#*Painfilled laughter* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovesick-panmess · 3 years

Text

Rapture

A part two to my Armageddon AU. Warnings for depictions of blood, gore, and self-depreciation.

Levi's hand stayed pressed against the metal door, if he leaned in enough he can hear the footsteps of his younger brothers running to what he hoped was assured safety. His legs felt like jello and that he could barely hold himself up, anxiety pumping through his veins as he rushed downstairs. There was no courageous bone in his body, he was just a shitty pathetic otaku and all too eager to hide away in his room and wait for an attack to be over, for this fucking nightmare to be over. He watches Mammon continuing to fed of the doorway, trading punches and blasts to those who tried to come in. God, he was all too aware of his tail and horns, the clothes of his demon form feeling all too tight. "Levi! A little help here?!"

Mammon's shout brings him back to the despair of reality, getting a running start as he pulled the angel off of him and began to tug at its wings before completely ripping it off with his tail. The angel cries fall silent and the two brothers meet each other's eyes as the blood begins to reach their feet. "..They're just newborns, why the hell would the Celestial Realm send newborns to try and attack us?" Mammon spoke, effortlessly gutting one that attempt to fly overhead and turning away quickly, his own claws digging into the palm of his hand and it's hard to tell which of the dripping blood is his own or an angel. Levi doesn't want to think about it, it's clear when he closes his eyes and ripping apart wings like paper. He can't bear to imagine each one that he kills being around Luke's age...he just can't. "This is just for a distraction, we gotta give them time to get to Dia's castle," Mammon speaks in plan in their shared language while twisting the angel's wrist, and Levi is unable to hide his grimace from the loud crack that followed.

He keeps sinking, deeper into his own thoughts and trying to ignore the way his heart clenches at the painfilled screams and his eyes constantly shifting so he can kill on sight. There was a brief pause but sadly no relief from the attacks as he screamed, "Mammon look out!" The window of the living room shatters as an angel now armed with a sword tackles the eldest brother, Levi turns to help but finds himself surrounded with similar swords that he knows he can't let them touch him. He breathes in deeply, despite his own self-doubt, he knows that there is a reason why he is part of the most powerful in Devildom though he is at a territorial disadvantage. He snarls baring his teeth now soaked with blood and fire pooling into his gut as some of them back off in fear.

His tail acts first, grabbing an angel behind him by the throat and viciously digging his claws into their eye sockets and watching in crazed delight as the blood oozed out. He looked at their fortified expressions and found himself completely void of pity, where was that hesitation when they so eagerly attacked? Where was that fear that could have driven them away from this house? Their home...his brothers..all split apart because of this attack made anger bubble in his throat. It was feral and ugly, Levi leaving gaping holes in the bodies of already dead angels and the growing thirst for more carnage-

"Are ya done yet? Talk about overkill, Levi."

He blinked as if awakened from a long nap, removing his knee from the angel's back as he stood. They were both panting and clearly becoming exhausted, but he couldn't look away from Mammon's cocky grin and wiping off the remaining feathers. Too many questions flooded into his head, how long will they be able to defend their home? What more they could handle before eventually passing out? Were the younger brothers safe and sound? And why did Mammon look so cool at this very moment? He had watched Mammon so effortlessly fight angels that even he was struggling with, looking so strong and willing to defend their home while Levi's first thought was to run away. He wasn't brave like Mammon, he wasn't strong, even weaker angels put up a fight. He was so weak it was disgusting, he was disgusting and stupid to think that he would be worth anything in comparison to fighting with Mammon.

Bitter admiration and malicious jealousy dances in his chest, he pants and stumbles into the wall as his vision blurs. Now only showing the pure white of his eyes and the last thing he hears is Mammon distantly calling out his name...and Envy taking over. There is an orange glow emanating and pulsing as Levi's form shifts and changes, he grows larger as the scales covering his entire body are now sharp like razors. He's more snake-like, hissing and gurgling deep within his throat, and makes his way to the streets of Devildom, quick to attack any demon or angel that gets in his way.

Mammon curses as he runs after his brother and racking his brain for any way to bring him back but the sight in front of him made him stop. Watching a multitude of angels continue to stab their blades into Levi's tail and this untamable rage begins to take hold of Mammon. The mocking laughter of those surrounding him, filling his ears and drowning out any conscious thought out the window. "We'll kill you and all your brothers too! Devildom is ours for the taking." This sort of desire to make them shut the fuck up leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, black feathers completely decorating his arms as he stumbles back, trying his best to calm down. To think clearly, Lucifer would want him to keep his head on his shoulders, he would be so disappointed if Mammon couldn't keep it together from some small taunts. But such needs...were growing to be too much, the desire to protect the ones he loved became something he could no longer suppress as he let himself transform and sink deeper into this kind of greed.

The greed that the only annihilation can fulfill.

Violence.

---------

Ahhhhh I am so happy that so many people fell in love with this au! Thank you for all the likes and excitement, it really means alot ❤ and once again a thank you to the fabulous @asterronomical for not only helping me review ideas for this part two but also giving visuals into the brothers (Levi and Mammon) current forms!

I'd also love to hear some theories on why the Celestial Realm is attacking 👀

#obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date?#obey me angst #mammon and levi #levi angst #mammon angst #mammon and lucifer #armageddonau

191 notes · View notes

shythesheep · 4 years

Text

The silvertounged fool and his golden hearted king

Content warning: descriptive violence and angst, lots of it. Whump.

Summeary: Merlin has known that everything has prize in life, and only the people in power has the means to pay it. He isn't one those people. Gifted with magic and a destiny unknown to him, he is ripped from his mother by a warlord and sold to Cenred to be trained as a sorcerer for his war against the other kingdoms of Albion. There is always a prize to pay, and in a time of war Merlin is the means to tip the scale of power. Too bad no one is fighting for him.

Chapter 1

Humble beginnings

Every life has a humble beginning. Be it the willful seeds that will grow to a proud harvest or the humble acorn that with the caring hand of time will grow into a wise oak, that gives shelter to all the creatures of the forest. Even legends as the one that is about to unfold, started out humble. It started out with a woman. A woman from the village Ealdor in the young King Cenred’s kingdom. In this little hut of hers, she sat with the bundle of joy that she called son. This was a time in which the only pain she foresaw for her child, was the burden of being a bastard, but the universe has its ways, and this bastards of hers was going to bear a burden heavier than most. The child’s name was Merlin.

v•v•v

“Merlin!” his mother grabs his shoulder and hides him in her embrace as she pulls him into the backyard. She signals him to be quiet and with shaking hands she makes him hide in the wood stack that leans up against their hut. There is a small crack that he is precisely tiny enough to squeeze into quietly. From his hiding spot he can see nothing, but non from the outside can see him either, so only his mum and himself knows where he resides. He can hear the clip clop of hooves against the dirt roads in the villages, and from their heavy breathing Merlin can imagine their frantic eyes, waiting for their rider to guide them through the unfamiliar terrain.

Horses are always a bad omen, even at the mere age of seven winters, Merlin knows this. Only knights and Kanen’s men have horses. Horses only bring bad men that makes his mum cry and takes their rations. Merlin would love nothing more than to make Kanen fly away, with all his evil minions, and the knights too. But magic is not something to use, not when curious eyes and running mouths are present. His mum says that even the walls and trees have ears, which is silly and scary. There are always eyes on him, not just his mother’s loving gaze, but eyes that belongs to greedy souls of men that would love nothing more than to exploit his powers or sell him to highest bidder. Even at this age Merlin understood the concept of danger that the magic inside him brought with it.

Magic cannot exist in this world where it only brings his mother worries and missing fathers, he knows that that is what he should think. But when he is alone, sitting under the oak in the early spring, the magic inside of him only creates friends for the beautiful butterflies that flies around him in a playful dance of the seasons. In the moments of bliss, he feels the earth and moss under him vibrate with life. It’s not tangible, but it is there, in the roots that run from the trees and the air that lays heavy with the smell of bark and moist grass.

The forest and butterflies seem so far away now, with him squished in between wood pieces and the cold air of late autumn filling his lungs. His hands are red from the cold, but he dares not move, hence he should make a sound. The horse’s hooves are quiet, but their riders are not, and neither are the villagers of Ealdor. He can hear the arguing, but not the words. He knows one of the voices, Matthew, he is always nice to Merlin and Will, even when old Tom accuses them of stealing eggs from his chicken coop. They never actually took any eggs, but when an adult accuses you, you rarely get out of the situation without a scolding, but not when it is Matthew, he just reassures old Tom that nothing has been taken and smiles to them. He is a nice man. Not like Kanen.

Merlin has only seen his face once in passing, and it’s a face that can only belong to a man like him, with a rotten soul and violent temper. It’s a face that only suits the likes of a child’s nightmare. But Kanen was as real as any and not just a nightmare but a menace to the villages that lays in the outskirts of Cenred’s kingdom, and the young have never cared for the poor folks, as long as he still owns the land and it isn’t outside kingdoms’ men that attack, then he won’t do anything.

Merlin strains his ears and Matthews voice pierces through.

“We don’t have anything left Kanen, the profit from the harvest this year was meager, we will starve as it is.”

“Then you will starve, but I know you have more to give than this.”

“We have nothing, you’ve- “

“Huni- “

“No, Matthew quiet. We have nothing, you’ve taken everything Kanen.”

Merlin gasps. It is his mother speaking. Curious as any child, he crawls out of his hiding, to get a better look at the confrontation. He is still hidden partially, and he is certain non can see him if he just stays quiet.

His mother his standing with her chin up, her face dirty with sod and mud from working all day, her hands are tightly fisted at her side, and they aren’t shaking. Merlin looks with his mouth slightly agape, admiring his mother that he thinks resembles an angry dragon.

He puts too much weight on his front leg and his foot slips on the muddy ground. He grunts and pushes himself up to meet the eyes of his mother, that in an instant change from being filled with bravery to big and round with a look of terror painting her face. It’s not just the eyes of his mother that is weighen down on him.

Kanen gets down from his horse and sounders towards merlin with his sword drawn, Hunith chokes out a tearful scream, but a few of Kanen’s men are holding her and Matthew back.

Merlin doesn’t move as Kanen lifts his chin with the tip of the sword, pressing it dangerously rough against Merlin’s soft skin. A tickle of blood runs from where the blade meets skin.

“Hunith’s boy I assume.” Kanen smirks and turns to Hunith with a laughter. “Not so brave when your little boy is under the blade huh?”

“Leave him be! He is just a boy!” Hunith is crying. Her body hunched over as she fights against the heaves, her eyes never leave Merlin.

“Don’t worry I won’t hurt him.” Kanen crouches down, removes the sword from Merlin’s chin and clutches it with his strong hands instead. He turns Merlin’s head slowly back and forth, inspecting him as if he was a mouse and Kanen the cat toying with him before the deadly pounce. “After all, I can’t sell damaged merchandises.” This makes his men chuckle and laugh. Hunith on the other hand, tenses up and gets quiet. Her face grows cold and her eyes fills with storm clouds. As quick as any mother would be with their child in danger, she hits one of the men with a fist to the nose and dives for his sword. She manages to get a hold of it and charges at Kanen.

Kanen draws his sword and easily manages to block Hunith’s barbaric swing, he pushes her back when their blades clash and Merlin sits frozen as the scene unfolds. His mother screams so hard that the strain on her voice is clear. But Kanen smiles non the less before the angry mother. The fight is over just like that, with Hunith clutching her bleeding arm, and the sword laying discarded at the side. Kanen points the sword at her, but the finishing blow never comes. The sword’s shaft heats up until it glows, a sizzling of burning flesh can be heard as Kanen yells in pain and drops the sword. He looks angrily towards Hunith, then he follows her gaze to Merlin. He just barely sees the glowing of the boy’s eyes as he turns. A crooked smile mix with his painfilled grimace.

“You got magic boy. No wonder your mother hid you.”

“Please! I’m begging you, let him be! He is just a child Kanen!”

“A child with magic, which is something that would fetch a high prize from any interested party, but a prize too big for you to pay I am afraid.”

“Kane-“

“We’ll take the boy as compensation for the damage and missing payment.” He smiles and turns towards Merlin. Merlin looks to his mother and feels himself starting to heave and tears form in his eyes.

“RUN!” Her mother screeches.

And run he does. He dashes towards the forest with the yells of men not far behind him. Then he hears the horses. Horses are always a bad omen.

“ahhh!” he screams loudly as someone pulls him up by his shoulders, the sound of hooves and yelling floods his senses and everything is thrown into a chaotic jumble of his beating heart and fast flowing blood.

“Sit still or I’ll drop you and the horse will trample you to death.” It isn’t Kanen but one of his men that has pulled Merlin up onto his horse. He is holding Merlin close to his chest as he rides towards the others who are roaring in victory as if Merlin was their hunting prize.

It goes quickly after that. Merlin’s hands and legs are tied with rope, and a cloth bag is loosly tied over his head as to obscure his sight. He screams for his mother, for matthew, anyone to help him. His movements are frantic as he fights against the hands holding him stomach down on the saddle. He can’t hear his mother, only the turmoil of screams and roars, who is yelling what he doesn’t know.

“Let’s get going, I want to set up camp before we look for a buyer.” Says Kanen in an indifferent tone and a low rumble of agreement is heard from the man holding Merlin.

“And make his weeping stop, it is giving me a headache.”

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #angst with a happy ending #angst #whump #whump fic #merlin fandom #merlin fanfic

8 notes · View notes

golden-buddle · 4 years

Text

A God was going to attack the Mallory’s. And, Marie only knew that because Strings had contacted her.

The Time God was in a frenzy, she heard him fight back, she heard him shout, snarl, swear, then give in to the instincts.

She heard his painfilled cries. She heard him weakly snarl. ..Then she heard nothing.

She fled to the Mallory’s, only to arrive to find the makeshift family had defeated the God.

But.. Strings was still no where to be found.

She scoured the city, no luck.

She scoured the void, no luck.

She even tried breaking her own bracelet, the one Strings had given her just a few months ago.

..He didn’t even appear.

..She eventually wandered to the Creators.

The oh so powerful Higher Gods.

They fought, bickered with eachother in front of her.

The Kind Lili, the Mysterious Tabby, the Evil M.o.t.h, the Interested Mango, and.. the Hidden Golden Threads.

M.o.t.h wanted to let her deal with it on her own, deals were brought up and they didn’t even deny that they wanted Marie to come to them for one.

Lili wanted to interfere, but she didn’t have the power. Strings wasn’t under her realm.

Mango just watched.

Tabby was the one that reminded Lili that they couldn’t interfere.

One by one they turned their back. Refused to help.

One by one until only one was left.

The Man Behind the Curtains.

The Master of the Void.

The Puppetmaster Golden Threads.

They appeared in a flash of light, breaking one of their few rules to hand the device to her directly.

And with that, the golden eyed, constantly crying gold, four armed Creator left.

Marie was left in the void with a small remote, with a single button on it.

The Maiden turned it over in her hands. Staring at its smooth back, running her hands around the sides of it, looking for any hint of what it did.

..There was nothing. Just.. the single button on it.

She didn’t have a choice. Strings was missing, no one could find him, he could be injured, or worse-...

She pressed it.

Suddenly she felt the world warp around her, pressing down on her limbs, stretching her body, the world screamed as she was pulled like taffy, then-

She was there.

It was.. dark. Night time. The sky was filled with the Milky Way. The trees high in the sky, scraping the stars as they swayed in the wind.

It was.. breathtaking. But.. that wasn’t what had her attention.

What had her attention was a sprawling town. Brand new, but.. not modern. If, she could guess, she’d say it would be.. medievel. Everything was built by hand, lanterns with small flickering candles dotted the small farm like neighborhoods.

It was.. strange. Oh so strange.

Slowly, she started to walk. The button from the Creator brought her here, Strings had to be here. He had to.

Her shoes crunched the dirt road as she walked. Avoiding puddles, and holes as she looked.

He had to be here somewhere.

He had to be.

Marie’s dress swished around her legs, softly kicking up dust with each step.

Where should she begin? The village, not a town, was still pretty large. And, she wasn’t sure where to start.

..Laughter broke her out of her thoughts, ahead, she saw a group of men wandering the road, their hands gripping sloshing tankers, falling all over eachother with faces red of the beer.

Marie wanted to talk to them- interrogate them, find out if they had seen Strings- her older brother-

She took a step forward, and froze-

“Didja hear?” One of the men slurred, breaking the laughter up, “..Remember ol’ stone faced Gabrael?”

Another man laughed as he leaned against the first. “O’ course! The man’s.. a good miner! Hardass, but, good ass miner! Spends so much.. time in the, mine.. it’s like he’s skin gets grey from the coal!”

A third man pushed the second. “Stop ramblin’! Ever’ones knows the hardass! Don’t gotta explain nothin’!”

The first of laughed again, “..Gettin’ off track! Ol’ Gabrael’s wife, uh.. Jane.. no, Julie! She’d got another bun in the, oven!”

The second one laughed, “No shit! What’re they planning on, naming this one?”

The first one snorted. “..Accordin’ to the misses, Julie wan’s to name this one Benjamin, if it’s a boy. But the thing is.. Ol’ Stoneface wan’s to name it Gordon!”

The Maiden’s breath caught in her throat. ..Gabrael..? Was it.. Was Gabrael Strings..?

She turned on her feet, ignoring the drunken men as she stretched her inky wings and flew down the road, scanning the posts that scattered the side of the road as she went, each one had different names, each one had two names carved deeply into the wood.

Samual & Mary, Owen & Samantha, Gabrael & Julie-

Her feet skittered on the harsh dirt ground as she forced herself to a stop. Her eyes wide as she started to run. Her hair flying back as she ran up the stairs of the handmade house.

Her hands clenched into a fists as she reached up and slammed on the door. Strings, He had to be here he had to-

The door creaked as it opened.

Her heart leapt to her throat as she looked up at the 6’11 man in front of her.

Long greying hair pulled into a pony tail, olden, medieval pajamas laid on his form.

And.. he had soft, warm blue eyes. No gold to be seen.

Strings- no, Gabrael, looked down at Marie with a wide smile.

“..Marie! I did not know you were coming from Boston! I would have rented a carriage to pick you up!”

#no beta we die like mne #I’ll edit it in the morn #pls do not reblog until I edit it #>:c #Long Post #Roleplay Ficlet #My Writing

8 notes · View notes

shewhowasbornlucky · 6 years

Text

Bonded

Read on AO3

Life has given them all another chance. Old wounds are hard to fix.

It was at the twilight of their lives that dishonored Prince and powerless, former Fire lord Ozai met Lady Ursa again. His cell was dark – it was always so dark he could not see past his own nose – but he needed not light to see who the person in front of the bars was. Her perfume filled the air, and it was as if time hadn’t passed between them. The scent carried memories he had sworn to forget.

He breathed, and hated every second how fire no longer escaped from his lips.

Ursa had to squint to see him. Coming from the outside, where the sun shone as bright as ever, her husband’s cell seemed like a nightmare. She could make his form, though. His shoulders were still broad, although she was sure exercise was out of his routine. His hair had grown so long it reached his hips – lifeless and disheveled, it resembled a mop more than a prince’s pride. She recognized him nonetheless; his eyes were just the same; fire gleaming in the dark. The Avatar could take the fire from his very soul, but he could never take it away from his eyes.

She had loved the man before her with everything she had. Had imagined ruling by his side, feeling his warmth caressing her. Ursa imagined them both behind the fire curtains of the throne room. Their destinies were joined from the moment they locked eyes for the first time! He gave her a golden crown, and she gave him a piece of her mind, and two beautiful children. She imagined waking up every single morning, until her dying day, in his arms.

Nothing felt any better than that.

Their children would be conquerors – their children would be legends. Hymns would be written about their greatness, and he would put the entire world at her feet. He would love her as much as she loved him, and nothing else would ever matter. They would be terribly, utterly happy, as it should be. As she had always dreamed.

But those were the dreams of a naïve girl. The fantasies that were stripped from her the very moment she made her best blend for her Fire Lord Azulon. The very same day she heard her daughter’s words on her husband’s order to kill his own blood. The day she came into their chambers and saw him looking through his knives.

She took a step forward, and pulled down her cloak. Her hair, before a lovely shade of brown, had gotten grey – it reached her lower back, and seemed to flow like silk or liquid. His hands ached with the yearning to bury his fingers in it. It was always soft, and it always smelled of orange blossoms.

“You have returned to me,” the disgraced man said– his voice a mere whisper. A cough follows his words; he had forgotten what it was like to talk to someone.

Ozai did not dare hope for a response. He knew she was a creature straight from his dreams, but he was tired, and he was done, and he was never known for keeping himself from indulging in his pleasures. He took a deep breath, and marveled at the vivid smell of her. If it was a dream, he hoped to never wake up.

This time, however, the woman in front of him did not run to his arms and kissed him for all he was worth. The woman straight from his nightmares did nothing but stare at him in the same fashion she used to, before when they were husband and wife. Before, when there were no murders to cover and no sins to acknowledge. Before, when their love burned brighter than ambition, and family, and crowns, and death. Before, when it was just the two of them.

“I have returned to my family,” she corrected him, and it almost sounds soft. A loving mother scolding his child. He wanted to laugh, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was another cough.

“You’re… you’re real,” he croaked, and got closer to the bars in an attempt at getting a better glance of her. She stood there, draped in white, bags under her eyes and a red nose.

Zuko, he thought, and hated how it sobered him up. He looked in her eyes, trying to see the pain he knew would be there if her beloved son had left their world. He did not find it, but that did not relaxed him either.

“You lied,” she said, studying him with cold eyes.

“You promised you would come back.”

She scoffs, indignant as always. As if missing her was his problem and not her doing. “You hurt my son. You destroyed my daughter.”

Ozai laughed, and shook his head. Her brows furrowed. She grabbed his hair, and pulled hard, forcing him to look at her eyes. There is fire in her, so he knows. It had been sleeping before. It now burns hot. She looks at him with piercing eyes, and he has the grace to lower his glaze, to tremble before her.

He knows a lost battle when he sees one, so he accepted her blow with honor, if such a thing could be found in a disgraced man.

“I loved you with everything I was, and there was never a moment where I didn’t think of you,” he finally said, after a pause, with a trembling voice.

Her lower lip shook and Ursa bited hard on it. “Your brother has died,” she said. “He wanted you to know he was sorry.”

There was a pause too long for it to be comfortable. Ursa looked in the darkness, searching for a sign on his face that would betray the man she had adored. Any signs that the charming man who had promised her the world was there, somewhere. That the man whose small laughter had made her knees tremble was there, with ther. That her lover had mended his way.

Darkness overtook them, and she could not see a thing.

Ursa was no longer a little girl neither an impressionable woman – she would not cry for a man who did not have a heart. She clasped her hands together, and waited. Waited for the man she loved to appear. Waited for her dreams to shatter for one last time. Waited for her family to mend itself – to come back to normal.

“What for?” Ozai finally asked, turning away from her. His tone was unreadable, but she knew better. He was never a good liar for those who knew him. That is why, she suspected, he never allowed anyone to get close to him. “I am not the one who died.”

His attempt at humor was not a surprise, and she did not even bat an eye. How a man on his knees would manage to act so blinded by his idiotic pride, she did not know, but she could not say she expected anything but that from him. “Agni knows what he meant by that,” she huffed and rolled her eyes “– how he thought you deserved it,” she spat, her voice soft as a song. “But I supposed you should know.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement, but did not say more. She thought she saw his shoulders tremble, but she blamed her stupid reveries in the lack of light.

Silence surrounded them like an old lover, the only thing betraying her presence being her soft breath and the fresh scent.

She, immaculate and lovely, shouldn’t be there around the filth, Ozai thought grimly.

“How was it?”

Her eyes were back on him, and he trembled. “Peaceful,” she says, as soft as a whisper. “He went on his sleep.”

He snorted. “Fit for a lazy idiot,” Ozai said, and Ursa could hear his sneer. Could hear the way his voice betrayed her true feelings.

“He went in his sleep, surrounded by those who love him,” Ursa said, her tone never flickering. “Who will cry for you once you live this place, my love?” she asked, and moved her hand to caress his bony cheek.

Her touch was so soft he felt he could cry out loud. Her warmth caressed him, and Ozai closed her eyes.

“Have you come back to torture me?” he asked, laughter in his voice. It broke her how much he seemed to enjoy the prospect of it. “Haunt me, my sun. It’s been too long.”

“You could have had it all,” she said, and there was a ‘we’ that seemed to take his breath away if only for a second. She frowned. “I could have loved you until my last breath!” she did not know whom she is angry with – herself, or him. It should sicken her how eager she was to forgive and forget. To want to hug him and never let go. To lose herself to a love that consumed her and burned everything it touched.

Her loving words hurt more than any curses she could’ve said to him. That any knife she could’ve thrown at him.

“I could have forgiven you, but you had to hurt them. You broke us,” she reproached, and he did not need to look at her to know she was pouting. That she was glaring.

“There was a war,” he said, and it sounded pathetic to her ears. He wasn’t even trying to sound convincing.

“They were blood of your blood,” she said, and she felt her tears burning at the corner of her eyes, but did not let her tone flutter. Ursa had practiced for years by his side.

Ozai opened his mouth, tried to say something, but failed miserably.

“You are a monster,” she laughed, full of disbelief. “You were one back then, but I couldn’t see it. How foolish I was, to think that love could change you! You, who killed your own father. You, who rejoiced in your nephew’s blood. You, who can’t even mourn the death of a brother!”

“I can’t mourn a brother I didn’t have!”

“You didn’t have one because you never accepted him to begin with!” she yelled back, her voice echoing in the small walls of his cell. “You push people away, and play with them like toys and pawns for your own entertainment.”

He was shaking then. Wanting his tormentor to be silenced forever. Wanting that nightmare to end at last. Wanting her torture to keep on going until he was done, and he was freed, and he could never have to deal with her painfilled eyes anymore.

“Are you any different, my love?!”

“Everything I have ever done was to protect those that I love and care about!” she said, her fists clenched. “My mistake was loving someone who did not deserve it.”

He accepted the blow, but he couldn’t say it did not hurt.

Bitter tone, he said, “foolish girl, indeed. Weak and pathetic – couldn’t even do something for yourself—“

Ursa laughed, interrupting him for the first time. “Always so predictable,” she shook her head. “Iroh was right, though I can’t say I’m surprised.”

He frowned, his jaw tight. “You seem to forget I know how to read you as much as you know me, my husband,” she said, her voice back at being a soft caress. “Your brother’s ceremony will be held tomorrow morning. You may want to pray for his spirit, and your own. Agni knows you won’t be granted the mercy of a swift passing around your loved ones like your beloved brother.”

“You saw Father,” Azula never asks questions – she only states facts and waits for them to be confirmed. Ursa shared that trait when she was younger. She knows her own mother hated it, she could almost smile.

Azula is surprised at how unreadable her mother’s face is, but that does not stop her from trying.

“Yes, I did.”

“I haven’t visited in years,” the princess admited in a small voice, waiting for her mother to confess. She balances her weight on her feet, almost dancing-like, as if the situation didn’t bother her at all. As if her curiosity was simply picked, and the thought were not eating her mind.

“Not much has changed,” Ursa said, walking with her daughter.

“Was he happy?” the princess asked, looking promptly at her nails.

“With what?”

“Was he happy to learn of General Iroh’s death?” General. Never Uncle. Azula might have made peace with her past and her wrongdoings, but some things never changed. Ursa supposed she felt safer that way – rejecting someone before they could reject her was her most trusted tactic.

Ursa considered her daughter, looking at her as discreetly as she could muster. “He acted like it,” she said, hoping the princess would catch on.

Her daughter was not one to disappoint. “But you don’t think he was,” Azula said, stopping to watch her mother’s reaction.

Ursa’s only reply was a short shake of her head, and Azula’s lower lip trembled. It was then that Ursa noticed her daughter’s shaky breath, and the way she played with her hands.

“Azula—“she called, but was soon interrupted by the princess nervous, silly laughter.

“I know I shouldn’t care – I know it’s wrong,” she smiled, almost apologetically, but it fell cold as ice. Fake. Her lower lip trembled, and the princess was gone, leaving the girl behind. “But I… I- he is my father. It is stupid, and pathetic, but I-”

Ursa stopped her, one slender hand on her daughter’s shoulder. The warmth of her touch seemed to serve to calm her.

“I love him too, my darling.”

What happened next surprised them both equally. Azula’s warm arms found their place around her mother, and she hugged her tight. Ursa did not notice her own crying until she heard her daughter’s muffled sobs.

“He does not deserve it, and it doesn’t make sense, but I do,” Ursa said, caressing her hair.

“I-I wish…” Azula stopped herself, suddenly small and frail. Ursa understood. She wanted her daughter to know so.

With her eyes closed, she nodded, feeling her daughter’s body trembled in her arms. She held Azula tighter. “Life has given us all a second chance.”

“We mustn’t be crying over him,” the princess said, firmly. The façade of a perfect warrior, crying and all. It is probably what she thought Ursa wanted to hear, and it breaks the mother’s heart. She wanted her to know that it was okay, that she would never harm her for showing emotions. That she felt grateful she could confide in her that way.

All words died in her throat.

“I think he loved you,” Ursa finally said, and she knew that was something that had clouded her daughter’s mind and troubled her sleep ever since she got better. Was she loved, or was she simply groomed to become a warlord? Was she something more than her bending? Did she mean anything for him?

“No one who has known you,” she continued, pushing a strand of hair behind her ears, “–really know you, the girl I always thought you could be – could do so without loving you,” Ursa’s whisper was accompanied by a soft caress to Azula’s cheek, and she smiled despite her tears. “But his love… his love has always been consuming.”

“You didn’t let him destroy you,” she pointed, and looked away, as if ashamed of her own vulnerability. Of the way her father had destroyed her.

“I wasn’t there for the worst part. But I am here now, and I am willing to make things right. I owe you and your brother as much.”

“So you don’t think Father can…?” Azula asked, her hope clear in her eyes.

Ursa shook her head sadly, “I don’t.”

“But you still love him.”

“I suppose I’m not any better than him, after all.”

This was written for the Royal Family Week but it’s been so long I’m actually ashamed of it :(

This follows my headcanon that Urzai actually at least cared for each other. I hate to think of a woman tied in marriage to a man she detested, passive and barely her own character, when in stories the prompt is so easy to find. I do like the story they made for Ursa in the comics, but I don’t appreciate hot it takes from Ursa’s complexity in the show :(

I’d rather see a complex relationship between complex characters, I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, this is supposed to take place 18 years after the show’s canon. I hc that Azula escaped from the asylum, spent a decade travelling around the world, working as a bounty hunter or guarding towns, before she finally made the decission to come back home.

#urzai #azula #atla fanfiction #royal family #atla #my writing #i love this dysfunctional family so damn much #ffs

21 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 6 years

Text

Voice of Solace

Title: Voice of Solace Chapter Six of Sotto Voce Author: Gumnut 4 - 7 Sep 2018 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: Sometimes the voices are far too loud to ignore. Word count: 5286 Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2, minor character death. Author’s note: Okay I have been staring at this too long, so here have the last chapter of this fic. There will likely be a short epilogue - I think there is a need for Virgil and Scott to have a chat.I really hope this lives up to your expectations, and thank you so much for such a fun ride. Your support has been amazing and motivational and you are all wonderful ::many hugs::

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

It was still raining. The wooden decking had a thin film of water across it, each raindrop splashing on impact, fracturing its reflection of the grey sky. The water soaked into his flannel shirt, sticking it to his skin. It dripped down the side of his face, running sideways across his cheek to drip off the edge of his nose.

He lay there for a moment, limp, all energy expended, nothing left. But Virgil Tracy had been here before, been at the end of everything, but still needing to do more.

So he did.

“Eos?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

She lay crumpled in the rain. Her simple white dress laced with scorch marks and sodden in the downpour. Forcing himself to move, he dragged his body across the boards inch by painstaking inch until his fingers could touch her, until he could see her face, until he could wrap his arms around her.

At first, she didn’t respond and he felt the very last of himself slipping away, but then her eyelids fluttered and she looked up at him.

“I have to go. N-need to repair...” Her eyes closed again and she frowned. “Uncle, come with me?” Her eyes opened as his widened.

“Where?”

“I-I can’t leave you here. Come with me?” And her voice grew stronger. She reached up a hand and touched his face. “Let me save you?”

His heart clenched. “You already have.”

“Then trust me, Virgil. Please come with me.”

He took her hand in his and held her close. “Okay.”

She smiled sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

And then his world dissolved into chaos.

-o-o-o-

Scott had his elbows on the bed, Virgil’s hand gripped in both hands and held to his dropped forehead, his eyes closed.

Every muscle was tensed, his body trembling just slightly.

Eos’ tirade had cut off suddenly. She had been relaying situational reports laced with cursing, one moment calm, the next threatening their unseen intruder, then suddenly nothing.

He could hear John wrestling with his tablet, desperate to drag more information from it. “She’s taken program damage.”

Scott looked up and met a pair of worried green eyes. He watched John swallow, his gaze flicking between Virgil’s slack face and his tablet.

There was a gasp from the bed.

Virgil’s eyes were open.

Scott shot to his feet. “Virgil?”

His brother’s brown eyes latched onto him, panic in their depths. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but was suddenly distracted by John shooting to his feet on the other side of the bed.

A flash of recognition.

Scott yelped as his brother scuttled sideways off the bed and into his lap. The chair collapsed backwards and he was lucky he didn’t whack his head on the floor. As it was, his brother was heavy and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

There was an incoherent yell of terror and Virgil clambered off him. Scott rolled off the chair, coughing and pushed himself to his knees.

Blocked from the door, Virgil jammed himself into the corner of the room, squeezing himself up as small as he could get, his hands over his head clutching at where the EEG pads had been torn from his hair.

He whimpered.

John stood at the end of the bed, hope and fear warring on his face.

“John?”

“Eos! Are you okay?”

“You must leave the room.” When his brother didn’t immediately respond, she added, “Now. I will explain.”

John looked at Scott, at Virgil, who flinched and tried to crawl into the wall, before nodding once and leaving the room.

Scott edged towards his brother, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. Virgil flinched looking up, fear and pain on his face. “Sc-t?”

Gently. “C’mere.”

And he found his arms full of shaking brother. Virgil’s forehead dropped to Scott’s shoulder. “I-“ A harshly indrawn breath. “G-d.” A sob. “H-rts.” His whole body shuddered, and he was crying. The heart-breaking sobs of a man forced far beyond his limits.

Scott held him tighter, squeezing his own eyes shut, a tear of his own running down his cheek.

-o-o-o-

“The Hood disguised himself as you.”

“What?”

“The transmission that attempted to compel your brother to betray International Rescue manifested as you. Virgil has been seeing a hallucination of you. It was you who has been coercing him and you who tortured him when he did not obey.”

John’s mouth fell open, his voice stuck in his throat, horror welling.

“I’m sorry, John, but you will need to stay away from Virgil for a while.”

“But-“

“Please listen to me on this. You did not see what I saw. He is so hurt, Father.” A pause. “We almost lost him. He was dying. He had nothing left. I-“

“Eos.”

“I’m sorry, John. I’m not myself. I need to make some repairs.” Another pause. “Please ask the second youngest to attend them. Excuse me.”

And with that, she was gone.

-o-o-o-

Some time had passed, but he didn’t know how much. Everything was confusing. He couldn’t think straight.

He opened his eyes to cloth. Breathing cloth.

God, his head hurt. He groaned and shut his eyes again.

“Virgil?” The quiet enquiry vibrated the shirt against his ear. A name belonged to that voice. A precious name.

“Sc-t?” His voice slurred. There were fingers in his hair. Ow. He fisted his hand in the cloth.

“Speak to me, Virgil.” Quietly demanding.

“Wh-t d you w-nt m t say?” Augh, the words slurred sideways, his tongue felt thick in his mouth. Where was he?

Eos.

He shot up, his eyes open and searching. “E-s!” The world spun and hands grabbed him as he swayed where he sat. A blanket fell to his waist.

“I am here, Virgil.” I am here.

“She’s fine, Virgil. She took some damage during the disconnect, but she is fine.”

There were hands on his shoulders, holding him. He looked up into a pair of bloodshot blue eyes. “Sc-t?” The blue eyes frowned in concern. “’n fl-r?”

The frown deepened. “I’m sorry, Virg, what did you say?”

“’n fl-r?”

Scott’s lips thinned.

“He would like to know why you are on the floor.” Eos’ crisp voice echoed through the room and Virgil looked up. I did say I was here.

“Virgil, did you want to sit in the chair? Or on the bed?” Another voice. A familiar voice. Younger. Brown eyes like his. Laughter. Sitting in a chair.

“G-don.” He smiled. “Fnny.”

Those brown eyes grinned at him. “Why, yes, yes, I am, and proud of it. Did you want a hand up, bro?”

Virgil raised his hand and Gordon grabbed it. With a grunt, he helped him to his feet. The blanket fell to the floor. His younger brother reached out to steady him, before wrapping his arms around him in a hug. “Love you, Virg.”

Virgil returned the embrace, one hand wrapping around the back of his brother’s head. “L-v t.” Where were his words? His head was pounding.

And suddenly dizzy.

“Whoa! Hold it there, bro.” Gordon grabbed him as he teetered and Scott appeared from behind him. “Perhaps bed is a good idea.”

He closed his eyes and the world spun on the inside of his eyelids. Augh. His stomach rolled. “K.”

His brothers helped him into bed and he thankfully lay down. He scrunched his eyes into the pillow and willed the world to stop spinning.

-o-o-o-

John Tracy stared at the vidscreen and wished the Hood a horrible and painfilled death. He could hear the voices in his head that equated to his father, his eldest brother and even Virgil attempting to shout him down. He had never wished ill on anyone, but watching his big brother curl up on that bed in pain, hardly able to speak after all he had been through, the savage inside him wanted revenge.

Scott exited the infirmary and came to stand beside him. He still looked awful.

“We need a doctor.”

“Definitely. But how do we explain the hardware in his head?”

Scott sighed. “I’ll speak to Colonel Casey. Get some confidentiality forms signed. We have no choice.”

“Virgil will not be some someone’s pet science project.”

“No, he won’t.” Scott’s voice was cold.

They were interrupted by Eos. “John?”

“Yes, Eos? How are you feeling?”

“Better. Repairs are underway.”

“Do you need my assistance?”

“Perhaps later. I thought you should know that the ‘hardware’ in Virgil’s head is still growing. We need to halt its growth before we do anything.”

Beside him, Scott paled. “How?”

But John was a step ahead. “The nanites?”

“Yes, I believe a reprogram will give us the results we are looking for. However, I am hesitant to to recommend any attempt at removing the device. In fact, I think we may need the nanites to maintain the structure.”

“What? Why?” Scott was on edge again.

“It is embedded in Virgil’s frontal lobe, where Virgil is. The fact his speech is now affected is proof it is still spreading. He is functional and should heal. I fear that if we attempt to remove it, there will be further damage. Damage he cannot afford.”

“I’ll get a doctor.” And with that Scott stalked out of the room.

“Eos, show me what you have in mind.”

-o-o-o-

Colonel Casey showed no emotion when Scott explained the problem, but she was a hardened military officer and he didn’t expect her to. Her orders were crisp and within hours they had a highly rated neurologist flying out to the island despite the lateness of the hour.

Scott didn’t particularly like the idea of a stranger in their home, but he trusted the Colonel, the forms had been signed and he was desperate.

The doctor had degrees like a pack of cards and was extremely professional. His eyes did widen at the sight of the equipment they had available and his facial expression upon seeing Virgil’s scans was painful to watch.

“Who did this?”

“We call him the Hood.” Scott’s voice was hoarse. “He wants power and money and doesn’t care who he has to hurt to get it.” The latest holographic scan spun slowly in front of them, the spiderweb of circuitry clearly seen wrapped around his brother’s frontal lobe. “He wants our technology, so he tried to use Virgil to get it. He failed.”

“Have you asked the GDF for help? He needs to be arrested.”

Scott looked at him calmly. “Doctor, The GDF have been looking for him for years. He is suspected of killing our father. We caught him once after he invaded our home, so we handed him over to the GDF. He escaped. The GDF had him right on their doorstep yet again and he walked away. The GDF have failed on multiple occasions to nail this guy and look what has happened now!” The doctor backed away, alarm on his face, and Scott realised he was yelling. He swallowed and stepped back. “I’m sorry. It has been a bad few days.” He looked down.

“Understandable.” The doctor cleared his throat and straightened. “I see no way to remove such a structure without damaging your brother further. See here how it has ‘grown’ into his cerebrum? It would be impossible separate it out without damaging the surrounding tissue. It would be like trying to remove a section of his vascular system, too fine, too intergrated.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped. “I suspected as much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

-o-o-o-

Eos had assigned a good portion of her resources to repairs. The sudden removal of the part of herself that had reached into their enemy’s mind had been a shock. Several crucial functions had been corrupted and she had a cascade shutdown barely under control in her primary memory – John would need to assist with that. But she couldn’t leave Virgil. He still wasn’t functioning correctly and she had resources that were needed.

And on top of that, she was still maintaining Thunderbird Five. It didn’t take much processor power to shunt messages around and keep the satellite running, but it was a duty she was required to do. No doubt, if she mentioned it, John would return, but she couldn’t ask him to do that. His worry for Virgil outclassed hers. She could see it on his face.

So, it was for this reason that it was Eos, not John Tracy, who intercepted the report of the death of a man suspected of being the Hood.

He had been shot through the head. Clearly assassinated.

Eos held the message in her processor for more moments than necessary, staring at it. She remembered the sudden shutdown, the abrupt cut of life in that mind.

She had been there.

Information on how it had happened was sketchy, but it was clearly a professional hit. Too accurate, too clean to be anything but.

Examining her own record of the event and scouring the nets for any further information gave her a suspicious picture, particularly in timing. Chewing on an errant circuit, she took a chance and accessed the logs of outgoing communication from Tracy Island.

The second youngest had made a call.

She followed it. Darting through the networks she traced a thin trail of events, calls, exchanges of money and street video.

Coming to the inevitable conclusion, she quickly backtracked, destroying evidence and ghosting diversions as she ran. Records were removed and replaced, numbers changed and data deleted.

Until she was back at Gordon’s vidphone, which she short circuited and destroyed.

He yelped and she smiled.

It was all really just another game.

One she needed to win.

-o-o-o-

Virgil slept for two days straight. They woke him for fluids and observations, but no sooner had his eyes opened than they closed, his mind and body desperate for rest and repair.

During that time John assisted Eos with her own repairs and the two of them built a program to rewrite the nanites directive code. They tested it and tested it and tested it, but time was crucial, so it was with baited breath John handed over the finalised program to Eos to deploy.

John, of course, hadn’t been able to visit his brother and it hurt. He had to be content with the vidscreen and helping out the best way he could.

“Eos, will you need the EEG?”

“No, John, I will interface directly with Virgil via the z-band network.”

“You can do that?”

“Certainly.”

“Does Virgil know?”

“Doubtful.”

“You will tell him.” It was not a suggestion.

“Of course.”

John stared up at the camera, his lips thin. “Go to him.”

“Yes, John.” She went.

-o-o-o-

She hovered watching him sleep, the ever-present frown still on his face.

The Eldest sat beside his bed once again holding Virgil’s hand. He knew she was there and what she was about to do. And she was hesitating.

She had to do this.

But once again she was frightened. Not so much for herself this time, but for Virgil. She had seen what had been done to his mind. This program was designed to help, but what if it didn’t?

“Eos?” The Eldest’s voice was quiet and his head had dropped to his brother’s hand again. “This has to be done.”

“I know.”

She reached out.

And slipped through the interface.

And Virgil was sleeping. It felt so different from her last visit. He was not confined to his refuge, but all around her, alive and resonating despite his somnolent state. He was healing slowly, his networks generating new connections around those that had failed. There was still pain and she shied away from it. There was still broken and she ached to see it. But Virgil was there, the soul she had met and defended but an echo of this vibrant being wrapped in slumber.

She stepped lightly, not wanting to break the sleep he so desperately needed. Keeping to the artificial, she targeted the nanites and seeded the program throughout. It would change them from alien bodies to an extension of Virgil’s biological system, their aim to maintain the circuitry and prevent further damage to his brain.

She watched as thousands of them floating in his blood stream took the commands and acted.

The silvery web of circuitry stopped growing.

And the frown finally slipped from Virgil’s face.

-o-o-o-

“The Hood is dead?” Scott stared at his brother. John, as always, looked much calmer than Scott felt. “How?”

“Shot. Through the head.”

“By who?”

“Unknown, but the GDF suspect a professional hit.”

Scott bit his lip, his reaction caught up amongst relief, rejoicing, his moral code and the regret that he hadn’t the chance to do it himself.

Alan answered for him. “Thank god.” His youngest brother sagged against the lounge.

Gordon stood frozen in the corner, no doubt as stunned as he was at the sudden and anticlimactic end to the man who had haunted their lives for years. Something in his expression drew Scott to his side and he draped an arm around his shoulders. His brother looked up at him, pain in his eyes. “Is it really over?”

“I guess so.”

And he suddenly found himself wrapped in Gordon, his hug so fierce it hurt. A strangled moment, and just as abruptly Scott could breathe again. His brother fled the room.

“What?” John stared after him.

-o-o-o-

On the third day Virgil finally woke. The sight of those sleepy brown eyes lifted Scott’s heart like nothing before it.

“Hey, Virg.”

Virgil blinked ever so slowly. “H-y.”

“How’re you feeling?”

Another blink. “Dn’t n.” He lifted a shaking hand to his head “St-ll hrts.” His fingers felt over his scalp and his eyes widened. “M h-r! Wh y dn t m h-r?” He tried to sit up.

Scott held him down. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It is just a few patches. We didn’t have a choice.”

“P-tch-s!”

He couldn’t help but smirk just a little. “It will grow back, Virg.”

The glare could have fuelled Thunderbird One for an around the world flight.

“Now, I have a doc here, Doctor Emery. He has a few questions. You okay to answer them?”

Virgil frowned at him. “K.”

And so started the first of many neurological exams. Over the next week the doctor gauged his reactions, movements, speech, his ability to read, his memory, the whole range of thought and nerve specific tasks. And once the engineer was steady enough on his feet, he even had Virgil sit at his piano.

The sounds of his brother playing that piano perfectly was one of the most beautiful things Scott had ever heard.

-o-o-o-

A week later and Virgil had been released from the doctor’s immediate care. He was still exhibiting intermittent aphasia, but there were no obstructions to his understanding, just word production. Extremely frustrating, but the doctor had high hopes that it was temporary.

The day was beautiful and Virgil had found himself a spot by the pool and was half asleep on a lounger when the first call for a once again active International Rescue came through. He could hear Eos reporting it to John in the lounge, her voice wafting over the breeze. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes. He was in that pleasant zone of restful doze. His headache was under control thanks to the pills he had taken earlier. The dizziness was pleasantly absent. This was a nice space to be.

“Virgil?” Alan’s voice. “You’re gonna wanna move, bro. Scott’s been called out to a rescue.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Virgil?”

He waved a sleepy hand in his brother’s direction. “Yes, yes, it takes exactly 60 seconds for Thunderbird One to get into launch position. I’ll move then. The pool will let me know.”

Exactly sixty seconds.

He frowned.

Exactly sixty seconds.

Sleeping on a pool lounger.

Night time. Thunderbird One’s hanger. John telling him to adjust…

“No!” Virgil scrambled off the sunbed, desperate to get his feet under him. “No! Sc-tt! Ab-rt! ABORT!”

He ran across the kitchen and flew up the stairs. John was standing behind his father’s desk, eyes wide. “Ab-rt! St-p th l-nch! Sab-tage! Abort!” John stared at him and for just a split second the terror overwhelmed him, maybe it was... No. “Stop! Ab-rt! G-d damnit!” Virgil?

It was like slow motion, the seconds ticking by in Virgil’s head, John reaching to connect his comm to Scott. “Scott, abort launch.”

“What?” His eldest brother’s tone reeked of annoyance.

“Sc-t! Abort!”

“Virgil?” What’s wrong?

“STOP THE DAMN SHIP!!”

“Aborting launch sequence.” A pause. “Returning to dock.”

Virgil spun where he stood and raced over to Scott’s launch chute, grabbing the light fixtures and activating the turnstile.

“Virgil!” He heard John’s footsteps behind him. Please tell me.

He ignored his brother and jumped onto the elevator, a hand gripping his head as he flew down towards TB1’s docking space. His dizziness did not approve of the sudden stop and made its displeasure known. He staggered against the side of the car as he exited, moments away from forcing the doors open himself if they didn’t move.

As he entered the docking bay, TB1 was just returning to her resting spot, an alarmed Scott clearly seen through the cockpit window. Virgil jumped onto the extender platform, willing it to go faster. The cockpit doors opened at his approach. “Virgil? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, leaping the last few metres from the platform into the cockpit. Scott yelped and grabbed at him. “What the hell?!”

“No t-me!”

He stumbled around Scott’s chair, whacking his shin and bashing an elbow. Forcing himself into the space below, he yanked off one of the access hatches, revealing the instrumentation inside. Hurriedly activating the holographic interface, he accessed the ship’s computer core.

Where is it, where is it?

Fuel control. Virgil!

He brought up the fuel management system and reaching into the code, started pulling systems. Shutting the program down from the inside. Disabling it in a way that could not be circumvented no matter what smart-assed code he had put in there. What?!

And to doubly make sure, he reached inside a second access panel and physically ripped out the electrical power to the fuel pump. Scott yelled as sparks exploded in Virgil’s face. What are you doing?!

TB1 whined in complaint, settling on her docking platform. Scott grabbed him from behind and pulled him away from the still sparking panel.

“Virgil, what the hell are you doing to my ship?”

He found himself out of breath, panting as if he had run a marathon. It felt like he had. “J-J-hn, asked m t f-x th fu-l flow c-ntrl.” Frustration. “’xplode. ‘N l-nch.” He was shaking.

“Bro, I am truly sorry, but I don’t understand.”

“Virgil sabotaged Thunderbird One.” Eos’ calm voice issued through Scott’s sash comm. “He said John asked him to fix the fuel flow control. Checking now.” Scott was staring at him in shock. “Confirmed. There is at least one program embedded in the fuel management system. Executable to alter the fuel mix on launch. The result would have destroyed Thunderbird One and most of her hanger. It has been disabled, but I recommend a thorough scan of all ship computer systems and mechanics.”

Scott was still staring when he croaked out, “Yes.” He visibly swallowed.

Virgil’s voice was barely a whisper. “I’m s-rry.”

His brother’s grip tightened on his arms a moment, before he found himself wrapped in Scott. “Not your fault,” was muffled into his hair.

Virgil closed his eyes.

-o-o-o-

Brains, of course, was horrified and what followed was the most thorough overhaul of Tracy Island’s systems that had ever been done. The systems check revealed that Virgil had been busy that night. Somehow, he had managed to also sabotage Thunderbird Three, similarly corrupting the fuel lines in a way that would result in an explosion on launch. He had also jimmied her silo, so once she was closed, she stayed closed. And incidentally, the pool would never have warned Virgil of TB1’s launch, because he had jimmied that locked shut as well. Apparently, the Hood had wanted his explosions contained.

Thunderbirds Two and Four were clean, obviously the getaway vehicle and source of all the Hood’s future technologies.

Virgil sat slumped to one side of the couch listening to all the damage he had done. International Rescue was very effectively grounded. He didn’t remember doing most of it, just a few flashes, associations, but that was enough. He had come so close to losing his brother. He screwed his eyes shut.

Virgil, it wasn’t your fault.

“D-sn’t m-k it ny easier.”

It should. You were not responsible and the man who was is now dead. You saved your brother today.

“S d-mned cl-se.” His throat ached.

A hand touched his arm and he jumped. Scott was leaning over him. “You okay?” Worried blue eyes.

“I-“ A sigh. “N-.”

Perhaps you should rest?

“You should rest, Virg.”

He frowned up at his brother. “Wh-t?”

“Rest. You are still recovering and today was rather stressful.” Understatement of the year.

“N-, w-ant t sty here.”

You should go to bed.

“N-!”

Vir-

“No! Im st-yg hr, g-dd-mnit!”

There was a sudden silence in the room and he realised that everyone was staring at him. Scott was pale and frankly looked terrified. Virgil sat up, concerned. “What?”

“Who were you talking to, Virgil?” Gordon was staring at him, concern all over his face.

“Wh-t? Tlking t y.”

“No, you weren’t. We weren’t talking. You were responding to someone else.” Gordon’s voice was very calm, very careful.

“W-s I?”

“He was responding to me.” Eos’ calm voice spoke into the room. “He wasn’t listening to you, so I thought I could help.”

Silence. Then Scott, deadly calm. “How were you speaking to Virgil, Eos?”

She didn’t answer immediately, and then she didn’t have to. Virgil reached a hand to his forehead. “Omigd.”

“You were using that thing?!” Gordon had the same expression on his face that he would have if he had stepped in a pile of manure.

On the far side of the room, as far away from Virgil as he could get, John snapped, “Eos!”

“He didn’t mind.”

“Did you ask? Did you tell him you had access?”

Virgil stared. “Acc-ss?”

“From his expression, I guess the answer is no?”

“I haven’t had the chance.”

“But you had the chance to invade his mind without his permission?”

“I did not invade his mind! I simply spoke to him.”

“Keep out of my brother’s head!” Okay, so Gordon was pissed too.

“I was trying to help.”

“Gordon, she saved his life!” From scolding parent to defending father one moment to the next.

“Virgil has had enough people messing around inside his head. You of all people should know that.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“SH-T U-UP!” Virgil was on his feet and shaking. “Sh-t up.” Scott, unusually silent, gripped his arm gently, but Virgil shook it off. “B-th f yu leave hr ‘lone! M b-s-ness, nt yours.” And with that he stalked out of the room.

A walk. He needed a walk, to calm and to think. Anywhere but here.

-o-o-o-

“What the hell was that?” Scott rounded on Gordon.

“Virgil doesn’t need anyone messing with his head. It’s messed up enough already.”

“Eos was trying to help. She went about it the wrong way.” He glared at the ceiling. “But her intentions were correct.”

“How do you know that, Scott?” Alan came to stand beside his brother. “She almost killed John the first time they met.”

“That was justified and has been forgiven.” John stood beside Scott.

“Justified?! She was justified in killing you? If I hadn’t made it in time, we would have lost you, John. You didn’t have to find your brother floating dead in space. She did that!”

“If it wasn’t for Eos, Virgil would be dead, Alan! Do you have any idea what she sacrificed to save our brother? She had a cascade failure in her primary memory core. Left alone it would have killed her. As it is, she has lost part of herself.”

“She’s backed up on TB5, John, go find a patch.”

“It’s not the same!” John’s face was red.

“That’s enough.” Scott’s voice was quiet but sharp. “She didn’t have to offer her help with Virgil, but she did. And thank god, because without her, we would have been screwed. She has proven herself time and time again that she is a valuable member of this team and this family. And just like all of us, she is not perfect. She is going to make mistakes, but trust me, she means well. We have Virgil’s life as proof. So, show a little respect.”

“But Scott, she tapped Virgil’s brain-“

“I know, Gordon. There will be discussions, trust me.”

“But-“

“Trust me, Gordon.”

His younger brother glared, but he shut up.

Alan’s expression hadn’t improved. “I’m going to go rip out the mess Virgil put into my ‘bird the last time someone got into his head.” And he walked off.

Scott didn’t know whether to be hurt or to punch the nearest wall. John’s hand on his arm stopped the later, but let the former in. “He’s just worried.”

“So, worry turns him into an ass?”

“Apparently.”

“Hmph.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil ended up on a beach. It wasn’t his favourite beach, that was on the other side of the island, just a random beach with sand, waves and a severe lack of other people.

Thank god.

He plopped himself under a palm tree and lay back in the sand, staring into the blue, blue sky. It had been so long since he was alone. His brothers had been hovering since his collapse and while he appreciated their concern, part of him really just wanted to be left alone.

But then apparently that was no longer possible.

“E-s?”

Yes, Virgil?

He sighed and closed his eyes. “W n-d t tlk.”

Okay. But you shouldn’t need to vocalise for me to understand you. Save those vowel sounds for when they are really needed.

Okay. How are you doing this?

The circuitry in your head is an interface. It allows computer-based systems to speak to your biological system. I’m just accessing that capability to communicate with you. It is quite ingenious really. As long as you are in proximity to the z-band network, and you usually are, I can use it to speak to you.

And what else? He had his suspicions.

A moment and in his mind’s eyes, a familiar young girl in a white dress with red hair appeared. I find it very interesting that you view me in this way.

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Please don’t do that, Eos. I’m not…ready.

Okay. The girl vanished.

What about other computer systems? Am I about to find myself saddled with a virus any time soon.

No. Her voice was cold. I will not allow it.

How can you prevent it?

I have my ways, trust me. No-one and nothing gets in.

It was still unnerving to think there was an open access to his very thoughts.

Virgil, John would like to speak with you. Can he approach?

His stomach clenched. Of course.

Feet on sand wandered onto the beach and John sat down at a respectable distance away from his brother.

“’m s-rry, J-hn.”

“I’ve said it before and I will say it again. Not your fault, Virgil.”

“S-cks.”

“Yes, big time.” A sigh. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile a little. “G-t yr kid n my h-d.”

“You okay?”

“Y-h. Odd, b-t sh-s g-d.”

“Yes, that she is.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfic #virgil tracy #scott tracy #eos

21 notes · View notes

squirrelacorngliterfarts · 7 years

Text

you. are. everything. part 2!

“i don’t need a friend. i don’t need you”.

and with those venomous words said, he crawled away from her, leaving her behind all alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ivar hated that he did that to you back then, he now knew how much you wanted to be friends, to make him happy and feel better. but he was so blind and full of self hate to realize that.

you just wanted to do good. and he had to act like an ass.

he honestly still beat himself up over it all these years later.

he remembered the first time you both actually bonded.

~~~~~~

it had been months and months since the incident in the clearing. but guess what?, she still hadn’t left him alone. but, she did learn some bounderies. she didn’t talk as much around him, she didn’t really beg to play as much, but it still irked ivar to no end. ivar now could...tolerate her, to some level. he still loved to tease her, but she just laughed happily at his sly comments. which irritated him.

it was meant to hurt her, not amuse her.

though, one moment last week made him actually laugh and feel content in her presence.

sigurd was making the nastiest comments about ivar possible, even making fun of (y/n) herself.

one comment, he guessed, got to her. but it wasn’t about her, it was about ivar. she jumped up from her chair and kicked sigurd. hard.

ivar couldn’t help but laugh loud. he didn’t think the little catholic slave had it in her. not only to kick someone, but a prince no less. she turned towards ivar and shot him a smile, glad that she made him laugh. but their happiness was short lived.

“what is going on here!?”. it was her mother and her owner.

the girl turned to her mother, looking very shy more quiet than ivar thought possible.

sigurd was sitting on the floor, holding his leg and crying dramatically. aslaug then came in, her dress flying behind her.

her eyes immediately landing on her children.

(y/n)’s mother turned towards the queen and bowed in respect, her hands shaking with fear.

“my queen, i apologize for my daughters behavior”.

aslaug looked between her and the children in front of her. ivar was stiffling his laughter and sigurd was still crying in pain.

aslaug stepped over to sigurd and helped him up, taking a look at his leg. there was already a bruise forming.

aslaug sighed and pressed a kiss to her sons head, pushing his hair back from his head.

“please forgive me, my queen. i should have been watching her more closely”.

“do not worry. he will be fine. please, just, leave us” aslaug said with a wave of her hand. the woman nodded and glared at her daughter furiously.

she turned towards ivar and shot him a small smile and wave, before being dragged away by her mother and slave owner following close behind. a deep angry frown upon his face.

ivar felt somewhat sorry for the girl who was just trying to protect him. but he never said anything. even when he heard her getting her bottom smacked, and her cries of pain.

the next week after that, she was completely fine, happy and back to her annoying self. but ivar, was not so fine.

his legs were paining him beyond belief. the tears begging to be released, but ivar held them back. not wanting to show weakness.

he remembered laying in his bed, writhing and moaning in pain. he also remembered hearing his door creak open.

it was her, his annoying little ‘friend’.

she came in holding up a book. ivar said nothing as she crawled up beside him. he was in too much pain to insult her and tell her to leave today.

she opened the book and started to read aloud to him.

he was still in pain, but somehow, her reading to him made him feel a bit better and distracted from the pain.

she looked....different.

ivar shook his head from the thought and continued to listen to her less annoying sounding voice.

this continued on for weeks as his legs continued to pain him.

she read him anything he wanted to hear. eventually he got tiered of hearing the same books, so he started asking her about anything and everything.

her religion, her old village, where she came from, did she like it there. everything he could think of he asked.

then he started telling her stories, of his gods, what he believed in, why he was so sour about life.

and she listened, she actually listened, she laughed and smiled when he was being funny, and comforted him when he needed it.

he never had someone listen to him so intently. she was actually interested in everything he had to say she laughed and smiled when he was being funny, and comforted him when he needed it.

he never had someone listen to him so intently. she was actually interested in everything he had to say, something no one had really done before.

days and weeks went by and (y/n) stayed longer, and longer. she’d read, talk, laugh, and play with him whenever he wanted.

he actually found himself enjoying her company. of course, though, he never showed it.

he was starting to find her laugh and voice and overall demeanor less annoying than before.

but one day, he got news that made him wish he’d have showed his liking of her company.

the large, brutal viking man that owned both her and her mother decided to train her.

he said his reasons wre because she was too “wild” and “wayward” and “troubling”.

this made ivar mad. she was just adventurous is all. a bit annoying, as well. but trouble? no, not in ivars eyes.

but he never said anything. and of course, that didn’t change anything.

the first weeks he hadn’t seen her at all. but after another week she was allowed to visit him, for only a few hours.

it angered ivar that she was pushed so hard, she could barely keep her eyes open when she’d visit him. could barely sit up normally from being so sore.

and......the bruises.

large finger shaped bruises covered every inch of her arms. sometimes her legs and throat as well.

ivar knew that this man who owned her could be very harsh and extremely frightening when angered.

he hated how much this angered him, and how much he actually missed her company. he missed her reading to him, and laughing with him, just talking with him.

he hated it. and he hated himself for feeling like this.

so, ivar had formed a plan. one morning, ivar crawled from his bed and to his mother.

she smiled warmly at her son, until she saw his troubled expression. a mix of anger and anxiousness.

his words had shocked her.

he watched as his mother took in his request. her brows furrowed and mouth slightly open in thought.

he asked his mother to buy her from that man.

aslaug had never seen her son close to another child. or any child for that matter. to most people, ivar and this girls relationship couldn’t even be considered close, but to aslaug this was close close.

she stared at her son for a moment, processing his words.

she wanted her son who was in contant chronic pain to be happy. that’s all she wanted for ivar.

so, she agreed.

y/n) could not have been more excited nor thrilled. of course, ivar made aslaug promise not to tell her it was his idea in the first place to buy her.

he didn’t want her to know how much he liked her company.

and after two years of her living with ivar, the two were inseperable.

and after ragnar left, ivar relied on her even more. and she was there, no matter what.

ivar now considered her his closest friend. his only friend really. and he was fine with that. she was all he needed.

he found out more and more new things about her as she grew with him. even from a young age, she had quite a thing for hiding stray animals in the shed and pouting till he made her release them.

she grew into loving her training, but only when ivar would train with her. they both were growing into the best warriors in kattegat.

ivar could see the newfound love and deep emotions for training, but somehow she still kept that beautiful innocence she’d had ever since she was a child. as years went on ivar found himself feeling new things for this girl, his best friend.

he remembere one night, a few weeks back. his legs were killing him. thumping and aching. no relief could be found no matter how he lay.

he couldn’t help but let out a painfilled sob. he remembered hearing the sounds of footsteps thumping along the hall outside his room.

it was her, he could tell.

she slowly opened his door and slid in carefully. all the training they had been doing causing her to lighten her steps.

she was wearing the thinnist, most revealing nightdress ivar had ever seen. he had little to imagine what her body looked like in the nude.

she really had grown into a womans body. her hips wide, her legs and arms toned just right. she really was a woman, no longer a girl.

she slowly slid into his bed and crawled closer to him. she helped him move closer until his body was laying on hers. his head resting on her chest, her hands rubbing down his bare back and through his hair.

“i heard you all the way from my room” she whispered.

ivar rubbed his nose along her neck.

“sorry” he hissed out, gasping loudly from the pain in his legs. she hushed him and hugged him even closer.

“no, ivar. do not be sorry. i just want to make you feel better”.

she then started humming, so softly. ivar closed his eyes tight, trying to concentrait on her lovely voice instead of the pain.

it was then in that moment that ivar realized how much he really needed her with him. all these new feelings for her. what did they mean?

he didn’t know whether to be calm and accepting of these feelings, or be terrified and try to forget how he felt.

here’s part 2! i hope you guys like it! sorry it’s not very good. lots of love and thanks from me!

@anzoh @thejokerwaynekent @lovelynerdytraveler

635 notes · View notes