#ALSO I didn’t really think the Bishop and the Knight would work so well together but honestly I can see it-

[whereismyhat5678]

can you draw chess rook x the guiotine and chess knight x chess bishop from the kings leap

N’aaww 💖💖 These two are very cute, and the Guillotine lady is adorable- <x]

And- *Gasp* Oh my- 👁️👁️💧

I’m sorry- I just feel the Bishop would be an asshole BECAUSE HE CERTAINLY WAS AN ASSHOLE TO ME- (Fucking gauntlet- *kicks the floor*)

Still had fun with this though- the gay panic is real- 💀

[ncisfranchise-source]

Brian Dietzen had a tall order when it came to the latest NCIS episode he cowrote with Scott Williams: the tribute to Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard and the actor who played him, the late David McCallum. But it’s one the two were more than ready to take on.

“When you lose someone very close, you can fall into just crying and mourning continually, and while we wanted to pay homage to him, we didn’t want that to be it,” Dietzen tells TV Insider ahead of the February 19 episode. “We wanted to celebrate the fun times as well, and we wanted to celebrate the amazing work that this great actor did on our show and also honor the character that he created. And I think both those people, the character and the actor, would love to see us continuing on and honoring him through continuing to do good work.”

The Season 21 premiere ended with Dietzen’s Dr. Jimmy Palmer calling Alden Parker (Gary Cole) to tell him of Ducky’s death. Now, the focus will turn to celebrating him—and solving the case he was working on before he died. Below, Dietzen talks about writing the episode and shares memories with McCallum, going back to their first scene together.

Talk about how you co-writing this episode came about because it is so fitting that you did so.

Brian Dietzen: We had the work stoppage this last year because of the [writers’ and actors] strikes, so we have a 10-episode order this season instead of our normal 22, sometimes 24 episodes. I’ve been cowriting with Scott Williams just about once a year, the last couple years, and so this year, I let my showrunners, David North and Steven Binder, know that I wasn’t going to request a script because we have a wonderful writing staff and I felt like, oh, there’s no need for me to step in there because we only have 10 episodes. Then David passed away, and I think that Scott really wanted to write his farewell episode and he thought it would be fitting if it would be a co-written with me. David and Steve said, that’s super appropriate. We all think that’s a really good thing, and you two obviously work well together, so go off and do your thing. I was really honored to be asked to do so, and I just wanted to make him proud.

What was your approach to this episode? Because you have to balance honoring David, honoring Ducky, but then also the case and the team’s grief.

Yeah, I think it’s really important that this remains an NCIS episode. It cannot just be some series of flashbacks to prior Ducky Mallard scenes. It was really important for us that we still have a case to solve. You’re living in a legacy of this person that you’ve lost, being Ducky, so we decided to craft a case where there would be something that would thematically link the case to the team’s loss, and those two don’t necessarily have to go hand in glove. They don’t have to be related. It’s not as though the case has to be related to Ducky in any way, but thematically speaking, it really should be.

Michael Yarish/CBS

What can you say about any characters returning or the acknowledgement of them and what Ducky meant to them?

What we tried to do with this episode was we tried honor the team that he worked with, and when I say the team, I mean the greater team, not just this team that we have right now that involves Parker, Torres [Wilmer Valderrama], Knight [Katrina Law], McGee [Sean Murray], Palmer, Kasie [Diona Reasonover], and Vance [Rocky Carroll]. The greater team is all of the different teams he’s worked with, many of which involved Gibbs [Mark Harmon], and then of course there’s Tony [Michael Weatherly] and Ziva [Cote de Pablo], and there’s Bishop [Emily Wickersham], Abby [Pauley Perrette], of course, and everyone in between.

And so when we wrote this thing, while it’s certainly not a show that’s just all about clips or anything like that, there are these remembrances of Ducky and we wanted to see him interacting with people that are on our current team and also people that are on our iterations of our team, too. I think we did a pretty good job with that, and I think that people like to see that they’re getting to see their Ducky many years past as well as the more recent.

What moments working with David came to mind while you were writing the episode then filming it?

Oh, about 6,000, if I’m being honest. I was going through, and I was looking up my first scene with him with a tape recorder at the end of Season 1. I was looking at “The Meat Puzzle” in Season 2. I was looking at “Detour,” a Steven Binder classic where we’re being chased through the woods directed by Mario Van Peebles. That was actually a really cool episode to look back on because David, if I look at it now, I thought, oh man, he was 80 years old, 81 years old when we shot that episode. And it’s Jimmy and Ducky running through a wooded forest at night in the snow, and obviously asking an 80-something-year old man to do that for continual night shoots, that’s not okay. So they ended up building a whole forest on our set and made it snow [and] we shot it during the day.

Monty Brinton/CBS

Some of those things hit me and memories hit me. And so as I’m watching all these old shows as we’re writing this new show, I can’t tell you how many just good times that we had together, and I don’t want to try to summarize it in just a couple of quotes here because it’s tough to summarize 20 years of friendship and 20 years of camaraderie and mentorship and great scenes together being shared. But what I will say is that the thing that I’ll always remember and that hit me so hard when I was watching all of these things is just what a terrific worker David McCallum was continually. He always showed up prepared. He knew his things. He did every scene with the absolute best of his ability. And that’s something that I watched him do for years and tried to adopt for myself as well. So yeah, it’s been an honor.

How do you remember Jimmy and Ducky’s relationship?

I see it as a partnership and somewhat of a mentorship. I remember there’s one point at which some writer on our staff years ago—I can’t remember who the person was exactly—started wanting to get into this, oh, he’s like a son to Ducky, this is like his father figure, and had some lines about that. And David said, “Oh, no, no, no, no, no. They’re partners, and they’re work colleagues. The second we start getting into a hierarchy of, he’s my son or I’m his father sort of thing, there’ll be a power dynamic that I don’t want to explore too much. I want it to be that Jimmy can speak his mind when he needs to and so can Ducky.” And that’s the way he treated it. It was really about, we’re in this thing together.

I think that was what was really, really great about those two characters is that they both lifted each other up. Jimmy had this reverence for Ducky that was so easy to see, and Ducky, the moment that he found out that Jimmy had passed his medical examiner’s license test, he was a doctor, the first thing he says is “Dr. Palmer” with all this pride in his voice. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say it made me teary to think about because David treated me that way as well in my personal life. He was very kind, very proud when I started to take over more of the load of the M.E. at NCIS. He’d call me and say, “I love the scene you did. I love this and that. I’m so proud you’re doing this in my stead.” And so yeah, art imitated life here and there.

What do you recall about your first and last scenes together?

Our first scene together, I remember I booked this episode. It was a one day guest star, and so I was just going to go and do one scene for NCIS, and it was a spinoff of JAG, and I think I’d seen one episode of it at the time, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t know who David McCallum was, and I’d never seen The Man from U.N.C.L.E.. At the time, I’d never seen The Great Escape. So I was pretty uncultured. I walked in, and I did this scene with this really terrific actor. That’s all I knew. I just knew, well, he’s really good, he’s really fantastic. And so I went home and I looked up, who is this guy? What has he been in before? Only to find out that he was like one of film and TV’s Beatles from the 1960s. [Laughs] He was a living legend, and that was pretty great.

And what was wonderful is that we got along well and the producer at the time, Don Bellisario, saw, oh, those two work really well together. Let’s have Brian come back next week and then the next week and then the next week. It’s because the two of us worked well together and we worked well on our scenes that I got to keep working. So that was really, really wonderful.

I’ll say one of the last scenes that I remember doing with David in person—because over the last few years, David was shooting most of his scenes in New York and we would have him on a screen or an iPad or something like that—was Ducky and Jimmy at a diner just eating together. There was no case that we were talking about, there was no red herring or anything like that. It was just two guys sitting there talking about a girl that Jimmy likes, and it was a friend listening to another friend over a sandwich. I thought, looking back on it, that’s really wonderful. Because we did that so often within our autopsy scenes where the scene is about this body before us and all of the evidence that we have to deliver to the rest of the team, but the dialogue could be about just about anything. We could be joking about things. He could be going off on some diatribe about something that was seemingly unrelated but it really came through historically in this situation. And so yeah, it was a cool scene to go back and reflect on.

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {4}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2429

IBSY Masterlist

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October 1940, The Autumn Court

Major Cassian Nazari was bored.

Nesta could sense it from where she was, back turned to him at the other end of the tent. It had also been a sign when she came in that morning and he was complaining, loudly, to Madja. I don’t see why I can’t get up and walk around. I’m fine. And bored shitless.

Madja, of course, had told him, Very well, Major. Do as you wish.

Cassian had taken two steps before a wave of nausea hit him from the pain, and he was throwing up his breakfast. After a dose of pain medicine, he had fallen asleep.

Now, he was awake, his pains were dulled, and he was loud.

Loud, and having a one-sided conversation with the unconscious soldier next to him about his favorite brands of whiskey.

He was just getting to the pros of living near a distillery, back in Velaris, when Nesta approached his cot. He glanced over to her and gave him a smile. A sleepy, drug-induced smile. “Nurse Nesta.”

“Major,” she replied, sitting next to his bed. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Feeling great. Ready to get back out there.”

“Really now?” She asked, feeling his head for fever. He’d been warm after getting sick and she wanted to check and be sure they hadn’t missed some sign of infection setting in. His skin was cool as could be now. “So this morning was just a reaction to the breakfast porridge?”

He got quiet immediately and rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” She helped him sit up and checked the wounds on his back. They weren’t healing like she would have liked, but it was also likely he could have used stitches over a few of them. His burns were healing nicely though, even though she knew they still caused him quite a lot of pain. The broken arm and shoulder were the same.

Now that his shoulder was set correctly, it was all about keeping him still, which seemed to be a continual problem for him.

“I can’t sit here forever,” he claimed. “I’ll go insane.”

“You need something to occupy your mind,” Nesta said. “I’ll bring you some books.”

Cassian snorted. “Your romances? I’ll pass.”

Nesta huffed and shook her head. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult a man you are?”

“On many occasions,” Cassian noted. “Mostly women.”

Nesta sighed and helped him fall back against his pillows. “I’ll be back.”

“Good,” he muttered with a yawn as she walked away. After telling her fellow nurses she’ll be back in a moment, Nesta exited the tent and walked to the one just across the way from it, where the nurses slept. She strode to her tent in the far corner and grabbed an old western romance that he would surely read if bored enough, then pulled a suitcase from underneath her cot and popped it open.

The old, folded-up wooden chess board that sat inside had once belonged to her father. They used to play often, before the death of Nesta’s mother.

All the pieces were slightly dusty, but still in good shape. She picked up one of the ivory pawns, wiping it off with the apron tied around her waist, careful not to get any blood or antiseptic lotion on it. Without the dust coating it, the piece shined and she replaced it in its home before cleaning off each piece. She closed the suitcase, carrying it, the book, and a small, foldable tray back across the camp, and into the med tent.

As soon as Cassian saw her, he zeroed in on the case. “What’s that?”

“First,” she said, sitting down and holding the book out for him. “I brought you this.”

His face twisted with a twinge of pain as he reached out and took it, opening it and flipping through it. He paused on a random page and read a few lines. His eyes widened. “This is…explicit.”

Nesta’s cheeks reddened.

“It’s a romance,” he groaned.

“It’s an old western,” she defended. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a very good book.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian sat it on the side table, but pointed at the suitcase, which she had set down to unfold the tray. “And what’s that?” He repeated.

Nesta set it on the end of his cot and opened it. “Until I’m needed, we’ll play chess.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before repeating, “Chess?”

She lifted a brow as she set up the board, on top of the tray. “You’re complaining about the forms of entertainment I offer?”

Cassian hesitated, and Nesta secretly liked that hesitation. For once, a comment made by her actually made him think. Usually, he was so quick on his feet. She liked it when he wasn’t.

“Fine,” he said, at last, clearing his throat. “But, it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You may have to refresh my memory.”

She suppressed her smile, moving the tray just next to his bed, so it would be within his reach. “I can do that.”

He nodded, grunting as he got himself into a sitting position. Nesta made a move toward him, but he held up a hand, letting him know he could do it on his own.

Even if it was just barely.

She laid out the pieces, almost reverently, but quickly and efficiently. She didn’t have to think about where the pieces went and before he knew it, the board was set in front of them. The white pieces sat on his side of the board, the black on her own. She gestured for him to make a move.

He reached for one of the pieces in the front, but then pulled his hand back. Twice, he repeated the movement, before clearing his throat and saying, “Ladies first.”

“That’s not how chess works, Major,” she chuckled. “White goes first, black second.”

He nodded and stared back down at the board. “Right.”

Picking up one of the pawns, Cassian moved it diagonally, as if it were a checker.

Nesta blinked, waiting for him to move it back or chuckle as if he were playing a joke. “That’s not how you move a pawn forward.”

His cheeks heated and she knew he was embarrassed. “Well not all of us grew up as well off as you were.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta was unable to stop the surprised chuckle from bubbling from her lips. “Excuse you, sir?”

“I’m just saying, only spoiled, rich girls grew up playing chess.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry at his words. “You don’t know how to play chess, do you?”

“I told you I would need your help.” He wasn’t looking at her, just the board and pieces.

“When’s the last time you played chess?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Never.”

Nesta stared at him for a moment, waiting for an explanation. “Never?”

Cassian’s head fell back and he groaned. “Nurse, are you going to make me ask you to explain the rules to me or do I have to make a fool of myself any longer?”

Nesta pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Very well.”

She went on to explain the rules to him, then just to make sure she was not setting him up for failure, she explained the rules to him, again.

The pawn can move one square, unless it is the first time they move, then they can move two. It can’t move backwards. They can capture pieces on either space, diagonally, in front of them.

The knight moves in an L shape. Don’t ask why.

Bishop is a bit of a roamer. It can move in diagonally, as many squares as it wishes.

The rook can move both horizontally and vertically, as many squares as it wishes, as well.

The Queen is basically the best, most important piece. She can move however she wishes, wherever she wishes.

Cassian stared at the board thoughtfully. “Hmm. And the king, again?”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “He can move only one square in any direction.”

“And he decides who wins the game?” Cassian asked, head cocked to the side as he stared at the board, trying to imagine it all.

“More or less, yes,” Nesta said, watching him study the board. “When a player attacks the other’s king, it’s called a check. A checkmate, or the win, is what happens when the opposing king can no longer make any legal moves.”

“So you must protect the king at all costs, then?” Cassian asked. “That’s the purpose of the other pieces?”

“It is,” Nesta nodded.

“And that’s why the queen is such an important piece?” he continued, meeting her gaze. “Why she has the most freedom? To protect her king?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Speaking like that, I cannot believe that you don’t admire a good romance novel.”

“I already told you, I don’t think women are meant to stay home and do nothing but become mothers,” he replied, reaching out and moving his own piece properly this time. “However, a boring book about two people falling in love? No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Falling in love isn’t boring,” she defended, moving her own piece.

He grunted in answer, making his move.

Nesta looked at him, gauging his non-reply. “Have you ever been in love, Major?”

“Now who’s asking the personal questions,” he muttered, waiting for her to take her turn. She did, silently waiting for him to answer. He picked up the piece, studying the board, though barely anything had been done to need strategy yet. “No. I haven’t.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before looking back down at the board. “Interesting.”

Cassian moved his piece at last. “Don’t worry, plenty of women have been in love with me, I just haven’t returned the feeling.”

Nesta couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Of course you would think so.”

Cassian’s grin told her it was all just a joke, but Nesta had no doubt that Cassian had had his fair share of women throughout the years.

“What about you?” He asked. “I know about your ex, of course, but have you ever been in love?”

It was Nesta’s turn to be quiet, but she pretended to be thinking over a move. “Yes,” she finally admitted, moving one of her knights, which had finally been unblocked by her pawns. “At least, I think so, at least. Things with Tom were…complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing,” he replied, mirroring her own move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, finally catching on to how he’d been playing. She said nothing about the game though, and continued on. “There’s a reason we aren’t together anymore, if you recall.”

Nesta moved another piece and he asked, “Would you go back to him? If you found out he’d been waiting for you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, still staring at the board, if only to keep from having to look at him. “His family was much better off than mine, which was the reason for our engagement anyways. I came here to keep my sisters from having to do so.”

“That doesn’t sound like love,” Cassian murmured, taking his turn.

“And what makes you such an expert on the subject?” Nesta snapped.

Cassian slowly met her eyes once he set down his knight. He didn’t look offended by her tone. Instead, he remained quiet for a moment, then said, “I may not waste my time reading romance novels, and I may have never been in love, nurse, but I have plenty of experience in what love is not.”

She couldn’t place it, but she didn’t like why his voice became so…sad when he said it. “I didn’t mean to react in such a way,” she replied, not even paying attention to the moves she was making at this point. “I’m just not…accustomed to talking to anyone about these sorts of things. Especially a patient.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

Nesta nodded and broke his gaze as her eyes settled back on the board. After a moment, she moved her queen and said, “Check.”

Cassian blinked, eyes darting to the board, trying to find how his king was in jeopardy. Once he saw it, he tried to figure a way out of it, but after five minutes of thinking, he knocked his king down in surrender.

Nesta suppressed her smile as she outstretched her hand. “Good game, Major.”

He chuckled and shook her hand. “Nice lie, nurse.”

“Perhaps we can play again tomorrow,” Nesta asked, with a questioning tone.

Cassian met her eyes, and the edge in them softened as he said, quietly, “I would like that.”

She nodded and began putting it away as a few nurses entered the tent with big boxes in their arms. “Looks like we got some care packages from Velaris, gentlemen.”

Cassian’s brows rose, and Nesta chuckled at the excitement that flooded through the tent from those who were awake. In a war, it was the little things that made it all better.

Nesta placed the chessboard beneath Cassian’s cot and rose to help the nurses go through the boxes. With everything they pulled out, there was an announcement.

We’ve got candies!

Homemade breads and jams!

The funnies from the newspapers!

Tea!

Nesta reached into the box and pulled out a big carton and announced, “Cigarettes!”

That one got a round of applause, but nowhere near the number of cheers that the whiskey got. It went on for another few minutes, and then for the first time in quite some time, something that resembled joy could be felt in their little war camp.

As the goodies were dispersed, Nesta’s eyes kept trailing to Cassian.

She was surprised to find his eyes on her as well. Carrying one of the small bottles of the cheap whiskey that had been sent, she found herself standing beside his cot. She set the bottle down on the side table, along with a pack of cigarettes, and said, “Might not be the brand you prefer, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d drink anything right about now, brand doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “If you could possibly get me some of that sweet bread and blackberry jam though, it might make it just a bit easier to go down.”

She shook her head, saying, “You’re unbelievable.” But she knew she would get it for him, she’d make sure of it.

Because his smile was the first thing that made her own appear without being forced in quite a while.

[spencerreidslove]

Hello! I am in love with your writing, you’ve written most of my favorite fics! I was wondering if you could write a fic where Gideon comes back (Nelson’s sparrow never happens) and he runs into Spencer who has a wife and kids and is a MAN now, and Gideon is shocked because Reid has changed so much. They reconnect and it’s pretty fluffy like they spend a day together and reconcile their relationship🥺 you don’t have to write this, I’ll still read and love every piece you continue to write!

A/N: I am so sorry it look me like 18 years to write this but I ADORE this request and I wanted to get it just right. I hope I did it justice. Also I know very little about chess, so I’m sorry if it’s incorrect. (Posting two days in a row? Who do I think I am?)

———

“Your move, Spence.” You said, looking at your husband from across the chess table.

It was a warm day and you and Spencer had decided to take your daughter, Lucy, to the park. Lucy was only two, and didn’t really understand how to play chess, but she liked sitting on your lap and watching the faces Spencer would make at her.

“Which peice should I move, Lucy?” Spencer asked dramatically.

“Horsey!” Lucy said, pointing at the knight.

Spencer picked up the knight and moved it around the board, making horse noises before placing it on its new place.

Lucy giggled before turning and snuggling back into your shoulder.

“Playground!” Lucy called putting, noting the play structure behind you.

“We’re almost done, then we’ll go play.” You said, picking up a peice and moving it around the board.

“Playground!” Lucy said again, this time more stubborn.

“Go on. We know I would’ve won anyway.” Spencer said. You playfully rolled you eyes and stood up, following Lucy along to the playground.

-

Spencer watched Y/N follow Lucy to the playground twenty feet away. Spencer smiled. He could just barely see the start of Y/N’s baby bump, and smiled as he turned his attention back to the chessboard.

Spencer started resetting the peices before somebody said something.

“Mind if I sit here?” An oddly familiar voice said from across from Spencer.

Spencer looked up and suddenly it was 10 years ago.

Standing across from him was none other than Jason Gideon.

Spencer froze, not quite sure what to do.

Gideon raised his eyebrow, waiting for a response.

“I-uh-yeah, you can sit here.” Spencer squeaked out.

Gideon sat down and finished putting the chess peices back in the right places. “How have you been, Spencer?” Gideon asked.

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. He was 90% sure that he had fallen and hit his head, and was now in some kind of coma where it was 10 years ago. Spencer pinched his wrist, but no, he was very much awake.

And across from him was Gideon, talking like nothing had happened. But something had happened. Gideon has left the BAU with only a note, never to be seen again, until today.

“I’m ok. How are you?” Spencer asked.

Gideon shrugged. He moved a pawn forward on the board, clearly starting a game with Spencer. “I’ve been better.”

Spencer moved his pawn forward, still a little dazed.

“Clearly you’re doing well.” Gideon said, picking up another pawn and motioning it twoards the wedding band on Spencer’s hand.

A smile broke out across Spencer’s face. “Yeah, you could say that.” He said.

“What’s her name?” Gideon asked, not looking up from the chess board.

“Y/N.” Spencer said.

Gideon nodded. There were a few minutes of quiet as the pair played chess. From the playground there was the sound of a child crying, and Spencer looked up, relieved when he saw that Y/N and Lucy were fine.

Gideon, ever the profiler noticed this but let a beat pass before he asked. “So which one is yours?”

“Huh?” Spencer asked, looking up from the chess board. 

“When the kid cried you looked up at the playground. Which one is yours?” Gideon said. “Check in five.”

“The little girl on the green slide. Lucy.” Spencer said.

Gideon turned around to look, and Spencer moved his rook to capture Gideon’s bishop. Gideon turned back to the game and made a move before he asked his next question.

“Are you still at the BAU?”

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “What have you been doing?”

“Traveling. Looking into some things.”

“What’re you doing back here? Check in two.” Spencer said.

“I was around.” Gideon said. He pondered his next move carefully before moving one of his peices.

“Check.” Spencer said, moving his queen.

Gideon moved one of his peices and and sat back in his chair.

Spencer smiled and then moved his queen again. “Checkmate.”

Gideon smiled as well. “You’ve clearly had some practice.”

“Just a little.”

The two reset the peices.

“I might stay in town for a while longer. If you would be willing to play another game of chess, you should let me know.” Gideon said. He reached into his pocket to find a notepad and quickly scribbled down his phone number.

Spencer took the number, smiling. A shriek of joy came from the playground, and Spencer looked up to see that this time it was his daughter.

At that same moment Y/N looked up from Lucy to make eye contact with Spencer.

Spencer and Gideon stood up from the table and shook hands. “I won’t keep you any longer.” Gideon said.

The pair parted and Spencer made his way down the hill to the playground, feeling renewed. Knowing that he would see Gideon again soon made him realize that he was great full for some many things in his life.

If Spencer hadn’t met Y/N and never had Lucy, he might not have been sitting at that table and might have never seen Gideon again.

“Who was that?” Y/N asked when Spencer reached her and Lucy, who was in a swing.

“Somebody I used to work with.” Spencer said, smiling.

Tags! (Open)

@rexorangecouny @magnificentmgg @rachelxwayne @itsmyblogandiwillblogifiwantto @andreasworldIsboring101

[a-simple-imagine]

The Smarter Witch

Synopsis: You like to consider Hermione your academic rival but things begin to fall apart between the two of you when Malfoy and friends start asking questions. The reader is in Slytherin sorry.

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader (can be read as romantic or platonic)

Words: 3.5+

A/N - I’ve been rewatching all the Harry Potter Movies at the cinema recently and I think i like it more now than I ever did before. This is my first HP story so go easy on me, okay? Comments are appreciated and requests are open!!

Warnings - Swearing, excessive use of the word mudblood... i think that’s it. 

"Granger," You call out, shoving your things into your bag as quick as humanly possible before charging after her. The crowd of other students growing the distance between you as you slip between them but not without almost crashing into people a bunch of times along the way. "Granger- wait." You try but she continues to walk away with Potter and Weasley beside her. You eventually manage to push your way through until you're walking in step with the trio. The girl stands in the middle, guarded by her two best friends.

"Hey," You offer them a smile, "Guess who got a perfect?"

"How?" It's instinctive to turn your nose up when it comes to Ronald Weasley. Not because of his social status like Malfoy suggests but you just found him rather... irritating. You completely ignore his question; breaking formation, you get ahead of the group and begin to carefully walk backwards so you can focus on the girl. She looked anywhere but at you, however, she had a smirk on her lips. Small but visible.

"Only because Snape favours you," The brunette proclaimed. This was routine for the two of you as of late. Always making excuses as to why the other came out on top. Only because of this. Only because of that. It was never as simple as just studying and doing well.

"You're just jealous that I'm a genius." You insist, your smile growing as you teased your own brilliance. Her head shakes a little.

"Since when were you, two friends?"

"Nobody said anything about friends Weasley-" You growl, your once happy expression morphing into one of pure distaste as you look at him. Spinning gracefully on your heel, you begin to walk normally again. "Since I'm so much smarter than you, I can help you study if you need it."

"I don't need any help from the likes of you, thank you," The likes of you? Did she mean a Slytherin? Or just someone who was smarter than her? Although you didn't actually believe you were smarter... well, not entirely anyway. Hermione Granger was often proclaimed as the smartest in your grade, didn't matter how hard you worked; you'd never quite be the promising young witch everyone seemed to think she was. Which is why you find yourself constantly competing. If you can prove to her you were smart then maybe everyone would see you as more than just a Malfoy crony.

You slap your hand against your chest just above your heart; stumbling backwards as if she just shot an arrow straight through. "Oh, how you wound me, Miss Granger. Care to share how well you did? One hundred percent?" She wouldn't have done badly at least not by everyone else's standard of bad. "Ninety maybe?" You turn back to them, coming to halt directly in front of the girl. "Merlin's beard Hermione, don't tell me you got less than eighty? That would be a travesty."

"if you don't mind, we're a little busy." She hadn't answered the question and as she walked around you, you expected she wasn't going to. "Come along Harry," she took his hand. "Ronald." And his before marching away. You watch them as they go, a smirk lingering before slipping off in search of your friends.

Come Friday afternoon and you found yourself in the great hall. The busy castle was beginning to calm and few people sat in the tables alongside the two of you. You take a sip of some water as you watch the gears in her head turn, debated her next move. At this point you already knew you would win; you always did. While everything else was more of a competition; Hermione Granger surprisingly wasn't all too hard to beat at Wizard's chess. Your Fridays together we're brilliant times to chat though, you'd often sum up any achievements from the week just to see who's doing better.

"I can't believe you beat me in history of magic again- I spent hours on that stupid essay. I basically lived in the library."

"I can help you study if you like," she offered, her eyes not leaving the board as she ordered her bishop forward. You watch as the chess piece moves along the board.

"You're not funny Granger," you tease, ordering your knight forward to take down her bishop. "Check,"

A paper ball hit the back of your head, drawing your attention away. Pansy stood with a wide grin on display, you ignored her and returned to your game but Hermione was also focused on your friend. "I think she wants your attention."

Another paper ball collides against your head. You sigh loudly before turning and mouthing 'what?'

"We're going down to the black lake? You coming?" She asked. "Or are you too busy with the Gryffindor?"

"just give me a sec." You wave her away, turning back to the other girl. "Have you moved?" She nods a little, her hair bouncing with the movements. You examine the board trying to figure out who she had moved but it didn't really matter. With a final move of your queen, the king was knocked off the board. "I do believe that is checkmate."

"I'm beginning to think you're cheating."

"Me?" You ask, pretending to be offended by the notion. "Never. How little faith you have me in, Granger."

"Slytherins are known for being cunning."

"We're not all cheating monsters, my dear sweet Gryffindor. Some of us actually have a conscience."

"I find that hard to believe," Her lips were curled into a cheeky smile. You'd never quite noticed the way her eyes crinkle when her smile is so big or how teethy it was. It was adorable. 

"I gotta go- same time next week? Maybe I'll even let you win."

"I don't need you to let me win,"

"You sure?" Nothing more than a harmless joke as you stand. "How many times in a row have I won now?"

"Slither away," Hermione smiles as you back away towards Pansy. You had to admit, you did firm Hermione to be intriguing.

Being in the same year, meant you actually saw Hermione rather frequently, however, your actual interactions were limited. Yes, you played Wizard's chess together every Friday but other than that, you basically only had very short conversations. It was like being in two completely different worlds simply because you were put in different houses. This school had a weird obsession with separation by houses. You were a proud Slytherin as were you friends but your ambition to branch out was often looked at as beneath some of the others. It was dinner time and you sat at the Slytherin table but your focus was pulled towards a certain familiar Gryffindor student. She just happened to be sat in your eye line, so you couldn't help but amuse her from afar. With funny faces and playful winks. Her most common reactions were shakes of the head or rolling her eyes but you knew secretly she enjoyed the teasing.

"Are you even listening?" A sharp elbow slams into your side. You bite back a groan as you shove the boy gently.

"The hell Draco,"

"What are you staring at?" There was a particularly bite behind his words but you'd grown used to how aggressive he could come across. He was always trying to be the alpha and frankly, everyone let him be. You simply shrug at his question; grabbing an apple and taking a bite.

"What did you want?"

The grey of his eyes flickers in curiosity as he tries to figure out what had you so distracted. When you look across at Granger, she's chatting to Ginny Weasley about something.

"Sometimes I wonder if the sorting hat got it wrong with you," He muses. "Should have put you in Gryffindor since you're so obsessed with Potter."

"Says the boy who never shuts up about him." You fight back. You couldn't care less about Harry Potter or his chosen one status. You knew Malfoy hated him though; it was a little weird just how much.

"You gravely misunderstand my interest in potter."

"I don't care if you have a crush on him Malfoy," There are a few snickers around the table but he's definitely not laughing.

"Don't be ridiculous." He growled, leaving the table. It was only a joke. You follow after him along with the others.

After dinner, you're lounging in the common room. One leg hooked over the arm of the couch as you read a book all about dragons. Fascinating creatures.

"So are you and the Gryffindor friends?"

"Who?" You question. Not even looking at the blonde as he sits down beside you.

"Granger." He confirms. "Pansy thinks you have a crush or something?"

"Pansy is a liar." The joke isn't as funny when it's against you. Your feelings towards Granger was nobody else's business but your own. You were often left conflicted when it came to her. You roll your eyes, sitting up straight. "I just like proving that I'm better than her."

"You spend a lot of time with her," Goyle adds.

"So?" You finally lower your book. Your brows knitted together in a clear frown as you scan the room. A few people had invited themselves into the conversation. "I spend a lot of time with you but doesn't mean I wanna get into your pants,"

"I don't know why you associate with any of them." This was beginning to feel like a lecture. Why do they even care who you hang out with? You didn't care much for the boys but you liked Hermione. She was kind, funny and really smart. You enjoyed the little time you ultimately spent together but if you admitted that, they would crucify you.

"They'd probably say the same about you lot," you state. Bringing the large book back up to cover your face. "Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to read here,"

"You can tell us if you like her," Pansy contributes. "I mean we all know you have a soft spot for the weak."

"Are you taking pity on her?"

"Maybe she wants to start hanging out with Potter. Can you imagine?"

You grit your teeth, not at all reading the words on the page in front of you. They're just trying to get a rise out of you.

"I can't imagine anything more pathetic," Malfoy chuckles followed by a few of the others. "They're an embarrassment to the wizarding world if you ask me. Parading around like they own the place-"

"We're nothing okay?" You slap your book shut. "Not friends or secret lovers or anything, I would never date someone so.... dirty." The word slipped out before you had a chance to stop. You didn't see her that way; she was much too grand to be considered dirty. And you couldn't care less about pure bloodlines. It didn't make her any less of a fantastic witch. "I'm not joining Potter's Merry band of monkeys, so just drop it okay." Ignoring the snickers and hushed whispers, you march off to bed.

It's the Friday following your little session in the common room. You forgave them all of course; you always did. There was no point in being angry at them over some harmless teasing. You had the chessboard set up and even brought along a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans but she was running late. Normally it was you showing up late; very unusual behaviour from someone known for punctuality. But as time ticked on and you were still left alone, you began to realise she wasn't going to turn up. Packing everything up, you decide it'll be best to search for her; something bad must have happened for her to not show at all.

"Weasley," you shout, jogging up to Harry and Ron who seemed to be missing their third arm. "You seen granger?"

"Why?" Asks the redhead. Harry presents you with a smile.

"None of your business," you spit at Ron. "Have you seen her or not?"

"Last we saw her she said she was heading to the library," Harry answered. You offer a grateful smile but you can't help but wonder why she's decided to head to the library. Was there a test you didn't know about? Was she trying to get the upper hand? Surely she could have just told you that instead of having you wait.

"Thanks, Harry," You skip along to the library but the journey proves pointless when you discover she isn't there either. You would be lying if you said you had searched particularly hard before giving up though. There was always next week. With a defeated sigh, you head back towards the common room. Luck must have been on your side because you spot her on the way back. Perched on a ledge with her head in a book. Typical Hermione Granger.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," you announce as you walk towards her. "I thought we were gonna play wizards chess so I could annihilate you again." The faintest sniffle hit your ears and you froze. Was she... crying? Shit. You don't do well with criers; you never know how to handle situations when people cry. It's always so... awkward. "What's wrong?"

"Go away." Her voice is quiet but echoes through the empty corridor.

"Granger?" You closer to her now, leaning against one of the stone columns.

"I said go away," Her words are harsh; she shoves her face further into the book. Was she trying to hide the fact she had been crying? It was pretty obvious at this point.

"What's up with you?" You wonder, folding your arms over your chest.

"I don't want to talk to you,"

"What did I do?" The confusion is very clear in your voice. You'd hardly even spoken to the girl recently so how could you have possibly upset her.

"You're as bad as the rest of them, now leave me alone," Sharp words as she grabbed her things and stormed off. As bad as the rest of them? What did that even mean? Pushing yourself upright, you follow after her.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Just some filthy mudblood am I?" Venomous words spat at you with the speed of a viper. You stumble back a little; she's never been so angry with you. Tears spill down her rosy cheeks."Malfoy told me what you said- Guess I should have known better considering your so-called friends. You're just as cruel as the rest of them."

"Hermione..." you sigh softly. You couldn't exactly defend your fellow Slytherin friends. "Why do you believe him anyway?"

"So you didn't say it then."

"No, I did," you shrug a little. "Well I said you were dirty, I didn't say... that word."

"Mudblood- Same thing though right? You think you're so much better just because you're of Pure blood."

"I didn't say that, I-"

"Just stay away from me." Her tone has you backing down from the fight. You consider following her as she charges off down the hall but instead, you go back to the dorms.

"You're a right git," you exclaim, storming into the room, grip tight on the book you launch at his head. Platinum blonde hair darts of the way.

"What the hell."

"You told her?" All eyes are on you as you confront him.

"What are you on about?"

"Hermione- you told her I thought she was dirty."

"Your words, not mine." Draco shrugged a little. A huff of a laugh passing his lips which pissed you off even more. 

"I-," you look around, picking up a pillow and tossing it at him. "You are such a pain in the ass."

"Why do you care about that filthy mudblood, you said you don't even like her?"

"I don't even like you and yet we're best friends," You shout, looking at the coffee table you grab a mug and aim at the boy. Draco's hand shoots up in defense.

"Don't you dare throw that at me or I swear-" He fought back. You lower your hand and so does he then you throw it anyway, hearing it break as you collapse on the couch. "You don't need someone like that." He muses as he cautiously approaches the couch.

"We can't all be insufferable snobs Malfoy," you grumble, rather casually considering what just happened. "You mess up everything for no bloody reason"

"Probably shouldn't go around calling her dirty then," He argues. "I didn't make you say that..."

The boy hovers over the back of the couch and you shove him away. "I hate you."

You realise you have to be the one because Malfoy's not about to admit he did anything wrong. And you know at the end of the day it was your fault for saying it in the first place. You retire to your bed, no longer watching to deal with other people.

For the next week or so Hermione avoids you like the plague. You'd obviously see her in some of your classes but when you'd try to speak to her after, she'd rush out before you had a chance to so much as saying hi. If you managed to catch her gaze, she'd stare daggers; if looks could kill you'd be six feet under by now. You'd sometimes find her in the library, it was the one place she could cause a scene but neither could you. When you tried to whisper to her, she'd completely ignore you. You were beginning to miss the limited interaction you hard; Half the fun of studying was ultimately doing better than her in the end.

The girl was alone today, searching the shelves. The library was fairly empty and it was getting late. You take the opportunity to make some paper birds and send them fluttering over to her. One by one until she whispers yells at you to stop. You chuckle. Doing it again. This develops into a habit throughout the next couple of days. You'll send paper birds her way, just to get a reacting out of her. You start writing little messages on them too but you don't think she ever reads them before setting them on fire.

It becomes abundantly clear she's not giving in and therefore one day during breakfast you abandon your table and enter what Malfoy would consider enemy territory. Pushing Neville aside to sit next to Hermione. A bunch of lions look to you like you'd just entered their den without permission; in their defense, you never sit here. Hermione gets up to leave but not before you can grab her wrist.

"Can you please stop ignoring me," she yanks out of your grip, walking away to leave you surrounded by kids you've only ever spoken to in passing. You groan loudly.

"What happened between you two?" Ron asked.

"Do you ever keep out of other people's business Weasley or do you have some obsessive need to weasel your way into everything."

"Just tryna help, jeez."

"If you must know, Malfoy told her that I referred to her as a... y'know."

"Mudblood?" Harry continues for you.

"I called her dirty but I didn't mean it."

"Thought you weren't friends anyway," Ron wore a smirk like he caught you out or something so you just ignore him.

"Now she's ignoring me. I just want her to talk to me."

"Have you apologised?"

"How can I apologise if she won't bloody talk to me, Harry? I thought you were supposed to be smart." You comment, dropping your head against the table. "I've tried writing notes but she burns all of them. I'm running out of ideas, I can only be so charming."

"Can't really help you there," Ron replies.

"All the boys in this school are so bloody useless," you sigh dramatically, slamming your hands on the table to push yourself up. "You’re her best friends and you can't help? Pathetic."

You debate joining the others but you decide against it and leave the great hall. You're not hungry anymore.

"You really should stop sending paper birds," The voice catches you off guard, whipping your wand out before realising it's her.

"I'll stop if you talk to me again," You counter, lowering your wand.

"I'm not ashamed of my parents."

"And you shouldn't be." Your head falls, "I really am sorry for what I said, it was definitely a peer pressure thing and I was stupid." You blurt out. "Malfoy can just be a lot sometimes and I was trying to study so... I don't think you're less than just because your parents are muggles Hermione. Not even a little." You take a deep breath. "I just want my friend back."

She hesitates. "Oh, so we're friends now huh?"

"Only if you want to be," You shrug. There was part of you that wanted to say maybe you like her as more than that but you kept it to yourself; at least for now. "I understand if you don't like... I was really shitty."

"So Friday then?"

"What?"

"Wizards chess? I think I may be able to beat you now, I've been practising."

"Pfft not likely," You tease, your smile growing. "Friday sounds good."

// NEXT

[echo-bleu]

To Fall, There Is Death

This work was created for the @rnmbb Roswell New Mexico Big Bang 2020 event.

The amazing @slynella/Slynella was my partner for this event and created three absolutely wonderful illustrations for this story! The artworks are incredible and I love them to pieces, thank you so much Sly 💙

Huge thanks also to @eveningspirit for helping me build the plot of this and handholding through the writing. This fic was hard to write, both because I got lost more than once in the narrative and because I basically left the fandom when I was less than halfway done. But, here it is.

This fic is loosely based on both Dumas' The Three Musketeers and BBC Musketeers, and borrows some plot elements (and a few lines) from the latter, but there is no historical accuracy whatsoever and it is set in the fictional kingdom of Antar. The title comes from “Quo ruit et lethum” which is the actual motto of the Musketeers: To Fall, There Is Death. The header of each part is a chess move or a chess opening, usually with some relation to what happens in the part (and a few where I just liked the name :D).

[apparent deaths by shooting and hanging, mentions of war and injuries, canonical levels of violence, past abuse]

Read on AO3 (13k).

The day Alex died was the beginning of the end.

Liz would be hard pressed to tell when it had all started, when the pieces had first been put in motion. So much had happened to lead them there, one step away from checkmate, one step away from the end of the game.

Maybe it had started six months ago, when the King died. She remembered the funeral ceremony that gathered all of the court and so much of the city, Max and Isobel’s regal and solemn faces. Max had worn white, and knelt to receive the crown on his head. “The King is dead,” they’d chanted. “Long live the King!”

But things had been moving even before that. Maybe it had started a year ago, when Lord Michael first came to the court and challenged Alex to a duel. Alex had been injured already, barely able to stand on his feet. Liz remembered the absolute shock on his face, when Michael had pushed back his hood and revealed himself, after the King introduced him as his natural son.

Alex had lost the duel. He’d stood there afterwards, dazed and devastated, unable to take his eyes off Michael for one second, like he’d expected him to disappear again. He’d spent most of the next three weeks drinking himself to the ground every evening, just to dull the pain that never left his eyes.

So maybe the pieces had already found their place ten years ago, in that time Alex only ever hinted at, when he and Michael were engaged to be married. He’d never told Liz and Maria the story. “There was a man, once,” he’d said. “He died.” Kyle had probably known more, after all he was Alex’s friend when they were children, but he never said. In all the years they’d known Alex, though, there were always these shadows in his eyes, that spoke of a dreadful weight, a longing and a guilt that never left him.

*

Bishop Takes Knight

Now

The Musketeers on duty stood in line for muster, as Alex limped down the ranks and inspected their gear. Musketeers had to be dressed perfectly in every circumstance, boots shiny and blue cape draped over their shoulders, because they could be called to attend the King and the royal family at any moment. Liz was with Maria at the very end of the line, Alex’s seconds-in-command, his most trusted people. Kyle wasn’t there, because a patrol had come back injured from a skirmish with the Red Guard the night before and the surgeon hadn’t slept all night, getting a bullet out of a Musketeer’s shoulder.

Alex handed out orders for the day and dismissed his Musketeers. Liz and Maria joined him in the armory, since they were to be on duty at the Palace that day, and together they selected loaded muskets and their trusted swords.

There was nothing to indicate how horrendous things were about to get, except maybe for the slight trembling in Alex’s hands as he fit his scabbard on his belt, or the way Liz and Maria squeezed his shoulder a little tighter than usual before going to ready their horses.

They barely had time to step out of the garrison, leading their horses out of the large wooden gate, before everything went to hell.

“Musketeers!” a voice rung out, harsh and unforgiving.

Alex froze in his steps, recognizing the figure in red before any of them. There were half a dozen Red Guards scattered around the square, unmoving, watching them, and in the middle, Lord Michael, in full leather armor under his red cape. He had several pistols on his belt, and one held loosely in his hand.

“Manes,” he added with venom in his voice. “Still standing, I see. Still the Captain.”

“Michael,” Alex answered, his voice smaller and shakier than Liz had ever heard it in public. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to finally do what I’ve been waiting for for ten years,” Michael spit out. “I’m here to kill you.”

Liz fully expected Alex to take a fighting stance, bring out his pistol and defend himself, but he sagged instead, looking defeated. What had become of her friend, the war hero who went up the ranks so fast he became the youngest Captain ever? Where had Alex Manes, the fearless soldier, best swordsman in the Kingdom, gone?

She’d seen the change, of course. The last year hadn’t been easy on Alex. Ever since Michael first came to the court, he’d been different. There was a spring in his steps, at first, just knowing that Michael was alive, but with the months passing, with Michael showing his loyalty to Jesse Manes at every turn and his hatred of Alex, it had grown into a weight, a ball and chain he dragged everywhere with him.

Liz hadn’t realized that it had gotten that bad. Alex wasn’t defensive, he was resigned. It was almost like he wanted Michael to kill him. Like he felt that he deserved it.

He gave Maria the reins of his horse, and turned back to Michael, facing him.

“We can still work this out,” he said, his voice low and sad. “There are other ways, Michael. You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I believe I do,” Michael snarled, still speaking loudly so that everyone in the square could hear him. “You had me hanged, Alex. On the day we should have been wedded.”

Alex looked stricken. “I didn’t–”

“I was in your bed, for months. I know who you are, deep inside. Definitely not a morally uptight Musketeer. You disgust me.”

“We can settle this like gentlemen,” Alex said, hand going for his sword. “Last time I was injured, but we can duel again. The King isn’t there to stop us from dueling to the death this time. You can have your reparation.”

Michael waved his pistol around. “Damn the rules!”

“Michael!” Liz cried out. This was too much. If Alex wasn’t going to defend himself, then she would. “The King will never forgive you if you do this.”

“The King is my brother,” Michael spit. “He’ll choose me over one Musketeer. Especially one who’s been a thorn in everyone’s side for so long.”

Liz closed her eyes. She wanted to believe that it wasn’t true, that Max truly respected Alex and wouldn’t stand for this, but how well did she really know the King? Just because he liked her, because he always asked her to be his guard and they’d had a few moments together, didn’t mean she knew what he was thinking. This was a matter of politics, the King and the Prime Minister, the Musketeers and the Red Guard. It would never be a simple question of friendships and personal preference.

When she opened her eyes again, Michael had his pistol trained on Alex.

“Michael,” Alex murmured. “Please. I never wanted this. I loved you.” He had tears running down his cheeks.

Michael’s jaw was set, but he twitched at the words.

“You never loved me,” he snarled. “I was just a toy to you, that you discarded at the first occasion. How was it like, Alex, to see me hang at the end of a rope? How did it feel?”

Alex let out a sob. Michael locked eyes with him.

It all happened fast. Michael aimed his pistol just as Alex looked away, devastated. The shot rang out like a death sentence, echoing across the square.

“Alex!” Liz screamed, as her friend collapsed. She ran to Alex’s side, all thoughts of safety be damned. He was lying on his side, unmoving.

“Lord Michael!” someone cried. The Red Guards around the square started moving, rallying around Michael as the Musketeers took out their guns. But there wasn’t going to be an all-out battle, not today, not like this. Michael looked at them disdainfully and turned away, taking his men with him.

“Kyle! Kyle, come here right now!” Maria yelled toward the open gate of the garrison, joining Liz at Alex’s side.

But Jenna Cameron was already moving Alex, checking his pulse. “It's too late,” she said. “He's gone.”

Liz stayed frozen for a second, incapable of believing it. She looked between Alex’s still form and Michael, now retreating from the square without even a look behind him.

“Come back, you coward!” Liz screamed at the top of her lungs. She launched toward him, but Maria caught her across the waist and held her back, sobbing.

Michael’s steps halted for a brief moment, but he didn’t turn. He kept walking away until he disappeared down a side street.

Liz collapsed against Maria, and they both fell to their knees crying, cradling Alex’s lifeless body.

*

King’s Gambit

A year ago

Liz winced as Alex hit the floor hard, head first, grunting in pain. The whole court cheered, but watching it brought her no joy, no excitement. Alex was the best swordsman in the whole Kingdom, he should have easily won against a fresh-faced arrogant Lord, bastard of the King or not. But the asshole was good, and he’s provoked Alex when he was already injured, just a week out of being stabbed grievously enough that his left arm was of no use. Liz seethed in anger as he sneered at Alex from above.

“Come on, you’ve got to surrender,” she murmured under her breath. She hoped her friend would have the common sense to understand that his health was worth more than winning this ridiculous duel, even if he felt the heavy gaze of his father, the Prime Minister, on him.

Maria, beside her, was holding her breath just as much. She knew how much Alex’s abused body could handle, and this was already too much. They sighed in unison as Alex rose to his feet once again, stumbling on his boot-covered wooden leg before dropping into a fighting stance. Lord Michael goaded him openly, exchanging a few parried blow before he plunged under Alex’s guard and elbowed him hard in the temple. Alex crumpled to the floor.

Liz was almost relieved that Alex didn’t rise again, until she realized that he’d passed out. Maria rushed to his side, taking his pulse, and Liz only started breathing again when she looked up and nodded.

“Goddammit, Alex,” she whispered. Cameron squeezed her shoulder from behind.

They both sighed in relief when Alex made it back to his feet with Maria’s help, and knelt in front of the King.

“You fought well, Captain,” the King said. “But my son is an excellent swordsman, and you are obviously injured. Do you accept your defeat?”

“I do,” Alex answered through gritted teeth.

“Very well. Then I declare Michael, count of Dimaras, the winner of this duel. Michael, will that satisfy your call for justice?”

“It will for now, my King,” Michael answered, kneeling beside Alex. “The rest of my claims will be settled another day.”

Liz stared at him, wondering exactly what he had against Alex. She’d never seen him before, so it was obviously something from Alex’s past, from the time he never spoke about. Alex had that look on his face that she’d only seen on his worst days, the ones where he drowned himself in wine, or trained until he collapsed in exhaustion.

There was a story there, and it wasn’t a happy one.

It took several days for it to come out. Alex spent them in the worst mood, spending his days in the armory despite his injuries, hacking at straw mannequins until he couldn’t feel his arm anymore. His friends didn’t push him. Liz and Maria recounted the duel to Kyle in detail, of course, but they didn’t try to force the story out.

They knew their friend. Words didn’t come easily to Alex even on the best of days, but now between his concussion and his exhaustion, he could barely string together a sentence. He seemed to be in shock.

When he was finally ready, one night at the tavern, after almost a full bottle of wine, the words came out stumbling over themselves. It was disjointed, slurred, barely intelligible, but Liz understood enough. There was a boy, once. Lord Michael, before he was the King’s bastard, when he was just a street orphan. He and Alex had fallen in love and gotten engaged. Alex’s father had disapproved, and made it clear, but they were going to elope.

And one day, Jesse Manes had found them in the gardener’s shed, and he’d glimpsed the fleur de lys branded on Michael’s shoulder, marking him a thief and a convict. Alex hadn’t cared, he’d trusted Michael, but it gave Jesse the opportunity he’d been waiting for to destroy them.

He’d attacked Michael with a hammer, and then, by the authority granted to him as the lord of his lands, he had sentenced him to death. Alex had been powerless. The last thing Michael had seen before the rope suffocated him was Alex’s tears.

Except that somehow, Michael was alive. And he held Alex responsible for what had happened to him. His knight in shining armor, the one Alex had thought would steal him away from his monster of a father, had become the black bishop of Jesse Manes’ game, intent on taking his revenge against Alex.

“Ten years learning how to live in a world without him,” Alex sobbed into his bottle when he finished. “What do I do now?”

Liz didn’t have an answer. She hugged him tight until he fell asleep.

*

Endgame

Now

On the day of Alex’s funeral, the sun shone high and hot in the sky and it felt like it was the universe’s way of laughing at them. Liz got up early to clean her leathers and polish her boots until they shone brighter than they should have been able to, given how worn they were. She checked her uniform meticulously, taking particular care of the fleur de lys engraved pauldron that marked her commission and the expensive rapier Alex had gifted her years ago. Squaring her shoulders for the hard day ahead, she walked down the ranks of solemn Musketeers, adjusting blue capes and leather doublets as she gave out orders. Alex deserved them at their best, and she was going to make sure that they were.

The service was beautiful and heartbreaking. Commander Valenti gave the eulogy and all the Musketeers stood at attention under the heat as the casket was lowered into the ground. Alex had been a well-respected and beloved Captain, who’d always taken care of his men.

Liz felt a pang when she saw Gregory Manes, freshly returned from the war on their border, shed a tear as he threw a rose on the casket. He was the only one of Alex’s brothers that she liked, the only one who supported him. Jesse Manes stood, impassible, as people came to offer their condolences. He never even twitched a muscle, and Liz hated him for it.

She kept observing him throughout. This was the man who had had his own son killed. They all knew whose orders Michael had acted on, even if he’d pretended to do it out of revenge. Liz, whose own father was an immigrant tavern owner who’d done everything for his daughters, couldn’t understand how a man like Jesse Manes could even exist. He hadn’t hesitated to have Alex murdered because Alex threatened his position as the Prime Minister.

And now he stood there and didn’t even have the decency to show some grief. He was dressed in the black of mourning, but he looked at people with the same disdain, the same arrogance as he always did.

This was a man who thought himself untouchable.

Liz was going to prove that he wasn’t. They were moving toward the last stretch of the game, and even with Alex gone, she would make sure Jesse Manes didn’t win. She patted the stack of letters tucked into her leather doublet. One way or another, Alex would be avenged.

*

Zwischenzug

Three months ago

“Alex!” Maria exclaimed as Alex joined them at the long mess table in the garrison’s courtyard. Kyle moved to give Alex space to sit down on the bench, while Liz grabbed a bowl of soup for him. “Where were you? We looked for you everywhere!”

“Did Commander Valenti ask after me?” Alex asked, dropping onto the bench.

It wasn’t the first time, in the last few months, that he’d disappeared on them like this. He had done that before, but usually they found him passed out somewhere in a tavern, or occasionally curled up in bed in his room, in too much pain to move. But recently, it had changed. He rarely drank too much anymore, and wherever he went every few days, he came back looking rested and content. It wasn’t common when it came to Alex, so his friends hadn’t pushed him to reveal his whereabouts. That day, though, he seemed on edge.

“No, we just thought we might hit the tavern,” Liz answered. “Dad is making rice pudding tonight.”

“I have something to tell you first,” Alex said, lowering his voice. They all leaned in to listen. “I just came from the Palace. You’ve all heard that Princess Isobel is pregnant?”

They nodded. It was the talk of the month everywhere in the city. Princess Isobel was King Max’s twin sister, and since the death of the old King four months ago, the next in line for the throne. King Max had yet to marry, even though he was already twenty-eight, so Princess Isobel and Prince Noah’s child would be the first Prince or Princess of the new generation.

“You remember how I told you that my father will try to regain more power?”

Liz nodded. “He had the old King’s ear, but Max hates him. He’s been talking about appointing a new Prime Minister.”

“My father won’t stand for it,” Alex said. “He will move against Max soon. He knows Max won’t let him keep his position for long.”

“But what can he do?” Maria asked.

Alex’s eyes turned stormy. “He’s ruthless. He plays the long game, and he’ll stop at nothing to get even a scrap of power. My source says that Prince Noah is his henchman, he’s the one who convinced the old King to arrange this marriage. He wants to get Isobel on the throne.”

Liz widened her eyes in shock. “By killing Max?”

Alex just nodded.

“But Isobel hates him just as much as Max does,” Maria said. “It wouldn’t change anything, would it?”

Alex bit his lip. “It looks like he has some kind of leverage on her. With that and Noah’s influence, he could get her to do what he wants. And–” he hesitated.

“What?” Kyle pressed him.

“Now that Isobel’s pregnant, he could also eliminate her as soon as she gives birth,” Alex sighed. “If he played his cards right, he’d be named Regent.”

Liz swore under her breath. This was bad, worse than she could have imagined. “How do you know all that?” she asked.

“I’m getting...inside information,” Alex answered. “That’s all I can tell you, I can’t put my source’s life at risk. But we have to stop my father.”

“But how?”

Alex ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “I don’t know yet. But I will figure it out. In the meantime, we’ll double up all our guard duties for both Max and Isobel. We won’t let them get hurt.”

*

Castling

A month ago

The convent was easy to defend, its thick outer walls ready to weather a siege, but the inside was cold and sparsely furnished. The weather was just starting to warm up, spring giving way to summer, but Liz shivered as she stared at the lime-washed walls, her linen shirt too thin to keep out the chill.

“I can't believe you slept with the King!” Alex exclaimed, throwing his hands up. He was pacing back and forth in the corridor outside the Mother Superior’s private chambers, which had been ceded to the King for the night. They’d arrived at the remote convent the night before, under fire from a host of unidentified mercenaries, intent on killing the King.

“Alex, not so loud,” Liz whispered back. She wrung her hands together, nervous. “It was special circumstances, okay? He was scared and someone was trying to kill him. He just needed some reassurance.”

“And you had to sleep with him?” Alex lowered his voice. “After what happened to Rosa? Liz, did he force you?”

“No, of course not!” Liz clasped a hand over Alex's mouth, worriedly looking at the door behind which King Max was asleep. “He didn't force me. He didn't even ask me, I offered.”

“I don't understand,” Alex said. “We're here to protect him. We spent the whole day yesterday under heavy fire because someone is after him. And he's the King, Liz!”

“I know.” Liz looked away. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. Max had looked so down, so alone, she’d just wanted to offer comfort. The sex had been a spur of the moment thing, and although she was convinced neither of them had really forgotten why it was wrong, they hadn’t cared. Max might be the King, but he was a human being just like any of them, with his own fears and desires, and Liz had felt close to him ever since he started requesting her as his personal guard more often.

“Oh my God, you're in love with him,” Alex realized. “Fuck. That's a development I didn't expect.”

“I'm not in love with him!” Liz protested, but her voice wavered. She could see in Alex’s eyes that he was far from convinced.

She was about to argue more when she saw a nun approach from the corner of her eyes.

“News?” Alex asked.

The nun, a young, fresh-faced woman who seemed nervous and shy under her black veil, pointed toward the convent’s courtyard. “Your friends are back.”

“Good. We'll be with them in a minute,” Alex said. “We'll talk again later,” he added to Liz.

“Alex?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Yes?”

“Can we keep this quiet for now?”

Alex sighed. “Of course. The King sleeping with a commoner, be it a Musketeer, is not something we want to shout from the rooftops, anyway. Is this about Kyle?”

Liz shrugged. She and Kyle had found comfort in each other, back when they first became Musketeers. Liz had never been in love, and she liked Kyle more as her friend than whatever they had been back then, but she knew he still felt something for her that wasn’t just friendship. She didn’t want to hurt him, and knowing that she’d slept with the King, of all people, surely would.

“Fine,” Alex grumbled. “Let's go.”

He had sent Maria and Kyle with most of the Musketeer team that had traveled with them to pursue their assailants yesterday, after they had managed to make them flee. Liz was relieved that there hadn’t been a single casualty on their side, whether Musketeer or civilian. They had done their best to protect both the nuns and the King, but if it had come to it, the King would have had to be Alex’s priority, and Liz knew he would forgive himself for putting nuns in the line of fire, however willing they had been.

Their friends looked tired and dirty, but not injured. “Did you catch them?” Alex asked.

“No,” Kyle shook his head. “We almost got one, but they disappeared. Only thing we found is one of their horses.” He gestured behind him to one of the Musketeers, who lead a horse over.

“Any identifying marks?” Alex asked.

“Only this,” Maria said. She pointed to the embroidery on one of the saddlebags. Five dots, joined by a thread, making a lopsided W, in yellow thread on the dark leather.

Alex took in a shocked breath.

“What is it? Do you recognize it?”

“That's Cassiopeia,” Alex said. “That's Michael's symbol. His men are the ones who attacked us.”

He brought a hand to his throat, cupping the ever-present gold medallion and ring he wore on a chain. Liz had never asked what they were, but since Alex had told them his story, she’d assumed it was his engagement ring, and maybe a portrait of Michael. She’d seen him do this very gesture many times over the past few months, nearly any time Michael’s presence at court came up, but rarely with such anguish on his face.

“This was in the saddlebag,” Maria said, handing over a stack of what looked like letters, tied with a brown cord. Alex took them with a frown. “Nothing else?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

He nodded tightly, and ran a hand over the embroidered constellation. “I should have known my father would send you,” he muttered. “He knows where to place his pieces. What have you done, Michael? What are we going to do?”

*

Giuco Piano

Ten years ago

They were seventeen, and in love. The sky was full of stars above them, on a warm summer night. Alex and Michael were lying in the grass at the very edge of the Manes estate, behind the gardener’s shed. The gardener, for whom Michael worked during the day, had long retired in his  house further up on the hill, and Michael had brought out the blankets he used to sleep on a straw bed in the shed.

Alex spun the thin golden ring on his finger. Michael had given it to him earlier that day, going down on one knee, a plan already formed for them to get married and escape the Manes estate and its bigotry by the end of the summer. He had made the ring himself, during the shifts he picked up at the village smithy. He’d even plated it with gold he’d saved up from the jewelry people asked him to repair.

Michael was good with his hands. He was good with everything, really. He was smart and quick-witted, and he knew the name of every plant in the estate’s garden. He’d taught himself to read and write, and he spent his night poring over thick tomes Alex snuck out of his father’s library for him.

It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t allowed to make use of all of this knowledge, just because he’d been born a commoner. An orphan. He’d told Alex about all he’d had to do just to survive, unable to even get an apprenticeship because he had no parents to sign a contract. The years of labor, from an age too young to remember. The abusive employers, the orphanages, the streets.

The jail he’d ended up in, and escaped from. Alex knew what the mark branded on his shoulder meant. It meant that Michael had been convicted and thrown in prison, at fourteen, for stealing food from the market. It meant that even if Alex’s father had been willing to let him marry a man, and a commoner to boot, it would never, ever be a criminal like Michael.

That was okay, because Alex had no intention of asking him. In a few days, he’d turn eighteen, and they would run away together.

Right now, they could enjoy a summer evening together under the stars, far away from prying eyes.

“This is Ursa Major,” Michael pointed at the sky. “It looks a bit like a frying pan. Then Ursa Minor. The brightest star is called Polaris, it's the brightest of all stars. Then Draco, the dragon, goes around it, see? A curve here, and then back. My favorite, though, is Cassiopeia.”

“Where is it?” Alex asked.

“There,” Michael pointed a little to the left. “It has five major stars. Like a W, see?”

“I think so,” Alex murmured. “Yes, got it.”

He turned to press a kiss on Michael's cheek. “I like listening to you. Keep going.”

“Cassiopeia is the prettiest,” Michael said. “It was named after a queen who thought she was the most beautiful person in the world, more even than the nymphs. She angered a god, Poseidon, and he set a sea monster on her kingdom. She had to sacrifice her daughter to appease him.”

“Ugh,” Alex made a face. “That's not a nice story.”

Michael shrugged. “I like it, I think. The daughter was saved by a hero and married him. Sometimes I wonder what my mom sacrificed me for. Maybe she's safe and happy somewhere out there.”

Alex squeezed his hand. “Yeah. I wonder that too,” he murmured. “My father would happily sacrifice any of his sons for the kingdom. Me especially. He wouldn't even blink.”

Michael sighed. “I wish that weren't true. We'll get out of here as soon as we're married, right? Then he can't touch us anymore.”

“We'll never truly be out of his reach,” Alex said. “He's the highest ranking officer in the kingdom already. He'll be Prime Minister soon.”

“Then we'll just have to go really far away,” Michael whispered.

Alex closed his eyes and let Michael kiss him, wishing that were possible.

*

Fork

Now

“It’s done,” Michael stated, throwing his pistol on Jesse Manes’ desk. It made a dull thud. Manes looked up and deigned giving Michael his attention. “He’s dead. I’m sure the word will reach your office soon.”

“Any clean-up needed?”

“No. Full daylight, as you specified. Dozens of witnesses can testify that I did it alone. You have nothing to worry about.”

Manes stares at him for a few seconds, then pushed the pistol away from his paperwork and put it aside. “Good,” he said, in clear dismissal.

Michael ignored the implicit order and dropped into a chair, pulling his feet up on the desk. Manes scowled.

“I thought I would feel something more than this...emptiness,” Michael muttered. “I loved him, once.”

“Are you sorry you killed him?” Manes asked him, annoyed.

“Regrets are pointless. Right now, I need help. His Musketeer friends won't let this go unpunished, and even my status will not be enough, not if they can reveal that I'm branded.”

“You're just as weak as Alex after all,” Manes sneered. “I thought you were different.”

“Weak? No. Just practical. I haven't forgotten that you're the one who gave the order to hang me, Minister. I have very few reasons to trust you.”

“You're right, you're not like Alex. Maybe I can still make something of you.”

“You can use me,” Michael offered. “Ortecho and DeLuca want revenge. They want me. Exchange me against the letters.”

“They have leverage. Why would they give it over?”

“It's become personal. Alex was the one who wanted you gone. The other Musketeers care about very little beside their wine and their petty quarrels with the Red Guards. You hand me over, they'll let the letters go.”

“What about you? Why would you even offer that?”

Michael shrugged. “I'll take my chances against them. I came to the city to kill Alex, and I have accomplished my mission. With the old King dead, I doubt Max will keep me in court much longer, and if he learns about my past, he won't take it well. My best bet is to disappear again.”

“So you think you can slip their watch and escape the city?”

“With Alex dead, I'm the best swordsman in the city. I can take two Musketeers.”

Manes shifted in his seat. “Very well. We'll offer the exchange.”

*

Bad Bishop

A year ago

“Careful,” Alex murmured, wincing in pain. He shifted his position until he was more comfortable on the bed, waiting until the ache in his shoulder subsided a little.

“Sorry,” Michael said sheepishly, untangling himself from Alex’s limbs. Propping himself up on his elbow, he trailed his fingers down Alex’s chest to his navel, tracing every scar.

It had been three days since the duel, since Michael had declared his feud with Alex in front of the court and then tended to his wounds and forgave him in the privacy of his chambers. Alex’s arm was still too sore to use, though he’d discarded the sling, and his concussion was just starting to clear up, so he was off duty for the time being, by Kyle’s order. Michael had found them a room in a small inn outside the city, known to be discreet, where they’d spent the night learning each other’s body all over again.

They’d changed, in ten years. Both of them had become different men, forged by hardships and age, but their love hadn’t altered. It was scarred by the wounds Jesse Manes had inflicted on it, just like their bodies, but it was just as strong.

Alex reached out with his good arm to touch Michael’s throat, which he was seeing bare for the first time. The deep rope burn there had become white with age, but it was impossible to miss without the high-collared uniform to hide it, a stark reminder of what their love had cost Michael.

Michael’s face fell, sadness replacing his prior playful smile. “It wasn’t you, Alex,” he said.

“I know,” Alex murmured. It didn’t make it hurt less. He’d blamed himself for ten years, for letting his father catch them and giving him an excuse to go after Michael, and he wasn’t going to stop now. He’d failed Michael in every way. He’d watched him hang, unable to save him from that fate.

He’d walked away, unable to stand the sight of his lover at the end of a rope, and that had somehow allowed Michael to escape.

“I love you,” Michael said. “What your father did isn’t your fault.”

Alex just sighed and let his hand fall back to the bed. Michael leaned in to kiss him, softly, and continued his exploration of Alex’s body with his left hand, the scarred, gnarled fingers brushing against his skin.

He reached past Alex’s waist and down his naked hip, to where his right leg ended just below the knee. Alex froze. His wooden leg was resting somewhere beside the bed, the stump naked and ugly, swollen from overuse. He hadn’t let Michael touch it yet, or even really look at it.

But Michael didn’t pause, didn’t recoil back in disgust. He kept touching Alex’s skin, his fingers light like a feather despite their obvious stiffness. Alex shivered as he slowly went over the scars, then back up the inside of his thigh.

“That alright?” Michael asked in a whisper, looking back up at him.

Alex nodded mutely.

“What’s this?” Michael asked, cupping the medallion that hung from Alex’s neck..

Alex blushed and hung his head. “Open it,” he murmured.

Michael’s breath hitched when he saw the tiny gold plaque inside the medallion, delicately engraved with the lopsided W of Cassiopeia.

“I had it made after you—” Alex cut himself off and swallowed, the words stuck in his throat. “I could never forget you, but I needed to remember what I was fighting for. It kept me going.”

Michael ran his thumb over the engraving, then around the clumsily made golden ring he’d once given Alex.

“When all this is over, I’ll make you a much better ring,” he said.

Alex smiled tightly. “I like this one. But we can get matching rings for our wedding, after all this is over.”

It felt weird to even dare think about such a future, after the one they’d dreamed of had been ripped away from them. It felt like tempting fate. But Alex wanted to daydream again, to stop living like he’d die tomorrow.

To stop wishing that he’d died ten years ago.

“How’s the plan going?” he asked, shaking those thoughts out of his head.

“I think he’s starting to believe me, after the duel. He knows I’m the one who stabbed you in the shoulder too. I’m still sorry about that, by the way.”

“You don’t need to say it every time we meet,” Alex snorted. “I know. I understand why it was necessary.”

Michael nodded. “We’ll need him to really trust me, though. He needs to think that I hate you enough to be willing to ally with him, and that’s not going to be easy.”

“My father isn’t an easy man to fool,” Alex contemplated. “Do you know how to play chess?”

“I’ve learned,” Michael said.

He hadn’t known, back when they were engaged. Alex remembered trying to teach him the basics, but they hadn’t had time for more. He hoped Michael’s game was solid, because they were going to need it. “My father is a master player. Beating him at his own game will be hard, but he taught me well.” Alex bit his lip. “He’d use his belt every time I lost. Which was every game, until I finally learned.”

Michael made a complicated face, full of anger and sadness but also impatience. “Then you’ll have to guide me,” he said with a playful smile. “I can be your pawn.”

“Nah,” Alex shook his head, smiling along. “You’re no pawn. You’re...a bishop, maybe. White bishop pretending to be black.”

“I like that,” Michael smirked.

“I’ll like it more when we’ve won the game,” Alex replied.

*

Queen’s Pawn Game

Four months ago

“Where are we going?”

“I think I’ve figured out the next part of our plan,” Michael said, dragging Alex by the hand. Alex checked that no one was likely to see them, but the place was empty for now. Princess Isobel’s private quarters were off-limits to everyone but her personal servants and, apparently, Michael.

“Michael,” he called, before Michael could take him any further. Alex stumbled a little on his wooden leg when Michael stopped brutally. “Tell me.”

“Okay,” Michael relented. “I’ve been looking for something to use against your father for months. I’ve finally found it. Something that can bring him down.”

“What is it?”

“I asked Isobel—”

“What?” Alex interrupted him in shock. “Do you know how dangerous that is? What makes you sure she won’t just throw us in jail for plotting against the Prime Minister?”

“Calm down, Alex,” Michael sighed. “I know what I’m doing. Isobel wants him gone as much as we do.”

Alex just shook his head, still in shock.

“She says she knows how to get proof that he abused my father’s confidence,” Michael said. “Look, at least heart her out. She’s my sister, she’ll never rat me out.”

“What about me?” Alex asked.

“She admires you. And she hates your father. She will help, I promise.”

“Fine,” Alex relented, though his misgivings weren’t alleviated much. He’d avoided telling even Liz, Maria and Kyle about his plan, by fear that it would somehow get back to his father’s ears. And Michael went straight to the Princess? There was no way this was going to end well.

Isobel was waiting for them in her sitting room, regally sitting on a richly-decorated armchair. She was wearing a blue satin dress with a complex embroidery along her corset and a mounting collar, with matching sapphire necklace and earrings. Her hair was pulled up with pins and braided at the top of her head.

“Captain. Michael,” she welcomed them. “Please sit.”

Alex bowed and obeyed. “Your Highness.”

Isobel didn’t beat around the bush. “Michael told me you’re looking for proof of your father’s misdeeds.”

“I’m—” Alex fumbled, looking for a way to answer that wouldn’t risk implicating him or Michael.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you for details,” Isobel brushed it away with a sweep of her hand. “I believe I know where to find what you need. There are letters. He will not have destroyed them, because they serve as his insurance policy.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked. “Your Highness,” he added as an afterthought.

“You can drop the address when we are in private,” Isobel said dismissively. “The letters are between him and respected members of the court. They detail a plot fomented to overthrow the old King, years ago. It failed, because some of the plotters opted out at the last moment, but your father keeps the letters as proof to blackmail them into doing his bidding. And if he ever goes down, they will go down with him.”

“If you know all this, why don’t you expose him?” Alex dared to ask. This was not how he was supposed to speak to a member of the Royal Family, and he knew he was overstepping, but he had to know. “What does he have over you?”

Isobel leveled him a glare, but didn’t call him out on his impropriety. She started huffing, but her gaze grew sad instead. “He has Rosa,” she said quietly. “And that means he has me.”

Rosa. Free-spirited, beautiful Rosa. The best of them all, cast out of the court like a criminal and sent back to her father’s country, forbidden from any contact with them.

“You had her exiled!” Alex lost his temper before he could check himself. Rosa had been his best friend, the fourth of the invincible group he formed with Liz and Maria. She should have become Captain, not Alex. But she’d gotten too close to the Princess, and she’d paid the price for it.

That was why he watched Liz’s infatuation with the new King Max, Isobel’s twin brother, with wariness. He wouldn’t let the same thing happen to another of his Musketeers, to Rosa’s little sister.

“I did not,” Isobel sighed. “Your father did. She found those letters, she was going to expose him. Manes had her cast out and convinced my father the King to marry me off to Noah, who is loyal to him. He’s been dangling our relationship over my head for years.”

Alex couldn’t stop his anger now that it was out. He could only think of the tears on Liz’s face when her sister went missing, the months of thinking she was dead in a ditch somewhere. “And you think you got the short end of that stick? Rosa’s all alone in a country she’s never lived in, stripped of everything she accomplished for herself! For all I know she’s still a prisoner, too!” They’d gotten one letter, after months of silence, hand-delivered by one of Isobel’s maids. It had been upbeat and hopeful, like only Rosa could be when things were desperate, and Alex knew she hadn’t told them the whole truth.

Isobel looked away. “I know that, Captain. That’s exactly why I can’t expose your father. I can’t risk Rosa’s life, and he’s capable of having her killed if I take a single step wrong. That’s why I need you.”

“Why now?” Alex asked. “He’s been Prime Minister for eight years. What’s changed?”

Isobel sighed. “You can’t repeat this to anyone. Not even your friends, not until the official announcement is made.”

Alex silently put his hand over his heart as a promise.

“I’m with child,” Isobel said. “My marriage is...what it is, and I was willing to sacrifice many things for the peace of the kingdom, as long as my father was the King. But Max hates your father, and they’re already battling each other by way of new taxes and border strategies. I fear that it will turn into war soon. I won’t let my child get caught in the middle.”

Alex inclined his head. An expectant mother would do a lot for her child, he knew that. And Michael trusted Isobel. He could work with that. “Where are the letters?” he asked.

“Manes keeps them in his office, in a locked drawer.”

Alex exchanged a look with Michael. His father’s office was deep inside the palace, constantly guarded. Getting there without getting caught would be almost impossible.

He stood up and bowed deeply. “I will do my best, your Highness,” he said. He still had misgivings, but if Isobel was telling the truth – and why would she lie? – this was their chance to win the game. The Queen could do a lot of damage on a chess board.

“Captain,” Isobel called him, prompting him to straighten up. “Michael told me some of what happened to the both of you. Manes will not go unpunished for that.”

“He was within his rights,” Alex said bitterly. He didn’t know what to think about the fact that Michael had told Isobel about them, but he had told his friends, too. He couldn’t blame Michael.

“Maybe, but he hurt my brother. He will get what he deserves.”

Alex nodded, still doubtful. “Thank you, your Highness.”

*

Hedgehog System

Two years ago

Alex propped himself up with one crutch carefully as he tended to his horse. He groaned in pain when the young mare shifted her head brusquely and he had to side step, his stump brushing on his other calf. It had been just over two months since he’d been amputated, and the wound was slow to heal, his body still reeling from the infection that had almost killed him.

He wasn’t really supposed to be up and about, but most of the Musketeers were out on palace duty and he was bored. He couldn’t focus on paperwork anymore and he was too wound up to sleep, so he’d come to the stables to have something to do.

His mare moved again, and Alex barely avoided tumbling to the floor, his balance shot. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea after all.

“Alex!” a voice called. “Where are you?”

It was Rosa. Alex dropped his brush and grabbed his second crutch, leaning against the wall of the stall. “I’m here!” he called back, making his slow way back to the courtyard.

“Alex,” Rosa sighed, seeing him. She didn’t scold him for leaving his room, which was Alex’s first clue that something was very wrong. The second was the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“What happened?” he asked, worried. He dragged himself to a bench and sat down, gesturing her closer.

“I have to leave,” Rosa said.

Alex frowned. “Leave? The garrison?”

“The country,” Rosa sighed, drying her face. “I have to run.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isobel and I...we got caught,” she sobbed. “I have no choice.”

Alex closed his eyes briefly, then put a hand on her shoulder. “Rosa, who caught you?” He knew that Rosa has been seeing the Princess in secret for months, since before he and Liz had gone to war. They’d been discreet, but Alex had found a note Isobel had given Rosa by accident once, and she’d confessed everything.

Rosa bit her lip and met his eyes, hesitating. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Isobel is engaged, and I’m just a commoner. If I don’t leave, they’ll have me executed.”

Alex hugged her as she cried, until Liz and Maria returned from the palace. The goodbyes were painful. Rosa was forced to pack light, leaving with only her horse – most of what she had belonged to the garrison, anyway. She could barely stand to tell her father, but he accepted the truth sadly, preparing her as much food as she could carry for the journey.

Liz collapsed as soon as Rosa’s horse passed the garrison gates, weeping in Alex’s arms. Rosa could never come back, now. She’d have to make a whole new life somewhere, in a country at war with their own, and it was hard to tell if they’d ever see her again.

*

Center Game

Four months ago

Getting their hands on the letters turned out to be easier than they’d hoped. It was once they found them that things started to go awry.

Michael had orchestrated a commotion in the palace, enough to attract the Red Guards that stood outside of Jesse Manes’ office away. Alex knew that his father was attending the King, so he picked the lock and took Michael inside. They’d both been in the office many times, and they knew where Jesse kept his confidential papers and prized possessions. The drawer was locked, but it was the work of minutes to get it opened.

There were multiple stacks of paper inside. One was an entire bundle of blank lettres de cachet signed by the old King that made Alex wince internally. His father having that kind of power didn’t sit well with him. These letters could condemn someone to death without a trial or any kind of proof of a crime – only the whim of whoever held it. It was undoubtedly how Jesse had managed to have Rosa exiled.

The second bundle proved to be the one they were looking for. Alex untied it and started looking over the letters to check that it was all of it while Michael stood guard outside.

“Michael, look at those names,” Alex pointed at the headers of some of the letters.

Michael approached and read over his shoulder. “Valenti, DeLuca… They were involved?”

“It looks like it.” Alex sighed, his excitement dropping. “If these letters implicate them, we can’t use them. I can’t do this to Mimi, or to the Commander and Kyle.”

“It looks like it’s only the old Commander, Kyle’s father, not his mother,” Michael said, leafing through the sheets of paper. “But Mimi DeLuca was definitely involved.”

“So this is all useless?”

Michael didn’t have time to answer, because there was a commotion outside. “Guards! Why did you leave your post?” It was Jesse Manes’ voice.

“Shit,” Alex murmured.

His father was too close to the door, there was no way they would be able to get out in time.

“Hide,” Michael whispered hurriedly.

Alex didn’t have time to grab the letters from where he’d dropped them back into the drawer. He stumbled to the balcony and flattened himself against the window frame, hoping against hope that his father wouldn’t notice. It was a terrible hiding place, but there was nowhere else in the office that would fit him.

“Lord Michael, what is the meaning of this?” he heard his father ask.

“I happened to pass by your office on my way to see what was going on in the north wing,” Michael answered, his voice loud and formal. “I saw that it was unguarded and opened, and when I checked that everything was alright, I was almost ran into by someone fleeing the place. I think they searched your desk. I tried to stop them, but I was too late.”

Alex heard someone ruffling through papers.

“Minister, it was a Musketeer,” Michael added. “I saw the uniform.”

Alex held his breath.

“Alex,” Jesse muttered. “Of course. Him or one of his friends. No point in trying to close down the palace, those damned Musketeers have free reign here.”

“I don’t think he had time to take anything,” Michael said.

Jesse ruffled through papers some more, then sighed. “I have to go attend the King,” he said. “I’ll leave you in charge of tightening the palace security.”

“Yes, Minister,” Michael answered. “I will see to it immediately.”

Alex heard their steps retreat, and then the door closed. He didn’t dare move, in case Jesse had remained in the office for any reason, but he couldn’t hear any noise.

Several minutes later, the door opened again. “Alex?” Michael called quietly.

Alex stepped out back inside, grumbling as his leg protested his standing on it for too long. “He’s gone?”

“Yeah, he’s with the King. I sent the guards away for now and made sure no one would notice. We can’t take the letters now, though, or he’ll know.”

Alex cursed through his teeth. “Why did you have to tell him it was a Musketeer?”

“I needed his attention off of me,” Michael said. “If he thinks it’s you, he won’t search for the person responsible any further. The plan doesn’t work if he doesn’t trust me.”

“What plan? Even if we can steal the letters at a later date, we can’t use them. I can’t do this to Mimi and Maria.”

They discreetly walked out of the office and into another corridor, entering the Princess’s wing. This was the only place in the palace where they could be reasonably certain that they wouldn’t be overheard by someone with ill-intent.

“I think I have an idea,” Michael said. “It won’t be easy, and it might be dangerous. But that’s the way you play chess, right? Take risks?”

Alex shook his head. “My father wouldn’t agree with you. He makes hard decisions, but he doesn’t take risks.”

“And you?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve learned that playing by his rules doesn’t give me the advantage.”

“Good,” Michael smiled. “So, maybe we can’t use the letters to incriminate him, but there are other ways they could be helpful. Getting my hands on them will take some time, but it should be easy enough. He’s starting to trust me.”

“How is that useful to us?”

“He’s going to make his move against Max soon. We need him to trust me enough to ask me to do his dirty work.”

Alex blinked. “You want him to ask you to kill Max?”

“I’ll start dropping hints,” Michael said. “That I’m frustrated that Max won’t give me more power, unlike the old King, that I’ve done this kind of thing before… With my past, he won’t have trouble believing me, and if he thinks he has leverage over me, he won’t think twice.”

“So you want to what, stage a murder?”

Michael laughed. “No, just convincingly fail at my task. And once he’s asked me that, we’ll have proof that he’s conspiring against the King.”

“He won’t give you the orders in writing,” Alex said. “He’s more cunning than that. It will be your word against his.”

“That’s where the letters come in,” Michael smirked.

*

Drunken Knight Opening

Two weeks ago

It happened in a matter of seconds. One moment, Alex was stumbling around the town square outside the garrison, drunk and depressed, ready to collapse into bed. The next moment, he had Michael in a choke-hold, and he was holding a dagger to his throat. Michael had shown up out of nowhere, running from a back alley, and Alex honestly couldn't have explained it if he tried, except to say that his body reacted long before his mind caught up.

“Alex,” Michael let out a strangled whisper. He tried to free himself, but Alex was restraining him too strongly.

“I knew you weren't telling the truth,” Alex hissed. “You had ulterior motives. You just can't let things go, can you?”

“Alex, I don't know what you're talking about,” Michael tried.

“Alex!” Maria called from the garrison door. Alex turned to her sharply, almost driving the knife straight into Michael's neck in the process. “What are you doing? He's the King's brother!”

“He's a liar and a thief,” Alex spit out. “And my father's spy.”

“Alex,” Maria tried, her hands up to show she was harmless. “You're drunk. Free him and we can talk.”

Alex’s rage spiked, hard and unforgiving in his chest. Maria was looking at him with something like pity in her eyes, like he was good for nothing more than her contempt, a shadow of her once great capacity for compassion. Maria, who had let herself be seduced by Michael, who still defended him after Alex had told her everything. She’d probably given him information about Alex, ways to reach his weaknesses.

“You!” Alex rounded in on her, not letting go of Michael. “You slept with him! Are you in love with him?”

“You don't understand,” Maria sighed. Liz came up behind her, her face resigned and sad.

“No, I don't,” Alex said.

“I didn't know, Alex. I swear I didn't.”

They circled each other a few times, in slow steps. Alex could see Liz out of the corner of his eye, ready to intervene, Kyle and his medical kit, waiting.

“Will that do?” he murmured in Michael’s ear.

“Lots of people watching us,” Michael whispered back. “I see Red Guards coming. It should convince your father.”

He chose that moment to free himself of the choke-hold. The main gauche nicked his neck, but the amount of blood wasn’t enough for it to be a serious injury.

Alex immediately drew his sword, but he stumbled, too drunk to fight properly. Michael threw him stumbling backward into Liz's arms, a slash of his blade sending fire down his arm. And just like that, the fight was over.

Michael disappeared into the crowd, swallowed into the sea of red uniforms arriving at the scene.

*

Promotion

Now

“How was my funeral?” Alex asked from his seat by the window, in the shadows, where he’d been watching the garrison’s courtyard slowly fill up.

“Very emotional,” Liz said, carelessly throwing her rapier onto the bed. “Commander Valenti had a lot to say about you. Your father looked very uncomfortable.”

“I'm sorry to have missed it, I wish I'd seen that. Any news from Michael?”

Maria shook her head. “Not since he killed you.”

“You’re never going to let us live this one down, are you?” Alex asked.

Faking his shooting in the middle of the street had been a rehearsed affair, with the help of a blank pistol and creative use of cow blood. Alex’s best friends and Commander Valenti were the only ones who knew. They’d had to bring the Commander in on the whole plan, but though she’d scolded them about taking unnecessary risks, she was overjoyed to get the opportunity to get back at her long-time rival. Jesse Manes had been a thorn in her shoe for too long.

“You and your lover just faked your murder to take down your father,” Maria said. “Things don’t get much more romantic than that.”

“You read too much,” Kyle grumbled.

Liz plopped down on Alex’s bed. “What now?”

“Michael should be talking to my father as we speak,” Alex explains. “He’ll propose to exchange himself for the letters. And since my father will think that getting revenge against Michael is more important to you than blackmailing him, we’ll have the leverage we need.”

“I still think this is a needlessly complicated plan,” Maria crossed her arms on her chest.

Alex shrugged. “But it will work,” he said. “We have a few days to prepare, and I have a mission.” He pointed at Maria. “You’re going to wait for Michael to contact you, and set up the exchange. I’ll give you the details.” He turned to Liz. “Since I need to make myself scarce until then, you and I are going on a trip. We’re going to get Rosa back.”

Liz and Maria looked at each other. “You think it’s safe?” Maria asked.

“I’ll make sure it is,” Alec nodded. “Our job is to get her here. Michael will handle the rest.”

Liz’s face lit up and she got up from the bed to hug Alex. “Thank you,” she murmured in his ear. “Thank you. Dad’s going to be so happy.”

*

Magnet Sacrifice

Two weeks ago

“So we finally meet properly,” Michael said with a smile, shaking Liz’s hand, then Maria’s. “I feel like it’s long overdue.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding us,” Liz joked.

Alex felt a little like his parallel worlds were colliding, his day life as a Musketeer and his night escapades with Michael. Having Michael here, at the garrison – even if they’d taken precautions and let him in through a back door, and he wouldn’t go past Alex’s office – was both exciting and terrifying. They were playing a dangerous game.

“How did it go?” he asked, cutting the pleasantries short.

“The altercation got back to his ears, as planned,” Michael said. “And he knows you have the letters. He sees you as his main threat, and me as his ally.”

“So you've convinced him that you hate me and that you're on his side?”

“Almost. Just one tiny detail left.” Michael shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

Alex frowned. “And what is that?”

“I need to kill you.”

Alex’s friends erupted in questions and protests, while Alex stared at Michael, considering.

“Eliminate a threat and collar you in the same move,” he said slowly. “That sounds like him.”

Michael nodded. “I think he wants to both be certain that I really hate you, and make sure that he has me under his thumb. If I kill you in broad daylight, in front of witnesses, then he’s the only thing standing between me and jail.”

“He probably likes the dramatic irony of it all, too,” Alex rolled his eyes. It sounded just like his father. He wasn’t a dramatic man for the most part, doing everything with military precision and very little imagination, but when it came to torturing his family, he’d always been inventive. He’d forced Alex to watch Michael be hanged, ten years ago. Alex hated remembering what he’d done to his mother until she left, but it had been ugly.

“So, can we do it? We’d have to make it convincing.”

“Wait, you’re actually going to do it?” Liz protested.

“It’s the only way to get at him,” Michael said. “If I don’t do it, he’ll stop trusting me.”

“Won’t it put a wrench in your plan? You still haven’t told us the whole plan,” Maria accused Alex.

“That’s true,” Alex admitted, raising his hands in the air. “I didn’t want to until we were sure it was going to work. I’ve told you about the letters.” He waved at his desk, where the stack of letters Michael had stolen from Jesse Manes’ office were kept under lock. “My father is very careful not to leave a paper trail. We have the letters, but we can’t use them. Michael can testify that my father had him try to kill Max, but it’s not enough unless we have some kind of confession. So Michael came up with a plan.”

“We both did,” Michael corrected. “You gave me the idea.”

“Let’s say it was a collective effort,” Alex conceded. “My father doesn’t know that we can’t use the letters. Maria’s parentage isn’t public knowledge, and Jim Valenti is dead. He’s desperate to get them back. So we came up with an exchange: the letters, against Michael’s head on a platter. We convinced him that Michael and I hate each other, first with the duel, and more recently when I attacked him.”

“Oh, so that was why,” Maria raised her eyebrows.

Alex nodded. “He’s the King’s brother, so I can’t touch him. My father thinks that I want his hide for how he ‘humiliated’ me. We’ll stage the exchange carefully, in a place where he thinks he has the superior position, and I’ll trick him into a confession. He won’t be able to resist showing me he’s won.”

“That sounds like a really complicated plan,” Maria frowned.

“He’s a master chess player. He’d see through something simpler right away.”

“But then how does it work if Michael ‘kills’ you?” Liz asked.

“It will be even better,” Michael said. “Because he won’t feel threatened anymore. I’ll kill Alex, secure my position. You’ll make the exchange, pretending that you don’t care about the letters and just want revenge. With Alex gone, he’ll think he’s untouchable.”

*

Zugzwang

Now

“You murderer!” Liz hissed as soon as Michael walked into the church, on Jesse Manes’ heels. Maria put a hand on her wrist to keep her from lunging at Michael.

They had chosen the church for the exchange because it would be empty at this time of the day, and it was neutral ground. Holy ground. Even Jesse Manes wouldn’t dare try something there. He’d come without guards, unwilling to trust any of them with this mission. A few coins had gone to the priest to make sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“You shot him in cold blood!” Liz cried out again. She was a good actress, Michael has to give her that.

“He would have done the same to me,” Michael shrugged, lowering his collar to expose his neck, and the scar there. “He did, once.”

“Entertaining as this is, perhaps we should get down to business,” Manes said coldly. “Give me the letters, and you can do what you want with Michael.”

Liz took a step forward, and Maria let her go. She bowed her head.

“Minister, I’m sorry for you loss. I’m sure that discovering that your son was killed by one of your own men was devastating. I was surprised to hear that Lord Michael was still free.”

“He was...useful,” Manes said. “Are you aware of the contents of the letters?”

“Oh, she knows,” Michael said through his teeth.

Liz put her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Shut up, you traitor,” she spit out.

“She knows you tried to depose the old King,” Michael said anyway, putting as much contempt in his tone as he could. It wasn’t hard. He had plenty of contempt in store for Jesse Manes. “She knows you tried to kill the new one, too. But she doesn’t care, as long as her precious Alex is avenged.”

Manes hissed in shock and grabbed Michael by the collar. “You told them?”

Michael shrugged cockily, no trace of fear on his face. “I told them everything.”

“You’d murder the King, just to get your little favorite on the throne?” Liz asked, moving so that she was on Jesse Manes’ other side. “Why? Haven’t you got enough power already?”

“It wasn’t about power,” Jesse sneered.

“Of course it was,” Michael said, pushing him away. “You just wanted your own puppet. Max is too opinionated for you.”

Jesse let him go, his face reddening in anger. “You understand nothing.”

“Then tell us,” Liz said, taking the letters out of her pocket. “Tell us, and you’ll get your precious letters. Nothing will be able to hurt you anymore.”

Jesse glared at her. “The King is destroying our country. He’s emptying our coffers, ending taxes, bleeding us dry. We’re at war, you of all people should know that. We can’t win a war without money. I ordered his death because I alone will face the truths that no one else can stomach.”

Liz paused. “And the old King?”

“A youthful mistake,” Jesse shrugged. “Once we got past our differences, he was amenable to work with me. Just like Noah will be.”

“Well, wasn’t that an enlightening conversation,” a voice boomed out behind their backs.

Jesse turned around in shock as Alex walked in from behind the organ. “Hello, Father.”

“You’re dead,” Jesse hissed, eyes widening almost comically.

“Am I really? It seems that I’m a better player than you give me credit for,” Alex said, putting an arm around Michael’s waist. “You should choose your pieces better.”

*

En passant

Ten years ago

Alex stopped humming and jumped to his feet as he heard a horse neigh in the distance. His own horse was placid beside the stream, munching on a clump of herbs, but he perked up as well. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then Alex heard a gallop and a frightened horse passed him at high speed, jumping over the little stream without slowing down.

“Come back!” a voice called.

Alex took a few steps away from the cover of the trees and spotted a young man running toward where the horse had gone, limping slightly. His breeches were covered in mud, like he’d fallen off the horse. His outfit was made of cheap linen and rough wool, the only leather a satchel across his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked when the boy reached him. He seemed to be about Alex’s age, with light curly hair framing his face. He was beautiful, in the unrefined way that commoner could be, all muscles from hard work and sun-tanned skin. Below your station, Jesse Manes’ voice echoed in Alex’s ears.

The boy stared at Alex for a moment, giving up on chasing his horse. “He’ll come back eventually,” he sighed. “I’m trying to train him, but he’s stubborn.”

“He’s yours?” Alex asked.

“No, he belongs to the Valenti estate. I’m just helping train him.”

The Valentis were the owners of the land bordering the Manes’ estate. Alex mostly knew their son Kyle, who was his age, though they’d had a falling out and no longer spent time together. Kyle’s parents spent most of the year in the capital, since his father was the Commander of the King’s Musketeers. Alex and Kyle had dreamed of becoming Musketeers themselves as children, though now that Alex was preparing to enlist in the Army next year, that dream seemed far away.

“I’m Alex,” he said, because it seemed only polite to introduce himself. He’d never been allowed to interact much with the inhabitants of the town besides the ones that served his family.

“Lord Manes’ youngest son, I know,” the other boy said, irreverently, his face almost daring Alex to react. “I’m Michael.”

Alex hitched to put him back in his place, but he stopped himself. It was clearly what Michael wanted, so he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“Only got here two months ago,” Michael drawled, with a hint of a northern accent. “I’m an orphan. I’ve lived in lots of places. You satisfied?”

Alex shrugged, still not rising to the provocation. “Where do you live now?”

“Here and there,” Michael ducked his head, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “In barns, mostly. I try to pick up work wherever I can.”

Alex bit his lip. Michael’s bravado seemed to stem from not wanting to be put down by rough conditions, and he could admire that. “Can you tend a garden?” he asked.

Michael nodded.

“Our gardener’s old and almost blind, he could use some help. I can’t promise you money, but there’s a shed. It’s sturdy and it keeps warmth pretty well.” Alex knew that mostly because it was where he ran to, when his father was angry enough that staying in the house was dangerous.

“Why?” Michael asked. “What do you want from me?”

Alex shrugged. “Properly pruned rose bushes? People don’t always have an agenda.”

Michael stared at him doubtfully, but he nodded. “I have to go,” he muttered. “Need to find that damn horse before nightfall.”

Alex watched him jump over the stream and take off running and stared after him for a while. He wasn’t sure what to make of this encounter. Mr Sanders would be glad to have some help, especially if it was help he didn’t have to share his paycheck with, but Alex didn’t know what had possessed him to offer the job to a boy he’d just met.

There was something about Michael. Alex couldn’t quite figure out what, but he couldn’t get his face out of his mind, as he hopped onto his horse’s back and led him back to the stables.

He tended to his horse quickly and went to change, knowing that his father was waiting for him in his study for their daily game of chess. It was the only time in the day that they still interacted, as Alex avoided coming down for meals unless they had guests. Since Flint had left the previous year, life at home had been worse than ever, and Alex spent as much time as he could outside or locked in his quarters.

His father scowled at him in displeasure when Alex slid onto the chair waiting for him, and made his first move without a word. He always played the whites. He always won.

Alex dreamed of inverting the board, sometimes. The whites played first, and that gave them an advantage. Maybe with that, he could finally beat his father – finally make him proud.

“You’re hesitating again,” Jesse said, as Alex took a minute second to choose between taking a pawn and protecting his bishop. “You’re still not rigorous enough. There are no easy moves in chess. Whatever you do, there will be difficult consequences, sacrifices that you have to make. You can’t win without making hard decisions.”

Alex didn’t reply, and went with the risky move, that could give him checkmate in five if his father didn’t see it.

Jesse saw it. Of course he did. He played with little creativity, but a ruthlessness that was unmatched, and he had an eye for the combinations. He was always ten moves ahead. Alex couldn’t beat him.

He would beat him one day, he promised himself as Jesse waited for him to topple his king before he stood up and removed his belt. He would beat him, and he wouldn’t do it to make his father proud.

He would win, and his prize would be freedom.

*

Checkmate

Now

“How very cunning,” Jesse sneered at Alex. “You tricked me into making a full confession. And what use is your confession, uh? The word of a lowly Musketeer against the Prime Minister of Antar?”

“The King may not believe their words, Minister, but he will most certainly believe mine.”

Jesse Manes turned sharply at the new voice. Princess Isobel was as beautiful as ever, illuminated in the mysterious light of the church's stained glass windows. Her light green dress, an intricate work of lace and satin, almost appeared white, and so did her long blond hair, gathered above her head with jeweled pins. She didn’t smile as Jesse bowed to her, deeper than his status warranted. “Your Highness,” he said, backing away.

“General,” Isobel replied coldly, as Liz, Maria and Michael retreated out of the church discreetly, giving her the floor. “The King will hear about this. I am certain he will not have any choice but to dismiss you, and even if your status may spare you from standing trial, you’ll be exiled.”

Jesse backed away a few more steps. “Isobel,” he said, his tone condescending, switching out of formal address. Isobel’s face scrunched up in disgust. “You can’t do that. You know what will happen if you do.”

“I highly doubt that,” Isobel answered. She stepped aside, and Rosa came out of the shadows behind her.

Isobel was incredibly good at this, Alex reflected. She waited until Rosa was at her shoulder and bowed her head to her, in a clear sign of her affection.

“Yes, Father,” Alex said. “I took the liberty to have Rosa escorted back to Antar. It turns out that the King was more than happy to pardon his favorite Musketeer’s sister, once the Princess made her case. And now, I have multiple witnesses who heard you confess to your plot to kill the King himself.”

He was still tense, watching his father's every move with his hand on his sword, but jubilation at this tableau is catching up to him. They had him. Their impossible plan had worked, and his father would never hurt anyone again.

Jesse looked scared now, looking around him for support that wouldn’t come as Alex advanced on him. Alex didn’t bother to hide his limp.

“Your blinders are what defeated you, father. You think I'm weak, because I love men. You thought Isobel was easier to manipulate than Max because she's a woman. You were wrong.”

Instead of stopping in front of his father to face him, he kept walking, until Jesse had to step aside to let him pass. “I believe this is checkmate, father,” he said in a low voice, meant to be heard by him only.

*

His friends were waiting for him behind the church. Alex led Rosa out, signaling his men to escort his father and the Princess back to the palace. Jesse Manes was done. He might not go to jail, but as soon as Isobel told the King, he would lose his job and his standing, and probably his title and estate.

Alex knees felt weak with relief, as he walked back to the garrison. Commander Valenti was standing with Kyle by the door to her office, and Alex simply nodded at them. It’s done. Kyle whooped in joy while his mother simply smiled.

Alex turned back to his best friends.

“So we’re four again?” Liz asked, watching Rosa with hesitation in her eyes, a fear impossible to put into words.

“I don’t know if I can get my commission back, but I’ll never stop being a Musketeer,” Rosa said with tears in her eyes. She held out a hand to her sister. “One for all,” she murmured.

Liz grabbed her hand, and Alex and Maria joined in, adding their hands on top. “All for one,” they said together. They fell into a group hug, relieved tears mixing with smiles.

Alex saw Michael standing at the gates out of the corner of his eye, leaning against one of the posts and watching them.

“Go to him,” Liz told him quietly. “You’ve waited for this for so long.”

Alex straightened his clothes. “I have something to do first,” he murmured. He unclasped the chain from his neck and took off the golden ring. Taking a deep breath, he slid it onto his finger.

He swallowed back a sob, looking at his hand.

“Does that mean we have a wedding to plan?” Rosa asked with a smirk.

“Soon,” Alex promised.

He didn’t look back as he joined Michael at the gates, and linked their hands together.

“It’s done.” He smiled softly at Michael, who didn’t speak. “We’re free.”

--

You can read the first two parts of the series for a more detailed account of Alex and Michael's duel and its aftermath (though keep in mind that they were written over a year ago, before season 2, and I've changed a few things to the plot of this AU since, most notably my plans for Maribel). I hope you liked this! And remember to go look at Slynella's amazing illustrations for this fic and give her all the love!

[lightbluecloud]

How to Hide a Game of Chess

Nagamas Gift for @luminisvii

Ships: Claude/Sylvain

Word Count: 3,581

"Checkmate." Sylvain could hear Claude's grin as he moved his remaining knight towards his finishing blow.

He sighed as he realized his mistake. In his previous turn, Sylvain had moved his king to a space where as long as Claude moved one of his knights, he could eliminate it with either said knight or his queen. He had been so focused on avoiding Claude's remaining bishop, he had failed to notice the trap waiting for him. As frustrating as it was to lose in such a manner, Sylvain couldn't be mad; there was nothing that screamed Claude like escaping from one scheme, only to fall into another. For that matter, out of any of Claude's schemes, his chess ones were the least consequential; throughout the course of the war, Sylvain had witnessed enough of his boyfriend's schemes in action to be relieved that he wasn't fighting for the other side.

However, he allowed himself to risk getting schemed in chess, as it was his and Claude's favorite board game. It was a way for them to bond, and a pleasant distraction from the terrors of war on their days off.

"Damn. That was a rookie mistake." Sylvain looked up, scratching the back of his neck. "I feel like I've made that mistake before too."

Claude's grin grew wider. "Indeed you have."

"Wait, really? When? How would you remember that?"

His grin faltered. "Is this truly not ringing any bells? Me checkmating you with my knight and queen?"

"Um. . ." Sylvain bit his lip. Him and Claude played chess often enough, both before and during the war, that he could not recall many individual games. However, there was one game that stood prominent in his mind. "Was it our first game?"

Claude's smile returned. Sylvain took note of the authenticity of it; this was not one of his small, shallow smiles that he put as a front. This smile went from ear to ear, a smile only Sylvain got to frequently see.

Sylvain couldn't help smiling as well. "That award-winning smile of yours tells me I guessed right."

"You remember that day as well as I do, no?"

"How could I forget that day, even if I wanted to?"

Sylvain became immersed in the memory; though it happened 5 years ago, it remained clear as if it happened the day before. He gazed at Claude, knowing that he was undergoing the same experience as the outer world slowly diminished.

_______________________________________________________________

 "Sylvain!"

The redhead's heart lurched as he heard Ingrid bark his name from afar. This was by no means the first time Sylvain had heard his name barked in such a tone, and knew it wouldn't be the last; yet, when coming from Ingrid, it sounded just as frightening each time. A part of him should have seen this coming, causing him to internally scold himself as he ran up the stairs to the second floor of the dormitory. But on the other hand, how was he supposed to know that the beautiful woman he came across while shopping happened to be a Knight of Seiros, formerly a knight for House Galatea?

"Syl.Vain!"

Her voice boomed closer. Sylvain grit his teeth, cursing Seteth for assigning him the room at the very end of the hall. He couldn't tell if he could hear Ingrid so well because of distance or volume, and he didn't want to find out which. And with how far he currently was from his room, combined with the time it would take to lock his door, he risked having that question answered.

Before he could change his mind, he suddenly skid to a stop and knocked on the door in front of him. He wasn't sure who's door this was; for all he knew, whoever was behind this door was either not present, or would slam the door on him, out of not wanting to get involved in his latest failed flirtatious crusade.

However, Sylvain recognized his luck the moment the door opened. It was Claude.

"Claude, my guy!" Sylvain flashed his signature charming smile. "Listen--"

"Need somewhere to hide?" Claude rose his eyebrow in feign curiosity.

Sylvain was too surprised to uphold his smile. "Wow. That didn't take long. How'd you know?"

"Panic is written all over your face, and I heard Ingrid yelling your name." Claude stepped back from the door. "Get in here."

"Sylvain Jose Gautier! I know you're in your room, don't try to hide from me!"

The red-haired man gulped as he heard Ingrid stomp up the stairs. His adrenaline had peaked high enough for his body to freeze, his legs stuck to the ground as he waited for his demise. At that moment, Claude grabbed Sylvain's upper arm and yanked him through his door as he kicked it shut.

As both young men caught their breath, Claude's hand remained on his arm. Sylvain didn't notice at first; he closed his eyes as he composed himself, returning to his senses as his adrenaline fell. Once he opened his eyes and took a final deep breath, he peered down at Claude's resting hand. He quickly pulled it away, placing it on his own hip instead.

Before either of them could break the silence, angry footsteps came storming down the hall. Sylvain felt his adrenaline slowly rising again, though to a lesser extent; him and Claude remained quiet as mice as Ingrid passed by Claude's door. They listened as Ingrid reached Sylvain door, (presumably) kicked it open, and nearly rose her voice once more.

"Sylvain, I--"

The red-haired man held back a sigh of relief as Ingrid's voice dropped. Nearly a minute later, Ingrid's footsteps sounded down the hall once more. A few steps past Claude's door, she stopped. Sylvain heard Claude's breath hitch as Ingrid barked, "I don't know where you are, young man, but you can't hide from me forever!" Sylvain held his breath until he heard Ingrid walk down the stairs.

"Phew," Sylvain exhaled. "That was close."

"For real," Claude said. "I thought she was going to try to come in here for a moment."

"Why? I doubt Ingrid suspects that I'm hiding in your room, out of anywhere."

"I don't think she suspects you're in my room. I freaked out because, well. . .I'm hiding from her too."

"Really?" Sylvain's eyes widened. "Didn't see that coming. What'd you do to get her panties in a twist? Hit on some pretty ladies?"

"Er. . .no. During lunch, I was sitting next to her and Lorenz in the dining hall. I had sat next to Lorenz intentionally, as I created a new. . .potion I wanted to try on him. Minutes later, Ingrid showed up and happened to sit next to me. Which would have been fine and dandy, had I not confused her and Lorenz's cups."

"Oh, man. I think I know where this is going."

"When Ingrid and Lorenz were busy chatting, I slipped some of the potion into her drink, thinking it was Lorenz's. Unfortunately, I wasn't stealthy enough, and Lorenz saw me pouring it. Of course, Ingrid took a swing of her cup moments after, and by the time Lorenz warned her, it was too late."

"So what did Ingrid do then? Bitch you out on the spot?"

"Sort of. She had flames in her eyes as she asked me what I put in her drink. I knew she'd remain mad no matter what I told her, so I gave her a dismissive answer before running. It doesn't seem like the potion has kicked in yet, because she's still awfully feisty."

"Just what kind of potion did you give her?"

Claude flashed one of his half-smiles. "My, my, I should of known that you're a nosy one."

"Nosy? Normally I wouldn't ask, but we're in a similar predicament here. The least you could tell me is if you gave her a rage-amplifying potion, because I haven't seen her this mad in a while."

"When you put it that way. . .fair enough. No, I gave her a mild stomach poison, nothing out of the ordinary. My plan was for Lorenz to ingest it because we were supposed to do stable duty together this afternoon, and I didn't want to deal with his--" Claude lowered his pitch in a mocking tone as he imitated Lorenz. ""--cleaning hooves is too strenuous for my delicate hands" this and, "sweeping hay is work below my noble birth" that. Ideally, it would have kicked in around now, and keep him in pain long enough to force Teach to partner me with someone else. But Ingrid only drank a few sips before Lorenz warned her, so she didn't drink enough for the potion to take full effect, assuming I made it correctly and it has any effect. Not to mention she's quite distracted." He flashed a half-smile. "She's so mad at you, it seems she forgot that she was mad at me. So I owe you my thanks."

"Oh. Wow." Sylvain didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended. "Is that why you're being merciful and allowing me to hide in here?"

"Yes and no." Claude tilted his head. "As bad as I feel for you, I've been wanting to talk to you. Because I also find you to be quite intriguing."

"Intriguing?" Sylvain rose an eyebrow. "What about me is intriguing?"

Claude chuckled. "You ask that as if it's a first. That doesn't surprise me, considering most of the conversation about you at Garreg Mach is, well. Not favorable."

Sylvain frowned. "I'm aware."

"Hey, no need for the long face. I'm not about to patronize you." Sylvain didn't have time to feel relieved because without missing a beat, Claude added, "Because I know you're smart. You know exactly what you're doing."

Sylvain flinched, his head lurching forward. "Huh?"

"I've seen the way you act around women, the way you try to woo them. I don't know about anyone else, but it's clear to me that your advances aren't authentic. You don't have genuine feelings for any of the girls you approach; I would argue you don't even find some of them attractive. It's all a game for you, to see how far you can reel them in before you leave them hanging."

The red-haired man's heartbeat began to increase again. "Uh. . ."

"And, trust me when I say I mean this in the most polite way possible. But not only do you lie to women, you're not even good at it. I feel bad for the women gullible enough to have fallen for your advances."

Heat rose from the center of Sylvain's stomach. "I see. You're laying on some thick accusations. It takes a bad liar to spot other bad liars, no?"

"Perhaps. But you haven't told me that I'm wrong."

He hadn't, and as much as Sylvain wanted to, he couldn't. He wasn't sure what it was about Claude, but with how he read him like a book, he couldn't gather the nerve to put on a pretty face.

"Okay, so I'm a bad liar and I play games with women. Congrats, you've solved the puzzle and won the grand prize. What else do you want?"

"Oh, I don't want anything." Claude stretched his arms, bending his elbows downwards so his hands were behind his neck. "I'm simply curious to what fuels your behavior. When I tried to come up with an explanation, I considered that you might have a grudge against women. Until I found out, you've hit on men as well."

It took every nerve in Sylvain's body to not leap up in surprise. "Okay, where did you hear that? Does Ingrid complain about me that often?"

"Bold of you to assume I heard that from Ingrid." His half-smile returned. "It was Flayn. I'm assuming Seteth told her that information in hopes to turn her against you, though all I'm asking is if it's true."

Sylvain buried his hand into his forehead. "Of course Seteth would tell her that. . ."

"But is it true?"

Sylvain sucked in a hiss. He threw his hand down as he barked, "Okay, I might have approached a few guys in the past. But those guys were known to be attracted to other men, and I just wanted to see how they would react!"

"I see. So you're open to hitting on men and women. But I'm still not sure why you play games when gender isn't the primary factor."

For a half second, Sylvain almost wished he had let Ingrid tear him another one instead of knocked on Claude's door. Yet, while he couldn't get himself to admit it, he appreciated how unfazed Claude was knowing he had flirted with men, and how mellow he had remained throughout this conversation. As uncomfortable as the subject was, no one had addressed Sylvain's behavior in this manner before; when people such as Ingrid, Seteth, and Dimitri would lecture him, they would simply tell him how irritated they were and that he should stop, which only made Sylvain want to flirt with people more. But when his behaviors were picked apart and put on display, Sylvain wasn't sure what to think, aside from the fact that he currently didn't want to keep having this conversation.

While attempting to form a dismissive response, Sylvain's eyes caught some of a chessboard laying under Claude's bed, chess pieces thrown in a pile in its center. Having no other diversion to resort to, he pointed at it.

"You play chess?"

"What?" Claude saw where Sylvain was pointing and turned to look. "Oh. Yeah, when I get the chance."

"So since we're on the subject of playing games. . .how about we play a round?"

"Trying to distract me, I see?" Claude smirked. "That's alright. To tell you the truth, I've thought about playing chess against you a few times. To test if you're as intelligent as I think."

"If you've convinced I'm so intelligent, maybe you should be more anxious about losing to me."

Claude pulled his chessboard from under his bed, dragging it to the middle of the floor as he replied with a raspy voice. "Alas, I shall not fall to anxiety, because anxiety is fear, and fear is a mind-killer." He sat on the ground. "That's a quote from some random old guy from centuries ago. Read it in a book."

Sylvain chuckled, sitting down across from the younger man. "If you insist, fearless warrior."

Claude bit back what looked like a smirk before responding, "What color do you want? Only difference is that white goes first."

"I'm feeling risky, so I'll take black."

The two young men remained mostly silent throughout the beginning of their game. Sylvain occasionally swore when Claude took out one of his pieces, and Claude praised Sylvain a couple times for making a move he didn't predict. While slight, the praise managed to boost Sylvain's ego enough to give him confidence that he would win, all while forgetting how he ended up in Claude's room in the first place.

That is, until he heard a distinct voice from outside the dormitory.

"Hey, Caspar! Have you seen Sylvain?"

Sylvain's blood turned to ice as Claude's breath hitched. They exchanged a look, silently asking each other if they should pause their game. Claude answered the question by carefully pushing a pawn forward with a finger, the pawn making almost no sound as it slid.

"Sylvain? Can't say that I have."

The red-haired man followed Claude's lead, gently pushing pieces rather than lifting them as he resisted the urge to peek out of Claude's window. Unfortunately, his distracted mind led to his demise, because next thing he knew, the younger man flashed a shit-eating grin.

"Checkmate," he whispered.

"What? How am I in--" Sylvain scanned his eyes around the board. "Oh." His king was surrounded with Claude's queen and remaining knight. "Damn. Can't believe I missed that!"

"Hey, you were beating me for a while. I may have won, but color me impre--"

"Dorothea! Did you see Sylvain within the last hour?"

Claude's jaw snapped shut as Ingrid's voice reemerged.

"I haven't," Dorothea said. "Who did he flirt with this time?"

Sylvain could tell Claude was fighting the urge to look out the window himself, his eyes constantly drifting towards that side of the room. Yet, for both of their sake, he remained composed.

"Oh, no one special. Just one of the Knights of Seiros that used to work for my father!"

Claude clasped a hand over his mouth. Sylvain was almost grateful they had to be silent, because he knew Claude had a roast dancing behind his lips.

"Wow. That man is really desperate, no wonder you're mad. Unfortunately, I haven't seen him since breakfast in the dining hall."

A pang stabbed Sylvain in the chest. He knew people all over Garreg Mach spoke ill of him, but to hear such ill-spoken words in real time hit differently.

"Oh. That's alrigh--ow!"

"Ingrid!" Dorothea shrieked. "Are you alright?"

"Ack. . .my stomach just started hurting real bad. Wait. . ."

"What is it?"

"Claude. He sneaked some potion into my drink during lunch today, and Lorenz didn't tell me he saw Claude do so until I had already drank some. Could this be. . .?"

"It has to be!" Dorothea barked. "That stupid Claude and his schemes! Must be one of his stomach potions I hear notorious things about. I can't believe he would go as far as to poison my Ingrid!"

"I don't understand it either. . .but Lorenz was at our table. Maybe he meant to poison Lorenz and accidentally poisoned me in the process?"

"It doesn't matter who Claude meant to poison! He still hurt my Ingrid and he is going to pay the price!" The growl in Dorothea's voice temporary dissipated as she switched to comforting Ingrid. "I'll take you to the infirmary, I'm sure Manuela has something to ease the pain. After that, I'm going to find Claude and make him sorry he ever came near you!"

"Dorothea, you are so kind, but there's no need to track down Claude. I can talk to him myself once my pain eases."

"Nonsense! You can bring him to justice later, but I must defend my Ingrid now! Come along, the infirmary isn't far."

Sylvain and Claude waited a long, tense minute until the two young women had walked far enough. Then Sylvain asked in a voice far calmer than it should have been, "Now what do we do? This will be the first place Dorothea will check as soon as she drops off Ingrid."

"Well. . ." Claude bit his lip. "You could help me with stable duty."

"Stable duty? Oh, right. That's still a thing." Sylvain remained still.

"I get it, you don't want to do laborious work. But think of it this way; consider your help as not only my grand prize for beating you, but a guaranteed escape from the wrath of Ingrid and Dorothea." Claude's half-grin flashed once more. "What do you say to that?"

". . .On second thought, stable duty sounds like a really good idea right now." Sylvain stood up fast enough to nearly pull a muscle. "Race you there!"

"As if I wasn't already going to make a run for it." Claude stood up as well, and within seconds, both of them were out the door and stampeding down the hall.

 _______________________________________________________________

 "Oh Sylvaiiiiin!"

"Huh?" Sylvain jerked out of his thoughts. He was met with his Claude standing right in front of him, continuing to flash his award-winning smile. "Yes?"

"Do I get a grand prize for beating you, again?"

"Why of course, darling." Sylvain reached up to cup his boyfriend's face and pull him into a kiss. Claude kissed him back eagerly, crouching as he swung his legs over Sylvain's to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around the redhead as he deepened the kiss, probing his tongue to ask for entrance. Sylvain was about to allow his tongue entry, only for their make-out session to be cut off by a grumpy voice.

"You two are disgusting. Go to your room if you're going to make out!"

Sylvain and Claude snapped their heads towards Felix, who frowned at the doorway of the common room. Sylvain felt a blush creeping towards his face, unable to come up with a response. However, he didn't have to, because what Claude said next spoke for his behalf.

"Not our fault you can't find someone to make out in public with."

He winked at Felix before returning his gaze to Sylvain and diving in for another kiss, instantly probing his tongue. Sylvain opened his mouth without hesitation, therefore resuming their make-out session. They ignored Felix as he huffed and stormed off.

As their make-out session began to get heated, Sylvain continued to praise that day; he would never get over having met the love of his life over philandering gone wrong. That day led to a blossoming friendship, which led to a mutual crush, which led to a beautiful, loving relationship to the future leader of Fódlan. This man saw through Sylvain like glass; his Crest, noble house, and philandering were irrelevant to Claude, because Claude loved him for him. There was no man in Fódlan who understood Sylvain better, the same man determined to create a world more equal than the one both were raised in.

And Sylvain wouldn't trade that for anything.

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day thirty-one

Prompt #31: “I trust you.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall.

Words: 2218

Author’s Note: an underappreciated aspect of chess culture? games played for fun are called Skittles. set post 5B, Scott & Stiles take a break to play a game of chess, and wind up talking about a whole lot more than just a game. Gen fic, Scott & Stiles focus. Stiles POV.

>> j’adoube (i adjust)

Stiles tosses his pen in the air. Watches it flip, twice. Catches it, barely. Toss and repeat.

“Hey, Scott.”

Scott, who’s sitting across from him at the desk, just grunts without looking up. They’ve been going over scholarships together for the past three hours, and it’s the most mind-numbing use of a Saturday Stiles has had in a very long time.

Which, considering most of his Saturdays have been more of the terrifyingly bloody variety, is probably still preferable. But still.

“Scoooooooott.”

Scott flips to the next page. “Mm?”

Stiles throws his pen at him and smacks him squarely across the face.

“Ow, Stiles—what?”

Stiles flips over onto his stomach, triumphant to have finally gotten Scott’s full attention. “You wanna play a game?”

Scott puts his own pen down and leans back in the chair, stretching and popping in a way that suggests being hunched over for that long is unpleasant for even a werewolf. “What kind? Board game?”

Stiles grins.

Board games, to his mind, are sacrosanct.

Not necessarily because he loves them—given a free range of choices, he’d rather do just about anything else—but because it’s so easy for them to suck.

Yahtzee, Monopoly, Shoots and Ladders, Candy Land, Sorry, even Risk—there’s just too much luck involved for his taste. Draw randomized but predetermined cards, roll uncontrollable dice. And that’s not even touching the disaster that’s Life, where the only two choices that ever matter are college or career, kids or no kids.

Absolutely nothing about bite or no bite, or possession or no possession.

Or ‘betrayed by a monster that gets your best friend killed and your crush of five years committed to an asylum,’ but.

Either way, it’s a joke.

There are better board games. Clue or Scrabble, which still rely on the hand that’s dealt, but at least can be salvaged with enough knowledge and strategy.

But he has the best one in mind for today.

“Chess?”

Scott’s eyes light up with a competitive glint Stiles feels like he hasn’t seen in ages, and he knows he’s won.

“I could do a round or two,” Scott says.

“Oh, thank god—”

“But, then we have to get back to work on these.”

“Yep, uh-huh, absolutely,” Stiles says, rolling off the bed and hunting underneath it for his set.

He fully intends to bribe Scott into playing way more than that, but one thing at a time.

His fingers close over the wooden case and he draws it out, blowing a bit of dust off the top. He turns it over in his hands.

If board games are sacrosanct, then chess is the holy grail.

Most people don’t get the attraction, and he respects that. It takes a certain level of concentration to be good at chess, and considering how many strategy books he’s read on the topic—even if he rarely remembers them—he can beat a casual player without too much effort. Plus, most people prefer games that don’t require much thought, perfectly wiling to just roll their dice and move their mice.

Stiles respects that a lot less.

What he likes about chess is that it’s the one game that’s completely and totally winnable every time—with no variation from chance or random dealing. He might be outmatched, but he’s not outnumbered.

Every choice he makes is fully his own.

It’s the best game.

The only marginal difference is that white has a slight advantage, as it gets to go first, so as Stiles tosses the set onto the bed he says, “I can be black this time.”

Scott barely glances up from the scholarship he’s still worrying himself over. “Hm? No, that’s okay, I don’t mind. You can take white.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and flops onto the bed. “You’ve been black the past like, eight times we’ve played. You’re white this time.”

“Stiles, I really don’t care if you want it.”

It’s an innocuous statement, but Stiles’ temper flares because all he can hear is that Scott thinks he needs the advantage—even if it’s one that, statistically, barely even matters. “What, because you don’t think I can beat you otherwise?”

“What? No, Stiles, I—” Scott falls silent, and it’s enough to instantly cool Stiles’ frustration. “I just—never mind. I can be white.”

Stiles hesitates for a few beats, then turns the board and starts setting the pieces up so the white ones are facing Scott.

He pauses. He’s been trying to pay more attention to Scott lately, but it’s hard—Scott tends to fold pretty quickly on smaller issues, and he tends to—

Well.

Not.

“Then again,” he tries, “I guess it doesn’t really matter—”

“You asked me to play white, so I’ll play white.” Scott’s voice is flat. “You were right; we haven’t switched it up in a while, so it’s only fair. Just give me a sec to finish this.”

“…Okay.”

Stiles toys with the edge of the board as he waits for Scott to finish restacking the papers.

One of the reasons Stiles likes chess is because it makes for a surprisingly good Rorschach test, and he’s played it with every member of the pack at some point or another.

Liam’s not much of a challenge, mostly because he’s made it clear he doesn’t care. The one time they played, he’d started strong—aiming to capture more than aiming to secure—but his failure to consider long-term strategy had gotten him into trouble almost immediately. With Malia, she has a good concept of how to control the center of the board, and favors trap-based strategy, but her ability to pay attention to her opponent’s gameplay is usually her downfall. Lydia tends to focus on a bishop and pawn strategy, which works very well for her mostly because it infuriates Stiles—his own strategy relies heavily on a more spontaneous approach to movement, and her method thoroughly demarcates most of the board. That’s probably why he enjoys playing with Kira, whose strategy rotates every time they play—as soon as he’d introduced her to the game, she’d started binging chess tutorials at speeds that put his own research to shame.

He hasn’t had the chance to play with the new pack members, but he has his guesses as to how that will go. Mason will play circles around him, but be super nice about it. Hayden will either trounce him thoroughly if she cares, or lose terribly if she doesn’t, and there will be nothing in between. Corey… Corey will probably favor the knights, which will make him hard to beat on the front end, but almost impossible to lose to in the endgame.

But he can work with that. All of those strategies make sense; make it easier for him to understand and categorize them.

He looks down at the white and black pieces, standing silently in anticipation of the match.

He can’t think of any reason Scott would want to reject the advantage, unless it was just for his benefit, but he hadn’t appeared to be lying.

And now Scott probably won’t tell him because he’d snapped at him instead of just asking.

Stiles winces and rakes his hands through his hair.

It’s just a chess preference. It’s not like it matters.

Except it does, because everything between them feels so fragile after Theo.

Stiles’ thoughts are interrupted when Scott vaults onto the bed, accidentally knocking one of the pawns forward as the board lists to the side.

“Whoops,” Scott says. The tiniest of smirks appears on his face as he moves to fix it. “J’adoube.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to announce that that’s not your move when I can clearly see what just happened.”

“Can’t be too careful,” Scott says, adjusting the piece. “You’ve definitely called me out for less in the past.”

“You tried to change your mind after wrapping your whole hand around a bishop! How is that less?”

Scott shrugs, and Stiles is relieved he doesn’t seem to be bothered about the pieces anymore. “I’m just saying. Can’t be too careful.”

“A mindset I would normally endorse wholeheartedly, however.”

Scott laughs, then settles in cross-legged and stares down at the board, elbows resting on his knees and face furrowed in contemplation.

Stiles glances at Scott, then at board, then back at Scott again.

Scott doesn’t move.

Suddenly, it’s really bothering Stiles that despite having played with him more than anyone else, despite knowing him better than anyone else, Stiles still doesn’t understand why Scott plays the way he does.

It’s not that Scott’s exceptionally bad, or that Scott’s exceptionally good. It’s that he’s both.

When he plays with Stiles, he matches him step for step, pivoting his goals almost as quickly as Stiles does. But the few times Stiles’ seen Scott play with others, that ability seems to vanish—his level of competence almost directly mapped onto the level of the person he’s playing with, above or below where Stiles would expect it.

It doesn’t make sense, but that’s just Scott. Stiles had long since acknowledged that there were always going to be some things that didn’t make sense about his best friend.

That was before Theo. Before everything that was Scott & Stiles fell apart.

And also, Scott still hasn’t moved.

“Hey Scott?” Stiles waits until he glances up at him, chin still resting in his hands. “You gonna go, bud?”

“Yeah,” Scott says. He blinks down at the board. “There’s just… a lot of options.”

“Okay, right, that’s true,” Stiles says. “But it’s also just the first move.”

“Yeah.”

Scott reaches out and touches the pawn from before. He hovers there for a moment, then retracts his hand—the pawn still unmoved.

Stiles clears his throat.

“Really? You want me to—” Scott sighs. “J’adoube.”

“Technically, you’re supposed to say that before you touch it.”

“And technically, you said I didn’t have to say it earlier, so that one could count for the one I just did.”

“Bro,” Stiles says, because this is getting ridiculous. “Literally just move the pawn. Or a knight. Or any of the other pawns. There are zero other options.”

“I know, I know,” Scott says. “I just… what if I move this piece, and then you move like your knight or something, and it turns out I made the wrong move?”

Stiles squints at him. “It’s your move. Why would my move, which comes afterward, make yours wrong?”

“Because I have to stop your plan.”

“Right, but like.” Stiles tilts his head. “What about your plan?”

“That is my plan.”

Stiles’ brain short circuits, and he spins rapidly through every game he’s ever watched Scott play. “So—so wait. You mean every time you’re playing you’re just… trying to figure out your opponent’s plan? You’re not making one of your own?”

“I mean, kinda?” Scott reaches for the pawn again, then pauses before touching it. “J’adoube.”

“Yeah, whatever, just move the pawn,” Stiles says. “So earlier, it wasn’t about wanting me to have an advantage; you wanted black because… it’s to your advantage?”

Scott spins the pawn around in a slow circle, then lets go of it without moving its position. Again.

“I guess,” he says. “You like playing white better and I like black better, so it just… makes more sense to let us play the ones we actually prefer.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?”

Scott shrugs. “It just seemed like it was important to you, and I… I didn’t want to argue.” His eyes drop, and so does his voice. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”

Something clicks in Stiles’ mind. “J’adoube.”

“Uh,” Scott looks pointedly at the pieces, which are still unmoved, and his hands, which aren’t anywhere near them. “What?”

“‘I adjust,’” Stiles says. “That’s what you’ve been doing. Adjusting your plan to match mine, or—or anyone else.”

Scott picks at the edge of his sleeve. “And that’s bad?”

“Um.” Stiles hasn’t gotten that far. “No? I mean like, you’re clearly very good at it. You’ve definitely beat me enough times doing it.”

“I sense a ‘but.’”

“See, there you go, anticipating me again. You’re a pro.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, okay, the point.” Stiles glances down at the chessboard—and then at the pile of scholarships, too. “Look, I’m just saying you gotta just take the shot sometimes. Or move the pawn. Whatever. My point is, it’s okay to make your own plans.”

Scott shifts a bit to look behind him at the paperwork, something both worried and hopeful in his expression.

“And then, y’know,” Stiles continues, “you can always adjust them later if you have to. But you don’t have to start out that way.”

Scott picks up the pawn and turns it about in his fingers. He bites his lip. “And… you trust this to work?”

“Nah, man.” Stiles settles back against the wall and nods towards the board. “It’s the first move; I have no idea how it’ll play out. But… I trust you enough to know that you can handle it if it doesn’t.”

Scott’s eyes get suspiciously bright, but Stiles doesn’t comment. “I trust you, too.”

(And, well.)

(If Stiles’ eyes get a little bright too, no one comments on that either.)

Scott moves the pawn to e4, and lets it go.

[lindalevanimamm]

Thanksgiving Dinner

(A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s a short little story while I work on the next chapter of Reality. Please make sure that you are staying safe with the holiday’s coming up! Happy Thanksgiving!)

I woke up feeling something moving behind me. Saeyoung had wrapped his arms around me and was kissing my neck. “(Y/N) it’s time to get up. We need to get ready soon or we’ll be late getting to your parents,” he whispered in my ear. Right. It’s Thanksgiving today, and we’re headed to my parents for it. This will also be the first time my family is meeting Saeyoung. To make things even more stressful, this will also be the first time any of my siblings have brought home someone for the holidays. I never thought I would be the first out of my siblings to do so, I’m the most introverted and shy. We all expected my sister to be the first to bring someone home, she being the most outgoing and flirtatious. It had all been chance that I met Saeyoung though, I never would have if I didn’t go to Rika’s apartment. Not that I was going to tell my parents the truth of how we met, they would think I’m absolutely crazy, we would decide on a lie to tell on the drive there. Thinking about all of it makes me even more nervous…. “Mmm, but I don’t wanna get up,” I replied to Saeyoung. I rolled to face him and buried my head in his chest, taking in the scent of his cologne. Saeyoung chuckled. 

“It’s a four hour drive (Y/N), getting there late will make you even more nervous. It’s just your family, they can’t be that bad can they?” he asked. I knew Saeyoung was the opposite of me, he was beyond excited to meet my family. He had never really had family gatherings, or a good childhood, so I guess he was excited to finally be a part of one. Saeran refused to come with us, I told him he was more than welcome to come, but I think the idea of being around a family made him nervous, which I understand. My family can be a bit...well, much sometimes. We’re about half introverted and half extroverted, which has an interesting dynamic to it. I’m sure they’ll all try not to argue with Saeyoung being there, but I know it’ll happen. 

“You don’t know my family,” I finally replied, smiling. I looked up at him. “They are something else.” 

“Well they’re our something else right? I’m excited to go,” Saeyoung told me. I smiled. Our family. It sounds so unfamiliar to me, but it also sounds right. Of course I already think of Saeyoung as family, but hearing him actually say it was weird. 

“I know you’re excited. But it’s so early, we could just be late...or not go,” I tried. 

“It’s only six (Y/N). And nope, we already said we would go! I’m counting to three before I try another method of getting you up,” Saeyoung threatened. I frowned. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh I definitely would. One-” Before he could even get to two, I was up and making my way to the bathroom. No way was I going to be attacked this morning with tickles or who knows what with Saeyoung. I got ready relatively quickly, making sure I had a good outfit. I didn’t want them to think anything about me, in fact I hoped most of the attention would be on Saeyoung, not that it would work out. He can’t talk too much about his past. I heard a soft knock at my bedroom door. “You almost ready?” Saeyoung asked. I opened up the door and nodded. “Physically ready yes, mentally,” I paused and then brought up my hand and wiggled it. “Eh.” Saeyoung smiled. We packed up our things and got in his car, when I had a great idea. Saeyoung had noticed the smile growing on my face. 

“Why are you so excited all of the sudden?” he asked. 

“Oh, I’m not excited about the dinner and stuff, I’m excited about this drive!” I replied. 

“You’re excited to sit in a car for like four to five hours?” 

“Well yes. First off, that’s four or five hours I get to spend with you. Second off, it means we can listen to an audiobook! More specifically Skippy!” Saeyoung looked at me confused. 

“I didn’t know you liked audiobooks, and what’s Skippy?” he asked. I grinned. 

“Skippy is from a book series that my dad introduced me to called Expeditionary Force,” I began to explain. “It’s really good, I’ll even start from the first book for you, I think you’re going to like it a lot. It’s about a soldier named Joe Bishop and what happens when aliens come to Earth. Eventually, he’s in space and meets Skippy the magnificent and they do so many things together in order to save Earth. That wasn’t the best description of the book, but I do think you will like it. And this four or five hour drive is the perfect time to listen!”  (A/N: this is a real book and I highly recommend it, it’s incredible.) 

“Sounds good to me, and I don’t think I’ve seen you that excited about a book, so it must be good. Let’s give it a try,” Saeyoung smiled. He started up the car, plugged in his GPS and began our drive. I sat in the passenger seat, obviously, and was in charge of controlling the audiobook. I smiled throughout a lot of the drive, excited to listen to a series I enjoyed. We stopped about half way there to take a snack and bathroom break. I got out of the car to stand up and stretch. “Alright, I’ll go buy the snacks, what do you want?” Saeyoung asked. I thought for a moment. 

“Uh, surprise me. More importantly, what do you think of the book so far?” I asked. Saeyoung smiled. 

“I like it a lot! It’s pretty good so far.” 

“Well it gets even better!” I told him, walking away towards the restroom. I did my thing, and waited back in the car for Saeyoung. When he got back, he handed me his snack of choice, Honey Buddha Chips, and we continued our drive. I tried to focus on the book and not the nearing meeting. I was nervous about it. Would my family like Saeyoung? Are they going to think I’m insane? I got lost in thought for most of the later half of the drive. Before I knew it, Saeyoung was asking me to make sure we were at the right place. I nodded. Saeyoung reached over and put a hand on my thigh. “Everything is going to be fine (Y/N). They can’t be as crazy as my family,” he reminded me. I nodded. 

“What are we saying if they ask how we met? I don’t want to exactly tell them the truth because it will definitely blow up in my face. I can’t tell them I followed some at-the-time-creepy dude to an apartment, where I was kidnapped and then half forced to join the RFA. Definitely shouldn’t talk about the whole almost killed until you showed up thing either,” I asked. 

“Just tell them we met online. It’s not a complete lie,” Saeyoung suggested. I shook my head. 

“No that won’t do. My family knows I would never sign up for a dating app because of my personality. I’d never get the guts to even message someone,” I told him. Saeyoung laughed. 

“Oh my God (Y/N), I love you,” he managed to say through his laughter. I frowned. 

“It’s not my fault I’m me!” I argued. 

“If you weren’t the way you were, I don’t think I’d be here about to meet your family. It’s because you’re you that I like you.” I blushed a bit. 

“You didn’t answer me. We need a back story, you’re good at this. You’re going to have to lie anyway if they ask about your past,” I told him. 

“Do I?” 

“Do you what?” 

“Do I have to lie? I told you I want to marry you in the space station, so then your family will be mine as well. I don’t want to lie to my future in-laws,” Saeyoung said. I paused, I wasn’t expecting him to say that at all. 

“Well, it’s your choice and your past. If you want to tell them, you can, it’s just-” I paused. “You’re sure the agency won’t come after you, or your father and my family will be safe if you tell them?” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t endanger any of you. If anything did happen, I’d be here as soon as I could to fix it and help, but I’m sure nothing will happen if I tell them. As long as they don’t go and tell some big media,” Saeyoung assured me. I nodded. 

“Okay, but I still don’t want to tell them about me almost getting kidnapped by Saeran. They will take it the wrong way.” He laughed. 

“How can they take it the wrong way, you were almost kidnapped?” 

“Yeah, you’re right. But that’s going to make them think that you’re not safe,” I argued. 

“Alright fine, let’s tell them that we met at a school club. We didn’t talk much until you were being followed one day after the meeting. You ran to me and I helped you and made sure you got to your apartment safe, then blah blah blah, we start dating and now we’re here. This way you get the important stuff like joining the RFA, and being saved by me,” Saeyoung concluded. 

“That will work,” I paused. “Though they’re not going to be happy that I was walking home in the dark alone.” 

“Well, from that day on, I walked you home every night, as your knight in shining armour of love,” he teased. 

“Yuck,” I replied with a smile. 

“Let’s go.” Saeyoung reached for my hand and squeezed, before getting out. We grabbed what we could before going to the door. I hesitated whether to knock or not, it was my house after all. I didn’t have to decide though, not a second later my mom opened up the door. “(Y/N)!” she said, while reaching out to grab some of the bags I was carrying. “Oh and you must be Saeyoung,” she finished, looking at the man next to me. I looked over at him when he didn’t answer right away. I grew concerned as he just stood there like a brick. What is happening? Why isn’t he being his playful self and responding? Then I noticed his expression. He totally lied, he’s beyond nervous. 

“Yes, this is Saeyoung,” I replied to my mom, smiling before I leaned over and nudged him. Saeyoung gulped. 

“Y-yes it’s a p-pleasure to meet you M-mrs. (L/N),” he finally got out, after stumbling over his words. He reached out his hand to shake hers. My mom gave me a skeptical look, before heading in and announcing that we arrived. I looked over at Saeyoung, who was still standing there. I could tell how nervous he had become. It was very unusual, Saeyoung was good at masking his true feelings, so for him to be this nervous, made me worried. Normally he would just pretend he wasn’t and would act like himself, or the more flirtatious and outgoing part of himself. “Hey are you okay?” I asked him. 

“Honestly,” he paused to look at me. “No. I thought I would be fine, but I’m not. What if they all hate me?” 

“They’re not going to hate you, plus it doesn’t really matter what they end up thinking right? It just matters about how we feel about each other. Just relax and be yourself,” I told him. He nodded, but I could tell he was still really nervous. When we walked in, the rest of my family was waiting. Saeyoung went around with me and introduced himself, gaining a bit more confidence as he went. When it came to my dad though, he panicked again. I gave my dad a hug. “I missed you!” I told him. 

“This must be Saeyoung. It’s nice to meet you. I'm (F/F/N) (L/N),” my dad said, shaking Saeyoung’s hand. 

“Y-yes. It’s nice t-to meet you as well,” he once again stumbled. 

“Well, now that we’ve seen everyone, we’re going to go move our stuff to my room,” I smiled at my dad. He nodded and went to continue cooking the dinner. When we got into my room, I sat on my bed and laughed. Saeyoung looked at me, growing even more confused. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Saeyoung! Why are you so nervous? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this! It’s just five other people, that’s it. That’s everyone. We’re not close to any other family, you’ve met everyone. Just mom, dad, my sister, and brothers,” I told him. He relaxed a bit. 

“Oh,” was all he said. 

“Come here.” He slowly made his way over to me and I wrapped my arms around him. “You don’t need to be so nervous. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I know my family will love you. So please just relax.” To make my point I moved my hands to his face and kissed him, before looking in his eyes. “I love you,” I reminded him. 

“Love you too,” he responded. “You’re right I need to calm down. I didn’t think it would be this scary, but this is everyone?” 

“That’s everyone,” I confirmed. “Here, you stay and unpack to calm down. I’ll head down to be with them. Come down when you’re ready okay?” He nodded. I walked past him, until he stopped me and grabbed my hand. He brought me close for another kiss. We pulled apart, and he smiled at me. “I’ve got this,” he said, more to assure himself. I nodded. “You’ve got this.” 

I walked downstairs and began to talk with my family. No one had mentioned much about Saeyoung yet, we mostly talked about them and what I had been doing. About half an hour later, I got a text from Saeran. I pulled out my phone to read it. 

Saeran: Saeyoung just called me for 15 min. He needs help 

(Y/N): is everything okay?? 

Saeran: You tell me. He just complained abt how nervous he was and I told him to suck it up

(Y/N): i know he’s nervous...seeing saeyoung stutter like that was not normal. I’ll go check on him, sorry 

Saeran: not your fault. Is there anything else you can do to calm him down so he’ll stop calling? 

(Y/N): idk, I tried everything. 

(Y/N): whatever u did worked, he’s coming down. 

I put my phone away and smiled at him. He gave me a small thumbs up before sitting next to me. After a few minutes, he joined the conversation, relaxing more as he spoke. Soon he was making everyone laugh. A few hours passed and we were all sitting down to eat. While Saeyoung was relaxing more, I was growing more nervous. The dinner table. There’s no escaping it, they’re going to ask about us. We began to eat, and soon my fears came true. 

“So Saeyoung, how did you meet (Y/N)?” my sister asked, looking at me. She knew this would be the last thing I wanted to talk about, so of course she was sure to quickly bring it up. 

“Oh, well, we met at a club meeting I guess in school. I was walking home from a meeting when (Y/N) came up to me and pretended to know me, before she told me she was afraid she was being followed. So me, being the gentleman that I am, decided to walk her home. I thought she was cute, so I got her number and we started dating,” Saeyoung lied. He turned to smile at me, I gave a slight smile back. 

“We told you not to walk in the dark alone (Y/N),” my mom scolded. 

“Yeah I know,” I mumbled, before putting more food in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to speak. 

“So what do you do for a living?” my dad asked. Saeyoung tensed, but then calmed down just as quickly. I had no idea what he was going to say, turns out it was the truth. 

“Well, I was working as a hacker, but I quit about a month ago. I’ve been looking for somewhere new to work. A friend of ours is a CEO now, and has offered me a job there that I’m considering,” Saeyoung told them. 

“A hacker?” my brother asked. Saeyoung nodded. “Isn’t that kinda dangerous?” he asked. 

“Honestly, it was dangerous. I ended up quitting because I didn’t want to put (Y/N) or Saeran in any danger,” he replied. 

“Cool,” my brother said. 

“Saeran?” my mother questioned. 

“Saeran is Saeyoung’s twin brother,” I answered her question. I knew Saeyoung needed a break from all the truth-telling. 

“Oh, any other family?” she asked. Shoot. I don’t know how much Saeyoung wants to tell. I looked at him and he nodded. I looked back at him confused, he really trusts me to tell them whatever? He nodded. Fine then. 

“Saeyoung left home when he was young, in order to protect his brother. His mother was abusive and his father is in a position of power and threatened if anyone found out he had children. So no, he basically just has Saeran now,” I told them. I looked at Saeyoung. 

“I left in order to make a living for us, which is how I got into hacking. I had to do it without my father noticing in order to be safe. I’ve never met him. A man helped me get out of the house and told me he would help Saeran. That ended up being a lie, so Saeran was upset with me for years thinking that I had left him to die. (Y/N) helped me find Saeran and rebuild our relationship,” Saeyoung concluded, adding more details that I thought he wouldn't want to share. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” my mother said quietly. 

“Don’t be. The past is the past, besides, now I have both my brother and my fiance,” Saeyoung smiled. Oh no. I watched as each member of my family stop eating in horror. I didn’t tell them we were kinda engaged. It was dead silent, and the air was thick. I heard a fork drop onto a plate. My sister looked over at me and her jaw dropped. My brother’s looked down, not wanting to get involved. I looked at Saeyoung, and his eyes grew. He didn’t mean to slip that in. My dad broke the silence first, which I was thankful for. My dad was surprisingly the more easy going one in the family. 

“Fiance?” he asked. I avoided his eyes and nodded. “That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you two.” I looked up in shock. He didn’t care. 

“I was not expecting that,” my sister stated. “You’re serious? When did this happen?” My anxiety was skyrocketing, and Saeyoung could tell so he quickly answered. 

“A few months after we started dating, we haven’t started planning anything yet, and probably won’t for a while. But yes, we are engaged. I’ve never been so happy to have anyone in my life,” Saeyoung answered. An awkward silence grew, no one really knew what to say after the news. We weren’t going to tell them, we were going to wait and then fake an engagement. I guess it’s not faked since we are engaged, but we would make it look like it happened later. Eventually, someone spoke up and changed the conversation. Everyone avoided talking about Saeyoung and I’s relationship, which was a blessing. After the dinner, we all cleaned. I was stuck with my mom doing dishes, so I got an earful about my newly announced engagement. I didn’t dare tell her that the ‘after a few months’ thing was a lie. We knew we wanted to be together after the first RFA party, we just made it official a few months after. As upset as my mom was, she eventually accepted that I was indeed going to marry Saeyoung. The rest of the day went smoother. Everyone kind of avoided the subject as we watched a movie and played games. Eventually, we headed our separate ways in the house for bed. When I got to my room I flopped on my bed and sighed. Saeyoung followed and closed the door. “That was a nightmare,” I told him. I felt Saeyoung flop next to me on my bed. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry that was all my fault. It just slipped,” Saeyoung apologized. 

“It’s okay, they would have found out eventually,” I told him. 

“Do you think they hate me?” he softly asked. I quickly sat up, Saeyoung slowly followed to look at me. 

“Why would you think that?” I asked. 

“Well, I completely screwed up introducing myself, then an hour later I was completely different and outgoing. Then I told them I’m a hacker, unemployed, have a screwed up childhood, and am now engaged to their daughter.” 

“I’m sure they don’t hate you, they’re probably just surprised. No one expected me, of all of us, to be the first to get engaged. Have you met me?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled and looked away. I could tell he was feeling insecure and upset. I suck with words so I did the only thing I could do. I tackled him in a hug. It knocked us over, so I was now on top of Saeyoung. I didn’t move. He eventually wrapped his arms back around me. We laid there for a while, until I felt that I got through to him. I sat up, put my hands on his face and looked him in the eyes. “It doesn’t matter what they think,” I told him. 

“But they’re going to be family, I don’t want them to hate me. I want to have, or be a part of a real family,” he confessed. 

“I know, but I also know my family Sae. I know that they don’t hate you. I’m sure by the time we wake up tomorrow, they all will have thought about it and will be fine. How could they not like you? You’re fun, caring, incredibly smart, you make me smile. You make me happy. Yes, your past was hard, but none of it was your fault, you did what you could. You’re literally incredible Sae. There’s no way they won’t love you. Most importantly, you are the only person that I love this much, and I want to spend my life with you. They know that now, and they’ll be okay with it, because it’s you that I want to be with. You don’t need to worry about them liking you. I know that they’ll get over it, and if they don’t you still have me. We’ll still get married and make our own family,” I told him. I leaned down and kissed him again. Saeyoung deepened the kiss, before pulling away. He looked on the verge of tears and I was worried I had upset him. 

“How?” he asked. 

“How what? How do I know they love you? Or how do-” 

“How did I get so lucky?” he interrupted. I froze. 

“You’re not that lucky. You’re just you, and I like that.” 

“Nope. You’re wrong. I don’t deserve you therefore I am lucky,” he argued. 

“No Saeyoung, you do stop saying that.” 

“It’s the truth,” he teased. 

“No it’s not. You’re a liar. If I say you deserve me then you do, that’s final.” I leaned back down to kiss him again. I felt Saeyoung's hands start to wander as he deepened the kiss. I didn’t want to ever stop feeling like this. His hand made its way down my back until it landed on my butt and squeezed lightly. I broke the kiss, or tried to. Saeyoung made sure to lightly bite my lip as I backed up. I looked at him. “You’re not that lucky Saeyoung Choi. My entire family is here,” I told him with a smile. He frowned. 

“You don’t care when Saeran is around,” he argued. 

“That’s completely different!” 

“How?” 

“Saeran basically lives in your basement. He only leaves for food, it’s like he lives in a different house entirely. There’s no way he’d hear or anything. Here, my sister is two rooms down, and my parents are literally next door,” I reminded him. He frowned at me and I watched him think. I noticed a gleam in his eye. 

“Who says Saeran doesn’t hear?” he whispered. My face dropped. I could feel how hard I was blushing. There’s no way… Saeyoung began to laugh. “I’m kidding (Y/N). It’s a bunker, there’s no way he could hear. Can’t we just be quiet here?” he asked. I pushed Saeyoung’s arm. 

“As much as I would love to, I’m not risking it here with them,” I told him honestly. 

“It could be fun though, like a little challenge,” he suggested. I shook my head. No way am I about to with my family in the next room, they’d be horrified. A smile grew on Saeyoung’s face. What is with him? He’s always respectful when I tell him no. “There’s always the car? We could go somewhere….” he suggested. I thought about it. It could work, no one would see or hear anything then. If anyone asked where we went, we could lie and say we got food. 

“Fine.” I agreed. Saeyoung quickly jumped up and grabbed his keys and wallet.

Hehe you can imagine the rest or whatever   

[renwritesstuff]

we are family

Day 4: we are family.

Describe or draw a familiar moment. Are they close, or estranged? Are they blood relatives, or family found with friends?

Two Traynors stared each other down, hands hovering over a small box. There were 5 empty shot glasses in a semicircle around them, flanking the pristine chess board between the pair.

Wiping her hands with a dish towel, Priya Suresh-Traynor pleaded with her family. “Dessert is almost ready, do you two have to do this now?”

“The fate of the galaxy depends on it, mum,” Samantha Traynor mumbled back, not breaking eye contact with her father.

“You heard the kid,” Geoffrey Traynor seconded with a lazy smile. “I need to know my little sprog‘s mind hasn’t gotten soft since she’s been away.”

“Soft?? Did you miss the part where I kicked Polgara T’Suza’s arse across the Citadel?”

“Vid or it didn’t happen.”

What are you, five??

...God, I wish I had a vid. Are there vids? I wonder if I can ask for one...

“I have a trophy proving it happened. And a witness.” Sam’s eyes flitted over to the witness in question, her gaze narrowing.

Commander Annelise Shepard held her glass of red wine in surrender. Her voice came out wet and shaky from her fresh sip. “She’s—” Shepard patted her chest from the cough. “—She’s correct. She electrocuted that asari good.” 

And got a shower as a prize.

That narrow challenge in her eyes switched to panic as Sam glanced back at her father, who was tsking in disapproval. “Neuro-feedback chess? ...Sammy. You didn’t.”

The Comms Specialist scowled. “I didn’t choose it, it was part of the tourney rules. Usually, yes, I have slightly more integrity.” Unless I really want to win, that is. “It was just a lark, father.”

“Well as long as it was on a lark you buried that smug asari, I guess you’re forgiven. ...still can’t top your Dad at 5-Shot Speed Chess though, I bet.” The older man blew on his knuckles theatrically and gave them a wiggle before resuming his position at the worn speed clock.

Oh, you’re on.

“Oh, you’re on.”

Priya gave an apologetic smile at Shepard, who had taken up perch at the kitchen counter partition. The bar seat next to her was empty, waiting for Sam to return from her tense game. The matriarch of the Traynor family was busy at the stove stirring the simmering pot of kheer on one burner while checking a boiling sugary syrup on another. The warm kitchen filled with the scent of Indian spices and jasmine rice bled over into the prefab living room area.

“I wish I could lie and say something like ‘they aren’t usually like this,’ but…” Priya shrugged and smiled fondly at her husband as the game began. The speed clock snapped with each hit as the older and younger Traynor dove into an intense exchange of pieces. “It’s actually a tradition when Sammy comes home.” She paused before clarifying. “A tradition since Sammy was proper drinking age, mind you.”

Annelise smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Sighing, Priya tapped away her Omni-tool where a reverse countdown timer could be seen by Shepard. “I think it was One-Shot Speed Chess back then,” she admitted. “I swear we were a classy family at some point. ...I can’t recall when, precisely, but I assumed we had to have bumbled into it somewhere in the last 25 years.”

“I’m 26, mum,” Sam reminded loudly as she slapped the clock once more.

“We were definitely classy when you were one, sprog,” Priya snarked back. “I mean, you weren’t because you just ate and shat all day, but Geoffrey and I were newlyweds and still extremely classy.”

“Muuuuuuum!” 

Oh my God do we have to talk about me shitting my diaper in front of Shepard???

Annelise failed to hide a staccato of exhale-laughs behind her wine glass, amused by the exchange.

Oh my God why did we come here?

...Oh shit Dad almost had me there.

Oh shit are they doing this on purpose? Working together against me??

Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!

Sam had to do a few lazy blinks to push back the swimming in her head and vision. Those shots were creeping in fast aided by a full stomach of naan and saag paneer. But she resumed focus on the game at hand, giving the clock another slap as she nudged her white bishop in an offensive position.

“So, Comm—Annelise,” Priya fumbled slightly. “What are your parents like?”

Mum. Did you not watch any ANN profiles? 

Shepard’s sip of wine was casual, unruffled by the question. “Couldn’t tell you. Both gone. Mom when I was four from eezo poisoning, Dad when I was thirteen. Fire in our apartment building.”

What could have been a very awkward silence was instead filled with Priya’s empathetic tongue cluck (honed from years of practice as a registered nurse). “You poor thing. Too much life experience forced onto someone so young.” Her vigorous stirring motion never wavered. “Not to mention the life of a marine on top of all that. What a hand this universe deals us, hm?”

“Indeed,” Annelise agreed. She smiled sadly, her eyes inward as though weighing something. “This reminds me of the dinners I had with my brother and dad.”

Oh? Samantha’s head tilted so she could hear better. Her father was closing in on one corner of the board, but her queen sprang into a hole in his defenses.

“Oh?” Priya asked, echoing Sam’s own curiosity.

Nodding, Annelise rotating the now empty wine glass in her hand. “Dad wasn’t much for cooking, but John loved it. He loved grilling and barbecue. He’d usually save some of his courier paycheck for a good cut of meat at the store and try out different seasonings.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I bet he would have loved your cooking.”

“I fear I know the answer, but where is ...John?” At Shepard’s nod, Priya continued. “Where is John now?”

Oh no.

Should have given your folks some notes, Traynor.

I didn’t think it was my tale to tell!

How are you this bad at relationships, Traynor??

“Also gone, right before Dad. Car accident.” Annelise chewed her cheek a moment. “You know, before the Skyllian Blitz, I thought I was pretty unlucky based on all that.”

“And now?”

“Well, everything’s kind of a shit show, so jury’s out on that.” Annelise looked over at Sam, who was getting louder and more erratic with her clock taps. “But lucky in other ways.”

“Oh good answer, love!” Priya crowed, snapping the towel in Annelise’s direction. “A for effort, superbly charming response.” Her Omni-tool started beeping, signaling the woman to pull the pot of rice milk off the burner and set it aside to cool before turning her attention to the syrup. “What were three favorite things your brother cooked?”

An exhale deep through Shepard’s nose as she held her chin in her hand. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about that in ages.” She nodded at Priya’s silent pantomime offer to refill her wine glass. “He loved ribeye steak. Kind of fatty for me, and too damn expensive, but… I dunno, I liked it because he liked it so much.”

Aw. Sam felt a pang of longing for Shepard. There was a fondness to the woman’s tone that didn’t come up often. 

How often does Commander Bloody Shepard have a moment to think about her family? Or talk about them?

We should work on that, Traynor.

Geoffrey piped up regarding one of his favorite subjects. “Good man! Good cut of beef. What temperature?” He pointed a finger at Annelise as though calling on a student in one of his classes.

“Medium rare.”

“Good man indeed,” Geoffrey agreed as he slapped the timer one more time. White and black sides pieces were dwindling as lines of attack thinned out.

“Let’s see, what else… He actually did a spiced mutton I really liked. Sometimes lamb. Both were dirt cheap for awhile in Seattle before the drought, so he made a lot of it.” Annelise smiled as she accepted a small round poor of kheer, a sprinkling of ground nuts on top. “Oh, and his ribs were to die for. John had this dry rub mixture he spent months tinkering with. Took damn near eight hours to cook, but worth it.”

Geoffrey exchanged a look with his wife before cutting back to the game. Priya nodded.“Oh we love lamb in this house. One of the many reasons we applied for colony life. No more ration stamps from those artificial trade wars with the Volus, and all our farming sustainable and available direct to the colony first.” Priya fired up her Omni-tool. “I have a lot of great lamb recipes if you’re—goodness! I haven’t asked how your cooking chops fare?”

Nudging a pawn over to take Sam’s knight, Geoffrey jibed. “A loaded question, dear. We all know our Sammy is completely dependent on Alliance-provided cafeteria food. How she survived four years at Oxford is a complete mystery. She should have either ended up three hundred pounds from eating rubbish or died of scurvy.”

Hey!

“You talk a lot of shit, old man, for someone who just got checked. And it’s called a dormitory meal plan, I’ll have you know. I had three square meals.”

I just probably didn’t drink water the entire time. All booze or energy drinks.

“Of cafeteria food, further proving my point. Also, check.”

Ugh. Also, what?

That exhale-laugh from Annelise almost pulled Sam away from her last ditch strategy. The Commander extended her own Omni-tool. “I’d love the help. While I can survive on a remote moon with just a knife and a canteen, I don’t prefer to. I did undercover work for a year after graduating N7, so we had to learn how to be human again. Cooking included. Some of it even some fancy five course meals meant to impress targets.”

“So you know where all the forks go and what they do?” Samantha asked, slapping the timer. “Check.”

“I definitely do.” Those green eyes glittered with mirth.

“Oooh, be still my heart.” Sam shot a finger-gun at her girlfriend.

Priya made some flicking motions with her fingers before an answering ping from Shepard’s wrist. “Well, here are some of Sammy’s favorites. Someone should have them, since the pride of my life can’t make toast.” 

“Hey!”

“I also made note of some of the ones with Sammy’s allergies.”

Annelise flicked through the holo screen, studying the recipes. “Curry, shellfish, and peanuts, right?”

You forgot public speaking and losing at chess to my father.

Sam’s mother clutched her heart theatrically. “You know! Oh Geoffrey, did you hear? Sammy trusted her with shellfish, darling!” Priya poured a ladle full of the syrup over a small pyramid of large cake-like balls that had been chilling in a dish. She brought the dish over to the pair of competitors whose game was nearing completion.

“Check! And I did, love! It seems our Samantha is serious about this one! ...or her commanding officer looked at her file.” He grinned at his daughter before reaching for one of the gulab jamun.

Scowling, Sam slapped his hand away from the bowl before slapping the speed clock again. She could feel a heat rising in her neck and jaw (hopefully it was just the alcohol). “No dessert til we finish the game! And check!” 

After a tentative bite, Annelise dug into the bowl of sweet kheer with enthusiasm. “I mean, you’re not wrong, sir. But I had the decency to act surprised when she finally told me. How was that again, Samantha?” 

Oh sonabitch.

“When we went out on a date in public for the first time and I stole a bite of your lobster roll and my throat closed and we had to go to the med center.”

Both of her parents barked her name at the same time. “Samantha Karuna Traynor!” Her father added, “You always were a sucker for lobster despite never learning your lesson. And check.”

“It was worth it!” Sam squawked. “It was delicious! Also: check mate!” The pawn she’d been nudging forward that her father ignored got promoted to a rook and was now perfectly positioned to box in his king. 

Geoffrey stared at the change of fortune, dismayed and swaying a little in his chair. The shots were clearly taking hold. He tipped his king over in surrender, bowed his head at his daughter, and grabbed the topmost gulab jamun. 

Samantha joined him with a second ball, the syrup coating dripping slightly. They raised their desserts in salute before taking a big bite.

Mouth full, Sam grinned up at Shepard who was standing next to her chair. “I had you there to rescue me, darling. I knew I’d be all right.”

“I hope that’s always the case,” Annelise smiled back as she kissed Sam’s forehead. 

Before she slowly dropped down to one knee.

[incoherentbabblings]

Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (7/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Ao3 Link Here!

“Hey…” Tim said, still lying on the floor.

“Dude!” Conner’s voice came through, exuberant. “Bart you were right! He did answer!”

Bart’s high-pitched giggle ran straight through Tim’s bones. It cut off abruptly as he processed Conner’s incredulity.

“Why do you guys always think my plans are bad?”

“Shush.” Cassie’s voice also drifted in. Tim must have been on speakerphone. “Tim… what is going on? Like… is this for real?”

“No way.” Said Conner. “You would have told us. It’s gotta be fake. Weird fake, but fake.”

“…It’s not fake.”

“Pardon?” Bart asked, being awfully polite. “Why didn’t you keep us in the loop? Or are you channeling Batman this month?”

“It had to be real. Like super real. No heroes, no nothing.”

“Bullshit, Tim.” Conner’s tone was fond, but a little exasperated. “Kara’s been on my ass about it too. Some of us have secret ids yaknow. No metas in Gotham rule aside, we could help?”

“I mean… it’s complicated. There’s a bunch of murders recently.”

Cassie sounded worried. “We saw the news the other day. You and Stephanie were shot at?”

“…Yeah. Someone’s targeting brides who wear this designer. Steph and I were trying to make ourselves the next pair on the list… the guy botched it and shot Bishop Sherborne.”

“So… once Batman catches Mr Always the Bridesmaid Never the Bride… then what?” Asked Conner. “No more wedding, I guess. Which – yikes – bud. I’ve seen the stuff online. Some people are being brutal about this whole thing. You have too many fake engagements people aren’t gonna believe a real one after that.”

Cassie piped up again. “Not to mention Steph is gonna be thrown into limbo, right?”

Tim was silent as he listened to his friends. He couldn’t explain. This is why he didn’t tell them. They weren’t doing it intentionally, but they were setting off all his alarm bells. It seemed Bart heard something in the silence that the others did not, and asked, more than a little befuddled,

“Wait… you and Steph aren’t together together for reals are you? ‘Cause, you really should have told us! Like no bachelor party? Really? No me as your best man?”

Conner sounded very affronted when he cut in, “Eh. No. That’s me.”

“You can have a girl as your best man right?” Cassie pondered. “Nowadays? I’d be good at that…”

Tim rolled onto his front, utterly depressed. “I don’t know. Know what I wanted… Know what Steph wants…”

It seemed Tim’s sadness finally clicked in the minds of his friends, and Conner lowered his tone.

“You getting your heart broken bud?”

Tim’s eyes grew wet. “I can’t help her.”

“Help her how?”

Cassie began to shoo the other two away. “Let me speak to him. One to one.”

“I can still hear the phone you know.”

“Shut up, Conner. I don’t want you and Bart butting in.”

“Rude.” Bart chirped, but did as he was told. There was shuffling, and the sound of someone being kicked, but soon enough it was just Cassie on the other side of the phone.

“Can’t help her how?” She repeated Conner’s statement, and Tim heard him huff in the distance.

“We… we both want to be together.”

“That’s…that’s good Tim. Right? So, what’s the issue?”

Tim sneered. She wasn’t making it sound good. They just wouldn’t understand, but Tim continued to try.

“But she… I thought she was in a better place. I thought I was in a better place. But the stress is getting to her. She’s tired of being judged. And that’s all I can offer her.”

Cassie was quiet but full of conviction when she responded, “I don’t believe that.”

“No but…Cassie I’ve never seen her like this. Like she’s three steps away from jumping out the window. And that’s supposed to be me. I don’t know how to show her, that she doesn’t need to be frightened. That other people don’t matter. People just aren’t coming on side, not entirely. Not even her helping Bishop Sherborne when he died was enough. And she’s losing her drive.”

“Could you…” She mused it over. “Have you got an event coming up?”

“The engagement party.”

“No, no. Something smaller. Something about your job. Something you could share with her. Show her she doesn’t need to be afraid to share a life with you. Start small to build back up confidence. Steph’s…she’s a little rough round the edges.”

“She’s from Gotham.”

“Exactly. But the more she does that sort of stuff with you, the more people will get to know her and that squidgy centre you talk about. I mean those engagement photos were beautiful.” Tim burned red. Of course, they had seen them. “And I want her red dress more than life itself, but that’s not her. Not you really either. You both do stuff outside of nightwork… do that stuff together y’know?”

Stephanie had asked him about his work. She had asked several times in fact. She had been on multiple visits to his office, watching as he went through conference calls, reports and other dry white-collar work whilst she sat with her college notes spread around her. She herself had said she was interested in what he did. Tim blinked, a plan coming together.

“…Thank you, Cassie.”

“My pleasure.” She said, sounding smug. “Is she there with you now?”

“No… we… we had an argument. She’s gone to cool off on patrol.”

Conner pinched the phone then. “Not to sound judgy, but man… she’s got a temper. And you said when she gets angry, she gets stupid.”

Defensiveness replaced depression, and Tim’s tone became a warning. “Conner.”

“I’m just saying. Think you should go find her.”

“She’s competent Kon.”

“…Sure.”

It was very difficult to not take an imagined slight to Stephanie as a slight against himself. “What’s that mean?”

“Listen, dude—”

A frantic beeping from his phone interrupted Conner. It was the distress signal of Batgirl, one that she did not ring often, or ever, and Tim’s heart stopped.

No. No. No.

“Have to go.”

“Wait –”

“It’ll be over in two weeks so bear with the radio silence.”

“Huh? Dude don’t shut us out after –”

“Bye.”

And he hung up, then rushed downstairs.

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

She had fallen, because if Stephanie suspected of how she would die, it would be from gravity being a bitch. Some bastard had shot at her, she had jumped to avoid it, then collapsed through the roof – rotten wooden beams giving way under her weight. She had crashed down with a horrendous smack, and likely had a concussion. Her neck had snapped in such a way that left her terrified to move her head. Her leg felt damp. Struggling, she pressed her little beacon. Someone would be on their way soon. Outside the building, she heard that man whooping in victory, trying to figure out a way in.

She was in over her head. She wasn’t paying attention. And now she was in agony on the dirty floor of some shithole in Gotham, a murderous drug lord wanting a piece of her.

Wow, she really was spiralling down.

And somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to blame Tim. He hadn’t caused these issues. He’d been honest with her, given her multiple opportunities to back out. And she had hurt him, in every manner of speaking. Even if he had been putting her under pressure… she didn’t…

She didn’t even blame Bruce, who was only trying to protect people, and entrusting his family to help him do so.

Her issues were hers and hers alone. Maybe she’d never really dealt with them, maybe she’d never really worked her way through them. Maybe she just buried it all. Ignore it, and it will go away.

She wasn’t sure how long she was left alone on the floor, safe from the man outside, but however long it was, it wasn’t enough for her to get back on her feet. Her head lolled on the ground, and she tried to push herself up. Keep moving, that’s all she had to do. She’d been through worse and coped. She only managed to get onto her hands and knees when someone grabbed her blonde hair and ripped her back, making her cry out in shock. Her neck clicked oddly. Her left leg limply dragged across the floor, leaving red streaks behind her, whilst the right spasmed, trying to get a footing so she could kick herself upright and punch the bastard, but her head injury was disorientating her beyond being of any use.

“Can’t believe it’s that easy to take out one of you lot.” The cold feel of a pistol pressed against her jaw. If fired, it wouldn’t kill her immediately. This guy wanted her to hurt.

No. She had to apologise to Tim. She had to… She had too…

She had no time to prepare a snarky comeback, because one of the family’s hook shots had rammed itself into the guys arm. He shrieked, hand dropping the gun and her hair, allowing her to roll away into the corner to get a better look at her leg.

She looked up, to see Tim, fully dressed as Red Robin amongst the rotting rafters, angrier than she had seen him in a long time.

She got caught between sharp relief and guilt. Tim had come for her. Dutiful, loyal, Tim.

Letting her head thump against the floor, Stephanie flittered in and out of consciousness.

Tim, meanwhile, had lost his temper.

He knew he was a bit overprotective of Steph. He also knew she was competent. She had been through a lot with and without him, and as Batgirl had saved Gotham multiple times over. He wasn’t a white knight coming to rescue the damsel, but something feral would be set off seeing her in danger. Didn’t matter if he was fifteen or twenty, someone hurting her, someone touching her, was enough to set him off.

It wasn’t like with Captain Boomerang, where everything was calculated, cold and methodical. Steph was hurt, Tim had the means to make the man who did it hurt.

And hurt him Tim did.

Stephanie watched most of it, not really in the right frame of mind to do anything but watch. She wanted to call for him, pull him back to her. But then she would black out for a moment. When she would reawaken, any chance at orientating herself would be lost from the view in front of her.

Bones were meant to be inside limbs, right?

Tim’s torture continued until Dick yoinked him away.

“That’s enough. Okay? Don’t make the same mistake as me.”

Dick was home? The thought was enough to cause the red to fade, and for Tim to start to catch his breath. His stomach began to drop. He’d done something stupid?

No. Where was Stephanie?

Nightwing had him held in such a grip that was designed to allow Tim to break out if he wanted, but also jolt into him some semblance of what he was doing.

Tim blinked, then wriggled out of Nightwing’s hold. His brother looked more than a little white at the scene before him. Tim’s chest was heaving, and he could feel sweat dripping off his chin. Slowly he turned to see what damage he had done, then immediately looked away. He had done something stupid. And potentially murderous. For her. Again.

Stephanie had somehow pulled herself into a sitting position, one leg laying limply at an angle. She was breathing heavily, trying to control her body’s response to the pain. Her head was tilted, resting on her shoulder, as if it was too heavy for her neck to support.

“Batgirl…” And then Tim was at her side, looking for the injury in her leg. She hissed when he got close, but from what he could see, there was no fracture, only a puncture wound.

“Landed on the crates. Mother of all splinters..!” She felt her eyes rolling around, vision a blur, and grunted to herself. Play it off. It’s not serious. She hadn’t messed up. Not really, not as bad as before.

Her tone was deliberately light, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to smile. He had realised that his hands were wet and didn’t want to pick her up if he was going to smear her in more blood.

“I’m sorry.” She said, taking Tim away from his brooding. “I hit you. I shouldn’t have.” She looked like she was going to start crying, the pain in her leg and head coupled with the guilt seemingly too much. “I don’t want to hurt you and I did. I’m sorry.”

Tim wanted very much to pull back her cowl and stroke her hair, but restrained himself.

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way I did.”

“No but –”

He shushed her and she whimpered.  Shamefully, he gripped and wiped his hands on his cape, trying to make himself somewhat presentable, then very carefully, very gently, picked her up in a bridal hold. She cried out but reached up to wrap her arms around him.

Nightwing called both the police and an ambulance, staring at the dying man on the floor. Dick couldn’t do anything to help him, too many broken bones to even move him safely.

Tim watched Dick’s face grow cold.

“I’ll take her back to my apartment.” Tim said.

“No, you will not.”

Tim’s temper spiked again, though holding Stephanie he was unable to act on it as he would have liked. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

The signature sound of Batman’s cape fluttering, and the distant noise of sirens approaching, made the potential argument end.

“Nightwing, drive them both back to the Manor. Have Batgirl checked over.”

There was something very odd in Bruce’s tone that Tim wasn’t used to hearing, but it made him a little frightened.

“As said injured party member…” Chirped Stephanie, head craned back and straining her neck. “I feel like… I need a medical.”

“Hurry up!” Nightwing ordered, making his way to the batmobile. “You can drive my cycle but put Batgirl in the back.”

Four hours later, out of her costume and several stitches in her leg from where she had received the mother of all splinters, Stephanie’s head began to clear. She remembered Tim swooping down, and she remembered him hurting that man. Badly. Really badly. All because she lost her footing. All because she was in the wrong headspace to go out on patrol.

She was better than that. She knew she was.  

She stayed silent, but when Tim returned to her side, the two stared at each other for the longest time. Neither knew where to begin.

Bruce started it for them.

“Do I even need to say what went wrong tonight.” There was no question in his tone. Just a flat, tightly bound anger that Stephanie nearly whimpered at the sound of. She shook her head.

“I messed up. I let my emotions get in the way and I got hurt when it was easily avoidable.”

If Bruce was impressed by her self-awareness, it did not show. He turned to Tim. “And you?”

Tim said nothing. Only glared. Stephanie pressed her hands to her eyes, she wouldn’t be able to block out the sound of the oncoming argument, an argument that was her fault, but that didn’t mean she was going to watch it.

“Tim.” Bruce pushed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nightwing, who had been sat a little back from the whole scene, piped up. “You know that’s a sack of bullshit Tim.”

Tim’s ears burned red, and Bruce didn’t miss the look of betrayal on Tim’s face at his brother. Seemed like that look was all Bruce was seeing recently.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Tim repeated.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“This is just one more thing in a continuing dangerous trend with you and I have half a mind to –”

“I don’t answer to you anymore!” Tim was turning as red as his uniform, but Bruce would not be moved.

“You’re both grounded until the wedding is finished.”

Ordinarily, Stephanie would have fought back. Bruce was not the boss of her. Even Babs barely counted as a mentor anymore. Not really. She was her own keeper, and Bruce attempting to parent her was just an embarrassing effort at best.

Now, with her hands pressed over her eyes, blind to anyone’s expressions, she nodded her consent.

“Promise.” She warbled.

Tim on the other hand, was in the mood to fight. He was so wound up from the day’s events, with no outlet, that it poured out of him defiantly. His voice cracked childishly.

“No! No, no! She didn’t do anything wrong and her injury isn’t even that bad!”

Dick watched Tim grow increasingly frustrated and frowned. What the hell had he missed the past six weeks? Bruce was going to return in kind with an equal aggression that would only serve to blow the roof off the cave, so Dick decided it was his turn to intervene. He got up and shoved past Bruce, physically grappling Tim and dragging him away from Stephanie. Bruce could cool down for a moment and talk to the crying girl. He’d try to give Tim a reality check.

When they reached the stairs, Tim wriggled out of Dick’s grip, eyes still on Stephanie, but his anger was directed straight at Dick.

“What do you think you’re—”

Dick grabbed Tim’s arm again, shaking him, making Tim look at him. “I think Tim, you’ll be needed to look after Steph. Yeah?”

“I don’t need to be grounded to do that. I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m not being punished for something I didn’t do!” Tim protested, tugging back to remove Dick’s hand from his arm. Dick huffed, feeling Tim was letting his ego get in the way of the point he was trying to make.

“I really don’t care about that. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re both off kilter. Take a break. Look after each other.”

“I am not –”

“Tim look at her!” Dick hissed. Bruce had moved over to Steph’s side, and sat next to her. Tim watched as the two talked.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, voice somewhat softer.

“I… I’m having a bit of a freak out at the moment.” It was an odd thing for her to confess to Bruce of all people, but he seemed to be listening. “The whole… pretending to be in love mission is throwing me off more than I thought it would.”

“Pretending?”

“Oh God…” She moaned. Where did Bruce get off sounding so confused? What did he even think of her and Tim as a couple? Were they that transparent in their pining? “I’m finding it emotionally taxing.”

Always easier to be flippant. Say exactly what you mean, but hide it under a layer of sarcasm as a back door exit in case the sincerity of the statement was called into doubt. Bruce did not doubt her. Instead, he asked her something else.

“Can you keep going?”

“I swore to.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Then Bruce leaned forward, grabbing her wrist. He tugged it away from her face so she wasn’t hiding her eyes. At the look she gave him, so tired and sad, his grip moved down to her hand, and she squeezed back.

“I can keep going.” She sniffed, her bodily pain catching up with her miserable mood. “Not gonna lie, Batman… I feel like I’m slipping back into bad habits.”

“That’s why I said no patrol.”

“I know.”

“You going to listen?”

She nodded. “No Batgirl for a couple of weeks…Promise.”

“At the very least you can catch up on sleep a bit.” It was meant to be reassuring, but Bruce’s claim made Stephanie snort a gentle laugh. “And work on whatever is troubling you.”

Stephanie’s smile faded. “I can try. That’s all I can do at the minute. I’ll fix it.”

“Okay. I’ll get Alfred to give you a painkiller to help put you down tonight.” Bruce looked to Tim, who was in the corner with Dick. He looked equally miserable but chewed his lip and walked back over.

“I want to take you back to the apartment, Steph, if you want me to. I’ll take a couple of weeks off with you.”

She nodded. “I want that. Lemme get my drugs first.”

Bruce’s eyes hardened a little as he inspected Tim, who was stubbornly avoiding his gaze. Their conversation would have to wait. Once dosed up, Stephanie wrapped her arms around Tim’s shoulder, and hoisted herself up so she could hop over to his car.

“Goodnight Bruce…thank you.”

His mouth twitched, but with what emotion, Stephanie couldn’t tell.

When they got back, Stephanie managed to get settled on the bed. Tim promised to stay up with her to ensure she wouldn’t pass out with nobody to check on her. She lay like her limbs were made of lead, her head resting on a pile of pillows trying to support her neck.

“I’ll be okay. Alfred said since I can hold a conversation and my pupils are normal, I’ll be fine.”

“Your pupils are not fine. They’re as big as dinner plates.”

“That’s the painkillers.”

“I know… I just…”

She smiled. “You worry.”

“Yeah.”

She looked down at her hands, wringing them together. Her fingers on her right hand settled on her engagement ring, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry Tim, for everything. The argument and the hitting and me being a brat for weeks…You don’t… you don’t deserve any of this.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way I did. And I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.” He fought back.

“No…not really.” She wrung her hands. “There’s no excuse. I’m better than this… better than my dad.”

“You’re not your father.”

Stephanie nodded in response. He thought she believed him.

Tim, who up until this point had been standing on the other side of the room, moved to sit on the bed. He was facing away from her, but Stephanie could see both of their faces in his mirror. The guilt that was rippling across his face was hard to watch, so she stared straight forward instead, looking at the fat yellow duck at the foot of the bed. Tim saw her do so, and his fingers curled up in the bed sheets.

“Can we get some things out in the open? Like, brutally honest out in the open?”

“Interrogating someone whilst their high on painkillers? Sure. But can I start?” She asked. Tim screwed up his nose and nodded. Stephanie kept her eyes on the duck. “Why did you hurt that man so badly?”

Tim’s palms became sweaty, and he nervously wiped them down his sweatpants.

“He hurt you.” He offered lamely.

“No. This was… this was different.”

“It is related to why Bruce and I don’t get on much in the suits anymore.”

Understatement. She didn’t know what he’d done. She couldn’t know…

“You think you have to be that harsh? Your fighting is getting colder and crueler. I worry…”

“What I was doing before wasn’t working. I’m not Jason. Not that far gone. But I’m not… not the same person I was when I was fifteen, Steph.”

Please don’t abandon me for it.

Stephanie shifted, creeping out from under the covers. She curled up behind him, her sore leg still stretched straight, and then reached around so she could link their fingers. She was smiling a little dopily, and Tim would have found it sweet if he could have gotten the day’s events out of his head.

“Look at us. You’d think we’ve been through some traumatic things the past few years.”

Tim raised his eyebrows at her teasing. “Weird that.”

Steph laughed, though it sounded a little slurred to his ears.

“You know, I figured out a long time ago. Why I love you.” She whispered conspiratorially, begging Tim to play along. Eventually she would conk out, drugs and injuries tiring her out too much to stay conscious, but Tim let her take the conversation off track. Her breath and hold were so warm it was nearly feverish. She had seen him nearly murder a man, but then she had let him pick her up with blood stained hands, and she now held his fingers like nothing was wrong. Maybe the pair of them were beyond help, but Tim couldn’t give up the idea of a happy life for Stephanie. Preferably with him in it but…he wasn’t too picky.

“Why?” He muttered.

“You’re so gentle. So gentle. No other guy I know comes close to it. And, yeah, at first, I was infatuated with you because oh so cool Robin, so brave, so smart… but when you stayed with me despite the pregnancy… I don’t know how to put it… you have a giant brain and a giant-er heart. I don’t care about how well you can hurt people. That’s never been part of it. And I believe you’ve never enjoyed that bit of superheroing. Knowing you had come for me, that made me feel safe, that was all I needed. Watching you nearly kill that man…”

“I panicked.” He confessed. “You’d left on such shaky terms and then your beacon went off and all I could see was red. I was so upset.”

“I was frightened for what you would do. For a second.”

Her stating her worry seemed to almost traumatise Tim. An uncomfortable length of time passed as he worked through what she said in his head. Stephanie didn’t know him. She didn’t love him. Not who he was. Not really. That violence was part of him now. She said she knew him, but with who he was now staring her right in the face, she did not want it to be true.

She leaned closer, her breath a warm whisper against his neck. “I told you. I won’t let you forget. Especially seeing that violence tonight. I promise Tim. That’s not you.”

He choked a little when he responded, trying to play it down and play it off.

“I try not to think about it. The moment I do for too long, I’ll believe Bruce is right to be worried.”

“Nah. He’s just being a dad.”

A long moment of silence passed. Stephanie continued to play with Tim’s fingers whilst she did nothing but think through the day’s events. Finally, she pressed her forehead against the back of his neck, against the burn scar he had received what felt like so long ago.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you love me? Actual quantifiable reasons.” She shifted behind him, uttering more to herself than him, “Gimme an ego boost.”

Tim answered immediately, “Because you’re brave. Because you refuse to accept your lot in life. Because you’re beautiful. Because you came back to Gotham when you had every right to leave forever. Because somehow, after everything he’s done to you, you don’t hate your dad.”

“Don’t like him either.”

She didn’t respond to any of his other points. She was trying to accept them as truth, as Tim had yet to lie to her for all of this hellish two months. But something just prevented her from absorbing it. That wasn’t her. Or maybe it had been.

“Not the same thing.” Tim sighed and leaned back. The way she was sat meant his head thunked on her collarbone. “Steph? You’re a good person. Even if you doubt it sometimes. Reason enough.”

Steph’s breath washed over Tim, smelling of the medicine she had slurped down earlier.

“I hurt you.”

“Remember when I throttled you and kicked you in the stomach?”

“That was different.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m a big boy and can handle an argument here and there. This pity party, Steph… it helps no-one. Speaking from experience here.” Tim’s mind drifted back to his conversation earlier. “I have an idea. Well, Cassie suggested it actually.”

“You spoke to the Titans.” There was a flat curiosity in her tone. It wasn’t aggressive, just resigned.

“They’re getting sick of being ignored. Don’t think embarrassment is going to cut it as an excuse anymore.” Tim watched as Stephanie looked away, ashamed from being chided. “Listen. I want you to come with me to do some stuff for work.”

“What stuff?”

“Tomorrow I’m visiting the community centre down the road. There’s an after-school club for kids whose parents work crazy hours. We funded the renovations and pay a few members of permanent staff. It’s just a fluffy photo op, but you might enjoy it more than anything else I do for my job.”

“How old are the kids?”

“Middle school and down.”

She sat still and thought it through. Tim sighed. “Listen. You once told me that I was going to drive myself mad one day.”

“You are going to drive yourself mad one day.”

“Why?”

She huffed, already knowing what angle he was playing. “Because you worry too much and have overly controlling tendencies when left unchecked.”

“…Yeah. Sure.” He tried not to sound too resentful as she relayed his flaws so dispassionately. “So, where’s Miss “The Only Variable You Can Control Is Yourself”? Huh?” Tim nudged her jaw with his forehead, causing her to grumble. “You do you, Steph. The rest will fall into place. Come with me to this event. Play some foosball with kids.”

She screwed her eyes shut, and Tim watched her at the awkward angle. Finally, her internal battle ended, and she nodded her head.

“It’s another thing for the job if nothing else.”

“I’m not asking you to do it for the mission.” Tim breathed. He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. “I mean it’s a side perk sure, but I just want it to remind you that you’re not a bad person.”

Stephanie finally pulled away, back under the covers of the bed. Her eyes were wet.

“I’m maybe not a bad person but I am a mess. Don’t know why you put up with me.”

“That’s okay.” And Tim crawled over to her. Being unbearably tender, he pulled all of her hair to one side and began to braid it, hoping it would help her sleep better than her usual tangled mop allowed. A sudden memory occurred to him, and he smiled absentmindedly. “You’re worth a few stomach ulcers.”

She looked at him suspiciously at his weird statement, handing him a hair tie from her wrist as he worked his way down. “I haven’t changed my mind. About what I said. I’m not emotionally ready to be with you. Not strong enough yet.”

“Do you want to be?” He asked, tone light, trying to not pressure her too much. He finished tying off the braid with an exaggerated snap of the elastic.

“With you?”

“Mm.”

“I do, Tim.”

“Then I’ll wait. After this mission is finished, we can… start from scratch again. Take it slow.”

“…I like the sound of that.”

“And in the meantime…” He got under the covers next to her. “We work on one thing at a time. Like a checklist. Number one, sleep and work off that injury.”

“Tim…” She smiled, but it was brittle and fell very quickly. Tim stroked loose strands of hair away from her face, and she shut her eyes. “How do you know I’m not just using you? You could be with someone like Tam right now. Why stay for the promise of maybe?”

“Well, firstly, you don’t have a manipulative bone in your body.”

“That’s a lie.” Her voice was starting to slur. She was growing heavier and sleepier with each moment.

He quickly rebuffed her rebuttal. “Mmm? I don’t know about that. And secondly,” He rested his hand on her cheek. “I don’t want Tam, or anyone else. Just you. I want to be happy. So, I want to stay in Gotham. I want Bruce to get off my case. I want to help people. And I want… I want you. That’s all. Think that’s…pretty standard for a guy in his twenties.”

Softly, slowly, Stephanie had moved closer and closer whilst Tim mused aloud. When they were sharing a pillow, Tim’s eyes drifted down to her lips again, and chewed his own nervously.

“You can kiss me.” She said, tone still flat. “If you want to. For real.”

“…Not good for you. You said. Once.”

“Once.”

But Tim knew she was only saying so to punish herself. He may have been sick in love with her, but he still wasn’t so far gone as to make out with someone who, as far as he knew, was still pretty high on painkillers.

Then their foreheads were touching, and Steph’s hands were burying into Tim’s hair. He felt awfully cruel when he did so, whilst knowing it was the right thing to do, but Tim reached down, under the sheets, and pushed four fingers into her stitches.

She shrieked, rolling away on to her back. Her cry turned into one of laughter, then she groaned, writhing a little under the sheets as the pain in her head and leg sharpened at the sudden movements.

“No funny business madam.”

Breathlessly, she grunted, nodding a little too fervently.

“Sure, sure.”

She was becoming that last stage of manic before the exhaustion caught up with her, so Tim tried to gently press down on her limbs, one by one, hoping to create a reassuring weight to help calm her down.

“Things will be better in the morning. You’ll see.” He laid back down, wrapping an arm around her, essentially making them spoon. His hand reached for hers, and he began to play with her ring. “Wanna take it off? To sleep?”

She shuffled backwards, until the curve of her spine pressed against his chest. “S’okay.” And then she yawned, nuzzling her way into the pillow.

They lay in comfortable silence for a long moment, before Tim reached back to turn off the lights. When his hand returned to hers, she called his name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy to her own ears, as she was half asleep when the thought came to her.

“Tim?”

“Mm?”

“You promise to wait for me? Just a bit longer?”

“Promise.”

She squeaked happily, then promptly began to snore. Gone. Tim chuckled, then closed his eyes.

[evabellasworld]

I Give You My Heart

Chapter 3

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

13+ and above for cursing and mild violence

——————————————————————————————

Summary:  When Riyo Chuchi’s life was threatened, Commander Fox and Jedi Knight Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young are assigned to bring the senator back to her home planet Pantora, where she will be safe from harm. But when the assassin knows her whereabouts, it’s up to Fox, Lira, Eva, and Riyo to work together and stop the assassin.

————————————————————————————-

Scratching below her chin, Riyo stared at the checkerboard as Fox glanced at her, tapping his fingers on the lamp table. She moved her eyes around the board and focused on his chess piece, which the queen. According to her knowledge, the queen is the most powerful piece in chess and could eliminate hers if she’s not careful.

Chess has always been a favourite game, especially when she’s playing with her parents. Her mother, who was descended from nobles, would emphasize the importance of playing chess and how it is applicable in life, especially law and politics.

“In your career, you must learn to study your opponents in order to push yourself to success,” Riyo recalled her advice. “If you give away your position, they will take advantage of you and pounce on you like feral dogs when they see the chance. That is the first rule of law and politics, never open up your vulnerabilities to others, no matter how nice they seem.”

It was ironic, really, because Riyo finds herself opening up to Commander Fox, despite her mother’s warning when she delved into politics. He was no politician, only a soldier bred for war. He doesn’t take bribes or cheat or even tell a lie just for his personal reasons. No, that’s not Commander Fox that Riyo knows. The Commander Fox that she knows was honourable, brave, and honest, and right now, he’s waiting for her next move in the game.

“Are you going to move or what?” Fox groaned, resting his face on his palms. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting for you to move your chess piece.”

“My apologies for keeping you waiting, Fox,” Riyo let out a chuckle as she moved her pawn sideways, taking the queen out of the game. Fox’s eyes widened as he watched Riyo placing his chess piece beside her on the lamp table, with the other pieces that she had taken from the board.

He grunted as he desperately counted his chess piece that was left on the board, with only his king, his knight, his bishop, and his rook spared, for now. Since this was the first time he’s playing this game with someone else, it’s no surprise to him that he would lose to a senator, who was born at the rice farm and was formally educated at a prestigious law school.

Despite that, Fox is determined to win this game, even when the outcome is not in favour of him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath as he pushed his rook forward, pushing away one of her pawns. “Your turn, senator,” he reminded her, giving her a cocky grin.

Riyo could only let out a mischievous grin as she moved her queen sideways, facing his king. “Checkmate,” she declared, making Fox’s smile disappear. “You should move your king to a safer place.”

Fox blinked and sighed sheepishly as he moved his king one step away from the queen, only for Riyo to gestured her head at his chess piece. “My rook is a few steps away from you.”

“Goddammit,” he whined as he moved his king to his right, only to notice her knight, that could ambush him in an L-shaped. Fox felt a drip of sweat on his forehead. With nowhere for his king to move on the board, the only thing he could do now was to admit defeat towards his opponent, who he also finds intelligent, something that most senators, besides Senator Amidala and Senator Organa. “Alright, Riyo, you won. Congratulations on your victory in chess.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she smiled to herself, as she placed the board away, adjusting her legs that are buried underneath a thin blanket. “You were good too, just need a bit more practice, yeah?”

“I guess you're right,” he got up, helping her to pack the board game for her since she needed plenty of rest from the blasts. “Anyways, how are you holding up so far? Good, bad, or neutral?”

“More on the bad side, unfortunately,” Riyo sighed. “I can't help but worry about my friends, especially Bibi. I want to wish that she was alright, but at the same time, I feel like she may not be able to make it through, considering the blast was...well, intense.”

Fox tightened his lips as he sat beside her and squeezed her hand, much to her delight. “I understand where you are coming from, Riyo, but worrying too much won't do any good to you. You need to relax if you want to get better as soon as possible.”

“I know, Fox,” she squeezed his hands back. “But I can't help it, especially since it was rather unexpected.”

“Yeah, it was. I didn't think that the assassin would be smart enough to put a bomb in the Senate building, especially if it's a tripwire, you know. We're trying to figure out how did that person snuck in, or how did they set the bomb, but so far, there was nothing.”

“It's a shame, huh? There are people willing to let go of their morals just to gain some credits, even when they know they are in the wrong.”

“Yeah, it is. I guess assassins and politicians are no different, except for their willingness to get their hands dirty. While bounty hunters and assassins would openly admit that they killed someone, senators cower when things don't go their way, no offense to you, Riyo.”

“None was taken, actually,” Riyo chuckled. “You have a good point there. It is unfortunate that those same senators who swore to serve their people are the ones who won't hesitate when they accept luxury gifts in exchange for selling off their soul.”

With all the talks of negativity between the both of them, Riyo felt like changing the subject instead just to ease her worries about Bibi, whom she heard she's in a critical condition from one of the nurses that served her with kindness. “Anyways, how are you and your siblings? I heard from Lip that your duty as a Coruscant Guard has expanded. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it has,” he nodded. “The Chancellor wanted us to take most of the Senate Guards' duty since there was a spread of corruption within their ranks.”

“I hope you are getting yourself a good rest, Fox,” she advised him. “Yves told me that she caught you dozing off in your office a few nights ago. Are you alright?”

“Well, the Chancellor gave me a massive pile of paperwork yesterday for me to complete them by this week. I ended up dozing while I was doing half of them, and then Yves woke me up.”

“Oh dear, please don’t overwork yourself, Fox. You need to rest if you want to perform well in your job.”

“I just can’t help it, Ri. If I don’t get all of my paperwork done, then I have to deal with the consequences of the Chancellor himself, and you know how he is.”

“He is particular in every paperwork we sent,” she sighed. “And if it's not perfect, he'll ask us to do it again, until he is satisfied with his answer. But he won't say it directly to your face, though, he would be-”

“Subtle about it,” he finished her sentence, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, I know how things work when it comes to the Chancellor.”

“At least he's tolerable, unlike most senators I've worked with.”

Fox doubted Riyo's words, but then again, she is a sentient being. The Chancellor puts on a charade and acts all nice to the senators and the Jedi, but when it comes to the Corrie Guards, well, things could have been worse for him and his siblings.

Before he could utter a word, his comlink beeped, prompting him to pick it up. “Lip, anything so far?”

“Sir, you have to get Senator Chuchi out of here,” the trooper warned him. “There is an assassin in his hospital.”

“What the-” Fox exclaimed, springing out from his seat. “Where is he?”

In a moment, there was a red dot pointed on Riyo's chest, prompting him to shield the senator in his embrace. The windows shattered as the wall was shot with a sniper rifle.

Riyo finds her breathing turning rapidly as she holds her grasps around Fox's arms, praying that she doesn't get hit by her killer-for-hire.

It felt like a second to be discovered and almost get her own life taken away. She could do nothing but to get herself to safety and hope for the best. But at the same time, she worries about Fox.

What if Fox gets himself killed while he catches the killer? She thought as she saw the nurses rushing inside her ward, wondering whether she is alright.

“The killer is in Level 39 of the Enterprise Tower,” Fox commed his troops. “All squad, set your weapon to stun and reprimand this suspect immediately.”

“What about you, Commander?” Riyo asked, addressing him by his rank.

“I'll be taking you to safety, Senator, now come on.”

[avengerscompound]

The Grind House - Chapter 3

The Grind House: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1406

Rating:  E

Square filled:  @buckybarnesbingo - B3 Pining, @marvelfluffbingo - Mutual Pining, @star-spangled-bingo - Mutual Pining

Warnings:  None for this chapter, future smut most likely

Synopsis:  When Bucky Barnes stops to get coffee and warm up at your coffee shop, he had just expected that caffeine might lift his mood a little. He didn’t expect to fall head-over-heels for you over a game of chess.

Chapter 3

It was weird to develop a crush on a customer after so few interactions.  It had happened before.  Not serious ones or anything, but there had been a few customers who’d come in almost daily that were consistently nice that you might have confused niceness for affection and started drawing your initials together inside hearts while you absentmindedly doodled on things.

This was different.  There felt like their might be something there.  Like these little interactions you’d had where you’d just talked while you were playing chess between serving customers were almost dates and you were unlocking more and more about each other and you really liked him.  Not knowing when he was going to show up again, or even if he would ever show up again, was slightly painful.  The second time he showed up and you ate your lunch with him you’d been really excited to see him.  You had expected that he’d maybe just not get the time and then forget about it.  Those things happened and he was a celebrity after all.

When he showed up today, just after the breakfast rush it felt like you heard lept into your throat.  You couldn’t have helped the smile that spread over your features if you wanted to.  He hung his coat on the hook and turned, smiling at you.

“Hey, Bucky,”  You said warmly.  The store was mostly empty now.  A group of college students was burning up your wifi as they worked on a group project at the largest table, each nursing a completely different drink, and there was a couple of tourists who had stopped in to warm up after not being quite prepared for the snow.  “You here to play?”

“If you aren’t busy,”  Bucky said coming over.

You gestured vaguely around the room.  “I think you’re safe.”  You joked.  He smiled a little.  A shy smile of a man who might be relearning how to do it.  It made sense that might be the case.  “What can I get you?”

“You said something about syrup?”

In the end, he’d ordered a caramel latte.  It was still a safe choice, but one that pushed the boundaries of his experience a little further.  He’d also ordered one of the large chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies.  You made his drink and one for you too and grabbed two cookies while Bucky set up the chess board.  Two more tourists came in while you were putting things on a tray and you served them before coming over to the table with everything.

You looked over the board and frowned.  “Hey, you took my knight.”  You said.

“Them’s the breaks.”  He said.

You chuckled and took a seat as you went over the potential moves.  Bucky took a sip of his coffee and looked at you.  “What the fuck?”

“What?  No good?”  You asked as you took his rook with yours.

“It’s so good.  Why have I been drinking black coffee so long?”

You shrugged and shook your head.  “With your sweet tooth?  I have no idea.”

He smiled and blushed a little.  Not much.  You could just see the pink reach above his beard line. “You noticed the sweet tooth?”

“How could I not?  You get the sweetest desserts each time.  It’s never just coffee.”  You said, grinning.

Bucky moved his rook next to his king to protect it and shook his head a little.  “Dunno where it came from.  Everything was so bland growing up.  Now I’m just like ‘give me all the sugar.’  Steve’s the opposite.  Likes things with flavor but if it’s too sweet or too spicy, he can’t take it.”

“That’s really interesting.  I know you have to kinda develop your palate.  But you poor sugar-starved thing.”  You said and moved your queen forward one space.

He laughed.  He rarely did that and it always made you feel extra soft.  “Yeah, gotta make up for lost sugar.”

A couple of customers came in and you got up to serve them.  Unfortunately, when you finished with them two more came in.  When you returned to your seat Bucky had finished his cookie and was down to only a quarter of a cup of coffee left.  He’d also taken your rook with his bishop.

“Sorry about that.”  You said.

He shrugged.  “It’s your job.”

“Still, I’ve been having fun.”

“Me too,”  He said with a rather cheeky twinkle in his eye.

“You looked over the board and shook your head.  “Can’t believe you took my rook.”  You said.

“Like I said, them’s the breaks.”  He said with a twinkle in his eye.

You scrunched your nose and moved your night taking his bishop.  “Yeah, well, so are those.”

He chuckled.  “Not sure that was the best move.”  He said and moved his queen to the side, putting you in check.  “Check.”

“Bucky!”  You squawked.  Not so much upset that it looked like you might be very close to losing, but more that if you did there was no more reason for him to come back and hang out with you.  Maybe he would anyway.  Maybe it wasn’t just about finishing this game for him either.  You’d hope he might actually ask you out and then you could actually go on a date with him.  You couldn’t ask him.  It was against the rules you had made yourself.  This was supposed to be a safe place.  Where customers could come unharassed.  The rules were if a customer made you feel unsafe you could also tell them to leave even if it was only one of the lunchtime coffee makers and not management that felt that way.  So the entire ball was in his court now and you were reluctant to make any more moves because you were worried that even if he did feel that way about you, maybe he wasn’t at an ‘asking strange women out’ stage of his life.

It was also a lot to assume this Avenger had any feelings for some woman who made coffee for a living.

You used your knight to take his queen.  It was the only move you could make and it wasn’t exactly a good one.  He looked at the board and drained the last of his coffee with a frown.  You didn’t know what he was waiting for.  There was one very obvious move there.  He had to take it.  He even put one of his metal fingers on his plastic rook and was rocking it back and forth in on the board.

“Why don’t you take the move?  You know it’s the only one.”  You said.

“I don’t know.  If I take it, the game is over.”  He replied.

“We have other games.”  You said.  “Finishing this one doesn’t mean we have to stop playing together.”

He shifted the rook from side-to-side.  “I guess not.”

“You could come to one of our Friday night things?”  You suggested.  That wasn’t exactly asking him out.  They were public events after all.  Anyone could come.  “You could play with my friends.  Or I could play with you and yours.  Or you know?  Whatever?”

“I guess… yeah.  That would be fun.”  He said and a half smile spread over his features.

“There’s always the coffee too.”  You said.

“Right.  Still, so many flavors to try.”

You laughed, which made the smile form fully.  “Yeah, lots more ways to make it sweet.”

He chuckled a little and moved his rook, putting you into checkmate.  “Mate.”

You pretended to go and flip the table.  “God damn it!”

He laughed and reached forward giving your arm a small pat.  “I know.  Sucks to lose.”

You chuckled, but your skin flushed where he touched it.  “Sure does.  I’ll be sure not to next time.”

He started to pack the game away as you cleared up the cups and plates.  “This has been fun, Bucky.  I hope you’ll keep coming back.”

He looked up at you and smiled.  There was a look in his eye.  Slightly hopeful.  You hoped it meant he could feel that tiny ember of potential you were feeling too.  “Yeah.  I’ll be back.”

You took the dishes back, collecting up other empties from the room and wiping down tables.  That crush you had deepening a little more.

“Bye!”  He called as he opened the door.

“See you, Bucky.”  You called back and as the bell jingled when it closed you started counting down until the next time you saw him.

// NEXT

[zen3to5]

J/H 3-10: Fez Gets The Girl

Well, the re-tread's done - now here we go in earnest!

Following along with the production order rather than the air dates, we now come to "Fez Gets The Girl." I've left the "A" story with Red and Eric untouched, and the "B" story with Fez and Caroline has only minor adjustments. I've kept everything, however, to provide context and to try and simulate a proper 22-minute episode. Now, as for the stuff that I did re-write...well, read on, my friends.

FF.Net AO3

---

SHOW TITLE   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY - DAY   The boys are gathered around the Vista Cruiser. ERIC leans inside from the open driver’s seat window, working on the speakers.   HYDE: Where’s the tunes, Forman?   ERIC: Hang on, you guys. Just one more wire here.   FEZ: I learned how to speak English faster than this.   KELSO: Fez, it’s not real English if you speak it with a foreign accent. Geez.   Eric finishes his adjustments. ROCK MUSIC plays loudly from the car. The boys all smile and start to head bang.   ERIC: Aren’t these the coolest?   FEZ: I can’t hear you.   ERIC: I know! They’re the greatest speakers ever!   Eric jumps onto the hood of the car, slides down to the end, and starts playing air guitar.   RED, dressed for work, steps out from the kitchen. He stares at his son and rolls his eyes.   RED: Eric!   Eric, not hearing, continues to jam. The other boys retreat through the garage. Red crosses to the car and shuts off the radio. Eric, finally noticing his father, sits upright on the hood of the car.   ERIC: Oh, hey, Dad. Sorry. Didn’t see you there.   RED: Well, I guess ‘cause you were too busy making an ass of yourself.   ERIC: Actually, I was trying out my new speakers. What do you think?   RED: New speakers? What was wrong with the old ones? Those were genuine GM parts!   ERIC: (beat) Uh... these are louder.   RED: Yeah, well – just keep your monkey music turned down. And go grab your smock. We gotta go to work.   Eric hops off the car and heads inside.   BOB (v.o.): Hey, Red! Is that you?   RED: Oh, cripes.   Red leans into the car and turns the speakers back on, at full volume, just as BOB enters. He smiles and leans on the passenger’s side door.   BOB: (to Red)  Hiya, neighbor!   RED: Can’t hear you, Bob. I’m testing out Eric’s new speakers.   Bob looks confused and wanders off the way he came. Once he leaves the driveway, Red turns the radio off and smiles.   RED: (indicates the speakers) Not bad.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - EVENING   Red and Eric sit at the dining table, eating their dinners. KITTY crosses from the counter to the table as Red talks.   RED: Boy, quite a day at Price Mart, Kitty. First, the price of light bulbs dropped two cents, then Eric was made employee of the month, and to top it off, they added Cheez-Its to the vending machine.   Eric looks up from his plate.   ERIC: Are you serious?   RED: Yep. Tiny little squares with the cheese flavor baked right in.   ERIC: Am I really Price Mart employee of the month?   RED: You sure are.    Kitty applauds wildly.   KITTY: Yay!   RED: (to Eric) And they even decided to throw in an extra 25 cents an hour.   ERIC: Oh, yes!   RED: I gotta admit, Eric. I had my doubts, but hell, you’ve hardly embarrassed me.   ERIC: (beat) Thanks, Dad. Oh, this is great. Whoo! Price Mart rocks!   LAURIE enters from the living room and joins the family at the table.   KITTY: Oh, Laurie, tell everyone your good news.   LAURIE: I just finished my first two weeks of cosmetology school!   KITTY: And she didn’t flunk out! Isn’t that great?   RED: (to Laurie) That is great, honey. Nice job.   Red leans over and gives Laurie a kiss on the cheek.   LAURIE: Thanks, Daddy. But I’m a little worried. We’re not allowed to practice on dummies anymore and I can’t find anyone who’ll let me style their hair for my next exam.   KITTY: Oh, honey, you’ll do fine. We’re all here to support you.   LAURIE: Great. So, you don’t mind being my model?   KITTY: (quickly) Oh, honey, no, no. I go to the beauty parlor. Maybe Eric can help out.   ERIC: Oh, sure. Laurie, first of all – always run with scissors.   Laurie makes a face at him.   KITTY: (to Eric) Boy, I never get tired of your sarcasm.   ERIC: Really?   Red clears his throat.   ERIC (cont’d): Sorry.   KITTY: Red, would you like to be a hair model?   RED: Kitty, I would like to have hair. Period. But I don’t. So, no.   Red pats Laurie on the back, then stands and heads for the counter.   LAURIE: It’s fine, Mom. I’ll just get Kelso to do it. He shorted out my hair dryer last week when we were all done -   She looks over at Red, who glares back.   LAURIE (cont’d): ... “talking,” so he owes me one.   KITTY: (beat) Well, that’s very nice.   RED: Sure it is, kitten. And hey, you’ll be practicing on a dummy after all.   He and Eric both laugh.   ERIC: All right, Dad!   He points to Red, who salutes with a beer can. They keep laughing while Laurie scowls and Kitty goes back to her dinner.   CUT TO:   INT. THE HUB - NIGHT   A quiet night at the Hub. The gang have two small tables pulled together. Eric, KELSO, and FEZ sit around one, with Eric backwards in his chair as Kelso and Fez both sip at their sodas. HYDE and JACKIE sit on opposite sides of the other table, bent over a beat-up chess board and set.   The chess game is clearly in Hyde’s favor. Jackie hesitantly reaches for one of the white bishops and pushes it forward.   HYDE:  Can’t move that way.   Jackie pouts. She sets the bishop back and picks up a white knight.   HYDE (cont’d): No.   Jackie’s pout deepens. She tries to pull a rook diagonally.   HYDE (cont’d): No.   With more force than necessary, Jackie slams the rook back on the board, picks up a white pawn, and takes a black pawn.   HYDE (cont’d): There you go.   He moves a black bishop to take the square Jackie’s pawn was just on.   HYDE (cont’d): Checkmate.   He laughs and Jackie groans.   JACKIE: Steven, this game is so stupid!   HYDE: Nah, man. It’s the game of kings.   JACKIE: Oh yeah? (lifts her king) Then why can’t the king do anything? The queen – (holds up her queen) Has all the power, does all the work, and – (looks at the queen) Deserves a way prettier crown.   She sets the pieces back down and crosses her arms. Hyde shrugs and turns toward the guys.   ERIC: So, guys, not only are they gonna hang my picture in front of the store, but I also get to represent our entire district in the national Price Mart Olympics.   Everyone gives disinterested nods. Jackie starts resetting the chess pieces.   FEZ: That’s nice. (beat) Do you think I would choke to death if I swallowed my straw?   KELSO: No, it’s got a breathing hole.   Fez takes his straw from his soda cup and puts it in his mouth.   ERIC/HYDE/JACKIE: Fez, no.   Reluctantly, Fez puts his straw back in his cup.   From the table behind the gang, an ATTRACTIVE BLONDE stands and crosses to the juke box, sparing a look Fez’s way as she passes him. Fez sits up straight as she leans on the juke box.   FEZ:  Oh, my God. There she is.   JACKIE: Who is that?   FEZ: The new girl, Caroline. She transferred here from Sacred Heart. Or Heaven, I’m not sure which. We have gym together. She barely sweats. Some day, I will make her my bride.   HYDE: Yep, no one likes a sweaty bride.   The guys all mutter in agreement, while Jackie rolls her eyes.   HYDE (con’d): Hey, why don’t you go talk to her, man?   FEZ: Oh, I...   He trails off into nervous mumbling. Pop music begins to play.   CUT TO:   FANTASY SEQUENCE. The Hub is dark, save for two spotlights, one on CAROLINE and the other on Fez. He rises, crosses to Caroline, and spins her around to face him.   FEZ: You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.   CAROLINE: Thank you. Your cocoa-brown skin makes me hot.   FEZ: I know. I am irresistible. Would you like to dance?   Caroline nods. They begin to dance, the spotlights following their steps. After a twirl, they separate, Caroline returning to the juke box and Fez to his seat.   CUT TO:   Back in the real world. Fez sucks nervously on his soda.   HYDE: Hey. Why don’t you go talk to her, man?   FEZ: Oh, I don’t know, Hyde. I can’t. I don’t understand this. Usually, I am... I am suave, I am silky.   The gang stares.   FEZ (cont’d): But this girl makes me... I have to go to the bathroom.   Fez quickly stands and moves to the bathroom, taking his soda with him.   ERIC: Anyway, getting back to Price Mart –   HYDE/KELSO/JACKIE: Shut up!   ERIC: Yeah.   DONNA enters through the Hub door. She hurries over to the gang and takes Fez’s empty chair.   DONNA: Oh, my God. You guys are never gonna believe this.   ERIC: Wait, no – me first.   DONNA: Okay, go.   ERIC: Okay. I, Eric Forman – your boyfriend – am Price Mart’s newest employee of the month.   DONNA: (beat) Eric, that’s great. Are you done?   ERIC: Oh, yeah. Top that, cupcake.   DONNA: Okay. Kat Peterson’s parents are out of town this Saturday, and she’s throwing a huge party. Two bucks a head, anyone’s in, and – seven minutes in heaven. But instead of a closet, it’s in the guest bedroom.   KELSO: All right!   He stands and hollers. Jackie and Hyde both nod and smile. Eric slowly stands, mouth open.   DONNA: (to Eric) You and me – we’re going.   ERIC: Oh, my God, no. Did you say Saturday? I... I can’t go Saturday. It’s inventory night. It’s mandatory.   DONNA: Skip it, Eric. We both need this party. Call in sick. Tell them your grandma died. (snaps fingers) Burn down the store.   ERIC: You’re right. You know what? I’m going.   Donna snaps her fingers again and grins.   ERIC (cont’d): Ah, I can’t go.   He slumps back down in his chair. Slowly, so does Kelso.   KELSO: Man, Saturday night? I’m out too. That’s the night Laurie’s doing my hair.   Everyone turns to stare at Kelso. He looks around at all of them, pouting.   KELSO: It’s for her beauty school classes. Education is important, people!   ERIC: (stands) No, I am going! (sits) Ah, I can’t go.   DONNA: Are you sure?   ERIC: Yeah, I can’t. You know, everyone has to work. No exceptions. Plus, Red and I – we’re both kind of supervising.   HYDE: Corporate America claims another victim.   DONNA: Eric, it’s okay. You’re a really responsible guy. I love and hate that about you.   KELSO: Okay, you know what? I’m not embarrassed that Laurie’s doing my hair. Yeah, ‘cause everybody goes to get their hair cut anyway, and if I have my girlfriend do it – well, then, that just saves money. And it gets expensive, staying this pretty.   He points to his head as he shakes it, tossing his bangs to and fro.   Jackie tugs on Hyde’s arm and points to the reset chess board.   JACKIE: Okay, Steven. Try to beat me now.   She confidently moves a pawn forward. Hyde calmly moves one of his forward. Jackie advances another pawn. Hyde, having freed his queen, moves it into the Fool’s Mate.   HYDE: Checkmate.   He grins as Jackie gasps, covers her mouth, and looks back and forth from Hyde to the chess board.   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY   The next morning. Laurie is rifling through a large bag full of beauty products on the table. All around her are hot rollers, styling wands, brushes, applicators, scissors, and hairspray cans, all immaculately clean.   Kitty enters from the living room, sees Laurie, and chuckles.   KITTY: Well, now. This is nice. Look at you, getting all your things nice and ready for your big exam.   LAURIE: Oh, no, Mom. This is all mine.   Kitty glances, disbelievingly, at the mess on her table.   LAURIE (cont’d): Yeah... I should probably find something to use on Kelso, huh?   Kitty shakes her head and returns to the living room. Laurie shrugs and goes back to rifling through her things.   CUT TO:   INT. SMILEY’S – DAY   Early afternoon at a small local diner. Red and Eric sit at a small table, their meals finished. Eric stares off into space, a look of pride on his face, as Red chews on a toothpick.   Eric turns to his dad and lifts up a KEYCHAIN.   ERIC: Oh, hey, did you see this? They gave me a Price Mart keychain. It’s got a knife and everything. Yeah, I keep it in my pocket. Some of the other guys get jealous.   Red takes the toothpick from his mouth.   RED: Look, Eric. I know you’re very excited about your raise and everything, but I don’t want you to get too caught up in this.   ERIC: Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not about to alienate my fellow employees with my award-winning work ethic. I read the signs in the breakroom. There’s no “I” in teamwork.   Red shakes his head. THE WAITRESS comes and presents him with the check.   WAITRESS: Here’s your check, sir, and thank you for eating at Smiley’s.   Eric reaches for the check. Red slaps his hand down on it.   RED: (laughs) Very funny.   ERIC: You know what, Dad? I got this.   RED: (beat) Take your hand off the check.   Eric stares at Red, refusing to let go. Red stares back and tugs at the check.   WAITRESS: I’ll come back.   She walks off, as Eric and Red continue to stare each other down.   CUT TO:   INT. THE HUB – DAY   Early afternoon, with steady business. Jackie and Hyde sit at a table against the wall, with Jackie in the booth seat. The chess board is between them again.   HYDE: Okay, let’s review. The bishop – (lifts one) Moves on the diagonal, the rook – (lifts one) Horizontal and vertical, and the knight – (lifts one) Can jump with a two-and-one L move.   JACKIE: (lifts her knight) Why is this only a horse’s head? How is he supposed to gallop to the queen’s rescue? And where are the prince and princess pieces?   Hyde sighs and takes the knight from Jackie, placing it back on the board.   Donna and Fez stand at the food counter waiting for their order. In front of them sits Caroline, studying. Donna notices, and points her out to Fez.   DONNA: Fez, is that her?   FEZ: Yes. I wish I could go talk to her, but I get so nervous.   DONNA: Fez, you shouldn’t be nervous. You’re awesome. What girl wouldn’t wanna be with you?   FEZ: Well, there is Jackie, Laurie, this girl from gym, another girl from chemistry, Country-Western star Tanya Tucker, who does not answer her letters, and, uh –   DONNA: Okay, stop. Whatever happened to suave, silky Fez?   FEZ: You’re right. I forgot about him. He’s hot.   DONNA: Exactly. So, go get her, Fez.   Donna pats Fez on the back and crosses to their table to join Jackie on the booth seat. Fez clears his throat and walks over to Caroline.   FEZ:  Caroline, it is Fez. May I sit?   Caroline looks up and nods eagerly. Fez pulls the free chair out and goes to sit down, but knocks Caroline’s food on the floor and misses the seat of the chair, falling to the ground. He immediately stands up, not meeting Caroline’s eyes.   FEZ: Okay, thank you.   Fez crosses to the bathroom door, pauses to glare at Donna.   FEZ: Great idea, Donna!   He disappears into the bathroom as Jackie, Hyde, and Donna choke down laughter. Jackie pats Donna on the shoulder.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - DAY   Later in the afternoon. Kitty scrubs the counter. Eric and Red enter from the patio door, mid-argument.   ERIC: Well, excuse me for trying to buy a co-worker lunch.   He shrugs his coat off.   RED: I am not your co-worker. You’re a high school kid with a part-time job. You’re temporary!   KITTY: Uh-oh! You know what ends fights? Pudding. Just give me seven minutes.   She moves to get the ingredients from the cupboard. Eric and Red cross past the counter.   RED: Eric, you’ve gotta stop acting like a big shot. You’re not the king of the world, you know.   ERIC: I’m employee of the month. I don’t have to take this.   He exits into the living room. Kitty, with milk and pudding mix, moves to the island.   RED: This is no good, Kitty.   KITTY: Well, what are you gonna do, Red? He’s growing up. There are worse things he could be than a little too proud of his first real job.   RED: Oh, yeah? Like what?   Kelso enters from the patio door and pats Red on the shoulder.   KELSO: Hey, Red. Is Laurie home?   Red and Kitty both slowly turn to look at Kelso. Red’s eyes dart from Kelso’s face to his hand on Red’s shoulder. Kelso withdraws his hand and hurries out of the kitchen into the living room.   BUMPER   INT. LAURIE’S ROOM - DAY   Kelso sits in a chair at the vanity. He bounces in his seat, a big smile on his face, as Laurie cleans a hairbrush.   Kelso looks up, sees Laurie is busy. With a sneaky expression, he slowly reaches for a pair of scissors on the vanity. He picks them up and starts to snip happily at the air.   Laurie, hearing the sound, smacks Kelso in the back of the head and takes the scissors from him.   LAURIE: I said, don’t touch anything!   She goes back to her brush as Kelso sinks lower into the chair.   CUT TO:   INT. THE HUB - DAY   Jackie and Donna are still at the wall table. Donna has taken Hyde’s place in the chess game. She moves a white piece, and Jackie moves a black piece into check.   JACKIE: Oh, my God! That’s check, right? I did it, Donna! I did it! Check, check, check!   She claps and wiggles in her chair. Donna laughs and moves out of check.   DONNA: Jackie, since when do you play chess?   JACKIE: Oh, Steven started teaching me a few days ago. Yeah, I wanted to play Mystery Date, but Steven said that if I so much as opened that game within ten feet of him, all the dates but the dud would never be seen or heard from again.   Donna laughs again, stands, and heads into the bathroom. Hyde, returning from the counter, takes her place.   JACKIE: So, Steven – I checked your king. Yeah, that’s right. I’m coming atcha. Let’s see you win now.   Hyde studies the board for a moment. He reaches out, his hand hesitating. Jackie grins. Hyde looks up at her, grins back, and moves his king, freeing his rook to form checkmate.   JACKIE (cont’d): Oh, come on!   CUT TO:   INT. HUB BATHROOM - DAY   Donna adjusts her hair. Caroline enters and comes up behind Donna, who sees her in the mirror.   DONNA: Hi.   CAROLINE: Hi. You’re Donna, right?   DONNA: Yeah, yeah.   CAROLINE: I’m Caroline. I think we have Spanish together.   DONNA: Oh, yeah. Hi.   CAROLINE: Hola. Um... you know that foreign guy you’re always hanging out with?   DONNA: Fez?   CAROLINE: Yeah, Fez. Um, is he... does he...   DONNA: Oh, my God. You like Fez? Oh, my God! Come on, I’ll introduce you to him.   CAROLINE: Oh, no, no. That’s okay. I just wanted to... I gotta go. Use the bano.   Caroline rushes into the stall. There is a banging sound on the walls.   CAROLINE (v.o.): Stupid, stupid, stupid!   Donna looks to the stall, then outward in thought.   CUT TO:   INT. LAURIE’S ROOM – NIGHT   Saturday night. Kelso’s styling is in progress. He is once again sitting at the vanity, a barber’s cape around him. His hair is wet and combed back. Laurie balances a pair of scissors and a comb in one hand and takes up a section of hair with the other, complicated by Kelso moving around. Just as she gets a section and moves to cut it, Kelso pulls away, smiling.   KELSO: Man, I love getting my hair done. Really makes you feel good, you know?   Laurie gives him a curt smile and nod, moves to take a section of hair. Kelso pulls away again.   KELSO (cont’d): Yeah, I’ve loved it ever since I was a kid. Going to the barber shop, getting all trimmed and cleaned up... plus, they had this lady barber with huge boobs. I used to check ‘em out in the mirror while she cut my hair.   He chuckles at the memory. Laurie grabs his head hard to steady him and takes a section of hair. She is just about to trim it when Kelso starts rocking back and forth in the chair.   KELSO (cont’d): Oh, and the best part? At the end of every haircut, they’d give me a lollipop.   He turns around to look at Laurie expectantly.   KELSO (cont’d): Do you have lollipops?   LAURIE: SHUT UP!   She grabs his head with both hands, yanks it forward, and locks it in place as well as she can with her elbows as she starts to trim a section of his hair.   Kelso’s eyes dart around the mirror of the vanity, and he starts to laugh.   KELSO: You know, the lady barber used to wear the same kind of sweaters in the winter. But that didn’t stop me.   Laurie slaps him on the back of the head with her comb, then goes back to work.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Red, dressed for work, is asleep in his chair, a magazine in his lap. Slow zoom in as we cut to:   INT. PRICE MART – DAY   DREAM SEQUENCE. A badly-aged Red, now a janitor in a smock, has his ear to the break room door. He goes back to mopping as it opens. A grayed, pale Eric steps out, in a Price Mart manager’s suit.   ERIC: Hey, Dad. Good news. Just got another raise.   RED: Well, good for you. (aside) You dumb bastard.   ERIC: Yeah, I tell ya. If they keep throwing money at me like this, I might be able to get my own apartment soon.   Red rolls his eyes.   RED: For God’s sake, you’re 57 years old!   ERIC: Oh...   Red takes Eric’s shoulder and shakes it gently.   RED: Eric, why didn’t you listen to me? If you’d gone to college, you could’ve really been something.   ERIC: Been something? Whoa. You’re talking to the interim assistant weekend manager of housewares here, okay? Yeah. Show some respect.   RED: Well, aren’t you just the president of Turd Town?   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM - NIGHT   Red jerks awake. He shakes his head, stands, and starts to pace.   Eric, also dressed for work, enters from the kitchen.   ERIC: Dad, I’ve been thinking about why you went so crazy and yelled at me, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re crazy and you like to yell at me.   Red puts a hand on Eric’s shoulder.   RED: There’s something you gotta know. You’re... well... you’re an idiot.   ERIC: (beat) Oh, great. A pep talk.   RED: Sit down.   They both sit on the couch.   RED (cont’d): When I was your age, I thought I had it all, too. Great job at the plants, nice steady paycheck. Just enough to, you know, string me along for 30 years or so, and for what? So they could toss me out on my ass when things got tough.   ERIC: Dad, I’m not gonna -   RED: Look. Don’t get me wrong. I admire your work ethic, but you deserve better than Price Mart. You’re a smart guy. And I’m... I’m proud of you.   He stands, and Eric follows.   ERIC: Whoa! Really? You... you think I’m smart? You’re proud of me?   RED: Oh, jeez. What, you gonna ruin this now by talking?   ERIC: Listen, Dad... if I’m still working at Price Mart when I’m your – older – please, kill me.   RED: You don’t have to ask twice, Son.   Eric laughs.   ERIC: Ah, yes. That’s my dad.   They both laugh as Red pats Eric’s shoulder again.   A scream sounds, and they both look to the stairs.   KELSO (v.o.): Laurie, no! A cut and a style is one thing, but that is where I draw the line!   LAURIE (v.o.): It’s part of the exam, you idiot! Now, sit down!   KELSO (v.o.): NO! Get away!   Kelso, still wearing the barber’s cape, his hair wet and slicked back, races down the stairs, tripping at the bottom. He struggles to disentangle himself from the cape. Laurie starts down the stairs after him, an applicator in her hand. Kelso tears the cape off, throws it at her, races through the living room, and disappears into the kitchen. Laurie runs to the middle of the living room and stomps her foot.   LAURIE: (after Kelso) Get back here!   She stomps her foot again, sighs, and looks over at Red.   LAURIE (cont’d): (to Red) Daddy – would you like to be a blonde?   Eric chuckles as Red puts a hand over his face and sinks down into the couch.   CUT TO:   INT. PETERSON HOUSE - NIGHT   A rocking party is underway. Rock music plays in the background, teens dance where they stand, and a large keg is set up in the hallway.   Donna and Fez, both with beer cups in hand, move down the hall. Donna guides Fez to an unassuming door.   FEZ: Oh, Donna, I don’t know about this.   DONNA: Fez, relax. You’ll love this. Trust me.   FEZ: Okay. I trust you. But there is no penalty in this game if I can’t do it for all the seven minutes, right?   Donna laughs and pats Fez on the back. She opens the door and gives Fez a nudge inside.   CUT TO:   INT. GUEST BEDROOM – NIGHT   The guest bed is neatly made, and the room is lit with many candles on the dressers and nightstands. Caroline is pacing up and down the room. She stops as Fez enters. They smile at one another, and both move to sit on the bed, a few inches apart. They both look straight ahead.   FADE TO:   Some moments later. They both still look straight ahead, but Caroline’s head is resting on Fez’s shoulder. Fez reaches out with his hand to take Caroline’s. They look at each other and smile.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - NIGHT   Hyde is in his chair, and Jackie is on the couch. A chess board rests on the table between them. Hyde is down to his king, while Jackie has her king, queen, and both knights. She titters with excitement.   JACKIE: Well, did I do it? Huh?   HYDE: (beat) Queen and knight checkmate.   Jackie screams and throw her hands in the air. Hyde topples his king over and nods.   HYDE (cont’d): You’re getting the hang of it, man.   JACKIE: Yeah, so, what really helped me was to think of the queen (picks queen up) as me, the castles (picks rook up) as tough back-up like Donna, the horses (picks knight up) as unicorns, and your pieces (indicates Hyde’s king) as a bunch of dirty little Michaels.   She claps and bends over the game, while Hyde sits back in his chair.   END.

[teefa85]

So, Ruins of Lore beat!  Opinions under cut...

Honestly, it’s not a bad game when looked at objectively.  There are a lot of good ideas, like the job system and ‘mon catching.  But at the same time, there really could be some rebalancing.  You find a lot of the equipment for your ‘mons, and go figure the stuff I chose couldn’t wear ANYTHING I found!  They had weak store brought equipment for much of the game, with one or two rare drops to power them up.  So...they became useless!  You also can’t use the Combine feature without one being in your party so that weakens the potential of your combined forces for someone having a few turn buff (and the less said about “no reviving/switching out dead ‘mons” the better...my first run had a dead ‘mon, and Eldin/Torma/Rami as the party I fought Goldiark with).

Job balancing...it takes forever to master Magic Based Jobs and they’re a bit underpowered.  Put it in perspective, by the time Rami mastered her first Job (Mage), Torma was halfway done with Bishop (the second tier healing Job) and Eldin had Mastered...Swordsman, Knight, Fighter, Brawler, Thief, was far along on Chemist, and had Rapidfire (first Tier Rogue Skill).  I think the other reason, besides Confusion hax, I noped out of the Ancient Cave was the guide I used had “use Mirror to protect Eldin from damage” as the strategy for a lot of bosses.  Mirror...is the next to last Tier Mage skill!  The one Rami hadn’t Mastered until Eldin had most of the physical skills learned!  It’s also kind of annoying that Bau and Dekar can’t get jobs, because boy does Bau need it and Dekar isn’t with you for the final battle (though I swear he was in my first run so I don’t know what I was remembering or didn’t do).

But while I find it a good game objectively, it’s a horrible Lufia game.  There are a few books and NPCs that reference Lufia II, but that’s it!  Oh, and Dekar...who for whatever reason looks like he was just beat up in his portrait!  Dekar wouldn’t get in that condition...this guy survived a collapsing shrine with no real damage in this ‘verse!  Honestly, his only reasons for being there seemed to be his popularity (which I was more lenient with Dekard on because he’s doing a lot of awesome shit that this Dekar doesn’t do, plus it’s an alias and what guy who wants to be awesome wouldn’t use a legendary awesome guy as his inspiration).  And to finally get him laid!  Yes, I find his relationship with Marin adorable in context of the game, though it does lose some points because she’s effectively a fangirl who got to be with her idol, and I’ve had some BAD experiences with that sort of fan.  Still think it’s cute, but Dekar’s relationship with Tia in Curse is a lot more adorable (do wonder if it was done as a natural follow up to their convo, not having time to work with Tia past the timeskip in the original, or Neverland rebelling against another company creating a love interest for one of their characters).

I’m not that big of a fan of having Eldin as a mute main character, though at least he has expressive emotive portraits to sub in for dialogue at points.  I tolerate it with games like Suikoden/Breath of Fire (which don’t have modern games anyway)/Dragon Quest/Zelda because they have used a mute main character since Day 1, and were created back in a time when that was still a trope.  But Lufia heroes actually have had voices since the first game.  Still...it’s less a knock against Eldin as a character and more a knock against the decision, as he’s still one of the better mute main characters in gaming!

The Ancient Cave being only 60 levels, limited to Eldin and his monster (and remember what I said about monsters up above), and the stupidity in beef gating rather than being something you could work around through repeated going in like in II and TLR (or just getting levels like the first game) CAN go to hell though!

Now, I have problems with the story as-is.  Mostly in regard to Eldin’s role...his dad all but tells Rubius he’s adopted, then she sees an inscription and realizes he was sent forward in time so his parents could save him from Eristol’s destruction.  But does he ever find this out...no!  Unless there’s some obscure sidequest I missed out on twice.  It’s wasted potential...not that he’d react much other than the upset face and possibly some lesson on Family of Choice and Not Blood Parents.  Other than that...the story we are given isn’t bad, besides the ending (really too much out of nowhere stuff, a villain who doesn’t show up until right before the finale, and padding with the extra run up Mt. Ruhei and third run up the Tower of Guidance...oh and the solution being “seal Beast in Holy Land and destroy stones” making it stupid that this all happened in the first place).  Also, WHY did Irmis have to seal the half of the beast in Nazare?  Was it breaking free?  Did Ragule attack?  Well...probably not the latter since he didn’t know where to go for it else they’d have gone there sooner.  And how long ago was it/what age were the twins?

I do have issues with the lack of connectivity to Lufia II, despite being only 20 years later in the same area of the world.  Which is ALSO wasted potential!  How about, instead of the Eastern Continent being razed by Gratze, have some of the missions be helping those areas!  We could have checked in with the scientists in Portravia (if they hadn’t all followed Lexis to Westland), Ferim’s possibly now Queen Jerit (maybe have them doing pretty good since she finally got together with Hans and his military expertise is making him a good wartime ruler’s consort), and of course Leon & Thea (see how their countries, the ones closest to Gratze, are doing and how they’ve been ruling since neither had a sibling to take the reigns of their own country to live with the other).  Also, the geography could use some work...HOW did we walk from Parcelyte to Gruberik, with no land bridges and no water on the map?!  And maybe equate the sealing in Nazare to the Sinistrals’ power having weakened the seal and it eventually started cracking after about five-ten years or something.

The other thing I can think of to fix this...instead of Eldin as the MC, make it Maxim and Selan’s son, Jeros, either making it 15 years later instead of 20, or changing Torma/Rami/possibly Rubius’ ages to better fit with him.  They could go with an angle of him being proud to be the son of heroes, but worried he won’t live up to them.  Proud that they saved the world, but angry that they left him behind.  Possibly even have him and Rubius strike up a romantic attraction, and then make it clearer that she will sacrifice herself too!  This can lead to Jeros having to face the loss of his love, and eventually come to terms not only with that, but what happened to his parents.  Then, in the end, he resolves to go to Westland so his descendants could watch over Doom Island as it was the one thing he could do to honor his parents.  It could also be an excuse to bring Tia into the story, as she moved to Parcelyte and took over the shop so she can help Selan’s auntie care for Jeros, with it being her own way of doing what she could for Maxim.  Honestly, what Eldin brings is his “ancient blood,” but they could easily have ignored the curse (which had SO LITTLE impact on the plot...see Atelier Iris for a game where a character gets a debilitating “curse” and it has affect on both plot and her combat prowess without making her suck) or had it (and the eventual “merge with the Beast Half which totally should have granted him a new skill or something”) be due to his powerful Energy Waves like his dear old dad!

Still, I did enjoy the game and the world, as long as I didn’t think of it as a Lufia game (yet that didn’t stop me from using Dekar for most of forever).  Though I also wish it had been its own new IP!  That would have removed the connectivity issues that caused a lot of people to hate it right off the bat, plus could have left the door open for a sequel or prequel, possibly with the system flaws fixed (just look what the Lufia Series did going from I to II, and how much of an improvement it is considered by fans).  But eh, what can you do?  I just don’t have the same need to replay it when I do Lufia-thons myself, and only did it this time due to being in quarantine and having loads of free time (I might still have been playing II or be early in TLR if I was doing my weekend only runs).

[sp4c3-0ddity]

42 for the dialogue prompts looks fun!

uh SO this got a tiny bit out of hand at 6800 and i also posted it to ao3 as No Sky Like Home. it’s post-season eight (with some liberties taken with canon) and has a mix of angst and fluff so...enjoy!!

(42) “I’m only here to establish analibi.”

Pidge hesitated to say yes.

“I don’t think that’s…a good idea, Lance.” She shuffled the pagesin her lab notebook just for something to do with her hands, avoiding Lance’sgaze in favor of staring at one of the impeccably shiny buttons on his uniformjacket.

“Oh, that’s…okay, Pidge.” Lance scratched his ear and smiled,somehow looking both like the overconfident boy she met years ago and like themore thoughtful man he’d become. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets,further completing the picture of rakish yet upstanding Garrison officer, andwondered, “Can I ask why?”

Pidge shifted her feet and bither lip. “Well, we work together,” she said, “so I don’t think it would beappropriate.”

It was a bullshit excuse - herown parents’ marriage would contradict her - and she knew it, but he didn’t callher out on it.

But his eyebrow quirked, andthe slightest sigh that escaped him made something guilty twist in her gut. “I guess that’s for the best then,” he said.

Before he could walk past herwith a muttered goodbye, Pidge grabbed his wrist and tugged him back. “Wait, Lance,” she said, trying to smile when his eyes flicked upto her face, “we’re still…friends, right?”

“Obviously,” he said with a slight grin of his own, but his gazefell to her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Then I’ll see you for lunch?” Pidge wondered hopefully - anythingto calm the anxious pounding of her heart.

Lance gently pulled his wristfrom her grip and ran his fingers through his hair. “Not today,” he said. “I have a lot of exams to grade. See youlater, Pidge.” He flashed her one last smile and pushed his way out of her lab.

She knew it was an excuse butdidn’t call him out. Instead she watched the door swing shut behindhim with a heaviness in her heart.

***

There were few occasions Pidgeregretted discussing her life with Matt, and this was turning into one of them.

“I never thought I’d see the day where my genius sister could besuch a dumbass.”

Pidge locked her eyes on thechessboard - she vowed to crush him for his words - and grumbled, “I thought you’d be more sympathetic.”

“Because you turned down a guy you’ve liked for years?” Matt snorted and nudged a pawn forward two spaces. “I have nosympathy for you.”

She scowled as she contemplatedher next move. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Unless I miss my guess,” Matt mused with a smirk, “you wanted to say yes.”

Pidge wondered if she imaginedthe crack in the wooden rook she pinched between her fingers. She slid itacross the board, diligently avoiding his sharp gaze, and said, “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you think that?” Matt asked, sounding more curious thanjudgmental. He raised an eyebrow and started ticking off points with hisfingers, “You’ve been friends for a long time and lived through a lot of thesame messed up stuff; you live on the same planet; you freed a cow together; youalready see each other often even outside work—”

Why did that reminder make heat shoot to Pidge’s face?

“—and I know for a fact you think he looks good in that uniformcoat.” Matt waggled his eyebrows at her, his pointed grin returning. “Hey, if Iwasn’t married, I’d want to—ow!”

A laugh burst from her whileMatt shot her a glare, rubbing his shin where her foot connected with it. Butwhen he straightened, tapping his chin as he planned his next move, he said, “If you tell me you have no feelings for him whatsoever and onlysee him as a friend, then I’ll drop it.”

Pidge, seeing a way out thougheven the lie unspoken left a bad taste in her mouth, said, “I—”

“Liar,” Matt said, brandishing hisqueen at her. “Why not go on just one date with him? See what happens fromthere.”

She sighed, her chest tight andher fingers curling into fists in her lap. “I can’t, Matt. He alreadybroke my heart once - without meaning to,” she hurriedly added before he couldcomment beyond his eyebrows climbing his forehead. “I won’t let him do thatagain.” She blinked at the chessboard, momentarily confused by the layout, andwondered, “Is it my move?”

Matt returned his queen to herplace. “It is not,” he said, “but don’t change the subject.”

Pidge crossed her arms andscowled. “I was not,” she protested, well-aware she sounded petulant. “I’mjust trying to keep up with—”

“Check,” he announced as he moved his knight into place, his smuggrin showing teeth. “But anyway, the thing that sucks about love is that you’llrisk that—”

“It’s not a worthwhile risk considering the evidence,” Pidgeretorted. She examined the board, determined to snatch her victory from thejaws of defeat, and grinned. His knight stood in a position where her queencould easily capture it.

“Did you consider all the evidence?” Matt wondered with a skeptical frown. “Sure, the past iscompelling, but what about the fact that he asked you out?”

Pidge’s eyelid twitched, a traitorous flutter in her chest at thememory, but she mumbled, “Guess who he asked out first.”

“Recently?” He crossed his arms on the table, leaning towards her,and after she didn’t respond he guessed, “Princess Allura?” When she nodded, helaughed and said, “Pidge, that was years ago, so—”

“It feels like…I don’t know.” She bit her lip, hating thatunpleasant turning of her stomach, and said, “I don’t really know how toexplain it.”

“Or you’re just overthinking things, as usual,” Matt pointed out with asigh. “Tell me what he acted like when he asked.”

Pidge tapped the tip of abishop, thinking back. “He blushed and stammered; itwas…cute.” A smile pushed at her lips, defying her will, but it fell as soon asshe recalled how crestfallen he was when she refused.

Her forehead fell to the table,chess pieces rattling, and she groaned. “I didn’t want to hurt him, butit’s just hard.”

“What is, Pidge?”

She straightened and proppedher elbow on the table, flicking one of Matt’s captured bishops until itfell over. “It’s hard to imagine he’d actually like me after someone likeAllura.”

She wasted so much time tryingto squash feelings that did her no good. Some distance helped, but then hestarted back at the Garrison, going so far as to finish up an actual piloting certification to showCommander Iverson and her he wasserious about returning to duty and joining on as a Defender, and after a fewtoo many late nights working - and goofing off or, once, reminiscing until theyheld each other and cried - together on a design for spacecraft he wouldeventually pilot, she was just as pathetically in love with him as she was atsixteen.

(The way his shoulders lookedin that damned uniform jacket didn’t hurt either.)

Matt rolled his eyes, lookingutterly unimpressed with her excuses. “Well, clearly he hasno problem imagining it,” he said, “which is why -aside from the fact that you’re into him and deserve to be happy with someonethat likes you as much as you like him - you should’ve said yes.”

“I’m perfectly happy with us being friends,” Pidge retorteddespite the guilty twist in her stomach. “Why should we shake things up if whatwe have is fine?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a scientist, Pidge? Fossil fuels are fine, so forgetrenewable energy. We can treat cancer, so why bother curing it? Oh, and withships, who needs—”

“All right, I get it!” She gripped the edge of the table, her facewarm and heart pounding with agitation, and mumbled, “It’s just different with him, okay?” And, just to tear her mindaway from the subject at hand, she picked up her queen and took Matt’s knightthat put her king in check. “Take that, by the way.”

“Hey!” Matt glared at her, tapping his chin and contemplating theboard for a few seconds before moving his surviving bishop.

A few moves later, Pidgegrinned as she announced, “Check mate.”

“That was a gutsy move,” he said, frowning down at her threateningqueen.

She crossed her arms. “Payback for last time.”

“It goes to prove something, doesn’t it?” Matt said, his mouthcurving into a slight smirk.

“What?” Pidge asked, instantly wary.

“If you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might missa chance to do something great.”

Pidge’s jaw dropped before she upended the board, scattering chesspieces over the table and floor. “Hey, using Dad’s words against me ischeating!”

Matt laughed. “I don’t think so,” he said, “and you just made a mess foryourself.” He stood and added, “Make sure you count all the pieces this time;we don’t want a repeat of last time when a knight clogged the vacuum.”

Pidge gnashed her teeth as shewatched him leave and wondered if older brothers ever stopped beinginfuriating.

***

Lunch proved lonely with Lanceavoiding Pidge, despite the presence of other coworkers. She had to force herlaughter at Nadia’s jokes and only half-listened to Ryan reluctantlyrecount the last disastrous blind date James set him up on.

With an invisible handsqueezing her heart so tightly and with memories of her last innocuousinteraction with Lance - a late dinner at the Denny’s in Plaht City that somehow still stood after a full-scalealien invasion - playing in her head, she didn’t properly tune into theconversation until someone spoke her name.

Nadia waved her hand in frontof Pidge’s face. “Anyone there? Or did someone flip your power switchwithout us noticing?”

“Ha ha,” Pidge said without bothering to conceal her irritation.She tore at the bread on her peanut butter sandwich, face warming under theirscrutiny. “You can carry on talking about Ryan’s hopeless love life without me.”

“Well, why don’t we talk about yours instead?” Nadia saidbrightly, her teeth flashing menacingly. “So…where’s your loverboy today?”

Pidge stared at her; it’d been a long time since she heard anyonecall Lance a loverboy, and as far asshe knew - and ascertained thanks to all the scientific inaccuracies she could not have anyone from the Garrisonhearing her spout - no version of The Voltron Show ever made it to Earth. “My…what?” she said, deciding it would be best to play dumb.

“I think she means Lance,” Ina supplied helpfully.

“Lance told me he was eating lunch with Veronica today,” Jamesoffered with a shrug. “He said it was her birthday?”

Pidge’s stomach turned with nausea, what little appetite she haddiminishing. “Veronica’s birthday was three months ago,” she said.

“Why would he lie?” Ryan wondered. To her, he didn’t lookparticularly interested in an answer, but she guessed he preferred to deflectthe attention off himself and onto her.

Traitor.

“I don’t know,” Pidge lied, wincing at the waver in her words.Then, before any of them could comment on it, she shoved her half-eatensandwich back into its bag and packed up her lunch. “I have an experiment toprepare ahead of my next class.”

“Do you want—”

“No, thank you, Ina,” she said. She forced a smile onto her faceas she stood before fleeing the mess.

Pidge had no real destinationin mind. She could head to her lab,but it would be all too easy for Matt - he had an uncanny ability for detectingGarrison gossip before it really turned into indistinct rumor - to find herthere. Instead she wandered the halls of the main building, barely payinganyone she passed - even the odd cadets that greeted her - any attention.

Lance going so far as to avoidher during lunch once hurt enough, but for almost a whole week was insufferable.

Maybe that was why she foundherself at the entrance to one of the smaller hangars, where she knew he’d be with his next flight class.

He stood at the head of a smallgroup of adolescent Defender cadets - both human and alien - gesturing wildlyat a prototype craft.

Pidge paused for a moment justwatching him with his students. He’d left the top button of hisuniform jacket undone, a hint of white shirt collar peeking out, and his hairstood on end as if he’d frequently run his fingers through it. Her breathcaught picturing it - and picturing her own fingers threading through thestrands and feeling for herself how soft they were.

Lance lectured animatedly andas if the craft was his co-teacher, supervising the cadets as they took turns climbinginto the cockpit which…was technically not allowed.

And that was her prototype, so she decided to put astop to it.

She marched through the line ofwaiting students with her heart racing, ignoring Lance’s widening, almost panicked eyes, and demanded, “What are youdoing, Lance?”

“Uh…showing my students the inside of one of the craft they’ll oneday fly,” he replied, the confident grin he flashed her - how was it fair thatit filled her chest with warmth and set her almost at ease? - belying theembarrassed flush in his cheeks.

“They won’t fly this one,” Pidge reminded him with a glare. “It’sjust a prototype; only a test pilot can fly it.”

“Lucky I’m in the running to be one of those, right?”

“What does that have to do with your cadets?” she wondered,raising a skeptical eyebrow. She shifted in place, suddenly self-conscious thatthey spoke - argued, really - in the view of about fifteen junior cadets, butmade sure to meet his gaze.

Lance didn’t falter. “Isn’t it important they at least understand theprocess and technology that goes into building the Defenders’ spacecraft?”

“It—” Pidge cut herself off with a grimace, resenting the logic inhis argument; damn him, he spent too much time around her.

And Lance, judging by the smirkcurling his lips, knew he’d won.

Pidge wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or smack it off. “Lance,” she said, her tone low in warning, “it’s still againstthe rules.”

He crossed his arms andfrowned, looking annoyed for the first time during this confrontation. “You’re one to talk,” he retorted. “Did you forget how we met?”

Pidge’s jaw dropped, heat flooding her face as every single cadet’sgaze snapped to her. “Th-that’s not—how is that relevant?” she stuttered.

Lance shrugged, lookingunbothered except for the way he tugged at the hem of his jacket. “Kind of hypocritical of you then, wouldn’t you say, Pidge?”

Her eyes narrowed, her heartjumping into her throat as she cycled through every possible response becausehe was right. They’d both been rule-breakers - though as far as she knew he’d neveractually broken the law until they freed Shiro - so really—

“One date,” Pidge muttered.

—it was just one more insanething they had in common.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “What? I didn’t hear—”

“One date,” she said louder, making sure to meet his blue eyes asthey widened.

“R-really? You’re changing your mind now?”

Pidge crossed her arms andpretended her heart didn’t hammer almost painfullyagainst her ribs. “Is that a problem, Lance?”

“Not at all.” He didn’t seem aware of their audience, hisstartlingly intent gaze only on her and enough to fill her with heat. “Tomorrownight we’ll head out from here? I have something planned.”

“O-okay,” Pidge agreed. A grin tugged at her lips, and she refusedto fight it. “We’ll see how it goes then.”

“We will,” he said, and the dazzling smile blooming on his facemade the anxious churning in her gut worthwhile.

***

Pidge barely made it to hernext class in time before the bell.

Naturally, the news that theircoding teacher had a date with their flight instructor beat her.

(She already knew to blameMatt.)

***

Pidge refused to agonize overwhat to wear (not like she did with any of the handful of other dates - whichranged in quality from decent to disastrous - Matt or Nadia set her up on),mostly because Lance barged into her lab before their work day even ended.

She’d scarcely shut down her active equipment, reaching to startunbuttoning her lab coat, when her door opened so fast it bounced off thedoorstop with a bang.

Pidge spun around, heartjumping into her throat and hand reaching for the bayard she kept hidden underthe sink - she worked in a rather sensitiveenvironment - before she registered Lance standing in the doorway. “What the quiznak, Lance?” she demanded. “You scared me!”

“Sorry!” He raised his hands, a sheepish smile on his face, andsaid, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to get too absorbed by aproject and forget all about our date.”

Her eyes narrowed, unimpressedwith his excuse, but she hung up her lab coat and grabbed her bag beforefollowing him into the hallway. “So what are we doing tonight?”she wondered, pretending to focus on locking up her lab rather than on theanxious flutter in her chest.

(She had to surreptitiouslywipe her sweaty hand on her pants when the security scanner failed to recognizeher prints.)

Lance flashed her a grin that,unless she missed her guess, held an edge of nervousness. “It’s a surprise,” he said, “but I think you’ll like it.”

“The arcade?” Pidge guessed when the alarm panel’s red indicatorlight finally activated.

“Nope,” Lance said. He stuffed his hands into his pockets andnodded for her to follow.

They passed other Garrisonscientists - some also leaving after a day of work and others taking a breakbefore returning to pressing assignments - on their way out. Even her motherspotted them - and oh, quiznak, she never told her parents so they probablylearned thanks to the Garrison’s irritatingly efficient rumormill - on her way to the greenhouses, her eyes widening in surprise before sheshot them a wink and said, “Don’t be out too late.”

Pidge made sure her mother wasout of sight when she scowled and grumbled, “I’m going to kill Matt.”

Lance laughed, his cheeks darkwith embarrassment when she dared a glance at him, and joked, “Then you’d be wasting all your hard lawbreaking as a cadet.”

Pidge bit her lip, fighting agrudging smile.

They entered the officerparking lot, passing Pidge’s small car and heading for—

“This isn’t your car,” she said, her eyes popping at the sight ofthe red hoverbike parked in his spot.

“It’s not,” he admitted, shrugging. “Keith gave it to me forsafekeeping.”

“And he’s letting you take it for a spin?” Pidge raised an eyebrowat him, skeptical. “Or is this another Lion swapping scenario?”

Lance flushed, avoiding hereyes and rubbing the back of his neck, and grumbled, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…”

“Better not crash then,” she joked, before sobering and adding, “You’dbetter not crash!”

Lance chuckled and nudged herin the side with his elbow. “Please, Pidge. If I can flyone of your crazy prototypes, I can drive Keith’s trashy hoverbike.”

“My prototypes are not crazy,” Pidge retorted.

“The last one had too much thrust,” Lance complained. “It feltlike flying the Red Lion again!”

“And that’s a…bad thing?”

Lance’s jaw flapped uselessly under her scrutiny before he exhaled in ahuff and said, “It’s fun but I also don’t want to crash while I’m still gettinga hang of how to handle it. We can’t all be naturals.”

Like Keith, he left unspoken…or so she guessed. She fidgeted with the strap on her bag,suddenly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation took - did that oldwound still bother Lance? - until he added, “Unlike Keith, I brought helmets.”

Pidge slid the bulky helmet heoffered her onto her head, her trembling fingers fumbling with the straps untilhe took pity on her and secured it for her. From this close, she could see herreflection in his eyes and wondered that, if not for the helmet, if his breathwould fall against her forehead.

But with those blue marks insuch easy view…

Lance smirked, patting herhelmeted head, and said, “Your genius brain is now safeand sound.”

“I’ve known you for years,” Pidge said, glancing past him at thehoverbike, “so who exactly are you trying to impress with that?”

“Huh?” Lance stepped away from her - she wished she had thecourage to tug him back - and put on his own helmet. “Maybe I want to impressyou anyway.”

The admission made her breathcatch - he really needed to stopdoing that before she forgot why she was so hesitant! - but she said, “There are better ways to do that than with driving into thesunset on a hoverbike.”

Lance shrugged. “Well, I can’t recite the digits of pi or solve complicatedquantum physics equations—”

“If you could, it wouldn’t impress me because I already knowplenty of people who can.”

Lance’s lips parted - in surprise, she thought - before he cleared histhroat and confessed, “The hoverbike’s better for going into the desert sincethe roads haven’t been fixed since the invasion.”

Pidge smirked. “The desert, you say? Are we off to find the Blue Lion’s cave?”

Lance laughed as he climbedonto the hoverbike, patting the spot behind him. “You’ll see.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow - sothat was one more possible destination eliminated - but clambered on behindhim. She considered where to place her hands as he turned on the engine and theboosters kicked into gear before deciding against overthinking every littlething and choosing to be as tactile with him as she wanted.

It wasn’t even that unusual with them, though thanks tothe idea that they were explicitly on a date,the thought of wrapping her arms around his waist even just to hold onto himbrought heat rushing to her face like she was a silly schoolgirl with a crush.

(Which…was never far removed from reality where Lance was concerned.)

But Pidge did it anyway, herarms secure and her cheek - or her helmet, really - pressed against his back.

“Hold tight,” Lance warned her. “I’m still not sure I can drivethis thing.”

“We rode a cow to escape a Galra mall cop,” Pidge reminded himdespite her own apprehension. “We’ll be—”

He revved the engine and zippedout of the parking lot, the wind whipping at her loose clothes and stinging hercheeks. Her eyes pinched shut against the dust stirred up by their privatetempest.

Hoverbikes handled smootherthan classic motorcycles but required more control from their operators. Anddespite its age, Keith’s hoverbike was in good repair thanks to a lovingowner.

And Lance proved adept athandling it…for the most part.

Her heart skipped a beat whenhe banked sharply onto a road with a gated entrance branching from the mainhighway, ignoring the sign that read, GovernmentProperty, No Trespassing. Her arms tightened around him - she trusted himwith her life but wasn’t sure she wanted him to test that trust on theirfirst date - as the boosters stuttered, adjusting to the sudden change in speedas Lance navigated the dilapidated road.

At the lower speed, Pidgejoked, “Are you taking me to Area Fifty-One?”

She felt more than heard Lance’s laughter, his back rumbling against her chest and bringing asmile to her own face. “We literally fought an intergalactic war againstaliens, so what’s so special about Area Fifty-One?”

“Plus we’re kind of in the wrong state for that,” Pidge pointedout. “How far are we heading out anyway?”

It darkened the longer theytraveled, the sun dipping below the horizon and painting the sky in streaks ofred and pink. The full moon rose opposite, and between its intense white lightand the hoverbike’s headlamp, the desert was still navigable.

Lance drove them up a windingdirt path, a canyon below them hidden in shadow. At the sharp change inincline, a flicker of familiarity hit Pidge, but she bit her lip and kept it toherself, too wary of being wrong - and crushingly disappointed - to speak herhope aloud.

The terrain flattened out, anda silhouetted structure rose ahead of them at the edge of the cliff overlookingthe canyon and a blanket of stars. The sight of the telltale dome made Pidge’s breath catch, and her grip on Lance tightened even as he slowedthe hoverbike to a stop.

“Well,” Lance said, deactivating the boosters and shutting off thehoverbike’s engine, “we’re here.”

“The old observatory?” Pidge slid off the hoverbike, fumbling withthe straps securing her helmet before pushing it off and setting it on herseat. Her feet moved almost against her will, drifting over uneven and stonyground towards the building she spent many a midnight staring into the universethrough the massive telescope with her father. It was one of the GalaxyGarrison’s first stations, converted into a museum a few years before Matt wasborn.

“So…?” She jumped, startled from her stunned reverie, when Lance’shand found hers. “Did I mess up?” he wondered, hesitant.

Pidge shook her head, desperateto allay his uncertainty, but dammit that lump in her throat shouldn’t be there while she was on a date with him. “N-no, it’s…I just haven’t been back here since before the Kerberosmission launch.”

Lance chuckled, and it broughta grin to her face when he squeezed her fingers. “Guess that’s another thing wehave in common, huh?”

“You’ve been here before too?” Pidge turned to him, her eyes wide.

“Just a couple times,” he said. “First time was when my wholefamily visited Veronica while she was a cadet, and the second time was thefield trip in flight school.”

“Oh, I…forgot you would’ve gone on that.” She tugged on the hem ofher dusty uniform jacket, smiling sheepishly. “I guess I missed that.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Guess you did.” He turned back to the hoverbike and rifledthrough one of the saddlebags hanging off the side before extracting aflashlight. “Care to explore with me and check out what’s changed?”

Pidge grinned. “Gladly.”

She followed him to theobservatory, ducking below the gleaming yellow caution tape blocking the mainentrance. Lance flicked on the flashlight, angling it around to illuminate thehigh domed ceiling’s design - a mural of the night sky, the zodiacalong the bottom of the hemisphere, with a model of their own solar systemdangling from the center.

“Venus is missing,” Lance observed in a low voice thatnevertheless echoed through the cavernous room.

Pidge led him deeper into theobservatory, past crumbling and dusty exhibits depicting the formation of starsin nebulae and their deaths as supernovas, towards the planetarium. She climbedthe stairs up towards the back room while Lance shined the beam on the switchesand dials that controlled the lights and rotating ceiling.

“There’s no power, Pidge,” he pointed out unhelpfully.

“I know,” she said, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I lostcount of the number of shows I watched here…”

They returned to the main hallof exhibits with velvet ropes partitioning them from the path, only…all the old spacecraft - all the rovers and modules - that wereonce on display no longer stood there, nothing left behind but the plaquesexplaining what role they played in the history of space travel andexploration.

“Where is everything?” Lance wondered. He jerked the flashlightaround, its beam flickering rapidly enough that Pidge’s head spun if she triedto follow it too closely, as if that would conjure up everything missing.

“I don’t know,” Pidge admitted, “but I think I can guess.”

“What?”

“I wonder if it was all salvaged for parts during the invasion,”she mused while her gut twisted with guilt…and not a little bit of remorse thatshe got so caught up in rebuilding Earth and the Defenders project that shenever returned here before now.

She hated seeing something sheloved so much reduced to so little.

She turned to head back to theentrance, but Lance’s hand on her shoulder gave her pause.

“Don’t you want to see if the telescope is still there?” hewondered.

“I doubt it will be,” she said, shaking her head. “Let’s just go.I’m…guessing you had something else planned?”

“Yeah.” Lance fell into step beside her, but the ensuing silenceweighed heavy until they emerged from the decrepit observatory and he said, “I’msorry, Pidge. I didn’t know it would be like…that.”

“I know,” she said. “I…” She smiled, more for his benefit than forhers because what he did was thoughtful and touched her no matter howseeing it like this pained her, and said, “I probably should’ve expectedit. Nothing’s really the same from when we left, right?”

“Maybe not, but peanut butter hasn’t changed.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him,confused by the change in subject, as he led her back to the hoverbike. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Lance grinned, pulling a foldedblanket and a lunch box from a saddlebag and heading down a path. She followeduntil they paused near the edge of the cliff overlooking the shadowed canyonwith the observatory behind them.

She helped Lance spread theblanket and sat beside him while he dug through the lunch box and pulled out afew foil-wrapped sandwiches. “Sorry about the simple dinner,”he said, passing her one to the embarrassing chorus of her rumbling belly. “Iactually took Allura to meet my family on our first, but you already know themand I…wanted our date to be something special.”

Pidge gripped herhalf-unwrapped sandwich a little tighter, shoulders tensing involuntarily atthe mention. She avoided looking too closely at his face lest she see thatirresistible reminder and instead commented, “It didn’t have to be.” Shesmiled, an inexplicable warmth in her chest staving off the chill of a desertevening in autumn. “I just like spending time with you.”

“You do?” Lance glanced at her, his eyes wide and…why did he haveto look so surprised by that?

“Obviously,” Pidge said. “I’m on a date with you, so I must,right?”

“Then…why did you say no at first?”

Pidge’s eyes shot open, and she took a huge bite out of her sandwich -peanut butter and blackberry jelly, her favorite - in lieu of thinking ofsomething to say. After swallowing, she sipped from the juice box Lance handedher before saying, “C-can I tell you why I changed my mind instead?”

He met her eyes, a spark ofeagerness in his gaze and his sandwich lying abandoned on the blanket. “Yeah?”

Pidge leaned towards him andwhispered conspiratorially, “I’m only here to establish analibi.”

Lance blinked at her once,twice, three times before she couldn’t fight her laughter anymore.She doubled over, clutching at her stomach while giggles burst from her, onlylaughing harder when Lance rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Ha ha, Pidge…though Iwouldn’t put it past you.”

Eventually, he cracked a smile,and her laughter abated, leaving her breathless with ribs pleasantly sore and asingle tear at the corner of her eye. She wiped it away and rested a hand onLance’s arm before admitting, “I think an alibi is useless when you andI were just trespassing on closed off property.”

“So…what are you getting at?”

Pidge inhaled, her eyesslipping shut as she toyed with one of the buttons on her uniform jacket. “I…like you, Lance,” she confessed while her stomach twisted intomiserable knots. “When you asked me out it felt like a pipe dream come truesince I never thought you’d look twice at me after…” She trailed off, crackingher eyes open to see Lance openly gaping at her.

“But you said no first,” he said, clearing his throat.

Pidge nodded. “And I don’t regret changing my mind.” Yet.

Lance smiled and took her hand,interlacing their fingers. It made something in her chest unravel, a few morethreads of anxiety loosened. “Does this mean you’re havingfun with me?”

Pidge bit her lip - and bitback the ironic joke that rose to her mind. “With you? Easily aside fromthe literal and figurative bumps, but I’d have fun with you at the arcade likewe always do too.”

“Then as long as we’re having fun, what’s wrong with doingsomething special?” Lance demanded.

Pidge stared past him, up atthe night sky, before reaching over and flicking off the flashlight. “Well, for one it’s not a good night for stargazing.” She pointedat the moon overhead bathing them in a white light. “We should’ve done thisduring a new moon, not while there’s a full moon out.”

Lance frowned at her. “You just said you like spending time with me.”

“And? You also left the flashlight on, which is just more lightpollution.”

“So why does it matter if the moon is full or not?” Lancewondered.

“So we can properly do one of the activities we came here for?”Pidge suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him. “We are partly here to stargaze,right?” When Lance only stared at her, his eyes wide and incredulous,heat rushed to her face and she stammered, “W-what? Why are you looking at melike that?”

Lance’s gaze softened, a fond smile gracing his face and doingsomething to her insides before he laughed. “You’re unbelievable, Pidge.”

“All the amazing things we’ve seen, and I’munbelievable?” Pidge scoffed, trying to deflect though that awful, doting lookhe was giving her made it impossible.

“Well,” Lance said, leaning back until he lay down and gazed up, “allthat amazing stuff, and there’s still nothing like the night sky from Earth.”

“The moon is a filthy light polluter,” Pidge mumbled before she quitoverthinking and lay down beside him. But she kept some distance between themthough his heat was a tantalizing presence that almost lured her closer.

The silence held for a littlewhile, broken only by Pidge tracing old, familiar constellations and Lancepointing out “new” ones.

“That’s the Paladin,” he said, his hand raised and fingertipdrawing two trapezoids in the sky.

“That’s Orion, you goofball,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes.

“No, it’s not,” Lance said. His elbow dug into her arm. “I’mrenaming it right now; the ancient Greeks aren’t here to say I can’t.”

Pidge chuckled, but when abreeze blew over them, stirring up the desert shrubs and making her shiver, shegave into temptation and scooted closer to him and the warmth he emanated.

“Then that over there is Rover,” she said, shaping a trianglebetween three bright stars.

Lance traced a jagged line fromfive stars and offered, “And that’s the Blade.”

“And there’s the Juniberry.” Pidge pointed at a cluster of starsthat vaguely resembled a flower. “And beside it is…the Princess.”

(Well, it was really Andromeda,but in the myth she was a princess sacrificed for her people too - but unlike their princess, she survived.)

“Lance,” Pidge said, cutting into their constellation hunting. Sheswallowed, her mouth dry and clumsy to shape the words, but she managed to say,“I told you why I changed my mind, but…I should tell you why I said no first.”

Lance sat up, for which she wasgrateful; she wasn’t sure she could speak to him about something so painfulwhile in a more…intimate position. She mirrored him, her legs crossed and herhands in her lap, and inhaled to calm her pounding heart.

“Pidge?” he prompted when the silence grew too long, too thick.

Well, time to pour her heartout and hope it wouldn’t bite her in the ass.

“I’ve had some kind of…feelings for you for a while,” sheexplained, careful to meet his eyes despite their proximity to the markingsomeone else - one of her best friends - left on his face. “I think I’ve likedyou - on and off sometimes - almost as long as I’ve known you.” She wrung thehem of her jacket, her embarrassment keeping her warm against the cold judgingby her sweaty armpits.

Lance’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that, Pidge. I’m sorry; maybe if Ihad—”

She shook her head, swallowingaround an irritating lump in her throat, and wondered, “Would it have changed anything if I told you? Maybe I’m not now,but I always would’ve been your second choice, and Allura was my friend too andI miss her so muchbut I can’t help thinking that you’ll always be comparing me to—”

Lance’s warm hands framing her face cut her off, her eyes flying wideas she stared up at him. “You can’t compare, Pidge.”

Her chest tightened, facecrumpling against her will and so quickly.“Th-that’s what I—”

“You’re a completely different person,” Lance reminded her. Thetip of his thumb slid under her eye, brushing away a tear she hadn’t realizedshe shed, before he let go.

When he pulled away, Pidgereleased a breath, but she couldn’t be relieved yet. “What doyou mean?” she wondered.

“I loved her and I miss her too,” Lance explained with a softsmile, “but it’s still…different with you, Pidge.” His intent gaze fell on her,and for once Pidge cared not a whit for the blue markings on his cheeks; theywere a part of him as much as his eyes or a quiznaking belly button. “Beingwith you is as easy as breathing…or, well, sometimes easier and sometimesharder.”

Pidge smiled unwittingly. “I guess it averages out then.”

Lance chuckled. “You would see it like that, but…” His hand found hers again, andthis time she didn’t hesitate to intertwine their fingers. “I don’t just wantone date with you, Pidge.”

Her breath caught but she said,“I…know that now, but are you sure?” A sigh escaped her, herfingers tightening around his, and she admitted, “I don’t want to let you hurtme again.”

“I don’t want that either,” he said. “I want…can I tell you what Iwant?” When Pidge nodded, finding it difficult to speak at the moment, hecontinued, “I want a lot of dates with you, and a lot of that time in between,and to”—his hand squeezed hers—”hold your hand whenever I want…whenever you’lllet me.”

“O-oh,” Pidge said, because it was all she could with it so hardto breathe.

“And I still want to do all the stuff we do as friends but…I wantmore with you, like you visiting the farm and Kaltenecker with me and spendingholidays with each other’s families and us going to team reunions together.” Hesmiled, something a touch hopeful and a touch apprehensive in it. “I want that,if you want it too.”

“Lance, I…” Pidge exhaled in a huff, trying to regain some levelof words withher skin so warm and her heart racing. “I want that,” she muttered,hoping to speak it into existence. “I want all of that with you.”

Lance’s grin widened, something so broad she wondered if his cheekswould be sore later, but it lightened her chest to see it…especially from soclose.

His hand cupped her cheek,breath warm on her face as he all but whispered, “Can I—”

“Yeah,” she said, somehow already breathless.

Lance kissed her softly,tilting her head back to capture her lips with his, while her hands gripped atthe front of his jacket. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, head spinningwith incredulity that this couldhappen, as his fingers slid into her hair and pulled her closer.

A sigh escaped Pidge when hisnose brushed hers, and she pulled back, her eyes fluttering open to meet his -a vivid blue even illuminated only by the full moon and a sky scattered withstars - and her breath short. A smile split her face as his forehead restedagainst hers, his own shallow breaths blooming across her skin.

“So, Katie…does this mean I can take you on a second date?” Lanceasked.

Pidge laughed - as stunned asshe was pleased when he spoke her real name - and reached up to run her fingersthrough his hair, if only because she could. “As long as you survive for it,”she teased. When his brow furrowed in confusion, she kissed the corner of hismouth and said, “There’s no telling how Keith will react when he finds out you borrowed his hoverbike.”