his amusement reaching previously unheard of levels. "I'll agree with you on that one. I go by the abbreviation 'Dirk' myself."

Jake grinned at him, for the prince definitely didn't look much like a fellow who would go by Diedrick, "It's a lovely name. I think it suits you!"

With just the slightest bit more warmth than before, Dirk replied, "You may call me by it, then, miss Jake."

"All right then, sir Dirk!" Jake beamed right back, the incredible brightness of his smile already beginning to grow on the prince.

One of Dirk's servants coughed conspicuously, "The contest, your highness."

"Right," Dirk finally stepped away from the shepherd in disguise. He hadn't even noticed that they'd accidentally gotten closer. He repeated the rules for the latecomer, "For the first contest, I request that you accomplish a feat of poise. I will dance with you, and you must balance the pitcher you brought with you on your head. Tomorrow morning, I will announce the names of those who pass this contest and will be allowed to continue. If your name is not on the list, you must extinguish the candle you have lit. Otherwise, I request that you keep it alight until you are eliminated. Do you understand this?"

"Yessir!" Jake answered resolutely before gulping nervously. It couldn't be an easy task to accomplish, judging by the stains of wine and cider already littering what Jake realized must have been an outfit worn expressly for this contest. He carefully balanced the jug atop his head, though he trembled in nervousness. Should he fail this test, he would lose Dirk for ever.

A handful of servants started playing music: two violins, a viola, and a cellist. Dirk bowed politely and Jake slowly, carefully curtsied back. Their hands met, and though both wore gloves, the touch made Jake's skin tingle. He almost shivered in delight, but quelled it to avoid tipping over the pitcher that sat on his head. Then, Dirk's other arm rested at his waist in what was the traditional pose for waltzing. Jake gently put his hand on Dirk's shoulder to complete the position. Even so, his knees were weakened by their mere proximity. The pitcher balanced precariously already. They both took a step, but Jake, unaccustomed to dancing as the lady (or dancing at all, really), moved with the wrong foot and then, it was all over.

The magic pitcher fell and spilled on the both of them, endless rivulets of the last beverage Jake had ordered from it drenching both of them. The beverage in question was a sweet pop, just unusual and exotic enough that it was Jake's favorite, flavored like the citrus fruit known to us as the "orange". It fizzed and bubbled unpleasantly against Jake's skin, and he sputtered blindly, groping for where he thought the pitcher might be, inadvertently hitting it back into the air. Such a mess was made that the dirt beneath their feet was turned to mud, which Jake promptly slipped in, falling straight on his derriere. By the time he could appropriately see again, the pitcher was on the floor, too, making a massive orange-flavored puddle where they'd been dancing.

"Are you all right?" Dirk asked, leaning down to turn the pitcher so that it was no longer spilling everywhere. He was quite a funny sight, with his visor askew and his clothes so soaked, there was no doubt they'd be stained orange for years to come. He offered a hand to Jake.

"Yes, I do believe so," Jake smiled back absently, still rather disoriented. He was just barely cognizant enough to reach out for Dirk's hand and let the prince help him up. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, his dress was very clearly ruined. Jake simply could not bring himself to care, however. "Would you mind terribly if we finished that dance?"

It surprised him a little, since most ladies would find dancing in drenched clothes a completely unpalatable idea, but Dirk agreed, "I'm game if you are."

They took up the pose again, and the musicians, not sure of what else to do, began playing again. Though Jake was still baffled, he managed to stumble through the dance steps, half-leaning on the prince. Dirk had also basically given up any sense of formality, wrapping both arms warmly around Jake's waist as the shepherd's arms were thrown round his neck. Their bodies were almost scandalously close, but they paid no heed, simply dancing as they wished, Jake's head on Dirk's chest (the prince was, indeed, much taller) and not caring where their feet were. The dance ended all too soon for the both of them.

"Thank you for the lovely dance," Jake said, lifting his head dizzily as the last notes died out. "I'm sorry I'm not very good at this."

"It's all right," Dirk replied, reluctantly releasing his arms from Jake's waist. "Thank you, as well. You're better than you think you are."

"Well... if you're certain," Jake lowered his eyes from that intimidating visor before he parted fully, bending down to extinguish the candle between the index and thumb of his damp glove. He handed it to the prince carefully before taking his leave, departing without the pitcher.

He hadn't noticed as he was dancing with Dirk, but the townspeople were staring at him as he left, and he shied under the feeling of a thousand gazes, all on him. He was oblivious to the clear judgement in their eyes, but the staring was beginning to get rather embarrassing. Why, there was nothing wrong with slipping in large puddles, failing to dance properly, brutally futzing up the only chance he had to win the heart of the man he was in love with...

OH.

It hit him quite belatedly that he'd brutally futzed up the only chance he had to win the heart of the man he loved. Though he'd known he was eliminated from the contest the very minute he'd dropped the pitcher, it hit him then that this was it. This was it. There were no second chances for Jake English, now that he'd messed up so badly. He doubted he'd have the chance to see his prince again.

They were calling for another maiden now, though they were almost certainly still cleaning up Jake's horrible mess. He didn't bother to stick around, unable to bear the sight of his love dancing with someone else. He made his way out of town, walking almost as quickly as he had entering it, his dress making disgustingly wet flopping sounds with every step. Jake didn't even realize how miserably wet he was because he was so upset at his failure. It wasn't until he reached the pasture's grass and the soaking, dirty skirts wouldn't budge any further that Jake had the idea to remove some of them. It was seconds after the idea hit him when he began undressing and tossing almost everything he was wearing into the river, deeming it unsalvageable. These clothes were found a few days later by a peasant girl several miles downstream, and they just about made her day.

Jake was absolutely in consolable, rolling on the ground half-naked and crying. He glanced up at the stars through teary eyes, looking to the heavens for guidance and hoping for a reply. What was he to do, now that his own clumsiness had cost him the chance to win his love?

"Hey, are you all right?" Aradia asked, looking down at him with all his sheep behind her. She'd been herding them back in, and had stumbled across Jake in his misery.

Jake sniffled, "No, I'm not. I messed up. Terribly."

"Oh no!" Aradia exclaimed, getting on her knees and petting Jake's soda-sticky hair. "I'm sure you didn't do as bad as you thought! It'll be ok."

"I spilled pop all over him," Jake's lower lip quivered, and for a second, he thought he might begin sobbing again. "It made an awful mess. I was supposed to balance the pitcher on my head... but I made a mistake dancing and it fell."

"Shhh," Aradia comforted him, engaging in motions not unlike papping. "Everything will be ok."

They sat there in the grass for a while, until Jake re-gained enough emotional stability to put on his normal things, which Aradia had thoughtfully brought with her. Then, they returned to the barn in which Jake lived, a small, two-tier affair with just enough room for the sheep on the lower levels and a platform on rafters above for the shepherd. Aradia made herself invisible when they passed through the town, and Jake only tried his best to do the same, not wanting to watch the proceedings of the contest. A very beautiful lass clad in soft blue was currently in Dirk's arms, and she seemed to be passing the test effortlessly.

Jake sullenly gazed at the ground as he walked, his combed-down hair serving as a makeshift curtain between he and the rest of the world. He spent the whole night thereafter sleeping like the dead to avoid the miserable reality that he lived in, and the fact that he had failed the first contest. Aradia held him as a sister would hold her brother, comforting him but knowing, through the use of extensive temporal machination, that everything, in the end, would, indeed, be all right.