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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

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darling, dearest, not quite dead | o.k.

summary: twenty years. you have loved obi-wan for twenty years and the minute he comes back from what seems to be the dead, he wants your help to kill the supreme chancellor. then again, it seems almost like him to ask you to do this with him.

WARNINGS: swearing, brief death, mentions of injuries, sexual tension, angst, fluff, obi-wan is being annoying and y/n is being annoying right back, matching energies for our otp ❤️, questioning morality, crying men, happy ending!!! pairing: sith!obi-wan x fem!jedi!reader word count: 15.5k

a/n: i have no excuses ndklnsf i love him :) crossposted on ao3!

contritus | latin: broken, crumbled, worn down, crushed

Master Windu always said that a single moment defines a battle.

The moment Obi-Wan sinks his lightsaber through you, you realize that this is that moment.

It’d been a mistake—the marauder had thrown Obi-Wan forward and you’d been in his way. The Masters were too far, they were caught between giving up a Jedi holocron or their lives.

You had begged him not to give up the holocron. Your life was nothing—nothing—

It’d been a fatal mistake. You know it the moment he spears right through you.

“Obi—Obi-wan?” Your voice, soft as a whisper as you grab onto his wrist and his eyes, so very blue even in the light of his saber, widen as your fingers dig into his skin.

It’s a peculiar sensation, glowing, blinding, yet curiously numb as he chokes out your name and retracts the lightsaber. The hunter lets go of your shoulder and you fall forward, gasping at the shrivelled fabric melded to your skin as arms take you and you realize it is Obi-Wan who holds you tight just as the whomsh of another lightsaber swings overhead. Craning up, you see a decapitated hunter, Master Windu, and Master Qui-Gon.

The body falls and so do you. Your friend falls to his knees, cradling you close and you shiver as he keens over you.

The Masters look down upon their Padawans and Obi-Wan’s tear-stained face raises wretchedly to glower at them.

“Master, I—Do something—“

Oh, sweet Obi-Wan. Pleading as he holds onto you and you simply turn your head into his robes. You don’t feel any pain but you are shivering as he grabs onto your hand, holds it against the burns on your stomach.

“Bring her to the ship, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m so sorry, darling,” He looks down at you, at his young face, and you smile. Maker, you love him. “I didn’t—“

“Oh, hush, Obi,” you breathe, reaching weakly for his face. Your fingers barely brush his smooth chin before the strength leaves your arm and it falls back again. He catches your hand, gently lowering it to the ground before twisting and scooping you up with an arm underneath your knees. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“If it takes my dramatics to keep you awake, I will do what I must,” he says as he follows their Masters back to the ship. Master Windu speaks into his comlink and Obi-Wan’s grip on you only intensifies when the Padawans catch him calling for medics to be waiting when they land back on Coruscant.

They catch ‘critical condition’ and ‘uncertain odds.’

“You’re going to be alright, dearest” Obi-Wan whispers and you look up at him. Then, you smile again—he’ll be the last thing you see, won’t he?

His arms are so warm and you feel your eyelids growing heavier as the gentle sway of his steps begins to lull you to sleep.

You can hear him calling your name.

You do not wake up until both Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon have both disappeared.

You wake up and everything changes.

They tell you that Obi-Wan left the Jedi Order and Master Qui-Gon had offered his life to save you. It’s an ancient Force skill with the ultimate price.

The guilt is what eats you alive, and without your other half—Obi-Wan was more than a friend and just shy of a lover—you want to leave the Order yourself and find him.

But you don’t.

You persevere. You had forgiven him. It is, you believe, what Obi-Wan would’ve done.

What Obi-Wan would’ve wanted for you.

It is… the Jedi way.

You become a Jedi Knight in his and Master Qui-Gon’s memory. The Council trusts you, believes in your strength to return after what should have been your death. You become their top agent, true above all else.

You escort the Queen of Naboo, you land on Tatooine, you find yourself a Padawan. You do everything you can to keep his memory alive in your heart.

You do not speak of the dreams.

In your sleep, you feel the lingering presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi, his terrified screams, the untamed rage in his swings. Instead of blue, everything flashes red, and when you reach for him, he pulls away.

He’s out there… somewhere. You wonder if he knows you’re alive or if he left before he could know.

You are on Coruscant in your rooms when you get your answer. The Clone Wars are beginning to wear on them all, you are a Jedi General with an old Padawan who’s found himself an apprentice of his own, and life seems… not easy, but not complicated. There is no time to think of much besides the war and although you barely sleep these days, it’s better being so exhausted you can barely even dream.

“So he was right.”

Every inch of you stiffens as you whip around, pulling out your saberstaff from your belt with a practiced flourish and activating it. The yellow plasma hums and you narrow your eyes at the intruder.

“Jedi Sentinel, one of the youngest-made Jedi Knights in the Order, yet, held in such high esteem,” he continues. His eyes, glowing yellow in the shadows, pin you down and your grip on your saberstaff only tightens as the Sith steps out into the light and your breath catches when you stare into the face of a man you thought you’d lost. “Master Windu must love you, dearest.”

Obi-Wan, older, with his strong jaw covered in a beard and long hair raked back, stands in front of you with a smirk. A scar fractures his face, crossing his nose and digging into his cheek, but it only serves to amplify his looks. He’s handsome, still. Handsomer, even.

Mature, civil, cold.

You remember Master Windu once said he could’ve been the greatest negotiator the Jedi Council had ever seen and you, the greatest fighter.

He, the calming hand. You, the fist.

Now, it seems, that they each are both.

In black armour and a hood tugged over his head, he regards you as he descends down the small flight of steps into your sitting area and you swallow, twirling your staff so it points down along the length of your arm—a show of peace, for now.

He hasn’t pulled out his own lightsaber you see hanging at his hip. It makes you uneasy.

Is it still blue? Red, now?

All you know is that he is everything you swore to fight against.

“Sit.” You don’t even recognize your own voice when you speak, quiet and rasping as you deactivate your saberstaff and join him at the couches. Sitting across from him, you watch as he smoothes his hand over his robes and does so, pulling the hood off his head. “Is there any name by which you be called, or are you still Obi-Wan?”

His eyes snap to yours at the name and you meet him head on, your chest swelling in pain. How desperately you want to touch him, make sure this is all real, you cannot even begin to describe.

Obi-Wan, a man you had loved since they were mere children in the Jedi Temple—childish love that had matured in something wretched, something forlorn—lives in his eyes. You see it then, for a split-second, when you had said his name.

But then, it had been swallowed up by whatever sits before you now.

“Darth Contritus.”

“Catchy.”

“Hm.”

“I won’t use it.”

Silence. You look out at the balcony and note that the door is cracked open before glancing at Obi-Wan before you again. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle, and you sense something stirring with him—it’s powerful, negative—and you clench your jaw, hands folded in your lap.

“What’s true, then?” you prompt after a while of his glaring. You feel bare before him after all this time and your stomach flips as he blinks, looking up from where he’d been trailing his gaze down your body, to your scarred hands, you know.

You can feel him everywhere.

“That you live,” says Obi-Wan—Darth Contritus, you should say, but you refuse.

“I do,” you agree. “And you would’ve known that had you stayed on Coruscant.” With me, you want to add but he hears it anyway. You know he does. “It’s been a long time, Obi-Wan. What is it, twenty years? More?”

“Obi-Wan,” he echoes wryly. “It’s been just as long since I heard that name. You should watch yourself lest you say that in front of the wrong people.”

“Well, you’ll always be Obi-Wan to people who loved you, hm?” Your chest tightens and you find his eyes again. His eyebrows furrow inquisitively as his hand brushes over his chin. You want to scream.

You want Anakin to barge in here, ask for advice from his former Master. Or, maybe, have the Senator of Naboo herself summon you. Have anyone demand your presence as they have for what feels like the past year with late night meetings and delegations.

But there won’t be. You know this.

On this nights of all nights, Obi-Wan Kenobi finds you alone and your heart wilts in your chest.

Love. It weighs like a bantha between your shoulders. You once felt like you could fight a dragon with love, and now, it tears you apart slowly, limb from limb.

Loved.

You cannot linger. “Why are you here? If you were here to kill me, you would’ve tried already.”

“Only tried?” he mocks, leaning back into the sofa. Your arms stiffen and he smirks. “Dearest, I would’ve succeeded.”

“And there’s that signature Kenobi smugness. It’s a relief to see that some things don’t change,” you shoot back. “I’m not the same girl and you…” You laugh weakly. “You are not the same boy.” His hands shift on his knees and your eyes dart to the movement. Long, agile fingers dig into his knees and when you look at him, your gut clenches. “What do you want from me, Obi-Wan?”

“I need your help.”

That surprises you. Your chin jerks up to meet his eyes and he has that arrogant smile, that faint smirk that makes your stomach flutter even now.

You can’t remember the last time you felt this way—

Stop. You can’t think of that, you chastise to yourself. He is everything you are fighting against—everything that a Jedi cannot be. He isn’t the Obi-Wan you love anymore.

Except he is.

He always will be.

“With what?”

The fact that you do not outright deny him is proof enough.

“If I told you I know who the Sith Lord orchestrating this whole debacle was and wanted to destroy him with your help, what would you say?”

“I would say that you want something in return for my help. I would say it’s been years since we’ve last seen each other and the first time we discover the other is alive”—your voice is dangerously bitter—“all you want to ask is a favour.”

He chuckles. There is a trickling trail of cold dread in your stomach. “Oh, dearest, you haven’t lost your wit.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what, darling?” He’s playing coy, but the predator in his eyes does not falter as he rests an arm along the back of the couch.

“You know what.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Obi-Wan—“

“Darth,” he cuts you off coldly, “Contritus. Obi-Wan is dead and I am finished entertaining the thought that he is anything otherwise.”

“I refuse to believe it.” You stand, smoothing a hand over your overtunic and turning your back to him. It’s foolish, you know, but you want to know if he will attempt to strike you down for refusing him—if there is a list of people he wants to turn, wants to help him achieve more and more power. Walking around the couch, you step up out of the small pit. “Find someone else.”

You take not one more step before you feel the faintest rush and your hand shoots to your saberstaff, activating it. Whipping around, you block his swing, their blades clashing in blinding white. Red meets yellow and you feel the hum of plasma in your bones as you stare up at Obi-Wan. He pushes down on you and you grit your teeth, digging your feet into the ground and shoving him back, your boots sliding along the floor with the force of his own strike. Energy fizzes in your bones and you’re breathless.

Just his presence so close to yourself again makes your nerves burn. Your senses are overloaded, memories flooding your brain and you stiffen when he lets out a soft laugh.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

His lightsaber is burning so brightly you feel tears spring to your eyes and there is a swelling in your throat as you snap apart your lightsaber into dual blades, reversing the grip with a twist of your wrists. Obi-Wan’s eyes widen nearly imperceptibly and you raise a blade up in a defensive position.

You had spent years training in Niman and the Shien variant, convincing Master Windu to train you in Vaapad despite the temptation of the dark side, mastering them to fill the void inside you.

You’re not about to let the man who caused it to strike you down.

“A lot has changed. My answer is final.”

“You don’t even know what I want.” Curse him for being so relaxed, red saber burning and hissing and crackling yet loose in his experienced hand. “Dearest—“

“Stop it.”

“Darling, is finding the Sith Lord not the Council’s priority?”

“I won’t work with you.”

“Why?” The question is abrupt, and your eyebrows furrow together quizzically. It’s genuinely asked, you realize, and your grip laxes as he deactivates his lightsaber and clips it. “You can clearly match blows with me. I won’t get the jump on you as easily as some of the other fools in the Order.” You wonder if that’s difficult for him to admit. The Obi-Wan you’d known didn’t find it hard to admit, but…

But still. Still, everything’s changed.

“Is it, I wonder, because you care for me?”

Your stomach rolls and you don’t know if you should be ecstatic or terrified that he’s right.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Or because you still think of our time together?”

“There was no time. We were Jedi—“

“Temptation frightens you.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Now, now,” he says, walking over to you smoothly and tilting his head. He offers a crooked smile and your lips part as you suck in a sharp breath. You drop your own guard unwillingly, lightsabers shutting off with a whomsh and he gently pushes your arms down. You let him—you do.

You can feel every molecule of his being coming closer, the smell of soap heavy in your nose as he stops before you. Maybe it’s because your heart is racing as he nears and you don’t even know if you’re breathing, or if it is because the love you once felt for him is roaring to life, consuming you until you are nothing more than starfire. Either way, you don’t want to know.

“We both know that the memories we share still… haunt you here…” His fingers brush over your temple and your eyes flutter shut. His touch is so soft, so tender, that you feel a part of you break. His hand trails down your jaw, down your neck, fluttering over your tunic and exposed collarbones and you know he feels you swallow. You know that he can feel every inch of you as intimately as if they were the same being. “And here…” He presses fingers to your sternum, right where your heart is. “Here is where your true desires lie.”

“I have no desires,” you grit out, pulling back but he grabs your arm before you can escape from his reach. Your head snaps up from his firm hand to his burning eyes and you are incinerating from inside out. “The Jedi—“

“—don’t give a damn about what you are or what you want. They only care about what you can do for them—“

“And that’s any different from the Sith?” You rip your arm free and immediately regret it for a flashing moment. “Get out of my sight.”

“Or what?”

“What do you mean ‘or what’?” you snap, holstering your lightsabers with twitching snarl at your lips. “You said it yourself, you are no longer Obi-Wan Kenobi, I don’t love you, and I am done with this game.” There is pleasure in the way his facade seems to crack then before attempting to repair itself and there is a surge in your bravery as you shove your face into his. He can’t quite fix the breaks you’ve smashed in his mask. “Go. Or this time, I’ll cut you down.”

“Hm.” His eyebrow quirks as he stares at you intently, curiously. Those eyes are nothing like the blue you had once known. “I’d like to see you try.”

Your eyes burn but you do not blink.

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

“My, my. Such anger from the Council’s prized hound,” he murmurs mockingly into your ear as his fingers brush your jaw again and there is that cocky, sickening smile in the blonde of his beard. Your lips pull into a snarl and you jerk your head away, turning around. You detest this new man before you, yet you can’t even bare to see him go. You feel like everything inside you is peeling. “Anger suggests feeling, dearest. Temper that the next time you wish to convince me that you no longer care for me.”

“It’s a bold claim that I could care for someone who is everything I fight against.”

“One you didn’t deny,” he replies evenly. “Goodnight, Jedi.”

You wait until you’re sure he’s gone—when you can on longer sense his presence and your heart comes down from your throat.

You crawl into the bed and bury your face into the pillow before screaming out against every injustice in the world.

If Anakin notices anything the morning after, he does not say it. Instead, he simply says “Master” in his cordial tone as he always does and you, for the first time in a very long time, since he was a boy even, look at him and your bruised heart is listless in your chest, a puppet with cut strings. You hold his face in your hand and look at the man you’ve trained, raised from the ground up, and truly feel the life that’s passed you by.

“Are you alright, Master?”

“Fine. Just tired,” you murmur quietly. “I’m just… I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Your old Padawan regards you and you know what he sees as he nods against your palm and you let him go. He sees a mother, a sister, family.

You can only hope that he knows you feel the same way. Your son, your brother, the one thing left you know you can rely on.

“I know. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

“You could never,” you assure with a gentle sigh and when he looks at you with that hope in his eyes, it reminds you torturously of Obi-Wan when they still had hopes for their own future. Together. Together. The word aches everywhere. “You know you could tell me anything, Anakin, and I would never care for you less.” Anakin’s expression flickers and your eyebrows twitch together before he gives you a tiny, boyish grin.

“Of course. And you, as well. I am here for you, Master.”

You give him a plastic facsimile of a smile before squeezing his elbow. “I know. Come on. The Council is waiting.”

They send you to a warm moon that reminds you of Naboo. Yavin 4, outer rim.

At least it isn’t Hoth, or Maker forbid, Alzoc III.

There’s a Separatist chapter lodging in the jungles of the moon, causing enough trouble to warrant the Jedi’s attention.

You think your old Master notices your distracted disposition and sent you somewhere easy to work out whatever’s bothering you with a good droid slicing. Master Windu has always been attuned to your emotions, long before everything with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan happened. It’s why you were his Padawan.

He had sensed the darkness in you the moment he first saw you, or maybe he foresaw it.

You don’t know.

You land your starfighter in the brush where it’ll stay hidden enough before jumping out and landing in the soft dirt quietly. You’ve shed Jedi robes for a sleeker outfit more fitted for the jungles. With tan sleeveless tunic tucked into darker brown pants, your boots shift in the soil as you skirt into the fronds and head in the direction of the fortress.

There is nothing complicated about this.

It’s arduous, yes. Dangerous, monumentally. But it isn’t complicated. Training Anakin is more complicated than destroying a Separatist branch. Deciding between sleeping in Obi-Wan’s quarters or your own when they were just mere Padawans was a harder choice than deciding whether or not you swing left first or right.

It’s all instinct, second-nature and nearly your first. Soon, the fortress stops screaming from blaster fire and droid whining. You slash the head off the last droid, let its head roll at your feet and whirl around when you sense another presence behind you.

And there he stands again, a ghost you can’t shake.

It disrupts you to your very core. There is the smell of smoking metal and something worse as he tilts his head, amused. You clip your saberstaff with a practiced twirl, kicking a droid’s head away with a swift swing of your boot.

He’s leaning against the wall, all sleek and handsome, you’re sweating with oil smeared across your cheek.

How romantic.

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“And I knew you just couldn’t stay away,” he retorts. “I wasn’t aware you’d be here until I heard you destroying those poor droids.” His voice is dripping with scathing sarcasm. “My, my, Jedi, you’re a sight.”

Joining him by the wall, you tentatively lean back against it as he turns onto his shoulder, regards you with a keen interest.

“You’re infuriating,” you admit quietly, refusing to look at him. You instead stare at the black leather of his boots, the way he’s crossed his legs at the ankles as he did when he was still by your side. Just more proof Obi-Wan’s there, torturing you with those tiny glimpses. “Why were you here?”

“There’s a factory here, over in Massassi Valley. I arrived to check in on their progress before I was alerted of a gorgeous Jedi with a yellow saber. Hm.” Your eyes flutter to his face and he smiles faintly. “Three forms.”

“You noticed.”

“How could I not, dearest?” He pushes off the wall with a smirk and, against your own will, a smile begins to pull at your lips insistently. “You’re just oh, so talented.”

Stubbornly ignoring the twitch, you follow him. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Oh, I apologize. Sentinel, then. Formalities, and such.”

“And I know you didn’t mean that apology.” They step over a droid body and make their way through the fortress, following the trail of droid bodies. You’ve rigged the place to explode and you know you could leave him to rot if you wanted but…

But he wants something from you, and if you can convince him to give you the Sith Lord without something in exchange—

“And I still wish to talk to you about our negotiation. We never finished before someone lost her temper.”

“Don’t test me, Obi-Wan. I don’t need to remind you the importance of warming up before a battle,” you warn and he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of a laugh, and your smile grows as you lower your head, trying to hide it away from him. “And I think losing my temper is fair when I’m around such atrocious company.”

“Oh, now I know you aim to wound me.”

“Am I hitting my mark?”

“Not even close.”

Jumping over the railing of the building, they traverse in silence up a short hill before you turn around and pull out the detonator. With a simple press of a button, it goes up in flames and debris, caving in from the inside out and destroying any droid not alerted already by your little dance with your saber.

Job done. And there’ll be a million more like it in differing sizes and magnitudes. Dropping the detonator to your feet, you smash it to bits with a sharp stomp.

How many more factories can they blow up? How many droids can they kill?

All of it means nothing if you don’t kill the mastermind behind it all.

Eyes closing, you curse whatever deity pulls the strings and tell yourself that it’s just what you have to do. There are no clean hands in war. Just dirty ones and dirtier ones.

So be it.

Turning to Obi-Wan, your eyes flutter from his dark robes to his face.

“You wanted my attention, you have it.” His eyes squint a bit at your choice of words and you lift your chin up, refusing to back down in his overwhelming confidence. “Talk.”

“Now you want to listen to me?”

“Don’t waste my time.” Your boots shift in the soft dirt, leaves bending beneath the ball of your feet and you look at Obi-Wan, really get a good look at him for the first time since he’s thrusted himself back into his life. You wonder if you look at him the same way he looks at you. Then, you ponder if he notices that he stares at you like he’s seen a ghost or if he believes that no one can read him anymore.

But you still can.

You can rip the pages out of a book, but it does no good for someone who has memorized every single page and simply flips through for the memories.

“The Sith Lord, his name is Darth Sidious,” he says, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “He rules the Republic secretly, taking senators under his control with a simple word. The apprentice, on the other hand, was Count Dooku.”

“Count Dooku? The Jedi who retired.”

He nods. “The same. That is, before I killed him and took his place.”

“Killed him,” you repeat. “You killed a Jedi.”

“A Sith Lord,” he corrects.” It was of no consequence. He would’ve caused you more trouble sooner or later.” It’s the flippant way in which he speaks that sets you back as he turns to head deeper into the forest and you follow him for lack of nowhere else to go. This is the way to your starfighter, something he seems to realize.

“Obi-Wan, you can’t just say that.“

“How many times do I need to remind you that—“

“Well, I refuse to use that name.” You plant yourself right in front of him and his eyes widen, eyebrows rising as he looks up at you. Clenching your jaw, you wish you could somehow reach into him, pull the Obi-Wan you know out so you could just hold him again— “It’s cursed, and wretched, and wrong.”

“This again?” He tries to walk around you but you grab his arm. He freezes, rigid, under your grip and you try to pull him back.

“You know I’m right. You only correct me when I start questioning your morality—something I thought Sith don’t exactly doubt.” Your eyes narrow. “I thought you all believed you were evil and relished in it.”

When he rips his arm out of your grip, he tears a piece of you with him. “Don’t make me regret my decision to come to you.”

“Regret it, then. See if I care.” You start to walk back down to the wreckage of the building and you hear a loud sigh.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere where the air isn’t tainted with your presence. I’m not wasting my time when there is a war going on.”

“Tainted?” His voice rises as he walks down the hill after you. “If I was aware that the Jedi have made you so marvellously childish, I wouldn’t have come at all.” Stopping in your tracks, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead and you whip around, pinning him with a glare.

“What do you mean come? You said you were here already.” Before you know it, his mouth opens to argue but no words come out and you know you’ve caught him.

So you get under his skin as much as he gets under yours.

Good.

“You were following me.”

Dryly: “An astute observation. Now, will you help me kill a Sith Lord or not?” He stops in front of you and you tilt your head. His lips are twisted in an impatient scowl as you look over your shoulder at the ruins of the Separatist chapter.

Then, you cross your arms and sit down on the hill. You glance up at him, cock your head as a silent invitation for him to sit next to you. The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon, painting the sky a wondrous purple-orange. When you look at Obi-Wan, the orange ignites the gold in his eyes and sets his hair aflame. He stares out at the sky, legs crossed and hands on his lap. The perfect meditation posture.

“You haven’t succumbed to the dark side, have you?” you ask quietly, voice cracking, and he blinks, looking at you.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Then, his eyes are on the sky again.

You search his side profile. He seems so normal. So… like himself. It scares you yet brings you relief.

“Never mind.” You draw your legs up to your chest, rest your arms atop your kneecaps. “The Sith Lord, Darth Sidious. He taught you… whatever it is that’s so enticing about the dark side.”

“Oh, if only you knew, dearest,” he sighs. “But yes. I’ve no interest in seeing his reign continue.”

“But… shouldn’t your goals align?” you ask, confused. “It is the goal of the Sith to destroy the Jedi.”

“Not all Jedi,” he corrects. “Perhaps some exceptions can be made.” Again, his eyes flicker to yours and your eyebrows knit together. A delicate frown mars your face. “You. Your old Padawan. You join me and together we can rule the galaxy ourselves. We could keep him because I know how much he means to you. Personally, I find him endearing.”

Shock shoots through you like cold fire. “What? No. No, that’s not how this works. We do this for the Republic. Not to replace one dictator with another.”

“Why not?” he laughs. “We’d have no rules, or, perhaps, it’d be by our own design. We could have the power to shape the galaxy however we wish.” He leans over. “I know you want that as much as I do. I don’t see why we shouldn’t take the Senate for ourselves.”

“Because that’s wrong! Because democracy—“

“—has worked so well?” he asks dryly. “Look at the Trade Federation. The Separatists. Your democracy has failed you twice in the past ten years on a scale tantamount to the largest volcano on Mustafar erupting.”

“Then we amend what goes wrong. That’s how this works. We try and try. We do it until we get it right, even if we never do.”

“That is a fool’s play.”

“I’d rather us be the fools than the king,” you snap. “At least fools know where they stand.” You get up, turn to ascend up the hill again and you dust off your pants, dirt flecking off the fabric. “As for us…” You scoff, shaking your head and you can hear him getting to his feet as well. “I can’t believe I ever humoured the idea that there could ever be an ‘us’ again.”

“That idea could become reality if you would just join me.” His voice is harsher than a serrated vibroblade as he falls into step beside you. You hate how easily he catches up but you refuse to acknowledge him as you stride back to your ship. “Think of it. There wouldn’t be a single thing separating us again. Not death, not the Sith, not the Code. We could finally be together. I’ve thought of nothing else since I learned that you were alive.” You bite your lip, eyes resolutely staying forward despite his words seeping into your conscious. “I know that’s what you want. Without the Code, we could flaunt our love. I could cherish you as you deserve, darling. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to be with me, too?”

And something—something about how brutally honest those words are just hits you like a speederbike and you stop in your tracks for the second time that day. Obi-Wan stops a few paces ahead and you pin him with a sorrowful stare.

“So. That’s what this is about.” You let out a short, incredulous breath. “Not… not power. Not even some delusion that you can rule the galaxy better than the Senate. You just want me.”

His eyes widen before they narrow into a glare and he storms down the hill, shoves his face into your space and you swallow the rock in your throat.

“Yes,” he growls, nose-to-nose. “Is it so wretchedly inhumane of me to desire you?”

Your heart stops in your chest and you cannot answer right away.

Can’t. Won’t.

There doesn’t seem to be a difference. All you know is that you can’t breathe.

And when you remember how, all you can smell is him, feel him so close to you that you can’t imagine ever forgetting him.

“No.” The word, so fragile, so short, flutters past your lips and Obi-Wan reels back like you had punched him. “No, I don’t think it’s inhumane at all to love.”

“It is all I do this for,” he whispers furiously as if you hadn’t spoken, eyes searching your own. You reach to touch his tunic but he grabs your wrist so tightly that you can’t break out of it. “Let me make that very clear that it is because of you that I am like this.” His lips twist into a snarl. “You haunt me and I let you because I take a sadistic pleasure in wanting what I cannot have. Do with that what you wish.”

Your heart drops into your gut as you wrench your wrist out of his grip and their eyes meet in dark, ferocious anger as they linger in the heat of it.

Then, before you can question what he means, he draws back and all that anger, rage, grief, melts to a mask of diplomacy. No tension in his face, no feeling. He’s a blank slate as he clears his throat, regards you with an impassive gaze that somehow hurts more than his ire.

“If you do intend to help me,” he finally says icily, “join me on Coruscant. You will receive specific details on your terminal.”

Shaken, you watch him disappear into the jungle. Your legs give in before you can follow and as you fall to your hands and knees, you wonder if you cry for him and the fate you’ve tied him to or cry for yourself and the guilt that begins to eat you alive.

“I’m so glad you made it back safely. As for the Council hearing, that couldn’t have been easy.”

“Thank you, Padmé, and it wasn’t, but… we made it through. What’s done is done when you’re dealing with the Sith. Now that we found the name of the Sith Lord, maybe we can narrow down our serach.”

“Master Windu must be pleased with your work.”

“Have you met him? Nothing pleases him. Ever.” You sip on your tea politely but it tastes like nothing on your tongue. Padmé frowns faintly at your tone, not besmirching her beauty in the slightest as Anakin walks in. Looking up, you set down your cup. “Anakin.”

“Ahsoka told me I could find you both here. What are you doing on the terrace?” he asks with a glance at you, then a softer one at the Senator. Concern masks his features. “It’s cold at night.”

“You know, sometimes ladies need moments to ourselves,” Padmé teases, standing. You lean back into your chair, watching in amusement at the way Anakin’s expression completely melts when she walks past him. If he couldn’t be any more obvious. “How’d the research go?”

“Fine. Ahsoka asked me something that I couldn’t answer so I just wanted to ask you about it, Master.”

“Me?” You sit up. “What could I possibly know that you don’t?”

“Well, she heard of a name and it was before my time, so I thought you could help.”

“Calling her old when you want something, Ani?” Padmé calls from inside as she sets something down on the table. You get up yourself, letting the droids take care of their dishes as you join your friend inside. “Now, that’s classy.”

Stifling a laugh, you enter the apartment and glance over your shoulder at your old Padawan learner. “Ask.”

“Well, she was looking through the libraries and came upon a name. It’s popped up in our database now that we know the name of the Sith Lord. The Rule of Two demands an apprentice, and if we’re right, it could be him.” Your heart drops in your throat as you sit down and Anakin clasps his hands behind his back. His eyes are solemn, his lips set in a frown. Padmé’s eyes rest on you in concern and you know that your silence is just as troubling as anything.

“What name?” you ask, so quietly you’re not sure you’re audible.

“He was a Padawan at the same time as you, Master.” Your throat tightens and you pray to the Maker he doesn’t say what you think he will— “Obi-Wan Kenobi. He simply… disappeared. Not even the Council could trace him.”

“Anakin…”

“Did you know him?” Padmé asks curiously and your eyes dart to her.

“I did. He was… he was my best friend. His disappearance…” Broke me. Killed me. What else is there to say? “It was a great loss to the Order. He was the best of us. I wasn’t even aware that he was alive.” The silence that follows nearly chokes you and you sweep your gaze from Anakin to Padmé until you realize you can no longer bare their interrogating stares. Standing, you bow to the Senator and excuse yourself. “Goodnight, Senator. Forgive me but the war means little sleep for me. I must meditate on this.”

“Goodnight,” Padmé calls, the frown evident in her voice as you turn, leaving the apartment as quickly as you can.

You reach the elevator and step on just as Anakin catches up to you and you flash him a false smile, stepping aside to make room for him beside you. He lets out a breath, glancing at you. The doors close and he looks at the buttons, clasping his hands in front of himself before pressing the ground floor just as you did with a decisiveness one can’t fake.

That Skywalker swagger. Must be.

He steps back into line beside you. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“In all my years under your tutelage, I’ve never seen you so affected. You’re steadfast, Master.”

“Did I miss ‘Compliment Your Elders Day’ in the calendar?”

A scowl. “And you deflect with sarcasm.”

“As all the best do.”

“Master.”

“Anakin,” you censure. “I’ll be fine. It is you who can confide in me, not the other way around.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s fair,” he replies stubbornly. “I hardly know anything about you and I’ve known you far longer than I haven’t.”

“Oh, that makes me feel great about myself.” The sarcasm drips through your words. “We work well together, Anakin. That’s all that’s mattered.”

“Whether we work well together or not isn’t the point. I’ve know you for years and you’ve never told me anything about yourself.”

“Well, you know I was born on Corellia. I like flying. You know how I fight, which is far more intimate than most people know me,” you list off the top of my head. “You know how I take my caff, that I drink often, even though unofficially, the Jedi don’t condone excess consumption of alcohol.” At Anakin’s skeptical gaze, you sigh. “Look, it’s not just you I refuse to speak of it to. No one except the Council knows about Obi-Wan. He’s… he’s not supposed to exist, in a figurative sense. He was supposed to be wiped from the databases.” Anakin’s expression scrunches up in confusion and you drop your gaze. “There was a situation. It was handled, but there was a whole mess that came along with it. A Jedi died—“

“I saw. Ahsoka showed me the death certificate of a Master Qui-Gon Jinn a few days after Obi-Wan Kenobi’s recorded documentation regarding him leaving the order. The reports speak of a mission with you and Master Windu, as well as Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon.” Hearing the Jedi’s name makes your guts twist and you look up at the elevator lights signifying their level. They still have so far to go. “What happened that day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Master, trust me. You know me better than anyone. If Obi-Wan Kenobi is the Sith Apprentice we’re searching for—“

“Anakin, I am warning you. Do not mention Obi-Wan’s name again.” Your cold tone knocks him off and you know it’s because you never use that tone against him. You instantly regret your words and you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Chewing your lip, an apology already works its way into your mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

The doors open at last and you begin to leave.

“I’m starting to sense he was more than your friend, Master,” Anakin murmurs, grabbing your forearm, stalling you, and you look at him wretchedly. A mirthless smile works its way onto your face and your heart wilts in your chest as you gently pull out of his grip. Anakin’s eyes widen and you can only look at him in apology.

“Anakin… what lies between you and the Senator?” you ask and he jerks back as if you’ve slapped him.

You might as well have as he stammers, “Nothing more than friends.”

Your smile only grows unhappily. “Then apply that ‘friendship’ to what was between Obi-Wan and I, Ani, and you have your answer.”

You sit on top of the building, knee jiggling as you wait. You could meditate, eat, pass the time any other way besides watching the speeders, but you don’t. You feel nauseous, cold.

You hadn’t told anyone of your meeting here, as Obi-Wan requested and yet, you fear Master Windu might’ve caught on to your lies.

The Jedi Council actively search for the very man you’re meeting and you can’t help but feel like sniper sights are aimed at your back every time you leave your apartment.

“Hello there.”

You whip around to see a cloaked figure emerge from the shadows. Obi-Wan stands there, dressed in black and a dark bloody maroon. His hood off and his hands in open display, he stands there until you face forward again, taking that as an invitation to come closer.

“I trust you’re well?”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries,” you utter quietly, clasping your hands. He climbs over the railing, sits beside you on the balustrade with a quiet sigh. Their feet dangerously close to the edge of the roof, he glances at the traffic and you stare at your boots. “Let me make something very clear: I want to help, no matter your own motives. I swore to keep the peace and that is what I’ll do, but after this, our arrangement is done.” Your eyes find his and you hope the coldness in your tone is mirrored in your gaze. “I never want to see you again. Let me be a ghost and you can be mine.”

Obi-Wan’s lips curved into a handsome frown. You look back out at the skylanes.

Quiet.

He must know you mean it this time. That there is no coyness, no game—you aren’t out to play hard to get. You aren’t acting like you don’t know what you’re saying. No, you’re well, and truly, done. Sick of it. Finished. Whatever synonym that can be concocted, it is what you are. Even if you do love Obi-Wan, you wish you had died that day. It would’ve been much better than this.

An odd twenty years later, and sometimes, your stomach still aches from old scars.

“Am I understood?” you finally inquire softly.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, let’s get to work.” You draw your hands up your thighs, set your spine straight and look at your new partner-in-crime. “What’s our first move?” He stares at you for a moment, pale yellow eyes searching your face, but when you merely arch an eyebrow in prompting, he blinks and pulls something out of his pocket.

“Well, considering my Master hasn’t recognized that I intend to murder him in cold blood yet, we must move quickly. Have you deduced who Darth Sidious is?” You look at him and he sighs. “Who has always rubbed you the wrong way, no matter what everyone else said?”

You roll that question over in your head for a moment. “I’ve never liked how Chancellor Palpatine has attached himself to Anakin,” you confess. “If anyone, he’s painted himself the saviour of the Republic and the Council don’t trust him.”

“For once, the Council is right.” You frown at his bitter tone. “And your intuition never fails.”

“So the Sith Lord is Chancellor Palpatine, the most well-guarded man in the galaxy.”

“Yes.”

“And you do realize that a Jedi killing him portrays a certain… image, don’t you?”

“Oh, I know. I’ll do it. What I need is for you to get me access to his rooms.” Eyebrows shooting up, you rest your chin on your clasped hands, your elbows digging into your knees. “You said it yourself: your old Padawan learner is off mingling with the Supreme Chancellor himself. I assume you’re close with the Skywalker boy.”

“I am.”

“He’s powerful in the Force, that one,” he comments.

Quietly: “I know.” Sighing, your eyes find Obi-Wan’s. “So you want me to manipulate Anakin to let us in.”

“Manipulate is a strong word.”

“Didn’t realize you had such an aversion to using people to your own means.” The light of the city reflects off his eyes, cloaking his face in half light, half shadow. It only amplifies the arrogance of his smirk, the arrogant cock of his eyebrow. Your gut clenches and your thighs press together as he leans over.

“I have a strong, strong inclination for the consensual, darling.”

“So witty, as always,” you breathe. “As if the last time we spoke had no consequence.”

“Oh, it doesn’t. Not for me at least. For you, on the other hand…” He clicks his tongue. “I can feel the guilt inside you, twisting your every thought.” He chuckles. ”It’s funny, really.”

“My torture is your amusement?”

“Ah, no, never,” he corrects. “It’s a bitter delight that you never realized your hand in all of this. This situation, this war, this… conundrum of the heart. It’s… sick,” he acknowledges, “but after years of my own guilt consuming me, it’s almost… comforting to see you suffering like me.”

Your gut convulses at his words. “You think I didn’t suffer in your absence? That I didn’t dream of you every night for years?” His eyes study your face that begins to crumble underneath his stare.

“I think we are alike in our agony.” He flips the device he pulled out earlier over in his hands, activating it with a simple press of a button. “Do you know why I want to kill the Chancellor?” A soft voice begins to emit for the device and he hands it over to you with a faint smile. “Take it.”

“What will you do? Spin your tragic tale?” you inquire without any bite. You mean it—tales are tragic when it comes to their lives so interwoven with one another and as they sit on the edge of the balcony, overlooking a city still alive despite the war raging, the night edging in on all sides, you hold the device to your ear and swallow when you hear Darth Sidious’ voice, vile and old. It sends a shiver up your spine.

“She hangs in the balance, young one. Join me, and I will ensure that she lives.”

“A tragic tale,” he echoes. “Yes, perhaps it is.”

The recording scratches, skips forward. “She’s dead, Obi-Wan. I’m sorry for your loss but you can avenge her. Use that lust for vengeance for more than grieving a girl dead before her time.”

You lower the device from your ear. You don’t want to hear any more of his manipulations. Those brief glimpses had been enough to make your stomach churn. “You don’t need to say any more.”

“He cloaked you from me. For years, I kept seeing your eyes,” he continues distantly. He leans forward on his knees, almost leaning into the wind and you clutch onto the cylindrical device tighter. “I remembered what it felt like, feeling your lifeforce ebb and disappear by my hand.”

“But you found me,” you try and he chuckles darkly, looking out at the skylanes. Two speeders nearly collide and his lips twitch into a mirthless grin.

“Indeed. When I was looking for the boy.”

“Anakin?”

“Hm.” He looks at you again. “The Chancellor wants to replace me with him now that he’s all grown.” Then, his eyes drift, rich in drive, zeal, the spirit of a warrior, the soul of a man who refuses to falter. “I suppose that’s another reason why it’s time to deposit the tyrant. I don’t intend to die so easily.”

In a moment of irrational, or perhaps even lack of, thought, you reach for his clasped hands and hold onto him. He doesn’t rip himself away immediately and in fact, his eyes seem to fixate onto yours deeply as you slip your hand between his.

“I’ll be there,” you promise him, not daring to look away, not wanting to for a second. It isn’t the most romantic thing in the world—you could’ve promised that you’d protect him, that he won’t die because you’re there, that he won’t ever be harmed again, that ‘it’ll be okay’—but you’ve always been practical, just as Obi-Wan was. Is. The only thing you can offer is the truth: “You won’t be alone.”

Then, he lifts one of his hands and rests his palm on your knuckles, and your heart, thudding like thunder in your chest, hitches. You suck in a cold, clear breath and squeeze his hand gently.

“Thank you.” His fingers brush over your skin and electricity dances up your arm as he watches you softly, gaze falling from your eyes to your lips. The gauzy glow of Coruscant softens his features and a shuddering sigh leaves your lungs as he leans forward.

It’s a moment where you think no, I shouldn’t, I can’t, I won’t, I won’t, I won’t before your heart, screaming to meet his, shuts up whatever rational voice echoes in your head and you close the distance. The instant their lips meet, a hand lifts from yours and shoots to your jaw, cupping your face and deepening the kiss. You set down the device blindly, holding onto his neck. Their hands spring apart and your other hand rakes through his hair, fingers twisting in auburn locks as he holds your face, burns himself into your mouth.

You barely remember when your eyes closed.

All you know is that the smell of him, the taste, it’s all so familiar yet there is the hint of something darker, smokier leading you deeper into his influence. One of his hands spreads across your neck, thumb brushing over the front of your throat and the underside of your jaw as you scoot closer towards him and he chuckles, nose wrinkling at your insistent kisses but submitting all the same.

Your mind is blank, razor-focused on one thing and you don’t even remember your own name before your lungs screech for air and you suck in a deep breath through your nose, tearing yourself away despite their lips nearly refusing to part. Your mouth opens and inhale sharply, hands pulling through his hair. His chin tilts up and you blink, looking at him through the fuzzy dots in your vision and the gleam of his golden eyes, arrogance and tenderness in its very definition, douses you in cold water.

Jerking back, your hand flies to your lips, fingers brushing where he had claimed you moments before. Your thoughts are a scattered whirlwind and you swallow. Your breaths come rapid, your heart beating everywhere at once as you spin around, climbing over the balcony and back towards solid ground. Obi-Wan twists, confusion marring his face as he gets up and you whirl around. You feel like he’s set you on fire after a long winter left out to the elements and you’re incinerating.

You’re burning from the inside out. You’re thirsty, yearning for something to feast on. Your fingers itch to rip off clothes, slash apart a droid, do anything to work out the energy that’s beginning to fizzle in your chest.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” you whisper, voice cracking, and you look up at him forlornly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Why not?”

“Because—because—“ Yet with every second, you find your logic failing as you look at him. His hair is dishevelled—your doing—and he runs a hand through the golden strands as he waits for your answer but you’re starting to think you don’t have one.

After all, no one will ever know besides them.

That’s what you told yourself when they were Padawans. You fail to think of any difference now.

Obi-Wan stands there expectantly and your hands rake over your head, glancing around. There is no one but the sound of late-night traffic and the night.

Eyes sliding shut, you feel something inside you give like a fragile foundation finally slipping in the sand.

His kiss is like a toxin, still scorching through you, and something inside you tightens as you open your eyes again and see him standing there, expression so much like the old Obi-Wan that your heart aches.

Your hand drops. You look at Obi-Wan in his dark robes, and decide.

You can’t take it anymore. You will love a ghost. You’d rather do that than die lonely.

Walking over to him with a decisiveness you feel like you’ve lost since he’s crashed into your life, you take Obi-Wan’s face in your hands and pull him into your kiss.

He kisses back immediately, his hands finding your jaw and your eyes squeeze shut as your hands slide down his neck, find his shoulders and their lips meet again and again, drunk off the mere touch of their bodies. You find the buckle of his belt, undoing it with ease and the clank of his lightsaber hitting the ground along with the rest of the leather makes you grin against his persistent mouth. He kisses the corner of your mouth before nudging your chin up with his nose. His hands slide down your shoulders, hooking on your robes and sliding them down your arms with a slow, seductive intention that sends shivers up your spine.

Letting your arms drop, you let him guide the robe to a pool around your feet before breaking the kiss to look down at your belt but he grabs your jaw, tilting your head up and their mouths slot together again. With his free hand, he undoes the buckle with practiced ease and your lightsaber joins his on the ground before they sink to the floor in unison, their knees against cold stone, their lips never parting. A fire scorches between their mouths and you know that you have never felt more at home than the moment Obi-Wan’s hands find your waist.

His hand slides to the small of your back, scooping you up and lying you flat against the pavement as you find the waist of his trousers, tugging down insistently. Their breaths mix in desperation as their foreheads press together. Their lips part just enough for you to look down and he kisses your brow, your cheeks, cranes his head to find your ear as you run your hands over the front of his pants, feel something warm and hard against your palm.

A quivering sigh against your neck makes your stomach flutter as the hand on your back slides to your hip, squeezing the flesh there. Boots sliding along the ground, you let out a tiny whimper when soft lips suck on the flesh of your throat, teasing you with tiny nips. His hand goes under your long tunic, finding the hem of your trousers and a warm index finger traces the rim, tip gently brushing along the sliver of bare skin there.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your hands trail up his sides and wrap around his back.

Their foreheads are still pressed together when his eyes flicker from your body to your face.

“Are you sure?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Yes. I’m—I’m sure.”

“Stop me. Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as his cold skin meets the warm flesh of your thighs.

“I’ve never been afraid of you, Obi-Wan,” you murmur achingly, eyes beginning to sting. His eyes flash to yours and you smile to yourself, slithering a hand to his face and cupping his jaw. Your thumb brushes over his lips. “Even after all this time, I’ve only loved you until I’ve hated you and… I have never stopped caring about you. I became a Jedi in your honour, you know? I did what I thought you would’ve done, because you are good, Obi. I know it.” You tilt his head against yours. Their noses clash and their lips brush, and you can’t help but close your eyes as your fingers card through his hair. “You’re still in there and I will never be afraid of you, but I am afraid for your future. For ours.”

“Ours?” he echoes and you nod against him.

“Ours.”

“What—what do you mean?”

There it is. That split-second of hopefulness in his voice, the sound of the first sun after the darkest winter. You’d give anything to pull the sun out of the shadows. Even the Jedi Order.

“Ours if we make it through this. Ours when I renounce the Code and join you.” Curling your fingers in his hair, you feel your heart splinter into two, wilt like a flower in the winter rain and when the first droplet lands against your nose, you know he’s struggling to hold his tears in.

Your eyes open. Pressing a brief, soft kiss against his mouth, you gently brush his tears away.

“I will leave the Order for you if you leave the Sith for me. When we kill the Chancellor, we will disappear and live the life we deserve. That’s what scares me.” His eyes search yours and you smile, his beard tickling at your palms. He raises his arms until his elbows are by your head and he props himself up, lacing his fingers atop your head and shielding you from the world. His body pressed against yours, you can’t help the tentative smile on your face.

“Why?”

“Because we’re so close to it,” you tell him. “Because, for the first time, it seems so real. We’re just within reach.” You sigh, studying his face, his scar, the shape of his eyebrows. All tiny things, yet they mean the world to you.

“What happened to never seeing me again?” he asks in a faux smug airiness and you wrinkle your nose, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sniff, trying to ignore the burning in your eyes but when you look at Obi-Wan, you swear you can see the first hint of blue in his eyes. The first hint of day breaking through the night.

“A kiss or two changed my mind.” You tilt your head to the night, letting the bracing wind take your tears away. You think nothing of this night has been romantic, from what’s been said to what’s happening now.

Yet, you wouldn’t change a thing from this.

You’d rather have this mess than a fantasy—have this broken man silently letting tears slip down his face than anything else.

Tears smeared all over his cheeks, Obi-Wan sniffs and tries to clear his throat but fails miserably as you draw your hand across his face. He cradles your face in one of his own hands, swiping a thumb beneath your eye and you smile.

“I love you,” he whispers hoarsely, quietly, and you lift your head up to kiss him softly, again, assuredly. “Please. Please don’t wake me up.”

“I’m alive, don’t worry. This isn’t a dream.” You tilt your chin up to kiss between his eyebrows and the delicate scrunch of his brow makes you warm. “And I love you, too.” His hands holding your face begin to tremble as if he’s afraid that one moment, you will disappear like a ghost but you let your hands drop, press palms against his knuckles so that he steadies and smile up at Obi-Wan. “I’m here.”

“So many of my nightmares end like this.” His voice breaks as he ducks his head into your chest, forehead to your heartbeat. “I don’t want to wake up. I never do.” You wonder if he hears the distinct shattering of your heart at his words.

Folding your fingers over the spaces between his, you draw his hands away from your face and press a long kiss to his fingers.

His grip only tightens as he lifts his head again and rests it on your shoulder. Their hands part only for you to wrap your arms around his chest and for his to bend around your head again, sheltering you from the world around them.

The traffic is quieter now, nothing but your heart and his beating in tandem and the soft breaths that come only after tears are shed. His weight is suffocatingly warm and you bury your face into his neck, let his beard tickle at your eyes.

“This is real, Obi-Wan.”

You never want to leave him again.

“Anakin, let me begin by saying that you cannot interrupt me in the middle of me talking.”

“Do you think I’m six?”

A levelling look. A loud sigh.

“Okay, fine. I won’t interrupt you.”

“You better not.” You slip your hands into your sleeves, perching on the balustrade of Padmé’s balcony. It’s the only place you can think of that you trust to be completely absent of eavesdroppers. “First: Obi-Wan’s alive.”

Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up and he frowns faintly. “I thought we established that.”

“And I know for certain he is the Sith apprentice we’re searching for.” Guiltily, you lower your eyes to the ground as Anakin approaches, the frown ever growing. ”I met with him. Multiple times, actually.”

“Master—“

“He came to me first,” you say, holding up a hand. “I didn’t know until he came to me and I met him again on Yavin 4. Again, he followed me there.”

“Sounds like you have a fan.”

Sending him a wry look, you sit upright. “Funny. But I met him two nights ago.” Because all of yesterday was spent in my own apartment, trying to reconcile the possibility of a future with the man I’ve been in love with since I was sixteen. But that’s neither here nor there. “He told me what he wanted.”

“Which is?”

“Anakin…” You raise your gaze to your old apprentice and sigh, standing up. A thoughtful expression is etched onto his face. At times, you can’t help but think maybe you should’ve exercised or demonstrated more patience with him. It seemed like you only exacerbated his natural proclivity for recklessness. Other times, like now, you think you did a pretty damn good job. “Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord we are searching for.”

Anakin’s countenance drops and his mouth opens, trying to argue but you quickly continue.

“No one can know better than his apprentice,” you tell him. Reaching out for his shoulder, a cold feeling settles in your gut when Anakin jerks out of your reach, brushing past you with a stony expression. “Anakin—“

“How do we know you can trust this Obi-Wan?” he points out. “He could easily be using you, manipulating you to get what he wants.” Turning to watch him go, your eyebrows knit together. “Master, whatever you think he feels for you, he could be lying.”

That stings. It stings more than you thought it would and you saw it coming from miles away.

“Have you not stopped to consider the same thing applies to the Chancellor? Anakin, I know you and the Council have never seen eye-to-eye regarding your relationship with Palpatine, but Obi-Wan isn’t lying.”

“How do you know?” he repeats.

“I just do.”

“That’s not good enough! Have you told anyone else about this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, great. So we’re going off the Sith Lord’s apprentice’s lead. That’s real trustworthy.”

“Anakin, if you don’t trust him, trust me.”

“I do trust you, Master. I’m just afraid that your mind is clouded.” Anakin’s eyes meet yours and a lightning current shoots down your spine at the graveness in his face. He looks much older than his years and you’re more than aware that the longer this war continues, the more exhausted they both will be.

“Anakin…” Then, you remember the weight of his secret. You wonder if that adds to it—if the burden of carrying the love for a certain senator drags him by the ankles. You understand that. You just wish Anakin knew that you would understand.

“I’m sorry, Master, but what does he want? This can’t be out of the goodness of his heart.”

“He wants to kill the Chancellor. That’s it. The Republic won’t fall beneath the weight of this war.”

“That’s it? That can’t be right. He must want something in return—“

“In return, I leave the Jedi Order,” you cut him off quickly, trying to rip the band-aid off. It doesn’t work because the colour drains from Anakin’s face and your heart wilts in your chest. Regret knots in your chest as he walks up to you and opens his mouth to argue, hands reaching for your shoulders. You raise your hands, stopping him. “It’s a done deal. I’m leaving on my own accord.”

“Master… you can’t. You can’t just—“

“You and I both know it’s more than possible,” you shoot back. Your words come out cold, flat, and you wish he could’ve found out any other way, but life is rarely, if ever, perfect. Anakin’s blue eyes search your face for answers you do not have and it must be something in how you say it but realization soon dawns upon him.

“You love him.”

“He loves me, too,” you reply quietly. “It is, I assume, not dissimilar to how you feel for Padmé.” You smile faintly and reach up, cupping his face. “I’ve never been blind to that, Anakin.” Sputtering, your old friend tries to come up with some excuse but you merely shake your head. “Once this war is over, Obi-Wan and I will leave Coruscant. That was our deal. And we need your help to do it.”

“My help?” The words come out strangled and you nod. “How?”

“The Chancellor trusts you. Get us into his office, and we will do the rest. You can leave the room, deny responsibility, do whatever you need to. The Council must not connect you to this.”

“But—“

“Anakin, you have the potential to be a great Jedi Master, if not the greatest. With my spot on the Council opening up, who knows? Your part in this may push you in the right direction.” Glossy azure eyes fix on yours and you hold Anakin’s face in your hands before resting your palms on his shoulders. “I’m more than willing to do this if it means this war ends and don’t worry. You’ve grown into a great Jedi. Greater than any other I’ve known. There’s no more I can teach you that you won’t learn yourself.”

“It doesn’t feel like it, Master.”

“It’ll always feel like that. We never stop learning, but that’s how life is. Don’t worry.” You squeeze his shoulders. “There won’t ever be a goodbye between us, Ani. Only a temporary parting.”

“But you’re leaving.” And just like that, he is nine again and you are twenty-five, crouching in front of a young blond boy from Tatooine as you tell him you will be his Master, prove your own Master wrong. Newly made Knight and desperate to please, you were determined to give Anakin a life he didn’t have to worry about never seeing his mother again, nor money, nor hunger. Pain, anger, fear.

You know you failed.

Still, you tried. That, you decide, must count for something.

“And you are staying. I have never, never, wanted to leave you Anakin, but I believe in you. I know you are the change the Order needs and if I can’t be here to see it…” You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe one day. One day we will return and I will see you as the Master I know you can be.”

A weak attempt of a smile on Anakin’s part.

“I’d welcome you back with open arms, Master. No matter what.”

You force a grin onto your own face and pull him into your arms. Immediately, he embraces you and you hold him tight, eyes closing. His face buries into your neck and you cradle the back of his head like you did when he was younger, a boy tainted by nightmares, and you know soon, you won’t be able to do this again. Hug your family… hug someone who has become your son when he’s scared.

“I’ll help you,” he finally whispers into your shoulder and your arms tighten around him. His voice may be muffled but it doesn’t manage to stop the everflowing sadness. “Just tell me when and where and I will be there.”

“Okay.” You draw back and hold his face in your hands, smiling still. Your eyes refuse to shed the tears burning there so instead, you just… stand in his presence for a moment longer until they have to part.

“Darling.” Obi-Wan stands when he spots you approaching their meeting spot on the roof again and you stop in front of him, pulling your hood down. “And your old Padawan?”

“He’ll help,” you murmur. “He’ll alert us through the comlink when he’s in position, then this assassination attempt will go through.” Disgust curls at your tongue and you shake your head. “I still don’t like this plan.”

“Why?”

“Because it seems too easy.” You cross your arms over your chest. “We just go in there, you cut off his head, and what? How do you explain this death? The fallout of this will be torrential.” Looking out over the city, you sigh. “What will we say?”

“Say that I was his assassin,” Obi-Wan says, joining you near the edge of the roof. “The Jedi tried to stop me but were too late.”

“That still paints us as failures.”

“Then what will you have me do? There is no alternative that doesn’t paint the Order as murderers. I know that isn’t what you want.” His eyebrows rise. “Is it?”

You scowl. ”No.” Thinking, you add on, “Couldn’t we say we struck you down? Eliminate the threat all together.” Eyes lighting up, you look at Obi-Wan. His eyes, a strange mixture of gold swirling with blue, squint in confusion. “Obviously, you won’t actually be dead, but I think people won’t think twice looking at you if you’re supposed to be dead. The Jedi Council said so.”

Realization: “Ah. Faking my death.”

You nod. “Exactly. If we settle on some planet and someone recognizes you, well, that’s impossible. You’re dead. The Jedi are very rarely wrong.”

“You’re quite clever, you know.”

“It’s honestly a wonder you haven’t thought of it yourself,” you reply. He smirks and you roll your eyes as he gently takes your shoulders and places a tender kiss upon your forehead. Something inside you melts at the touch. His nose presses into your scalp and their eyes close before you pull back and take hold of his hand. He’s warm to the touch.

Raising your other hand to flit over the scar crossing his face, you feel the sunken edges carefully. His eyes flutter shut and you run over his nose. It’s caused a small chasm in the structure of his face but you find that you can’t fault him for it. It’s become a part of him—a mark of his history. It may be a mistake in some eyes—not fast enough, not strong enough, not good enough—but to you, it’s simply a reminder that Obi-Wan is human. That he’s alive.

He’s alive. You still marvel at that. “You’ll have to tell me the story of this some day.”

He smiles and the scar stretches with it. It’s somehow endearing. “Some day,” he agrees. “As well as many others.”

“Sounds like a date.” You squeeze his hand just as the comlink beeps and you grab it from your pocket. “Anakin?”

“I’m ready. Ahsoka’s speaking to the Council as we do.”

“Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan questions.

“His Padawan,” you explain quickly. “Good. Keep your link on. We’ll mute ourselves from here on out.” Sending a nod to Obi-Wan, the two begin the plan. Clipping the rope to their waist, you wrap the end around a pipe, giving it an experimental tug as Obi-Wan looks over the edge of the building. Soon, they’ll be scaling down to the maintenance room and managing a way into the ventilation system.

“You know, if I thought we were speaking to the Council of this, I would’ve packed my fancy robes,” he calls dryly and you shoot him a glare to be quiet but he merely tips over the edge of the building and you suppress a groan,. The height makes you a bit woozy but you turn your back to the ground, grabbing onto the rope and slowly lowering yourself until they’re scooting down the side of the building together.

“Master Windu trusts my judgement, and better than we tell them when they can’t stop us,” you retort. Swinging out of the way of a window, the two glance at one another. “Sorry I didn’t tell about that. Didn’t think it was quite so imperative, what with the fact that we’re overthrowing a dictatorship tonight.”

“I don’t mind. At least I found out before Master Windu showed up out of the blue and decided to splice me in half for being anywhere near your vicinity.”

You barely contain a retort as they continue down.

Are you really doing this? Are you about to assassinate the Supreme Chancellor with a man you long thought dead?

Yes, a quiet voice replies, you are. And then, you will run.

They manage to crawl into the vent, him first, you second, and you’re stuck trying to avoid staring at Obi-Wan’s ass as they inch forward towards the Chancellor’s office. It’s not the most dignified position to find a Jedi and a Sith apprentice in, but alas—one must do what they do to rid the galaxy of tyranny.

Besides, you’re pretty sure the arrogance radiating off of Obi-Wan means about a million jokes will stem from this.

They stop when they are just above the office, Obi-Wan crawling over the tiny gap and turning around so they can both peer down the vent. You manage to unhook your saberstaff, breaking it into the two separate sabers, clutching each in tight hands as you listen in on the conversation below.

You aren’t even aware that your nails are digging into your thumbs before a gentle hand brushes over yours.

Relax, Obi-Wan’s voice orders gently in your mind. Remember—I do all the dirty work.

That doesn’t omit my part in this, Obi-Wan, you shoot back but your fists relax anyway and his hand withdraws. Everything inside of you is tense when you hear a voice.

“Anakin, what a surprise. What brings you to my office at so late an hour?”

“I wanted to talk to you about these dreams I’ve been having. I… I trust you and I’m not sure if it’s real or not.”

Just a little more.

Obi-Wan, are you sure he’s the Sith Lord?

Why are you having doubts now of all times? Your eyes flash to his and he glares back. I’m sure. I wouldn’t lie to you.

A sharp nod.

You spot Anakin’s figure approach and then the Chancellor, meeting just below and your fingers tighten around your sabers.

“What dreams?”

“Dreams of the Sith Lord that caused this war.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I believe I know who he is.”

The Supreme Chancellor’s eyes shoot up and he regards the Jedi Knight with a strange mix of confusion and suspicion.

“I’m sorry, Chancellor Palpatine.”

Anakin’s eyes flash up to the vent and Obi-Wan sends you a nod. You send your sabers into the grate, melting it off its hinges and letting the metal clamor to the ground before Obi-Wan jumps out, landing behind the Sith Lord who whirls around.

Activating his lightsaber, Obi-Wan stares at his former Master with a cruel snarl to his lips. You jump after him, twirling your yellow sabers as you stand behind him.

The contrast is near blinding.

“General Y/L/N.” The Chancellor has never sounded more unforgiving as he looks from you to Obi-Wan. “I believe you have a job to do. Kill this assassin.” You stare at the man who’s feigned warmth and kindness to the entire galaxy and you wait for his head to start rolling but when Obi-Wan doesn’t move, frozen, knuckles white as he clutches onto his saber, your eyes dart to his form.

“Obi-Wan,” you whisper. His gaze snaps to yours and for a moment, you don’t even recognize the man behind it. His golden eyes peer at you curiously and then he twirls his saber with a practiced motion, turning back to the Chancellor.

Palpatine frowns.

The vibrating hum of another lightsaber igniting joins the buzzing symphony and Anakin raises his blue lightsaber with a harsh, cracking expression upon his handsome features.

“By Jedi law, you must arrest me. Surely you won’t let him murder me in cold blood, Anakin,” Chancellor Palpatine says, glancing back at your old Padawan and hesitation flickers across his features. “Surely your Master taught you better.”

Anakin’s eyes flicker to yours. You are silent in return.

“This is treason.”

“What you have done to the Republic is treason,” you correct icily. “You do not deserve the luxury of a fair trial.”

It happens so quick. Palpatine reaches into his robes and there is a flash of red before the smell of burning flesh rises. A hand drops to the floor with a sick slap and a lightsaber rolls. Anakin sticks out a hand, letting the hilt fly into his hand and he deactivates it with a quick flourish as Palpatine keens over, clutching at his stump of a wrist.

Obi-Wan raises his lightsaber from the Chabcellor’s arm to his neck.

“I am finished with your manipulations, Sidious,” he murmurs lowly, and then, with one great, unfaltering swing, he decapitates the Sith Lord and lets the head roll.

There is no blood. The lightsaber burns too hot for there to be any and you can only smell the shit and piss as an old man dies.

Obi-Wan’s harsh pants are the only sound as the body drops and you deactivate your lightsabers. Anakin does the same as you step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and another on the trembling fingers that wrap so tightly around the hilt of his saber.

“Obi-Wan.” His name passes by your lips softly, like a caress, and he drags his gaze from the dead Chancellor to your face. “It’s over.” Eyes fluttering shut, he lets you pull him tight against you, their foreheads knocking together as his lightsaber deactivates with a whomsh.

Your name passes by his lips in a soft breath and he cups your face just as doors open and he springs away from you. You grab his hand, tugging him behind you just as Master Windu and the rest of the Council walk in, and his hand tightens around yours as Anakin pivots around.

Ahsoka steps out, panting, her eyes wide.

“I tried to stop them—“

“Ahsoka, please.” You step forward, letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand but he tugs you back. Glancing at him, you smile. “Let me handle this.” His eyes search yours and you give him a nod of assurance before he finally lets go and you step towards the Council, past Anakin who wants to speak but you grab his arm gently, stopping him. “Master Windu.”

“General Y/L/N. Would you care to explain why the dead Chancellor’s body laid at your feet?”

“He was the Sith Lord orchestrating the war. Doubt there’s any other reason.” You meet your old Master’s eyes. “Master Windu, know that this is all my doing, and mine alone. Anakin had no part in this and neither did Ahsoka. She just found out and told you about our plot. I don’t want them to be punished.”

“That remains to be decided.”

“‘Our’?” Kit Fisto inquires.

You sigh, eyes fluttering to the floor. “Obi-Wan and I. It was our plot, together.”

“With the Sith, you conspired?” Yoda questions and you open your mouth to argue but you catch Ki-Adi’s shaking head and something inside you sinks.

“Look, he was manipulated. He’s not Sith. Not anymore. That man”—you point at Palpatine’s body— “was the Sith Lord we were all searching for and Obi-Wan led us straight to him.” Stone-cold silence. Your shoulders fall and the adrenaline that had burned through you drains away, leaving you oddly exhausted. “I understand if you wish to charge me with any crime against the Republic. Sedition or otherwise.”

“Obi-Wan is the one who killed the Chancellor, Master Windu. Master Y/L/N had nothing—“

“Anakin, don’t,” you cut him off quietly. “It’s not worth it to pretend otherwise.”

Anakin’s frustrated glare meets yours but you only smile at him and shake your head. Facing the Council again, you wait for one of them to speak. Master Windu’s unimpressed glare goes from Palpatine to you, and you only look at your former Master with raised eyebrows.

“What proof is there?”

“Nothing more than my memories, Master Windu, and a few recordings,” Obi-Wan speaks for the first time and eyes dart to the man as he steps forward into line with you. “I will submit those if you need them. Attempt to arrest me, however, and I will not go willingly. I’ve renounced the Jedi Order, as well as the Sith way. That, I can assure you of.”

“Master Yoda, your thoughts?” Master Windu asks, turning to the Grandmaster. A hand presses against the small of your back and you turn to Obi-Wan who watches with a stony glare. However, when he turns his gaze in towards you, something softens and you step closer to him.

“Upon the former Padawan, the dark side still lingers. Unsure of what to make of it, I am,” he admits and your hand finds Obi-Wan’s back, your other hand hovering by your lightsaber. No matter what, you are not leaving him alone in this.

“However this looks to the Republic is my greatest concern,” Ki-Adi murmurs. “To see a Jedi Master conspiring with the Sith—”

“Then manipulate the truth,” you argue. “That has never stopped the Jedi before. It didn’t stop them from completely erasing what happened twenty years ago and it can happen again.” Your hand drops from your saber and you send Master Windu a pleading look. “Say Obi-Wan was struck down, say he escaped, say anything but what happened. The only truth that needs to come out is that Chancellor Palpatine orchestrated the Clone Wars and with him gone, we might be able to find some semblance of peace again.”

The Council look at one another. Anakin and Ahsoka, standing side by side look to you.

War is rarely that simple.

“I forfeit every right, privilege, and rank I have achieved in the Grand Army of the Republic. I renounce my status as a Jedi Master.”

“You understood that you are barred from the Jedi Order henceforth?”

“I understand.”

Master Windu’s expression softens for his old Padawan and you could’ve sworn there was something darker, something breaking, as if he himself felt for you turning to someone else for the help he could not give.

You want to tell him it has never been his fault.

You don’t. Instead, you ask one last time for your own sanity: “And Obi-Wan? What of his records?”

A bitter, coy smile resides on his face: “Who?”

Satisfied yet curiously empty, you walk out of the Jedi Temple, to where Anakin, Ahsoka, Padmé, and Obi-Wan await. There are tickets and bare necessities for them to make a fresh start in a bag slung over Obi’s shoulder. There’ll probably be a speeder waiting for them at the base of the steps, waiting to take them to their new transport arranged courtesy of the Senator of Naboo herself and then… then who knows where to next.

You suppose that’s part of the excitement of it all.

You feel naked, stripped bare. You no longer wear the tan neutrals of the Jedi. Instead, a leather vest covers you, a shirt tucked into brown pants and paired with Obi-Wan, they look nothing more than smugglers. A cloak is draped over your shoulders and clasped at your throat, one you tug closer around yourself as you approach.

Obi-Wan extends a hand to you and you take it numbly, letting him kiss your knuckles.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” You squeeze his hand and he nods. “Wait for me at the bottom?”

“Always.” He lets go and his eyes turn to the others. “I appreciate your aid.”

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” The words sound strangled coming from Anakin’s mouth. The two look at one another and you think, in another life, they could’ve been good friends. “Take care of her. Please.”

But that is not how it is now. Instead, Obi-Wan merely dips his head again, once to Anakin, and then to Padmé and Ahsoka before climbing down the steps of the Jedi Temple.

You watch him go until he is out of sight, your eyes lingering even after, before you turn around to feel Ahsoka launching herself into your arms. Eyebrows shooting up, you embrace the Padawan tightly, eyes closing shut and then two more bodies pile in closely.

Shaggy hair and floral scents—Anakin and Padmé.

“I’m going to miss you all so much,” you whisper, raising a hand to cradle the back of Anakin’s head and another to hold onto Padmé’s shoulder. “You don’t understand how much you mean to me.”

“If it’s anything close to how much you mean to us, I might have some idea,” Padmé says. She kisses your cheek, a tiny blush on her cheeks. “Stay safe, Y/N.”

“I will. And you, too. Make sure this one over here protects you,” you say with a sharp nudge to Anakin who winces, running a hand through his hair with a brash grin. Ahsoka, with her arms still around you, looks up and you rest a hand on her shoulder. “And you, little one, make sure you take care of your Master. He’s a lot. Make sure he’s not too in over his head.”

Ahsoka laughs much to Anakin’s irritation and even Padmé breaks a smile, poking the Knight teasingly. “I promise, Master.”

“I think,” you correct with a sombering smile, “that you should get used to calling me Y/N. I’m not a Jedi Master anymore.” Ahsoka’s expression falters and you squeeze her closer, cradling her head against you. Anakin’s downcast face catches your eye and you look up at him, finding blue eyes watching.

“You will always be my greatest teacher,” Anakin murmurs. “I just wish there was another way.”

“But there isn’t, and I’ll miss you more than you know, Ani,” you reply. “You will never fail to make me proud.” Letting go of Ahsoka, you reach forward, hugging him tightly once again. His arms wrap around you and he seems to sink against your frame, shoulders dropping, head buried into the crook of your neck and you close your eyes, knowing the torment that rips him in two. Patting his hair, you let him hold you as long as he needs to.

It’s not until Padmé touches his arm gently that he remembers to pull away and you cup his face, brushing your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. Then, looking into his face, a face you’ve seen everyday for the past decade and now a face you don’t know for how long you’ll have to wait until you see again, you can feel two hands take your heart and tear it like paper, into uncountable bits.

Tilting his head down, you press a kiss to his brow. Then, with one final squeeze to Padmé’s hand and a squish of Ahsoka’s cheeks which she takes only because you don’t know when they will see each other again, you pull away.

“I’ll be okay, guys.” Trying to joke, you force one last smile upon your face. “You can at least look like you’ll see me again.”

“We’ll see you again,” Ahsoka decides. “The Force wills it so.”

“I hope it does.”

You pull your hood over your head and turn around, descending down the steps and leaving your old life behind.

They nestle between two ginormous crates. The captain’s paid to turn a blind eye in exchange that they take up minimal space and don’t cause problems. That’s easy for them—they’re heading to Tatooine and from then, who knows? Maybe somewhere cooler, wetter, snowier. They’ll decide when they want to.

You rip apart a piece of bread and hand it over to Obi-Wan, resting your head on his shoulder. Your arm is looped through his and he takes your offering, swishing it down with spotchka. You chew on your own piece, their fingers interlacing and their boots knock together playfully.

For some reason, it makes you feel like a Padawan again—stealing moments, sharing secret smiles. In the darkness only fractured by a sliver of white light, the two are lost in each other’s eyes.

Raising your head from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, you look at his side profile again, the sharp lines of his jaw, the fine ginger-blonde of his beard. His nose and his eyebags and that scar—

“You still need to tell me that story,” you murmur, and he turns his head, swallowing with a quirked eyebrow. “Of your scar. We could trade.”

“You have scars I don’t know about?” he asks mischievously, and you roll your eyes, struggling not to laugh as his lips sneak a kiss. Reciprocating, you can’t help but wrinkle your nose at the taste of spotchka on his mouth. Maker, the stuff is not your cup of tea. Obi-Wan seems to note your reaction because he pulls away, kissing your eyes and between your eyebrows before pulling back. “Not a drinker, are you?”

“Oh, I am.” You try not to pull the face that’s so desperately begging you to come out. “Just… not something I’m used to tasting.”

“Well, we still have time.” He blinks, returning to the rest of the food they have laid out in between them in their tiny tin containers, and you sigh, just watching him. With every passing moment, you just see more and more of the Obi-Wan you think he could’ve grown to be. The fissures are barely covered by dry jokes and thin smiles, but still, you can see where the dark side had shattered him in to pieces.

No matter. You suppose that this is where their life together begins. Building each other up again.

He catches you staring as he pulls a grape off its stem and pops it into his mouth.

“What is it?” he asks curiously, amused, and you say nothing, brushing hair out of his eyes and marvelling at the gentle blueness that stares back at you. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” you whisper. “Not at all. I love you.”

He smiles. “I love you, too. This isn’t a dream?”

You shake your head. “This isn’t a dream.”

And he kisses you.

1K notes · View notes

prettyboyreid · 4 years

Text

late nights

Spencer is a lot more tired than usual, and Morgan gets suspicious about it.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 3,335

inspired by this post by @andiebeaword

Spencer dragged himself into the nearly empty bullpen of the BAU, instantly making a beeline for the kitchenette. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw that a fresh pot of coffee had just been made, taking his favorite mug out of the cabinet before pouring the hot beverage in. He grabbed a canister of sugar before pouring much more than necessary into his drink, stirring it around to let it dissolve before he heard an all-too-familiar voice pop up behind him.

“Easy there, tough guy. Have some coffee with your sugar,” Morgan said from behind him, heading to the cabinet to get his own mug to have some coffee. Spencer rubbed at his eye tiredly with the heel of his hand, adding a bit more sugar before stirring it once again.

“I need something to wake me up,” he simply replied, leaning against the counter as he blew carefully onto the hot drink so as not to spill any of it. He could practically hear the grin from his partner as he made his way to the coffee machine to make his own drink.

“Late night?” Derek asked, glancing over at him as he made his way closer to him to make himself a cup of coffee to help make it through another exhausting yet exciting day at work.

“Very,” he nodded softly, picking his mug up before carefully taking a sip of the scalding hot liquid.

“My man!” Morgan beamed, clapping his hand over the smaller boy's shoulder. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he felt his hand hit one of the few rough scratches left on his back, hoping his friend would just assume it was because he didn’t like being touched - which he didn’t.

“Not that kind of late night,” he lied, shrugging his hand off of his shoulder before fixing his collar slightly with a roll of his eyes. His friend only hummed, pouring his coffee quickly before following after the doctor.

“Alright then, tell me: what does keep young Dr. Reid awake at night?” he asked with a chuckle, beginning to ramble off a few guesses that normally would keep him awake. This time, however, had been much, much different.

“Spence, come on, it’s one more episode,” she begged of him, her hand wrapped around his wrist as he tried to get up from her couch.

“We both have work in the morning, and it’s already midnight, Y/N,” he groaned, glancing down at her as she pleaded for him to stay just a little longer. He watched as she let her eyes widen and her bottom lip pout, huffing before sitting next to her.

“Only one more,” he grumbled softly, folding his arms across his chest in a fake mocking frown as she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. She pressed play and a new episode of Doctor Who began, cuddling up to her boyfriend and resting her head on his shoulder as his focus stayed on the large television screen in her living room.

Her attention, however, soon diverted to her boyfriend, one of her arms wrapping around his while the other rested high on his thigh. His hand was resting on her knee, and he just squeezed it with a bit of a grin at the sudden motion. She glanced up at him to see if she had gotten a reaction out of him (anything at all would have been sufficient), but his features were stoic, focused only on the first doctor.

She had let her hand travel a little more inward, inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, just to see how far she would be able to take it before he did something.

Her hand had nearly reached his belt buckle that glimmered in the soft light of her living room before his much larger one wrapped around her smaller wrist, pulling it back before looking down at her.

“What’re you doing?” he asked coyly, almost as if he genuinely was confused by the situation at hand. He looked down at her with a slightly raised eyebrow, his grip barely loosening on her so he didn’t hurt her.

“Oh, just… trying to make this episode more interesting, that’s all,” she replied, taking her boyfriend’s chin between her thumb and forefinger before carefully turning it back towards the screen.

“Don’t pay attention to me, Spence…” she started, pressing a soft kiss below his ear before letting her mouth travel down his neck. “...Just watch the show.” Her voice on his skin sent soft vibrations through his body, causing him to swallow whatever sound he wanted to let out before resting his head on the back of the couch.

She trailed her lips across his neck for about five more minutes before he felt her hands tugging at his belt buckle mindlessly. His hips bucked up a bit towards her touch, not noticing how tight his pants have felt until now. He craned his neck back slightly as he let out a quiet moan, his toes curling up in his mismatched socks as he stole a glance down at her before standing up. “C’mere,” he said softly, taking her hand before pulling her up from the sofa. He pressed a soft yet passionate kiss to her lips, his hands holding her cheeks as if he could pull her any closer to himself.

He smiled against her soft, plump lips, carefully backing up until he had reached her bedroom door. He reached behind him and pushed it open, guiding her in as well before closing it behind them. He laid her back onto the soft mattress decorated with the softest pillows and the smoothest blankets, carefully helping her pull her Cal-Tech t-shirt over her head before she slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt. His lips reattached to hers quickly, his own hands working at tugging her leggings down quickly, his hands as eager to roam her body as his eyes were to see it. He’d seen her naked before, and he had been blessed with an eidetic memory so he’d never forget what she looked like. But each time he saw her, naked or not, it was almost an out of body experience. To say she took his breath away would be a gross understatement.

She pushed the soft blue material off his shoulders before tossing it off towards his hamper, her hands traveling down his chest before unbuckling his belt. She shoved his trousers down his legs quickly, kissing him over and over again as she impatiently waited for more of his delicate touch that she craved so dearly.

He tugged his boxer briefs down quickly with one of his hands, the other grasping onto the top of her wooden headboard to give himself leverage. He practically ripped the lace panties off of his girlfriend (mumbling a quick stream of apologies into her mouth as he heard the flimsy fabric tear), lining himself up with her almost impatiently before he slowly pressed himself into her. He relished in the soft moans he was able to get out of her, his lips traveling down to her collar bone where he sucked softly on her supple skin.

Her nails instinctively gripped onto his bare back in order for her to ground herself, chewing on the inside of her cheek as he moved slowly at first, trying to allow her to adjust to the feeling. He looked down at her after he was as close to her as he possibly could be, wanting to make sure she was alright before he did anything else. She gave him a soft nod and a quick kiss on the lips. He nodded in return, slowly beginning to build up the pace of his hips pushing into her. She let out a soft groan at the sudden movement, her nails dragging down the soft skin of his back as he grasped tightly onto her hips.

“Fuck, Spence,” she breathed out, feeling his mouth move down towards her neck once again, relishing in the sounds of his breaths and the faint murmur of the television that had long been forgotten. She let one of her hands travel back up to his hair, knotting her fingers between the thin strands and tugging softly as he used his hand that was once on her hip to wrap her leg around her waist. She moaned quietly into the hot air of her apartment, his mouth biting and sucking on her collar bone before dragging his tongue across the fresh bruise to soothe any pain she would have.

Once her leg was around his waist, he let his hand travel up her stomach and towards her chest, not letting his hips falter as he wrapped his hand around her breast. He let out a soft groan as he felt her clench around him at his touch, rolling her nipple between his thumb and pointer finger before doing the same to the other. Her soft, angelic moans filled the small bedroom as he trailed his lips back to her mouth, kissing her roughly and passionately once again while he let his hand travel back down her body gently.

“Shit… shit, princess,” he grunted out, letting his fingers draw circles around her clit to try and push her closer to her release, wanting to make sure she reached her high before he reached his own.

“S-Spence, I’m close,” she whimpered beneath his touch, her nails digging into his skin hard enough she was almost positive she had drawn blood. She let her head fall back against the pillows that decorated her large bed, her eyes screwing shut as she felt her breaths becoming heavier and quicker. She let out a shaky sigh as she felt him tipping her head upward, letting him press a soft kiss to her forehead before speeding his hips up carefully.

“Eyes on me, angel. I wanna watch you when you come undone all over me,” he said softly, letting his own groans slip out between his words as his stomach tightened into knots. She looked up at him with blown pupils and lustful eyes, doing her best to keep her attention on him as she neared closer and closer to her release.

Once she finally came, she let out a string of moans and curses, her nails dragging all the way down his back as she felt her entire body tense up. Spencer followed in suit at the feeling of her tightening around him, letting out a soft grunt as he did his best to ride them both through their highs.

After a few moments, when he was sure her breathing was under control and she was alright, he rolled off of her carefully and laid next to her. She moved herself quickly so she could cuddle up next to him, resting her head on his pale, slightly sweaty chest before letting out a soft sigh.

“Any chance I can convince you to come over tomorrow night?”

“No, no, no, I’ve got it: watching Star Trek… and laughing at all of the physics mistakes,” Derek guessed again with his usual teasing grin. Spencer almost bit his tongue, dared not say anything, but he could never pass up any opportunity to correct Derek Morgan.

“Actually, there aren’t that many outright errors in Star Trek, especially if you consider how long ago it was made,” he said, sipping on his coffee to try to distract himself from the memories from last night he would never be able to forget. “There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors,” Spencer explained, leaving Derek with a dumbfounded expression before he simply nodded.

“...Right,” he said, shaking his head before heading back to his desk. Spencer made his way back to his own desk, sitting down in the plush chair as he set the coffee mug down beside a framed picture of him and his mother. He looked up once he heard the clacking of heels across the floor of the bullpen, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watched JJ’s new assistant stride across the room and towards the conference room.

“We’ve got a new case,” Y/N announced, holding up the few files she had to distribute to the team members before she disappeared into the round table room.

Spencer let out a huff as he grabbed his mug once again, taking a sip of it as he grabbed his leather messenger bag and followed their newest addition to the team to the room.

“Y/N, I’m going to be late,” Spencer chuckled softly as she pressed soft kisses across his face, checking the time on his watch as he did his best to fix his tie in the mirror. “They’re expecting me down at the police station in fifteen minutes. I’m supposed to carpool with Derek,” he grumbled, glancing down at her despite only being able to see the top of her head.

“They’re expecting both of us, and JJ already left with Emily. I’ll just come down a little after you and ask to ride along with you,” she coaxed, tugging softly at the tie he had spent too long on before pulling his lips to her own.

They’d been able to keep their relationship a secret for over a year now. Y/N made sure she only interacted with him at work when she absolutely had to, especially once he started wearing his glasses more frequently. Whenever they were on the jet, Spencer always made sure his nose was buried in a book and he was sitting on the opposite end of the plane. Considering the lengths they went to avoid each other, most of the team had assumed they disliked each other.

He let out a quiet huff as she pushed a bit of hair out of his face, leaning down and pressing another kiss to her lips before pulling back. “Wait a minute before coming down. He said he was meeting me in the lobby,” he said, kissing the top of her head one last time before he grabbed his key card and slipped out the door.

She kept an eye on the clock on her phone before making her way out the door as well, taking the stairs down the hotel before entering the lobby.

“...Don’t tell me pretty boy had a little fun last night,” she heard Derek tease with a chuckle, leaving it to her imagination to see his devious smirk as he picked on the younger boy relentlessly.

“I didn’t, I was looking over the geographic profile and then thought maybe the trees had something to do with why the unsub leaves the victims in those specific spots, since they were all left under sequoia trees in the state park, but I figured that wouldn’t be a fair assumption since it’s the most common tree in said park,” Spencer rambled for a moment, doing his best to sell that he was doing anything besides having fun. (While it may have been fun according to Spencer’s standards, it definitely wasn’t in Derek’s books.)

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, player,” he teased, clapping his hand over the boy’s shoulder with a wide smile just as she had caught up with the pair.

“Derek!” she called out once she reached the front doors of the hotel he was about to walk through, fixing her skirt slightly as they stopped.

“Y/L/N, you good? I thought JJ left like thirty minutes ago,” he said, checking his watch before he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Yeah, uh, I slept through my alarm and missed a few calls from her and Emily, so they left a little while ago without me. Would you mind if I rode in with you?” she asked in an innocent, pleading voice, not that she needed it. Derek would’ve given you a ride without question or explanation, so he nodded in response.

“Sure, of course,” he said, leading her and Spencer out of the building. “Looks like you’ll have to sit in the back again, doc,” he said over his shoulder with a grin, which earned him a silent eye roll from Spencer. She couldn’t help but smile to herself at his response to his friends teasing, getting into the passenger seat before putting her seat belt on. Derek and Spencer both did the same, before Derek pulled out of the parking lot and drove off towards the station.

They all sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Derek cleared his throat, looking up at Spencer through the rearview mirror before looking over at me, not letting his gaze linger more than a few moments since he was driving.

“So, which one of you are going to tell me the real reason why you both coincidentally were late this morning and at least once a week for the past two months or do I have to make a bold assumption?” he asked, letting one of his hands rest in his lap while the other controlled the steering wheel easily. He kept his gaze on the road in front of him now, a tiny smirk apparent on his face as he did his best to hold back a laugh.

Spencer looked at the front passenger seat with furrowed brows before looking over at his best friend. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he asked the older man, fiddling with the strap of his bag as he looked between his two co-workers. Y/N could see Derek’s face turn pink as he held back his laughter.

“You’re kidding me, right, kid?” he asked, looking up at him in the rearview mirror once again. “You are the most punctual person I’ve ever met in my life, and the last two months you’ve been late to work at least four times. And you’ve been drinking more coffee than usual. It’s got to have replaced all the blood in your body at this point,” he said, before glancing over at me.

“And you, baby girl,” he started, grinning a little bit before reaching over and tugging the collar of her shirt down just enough to expose the bruises littered across the top of her chest but not enough to make them uncomfortable; from how he could see it, it looked like the top part of an ‘S’. “You’re not as sly as you’d think.” Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek as he looked between the two of them before slumping back in his seat.

“Does everybody know?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest as he watched his friend pull into the parking lot of the police department.

“Emily figured it out her first week here.” Spencer huffed out, doing the calculations in his head as he tried to find when exactly everyone else had found out.

“One hundred and sixty-four days,” Spencer groaned, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands before tugging his seat belt off and quickly getting out of the car. Y/N glanced over at Derek as he grinned deviously who was busy watching Spencer march into the building with a frown on his face.

“No one else really knew, did they?” she asked, holding back her own grin as she watched her boyfriend make his way through the glass doors frustratedly.

“Nah, but you guys could be a little more subtle when sneaking into each other's rooms. I am right across the hall, you know. I don’t need to hear you pleading for the good doctor to let you in for… whatever that was that kept you up all night,” he taunted, smiling a bit as he got out of the car. She couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh as she got out of the car and followed him in, running a hand back through her hair as she prepared herself for the day ahead despite how exhausted she was.

After all, she did have a late night.

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 4 years

Text

This Night is Sparkling, Don't You Let it Go

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,535

Warnings: Mentions of the Hiroshima atomic bombing

Summary: During a snow storm (at sea!), and, in an attempt to assuage the Doctor in a moment of boredom, you teach him how to fold an origami crane. Clara, meanwhile, plans a movie night.

A/N: Some important context - Reader is aware of and refers to the story of Sadako Sasaki and, because of this, reader also knows how to fold a paper crane.

It was snowing. At sea.

Your hands were curled around the railing of the ship, and you were standing on your tip toes, leaning forward and looking towards the sky in wonder. The Doctor pondered on whether you had ever actually seen snow at sea before, if you had ever consciously thought of it as a thing that happened. So many humans, he had found, had never realised it snowed at sea, which was strange to him.

Of course it snows at sea, he’d once told Albert Einstein, wearing a different face in a different life, the weather doesn’t just stop because there’s no land.

He thought about this, so he wouldn’t think of other things.

Like the way your eyes sparkled against the star light – there were so many stars here, and it had been far too long since the Doctor had seen Earth’s night sky without light pollution. Your eyes were bright, in that special way that was just so distinctly you. You held so much appreciation, so much joy, in everything the Doctor showed you, and it seemed to radiate off of you.

Hence how you were now, swaying with the ship and looking at the surrounding area with so much awe.

“This is magical,” you said softly, and the Doctor wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard it. He was sure that if he was human, he wouldn’t have.

He had to agree though, ‘magical’ certainly was the word for it.

The snow fell, painted into your hair, dusted across the bridge of your nose, and settled against your jacket. He wanted to reach out his hand and brush it off of you, swipe his thumb across your cheek and rest his palm against your jaw.

He turned away from you, swallowing harshly. These were the kind of thoughts he wasn’t supposed to be having.

You were human. Impossibly young, especially compared to him.

And yet…

The Doctor drummed his fingers against the railing, staring out at the view. From this angle, he couldn’t see anything else except the snow, dancing against the inky black sea.

He had known this would be something you would enjoy, which was part of the reason why he had decided to land on this ship. Monitoring the convoy was just an afterthought compared to the delight you now had over snow at sea.

It was harmless, wasn’t it? To do things that made you happy. He wanted everyone he cared for to be happy, not just you. Why, just last week (well, comparatively, since time was a relative construct to him), he had devoted an entire itinerary to things Clara wanted to do.

It had ended with her trying to fight Sigmund Freud, physically fight him – like some sort of rabid beast, and the Doctor had elected to maybe reviewing her itineraries beforehand for now on. At least to make sure they were less violent.

He couldn’t explain the why’s or the how’s, but, with you though, it felt different.

Well, he could most certainly explain it, but to do so would mean to think about it, and he couldn’t think about it.

He tapped his foot against the metal tiling. If he only had something to do, beyond watching and waiting, and waiting and watching, he wouldn’t even have to entertain these thoughts.

No, it would have been far better if he were busy, then he wouldn’t be thinking any of these things at all.

God he was bored.

Behind him, the Doctor heard the door to bridge swung open. He leaned the left side of his body into the rail, so he could half turn around and see who had just come out.

Clara, brilliant, wonderful Clara, popped her head out through the open doorway. She eyed the two of you, giving the Doctor a questioning look. He shook his hand subtly, in a ‘don’t ask’ gesture, and in response Clara pursed her lips.

“Oi, you two,” she said, and in the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw you jump and turn around.

“Bit of warning next time, could you?” You breathed out, and you rubbed a hand against your chest, the place where you heart was.

“Well, I don’t mean to go all nanny on you,” Clara continued, ignoring you. “But you’re both going to catch a cold if you stand out there any longer.”

“Nah not me,” The Doctor said, leaning against the rail nonchalantly. If his elbow lightly brushed against your arm, it wasn’t of any consequence. “I’m a Time Lord, a little bit of snow is nothing.”

“I don’t care,” Clara said. “Inside. Both of you. Now.”

You turned to face the Doctor, quirking your lips up slightly as you shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I for one am not bold enough to argue with Clara.”

“And that’s why you’re smarter than he is,” Clara replied, nodding towards the Doctor when she called him out.

You laughed lightly, brushing some of the snow out of your hair and off of your shoulders as you walked towards the doorway. You had gone ahead of the Doctor, and were well inside the bridge by the time the Doctor reached Clara, grumbling the entire way.

Clara pulled him aside as he entered. “You need to tell Y/N,” she said tersely.

The Doctor waved a hand at her, and brushed some of the snow off of his pants. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Clara snorted, pulling the door closed. “Uh huh, yeah, sure. And those googly eyes you make are ‘nothing’ too.”

“Exactly.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that, right?”

The Doctor paused, eyeing Clara curiously. “Hm.”

Out of the two of them, the Doctor wouldn’t consider himself to be the impossible one here.

Clara raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You know,” The Doctor said, streamlining around that particular thought. “f I had a penny for every time someone had told me that, I could afford a ticket to see Hamilton.”

“What’s Hamilton?”

“Before your time, Oswald,” The Doctor strode past her. “Give it a couple of years, you’ll find it hilarious.”

The Doctor and Clara reached the mess hall, where you were sitting at a table with Captain Carter, the one in charge of this whole mission. There was a collection of different small square pieces of paper scattered across the table between the two of you.

“How long until we reach the base?” The Doctor asked, sauntering in as if he owned the place. It was important to behave with confidence, after all.

Captain Carter raised a subtle eyebrow, either not believing his act (which wasn’t an act, not really. It was more of an exaggerated performance), or just wasn’t impressed by it. “Another day, at the earliest. However, with all this snow it might be two.”

The Doctor slumped into the seat beside you, and Clara went over to the kitchen. “Is there anything pressing to do then?” She asked. “Because I was thinking of doing a movie night, otherwise.”

Captain Carter pondered this for a moment. “I think a movie night would be a good idea,” they said. “Help entertain the crew.”

“Ah yes, this ship is sorely lacking entertainment,” The Doctor rubbed his fingers against his temple. “I can’t remember the last time I was this bored.”

Captain Carter scoffed, and ran their hand through their cropped hair. “Well, Doctor,” they said, standing from the table. “I’ll be sure to find something entertaining for you.” They stalked off, motioning for Clara to follow.

The Doctor almost gawked, he hadn’t meant for that to happen.

Maybe they would actually organise a movie night, though.

Clara eyed him for a moment, mouthing ‘be nice’ to him. The Doctor screwed up his face and she rolled her eyes at him, following Captain Carter out, but not before she added ‘tell Y/N’.

The Doctor huffed and turned back around. He didn’t know what Clara was talking about.

You picked up a sheet of paper, focusing on it instead of him. God, he wanted you to look at him. “You offended them,” you said, almost offhandedly.

The Doctor slumped into his seat further, and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t moping. “I didn’t mean to.”

You gave him an amused smirk, those brilliant eyes twinkling in mirth. “You’re pouting.”

“I am not.”

The smirk grew into a grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Are too.”

The Doctor leaned his elbow against the table, and rested his head against his closed fist. “Maybe I am, but only a little bit,” with his other hand he gestured to the paper. “What’re you doing here?”

“Thought I’d make a couple of paper cranes,” you replied, and then, hesitantly, added. “I could show you, if you’d like?”

The Doctor knew how to fold a paper crane. He knew eighteen different ways to fold one, some of which hadn’t even been invented yet. Logically, he should have told you this.

He didn’t.

“I’d love that.”

You pulled your chair closer to him, dragging it with your legs whilst you were still sitting in it. Your thigh brushed against his leg, and the Doctor found himself instinctually repositioning himself, drawing himself closer to you.

You took two identical pieces of paper, placing one in front of the Doctor and holding the other one for yourself. You laid your piece of paper flat against the wooden table, lining it up with the grain. It was quite a pretty piece of paper, as far as paper went. It was decorated in a swirling pattern, inked in silver that seemed to shine in the light. The colour of the paper, he noticed, was the same as your eyes.

That shouldn’t have been something he noticed.

No, it was fine. He was just being observant.

You began folding it, and the Doctor watched your nimble fingers easily crease the paper, like you had done this a million times. You nodded for him to do the same.

“There’s this story that goes along with paper cranes,” you told him, your voice soft. Your head was bowed towards him, almost as if you didn’t want anyone else to hear you. “It’s about a girl called Sadako Sasaki, have you heard of it?”

“I haven’t,” the Doctor lied. “Would you tell it?”

You gave him a soft smile, your eyes shining under the fluorescent lights – how many different ways could they sparkle? Would he ever be able to count them all? “I’d be glad to,” you said, and then, after a moment. “It’s quite a sad story, though.”

He knew.

“Well any story can be a sad story,” The Doctor said. “It depends on where you end them.”

You cocked you head to the side slightly, agreeing with him, then turned back to your page. “I’ll finish it in the right spot then.”

You pulled your piece of paper open, inspecting the various creases you’d folded into the paper, then began folding them into triangles. “She was 2 years old when the nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima at the end of World War II,” you began, your voice impossibly quiet, remorseful in that sort of way that was just so distinctly human. “She lived through it, and by the time she was 12, she was her schools star runner.

“Then she contracted leukemia,” you continued, and your crane looked a bit like a large bird beak. “It happened so suddenly. One day she was running around her school’s oval during a practise – or maybe it was a race, and she passed out. At the time she said that little black spots had clouded her vision, and she hadn’t known what was happening.

“Back then they called it atomic bomb disease, because it was most likely caused by the radioactive black rain that fell on Hiroshima the day of the bombing,” You stopped your movements suddenly, staring at the folded piece of paper. You blinked at it a couple of times, and the Doctor wanted to reach out and hold you.

Before he could however, you continued. “Anyway,” you said, and started folding once more. “There’s this legend that a crane can live for a thousand years, so if a person folds an origami crane for each year of a crane’s life, then they can have a wish granted. Sadako heard of this legend and decided she would do this and try to save her life.

“She did it too. Within a month she had a thousand, and she wished to be better,” you looked at the Doctor for a moment. “It didn’t come true though, so she started again. She managed to make another 300 before she passed.”

Your crane looked like a crown, the kind they wore on Lopargos in the 27th century. “She’s famous because of how her classmates honoured her. They built a statue in her honour, and Sadako’s story sort of spread all around the world.

“The paper crane,” you folded down its wings. “Became a symbol of peace, since it’s symbolic status grew in direct contrast of cruelty,” you held your crane up for the Doctor to view, and he noticed that you had even folded a tiny little head for it. “There we go, ended the story in the right spot.”

“So you did,” the Doctor smiled softly at you. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I learned it with the Sadako’s story,” you told him, and you fiddled with the tail of the crane, as if debating whether or not you wanted to fold the tail down.

“So you’ve made a thousand then? What did you wish for?”

You didn’t answer, instead setting the crane down and reaching across the table to get another sheet of paper. It was decorated in the same silver pattern, but it’s base was a deep olive green colour. The Doctor tried not to read into that particular choice.

“Anyway,” you said. “Once you fold them enough, it becomes an easy habit, and it’s especially good when you’re bored,” you looked at him knowingly, then glanced at his paper. “Oh Doctor I’m so sorry! I hadn’t realised that I didn’t explain any of the instructions to you.”

The Doctor looked down to his paper and hummed, he hadn’t realised that he hadn’t actually touched it. Suddenly, your hands were on his, and he was acutely aware of your proximity to one another. You had moved closer to him, so close that he could hear your heartbeat – a steady, grounding rhythm. “Here,” you said. “Let me show you in a better way.”

You began giving him directions on how to fold a paper crane, guiding his hands with yours. You were well into his space, which you had to be, for practical reasons, so you could show him how to do it.

“Aren’t you a thousand years old?” You asked, whilst opening the paper to take note of the creases, your voice impossibly quiet.

The Doctor almost scoffed. “I’m well over it by now.”

You hummed. “I wonder how many people have sent you wishes, then,” you said absentmindedly, as if to yourself. It probably was to yourself, but the Doctor, for all his flaws, had exceptional hearing.

The thought drilled itself into the Doctor’s head. That would come to haunt him later.

You bumped your head against his and it pulled him out of those thoughts. The Doctor could smell the shampoo you used, it was fruity and light – he wondered if it was new. You had resumed your directions and he tried to concentrate on what you were saying, he really did, but you were just so close, and you looked back up to him with those big eyes, and he just could quite concentrate.

Your hands were warm against his, and your fingers expertly worked at the paper with his in tow. The Doctor counted the little marks on top of your hands, the lines that were creased into your skin, the little scars that decorated them from adventures you had taken together as well as your life before him. He wanted to memorise them, every line, every spot, and the way that they moved, keep it locked safe somewhere in his memory.

You huffed suddenly, or perhaps not suddenly, the Doctor hadn’t been paying attention, after all. “Wait, okay, I can’t actually see what I’m doing for the next bit,” you looked up at him. “Do you mind?”

The Doctor shook his head and you stood slowly, gently circling your body around his and leaning your head on his shoulder. The Doctor swallowed, trying to ignore the way your body felt against his own, warm, and solid, and there – right there. This felt so much different to whenever he had hugged you, or when you had held his hand, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Well, no. He knew exactly why. It was to do with the intimacy, it was new and different, and so much harder to rule off as friendly affection.

He scratched that thought out of his mind.

“There’s a bit of a trick here that I like to do…” your voice was low and soft in his ear and The Doctor shuddered slightly. He hoped that you didn’t notice, or, if you did, you just equated it to him just being… well, him.

There wasn’t any other deeper meaning to it, after all.

All to soon you had both finished folding the crane, and you pulled back slightly with a satisfied smile. “There we go, your very own paper crane.”

It sat there small and proud, albeit a bit lopsided. One wing was slightly bigger than the other, but the Doctor already knew that he adored it.

“Ah see now that right there,” the Doctor said, grinning at it. “Is a very cool crane.”

“Well of course it is,” you replied. “We made it, after all -oh.”

You pulled your hands from him and the Doctor paused – where were you going? With a frown, you were looking at your index finger. You considered something for a moment, then popped it into your mouth. The Doctor followed your movements, his mouth suddenly very, very dry.

“Papercut,” you explained, sticking your finger out. “Surely there’s a bandage somewhere.”

“I’ve got one,” a voice said, and the pair of you jumped. Clara was standing by the door to the mess hall, pulling a small bandage out of her pocket. The Doctor ran through the events that had just happened, and couldn’t work out when she had come back.

Clara stalked towards you both, and, judging by the very self-satisfyied smirk she was sending the Doctor’s way, she had been there for a while. She handed you the bandage and eyed the paper crane. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” you said, peeling off the wrapper and twisting the bandage over your cut. “I just taught the Doctor how to make one.”

Clara turned to the Doctor, raising an eyebrow at him. You, of course, didn’t notice this, as you were too engrossed in actually fixing your papercut.

“Oh,” she said, because she knew full well that the Doctor knew how to fold a paper crane. She had been there when The Doctor had gotten into an origami competition with Arnold Schwarzenegger, and had won by folding a paper crane faster than Arnold had. “Well, that’s nice now, isn’t it.”

“Yeah,” you smiled earnestly at them both, then inspected the bandage again. “It might actually do something about that boredom now.”

Clara narrowed her eyes at him, and the Doctor wanted to protest. When she spoke the Doctor had no doubt that it was a challenge. “Oh I’m sure it will.”

You turned back to Clara, completely oblivious to what was going on. “How’d that idea for a movie night go?”

“Oh!” Clara turned back to you, completely dropping her attitude and giving you a small smile. She lifted up a set of DVD’s. “Captain Carter has gotten some people to get some popcorn, we’ve been tasked with finding some pillows and chairs.”

You looked around the mess hall, eyeing the myriad of chairs. “Well, seems like we’re in as good a place to start as any. Shall we get to it?”

Clara placed the DVD’s on the table. “Yeah, lets.”

You squeezed the Doctor’s shoulder as you and Clara went off to begin gathering chairs. The Doctor stole a glance at the DVD’s, and he swore if he’d been alone he would have laughed out loud.

Presently though, he chose to silently mope.

The Princess Bride.

The Doctor thought of the innocent pretending at the start of the film, of the extreme effort Westley goes for his true love, and how there were probably parallels to his own life if he chose to think about it.

Of course Clara had chosen that film.

He put the DVD to the side. No, he wasn’t going to think of any of those parallels right now.

“Doctor,” you called out from the other side of the mess hall, holding a chair in the air. “Are you going to help?”

He crossed his arms and eyed the film one more time. “Yes, of course,” he said, looking up at you. “As you wish.”

Re; the update: I just wanted to thank everyone for the well wishes, I’ve read them all and they’ve all been so sweet. Things have gotten a bit worse, so the messages have meant the world to me. My inbox has eaten a few of them, but I’ll respond to as many of the messages as I can when i have the time! Thanks ❤️

#the doctor x reader #eleventh doctor imagine #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor #Doctor Who #DW

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years

Text

Now Sleep (It’s Not Even Light Out)

TW: Description of wounds, throwing up mention, many corpse descriptions (and not the YouTuber), funeral description. Overall very death centered and angsty.

Word Count: 4,298

Prompt: Character Death

Day: 9/27

Song Listened To While Writing: The Moment I Said It by Imogen Heap

Arrogant. That’s how Preston would look back and describe himself years later, despite Nick shaking his head in disagreement and Deacon huffing a disbelieving laugh in response. He was arrogant, though. With Sole by his side he found himself feeling invincible with the entire world in front of him; terrified about what could happen but finally believing they could change the world together, if only Sole would give him the chance to help them.

Selfless. That’s how Preston would look back and describe Sole. They’d walked into the fight with so little other than their wit and bravery and returned on a makeshift stretcher, made of a piece of scrap wood, four Minutemen carrying them, solemn. Their hats were tipped forward to hide their swollen eyes and the hopelessly lost expressions on their faces.

He hadn’t even noticed it at first. There was a sea of dead after their fight with the Institute; brave soldiers of a wide range of ages, their faces all far too young to be part of a funeral parade through the main street of Sanctuary. Yet when someone stepped forward and they stopped in front of him, he very quickly went from naïve confusion to horror. They never stopped in front of him; he had no family left other than the distant bond he formed with every settler. There could only be one reason that they’d pause for him, as they did when returning the dead to their loved ones. All had been lost.

Preston looked between the front soldier’s faces for an explanation. He refused to accept that they were returning a body to him, the body of the one person he had left to look up to, the one person he could let his guard down in front of. When they pulled back the sheet on their face and revealed his nightmare to be true, he simply bowed his head and gritted his teeth. Compartmentalization was his specialty. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to stop the way the dirt spun below his boots, the way the world began to turn on it’s side.

Instead of throwing everything to the wayside and collapsing, as he so wanted to, Preston simply gathered himself and looked up, far calmer than he should’ve been, and moved to the side to allow the Minutemen to carry them into their home for the last time. Someone should’ve seen the way he refused to show any emotion, the way his fists clenched at his side before relaxing and the grief flushing to the back of his mind, and raised the alarms. A person in mourning wailing was normal; the way Preston simply lifted his head and continued on was certainly not.

There was more lost than Sole, however, and the community was too busy mourning the rest. Preston had a decision to make. Did he wait to announce what had happened to Sole? He wasn’t sure they could take the news straight after they had been led into what was essentially a high-tech slaughter. They had already lost family. A loss of leadership would jar them even more hopeless. The world was still spinning and nausea rose from his stomach to his chest, the feeling of acid climbing his throat overwhelming as he stood in the cool breeze.

Leaves danced in the light wind, swaying back and forth under the soft, blue sky. It was too bright, far too bright. Preston gathered what was left of him, the will to fight that had landed at his feet with the image of Sole cold on the board, the strength he had left to lead scattered somewhere down the street by the same wind, and turned to head inside. To join Sole.

The Minutemen who had carried them in were now posted at the door, heads bowed in respect to Sole, their rifles held straight up and down in front of them. Preston wanted to shout at them, drive them away and tell them to find somewhere else to take up space where he didn’t have to look at them and realize how badly he had failed to protect them, the soldiers and Sole themself, but he didn’t have the heart. Sole had been a symbol of hope, he knew that better than anyone. How was he supposed to be so cruel when they had brought them home?

Preston crossed the room with quiet footsteps, as if he were trying not to wake them. He didn't even have the mind to correct himself internally. It was so much easier to imagine them simply peacefully asleep, despite the fact that they had been positioned with their hands crossed over their chest. He could tell from the way the sheet fell over their body, and that made him glance around for the nearest trash can. Was it real? None of this could be real. He had to throw up. He was going to throw up.

Once he reached their side and sank to the floor next to them, he felt the urge to remove the sheet. It didn't look right; the Minutemen only covered their dead in sheets, out of respect, and there was no way Sole was dead. They couldn't be dead. He reached down with a trembling hand and peeled back the sheet slowly. What greeted him confirmed his worst fears and he lurched to the side, grasping onto the metal bin that sat in the corner, and hacked up whatever he had eaten last.

There was a smattering of bullet holes in their stomach and chest. The blood had seeped into the wood under them, staining it a dark red-brown and dyeing parts of their hair the murky color. It wasn't right. Somewhere near the doorway he heard sniffling; so the other Minutemen had broken down, too? Shame crept up his face, hot and overwhelming. Some leader he was. He hated himself, for letting them get killed and for letting the soldiers see him lose himself like this.

When did he start crying? He wasn't crying. He wasn't sure where the dampness on his cheeks had come from, but it wasn't his fault. He had no reason to cry; they weren't dead. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and was forced to curl in on himself, hands braced on his knees for support by a wrenching sob that nearly cracked his ribs in two. Some part of him wished it would, that it would shatter him into tiny pieces and someone would come in and sweep up everything that had held him together and he could forget about the rest of the world and simply not exist anymore.

Selfish, he scolded himself. He shifted his hand to reach over and straighten their dog tags where they sat between their collarbones when he noticed something clutched in their hands. A piece of paper poked out between their fingers, protected on either side of their palms from the blood that stained everything near them. Mindlessly, he noted that someone would have to throw out the rug their stretcher had been placed upon. One of the Minutemen by the door spoke up, throat clogged, sounding no better than Preston felt. "They, uhm, survived long enough to relay some last words. Said they wanted you to read it and that you would tell the people what you felt they needed to know."

Preston tried to suck in air but it simply wasn't coming. Last words? He hadn't accounted for that. Something told him not to read it, that if he didn't he didn't have to accept what had happened and they would sit up, pouting jokingly, asking him why he wouldn't play along. He stared down at their chest and the way it failed to rise. So still, like if he held himself in place it would look like an old photograph. Them, in the living room together, so still.

His hands were trembling so badly he couldn't even aim properly to shift their hands. If he touched them, would they be cold? He knew what the dead felt like; God knows he'd watched enough people die, buried enough of the people he cared about, that he knew what there was to know about dead bodies. But Sole? They didn't belong in that category. He couldn't imagine them as anything but warm and welcoming. There was no way they could be cold and limp. Empty. Lifeless. But the warmth that usually resided in their cheeks was no longer there, instead replaced by a smearing of blood. Preston shuddered.

Once again, he reached out. This time he would get it right; he'd fucked up enough, the least he could do was read their last words to him. With a harsh swallow he touched their hand and nearly cried out at the feeling. They were cold as ice; this may be their body but it wasn't them. Trying not to hyperventilate, Preston shifted their hand and took the folded piece of paper slowly from their grasp, trying so hard to ignore the way it simply fell from their clutch.

Preston,

Who knew it would end like this? I told myself over and over as we prepared to infiltrate that after the Institute was gone, we would have all the time in the world. I suppose I was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time, but you know that already.

I won't get into the ugly details, cause that's not why I'm having this written. I do know that the Minutemen like their records, though, and considering I don't think any of us are going to make it out of here, I suppose this is the next best thing. Everything went according to plan at first. We got more people out that we thought we would; X6 included. Thank God. On the way out, though, someone managed to get a shot on me.

The ink was smeared, or maybe Preston’s vision was going hazy with tears. Maybe it was both. The paper was rattling quietly as his hands continued to shake, and he swallowed the lump in his throat with a bitter clenching of his jaw. Why wasn’t everyone paying better attention? How was the leader of the Minutemen not better protected? Why did it have to be them?

Johnson helped me into the nearby storage area and we have a few others standing guard; Morrison and Crane, but we're low on ammo. I know I'm not making it out of here. We can't get to the teleporter without others taking out the synths that have found it and are waiting nearby, but I'm bleeding fast.

So I suppose it's time for my on-the-record last words. Thank you, Preston. I need you to know that none of this was your fault, and that I'm simply grateful that I've lived long enough to see this to the end. I have no doubt that you're doing the best you can, and as usual, your best is phenomenal. There is no one I'd rather have known. No one I'd rather have had by my side through everything. I have no regrets other than wishing I could see you before it all ends.

I have to ask that you go easy on yourself. I know you do your best to take care of everyone around you, to be the pillar of support, the courageous leader that never wavers, but it's going to kill you. No one can live how you're making yourself live. You're allowed to be human, Preston.

I'd also like to add that I'm sorry. I know that my inheritance is the heaviest to receive; the role of leader. Are you ready to be General, Preston? Probably not, and for that I'm sorry, sorry that we couldn't do this slowly, easily. But no one can do things better than you can, and I believe in you. Just remember that a leader has to be taking care of themself as well for the community to thrive. You told me that, remember? You're right. Please take your own advice.

And, if you’ll be so kind as to keep this off the record, I hope I'm not getting ahead of myself, but I'm sorry we didn't have more time. I told myself that when this was all over and the threats were mostly gone, well, as gone as they could be in the wasteland, I would tell you how I felt. How shitty of me, to leave you with this burden as well, but I suppose I can't take it back now that it’s been written down. Morrison's laughing at me. Apparently everyone knew but us, go figure. I suppose we both were a little blind to everything that didn't involve work.

Take care of yourself. Ask for help, even though it's your least favorite thing in the world. Give yourself time. Tell Dogmeat I said goodbye, and I love him, and everyone at Sanctuary that I miss them already. That it was an honor to serve them. Tell Deacon to stop smoking, and Nick too, just for the principle of it. Tell X6 he’s braver than he knows and he’ll get through the adjustment period, no matter how uncertain it is. I will see you again in another life, I swear to you. It was the greatest honor to know you, Preston Garvey.

I love you.

There was a smudge of blood on the page, he realized, after rereading it the fifth time. Sole’s, probably. He wanted to laugh at the sheer horror of it all, for lack of a better reaction; he’d run out of tears the third time he’d read their last words. Was it theirs, before they died? Or was it someone else's? Had they survived long enough to get caught by the synths? Had they bled out just before help had arrived? Was there a chance, at all, for them to survive?

Preston had so many questions left for them. He wanted to know how they could believe in him when he hadn’t been there to save their life, despite the countless times they had saved him. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, he knew it was impossible for him to have done anything, that he was on the other side of the teleporter making sure that things ran smoothly. That if he had tried to help them he would’ve been shot dead the moment he stepped through the portal. But he hated himself for not being there as they drew their last breaths.

He folded the paper back up as carefully and neatly as he could and pressed it into his palm. How he wished the letter was at least in their handwriting. Did someone at least hold them as they passed? Or were they left leaned up against a cold Institute wall, the very culmination of the worst their world had to offer? If the others in the room survived, he didn’t think he’d ask them. He was afraid of the answer.

If only it was Preston in their place. Sure, he didn’t exactly want to die, didn’t seek it out, but it was better than Sole going. He’d done his part, made the effort to get the ball rolling for repairing the Minutemen. But the Minutemen needed Sole like children needed their parents. He would’ve died, alone, and been okay with it. A hero’s death, but a hero insignificant enough that it wouldn’t have broken the Minutemen. If only it was him.

He leaned over them, still clutching their last words like a lifeline, and pressed a kiss to their forehead, trying his hardest to ignore the way his falling tears collected bits of the dried blood on their skin and began washing it away. They deserved to be buried looking less like how they died and more like who they were when they were alive. “Can I…” He began, his voice cracking and barely audible. “Can I get some water? And a cloth?”

The Minutemen didn’t move, but footsteps shuffled around the house regardless. Someone had entered while he was repeating their letter over and over in his head like a mantra. When he looked up as the bowl of water and cloth were placed next to him, he met eyes with X6-88. At first, a flash of rage and hatred flooded through him. Maybe if they hadn’t met him and believed there was more for him and subsequently gone to find the Railroad, Sole would still be alive. Then he was calm. At least he had lived. At least their last mission had been successful. That’s what they would’ve wanted.

X6-88 stepped back, steps whisper quiet, and folded his hands behind his back as he stood nearby, looking straight ahead. Sole had said he would have trouble adapting to the outside world, understanding what it was like to be a regular settler in the Commonwealth, but something about his actions was familiar. He was hiding in his own mask of emotionlessness. He was doing his best to cope.

Preston braced himself for the next steps and reminded himself that this was the best thing for Sole. It didn’t matter how he felt right now, it was about Sole’s dignity and the way they deserved to go. With a shaky breath he dipped the cloth in the water and brushed it over their forehead, wiping away the blood that had long made itself home where it didn’t belong. When he dipped the cloth back down and began to ring it out, he swallowed bile again at the way it turned a light pink.

Slowly, he peeled back more of the sheet and washed away the blood on their skin. Their overshirt was still stained with blood; he’d have to get them a new shirt and wrap their wounds so they wouldn’t bleed through again. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, but there was some time before they’d have to announce Sole’s death and prepare them for a funeral. God, he was tired of funerals. He’d seen more than he could remember off the top of his head, a list a mile long, stretching out and wearing him thin.

After a moment of holding the cloth against their forearm, unable to continue as the cloth and water turned muddy red, he felt someone grip his hand. When he looked up X6-88 was kneeled neatly on the other side of Sole’s body, his other hand upturned and open, silently asking to take over. “Ask for help” Sole’s words echoed in the back of his head, their voice reverberating in a way that was so hauntingly them. Would there be a day when he could no longer remember what their voice sounded like?

Preston dropped the cloth into X6’s hand with a grateful nod and sat back, collapsing from how he had been kneeling onto the floor. There was blood on his hands and wrists, blood brushed up his forearms from where he had just barely touched them while cleaning. He wanted to scratch the skin underneath off, rip it apart with his fingernails until there was no trace left of their blood or himself.

Silently, the world continued to spin. X6-88 calmly resumed his task of cleaning Sole’s cold skin, gentler than he had ever been before. Perhaps it was his way of grieving; removing all traces of the Commonwealth and what it had done to them from them. Preston had his back against the wall, silently suffocating with his head in his hands, tears dripping down onto the floor below him. The two guards remained stock still and silent, also silently weeping, their heads raised in pride. At the way the Minutemen would continue despite yet another catastrophic loss. At the way their General had sacrificed so much to give them what they couldn’t have.

Outside, the rest of the world fell silent. There were others to mourn, so many others, and they had left behind families as well. The four inside the room with Sole needed time, and so they let the news wait for another day, with Sole sleeping peacefully on their stretcher, covered in a new, clean shirt and sheet.

Word had been sent out to Deacon, Valentine, and Piper rather quickly. They’d been added to the Minutemen radio long ago, just in case, at Sole’s orders, so it wasn’t hard. They made the trip to Sanctuary in record time, arriving with solemn faces and for Piper, swollen eyes. The trio had remained resolute in their need to keep a brave face until they went down like dominos.

Piper went first, letting out a sob as soon as she saw Sole’s body, turning away and hiding her face in Nick’s shoulder. Deacon rested a hand on her shoulder and simply stared down at Sole, their eyes shut, skin now clean. Nick patted her back and held her up when Preston began reading Sole’s last words with a wavering voice. Deacon went second, choking on grief when Preston recited, “Tell Deacon to stop smoking, and Nick too, just for the principle of it.” He wasn’t one to cry, but God did the situation make for exceptions.

Nick went last. Despite the fact that he couldn’t cry, when he left the house to get fresh air after the letter was read, he threw his hat at the side of the house and collapsed to a crouch, pressing his hands against his face. No one looked each other in the eyes; it would’ve been more than a breaking point, it would’ve caused them all to shatter apart.

The funeral was put together rather quickly after the announcement was made to the rest of the settlers that their General had made one of the biggest sacrifices to protect them. Preston stood on the podium, X6-88 standing just behind him with his hands still folded formally behind his back, head bowed, and read out the list of losses, Sole’s name at the very end. Nick had written a eulogy, but the words blurred together. Preston stopped paying attention to the world around him once he was down from the podium.

It was a military-style funeral. They did their best to make sure all high-ranking Minutemen officials had one, but this was the first time in a while that it was put together so well. Sole deserved nothing but the best. Sturges had been kind enough to stay up through the night to put together a makeshift coffin for them, the best that they could do, and Deacon had taken his anger at the world out on digging their grave. Nick had taken Piper away so she didn’t have to watch and picked flowers with her to go on Sole’s chest before they were lowered into the ground.

Everything came together in a sickening blur, but the world allowed them a small reprieve. The burial went well. A large crowd gathered in the fields of Sanctuary, heads bowed grimly, as they listened to Sole’s companions tell stories of their adventures, their shining personality, and their generous heart. When the row of Minutemen fired their rifles into the air Preston didn’t even flinch; he was too used to it. Somehow, he made it up to the grave to take part in shoveling one scoop of dirt onto their casket, but after that it was black.

The next time he became aware of himself was in the main house, where he was reclined in one of the chairs, Sole’s dog tags pressed to his lips in thought. Nick was still somewhere around, cursing the fact that he was incapable of sleeping, Piper passed out in one of the back rooms from emotional exhaustion. Deacon had vanished into thin air, as he often did. Preston wouldn’t be surprised if they never saw him again, and he couldn’t blame the other man; he was feeling the urge to run very far away right about now, too.

The cold metal was grounding against the skin on his face and he took in a deep breath, closing his swollen eyes. Maybe if he was lucky the universe would grant him a moment's rest, and he would wake up the next morning to Sole rapping their knuckles against his door, teasing him for accidentally sleeping in on them. But they never left their dog tags behind, no matter what. No, it was real. They were gone. And it was sure to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Three years later, it was a hushed topic for anyone to ask a question about the fact that General Garvey wore two pairs of dog tags around his neck. He was a good man, kind, but it was obvious something had changed him to the new settlers; he was quiet, his face drawn and bordering grim at all times. No one had really seen him laugh, which was a shame, because many commented that there seemed to be a light in the depths of his eyes that was begging to come back out. Not to mention the way his second in command glared when someone tried to ask what had happened.

Every July 4th he visited a lone grave in the middle of the fields and rested bouquets of flowers all around and changed out the Minutemen’s flag that hung off the cold stone. He sat, the entire day, undisturbed by the settlers who merely stopped and stared at a distance out of curiosity, in silence. At the end of the day, when the sun had just dipped below the horizon, his second in command would join him in the field and place a hand on his shoulder.

“Preston,” X6-88 would say. “It’s time to get some rest.”

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fo4f #Fallout 4 February #Oneshot #Imagine #Preston Garvey #Angst #Character death

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violet-knox · 5 years

Note

A new professor caught by Severus leaving love letters and gifts for him, because she has a hugh crush on him?

Imagine Severus catching you leave gifts on his desk

Word count: 1773

- He thought it was a joke when gifts started appearing on hisoffice desk. Flowers, paper cranes, a new quill, small treats from Honeydukes.Potter no doubt following in his father’s footsteps. His first thought went toremoving 100 points from Gryffindor, giving that no good twit more detentionthan days left in the school year, but he had no proof, no viable evidence ofhis insubordination.

- Valentine’s day was justaround the corner and he was sure that little prankster was going to takeadvantage of the day’s events, so here he stood, in the dark, back against thewall, wand at the ready, waiting for his office door to swing open.

- The familiar click of hisdoor had him on full alert as someone stepped into his office, just as he’dsuspected. Acting quickly, he pointed his wand at the intruder, their anklesswinging high in the air, a thud echoing through the room when the box intendedto be left on his desk hit the ground. At last, caught in the act. No way outthis time, no excuses, no one to bail out the troublemaker.

- He was excited, ready tolaugh in the face of the idiot dumb enough to think playing with his emotionswas a fun way to pass the time. He was ready to give Potter or one of hisfriends years’ worth of detention, ready to sink Gryffindor so low they’d breaka school record for the first house to receive negative points. What he hadn’texpected, was to see the face of the recently appointed Muggle StudiesProfessor hanging upside down, face painted with shock and embarrassment when heturned the lights of his office on.

- You heaved for air when yousaw him step forward, staring into your eyes as you fought back tears. It hadtaken all the courage you had to leave him gifts, showing your interest in him,but to be caught like this, in such a vulnerable position, was so far pasthumiliating you wished you’d the ground would just open up and you’d be droppedinto the abyss, never to be seen again.

- “What is the meaning of this?” He huffed in a fitof rage. Had Minerva put you up to this? Did the staff send you here as revengefor Slytherin’s win against Hufflepuff last week? How unprofessional.Incompetent, ignorant, atrocious child. How such an insufferable Professor washired was beyond him, even if it was to teach such a mundane subject likeMuggle Studies.

- “You tell me,” you quicklyspat out, trying to hold your skirt that flopped down before gravity leftnothing to the imagination.

- Severus watched youfrantically pulling and struggling and finally registered what he’d done.Hanging a Professor, no matter how deserving, by their ankles was not anactivity he’d expected to partake in today. Though he should have realized whenhe’d set his trap, the possibility of the intruder being someone other thanPotter was present.

- “Explain yourself,” hedemanded as soon as you hit the ground, landing right on your hip. He couldfeel his face flushed red, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of pure rage orabsolute embarrassment from the position he’d put you in.

- You could feel the heatrising to your face, your cheeks burning, your mind foggy. Thoughts of escapingthe confrontation you were being forced to make right now flooded your head.Your chest heaved with air and though you hadn’t dared bring your gaze up fromthat spot on the floor your eyes seemed to now be fixated on, you could feelhis intimidating presence before you.

- You’d become a twelve yearold girl again, caught by a Professor after lights out where you didn’t belong.It took everything you could to mumble a stuttering apology, your wordstripping over one another as you tried to explain the situation best you couldwithout giving away your feelings towards the Potions Master entirely.

- He didn’t speak a single wordand you weren’t sure if he hated you for leaving all those gifts for him or ifhe found the thought of your interest in him preposterous. Or perhaps hissilence was his way of showing his disappointment in your lack ofprofessionalism. Either way you were glad he hadn’t stopped you when you pushedpast him and bolted out the door to hide in your chambers.

- Neither of you so much asglanced in the direction of one another the next few days. It was an awkwardsituation, one that had you up all night, unable to fall asleep from the embarrassmentyou felt that night. You’d thought about resigning but that’s not what aresponsible young woman would do and after what happened with Severus, you hadto come to your senses and start acting like the adult you were. It was astupid idea. Careless and childish. But you’d never felt this way about anyonebefore and he was just so much of an outsider at Hogwarts, you couldn’t helpbut want to spoil him a little.

- He was possibly the youngestProfessor to teach at Hogwarts, his coworkers all a generation ahead of himbefore you’d joined the staff. He was Head of Slytherin, a house hated by most.The gloomy Potions Master none of the children (except his own Slytherins)seemed to like. You hadn’t seen him teach of course, but the way some of thestudents talked, they made him sound bitter. Like life had taken one too manybites out of him. So, what harm would it have been to try and cheer up yourcoworker with some harmless gifts. Apparently quite a lot.

- Severus had to admit, when hesaw you hanging upside down in his office, the last excuse he’d expected you touse for your uninvited visits was your interest in him whether it be platonicor not. He wasn’t exactly one to invite friendship, he’d in fact had quite thetrack record for pushing people away. The logical thing to do was to assumeyou’d lied and that he did. But it didn’t stop him from letting you leave hisoffice, his questions unanswered, your explanation broken in so many pieces, hewas sure not even you wouldn’t be able to put them together. It didn’t stop himfrom missing the gifts he’d received each week from you. All them now goneexcept the box of chocolate frogs you’d intended for him on Valentine’sday. It wasn’t his fault, he’d tell himself. If he’d known they were fromyou perhaps he’d have kept them rather than vanish them from sight.

- Weeks would go by and thoughthe air seemed to have thinned just a little, neither of you would dare look ateach other one second longer than you had to. The guilt had started to seepinto Severus’ chest. The way he trapped you, shouted at you, he was so busyjudging your own pretenses, he’d neglected to assess the way he’d treated thesituation.

- It was too much for him tohandle. He had to find you and try and make things right, at least from hisend.

- You’d find Severus corner youone day after a staff meeting, your feet dragging you back to your chambers asusual, trying to avoid any unnecessary time around the man who reminded you ofthe most embarrassing moment of your life, you’d neglected to notice his swiftmovements as he passed you in the corridor, abruptly stopping in front ofyou.

- He’d quickly apologize fortrapping you the way he did and say he’d never meant to do such a thing to you,that he’d assumed it was a student pulling a prank on him.

- When he’d motion to leave,you’d stand there silently, in awe as he passed you by. Finally registering hiswords, your mouth jumped at the opportunity to make amends, “I’m the onewho should apologize,” you’d say.

- Severus would stop in hispath and slowly turn back to face you, waiting for you to explain. “Ididn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Ijust…” Your words always lost on you when you wanted to voice your emotions.You still couldn’t do it. After everything that’s happened, you still couldn’ttell him how you felt. “Let me make it up to you,” you’d suddenly burstout, “Come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow and I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

- It was quite the offer you’dmade him. He hadn’t been to the little village for leisure since the day he’dbeen banned from the Hog’s Head. He’d never imagined himself going back there,enjoying a drink at the Three Broomsticks or browsing for sweets at Honeydukes.But he agreed. You were quite the breath of fresh air, one he knew he needed.It was a blessing to have someone treat him so kindly, a feeling he hadn’t feltsince Lily had stood up for him in his fifth year.

- Your first date. It went muchsmoother than the last time you’d spoken. No one was hung upside down, no onewas on the verge of bursting into a fit of rage and you were both quite contentwith one another’s company. It turned out that when put into a less pressuringsituation, you both got along quite well. You had much more in common than hewould have thought, and you’d actually managed to hear him laugh. A properlaugh, not one of the snarky chuckles he’d give when undermining a student, notone of the huffs of air he’d give when looking down on someone. An actual,genuine laugh.

- You’d spend more time in hischambers than your own, ultimately resulting in his request for a roomexpansion the following year. The cold of the dungeon shivering your skin witha feeling of home.

- Random gift exchanging becamea norm for you both. You’d wake up to find little notes on your bedside tableif he had an early class. He’d head to his office to grade papers after dinner andfind a paper crane made from the note he’d left you that morning sitting on hisdesk. Picking it up, he’d admire your folding technique, loving how much careyou’d put into such a simple thing before opening his desk drawer to place itwith the thousand others you’d made for him.

#Thanks for the ask #Sorry it took so long #I'm liking this laid back bullet point formatting #It's like the notes I make for my one shots but more detailed #severus snape #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #severus headcanon #snape imagine #snape x reader #fanfic #snape fanfiction #fan fiction #my fanfic #snape x you #pro snape #snape x y/n #snapedom #snape community

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yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere · 4 years

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The Diviners Series’ s EVIE AND SAM STORY :

They aren’t just another hate to love ya couple, there is much much more than that. They are friends. They have bond. They develop through the series. They trust each other. - Here it goes. I was putting these best parts from them for the last few days and FINALLY- can spread this into the world. THIS COUPLE. IT COUPLE. SAM LLOYD AND EVIE O’NEILL:

THIS COUPLE:

“ I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

“ Yes! Yes, Sam Lloyd. I will marry you!”

FIRST MEETING

“ “ I can’t say I blame you for taking in the view. I’ve been looking for a while.”- “Do I know you?”- “Not yet. But I hope to remedy that.” He stuck out a hand.” Sam Lloyd.”- “ Miss Evangeline O’Neill of the Zenith O’Neills.”- “ The Zenith O’Neills? Now I feel underdressed. Let me just get my dinner jacket.”- “ Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Lloyd, but I’d better--“Sam.” He picked up her case so quickly she didn’t even see his hand move. “ Let me carry that for you.”- “Really. I can-”She made a swipe for her case but he held it up.- “ I insist. My mother would skin me for being so unchivalrous.”- “ Well.. just as far as the door, then.”- “Where ya headed?”- “My, you ask a lot of questions.”- “ Let me guess: You’re a Ziegfeld girl?” Evie shook her head. “Model? Actress? Princess? You’re too pretty to be just anybody.”- “Are you on the level?”- “ Me? I’m so on the level I can’t get off it.”-- “ If you must know, I’ve come to join a convent.”- “Seems a waste to me. Pretty girl like you.”- “Serving our lord is never a waste.”- “Oh, sure. Of course, they saw now that we’ve got Freud and the motorcar, God is dead.”- “He’s not dead; just very tired.” The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement, and Evie felt the warmth bubble up again. He thought her clever, this Sam Lloyd with his knowing grin. (…….) “ All right, then. You with your keen observations- what, exactly, do you find special about me?”- “ There’s just something about you,” he said without saying anything at all, which disappointed her. Sam rested his hand on the wall above her head, leaning closer. Evie’s stomach fluttered. It wasn’t that she didn’t know her way around the fellas, but this was a New York City fella. She didn’t want to make a scene and come off a complete rube. She was a girl who could take care of herself. Besides, if her parents heard about this, they’d yank her straight back to Ohio. Instead, Evie looped under the handsome Sam Lloyd’s arm and snatched her valise back. - “I’m afraid I have to go now. I believe I see, the, um, top nun going into the ladies’ lounge.” - “Top nun? Do you mean the Mother Superior?”- “And how! Sister… Sister, um..”- “Sister Benito Mussolini Fascisti?”- “Exactly!”- Sam Lloyd smirked. “Benito Mussolini is a prime minister of Italy. And a fascist.”- “I knew that.” Evie said, her cheeks flushing.- “Of course you did.”- “Well..” Evie stood uncertainly for a few seconds. She stuck out her hand for a shake. With a smirk, Sam Lloyd drew her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. She heard the shoe-shine men chuckling as she pulled away, red-faced and disoriented. Should she slap him? He deserved a slap. But was that what sophisticated Manhattan moderns did? Or did they shrug it off like an old joke they were too tired to laugh at? - “You can’t blame a fella for kissing the prettiest girl in New York, can you, sister?” Sam’s grin was anything but apologetic. Evie brought up her knee quickly and decisively, and he dropped to the floor like a grain sack.- “You can’t blame a girl for her quick reflexes now, can you, pal?” She turned and hurried toward the exit.- In a pained voice, Sam Lloyd called after her: “Best of luck to the nuns. The good sister of St. Mary’s don’t know what they’re in for!”- Evie wiped the kiss from her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed her way out onto Eighth Avenue. “”

“ That son of a...”

“ Don’t kiss strange men in Penn Station.”

SECOND MEETING

“ “ Watch the Queen Of Hearts, folks. She’s the money card. Now, sir, sir- yes, you. Would you care to wager a guess. There’s no charge for this first round. Just to show you it’s an honest game I’m running.”- Evie turned the box over, upsetting the cards and the money. “Remember me, Casanova?”- It took Sam a minute, but then he smiled. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite nun. How’s the Mother Superior, Sister?”- “Don’t you ‘sister’ me. You stole my money.”- “Who, me? Do I look like a thief?”- “And how!”- “Doll, I’m sorry you got fleeced, but it wasn’t me.”- “ If you don’t want me to call a cop over here right this second and tell him you just tried to take advantage of me, you will give me my twenty dollars.”- “Now, sister, you wouldn’t--”- “I pos-i-tute-ly would! Do you know the Museum of American Folklore, Superstition, and the Occult?”- “Yeah, I know it, but---”- “You can’t find me there. You’d better bring me my twenty bucks if you know what’s good for you.”- “Or what?” Evie spied Sam’s jacket draped across a fire hydrant. She wiped it and slipped her arms through the sleeves. “Give that back!” Sam growled.- “Twenty bucks and it’s all yours. The museum. See you son-ski!” Laughing , Evie ran down the block.””

“ “What is it?” Jericho asked.- “I thought I saw someone watching us. I must’ve been mistaken.”- “It’s been a very long day. I wouldn’t be surprised if your eyes played tricks on you.”- “I suppose you’re right.” Evie said, but she had the nagging feeling she’s seen Sam Lloyd, of all the people. She had a vague impression of him leaning against a tree in that overconfident posture that annoyed her so. But Jericho was right- there was no one there now, only the lamppost and the park.””

“She’d seen him. Just for a second, but it was enough. What was it about that girl that made him lose his street smarts?”

“ This whole affair could’ve been avoided if he’d used his skill on Evie O’Neill back at Penn Station. But for some reason, he’d wanted her to see him. He’d wanted to talk to her. And when the time came, he’d wanted to kiss her as much as he’d wanted her money. That had been his undoing. Now here he was in the Museum of the Creepy Crawlies, searching in the dim light for his jacket.”

“ “Well, well, well. I suppose you’ve got my twenty bucks.” Jericho glanced from Evie to Sam and back again.- “Do you two know each other?”- “Actually, I’ve come to see Mr. William Fitzgerald. Is he here?” Sam craned his neck.- “Dr. Fitzgerald. And what business do you have with my uncle?”- “ Your.. your uncle? You don’t say! Now, isn’t that a coincidence.” ” (…)- “ He’s a cheat, a liar, a thief, a liar-”- “You said it already.” Sam noted.- “Well, I’m saying it again! This is the son of a bitch who stole my twenty dollars in Penn Station!” (…) - “Now. Did you, in fact, steal her twenty dollars? Answer carefully, young man.”- For the first time, Sam appeared nervous, raking a hand through his hair and inching just a bit closer to the door. “Well, sir, a great man once said, ‘Subjectivity is truth; truth is subjectivity’. “- “Kierkegaard,” Will said, surprised. His tone softened. “Still. Facts are facts.”- Sam looked down at his shoes.” I’m sorry. I was planning on paying her back when I saw that fella at the pawnbroker’s and gave him my last dime to get that knife back. I thought maybe it could be a peace offering.”- “Oh, dry up,” Evie muttered. “ He probably stole it himself.” “

“ “Admit it- you liked that kiss.”- “You owe me twenty dollars.”- “Cash or check?” He said cheekily. Even the dullest Ohio girls knew that bit of lingo: Kiss now or kiss later?- “ Bank’s closed, pal.”- Sam nodded. “Check, then.” Whistling, he headed for the library doors. Evie followed him up the wide, curving staircase that led to the museum’s second floor. “Can I help you, sister?”- “I’m making sure you don’t leave with half the museum.”- “Just have to iron my shoelaces,” he said, nodding towards the men’s room at the top of the stairs. When he reached the men’s room door, Evie stood outside, her arms folded across her chest. “Honestly, I’d invite you in, but I’ve managed to avoid getting arrested for pretty theft. I’d hate to go to the Tombs for perversion.”- “Whatever it takes to get you out of my uncle’s museum. I’ll wait.”- “Suit yourself, doll.””

“ “Do you think you can manage to not steal anything while I’m gone?”- “ The only thing I’m trying to steal is your heart, doll.” Sam smirked- “ You’re not that talented a thief, Sam Lloyd.” “

“ “Psst!” Sam hissed at Evie from the doorway of an office.- “Sam! What are you doing?”- “Same thing you are. Snooping around.”- “You were supposed to stay with Jericho!”- “You should know by now, doll, that I never do what I’m supposed to do.”- “Never mind that. Did you find anything?”- “Not yet. I’ll look here. You look over there.” “

“ “ And then I said to him, ‘The pleasure was all yours.’ I said it just like that, too. I had the last word.” Evie said, recounting Sam Lloyd’s first visit to the museum.- “Sure ya did.” Theta laughed. “You shouldn’t let that Sam fella get under your skin.”- “Did I say he was under my skin?”- “No. I can see you’ve really let it go, Evil.” Theta said, and Henry smirked.- “It’s over. Finished. The bum’s rush to him ,”Evie said, brushing away the wind for effect.- “Good, because we’re here. And I’m pretty sure that password isn’t Sam or Lloyd.””

“ “What’s eating you?”- “Theta, take my purse. It’s got twenty bucks in it. You might need it to bail me out.”- “For the last time, what is it?”- “Sam Lloyd.” “

“ “Let’s dance.”- “With you? Just so you know, I left my money with Theta for safekeeping.””

“ “.. That Ida was a real tomato who was not hitting on all sixes..”- “ Beg you pardon?” Will said.- “ She was pretty gullible.” Sam explained.- “Because she started spending all her clams on seances with Mary and John. Anyway, the chin music was--”- “ The what?” Will asked.- “Gossip.” Sam said. “

“ “Sam! Sam Lloyd! I need you!”- “I knew you’d come around.”- “Take a shower, pal. I need you to help me into the Tombs.””

“ “ You have a steady fella?”- “ No fella can hold me for long.”- “That a challenge?”- “No. A statement of fact.”- “We’ll see.”- “You still owe me twenty bucks.”- “ You’re a lot more like me than you think, Evie O’Neill.”- “Ha!”- “What I meant to say is, you like me a lot more than you think.”- “Keep driving, Lloyd.””

“ “Bomb and revolution? Not my style. I’ve got my own mission.”- “What mission is that? Leading girls astray with stolen gems?”- “You ever hear of something called Project Buffalo?”- “Can’t say that I have.”- “Well, if you look for any information on it, you won’t find it. It was a secret government operation during the war.”- “Then how do you know about it?”- “My mother went to work on it. She took some kind of test--”- “A test? What..?” (….)- “I’m going to find her. So now you know about me. What about you? How’d you end up with your uncle?”- “ I killed a man for insulting my honor.”- “Naturally. And?”- “And.. I robbed a five-and-dime. I can never have enough paste bracelets.”- “Who can? And?”- “And.. I accused the town golden boy of knocking up a chambermaid.”- “For fun?” (..) - “You’re on to me, Lloyd. I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you now. Be a honey and sit still while I strangle you.” Evie reached playfully for his throat and Sam jerked the wheel, making the car swerve and Evie scream.- “I’ll go quietly, sister,” Sam said, correcting their course. “Just don’t wreck us.” “

“ “Sorry. It’s just that… you’re not what I thought.”- “ That’s right. I’m a real sideshow act. How about it, Jericho? Would you like me to tell you your secrets? All the little lies you keep hidden from the world?”- “No!” Jericho jerked his hand away from Evie’s so quickly that he nearly lost his balance. Tears stung at the corners of Evie’s eyes and a lump rose in her throat. She wasn’t about to cry here, and so she ran from the library and shut herself in the bathroom.- “Nice work, Frederick,” Sam grumbled and went after her. Sam sat on the floor outside the bathroom door, hoping Evie could hear him. “Doll, I don’t care if you can read every secret I’ve got. I don’t even care if you keep me sitting outside this john all night. Well, my legs would care, but don’t mind them- they like to complain…. There is nothing wrong with you. I just want you to know that.” Silence. “Take your time, doll. You know where to find me. I’ll keep your seat worm.”- In the bathroom, Evie leaned her head against the door. “Thank you,” she whispered, though Sam was no longer there to hear it.”

“ “I’ll tell him it was my idea,” Sam said.- “Swell. I’ll tell him it was your idea, too.” Evie said.”

“ “ So her daughter kept up the taxes on Knowles’ End? Why?”- “That’s exactly what I said. See? We think alike.”- “ Will you come down from there, please? You’re making me dizzy.” Evie stopped the ladder abruptly and Sam leaped down.- “Aw, doll. You say the sweetest things.”- “Sam, I’m warning you. You might be the next victim.””

“ “What good is it to have this power and not use it?”- “ I salute your spunk, but I question your sanity,” Sam said.”

“ “Will, make her stop,” Jericho cautioned.- “ I’m with Frederick the Giant,” Sam chimed it. Will hesitated.- “ Just another moment. We’re close.”- Sam didn’t wait. “Hey, doll? Time to come up for air. Can you hear me?”- “I said just a moment!” Will snapped.”

“ Sam watched the two of them from the sidelines. Something had happened up in Brethren beyond their finding the pendant and escaping from the new faithful. And Sam didn’t like it.”

“ “ Wait a moment- what note? What are you talking about?”- “Can you tell me how evidence from a murder victim got into your museum?”- “I don’t know,” Will said softly. “I swear I don’t, Terrence.”- “And I suppose you don’t know how your cigarette lighter ended up at a murder scene, either?”- “ I- I lost it recently, and..”- “It was found at Mary White Blodgett’s house.”- “I took the shoe buckle,” Sam blurred out. “Found I out at the seaport and thought I could make a quick buck off it. There are creepy chumps who pay for that stuff.”- “Sam, don’t.” Evie warned.- He gave her a wan smile. “It’s okay, doll. Let’s call it even on that twenty bucks.” “

“ “Hiya, ladies,”- “Sam! Let go!”- “Seems like a bad idea.”- “I’m still amazed they let you out of the Tombs.”- “Chalk it up to my charm, sister. I did manage to make off with some handcuffs, though.” His smile suggested something naughty and Evie rolled her eyes. “Just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for a few days,” he told her.- “I’ll wear a black veil and cry all night.” Theta and Mabel giggled and looked away.- “You’ll miss me. I know you will, sister.” He gave her one of those wolfish grins.- “Hey!” the conductor called. “ Get down from there!”- “Sam, you’re going to get in trouble!”- “Aw, baby, I thought you loved trouble.”- “Will you get down before you kill yourself?”- “Broken up about my well- being?”- “Get. Down.”- Sam leaped from the trolley, nearly upending a woman pushing a pram. “Sorry, ma’am.” He brushed his hands clean and shouted after them, “ One day, Evie O’Neill, you’re gonna fall head over heals for me!” - “ Don’t hold your breath!” Evie shouted back. Sam mimed an arrow through the heart and fell down. Evie laughed in spite of herself. “ Idiot.” - Theta eyebrows inched up. “That boy’s got it bad for you, Evil.”- Evie rolled her eyes. “Don’t kid yourself. It has nothing to do with me. That boy only wants what he can’t have.”- “Don’t we all?” “

“ ..Pardon me, I.. Sam Lloyd.”- “Hiya, Baby Vamp. Miss me?” (..) - “Good-bye, Sam.”- “Aww, c’mon, doll. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Did I get mad when you told them I was… how’d ya put it again?”- “A liar, a cheat, and the sort of scum the other pond scum try to swim away from?”- “That was it. Great to see you again, Sheba. Say, why don’t we find some little corner and catch up over a sloe gin fizz?” “

“ “ See, the trouble with Nietzsche, besides his being a real killjoy, is that he thinks like a spoiled seven-year-old who doesn’t want to share his sandbox toys--” - “Sam! Sam over here!” Evie blurted.- “ Well, if is isn’t the Queen of Sheba. Just the girl I’m looking for. Did Freddy tell you the news about our Diviners exhibit? I was thinking that--” - Evie threw her arms around Sam’s neck. “Sam, there you are! You’re late. Oh, but I don’t mind. How handsome you look!”- Sam’s brow furrowed. “Forgive me, Miss. I thought you were Evie O’Neill. Clearly I’ve mistaken you for someone else.”- Evie laughed too hard. “Oh, you! Always the comedian.” She slipped her arm through Sam’s, giving him a small pinch as she did. “Now, I’m late to the Whoopee Club, and I need you to escort me, won’t you? So long, Mabasie, darling! Let’s do this again soon!” Evie nodded at Jericho. “Lovely to see you again, Jericho.” (..) Outside the Bennington, Evie slipped free of Sam’s arm. “ On a second thought, it’s too chilly for a walk, and it looks like rain. I’d better grab a taxi here.”- Sam smirked. “What? And interrupt our cozy, heartfelt reunion?”- “Yes, I’m all broken up about it, too. But I’m sure I’ll recover.”- “ You remember the day we met in Penn Station?”- “ When you stole my twenty dollars? How could I forget?”- “ You told me then that you weren’t an actress. I think you pulled my leg on that one.”- “ I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Sam Lloyd.”- “ I’m sure you do. Don’t worry-- I won’t blow your cover. But I need something from you in return.”- “Have you given up petty theft in favor of blackmail now?”- “ This isn’t for me. It’s for your uncle. He’s gonna lose the museum, Evie, if we don’t pull a rabbit out of hat.” ”

“ Sam put his arm around Evie as she signed an autograph. “ Doesn’t she have beautiful penmanship?”- T. S. Woodhouse smirked. “Say, you two look cozy there. Anything the Daily News readers should know about? There were those rumors a few months ago that the two of you were an item.”- “No. We are not.” Evie said firmly.- “Now, that’s a fine way to talk to your fiancé, Lamb Chop!”- “Fiancé?” Woodhouse raised an eyebrow.- “He’s kidding on the square.” Evie said. - Sam gave her his best lovelorn look. “Why, I’ve been crazy about this kid since the day I first saw her in Penn Station.”- “Sam-” Evie warned through a tight smile.- “But who wouldn’t be? Just look at that face! “He pinched Evie’s cheek. She stepped down hard on his foot. (..) - “The Sweetheart Seer’s got a sweetheart?” a man joked.- “No, he’s not-”- “Now, honey blossom. Let’s not hide our love. Not anymore.”- “I’d like to hide my fist inside your gut,” Evie whispered low near his ear.- “ Miss! Your taxi!”- Sam practically pushed Evie into the backseat of the waiting automobile. “ You run along, sweetheart! Can’t have my little radio star catching a cold.”- “They’ll be dragging the river for your body tomorrow, Sam Lloyd.”- “Did she just say they’d drag the river for your body?” T. S. Woodhouse asked, his pencil poised above his open notebook. Sam sighed like a man deeply in love.- “She did, the little bearcat. It’s the only defense that poor, helpless girl’s got against the animal pull of our love. Uh, you can quote me on that.”- “ Animal… pull… of our…. Love..” Woodhouse was still scribbling..”

“ “.. Sam out as often as possible. Every night if you can. Now that Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald are in Europe, Americans are hungry for a modern couple to take their place. You two are it.” Evie burst into uncontrollable, nervous laughter. “Is something the matter, Miss O’Neill?”- “Everything’s jake.” Evie said in a somewhat strangled voice. “Could I make a telephone call, please?” “

“ “ Well, if it isn’t the future Mrs. Lloyd.”- “Daaarling. I’ve missed you.”- Then was a brief pause on the other end, then: “Uh- oh.”- “Hahahahahahaha. Oh, you! Darling, I simply must see you. Shatt we say luncheon at noon? The Algonquin?”- Another pause. “ Are you feeling okay, Sheba?”- “Now, don’t be late, dearest. We have so much to discuss, and you know that every moment away from you is like a torture. Adieu!” Evie hung up before Sam could say another word. “

“ “Is that so? Tell me why I shouldn’t fess up to the news boys.”- “Do you know how many calls the radio station got today about us? One thousand!”- “A.. thousand?”- “One-oh-oh-oh, brother. And they’re still calling! Mr. Phillips wants to put me on two nights a week. This is going to make me famous. More famous. You, too, I suppose.”- “I bet I’d be good at being famous.”- “How lucky for us all. The point is, if you tell them it was just a joke now, I’ll look like a joke, too. Nobody wants to back a joke. Makes people grumpy. There’s only one solution, I’m afraid. We’ve got to play out this hand for a bit.”- “Yeah? What do I get out of this deal, Baby Vamp?”- “I agree not to kill you,” Evie said around a mouthful of bread. She twirled the butter knife between her fingers.- “Your terms are generous.” “

“ Sam leaned forward and took both of Evie’s hands in his. He stared into her eyes as if she were the only woman in the world. Like a traitor, Evie’s stomach gave a slight hiccup. “ Help me with Project Buffalo and the Diviners exhibit. And I promise I’ll sell this romance so hard Valentino couldn’t’ve done better.” “ (..) “ Four weeks, huh?”- “Four weeks.”- “Done. We’ll have to make the chumps believe it. Moonlight strolls. Staring into each other’s eyes. Sharing the same straw in our egg cream. Dreadful pet names.”- “ Not Lamb Chop,” Evie protested. “That’s hideous.”- “You got it, Pork Chop.”- “ I will murder you in your sleep.”- Sam grinned. “Does that mean you’re sleeping beside me?”- “Not on your life, Lloyd.” Evie smirked. ” The act’s only good when the cameras are flashing.”- “ Well, then, guess I’d better make this look good now.” Sam kissed the back of Evie’s hand.”

“ “Hey, what’s that?” Sam came and stood beside Jericho.- “If I had to guess, I’d say probably none of your business,” Jericho said, glancing down at the page.- “ That’s my favourite kind of business...” “

“ T. S. Woodhouse’s pencil hovered over his notepad. “I’m sure we’re all dying to know how you two lovebirds first met.”- “Well-”Evie started.- “It was a moonlit night,” Sam interrupted. “A full moon, as I recall. Just the prettiest September moon you ever saw. I’d lost my dog-”- “Sparky.”- “Right. I was calling. ‘Here, boy, here, Sparky!”- “It was the most heartbreaking sound you ever heard,” Evie said. “I wanted to cry just hearing it. I still want to cry when I hear Sam’s voice.” Sam raised an eyebrow at Evie’s jibe. She smiled back. The smile was a challenge.” Go on, darling. Tell them the rest.” (..) “ Not that Sam minded what I looked like. He was just so surprised to be talking to a real girl. Girl don’t usually talk to you, do they, dear? Poor baby just never had a bit of luck with the female species. Why, it was almost as if dames were repulsed by you, weren’t they, darling? Didn’t you tell me they’d shrink from your touch?”- “ But you could see the good deep in my heart, couldn’t you, Pork Chop?”- “ Yes. I had to look with magnifying glass, but there it was.”- “ What does this have to do with a missing dog?” someone shouted. “

“ “ Dear little tiny man. You’re just five feet, three inches of pure joy. My own lucky leprechaun.”- Sam glowered. “I’m five-foot-ten.”- “ Are you?” Evie said in astonishment. “ Well, now, let’s see. I’m five-foot-two..” She swooped a hand across her head to Sam’s neck, putting Sam’s claim to the test. The crowd roared.- “Five- foot- nine.” Sam’s smile was strained.- “ Love these two. Put them on the radio together. They’d be funnier than Sam ‘n’ Henry, “ the reporter said.- “ Now, now, only one of us is on the radio. Isn’t that right, darling?” Evie said. She cut her eyes at Sam in warning.- “True.” Sam said. “Only one of us has enough hot air for two nights a week.” “

“ “There’s something defective about your objects, Sam. It’s just like when I tried to read the postcard in your jacket-”- “You what? First you take my jacket, then you read my postcard? Why, you little--”- “ I was curious!”- “ That was my private property, sister!”- “YOU STOLE MY TWENTY DOLLARS!” “

“ Evie narrowed her eyes. “ I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”- “If I were the last man on earth it’d be because you drove the other poor suckers to early graves. Read.” “

“ “ I don’t see why I had to come.”- “Because you’re my darling fiancée. Everybody loves the Sweetheart Seer! Oh, and one more thing- if she asks, you’re converting to Judaism.”- “What? Sam!”- “Don’t worry. Everything’s jake, Baby Vamp. Just follow my led.”- “If that supposed to be reassuring, it’s not.” “

“ “You’re the elephant’s eyebrows, doll.”- “Someone has to look after you, Sam Lloyd.””

“ The truth was, he was enjoying their cooked-up romance a little too much. Whenever Evie looked at him from across whatever room they were working, he got a feeling in his stomach like they were sharing the most delicious secret. It was fun and exciting- the two of them against the world. He dreaded the countdown to the end of it. Was it too much to hope that he could change her mind along the way?”

“ “ What did you do, future Mrs. Lloyd?”- “ Good things come to those who wait.”- “That a promise?””

“ Sam had spent time traveling with a circus, but being with Evie was its own circus, a real trapeze act. He wanted to do something grand and ridiculous to prove himself to her- like go to Belmont and bet all his money on a horse. Hell, he wanted to buy her the damned horse and name it for her. It was stupid to let a girl get under his skin this way. But he didn’t feel like stopping it. “ What is it? Is there something on my face?”- “ Yeah. There’s a face on your face. It just so happens to be a really nice face.” “

“ “ Those shoes looks dangerous. Better take’ em off first.”- “I love these shoes more than you, Sam.””

“ “That was close.”- “Yeah. Yeah, it was.” Neither of them moved. His hand still cupped her wrist gently.- “I- I suppose we can go now.” Evie said.- “Suppose so. “Sam answered. “”

“ “ You were supposed to meet me at the show, Sam! I’ve spent the last two hours worried that you were bleeding to death in a ditch,” Evie continued. “Now that I know you’re okay, I just want you to be bleeding to death in a ditch.”- “Aww, Lamb Chop, you missed me.”- “That’s what you just heard?”- “What can I say? I’m an optimist.”- “ The world is full of dead optimists. Sam, Sam, Sam!”- “ That’s me. Say, how much of that coffin varnish have you had, Sheba?” “

“ “Hey! What’s the big idea?”- “I’m saving you from yourself.”- “I don’t need any saving. What I needed was that drink. You didn’t even save me the olive.”- “ Okay. That’s fair. Abso-tive-ly fair. Let’s say the tables were turned. If I were about to walk off a cliff, what would you do?”- Evie pursed her lips. “ Push?”- “I don’t believe that.”- “You would on the way down.” “

“ “You wouldn’t believe the awful stuff I find out about people.”- “Why don’t you tell them the truth?”- “The truth doesn’t sell soap. Keep it light and happy and entertaining. Give ‘em hope, kid! “- “But that makes you no better than those phony con men on Forty- second Street. You’re the real McCoy, Sheba. You don’t need to fake it.”- Evie sat up, glaring. “I did not come to this party to hear a lecture from you, Sam Lloyd. You steal people’s wallets. Don’t act like you’re better than I am.”- “Me? Sure, I’m a thief and a con. But not you, kid. Unfortunately, you care. I know you.”- “No you don’t,” Evie said, lying back again. “You just think you do because you’re my pretend fiancé. But nobody really knows anybody. We’re all just a bunch of Pears soap ads walking around clean and neat, ready to wash away to silvers.”- “What’s real, then?”- “I dunno, anymore, Sam. I really don’t.” “

“ “Thanks anyway, kid.”- “I refuse to be beaten!”- “Nah, it’s jake, doll. I’ll… I’ll take you back to the party--”- “Sam! Stay! Good boy… Listen, Sam: Do you still have that photograph from Anna Polot.. Pala.. Anna Anna?”- “It’s just a picture of me with my mother.”- “I know. But it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”- “That’s my girl.”- “I am not your girl.” “

“ “ I got you. It’s okay. Did you get anything, doll?”- “You were at a table, and Rotke was asking if you could guess at the cards in her hand. But you couldn’t. I don’t understand. Why was she testing you?””

“ “ A castle castle?”- “No, Sam. A sand castle. Yes, of course, a castle castle. But here’s the strange part: I’ve seen this particular castle before, in my dreams.”- “And were you married to a handsome prince in that dream? Was there a scepter and a throne?”- “Ha, ha. Haaa. But I have seen it in my dreams. At least, I think I have. Or one like it.”- “Someday, I’m gonna buy you a castle, future Mrs. Lloyd.”- “ I don’t know what to think when you’re not horrible. It’s very confusing.” Evie slurred. Impulsively, she kissed Sam, then laid her head on his shoulder again. (..) “The room’s gone fuzzy. Does it look fuzzy to you, Sam?”- “I think one of us is drunk, Lamb Chop.”- “Must be the room.”- “It’s not the room.” (..) “I’d imagined this evening going a whole lot differently,” Sam grunted as he tucked Evie in. Her mouth was open and a tiny snores escaped. “You are not a delicate sleeper, kid.” Sam planted a kiss on the pop of Evie’s messy head. “Sweet dreams, Sheba.” “

“ “ You told him about Project Buffalo?”- “I- I.. it isn’t what you think, Sam.” (..)- “How could you do that? I told you : No reporters. You promised to keep it a secret between you and me, Evie. I trusted you.”- “Sam, could we talk about this later? I’ll explain everything, but.. People are watching.”- “Oh, sure. I see. Wouldn’t want to disappoint your adoring public… Well, I don’t care anymore, Evie. I’ve had enough. You know what? Maybe I’ll just blow this whole thing wide open. Tell you the truth, I’m tired of going to parties every night, anyway. I’m tired of playing your pretend fiancé. Tired of you. Just tired.”- “Sam.. please.”- “Come one. Let’s get this over with.”

“ “Sam? I said, are you excited about the wedding?”- “What fella wouldn’t be?” Sam said, looking away.”

“ “The time.. the time is now,” the soldier whispered fervently as he reached into his pocket for a revolver. All eyes were on Evie, who lifted her arm in a wave, blowing kisses to the crowd. The soldier raised the gun. It shook in his hand. “The time is now,” he moaned. Evie’s smile was still bright as she turned in the soldier’s direction. Her eyes saw the gun in his hand and couldn’t quite make sense of it, as if he might be holding a fish or an albatross. Sam was quicker. Time slowed and sharpened at once. Blood thrummed in his ears, blocking out the gasps of the stunned crowd. These people receded in Sam’s mind. There was only Evie, the man, and the gun. Sam wasn’t close enough to tackle the man before he could get a shot off. There was no time to think it through. Sam pushed Evie aside and thrust his hand toward the man with the gun.- “Don’t see me,” he growled. He poured every ounce of will into that one movement. Sam felt as if he’d been struck by a tuning fork. His body trembled from the effort. His knees buckled, but Sam held on. “Don’t. See. Me.” The soldier’s haunted eyes emptied of all consciousness, like a sleepwalker’s. Sam lunged forward and pried the revolver from the man’s grime- coated fingers. Several people closest to the man with the gun had also gone slack, heads cocked toward the sky, lost in some private reverie. But the rest of the sizable crowd watched it all. (..) Murmurs became shouts. People raced forward from everywhere at once.- “What’s happening? What is it?”- “Sam Lloyd is what happened! He saved Evie O’Neill’s life!”- “He’s a Diviner, too!”- “ He’s a Diviner! A Diviner! A Diviner!”- “Their Love is Diviner and Diviner!”- “Come on, Sam, put your arm around her!”- Evie had never seen Sam like this. Bewildered. Frightened. A little lost. (..) she understood this much: Sam had one it for her. He’s risked his life to save hers. Evie slipped her arm through his, anchoring him. No one could see her gently easing the tension from his fist. No one else could see her fingers gripping his, keeping him close. (..) Beside Evie, Sam trembled.- “I’ve got you.” Evie said. She reached over and wrapped his arm around her waist, letting him hold on to her as if she were a buoy. This pleased the people, who cheered and clapped and whistled. She could feel Sam’s pulse thumping.- “ He was going to shoot you,” he whispered, dazed. “I had to stop him.” (…) - “Leave him alone!”- “C’mon, Evie. Your fella is big news.”- “ He’s not your story right now!” ”

“ The note read, simply, “Roof. Now.” (..) - “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.”- “Congratulations. You found me. How’s the party?”- “Oh, you know. Lots of hot air and silver gravy boats. Aren’t you cold?”- “Yes.”- “Do you want to go inside?”- “No.”- “Are you al right?”- “Sure.”- “Are you lying?” (..) “Why didn’t you tell me before, when you knew about me?”- “I needed it to be a secret until I found my mother.”- “But now it’s not a secret any longer.”- “No. I reckon it’s not.”- “ Why did you do that today?”- “You’re honestly asking me that?” Sam looked at Evie, and suddenly, she knew. Don’t see me was more than Sam’s Diviner power; it was his entire worldview. It was how he’d gotten along in life, keeping hidden, only letting people see what he wanted them to see. His whole life was a sleight of hand. And he’d risked it all. For her. - “I.. thank you for saving my life. I’m so sorry about what I said to Woody. I promise I thought I was helping you, Sam.” “

“Sam.” He turned his face to her. His mouth- why had she never noticed how perfect his mouth was? Impulsively, she kissed him once on those perfect lips and stood back, waiting. His expression was unreadable, and Evie’s stomach fluttered. He shook his hand.- “Evie. Don’t.”- “Why not? Because girls shouldn’t kiss first? Am I supposed to look up at you through fluttering lashes, all phony innocence, and wait for you to feel moved? I burned that rule book a while ago, Sam.”- “I don’t care about that. Just.. please don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it.”- “I mean it right now.”- “That’s always your answer, isn’t it? Don’t think about tomorrow.”- “Now is the only thing you can count on, Sam. It’s all we really get.”

“ “Happy Diviner New Year, I guess.” Evie said, a little breathless. - “To hell with it,” Sam said and wrapped Evie in his arms, kissing her fiercely.”

“ Her mind was on Sam. Theirs was supposed to be a pretend romance, nothing more. But then Sam had saved her life and she’d kissed him. She’d wanted to kiss him- that much was clear. (..) The deal with Sam was supposed to make Evie’s life easier. Instead, she was more confused than ever. “

“ “What’s the big idea, Sam? Why were you so rude to my friends?”- “ Those are not your friends. Your real friends are wondering where you are. Did you forget?” Evie’s blank expression told him that she had. “The Diviners exhibit party at the museum. It’s tonight. You’re the guest of honor.”- Evie bit her lip and rubbed at her forehead. “Honestly, Sam. I can’t tonight.”- “Why? You sick?” Sam pressed his lips to Evie’s forehead, and Evie’s stomach fluttered.- “No. But I.. it was a bad show, Sam. Very bad.”- “You’ll have a better show next time.”- “No. You don’t understand.”- “I understand that you promised, Evie.”- “I know. I know I did. And I’m sorry. Truly, I am. But I- I can’t.” (..) “You want me to go back to that museum? To talk about ghosts? You weren’t there in that house with that… that thing. You don’t know how it was! Ask Jericho. He knows. He understands what it was like.” (..) “ When I stand still, I see all of it. So I don’t stay still, and I certainly don’t go looking for more. And every night before bed, I pray for those pictures to go out of my head. When the prayers don’t work, I ask the gin to do it.”- “I’m sorry I’m not Jericho.” Sam said coolly.- “I’m sorry for everything.”- “That include last night?” Evie didn’t answer. (..) The comment about Jericho had hurt. Badly. He tried to swallow it down. “ Evie,” He said, taking gentle hold of her hand. “ The party can’t go on forever.” - Evie looked up at Sam, defiant but slightly pleading, too. Her voice was nearly a whisper. “ Why not?” She pulled her hand free of Sam’s grasp, and he let her go, watching as she ran headlong toward the hedonistic throng.”

“ Sam sat up. “I’m trying to understand all this--”- “Don’t strain,” Jericho muttered.” “

“ “Go home, Evie. We got enough trouble here.”- “Unhand me, fiancé!”- “I am not your fiancé. It was a publicity stunt, remember?”- “Right.” Evie said, nearly swallowing the word.- “Your engagement isn’t real?”- Jericho said.- “ I can assure you that the feelings Sam Sergei Lloyd Lubovitch has for any girl are nothin’ but an act.” “

“ “ I should come with you,” Jericho protested. “I’m bigger.”- “ Yeah. I know. I got eyes.” Sam sniped. “But if something goes really south with Ling and Henry, we need somebody who could drag them off to the showers. Or fight whatever comes in here.”- “I don’t like it.” Jericho said.- “I don’t like any of this, pal!” Sam yelled. “If you got a better idea, let me know.” Jericho didn’t have a better idea, but he resented being stuck at the museum instead of where the action was. That was always his role, and he was tired of it.- “Fine,” he grumbled.” “

“ “Sam. I don’t know what’s happening.”- “How drunk are you?”- “No. I mean.. I mean ‘bout any of this. About the dead and John Hobbes. Will. Rotke. Those cards we found. Project Buffalo. I need to tell you something, Sam. It’s about tonight and what happened at the show.”- Sam gestured to the dark underground, his flashlight beam bouncing off the metal and earth. “You want to have this conversation now? Here?”- “Shhh, listen. This fella brought a comb for me to read. Sam, it was James’s comb,” Evie said, heeping one hand on his back to steady herself.” (..) “ I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know anything anymore. Like you and me, for instance.”- “There is no you and me. You made that pretty clear tonight. Listen, you asked me to play a part, and I did. From now on, I travel solo.”- “Now who’s lying? You forget. I read your personal effects. I know you.”- “You know bupkes.”- “I’ve seen you. The true you. I’ve held your secrets in my hands. You’re scared, Sam. You’re pretend you’re not, but you are. Just like the rest of us.” (…) He hated that Evie had unsettled him like this. That was the trouble with letting people in- once you’d taken off the armor, it was hard to put it back on. (..) “ You steal whatever you like and never think about what it costs anyone,” Evie said, eyes brimming with tears.- “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I got no defenses against girl tears.”- “You can’t have my tears, Sam Lloyd. I revoke them. But don’t go tellin’ me what I know. ‘Cause you don’t know.”- “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about anymore.” “

“ “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Theta tugged the gloves free. - “Why couldn’t I have been a dream walker? Why’d it have to be object reading?”- “Come on, Sheba. You can do this.” Sam nudged her. (..) - “A ship. I’m on a ship.” Evie said. She gagged. “Seasick.”- “You okay?” Sam’s voice. - “You care.” Evie murmured.- “What?” Sam said.- “Nothing.” Evie mumbled. “ “

“ “Here,” Sam said, handing Evie the skull. “You can carry that. Merry Christmas. “- Evie’s mouth twisted in revulsion. “You’ve ruined the joy of the season for me forever.” “

“ “What kinda prayer do you say to get rid of a ghost?” Theta asked.- “I surely don’t know. But I expect a prayer of any kind is better than none.”( Memphis)- All of them bowed their heads except for Sam. “Sam?” Evie nudged him with an elbow.- “ Trust me: If God exists, he’ll know I’m faking it.” “

“ “Sam!” Sam said, hugging himself. “You’re welcome. Don’t mention it.” “

“ “Sam, I think we should tell them what we’ve found.”- “Nothing doing.”- “Either you do it or I will.”- “This is twice you’ve done this to me. Remind me never to tell you a secret again.”- “It’s not your secret anymore.”- “Fine.” “

“ “ So what’s keeping this door open? How did it get left open? And why are these ghosts so powerful?” Ling pressed.- “We don’t know!” Evie, Sam and Henry said as one.” “

“ “ Oh, don’t worry- I’ll help you. But I’m not giving up my show. Nothin’ doing. Same old Uncle Will. Only looking out for himself.”- “ You’re one to talk, kid.” Sam snapped.- “ Says the thief.” Jericho said.- Sam smirked. “Pal, I’ve never pretended I wasn’t looking out for myself. And anyway, you should be happy now that coast is clear.” He jerked his head in Evie’s direction. Too late, he caught Mabel’s pained expression. Nice going, Lloyd. Great work. “Applesauce,” he muttered, feeling like a real heel. “ “

“ “ Well, if it isn’t the former future Mrs. Sam Lloyd.”- “Don’t start with me, Sam. Oh, and I see the Herald ran with your story last week.” With one gloved hand, Evie blocked out an imaginary headline in the air. “ ‘Wedding Not in the Cards for Sweetheart Seer and Hero- Diviner Sam Lloyd’ Hero- Diviner.” Evie rolled her eyes. “And how come you got a first and a last name?”- “What can I say? I lead a charmed life. Look, that’s all water under the bridge. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. Bigger than you and me. Can we agree on that?”- “ That depends. Will you be speaking in clichés on the primrose path of our glorious future?”- “Evie.”- “ Yes. Fine…. Say, why didn’t you needle Uncle Will and Sister Walker for more answers about Project Buffalo? They know more than they’re telling us.”- “ Exactly! You play much poker?”- “Not really.”- “I can tell. We got us a poker game here.” “

“ “ Remember my informant on Project Buffalo?”- “ Your creepy man?”- “The same. Fella named Ben Arnold. This was sent to me at the museum, no return address.” Sam handed Evie a small, back- pages newspaper mention of a mysterious death. “He was found dead on an ash heap in Queens. He’s been strangled with piano wire.”- Exasperated, Evie handed the article back. “There’s no need for me to read it if you’re just going to narrate the whole thing, Sam.”- “ Okay. We gonna have this fight now?”- Evie kept her eyes straight ahead.“ What fight? I’m not fighting.”- “You’re the one who wanted that meshuga phony romance for publicity,” Sam reminded her. “ I’m just a fella who had the decency to end it.”- Evie stopped so fast Sam had to back up. “Decency? Decency? Says the fella out every night with a different girl! ‘Jilted Sam Lloyd Finds Comfort with Chorus Girls! Hard-Hearted Hannah Evie O’Neill Breaks Hero’s Heart.’ What a lot of hooey!”- Sam leaned against the light post like owned it. “ What do you care? It’s not like you want me, right?”- Evie drew in a sharp breath. “I- I.. don’t care!” she said with a toss of her head. “But it’s embarrassing. And you get to be ‘ poor Sam’ while I’m ‘fickle Evie.’ “ - “Give the papers another few weeks, and they’ll flip the story to ‘ Poor Evie, Cad Sam.’ What am I supposed to do, sit at home and fog up the bathroom mirror with lonely sighs?”- “ Gee, can you do that? That’s a swell trick.” Evie said sarcastically. “What is it? Why are you making that face?”- “ Incredible. You actually worked up a little angry spot in the corner of your mouth right there...”- Evie batted Sam’s finger away. “Good. It’ll make it easier for me to digest you.” “

“ “ Truce?”- “Truce. Should we tell the others that we’re still looking into Project Buffalo?”- “ Not till we find out what’s on those cards. For now, it’s our secret.”- “ And Woody’s.”- “ T. S. Woodhouse. How could I forget you told that rat reporter about Project Buffalo? Fine. Let the bum see what he can find. But that’s on you. I’m not paying him.”- “Fine.” “

“ “ Well, this had been fun. I’m headed that way. Plenty of pockets to pick this time of evening.”- “ Then I’m going the other way. Toward civilization.”- “ Always a pleasure, Lamb Chop.”- “Just remember, Sam Lubovitch Lloyd!”- “What?”- “You still owe me twenty bucks!” “

“ “Say, how come Memphis and Isaiah call you Sister?”- “ We know her. She was friends with our mama. She lives near us.” Isaiah said.- Sam tried out his most charming smile on Sister Walker. “So can I call you Sister, too?” - “You may call me Miss Walker.” “

“ If Evie read an object when Sam was near, she was somehow able to reach much deeper into the object’s past. “It’s almost as if your don’t see me routine has the opposite effect on my reading, Sam.”- “ I’ll send you a bill.” He joked.- “ I’ll deduct twenty clams.” “

“ “ Evie, since Sam seems to affect your reading ability, let’s see if you have any sway over his powers. Come sit close to him, if you would, please.” Sister Walker said. (..) She liked the way he smelled, like spicy aftershave and something else, something she could only describe as Sam. Sam squinted at her.- “You jake? You look funny.”- “I’m fine. Just.. don’t steal anything from me.”- “Here goes. Don’t see me.” Theta blinked and Sam’s shoulders sagged. She could see him losing confidence.- “Try again. Go all out.”- “You sure?” Sam said quietly.- “Yeah. Think about putting me right to sleep.”- “ Sam’s good at that.” Evie grumbled.” “

“ “Sam? Sam!”- “You’re already tried that little stunt, Evie.” She could hear Sam’s voice, but she couldn’t see him. (..) Other than Evie herself, only Memphis and Sister Walker were alert.- “I’m not pulling your leg, Sam. Honest!” Evie put out a hand and yelped when she touched something solid. He was right next to her. “Sam. You’re invisible!”- “I am?” (..)- “Twenty- two seconds,” Sister Walker said, clearly excited. “That’s how long you were invisible.”- “ Five seconds. That’s how long it’s gonna take me to give you a black eye.” Evie said.- Ling blinked. “Wh- what happened?”- “Sam went invisible. Unfortunately, he came back.” Evie told her.- Ling opened her notebook, excited. “Where- where did you go when you disappeared? Do you feel strange in any way?”- “Sam is strange in every way.” Jericho said. (…) - “ Why doesn’t Sam’s power affect you, Miss Walker?” Evie asked.- “Training. I suspect Memphis’s healing powers make him immune. As for you, Evie, it would appear that you and Sam share a special bond.”- “Swell.” “

“ “ Kinda funny when you think about it.”- “What’s that?” Will asked.- “ Me and Isaiah. Evie. Memphis. Ling. Henry. And-” Sam quickly stopped himself from saying Theta. “Us. We got a Jew, two Negroes, a half-Chinese-half-Irish girl. Coupla Catholics. Sounds like the start of some really awful joke the stuffed shirts would tell behind closed doors.”- “What’s your point?” Ling asked.- “Well, people like to say we’re not true Americans, whatever that means. But we’re the ones with these powers.” Sam shrugged. “It’s just kinda funny is all.” He caught Sister Walker throwing a meaningful glance Will’s way. It was quick but noticeable.”

“ What about Sam?.. (..) And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t still carry a torch for him. Was it normal to have a crush in two boys at the same time?”

“ “ Mabel! Say, this is a nice surprise.”- “ Sam, could you steal me a movie camera?”- “ That is, without a doubt , the most interesting question I’ve been asked today. And considering the day involved talk about ghosts and the end of the world, that’s saying something.” “

“ “ Spooky spirit sketches.” Sam grumbled.- “ Nice alliteration.” Memphis said.- “Nice what?”- “ Alliteration. It’s when you repeat the same consonant in phrase.”- “Huh. I was hoping it was something dirty.”- “Ignore him, Memphis.” Jericho said with a roll of his eyes. “We all do.” “

“ “ If I have to look through one more of these, I’m throwing myself off that balcony.” he moaned.- “Let me know if you need help,” Jericho said as he calmly restored Sam’s discarded book to its rightful place on the shelves. Memphis laughed. Those two. They were like squabbling brothers. Their arguments were better than going to the pictures.” “

“ The professor used to decorate for Christmas? That may be the most surprising thing I’ve learned today.”

“ You don’t get it, do you? You have the strongest power, Memphis.”

“ “Do you think I’m selfish?”- Sam laughed. “ Is that a trick question?””

“ “.. Oh, I see. It only counts if everybody knows about it. Don’t you get enough attention?”… “ I’m an odd fella, but I know I’m an odd fella. What I can’t figure out is why you gotta make yourself crackers trying to be somebody you can’t ever be instead of just letting yourself be the one and only Evie O’Neill.” ”

“ Every time I go somewhere with you, Sam, I’m sure it’ll be the end of me. And my shoes.”

“ “Don’t see me.” The man went slack. Sam reached into his pocket and took out a chunk of cash.- “Sam!” Evie said, looking over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”- “We might need extra money for information.”- “That’s terrible!”- “Yeah? Say, when did you develop a conscience?”- “ About the time I started reading people’s secrets for a living,” Evie said, but she was laughing. “And I hate having a conscience. Very inconvenient.”- Sam unfolded the man’s money, lifted a twenty, and put the rest back in the man’s pocket. “Happy now, Sheba?”- Evie pursed her lips and looked toward the ship’s ceiling. “That depends. Are you sore about it, Sam?”- “Yes.”- She looped her arm through his. “Then I’m happy.”- Sam burst into laughter. “Okay, Lamb Chop. You win.” “

“ That was what he couldn’t tell her- that the end of their fake romance was really about saving himself. He’d gone goofy for her, and if she broke his heart, that would be the end of the best friendship he’d ever had. He couldn’t risk that.”

“ “Holy moly! You always drive that fast?”- “Slow is for chumps.”- “ Well, I’d like to be a live chump. Take it easy, will ya?” “

“ “ You kept those and I’m the bad guy?”- “ Sam, you steal from people all the time.”( Jericho)- “ Just like Robin Hood.”- “He gave to the poor.”- “So… I’m poor.”

“ “Okay if I fill Sam in?” Evie said.- “You’ll have to. Otherwise , he’ll never shut up.”( Jericho.”) “

“ “ Fours are unlucky. The word for four sounds like the word for death.” Ling said.- Sam looked from Ling to Jericho and back. “You know what? I’m gonna call you two the spooky twins.” “

“ “Evie and I broke in” Sam said.- “ Did anyone see you breaking in?”- “No. Why?”- Will let out of a deep breath. “Because .. because that was government office and you could be arrested.”- “ Still waiting for that answer.” Sam demanded.- “Yes, we all are.” Evie chimed in. “

“ Will paled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”- Sam snorted. “Why didn’t I tell you? Oh. That’s rich. You’re the ones who’ve been keeping secrets about us from us and telling us to trust you!” “

“ “Sam?” Evie asked.- “ Yeah, okay. I’m in. But for us.” Sam said.

“ “ The unwanted dead? I sure hope they stay put while we’re here.” Sam whispered to Evie.- “ Gotta hand it to you, Sheba, you sure know how to have fun.” Woody said, and popped his chewing gum. “

“ “ Baby Vamp, with your moxie and my good looks..”Sam spread his arms wide.- “So we’re half-doomed is what you’re telling me. Well. I suppose you can always just..” Evie wiggled her fingers.- “What, dry my nail varnish? Pretend I’m a bird? Play an imaginary piano?” Sam said.- “No! Do your don’t see me trick.”- “How come yours is a ‘gift’ and mine is a ‘trick’? I’m insulted.”- “Just make yourself useful, Sam.”- Woody laughed. “ Shame you two called off your engagement. You’re a perfect couple.” “

“ “ Hold still. I want to get a picture, Evie, lean it, will ya? “Woody urged, taking a long-snouted accordion camera from his reporter’s bag.- “ To the man who tried to kill her?” Sam said. ” Nothing doing.” ”

“ “I can’t believe we actually got thrown out of an asylum.” Sam said.- “ I prefer ‘firmly escorted from the premises’.” “

“ “ I’ll think of something.” Evie said.-” Yes, you will. And that’s what I’m afraid of.” “

“ That’s how you behave like a human.” Evie whispered to Sam. “ Takes notes so you can remember.” “

“ “Stole it off Molly,” Sam said. ��It’s the key to his room.”- “ So that’s why you were cozying up to her.”- “ That, and she’s a real tomato.”- “Once again, Sam, I don’t know if I want to kiss or kill you.”- “ Better kiss me, then, to make sure.” Sam said, and winked.- “Come on, Romeo.” “

“ Dammit, Evie! Stay here. Lock yourself in. I’ll get her.” Sam said, and gave chase.”

“ “ They want me to be sorry ‘bout how I done Father Hanlon, but I ain’t. He shouldn’t tried to take Jimmy for ice cream.”- “ Yeah? Why’s that?”- “I didn’t want him to do to Jimmy what he done to me.”( Conor)- “ What did Father Hanlon do to you?”- “He tol’ me nobody would believe me. His words against mine.” ( ..) - The full horror of it rose up from Sam’s stomach. “So, you tried to stop him from hurting anybody else?.. I understand. You’re not wicked, kid. Somebody is, but it ain’t you.” “

“ Me not want to be with you? Are you kidding?”

“ I’m in an asylum. Being chase by ghosts. Evie is kissing me. He didn’t know which of those seemed the most far-fetched. “

“ “Kiss us, kiss us!” the ghosts demanded.- “Sorry. I only date one at a time.”

“ Yeah. You’re gonna hate me for this but.. “And with that, Sam pushed her out of the window. Sam heard her land with an “Oof” followed by angry “Saaam!”- “She’s okay,” Sam said, nodding. “You’re next.” “

“ Evie yanked him to safety by the edge of his shirt ripping it. “ Thanks. You owe me a shirt,” Sam said.- “ You owe me twenty dollars.””

“ We can sort this out later. Right now we gotta figure out how to get these ghosts to go away.” Sam said. “Who’s got ideas? “ No one spoke. “Don’t all jump in at once. Form an orderly line.”

“ “ Here you are: The thief. The fire starter. The object reader. The dream walkers. The clairvoyant. And the healer. Do you know who I am?”- “ The man in the stovepipe hat.” Evie whispered, frightened.- “I prefer the King Of Crows. After all, why be a man when you can be a king?” “

“ “ Let us play a game to see if you worthy of my largesse.”- “We’re not playing anything with you.” Said Sam.”

“ See, that’s your generation all over- you muck up everything and then expect us to fix your messes.” Sam growled.”

“ Sam ran after Evie, calling her name. She sank to her knees on the museum’s damp yard. Sam scooped her up and held her to him. “ Hey, hey, hey. Sheba. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Listen, you and me and the others. We’ll see this thing through. All right? C’mon, Baby Vamp. Shake your head if you hear me.” (…) Sam cupped her face gently. “You. Me. All of us. No matter what.” Finally, Evie allowed a small nod, whether of agreement or defeat, Sam couldn’t be sure. But it was a start. He helped her to her feet. The others were in the yard now.”

“ Swell. We’re the only Diviners ghost service in town without a meeting place.” Sam said.”

“ “.. and me.. I mean I know you were possessed. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have… you know. And with such… enthusiasm.”- Evie blushed. “Right. I- I wasn’t in control.”- “Yeah. Just.. ghosts.”- “Ghosts.”- “Thought so.” Sam managed a weak smile. “Well, there’s still a little time left in this miserable night, and I know a speakeasy on Fifty- second where the dames are happy to see you at this hour.”- “Yes, wouldn’t want to disappoint your harem.”- “You know.. Never mind.” “

“ “ Sam, I don’t think you should go anywhere by yourself.”- “ Yeah? You offering to be my bodyguard, Lamb Chop? Gee, that’ll be kinda awkward on my dates, won’t it?”- “Fine. Get pinched by those creepy Shadow Men. See if I care.” (..) - “A what?”- “A noodge. A little prodding. I’m getting antsy here.”- “Fine. I’ll send him an urgent letter.. Noodge? Is that a real world?”- “ It’s Yiddish. Like… Ikh hob dikh lib.”- Evie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What does that mean?”- Sam smiled. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

“ He opened the door and hold out the rose. “Welcome.”- “Aww, Freddy, you shouldn’t have, “Sam said, taking the rose and threading it through the buttonhole of his coat. “This is so sudden! I don’t know what to say. Oh, okay. You’ve won me over, you big brute. The answer is yes.” With that, Sam jumped into Jericho’s arms.”

“ “ So this is where the party is. Sorry I missed it,” Sam said, barging through the doors. He gave Evie and Jericho a long sideways glance. Then he walked around the room as if studying it.”- “ Are you casing the joint, Sam?” Evie asked, annoyed by his interruption.- “ No. I’m having déjà vu.” Sam folded his arms and squinted at the meticulous of paintings of pinch-mouthed men.- “ Again?” Henry quipped, coming into the room along with Ling.- “Because you were here before,” Evie said. “I remember it from reading, your mother’s photograph. This is where she brought you when you were little. “ “

“ Evie sneaked out, closing the door quietly behind her. When she turned around, she yelped in surprise. Sam was a few feet away, leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. “You startled me” she said.- Sam wasn’t his usual good-time, smirking self. In fact, he looked as if someone had run over his dog. “What is it about that guy?”- “ I don’t know what you mean.”- “ Come on, Evie. Don’t con a con man.” “

“ Maybe you’re the one who’s miserable. You’re certainly conceited.”- “At least I know how to make a girl laugh.”- “ And put her hair out.”- “You know, some girls like that hair- pulling.”- “Then remind me to shave my head bald.”- “Wait! Just answer me this: Does he make you happy?”- “If you must know, he makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the room.”- “That’s not the same thing.”- Why was he doing this to her? “Are you one of this fellas who only likes a girl if another fella wants her? Maybe you should ask yourself that question. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to dress for dinner.” She said moving past him.- Sam reached out and held her hand softly. “Evie..”- For just a minute, she was reminded of their fake romance. Except that the expression on his face seemed very real. Was it real? Was anything with Sam real?” “

“ “What do we do now?” Henry asked.- “ Nothing, that’s what.” Sam said, sinking down onto one of the beds. “We can’t read these cards, we can’t find any other Diviners. We can’t know about ourselves and what they did to us. And I can’t use that information to find my mother.” Sam buried his head in his hands. “Could you.. not look at me right now? Thanks.”- Evie had never seen Sam like this. He was usually the one finding a way forward. It was a little scary to see him at such a loss. She reached for the mangled card.- Sam glanced up. “What are you doing?”- “ I’m going to try to read it.” Evie said, sitting beside Sam on the bed.- “You already told us you can’t read it.” Ling said.- “I couldn’t before. I still might not be able to do it. But we might. We already know that together we can strengthen one another’s energy and skills. With all of us working together, I might be able to break through.”- “You’ll be sick.”- Sam warned.- “So I’ll be sick.”- “Are you sure, doll? “ “

“ Sam” Evie whispered. “Can you help me see better?” Sam’s hand was on her shoulder. She could feel him. And then, all at once, she broke through layers of old memories to Rotke Wasserman. Rotke knew what was on the cards!”

“ I’ll help you to your room, doll.” Sam said, jumping up before Jericho could. It was petty on his part. He didn’t regret it.”

“ Wait a minute, he thought. I can. It was a risk. He wasn’t sure how much time he’d have. But Sam loved risks. He was a gambler, through and through. He grinned. “Why the hell not?”- “Don’t see me.” He said, cloaking himself. Hey, Jericho, he thought with a snort. I can do something you can’t do, pal. And then he let himself into the room. “

“ “When that son of a bitch wakes up, I’m gonna punch his lights out.”- “No, you’re not. That won’t solve anything.”- “It might.”- “ It won’t. And I’m perfectly all right.”- “Bushwa, you are! You’re still shaking.” Sam said.” Excuse my language.” “

“ “ She’s not going anywhere with you, pal. Not without the rest of us.”- “ I can speak for myself, Sam.””

“ “You.. you talked to my mother?” For all the reasons Sam had disliked Jericho, this one hurt the most. Why would she speak to these other fellas- like Jericho, of all people- and not to her own son.” “

“ He’d been thinking of Evie. Why couldn’t he just let go? Sam didn’t open up to many people. But there was something about Evie that drew him out and made him vulnerable. Sam had been up in an aeroplane with Barnstormin’ Belle. He’d flown on the trapeze and walked a wire with the circus. Most people thought that was bravery. But nothing was braver than letting somebody really know you, warts and all. Nothing was braver than trying to love and be loved.”

“ And Evie realized that Sam had been right- no matter how much she tried to make herself fit, eventually, the real, smart-mouthed Evie would come bursting out of the confining party cake with all of her opinions and wounds on display.”

“ “I need you to trust me on something.” Memphis said.- “Okay, pal.” Sam said. “You’re scaring me, but okay.” “

“ “You’re telling me not to lose hope because there are pirate pictures?”- “I’m trying here, Baby Vamp. When you’re facing evil, a good pirate picture doesn’t hurt.”- “What else?”- “ Nah. I’ve told you already.”- “Oh, please. Just one more.”- “Just one more, huh?”- “ Yeah. But make it a really good one.”- “A good one.”- “ Yes.”- “Okay.” Sam’s heart thudded against his ribs. He was dizzy. “Then how about this.” And with that, he leaned forward and kissed her. Evie put a hand to her lips and stared at Sam. “Um. You might say something here. Or slap me. Hoping it’s not that, though.” Sam joked, and swallowed hard.- “How do I know that’s real?” Evie said after she’d caught her breath.- “Let me prove it.” Sam kissed her again, longer this time. And for the first time that night, Evie did feel loved. Sam wasn’t telling her to act more like a “good girl.” he didn’t want her to be anybody but who she was. Why had she tortured herself by not letting him in?- “I’m still not convinced. You.. you might have to make your case more strongly.”- Sam’s grin was wolfish, but inside he was balloons and champagne, a full goddamn birthday party. “Sure thing, Lamb Chop.”- Evie put a finger to Sam’s lips and frowned. “ I believe I have made my feelings about that name plain.”- Sam licked up the length of her finger, drawing a grasp from here. “What can I say? I’m a naughty boy.”- “How naughty?”- “ Would you like to find out?”- Evie knew she could come back with a quip, but everything felt too real right now. She needed to be real with someone. “I would. But I’m afraid of what I’ll find out. I just need something that doesn’t feel like a lie.”- “Okay.” Sam swallowed hard, took a deep breath. “ Then here it is: All the times I say, ‘Don’t see me’? With you, I wish I had an opposite power: See me. See me, Evie. See all of me. There’s a fella who loves you right here. I’m not perfect. I’m handful. But you know what? So are you. There. Not sugarcoating it.”- “But.. what if I love you and you go away?“ Evie said, almost a whisper. - “ Sheba, I’m sitting across from you right now. Don’t you see that I’m not going anywhere?” And she knew he was being honest. There was such fear In the world. But love was everywhere if you looked. It was the best thing about humans. That they could stare into the abyss and still open up their hearts. A spit in the eye to fear. ”

“ “Wha-what’s the matter?”- “You’re not possessed by ghosts this time, are you?”- “Sam, honestly!”- “ Just checking.”- Evie kissed her way up the salty sweetness of his throat, to his ear, which she nibbled very softly, then whispered, “I am the Forgotten, forgotten no more.”- “Holy moly!” Sam jumped an Evie’s fell back against the pillow in a fit of laughter.- “Oh, Sam, your face!”- “Not amusing, Sheba.” Sam chided, but he was laughing, too.” “

“ Evie lifted Sam’s undershirt over his head and kissed the scar near his collarbone. “ Aerialist accident in the big tent.” Sam explained.- “ Mmm. Tell me later.” “

“ And then, suddenly, the whole night was too much. She was afraid. It was silly, wasn’t it? She’d been ruined by Jake Marlowe and Sarah Snow. They’d faced a street full of ghosts, and she was afraid of this, this joining of bodies, this step toward love? Her cynicism was leaving her. She was opening herself up to something more. It was somehow the scariest thing in the whole world. “ Could we.. could we just lie next to each other?” Evie said, eyes brimming with tears. “Just for a little while?”- “You’re killing me, Sheba.”- “Please? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”- Sam lifted her chin. “ Hey. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” With that, he flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling with great concentration. - “What are you doing?” Evie asked.- “Thinking of the least sexual thing I can imagine. Ghost bubbes. They’re making ghost borscht and talking about their bowel troubles. Jeepers. I might never make love again. This is traumatic.”- Evie burst out laughing. Then: “Sam. I changed my mind.”- “About..?”- “You know.” She reached under the covers and touched him, biting her lip at the surprise of what she felt.- Sam gasped. “You sure?” His voice was soft and a little breathy. Evie nodded. “You’re sure-sure?”- “Sh-shut up and k-kiss me, Sam.” “

“ He scribbled a quick note- gotta run an important errand. I’ll be back by ten. He wrote I love you, then scribbled it out. Too soon? Too soon. Instead, he addressed the note to “ Lamb Chop.” She’d be so annoyed. Grinning, he grabbed his fisherman’s cap and coat. “I love you,” he whispered quietly. “ Ikh hob dikh lib.” He kissed Evie’s head. She rustled in her sleep, turning away. “Fine. I see how it is. I just wasted my best Yiddish on you, “ Sam joked to himself. He loved her. Was in love with her. Had always loved her. And it seemed that she loved him too. It was funny how the world could change on a dime like that. One minute, you were some poor chump pining after a girl you thought didn’t feel the same way about you, and the next, you were lying together, arms entwined, chest to chest, so close you could feel her heartbeat under her soft skin. You were looking into her eyes and seeing your whole future written there.”

“ He had friends. He had a home in them. And Evie was home, too.”

“He’ll tell Evie everything. Let her know that he loved her. Let her know how much he loved her.”

“ Help me. Can’t you see this isn’t right? But the people liked the answer the men in dark suits had supplied; it absolved them of any responsibility, and they moved on with their busy lives. “

“ In her hotel room, Evie paced, stopping only when she realized she was acting just like Will. Where was Sam? He’d promised to be there by ten, and it was now nearly ten thirty.”

“ Lefty told Evie about the men who’d come and taken Sam away in the brown sedan. By the time he’d finished, Evie was more frightened than ever. She gave Lefty a dollar and asked him to keep what he knew quiet for his own protection. Sam’s hat sat in her hands. She could feel it wanting to whisper its messages to her. “ Show me where you are, Sam.” “

“My dear Mr. Phillips. You can’t fire me. I quit.”

“ I’m going to find Sam. Those Shadow Men took him. I know it. And I’m going to follow every clue until I hunt him down and get him back.”

“ No! He is pos-i-tutely not dead! Besides, if anybody is going to have the pleasure of murdering Sam Lloyd, it ought to be me.”- Theta chuckled and shook her head. “You two. I don’t know whether to hope you get married or hope you never do.” “

“ “ Wait just a minute- when did this happen? Who arranged it?” Ling asked.- “Jericho and I did.” Evie said.- “Without asking the rest of us? Who died and made you boss?”- “My uncle Will.” Evie said through her teeth.” “

“ We have to save Sam. I won’t let him to be fed to that awful thing.”

“ My kingdom for a toothbrush, and some aspirin.”

“ “ Where the hell am I?”- “ Hello, Sam. Or do you prefer Sergei?”- “I’d prefer that you let me out of here.”

“ It had been ten years since he’d last seen her. Ten years since she’d kissed him good-bye and gone to work on Project Buffalo. She seemed smaller to him now that he was older. “Mama?”- “Sergei!” (..) There were more words, all in their native Russian: Are you hurt? Nyet. I love you. I love you, too, Mama. And: You got so big! Which made Sam laugh despite the circumstances, because mothers were mothers no matter what. He hadn’t been wrong. She was alive. All this time, alive. And these were the sons-of-bitches who’d destroyed their family, who’d kept them apart and lied about it, telling Sam’s father that Miriam had died of influenza back in 1918.- “Take her outta those chains.”- “I’m afraid I can’t do that… (..) “ Sam had never felt such blinding rage. He’d always wondered what would happen if he came face-to-face with the men who’d taken his mother. Wondered if he was capable of murder. Now he knew that he was.” “

“ “Easy, chump.”- “Who are you calling a chump?”- “Did I say chump? I meant champ. I get my vowels mixed up.” (..) Sergei. Be careful.- I do what I like, he thought, unsure if his mother could hear it.- Don’t be a pisher.- Yep. She could hear him.” “

“ “Mr. Adams. That was unnecessary.” Jake Marlowe said. - “Yeah. Make him say he’s sorry.” Sam goaded.- “ I’m sure he is.” Jake said with paternal disinterest.- Sam glared at Adams, who mouthed, I’m not sorry.” “

“ “Safe from what?” Sam repeated.”

“ Hey. Hey! Leave my mother alone! Okay, now? Now I’m mad. You made me mad. You listening to me, Mr. Heebie- Jeebies Adams and your friend, Jokes Jefferson? When I got up out of this chair, you will be sorry. Very sorry. I’m not kidding. You don’t want to fool around with me. I’m really, really mad.”

“ Fine for me or fine for the chair?… No, you don’t understand. I hate needles. A lot. I-”

“ He wanted out of his body. “ Please,” he whispered. “Please, don’t.” “

“ Split. Evie was just out of reach, and he was screaming at her to stop, to come back. Why? Sam wanted to follow that future to see where it led because it frightened him.”

“ You can also close doors. I’m just saying, some door are very good closed.”

“ “Evie. Nice hat.” Jericho said crisply.- “Thank you. I’m rather fond of it. And the person it belongs to.” “

“ We are. But first we’re going to rescue Sam.”

“ “ Can you hear me?”- “Yes. I’m Evie. I’m Sam’s friend. We’re trying to find him. We’re here to rescue him.”- “ It is hard for me with so much iron. They hold him below. Third door on right. You must go quickly.” “

“ “Sam?” she whispered into the darkened room.- “ Evie? Is that you?” Sam’s weak voice nearly wrecked Evie’s heart. He sounded sick. Broken. (..) His eyes were glassy, haunted. “Evie?”- “Sam! Oh Sam!” Evie ran over and unlatched the restraints, freeing him. She scooped him up in her arms. He fell against her chest, limp.- “ Baby Vamp, is that really you?”- “It’s really me. “ Evie said and kissed him gently on the lips. He stared into her eyes.- “Why do you look like a hobo?”- “I’ll explain later. Did he hurt you?”- “ Will you kiss me some more if I say yes?”- “I will kiss you as much as you like.” And with that, Evie kissed Sam deeply.- “Ew.” Isaiah said, embarrassed. He looked to Theta, who rolled her eyes.- “ Give ‘em a minute, kid.” Sam pulled away. His shoulders shook, and it took Evie a second to realize that he was crying.- “Oh, Sam, Sam.” Evie threw her arms around him again.- “ I’m afraid this isn’t real,” he said between hiccupping sobs. “I’m afraid in a minute I’ll wake up and I’ll be here but you won’t be.”- “I’m here, Sam, and I promise I will never leave you again.” She wiped his cheeks with her scarf. He looked so sad and bruised by life it nearly killed her.- Sam cupped Evie’s face between his dry palms. “You’re real.”- “Yes.”- “ You’re here with me now.”- “ You bet-ski.” (…) - “Theta.” Sam said in wonder. He held both of her hands.- “Missed you, too, you little criminal.”- “Hi, Sam.” Isaiah waved.- “Hey, kid. You got taller.” “

“ “ Lamb Chop, what’s your plan getting out of here?”- “We don’t have a plan.” Isaiah said.- “We’re.. improvising!” Evie added.- “Oh, shit.” Sam said and buried his face in his hands.- “ Sam Lloyd, don’t make me regret coming to rescue you!”- “I’m just saying: A plan. A plan is helpful.”- “We didn’t have time to make a plan. Every bounty hunter and federal agent is out looking for us right now. We drove straight here from New York.”- “Will is dead. And Sister Walker got arrested for treason.” Isaiah said.- “Jake Marlowe declared the Diviners Public Enemy Number One at Sarah Snow’s memorial. There’s a bounty on our heads.”- “ And there’s a girl in Nebraska, another Diviner. That’s where we headed. To Bountiful.” Isaiah added. “ And I don’t know where Memphis is.”- “We got separated in Times Square.” Theta said. Sam’s eyes widened.- “So as you can see, we’ve been rather busy.” Evie said, how amazing how quickly her feelings for Sam could slip from wild love to extreme annoyance and back again. She hadn’t quite made it back again. (..) “Do you think you can walk?”- “ Yeah.” Sam said, wincing as he scooted to the edge of the bed. Evie helped him into his shoes. He grinned. “ Hey. My hat.”- Evie took it from her head and placed it on his. And just like that it was wild love again.” “

“ I’m sorry, Baby Vamp.” Sam laced his fingers with hers. “ I promise we’ll figure it out. We’ll save your brother and my ma.”

“ “Baby Doll’s right. I say it’s time we run away and join the circus.”- “ Oh, Sam, be serious.” Evie grumbled.- “I am serious!”- “Sam! Please.” “

“ “Can I pet the tiger?”( Isaiah)- “Sure you can. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”

“ “ Look at you! Why, you’re a man now!”( Zarilda)- “Yeah. I suppose I am.” Sam said proudly.- Evie rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother.”

“ “ Sam, are you sure you should be doing that? After all you’ve been through?”- “Everything’s jake, Baby Vamp.” “

“ Evie held her breath as Sam straightened into a perfect handstand balancing atop Hasan’s palms, raised high above his head, and held that position longer than she thought possible. Then, with a perfect grace, Sam flipped backward in a somersault and landed on his feet. “Like riding a bicycle.” Sam said.- Theta applauded. “That was the berries, Sam! And here I thought I was the elephant’s eyebrows’ cause I can top-dance.”- “You are the elephant’s eyebrows, Theta.” Sam said.- “What about me?” Evie asked, throwing her arms around Sam’s neck.- “You’re the full elephant.”- Evie wrinkled her nose. “That was a compliment?”- “And how.” ”

“ “Where’d ya pick her up, Sam?”- “Would you believe a museum of the occult?” ”

“ “A… clown?”- “Best way I can think of to disappear.”- “It had to be clowns.” (..) Sam grinned and elbowed Theta, who tried not to laugh. - “How ‘bout that? Your outside finally matches your insides, Baby Doll.” Sam said.” - “This is pos-i-tutely the worst moment of my life.” “

“ Aw, I think you’re just about the cutest clown I’ve ever known.”

“ “Zenith. I’d almost rather have the Shadow Men take me.”- Sam got quiet. “Don’t say that.”- “Sam.. Sam! Oh, Sam. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” She threw her arms around his neck and covered his face with kisses.- “Say. I like the way you apologize.”- “Don’t get used to it.” Evie said with a laugh. “I’m very rarely wrong, don’t you know. Oh, Sam. Won’t you tell me what’s eating you?” “

“ There had been a future without her. And that had frightened him the most. But how could he tell her that?”

“ “Would you mind apologizing to me again?”- “I am sorry, Sam.”- “ See, I don’t believe you’re sorry.”- “How about now?”- “The question is how sorry?” He wanted to hold her all day and all night.- “Very, very sorry.” “

“ He didn’t want her go. Ever. “Wait! You gonna apologize for that comment about Hattie?” Sam pointed to his lips. Evie grinned and kept walking.- “Not on your life, Sam Lloyd. You still owe me twenty clams.” Sam watched her go, fighting the urge to run after her and beg her to stay with him all night.”

“ “I’ve had worse.”- “Wish I’d known that before I kissed you.” “

“ The people watched the circus and Evie watched the people. Can’t you see? She thought. You are the whole circus.”

“ “How did he.. look?”- “Not.. good.”- “Well. That was very descriptive, Miss Knight. Thank You.” ( Evie, Theta) “

“ “ I wanted you to know that I’m not criminal. I.. I wanted you to know that you were a good mother, and that.. I love You.”- “Well, I appreciate that.”- The disappointment stung. Deep down, Evie had known her mother was who she was. She was never going to sweep Evie into a warm, motherly hug and tell her daughter that she loved her no matter what. But knowing that didn’t stop Evie from wanting that elusive affection. Hoping for it. This time. (..) There were bare spots on the wall, and Evie realized that those were the places where the pictures of her had once been displayed. They were all gone. She had been erased from the family story. --- Evie cried the whole way back to the circus camp. (…) - “Aw, c’mon, Pork Chop. I was only teasing. Hey, Baby Vamp?” Evie did not break stride. The circus went blurry. She blinked but it only happened again. She didn’t know where she was going. The fields were loud with barkers enticing folks into tents. All these people. Did any of them feel truly loved?- “ Baby Vamp?” Sam had caught up to her outside the empty elephant cage. “Aw, Sheba. You’re crying.”- “You’re very observant.” She shot back, and then she couldn’t stop herself from sobbing. Sam pulled her to him and wrapped her in a hug.- “It’s okay, Doll. It’s okay.” He murmured and kissed the top of her head.- “What’s the matter?” Theta’s voice.- Evie was still crying and so didn’t know what Sam whispered to Theta over the top of her head. She only knew that now there were two sets of arms around her, holding her close, holding her up. She only knew that she had family after all.” “

“ Theta pulled Evie back to safety. The ghost pointed a bony finger at Evie. “You’ll be sorry. You’ll be sorry.”- “You’re the one who’ll be sorry.” Sam barked. He joined hands with Theta and Evie.” “

“ “ Hey. I hope I didn’t wake you. I had the strangest dream..”- “ A map. Gideon, Kansas. Mabel?” Evie asked.- “Okay. We might be spending too much time together.” Sam said.”

“ “I. Won’ t. Give. Up.” Evie whispered.”

“ Stop cellar. Sam Poor Sam. Lifting her up so all she could see was smoke and sky.”

“ Sam was frantic. “Memphis. Tell me you can heal her, pal. Please, please, tell me you can.” (..) Sam fell to his knees. There were tears in his eyes. “Memphis, I’m begging you.” (..) “What are you talking about? She’s dying!” Sam shouted.” “

“ You gotta get better, okay, Lamb Chop? I still owe you twenty clams. The Evie O’Neill I know would never let me go away with that.”

“ Sam wanted to stay all night by Evie’s bedside, but Mrs. Olson insisted it wasn’t proper for a young man to spend that night in a young lady’s room.”

“ “What’s the matter with your voice?”- “ Nothing. Just, I ate some bread and, uh, it.. it scratched my throat is all.”- “You sounded like you were gonna cry.”- “No. Naw. I don’t cry, kid.”- Sarah Beth bristled. “I keep telling you! I’m not a kid. I’m a lady.”- “Sure. Of course you are. Thank you for sitting with Evie. I’ll take over now, my lady.” “

“ Hey. Hey, Baby Vamp. It’s Sam. You remember me? The fella who’s goofy for you? I was just thinking about the first time I saw you in Penn Station. You were looking at yourself in the shop window, making sure your hat was on straight. I could see your reflection. You weren’t sure if you looked like a city girl or some rube from Ohio. My first thought seeing you.. well, my first thought was, That there is a bona fide mark, Sam Lloyd. Gonna level with you, Baby Vamp. Street smarts you did not yet have. But watching you bite your kisser and fix your hat, I thought, Why does a tomato like that doubt herself? Even then, I knew you were like the Fourth of July inside a person. And then I stole twenty bucks from you like a lousy bum. But that twenty bucks brought me back to you, so maybe I’m also a real smart bum.” Gently, Sa, brushed a curl back from Evie’s cool forehead. He was relived that at least she was no longer feverish. “ I know I got a reputation as a cake-eater and a con. I can’t keep you in pearls, and the only joint I can afford is a hash house. I never wanted my name in lights the way you did. Me? You know I operate like a shell game, don’t see me and all that jazz. But if that’s what you wanted, well, by golly, I’d be in the front row, cheering you on.” Sam cleared his throat, but his voice stayed thick. “I’m cheering you on right now, Baby Doll. I’m in that front row telling you you can do this, you can get stronger and stronger, and then you’re gonna rise up outta that bed and show us all that Evie O’Neill more. You got to, okay, honey? Because I can face just about anything the King Of Crows throws at us. But I can’t do it without you. Ikh hob dikh lib. I love you, Evie. I love you. “

“ “How long have I..”- “Three days.” Ling said.- “.. eight hours and forty-two minutes.” Sam finished. Sam was there, kneeling beside her. How happy she was to see him. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.” “

“ Sam leaned against the porch railing and grinned at Evie. “I heard the prettiest girl in the world was sitting on this porch in Nebraska.”- Henry batted his lashes. “Oh, gee. Thanks, Sam.”- Evie laughed. “I look pos-i-tutely a fright, Sam.” “

“ “A few more days, okay? I won’t almost lose you twice.” Sam said with such love that Evie was too undone to argue.- “ All right, Sam. You win. A few more days.” “

“ “I invented trouble. I know how it works. But hold on a minute. I want privacy for this next part anyhow.” Sam held Evie’s hand. “Don’t see us.” (..) He rolled a tractor nut between his grease- strained fingers. “Even seen one of these?”- Evie glanced at it. “Sure. In a picture of the crown jewels once.”- “Ha!” Sam laughed.- “What is it?”- “It’s a nut.”- “ A.. nut?”- “ Yeah. See, it, ah, it slips over a bolt like.. say, hold out your finger for a second, I’ll show you.” - Evie gave Sam a dubious look and put out her hand. “Sam Lloyd, don’t you get that struck on my finger!”- “Don’t worry. Plenty of grease on it.” Sam said. He slipped it easily on her ring finger. It was too big. “Like that.”- “And what does this nut do?”- “It joins two things together. And that makes things work. In union. Like, you know. A marriage.” Sam kept turning the nut around Evie’s finger slowly.- “Well. Now I know all about how nuts and bolts work. I’m practically an expert.” Evie want to remove the nut, and Sam covered her hand with his.- “ Don’t take it off just yet, will ya?”- “Sam?”- It seemed to Sam that he had never in his entire life been as nervous as he was just now. Or as sure. “Evie O’Neill, would you marry me?”- Evie raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we play these roles already? A few months ago?”- “ That was pretend. I mean on the level. Evie O’Neill, would you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Lamb Chop?”- Evie could scarcely catch her breath. “If you’re pulling my leg, Sam Lloyd, I swear on all things holy..” But this face didn’t have even a trace of a smirk. Evie beamed. “Well, I’m telling you right now that you’ll have to find me a better ring. I am pos-i-tutely not wearing this one.”- “Does that mean….? “- Evie laughed and threw her arms around Sam’s neck. “ Yes! Yes, Sam Lloyd. I will marry you!”- “Hot dog!” Sam lifted Evie up and twirled her around.- “ Ow!” She said and grabbed her side. “War wound.” - “ Sorry, Baby Vamp.” He said, putting her down gently. (…) “Listen, I’ll need to keep that twenty dollars I stole from you. For the ring.”- “Sam!” Evie rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh, who cares?” She said and kissed him again.” “

“ “I can do it.” Evie said, wincing from the pain in her side.- “Lamb Chop. We just got engaged. I won’t lose you.” Sam said.” “

“ “Jericho. I’m sorry. I should have told you before..”- “ Yes. Probably. Congratulations, by the way.”- “ Thank you. I don’t suppose you could be happy for me, could you?”- “I’m not not-happy for you…. I will always regret what happened.. what I did.. at Hopeful Harbor.”- “I know. Your sweetheart-”- “Guadalupe.” Jericho said and smiled.- “Guadalupe.” Evie repeated. How was it possible to feel relief, happiness, and jealousy all in one go? “Do you love her?”- Jericho blushed.” I’d prefer to keep that to myself.”- “Right. Of course. Pos-i-tutely. Say, do you remember that Ferris wheel ride up in Brethren?”- “ Yes. It was a great view from up there.”- “Yes. A truly spectacular view.”- “Really clear night, as I recall.”- “ Yes. Lots of stars.”- “ A very.. nice evening. Well, before we were chased by a murderous religious cult and nearly killed.” Evie laughed and Jericho laughed and there they were again, all the things that kept them tethered still firmly between them. But perhaps the tethering had grown looser.- “If Sam’s right and they are all those other universes out there, perhaps in one, you and I have settled down with a pack of smart, unruly children.”- Jericho only smiled. He looked out at the unbroken line of rural Nebraska.” This is the only universe I really know anything about, Evie. And you are marrying Sam. And I have a sweetheart named Lupe. And we have a mighty big fight ahead of us, something more important than this.” He took a deep breath. “You and I weren’t meant to be.”- “ Except as friends?” Evie asked hopefully.- Jericho shook his head, gave a little laugh. And then he smiled at her. A real smile. He struck out his hand. “Sure.” Evie gave it a solid shake. It felt like a prelude to good-bye, somehow. Like putting away old things to make room for new.” “

“ But Evie knew: Something truly terrifying had happened to Sarah Beth Olson.”

“ “Who was it who went with me to rescue Sam?”- “ Me.”- “ That’s right. And now I’m going to help you. That’s how it works.”- “How what works?”- Evie kissed Theta on the cheek. “This crackers little thing called friendship.” “

“ “ Here. Let’s stand in a circle.”- “If nothing else, we’ve really mastered facing one another in the round.” Sam said. Evie kicked him.” “

“ “I’m scared” Evie hadn’t meant to say it. It just crept out.- “ You’re telling the truth.” Ling said.- “Is that so unusual?”- “ Yes. You don’t always trust us.” “

“ They were part of one another. It was beyond telepathy; they were transcendence. They could feel one another’s heartbeats. It was as if they lived in one another’s skins. Jericho’s fingers wanted to move across the piano keys of Henry’s memory and the face of a beautiful boy in New Orleans. Theta’s anger and fear swirled inside Sam, but so did her joy at singing and dancing. Evie was Memphis on Lenox Avenue, a poem half-formed in his heart. Ling was Isaiah saying, “Listen. Listen!” while people talked around him, over him, ignoring him. Memphis felt a nagging pain in his legs and then a beauty of physics making sense as he became Ling and she him and they were all one being. Jericho could touch Theta’s firepower, borrow it, make it his. Isaiah reached into his brother’s healing with a mischievous joy- so that’s how it is! Somehow, they had gotten past shame and pride and fear to vulnerability. They weren’t just combining powers, they were connecting. Anticipating one another’s moves. Beating with one heart. It was like the most beautiful voice surrounding them, looping through them, promising that no one is ever alone because aloneness does not exist. All are connected.”

“ “I read her dolls. I know I shouldn’t have, but I had a bad feeling.”- “ Spare us the monologue. Skip to the end.” Theta said.” “

“”Where did Isaiah’s body go?” Henry asked quietly.- “Pal, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about what’s happening right now.” Sam said under his breath.” “

“ “My h-healing power f-for Isaiah.” Memphis said.- “Oh, that’s just terrific. That’s swell.” Sam said, angry.- Theta glared. “Stop it, Sam.”- “What are we supposed to do now? How are we supposed to heal the breach without a healer?”- “ He just lost his brother!” Theta shouted.“ “

“ “ If it comes to it, we can use our powers.” Sam said, reaching for Evie’s hand. She, in turn, reached for Henry’s.”

“ “What’s wrong with Memphis?” Marlowe asked.- “ He’s sick. So we shouldn’t do this.” Evie said.- “What’s the matter with him?”- “ Grief.”- “The loss of Isaiah is unfortunate. But we’ll still be able to carry on without him. The serum and the modifications I’ve made to the Eye should see to that.”- “You’re a real son-of-a-bitch.” Sam said.” (..)- “ I’ve had to make terrible sacrifices for progress.” Marlowe answered.- Henry clucked sympathetically. “I, too, hate it when my tea gets cold while I’m plotting destruction. Such a sacrifice.”- Marlowe stared at Henry. “How would you like it if the whole world knew about you and those degenerate clubs you haunt in Greenwich Village?”- “ How would you like it if I used you for kindling?” Theta shot back.- “Your village didn’t like it much.” Mr. Jefferson interjected with a snort.- Evie jumped up from her seat and kicked Jefferson in the shins, hard. “That’s for Theta.” She kicked him again, higher up. “And.. and.. that’s for Theta, too.”- “You still got a good kick on you, Baby Vamp.” Sam said admiringly.- “Thanks, Evil.” Theta said.- “You and me.” Evie said back to her. “If they come for one of us, they come for all of us.”- “How sentimental.” Jefferson said in a strained voice. He’d gotten back to his feet with murder in his eyes. He moved toward Evie. Marlowe held him back with his hand.- “Your department can take over once we’ve secured the land of the dead.”- Jefferson eyes Evie. “You’re mine.”- And Evie mouthed back a phrase for which she was certain her mother would still wash her mouth out with soap. Beside her, Sam grinned. “Oh, Baby Vamp. Let’s get married tomorrow. Promise?”- Evie softened. “ Promise.”

“ “I told you we’ve taken every precaution.” Marlowe, smug as usual.- “ In addition to being a lousy fella, you’re also a goddamned idiot.” Sam said. “

“Sam complained. “It hurt. A lot. I did not enjoy it. I would just like some recognition of my troubles.”- “ I will make you a swell little medal if we survive.” Evie said with a generous roll of her eyes.- Sam nodded approvingly. “I like medals. I accept.”- “Evie. I don’t suppose you still have that feather Isaiah gave you?” Henry asked.- “It’s in my pocket. Why?”- “ I don’t know. But Ling often needs an object to find the dead in a dream.”- “ It might lead us to the King Of Crows.” Evie said, thinking aloud.- Henry gave a wan smile. “See? We don’t even need to be hooked up to that big gold spider for all of us to be on the trolley.” “

“ “Here they come. Look innocent.” - “ Good luck with that, Sam Lloyd.” - “Baby Vamp?” Sam was looking at her with such affection it nearly broke her. “ Ikh hob dikh lib.”- “ I love you, too, Sam.” Evie whispered.” “

“ “ Are you sure you’d like to destroy such a magnificent machine?” The King Of Crows said.- “ Let me think.” Sam posed with his finger across his lips, as if pondering a deep dilemma. He dropped the pose and thumbed his nose at the King Of Crows. “ Yeah. I’m sure.”- “Let’s go.” Evie said.” “

“ “ I’m going to help, James, even if it means I’ll be trapped here.” Evie said.- “Whither thou goest, I will go.” Sam said, taking Evie’s hand. Evie kissed Sam’s cheek.- “ Leave it to you to quote Shakespeare at a time like this.” - Sam looked to Memphis. “Don’t tell her.” “

“ Sam? Where’s Sam? Sam. Where are you?”

“ Anybody seen Sam?”

“Sam? Sam Lloyd? Please, please, please answer me-”- “I’m here, Lamb Chop.”- Tears sprang to Evie’s eyes. “Sam?”- “Didn’t I promise you I’d be here?”- Evie ran the best she could, and it seemed to her that their kiss would be the kiss she would remember for the rest of her days. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”- Sam brushed his lips softly across her forehead and nuzzled her neck. “You’d never let me die when I owed you twenty bucks.”- “Sam?”- “ Let me guess- shut up?”- “No. No, talk to me. Keep talking to me.”- “There’ll be time.” he said and kissed her again.- “We did it.” Evie whispered.- “Little Fox!” Miriam called. She limped toward Sam. Freed from the Eye, she held her son tightly for the first time in nearly a decade. Evie stepped back, but Miriam pulled her close. “ So you are the one my Sergei loves?” She said.- “Ma.” Sam said, embarrassed.” “

“ “So. When is the big day?”- “As soon as she’ll let me.” Sam said and kissed Evie’s hand, and it made Evie so happy she was afraid her happiness was a bird that might fly away.” “

“ Mrs. Sam Lloyd, Evie thought. And then, Evie Lloyd. And then, Mrs. Evie O’Neill Lloyd, like British royalty. It would look very dignified on her calling cards. She’d mail a bunch of them back to the girls in Zenith. The pettiness of this warmed her.- “What are you smiling about?” Sam asked.- “Oh, nothing.”- “Now I’m worried.” “

“ “So, uh, how are your powers?” Sam whispered.- Memphis shook his head slowly. “Just a little left. Enough to fix your bruise, maybe.”- “I said Don’t see me to a fella the other day and he looked right at me and said, ‘What do you mean, don’t see you?’ I guess my pickpocketing days are truly behind me.” Sam said.- “ I picked up this saltshaker, and do you know what it told me?” Evie said.- Ling swallowed a bit of sandwich. “What?”- Evie put the shaker back down.” Pos-i-tutely nothing.” No more dream walking. No bursting into flames. No ghosts.- “I don’t see so much anymore. Just little things here and there.” Isaiah said with a shrug. (..) The powers that Project Buffalo had forced on them were fading away. What remained was all they had been through together. They could still feel one another, still sense one another’s moods and hurts. What remained was friendship. Was remained was love. It was, they knew, their greatest power.” “

“ “Do you know what he’s saying?” Evie asked her friends.- “Beats me. I don’t speak German.” Theta said.- The Diviners kept their eyes on the Goldbergs, who, in turn, watched the radio as if it needed watching, as if it might become a monster they could not stop. (..) And though she didn’t know German, it made her uneasy all the same. She sensed the fury underneath it. Seeds of evil. Growing. Metastasizing. The chant repeated several times, and she began to pick out the words being shouted over and over again. “Heil Hitler. Heil Hitler. Heil Hitler.” “

THE DIVINERS SERIES:

1. The Diviners (2012)

2. Lair Of Dreams (2015)

3. Before The Devil Breaks You (2017)

4. The King Of Crows (2020)

#libba bray #sam and evie #evie and sam #sam lloyd #evie o'neill #the diviners series #the diviners #the lair of dreams #lair of dreams #before the devil breaks you #king of crows #the king of crows #ya books couple #ya books

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animeniacss · 4 years

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A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 24 - Art is Subjective...

Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?

Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU

Length: approx. 4.8k words

Chapter 24 - Art is Subjective

Taehyung watched from his folding chair as Jungkook eagerly set up his paintings around his spot in the show. Taehyung insisted on helping, but Jungkook told him he was not allowed to do anything but sit in the chair and offer support to the high schooler. Despite all of Taehyung’s insisting, Jungkook was not having it and proceeded to set up all of his work on his own. When he was done, he was quick to pull out his phone and step in front of his stall. Taehyung looked over at the eager boy, curious as to what he was doing.

Jungkook’s wide grin made Taehyung smile. “Smile, Hyung! This is going on my Instagram and I’m tagging you, so look cute!” Taehyung had to crane his neck slightly, but offered the camera a slight glimpse of his boxy smile, a peace sign lifting into the air. Jungkook snapped several pictures and stuck the phone in his pocket. “I’m so excited for everyone to start coming! Do you think I’ll sell something?”

“I’m sure you will,” Taehyung said. “But this can be a hard thing to do, so don’t get upset if you don’t have much success, it’s only your first art show.” Jungkook plopped beside his mentor, who offered him a supportive pat on the shoulder. The younger nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

“I know. I’m not a seasoned pro, like you.” He nodded, and Taehyung had to let a laugh out.

“Don’t suck up, I’m not buying shit.” He teased, and the both of them grinned. After a moment of silence, Taehyung nodded. “But you’re not wrong.” Jungkook giggled a bit, and with that, the sound of people approaching the area around their stall had Jungkook right back on his feet.

For a good hour, Jungkook was standing outside of his stall like a puppy who was eagerly waiting at the door for its owner to come home and greet him. Taehyung watched for a while, before standing up and approaching the younger boy, who was just waving goodbye to someone who had stopped to look.

“Don’t stand right here the whole time,” Taehyung advised, and Jungkook looked over. Taehyung could see his eyes widen slightly, as if he wanted to hear Taehyung’s advice, but was scared of what it would end up being. “You look a little desperate. If you at least sit down, the right people will see the work and come over. That’s the best time to get up and walk over to say hi.” Jungkook nodded. “One time I stood up for a whole 6 hours in front of my stand. I think I tried to make contact with every person who passed me by. At the end of the show, I had sold nothing, and only left with a headache from all of the intense staring I did.”

Taehyung’s confession did make Jungkook nod in understanding. “Right….” He said softly.

“It’s good to be eager, but don’t be too in your face. Just sit back and relax for a few minutes.” Jungkook nodded, plopping back down on his seat and crossing his arms. He watched people pass by, looking in the direction of his stall, their eyes scanning all he had to offer before deciding if they wanted to stop and stare or move on for now. Jungkook felt his heart sink with every person that passed by. Taehyung immediately noticed this, and nostalgia fell over him; the nostalgia that brought him back to his early days of selling art. 18 years old, sitting on the grass with Jimin and a tarp full of his earliest works. Most of those works now have either been sold, donated, or given away as gifts, but he remembers the feeling of disappointment that fell across him each moment that passed with nobody stopping to stare for longer than a few seconds. “Art is subjective, Jungkook…” He said simply. “Not everyone is going to like what you have, and that’s fine. We talked about that.”

“I know…” he said, “But it sucks more when you experience it in real life.”

“Heh…” Taehyung let an amused grin fall across his face. “Trust me, I know.” He was quick to stand up. “How about I go do some front-line work?” he asked. Jungkook glanced up at Taehyung, curious as to what he meant by ‘front-line work’. “I’ll walk around, and if I see anyone selling stuff similar to yours, I’ll help you make connections with them. And if anyone is staring at what other people are selling, I’ll point them in this direction.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes sparkled; it was as if Taehyung had just handed him the world on a silver platter. “You’d do that?”

“Sure! Jimin did it for me, and I ended up making a few art buddies from it. So, it doesn’t even hurt. You can even take a walk around later and do it yourself if you want.” Jungkook nodded. “But for now, man the front lines. I’ll be back.”

“What about your head?” Jungkook asked, the realization finally hit him. Taehyung scoffed.

“I’m fine, my sunglasses are on. I’ll be back soon.” He waved Jungkook off, and sticking his hands in his pockets, he headed off deeper into the art show. Jungkook leaned back in his chair, grabbing his water and taking an extra-long sip of it.

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

“Where do you think Jungkook’s set up?” you asked curiously, glancing over at Hoseok. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged.

“Not sure, but I’m sure if we keep looking, we’ll find him.” He said simply. You nodded, continuing to look around as you both passed several stalls. You watched as individuals stood around their crafts, pulling in those who walked back, hoping that they could pair someone up with the art of their dreams in only a few seconds. It felt as if you were at a car dealership instead of an art show, but at the same time, you enjoyed seeing how passionate everyone was! “Anything you see catching your eye?” Hoseok asked curiously. When you turned back to your friend, he smiled. “I’ll buy you something.”

“No way, it’s okay.” You assured. “I just like looking. I don’t have any room in my apartment for artwork, that’s why the dolphin is hung up in the school.” Hoseok chuckled. “If I find something small, maybe I’ll get it, I don’t know. It really has to catch my eye.”

Hoseok laughed once again, and the both of you headed deeper into the park, arms linked together in order not to get separated.

While the both of you were walking and admiring, Taehyung was doing the same thing. He had stopped at a few different stalls to look at some work, chatting up some of the local artists who seemed to be around Jungkook’s age or a bit older. At this moment, he was not the artist. He was Jimin, the charismatic, handsome businessman who was sure to coax anyone into a deal without even realizing it. Taehyung had been channeling his energy the entire walk from Jungkook’s stall. And so far, it seemed to be working.

“My friend Jungkook is a few stalls down,” Taehyung said to a young girl no older than 20. She had an entire stall of hand-crafted figurines of famous cartoon characters. As several young children begged their parents for figurines of Pororo or Mickey Mouse, the girl was watching Taehyung scroll through Jungkook’s Instagram. “He’s talented, but still new to the art world. I’m trying to get him some art friends.” The girl chuckled a bit, tugging her hair into a ponytail. With his glasses acting as a cover, Taehyung’s eyes fell in her direction from the phone, wanting to gauge her reaction to see if she was interested. However, every few seconds, he saw her eyes flicker from the phone, gazing up in Taehyung’s direction. When she thought he was staring back, she quickly looked back down at the phone again.

“He’s talented…” she repeated softly, nodding her head. Taehyung set his phone back into his pocket and turned to the girl. She glanced up at him, and that was when Taehyung slipped off the glasses, piercing her with his dark and intense eyes. He could have sworn he heard her gasp, but he ignored it and offered a warm smile.

“We’ll be there the whole time, so you should come to say hi and see all of his work in person.” The young woman quickly nodded again, and Taehyung saw her cheeks turn a soft pink.

“I’ll come to stop by in a bit when I take a break.” She murmured. Taehyung nodded and waved goodbye. The girls waved as well, and Taehyung passed by her stall, glancing over all of her creations before continuing down the path. His hands slipped into his pockets, and he was quick to slip his glasses back on, the sun beginning to hurt his head just slightly. He continued through the stalls, trying to find artwork and artists that he thought would be a good connection for Jungkook to have. He wanted to try and find people with various art styles, allowing the group to share experiences and teach each other new ways of making art. In Taehyung’s mind, that was one of the most important things about making connections with others.

As Taehyung was deep in thought, manager mode on as he eagerly searched the area, he was stopped almost immediately, when he heard a high-pitched voice hit him right in the back of the head.

“I think that’s Jungkook down there. Let’s go say hi!” Taehyung was quick to spin his entire body around, eyes darting directly to whoever it was who made that noise. It was easy to find, he knew exactly who it was: Hoseok.

Dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized blue button-up, Hoseok was grinning as he pointed in the opposite direction. Taehyung’s eyes turned slightly to see who exactly who he was with, and when he saw you, his heart swelled into his chest. You were holding a beautifully crafted mug in your hand, practically cradling it that was how tiny it was. He watched you set the mug down quickly, thanking the artist for allowing you the chance to hold and look at it. Waving him off, you followed Hoseok down the path and towards Jungkook’s stall. Taehyung stood there a moment, wondering if he should follow you. He had been waiting for the chance to see you and watching you hurry farther and farther away from him only made him want to try to catch up.

No, no. I’m helping Jungkook. I’ll catch her later, I’m sure. He thought to himself, shaking his head. As he watched you both disappear behind the other groups of people walking between exhibits, he turned back on his heel and continued down the path.

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

Jungkook was standing outside of the stall, holding up a painting of his as he spoke to a kind older woman who was asking about it.

“You really are a talented young man, aren’t you?” she beamed. Jungkook laughed nervously.

“Oh, thank you, I don’t know if I’m really all that good just yet. I have a lot more practicing to do.” Jungkook admitted sheepishly. “My mentor has taught me a lot though, he’s the real talent.”

“Well, if someone is teaching talent such as this, then he must be.” The woman grinned. Jungkook laughed shyly. “Well, I want to go find my husband and bring him over to see the collection you have here. He’s quite a lover of the arts, you know. Would it be ok if I come back in a little while?”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkled. “Of course!” he said eagerly. “I’ll be here all day.” The woman nodded.

“And what did you say your name was again, dear?” she asked.

“Jeon Jungkook.” He smiled happily. The woman nodded, waving before walking down the path. Jungkook watched her go for a moment, and that was when he saw Hoseok and you appearing, heading towards his stall. That only made the smile on his face growing wider. “Hey.” He said happily.

“Hi!” You said happily, hurrying over to Jungkook. “How’s it all coming?”

“I’ve got a few people to stop and look, but no sales yet.” Jungkook pouted. “But a nice older lady came and said she was going to bring her husband to look, she liked my stuff.”

“That’s great!” Hoseok cheered. You were quick to scan the stall, and saw two open chairs sitting under the shade.

“Taehyung ended upcoming?” you asked curiously.

“Oh yeah. He said he was going around to find some other artists I could meet and talk to since I don’t know many other people other than him. He should be back soon, hopefully. I don’t want him being out too long, he said his head was still hurting a bit.” Hearing Jungkook’s comment made you feel a bit uneasy, remembering how he looked when you had gone to visit him the other day, despite how hard he had tried to act anything but. As that memory flooded your mind, you couldn’t help but also remember the kiss –

“Well, if we don’t cross paths that’s okay!” You said quickly, offering up a nervous giggle. Hoseok looked over at you, raising an eyebrow.

“We can always come back later, you know.” Hoseok was quick to point it out, and you nodded your head. Hoseok had no idea about what happened the other day, in fact, nobody outside you and Taehyung knew. Hopefully.

“Yeah, that’s true…” you said simply. “We can…” Hoseok, who was actively confused as to what had suddenly gotten you so jumpy, simply rubbed your arm gently. “Anyway, let’s take a look at what we have here, hm?” you walked towards the stall, and began to quickly admire all of the work. “Wow…” you said in disbelief. “You made all of these in such a short amount of time.” Jungkook nodded.

“I do a lot of it on the weekends, and I doodle a lot during class.” He admitted. Hoseok shook his head.

“You shouldn’t do that, Jungkook. Your grades are important.” Jungkook chuckled a bit.

“I know, I know. But I’m a good student.” He assured quickly. “Oh! You have to come back later, anyway. My uh…” The realization of what Jungkook was going to say made his cheeks turn red. “My girlfriend is coming by when she gets out of work.” Hoseok and you smiled as if you were his parents meeting this girl for the first time. Jungkook must have felt that same thing because he could only laugh nervously. “Not until later though, okay?”

“Okay, okay…” the both of you said simply, grins on your faces. You quickly turned around and continued to look at his artwork, while Hoseok motioned to a nearby stand and led Jungkook that way.

Taehyung returned to the stall about 20 minutes later. He had managed to get a few people to look up Jungkook on Instagram and either follow or reach out that way, with another few offering to come by the stall later and say hello in person. He felt good knowing that he was able to help the teenager, and he was excited to see the look on his face when he came back and told him.

Taehyung had also snagged two orders of fries for the boys to enjoy from the snack stand they had set up right outside the entrance to the park, a nice treat for Jungkook to congratulate him on his hard work so far. As he popped a fry into his mouth, he quickened his pace. He wanted to sit and relax for a bit, he didn’t realize he had been up and walking in the heat for almost 40 minutes, and he was starting to feel it in the back of his head. As he walked closer to Jungkook’s stall, he was met with a very…interesting sight.

When he approached the stall, he didn’t see Jungkook standing in front and chatting up those who passed by. No, instead, he saw you. You were kneeling in front of the canvases, admiring Jungkook’s hard work with a smile on your face. As Taehyung watched you, it made him think back to the look on your face when you first saw his work in person. It had been stuck in his mind ever since, and he didn’t think it would ever leave.

He finally approached the stall, with you still unaware of his presence. “Hey.” He finally said. You were quick to glance up, and stood up almost immediately afterward. “I thought I saw you before, but I wasn’t sure.” He lied. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good. How’s your head?” Taehyung shrugged.

“Touch and go. I think I’ll make it to Christmas.” He grinned a bit, and you offered a smile. Taehyung glanced down at his hands, still holding the fries tightly. “If I knew you were here already, I would have offered to-.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” You assured quickly. “We already ate…” Taehyung nodded, smiling gently at you. “Hoseok and Jungkook went down a bit to look at other groups, they should be back soon.” You quickly motioned to the chairs in the shade. “You should sit down and rest. Jungkook said you’ve been up and in the heat and a long time, you’ll make your head hurt more…” Taehyung decided to follow your advice, taking his seat quickly and setting Jungkook’s fries in his chair. You watched him for a moment. “Are you guys staying long?”

“Maybe.” You chuckled. “Jungkook said someone took an interest in something and is coming back in a little while with her husband. He got pretty excited, so we might hang around a bit longer and see what comes out of that.” Taehyung felt a proud smile form on his face.

“That’s good.” He said happily. Silence fell over the both of you as Taehyung began to eat, something that you realized happened very often between the two of you. You watched him for a moment, watched as he nibbled on his fries and rested comfortably in his chair. You had to admit, you were wondering what he was thinking. However, the last thing you wanted to do was bring your drama up today and risk anything being thrown out of proportion. Taehyung, though you couldn’t tell with his glasses on, looked over in your direction. When he spoke, it surprised you.

“Want one?” he asked, holding the bag of fries in your direction. You blinked, shaking your head.

“No, no. I’m okay…” you assured again. “I already-.”

“Ate. I know. You just looked like you wanted one.” His playful and boxy grin crept onto his mouth. “Feel free to take one if you change your mind okay?” You were hesitant but nodded.

“Okay…”

“Or you can eat Jungkook’s if he doesn’t come back in time.” As you watched Taehyung chuckle a bit and return to eating, it made your mind spin. You were surprised he was as calm as he was right now, especially compared to you. You weren’t sure what had him this way. Your first thought was the concussion was more serious than anyone had thought, but maybe that was a bit too extreme. Letting out a soft breath, you simply decided to turn in the direction Hoseok and Jungkook left in. Lucky for you, they were coming right back to the table. Hoseok hurried up to you.

“There’s a whole group of little knick-knacks at that table over there. Want to go look?”

Hoseok asked when he approached you. Jungkook walked over to Taehyung, sitting next to him and grabbing the fries. He quickly began eating them, and the duo fell immediately into the conversation, Taehyung showing him all of the people who he managed to speak too, and Jungkook sharing what had been going on while he was away. You turned to look at them, watching as Taehyung ruffled Jungkook’s hair, congratulating the younger male on a job well done so far. It made you smile, seeing him so happy.

“So…” Taehyung hummed. “When is this woman coming back with her husband?” Jungkook shrugged.

“Not sure. But I hope she comes back soon. She was really nice. She said her husband is really into art, so maybe they’ll buy something.” The giddiness in Jungkook’s voice was infectious, and Taehyung couldn’t help but be excited himself. “That would be amazing!”

“I’m sure it’ll happen.” Taehyung assured. He got up quickly, walking towards the nearby garbage and tossing his trash in. He took a moment to scan the area. He wanted to see if any good people were passing by, anyone he could chat up and introduce Jungkook’s work too. A few more people stopped and glanced over, curious about what there was to see. Taehyung could hear Jungkook quickly getting up from his seat, eager to talk to more people. It was then he noticed a familiar person walking in the direction of the stall. This person, middle-aged, walked arm in arm with a woman who seemed to be chatting his ear off. The man was looking around as they walked, and Taehyung felt his heart sink the minute he saw that woman point in the direction of Jungkook’s stall. Oh Min-Jae. “Oh God…” Dread covered Taehyung’s body like a blanket, and at that moment, he wanted to die.

“What’s wrong, Hyung?” Jungkook asked, walking over to Taehyung. He looked in the same direction, and a grin broke out on his face. “Oh, that’s the woman who said she liked my art!”

“Of course, it is…” Taehyung groaned, covering his face. He walked back towards the stall and rested his hands on it, trying to collect himself. “Of. Fucking. Course! Of course, her husband is Oh Min-Jae why am I not surprised?!” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, turning towards the couple once again, who was getting closer with each step. It took Jungkook a minute to remember all of the times Taehyung had mercilessly gotten frustrated and talked about Oh Min-Jae, and Jungkook bit his lip. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry, you talk to them. I won’t start anything…” Taehyung said quickly. “Just make a sale. I’ll be over here wondering how someone you claim to be so sweet ended up marrying Satan himself…” Jungkook looked over to see the couple approach, and quickly smiled.

“Hello again.” He said happily.

“Hello again, Jungkook.” Mrs. Oh chimed happily. “This is my husband, Mr. Oh Min-Jae.” Jungkook quickly nodded his head, smiling sweetly as he introduced himself once again.

“My wife hasn’t stopped talking about you. It’s made me very excited to see what you have to show today.” Jungkook nodded, watching as the couple went closer to his works of art. From the corner of his eye, he could see Taehyung still standing on the side of the stall, not wanting to move in fear he would catch even a glimpse of this guy. That was the last thing he wanted. “Hm…” the man said. “Very interesting. You have quite a unique style here.” Jungkook nodded.

“Oh uhm…thank you.” Jungkook said softly. “My mentor has really taught me a lot. He’s an amazing artist.” Jungkook glanced at Taehyung once again and saw the guy was chewing on his lower lip, using up all of his strength not to move from that spot. It made Jungkook feel bad, because he wanted Taehyung to get the recognition he deserved. “Maybe you’ve heard of him, Kim Taehyung?”

At that moment, Taehyung’s eyes went wide, and he felt as if he was going to die. He quickly turned to look at Jungkook, hoping he would catch his gaze. However, he did not. Min-Jae pursed his lips together, and nodded.

“Yes, I know who that is. Amazing how someone who likes to paint dolphins and mentored such talent out of you. Unless we are thinking of two different people, which would not surprise me in the slightest.”

Bastard…Taehyung thought to himself, eyes narrowing.

“No! Kim Taehyung, I know you know who he is.” Jungkook smiled. “He paints amazing pictures of-.”

“-Of dolphins, like I said.” Min-Jae repeated. “I’m merely saying it takes true talent on your part to create such beautiful pieces under the guide of someone so unprofessional in his craft.”

“But that’s not-.”

Before Jungkook could finished, Taehyung turned the corner and crossed his arms. “For someone who hates me, you sure do love having my name in your mouth.” Taehyung scoffed. Min-Jae looked over, and a devilish smile graced his lips.

“Taehyung, happy to see you.” He said simply. “How is your life of mediocrity suiting you?” Taehyung glared, but tried his best to keep his cool and brush off what the older man had said.

“Just fine, thank you.” He said simply. Min-Jae turned back to his wife, who was admiring some of the pieces Jungkook had laid out. “We’re not going to have the same issue we had when you saw my artwork, right? Harassing me and not buying anything.” Min-Jae laughed.

“Unlike then, I actually enjoy the artwork I see right now.” Min-Jae said simply. Taehyung frowned as the man turned to his wife. “Did you find the one you liked, dear?” The woman, smile beaming, lifted up a painting of a beautiful skyline. The feeling emanated a warmth, as if one was indeed at the beach and enjoying the sunshine the picture gave off. “That’s absolutely beautiful.” He grinned. “You’re incredibly talented, Jungkook. You have the potential to truly become something amazing in the artist world.”

As Taehyung watched the scene unfold, he heard a voice behind him that caused him to turn his head. “Taehyung!” When he turned, he saw you approach. You were beaming, holding something in your hands. “Look what I-.” before you could show him, you caught sight of the other people before you. You quickly looked at Hoseok, who gently pulled you back behind him, wanting to shield you in case anything happened.

Taehyung turned back to Min-Jae, and watched as Min-Jae pulled out his wallet. “We’ll take it.” Jungkook’s eyes widened as Min-Jae handed Jungkook a handful of won. He skimmed it over and immediately could tell there was more in his hands than he planned to charge for the painting.

“What? Sir, I can’t-.”

“Take the entirety of it. Consider it my intuition that you’ll be able to double or triple this selling your art in the future.” Min-Jae looked at Taehyung one more time. “It’s truly good work. You might want to give your mentor a few pointers.”

“Okay, now come on!” Taehyung frowned. Almost immediately, he felt someone grip his arm. When he turned around, he saw Hoseok holding onto the sleeve of his arm. He sighed softly. He saw you watching silently, unsure of what exactly was going on, but Taehyung could tell that you were a bit put off. Jungkook watched as Mrs. Oh turned to Jungkook, smiling sweetly.

“Thank you, sweetheart. It’s going right above my study. It is going to be wonderful.” Jungkook nodded, smiling sweetly. Mrs. Oh quickly took her husband by the arm. “Now you. Knock it off and let’s get going.” With that, the both of them headed away from the stall. Taehyung watched as the both of them left, and he turned to Jungkook, who was holding the money given to him tightly in his hands. His eyes were sparkling as he looked at it. Taehyung sighed, walking over to Jungkook and patting him on the shoulder.

“Good job, Jungkook. You sold your first painting.” When Jungkook looked up at his Hyung, Taehyung only offered him a smile. “Put that money somewhere safe.” He walked over to you, watching as you looked down at the thing in your hands. Taehyung tilted his head as he approached you. “What did you buy?” he asked curiously. You glanced up at him, showing him the little canvas, you had in your hands. As he walked over, he kept thinking about what he had told Jungkook earlier that day.

Art is subjective…. Not everyone is going to like everything.

Taehyung tilted his head as he approached you. “What did you buy?” he asked curiously. You glanced up at him, showing him the little canvas, you had in your hands. You were holding a bright yellow figurine, shaped like a star with a bright smile on it. Taehyung looked down at you.

“It’s a cute little figurine.” You smiled. “You know, a star…like Bright Star Preschool.” Taehyung blinked. At that moment, despite the annoyance and anger, he was feeling after having to get through that conversation with Min-Jae, he ended up breaking into the widest grin at the sight of you. “I think it would look really cute on my desk, don’t you? It was cheap too.” Taehyung chuckled a bit.

“Definitely.” He said softly. You smiled a bit, nodding in happiness. “Hey, uhm…do you want to take a walk with me?” he asked curiously. “I want to clear my head…”

“Uhm, okay, sure!” You said sweetly. Taehyung nodded, quickly leading you down the path and away from the stall, leaving Hoseok and Jungkook there with nothing to say.

Art was subjective. Taehyung thought to himself again. But I have a feeling that prick just did that on purpose.

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heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

Black Market Wonderland (Chapter Nine): We’re Covered In Lies and That’s Okay

Notes: I’ve given up on maintaining proper consistent schedules for my fics, but I want to attempt to update at least once every other month for each of my series that are going on rn. I always wanna say thanks for some of the replies/comments on my last chapter that were really supportive and awesome about my disaster of a situation with grad school. I struggle to like respond and be a functional human being, but i read everything and love you all.I will be trying to like alternate posting chapters to each series, monthly. So like, April is Tsun, May will be Dahlia, but uhhhhhhhh every time i try to be consistent, it blows up in my face so that's cool.

Word Count: 7,152

Warnings: This one is pretty tame, cursing, some pettiness. I introduce a new OC cause i can’t fucking contain myself.

Missed the last chapter? Link Here!

“Hmmm, I don’t know…”

“Please,” Anais shakes her clenched fists in a begging motion, “please, please, please!”

The day has passed by easily enough, no snags or major confrontations from the idiots in the penthouse. A nice relaxed day of normal work with Anais clinging to her side, as they teach each other languages. It won’t be long before Tsuneko has to return her to her parent’s room for the evening, they’re walking that direction on the VIP floor. All it took was mentioning maybe giving the young girl a present for her to start begging excitedly. Of course, Tsuneko already has the small pompompurin coin purse in her pocket, something she won in a crane game, but doesn’t need.

“Hm, let’s see, maybe we can make it a reward. Do you remember how to sign, ‘hello, my name is Anais’?”

“Yeah, see,” Anais replies with a big grin and signs the greeting, perfectly.

“Here, you’ve more than earned it,” Tsuneko tells her, before handing over the little plush coin purse. Her blue eyes sparkle the second she sees it and she hugs it to her cheek.

“I love it!”

One of Anais’s hands wraps around Tsuneko’s, the other clutches around her gift, as they walk towards the room. The young girl is practically skipping as they near their destination.

“Tsuneko,” a familiar masculine voice calls out, Mr. Bucci.

“Hello, Mr. Bucci,” Tsuneko greets him, Anais hides behind her leg, shy around the strange older man, “Anais, this is Mr. Bucci, he’s a friend of my boss from Italy, why don’t you say hello?”

“Ciao,” Anais murmurs, still a little awkward, but Mr. Bucci gives her a kind smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, say, Tsuneko. I’m sorry to be a bother, but would you mind showing me around the hotel? I’d get lost in a paper bag I’m afraid.”

“Ah, I’m showing Anais back to her parent’s room at the moment, but if you could wait for just a moment, I can be with you shortly?” Tsuneko offers, even if the room isn’t far away, she wouldn’t feel comfortable just abandoning Anais on the VIP floor alone.

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.”

Tsuneko excuses herself and Anais, leading the girl down the hall down to her parent’s room. She has a quick chat with Esme, about when the family is visiting Puroland, as well as the fact that Tsuneko may have days in the coming week where Ichinomiya will ask her to work outside of the hotel. It’s officially the second week of the bet and she’s expecting him to make a full force effort before the end of it, since he doesn’t seem keen on just giving up. She says her goodbyes to the family for the night and returns to Mr. Bucci in the hallway.

“Sorry for the wait, sir,” Tsuneko apologizes as they start to walk towards the elevator.

“It’s no problem at all,” he pauses for a moment, “I’m starting to understand more and more why Eisuke seems so enamored with you. Sweet, cute girl, great cook and good with children.”

“Mr. Bucci,” her stomach churns at the thought of Ichinomiya’s saccharine fake smile, “you’re far too kind, I’m sure Mr. Ichinomiya isn’t quite as fond of me as you think.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Uh,” she stutters as they reach the elevator, wanting to escape this conversation, “so, do you think you know exactly what you’re looking to do? I’m sure you’re well acquainted with the casino, but there are also museums, theaters, pools, plenty of restaurants with food from all over. There’s actually an Italian restaurant, people say the food is really authentic, but I wouldn’t really know, personally.”

“Actually,” he cuts off her rambling, “I was hoping we could have a chat over dinner. I’m sure Eisuke won’t mind.”

She’s sure he wouldn’t, so long as Tsuneko doesn’t out his bullshit. Her regular rooms are all cleaned for the day, the only thing left on the schedule is cleaning the penthouse. So, it’s not impacting anyone else in the hotel and she tells Ichinomiya she was buttering up Mr. Bucci, he won’t particularly care.

“Yeah, that should be fine.”

It’s an awkward elevator ride to the floor with the restaurants, Tsuneko’s arms are folded behind her back to feign some sort of confidence, despite how badly she wants to run. She can’t say for certain what Mr. Bucci wants with her, perhaps just mining her for information about Ichinomiya, but why would he need her for that. There’s a devilish part of her brain that reminds her this would be a chance to out him, to tell Mr. Bucci all about the little game Ichinomiya is playing.

But she can’t bring herself to do something like that. Ichinomiya is an asshole and all-around garbage excuse for a human being, but his success affects more than just him. If the success of the Tres Spades continues to grow and get more money, the employees continue to prosper and make more money. The Tres Spades isn’t some shitty corporation that pays them minimum wage and no benefits. Tsuneko’s situation is an extreme case, she knows that, despite his piss poor personality, Ichinomiya and the Tres Spades take care of their employees.

Not to mention, another hotel, means more job opportunities for people who may need them. People who were like her when she applied, desperate and needing a source of income, could have an opportunity to do more than survive.

Plus, if the hotel expands across the globe, it can help employees in other ways. She thinks of Chisato and Itsuki, the two are basically engaged, but can’t movee beyond that point if they want to because gay marriage isn’t legal in Japan. Chisato has been with the hotel for years and can’t just move to elsewhere without having a job at least as good lined up. If there were more locations, in places where it’s legal, she could have both. So, if the Tres Spades expands…

As much as she hates to sound like a capitalist, helping Ichinomiya really does have ripple effects that help more people. She has to find a balance of not fucking herself over, but not hurting anyone else in the grand scheme of things.

Tsuneko would message Ichinomiya, to at least let him know why she’ll be late cleaning the penthouse and so he doesn’t suspect she’s going out of her way to ruin things. But the only way she has of contacting him is the pager which is on a speaker and she’s not giving that man her phone number.

They arrive at the Italian restaurant the Tres Spades has and Tsuneko immediately feels out of place. It’s mostly guests here for a nice dinner, dressed to the nines, while she’s in her maid uniform. The mixture of cleaner products and sweat is still heavy on her skin.

They’re shown to a table and Tsuneko is trying not to anxiously bounce or move around in her seat. Mr. Bucci orders wine and she gets water, he seems to be beating around the bush, dragging her discomfort out. Tsuneko forgets what she ordered a moment after she orders it. Mr. Bucci is the dictionary definition of calm, as he takes a sip of his wine, Tsuneko is sick of this.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

He puts his glass down on the table and gives a small chuckle. Mr. Bucci has never struck her a mean or cruel man, but he’s a mob boss. There are so many dangerous places this conversation could go.

“Cutting right to the chase, are you?”

“My heart can’t handle doing anything else.”

“There’s no need to look so scared, relax, eat.”

She pops an appetizer into her mouth but can’t quite appreciate the taste through her nerves. The attempt seems to appease him to some degree, as he clears his throat to speak again.

“Carolina has become rather infatuated with Eisuke, despite him having feelings for you.”

“I don’t think he-”

“Please, humor me,” he puts his hand up to make her shush, “I know Carolina has been taking things out on you, which isn’t right, but she’s always felt her emotions very intensely. If your and Eisuke’s relationship were to go further, it would crush her, and she’d only get nastier with you.”

Is this entire dinner about warning her away from Ichinomiya for Carolina’s sake? Because that’s not an issue. Tsuneko wouldn’t waste her time fighting over a man she liked, let alone one she’s actively trying to avoid.

“I know it’s asking a lot, but it would be nice if you and Carolina could become friends.”

“Huh?”

“I was hoping from the way he acted last time they met, perhaps he had feelings for her as well, but it can’t be helped. If Carolina could see you as more of a friend, less of a rival, I think it would be good for both of you.”

“Uh,” that’s not what she expected, “if this is all about getting me to make nice with your daughter, I’m not sure there’s much I can do. I’m not exactly the one making it, uh, contentious. And even if I did, I’m not sure if it would make her feel any better about Mr. Ichinomiya.”

“I know my Carolina can be difficult, but I do think it would help for her to have a friend here.”

“I’m not confident that I’m the best choice for that.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you tried, maybe a girl’s day for the two of you could be arranged?”

Tsuneko chews her lip and pokes at her meal, unsure of what to say or do. Her leg bounces beneath the table. Mr. Bucci strikes her as sincere, he genuinely wants the best for his daughter. And Tsuneko can see his point, Carolina doesn't strike her as the type who probably has a lot of female friends. The kind of mentality where Women are competition and men are some sort of prize. Which is exhausting. Both for those around her and surely for her as well.

"If you can get her to agree, I'll be more than happy to spend a day with her."

"Wonderful. I'll let you know when a date is arranged." Mr. Bucci smiles at her and Tsuneko prays Carolina refuses. The meal concludes with Tsuneko trying to hurriedly eat her entree, as to not waste the previously untouched food, and Mr. Bucci insisting on paying.

Her mind wanders as she makes her way to the penthouse, she thinks of what he said, about believing Ichinomiya might have had feelings for Carolina. Everything he does, especially for business, is intentional. Even the smallest gesture calculated. He doesn’t give soft smiles or too long touches by accident.

And while Carolina might be the type to misinterpret signals, her father doesn’t seem as apt to do so. Which, makes her wonder, did he lead Carolina on for the deal? Not that she thinks much of him to begin with, but that’s another layer of gross.

She arrives at the penthouse, seeing a mish mash of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Baba and Kisaki are the only two of the auction managers there, but there’s four women gathered around them. Three she doesn’t know and one, she’s sadly familiar with, the girl who insulted her weight at the event Ichinomiya dragged her to. The women are undoubtedly beautiful, dressed in short seductive dresses. They’re guests, or at least she has to assume so, which sadly means Tsuneko needs to be well behaved. It’s one thing to mouth off to the assholes who bought her, but actual guests of the hotel she has to behave around.

“Hey, princess,” Baba greets her, a woman with long red hair on his left and another with raven black hair on his right. The girl from the event is next to the red head, while another blonde is practically sitting in Kisaki’s lap.

The three unfamiliar women give Tsuneko a quick once over but seem to ultimately decide they don’t care about her presence. While the one she’s met before, maintains a sharp cruel gaze. Unlike the other three, she doesn’t even seem to be fawning over the men, almost bored with this.

“I’m here to clean,” Tsuneko announces with a customer service smile, “would anyone like anything to eat or drink before I start?”

Kisaki and Baba shoots her confused looks, no doubt taken aback by her kind attitude. However, she can’t risk being inappropriate around actual guests.

“Make yourself useful and get us some wine,” the familiar woman pipes in, showing off her empty glass like Tsuneko is too stupid to understand otherwise.

“Of course.”

She gathers the empty glasses and makes her way to the penthouse kitchen area. There’s a bottle of fancy red wine on the counter, from whenever they first served it, so she tops off each glass and brings it out to them.

“So, you let maids up here?” The redhead asks, twirling a crimson lock around her finger.

“Koro’s special,” Kisaki taunts, despite his sugary sweet smile, and she bites her tongue, only sending him a quick pointed glare.

“I’m the penthouse maid, Tomori Tsuneko.”

“I think the dog name suits you more,” the event girl tells her, her eyes sharp. She’s a pretty girl, a shaggy pale blonde bob hair and burnished orange eyes.

“You’re so mean, Kaede,” the blonde on the arm of Kisaki’s chair gushes out, like it’s cute.

“If that’s all, I’ll begin cleaning now.” She at least has a name to attach to the mean girl, though she’s not sure how much that will actually help her.

Tsuneko busies herself with cleaning the lounge, letting the residents become background noise. She manages to catch that Baba is reading the girl’s fortunes with cards. All of them but Kaede, oohing and aweing over it.

“Hey, pretty lady, come over here,” Baba calls over suddenly as Tsuneko is dusting, every fiber of her being wants to tell him to shush and let her clean. But there are guests, actual guests here.

“Is there something you need, sir?” She says instead, hoping the sir will somehow get her point across. Yet, Baba is smiling like a damn idiot.

“Do you wanna have your fortune read?”

There’s an annoyed twitch behind her eye, she is working. She can see Kisaki gremlin smirking out of her peripheral vision. They’re trying to push her buttons.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m working, sir.”

“Oh, there’s no need to be shy, you know you can always call me Micchy!~”

He winks at her, three girls giggle, but Kaede still shows no signs of being entertained. Instead, her nose wrinkles. A clatter of glass as she smacks her finger into the stem of her wine glass, knocking it from the table.

“Ah!” Tsuneko flusters and rushes, she catches the glass before it shatters, but red wine drenches the front of her uniform. It soaks and chills through the fabric, making it stick to her.

“Couldn’t let you slack off for too long,” Kaede tells her, voice hushed and a mean little smirk pulling at her lips.

The door to the penthouse opens within the next moment, Ichinomiya and Oh entering the lounge. Like moths to a flame, suddenly the four women all flock over to them, abandoning Baba and Kisaki.

“Eisuke, it’s great to see you again!~” Kaede gushes and he narrows his eyes.

“We were waiting for you to get here!”

“I didn’t think we’d actually get a chance to meet the king!”

“You’re even more attractive in person, oh my god!”

“Are you okay?” Baba asks her, suddenly close and in her personal space.

“Yeah, better on me than on the linoleum,” she awkwardly tugs at the wet chest of her uniform, cold drops of wine rolling down her cleavage, that Baba’s eyes seem to follow, “nothing got on your cards?”

“Of all the things for you to be worried about,” Baba looks her in the eyes again and sighs, like he’s dealing with a child.

“I mean, I could also worry about how you two just got ditched for Ichinomiya,” she teases, voice low, as Baba carefully takes the glass from her hand. He’s being, nice.

“We’re used to it by now, some girls will do anything to get close to boss.”

“What’s going on here?” Ichinomiya questions, glaring at the women for a moment, before his eyes land on Tsuneko and her wine-soaked uniform.

“We just thought, it’d be okay for us to come up here and spend some time with you,” Kaede tells him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I take it, we know who’s to blame for letting you up here,” Oh glares at Baba who just grins.

“What’s wrong for having some beautiful women here?”

“Women who find it necessary to throw wine at my staff.” Ichinomiya narrows his eyes at Kaede, he doesn’t even have to wonder who’s to blame.

“Accidents happen,” Kaede waves it off, “she’ll be fine, why don’t we have a drink, just the two of us?”

“Get out.”

“Huh, don’t be ridiculous-”

“I don’t have time for this, get out, now.”

Slowly and with their heads hanging down, the women leave the penthouse, like they’ve been scolded. Which, she supposes isn’t that far from the truth.

“Ugh, I can still smell their perfume,” He’s not wrong, the smell of expensive perfume still hangs in the air.

“Are you sure you should talk to guests like that?”

“They’re not staying here.”

“What?”

“Those women just hang around in the casino, like flies,” Oh explains.

“God damn it, I was polite for nothing!”

“It was so funny watching you try to behave yourself.” Kisaki snickers.

“Oh shut up, now, if you’ll excuse me,” she says and starts to head to the door, wine making her thighs stick together awkwardly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ichinomiya stops her.

“I’m gonna go change then come back to clean, the wine didn’t get on anything else, so don’t worry.”

“You’re going to let guests see you like that?” He narrows his eyes at her, and she looks down at the mess on her uniform, not that she needs to, she can feel it sticking to her.

“Well, it’s not going anywhere on its own.” She flails her arms out, glaring at him, what the hell does he expect?

“I’ll see if Kenzaki can bring you up a change of uniform.”

“Come on, you can get cleaned up in my bathroom and we’ll get your uniform taken care of,” Baba says, placing a hand on the small of her back as he leads her towards his suite, even though she knows where it is, his hand is welcomed warmth against the chill of the spilled wine.

She steps into his bathroom, familiar with the elaborate set up. The sun is just starting to set, shining orange golden light in through the giant window.

“There’s bathrobes for you to change into or you can borrow some clothes from me if you’d like.” He winks, because of course he does.

“I’ll take the bathrobe.”

He gives a melodramatic pout and she pushes him from the bathroom. The door shut behind him, she takes off her shoes and starts to unbutton her uniform. Her eyes dart between the tub and the shower, immaculate. The idea of relaxing back in a hot soapy bath looking at the sunset out the window, sounds so nice. However, reality is a cruel mistress, and she doesn’t have the luxury of taking her time and relaxing. She’s technically on the clock and she’s better off just taking a shorter shower.

There’s a bit of relief from the sticky wine, tacky on her skin, when she lets her uniform drop to the floor and peels off her stockings. The worst of the mess is off her, but it’s well soaked through the layers to her skin. She can even feel the residue on her nipples where it’s dripped down and soaked through her bra. Her underwear joins the pile of clothes and she starts up the shower, steam filling the room.

She leaves a towel over the stall door and steps under the hot water. There’s an array of the hotel provided items with soft clean neutral scents, but she notices a few of Baba’s products as well. They’re all rose and jasmine scented, floral almost romantic scents. Not that different from her own shampoo, but just slightly stronger. Of course, he drinks rose tea and uses rose soap, like the cheesy schmuck he is. Those thoughts don’t stop her from using it. Tsuneko’s muscles relax as she washes the grime from her skin and hair, not just the wine but the sweat of the day so far.

The door creaks as she’s massaging soap into her breasts, she jolts, a slick mess of suds and water in the shower stall makes her feet slip. She just manages to burrow her fingers into the towel before she yelps out, her ass hitting the floor. Pain shoots up her tailbone. The door swings open further.

“Tsuneko!” Baba’s voice jumps an octave as he rushes into the room, whirling around to see her. She scrambles to place the towel, so it covers her chest and groin, though she feels like he probably already got an eyeful in the amount of time it takes her.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Are you okay, I heard you yell?”

“Yeah, because you opened the fucking door!”

“Uh, oh,” realization seems to dawn on him, and he covers his eyes before turning his back to her, “I was going to get your clothes, so we can send them to be cleaned.”

“You couldn’t have waited?!”

“The quicker they’re washed the better, you don’t want the stains to set.”

“Just go!”

Baba flusters about for a moment before grabbing her pile of wine-soaked clothes and leaving the bathroom. She heaves out a deep sigh, once she hears the door shut behind him. Tsuneko gets back up on her feet, the towel is completely soaked now, so she tosses it aside. Fearful of another interruption, she finishes up as quickly as possible.

She shuts the shower off and does a quick dry off. They’re probably still sticky, but she goes to grab her underwear, to find they’re not there. Great, so not only has Baba seen her naked, but he knows what kind of underwear she wears. And, she’ll be wearing a bathrobe with nothing underneath, around them all. Lovely.

The bathrobe is clearly meant for an adult man and she doesn’t see any in smaller sizes. It’s soft fluffy white material, she pulls it on, she feels and looks a bit like a marshmallow, but that’s not a complaint. Plus, the excess fabric should make it easier to stay covered. It sags a little low on her shoulders, the sleeves hang over her hands, and the bottom drags across the floor as she leaves the bathroom.

Baba is just outside the bathroom door and she can’t help the pout that pulls at her face, asshole. He’s smirking in response and her fist is connecting with his side in the next moment. He barely flinches at the strike and she can feel the muscle beneath his shirt.

“Pull that kind of shit again and I’ll castrate you.”

“I only had the best of intentions, scouts honor.” He gives a cheesy little smile and scout salute, that she isn’t buying for a second.

“Hmmph.”

She lets out a huffy noise as she fixes her still damp bangs and moves towards her stuff that’s on the side table. Baba must have taken them from her pockets when he got her clothes. There are wine stains on some of her sticky note pads and a bit on her phone case, the phone itself doesn’t feel soaked, however. It’s already been scratched all up, she’s not sure how much more it can handle.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you with your hair down, somehow you just manage to get prettier and prettier.”

She rolls her eyes at his compliment, despite the heat in her cheeks. It’s sweet and she’s sure he’s right, the only one who’s seen her with her hair down fully was Kisaki when he was fixing it for the event. She twirls a still damp lock of her around her finger.

“You never lay off with the cheesy shit, do you?”

“I’m just an honest man.”

“You walked in on me showering and stole my underwear!”

“I was honestly trying to help.”

A heavy sigh escapes her as she puts her phone in the robe pocket and heads to the lounge, hopefully Kenzaki has brought a change of uniform for her. Baba follows after her, Kishi is on one of the couches smoking a cigarette. He managed to miss the chaos, lucky him.

“What the hell?”

“Don’t ask.” She waves him off, dismissing him and his smoke cloud as she takes a seat. Tsuneko is careful to fold her legs in the chair so she stays cocooned and covered in the robe.

“One of Boss’s fangirls got a little testy.”

“There are no spare uniforms in your size, so you’ll have to wait until laundry services washes yours,” Ichinomiya explains to her.

“So, what I’m hearing is I’m getting overtime pay?”

Ichinomiya sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t argue with her. At the very least a bit of extra money in her bank account, but now she’s stuck spending time with them. Last time she was actually sat down with them was when Ichinomiya gave her the confidentiality agreement, before she proposed the bet. She can remember just how tense and rigid she was, now she’s curled up in a robe.

She fiddles with the edge of the robes sleeve, suddenly aware of the strangely vulnerable position she’s put herself in with them. Hair damp from the shower and still down, not a smudge of makeup, in nothing but an oversized robe. Something about it all seems cozy, comfortable. She curls her knees in a bit closer at the thought, as if providing a bit more protection.

“Since you’ve got time you want to get your fortune read, now?” Baba offers, smiling.

“Aren’t you a little old to believe in that kind of shit?”

“You wound me and so soon after our special moment together in the shower.”

“Don’t say shit like that!” She reaches out and smacks him with the long sleeves of the robe, it hits his face and he just keeps grinning.

“Don’t tell me you’re into old men, now, Koro.”

“He walked in while I was showering!”

“You really have the worst luck, don’t ya?”

“You’re telling me. Speaking of shitty luck and women who hate me, Mr. Bucci wants me to spend time with Carolina.”

“Does he now?”

“And you actually agreed to that?”

“What was I supposed to do?” She shoots Oh an incredulous look.

“I’m not sure that’s the smartest idea, princess.”

“Mr. Bucci is gonna talk to her about it, best case scenario she refuses and worst case scenario I have to suffer through a day of her snide little insults.”

“Did you forget they’re mafia members?”

“And Carolina is jealous of you.”

“So,” she shrugs at Oh and Baba’s implications, “she’s not gonna do anything crazy.”

“You can’t let your guard down around people like that.”

“What’s that suppose to mean, slacker?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

Kishi and Oh are glaring daggers at each other, Oh’s hand starts heading towards where she’s sure his gun is. She tries not to snicker and starts scrolling through her phone again. Ichinomiya clears his throat, stopping the short-lived altercation.

“Make sure you take your pager.”

“Why, so you can badger me when you want coffee?”

“Just do what I say.”

“Just do what I say,” she mocks him, not bothering to look up from her Instagram feed. Chisato posted a cute selfie, that she gets a glimpse of before her phone is pulled from her hand, “hey!”

Kisaki has a hold of her phone, he’s perched himself on the arm of the chair she’s sitting in, his smarmy gremlin grin on his face. She doesn’t need him going through her phone, she’s already had one of them see her practically naked today.

“What are you look- hey,” she grabs her phone and yanks it from his hand, before pushing him off the chair arm. He gives a little yell, before his ass hits the floor.

“Don’t touch my phone.”

He shoots her a disgusted look from the floor and she hears the other men snickering.

“You’re so aggressive,” he says, glaring at her.

“Do you have something on there you don’t want people to see?” Baba asks, smirking.

“What is or isn’t on my phone is none of your concern.”

“You’re not helping yourself.” Ichinomiya isn’t looking up at them, but he’s smirking just the same.

“You’re not wrong.” She sighs, hiding her phone away back in her pocket.

There’s a knock, before Kenzaki steps into the lounge, carrying a laundry bag.

“Tomori’s clothes have been washed.”

She’s already out of her chair and making a beeline for Kenzaki, plucking the laundry bag from his hand and muttering a thanks before heading towards Baba’s bathroom. Tsuneko double, triple, checks that the door is locked before she starts to change back into her uniform. There is absolutely no signs of the wine on her uniform, the laundry services at the hotel are beyond amazing. Once she’s changed and tucked everything back into her uniform pockets, she’s able to get back to work. Cleaning the lounge and suites doesn’t take her much time at all

Tsuneko returns to her dorm later than average, going through her nighttime routine of caring for Kiyo and preparing for that stupid auction. The only thing unique to the whole process at this point is crossing off days until the end of the bet. It’s the final marker of the whole routine now, the last thing she does before she closes her eyes.

The next day at work isn’t quite as entertaining, Anais is enjoying Puroland with her family. Meaning, Tsuneko is left to her own usual routine. The first part of her shift passes by calmly and she gets to go enjoy lunch on time. Sakiko is eating a later lunch, Chisato and Itsuki got their lunch breaks to match up and are having a more romantic venture. So, Tsuneko decides to go out grab a quick bite during her break. Chisato already warned her that the gossip about Tsuneko working in the penthouse is only getting worse, so she’d rather have some distance between herself and her coworkers for a moment.

After filling her stomach with hamburger steak and catching up on Monster Lovers during her solo lunch, she’s headed back to the hotel. There’s a soft breeze blowing through as she reaches the backlot, just as a group of unfamiliar men venture through the back door. What are they doing? It’s always something at this fucking hotel.

“Excuse me, sirs!” She yells out as she starts sprinting after them, whatever reason they’re here, she plans on finding out. They don’t stop or respond out of earshot as she starts into the hotel. A glimpse of their back as they venture down the stairs, down to the basement level, she yells again. No response as they continue towards the sub-basement level, Wonderland.

“Hey!” Her voice jumps up another three octaves as she rushes down the final set of stairs. There are even more unfamiliar men there, a line forming out of Wonderland door. Men shoot her confused looks. It’s all random men of all ages and appearances, though, most don’t seem too pleasant.

She stomps and pushes her way through, all of the men shooting her dirty looks as she elbows her way through the crowd. Finally, she manages to make it into Wonderland. The Hatter is at the table across from one of the men, who have flooded the room. He has a notebook open before him and is scribbling notes, like he’s interviewing them.

“What are your hobbies?”

“Horse races, dog races, poker, pachinko.” Some man tells the Hatter in a gruff voice.

“Oh, so you’re a gambling man then. How much would you say you usually bet at once?”

“Everything I have at the moment.”

“You like high stakes bets then!”

“I borrow money from friends sometimes, tell ‘em I’ll pay them back with interest.”

“Have you paid any of these friends back?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright then. Next, please,” he calls another strange man forward to take the other’s place, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey.”

“I have several questions I’d like to ask you; do you live nearby?”

“About thirty minutes by train, I guess.”

“Yes, that’s a very fine distance; what are your hobbies?”

“Afternoon naps.’

“Pffff,” she scoffs, making both the man and the Hatter looks up at her.

“Alice! Where have you been?” The Hatter shoots her a bright smile, while the man is glaring. He barely looks old enough to drink, so if he’s trying to look scary, it’s not going to work for him.

“I just got back from my lunch break, what is all of this?” She gestures to the crowd of men.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I’m having auditions for the new March Hare and Dormouse.”

He’s not seriously letting strangers back in here, so soon after being robbed.

“And where exactly did you find these men?”

“I put an advertisement up on the website craigslist.”

“What?” Her eyes grow wide, that’s so dangerous, people have been killed from doing stupid shit like this.

“The online world is dull compared to Wonderland, but it’s very convenient.”

“No way, nope,” she shakes her head emphatically, “you’re not doing this.”

She pulls a chair from the table and climbs to stand on it, drawing attention to herself as well as seeing over the crowd of strangers.

“Alice, what are you doing?”

“Hey,” she calls out, “I’m sorry, but you all need to go! The position is closed, there is no job, sorry for the trouble, you gotta get out of here!”

“Alice!” The Hatter’s yell cuts through the disappointed grumbles of the men, she’s never seen him so angry, “please, do not act selfishly like that!”

“Selfishly!?”

“They all came out to be interviewed and you’re being rude!”

“I’ll show you rude, everybody get the fuck out!” She stomps her foot down on the chair for emphasis.

The Hatter is glaring at her as the men slowly make their way out of Wonderland. She needs to call Kenzaki and let him know, in case any of them get wise ideas about venturing through the hotel and causing trouble. Tsuneko hops down from the chair as the last man meanders out, grumbling under his breath about how good the pay was and she shuts the door behind him.

“Why did you interfere?” The Hatter is glaring with a heavy, childish pout.

“Because that was beyond stupid, that’s why!”

“I must find a new March Hare and Dormouse! You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the point, I don’t give a shit about the hare and mouse!”

“Did you forget how lovely our parties were?” His face falls from anger to sorrow, unable to quite meet her eyes.

“Did you forget that you were robbed like, two days ago?!”

“Of course not!”

“And what, you thought you should just have more strangers here?”

He bites his lip and doesn’t meet her eyes, brow furrowing.

“Do you have any idea how reckless that was? Any of those men could have robbed you or worse! Did you even think about that? Huh, what if I came down here and found you fucking dead, ‘cause you let anyone with a pulse and internet just waltz on in.”

“I-”

“And what about everyone else here? What if one of them decided to go do something to a guest or one of the workers? For fucks sakes, even if those men weren’t bad, what if they found out about the auctions? What do you think Ichinomiya and them would do to keep them quiet?!”

“I-”

“You could have gotten yourself and someone else killed, you can’t do this shit!”

His butt hits the ground with a thump, he’s plopped on the ground and pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his pouting face there. Watching an actual seven-year-old child felt less like babysitting. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, getting her phone from her pocket then punching in Kenzaki’s number.

“Hey, yeah, it’s Tomori. We’ve had an issue in the tearoom with security, everyone is safe, and nothing is taken. But I think it might be good to keep an eye out for any strange characters.”

Kenzaki assures her it’s taken care of and she hangs up, looking over to see the Hatter still hasn’t budged from his new spot on the floor. She sighs, she knows he wants his dream Wonderland tea party, but he can’t sacrifice his own or someone else’s safety for that. Tsuneko chews her lip, the March Hare and Dormouse didn’t do much, other than arrange furniture. She can do that; god knows the pair of them weren’t conversationalists.

Most of her plushies are licensed characters as are most of the ones in her crane games, so they probably won’t work for him. She does a few searches for dormouse and hare plushies, it takes her a few moments to find ones cute enough to add to her cart. Tsuneko sits on the floor next to the Hatter who’s still pouting.

“I just wanted to have our tea parties again,” he mumbles against his knees.

“I know, sweetie, but hey, how about these?” She nudges her phone against his knee, getting his attention. He finally looks up, eyes soft with unshed tears and biting at his lip before looking at the phone.

“Oh…”

“Would that work, having stuffed animals instead?”

“Would you be happy with that?”

“Well, yeah. I mean let’s be honest, the March Hare and Dormouse weren’t exactly shining conversationalists. All I care about is that you’re safe.”

“That’s good then,” he says with a soft smile.

“Okay, I’ll order them and the tea party will be complete before you know it.” She pats her hand on his back, hoping the gesture can convey even just a bit of comfort. He seems to relax under her touch.

The door rattles open and all that comfort is useless as Ichinomiya steps into the room, no doubt Kenzaki informed him of the situation. The Hatter visibly curls into himself as the CEO’s harsh gaze lands on him.

“What happened?” He doesn’t ask for, so much as demand an answer.

“I-” The Hatter stumbles over his words and stalls, that shy soft-spoken boy shining through the façade. She squeezes his shoulder tight.

“There was a little issue, he let in a few strangers…but they’re gone now.’

“You let strangers in, again?”

“Um…”

“I already ripped him a new one. You know why it was wrong, right Mads?”

He nods his head, hat nearly falling over from the force of it.

“And you’re not gonna do it again, right?”

Another nod.

“See, it’s fixed, I just wanted to make sure Kenzaki knew what happened, just in case.”

“I can’t have just anyone coming down here.”

“He knows, he knows.”

“He can talk for himself.”

“Not with you scaring him, he can’t.”

“Is this going to happen again?”

“No, I won’t do it again…” The Hatter mumbles out a response.

“I’m holding you to that.” There’s a subtle threatening edge to his words, like a father threatening to ground his son.

“He knows, go, go,” she tries to shoo him off like a fly, earning a glare, “I’ll make you coffee when I clean the penthouse later.”

“Obviously.” He sneers and gives another stern look towards the Hatter before finally taking his leave.

She spends a few more minutes with the Hatter, ensuring he’s feeling better before she goes back to work. Her shift passes by with her on edge, looking out for any of the men from the Hatter’s auditions. None of them seem to have spread out to the hotel or taken up causing trouble, so she’s able to finish up work with little trouble. Other than a moment of annoyance when she makes Ichinomiya his precious coffee.

“You guys wanna get drinks?” Chisato asks as they’re leaving the locker room.

“You sure that’s a great idea with little miss pervert here?” Sakiko points a thumb in Tsuneko’s direction, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

“I’m not up for it anyway, so don’t worry.” She playfully shoves her as they leave out the back entrance. With the stress of the Hatter’s little auditions, this is the kind of night meant for cozy pajamas and ferret cuddles.

Chisato and Sakiko wave a bye to Tsuneko as they venture off towards the bar, her towards the dorms. Her steps halt, who’s outside the dorms? It’s a younger man, mess of auburn hair and green gold eyes, leaning against the building. A moment passes by before she realizes where she’s seen him before, he was one of the men interviewing with the Hatter. What on earth is he still doing here?

“Hey!” She yells out as she marches over towards the guy.

“You really do yell a lot, don’t you?” He comments, raising an eyebrow at her.

“What are you still doing here? I told you to go home.”

“And why would I do that?”

“’Cause there’s literally no reason for you to be here.”

“What’s the deal with the dude in the basement?” He asks suddenly and it’s like ice water’s been dumped on her. Of course, there had to be one person who stuck it out to ask questions.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Alice, was it?”

“Tsuneko, now go home.”

“I’m Hachirou, look, if I can’t make a buck off of this, I at least wanna know what the hell is going on,” he pleads as she’s opening the door to the complex.

“Go home and stop answering craigslist ads, it’s dangerous.”

With that she disappears into the complex, heading to her own dorm. Once there, she peeks out the window, watching as Hachirou finally takes his leave. She clutches her good luck charm and hopes that will be the end of it, for his sake more than her own.

#kbtbb kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #eisuke ichinomiya #soryu oh #mamoru kishi #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #rhion hatter #tsuneko tomori #black market wonderland

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morphituu · 5 years

Text

Milagro

Chapter 16: The Hidden Race

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15

“Okay okay,” Nick cleared his throat, shimmying his shoulders before taking Callie’s small hands in his and leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh- but as soon as he caught sight of the grin she fought, he was following it with a loud snort and a barely contained smile.

“I can’t do it,” he whined while pressing his face into his palms. “You keep making faces,”

“I’m not making anything, it’s just my face!” Callie defended.

“It looks funny!”

Her eyes narrowed. “My face is funny looking?”

“Yeah cuz you keep making faces,”

“Might I suggest,” the photographer interjected, raising his hand. “We try a different position?”

The couple looked at him, Callie’s global stomach in Nick’s hands where she was perched in his lap before the silky backdrop that had been set up in their living room for the maternity photos they all had been struggling through the past hour.

“Does he have to keep looking at my funny face?” Callie mouthed off, ignoring the roll of Nick’s eyes.

“Nope!” the young man stood with his impressive camera in hand, smoothing down his slacks.

She looked to Nick skeptically who in turn appeared willing, and he carefully hoisted her up once she slid back from his lap.

“This is better,” Nick spoke against her stomach, his arm hung loosely over her side and their thighs stacked as the photographer fluffed the plush comforter around the pair.

Callie wiggled this way and that, asking Nick to stuff part of the blanket under her for support when his other arm alone didn’t offer enough. Finally they punched enough pillows into submission and layered enough blankets for the sunlight coming through the window to cast over them beautifully in the late afternoon.

“Okay, y’all ready?” the young man asked as he ascended a ladder, secretly pleased with himself for setting up such a picturesque moment so hastily.

“Ready,” Callie exhaled with a final wiggle deeper into the bedding.

His hold on the camera adjusted as he peered through the viewfinder, twisting the lens delicately. “Okay Nick, let’s have you put your hand back on her thigh?”

Nick listened, the vibrant red of the roses across her hip and thigh striking against his dark, mottled skin.

“And Callie, your hand over your stomach?”

Just as she’d done so, Nick pressed a secret, tender kiss to the top of her stomach when Leo nudged, lost in the moment and forgetful of the camera looming overhead.

“Just like that, don’t move!” the photographer instructed, squinting through the viewfinder and his camera clicking rapidly in a flurry of shots.

The arm under his head shifted, and Nick purred when her hand stroked the back of his head, craning his neck back to press his head under her chin.

“You two are very photogenic,”

Nick scoffed. “You mean she’s photogenic,”

“You have a very nice side profile,” he emphasized, curled over the ladder to take advantage of more extreme angles.

Callie caught the beginnings of a blush, tapping his carved cheek until he chuffed. “I told you you were pretty,” she whispered.

The flat glare she met once he looked up stirred a giggle, but he maneuvered his head back down in time for the photographer to take another round of pictures, directing their hands and even managing to get one of them looking at each other before the giggle fits returned.

“Alright, give it about two weeks and I’ll call when they’re ready.” The young man smiled, handing over the receipt and business card to Nick as he was walked to the front door.

Callie gave her most convincing smile until the door was closed, and then her arms dropped, a deep breath falling past her lips as she waddled to the couch. In record time the tights she’d slipped on to remain presentable after the shoot had finished were pushed down her legs, then the tanktop that felt like spanx against her hot skin was tossed off to leave her in the bralette and panties, and remembered this time to flip on the ceiling fan before lowering herself slowly into the couch, her body melting into the cushions.

Nick came back around to spot her taking in deep breaths and exhaling slowly, her eyes slid shut and brows furrowed in discomfort.

“Cramps?” he leaned on his hands against the armrest to gaze down at her.

“Hot flash and angry kicks,” she groaned, looking at him through one eye she could barely manage to keep open.

“Want the AC on?”

“Nooo,” she lamented. “Even with it on they still suck,”

Nick squatted beside the arm rest, his chin atop his folded arm while one of his wide palms rested where Leo shoved, keeping his amused smile at bay while she so clearly struggled through the discomforts of late pregnancy.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked in concern.

“Oh yeah. My ass is staying planted here the better part of the day,” Callie grinned, wincing when Leo tried standing. “Come talk to your son so he stops punishing me,” she groaned, arching back into the cushions.

Nick eagerly crawled around the couch and kneeled between her thighs although she protested against the heat of his body, pressing his cheek to her round stomach.

“Leonardo Makar, you listen,” he started, a solid kick pushing against his chin. “You don’t have much longer until you can come out and stretch those legs, but you need to take it easy on your mama. You’re gonna end up bursting from her stomach like an alien if you keep it up,”

“That’s horrifying,” she chuckled.

“Just a little bit longer mausan boausan,” he kissed, rubbing his cheek there.

“And then you can carry him,”

“I’ll never put him down,”

“Until your arms get tired,” she giggled. With his arms wrapped securely around her waist and gazing up at her big caramel eyes with his chin atop her stomach, it gave her the chance to canvas the deep tiredness in his eyes, and how they started to slide shut when she dragged her nails across his scalp.

“They’re getting worse,” she mumbled, but he only shook his head.

“They’re just back is all,” he corrected.

“You know you can talk to me about them, so they’re not stuck up here,” she tapped his temple.

“No. I don’t want to talk about them,” he groaned, hiding his face.

“You wake up screaming, baby,”

“And then I see you and I’m fine,”

“Nick,”

He reluctantly looked up again, knowing there was no escaping when she held his face, but why would he want to when her thumbs stroking under his eyes was so lulling?

“Talk to me,” she begged quietly.

He barely shook his head. “You don’t wanna know what I dream about,”

“I do if it means some piece of mind for you,”

He shrugged before standing. “I’m okay. I have more important things to worry about,”

“Like what?”

“Learning how to swaddle,” he grinned cheekily before walking into their room, leaving her to stretch across the couch with a defeated sigh.

The terrors that gripped him in his sleep had worsened since the time they’d first developed, but his refusal to seek any more help after what he called ‘useless therapy’ and sleeping medication that drowned him enough to slumber through a few morning alarms was the battle that needed to be fought first. There wasn’t any use scheduling appointments or showing the options until he was actually willing.

“Nick! Nick!” she tried screaming over his roars, his thrashing arms flinging into her stomach and chest as she fought to still him. A hard blow landed against her cheek sent her back into the sheets, tears springing to her eyes when the throbbing started to crawl across her face. She kicked back from him when his legs thrashed, but this couldn’t go on.

One of his wild kicks came deathly close to her stomach, but when he’d twisted onto side, she dared the chance to throw herself over him and sit over his stomach.

“Nick!” she yelled, grabbing for his face, but his sharp teeth grazed her palm, slicing easily through her skin. Callie flinched back, blood already pooling in her grasp, but she bit back the anxiousness firing to every end of her body to raise her unscathed hand and swing it against his cheek.

Nick’s eyes flew open, the last of a forlorn holler choked down as he acclimated to his surroundings.

His wide, reflective eyes bounced around in the dark until they landed on her above, the pair panting, dazed, and trembling.

He gazed up at her past the hair tousled before her face, about to ask what had happened, when he tasted the blood on his teeth. He flinched back from his own fingers once he touched his lips, looking back to her frantically.

“What did I do?” he breathed, sliding from beneath her.

“It’s okay-”

“Show me,” he demanded, reaching to turn on the lamp. She angled her chin down to hide her cheek that was still ringing, but Nick had already seen the deep red that would bleed purple and green soon enough. He angled her jaw, his face sorrowing.

“What did I-” he gasped, the fresh spice of her blood bringing him to her palm.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she pulled her bloody hand back, but his tired eyes were brimming with hot tears and unspoken apologies, his ragged breaths quickening.

“I’m- I’m so sorry,” he hiccuped, grabbing the sheet to press against her hand. “I’m so so sorry-”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she had his face again, her brows lined with determination, and although the pain was creeping into her eye, their gazes locked. following his head when he tried looking away in shame.

Nick’s head shook the farther it dropped, his shoulders shaking.

“Baby it’s okay,” she implored, trying to sit him upright, but he was already sobbing silently.

Callie surrounded his wide shoulders as best she could, echoing to him that all was well, but he was too far gone in his own guilt, not to mention the vivid nightmares still playing on loop in his mind.

Nick had lost himself in the memory as he stared at the disheveled bed; embarrassment was what reigned supreme over him now, but if he thought on it long enough, the guilt could blind him.

Callie was right, something needed to be done before it was Leo he ended up swinging into, but Nick couldn’t bring himself to even whisper the horrible images that played before him as he slumbered. He felt if he spoke of them and the way they made his stomach roil at just the mention of them, it would give them greater strength, if that was even possible.

“Get your foot out of there!” he heard Callie lament, and a grin cracked across his face.

Maybe Leo would be the solution, he pondered as he pulled on his shoes.

With the troubling thoughts pushed to the back of his mind to deal with another time, he came out into the living room again to find her moving objects across the kitchen bar around, but this had been the third time this week she’d found a new way to arrange the cups that held their pens and loose change, and now incense burners were perched at each end.

Nick watched over her shoulder as he grabbed his keys from the hook, his brows perking up when she placed her hands on her hips with a low puff and turned to look up at him.

“Restless?”

“I’m losing my mind, honestly,” she started swaying side to side when Leo spun. “And he keeps kicking me in the ribs,” she whined, pushing down on her stomach.

“We should set up the glider so you can relax while you rock him,”

“I was gonna call your mom to ask if she’d come help me with that today, actually,”

Nick’s ears twitched, his lips pulling into a straight line. “Don’t mention the house hunting,”

“You haven’t told her yet?” Callie griped, and he shook his head stiffly. “Do you not want to anymore?”

“No I do, but it’s a long stressful process and I’m just-”

“Tired all the time?” she interjected, lightly smacking his side when he lolled his head back to avoid her perceptive eyes. When she waited stubbornly, he looked down to her, eventually nodding.

“Gimmee a kiss,” she desired, stood on her tippy-toes to meet him halfway once dipping down to capture her mouth. She moaned appreciatively when he placed small repetitive pecks there, holding her small face and chuckling when her eyes fluttered drowsily.

“I gotta go,” he groused, resting a firm kiss on her cheek. “I love you,”

“You can’t avoid the topic forever,” she fought, but received a playful chuff in return, stepping towards the door with a final graze across her stomach.

He knew, and took her pleas seriously, but staring at her cheek that was bruised beneath the cover-up caused a wide stir of emotions he couldn’t take to work that day.

“I’ll figure something out, okay?” he tried reassuring, but her nod was still stiff, her mein anxious.

“Be safe,” she pouted, stirring a grin from Nick.

“Always am.” With that he left, leaving Callie to waddle back to the couch for a quick nap as he loaded into his truck.

↠

It wasn’t until he was walking through the back doors of the precinct did Nick realize that his bag was much lighter than usual because he’d forgotten the lunch Callie had packed for him, and when he turned down the hall towards the lockers his shoulder clipped the wall, further aggravating his already testy state of mind.

It was only the early afternoon and his sleep deprivation was catching up to him, his hands clumsily punching the buttons for an energy drink at the vending machine outside the lockers. The human ones were tame compared to the Orkish selection they conveniently never refilled, but it was the best he had to hopefully keep him going the rest of the day.

The drink was thrown back in a few mighty gulps, the can crushed in his fist before tossing it away as he wound his way through the lockers until coming up on Sergey who was already half dressed in his uniform.

“Lagging it today old man,” he teased, removing the ring gauges from his ears to fit the solid ones in.

“Shut up,” Nick yawned.

Sergey glanced over while Nick sluggishly pulled his pullover off. His brows curled in curiosity.

“Already feeling the sleepless nights before Leo is here?”

Nick eyed him; should I tell him? “Gettin’ it in before he gets here,” he smirked sleepily.

That was a lie. His exhaustion had all but muted his sex drive.

“You hound,” Sergey’s nose scrunched, his own smirk playing. Although Nicks excuse was false, Sergey and Dura were in fact squeezing in as much time as possible before Mariak was born, which wasn’t much farther than Leo’s own due date.

“Hey Jakoby,”

Nick turned mid pull of his undershirt down his body to find Tuvets, a heavyset officer he’d not really interacted with much waddling towards him, his uniform unbuttoned and beer belly hanging over his belt. He withheld a shudder; gotta cut back on the drinking.

“You handing these out?” Tuvets smiled, a bit winded. Handed over was the baby shower invites Nick had been passing around very choosingly, so the fact he had one was unsettling. Never did he think to give him one.

“Why do you have this?” Nick questioned, placing it in his locker despite the officer keeping his palm up for it’s return.

“Ahh, I saw it in Campos’s locker and took a look,” he laughed, waving off the invasion of privacy that Nick clearly disliked. “Being a little stingy with those invites, aren’t ya?”

Nick growled below his breath. “I don’t talk to many people here,” he decided to go with, flatly that was. He even kept his face in his locker to show how little he wanted to interact, but these kinds of people just didn’t understand social cues.

“Maybe if you tried talking to other people besides the string-bean once in a while,”

“Fuck you, Tuvets,” Sergey called from behind, flattening the velcro of his vest along his sides.

“Ah take a chill pill,” he waved him off. “I’m just saying, people think you’re a little… snobby the way you don’t try t’talk to anyone,” he went on, leaning closer despite Nick reclining.

“Oh that’s it?” Nick replied sarcastically.

“See like that! Try smiling once in a while too,” he beamed, his stained teeth making his stomach roil, not to mention the permanent beer breath many others leaned far away from if they were unlucky enough to be pinned by an unwanted conversation.

Nick chose not to answer, instead just nodding and going about buttoning up his shirt.

He knew Tuvets was lingering, but didn’t know why. He hoped if he stayed silent he’d finally get the hint and waddle off, but when the round man leaned back against the lockers, Nick dreaded knowing it meant he still wanted to talk.

“Hey uh… can I ask you something?”

There it is. “Hm?” Nick mumbled. Maybe if I ignored him he’d leave...

Tuvets glanced around them, leaning farther in. “Why’d you choose a human?”

Both his ears and eyes flickered in confusion. “What?”

“I mean, why didn’t you… y’know,” he rocked his hips. “With an Orc instead of a human?”

“How is that any of your business?” Nick snapped, his voice rising.

“It’s not, it’s just something most of us can’t figure out,” he tried to act innocent, but Nick knew it was either a weird kink of his or more bigoted nature coming forth. “I don’t mean anything offensive. Just can’t figure out why you didn’t stick with Orcs,”

“I don’t know- when you met your wife did you consciously tell yourself you only wanted human?” Nick retorted.

“Well no but-”

“No buts. It’s the same thing,” he made his tone final, his hardened expression hopefully conveying that he wanted nothing more to do with this conversation as he turned back to his locker.

The small breath of silence nearly convinced Nick that he’d gotten the point and would wander away, that was until he spoke again.

“But you had to have known having a halfling was wrong,”

Even Sergey’s head snapped to attention when that floated through the locker room, but Nick was already fuming, his pupils pin-sized and back straightening as a more combative side started to cloak over him.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he growled, his voice rippling.

Tuvets side-stepped uncomfortably. “It’s just something that you don’t do, you know? They’re not appropriate-”

“But pale faces can fuck their cousins and siblings?” Nick boomed.

“That’s a far leap-”

“Farther than spitting shit that has no evidence to back it up?” Nick snarled, angrily stepping towards him.

“Forget it Nick, c’mon-” Sergey tried pulling him back, but he pulled his burly arms from his grip roughly.

“Jakoby chill, I’m sure your halfling will be fine-”

“His name is Leo!” Nick shouted, right in Tuvets’s face now who flinched away from the thundering voice and sharp teeth bared at him. “I’ll skin you alive if you ever mention him again you disgusting sack of shit.” Nick finished, his chuff forceful enough that it blew spit in Tuvets’s face.

At last Sergey managed to pull Nick away, silencing the low Orkish mutters he still emitted while his eyes kept steady on Tuvets.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, brother,” Tuvets grinned, but Sergey’s hand on his chest stopped him from getting to Nick again.

Although Sergey felt the same annoyance that was meager compared to Nick’s fury, he pleaded with his softer golden eyes for him to just walk away before his iron built partner turned him into a pile of ground meat. There was a second more of resistance, but a final, gentle push against his chest had the sphere shaped man shaking his head and walking away, leaving the two Orcs with eyes on them from all directions.

“You’ve all got nothing better to do?” Sergey snapped, waiting until most of them had returned to their own private conversations to turn back to Nick who had his vest on now, pulling the side flaps roughly about himself.

“Lat mir?” he asked, and with a long exhale, Nick nodded, his vision that had bled over clearing up.

Sergey patted his shoulder firmly, moving back to his locker. He knew offering any words of consolation would only be poking the beast. Even if he could ease some of his friends anger, it would do nothing to calm the inevitable heartache when people would still find something wrong with his halfling son, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered the same thing about Nick. Having known who he was even before he joined the force, it struck him as odd that he’d choose to couple with the race that so despised him, and furthermore breed knowing the stigma surrounding halflings.

The harassment he’d received alone from joining the LAPD and filing his own tusks had nearly been enough to make him step back from his decision, and he was blooded. Nick had come into it with the whole world against him; absolutely no one to show any real faith in him, and here he was playing with fire again.

It never made him think differently of the man he’d come to respect and look up to, but the questions still floated about in his mind on occasion.

Why would he choose to make his life more difficult than it already is?

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Nick grumbled once finished, buckling his utility belt in place before stalking out of the locker room.

Sergey followed quickly, still fixing his collar as they made their way to the morning briefing.

↠

“Are you sure you got it?” Dinara called, staring intently down at the two slender pieces of wood she was securing together.

“Yep!” Callie grunted from down the hall. The soft scraping of an object of substantial weight prompted Dinara to look away from her task at hand, but it wasn’t until she spotted Callie from the corner of her eyes hunched over and inching backwards did she start to rise from the floor.

“Whaav ayh laat- Calista, put that down!” she exclaimed, hurrying over to move Callie away from the colossal metal tool box she’d resorted to dragging down the hall from the laundry room.

“I only have a few more feet!” she fought breathlessly, but Dinara already had it in hand to carry into Leo’s room. “Nevermind, you clearly got it,”

“Thought an old woman like me could not handle this?”

“You’re the same size as me, I thought it would tip you over,” she shrugged.

“I carry one of these around with me when I work,” she exhaled as she sat again, offering an upturned palm to help lower a global Callie down next to her.

“Is what you needed in here?” she asked, returning to organizing the screws and washers into neat piles.

“He should, Oleg would scold him if he didn’t have- here it is,” Dinara smiled, holding up an allen wrench. “I can’t believe they didn’t include one,”

“Let’s demand a refund so we can buy you one,” Callie smiled deviously only to receive a playful roll of her eyes in return. “I mean, I can only assume we’ll be visiting more with Leo, so you’ll need one too,”

“And when you have more,” she placed the constructed base down, looking over her glasses. “I’ll have everything still,”

Callie was still, trying not to convey that she too had been in love with the idea of having a mini-nation of her own, but knew realistically this was probably her only time.

“You’ll need a bigger home than this,”

Callie dropped the cushion she’d been moving, fumbling to pick it up.

Dinara observed silently, smirking to herself as she spun the allen wrench. “Am I wrong for assuming you’d want more?”

“No, no no. I’ve always wanted a big family, I just don’t know if I can make anymore, mentally or physically,” Callie explained briefly, her grin folding into a playful frown.

Dinara nodded thoughtfully. “This little boy has taken a lot out of you, hasn’t he?”

“Nothing I wouldn’t mind giving up,” she assured. “But getting to this point was just… turbulent,”

“I hear that,” she nodded whilst starting to align the next part of the frame.

Callie had already gnawed her inner lip raw when she out of habit pulled her lips to the side, and she couldn’t bounce her leg the way she was perched on the floor. There was nowhere for this nervousness to go, until-

“We wanna look at bigger houses first,” Callie near blurted, but now she could see Nick’s tired eyes staring down at his phone when his mother would inevitably call to try setting this idea in motion.

Fuck.

“How long has this been decided?” Dinara questioned inquisitively.

“Jus’like’acoupleweeks?” Callie babbled, shoulders pulling up and in.

The first time Callie had caught Dinara staring at Nick the way she now did to her, she at last discovered just where Nick had developed the flat stare that often made her laugh, including now when she cut off a hard snort upon looking back to Dinara.

“I just closed on a three bedroom, I could’ve stalled,”

“I think it has to do with schedules, more than anything,” Callie tried covering.

“Is he working more?” his mother asked, her hands slowing.

“No,” Callie cleared her throat. “He just comes home exhausted so doing anything around that is tricky,”

“Why’s he so tired? You should be the one napping all the time,” Dinara cracked, standing to assemble higher pieces.

Callie had to stop herself from spitting it out like a red hot coal. There were no more avenues to turn down in hopes of convincing Nick to seek help once again for the nightmares that ruled his dreams, and the thought of consulting his parents had come to the forefront of her mind, but she didn’t want to break his trust after promising she wouldn’t since the first time those years ago the nightmares had manifested.

But did he see how he was torturing himself the longer he denied help? Surely not like she did.

“Did Nick ever have nightmares when he was little?” she asked cautiously, looking up to meet Dinara’s alarmed eyes.

“They’re starting again,” she replied definitively, an old heartache blooming after laying long dormant.

That blind sided Callie. “So he’s had them?” she asked, suddenly facing a monster instead of it’s shadow.

Dinara looked down at her hands fiddling with the screwdriver; an old habit that had died since Callie had stepped into Nick’s life.

“They first started when he was six, when he wasn’t telling us about the other boys at school that had singled him out,” she spoke sadly, coming to sit beside Callie with her back against the dresser. “It started as words but exploded into a couple fresh bruises a week. The school was useless, the other parents said it was boys being boys despite not knowing how my son begged every morning not to go anymore,”

“What happened?” Callie asked wide-eyed, her hand on her chest.

“Oleg started teaching him how to defend himself, but that only resulted in worse fights. Ukmall shifted from a smiling boy, to sad to an angry one so quickly- I can’t imagine how his heart must’ve hurt,”

Dinara’s head shook at the grim recollections; how badly she wanted to help her son but couldn’t make it past his walls.

“And during it all, he’d wake up screaming from the nightmares. Before Nick was,” she tensed her arms, grunting to display strength and momentarily lifting Callie’s sorrows. “He was a scrawny little teen, but it took all of Oleg to hold him down one night he woke up kicking and swinging,”

“It went on for that long?”

“Until he graduated, really. In college, he kept his head down and that was enough to keep people away for the most part, but Jirak if that boy didn’t fight our help every step of the way. No medication, no counseling, no even talking about it! He always told me ‘Ma, I can handle it’ and I’d…” she stopped to breathe, her warm sunflower eyes staring ahead as she steadied that tremble in her voice.

Callie had already been tearing, the imaginings of a child Nick learning at such an open hearted, innocent age that the world hated him for who he was, even before hate could be taught to him.

“I’d hold him when he finally woke up and tell him that holding in the fear was poisoning him. That even if he didn’t like it, he had to take medicine to cure the sickness,”

“And he listened?” Callie sniffled, using the bottom of her old sleeping shirt to wipe her misty cheeks.

Dinara nodded, also dabbing under her glasses. “It wasn’t much but the talking he did seemed to do the trick. Nick has always been one to keep things in here,” she motioned towards her chest. “But he forgets that everything has a limit,”

Callie agreed; it was a relief to know that maybe they weren’t destined to have sleepless nights, or risk what she didn’t have the heart to use as leverage against him: harming Leo.

“What’s on his mind then?” his mother asked having returned to the task at hand after composing herself.

“If he’d tell me he wouldn’t be punching me at 2 am,” Callie murmured a little bitterly.

“He’ll break soon. Exhaustion makes people weak, but I hope it’s sorted before he flings Leo into a wall,”

Callie shuddered, visibly disturbed by such a possibility; a stark one that had real grounds to stand on.

A sharp cramp rang up her stomach, pinching her eyes shut and starting a tight side to side shifting of her foot. Since the nights of screaming has started, her days had only been filled with cramps that made her stop in her tracks.

Her doctor had only needed a passing glance at Callie’s tired shoulders and jittering hands to recognize the stress that was coming off her in waves, but simply telling her to ‘avoid the stressors’ meant avoiding Nick, something she didn’t want to do at all.

“You better not pop before I have this, God forsaken piece ro ukhiav done.” Dinara snarled from behind her slim tusks and although her stomach was taut with a stinging cramp Callie laughed.

↠

It had been peaceful the better part of their late start to the day. Although the heat was steadily rising in LA, it didn’t seem enough to start the usual ‘summer rumble’ they faced yearly, but the two Orcs that sat in the old, beaten cruiser knew soon enough they’d be sweating off their body weight during chases and stand-offs. It would be best to soak in this downtime, but two high-strung and hormone driven Orcs would soon tire of the silence.

Nick had also chosen this particularly quiet street specifically for that reason: there was never any traffic. Maybe a double parking ticket every once in a blue moon, but all that was here were old homes with older inhabitants that stayed well below the speed limits. With that he didn’t feel the pressing need to keep his eyes up and alert and instead dragged them down at least ten different articles he’d devoured in the past hour, all of them detailing the stigma that was halflings.

The morphs, the disorders that sometimes came with them, the rarity of certain races crossing over; then he started getting into the numbers, more troubling, the few recorded births of halflings, but the high number of suicides and murders amongst them, that being mostly in teens, even some in adolescence.

“Amongst this hidden race of outcasts lies a startling epidemic of secret families, sometimes secret half-siblings, that officials are now warning of, and I quote, ‘A growing problem that we urge you to prevent. Stay well within your race not only to avoid the deadly disorders these children are born with, but the life of cruelty you’ll be putting your offspring through-“

He chucked his phone into the center console, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms.

“You alright?” Sergey asked around the Orkish jerky he’d been chewing on.

There was a pause before Nick nodded, dropping his hands and looking out to the street.

Sergey stuffed his own phone away. “Are you thinking about Leo?” He didn’t really need an answer. Since they’d left the precinct Nick had been either quiet or impatient, throwing objects around the car or snapping at the smallest of things, but who could blame him? His son was already receiving the harassment most kids had a chance at avoiding until their later years.

“I know I’m not one that’s good with words and I can’t begin to understand what you’re feeling, but if you need to vent, I’m here,” Sergey offered, but Nick didn’t acknowledge him. His knee was bouncing, and surely his mind was racing, but he remained composed.

The young Orc didn’t take offense to it and turned back to take his phone out when Nick spoke.

“I feel like I fucked up my own kids life,”

Sergey looked at him in dismay. “How?”

Nick sighed, his head bouncing back against the seat. “How could I bring a child into a world that hates halflings more than Orcs? What the fuck was I thinking?”

“You… you regret…?”

“No!” Nick snapped, glaring. “I…” he trailed off, choosing his words carefully. “I wanted nothing more than to give Callie a family and I’m- I’m so excited, but if anything happens to him, it’ll be my fault,”

“No it won’t, you can’t blame yourself for other people's cruelty,” Sergey urged, but Nick shook his head.

“If Callie’d had a human baby this wouldn’t even be an issue. What’ll it do to her if Leo doesn’t make it past high school?” he mumbled despondently.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“No. I don’t wanna burden her,”

“Don’t be stupid. You wanna have halflings together in this world but you won’t talk to her about it?” Sergey rattled off, chuffing back just as heatedly when Nick fired one at him. “Say it out loud again and see how dumb it sounds,”

Nick’s face was twisted in annoyance, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it because it really did sound stupid. He’d gone and used that same, empty, dangerous excuse twice in his time with Callie and it had almost resulted in her life ending, yet here he was again.

“You’re burdening her by not telling her,”

“Shut up already,” Nick mumbled.

More silence passed between them with Nick tugging at a frayed string on his uniform and Sergey observing the roads around them.

You’re burdening her by not telling her.

I thought I was saving her heartache. “She’s been nothing but happy when all she was before Leo was sad. I didn’t wanna take that away from her,”

Sergey nodded in understanding. “Do you think it would’ve changed her mind about being a mom to a halfling?”

“Never. I watch her look at the ultrasounds and Leo’s kicks in a way she’s never looked at me before. Nothing could change that,”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

It wasn’t even a question he needed to ask himself at that point. “Me. I keep reading stuff about halflings and the suicides and- and did you know there isn’t even an accurate number that makes up a percentage of halflings? They’re born in homes in secret because of the backlash they face. It’s like they’re excluded from basic rights,”

“I mean, yeah, that’s grim but wouldn’t you do everything in your power to make sure Leo didn’t meet that same fate?”

“That’s a rhetorical question,”

“I think it’s one you need to ask yourself as a reminder,” Sergey said derisively. “What good does worrying do for a future you can prevent?”

Nick opened his mouth to speak, but… it was true. How many times had he told Callie to think in the now, not the upcoming?

“At least you know your heart is in the right place. Now you just need to get that weird shaped head there,” Sergey beamed until Nick punched his arm forcefully. “You know I knew a halfling once,”

Nick’s ears flickered. “Yeah?”

Sergey nodded. “He was a Brezzik mix, and I’ll admit he was straight out of a horror film but he was one of the smartest people I knew, and quiet. He had like two friends in high school but would still interact like anyone else if they gave him the chance,”

“Did he…?” Nick asked, his finger pointing to his temple like a gun.

“I thought he did cuz after high school he up and vanished, but a couple years later I saw him in a grocery store with one of the same friends, just doing their thing like anyone else,”

“Just a normal guy?”

“Aren’t we all?”

Those words stuck with Nick as he flipped them back and forth in his mind. Often he’d thought of himself as the odd one out, and the harassment he’d endured solidified that for years, but what wasn’t normal about himself? What had he done in his life that anyone else wouldn’t? He was where most has trouble getting; a job, a roof he could keep over his head, Callie.

Leo was to be born into a hard world, but the ideal home.

Nick sighed softly, his exhaustion at last finding its end. The ideal home.

He stifled a low whine when he realized that this all could’ve been sorted with Callie’s help if he hadn’t been so stubborn, and in addition came upon the realization that since he’d locked her from his thoughts, she must’ve been stressing as well. And he’d noticed it! Her troubles showed so clearly and the past week she’d been jittery and stressed and in pain, but here he was thinking he was making everything better again by keeping his big mouth shut.

With a louder groan this time, he held his face wondering if any amount of food or gifts or apologies would ever be enough to convince her to marry him at this point.

“Don’t fret, old man. I’m here to help.” Sergey patted his arm affectionately, but coughed when Nick slugged him in the side.

He certainly could’ve reclined his seat and slept right there in his car before the taco shop in a matter of seconds if he wanted, but Nick was determined to get these enchiladas home to Callie in hopes it would pacify her before spilling the dread he’d been carrying.

But would it help when he started apologizing like an idiot?

Nick scoffed. “No.” His thumbs flew across the screen of his phone to text Callie he had the goods and was on his way home before turning the key in the ignition. It was a little unusual she was up so late when lately she’d been conking out by nine, but maybe the earlier promise of food had kept her up.

The drive home was quick through the empty streets as was collecting his belongings and towering bag of food once parked in the driveway.

It was a struggle to disarm the alarm once stepping through the door with his hands full, and it made him wonder how much practice he should be getting in before it was a car seat and diaper bag in hand.

“Baby?” he called out, setting his bags down on the table stacked with laundry piles.

Always he looked down at Pucca’s box besides the TV, her paw print and collar perched neatly beside it.

“Hey girl,” he said lowly, swiping his hand across the top to rid it of the fine layer of dust.

“In here!” Callie’s voice floated from the bathroom, and he padded down the hall once kicking his shoes off to find her comically stretched out in the bath, a knee hooked over the edge and all.

“Are you stuck?” he teased, but she flipped him off.

“Your mom made those spicy pork kebabs today and he’s been bouncing ever since,” she groaned tiredly, moving her bubbly covered hand from her stomach when Nick sat beside the tub to trace his fingertips over her wet skin.

“Think he’s gonna be a runner when he’s older?” Nick asked.

“I think by the time he’s ready to walk he’ll go straight to sprinting,”

He chuckled, simply placing his hands flat. It was becoming easier to feel which part of Leo was nudging. Once learning how to cup his head through her lower belly meant elbows were obvious from knees or feet, sometimes the soft impression of an arm showing.

“How was work?” she asked, reaching to use the back of her knuckles to trace his cheek.

“Uneventful,” he sighed, leaning in her touch. “Didn’t even write a ticket,”

“Easy money,” she grinned.

“Did you two get the glider up?”

“Eventually. I offered my expertise which was nothing at all so your mom did all the work,” Callie laughed, her smile fading when Nick started to doze off with his chin rested on his arm. “You should go to bed,”

“M-mm. I wanna eat,” he said through a closed jaw.

“Don’t wait for me then,”

“M-mm,”

“Mi amore,” she cooed, opening his heavy eyes. “You need all the rest you can get,”

“I get it,”

“Not as much lately,” she approached cautiously. He looked away, his cheek now rested on his arm and exhaling when she dragged her nails across his scalp. His touch still remained on her stomach, but he’d since gone still, his sleeve even dipping into the warm water without his notice. He was so out of it he didn’t even know his jacket was inside out; it was the third time it’d happened in a weeks time.

“You know you can talk to me,” she said softly, but only his eyes opened. “No matter how bad they are, I wanna know so I can help,”

“It’s not the nightmares, baby,” he groaned, rolling his head back to face her. “It’s what’s causing them,”

“Tell me then,” she didn’t mean for it to come out as a plea, but she was desperate to help. Never before had she’d seen him so consumed by his own dark thoughts, barely able to drag himself upright and face another daunting day.

Nick better situated himself beside the tub so he didn’t slip into a slumber while talking, and took a breath. “I feel like I set Leo up to become another statistic,”

Her brows pulled together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

This was a risk telling her; surely she’d find the same articles he came upon and feel- if not worse- the torment he did. “Do you know how rare it is for a halfling to grow into adulthood?”

“Because of the suicides?”

Nick blinked a couple times. “You-”

“Yep, every single one. As soon as I hit twelve weeks I couldn’t stop reading them,”

Nick was taken aback. “You’re not freaking out!?”

“I did for a hot minute, but then I thought of you,” she smiled, even giggling when his ears flicked in confusion. “You’ve had such a tough life that by all means should’ve ended you a long time ago, but you’re here,”

“Because of you,”

“Who was there before me though?” she asked, spinning to also rest her chin on her arm beside his.

“My parents,” he mumbled, and when he brows perked up, it made sense.

“If your parents gave you that same stubbornness that got you to where you are, I want Leo to have it too. It’s our job to protect him, but we also need to teach him to be strong and resilient, and that he can do anything he wants to in life despite being labeled,”

“I wasn’t a halfling though,”

“No, but you’re the first for a lot of things. Leo won’t be the first halfling,”

He stared into her endless eyes, and the serenity they emitted. “The numbers don’t freak you out at all?”

“Nope. I fucking refuse to let him become just another number logged. He’s our son, our boy. He’s gonna grow to be a man and live a fulfilling life, better than ours, and if hate comes with it then so be it, but he’s gonna learn to swing back when life takes swings at him, Nick. He’s gonna be just like you, baby,”

Her forehead came to press against his when he exhaled shakily, closing his eyes to hide the shine of fresh tears. He chuffed to fight off the torrent of emotions, but she only held his face, promising they could do this together, assuring him he wasn’t alone in this fight with his fears.

After a few moments of sly wipes across his eyes and some softer words that finally brought his face back to her so she could kiss him, Nick felt that the crushing weight of fatherhood perched on his shoulders could be lifted over time; all he needed was to build the strength to take on this next chapter of his life, just like any other thing he’d came out of on top.

“Let’s go then,” she sniffled, kissing him again. “I wanna eat,”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, standing to help her up and wrap a towel around her sudsy body.

“You know the practice we get in with Leo means we’ll be experts the second time around,” she teased, and his eyes narrowed.

“You talked to her about it today, didn't you?”

“No but she almost cornered me with it, and the bigger house thing,” Callie explained while she went about drying herself off.

“She’s clever. Before you know it we’ll be in a mansion without any money left for food or electricity,”

“We wanted a mansion anyways,” she shrugged, yelping when he pinched her side.

“Don’t even joke about that around her,” he groaned, walking from the bathroom.

Callie paused. “Maybe you should give her a call then, cuz I got her hopes up today,”

Nick spun to face her in alarm. “You said-”

“Ah I’m just fucking with you, let’s eat.” Callie smiled sheepishly, squeezing between him and the doorframe, a loud shriek coming forth when he chuffed behind her ear.

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HELLOOOOO AGAIN MY FRIENDS here i come with a wee lil chapter cuz listen shit will hit the fan soon, emotions stir. there's sadness AND happiness so please be patient with me and thank you to returning readers who've stuck around and anyone new! <3 hope to update again sooner than a month hehehe

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roman-writing · 5 years

Text

A Study in Hospitality (1/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses / Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Marianne von Edmund

Rating: T

Wordcount: 8,395

Summary: There’s a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU

Author’s note: I’m so predictable for writing this…..

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

“The assignment was to fall in love.

The details were up to you.”

-Louise Gluck, ‘Averno’

–

Everyone was always excited whenever a new batch of half-bloods rolled into camp. Not that many of them would admit it, Hilda included. Mostly they pretended to be bored at the concept of introducing new students to the grounds, in the hopes that they would come off as cool and aloof.

Unlike the others however, Hilda didn’t have to try very hard. She could pull off cool any time, any day. And everyone knew it.

So, when a sleek black limousine rolled up, students idled around the camp’s main square in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the new blood. The windows of the car were darkly tinted, which meant that nobody could get a good look inside. Honestly, it looked more like a hearse than anything else.

Hilda leaned against a pillar, and twirled a lock of shockingly pink hair around one finger. She arched a curious eyebrow at the limo as it rumbled to a halt with a high whine of brakes.

It could use some new brake fluid. Technically speaking she could do it, but she wouldn’t be caught dead beneath the hood of a vehicle. She had an image to uphold. Not to mention the havoc it would wreak on her manicure.

“My money is on Ares,” Claude said beside her.

Hilda rolled her eyes. “You say that every time.”

“Because I’m right.”

“I hope not. The last thing we need is more meat-heads.” Hilda scrunched up her nose at a few other students loitering nearby, who were all clearly in Ares Cabin. One of them was challenging another to do push-ups. Hilda watched as the challenge was accepted with gusto.

Shirts came off, and the two boys dropped to the grass of the central field. For all their faults, at least the children of Ares had some rockin’ bods.

Claude nudged her, and she dragged her reluctant attention away from the Ares boys.

The driver had stepped out of the vehicle. An honest to god butler-looking guy, complete with waistcoat and spotless white gloves. He rushed to one of the passenger doors, and opened it.

An old man unfolded from the bone-white leather seats inside. His suit was ashen but impeccable and pinstriped. He had silver hair and a hatchet face. When he stood to his full spindly height, he seemed to loom despite his heron’s stoop and the silver-headed cane clutched in his hand.

He was no god – at least none that Hilda recognised – though he could not have been fully mortal. Mortals couldn’t cross the camp lines.

Seteth stepped forward. When he nodded his head, it was like a bow of deference. “Margrave Edmund, thank you for joining us. You are most welcome here. I will look after your daughter personally.”

Hilda and Claude exchanged puzzled glances. Generally Seteth preferred a more hands off approach, letting professors Hanneman and Manuela take charge of lectures and whatnot. Seteth only ever dealt with individual students for special cases. Like delivering punishments, or handing out missions.

The Margrave had eyes like pale and tarnished coins. He bowed his head in return. “Thank you, Cichol. I entrust her to your care.”

A strange shiver ran through the earth at the sound of Seteth’s true Titan name. Seteth himself seemed unperturbed by the casual use of it. Meanwhile Hilda was left wondering how the hell this guy – fancy titles or no – managed to get away with using that name without being struck down by spears of light from the heavens.

“What daughter?” Hilda whispered.

Even as she spoke, another figure stirred within the shadows of the limousine. A girl stepped from the vehicle after her father. Hilda blinked in surprise. Most newcomers were young. They tended to be anywhere between ten and fifteen years of age, when they first arrived at camp half-blood. But this girl could not have been under the age of twenty, or Hilda would eat crow.

She was tall, thin, and gaunt as a blade. She wore a dark dress that made her dark eyes appear even larger and more lustrous. There was an odd quality to her pale hair, like the sheen of blued steel. Hilda might have thought it were dyed, if this girl didn’t look like the least likely candidate for hair dyeing. Her skin held a pallor as though she rarely saw the sun, and she seemed to shrink away from the bright early afternoon light.

The driver pulled a black suitcase from the boot of the limo, and deposited it at her feet. When he got a bit too close to her, she shied away from him. She tried to mask it as though she were reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. It did little to help her overall bedraggled personal appearance. Next to her sleek half-mortal father, she appeared disheveled, and not in an artful way. Honestly, Hilda probably could have tied a better messy bun in her sleep.

Claude leaned over and whispered to Hilda, “My bet is rich heiress of old money.”

“Hmm…” Hilda took a moment to consider her best guess. “I’m going to go with: orphan adopted by screwball philanthropist.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“Oh, you’re on, pretty boy.”

They shook hands.

“Marianne,” Seteth said with another of his pseudo-bows, “It is lovely to meet you. Please, if there’s anything I can do to improve your stay, let me know.”

For a moment she said nothing. She seemed afraid that Seteth was going to bite her or something. When she did finally speak, her voice was soft and tremulous. “Thank you.”

After speaking, she looked to Margrave Edmund as if for confirmation that she had said the right thing. He gave her none. Indeed, he did not so much as put his hand on her shoulder for comfort before nodding towards Seteth and folding himself back up into the limo.

The driver – butler? whatever – shut the door behind him, then trotted around to his own door. Marianne did not turn to watch the limo go, though at one point her dark eyes flickered in the direction of the dust plumes that rose in its wake. Immediately however, Marianne lowered her gaze to her own feet.

When the limo had gone from sight, Seteth gestured towards the suitcase. “Allow me.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll take it.” Marianne picked up the bag before Seteth could even reach for it. She spoke so softly, it was difficult to hear her over the raucous noise of the nearby Ares boys.

Claude hummed a contemplative note under his breath. “Either the heiress has something in that bag she doesn’t want anyone to see, or she isn’t as pampered as I’d originally thought.”

Hilda shot him a dirty look. “Why do you always think someone is hiding something?”

“Because they usually are.”

“Well, newsflash, but it reflects poorly on your own character. Just - y’know - an FYI.”

He shushed her, craning his neck as though it would help him better overhear what was going on further down the field. Seteth was leading Marianne across the centre of the field, the exact opposite direction from cabin eleven.

“Not an undetermined, then,” Claude muttered to himself. “Aphrodite?”

At the sound of her own mother, Hilda snorted. “Aphrodite? Not likely. Look at her, and then look at me.”

“Alright, point taken. So, Athena, then.”

“I dunno,” Hilda tongued at the inside of her cheek. “She seems a bit dreary, even for the Athena kids.”

Hilda and Claude watched from beneath the shelter of decorative white-marble pillars, as Seteth led Marianne across the field. A number of other curious faces also turned to follow their path, eager to learn of where this newcomer fell into their ranks.

Seteth stopped before the Demeter cabin, and knocked on the door.

“Wait, really?” Claude said. “She doesn’t seem like a child of Demeter.”

“Wow. Prejudiced, much?”

Claude pointed towards a small cluster of the Demeter kids that had emerged from the cabin to greet their newest member. “Just look at them. And then look at her.”

Hilda pursed her lips at having her own words thrown back at her. But she had to admit, he had a point. She didn’t tell him that, though. His head wouldn’t fit on his shoulders otherwise. Children of Apollo were almost always predisposed towards a certain cocky arrogance, and he had it in spades.

But the new girl definitely didn’t look anything like the other children of Demeter. Where Marianne was narrow and gaunt, the Demeter kids were homey and apple-cheeked. When Mercedes, the head of Demeter cabin, stood beside Marianne, the contrast could not have been more stark. Mercedes held out her hand to shake, but Marianne backed away a step as if the thought of being touched repulsed her.

Claude gave a sympathetic wince. “Oooh, chilly.”

“Okay, okay if you’re so sure that she’s undetermined, then why doesn’t Seteth just put her in with the Hermes kids like all the others?” Hilda asked.

“I don’t know,” Claude mused. He had that look on his face he always got when he stumbled across a particularly convoluted puzzle. “But I intend to find out.”

Hilda patted him on the shoulder. “Well, good luck with that.”

When she turned to walk away, intent on heading back towards the arts and crafts centre to work on her latest jewelry piece, Claude called after her. “Wait -? You really don’t care about getting to the bottom of this?”

“Nope!” Without looking back, she waved at him. “Later!”

–

Before the day could end – heck, even before dinner – Hilda ran into Seteth on the path between the mess hall and the cabins. She only caught sight of him at the last second as she was rounding the bend and humming to herself, when it was far too late to leap into the bushes and hide. Just her luck.

Raising her hand, Hilda greeted him with a cheeriness that was way too over the top. “Oh, Seteth! Good day to you, and farewell!”

And with that, she turned heel and began power walking in the opposite direction. Screw dinner. She could sneak into the dining pavilion later.

“Just a moment, Hilda. How are you feeling?”

With a low groan, Hilda stopped in her tracks. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to gather herself before she could turn back towards him with a forced smile on her face. “Oh! Ah, fine! I’m - I’m doing just fine. Thank you so much for asking!”

His eyes were a piercing green. He never seemed to need to blink. “Is that so? I’d heard you had fallen ill to a headache, and one of your fellow colleagues took over your duties of sweeping the armoury for the day. How thoughtful of them.”

“Well, you know how it is.” Hilda rocked back and forth between heel and toe. “My friends are just so kind and helpful like that.”

“Indeed. You should count your blessings that you have been so favoured.” His stare bore into her as though he were balancing her very spirit on the bronzed edge of a sword.

“Oh, I do! I - uh - I definitely do. Count. Every day.” A nervous little laugh escaped her at that. She could hear her voice strain slightly beneath the charmspeak laced into her words. She never could refrain from a bit of hypnotism when she was angry or nervous. It was a bad habit from her younger days.

Of course, it did nothing to Seteth. The magic washed over him like water from a duck’s back. “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “In fact, now that I know you have recovered, I have an assignment for you.”

Hilda’s heart skipped a beat. An assignment? She hadn’t been given an assignment in, like, years.

Okay. Maybe it had only been six months. But that was forever ago. This camp was only so big, and even if she wasn’t a year-rounder, she was so bored.

She immediately brightened. “Well, why didn’t you say so! Let’s hear it, then.”

Seteth’s hands were clasped behind his back in an officious pose. He looked like a statue. One of those stiff Egyptian ones. “I take it you, along with the rest of the camp, have heard about the newest addition to our ranks? Marianne von Edmund?”

“Yes,” Hilda said slowly, wondering if this was some sort of trick question. “Is she going to be joining me on the mission or something?”

“Hardly. Marianne doesn’t know anybody here, and I need you to do what you do best.”

“Which is -?” Hilda made a gesture with her hands, implying that Seteth should expand upon that topic. She was very good at a great many things. He was going to need to be a bit more specific.

“Befriend her, of course,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. She frowned in puzzlement. “What? Why me?”

“Because you are one of the camp’s most senior students -”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“- And because you know everyone, and everyone knows you. Which means that you can be a conduit for her to the rest of the camp. Introduce her to others. Make her feel at home.”

“Uhhhh everyone knows you, too. Why can’t you show her around?”

Seteth’s brows drew down. “I am the camp overseer. I have many duties to attend to, and while I hate to admit it, I cannot be everywhere at once. I am asking you to do this because I know you are the most capable for the job.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to expect too much from me?”

“At least once more.” Something like the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of Seteth’s mouth before vanishing once again. “Truth be told, I have always harboured high hopes for you. Especially after having trained your brother.”

It was true. Holst used to be the head of Aphrodite cabin. Everyone expected Hilda to do the same, which is exactly why she didn’t.

Head of a Cabin? Yikes. Way too much responsibility.

Hilda made a face. “No, thank you. And why can’t Mercedes have this assignment? She’s the head of Demeter cabin. She’s the one who should be showing her newbie the ropes.”

“It is important that Marianne is made to feel at home here. Unless you would like to excuse yourself from the sacred duties of hospitality?”

At that, Hilda’s blood ran cold. If there was one thing you did not mess with, it was xenia, the sacred concept of hospitality. She’d heard stories of those who broke the rules of hospitality, and she rather liked keeping her organs arranged in the way they currently were, thanks.

With a huff, Hilda crossed her arms and accepted her fate. “Ugh. Fine. Whatever.”

“You are disappointed,” Seteth said. It was not a question.

“Well, yeah,” Hilda mumbled. She scraped the toe of her shoe against the ground, sketching out a misshapen heart in the dirt. “When you said ‘assignment,’ I thought you meant with, like, weapons. And monsters. And going out there."

She gestured towards the treeline in the West, which demarcated the camp from the rest of the world.

Seteth looked in the direction indicated with a heavy, thoughtful expression. "Trust me when I tell you, Hilda, that this assignment is the most important you will receive during your time here.”

Hilda snorted. “What? Showing around The Marquise Mopey?”

At that, Seteth’s eyes flashed. He looked at her, and she paled. In his face she could see the blood-drenched earth, the frenzied clash of spear and shield from time immemorial. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was not in fact the soft-spoken gentleman façade he wore, but one of the five Kouretes. Ancient, Titan-born, and brother of the Furies. A deity of wild mountainsides, an inventor of rustic arts, the first of the armoured warrior-gods.

His voice was soft yet dangerous; it bore the weight of millenia when he spoke, “If I hear that you have been anything but kind and generous to our guest, you will answer to me personally. Do you understand?”

Hilda held up her hands as if to fend off a physical blow. “Woah! Relax. I wasn’t going to be all mean girls towards her, or anything. I love making friends!“

In an instant, the intensity faded from his gaze as though it had never been, though the air around him still seemed too warm. Or perhaps that was just the early summer heat. "Good. Then you’ll have no issue attending dinner with her.”

“Wait, you mean, like, right now?”

He arched a cool eyebrow at her. “Is that a problem?”

“What? No! Not at all! I’m going to crush this assignment. You’ll see. I’m hospitality incarnate.” Hilda ran a hand through her hair, and lifted her chin. “Hell, I’m the most charming person in this place! How hard can it be?”

–

As it turned out, it was hard. Very hard.

For starters, Marianne was difficult to even track down. Hilda looked everywhere. Demeter Cabin was empty, but for Ashe, who was watering the plants out front even though he could make them grow just by snapping his fingers. He claimed Marianne hadn’t spoken more than two words to him since her arrival, before she promptly vanished like smoke. The last he heard, Mercedes and Seteth had been giving her a tour of the camp.

It took Hilda over an hour to find her. By the end, she had given up on asking people if they had seen a tall, morose newcomer since her arrival, because nobody had. Not a single soul. It wasn’t until Hilda had well and truly given up – honestly, screw this; she was hungry and it was dinner time – that she spotted her. Hilda was emerging from the armoury, having given up all hope, when she blinked.

There, wandering at the edge of the forest, was Marianne. The dark blue of her long dress blended into the shadows of the woods. She looked like a lost spirit, the setting sun chasing her footsteps but never truly reaching her. As though the light were afraid to touch even the delicate gold embroidery of her hems.

Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth, and yelled, “Hey! Hey, you by the forest!! Yeah, you!”

At the first sound of Hilda’s voice, Marianne had stopped. She pointed to herself, then looked over her shoulder, as though there were the off chance Hilda was actually addressing a tree behind her or something.

“Don’t move! Just stay right there!” Hilda started jogging over, and boy if that wasn’t dedication then she didn’t know what was. These heels were not made for running. Seteth had better give her such a good fucking score on this assignment.

Hilda slid to a halt, nearly tripping as her heels caught on a loose stone in the ground. But she made the recovery as gracefully as she could manage. Which was super graceful. Divinely graceful, even. Well, semi-divine anyway. Close enough.

Luckily, Marianne followed instructions. She had not moved. Now, she blinked languidly at Hilda, her expression guarded, her stance tense, as though she were ready to bolt at any sudden movements.

Hilda pointed into the thick darkness of the forest. “You really shouldn’t go out into the forest alone. There are all sorts of monsters in there. Didn’t Seteth or Mercedes tell you that? Honestly!”

Marianne glanced towards the woods, but she seemed curious rather than afraid. “What kind of monsters?”

“I dunno. Minotaurs. Dragons. Hellhounds. All sorts.”

“Right,” Marianne said slowly. “And those…are bad?”

Hilda stared at her. “Yes. Yes, those are very bad.”

Marianne’s shoulders caved inwards as she seemed to shrink away from her. “Sorry.”

Oh, geesh. As far as first exchanges went, they were off to a bad start. Shit. Dazzle time.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being very rude.” Hilda straightened to her full height, which barely reached Marianne’s chin even when Marianne slouched like she was now. Hilda smiled as brilliantly as she knew how – which was Very Brilliant, let’s be honest – and held out her hand. “I’m Hilda. You’re Marianne, right? Nice to meet you!”

“Oh. Um - Hello.” Marianne did not take her hand. Instead, she lifted her own to her chest, and gave a nervous flutter of her fingers before clenching her hand into a fist beneath her collarbone.

A long moment of silence passed. Hilda lowered her hand. She tried to think of some way to break the ice, but each time a topic came to mind, it sloughed out of reach as though Marianne’s very presence rejected friendly conversation. Like trying to push together a set of repelling magnets.

It was the first time Hilda had ever been at a complete loss in a social situation. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Eventually, Marianne said, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at interacting with people.”

“What? No! It’s fine. You’re fine,” Hilda lied. “I’m just glad I found you when I did. Next time you come out here, be sure to bring a friend. That’s all.“

Marianne stared at her as though she were a hydra and had grown an extra head. "I don’t have friends.”

“Well, that’s very rude of you. I’m right here, thank you very much.” Hilda grinned, and brushed some of her long hair over one shoulder with a flounce.

If anything Marianne appeared taken aback. Her head jerked as if she had been struck, and she looked Hilda over. “What -?”

“No, no, you don’t need to say anything. A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”

“Th - Thank you?”

“You’re very welcome. Hey. It’s dinner time. Want to walk with me to the dining pavilion? I’ll point out everyone to you, so you know names and stuff. Sound good?”

“Um -”

“Great. C'mon! It’s this way.”

Gesturing for Marianne to follow, Hilda started walking in the direction of the dining pavilion. For a moment she heard no movement behind her. Then, hesitant footsteps. Marianne walked silently; Hilda could barely hear the rustle of leaves and the press of earth in every step. Hilda talked as they walked. She pointed out various landscapes and features, revealing hidden information about them that absolute squares like Seteth wouldn’t have told their newest member.

“If you want a really good time,” Hilda said as they strode along the pathway that followed the lake, “Take a dip in here at night.”

“What monsters are in the lake at night?”

“Absolutely none. It’s just fun!” Then Hilda amended, “Well, that’s not strictly true. I mean, there are totally monsters living in there. But the point is that at night the water is still all warm from the day, so it’s really nice. Plus it’s about the adventure of it, you know?”

That only seemed to puzzle Marianne all the more. Still, Hilda glanced over to find Marianne studying the lake with a faint gleam of curiosity in her eyes.

Hilda winked. “I’ll take you out one night. It’ll be fun!”

Ducking her head, Marianne mumbled, “I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“No time like the present! Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a great teacher. And I definitely won’t let you drown, or get eaten by a monster, or die, or - y’know -” Hilda shrugged. “- whatever. Because that’s what friends are for.”

To that, Marianne made no reply. She offered no further comments, allowing Hilda to carry the conversation all the way to the pavilion perched over the edge of the lake. Hilda was all too happy to do so; she filled up the silence with idle chatter. And yet, she never once got the impression that Marianne wasn’t listening. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The sun was setting over the hills by the time they arrived at the pavilion. Their shadows lengthened along the ground. Hilda noticed but made no comment on how Marianne’s shadow was nearly twice as long as her own. Marianne was taller, after all. That must have been the reason why.

The dining pavilion had not walls, only pillars lined with torches, but rain and wind never seemed to be able to get inside. Other students were already crowding the large tables that surrounded a central brazier bearing a bed of red-hot coals. Hilda stopped at the edge of the pavilion, and turned to Marianne.

“Alright, first thing’s first. You can’t sit at another god’s table. That’s just the rules. So, you’ll be over there.” Hilda waved her hand towards the Demeter table, where Mercedes and Ashe were already seated.

For some reason, that made Marianne shrink a bit more. She tugged at the ends of her long sleeves so that her hands were partially covered. The action reminded Hilda of a turtle trying to retract into its shell. “What if there’s nobody else in your Cabin?”

“Then you sit alone, unless you get special permission. It sucks. I know. But it’s only for meal times and sleeping. And luckily you and I don’t have to worry about that. Anyway, that brings us to our next point.” Hilda began to tick off names on her ringed fingers. “Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades Cabins are all empty. The Big Three haven’t had kids in, like, centuries, because their kids are always too powerful and kind of a pain in the neck or whatever. Hera Cabin and Artemis Cabin are also empty because goddess of marriage and goddess of virgins. Don’t like philandering, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Then we have the rest.”

Hilda pointed out each group in turn throughout the mess hall. “You already know the Demeter kids, so I won’t bother. There’s Hermes Cabin over there. Wanderers and thieves and lost souls. Undetermined kids go there, too. Anna is their leader. She’s the oldest student here. Don’t take bets with her. You’ll lose every time.”

Hilda moved along to the next group. Two of them had their noses in books while eating. “Athena Cabin. Nerds. All of them. Edelgard’s the boss there. Don’t let her pretty face fool you; she’s always calculating something behind the scenes. Or at least I always get that impression.”

“Then there’s the Apollo kids.” Hilda waved at Claude, who had caught sight of her. “That’s Claude. He sucked up the arrogance and charisma of all the other Apollo kids, but he’s not a bad guy at heart.”

“Next to them is Dionysus Cabin. Always check any food or drink they serve you. Enough said. There’s Hephaestus Cabin over there. Messy and creative. My people at heart if not by blood.”

Hilda’s hand drifted towards the next table along, the largest of the bunch filled with rowdy teens and twenty-somethings all with more muscles than sense. "And of course Ares Cabin. Just a bunch of guys being dudes. Dudes being guys. And also Petra is there. She’s pretty nice actually. Just don’t get on her bad side. She loves a fight more than anyone else I know. And if anyone gives you any trouble, you tell me and I’ll kick their asses for you. Got it?”

Marianne nodded, wide-eyed and attentive.

“Which leaves Aphrodite Cabin, full of the greatest people you’ll ever meet, including -” Hilda gestured to herself with a stunning smile, “- yours truly.“

At that, Marianne asked in a faint yet curious tone, "Are you the leader of Aphrodite Cabin?”

Hilda scrunched up her nose as though at a bad smell. “Gross. No way. I leave that job to Lorenz, thanks.”

“Oh,” Marianne ducked her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, or -”

But Hilda waved her away. “Nah, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go grab some food. Oh! Before I forget.” Hilda pointed out the central firepit. “Remember to leave a bit of your food, so you can offer it to the gods after we eat. Very important. Don’t skip that step.”

Marianne nodded solemnly. Then again, solemn just seemed to be her natural state of being.

“Okay! See you later, then!” And with that, Hilda flounced off towards her own table.

Behind her, Marianne floundered for a moment, before drifting over towards the other Demeter kids, who greeted her with smiles. Hilda watched as Marianne did not return them, just sat as far away from the others, so that she was perched on the very corner of the bench.

This was going to be a lot harder than Hilda had originally thought.

With a resigned sigh, Hilda tucked into her own meal. No sooner had she picked up her knife and fork however, than she felt something soft smack into the back of her head. A rolled up napkin landed on the table by her elbow.

Hilda looked at Sylvain, who was sitting directly opposite her. “Don’t tell me. It’s Claude, isn’t it?”

Sylvain grinned around his fork, pulling the utensil out of his mouth to answer, “Well, if you want a break from the guy, I’m always free.”

“Funny,” Hilda replied in a complete monotone. She twisted around in her seat. Sure enough, Claude was trying to catch her eye.

He lobbed something else towards her. This time, it was a little origami paper airplane with a wedge-like arrow shape. It flew straight and true, landing directly by Hilda’s plate. Groaning, Hilda unfolded the paper and read its contents.

‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in the newblood?’

“Do you have a pen?” Hilda held out her hand towards Sylvain.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he handed her a tube of unused lipstick. She arched an eyebrow at him.

Sylvain shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

Shrugging, Hilda uncapped the tube, gave its base a twist, and wrote her reply in bold scarlet. “Who even uses this shade?” she muttered under her breath. “I mean, I could totally pull it off, but -”

Sylvain had returned to his meal, but he said firmly, “I want it back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Hilda finished. She capped the lipstick and handed it back over to Sylvain. Then, she turned to toss the paper airplane back towards Claude. Whatever magic he had infused in it while folding its edges still remained, for it ducked and dipped around other students right for him like a bird in flight. Hilda did not wait to see his reaction to her reply, which read:

‘Seteth asked me to look after her. And no, I won’t help you with whatever you’re planning.’

She was a few bites into her meal, when the airplane returned. She crumpled it into a ball, and chucked it into the brazier, where it burned. Behind her, Hilda could hear Claude’s sound of outrage. Sylvain snickered into his cup.

From where Hilda sat, Marianne was just within view. Her slouched shoulders, her head bowed. Hilda watched with mild interest, as other students at her table attempted to engage her in conversation. Even those from other tables who were near enough tried to lean over and introduce themselves. They were all rebuffed. One by one. Without fail.

Eventually, Marianne had finished with her meal. Or perhaps she was simply finished with being in so crowded a space. She was a slow eater, but she was one of the first to rise from her seat. She picked morosely at her food, as though everything tasted like ash. And when she approached the brazier in the centre of the tables, her plate was still mostly full.

Marianne scraped her food into the brazier, and murmured something under her breath. The coals leapt to life with a dull roar, like the sound of distant waves against the shore. The flames burned a hot, pale, hungry blue, searing the food to white ash.

The entire dining pavilion fell silent. The clink of cutlery faded. People turned to stare. Marianne stood before the brazier, clutching her plate and knife, glancing around at all the stunned faces. She set the plate and knife down, then scurried from the pavilion, her head lowered.

After she had gone, people resumed their eating, but slowly. Over the heads of the other tables, Claude mouthed to Hilda: ‘What the fuck was that?’

Hilda shrugged at him, and then pretended to ignore the rest of his gestures for the remainder of the night.

–

Hilda did not think about Marianne for the rest of the evening. She went back to the arts centre, and finished off a new bangle she had been working on for the last two weeks. Even then, she was not completely satisfied with it, and tossed it back into the forge for one of the Hephaestus kids to re-smelt into something.

After giving up on that piece, Hilda went back to the drawing board. She pulled out a notebook and pencil, and began sketching out ideas for a brooch. Or maybe a hair pin. It could have been either. The forge blazed on the other side of the room. This area of camp was always populated, even in the earliest hours of the morning or the latest hours at night. Someone could always be found tinkering away on something. And tonight that person was Hilda.

She eventually wandered back to her cabin, but only when the designs all started bleeding together. Rubbing at her eyes with a yawn, she went about washing her face, changing her clothes, and crawling into the top bunk that had been assigned to her years ago. She could hear Sylvain snoring on the opposite side of the cabin, and was tempted to throw a pillow at him to get him to roll over.

At some point, she had fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, a pinkish light was filtering through the tinted windows right into her face. To make things worse, Lorenz was swanning about, handing out that week’s chore list to everyone.

He reached her bunk bed. “Hilda.”

Hilda pulled a pillow over her head, and rolled over.

Lorenz circled around to the other side of the bunk bed, so he could wave her chore list in her face. “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not,” Hilda groaned, her voice muffled beneath the pillow.

He swatted at her pillow with the folded up piece of paper, until she gave up and snatched it from his hand.

“There,” he said smugly. “Was that really so hard?”

“Not all of us are up with the larks every morning,” Hilda grumbled, but he was already striding away to dish out everyone else’s responsibilities.

Not bothering to sit up, Hilda hung her head over the side of the bed so that her long untidy hair fell over the side. She rubbed at one eye as she read over the week’s chores.

Monday - 0900 to 1100 - Cooking Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Tuesday - 1100 to 1430 - Pegasus Stable Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Wednesday - 1500 to 1700 - Gardening Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

…Now, hang on just a damn second.

Hilda rubbed at her other eye to make sure she was reading everything right. She frowned at the page, and held it a little closer to her face.

Okay. She was definitely reading that right. Apparently hospitality homework extended to more than just a quick Intro to Camp 101. But really, Seteth didn’t have to go out of his way to pair them up for everything. It wasn’t like she was going to try to wriggle out of her assignment. That was just insulting. And completely untrue.

Hilda let her arm flop to the side, and the page of chores fluttered to the floor from her grip. She covered her eyes with her other hand, and groaned. Honestly this should’ve been the easiest assignment ever. If not for the fact that Marianne was so much work.

“Is something the matter?” Lorenz asked from across the room.

“No,” Hilda sighed, dragging her hand down her face. “Everything’s just peachy.”

–

The first chore was cooking. Or rather, it was preparing lunch meals for a group of younger students going out into the forest for the first time with Manuela.

It went poorly. Neither of them were very good in the kitchen. Which was odd, because Demeter kids were all great at cooking. It was one of their Things. Right alongside having a greenthumb that would make an eighteenth century English landscaper cream himself.

The food wasn’t disastrous, by any stretch of the imagination. They got the meals ready and packaged in time. But nothing tasted that great, and there was an awful lot of mess left over afterwards, which meant that Hilda moaned about having to clean up the whole time. All the while, Marianne remained silent, looking like she was at a loss on how to use a modern sink to wash the cutting boards. Like she’d been dumped into the present day from hundreds of years ago.

Hilda did the bulk of the talking for the whole two hours. Every now and then, Marianne would make a noise, like a soft hum at the back of her throat, as if that were her sole form of contribution to the conversation. Once – shockingly – she even asked if Hilda could pass her a knife. When their fingers almost brushed along the handle, Marianne dropped the blade and stuttered on her apologies for two whole minutes.

So, yeah. This assignment kind of sucked so far.

–

Monday passed without much incident. At ten minutes past eleven on Tuesday, Hilda wandered up to the pegasus stables for their shared chores. Marianne was already there. She had a handful of carrots, and was feeding one to a pegasus. The beast’s head leaned out of his stall as far as he could go in an attempt to get closer to the source of the treats.

"Don’t be greedy,” Marianne chided softly. Even so, she fed the pegasus another carrot.

“Heyoo,” Hilda greeted.

Marianne almost dropped the carrots in one hand. She turned to see Hilda striding towards her. “Oh. Good afternoon, Hilda. You’re looking - uh - well.”

“Thanks.” Hilda did not even take offense to the belated attempt at praise. It was more than Marianne had been able to muster up over the last two days, which meant progress. Baby steps. They would get there. Eventually. Very eventually.

Stopping beside Marianne, Hilda nodded towards the pegasus, which was still chewing on the end of the carrot. “You’re awfully good with them. Normally, they hate me.”

The pegasus spoke while still chewing, his words punctuated with loud crunching noises. “I don’t hate you. That’s quite a strong word. I’m indifferent about you.”

Hilda scowled. “That’s even worse, Grass-Head.”

“My name,” the pegasus said in as acidic a tone as psychic words could convey, “is Minty.”

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Oh, like that’s any better.”

“I like horses,” Marianne admitted. “My father used to let me ride his sometimes.”

At that, Minty stamped his hoof, which scraped against the stall door. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t ride me. You smell like rotten eggs. But if you keep the carrots coming, I’ll let you pet me.”

“How generous,” Hilda drawled.

On the other hand Marianne hastily offered another carrot. Minty grabbed it between his teeth and began to chew, while Marianne reached up to pat his head and play with his silky forelock.

Hilda gave her a sidelong glance. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Your dad had horses?”

Marianne mulled over her words very carefully before responding. “Yes. Four of them. They didn’t talk, though.”

“Did they still like carrots?”

“Uhm -”

But Minty answered instead, “All horses love carrots.” He snuffled around Marianne’s hand, trying to reach the other bunch of carrots held there.

“There are other pegasi here,” Hilda pointed out. Indeed, a number of other pegasi were watching this exchange from their own stalls, their heads eagerly extended above the doors.

“Ignore those guys,” Minty said. “They definitely don’t want these.”

“Greedy asshole,” Hilda muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.”

“Whatever.” Hilda jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and said to Marianne, “I’m going to go grab some gloves, pitchforks, and a wheelbarrow. I would highly recommend wearing gloves, yourself.”

“Alright. I’ll come with you.” Marianne gave Minty one last carrot, taking the time to pat him on the head some more, before turning to follow Hilda.

Marianne spoke a bit more today. Not much more, but a bit. The pegasi all took an interest in her, even if they generally did not want Marianne to touch them unless bribed with treats. They made odd comments about her smell, while remaining generally uninterested in Hilda’s presence entirely.

Which was rather insulting, really. Hilda was not a person accustomed to being treated with indifference. And charmspeak did not work on pegasi like it did on people. Annoyingly.

Hilda tried. She received a series of nickers that could only be described as amused in a mocking way.

Afterwards, Hilda was sweaty and annoyed. She tipped a load of straw into the last stable, and raked it around, while Marianne chatted with the pegasus. If only it were that easy to get Marianne to talk to actual humans. Her sentences were still short and carefully combed of any personal information, but still.

And at the end of it all, Marianne even offered Hilda a little wave and a hesitant, “See you tomorrow,” before they parted ways for the day.

Leaning on a pitchfork, Hilda watched her go. “Weird,” she muttered under her breath, when she was sure Marianne was out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Minty said from behind her. “You’re telling me.”

–

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Hilda was just about ready to bail on chores entirely. Honestly, it was a miracle she’d made it this far in the first place. She should have been awarded gold stars for exceeding all expectations. Normally she would have weasled her way out of the week’s responsibilities by Tuesday.

Not that it had anything to do with Marianne. Because it didn’t. Hilda just hated chores. She had a jewelry project she wanted to work on, some people she wanted to flirt with, and a monster hunt in the forest that sounded like way more fun than gardening.

Plus, it was hot. The late afternoon sun was an unimpeded glaring yellow dot in the sky, and Hilda was boiling. She fanned herself with a pair of leather pruning gloves. Her eyes were shielded behind a pair of pink-lensed glasses, and her head was covered in a black-ribboned straw hat.

Marianne stood beside her, hands nervously wringing another pair of gloves together. Whereas the sun glared down upon Hilda in full force, it somehow seemed to miss Marianne. As though she were sidestepping the light entirely. She still wore a dress with long sleeves, and long hems, and a high collar.

“I honestly don’t know how you’re surviving in all that.”

Marianne blinked in confusion. “What?”

Hilda gestured with the gloves towards Marianne’s clothes. “Aren’t you baking?”

Plucking at her long hems, Marianne said, “No.”

Hilda blew a raspberry, and pulled her gloves on. “Lucky you. Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

An empty flower bed stretched along the ground at their feet. It skirted the edges of one of the main pathways between the cabins and the amphitheatre. The flower bed was narrow, but long, extending over a little hill and out of sight. Even looking at it made Hilda’s knees feel tired.

She and Marianne had hauled a cart from the garden sheds, laden with trowels, liquid fertilizer, seed packets, and enormous quantities of small sprouting flowers. They had since unloaded all the flowers onto the path, ready to be planted over the next few hours.

Hilda was picking up a trowel, when it suddenly struck her. She rounded on Marianne, excitement lacing her voice. “Hey, you’re a Demeter kid! That means you’re really good with plants and stuff, right?”

“Uhm -”

“Great! You can just -” Hilda wiggled her gloved fingers at the flower bed “- do that nature magic you guys are so good at, while I clean up. And we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I don’t think -”

“Don’t worry,” Hilda said, already gathering up all the gardening supplies so that she could carry them back to the shed. She would make the trip in one go if it killed her. Only cowards had to make two trips. “Nobody will care, so long as everything is planted and growing properly. Besides, this way we can both get out early. Hey! I can take you to the lake for some swimming practice! Doesn’t that sound fun? Let’s do that.”

She didn’t give Marianne a chance to answer. She was already grabbing up the cart’s handle, and hauling it back over to the garden shed.

The trip took a grand total of ten minutes. Feeling triumphant in her cleverness, Hilda sauntered back down the pathway. She was daydreaming about finally casting that new hair pin design in gold, when she rounded the corner, and froze.

Marianne was kneeling on the ground. In a great circle around her, the seedlings had been arrayed. When Hilda had left, the plants had been green and bright. Now, the leaves and flowers were all black and wilted, and the earth around them dark as if scorched. Faint curls of smoke drifted through the air from the ground, and the smell was rancid. Like sulfur.

“What -?” Hilda started to say, but she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Marianne jerked to her feet, brushing off the hems of her dress with trembling hands. Before she could get a good look at Marianne’s face, Hilda turned, and found herself face to face with Mercedes, who looked between the two of them in astonishment.

“Is everything alright?” Mercedes asked. Her eyes widened when she looked at the flowers at Marianne’s feet. “Goodness! What happened?”

"I -” Marianne’s lower lip trembled. She looked to be on the verge of outright tears.

Before she could say anything, Hilda stepped forward. “It was my fault,” Hilda insisted. “You know how I am. I thought I was spraying liquid fertilizer, but I’d accidentally grabbed that magic weed killer Ashe has been developing out in the sheds.”

With a nod of her head, Mercedes hummed. “Yes, that does sound like it would do the trick.”

“I’m so so sorry, Mercedes,” Hilda continued in her most wide-eyed, contrite tone. She smacked herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I can’t believe I was so careless!”

Immediately, Mercedes placed her hands on Hilda’s upper arms, warm and comforting. “Oh, no! Don’t blame yourself! It was an honest mistake, I’m sure. It’s nothing we can’t fix.”

“You think so?” Hilda put a breathless quality into her voice to really sell it. There was no need for charmspeak here. It would probably work on Mercedes, but she didn’t need it.

Mercedes nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Thank you so much. You really are a life-saver, Mercedes.”

“No, no. It’s nothing. Helping is the least I can do.”

There were still the seed packets left over. They had escaped whatever magic that had blighted the area around Marianne. In Mercedes’ capable hands, it took a matter of minutes for the seeds to be scattered and growing all along the flowerbed. Still, a dead patch remained in one section of the flowerbed, where the seeds refused to grow, even beneath the force of Mercedes’ magical gifts.

“How strange,” Mercedes mused, studying the patch with a quizzical tilt of her head. “The soil in this area feels odd. I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

If Marianne’s shoulders could hunch up around her ears any more, then her head would become a part of her chest cavity.

Hilda tried to distract Mercedes. “You’re amazing,” she gushed. “I wish I had powers like that.”

It worked. Mercedes turned her attention away from the flower bed. “Don’t be silly. You have extraordinary powers yourself, Hilda.”

“Oh, no. Not like you, and the others. You’re incredible. Really.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Marianne remained silent. Her eyes were downcast. Something about the late afternoon light made them appear darker.

It took another five or so minutes to convince Mercedes that they should part ways without carrying around any suspicions. By the end, Mercedes continued on her way towards the amphitheatre with a merry wave of farewell and a promise to more clearly label the experimental weed killer in the garden shed.

When she had gone over the hill, leaving the two of them alone, Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew!” She took off her straw hat, and fanned herself with its wide brim. “That was lucky. Are you alright?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Marianne mumbled. She refused to meet Hilda’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have had to do - I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry.”

Before she could think to stop herself, Hilda reached out to place a hand on Marianne’s shoulder. But before she could touch her, Marianne recoiled.

“Please, don’t,” Marianne gasped. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She wiped at them with the backs of her hands, and staggered away a step. “Don’t touch me. Don’t -”

Hilda opened her mouth to speak, but Marianne had already turned tail and was stumbling away. She did not bother to take the path, and instead fled directly across the field. The ground in her wake bore dark blistering marks in the shape of her footprints, as though her every step were bleeding the earth dry.

Hat in hand, Hilda stared after her. “What,” she muttered, “the fuck?”

–

NOTES:

The title is a reference to “A Study in Scarlet.” Not that there’s any murder in this story, just to allude that there is a mystery

This AU does not perfectly follow the Percy Jackson world. It just takes some of the main tenants from it. eg/ the Titan Wars are over, and many Titans (such as Seteth) have successfully integrated with the rest. And yes I know that if the Hades cabin is there, I should include the others to make up the full twenty. But I’m lazy.

None of the Percy Jackson characters will be making an appearance. It’s just our FE crew here.

#hilda valentine goneril #marianne von edmund #hildamari #hilda/marianne #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #roman writes

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Apocrypha Chapter Eleven: Departure

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Eleven: Departure

Note: I considered skipping this train ride section for pacing reasons, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make Vergil and V more uncomfortable than they already were. This is a quick intermission chapter because once this train arrives, it's beach time! Thanks again for the comments! This is going to be a fun few chapters!

(-~-)

It had been a relatively short time since the train had arrived, but it was now time for it to depart and head for greener pastures. With a final toot of it's horn, the heavy metal locomotive's wheels began to turn and it pulled away from the station, slowly gaining speed as it lumbered towards the tunnel at the far end of the tracks. It entered the pitch black space and barreled towards the far end, outward bound. Within the next few minutes they would be in the outskirts of town, cutting through the wooded plains that surrounded the county with a lovely view of the bay and the nearby mountains on either side of them. The oceanfront was only a few hours away, so they would be arriving just after daybreak. But before any of that happened, they needed to pass through the tunnel.

As the children peered out of the blackened windows in fascination, everyone made themselves comfortable. Lady and Trish retired to the far end of the car towards the entrance, still wrestling with their bags. Nico plopped down a few feet away from them, stretching out and relaxing. She didn't really have anything to do to pass the time, so a nap would suffice for the time being. Maybe she'd check out the snack car later on. Kyrie and Nero made sure that the children understood the limitations of what they were allowed to do on the train and then sat down, Kyrie opting to join Nico while Nero headed over to sit down next to Patty and Dante. The young blond woman was in the process of divulging some sort of complicated plot she wanted to enact once she got to the beach. Something about shopping and sunbathing. Nero couldn't be sure. He and Dante had both tuned out almost instantly.

During the on-boarding, V had made the decision that he would follow Vergil to his seat and sit with him. Setting aside the fact that basically every seat was available, aside from the ones that were currently being used to store luggage bags, Vergil had opted to sit as far away from everyone else as he could. His social battery was extremely low, second only to his eldest son. And even that was up for debate. The darkslayer needed to take a moment to collect his thoughts and compose himself. Stabbing someone to death the second the train pulled off wasn't the best way to kick off the trip, and he had the feeling that this was going to be a long day.

For now, all they could do was wait until they were able to see again and find something to do to pass the time until they reached their destination.

(-~-)

The countryside of Capulet City was a beautiful local filled with small cottages that sat in the middle of rolling green hills. The trees that bordered the crop fields on either side were lush and green, providing a perfect contrast to the snow capped mountains in the distance. They were only about an hour and a half from their destination, and not many other passengers had boarded during the quick stops that the train had made. Those that did had made their way to other cars, seemingly keying into the fact that everyone present was traveling as a group and that they'd be intruding in they came and sat in the middle of them. There were so many empty seats on the other train cars that it didn't make a difference one way or another.

Dante had long since dozed off again, leaving Nero alone with Patty. The two had met previously, but this was the first time they had actually gotten the chance to have a decent conversation. Kyrie had since joined them, sitting quietly and enjoying the beautiful view out the window next to her as she flipped through the pages of a random magazine she'd found in the food car. The children had finally run out of energy and fallen asleep, freeing up all the adults to do as they pleased as long as it was relatively quiet. It was a rare moment of relaxation and peace, and Kyrie was going to capitalize on it. After all, even when Nico and Nero were watching the children, there was always noise. It hadn't been silent like this since they'd taken them in, but she still adored the little ones and was proud of their decision to take them in. She just missed the peace and quiet they'd once had from time to time.

"So you guys grew up together and then started going out and now you have kids and stuff?! That's so cute!" Patty tried to keep her voice down, but she found the story of how Nero and Kyrie had met too cute whisper," I had so many boys at school ask me out that it's insane. Maybe I should have Dante pay them a visit sometime. Might not be worth it now, though. I graduated a couple of weeks ago. Dang it! Missed my chance at revenge!"

Kyrie smiled, glancing up from her magazine. She'd been so engrossed in it that she'd barely been paying attention, but she couldn't help but notice the last little bit of what the teen blond had said to her. She was a talkative girl, but she was very friendly.

"Oh, you're too kind, Patty! It's so nice to finally get to meet you. We've been so busy for a while now. Dealing with what happened in our home a few years ago has been rough, but I think everything is looking up now." Kyrie beamed, her face flushed from excitement and happiness," You should come by sometime for dinner! We could show you all the pretty new things they've built. I think you'd like it!"

Nero nodded in agreement, semi awake. His attention was drawn towards the back of the car where the other half of his family currently resided. V wasn't one for conversation, and neither was their father. What was he hoping to achieve by sitting with the older demon slayer? "Yea, you should totally come over sometime. Don't be surprised if the locals look at you funny, though. They aren't used to outsiders yet, but they're getting there. It's just taking a while."

Patty shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. She had an indignant but somehow silly look on her face. It was hard to tell how she actually felt about the proposition.

"No, I don't think I'd like it, you guys," She said firmly, driving home her point. At the last second she cracked a toothy grin, holding back mischievous laughter," I'd LOVE it! I've always wanted to go to an island! I'll totally come over when we get back from this trip. It's gonna be AMAZING!"

Nero shook his head, sighing internally. Yea, Patty had definitely been around Dante for too long. She was nuts, but in a fun sort of way. And watching the way she handled his uncle honestly cracked him up. She was a wildfire in a tiny woman's body, and he couldn't help but find her thoroughly enjoyable to be around. In a way, she reminded him of Nico. She just had better manners, wore a lot more pink, and cursed a lot less. But she reminded him of Kyrie, too. She was so well put together and, well, girly. In a way, she was like a perfect middle ground between Kyrie and Nico. And anyone that could boss Dante around got bonus points in his book. Well, just about anyone.

Kyrie giggled, clearly delighted by the young blond's response. "Wonderful! I look forward to it."

As if in response to their conversation, Dante slumped over and smacked his face against the table between them, promptly shaking himself awake. It didn't really hurt the youngest Son of Sparda so much as it annoyed him, but he was awake now either way.

"Ug, fell asleep. What did I miss?"

The three of them laughed, sharing their heads at the spectacle that had unfolded in front of them as Kyrie double checked to make sure that the devil hunter was alright. She knew he'd faced worse things before, but she still couldn't help but worry. "Oh, you two are just terrible. He could have hurt himself! Have you no shame?"

Nero, Patty, and Dante exchanged silent, blank glances before bursting into hysterical laughter. They were all suddenly very glad that they'd brought Kyrie along for the ride. That had to be the funniest damn thing they'd heard in a long time.

On the far side of the room, the sudden uptake in activity had caught V's attention. The young summoner craned his neck in an effort to get a better view of the excitement, his keen hearing catching the faintest glimmer of what they were going on about. For a moment, a small smirk ghosted his lips, humor lifting the boredom he felt. He'd been sitting there for a while, silently looking out of the window. He was battling the desire to enjoy his surroundings white also wanting to take a nap. But there was a time and a place for rest, and he'd have plenty of opportunities to do so later.

As V watched them continue to laugh and enjoy themselves, Vergil watched him in a manner so stealthy that V had yet to clue into it. The eldest of the twins sat with his back to the commotion, V sitting on the other side of the table from him. While he knew that he could sit basically wherever he wanted, their tickets had actually specified these seats. Vergil hadn't realized that he wasn't required to sit in the exact spot marked on his stub, and the last thing he was going to do was give Dante something to make fun of him about. So, at least for now, he was going to make it look like he'd picked this spot on purpose and was only sitting her because he wanted to, not because the ticket had picked the spot for him.

Knowing that, part of him wondered why V insisted on sticking around.

After they'd reached their respective seats, Vergil had returned his son's bag to him, taking the opportunity afforded by their swift departure and subsequent lack of light from the tunnel to slip something out of his own bag without V noticing. The eldest Son of Sparda was relatively sure he had a foolproof way of breaking the ice with his decidedly silent offspring. He'd just didn't think he'd have to utilize it so early in the trip.

With V's attention slowly drifting back towards the window and away from the events unfolding inside of the train, Vergil slowly sat up straight and leaned over the table. V glanced over at him quietly, carefully concealing how perturbed he was by his father's sudden closeness. Without speaking a word or breaking the hard won fleeting eye contact that he'd managed to garner from his child, Vergil reached down onto the seat next to himself and procured a familiar bound tome. He placed it face down on the table, a soft thud sounding off as the cover made contact with the table's laminate top. Vergil slid it half way across the table but didn't remove his hand. Judging by the slow blink and accompanying barely audible exhale that V released from his lungs, he was ecstatic to see his treasured book again. And it couldn't have happened at a better time considering how little there was to do on the ride to the oceanfront.

"... I believe you dropped this…" Vergil didn't follow up on his statement. He instead waited quietly for V to respond in some way. Considering the part that the book had played in his resurrection, and the fact that he'd carried it around with him during the events of the Redgrave City calamity, Vergil had rightfully ended up concluding that his oldest son held a great deal of love for the tome. If only he knew…

V reached towards the book and then slowly withdrew his hand, instead choosing to place his hand down on the table next to it. A part of him simply couldn't believe that it had survived yet again. The last time he'd seen his favorite collection of poems, it had been tucked away on his person where it belonged. He'd recalled a few choice words just before his untimely demise, reciting a choice fraze that he'd saved for just such an occasion.

"While thy branches mix with mine, and our roots together join."

"...I thought I'd lost this forever…" V stopped for a moment, suddenly overcome with a level of emotion he didn't really understand how to process. While some might think it foolish to place such a high amount of importance on such a small, ordinary item, the book had been a great comfort and an unwavering friend during some of the most difficult parts of his young life. To have it returned to him was… liberating. "I... don't think I have a way of properly thanking you for returning this to me..."

Vergil leaned back in his seat, shifting slightly. Now they were getting somewhere. Vergil glanced out of the window for a moment. him brain taking a second to process what he wished to communicate. To say that it was difficult for him to say things in a manner that didn't make him come off as completely unapproachable was an understatement. But in the case of his two sons, he was trying to improve that aspect of his personality. Even if only a little.

"You can start by explaining how it came to be in your possession in the first place. After all, the book was originally mine," Vergil said cooly, giving V an almost inquisitive look. The young white haired summoner balanced slightly, letting out a long sigh that spoke volumes. Vergil already knew the answer, but his reaction spoke volumes.

V slouched slightly, glancing around him as if he were uncomfortable divulging his secrets with the rest of the train in earshot. He leaned in slightly, trying to get closer but not come off as suspicious.

"I have a feeling you already know what I'm going to say," He said almost breathlessly. He suddenly looked almost physically ill, the ideal of talking about such a sensitive subject twisting his stomach into knots. He could practically feel his blood pressure rise just contemplating the conversation ahead of them. "But if you wish to discuss that then privacy is paramount. Could this wait until we reach the station?"

Vergil nodded, now feeling much the same way that V did. He knew that they were going to have to have this conversation sooner or later, but that didn't make things any less uncomfortable. These sorts of conversations were always tense and fraught with painful baggage. As much as Vergil would've loved to dodge this topic for the rest of his life, he had to own up to his mistakes at some point, and the gravity of that fact was slowly starting to weigh on him. There was nothing he could do about it. He'd avoided it as long as he could, but it had caught up with him nonetheless. The day had finally come.

Like it or not, it was time they talked about V's mother.

And he didn't like it. Not one tiny little bit.

(-~-)

OH BOY THE BEACH ARC IS GONNA BE WILD. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Take care out there, stay safe, and I can't wait to see you all again very soon! See you in the comment section!

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courtorderedcake · 5 years

Text

Hallow : ch x - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.” This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery. Written for @cssns

Ch 10 / ?? - In which something lurks underneath the surface

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Killian rowed them ashore, where they were greeted by Lilly and a small group of curious onlookers. A tall man with a shock of dark red hair and dark skin watched them with an expression of amusement on his face that made Emma bristle at first, but as he watched them, she sensed a great sense of actual levity in the man's genuine smile. Another stood stoic, having the same facial features as the first man, though they were not softened by laugh lines or any sort of emotion. He had a lighter skin tone, and his olive green colored hair cut in a blunted angular style complete with thick fringe blowing in the sandy breeze.

"Welcome, finally. I forget how slow it is when you are unable to fly," Lilly greeted. The Dragon princess approached, hooking her elbow with Emma's which made her flinch, as she tried to swallow the look of surprise. "While I'm not sorry for earlier, I do believe that you will be my friend and forget our meeting’s misunderstandings."

"I - Yes, that could be a possibility," Emma said, her smile unconvincing.

"To be clear, you were the one with all of the misunderstandings, and your culture’s proclivity of lying for comfort is the problem I speak of. Even now you are tense, and your annoyance with me smells like…" Lilly sniffed, grinning at Emma's face pinching into frustration. "Apple blossoms."

"Well I never -" Emma tried to pull away, but Lilly held fast, giggling. The red haired dragon laughed as well, and Killian smirked as Emma looked at him with clear disdain.

"Lilly, who are your compatriots? Will the king and queen be receiving us?" Killian asked, and the woman blinked, smacking a hand to her forehead with a groan.

"Fiore above, I am an idiot." Gesturing with her thumb she pointed at the red headed dragon. "This is my parents’ advisor, and my potential betrothed, Mushu."

"Hello, and welcome to our personal piece of nothingness." His voice was a deep bellow, but full of humor. He put a hand on the olive haired man's shoulder, who did not break the icy stare he had focused on Emma. "My clutch mate, Haku. Our Harvest Festival begins, you must come." Waving his hand in a come hither motion, Lilly followed, practically dragging Emma into the courtyard where decorations were being placed on tall poles, and harvest vegetables littered available space. Cut branches and twine were tied to make a canopy that dripped fire colored leaves onto them as they walked.

"My parents will receive you tonight at the Harvest Festival. They are currently making the Kitsune leaders aware of your arrival."

Haku did not take his steely eyes off of Emma, and she noted it with unease.

The other inhabitants of the island seemed sparse, and almost serf like, bowing and averting their eyes when Lilly passed as the Dragon princess showed Emma around. There seemed to be very few dragons actually on the island; the few Lilly pointed out either in their dragon form or ordering about the other Fae that lived there. Emma could not sense what type of Fae the others were, but their magic was different than any she had encountered in the United Realms or as she had made her way here in the Old World. It seemed to pull from the very air itself as opposed to the Dragon's quite literally 'rooted' earth mastery.

Lilly pointed out a cave that belonged to her brother, Elliot, who loved gems and was an expert on stones of all kinds, and introduced them to Tzalu and Tiamat, both gorgeous and raven haired dragons. They were aloof, but disdainfully polite, as they talked briefly about their skills in cooking for the village. They tended to a blacksmith and the kitchen with ease, fire breathing and ease of handle scorching earth, pleating and folding newly made metals in shapes like that of the paper animals they favored. Tiamat demonstrated with a small silver crane, folding a thick sheet of silver heated to the color of the golden leaves gracing their trees. While Emma was still tense and prickly by the end of the introductions, Lilly and she were openly bickering now, with Mushu adding flame to the fire. Emma seemed to be warming up to the other princess after all.

"So," Emma said, apple in her hand as they sat in the island's orchard. "I'm done with your cryptic nonsense. What the hell happened to make the Dragons end up here, and what does it have to do with my Mom and Regina of all people?"

Lilly groaned, flopping back, but the other two dragons tensed. For the first time in their meeting, Haku looked away from Emma to Lilly, a glint of something in his eyes.

"Alright, alright," Lilly grunted, stretching her arms and sitting back up. "Fine. You win. I'll tell you."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Yeah well, don't thank me yet," Lilly grumbled. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then began to speak.

"In the old days, we Dragons still weren't exactly plentiful, and we were especially not as plentiful as Fae. We take centuries to lay one egg, usually all at one time as a group thing like flocks of birds, and that's pretty much it for us offspring wise, mostly because gestation for the damn egg - which is giant by the way - has to be as a dragon past a certain point. Then, you have to nest around the egg, also as a dragon, and keep it at the proper temperature and make sure the angle it is laying is correct - "

"I don't think they need a lesson on how we breed and raise our young," Mushu interrupted, shaking his head.

"Alright well, anyway. It's an annoying process for everyone involved. We're rare, okay? So a war breaks out between all of you, and we decline to fight along with another rarity - the Kitsune. I'm sure you saw them around. We share this place with them."

Killian looked up in surprise.

"Kitsune?" Emma asked, and looked at Killian for answers. He nodded, clearing his throat. Even with her knowledge of the many types of Fae and magical creatures, she had not been aware of the Kitsune surviving, or if they had been more than myth.

"Fox spirits. Cousins of the Anisapi, but far more elemental and Fae than animal. Powerful, dangerous, and wily creatures. I don't even know what their gifts are magic wise, I've only heard rumors," Killian answered quietly.

"Yeah, well, they're not all that special," Lilly grumbled, rolling her eyes. "They're more Fae then elemental, mostly using spells of fog, mist, and smoke. Parlor tricks, sleight of hand, and making their illusions are all they're good for, besides their fancy talking like you and your people." Lilly directed a pointed look at Emma, who was scraping off dirt from her shift. Emma blushed, but said nothing.

"The war was looming, but when you live as long as we do, or as long as my parents and their parents, and my aunts and uncles have, taking sides in fleeting disputes isn't important. So we didn't, at least at first. Then the Goblins poisoned us with nightshade. Only a clutch of eggs and my parents survived, and only because of three things: Regina Mills, me, and the Dark One.

"The Dark One was told to poison the Dragons and he did, but he poisoned the water supply with just enough to kill slowly, which gave the adults time. The Fae say it was due to him craving suffering, we believe it was a small mercy."

Killian said nothing, his face impassive.

"My parents were trying to have me, and were otherwise occupied. It was painful, but the Mills' clan and the Equi clan who were sworn to us came at our call, easing the burden with their potions and magic. They were both renowned healing families who we traded our scales and whatever ingredients they needed to; sort of a symbiotic relationship, like those birds who clean the teeth of predators. That's where Regina comes in to the picture, she's of the Mills' clan.

"The Elder Dragon called a meeting, and while the Goblin menace was a terror, the Fae that had allowed us to die for their war and their consequences were named foe too. We would fight for ourselves, and my parents swore themselves to battle until they were bones bleaching in the sun.

"Except they lied. My mother's closest confidante and handmaid from the Mills clan happened to be the aforementioned Regina, who discovering that my mother was pregnant with me. Regina begged in secret for another way, and she hated your mother more than anything for stripping her family of titles and lands when she gained her house, but no one would listen. They were too sick and angry, too hungry for revenge. The Elder Dragon called on the Kitsune, our family intertwined by similarities and our indigenous lands, and their leaders Cruella and Isaac, came here happily to join us. Cruella hated your mother too, and believed she deserved more than her station. She had tried to climb in social standing, but could never reach far enough for her standards.

"Regina tried to convince my mother, the Kitsune, and the clans not to fight but they put on their armor despite her pleas. There was a battle at the cliffs near the Baelfire Barony, after the naval massacre by the hand of the Dark One. Daniel, Regina's betrothed, was killed in the battle by a Goblin horde. Many others died too, my father narrowly escaping death. After that, Regina begged for those left to disappear from a world where no one wanted them. My Mom refused, as did Cruella."

"Regina went to Queen Snow, and swore herself to her in exchange for giving up this island's location, our nesting grounds. Together, Snow and Regina created a barrier that keeps us exiled here against our wishes."

Emma laid her head in her hands, and Killian watched as her fingers massaged her temples. "I had no idea. No idea about so much of this, so much of what happened. I feel like I am running blind - do I apologize to your mother? I didn't do this, and it's been so long, maybe I can help break through -" she gritted out.

"Why would you possibly do that?" Haku hissed at her, his voice cold and clipped. "There is no gain for you. You all left us here as a warning. It was successful, the world has moved on. Releasing us to a world of mortals when we are so few is simply a slower slaughter."

Emma looked at Killian, the anger in her eyes burning behind threatening tears. To her surprise, he licked his lips and began to speak.

"Things are changing again. The world is never going to return to where it was, but the Fae still left are wanting change," Killian said evenly, and her lips curved up into a small smile. "Princess Emma wants change, which is why she freed Ursula, brought Pann to justice, and it's why she refuses the Goblin Prince in his proposal -"

Haku snorted, rising to his feet. "Things haven't changed at all then. You Fae still cry that the world is changing while you ignore your own history, choosing what is recorded and what will be remembered by those alive to tell. You deserve your fall from the sun, the wax on your wings scalding. Some Dark One you are. I did not expect a doting sycophant who would recite sonnets for his royal tart." In a blur of white and green, the Dragon ripped through the canopy, apples falling and bouncing off of them as he rose.

"Ah. The oldest of the clutch speaks," Lilly sighed. "That was harsh even by our standards, but that's Haku for you."

"So, uh, how about we show you that library?" Mushu said with a clap, the tension thick as another apple rolled off of Emma's head. She looked directly at Killian who wore a look of grim resolve, the thought of creating any sort of alliance dimming by the moment.

As they started walking out of the orchard, Killian intertwined his fingers with her own, giving them a squeeze. Emma looked up at him surprised, and he bent to whisper.

"We'll win them over yet, Swan. It will be alright."

He squeezed again, then moved to talk to Mushu who was leading them and talking about the library’s many treasures. Lilly fell back, taking his place.

"You guys are cute," Lilly whispered with a laugh. "And he's much better looking than our legends describe. I expected the maw of a crocodile and for him to trail blood from his wet clothes, his eyes as dark as charcoal."

Emma blanched, looking at Lilly with confusion. "No, he's not - I mean the Darkness doesn't have control, or full control really, of him without the Vorpal Dagger. He doesn't - he didn't enjoy doing those things, Lilly. He's not a monster, he doesn't relish in blood." She paused, casting a sideways glance towards Killian. "And, we are barely allies. Our friendship, if you can call it that, is very new."

"Wow," Lilly giggled, hand covering her mouth. "You are so stupid."

"Excuse me?" Emma rounded on Lilly, her eyebrows both raised while she smiled with all her teeth, angry while full of disbelief at her bluntness. "I am not -"

"No, that's not what I mean. You are intelligent with books and whatever else, but you are so dense. I can literally smell the pining on you. It's gross, frankly." Lilly made a gagging motion.

"If you are always glib and blunt, you don't have to use 'frankly' before you speak." Emma sniffed, sending Lilly further into giggles.

"I'm desperate for courtly intrigue, Princess. Tell me, have you wrote him love letters you instead burned? Have you pressed a piece of clothing of his to your face, just to feel closer? Have you kissed him and then both pretended it didn't happen?"

Emma's cheeks went blindingly hot, and she began to walk quicker, looking down at her dirty slippers. Lilly grabbed her elbow, holding her back, grinning like a she demon.

"You did, you sly fox! I can smell it, you kissed him! Tell me everything -"

"There is nothing to tell. I was drunk. We had just cheated death, and I had a potion in my system that made me silly and drunk. An accident," Emma hissed lowly. A large ornate building was quickly coming into view.

"But you both sleep together, and you cling to him like a little duckling, right in his shadow. Or cygnet in your case."

"How did you know tha -" Emma snapped. There was no way anyone could have spied on them, or have seen without them knowing how they rested together. Even Killian wasn't aware of how she laid awake in between fits of restlessness and nightmares, watching his peaceful sleep or listening to him remembering his lost love. The Darkness occasionally pushed through, and Emma had found gently tracing his tensed muscles would soothe it away. He had never woken up to see her, but if he did, she planned to play it off as a strange dream.

"I can smell you both all over each other, and I know that the two of you have never actually done anything serious. You both are too clumsy around each other, and the idea of a kiss between you two sent you into a nosedive." Lilly shrugged.

"Please, stop smelling me," Emma managed to grit out as she massaged her temples, unable to form any other reply. Lilly let out a laugh, arm linked in her own again as the library loomed before them.

"You know, I don't think you're going to believe me, at least for now," Lilly whispered into her ear as Mushu and Killian stepped inside the large doors. "But now I definitely know that you and I are going to be great friends."

Lilly laughed at Emma's grimace all the way through the doors.

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The library was like nothing he had ever seen. The college at the Naval Academy for the Fae had an expansive collection of books, and from Emma's descriptions of the palace library, it seemed that the several floors of books in front of them may even rival that. Killian glanced at Emma, her face was still slightly pink - no doubt from Lilly teasing her - but her verdant green eyes were wide as her lips parted in awe.

"This is our library, and collection of rare books. Or, as you Fae so kindly called it in the past, our 'hoard'," Mushu said with a flourished hand. "You are free to read at your leisure, Dark One."

With a slight bow, Mushu excused himself. Lilly smiled impishly and whispered something into Emma's ear before bounding off herself, Emma sighing with deep relief when the Dragons were both gone.

"Well," Killian stated, and Emma groaned as she laid her body over a desk with a thunk.

"This, this is a lot," Emma replied, muffled by the table. After a moment, she gathered herself and stood, truly taking in the splendor of the place. "This place is stunning, wow. There are so many books. Are those inlaid with jewels or -"

Killian looked up, from running his fingers down the spine of a book. "I know, it's wonderful. I could live here, just reading everything." He shot a glance down the stairs to the atrium where she stood.

"I thought you always had to keep moving on, unable to sit still?" Emma teased, but he could not help but answer seriously, the ornate details on every binding, the amount of unknown informatiom lost to time and war, and the full amount of the potential knowledge the books contained too much to dismiss with anything but awe.

"This is perfection." Running a finger along another binding, he practically purred in satisfaction. "This place or somewhere similar, the ocean, and air. This sort of library, a fireplace, a good reading chair, and every night spent sipping a buttered rum while watching the stars, seeking new truths from the pages. That is all I need, for eternity." Emma hummed, turning the page of a huge tome laid out on another table. After a moment she chuckled lightly.

"So, a boat full of books, but on land." Emma stated bluntly.

"When you put it like that, sure love," he answered, with her same sarcasm.

She stepped closer, looking up to where he stood. "I might visit someplace like that. I like rustic."

"Rustic eh? Not up to snuff for the magnanimous and beauteous princess?"

Emma shrugged. "It depends on how good the rum is." She replied sarcastically. "Read your books, I am getting fitted for some sort of Dragon style outfit because I'm currently 'unacceptable' per Lilly and her mother. I'll see you at dinner?"

"Aye." He nodded, pulling a book from the shelf.

"Don't forget, Elliot is some rock expert, or stones, gems - go see him with the locket. He's in that cave a bit back on the path," she called as she left, turning to give him a wave and a genuine smile. After watching her steeling herself all day, it was surprising that she would waste it on him, but familiarity seemed to win out more often than not as time went on. It was the only thing that the princess had left to hang on to, and that was important in the chaos that threatened her. If he was going to play protector and avoid Nil and Gold's clutches, keeping her in the best state of mind was a preventative measure in his view.

Piling more books onto a desk, he opened to read anything he could about the history of the Darkness. He found bits about disasters or tragedies that sounded like the Darkness or a Dark One's doing: castles falling in the dead of night as a sorceress laid siege, a curse whisking away an entire treasury and depositing it in a thieves den, a plague that ate away at cattle and crops unless the farmers surrendered to a new lord cloaked in shadow, all ending in the same way - a weapon controlling them was found, and either destroyed by a great amount of light magic, was used to mollify the creature, or was used to kill them. The weapon was specific in its making.

The Fiendish Darkness can be bound to an object, usually a hammer, sword, or dagger for ceremony. Regardless of the form, it must be smelted silver stolen from the ferryman for the dead, steel bent by liquid flame that ripples the very metal, diamonds cursed by avarice, and children's teeth, lost by plucking.

In an ancient grimoire of a Warlock, Killian found reference to summoning the Darkness into the world, chills racing up his spine as he remembered that night, the storm beating down on him.

When summoning, the loudest call for vengeance will be acknowledged and served a deal to ask for entry. These deals vary, and will be unique to the darkest desires of revenge that attracted the Darkness initially. Once a vessel is chosen, the Dagger will bind the Darkness and its host together until they are killed by the binding weapon.

He had been full of rage that night, vengeance and trying to kill the Goblin King the only thing on his mind as he raced upwards and cut down any foe in his path. His own anger must have been more enticing than the King's, and his malleability or naivety had an allure that it couldn't pass up. There were times, long periods of sitting in that cell in the dark as it crawled through his mind that he wondered what it would be like if he hadn't slipped, hadn't lost precious time getting to his intended victim, if he would have died instead of living out the life of a slave to the book's described evil.

By the time he had found the small journal inlaid with onyx and silver, it was well into late afternoon. At first Killian thought the handwritten book was a waste of time, the scribbled words barely decipherable and the drawn charts or graphs not anything he could understand. He flipped through the pages, exasperated, until a drawing caught his eye: a rudimentary form of the Dagger next to various other examples of what must have been binding objects, and a passage on the page next to it.

There may be ways to force the Darkness into another host, but the attempts I have tried ended in failure. The Darkness seems to be affected most by light magic, and love, specifically True Love. In the case of the first queen of the Fae, Titania, her True Love for her cursed child, Puck, drove the Darkness away for some time. In retaliation, Puck killed Titania to prevent her from stunting the Darkness again, claiming the throne for himself until he was killed with the cursed object by the unnamed vessel who succeeded him. Centuries later, Eisolfe the Wise broke said object and light magic built the grand forests for years.

I have tried True Love’s Kiss on my darling Nimue, but she not only resisted, but made clear of her underlying intentions regarding our romance. This True Love was one sided, to my deepest regret. I have used a great amount of magic to seal her into the blade that controlled her, and broken it to assure that the Darkness in it has gone back to where it belongs. Nimue will rest, my love for her freeing her from the tethering - so, it was not all a waste. My heart breaks, and I cannot stand to stay in the shelter of Camelot any longer. I have accepted a request from the sisters of King Triton: henceforth I, Merlin, will be teaching the sisters of the sea esoteric magics.

I regret only that I could not study the Darkness further, at King Arthur and the King of the Goblin's bidding, but we part as amicably as one can in these times. No one currently knows if another Dark One exists, or remains.

Killian felt like he had been crushed, his lungs unable to take in air. Merlin. The pages after the passage were mostly spells and potions involving sea creatures and earth elemental magic, Merlin learning about his new world and teaching it to his students. When Killian turned the page to see a drawing of a nude mermaid, he shut the journal with force, not wanting to see anymore of what appeared to be a rendering of Ursula. Closing his eyes and trying to erase the image, he stood and stretched. Maybe that was enough reading for the day.

Walking down the path, he missed the cave initially, the barely trodden path to it overgrown. The cave's mouth was large and wide, the slope down steep as he slid and pebbles tumbled by his feet.

There seemed to be nothing, a great mossy wall and not much more. He wondered if he had missed the dragon.

"Hello?"

It echoed around the cave, until silence fell again. Killian went to turn back to the mouth of the cave, when a gust of air hit his back. He whipped around and watched the mossy wall shift, a pair of bright yellow eyes regarded him with curiosity.

"Lilly said you might come," the Dragon, Elliot, said. The mossy fur that covered him completely fell in front of his face, and he shook his head slightly. "I'm Elliot. Don't like to look like you Fae or Humans or Kitsune. I don't like being small. I don’t like not being able to hide."

"No judgement here, mate." Killian shrugged, the Dragon's voice sounding much younger than Lilly's, as if he was a scribe or squire of a boy. "I, er, I came to ask you about this stone in the back of this locket."

He held the locket in his outstretched palm, and Elliot approached with trepidation. He was huge, far bigger than Killian had initially thought. What he had initially perceived as wall was Elliot's body; it spread further into the cave as the Dragon moved. Killian focused on the locket instead, the Dragon's claws clicking on the stone floor. The Iron of Nil's attack had bent the silver, indented it slightly, the metal bending to release a small feather, and locks of hair inside along with the dull, perfectly smooth, milky colored oval of amber that had first caught his attention. The Dragon eyed it with a sudden hunger.

"You have an Emberamber? Those are incredibly rare, if their clarity is -" With his face inches away from Killian’s palm, Elliot squinted. He made an indignant noise, frustrated. "That one's clarity is shot. Someone's used it almost completely up. Oh well, I hope they used it for something worthwhile."

"What are you talking about?" Killian questioned, confused. The Dragon rolled his eyes.

"So that is an Emberamber. They're used as, like, gem containers for magic or elements and what not. The Remel kind are really rare. They can hold memories and emotions, so that you can see them. You just need a fire and it'll make smoke; it's neat if you want to remember something, unload memories, or record history in real time. Since we're probably the last Dragons, it'd be nice to have one, but yours is all full. See?" Elliot extended a talon, pointing to the milky white swirls in the caramel colored stone. "An unused one looks like topaz or regular amber that you find bugs and things stuck in; you can see almost all the way through it."

"So this, this is full of memories?"

"I dunno," Elliot shrugged his massive shoulders. "You gotta throw it in a fire. This one's teeny, old, and really used up though, so it'll probably break after a few uses."

"How do I use it? Can I use it now?" Killian asked, pulling the stone carefully from the back of the locket. When it came free, he was surprised to see the etching on the back, a scratched etching of his name.

'For Killian'

"No. Use it out there. There’s a fire pit near where the pine trees start down the hill. I don't want to smell your smoke." Elliot sniffed, the air sending Killian’s hair askew. "I have sensitive nostrils."

"Right. Well, I'll be off then. Thank you for your time." Killian gave a small bow, and Elliot grunted.

"Come back if you find something worth my attention," the Dragon grumbled, slumping down and shaking the entire cave as he blended back into the darkness.

Killian rushed down the path, finding the fire pit easily in a small grove of pine trees. It was easy enough to conjure flame, and a pile of logs lay nearby for use. Throwing them in the pit, he stoked a steady blaze, and threw in the emberamber.

At first, nothing happened and Killian felt his rage at being tricked start to heat like the fire before him, until in the shimmering smoke of the fire, Milah appeared as if he was watching her through a looking glass. She was faded slightly, as if the color had been pulled from the image and replaced with shades of gray, but her eyes were the same brown, and she looked at him as if she was seeing him -

"Killian," Milah began, seated gently before him with her hands folded on her satin gown, and he choked out a noise. "I don't know if you will ever see this, or if we will ever meet again. I was given this stone today by a gentle medicine woman. She helped me… She makes me my…" Milah trailed off, swallowing hard. "That's not important right now, actually. I'll - I'll come back to Agakktha later. It's been six months, and so much has changed. I heard what you've done, what you did to the fleet, and Rumple is livid about your capture. I guess a new king and queen have been crowned, and that you are… You are gone. No one knows where you are, and although I prayed for you to one day find me, well my heart? I don't any longer."

"I know that isn't what you want me to say, or what you want to hear, but darling I - I know you wouldn't even care, but I can't face myself right now, let alone you."

"The Goblin King, he is - Well, he is frankly a coward, and the worst kind of coward at that. He runs from battle, he cowers, he seeks strength without stop, he pushes others to the front to save his hide - And he hates that I will never stop reminding him of that. I am some puzzling prize that he hoards like the Goblin he is, seeking my favor. At first I resisted and fought, but I have had moments of weakness too."

"You would tell me that it is not my fault, you would know what to say because you always do and always have, but nothing can absolve me of my shame when I tell you of my aching need to forget you in any way I could. I fell into spirits, luxe wines made from fruit that only grows in the absence of light. My misery was replaced along with my grief, anger, and common sense."

"I made a terrible mistake, my love. I can say that while I was not forced into this situation on my own, my free will here is most definitely limited. What I wanted was companionship in this darkness, in this loneliness. What I got in its stead was…"

"Agakktha makes me my beauty regimen, and two other traditional draughts the king's wife must drink. One for the beginning of the month, and one for the end. The first helps keep me healthy, and keep my body in good condition." Her face soured, her mouth in a tight line. "The second is a test to see if an heir is to be expected. I… Killian I'm… I'm - I can't do this."

She disappeared, appearing again in a different dress, her hair braided in a much more complex style. Where she had previously looked gaunt, here she had put on a healthy amount of weight, a glow surrounding her. She looked happier, her hands folded on top of her --- Killian froze, letting the realization wash over him.

"Rumple thinks my heartache is because the child isn't yours." Milah rubbed her swollen stomach, gently stroking where it moved and shifted shape. "At first, that was true, but time has been a gentle mistress. No, now I don't mourn for our possible children, or mourn this one. My heart aches because with each move, and kick, I love him more. It's a him, Killian. I'm having a son, and I am so happy. I miss you, I miss you so much and I will always love you, but how do I even explain this love? It's all encompassing. I love him with every part of me, and I haven't even seen him." Milah smiled, happiness alight on her features. She looked down for a moment, still tracing patterns on the silk over her belly. Her face fell, and she looked up back into the gem’s view. "The amount of tradition here is ridiculous, and I thought the Fae court was bad. At least while our society is gendered, we raise our children in families. To think I complained on more than one occasion about how strict it was for you and I to be chaperoned. Because of the law, Rumple will name him. That is not only a royal duty, but that of the male's duty."

Milah gave a disgusted eye roll, continuing. "He's chosen the name Nil, but I will forever call my baby boy Baelfire after my father, and our house. Maybe one day a child of House Baelfire and a Lordling of the Blackwater will play together. The thought brings me peace."

She appeared again, tiredness unable to cover her happiness at the babe wiggling in her arms. Bird feathers covered a good portion of one chubby arm, but his shock of dark brown curls and one brilliant brown iris matched her own exactly.

"Isn't he perfect? Rumple won't hold him, and the longing for you today has been unbearable after so much time without thinking about us. Is that horrible to say? Probably. I find myself so absorbed in other things that were once used as distraction and exhaustion from Baelfire, that giving thought to you as we were has fallen to the wayside. Time is not the only corrupter as they say. More often I wonder about your descent into madness and the Darkness, if you think about me, or if you will in your stubbornness never take another chance at love. Please, consider it. You would make a spectacular father, and have so much love to give another. I beg you, consider it, for my sake. Be happy. That is what I imagined for us, and what I try to imagine in any way possible now.”

Her next appearance was with the babe, now a toddler jumping in the background with snorted laughs. Milah caught him, tickling him while they both grinned identical grins, unable to stop their giggles.

"Baelfire my sweet, say hello."

"Hellwhoa."

"Good job baby! You're so smart. I love you so much, Baelfire."

Milah paced in her next appearance, sitting down to face him with a sheen of sweat on her face, hair gone gray and a gray pallor in her skin. She adjusted herself in the seat with a slight wince.

"Killian, I know you will look for me until the end of time if you still live as my own and not what it is they whisper you've become - but I need you to know that I am happy, that I found peace in knowing that my son can be better… These old laws that only benefit the few, the fervent sycophants that think they might be rewarded if they believe enough in strong blood; this abuse of women of all species but especially Goblin women who are made to be the lowest status as a birth gift - I was terrified of bearing a girl, for no matter how monstrous, how can a mother bear the cruelty of having a child they wanted ripped from them for another to raise, all because of this fanaticism? I have begged for women to keep their children longer before they are taken to their gendered groups - How could I watch my daughter growing up to be taught to be quiet, stay out of the way, follow orders, and that her worth is that of nothing?" Milah coughed, hacking as she reached for a handkerchief. Bringing it to her mouth, she coughed for minutes more. When she was done, her face was clammy, and her breathing was shallow. She pulled herself up, laying a red and bluish-tan stained handkerchief aside. "There is no strong blood, there are only strong beings, strong mothers and fathers, children, and familiar ties that weave us all together. I will not let my Baelfire be afraid in the time I have left." He felt his heart drop, looking at her tired face.

"I have Lichen Lung. Do not blame yourself for this, Killian. I caught this as a child, playing in the bog by the House Baelfire's old estuary. It was always going to claim me, and they've made me very comfortable. I've lived far longer than I would have up there, or if we had... I've lived well here within reason. The fungus loves this damp and dark, and the Healers here specialize in fungal infection. They have the best remedies for this disease, and have eased so much of my pain. I wish I could assure you that as you live on it's alright to be without me." She stroked a finger over the heart tattoo that rested on her shoulder, a clear view of it beating under her pale skin as she turned.

"I want you to. I want you to be happy, to find joy in sunsets, to swim in the ocean without me, knowing that our life was worth everything. Every second that I was with you makes me more determined to stay alive, to raise Baelfire to be like you. I want you to love, Killian, to consider another person capable of forgiving you, of absolving you of the thoughts you've built up, of guilt and shame. I want you to consider loving them, of being open to the idea that maybe in our lives there is room for more than one love of a lifetime. I want you to have a family again, so you can know just how much that is true. I want you to let me go, but know I'm close, and wishing you a wonderful life."

She appeared again, rail thin and gaunt, propped up in a bed. A teenage Goblin boy, very clearly a young Nil, sat at her side."I don't think I'll last the day, my heart."

"Mother, it's alright." He held her hands, folding them gently on her lap. "Let me read to you, just relax."

"How did I end up with such a wonderful son?" Milah sighed. "You were at the part about the Heart of all the Realms, the stories?"

"Yes. So, the Doctor and his wife theorized that there were realms they could open with magic, and that there could be infinite numbers of them. They may even be merged or created with powerful enough magicks, and be held in stasis against each other, meaning that they would have their own linear sequence of time. It was all hypothetical until they made one on accident. They experimented more, and found that different planes could be reached via portals or use of magic. These were used to create the first realms, that soon came to be known as the United Realms. They were the largest, most stable, laden with resources, and easiest to create travel through of the realms being found. This discovery gained the Doctor a title and great renown. The Whitehart family still stands to date as the only and last house created before the war.

The Whitehart family attempted dividing the portals by population, believing that eventually each species could be individually placed in one of the infinite realms. Space no longer became an issue, warring factions eased their battles to journey to a new world made for them.

It was great news until rumors drifted of realms no longer being reachable. Just like the stars in the sky are always remaking themselves, realms are too; new ones being born and dying in constant motion. Black holes are the eater of stars, and The Devourer is the thing that eats realms. It lives at war with the light in the middle of every realm, all time and space, each trying to keep balance. Knowing this, the Whitehart family stopped their work, leaving only the United Realms in their wake. This was a major catalyst in the war that led to the eventual banishment of the Goblins after the Vorpal Dagger's destruction. The Whitehart family name and their solemn family creed to keep the light alive lives on with the new Queen, even after her parent's murders and the attempt on her life by the Goblin King. From commoner, to being the utmost highest position of the land, the Whitehart family name is not lost under the N'lan banners with Snow Margueryte in the crown."

"I hope that one day you meet her. I know what your father tells you, but life could be different for you. You could live above, you could change things if you just showed her the iniative. Imagine freedom, of choice - That's sounds like a grand adventure, Baelfire." Milah whispered, reaching up to tousle Nil's hair weakly. "You must go on a grand adventure some day, sweet boy of mine."

Nil scoffed, looking at her with a strained smile. "Mother, you know that's impossible. We're trapped down here, for one, but the last time the Fae let us live outside of this accursed realm the result was the utter destruction of everything we created. Secondly, the Queen isn't well known for her forgiveness - and father was steps away from killing the her as she slept under that curse. You know why Father chose you, and why if I'm ever to marry, I owe it to our ancestors to - "

"You don't have to follow the laws writ by vengeance's call. You don't have to follow in your father's footsteps, you can choose a partner that you love -"

"Mother. After what was done to us, my people demand penance. It's why the Elves, Pixies, and Anisapi still send tithes of women at our behest, defying their own King and Queen. Even they know that what was done to us and what their beloved Monarchy tries to keep hidden will not win them favor when we return." Nil pinched the bridge of his nose, and Milah sniffled quietly. "Don't cry, mother. Please. We've been through this, you said that you understood."

"I understand why you think that you have to, but I promise you that love is worth far more than vengeance ever will be. You will wake up to a crying bride, a cold bed, and children that don't understand why their parents hate each other. I want more for you, Baelfire. I beg you to please - "

"You truly hate father?" Nil asked, quietly.

"I do not love him, but the hate I had has grown dull over the years. I had love with another, so I know what it is to feel it. What your father has given me, even after your blessed birth, has never been love. I love you. You will know love, and you must never forget it."

"Love isn't worth anything when your people lie dead at your feet." A voice hissed from the darkness beyond the emberamber's view of Milah and Nil. "Come, Nil. You have lessons. Maybe your mother can join you for your history recitation, as she forgets her people's responsibility in the making of our laws."

"Get out of my bed chamber." Milah hissed, closing her eyes. Nil stood, kissing her on the forehead, and left with his father.

The view changed. Now alone, it was dark in her chamber as she faced him, straining to speak.

"I must confess to you my greatest secret, and let you know that it is not a regret. I have loved another, my son, and felt something for his Father on rare occasions. This led me to do what I had to do, and you must understand, you must try to understand. You are imprisoned, or were; if you ever do see this or it is transcribed for you: the decision was mine, Rumple's, and King David's. Oh, Killian. Life is a bitter root to chew when there is nothing else. David offered the women here - the women stolen - our freedom in exchange for letting the Goblins free again.

I was so very pregnant, and the women voted, we voted to stay. There was no longer a life we could live away from our children, our families, or we would simply could not survive put back somewhere. The threat of the Goblin reckoning was also too great; we were nothing but a bargaining chip to create more war - Rumple's face when he heard our no vote was a snarling hateful thing. Seeing that, I know the decision made was the right one. David agreed - they were having a child too - and Queen Snow kissed me on both cheeks, but Rumple would not let me say goodbye to you. I left knowing that you were somewhere below my feet, waiting, and I had burned that bridge for the sake of my child and the realms."

"Please, forgive me. I fear that Rumple's patience has been stretched too thin. I fear that he is the one who made me much more ill, just for spite. I fear that my son who watches me die as this spreads through my heart and lungs will never know freedom or love or light when I am gone."

"Please be an example of what I take from this world with me; please love someone just as much as you loved me. Don't let the Darkness in you win, don't let it eclipse you and everything you are. You are always and forever will be, my Killian Jones. Please don't let that be taken too. I love you, I love you, I will forever love you."

The fire dimmed low, the smoke trickling back into the jewel. There were hot tears on his face, the stone burning his palm with its own intense heat as he pulled it from the fire, squeezing it tightly. Stumbling to get up, he slumped by a pine tree, letting the force of his sadness take him.

Walking for what felt like hours, he finally arrived back in the village. Emma approached him with two bowls of something that steamed, her face falling to concern when she came closer. She was dressed in a simple blue dress, similar to the fashion the common human folk had worn in their villages when he lived at the Blackwater. He ducked back into the shadows, but she pursued until he realized that it was futile, letting her catch up just outside of the village. Under the falling leaves they sat for a few minutes, before Emma turned to study his profile. After a moment, she asked a question.

"Are you hurt?"

Killian swallowed hard. "Not exactly. No."

"Come here," she whispered quietly, and for once he did, falling into her and laying there against her chest as she lowered them to the ground. She soothed gently and slowly, running her hands over his shaking shoulders.

Once he had calmed down, they sat in amicable silence eating their potatoes and meat, Emma giving him a large chunk of bread. She also produced a wine skein and a large chunk of cheese, both eating for what felt like the first time in ages.

Emma broke the silence, both of them simply basking in the decadence that was hot food after having none for so long.

"I don't need to know anything about what happened, but whatever it was..." She paused and stroked hair out of his face as he laid his head against her thigh. They had become so much closer since the situation with Ursula, trust in each other hard won, personal space a non-issue when living in close proximity on the ship as it drifted. "I am sorry that it hurt you."

"Broke my heart, actually. What little of it that remains.”

Emma gave a low hum, sitting in silence as she continued to comb fingers through his hair. The calm the Darkness had fallen into since Emma and his close cohabitation finally broke, woken by his despair at Milah's revelations, the edge of its tumultuous presence creeping back into his world.

"You know," Emma began slowly, murmuring. "Your heart… If it's broken, it means that it can be fixed. That it still works. That regardless of everything, there's pieces of you that the Darkness cannot corrupt or destroy."

Pulling away from her with a jolt, the Darkness seething under his flesh, his eyes flashed a warning. Emma pulled back slightly, fear in her eyes at his reaction - he'd acted like a skittish creature, an animal prone to bite, not Emma's ally. And they were allies, were they not? Even, possibly -

No, she's not your friend, she's just another in a long line of masters that holds your leash. You are no wild animal, just a pet. You trusting her is pathetic, you disgusting, lowly, cretin. She doesn't see you as more than a tool, and you let her talk to you about your heart as if you still have one. You have a piece of coal; there's nothing left for you to feel with. You have no emotions except hate, fear, melancholy so deep -

Emma's hand met his cheek, trembling while she looked at him with defiance.

"Killian. Come back to me?" Carefully, and slowly, she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace. At first every muscle of his tensed, the Darkness letting out yowls and screeching sounds, but they faded as his tension did. His arms wrapped around her delicately and Emma beamed when she pulled away slightly.

"You shouldn't do that, Swan," Killian whispered.

"Shouldn't do what?"

Killian cleared his throat, scratching at his ear slightly. "Listen, I don't want to - If I can't control it, or I lose sight and lash out, you could get hurt and I -"

You're pathetic, you absolute worm. Look at you, cowering from the strength of your power like a child. Do you remember how small you are? Your mother died and your father left you. You killed your brother in cold blood, and all those men in ships that you burned and cracked. Don't you want to remember all that blood in the water, and the smell?

"Killian. You don't have to listen to it. It's wrong. Whatever it's saying, it's wrong -"

"Shut up, just shut up!"

Careful you good for nothing louse, don't want to hurt your pretty princess because you can't handle the truth of what you did, what you are. Remember what happened the last time you chose not to listen? We sunk to the ocean floor with Nil's iron through our chest, and before that, Elsa died because of you, because of this princess, and I warned you, didn't I?

"Open your eyes and look at me. Please. Please, you have to look at me, Killian don't let it -"

Yes, look at her. Proof of you being weak. You should have given her to Nil, but you tried to be noble . You aren't noble, you aren't good; no matter what this wench says, no matter what Milah did.

"Stop!" Emma's fingers wrapped around his mangled hand, but the noise would not stop, uncontrolled and like a cornered animal. The cackling pressed against the back of his eyes, both temples throbbing. Emma's voice was a low thrum cutting through a shrieking whine. "Please just stop, you're hurting him, stop -"

Oh, listen to her, pitying you for what you are! What you chose . Isn't it funny how your revenge has destroyed everything you ever cared about? Surely you aren't stupid enough to care about your worried little Swan?

The Darkness had laid still, a snare in a bramble, waiting for Killian to relax and to think he had a chance to control it. This was a warning; it controlled him and he was its puppet, not the other way around. The sludge-like vines wrapped tighter, roots digging deeper as it cackled without relent.

There was a flicker, and the tiniest bit of sunshine touched him. Light pushed, separating the gnarled thicket even as it fought back against Emma's concerned plea.

"Killian, come back to me. Listen to my voice."

I WILL NOT LET HIM GO, PRINCESS! WE ARE THE DARK ONE!

Everything built to a point of no return as Killian’s hand gripped Emma's too tightly.

You're scared you will hurt her, I can feel it. Yes, we will. We will hurt her, especially if she is a threat. Damn the shard and its protections. I'll eat away at them with ease. All barrier spells can be broken or corrupted, and this is just one more. I'll delight in both of your surprise when I can wrap your fingers around her neck, the Darkness knows no bounds but the dagger, I'll make you rip her apart piece by piece. Oh yes, I will weaken that silly protective charm, just you wait Dearie. I'll make you crush her heart as it beats in your hands. I'll show you how good it feels to feel the dust run through your fingertips.

The cackling stopped abruptly, and Emma's hand was yanked away from his as she sprawled backwards. The Darkness hit her with blunt force, the thud of her body hitting the ground followed by the whoosh of air leaving her in a moan.

I can hurt her easily, even now. You may have kept me at bay on that ship of yours, but now I am stronger than you. Your emotions make you weak. It won't be long until I can wound her, or break her just like I do to you. I can break her fingers one by one while she asks you 'why' -

"No!" Focusing with every bit of his concentration, Killian pushed the Darkness away, willed himself to hold it back.

Silence slowly returned to the confines of Killian’s mind, limbs falling out of their forced paralysis. Sliding over beside Emma, he frantically checked her pulse in fear, finding it fast under his fingers. Relief coursed through him. Emma's eyes fluttered open, meeting his as she flinched away from him in fear, staring at him in confusion for a moment before relaxing.

"I didn't mean to, Emma, I'm so sorry. I couldn't -"

"It's OK. You hit me good, but I blocked most of it. The tumble was what really knocked the wind out of me. We'll have to practice again in a softer space, I think."

"Practice again?" Killian scrubbed at his face, scoffing. "Absolutely not. No. It's not okay at all. I hurt you. Bloody hell I -"

"Is it like that all the time? I think I could almost hear it, that voice… it's so scared of you leaving it. It's like a wild animal. I think you can control it if we practice. It caught me off guard, but a throw isn't going to leave anything but a big bruise."

"No. I can't ask that of you, and it is getting stronger the closer the clock ticks down to Nil…" Trailing off, Emma raised her chin in defiance, standing up with his help. "No, Emma this was too close -"

Stepping forward, Emma took Killian’s hand in hers, massaging his palm. "You can't kill me and I can't kill you. I promise you that thing is trying to rattle you. I'm fine.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't control it, Emma. I swear I'll try harder -"

"Don't try. Just…" Emma chewed her lip, and took another tentative step closer. "You are now among the closest friends I've ever had, so I don't ask of you to try. Just don't hurt me. Don't let it be an option anymore. Don’t give in, especially if you believe it's getting stronger. We have to beat this. You can beat this; I know you can."

"Close friend? When did you decide that?" Killian smiled slightly, amused by the idea as the chimes rang out. Emma laughed, and rolled her eyes, standing and brushing off her dress.

"The second to last barrel of rum on the Jolly."

"You must have terrible companions."

"Shut up." Emma blushed. "I just trust you a lot more since you told me you were really going to be my ally, that's all. I can see you changing, trying to be better."

"Then…" He looked for words instead of at her, a hand raking through his hair. "Thank you."

"Whatever, you're welcome. Save me a dance tonight; Lilly says they have a wonderful fiddle player." She clapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh no, I told Lilly I'd change into some outfit - I'll be back, go on without me!" Before he could protest, she had run off towards a cave built into the cliffside that faced the ocean.

Killian wandered by himself to the square. It seemed that the entire village had gathered and were surrounded by twinkling lights, pumpkins, bushels of apples, barrels of what looked like some type of ale, cauldrons of mulled wine stirring themselves in the darkening sky, and a band setting up on the small stage.

He saw a short statured man with a receding hairline approach the stage nervously, fiddling with his bow tie, his gaze flicking around until they met Killian’s. He grinned, and Killian felt his neck hair stand, his body alert to a potential threat from some arcane magic. A hand touched his arm and he grabbed the person's arm roughly, realizing it was just Emma a second later.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"Ow! Killian!" Emma hissed, rubbing where his fingers had dug in. He seemed distracted, looking over her for something or someone before truly taking her in. When he finally saw her, Emma watched his eyes widen while his hands began to fidget. She did the little spin Lilly had suggested, the flowing garment spinning around her.

"Do you like it? Lilly says it's from last year, but that no one should notice. I've worn dresses with lace before, of course, but never anything this sheer or gauzy. It feels like I'm only wearing the night sky!"

To her surprise, Killian didn't say anything; he didn't tease, or give her a witty quip. He simply stared at her and the navy fabric that was covered in the lacy sheer stars. The dress was backless and deeply cut, but the silver and dark blue that bordered on black caught the candle light, adding gold and a true navy color into its flowing movement. It was much easier and lighter to move around in than the stiff, heavily layered gowns that her mother favored.

When Killian was silent for another moment, Emma rolled her eyes. "You're not funny you know. If you're going to act like you -"

"You look..." He breathed out in interruption, pausing to shake himself free of whatever his mind was doing, much to Emma's annoyance. "You look…"

"Nice?" Emma finished for him, hopefully. He swallowed, and she watched his neck bob, before he nodded dumbly.

"Yes, you look… you look good. Better than Pann's club and you… you look nice." He nodded and Emma burst out laughing.

"You've been drinking without me then, huh? No wonder you were so spacy. Lilly says there's some announcement and they do a ceremony, then the party begins. I'll meet you drink for drink then."

He nodded weakly, and Emma shook her head.

A man she hadn't seen before took the stage, with Lilly and her parents shuffling behind him. He stepped up on a raised platform to a carved podium.

"Hello, and welcome to another Harvest," he spoke over the crowd. Everyone clapped politely, or so she initially thought until she saw Haku standing in the shadows glaring at the stage. He looked even more furious if it was possible. "I am Isaac, the Kitsune leader for our new guests, and Isaac the best apple cider maker to the rest of you."

Whistles and cheers cam from the crowd along with laughter at his titleage, and he held out his hands for quiet. "As always, we will be announcing the Harvest Maiden tonight, letting their will be done and come tomorrow, she will be prepared for her fall slumber. This year, we had a volunteer again, so lots will not be chosen. This year our beautiful Harvest Maiden is…"

Isaac paused for dramatic effect, while a younger, dark haired woman led by a gaunt woman with a shocking black and white hairstyle was leading her onto the stage.

"Chihiro!" Isaac finished, and Emma watched as Haku swiped at his face, then slunk into the woods without a word.

The young woman stepped up on the raised platform Isaac stood on, taking a place at his side. She wore a simple white gown, Isaac producing a crown of greenery from the podium. Chihiro bowed again holding the crown on her head with a hand, looking around when she rose back up slowly. Her eyes seemed sad, but when they flickered back to her feet after searching, her face fell completely to a quiet wistfulness.

"The Harvest Festival Maiden will lead us in our dancing, choose their prince, and their fool, lead us in our feasting, and in the burning of our bad spirits. Tomorrow she will be pampered, spend time with her loved ones, and then be cleansed for her sleep."

The village cheered, and Isaac led Chihiro down from the platform, Lilly and her parents shuffling after them.

Emma turned to look at Killian, as he watched the village bowing to the girl when she stood in the center of the dance floor. Chihiro looked around again, looking for someone in the throng of the crowd before whispering to Isaac. He chuckled lightly.

"Our Maiden asks to break tradition, and to wait to announce her prince and her fool until after dancing and after the feast," he said with a grin. The crowd gasped, but he raised his hands to quiet them again. "While traditions are important, this is our Harvest Maiden! Who am I to deny such a request? Let us dance! Let us drink! Let us feast and be merry, the ceremony remains!" Isaac ended with a flourish, clapping his hands. In robes and gloves of black topped with white masks, servants brought out steaming trays of food, tankards and goblets being passed around as they were filled them with drink. Emma hadn't seen the servant class before, their shapeless uniforms and masked faces catching her off guard, but she had barely any time to think about them when the fiddle had begun, Lilly spinning her into a dance.

Emma had danced many group dances in the palace; the court was fond of them as icebreakers to allow the mingling of houses. This was not such a dance. Emma was spun and twirled rapidly, catching on to the footwork after several missteps. The women were lifted and placed to the side, their feet in a similar movement to the Elven jig, her stops for drink punctuated by Lilly pulling her back in as soon as she had gulped down what she could. Cold ale and honey mead washed away the heat of the apple whiskey and mulled wine, the dance becoming easier as the feast and the loosening of alcohol in her limbs began. She had lost track of Killian in the crowd, but he sat next to her as they broke bread, her body pleasantly humming while Mushu and Lilly told animated stories of growing up together. The stew of potatoes from earlier was plenty filling, leaving Emma picking at her plate as she listened intently.

Drink however slid easily past her lips as the Kitsune and Dragons taught them their traditions. Several drinking games were led by the Harvest Maiden with her giving a hand signal or yelling a word, everyone drinking quickly to avoid being forced to drink something called 'The Horned Flaming Dervish', a shot served in a thimble that made the King of the Dragons’ face go red when he was caught. The crowd roared with laughter as he had tears slip past his eyes, steam coming from his nostrils.

"You dare to target your King?" he rasped after, laughing. "I will repay you all by making sure my suffering has much company!"

Emma found herself unwilling to be among them. Killian seemed to sense this, and they both clued each other in when taking their long sips.

Dancing began once more, but the dance was different; partners switching less often after eating a full meal and having far too much to drink. The pairings she had were lost in a blur, until a familiar hand held her own, with the other one resting on her hip.

"You have a bad habit of not pacing yourself, princess," Killian whispered, and she laughed lightly.

"No," she replied, sighing. "I have a bad habit of not knowing how strong these drinks are. I'm doing much better with pacing, thank you."

"True. You're able to stand, and even dance this time." He spun her gently, and she stumbled, his eyebrow quirking up. "Maybe I spoke too soon -"

"That was a rock, don't discount me over a rock!"

Killian smiled and she let him sway her as the next partner approached. To her great surprise, he turned and blocked the Kitsune from taking her elbow, taking the next dance himself, then the next several after. They talked about anything and everything as the music changed, while she let herself come down to the beginning of a drunken buzz. Killian probably felt similarly if her guess was correct, but he didn't betray anything to any of the islanders. Emma would not have known herself if they weren't as comfortable with one another; other then his willingness to be close to her and the way his shoulders lost their tension, he seemed as astute as ever. Emma couldn't find words to describe how much she appreciated that, her mind clearing in its fuzziness as she laid her head against his chest.

"Thank you," Emma sighed. "I didn't realize just how dizzy I was. How are you holding up? Are you still fighting with -?"

"No. I'm not. It's been quiet. I owe you a thanks for that, so we can call it even. You were right when you said we make a good team." His voice was low, and she tilted her head up to look at him, the way he looked down at her strange. His fingers traced the star patterns on her hip, as Emma realized she was right in guessing he must be tipsy or close to it after all. She let herself get caught up in how nice it was to be this soft with someone, unguarded, no longer questioning the amount of drink at festivities or his loyalty when it could be like this.

As if hearing her thoughts, he whispered in her ear, his breath warm as the night air grew chillier. "If you feel alright now, I thought I might go back and get a bit of cider with rum in it. It seems to be the best of all the choices by far."

A flash of white caught her eye, crossing behind Killian and into the woods. Chihiro was slinking through the shadows, disappearing into the forest with a look of anger that drew curiosity and suspicion from Emma.

"Not this second. I'm still not quite - Excuse me, I'll be right back." Emma said, pulling away and heading after the Maiden. Killian let her go, his fingers lingering on her wrist slightly, as if he was waking from sleep.

“Come now Swan. Afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible after a few libations?” he teased. She balked, rolling her eyes.

"Not on your life, don't kid yourself," Emma laughed while pulling away from his grip entirely. Killian didn't follow, but instead turned the opposite way slowly, like he was debating whether to go with her. Emma rolled her eyes when she saw him return to the line for his drink. Following Chihiro, Emma carefully paced herself and tiptoed through the brush. Was this a secret part of the festival? The Maiden's stealthy rendezvous?

Coming to a small clearing, Emma hid in a thicket watching in silence, Chihiro pacing a ways in front of her. Haku appeared from the darkness on the other side of the clearing, and Chihiro turned to him with clear upset.

"I asked you to come," Chihiro said softly. Haku shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"And I said I would not," he replied coolly.

A breeze blew, their hair and clothes fluttering.

"But… I asked you to be there, and you -" Chihiro's face fell, and Emma heard her sniffle.

Haku exploded, yelling at her in a fit of anger. "I won't watch you celebrate this. I won't dance with you to honor your life, when all of us know - when I know -"

"This was my choice, I'm stronger than the others. We could leave this place and never look back. We could find where we came from and return there!" Chihiro cried, reaching for him.

Haku regarded her with more fury. "How am I supposed to do that? I won't. I love you, and I put in our names to be refused so we could have a life. You destroyed our chances for any of that by doing this!"

"I did it for the same reasons! I love you so much, and I know that Cruella is counting on me. She would never let me leave my path to be with you!" Chihiro cried openly, heavy tears hitting the forest floor. "I have to come back to you, don't you think I know that? I will break this stupid prison. I just wanted to dance with you, why couldn't you at least do that for me?"

Haku rushed towards her, kissing her and holding her tightly for a few moments, before pulling away.

"I can't dance with you. I - I'm sorry, Chihiro. I can't participate in any of that, any of this stupid festival. I can't." Haku kissed her hand, and through Chihiro's begging and tears, fled into the night.

She stood, watching where he had pushed into the woods for a long while, until with a snap of her fingers, Chihiro cleaned herself up. A fake, smiling facade went over her crying tears in a glamor, her foot falls quiet in the brush as Emma tried to process what she had seen.

Pulling her stiff limbs up and walking back, Emma saw Chihiro head to the stage, pointing out two Kitsune to play her prince and her fool. After a dance with the prince that was awkward and stilted, the fool was sat on the stage. Chihiro had chosen a young woman to play the fool, and she painted the fool's face, until she vaguely resembled Haku, before dumping the entirety of three tankards over their head. The crowd cheered, and the fool laughed while sputtering.

Isaac took to the stage again with Chihiro in tow, well into the night as festivities wound down. Killian and Mushu had stepped away talking about books, while Lilly hung off of Emma shamelessly drunk and grinning. She pointed to the stage while nuzzling into Emma's neck.

"There's Cruella. I'm surprised she hasn't said anything to you. She's been watching you all night." Lilly pointed to the woman now on Isaac's arm, her hair a mess of black and white and nails painted bright red. A bright red pendant on a red choker circled her thin neck, shining even in the dim light. Emma hadn't noticed the woman at all the entire festival, let alone the woman watching her.

She was very hard to miss, tall and gaunt to Isaac's short and soft features, his hand on her waist tight as it bunched the slinky black material of her dress. For someone so conspicuous, Emma had barely seen this leader at all.

"Lilly, I don't think -" Emma started, but Lilly shushed her loudly as Isaac began to speak.

"We raise our hopes that Chihiro is successful in using her spirit to break the barrier." Lilly whooped and the village cheered. Isaac raised his hands, and the strange group of people she had seen earlied stood, all dressed in a dark black robes. They all bore the same black veil over their hair, similar to pictures she had seen of the mortal clergy, and a long white mask. Emma idly wondered how they dictated a servant class, but dismissed it as cultural or religious. "And as we do every year, we remember our past. We thank the husks for their perpetual servitude and the blessing of those who care for them."

The husks bowed all at once, taking off their masks as they came up. Emma squinted, taking a few subtle steps forward in the crowd, looking hard at the husks. There was something off about them with their masks off, their glassy and blank stares and inexpressive faces windowed in the black fabric lending to their drab outfits. Their eye color was gray, and Emma realized it covered their entire iris. They had no pupils, only the stone colored dot sitting in the white, unmoving and devoid of any kind of cognizant reactions.

They shuffled away, a few attendants pushing them when they seemed to lose focus. What were they? Who were they?

Her mouth suddenly dry, Emma tried to get away from Lilly and find Killian, but Lilly held fast. Cruella now gazed out at the crowd, her long crimson nails digging into Chihiro's shoulder.

"It is now time for the women and men to separate for spirits and sweets. Fairer sex, follow the Maiden - Men, follow your Prince! We will convene in the morning for the rites, but until then…" Cruella bowed deeply, her voice a wild timbre, "Happy Harvest!"

Before Emma could protest, Lilly dragged her towards a white tent, the inside full of sweets and cakes, and tea pots on every table. Rolled cigarettes in different colors lay on silver or crystal platters, their fragrances mingling in the breeze. Emma let Lilly pull her to a table, Cruella and Maleficent joining them with Chihiro in their grip. Chihiro smiled politely, but Emma could see the thin barely distinguishable line of a glamor resting over her jawline. It was likely she was still crying, or at the very least, her face was still wet with kohl lines staining her cheeks.

"Enjoying yourself, Princess Emma?" Maleficent purred, lighting a cigarette daintily. Her expression was light and blasé, but her eyes were steely, Lilly retreating in on herself as she poured tea for the table.

Emma nodded politely, for the first time seeing Cruella grin at her with a hunter's gaze, her eyebrows arched and teeth sharp. Taking a red rolled cigarette, Cruella placed it in a long filter extension, puffing on it with force. Her exhale was a great green cloud, Emma hiding her coughing under the guise of a slurp of her tea.

"You know, this could be your next good deed easily, don't you think?" Cruella hissed, another green cloud snaking its way over to Emma. Chihiro made a small noise, admonishing Cruella, but Maleficent nodded gravely. "If your mother and Regina," Cruella spat Regina's name like a curse, "Hadn't marooned us here and forgotten about us, we wouldn't have to do these silly rituals at all. It's truly fortuitous you are here, and you could step in to fix your family's grievous error. But you don't care about that, do you, Princess Emma?"

"I - I didn't even know until -" Emma stammered. The green smoke swirled around her, framing her in an oval before dissappating. Emma tried not to cough again, the smell of the pine stronger than gin and a heavy handed helping of chili pepper emanated from the fumes.

"Of course you didn't. You just destroyed Pann, freed Ursula, shagged the Dark One -" Maleficent drawled, stirring her tea idly. Lilly sunk in her seat while Chihiro began adding sugar cube after sugar cube to her cup without stopping.

"I am not shagging - I have absolutely no relationship with Killian outside of our alliance and I don't know how I could help here. I didn't know about any of this. I didn't know your history with my family at all -"

Cruella's eyes flashed, and she stood with a jolt. Smoke poured from her dress, as if it was breathing. "You don't know how you can help us? Oh, how rich. Why don't you royals put some of your oh so powerful magic to work where it counts! This should be nothing for you - "

"I will do anything in my power to help if I can, but I don't know the extent of this magic. I barely know the history - "

"So you let another bear its consequences?" Maleficent asked, seemingly bored. "Typical. Haku was right about you."

"No! No, I wouldn't, I want to help -"

"Good, if you want to help, you can take Chihiro's place," Cruella said, licking her red lips. Smoke twisted around her head, like great reaching hands. "We'll adjust the ritual and you will fill in; everything will be fine. Simple even!"

"No, I want to see what these rites are, and consult with Killian -"

"Lilly," Maleficent snapped icily, pointing her tea spoon at her daughter. "Tell your friend how important this is, and how much it would mean to us."

Lilly sputtered, stammering. "Uh, well, Emma it would be - we would - considering, you know, everything, you really should - I mean it's safe, mostly." Maleficent and Cruella's eyes both sharpened, and Lilly laughed nervously. "I mean it is safe, and someone would be there watching you at all hours - watch the rites tomorrow and do it, do it for our friendship and as a sign that you truly want our alliance." Lilly finished, and gave Emma's hand a squeeze. Maleficent smiled, reaching over and petting her daughter's hair.

"Well said, Lilly. I would be much more inclined to ally with someone who shows the crown has changed its ways, so I believe it's agreed - you will take Chihiro's place tomorrow morning - "

"Leave her be. I'm fine with my choice," Chihiro said quietly. Her cup was full to the brim of sugar, only the stain of tea in a few places to indicate it had even been there. She smoothed it with her teaspoon into a swirling pattern that Emma had seen in a few of the sand filled gardens they seemed to favor.

"It shouldn't have to be a choice. The Fae princess has already agreed!" Cruella growled. Emma looked down at her cup and saucer, her own tea almost completely gone. Chihiro stood and excused herself, the icy silence that followed her absence only broken by Lilly loudly crunching apple tarts while Maleficent and Cruella glared knives at Emma. Before long, the voices of the men grew loud, and Cruella and Maleficent were ushered outside by their partners.

"There is a way we all win, Princess." Cruella smiled, one thin stream of smoke curling from her mouth as she put out the butt in Chihiro's tea cup. Maleficent glowered at the ashy cup but kept her obvious irritation to herself. "Maybe tomorrow you'll decide to be a better person than any of the people who you call family. Take her place." The two leaders stormed away, and Lilly finally exhaled a long breath.

"That was awful," Lilly moaned, banging her head on the table with a thud.

Emma pinched her roughly, gaining a yelp. "Yeah, imagine being the person who that vehemence was actually directed at . And that creepy smoke thing, what was that about?"

"That smoke thing is just something Kitsune do. They like to change forms, make glamors, trick others with their appearances. You should see what they can do with mist." Lilly shrugged.

"Yeah, well… Super unsettling." Emma shivered. Being deceived by a Kitsune was not something she particularly wanted to experience.

"Hmph, I mean, they're right in a way. You should take her place, and we'll make you really really comfortable. And you'd win our trust! Plus, Chihiro wouldn't turn into… Er…" Lilly shook her head, correcting herself. "She wouldn't have to go through the rite and could go be free to do what she wants."

"It's no wonder Haku hates me. I saw them fighting, and he seems to really -" Lilly shushed her, dragging Emma outside.

"Don't talk about them in the open like that," Lilly whispered. "Dragons… We're not supposed to be with Kitsune. We're forbidden to, well, you know. The thing you are totally not doing with the Dark One."

"Oh. Oh!" Emma's eyes widened. "We aren't though. Killian and I are not a thing, and I wish you would stop -" Lilly waved her words aside, scoffing.

"Sure, sure, whatever. You just danced with him all evening and he looked like he wanted to kiss the daylights out of you. It's nothing, totally nothing; strictly you both being absolutely oblivious when I can literally smell it on both of you - I'm on a tangent. Where was I? Oh, yes. More importantly in relationships - My brother thinks that is why Chihiro was chosen, because they are 'interspecies courting'. He's mad for a great many reasons, and I can't fault him." Lilly sighed, her breath a cloud in the cool air. "As your friend, I think you should replace Chihiro. That seems to be the best for all of us."

Lilly smiled, but it failed to come through as earnest. Emma hummed and toed a pebble in the ground.

"I'll think about it tomorrow. You can explain these rites to me, and I'll talk to Killian, examine the risks - we can go from there. Sound good?" Emma smiled at Lilly, but the Dragon princess looked even more pensive, almost sad. With a burst of energy, she turned to Emma, eyes stormy.

"You should leave. Take Killian, take your ship, slip away into the night and away from this place. Just go and never look back." Lilly stared at her, her words low, and her hands gripping Emma's tightly as she seemed to search Emma's face. Emma heard the truth there, the fear lying just underneath, but as soon as she sensed it, Lilly was laughing.

"Lilly, are you alright?" Emma asked pulling her hands away, Lilly's laughter bringing a smile to her own face despite herself.

"Oh, oh Fiore!" Lilly was almost doubled over with laughter. "You should have seen your face. Oh, I would have paid to have it sketched, you were so freaked out!" Her wheezing laughs made Emma sigh and laugh with her, eyes rolling at her ridiculous prank.

Taking a leaf from Lilly's book, Emma punched the Dragon in the shoulder.

"Hey - Ow!"

"You are an idiot." Emma laughed, and Lilly grinned. "It's a good thing that we're friends, or I'd have hit you in your smug face," Emma sniffed, and Lilly roared with laughter.

Suddenly, she stopped, seemingly struck by a thought. "Wait - you said we were friends? Truly, you agree that this is mutual?" Lilly asked, with quiet excitement.

"I did. Yeah." Emma smiled. She hooked her elbow in Lilly's, laying her head on her shoulder. "We're an odd mix, a 'strange bedfellows' sort of friendship as they say these days. But," Emma raised a finger, "I like it. You're different, but you’re real. You're genuine. The only friends I've had both at home and in my time here that have actually been my friends, have been like this. I need it. I need real in a sea of all this fakery and lying. So… Thank you."

Lilly looked at her feet, and Emma saw a small shadow of something pass over her face, but then she was being hugged by Lilly with force.

"You're my first friend. I guess that makes you my best friend," Lilly whispered. She pulled away, sniffing slightly.

"Well. Then it is an honor." Emma smiled, smoothing Lilly's hair.

"Don't tell anyone I cried, or I'll roast you."

Emma scoffed. "I wouldn't dream of it. At least not until I have your clutchmates to protect me."

"I take back the best friend thing."

"You can't, verbal contract. It's binding. Tough luck."

Bursting into giggles, they parted ways to head to their respective chambers.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian met Emma on his way back from the gentlemen’s meeting, his head still buzzing from the Darkness, the cigar, and the several glasses of brandy toasting in his honor. In truth he had been buzzing all evening since Emma had helped to push the Darkness away, even without alcohol in his system. There was something else, something warmer than the feeling of the liquor in his stomach, the stars a bit brighter and the air a bit thicker. His mouth felt dry, and he felt as if his lips were too dry. In fact, his entire body for once felt starved of touch. Part of him felt like a fool stumbling over questions, while another felt genius for keeping the princess close, maintaining decorum, and protecting the alliance while still protecting her. When Emma took his hand in her own, it was an instantaneous relief like water for thirst. She lead them into the cave they were staying in, and he initially was worried they would be sleeping on rough slabs of rock.

Instead, to his pleasant surprise, they were roomed in a small tented space inside the cavern, the Dragon’s lavish style clear from sumptuous pillows filled with feather down on a raised platform, silken sheets and soft furs, and a scented oil lamp that could be adjusted. A carved pool that trickled with hot water lay behind a curtain, the water never running cold and allowing for a soak. Several varieties of oils, soaps, and other sundries lay on a ledge that made up the back of the pool, and towels lay near a dressing room where several outfits hung. He quickly washed himself and dressed, but Emma took longer, taking advantage of the soaps and hot water provided.

Emma stepped out from behind the curtain in a simple shift, looking up from braiding her wet hair, and pointing to the raised platform. She almost glowed, and the steam mixed with her soaps smelled divine. He had to be drunk, maybe too many toasts or too many cordials were had, his mind swimming in how beautiful she looked.

"I made you a bed, next to mine. If you need to move I can just -" she started, gesturing toward the large headboard that took up the back of the room. The size of it made it clear it was a dragon's bed, and he was sure if he checked in what had been his offered suite, he would find his own. Killian took a long couple of strides, hugging her tightly, and she fussed against him, pushing him off.

"Enough of that, what the hell - you're going to mess up my braid you menace. You're so weird, come on, where is your decorum, sir?" She flicked water at him with a laugh, but he did not relent. "You need sleep and I don't want to deal with you tomorrow being stressed and brooding. They have toasted chicory, and I would prefer to share a cup with you in better spirits than today."

"Bringing out the big guns, like decorum, hm? I must be more of a threat than I thought to her majesty to tempt me with hot beverages. You are too good to a wretch like me." He groaned, and she smacked him playfully until he let go.

"Yeah, I am, so don't push your luck. Gods, this has all been a disaster. A complete, unmitigated, fuck up." She laughed, pushing herself into the mess of blankets and pillows.

"I'd agree, but this bed makes up for it, and it's a burden I'm willing to bear while you speak political alliances." He laughed, and Emma snorted.

"You can't spell terrible without 'T' - and oh, was that tea terrible. You're lucky I survived, and that is not an exaggeration."

"I cannot say I fared worse. The cigars were fine, and the brandy was excellent. The cordials were even better. The Dragon King can put away drinks too, unlike that Kitsune leader. I don't trust that man, he seems… weasel like. He does make a good cider though, so he's only on the short list for potential enemy." Her laughter at his words, sent him into chuckling easily as he put out the lamp. Killian laid in the bed beside her, tension escaping as they made themselves comfortable. It was easy in the softness provided, no hard floor, small bunk, deck, itchy straw, or rocks against the spine they'd grown accustomed to.

After a moment of basking in the softness while making obnoxious noises of bliss, Emma turned slightly, looking at him over her shoulder.

"Hey, Killian?"

"Hm?"

"After all this, regardless of what happens… You know that I still want you to be my friend, and I will defend you as long as we are."

"Sometimes reality is not that simple." Killian sighed, playing with the end of her braid. "I'd like that, but I don't want you believing that we will have any obligation to each other once you are returned and the Goblin menace is dispatched. I'm not exactly going to be welcomed back into the court, let alone be allowed near the crown princess. Most likely, you may get me a pardon or at least a few days headstart to escape, but regardless, I wouldn't stay or be caught anywhere near the court. I'll disappear to wherever I desire, and you will go back to your princess regimen - If we even survive."

Emma was quiet for several minutes, to the point where he almost thought she had fallen asleep.

"Well, if we survive, your heart's desire then. Friends or not, pardon or not, you disappearing or not," she said firmly, giving a nod. He laughed slightly before moving slightly, both adjusting into their sleeping positions.

"Yours too, princess."

In the morning, Killian stretched as the princess snored. Glancing at her, he rose quietly trying his best not to disturb. Emma curled in her sleep, an arm outstretched to where he had been a moment before. She didn't wake, exhaustion easy to understand as her fingers flexed slightly and her breathing steadied. Throwing on a clean set of trousers and a linen shirt, he headed out of the cave and into the light of day.

There were only a few souls out, the black clad, habit-like hooded, masked 'husks' cleaning the aftermath of the festival. Another set stirred porridge in a large pot while their partner served it with a ladle, their methodical rhythm almost mechanical. He stood in line, grabbing two bowls, only a few Kitsune in front of him.

"Good morning." He greeted the masked workers, but they did not respond, only plopped porridge into his offered bowls. "... Have a good day?" he said tentatively, but they gave no indication of understanding. He shuddered and returned to the cave after grabbing a pot of toasted chicory he balanced carefully.

Emma sat up at his return, her hair a wild mess as he handed her a bowl and poured the hot liquid into mugs.

"Looks like you got a good sleep, hm princess?" he asked, humor lacing his voice. He felt good, a feeling of lightness blooming in him.

"Shut up. Lemma eaf." She mumbled, shoveling porridge into her mouth. Swallowing, she turned to him. "I'm supposed to go with Lilly all day today and observe these rites that they perform. I know we didn't discuss it last night, but the Dragon Queen and Cruella, the non-cider Kitsune leader, were awfully persistent that I take Chihiro's place in whatever they're doing -"

"Have you talked about what the process entails? If there's risks involved or one of their rituals is dangerous, we can't just agree."

"Well that's what I wanted to talk about, they want me to watch, but they are so forceful -"

"Emmmmmmmmmmm-ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Lilly screeched from the mouth of the cave, the echo like nails on a chalkboard.

Emma winced, throwing blankets aside to leap out of bed, slipping on a robe like gown that tied around her waist. With a flick of her wrist, her hair was styled. She looked at him as if waiting for approval.

"Well?" she asked, gesturing to herself. "Do I look alright? Not too hungover, or -"

He chuckled, her nervousness somewhat endearing. "You look fine Swan. You don't have to be this worried, it's probably just some tea ceremony or the ilk. I mean after last night, Mushu said that everything gets very quiet while they wait."

"It doesn't sound like a tea service, they said they have someone -"

"EMMMMMMMMMMM! AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Lilly roared, and Killian swore under his breath as rocks fell from the ceiling. Emma cringed visibly, her shoulders rising.

"I'll explain later." Throwing on her shoes, she offered a quick wave to him. "I'll see you later, around lunchtime maybe - Meet me at the library? Knowing you, that's where you'll be anyway."

"Most likely, yes. There or talking to Mushu at his residence, but the library first and foremost." Killian nodded.

"Okay. Plan on lunch then." Emma smiled, and turned, running towards the entrance. "Coming Lilly!"

He shook his head, laughing slightly to himself. After the festival the night before there was a sense of giddiness that he couldn't shake. Finishing his breakfast in silence, he returned his bowls to a mask clad attendant in the washing house as he made his way towards the library. The four masked Kitsune did not regard him, only continued their monotonous labor to an unseen beat. He initially tried counting the husks, but found it was trickier than he initially anticipated. They all looked identical, blurred together, and seemed to move in shifts. Killian found himself wondering just how many husks were on the island and how they had been designated. A plague maybe? With the strange veil it could be a religion of some sort. Either would explain the masks. The feeling of something sitting right below the surface that he could not shake resonated in him, their hollow actions mimicking their given name. Unable to shake off the feeling of arcane sorcery and the low buzz of elemental magic the dragons drew upon, he fled for the library with no intention of stopping.

#Hallow #Courtorderedcake #CSSNS #writing #my writing #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction

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mama-m1na · 5 years

Text

The Kiss of Death: Chapter 6

~~~VI~~~

When the Lilium had approached the ports of Norcht, it was disguised as a Ukaidian tourist ship so they were able to stop without any trouble.

However, since there were still many Ukaidian knights wandering the streets, Rhamina decided to wear her enchanted mask to avoid any trouble.

“You ready to go?” Assad asked as he walked into his shared quarters to see the teen folding a piece of paper.

“Yeah, once sec,” she replied, finishing her work to reveal a paper crane in her hands, “Just need to tell them where to find me.”

As the pair walked onto the main deck, Rhamina whispered to the paper bird before it began flapping its wings and fluttered off into the port city.

“Have you ever been to Norcht?” Assad asked as they walked through a large street market.

“Nope, I’ve just been in Ukaidia for the past eight years,” Rhamina replied as she stopped at a stall with various crystals, “It was very beautiful there, though. At least, the places that had people that just pay no attention to me.”

“Holy shit!” she squealed, running off to a stall selling plush toys, “These are so fucking cute!”

The teen was currently holding a plush fox pillow with a childlike glow on her face with her eyes wide, pupils dilated, large smile, and if her fox tails were present, then they’d surely be wagging in utter joy.

“It’s so squish!” she exclaimed as the inanimate fox was hugged to her face, “Oh my god!”

Assad stood off to the side with the stall keeper as the eighteen-year-old continued to gush over the plush toy.

“How much is it?” the pirate captain questioned as he turned to the old woman running the stall.

“Oh, just have it, that young lady looks far too happy for me to make you pay for it,” chuckled the woman, “You sure got lucky to find someone like her.”

“Yeah,” Assad replied with the ghost of a smile on his face, “I sure did.”

The rest of the day was spent with the pair just exploring the port city and avoiding suspicion of Ukaidian knights, which was not difficult in the slightest.

“This is honestly disappointing,” sighed Rhamina as the reboarded the disguised pirate ship, “The knights back at the capital were so dedicated but out here…”

“They’re slackers,” Assad finished as the ravenette sat on their bed, hugging the fox plush as her enchanted fabric was dangling around her neck.

“They keep their stronger forces close to home and send the weaker ones to other countries and kingdoms,” he explained as he sat down at his desk, glancing at the marked maps on the wall above it.

“That’s stupid but smart in a way,” Rhamina sighed as she let her back plop down onto the bed, “It’ll cause other powers to look down on them, but they would get an upper hand if any of said powers tried to attack.”

“Exactly.”

“Still an extremely petty move though,” the ravenette scoffed, “Almost like they’re setting a trap to bait others into starting a war.”

“That’s how it’s been since Armadeyus I came into power,” Assad replied before asking, “He was a cruel tyrant that only cared about conquering land and gaining power. He didn't care about what lives were lost or about who suffered.”

“That much hasn’t changed in his son and grandson,” huffed Rhamina as she looked over to see that her friend’s hands were clenched into tight fists, unspoken words surely plaguing his mind.

“Where exactly did you tell your friends to meet you?” the male sighed after taking a deep breath.

“Here,” she replied stretching out to hear a few cracks from her back, “at midnight. I want all of your crew members inside when this happens, They don’t know who I’ve been travelling with yet and I don’t want them starting any unnecessary fights breaking out because they think you kidnapped me or something.”

The male nodded as the ravenette proceeded to curl herself into a comfortable ball, her ears and tails revealing themselves.

She then proceeded to wrap herself in her tails with only her head sticking out of the cluster of fluff as she hugged her new fox plush close.

“That makes sense,” the male chuckled as he looked over to Rhamina as she prepared to take a nap.

When the female woke up, the sun had begun to set and when she checked the clock it was around six o’clock in the evening.

Assad wasn’t in the room, grabbing them dinner, she assumed before walking over to the desk to continue writing a new story she had started.

This time it took place in a universe similar to her own and was based on her life in the jungle.

No war took place, but some explorers managed to stumble across her people and that was the part she was on, wondering if and which character would be dying within the next few pages.

A knock at her door briefly interrupted her thinking before she said, “Come in, the door’s unlocked!”

The door opened to reveal Nessa, the woman who she would spend time with when Assad was gone or if she couldn’t find something to entertain herself with.

“Hey, kid!” she greeted with a large smile, walking over to the ravenette as the said teen’s pen danced across the pages of a journal provided to her, “What’s going on here?”

“I can't decide who should die,” Rhamina sighed, brushing some hair out of her face as she turned back to face the woman, “I need someone to die in order to move the plot forward.”

“Well, which character do you like the least?” the dark-skinned woman asked as she read the cursive over the teen’s shoulder.

“Kir, but I need him alive for a story arc in the future chapters,” explained the ravenette as she cracked her knuckles.

“You sure have a lot of things going on in that head of yours, don’t you?” Nessa chuckled, ruffling the teen’s hair, earning a slight whine from her.

“I got to have some sort of distraction from how much of a shit show my life has turned into,” Rhamina replied before she laid her head on the desk.

“You know,” she chuckled, “as a child I was always wishing for adventure, but now I kind of take that back.”

Sensing the dark undertones of the female’s statement, Nessa picked up the journal before asking, “How so you come up with these stories?”

“I just think, ‘What if this happened?’ and I write about it,” the ravenette replied simply with a shrug, her face still on the wood.

“That’s it?” the woman asked as she read through the very descriptive but ambiguous prologue of the teen’s most recent work.

“For the most part,” shrugged Rhamina ask she rose, letting her companion continue to read through her inked creation, “Once an idea pops into my head, following plots and subplots tend to come in as well.”

Nessa looked up from the book for a moment as she began to notice many parallels between the main character and the author.

“You should get this published when you finish it,” the blonde suggested, giving the journal back to the ravenette, “You’re really good with a pen.”

“Thanks, I noticed that too,” chuckled the teen as she set the journal down, resting a hand on the cover as a fond smile grace her, “I mean, when I was younger I was so bad at talking about my emotions, so I would resort to just writing letters because it was easier for me to write than speak.”

“I think I’ve gotten better at it thought,” she continued, looking up to Nessa, “Not perfect, but definitely better than before.”

“That’s good then,” Nessa commented, placing a hand on the ravenette’s shoulder, “You’re improving and that’s all that matters. If anyone says otherwise to you, bring them to me so I can beat the shit out of them.”

“Most definitely,” chuckled Rhamina; however, her chest tightened.

‘Not good enough.’

‘Shut the fuck up, I’m trying and I don’t need your negativity right now.’

‘You know I’m right thought.’

‘I said to shut up.’

By the time midnight rolled around, Rhamina stood by the ramp that connected the wooden pier to the main deck of the Lilium.

She wore a white blouse with a brown corset over it, black leggings, and a pair of black flats; all supplied by Nessa before she got some clothes of her own that morning.

Her enchanted mask was pulled over the lower half of her face once more so that wantering knights paid her no attention.

“Mina?” a familiar voice called from her right and the teen turned to see Kerstin, Sam, Tijarah, and Chloe.

Overwhelmed with pure joy, Rhamina ran over and lept at the four, just managing to fit them all in her arms.

Despite the fact the ravenette’s face was covered, the four could tell that this was their friend without any doubts whatsoever.

She didn’t even notice that her ears and tails had materialized until she felt the breeze from their wagging.

Quickly willing them to disappear, the teen backed up and said, “I’m so happy that you guys were able to make it out here!”

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy to do that, but come on,” kerstin said taking her older sister’s hand, “the others are waiting to see you too!”

“One second,” Rhamina spoke, pulling back slightly, “I need to tell someone that I’m going, otherwise he’s going to lose his shit.”

“He? He?! Hoot, hoot, hoot!” the shorter brunette exclaimed with a glare as she gripped tightly onto the ravenette’s arm.

“Relax, Owl, he’s a friend,” the teen chided as she pried the fifteen-year-old off of her arm, “They’re all trust worthy.”

With one last nod, Rhamina dashed back up the ramp and quickly opened the door to her shared room, startling Assad who was looking over documents at the desk.

“Hey, Imma go somewhere with my friends, be back later, bye!” she spoke quickly, not even letting him reply before running back out the door.

“Hey, wait!” he exclaimed, bolting up from his seat to follow, but as soon as he got out the door the female vaulted over the railing and landed easily on the pier before following after her friends who had taken off once she landed, all laughing as they went.

“Be careful, Prinsesa,” the male muttered as she gripped a letter in his hand with three words highlighted.

‘Ukaidian slave ships.’

Once they were far enough away, the girls slowed down to walk, their laughter ringing out among the other ships.

“Mina, what the fuck was that?” Sam asked as the laughing females struggled to catch their breaths.

“Listen,” the ravenette started, taking a deep breath as her heart only began to calm itself, “If I stayed to explain, then he would have wanted to come and i kind of want to do that after I explain everything.”

The girls went along with it as they led the eighteen-year-old to the complete other end of the pier where a lavish Ukaidian ship was anchored.

Things were going well until the two guards at the ramp refused to let them onto the ship.

“Who is she?” one asked looking at the teen who appeared as a blonde woman with bright blue eyes.

“A friend,” Kerstin spoke bluntly, “Now move unless you want me to start screaming again.”

“You know I can’t let any unidentified personnel on this ship, you brat,” hissed the same guard, glaring at the group of teens.

As the two glared at each other Rhamina snickered to herself, only able to imagine what they had done during the boat ride to warrant such a familiar challenge.

“Fine then,” spat the half-Lemurian as she opened her mouth to take a deep breath in.

“Okay! Okay, fine,” the second guard said, earning a jaw dropped glare from his partner, “just hurry up and get on before the captain comes out.”

“You can't just let them on!” the first guard hissed as the girls walked up the ramp, “Who knows who that wench is?”

“Give it a rest, Steven, I’m tired and i don’t want to deal with the noise complaints when the brat is screaming her head off again.”

As she was led inside the bright hallways of the commercial ship, Rhamina asked, “What have all of you done to terrorize those poor guards?”

“I’m sure you an guess,” Sam spoke with a smile on her face as the older teen leaned away with a look of disgust.

“Good to know you haven’t changed,” snorted Rhamina as she shoved the brunette’s face away from her own.

“The others should be right through here,” Tijarah said as they stopped in front of a pair of doors labeled ‘Dining Hall.’

Pulling the mask down, the ravenette wore a bright smile and burst through the doors proclaiming, “Guess who’s not dead?!”

At the sudden appearance of the female, certain teens burst up from their seats to tackle her in a large hug that sent her flying to the ground, while others needed a few moments to absorb what had just happened.

“Mina, oh, my god it’s really you!” a blonde female exclaimed as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, “Fuck!”

Mostly younger members of the band were the ones that were piled on top of the female as she tried to process all of their words at once.

‘Y’all really missed me, didn’t you?’ she thought trying to offer all of them words of comfort when they mentioned the thoughts of her death.

“Aw, Glo, are you okay?” the teen asked as she craned her neck to see the younger boy in tears, “Why are you crying?”

“You were almost killed, Mina,” he spoke, wiping away his tears as he spoke, “that isn’t okay.”

“I’m sorry, Hun,” Rhamina replied with a frown as the group tightened their hold on her.

After the ravenette was let up from the ground, she was given some space and for once, all of the band members were completely silent.

“Why couldn’t you guys be this quiet at rehearsals?” Rhamina chuckled with a fond smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Anyways,” she continued, scanning every single person in the room, “I honestly did not expect all of you to come. The next step of my plan was to get whoever came to Lemuria on the ship I came on, but there’s no room for all of you, so we’re stuck here until I can somehow get another ship.”

“That’s fine, Mina, you have time,” Sierra spoke holding a jello cup in one hand, “We’re supposed to be playing at the music festival tomorrow anyway, so Ukaidia won’t be suspicious if we take a few more days.”

“Hey, Mina, you should play with us at the festival!” Jamie exclaimed, earning a chorus of agreements from others.

“Yeah, you can still play your solo since we’re doing Second Suite,” Underwood added with a smile.

“I don’t have any of my instruments though,” Rhamina replied.

“Yes you do,” Joel spoke from his spot next to Sierra, “We thought you might want them back, so we brought your clarinet, flute, and trumpet with us.”

The ravenette blinked in surprise before saying, “Y’all are nuts.”

“So, what ship did you come here on?” Justin asked, earning looks from the others, “I doubt it was a Ukaidian ship.”

“Well, have y’all heard of the Lilium?” she started with a nervous smile as many gaped, wide-eyed at her.

“Mina, you did not use a pirate ship to get here!” Krystal exclaimed in disbelief as the ravenette giggled.

“Why wouldn’t she?” the Ukaidian male chuckled in his deep, throaty voice, “I mean, she is a fugitive, so why wouldn’t she have ties to an infamous pirate crew?”

This statement caused almost all of the individuals in the room to glare at him and if looks could kill, then the apathetic teen would be six feet under.

“Justin, too fucking soon, man,” a half-Lemurian teen, also named Justin, replied with a frown.

“Sounds bad, but he’s right,” Rhamina begrudgingly defended with a tense shrug, “because the captain of that ship is actually one of my only childhood friends from when I lived in Lemuria and has agreed to help me with my plan.”

“So what exactly is your plan?” Underwood asked, reaching back to keep her tightly curled hair held in place with a clip.

“Well, in all honesty, that all depends on what Armadeyus decides to do next,” the teen explained, “If he moves one way, then me dragging you out here was for nothing.”

“But, if he moves in the way I predict he will, then I need to start training up willing volunteers for battle again,” she continued, hopping up to sit on the edge of one of the tables.

“Things really are getting that bad, aren't they?” sighed Kerstin as she looked up at her older sister, “but don’t the islands have their own military forces? Why would you have to train them?”

“Before I answer that question, let me expose myself one more time,” the ravenette sighed as she crossed her ankles, “One more secret I’ve been keeping from all of you.”

“As some of you may know, Lemurians tend to have two names; their common name and their true name,” she explained before biting her lip, “My true name is Kitsami Verum Princeps Ibadora, the last remaining Guardian of the Gods’ Temple.”

The eyes of every Lemurian in the room widened in shock before they began dropping to their knees, one-by-one, to bow before the individual before them.

In Lemurian culture, Guardians of temples were held in a high regard, the highest being the Guardians of the Gods’ Temple on the island of Banal, a smaller island considered to be the most sacred of land.

After the war with Ukaidia, everyone was told that the Guardian known as Kitsami Verum Princeps Ibadora was killed and without a child, could not be reincarnated.

“Guys, don’t bow,” Rhamina whispered as she clutched at her pants, “I didn’t tell you this until now for a reason.”

“Okay, so you’re one of the most important people in our culture and your death was a complete lie,” the Lemurian Justin started, “What does that have to do with you training warriors?”

“See, Guardians are trained in a more… feral… style of combat compared to a traditional military and vastly different to how Ukaidian Knights and mages are trained today,” the ravenette explained once everyone lifted their heads, “It’s what gave us an edge all those years ago and from what I observed in the training of Royal Knights, will be even more effective now.”

It was silent as everyone absorbed what the eighteen-year-old had to say to them.

She was really planning on fighting an entire kingdom again, taking up her status as the highest ranked temple Guardian in the hierarchy and taking what she was taught to a new level.

Many of the members of band knew that the teen could easily switch between fun loving child and serious leader; however, this was a new side they hadn't seen yet and it almost scared them to see it in person.

There was still so much they didn’t know about her and this was revealed to them with her true name, but it also explained a lot about her current mannerisms as well.

By being born a Guardian, it was assumed that she lived under strict parenting which could be a factor in her heavy want to follow rules as well as her opposing force that wishes to destroy and create her own instead.

“Mina,” Chloe called, tugging on the female’s sleeve, “will you teach us?”

“No,” the eighteen-year-old spat with no hesitation whatsoever, “I want you all as far away from battle as possible, but that I’m not going to just force you all into hiding if you don’t want to, I’ll make sure you can at least protect yourselves if it ever comes down to it.”

“That’s why I’m taking every Lemurian here to Pugad on my island,” she continued, “That way you’ll have a solid line of defense.”

They conversed more and just began catching up until the sun began to rise, the sky brightening slightly through the windows.

“Shoot, he is literally going to kill me,” the ravenette hissed, pulling the mask back over her face once more, “Thanks guys, I’ll see you soon, love you!”

“Love you too, Mina!”

The teen practically sprinted to reach the other side of the pier, only stopping once she reached the Liliums side.

She was about to board the ship when out of the corner of her eyes she saw the sun peaking past the horizon.

She had never noticed how truly stunning it was until then, the sound of water and picturesque scenery capturing her heart once more.

“Doushite doushite suki nan darou, konna ni namida afureteru,” she sung, walking over to the edge of the walkway, “ano koro wa ushinau mono ga oosugite nani mo utaenakatta sukoshi hanareta basho soko ga watashi no ibasho datta.”

“Kimi no hitomi no oku ni ano hi samishisa wo mitsuketa futari niteru no kana?” she continued, dangling her legs off the edge once she sat down, “kizukeba itsu mo tonari ni ite kureta.”

“Doushite konna ni suki nan darou kimi no koe kanashii hodo hibiiteru yo,” the ravenette sang as she relished in the peaceful morning, “ima made nani ga sasae datta ka tooku hanarete wakatta yo.”

“Nakinagara sagashi tsuzuketa maigo no kodomo no you ni,” she continued, kicking her legs back and forth, “kedo soko ni wa eien nante aru wake nakute.”

“‘Dare mo shinjinakereba iin da yo’ tsubuyaita ne futari niteta no kana?” Rhamina’s voice drifted through the air, “ano toki kimi wo mamoru to kimeta no ni.”

“Doushite omoide ni dekinai n darou toosugite chikasugite todokanai yo,” the sun’s rays hit the girl’s form, giving her an ethereal presence, “‘Wasureyou’ tte omoeba omou hodo kimi ga ookiku natteku yo.”

“Doushite konna ni suki nan daroukimi no koe kanashii hodo hibiiteru yo,” the wind blew by, refreshing the female, “ima made nani ga sasae datta ka tooku hanarete wakatta yo.”

“Doushite kimi wo suki ni natta n darou kantan sugite kotae ni naranai.”

She continued to hum the melody as a pair of arms were draped over her shoulders and a weight was placed on her head.

“How was your little excursion, Prinsesa?” a familiar voice asked as the teen closed her eyes and leaned back into the form behind her.

“We need to get another ship somehow,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back a yawn, “all of them came.”

“Are you serious?” he asked in disbelief as the teen shifts in his hold to turn away from the sun.

“I’m sorry if this is too much, Assad,” Rhamina yawned as the male ran his fingers through her slightly warm locks, “I’ll deal with it.”

“I know I’m asking for a lot and it might not even be worth it for you at this point,” she continued.

“It’s okay, Prinsesa, we’ll talk about it after you get some sleep,” Assad spoke gently as he stood up, holding onto the ravenette’s hand as she did the same, “Come on now, you just started getting on a somewhat normal sleep schedule.”

She only hummed in response as she took small steps forward with her eyes closed, relying on Assad to guide her as she linked arms with him.

Once back in their room, the ravenette slipped off her flats and muttered, “Wake me up in two hours,” before plopping herself onto the bed, snuggling into her fox pillow.

“Prinsesa, at least take off the corset first, you shouldn’t be sleeping with it on,” the male chided, earning a groan from the teen.

“Too much work,” she spoke, voice muffled due to her face being in the pillow.

“Then at least turn this way so I can loosen it,” sighed the male as the teen slowly rolled onto her side so that her back was facing him.

“You are literally going to hurt yourself like this, Prinsesa,” he whispered as he untied and loosened the lacings of the corset, but she couldn’t hear it as she was already dozing off.

As the teen slept, a younger teenager sat in a dark cargo hold, crowded with many other fellow Lemurians.

Every move was heard as the metal locked around their ankles and wrists only echoed in the large storage area.

She had no clue as to how long they had been at sea for, nor how far away they were from her island home, but her chance to escape was then.

Her prayers were finally answered when she heard the ethereal voice of a goddess bless her soul just a few minutes before.

‘I will get my revenge on these dirty Ukaidians,’ she thought, gritting her teeth and glaring down at her chains.

When the ravenette woke up, she changed into a black dress with black lace sleeves paired with a pair of black wedges as the teen pulled her mask up to cover the lower half of her face.

Walking out onto the main deck, Rhamina tapped Assad on the shoulder saying, “I'm going to go check on them, I’ll be back around noon.”

“Hey, kid, when do we get to meet these friends of yours?” Nessa asked, walking up with an axe casually slung over her shoulder.

“Tomorrow at the music festival,” the ravenette chirped, “I’ll be playing with them, so I’m heading over to get some practice in.”

“Alright, just be careful, Prinsesa,” Assad spoke, enveloping the girl in a quick hu before ruffling her hair.

This action earned a whine from Rhamina as she backed away and ran off towards the ramp, only looking back once to stick her tongue out at her long time friend before continuing on her way.

“So, Captain,” Nessa started as they watched the teen disappear down the wooden pier, “Have you told her yet?”

“I haven’t gotten the chance to do that yet,” Assad sighed, brushing back the dreads that fell out of place.

“Assad,” groaned the first mate, earning a sigh from the male as he turned away, “You can’t keep something like this from her.”

“I know, Nessa,” he replied with a groan, “I was going to tell her last night, but I never expected her to be so impulsive in going off for so long.”

“She wasn’t like that when we were kids,” he added.

“It’s to be expected when your life changes so dramatically, especially now that she’s on the run,” the woman replied, “You need to think and act on your toes or you end up dead.”

“Do that in a war and it’s a higher risk of ending up dead,” the male sighed as his gaze darkened.

“I think she knows that, Assad,” the blonde spoke after a few moments of silence, “From what you’ve told me, she knows how to plan and act in battle, but this isn’t war and she trusts you enough to act so carefree.”

The sea breeze blew past as the two companions stood in silence, the subject of the ravenette and war bringing up differing perspectives.

One wanted to trust their newfound friend while still being there to support her; while, the other still wished to support her in any way possible, but wanted to keep her kept away from the world and safe from the cruelties so she would not have to suffer any longer.

Meanwhile, a Lemurian female’s breaths echoed through an alleyway as she ran from her pursuers.

Making the mistake of looking back over her shoulder. The girl was knocked to the ground by one of the men in front of her.

She immediately began to struggle and scream, eyes glowing a dark red as she tried to summon any magic she could, only for the shackles to tighten around her wrists and ankles.

“You really are the stubborn one aren’t you?” growled the man sitting on her back as he gripped her hair in one hand, “Why don’t you be a good little bitch for once and shut up, huh?”

“Ayaw ko, Tarantado!” the girl spat, before the man slammed her head into the cobblestone below them.

The surrounding men snickered as the girl groaned in pain, her head spinning while the man’s tight grip on her hair did nothing to ease the pain.

“Hey, what’s going on over here?!” a female voice called, earning the attention of everyone in the darkened alleyway.

Lifting her head as much as she could against the man’s grip and despite the dizziness and blurry vision, the girl saw the glowing form of a female at the entrance of the alleyway with her knee length hair swaying in the breeze and glowing golden irises standing out against her dark silhouette.

Joy flooded her system as realization began to set in.

As the large, armored silhouette of one of her captors blocked the female from view, the girl could only rasp one word before losing consciousness.

“Reina.”

Rhamina could feel her blood boil as she made her way over to the music hall using almost empty and deserted back streets.

She was inches away from finding out what exactly was going on when she was stopped by the infamous Captain Gustav of Ukaidia.

Unlike Leon, Gustav was actually efficient and decent at his job; otherwise, and extremely loyal pawn to the Ukaidian king.

She recognized the sounds of chains and the kinds of clothes those men wore for she had been in a similar situation as that girl about a year after her arrival to Ukaidia.

Those men were slave traders, and the captain had defended them when the practice of owning slaves was illegal in Ukaidia… Unless…

Rhamina brought her left hand up to her mouth before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

As more connections were made in her mind, she bit down harder, the taste of iron filling her taste buds, but she would rather have this than her magic flaring again.

In fact, she could still feel it building as her rage did the same, but she couldn’t expose herself here.

After taking a deep breath to calm herself, the teen released her jaw, licking her teeth and wiping away the scarlet liquid from her mouth before pulling her mask back up above her nose.

Looking down at her bleeding hand she sighed before walking off, keeping it hidden in the pocket of her black skirt.

Had she bitten any harder, the girl realized, she was at risk of taking a chunk out of her own hand.

The dull pain was beginning to shed through the teen’s rage and she could only hope that there were first aid kits at the music hall where they were supposed to be practicing.

Despite the dark secrets she was uncovering, Rhamina found one good thing from her discovery… She had found her extra ship.

~~~Fin. Chapter 6~~~

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Song Used: Myself - Full Moon o Sagashite

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#The Kiss of Death #Kiss of Death #Chapter 6 #Original Story

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hiilikedragons · 6 years

Text

YOU GUYS IT’S HERE

SACRIFICE AU

The days following are some of the quietest and longest Astrid’s experienced since those silent evenings in their nest. When Hiccup would disappear for hours at a time and return drunk and exhausted, before they could manage a civil conversation. There was an emptiness to those nights, a tense uncertainty and a frightening loneliness.

These days aren’t quite the same.

Boredom and monotony drives Astrid to the point of madness. She can’t stand the inactivity, the restrictions. She longs to be up and running, stretching, even flying. But where those dark times on their island were punctuated with arguments and steely glares, these endless hours are full of companionship. Light.

She’s never without company. Either Valka is at her side, telling her stories of a young Stoick that make her cheeks hurt and her eyes water from laughter, or Hiccup is there, babbling on without much input from Astrid herself. Sometimes it’s all of them, arguing over who is the worst cook, playing word games, coming up with names for their latest rescues. Their dragons come and go, demanding scratchies or starting up a round of fetch.

If it weren’t for having to stay off her feet, Astrid might almost be… content.

Valka has picked up a habit of talking to her grandchild. Sometimes it’s in passing, giving Astrid’s belly a kiss and a rub before leaving for the day. Sometimes she crawls over, stretching out next to Astrid, resting her hand in her chin and having a one sided conversation about her son’s personality as a baby.

Astrid won’t pretend it wasn’t uncomfortable at first. Her parents were never overly affectionate-- they weren’t generous with hugs, but she never felt less loved for it. They simply weren’t a touchy feely family. So the first time Valka arrived home from a rescue mission, patting each of her children’s heads and then burying her face in Astrid’s abdomen to mumble something incoherent, the girl was more than startled.

But it’s something she’s gotten used to. Just like Valka’s strange way of walking, her dragonesque mannerisms and the way she sometimes slips into dragonese without noticing. It took a couple of instances of learning not to flinch when someone besides her reaches for the baby, but now it’s something she almost doesn’t notice.

“I’m off,” Valka said once. An afternoon where she’d planned to sabotage some traps Hiccup had found the day before.

Toothless wasted no time in cleaning the scraps of fish off of her lunch plate once she set it aside. Standing, she left Hiccup and Astrid at the fire and began to collect her things. “You two keep an eye on things for me while I’m gone.”

“I am as vigilant as I am immobile,” Astrid replied over her shoulder while her mother in law strapped into her armor. “Don’t have much of a choice.”

Valka chuckled, crossing the room again to smooth a hand over Astrid’s braid. “Just another couple of days,” she assured her. She knelt, and Astrid leaned back just slightly so Valka could sternly instruct the baby to get big and strong while she’s gone. The older woman pressed her palm against Astrid’s tunic and dropped a quick kiss on her knuckles.

Astrid couldn’t help but laugh. She cut her gaze to Hiccup, to shake her head and roll her eyes teasingly. When she caught a glimpse of his expression, though, she faltered.

He was observing the interaction with what should be a smile. Except it was twisted, not quite reaching the rest of his face. He had one hand holding his plate, the other with a bite of food held halfway to his mouth. And there was a furrow to his brow as he watched, almost pained. If anything, he looked like he’d been kicked.

Astrid blinked, surprised. Looking away, she tried to pretend that she hadn’t seen, though she couldn’t really explain why. Something twinged in her chest, and she pressed her fingertips between her breasts to rub at it.

Valka reached over to him to muss his hair, then whistled for Cloudjumper. Hiccup reminded her to be safe as she stood, and Toothless bounded after them to watch them go.

Silence hung between the two, more awkward than it’d been in a while. The sounds of dragons in the distance clattered off the stone and ice.

Astrid stole a glance at him. His eyes were on his plate, but they seemed to look much farther, at something she couldn’t see. For some reason, she wanted to reach across the space between them and rest her hand on her arm. Just feel the warmth of him for a second.

She didn’t, of course. But she thought about it.

Laugardagur in the sanctuary is fast and frigid. Toothless and Cloudjumper are accustomed to using their fiery breath to warm the waters for their riders, but training Stormfly to do the same is proving a little difficult.

“Come now,” Valka croons to the Nadder. She leans over the edge of the icy lake, snapping her fingers over the surface. “Give it a try.” Adding something in dragonese, she gives Stormfly a tiny splash. The dragon responds by shaking out her wings and crowing like she’s been doused.

“I think you should have Cloudjumper show her again,” Astrid sighs, drenching her washrag in the chilly waters. She has her feet dangling over the side a little ways away, trying to get her body used to the temperature. Goosebumps have broken out all over her naked skin.

“Oh she knows what I want,” Valka replies wryly. She wriggles her fingers to try and get the stubborn Nadder’s attention. “She just doesn’t like being told what to do.”

Astrid’s short laugh is accented by the chattering of her teeth. “That’s my girl.” She dabs at her neck and shoulders, feeling water dribble like icicles down her clavicle. “Don’t worry about it, Valka. It’s not my first cold bath.”

“That doesn’t make it good for you,” the older woman protests, sitting back on her heels. She whistles for her Stormcutter while giving Stormfly a raised brow.

“Can I ask a question?” Astrid says a little while later, once the temperature is bearable enough to slip in. Shoulder deep in the tepid water, she has her arms folded on the grassy edge and her chin rested on her wrists.

“Of course,” Valka answers without looking up. She has a small pile of clothes that she’s attempting to wash before the icy chill returns.

The blonde narrows her eyes just slightly. “Why are you and Hiccup being so secretive about what’s going on with the trappers?”

Tilting her head, Valka slows her work a little and sighs. “One less thing to worry you with.” She gives Astrid a tight smile. “Drago and his men don’t know about this place, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know about what Hiccup and I have been doing for years now.”

“Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“It’s a possibility.” Flexing her soapy hands, Valka stretches her fingers before returning to the washboard. “To be honest, dragon hunting is a lucrative business. Hiccup and I do what we can, but the dragons we save are small in number compared to all the trappers out there. We’re an annoyance to Drago and the others, but likely not effective enough to draw their ire.”

Astrid hums thoughtfully, stepping back to drench her hair. Her eyes dart to the cliffside leading to their living quarters. Just to make sure Hiccup hasn’t returned from his grocery run early. He’s insisting he wants to make something special tomorrow to celebrate her last day of bed rest.

She glances back to the surface of the water, watching it ripple as a dragon swims by not too far away. Working at the tangles in her wet locks, she leans her head back on the ledge.

“It makes me more anxious being left out of the loop.” She sees the dragon do a playful somersault and wriggle away. “I don’t feel as helpless or useless if I at least know what to expect.”

“Well, there’s not much to expect.” Valka’s tone is sincere. “They’re expanding close enough that I feel more comfortable occasionally leading them away. But we have no reason to believe they’ll plan a blatant attack. And if they do? The Bewildebeast will protect us.”

Astrid wishes that made her feel better. Even the suggestion of an invasion makes her hackles rise. At least in a day or two she’ll be up and around again. If she needs to fight or escape, she’ll be able to. But showing Valka how much the idea bothers her is a surefire way of assuring that they never tell her anything about the trappers’ plans again.

So she stays quiet, washing her hair and looking out at the water. The Bewildebeast has taken up a spot beneath the crashing waterfall, and Astrid snorts with quiet laughter at the way droplets spray wildly around him while he stares ahead unbothered. Gentle giant indeed.

Something in the distance catches her eye, and she squints. Craning her neck to see better, Astrid tries to make out what’s glinting on the bottom of the lake several meters away.

“Do you see that?” she wonders aloud, pointing as best she can. “That little light there? Between those two big rocks?”

“Hmm?” The sloshing of the laundry stops as Valka glances up. After a moment, she makes a noise of curiosity. “I think so.”

Astrid starts to wade that way, to investigate, but Valka stops her. She purses her lips and makes a complicated whistling sound, and Cloudjumper spreads his wings. The owlish dragon flies over the rippling surface, circling a few times in the direction Valka indicated before splashing into the water like an eagle reaching for its prey. When he returns, he drops his prize on the bank of the lake with a smug whir.

“Oh. That old thing.” Valka waves a hand dismissively and gives the item no more attention.

Astrid pushes herself up on the grassy ledge, trying to make out what looks like a hunk of twisted metal. At closer inspection, though, her brows shoot up. She reaches for the familiar item, turning it over in her hands.

It’s Hiccup’s flask. Or at least it was. At first she suspects a dragon got ahold of it and gnashed it into an unrecognizable lump. But the way it’s been completely bashed in, and the lack of teeth marks make her wonder. It looks like someone took a hammer to it.

“He chucked that thing in weeks ago,” Valka says while rinsing what looks like one of Astrid’s tunics. The corners of her mouth are turned up like she’s attempting to hide a smile. “I certainly wasn’t disappointed to see it go.”

Astrid turns the flask upside down, pouring icy water out on the ground. The cap is missing, and the lip is dented. It’s absolutely ruined. She’s realizing that she can’t remember the last time she saw him take a sip of anything stronger than mead.

“He’s not drinking?” she murmurs.

She’s glad Valka doesn’t reply. The question really isn’t for anyone to answer. More for her own contemplation. Pulling the flask in with her, she sinks back into the lake, tapping the cold metal against her lips.

He used to keep this thing tucked into his vest, close to his heart. It was almost like an extension of him, another piece of his armor. She wonders what he keeps there now.

She’s brushing her hair by the fire later that evening when Hiccup finds her. He hasn’t been back long, and he only traded the briefest of greetings with her and his mother before disappearing to take his own bath. He rubs at his scalp with a towel, straddling one of the benches next to her.

“Evening, milady.” He’s wearing a clean shirt, and it clings to him where his skin isn’t completely dry. “Have you seen Mom?”

“She went out to the garden.” Astrid answers without looking up. Her mind has been filled to capacity, and she was trying to straighten out her thoughts while staring into the flames. “You just missed her.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and he doesn’t look away from her face. She can feel his gaze on her cheek, warmer than the fire. At first she figures if she ignores it, he’ll stop, but it seems that her indifference only encourages him to keep staring.

Finally, she blushes and turns her face away, muttering, “What do you want?”

Without missing a beat, he replies, “Will you teach me how to braid your hair?”

The question takes her so aback that for a minute, she doesn’t know what to say. She squints at him, stunned. “Why?”

He looks down at his hands, spreads them apart in a shrugging gesture. Shaking his head, he gives her a weary expression. “What reason can I give you that you’ll accept?”

Astrid’s sure her perplexity shows in her features. Her hand stops brushing mid-stroke. “The truth?”

“The truth,” he kind of chuckles. “Okay.” Straightening, Hiccup meets her eyes. “I want to be close to you. I want to touch you.”

Her heart stutters. Like a hand has suddenly grabbed her by the throat, she has to take a moment to catch her breath. Light and shadows dance on his face as he waits for her answer.

Gods know he’s waited on her hand and foot these past couple of weeks. Helped her around the sanctuary, fetched her every whim, made sure she was eating as much as she was physically able. And, as fragile as things are, she likely would have gone crazy if it weren’t for his company. Honestly, it wouldn’t bother her having him near.

“Okay,” she says, and he blinks like that wasn’t the reply he was expecting.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Sliding down from her seat, she lowers herself to the stone floor and pats the spot she’s just vacated. “Come here.”

He wastes no time, tossing his towel aside. Stepping close, he sits where directed, and Astrid shifts so that she’s placed between his thighs. She places her cords next to him so he can reach, having to stretch over his knee. She’s glad that she has her back to him so he can’t see the color that’s likely risen to her cheeks.

“How do I…?” His hands float in her peripheral, unsure. She bats them away.

“Watch first.” She uses her brush to separate her hair into three sections and then sets it aside. “Do you know how to do a three-strand plait?”

“I understand the concept,” he answers uncertainly.

Without another word, she begins tying her hair into one long, simple braid. She tries to move slowly so that he can see each twist, until she reaches the ends. Then, she unravels the whole thing and holds the pieces out to him.

Hiccup’s hands brush hers when he clumsily takes them. The brief friction feels like electricity prickling her skin. He attempts to recreate the braid, weakly pulling one side over the other. Sometimes pausing and then undoing his previous turn so he can redo it. She can tell just by the way he’s gripping the locks that it’s going to turn out crooked and too-loose, but she doesn’t say anything. Frigga knows it took her long enough to learn how to mimic her mother’s perfect designs.

“Alright,” she breathes when he finishes, reaching a hand back to feel the lopsided plait. “Yeah. You’ve got the pattern.” Raking her fingers through it, she shakes the braid loose and spreads her hair around her shoulders. “Okay. So now you’re going to do the same thing, but you’re starting from the forehead and moving to the back. You’re picking up a little bit at a time.”

She lifts her arms, demonstrating. He’s quiet as she shows him what to do, clearly paying close attention to each whisp and strand. When she’s gotten about halfway down the back of her skull, she undoes her work and tells him to give it a try.

And oh gods, this must be a mistake. His warm fingers thread through her hair, gathering it in his clumsy hands, and a shiver reverberates down her spine. Despite herself, her pulse thrums loudly. His touches are so gentle, so feather light, but she feels each one with vivid sensation. She can hear his quiet breathing over the crackling of the fire, feel his exhales on her crown.

“This is harder than I thought it’d be,” he mumbles, maybe to himself. She agrees.

“It’ll take practice,” she whispers back. He’s pulling up too much, not holding it back enough. And he’s not tugging hard, probably for fear of hurting her. It’ll come out flat and uneven. “Keep going.”

Hiccup tucks a stray lock behind her ear, and she finds her eyes closing to savor the feel of his warm hand at her temple. Every graze of his thumb against her scalp, every shift of his legs around her left her trembling and weak.

He clears his throat. “I told you something true,” he begins. “Your turn. Tell me something honest, something I don’t know.”

She only pauses for a second. There’s already something on her mind.

“I used to blame myself for your death.” Astrid fixes her eyes on the flames. Sparks scatter as a burning log falls aside.

His hands slow in her hair, barely, and then resume their work. “How could that possibly be your fault?”

She wets her lips, and her scalp gives gentle pulls when she shakes her head just slightly. “That day you disappeared… It was you and me in the arena, and I was so angry at you for winning over Gothi.” Even now, she can recall the fierce jealousy and indignation that had consumed her as a teenager. It was an acidic, spiteful disappointment.

“I remember.”

“Well. I thought about following you. I did, once or twice.” Exhaling an embarrassed laugh, she drops her gaze to her knees. “I thought you were training with somebody, or you’d found some new dragon manual. I don’t know. I just knew you were up to something.”

Somehow, she knows he’s smiling a little bit at that.

“But that day-- I’m not sure why-- I didn’t go.” She’s never told anyone this before, not even her parents or Stoick. “Like, I got all the way to the cove where we found those scales, but then something made me stop, and I just… turned around. Left.”

Astrid’s fingertips tap restlessly against his knee. She doesn’t remember looping her arm around his leg, but he slides it closer so she can lean against it.

“Later, when you didn’t show up to your test, I was--” Shame tears through her. “I was happy. I was excited. I thought you’d backed out because you were scared, and I was going to get a second chance to prove myself. But…” Her breath rushes out of her chest. “When a day passed, and then another, and then we found the blood in the cove. That same cove, where I had almost cornered you--”

“Mm.” She feels him lean in, nuzzle his nose against her hair. He’s not braiding anymore.

“I felt like it was my fault.” She’s surprised her words aren’t too quiet for him to hear. “We all kind of assumed you were practicing for your fight, and it went wrong. So I always thought-- if I had just gone in and talked to you, I would’ve walked in to find you struggling with this dragon. I would’ve been able to step in and save you, or at least get help. But I didn’t, and you died.”

He strokes the nape of her neck with a single knuckle. It leaves her almost breathless.

“You would’ve caught me leaving,” he says with a ghost of wry amusement. “I’m sure you would’ve been so pleased, watching me run like a coward.”

“Maybe,” she admits. She tilts her head into the fingertips caressing her jaw, letting her eyelids fall shut. “But what if it was different? What if you changed my mind, and we saved Berk? What if we lived in peace with the dragons, and we--.”

“I can’t… think like that anymore.” His sigh is hot against the back of her ear. He takes her hand in his, bringing it above her head to cup his scratchy cheek. The familiarity of his scruff against her palm brings back heated memories of sunlit mornings. “The what ifs? I can’t, Astrid. I didn’t… realize it until recently, but there’s a thousand different lives we could’ve lived. Choices we could’ve made, dumb luck that could’ve changed.”

Her heart is twisting unbearably. He brushes his lips against her throat and a whimper escapes her. Everything is on fire-- too much, too much.

“This one is fucked up, yeah,” he continues, splaying his fingers across her collarbone. Astrid tilts her head to allow him more of her neck. “But I know that in every single one of those lives, I would’ve spared that dragon-- and I would’ve loved you.”

It’s as if she’s fallen from a great height, just to slam into the earth. Her chest crushes the air from her lungs in one concussive blow. Flinching away, she puts a hand between them.

“Stop.”

His hands lift away from her skin but don’t move. She twists to her knees, untangling herself from his arms. It hurts too much to look at him, so she keeps her gaze on the fire.

“This isn’t fair, Hiccup. You can’t just--”

“Be honest with you?” There’s indignation in his voice. In her peripheral, he rubs his eyes, a tell of frustration she knows too well. “Are we going back to the beginning, then? Pretending like we don’t care?”

“It was easier,” she confesses, so softly she’s not sure he’ll be able to hear.

“I don’t want easy.” Hiccup sits forward on the edge of the bench. “Astrid, I want you. Not just because you’re stuck with me, not just because you’re having my child. But because you’re fearless, and loyal to a fault. Because you never let go of your stupid pride and because you’re so damned beautiful when you laugh.”

She can’t move. There’s a thousand different things running through her head, and she can barely hear him over the roar.

“Please,” she says, gathering her hair to one side. Turning it into a wall, a shield between him and his seductive words, she twists it until it almost hurts. “Please go. I can’t do it myself.”

For a minute, she thinks he won’t. She thinks he’ll be stubborn and insist they talk this out. But after a long pause of tense and heavy silence, he finally pushes off his knees to stand. He gives her a wide berth as he leaves.

Everything feels cold after that. Not the comforting frost of anger, which held everything frozen like ice inside her. But cold like the day of Hiccup’s funeral on Berk.

It was bleek and rainy, which seemed appropriate for the ceremony’s tone. Everyone was in shock, still reeling from the search party’s find just two days prior. How was a kid who was so smart and lively just cease to exist? This nuisance turned prodigy-- how was he just not a part of the village anymore?

Stoick was steely and black, glaring out at the sea with just a quiet swear of vengeance. Gobber could barely hold in his tears, coughing and cussing every time he lost his composure. Snotlout was wide-eyed. Fishlegs sniffled. Even the twins were morose.

Astrid was just cold. Cold and numb. The guilt was just starting to set in, the realization that she could have done something, she could have stopped this. Part of her wanted to be angry at Hiccup, for being reckless enough to stray from safety and get himself killed. But the emotion never caught traction. Instead, she just stared at the burning ship, feeling empty and chilled.

Valka must notice that something’s happened. She greets Astrid that morning with a bright smile and a cheerful hello, clearly excited to celebrate her first day back on her feet. Astrid tries to muster a matching expression, but the pull of her facial features must read false. Her mother in law’s face drops instantly, and then melts into one of compassion. She reaches over and brushes Astrid’s bangs aside with the backs of her fingers.

“It’s going to be okay,” she croons, eyes full of warmth. She rubs the girl’s arms, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “The moon wanes sometimes too. It doesn’t become whole all at once and neither will you.”

Astrid’s mouth curls upwards in a way that’s more sincere. She misses her mom.

“Now, come,” Valka commands playfully. “I know a Nadder who is just about dying to spread her wings.”

Truly, it’s nearly a miracle to feel the arctic air on her cheeks again. After over two weeks of being cooped up in the sanctuary, carted from one place to another like an invalid, just being able to look at the sky feels like delicious victory. Astrid didn’t realize how attached she’d become to flying, how much she needed to feel the wind whipping her hair around her face. It’s more healing than any of the midwife’s medicine.

It doesn’t last long, of course. Valka told her to come directly back if anything felt amiss, and Hiccup made sure she was wrapped in about three layers of clothing before returning to his quiet, surly mood. But they’re right-- she doesn’t want to overdo it. So even though she could ride the breeze and dip in and out of clouds for hours, she keeps it brief.

She does things she’s wanted to do for a while, like take a walk through the labyrinth of tunnels and help take the laundry off the line. Simply being able to relieve herself or get a drink of water without one of her companions hovering protectively nearby is liberating.

It does surprise her how thoroughly exhausted she becomes, though. She runs out of breath quickly. It seems like she’s only been up and around for a few hours before she’s having to stretch out in a shady nook for a nap.

Astrid wakes later that afternoon to Valka gently squeezing her elbow. Bleary-eyed, she shields her eyes from the aviary’s light with a hand. “What’s going on?” They don’t often disturb her when she’s resting, usually insisting she needs all she can get. “Is everything okay?”

The older woman chuckles. “Everything’s alright. Nothing to worry about.” She lifts a fine brow. “I’ve come to ask you a favor.”

Intrigued, Astrid sits up. She smoothes a hand over her braids to make sure they haven’t come undone. “Of course. What do you need?”

With a tilt of her head, she takes a steady inhale. “Hiccup’s taking a shift checking the usual trap spots. He’s spent all day cooking, and I know he won’t say it, but it’d make him happy if we all ate together before he leaves.”

Astrid groans, apparently dramatically enough to make Valka laugh. She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes and sighs. Her heart still aches, thinking about the night before and the thread of unwavering fervor in Hiccup’s voice. Having to sit across from him, put on a civil expression, while feeling a maelstrom still raging inside her-- it sounds absolutely miserable.

“I think seeing me is the last thing he needs,” she mutters. Still, she sits up, resting her elbows on her knees. She examines her jagged nails and begins to chew at one.

Valka leans back on her hands, lips tilted up at one side. In the light of the aviary, her green-grey eyes look like mist. She breathes deeply, and then sighs. “My deep well of infinite maternal wisdom has run dry, Astrid.” Shrugging, she shakes her head. “You have to be the one to decide how you feel. What you can and can’t forgive.”

If only it were that simple. She can’t stop weighing the risks, considering the consequences. What can she trust? What’s safe to feel? Is it her head or her heart telling her to run, and would it make her a coward if she did?

“I’ll eat with him,” Astrid says. She looks up at Valka. “Can I ask you something, in exchange?”

Her lashes flutter when she blinks in surprise. “Of course, dear. Anything.”

Astrid tries not to wince. She can’t meet Valka’s gaze. “Do you still love Stoick?”

It takes her a good minute to compose an answer. She licks her lips and tucks a spray of gray hair behind her ear, seeming suddenly years older. But then after a long moment of thought, she says, “I can’t forgive him. For what he’s become, what he’s done to the both of you.” Pausing, she swallows, and for a moment, those eyes of mist glitter with stubborn tears. “But the love always stays, Astrid. Six months, five years, twenty…” She waves a hand with a furrowed brow. “Your feelings can change from one day to the next, but love? It sleeps. It waits. And you will be fine for years, and then you wake up in the night with the smell of his shirt or a song in your head, and all at once you want nothing more than to be next to him again.”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. They sit together for a silent few minutes, until Valka’s sniffling stops and they’re both listening to the cacophony of dragon chatter around them.

Astrid pulls her hand away from her mouth, folding her thumb into her palm so that she can’t keep biting at the nail. “Well.” She tries for a brave smile. “Promise you won’t leave us alone together?”

Valka chuckles and pats the girl’s knee. “I will be by your side every step of the way.”

Together, they help each other stand. As they walk to their living quarters, Valka reaches an arm around her and squeezes her close. Not for the first time, Astrid wonders how she would have survived these last several weeks without her.

The scent of whatever Hiccup has cooking wafts from the stove long before they enter the room. It’s mouthwatering and heady, and it makes Astrid’s stomach growl like a wild dragon. She knows he’s not particularly skilled at the culinary arts, but she can already tell he’s gone the extra mile with this particular meal.

“Smells wonderful,” Valka notes cheerfully when they come upon him. He’s eating from a near empty bowl of thick stew, eyes scanning what looks like a recipe scribbled on parchment.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good,” he replies, barely glancing over at them. Setting his food down and putting the page aside, he grabs a pair of bowls and crosses the room. “Have a seat, ladies.”

“You’re leaving so soon?” Valka nods at Toothless, who’s already sniffing at the stew Hiccup just abandoned. He has his saddlebags attached, and at a second glance, Hiccup’s already dressed in his flight suit.

“Early flight, early night.” An outsider might not be able to pick up on his mood, his unhappy prickliness, but Astrid can sense it. The strand of tension in his posture, the not quite sincere shade of his smile. She’s so busy noticing that she almost jumps when his eyes flick up to meet her. “I’ll be back in two days. Okay? Before sunset.”

Making sure she knows he’s not leaving for good. She takes a seat by the fire and gives him a nod that she hopes looks appreciative.

He serves them two hearty bowls of whatever recipe it is he’s cooked up. He passes the first to his mom, and then sets the second in her hands. When she takes it, he holds onto it for a second longer than necessary.

“I did my best,” he tells her, eyes the color of emeralds trying to communicate something more than ingredients and spices. Before she has the chance to say anything, though, he pulls away.

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Valka assures him, either oblivious to their interaction or deliberately ignoring it. She digs in right away, making sounds of instant pleasure.

“Thanks,” Astrid murmurs, accepting the spoon Hiccup hands over. It does look good. Heavy brown gravy, with carrots and potatoes and large chunks of meat. There’s a familiar scent to it, something she can’t quite place, and she leans over the bowl to inhale deeply.

“You two enjoy,” Hiccup says, latching the last strap of his armor in place. He gives a quick whistle to Toothless, who has his face buried in what used to be Hiccup’s food.

“Be safe, I suppose.” Valka sounds disappointed. But she smiles at him as he tucks his notebook into his vest and slips around the fire to drop a kiss to her crown. Before Astrid can decide whether she’s jealous or not, he’s giving them a wave and striding out the hall.

She can only stare at his back until he disappears into the dark. Just a few weeks ago, he left that same way, shattering her world and her heart along with it. Ever since then, she’s seen his ghost standing in the doorway, always one footstep away from disappearing again. Her hand tightens around the edge of her bowl, and she forces herself to tear her gaze away.

“I feel bad for waking you now,” Valka sighs. She blows on a steaming spoonful, testing the temperature on her lips. “Just us for dinner, it would seem.”

“It’s okay. I’m starving.” Astrid gives the stew a stir, and then lifts a bite to her mouth. “Told you he didn’t want to be around me,” she adds.

The minute Hiccup’s stew reaches her tongue, something hits her. Nostalgia, dreamy and warm, envelopes her like an embrace. At first, she thinks she must be mistaken, so she quickly takes another mouthful. But the more she chews, the more she’s sure.

She knows these flavors.

It’s the taste of being so small her feet don’t reach the floor from kitchen chair. Of cold winter nights wrapped tight in furs between her snoring parents. It’s the taste of Berk, of its slippery rocks and its wet earth, and the pine sap in the air. It’s learning how to throw an axe from her uncle, and listening to stories of dragon hunting as she falls asleep in front of the fire.

And it’s more. Somehow, beneath the layers of home, Hiccup’s there too. He’s holding her hand as they run from Gus’ forge laughing, and blowing raspberries into her skin as he tickles her ribs. He’s singing her to sleep in a thunderstorm. She tastes the sweat from his forehead and the alcohol on his tongue.

She can’t breathe. Astrid presses the back of her hand to her mouth, as if she can dampen all of the memories, the sensations, the aches and the warmth. Distantly, she’s aware of Valka asking her what’s wrong, but she can barely hear. Everything is too loud, too overwhelming. She’s choking.

And then, the storm clears. She stands, setting the bowl aside and walking over to the stove. The parchment is still there, half folded, and she picks it up like it might burst into flames at her touch.

Despite the blurriness of tears in her eyes, she knows this handwriting. She knows the curves of the runes, the heavy hand. The old Hofferson recipe, the one her mom swore she’d only share once she married. It’s scribbled out with ingredients, instructions, reminders. Hiccup has certain things underlined and circled, little notes in the margins in his blocky print. She has no idea how this is possible, but somehow it is.

A sob breaks out of her chest. Alarmed, Valka stands, but her concern turns to confusion when Astrid looks up at her with a watery, beaming smile.

“Did you know about this?” she asks, giving the parchment a shake. “Did he tell you…?”

Valka spreads her arms in a shrug. Her eyes are twinkling. “I assure you I’m quite in the dark here.”

Astrid looks at the recipe again. The parchment has been folded and unfolded so many times that the creases are worn. In the top corner, her mom has written, “For my beautiful, brave Astrid.”

She sets the recipe back down, and then she’s running. Her heart is slamming painfully in her chest, and her lungs give a protesting squeeze after mere seconds, but she’s flying. Astrid blows through the doorway where Hiccup’s phantom has been lingering for weeks, whisps of fear dissolving in his wake. Even though it’s a dim labyrinth of rocks and ice, she moves without uncertainty or hesitation. She knows, for the first time in months, exactly where she’s going.

“Hiccup!” she shouts, his name ricocheting off of cave walls. “Hiccup, wait!”

At first, she doesn’t think she’ll make it in time. She fears she’s missed her chance. But then, from the dark, his figure emerges, and she stumbles into a sprint.

“Hey, just because you’re off bed rest, I really don’t think that means you should be running--”

And then she’s kissing him. Because she wants it and she needs it and he’s here. Because she spent her whole life being afraid of the dragons destroying her home, and he tamed them. Because being with him feels like flying.

“A thousand lives,” she whispers, barely able to get the words between their lips. “I would have loved you too.”

There’s a clatter as his helmet hits the floor. Warmth, as he takes her face between his hands. And then for the first time in a long time, she’s melting.

#sacrifice au #idek what installment this is #you guys my whole heart and soul is in this chapter

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