#without realising like everybody else they had their problems and ugliness

[izartn]

With this new info about Mizi, and showing even more clearly Till being only shallow-y attracted to her facade and him knowing she only loves Sua and Mizi being disgusted, dissapointed about what Till feels about her while being friendly outwardly and I'm like. What the hell was that R2 song Till? Augh. He doesn't let himself know anything about the true Mizi (bc he's in such a bad situation himself he can't) but I'm just. Ouch. Haunted. By how much Mizi did not need that happening just after she lost Sua and was glad to be alive and horrified at herself for it and heartbroken at losing her.

I've no doubt Mizi cared for Till as a friend, which is probably why she feels so guilty (she trying to smile for him between tears as he dies is. Mizi my girl I love you) but she has no reason to? Till was already gonna lose when she appeared in the crowd. Augh.

Till being unable to be anything but himself and show all his emotions up front probably meant he was doomed since the start. He's not an actor. And you need to be one to be a good idol and win the influence game.

Anyways I'm now rootating Mizi, and MiziSua (glad to see the fault lines there it's much more interesting to me now we get Mizi pov) and Mizi +all the other characters and how real has this went about it. Ouch.

[herinsectreflection]

Season Five is essentially a slow-motion trolley problem for Buffy to solve. She can let the unstoppable oncoming train that is Glory kill millions, or she can pull the lever and kill Dawn instead. It’s the most iconic choice in a series that is pretty much all about choice. This internal dilemma is externalised with the main villains. The show uses them to take a stance on the problem. There are obviously a lot of different ways to approach this from a moral philosophy standpoint, and I’m not going to talk about what is the “correct” moral choice, but how the show presents and interprets the various standpoints. It’s also worth mentioning that I am not a philosopher, this is just what I interpret from watching the show and some base level understanding.

Glory represents the option of simply letting people die. She is presented as egocentric, narcissistic, vain, and honestly kind of lazy. I think this is what the show thinks of people who would simply walk away from the lever and do nothing to keep their own hands clean. Glory does not take a sadistic pleasure in causing the death of millions, she simply doesn’t care. She justifies this by declaring that the world sucks anyway, and everyone suffers, so it doesn’t matter.

“Funny. 'Cause I look around at this world you're so eager to be a part of ... and all I see is six billion lunatics looking for the fastest ride out. ... I'm crazy? Honey, I'm the original one-eyed chicklet in the kingdom of the blind.”

- Glory, 5x21 The Weight of the World

But this is patently self-serving, yielding her own agency and using the absurdity of the universe to justify the atrocities she will be responsible for. She refuses to actively engage with the consequences of her actions, and so exposes her poisonous egomania. To simply not make a choice and let millions die would be selfish and intellectually vapid, and so Glory is selfish and vapid, and the main villain.

The Knights of Byzantium represent the opposite, strictly utilitarian viewpoint: that pulling the lever and killing the single person is not simply morally correct, but an imperative. They are treated slightly more sympathetically than Glory, since they are working in an understandable moral framework, but the story shows the ugliness inherent in their outlook. The ultimate endpoint of it is them hunting down and trying to kill a 14 year old girl. Buffy herself points out that this is inherently horrific.

“What kind of god would demand her life for something that she has no control over?”

- Buffy, 5x20 Spiral

The show is consistent throughout its run that a moral framework based purely on a utilitarian, mathematical approach and excuses any evil action as long as the amount of good done outweighs it, is ultimately unethical. That viewpoint can be used to justify any number of awful things, as long as they are outweighed on the cosmic scale. The show does not agree. It believes that certain actions are simply wrong, that no amount of good can wash out the bad. The hypothetical lives that the Knights of Byzantium could save lend their actions a reason that Glory does not have, but ultimately it does not change the fact that a child - a child with a mother, a sister, friends, a life - would be dead at their hands. The Knights refuse to confront that, simply falling back on dogmatic imperatives and silencing independent thought. They too allow their agency to be reduced, which is what allows them to commit awful actions.

Giles represents the space between these two villainous perspectives on the problem, and the heroic one that Buffy represents. He is, of course, not a villain - he’s one of the white hats, mentor to the hero. But he does argue for the utilitarian point of view. The shows stops itself being morally narrow-minded by allowing Giles to voice opposition to Buffy without being a villain, but it also proposes that the action of killing one person to save others is inherently unheroic. It taints Giles, and he accepts that.

“She's a hero, you see. She's not like us.”

I’ve been talking about Dawn as if she is the hypothetical single person on the other track, but she might better fit this scenario if we look at the “Fat Man” variation. This version posits that a “very fat man” is next to you, and pushing him onto the track will save everyone there. Dawn is that man in this scenario. Similarly, Ben can be seen as the “Fat Villain” variant, where pushing the person responsible for tying people to the tracks would save them. Giles’ murder of Ben can be seen as justified, if still unheroic, because Ben himself has chosen selfishness and tainted his own innocence.

Ben is very much a counterpart to Buffy in S5. He too had an ancient mystical force thrust upon him when he was young, which he had no choice in. His personal and professional lives suffer because of this. He cannot pursue the life he imagined for himself because of Glory’s presence, just as being the Slayer prevents it for Buffy. And both Buffy and Ben are offered an easy way out, which they spend The Weight of the World ruminating on - to simply let Dawn die. Ben at this point has a very obvious alternate solution -  the same one Buffy eventually comes to, though she hasn’t realised it’s an option yet - that he ignores. He can throw himself onto the tracks. He can stop anyone dying by killing himself and therefore Glory. But unlike Buffy, he makes the selfish choice, to preserve his own future at the cost of an innocent child. And so he is condemned, and declared a villain as he is killed.

Buffy is the one true hero in this scenario. She concludes that the only moral option is to throw herself onto the tracks. This is still, ultimately, one life given to save many. But it’s hers to give. It’s her choice to make. Glory, Ben, the Knights of Byzantium, even Giles - when they advocate for killing Dawn, they all claim ownership of her life. She becomes a lamb for them to offer up. Dawn, brave and heroic mini-Buffy as she is, actually does offer up her own life to save others too, but the point is that it’s her life to give. It’s the difference between sacrifice and self-sacrifice.

This is how Buffy reconciles “Death is your gift” with “A Slayer is not a Killer”. All the other actors we’ve considered are killers. Giles and Tara spell it out pretty well in The Gift.

BUFFY: The spirit guide told me ... that death is my gift. Guess that means a Slayer really is just a killer after all.

GILES: I think you're wrong about that.

TARA: (points to Giles) You're a killer.

A killer is not necessarily evil or a monster, as Giles as a person makes clear. But a killer will pull that lever. A Slayer will jump on the tracks. Buffy and Faith debated this idea back in Consequences, where supposed utilitarian Faith suggests that “Slayer” and “killer” are interchangeable. Buffy argues that they are not, and specifically cites the idea that they can’t decide whether the lives of others are worth saving or not.

Faith: We're warriors. We're built to kill.

Buffy: To kill demons! But it does not mean that we get to pass judgment on people like we're better than everybody else!

Throughout S5, and particularly starting in Restless she fears that Faith is in fact right, and that a Slayer is in fact a killer. But in The Gift she proves that incorrect. She ties the human part of herself represented by Dawn to the duty-bound slayer part of herself, and both lead to the same destination of self-sacrifice, and heroism.

[muwi-translates]

剣が君 特典ドラマCD 若葉風奇譚 ～江戸花嫁騒動の巻～

Ken ga Kimi Tokuten Drama CD - Strange Tales of the Early Summer Breeze ~Edo Bride Scandal Volume~

Nine track hour or so long drama. No spoilers. As usual, Chinese source with light Japanese referencing.

**Please don’t move this translation or claim it as your own.**

Track 1 - Prologue

Everyone: M-Marriage?!

Enishi: Shh! You’re too loud!

Tsuzuramaru: S-Sorry… but, Miss is getting married…?

Enishi: Well, who wouldn’t be surprised? That one day our princess would actually become a bride… Ugh, those pink cheeks, that silky skin— I can't believe it’s all going to another guy…Gaaah! Princess!!

Saneaki: No, wait, are you sure? It’s so sudden it’s a bit hard to believe.

Suzukake: S-Saneaki’s right! What if you got it wrong? If… if… she got married, I’d get lonely…

Sakyo: You two need to calm down. No matter how much you panic, the problem won’t solve itself. First, let’s listen to what Enishi-dono has to say.

Sakyo: Now then, Enishi-dono. Quickly, tell us what is happening. Hurry and tell us everything you know…!

Kei: You’re the one who needs to calm down! You’re gonna kill him! Let go!

Sakyo: Ah, my deepest apologies. I got a little too… very well, please explain.

Enishi: *gasp* *gasp*...I saw heaven for a second there…

Saneaki: You were really hanging on by a thread there, Enishi-dono.

Enishi: As if you cared about me at all!

Enishi: Anyway, I understand how Sakyo feels. I don’t want to accept this just as much as you guys. The princess getting married to some man…

Tsuzuramaru: I don’t want to think about it!

Enishi: Exactly, to not think about it is to not believe it.

Kei: You’re the one who said it, how could you not believe it?!

Enishi: It’s true I don’t believe it, but I heard it myself.

Suzukake: Heard it? From where?

Enishi: I went to a cloth dealer I knew, and he was talking to me about how his son was getting married soon. Was bragging about how amazing his partner was. I was listening pretty intently, but the more he spoke, the more I thought he was talking about our princess. Eventually I figured out that he *was* talking about our princess, so I ran without even finishing my sake!

Sakyo: And then you summoned us here, yes? I will not say anything about you drinking in broad daylight, I understand the situation well enough.

Enishi. That’s right. That’s why I had to gather all my friends from our journey together from the bridal procession. This is the most serious of emergencies, right? It looked like the cloth dealer’s wedding gift was almost done being prepared, so I thought it would be better to tell you guys as soon as possible.

Kei: Ha. This is stupid. I thought something had happened, but that’s it?

Saneaki: Kei-dono? What’s wrong?

Kei: What do you mean what’s wrong? Cut it out! I was wondering why we had to be called here when it’s just about a girl getting married.

Enishi: You say that, but weren’t you the quickest here?

Kei: Shut up! I… just happened to be nearby!

Tsuzuramaru: Hm? But on my way here a man that looked just like you sped right past me. Did they just happen to look alike? I was walking pretty quickly but he still managed to pass me and disappeared. What a truly extraordinary person…

Kei: *punches Tsuzuramaru* S-S-S-S-Shut up! Stop yabbering! Besides! Enishi, I don’t believe what you’re saying at all. You must have made a mistake when you were all smashed.

Saneaki: Kei-dono is right. If she really were to be married to someone, she would have no reason to hide it from us—

Suzukake: Aaaaah!!

Kei: W-What is it now?

Suzukake: I-I just remembered… when I was delivering medicine earlier, I passed by Princess’ storefront. I think I saw some congratulatory gifts from a dowry being brought there...

Saneaki: What? If that’s true, then what Enishi said might have some weight…

Tsuzuramaru: Ah… it seems that way…

Enishi: Why don’t you guys trust me but trust Suzukake?!

Tsuzuramaru: If this is really happening then… Miss is really being married to some man… Aaaaagh…

Kei: Argh! You’re so loud! Don’t hold your head and start screaming! Oi, Sakyo, don’t just sit there, say something!

Sakyo: Unforgivable.

Kei: Hah? Why’d you stand up for?

Kei: ...Why’d you take your sword? …What are you planning on doing?

Sakyo: What, you ask?

Sakyo: Is it not obvious? I will cut that man.

Suzukake: Cut?! C-Calm down, Sakyo-san!

Tsuzuramaru: Y-You can’t do that!

Saneaki: That’s right, Sagihara-dono. You shouldn’t cut people.

Sakyo: But…!

Saneaki: Even if you injured him, that would change nothing.

Tsuzuramaru: Exactly!

Saneaki: It should be enough to exile him to a deserted island—

Tsuzuramaru: Saneaki!! You can’t do that either!

Kei: Saying some real scary stuff like that… are you forgetting there’s a patrolman here listening?

Enishi: In any case we’re not accepting this marriage. Everybody agree?

Sakyo: I have no complaints. This situation must be stopped, no matter the means.

Kei: You’re scaring us, you need to cool off!

Suzukake: I… I’ve always wished for the Princess’ happiness…so if she really wants to get married, I won’t stop her. But… but, if she’s hesitating even a little… then I hope I’ll be able to convince her to think about it again.

Tsuzuramaru: I’m the same. No matter what, I have to show her my feelings first!

Sakyo: Indeed. I may have been a bit rash...

Kei: A *bit*? A bit my ass. I don’t care what you guys do as long as you’re not cutting down people. And no exiling either!

Saneaki: I will think about it.

Kei: Don’t ‘think about it’, don’t even think about it at all!

Saneaki: No matter the case, I cannot pretend I didn’t hear about this. If this marriage is real, then I am concerned about why she didn’t talk to us about it. This needs to be investigated.

Enishi: Right! For the princess, let’s break this marriage!

Everyone except Kei: Right!

Kei: We’re not breaking anything, didn’t we *just say* we’re investigating? Geez… nothing bad’s gonna happen… right?

---

Track 2 - Kei

Ah, geez, what’s all this fuss about? Those guys got together and made so much noise over nothing, what an eyesore. It’s just her getting married to someone, what’s the problem?

W-Well, it’s worrying that she didn’t mention it to any of us. But just a bit. Just a bit, that’s all!

Hm? That guy ahead of me… isn’t he the young master of the cloth dealers’ Enishi talked about? But who’s the girl next to him?

(Looks like they’re pretty close… they’re walking so close, and they look happy together.

Don’t tell me, this guy’s about to get married, but he’s going on dates with girls in broad daylight?! 

Don’t mess around. So he’s not planning on properly taking care of her after all? 

That girl’s always working hard no matter where she is, she’s strong-willed but gentle at heart, and she’s an unimaginably good woman. But here you are… Dammit… how could someone like you snatch her up?)

Unforgivable. 

Oi, you over there--

Who’s there?! Don’t bother me--

Huh? Ah, i-it’s you?! Wh-What are you doing here… d-don’t you have to watch the store?

Eh? Ah… you were just coming back from the dojo? Ah, well, there’s nothing wrong with that.

(Nothing wrong with that, my ass! It’ll get ugly if she stays here! If she sees that young master walking around with another woman, she’ll get hurt for sure! I need to think of a way to get her out of here fast. Agh! Why do I have to do something like this? But I can’t just leave it...)

Uh… *ahem* ah, um.. that’s… um… ah, that’s right! You look like you’re getting hungry.

You’re not? Just say you are, idiot!

Anyway, there’s a good teahouse over there. Let’s go! Right now!

---

(*sigh* Speak of the devil and they’ll appear, huh… but looking at her, it doesn’t look like she saw the young master. But now that I’ve seen that, to let a guy who hangs out with women like that become her husband-- I’m definitely not going to allow it. But… how am I gonna tell her that? …*sigh*)

‘What’s wrong’? What a sleazy guy! It’s because I’ve been thinking about you that I have this headache!

Huh? N-No, it’s nothing… Anyway, hurry up and eat it. Look, all those fresh beans in this anmitsu is definitely going to taste good-- ah, BEANS?! Ugh, I almost ate them…

Hah? I’m not being weird at all! I’m the same as always! Just hurry up and eat it! Here, you can have my portion too.

(What the hell am I doing? I’m getting way too distracted… Anyway, all I have to say is: “Hurry up and turn down the marriage”. A sleaze like him is going to bring her nothing but unhappiness. The time to stop it is now. No, I *have* to say it! “You gotta give up a guy like that”!)

Hey, you. Just give it up.

Idiot, why are you so dazed for? Did you think I wouldn’t know? I was going to find out why you didn’t tell me. But, I have to say this.

If you keep going like this, then you’re just going to get hurt. I won’t say more on what bad things could happen. So think about it again.

That’s true. You wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about. Because you didn’t see what I saw. But I saw it myself, with my own eyes.

I always thought that as long as you were happy, it would be enough. But I realised this wasn’t right. From now on, I don’t want to see you in pain either. That’s why, just believe in me, and think about it!

Ah! I see, you were already planning on giving it up?

--Why are you giving the anmitsu I gave you back?

Hah? I was trying so hard to get you to give up the anmitsu that you decided you won’t eat anymore?

N-No! I wasn’t talking about the anmitsu!

W-Well, it’s true that I don’t like beans, but I don’t care if someone else eats them! Besides! Being this serious over a bowl of anmitsu, that doesn’t even make sense! I wasn’t talking about that at all!

Anyway! Isn’t there something more important?!

That… you know… what I’m trying to say is-- argh, dammit! What I’ve been trying to say is that I want your future to be happy!

(Huh… huh? What… did I just say?)

*Clapping*

A-ah, no! Wanting you to be happy… that… that wasn’t what I meant! I-- aghhh!!

T-The money… I’m leaving it here! Bye!!

(What am I doing…? I was supposed to have her give up on the marriage completely… in the end I said so many unnecessary things… I’ll… never be able to face her again… Guh…)

---

Track 3 - Suzukake

Suzukake: (There she is… it’s the princess. She’s always sweeping the storefront at this time. If she’s really getting married… I won’t be able to meet up with her casually anymore. 

I’ll get lonely.

Hey, Princess, are you really going to get married? Did you really want to get married?

I want to ask her, but I’m scared… 

Ah! She spotted me… I… have to go. Even though I don’t know what to say… I-I’ll just talk like I normally do!)

H-Hey, Princess! The weather’s good today, isn’t it?

Eh? Why was I hiding behind the wagon? So I could come and see you— no, hide and seek! I was playing hide and seek!

Mhm! Y-Yep… I was playing by myself! Ah, no… a person can’t play by themselves… uh… um…

(Ugh… she’s going to think I’m weird…)

Eh? U-Uh huh, yeah, I came to see you. Because I have something I wanted to say to you.

(If I say that then there’s no way I’m gonna run away. I don’t want to either! I’m gonna listen to what she has to say.)

Hey… you haven’t been thinking about wanting to get married before, right?

I’m sorry for asking out of the blue… but I really have to know. You might not remember what happened during the bridal procession clearly anymore, but I still do.

I thought you looked really pretty in your bridal kimono then.

You were just a fake bride then but… but, did the princess really have someone you wanted to get married to one day? Was there... a place you wanted to go with someone?

(Why am I asking these kinds of questions? It’s because… I don’t want to let you go. If you go away with that person… I’ll get lonely. My heart will start hurting, and I’ll feel like I want to cry. Hey… don’t go off to another man’s side! Don’t go, Princess!)

Please, tell me. Do you want to get married?

...One day…?

(That’s a lie… you’re about to get married soon, aren’t you? And then we won’t be able to play, we won't be able to laugh together like this anymore.)

*sobs* Princess! You can’t! Don’t go anywhere! I don’t want that!! *cries*

I won’t be able to hug you like this anymore! I don’t want that! Hey, don’t go, alright?

I’ll do whatever I have to to make you smile! If you ever get hurt, I’ll be able to heal you quickly! No… I’d never let you get hurt! That’s why, Princess, stay with me forever!

Enishi: What the hell are you guys doing in public? 

Suzukake: Aaah! Enishi?! Let me go! Princess is— Princess is—!

Enishi: How could I let you cry out on the streets? Can’t you see you’re worrying the princess?

Suzukake: How could you be so calm? Separating us is so mean!

Enishi: Hah?

Suzukake: The princess is disappearing soon! She’s gonna get taken away by a man I don’t even know!!!

Enishi: W-Wait! If you say it like that then you’re gonna make me sound like a human trafficker! Look! The people around us are staring! Do you want the police to come too?!

Suzukake: *wailing*

Enishi: O-Oi! Don’t move around so much! A-Ah, you’ll hit the wagon! Aaaagh!!

---

Track 4 - Enishi

*sigh* That got pretty bad… Thanks for letting me rest inside the restaurant, Princess. Suzukake kept coming back too, I wonder what happened?

Ah… you don’t know either. I see.

(Well, he’s probably coming back to listen to any rumours about the marriage… Even though he beat me to it, it looks like no one will bother us for the time being. Plus it’s just the two of us in the restaurant… I guess even the heavens are helping me.)

Ah, no, it’s nothing. Anyway, do you have some time now, Princess?

I see. It’s started to get calmer. That’s good. Hey, Princess, how about we talk for a bit? Here, come sit over here.

(Alright, alright! Everything’s going smoothly. Even though I want to look at Princess like this a bit more, the marriage thing is the most important thing at hand right now. I even made some special preparations for this. I have to change her mind no matter what.)

Hey, Princess. There’s actually something I want to give you.

Here, isn’t it beautiful? This kanzashi.

When I saw it I thought it would suit you so well I decided to buy it. It’s my present for you.

Don’t say that you can’t accept it, you’ll make the kanzashi cry! Besides, there’s nobody else aside from you I want to give it to, so you should take it.

Don’t move, let me put it on.

Come on, if you keep moving around I won’t be able to put it on properly, right?

Yep! I knew it’d suit you! As expected of someone like me, not bad! It’s made out of wood like the ones used for scabbards. Don’t you think that’s nice? You can say it matches the accessories I’m wearing.

Eh? You’re saying this is the first time you know what a scabbard is made out of?

Haha, I’m not *that* knowledgeable yet! Ahaha…

(Uuh… Even though I’m happy she just complimented me, we’re not here to talk about what it’s made out of… I thought it would remind her about the marriage… As expected of the princess, I can’t just use any plain old method… in that case…)

Buuuuut I’m a bit worried…

Why, you ask? Because the princess is just so cute, I’m worried that another man will steal you away.

Maybe that kanzashi can be proof that you should be by my side forever.

Hey… if I said that to you, how would you react? I don’t want to give a princess this cute to someone else.

I’m not playing around, this is how I really feel.

Princess, don’t run away. I want you to listen to me properly. The man you love the most… what’s he like?

You must have thought of someone. Even if you tried to hide it, I can see it clearly. Princess, please think about it carefully.

The man that you’re thinking of right now, is he better than me?

I don’t plan to lose to him. If you doubt my feelings, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll fight him if I have to.

Don’t stop me, there are times where men have to get into battles like this one.

I plan to bring that man here, and have a fight with him fair and square right in front of you.

What? He’s in the house? That’s perfect. Could you do me a favour and bring him out?

(The fact that this guy can just come in and out of her house in broad daylight… I’m so jealous!!— No, he’s about a hundred years too early staying here! Who is this outstanding guy? I’ll personally challenge you! If I win, she’ll definitely change her mind about the marriage!)

He’s out. I’ve been waiting for you. Now, it’s time to duel—!

Ah, huh? Um… I’m pretty sure you’re the princess’ father…?

(Why did her father come out? Hah? I just realised I didn’t specify that I was looking for her marriage partner. Haha, that’s true, if it’s not about love then of course the person she loves the most would be her father. Uh-huh… I see. So… my super serious confession didn’t get through to her at all? P-Princess… I can feel sad too, you know…)

Eh, ah… no, father… fighting fair and square… it was just a figure of speech! F-Father? Why are you grabbing my shoulder smiling like that?

Eh? A cooking battle?

You’re happy because there hasn’t been any youngsters with a backbone to challenge you lately…?? D-Don’t joke, how could a ronin like me challenge the owner of a restaurant?

N-No… y-you made a mistake— this is all just a misunderstanding!!

W-Wait!! Don’t pull me! I know I’m carrying a sword but I’ve never used a knife before!

AAH!! Princess, help me!! Princessss!!!!

---

Track 5 - Interlude

Kei, Suzukake, Enishi: *sigh*

Saneaki: What’s wrong, you three? Why do you look so worn out?

Kei: Why did I… in front of so many people…

Suzukake: *sobs* No… Princess….

Enishi: J-Julienning… no more…

Sakyo: This time it’s Enishi-dono? What a predicament...

Tsuzuramaru: W-What exactly happened…?

Saneaki: Enishi-dono, don’t you have anything to say?

Enishi: I… I’ll never give up! Princesss!!

Saneaki: It’s no use. I can’t get through to him.

Tsuzuramaru: What about you, Kei? What happened?

Kei: I have nothing to say… except… except. That cloth dealer bastard was getting real chummy with another woman!

Tsuzuramaru: What?!

Sakyo: He is already going to be wed soon… and he was with another woman? Unbelievable…

Saneaki: Even if we ignored Enishi-dono for now, if Kei-dono said so then it must be true.

Enishi: Why do you always have to say things that wound my heart?

Suzukake: *sobs* Princess… *cries*

Saneaki: Suzukake-dono…

Tsuzuramaru: I can’t let this go on! I’m going to go find Miss now!

Saneaki: Wait! Tsuzuramaru-dono!

Tsuzuramaru: Don’t stop me! There’s nothing to say about a guy like him!

Saneaki: Ah, he’s gone…It looks like he went without a plan… will he be alright?

Saneaki: Now then, Sagihara-dono, what should we do?

Sakyo: You… To hand her over to a person like that… 

Saneaki: …It looks like there isn’t a plan here either. *sigh*

---

Track 6 - Tsuzuramaru

Tsuzuramaru: *panting* I made it…

(Miss… she’s inside. Calm down, Tsuzuramaru. She’s just the same as usual, helping out at home, she hasn’t left the house yet. I can still make it. I should still make it! Now’s the time to be a man, as if I’m staking my life on this!)

*stomach grumbles*

(For my stomach to growl even at a time like this… it makes me hate myself. No… but… ah… that smells so good. It looks like they’re cooking something right now. Are these dried sweet potatoes? 

That smell… Miss’ food always whets the appetite. My stomach’s been completely captured. Even if it’s the same dish, if you look carefully, you can tell she put a lot of effort into it. A woman who meticulously works no matter what it is… that’s Miss… I… I…)

*stomach grumbles*

(Ugh… I want to yell out how I feel about Miss, but I’m so hungry I can’t even summon the energy…)

M-Miss? Why did you come outside?

Is that so? Because you saw me? H-How embarrassing. I seem to have gotten in the way of your cooking.

(No, this is a good opportunity. If I want Miss to cancel the marriage now’s the moment!)

Miss… actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you—

Ugh… this… Actually, I haven't eaten properly since morning because of my worries…

I came at a good time?

T-Taste testing? Are you saying I can help  taste what you’re making right now?

(What? N-No… why did I come here in the first place? But to decline her offer would be a shame… and I’m hungry anyway…)

T-Then if it’s alright with you, I’ll try a little.

Y-Yes! Excuse me…

Usually the master does all the food preparations. It’s strange to see Miss doing that today.

Hm? A lot of customers came and there weren't enough ingredients? So he went to get some?

Ahaha, these customers can really eat a lot, don't they?

Eh? They weren’t eaten? He just did a lot of cooking? And made a lot of food? 

Hm… I don’t really understand, but that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?

(Wait… doesn’t that mean it’s just the two of us here right now? W-What…? My heart suddenly won’t calm down… Anyway, I need to calm down first…)

Sorry, Miss! I was just thinking about something. Ah... did you need me to taste that sweet potato?

Then I’ll help myself.

Delicious! It’s so good! I could taste the flavour of the hot sweet potato as soon as it hit my mouth!

I’m not just being polite! Miss will definitely be a good wife one day. 

(Hm? Wife? That’s right… I seem to have forgotten something important. What was it?)

Oh, did you need me to taste that too?

I’m very grateful. Then, if you’ll allow me…

As expected, delicious! 

(Ah… I’m so lucky... If I were to marry Miss… would it be like this everyday? Marry? ...Marry? Huh… Something doesn’t seem right. I’ve forgotten something… but I can’t remember.

No, I should be focusing on helping taste test the dishes Miss made herself! If I don’t do it properly there’ll be retribution!)

The flavour of this fried fish is endless! I can’t stop my chopsticks! It’s so good I want to eat it with rice! Eh? Can I? Then I’ll help myself. I’ll eat this rice ball, then!

Ah! So satisfying!

Miss’ future husband is going to be so lucky! Hahahaha….

---

Kei: So. Why did you come back so casually after going out to eat food?!!

Tsuzuramaru: I-I’m ashamed of myself…

Kei: A samurai should stick to his word! Where did all that energy you had when you rushed out this morning go?!!

Tsuzuramaru: Ah… it’s because Miss’ food was so good, I accidentally forgot my original objective…

Suzukake: How lucky, you got to eat the princess’ homemade cooking.

Enishi: Good grief. Let’s not even talk about the food I made, all I got was severe criticism. Huu...

Tsuzuramaru: I-I’m sorry. Hey, where’s Saneaki?

Kei: He just went out. If he can’t do it either, then there’s nothing we’ll be able to do.

---

Track 7 - Saneaki

(The sun is about to set, and the number of pedestrians passing the bridges has fallen. If the information obtained is correct, the cloth dealer’s young master should pass by here around this time. To get to the truth about these marriage rumours, and the fact that he’s been close to other women, I’ll get to the bottom of this here. If there are any surprises…

No… of course, I don’t plan to cut him down. But if it’s just... the back of the blade, then there should be no problem.

W-What was I just thinking? I’m just going to talk to him.

But… contaminating her beautiful and flawless heart, this is a very serious crime.

Hm? That figure… It’s her? Why? At this time?

I can’t believe I’d see her while waiting for the young master… if she asks me what I’m doing, I’ll have no way to answer her. 

Ugh, did she notice me?)

What a coincidence.

To meet in a place like this. Although… where were you going at a time like this?

Tsuzuramaru-dono forgot something at the restaurant? 

(What was he doing? That Tsuzuramaru-dono…)

Ah, if that’s the case, I can return it to him. No, it’s fine. I have plans to see him again soon, so it’s no trouble. 

Hm? Is something wrong?

Are you that surprised that he and I made plans to meet?

(Ah! No, if you think about it, it is strange! I usually live in the mountains far away from Edo, it’s already unusual for me to be on the streets. Not only that, but to also say I’m meeting with Tsuzuramaru-dono, she’ll definitely think something happened.)

Ah, no, Tsuzuramaru-dono and I were… I know, we promised to train together.

Yes, it was a favour he asked of me. I planned to meet up with him for a few duels.

(Looks like she believes me. So the princess's heart is this pure and flawless.

Plus, my heart is hurting as well.)

Hm? N-No, you don’t have to join us. Although I’m aware you're very passionate about the naginata, it is not appropriate to meet men at night.

Even if you ask me… I can’t…

(Oh no… hearing me mention practice… her eyes are sparkling… If I say it was just a lie, then she’ll know I deceived her. But, I can’t bear to refuse her like this. 

Is there something I could say that wouldn’t hurt her but make her give up…?)

M-My apologies, but wouldn’t it be too difficult for you? This will be very intense training. It’s not something someone should go into without being fully aware of what it is.

What kind of training is it? Well… that…

(F-For me to lie to a pure-hearted girl… please forgive me for my sins!)

We will cross blades at Mount Nabebuta. With a single slice, we will be able to cleave through rocks and trees, split even the earth and ocean, make mountains erupt flames, to raise gales on flat ground, this atypical power passed under the heavens, the true swordsmanship that governs the universe and all living things! That! Is that we will be training for. 

(Is what I said, but what sort of samurai like that would exist?! Even someone like her would notice…!)

I-I see… you think that’s impressive.

No… that… isn’t much.

(S-She believed me? E-Even though I was the one who said it… but to believe even those words is really… Ah… Her trusting eyes… seeing them now pains me!)

What? You want to watch us despite all that? No! E-Even watching us will be difficult.

The reason? The reason is…

(I’ve reached my limit… if I keep betraying her trust in me and continuing saying nonsense… I… I…—)

There’s no possible way I could do that!!

(Oh, God! Please forgive this most sinful servant of yours!)

---

Track 8 - Sakyo

Everyone: *sigh*

Enishi: Look, even Saneaki looks like he’s gone through a tough battle.

Suzukake: It seems so… Tsuzuramaru aside, Saneaki-san looks so defeated…

Enishi: It looks like the sun is setting soon, I can’t believe the mood got even heavier.

Suzukake: *sigh* We’ve really at the end of our ropes, what do we do now?

Enishi: Oi, Kei, don’t you have any good ideas?

Kei: Don’t ask me, go ask Sagihara. ...Huh? Where did he go?

Enishi: Huh? Now that you say it I haven’t seen him for a while.

Suzukake: Sakyo-san had a really scary face all day, is he going to be alright? When he first heard what Enishi told us, he almost lost his head…

Kei: That was the first time I’ve seen Sagihara make a face that scary before. Don’t tell me… something happened…?

Enishi: No… is what I’d like to say, but I’ve been having a bad feeling about this…

Suzukake: A bad feeling?

Kei: Don’t you remember? When we first met up…

(Flashback)

Sakyo: What, you ask?

Sakyo: Is it not obvious? I will cut that man.

---

Enishi: You don’t think he really took his sword and…?

Suzukake: Eh?! Then we have to go stop him!

Kei: I don’t want to believe it but, with a face like that he really might have gone and done it.

Enishi: In any case, we have to hurry…!

Suzukake: Yep! Come on, Tsuzuramaru, Saneaki-san! You have to pull yourself together for the princess!

Tsuzuramaru: A-Ah, sorry. Now’s not the time to be all down!

Saneaki: Even I had been… Let’s hurry and find Sagihara-dono!

---

Sakyo: Without knowing it I came to the storefront…

(Just thinking about her marriage partner gives me goose bumps all over my body in disgust. To cheat and marry a girl who doesn’t know any better, what a despicable man! Absolutely unforgivable.

Princess. I will definitely rescue you from the claws of this demon!

For that sake… yes, I have no choice but to draw support from the power of my blade!

Oh? It seems I have been discovered.)

Good evening, Princess.

Are you alright? To step outside at night like this is dangerous. You stepped out because you saw me?

Thank you very much.

Truthfully, I came to find you because I had something I wished to talk to you about.

Eh? Everyone has been saying they were looking for you?

(That’s true… everyone has been very worried about this issue. You did not change your mind no matter who came to you… That is why, I will use this sword…! 

But I cannot do that in a place with so many people. I must find a place much darker, more quiet, somewhere where nobody can disturb me…)

Princess, are you willing to experience the night breeze with me for a while?

---

Kei: Oi! Is he over there?

Suzukake: He’s not! Where did Sakyo-san take the princess off to?

Kei: Sagihara!! Where are you? Come out!!

Suzukake: Sakyo-san!! Don’t hide anymore!

Tsuzuramaru: He really did go to the store, but I didn’t think we’d be a step too late… I didn’t think he’d take Miss, and not the young master…

Enishi: Sakyo wouldn’t get violent towards the princess, would he?!

Suzukake: N-No way! That wouldn’t happen, right?!

Tsuzuramaru: How could this have happened? Miss!! Where are you?

Saneaki: Isn’t he nearby? We should search the opposite side next…

Sakyo: Oh…?

Everyone: W-We found you!!

Sakyo: W-What is it? Staring at me like I am some exotic creature… and being so loud.

Kei: You have the gall to look that indifferent. We’ve been looking for you!

Sakyo: I do not know what happened, but can you step aside? The princess and I have a place we must go, please do not disturb us.

Suzukake: A place you have to go… w-where?

Enishi: Don’t tell me it’s the Underworld…?

Sakyo: The Underworld? Hm…

Sakyo: Haha. Well, if I am with the Princess, then that place does not sound bad…

Tsuzuramaru: Wh—

Saneaki: I knew it… it’s like that…

Sakyo: I was just teasing, your faces are all so pale. I was simply playing—

Tsuzuramaru: Even if you’re Sakyo, I won’t let you get away with it!

Sakyo: Excuse me—?

Tsuzuramaru: Miss! You can’t lose your life here! Come over here, run!

Sakyo: Where do you think you’re going? Wait!

Enishi: Tsuzuramaru, that guy’s getting the spotlight! As if I’ll let him! Just you wait—

Saneaki: …There’s no choice.

Suzukake: W-Wait! Everybody!

Kei: That idiot! Dammit…

---

Sakyo: I… I finally caught you… Princess… come, this time… you and I will… together… go…

Tsuzuramaru: I… I won’t let you! Sakyo! Think about it again properly!

Sakyo: No matter how many times I think, my feelings will not change!

Kei: You finally drew your sword, huh, you blockhead!

Saneaki: Sagihara-dono! Do you really think doing this will make the princess happy?

Suzukake: Exactly, Sakyo-san! Come on, put the sword down!

Sakyo: I politely decline the offer. No matter how many times my hand must grasp this sword, I must tell the princess how I feel!

Tsuzuramaru: I won’t let you! Miss, please hide behind me!

Sakyo: You’re naive, Tsuzuramaru-dono.

Sakyo: Oh? There’s a flying riceball in the sky!

Tsuzuramaru: What? Where?

Sakyo: An opening!

Tsuzuramaru: Dammit! Miss!

Enishi: What the hell are you doing, Tsuzuramaru? How could you fall for that?

Sakyo: Hehe. For Tsuzuramaru-dono to think he would win against me, he is a hundred years early for that!

Sakyo: Princess. I truly want to bring you to a very beautiful place. But please, allow me to use this blade to… to blade to…

Everyone: STOP!!

Sakyo: ...give to you! From now on, my family treasures and myself will belong to you!

Everyone: WHAT???

Sakyo: Even after these five’s persuasion, you haven't changed your mind. Since you still want to be paired with someone, then you will have no reason to be paired with that person! Allow me to take you as my bride! So, Princess, you no longer need to be by another person’s side!

Kei: Can you not make it about that?!

Enishi: Right! Right! If you can propose to her can I propose too?!

Kei: That’s not the point either!!

Suzukake: You can be with the princess when you become the groom, right? Then I want to become the groom!

Tsuzuramaru: W-What?! Then me too!! I want to eat Miss’ delicious food every day!

Saneaki: No, no, a groom is a man who can manage the family. If that’s the case then I am the best choice, when it comes to cooking I have some confidence in myself.

Kei: Did any of you guys even listen to me?!!!!

Sakyo: Princess, you do not have to listen to the others. Throw away the cloth dealer’s young master. All you have to do is choose me. Come, Princess!

---

Tsuzuramaru: M-Miss? Miss? Are you alright?

Enishi: She must be overwhelmed with how she couldn’t even cut in…

Saneaki: You’re asking what this is all about?

Sakyo: What do you mean? We…

Suzukake: We heard you were getting married… so… 

Enishi: Right, and it’s the young master from the cloth dealer, right? But I don’t think that guy will make you happy.

Kei: Sorry, but I saw that guy go out with another girl.

Tsuzuramaru: That’s why we’ve been coming to you, so you can think about this marriage more carefully!

Tsuzuramaru: Eh? You haven’t been thinking about getting married?

Sakyo: But your house seems to have a dowry…

Saneaki: The dowry is your neighbour’s?

Suzukake: Eh? You’re just minding it because they’re not home?

Tsuzuramaru: W-Wait, but there’s been rumours that Miss and the young master were getting married?

Kei: O-Oi, Enishi! What’s going on? Didn’t you say the young master’s getting married to her?

Enishi: Yeah, that’s what I heard! And I was listening properly! The young master’s marriage partner is energetic, is good at cooking, her voice is as clear as a bell, and even flowers will bloom on the road where she walks. She’s so slender she looks like she would break at a touch, but her willpower is stronger than most people. And the most important thing: I heard she has a cute smile!

Enishi: It’s definitely the princess! Even now I think I’m right! That’s how it is! What do you think, you lot?

Tsuzuramaru: …I agree.

Suzukake: That’s true…

Saneaki: I see… Well, it’s not like I don’t understand how Enishi-dono feels.

Kei: WHERE?! You got it completely wrong!!

Sakyo: Wait a second… so what you are saying… is that this is all… a misunderstanding?

Enishi: Ah… It… seems… so. Hehe, but knowing the princess isn’t getting married is good news!

Kei: It’s. Not. Good. News. At. ALLLL!!!

---

Track 9 - Ending

Sakyo: Apologies for intruding.

Tsuzuramaru: Oh, if it isn’t Sakyo.

Sakyo: Tsuzuramaru-dono? And everyone else seems to have gathered here...

Enishi: Yep, and with you we’ll all be present. Can you sit with everyone? Sit here.

Sakyo: To visit the princess again… it seems everyone had the same idea.

Suzukake: Mhm, I caused trouble for the princess, so I bought some tea sweets as a gift for her.

Saneaki: Everyone all came here for the same reason.

Enishi: Anyway, it doesn’t need to be said, doesn’t matter which one of us it is, we all want to see the princess, right? Right, Kei?

Kei: D-Don’t touch me! You’re the one who needs to reflect on himself the most!

Tsuzuramaru: But, even though we brought trouble to Miss, to know that this time it was all just a misunderstanding was good. After reflecting my stomach couldn’t help but grumble, what can you do?

Enishi: Well… can’t you see Sakyo’s dripping in cold sweat?

Sakyo: T-That is not because I am here to apologise… please do not talk about it. You are being spiteful.

Suzukake: Let’s calm down, the both of you. Enishi, don’t make Sakyo angry.

Enishi: Alright, alright. Well… why isn’t the princess here yet?

Sakyo: Oh? That is strange… did she leave the restaurant today?

Saneaki: Yes, her father was the one who seated us.

Kei: That’s unusual. Usually she’ll rush back to welcome us. What is she doing…?

Tsuzuramaru: Don’t tell me… she’s been mad at us these past few days, so she doesn’t want to see us anymore?

Suzukake: Eh?! We didn’t make the princess hate us, did we?

Enishi: N-No way… we’re talking about the kind-hearted princess here! There’s no way that’s it…

Saneaki: But if it is… we should prepare ourselves just in case.

Kei: Don’t say something like that so seriously.

Sakyo: It does not look like we need to do that kind of preparation.

Suzukake: Ah! Princess! You came! That’s good!

Suzukake: Eh? The kimono you’re wearing today isn’t the same as the one you normally wear.

Tsuzuramaru: It… it suits you well!

Saneaki: I see… you got your other one wet, so you changed your clothes… 

Enishi: Oh, it was just that? Buuuut… hmhm! Not bad! It’s more mature than your usual look, it adds to your womanliness!

Kei: Why’re you saying stuff like that? She hasn’t changed from how she normally is, or whatever.

Sakyo: It is good if that is the case. Kei-dono, why can’t you look at her?

Kei: Shut up!

Sakyo: Heh. Well, I cannot say I do not understand that kind of feeling too. That said, Princess, this is a gift to make up for that day. Please accept it.

Sakyo: No, please do. If you cannot, then my feelings will not be able to recover.

Sakyo: Phew… now I will be able to breathe in relief.

Tsuzuramaru: I’m really sorry, Miss. I got you involved in all that… Haha, seeing you able to laugh like that, it’s already something I can appreciate.

Suzukake: Ah, a customer is calling for you. Sorry for disturbing your work.

Saneaki: Don’t mind us, you should go back to work.

Kei: We’ll call you after we decide what to order.

Tsuzuramaru: Even though we caused nothing but trouble for her… she’s still… such a kind-hearted girl!

Sakyo: Yes, I agree.

Enishi: That’s because she's that kind of princess. That’s why we can’t stop watching her. Ignoring the whole thing with the cloth dealer’s young master, a wonderful woman like her, even if it was someone else we wouldn’t let her go easily.

Saneaki: The so-called fusion of reality and rumors. The customers watch over her too.

Suzukake: You’re right… they’re looking at her and talking about something. 

Tsuzuramaru: Shh. Don’t talk…

Suzukake: What’s wrong? All of a sudden...

Tsuzuramaru: Those men over there, just now, they were talking about the rumours about Miss… 

Tsuzuramaru: WHAAAAT!!

Tsuzuramaru: This time… he wants to get married to Miss???

Everyone: WHAT?!

Sakyo: I have had enough of this!!

[futurewriter2000]

Morning Love 22. 07. 2021

"Kiss me." I said when I looked deep into his eyes. He looked at me from from the kitchen, eyes smiling, his lips twirling into such a lovely, bright smile before realising I was serious. I knew I looked like I had walked out of a wolf's den but I couldn't contain my thoughts when I saw him making scrambled eggs in his oversized shirt and shorts. His hair was so long, greasy and slicked back but they suited him better than it would on anybody. Maybe if I saw it on somebody else, I would think they would need to wash their hair once or twice a week. Not on him. No, he could be covered in mutt and still look so goddamn gorgeous. It must have been the morning daze, when you look at someone for the first time in the day. There aren't no masks on, no problems on the surface yet. Everybody is still asleep in their head and their whole concentration is on breakfast and coffee. In the morning, nobody isn't prepared to take on the day at full speed. Maybe few hours later, I'd be able to tell him more than just those two words but right now whether I wanted to or not was for him to indeed kiss me.

And when she spoke those two words, I thought she was teasing me as usual. I thought this girl could never get out of her skin of constantly cracking a joke every chance she could get, not even in the morning hours. I removed the pan from the stove and smiled at her. I wanted to say something back but the look in her eyes was, for once, quite serious. She stood there in her dark grey leggings and my oversized white shirt. Her hair that were yesterday wet from rain, today washed and dried in a frizzy, messy hair. She usually wore a ponytail, braids or a bun when we were together. It was today when I realised how long her hair really was. Long and soft that made me want to run my fingers through them. Her eyes were drowsy but now they were wide awake from the anticipation. I think she too didn't know why she had blurted it out like that. It must be her spontaneous personality. 'Kiss me, love me, love me again because I love you.' was what I could hear from her eyes. That thought might make me narcissistic and she had pointed that out bluntly to me many times. I didn't know what she saw in me. I didn't know how could she love somebody like me. "How can you ever tell me that?" I let out a laugh, though I was serious in my question. I was the oddest person. I was irresponsible, impulsive and I could count times I had hurt her, ignored and let her feel less than she deserves. I'm a horrible person. Sometimes I still wonder why the hell she still didn't give up on me, or leave like the rest of people did. The truth is, I don't know how I would live without her, knowing a person like her exists in this world. I don't think I would fight for her to stay because I do understand why she would leave. It's an ugly thought that keeps me awake sometimes. I'd probably die if she ever did leave me. No girl, no person had ever made me felt like I am worthy of loving until this girl came into my life and lit up my life every time she entered the room I was in. Smiles, jokes, pranks... this girl is perfect for me but guess what? I am not so perfect for her. I would kiss her when she stands there all puffy and messy- this gorgeous, angelic girl with eyes that glow. Romantic, innocent... innocent... I can't take that away from her. I wouldn't live with myself if I would. I'd break her.

"Morning love." I smiled at him and grabbed the two plates from the cabinet. I was right next to him, feeling all sorts of things fill my heart, lungs and stomach. He always made me feel so nervous but so comfortable as well. I knew it was useless with him; to try anything serious. He wasn't the type to commit and I wasn't the type to commit to somebody who wasn't serious. Oddly, I was prepared to throw all of that mentality away for him because he makes me feel things that are out of this world. When I'm with him and when I'm without him, I feel like I am in two completely different worlds. It changes with only an eye contact. "I never do mornings but when I do, I tend to consume every bit of it with an open heart. All I see are-"

"-flowers, sunshine, rainbow... all the beautiful things in life." I mocked her a little.

"And you." I winked at him before leaving to the dining table, small and round. It reminds me of the one my grandparents used to have.

"Thank you!" I proudly shouted after her. It was like a movie, me and her. We were like the main two characters of the movie. Could you believe me that when she reached out for those plates, she smelled like- not a parfume but her natural smell of a woman. It reminded me of vanilla but it really wasn't vanilla. It was her own vanilla. Or coconut... something of a mix. Her hair- hah! Her lion hair might as well had a glaze over them for how they shimmered in the morning light. There seemed to be three shades of brown and seven shades of black on her head but overall, they always matched the colour of her eyes.

He brought the pan right after me and shared the scrambled eggs he had just made. "We should really go grocery shopping for you." I said as I grabbed the bowl of cereal and threw it into my mouth.

"It's that obvious, huh?" I laughed. "Plus I believe the last time we went grocery shopping together, it didn't turn out great."

"We didn't go grocery shopping, we went snack shopping. Plus you were the one to make fun of the grocery lady."

"She was being a cunt."

"Aren't we all?"

"In secret. Not in front of the customers." I scoffed and she laughed. I loved when she laughed. She had an adorable, bright laugh that could ring in your ears forever and you wouldn't get tired of it.

"I think you're the last person to please the customers. Maybe she's your karma."

"For what?! I'm real nice to all my customers."

I raised my eyebrow at him but he didn't want to budge.

She raised her eyebrow at me but I didn't want to budge. I knew she was right but both of us can play the stare game and I know she can't look long enough into my eyes without turning away.

His eyes were too pretty to look at but I could feel my cheeks flush, so I looked away as soon as possible. "I'll believe it when I'll see it."

Told you. She always looks away first, though sometimes I wish she'd last a little longer. Her eyes are the kind that stay in your memory forever. I believe when I'll be on my death bed, the last eyes I will see, will be hers. Few months ago, I would kiss her if she told me so but now I know too well, I shouldn't. Maybe it's because I'm afraid to know what it will feel like. What if I fall in love with her? I am so mesmerised with her already that kissing her would be the last step of wanting to be committed to her forever. I already cannot find a better friend than her, let alone kiss another person and think of her kiss. Maybe if the kiss would be bad, it would be easier to believe otherwise but I would never allow to let her have a bad first kiss from me. No, I'd put all my passion, all my desires and every power of kissing to give her the best kiss in her whole life. I just don't want to because if I do, how will she ever let me go? How will I let her go? No, she has to leave me. She has to abandon me but...

I could feel his gaze on me. Something always told me that it was the love gaze, the bedazzled gaze, the mesmerised gaze that he kept giving me sometimes. He would just stare at me and I knew he was drawing me into his memory...

... not just yet.

[astranne]

Crossover Harry Potter/Heroes of Olymp

Next idea. But in the beginning, I have to say, I didn’t read the Harry Potter books at all and never really saw a whole movie. Shame on me. And I never really have the time, I mean yes, I could watch it now and so, but I want to do a marathon, it isn’t really the smartest idea, but who cares? So all the stuff I know about Harry Potter is because of Fanfic and Google. I love Draco Malfoy Fics, just because. And this one is too gonna be about Draco. I think Draco became a death eater in fifth year, if I calculated it correctly. But eh, it’s midnight, and I should be sleeping because I’m tired as fuck. Do I care? Nah, not really. Okay so, prepare for long idea and pure mindblow. And another information, Percy Jackson is female (I love these fics) and is called Rhea Atalante Jackson. 

So, let’s get started. First, Lucius Malfoy blood adopted Draco. Now you ask, who is his real father? Motherfucking Jupiter. Narcissa knows and raises Draco with stories about the myths. So basically, the reason why Lucius is such an asshole to Draco is because he’s not his trueborn son. To please his father and fool all the other purebloods families, Draco acts like a brat. He still isn’t the biggest fan of muggleborns, but doesn’t hate them. He would really like to be friends with Harry and Hermione, because they are smart and loyal and all the stuff. Ron not so, but yeah, he has to act like they way he acts.

Anyway. When Draco became ten, his mother brought him to Lupa, he passed the test and went to New Rome. There he learned to fight, met his half brother, Jason, and did all the roman stuff they do there. So basically he’s in the summer holidays with his roman family. When he’s twelve, his real father gifts him with a ring. If he pulls it of his finger, it becomes a sword. If he turns the ring right (still on his finger) it becomes a spear, and if he turns left, the ring becomes a bow. 

Because Draco went to Hogwarts, he ‘missed’ the Second Titan war. His mother doesn’t want that Dumbledore discovers that there are half bloods. But he still sneaked out and helped the romans as good as he could. And yeah, everything happens a year earlier, so in the Second Titan War, Rhea is fifteen. 

Anyway, Voldemort rises and he asks for help. And he knows exactly who. 

When the gods are bored, they go to the mortal world and they are often bored. So there is no surprise, when the gods made themself a name in the wizarding world. A random first name and as the family name Olýmpios. Which means olympian. How creative (*cough* I just don’t have better ideas *cough*) Anyway. The stories say, that magic started in greece, with the godess Hecate. And these  Olýmpios are descendants of gods. As an example, Poseidon just says he’s a descendant of Poseidon and he’s really good with potions and all water spells. You get it? So, everybody knows, that the greek and roman wizards are the most powerful ones and also have the biggest population. Because they don’t care about this pureblood shit, as they say, for them it’s just important, that the family grows and that they have a heir. Ouf- now let’s go to Voldemorts plan. 

So, Voldemort asks for help, and the olympians (well, Zeus, Hades and Poseidon) tell him to fuck of. They had a war, tell him this, and they don’t want to go in a other one. When Voldemort then asks just for like three wizards, like the children of the big three, Poseidon nearly explodes. Because no, his daughter deserves a break! Voldemort almost pisses himself. Well, not almost. He did piss himself. Hades surprisingly is the diplomatic one and says him, he can come a year later. But then Zeus finds out, that Voldemort wants to make Draco a death eater and warns him. If he marks children, they will be at war. Voldemort doesn’t really take him seriously and just nods. Because he’s dumb and thinks he’s the greatest.

So anyway, the whole shit for the Secon Giant war starts, the two camps prepare. Draco finally meets Rhea and the everyone starts betting, when the world ends (destroyed) or they two come together. Draco helps as good as he can in the war, but still has to be careful with Dumbledore and Harry, especially, when Dumbledore molded Harry in the perfect little hero. (Personally, I think Dumbledore is a manipulative litte shit) 

Anyway (so many anyways)

The war ends after the fifth year in Hogwarts. Voldemort wants to make Draco a death eater but he informs his father. Mysteriously it storms in England for nearly a week. So, the big three come to the Malfoy Manor (I think Voldemort stays there?) and burst in the middle of a meeting. (Snape is no part of this) Rhea, Jason and Nico are also there, dressed as former preator, ‘priest’ and ambassador of New Rome. The three gods stare Voldemort down, the death eaters just look at the six with wide eyes, until Nico casually says, that Voldemorts soul looks really sick.

“Father, his soul... it’s broken... he should be dead, but... there are missing peaces...” Most of the death eaters understand what he means and don’t really care.

“Say, Voldy... how did you manage that, when you’re not even a part of a purebood family. As I know, there is no way, muggles can split souls in six? Seven parts?” 

Slowly everybody turns to Voldemort, who begins to sweat. Now he fucked up. He sees, how the Olýmpios are glaring at him, but the girl just grins. So he does the most stupid thing and attacks her, uses the Imperius Cruse, well he tries. He orders her, to kill her family and she slowly takes out her pen, it becomes her sword and looks with a blank face at her father. Voldemort grins smugly, but then sees, that her father doesn’t try to defend himself. Before he knows, Rhea attacks him. His followers watch helplessly, how he’s dying. 

“Never, never try to control someone with the blood of gods, you stupid, ugly, noseless bitch.”

Voldemort is wheezing, but Hades doesn’t let him die. The Olýmpios are summonding all the Horcruxes and destroy them before his eyes. But the final blow was, when Voldemort tried to make one of the Olýmpios against his will to a death eater. Within minutes, Voldemort lost all the support he once had. When all his crimes were exposed, Rhea rammed Riptide in his neck. 

Naturally now everyone wants to know, who the other Olýmpios is, so Draco stands besides his brother and father. Zeus explains everything in short words, glaring at everyone, especially at Lucius.

But now the former death eaters have a problem... what to do now? Rhea suggests that they just pretend to be death eaters, until they come up with a new plan. They imidiatly agree, because she was the one who killed Voldemort, resisted an Imperius Cruse and is an Olýmpios. Basically the next Dark Lady.

ugh- I already wrote so much, but I’m not even in the middle, I think...

The three brothers brainstorming (sure a funny thing) and then explain their plans to their children. The magic world is pretty fucked up, this whole pureblood shit is just one thing. But the biggest problem, the idea that the light wizards are good and the dark ones are the bad. Which is not true. Every wizard and every witch is born with a core and this core has a color, between black and white. When you have a dark core, dark spells and rituals are more powerful then the light ones. The same thing with the light cores. And a grey one is just in the middle. Magic is not bad, magic just exists. Use it for good or for bad. Use it for selfish reasons or help others. So, the three gods want the wizarding world to realise that. 

Jason has a job to do, Hades wants Nico near to him, which leaves Rhea. She doesn’t want another quest, but when Darco said, he would help her, she just shrugged. So, why not?

Rhea will now attend to Hogwarts, the sixth year. Together with Darco she expands her power and the power of her family and operate in the shadows. (spooky and mysterious) Before Zeus goes back to Olymp, he gifts Draco with a dragon, saying every wizard should have a familiar. (It’s basically Toothlees frome how to tame a dragon, but like twice the size)

So, Rhea begins plotting and in this fic I think, that Rhea is still the cheery demigod but after Tartarus, there is something underneath that. Naturally she tries to hide it, but now, in the middle of politics and all that stuff, she can be ruthless and destroy everybody, who stands in her way. And if something goes wrong, Draco was still near and he can hold up with her. (because he’s a demigod and has magic, so he’s nearly or as powerful as Rhea) 

She let’s all the former death eaters swear on styx, that they will never reveal something about the Olýmpios, not without their permission. And then she let’s the biggest bomb drop. She’s the daughter of Poseidon and Draco the son of Jupiter. The wizards and witches are losing their shit, because they have been in the same room with three fucking gods and then the most powerful ones! So, Rhea tells about her world, who she fought, who she pissed of and so on. Draco is grinning like a cheshire cat, when he realizes, that the respect her more, than anybody else. And she didn’t even really realize it, until he told her. 

So... Rhea and Draco are pulling strings, making their group bigger and even get some trustworthy ‘light’ wizards and witches in. Slowly but steady they began to expand, word travels fast, after all. And then the 1st September came. Hecate blessed her, giftet her with a wand, but told her she wouldn’t really need it. Poseidon gifted Rhea with a hawk, because owls still hate her (yk, Athena) and brought her to the King’s Cross Station. For the first time Rhea saw her father in a suit, which was totally weird for her. But her father wanted to play with mortals, showing their powers of and such. (a little bit Drama Queen style, but who cares?) So, there is a tall, muscular man, good looking and totally rich and has a gorgeous daughter at his side. She’s wearing a blue woman suit (she began to love them, she looks really badass in them) on her shoulder a hawk and smiling at Draco Malfoy. Nearly everyone observed the Malfoys interact with the two strangers. When then also Blaise Zabini with his mother came and greeted the two, even more tried to listen their conversation. Well, tried. Rhea said good bye to her father with a hug, nodded to the other three adults, while they muttered ‘my lady’. She forced herself to smile, oh how she hated, when someone called her my Lady. 

So the three of them stalking of to the train like royality, which they are... well, Blaise was a grandson of Aphrodite, but yeah. So, the three talking in ancient greek, because they are sure some of the students understand more then just latin spell words. Naturally we need some drama, so one Pansy Parkinson please. She asking, who the bloody Merlin this girl is. 

“Oh, my apologies. My name is Rhea Atalante Jackson, pleasure to meet you.” Pansy naturally sneered. 

“You gather yourself with a mudblood?” Darco is smirking, while Blaise just chuckles. 

“Bold of you to asume, that Rhea is a muggleborn, Parkinson.” 

“The Jacksons are a small but wealthy pureblood family in America”, which was true, but her mother had been adopted, nobody needed to know that.

“And it is the name of my mother. I am sure you saw my father, no? Well, he is one of the heads of a big greek and roman family.” Pansy paled, she knew exactly, what Rhea hinted. 

“But it is good to know, what people truly think, when they see a normal person, no?” Rhea grinned her famous wolf grin, the other girl just fleed. 

Word spread like fire and when they arrived, everybody seemed to know, that an Olýmpios was now going to Hogwarts. Well, almost everybody. The golden trio didn’t know. And here comes the next drama. The three are whispering about the new girl, after Ron pointed at her. 

“I’m sure, she’s just another pureblood who hates muggleborns”, said Hermione stifly. Rhea smirked and walked next to the three.

“My mother never knew, she had magic, because her parents died, when she was very young and she was adopted, so I lived like a muggle. I had an abusive step-father and was seen as a freak. I meet my father in age of twelve and was nearly killed by my uncles. In age of fiften I fulfilled a prophecy, this summer again. I lived through two wars, lost many friends and loved ones. I am not just another pureblood... I am from the pureblood family. My father is a descendant of Poseidon and so am I. I am an Olýmpios, a descendant of the big three. I have more power than any of you. And we Olýmpios don’t hate muggleborns, we are open minded, not like you, Miss Granger. Prejudices do not help you in the world, I am sure, such a smart witch like you should know that. A good day.” Rhea grinned at Draco, while she walked to him. She hated to talk so formaly, but hey! She also loved to be sassy and piss people off. 

The next thing full of drama was her sorting. She would’ve really appreciated, when they did this in private, not when the whole school watched. Because... she also pissed of the sorting hat. Somehow. She told him, not to dig too deep into her memories and not to judge her, but did he listen? No, he saw Tartarus and yelled (the whole school heard it) “What in Merlins name did you down there? Girl, are you mad?” 

“Hey! I told you not to-”

“And this! You fought against-” Rhea wanted to kill the hat, while he babbled more. 

“Oh, girl! Either you are really really dumb or just too loyal for your own good. It runs probably in the family.” Rhea decided to ignore the comment at the end.

“Well, somebody once told me, I would destroy the world for a friend.” The hat frowned, while the whole school watched. 

“Or you would kill yourself, dear Merlin-”

“You nearly killed a bloody go-” 

“Don’t! Just tell me, where the Hades I should go!” 

“Hmmm... interesting, rather- oh!” Rhea pinched the bridge of her nose by the dramatics of the sorting hat.

“Soo... you are the most loyal witch I ever saw! You are also very brave and smart! But Ravenclaw isn’t the right thing, you are more into battle strategies... hmmm... now... the Gryffindors wouldn’t really survive you and the Hufflepuffs are too proper for you... SLYTHERIN!”

“Thank the gods, fuckin’ talkin’ hat, I swear to Hades, this is just my dam life”, she muttered, while she walked to the Slytherin table. Her housemates cheered loudly, they had an Olýmpios in their house after all.

Hogwarts was Rhea’s favourite school. Nobody tried to piss her off, the headmaster was shit but didn’t talk to her, most teachers were alright or even good. Magic was a funny thing and oh- how she loved, that many teachers were pissed but also impressed that she wrote in ancient greek. But she decided to play nice and wrote in Latin, which impressed her teacher even more. Her and Draco often snuck out in the middle of the night to train and to spend time with Blackjack and Dracos dragon, Nightwing. They killed some monsters, spoke with some centaurs in the forbidden forest and planned new steps. 

So. And while all this shit happens there is some sexual tension between Draco and Rhea. Both don’t realise it, until Blaise literally shouts in their face, that they should finally kiss. They do. After some cute awkwardness.

Oh boy- so much... anyway

The two finish 6th school year as a couple, after some drama with other girls. In summer Rhea and Draco hold some meetings and explain, what exactly is their goal. Like, plan the fall of Dumbledore (who still didn’t realize Voldy is dead) and his followers, beat some sense into Harry and spread the Olýmpios’ way of magic through the wizarding world. 

And then comes the final year. Probably much drama and some helpless golden trio, which has no idea, what the fuck is going on. Rhea doesn’t care, she watches how the chaos unfolds. In the meanwhile, some of her followers work together with Rita Seeker, to expose Dumbledores crimes. It takes some time, to find all witnesses and proofs, but in the middle of the school year, there is a big article from Seeker. It hurts Dumbledores reputation pretty much, the world finds out, that their hero was placed with abusive muggles and so on. 

Dumbledore tries to reduce the damage, but then comes again an article. And again and again. Dumbledore watches helpless, how he looses all his power and followers. Well almost. Hermione can’t belive it, Ron just doesn’t care but Harry has his doubts. He dugs a little deeper and finds out, that the parents never have been notified, when something happend in the school. Harry distances himself from his friends and Dumbledore, who now panics. The hero of the magic world won’t follow him anymore! Rhea takes a swing and talks with him, about nearly everything. He asks about her prophecies and how war really is, how it is to kill someone and all this deep stuff. And he decides, that this Rhea Olýmpios really isn’t like other purebloods. She’s kind, nice, friendly and a talented witch. Slowly, he spends more time with her, which leads automatically to be with other Slytherins, like Draco or Blaise. But Harry doesn’t care anymore. And he sets something in motion, now every house tries to connect more with the others. Well, they try, but Gryffindors are mostly jerks. Harry also admits, before some people, that he would be in Slytherin but asked the hat to sort him with his friends. Word travels fast and now everybody thinks, that Slytherins aren’t that bad. I mean, the hero of the britain wizarding world and an Olýmpios are in this house, so it can’t be that bad. 

Dumbledore finally has a talk with Rhea, where she tells him, that Voldemort is dead. He doesn’t belive it, but she just shruggs and tells him, she was the one who killed him. After all, he tried to control her and wanted her to kill her family. Dumbledore is absolutly taken back and has no idea, what to do now. All his hard work, for nothing! While he panics, Rhea just smirks and watches again the chaos to unfold.

Rhea goes again to Rita Seeker and makes an interview. She tells the world, that she killed Voldemort, because he threatend her family and wanted to go at war with them, just because they didn’t support him. She also tells, that she had been already in two wars and doesn’t wants another one. The witches and wizards are losing their shit, everyone tought it would be Harry who would kill him. But then an Olýmpios and just ends this? She also tells about the Olýmpios way to use magic. Many agree with that, Dumbledore and his closest followers just panic, while many literally begin to worship Rhea. It gains her even more respect, when she tells them all to fuck off, she killed Voldy, it’s okay now, please move on. 

So, we’re nearly in the end. 

When almost the whole magic world follows the way of the Olýmpios, Rhea reveals the final truth. Gods still exist and one of them is her father. They like it, when people burn food for them and so on. Zeus is satisfied, that now more mortals belive in the gods. 

Rhea and Draco become the abassadors of the godly world and represent their fathers. They turn the whole wizarding world upside down, improve the politics and all this stuff. And they marry some years later. 

Ugh, I’m finally finished. I wrote so much- 

Anyway, if there are some mistakes, I wrote this in the middle of the night, I’m swiss and can’t really speak english ._.

If someone wants to make a story, tag me, so I can read it!

Masterlist

[keiththespacekitty]

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Trans Klance fic.

Tw: dysphoria, fear of rejection, Lance deadnames himself because he feels comfortable to do so.

It had been in his head for a while now- ever since it happened. Keith wasn't the type to get anxious, so the ball in the pit of his stomach was unfamiliar to him. He was pacing around, going for jogs around the castle, punching a punchbag, anything he could to satisfy his fight or flight response long enough to manage to put down some food without nausea rearing its ugly head. The words kept repeating over and over in his head- however benign they may have been, they still filled him with panic. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

It wasn't aimed at him- it was aimed at Pidge. But the idea that she'd kept her agab disclosed and had explicitly been using he/him pronouns, and still was seen as a girl, made Keith feel like everything was futile. The years of confusion and self discovery and finally gaining the confidence to start identifying as he truly felt- they all felt unravelled with that single sentence. It didn't matter who he was or what he did or how he felt. She, she, she. It was like a mantra in Keith's head, a constant intrusive misgendering. 

Keith felt sick and trapped. He felt like everybody was waiting for him to reveal he was a girl- that no matter what, that's how they would always see him, like it would have been easier to give up on himself. He didn't want to give up his identity. He was trapped in space and trapped in an awkward void of identity versus perceived identity.

He avoided everyone for the next few days. He couldn't bare it. Couldn't bare knowing everyone saw him as strikingly female. That no matter how much he would bind, no matter how many times he'd stabbed himself with a needle, no matter how much he let some stubble grow or how deep his voice was, all people would see him as was a walking womb- because that's exactly how the world saw women. He was a feminist- of course he was. He wasn't transitioning because he thought ill of womanhood- he was doing it because womanhood simply wasn't his to grow into and he loved himself enough to be honest about his identity. 

He knew that people found that hard to understand. He knew people found it hard to accept. He knew that everyone saw him differently, that everyone was waiting to bombard him with personal questions about what's in his pants, if he's had "the surgery" (which one? There's loads), how people like him have sex or kids. Everyone was always waiting like vultures to cross his boundaries and ask him questions and chastise him for "mutilating" his body and "ruining" his beauty and his chances at love. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Keith couldn't get the words out of his head. 

And they weren't even aimed at him.

Pathetic. He thought of himself as pathetic. Lying in his bed with his face pressed into his pillow fighting back tears. This wasn't just pain. This was existential pain. This was his entire identity and he felt like his world was crumbling away. He knew who he was, and he was screaming out, but it wasn't right, his body wasn't right, the way people saw him wasn't right, because it didn't match. It didn't feel like his. Objectively he knew his body was great. It would be amazing on someone else. Except it wasn't on someone else. It was on him and his skin was crawling and writhing with the ghosts of expectations and the tendrils of dysphoria and incongruence that gripped him tightly and made a home under his skin. 

He read the Map Woman. Sure, the poem was about a woman, about her origins staying with her, but he could relate. He could relate to feeling like your past was branding you, he could relate to the urge to cover and shed it, but he also knew that it shaped him, painted him- his past was a part of him that he couldn't erase and it was important that he make peace with who he was and where he comes from in order for his skin to settle. He knew that his journey was important, and it was home- his past and his future didn't need to be at odds. They weren't two parallel lives- they were a map of who he was, the experiences that shaped him and his identity- his past and his present would shape his future, where new valleys and roads would embed themselves onto him. His past would remain deep within his bones so that his future could thrive beneath his skin. The old gives way to the new. Identity was a tower. You couldn't take away the deep roots of your past without the top collapsing down. His past, his pain, his journey- was important to him. Even if painful, it was significant because of that pain. He couldn't erase where he came from, when it led him to where he was now. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Yes.

It was as simple as yes.

Yes, they were supposed to think he was a boy, because he was a boy, and only he got to decide his gender. They didn't get to force him into a box that wasn't his to sit in. 

He was allowed to put his foot down. He was allowed to set boundaries. Of course, he understood that people were allowed to be curious and confused, but he was still allowed to define his own identity and have it respected. He was allowed to fight for himself.

It was scary. 

Gods, it was so scary. But Keith knew that if he wanted to control his identity, he had to face the source of his insecurity. He had to leave his room.

He found himself on the training deck first- fight or flight, to quell the anxiety. He knew he'd be alone, so he could train safely without his binder trying to suffocate him for his stupidity. He managed to get in a good hour or so of training, before letting his feet carry him to the one place he knew everyone would be- at lunch.

He knew that lunch was the best time to rejoin the group. Hunk would immediately greet him with a "welcome back, buddy," and an extra large helping of food goo, and he could focus on eating and keep his head down and over the next few meals Hunk would gently coax him out of his shell and encourage others to engage too until it was no longer awkward. Hunk was good at understanding Keith's anxiety. 

So Keith did his best to work through the deep churning feeling, the unsettling writhing in his gut when the tendrils of anxiety gripped him tight and settled there. He walked in, and avoided eye contact, and sat down at the table. But Hunk didn't welcome him back in a casual tone.

"Keith?"

"Hunk."

Hunk gently set his food in front of him. "I saved you the best bits," he said, but he lingered.

"What?"

"Keith, buddy, we're all worried about you."

"I'm fine," Keith said, but he immediately regretted it. No, he was not fine, and he was screaming out for help inside, trapped behind the prison of his fear. 

"Keith, we both know that was a lie here. This isn't you."

"Isolating myself isn't me?"

"Well I mean- fair point. But we all know something's wrong, Keith. And it's okay if you aren't ready to trust us with what yet, but if there's anything that we can do to help or support you through this, we want to know. We're here for you."

The words swirled around in his mind again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

He couldn't push them away.

"I need you to-... remind me who I am, again," Keith forced out quickly, "I need you to tell me how you see me. I just… I need to know."

"Keith," Hunk began firmly, "what's going on?"

"Nothing, I just-" Keith sighed awkwardly. He wanted to say, he needed to. But his fear stopped him. He sat there, tense, trying to keep his breathing steady and trying to push down the lump in his throat. Keith didn't cry. Not like this. Not for himself. Never for himself. Especially- especially not in front of a crowd.

"Keith, buddy?" Lance was looking at him in a way Keith couldn't recognise- at least, not on Lance's face. Lance looked like he hadn't slept out of concern. Keith had never seen him like this before. He felt guilty for causing it.

"It's just- it's hard," Keith managed. Of course, Lance's face lit up with mischief- he'd always try to lighten the mood.

"It's hard, huh, am I that attractive that my mere presence-"

"I'M NOT SOME GIRL YOU CAN FLIRT WITH, LANCE!"

Keith regretted snapping almost immediately. Lance was shocked, scared even, and Keith hadn't even realised he'd stood up and balled his fists. Lance finally began to stammer out an apology. "I- I'm sorry, I- I won't-"

"Look, I get that you might not wanna be flirted with," Pidge began firmly, "but maybe you could have worded that better."

"I'm not a girl, I'm not like you," Keith practically growled out. He realised too late why Pidge seemed angry- it wasn't because they thought he was a girl. It was because they didn't know. They didn't know he was trans. And Lance was flirting with him anyways. And it sounded like Keith was implying that Lance should only flirt with girls.

"If you don't wanna be flirted with, that's fine, we understand, but if you have a problem with Lance liking guys then get out of my sight!"

"Pidge, that isn't what I-"

The words haunted him yet again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

But this time Keith felt ready to confront them. 

"Pidge, I'm not-"

"Not what?!"

"I'm not homophobic. I- I reacted the way I did because-"

"Because why?"

"Because I didn't realise Lance was gay. So I thought he was flirting with me because he saw me as a girl."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Pidge countered. 

The fear gripped Keith again. He was afraid of hearing those words again. 

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

But he needed to scream out his truth.

"I'm trans." Keith was met with silence. "That's what I meant by I'm not like you. And that's what I meant when I snapped at Lance. Because I thought he saw me as a girl. And- that's why I've been hiding in my room, since… since you revealed your agab. Because- because Coran said- 'We were supposed to think you were a boy?'. Like- you- you hadn't given us your deadname, Pidge, you hadn't- you hadn't stopped using he/him pronouns. You were outwardly identifying as fully male. And yes, you aren't, and it really was just a disguise for you, so it probably didn't hurt you to be told you weren't very convincing as a boy."

Keith glanced around the room. They were silent, but it seemed to be because they were genuinely listening. 

"But it hurt me," Keith continued, "because it felt like those words applied to me too. That- everyone somehow knew, and that everyone was secretly seeing me as female. That people felt like I was just faking it. That in everyone's heads was 'oh that weird girl still thinks we see her as a boy'. That everyone could see right through me. That everyone saw me as a ruse, and an unconvincing one at that. And I'm not. I'm not- I'm not like you, Pidge. I'm not pretending to be a guy to sneak into school. It doesn't fill me with relief to hear people knew how I was born like it did with you. I'm trans. And I'm scared. I'm scared because my agab follows me around and I feel like I can't escape it. I felt like you all saw me as a girl, like you were all waiting for me to come clean. And I couldn't stand it anymore, so… yeah."

He looked around the room again.

"You were supposed to think I was a boy."

Keith finally took a deep breath, attempting to relax his body, but it immediately clenched up again. He felt so stupid. He must have been passing excellently and now he'd just outed himself and now they really would think he was a girl. He took a shaky breath, fighting the tears. He didn't want to cry, not like this. He froze up when Lance stood too.

"Keith, buddy…"

Keith forced out a breath that was threatening to spill tears, but the breath came out all too fast and all too shaky. 

"I'm sorry I made you so uncomfortable with my flirting. I guess I- I never felt a need to come out. I mean I know you've seen me flirting with Allura and Nyma and… a lot of alien chicks, but I'm actually bi. I didn't realise that you didn't know I was flirting with you because I'm actually bi and into dudes too. I didn't know that you thought I only liked girls and that you'd think I saw you as a girl, otherwise I would have clarified. I've just always been open about it, you know? I haven't exactly tried to hide it, I just genuinely thought that everybody already knew. And I know that it isn't my fault, before you say that, I know you don't blame me and I know I'm not at fault. I'm just apologising for the way you got hurt."

"Why would you even flirt with me," Keith asked brokenly, "why now?"

"I've kinda been flirting with you since the garrison, Keith," Lance began awkwardly. Keith heard a crunch- Pidge had fucking popcorn for this. 

"I didn't know you at the garrison-"

"Taylor."

"What?"

"You remember Taylor, right?"

"I mean yeah, she was always behind me in class with some stupid rivalr- ooohhhh."

"I started transitioning just after you left. So everyone here already knows I'm trans and knows my deadname. I assumed you did too. When I met you again I kinda assumed you'd recognise me so I brought up our rivalry and my name in the hope you'd like. Not call me my deadname not realising I was a guy. Then you didn't recognise me so a part of me was really glad but the other part was kinda disappointed. So yeah… I'm also trans and I may have a teensy crush on you."

"You have a what now?"

"I mean I'm kinda relieved you're trans too because like I was scared that- well I'm sure you understand the fear of dating as a trans person with the whole people seeing you as your agab thing or the very very tiny possibility of someone being attracted to you-"

"Lance."

"What?"

"You said you have a crush on me."

"I very suddenly have training to do-"

Keith grabbed Lance's arm before he could leave, and Lance flamed bright red. Keith wasn't one to confront his feelings, at all, but he was upfront and he wanted answers. "Lance."

"Okay, fine, yes, I happen to think you're very attractive and somehow I like your dumb personality too! I've been trying to flirt with you but you're oblivious and I'm scared and I know you're Keith and you don't feel things other than 'Keith smash face with sword' so I know you don't feel the same about a nobody like me-"

"Shut up, Lance!" Lance immediately shut up. "I don't mean like- don't talk about your feelings. I do want to listen to you and address these insecurities. But I need you to be quiet and I need you to push those aside for a moment because I need you to be direct with me here. When you say you have a crush on me, do you mean from a distance, or do you mean you'd pursue a relationship with me if you thought you had a chance?"

"My answer depends on if- on a scale of one to ten; one being a stab in the face and ten being decapitating me and slicing me into cat food sized chunks, how violently will you stab me if I say yes to the second one?"

"Lance…" Keith sighed, and lowered his hand on Lance's arm until he was holding his hand gently. He didn't know what to say- but Keith was impulsive and brash, so he didn't- he grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him as hard as he could. He would have regretted it if he didn't know Lance felt the same way. When he pulled back, Lance was puce across his cheekbones and to the tips of his ears. Keith only registered where he was when he heard the crunch of popcorn from Pidge. And then Keith turned scarlet. 

He was suddenly very aware of his surroundings and the audience, and very aware of the fact he'd just kissed Lance. "Gross," Keith protested, "do it again."

"Kiss me yourself you lazy quiznack," Lance protested. 

"Well I'm not kissing you again until you kiss me first!"

"Fine! Well I'm not kissing you until you kiss me, whoever caves first owes the other a week of laundry and I haven't done my laundry since we first arrived here!"

"That's gross, Lance," Keith said, "and you're on. I haven't done my laundry in a month." 

"Oh quiznack, you guys are gonna be so annoying," Pidge sighed. 

"Can we eat now that's all sorted," Hunk asked awkwardly, "because the sooner we eat the sooner I can bake like- a huge cake to celebrate you guys-"

"Hunk, no," Pidge sighed. 

"Hunk yes, because love is beautiful and love deserves good food to commemorate it- hey where'd Lance and Keith go?" That was the last thing Keith heard from the kitchen as he pulled Lance towards the training deck.

The words repeated one more time in his head.

"We were supposed to think you were a boy?"

Except this time, they didn't bother him. 

[roman-writing]

you search the mountain (2/4)

Fandom: World of Warcraft

Pairing: Jaina Proudmore / Sylvanas Windrunner

Rating: M

Wordcount: 20,005

Summary: The borders of Kul Tiras are closed to all outsiders. Sylvanas, Banshee Queen, hopes to use the impending civil war in Boralus to her advantage, and thereby lure Kul Tiras to the side of the Horde. A Drust AU

Content Advisory: horror, blood, gore, typical Drustvar spooky deer shit

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

Notes: I swear this was supposed to be a horror story and not a comedy

--

The sun was beginning to set in earnest. It slanted through the vasty boughs of Gol Inath. Everything was cast in a fading lavender hue, which slowly slipped to something darker. The runes carved into the archway seemed to come alive in the gathering shadows. Overhead, a few ravens wheeled in circles, while others still perched in watchful silence. The eyes of nocturnal animals lurked through the underbrush along the outskirts of the clearing, and though she and the High Thornspeaker were the only two people present, Sylvanas could not help but feel that they were not alone. 

“You’re Jaina Proudmoore?” Sylvanas could not keep the disbelief from her tone. 

Rather than be muffled by the skull, the sound of Jaina's voice seemed to reverberate from within a cave of hollow bone. “I don’t recall telling you my family name. That and the fact you thought I was Ulfar means I’m obviously the one you’re looking for. Why?”

Sylvanas let her gaze rove across Jaina. She had been expecting a slip of a girl. Maybe twenty years old. But while Sylvanas could not see Jaina’s face, her hair was mostly white, streaked with gold, and pulled into a braid over one shoulder. “You’re older than I thought you’d be.” 

“An intruder and a flatterer. Will wonders never cease?” There was a surprising flair of dry humour in Jaina’s words. “Now, I am even more puzzled. Did I kill you?”

At that, Sylvanas let loose a snort of laughter. “No.”

“Well, that’s good. Otherwise this would be awkward. Or -- well -- more awkward, anyway,” said Jaina. When she shifted her weight, Sylvanas glanced down. It was then she realised that Jaina’s bare feet, like her hands, seemed to be carved from the same wood as her staff. “Were you hoping I could reverse your…” she waved a clawed and wood-gnarled hand towards Sylvanas. “...unique condition?” 

It was so reminiscent of Katherine -- the movements, the phrasing, the timbre of her voice, the overall mannerisms -- that Sylvanas no longer harboured any doubts that this was, in fact, Jaina Proudmoore. Or at least someone very closely related to the Lord Admiral. Good enough. 

Shaking her head, Sylvanas said again, “No.”  

“That's a relief. Because it would be nearly impossible.”

Sylvanas stared at her. “Nearly?” she repeated, incredulous.  

“There are some rare exceptions to the rule. I can’t recommend it, to be honest.” Jaina made a dismissive little gesture, as if she couldn’t be troubled with complex explanations of death magic. “If I didn’t kill you, and you don’t want me to fix your Undeath, then why are you looking for me?”

It was tempting to drag the conversation back towards those ‘rare exceptions’ spoken of, but Sylvanas resisted the curiosity gnawing at the base of her neck. She realised she was biting the inside of her cheek with a thoughtful narrowing of her eyes, and put a stop to it. Lifting her chin, she nodded towards Jaina. “Everyone thinks you died.”

“Who’s saying they’re wrong?”

Sylvanas scowled. Not for the first time, she wanted Jaina to remove that damnable skull so she could see her face. “You look very alive to me.”

The curved end of the staff tilted towards Sylvanas in an all encompassing gesture. “I could say the same of you. Appearances can be deceiving, as we both know.” The skull lifted slightly, drawing closer as though Jaina were sniffing the air. “When did you die? Four years ago? Five?”

Shooting her an ugly look, Sylvanas said, “Over a decade ago.”

“Well, that can’t be right. The grave smells more recent on you.” 

“I think I would remember my own death,” Sylvanas said dryly. Then she added with a sneer, “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

Shrugging, Jaina lowered her grip upon the staff so that her stance appeared more relaxed. “I have as much a right to ask you a few personal questions, as you do to barge into my home with drawn weapons.”

Sylvanas pointed to the tree and their surroundings. “Your forest is a nightmare. I was simply prepared for the worst. And besides,” she shrugged at the bow over her shoulder. “I did not shoot you.”

“Your restraint is admirable.”

Sylvanas nodded. “Mmm. Yes. I thought so, too.”

“And after I’ve been so rude to a guest, as well,” Jaina drawled. “However shall I repay you?”

“A formal introduction might be a good start.” 

“It seems you don’t need one. You already know my name. I’m the only one here still in the dark.”

Lifting her open hand, Sylvanas placed it over her own heart. It was an elvish military salute, and something she had never been able to rid herself of no matter how many years had passed. “Sylvanas Windrunner.” 

Jaina did not return the gesture in any regard. "So, Sylvanas Windrunner. You’ve found me. Now, what do you want?”

“Your mother sent me.” 

The lie came easily to Sylvanas’ lips. Jaina’s head jerked as though she had been struck. Her grip upon the staff tightened once more, and Sylvanas swore she saw a glint of eyes through the skull’s sockets, like the glimmer of cold and distant starlight.

“An intruder. A flatterer. And now a liar, too.” The darkness of Gol Inath’s hollow seemed to gather at Jaina’s back, like a protective shroud or a display of something else. Impatience, perhaps. Or a growing ire. “I am seriously beginning to reconsider my decision to not kill you. For good, this time.” 

In response, Sylvanas lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “Then I count myself fortunate to have such a merciful hostess.” 

Slowly, Jaina moved forward, close enough that their shoulders brushed. The shadows clung to her as she moved. She was tall without the antlers, but with them she seemed that much more imposing. Her face remained hidden behind the mask, but the skull followed Sylvanas with an unblinking stare. And then Jaina had stepped past her. She looked out at the waterfalls plunging over the roots of Gol Inath. "Even if you weren't lying -- which you clearly are -- why would my mother send an undead elf runt to find me?"

Sylvanas bristled, but refused to rise to the bait. Still, she moved forward to stand at Jaina’s side. "The Lord Admiral’s political rivals circle over her. Civil war is coming to Kul Tiras."

"That doesn't sound like my problem."

"I should think civil war affects all Kul Tiran citizens. That includes the Drust."

Jaina continued to face the water, refusing to acknowledge that Sylvanas had moved at all, as though utterly unconcerned with her guest's presence. "A key prerequisite of being a Kul Tiran citizen is having the ability to own land. The Drust haven't been allowed to own land for nearly three hundred years."

"You would let Drustvar fall into the hands of a rival House on a technicality?"

"I have no intention of letting Drustvar fall into anyone's hands but my own."

This was not how the conversation was supposed to go. Jaina was supposed to be young, naive, optimistic, easy to manipulate. She was not supposed to be...whatever this woman was. Calm. Confident. Bored. 

That last one in particular stung. Sylvanas was used to people finding her many things, but boring was not one of them. 

Sylvanas crossed her arms and glowered out at the waterfalls sending up the thick preternatural mist that slunk through the Crimson Forest. "Last I checked, the region was ruled by Lucille Waycrest. Not you."

"What was that about technicalities again?" Now, Jaina just sounded amused. "Lucille and I have an understanding. She may live in Waycrest Manor with her Tides-given titles, but we all know who really controls Drustvar."

"You think Lord Stormsong and Lady Ashvane care about your little arrangement? All they see is a target." Sylvanas pointed to the skull, drawing a circle in the air with her finger as though painting a bull’s eye. Jaina did not move in the slightest despite this intrusion. "Your position is weak. Lucille will be toppled, and your 'understanding' will be in shreds within a few years."

"Let them come."

This air of calm self-assurance was starting to grow tiresome. Mostly because Sylvanas half-believed what Jaina said to be true. Almost. That was by far the most irritating thing. 

She launched her next words like a barb. "Your mother is dying."

Whatever reaction she had been expecting, it wasn’t for Jaina to nod solemnly. "Yes. I imagine she is,” she mused, looking out over the water. “Everybody dies. I didn't think I would need to lecture a corpse about that."

Sylvanas had to stop herself from grinding her teeth. She could feel the muscles in her jaw bunch together regardless. "She needs you. Kul Tiras needs you."

Jaina snorted and shook her head in a rustle of bone and leaves. "My mother sent me away when I was twelve years old. My father refused to speak my name after I’d left until the day he died. And Kul Tiras would never accept me given my background. I am too much like the thing they fear, now. They do not want me."

"I never said Kul Tiras wanted you. I said they needed you. They need an Heir to House Proudmoore."

"Then they should have thought of that before they let my father send my brother to the gallows in Unity Square. Tandred was the last Heir to House Proudmoore. Not me."

"Do you really want the Navy to be commanded by the likes of Lady Ashvane? Or Lord Stormsong?" Sylvanas snapped.

"Hang the Navy."

It was the first time a hint of a growl entered Jaina’s words. The sound was low and rumbling and far too animalistic to have been made by the human voice. Sylvanas’ ears pricked up slightly. She straightened her shoulders, her eyes coal-bright and curious. Finally. An opening. Something she could use. 

“Ah, yes. I’d heard about your brother.” Sylvanas tapped at her chin. “Something about helping the Horde, wasn’t it? Such a shame that your father did not look kindly upon acts of philanthropy to those in need.”

At last, Jaina turned her head to look at her, and it felt like a victory just to have her attention. “Are you in need of my ‘philanthropy’?” she sounded incredulous. 

It was Sylvanas’ turn to pretend to be aloof. “No. But as the Warchief of the Horde, I am always seeking alliances that will make us stronger.”

Jaina twitched in surprise, and the skull tilted to one side as though she were studying Sylvanas with far more interest. "You're no orc."

"I see Kul Tiras really has been living under a rock for the last decade,” said Sylvanas with a huff of wry laughter. “The Horde is far more than a gaggle of mindless orcs these days."

Now, Jaina had turned fully towards her. More progress. "And yet you died over a decade ago, you said? Which implies you are a product of the Scourge.” 

The empty space within the crook of her sickle staff burned with a bluish light, and the air suddenly reeked with the smell of arcane magics. Sylvanas tensed. Her hand made an abortive jerk towards her bow, but then the brief crackle of energy died away.

Jaina hummed a thoughtful note. “I don't sense anything demonic about you."

Still tense -- wary and ready to act upon a moment’s notice -- Sylvanas lowered her arm. "I make a point of not sharing my head with anyone. Especially where demons or liches are concerned."

"Finally, something we can agree on." Gesturing between the two of them, Jaina asked, "And what exactly would you get out of this proposed alliance?"

Sylvanas flashed a grin. "A friend."

At that, Jaina grunted. Silence descended as she chewed over the idea. "You're charming…"

Sylvanas' grin widened slightly.

"...but not that charming." Jaina straightened to her full height, which was fiendishly tall. Far too tall for Sylvanas’ tastes. Humans had no right being able to loom like that. "What do you really get out of this? And don't give me that bullshit about friendship."

The grin slipped from Sylvanas’ face, replaced instead by an expression that was more exasperated than anything else. "You really are your mother's daughter, aren’t you?” When Jaina’s only reply was to quietly glare at her, Sylvanas relented. "I want Kul Tiras to open its borders to the Horde."

“And is that all?” Jaina pressed.

“Would I lie to you?”

“You already have. Several times, I might add.” Jaina tapped her thumb against her staff. The motion rattled a cluster of crows’ skulls at her waist. “How do I know you're not working with Ashvane and Stormsong already?"

Baring her teeth, Sylvanas said, "Because if I were, I wouldn't have approached your sacred tree alone. I would have come with an army to burn it to the ground."

“You really do have a way of endearing people, don’t you?” Jaina said, not the least bit impressed. “No wonder my mother threw you out on your ass. That is what happened when you approached her with this proposition, I assume?”

Sylvanas glowered, but said nothing. It was answer enough.

“Of course, it is.” Jaina’s laugh was a low chuckle of amusement. “Why would I help you?”

“The goodness of your heart,” said Sylvanas, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone. 

Jaina scoffed. “You’re not a shipwrecked orc in need of hull repairs. You’re a war profiteer.”  

“I had hoped you would be swayed by some manner of loyalty to your dying mother,” said Sylvanas, but the low blow did very little it seemed.  

“Don’t pretend to care about my mother, Warchief Windrunner.”

“Pretend?” Sylvanas repeated, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, she invited me to the Keep for a cup of tea. If she were in better health, we could have reached an understanding.”

“If she were in better health, she would have shot you,” Jaina said dully.  

“Whatever helps the negotiation process,” Sylvanas drawled with a wave of her hand. Then she leaned a little closer, trying to peer past the impenetrable shadows of the skull’s eye sockets, searching for any hint of Jaina’s face. “Haven’t you thought about what you could do as the Lord Admiral?”

Most people would have leaned away or taken a step back upon being in such close proximity with a walking corpse. Jaina on the other hand remained perfectly still. “I am happy where I am now.”

“Are you?” Sylvanas stepped forward. They were close enough to touch, but Sylvanas stopped just before that point. The skull tilted slightly, as though Jaina were having to lower her chin to continue looking at her. “If you became the Lord Admiral, you could change the laws of Kul Tiras. No more raids. No more witch burnings. No more unfair press into the Navy’s service. You could give back lands to the Drust that were confiscated when your very own ancestors arrived here in the first place. Think of it as -” she shrugged, “- reparations. Making amends. Setting things right once and for all.” 

There. A pause. A hesitation. The smallest gap in Jaina’s proverbial armour. If Sylvanas did not have such acute hearing, she would have missed the slight hitched breath beneath that mask. 

“Hmm,” said Jaina. This close, Sylvanas could hear Jaina’s exhalation brush against the plate of bone in front of her face. It was barely audible over the rush of water and the slough of a breeze through the surrounding foliage. “I still don’t trust you.”

Placing her open hand back over her chest, Sylvanas tried for an air of sincerity without appearing mocking. “Then allow me to prove my good intentions, Lady Proudmoore.”

Jaina made a noise as though she had just bitten into something sour or rotten. “Don’t call me that. I’m not that old.”

“High Thornspeaker is a bit of a mouthful.”

“They have the same number of syllables,” Jaina pointed out, but she sighed nonetheless. “Jaina, then. If you must.” 

“Very well, Jaina,” Sylvanas let the name linger on her tongue. “Give me a small temporary outpost in Drustvar, and I promise to be nothing but the most humble and respectful of guests. At any time, you may call upon me as needed, or send me away. Whichever you prefer.”

For a long while, Jaina said nothing. As their conversation had progressed, the air around them had grown dark. The moon was a sliver of liquid gold upon the horizon, peeking over the wild canopy. The ground here was littered with small bioluminescent flowers, which gathered closest around the great tree, glowing softly in time with the runes over the arch and those carved into the mask’s antlers, as though they were all connected by a single woven thread. When Jaina took a step back and turned away, the ground lit up at her feet. The small bioluminescent petals clustered within her footsteps so that she seemed to leave a trail of pale fire that faded in her wake. 

She did not go very far, only striding a few paces off to sit upon one of the stones half-buried in the ground at the base of the tree. The moment she touched the stone, the marks etched into its surface lit up like a lantern. Jaina paid them no heed. She sat. She rested her staff on the ground beside her. She crossed her legs and idly bounced her foot up and down as though deep in thought. 

One of the ravens swooped down from its branch to land on Jaina’s shoulder, and she waved it away. “Not now, Adalyn,” she admonished under her breath.

The raven cawed a loud complaint, but it flapped away again. Except this time it landed on a lower branch nearer Jaina, and fixed a beady black eye upon Sylvanas. 

Finally, Jaina turned her attention back on Sylvanas. “No hunting,” she said, holding up her hand to tick items off on her wooden fingers. “No fishing. No mining. No forestry. You will have a minimal presence. All civilian. No military. And you will stock no arms or ammunition either on shore or within twenty leagues of it.” 

“Agreed,” Sylvanas said without any hesitation.

“I will speak with Lucille. You’ll have your outpost within the fortnight. Though,” Jaina added, “you might consider keeping your head down. If my mother gets wind that you’ve established a presence here behind her back, there will be hell to pay.”

“I will be meek as a field mouse,” Sylvanas swore. 

Though Sylvanas could not see it, she had no doubt Jaina just rolled her eyes. “Somehow I don’t believe you.” Her foot continued to bob as she spoke. "Arthur will escort you back to Arom's Stand. It will be quicker with him showing you the way."

Sylvanas looked around the empty clearing. "Who?"

As if in answer, one of the smaller ravens wheeled down from the branches of Gol Inath. It landed on the ground a few paces away from Sylvanas. And then it shuffled its feathers, and began to grow. There followed a series of unpleasant snaps and groans, as though a tree were being felled, and then a deer was standing in the raven's place. Except it was like no deer Sylvanas had ever seen before. It appeared to be made partly of plant, and partly of bone and flesh. Its legs were clawed twisted trunks, and the collar of fur around its neck was a ruff of leaves. Sylvanas could see glimpses of pale ribs through its sunken skin, and glowing glyphs were tattooed into its flank. 

"Hi!" the deer said. "It's me. I'm Arthur. Nice to meet you."

The voice was most definitely coming from the deer, though its mouth did not move in any way. Its eyes were filmed over with the pale blue of death, but the deer flicked its tufted tail in a very lively manner. 

Slowly, Sylvanas looked up at the trees, at the numerous ravens eyeing her from their perches. Even at the gazes of nocturnal creatures that blinked owlishly at her through the underbrush. She tried counting them all, but soon lost track. Suddenly, Jaina's earlier threats about putting Sylvanas in the ground for good did not seem so empty. 

"I wasn't aware we had an audience." Sylvanas nodded to the trees. "You might have told me."

"To be honest, you came right in the middle of a lesson. One which I'm keen to get back to. You have very bad timing." Jaina shooed her away. "I will check in on you in a few months. And if you don't keep up your end of the bargain: I'll know."

"What if I want to speak with you sooner?"

"You still have my token. It will guide you safely through the forest just as it did before."

With a sour grunt, Sylvanas' hand drifted to the pouch where she kept the scrimshaw fang. She thought on wicker men and bad dreams. Perhaps instead, next time she would just go to the forest's edge and talk to the ravens until they fetched Jaina for her. 

Plastering on a false smile, Sylvanas bowed low at the waist. "The hospitality of the Drust is as infamous as they say. Thank you, High Thornspeaker. This meeting has been enlightening."

"Next time, let me know you’re coming, and I'll be sure to put on a pot of tea," Jaina said dryly. 

The raven from before, the one called Adalyn, had hopped down to a branch closer to Jaina, glaring over the High Thornspeaker's shoulder like a dour little body guard. Sylvanas was sure she had seen the same expression on Nathanos' face. 

Syvlanas turned towards Arthur. The deer was pawing at the ground with one clawed and cloven hoof. 

"Hop on up," Arthur's voice said. 

Sylvanas' brows furrowed. His back looked very spiny and not at all comfortable. "I don't suppose I can get a saddle?"

"I mean -?" Arthur started to say, glancing over at Jaina.

"Don't demean yourself Arthur," Jaina said. 

Arthur stamped his back hoof, and said to Sylvanas. "Sorry. No can do."

Muttering under her breath, Sylvanas hoisted herself easily onto his back. She shifted atop him, but couldn't find a good seat no matter what she did. 

"Ready?" he asked.

Before she could answer he started off on a bouncing trot away from Gol Inath. Behind them, Sylvanas could have sworn she heard laughter chasing after her, but perhaps that was simply the cry of the ravens. 

As Arthur picked up the pace, he said, "You might want to hold on."

"To what?" Sylvanas growled. 

He tossed his head, and she grabbed onto a tine of his antlers. Soon, his steps turned into leaps and bounds. He was sure-footed and swift, easily traversing the forest. Even so, Sylvanas was forced to hunker down low on his back to save herself from getting whipped by the passing branches. 

She missed her skeletal horses. They may not have been as fast, but at least they had saddles and didn't talk. And Arthur talked. Arthur talked a lot. 

"This is so exciting," he said as they raced along. "We haven't had outsiders at Gol Inath in -- well -- forever! And now all this talk about the Admiralty and invasion? Do you think we're going to have a big fight?"

A branch sailed right for Sylvanas' face. She ducked. "That depends," she said through grit teeth. 

"I've never been in a battle before.” He sounded excited at the idea, proving just how young he really was. “Killing constructs and undead at Gol Koval doesn't count."

His accent lacked the burr that other Drustvar inhabitants had. Sylvanas tightened her grip upon his antlers. "You don't sound like you're from Drustvar. How long have you been training as a druid?"

"Oh, I'm from a fishing village in southern Tiragarde Sound," he replied. "I joined the Drust a few years ago. My parents found me in the garden one winter. We didn't have enough food, so I'd made the squash patch grow right through the snow. For people like me, options are limited. You can go to the Monastery or join the Navy. Except Tidesages don't really do nature magic like that, you know? And life at sea isn't really for me. So, here I am."

Sylvanas mused over that for a moment. The silence did not last long however. Soon, Arthur was yammering away again. Some incessant drivel about how much he liked being with the Drust. How the change in his life had been dramatic but ultimately fruitful. 

Sylvanas made non-committal noises as he talked. Then, she interrupted, "How long has Jaina been High Thornspeaker?" 

"Four years, I think? Three? By the time I came around, she was already Ulfar's star pupil."

"And he chose her as his successor?"

"Oh, no. Not really. It just sort of happened during the fight with Gorak Tul. They went to Thros and -" Abruptly, Arthur cut himself off. His bounding gait slowed to a canter. "I'm not really supposed to talk about that."

"You can tell me,” she crooned sweetly. “We're allies now, aren't we?"

"I don’t know,” Arthur said, his tone uncertain. “Jaina would be mad at me."

"Does she get mad at you often?"

"Oh, no. She's very patient with me. Way more patient than my parents, or that recruiting Lieutenant from Boralus. I hated that guy.” Arthur slowed to a stop. “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. "What kind of favour?"

When Arthur tossed his head, she was forced to let go of his antlers. "There's this -" He twisted his head around, his ears flicking back. "- really itchy spot on my neck."

Glowering, she hissed, "I am not your scratching post."

"Oh, come on. Please?" 

"I don't know why Jaina bothers with talk of demeaning yourself. Look at you."

He had twisted around, head lowered, so that he could scratch at his neck with one of his back hooves, like a dog trying to scratch behind its ear. Sylvanas had to cling to his back to keep from falling off and onto the ground. Briefly, she wondered how mad Jaina would be if she killed him, and then decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. 

"I will walk the rest of the way," she grumbled, but before she could slide from his back, he sighed.

"Okay. Got it." He straightened, and then shook his head with a huff of irritation. "Thanks for nothing. Geesh." 

Sylvanas' gaze burned scarlet as she glared at him. However, Arthur was either immune to the sense of immediate danger, or he really was that oblivious, for he continued on his way, chatting happily. This time, Sylvanas did not offer any noises to indicate that she was listening. She seethed in silence. 

The forest around them looked exactly the same as it had when she had first entered it. Thankfully, they did not pass the burnt ash tree and the wicker man, though Sylvanas watched for it, as though fully expecting to be dropped back into the nightmare loop that had been her life for the last three days. Arthur probably would have answered any other questions she posed, but she did not want to encourage him. Not that he needed it. 

Finally, after the longest few hours of her undeath, they reached the edge of the Crimson Forest. Dawn was a sliver cresting over the hills, painting the sky a pale pink. The moon still hung like a pendant at the throat of the world over the sea to the south west. Sylvanas lifted her head to peer up the cliffs directly ahead of them to the east. From here, she could just see a glimmer of lantern light from Arom's Stand high on the saddle of the mountain pass. 

Arthur slowed his pace, but continued trotting onto the road, clearly intending to carry her all the way back up to Arom's Stand as per his instructions. But Sylvanas leapt nimbly from his back. Her boots squelched in the mud of the road. 

Prancing around her, Arthur said, "Something wrong? If you needed to stretch your legs, you could've just said something."

Sylvanas bit back the urge to say something scathing. Instead, she began to stride along the road. "I will make my way from here. Thank you, Mr...?"

"Tradewind," he replied.

"Thank you, Mr. Tradewind."

"Don’t worry about it. You can call me Arthur.” He stopped in front of her, blocking her path. “And are you sure? I don't mind, and that hill is steep."

Teeth clenched, Sylvanas walked around him. She waved him away. "I am fine."

“Suit yourself.” 

She did not hear him bound away. There was a rustle behind her, the strident cawing of a raven, and he was gone in a flap of wings. 

It did not take long to climb the slope to Arom's Stand. The snows had melted slightly in her absence, though the further up the mountains she went, the deeper it became. The sun rose in time with her own movements up the hill. Soon she was bathed in the golden glow of daylight. The sun was a mixed blessing. The season was warming, but with it came the sludge of snowmelt mingling with the mud of the road. 

A falcon wheeled overhead. She paid it no heed, until it started circling her position. Then, she frowned up at it. When it circled lower until it was just a few meters above her head, Sylvanas sighed.

"You didn't have to send anyone else after me," she said to the sky. "I've left your damned forest."

"Are you talking to a bird?"

Sylvanas blinked. She turned to find Nathanos striding towards her from off the road. Of course. There were few people who could sneak up on her. Nathanos and her dark rangers were among them. 

As he approached, Nathanos put away his bow. "I am glad to see you unharmed. I shall have to tell Anya her coup is a no go."

"Very funny," Sylvanas growled. 

No sooner had he spoken Anya's name, than she and Velonara appeared on the nearby crest of the hill. They were followed by Notley from the Order of Embers. A furrow creased Sylvanas' brows when she saw that they flanked Notley as though he were a prisoner.

"Trouble?" she asked Nathanos. 

Nathanos seemed unrepentant. "We were worried for your safety, my Queen. Notley is a falconer, and we merely -" he trailed off for a moment, then shrugged, "- requested his immediate services."

Tilting her head back, Sylvanas looked incredulously between him and the falcon. The falcon itself was swooping back towards its master, who lifted his arm clad in a thick leather glove up to the elbow. Anya and Velonara were lengthening their strides now, leaving Notley behind so they could reach their Dark Lady's side. 

"I was only gone three days, Nathanos," Sylvanas admonished, as Anya and Velonara drew close enough to hear. "You panicked like a bunch of old hens."

"Three?" Velonara repeated.

"You were gone nine days," said Anya. 

Staring at them, Sylvanas shifted her gaze to Nathanos. He nodded. "When you did not arrive at the tavern in Arom's Stand on the seventh day, we tried to go into the forest after you."

"And how did that go for you?" Sylvanas asked.

"Not well," said Anya with a tone as dark as her expression. 

Trudging towards their little group, falcon on his arm, Notley said, "I told them not to. But they refused to listen. Said they were going to gut me like a fish if I got in their way."

Neither of the rangers nor Nathanos gave any indication that this was true. Then again, they did not deny it either. 

Sylvanas tsked in faux admonishment. “That’s no way to treat our newest allies.”

Of the four, the one who looked most surprised at this declaration was Notley. “You -?” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as though the forest below would eavesdrop. “You found the High Thornspeaker?” 

A silent meaningful glance was shared between Sylvanas and Nathanos. She smiled, baring a hint of fangs. “I did.’

--

True to her word, Jaina had arranged an outpost for the Horde within two weeks. During that time, Sylvanas and her rangers stayed in Corlain rather than suffer the indignity of the tavern at Arom's Stand for a moment longer. 

Not that Corlain was much better. It was the kind of town where the sad grey market every weekend was considered the height of culture by the locals. Sylvanas had seen less grim affairs in the sewers of the Undercity. The people of Drustvar were as accommodating as those in Boralus, which was to say: reticent to outsiders. Still, they did not chase the undead away with torches and pitchforks, which was an improvement on some of the places Sylvanas had visited in her lifetime. 

After thirteen days however, Sylvanas was stirred from her chair at the local inn by a rapping on the rain-lashed glass. When she went to open up the window, a filmy-eyed raven hopped inside the windowsill. 

"Finally," Arthur said, fluffing up all of his feathers so that he resembled a black hand duster. He shook his tail out. "Do you know it's pouring out there? I should have transformed into a duck instead, but Jaina keeps telling me it's not 'dignified.'"

"When will she learn that you're a lost cause?" Sylvanas drawled.

"Right?"

Rolling her eyes, Sylvanas said, "Well?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah." Arthur made a sound as though he were clearing his throat, and he perched a little straighter. "Lady Waycrest has agreed to give you the Eastern Cliffs. It's an abandoned settlement near the lighthouse of Falconhurst."

Sylvanas sighed. "Wonderful. More impassable cliffs."

While this entire conversation was going on, Anya and Velonara had stopped their game of whist at the table. They had somehow managed to procure a deck of cards only a few hours after their arrival in Corlain, and picked up the game with a cunning and alacrity that had many of the locals cry foul. Which, in the locals' defense, Sylvanas reckoned was probably true. Velonara's hand was frozen mid-play, a card held between her fingers. They were both staring at the sudden conversation between their despot and a bird. 

For his part, Arthur's head cocked, and he hopped a little closer towards their table. "Hey! This lady's cheating! She's got some spare cards up her sleeve!"

Anya's deathly pale cheeks went faintly blotchy. She glared daggers at the raven. "Permission to shoot the bird, Mistress?"

"Permission denied," said Sylvanas. 

Throwing down her own hand, Velonara snatched Anya's wrist and wrenched the cards that had been stashed up Anya's bracers. 

Sylvanas ignored the ensuing squabble in rapid-tongued Elvish behind her, like the hissing of angry snakes. She turned to Arthur. "Is there anything else?"

"Do you have a towel? Can you give me a quick rub down?"

"That was a rhetorical question, Arthur."

"Yeah, well, mine wasn't. I had to fly for hours to get here, and I'm soaked."

Rather than dignify this with a response, Sylvanas shooed him back towards the windowsill and shut the window. He squawked at her indignantly from the other side of the glass, before he was ultimately driven off by the rain. 

It took another two weeks to bring in hand-picked members of the Horde to fill the outpost. Sylvanas had already sent word back to Orgrimmar of her plans, and a list of suitable candidates had been drawn up at her request. The small ship -- something harmless enough to slip past the Kul Tiran Navy patrols by pretending to be a neutral fishing vessel -- landed at Falconhurst on an auspiciously sunny day. The sun was a wan yellowish circle behind a thin layer of clouds. It felt like the first time Sylvanas had seen sunlight in years, even though it had been only been a few weeks of incessant rain. 

A handful of Forsaken and Tauren stepped off the ship and onto shore. The local fishermen on the docks did not give them more than a passing glance. As per Sylvanas' orders, the Tauren -- all of whom were druids -- arrived in various animal forms. Neither they nor the undead were considered an odd sight in Drustvar. Indeed, the most difficult part about keeping a low profile was trying to encourage her more zealous Forsaken followers that they needn't erect banners with her symbol upon them. This slight to her glory seemed to cause a few of them physical pain, and more than once she had to order Nathanos to go around at night to tear down a few tabards from the walls of their encampment. 

Less than a week had passed before Velonara was clearing her throat to get Sylvanas' attention. 

"What is it?" Sylvanas did not look up from where she was fletching a series of arrows. She had been forced to purchase the feathers from a hawker Falconhurst, who had been curious as to why she did not simply hunt for pheasant herself. He quickly nodded in understanding when she explained she would not hunt anywhere near the Crimson Forest, however. There was even a small discount offered for her supposed piety. 

"There are two women watching us from the tops of the cliffs," Velonara explained. 

Sylvanas tied off a section of gut around the fletching. "And you haven't scared them away yet? You're losing your touch."

"One of them claims to be the Lady Lucille Waycrest. She is demanding an audience."

Now, that did get Sylvanas' attention. She glanced up from her work. "Demanding? Is she, now?" Finishing off the arrow, she set it down and then rose to her feet. "We shouldn't keep one of our hosts waiting, then."

It was a quick walk up the switchback road leading over the saddle of the cliffs. Waves thundered against the shore below. Their outpost was placed on a small outcropping that was sheltered by a man-made shoal with a lighthouse erected at its very end. At night it almost appeared as though the lighthouse were floating above the tides. Now, the wind-battered lighthouse was peering out at the dusk-washed sea like a lantern. 

Most of the locals from Falconhurst avoided the Eastern Cliffs apart from a few fishermen, who favoured the docks. And yet, two dark shapes were standing near the cliff's edge. They were peering down at the outpost below. Over the whipping of the wind, Syvlanas could barely hear their murmured conversation. 

Sylvanas announced her presence by allowing her foot to kick loose a stone on the path. Both of the figures turned. One was carrying a lantern. She lifted it into the air, peering through the impending gloom of twilight at those who approached. 

"Lady Waycrest, I presume." Sylvanas stopped a few paces away, and tucked her arms behind her back in a comfortably militant pose. "I understand you wished to speak with me."

"Yes," said the woman holding the lantern. Her hair was dark, and her clothing fine. She studied Sylvanas with pursed lips. "I wish you'd approached me before approaching the Drust."

Sylvanas arched an eyebrow. "Oh? I was under the impression I was welcome here."

Lucille's mouth thinned even more. "You are. For now. But it is bloody inconvenient, you know, having you lot strolling about under Jaina's wing, while I'm kept in the dark."

With a nonchalant shrug, Sylvanas said, "Your arrangement with the High Thornspeaker is your own. How you go about your business is none of my concern. So, unless you're telling us to leave, we have very little to discuss."

"That's not what I'm here for." Drawing herself up -- she was short for a Kul Tiran, which meant she was only slightly taller than Sylvanas and Velonara -- Lucille gestured to the woman beside her. "I've been told you already know Mace?"

Sylvanas' eyes cut through the darkening air. Mace was fidgeting with the daggers sheathed at her waist. Her palms moved restlessly over the pommels until the metal was burnished smooth and bright. Her red hair was unmistakable. When Lucille gestured towards her, Mace inclined her head, her movements jerky, as though she had to remind herself to be deferential. 

"I do," Sylvanas said slowly. 

"Good. I'm assigning her as an escort to your outpost," said Lucille. She turned to Mace. "No starting fights. And report back to me every fortnight."

Meanwhile, Sylvanas's shoulders went rigid. "I beg your pardon?" she growled. "You will do no such thing."

Lucille frowned in her direction. "It's only fair," she said. "Jaina is having you watched."

"She isn't," Sylvanas insisted flatly.  

"Then what is that?" Lucille pointed over Sylvanas' shoulder.

Sylvanas turned to follow where Lucille was indicating, and spied a large raven shuffling along the branch of a nearby tree. The bird seemed to notice their attention upon it, for it went very still all of a sudden.

Eyes narrowing to crimson slits, Sylvanas raised her voice. "Is that you, Arthur?"

"What?" said Arthur. "No! No, I'm just a normal raven."

"Normal ravens don't talk, Arthur."

"Oh. Right. I mean -! Caw! Caw!"

Sylvanas had to unclench her teeth before she could speak to Lucille again. Her clawed gauntlets creaked, and she relaxed her hands. "A trade then. You leave Mace here, and take Velonara back to Waycrest Manor with you."

"What?" hissed Velonara at Sylvanas' elbow, too low for the humans to hear. Sylvanas slanted a dangerous glance in her direction, and Velonara fell silent. 

"Fine," agreed Lucille after a moment of thought. "Fair's fair. Just know that if she puts a knife between my ribs, Jaina will drown everyone at your little outpost."

"I'm well aware," Sylvanas drawled.

For some reason, that made Lucille relax. She even smiled. "Well, good. That's settled, then. Welcome to Drustvar, Warchief." Then, she nodded towards the ranger standing attentively at Sylvanas' side. "Velonara, was it? I have two horses stabled at the inn in Falconhurst. We can ride back towards the manor in the morning."

Velonara said nothing. Indeed, she gave no indication that she had even heard Lucille speak to her. She was too busy glaring awls into the back of Sylvanas' head. 

The tip of Sylvanas' ears twitched slightly in annoyance. "Are you going to answer Lady Waycrest?"

Velonara's expression remained implacable, but her voice was stiff when she inclined her head towards Lucille. "I will meet you there at daybreak."

Satisfied, Lucille strode off towards Falconhurst. Her step was unerring, if loud. The soles of her boots seemed to find every twig along the road. The moment she was out of earshot, Velonara rounded on Sylvanas. 

"I don't like this," she said in a low tone. "We are in hostile territory. You need a proper guard detail, and you were already under-protected when you decided to leave your Deathguards in Orgrimmar."

Sylvanas smiled as a pretense to bare a bit of fang. "I am more than capable of protecting myself. Besides," she gave a wry wave towards Mace, "I have a new bodyguard now."

As the conversation had continued, Mace had squatted down on the ground. She had procured a small block of wood from somewhere, and was now busy whittling away at it with one of her daggers. It took her a long moment to realise that both Sylvanas and Velonara were now watching her in silence. Her knife slowed against the woodgrain. She blinked up at them blankly. "Huh?"

"Yes, she seems very alert," Velonara muttered darkly. "I'm so relieved." 

"Don't forget me," said Arthur from his branch. "I'm still here."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sylvanas sighed. 

--

The next morning, Velonara left with Lucille back to Waycrest manor with strict instructions on sending back reports on the latest political and military movements every week. Nathanos and Anya took the news of the trade about as well as Velonara did, which meant that Sylvanas was forced to endure extra Forsaken guards around her quarters at the Eastern Cliffs at every hour of the day. 

Arthur also took the discovery of his presence to mean that he no longer needed to hide. He made a habit of roosting atop the first story eaves of the building that Sylvanas used as both personal quarters and a command centre. He would chatter away at her undead guardsmen, pestering them with questions and stories. 

Even worse, her guards cracked and eventually began to talk back to him. 

Sylvanas was pouring over a series of reports on the latest treaty update from Zandalar one evening, burning the midnight oil, when she first heard it. 

"So, wait -- you eat bodies? Why?" Arthur's chirpy voice was unmistakable over the sound of the waves against the nearby cliffs. 

There followed a rustle of chainmail rasping over a bony shouldered shrug. "It heals us. Makes us whole again."

"Woah. Really? Can you show me?"

A dry chuckle. "That's not the reaction we usually get, kid. But sure."

Tossing down the report onto the stack of paper on her desk, Sylvanas pushed back her chair, its legs scraping loudly against the wooden floorboards. She stormed over to the front door, and yanked it open. Immediately, her two guardsmen jerked to attention, their normally stooping backs ramrod straight.

Sylvanas glared at them and hissed. "You will refrain from developing a rapport with the bird. Understood?"

“Yes, Dark Lady,” one of them said.

“Of course, my Queen. Forgive us,” said the other. 

Sylvanas then aimed her glower upwards, where Arthur was poking his black-feathered head over the side of the thatched eaves. "Isn't it time for you to deliver your report to Jaina?"

Arthur's milky white eyes blinked at her. "Probably. How many days has it been?"

"Do you want me to write your reports, too?" she growled. 

"Would you? That would be really helpful."

"You are a terrible spy." She waved an irritable hand at him. "Go home. Before I let Anya shoot you."

"Someone's grouchy today,” he remarked, but took flight before Sylvanas could make good on her threats.

She glared after him, following his flight path until he was no more than a black speck disappearing over the hills. When she turned her attention back onto the guards, they gripped their polearms even more tightly. 

“Where is the other one?” she asked.

One of the guards lifted his hand and pointed with a flensed finger. Slamming the door shut behind her, Sylvanas stalked in that direction. It did not take her long to find Mace. As far as spies went, she and Arthur could not have been worse at their jobs if they tried. Mace spent her days throwing stones into the sea, or talking to the local fishermen, or hurling knives at a target dummy made out of a flour sack filled with straw. She never spoke with the undead more than necessary. Any time Anya or Nathanos reported her talking with members of the Horde was when she would question the Tauren about the Cenarion Circle and the Moonglade. 

Sylvanas found her sitting on a stump beneath the deep eaves of the command centre. Her back was turned to Sylvanas, and she gave no indication that she noticed her presence. Mace was hunched over something in her lap, and various trimmings heaped at her feet.

Standing behind her, Sylvanas watched as Mace’s hands bound three sticks together with twine into a roughly human frame. Next, she gathered dried leaves and twigs around the frame, tying them into place by circling the ball of twine in key sections. She worked methodically. Her restless disposition was well-suited to this kind of constant activity. 

When she was nearly finished, Sylvanas nodded towards the little wicker man. “What do they do?”

Without looking up, Mace shrugged. She was completely unsurprised by the sound of Sylvanas’ voice directly behind her. “Dunno. She likes them, though.”

“Who?”

“The High Thornspeaker.” 

The wicker man was beginning to take shape. Mace bulked it out with more leaves and twigs. It lacked any kind of head. Briefly, vividly, Sylvanas could remember the wicker man in the forest with its watchful skull. A skull which seemed, in retrospect, a near exact copy to the one Jaina wore. 

"What do you do with them when you've finished?" 

Mace grunted around a twig in her mouth, taking it and lashing it into place along one of the wicker man's legs. "Leave them at the edge of the forest, usually. They disappear in a few days. She takes 'em, see? Or, if you have to make camp, you stake one of these at your feet while you sleep. Protects you from ghosts and constructs and, y'know -" Mace waved a withered leaf at Sylvanas. "- banshees and the like."

"And you want to put one in my outpost as a housewarming gift," Sylvanas sneered. "Lovely. Thank you."

Unperturbed, Mace put the finishing touches on the wicker man. She bound the last bit of twine into place, and then weighed the wicker man between her hands for a final inspection. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I am sleeping here surrounded by you lot. I'll take what I can get."

Reaching down, Sylvanas snatched the wicker man from Mace's grasp. "This thing -" her voice was low and dangerous, "- will not save you from me. And I will not have it anywhere near my personal quarters."

Mace tongued the inside of her cheek. Then, she nodded towards the wicker effigy. "Don't like it much, do you?"

Sylvanas’ hand tightened around the wicker man until she heard the creaking of twigs and leaves. She straightened, forcing her fingers to unclench. Without the bear claws and a skull, this effigy was far less ferocious than its counterpart in the Crimson Forest. Still, it made her skin crawl to touch it. 

She looked between the wicker man and Mace. Her eyes narrowed to crimson slits. “Do you have any Drust in your family line?”

“My uncle Tavery,” Mace replied. She was shuffling around the supplies at her feet. Eventually she picked up a piece of wood, and began carving it with a knife. 

Sylvanas turned the wicker man over to study its construction. Mace had woven the twigs and leaves in such a way that they all interlinked over the effigy’s chest, as though framing its lack of a heart. A space to be filled by grim offerings. Sylvanas stroked her thumb over the area. “Tell me about Gol Inath.”

Shoulders tense, Mace hunched over her knife. She shot Sylvanas a wary glance over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t -- You shouldn’t say its name aloud so easily.”

“What is it?” Sylvanas repeated, impatiently enunciating every syllable. 

“The sacred tree. The entrance to Thros.”

“And what is Thros?”

Mace scowled at her. “Why are you asking me all these damn questions? If it’s information about the Drust you want, you should ask them. Not me.”

Gesturing with the wicker man, Sylvanas said, “Indulge me.”

For a moment Mace said nothing. She fiddled with the handle of the dagger, then turned back to whittling the small block of wood in her hands. It was beginning to take on the shape of a shaggy bear. “The Blighted Lands. A nightmarish place where nothing grows.” She gave the dagger a particularly vicious flick, tearing off a chunk of wood. “Hell, Warchief. Thros is Hell.” 

--

If there was one thing Sylvanas was very good at, it was being patient. She had waited to lure Arthas into a trap, pretending to be under the yoke of his will even when the Lich King’s powers had begun to wane. She had bided her time in joining the Horde, ensuring the alliances of both the Forsaken and sin’dorei. The living wanted everything urgently and immediately. On some days she could still feel that itch scratching just beneath her sternum, but today was not such a day.

She sat behind her desk at the Eastern Cliffs. Its surface was littered with papers and documents, bits of parchment with her notes scrawled across them in spidery lines. And though the watery sunlight of Kul Tiras washed through the windows of the building, the hearth was lit, more for light than for warmth. She had very little need of warmth these days. 

A map of Kul Tiras was spread out before her, its curling edges weighed down with various items -- an inkwell, a dog-eared book, a jar of sand for drying wet ink. Standing at the opposite side of the table, Nathanos leaned over and pointed to the map. “According to Velonara, Lady Waycrest has levied troops at Fletcher’s Hollow to fend off the Ashvane forces seeking to take the mines and foundry in that area. She has also sent troops to garrison Fallhaven, as it is the largest settlement in Drustvar that is accessible by sea. Drustvar has very few ships of their own, and certainly none that can rival the Great Fleet.”

Sylvanas’ elbow was propped on the chair of her arm. She curled her fingers into a fist and leaned her cheek upon it. “How many souls has she levied?”

He straightened and answered. “Fifteen thousand.”

Studying the map, Sylvanas hummed. “Not bad for a nation that traditionally doesn’t field an army.”

Nathanos gave a condescending little sniff. “It is nothing compared to what the Horde could muster at a moment’s notice.”

“Perhaps,” Sylvanas murmured. “But who needs an army when the only way to your land is by sea?” Reaching out, her hand drifted over the map towards Tiragarde Sound. She tapped her finger against Boralus. “And what about our beloved Lord Admiral? What has she been doing these last few weeks?”

“I have received news that she was visited by an Alliance envoy.”

Sylvanas glanced sharply up at him. “Anyone we know?”

“Genn Greymane.”

At the very sound of the name, Sylvanas’ lip curled. “And?”

“And Katherine sent him away as well.” Nathanos’ beard twitched in a smug smile. “She wanted nothing to do with the Alliance either.”

Sylvanas laughed, the sound sharp and short. She settled back in her chair, a smile still playing across her lips. “So, she sent the dog running with his tail between his legs. I knew I liked her.” 

Nathanos’ own smile faded. “Why haven’t we told her about finding her daughter alive? If it’s the Admiralty you want, we should be trying to curry their favour and uniting them.”

With a sniff, Sylvanas said, “You have no sense for the dramatic, Nathanos. You would be a very poor theatre performer.”

He offered a small bow in reply. “You flatter me.”

She let loose a gentle huff of laughter, turning her attention back to the map. “No, we wait. We let the Ashvanes tie their own noose. What will the people say? When the daughter of their beloved war hero, Daelin Proudmoore, returns from the grave to liberate the nation from a usurper House?” Sylvanas curled one loose corner of the map between thumb and forefinger. The parchment began to tear slightly, the rip aiming up between Drustvar and Tiragarde Sound. She studied it a moment, and then pulled her hand back. “Why, I think it might just be a cause for a celebration.”

“You mean: a coup,” Nathanos said.

“What’s a good party without a little bloodshed?” she said wryly. “Besides, I hear Kul Tirans are the brawling type. Think of it as a cultural experience. We are -” Sylvanas fluttered the fingers of one hand as though searching for the words. “-forging stronger ties with our future allies.”

“I am leaping for joy on the inside,” Nathanos replied in his flattest possible tone. “And if the Alliance should approach her daughter? What then?”

“They won’t.”

“You underestimate their cunning.”

“No, I predict their weakness.” Leaning back, she propped her feet atop a clear corner of the desk, crossing her legs at the heel. “The old wolf or SI:7 might approach Jaina, but their Little Lion wouldn’t allow them to go through with any plan they concocted between them. He could never stomach something so underhanded.”

“And this High Thornspeaker? What if she sought them out herself? Presuming she ever deigns to set foot outside of her forest.” He snorted, shaking his head. “I have my doubts.”

The way Nathanos said that gave Sylvanas pause. She shifted slightly in her seat to face him more fully. “About what, pray tell?”

For a moment, he hesitated. He seemed to mull over his words carefully before beginning. “Forgive me, my Queen, but no one else has seen her, or even heard her voice. I have sent scouts into the Forest -- every week for the last two months -- and always they return empty handed. Confused or scared witless. Some claim to have been hunted like a wild animal through the woods. Some rave about men made of bone and moss chasing them. Some say there is a tree strung with carcasses at the heart of the forest, and that its guardian is a bloodied stag crowned with stars.” He held his gloved hands palms up, showing that they were empty. “None of them have ever seen a woman as you described her.”

“Do you think I was as addled by the forest as your scouts?” she asked in a voice that was dangerously calm.

He inclined his head. It was not a nod, but a sign of subservience. “No. Of course not. That we have been given this outpost is proof enough that you encountered someone -- or something -- which swayed the Lady Waycrest.”

“But you don’t think it was her.”

Sweeping a hand over his heart, Nathanos said, “You do not have me by your side to be trusting of others, my Queen. And I think it is very convenient that we found her alive. Too convenient, in fact.” He kept his head bowed as he spoke, but his gaze held her own with unflinching conviction. “How do we know this isn’t some spectre or illusion? How do we know we aren’t being played for fools?”

The rear legs of the chair creaked slightly beneath Sylvanas as she shifted her weight. Her eyes strayed to the hearth, over which the wicker man had been hung. Its limbs were scorched. She had tried to burn it after speaking with Mace, flinging it into the fire as more fuel, but it had resisted her efforts. So far there had been no forced nightmares in its presence, but Sylvanas remained wary of it all the same.

She thought back on that meeting in the forest. Gol Inath. A congregation of ravens. Shadows and mist and a faceless woman whose tongue was as sharp as her mind. The memory should have seemed dream-like, but it wasn’t. Even dwelling upon the memory now, it were almost as though she were transported back to the entrance of that tree; the smell of it pervaded her senses like a familiar but long-forgotten scene. As though she had rummaged through her mother’s vanity as a child and happened upon a used vial of perfume. 

“Your suspicions are not misplaced,” Sylvanas assured him. “But she is real. I am sure of it.”

At the gentling of her tone, he lifted his head. “Then if she is real, how do we know she will be up to the challenge? Druids are dreamers. They make poor leaders. Always with their heads in the clouds or the trees.” He tapped the side of his own head for emphasis. 

“This one is different. She’s -” Sylvanas made a face. “- terribly practical, actually.”

He scrunched up his nose in a look of minor disgust. “I was not aware that was possible for a druid.”

She hummed wordlessly in agreement.

“Still,” Nathanos said. “I doubt the Navy will follow someone who never emerges from their life of seclusion and mysticism. Regardless of their name. If I don’t believe she is real, then the average Kul Tiran won’t either.”

Now, that was a problem. As far as Sylvanas could tell, Jaina seemed content to act behind the scenes, all while letting Lady Waycrest take the centre stage. 

“Then we must lure her out,” Sylvanas said. 

“With what bait?”

Again, her eyes strayed to the wicker man. Lowering her feet back to the ground, Sylvanas stood. She rounded the desk and crossed over to the fireplace. Her face was illuminated by orange flames as she reached out to pick up the wicker man. “Leave that to me.”

--

Sylvanas left the Eastern Cliffs without an escort, much to the annoyance of Nathanos and Anya. The sky was dark and boiled with clouds, and not even a hint of starlight could shine through. The promise of rain was heavy upon the air; Sylvanas could almost taste it. For all that it was a still night, a calm night, and -- most importantly -- a rainless night. 

When she arrived at the edge of the Crimson Forest, a raven soared overhead and landed in the lower branches of a nearby tree. 

"Do you want a ride?" Arthur asked.

Sylvanas' step did not falter. She pressed on, walking into the woods with the fang dangling from her outstretched hand as though it were a lantern clearing her path of shadows. "No," she said.

Arthur flew to another tree ahead of her. He shuffled his wings and watched her course. "Can I sit on your shoulder at least?"

"No," she said again, more emphatically this time. 

He cawed, which she took to mean he was annoyed by this imposition. She did her best to ignore him, but it was difficult to do so, when he continued flapping from branch to branch, hopping along after her and not bothering to keep himself hidden. 

"Did you follow me the last time as well?" Sylvanas asked.

"No," Arthur replied, his voice fading somewhat as he sailed over her. "Tavery wouldn't let me. Thought I'd give myself away immediately."

Well, they were right about that, at least. Sylvanas refused to engage in any further conversation with Arthur, despite his best efforts. He was far too curious for his own good, pestering her with questions about her station, her state of undeath, how she died, how the Forsaken lived -- for lack of a better term -- how they had overthrown the Lich King's iron will. 

Sylvanas kept her eyes fixed upon the fang. She followed its path unerringly.

Eventually, Arthur said, "You're going the wrong way."

Sucking in a deep breath to calm herself, Sylvanas stopped. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I was under the impression that this thing -" she shook the fang where it dangled from her hand. "- would always lead me to Gol Inath."

"Oh, it will. But you're looking for Jaina, right? She's not at Gol Inath right now."

"And you couldn't have told me this sooner?" Sylvanas growled. 

Arthur shook his tail feathers in an offended manner. "Hey, I offered to give you a ride. It's not my fault you didn't want my help earlier."

Stuffing the fang into her belt pouch, she glared up at him. "Show me."

Immediately, Arthur swooped down from his branch and landed on her shoulder. His claws scrambled for purchase against her pauldron, and he flared his wings to steady himself as he sought to get a good grip. Before he managed to do so, his feathers smacked Sylvanas on the side of the face a few times. She leaned her head to one side, fuming silently to herself.

"There! Phew! Okay." Arthur folded his wings against his back. "Jaina's with Athair and Athainne. Go west."

Sylvanas turned and started walking.

"No, your other west."

Gritting her teeth, Sylvanas continued on the other way. Arthur continued to chirp directions in her ear, happy and at home on her shoulder despite the incredibly ugly looks she would cast his way from time to time. 

At last, they came upon a clearing in the woods. It was nowhere near as vast or impressive as Gol Inath, but it had its own quiet majesty. The trees here thinned. Will o' the wisps danced around their trunks, their bluish light casting no shadows in an eerie array. More life than Sylvanas had seen anywhere else in the Crimson Forest abounded here. Rabbits and lambs gambolled. Jet-black foxes with white-tipped tails scampered from Sylvanas' path at the sight of her. A pack of wolves lifted their lazy heads to watch her pass by, but went back to sleeping beneath the outcropping of a den dug into the gentle hillside. Stationary owls turned their golden eyes upon her, and red-breasted nightingales dipped and darted a few paces above the ground. Predators and prey alike gathered here, and none seemed very concerned with one another. 

And at the centre of the clearing, Jaina was conversing with a stag and doe. Her voice was too soft to overhear, even with Sylvanas' keen ears straining to catch the slightest syllable. The stag was pale as moonlight. Its antlers gleamed. It stood larger than any deer Sylvanas had encountered before; she could lift her hands above her head and still not hope to touch its withers. The doe beside it had a coat of purest black, which seemed to drink up any surrounding light until it appeared to be a void in the shape of a deer. 

Both creatures turned to regard Sylvanas steadily when she drew too near. She stopped. Jaina glanced over as well, her skull mask omnipresent even now. Without preamble, Arthur took flight, winging through the air and landing on Jaina's shoulder. He leaned in close, whispering something in her ear, while she nodded and murmured a reply. Then, she took him from her shoulder and perched him atop the stag's antlers. The stag's tufted tail twitched, but it gave no other indication that it noticed Arthur's presence. 

Jaina walked over, leaving Arthur and the two Wild Gods behind her. Her every other step was punctuated by the end of her staff touching the earth, and sending up a spiral of greenery in her wake. 

Sylvanas nodded in greeting and asked, "Do you always wear that?"

Drawing to a halt a pace away, Jaina tilted her head. The skull mask was as impassive as ever. "Think of it as a symbol of office."

"Do you plan to ride out against the Ashvanes wearing a horrible deer skull?"

"I had, actually. Yes."

"And I thought I was bad at politics," Sylvanas drawled. 

Jaina's voice was impatient when she spoke. "What do you want, Warchief?"

"To talk."

For a long moment Jaina regarded her in silence. Then, she said, "Well? Talk."

There was the temptation to be just as short with Jaina as Jaina was with her, but Sylvanas held her tongue. "You're not like most druids I've encountered in the past."

"No, I imagine not."

When Jaina was not any more forthcoming, Sylvanas sighed and reached behind her. Jaina tensed, but Sylvanas only pulled the singed wicker man from where she had tethered it to her belt. Sylvanas waggled it back and forth, the way one might motion with a doll to scare children.

Jaina's shoulders relaxed, but she made a sound of wordless irritation. "Why have you brought me this?" 

"I heard you like them." Sylvanas held out the wicker man. "Personally, I don't see the appeal. But to each their own." 

In the short time they had known one another, this was the first time Sylvanas had seen Jaina hesitate. Slowly she reached out to take the wicker man, and Sylvanas noticed that her hands were no longer made out of wood. Instead, they were sheathed in pale, calloused, living skin. A glance downward proved that the same was of her bare feet. Their soles were scuffed with dirt, but otherwise unremarkable. 

Jaina's fingers traced over the scorch marks across the wicker man, as though she were inspecting a bruise upon a child's knee. "He looks a little worse for wear." 

"He lost a scuffle with the fireplace." 

Jaina snorted. She shook her head. "Do you even know what these are?" 

"No," Sylvanas answered truthfully. "A ward, I imagine." 

A thoughtful hum escaped Jaina at that. She touched the place where the wicker man's heart was supposed to be, the blank patch where all the twigs and leaves intersected. "Sometimes, yes. They can be guardian effigies. Sleep inducers. Dream totems. Soul cages, though very rarely. Sometimes they are just the centerpiece of a festival rite. But regardless of their use, they are always an instrument of worship.” Jaina tucked the wicker man away, and it vanished beneath her heavy cloak. “Thank you. I shall treasure him.”

Sylvanas could feel her ears pin back at the idea that this was some offer of worship. “I did not make it,” she said quickly.

Jaina shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. You were a participant nonetheless.”

“I was the one who tried to burn it,” Sylvanas pointed out.

“Oh?” Jaina laughed softly at the admission, and Sylvanas had to stop her hands from curling into fists. “Funny you should think that removes you from the equation.”

Holding out her hand, Sylvanas took a step forward. “I wanted it away from me, but if it’s going to reveal anything to you, then I want it back.”

“Too late. It’s already gone.” Jaina flourished her cloak to prove just that. “Do you think it would show me what I haven’t already seen?”

Sylvanas froze. 

Now it was Jaina’s turn to move forward. She drew close, peering down at Sylvanas, who glowered steadfastly in return. The points of the skull’s antlers appeared dark and crusted with old blood, as though they had gored an animal to death. “Your dreams are very violent, Warchief," Jaina murmured. "How many times have you died? Twice?”

Baring her teeth, Sylvanas growled, her voice slipping to a dark two-toned rumble, “Stay out of my head.”

Something in the air shifted, and suddenly Jaina did not appear so looming. She shrugged, but did not step away. “Very well. I won’t pry any further.” Taking the staff in both hands, Jaina leaned her weight upon it, her pose relaxed. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Sylvanas scowled. She could feel the shadows slithering beneath her skin, the venom of anger an acrid taste at the back of her mouth. Swallowing it down was a practised action, something she had done a thousand times. And always it was difficult to not let it take root. Her face became as blank and mask-like as Jaina’s before she spoke. “I could not help but notice that the Ashvanes have already made moves to the southeast. Based on my scout reports, you are going to need additional support.”

“Your concern is touching, but I am more than capable of defending Drustvar without the help of the Horde,” said Jaina.

“You and Lady Waycrest have levied quite the impressive little force. I’ll grant you that. But armies need more than promises and dreams.” Sylvanas rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, the tips of her gauntlet rasping against one another, metal against leather. 

With a snap of her fingers, Jaina caused a grasping vine to sprout from the ground at their feet. It twined around Sylvanas’ ankle, but did not hold her fast. “I can grow enough food to ensure the army is fed through even the most bitter winter.”

“I’m not talking about food. I’m talking about money.” Sylvanas kicked her foot free and ground the vine beneath her heel. “You think soldiers and sailors follow Lady Ashvane -- or your mother, for that matter -- because they want to be fed pork and biscuits three times a day for the remainder of their sad lives? Do you think they like freezing aboard a third rate on the northern run to Kalimdor?”

The skull cocked to one side, and Jaina sounded amused. “Are you hoping to bribe me?”

“Normally, yes. Though I know you aren’t the type to be swayed by the promise of coin.” Clasping her hands behind her back, Sylvanas lifted her chin. “No. In fact, I was hoping to buy something from you.”

Jaina tapped one finger against the staff, thinking quietly to herself before saying, “And what do you want to buy?”

“Another outpost. Think of this as paying rent.” Sylvanas dragged her toe along the dirt to smooth the vine out of the way, as though marking a line between them. “You give me land, you let me develop a minor presence elsewhere in Drustvar, and in return I help your war effort.” 

“Hmm.” Straightening, Jaina nodded. “Very well. But your presence is to remain strictly civilian. If I get wind that there are soldiers or munitions in your outposts -”

“You won’t,” Syvlanas interrupted before she could finish.

Jaina made a disbelieving noise. “That remains to be seen.” She lifted her hand, and Arthur flew over to land upon her forearm. “Take our guest to Swiftwind Post, that abandoned fane northwest of Fletcher’s Hollow.” 

Sylvanas thought back to the map on her desk at the Eastern Cliffs. “That’s very close to the foundry being invaded by the Ashvanes. Are you expecting me to send my people in blind?”

For some reason Jaina thought that was funny. “Perish the thought,” she said. Then she added, “It’s good defensible high ground. Difficult to assault. Your people will be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

In a flap of wings, Arthur moved from Jaina’s arm to Sylvanas’ shoulder. This time at least he managed to get a good grip without making a complete nuisance of himself.

Jaina made an inquisitive noise before saying, “Arthur, why aren’t you giving her a lift?”

“She doesn’t like it,” Arthur explained. 

Jaina turned her attention to Sylvanas, waiting for an explanation. Sylvanas had to keep her expression carefully neutral, though the force of her scarlet gaze could strip paint from the hull of a ship. “Can you at least do me the courtesy of sending someone else to spy on me? Anyone else.”

“No. I trust him,” Jaina said simply. “And believe it or not, he is an excellent judge of character.”

Hearing those words, Arthur puffed up his feathers proudly.

“Fine,” Sylvanas snapped. “I’ll do this my own way.”

She held out her hand parallel to the ground, the fingers of her clawed gauntlets splaying wide. The last time she had summoned a skeletal mount in Drustvar had been at the very fringes of shoreline nearest Tiragarde Sound. The death magic had come easily, eagerly. Now, when Sylvanas’ magic reached into the ground, silence was her only reward.

Scowling, she tried again to no avail. 

Arthur shuffled a little closer to her ear and said in a too-loud whisper, “Is something supposed to be happening? I feel like something is supposed to be happening.”

“Shut. Up,” Sylvanas hissed at him through grit teeth. Shadows gathered at her outstretched palm, but the earth refused to budge. Eventually, after another futile effort, she dropped her hand with a wordless irate snarl.

“A good try, really,” said Jaina, who had watched the whole thing in silence. “But here in the heart of Drustvar, you’ll find that the dead answer only to me.”

Stymied and fuming, Sylvanas bit back a sharp retort. Instead, she turned heel and stalked away without another word, while Arthur gave her unwanted directions back towards the Eastern Cliffs. And as she strode off, she wondered if Nathanos hadn’t been right all along, if this place was even worth the trouble. The thought was met swiftly with the idea of the Alliance getting their hands on the Great Fleet of Kul Tiras, and Sylvanas lengthened her stride with purpose. 

Even if she was bound to lose eventually, she would be twice-damned before she let the Alliance win.

--

At least Swiftwind Post didn’t have the incessant sea spray rusting everything it touched. Instead, it had -- true to its namesake -- near constant gales. The native heath of Drustvar painted the surrounding countryside in stark browns and purples as far as the eye could see. Winds swept the plains, rippling across the tussock and bare weathered stones of the steep hills that dotted the area. Atop each hill, a series of large and ancient stones had been arrayed into circles. Whatever carvings they had once borne had long since been stripped away by the harshness of time and the elements. The ruins stood starkly against the pale grey backdrop of the sky, like a series of broken teeth, or the fingers of giants clawing their way from an untimely grave. 

The Horde flight masters could often be seen struggling to coax giant eagles into their wooden shelters. Sylvanas had been insistent that they use the native birds rather than give themselves away by importing foreign wyverns all the way from Kalimdor. More than once, several Tauren had to rush about after a goblin flight master dangling from the halter of an enormous eagle, which in turn was struggling to navigate the squalls that rolled over the top of the rocky crag. 

Anya complained about the wind nearly every day. Her claims were not unfounded. She would grumble about how her bow and arrow were near useless in this area, which of course resulted in the topic of Sylvanas needing more guards to protect her from potential threats on her life. The proximity of Fletcher’s Hollow and its skirmishes between House Waycrest and Ashvane made both Anya and Nathanos insufferable. They insisted on shadowing their Dark Lady’s every footstep, until she could hardly walk without stepping on one of them.

After weeks of enduring this, Sylvanas was just about ready to kill them. Again. 

“Please tell me Lady Waycrest has finally driven away those Ashvane raiders,” Sylvanas groaned, rubbing at her temples. “These people can’t be that incompetent, can they?”

She was seated at her desk in one of the hastily built, low-slung structures atop Swiftwind Point. A Tauren druid had stooped to enter the front door. With a bow, he handed her a parcel of letters and reports all bundled together with twine and oiled parchment. She murmured her thanks, and he departed without another word. Sighing, she began to unpick the string. 

At a nearby table, Anya had roped Nathanos into playing whist. He was scowling down at his hand of cards, deliberating over his next move. While his shoulders were hunched protectively over his hand, Anya was splayed out in her seat. She sat slumped, with one foot atop the chair beneath her, the other stretched out as far as it would go. One of her arms was flung over the back of her chair, and she dangled her fan of cards in her hand without a care in the world. 

“If there’s anything I’ve learned since being here,” Anya said, her arm lazily swaying back and forth. “It’s that Kul Tirans always find a way to surprise you.”

Sylvanas agreed with an annoyed grunt. Shuffling through the reports, she read labels and arranged them on the table before her in order of importance. She sought out a name in particular, and when she couldn’t find it her brow darkened. “Why don’t I have an update from the Zandalari treaty yet?”

Without looking up from his hand, Nathanos answered, “From what I understand they are squabbling over concessions.”

The corner of Sylvanas’ mouth turned down sharply. “Tell Lor’themar to stop wasting time, finish the drafting, and arrange for copies to be signed. I want those ships at our disposal before the end of the season.”

“I will see it done,” he said.

His dutiful response did nothing to improve her mood. Sylvanas aimed a glare in his direction and hissed, “Now, Nathanos.”

She could see how the dark note in her voice sent a shiver running down both his and Anya’s spines, and how readily they both responded. They sat bolt upright, their eyes burning bright and alert. Anya’s ears went rigid, and she dropped her hand. The cards scattered along the ground, revealing that there were far too many for a normal hand in whist. 

Rising to his feet, Nathanos flung down his own cards atop the table. “Anything to get me away from this game,” he muttered. As he stomped towards the door, he made sure to tread atop Anya’s cards. 

After he had gone, Anya began picking up all the cards and grumbled, “You couldn’t have waited until after I’d won?”

Sylvanas ignored her. Ever since her second trip to the Crimson Forest, her mood had remained vastly unimproved. 

Her hand strayed to the next report. She checked for proof that the folded letter had not been tampered with, and -- satisfied -- opened it. Her eyes scanned quickly across Velonara’s encoded Thalassian missive. As she read, she pulled over a detailed map of Kul Tiras already weighed down on one section of her desk.

Various notes had been scribbled here and there, predominantly around the various regions of Drustvar. She moved a few more red tokens -- indicating Ashvane forces -- to Fletcher’s Hollow, and a few more black tokens -- indicating Waycrest tokens -- to Barrowknoll. She kept one of the black tokens pinched between thumb and forefinger, using it to tap against the inlet of Fallhaven. 

Sylvanas had already thought of how she would invade Drustvar. If she were in Ashvane’s over-polished shoes, she would sail her ships right up to the real prize of Drustvar’s west coast, strangle Fallhaven for a good year or two of besieging, and then mop up the rest of the west after winter passed. The mountains bisecting the region cleanly in two clearly marked Arom’s Stand importance, as it sat astride the only route over the mountains that an invading army could take. There were no good landing zones for troop barges on the eastern coast. Too many cliffs. And the inlet near Falconhurst was lousy with shoals. No ship larger than a sloop would risk navigating those waters.

Not to mention, the inlet near Falconhurst directly abutted the Crimson Forest. And gods help any army who dared launch an attack on that nightmarish place. 

“Fifteen thousand isn’t enough to fend off a two-pronged attack,” Sylvanas murmured to herself. She dropped the black token onto Fallhaven, and then moved a few more red tokens into Fletcher’s Hollow.

Shuffling the cards between her hands, Anya stood and made her way over to Sylvanas’ desk. She peered down at the map. “They should withdraw all their forces here -” she pointed to Fallhaven. “- and wait out the siege through the winter. The Kul Tirans are mad, but no one is mad enough to try to camp in eastern Drustvar through this weather.”

“I agree,” Sylvanas said without looking up. “But somehow I doubt they’re going to do that.”

“Maybe they have a morale problem?” Anya offered. She expertly shuffled the cards again, showing off by using far more flourishes than necessary. “Maybe if they give up Fletcher’s Hollow, their levied forces will lose heart. Give up. Go home.”

Pursing her lips together, Sylvanas sat back in her seat. She frowned at Barrowknoll. “Or maybe they know something about this place that we don’t. What did you see when you scouted the area?”

Anya shrugged. The deck of cards vanished between her hands, spirited off to gods only knew where. “A village. A town square. Farmers. Sailors. Soldiers. A cemetery. A Church to the Tides. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Hmm.” Pulling the last parcel towards herself, Sylvanas ordered “Have another look, and report back in two days.”

With a bow, Anya left. Drawing the silver hunting knife from her boot, Sylvanas slipped the tip of it beneath the oiled brown paper to carefully slice the packaging. She opened it, and pulled out a book. Its leather jacket was green and aged. The corners were frayed. The pages were yellowed. Its spine had been broken dozens of times throughout the course of its life. She turned it over, searching for a title, but the gilded lettering had long since been rubbed away. The only distinguishing mark still upon the book was a crude and unrecognisable rune pressed into the centre of the front cover. 

Tossing aside the packaging, Sylvanas opened the book. A note from Velonara slipped out, explaining that this was the only thing she had been able to find on the topic of ancient Drust history. Even the title page had been ripped free, and the author’s name in the forward effaced. A quick scan of the forward proved that the author had been one of the original Gilnean settlers, a gentleman by trade and a natural historian by hobby. 

When Sylvanas turned to the first chapter, she paused. The author had included very detailed sketches of what he had encountered during his explorations. One such sketch took up nearly the entire first page. It was of a wicker man, identical to the one Sylvanas had encountered in the Crimson Forest, down to the skull, the bear claws, and the heart staked against its chest. The chapter header read: ‘On the Subject of Iconography and Effigies’

Hastily, Sylvanas flipped further along. She skipped through most of the work until she found what she had been looking for. A chapter entitled: ‘A Catalogue of Kings: Gorak Tul and the Myth of the Witch-King of Thros.’

Sylvanas slowed her reading, carefully scanning each line for information about Gorak Tul, the Horned One, the King Undying, an ancient Drust sovereign prophesied to be defeated by a hero who thwarted death three times. If the author was to be believed, Gorak Tul was naught but a legend. A mythological archetype. A horror story used to scare naughty children. 

But if that were true, then why did Jaina not like Arthur talking about him?

Sylvanas turned the page, then swore softly in Thalassian. 

The rest of the chapter had been ripped out. 

--

This time when Sylvanas went back to the Crimson Forest, Jaina was on the outskirts of Gol Inath. The great tree loomed like the ruins of a stark and bleak cathedral. Though Sylvanas had made sure to arrive during the day, the shadows of this place seemed to cling to life beneath the boughs of the tree. 

Arthur was perched on Sylvanas’ shoulder as she arrived, guiding her faithfully onwards. This time, Sylvanas spied one or two humanoid figures around the base of Gol Inath, but none of them were Jaina. They stopped to stare at her as she passed, their expressions guarded. She ignored them, following Arthur’s cheerful directions even while she refused to respond to his usual chatter. 

She found Jaina in a flat clearing between two twisted roots of Gol Inath. Jaina was kneeling on the ground with her back turned, still wearing her skull mask despite not expecting company. Her staff was nowhere in sight. On the forest floor beside her, the enormous ink-black doe was sprawled on its side. For a moment, Sylvanas thought it was dead, but then its head lifted with a weary whine, its star-bright eyes squinting before it flopped back down.

“Shh.” Jaina placed her palm upon the Wild God’s flank, rubbing in a soothing manner. “It’ll be alright, Athainne. We’ll get you through this soon enough.”

“Hunters?” Sylvanas asked, drawing closer. Arthur pushed himself off her shoulder and flew off to a low branch, where he watched. “I didn’t think they’d be able to harm her.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Jaina said, “Nothing so grim.” 

Sylvanas stopped when she was standing just beside her. From this distance, the round bulge of the doe’s stomach was clear. Frowning, Sylvanas asked, “She’s pregnant?”

Jaina hummed. “Breech birth. This is going to get messy.”

With a grimace at her own poor timing, Sylvanas said, “I should come back later.”

But Jaina only shrugged. “Do as you like. You can stay. So long as you can stomach a bit of bodily fluids. Otherwise, I recommend you go stand over there for a bit.” She pointed back towards the massive trunk of Gol Inath.

“I’m not the squeamish sort.”

“Oh, good. Then you won’t mind helping.”

Sylvanas’ ears shot up in surprise. “You can’t be serious.”

Jaina was already shuffling towards the doe’s rear legs. “And why not? I could use an extra pair of hands.”

“I am not putting my hands up there.”

“I meant with the pulling later.” Meanwhile Jaina was unwinding her own handwraps, and folding up the sleeves of her robes nearly to her shoulders.  

Nodding towards the mask, Sylvanas asked, “How can you even see through that?”

“Magic,” Jaina said simply, tossing her handwraps further away so they wouldn’t get soiled. 

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. “That’s a lie.”

Laughing softly, Jaina said, “Only half of one.” And without a mote of hesitation, she stuck her hand into the doe until her elbow all but disappeared. The doe made a noise of complaint, which Jaina hushed. As she began rummaging around, she craned her neck to look at Sylvanas. “Now, to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your company this time?”

While not the most bizarre situation Sylvanas had ever found herself in, it ranked pretty highly among them. Which meant her first instinct was to default to putting her hands behind her back in an officious pose. “As I’m sure you already know, Lady Ashvane’s forces have begun their siege of Fallhaven.”

“If it’s the safety of Swiftwind Post you’re worried about, you could always pack up and leave.” Jaina had to turn her head back around, her hand feeling around blindly inside the doe. 

Sylvanas arched an eyebrow at her. “Is that why you gave it to me? In the hopes it would act as a deterrent when the surrounding area was eventually overrun?”

“No.” Jaina grabbed something and pulled. Her arm emerged slippery and spotted with flecks of darker fluid. When only one little hoof came with her closed fist, she reached back in for the other. “Your presence there makes my forces seem larger than they are. It’s useful. Keeps the enemy second-guessing their reports. Plus it makes them wonder why I would put an outpost up on a brae in the middle of nowhere.”

Sylvanas’ posture relaxed somewhat. That wasn’t so far-fetched. If she hadn’t been so sure that her people could defend the position, she might have been angry. But Jaina had been right. Swiftwind Post was a craggy rock of highground on its own in the middle of heath fields that stretched all the way to the Sounds. It would take half an army to flush out even a small cohort entrenched there. 

“You should be drawing everything to Fallhaven to protect it,” Sylvanas said. “You can afford to lose Fletcher’s Hollow, but you can’t afford to lose Fallhaven. Why you’re even bothering to wait for a retreat north across Barrowknoll is beyond me.”

“Maybe I’m a tactical genius,” Jaina said dryly.

“Says the woman with her arm shoved halfway up a deer.” Sylvanas drawled. “Unless there’s something special about that place you’re not telling me about?”

Shifting her weight forward, Jaina braced her free hand against the ground and rearranged her other arm deeper inside the doe. “You mean you haven’t sent your scouts through the area multiple times?”

Sylvanas grit her teeth. “I have.”

“And?”

“And,” she admitted, “they found nothing.”

“Then there must be nothing special about it.”

Sylvanas had been around many people in her life who frequently entertained the notion that they were the cleverest person in the room. Most of them thrived off the idea, surrounding themselves with simpering sycophants who would tell them everything they desired to hear. Jaina should have fallen in the same category, but somehow she did not. She gave the impression not that she simply thought she was the smartest person in the room, but that she simply was that clever. When others did it, Sylvanas scoffed. When Jaina did it, that truth was unimpeachable. 

It was -- in short -- incredibly aggravating. 

“So, you’re here to convince me my plan is terrible and I desperately need your help. Is that it?” Jaina asked. She had finally managed to get the other hoof out, and was now straightening the fawn in the womb. 

“Only half of the plan.”

“Oh, good,” Jaina grunted, starting to pull on the fawn’s legs until the backs of its haunches were just visible. “Because I was beginning to think the stories I’ve learned about you since our first meeting were blown completely out of proportion.”

It shouldn’t have stroked Sylvanas’ ego as much as it did that she was storied enough to warrant whispers of her name even in a backwater like Kul Tiras. But it definitely did. 

Jaina jerked her head, the skull nodding towards the ground nearby. “Grab that rope for me, won’t you?”

When Sylvanas glanced down, there was indeed a soft hempen rope coiled among the leaves. She leaned down, picked it up, and handed it over as requested. Cocking her head to one side, she watched as Jaina tied the rope around the fawn’s legs, just above its hooves. It was a sailor’s knot, sturdy yet not so tight that it would damage the newborn. 

Keeping tension steady on the rope with one hand, Jaina stood. She used her free hand to dangle the end of the rope at Sylvanas. “Come on, then. Start being useful.”

Grudgingly and hardly believing what she was doing, Sylvanas moved to stand behind Jaina. She grabbed the last length of the rope and planted her feet firmly on the ground. When Jaina lowered her stance, Sylvanas followed suit so that they mirrored one another. 

“Don’t yank,” Jaina warned without looking around. “We want a nice steady pressure. And try to pull as low and horizontal as you can.”

There were worse ways to endear oneself to a potential ally than helping a Wild God give birth near a mythical entrance to the underworld. Though, truth be told, Sylvanas was struggling to think of one at the moment. 

The doe was larger than most horses, her night-dark flank heaving with every breath. Jaina’s hands were slick with blood and mucous; she had to pause to wrap the rope around her hands. Together, they pulled. It took a great deal more force than Sylvanas had initially thought would be necessary, but slowly the fawn began to emerge. At one point Jaina had to stop to ensure its tail was arranged properly before they were pulling again. And then, the fawn slipped to the ground in a rush.

It was completely still, its coat dark with fluids. Immediately Jaina dropped the rope and went down on her knees. Her movements were quick and practiced. She positioned the fawn just so, sticking her fingers into its mouth and nose until it coughed up more fluid and -- finally -- began to breathe. 

“There we go,” Jaina murmured, her voice soft. She began briskly rubbing the fawn down with a handful of dry leaves from the ground. When Athainne started shuffling as if to stand, Jaina pointed at her. “Oh, no you don’t. You stay right there.”

The Wild God huffed wearily at her, but did as it was told. 

Meanwhile, Sylvanas watched this entire interaction with a sense of bewilderment. “Since when do Wild Gods listen to the whims of mortals?”

“Since now,” said Jaina. She was letting the fawn attempt to stagger upright on its reedy legs, and she patted it on its flank in a congratulatory manner when it managed to succeed. 

Sylvanas coiled the rope neatly around her arm, tying it off and dropping it to the ground. “Why not just solve the problem magically? Why go through all this?”

“I would have, if necessary. But I didn’t need to. They’ll both be fine.” After she had wiped her own hands and arms down as much as she could, Jaina rose to her feet. “As for your military concerns: thank you, but no thank you.” Unrolling the sleeves of her robes, she began gathering up her handwraps and the length of rope. She said dismissively, “You can go, now.”

Sylvanas did not budge. “Sooner or later, they’re going to find out about you. The Drust aren’t a target now, but the moment anyone gets wind that you’re alive...” She trailed off, leaving the repercussions unspoken.

“Maybe. But they don’t know yet.” Suddenly, Jaina froze. She turned towards Sylvanas. “Do they?” she asked, and for a brief moment the dark eye sockets of the skull blazed with a fierce blue light. "Did you tell them? About me?"

"No."

The skull remained fixed and staring at her, deadly silent.

Sylvanas met her glower for glower. "If they know about you, they did not learn it from me."

Jaina remained quietly glaring. Then, she continued gathering up her things. Behind her, the fawn had ambled shakily over to its mother, and was now getting licked clean. 

Sylvanas thought of Katherine, of how her own sources in Boralus had gone quiet over the last few weeks. “Shouldn’t you be worried about what’s happened to your mother? If they are bold enough to attack Drustvar at all, then the power of the Admiralty is waning far more than just a few months ago.”

“My mother can take care of herself,” Jaina said, but her voice was too controlled, too even. 

“And what will happen to your House when she finally dies?” Sylvanas pressed, her arms crossed. “Will you do nothing? Will you let your family name fall into obscurity?”

Her calm finally broken, Jaina whirled about. “Why do you care? This isn’t your fight! You’re only here because you want something you can’t have!” She slashed through the air with her open hand, and the very earth seemed to hold its breath, the shadows of Gol Inath gathering at her feet. “Well, I won’t be the one to give it to you! I will not be the pawn in your game with the Alliance!”

The moment the darkness began to coalesce at the base of the roots, Athainne’s ears had pinned back. Suddenly, Sylvanas found herself pinned by the gazes of both an angry Archdruid and a threatened Wild God with a newborn foal. She gazed coolly back at them, refusing to give an inch. 

“Fine.” Without preamble, Sylvanas turned and began to stride away. “We shall do it your way. I will withdraw my people from Swiftwind Post and the Eastern Cliffs, as you so clearly desire.”

Jaina’s head jerked. The shadows faded. “What -?” 

Giving a little wave of her hand, Sylvanas continued on without turning around. “No, you’ve utterly convinced me, High Thornspeaker. This is not my fight.”

Behind her, Sylvanas could hear Jaina spluttering, “Now, hang on just a -! Sylvanas. Sylvanas!” 

But Sylvanas did not pause. She continued walking, and when Arthur tried to flutter down onto her shoulder, her hands flew to her bow. His wings flared and he veered off, landing instead in a nearby tree. Bow nocked and ready with a black-tipped arrow, Sylvanas left the Crimson Forest, and this time nobody followed.

--

Back at Swiftwind Post, Sylvanas gave the order that they were to make it appear like the Horde was packing up their camps. More importantly, she gave the order that Arthur was no longer allowed near their encampments, and that her rangers had free reign to shoot any ravens they saw venturing too close. None of them did. The ravens all seemed far too clever for that, and stayed far away from the Horde outposts, which seemed to irk Anya to no end. She would watch the skies, finger stroking over her bowstring in cold anticipation.

On the other hand, Mace was permitted to stay, which only seemed to confuse both her and the rangers. To puzzle them even further, Sylvanas took to letting Mace into the command building atop Swiftwind Post. The one who seemed most confused by this turn of events was Mace herself, who would sit on a low stool near the front exit. Wood shavings would pile up at her feet as she would nervously carve her little figures, her dark eyes darting around the room whenever Sylvanas occupied it. Whenever Sylvanas spoke to her, Mace would start, as though afraid Sylvanas had changed her mind and decided that the game was up. 

It took longer than anticipated for the eventual result. But ultimately, Lucille Waycrest came knocking at Sylvanas’ door. 

"Did you know," she said, as an undead guardsman shut the door behind her, locking out the howling gale, "that it is very difficult to get up here?"

"I am aware," Sylvanas drawled. "But now that you're here, you can fill me in on your latest plans, and save Velonara the cost of paper and ink."

The windows faintly rattled in their frames as the wind whistled over the heather and hills. Running her fingers through her dark hair until it had regained some semblance of order, Lucille admitted, "Actually I was hoping you could tell me."

Sylvanas blinked. Her pen paused over the page. "Why would I know?"

Lucille spread her hands. "You think Jaina tells me anything? I'm as much in the dark as anyone. And you're the only non-Drust person I know who ventures so freely into the Crimson Forest, and comes out in one piece."

Careful not to blot ink upon the page, Sylvanas balanced the pen in its inkwell. She leaned back in her seat and studied Lucille over her steepled fingers. Lady Waycrest was young, but she had dark circles under her eyes. Her clothing, while fine, was rumpled. It could have just been courtesy of the wind, but somehow Sylvanas doubted that. The last month or two since their first encounter had put a strain upon her; she looked haggard. 

“You want my help,” Sylvanas said. “But I see no reason why I should give it to you.”

Lucille rocked back on her heels in shock. “Then -? Then why have you been keeping Mace around? Why have you been leaking information to me and not Jaina?”

“Why do you think?” Sylvanas asked.

“Is this some sort of trick question?”

Arching an eyebrow at her, Sylvanas remarked, “You’re not very bright, are you?”

“You -!” Lucille spluttered for words. Pointing out the window towards the encampment, she said incredulously, “You’re unbelievable! You’ve just spent the last few months getting footholds in my land! And now, you -!”

“It’s not really your land though, is it? Legally speaking, perhaps, but we both know how much weight that holds. About as much as this.” Sylvanas took one of the tiny black wooden tokens used to mark the map with troops, and tossed it at Lucille’s feet. “That’s what helping you gets me. So, why would I do it? What do you have to offer me that I would want? Think.”

Lucille’s mouth wrenched open, then shut very quickly again. She swallowed thickly. The brief flash of anger that washed across her features faded, and her expression crumpled. When she spoke her voice was tremulous, “I don’t know.” She had to clear a burr in her throat. “I don’t - I don’t know what I should do.”

Katherine had been right. Lucille Waycrest was a poor ally, indeed. Though not through any fault of her own. This was a girl whose parents had fallen prey to the Heartsbane Coven, witches who worshipped Gorak Tul and sought to retake Drustvar in his name. Her House had been dragged to the brink of destruction. She had barely managed to avoid the fall of her entire family, and even that was hardly from her efforts alone. And now that she was Lady Waycrest, Head of a Great House of Kul Tiras, she was without a mentor, surrounded by even more enemies, adrift in a sea of dangerous politics that she could not hope to navigate alone.

Once, Sylvanas might have taken pity on her -- she might have freely offered advice or guidance -- but not now. Now, Sylvanas did not even offer her a chair.

It was not the principle of the thing. It was the spectacle of it.

And besides, this might even be an educational experience. 

Sitting forward, Sylvanas picked up her pen and returned to drafting her document. “I told you before.” She scratched another line across the page. “Your business is your business. How you go about it is no concern of mine.”

Lucille rubbed at her brow and sighed, “Jaina won’t want to ask for help. She thinks she can win anything by herself. She’s too proud.”

Without looking up, Sylvanas tsked, a light tapping of her tongue against the backs of her teeth. “How very true to her namesake.” She signed the end of the document with a flourish. The last stroke of her name was artfully blotted with ink. “I see you are not as burdened by hubris.”

A muscle twitched at Lucille’s cheek. Still, she said, “No. I am not. I know when I am outmatched and outgunned.”

“That’s a good start, at least.” Sylvanas rubbed at a spot of ink that stained her fingertips. “You want my advice?” 

Lucille bit her bottom chapped lip, then nodded. “I’m listening.”

“The people of Drustvar are superstitious. They follow you not only for your name, but because you are a link to the High Thornspeaker, who defeated the coven of witches that had been terrorising the countryside for years under your family’s rule. Jaina is simultaneously your greatest weakness, and your greatest strength. Which is why I want you here today.” Sylvanas calmly folded her hands in her lap. “Convince Jaina to my terms, and I will consider giving you the support you need.”

A shadow of confusion crossed Lucille’s face. “What are your terms?”

“She already knows. And if she wants to talk, she knows where to find me.” Pointing towards the door, Sylvanas said, “Go. And take your little spy with you.”

For a moment Lucille did nothing. She made an abortive motion, as though she were going to take a step forward, only to turn heel and stride out, leaving Sylvanas alone in the command building. Sylvanas waited a minute or two, then stood and walked over to the door. 

When she pulled it open, she said to one of the guards, “Tell Anya and Nathanos that under no circumstances are they to follow Lady Waycrest. And have Velonara remain in Corlain until further notice.” 

The Forsaken guard bowed, and immediately trotted off to do her bidding. Sylvanas shut the door, returning to her desk. There was far more work to be done. 

--

Eventually, Sylvanas was roped into playing cards. Nathanos flat refused to play, and in turn Anya would not accept no as an answer. Or at least, she did, but she sulked about it, all while denying that she was definitely not sulking about it. 

Outside, rain pummeled the windows, and the sky was dark with early evening cloud. Lightning flashed intermittently, followed by the low long roll of thunder. Meanwhile, Sylvanas was losing her fourth game of whist in a row, even after she had ordered Anya to rid herself of any extra cards with which she might cheat. They sat in silence. Sylvanas had cleared one side of her usual work desk in front of the hearth to give them space to play. 

Sylvanas' red eyes burned over her hand, her gaze hotter than the flames that licked the stone hearth black and sooty. "You have always been a filthy little cheat. Where are you hiding them this time?"

Anya played a trump card, winning the round, and said calmly, "I don't know what you're talking about, my Queen."

"Do you like having a tongue? Or would you rather I unburden you from it?"

Anya stuck out said tongue in reply, then said, "And you always were a sore loser."

Sylvanas opened her mouth to retort, but her ears twitched towards the door. Shouts and the sounds of a commotion outside. Both their heads whipped around. They rose to their feet, cards forgotten. Anya had an arrow nocked and drawn in an instant. The moment the door burst open, she fired two shots in rapid succession, her arm a blur of motion. 

The arrows froze midair before they could reach their destination. They hung in the air as a massive shape shadowed the doorstep. The extra guards flanking the doorway were struggling against something. Their feet were just visible, flailing wildly as they were lifted from the ground and pinned against the outer walls, their weapons clattering to the earth. 

Jaina had to duck her head to step inside. Her shoulders stooped, then straightened to their full height once more. Water dripped onto the floor at her bare feet, pooling behind her with every step. With a bored wave of her hand, the arrows fell to the floor. 

The skull mask looked at Sylvanas, and then -- pointedly -- at Anya, who had a third arrow drawn and ready to loose. 

"Anya," said Sylvanas, not taking her eyes off Jaina, "Leave us."

Anya began to hiss a complaint, but Sylvanas made a sharp gesture, cutting her off. Grudgingly, Anya lowered her weapon. She left, stepping around Jaina, who refused to give way. When she was outside, she shut the door hard enough to let her displeasure be known. 

"You better not have killed any of my people," Sylvanas said once they were alone. "Otherwise, I will reconsider our little arrangement."

"They'll be fine." 

Jaina moved closer to the fire. The shadow she cast swallowed the opposite wall and half the floor. The shape of it did not seem to quite match her actual figure, flickering darkly against the panelled wood. It was the first time Sylvanas had ever seen her indoors. Somehow, Jaina made the room feel too small just by standing in it. From this angle, Sylvanas could just make out the hint of her jaw behind the mask. 

After a moment of tense silence, Jaina spoke, her tone curt. “I don’t appreciate being toyed with or manipulated.”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” said Sylvanas, repeating back to Jaina the very words she had spoken on their first meeting. “And I don’t appreciate you barging in here, unannounced, after having strangled my guards on your way in.”

“I figured I ought to repay you for the way you first visited me.” Jaina leaned her staff against the wall so that it rested on the edge of the mantlepiece. The action was nonchalant, as though she were hanging up her coat from the rain, not propping up an object that crackled with dark magics. “Going after Lucille was low. Even for you.”

“I thought I was rather gentle with her, actually.” 

The skull swung in Sylvanas’ direction, its stare incredulous.

Sylvanas shrugged. “Gentler than Ashvane would have been, anyway. Or even your mother, for that matter.”

A grunt of concession. Jaina turned back to the fire. It cast off sparks that sputtered at her feet, never quite reaching the ragged and muddy hems of her robes. “I’m surprised. When I’d heard she was coming here, I thought I’d lost a friend for good.”

With a snort, Sylvanas said, “Do you treat all your friends like pawns?”

“I am protecting her.” Jaina’s voice rasped. 

“I’m not interested in the lies the living tell themselves to sleep better at night.” Sylvanas leaned her hip upon the side of the table, and crossed her legs at the ankle. “And you didn’t come here to tell me off for being hard on your so-called ‘friend.’”

Sylvanas could hear the sharp intake of breath behind that mask. Jaina drew herself up, but her shoulders remained stiff. The firelight limned the edges of the skull in a sickly ochre glow. Eventually, she said, “Give me reserve troops and more coin, and I will consider your proposition.”

“I want more than empty promises.”

“Then what do you want?”

In answer, Sylvanas reached behind herself. She pulled a piece of parchment from a stack of documents on the desk. It was long, trailing nearly to her waist, and filled with neat lines so finely written upon the page, that it appeared more ink than anything else. At the bottom, Sylvanas’ waxen seal was already pressed and dried beneath her signature. 

She held the page out to Jaina, who stepped forward and took it cautiously. Jaina took her time reading over every line of fine print. When she got to the end, she glanced at Sylvanas over the document. “How long have you had this prepared for? Days? Weeks?”

Sylvanas fluttered her fingers in a vague gesture. “A while.”

Jaina’s hand clenched into a fist around the page, crumpling it. She took a deep breath and smoothed it out once more. Then, to Sylvanas’ surprise, she laughed. Sylvanas’ long ears tilted up, and her posture straightened. Jaina was laughing to herself softly, ruefully, shaking her head. The motion rustled the leaves and tokens of her cloak like the wind through the boughs of trees. 

“Predictable,” Jaina chuckled.

Immediately, Sylvanas’ ears slanted back. Her brow darkened. “Is that so?”

Jaina waved the paper at her dismissively. “Not you. I was talking about myself.” Her thumb traced over the blank space where her own signature was supposed to go, right beside Sylvanas’ name. “If I sign this, I will have your support?” 

“You will.”

Turning back to the document, Jaina scoured it from top to bottom again. And then once more. She drew up next to Sylvanas to reach the table, where she set the document down on a bit of clear space. She grabbed up a pen, dipped it into a spare inkwell, and began to cross out certain sections. 

Not moving from where she leaned against the desk, Sylvanas peered over Jaina’s shoulder. “Did your Drust education come with a healthy dose of law, as well?” she asked dryly. “Or is that due to another time in your upbringing?”

With a wordless grunt, Jaina slashed the pen across three of the clauses near the end. “If I am going to become the Lord Admiral and open the borders, then I will do so on my terms. Not yours. Not anyone’s.”

The corner of Sylvanas’ mouth turned down in annoyance. Still, she only hummed darkly in agreement. “And removing my exclusive rights to military bases?”

The skull tilted in her direction as Jaina glanced balefully over at her. “You may keep your civilian outposts, but there is no way I will allow a foreign military presence on Kul Tiran soil after this internal disagreement between the Houses has been settled.”

Jaina re-read the agreement for a final time, pen poised over the place where her name was to be signed. When the pen was just about to touch the parchment however, Sylvanas cleared her throat. Jaina straightened and turned to her in questioning silence.

“It needs to be witnessed,” Sylvanas explained.

“Bring your witness, then,” said Jaina impatiently. 

It took only a moment to get Nathanos inside. He had been lurking just outside the front door, alongside what seemed to be every member of the Horde in the camp. Most had their weapons drawn, ready for anything. Steel glinted wetly through the rain-darkened air. Sylvanas gave the assembled little crowd a cool look, then jerked her head for Nathanos to follow her.

She shut the door behind them. Nathanos hair was slicked back to his head, and his coat was soaked, but he paid no attention to the rain. The golden glow of his eyes glowered in silent disapproval first at Jaina -- for daring to endanger the Dark Lady -- and then at Sylvanas -- for daring to put herself in danger in the first place. 

Sylvanas strode past him, making her way back towards the desk. "You can be angry with me later, Nathanos. Right now, we need a witness."

"Very well," he murmured, and though his tone was light and cultured his expression was foreboding. 

Jaina waited for him to join them. Then she took up the pen once more.

Sylvanas cleared her throat again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Jaina jerked upright, the pen clenched between her fingers in a white-knuckled grip. "What now?"

Sylvanas pointed at her. "Your mask. We need to be able to faithfully verify your identity."

For a moment Jaina did nothing. Then, muttering foul curses under her breath, she threw the pen down onto the desk. It sent a splatter of ink across some of Sylvanas' other documents, but left their agreement unscathed. She reached up, fingers curling around the base of the skull at her neck, and lifted the mask away. 

She was both younger and older than Sylvanas had expected. Her mouth was pinched in displeasure, her jaw bullishly set. A deep scar ran down the right side of her face, bisecting one of her eyes, so that it peered out, white and blind. Her other eye was the same icy blue as her mother’s. Indeed, they looked remarkably similar, but for Jaina’s tall, broad-shouldered build. Streaks of her original hair colour gleamed golden in the firelight, as though whatever weapon had slashed across her face had drained everything out of that side. 

She tucked the skull under one arm and glared challengingly at both of them. “I am Jaina Proudmoore, youngest child of Daelin Proudmoore and Katherine Proudmoore née Grey. Being of sound mind and body, I am willfully signing this agreement to a temporary alliance with the Warchief of the Horde, Sylvanas Windrunner, Dark Lady of the Forsaken, under the discretion of -” she waved towards Nathanos, “- whoever the fuck you are. Now, can we get on with it? Or are you going to continue to be a pain in the neck?”

Giving a mock bow, Sylvanas said, “By all means.”

Without another word, Jaina turned back to the document. She snatched up the pen, dipped it into the inkwell, and signed. Handing the pen to Nathanos, he signed between both their names. Then with a last baleful look in Sylvanas’ direction, Jaina crammed the skull back over her head, wrenching at its jaw to secure the mask more firmly in place. 

She was halfway to the exit, when Sylvanas called after her. “Be sure to give my compliments to Lady Waycrest for actually managing to change your mind.”

Jaina paused with her hand on the door. “She didn’t.”

A furrow marred Sylvanas’ brow. “Then who did?”

“Arthur.”

The door swung inwards, admitting a sheet of rain onto the floorboards, and Jaina strode out without a second glance. She did not bother shutting the door behind her. Picking up the document, Sylvanas watched Jaina’s retreat. The members of the Horde congregating outside parted before her like waves before a ship’s prow. And a familiar raven swooped down and landed on her shoulder. 

Then one of the Forsaken guardsmen reached in, and shut the door, shutting out the image and the rain. 

Tapping her finger against the edge of the parchment, Sylvanas asked, “Is that enough proof for you?”

At her side, Nathanos grunted sourly. “I am adequately convinced. Though your stage performance was rather lackluster, in my opinion.”

“I wouldn’t exactly describe you as a patron of the arts, either.”

“Somehow I feel the theatrics aren’t over yet.”

Rather than answer, Sylvanas merely lifted one shoulder in a lofty shrug.

“Why are you baiting her? Why waste time?” Nathanos asked. “If we had given our support immediately, then Drustvar would have been in our debt. Our military presence would be too difficult to dislodge without taking more formal avenues. The outcome would have been the same.”

“Because now I have what I truly wanted in Kul Tiras.” Sylvanas lifted the document in her hands. Jaina’s signature was still wet; the ink gleamed in the firelight. She smiled. “An open invitation.”

[enchantedsugden]

crystal clear on a starlit night

ao3 link

after their fight and lots of thinking, aaron goes to find robert.

or, aaron doesn't beat up kasim that night in january.

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

He hears the shouting, recognizes Finn’s voice. He feels angry and lost and then he’s thinking about what Finn told him- how Kasim’s dad doesn’t accept the fact his son’s gay- and it makes him even angrier. He’s about to get up and march over to where the voices are coming from when he stops himself. He thinks about why he is angry, he thinks about this morning when he was so happy- Robert calling him bridezilla, picking up their suits, being excited about getting married.

He’s hardly seen Robert today, only this morning when things were still good and then again later when everything started falling apart.

He looks around, watching his breath in the cold air and listening to the still shouting voices. He doesn’t want to drink anymore, the alcohol still burning his throat. Vic’s left him and he thinks about what she said-

“You could always accept him for who he is.”

Vic’s right, he doesn’t want Mr. average- all he wants is Robert. But he can’t believe Robert wants him, he just can’t and that’s the problem. Not when the older man could have anyone he wanted-when Rebecca is right there. He believes Robert- he knows he was only at Home Farm for a meeting, he believes Robert thinks he wants Aaron- he believes-

He sighs- knows that if anything, he is pushing Robert exactly to where he’s already at in Aaron’s head.

There are tears on his face and he wipes them away, his fingers numb from the cold. He looks at the ring, thinks about Robert’s ring in the back room of the pub. Robert risked his life for those rings.

Is Robert still at the pub? Where else would he go, Vic’s?

“You could always accept him for who he is.”

“You could always accept him for who he is.”

It won’t stop echoing in Aaron’s head.

“I don’t know who he is Vic, that’s the problem.” But he does know doesn’t he? He knows Robert. He knows Robert is not Mr. average, that he is a flirt, that he is somebody who attracts attention- he knows all that. He once told Robert he thinks he is the only one who truly knows him, more than two years ago- and it’s even more true now. He knows him better than Vic does- because he knows about-

He gulps. His head feels woozy from the drink but there is also a sense of clarity there when he really thinks about what he’s said to Robert.

Yes, his fiancé might not be completely comfortable with liking men yet but he knows all about that doesn’t he? Aaron thinks about how not being entirely comfortable about something and not accepting it, are two different things. Robert accepts that part of himself, he does and Aaron knows that. They are together, live together, they are about to get married. Robert has proven his love for Aaron over and over again.

Aaron knows him best out of everybody because he knows about Jack- he knows.

“I want to be myself now, with you.”

God, Aaron feels sick.

Aaron doesn’t understand it- he doesn’t. He likes men and that is that. But Robert, Robert likes both and he told Aaron. And he got to tell Aaron that on his own terms in his own time, well sort of anyway.

What Robert shouted at Aaron back at Home Farm wasn’t right and Aaron knows that- he also knows that it comes from something buried deep within Robert, something that he’s only just started to sort though. But even though Aaron doesn’t quite get it- he knows that what he’s shouted at Robert isn’t right either.

 “If we hadn’t been through this a thousand times.”

“I can’t make you happy mate, I mean literally I can’t do it.”

 This sick feeling doesn’t die down, it just gets worse.

Even though he is upset, angry and drunk- he knows he’s hurt Robert too, just like Robert has hurt him.

Robert told him something months ago, something so important and personal. Something that was buried deep beneath the surface and Aaron had just dismissed all of that in one day, or multiple days really- his jealousy having reared its ugly head in the past month. He can’t really think of another reason for this other than fear. Fear of losing Robert. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of Robert realising he can have anyone he wants.

Not for the first time that evening Aaron realises that his reaction to these fears will most likely be the cause of these fears coming true- if he carries on like this.

“You’re scared of being happy.”

Maybe just maybe Robert wasn’t wrong when he said that.

“If we hadn’t been through this a thousand times.” Aaron remembers the way Robert’s voice broke at this. His heart aches.

He wants to curl up in a ball and forget the world for a bit but that isn’t going to help anyone. He wants Robert, more than anything. And he has him- he knows that. They just need to sort stuff out, get the basics right. Aaron does trust Robert but his brain lets him think he shouldn’t. Because he can’t imagine that anyone would want him, let alone someone like Robert.

They need to sort stuff out. Maybe they need to go through it all just one more time.

He touches his face- also numb from the cold and feels how his tears have dried up, making his skin feel tight.

He needs to find Robert.

  “Vic, where is he? Is he at yours?”

Aaron ignores the way Kerry is staring at him.

“What?” Vic says, looking him up and down clearly concerned.

“I thought he might still be here, but he’s not. He isn’t upstairs either.”

“Yeah uh-“ she hesitates before reaching into her pocket and handing him over her keys. “You’re not going to fight again are ya?”

“No I just want to talk to him. We need to talk.” She nods and Aaron takes her keys.

“I know you’re upset and I know he shouldn’t have lied but Aaron- he seemed really upset, defeated almost.” Aaron feels his heart sink even though it’s not news to him. He had seen it himself. Maybe that was what had shocked him the most. His usual determined, optimistic, strong fiancé giving up, accepting defeat.

 “What’s the point”

“There isn’t one.”

 There is and Aaron is going to show him. He’s not giving up on them, he can’t. Not after everything they have been through, not after all those months of Robert being there for him, waiting for him. Not after Robert proving his commitment and love for him.

“Thanks Vic- honest” Aaron says realising how much he loves and appreciates her. It can’t be easy for her to deal with idiots like him and Robert. The way she is able to be there for the both of them without picking a side, it’s admirable.

 He runs to the backroom, grabs Robert’s ring and heads out.

   Keepers Cottage is in total darkness as Aaron slips inside and heads upstairs almost straight away. He glances at Victoria’s couch but he can’t make out a figure so he supposes Robert has gone to his old room. The room where he shouldn’t have to be anymore. He knocks and waits a second before he opens the door.

“Rob? It’s me.” His voice is just above a whisper as he takes in the room, it’s also in total darkness but he can clearly see a figure laying on the bed, a bag next to it.

“Aaron?” Robert says and Aaron nods before realising he should probably turn on the lights.

“Left” Robert says clearly getting what Aaron’s looking for.

Robert blinks against the light and Aaron takes him in. He looks small and when Robert stares back at him he can see that Robert’s eyes are red. Aaron’s heart lurches.

“What are you doing here Aaron?”

“I came to talk to you- I think we need to don’t you?”

Robert looks doubtful but gives him a vague nod.

“Talk- no yelling” Aaron adds.

He looks at the bag on Robert’s bed and feels the older man watching him.

“I didn’t want to leave- I don’t want to leave, or take my ring off. I just didn’t know what else to do anymore.”

“I know” Aaron finally moves from his spot and goes to sit on the bed. Robert manoeuvres a bit so that they are sitting next to each other, not quite touching but they’re close enough.

“I’m sorry” they both say it and look at each other in confusion before they’re grinning, it breaks the tension and Aaron grabs Robert’s hand.

He can’t look at Robert so he just stares at his hand, strokes a thumb over his knuckles and starts talking.

“Robert I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t accept you. And I know that that is exactly what I’ve done. I know you- I really know you and I just want you. I don’t want us to break up, I want us to get married and be happy.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“I know it doesn’t seem that way but I do. It’s just hard to believe you want me and yeah that makes me do things that will push ya away in a way that almost makes me able to justify all these thoughts. But it’s my brain- telling me that this can’t be real. That I can’t be enough for ya.”

Robert gulps, hesitating “what about- counselling?”

Aaron nods and sees relief flash across Robert’s face, he squeezes his hand. He’s not mad at Robert for bringing it up, knows it will help.

“I am thinking of going again yeah. Because we deserve to be happy don’t we? After everything.”

Robert nods, thinking of what Vic said. “After everything- we can’t just give up. I am sorry that I nearly did. I didn’t mean to it was just the only thing I could think of.”

“Because I pushed you away.”

“I want you, just you, only you.”

“I know that- and one day I will fully believe that, and I am going to work towards that yeah?”

“I will do it with you- if you want me to, whatever you need Aaron.”

Tears are pooling in Aaron’s eyes. He loves Robert, so much. His fiancé once again proving his love for him.

“Robert?”

“Yeah?”

“I am so sorry for the things I said. It makes me feel sick thinking that I made you feel- unaccepted, after everything you’ve told me.”

Robert looks alarmed and Aaron clarifies “about you being bisexual. I can’t say I understand it completely but I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I know everyone can cheat. I do think all of that paranoia comes from the fact that I just can’t believe you’re with me but I know I made it about your sexuality and that was wrong. I accept you and love you for who you are. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice breaks and he’s not sure what’s making him this upset, it’s probably a combination of things. He’s tired, still drunk and he knows he’s hurt Robert.

“I- it’s okay.” Robert says, clearly lost for words.

“It’s not. It’s really not.”

“I know things would be easier if I was like you but-“

“No” Aaron’s horrified and this sick feeling is back in full force.

“Please don’t say that- don’t ever say that. This is on me Robert. You are you and I love you ok? You’re more than good enough.” It’s hard to explain, Aaron feeling the things he does because he doesn’t feel like he’s good enough but Robert, Robert is good enough. Aaron knows that wholeheartedly.

Robert nods, bewildered.

Aaron wipes at his face and tries not to think about Jack and what he did to Robert, how he made him feel. “Do you forgive me?”

“For what?”

Aaron would probably laugh if it wasn’t all so devastating.

“For what I said.”

“Of course I do.”

Aaron nods and after a few seconds of silence Robert starts to shift, looking uncomfortable and Aaron knows there’s something he wants to say.

“Go on.” They are still holding hands and Aaron squeezes his fiancé’s once again.

“I am always going to find other people attractive- men and women, I can’t help that. I am bisexual. But I won’t act on it because I want you. Just like you will be attracted to other men, but won’t act on it, hopefully.”

Aaron smiles a little, “of course not. And I know, I’m sorry. I am going to try and be better about it all.” They’ve had this conversation before. He hates how deep down he holds these stereotypes because Robert is right- there is no difference. Aaron will be attracted to other people, he has eyes after all and so will Robert but they are together. That’s all there is to it, no matter who they fancy.

“And I am sorry too.” Robert continues. “I should have told you about my meeting with Rebecca- I am sorry that I didn’t.”

Aaron nods, he feels tired- just wants to sleep in Robert’s arms.

“Aaron?”

“Hm?”

“Everything I do- it’s for us. It’s for our future. I want us forever.”

Aaron untangles their hands but only to cup Robert’s face.

“I know- I know that. I see it every day.”

Robert smiles brightly before he’s frowning again- Aaron doesn’t want that. But before he can say anything Robert opens his mouth again.

“I should have never taken it off, the ring I-“

“I have it here” Aaron says quickly. He takes Robert’s hand and slides it back on.

“I was being stupid-“

“We both were. You risked your life getting these back- scrap that. You risked your life to save mine. I know you love me I do.”

“I really do.”

Aaron yawns and Robert smiles at him, a soft expression on his face.

“What do we do now?” Robert says after a few more minutes of silence.

“We go to Las Vegas?” Aaron suggests, watching Robert’s reaction.

“But-“

“Robert it was your birthday present to me. Your wonderful and thoughtful present. I don’t want to ruin that.” Aaron doesn’t think he will ever be over the guilt he feels over ruining Robert’s present all because he felt paranoid again and accepted that Robert was up to no good seconds after Chas showed him that video. Robert didn’t deserve that.

“Okay- I want that too, but are you sure? What about the wedding?”

Aaron sighs. “I am sure. I want to be with you, I think getting away from here for a bit could do us both good. But maybe we should postpone our wedding plans?”

Robert nods “I thinks so too.”

“Yeah? I want to get married to you Robert, as soon as possible. But I’d like to do so when I’ve sorted things out in my head.”

“And I want that too, for both of us. I promise I’ll give you the best day- whenever, wherever.”

“I don’t doubt that for one second.”

 They’re staring at each other, eyes soft when Aaron has to stifle another yawn. Robert laughs “how about we just sleep?”

“Here?”

Robert shrugs “why not?”

“You’re exhausted and I want to be near you. It doesn’t matter whether we go back to the pub or stay here. We wouldn’t be doing any packing anyway. We have time to sort out our luggage tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Aaron says, Robert’s right he is exhausted.

“I’ve had a drink-“

“Or five-“ Robert fills in.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Robert drops his bag on the floor before going to lie down on the bed. It’s clear they are not going to bother with clothes or anything, Aaron doesn’t mind. He takes off his shoes and jacket and drops it on the floor before moving up close to Robert. His fiancé wraps his arms around him and Aaron sighs at the familiarity of it all. He’s so happy to have ended up like this, can’t bear the thought of how this evening could have ended- with them broken up, separated.

Aaron vows to himself that he will always fight for them. He’s proud of himself. He’s used to Robert fighting for them and deep down he knows that Robert will have come to him again even if he’d  seemed defeated. But this time Aaron got there first, realised just how much they were worth fighting for.

“Goodnight, fiancé” he hears Robert whisper and Aaron loves him.

 “Goodnight Rob.”

[dxmedstudent]

Sorry for the question, but you're like the older sister I don't have... My main problem is this: I'm 23, in my last year of med school and I have 0 experience in love. Never had crushes, or kisses, or anything sexual. I'm not gorgeous but neither ugly, just plain and with a terrible case of resting bitch face. It's not that I'm a recluse at home: I go to uni, study at the library, go swimming twice a week, go out with my friends... [1/3]

Yet nobody is interested in me, and at the same time I'm not interested in anybody... And yet I still crave affection. I was watching a movie earlier and the parents of the protagonist die. I felt a sudden, deep sadness mixed with loneliness because I realized that if my parents were to die, I would be completely alone because yes I have friends, but I really have a strong connection with my parents, I don't have anyone else I trust like I trust them...I really don't know what to do or think, because I consciously know that everybody has their own time and their priorities (mine is to graduate med school) but I really, really feel abnormal because in social situations, when my friends talk about their relationship troubles or their exes, I simply stay silent because I have nothing to contribute... I don't even know what I want with this ask, but I just needed to let this off my chest... Thank you for reading.

Hey, friend. There is no need to apologise! I’m always here to listen if it will make you feel better. You aren’t abnormal, just because you’re experiencing life differently to your friends. Everyone experiences life differently, including romance and sexual attraction. It sounds like you feel left out of discussion, particularly as you don’t feel you can add something due to your lack of experience. You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to, and it’s perfectly legitimate for you to just not be interested in them at all. There’s a huge pressure on young people to be in relationships or out there having sex, but that doesn’t mean it’s right for everyone. You don’t have to have experiences to talk about these things; I was giving relationship advice long before I had one of my own. You don’t have to earn the right to talk about these things, if they do interest you, either. You sound like a perfectly normal person; most of us look average; I certainly would never describe myself as stunning. Of the happiest married people I know, I wouldn’t say they are the most conventionally attractive, but that doesn’t matter to your partners. So I want you to know that your looks are not a problem. You say people aren’t interested in you, but I do wonder if it’s because it’s not something you’re interested in, and therefore the vibes you give reflect that. I’m pretty sure I’ve given ‘do not disturb vibes’ like that during busy, stressful parts of my life when romance was the last thing on my mind. Likewise, even when I’ve tried to make friends, I could spot the people a mile off who just... aren’t interesed in getting to know anyone, thank you very much. When you’re open to meeting new people, and actively engaging with people with forming relationships (whether friendship or romance/sexual relationships) as an option, it feels different. But, friend, what I’m hearing from you  - correct me if I’m reading it wrong - is that you perhaps don’t feel a desire to form romantic relationships, or a sexual attraction to people, that you know of. Have you ever considered that you might be part of the aromantic/asexual spectrum?  Sometimes it helps for us to consider where on the spectrum of sexuality we stand; there’s no right answer, only what feels right to you. Not only are some people asexual or aromantic, some people are demi or gray - they experience attraction under more specific circumstances; say, after a bond has been formed, or maybe just more rarely. I don’t know if this is something you’ve ever considered? Have you ever chatted to someone about it? What you’re prioritising at that point also matters; even the people I know who are definitely not aro/ace or demi/grey can go years without pursuing relationships if they are preoccupied or demoralised. I certainly have; a combination of rarely meeting people that ‘clicked’, but also just focusing on other things. But although that may be a part of it for you, it sounds like sexual attraction or relationships may not be something you feel a craving for, or being drawn to. Only you will know, so if that doesn’t feel like it describes you, then it doesn’t.

I’m gonna share something very personal with you, that few people know about me IRL: I’ve never had many crushes; it always seemed to me that other girls were always fiercely crushing. It didn’t help that I had a knack for the unrequited more often than not.  I considered the possibility of being somewhere on the demi/grey spectrum, but really it doesn’ matter; I’m me, and it doesn’t matter if I fall in love once or 100 times, what matters is the connections I make when I make them. I think it has a lot to do with my faceblindness; when your brain finds it hard to remember faces, I wonder if crushes just work differently. Mainly, it becomes more of a problem if you just don’t meet many people, so you can counter it by trying to cast the net a bit wider.  Lots of activities are fulfilling but not social; libraries and hanging out with friends are wonderful, but neither necessarily involve meeting new people who you might click with. If you want to meet people, I’d recommend either clubs and social activities you like, or something like online dating. I realised that I just wasn’t meeting many new people through friends or at work, and most of those people were taken, and I liked very few people. When you open it up to something like online dating, there’s the potential to talk to (and eventually meet) lots of people, so it increases your chance of getting to know or be attracted to someone you like, if you find that’s a rare event for you. If you need to get to know people to feel attracted, then mixing with your friends’ friends, or getting to know colleagues at work, or making friends through a club can be a good way of getting to know lots of people, until you find someone ‘special’.   I want you to know that it’s OK, whether you crush on people all the time, rarely crush on people, or never crush on people. Even if you’re completely asexual and aromantic, it’s completely valid, and it doesn’t mean you can’t form deep, meaningful relationships with people. Asexual people often still form romantic partnerships (with or without sex) if they choose to, and aromantic people often find fulfilment in deep platonic relationships even though there is no romance involved. You talk about desiring affection, and wanting someone to be very close to; those are possible even if you’re not sexually or romantically attracted to someone. Because support and intimacy come in all sorts of forms; I’m proud to say that some of my friendships are very intimate in terms of what we trust each other with (though completely different to my romantic relationships, that doesn’t make them lesser); so you can definitely find people who you can form close, trusting, long-lasting and share your life with them. One of my most wonderful friends is going through a hard time; they were disowned by their abusive family a long time ago, and now they are going through a divorce; they are scared of being left all alone. Having a romantic relationship is no guarantee of lifelong support, because circumstances change. Which is why nurturing meaningful friendships is also important. It’s tough, but we are here for them; out of a close knit group, everyone immediately offered to put them up at the first hint of trouble, and the group shares things we’d share with almost nobody else. The relationships that are close, and last, can look different for everyone; you will find something that works for you.  I think it might help you to read up about aro/ace spectrum, and talk to people who are going through something similar. I also think it might help for you to take some time to think about why you want someone. Connection and intimacy, yes. Having someone you trust. But is that something you desire from a relationship? Is that something you feel you get from your current friends? Is that something you feel you could get from a very close friend or platonic life partner? You don’t have to find the answer to any questions any time soon. But there’s definitely plenty of hope for you to find intimacy and companionship in your life.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Hopelessly Devoted (one-shot)

Synopsys: The Reader has been in love with Steve for a while, but the only problem is- he’s with someone else. Bucky has been in love with the Reader for years, the only problem is- she doesn’t love him. But a night spent together at a gala might change people’s feelings.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: SMUT; unprotected sex (gotta wrap it up before you do the devil’s tango), swearing and the usual stuff

Word count: 5771

   Y/N’s heart clenched as she looked at Steve, his hand intertwined with Dalia’s while they smiled at one another. She had been crushing on the Captain for almost four years but he obviously didn’t feel the same. But right at that same time, his best friend Bucky Barnes was giving Y/N the exact look as she curled up in Natasha’s side, the redhead lazily stroking the other woman’s hair.    Bucky sipped a bit more of his coffee, letting the bitter taste trickling down his throat match what he felt on the inside. The newest season of ‘Brooklyn 9-9’ was mindlessly playing on the big screen before a loud voice interrupted their peace.    “Listen up, jerks!” Tony’s voice boomed throughout the room. “In two days there is going to be a gala. Here in the tower, so you don’t have to be babies about not wanting to drive anywhere. It’s a black-tie event. All of you have to be there. We’re trying to make good with the public since you know... Sokovia... so please be nice. Thank you that is all.” And in a true Stark fashion, he sauntered away without taking any murmurs of protest into account.    "I really don’t wanna do this,” Y/N groaned pushing her head in the crook of Natasha’s neck, who gently patted her fellow Avenger's head.    “I know, sweetie, but hey- free booze and food!”    “It’s not like we pay for our stuff anyways. Everything is on Tony’s credit card,” the Y/H/C haired girl replied before pushing off the couch and making her way into the kitchen where Bucky was sitting by the countertop on a barstool.    His blue gaze followed every single move of hers, but most importantly how the muscles scrunched up her face in disgust.    “Not a fan of parties?” Bucky chuckled, handing Y/N her favourite mug.    “Not a fan of getting ready, not being able to stay in my PJs and having to wear heels that make my legs look fucking amazing while at the same time wishing I could just cut my feet off.”    He snorted, shaking his head and taking a big gulp of coffee.    “You sure it has nothing to do with those two?” Bucky pointed at Steve and his blonde girlfriend. In an already sour mood, Y/N flipped the man off. Obviously, he didn’t take it to heart, but then an idea popped into his head when he heard her mutter a quiet ‘what if it is?’.    “Do you want to go with me?” Bucky asked, his eyes defiantly looking at how the spoon made his drink swirl.

   “To the gala? Like together? As dates?”    “We don’t have to,” he was quick to interject. Maybe too quick, for his own liking, the fear of saying how he felt acting for him. “We can go as friends though. And still, you’d be able to show what that punk is missing out on. Get glammed up, look like an absolute princess and make the idiot realise what has always been right in front of him.”    Y/N grasped his palm, squeezing the ex-Winter Soldier’s fingers. “I’d like that. Thank you, Buck.”    A tightlipped smile was what she got as an answer, but even the small gesture had set her heart stuttering. And Y/N had no idea why.

***

   He fidgeted with his cufflink, so unaccustomed to wearing fancy clothes. Bucky was more of sweats and a shirt or jeans and a leather jacket type of a guy, but there was a difference when Tony Stark threw a gala or a party where people got hammered.    Standing by Y/N’s door his nerves got the best of him. Yes, he had offered to make Steve jealous, but for him, this was an opportunity to spend more time with the gorgeous Avenger. Three years he had been in love with the girl. They had met a few days after he’d become an official part of the team. She was on a solo mission somewhere in Guam and when the blood, dirt and all sorts of grime covered woman entered the common room floor, cheers erupting all around making her widely grin, Bucky was done for it. Just like he was in the moment she opened her door.    He couldn’t help the fact his jaw hung open. Y/N looked absolutely stunning, the deep blue gown hugged her form and it looked like a sea in the storm with every step she took. The back had a deep plunge and there would be little possibility of him keeping things modest as the opening ended just above the curve of her spine.    “You look absolutely magnificent,” he breathed out as Y/N stood before him, a palm clutching her small handbag.    “And you look like you just stepped out of a Hugo Boss ad,” she replied with a smile letting her eyes roam over Bucky’s form, but most importantly his face for it was no longer concealed by the dark brown locks. Instead, he’d gotten a haircut, quite similar to that of what he had in the photos. From back in the day. Slicked back hair, jaw shaved and back straight- there was no doubt in the girl’s mind he’d been a ladies man.    The deep rumble in his chest was a complimentary sound to that of his wide grin.    “Shall we?” he extended Y/N his elbow in a true gentleman fashion and with a mock curtsy she linked her arm through his.    The gentle music could be heard even two floors above and it encased them like a blanket when the two Avengers stepped out of the elevator. The tower had been completely redone. Or at least it looked that way, the two giant chandeliers that hung from the ceiling casting a yellowish glow over everything, while usually, the place was darker, made perfect for their movie nights.    A loud whistle came from their side, the pair’s heads whipping in sync as they saw Nat, body covered in a gleaming emerald dress striding towards them.    “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my friend has been kidnapped and an impersonator has arrived in her place.”    Y/N went to jab her in the side, but missed, a small smile playing on her lips.    “You calling me ugly, Romanoff?”    “I’m calling you not a fan of attention yet here we are.”    That confused the girl, but her question was answered when Y/E/C eyes looked around the room, seeing everybody’s gaze settle on her. Some men’s were so predatory it made her squirm in place. Nat immediately noted how uncomfortable she felt, but the way Bucky’s jaw clenched told her, Y/N would be fine. There was no way in hell, he’d let her out of his sights.    “Made quite the entrance,” she purred in her ear before sauntering away and towards a smirking Tony.    “I need a drink,” Y/N mumbled, Bucky immediately having picked up on the words and leading them towards the bar. “Scratch that- I need like ten.”    “This is a fancy event, Y/N. You really want me to carry you upstairs?”    “Just leave me somewhere on the floor, no real need to do that,” she laughingly retorted as the bartender passed her the gin and tonic.    “No can do. If my best girl gets drunk you can be positive I’ll make sure she gets home safely. Don’t care if it’s two floors up, two blocks away or a two-hour drive.”    Bucky was grinning at the woman right until he realised what he had said.    “I’m your best girl, huh?” there was a smirk on her face, but underneath that, he saw a mix of emotions swirling. It was hard to decipher what exactly was going on in her mind, especially when he thought he saw a flash of happiness gleam through.    “I mean,” the man searched for words, but Y/N stopped his erratic heartbeat with just the touch of her palm on his. Literally, he felt his heart stop, blood freezing in his veins.    “It’s fine. It’s actually kinda… nice… makes me feel special.”    He wanted to reply with a definite ‘you are special’, but kept the words on the tip of his tongue not letting them slip past his lips. He’d already incriminated too much of himself.    “Come, let’s dance,” Bucky downed the rest of his drink and extended his hand for Y/N to grasp.    And she accepted right away. The night trailed on, but there was a moment, right when a more modern song had been put on and the metal-armed super soldier twirled her around, a wide grin splitting his face in half, Y/N found herself dumbfounded as not even for a second had she thought about Steve that evening. Yes, Bucky had said that originally they had gone as friends and she could use it as an opportunity to show his best friend what he was missing out on, but instead, Y/N was immensely enjoying the night by the brunet’s side, the laughter never ceasing. Until her eyes caught the glimpse of Dalia, snuggly sitting in Steve’s lap while his hands trailed up and down her sides. Bucky had gone off to get the pair something to quench their dry throats and Y/N took it as her opportunity to become invisible, slipping out onto the restricted section of the landing pad. Restricted to others, not the Avengers.    She looked at New York, the bright lights making the sky turn an orange hue, not a shimmering star peeking through. Y/N took a deep breath and exhaled, shoulders slumping forward as the girl leaned against the glass panel which allowed her not to fall.    “You disappeared,” Bucky’s low voice invaded the quiet of the balcony. Well, as quiet as you could get in New York. Y/N looked back at the man. He stood by the door aisle, arms crossed while his gaze simply trailed over her figure. It made her shiver and she had to break away from the intensity of his eyes.    “Just needed some air. It gets quite stuffy when there are hundreds of people around.”    Bucky scoffed but masked it as a chuckle. “And it had nothing to do with the fact Steve was being all lovey-dovey with Dalia?”    Y/N stuck her tongue out but it was a halfhearted attempt to hide her true reason for ditching the party. A silence settled over the pair, Bucky having walked over to the railing, leaning against it on his elbows, but he kept a little bit of a distance. After all, they had come as friends, even though he wished nothing more to warp the girl in his embrace any time he craved and to have her respond the same way.    “Am I a fool?” Y/N’s voice was soft as the words passed her lips.    “Why would you think that way?”    “For pining after somebody who clearly isn’t even remotely interested in me, hoping that maybe they’d notice even though it breaks my heart every time they don’t?”    Bucky wanted to laugh how perfectly her words described his own situation, but the way his heart clenched was a reminder, that he was also helplessly in love with a girl whose heart belonged to someone else.    “I think you can’t control your feelings,” with a sad look he flitted his gaze over at the girl who kept on peering into the night sky. “You didn’t mean to fall for him. I think you can choose your friends, you can choose your family, but the one thing that is out of everybody’s hands is who you love. That’s the hearts and only her decision.”    Y/N finally turned her head to face Bucky. “When did you become so wise?”    “Maybe I’ve always been that way.”    Their eyes locked, piercing blue with her sparkling Y/E/C ones. Unconsciously the pair had started to lean in, bodies moving on their own accord, two magnets having found their opposite. It was when their noses brushed against one another Y/N noted she was barely breathing and took a shuddering breath, yet still not fully snapping out of the trance.    A gentle palm, rugged but the touch utmost caring, cupped the girl’s cheek as Bucky searched for any sign that she didn’t want this, and when the super soldier found none, he softly pressed their lips together. Y/N melted against him, her fingers weaving through his hair pulling and tugging in places making him groan into her mouth. The response he got was an even harder kiss as she seemed eager to hear the sound again.    The cold winds whipped around them, but both felt hot like a forest fire was raging through their veins. Bucky’s grip on her hips was bruising, and she knew there would be marks left for her to find the next day, but somehow, Y/N cared about nothing but the feel of him against her body.    But the kiss was over almost as quickly as it came to be. The two completely and utterly shocked about what had happened. When Bucky opened his mouth to say something, a loud noise from behind startled the pair, their heads whipping around to see Tony.    “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is,” he pointed between the two, “but Y/N we need you on a mission. ASAP. Like right this second. There’s a jet ready and you have to go. Sorry.”    The look on the billionaire's face was serious, so with one last glance at the brunet soldier, the woman picked up the front of her gown and rushed off leaving Bucky cold and alone on the balcony.

***

   The morning after the gala, Bucky was in a weird mood. He’d kissed Y/N, he’d kissed the woman he’d been in love with for almost half a decade and she had reciprocated. The man’s knees had almost bucked when her fingers had woven through his hair, tugging in places, as if she needed to be closer to him. But then that stupid mission had come up, Stark having burst onto the scene a second after they had pulled away and made Y/N step onto a jet to who knows where.    Entering the kitchen blue orbs saw his best friend, yet the girl who was always by his side was nowhere to be seen.    “Where’s Dalia?” Bucky asked, not seeing the blonde by the counter as she usually shared her morning coffee with Steve.    The Captain deeply exhaled before replying. “We broke up.”    Bucky almost choked on the piece of bacon he had snatched from the pan. “What? Why?”    “Remember that gala, the one Tony threw two weeks ago?”    Bucky nodded, mind carefully selecting the emotions he was going to show. He hadn’t been able to talk to the girl how greatly the kiss had affected him, nor was he able to ask if what he had felt was real. If that had been the champagne in her system or was he delusional thinking that emotions were involved.    “She said I spent too much time eyeing Y/N. Threw a fit in the cab. Said I was obviously involved with someone else since I couldn’t keep my face together when I saw her. I'm a shit liar apparently.”    Blood rushed to Bucky’s head as the jealousy made him see red. But he pushed it down. This is what Y/N would want. He had suggested the idea, but now it might have worked and she could get what she wanted.    “Were you though?” he questioned further, scraping the eggs along the pan. “Paying more attention to Y/N than her?”    “I mean you can’t deny she looked stunning. No one had seen her so dressed up and I guess, inadvertently I did. She’s a beautiful girl, without a doubt, but that laugh… she reminded me so much of Peggy, so much of that confidence she exuded and the strength…”    The brunet hummed, mind reeling with the newfound information. He was desperate to talk to Y/N, but she was away on a mission. The girl was supposed to get back sometime that day, but every minute was almost agonising. Most importantly- she’d find out Steve was single and Bucky was afraid that the kiss they had shared had been his only chance. And he had blown it.

***

   Bucky was fidgety throughout the entire movie. And it was four hours long. When FRIDAY finally turned on the lights and people started to drag themselves to their respective rooms it was like he could take a breath. The fact that it was already past midnight and Y/N had not given a single message of her progress was nagging at Bucky, but the rest seemed calm, so he just sat tight and waited.    Also, having lost a bet to Sam who could make Steve more annoyed, he was stuck on dish-duty, but it was a good thing. His mind was able to worry about Y/N without any other distraction apart from the racing of his heart any thought of the woman induced.    The soft sound of the elevator hissing open took away Bucky’s attention. Looking over his shoulder he expected it to be Nat or even Sam, having forgotten something or just needing another cup of coffee, but instead, a tired looking Y/N exited.    His face visibly lit up as she stalked towards him, the duffle bag hitting the floor with an audible thud.    “Hey…” Bucky’s arms wrapped around Y/N’s body, the touch careful afraid she might have gotten hurt during the mission, but with how much strength she put in her own muscles, to tighten her grip around his neck, it seemed to him she was quite alright.    “Hi…” her reply was breathless, the feeling of safety and content weaving its way into her body. “Why are you still awake?” Y/N asked, concern making her forehead crease. “Did you have another nightmare?”    “No,” Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “We just finished movie night and I was left to do the dishes.”    “I thought it was Sam’s week.”    “Yeah, well… I lost a bet, so…”    Y/N snorted making her way to the kitchen and taking a glass, filling it up with water and chugging it in a span of three seconds.    “How was the mission?” Bucky asked, blue eyes looking at the girl, as she went over to the fridge and fumbled for some food. He saw her shrug in response.    “Fine. Took a bad hit while escaping, but nothing that Tony’s nanotech couldn’t fix on the way over. How are you?”    “I- I’m good. Was worried about you. When Stark sprung it on like that, it must’ve been a really tough one….” he trailed off. “I really th-“ but Bucky was cut off mid-sentence as FRIDAY’s female voice butted in.    “Your ship’s log has been processed and it turns out you haven’t slept in two days, Miss Y/L/N.”    Y/N bit her lip as to not snort at the motherly tone of the A.I. and at Bucky’s disappointed face.    “Bed, doll,” he said. “Now.”    With a roll of her eyes, the girl stood up from her stool and slung her duffle bag over her shoulder.    “Night, Buck.”    He let the blue gaze trail after her until Y/N’s form disappeared behind the corner.    “Night, doll."

***

   Even though Y/N was home safe and sound a different kind of worry ate at the super soldier. He had to be the one to break the news of Steves split. Yes, it was his best friend’s relationship, but the brunet was fairly certain that the girl would like to know from her co-conspirator. So when she hadn’t shown up for breakfast in the morning, nor lunch, nor dinner he decided to wake up his crush with a meal in bed the next day.    “Morning, doll,” Bucky mumbled pushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face after he had lightly tiptoed into her room and closed the door with an inaudible click.    A prominent groan escaped her throat and she opened one eye. “What time is it?”    “Seven.”    “Seven? Yeah, no, I don’t deal with single digit numbers, goodnight.”    “Love, you’ve been asleep for twenty-nine hours. You gotta eat something.”    “I’ll eat when I’m dead.”    A snort escaped the super soldier when he heard Y/N’s grumbled response, but none the less he persisted.    “Isn’t it ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’? Doll, come on. Breakfast’s ready.”    Finally, with a deeply dissatisfied look on her face and a groan, she turned around in her cocoon of blankets. Only her face was visible, nose sniffing the air as the sweet scent of pancakes and raspberry jam enter her nostrils, accompanied by the bitterness of freshly brewed coffee. Despite her efforts to look pissed at Bucky for waking her up, Y/N’s features softened and she gave him a small smile. And by the growling of her stomach, it seemed to agree with the hundred-year-old man.    His laughter was deep and seeped into Y/N’s bones as she untangled herself from the white bedsheets and sat up, comfort overtaking the room. Bucky took the tray he had set on her nightstand and placed in the girl’s lap.    “Okay, you and Steve might be super soldiers, but I’m not. I can’t eat this much.”    The man wiggled his brows in response as he revealed another fork hiding underneath the napkins. “Good thing I’m here then.”    Together they sat against the headboard of Y/N’s bed and ate. The clinking of utensils and hums of content were the only sounds in her room for a good while. She felt safe with Bucky, that was a prominent thing the girl noted. She felt like there was no need to pretend or hide what she truly thought. And he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.    Y/E/C orbs peeked at his face, while he concentrated on the taste of coffee. He’d brushed the hair away, this time without any products, longer strands still slipping into his eyes, yet the chiselled jaw was now covered in a stubble instead of being smoothly shaven. He looked gorgeous and Y/N’s heart suddenly started to thud a bit faster.    “Steve broke up with Dalia,” the words were uttered quietly, and in an instant, a tense silence settled over the two people.    “What? When?” that took the girl out of the moment.    Bucky sighed, intertwining his fingers, the metal rubbing across his other thumb. “Right after the party. Apparently, she didn’t like the fact he had been paying too much attention to you that night.”    It was out there, and he couldn’t take it back. The sound of a heart shattering is silent, but Bucky felt like his created the same amount of noise as an explosion would, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound in its wake. He was terrified to look away from his clasped hands, to see the happiness and glee written all over Y/N’s features when he was doomed to be alone for the rest of his life. Yet when he did glance upwards her shocked, but mostly blank face made Bucky frown.    “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he questioned, feeling his heart clench.    “I- yeah, but I- I never wanted to be the reason they broke up, not like this. But now...”    She looked to the side at Bucky, eyes immediately falling to his lips. The man’s breath hitched seeing it settle there.    “Now?”    “Now I don’t think I wanted them to break up at all,” she finally flitted her gaze back to his orbs, holding it for a few seconds, but Y/N couldn’t find the words so instead she leaned over, pulling their mouths together and straddling his lap. Instantly Bucky melted against her, arms securing her back and feeling bold he gripped her butt, giving it a squeeze. She moaned into his mouth before pulling away.        “Because of that.”    Blue eyes, wonder, disbelief and awe shining through them kept looking into Y/N’s Y/E/C ones.    “Please, tell me you really want this, that you want me,” Bucky’s voice cracked. “I couldn’t take it if your heart isn’t truly in it.”    Vigorously she shook her head, pressing their foreheads together, fingers weaving through the dark-haired man’s long lock.    “I- I don’t want Steve. I,” Y/N huffed searching for the right words. “I guess I always felt a certain way towards him because he was the first person to ever look at me like I belonged here. Like an equal. And I fixated onto that. I was scared that nobody else would see me, see that I had value. I don’t have amazing powers, just my brain, maybe a little brawl… that’s it…  But that night at the gala. I- you were the only one I could think of. Steve didn’t enter my mind once. I was so happy with you. And when you kissed me I couldn’t help but wish it was because you wanted to do that, not because you felt obliged to help me out with that ‘make him jealous’ thing.”    Y/N kept her gaze onto Bucky whose palms had settled onto her hips, her plain shirt having ridden up, allowing the man to trace invisible patterns with his thumbs onto the exposed skin.    “I’ve had some time to think about everything. Being away for the two weeks was actually a good thing because it made me reevaluate my life and what I want.”    “And what do you want?” Bucky asked, tightening his hold, afraid she’d slip out of his arms like smoke into the air. He didn't get the answer he expected but certainly wished for.    The kiss was filled with passion, frustration, feelings of inadequacy and most importantly love. As their lips moved together, a dance they slowly became experts in, Bucky had lifted her shirt over her head and settled his hands onto her hips, grinding up his crotch, to her core. A strangled moan made its way into his mouth and the man ate it up like it was a five-course meal, begging for more.    Bucky’s mind had been so preoccupied with the feel of Y/N’s hot skin moving against his, her laboured breathing and the delicious sounds her throat made, only now did he note the tightness in his pants that was becoming very uncomfortable. To get some sort of friction he rolled his hips again and Y/N detached her lips, throwing her head back in pleasure. Blue eyes watched in awe as the girl relished in the sensations overtaking her body.    “I love you, doll. Let me make you feel good,” he licked up a long stripe from the hollow of her neck to her ear. “Let me make you swim between the stars.”    Y/N let out a high-pitched whine and sighed his name, making his erection painfully twitch in its confinement. It wasn’t too gentlemanly of Bucky to groan in her ear and whisper profanities, but he just needed to feel her, needed to have her wrapped around him in every possible way, that the manners he’d possessed during the forties completely evaporated. Of course, if there was even a whisper of how she didn’t want to continue he’d stop on the spot, but her soft nips at his collarbone told him otherwise.    “You’re wearing too many clothes, Buck,” her words came out growl-like and the man couldn’t help the excitement that rushed through him.    “Then I guess you gotta remedy that.”    Y/E/C eyes narrowed in on him and she bit the corner of her lip. “Fine,” Y/N said right before her fingers grasped onto the collar of his shirt and ripped it clean down the middle.    “Fuck,” was the only word Bucky managed to rake his brains for, his already lust-blown pupils dilating so much there was no visible trace of the blue they usually sported. He left a trail of sloppy kisses down Y/N’s shoulder, over her collarbone and settled himself in the valley of her breasts while she desperately tried to rid him of the torn piece of fabric.    When his arms were finally free, completely able to envelop her in his touch, the cold metal sent a shiver up her spine while his hot skin soothed the unexpected sensation. Their kisses didn’t stop, mouths separating for a second to pull some oxygen into their lungs before resuming the breathless dance.    Bucky grasped onto her duvet and flung it out of the way, the soft cover making it harder for the man to follow Y/N as she made her way up the bed to lean against her plush pillows. Trembling arms pressed right next to her head, desperately trying to keep the man from crushing her, but it seemed like the wrong thing to do.    A harsh yank against the nape of his neck and Bucky was fully pressed to Y/N, her legs locking around the man’s hips.    “You keep doing that and well have an unfortunate situation here,” he warned when the girl ground up against him, her heat needing some friction, some sort of release.    “If I don’t keep doing that I’ll have an unfortunate situation where I have to finish things myself."    “Impatient are we?” Bucky mumbled before starting his assault on her breasts. He sucked and bit at the mounds, Y/N’s back arching up in pleasure while nimble fingers made quick work of her sleep shorts a palm slipping between her thighs.    “You are soaked,” they were words of admiration and pride- he’d gotten her to this point. It was his doing, how her body was writhing underneath his, searching for ecstasy. She let a guttural sound into the air as two long fingers rubbed around at her entrance before sliding in without any problems, her arousal making everything almost effortless.    Bucky set a slow pace, allowing Y/N to feel every push and pull, every curl of his fingertips and the flicks of his thumb against her clit. Her face was adorned by a blissful smile as she continuously whispered his name.    He worked her like that for quite a few minutes, before a sudden change in pace. With lips still attached to one of her nipples, Bucky pushed another finger into her. Y/N’s eyes sprung open before rolling to the back of her head, palms grasping at his hair which he took as a sign- the harsher the tug, the closer she was. But the soldier hadn’t found what he was looking for.    “Where is it,” he mainly muttered to himself, but the girl looked over at him, concern flashing over her features. She was just about to ask what was wrong when all the air was punched out of her, a wicked grin settling on Bucky’s face at her reaction.    “That’s the spot? Right there? Feels good, sweetheart?” Y/N’s only answer was a moan, the coil in her abdomen tightening and tightening until there was nothing left and she had to let go. Her nails dug deeply into his shoulders, some places breaking the skin, but Bucky was relentless, helping her through the orgasm and then some as her legs shook. Gentle palms soothed her outer thighs and he left a kiss everywhere a love bite sat on her chest before connecting their lips.    A hand settled on Bucky’s hip, tugging down his sweats and the boxers underneath.    “Insatiable woman,” he muttered into her mouth before dropping the annoying clothes on the ground, both people completely naked now. A groan of relief rolled off of the man’s tongue as his rock hard member was no longer constricted and instead it slapped against his abdomen.    “One word and we stop,” Y/N’s voice had a hint of innocence like she wasn’t the devil incarnate and Bucky had to slap her thigh in response. She pointed a finger at him, mouth pursed in a tight line    “Behave, you caveman,” but amusement shone through as he rolled his eyes and leaned down, pressing his forehead tightly to hers.    “Ready doll?” it was whispered with trembling lips as Bucky coated himself in her slick, the warm feel already too much to handle. He slid a few more times up and down, nudging his tip against her clit before lining up and entering Y/N. Never had he used as much strength in his life as Bucky did holding himself off from exploding.    She was tight, so unbelievably tight, squeezing and pulsing all around, the only thing he could see was white. Her voice brought him back, pleading for him to move, to do something as she desperately tried to move her hips.    A primal instinct kicked in as Bucky thrust down, completely bottoming out and going back up barely leaving his tip in before slamming again. Y/N was a mess underneath him and the ex-assassin was in love with the sight, with the breathless moans and needy whispers of his name, with the feel of how perfectly she fit around him, hugging every pulsing vein and ridge, but most importantly with her.    It didn’t take long to bring Y/N to the edge once more and Bucky was glad because there was no way he’d be able to keep things together for much longer.    “Cum, doll. Come on, I got you,” he murmured in the girl’s neck before leaning up and biting her earlobe, pulling the skin between his teeth. “You’re being so good to me. Come on, sweetheart.”    She was whimpering uncontrollably and with two more thrusts from Bucky, she shattered. It was everything and nothing all at once. Y/N’s fingers dug deep into his back, scratching, trying to find purchase all the while not feeling a thing. Her spine arched all the way up, their chests pressed together so tightly not an ant could crawl between them, sweat covered skin gleaming in the morning light.    Nothing but pleasure existed. Bucky had promised to make her swim between the stars, yet he had not expected to practically lose consciousness himself. With his mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut he emptied himself inside of the girl. It took every muscle, every ounce of brainpower he had left to not just drop dead on her, the super soldier ’s body completely and utterly wrecked.    Y/N spasmed under him, face hidden in the crook of his neck, trying to regain some sort of control and composure, but when Bucky weakly pulled out, collapsing by her side and instantly dragging her to his chest, she relented, drifting off to sleep in an instant. He chuckled, hearing the soft snores she’d been emitting only an hour ago, listening to her gentle breathing and feeling how his heart slowed down to match the beat of her.    He was hopelessly in love. And right before Y/N slipped under, body blissfully exhausted, the girl realised- so was she.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take): @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf

A/N: I’m so mad at Article 13!!!!! Like seriously- as a person living in the EU this is not copyright law- this is blatantly taking away creative freedom from people who base their work on already existing materials- fanart, fanfic, covers etc. It’s insane people actually think this will do good. Fuck all of those assholes who voted yes.

P.S. please tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged in future stories or have any requests, drop a message :)

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

[sazawen]

Metapost #2: NamJin in Outro : Tear.

Hi, everyone ! Today I’m back for a Namjin analysis ! I will discuss today about the Namjoon’s rap on the Outro : Tear Track of their new album Love Yourself : Tear ! (I hope everyone is streaming everysong of this amazing album !! :D) So let me present you how this post will present himself, because I have a lot to say about it so I HAD to make all of this some what organized !

I-   Analysis of Namjoon’s verses

         = Verse by verse analysis =

II-   Why Outro : Tear is connected to Seokjin ?

         = Seokjin references=

         = Connection with other songs =

Before, I continue there is some disclaimers that I would like to mention :

1-English isn’t my mother language I will do my best to be as clear and correct as possible but I can’t promise that my post will be perfect I may do some mistakes. (Sorry guys T^T)

2-This post DO NOT promote the Namjin ship above another one. I will never say that Namjin is the ultimate ship in BTS and that Namjoon or Jin can not be ship with other members. I am an OT7 before any other ship.

3- This post explain why I feel Outro :Tear (Namjoon’s verses at least) makes me think about Namjin. I could be totally wrong and maybe that Namjoon didn’t want us to interprate his rap like this. But in the end of the day everyone one percieve music differently so, if you don’t agree with my point of view there is no problem. No hate, netherless will be accepted.

4- This post will explain how I percieve Namjoon and Seokjin relationship but like all of us I don’t know them personnally and my judgement can be totally false. If you disagree with me feel free to give me your point of view, I will gladly discuss it with you.

5- It will be a long post.

I-   Analysis of Namjoon’s verses.

        = Verse by verse analysis =

Let’s dive into the verse by verse analysis ! It will be quite long, so I hope that I won’t lose you on this part and that every thing will be understandable !

What you need to know before reading the fellow metapost is how I percieve the Namjin relation ship. To make it short, we consider here that Namjoon and Seokjin know the love that they have for each other, but they are to afraid to begin a relation ship because it could cause harm to Bangtan. As a the eldest and the leader they will never put themself before BTS.

(This is how I percieve them before the Love Yourself Era because I truly think that things have changed but I will talk about it in another metapost ahahah!).

Now let’s go!

Goodbyes are, for me, a tear

Namjoon, state from the begining that saying goodbyes are one of the rare thing that makes him tear up. « Goodbyes are a tear ». This literally means that goodbyes are equal to sadness. We will here consider that the goodbyes wich he talks about is a reference to the love that he has for Jin but that he has to let go.

Namjoon can not be with Jin, no matter all the loves he has for him, because of the music industry in wich he is, because of the homophobia that surrounds him and because he his too intelligent to know that claiming to be in a relation ship with one your band member will likely cause harm for BTS.

Without even knowing, it blooms around my eyes

The words that I could not bring myself to say flow down

Namjoon paint a scene to make us understand that he had a conversation with Seokjin about the fact that they couldn’t be together. Because by being in the Kpop industry, in a country were homophobia is strong and for the sake of their career, for the sake of the group and for their own images they can not be together. Namjoon and Seokjin had a conversation on the subject keep that in mind.

« Whitout even knowing it, it blooms around my eyes » = Whitout realising that he his crying, tears comes to his eyes.

« The words that I could not bring myself to say flow down » = The arguments that he gaves to explain to Seokjin why they can’t be together, escape his mouth because they are logic arguments. But even if it’s logical he couldn’t bring himself to believe in them. In his heart he doesn’t really believe that they should stop loving each other.

Namjoon as the leader says to Jin « we can not be together » but Namjoon as a person says « I want to be with you ».

And lingering regret crawls over my face

Namjoon is hurt by what he is force to say because in the end of the day he truly loves Jin. He regrets his words, he doesn’t want to believe that his and Jin relation ship are in a dead end. Netherless, he still say this words, he knows that he has to state the fact that they can’t be together but in the end of the day his sadness is showing on his face (« regret crawls over my face ») but he can’t do anything about it.

Namjoon often question himself : « Where my role as the leader of BTS begins and where does it ends ? » - Namjoon in Burn the stage.

To me, you were once my dear

But now you’re merely a bitter beer

Namjoon explain that Seokjin was the one he was calling « Dear » but since he has do hide his true fellings all this love feels « bitter ». Futhermore the beer is an alchoolic brevage, it can give you at first a sensation of happiness (like in a hiden relationship) but then if you drink to much of it, it will just give you a hangover/ a bitter sadness (just like when Namjin realise that even if they love each other they could never be together).

My heart that’s stained with belated self-loathing

Everyone knows that Namjoon is the kind of personn that has a lot of self-hate and self-doubt. This sentence state what everybody knows so no need for me to dive to much into this verse.

Becomes empty even with the passing breeze

With the fact that Namjoon can’t have Seokjin like he wants too, his heart earlier full of « self-loathing » is now empty. Before loving Jin he was full of self-hate, then he learned to love Seokjin and so his heart was full of love. Nonetheless when he understood that he couldn’t love him the way he wanted to, his heart drained from this heartwhelming love. The only thing left is the emptiness. Even the cold breeze can not make his heart even colder that he already is.

Goodbyes that ended up being only lies

Once again Namjoon make a reference to the « goodbyes ». If we still stick to the theory where the « goodbye » is the love that he has for Seokjin but that he has to let it go, Namjoon confesses here that the conversation that he had with Seokjin was only a big fool lie. A goodbye that wasn’t really one because both of them still love each other. Their goodbye was only a fake reality arranged to please the industry in wich they are involving. They are fake to the ones they truly are, they aren’t true to themselfs and they know it.

(Doesn’t this remind you for the lyrics of Fake Love and Singularity ? (both written by Namjoon)).

At the end of my play, my price did not come

Here by « play » Namjoon refers to the act that he had to come up with (aka the conversation « break-up » that he had with Seokjin). The famous « goodbye » that Namjoon is talking about is constantly refered as a « lie » but also as a « play » an act that they put on to please the public.

By « my price did not come » Namjoon is here saying that his happiness never came. His price (Seokjin and all the positive things that he brings with him) never came to Namjoon. In the end, they acted, they played roles, they tell lies to protect themself and Bangtan, but also to please everyone around them but they never recieve any price (=happiness) in return of what they sacrifice.

They told their goodbye to each other hoping to make things for the better but in the end of the day, nothing gets better. They are not more happier, in fact they are sadder.

If someone said they would turn back the time for me

This is probably the most important part of the Joon’s verses. The one that had, really, made me think that this whole outro : tear was about the Namjin ship. In the theory of the Bangtan Universe who is known to change things by turning back in time ? Who sacrifice himself to change the « bad events » and make them good again ? Who makes a pact with the devil to be able to comeback in time ? Who meets Namjoon at the gas station ?

Yep.

Kim Seokjin.

Would I have been able to be a bit more honest?

Namjoon asks himself if things would have gone differently if he knew how unhappy he would become by playing this act. If Jin was really able to turn back in time, would Namjoon listen to his own feelings ? Would he be more honest with himself ? Would he lets his love for Jin lives as he was wishing for ? Or would he still lie to himself and put a mask on his face to become someone else ?

The bare face that only I know

Here the bare face can have multiple signification. It can be the bare face of Seokjin or the bare face of Namjoon. It could be the one without makeup or the one without all the lies.

In my opinion, Namjoon here refer to his own self. To his own feelings that he is the only one to know because even if he lies to the whole world he can not lie to himself. That’s why his « bare face » is only knows by him.

The ugly and pathetic old friends within me

Here again he is talking about his self doubt. The friends that aren’t really his friends and that destroy him little by little as he let them do it. The emptiness his heart is full with after the depart of Seokjin begins to be filled with his old demons.

Would you still be able to love me again like before

With that smile with which you used look at me

Isn’t this self explanatory ? He asks Jin if they will still be able to love each other again, the same way as before, even after everything that was said. Namjoon knows that the conversation he had with Seokjin made both of them really sad. This conversation where they came to the agreement that they couldn’t begin a relationship with each other, was not a happy conversation, at all.

Stop saying things like forever, forever

From this point you have to imagine that all this verse where actual words that they told each other in this famous conversation. They are no more metaphorical verses, they were words actually said to each other. Namjoon was probably angry at this moment. So let’s try to think like him at this particulary moment.

Namjoon began to slowly get worked up over this whole situation. The overall positivity of Seokjin makes him even more edgy. Seokjin tries to confort him by saying that it doesn’t matter if they can’t be in a relation ship together, because no matter what they will still love each other forever. Seokjin is a positive person but Namjoon can’t see the world as Seokjin sees it.

Namjoon doesn’t believe that they will be able to love each other forever if they accept the fact that they have to hide their relation ship. Because by hiding their true love they will eventually destroy each others.

=>Seokjin thinks that it’s better for everyone if they don’t get in a relation ship and hide it. Namjoon says this words but don’t actually believe in them. He knows that lies aren’t not make to be hide forever and that they only brings pain.

I can’t help myself but to think that maybe this sentence « stop saying things like forever, forever »   is actually a sentence that Namjoon told to Seokjin. I truly believe that if Jin and Joon had this conversation then it’s 99% sure that this sentence was brought up.

After all, the end originally exists

Here the logic side of Namjoon is talking again. There is an end to everything.

So how can Seokjin say things like « our love will last forever ? ». How can Seokjin believe that their love for each other will survive everything ? Things doesn’t work like that.

This is the way of thinking of Namjoon.

If there’s a start, I don’t wanna listen to that

Once again this verse can be understood in differents ways. The « start » could refer to :

x The start of a relation ship between RM and Jin : If they start a relationship with each other the Kpop industry will destroy them and they both know it.

x The start of the end of the love between them two : If they start a lie where they ignore their own feelings, their love for each other will slowly began to grow in frustation and could with time disapear.

In both case the answer is scary, that’s why Namjoon says « I don’t want to listen to that » he doesn’t want to have any answer, because no matter what they choose to be, their answers will bring them only pain.

Words that are too correct or too much consolation... I don’t wanna listen to that

(We are still reading the conversation that Seokjin and Namjoon had between them).

Jin is trying to console Namjoon and to make him understand that everything will be alright. He gives good argument, he consoles RM with all his will but Namjoon isn’t dumb.  He probably percieve the world in a much correct way than Seokjin, probably because he is way less optimistic than Jin on the subect. He is more rational in a certain way.

Even if Seokjin gives him good arguments (« words that are too correct ») or console him (« too much consolation”) he doesn’t want to listen to that. He doesn’t want to listen to any of those false hope, he doesn’t want to fool himself as thinking that everything will be alright when he knows that they will both suffer from this situation.

I was just so scared

We quit the section where RM retranscribes his conversation with Seokjin. We turn back to his own trought and dives back into his mind.

I don’t think there is any need for me to explain this verse.

Because it seemed like perhaps I had never loved you at all

So here is the heartbreaking part of the whole RM raps. If this was a fanfiction I would have had add #Angst until the end #deal with it.

Here Namjoon say that if they began to believe in their lies, if they continue to play and act like they are expected to do, they will slowly began to forget what they feel for each other. If they continue to act like they don’t love each other, it will seems to everyones eyes that Namjoon never loved Jin at all when in fact he was in love with him since the begining.

He was scared that perhaps, it will seems that he had never loved Seokjin at all, when he had done so much for him.

Although it was late, that you were true,

That only you loved me more

I have to say that this last verse is the hardest one to understand for me… The translation when it concern this verse are quite different from sites to sites so I will try my best to express how I understand it.

The first « You » is here refering to the love that Namjoon has for Seokjin. The Love that they had for each other even if it did come « late » (Namjoon say that he didn’t fall right in love with Seokjin since their debut but that he had slowly began to grow in love for him). He his saying that his loves for him is true.

=>Here he goes against all the lies that he previously talk about, by saying that the truth is that the love he has for Seokjin is true.

[Chorus: RM]

You’re my tear

You’re my you’re my tear

You’re my tear

You’re my you’re my tear

You’re my tear

You’re my you’re my tear

What more can I say?

You’re my tear

RM repeating endlessly that Seokjin reprensent his tear, his sadness. (And don’t we have the proof of it just by the gif I have put higher?)

vII-   Why Outro : Tear is connected to Seokjin ?

         = Seokjin references=

Sooo now you could ask me : but how does this song is connected to Seokjin ? Why do you think it’s a Namjin song ? Aren’t you being a little bit delulu on this ?

I would only answer you, than in the end of the day, nobody really knows the real meaning of the songs exept for Namjoon himself. In my opinion this song, and like this whole album, could be : love between two people or love to yourself. That’s also exactly the words of Namjoon « It could be love between a person and a person or love between me and myself ». If you look at most of the songs in the album you will probably see that in fact each son gis a complex mix of both statement. It’s a reflexion between the love you give to another person and the love you give to yourself.

If we accept the fact, that Outro : Tear is at the same time a love song AND a love of self-esteem we can now, ask ourself of who Namjoon is talking in his song ? It could apply to any other BTS member so, why did I think of Seokjin when I heard this song and not of any other member ?

There is some hints that made thinks that way, so let me present them to you :

    x The Lyrics

« If someone said they would turn back the time for me (…) » As previously stated this is a direct correlation to the character of Jin in the BTS Universe. Seokjin is the one turning back in time. It’s the most direct hint that Namjoon gave us.

« Stop saying things like forever, forever (…) » This is also a reference to a previous song and to lyrics that Jin has sing in DNA. Yes, it’s the song and MV where Jin use his power to turn back in time to save his friends. His exact words in the song are : « Don’t regret it baby, Because we're forever, Forever (…) »

    x Interviews

For the song « Outro : Her » Namjoon had a very interesting answer that I will copy/paste just here :

« After talking with you [about Outro : Her], it feels like it recaps the whole album and it is really introspective. » - Journalist

I think that was the fastest work I did for this album. I wrote the verse in 20 minutes; it just came, very truthfully, from the bottom of my heart. I thought it was the right outro for this album [Love Yourself : Her] because it is really a range of emotions -- I'm saying I met this person that I really love, this person is the love of my life right now, I'm saying that I was confused and I was looking for love and this world is complex. But I think it's you so, "I call you 'her,' 'cause you're my tear." "I think you're the start and the end of me." That's what I'm saying: You're my wonder, but you're also my answers. You're my "her," but you're still the "tear."  » – Kim Namjoon.

Okay so guys, the answer to this question is a direct correlation to Outro : Tear and to Jin ? Please tell me that I’m not the only one to see it ! xD

« I met this person that I really love, this person is the love of my life right now » : Namjoon could litteraly be talking about anyone here. But it’s such a powerful answer that I had to put your attention on it.

« I call you 'her,' 'cause you're my tear. » : This are the lyrics of Outro : Her and again, Joon could be talking about anyone here. But at least we can see the direct correlation to Outro : Tear. And also by saying « I call you her » doesn’t mean that he is talking to a girl, he just use « her » to designated the person he loves.

« I think you're the start and the end of me. » : Another direct correlation to the Outro : Tear’s lyrics (« After all, the end originally exists, If there’s a start, I don’t wanna listen to that »).

« You're also my answers » : This is a direct correlation to Seokjin and if you don’t believe me look at this picture below. Answer is link to Seokjin just as much as Jungkook is link to Euphoria, Jimin to Serendipity and V to Singularity.

         = Connection with other songs =

Love Maze :

There is so much Namjin content in the song ? So I won’t be able to analyse them all, since this post is already mega long but I will take the most relatives one, and the one connecting with Outro : Tear.

« Let them be them, Let us be us, Love is a maze damn, But you is amaze yeah (…) » - RM

Maybe I am the onlyone but this makes me think a lot of the LGBTQ+ community… As a bisexual person, when I was in doubt of my sexuality and in family full of homphobia I had this conversation with a girl and she told me « Let them be what they want to be, and be what you want to be, love is complex but not it the way they think ». That why I indentify a lot this sentence with LGBT. Again this is a complete personnal opinion.

« Take my hand don’t let go, Lie in this maze, My never lose me, In the love maze » -Jin

I don’t really now what to say or explain for this verse ? It doesn’t really need explanation I think ? Lie makes again a reference to Outro : Tear where Namjoon and Jin have to put a mask and lie about their true feelings. Namjoon in Outro : Tear is afraid of losing Jin, he is afraid of not loving him anymore and here Jin asks him to not lose him in the love maze… Everything is connected ? XD

The truth Untold :

« And I know, All of your warmth is real, I want to hold, Your hand picking the blue flower (…) » -Jin

Jin here say to Namjoon that he knows that his warmth (aka his love) is real, that it is true.

=>Direct reference to the Namjoon verse in Outro : TEAR where RM state that he is afraid that his love will be percieve as indifference : « Because it seemed like perhaps I had never loved you at all. »

Then Jin says that he wants to hold Namjoon’s hand that is picking the blue flower. Here the blue flower is the Smeraldo flower wich is blue. This flower was often associated with Jin through the MVs and her symbolism represent an « Untold truth ». Jin wants to hold the hand of Namjoon when he is holding this flower in his other hand. Meaning that Jin is willing to be in a relation ship with Namjoon even if it’s a « Untold truth » even if nobody knows.

« Bloomed in a garden of loneliness, A flower that resembles you, I wanted to give it to you, After I take off this foolish mask (…) » - Jin

Here Jin is in a different time laps than before. Where in his previous line he was with Namjoon in this garden, holding his hands and watching this blue flower he is now all alone. In this time laps, Namjoon and Seokjin have choosen not to be in a relation ship with each other. To not take any risk and to act like they didn’t love each other head over heels.

« Garden of loneliness » refer to the fact that they are not together. They do not hold hands, they have choosen to be alone rather thant together.  

« Bloomed (…) a flower that ressembles you » refer to the Smeraldo flower. The Untold truth. Jin wants to give it to Namjoon because their love is the truth that can never be told.

« After I take off this foolish mask » But before give the flower that represent his love to Namjoon he has to stop playing, stop acting. He has to be true to himself and stop with the false lie. He has to admit that he loves Namjoons.

=>Direct reference to the Namjoon verse in Outro : TEAR where RM state « Goodbyes that ended up being only lies. »

« Maybe back then, A little, Just this much, If I had the courage to stand before you, Would everything be different now ? » -Jin

Jin ask to himself or to Namjoon if things would have been different if he had taken the courage to not put this mask. To be proud of his relationship with RM rather than hide it. Would things had been different if had stayed by Namjoon sides rather than put a wall between them ? Would things be different if they were in a true relation ship rather than a lie ?

=>Direct reference to the Namjoon verse in Outro : TEAR where RM state : « If someone said they would turn back the time for me, Would I have been able to be a bit more honest? »

[lozzatnt]

picking myself up

it's been a rough few months. I've been making the effort to dig deeper into my personal issues, to try to improve myself and lead a happier life. but the path to that is not an easy one.

I lived much of my life thinking I was a fairly normal person. I have always felt a bit quirky, but I didn't feel like it went any deeper than that.

But looking back, I never fit in very well anywhere. I was a risk taker, I very much had a punk vibe going, in my appearance and attitude. I never remember having a best friend, nor felt very close to the people I acquainted with. maybe I kept everyone at a distance unconsciously, or maybe I just never hand anything attractive to offer

skip forward to the past few years, and things have really reached breaking point.

for what ever reason, my self esteem has always been low, to say the least. At the age of 25, I am paranoid about what everybody thinks about me. when I walk down the street, I'm convinced that passers-by are looking down on me. they think I'm ugly, weird looking, or seem like a terrible person. I didn't realise until maybe 2 years ago, that not everyone thinks like this. coming to the realisation that this isn't normal, and is incredibly damaging, has been a hard pill to swallow. I am at the stage where I am acutely aware of my distorted thoughts like this, yet I am struggling to alter my thinking into a more normal, and relaxed way. These things take time and effort, and I hope to improve on this in the coming years. I suppose the acknowledgement of how distorted this thinking is, is the first step.

There are good days, when I couldn't care less about what others think. or where someone smiles back at me, and I feel the world isn't so bad. but there are also bad days, where without any cue, I feel crushed by the assumed opinions of others. it's scary to think that I could feel this my whole life, but I am determined to improve now I can see the issues more clearly.

I also struggle a lot with being away from my boyfriend. every time we have a night away from each other, I cannot help but feel empty and low. my only approach to deal with this, is to stay busy. but even when I go to the gym, for example, I feel an underlying emptiness which I cannot hide from. It makes me feel so dependant and needy, which as a person, I just don't feel like I am. I am quite independent and have always pushed myself to go and get whatever I desire, by myself. Yet this trait of mine makes me feel pathetic, when the time comes that I am alone. This is really something that I need professional help with.

My behaviour has always been avoidant, since I can remember. I actively avoid communicating with others, both those I know, and those that I don't. I avoid attracting any attention to myself, as I cannot stand it. I put myself under so much distress avoiding random communication with others, yet when it happens, I normally feel ok afterwards - it's just the anticipation of it. Part of this, I believe stems from the auditory processing issues that I have identified over the past few years.

At first, I was convinced that I was going deaf, which for a sound engineer, wasn't totally surprising, by the age of 25. yet I acutely realised that I could hear music with exceptional clarity and skill in my work. I could hear frequencies that others may not. The issue was never the ability to hear - but the ability to process words. When people speak to me, my brain takes longer to work out what the other person has said to me. I can feel a delay in comprehending what is being said. I have lost count of the amount of times that I have asked the other person to repeat themselves, only for my brain to work out what they originally said at the exact moment I request for them to repeat what they said. I DID hear it. It just took me longer to work it out. This problem has definitely caused me to avoid talking to people, to avoid the embarrassment of my brain not working. Yet there's still an underlying feeling of just wanting to be in my own world, away from all these strangers.

I have always been an extreme perfectionist, which I always saw as a personality trait, not a disorder. in everything I do, I have to be perfect. or work furiously until I am. I like food cooked in such a specific way - so much that I feel I have to watch my other half cook, when he occasionally does. I like to wash up myself as everything has to be sparklingly clean. I hate people driving me around as I want to be in control. I hate it when I go on holiday, as I feel that whoever does my work for me, will not execute it in the way I like. I spend far longer than others doing tasks as everything has to be perfect. but I keep this all to myself, which has bottled itself up over the years.

I feel like I am exploding with everything I keep to myself. like a volcano about to erupt.

It would be easy to say, well, you need to get some help. but it feels impossible to do that. It would be simple for some people to go to their GP and explain this, but I feel like there is far too much to explain; a whole life time of pain to put across. it seems like an impossible task. My perfectionist traits come out yet again - I feel like I have to say the perfect thing to the doctor for them to believe me. I can't deal with the thought of my pain being dismissed. This is why I feel like the only way to get help, is to reach the point where there is no other option. I feel like I am at that point often - I wonder if I had something to show for my pain, that I may actually get some help. yet I don't want to disappoint those around me by going there.

I am sure that I would greatly benefit from being medicated and having therapy, yet I hear from everyone that the waiting list for these things is years long. I cannot wait years. I have now resorted to saving up for private treatment, as I just cannot see how being put on a years long waiting list could make me better. This is where I am at now. I feel failed by our health service, yet I don't even have the courage to ask for help on the most basic level. it seems inconceivable.

in the mean time, without wanting to sound dramatic, I have been picking myself up, piece by piece.

working out has been a huge win for me. I have something to strive for - I want to be stronger, more toned. something which is visually measurable. my work has never been something which I felt proud of, despite my achievements. yet within three months of strength training, I feel like I finally achieved something. more than I have in the past few years. this in itself is simply wrong - I have done well in my career and gone further than I ever imagined. but lifting is so measurable and quantifiable, unlike anything else I have experienced.

I have been making my way through some therapy workbooks too, for improving my mental health. I have found some new strategies to offset my struggles and I am looking forward to improving all the time, and being more accepting of myself.

when I am busy, I feel absolutely fine, but rather than fill my time with being busy, I want to be able to relax and feel ok about that too. but small steps!

I cannot wait to get help. I am bursting at the seams, waiting for the right moment. but when it comes, I hope to emerge as the excited and optimistic person I remember all those years ago.

[garywonghc]

Global Environment from a Buddhist Perspective

by His Holiness the Sakya Trizin

Life is precious. Life is what is most precious to each one of us. We always worry about losing this life; we worry about anything that might happen to us that could take it away. We make every effort to keep it safe. Just like us, every single being sees life as what is most precious and does everything possible to protect it.

What’s more, we and all other beings wish our lives to last a long, long time. If we are to be granted a long life, then we need to establish the conditions that will make this possible. We first need to realise that everything is interconnected and that the way we treat our environment will affect how long we live. It’s very important that we think about this.

Buddhist teachings, especially Mahayana teachings, say that we are made up of body and mind. The body is easy to describe. We know where it came from, how it was formed and how it developed. The body is something visible. We can describe its size, colour, shape, aspect, and so on. When we leave this world, our body will be disposed of in one way or another. But the mind is something quite different. Neither can we see it with our eyes, nor can we touch it with our hands, nor can we describe its size, colour or shape. Yet mind is more powerful than anything else. Without the mind, our body is no more than a corpse. It’s the mind that does everything.

Everything works with the mind. It’s the mind that does all good things and it’s the mind that does all bad things. It’s the mind that experiences happiness and it’s the mind that experiences suffering. So the mind is the most important thing.

Where does the mind come from? How is it formed? According to the teachings, mind has no beginning as such – and so we refer to beginningless time. We cannot say that someone’s mind begins at any particular time. Mind is intangible, indescribable and continuous. It has its own kind of continuity. From this, one can establish that there was life before our present life. The body from that previous life was disposed of. But the consciousness of its mind continues in our present body. Our mind is currently residing in our body, and when we leave this world, our body will again be disposed of, but there will be no way in which our mind can be disposed of. Because it’s intangible, we won’t be able to cremate it or bury it. Because it’s intangible, we can’t make it disappear. And so this powerful mind again continues and enters into another life.

And this happens over and over again. We are all familiar with what we call the ‘Wheel of Life’. The ‘Wheel of Life’ means that the wheel turns once, and then again, and again. It has no beginning and it never ceases. It is the same with life. Life has no beginning as such, it just goes on and on. And so we have been born innumerable times since beginningless time until now. And we will continue to do so again and again until we attain liberation, or enlightenment.

Life is ceaseless. Furthermore, there is not one single place where one hasn’t been born. Everything keeps changing. Wherever the winds of our karma take us, that is where we’ll be. We have no choice. There nowhere in the universe where we haven’t been born. Even more, there is not one single sentient being who has not been our parent, our friend, our partner, our child, and so on. But due to the change of life, we don’t recognise each other. And we see some beings as our friends, some as our enemies, and some we see with indifference. In reality, every single being is our very dear one, but we can’t recognise each other. Even our most hated enemies are also our very dear ones, although we can’t recognise them as such.

And so therefore, life is not only precious to us, but it is precious to every living being, from the tiniest insect to the highest god. Every life is precious. This is the most important thing that we must realise. Life is what is most precious not only to ourselves, but also to every single other being. And so, when we experience our own feelings, we can remember how every individual also has the same kind of feelings.

We have to always remember how precious life is and how we need to protect its many forms. In order to protect life, we also need to protect the environment that harbours it. No one can live in a place where there is no water, where there are no trees, and so on. Our lives are completely dependent on our environment.

We might say that Lord Buddha was the founder of environmentalism. His Vinaya – the code of behaviour that the Buddha instituted for monks and nuns – stipulates that “You cannot cut trees; you cannot cut leaves; you cannot cut flowers; you cannot disturb the forest; you cannot foul the river; you cannot foul the grass.” Already in His time, the Buddha had instructed His Sangha to observe the same rules that are nowadays set down by environmentalists.

The Buddha also said that every living being has at one time been our parent, and that we must repay the love and kindness that we have received from them. Even our worst enemies, people who cause us harm and create obstacles for us, even they are our very own dear ones. Because we didn’t recognise them as such during our many lifetimes and didn’t pay back their kindness but rather treated them with anger, now they appear to us as enemies. According to Buddhist teachings, love and compassion are described as infinite. They make no exceptions. We must love everyone, near ones, far ones, beings we know, beings we don’t know, dear ones and hated ones. We should feel equal love and compassion toward every sentient being.

Today, our world is experiencing serious environmental problems. I have many friends who are very worried about the environment. They say that eventually the earth will become like a desert; there will be no water, no trees, no rain. Pollution will be so severe that it will even be difficult to breathe, and people will have to carry oxygen bottles around with them. Many people worry about this. And so we need to think about the future, about the beings who will inherit our earth, our children, our grandchildren, and everyone else. We have to think about the problems that they will face. We need to ensure that the earth will be a suitable place for them to inhabit.

Buddhist teachings have much to offer in making the world a better place. Their reach somehow goes beyond human effort, however worthy the latter may be. They go deeper, and they are all-inclusive. They include everything. Buddhist practitioners mainly devote their time and energy to inner practice, like meditation and rituals and so on, and so outwardly they don’t seem to be performing useful activities. Although in comparison to environmentalists, who are very active in trying to save our earth, practitioners don’t seem to be doing much, their influence reaches deeper and wider.

Environmentalists are to be highly lauded for all the work that they do to help. Their accomplishments are vast. And yet, they are not all-embracing in their philosophy. If we take as an example the case of wild animals in India, which is a great source of worry. It is said that India used to have some 40,000 tigers, but their numbers have drastically dropped. There are now only 14,000. Tigers are very beautiful and powerful, and so everyone wants to protect them. There is much worry about endangered species. Like the tigers, other species of animals are protected by environmentalists. For example, the deer in India have become rare and no one is allowed to shoot them. Whoever shoots one is severely punished. This kind of initiative is very beneficial and deserves everyone’s support.

But on the other hand, it is not only rare and beautiful animals that should be protected. Life is for everybody. But there are no environmentalists who say that we should protect mosquitoes. This is because mosquitoes are ugly, because they are noisy and annoying, and because they bite us and not only cause us pain but also carry disease, such as malaria. Therefore many people think that mosquitoes should be destroyed. But mosquitoes are also living beings. All forms of life are precious. Some animals are precious to humans, either because they are beautiful or because they’re useful. People love birds because they’re beautiful to look at and they sing lovely songs. And so they must be protected. But mosquitoes are noisy and they annoy us; we worry about them breeding in ponds because they carry disease, and so no one talks about protecting them.

Buddhist teachings take a very different stand. They say that every living being needs to be protected, whether they are beneficial or harmful to us, whether they are beautiful or ugly, rare or abundant. In India, it is allowed to shoot certain wild animals because there are many of them. From a Buddhist perspective, this is not correct. In practical terms, non-Buddhists won’t agree with us, but as we are looking at the environment from a Buddhist point of view, this is an important point to make.

The main thing, though, is to realise how precious life is. It’s precious to us, but it’s also precious to mosquitoes. Their own lives are very precious to them. But a mosquito’s life is short. Its life is short, just a few days, and even then many don’t manage to survive their natural lifespan. Whenever people see a mosquito, their reaction is to kill it. People don’t feel compassion toward mosquitoes and don’t realise how important their lives are to them.

So here lies the difference. The Buddhist idea of love and compassion, that all beings should be protected, goes deeper and wider than ordinary considerations. And yet, practitioners don’t actively go out and help beings. They meditate and recite prayers such as: “May all sentient beings be happy and be with the causes of happiness”. But when they come near animals that are suffering, they don’t necessarily help them. On the other hand, whereas animal lovers and environmentalists may not meditate or say prayers, they do step in and help animals that are hungry or sick, or in any kind of pain.

The ideal thing would be to combine these two attitudes, the Buddhist practice of compassion and the environmentalist one. This would be enormously beneficial to our world.

Right from the beginning, the Buddha Himself taught that life is precious. According to the Buddha’s law, monks are not allowed to chop trees, pluck flowers or cut grass. Actually, the Buddha was a precursor of the environmentalists. Buddhism teaches us that we should make this world beautiful, free and clean, not only for human beings but for every living being that inhabits it.

There is a story that tells of a bald monk who was sitting in meditation under a banana tree. At some point, a large leaf fell on his head and interrupted his concentration. He became very angry and crushed the leaf into pieces, thinking “Why did the Buddha make such strange rules that we can’t pluck flowers or leaves?” And he even became angry with the Buddha.

As a result of this, he was reborn in his next life as a naga, with a huge tree growing from his head. This seems strange, but there are such beings that we can see for ourselves, for instance corals. Corals look like plants, like small trees, but they are actually animals. And so this tree was growing on his head and digging its root inside it, which was very painful.

One day, the Buddha was travelling with a king, and they came across this unfortunate being. The king asked the Buddha why this person had a tree growing out of his head and seemed to be in such pain, and the Buddha explained how in his previous life he had been one of the Buddha’s monks and had disrespected the Buddha’s rules, causing him to be reborn afflicted in this manner. In a way, this story illustrates the concern that the Buddha had for all forms of life, including trees, grass and flowers.

And so it seems to me that modern environmentalists could learn something from the Buddha’s teachings, especially the rules of the Vinaya. By incorporating these to their own philosophy, environmentalists might enrich the latter and make its scope deeper and broader. It’s impossible, of course, to protect everything and everyone. But we do as much as we can. And the work of protecting the environment cannot be left to just a few people or organisations. It’s everyone’s responsibility. It’s very important that everyone becomes aware of its importance and realises how things might turn out to be on our earth if we don’t take care of it.

It is impossible to fix everyone’s problems, everywhere. But if many people make an effort, then certainly this will make a considerable difference. And so, whatever we do, it is important to fully appreciate that life is precious and that we must all do something to preserve it and to make it fruitful and long-lasting. We need to this for our own benefit but, even more, for the sake of future generations.

Already, things are changing a great deal. Many of my friends from Tibet tell me how the climate there is changing dramatically, especially the snow mountains; they are melting, some at a very rapid pace. Not only the mountains, but also the rivers, forests and the earth itself are affected by pollution, deforestation and mining.

We Tibetans believe that it’s not only the visible aspect of nature that is affected. There is also an invisible dimension to it that we are not always aware of. In Tibet, every mountain has its own local deity that resides in it. According to our ancient beliefs, these deities are also affected by these changes, and this makes them unhappy, which leads to the occurrence of natural disasters. Due to people’s greed, chemical refuse is thrown into rivers, forests are decimated and the ground is carved to extract valuable minerals. All these aspects of nature are home to deities, and when they are violated in this way, so are its resident deities. Many people don’t believe in gods, local deities and other invisible beings. But I believe that they do exist and make a substantial difference to how things are.

These visible and invisible aspects of nature are intrinsically linked to each other, and as a result of their being affected, many disasters arise, such as floods, earthquakes, tsunamis and hurricanes. And so, in order to remedy this state of affairs, I believe that we need to adopt a two-pronged approach.

Not only do we need to follow the directives of environmentalists on how to physically take care of our world, but we need to perform protective and rejuvenating rituals such as bathing rituals, incense offerings, treasure vase burying rituals, and so on. I truly believe that these rituals have a concrete effect on things.

Japan and Taiwan, for instance, lie on an earthquake zone. They are often afflicted by earthquakes and typhoons, sometimes very severe ones. Lately, many of the Taiwanese Buddhist masters have begun performing offering, fire, bathing and treasure-vase burying rituals, and I’m told that since then the natural disasters have been less frequent and less devastating.

Not everybody believes in this sort of thing, but I think that by trying from every angle, everybody in their own way, things will definitely improve. It seems to me that it’s very important that everyone play a part in taking care of our earth, and not only a few individuals or organisations. It’s everyone’s responsibility. We are all part of the human race and we have to think of its future, of the human beings that will follow us. If we don’t act now, they will have to live in a sort of hungry ghost land, which would be very sad.

And so it’s important that we endeavour with all our strength to make things better, and for this, we first need to deeply realise how precious life is, how important it is to make this life healthier for all, happier and longer, and how crucial it is that we create a sustainable environment.

It would be equally important to incorporate the teachings of the Buddha in this effort. The Buddha possesses omniscient wisdom. His wisdom is infinite. He sees the past, present and future as we see the palms of our own hands. He sees every effect to every cause and every cause to every effect. And so His teachings are authentic and wondrous, and they lead us to work for the benefit of beings, the world and the environment.

[tonystarktogo]

Listen, Harry Potter AU. Like third year or fourth with Tony and Bucky? Something happens and they meet and they get together? Up to you what houses, though Tony could easily be Ravenclaw, or slytherin, and Bucky could be Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor? Thanks!

Here’s the thing: I have been waiting my entire life for this AU!! (I’m exaggerating. Mostly because I’ve been in the HP fandom a lot longer than in the MCU…) Also I can picture almost every character, and especially Tony, in EVERY house which makes this choice very difficult. Full discloser, I’m going with tiny Slytherin!Tony and bulky Hufflepuff!Bucky purely for my own amusement. Please enjoy!

Also tagging @briefpaperexpert because we were talking about HP/MCU Xovers not too long ago. Not what I had in mind back then, but still :)

Warning: Bullying. Inter-house-animosities. Howard’s A+ Parenting.

The problem with Tony–well, one of the problems with Tony, if you asked Howard, which you really shouldn’t do–isn’t that he’s a Slytherin, it’s that he is tiny.

Actually, because we all know you’ll ask Howard anyways, being a Slytherin is also a problem. As far as that man’s concerned, nobody who isn’t a proud Ravenclaw is ever going to accomplish anything in his life. Unless you’re a reckless Gryffindor named Steve Rogers, then you can do no wrong. Which is not cool at all. Seriously, the guy has vanished one Dark Lord, it’s not like he’s Merlin’s secret heir or something. Everyone really needs to chill out.

But the point is, you can’t be a tiny Slytherin with fluffy hair you aren’t allowed to cut–lest your beloved mother gives you the Eyes of Disappointment–and a serious case of social awkwardness in a post Dark Lord world. It’s like getting a ‘Bully me please, I’m too small to hit back’ stamp on your forehead. That he’s a year younger than everyone else probably doesn’t help his case either.

Not fun. Not fun at all.

Tony is a Stark though, he’s not going to let a couple of petty children drag him down. At least that has been Howard’s advice on the situation–if you can call it advice at all. It’s definitely not helpful advice, though Tony knows better than to point that out.

He also knows better than to complain about his transfiguration essay being ripped to pieces by that asshole Rumlow, who thinks anyone not Gryffindor is scum he’s allowed and supposed to spit on as often as possible. That doesn’t stop him from opening his big mouth, because Tony’s never been good at taking things while lying down. Unless he’s been stunned beforehand. Which has happened alarmingly often.

By the time he makes it into class, he’s five minutes late, has no homework to show for and no explanation to give either. (Like everybody doesn’t know what’s going on, but does that stop his fellow Slytherins from blaming him for the 10 points Professor Hill docks him? Of course it doesn’t. Common sense isn’t as common as you’d think around here, Tony thinks bitterly, even as he accepts his detention without complaint.)

Detention isn’t so bad anyways. Keeps him occupied at least, considering that most of the homework is a joke–genius here, and hopefully the only thing he’s inherited from his father–and he doesn’t have a lot of friends to spend his free time with. If you can count the scary librarian Miss Potts a friend, that is.

Tony kind of likes detention actually. Sharing a dorm with four other guys–who’s only common interest seems to be their dislike of the ‘Stark kid’–means that cleaning the trophy room at night is a rare opportunity for some quiet, far away from other people. 

Only when Tony gets to the trophy at 8pm sharp–his mother has never tolerated tardiness–he isn’t alone. And he’s not- he’s not easily scared, alright, but the guy standing besides Professor Hill is a head taller than him and anything can happen once they’re left alone and Tony’s just tired, wasn’t prepared for this, can feel his heart racing painfully fast.

He barely hears a word of Professor Hill’s usual speech, has been on the receiving end often enough to be able to recite it by heart anyways, too busy staring at the Hufflepuff student with the bruise on his cheek and the stubborn glare. He’s clearly not happy to be here and Tony has a hard time to keep the sudden wave of dizzying panic at bay.

Things don’t tend to end well for him, when the people around him are upset.

When Professor Hill leaves them to it and the Hufflepuff finally–already–turns his attention to Tony, he’s confident he blacks out for a second.

“-you want?” the Hufflepuff–alright, fine, Bucky Barnes, let’s not pretend Tony doesn’t know exactly who he’s dealing with here–asks.

It takes Tony’s brain a couple of seconds to catch up and realise he’s supposed to answer.

“What?” he blurts, a little confused and a lot worried.

“Which side do you want?” Barnes repeats, a furrow between his eyebrows.

“Uh, left?” Tony points hesitantly.

Barnes stares. “That’s right.”

“I knew that!”

Merlin, this is mortifying. Barnes is chuckling now at least, which is good, probably. Better than anger at least.

They get to work then, Tony on the left–the right one this time–and Barnes on the right side of the room. It’s quiet for a bit, and Tony easily slips into the routine of the movements, lets his mind wander while he polishes trophy after trophy.

Barnes breaks the comfortable silence eventually, and not with a push or a shove like Tony’s half expecting him to, but with a simple question. In retrospect, he should have seen it for the trap it was.

“What did you do to get detention anyways?” Barnes asks.

And because Tony is an inexcusable idiot, is distracted and not really thinking about it, he is honest. He really needs to learn to work on that, he’s a Slytherin for Merlin’s sake! Where’s the fakeness and the amazing lying skills he’s been promised?

“I lost my essay to Rumlow’s pathetic desire to feel better about his sad little life by ruining mine.”

It’s only after the words are already out that Tony’s mind catches up with his mouth and he freezes. Shit. This was definitely not what he is supposed to say. Despite the different houses Rumlow and Barnes are in the same social circle–that circle being the all-amazing Steve Rogers’ fan club–and this can only end ugly.

Slowly Tony pirouettes on his heels until he’s facing Barnes who’s staring at him with a strange expression on his face.

“What are you talking about?”

Well, in for a sickle, in  for a galleon and all that. “He thought it would be funny to rip my essay to pieces,” Tony shrugs like it’s no biggie, like he hasn’t worked for three hours on that paper because for once the topic was actually interesting, “Professor Hill didn’t agree.”

Barnes is looking more and more outraged causing Tony to sink more and more into himself. Why did he have to open his big mouth anyways? They were doing fine, he might have made it through this detention without-

“Rumlow is an asshole,” Barnes growls–wait, what? “I didn’t know he was that kind of asshole though.”

He doesn’t ask why Tony didn’t tell on Rumlow, at least, which he is thankful for. Just shakes his head, grumbles something under his breath that Tony doesn’t quite catch.

Whatever. “It’s fine,” Tony shrugs.

“It’s not,” Barnes fires back with an intense conviction that catches Tony by surprise. “And I sure hope you know that.”

Tony blinks. “I guess?”

For some inexplicable reason that causes Barnes to roll his eyes and mutter, “Dear Merlin, not another one. Why is it always me?” which Tony should probably be upset about.

It’s hard though, when Barnes spends the rest of the evening entertaining both of them with fun stories about the things he’s done to get in trouble, which leads them to the impossibly righteous punk that’s Rogers–according to Bar-Bucky, he’s allowed Tony to call him Bucky–which leads to an intense discussion about the merit of pumpkin juice.

Privately, Tony wonders if this is what having friends feels like.

The really strange thing though, is that it doesn’t end there. Things don’t go back to normal after their detention ends. Suddenly Bucky is greeting Tony in the halls, walking with him when they head the same way, invites him into his study group–which, as Tony quickly learns, is not actually a group that studies–and it’s really weird. In a nice-kind-of-great way.

Bucky’s friends are a freakish mixture of scary and sweet, and Tony isn’t sure if they actually like him or just have accepted him as the stray puppy Bucky’s picked up one day–but he doesn’t mind terribly much. They smile at him and share their sweets with him and let him go on about how the latest potion recipe is actually not the most efficient one.

Also Bucky keeps spending time with him, even when his friends aren’t around. Tony isn’t even going to pretend he doesn’t soak up the attention of the other boy because that would just be a waste of time and energy.

Because Bucky is great. He’s even greater when he takes the ribbing for ‘hanging out with the undersized snake’ with a deceptively friendly smile and a mean Bat-Bogey Hex. Not that Tony needs someone to defend him, but that doesn’t keep the sappy warmth in his chest away when someone does.

All is well. Better than well even.

Until Bucky asks Tony to the Yule Ball and Tony startles so badly, he spills ink all over his parchment–and really, why does it always have to be his transfiguration essay?

Tony doesn’t say yes exactly, but it’s strongly implied in the blushing, stuttering, wide-eyed mess the question has turned him into.

[thealfanator]

The Steel that Warmed Us in the Night-Time ~ Chapter 5

Deryk exited the tavern without further thought.  He slowly and carefully locked the door, closed the wooden shutters and left the keys on the ground in front of his feet. He turned around to look at the evening atmosphere.  Rain drops felt for his face as he fastened his ripped, dirty shirt and headed out into the wilderness.  Lightning occasionally struck the ground every other step he took.  His breath appeared, producing a small, satisfying white cloud of gas which slowly wandered off somewhere else in the distance. As he walked along the deeply covered, leaf-smothered dirt, he pondered on his decision with tears in his eyes. He had been walking for what seemed like years before he finally reached the cave.  The small cave in which a Witcher had declared that this was the ‘Cold-Hearted Thief’s lair.  Deryk tightly gripped the religious symbol which dangled from his neck, mumbled a few words, then threw himself off into the deep abyss of the cavern.  Nobody heard the thump of the body at the bottom.

“This is only three of the nine I asked you to collect.” Janshai roared.  Geralt saw his facial frustration travel through him.  The king turned, forcing Geralt to view his greasy black hair and rich cloak which drowned itself in flawless emeralds and rubies.

“I’m working on it,” Geralt grumbled, “just giving you these ones to eliminate the risk of losing them again.”

“And what of Yennefer?  Where is she?” Janshai counterattacked.  Geralt stared at the floor in sudden anxiousness.  After a quick stumble of words, he replied.

“She’s fine.”  Geralt was in the bare, melancholy office room with Yeoman.  With the exception of themselves, the room was practically empty.  The odd plant-pot supported a green plant, bursting with excitement.  A few dusty tomes littered the desk in front of him. The king looked out of the window at nearby soldiers practicing their archery skills.

“A location has been updated.  We’ve had news that someone with an amulet has moved to a new area, just off the side of Novigrad; you’ll never guess where it is…” he smiled. Geralt grumbled in his general, emotion drained tone.  “Frologhe.” Geralt stood up immediately, then sat again swiftly; half in disbelief.  He sighed, then scrambled to find words before they were abruptly interrupted by a masked soldier who awkwardly opened the door.

“There’s someone here to see the Witcher, sir.” He said before wandering off without waiting for a response.  Geralt’s ears lifted automatically as he swivelled around in his chair to face the doorway.  Then she entered.  Geralt turned away immediately; he knew who it was.

“Triss Merigold!” the king roared in an uplifting tone, “fancy seeing you here!”

“Just thought I could help an old friend of mine.” She replied, a small, cherishing smile at the corner of her mouth.

           Geralt and Triss gazed at the seemingly endless sea on their way to Frologhe. The large ship creaked and wailed at the tough tide that smacked the belly out of the air.  They had to squint to prevent the needle-induced salty air from stabbing at their eyes.  Geralt sighed.

“Almost seems like we’ve been here before…” Triss chuckled.

“Mhm.” He grumbled.  He looked at Triss; she looked back.  She couldn’t tell his mood from his Gwent-like facial expression.  A: ‘don’t give anything away’ look.  She smiled once more.

“So,” she started, “what business have you got here this time?”  she looked at Geralt sarcastically.

“Looking for an amulet.” He stated, “This wasn’t my intention. The amulets keep moving from place to place.  Quite annoying actually.”

“It’s okay, we’ll find it.” She moved close to Geralt, but he awkwardly pushed himself away and sighed.  They could see the misty island ahead.  It looked identical to the last time he visited.  The trees and the coastline merged into one, detailed canvas as the salty atmosphere swirled around it.  As they drew near, birds grew quieter; it felt like they were drifting towards a secure bubble which was isolated from the rest of the world.  A short time after they arrived, Geralt found himself staring at the half-naked buildings of the village of Hankala. There was wobbly scaffold dotted about some of them to indicate their goals to repair the damaged infrastructure. It hadn’t been long since the Cold-Hearted Thief’s fire broke out and there was still some burnt wood present on the sides of some buildings; the scars of history.

“Come on.” Triss awoke him from his trance.  He trudged along the steep hill towards the slightly depressing mood of the village.

“Oh, you again.” A woman called from the Witcher’s left in a very sarcastic tone.  It was Alisha.  She was the contractor’s cousin on the Thief quest.  Her knotted, long brown hair dangled around her neck as she put her body weight on a nearby signpost.  She didn’t look angry, Geralt thought.  Just very excited to see him…  “The professional Witcher who slept in late, then couldn’t stop a simple fire.”  Geralt noticed that she didn’t raise her voice but just consistently emitted in an increasingly annoyed and persistent low tone.  They exchanged cryptic looks before Geralt moved on.  He regret his mistake, therefore trying to avoid as many people as possible.  He moved on through the village which proved quite difficult as there were frantic builders rushing from place to place with heavy looking wooden blocks and planks. He caught Stefan out of the corner of his eye.    Geralt noticed him immediately because he was the only person who had a somewhat smile on his face.

“Geralt!” he cheered, “thank you so much for taking care of the monster last time.”

“No problem.” He looked around, “doesn’t seem like they’re very happy to see me.”

“Don’t worry about them.  I reckon they’re happy it’s gone, to be honest.”  Maintaining his welcoming grin, he gestured Geralt and the sorceress to a slightly quieter area.  He offered a couple of stools.  They sat.

“Don’t feel guilt, Geralt.  It’s not like you could’ve helped it.  The moment’s gone.”  Geralt thought Stefan was skilled with consoling.  His comforting eyes absorbed any guilt he may have had. Without saying anything, Triss crossed her arms and retreated from the conversation – looking almost bored.

“I just need to know about an amulet which is in this location.” Geralt pursued.  “Big, shiny - looks… like something I definitely wouldn’t wear.”

“Seen anything like that?” Triss supported.  Stefan’s eyes grew brighter for a second, then withdrew into a dark, ugly expression.

“Yes… but I don’t think you’ll like who has it.” He muttered under his nervous sounding breath.

           Geralt heard heavy footsteps behind him.  Grunts and puffs indicated his muscly features.  Clearly a large man.  Triss looked at him.  He wore no shirt, but just very worn brown trousers.  He had a scruffy beard and dagger-like eyes that saw through all expressions.  Her head ducked to the floor, then to Geralt.  Using her indications, he stood up and turned.

“Who is he?” he asked Stefan, who still sat – unmoved from his stool.

“Deryk’s brother.  The man committed suicide three days ago, because of you.” He whispered back. Geralt noticed a peculiar dangling amulet hanging from the man’s broken, leather belt.  Geralt looked down, guilt eating him more.  Triss glared at the man’s face of fire.

“Hey, you!” the man yelled in the devil’s deep voice, “you killed my brother!  You tried and you failed!  You failed to stop the beast before it killed his daughter!”

“I’m sorry.” Geralt replied, legs shaking as he moved towards him.

“Sorry?  Is that it?” he scoffed.  The only conversation that followed was a considerable fist to the Witcher’s face. He fell to the floor.  The man knelt over him and continued to insert bruises to various parts of Geralt’s face.  The crowd of people drew a ring around them, emitting small bubbles of shocked expressions from time to time.  Triss watched in shock as the White Wolf didn’t try to fight back; he just lie there like a cold, lifeless corpse.  Tears protruded with every punch received.

“This is for all the shit you caused!” the man continued, a thunderstorm glistening in his sharp, piercing eyes.

“Stop!”  Triss stood only a few steps ahead of the attacker, holding the amulet high in the air. Everyone cleared a path and glared at the sorceress.  The man raged at her after feeling his left-hand side, noticing the amulet was absent. Out of breath, he relentlessly sprinted towards her.  Before Triss could react, the man was already lying at her feet with an arrow through his skull.  He twitched in the pool of blood that urgently crawled across the unlevel grass.  Geralt and Triss looked over to the clearing where a shadowy figure with a bow stood. He jumped down the awkwardly-placed rocks onto the same ground where everybody else stood like a stump; paralysed from shock and fear.  As he unveiled his hood, Geralt realised it was Hunter.  Geralt got up from the floor with raised, purple lumps over his face and looked at him in disgust.

“He didn’t have to die.”

*

Triss and Hunter followed Geralt back to the cramped tavern in the heart of Velen.  She carefully placed the amulet in Geralt’s satchel whilst trying to avoid Yennefer’s bitter glare.  Ciri hugged Geralt as he entered the door.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good as ever; healing up nicely.” Ciri replied, “Are we up to five of them now?” she asked excitedly as she looked at the bag. Geralt nodded.

“Still don’t get why those men you found in the cave just gave you the amulet after poisoning you.” Yennefer pointed out. Ciri sighed as if she had been going on about it since the Witcher had been gone.  Geralt stared into space, deep in thought at Yennefer’s point.

“At least we’re halfway!” Ciri chuckled.  She took a few seconds to look individually at Yennefer, Triss, Hunter and Geralt, then she carefully made her way back to a bench across the room, holding her weight against a table to support her still very weak stance from the incident.  She closed her eyes, catching some sleep for the evening.

Thank you so much once again for keeping in touch with the series.  I’ve heard such amazing feedback and I still cannot believe it!  This series is already planning to be over twice as long as my first series; and I also hope it can be twice as exciting!  Have a good week :)

Link to Chapter 1: https://thealfanator.tumblr.com/post/161443706234/the-steel-that-warmed-us-in-the-night-time

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

The Great ATOG Reread part 5

I - finished. I feel dead inside.

Also, hi @cinnamon-t

Chapter 24

And we’re still in the recovery period, but meanwhile, Draxie is low key not so low key breaking down, which worries BB and Ghostly.

Who isn’t low key breaking down? Who is high key breaking down? BLAINE DEVON. He’s recovering in his own way. He is slowly realising he’s capable of killing other people without thinking. Now, this is ATOG, so they talk it out and blah blah ‘PHALANX SIGHTING FUCK YEAH OMFG’, but this will always be important for his character arc. His humanity and it sometimes blinds him, is dangerous. Grey delves right into that.

(You remember that message we got a couple of weeks back, from someone who said they were Phalanx and they needed help … ?)

Ash

MIKE FUCKING CHANG.

The building behind him burns like the apocalypse, and the firefighter holds the oxygen up for him, his whole body sagging too needily to that mask. 8 Die In Arson Attack, the headline states. NY’s New Hero Saves 12.

This is how Mike and Tina got so involved. This also shows fuck much they love the Ghost. And also, for the first time, Mike doesn’t regret chosing this career.

Chapter 25

Kurt is so fucking bored, he starts watching The Wire, and wow, Blaine isn’t the only fanboy anymore. Unfortunately, I don’t think Kurt can handle the blogs, otherwise he could’ve made one and followed Blaine.

Speaking of fangirls, BB and Ghostly know what Draxie has done. And so does Kurt. 

(Why must they? They’re not me, they’re decent people. And it’s not stupid and small and childish. You think it’s stupid and small and childish for Blackbindings? It keeps her *sane*, it keeps her *alive* and we both know it. And Draxie, what you write isn’t childish. The feeling in it is real. Your fic actually does come from your heart and people can tell that when they read it.)

Of course, Kurt isn’t happy, but after skimming through Draxie’s blog, he warms up to her. He doesn’t know she still has this low key breakdown. This is where Ghostly, the bitchy voice of reason, comes in.

Draxie got her reality check. She’s always known they were real, and she hasn’t really been disrespectul towards them through her fiction (compared to those fucking idiots who wrotie NC-17 Ghostzilla non-con what the fuck), but it hurts. These people are real. And oh wow, they love each other.

Ghostly is right. It’s time to write again, but this time with her new knowlegde.

Chapter 26

And so it begins.

The vigil. Phalanx attending it. RACHEL BEIGNNG AND IDIOTPC PEIECE OF SHIT???? Character wise, Rachel is well written and kind of amazing in the fic, but do I like her? Shit son. I don’t know. Rachel is a terrible friend, she’s a bigot, she’s judgemental, and she puts her bitterness and pettiness over her ability to think rationally. That’s the main problem. She can’t handle any kind of rejection, so she turns crazy.

At least one good thing comes out of this chapter:

All the Other Ghosts, ghostlanx, R for the kind of violence and threat you could actually expect while superheroing. Because the city is so dark on a night, and what ‘hero’ means to the Ghost can’t just be what he does. 

Chapter 27

(the Ghost wants to smack himself in the forehead, she might as well be waving a sign that says Please mug me!)

This is what I mean.

Rachel’s naitvety and innocence can get her killed jesus fucking christ. Honestly, innocence isn’t the main problem, but her reluctance to listen to someone who’s at least a bit sensible is very frustrating.

But Rachel isn’t the only one with a change of heart (I mean, she kinda has to change her opinions after she finds out the one man she hates the most is actually her best friend and roommate). Sam has his too. I don’t blame Sam for being desperate, although yes, he could’ve thought it through.

And oh- the Ghost realises he is going to die and he only has one person on his mind.

Falling in love was like being the first person to walk on the moon, virgin ground, nothing but his footprints and so many stars. No-one had ever said that this existed. Like no-one had ever been here before, this was so new, so sudden, so unforeseen, so delicate, like it was too much to last. Too pristine, too perfect, so bright the light fractured into tears … nothing so perfect can last in this life. Blaine. More joy than he knew there was in the world, Blaine, and his throat closes. He had so much. He was so rich with love. Maybe too much over too soon is better than a bare trickle paid out through the parched length of a life. Maybe …

Chapter 28

BB has the package, but not for long. (oh, and Blaine totally fanboying about her fic gives me life)

Back to the action. When I first read it, I almost lost my shit when I realised the ‘doc’ is Mr. Schue. It quite fits if I may say so. This entire ordeal also focuses on one of the main problems in the world: how people look past humanity.

Every time something shit happens in history, it’s because people look past humanity. 

The Team makes its first appearance. To this day, I still don’t know how to feel about that team. Sure, they helped them out and by the time Grey ended, the Ghost and Phalanx could rely on them and call them their friends, but a lot of ugly had to happen for that to succeed.

And this is what he’s bringing to save the Ghost’s life, an ill-assorted gang of people Phalanx just met, half of whom have tried to kill him previously while the other half seem more interested in arresting the government traitor than saving his life - and himself, and Finn, too scared to think straight - he has to save his life and this is the best he can do?

Chapter 29

“Because it’s so hard being you. It’s so hard being different and special and you get away with anything you want, you get to rescue people and the rest of us are just here to be rescued, we’re just cattle, aren’t we? You’re the one with the powers, you’re the one who put on the costume, you don’t get to whine about how hard it is being you when all along you’ve been acting like you get to be special and everybody else -”

Wow, I am not like the Ghost. I am all for killing this dude. What is it with people who think they know the Ghost? What is it with people who think superpowers are a gift? Do they honestly think it’s a privilege? Oh for fuck’s sake.

And the Ghost has a full blown panic attack, Phalanx isn’t there, but he knows the Ghost must be going crazy. They both know what those powers mean to the Ghost, and the moment Schuester grabbed the Ghost’s face, he lost it. Gosh. The Ghost. So helpless.

Yet, Blaine is the one who makes him breathe again.

Schuester isn’t the only one who completely misunderstands having powers. It’s not cool. It’s not a great thing. Sure, it can be, but it depends on what you do with it, but it’s not a gift. Sugar finds out. Just like Rachel, her naivety almost kills her. Jesus fucking Christ Sugar.

Chapter 30

I just read seven months worth of fiction in four days or so?

This ending is perfect and filled with happy endings. 

Kurt’s back home and his dad is on his way.

Phalanx is still out there.

Kurt gets a huge promotion- hooray!

Draxie gets the gift, which happens to be the belt of her dreams. Therefor, all the money she was going to spend can be used for other things, which saves her quite some stress.

Rachel’s final rapport.

KLAINE AND TIKE DINNER WOO! (oh and Kurt low key realising the team could be something)

Happy day in fandom.

Kurt recovering and Ghostly verbally bitch slapping everyone.

DRAXIE AND MR. DRAXIE FUCK YEAH!!

And of course

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NO YES shit. Oh shit, I’m not breathing properly. It’s him? It’s *him*?? i actually just cant (GHOSTLY GHOSTLY GET ONLINE GHOSTLY) (BB!!!!!!!) (ONE OG YOU FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!) Draxie have you seen the pics yet??? crying too hard to type can’t. can’t.

The last part was so wonderful. It felt so fitting to end this story at Pride and with the Ghost and Phalanx finally being able to take a fucking bow. This story ended on such a high note, you almost forget Grey exists.

But that’s one fucking wrap.

Speaking of Grey, I will read it. Grey is my favourite and it’s the only fanfic I straight-up call literature (and because of that, also the only piece of literature I actually like). But… it;s heavy. It took me a year to start rereading ATOG because I know it’s heavy. This was heavy. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed every minute of the crazy, but I’m not lying when I tell you I cried myself to sleep three nights in a row. At some points, this fic became too much. I actually considered taking a break after that awfully heavy chapter (NUCLEAR BOMB, THREE DEAD, BABY’S BODY), but I couldn’t.

Now I could. Now I can. Now I will. 

Knowing myself, I will start reading before the end of the week, but I need to take some time off. ATOG was heavy, but I know Grey is, like, 10 times worse.

But that is Grey. This is ATOG and wow fuck, I love this.