The Shiver Storm - (23 parts) - COMPLETE.

[starpollen]

I've never had to use that emoticon before. You have to at least have a satisfactory ending... it doesn't have to be HAPPY but does that mean it has to be SAD??... Why is there no middle ground?...

[everest]

Oh. Wow. The way you write... it's awesome. And Kerr...

[PaperThings]

The air was too tight, too warm. Amalie could not move or think or understand. Why was her brother's chest all red, all wet? Why were his eyes wide open, blank with blindness? But she knew the answers. She did.

The King's voice seemed far away to her now, and she did not hear a word he said. She did not reach for Martin, who looked stricken beside her, or try to fight the man who approached them with cuffs. Her knees snapped beneath her, and she sprawled across Kerr. What had happened? How did he dare die on her? He'd promised; he'd sworn. She did not realize she was sobbing until Cadogan reached for her, roughly comforting her with his arm. She ached for her brother's ability to know her every thought, know exactly how to make her feel better. She wanted Martin to hold her, but he was too preoccupied right now. So she settled for Cadogan, who had become a friend she could depend on; her fingers clutched his shirt so tightly, it ripped down the middle.

"Shh..." he whispered, patting her hair as kindly as he knew how. She saw him glare at the King's army, and shut her eyes. What was happening? Was someone impersonating Martin's father?

"...Dad?" Martin asked, his voice quivering. She did not register the King's response, but heard that it was weary. Dismissive. Her brain was full of air and dust: ignorant and cave-like, but protective. If she forced herself into the moment, forced herself to understand every action, she would not survive the day. Her heart would not pump on that long.

A jab of pain hit her wrist, and she realized with numb anger that they were cuffing her.

"...You didn't aim right, Charlie."

"Hey, how is this my fault? He jumped in front of the girl!"

Cadogan was shouting something, fighting for her, but she'd already surrendered. She let them tug at her until her arms might fall out of their sockets. Her hands fell limply behind her, searing with pain inside their metal brackets. Her detachment fell slightly as she watched them cuff Cadogan - his red-faced shouts hardly helping him now - but she could do nothing to stop it now.

Martin remained still beside them, his mouth agape and his eyes blurred with tears. He was in shock, she understood. But why wasn't he helping them? Why didn't he ask who this impostor was? His eyes were on the King's face, but she noticed the King's eyes looked everywhere but at Martin.

"Let's go, little lady." She felt someone yank her elbow, and only then did she come to life.

"No!" she shouted. She fell against the gravel, wailing until her vocal chords could not produce another sound. "My - brother - " she choked, staring into the furious face of a soldier.

"This is how things are, girl. If you're born like you are," he sneered, "you deserve it." Her tears had drowned the last of her strength, and she was powerless against the hands that threw her into the Chariot. The inside - the cabin they tossed her in, anyway - was not nearly as glamorous as the outside.

They waded in knee-deep dust, cornered by a closet-space of odorous walls. Cadogan was already suffering, sneezing into his shoulder. "Ehhk-tshhh! TSHH! Hehhkshhh!" There were tears on his face, but she could not deduce their source. Silently, once the fit had finished, he tilted his towards her: an offer. She crawled towards his corner and leaned against his arm. It was comforting to know that, even with her brother gone and Martin trapped, she still had Cadogan.

Her brother gone... her brother gone...

She was too tired to cry really, but the tears began again anyway. She let them soak the shirt he'd stolen from the house, too exhausted and miserable to feel any embarrassment or apology. Was this grief? Real grief? It had been different with their parents. It had not been on a day with false promises, only on an ordinary one. And they had not had time to mourn. Besides, Kerr had been there. Kerr, her hero. Kerr, her childhood and her constant and her protector. But now he was gone, and she knew she would never be the same. Her body felt as if it were sinking, slipping away from her, and she did not have the will to bring it back.

"Hehh'NNnngKKTchh! Hehh... Amalie..." he started, his voice breathy but insistent. "I'm so -hihhh - so sorry... Hih!shhchh!"

She could not move. It took all her strength to echo is earlier words. "Don't be. You - you don't get anywhere in life, apologizing for things you didn't cause." He rested his chin atop her head, about as affectionate as he ever was, and they clung together amongst the debris of disaster.

Outside the chariot, the King had finally brought his eyes to rest on his youngest living child. His expression was stormy, grave in its professionalism, but he looked neither angry nor sad. That's what confused Martin, hurt him in a place that he couldn't reach.

"Dad?" he asked, for the millionth time. His voice felt heavy, as if his tongue was heavy with stones. Why was his father ignoring him? Why was his father hurting his friends? There were Vision Children at the palace; surely, his father was all for their safety. He believed that they were a group in need of protection, didn't he?

"Alright, Charlie, you can go ahead and cuff him now."

"Dad - " Martin's voice cut off, the shock like a drum in his chest. He felt the metal lap up his skin - much more gently than on Amalie or Cadogan - but he didn't care. ...Amalie! They'd wanted to kill her. They'd tried to kill her. Her brother... gone because of him. Kerr. Poor Kerr, who'd tried so hard to shield them all. He felt his throat swell up, and he dropped to his knees. His brain wouldn't work quickly enough to process the change of events.

"Martin." His father was too close, now; he could smell the scent of metal and velvet that had surrounded him as a small child. The pair of shoulders that had carried him around the palace, so strong and proud. This was the man who had give him life, given his beloved siblings life. What was going on? "I think you deserve to understand this. Look at me, please."

He could not bring himself to disobey. His gray eyes met his father's lithic pair of blue, and he felt his insides swim with cold. At least his eyes were dry now, but his hands were cuffed... he could not reach his nose with his finger, to stifle any sneezes. "Wh-what?" he croaked.

"Martin. Sit up."

He struggled terribly with the order, but forced himself onto the backs of his legs. His nose twitched, delicately provoked by his symptoms.

"About two months before you were kidnapped, Aran had a Vision." Aran. Another one of the King's Vision Men. "He saw you with the company of two Vision Children, scouring the forests. Now. You may not know it," his eyes sharpened, as if an extra coat of color had been applied to them, "but the Vision Children are a dangerous breed. Vision Adults... they are different. We can harvest their power, attest to their sanity, but... Vision Children are a different matter. It must be kept secret, of course, but we employ a gang - the Hunters, I think they're called - to keep their numbers at bay."

"Y-you..." He felt limp inside, his bones shattered and lungs collapsed. His father employed the Hunters? Cornelia, the men who had incapacitated him so badly... they worked for his father?

"Yes, I, Martin. I!" He appeared aggravated for the first time, and snapped his fingers in the air. A soldier came by and delivered a light but smarting blow to Martin's forehead. He fell over, shocked and wounded; it had not hurt, not terribly, but the damage was more psychological than anything else. His father had never raised a hand to him before, never asked anyone to raise a hand to him. Not to any of his siblings.

The King cleared his throat, continued. "We weighed the risks. The council and I. While we don't disclose our acts against the Vision Children - it would mean revolts, surely - we certainly can't publicly condone it, either. And the Visions are never wrong. If Aran saw you befriending Vision Children, then that would be hard to avoid. As I said, we weighed our options."

He wanted to rail up against this man, this man who had not been the father from years past. But he felt weaker than ever before: weak because he was ignorant, and all he'd known was untrue. How could this be the same man who'd hidden away after Max's death, too besotted with grief to carry on ruling?

He tucked his elbows - the only parts that could reach - over his stomach, hoping to warm it. His whole body felt cold, colder than ever before.

"You weren't in line for the throne, Martin. You were not one of my prolific children, and you hardly had the manners or stamina that a member of the Royal family requires. I made a sacrifice for my country. I decided it would be best to have you disposed of."

Disposed of. Killed. He shut his eyes, willing them not to well up now. He wanted to cry so badly, let his chest crack open and this horrible day fade away as an un-lived nightmare, but he couldn't do it. Not right now.

"We had one of those Hunter men steal you away and lock you up. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of out-and-out murdering a son of the King, so he planned to beset you with illness and let you fade away. I see that part worked. Unfortunately, your mother and Marcel did not approve." He straightened up quickly, locking eyes with Martin. "The others do not know of the rouse, Martin. They never will. They believe you are kidnapped, dead without hope of return. It will stay that way. Losing your brother's trust has damaged this Kingdom enough, and I do not plan to damage it further."

Something sparked inside of Martin then. His mother! His siblings! So they were not in on this crazy plan, they had not wanted him to die. It was rough comfort now, but it was something he would lock in the back of his mind as a standing image: his family did not hate him, only his father.

"Your mother and your brother arranged for them to set you free. They paid a large sum of money for your release, and tried to bring you home - I foiled that, thankfully, hoping your illness would destroy you in the forest." Martin could not take his eyes off his father, somehow. It was a train wreck: he had to watch and spot the blood. His nose began to itch then, the periphery of his nostrils searing with a choice: the burn would have to be rubbed away, or he would have to sneeze. He hugged his elbows tighter around his rib cage, trying to hold it off.

"Unfortunately, your escape allowed the Vision to come true. You met those filthy companions of yours." He made a face. "Your mother threatened to release all of this information to the Kingdom, had I killed you. She could not bear to lose another son, I s'pose." He looked down, eyes narrowed. "You will live in the dungeons until I can decide what to do with you. But, my son - "

He'd managed to wait, seal his lips against the mounting breaths, but the sneeze pounced on him all at once. He ducked his head, spraying the pavement. "Hehhkshoo! Ehhhshooo! HehhSHAH!"

The King's expressions hardened, a mild tone of disgust mixed in with their refined elegance. His words faded away. "Never mind. I suppose you really weren't meant to be Royal."

Before Martin could react, Charlie - a man who Martin had once known, once talked with - swiped him up by his shirt. He felt terribly nauseous as he was swung, dropped onto the dusty floor with a crack.

"Oh, Martin... I..." Amalie could not reach for him, but she jiggled a foot in his direction. He barely made it over to her before he was crying, his tears mingling with hers as they embraced best they could.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He shut his eyes, ashamed. Why was she apologizing? Her brother was gone; her life was ruined - possibly for good - because of him. She ought to hate him.

"My fault," he gasped, barely able to speak. His chest shook violently, bottling up the torrent of noise that he would not let reach his lips. He hung his head, tears dripping endlessly from his pale cheeks to his lap. How could this happen? How could this happen?

"No, no, it isn't. Don't say that." She kicked the edge of his leg in rebuke, but the obscure tenderness of the gesture just made him cry harder. He leaned forward, resting his head between her and Cadogan's legs. He felt both of them lean against him, comforting him, but could not manage a thank you or another apology. Nothing would do it justice. It was all over. All of it. There was nothing left for them to do, no way left to solve this.

"Don't worry," Cadogan said. His voice was shaky, but he still sounded strong. Whole. Martin couldn't help but worry that he and Amalie were irreparably broken. Yet Cadogan, who had suffered nearly as much, carried on. It remained a mystery, how some people had so much strength in side them. Still, Martin could feel only gratitude at this moment. He could hardly lead at this moment, he didn't know if he ever could again. 'I suppose you really weren't meant to be Royal.' Who was he kidding, anyway? "We'll find a way out." Cadogan sounded so sure, Martin almost believed him. After all, if Cadogan, the pessimist had hope, why couldn't he? "Tomorrow's another day."

But as the Chariot set off into the daylight - leaving behind a town so oblivious, that not one person had come running at the sound of Amalie's screams - Martin had his doubts. Maybe it was not them. Maybe it was not even his father. Maybe it was just this world: this world that was too broken for them to live in, too broken for them to fix. He sighed and sat up, leaning his tear-stained cheek against Amalie's. Would it be okay? He didn't know anymore.

[PaperThings]

Most importantly, I want to thank everyone who has ever commented on this story. I love all of you guys, and you have no idea how much your support helps me. I would not have finished this story without knowing that people actually liked to read it; there would have been no way. So thank you , you are amazing.

Secondly, er... I'm sorry about the ending. I really am. I know I personally like sad endings, but they aren't everyone's cup of tea... do not worry, though! I will definitely be writing a sequel (as of now, I think this is going to be a trilogy), and that will provide far more closure (and also create some new problems, of course).

As of now, I'm working on a different original story (actually, a couple ), which I hope people also like . Then, after I finish that, I'm going to go ahead and write the sequel to this (name still to come).

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story! I wish I could think of a more original way to express my gratitude .

[Ciuty80]

THANK YOU for writing

this wonderful story, it was perfect in my eyes

and the spell of sneezes so damn cute!

keep up writing more amazing stories in the future

*fan herself*

[meepsy]

such a sad, sad ending...but such a beautiful story. I would've loved it even without the sneezes.

Good job, looking forward to what's in store next

[Merino Sheep]

Thank you bunches for writing this. It was a lovely story and I enjoyed reading it very much.

I'm looking forward to reading the stories that you write in the future!

[obsessed]

... OHMIGAWD. Be an author someday. Seriously. <3

That was the most flippin' intense ending I've read in a while.

I absolutely adored it.

I'm so sorry Kerr had to die though! D:

And ohmigosh, the angst, romance, change, the CUTENESS.

Plot twists.

RAWR everything.

Marry me?

Aha, love this. <3

[Sawyer]

I actually think you could be famous.

[glowstick03]

Oh. My. Goodness.

Can I just tell you that you're amazing?

For me--it's not so much that an ending is happy or sad, it's that an ending is good. And yours fits the bill.

Really, good job. Writing is like my favorite thing in the world--and you are an inspiration to me!

Thanks for posting this :]

[dumpling]

The ending was so sad but I still loved it <3

You're an amazing writer and should become an author in the future because your stories are just so ASHJDJAKFA ..INCREDIBLE !!!

I can't wait to read your new stories and the sequel to this story

[cheetah]

I know this post is way, way too late, but I have to say it...

That was. Perfect.

I'm not judging on the sneezing. That was a minor bonus. But the way the actual piece was put, the suspense and development, and the wonderfully put closing.

The way you rounded it off was exactly how stories should be closed; totally unexpected and unpredictable, yet...great.

...That said...Gee, I wonder what your /comedy/ is like? XD