#(though a cloak is still fairly easy to remove...)

[razzle-zazzle]

(Long winded anon from before) Hiccup doing a loud double take at Snoutlout being alive is gonna make me cry. these guys are such jerks to each other but man do they care deep down. hiccup's so happy that snotlout made it :') if only they had a better relationship i'm sure they'd both be able to relate to the idea that their bodies don't feel quite the same or even fully their own anymore.

(btw i love your nuanced spitelout take from the tags. i think he's really interesting both as a character and as a figure who's really messed up his son, he needs studied for how efficiently he's a bad father tbh.)

honestly the Snotlout mental breakdown my brain gave me was kinda a mess so sorry if it doesnt make sense.

but i imagine that snotlout was really raw after the heather report 1&2. first cause heather stole the scales (which even if he hates them low key they're HIS), then because he didnt even get a choice to tell everyone. their biggest enemies in the moment found out and then his five closest friends, bad order for any reveal honestly.

yeah it worked out and they got Heather and her family out of there and safe again. his friends even took the shifting thing okay but the fact that this part of himself that he feels deep shame for is out in the open feels like something that would only make him crank the obnoxious attitude to a thousand.

thus making everyone's ability to do math about his trauma ten thousand times harder. also i dont know that he'd realise that no one realised yet that he was the dragon in the arena. he'd be on pins and needles waiting for someone to mention it again making him go through it not realising that by worrying about it he was alreadying reliving it without them even mentioning it.

To me his emotional constipation was part of what made the scene in my brain so devestating, cause everyone would be talking about the events of the movie with hiccup super curious about his toothless bonding not realising that every time they talk about the arena and that 'missing strange nightmare' that its him. untill of course astrid does the math and tries to talk to about with him.

Astrid may of course also be emotionally constipated but she understands that this might be a personal thing for him. so i think she'd try to apologise for busting his hand up pretty bad only for Snotlout to brush it off agressively.

also i think fishlegs would make a dig or two about it it uninentionally. cause in rob and dob he goes through an arc where he becomes more confident but also lowkey hates snotlout for while so he probably wasnt being careful with his words, plus without knowing that snotlout was in the arena him mentioning the 'weird nightmare' he wants to study could easily sound like a threat.

to me it'd be the twins that accidentally pushed him into the semi public breakdown in front of the friendgroup. they'd make one to many jokes about his weeks 'surviving in the woods' and snotlout thinking that they are mocking him would snap. cause i think he realised how paper thin that story was too. it makes sense when you dont think about it or don't know he can shift but the second they all learned he could he probably felt like the dragon was out of the bag so to speak.

in my brain he just had this huge emotional word vomit about how none of them respect him. and how they all dont care about him and that clearly they just want the firepower for the team. not him and in general i think he'd just be shouting at them for awhile about how he feels but in the way he does in not lout where he just says stuff like 'i wont be on the streets!' without telling them AT ALL how he came to that conclusion.

OUGH AUGH OUGHHHHH I AM EATING THESE WORDS UP OW OW OUGHHHHHHHHH

Hiccup was definitely surprised! Flabbergasted, even! And also a little (kind of a lot) thrown off by how out of character Snotlout is. He definitely walks away from that interaction going "o... kay..." before refocusing on the task he originally set out to do.

(I really do think exploring Spitelout as a person is way more interesting than reducing him to "Snotlout's shitty dad". He sucks and I want him away from Snotlout but he's also still a character in his own right. and I can use that suckage to my own ends >:]]]c)

I mean, breakdowns do tend to be pretty messy, don't they?

And yeah Snotlout is SO UPSET after "The Heather Report II", yeah he kind of finally gets the hang of flying but like. Ohhhh you hit the nail on the head he is NOT having a good time! And also this is the point where he realizes that damage to his scales will hurt him!

IT DOESSSS HE GETS SO OBNOXIOUS ABOUT IT. Initially he's blustering about being fine and snapping at everyone to drop it when they try to bring up the shapeshifting, then he's bragging about how awesome it is to be a dragon even as he's angrily stuffing the scales back into a satchel. He's so so obnoxious you're right.

Hiccup recognizes that Snotlout's the small arena nightmare right away! Though immediately after stating this he asks if this is the reason why the small arena nightmare refused to do the hand trick: because Snotlout was messing with him? And Snotlout snickers because he does think it's pretty funny that every time Hiccup tried to connect with his dragon form Snotlout's outright ignored him just be a shit. Which of course derails the conversation away from the kill ring!

OUGH. AUGH. Astrid does realize that if Snotlout was the small arena nightmare, and if she broke the small arena nightmare's wing-claws, then -> she's the one who broke Snotlout's knuckles, and she does try to apologize, but Snotlout cranks up the obnoxiousness so bad because he doesn't want to really confront the memory that Astrid's bringing up. He uses her apology as an excuse to flirt and she knocks him on his ass. Neither of them learned a thing from this encounter.

Fishlegs makes less comments about Snotlout's dragonself and more general comments about how Snotlout sucks. He probably does at one point make a pointed comment about how Snotlout's "an insult to the intelligence and strength of dragons", though.

Post-reveal the twins spend a LOT of time trying to goad Snotlout into turning into a dragon for various schemes (or just because they wanna see it). This is both incredibly annoying for Snotlout AND feeds into his ego, as the twins are wont to do. And AUGH AUGHH THE TWINS MAKING JOKES ABOUT SNOTLOUT'S "TIME IN THE WOODS" OUGHHHH

OUGH AUGH. OH I CAN SEE THAT. MAYBE NOT IN RIDERS BUT DEFINITELY IN DEFENDERS I CAN SEE THIS BREAKDOWN HAPPENING. OUGHHHHHHHHHHH

[turn-1-sol-ring]

Lost Caverns of Ixalan Commander Review - Part One

Hello enjoys of multiplayer kerfuffle, welcome to a fairly simple Lost Caverns of Ixalan Commander Recap! The goal: Rate all the new legendary creatures of this fine new set, and speculate a bit on ways to build them!

I will be talking over every eligible commanders, because I sincerely every legendary creature will be built by someone, even the weaker ones, as any card can have special value for anyone. I will also include the Jurassic Park legendary creatures, who can also be found within this set. With these caveats, let's begin!

Our first stop in our spelunking is Ojer Taq, Deepest Foundation, and we begin with a banger. It's fairly easy to compare this to Mondrak, from Phyrexia: All Will Be One, but I like the additional explosiveness of Tripling over Doubling, and becoming a land when it dies, with the possibility of turning it back, can save a lot of mana in commander tax over the course of a game, and provide a bit of ramp for your trouble. Only working with creature token is a drawback, but for a more classic aggressive strategy of tokens + anthems, this works wonderfully well as a top-end.

Malcolm, Alluring Scoundrel is a new version of everyone's favorite blue pirate partner, and this one is impressive even without a buddy tagging along. Looting is often underrated in Commander, but turning your merfolk looting into a limited Omniscience is a pretty massive upgrade to it. Of course, 4 turns of attacking with impunity with a 2/1 is a lot to ask for, so don't hesitate to pack in a voltron suite that includes Whispersilk Cloak and Trailblazer's Boots, and also a bit of Proliferate action to accelerate this ticking clock, and more easily recovering counters after an untimely removal spell.

Akal Pakal, First Among Equals is a new arrival in the long and noble tradition of Mono-Blue artifact commanders. While long gone are the days of Arcuum Dagson terrorizing kitchen tables, his ilk carries on. This iteration is interested in providing us card advantage and filling up our graveyard for our plight of playing artifacts. That's an interesting proposal, especially with the capabilities we now have to create artifacts during our opponent's turns. It's less flashy than Muzzio, Visionary Architect, but a lot more reliable, and probably a lot less immediatly threatening. Sleeve up your Myr Turbine and Unwinding Cloak!

Ojet Pakpatiq, Deepest Epoch is a very cool commander, though his metaphorical toes are stepped on by Taigam, Ojutai Master. What you get in exchange for an entire color and losing on sorcery is a more aggressive body, and ramp upon being destroyed. Ojer is still very powerful, and giving rebound to any instant will always lead to getting insane value out of your Consider and Brainstorms, as well as more substantial hits like Commence the Endgame and Dig Through Time. The land side is a bit worse than the other gods, since you will have to wait a pretty significant time to get it back, but by the time you do, you should have plenty of mana to take advantage of the cards you gathered waiting for Pakpatiq to come back online.

Francisco, Fowl Marauder is a lot of things. A great pun, an adorable bird, and also our first black Pirate partner. I will immediatly admit my bias towards Explore, a mechanic I loved a lot during original Ixalan and now still. If you have enough pirates, this little bird can become a significant problem very fast, or provide enough land cards for you never to worry about missing a land drop again. With the capacity to get up to three +1/+1 counters per turn, favor evasive and sneaky pirates over beefier, more expensive ones. And once you get at least one point of power on this bad boy, he'll be able to help the snowball by itself.

Aclazotz, Deepest Betrayal is the long awaited debut of the Bat God, and it's a pretty good one at that. Aclazotz incentivizes aggressive play to go with your discard, unlike other offerings like Tinybones, who'd rather you durdle and sit back while everyone discards everything. Getting incidental value in the form of bodies when your opponents keep their good cards and throw away their lands is very nice, and you getting value despite your opponents being empty-ended, a problem I faced a lot when I thought the coolest thing I could do to my friends was kill them with Megrim and Liliana's Caress, is fantastic. The land is also very easy to transform back into our Bat, as you'll probably have plenty of ways to empty your own hand if your opponents aren't so inclined.

Breeches, Eager Pillar is our second returning pirate, and now he can stand on his own instead of hiding being Glinthorn Buccaneer. a three-mana 3/3 with first strike is already pretty pushed, and getting up to three pretty decent effects by combat is very powerful. Now, you are playing Mono-red Pirate, which might be a bit underwhelming, but that never stopped people from building Skeleton Typal and the likes before.

Inti, Seneschal of the Sun, is a very powerful aggressive card. Being a red Aggro commander that permanently power up your attackers, while turning your excess lands directly into damage and more card advantage, is a very powerful effect. Aggressive, combat-focused decks are gaining more and more popularity in today's commander landscape, which used to be almost exclusively dominated by creature-combo decks or UGx decks generating obscene value. This shift in metagame is mostly a good thing, and the printing of efficient, aggressive commanders is a catalyst for that.

Ojer Axonil, Deepest Might is kind of insane, honestly. I except it to by the most hated commander of this new set, with how fast it can kill the entire table with something as silly as impact tremors and cavalcade of calamity. Cheap, big, and tough to get rid of, I'll be interested to see how many Krenko and Purphoros pilot make the switch. I'm mostly just preparing mentally to endure the many times I'll die to it.

Ghalta, Stampede Tyrant is a very scary and explosive commander for a Ramp deck. The big challenge of this deck will be to keep a loaded hand while still ramping to 8 mana, so get your Toski and Beast Whisperer ready, and maybe go to , which can be a tough balance to achieve,. 8 mana for a 12/12 that throws on your hand on the board is still crazy to me, and it will put a large target on your head when you sit down at your table to play.

Ojer Kaslem, Deepest Growth feels a bit small with Ghalta right next to it, but make no mistake: Ojer Kaslem is a powerhouse. 6 power on its own is plenty to dig deep enough to get a good creature hit and a land to ramp on top of it, and nothing is stopping you from boosting that power to dig deeper! I'd value creatures with flashy enter-the-battlefield triggers, or near-instantaneous value like Tendershoot Dryad. The land is also pretty easy to flip over when your commander can put two permanents on the board per trigger, so I doubt you'll pay that commander tax too many times.

Abuelo, Ancestral Echo is a very simple and straightforward Blink commander. Pay Mana, get value is a sweet deal, even if it is not the most efficient option, but it's pretty handy to have an Eldrazi Displacer in the command zone. Of course, returning it at the end step has upsides and downsides, trading repeatability for the potential to protect your permanents from mass removal. In any case, enjoy your Cloudblazer and Stonehorn Dignitary! And, if you feel like upgrading the power level of your blink deck, take a look at Brago or Ranar.

Uchbenbak, the Great Mistake, beside its unfortunate epitaph, is a pretty unexciting, but certainly beefy commander. Self-Mill Voltron certainly an unusual strategy, and I doubt The Great Mistake will invite a lot of players to try. But still, how do we build this sucker? You can traumatize yourself, suit up with Bonehoard or Runechanter's Pike to attack for a lot of damage. The descend ability allows you to cheat on your commander tax half the time, but it's still not the greatest plan. Try at your own risk.

The Ancient One is our second Self-Mill Voltron commander in this set, and unlike our loveable Great Mistake, this one's got legs. A very cheap mana cost, and a very lethal body, are a very good mix, and there's no shortage of efficient mill in Magic. A single Glimpse the Unthinkable might be enough to turn The Ancient One into murder mode. You also don't need to give him a lot of additional power, just a bit of evasion will turn this into a real menace. The ability to self-mill by itself is nice, but there are better way.

Zoyowa Lava-Tongue is so cool. It's not great, but I love goblins, I love Rakdos goblins, I love incremental value, and I love punisher mechanics. The art is also phenomenal, but that's beside my analysis. Getting one permanent per turn in your graveyard, as Rakdos, is incredibly easy, and probably quite desirable. Squee, Goblin Nabob and Chainer, Nightmare Adept are slam-dunks in the deck, and you could also build it as a goblin Typal deck, though I'd wager Wort, Boggart Auntie is a better option in those colors. Tergrid would also be very happy to hang out in that deck. Overall, it seems like a fun, lower-power option for a slightly durdly discard/aristocrat deck, and I like that very much.

Itzqunith, Firstborn of Gishath is, that is true, very cute, but so lacklaster when it comes to Dino-Power. getting a 2-powered haste creature as a commander is not great, and you have to pay 2 more and have bigger dinosaurs already on the field for it to provide enough value, it has a hard time justifying itself in the command zone. My personal path would be to build a pretty standard Gruul Ramp deck, and favor dinosaurs over other creature that feel similar roles.

Kutzil, Malamet Examplar is a very straightforward commander, and the Grand Abolisher stapled on it is more than enough to play him in a fair, anthem-filled deck built around swinging lads into the red zone. Having a healthy mix of First Strike, Trample and other combat-relevant keywords on your dude will allow you to more easily gain access to your sweet value. Enjoy Selesnya Stompy, because GW can play creatures without them being tokens.

Kellan, Daring Traveler is a very sweet Selesnya weenie/Hatebear commander! Getting bigger bodies or enough land drops to play comfortably on the adventure side is a small, but appreciated boon, and Kellan himself is a very sweet card advantage engine for a deck that runs a bunch of cheap, disruptive creatures like Knight of Autumn, Gaddock Teeg or Qasali Pridemage.

Sovereign Okinec Ahau, on the other end, doesn't have to be fair. Ever wanted your Giant Growths to be permanent and compound turn after turn? Simply having a Honor of the Pure on the battlefield wield give you tremendous value, and you can go all out and toss in a little Cathar's Crusade too. Doubling the power granted by Overrun and similar effect is also fair game, and even going Voltron by stacking a bunch of equipments on Okinec to double-dip in the bonus power seems very powerful. A surprisingly open-handed commander, that can be built in a number of various ways, all with the end-point of smashing someone's face in.

Bartolomé del Presidio is an incredibly powerful option for an Orzhov Aristocrat deck, which is made more impressive by the fact that it's an uncommon 2-mana option. Orzhov's only other legendary free sacrifice outlets are Teysa, Orzhov Scion, for white creatures only, and Vish Kal, Blood Arbiter, which cost a whopping seven mana. For only 2 mana, you can also sacrifice food and clue tokens to pump Bartolomé to lethal heights, while still accruing aristocrat value.

Amalia Benavides Aguirre is another Orzhov lifegain commander, but this one explores, so i'll give her a pass due to my love of the Explore mechanic. Getting her to 20 power is not trivial, but also not that challenging either. You can use cards like Sunbound or Archangel of Thune to double up on +1/+1 counters and accelerate the clock, and you gain, for your trouble, a Day of Judgement that will help make way for a sing of your now-lethal commander. Did I mention that this card is only 2 mana? Overall, I likr her more than her most direct comparison, Karlov of the Ghost Council.

Vito, Fanatic of Aclazotz is also an aristocrat commander, but this one looks to pair attrition and flyers to close out the game in an aggressive fashion, instead of winning through a massive Bastion of Remembrance/Zulaport Cutthroat turn. By staggering your sacrifices over the entire turn cycle, you can drain up to 8 life and create 12 power of flyers per turn, which will surely help closing out a game in a timely fashion. Vito also doesn't just care about creatures, but any permanent, so treasures, clues and foods (Or blood, for flavor) will provide a ton of value for you over the course of the game.

Clavileño, First of the Blessed is a very interesting Vampire typal commander, and the (underrated) face of the Orzhov commander tie-in deck. Clavileño seek to have cheap, aggressive vampire that can be upgraded to flying threats later down the road, either through sacrificing them yourself, or as a way to very quickly rebuild after an opponent wraths the board, all while providing card advantage, quickly coming out at 3 mana, and its ability being usable the turn it comes out. A solid option for Orzhov vampire.

Carmen, Cruel Skymarcher is the alternate commander of the vampire preconstructed deck, and the option that hyped players the most, with good reasons. Carmen is an incredibly powerful option, being able to reanimate any permanent if you get its power high enough, which is very easily done, as Mazirek showed us in the past. Having a supercharged flying Sun Titan in the command zone is no joke, but you will probably need a healthy dose of self-mill and discard synergy to get your really big stuff in the graveyard to get it out at a discount. Worst case, you can reanimate lands to ramp, something Orzhov always had a bit of a challenge to do. But, by all means, reanimate your Overwhelming Splendor and Ugin, The Spirit Dragon.

Captain Storm, Cosmium Raider wants to shower your pirates in treasure and swords before assaulting your enemies. With original Ixalan printing a lot of pirayes that also bring treasures, and Dockside Extortionist being born to be in that deck, treasure is a pretty obvious path to get big pirates. However, playing an Equipment deck to both empower your pirates on the way in and after being equipped is a perfectly valid strategy too.

[whumpflash]

Penumbra: Undoing

cw: illness, whump aftermath, death/war mentions

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

§•§•§

They were locked in the blacksmith's woodshed; a cold, cramped room made smaller by the logs stacked along the walls. Once securely inside, one of the men loosened the bindings on Tansy's wrists; enough to grant a scrap of comfort, if not freedom of movement. Another fastened what looked like a bridle around Cerus's head, forcing the metal bit into his mouth and pulling the leather tight.

For the hundredth time, Tansy tried to pull at the party's sympathies.

"Sirs, please. I only wanted to—"

And for the hundredth time, they were ignored, this time rewarded not with a blow, but with the slamming of the woodshed door. As the footsteps outside retreated, Tansy tested the door, ignoring the throbbing of their bruised abdomen as they threw their weight against it.

It didn't give, not even a little, and they fell away from it with a wince. Their various injuries were scattered in such a way that while moving wasn't agonizing, anything they did caused some kind of pain. In their face, in their torso, in their knuckles, a flicker or a flare.

With an immediate exit out of the question, Tansy turned their attention to Cerus. They felt a twinge of relief as they watched the shallow rise and fall of his ribcage, and found themselves wondering once again why they'd done it. 

Treating his wounds was one thing, but fighting for him? Hurting fellow villagers in the name of helping the damned Shadow King?

They pushed the prickly thought aside, scanning the cramped room until their eyes landed on a small woodaxe. In their hurry to lock the pair away, the search party hadn't bothered to clear the shed.

Tansy trudged over to where the axe lay, freeing their wrists, then carrying the blade over to where Cerus lay and cutting his bonds.

The man still seemed unconscious, though he was shivering uncontrollably, and after a brief moment's hesitation, Tansy sat against the wall and gently pulled Cerus into their arms, wrapping their cloak around his shuddering form and cradling him against their chest. It was likely they'd be in here for a while, and after all they'd already done, they weren't about to let him freeze to death.

Despite his fever-hot skin, Cerus leaned into them as if seeking warmth. His head lolled back onto their shoulder, eyelids fluttering as he uttered a soft groan. Shadow King or not, warmth was warmth, and Tansy made no effort to create a distance between them, instead setting half-numbed fingers to work on removing Cerus's makeshift muzzle.

They could break out of here. It would be fairly easy with the woodaxe handy, but what then? Would they spend the rest of their lives running? Would they even make it out of the village if they were dragging Cerus along? Abandoning him was no longer an option. They'd made their choice, however stupid, and they'd stick with it.

Still, there were better paths than further ruining their own life. They could wait for the Council to arrive, and explain the situation. They could claim it was a misunderstanding, and distance themselves from the Shadow King. Or maybe they could plead for mercy. For reason. Find a better fate for them both.

They'd managed to undo the first clasp on the bridle when there was a voice at the door, muffled and reedy and familiar.

"Tansy?"

They frowned. "Uncle?" Normally, Aldon would be out on the sea at this hour. Had the news already spread to him?

"So it's true."

They felt their heart sink at his tone, shock ringed with stark disbelief. Tansy wasn't particularly close with the old man, but he was the only family they had left.

"Why?" Aldon said, his voice quieting. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Tansy grimaced, fingers moving to the second clasp. All these whys. "If you'd seen him on the dock… if you could see him now, you wouldn't ask me that," they answered.

"Child—"

"He's suffered enough abuse, Uncle. I don't care who he is. I won't stand for it."

There was silence on the other side of the door, and for a moment they wondered if he'd left. Then,

"The men are saying you've allied yourself with him, Tansy," Aldon said, his tone sharpening. "Allied with the Shadow King. I'd thought them mistaken, but now—"

"Would you have me scorn a wounded man?" they cut him off, unable to keep the anger from their voice. "Leave him to die in the cold? I thought we were better than that. I thought we all were better than that."

Aldon sighed, and the door creaked, as if he were leaning on it. "Is there nothing I can say to sway you from this madness?"

Madness. There it was. Spoken insistence that Tansy really had lost all sense when they'd chosen to hold out their hand. "Nothing," they replied. For a moment, they were resolved to speak no more, to end the conversation there if it would only amount to more accusations, but thought better of it, remembering the healing herbs still tucked into their cloak.

"If you have any love for me… if blood means anything, will you bring me some hot water? And…" they swallowed, their head throbbing. "And some willow bark. For the pain."

"For him?"

"For us. Please, Uncle."

Another long silence, filled in with the slight creak of the woodshed walls and the short breaths of the Shadow King.

"I… I will. For your sake, not his."

And then the silence lingered. Tansy let out a sharp, frustrated sigh, and at last opened the final clasp, gently removing the leather from Cerus's tangled dark hair, and pulling the bit from his mouth. As they did, his body gave a little shudder. A reaction to the touch, they thought at first, but then it came again. And again, accompanied by a small gasp. Cerus was… was he crying?

Of all the things he'd done, from his insults to his wary questioning, this was the thing they'd expected the least. This was the thing they knew how to respond to the least. Even with friends in the battalion, most preferred to hide their tears. What were they to do with an enemy?

They opted for silence, shifting slightly beneath the man, hoping he couldn't sense their discomfort.

"I lost," Cerus said after what felt like forever.

"What?" they replied, wondering if the man was in the grip of a fevered dream.

"I l-lost the war," Cerus continued, his voice laced with a tremor. "The victor chooses the fate of the defeated, and the defeated accepts." The end of his sentence was choked out by a cough, but he pushed on. "I failed, and I'll reap the rewards of that failure. It's what is right."

"Is that what you think?" Tansy said.

"It's—" Another cough, punctuated by a whimper. "It's what I know."

Reaping the rewards. Was that why he seemed so numbed to the world? Had he accepted the Council's drawn-out death sentence, and consequently given up on life? They remembered how confused he'd been when they'd started cleaning his wounds, as if it was the last thing he'd expected to happen. Yet he'd gone with them without a fight, willing to bear whatever horrors a stranger decided to drown him in.

 They didn't expect him to continue, but somehow were still unsurprised when he did.

"Th-thought it was a dream," Cerus said. "When I heard the shout to stop. I thought the fever had my mind, I thought, who would say that? Who would do that? Yet here you are. And I still don't know why."

Tansy opened their mouth, the same explanation they'd given a hundred times—to their uncle, to Cerus, and more than anyone else, to themselves—on their tongue, but the Shadow King spoke again before they had a chance.

"I know, I know, you don't want to see more suffering. Then look away. Or close your damned eyes." He let out a bitter laugh. "I lost. A-and I–gnh—I earned my fate."

"You think you deserve it then? All of…" they gestured aimlessly, "...this?"

He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was even, devoid of the tearful quiver that had gripped it before, replaced with something hollow. 

"Such a funny word," Cerus murmured. "Deserve. Who is to say what anyone deserves? I suppose the decision falls to whoever is in power. Yet seeing as it was these new powers who chose my fate… perhaps I do deserve this."

Before they'd won the war, before they'd watched the guards drag the Shadow King's broken body into the city square, Tansy might've agreed. A man who ruled with fear should be made to feel that fear himself, shouldn't he? Terror, pain, loss. All the things they'd wished on Cerus when their home burned, when they counted their battalion's casualties, when they raised their sword against an undead soldier.

But now that he'd tasted them all, Tansy felt no closure. They only felt tired. Putting Cerus through misery didn't make anything better. Fighting fire with fire only made more fire.

"What if you hadn't lost?" they asked. "What do you think those of us who rose against you are deserving of?"

"Death," Cerus said plainly. Despite the implications, Tansy felt no fear, nor anger, nor even indignation.

"And what would you have done?" they said.

"I would have the rebel leaders and generals executed," Cerus answered with little hesitation. "Leave their corpses hanging as a warning. Foot soldiers and lower ranks would choose to swear an oath of fealty, or follow their leaders into death." Something almost joyful had crept into his voice, and a sick sense of unease crawled into Tansy's gut in response. Cerus had reason to hate his former subjects, especially after the treatment he'd received from them, but that didn't make it any easier to hear him gleefully speak of murdering them. For a moment, they could remember their determination to see Cerus fall.

"I would double the patrols," Cerus continued. "Enforce a curfew. Set up wards to alert me of any future plots. But that would be all." His voice had grown quiet, the hint of joy swiftly fading. "The deaths of the traitors would be swift. I wouldn't—" his voice broke. "I-I wouldn't have…"

The moment passed. Not knowing what else to do, Tansy wrapped their arms around him, letting him clutch feebly at their shirtsleeves as his body shuddered with suppressed sobs. Another surprise. Even now, after all he'd endured, Cerus seemed opposed to torturing his enemies.

A soft knock came at the door, and Tansy looked up to see an earthenware flagon being passed through a gap in the boards that made up the wall. They gingerly removed themselves from behind Cerus to retrieve it. The water within was not hot, but it was warmer than the surrounding air, and they fished out the pouch of herbs, pinching some between their fingers and dropping it into the water to steep.

A finger's length of willow bark followed the flagon, and they took it with a murmured thanks.

"How long are they to keep us locked in here?" Tansy asked, once they'd repositioned themselves.

"The Council will be notified, but you will not walk free before their arrival," their uncle answered.

Would they be kept here in that time? Freezing in this tiny shed? "And when will they arrive?" they asked.

"With luck, they'll garner transport with a mage's circle and be here within a few days," Aldon replied. "But child, the village will not wait."

Dread curled in their stomach at his words. "Will not wait for what?"

The old man took an audible breath before continuing. "You are both to be punished," he said. "Flogged in the square. I tried to reason with them, but people are afraid. They want to show that the Shadow King, and… and any collaborators, are subdued."

Flogged? Tansy forced themself to take a deep breath, a futile effort to ease the curdling in their gut. 

"Tansy?"

"I heard you, Uncle." They closed their eyes, resting the back of their head on the wall. "It's… it'll be alright."

"I will see if I can bring you a meal," Aldon said. "Please… I ask that you think on this in the meantime. How much are you willing to sacrifice for him?"

As the sound of their uncle's footsteps faded, Tansy placed the willow bark between their teeth, chewing anxiously. A public whipping would be both painful and humiliating for them, but for Cerus it may well be a death sentence. The bandages they'd wrapped around his torso the night before had already darkened with blood from the wounds that covered his back. The thought of layering more on top of those…

They couldn't let it happen. There was one thing they could do, one way to shield Cerus, but it wouldn't be pleasant for them.

A rueful smile crept across Tansy's face.

But what's one more sacrifice?

§•§•§

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump @chiswhumpcorner @whatwhumpcomments , @dont-look-me-in-the-eye , @turn-the-tables-on-them

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

What about Yandere Allies vs Stomach sleeper please.

The sound of quiet footsteps was the only sound that echoed throughout the quiet house. A shadowy figure moved with the practiced grace of a resident of the home. Quietly and quickly, he found what he was looking for within the master bedroom. A woman, sleeping peacefully on her stomach and pillow up to her face.

France – François sighed; he knew of her little sleeping habit. Sure, it was cute to look at and imagine himself as the pillow, but to move her to her new home would be more of a drag. Still, he couldn’t help but give a slight smile when she cuddled more into the pillow.

François was ready for this, after all, he watched her on the app Darling Watch. He would start by grabbing blankets from her bed, leaving one to cover his chéri. Just as quietly as he entered the home, the blankets were placed on the passenger seat of his car. With the turn of his keys, the car purred back to life, and the heat was turned up to a comfortable level.

When returning to his chéri, François would remove the chloroform and rag from his jacket pocket. Soaking the rag, he would gently place the rag on her face. The cold and wetness of the rag would shock Chéri awake. At this point, François would straddle Chéri and hold the cloth to her face.

Once her fight weakened, François would pull her close, and whisper calming words. As the compound finally claimed another victim, he would spirit her away. Off to a new life, where horrors await.

America – Allen smirked, he knew his doll was cute, but he couldn’t guess that she was this cute. The combination of baggy pajamas and the cuddling of the pillow made him blush.

Once Allen comes down from the cuteness high, he makes quick work of pulling out a cocktail of somniferous drugs. The vial reading, Sleeping Beauty: For Your Darling Moving Convenience. Using a fresh syringe, Allen filled it with the correct dosage.

Placing the needle in his mouth, Allen would gentle flip his doll over on her back. Doll would wake up halfway through the flip, mainly from the sensation of being placed back down. Her snap awake would lead to a brief struggle. Sluggish from sleep Doll would easily be overpowered. Once he is sure that she can’t escape his grasp, the drug would be injected intramuscularly. Through it all, Doll would be screaming, but it wouldn’t matter. Allen’s drug would quickly quiet her.

Now unconscious and with bruises on her wrist, Doll would be at Allen’s mercy. A knock on the door would be a distraction that he would quickly remedy. He would either charm his way out of suspicion or simply kill the fool for interrupting his moment.

After dealing with that, Allen would lift his doll onto his shoulder. A small groan of discomfort escaping her mouth. In his other hand, would be a pillow and stuffed animal wrapped in two blankets. Those would be the only things of her previous life.

Canada – Matt hoped that they wouldn’t overheat once they started sharing a bed. Sure it was cute, but the pillow and stomach sleeping lead Matt to see Maple as a cuddler. Which would be amazing for the winter, but not for the summer. Though, Matt would make do if it meant having her love.

Matt would treat her like a hibernating bear. Since both sleeps on their stomachs, Matt knows exactly how to move her. He would first inject a basic somniferous drug into Maple and would be ready to cover her mouth in case she awakens.

Once she is back asleep, or deep enough under from the drugs, Matt begins to move her. Grabbing Maple under the shoulders, Matt lifts her from her stomach into his arms. Once she’s in a stable position Matt makes his way outside to his truck.

Matt walks to the back of his truck where a large crate was open. Inside was a simple seat with a seat belt, a huge pile of pillows, and blankets set upon a large mattress. He walks to the back of the gray box where he places her on the nest of softness. From there Matt tucks her in and chuckles when she flips back onto her stomach.

After that Matt closes the crate and jumps into the driver seat. He has a long way to drive, and it's important that no one stops him. After all, a big zoo crate makes it seem like his little Maple is a predator when in reality, she was the prey.

England – Oliver gave sighed at the sight. It wasn’t the most lady-like position, but something about it warmed his heart. Maybe it was the innocence of it all, or that it was something that just explained his darling perfectly.

Oliver would be one of the only nations to drug his dearie in advance. This would be fairly easy since he would use his cupcakes. More than likely Dearie would be given them while at work or Oliver would make it seem like a close friend sent her cupcakes. Since the cupcakes seem to come from a safe place, Dearie thinks it is safe to eat. They are slow-acting, this way his dearie can feel safer, and it will help prevent panic.

Oliver would know the second they are eaten, because of Flying Strawberry Bunny. She would be watching and deliver the news to Oliver. Which he would respond with joy, after all this was the official start to their new life together.

After arriving, with the cover of night as his invisibility cloak, he was able to look upon her. Knowing she was unconscious; Oliver would happily and quietly hum a lullaby as he took her from her bed. It would probably be something old, maybe something Oliver’s mother once sung to him.

It wasn’t more than five minutes before Oliver had Dearie in his car. Though, to ensure that his tracks were well covered, a changeling would be left in her place. This way no one had a reason to question anything.

Russia – Viktor’s родная looked so warm. Pillow close and blankets covering her back, protecting her from the cold. It must have been nice, but that comforting atmosphere would have to be broken. Viktor after all, came from the cold. To a warmth seeker, his home would be freezing. Which he hoped would send her cuddling into his arms.

As родная slept, Viktor would remove his beloved coat. It would have already been warmed from his own body heat and be covered in his scent. This, Viktor reasoned, would help with the adjustment of родная. It would have been already emptied of his weapons, and his drug of choice would have been kept in his pants pocket.

Once the jacket was draped on родная, Viktor would remove the already prepped syringe from his pocket. The cap would be removed, and Viktor would make it quick. His speed and accuracy of the intramuscular shot would not disturb even the lightest of sleeper. Which is good when a person is gonna kidnap someone.

After ensuring родная is deeply under. Viktor would cradle her close as he walked out of the house. Using his body as a way to protect her from the cold, Viktor would sit with her in his car. This would last until he deemed the car was warm enough for родная.

With the warm car, Viktor would place her in the backseat. A pillow having been grabbed from her couch on the way out. She was comfortable, and Viktor has finally felt peace.

China – Jin wanted nothing more than to make this quick and go to bed. The sight of Qin sleepily cuddling her pillow turned that want into a desire. Maybe he would take his time after all.

Jin would be torn between quickly drugging Qin and enjoying the bliss of her sleeping state. His want for romance wins out in the end, and he takes it slow. For this creep of a romantic, that means cuddling with Qin, who does not even know who he is.

Jin does this by taking the place of her pillow. This means very slowly sliding the pillow out of her grasp, and then guiding her into his arms. With a few close calls, Jin inserts himself into her arms. The combination of their body heat, her sweet scent, and the softness that was surrounding him caused him to finally fall asleep.

The plan was to only close his eyes for a ten-minute nap. Instead, he slept for about four hours, which lead to Qin waking up before him. Depending on his Qin, he will either be woken up by the movements or by her screaming. Whichever way he awakens, Jin pins her.

Jin is gonna throw out some flirty lines while she is stuck beneath him. Hoping that the lines are enough of a distraction for him to drug her. Which he does with practiced grace. Qin may squeak in shock, but Jin will just sit there and coo over the sound.

Eventually, the drug kicks in, and Qin falls into a dreamless sleep. Jin will sigh with relief, he didn’t enjoy the panic of his Qin, but it will be worth it. At least that’s what he tells himself.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Darkling Character Analysis

Full disclaimer, I’ve not read the books, though I have ordered the first so I am hoping to have read that soon. But just so you are aware this character analysis is based entirely on the show version of the character. Obviously there will be spoilers for all of season one. Also I just want to say that my aim with this analysis was to sort of get into The character’s head and so alot of this is just what I think the character might have been thinking, feeling and what his motivations may be, it does not mean I agree or disagree with his actions. When I am giving my view on his actions I will try to make it as clear as possible. Also this is just my interpretation of the character and my own opinions on the character, it is ok if you disagree. So obviously this is an analysis of the character The Darkling but I am also going to be talking about his relationship with Alina so I guess its also a sort of analysis of their relationship too just solely from Aleksander’s side of it. I will be using all of the names he has interchangeably because he has so many that I don’t know which one to stick with (seriously haven’t seen a character with this many different names since Jace from Shadowhunters) so sorry if that’s annoying. Fair warning this one is probably the longest analysis I have ever written and they are usually pretty long so I would suggest if you are going to read this maybe get some beverages and snacks first. I mean I think it shows how compelling and interesting a character he is that I was able to waffle on as long as have about him. But yeah its long. Of course you can also always scroll on past. But if you would like to read it then the rest is under the tag. 

Ok so first off I think the show does a really good job of building up the character in the first episode by giving us some information on The Black General before we and Alina officially meet him, they really give the character this air of mystery by giving us only a small amount of information about him but also by not letting us see his face. We get small tantalising glimpses of him, a shot of his boots in the mud, his carriage passing by, the back of him with his cloak billowing in the wind as the skiff enters the fold. It’s just enough to peak the audience’s interest. But most of what we learn in episode one is from what other character’s tell us. The very first mention we get of The General is from Mal and it’s a very small detail but I actually think it can tell you alot about The Darkling’s character. When Mal and Alina come across the Grisha practising Mal says ‘They’re always picking on us when their General’s not around.’ This seems like such a throwaway comment designed to show us how the First Army feel about Grisha and paints this picture of the Grisha thinking they are higher and mightier than those who are not Grisha. But it actually suggests that if they only do it when The General is not around then he does not tolerate Grisha bullying First Army. That he doesn’t think its ok for them to act like they are higher and mightier than those who are not Grisha and that he believes in humility even. Which I think is really interesting. This tracks with Nadia’s comment later in episode three when she says that General Kirigan insists that the Grisha eat peasant fare to keep them humble. Yet while he encourages humility he also makes sure that the Grisha have everything they need in order to flourish and he obviously cares a great deal about the Grisha, I feel like rising the Grisha up and making them strong has been pretty much his only drive and motivation over the hundreds of years since the fold was created. 

The other thing we learn which is repeated a couple of times by a few of the characters is that The General cannot bring down the Shadow Fold. In fact I think there are two conversations about it. The first between Inej, Jesper and Kaz when Jesper asks why the General hasn’t taken it down to which Inej replies ‘Have you ever put out fire by adding more fire?’ The other conversation is more flippant and is between Dubrov and Mikhael, where Mikhael sarcastically says the General is there to save the day and Dubrov asks if he’s going to tear down the fold. So on two occasions we have characters believing the General is powerful enough to fix the problem of the fold only for them to be corrected and told that he can’t. It seems like the show wants to make it very clear that the General will not be destroying the fold and I could be reaching here but this could be foreshadowing for later when we learn he doesn’t desire to bring down the fold.       

Of course even after the first episode the character of the Darkling still remains a bit of a mystery. He’s the kind of character where the more you learn about him the more questions you have. This tactic of giving us small pieces of information about him, just enough to keep you interested continues throughout the season and of course you have the twist in episode 5 where its revealed that he’s the ‘villain’. And yes I did put villain in quotation marks because I personally feel like its too simplistic a term to use for the character. I do feel like he’s more than just a two dimensional villain and there is alot of complexity to the character and his actions just for him to be considered the ‘bad guy’. 

So lets have a look at some of those actions and think about what might have been his motivations and what he might have been thinking and feeling. I want to start with one of the more controversial of his actions and as a warning this is a sensitive topic. One of the earlier things we find out about is that General Kirigan gifted Genya to the Queen. I’ll be honest when I first watched this scene I was so caught up in the new character and what was going on in the scene that I didn’t think much about Genya’s comment about being a gift to the Queen but when I thought more on it later I realised that it was a rather dark idea, that you could gift a person to another person. It becomes especially darker later when you find out what Genya suffered at the King’s hands. I kept wondering a few things, one being why the General would gift a child to the Queen in the first place, two whether he knew what the King was when he put Genya under the royal family’s care and three if he didn’t why he didn’t remove Genya when he discovered what was happening with the King. I do feel that we didn’t get enough information in the show (I don’t know if there’s more information in the books) to really answer these questions but I’ll give it my best shot. Firstly why would the General gift a child to the Queen? Well I actually think this one is easy to answer, he needed a spy within the Royal Family. We know that Aleksander has suffered and been betrayed by a king in the past. He won the Old King a war and in turn that King turned on not just Aleksander but on his people too. I feel like Aleksander was blindsided when this happened and he just didn’t see it coming and because of that his people were slaughtered. It would make sense then that the General would want to keep an eye on the royals and get a warning if they were planning on turning on Grisha again. I also think this is why they refer to Genya as a ‘gift’. That was just the wording the General used to manipulate the royals. Here’s a gift that I am granting you out of respect and to honour and please you, is going to go over a lot better than hey here’s a spy I want in your household. Genya is essentially the General’s trojan horse. As for it being Genya as oppose to someone else, like a trained adult Grisha, well I think that’s because it would be easier to get the royals to take a child into their household than an adult, even as a gift. They will be alot less suspicious of a child than they would an adult. Also they might bond with a child and therefore treat them as more of a confidante as time goes on. As well as that Genya had a very specific set of Grisha abilities that made her perfect for a vain Queen. I may be wrong on this one but thinking back to my history education I think I remember being taught it was fairly common during the time period if a young lady was discovered to have a particularly special talent, like say singing for example, they may be given as a gift to the Queen as this may gain favour for the maiden’s family if she is made a lady in waiting. So if I am right about that then whilst it might seem strange to us it may have been a fairly normal practise to the characters. I mean Alina didn’t seem shocked when Genya said she was a gift to the queen it was learning about the King that upset her. 

Also I do wonder if some of the reason why he placed her with the royal family was because he believed she wouldn’t fit in with the other Grisha, she does say that she is almost as rare as Alina. I don’t know for sure but maybe the General suspected she would struggle with being different from the other Grisha and so decided the best way to help her grow and flourish was by giving a special mission of her own. 

Ok so what about question 2? Did he know what kind of person the King was when he placed Genya under his care. In my opinion I don’t think he did. I am basing this on how he always seems to want to make Grisha safe and wants them to flourish and also due to his actions with Alina when things between them became more intimate, we know that consent is something Aleksander cares about. So to me it would be out of character for him considering how much he cares about the Grisha and consent for him to knowingly put Genya under the King’s care whilst having the knowledge of what would happen to her. I feel like he would also consider it as a disrespect towards Grisha from the King for him to harm a Grisha woman like that especially as she was ‘gifted’ to them. Also when Alina herself asks a similar question in episode 7 when she says ‘did you think Genya was safe when you placed her under the King’s watch?’ To me I think the Darkling looked somewhat upset that she would think that he would knowingly put Genya in that situation. However I do think that by the time Alina was discovered and brought to the Little Palace he was aware of what was going on with Genya and the King as he makes that comment about Alina remaining at the Little Palace with him to train undisturbed. The way he said undisturbed made me think he thought the King might decide he wanted Alina and the General was warning the King away, making it clear that if he wanted the fold destroyed he would have to leave Alina alone. His actions here in protecting Alina also make me think that he didn’t know at the time of placing Genya with the Royal family what would happen to her. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake with Alina that he made with Genya. 

As for number 3, why didn’t he remove Genya from the King’s care once he did find out about what the King was doing? I saw a few comments about this. All of them saying the same that because he didn’t get Genya out he was as bad as the King and was complicit in what happened to Genya. But I actually think it’s more complicated than that. For one thing technically he did remove Genya from the King’s care when he had her poison the king and then made her Corporalnik. Though obviously he didn’t do it immediately. We’ve got no timescale as to when he find out so who knows how long they were planning this. But also there was one line in episode 3 that I think answers this question best, when the General says ‘I may lead the Second Army, but the King is still the King.’ Whilst the General is powerful he still only has so much power over the King. He needed the King’s permission just  to have Alina at the Little Palace and for her to train, which is what the demonstration Alina had to go through in episode 3 was all about. I don’t think the General had the power to just walk into the Grande Palace and take back Genya. The only way he was getting Genya out of there was by killing the King. Also correct me if I am wrong but I feel like what the King was doing to Genya was a large part of the General’s motivation for poisoning the King. I mean we weren’t given much information about the King other than what he was doing to Genya, which made me think that’s why he was poisoned as we weren’t told about any other bad things the King had done that might lead to the General deciding to poison him. I think once he found out what the King was doing to Genya he allowed her to be the one to carry out the poisoning knowing that she would want revenge rather than trying to remove her right away and potentially causing tension with the royal family and also making it harder if not impossible for Genya to be the one to exact her revenge on the King. I guess what I am saying is its possible that Genya was the one who wanted to stay because she wanted to be the one to kill the King. I mean that’s the impression I got from her conversation with Alina where she says ‘I waited for years for my chance at revenge.’ For all we know General Kirigan might have offered to remove her from the Royal household and she might have told him she wanted to be the one to help him take down the King. Whatever his motivations were and however much he may or may not have known I think we can all agree that him ‘gifting’ Genya to the Queen was a mistake. I personally feel like it was more of a similar mistake to when Alina burned the maps. She had good intentions, she did it to protect someone she cared about, but in the end she caused others harm. With Alina she wanted to protect Mal and her whole unit was killed. With Kirigan I think he hoped a spy in the Royal household would protect the Grisha but in the end Genya was harmed by the King. One question I do have is whether Kirigan feels any guilt over what happened to Genya, whether he regrets his decision. I mean we did see him protect Alina from the King when he insisted she remain at the Little Palace. But was that just because it was Alina, the Sun Summoner? What if it were someone else. For example say the King came to the General and said he had taken a fancy to Marie, or Nadia or Zoya, and asked for them to be sent to the Grande Palace, would the General have agreed or would he have made some excuse as to why they couldn’t go, maybe even sent them on an assignment to protect them? There’s no way we can really know the answers to these questions as we just don’t know enough about the situation. All we know is that the General ultimately decided to get rid of the King but even then we don’t know for certain what his motivations for that were.   

I suppose you could say that him plotting against the king and conspiring with the apparat to usurp the throne was also a ‘bad guy’ move. But to be honest after telling us everything that the King did and just generally presenting the royal family in a negative light, I was surprised that Alina had such a problem with what the General did. To me it didn’t make sense for her to be upset and using that against him. I mean after learning what he did to Genya I was fully on the Darkling’s side when it came to killing the King. If they were trying to present this as a ‘villain’ move on the Darkling’s part then they did a poor job of it because I completely understood where he was coming from with that one. 

I felt a similar way with his other big ‘villain’ move when he expanded The Fold into Novokribirsk. At first I found it hard to have sympathy for them considering literally a couple of minutes before we were being shown that the soldiers were planning on murdering everyone on the skiff as soon as it docked. Couple that with the fact that Zlatan had arranged to assassinate Alina and once again I found myself on the Darkling’s side, I mean screw Zlatan and his soldiers. It was another case of it wasn’t until I rewatched it that I realised the villainous part of what the Darkling did was that there were civilians in the city that were also killed. To be honest I do wish that the show had done a better job of showing those civilians to really get across the horror of what the Darkling did. I mean on a rewatch I could see a few civilians mixed in with the soldiers but they were blended in so were hard to spot. I guess that was the purpose of Zoya having family in the city, to tell the viewer that there were innocents there but I just don’t think it made enough of an impact. I feel like if they had focussed in on actual civilians running and being swallowed by the darkness as well as the West Ravkan soldiers it would have had a bigger and more horrific impact. Instead it just kind of came across as the bad guys who had been built up as being bad throughout the season, who were rebels and who had tried to kill the main character, were finally eliminated. Lets be real if Alina had been the one to take out those soldiers we would all have been cheering. Lets talk about Game of Thrones for a moment as an example (spoiler alert for GOT here) however you felt about the way Dany’s descent into madness was written one thing the writers did right in The Bells episode was focus on the civilians that Dany was killing on the ground. They cut away from Dany completely and stayed on the ground with her victims and so you get that impact of what she has done, you see the horror in what she has done and I think this is something that would have worked well with Shadow and Bone. If they had just cut away from the skiff for a scene showing the civilians, the victims that were being effected by what the Darkling was doing then I think I would have been more shocked and effected by his actions. 

Ok so lets focus back in on the character and talk about what his motivations might have been for Novokribirsk. Why did he expand the Fold and take out the city? Well again I don’t think its hard to answer that question. We have to remember that he is a General that is fighting a war on three fronts. He’s fighting the Fjerdans on one side, the Shu Han on another and then the cherry on top is that the West Ravkans are rising up in rebellion. It’s already hard enough having to fight two enemy countries without also having to split your forces again to deal with a rebellion. The General knows that they are already overstretched without having to split their force again to deal with Zlatan. So if you look at it from his point of view striking down Zlatan now before the rebellion gets too large is a tactical military move. Also the fact that it is such a violent move will act as a deterrent for any remaining rebels who might think of trying to restart Zlatan’s movement. As well as to Fjerda and Shu Han, a this is what we do to our own people when they act against us so think about what we might do to you if you cross us, kind of deal. As for the innocent civilians that were in the city well I think the Darkling would convince himself that it was a numbers game. He might have killed hundreds of civilians but as far as he sees it he has spared thousands of lives that would have been lost if they had gone to war with West Ravka. By now the General knows the cost of war, so to him sacrificing a few hundred civilians is worth the price of saving thousands of his soldiers. Of course there is another motivation for the General, one that is less military strategy and more personal and emotionally driven. As Kaz says he was a man fuelled by vengeance. These soldiers standing on the dock had turned their back on Grisha and even worse than that they had tried to kill Alina. In the scene where The Darkling is talking to the Conductor and the Conductor admits to agreeing to assassinate Alina for a million kruge you can see how angry this makes The Darkling. This idea that someone would harm Alina for something as material as money is unforgivable to him. I said in a previous post that I wondered if the General always planned to expand the fold into Novokribirsk and I actually think the answer to that is no he didn’t. I actually think he was trying to make up his mind about what to do about Zlatan and his rebels, its possible he had a number of strategies to go with and was trying to decide which to choose, with expanding the fold being the most extreme of them. I actually think this here is the moment he decides to go with that plan. As he walks away from the Conductor and the Conductor asks ‘tell me how I can help’ The Darkling replies ‘you already have.’ I actually think what he meant here was you’ve helped me make up my mind. Them daring to harm Alina was the linchpin.         

Which brings me to the next part of this analysis, The Darkling’s manipulation and relationship with Alina. One of the great things the show did with the Darkling’s character was making him so complex and nuanced that the audience is in very much the same position as Alina when that reveal is made about Aleksander being the Black Heretic. Just like Alina (if you haven’t read the books) you are left sort of blindsided. Also just like Alina the audience is left wondering how much of it was a manipulation. Was all of it part of his manipulation? Or were there some moments that were real? Did he care at all about Alina or was he just interested in her power? 

Well I will say this, while I do think he always planned to manipulate her, I don’t think he ever planned or tried to use seduction as part of that manipulation. I think we have to remember that he was waiting for the Sun Summoner for hundreds of years and I think he spent that time creating his plan for her and her power. We also have to remember that when he was creating this plan he was expecting to find a child. I think his plan was to earn her trust as a mentor and build a confidence between them. I think he planned to bring her up with his ideals, to bring her up believing the best thing was to use the fold as a weapon, to bring her up to always want to protect the Grisha and to bring her up to embrace her power. However this whole plan had a wrench thrown in it when he does finally find Alina and she’s not a child, she’s a grown woman and one that has been taught her whole life that the Sun Summoner’s purpose is to tear down the fold. Changing the ideals and beliefs of an adult is alot harder to do than a child. On top of that I think he does develop real feelings for her. But these feelings get in the way of his plans, which makes everything all the more complicated for him.        

Lets go to the moment they first meet. I do think right from the get go he is intrigued by her and mean I think when you watch the scene you are so focused on Alina and what she must be going through and feeling, how scared she must be being dragged in front of this powerful General that she’s only ever heard stories about, that we don’t think about what this moment meant to the General. I mean he has been waiting for this woman for so long. She could be the solution to all of his problems, a fix for all of his mistakes. She has been his one glimmer of hope in the vast darkness of eternity. And now she’s here in front of him. Jessie said in an interview that Alina felt a connection to Aleksander right from the beginning, but I think he felt a connection to her too. I think you can even see the moment they make that connection and it’s when he takes her wrist in the tent.

Once he takes her wrist they never break eye contact even as he draws her sleeve up higher, their eyes are glued to each other. Then they both pause for a few beats and again just stare at each other.

The tension between them is so thick it almost makes you want to yell get a room at the screen. It’s like they both suddenly felt something click between them, a oh I know you, kind of moment. But I also feel like Aleksander is a bit surprised by this feeling, he wasn’t expecting it. They don’t break eye contact until The General cuts her arm releasing her power and causing her to look down in surprise. But almost immediately Alina brings her eyes back to his. One kind of cool little detail I did notice is that you can see the reflection of the beam of light in both their eyes.

It’s like a thread connecting them both, I don’t know why but it sort of reminds me of that red thread of fate legend. But also with them both having dark eyes the beam of light reflected in them sort of reminds me of yin and yang. The other thing of note is the General’s facial expression when he sees her power. Whilst everyone else is looking on is awe and surprise, he looks almost content, definitely happy and maybe even a bit hopeful. To me he kind of looks like he’s just had all his prayers answered. 

I think Kirigan is further intrigued by Alina in episode two when she talks back to him with that rant about maybe he hasn’t found anyone with her power because they didn’t want to be found. I think its the first time in a long while that anyone has stood up to him and not just said yes sir. I actually found it really comical how surprised he was when she said no to him. You just know he hasn’t heard that word much in recent lifetimes. But I do think this plants those first seeds of him seeing her as an equal to him. I think this is where he starts to see her as not someone to bow at his feet but someone who belongs at his side. Then when she confesses that she hid from the testers because she didn’t want to feel even more alone I think he really saw something of himself in her. I mean you can see his facial expression shift. I think this furthers his idea that she is meant to be at his side, that she is the same as him and I think even at this early stage he begins to hope that maybe she is someone who will understand him as no one else ever has. In that moment he is determined to make sure she doesn’t ever feel alone again and that is why he tells her ‘you are Grisha, you are not alone.’ You can see from the passion in his voice when he says it that this is something very personal to him. 

However despite this connection he feels to her and the care I think he has for her too, he does manipulate her. I think one of the more obvious manipulations happens in episode 4 when he takes her to the fountain. Something that is worth noting is that before setting out on their ride Aleksander takes off his Kefta. Their Keftas in the show are presented as their armour, so I think it was a very deliberate move on his part to sort of send the message to her, look I’m taking my armour off for you and I am being vulnerable and open to you. He furthers this by giving her his name to create this familiarity between them. Then he takes her to a place that is personal to him and then he really gets into his manipulation game. Here’s the thing though, I feel like most of the time when we think of manipulation we think of lies. But sometimes the best way to manipulate a person is through twisting the truth and I think this is what he does here. From their conversations so far I think he has figured out that Alina feels like an outsider and that she fears being alone and not fitting in. I definitely think he uses this information to manipulate her by telling her the story about how he used to go to the fountain as a boy after he discovered he was descended from the most hated Grisha in Ravka and wished to be anybody else. He knows that Alina will respond to this story, that it will make her feel sympathy for him and also make her feel like he is someone who understands her and therefore someone she can trust and rely on. He is also most definitely being deceitful in that he knows she thinks he is talking about being related to the Black Heretic when in fact he is the Black Heretic. However that doesn’t mean that what he said was untrue. I really do think he used to go there as a boy and wish to be someone else. As for being the descendant of the most hated Grisha in Ravka well my theory there is that he could actually be talking about Morozova. In the flashback in episode 7 Aleksander says that he and Baghra are his descendants and that means that if he created the amplifiers than Aleksander could create an army. Baghra gives the warning that Aleksander will die like Morozova. This makes me think that Morozova died in quite an unpleasant way, maybe even killed because he was feared and hated. I mean sure the Black Heretic is the most hated Grisha in all of Ravka now, but whose to say there wasn’t someone who came before him? Another Grisha who was hated like the Black Heretic is now. And maybe when Aleksander was a boy he discovered he was the descendant of Morozova and that was a burden on him, so much so that he wished he was someone else. 

I also think he was being genuine when he talked about how he is never seen as the solution only a reminder of the problem. I mean we’ve seen this ourselves in episode one its one of the first things we learn about him, that he can’t bring down the fold. I also think he’s being truthful when he says they always need someone to blame but again he’s twisting this truth. Alina thinks he means he is being unjustly blamed for not being able to fix the Fold but I think he actually is talking about how the Old King turned on him. I’m also sure over the years many people have blamed him and the Grisha for all the ills the world has suffered. But I do think he really meant it when he told her that he wouldn’t let the world make her the new Heretic. I think making sure that doesn’t happen is something he cares deeply about and I think it shows that he does have some care for her that he is so determined that she doesn’t go through what he did with the world turning on him. 

Slight diversion here but I do want to talk about whether or not this hatred the world has for him is justified, I mean he did create the fold and that fold has killed alot of people since its creation. So surely just the fact that he created the fold is enough to solidify him as the villain. Well I think that depends on why he created the fold. I mean we get three different versions of how and why the Fold was created. The first one we hear is in episode 4 when Alina tells us the story that is taught to children in school. They say that history is written by the victors, and whilst I personally don’t think there were any victors in the creation of the fold, The Black Heretic disappeared with its creation, presumed to be dead, so the Old King probably considered himself the victor and was left to decide the history. Therefore this story was most likely the Old King’s version of events. In this version of the story it talks about how the Darkling hungered for more power after being made the Kings military advisor and this made the king fear that the Darkling would try to overthrow him. So he put a bounty on his head and that of anyone who stood by him. Eventually the Heretic realised he was outnumbered and decided to create an army using forbidden science. But he failed, creating the fold and killing himself and countless others. The second version we get is from Baghra and it is similar to this one. She says that he created the Fold to use as a weapon, that he tried making an army with merzost and that he didn’t think about what that would do to the people who lived there, that it turned the men, women and children into the Volcra. That she had warned him there would be a price and that he didn’t listen. She also says that he took a noble’s name to hide after. Baghra’s version paints Aleksander as power hungry and as someone who will stop at nothing to get what he wants no matter the cost. But there are somethings I think its worth noting about her version. The first is that it is very brief, sort of like the cliff notes version, as they are in a hurry and she needs to get Alina out of there pronto. She doesn’t have time to go into all the details so she tells her enough to convince her to leave. Which brings me to my second point, Baghra’s motivation here is to get Alina to flee, so logically the best way to do that is to tell her the worst parts of the story and leave out anything that might make Alina feel sympathetic towards Aleksander and therefore hesitate about leaving. Another thing to remember is that Baghra whilst she might know somethings wasn’t there for a lot of it, she didn’t see Luda killed by the soldiers just knows that she was killed and she didn’t witness the confrontation between Aleksander and the soldiers. However what she did see likely had an effect on her. There is one moment in particular during Baghra’s story where she becomes emotional and choked up, there are tears in her eyes and you just know she is reliving a bad memory and that is when she talks about the women and children who were turned into the Volcra alongside the soldiers. Think for a moment about where Baghra was when the fold was created. She was inside the sanctuary with the women and children who were hiding from the soldiers. Which means that she would have witnessed them turning into the Volcra which must have been a horrifying scene. 

Eventually we get to episode 7 and we learn what really happened when the fold was created and the story is more tragic that first told. I mean first you have the whole situation with Luda. He obviously loved her deeply and I can only imagine how painful it must have been to see her murdered right in front of him and to feel that guilt of her dying because she was protecting him. I mean the words ‘just mortal’ now make me want to burst out crying anytime I hear them. Then he gets to the sanctuary and there’s all these Grisha there that need protecting. I think he feels a responsibility for them. Then his mother reminds him that they are not fighters, they make things. Which gives him the idea of creating an army using merzost. It is worth pointing out here that when telling the tale to Alina Baghra says that she warned Aleksander that there would be a price for using merzost, but when you actually see the conversation what she says is that whilst the small science feeds them merzost feeds on them. This suggests that the price to be paid is by him. So yes he was aware there would be a price but he assumed he would be the one paying it. I think if he knew that the people inside the sanctuary would be turned into Volcra he might not have gone through with it. This is another thing that makes the story even more tragic. Aleksander was driven to create his own army by his wish to protect his people, but he lost control and ended up destroying the very people he was trying so hard to protect. Another thing I noticed when Alina is telling the story of the heretic in episode four when she gets to the part about the Heretic being killed along with countless other you can hear what sound like screams in the background, also Aleksander looks really sad and guilty. It is also right after that he says he had devoted his life to undoing the great sin aka the creation of the fold. We see this look of guilt again when Alina confronts him in episode 7 about being the one to create the fold and therefore responsible for the deaths of her friends and parents. You see him look to the floor.

 I really do think that he has alot of guilt about the fold, he sees it as a mistake.  We see both Baghra and Alina make the claim, the fold was no mistake. But in episode 7 we learn that it was, Aleksander did not deliberately set out to create the fold. It wasn't his intention. It seems to me that he wanted to bend the will of the soldiers to his, to make them his own army, but I think he lost control due to the emotional state he was in at the time. I mean right before the soldiers were threatening to murder all the people inside, including his mother, and were mocking him about Luda’s death. He was grieving, he was angry and he was fearful for his people. We were told the fold was born out of greed but lets be real it was born out of grief and out of pain and anger and fear. 

So if he considers it such a big mistake why doesn’t he want to tear it down? Well I think its two fold. On one hand he might be afraid of what he’ll see. It’s like Kaz says to Zoya ‘it’s dangerous to go looking for the dead. What you see may haunt you for the rest of your days.’ Tearing down the fold will reveal all the destruction he caused to the land and to the people who lived there, he’d have to really confront what he did to his own people. But I think another motivator is what he said about undoing the great sin. I think he thinks if he makes the fold useful then at least it would have made the ‘deaths’ of his people mean something somehow. If creating the fold cost them their lives then maybe by making it a weapon that can be used to protect Grisha will make their ‘deaths’ a worthwhile sacrifice.

Ok so diversion over, lets go back to the Darklina relationship and how much of his actions were a manipulation. We’ve already established that he was being manipulative when taking her to the fountain and was telling her twisted truths. But if we stick with episode 4 there’s the scene where she comes to visit him at night in the war room. This whole scene I actually think he was being completely genuine. I don’t think any of it was part of his manipulation of her. First off is the way they are both dressed. They are both in their nightclothes which gives this idea of them being more intimate and more exposed to each other. I said above that the Kefta is seen as the Grisha’s armour, well here neither one of them are wearing their Kefta. They have both taken off their armour and are letting each other in. When Alina first finds him he is looking over the war map and you can see that he looks troubled, which you know fair enough considering he’s fighting a war on two fronts, having to deal with getting supplies through the fold and how to deal with the rebels. I love the way he looks at Alina when she comes in though, its just so soft and I feel like he feels instantly calmer when he sees her. But then he starts talking about how he’s been fighting the war alone and lost friends, about how their own people are turning on Grisha just as their kin once did and he is clearly thinking back to when the Old King was hunting him and his people. When the shadows start creeping in I think his pain is very real, I don’t think this was an act at all and once again if you listen closely you can hear those faint screams in the background. Then Alina dispels the shadows with her light and repeats his words back to him, ‘you are not alone.’ I think in this moment he truly does feel like he’s not alone. That he has found someone who understands him and who is his equal, who is like him. So he reaches out and cups her face and tells her he’s been waiting for her a long time. But then she pulls away and says she should go. I think Aleksander is afraid at this moment that he has frightened her away or that he misinterpreted the situation and he becomes very confused. So when she lingers at the door he goes to it and contemplates calling her back, just as she struggles with whether she should go back. But then she walks away and I think he thinks that maybe he was wrong and she doesn’t feel the same as him and he is a little angry with himself for losing focus and for feeling something for her and so he locks the door between them.  

Another question I asked myself was whether he always intended to put the stag collar on her and to control her powers. In my opinion this one has a bit of a yes and a no answer. I think he kept changing his mind. He clearly knew that by killing the Stag and putting the amplifier on her he would gain control of her powers. As I said early I think his first draft of the plan, shall we say, was to find the Sun Summoner as a child, to gain her trust as her mentor and teach her that the Fold is a weapon to be used as opposed to something that needs to be torn down. If he had found her as a child he would have had a lot more control over her and could shape her into what he wanted. However when they find the Sun Summoner she’s an adult and believes that its her fate to tear down the fold so he has to do a rework of his plan. On top of that he’s got this problem that she clearly doesn’t want to be the Sun Summoner she has no interest in saving anyone and she just wants to go back to being a mapmaker in the First Army. I think it is during that speech where she talks about him transferring her power to someone else that he starts to look into whether that is possible. But as he gets to know her more I think this changes again and he starts to feel things for her and I think he starts to believe that they want the same things and that maybe taking control of her powers won’t be necessary. I think the turning point for him is in episode 5. In the breakdown video of their first kiss Jessie says Alina goes to the General’s rooms because of what happened the night before in the war room where they had a moment in episode 4. Alina wasn’t sure what that moment meant and so she was seeking out Aleksander because she was intrigued and wanted to know if there was something there. Aleksander is once again clearly happy to see her but I do feel like there is some awkwardness there because of what happened in episode 4 and because he feels like he had misinterpreted things and maybe was too intense with her. It’s an interesting dynamic because as Jessie says in that video in this moment he is the vulnerable one. One moment in particular that I think shows this vulnerability is right after she helps him into his Kefta. Again going back to the whole the Kefta is armour thing. When Alina first enters the room like in episode 4 she is wearing her dressing gown she has come to him with her armour off so to speak. He is also out of his Kefta and this early conversation is playful where they are joking about Ivan and the Volcra. But after she puts the Kefta on him is when his mood shifts a little and you see him kind of tug the Kefta tighter around himself. I feel like he was trying to protect himself because the more time he spends with her the more vulnerable and confused he feels, he’s feeling alot of feelings he hasn’t felt in a long time and I think he knows by now that he is well on his way to falling in love with her and this scares him a bit because he has lost loves in the past. Him putting the Kefta back on is like him attempting to put that armour back on. There is another way of looking at it too though. It’s worth noting that on this occasion Alina is the one helping him put the armour/Kefta on, like she is the one giving him protection. Then he turns around Alina is alot closer then he anticipated and you can actually see him struggling to even form words. Then she leans in close to him like she's about to kiss him but changes her mind and walks into the other room leaving our poor guy more confused than ever. Then Alina makes the speech about how she finally feels like she is part of something bigger and that they can offer hope to the Grisha and to Ravkans. In this moment our girl was talking straight to our boy’s heart. I think this is all he has ever wanted to hear her say, especially the ‘we can offer hope.’ I think he really means it when he says it means a lot to him and you can hear the passion in his voice when he says ‘you mean a lot.’ Of course when she looks down he once again becomes afraid he’s overstepped, gone too far and so he tries to backtrack with ‘to everyone’. And well we all know what happens next. Alina kisses him and as he says after he is surprised and not many people do surprise him. I think there is something about this woman that just makes him lose all his senses until his whole world becomes about her. I feel like throughout episode 5 Aleksander feels like he’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted. Because maybe she does feel the same way he does, maybe she wants the same things he does, maybe he has found his life partner, another immortal who will always be by his side, finally he’ll never have to feel alone again. I think the moment I decided this fool was definitely in love with Alina was the look on his face when she enters the room and he sees her in his colours for the first time. After watching her demonstration I think he does see her as his equal. He’s in complete awe of her and the only time he looks away is to look at the Monarchs to see their reaction. Basically from the moment Alina kisses him to this moment where he is seeing her take command of the room and truly showing her power, having people bow to her, Aleksander is living his best life, he’s on cloud nine. 

Then he gets word that someone has located the stag. We don’t see the scene where he gets informed of this but you can imagine he probably can’t believe his luck. Not only are things perfect between him and Alina but now someone has found the amplifier. But I feel like he gets a bit of a reality check when he discovers that Mal is the one who found the stag and he’s now here in the Little Palace. I feel like Aleksander sort of came crashing down to earth here and realised he might have a bit of a problem. Once again he’s having to do a quick, rapid, rework of his plan. Which brings us to another moment where the Darkling is being manipulative. He uses Mal to find out what Alina’s favourite flower is. I mean I suppose you could argue that he’s only doing what every other person does when they want to get a gift for their crush and don’t know what would be best, ask the best friend. But all jokes aside this move was clearly calculative on The Darkling’s part. But I couldn’t help but wonder why he decided to use the Irises. What was his motivation here. It’s clear that he has already won Alina over seeing as she was kissing him not to long ago. Well I said earlier that I think he changed his mind about using the collar on her. I do think after their conversation in episode 2 where she talks about how she didn’t want any of it and could he transfer it he thought she was going to be a problem and difficult so maybe he should look into finding a way of controlling her power. In the beginning she was focussed on her old life and I feel like she didn’t have much loyalty or care for the Grisha, it took her awhile to accept who she was and she was also struggling to use her powers. All she wanted was to go back to Mal and I think this may be why, or at least part of the reason why The General takes their letters. For one he didn’t want her to go back to him and so making her think that Mal didn’t care would encourage her stay put and discourage any ideas of leaving. I mean given her comment in episode 3 where Alina asks Genya if anyone had ever escaped the Little Palace, which the General overheard, its not that surprising that he would decide to confiscate any of her correspondence out of the Palace in case she was organising a breakout with Mal. Secondly as I said she was having trouble using her powers and I think after reading the letters maybe he figures out that its because of Mal that she is struggling, so he either stopped the letters because he wanted her to continue feeling abandoned by Mal and therefore he was hoping she would shift her dependence onto him or because he knew if she let go of Mal then she would be able to control her power more and more power for Alina means more power for him to control. This was all very manipulative on his part and obviously not the actions of someone who cares about Alina’s feelings but at this point she wasn’t Alina to him she was the Sun Summoner, a tool to be used and he was thinking as a General who had people and a whole country to protect and if that meant putting the collar on this stranger then so be it. I think he set out to win her trust to make it easier for him to put that collar on her when the time came. But then as he got to know her more, started catching feelings for her and after their conversation in episode 5, I think he decided that maybe he wouldn’t need to use the collar after all. My theory is that he got her the flowers and he took her to the war room instead of the dinner because he was planning to tell her some of the truth. I don’t think he was going to tell her about who he really was and about him being the Fold’s creator but I do think its possible that he intended to tell her about the Stag and maybe even try to convince her about using the Fold as a weapon. So I think he just wanted to put her in as good a mood as he could if that makes sense, sweeten her up before he brought it up. Also telling her about the Stag means telling her about Mal. I think he actually felt a little threatened by Mal because having read their letters he knows how she feels about Mal. So he wants her attention as much on him as possible. I think he very much felt like his dream was slipping away. As for the make out on the war table moment, that could have also been an attempt to keep her sweet on him like the irises. But as I’ve said before Aleksander seems to lose all his senses when he’s with Alina. When he’s with her the only thing he’s focused on is her, and I personally think it was just a case of he really wanted to kiss her. Some of it might also have been to reassure himself that those feelings between them were real, especially now that Mal has shown up. I mean they are both so giddy and happy when they break apart for him to answer the door that I find it difficult to believe that the whole kiss was a cold manipulation, he was grinning like a school boy. My favourite kiss between them (as steamy as their make out session was) was actually the one where he comes back to kiss her one last time. This is right after he has learnt that she was the target of an attack that happened inside of his Palace, which is the one place where his people are supposed to be safe. I think in that moment he just needed to reassure himself that she is safe, you can see his desperation in the kiss. There was just something so soft and pure about it. If I am sure about anything is that one was definitely real, I may have small doubts about the other kisses but that one kiss was 100% true.   

Things only get worse for Aleksander in episode 6 when he realises that Alina is missing. I think how he behaves in this episode tells us alot about how he really feels about Alina. He becomes somewhat unhinged when she goes missing and only becomes more so the longer she is gone from him. His sole focus is on her and finding her, to the point where he kind of forgets about anything else as we see when Fedyor comes to report about Nina, The General has completely forgotten there were other missions and things he was dealing with. Later when he calls Zoya to tell her to prepare a team to track down ‘Alina’s abductors’ and she puts forward the suggestion that Alina ran by herself, he doesn’t even consider it a possibility. The idea that she would willingly leave him is just too hard for him to wrap his head around because as he says to Zoya he is sure he knows exactly how she feels. He is usually the composed, unfazed General but he very much snaps at this moment and I think reveals more than he intended to Zoya, who clearly looks surprised by his outburst. He even says himself with Alina gone he’s not himself, he’s feeling unbalanced and tense without her. So when Zoya offers to help him relax he tells her that he’ll relax when he has Alina. I think its important as well that he says Alina and not the Sun Summoner. It’s not the Sun Summoner he’s lost without its Alina. When he finally catches up with Kaz and is told that Alina fled on her own you can see how shocked he is at this.

 And even then he has trouble believing it because he once again asks where she is and its not until the line ‘It was pretty clear she wasn’t interested in being a captive any more’ that it begins to set in for him and you see his shadows creep in. After you can see the heartbreak set in and then the anger.

 This anger only grows when he learns that she is with Mal and that she is going after the Stag. I think he very much feels like everything has been snatched away from him in a blink of an eye. I think he is angry that he was blindsided by it and he’s angry that he let his feelings for her cloud his judgement and distract him from his plans. Because of his feelings for her he might now have ruined all his plans and, as he would see it, risked the safety of the Grisha in doing so. Naturally its back to plan A of forcing the collar on her, because no matter how he feels about her he can’t let that distract him from his mission to protect the Grisha again. 

However no matter how angry he is at her and how hurt is is that she ran from him, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about her. I see alot of arguments that he can’t have loved Alina because you can’t hurt someone you love like he did when he put the collar on her. But I’m calling BS on that one now because the people you love are the people who can hurt you the most, especially when they are hurt or angry. It doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t love you it just means they are human and make mistakes. However that doesn’t mean you should tolerate those mistakes or brush them under the rug, absolutely they should be called out for them and held accountable for them and I am really glad that Alina does do this. The Darkling's anger at her is what drives him to find her and to kill the stag himself so he can collar her and I think this anger builds up whilst he is away from her, again showing how unhinged he has become without her. But I feel like some of that anger ebbs away a bit when he does find her and once she is in front of him again. That moment when he finds her and the stag and Mal is hurt and he calls out to her that she can’t save them, that as powerful as she is she does not have the power to heal. He is obviously thinking back to Luda here. Because as powerful as he was he was not powerful enough to save her, in that moment he was utterly powerless to keep her from dying. I think despite how hurt he is he cares about her too much to watch her go through the same pain and grief he did which is why he offers to heal Mal if she gives him the Stag. The similarities between the two scenes (the one with Alina, mal and the Stag and the one with Aleksander, Luda and the king’s men) are clear and I think really have an effect on Aleksander. I think when he says that Mal was only protecting Miss Starkov there are two interesting points. One is the use of the term Miss Starkov. This is a name he mostly called her when they barely knew each other and I think he is trying to distance himself from her again by making things more formal between them. The other thing is that it draws a parallel between both Mal and Luda. Both Mal and Luda were just trying to protect the people they love and Aleksander clearly doesn’t think either one of them deserved to die for it so he lets Mal live. 

Another scene I want to talk about real quick is the one right before he puts the collar on her. This scene is eerily similar to when they first meet. Once again they are back in a tent. Once again the scene starts with the Darkling’s back to her and with Alina in the hands of a guard/s. I said before that I think alot of the reason why he decides to collar her is because she doesn’t share his views and he feels like he needs to control her so he can weaponize the fold and save his people. That he was angry at himself for believing she might be his equal and share his goals. I think this scene where he talks to her shows that. The fact that he lowers himself to her level I think shows that he does see her as an equal. Then he talks about how together they could end all wars and protect their own and asks isn’t that what she wants. I think he is still clinging to that belief that he wasn’t wrong and that they did want the same things and maybe some part of him was still hoping he might not need to use the collar. But then she asks if they are going to tear down the fold and you can see the disappointment on his face because he understands now that she won’t see it his way. So instead he deflects the question and I think this is the moment that cements his choice to collar her.  

Further evidence that he does still care about Alina comes when he puts the collar on her. This is obviously a very distressing and gruesome scene. What he is doing is obviously wrong and I think deep down he knows it too. He can’t bear to look at her as it happens and so her turns away and its the second time he does as he also looks away in guilt when he threatens Mal. I don’t think he can handle her looking at him like he’s a monster and he can’t cope with seeing the betrayal and hurt in her eyes. It is also worth noting that I think part of the reason why he goes through with putting the amplifier on her is like he said to Mal, he thinks that over the years she will come to forgive him. Now this conversation where he talks about how she might take years to forgive him but he had patience also tells us that the fact that he is hoping for forgiveness shows that he knows what he is doing to her is wrong, that it is something that will require forgiveness. When he comes to see her later in her tent, can we just talk for a moment how nice that tent was, I mean he really went all out for her with lace and flowers like he somehow thought that would make up for him fusing a antler into her collar bone, but again even the fact that he gives her all these nice things shows that he wants that forgiveness and the way he approaches her as well is cautiously, like you would a wounded animal. He knows he’s hurt her and made her angry so he comes in with sweet words of compliments, telling her how special she is, and very quickly comes to know that she’s not having any of it. I mean that look she gives him when he first comes in, if looks could kill he’d be six feet under now. But I really do think he did go to her just because he wanted to talk to her, despite his words to Mal about having the patience to wait however many years it will take for her to forgive him, he wants to fix things between them now. He doesn’t want her to be angry with him and he doesn’t want her to be in pain. He’s desperate to get back what they had in episode 5. Also I think its important that we remember that until that conversation with her in the tent he didn’t know that she had discovered who he really was, so when she ran he believed that she had ran because she wanted to be with Mal which I think contributed to his anger at her and his feeling of betrayal. He couldn’t understand why she would want to be with someone who he believes never appreciated who she really was and who is mortal and will eventually just be a blip in her very long lifetime, instead of being with him who is her equal and immortal like her. This is another occasion where I feel like he gets a bit of a reality check and realises that she didn’t run because of Mal, she ran because of his own lies. So all that anger he felt at her ‘betrayal’ was unjust. But then I think he feels a different sense of betrayal in how easily she believed Baghra. I mean looking at it from his point of view she didn’t come to him and ask for his side of the story or demand an explanation she just trusted Baghra and ran. He is clearly desperate to make her understand and you can see his composure begin to fail as he stands and tells her that everything he is ever done has been to make Grisha and Ravka safer. I really do think that line was true, he really does believe that what he’s doing is the right thing for his people and his country. You can feel his frustration and desperation continuing to build throughout the scene as he pretty much pleads with her to understand and can see that she doesn’t. I think the part that really hurts him though is when she says ‘we could have had this, all of it. You could have made me your equal, instead you made me this.’ This line is so powerful and I think its at this moment that he realises just how badly he has messed up. To be told that his actions are the reason why he hasn’t got her, the one thing he wants more than anything else in the world right now. Also the line of making her his equal I think would have hit him hard because he did see her as his equal and so I think he’s surprised that she believes that he didn’t make her his equal and then when she says ‘instead you made me this’ he realises that whilst he might have seen her as his equal he wasn’t treating her as one. His need for control made her a slave to him and I really think that in this moment he is realising that, I genuinely think this dumbass got so caught up in his own dream of what the two of them together could be that he didn’t realise that whilst he thought he was protecting her and helping her grow into this saviour for their people he was taking away her choices and he was making her feel like a captive, the dummy didn’t think to ask how she felt about any of it because he assumed he already knew, it was the same as what he wanted, to protect their country and people. So his anger when he says the line ‘fine make me your villain’ isn’t just directed at her but himself too. It’s not just his hurt and anger that she doesn’t understand his reasons and that she isn’t seeing it his way, it’s also because he knows it was his own actions that lead him to that moment when the woman he loves is standing in front of him and looking at him like he is a monster. He can’t go back and he can’t undo it and worse than that he can’t seem to get her to understand why he did it. I think he feels trapped and so the only thing he can be to her now is her villain. 

It’s after this conversation that his demeanour towards her changes and you can see that he sort of stops trying to win her over. He’s not as gentle with her, I mean he ties her to the deck of the skiff and answers mockingly when she points out it’s not a good look for him with the ambassadors. I did notice though that after that conversation he seems to have trouble looking at her. When they are walking to the skiff and he tells her that Mal is being held captive and will be released if she does her part, he isn’t looking at her but straight ahead and this is something he does alot when he is threatening Mal. The moment when he takes off her cloak he does glance down at her. I seen alot of debate about that scene, as it does come across as having a bit of sexual tension in it and some people thought it was a rather sexy scene whereas others pointed out that he was holding her captive and mocking her. Me personally I actually think its both. People talk about how it has to be one or the other. But yes in that scene he is holding her captive and that part’s not sexy but there is a moment where I feel like he still feels that draw to her. Before reaching up to undo her cloak it seems to me like a hesitates for a moment. When he goes to whisper in her ear that he doubts they’ll notice her feet and I think he feels that pull and that attraction to her and he is really close to her, I don’t think he’s been that close to her since the war room in episode 5. You can see him lean slightly towards her and I think he really is struggling with the desire he feels for her which is why he steps back with the cloak rather forcefully, like he's having to force himself away from her again. It kind of reminded me of the scene where she helped him into his Kefta. So no the situation itself is not sexy but I do still think there is tension in the scene because the attraction they feel for each other didn’t just disappear despite how hurt and angry they are at each other. It’s like their words are saying one thing but their body language is saying another. 

When they are in the Fold again at first The Darkling avoids looking at her particularly when he is forcing her to use her power to create the tunnel of light. His focus is on The Fold. Again I think this shows that he is determined to not let his feelings for her get in the way for his goals, yet he knows he is taking away her free will and her choice and that’s hurting her so he can’t really stand to look at her. Its the same when she asks to tear down the fold and he answers why would they destroy the best weapon they have. Again he doesn’t look at her when he says it because he knows that he deceived her by letting her believe that was what they were going to do and he doesn’t want to see the disappointment and betrayal in her eyes. Again this is something he does alot and look, I love The Darkling’s character, I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t recognise his flaws and for me I kind of saw him as a coward for this. I mean if you are going to deceive and manipulate a person and force them to do something you know they don’t want to do, then at least have the decency to look at them. He does however look at her when she tries to save Novokribirsk after he lets the fold consume it. He stops her and you can see the anger when he says they are traitors who tried to kill her and that this action was retribution. I think he hates the fact that she is trying to save the very people who tried to hurt her. But again he looks away from her when he sees the way she is looking at him and how horrified she is by what he has done. 

Their very last interaction is when she uses the dagger to cut the amplifier from his hand and shows him what she is and that she’s the one the stag chose. He sees this as her betraying their people which is interesting because at the end of the episode Alina says that Kirigan turned on his own people. So they both believe the other turned on their own people, the problem here is that I feel like Alina feels more loyalty towards the non Grisha Ravkans, she still sees them as more her people due to spending more time as just a ordinary mapmaker then as Grisha but the Darkling has more loyalty towards the Grisha. Its like how you know parents aren’t suppose to have a favourite child but we all know they do. Well I feel like the Ravkans are Alina’s favourite child and the Grisha are the Darkling’s. Of course they still care about the other but their ‘favourite’ is their priority if that makes sense. By the end of the season when we see the Darkling emerge from the fold I think he is feeling very angry and very betrayed by Alina, however I actually think the fact that she bested him has only made him look at her as even more of an equal than before. Not only is she someone who will stand up to him but now she has become someone who can match him. I do think he’s in this very complicated situation where he is on an opposite to the person he believes is essentially his soulmate. However as much as I think he does love her I still think he will put his people above her and so will continue to act in what he considers to be the best interests of his people. It also seems like he’s got some new powers and was able to create shadow soldiers which again is interesting because he basically just accomplished what he meant to do in the first place when he created the fold, he’s created his own army. 

Ok so that’s all for now to be honest I could talk about the Darkling forever but I think this is already long enough so if you have read all the way to the end thank you for your time. I am thinking of doing other character analysis posts so keep an eye for that if its something that interests you, I think I might do Alina next. I’ll also post my thoughts on the book once I’ve read it.        

[fernsplaysthings]

Well, I sort of said it was a thing. Not working from any one list or intending to do all prompts, or even anything in any order. So here’s some Kestral/Crow in which Kestral realises they have a goddam praise kink. Because Kinktober exists.

Although not wildly explicit, it’s still smut. Rated M and all that.

Be gentle with me.

In all the perpetuation of the damned, years old stereotype of the Young Wolf - untouchable, invincible, so far removed from the average person - Kestral had somewhat forgotten that somewhere between all those things that they were still in fact, unfortunately, a person. A person that was extremely desperate for touch, was utterly destructible, and loathed the pedestal they’d been placed upon after the Red War. And yet despite it all, despite their needs and because it’d seemed right, they’d kept so many people at arm’s length, fought even when they felt like dying, and wanted to be loved so damn badly.

And then along came a lover - soulmate, maybe - in the most twisted, fucked up way they could’ve ever imagined and within months he’d somehow ruined the carefully maintained image and distance they’d upheld. Not on purpose, probably without even realising, but damn it all if Crow hadn’t waltzed in, shone a glaring spotlight on the humanity that they’d hid supposedly for the rest of eternity, in all their darkest corners and with the utmost care coaxed it into the warmth like a hungry little stray in an alleyway.

Remembering that they needed affection was humiliating.

Realising that the hollowness and the craving they’d felt for years was easily filled by a benevolent touch had almost brought them to tears at least once.

Crow hadn’t minded. He’d felt the same and it had hurt immensely when he’d voiced it.

But it’d become easier to remember to be a person, at least around Crow. The embarrassment had all but dissolved. No more humiliation. Accepting affection and giving it in return was as easy as breathing with him. There was however, one thing though and Crow had been delighted at finding it.

It’d long passed working hours, the H.E.L.M had cleared out and Kestral was alone at the wartable with a datapad full of reports they’d needed to check up on throughout the day. Besides the very occasional clank of machinery from the Eliksni wing and the soft hum of the portal in the Awoken wing they were fairly sure they were by themself, stood hunched over the table with images and words scrolling by with the swipe of their hand.

Either they’d been completely enraptured with the detailed analysis of the debris that remained from the cataclysmic events of the Deep Stone Crypt that sat before them or they were just so zoned out that the arms that embraced them from behind and the hot breath on the back of their neck had made them jump. Crow chuckled at their jolt and pressed semi-apologetic kisses to the nape of their neck and over to their ear, tugging the shell with his teeth so gently.

“Evening, beautiful,” he laughed under his breath, “You’re working late.”

Kestral huffed out their breath and smiled broadly, confident that Crow had made plans to whisk them away from the wartable no matter what, and leaned back against him, head tilted as he moved to continue with their ear and neck.

“I am,” they sighed, “And I’ll be working even later if you continue to be a professional distraction.”

The same chuckle that had always turned their insides to warm goo whispered by their ear, “What can I say? I’ve missed you. When you weren’t at the apartment I wondered where you were.”

“Unfortunately, doing my job.”

“Hm, you’re such a good girl.”

Kestral couldn’t possibly have reacted quickly enough to choke back the needy sound that had escaped their lips on hearing Crow’s words, their face flushed so deeply red so quickly, guts clenching, body suddenly taking on a tremble. Perhaps he hadn’t…

Yeah, he had. He’d noticed and either out of instinct or desire he’d pulled them flush to him, his chest to their back, burying his face in the crook of their neck and breathing deeper by the second.

“I’m...so sorry. I don’t know...I’ve no idea where that came from...I…”

The sharp exhale at their neck, at the soft point behind their ear, and the hot open mouthed kiss sweetly bruising their skin told them that Crow didn’t mind one bit and that while he’d definitely arrived hoping to initiate some kind of intimacy for the evening what he’d probably not expected was the high chance that the pair were not going to make it back to the apartment. Or...out of the H.E.L.M. Not that this seemed to dissuade him, hands gripping Kestral’s hips while his mouth and teeth marked them.

“Was it...was it the ‘good girl’ thing because I can keep that up.”

They’d almost managed to swallow the groan this time, nodding and placing both of their hands flat against the wartable to steady themself from the pressure of Crow behind them, pressing them between himself and the surface in front. He rested one of his hands beside their’s, finding the comfortable position that Kestral liked with his body fitting against theirs, the other hand roaming along their hip to their lower belly, holding them tightly back against the increasingly obvious evidence that he was enjoying this just as much as they were.

“Fuck, OK good,” he breathed out harshly, fumbling their belt and the buckles with the non-supporting hand, “Because you’re amazing Kestral and if saying it aloud turns you on then that’s just a bonus, right?”

They couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, Crow’s over eager attempts to undress them, his excitement at finding new things to please his lover, the fact that the lightest praise from him went straight to their head. Deciding to end his suffering they turned and perched up on the edge of the wartable, legs dangling slightly. Crow wasted exactly a heartbeat before his mouth found theirs and both hands worked free their breastplate and cloak.

“Are you completely sure you wanna do this on the wartable?” they asked between harsh, desperate open mouthed kisses, “What if…”

“Completely sure. Not like it’s the first time…”

His sentence was cut short by Kestral’s teeth on his lower lip, their hands searching below his belt and tugging fastenings loose. Within seconds their legs were wrapped around his waist, thighs gripping his hips now flush with theirs.

“Say something else.”

Their whispered voice shook just a little with the effort of keeping quiet, something Crow was also decidedly having issues with as he shifted slowly against them.

“You feel incredible,” he sighed, swallowing their groan with a heated kiss, “I love you.”

They’d have returned the sentiment if the soft cry hadn’t slipped out first in response to Crow wrapping his arms firmly around them and picking up a pace. Their own arms held on around his neck as they muffled their rapidly increasing sounds, whimpers and groans of his name, in his shoulder, his desperate mantra of ‘good girl, you’re doing so well’ reaching their ears and fogging their brain.

Much to each of their surprise it was over just as quickly as it’d started, Crow with his face buried against Kestral’s neck and panting, Kestral biting down on the meat of their hand to stifle their noises, the other hand fisted in Crow’s hair. 

Eventually he’d untangled himself from the Hunter on the wartable, done his best to make himself presentable and helped them redress as much as they cared to in their pliant, jelly-like state all the while sharing in gently bumped foreheads, noses nuzzled to cheeks, and sweet, slow kisses that lingered until Kestral’s senses returned enough for them to pull back and smile at him.

“You’re wearing most of my lipstick, love.”

Swiping his sleeve over his face and ignoring the streak of vibrant red it left up his arm, he chuckled and cupped their face in the way he knew they loved, using his thumb to wipe away the smears of makeup that had escaped from their lips too. They at least needed to appear to have been working late in case someone happened to be around as they left. Not that their relationship was particularly secret anymore, but Crow could do without the Vanguard finding out about the inappropriate usage of the wartable.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “Think you can pack up and come home now?”

“That ship has long since flown,” they hopped down off the table, fluffing up their cloak collars to cover the fresh marks Crow had made, slipping a hand into his, “How am I meant to concentrate on space garbage analysis after that? I’ll finish it tomorrow.”

[vercopaanir]

One Day

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 26

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: After leaving Nevarro, the covert, and the two additions to your clan behind, the Mandalorian sets out on acquiring the bounty that will free the child from Imperial hands. The coordinates and tracking fob take you to an icy planet, and the bounty proves not to be the most dangerous part of the hunt.

Rating/Warnings: T, brief sexual themes

Words: 5.6k

Notes: Thank you all so much for allowing me space and time during a pretty stressful and emotional period. I really appreciate it. While it’s not over by any means, your continued encouragement and support means the world to me, and I’m so happy to give back to you with this story. I hope it continues to make you happy!

AO3

A leather gloved hand touches the back of your neck, and you flinch so violently that you knock a holopad off the shopkeeper’s counter. Din yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned, growing still at your reaction. Your face crumples when you realize you have once again floated away from the present, tangled in dreams that won’t leave while you wake and grief that won’t be shaken. You apologize profusely to the clearly annoyed vendor, kneeling down to gather the holopad and return it to its place on the counter that boasts the finest leathers and fabrics in the weapons shop. You don’t even remember what drew your interest over in the first place.

“Cyare?”

You turn, feeling forlorn and dejected to face the armored man who holds a securely wrapped infant in one arm, his other hand hanging low near his holstered blaster. You blink up into the dark glass of his visor, a small sigh leaving you. He handled you as if you were made of glass, of porcelain, and you feel like he might be right.

“Would you like to sit while I finish here?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s hardly louder than a rasp.

You nod meekly, taking the baby when he passes the child into your arms, and one hand touches your back to lead you to a small bench in the corner of the store. He hovers while you get comfortable, shifting the child so he is tucked beneath your cloak. Having few clothes to begin with, and fewer still after your favorite dress was torn on Canto Bight, Din had bought you new clothing. A thick, fur lined cloak that is almost too heavy graces your shoulders, but it is so delightfully warm and soft you loathe to take it off even indoors.

He watches you for a moment while you pull the cloak firmer around your shoulders before nodding hesitantly down toward you. He only turns when you try your best to smile, making his way back to finish his bargain for ammunition.

You had left Nevarro two days ago, stealing away in the hours before dawn when the world slept on and time moved like sap down the bumpy bark of a tree. You had been so exhausted, so heavy in your heart that Din had to pry you away from the mumbling, sleeping children when you had whispered your goodbyes. Corde had been excited for your adventure, as she called it, wanting to hear everything upon your return. Venka had hugged you until it nearly grew too much, but that morning, they had been too sleepy to truly be sad, something you were thankful for. Din carried you halfway when your knees buckled from exhaustion, and you had slipped into a tearful rest with the child in his bed.

No amount of sleep helps, though. You know through rationality that leaving Corde and Venka in the care of the covert, under the protection of Paz Vizla is the wisest choice. You could not live if either of them were hurt because of your selfishness, but you did not consider how much you would mourn how silent the ship is now, how lonely it feels, how complex and different your lives became when they clung to your skirts or the Mandalorian’s arms.

You have not left Din’s side, fully aware of how needy you are to follow him around like a lost kitten when he tinkers beneath a panel or goes into the hull to retrieve a tool. He says nothing to deter you, seeming just as listless as you, but you almost wish he would. You think it would be better if he spoke harshly, snapping you back into place like a fractured bone.

The baby seems even worse off. He sits at your feet, his petal shaped ears hanging dolefully as he rolls his durasteel ball against the wall so it will bounce back toward him, a sad and sorry replacement for his playmates. He turns his large, watery eyes up to you, and you scoop him up, not realizing how close to tears you are yourself. The two of you perch on either co-pilot seat at all hours, seeking the closeness your Mandalorian brings even with his back to you, piloting the ship through asteroid belts and over rings of different planets.

The University of Sanbra Guide to Intelligent Life is balanced on your knees, your soft-shoed feet propped up on one of the control panels so the baby can lean back against you more comfortably, and you read aloud to him and Din most hours, filling the ever encroaching silence with your voice until you’re hoarse.

When you’re not in the cockpit, you are in the hull practicing with your staff. You find old, busted holsters that Din doesn’t use and fashion them into a grip that you fit on the middle of the tool, protecting your hands while you grow used to the new reach you have. It takes time getting accustomed to opening and closing the staff, but soon you are flicking your wrist and unsheathing the beskar like a saber, which fills you with an undeniable excitement.

The first night, during dinner, you are tapping the staff against the floor of the hull while you explore the newly cleared out space. It gives you a clearer perspective of how wide the ship is, and Din is eating in the corner, sitting with his legs crossed and watching you. The child is busy reaching up for his plate, which Din must hold up in the air so the baby won’t eat so much he makes himself sick. Again.

“What happened to your first walking stick?” At your pause, you hear him clear his throat behind you. “I heard you say it was taken.”

“Walking aid,” you corrected lightly, tapping your staff’s end along the metal wall. It has a more hollow sound against the ramp, you find, than the reinforced sides of the hull, and you smile to yourself at this discovery. You explore this area, tapping lightly and muttering, “I was clumsy, broke too much with it. The Moff snapped it in half over his knee.”

He says nothing in reply, but later that night you notice, when you are grasping his shoulders desperately, astride him as he holds you so tightly against his chest, muttering Mando’a in your ear, that he has given your staff a place of honor beside his helm. Never far out of reach.

But sleep still does not come easy. It is a battle, fueled only by nightmares of a boot upon your cheek and the child crying. You wake in the night, bullets of sweat slipping past your eyebrows and down your neck, only fairly remorseful to rouse Din by your restlessness. He assures you the child is asleep, curled beneath blankets in his pram, but you don’t deny yourself the haunted memory of having heard him cry. You half expect to find a footprint upon your cheek when you wake again, or a back broken upon a beskar helmet.

Your dreams draw your conscience away from the present too often, enough to concern your lover who already has the world pressing down on his shoulders. You suck in a breath, shifting on the bench in the shop and pressing your cheek to the top of the baby’s head.

The intelligence given to Din when he received the fob for his bounty pinpointed the quarry on an icy, remote planet in the Hoth system. Not only would it take superior tracking skills, but neither you nor the child are prepared for the environment. He elected to stop at a small town on a moon he’d visited previously, not just to overstock his weapons’ locker but to supply you and the child with your new warmer clothing.

The bounties he collected on the Ivalice brothers had made him a wealthy man for a short time, he assured you whenever you hesitate to tell him you like something he might gift you. You are unused to being spoiled, with affection or material goods, but it seems to come more naturally to Din the longer you share his space and time. It is a queer and strange thing, seeing more of his personality when you had once only thought him to be cold and unfeeling, and it leads you to ruminate on this compassionate man beneath the armor you have grown to love handling, affixing to his body each morning and relieving him of it each night.

As you sit in the shop and listen to the vendor haggle prices, you feel the cold creeping through the windows, chilling you until you grow tired again. The child grows lethargic as well, his ears drooping and his eyes weighing heavy as he nuzzles close to your body heat. It occurs to you that perhaps his natural habitat is far removed from the ones you visit, and you wish to know more of his species, of his home. Din had told you that once, he was going to try and find the child’s people back when you were newly boarded to the Razor Crest and still shy around such a fierce warrior as a Mandalorian, but neither of you had spoken of it since.

The idea leaves you so sick, you have to actively push it away.

The thought of being separated from the child brings tears to your eyes, and you are swallowing the cries working their way up your chest when a warm, gloved hand rests on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Din kneels down quickly in front of you, helmet shining from the light in the shop windows, and you close your eyes against the glare, shaking your head helplessly.

The weak feeling of so many tears leaves you cross with yourself. Surely he feels some semblance of the grief you carry, and it’s not fair for you to languish in it while he’s shouldering through every task and chore to take up this job. You breathe deeply and sniffle, opening your eyes again with more resolve.

“I-I’m being stupid,” you mutter, your thumb tracing a wrinkle on the baby’s head. You wear gloves now too, dove grey and softer than his, another gift that accompanied your cloak. Din’s visor doesn’t stray from you, even when the vendor is shifting to eavesdrop out of your periphery. You clear your throat. “Are you finished?” you ask quietly.

He nods, slow to stand as if he fear you might tip forward. Tugging the cloak around you against the chill, he helps you to your feet and the three of you set out into the town. Misty, cold rain dances in the air above dirty, mud trodden streets, and you blink whenever it crystallizes on your lashes or dusts your cheeks. The baby sneezes when the mist tickles his ears, and when Din laughs at you both, you can’t help the smile it brings.

It is a welcome distraction from your sadness, from your nightmares, and you slip your free arm through his elbow, ignoring the sheathed staff that is affixed to the sash around your waist beneath the cloak. Somehow, even now, he is a surer and steadier anchor than beskar.

The town is built up, wooden and stone structures creating a city more than a town, filled with lumber workers and animal trappers. It has a rustic quality that you did not expect for a bustling enterprise hub, and when a medcenter comes into view, conspicuous by its many windows and telltale red stripe above the threshold, you come to a sudden stop.

“I-I need something,” you say suddenly, blushing high in your cheeks. Din turns to you, curiously tilting his head when you pass the baby into his arms. You shuffle the cloak tighter around you, glancing nervously up at his shadow against the grey, overcast winter sky.

“Alright.” His words hold no small amount of wariness. You purse your lips, understanding he isn’t going to be leaving you for this, and you sigh, gesturing towards the building. He glances between your destination and you, shrugging his pauldrons lightly, and when he speaks again, you think you hear a smile on his face. “...are you still shy?”

The blush unfurls in blatant heat, and you look away. Truthfully, you don’t think you won’t ever not be shy about such things. Dealing with your cycle, both as an indentured servant and slave, was one of the only times you were allowed privacy to yourself. You consider that, while you have shared your heart and mind and body with this man, he has never truly denied you anything. If you truly wish for him to wait outside, he will honor that.

“Do you wish me to change my nature?” you ask, shifting to remove your beskar from beneath the cloak. With a quick flick of the wrist, it stands beside you, allowing you to displace your weight properly and stand a little taller. “I don’t know if I can. I am modest in all ways of life.”

Din chuckles, following you through the sliding metal doors, but his quiet whisper behind your ear nearly has you skidding to a stop. “You are not always so timid with me, Mesh’la .”

When you turn to narrow your pale gaze at him, he is retreating to a corner of the lobby, folding himself in a chair and looking utterly unbothered.

Huffing, you walk up to the counter, speaking with the female alien quietly about needing a new implant. She takes you into an examination room, and you wait patiently for a doctor, unsure now that you are alone. This town is bigger, richer than Quanera, where you had access to a small-town doctor who administered your injection quickly and quietly. There had been no fuss. This time, the doctor who comes in takes your vitals, your blood, and your heart rate climbs as she glances at her holopad with a smile.

“Nervous?” she asks. She is a Twi’lek with deep blue coloring, and you think that her eyes are gold and very kind. “Your pulse is jumping a bit.”

“I’ve only seen a doctor once,” you confess, thinking of your examination upon purchase as a slave. You resist shuddering, curling your hands in your lap. “It’s...it’s been about six months since I received my implant.”

“That is the correct time length,” the doctor agrees, turning to her cabinet and opening the sterilized pouches with pristine gloves. “You’re very responsible to remember.”

The thought of what would happen should you forget makes your blood run cold for a moment. You have not truly thought of your body beyond a vessel, but since Kuiil extracted your chip, you have begun to appreciate things about yourself you had never paid attention to. Making choices like what clothes to cover yourself with (or not), how long or short you could wear your hair-such small things, you think, now make you feel ordinary. It is unfamiliar and altogether pleasant. Being able to go to bed with a man, with anyone of your choosing, had not been a possibility to you before.

Now, imagining having your body overtaken by something like a new life fills you with sickness in the pit of your stomach, feels like being stolen from.

But, at the same time, after the brief moment has passed, you think of being able to lay a hand on your belly and what Din’s blurry visage might look like if you spoke those words to him.

One day , you decide with resolution, rolling up your sleeve and presenting your arm happily to the doctor.

When you exit the examination room, you find the lobby empty. Your heart drops to your stomach, trying desperately to squint and hoping you have missed a shadow or shade that might be the Mandalorian, and you use your staff to tap against the edge of the counter, putting a hand out to steady yourself.

“Excuse me?” you begin to ask the nurse droid, but in that same moment, the Mandalorian strides back inside through the sliding metal doors, calling your name.

Relief washes over you, and you hold your hand out to his glove when he grabs your fingers, a grin on his face beneath the helmet from the sound of his voice. “Come look,” he says breathlessly. You notice the baby is wide awake now, ears perked high from beneath the blanket he is swaddled in, and you allow yourself to be led outside to find something remarkable.

“W-What is it?” you ask when you see that it no longer rains, shying back beneath the building’s covering, but Din gently leads you out into the cold street where other people have stopped to exclaim and point with excitement.

“Snow,” he says, glancing at you as you hold out your hand where wispy flurries begin melting on your covered palm. It’s so light, dancing in the air and never seeming to truly land anywhere. You can’t quite see it, only when it’s low enough or right in front of your face, and you sneeze when a few of the flakes tickle your nose.

The baby suddenly squeals with laughter, reaching his own tiny three fingered hand up to try to catch the delicate, fluffy flakes. You can feel the cold melting on your cheeks, dripping down your neck and beneath your clothes. Din reaches over and uses the back of his fingers to brush it away.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” you say gently, holding out your palm towards the sky. The beskar staff grows colder, begins to frost, and you twist it to fold it inside itself, slipping it back onto the loose sash of your dress. Now you hold both palms out, up to the sky, feeling the small kisses of snow melt through your gloves.

“Where we’re going, you’ll get sick of it,” he chuckles, bouncing the baby on his arm gently.

When you feel the cold on your lips, you dart your tongue out to taste it, gasping with surprise. You must stand there catching flakes in your palms and on your tongue for so long that you are surprised Din doesn’t sigh and shuffle you off. It’s only when you shiver, face damp from the floating ice, that he touches your back and says quietly that he should get you and the child out of the cold.

You take the baby from him when you board the Razor Crest, freeing him to take care of the pre-flight checks, and you giggle and kiss away the melting snow from the child’s cheeks until he snorts and hiccups with laughter. You blot away the rest with the corner of his blue blanket, smiling.

The small kitchenette upstairs isn’t the most modern of installations, but you are able to heat bone broth and bread, feeding the little one in the cockpit while Din pilots quietly. The familiarity of your surroundings sends you back months, thinking of when you were too intimidated to even speak, let alone sit with the armored warrior.

Once the child is fed, you allow him to toddle about in the limited space of the cockpit, standing to stretch and noticing a surprising splash of color near the Mandalorian’s glove. Moving closer, you rest your now bare hand upon the back of his neck, reaching over to touch the blue flowers in the clay cup the child had gifted him so long ago. They had since bloomed and dried into a fragile relic, and Din’s helmet tilts toward you as you caress it.

You wish you could take Corde and Venka to that field of flowers, splattered in violet and periwinkle.

Without speaking, the Mandalorian reaches out and flips a switch, letting go of the controls before gently guiding you by your hips to sit upon his armored cuisse. His glove rests upon the flesh of your waist, curled over the firm beskar staff still hanging there, and you press the warmth of your cheek against his cold crown of his helmet.

“It is okay to be sad,” Din whispers, both of you cognizant of the little child climbing over his boots beneath your feet. “You do not have to keep it inside you, to yourself.”

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, and you swallow them down hard. You have been crying so much, so freely, that it leaves you feeling guilty. His voice carries all the grief you have harbored since leaving the covert-perhaps even more. You rest one arm around the back of his shoulders, your other hand falling over the soft space between his vambrace and pauldron.

“I do not want to burden you even more,” you whisper, your eyes drifting through the blurry streaks of stars as autopilot guides the ship through the frigid depths of space. You can see the coordinates for your destination, though you cannot read them. They are a scarlet smear of digital letters, not unlike blood upon a stone. “It isn’t fair.”

Din is silent, though you have a feeling-one that comes beyond words, a feeling that is only shared between two people who have known each other so irrevocably-that he agrees, that he understands. You rest against him, in his arms, upon his legs, and you feel yourself listing into a dreamless sleep. Fatigue has followed you these short days after departing Nevarro, and traveling into the Hoth sector, where it feels even colder somehow, has left you mellow and slow-moving.

When you wake, you are slumped in the co-pilot’s seat, and you can hear the baby chirping close by. Din is pulling the ship into land, the descent through a bright atmosphere one of the smoothest you think he has ever flown, and you smile as your hands find the soft, heavy fabric of his cloak upon you, even while you still wear your own. As your eyes adjust to the lighting of the cockpit, you find you have to squint from such a brightness you’ve never experienced on board the Crest, the light reflecting off a harsh white view.

“Where are we?” you ask softly, slow to sit up and feeling a slight stiffness in your neck.

Din’s helmet tilts to the side, but he does not turn from the observation deck, flipping several switches to activate the landing gear. The light has not reduced, and it takes you much longer to adjust. You briefly wonder if he has some kind of photo sensor detection in his helmet that neutralizes the reflection. You feel the thrusters turn on, allowing a softer landing than you expect, and as the engines power down, he finally turns his chair smoothly to face you.

The baby coos from his lap, and a laugh bursts from between your lips.

“What is that!”

Din huffs indignantly, laying a palm on top of the baby’s head. It’s covered with a thickly woven wrap to protect his ears, swaddling him like some kind of decadently coated olive. You can’t make out what it’s made of, but the dark material only allows his face to be free. His ears wiggle at your laugh and he blinks his large, innocent eyes, making you grin wider as you stand.

“It’s freezing out there,” Din grumbles, allowing you to lift the child into your arms where he immediately begins to snuggle closer into your warmth. The wrap smells like Din, you think, and you hide a smile as you press a kiss to the baby’s brow. You turn your pale eyes upon the Mandalorian’s shadow before leaning down and kissing the steel above his visor, too.

“You are a sweet-hearted man, Din Djarin,” you murmur, unable to keep the lightness from your voice, your movements. His hand touches your waist tenderly, only falling away when you turn to retrieve his thick cloak from the chair you vacated. “Are we to wait for you to return from bounding and sneaking across the plains?”

He ignores your teasing, standing and receiving the cloak you offer him. You watch as he affixes it over his helmet, tucking it much tighter beneath the beskar than usual. “Yes,” he tilts his helmet towards you, and you sigh a little, wishing you could see his face. Knowing and understanding why you can’t for now. “But not yet. There’s something I want to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you follow him swiftly down the ladder, suddenly grateful for the thickly lined dress, woolen leggings, and thick boots he insisted upon. Din lowers the ramp, and you yelp at the sudden frigid blast of dry air that seems to frost everything around you like splintering cobwebs. You grab the baby up, burying him beneath your cloak and glaring at the Mandalorian who laughs at your scowling.

“I told you it was cold.”

Your answering glower does little to snuff out his laughter, and you allow him to tug your gloves back on one at a time, shifting the little child in your arms. It’s only when he steps out onto the ramp that you notice he has armed himself to the teeth, and his rifle is slung across his back. Once, it frightened you, but now it seems just another part of him.

Blinking against the bright light, you pull the hood of your cloak over the crown of your head before taking your staff out, comforted by the quiet clink of the beskar against the ramp as you step outside.

The sun glares down upon a frozen, empty surface, a thickly snowy hill country, and you think the Razor Crest must be the only blot of color on the entire planet. You sniffle against the cold, realizing as you walk down the ramp that the earth is not solid.

Immediately, you sink down nearly to your knees in soft, powdery snow.

“Din!”

His laugh is loud, barking through the vocoder, and you scramble to try and step through it, only succeeding in sinking further into the drift of white crystals that are melting less than before. It coats your boots, your leggings, your dress, and you sputter and spit the fluffy crystals off your faces.

The baby shrieks with happiness.

“Alright,” he laughs, stepping over and helping you out of the drift until you can find a place to stand more solidly. He brushes the snow coating your cloak, and you slap his elbow playfully.

“You could have warned me. That wasn’t funny.”

“You are very pretty when you are angry, though.”

Your cheeks blush hot enough to melt the speckles of snow on your eyelashes, and you duck your head bashfully, gently setting the baby down upon his feet. His tiny boots, sewn from the thick scraps of leather of Din’s worn holsters and lined with wool you’d taken from your own dress’s hem, barely leave footprints as he begins to waddle curiously. His little arms are thrust out on either side to retain his balance, ears wiggling with delight beneath his head wrap as he coos in wonder at the icy landscape around him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you finally sniff, hovering carefully behind the child as he makes a slow ramble through the snow, one hand splayed outward just in case he falls as you lean on your staff.

Warm, rough leather hands circle your hips, and you suck in a breath as you’re pulled back against hard beskar, and suddenly you don’t feel the cold at all. The curve of his helmet bumps the back of your head where your hood shields your hair, and you swallow against the sudden rush of heat blooming in your belly.

“I’d give you my rifle for another chance to see you challenge a man with it,” Din whispers, barely audible over the gentle breeze. Your pale eyes keep hold of the tiny ball of wool that is your son, huffing and puffing as he makes a path through the snow ahead of you, but you can’t say your attention is fully dedicated to him anymore, especially when Din’s hands begin to slip beneath your cloak, tracing the curve of your waist. Even through your layers, you can imagine the path his hands make, and you are burning beneath them now.

You turn your face over your shoulder, biting your lip. “I’m still unhappy with you for not telling me about that fight,” you mutter, shuddering when one of his hands cups your breast and squeezes, firm enough to nearly have your knees buckling. “I-I won’t...be distracted.”

His chuckle vibrates through the beskar chest plate against your back, and you have to close your eyes and breathe through the sudden dizziness of feeling him firm against your backside. He rests the lip of his helmet upon your shoulder.

“Yes, ma���am.”

You both stand together, your free arm folded over his as he holds you, watching the baby giggle and flop in the snow. He face plants forward, causing the both of you to burst with laughter, and he seems intent to try to make his imprint on the ground.

Kneeling down, you scoop snow into your gloved hand, squeezing and forming it experimentally. You had never truly considered what snow was like, having hailed from a temperate and balmy climate, but the way the bright sun glimmers, nearly too much, you can see the appeal. Your breath fogs before your face, and you blow rings into the air.

And then, a sudden splatter of snow swamps you from above, and you scream.

Whirling around, you find the Mandalorian holding his middle, shaking with restrained laughter, and you take two quick strides up to him before giving him a firm shove. Surprisingly, he loses his balance and tips over with ease, falling back into the pillow of a snow drift only to laugh harder in the face of your wrath.

“You’re such a bucket-head!” you laugh, picking up your own handful of snow and lobbing it at his helmet. The satisfaction of actually aiming and hitting your mark is stolen when he continues to laugh, a deep, rich, and warm sound, sprawled in the snow and deeply unaffected by your vengeance.

Panting with giggles, the baby waddles at top speed through the icy powder, giving a wiggling hop to pounce upon his father’s chest as if to claim a prize. You plop down on his other side, thumping hard on the chest plate with the mythosaur carved in the top of your staff.

“This is what you wanted to show us, is it?” you challenge, knowing he’s beaming under his visor. He folds his hands under his helmet as if he could simply take a nap, and you grin down at him, shaking your head. The baby moves to sit on his chest, grunting until he squeals in triumph and begins to slap his tiny hands upon the helmet like playing a drum.

“Alright, womp-rat,” Din grunts, lifting the child up high in his arms as he sits up. The baby coos, throwing his hands out as if he could fly through the air, and you giggle when you watch Din sit the little green infant upon his shoulder. He offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet with more delicacy than Paz Vizla, brushing snow off your shoulders. You smile, pushing yourself up to your toes and pressing your warm forehead against his cold one.

Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep-

Din tenses, his hands gripping like iron with a near bruising strength around your wrists suddenly. You blink, foggy and distant in the planes of affection and play, before you realize the soft echoing radar comes from his own person. He has gone completely still before you, the tracking fob giving off a subtle blinking red light at his hip, and as you draw your pale gaze up to him, you realize why.

On the horizon of the otherwise blindingly white landscape, there is a small smear of color in the distance, hardly noticeable at first, a blotting of red like dripped wax on paper, but you see it as it moves. Moving toward you, and Din. And the child.

“Get him inside,” Din snarls, thrusting you and the little one sharply behind him before striding through the snow like a shadow defying the bend of light, shouldering his rifle with the ease of a practiced killer. “And lock yourselves in.”

Your heart is a panicked, fluttery thing, a frightened rabbit in the open sight of prey, and you clutch the baby in your arms, wrapping him firmly against your chest even when he begins to fuss at the jolting movements. You are clumsy, stumbling through the snow and tripping even with your staff, nearly falling several times in your attempt to get back to the ramp of the Razor Crest. It is slick with ice and snow, and you slip on the lip of the threshold, landing painfully on your knees. Fear is clawing up your throat, and you feel tears sting your eyes when the child begins to whimper over your shoulder, reaching out his tiny hands toward his father.

Using the staff to draw yourself up, you slam your gloved hand against the release switch to shut the hull, looking desperately across the tundra for a sign of the man you love, for the prey he hunts, but all you see is white.

-

Mando’a Translations:

Cyare - Beloved

-

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[itcamefromthetoybox]

Uh Oh, It’s The Bad Guy!

Today’s Friday, which means it’s time for another thrilling toy review! Some readers might recall that a couple of weeks back, I did a review of the Baby Yoda toy that was released as part of the “Star Wars Retro Collection,” a line of figures done in the style of the original Star Wars figures from the 1970’s, only without the smell of pot clinging to them. Well, today, I thought it’d be fun to touch on another figure from that line, which was released for the hit Disney+ show, “The Mandalorian.” You know him, you love him, you hate him! Put your hands together for… MOFF GIDEON! (Insert sounds of cheering crowd here.)

When I did my review of Baby Yoda, I talked in detail about what the Retro Collection is, so I’m not gonna repeat myself. So let’s get into our character, and do note that there are some UNAVOIDABLE SPOILERS in this review, so if that bothers you, go watch “The Mandalorian” right now and we won’t have a problem. That being said, Moff Gideon is the big baddie of the series, a cunning planner and the leader of most of the Imperials we’ve seen in the show. The figure is 3.75 inches and, if you’re lucky enough to find him in stores, goes for about $10. He’s got two accessories and can hold them both in his hands. He comes with one gun and… dramatic pause… THE DARKSABER! If you’ve seen this show or “Star Wars: Rebels,” then you know what a huge deal that is! If you didn’t see either show, then the most basic way to think of it is a black lightsaber. For when the red lightsaber just wasn’t goth enough.

A black cloak over black armor. Boy howdy, was this fun to try to photograph.

So, there’s a few key details here that separate this figure from the majority of modern Star Wars toys, which makes sense, since this one was done with 1970’s-80’s styling. First, his face isn’t a perfect replica of the actor’s face like a lot of toys based off live action characters are. You can still tell who this is supposed to be, but don’t expect to buy a tiny Giancarlo Esposito. His body armor is fairly detailed, though, much like in the show, it’s mostly black with the occasional red and silver. Articulation’s very limited here, and is limited to the legs, arms, and neck. So far, I’m not really saying anything surprising.

Giancarlo Esposito: Here to utterly eff up the protagonists of all your favorite shows.

Of course, if you can see the pics in this review and Tumblr hasn’t worked its usual magic and lost or blocked them all, you might have noticed that Gideon’s wearing what seems to be a sleeveless black trench coat, like a cross between a hipster and a nerd desperately trying to look badass. That’s supposed to be his cape. See, in the 70’s, very few Star Wars toys had cloth capes or cloaks. A few did, like the adorable Jawa, but the majority, like Vader and Obi-Wan, had plastic coats like this. It’s a solid piece of plastic that can be removed with effort, and it does not flow in the wind.

From behind, he looks like a solid black statue. Not really intimidating.

Let’s talk about his accessories a bit. His blaster is solid black and looks like Han Solo’s gun. There is no way to store it if you don’t want Gideon holding it, so either set it aside or always have him ready for a shoot-out. The same is true for the Darksaber. No way to store it outside of Gideon holding it, so I guess he’s just always gonna be up for a fight. For a lot of early Star Wars toys, their lightsabers were part of their arms and could telescope into their arms, making it look like the lightsaber was turned off and keeping kids from losing the damn things and needing to buy a whole new Luke Skywalker every time they misplaced his iconic accessory. When the toys for “Empire Strikes Back” came out, though, the free ride was over and the sword was a separate, easy to lose piece, and that is how Gideon’s Darksaber works. To help it stand out against his black outfit, the Darksaber is also not black, and is instead gunmetal grey. At first, I thought it was translucent, but it looks like that’s just how the grey plastic looks and is my eyes playing tricks on me. Lo, for I am a fool!

Toy swords and guns: previously seen on the social media accounts of every edgy white boy trying to be cool by acting like his favorite anime villain.

Gideon’s able to hold both his accessories at once, and ideally it won’t matter which hand holds which item. For my figure, though, his gun only stays in his right hand and his Darksaber in his left. I tried switching it up, and he dropped them faster then a drunk straight boy drops his digits at a bar. But even then, Gideon doesn’t really want to hold his gun, and it is usually one inattentive touch away from falling. So you have a small, black accessories that falls off the toy easily. Give it a week before you’ve lost it forever.

How Hot Topic didn’t jump on this dude’s design, I’ll never know.

Gideon is a decent toy aimed at collectors, though the devotion to replicating the style of the original toys means he can be given to kids. The box says he’s for ages 4 and up, so just make sure whoever has access to him is past the point of putting things in their mouths. Ideally, you can find him at retail stores, but I never have and ended up ordering him online. If you like retro figures, he’s a great fit for your Star Wars collection, though, maybe keep a little plastic baggie around to store the accessories.

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 35

Chapter 35: The Blizzard

Scorched needles, scarps of wood blackened by rage, and bits of ash and charcoal scattered across the burnt snow where the proud pine tree once stood. Specks of blood and splinters dropped from the Sorcerer's scraped and roughened fingertips like someone had scattered rubies. His nails were shredded and his cuticles were split from clawing at the bark in a fit of rage. His fury had reduced the aged pine to a pile of ashes. All while, the raven remained still on its perch in the snow, completely unfazed by his master's wrath.

The Sorcerer's growl was dangerous and low before he suddenly screamed and spun around delivering a powerful blow to the young sapling unfortunate enough to be in the path of his wrath.

It made no effort to protests the Sorcerer's rage. Blinded by his rage, all he could see were the images his spy had shown. Images of that disgustingly repulsive beast, not even a beast but a half-beast, dancing with the Occulti, his Occulti. He clenching his fists causing his fingers to scream in pain but he was numb to all but his rage. He could forgive Kai for that. Surely the Dragon was becoming desperate and would use any kindness to trick the youth into saying the words needed to break his curse and deny him his greatest triumph.

He could forgive the youth for his naivety and his defenselessness.

He was merciful, but not after treachery. His wrath erupted, sending the curling shadows at his feet exploding in all directions. They shattered and pierced whatever they came in contact with until the clearing was a hollow circle of scorched earth.

"He's dirty! That damned whore! Damn him for giving away his purity, and damn me for thinking any one of their kind was redeemable!" He screamed and stomped his foot and tore at his hair and clothes until he panted like a beast after a hunt. But no matter how loud he screamed or how much he destroyed, it could never destroy that last scene from his mind. That beautiful boy, who should have been his consort and ruling at his side, wantonly giving his virginity to that monster and enjoying it.

He wanted to scream again, but someone else beat him to it.

"Lloyd! Where are you?!" A woman cried and the weak call was followed by a loud stumble against the carpet of snow. Bewildered, the Sorcerer quickly shielded himself among the trees careful not to let a spot of his red clothing betray his location. He watched a young woman rise stumbling from the muddy earth, and choke loudly on air. Like a shadow, the Sorcerer swooped closer and gasped. It was easy to miss from a distance but beneath the thick winter clock and the leaves and mud matting the sister of his Occulti.

The girl bulldozed through the woods and threw herself forward through the snow.

The action caused her heavy cloak to fall open revealing a shower of black hair, shiny even in the shadows of the winter forest. The girl immediately stumbled and almost fell over, but she was able to remain standing by leaning against a nearby tree. She was clearly sick as a dog and should be going home, but she had to keep going. She tried to scream, but instead choked on her own words and coughed in a way that made even the Sorcerer's skin crawl.

"I have... to find... Lloyd," She wheezed, shoving herself off the tree with surprising strength and half stumbled in her haste. She didn't get far before exhaustion and the brutal cold forced her to her knees. "I have to find them! I have to find Lloyd then we can save Kai! I have to get them back!" She spoke passionately to no one, but it was laced with the madness of grief. Again she shoved herself forward but instead her hands clenched her head and formed fists against her hair.

"I have to protect them! I promised I would! I promised them! Mom and Dad, I promised, and look what I've done! Lloyd's probably dead and I can't even think of what Kai's going through!" She screamed and tore at her hands and clothes with the rage and madness that only grief could drive a sane man to. She slammed her fists against the ground and punched at anything she could. All of a sudden, she was suddenly filled with new determination and charged into the blizzard, not aware she was being watched.

A triumphant smile split the Sorcerer's face.

Perhaps, there was some hope left after all. He smirked cunningly and called his pet. The bird abandoned its statue state and flew to its master's wrist.

"Tell me, my pet is he the one? The one our little Occulti spoke off?" He asked, but even though the bird said nothing a flash of its eyes and the Sorcerer had his answer. "And this 'Lloyd' she searches for, is he the other?" He questioned and again the bird was like a prop, only its glowing eyes gave an indication that it was alive. The Sorcerer snickered to conceal his glee, not wishing to betray his location to the still wandering mage. He spun in delight, thinking this was fantastic. It seemed that the Fates favored him after all.

"Follow her, when you've reached them both, alert me; now go!" He ordered as a grin curled wickedly on his face. The bird was off without another word, vanishing in the darkness while its Master laughed at his fortune. "Oh don't worry, girl, you shall see your little brother again soon!" He cackled like a flock of crows taking to wing and threw his bloody cloak over his shoulder...

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

It had been two weeks since he ran away from home to find the castle where his beloved brother was being held prisoner by that beast. Two weeks he had been living in the woods surviving only because of the warming weather of the upcoming spring and because years of living a nomadic life had taught him to pack and prepare for the worst of situations. Two weeks since he had begun his search for Kai and he had found nothing. He thought it would be easy, with Spring fast approaching, that is until a blizzard appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

It had caught Lloyd completely off-guard and forced him to stop his search and find shelter.

Lloyd whimpered as he bunched his knees to his chest, shivering but not from the cold. The multiple fires he had started to keep the cave air warm, and the thick clothing he had packed had taken care of that. He covered his mouth to silence the heavy, haggard coughs fighting to escape. Quickly, he unpacked the bag containing a herbal blend and dumped it into the pot of water that had been boiling over the fire. He inhaled a sharp, large breathe and exhaled contently.

Immediately, he felt his throat soothe and his chest became less constricted.

He hadn't needed to use the herbal vapors so much before, but the cold weather wasn't doing his weak chest any good. He knew he would have been fine if he stayed in that warm house at night like a good boy. But how could he when Kai had been missing for almost five months, and the castle where the dragon kept him prisoner seemed to completely vanish? The thought made Lloyd's eyes prick with tears, but he managed not to cry. His fingers trembled, he clenched his arms and knees tighter in an attempt to feel some form of comfort.

But there was none. Nothing he did could replace the warmth and security he felt when he, Nya, and Kai were all together at home.

He knew he couldn't go home. Nya would never let him leave the house again until he was eighty. Lloyd didn't blame her, he ran away after all, but he couldn't keep waiting. He couldn't keep sitting around and doing nothing while his older sister worked and searched diligently for their missing sibling. He had traveled deeper and deeper into the woods. No matter how many times he found himself back at the path where they got lost in the storm, however, he couldn't find any trace of the huge castle.

Had it been sheer dumb luck that Kai found it the first time?

Or that they found it at all? Lloyd shook his head, forcing himself to dry his sleepy eyes. He then sat up with new determination, mentally forcing the tears and shivering down deep. If Kai could find the castle to save him and Nya then he could do the same thing to save Kai. He removed himself from the warmth of his fires and carefully approached the edge of the cave entrance, where he could hear the blizzard howling and blowing. The cold air bit angrily against his lukewarm skin, as if punishing him for daring to defy it.

Over the woods, he could see the setting sun was nothing more than a yellow sliver above the trees and the night had gone a deep grayish purple of twilight that bled into the dark blue and black of night.

Seeing that there was no point in traveling in the dark, Lloyd slid back into the crevice in the rocks and carefully covered it with a thick net of branches to keep out the cold. He had found this cave by sheer accident when he had slipped and fallen into the entrance. Through that, he discovered a fairly large-sized cave, hollowed out of the dirt and lined with rocks like a fox den. Lloyd had decided it would be the perfect place to camp while he explored the woods by day.

That proved to be true when the underground and rocks blocked out much of the night's cold.

The small opening allowed just enough air so that he wouldn't suffocate from the smoke of the fires. Sometimes, when he felt really weak and his medicine wasn't helping. He would have to spend all day curled up in his makeshift tent under the thick blankets he had brought until his shivering stopped and he could move again. Tonight had been one of his rare nights where he had just enough energy to go exploring again, but he regretted it when he had received an unwanted follower.

Lloyd shivered and blew air into his gloved hands, and rubbed them together before returning to the fire.

Outside a loud crunch of the snow made him scream, the sound echoing off the cave walls forcing Lloyd to cover his ears until it faded out.

"LLOYD!" Nya's voice suddenly screeched, coming closer to the cave. Before he could say anything, she pulled away from the cover and started sobbing tears of joy when she saw her little brother huddled in the dark. Lloyd didn't get a chance to react before she suddenly hugged the air out of his lungs. They stayed like that for a few seconds, before a look of rage fell over her face and she started shaking the little boy. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING LLOYD?! I'VE ALREADY LOST KAI, DO YOU THINK I WANT TO LOSE YOU?! WELL, DO YOU?!" She screamed, still sobbing through clenched teeth.

However, her rage suddenly vanished when Lloyd finally released all the tears he had been holding in and started sobbing loudly.

Nya sighed and hugged her little brother again, letting him sob into her shoulder until he eventually tired himself out and fell asleep. As soon as she was sure he was out cold, Nya packed up his things and lifted him up in her arms. Once he was secure and safe, she left the cave and began to head home. However, it only took a few seconds to discover that she couldn't find the trail leading back to the village in this monstrous blizzard. She tried turning around and heading back to the cave.

But her face paled when she realized that the blizzard had covered her footprints in fresh snow.

She was now stranded in the middle of a blizzard in the forest with one brother sick in her arms and the other being held prisoner by a monster...

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

Kai screamed for his siblings in his sleep as he thrashed around in the bed, only to find himself restrained. His eyes suddenly flew open and he found himself being held in place by Cole, the man's green eyes fixed on him with a mixture of fear and concern. A cold stab of fear pierced him, completely unaware of where he was. He recognized Cole's room, but the bedsheets were twisted and half flung off. One of Kai's arms raised over his head the other clenched the pillow in a fierce death grip, with Cole holding both his wrists.

Cole's tail was wrapped firmly around Kai's waist to keep from thrashing about.

Slowly, so as not to scare him further, Cole unwound himself and looked him over for any sign of injury.

"Kai? Are you alright?" He asked, carefully and tenderly. The details of his nightmare came back to him like a cold knife twisting into his heart. A sudden stab of guilt and terror knifed through him, making Kai flip over and smother his face in a pillow and burst into tears. "Kai? Talk to me!" Cole pleaded as he kept shaking him, his voice sterner, but not losing an ounce of concern.

"I'm fine," Kai lied wiping his eyes. "I just had a nightmare."

"I can see that, you don't wake up crying and screaming if you've had a good dream," Cole said bluntly, lying down next to him and pulling Kai into his arms. Despite Cole's attempt at light humor, Kai said nothing. He just looked at the pillow beneath his face. A tear he hadn't noticed ran down his face and he found himself shaking again. He tried to speak but the only coherent thoughts in his head were the pleading, effusing eyes of his two brothers.

Determined to relieve his precious flame of his distress, Cole wrapped tentative arms around Kai.

He then pulled the brunette into his lap and brought him down with him against the pillows. Kai resisted the embrace and tried to protest but regretted it when Cole looked him straight in the eye. His face was a mask that betrayed no emotion, but his serious eyes held unspoken trust.

"You saw your siblings, didn't you? You're worried about them." He said and Kai's flinch of shock was the only answer Cole needed. "Don't look so surprised, you screamed both their names; I've had nightmares about my sister and parents for years after they vanished, so you don't have to hide your worry, and I don't want you thinking you can't come to me when you're upset like this." He promised as he tucked one of Kai's loose bangs behind his ear.

"It's not that," Kai admitted, feeling his chest stir at the words. He paused, guilt shaking him to the core. "I don't know if that was a nightmare or another premonition, but... it made me realize just how selfish I've been; here I am, happier than I've ever been in my entire life, surrounded by people who adore me, wearing the most expensive things I've ever owned! I'm practically living a fairy tale and they think I'm starving to death in some cold, dark tower, being tortured."

"Oh," Cole muttered as Kai covered his head with his arms and buried it in Cole's chest.

"They probably think I'm dead, Cole!" Kai cried as tears streamed down his face. He had never stopped thinking of his siblings, not since the day he had arrived at the castle. It seemed wrong to do anything else. Even when he started to like his confinement, and enjoy the company of the Dragon Lord, he still remembered his brother and sister and was comforted in the thought that they were both safe and hopefully happy. He never stopped to consider that his sacrifice might have the opposite effect of what he intended.

Or that his disappearance had destroyed their lives in a way he never considered.

But he had been so happy. The last few days were like a dream come true and he wanted nothing more than to pretend that it could last forever, and he dared, for once, to be selfish and think of nothing but his own happiness. Of course, that decision would come back to haunt him. Guilt pooled in Cole's gut and he cursed his own helplessness as he watched Kai weep. He hated seeing Kai like this. The brunette deserved to be happy and content, not feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and be consumed by guilt and shame for wanting to forget that and enjoy life for once.

Especially since it was his fault Kai's family was separated from him.

Looking back at the darkest and earliest days of when he and Kai met when he had unleashed his bitterness and rage against Nya and Lloyd. Kai's siblings had every right to be afraid of him. He had only agreed to Kai's proposal because the boy fascinated him and not because he cared at all about their fates, even if Lloyd's health had concerned him. It had filled him with shame and he knew he had to make up for it. None of them deserved to be separated from one another.

Especially not because of him.

They deserved better than that ridiculous town trapped in time, and he knew just how to do it. Cole stroked Kai's back and gently shook him. When Kai raised his head, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks damp with tears, Cole comforted him with caring words pressed with butterfly kisses along his neck and temples.

"If you're that concerned about them, then you can always invite them to stay here." He said with a soft smile and Kai shot up.

"What?" He croaked in a weak voice forced through a constricted throat.

"There's more than enough room here, the staff will adore them; you already said you three planned on leaving your town anyway, and I don't think they'll argue if you ask them, and I can bear the bulk of their hatred for your sake."

"Why would they hate you?" Kai blurted, too stunned to think clearly, and Cole raised an eyebrow of annoyed obviousness.

"Given the fact that I locked them in a tower and technically kidnapped you, I doubt they'd be happy to see me or be comfortable with the fact that you're now my lover, but as I said, I can bear the bulk of their hatred until they see I'm not as cold as I act."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you," Cole replied, pressing their foreheads together. Overcome by emotion, Kai launched himself into Cole's chest and held him tight with such force he nearly knocked Cole over. Tears rained down his cheeks but this time they were happy tears.

"Thank you, Cole! Thank you so much! I don't deserve you!" Kai cried as he buried himself in Cole's torso grateful for the man's comfort and support and his understanding more than anything else.

"Don't ever say that again, don't even think it." Cole scolded but there was little force behind it. Cole pulled the comforter up to Kai's shoulders as they fell back asleep. "We'll talk more about it in the morning."

"Thank you, Cole, thank you for everything." Kai yawned as he dried his eyes.

"You have nothing to thank me for, it's the least I can do since you saved my soul." Cole smiled as he sensed Kai's lingering uncertainty, he continued to hold his lover close and comfort him until they finally fell back into a peaceful sleep. Cole continued to hold Kai, keeping a careful watch for the rest of the night, treasuring the feeling of holding Kai close. When the nightmares bothered him again, Cole was quick to chase them away and coaxed Kai back to sleep with soothing touches and caring words until Kai quieted...

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light: Chapter 10: Departure

A/N: Hey, going to be a little iffy on the posting schedule. Taking a huge test in 12 days and I have to study all day every day. Take this one though, one of my favorite chapters. I do wonder if the story would be better if I didn’t have so much of the plan laid out beforehand.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 10: Departure

Everyone was sweating as Agad, the last of their group, reached the High Judgement Pavilion. Only Patton was missing, already on his way to scope out the dragon temple. While they didn’t tell Seth directly, Patton was probably going to use their infuriatingly peaceful flight as a distraction for when he entered.

Seth had spent the afternoon getting everything ready. Whispering to people to pack up and where to go, modifying the treaty to let their mounts out, trying to collect items. Tess had found him and spelled out the names of the demons in Kendra’s journal, and it was only when she spelled out “Tailizar” that he connected that name with demon that had confronted him in the dreamscape. Agad had promised to see if he could locate any of these demons, and Seth stuck their names with Patton’s list of ways to reach the Phantom Isle. He really needed an adventure log. He let Tess keep the journal of secrets, since no one else was going to use it.

“All right,” Seth said, rubbing his hands together. “I see everyone has brought their suitcases, like I said. You’re probably wondering what is going on, and the answer is that all humans and Satyrs are leaving Wyrmroost right now. I’m going to give being caretaker back to Marat, Agad will do what he wants, but the rest of us are heading out.”

Everyone started asking questions at once, but they weren’t letting Seth answer them. Every time he tried to start, someone else would jump in with a point.

Marat struck his staff on the ground, demanding silence. He nodded back at Seth.

“Right, I’ve thought this through and talked it over with Agad and Marat. We’re expecting an attack tonight, and the biggest weakness is the barrel, so we’ll be taking that with us. There’s a spy in the keep I’m going to have to leave Marat to deal with, but to be honest, he’ll probably be able to handle them a lot better than I could.

“We did what we were brought here to do: kept Wyrmroost from falling, strengthened the treaty barriers, and we saved a couple of castles and insulted the dragon king while we were at it. There’s no reason for me to be here, or any of you, and as cool as it has been being the caretaker, I have a couple of leads on finding Kendra, and that’s more important.”

Grandma asked, “How will you get Celebrant to agree to the change in leadership?”

Seth grinned, “Celebrant doesn’t have to. He’s no longer caretaker, revoked by our local dragon slayer. He’ll be angry, I’m counting on it, but no magic says he can tell us to do anything. We’re skipping the Fair Folk bit again, but they already confirmed Marat once, and what are they going to do, write a slightly angry letter?”

“And how do you expect to leave peacefully?” Grandpa asked, arms folded.

“The flying mounts,” Tanu answered before Seth could.

“Yep,” Seth said. “It may have skipped your notice, but we acquired some new wings for our friends. We fly down to the nearest town with a car rental, and we can be back in Fablehaven by tomorrow. To make things easier on our friends, we won’t have them fly us the whole way. And we’ll have some nice stables waiting for them at Fablehaven when they arrive.”

“And the Dragons?” Newel asked. “I still haven’t heard how we’re getting around them if they decide it isn’t poor taste to eat poultry and red meat in the same meal.”

Doren slapped a hand to his head, “Of course, the Cloak of Innocence.”

“I would normally be loathe to test the cloak against multiple dragons,” Agad said, “As they are undoubtably watching us, but it is a short trip, the numbers within the cloak’s ability, even with the mounts. The cloak has also proven effective against dragon fear, ensuring you retain the ability to stay seated.”

“Oh, and we’re taking the barrel with us,” Seth said, not remembering if he had already mentioned it, “Marat, did we get anything for that?”

Marat waved a golden feather, “This will significantly lighten the barrel, making it possible to carry if secured correctly.”

“Cool, any other questions?” Seth said, “We’ve been keeping this underwraps, hoping to be able to walk right out of here. Celebrant isn’t going to expect us to just leave, certainly not in broad daylight, which makes this the perfect time.”

“Wait, does this mean we’re going to be riding horses?” Newel asked, absolutely affronted.

“Actually, it’s not so bad,” Doren admitted quietly. “I had to, in order to stay with the littles. Felt a little off, but it won’t kill ya.”

“Look, I would really like you guys with me,” Seth said, “But if you’d rather stay here…”

Newel huffed, “Now I don’t appreciate being strong armed, I’ll go, but it’s unnatural is all.”

“So Marat, how do I do this?” Seth asked, and the dragon avatar stepped forward.

“First you’re going to have to denounce Kendra as a caretaker. You were appointed together as one, and you are both required to make decisions regarding the mantle. Kendra has been gone for long enough, that you can officially declare her as having abandoned the post, and accept all the responsibilities as sole caretaker. Hold the staff, hold the amulet, and repeat after me.”

Seth accepted the staff and repeated what Marat told him to. If Kendra had her memory, she would be so mad over what he was accusing her of: abandoning responsibilities, disregard for the treaty, and in her absence, he accepted sole power and responsibility for the preserve.

There was a glow from both the medallion and the tip of the staff. When it settled down, Agad stepped forward.

“Seth, remove the medallion from around your neck,” he instructed. He did so. “And repeat after me.”

Seth recited the same oath that Marat had asked him to take a little over a week ago.

“Do you, Marat nee Camarat, vow to protect the outside world from the living beings at Wyrmroost, and to shelter the living beings at Wyrmroost from any outside threats?”

“Yes,” Marat said, his head bowed.

“Then as the current caretaker of Wyrmroost and as master of Blackwell Keep, of my own free will, I hereby confer my stewardship over Wyrmroost to Marat nee Camarat, including all rights pertaining to a designated and official caretaker of this sanctuary together with all privileges available to the master of Blackwell Keep.”

Seth placed the medallion over Marat’s head, and they shook hands.

Agad let out a breath, “It is done. You have done this war a great service, Seth Sorenson.”

“Hey, maybe this isn’t goodbye forever to Wyrmroost,” Seth said, smiling, “It’s been fun, feel free to call on my services again after we get Kendra back.”

“We will try to let you grow up first,” Agad said. He walked to the side of the pavilion, it was fairly large, and waved a hand towards the stables.

A minute later, those who hadn’t yet seen the mounts were appreciating them. Tess looked like she had gone to heaven.

“I get to ride one?” Tess asked, bouncing.

“You’re going to be with your brother,” Agad said, smiling at her. “His steed is the majestic flying camel, Bagak.” Tess squealed and ran up the camel, talking a million miles a minute.

“Do I have to ride with her?” Knox complained.

“Bagak is the most secure,” Agad said, “We don’t have saddles that accommodate wings. Make no mistake, Tess is possibly the most important member of this party. Without her, everyone fails.”

Seth, meanwhile, was making introductions, “Grandma, this is Glory. She’s Kendra’s mount, and one of the mute luvians. Glory, would you be willing to take my grandma out of the preserve and to the outskirts of the city?”

Glory neighed and stomped once for yes.

“You are quite beautiful,” Grandma admired offering her hand and waiting for affirmation to stroke, “And Kendra picked you because you like Jane Austen, right?”

“Captain!” Seth called, pulling Grandpa behind him. “Patton’s gone, he was only a stingbulb, but I’m hoping you’d be willing to take my Grandpa?”

“I remember Patton was only temporary,” Captain said, “as a group, we have decided to stick together and give your goals what aide we can. I would be honored to carry your esteemed elder.”

“The honor would be mine,” Grandpa said bowing.

Seth found the dark gray stallion, and asked quietly, “Rodolfo, are you sure you’re okay leaving Lomo behind? I’d understand if you wanted to stay by him. He’s the only one you agreed to carry.”

“I heard you with Captain, and I stand by that. Lomo also encouraged me to stay with your group. Frustrated by his own race’s neutrality, he encouraged me to assist you in what I can,” Rodolfo told him.

“Good, I’m glad to have you with us,” Seth said, “You get the strangest riders. Go easy on them, they spook easily.”

Rodolfo seemed amused as he followed Seth to where the satyrs were standing apart from the group.

“Newel, Doren, this is Rodolfo, he has volunteered to carry you out of here,” Seth said. “I told him to go easy on your two because you’re scardy cats and this is unnatural.”

“I resemble that remark,” Doren said.

“You sure he’s up for carrying both of us?” Newel asked.

Rodolfo snorted, “I could carry you both and another besides.” Then he calmed down, “I swear that you will have safe journey on my back.”

“Sorry,” Newel said, “We’ve just never gotten along well with Centaurs, and have never met Luvians, but you seem an alright sort, I suppose.”

Seth left to find Nobel, who was waiting for him.

“Sorry about that buddy,” Seth said, “That was my last bit of being in charge for a while, had to do a good job of it. We’re going to be following Tanu and Charlemagne out of here, right?”

Nobel stomped once.

“Good, alright. If dragons try to bother us, I’m going to be the one talking to them. I won’t be focused on staying with the group then, you’re going to have to do that for me.”

Nobel tapped once again, then tossed his head. Seth smiled, “Yeah, I so got the coolest one.”

It took longer than Seth liked to get everyone mounted up and settled. Grandma made sure everyone had their weapons firmly put out of reach so that no accidents killed them all by disrupting the cloak of innocence’s power. The barrel ended up tied alongside Captain, weighing as much as a feather thanks to the magical item. They made sure Tess knew all the people and animals inside the protection of the cloak. Finally, they were ready about 5:30, which gave them a little over three hours before sunset.

“Until we meet again,” the caretaker brothers said in unison. They didn’t look anything alike, but their manners matched in that moment as the two dragons in human form bowed to the party.

“Lead on Charlemagne,” Seth called. They took off, and the heat fell away as they soared on the breeze. Seth decided to start counting, see how long it would take for a dragon to attack them.

He got bored and stopped, but it didn’t take long for one to approach.

“And where are you going, little caretaker?” a female voice asked. A black dragon surged from the surrounding woods into the air beside them.

“Oh, I’m not caretaker anymore,” Seth said, “I gave that over to Marat. Celebrant’s tantrums got boring; they aren’t worth my time.”

The dragon pulled back and a surge of green fire surrounded them, deflected by the bubble of Tess’s cloak.

“Now that was rude,” Seth said, as the breath weapon subsided, “Here we are, trying to leave peacefully, and you try to set us on fire.” He leaned forward on Nobel and stoked his neck. Dropping to a whisper he said, “Stay steady, don’t spook.”

There was a grunt Seth couldn’t interpret, but it was strong enough that Seth leaned back.

“Celebrant did not accept this change! He was not aware. You lie.”

Seth shook his head, “Take it up with the caretaker, Marat is back at Blackwell Keep. It might be hard, since Celebrant tore down the roost. The Somber Knight stripped Celebrant of his caretaker status, and since it’s no longer his business who is caretaker, we didn’t feel the need to inform him of the change. If he doesn’t know, you should hurry and tell him.”

The black dragon took off with three harsh beats of her wings. Not even the wind affected them, instead slipping around the barrier.

“Seth, here’s an idea, maybe don’t taunt the dragons?” Doren called back with a strained voice.

“Seconded,” Grandpa called from in front of him, “Protection from magical fear is all well and good, but we don’t need to make this experience anymore terrifying than it already is. Everyone okay?”

A round of affirmatives came, the silent horses whinnying.

Calvin flew up close on Thistleton.

“Should I try scouting like last time?” Calvin asked.

Seth shook his head, “Stay within the cover of the cloak. We don’t know how far we can stretch this bubble, and everyone staying together would be better. Go up to Charlemagne and ask how long until we reach the barrier.”

“Aye sir!” Calvin said. “Let’s go Thistleton!”

Calvin came back and reported forty minutes until they reached the boundary. Seth took out his spy glass and pointed it towards Sky Hold, but couldn’t focus it right while moving. He put it away and hoped. Hoped the black dragon was a chatterbox, discrediting Celebrant even further. Hoped she wasn’t as fast as she looked, and it would take her at least thirty minutes to make it to Sky Hold. They had bet a lot on this plan, and Seth really, really, really hoped it would work.

Ten minutes of fairly smooth flying (they had a small detour away from a herd of Peryton), and Seth was starting to feel hopeful. A dragon came up, but didn’t speak, just flew beside them, then dropped back down. Then twenty minutes down, twenty minutes to go, Calvin confirmed that they were on track.

A roar echoed along through the air, startling several flocks of birds, and even a couple of their flying mounts falter.

“Steady,” Grandma called.

“Seems like Celebrant just got the news,” Seth called to everyone.

“Pull in tighter,” Grandpa said, “As close as possible without jeopardizing speed. The less stretched the cloak, the better it will be able to protect us.”

Their mounts obeyed, and Seth started tapping his thigh nervously and checking over his shoulder towards Sky Hold. Five minutes later, according to his watch, because it felt like thirty minutes to him, Seth looked back and saw the streak of adamantine silver wings pushing towards them. Seth forced himself not to look back again.

“What is the meaning of this!” Celebrant demanded pulling to a stop in front of them. Their mounts reared in the air at the block.

“Keep going forward,” Knox called when their mounts pulled up. “he’ll be forced back, just like the first time I was here.”

“He’s right Charlemagne,” Seth called, “Keep going.”

Hesitantly, the mounts started forward again, and Celebrant snarled as he was the one forced back.

“I will not be ignored!” he roared. And it was exactly as terrible as it had been the day he and Kendra had had their interview.

“Uggh,” Seth said, wrinkling his nose, “I see you didn’t take my advice about the breath mints.”

“Do you admit to fleeing your post caretaker?” Celebrant demanded. “I would destroy you for your insolence!”

“As I told your spy,” Seth answered, “I’m not the caretaker. I gave the job back to Marat, and you can’t complain. The Somber Knight fired you for doing a terrible job! Go take it up with Marat back at Blackwell Keep. We’re leaving.”

Celebrant roared again, this time with the full strength of his breath weapon. Four other breath weapons joined from the rest of his entourage.  

Calvin flew up beside him, and as quietly as he could, said, “The barrier is weakening by the Satyrs.”

Oh no. He was used to Kendra holding the magic item, Tess didn’t have the same magic juice in her.

“Tell everyone to get ready to dash,” Seth whispered back. Calvin took off and he took a deep breath.

“Celebrant!” Seth roared back, hoping he was about  “I’ve met babies with better manners than you! We are leaving Wyrmroost in peace. You lie and cheat and still can’t beat a couple of kids. How does it feel to screw up so many times in just two weeks? Now leave us alone, you spineless piece of shit!”

“LANGUAGE!” Grandma yelled.

“Sorry!” Seth yelled back, “Celebrant, back off you piece of rotting troll dung! We’re leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

The breath weapon ceased, and Celebrant looked more livid than Seth had ever seen him. “YOU DARE INSULT ME! I WILL BURN YOUR BONES TO ASH AND FEAST UPON YOUR HORSES —” Celebrant was forced to the side as Charlemagne charged forward.

 “The gate is in sight!” Tanu called.

“YOU FLEE LIKE COWARDS AND FLAUNT OUR CAGE! YOU WILL DIE HERE, SETH SORENSON!”

 “And your mother was a chicken nugget!” Seth shouted over his shoulder, clinging to Nobel with all his might.

Celebrant swiped with claws at the barrier, forcing it to turn temporarily opaque. Another dragon, brown, attacked from above, and the black one struck above the Satyrs, their shrieks were barely heard over the large cracking sound of their barrier.

Options, he needed options! The moment the cloak broke they were all dead. Why hadn’t he claimed the bow from Kendra?

The bag of winds! Seth scrambled, and pulled the small sack out of his adventure kit.

“I have the rear!” he called to his family over the crack of the brown dragon attacking again. “Everyone keep sprinting.”

Nobel resisted a little, but let Seth tug him exactly behind Bagak. He readied the bag of winds as the black dragon swiped. The shield was remaining opaque for longer and longer. The black dragon chomped at the shield, and it shattered. With a roar, Celebrant dived directly for him.

Seth waited until just before Celebrant reached the fading shield, angling it to catch on the flat of his wings. He braced as much as he could without losing his hold on Nobel. Seth opened the bag as wide as it would go. The protection, currently a cracked shell, vanished under his attack. Celebrant was blown off course, his swipe missing—

Celebrant vanished, along with his allies. Seth blinked at the empty sky. Gazing downward, gone were the lush, colorful trees. There was no Blackwell keep in the distance, and no enormous mountain peaks where Thronis watched, probably laughing.

It took a second for the cheering of his friends to hit. But it hit like the colder air and Seth collapsed against Nobel and he dropped the bag of winds. Calvin caught it and flew it back up to him.

“You were awesome,” Seth said to his horse.

“No, you were amazing!” Newel said, inching Rodolfo closer. “We thought it was our turn to become barbeque!”

“Indeed,” Rodolfo said, “You and Nobel showed great courage.”

“I don’t know about you guys,” Seth said, “But I can take a little break before we do that again. And I need a hamburger. Now.”

Doren and Newel absolutely agreed.

[savagesbonergarage]

The Beginning

Maul x reader x Savage

Prompt: "Howdy, it's the anon who requested the Exploring headcanons. May I request a short fic explaining how reader met the boys?"

(a/n: Based on these headcanons. I hope this isn't too long! I tend to get carried away with these really easy so I'm sorry if it's not short enough 😅 I enjoyed this one! I hope you like it! And sorry for the delay! Warnings: none, I think? Maybe slight harassment, idk.)

Secondhand smoke wafted through the dank air of the cantina while the music blared and cups clanked, though there was no particular reason for celebration other than having survived the previous job to work again another day. The local bounty hunters were hogging the transmitters as per usual, all of them extra rowdy and extra desperate for a job that paid enough credits; not that you weren't in the same boat.

Although bounty hunting wasn't your forté, being the navigator for those who did prefer to do the dirty work simply wasn't cutting it lately. More often than not, your piloting skills were robbed by getting these drunk idiots somewhere safe on a particularly bad night. It was your own fault for being foolish enough to do it - but then again, you always were a diplomat at heart. No one else was looking after these nobodies, and truth be told you'd grown fond of their antics. Their constant alcohol-fueled advancements, not so much.

"Baby, you're so *hic* good to me," a drunken weequay slurred as he tugged on your arm, "you gotta let me kiss ya, ya know, ta say thanks."

"You smell like a hutt's refresher, Chev." Your retort didn't seem to phase him, no matter how hard you rolled your eyes. In fact, it only seemed to encourage him.

"A Hutt! Am I a powerful Hutt, like *hic* Jabba? Will you do a little dance for me, baby?"

His reply earned some muffled laughs from many of the men that were listening in, the newbies among them intrigued to see what kind of woman you were, and the regulars in anticipation for what was to come. You even caught a glimpse of Asajj's temporary gaze from her seat in front of you as she seemed ready to lend a hand, knowing that no one with any sense would dare to mess with her. You shot a reassuring look her way, your smirk enlightening her to your intentions as you removed the weequay's grip.

"Tell you what, Chev," you began, a light of hope going off in his face, "If you can steadily walk three whole laps around the bar, I'll do it."

He practically lept out of his skin, spilling his drink all over Embo's anooba which elicited a barrage of vicious growls from the creature, though it's owner held it back.

"Really? You'll *hic* dance for me?!"

You leaned in closer, feigning a silkiness in your voice.

"I'll do more than that."

Chev darted back up onto his feet with all the determination and resolve in the galaxy and fixed his wonky hat.

"I won't disappoint you, m'lady!"

He didn't make it seven steps in before he tripped over his own boot and crashed into the ground. You almost felt bad for leading him on like that, but it was for his own good. One of his buddies bent over to check on him and confirmed that he was down for the count, but okay. Endo mumbled something in his native language about how Chev was as sloppy with his drink as he was with his kills and that if it weren't for you doting on the more pathetic hunters in the area, there would be more jobs to go around. You reminded him of the times you had to rescue his own ass, and he kept quiet.

Still, you couldn't help but ponder the truth of his words. This profession wasn't for people like you, especially not in the service of bounty hunters and the like. Your heart was a little too big for the world of dubious credit-earning, and sympathy wasn't going to keep your ship running.

Your train of thought was broken by the sudden exciting activity surrounding the main transmitter.

"Whoa! A million credits?! Who is this Savage Opress?"

Asajj wasted no time in taking the target for herself, and no one objected. You did manage to get a glimpse of the man the well-paying bounty listed, however - a black and gold-skinned zabrak, with a countenance full of hate and the eyes of a predator. You were intrigued to say the least, and curious as to what kind of wrongdoings occurred to have that large of a bounty placed on his head. There was a pull that tugged at your chest the longer you stared at the holoprojection, as though the force itself were trying to tell you something. You weren't even sure if you believed in the force, but whatever this feeling was, it gradually became overwhelming. The moment Asajj left the vicinity you rose from your seat, determined to find the answers you sought.

*

I might actually be losing my mind this time, you thought as you sat in the cockpit of your ship, watching earnestly as Asajj's ship disappeared from view into the atmosphere. You had strategically placed an untraceable tracker beneath it before she flew off and it seemed to remain undetected the longer you waited, forcing you to commit to your actions. You didn't even know what you were trying to do exactly - steal the bounty from her? Simply follow her to the destination and wait for another sign?

A sigh escaped your lips as the tracker revealed her ships course on your display screen, the far planet of Raydonia coming into view. To head out that far into the galaxy after an infamous bounty hunter chasing a mysterious and likely dangerous bounty was nothing short of insane, and yet you guided your ship into space anyway. You wondered if you would ever spend a night in that cantina again.

You carefully navigated into the belsmuth sector without detection, making sure to maintain plenty of distance between you and Ventress' transport. By the time the lush planet of Raydonia came into view, she had already made contact with the planets surface a few minutes beforehand. You debated on whether or not you should also land your craft, or remain off-world until you had a better idea of what you were even out there for. Settling for the latter, you shifted power to your ships cloaking device and waited. Whether you liked it or not, that overwhelming feeling was telling you that whatever you were seeking would be coming to you - and no, you didn't particularly like it.

I should turn back. I have no desire to cash in on this job, assuming I would even succeed at it. There is... darkness. Maliciousness.

You swallowed as you watched a large vessel that appeared to be a turtle tanker exit Raydonia's atmosphere and a sharp jolt plunged into your chest. It was there, whatever it was. Something sinister. Your survival instincts begged you to flee, to live to work another day and avoid the sure danger that was aboard that freighter, and yet...

The cockpit of the tanker was ejected from the main vessel into space, and you sensed that Asajj wasn't successful in collecting the bounty. Was it your turn? Were you actually going to risk your life for such a dangerous job that you had no chance in hell of surviving? Your nails dug so hard into your arms that painful little half-moons littered your skin and your teeth clenched in frustration. Did you want to die?

Why am I attracted to this darkness? This evil? Why am I here? Maybe it will kill me, but...I have to know.

Your hands seized your ships controls and you pushed forward to the freighter, unsure of what to expect, and even more unsure of what the maelstrom in your heart was made up of. Your little vessel was small enough to dock against the side of the turtle tanker, latching on without a hitch. Any sensible person would absolutely not have done that, let alone shut off all power depriving yourself of any defenses or means of escape. Hell, maybe you did want to die.

Suddenly, you felt it. They sensed you the moment your transport connected to theirs.

There's more than one?

A burning crimson saber penetrated through the durasteel frame, sending sparking embers of warning your way as you left your seat and stood exactly in harm's way with your hands behind your back. The blade was making quick work of the metal, nearly completing a makeshift doorway into the unknown, however you remained unafraid. Against all odds, fear wasn't holding you back; not even after the giant durasteel puck came crashing down to reveal what you had apparently come all this way to find.

The wielder of the saber was none other than the large black and gold zabrak you had glimpsed back at the cantina and beside him was another of his kind, only with vermilion skin that ended at his torso, with strong metal droid-like appendages serving as his legs. They were a sight to behold, fearsome and clearly dangerous, and that darkness...

You didn't have much time to think before the larger of the two zabraks threw you over his shoulder and brought you into the freighter's cargo hold, then threw you down against a pile of shipping containers. You winced in pain yet remained fairly calm, even with the tip of the vicious giant's saber at your neck. His gaze met yours, those luminous golden orbs filled with the beastial rage and hate that served as any predators message to their prey before they were killed. Strangely, it fascinated you. If what was in your heart was reflected in your own eyes, there was no acknowledgment of it in his.

"Savage, who is this?"

Your attention moved to the crimson zabrak at the sound of his surprisingly sultry voice as he moved closer, though it was laced with the intentions of a killer. The darkness enveloped him like a veil of blackness, as though he had been molded by it. For all you knew, maybe he had been. These men likely weren't going to let you leave this vessel alive. The man called Savage uttered a resounding growl, once again making you aware of the deadly weapon at your throat.

"I don't know, brother."

He dug his strong hand into your shoulder and pulled you closer to the hot blade, your skin burning in anticipation.

"Why are you here?"

Your voice was firm, but quiet.

"I wish I knew."

Your answer wasn't satisfactory enough, and Savage grabbed you by the throat and pressed you down onto the hard surface of a container. It was painful and you struggled to breathe, but you didn't lash around or try to pull his hand away when you wrapped your own around his massive wrist. His brother now stood to your side, his countenance displaying curiosity and interest more than anything.

"It seems she's being complacent, Savage. Allow her to speak freely."

He reluctantly released you from his grip, allowing you to slide your back against the cold container as you held and cleared your throat. His saber was still ignited and they both remained menacingly close, not that you were foolish enough to try anything. The red zabrak spoke again, this time asserting his dominance by handling the interrogation.

"How did you find us?"

You felt compelled to relay everything truthfully and without compromise, so you did exactly that.

"I tracked Ventress here. In all honesty, I have no idea what I sought or for what reasons, but I knew she would lead me to it."

Savage growled once more, pointing his saber in your direction.

"Are you a bounty hunter?"

"Only when necessary."

"Did you come here to collect?"

"I considered it. I knew I wouldn't be able to, nor did I think it would be wise to try."

"And yet here you are," Savage's brother interjected, a small smirk tugging at his lips, "Tell me, do you have any idea what we are?"

You analyzed them closely, the pull of the force fueling your answer.

"You're Sith."

He now smiled fully.

"Very observant. I sense that the force is present in you, little one. I assume you have no allegiance?"

You wanted to deny his claim, but deep down you knew he was right. How else would you have gotten yourself in this situation? Furthermore, you suspected if you weren't force-sensitive, you would have died a long time ago.

"Not particularly."

You sensed Savage's frustration before he spoke.

"Brother, we don't have time for this. We need to focus on our mission, not toy around with this girl. Let's dispose of her."

His words were unsettling, yet you still didn't feel afraid. You wondered if you did come here to die after all. His brother must have sensed this among your other winding thoughts, as he knelt down to be closer to you.

"Do you not fear death? Do you not fear us?"

Again, you answered honestly.

"I suppose I should, but no. I don't. I'm not sure why. You're powerful and strong and I sense the atrocities you've committed, but I don't fear it."

"If not fear or anything similar, what is it that you feel?"

You swallowed, part of you wanting to be ashamed, the other longing to admit your truth freely.

"I suppose if anything, I feel...admiration. Perhaps a longing to contribute to whatever cause ignites such passion. I have no desire for power necessarily, but I have a desire to-"

"-to serve?"

You felt so exposed at the realization of your own needs, especially under the watchful eyes of the two Sith Lords that invaded your space. You particularly didn't want to admit to something as submissive as servitude, yet there was no use in denying it. Your face flushed a little before your tone regained it's firmness.

"Kill me if you like. Whether or not I live or die, I won't be leaving this ship. If you do decide to end me, will you give me the satisfaction of knowing your goals beforehand? I want to know what marks the sith intend to make on the galaxy."

The red zabrak nearly chuckled, cupping your chin in his fingers.

"What is your name, little one?"

You relayed it to him, part of you melting after hearing it echo from his lips with that voice of his. He proceeded with his own introduction.

"I am Maul. I was apprentice to the most powerful being in the galaxy once, but a Jedi took all that away from me and more. I suffered for more than a decade with my injured body and mind, until Savage discovered me and I was restored. I have sworn revenge against that very same Jedi who has only just escaped here, and now it is certain that every Jedi will be seeking us."

Revenge, huh? Yeah, that checks out.

Savage was still anxious to get this over with. You pondered Maul's words, your foolish heart finding any sympathy for the Jedi lacking. It already had been ever since the start of the clone war, however that pull once again drew your emotions in favor of the sith. You voiced your suggestions genuinely.

"If that's true, you'll need an army. Experience has shown me that if you have enough credits, bounty hunters will be loyal to anyone. There's no shortage of them among the pirates on Florrum. As for credits, the Meridian sector isn't far from here. I don't think there would be much stopping you from acquiring all that you would need."

Maul smiled. He rose up and offered his hand to you, the heat of his skin unexpected after you took it and got back onto your feet.

"It is the will of the Force. Savage, I believe we have our first recruit."

*

From that moment on, you became the beacon that guided the zabrak brothers across the galaxy. Your navigation and negotiation skills proved more useful than they ever could have imagined. Eventually they grew just as fond of you as you were of them, your relationships nearly bordering on casual romance at times; and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[tails89]

Aliit ori'shya tal'din

Family is more than blood

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Word count: 3700

No pairings

Summary: Din didn’t usually spare much through for annual holidays, Life Day included. There wasn’t much point when one spent most of their time travelling through the vast void of space where days were a monotonous streak of pitch black and starlight.

This year, there is a reason to celebrate.

Read it on AO3

***

It’s the insistent warning from the fuel gauge that forces Din to find somewhere to land. They’ve been traveling for a week, jumping from one quadrant to the next, never coming out of hyperspeed long enough to do much more than input the next set of coordinates and jump again.

Taking out Moff Gideon was supposed to solve their problems but they were yet to reap the rewards. Din can only hope that as word of the Moff’s demise continues to circulate, the hunters who still hold trackers will come to realise there is no longer any payout at the end. Until then, Din and the kid will need to keep moving—until they can be safe.

There’s also the matter of the Jedi.

He’d almost let the Jedi take Grogu after defeating Moff Gideon. The kid needs training. That much is certain, but Din isn’t ready to hand the little womp rat over to someone who may not have the kid’s best interests at heart. The Jedi, Luke, had given Din the coordinates to his school and an invitation to see it for himself. Din plans to take him up on that offer, but not yet.

The alarm whines again, the shrill sound set’s Din’s teeth on edge as he silences it. He misses that about Razor Crest. It had been old, but reliable and he’d known exactly how far he could stretch a full tank of fuel. There are too many things about this new ship that just don’t feel right. The galley is set up in a similar configuration as the old one, but the shelves are just a half step across, and Din has not yet learned to duck.

There’s a noise behind him in the cockpit—the soft patter of tiny feet and a high-pitched coo before a tug on his cloak draws Din’s attention down.

Grogu stares up at him with his large, expressive eyes.

“You want to help me find a place to refuel?”

He lifts the kid up to sit on his lap and drops them out of hyperspace. The kid watches with wide eyes as the long streaks of starlight condense into pinpricks of light.

“Alright.” Flicking up the map, Din presses a button on the console and their location blinks back at them. “This is us.”

The kid reaches for the hologram, one three-fingered hand stretching towards the flashing lights. The other clutches his newest toy—Din hasn’t worked it where it came from, but it’s definitely part of the ship.

Search the nearby planets, Din finds one that meets their requirements.

“Mirador,” he says out loud for the kid’s benefit. “It’s only a few hours away. Quiet, no known Imperial bases. What do you think?”

Grogu coos in agreement, at least, Din decides to take it is agreement. The kid understands more that it seems and is generally pretty good at getting his point across despite the language barrier. He plugs in the coordinates and stands, scooping the child out of his lap. If all goes smoothly and with out fuss, there’s enough time to feed his kid and catch up on a few hours sleep before Din needs to pilot the ship down the to the planet’s surface.

***

“Let’s see what we’ve got in here.”

Din set’s Grogu down on the bench and moves through the narrow space of the galley. They’re completely out of fresh food and Din makes a mental note to restock while they’re down on the planet, before looking at their dry rations. Before finding the child, Din had never been too fussed about eating. It was a necessity for survival, but he’d never taken any particular pleasure from the act. With another mouth to feed—a surprisingly picky mouth considering the things Din had seen swallowed whole—he’d had to expand his options.

Pulling one of the ration bars from the cupboard, Din tears open the packaging and starts breaking it down into smaller chunks, dividing the bar between two cups. Without anything to add to it, the soup will be rather bland, but it has all the nutrients and will be filling.

Carefully adding hot water, Din stirs until the chunks have dissolved, then adds cold water to the smaller cup to bring the temperature down.

“Sorry kiddo,” he says, pushing the cup towards Grogu. “It’s just for one meal. I’ll resupply when we land.”

The kid clutches at the cup, but makes no move to drink, his ears drooping in disappointment at the brown liquid.

“Come on,” Din reasons. “It’s not that bad.” He picks up his soup, lifting his helmet just high enough the raise the cup to his lips. “See?” He says, moving around the end of the bench. “Your turn.”

He passes the end of the shelving, just narrowly remembering to duck his head this time.

The kid giggles and finally drinks.

***

The new ship doesn’t have a sleeping compartment. The Razor Crest hadn’t had one either when Din had first come into possession of it— he’d repurposed a storage cupboard, fitting it out with a mattress and eventually turning it into something almost comfortable.

The new ship has an alcove. It’s not much more than a deep corner where two walls meet, but it’s out of the way, directly under the cockpit and half shielded by the ladder. It can’t be closed off the way the old compartment could, but until Din starts collecting bounties again, it’ll do.

Sitting on the warn mattress, Din starts pulling off his boots. He doesn’t remove all of his armour, just enough to sleep comfortably—the pauldrons, belt, and chest plate— and programs his vambrace to wake him just before they leave hyperspace.

The kid watches him throughout this little ritual, tucked away in his own little nest-bed, his large dark eyes blinking drowsily.

Finally ready to sleep, Din hesitates, his fingers flexing beside his head. After defeating Gideon and rescuing the child, Din had shown Grogu his face. After coming so close the losing the kid, he’d wanted to look at him with his own two eyes, to reassure himself that this was real.

He’d taken to sleeping without his helmet once they’d gone off on their own. Each time he removes it, it gets a little easier, but he’s still learning to reconcile his childhood lessons of the creed and the Re’solnare, and what he’s seen and learned in the last few weeks.

The helmet comes of with a soft hiss and Din sets in on the floor beside his boots. He lies back and closes his eyes, silently counting down in his head. Like clockwork, just as he reaches zero there is a shuffling as Grogu abandons his bed for Din’s.

He shouldn’t encourage it, but the separation had been hard on them both, so instead of sending him back to bed, Din lifts his arm so his kid can burrow in closer.

***

The vibration of his vambrace wakes Din a few hours later.

Careful not to wake the child, he sits up, tugging on his boots and reattaching his armour.

With his helmet tucked under one arm, he climbs the ladder to the cockpit, taking his seat in the pilot’s chair just as the bright streaks of starlight wink out as they leave hyperspace.

Up in the distance, the planet Mirador looms.

The beeping of fuel gauge is insistent now, Din shuts it off with the flick of a switch—he doesn’t need the reminder. The planet is in range and there’s just enough fuel to land—though it will be close.

He disengages the autopilot and locks in on the refueling station he’d scanned earlier. As he approaches the planet, his comms burst to life and he is assigned a bay to land in.

Grogu is awake when Din steps off the ladder. No doubt the loud clanking of the fuel line being attached woke him. He stares up from Din’s bed and voices his disapproval.

“Time to get up, we need to get moving.” Din scoops him up, ignoring the way the child goes limp in an effort to avoid being picked up. Grogu is a fairly easy-going child, despite everything that has happened to him, but he is a child and like some of the younger children back at the covert, prone to the occasional tantrum. Din can only hope this sour mood isn’t building to that.

“You know you can’t stay here,” Din says, carrying Grogu over to the weapons locker to grab his blaster. The kid whines, cranky and still half-asleep. “I know kiddo, but it’s not going to happen.”

He punches in the code to open the locker, ignoring the weapon that hangs beside the blaster—that was another problem Din wasn’t ready to deal with—and holsters the gun before resecuring the locker.

The next challenge is deciding how to carry Grogu.

Mirador’s distance from the nearby sun means that it is covered in snow and ice for the majority of its solar year. The days are short and frigid and Din’s usual method of carrying Grogu in his arms or in a satchel are not going to cut it in this weather.

He fashions a sling by cutting strips from a spare blanket and tying it around his waist. He has to take his cloak off to secure the sling, but once he’s done, he can pull the heavy material of his cloak around them both to stay warm.

When he’s ready, he hits the release for the ramp.

The kid burrows down further into the sling at the first blast of icy air that blows through the hold. Din wraps the cloak tighter around them and steps out into the snow. The heater in his suit helps to keep the frigid air at bay as they make their way towards the market town.

The child settles down after a few minutes, the slow rise and fall of his back against the cloak suggesting he’s asleep.

Good, Din thinks. He can’t imagine anything worse than shopping in the cold with a fussy child and in all honesty, the kid could use the extra sleep. They both could. Between the frequent resetting of their course and the constant vigilance since leaving Moff Gideon’s light cruiser, decent sleep has been few and far between.

The town, when they reach it, is brightly lit against the gloomy weather. The stalls are all outside, but they are each set up with large glowing heaters to keep people, and the wares, from freezing.

Din starts at one of the larger shopfronts, purchasing what he needs to restock the ship. They’re low on most things, the ship having been little more than a shell when it came into his possession, but in a town this small he’ll only be able to find the basic necessities. Fruit and vegetables are almost prohibitively expensive on a planet of Mirador’s type, but the meat seems reasonable.

Once he’s handed over an outrageous number of credits, Din gives instructions for delivery and moves on. He wanders from stall to stall with no real intention of purchasing anything else, just enjoying the opportunity to stretch his legs after a week on a cramped spaceship.

At some point, Din’s going to need to resume work. He’s got enough credits coming in from Dune and Karga to keep him and the kid fed, but he can’t live on their generosity forever. His conscience alone won’t let him. He needs to get back to what he knows, what he’s good at and earn money for the covert… once he finds them.

In the meantime, he’s happy enough to meander through the market. Many of the stalls are decorated and Din wonders if the planet has some local holiday approaching. He’s lost all sense of time in the last few weeks. It’s hard to measure the passage of days when speeding through the endless night of space.

As a Mandalorian he draws many stares as he walks, but the lump under his cloak goes unnoticed in the cold. He feels the child squirm against his chest just as his own stomach starts to rumble. He remembers passing a stall some time back selling hot food, so he doubles back to find it.

In the end, he follows his nose to the vendor roasting some sort of meat.

The Teltior woman looks up warily as he approaches, but Din is used to the stares his armour draws and just gestures for two of the skewers. Inside his cloak, Grogu shifts again, his clawed fingers skittering against the beskar.

“Don’t often see your kind on this planet, Mando,” she says conversationally as she turns the roasting meat on the grill. “Not here to cause trouble I hope.”

At the sound of another voice, Grogu coo’s something in response. Din tightens his hold on the edges of the cloak and shakes his head. “No trouble,” he says, raising his voice to cover the kid’s mumbling.

The Teltior’s eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t say anything else as she cooks. The scent of the roasting meat fills the air and kid makes a loud noise.

“Patience,” Din mutters under his breath, pressing one hand against the kid’s back in an effort to soothe him. He glances up, nervous, hoping the keep the child hidden but the noises from within his cloak become more insistent so Din lets the edges drop before his kid does something drastic, like use those Jedi powers of his.

The kid has his hands planted against the Mandalorian’s chest, twisting away to catch a glimpse of what’s going on behind him. With a silent sigh behind his mask, Din loosens the sling so that he can turn Grogu around and then refastens it.

The stallholder’s eyes go wide at the sight of the small green child, her eyes flicking from the kid up to Din’s helmet as she hands over the sticks of roasted meat and accepts the coins.

“Mine were like that,” she says, the suspicion gone from her tone, replaced with fond amusement. Her eyes are trained on the small green hand that’s come up, reaching for his lunch. “Like a nekarr cat the moment food was served. You’d think I never fed them.”

“Yeah, he uh- eats.” Din takes a half step back, ready to end the conversation and get back to the safety of their ship.

“He’s a cutie,” she continues blithely, leaning forward against the counter. “So, will this be your first Life Day with the little one?”

“Life Day?” His head jerks up, suddenly the decorations make sense. “Uh- yes?” He turns his attention down to the kid who is staring at the food, arms outstretched and grasping.  He hands over one of the skewers and the kid immediately chomps down, babbling happily to himself.

“Cherish this moment,” she says. “They don’t stay this size forever. Next thing you know they’re grown and leaving home.”

***

After escaping the marketplace, Din wanders around looking for a secluded place the eat. He finds a sheltered spot behind a snowy outcrop and sits on the gnarled and folded trunk of a stunted tree.

While they eat, his thought’s drift back to the conversation with the stallholder.

Din didn’t usually spare much through for annual holidays, Life Day included. There wasn’t much point when one spent most of their time travelling through the vast void of space where days were a monotonous streak of pitch black and starlight.

He remembers celebrating the holiday as a child. The memories of his parents are faint and fleeting, the good times overshadowed by the grief of losing them.

Much more vivid, and welcome, are the memories with his buir and the clan—his aliit. It was a time for everyone to come together for good food and good cheer. The children would be given gifts and the adults would tell stories.

Din wants that for his kid.

He sits up sharply, eliciting a squeak from Grogu.

No, not his kid, he corrects silently, wondering when he started referring to Grogu as his in his head. He can’t afford to let himself think like that. As right as the word might feel, Din’s main priority needs to be returning Grogu to his kind—the Jedi.

He glances down at the kid, gnawing on the on the skewer. He’s a mess, his face and smock stained with meat juices. Wiping the worst of it from Grogu’s face, Din decides there’s not much else that can be done for it. They’ll just have to wait until they get back to the ship and he can find the kid a change of clothes.

But first—there’s something he needs to do.

Grogu doesn’t complain to much about being rugged back up. The wind had picked up while they sat, and the cloak offers an extra layer of protection from the icy blast.

They detour through the market on their way back to the ship so Din can pick up a few more things.

***

The light is fading by the time they return to the ship. It’s been refuelled so Din hands over the credits then takes the kid inside out of the cold. All of his earlier purchases have been delivered too, sitting just inside the hold.

Din’s anxious to get moving again, uncomfortable with spending so much time in one spot, but he needs to change Grogu into something clean and put everything away first.

He starts with the kid, unwrapping him from the sling and setting him down on the bed. He takes in the mess with a soft sigh beneath the helmet and collects a clean robe from their meagre box of possessions. Between the two of them they don’t own a lot of clothing. Still—the new outfit will be clean and keep the kid warm until Din can get the heating going again.

“Okay,” he says, holding up the robe. “I’ll make this quick.”

He manages to strip the kid one handed, keeping him still with the other, but the kid wriggles, making a game of the task.

“You’re going to get cold,” Din warns him, struggling to pull the new robe over the long green ears. “Just sit still.” He manages to pull the outfit over Grogu’s head and slip his arms through the sleeves. “I don’t know why you make that so hard every time,” he sighs, exasperated but fond. “I know you understand me.” He digs out one of the toys from their blankets and hands it over to keep Grogu entertained while he moves everything from the hold to the galley. It also gives him the opportunity to hide the gift he’d bought.

Once he’s done, he takes Grogu up to the cockpit—the sealed room will heat faster than the rest of the ship once the life support is engaged. He buckles in the kid and starts flicking the switches the power the engines.

Night has well and truly fallen across the snowy planet as the propulsion engines kick in. The ship rises steadily into the air and Din pilots them up out of the atmosphere. As soon as they’re clear of the planet, Din makes the jump to hyperspace hoping to put some distance between themselves and their last location, then sets the ship to autopilot.

***

Din wakes to the not unfamiliar sensation of something poking his face. It’s how he’s woken most mornings when he is not wearing his helmet—the kid was better than any alarm clock.

It comes again- the gentle pinching of his cheek- and he grabs the kid before the little womp rat can do it a third time. The kid giggles at the manhandling, wiggling against the hand holding him at bay. It’s a favoured game, but one that tends to be played too early. Din himself is an early riser, but somehow his kid just seems to have a knack for knowing when he’s in the deepest cycle of sleep and chooses that moment to wake him.

Today though, he doesn’t mind.

Rising from the bed, Din searches his hiding spot for the little cloth wrapped bundle.

“This is for you,” he says, returning to sit, legs crossed in front of the bed and setting down the gift. “Happy Life Day kid.”

It isn’t much— a couple of small toys so the kid will stop stealing ship parts and a new tunic. Grogu takes his time picking up each toy and holding them up to show Din, chattering away in excitement.

Din wonders if he understands the significance of this day, if anyone else has celebrated with him in the last fifty years or if, as far as Grogu’s concerned, today is just another day.

For Din, Life Day has always been day for family.

Is that what they are?

Family. A clan of two.

After everything they have gone through together, everything Din has done for the sake of the child. Everything he would do—are they not family?

Din’s entire worldview has shifted in the scant few months since he’d taken on a bounty and found a child. He’d removed his helmet—an act he swore he would never do in the presence of another living thing. He’d broken his creed for Grogu, yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Everything he’d done in his desperation to rescue Grogu had been worth it.

Grogu needs the Jedi, he needs to be trained… but as a child surely he needs more than that? Din wants him to have more than that.

“Grogu, hey.” He pulls the kids attention away from the toys he’s gleefully smashing together. “I-” he licks his lips against the sudden dryness in his mouth. It shouldn’t be this hard. He is a Mandalorian, the beroya for the tribe, master of the darksabre, the weapon of the Mandalor.

As though he can sense Din’s internal struggle, Grogu stands, reaching up for Din.

Taking one little green hand in his, Din steady’s his thoughts with a breath, and speaks the words that will make them family.

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad.”

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums: My first video about Depeche Mode--and it’s about their first album! I think it’s pretty good, but a lot of people HATE it. Are you intrigued? Take a listen, or read the transcript, and see where you fall!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be looking at the somewhat rough start of one of the most iconic bands in the history of electronic music: Depeche Mode, and their 1981 debut, Speak & Spell. While Depeche Mode are certainly a beloved band, many of their fans actively revile Speak & Spell. What’s wrong with it? Well, it has songs that sound like this.

Music: “Just Can’t Get Enough”

“Just Can’t Get Enough” isn’t exactly the kind of song Depeche Mode are associated with--though it did make an entry in the charts, and remains fairly well known today, largely thanks to its use in advertising. The band’s “classic run,” spanning roughly from the mid-80s to the mid-90s, saw them achieve substantial mainstream adulation, as a pop act peddling dark and gothic themes, and maintaining a substantial electronic element to their music, without ever becoming inaccessible to rock listeners. They were even “rock and roll” enough to consistently break America, which is no small feat for, essentially, a synth-pop band from England. That synth-pop heritage dominates the sonic palate of Speak & Spell, and it’s hard to imagine a die-hard rock fan vibing with upbeat, almost saccharine pop ditties like “What’s Your Name?”

Music: “What’s Your Name?”

Of course, “What’s Your Name?” has another big problem besides favouring bright, chirping synth riffs over the guitar-based chug of tracks like “Personal Jesus.” Its seemingly homoerotic lyrics might be said to constitute the first instance of Depeche Mode engaging in what we might call musical “queer-baiting.” Thumbing their noses at norms of sexuality and gender presentation have earned the band a substantial queer following throughout their career, but it’s not such a smart move if you’re trying to attract macho rock listeners, and get yourself into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Part of the reason why Depeche Mode were ultimately able to do those things, later in their career, is that they had a pretty handy scapegoat: Vince Clarke. Clarke was a founding member of the band, and as the chief songwriter for all but two tracks on Speak & Spell, he was unequivocally the creative force driving the album. Conveniently enough, Clarke not only departed from Depeche Mode immediately after this first album, but went on to serve as an integral member of two unequivocally poppy duos, Yazoo and Erasure. But as easy as it is to simply blame Vince Clarke’s interest in cheerful pop for the apparent failures of Speak & Spell, this hypothesis doesn’t hold up. Some Clarke-penned numbers, like “Puppets,” are at least as gloomy as anything from the mind of Martin L. Gore, who took over songwriting duties on every subsequent Depeche Mode LP.

Music: “Puppets”

“Puppets” is pretty far from a feel-good song. Those fairly bright synths remain, but here, they feel more like a tense crescendo of violins, as something goes poorly in a horror film, and a serrated synth stab answers them from below. Dave Gahan’s semi-whispered delivery of the vocals, which narrate the perspective of a manipulative and controlling partner, add even more to its sinister ambiance. Given only a minor aesthetic facelift, “Puppets” could fit just fine onto most other Depeche Mode albums, even if Clarke did write it. I actually think the softer, poppier touches this track DOES have serve it well, and make it feel a bit insidious--like a lover who seems loveable and charming at first, before revealing their abusive tendencies over time. Another track that really benefits from creating tension between pop fluff and things macabre is the striking “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead.”

Music: “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead”

“I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead” features an almost gratingly toylike synth riff, that reminds me a bit of those custom cell phone ringtones from the 00s. Its lyrics are also almost painfully chipper, at least at first, as is Gahan’s infantile delivery of them...but there seems to be some irony there. While that provocative title doesn’t actually appear, the song seems to be obliquely telling a story of someone dealing with a breakup, albeit cloaked in this eerily sunny music. International editions of *Speak & Spell* would remove this track in favour of the non-album A-side “Dreaming of Me,” presumably targeting it for its inflammatory title and short runtime of just over two minutes. “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead” is a powerful reminder that just because something has a shiny pop veneer doesn’t mean it’s disposable, or that it lacks in artistic complexity.

Still, if you’re in the market for something that feels more like “classic” Depeche Mode, Speak & Spell can deliver on that front as well. Look no further than Gore’s contributions to the album, such as “Tora! Tora! Tora!” With its frantic refrain, and troubling themes of nuclear holocaust, “Tora! Tora! Tora!” feels more like Depeche Mode’s classic run than just about anything else on Speak & Spell, prefiguring iconic tracks like “Leave In Silence” and “People Are People” quite well.

Music: “Tora! Tora! Tora!”

Speak & Spell’s cover is certainly strange and a bit opaque, showing some sort of bird in its nest from a very low angle. The background is almost entirely a lurid, artificial-looking pinkish red, with no other recognizable figures to ground this landscape in reality. Between the chaotic textures of the nest, and the surreal emptiness of the scene, it comes across as a sort of nightmare world, albeit one populated by only this fairly non-threatening creature...that we know of. If we look closely at that bird, we can start to see what looks like a transparent veil covering its neck and head. I like to interpret this image as a representation of the natural world, destroyed by human callousness: an animal suffocates under a sheet of plastic, while the sky behind it glows red with bombs “raining from the sky,” as in “Tora! Tora! Tora!”

Despite the title, you won’t hear any samples of the titular toy on Speak & Spell--though Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark would famously incorporate some on their album Dazzle Ships, a few years later. The title “Speak & Spell” would seem to suggest the album’s light, playful tone, and sense of pop novelty. A Speak & Spell is, of course, a fun and entertaining toy, which repeats the same handful of things over and over, as a pop song might be played *ad infinitum* on the radio. Perhaps the way the songs sneak a darker emotional undercurrent past their listeners is parallel to how the toy covertly educates children in basic spelling, while also being amusing to fool around with.

After Speak & Spell, it took several more years for Depeche Mode to really find their footing, and launch into that classic period of theirs where they released most of their best-loved material. Despite the absence of Vince Clarke, their sophomore LP, A Broken Frame, is stylistically rather similar to Speak & Spell, and pairs somber tracks like “The Sun and the Rainfall” and “My Secret Garden” with some very upbeat ones like “The Meaning of Love.” If the fact that Clarke could write “Puppets” didn’t sell you on my assertion that he isn’t the singular problem with Speak & Spell, the fact that Martin Gore wrote “The Meaning of Love” should serve as proof that the desire to make catchy pop tunes didn’t rest solely on any one person’s shoulders.

Music: “The Meaning of Love”

My favourite track from Speak & Spell is the opener, “New Life.” “New Life” was also released as a single and made substantial headway in the charts, though it doesn’t seem quite as well remembered as “Just Can’t Get Enough.” Like “I Sometimes Wish I Was Dead,” “New Life” is almost disgustingly catchy and hooky, but hides some surprisingly dark lyrics. But I’ll freely admit that I don’t particularly have some sophisticated, intellectually justified reason for liking this song the most, besides just thinking it’s a real toe-tapper. While I’ve gone to great lengths to dispel the idea that Speak & Spell is nothing but cheerful pop, I’d also like to point out that simply being cheerful pop isn’t exactly a musical sin. Whether you like it or not, it’s certainly far from easy to write a great pop song that stands the test of time, the way tracks like “New Life” and “Just Can’t Get Enough” have, and simply pointing out that they’re not as morose as later Depeche Mode songs isn’t a worthwhile criticism of them. While I enjoy a lot of more gothic music myself, I think a work of art that elicits the emotion of joy has as much of a shot at being a Great Album as one that wants to make us angry, sad, or afraid. On that note, I’ve reached the end of my video--as always, thanks for listening.

Music: “New Life”

[hey-its-nonny]

Chapter five!

enjoy lovelies <3

warnings: mostly just fluff :)

~~~~~

Dinner had been wonderful.

You all shared stories of old adventures and mishaps before you’d become the right group you were, the laughter afterwards a gift that each of you would never forget.

Aragorn had certainly taken a liking to Legolas, the feeling having nothing to do with the fact that the elf had saved his life, and more importantly, yours.

Aragorn felt it because of the way Legolas treated you with such respect. It was hard to find a good man, or elf in this case, who respected women and men equally in this age, so it was a quality he was surely grateful for. But he was also ready to protect or defend you should the need arise.

He’d observed the two of you interact, finding that you both brought the child out of each other every once in a while, with silly competitions and playful banter. Aragorn was happy you had someone other than him to be friends with after all of these years.

You hadn’t been quick to trust Legolas for the first few days, you would admit that. But when Legolas had saved Aragorn, then saved you, it was fairly easy to trust him and to know that he didn’t have poor intentions.

You just hoped the feeling was mutual.

It was a cold and sunny day in Rohan. You’d woken up earlier than the others, so you decided to get dressed and start your day. Children were roaming about in the bitter cold, laughing while they sledded down the small slopes and hills. You didn’t mind the chill when you got to watch children be happy like this.

You tugged the thick cloak that was draped relaxedly on your shoulders tighter, relishing in the warmth it so selflessly brought you. You took a deep breath with closed eyes, spitefully breathing the cold air in as if to say, ‘I’m finally on holiday.’

Footsteps approached you from behind, though you didn’t hear them, still lost in thought. A slender, yet strong hand was placed on your shoulder, startling you from your thoughts. You jumped, and grabbed the arm attached to the owner’s hand, twisting it behind their back.

You whipped your head around to see a pained Legolas, groaning in discomfort. For Valar’s sake. You gasped and immediately let go, gently placing a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “Legolas! Sincerest apologies, mellon. I mistook you for a stranger.” You amended, checking to make sure if he was alright.

“Ú-moe edaved, Y/N.” The elf replied, rolling his shoulder back to relax his now tense arm. You relaxed beneath the words, allowing yourself a sigh of relief. You inhaled, ensuring you were wrapped tightly in the cloak the elf beside you had gifted to you. “Did you need to speak with me? I assume my.. response was a distraction from the conversation.”

Legolas looked angry, an unreadable emotion behind his blue eyes while he stared you down. You’d have started to panic if the elf hadn‘t started to laugh at your choice of words.

His expression went almost completely neutral, the remains of a smile etched on his lips. You rolled your eyes, unable to bite back the laugh that fought its way past your lips. “I was simply seeing if you were alright, mellon.” The elf explained, his gaze fixating on the joyful children just like you did. “Aragorn was worried for you.” He admitted, drawing a bit of guilt out from the pit of your stomach.

You smiled, shuddering at the cold breeze that pushed past your legs. It was getting to be too cold outside for you. So, you huffed, turning your head to face Legolas. “Would you like to go get cider? I believe I’ll turn into ice if I stay in this weather much longer.” You asked, another shiver running down your spine.

The elf looked at you for a moment, then nodded, jokingly extending his arm. “I would. Let’s make haste. I can’t have my friend turning into ice, now can I?” He hummed, tone light and playful as it normally was.

You nodded, making a mental note to blame your blush on the cold.

~~~

Once indoors, by a warm fire with a mug of hot cider, you and Legolas sat at a table, talking about the most random things. “Where is Aragorn?” You asked, brows knit together in slight worry. “I have not seen him today.”

Legolas hummed, cerulean blue eyes scanning your face carefully. “He said he planned on meeting with a man today. With whom, I do not know.” He explained, reaching his hand forward just a bit as if to grasp your hand comfortingly, before he withdrew his hand and placed it on his lap. You did not like the idea of Aragorn being alone again.

“If he is not back by tonight, I was instructed to take you with me and search for him.” He added, eyes swirling with a gentle sympathy. You took a sip of the cider, nodding quietly as your thoughts took hold of you, gaze fixated on the fire.

What if you and Legolas couldn’t save him? That was your best friend. If you lost him, you didn’t know what you would do. You’d lost family once, you couldn’t lose it again.

“Y/N? Mellon nîn, are you alright?” Legolas asked, concern written across his elven features. You shook your head, as if to push the negative thoughts away. “I am okay, Legolas. My thoughts merely stole me away for a moment.” You explained, doing nothing to wipe the worry from your friend’s face.

The elf didn’t seem convinced. “You’re sure of this?” He asked, going expressionless while you nodded. He almost seemed sad, but there were times when you couldn’t tell. Legolas

Legolas stood, determination set in the eyes you grew more confused with and fond of with every glance. “I will only be a moment, Y/N.” He explained, heading out of the doors to leave you alone at the table.

You sat alone, still and quiet in slight shock of your friend leaving you. Odd. But you let it be, finding no point in chasing him. You took a sip of your cider, training your eyes on the door for when Legolas walked in.

After a few minutes, Legolas came back in, holding what looked like a large sled in his left arm. He approached you, chuckling at the evident confusion on your face. “Come.” He requested, offering his free hand to you. You took it, standing up with a huff.

“Where are we going?” You inquired, raising a brow. “Sledding, Mellon Nîn.” He hummed, dragging you out of the door. Legolas never quite let your hand go after that.

~~~

You stood at the top of a hill with Legolas, almost giddy with excitement. The sled Legolas bought was big enough for the both of you, so you sat down, waiting for Legolas to get behind you.

Finally, the elf sat behind you, your back pressed against his chest. And, for some reason only the Valar knows, your heart started racing. You couldn’t help but focus on the proximity of the elf behind you, the smell of warm, spiced cider and smoke swirling in the air behind you.

Legolas tapped your shoulder, shaking you from your thoughts. “Y/N? Are you ready?” He gently asked, taking hold of the rope in front of you. You grinned cheekily, subconsciously leaning against the elf’s chest. “I am.” And with that, you were off racing down the hill.

You laughed, sitting up a bit to enjoy the wind blowing against your face, careful not to get it in Legolas’ face. The snowy scenery sped past you as you neared the end of the hill, leaning back against Legolas’ chest again. You felt a rumble against your back, your heart nearly melting at the melodious sound of Legolas’ quiet chuckle behind you.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you stood, attempting to hide it with your hand. Though you’d never admit it, you never liked your smile when you saw it in your reflection. So you tried to hide it when you could.

But Legolas caught on, gently grasping your hand to remove it from over your mouth. “Do not hide your smile, Mellon. It is worth more than you know.” He added, releasing your hand with a slight hum.

Your cheeks were lit aflame at that, whatever it was, and you could barely force yourself to trudge on behind the elf. You walked on, going right back up the hill to do it all over again.

Once you were back at the top of the hill, you sat down on the sled with Legolas behind you, your smile as wide as ever. Then, you slowly drifted down the hill, speeding up as you progressed.

You closed your eyes, your smile softening as you glided down the hill. It felt freeing to do things like this with Legolas. The freezing wind against your skin and the love and warmth it brought out of you. Simply being with Legolas was freeing.

He made you feel like there wasn’t anything in this world that the two of you couldn’t handle. He made you feel invincible, but somehow so very alive and of this world at the same time. He brought out the good in you.

These were the thoughts that you kept with you while you sledged down the hill with Legolas, unable to bite back the joyous laugh that bubbled in your throat.

You took a glance at the passing scenery around you, gasping at the rock your sled approached. “Legolas, the rock!” You warned, slight panic setting in as the rock came closer and closer. The elf averted the sled best he could before you hit the rock, grunting in struggle.

You curled up a little, your reflexes getting the better of you and you both went over the rock, sending you flying off the sled. Strong arms wrapped around you, protecting you from the cold snow and the initial impact of hitting the ground.

You and Legolas tumbled down the hill, panic once again turning into laughter. Legolas let go of you once you were both safe and at the bottom of the hill, chuckling at the sudden change of events. “Are you alright?” The elf asked, sitting up to shake the snow from his silvery hair.

You nodded, your own laugh ringing in the cold air as you sat up. “More than alright, Mellon. Thank you.” You grinned, ignoring the chill that seeped to your very bones. “Are you?” You returned, twisting your torso, then the rest of your body to make sure he was alright.

But instead of any injuries, you were met with the warmest, most genuine smile you’d ever seen with Legolas. “I am,” He replied kindly, standing up to offer you a hand. “but I think that I have had enough sledding for today.” He chuckled, picking up the battered sled with a sigh.

Then, once you were up, you began walking back to the inn to wash up.

This time, you were the one who never let his hand go.

~~~~~

Okay so there’s more fluff on the way in the start of the next chapter, but i just really wanted to get this one out and release it so it can be done.

tag list: @elvish-sky @themerriweathermage@from-patroclus-with-love @iwenttomordor@wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse@redheadedfaye @ophieles @raven-emxralds @ahs0katan

(it won’t let me tag you >:((( )

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Redemption, My Love

Chapter 9  Cursed TV 2020  Lancewain Explicit Cross Posted to AO3 i highly recommend reading the tags on AO3 but in short:  Past mentioned child abuse and rape/noncon, religious fanaticism, Enemies to friends to lovers, slowburn, trauma, angst, eventual fulff. ETC. ++++Gawain++++ In less than a second Gawain's eyes flick across the clearing around them. Quickly he snaps his head towards The Weeping Monk. The ring of steel fresh in his ears and all encompassing. The Monk is standing over him. He has seconds to move. Instinctively he pushes the boy away from himself and rolls back, sticky hot blood coats his face and chest and he gets to his feet. He’s unbalanced and slips on moss slick stones as he draws his sword. Lancelot places himself between Percival and a man in red, one already growing cold at his feet. A second glance around the clearing and forest edge tells him that there are eight more. It’s unavoidable now for any choice but combat. He hadn't truly thought they would find another way out of this, but between the exhaustion of traveling, The Monk's wounds and Percival's lack of skill he had clung to hope.

“The boy was right. Your tracks led us right to you.” One of them says, stepping forward and addressing him. He glances to the side and glimpses Percival wiping at his eyes, and The Weeping Monk ready to defend him. He would have no choice but to thank him if they survived this. Right after he asks him how he hadn’t smelled them coming so close. Of course he himself hadn’t heard them either, the more rational side of his mind supplies. He tucks it away to deal with later. For now there is about to be bloodshed and he needs to be ready.  Four to one. He grips the hilt of his blade tighter aware that he has certainly seen worse odds. Survived worse odds. Side stepping, he moves away from the creek until he is side by side with the other Fey. He contemplates telling Percival to run, but if anyone gives chase he will be unable to aid the boy. Instead he looks The Monk over, notes the tension in his stance, ready to spring, to attack. Percival shifts behind him, switching his weight between his feet.  “Oh ‘ell look at t’is boys. T’e Abbit will ‘e proud a us, fer t’is. The ‘eeping Monk. ‘e r’lly is a traiter. Helpin’ t’e Fey!” The obvious leader of the group calls out and the others rally a cry behind him. Gawain watches as they fan out around them. Circling them like wolves circle their prey. He doesn’t have a choice regarding The Monk now. Either The Weeping Monk will stab him in the back, or will guard it. He turns his back on the lesser of two evils and prays for a miracle. “Percival, stay low. Do not fight them unless you have to,” rasps The Monk Behind him, voice low, dangerous and airy.  “Do as he says.” Gawain hears his own voice say and shakes his head. He never dreamed a day would come when he agreed with The Weeping Monk so easily that he didn’t even have to think about it. That he would tell another to obey those orders. “Yes sirs.” Percival manages. He can hear the boy shift, hear the steady shallow breathing of Lancelot beside him, too shallow for combat, the silence in the woods and the babbling and bubbling of the brook. The rest of the world falls away as he focuses on the men baring teeth and swords at him. “‘’ell Boy’s. Get’em.” Gawain meets them head on. Neither he nor The Weeping Monk wait for their enemies to reach them first. He blocks the blow from one and turns into an arced swing felling another of the paladins. Turning back he catches the first with his foot and as he falls drives his blade deep through his side.  Turning, he ducks beneath another blow, only to feel the impact of a blunt object against his side and sees The Weeping Monk take a knee. He stumbles, draws his blade back and lashes out, catching another paladin in the shoulder, just enough to draw blood. His own ribs, bruised and fractured send stinging pain through his side and he gasps for air as he blocks another blade from making contact with him. Rolling to the side he narrowly avoids being stabbed, catalogues the bleeding on his arm as non lethal and dances out of the way of his opponents. He catches the arm of a paladin, holds it steady against his side as he thrusts his blade through another red clad man and turns as the body struggling in his grasp goes limp. Another blade is removed from a paladin's stomach and Gawain lets the corpse fall away, locks eyes with Lancelot briefly and turns back to the others. He notes that Lancelot is breathing heavily, and grimacing in pain. Likely from whatever had brought him to his knees earlier. There isn’t time to let it distract him as the leader of the group comes at him. This paladin is slightly more skilled than the rest, and Gawain takes a several moments longer to bring him to the ground, but succeeds with a well placed thrust of his blade, just beneath the heart, through the lung and spine.The sound of shouting causes him to turn in a hurry; Lancelot is engaged with two Paladins, and one falls as he too turns to see what's happened. Seeing a moment of vulnerability the Paladin attempts to put an end to The Monk. He turns back to his opponent as Gawain, closer to the boy, rushes forward. Percival is trapped beneath a paladin and Gawain can’t see if he has his knife or not. Before he can reach him, the man stops struggling and gurgles, choking on his own blood instead. The hilt of a knife glistens red as it protrudes from the edge of a long, jagged slice on the man's neck. The sound of breaking bones reaches him as Percival struggles out from beneath the man covered from head to toe in dark red blood. Gawain offers him a hand up which he takes and they turn to Lancelot who drops the corpse of the final paladin to the ground and picks up his own blade. They share a look. “Stay with Lancelot. I’m going to ensure none got away.”  Percival nods at him, but doesn’t move. The blood has caught in tear tracks on his face, and the image is almost the reverse of the monk's own marks. It takes Gawain aback for a moment. Finally, taking a deep breath and wincing at the pain in his side, he leads the boy, more forcefully than necessary, by the shoulders until he stands between the monk and himself. Lancelot gives him a nod and reaches out for the boy. As soon as Percival is in Lancelot's grasp, Gawain's sprints up the hill. It doesn’t take him long to walk the perimeter. He finds no signs that any escaped the skirmish. When he returns to the clearing, Lancelot is washing blood from Percivals shirt, while the boy bathes silently down stream.The water is freezing, but Gawain would have told the boy to do the same. He kneels across from the Monk and starts on another of Percival’s clothing items. He notes the monk's cloak is gone, but says nothing. It’s not as though they have much in the way of spare clothing and while he doesn’t know him well, he has a hunch that he’s given it to Percival to stay warm with. “Any injuries?” “No, he is… Shaken. But he is unharmed.” He acknowledges this with a nod, and waits. When Lancelot doesn’t continue he presses. “And you, Lancelot?” “I’m fine.”  Blue eyes flick up to meet his own and linger, he seems surprised at the use of his name. “ I’ve only aggravated my ribs. You?” “I’ll have a few new bruises. Nothing terrible, nothing new.” He glances down stream towards Percival, and finds him wrapped in Lancelot's cloak and sitting on a rock. “That cut is bleeding, fairly bad.” It catches him off guard, he had forgotten about it in the midst of battle and his panic for Percival. He looks at it now and pushes away the torn edges of his sleeve to get a better look. “Seems I’ll need stitches,” he notes but doesn’t stop working on the task at hand. “How is it you didn’t notice them?” The accusation is clear despite the even tone and the radiant calm of his voice. “As I said before, the scent is thick. They’re all I can smell...mostly. It’s overwhelming enough I can’t tell what is old and new.” Gawain considers this for a moment, and grinds his teeth. “I will not hesitate to kill you if you do what you did in that thicket again.”  Lancelot looks up at him, grinds his teeth and nods. Taking another deep breath and pursing his lips Gawain continues, “Still, I owe you thanks, for saving our lives three separate times today. Thank you.” Lancelot shakes his head and sits back on his heels. “Don’t. It is the least I can do.” Gawain loses himself studying the look on the others face. Without his cloak he looks rather handsome, young and very lost. Far from the deadly wraith of the stories. “Are you finished with that? I’ll lay it out to dry.” Gawain glances down, embarrassed and shakes his head, “yes.” He hands the garment over and Lancelot wrings it out. Standing he walks to the narrow bend in the stream and crosses. “Squirrel?” The boy startles, expectedly, and turns towards him. “May I?” Percival nods, and Gawain sits next to him. He wishes he knew what to say, to do. He knows his words will be empty and meaningless right now, but perhaps in the future they won't be. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you were very brave, Percival. What you did wasn’t easy.” The boy looks at the ground and nods. Percival looks up at him now, large brown eyes red and swollen from tears. Instinctively he reaches for the boy, and Percival clings to him, gripping hard enough it will leave bruises where it digs into skin instead of armor. The words he may have said die in his throat, instead he lets his actions speak. ++++Lancelot++++ He wants to give them time.To avoid intruding on a private moment, but the light is fading faster as night grows closer. The dark will bring wild animals drawn by the smell of blood, and it is unwise to linger longer than they must. Percivals clothing will take some time to dry, but between his extra shirt, and Gawain's extra trousers they can dress him suitably enough to travel. Beggars coast is still a days ride over the fields, and strategy says to make that jaunt during daylight. Still, the smell of blood is turning his stomach and with every moment they dally it grows more dangerous to remain. He searches through his saddle bag for the shirt; Bliant had washed it while he was injured. It would be large on Percival but it would be better than just the cloak. Squaring his shoulders he approaches slowly, and more noisily than he normally would. Combat put the best soldiers on edge, he didn’t need to spook Gawain, nor did he wish to frighten Percival more than he already had been. He remembered vividly the first time he took a life, and though he did not wish to care for the boy, his heart ached for his sadness. He scolded himself internally. He should not get attached, nor should he allow the boy to get attached to him, and yet with every passing day that is exactly what was happening. Even Gawain did not look at him quite like an enemy, but more as one might look at a soldier of unknown origins. Like he was truly beginning to question The Monk’s allegiances. Gawain turns and acknowledges him so he approaches less cautiously. Percival is still burrowed into the knight's chest, but he isn’t crying. The smell of blood lingers on his skin, masked slightly by the boy's own scent, the smell of the creek, Lancelot's own cloak, and the recognizable scent of Gawain's blood. He glances at the offending wound pointedly then turns to Percival. “Percival, I brought you my extra shirt.” His voice is steady and calm. Holding the shirt out to the boy he tries for gentleness that he does not feel and Percival looks at him, takes the shirt and hiccoughs a thank you. He can’t hear it, but he's certain that's what it looks like when the boy says the words. He turns back to the horses and starts checking their tack. He doesn’t need to do it per se, but he wants to give Percival a little privacy, and he is hoping Gawain will understand the look he gave him. Sure enough the Knight joins him, just as cautiously as he had approached them before. “You think we need to get moving.” Straight to the point, no hesitation or beating around the bush. “Yes. The scent of blood carries farther than one might expect,” he responds casually, not making eye contact, and focusing on keeping his voice steady. Finally, after several long moments of silence he glances to his left and watches Gawain think, jaw clenched and eyebrows knit together in serious consideration. The bronze light of twilight glints off his hair, highlighting strands of lighter blond and red, softening his features. The treetops are coated in the same golden glow, and to the west, orange and vibrant pink color the horizon. “I agree with you. But… I am not certain we should go out into the flatland to camp. What are your thoughts about remaining in the forest?” He has never been asked his thoughts before and for a moment he doesn’t know how to answer. It has been his responsibility to be nothing more than obedient to Carden and the others over him. Or inversely, to give orders in their place. To speak of his opinions is not something he has experienced freedom with. The result of speaking his mind openly was always punishment; so, he hesitates, meets Gawain's eyes to show he is thinking, clenches his jaw and unclenches it several times and decides to answer carefully. He knows that he has plenty of experience to make a decision on the matter, but he wishes to remain in Gawain’s good graces and knows after his earlier actions he is on thin ice. “I’ll defer to your wisdom, but I think I would rather our chances on the flatland.” He finally utters the words, looks away from Gawain's eyes and to the right, past his shoulder instead. He focuses on breathing through his mouth, and it’s almost worse— the taste of blood sits heavy on his tongue. Though he isn’t sure if he is actually tasting it, or if his brain is filling in the missing details based on the scent of it. He catches Gawain studying him again as he asks more questions. “Why?” Gawain asks like his opinion matters at all. Without looking back he studies the bark of the tree in his line of sight and answers politely, “If there was one group of Paladins there is bound to be another nearby. On the flatland we can run, even in the dark without much trouble. If we get attacked in the woods, we are limited in our escape options.” Gawain shifts in his peripheral, a nod of his head, he can feel the others gaze on him, scrutinizing.When he answers he sounds torn, upset by his own words.  “Unfortunately, I agree with you.” He tilts his head to the side and turns to more fully face the knight of the Fey. That was not what he had expected. It doesn’t matter that he can see the bags that hang beneath the knight’s eyes, of the exhaustion and worry he carries in his shoulders, that he agreed so readily and without much persuasion concerns Lancelot to his core. He shakes his head to avoid those thoughts for now, and tucks them away to consider this evening when he is on watch and Percival has inevitably fallen asleep again. “Your wound needs tending before we do anything.” He glances at the brown red sleeve of Gawain's left arm and wrinkles his nose. Gawain follows the look and sighs. “Are you any good?” He looks up fast enough to make his neck ache. “At?” “Stitches.” Gawain isn’t looking at him now, the ground much more interesting than his face had been a moment ago. “Yes.” The admission is barely a breath among the sounds of the creek. Gawain nods, “Would you mind?” He motions to his arm with his chin. “No.” Gawain nods again. “Alright, let me take Percival my extra set of trousers.” “Percival, We need to get ready to move. See if you can make these trousers work until yours have dried.” The Green Knight's tone makes him flinch and he knows the harshness is meant to get Percival’s attention and nothing more, but it unsettles him as he watches the scene unfold. The boy looks up at him and blinks slowly twice over before he reaches out a trembling hand and takes the offered item from Gawain. Lancelot swallows back the words in his throat. His words will be of no use here. He tears his eyes away from the deep set frown and glistening green eyes of Percival’s face and focuses instead on listening to their surroundings, focusing on anything but the fact that ultimately Percival being forced to take a life is more blood on his hands. This is his fault and he wonders what Gawain will do when he realizes it. He digs in Goliath’s saddle bags for his set of needles to keep his mind focused. The sound of buckles being undone catches his attention but he stays focused as he cuts a hair from Goliaths mane. He threads it and turns to Gawain who is rinsing his shirt in the stream. It makes sense. He waits patiently for Gawain to finish and join him. It would be a lie to say he isn’t startled by the lack of raised scarring from the Archangels or from the other atrocities inflicted on the other man. He forces his eyes not to linger over the scared expanse of The Green Knight's chest and arms. Instead he focuses on the wound to his bicep, presses the skin together to see where to start the stitches and clenches his jaw. Whether he is gentle or not he does not know, Gawain barely makes a sound as he works, though his breathing hitches a few times. Lancelot knows this is not his first time getting stitches on the battlefield. Finished with stitching the wound, he reaches for the bandages and the small container of salve Bliant had sent with them. He smears the thick herbal smelling paste over the wound and holds his breath in the process. The herbs certainly smell better than the blood, well most of the blood, but at this proximity are too strong. With practiced efficacy he bandages the wound. Then without thinking it through he says, “I also recommend that we don’t light a fire. I know it would be convenient, may even seem necessary,” he glances in Percivals direction, “to warm him up and for the benefit of warm food, but…“ He trails off unable to say what he means. If they light a fire and there are more paladins around, then the boy may have to repeat his actions again, and right now, in the condition he is in that could be deadly. “I know. I’m worried about him too.”  “I...“ Gawain smiles sadly at him and turns to redress in his spare shirt and don his armor. Silently he checks the tack on his own mare. They work in silence going over their supplies. Eventually, Gawain leads his own horse over to Percival, swallowed in the depths of clothing and cloak. He follows with Goliath in tow. Neither of them talks about the good it will do to remove him from the sight of the battle field. It goes unspoken between the soldiers the way experienced musicians change keys without more than a subtle glance and tlilt of the head at one another. ++++Nimue+++ Waking to pain and numbing cold was not what she expected. Not that she could really say she expected to wake at all. The last memories she has are of pain and shocking cold. The memory of falling and hitting water at an achingly speed, unable to even cry out, paralyzed by fear and agony. She tries to open her eyes but they won't obey. They feel heavy and she resigns herself to leaving them closed. She tries to open her mouth but that too refuses to obey and she wonders if maybe she is dead. Her hands are warm though, warmer than the rest of her and she can’t figure out why. She tries to open her eyes again and still the most she gets is the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheek. The cold makes her over sensitive and she is acutely aware of the loss of heat in her right hand. “Merlin! Wake up. Merlin!” Pyms voice says, loud and far away. She would smile if her cheeks weren’t so stiff. “What? What is it?” The voice of the aged magician, her father, responds and the previously weak grasp on her left hand renews its hold, tight, almost painfully so. “I think she might be trying to wake up.” “Why?” “Her eyelids fluttered, and her mouth twitched.” Nimue tries to open her eyes again and fails, instead she wills the stiffness in her fingers away and tries to squeeze her fathers hand. She feels the barest twitch of her own fingers, stiff as those of a corpse and wants to cry. She’s here, but she can’t communicate it. She feels something warm and damp on her forehead; the liquid trails down her temple and gets lost in her hair. “Please wake up Nim. Please.” Pym’s voice breaks above her. She wants to but even now the icy depths of the dark lake call to her. She doesn’t hear what Merlin whispers next as her mind drowns, sinking deeper and deeper into the hollow shell of her body. When she surfaces again, she doesn't know how much time has passed. She does not try to move this time. There is hot pain in her shoulder and stomach and even her leg aches. She can hear raised voices, closer than they had been before but she can’t focus long enough to make out all the words and understand what is being said. It comes in snatches of conversation. “Move, could die.” “Don't. All. Dead.” “Medicine?”  “Hidden.” “Gods, Arthur.” Whatever they're talking about, she can't be bothered to try and follow. Instead she tries to push the pain she feels away, ignorant of the fire now burning in her veins chasing away the ice and the numbness that had grasped her before. Everything is agony and she willingly sinks back into the dark embrace of the water that soothes her forehead and throat, and protects her body.  The third time she comes to, bright light filters through her eyelids and she tries to turn her head away from it. She feels like she is being tossed about by the waves of the ocean, the current of the river. It hurts all over, and the fire is still in her veins burning hotter than it did before. There is screaming nearby and it startles her. She tries to open her mouth to respond in some way, to comfort, or correct but words don't come, and she finds her mouth is already agape. A heavy weight settles on her body and she feels like she is being suffocated. She tries to cry out but her throat is raw, and she tastes blood in her mouth. She tries to move her arms and legs to get away from the weight settled over her, it reminds her of the time she was pinned down in the forest by the paladin. She can hear the whispers of the hidden near her and tries to call out to them. Panic grips her and she tries to fight against it. She almost succeeds, almost gets her eyes open but then she is being dragged down, down, down, into the abyss below the waves. This time she does open her eyes. The room she is in, if it can be called a room, is dark, lit only by a single flickering candle. Her throat aches, and her lips are chapped when she runs her tongue across them in an attempt to wet them. To seek relief. She is thirsty. She blinks away the blurriness in her eyes and tries to look around the room. It makes her head spin, but the familiar scent of the forest fills her nose and she relaxes a little. Her right hand is warm and she looks for the source of that heat. Pym is slumped over in a chair next to her bed, hand wrapped tightly around her own, and head lying on the edge of the cot. Nimue smiles, the barest tug on her lips, and feels the skin split and blood well up. She’s too tired to attempt to wake Pym for something as simple as a glass of water. Instead, she closes her eyes and drifts back to sleep. 

[akalei]

There’s More To Being A Hero

It’s a little rough since I cranked this out after classes today but here’s Ladybug and Chat’s first encounter with the Team, Damien isn’t in this first installment but he will be I promise!! But I will warn I enjoy plot, world building and character development so there will be plenty within this AU. More installments and head cannons to come but I hope you enjoy!! Also feel free to send me asks about this AU too!

@ozmav @kelelamentia @resignedcatservant @imfreakingmagical @northernbluetongue

Marinette had only been Ladybug for about a year when the Mayor asked her and Chat Noir to act as bodyguards for the diplomatic meeting of the Crown Prince of Kowar and the Queen of Vlatava. Marinette wasn’t privy to the details of this meeting but she was glad to aid the Mayor’s anxieties by being present herself. The meeting had started out fine, both parties brought their own respective security and both the young queen and crown prince were happy to meet and allow Paris’ new heroes to stand in on their meeting. 

The goal was to create a new peace treaty between the two countries, one that would allow trade between Valatava and Kowar. 

“If both parties view this treaty as agreeable,” one of the officials asked glancing at both Prince Ali and Queen Perdita who gave nods of approval, “all that is left is to have both majesties to -” all of the sudden the room began to spin. Ladybug grasped her head as she fell to her knees in pain. She glanced around the room and everyone, including Chat was in the same predicament and Ladybug had no idea why, at least until she saw the fine leather shoes and green cloak. 

“I must say, not all parties are content with this little agreement,” he had a very heavy eastern European accent.

“Uncle, how are you here? I thought Kid Flash had put you in Bell Rev,” Perdita muttered trying to get off the floor. 

Ladybug glanced at the man, trying to discern his features through the grogginess, but one thing was clear. This wasn’t an akuma and that man was Count Vertigo. 

The man sneered at his niece, “I haven’t forgotten your little stunt, taking away my immunity but you’re not the only one with friends,” with that multiple men with unknown weapons came into the room. Ladybug struggled to get herself to move, it was all she could do to lift herself up onto her elbows and slowly reach for her yoyo. She looked to her left and saw Chat lying on the floor blood dripping from his lip, trying to stay conscious under Count Vertigo's power.  

“Now children let’s take this meeting elsewhere,” Count Vertigo motioned for his lackeys to pick up Prince Ali and Queen Perdita. Ladybug whipped her yoyo around Count Vertigo’s leg and gave a harsh tug, sending the man to the ground and disrupting his power. Quickly she and Chat got to their feet and got between Vertigo and the Queen and Prince. 

“You peasant! How dare you!” Vertigo seethed from the floor but Ladybug didn’t offer a response, her mind occupied with trying to figure out how to block his power. 

It’s his headgear 

Marinette’s eyes widened, hearing the voice of a young man in her head. 

Can you get the headgear off him and keep them distracted? Help is on the way.

Marinette narrowed her eyes as she side-swiped one of the goons and kicked him into a chair. 

Yes, I can do that, I am Ladybug after all. 

With that Ladybug shifted her concentration from the voice in her head to the foreign villain in front of her. 

“You ready kitty?” she asked glancing over at Chat Noir who had taken down another one of the weapon-carrying goons. 

“Always milady, do you have a plan?” she felt his weight pressed against her back, it was comforting. Knowing that although the disembodied voice in her head was sending help, she had her own.

“Working on it, lucky charm!” she called and tossed her yoyo into the air. What came back, however, was a device she didn’t know. A little unnerved, Ladybug held onto the device but went to remove Count Vertigo’s headgear anyways. 

It was fairly easy to get the man off balance, all she had to do was stay out of his line of sight, leaping over furniture and using her yoyo to tie him up.

“How dare you! I am Count Vertigo, royalty!” he spat as she got closer to remove his headgear. 

“Well if I heard Queen Perdita correctly, you’ve been stripped of all your authority so that just makes you a criminal,” she replied.

Count Vertigo’s eyes narrowed, “Who are you?”

Marinette just smiled as her fingers grasped the cold metal band around his head, “Ladybug,” and removed the headgear off of his head. 

With Count Vertigo out of commission, Ladybug turned to the rest of the intruders who had been apprehended not by Chat but by a separate group of masked individuals.  

“Nice way to stay traught,” Ladybug glanced to her right to see a young man dressed in black with a blue bird symbol on his chest. 

“Traught?” she asked.

The man glanced at her, “ya know like the opposite of distraught, traught,” 

Ladybug rolled her eyes, “English isn’t my first language and even I know that’s not a real word,” 

He shrugged, “Either way you did good, stayed calm under pressure and when you were psychically hacked.” 

Ladybug looked over at Ali and Perdita who were talking to their security next to another man with white hair and tan skin and a girl with blonde hair and a bow, “well, I had to make sure they made it out alive, which makes freaking out not an option.” 

Ladybug glanced back at the man and watched as his expression suddenly shifted, his eyes though covered by a mask went wide and he began to make his way towards the Prince and Queen. Confused Marinette turned around to see one of the goons take control of his weapon and aim it at Queen Perdita. Before she could think her body was moving and her hand was pressing the button on the lucky charm. But it was too late, it was like the world around Marinette moved in slow motion, a beam of red light had shot out of the gunlike machine and was aimed directly at the Queen. The head of the Queen’s security shoved the young girl into one of the hero’s arms and took the attack. As soon as the Valatvian man hit the ground his body in fetal position time seemed to snap back in place. 

“Those weapons are from neo-genesis make sure they get back to the League!” 

“Sir, I need you to listen to me, stay with me,”

“Nightwing, the weapons they're fried as if they were hit by an EMP,” 

“NOO!!”

Marinette glanced at the object in her hand, the lucky charm she used too late. This was her fault.

“Use your miraculous milady, it’ll fix everything!” Chat stated, glancing up at Ladybug with complete devotion, believing that the miraculous was the ultimate fix.

Everyone glanced at Ladybug, the new heroes held a look of confusion while the Parisians held the same look that Chat did. Marinette swallowed and tossed the EMP into the air, “Miraculous Ladybug!”. The state of the room went back to how it looked before Count Vertigo interrupted, but nothing else changed. The man was still severely injured on the floor. 

Ladybug looked up at everyone, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” 

The man with the dark skin walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Do not place all the blame onto yourself, the mission is what the mission becomes, and it very rarely goes as planned.” 

Ladybug just mutely nodded, taking his words to heart but still overwhelmed by her own carelessness. Soon the heroes left, taking the Prince and Queen with them, orders from the Justice League. She sat on a rooftop overlooking Paris, her head full of the events that had occurred and the advice she was given by other heroes like her. 

Chat sat next to her, “I can’t believe that miraculous didn’t work, it’s a reset button! That’s what it does, it fixes our mistakes,”

Ladybug just glanced at her partner, she wasn’t necessarily surprised by his attitude it was hard not to think that being a superhero was all fun and games when at the end magic fixes the mess they caused. 

Slowly Ladybug stood up, “Chat, miraculous doesn’t have the power to fix everything,” and swung away. Leaving both her and Chat Noir to ponder about what being a hero truly meant and whether they were ready for that responsibility.