#and the stand in lord briefly questions the point of the war... before shrugging it off

[procrastinatingattorney]

seeing bad 3//h characters takes fueling my motivation to write fic lmao

[abraxos-the-phantom]

Scum Disciple Deleted

-scenes. Here you go @vodkassassin. Unformatted and mostly unedited save for some awkward phrasing I fixed as I skimmed through it. I have a habit of merely taking out scenes rather than straight deleting them when I don't think they work out so if you see it on the fic shhh I probably just found a better place for it, but for the most part I think these are unused

TLJ + MF; Flashback/Illusion

[Log: File:Save_??-???.?.????.log]

“You know, for a man so keen on maintaining the preference of a dignified cultivator, you are fairly quick to disband such things as you see fit,” Tianlang-jun mused.

Ming Fan threw a dirty look to the former Overlord of the Demonic Realm over his bowl of beef stir fry lily bulbs. It was a specialty in this region, boasting a sweet lily bulb due to the length of time the farmers around the area spent cultivating the plant. In other words, it was delicious and a welcome change to the guilt trip galore that was eating Lou Binghe’s cooking.

Oh to eat that delicious snow congee without feeling the compulsion to throw it all back up-

Well, no use dwelling on such things.

“Most of anything could be considered vulgar when in close proximity to you,” Ming Fan quipped, taking a generous helping of the stir-fry between his chopsticks. “If you had as much sensibility as you had sensuality, I guarantee that people would be more fond of you. Unfortunately, it is too late for me.”

“Hoh? Is that so?” Tianlang-jun’s lips curled in a smirk in spite of the fact that Ming Fan had no interest looking his way, regardless of the other demon happened to do. Some odd five or so years have taught Ming Fan that there were times when the best move for dealing with the other was simply ignoring him.

Ming Fan maintained his bland tone as he briefly paused to speak, “Yes.”

Tianlang-jun shook his head, “Honestly. Are all disciples of Cang Qiong like you, or are you just the special one.”

Said disciple only gave Tianlang-jun a significant dirty look, “You’d have to actually behave yourself to get to know another disciple of Cang Qiong.”

“Eh,” the Heavenly Demon leaned back against his chair with his hands crossed behind his head. “Too boring.”

Ming Fan made a noncommitting sound as he finally ate the last of his order, letting out a satisfied sigh as he leaned back in his seat.

“Ming Fan, a question if you are so gracious enough to grant me such a thing.”

Ming Fan only raised a brow, “You may ask, whether I answer is not on the table.”

“Why?” Tianlang-jun paused as he attempted to think about his question. “Why do you maintain this relationship of ours? It’s not as if you’re on any obligation to maintain basic relations for a political reason, and you hardly ask me anything so you aren’t after my wisdom. With Lou Binghe going in and out Cang Qiong Sect, it’s not as if I can threaten your Sect any more than I could try and fight with my son.”

Ming Fan crossed his arms, humming for a moment tilting his head just enough to convey thoughtfulness he turned to look the demon lord in the eye, “If you were to be confronted with a former enemy of a war without meaning, what would you do?”

Tianlang-jun hummed, “I wouldn’t care.”

“Exactly,” Ming Fan pointed out. “Now what would you do if you discovered you were on the wrong side of that war?”

“…I still wouldn’t care.”

“Would you?” Ming Fan hummed, “Well, that’s your choice.”

“So is that all? You pity me?”

“Not quite,” Ming Fan shrugged, idly arranging the finish plate on the table. “More like my recompense of sorts.”

Tianlang-jun’s expression was unreadable as he stared, quietly adding, “You realize that I’ve killed hundreds of cultivators like you. Your age, younger- older. It didn’t matter, they were obstacles in my path and I removed them.”

“Of that I do not doubt, but these days- the line between righteous and mad is thin,” Ming Fan snorted. “I stand at the meager in-between myself. But what else can I do? I am but a mere mortal, attempting to right his wrongs.”

Ming Fan took a final sip at his tea, “Sometimes, that is all one can do without going well and truly mad.”

Tianlang-jun chuckled, “I suppose that’s true.”

The hours seemed endless after that, a moment in time felt like hundreds upon billions as the two simply- existed.

“So,” Tianlang-jun said after an eternity’s moment. “What are you doing here Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan blinked, “Is this not one amongst our many meetings?”

The world seem to blur around him like ink amongst a pool of water. Fading into implied images as the sky and trees distorted. The sounds of the earth quieted to a hushed whisper. Ming Fan’s eyes casted around in confusion as the lively village dulled into a dead silence.

“It isn’t,” Tianlang-jun leaned back, smirking. “You’ve spent so long with me that I am now here with you- in limbo. I’m flattered Fan-er.”

Ming Fan narrowed his eyes, scowling, before looking away, “Definitely. Tianlang-jun never called me that to my face.”

Ming Fan twisted away from the…demon for some time to think.

TLJ + MF - Actual Flashback

“You look like you went a round and three more with a golem,” Tianlang-jun tsked at him.

“Are you going to lecture me about coming out while I look like I lost against said golem or are you going to sit your ass down and have some tea like we agreed?” Ming Fan snapped, wincing as he sat.

Tianlang-jun whistled wolfishly. “Why, I never took that War God to be the kinky type.”

“Don’t be so obscene,” Ming Fan rolled his eyes. “He landed me flat on my ass almost a dozen times. Of course sitting down would be a pain.”

“You know there’s this flower that-“

“No.”

“But I hurt just looking at you,” Tianlang-jun whined like a particularly annoying brat. “One tiny little adventure to look for a flower that heals bruises instantly, it’s a Lotus of a blue hue, I hear those people from the far West have been using it for some time.”

“And then Liu Qingge will have me spar against him, again, and this hellish circle will repeat itself. I am only saved by the fact that my cultivation is not as advanced as one of a Peak Lords, otherwise I would be healed by the end of the week and my pain begins anew,” Ming Fan shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but no.”

“Aww, well since you’re being so polite about it…” Tianlang-jun sighed and sipped from the tea. “Mn- this is good. Where did you get it?”

“Shang-shishu taught me how to prepare lemon tea before the fruits go out of season, apparently there is a sweetened-cold version of this as well, but he has yet to refine the technicalities of the ingredients. I worry for him, he always seems so busy.”

“He looks like a rodent who accidentally ate a pepper, though I suppose in this case it would be a block of ice what with Mobei-jun being his lover and all.”

“I did wonder how that happened, and worried a brief time. An Ding Peak’s disciples had said that their master would occasionally come home bruised and barely able to walk, they were rearing to go to war with the Northern Demons far before everything else happened.” Ming Fan sighed, “Well, it isn’t any of my business. I’m sure they’re dealing with the situation in their own way.”

“True that, those An Ding Peak children…physically they are weak, but it is always the weaker ones that surprise you the most. Especially when angry,” Tianlang-jun smiled as he mused. “Afterall, hornets don’t seem like much at first glance. That Mobei-jun has his work cut out for him, ah, speaking of. What of those two? Surely the boy is tip-toeing these days.”

“He tends to keep to the bamboo house, and we tend to stay far away from the bamboo house, especially at night.” Ming Fan raised his hand to drink. “That is all I will say of the matter.”

Ming Fan sighed, rubbing a hand against his eyes, “I am getting far too old for this.”

“Oh please, you’re not even a century old.”

“Hm, and yet somehow I am still significantly more mature than you. Have you reached the regression stage of life Tianlang-jun? I must say, I’m rather peeved that it’s a mental deterioration rather than a physical one for you demons.”

“Hoh?” Tianlang-jun leaned forward, smirking. “Wish to test how youthful I can be Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan raised a hand idly pointing at the silks of Tianlang-jun’s clothes, startling the heavenly demon as he wondered just what the other had found on his clothes.

Then Ming Fan flicked up, hitting the former Demon Lord up the lip and under the nose, causing Tianlang-jun to recoil, sputtering from the unjust attack. The audacity.

“I’m sure you’d at least warm the bed,” He deadpanned, sipping at his tea without a care as Tianlang-jun sputtered indignantly.

NMJ/MF - Original Re-meeting for ch 52; added here for my convenience (cus i don't wanna make another post)

“Gather everyone who can fight!” One voice called. “Sect Leader Nie is being surrounded by a pack of hell hounds! They need help.”

Ming Fan was out and running before anyone could even blink- with only Liu Qingge and Tianlang-jun holding enough time to react by following him.

-

“Shit-“ Mingjue cursed, swinging around Bàxià to hurl one attacking hound over to the side. “Meng Yao- you alright?!”

“Could use-” Meng Yao grimaced as he had to back off to avoid the snapping jaws of another hound. “Some help.”

“Reinforcements should be on the way!” Mei Lin cursed venomously under her breath. “Just where the hell did all these damned dogs come from?!”

“We’re being overrun!” Lang Fengyi yelped as he narrowly avoided claws.

“Fuck-“ Mingjue gathered his energy, willing it to fill him once more. “Get ready to run! I should be able to distract them long enough to-“

“Don’t worry about that.”

The disciples of Nie turned to find a man arrogantly walking through the field, the hounds yipping in fear and running from him, as well as another man clad in white and silver who eyed the hounds back.

Tianlang-jun stood before the disciples of Qinghe Nie with a bright smile, “Relax now, everything will be fine.”

Liu Qingge huffed, drawing his sword, “Says you. We have to make sure he’s not overworking himself remember?”

There was a distant rumbling- an ominous presence that washed over them to the point where all the hounds began to shudder and shake in fear as they too yipped around fearfully.

Descend with great speed. Swift and merciless. Run my enemies. Leave none left alive. May death greet you well.

Formation formed.

Ming Fan dropped his sword with militaristic precision, tilting all the swords generated by his power towards the ground in varying angles.

Heavenly Wrath Formation.

Tianlang-jun looked up in the surprise, “Don’t tell me that’s-“

“It is,” Liu Qingge scowled.

“Who-“ Nie Mingjue began- before all hell broke loose.

Liu Qingge’s expression was thunderous as he swept past rows of demonic hounds, tilting on hand and waiting-

Another man dropped from the sky not a second later, catching Liu Qingge’s robes and righting him before swinging his legs on the man’s waist to get around and jab another hound in the back- Tianlang-jun was swift to join the fray, allowing the shorter cultivator to move around him to get at all the lucky hounds who managed to move away from Ming Fan’s deadly aim fast enough.

While Tianlang-jun added to the deadly partnership with his own flare, it was the pair of Ming Fan and Liu Qingge that showed the obvious years of partnership between them- for the two had years of spars and night hunts to guide their blades where they need be.

Heads flew, limbs joining them as the immortals of Cang Qiong Sect and Tianlang-jun of the Heavenly Demon Line slaughtered the feared and the rowdy- leaving those of Qinghe Nie in awe.

“..Wei…” Meng Yao said, knees beginning to grow weak. “Wei Fan?!”

The man abruptly froze, glancing towards their direction before seeming to move on instinct- the War God sensing the sudden change and using his arm to propel him outward, allowing the man to fly across the air and land his sword true through the skull of the hell hound that was just about to take a chunk from Nie Mingjue’s side.

Ming Fan, not upset as he was, barked at them venomously, “Just what do you think you’re doing?! Fucking move! You’re in a battle field! Fight damn you! Are you not of Qinghe Nie?!”

“Teacher Wei!” Mei Lin cried- openly actually, crying.

“Oh for the love of-“ Ming Fan cursed. “I’ll take your crying and yelling and cursing later, lift your sabres and fight!”

“Xiao-Fan!”

Ming Fan turned, grunting as he launched his sword in the Heavenly Demon’s direction and skewering the hound. “What?!”

“Lower your blood pressure!”

Ming Fan felt his blood pressure rise out of sheer spite. “Fuck you!”

“A-Fan,” Liu Qingge growled. “You just performed one of the most powerful formations while silent. Calm down.”

“I can’t!” Ming Fan caught himself with a scowl. “But I’m not upset!”

“For the love of-“ Liu Qingge turned to Tianlang-jun. “Can you handle the rest?”

“Yeah I got it,” Tianlang-jun batted away a hound with his bare fist. “Just take care of our pissed off little horse first.”

Liu Qingge wasted no time, grabbing the now fuming Ming Fan, his nose beginning to trickle with a line of blood and generally causing the already shocked disciples of Qinghe Nie to panic.

“Hey,” Liu Qingge’s voice was soft as it was firm. “Calm down. Calm. That’s not a request.”

“I’m trying,” Ming Fan hissed. “You try doing this in the middle of battle.”

“Alright back up plan,” Liu Qingge turned to the still shocked Nie Mingjue. “You. Make yourself useful. He needs a distraction.”

“Wha-“

Liu Qingge shoved Ming Fan into Nie Mingjue, the taller man abruptly catching the man by the waist to steady him before something else caused him to loose balance.

Forgot one: Deleted Extra feat. Yang Yixuan + MF; written with it's og formatting since notes preserved my italics somehow

Cold wind swept past the ravine.

Shaking trees and rustling branches provided the background noise for the twittering creatures who lived in the back mountains. Within this quiet land was a surrounding of high elevation mountains spanning all around the mountain side.

There, Ming Fan sat quietly. Watching the creatures bellow- there were no humans for miles save for those few people within the Ancient Sect, and they were hardly just human anymore.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get off your ass.”

Ming Fan stiffened.

Yang Yixuan’s arms were cross across his breast, idly looking down from the view of Qing JIng Peak.

The landscape had changed much since Ming Fan had last come here, it was greener. With the trees far taller than when Ming Fan had last seen them, the older trees cut down by the ravages of war and time- but new ones taking their place. The silence too, was new. With no disciples Cang Qiong Mountain was a far quieter place than it had been during the height of its Sect Years. Some ascended, some peacefully settling into their next life, and some sticking around. Going to and fro the place carrying out errands and enacting a firm hand where the average Cultivator could not handle. The war had put a damper on such things, what with their stance of neutrality, bu it was no less somewhat of a sobering surprise that those of Cang Qiong Mountain had seen what was happening and judged it would be better to remain quiet.

He knew why of course, it was more practical in the long run for a mythical Sect, they were not here to force the future into their own hands- merely to counter the monsters of the yester years. Still. He wondered.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically here it,” the former head disciple of Bai Zhan peak, the former Peak Lord himself, continued with a raised brow. “You’re normally quick to empty your mind and dump it onto others.”

Ming Fan scoffed softly, “Normal is a poor basis to use to pass judgement at the moment, even a Bai Zhan Peak buffoon like you should realize such.”

“…”

Ming Fan pursed his lip, anger simmering.

Settle.

Settle.

Settle.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He said softly, allowing his fist to slack from their death-like grip.

“You just lost your brohter,” Yang Yixuan said bluntly. “You were a raving asshole when Liu-shifu dragged you here. Pretty much spat at Luo Binghe’s feet and insulted just about everyone.”

Ming Fan restrained the urge to flinch at every word.

“I’d be more than a little troubled if you didn’t act like that after losing your brother.” Yang Yixuan continued with a shake of his head. “It’s good to know that our illustrous Ming Fan is still a human.”

“Have I not proven that time and time again?”

“Dunno,” Ming Fan turned his head, the Bai Zhan Peak’s former sole disciple’s voice turning uncharacteristically soft. “You were doing a pretty good impression of acting like an immortal before.”

[underappreciated-bee]

Incompatible Intentions

Chapter One

A/N: This is a Sokka x female!reader and Zuko x female!reader. This is one of my first stories so please enjoy. Also, Y/N is 10 years old in this chapter, making Zuko and Azula 11 and 9 respectively. The year is 94AG.

Can be read on both A03 and Wattpad (same username)

SUMMARY:

Y/N was a young girl born in the Fire Nation: taught that it was the greatest nation in the world. She grew up with these ideologies engraved in her mind. As her father was a close trusted advisor of the Fire Lord Ozai, she would often spend time with the young crowned prince, Zuko.

After her father dares to disagree with the Fire Lord in a meeting, opposing to the invasion of the water tribes, he and his family were banished from the Fire Nation, never allowed to return again. They seek refuge in the Southern Water Tribe, however not for long, as the Fire Nation soon would raid…

WARNING: N/A if you find any please tell me

Also sorry for any spelling mistakes or typing errors. I have proofread this, but sometimes it just skips over my head. 

Status: IN PROGRESS

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Y/N- your name

Y/F/N- your father’s name

Y/L/N- your last name

If you’re on Chrome, you can use this extension to personalise your names.

WC: 1.9K

Zuko's eyes slowly began to follow the gentle movements of the young turtle duck in front of him. Its feet lightly paddled in the shallow water of the pond as it tried desperately to create enough momentum to reach its mother that sat a distance away. Zuko smiled fondly at the creature, breaking off another small piece of the bread in his hand, throwing it gracefully in the direction of its mother- enticing it. 

This had been going on for a while: Zuko feeding the turtle ducks and Y/N staring mindlessly at the cerulean sky, neither of them speaking; only sitting in comfortable silence.  

Y/N and Zuko had known each other for just under a year, first having met one another at a birthday party for Zuko's grandfather. 

Y/N's father, Admiral Y/F/N Y/L/N, helped aid the Fire Lord in his war efforts against the other nations; so for the Fire Lord's 93rd birthday, he and his family were invited by the Fire Lord himself to come to celebrate.

 That was the first time that Y/N and Zuko had met. 

Neither of them talked the entire night, only ever sharing momentary glances with the other before briskly turning away. It had been during the weeks following when they would first speak. 

Y/N's father had brought her to the palace with him, having promised that the meeting wouldn't take up much of his time and that the two of them would be able to go and eat Mochi straight after. Begrudgingly, she followed her father and waited for him in the palace garden. 

Warily, her feet dangled off of the bench you sat on- too short to reach the ground- but that was to be expected from an 8-year-old. Happily, she watched as the turtle ducks raced around the pond, your eyes tracing their movements; they seemed relaxed- content, even.

Zuko felt relaxed as he walked into the palace garden. His hand clutching the bag of seeds his mother had handed him, ready to feed the ducks that day. Smiling, he walked into the garden, eyeing his surroundings in hope that Azula wouldn't be there. 

Abruptly, his feet stopped beneath him: catching the sight of a young girl- around his age- sitting alone on the corner bench. He had no idea who she was, or even if she had been allowed in there, but that didn't stop him from approaching her. 

"Hi," Zuko first spoke up, waving his hand awkwardly in the air at the girl.

 She looked up startled, her face morphing into one of shock as she realised who had just spoken to her. Immediately, she stood up and bowed at the prince

"P-Prince Zuko," she stammered. "I am so sorry if I've disturbed you. I didn't realise you'd be here. I can go and wait for my father somewhere else." The words flowed off her tongue swiftly, her nervousness apparent.

Y/N had never seen the young Prince up close in person before. Sure, she had seen pictures of him around the Capital, and she had noticed him a couple of weeks ago at the Fire Lord's Birthday, but despite her father's position, she had hardly ever met anyone other than the Fire Lord himself.

"My friends call me Zuko." he smiled softly.

"Oh. Well, uhm, Zuko- My name is Y/N," she smiled shyly at him, timidly putting her hair behind her ear. Zuko had picked up on her discomfort,  and so he started to walk towards the pond to spare her of any more of the awkward conversation. 

Carefully, he sat down under the tree in the centre of the garden and started to feed the ducks. Y/N only watched on fondly as the turtle ducks swam towards the seeds he had thrown in their direction. 

"Do you want to come and sit next to me?" Zuko asked the girl, turning around to look at her, "Promise I'm not as intimidating as I look." 

The young girl smiled timidly, she wasn't even really supposed to be in the garden, let alone be talking to a member of the Royal Family. Glancing between him and the bread in his hand, she spoke up, more confident than before, " Only if you let me feed the Turtle Ducks."

Y/N watched the sky peacefully. As time passed, she had learned to feel relaxed in Zuko'd presence; no longer was she as tense and unnerved as she once was. She looked over at him quietly, still feeding the Ducks, she thought. Her head shook slightly before finally breaking the silence.

"Are we not going to talk today?" She asked concerned. He simply shrugged, unsure of what to say. 

He seemed unusual today, not his typical self, and that to no fault of his own. Zuko now being a young 10-year-old Prince had found himself with fewer responsibilities than he'd like. Despite his countless pleas to his father to allow him to be more involved in the war effort, he would always be turned away as 'he wasn't old enough to understand'.

"Sorry I just..." he paused briefly, deciding whether or not to say something, "...I have a lot on my mind, " he admitted, giving her a distressed look.

She glanced at him, concerned,  "D'you wanna talk about it?"

Before they could discuss any further, they were unpleasantly interrupted.

"Hey Zuzu," Azula gleamed as she walked into the garden. 

Zuko sighed heavily at the sight of his sister. He had tried avoiding her the entire day in hopes she would catch interest in other things.

"Hi Azula," Y/N looked at the girl brightly, whilst Zuko only mumbled irritatedly under his breath.

 Azula sat down beside Y/N, looking at her quizically, "I didn't expect you to be here today," her tone more similar to that of a question.

"My father had a last-minute meeting he had to attend.  And since we were on our way to the market he brought me along with him." she smiled kindly at Azula. 

In the past year, Y/N  had found herself inside the Fire Nation palace more often than she'd first liked. Her father would regularly be called in to advise the Fire Lord on some new plan for invading the Earth Kingdom or the Water Tribes. Y/N didn't mind it though, because every time he would have to go to the palace, she'd join him.

It was somewhat of a ritual between the two. Whenever her father had been called to the palace, Y/N would happily join him. At first, she did so because she wished to see the Turtle Ducks. After a while, she realised that she liked talking to Zuko. 

Sometimes, however, Zuko wouldn't be in the garden; only his sister Azula. At first, she was a whole lot less welcoming than her brother. And even though Azula wouldn't admit it, eventually, she too began to like Y/N. She liked the fact that there was another girl, around her age, in the palace. 

It made her feel less alone. 

Azula had sat down beside Y/N and started to pluck at the grass, viciously ripping it up with her fingers before dropping it back on the ground: then repeating. 

As she continued playing with the grass, a bundle of daisies caught her eye. Azula scooted closer to them. Then she started to rip the daises out of the ground, as she had done with the grass. 

By this point, Zuko finally began to notice his surroundings and looked over at Y/N, who remained unmoving on the grass, sprawled out like a starfish. He smiled kindly at the sight before turning his attention to his sister. 

"Azula you shouldn't be doing that! Leave the flowers alone."

Zuko's sudden increase in dynamics caused Y/N to look at the two, unsure of what was going on. Her face was laced in perplexion as she tried to decipher their interaction. It was only when she noticed the daisies in Azula's hands that Y/N moved closer to her to inspect. Slowly, she picked up a daisy off of the ground, and then another, and another; joining Azula in her conquest 

Zuko gawked at them both in complete shock, unsure of how to proceed.

"Look Zuko, it's okay," Y/N smiled, lifting a beautifully crafted daisy chain. "We can make friendship bracelets out of them." She smiled kindly at Zuko, who had a shocked look on his face. He glanced at his sister, seeking comfort in the fact she looked just as baffled as him.

"A what?" Azula spoke up. 

"A friendship bracelet" Y/N repeated. "It's self-explanatory really. It's a bracelet that friends wear to symbolise their friendship." As she began to dig her nails in the stem of a daisy, to thread the next one through, " and we can make them out of daisies." 

From that day on, it became almost like a tradition for the three to sit down together in the garden, creating daisy chains in honour of their friendship. Because despite how long it'd been since they'd seen one another, or even if Zuko and Azula weren't on speaking terms. It would be something they all enjoyed doing, together. 

 A couple of weeks had passed since that day when Y/N walked into the palace with the brightest smile on her face. In her hands, two perfectly packaged presents. She bid farewell to her father before giddily running off into the garden to meet with her friends.  

Azula, sat on the bench, was reading a book and Zuko sat underneath the tree, as he watched the Turtle Ducks paddle in the water. Y/N skipped into the garden, standing in the middle of the room, the cleared her throat. 

Both the siblings looked up at their friend and quickly ran up to her, forgetting what they were doing.

 "Y/N!" they both exclaimed in unison, rushing to be the first to embrace her. After the three of them had hugged and the excitement had died down, Y/N looked at the two, "I got you both something."

The two siblings remained confused as they began to wonder what could their friend have possibly gotten them.

Y/N brought out two presents from behind her back, giving them to the two. They both looked at Y/N, then at each other, unsure of what to expect from the girl.

As the two opened their gifts, Y/N spoke, "I wanted to get the two of you something for being my best friends. So I decided to make it meaningful."

 Azula was the first to open her gift, seeing a red string bracelet with a silver small sun charm on it. She looked down in the box, in awe of the jewellery. 

"I decided that the best thing to get you would be the most important part of a daisies life cycle, " Y/N said as she showed the two a bracelet similar to theirs on her hand. 

Unlike Azula who had a sun charm and Zuko who wore a water droplet:  Y/N had a daisy. Showing them her charm she began to explain her gifts. 

"I have a daisy. Azula is my sun," she said nodding to her friend

"And Zuko is my water." 

The two children looked at the girl in front of them, both grinning from ear to ear. They placed the red string on their wrist and looked back up to their friend.

" I wanted you to have these so that you would be reminded of our friendship. That no matter where we go and no matter how far apart we are. You will always be my best friends." 

No matter what.

[gloves94]

Rumor Has It... [Zuko x Wife!Reader]

Anonymous Requested:

Girl I just got done reading the comics and Zuko with Kiyi IS THE CUTEST THING EVER!!! Can you pleaseee do a one shot where it’s Zuko x reader with their child??💕💕💕💕

Rating: PG Warnings: Fluff! Words:  1281 Pairing: Zuko x Fam!Reader / Pregnant!Reader A/N: I got a little carried away Anon, hope you like it! (And yes- Zuko and Kiyi are hella cute)

This all started with an ill rumor.

Fire Lord Zuko was sitting on his throne. Advisors came in and out of the room with proposals and hearings that he had to hear and after a long day he was mentally exhausted from running his country.

Behind him on either side of the throne stood his Kyoshi Warrior bodyguards, Suki and Ty Lee. They too had a headache from listening to the same rambling of everything that was wrong with the Fire Nation in the post-war reconstruction period.

A merchant that had requested an audience with the Fire Lord was inquiring for a business license in order to sell cabbages in the Fire Nation. It was such dull jargon, so much that Ty Lee couldn’t resist striking a conversation with Suki.

“Hey,” She whispered. Suki turned her eyes in her direction standing perfectly still remaining on guard, eyes fixed on the cabbage merchant. “Don’t you think (y/n) has been acting a little strange?” She spoke in a hushed tone unaware that Zuko’s ears perked at the mention of his Fire Lady. No longer listening to the cabbage merchant he listened to Ty Lee’s words attentively. Suki simply arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, I mean she’s been eating these really weird foods. The other day she had me try a mango with honey and hot sauce, it was disgusting. You know you’d think she’s pregnant or something.”

Suki’s eyes went wide and she turned to face her friend giving her a silencing look.

“(Y/N) is pregnant?!” Zuko coughed out loudly making all eyes in the room turn to his wide-eyed expression.

Everybody was dismissed from the throne room. The cabbage merchant was granted the permit that he needed and happily left.

“No,” Ty Lee rolled her eyes innocently at her friend. “That is not what I said. All I said is that she’s acting like she could be. I mean her aura is pinker than usual-“ She was interrupted by Suki who told her to shut up elbowing her roughly now standing beside her.

“You can’t just say things like that Ty Lee!” She reprimanded. “This is how rumors get started. Right Zuko?” She paused waiting for the Fire Lord’s answer. “… Right?”

Both turned to see Zuko who had gone completely mute. There was a growing smile on his lips and a dazed expression on his glinting golden eyes.

“Oh no…” Suki muttered looking at the daydream expression on his face. “Oh, no, no, no, no….” She repeated approaching him.

“Zuko,” Suki began touching his shoulder hoping her touch would make him snap out of his daze. “Nobody is pregnant. It’s just talk.” She glared at Ty Lee who smiled sheepishly. Suki’s words went in through one ear and out from the other. It was too late; the hopeful idea had already been planted on his head…

Xxx Zuko watched his wife intently as she ate next to him. She seemed to be eating her meal just fine. He didn’t think he could see auras or whatever the hell it was that Ty Lee was talking about. “Want to try my new sauce?” She suddenly said. “It goes great with- well everything.” (Y/N) said leaning in close and putting a bottle of a strange looking sauce with a pungent smell before him. It smelled awful. He was definitely not trying that.

He couldn’t help but smile lovingly at her. He couldn’t think of a good reason why she would keep such good news from him but decided to respect her silence. “What?” She asked a little confused and self-conscious at the endearing look he was giving her. “Nothing,” His smiled widened a little more as he reached for her hand on the dining table entangling his fingers with hers.

Xxx

Over the next couple of days Zuko had been acting odd, like really, really, odd.

(Y/n) couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

He was constantly hovering over her whenever she attempted to manage the simplest of tasks and had ordered servants to do whatever and everything for her. He had also been extra attentive and protective over her, holding her close whenever he could, especially at night and even offering generous foot massages whenever she did her late-night reading.

She found it odd but wasn’t one to complain. That was until one night.

(Y/n) calmly sat on their bedroom’s maroon living room. She was presently enjoying an evening’s glass of wine while reading a book. She was so engrossed in her novel that she didn’t even hear her husband walk into their bedroom.

Zuko stopped in his tracks when he saw his wife consuming her alcoholic beverage and immediately freaked out rushing to her side.

“What are you doing?!” He exclaimed as he jogged to her side almost tripping over the carpet. Nervously, he reached for the chalice of wine and took it from her hands and away placing it on a coffee table nearby. She raised an eyebrow confused at his actions. “Reading?” She guessed. “Enjoying a glass of wine?”

“You-You shouldn’t be drinking that. It’s not good for the baby.” He said cautiously sitting on the carpeted floor next to the sofa; his hands reaching for hers.

She blinked twice and shook her head lightly. Had she heard him correctly?

“What baby?” She drawled out slowly still perplexed at his behavior. He focused his warm eyes on her face, stroking the back of her hand gently. He looked at her just as confused. “Our baby.” He smiled at her so endearingly she could’ve just melted on the spot.

She gave him a dumbfounded look. Looking at his face seeking for any hint or clue of what he was talking about. And then it hit her. That’s why he had been acting so weird… She sat up slightly brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

She looked down at her body, sure maybe she had put on a little weight, but this? 

“But- I’m not pregnant...” It sounded almost like a question.

Zuko’s expression faltered, his eyebrows knotting, eyes dropping in disappointment. He should’ve known better. He knew that it was only a rumor, but a part of him… A part of him wanted it to be true. To be real… “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked turning to him and taking his face in her hands. Raising it so he’d look at her. “Nothing,” he answered quietly still not meeting her eyes. “I just… I thought…”

She was patient waiting for him to explain himself.

“I thought we were about to start our family.” He sighed standing up

“I didn’t know you were ready to start a family,” she said also rising to her feet.

She didn’t know that he was ready for this step in their lives, starting a family. Phew, it was a big deal. She also didn’t know that he wanted this so badly. The blow of the news still reflected on his face.

“Hey,” She said wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s never too late to start,” the slightest of smirks curled the edge of her lips.

His eyes went a little wide at the meaning of this. Broad smile once again blooming on his face. He hugged her back his lips catching hers. 

xxx

Some months later Suki and Ty Lee received news that the Fire Nation was expecting their Crown Prince or Princess to arrive anytime now.

“Well,” Suki shrugged at the news. “Guess the rumors were true!”

Xxxxx 6 Years Later xxxxx A small girl ran the long corridors of the Fire Nation’s Royal palace. An excited look on her face as she ran towards the palace’s entrance as fast as her legs could take her. An excited look on her eyes, broad smile on her face.

Sometime later she spotted the objective of her trek.

Fire Lord Zuko had just returned from a business trip with the Avatar to the United Republic of Nations. He was exhausted from his journey across the ocean and back. The only thing he wanted to do was enjoy a cup of tea and sink into his bed with his wife.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” He heard loud shouts echoing the corridors’ red walls.  

He pushed the exhaustion to the back of his mind when he saw his daughter running towards him looking more excited than ever. “You’re back!” She cried out giddy with excitement before tackling his legs in an embrace.

“There’s my Princess!” he grinned broadly at the embrace and lifted the young girl holding her up in his arms. “Daddy, I missed you!” She said wrapping her arms around his neck hugging him tightly and to think he had only been gone for ten days. “I missed you too,” he smiled back at her and planted a kiss on top of her head. He gave a look to the guards that were escorting him, and they left on command. “Now, where did you come from? Where is your mother?” He asked gently pushing several strands of messy hair out of his child’s forehead.

The young girl ignored his questions.

“Dad! I want you to meet my new doll,” she said pointing in the direction of her bedroom. “I’d love to meet her, but we have to find your mom first. I haven’t seen her in some time and want to say hi to her too.” He explained sighing at the end. “She’s fun!” (D/Name) spoke referring to her doll. “I named her Kiyi!” “But that’s Aunt Kiyi’s name,” Zuko looked at her in surprise at the odd choice in name. “I know, but it’s a good name!” She insisted. “That, she’d agree too.” He nodded briefly thinking of his younger sister.

As he walked with his daughter in his arms he passed by the palace’s central garden. The one in which he had spent many pleasant afternoons with his mother feeding the pond’s turtle ducks.   He stopped in his tracks and looked at the tree next to the pond and then at his princess. “You know what… Mom can come find us.” xxx “One time I threw a bread at a turtleduck and its mom came and bit me,” Zuko explained as he tossed a piece of bread to the turtleduck family on the pond. Both him and the princess had been sitting there for some time now enjoying the cool shade under the garden’s tree, sharing the intimate family moment. She couldn’t help but laugh at her dad’s anecdote. “Like this?” She said taking the large loaf of bread and aggressively tossing it at a little turtleduck making the poor thing go underwater. The mother quacked angrily and approached them. “No! Not like that!” He saw the mother duck approach and lean forward to bite his child and instead stuck his hand. He winced slightly at the discomfort and shook off the animal’s beak. He would never allow anybody to touch or harm his princess. “No! Dad!” She cried out concerned reaching for him. “Are you okay? Why did it do that?”

“Because you hurt her turtleduckling. That’s what parents do. We defend our turtleducklings.”

“Oh,” she deflated slightly. “I’m sorry dad. It’s my fault you got hurt,” she apologized lowering her head. “Just be more gentle next time,” he said laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “If not, you’ll have to face the mother turtleduck’s wrath!” He cried out before abruptly sinking his fingers into her sides tickling her.

(Y/n) watched the warm scene as she stepped into the garden. She wanted to approach the two people she loved most in this world but didn’t want to interrupt the endearing scene she was witnessing.

She’d never get enough of those two. It wasn’t enough to start the day with them. To struggle trying to get their daughter to eat her vegetables only for Zuko to sneak some dessert to the princess without (Y/n) noticing, although she did, she just pretended not too. Even finishing the day with (D/n) sneaking into bed with her parents after they’ve put her to sleep.

“Mom!” (D/n) suddenly cried out snapping her out of her train of thoughts.

“There you are,” (Y/n) said approaching the two of them. She saw her husband bending over still holding his daughter’s sides in a tickling embrace.

“She’s been asking about you all week. You spoil her too much,” she shook her head with a slight smile and joined her little family kissing her husband’s cheek. “Welcome back, the three of us missed you.” She said sitting next to him running a hand through her daughter’s hair.

“Three of us?” He looked at her confused. She simply smiled, the cheeky grin on her face growing even wider. It was then that it hit him. He couldn’t help himself, overjoyed he brought his wife in for a loving embrace. “I’m so happy!” He spoke against her hair thrilled at the thought of a new person joining their growing family.

The best part of it all was that this time it wasn’t a rumor.

xxx

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[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Dangerous Heart

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

Harry could hear the shouting and the sound of feet thundering after him. He couldn’t go home, that would lead them right to his only safe-haven. He could go to the Dursleys, that would serve them right, but that would mean actually seeing his ‘family’ and nothing was worth that kind of torture.

“Potter!”

Harry winced as he looked over his shoulder. He couldn’t see them, but the yelling was loud enough that bystanders were looking at him in alarm. He never should have given them his real surname.

“Hey!” The whisper yell almost had him tripping over his feet. “You can hide here.”

Harry looked up to see someone, the face was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. The man was standing at the entry to a boarded-up storefront that hadn’t been used in years.

Indecision was strong but the sound of feet coming closer made up his mind.

“Okay.”

One foot closer to the guy and the polite smile on his face changed into a smirk and alarm bells went off in Harry’s mind.

A flash of a memory had him stilling briefly.

‘I heard you have liquid G.’

‘Depends on who told you.’

Shit.

An outstretched hand had Harry jumping backwards into an older woman who began yelling at him immediately. He tried to apologize but his mind was too distracted to do it justice. He knew that guy.

“Looks like you ripped off the wrong person,” The man jeered, eyes glancing toward where the yelling of his name was still coming from.

Harry was smart, he knew that, but he never could get rid of the ability to make things worse.

“How’s the cough?” Harry taunted, grinning when the guy’s hands clenched. It had been so easy to pass off cough syrup as liquid ecstasy when the other person had no clue what they were looking for.

“Why you—”

Harry didn’t stick around to witness the man’s anger or words, he jumped over a bin and kept running. The delay hadn’t worked to his advantage, as he looked over his shoulder, he could see the gang of guys still chasing him.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do now?

Harry tried to throw them off by taking random turns but ended up hitting an alley.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Harry swore, his breathing increasing in tempo to match the sound of running he could hear.

He needed to leave, needed to get out of there and he needed somewhere safe. Somewhere where no one wanted to hurt him, somewhere where he could relax.

Harry needed somewhere.

When his hands started to shake, Harry didn’t think much of it, his whole body was shaking, and it was probably from the adrenaline. But as he looked down at his hands, he jumped in shock.

Yellow light.

Yellow light was surrounding his hands and he wasn’t sure what it was. Oh, logically his mind understood. The years of dreams, flashing lights, whispered Latin words and Uncle Vernon’s insistence that magic was a figment of his imagination and nothing more all led up to this.

Magic wasn’t real.

The Dursley’s said so.

But…

What else could it be? The light grew brighter, much too bright to look at. He closed his eyes as his hands came up to block it all out.

Wind blew his hair in a whoosh of cycling air that felt far too stifling to be real. It had to all be a dream, right? It wouldn’t have been the first time. When he looked back down at his hands and saw no more yellow, he thought he had been right. It was just a dream.

Except it wasn’t.

Harry looked up and his breath left him in a sharp exhale. The yellow magic had transferred to the space in front of him. Only it wasn’t just an orb of bright light, it was a portal.

A portal to another world.

There were shapes on the other side of the portal, but he couldn’t tell what they were. Low murmurs of a conversation were audible, and his curiosity had him taking a few steps closer.

“Where did you come from?” Harry asked, fingers trailing above the portal but not touching. It was a stupid question, but he had been hoping there was even a sliver of a chance that he hadn’t done that. Because if he had done that, then Uncle Vernon lied.

That would mean Magic was real, that he possessed it.

The sound of running grew louder, and Harry knew it was only a matter of seconds before they caught up to him. He could turn around and run a different direction and hope to wrangle free somehow.

Or.

He could go through the portal.

His curiosity grew too high to control and led to the very reckless realization that he wanted to see what was on the other side.

With a deep breath and no common sense whatsoever, Harry ran straight into the portal and didn’t look back.

—————

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected but skidding into another person and knocking them both over wasn’t it.

“Ow.”

The voice was soft in a way Harry didn’t hear too often. He looked down into angry silver eyes and his breath caught. Whoever he had knocked over was stunning. Pretty eyes, delicate hands, a sharp jaw and a pointed nose.

“You are so pretty.”

A lone arched brow preceded a small quirk of plump lips. “I know.”

Confidence. Harry liked that in a man.

“Just who might you be wizard?”

“Harry, I was—wait, wizard?” Harry asked, lips pursed in a frown.

“Do you prefer a different term? Warlock perhaps?”

“No—” Harry’s frown deepened. “I think you’re mistaken. I’m not a wizard or a warlock. I’m just human.”

That got him two arched brows as a response.

“You are the one mistaken, Harry.” There was a pause as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You have so much power to you. I can feel it, taste it even. It’s overwhelming.”

Harry wanted to laugh but there was no joke. Clearly, the man thought he was telling the truth.

“And you? Who are you?”

“My name is Draco, I am no wizard, but I do possess enough power to put up a good fight, and I own this Kingdom.”

Kingdom? Before Harry could look around, someone else spoke, causing him to startle.

“Do get off the floor, won’t you?” It was drawled in a condescending tone, one that Harry didn’t care for.

Harry was embarrassed to realize that he was still on top of Draco. He rushed to stand, offering a hand to help.

“Courteous,” Draco murmured, taking Harry’s offer. “A kind wizard, rare breed you are.”

Wizard. Harry still wasn’t sure what to think. The portal meant something. He knew he had done that, there was no arguing that away. But wizard??

“Never met any handsome kings before,” Harry returned, smiling at the light dusting of pink on Draco’s cheeks.

“Dangerous,” Draco whispered, eyes roaming Harry’s face. “My heart is weak to such charms.”

Flirting. Harry was used to flirting, it got him what he wanted in his line of business. Easy to rip people off when he played up his innocence and flirted enough to empty people’s pockets.

But he wasn’t used to flirting like this.

“There are more important things to attend to.”

Harry turned to look at the person who spoke and was surprised to see how similar the man looked to Draco. Definitely a familial resemblance.

“Not now father,” Draco said, eyes still on Harry. “Can I keep him?”

“No.”

“Keep me?” Harry asked, his lips twitching. “Shouldn’t that be something you ask me?”

“Oh,” Draco breathed, eyes blinking rapidly. “Is that how it’s done where you come from?”

Before Harry could say yes, Draco’s father spoke again.

“There is no time for such foolishness, we have to decide your next move. Your position will decide who we side with in the war.”

“War?” Harry asked, eyes looking around in alarm. His attention focused on a large round table showcasing a map filled with many different coloured pins.

Draco placed a hand on Harry’s back and guided him toward the map.

“This is my Kingdom,” Draco pointed toward the middle of the map, the only area free of pins. Serpent Landing. “All neighbouring lands are in war.”

“But you aren’t?”

“Petty disputes have never interested me,” shrugged Draco. “I’ve not sided with either, but I feel that won’t last much longer. I’m being pressured to choose.”

Harry looked down at the map as Draco continued to speak.

“Lion Valley is in need of potions for their troops, while Raven Hill is seeking rations,” Draco said with a huff. “Both offer a hefty payment in return should I side with them. Choosing one will make me enemies of the other, and I am loath to do so.”

“Why choose then?” Harry asked. “Send the potions to Lion Valley and the rations to Raven Hill. Both sides will think you are their ally when in reality you play both sides.”

Draco’s mouth parted on a small noise, eyes looking between the two lands on the map.

“Oh, I like him,” Draco’s father said before extending a hand. “Lucius Malfoy, a reluctant adviser to the arrogant King.”

“My arrogance was taught father,” Draco said with sparkling eyes. “I learned from the best.”

Lucius rolled eyes before pulling out a few pieces of paper and began to write what looked like a letter.

Draco picked up a sword from a display and sheathed it before turning to Harry. “I would show you my home, but I find that to be tedious. Would you like to go on an adventure with me instead?”

An adventure? Harry looked over his shoulder where the portal was still visible. Enough time had passed that he was sure he’d be fine to return home. But…

“Should a King go on adventures?” Harry teased. “Such an important position after all.”

“Thank you,” Lucius said, hands in the air. “My son, however, doesn’t listen to reason.”

Draco scowled at his father before turning to Harry, his face softening a margin. “Who if not a King? Exploration calls to me.”

When the portal began to flicker, Harry knew it wasn’t time but his own desires that caused the portal to weaken.

“Who am I to argue then?” Harry said, an arm held out as he ignored the dying portal and smiled at Draco.

“The trouble we can get into,” Draco whispered, there was an excitement to his voice that had Harry’s smile widening. “A King and a Wizard.”

“Lord help us all,” Lucius mumbled to the now empty room.

There was no doubt in his mind that Draco would keep Harry.

“Lord help us.”

---------

@abstractundefined​ I had to look up what Sword and Sorcery was lmaoo and I think if I continued the story it would make more sense how it fit the genre but oh well shsks. I do hope you liked it!

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Saccharine

from An Adventurer’s Guide to Romance

Part 3 of the series collaboration between myself & @guardians-of-exo​!  Please go check out her blog! Her moodboards are *chef’s kiss*  magnificent and this go around she has listened to all of my ramblings about Won Deuk Kyungsoo in 100 Days My Prince, which I binge watched in a week just to help me write this. If you haven’t seen it yet- go watch it. <3 Pairing: Kyungsoo x reader Rating: Fluff. Nothing too smutty or excessively graphic in this one, lads. Words: 7.2k

“Chanyeol, no,” you immediately protest, frowning at him from across the sparring field. He ducks your jab with the training sword, spinning behind you and using his momentum to make a swing for your exposed back. You bend your torso down and to the left, gracefully avoiding his hit. “Chanyeol, yes,”, he replies with a laugh. The mirth in his voice suits him. Here, in one of his favorite places. Sparring with you, his second-in-command and sisterly figure. Rolling your eyes at him, you continue your dance, “She’s a distraction.” You shake the sweat from your fingers, gripping the smoothed wood of your swords and settling into a defensive stance with both. He comes at you with a grin, smacking his wooden great sword down against your crossed ones over your head. He stares you down, “She’s exactly the focus I need, actually.” The Knight Captain believes he’ll overpower you like this, with his height and weight and giant sword bearing down against you. The expression he mocks you with is wiped off his face when you tilt just enough to the right to slide out from beneath his weight. He used too much trying to force you down; now losing his balance and catching the edge of your swords with the flat side of his just in time to avoid a strike. ______________________________________________________ The following morning after roll call you cannot find your commander anywhere in the barracks or the training yard. You were sure he was with the Prince and even walked up all of those stairs to his majesty’s tower. The guards let you pass easily, because, well, you well outrank any of them except for Chanyeol. You’re disappointed when a knock on the door reveals a sleepy Prince Baekhyun, rubbing the remnants of it from his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry your majesty,” you say formally, bowing before him. He smiles through his haze at you, knowing behind closed doors those stiff formalities drop altogether. “I thought Knight Captain Chanyeol was with you.” He shakes his head and covers his mouth to yawn, “No, I haven’t seen him since late last night when I got in fr-“ he freezes, realizing where he is and who can hear him. Your eyes widen at him and your frame sags with relief just a little bit when he realizes the nonsense he’s speaking. “Sorry to disturb you, then. I’ll be off,” you bow once more, turning to hunt elsewhere for your leader. When you enter the Medical wards, the Head Physician tells you she hasn’t seen him, either. An hour later, he is found at last. In the kitchens, bothering the Head Chef and flirting with his new assistant while she tries to work. Work, like Chanyeol should be. “Knight Captain Chanyeol,” you say loudly, giving him a stern glare. “I have been looking all over this palace for you!” The Cook’s assistant, a pretty thing, looks between the both of you with wild eyes and a blush staining her cheeks, her fingers wrapped tightly around a whisk of cream in a bowl. The Head Cook himself is watching you silently from the spits, basting a row of pheasants over the fire. There’s just a hint of a smile at the corner of his plush mouth. Chanyeol looks at you with a frown, “I was with Baekhyun!” You sneer at him, pointing a finger at his chest in triumph, “Oh you big fat liar! I just walked all the way up there and heard from him myself that he hasn’t seen you! He was still asleep.” Chanyeol whines lowly, raising to fist the side of his own head, “Ah, shit.” “Come on,” you urge. “I apologize he keeps bothering you, Master Cook,” you comment, bowing slightly before you grab the tall man by the black fabric against his back and drag him from the room. ___________________________________________ That evening, in the comfort of your best friend’s room, you’re sipping wine and slowly picking apart a wheel of cheese between you. “He keeps going to the kitchens and flirting with the new assistant. I don’t think that’s all, either.” The Lady of the Palace smiles at you, “Oh come on now, let him have his fun.” You give her an incredulous stare, “Absolutely not. We have a code of conduct to uphold and a war to fight and he’s going to get into trouble.” “It’s not a war, don’t be so dramatic. Relax a little, I know you’re worried about him but he’s also working really hard. We all are,” she says calmly. Bringing her own cup to her lips briefly, she drinks before continuing, “I’ve seen him in the training yard in the middle of the night several nights in a row.” “Yeah,” you agree. “Because he’s waiting for our troublesome Prince to come clambering back over the walls.” She nods in understanding. There are a select few of you in the palace who know about Prince Baekhyun and his personal mission to save his own people from poverty and famine brought by the Draugers. As they slowly began to run people out of their homes in the lower parts of the kingdom and farms were beginning to be overrun with the undead at night, he took it personally and his father, the King, has his hands tied in the dilemma. The power-hungry Lords in the upper parts of the city, and even some of the working-class citizens, are taking unfair advantage of the homeless farmers and their families moving into the safety of the inner city’s walls. Baekhyun- watchful, observant and daring Baekhyun, who is fair and just and will someday make a great King, takes it upon himself to save them. He watches, or has ears and eyes in the city to watch and listen for him. He knows who is in need and who is not. Having grown up a skilled fighter and a professional at sneaking in and out of the palace since he could walk, he’s been using his skills to make right ever since. His mysterious heroism just started a few weeks ago. It’s a secret you will all take to your graves unless he tells you otherwise. “Anyway,” she says. “I don’t think you should be too hard on him as long as he is doing his job.” You sigh, considering her opinion, “I suppose. But I don’t like that he’s distracting someone else from their work.” She shrugs, “Does Kyungsoo seem bothered by it?” You chew your lip, “I don’t think so. But you know Kyungsoo. He doesn’t get bothered by much, or at least doesn’t speak up about it.” Smiling, you remember his reaction earlier this morning. “He looked to think it was funny that I scolded Chanyeol this morning.” The Lady of the Palace leans forward in her chair, “Oh? How so?” “He smiled at me,” you answer. She sets her goblet on the table between you, “He smiled at you?” “Yes?” you say, tone uncertain now that she’s questioning it. “I’ve never seen him smile at anyone other than Chanyeol,” she surmises, her delicate brows knitting together. She stares blankly at the cheese while she tries to remember a time she may have seen him with that expression. ___________________________________________________ Today, as is becoming a regular annoyance, Chanyeol disappears after roll call in the barracks, leaving you to separate a pair of green soldiers fighting over the last link of sausage at the table. It's still early for the rest of the palace, but you have an inkling he’s in the kitchens again. When you enter with lungs full of hot air to unleash upon him, the monstrous Knight Captain is nowhere to be found. Instead, you’re greeted by the Head Cook himself stirring a pot. The scent of its contents hit your nose and you smile in greeting, “That smells delicious.” Kyungsoo lifts his head at the sound of your voice as if he were expecting someone else. “Would you like to try some? It’s a new recipe and I’m not sure about it,” he says after hesitating for a moment, with eyes flitting across the room until they settle upon your face. Immediately his voice strikes you in an odd way. Its deep and soft tenor equally compare to the scent coming from the pot. You think both are quite lovely. It’s not that you’ve never heard him speak, but you’ve not heard much from his voice other than simple pleasantries or reprimanding words for Chanyeol. You’re shocked and admittedly a little flustered that he so casually offered his spoon to you. His eyes are sincere as he watches you. The spoon is frozen midair- lifted with a bite crested in the shallow pit and waiting. Some of it drips back into the batch below, and you cough. “Ah, no thank you. I’ve already eaten and don’t want to spoil my stomach,” you explain shyly. His eyes fall back to his task immediately. His thick brows furrow as he concentrates on stirring. “Is there something I can help you with then, Lieutenant?” he asks without looking up. Realizing you’d been standing there watching him, you smooth your palms down the front of your tasset, “Oh, right. I was hoping to find the Knight Captain here. Not that I was hoping he was bothering you but I thought maybe this would be a good place to start looking since he disappeared after roll call.” Kyungsoo turns to you and lets his eyes flick to your face again briefly. The faintest smirk is tucked into the corner of his plush lips, “He was here, but he left to help Kennel Master Sehun carry two sacks of bones down to the dogs.” “Good,” you state. When Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything further you feel embarrassed all over again, “Not good that he was here bothering you but good that he’s not being a pest, I mean.” The Head Cook laughs. He smiles fully, making a whispered sound of joy at your awkward floundering, “It’s okay, you don’t have to keep explaining.” You barely understand what he says to you. You’re much too caught up in how nice his full smile is. The way his cheeks rise to make his eyes crinkle and his lips split into a heart shape that shows his teeth. “Right then,” you gasp, blinking twice. On the walk down to the kennels, your brain wonders about Kyungsoo and how unlike him it is to talk or smile. You wonder if perhaps he has always been that way but you never had the chance to see it. Now that you recall, there was always someone else holding everyone’s attention with a story or a joke. Perhaps this color on him looks so nice that you want to explore it. Now that your commander has reason to go to the kitchens constantly, it mean that you also now have a reason to frequent them in chase of him. To yourself, you admit that maybe it isn’t such a bad thing if it means you get to see Kyungsoo smile more. __________________________________________________ Two days later you’re awoken by a loud clanging from outside your chamber in the middle of the night. You jolt upright, immediately swinging open your door to investigate, but there isn’t a soul in the corridor or outside when you peek into the training yard. Quietly, you open doors to look into the two rooms immediately beside yours, but there is nobody other than heavily sleeping soldiers in bunks. The moment your fingertips brush the iron ring of your own door handle, the faint sound of feet hitting the stone makes your head turn sharply to squint into the darkness. The footfalls are heavy and flat, easily distinguished to know the person is barefoot. The figure passes by one of the windows looking into the training yard, and the blue moonlight gives you a flash of shaggy silver hair and a sharp jaw. A preview of the naked, broad shoulders that come to stop in front of you. “Why are you standing out here?” Chanyeol asks. His voice is not yet roughened from sleep, and even the moon does him no favors to hide the circles beneath his eyes tonight. You look behind you once. “A loud noise woke me up,” you explain. He nods, turning his lips into a deep line that puts dimples in his cheeks. “Sorry about that. I stepped into a bucket,” he sighs. Then adds, “I’m glad you’re awake though. I’ve got orders for you.” _________________________________________________ While you didn’t sleep well, you manage to make it through roll call without taking anyone’s metaphorical heads, and your brotherly Knight Captain was surprisingly present. In six days you’re leaving for a mission, orders directly from the King himself. According to what your commander told you, there’s an Apothecary coming to town to assist in healing those in need from the Draugers. With something as valuable as medical supplies and another set of healing hands, there’s worry it could be dangerous, so he wants the Apothecary well-guarded. During lunch, you catch the scent of something familiar. At the sight of the soup in your bowl, you realize it’s the new recipe Kyungsoo had asked you if you’d like to try earlier in the week. Smiling, you lift the first bite to your lips. From the taste and texture, you consider the broth has a heavier flavor. Something smoked and savory, soaking well into the chunks of potato throughout. There is just a little too much black pepper for your preference, but it does not take away from the dish overall. Still curious at the meals end, you find yourself walking into the kitchens. The Head Cook is balancing a ladle on the edge of a table when you enter. He looks up and gives you a small smile. “Did you eat well?” he asks calmly. You grin at him in return, “Are you awaiting my review of your not-so-sure soup?” You both laugh at the name you’ve given it, but Kyungsoo says nothing else. “It was very good. A little too much pepper for me personally, but that doesn’t really make or break it. What did you put in it to make that deep flavor though? Surely there were no heavy meats in my bowl,” you wonder aloud, leaning to rest your bum against the side of the large stone fireplace. Kyungsoo smirks, crossing in front of you to collect a jar from the shelf hanging above the largest work table in the center of the room. He unties the lid and comes back to you, stepping close to hold the jar beneath your nose. His wide eyes don’t miss anything as they watch you inhale the scent with closed eyes. “Yes, that’s it,” you clarify, eyes popping open brightly. The Head Cook smiles, “It’s a secret.” Your mouth drops into a pouted frown, “Oh.” His lips split into that full smile again, and it makes your breath catch. “I’ll tell you on one condition,” he whispers. You perk up again, looking around the wide expanse of the empty room. “I need an honest opinion of new recipes,” he says quietly. Those big brown eyes of his are still staring into you innocently, and it is a gaze you feel comfort in. Confused, you ask, “Why not Chanyeol?” to which Kyungsoo scoffs. “There are a multitude of reasons why,” he quips, and you can’t help but agree and laugh when you think about it. “Deal,” you comply happily, taking his hand in yours and forcing him to shake. “Beef drippings,” Kyungsoo divulges immediately. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh. I wouldn’t have thought of that,” you answer, knitting your brows and considering the taste. After a moment of silence, Kyungsoo clears his throat, “That tickles. May I have my hand back, please?” Shocked, you realize you’d never let go of his hand, idling running your fingers around the callouses on his palm while you thought about the not-so-sure soup. You drop it as if it had burned you, rising to your feet in embarrassment and excusing yourself too quickly from the room. ______________________________________________ The following day you eat with the rest of your squad in the mess hall. Your plate differs from the rest of the soldiers dining. One of them leans over when you sit, his chin flicking toward your plate of greens, fruits and nuts. He asks, “You on a diet or something, Lieutenant?” You laugh loudly at his remark, waving a hand in front of your face, “Yes! Yes, I am. That’s why it’s different!”

He grunts, leaning back to his own plate of light meats and sops. The colorful assortment of food on your plate doesn’t gain any further attention as you pour the wine-colored vinaigrette over the greens and assess the flavors as you chew the first bite. You feel a sense of push and pull between wanting to eat quickly so you can meet with Kyungsoo about this food and watch him light up with your praise, and wanting to savor every bite slowly to truly examine the taste. __________________________________________ Two days later you enter the kitchens with a brief knock. The aroma of honeyed glaze fills your lungs, exhaling with a delighted sigh. There’s an excitement in your step as your eyes look for Kyungsoo, stopping short when they land on his assistant standing in front of you. She looks bewildered by your presence and a little confused, turning to the Head Cook. “Ah, I’m sorry,” you begin. “I was looking for Knight Captain Chanyeol. I thought he might be here begging for food-“ you explain too quickly. Kyungsoo moves away from the hot kettles, wiping his brow as he grins at you, knowing very well that you know precisely where he is, and that couldn’t possibly be the reason you’re here. He pats his assistant on the shoulder warmly. “Good day, Lieutenant. Thankfully, he hasn’t,” he says calmly, pausing to add. “But I’m sure he’ll show up later.” The question lacing his statement is one that cracks a smile on your own face, earning him the dusty rose that rises to your cheeks. Suddenly, the assistant murmurs a curse and rushes to a kettle as its contents try to boil over the sides. Her action breaks the bit of unspoken words between you and the handsome Head Cook quickly. You pat your tasset down against your thighs with a smile, “Right. I’ll take my leave then. I’m sorry I disturbed your work, Master Cook.” You’re sure to smile warmly at his assistant as well before you turn to leave the room completely. An hour later you return to the kitchens as nonchalantly as possible, first peeking through the crack in the door to make sure Kyungsoo is alone. There’s a voice singing softly coming from the room, and you stop to listen when you realize it’s the Cook himself. You watch the hard plane of his back as he works, bent over the pork he was roasting in honeyed glaze earlier, singing the ballads of Red Run Keep and the Age of Oppression. His voice is soothing to your ears, more pleasant than the scent of the honey glazed meat he slices evenly and plates for Supper tonight. You enter the room as quietly as possible, sneaking in to lean back against the edge of a table along the wall while you listen. He turns around not long after you’ve settled, remaining calm rather than jumping like you would expect. His eyes lift from his work to your frame. “Is there something you needed, Lieutenant?” he asks. You laugh, “Yes, actually.” “Good. I hope you’re not trying to be a distraction just like your commander,” he jests, but it makes you freeze, feeling like you’ve been struck, and a little self-conscious regardless of the joke. Your smile falls from your lips a fraction, and Kyungsoo’s eyes don’t miss the way you wilt. “I was joking. I enjoy your company, no matter the reason,” he states clearly while he busies himself washing and drying his hands. “I have a mission,” you get to the point. He slows his movements, thick brows knitting together as he dries the last of the water from his hands with the rag tied to his smock. “I leave in two days.” “Can I ask what for?” he inquires, coming to stand beside you, leaning against the same table. You nod, “The King has hired a new Apothecary to help with the wounded. I’m leading a squad to fetch him and bring him here safely.” Kyungsoo nods, “He doesn’t want Chanyeol to go?” With a sigh, you confirm, “We all know Chanyeol’s main focus in the Prince. He can’t go and leave Baekhyun unguarded. Do you doubt my abilities, Master Cook?” His innocent gaze whips to your face immediately, full of surprise. Your eyes pierce through his gaze as if they were your swords themselves. “No, not at all. I’ve heard the stories. I know you’re more than capable,” he assures you. You squint at him, discerning the color of blush tinting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Good,” you surmise with an air of absolute finality. Kyungsoo seems to notice the tension in your posture and the way your attitude shifts to one of authority. “What do you need from me?” he asks politely, standing to his full height again. You bring a finger to tap against your lips twice, “I wanted to let you know. I hope you can wait a few days to make any new recipes.” You feel a little sullen, still self-conscious about whether or not the handsome man was really telling a joke. Kyungsoo folds his arms across his chest, bringing one hand to wipe at his chin thoughtfully, “I suppose I can wait. I appreciate you letting me know.” ________________________________________________ “I can’t believe he said such a thing,” says the Lady of the Palace. She twirls a goblet of wine between her fingers, gently swirling its contents with her wrist. You tear off a bite of crusted bread with your teeth from the piece in your hand, “It is what it is.” She sets her cup down, clapping her hands excitedly as she sits up straight and fixes you with a devilish smirk, “I know! You should go on a date with Sehun!” You choke on the dry crumbs of bread in your mouth, gasping briefly in shock. “What are you on about? Why would I do that?” you sputter, taking a full swallow of wine from your cup. You wince from the sour bitterness as it slides down your throat. The Lady of the Palace laughs cheerfully, “Oh, come on, Y/N! He thinks you’re amazing. Especially how well you handle a sword! If Kyungsoo likes you the same way you like him, it should make him jealous.” She wiggles her perfectly manicured brows at you. Sinking further in the velvet chair, you shake your head with a scowl, “No. It’s a waste of time. I’m not interested in the Kennel Master like that.” “But Sehun-“ she tries, pouting at you from under her lashes as she sips at the wine in her glass. “I said no. Chanyeol is bad enough with his lovestruck puppy eyes. I don’t want to be compared to that any more than I already have been,” you warn. She clicks her tongue at you, “You’re right, okay? I get it. But it’s, ah… how to put this?” She considers, breaking a chunk of bread from the loaf between you. “Those feelings won’t go away so easily. It’s better not to resist them.” You deadpan, staring at her like there’s an extra head sprouting from her shoulders. She smiles at the bread, toying with it in her hand softly before she pops it into her mouth. When she swallows, she looks at you again, “That’s why you should go out with Sehun.” You groan aloud, “You’re insatiable.” “No, I just think it would be fun to double date with Junmyeon and I,” she clarifies with her strong air of dignity. “Fun isn’t something you normally have time for,” you comment with as much snark as you can muster. She smiles, tilting her head to one side briefly, “Correction- fun isn’t something I thought I had time for. Now that I’m having it, I can definitely see how much I actually needed it, and I for one am quite confident I can manage my duties and my romance, thank you.” She clears her throat, sitting up a little straighter. You roll your eyes dramatically at her, “I’ll admit he’s handsome, is that what you wanted?” Her lips stretch into a menacing smile, and it scares you a little how unlike her it looks across her face. “It’s a start. Now I only must get you to agree to a date with him,” she tells you honestly. You laugh at her boldness. She’s always been a terrifyingly smart tactician. She must be, to be the Lady of the Palace, and she runs the place with a kind but firm fist. You smile fondly at her because she’s your friend and you enjoy the relationship you two have as the most influential women in the palace. With her mind and knowledge of how to run a kingdom and your and power and leadership in war, you make a powerful combination. _________________________________________________ Uncertain whether it was the wine or your scuffed pride you ultimately, reluctantly, agreed to go on one outing- not a date- with the Kennel Master of the palace, along with your friend and her lover. In this moment, two evenings later, you feel strange as you walk back to the palace in silence. Two pairs of boots in unmatched pace walking along the wet road beneath the lamplight. It is hot and muggy and the dress you’re wearing is irritatingly itchy. Of course your dear, lovely, well-mannered and closest friend decided to go back to the Bakery with Junmyeon when you mentioned the hour and that you were leaving for a mission in the morning. Kindly, Sehun had agreed to walk you back. It is with a sigh of relief that the palace walls come into view. You cross under the iron gate in silence, turning to acknowledge the man giving you six feet of space. “Look, Sehun,” you begin with your best smile. He removes one of his hands from the pockets of his trousers, holding the palm flat up and smiling so hard that his eyes crinkle into half-moons and his cheeks dimple, “It’s okay, Y/N.” He laughs after, rubbing the same hand against the back of his neck and looking toward the ground. His hair is slicked back from his forehead, a style that compliments his features. “You’re very handsome, but I’m sorry, I don’t think I feel that way about you,” you apologize, feeling awkward. He laughs again, and the sound of it makes you feel a little better, “Yeah, I mean, I think you’re really amazing, but I agree. I think we’d be better as friends.” The weight and sticky feeling of the tension dissipates immediately after he says it. “I am happy with friends,” you say. “Half of this is Junmyeon’s fault anyway,” he laughs some more. “Always fussing at me about wanting grandchildren soon.” You laugh with him, aghast at his best friend’s antics. “The Lady pushed me into it, too,” you nod with a smile. “I’m glad we can agree they’re both terrible friends to have.” He looks at your face genuinely, “Guess we’re just going to have to be better friends to each other than they are to us, then, hm?” He steps closer to you to whisper the words, sticking out his pinky to link with yours. Craning your neck up to his face and then back down to his hand, you twist your own small digit around his, shaking them firmly with a small giggle. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he quietly comments, stepping back. You move toward the steps of the palace, sending him the same well wishes for a good night with a wave. He gives you a friendly one in return as he turns and enters the Kennel House. ________________________________________________ Yawning, you reach for your canteen, frowning while you drink sparingly from the bladder of it. You’ve ridden North for nearly twelve hours. Your thighs remind you achingly that the short break you took half way through was not nearly long enough. The map you checked twenty minutes ago told you another two kilometers would put you where you need to be, in a tiny settlement in the Sweetwoods. Although you’ve never seen it with your own eyes, you’ve been told such a name fits the landscape, in a forest surrounded by good soil full of sweet smelling wildflowers. As long as you reach it and make camp before nightfall you won’t be as worried. Nothing a full stomach and a few slim hours of sleep can’t fix for you. You’ve certainly fought and survived on worse. Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realize as the sun begins to glow deeper shades of ruby and kiss the horizon. When you notice, it’s because a heavy log gate comes into view, crested between two greater beams that end and begin the sentry walls surrounding the Sweetwoods settlement. Smiling up at the men along the ramparts, you pass through the gates, leading your troop into the small town. There aren’t many buildings or people around, but the working-class people give you odd looks as you go. Sometimes you wonder if it’s because of the troop at large, or if it’s just you in particular. Being a woman in a militant leadership role is not common practice in many places. Raising a hand, you slow everyone to a halt in front of a two story building with a golden ram’s head sign hanging from the banister of the second level. Dismounting your horse, you know this is the right place. The creaking of the door hinges is almost hidden by the sound of the bell chiming upon your entrance. “I’ll be right out!” calls a voice. You note the crates and barrels and packages wrapped in fabrics and chord in the center of the room. The barren shelves and cabinets confirm this is the right place. “Ah,” the voice projects, pulling your gaze to the left. “You must be here to fetch me.” A young man stands in the doorway to a small room off the side of the main space, one arm lifting the curtain draped across the threshold as he enters. He pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose and stops in front of you with an outstretched hand. Shaking it, you smile a tad brighter, “Yes, sir. My name is Lieutenant Y/N. I’m here to ensure you and your things make the journey safely.” He nods in understanding, “Wonderful. What is the plan, Lieutenant?” Getting straight to business, you brief him kindly, “Rest tonight. We’ve ridden a whole day’s ride. The soldiers and horses are tired and hungry. We’ll load up your supplies tonight after supper, and head out at dawn.” Smiling, he gestures to the back wall, “There’s space to make camp just around back in the yard. It’s a little small, I hope you won’t mind.” Shaking your head, you agree to his offer, “I’m sure it will do just fine, thank you.” Ten minutes later, you’re hissing as your thighs protest to your position when you finally settle on the ground behind the shop. You ensured the horses were turned out in the grass and your soldiers were settling in for a well-earned supper before you sat down. Someone has started a new fire with the half-burned logs in the pit. Opening your pack, you notice a small bag that hadn’t been there when you’d packed it before passing it off to the stable keep to put on your horse, Fox. With furrowed brows, you inspect it’s contents. There’s a small bit of folded parchment and two delicious looking apples inside the small canvas pouch. There are words scribbled neatly on the parchment. ‘These are Spring Dragon apples. Rare, beautiful and delicious… Please eat well and come back safely. -K.’ Blushing, you shove the note back into your pack and whip your head up wildly out of embarrassment. Someone could have seen! Not only that, but your rising feelings for the sender of this gift pull at your heartstrings. The blow your pride had taken from him forgotten in the wake of his gesture. You remove one from the sack, cradling it in your palm as you watch the fire’s glow glint off the shining skin. Smiling, the first bite is taken gently, with your breath held in your lungs. There’s a refreshing flow of juice into your mouth and the satisfying crack of fruit as it breaks off from the body of the apple. Kyungsoo is right, it is the best apple you’ve ever tasted. The texture, flavor, consistency, all perfect scores as it melts in your mouth with a happy hum. The treat disappears from your fingers all too quickly, leaving you to swipe your tongue across your lips repeatedly to taste the addicting sweetness. ____________________________________________ “If I’m not allowed to leave the bed who is supposed to make sure this buffoon stays out of trouble?” you complain loudly. “Hey!” comes Chanyeol offended cry. Even though he wants to, you know he won’t drop you in retaliation of your comment, clutching you to his side as he helps you walk to a bed in the Medical Ward of the palace. The Head Physician pats the linens of the bed she wants you to sit on, “Relax, it’s just for a few days until the bones begin to set. Better than being gone forever, right?” She smiles softly at you, taking an arm to help the Knight Captain lower you comfortably onto the bed. Scowling, you let her get to work wrapping the bruised and painful flesh as gently as she can. Chanyeol stands back, watching her work with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “I’ll get your stirrups adjusted while you’re in here,” Chanyeol mutters without looking at you. His eyes remain unblinking at your leg- a look you know means he’s very much in his thoughts. “Chanyeol it’s fine, don’t worry about-“ you protest quietly. “Absolutely not,” he commands. “I’m not going to risk your leg getting caught again. This could have been so much worse. What if Fox didn’t just spook, hm? What if he threw you off and then dragged you for who knows how long?” “War horses are trained not to do that. I’d have been fi-“ you wave at him nonchalantly, but the flare of his anger makes you flinch. There’s a reason he’s compared to both fire and a monster. “That horse is lucky,” he growls. Frowning, you reach for him and squeeze his forearm when the pain gets a little too intense, wincing. “Please leave Fox alone. It’s not his fault,” you groan. Your commander makes a disapproving clicking sound with his teeth, scoffing at you, “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that, woman?” At least his eyes finally find yours. “Don’t you take that tone with me,” you snap back at him playfully. Just like that you start bickering with him, forgetting about the pain in your leg until the Head Physician stands and sighs, brushing her hands off on her apron. “That’ll do you well for now. Please, Y/N, stay put, yeah?” she asks with a small smile. “I’ll make sure someone brings her something to eat,” Chanyeol comments, turning to leave the room with a nod. His disappears beyond the white curtain draped between your bed and the next. “Just for three days, until the bones start setting. Then we’ll change it and get you set up for light duty only,” she warns you, holding up her index finger between you. Waving dismissively, you shimmy yourself further up the bed and twist, smacking the flat pillow loudly with a sigh, “Fine, yes, yes.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at you as she considers if you will behave. After a breath, she leaves. Minutes pass in the quiet warmth of the Ward, listening to the quiet groans of other sick and wounded people lying behind curtains in the wide room. Eventually, the door opens and footsteps are heard evenly across the floorboards. Waiting patiently, you’re surprised to see the separation reveal Kyungsoo. He has a plate held between his hands, smiling at you. He shakes his head gently and clicks his tongue at you, “I thought I asked you to come back safely. What part of that meant you should get thrown from your horse?” You grin, raising a hand and wanting to smack him. You don’t, lest he spill all of the food you assume he brought for you. He grins back at you, pulling a stool close to the side of the bed. “Are you hungry?” he asks quietly, balancing the plate on the edge. You try your best to scoot closer to the far side, giving him space to rest the plate beside you. “I am, thank you,” you confirm. He tries not to watch you eat, silently waiting for you to finish the meal. “It’s nothing new this time, sorry,” he apologizes quietly. His hands fidget in his lap as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. “No, this is great,” you assure, raising the last forkful to your lips. Kyungsoo clears his throat, “Can I ask you something?” Blinking at him, you’re a little confused, acquiescing, “What is it?” He turns to face you fully with a hard and thoughtful expression on his face, “Are you and the Kennel Master… seeing each other?” You don’t mean to laugh, but the unexpected question doesn’t give you time to think about your answer as you burst forth in laughter. Kyungsoo only looks at you with wide, confused eyes. “Heavens, no!” you shake your head. “I mean our friends tried to make us date but we’re just friends,” you clarify.

“But he thinks you’re amazing and I thought I saw you with him and-“ the man in front of you questions, clearly befuddled.

You wave your hands in front of you, “Yeah but we both agreed we’re just better as friends. I don’t feel that way about him.”

Kyungsoo’s brows furrow deeper, and his eyes focus on the linens of your bed momentarily before he asks instead, “Is there someone you

do

feel that way about?”

His bold curiosity heats your cheeks and you find yourself unable to speak. Rather, you nod lowly and stare at the last item of food on the plate, an apple. With shining skin, all of the shades between red and gold seemingly painted on with a brush, it is unmistakably the same as the ones he gave you for the mission you just came from.

“Spring Dragon…” you whisper between you, taking the fruit between your fingers and twirling it around to admire how pretty it looks.

Kyungsoo smiles at you, “Did you like them?”

Your eyes light up at his question. “Yes, they’re perfect! Thank you so much for sending them with me. It was a nice surprise,” you praise, pressing your lips to the skin just before you take the first bite.

You practically moan at the taste, choosing to sigh wistfully at the pleasure it brings.

The man beside you chuckles, “Is it really that good?”

Fixing him a stare with one brow turned up, you confirm, “Of course!” adding sarcastically, “Have you never eaten one of these?”

To your shock, he shakes his head, “No, actually I haven’t.”

Gaping at him, you flounder for words, feeling embarrassed and shameful that you’re enjoying his gift like this, “Why not?!” You place the apple back on the plate.

“They’re rare. I don’t have any more,” he comments matter-of-factly.

Curiously, you need to know, “You gave them all to me?”

He nods with a small smile tucked into the corner of his plush lips.

“Please have a taste,” you tell him, looking back down to the apple resting between you. You reach for it, intent on giving it to him, but his fingers circle your wrist to stop you.

When you raise your head to look at him, you’re met with a kiss. One that is unexpected but pleasant and sweet. Kyungsoo moves his lips against yours slowly, truly sampling the flavor of them before pulling away.

You do nothing more than stare at him in shock as he settles back on the stool. There’s a self-satisfied smile gracing those lips that were just pressed deliciously against yours.

“Very sweet,” he surmises gently.

Your fidget with your fingers in your lap, “Why?”

He laughs quietly at your expression and your heart thunders in your ears at how wonderful this image of him makes you feel. “You asked me to have a taste,” he says simply.

Suddenly your heart feels so light it makes it hard to breathe. You need to feel it wildly beating against your sternum, so you do the one thing you know will make it do what you need.

Reaching out, you pull Kyungsoo by the front of his tunic back to you. You plant your lips directly on his, feeling him smile against your mouth as his hand finds your neck.

____________________________________________

It isn’t until two weeks later that Chanyeol finally mentions anything about you and the Head Cook, Kyungsoo. He’s seen you two or three times in the kitchens when he’s come to beg for snacks or see if his own lover is present, but you’ve always been a respectable distance away from Kyungsoo’s grasp.

You suppose it’s easy to break apart from the nectar of his lips when you hear those heavy footfalls and clinking armor growing closer, but that’s not something you’re going to point out to your Knight Captain, either.

“That looks delicious… why did you get something different?” he groans beside you, frowning at his own plate of equally delicious food. It just looks different.

You laugh at him, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Feigning ignorance, you take a mouthful with closed eyes and a quiet hum of happiness, half way finished already.

When you open them again, Chanyeol is still staring at you, but his fork stabs around the contents on his plate, “No fair… Kyungsoo is playing favorites.”

Although you still have to look up to see his face, you do your best to stick your nose up at him. “Perhaps it is merely thanks for not coming and distracting his assistant every waking hour of the day,” you comment smugly.

He gapes, resting a heavy elbow on the table and motioning towards the kitchens with his now empty fork and a cheek stuffed with food, “You’re worse! You go and distract the Master himself!”

Swallowing your last bite, you lean in close to whisper, “Oh I do a lot more than distract him, Knight Captain.”

You don’t turn around to see the shocked expression on his face when you excuse yourself from the table immediately after, wearing a saccharine smile. All you can tell is that he doesn’t move for a very long time.

[bonesaldente]

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 14: The Survival

Final Chapter of Part I

(see notes at the end for more)

ao3

previous chapter

chapter overview

words: ~3200

____

The morning air is chilly on your bare arms. Elbows leaning on the balustrade, you stare at the masses of water. They’re constantly in motion, never in one place for too long, yet still essentially the same wherever they are.

You never held much love for your guild, not for the people part of it and not for what they made you - a killer, cold, but not cold-blooded enough to not care. Dangerous enough for people to be wary of you, but not menacing enough to command people. You hold power, but only over yourself, and even that doesn’t seem to be yours entirely.

No, you don’t like the guild, but you can't imagine a life outside of the path they chose for you; there is not much you’re good at outside of fighting and murdering. Whatever you do, you always seem to revert to the same old ways.

“What’s on your mind?”

You didn’t hear Maul join you on the balcony, but seeing him stand next to you from the corner of your eye pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Just thinking. Lots of ‘What ifs’, nothing worth mentioning.”

He hums quietly.

“I sometimes wonder what would have been if I hadn’t been made what I am now. If I had been born free.”

It’s easier to talk like this when you are able to just stare off into the distance, not having to face anyone.

He doesn’t stop you, so you keep talking.

“Maybe I would be a bounty hunter. Live on my own terms, don’t rely on authorities but do things myself.”

“It would fit your skills,” he agrees.

You shrug. “Maybe in another life. I am with you now, and I intend on staying. That is,” you face him, “as long as you want me to.”

“Do you truly still question that?” The corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile.

“I’m just making sure,” you mumble. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do if I were alone. This galaxy is too big to travel on your own.”

He looks at the sky in thought, blinking slowly.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

*

Morning came around faster than you expected it to. A service droid knocked on your door to drop off trays with food shortly after the sunset, delivering the first real food you’ve had in weeks.

It’s strangely casual to eat at that table with Maul; it doesn’t feel like you two are currently taking over a system, while also waging a war against the Jedi.

“I don’t like the Naboo… but their fruit is good,” you admit while the sweetness fills your mouth.

“Is it?”

“Try it,” you push your plate over to him, but he pushes it back without taking a piece.

“My species is carnivorous,” he explains, exposing his prominent canines to illustrate his point.

“Huh,” you tilt your head. How come you didn’t know that?

“You’re missing out, then.”

His nose crunches up in disgust. “It doesn’t seem all that appealing.”

When he moves his face like that, the black inking on his nose gives him a very youthful look, and you have the terrible urge to boop his nose.

Where are those thoughts coming from all of a sudden?

You just shake your head, proceeding to munch on the vast array of fruit, perfectly content with your choice of food.

“Gunray expects us in an hour for another briefing. We will then wait for my master to give us more intel on the plan of the queen, then we will come up with a strategy. It is likely we will have another encounter with her and her protectors soon.”

You sigh quietly, already dreading the moment you have to let him walk into a duel again. “Yeah.”

You just hope it won’t be so soon.

*

“We are sending all troops to meet this army assembling near the swamp. It appears to be made up of primitives.”

The blue hologram sways with the movement of the droid projecting it into the air.

“This will work to our advantage,” Lord Sidious remarks.

“I have your approval to proceed, then, my Lord?” The Neimoidian sounds nervous, not just because of your and Maul’s presence anymore, but also because of the hooded man speaking to him. You can’t blame him; Sidious gives you, too, a queasy feeling in your stomach.

“Wipe them out,” Sidious orders. “All of them.”

The transmission ends, and with it the tenseness in your muscles.

“They will try to use the battle as a diversion,” Maul points out.

“We shall prepare droid forces in the palace and ready ourselves for a possible ambush,” Gunray agrees, bowing to him. “And we can monitor the situation in the palace from the surveillance room.”

He leads the way along with his lieutenant, Maul and you following with a distance.

“He is concerned for his personal safety,” Maul murmurs, so that only you can hear it. “He fears they will capture him and hold him accountable.”

You lean in but don’t take your eyes off the billowing robes of the green skinned politician.

“He does seem like a coward.”

You barely manage to suppress a yelp when suddenly, he grabs your arm and pulls you behind a pillar, hidden from the view of the two oblivious men still walking.

His lips clash into yours with an urgency you can’t quite comprehend, while he pushes you into the stone of the pillar.

The surprise at his sudden display of affection hardly gives you time to enjoy it, and he pulls away much too fast.

“I… just got a feeling,” his eyes look troubled.

“A force-feeling?” You inquire, already knowing the answer.

A small nod confirms your guess.

“Should I be worried?”

He scans your face for a second.

“You already are. But no, you should not,”

“Well,” looking over his shoulder, you see the men have almost rounded the next corner, “I think we need to catch up with our green friends.”

He nods, but doesn’t pull away from you for another moment, something else hiding behind his glowing eyes, something you’re not sure you want to understand.

Everything is going to be alright. It has to.

*

“I thought the battle was going to take place far from here. This is too close!”

Your eyes are glued to the screen, which has just changed to an overview over the yard, where blasterfire can be heard from a distance, tanks smoking and exploding.

You track the movement of the attackers, trying to anticipate their next destination. Until now, the Jedi have been mowing through the droids as if it were nothing, slowly and steadily bringing down the palace’s defenses. The group of politicians in the room is growing anxious, and rightfully so.

“The hangar,” you finally pipe up, watching the men pile through an entrance on the west side. “They are headed for the hangar!”

“If they get a hold of the starfighters they could issue an attack on the droid control ship and shut down our army!” The viceroy exclaims, dread lacing his voice.

“We must move now.” Maul decides. “Focus your forces on the hangar.”

“But they do nothing against the Jedi, as long as-”

“I will take care of the Jedi.”

So this is it.

Secretly, you have been hoping the droids would be enough to finish the Jedi. A foolish, naive wish, but still, there is disappointment swirling in your blend of emotions.

“We should evacuate this room… To the throne room!” the lieutenant suggests, watching as another tank blows up.

The mood in the surveillance room shifts - the politicians didn’t expect to get caught up in an actual battle when they came here.

“I will stay here,” you quietly notify Maul.

It’s the only way I can still watch over you, remains unsaid.

The doors open and the people start to crowd out, Maul following last, waiting until the last man has turned his back to you two. Again, something is in the air, something that he is sensing but not telling you.

“See you in a bit?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” His gloved hand brings you into his chest, your ear right over his jugular where you hear his steady pulse. The sound of life. You wish you would never hear anything else again. One hand holds your head close, the other intertwines your fingers briefly.

“Yes,” he repeats, with more resolve this time around.

It physically pains you when you have to let go, but you both know that you have to.

You keep yourself from watching his retreating form, telling yourself that you are overreacting and imagining a goodbye where there is only a “see you later”.

You click through the holocam views until you have found a good view on the hangar.

A full on shootout is happening, and several starfighters have already taken off. Droids are falling left and right, cut in half or hit by a deflected blaster bolt.

There is no sound, but it is clear they are speaking to each other now, planning their next steps. They start moving to the gate, but when it opens, it reveals none other than… Maul.

Looking as menacing as the first time you met him, he makes the group freeze in place. Your fingers tremble, knowing that a fight for life and death is about to start.

So much to lose… and what is to win? For you, it doesn’t matter if the Trade Federation will be able to have some kind of treaty with Naboo. You don’t even care if there will be two Jedi less to travel the galaxy; All you really want is for Maul to make it out of there alive.

The people surrounding the Jedi run through a smaller exit on the side, but it’s obvious that Maul is far past caring about anything other than the two targets before him. He removes his hood and drops his robe at the same time that the Jedi do, not once looking away from them. Even through a low resolution, flickering screen, the tension is evident.

With a practiced twirl, Maul ignites first one end of his red lightsaber, then the other, balancing it in front of his body.

The two Jedi follow his example and present their blue and green blades.

For a moment, it’s as if time stands still, the only indication of its progress your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

And then, the duel begins.

You wince, unable to breathe while watching the flurry of blue, green and red. They move much too fast for you to follow with your eyes, yet you can’t peel your eyes off the screen. It feels as though even blinking will cause you to miss something, and you can’t, you cannot miss even a second of this fight. What if he gets injured, or worse, while you’re not looking?

The duel moves closer to the generator complex. You watch the men balance and jump over narrow catwalks: A drop from this height would be deadly, and that’s without two men with lightsabers viciously attacking you.

You suck in a sharp breath when Maul manages to catapult the Jedi who looks like what they call a ‘padawan’ over the edge with a kick behind his back.

For the fraction of a second, you take your eyes off your lover and instead watch the blond man fall, huffing in disappointment when he manages to hold on to a ledge.

The next moment, Maul himself is sent flying, fortunately landing on a lower catwalk. He narrowly blocks the next attacks while still on his back, and you heave out a sigh of relief when he is back on his feet, out of the vulnerable position.

They get closer to the edge of what the holocam can capture, and you fumble with the keypad for a few seconds to get a better view.

When the different angle appears, everything is tinted red. It takes you a minute to understand that you’re looking at red force fields that separate the power generator room from the rest of the palace. Maul and the Jedi are on different sides of the fields, putting a pause on the intense fight. The Jedi master is meditating, while your Sith is pacing up and down like a wild animal, like a predator.

They must feel a change in the force, because simultaneously, they ignite their sabers again, just seconds before the force fields retract row by row. Immediately, the Jedi master is back on Maul, both of them moving backwards, inching closer to another deep drop, something that looks like a reactor shaft.

The padawan is once again separated by a force field, shuffling to a halt right before it closes. Both of you are stuck watching your partners fight; and what a fight it is. The exchange is faster than ever this time, yet everything seems to slow down to slow motion when Maul stuns the Jedi by knocking the handle of his lightsaber against the man’s head, then rams the blade right through his chest.

Your entire body relaxes in your seat. Just one more to go, this shouldn’t be a problem. Everything is going to be alright now. He has killed one of them, all that’s left is the padawan. Yeah, this won’t be a challenge. You’ll be reunited in no time and-

The field retracts once more and like a beast set loose, the padawan charges at Maul. It is an incredibly fast paced fight, faster than with the master, so fast that you have to force your eyes to focus on the spectacle.

A small gasp escapes you when his lightsaber is cut in half, one half flying off to the side, the other remaining in his hand when he is pushed on his back again.

“Get up, get up,” you mumble, watching as the padawan flips over him. Maul, of course, jumps back up before the other man can land any strikes, elegantly evading his attacks.

Their sabers clash, interlocking for a second, then Maul pushes the padawan back, using the force to shove him over the edge, sending him falling a few feet down the shaft, where he just barely manages to hold on to a pipe.

From your angle, the ground partially obscures your vision on the man, but an early sense of victory fills you. Now, you two will be able to leave and make your own decisions. You’ve proven your worth, and now-

Your skin feels numb.

You are still breathing, but there is no oxygen reaching your lungs. Reality seems so far away, so disconnected, as you stare. You stare and watch the Jedi padawan leap, summoning his master’s abandoned lightsaber, flying over Maul’s head.

And then, suddenly, Maul is falling.

Your body goes cold, then hot, then back to cold, bile rising up your throat.

A shaking hand clasps over your mouth, and it’s only then that you realize that your entire body is shaking.

Your vision blurs, all you can see is the padawan running to the body of his master, crouching down next to it.

Maul is just… gone. Disappeared, down the reactor shaft. How could this happen?

It’s not true, it’s not true, he can’t die, it can’t be,-

Trembling, your breaths coming out short, accompanied by a desperate sob, your fingers find the keypad again, and you rewind the footage. You have to see it again, you just have to, despite already knowing what’s coming.

The padawan jumps, Maul turns, the green blade slices right through his stomach.

You rewind again, and the same footage plays out in front of your eyes.

You rewind again, and again, until the images are burned into the back of your head. When you bury your face in your hands, instead of darkness, the same images welcome you. There is no escape from your emotions, but you still try.

 You don’t know where you’re going, all you know is that you need to get away. The sounds of blasterfire still echo in the corridors, but they are far away.

You wish they were here.

You wish you weren’t alone.

Passing a statue that looks familiar, your sense of orientation returns to you. If you turn left here, you should reach the hangar.

But do you really want to? Can you?

No, you can’t. You’ll break down, that much is certain, but do you have a choice? Could you live with yourself, not having gone to look with your own two eyes?

You pass multiple piles of droid remains, and some dead bodies clad in the maroon color of the Naboo guard, which does little to soothe your sorrow.

The hangar, too, is deserted, and you head straight for the high gate that you watched the men disappear through just minutes ago. Before everything changed.

The gate opens after you press a button on the control panel and you fall into a sprint to the generator. There is a glimmer of stupid, unreasonable, unjustified hope in you still, and the closer you get to the scene, the faster you run.

You round a corner and immediately crash into someone, stumbling backwards and barely catching yourself before falling.

Your jaw drops.

The man before your eyes is the Jedi padawan, the one who took everything, the one who killed Maul, staring at you with wide eyes as if he hadn’t just destroyed your life.

Behind him lies the body of his master - he must have dropped it when you ran into him.

He still hasn’t moved, and neither have you. He could kill you, quite easily probably, with as distraught you are. Maybe he should - it certainly would be more pleasant than Darth Sidious deciding to dispose of you. The thought alone sends you into another fit of shivers.

The padawan holds your stare for another moment, then he lifts his master’s body again and staggers past you.

You watch him leave in shock. He is not going to fight you? He is not going to even ask you why you are running towards the reactor? And you? Shouldn’t you at least try to get revenge for what he did? The killer of the one person you loved is right here, and you are letting him get away just like that.

But you are a survivor. You have always been.

And if letting the Jedi get away means you will live to see another day, then so be it. You will survive purely out of spite, and one day, you will get revenge.

You start running again, until the reactor shaft appears in your vision.

And of course he is not there. How would he? You watched him die, how could your desperate mind even let you think he might still be there, alive, hanging on to a pipe just like the Jedi did?

You sink to your knees, the tears running freely now, and you feel so, so alone in the universe.

 You will live, if only to live the days that were taken from him. There is still fire glowing in your chest, and the looming darkness that being alone presents will not be able to extinguish it.

‘Your purpose,’ his voice resounds in your head, ‘is to live.’

When he said that, you thought he meant that you are of no use to the cause if you are dead.

Not, that should he die, you shall live.

 “I will live,” Your whisper echoes through the air, the only answer you get the repetition of your own words, combined with dry sobs from somewhere deep in your chest.

You will live.

_____

So! Angst!! That's always fun :)))

I have already started planning and mapping out my ideas for a part two that's set during the Clone Wars era. I plan on posting a little teaser soon, but the story itself is still going to take some time. Also, my classes are starting again, so I don't know how much time I'm going to have.

I already have so many ideas for things I could do in a part II, and I'm really excited to share them in the near future :)

Thank you to everyone who has read this. It means the world to me when I hear somebody likes what my garbage brain produces.

All comments/messages/asks are welcome anytime, and I’m still going to be active on here <3

Everyone on the tag list: Unless you don’t want me to, I’ll keep tagging you for part II, if that’s ok :)

____

@princessayveke​ @spaghetti-666​ @larawl @noiralei @secretnerd00 @bagpipes606 @zabrak-show @brilliantbutbatty

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

His Blood Runs Gold IV

Percy is a God: Part IV

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

we are products of war

and enemies of peace

we are universes finally standing still

ready, ready, ready

to destroy us all

this time

there is only power baby boy

and i will be brutal.

“Hey,” Jason said faintly, tapping the bubble.

Percy stood from his perch on the rock and waved goodbye to the school of fish he had been talking to. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I haven’t slept that well in months.”

Percy produced an immortal grin at that, “You hungry?”

“Starved, you got any of those cookies?”

“You sure you don’t want a proper meal first?”

“Where are we gonna get a proper meal from? My backpack has some lonely granola bars and possibly a fast over-ripening banana.” His eyes furrowed in confusion.

The God simply smiled, “What do you feel like?”

Jason gave him a look but said, “Breakfast burrito?”

He laughed, flicking his wrist and before the demigod could blink a foil-wrapped cylinder appeared in the bubble.

Mouth hanging open, Jason grabbed the burrito and unwrapped it before staring between the God and his breakfast like his head might explode.

“I promise it’s safe to eat.”

“You can just- you just?” The blonde was at a loss for words.

“Believe it or not, it isn’t really handy now. When I was a demigod, I would have loved to have that neat little trick but these days I don’t need to eat much.”

“Well if nothing else I’m keeping you around for that alone.” Jason mumbled around a mouthful of food.

“So you’re just gonna use me for your own selfish needs?”

“Mhmm it may be nice to use the gods for once, instead of the other way around.”

“Fair enough,” He shrugged, and wondered when he’d stop feeling the blow of that statement, uttered so many times by his friends and former camp-buddies alike.

He knew how they felt, hell he had felt like that once; but since becoming one of those gods it was hard not to feel hollowed out. He knew the half-bloods wouldn’t outright curse them, but Percy still heard all their bitter thoughts, He wasn’t sure if it was because he was the god for demigods that the whispers followed him around like a ringing in his head.

Jason’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“Anyway, thank you for the breakfast,”

“Uh yea no problem. So, I was thinking about the prophecy and the direction of the north star,”

“Yea what about it?”

“We’ve been heading south and if my coordinates are correct, we should reach the equator in a day or two”

“Are you saying we’re headed in the wrong direction?” Blue eyes widened.

“No, I think your direction is good, I do think, however, that the arrow isn’t on land. I think it’s in the ocean just before the equator.”

“Why there?”

“You can only see the north star in the northern hemisphere, after the equator it disappears. The further south you go the lower on the horizon it is, which means at some point it looks like it’s on the horizon or close enough.”

“So, you’re saying the arrow sits underneath the star at its lowest point?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Okay that’s good news.” Jason took a deep breath, raking a hand over his face. “I guess we just wait for night and keep following the star.”

‘Actually…” Percy grinned,

“You have a plan?”

“If we just have to get to the equator, I can take us there now.”

“How would you know when we’re there?”

“I know the coordinates at any time when I’m at sea. Son of Poseidon and all that.”

“Well I’m convinced.” Jason nodded, thoughts fluttering behind his eyes. “How are we doing this?”

“I think it’s time to call in a friend.”

With a low whistle, that defied the laws of nature, because how on earth do you whistle underwater, the God whipped a dazzling smile over his shoulder.

“Do I want to know what you’ve invited to the party?”

“You’ll see.”

Just then the water rushed around them. When the clouds of sand and swirling water disappeared a beautiful, iris-coloured beast revealed itself, along with a cyclops already barreling towards them.

“Brother!”

They slammed into each other and Percy was grateful for his godly bones, because he’s sure his mortal ones wouldn’t have survived that collision.

“Hello Tyson, how are you?” He laughed in relief, in comfort.

“I knew I’d see you. A school of firemouth-killfish passed by and said you were around.”

“Thank you for coming. I’m helping Jason and I need Rainbow’s speed.”

“Of course, brother. What are you doing?”

“Jason has a quest to find Eros’ arrows.”

Finally Tyson looked over Percy’s shoulder to see the demigod still wrapped in a bubble, bobbing behind them.

“Jason. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“Hello Tyson, how are you?”

“I am good. And you are good?”

“Yes thank you. How’s Ella?”

His brother flushed a red as bright as Corallium.

“She is nice, fine.”

Percy decided to put the poor cyclops out of his misery and focus their attention on the mission at hand.

“Rainbow, can you take us where we need to go?”

The hippocampus gave a noise of agreement and brushed its head along Percy’s arm.

“We must be off,” He said, turning to Tyson.

“When will you be back?” A brown eye blinked in question.

“As soon as Love finds us, I guess,” Percy winked.

It was Jason’s turn to blush the colour of coral, but the god was already looking away, turning to hug his brother.

“I will see you soon Tyson.”

“Goodbye Percy,” and with a wave to Jason the cyclops was gone.

“Alright Jas–“

Percy had felt the deepest senses of fear and love and sadness many times, but never in his twenty years of life had he felt such raging, storm-filled anger. For standing behind an oblivious Son of Jupiter, ready to pounce was a sea creature that probably spawned from the depths of Tartarus itself.

It hadn’t noticed the God, or it wouldn’t even have dared come close to this space.

With a light brush against Rainbow’s side, the hippocampus disappeared. He turned fully, focusing on the beast, hiding himself within the folds of the current. He watched as it slithered out it’s tongue in sickening excitement.

“Jackson you were in the middle of saying something?”

He didn’t bother replying as the creature looked up, finally taking notice of everything other than his prey.

“Hello, found something to enjoy?”

“What?” Jason said

“This fight it not with you Percy Jackson,” It gurgled

Before they could take their next breath, the monster swiped its tail through the bubble and slammed Jason to the ocean floor. Something cracked, the demigod did not rise again.

Percy’s smile was sharp and terrifying.

“That,” He laughed, “Was not very smart.”

With a single movement of his fingers he wrenched the water from the monster’s body.

It seized and gasped, flopping about in the air pocket it found itself in.

“The fight is always with me if it involves my friends,” Malice dripped from the God’s lips.

The monster tried to respond, try to splutter and roar but there was no water in its gills. It gasped and writhed, attempting to escape the air.

Percy simply smiled, darkness gleaming in his green eyes, and watched as the Ketos Troias suffocated.

“Jason slayed you when he was fourteen, just a young demigod, but you decided to come back and oh what a horrible mistake that was,” He wondered briefly if he sounded as manic as he felt, and then decided he didn’t care. “Because now, now you have to deal with me, and I will not make it pretty.”

“I will kill you Percy Jackson,” It rasped.

“You can try.” He laughed, and then spat, “And it’s Lord to you.”

Its eyes widened as Percy revealed his godly form, golden light basking him. With a final roar, the monster turned to dust.

He heard a gasp from below and saw Jason finally coming to it, pushing on the walls of the new bubble Percy had formed around him.

“Are you okay?”

“Feel like I’ve been smacked with a ten-ton sledgehammer and I may have a broken rib but otherwise dandy.”

“Oh good, here’s some ambrosia.” He handed a small square to the demigod who nodded in thanks and gobbled it down.

“Was that the Trojan Sea Monster?”

“Yes, seems it was feeling revengeful.”

“Did you send it back to whatever hole it came from?”

The grin that graced his face could kill mortals, “It’s scattered in the deepest depths of Tartarus. It shouldn’t bother you in this lifetime again.”

“Shall we go then?”

Jason stared at him, and grinned back.

-------------------------------------------------------------

One of the strangest things I’ve ever googled was “type of fish off the Liberian coast” because i needed Tyson to be accurate when he told Percy fish had been talking to him. So yes firemouth-killfish do in fact exist and they do reside in the North Atlantic Ocean. Liberia is around where i pictured the two would be at this point. Anyway just some fun fic A/N’s for ya.

How are you guys finding it? Tell me your thoughts because i am inexplicably in love with Dark!Percy and i need to know if others are too????

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@thepersonyourparentswishyouwere @lesbian-peanuts @thegirlwiththegoldenarm @thatis-americas-ass @whatevertakesmyfancy @lucyisblue @lrelikohll @tmifangirl24 @queenkivi @nishlicious-01 @whitelacepants @leydiangelo @urbanpineapplefarmer @queen-of-demons-and-hell

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Mission

While the other students watched the presentation given by the professor and took notes, Ru’Yi rested her chin in her hand and stared out the window.

Her mind was far away on an island, holding sparklers with Tom. She’d run the dream over and over in her head. The feel of the fabric of his T-shirt seemed more like a memory than a dream. He was warm underneath, solid. It wasn’t just an image of him. He was really there. She’d never had such a vivid dream before.

It was a Soul Skill. That’s what she had concluded. But why was that strange boy making them have dreams together? And why did he say he could control them?

She turned her mind back to class. She had just gotten off her unexpected sick leave and was still doing well as a student after penning a make-up essay. 

She’d come here to follow in her father and mother’s footsteps, to be around people like her. Now she was staring at images of a sword forged from a dragonclaw, used to kill dragonkin many centuries ago and her mind drifted back to Tom.

Did she really belong here? She didn’t come to Cassell to kill dragons or fight in a war. She just wanted to study. But every class seemed to include something about dragonslaying. What if she didn’t want to slay dragons? Was that okay? Could she just graduate with a degree?

That reminded her. She hadn’t yet picked her major. She’d strongly considered marine biology… until she found out that half of that class was just studying dragonmorphs, especially how to destroy them.

“Alright, that will end the lecture. If there are no further questions, then I would like you to be able to recite perfectly what we’ve discussed this afternoon,” shouted the professor over the sound of closing books and scraping chairs. “No questions, no mercy!”

Ru’Yi closed her books and put them into her backpack. She followed the rest of the students out of the lecture hall and into the chilly sunshine of late winter. She stopped at the top of the stairs.

There waiting for her was a familiar looking bike and the one riding it -- Brian. Despite the cold, he was still in his typical leather jacket and jeans, once again spurning the school’s official Executive department uniform.

Her back straightened slightly and her mouth turned down.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

A group of girls giggled at her, whispering among themselves. Despite them rarely being seen together, the rumormill had branded them a couple. She didn’t understand why her private life was anyone else’s business. Her self-imposed seclusion had made the school paper because it involved the attack of ‘the blind death servitor’ on campus. The paper had said that Brian had ‘rescued her.’ People were expecting something further out of it, like it was an episode on a TV show. Blushing in embarrassment, Ru’Yi was inclined to refuse. Saying yes would just make the rumors worse.

But at the same time, she didn’t want to refuse for such a petty reason. It would be like letting them win, letting other people dictate who she hung out with.

She didn’t say anything. She trotted down the stairs and got onto his motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his waist. The engine made its signature electronic whine and they were off before anyone could say anything that she could hear. 

The wind turned her ears and nose ice cold within seconds and she tucked her face against his back to keep protect herself against it. The ride wasn’t long. He took her behind the library, riding over the grass to a secluded spot. He rested his foot on the ground and turned to look at her.

Ru’Yi put her hands over her ears to warm them. His eyes widened. “Sorry, you’re cold?”

“Yeah… aren’t you?”

“Let’s go inside then.” He kicked down the stand and got off. They both approached the library’s back door. He swiped his card and opened the door.

Ru’Yi walked in. It appeared to be a storage room filled with mostly books but some objects in boxes marked with different labels. It was musty and she sneezed. He offered her a tissue and she accepted, blowing her nose with a soft honk.

Brian grinned, briefly, but something about it seemed sad. “What’s wrong?” Ru’Yi asked.

“I’m going to be going off campus for a while. I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings.”

“Off campus? You’re leaving?” She lowered the tissue.

“On assignment. I don’t know if I’ll get back.” He shook his head. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Wait… what do you mean if?”

“Uh… I meant to say when I’ll get back. Sorry…”

“Oh. Well… to answer the question, no, I’m not angry at you.” She gathered her tissue and put it in her pocket. “I just don’t understand why all this is happening. It looks like a regular campus but it sounds like a military base.”

“That would be our gear department.” Brian rubbed the back of his head.

“I don’t want to kill anybody. But everything I’m hearing says I have to. I don’t think I belong here.” She twined her hands.

“Not everyone does.” Brian said solemnly.

“But at the same time, I haven’t had to hide who I am. I can be as smart as I want. I’m actually challenged here.” Her eyes brightened. “There’s this other guy who actually gets math problems faster than me. We have a bit of a rivalry now. It’s nice. I don’t want to leave. I’ll be so miserable.”

“Then don’t leave. They can’t make you do anything.” He murmured, his eyes lowered. “You’re S-rank. No one can make you do anything.”

“What does that even mean? People say that but it doesn’t mean anything to me.”

He watched her. “Do you want to tell you the truth?”

“Yeah!” She nodded.

“It means you’re as close as a person will ever be to a goddess.”

Ru’Yi looked at him and then squinted one eye. “Don’t be silly.”

“Do I look like I’m being silly? We’re here to fight dragons. The most powerful creatures in existence. They can bend the laws of nature to their will. You saw what I did at Norton Hall. You’re stronger than that.” He leaned forward slightly. “Your mother was S-ranked too. Her files are completely classified.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, right next to her ear. “Her record includes the death of the Lord of Ocean and Water, a serpent longer than 20 empire state buildings stacked end to end. They recovered its body. It’s frozen in pieces all over the world.”

Ru’Yi stood, stunned and he leaned away, gauging her reaction. “S-rankers are always involved in Dragonslaying in one way or another. It’s just a matter of time.”

Ru’Yi kept silent so Brian continued. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re not upset with me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a 20 dollar bill. “Please give this back to your dad.”

“He gave you 20 dollars? Why?”

“Well… He kinda knocked me in the head. Don’t worry, I deserved it. That’s why I can’t accept the money.”

“You’re all kinds of weird Brian, just be straight with me!”

“Okay… I thought he was an intruder on campus and attacked him. He kicked my butt five ways from Sunday.”

Ru’Yi snorted. “Oh. Was that when he left the letter?”

“Yeah.”

“Dad was… a dragonslayer too.” Ru’Yi said, quiet again.

Brian nodded, then his grey eyes narrowed slightly. 

“What?”

“Your dad is different from other Dragonslayers. I mean, Von Frings is one of the most experienced people and he’s always boasting about his adventures. Mr. Baldwin gets pretty passionate talking about it too. But, Mr. Chu doesn’t. It’s like he didn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Yeah, he never talks about it.” She shrugged. “Neither does mom.”

“Hm… I wonder why that is.”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Is that all you wanted to say to me?”

Brian suddenly looked nervous. “Huh?”

“You just wanted to ask if we were cool?”

“Um… uh…”

Was he blushing? That sudden color to his face was spreading. RuYi's heart started to race. No way. He wouldn’t. The rumors couldn’t be true.

“Yeah… that’s all. I can take you home if you want.” He said, much to her relief.

“Um… No, that’s fine. That’s fine I can go on my own. It's not far from here.” Ru’Yi looked around frantically.

“Door’s that way.” He pointed over her shoulder.

“Right! I’ll see you around.” Ru’Yi hurried to leave the room before he could even think about confessing.

By himself in the storage closet, Brian let the air out of his lungs in a single breath and told himself it was better this way. There was no point in telling her anything now, only for him to leave. He returned to his bike and got on, steering back onto the pavement and heading to the gym to let off some steam.

They say that the S in Dragonslaying didn’t mean the highest rank. It stood for Suicide. The first S rank student in Cassell, killed himself, and S ranked missions would result in the likely death of all involved. The mission he’d received had three S’s attached.

He had the gym to himself. He tied the tape around his hands and slipped on the boxing gloves over them. He’d resigned himself to his fate. Now that he knew that Ru’Yi would remember him fondly and returned the 20 dollars, he could let go.

He drove his hands into the sandbag in a steady rhythm, focusing his mind there. Each swing came faster and faster, until it was a blur of motion. The sandbag twitched and spasmed under the flurry of blows, emitting a fog of dust. Finally, a powerful punch sent it swinging towards the ceiling.

Brians stepped to one side, panting. This was going to be his last act on this Earth. He had to make it count.

But just like the sandbag swaying back into position, his mind returned to Chu Zihang.

He felt a familiar emptiness. That ache and absence in his life that he’d felt ever since the first grade when the other children brought their fathers in for show and tell. He realized he didn’t have one. He asked his mother why he didn't have one.

She explained very simply that it didn’t matter. He didn’t need one. Fathers were just there to provide genetic material. After that, anyone could be a father. Even her. In his child’s brain, it sort of made sense and for the most part, he went along just fine. But as he grew older, the hole in his life seemed to grow.

He couldn’t relate to his mother as much over time. Instead he turned to television and popular media and the internet to answer his questions and satisfy his curiosity. And for a while, that was enough even as bullies made his life miserable in school.

It wasn’t until he met Ru’Yi that he felt that hole again. She sat down beside him and said. “Don’t worry. Daddy’s coming to take us home.”

She had a father. He did not. But for a moment, when she said that, he’d thought she had included him in that statement.

He had spent the entire car ride crying over more than just bullies.

Not only did the ride with Mr. Chu reopen old wounds, later that night, his Dragonblood decided to wake up. He didn’t realize it at the time, but even with the contact lenses covering his golden eyes, Brian was sensitive enough to pick up on the raging power beneath Chu Zihang’s quiet exterior.

He had enrolled in Cassell, only to find Mr. Chu haunting the pages of this place’s lore, only to find himself studying his methods, admiring him. Chu Zihang replaced the internet and the television figures as the man he wanted to aspire to.

They say, “Never meet your heroes.” for a reason. He finally got to meet Chu Zihang man-to-man, but he was completely different from what he expected him to be. Yes, he was strong and fast and intelligent, but his spirit seemed oddly weak. He had no enthusiasm. No fire.

He just seemed sad.

Brian shook himself. He couldn’t focus on this. Regardless of how soft he’d become, the Chu Zihang that he’d studied wouldn’t let himself get sidetracked by outside emotions.

All that mattered was the mission.

While Brian pummeled in worries into the sandbag, Finger Von Frings was on the phone, dialing the same number again and again. “Pick up. Pick up, you lazy bum, I know you’re getting this...”

“Hello?” 

“Mingfei! Finally! Don’t dodge my calls!”

“What? I wasn’t dodging your calls, I was busy!” Said the whiny voice.

“Why all of a sudden are you sending me this mission? This is ... this is extremely dangerous. You of all people should know.” Finger flopped down into the chair that was used by Anjou for decades and reached out towards Adams who obediently had fetched him a beer. “You should know I don’t like it. Why don’t you run this mission yourself?” He took a long sip.

“I know... I know. But don’t worry, I have my own students getting ready to go to. It’s not like I’m sending yours out to fight alone.”

“Your students?” Finger inhaled and started choking.

“Yeah. They’re pretty green, one is still laid up, one is scared of her own shadow and another hates himself. But that never stopped me right?” He laughed.

Finger caught his breath. “This isn’t the time for jokes! I’m not going to be one of those people who sends others out to die!”

“Hey...” Mingfei’s voice softened. “Trust me. I made a promise to Carli that no one would get hurt. But this has to be done. Even though its dangerous.”

“Then why... don’t you do it.” Finger asked, speaking slowly.

“Just trust me. It’s better this way. If things get out of hand, I’ll step in. Okay?”

Finger was quiet for a while, fighting down the emotions rising in his heart. “If one of them dies, it’s on you. You understand that right? The others used to say they understood it... but it didn’t mean anything to them in the end. They just hung their poor student’s pictures in the Hall of Valor and lit candles and looked sad for a while. Only to throw more logs on the fire a few days later.” He snarled into the phone.

“I’ll never forgive them for it. And I’m not going to become them. I’m not, Lu Mingfei.”

Mingfei sighed on the other end. “When you see the results, you’ll understand. But you can hate me for now, if you can’t trust me.”

Finger put his can of beer down. “I’m glad you’re not a complete idiot. How’s the wifey?”

“She’s fine. I’ll tell her you asked.”

“Give her kiss for me?”

“How about no? Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“Work. Now there’s a good joke. Piss off.”

“Bye.”

Finger hung up, took a deep breath, and downed the rest of his beer in a single gulp.

[haphazardlyparked]

a dragon at war

the continuation of this (ancient history) 

Let me show you what I remember.

Again.

*

In the memory, the twitch of yellow silk at the corner of his eye draws Niskaya’s attention. Niskaya doesn’t turn his head—chin high and back straight, he stares towards the nine-pointed sunburst made of yellow glass at the far end of the hall, brilliant with sunlight—but he still sees the quirk of Jinaya’s lips and pays attention to the tell-tale twitches of her skirts. He is the holy prince, and he stands beside the king’s throne, but he does not always listen to the requests brought before him. The king, who is as a father to Niskaya, is usually content so long as Niskaya acts as directed.  

And as the king is his earthly father, then Jinaya is his sister. So Niskaya does not see why he should not indulge the royal heir when she invites him into one of her games. This one had begun a few years ago, when Jinaya reached her fourteenth name-day and was allowed to the Halls of Petition to listen and learn from her father’s rulings. She will be queen after him, with Niskaya by her side, and they will have to listen then… but for now, the king prefers to keep his own counsel, and Niskaya acts accordingly.

In careful, subtle movements, a language of her own, Jinaya’s skirts say, It’s memory! Don’t you have anything more challenging, blessed brother?

Niskaya knows the royal heir—she’s one of the few people he does know—so he hears the teasing endearment in his head when he reads her skirts, and holds in a smile. With a careful twist of hope and will, he draws his power into a wish, and changes the words on the scrap of paper Jinaya has hidden in her sleeve.

A new riddle appears for her. A more difficult one, since that had been the request. Wishes these small are easy to keep from the king’s watchful eye… and is it not within Niskaya’s rights to grant blessings to his own sibling, the royal heir herself?  

With a minute tilt of her head, Jinaya surreptitiously reads the riddle. Yellow silk shifts, sharing the riddle that Niskaya’s power has wrought. His wishes are always like this; the desire comes from Niskaya, but the answer derives from the god, so it is not always Niskaya’s to know or control.

I am a dragon at war, Jinaya’s skirts say. What am I?

Niskaya holds his surprise in as well as he does his smiles. While Jinaya looks thoughtful, considering the potential metaphors and plays on words, Niskaya taps his fingers ever so slightly against the staff he carries. His range of expression is far more limited than what Jinaya can do with her skirts, so his message is slow and careful. 

I do not know, Niskaya admits, and hides his uncertainty. Is this the god’s riddle, one for Niskaya himself? 

Niskaya never sees Jinaya’s response. The king stands suddenly, abruptly blocking her from view, and Niskaya drops his eyes from the bright sunburst window. Staring through sunspots in his vision, he studies two young men who have entered the Halls and brought the king to his feet.

Foreigners.

Niskaya is sure of it. It’s not just their clothes—they both wear trousers and dark coats the gleam with thread-of-gold embroidery, cut like Niskaya has never seen before—but something intangible, a knowledge that must come from the god.

The king knows too. “I see strangers among us,” he says, voice flat.

On his feet, Niskaya’s earthly father stands a head taller than him. With a strong chin, sharp dark eyes, and skin darker than Niskaya’s, he cuts a far more imposing figure in flowing yellow robes. On the king’s other side, Jinaya also rises to her feet, dressed in yellow from her slippers to the silk scarf that binds her halo of dark, tight curls on the top of her head.

“It is a sacred honor, to stand before the Prince,” Jinaya informs the foreigners. She does it kindly, as is her wont, but firmly. When she is queen, the people will worship her. Niskaya does not have to wish this into being. 

One of the foreigners before them straightens at Jinaya’s words, chin rising proudly; Niskaya wonders what words such pride might speak. He’s smaller than his companion, slender and pale-eyed with a deep tan that clearly comes from long days of travel under a bright sun. His voice is crisp and clear when he declares, with a polite bow, “We are no common visitors.”

Niskaya feels a moment’s surprise. His own language rolls easily from this foreigner’s tongue, smoothly accented like any courtier’s—did he do that himself, without meaning it? Had his speculation wrought a wish? 

Then the taller man speaks up, his formal words pronounced with an awkward lack of surety, a student of a foreign tongue. “Your majesties, your holiness, please allow me to make proper presentations.” 

No wish, Niskaya thinks. 

Though it’s hard to tell from the raised dais set several steps above the rest of the hall, Niskaya judges this man to be nearly of height with the king. He’s almost as broad as the king too, with green eyes set in a tanned face framed by loose curls. Instead of looking up to the dais where Niskaya stands with the others, those green eyes stay fixed on his countryman. Perhaps he’s looking for cues, or confirmation that he’s using the right words.

“Forgive my tongue. My prince’s gift is with languages. Mine, now regrettably elsewhere. I learn slowly.” The green-eyed foreigner shrugs with a strange confidence... while freely sharing his weakness.  

Pale eyes blink in surprise, then slide sideways to meet green. The taller man winks cheerfully at his prince with the gift of languages. 

A lie, then? Or simple reassurance? Niskaya doesn’t have time to decide whether all or part or none of what the grinning foreigner has said is true before he continues, slow but understandable with concentration. 

“I present his highness, called Sanokil, a first prince among our people. Prince Sanokil is named for his swaying speeches.” Sanokil bows his head at his introduction, hiding the rest of his surprise from Niskaya’s careful scrutiny. Niskaya thinks he might be pleased. “And I am Akalnai, the prince’s loyal lord.” 

The loyal lord finishes his introduction with a deep, sweeping bow that encompasses his prince along with the king. When he rises, he finally turns his eyes on the dais. 

He speaks truths, Niskaya knows. Something in those dancing eyes tells him they are not all truths. He wonders what Akalnai is named for. 

Prince Sanokil takes up the explanation of where they come from, polite but unmistakably regal. “My... loyal lord and I come from across the mountains, adventurers proving ourselves, and come to you as weary travelers curious about new lands.” 

The king studies the travelers, prince and lord each. Prince Sanokil meets his gaze with a cool self-assurance, and Lord Akalnai stares back with unbridled curiosity. 

And then the king invokes the ritual greetings. “You will answer before the holy prince.”

Neither prince nor lord have a chance to speak. 

“What is the loyal lord Akalnai named for?” 

The first question is Jinaya’s, the same one Niskaya had briefly wondered about. He watches the foreigners intently enough to catch Prince Sanokil’s sudden, small smile.

Only a blind man could miss the loyal lord Akalnai’s flashing grin. “Your majesty,” he addresses Jinaya. Even with slow, awkward words, there’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice, nor the playful light in his eyes. “I am named for my love of shining things.”

Prince Sanokil’s smile twitches. So do Janya’s skirts, though she says nothing aloud. 

He’s amusing, Niskaya reads. When she catches his eye and quirks her lips, he also understands what she doesn’t spell out: I would not mind these visitors.

Niskaya wonders what it would be like to have lord Akalnai’s mischievous eyes dancing about the palace. He wonders what this loyal lord would say if his tongue weren’t guarded by Niskaya’s language, and what might draw a first prince away from his people.

“What business do you have in our kingdom?” the king demands, the second question. He offers no introductions, makes no words of welcome, and it is not for Niskaya nor for Jinaya to make them in his place. Not yet. 

“No business but our own curiosity,” Prince Sanokil supplies smoothly. “Traveling and meeting new people is our joy.”

It’s Niskaya’s turn to ask something, if he chooses.

He does.

“I am a dragon at war.” He speaks slowly and enunciates clearly for the loyal lord’s benefit. “What am I?”

The king’s head jerks to Niskaya, disbelief plain on his face. His eyes narrow, but Niskaya ignores that. The king had surely had been about to speak, certain that Niskaya would not honor foreigners with his words. Now that he has, the king is bound by laws of courtesy: if the foreigners’ answers please Niskaya, the king must offer them hospitality.

Niskaya looks beyond the king’s surprise, to Jinaya’s smile. He likes to make her smile.

The foreigners, meanwhile, confer with each other in their own language. Niskaya knows it is their own language, but as strange sounds and syllables fill the air, meaning fills his mind.

“It must be a riddle,” Prince Sanokil says. “I, a dragon at war, what am I?”

“Very angry and highly dangerous,” Lord Akalnai answers. When Niskaya looks away from Jinaya and back at the foreigners, the loyal lord is smiling politely.

Prince Sanokil frowns and turns sharply towards the dais. “Very powerful?” he offers, showing himself far more diplomatic than his loyal lord. 

Niskaya doesn’t laugh—in the memory.

“They are answers as good as any, and I am pleased,” he decrees. And the king, thus bound, invites the prince and his lord to stay among them.  

“You and yours are as welcome as family, cousin Sanokil from beyond,” Jinaya declares.

*

“Blasted stars in the bloody, blighted sky,” Kalor swore, opening his eyes and reeling. It was a foul oath as old as the oldest dragons. Predictably, Niskaya’s head dropped down to his face, reproach clearly written in his dragons expression. Still, Niskaya’s long neck supported Kalor as he slid down to slump against the dragon.

Kalor laughed. It was a loud laugh, sharp and out of control, and all the while Niskaya’s riddle rang in his head. I am a dragon at war. What am I? Kalna turned and pressed his face into Iska’s scales to muffle himself. A dragon at war. That can’t be a real memory. It can’t.

And why not?

Iska’s voice was like the whisper of silk in Kalna’s mind, and immediately strangled his hysterical laughter.

And why not? Kalna thought. Why not? What did he know about all those lives lived and lost, without Iska’s clear memories? Bloody, blighted stars and blasted skies, he really didn’t want to think about it.

“I stand by my first answer,” Kalna muttered.

The puff of air against his cheek felt of snorted laughter. “I am a dragon at war,” Niskaya repeated. “What am I?”

“Pissed off and extremely dangerous.”

Iska’s eyes narrowed to pleased slits, and he made a show of carefully inspecting a claw. It should have been funny, such studied menace from a baby dragon not much larger than Kalna—one who’d barely ever hunted for himself—yet Kalna’s chest swelled with with awe and an impossible affection that made his insides weightless.

“Yes,” Iska rumbled. In their bond Kalna felt his own emotions mirrored deeply—his love, his devotion... and his fury. “You always have known me best.”  

“I dunno,” Kalna said, suddenly grinning again. “I never would’ve guessed that you’d be the one roaring for vengeance.” 

your notifications have reminded me that i do actually like my characters, so this is for you, @chaos-writing​. thank you <3 

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition

Chapter 61 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3! ~4050 words; read on AO3 instead.

In which Fenris has some existential angst about the state of the Inquisition. As though he wasn’t having enough of that already. I’M SORRY FEN I LOVE YOU

**********************

“‘Dragon’s breath’,” Leliana mused. She smiled faintly and shook her head. “The qunari always enjoy their metaphors.”

“But what does it mean?” Josephine asked tensely. 

Cullen shrugged bad-temperedly. “Who knows? Qunari agents moving through eluvians to attack the south is bad enough already.”

Fenris tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Whatever their plan, it appears that the dead qunari that Leliana found was planted as a warning. A way to advise us of the danger.”

“It seems we have an ally, then,” Leliana said. “Perhaps in the form of this Fen’Harel.”

Fenris pursed his lips. “That is one way to interpret it. But I’m not inclined to trust an ally that lacks a face or a confirmed name. We’ll proceed as though we are unassisted.” 

Leliana nodded. “A prudent choice, Fenris. We should continue to investigate on our own.”

Cullen huffed and folded his arms. “Let’s see the Exalted Council try to disband the Inquisition after we’ve saved them from this ‘dragon’s breath’ plan.”

“We still don’t know what it is!” Josephine said shrilly. “How are we supposed to stop a plan if we have no idea what it is?”

Leliana held out a placating hand. “It’s all right, Josie. Fenris and I will–”

There was a sudden loud knock at the door that made Josephine jump. When Fenris answered it, he was surprised to find Arl Teagan and Cyril de Montfort at the threshold.

“Gentlemen!” Josephine said. She wafted over with her most welcoming smile in place. “What can we do for you?”

Cyril bowed to her. “My apologies, Lady Josephine, but there has been an incident with one of your soldiers.”

Teagan pushed past him and glared at Fenris and Josephine. “How dare you?” he expostulated.  “It was bad enough that the Inquisition chose not to inform the Exalted Council of the qunari corpse. But now your own guards are attacking servants? You have overstepped your bounds!”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. Inquisition guards had attacked the servants? 

Josephine took a step toward Teagan and Cyril. “Gentlemen, I assure you—” 

“I will look into this,” Fenris interrupted. “Thank you.”

Josephine glanced at him in surprise, but Cyril was already bowing to Fenris. “Thank you, Inquisitor. Orlais stands ready to assist the Inquisition, as always.”

Teagan, however, was unappeased. He took a step closer to Fenris. “Secrets and lies,” he hissed. “Do you understand now why we fear your Inquisition? You act as if you’re the solution to every problem! How long before you drag us into another war?”

Cullen stalked over to them. “Now listen here—”

Fenris held up a hand to stop him. “Thank you,” he said firmly to Teagan. “I will deal with this. Excuse us.”

Teagan glared at him, but Fenris stonily returned his stare. Teagan finally turned on his heel and left without another word.

Cyril bowed once more. “Inquisitor. Serrahs,” he said to the advisors, and he sauntered away at a more relaxed pace. 

Fenris closed the door, and Josephine spun on Cullen. “Why are the soldiers attacking Orlesian servants?” she demanded. “We should be keeping our heads down and our noses clean, not acting like the brutes they think we are!”

Cullen folded his arms. “I don’t know what incident they’re referring to, but I’m far more concerned about safety than manners at this point.” 

“Josephine has a point,” Leliana said mildly. “Our job here is not only to protect our people, but to appease theirs. To make them think they are in control so that we can decide the outcome.”

Cullen frowned at her. “Your job was to control the information about that qunari corpse. Why do they know about that?” 

They continued to argue, and Fenris watched them in silence. He was visited by a sudden memory of lying on a pallet in the Frostback Mountains while the three of them argued furiously with Cassandra about what to do after the Haven attack.

He stepped away from them and moved toward the bedroom, and Josephine called out to him. “Fenris, what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed to deal with those soldiers,” he said. 

“A moment, please,” Josephine said. “I am happy to deal with that. You don’t need—” 

He stopped and looked directly at Cullen. “There is no circumstance where soldiers should be attacking servants,” he said. “I don’t care what incident has taken place. It never warrants that.”

Cullen’s face went blank for a moment before creasing with wariness. He bowed his head. “All right,” he said cautiously. “Should I—” 

“You’ll come with me,” he said. He looked at Josephine. “Go soothe Cyril and Teagan. Leliana, you can…” He rubbed his forehead. He was too tired to think of something for her to do.

She folded her hands demurely. “I will be where you need me, Fenris.” 

He didn’t know what that meant, but he couldn’t be bothered to ask. “Good,” he said. He stepped into the bedroom and went over to the armoire to select a coat. 

“Fenris?” Hawke said sleepily.

He turned around. She was sitting up on one elbow and squinting at him. Her sleepy gaze took in the coat in his hand, and her eyes widened. 

She struggled to sit up. “What’s happening? I’ll come–”

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “A minor problem within the palace walls. I’m not going anywhere without you, I swear it.” He kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, Hawke.” 

She grabbed his sleeve as he tried to put on the coat. “I want to help. I’m coming with you.”

He sat on the bed and stroked her neck. “You wish to help me? Stay here and rest. Regain your stamina for the next foray. I need you rested.” He kissed her again, then released her and made his way to the bedroom door. 

“Fenris,” she said sharply.

“Stay here,” he commanded. He closed the bedroom door and followed Cullen out of the suite. 

They were silent as they walked down the palace steps and headed for the artisan’s quarters, and they soon spotted the culprits of the incident in question. An Inquisition soldier was facing off with an Orlesian palace guard, and Rose the messenger was standing over a palace servant, who was sitting on the ground beside a spherical metal cask — the same type of cask used to transport gaatlok. 

Fenris gaped at the cask, then looked at Rose. “Where did that come from?”

She jerked her chin at the servant. “Ask him.”

The servant looked up at Fenris. “I was ordered to bring wine for the guests.”

Rose kicked his hip. “You’re lying.”

The servant flinched, and Fenris glared at Rose. “Do not kick him,” he ordered. “Tell me what happened here.”

Rose held up her hands. “I only asked what he was doing.”

The servant shot her a venomous look. “And when I refused to bow to the Inquisition’s dogs, you attacked me!”

The Inquisition soldier turned to Fenris and bowed. “Inquisitor, the Orlesians tried to take Scout Rose away. We held them off and secured the area.”

The Orlesian guard took an angry step toward him. “This is the Winter Palace!” he snapped. “You cannot simply seize control when one of your scouts has attacked a servant!”

The soldier sneered. “The Inquisition is handling this. When some noble commits a crime of fashion, you can take over.”

The Orlesian guard glared at Fenris and Cullen. “Your soldiers are completely out of control!”

The Inquisition soldier took a threatening step toward him. “No, we’re in control. Keep talking, and you’ll find yourself in chains.”

“Stand down,” Fenris said to the Inquisition soldier.

His eyebrows rose. “Inquisitor?”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. “I said stand down.”

The Inquisition guard saluted him smartly, then settled into an at-ease position. Fenris hunkered down in front of the servant. “Anaan esaam Qun,” he murmured.

The servant’s face blanched, and Fenris sighed. The servant was a qunari spy.  

“Stand up,” he said, and he turned to Rose. “Take him to Leliana. Do not harm him further,” he added sternly. 

Rose’s eyebrows creased, but she nodded and led the servant away. 

“You’re taking our servant into custody?” the Orlesian guard demanded.

“I’m afraid so,” Fenris said firmly. 

The Orlesian’s scowl deepened. “Lord Cyril will be hearing about this,” he said. He gave Cullen a resentful look and marched away. 

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “This handling was clumsy, I will admit, but–”

Fenris interrupted him. “How long have our soldiers been behaving this way?” he said quietly. 

Cullen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This entitlement,” Fenris said. “Acting as though they have the right to make the rules wherever they go. Striking servants who talk back. How long has this been going on?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Cullen said warily.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. “It is an abuse of power,” he said. “That scout kicking a servant so casually, like he was a stray dog in the gutter? There is a reason that servants so often turn to the Qun, and treatment like that is a major part of it.” He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.

Cullen lowered his voice. “Fenris, are you all right?”

Fenris looked up with a frown. “Why do you ask?”

“You have been… very tense since this began,” Cullen said. “Understandably so, but… we’re concerned, that’s all.” His eyes darted very briefly to Fenris’s left hand.

Fenris gritted his teeth. The last thing he needed was for Josephine, Cullen and Leliana to be worrying about him when there was nothing he could do to assuage their worries. He diverted the topic to his other growing concern instead. 

“The behaviour of these soldiers and that scout was unacceptable,” he told Cullen. “It can’t happen again.”

Cullen straightened. “Understood,” he said. Then he shifted awkwardly and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Fenris, may I ask, did you… I know you speak qunari. Were you–” 

“Qunlat,” Fenris corrected. “That is the name of their tongue.”

Cullen nodded. “Were you… did you ever convert to the Qun? Before Kirkwall, that is?”

“No,” Fenris said quietly. “Being forced into a role by those who claim to know better… that is not the life for me, no matter how benign the intent. The poor and the powerless often fall prey to it, however, and I can understand why.”

Cullen nodded thoughtfully. Then Leliana wafted over and bowed her head. “Inquisitor,” she said with a small smile. “Come have a drink with myself and Bull.”

They’ve found something significant, then, he thought. He turned to Cullen. “Secure this barrel,” he said with a wave to the gaatlok cask, and he followed Leliana to a quiet spot beyond the artisan’s quarters that overlooked the valley. 

Bull was waiting by the balcony. He raised an eyebrow as Fenris and Leliana approached. “Gaatlok smuggled into the Winter Palace, huh?”

“So it seems,” Fenris said grimly. He looked between Leliana and Bull. “Do you think this is what the ‘dragon’s breath’ is referring to?”

“Of course,” Leliana said. “A surprise attack, even through the eluvians, would have met fierce resistance. But if everyone at the Exalted Council died in an explosion, the south would be rudderless, vulnerable to attack.” She folded her hands. “This is what Corypheus should have done after the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. An attack as swift and unstoppable as the breath of a dragon.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Red,” Bull said. 

She smiled at him, and Fenris folded his arms. “So now we know their plan,” he said. He eyed Leliana. “You’ll handle any further gaatlok or spies in the Winter Palace, I trust?”

“Right away,” she said with a gracious nod. “I will also send word to my foreign contacts. We must see where else this ‘dragon’ could strike. In the meantime, we have found you a lead.” She looked expectantly at Bull.

Bull held out a note. “That scout found a Qunlat note on the viddathari servant. It says to report to the Viddasala through an eluvian marked by a bookcase.”

Fenris nodded. “All right. Be ready to move out in one hour,” he told Bull. “I want to speak to Cassandra before we go.”

Bull nodded and moved off, but Leliana tilted her head quizzically. “I can advise Cassandra of the situation, Fenris. There’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”

“I want to speak to her of something else,” he said. 

“I understand,” Leliana said. “In that case, please be discreet. Enemies could be watching. Signs of favouritism on Cassandra’s part would be damaging both to her and to us.”

He bit his tongue to control his rising temper, then bowed his head politely to Leliana before taking his leave. She was only trying to be helpful, after all. It wasn’t her fault that he was surrounded by petty, power-scrounging fools who would twist a simple conversation with a friend into grounds for a holy war. 

Sera caught up to him while he was making his way to the Winter Palace. “Why’s our people punching down?” she demanded. “We’re supposed to be the ones punching up, not stepping on the ones already got stepped on!” 

“I know,” he said tiredly. “I—”

“I knew something was weird,” she railed. “I told you, right, but didn’t know it was us. Why is it us? This isn’t – this isn’t what us is supposed to do.” 

He looked at her sadly. Her face was twisted with anger. “I said things were changing, didn’t I?” she said. “I told you things would change. But I didn’t think things was us.”

He rubbed his face. “I know,” he said. “You’re not alone in your disappointment.” 

Her scowl cracked for a split second, and Fenris was reminded of just how young and vulnerable Sera had once been – how young she still was, really, with her ferocity and her determination and her mad sense of joy. And with a pang, he thought of how easily those traits could be wiped away, and how preciously difficult they were to regain when one thought they were lost. 

“‘Us’ is not you,” he told her. “You are not the one who changed here. You are not the one in need of change. You are aware of that?”  

Her face crumpled. She looked away from him and she rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “Yeah, whatever,” she mumbled. “You going to visit the big hat?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Then we’ll be going back to the eluvians.”

She clicked her tongue. “Elf-loovians. Mad stuff, that.”

“I have to agree,” he said dryly. “But you stay here. Watch the servants, and make sure they are safe from harm. Even the qunari ones,” he added. “Keep them from doing harm, of course, but protect them from it too.” 

Her eyes widened. “Protect them from… us?”

“From anyone punching down,” Fenris said quietly. “Rainier can stay as well and help you with this. Tell him that I asked.”

“Right,” Sera said. She eyed Fenris appraisingly for a second. Then she hugged him.

He tensed with surprise, but she released him almost as quickly as she’d embraced him and punched his arm. “You’re still not bad, you. I’m glad we’re friends.” She ran off without another word.

He smiled faintly as he made his way up the palace steps. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door to a small library. A servant answered the door, and her eyes widened as she recognized him.  

He nodded politely. “I would like to speak to Her Holiness, if I may.” 

The servant bowed and stepped back, allowing Fenris to peer into the room. Cassandra was sitting with a group of revered mothers, but as soon as she spotted Fenris at the door, her scowl lessened somewhat. 

She rose to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said to the Chantry mothers. “I have another task to attend.” She gestured for the revered mothers to leave by a side entrance, and once they were gone, she gestured for Fenris to approach.

He nodded his thanks to the servant, then padded over to the table to join Cassandra. “They won’t be angry that you dismissed them abruptly?” 

“They are used to it by now,” Cassandra said. “I frequently excuse myself in order to prevent myself from punching someone.” 

Despite himself, Fenris smiled. “A sound strategy. Can I request that you keep it up? There may or may not be a running bet regarding your… self-control.”

Cassandra’s eyebrows rose, and she barked out a laugh. “Varric. That dwarf.” She shook her head, but her lips were curled in a smirk. 

Fenris took a seat, and Cassandra’s smile melted into concern. “How can I help? Leliana has been informing me about the situation. Did you discover why the qunari are here?”

“Yes, but Leliana can tell you those details,” he said. “That is not why I’m here.” He glanced quickly around the room; the servant had left, and he and Cassandra were alone.

Her forehead creased with worry. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He took a deep breath. “I believe I need to disband the Inquisition.”

Cassandra’s eyes went wide. “Do not say that near Teagan or Cyril unless you want to give them the scent of blood.”

“I know,” he said. “I…” He rubbed his forehead and gave her an apologetic look. “I wanted you to know. I am sorry, Cassandra, I know how much the Inquisition has meant to you…”

She waved impatiently. “Don’t worry about that. Do not worry about me. It is your Inquisition, Fenris. Everything we have achieved would not have been possible without you.”

Unfortunately, this only made him feel worse. If he was responsible for the good that the Inquisition had done, did that not also mean he was responsible for the bad – for the behaviour and entitlement of that soldier and that scout, for instance? 

He sighed heavily, and Cassandra shifted a bit closer to him. “Has something happened? What has prompted this?”

“It was a minor incident,” he said. “A soldier and a scout mistreating a servant. But minor incidents are symptoms of a broader problem. A sign that something has sickened within us, and I didn’t see it until now.” He looked her in the eye. “We had our purpose, Cassandra. We fulfilled that purpose. Corypheus is dead, and the world is well on its way to returning to a state of relative peace. Or it was, prior to this qunari attack. We’ve become… corrupted.” He waved his hand brusquely. “We aren’t fulfilling our purpose anymore. We don’t have the same purpose we had before. I fear what will become of us if we continue.”

Cassandra didn’t reply. Her expression was sad but attentive, and Fenris ran a hand through his hair before going on. “I was going to resign from the Inquisition,” he admitted. “Before the Exalted Council was called.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You were?”

He nodded. “I was in the process of delegating to Josephine and the others when I received your letter calling the Council together. But now I think that simply resigning is not enough. Not if it means leaving behind an organization that is entitled and complacent. I never wanted that. I never…” He trailed off and rubbed his forehead.

“I understand your pain,” Cassandra said softly. “This is how I felt after I learned what the Seekers had once been, compared to what we had become.”

Fenris looked at her in surprise. He should have realized earlier that she had gone through a similar ugly revelation with the Seekers. “Yes. Yes, of course you… of course you understand,” he said. “But you are reforming the Seekers. Trying to reformulate their purpose.”

“Yes,” Cassandra said. “Thanks to your encouragement.”

 His heart sank. “Do you think I should be doing the same? Reforming the Inquisition with a new purpose?”

Cassandra smiled. “I think you should trust what it is in your heart.”

Fenris snorted. “You are giving me advice from a romance novel at a time like this?”

She tsked. “Do not be facetious. I mean this genuinely. You can trust your gut, Fenris. Your instincts are good, and your logic is sound. You know what to do.”

Fenris sighed and looked down at his cursed and tattooed hands. Then Cassandra leaned toward him. “You should know that I was undecided about the Seekers. I was truly unsure if I should let our faction be dissolved, or if I should turn it into something better. Though I still do not know for certain what ‘better’ means.” She leaned back in her chair. “You helped me decide to give the Seekers another chance, but it could easily have gone the other way… and that would not have been a mistake.”

Fenris looked up at her. “So you don’t think that disbanding the Inquisition would be a mistake?”

“There is strength in picking up the mantle of responsibility when a guiding hand is needed,” she said. “But there is also strength in knowing that it is time to let that mantle go. In remembering that tyranny is possible, and being vigilant that you do not fall to such a fate.”

He exhaled slowly, then met her eye. “Thank you, Cassandra,” he said. “I mean that.”

She nodded. “You are welcome, my friend.” 

He gave her a faint smile, then sighed once more. “I should be going. We need to return to the Crossroads.” He rose reluctantly from his chair. 

Cassandra stood as well. “Fenris, if you have need of my sword, you should know I would gladly join you.”

He looked at her in frank surprise. “You can’t do that. The scandal–”

She cut him off. “Scandal or no, this qunari threat is bigger than that. If you would have my sword, I would offer it.”

He hesitated. In truth, he would very much have liked her company. But Josephine would likely have a heart attack if Cassandra left the Exalted Council talks.

“I wish I could accept, but I can’t,” he said with genuine regret. “Josephine is dealing with enough already without the Divine suddenly being absent as well.”

Cassandra frowned but nodded. “I suppose you are right. Still, I know you will prevail in this. You always do.”

And what about after? Fenris thought. Even if – when – they stopped the qunari’s invasion plan, the mark was still buzzing in his palm with its cursed light and spreading pain higher up his arm every time it flared. 

To his horror, a lump began to swell in his throat. He bowed his head quickly to Cassandra and mumbled his thanks, then left the small library and returned to the suite he shared with Hawke.

She was armoured and pacing around the coffee table, and she frowned at him when he entered the room. “Look, I stayed put because you asked me to, but you should know I’m not happy about it.” 

Fenris walked toward her and pulled her close, then kissed her. 

Her lips melted open for him and her hands rose to curl against his chest, and he molded his hand over her hip while he tasted her tongue, trying to soak in every feel and taste and scent of her precious beloved body despite the barrier of her armour. 

He pulled away and gazed lovingly at her kiss-plumped lips and her bright amber eyes. “I love you, Rynne,” he whispered. “I need you to know that.”

Her face twisted with worry, and she stroked his neck. “Of course I know that, you handsome fool. What’s going on? Why are you saying that now?”

“No particular reason,” he said. He kissed her once more, then went to the bedroom to put on his armour. 

She followed him into the bedroom. “It’s going to be all right,” she said firmly. “You know that, right? Everything’s going to be fine.”

He didn’t reply. He wanted so badly for her to be right.

But he couldn’t stop glancing at the sickening green glow of his hand as he strapped on his gear. 

[greatshell-rider]

day twenty-six of quARTine: projection (prompt list)

When Lani focuses very hard, she can do it. Which is good. After two days and nights spent first translating, then studying, and finally memorizing the ancient lizard-skin texts, Lani thinks she ought to at least count as a master, even if the official ritual granting such a title described in the tomes is impossible to perform nowadays, the lindwurms dead and all.

“Do it already,” Jerry grumbles from deeper within the cave. “I was going to take a nap.”

Lani hushes him. Even a master must concentrate. Her back to the entrance, she closes her eyes and lifts her arms, taking up as much space as she can before slowly and precisely bringing her middle fingers to her temples, the rest of her fingers splayed. She waits a moment, running the chants through her mind but not reciting them aloud, yet.

“I think you’re supposed to hum as well,” her brother says snarkily. “You know, like a monk.”

“I am not a monk,” Lani says, and as the silent chant reaches its final lyric, she pushes outward with her mind.

The stunned silence that follows makes her smile, and she opens her eyes to see a line of light extending from the center of her forehead, shooting out to expand into a life-sized figure seemingly standing on the cave ground a few feet before her. Most of its body is a light turquoise, but its eyes are a pale shade of pink, and all of it glows faintly, barely illuminating the dim cave around her.

Jerry stares at it, open-mouthed. Cindy’s eyes are wide. Slowly, ze brings zir necklace up to zir mouth and bites down on one of its many charms.

“That—that’s—” Jerry stammers.

“Lord Empress of the rivers and star,” Lani finishes smugly. “Yeah, no biggie. Watch this.”

Again, she pushes, but doesn’t need so much force, and the regal figure fuzzes briefly. When it steadies, a short, stocky figure wearing a mask is there.

Jerry gasps aloud, and Cindy cocks zir head. Ze points at it, amazed. “The Sun Bandit.”

“The Sun Bandit,” Lani agrees. “And I think . . .”

She closes her eyes and focuses very hard, a different mantra memorized from the tomes cycling silently in her head. This time it’s more like turning a key in its lock with her mind rather than a push, and when she opens her eyes, she’s satisfied to see that the blue and pink has changed to real-life colors. The thread of light stretched between her forehead and the back of the fake bandit’s head is nearly translucent, only noticeable in the light when she shifts. It looks like the treasure-robber is standing in the cave in reality, except it’s unnaturally still. Doesn’t breathe or blink. Because it isn’t real—just, you know, a projected illusion from her brain.

“Can you make it move?” Cindy asks, rising to zir feet to poke curiously at the apparition. The figure fuzzes around zir finger.

Lani shrugs carelessly. “We’ll see.”

“If you can, our plan might actually work.” Jerry’s expression is hungry, greedy, almost scheming, as he also approaches and studies the figure, though he doesn’t go as far as Cindy as to touch it. Which is fair, since the last time he touched a piece of Lani’s magic it threw him across the room in a blast of lightning and put him in a coma for a week. Though the ’scape itself didn’t boast much, she does miss its magic.

Cindy hums appreciatively. “Could do a lot of things.”

Lani can’t stop grinning. They’re so cute. So fascinated with a bit of light trickery, already excitedly discussing cons to be executed and authorities to be duped all thanks to her and her amazing brain. But they didn’t read those lizard books, they haven’t bothered deciphering the secrets of this wild, wondrously baffling ’scape. So caught up in this planet’s little wars and revolutions, its corrupted politics and scheming factions. Cindy even started a fungi garden, growing on the far back cave wall and sprinkled with mountain streamwater daily. So sure of what to do here. The same familiar ritual, the same comforting motions. Almost a schedule. Jerry might as well carry around a monthly planner in his pocket, the way they’ve settled into a routine these past handful of ’scapes. Wasn’t it getting boring?

Lani mentally severs the line connecting her to the illusion, leaving it standing alone and her companions to crowd around ooh-ing and ahh-ing, and turns to walk to the cave’s entrance. She steps out into the sunlight, perched on the narrow ledge serving as their doorstep that cuts off abruptly, the vertical cliff dropping down over a thousand feet. Far below in the valley, Lani can make out two armies camped out just barely outside arrow-range of another. No piling of bodies stains the field between them yet, mostly thanks to her and her companions’ excellent diplomacy and negotiation on both sides—such a splendid combination of bribery, coaxing, warnings, and outright threats. And yet. It’s, apparently, essential to their mission that this conflict ends without bloodshed. But not essential for the mission’s success. In Lani’s opinion.

And again, who is it that read those stinky old texts?

Closing her eyes, Lani brings up yet another chant in her mind, this one shorter but more . . . complex than the ones she used for the illusion. She doesn’t bother to bring her fingers up to her temples—this time, however, she speaks the incantation aloud. A low, murmuring song under her breath that rises and falls like an ocean’s tides, growing louder, faster, fiercer the longer it goes. All the while, she stares intently at the armies below her.

Behind her, the cave falls quiet as her companions notice her. “Lani?” Jerry questions suspiciously. “Cindy has some good ideas for this magic, if you want to hear them.”

A smile curls up her cheeks, but Lani doesn’t stop her chant. She doesn’t blink. She’s as still as her apparition, except for her murmuring lips.

The incantation rises to its final, shrieking crest. Does Jerry yell her name? Does he reach for her? Doesn’t matter.

Lani opens her eyes, and twin laser beams shoot from her pupils, firing into the valley below. One beam for each camp. Both go up in flames. Lani cackles, exhilarated, even as the beams end and fatigue crashes onto her, sending her stumbling back to slump against the cliff wall. Jerry grabs her arm, but stares aghast at the death and chaos that’s exploded down below. Cindy steps out to the edge of the ledge and crouches to look down in silence.

“What did you do?” Jerry says, horrified.

Lani laughs, even as her head reels and her sight shudders, her body going haywire after her spell. Jerry closes his mouth, face tightening in anger, and grips her arm harder. It would be painful if her body wasn’t going numb. “Lani, why did you do that?” he hisses, his face close to hers.

She shakes her head, trying to clear the fuzz in her head and eyes, and wheezes out one last tittering chuckle before her mouth stretches into a wide, exuberant grin she can’t stop, even as she blinks lazily up at her brother. “Thought it would be cool to try out,” she tells him, speech slurring slightly.

He shakes his head, staring down over the cliff again. “We’ve tried so hard to keep them from each others’ throats. We’ve been so careful not to be caught. You—you’ve ruined everything!”

That only makes her smile wider. “Precisely,” she mumbles, her vision beginning to spin and slide, mixing and swirling like her words. Her legs are losing strength; she’s sliding down the wall, arm limp in Jerry’s grasp, and her head begins to nod. But she’s still smiling.

Jerry looks down at her in dismay. “You’ll see,” she promises, but maybe he doesn’t hear. She can barely hear herself over the buzzing in her head. It almost blocks out the screams from the burning armies. Almost. Strange how loud those are, despite the distance. But not too surprising.

“Laser beams, Jerry,” Lani tries to tell him, dragging her last thoughts into coherence before the darkness takes her. How to make him understand? “From my eyes.” Too cool not to try. Far better than any lousy illusion.

And the lizard tomes whisper of yet more. True spells, the type for masters.

Oh, the fun to be had on this ’scape. The thought makes Lani grin, even as she slides into unconsciousness.

[chysgoda]

Resources

Last Dragoon: Tales of the Eighth Umbral Era

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1629

Bel landed on the cliffs overlooking Aynx Trine with soft feet. She looked across the Dravinian forelands, her eyes resting briefly on the woods that hid Tailfeather, on the settlement of the gnath, and finally on Defiant. The home she and other survivors had clawed from the stagnant earth. The fields where they toiled to quicken the soil with vitality. It was easier here than near the city-states where Black Rose had been released, but even with the last seedseer it was a work of years to get where they had and would be many more still. She looked to the churned-up earth outside of her small town, three days ago they had fended of bandits. Three days ago they had lost the husband of the only woman how had become pregnant in the last four years. She removed Estinien’s gale bog from her back so that she could sit on the edge of the cliff. She stared at the churned-up earth where they had fought bandits for their home and she had failed to save one of her own. Her lavender ears fell flat against her skull and here away from where she had to be Ser Bel Aliender the last dragoon she sobbed.

Old Jaren was on gate duty when she returned. The former Temple Knight looked her over noting how her face had been scrubbed almost raw with freezing river water. He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “No leader has ever been spared losing men Ser Aliender. You’ve done well to lose so few.”

Bel gave him a weak smile and reached up to squeeze the back of his hand. “Thank you Ser Jaren.”

“Long Bones is getting restless.” Jaren nodded past the walls into the town. “Best go channel the Lord Commander and get him back on track before he tries to whip up an army.”

Bel grimaced. “I’ll take care of it. Thank you for the warning Jaren.”

Jaren gave her a lazy salute and returned his full attention to his watch. Bel rolled her shoulders back and stood taller than she felt. She strode into Defiant proper and looked around the square. She found the tall Garlean by the storage building frowning deeply to himself. Quick steps carried her over to where Gaius Bealsar stood. “Gaius could I speak with you please?”

She barely waited for the former legatus’s arched eyebrow and nod before turning to walk to the building that housed the communal kitchen and meeting room. At the end of the building opposite the kitchen was the small room where she kept records of Defiant’s day to day running that she may need to refer to later. The office is where she went to and planted herself on one side of the table that currently held her notes on how much seed they’d been able to harvest from last year’s wheat. “I’m concerned about you getting restless.”

Gaius stood straight-backed as he always did, arms lose at his sides and face stoic as he looked down at her raising an eyebrow. “Is this a wellness check Aliender?”

“What are you planning Baelsar?” Bel asked flatly. She placed her hands on her hips.

“We need to remove the root of the bandit problem.” Baelsar frowned and folded his arms over his chest. Chochoba Choba had once pointed out to Bel that the stoic expression Baelsar perpetually wore was a horrible poker face. Pay attention and get to know the man and you could read him like a book.

“How? As soon as one camp is razed there’s another. This isn’t an army or horde of dragons that could be routed.” Bel considered the older man frowning. “Unless you’re thinking of doing a bit of light conquering? An empirette perhaps?”

“And how many of these attacks do you think Defiant can weather Aliender.” Baelsar asked sharply. He moved her records aside to get at the map that was spread out on the table. Bel cocked her head as she watched him.

“Did you go back to Garlamald after the calamity?” The Miqo’te woman asked softly. She watched his hands go still and the muscles in his jaw twitch. “How much was left?”

“Nothing,” Gaius stared down at the map of Dravinia without seeing it. “Wyrmblood and I had tracked the final two factories to the capital itself. By the time we got there the capital was dead, all that was left were scavengers picking over the bones.”

Bel ran a hand through her hair and decided not to press for details on the story. “You know we don’t have the resources for any kind of campaign. There just isn’t the people, food, water, infrastructure, even if it was a good idea. Which it’s not.”

Baelsar glared down at the petite Miqo’te woman. “How many more men do you intend to lose to attacks we could prevent?”

Bel went very still. On her back, the remembered rancor in Estinien’s gale bog called to her. She fought her temper down, better to delay a response than give her temper over as a tool to be used against her. She’d taken notes at the assembly of the House of Lords for Uncle Antoriel a few times before the war with Garlamald, and she’d seen that particular barb wielded against Ser Aymeric. It was a diversion, a trap to get an emotional response without divulging what the reasoning was. She sprung the trap and turned it the way she’d seen Aymeric do. “We would lose men either way. What do you want here Gaius Belsar?”

“Defiant is not secure if we-“

“It will never be secure. We thought the waking sands was secure until Lahabrea brought Liva Sas Junus and her team to abduct those who were useful and kill everyone else. You thought the Castrums and the Praetorium were secure until they were each brought down by an eight-man team during Operation Archon.” She watched the muscle in his jaw twitch again. She decided to press on. “What would you do sort threw those you grind down and send me back any who might be useful tools? Like you planned to send me back to Garlamald so that the empire could have an Elikon Slayer of its own to train up?”

“I did not realize you’d been told about that.” Baelsar’s tone had gone flat.

“Guards tend to think kids are stupid and don’t have ears so they don’t mind their tongues to well.”

“That would explain some of the changes in the scions behavior.” Baelsar took a long breath in and let it out before speaking again. “You’ve obviously been expecting this conversation Aliender.”

“I’m not an idiot Baelsar I knew who I was letting into my town.” Bel didn’t realize the emphasis she’d put on ‘my’ until it had left her lips.

“Then why let me in at all?” Baelsar’s tone grew short.

“Because it’s better to have you inside pissing out than outside pissing in.” The dragoon snapped back.

Baelsar leaned back and blinked at her. “You are very much Latia’s daughter.”

Bel paused for a moment, “That was Mama Mel’s name when she was still with Garlamald? When you and she were….”

“Lovers? Yes, Latia Sas Ursis.” Baelsar arched an amused eyebrow at the blush that colored the young woman’s cheeks. “I didn’t think she’d told anyone her history with Garlamald.”

“She didn’t remember it until just before the Calamity,” Bel said absently as she restored the records she’d been reviewing back to where she had left them on the table.

Before the man could respond an old lalafel woman stepped into the doorway to look over the situation. She nodded satisfied, “Thank you for leaving the door open Bel.”

“Not a problem Chochoba.” Bel smiled at the other woman.

“They’re having trouble with one of the new birds from Tailfeather, you’ll probably want to make sure no one tries to drag tar and feathers through the forest.” Chochoba jerked a thumb in the direction of the stables. She gave Baelsar an unreadable look before moving on to the kitchen.

“Leave the door open?” Baelsar asked sharply.

“Deserved or not you have a reputation,” Bel stated unapologetically. “It costs me nothing to set her mind at ease.”

Baelsar frowned deeply at her, “Your town does not trust me I take it.”

“Not if they remember the Black Wolf well.” Bel shrugged. “Otherwise they’ll take their cue from me.”

Gaius Baelsar folded his arms and considered the young woman carefully. She was just gone twenty summers and the indisputable leader of one of the few settlements left standing. He could see the legacy of her mother’s, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, the Dragoons and Temple Knights of Ishgard, all distilled down into this woman shouldering the burden of more than just Defiant. “There is still the question of defense.”

“We will look over physical defenses and see what can be improved,” Bel Aliender looked down at the table seeing the map without looking at it. “Look at sentry and scouting setups as well, an earlier warning will be most effective.”

Gaius Baelsar nodded. “Reasonable under the circumstances. When would you like to start Aliender?”

“We can grab Jaren and inspect the town itself today then spiral out from there tomorrow.” The young dragoon nodded and motioned to the door.

Baelsar followed her out of the building but paused when they stepped into the sunlight. “They would be proud of what you have built here.”

Bel glanced up at him, for the skin of a moment looking her age when uncertainty and hope flashed in her eyes. It was gone and she was looking over her town within a heartbeat. “I can only hope so.”

[courtofsapphiresandshadows]

Chapter Seventeen- Azriel

Wind tore into Azriel’s leathers as he raced over the Ironcrest war camp, the night sky blending him and his shadows in perfectly. Him and Aegan were out once again, counting Ironcrest’s numbers to see how much the camp had grown. 

Even before, Ironcrest had been large. Now, it was easily the largest camp in the mountains, with the numbers big enough to wipe out any opposition. 

A set of large wings flapped just overhead. “They’ve expanded over the ridge”, Aegan murmured, her own shadows concealing everything but her eyes. “At this rate, they’ll reach the river.” 

Azriel cursed. “Why hasn’t Rhys taken any action?” He asked, moving slightly to let Aegan fly next to him. It was true- the High Lord hadn’t issued an order or even a visit to try to contain Ironcrest’s numbers. “They’ll be out of control soon.” 

She shrugged. “The Night Court is still recovering from the war with the King. I doubt he’d want to ask Keir for help, lest he be faced with opposition.” 

Or worse, Keir helping Ironcrest. She didn’t need to say it, but Azriel knew the two both wondered if Mor’s father would bother siding with Rhys if the two hated each other. “Still, it’s best to act now. Who knows how large they’ll be if they attack?” 

“‘If’? There’s no ‘if’- only when, Az” she commented, glancing at him briefly before looking forward once more. “But I agree- the sooner we act, the better. Has Cassian said anything?” 

The last time he saw his friend, the Commander was stressing over the possibility of a civil war, as they all were. However, Cass was still focused on keeping the peace with the rebellious camp, despite the clear signs that they wanted war with the Night Court. Could he somehow convince Ironcrest to stand down? It was unlikely, as many of the threats were pointed directly at him. 

Azriel sighed. “He, like Rhysand, prefers to wait. It seems like the only one who agrees with me is you.” 

She cocked her head. “What about the rest of the Inner Circle? What are their thoughts?” 

“Mor doesn’t want Keir involved, Amren has mixed feelings about the whole thing, and- He paused, thinking to himself. “Well, I guess Feyre is on our side. She doesn’t like the idea of an army amassing so close to home.” 

“I knew I liked her for a reason” Aegan joked, although her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The wards around Velaris should keep them out, right?” 

He knew what she was really asking. Would Sasha, Nesta and Estelle be safe while she was away? Would Ironcrest take her friends away from her too? 

“Those wards are insanely powerful. Only once have they been broken” he assured, but dread did creep into his gut. Even if Ironcrest didn’t know about Velaris, the Hybern soldiers might, and they had been responsible for shattering the protections around the city. 

Aegan relaxed slightly, but doubt still lingered in her eyes. “All we can do now is hope they remain in these mountains” she commented, as they soared closer to the cabin. “On a brighter note, I think the meat’s done!” 

.

.

The scent of roasted venison wafted into his nose as soon as the front door opened. Immediately, his stomach growled, his mouth salivating as Aegan prepared a plate for both him and herself. 

“Go get cleaned up- dinner will be on the table” she told him, tasting a small bit of meat. She muttered something about needing a certain spice, before waving him away to add the finishing touches. From where he was, he could see the red meat practically falling off of the bone, a few vegetables stirred into the mix. 

Not wanting his dinner taken away, he quickly hurried to his room to get out of his sweaty armor. This was the second day they’d done this- Aegan roasting something for dinner, and Azriel cleaning up afterwards. He learned how to actually slow cook hunks of meat until they were perfectly tender- well, it was supposed to be perfectly tender. The first time the meat had been a bit too well done.

Undoing his belt, he sighed in relief as the cool air brushed against his legs. Even though it was late autumn in the mountains, snow beginning to fall more frequently, his armor still made him sweaty as hell. He definitely needed a bath- one sniff under his armpits confirmed his wonderings. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Aegan called out from the kitchen. “I’m going to eat your serving if you don’t hustle.” 

That was another new thing- the female, after her visit from Sasha, had regained her monstrous appetite. It was a surprise that Azriel still had food in the house, considering how much she ate on a daily basis. 

“Coming!” He shouted back, before tugging on a white shirt and loose pants. Kicking his armor in a corner- he would take care of it later- he then raced towards the kitchen, snatching the plate out of Aegan’s hand. Mother above, Azriel was starving- he had skipped breakfast and lunch by accident.

“Hungry, are you?” Aegan asked teasingly, as she watched him dig in to his meal. She too then shoveled her dinner in her mouth at a ravenous pace. Both of them seemed to ignore any of the manners they might use with more distinguished guests. 

Before Azriel could complement her on her cooking, someone knocked at the door. 

Both Illyrians looked at each other- it was rather comical. He knew sauce was dribbling down his chin, and Aegan’s mouth was stuffed to the gills with meat. 

She swallowed forcely, unsheathing her sword at the same time. No matter what they were doing, she was always armed in some way- hidden daggers, her swords. Azriel was the same- Truthteller was already in his hand by the time Aegan swung open the door. 

Sasha stood outside. “Aegan!” She exclaimed cheerfully, her voice slightly muffled by the black scarf wrapped around her mouth. Stomping her boots on the ground to get rid of the snow, the redhead then embraced his partner tightly, the two females laughing and giggling out of excitement. 

“How are you? How’s Nesta and Estelle?” Aegan asked her, pulling back from their embrace to look at her friend. 

“You’re too cute” Sasha told her, flicking her nose. “Both of them are doing well, and I’ve really been enjoying the food in Velaris.” She then glanced behind Aegan’s shoulder to look at Azriel. “You obviously have been treating her well.” 

Azriel shot her a polite smile. “I don’t know what you did, but she’s been back to her normal, charming self ever since you came.”

Aegan twisted her head, only to stick her tongue out at him- how typical. “Azriel here has been feeding me only the finest cuisine- water soup, stale crackers…” She quipped, smirking at him slightly. Before she could see him roll his eyes, she led Sasha over to the pot of meat. “Speaking of finest cuisine, I made some dinner. Hungry?” 

The redhead nodded furiously, grabbing a plate and giving herself a generous helping. The two females burst into a deep conversation that Azriel had no part in, so he went back to the table, finishing off the remnants of his own dinner. This might’ve been the only thing Aegan could cook, but Cauldron could she cook it well. 

A million papers were scattered across the table- thankfully, none were covered with sauce. Seeing that he really had nothing else to do, he selected one out many, and started to scan over it. Like usual, it was filled with bleak and depressing notes- just looking at it had put a large damper on his mood.

Something poked him in the shoulder. Aegan was looming over him, hands on her hips. “What are you looking at?” 

He leaned back in his chair. “The usual- Ironcrest growing, the chance of the Night Court being ransacked increasing by the day…”

Frowning, she snatched the paper away, much to his protest. He was about to speak out, but one sharp look silenced him instantly. “Take a break, Az. Worry about our impending doom tomorrow.” 

Saying ‘impending doom’ definitely didn’t help. Nevertheless, he pushed back from the table, and stood up from his chair. “Happy?” He asked, his wings flaring slightly in irritation. He didn’t like being interrupted in his work, no matter if it was as dark as the reports in front of him. 

Aegan crossed her arms. “I’m ecstatic at your compliance” she snarked, grinning. “Now come, socialize with me and Sasha. She won’t bite… probably.” 

He heard Sasha scoff. “Stop trying to scare males away from me!”

His partner stuck her tongue out for the second time that night. “Then stop threatening to kill them!” 

Sasha laughed, making her way over to Aegan to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “How can I help it, when they’re all so annoying?” She questioned, winking at Azriel playfully. 

He shrugged, suppressing a smile. “I wish I could disagree, but knowing many males, I must say I agree with you.” 

Aegan grinned, patting him on the back, ever mindful of his wings. “See? I told you she wouldn’t bite.” 

Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes, but he was glad that Aegan had pulled him away from the reports on the table. He had almost forgotten about them and the news they carried…

He felt his mood darken slightly. No, he would not allow them to ruin his night. He did deserve a break, at least for one night- work could wait.

“Anyone want a drink?” He offered, following Aegan’s demand to be social.

A look of surprise washed over Sasha’s face. “You drink?”

“Alcohol?” Aegan asked hopefully.

“Yes, in the back closet” he told her, the blonde cackling as she rushed off. It made him snort. Aegan was passionate about few things- her dog, friends, killing things, and alcohol. “Did you find it?” 

“Yep!” Aegan called out cheerfully. “Man, you have quite the variety of whiskey.”

“Rhys and Cass always give me a bottle for my birthday” he told the two females, reminiscing on fond memories of his best friends- brother practically- taking him out to Rita’s and celebrating his birthday. “I never come around to actually drinking them.”

Sasha’s eyes immediately grew wide. “I almost forgot!” She chirped, reaching in her thick winter coat. A bottle appeared in her hand- it was Spitfire, the infamous drink that just so happened to be Aegan’s favorite liquor. 

He could only eye the amber liquid in mild disdain. “She’ll be happy to see that” he admitted, chuckling slightly. “Where’d you get it?” 

Sasha grinned. “That’s for me to know, and for you to never find out. Hopefully.” 

He heard Aegan’s soft footsteps grow louder and louder as she returned, a bottle of brandy under one arm, and three glass stacked precariously in the other. “I didn’t know which one to pick, so I just grabbed one at random-” 

Aegan’s eyes locked on the bottle. “No way” she whispered, her blue eyes practically glowing with happiness. 

Sasha presented her the whiskey. “For you, darling” she purred, watching as Aegan set down the glasses and whiskey snatched the Spitfire out of her hand greedily. “I know it’s a little early, but-”

“Early for what?” She and Azriel interrupted at the same time, both of them looking at the other in confusion. 

The redhead gave her an exasperated look. “Your birthday? It’s tomorrow?” 

The surprise on her face was enough to make Azriel laugh. “You forgot it was your birthday?” 

Aegan look between the two, sheepish. “I didn’t know the date?” She squeaked, her shoulders hunching slightly. “I lost track of time!” 

Sasha rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips. “Well birthday girl, are you going to enjoy your gift?”

She did not need to be asked twice. Prying the cork off effortlessly, Aegan began pouring the Spitfire into two glasses. “Want some, Azriel?” She asked, beckoning to the only empty glass on the table. 

He shook his head. “No thanks, but I’ll some of my own. Probably should start drinking it before Rhys starts wondering if I’d actually tried it” he lied. Truly, he had no desire to try it- too many times has he seen Illyrian soldiers ruin their health because of it. 

Either Aegan believed him, or she didn’t care, as she didn’t press further, pouring him his own whiskey instead. She passed out the glasses. “Cheers to me, I guess” she joked, lifting her glass in the air.

Azriel clinked his glass with hers, before bringing the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. Immediately, he felt the alcohol warm the back of his throat- perfect for the cold outside. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. He drank sparingly- the 3 day drinking binge with Rhys and Cassian an obvious exception- but he did enjoy the occasional glass of whiskey or wine. 

“You’re really missing out, you know”, Aegan told him from the countertop, where she had chosen to sit. She herself was enjoying the Spitfire- unlike most Illyrians he knew, she seemed completely unaffected by the burning liquor. Inhaling deeply, Azriel watched as licks of fire erupted from her mouth.

“Maybe some other time,” he told her, holding back a wince. The idea of breathing fire was not too appealing to him. 

She merely quirked a brow, before taking another gulp. Sasha was more sensible, and took tiny sips, before looking at him with sudden interest. “So, Azriel, what’s it like being Spymaster?” 

.

.

.

The rest of the night had been filled with conversation, laughter, and plenty of drinking. Plenty of Aegan drinking, that was. At one point, she almost fell off the counter top by how much she was swaying. 

“I am not drunk,” she told them when they asked. “I can still take any of you in a fight!” 

Sasha sighed. “Aegan, you are very drunk. Cauldron, you drank half of the bottle!” 

Azriel let out a low whistle- she really had finished half of the bottle. He was surprised she wasn’t dead with the amount of alcohol she consumed today. 

“Maybe it’s best if you go to bed” he suggested, gripping one of her shoulders to keep her from falling. “Besides, both of us have work tomorrow- hangover isn’t going to help.” 

“Fuck work!” She exclaimed, but leaned into his touch. “Who needs work anyways? You love work, Azzie. Work, work, work.” Giggling, she patted his cheek with a hand. “You’re a good work friend.” 

Azriel and Sasha shared a look. Concern flashed in her dark eyes, before disappearing under a wave of amusement. Both of them then chuckled, much to Aegan’s displeasure. The Illyrian grabbed the cork from the bottle, and chucked it at her friend’s head, only for it to be caught. Sasha let out a loud sigh. “Time for bed,” the redhead demanded, helping Aegan off of the countertop. “You definitely had enough to drink.” 

Aegan only blubbered more nonsense, before leaning heavily Sasha’s shoulder. “Love you!” She told Azriel in a singsong voice, before promptly passing out in her friend’s arms, her wings drooping against the floor.

 This spurred another chuckle from Sasha, who glanced over her shoulder to send a grin at Azriel. “I’ll be right back” she told him, before disappearing into Aegan’s room. 

He shot back the rest of his whiskey, coughing slightly, before cleaning up. He grabbed the cork- Sasha put it back on the table- and capped the Spitfire, taking one last look at the bottle before muttering how careless Aegan had been, a smile on his face. 

A shadow curled around his ear. ‘Movements nearby’ it whispered, other shadows sharing details of a small group of Fae moving fairly close to the cabin. 

His smile fell. “Find out who they are, and report back to me.” 

The shadows fell silent, a group of them swarming out of the cabin. Whatever warmth he was feeling was replaced with ice cold dread. Was this the Hybern Fae Sasha had warned him and Aegan about earlier?

“Sorry I took so long, Aegan’s armor was like a puzzle to take off” Sasha’s voice echoed from beside him, jolting him out of his train of thought. She then paused, looked over him, puzzled. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Azriel released a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m guessing Aegan is still asleep?” 

“Like a baby,” she told him. “Didn’t even wake up when I pulled off her shirt. She’s usually a light sleeper, so this is a first.” 

One shadow came back. It whispered about the group heading to Ironcrest, and not looking for the Spymaster of the Night Court. A blessing, but it only worried Azriel more- they’d find the cabin soon enough. 

He didn’t realize Sasha had been talking to him. She stared up at him, expectantly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem kind of…” She waved her hands in the air, trying to find the right word. “Preoccupied with other thoughts.” 

Azirel pinched the bridge of his nose. “My shadows have just warned me of a group of fae making their way to Ironcrest- Hybern, most likely. We’ll be safe here, but…” He collapsed in a chair, his words failing him. Were they truly safe? Aegan did say that the camp was expanding considerably. It was only a matter of time until some Illyrian bloke would stumble across the two. 

Sasha’s eyes narrowed, the redhead stealing a glance out of the window. “They must’ve just gotten here- before arriving, I swept the perimeter to look for this sort of thing.” The warrior then pulled out two hidden daggers from her boots. “Is it okay if I mingle around here for the night? I’m going to follow them for a while, see if they mention anything useful.”

It wasn’t a good idea for more people to know he was here, but Sasha keeping an eye on that group did ease his mind. “Go ahead. If you need to rest, the couch is always open, and I’m sure Aegan won’t mind sharing her bed.” 

She scoffed. “I’d never sleep with her- she thrashes” she told him, a grin on her face. “Thanks, though.” 

“For the couch?” 

“For watching Aegan for me.” She glanced back towards her friend’s room, where Aegan no doubt was snoring peacefully. “I hated you for a while, you know. For Aegan’s past condition” she admitted, guilt flashing through her eyes. “She was so miserable, I immediately assumed that you neglecting her on purpose. But, once I came to visit her, I saw that it wasn’t you to blame.” 

Azriel frowned. “It was my fault, if only partially. I should've never agreed to separate her from Nesta and Estelle” he told her, looking down. “Speaking of which, I know you’ve been training them- Aegan’s been meaning to thank you for that.” 

Sasha merely smiled softly. “She worries a lot, you know? About her friends” she told him, before winnowing away, leaving him alone in the kitchen. 

A/N-  Just popping in to say hi! I hope you like this chapter- it was all happy and stuff!! But don’t worry, everything goes downhill from here :D (Also, 500 people are following this fanfic?! I have no words- thank every single one of you!!!! I love you all!)

@callie-bear15

@thisgryffindorlllyrian

@nestaarcheronwillkillme

@dreamworld-1997

@rairrai

@deezrmuhsheeple​

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[ariannjs]

SARADA’S QUESTIONS | A SasuSaku FanFic (One Shot)

"I'm home." Sarada announced with a sigh after an exhausting mission that she almost thought would never end. But something made her smile the moment she reached their dining area. "That smells nice, mama!"

"Welcome home! Ah, thank you!" Sakura glanced over her shoulder, grinning proudly while stirring the dish she was cooking, until she noticed how tired her daughter was. "Just rest for a bit while I'm preparing dinner, Sarada. Seems like you didn’t like today’s mission, huh?"

"Oh, right!" The Uchiha daughter plopped into the dining chair with a grunt, not wanting to discuss further about Team 7’s cat-related mission. She pursed her lips and put her hands together on the table until her curiosity kicked in just like many times before. "Mama?" "Hmm?" "Uh, when you were still a genin, how would you describe papa?"

"Huh?" Sakura chuckled in surprise. Every time her daughter asks about Sasuke, it makes her feel giddy on the inside, albeit a little nervous too. "Well, let me think...your papa's pretty much expressionless most of the time, but I think you already know that by now."

Sarada only scoffed, and Sakura couldn’t help but laugh once more at the vivid reminder that her daughter is actually a lot like Sasuke. A small smile appeared on Sakura’s lips. "But I've always known that deep within him is a caring and loving man. He's the kind of man who would do anything to protect the ones he loves and cares for. That's why he's that strong, you know? He did everything to improve and be stronger than he was so he could protect this whole village, including you and me." She sighed, remembering a mixture of both positive and negative memories involving Sasuke when they were younger. Her husband might have made so many wrong decisions back then, but she's sure that he has learned from all that. "You're right, mama. He's so strong, shannaro!" Sarada pondered about the times she had the rare opportunity of seeing her dad fight with Shin, Kinshiki and Momoshiki. He didn't mind being hurt just so he could save her, her mom, and even the whole Konoha. Her heart fluttered with pride. Even with the strength of Lord Seventh, there are some things that only her dad can do. No wonder why even Boruto's too amazed with him. "So, you two were talking about me?" Someone suddenly butted in, startling the two ladies who seemed to be very engrossed with their conversation. "Papa!" Sarada gasped and rushed to hug her dad. “Welcome back! We didn’t know you’re coming!”

"I was in the area.”

Sakura chuckled. "Welcome home, Anata! As usual, Sarada's asking about you."

Sarada sheepishly pulled away, afraid of her father’s response. But when he didn’t react negatively, she grinned expectantly at her dad and asked his side this time, "How about you, papa? How would you describe mama?" She knew that he doesn't usually talk much in detail, but she likes it when he talks about her mom even the slightest bit.

Sasuke sighed with a small smile hinting on his lips as he sat on the chair beside Sarada. "She's strong from the inside out…” He threw a glance at his wife, which Sarada didn’t fail to notice, hence, making her smile. “...patient, loving, and selfless." Sarada’s eyes gleamed. There's really something about the way he talks about Sakura that she couldn't understand, maybe it's the connected feelings they used to tell her about. She bit her lip in excitement to extract more hidden facts from her dad. After all, she rarely gets such chance. Then she uttered her next query, "How did you know you're in love with her?" The Uchiha couple stared at her in shock. Sarada can always be straightforward whenever she wants to, and sometimes they still get taken aback, especially the emotionless Uchiha. On the other hand, Sakura fidgeted in the kitchen. Of course she wanted to hear what her husband would say, but she found the need to pretend she's too busy to even linger on listening to the conversation, so she settled on checking the Miso soup on the stove. "C'mon, papa." Sarada wiggled her brows. "I'm sure you have an answer to that." Sasuke sighed in resignation, slightly grinning back at his daughter who also caught so much of her mom's personality.

"Well..." he began, giving a brief glimpse to his wife whom he caught staring at him but suddenly turned away. He knew she may be busy cooking, but he was sure that she was also waiting for him to answer. "I guess...I didn't know how it began, but I've always known." His gaze shifted once again to Sakura who was now looking down with a small smile on her face. "However, I've always denied it as well. For the longest time I have seen and experienced how much your mother deeply cared for me. But I've been blinded for quite some time because of what I thought was my purpose in life." He looked away. "I sought after something else, and thought it would be best to have nothing and no one standing in my way, even Sakura." Sarada furrowed her brows, puzzled. "Something else?" His gaze suddenly landed on the remnant of his left arm, reminding him of his younger self and all the wasted years he has given for something that he eventually ended up regretting. He certainly didn't want to dive into full details about his dark era with his daughter, but he didn't want to lie to her as well. She's been kept in the dark about a lot of things for a long time, so he  decided that for once, being a little open was the least he could give her as her dad. "Revenge." His daughter stared at him with mouth agape. For a moment, Sasuke held his breath, worried of the thoughts that could possibly be circling in his daughter’s head right now. There’s a point that he wanted to prove though, so he brushed the thought away and decided to continue, "But when Sakura stopped me on that first time I left Konoha, I knew it had made an impact on me, something I didn't want to admit concerning my personal mission at hand back then." And then he slowly smiled. "Your mother was hard to resist, actually. But I was just as stubborn as she is. That's why it took...quite some time." Sarada couldn’t help but beam as she listened to her father talking about his true feelings for her mother. Hearing the complete truth from him now, it made her realize how much of a mess it was when she doubted her parents’ relationship back then. "But, if you already had feelings for mama back then, why didn't you bring her with you when you left?" Sasuke thought about it as he glanced at her. That was a good question. Many times, Sakura mentioned that she'd rather join him than be left alone without him, and if he would be really honest, those moments made him admire her more. He knew she didn't want him to be totally consumed by the darkness that almost took every bit of who he was.

That time after the Fourth Shinobi World War, she also wanted to be with him on his journey of redemption, but he knew he needed to focus on things concerning himself first. He needed to understand himself, and many other things, before he could completely let her in. And thankfully, she understood. She always understood. If he failed to stand his ground and allowed Sakura to join him on his defection and even on his journey of redemption, he knew they wouldn’t probably end up with where they are right now.

"Maybe because I knew I wasn't strong enough to protect her yet...even from myself." Sakura heaved a sigh, watching Sasuke and Sarada get deeper on their conversation that simply started with the young Uchiha's curiosity. Surely, her husband learned a lot from that season of his life. And she knows he wouldn't go down that pit once again anymore. It was quite overwhelming for her to hear him talk about it to their daughter. It was a very tough era to say the least; however, greater things happened after that. She then beamed at the memory of when Sasuke came back, finally ready to live a life with her forever on his side. As if Sasuke was able to read his wife's mind, he added, "But there was also a time wherein Sakura joined me in travelling. It was actually that time you were conceived and born." He smiled, turning to his little girl and tapping her forehead. "You could say I got to show her the world, but it wasn't too long of a time since we already had you. And the safety of you two matters most to me."

Life was too complicated for the Uchiha survivor, but at least, fate wasn't too cruel to him and still gave him this – a family. A home. And even though he still had to leave every now and then to make sure that there were no threats to the peace among the nations, he was well-content, for he has a wife and a daughter to return to.

Sakura and Sarada were pleased to know that that time meant something to him. And the young Uchiha now fully understood why there was no record of her birth in every hospital in Konoha, confirming the fact that she was born at Orochimaru's hideout. "So papa," Sarada began once again, pouting as she thought of another question she could shoot at her older version. "You seem to have lots of questions, Sarada," Sasuke remarked, but thankfully, he wasn't irritated at all. Sarada giggled and continued to take advantage of a rare chatty Sasuke at home. "Hmm, who confessed his or her feelings first?" Sasuke smirked at the recent question thrown at him. "I don’t think I’m the one who should answer that." Sakura suddenly dropped the wooden spoon she was holding, not forgetting to give a scowl to her husband and making Sarada glance back and forth at her parents.

"So it's you, mama?" A playful grin slowly appeared on Sarada’s lips. "Uh, hehe." Sakura scratched the back of her neck. "I was young, you know? And your dad's too stubborn to even care. Whether I show it or say it, I always got rejected anyway." She briefly glared at the male Uchiha. Sasuke shrugged. "At least you now know the side of my story." He continued to smirk before tilting his head to his daughter. "Now, now, let's not infuriate your mother anymore, or else we might need to transfer to another house if this gets destroyed once again." "W-what?! You know abou—Sarada?! Didn't I tell you not to tell him?" Now it was Sarada's turn to laugh as she saw her mom put her hands on her hips, "Hey! Papa asked what exactly happened. And you taught me not to lie!" "Ah, you two!" Sakura rolled her eyes as she brought their meal to the dining table. "If only I don't love you both, you won't have dinner tonight!" Then they all laughed as they enjoyed the light atmosphere in the Uchiha home, ending Sarada's curiosity for the night...for now. ————

© September 2018 AriannJS

————

Belated Happy Birthday to the proof of Sasuke & Sakura's love for each other -- Sarada Uchiha! :) This was one of the first few drabbles I've written when I first returned to writing last September. It was honestly my least favorite among all my works, hahahuhu, but I'll post it anyway. I thought of revising and posting it here in time for Sarada's birthday but I haven't been feeling well so it's a day late. Let me know your thoughts about it! :D 

Check out my other SS fics here! :)

- A

[nightingaletrash]

@eldritchscreech said: omg write the SCENE with the augurey sometime, please 😍😍😍

so as I always do, I ended up loosely interpreting the prompt and ended up with this XD it was fun though, I definitely need to do more writing for Evie and the Jensens in general ^^

When Adam got called out of the office, usually it was when he or one of his colleagues finally unearthed evidence that proved someone a supporter of the Dark Lord during the war, and he would go into make an arrest. Sometimes it was because a fellow Auror was having a tough time getting someone to talk to them and needed a little back up. Very occasionally it was an emergency that needed half the office to move in on an armed and dangerous suspect before they could do any harm.

But the Obliviators’ Office informing him of an incident involving muggles at his own home? That was a new one.

It was raining when he arrived. With a gentle pop, he apparated outside of the gate of the gravel road that led to the house itself, and was framed either side by fields, one that expanded out into the distance, and the other that was met at the fringes of the local woods - apparently where the incident had taken place.

He set up off the road, shrugging his coat a little further around him and sticking his hands into his pockets.

According to the Obliviator who had informed him about the incident, some muggles had come across his young daughter, Evie, and whatever they had seen had led to them calling the police. Kara had reached them first and alerted the Ministry, and the team had managed to contain the situation before things got out of hand. Not that it would soothe his nerves until he saw for himself that Evie was safe. Maybe it was the lingering effect the war had had on him, but he didn’t take him family’s safety lightly.

After rounding the corner, the house finally came into view and the front door soon opened. Kara was standing there in a wet raincoat and muddy boots, and looking far too amused for her own good. Adam raised a brow at her.

If she wasn’t looking worried then it wasn’t as serious as he had feared. And he was likely to get ribbed about it back at the office.

“What happened?” he sighed, finally stepped inside.

Almost immediately he was set upon by a pair of large red setters, both of whom started vying for his attention. They didn’t jump up, but instead stood as close to him as was physically possible and barked at the top of their lungs, tails wagging hard enough to upset the coat rack and nearly knock it over. Kara caught it as Adam hushed the dogs.

“I’ll let them explain,” she giggled mischievously, pulling out a pair of earplugs. “I need to get back to the Fwoopers. Their silencing charm is wearing off again.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then stuck the plugs in her ears, pulled up her hood, and headed out into the rain.

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes. He was definitely going to get ribbed about this back at the office.

So he proceeded into the living room, the dogs at his heels, where a pair of Obliviators were waiting, and sitting on the sofa was Evie. With an augurey perched on her shoulder.

He raised a brow at the bird, which looked about as miserable and forlorn as any other augurey he’d seen. Which wasn’t many if he was being honest. But even he could see that it was perfectly comfortable where it was, occasionally preening at Evie’s hair and glancing around the room at the Obliviators, then Adam, then the dogs. It certainly didn’t seem to be in much distress.

“Ah, Mr Jensen,” said the closest of the two Obliviators. She extended a hand. “Delara Auzenne.”

He took it, shaking briefly before turning to Evie, who was unharmed. Albeit looking incredibly sheepish and like she’d much rather sink into the floor and never come back.

“Do I want to know what happened?” he asked dryly, raising a brow.

“Fortunately it’s nothing too serious, if that’s your concern,” said Auzenne, glancing quickly over a notepad. “A group of muggles were out for a walk when they reported a disturbance in the nearby woods to the local authorities. Apparently they heard the sound of a child screaming, accompanied by another sound they were unable to identify. They assumed that the child in question was under attack. When one member of the group attempted to intervene, he found your daughter and this augurey, apparently in the middle of… a conversation.”

The other Obliviator was biting down on a laugh in an attempt to remain professional, whilst Evie shrunk a little further back into the sofa as the augurey adjusted to the shift in position.

“Your wife was alerted to the situation and succeeded in detaining the muggle group before their police arrived, at which point the Ministry had also been alerted and we arrived to contain the situation. You’ll be pleased to hear that we’ve decided to let your daughter and the augurey off with a light warning, and the advisement that they not be left to ‘chat’ without proper supervision.”

“Of course. It won’t happen again.”

“If it does, Evie will be let off on account of her age.” Auzenne’s eyes then twinkled with amusement. “However we may have no choice but to detain the augurey.”

“Of course. And thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Auzenne nodded and turned to her partner.

“I believe we’re done here.”

The Obliviator nodded and the pair disappeared out into the rain. Adam waited until they had disappeared up the road before turning to Evie. Now without their company, he smirked.

“So. They called the police on you?” he chuckled, moving to sit beside her on the side opposite from the augurey which was now eyeing him beadily. The dogs laid at his feet, heads resting on their paws.

“I didn’t know they were there,” she protested meekly. “It was just a bit of fun.”

“It probably sounded like bloody murder. I’d be more concerned if they heard that racket and did nothing.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Does he have a name?”

��She doesn’t, no,” Evie huffed.

“Sorry. Have you thought of one for her yet?”

Evie shrugged.

For a few seconds there was uncomfortable silence. The kind that usually meant she had something she wanted to say but was working up the nerve to do so. So Adam waited for her to speak. When she finally turned to face him, she just asked, “am I in trouble, dad?”

He raised a brow.

“I thought the Obliviators let you off just now. Or are you worried they’ll change their minds and arrest you?”

“No!” Her brow furrowed. “But you came back from work early. You only do that if something bad happens, like when Dumbledore sends letters because Jacob’s in trouble, or before You Know Who died.”

That was enough to make him flinch, even if only a little. He’d not realised that in Evie’s mind his coming home early meant that something had gone seriously wrong. But then he’d only just heard why the Obliviators were dealing with a situation at his home and prior to that he’d been assuming the worst. In hindsight, it wasn’t an unfair assumption for her to be making. So he softened and wrapped an arm around her back, mindful of the augurey’s tail feathers.

“I came back early because someone from the Obliviators’ Office told me something had happened. I just wanted to make sure you and your mum were okay, that’s all,” he explained, squeezing gently.

“And the creatures?”

“Yes, Evie. And the creatures,” he chuckled. Then he looked over at the augurey again who was still watching him with those baleful eyes. “Though I suppose this one’s in a little more trouble than most. Not even the nifflers have gotten a visit from the Ministry before, and you know what they’re like.”

“They’d be the first ever to break out of Azkaban if they got caught, so the Ministry doesn’t bother telling you to arrest them,” she giggled as she reached up to pet the augurey who made a low, thrumming sound in its throat that could be its equivalent to a purr, he supposed.

There were a few more seconds of silence, not at all uncomfortable like the first, before Evie said, “so… can I keep her?”

At that he outright laughed and shook his head. Not to say no, but out of amusement

“Ask your mother,” was all he said.