#Ezra loved her as a mother long before they understood that they saw her as their mother

[sunflowerdales]

Very early days of Ezra being adopted as Kahlia's ward, she began teaching them all kinds of subjects to get them caught up with their age group and to get them into formal education. Due to how receptive they were to learning, however, she didn't realise how much of the basics they needed to learn.

They could read and write very simple things, but the place they grew up had very limited education at best, and Ezra practically never showed up because they hated it.

Once in a safer and more nurturing environment where they could think more clearly and not be in survival mode constantly, they found a passion for learning and became particularly interested in history and and the arts.

[dyke-bars-never-last]

A brief biography of Natalie Clifford Barney

(October 31, 1876 – February 2, 1972)

Before the Barneys left for France, Alice Barney had her daughter’s portrait painted. Natalie remembered playing at being a page (boy attendant who carries messages) with one particularly pretty girl at school, who began to call Natalie her husband.

Natalie spent her teenage years in Washington D.C., at a home that Alice, an architect as well as a painter, had designed. Natalie often spent time with one of Vice President's daughters, riding their horses. Like most teenagers, the two talked about their crushes. Natalie’s friend favored “Lady C.,” a fancy debutante who the two friends sometimes saw in the streets of Washington. Natalie shared stories of Eva Palmer, her first true love. (Like almost all of Natalie’s future romantic matches, Eva had a penchant for poetry. The two began dating when Natalie was seventeen. )

“Even after I had come out I continued to send flowers, notes and poems to those I admired.”

(Natalie meant that she was “coming out” into society, as a young woman did when she reached an age that made her eligible for marriage. So although she was forced to “come out” into society in the historic context, Natalie also continued to “come out” in the modern context, courting the women she desired.)

It was in fact on a date with in Paris that she first saw Liane de Pougy drive by. Natalie’s date told her “She is nothing but a courtesan,” but Natalie was smitten and began sending flowers, eventually showing up at Pougy’s door in a recently acquired page costume. Natalie wanted to “save” Liane, even offering to marry a man to acquire the funding necessary to keep Liane from needing to do sex work. But Liane did not want to be saved.

Liane chronicled the couple’s journey in her book Idylle Sapphique. Barney wrote a less popular reply volume, which included her most famous quote:

“My queerness is not a vice, is not deliberate, and harms no one.”

In her return to Paris, her childhood friends introduced her to Renée Vivien, “who also wrote poetry,” and was also an out lesbian. Renée and Natalie fell in love, but later broke up due to Natalie’s desire for non-monogamy. Natalie was crushed, but never won Renée back.

While dating Renée, Natalie also began her long career as a writer, publishing her first book of poetry, including poetry dedicated to the women that Natalie loved and illustrations drawn by her mother. (Historians have speculated as to whether or not Alice Pike Barney understood the themes in her daughter’s writing, but she happily illustrated the book.)

In 1902, Natalie used her inheritance to open a long serving salon in her backyard on Rue de Jacob in Paris. Many of the great writers of the time gathered at Natalie’s salons each Friday, including Gertrude Stein, Colette, Ezra Pound, TS Eliot, F Scott Fitzgerald, Isadora Duncan, and later Truman Capote.

In 1927, when the Academie Francaise refused to add women to its ranks, Barney began her own "L'Académie des Femmes" (Women's Academy).

Her large garden featured a neoclassical temple inscribed on its pediment “A L’AMITIE” (to friendship). That amitié is a feminine noun made this motto especially appropriate to the rituals honoring female deities that Barney staged as part of her effort to re-create a circle of creative women lovers like the one she believed flourished around Sappho.

Acting on an Aesthetic determination to, in her words,

“find or found . . . a society composed of all those who seek to focus and improve their lives through an art that can give them pure presence,”

Barney created a community characterized by all the hallmarks of Aestheticism: eccentric elegance in dress, meticulous interior decor, love of erudite poetry, cultivation of wit, and indulgence in sensations beyond the bounds of conventional morality.

One of the attendees of Natalie’s salons was Radclyffe Hall, who later based a fictional character, Valerie Seymour, on Natalie Clifford Barney.

“For Valerie, placid and self-assured, created an atmosphere of courage, everyone felt normal and brave when they gathered together at Valerie Seymour’s….a kind of lighthouse in a storm-swept ocean.”

During World War I, many salons turned into war hospitals, but Natalie Clifford Barney was a pacifist and refused to support the war effort. Her salon continued.

During this time she began one of her longest lasting romantic relationships, with artist Romaine Brooks. Brooks accepted Barney’s need for an open relationship, so their romance lasted over fifty years.

During World War II, Natalie and Romaine lived together in Italy. Natalie was openly anti-fascist before the war, but her writing turned pro-fascist and anti-Semitic as the war raged on. Some have since claimed that she believed what she was writing, but it is equally possible that she was just trying to survive. It is believed that Barney was able to use her American citizenship to help save some Jewish neighbors from deportation to German camps. She never published her pro-fascist and anti-Semitic writings.

After the war, Barney came back to Paris and reopened her salon in 1949. Romaine Brooks remained in Italy, straining their relationship, but never ending Natalie’s affections

It was perhaps Romaine who offered the best descriptions of Natalie Clifford Barney over the years. Brooks was honest and unforgiving, but also gentle and adoring, saying Natalie was

“Perverse…dissolute, self-centered, unfair, stubborn, sometimes miserly, ” but also “…capable of loving someone just as they are, even a thief…”

“Natalie herself was a miracle…as fresh as a Spring morning….Her rebellion against conventions was not combative as was mine. She simply wanted to follow her own inclinations…”

As she wrote in her Pensee’s d’une Amazone

"Yes, you have to 'comply.'/I never complied and yet I am."

Do you consider yourself an idle person?

"I think one must be idle in order to become oneself.

If you have a profession you become part of that profession and it seems to me that's the idlest thing of all [laughs].

Because you'll become a function instead of a free-thinking individual.

Find out who you are and what you are and what other people are."

Some of the greatest writers and artists one can say of the century have placed your genius for friendship, these friendships through the virtue you value most.

"I think it's the most lasting and the most free of passing emotions. I've lied that I've never given up by friends. They give me up but I never give them up. A sense of loyalty and of choice."

Reed, Christopher. Art and Homosexuality. Oxford University Press, USA, 2011.

“Amazon, Empress, and Friend: The Life of Natalie Clifford Barney | Ohio History Connection.” Home | Ohio History Connection, https://www.ohiohistory.org/learn/collections/history/history-blog/march-2020/nataliecliffordbarney. Accessed 27 Nov. 2021.

BBC interview with Natalie Clifford Barney. Filmed in 1966.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Coach (1)

Fandom: Dylan O'Brien

Pairing: AU Dylan x Fem!Reader

Mini series summary: Being a newly single mom of two kids wasn't exactly easy. And love wasn't exactly part of your agenda. So, should you avoid lusting over your son's baseball coach? Absolutely. But with a man like Dylan, could you really resist? Probably not.

Warnings: nothing major yet, small sexual innuendo, mentions of cheating and divorce

WC: 1.9k

A/N: a yes, to those who have been following me for a while may recognize this title, it's my old Dylan AU fic. Yes I decided to continue it. Updates will come periodically, because I write spontaneously and I cant guarantee quick updates. But I do promise I wont wait a whole year to update. And since I did some slight updates in the first 2 parts I decided to archive the old ones and repost them again. So yeah, if you've read them before great, give it another read, my writing is much better now I promise and if you're new welcome, I hope you like this mini series.

(You are here, part 2, part 3)

Dylan stood by the side of the large field, near the home plate, occasionally yelling out suggestions and pointing out mistakes to the young boys. 

"Ezra! You have to watch the ball! C'mon! I know you can do better!" He called out to the blonde boy standing on the home plate with a bat in hand. Dylan then turned his attention to the dark haired boy with the baseball mitt and ball in hand.

"Roman! What's going on, buddy? You gotta focus, alright? You gotta work on that throw!" Dylan called out to the young boy, who half nodded and sighed heavily in response.

Not long after, Dylan signaled the young boys scattered throughout the large field to gather around. He spoke some encouraging words to the boys before allowing them to disperse and gather their equipment which meant practice was over.

Your son, however, stayed behind for a minute. There was an inaudible conversation happening between Dylan and your ten year-old, Roman. You watched from the bleachers as your son made some tired gestures at his coach followed by a small pat on the back from Dylan. You couldn't help but follow them with your eyes as they made their way to the bleachers, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the brown haired coach. An action that wasn't taken lightly by the female sitting beside you.

"You're staring at him again." Your best friend, Ezra's mother, Eliza -or just Liz, commented.

"I'm not." You muttered out quickly, tearing your eyes away from the handsome coach, your mouth hanging open for a couple of seconds. "I wasn't staring." You stated matter of factly and shrugged as you looked down at the small six year-old sitting on your lap, making sure she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

"Really? The drool coming from your mouth says otherwise." Liz playfully ran her finger across your chin, pretending to wipe away at it. You slightly glared at her, an eye roll going her way.

"I'm not drooling. I wasn't even staring." You tried to defend yourself, making a small sassy gesture to her.

"Hey, I don't blame you. If I wasn't married," she took a pause as she eyed Dylan as he removed his baseball hat to run a hand through his messy chocolate locks, you couldn't help but stare as well. "I'd jump on his bones any day."

"Hey, there's young ears present." You said quietly to Liz as not to disturb the young girl in your arms.

Despite your attempt not to, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to fall once again on the field, following the handsome male that was the topic of your conversation. You had to hide the infatuated sigh that left your lips at the sight of your son's coach running around the field, talking to the kids and picking up equipment.

"Well he is handsome, I'll give him that.." You admitted quietly, "and he's really good with the kids."

Your friend smirked slightly at your words and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"I bet that's not the only thing he's really good at." She eyed you suggestively and slightly nudged at you with her shoulder, "You should find out what other things he's good at."

Your mouth instantly fell open and your eyes widened at the insinuation.

"Eliza! Oh, my god. Don't say that." You slightly shook your head to brush off the embarrassment and hid your face on your hands to cover the crimson on your skin.

"Mommy you're warm!" Athena, your six year-old giggled as she grabbed your warm, sweaty hands. Even your daughter noticed the nervousness that crept up on you when it came to Dylan, even if it was just the topic of him. Truth was, you had been shamelessly crushing on your son's baseball coach ever since he joined the team a couple of months ago. 

Get it together, you should not be crushing on your son's baseball coach.

"I know baby, it's just hot out here." You tried to brush it off, but the knowing smirk on Liz's face wasn't exactly helping. "Thena, why don't you go get Roman and Ezra? They're over there." You pointed to the field where Roman and Ezra were talking —or more like just Ezra was, to the other kids on the team. She quickly nodded and bolted off the bleachers, somehow not tripping over the steps as she went down. You sighed heavily the moment the young girl was far enough and slightly turned your head in Liz's direction.

"You should totally ask him out." She said out of nowhere with a shrug and a smirk on her face. Your eyes widened for the hundredth time, and you instantly shook your head frantically, the idea alone giving you a headache.

"Ask Dylan out? No way. I.. No.. That's just.. No." Your cheeks slightly heat up at the preposition. But you quickly turned it down with a vigorous shake of your head, not even giving the idea a minute to sink into your brain. "No, he's Roman's coach. It's just wrong."

"Why? I mean, you're single, and as far as I know, he's very single. Soo," she dragged the 'o' as she wiggled her eyebrows and she nudged your shoulder, pushing you over a little in a high school girl manner, "Why not get ready to mingle with the hot coach?"

"First of all, I'm technically not single, not yet." You groaned with an eyeroll. As much as you and your husband —or ex-husband or whatever were no longer living together, the divorce process had been unnecessarily long and dreadful. So as much as you wanted to be legally single, you were still married to that piece of shit. 

"And second of all, if I were to date someone, which is a big if, I can't date Roman's coach out of all people. He already has enough as it is. It'll just confuse him and probably upset him more." You sighed heavily as you looked over to the side of the field, where all the boys were having a conversation about elementary boys' things. And there you saw your son, trying, and ultimately failing at joining said conversations. And with little Athena tugging at his side, all he got from the other kids was laughing and rejection.

Seeing your son's sad and hurt expression when the other boys laughed at him or even told him to go away broke your heart. You wanted him to be happy again. You wanted him to be the energetic and loving kid he was before your waste of a husband left. Ever since Ryan —your waste of a husband left, Roman hasn't been the same. 

For the past six or so months, he has been distant and seemingly unhappy. All he ever did was lock himself up in his room and play video games. He barely ever interacted with you and Athena anymore. He barely interacted with anyone, period. Once Ryan left, it was up to you to support your kids financially. Of course, their father still paid child support, but he sure as hell didn't pay your bills or everything you needed to spend on your children. Which meant you had to take him out of the fancy school he went to in order to still pay the monthly expenses of your home. And he just didn't quite fit in at school, especially now. 

So, you hoped that him joining the baseball team would change that, that it would help him open up again and that it would help him make new friends. But so far, it's worked just the opposite.

"So, I'm making dinner tonight. Do you want to come over with the kids and get drunk? Luke will watch over the kids." Liz spoke, interrupting your train of thought.

"That sounds a-mazing," you spoke in a song-like tune, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips. "But I can't. I told Roman I'd take him to that Italian place he likes."

"Tomorrow then. I'll have that Chardonnay you love so much waiting for you." She winked at you as you both stood up, ready to greet your children.

"Thank God for your alcohol stash." You joked, flinging your arms up in praise. 

You both laughed and smiled in your children's direction, but your smile dropped as your kids and Ezra approached you. Ezra was holding Athena's hand, while Roman walked behind them, with a certain heaviness on his step and an annoyed look on his face. And Athena had a small pout on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Rome doesn't want to hold my hand!" Athena whined with a pout of her lower lip. She released Ezra's hand and exchanged it for your own. Ezra going to his own mom. While Roman simply stood there, with a hand stuffed into his pockets and the other messing with the strap of his bag, his gaze stuck on the ground.

"Roman, baby," you sighed softly, not wanting to give the poor kid a hard time. You understood he didn't exactly fit in, no matter how much he wanted to, and that upset him. You didn't want to add up to that. "Your sister just wanted you to hold her hand."

"She was embarrassing me.. I'm already the kid without a dad, I don't need to be the kid with an annoying  baby sister." He muttered, his gaze not once leaving the ground.

 His words were harsh, but lacked emotion. And it broke your heart. But as much as you wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that he did have a dad, you'd be lying if you did. Ryan was already absent in your children's lives before the split, but at the same time he was there, and Roman felt as if he was. But now, his father really wasn't there, at all. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You sighed softly, gesturing your free hand out for him, "Roman, come here," a heavy sigh left the young boy's lips as he took a few steps closer, standing in front of you with his head hanging low and his eyes stuck to the ground. You used your hand to hold the side of his face, his eyes meeting with your own. "Baby, Thena just wanted to show you that she loves you. She didn't mean to embarrass you, right Thena?" You turned your attention to the small girl that hid behind your arm, her eyes glistening with tears.

The small girl sniffled and shook her head, "No.. I'm sorry Rome.. I won't do it ever again, I-I promise."

You exchanged looks between your children, your eyes finally landing on Roman as you waited for a response. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes speaking a silent 'and' to the boy. He eventually signed, almost too heavily, and nodded. 

"It's okay, I guess.. I don't really mind all that much." He half smiled, shrugging slightly.

Athena's expression quickly lightened, the small girl detached herself from your hand and hugged her older brother. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't mind the affection. He returned the hug and smiled, for a moment at least.

After a second or two, Roman slightly pushed Athena off him, signaling that that had been enough affection for a day. You breathed out softly, turning to look at Liz, who gave you a sympathetic smile in response. 

"Well my loves, off we go. Say goodbye to Auntie Liz and Ezra." Both your children did as you said. Athena hugging both of them, and Roman simply waving at them. Good enough.

And at last, you gave Liz a quick but tight hug, "I'll call you tomorrow." You said shortly before you grabbed a hold of your daughter's hand and your son's bag, and eventually parted ways.

Today was gonna be a long day.

《Here's an edited version of part 1. As always I hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm trying to get back into writing after a long year, hopefully this will help me get back on track. Let me know your thoughts. And let me know if you'd like to be added to my dylan/coach taglist which I do have》

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Epilogue

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

          “Alf?”

           “You alright, love? I heard you getting a bit heated over the phone.” Alfie was at the sink, gently washing the sand off Ezra’s feet. Father and son had been out on the beach that morning watching the waves and the sea birds overhead.

           “I was on the phone with Tommy.” Ella set Sofia down so she could go to Alfie.

           “I figured that much.” He replied sympathetically.

           She walked around to stand by the sink. Ezra gave her a gummy smile, squirming a bit because of the cold water on his toes. Ella grabbed a towel to give to Alfie so he could dry Ezra off. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

           “About what, love?” He asked, shutting off the sink and taking the towel from his wife.

           “Just…everything. Tommy was going on and on about how things used to be. I mean-I understand where he’s coming from. He spent all that time looking toward the future, looking at what he could have instead of appreciating what he did have. Now he regrets it because look at everything that’s happened. We’ve lost so many people. But…I like what I have now. I can’t look to the past anymore.”

           “I hate to say it, but your brother’s gone and dug his own grave, hasn’t he? He wanted power and this is what it gave him. The man doesn’t know when to quit.” Alfie wiped off Ezra’s feet even though the toddler gave him a bit of a hard time, kicking his legs and giggling like mad.

           “But we know when to step away, right?” Ella asked quietly.

           Alfie set Ezra down so he could dry his hands off. “What’s the matter, love? Talk to me.”

           Ella wrapped her arms around herself, thoroughly shaken by the world around her. When once she had been so fearless, she was becoming aware of how chaotic things could become. “I’m scared that we’re going to lose everything we’ve worked for.”

           “We’re not gonna lose anything. What are you afraid of losing?” Alfie wasn’t looking to ridicule his wife, he saw the fear in her eyes, and in turn, it worried him. One of his primary jobs was to comfort her.

           “I’m afraid of losing you, I’m afraid of losing the twins, I-I’m afraid of losing my sanity, Alfie.” Her voice broke. “I never expected any of this to happen. Th-this has all gone too far and I can’t take it anymore.”

           “It’s alright love.” He embraced her, pulling her to his chest.

           “It’s not alright, Alfie. I’m not going to give you up because of the things Tommy does. But there are things in this world that I can’t stop.”

           Alfie was starting to pick up on the root of her worry. After all, Mosley was just one man. They could deal with individuals, gangs even. But when there was some sort of movement, with an unknown amount of people following? Well, they couldn’t exactly fight off the world, could they? Even if Tommy Shelby liked to think he could. “The world we’re living in, s’not ideal, is it? But there are more people who are willing to fight this than are willing to stay quiet.”

           “How do you know that?” She asked.

           “Because I fought in a bloody war for the sake of this country.” He reminded her. “I don’t doubt that we’d do it again if we’re threatened again.”

           “But they’re here, Alfie. There are people in Britain who would rather see you hung than fight for you.”

           There were things that Alfie could brush off. He could brush off her brother’s disdain for him. He could brush off the slurs that Darby was so fond of calling him. He could even brush off that he was shot in the eye. But he couldn’t brush off his wife’s concern for him. “What would you suggest we do then, love?” He asked softly, gently petting her hair.

           “I think we should just go somewhere else.” She whispered. “We can go to America, we can put this behind us.”

           “There are fascists in America, El. There ain’t a place on this Earth that’s pure.” He told her truthfully. “America might be further away, but it ain’t much different.”

           Ella couldn’t argue with that. She knew that it didn’t matter how far she went. It didn’t matter if she changed her last name from Shelby. She would always be involved in Tommy’s game. It was her birthright. Something would always bring her back.

           “Mumma.”

           Ella drew away from Alfie so she could scoop Ezra up. “I won’t lose them.” She whispered. It had been painful enough to lose her twins before they were even born. But to lose Ezra and Sofia after she had bonded with them? Ella knew she would never be able to come back from that.

           Alfie nodded. “Well, we’ve got more than enough money to retire. We can sell the bakery, sell the flat in Camden. We can stay here for the rest of our lives.”  

           “I’m scared.”

           “I know. It’s a scary world, but you know we can make it work. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           For the next few years, Ella lived her life very removed from her family. That wasn’t to say she never saw them. She made a habit to keep in touch but wouldn’t involve herself in any business matters. She was vocal about Tommy’s mental state but there wasn’t anything anyone could do. It was all in his hands. And he continued on as the soldier he was.

           Lizzie and Polly confided in Ella often, if only to make sure they weren’t going crazy because of Tommy’s behavior. But they also respected that Ella was raising her own family and had more than enough good reasons to keep her distance.

           For the most part, she and Alfie remained at Margate with the children. Retired and happy to be retired, Alfie was content staying by the ocean. They returned to Camden for special occasions or to see friends and family. But Ella felt much more comfortable at Margate. Going back to London was just another reminder of the trouble brewing. There was unrest, not just in the city, and not just in the country. It was across the continent and Ella felt like everyone was just holding their breath, waiting for the powder keg to explode again.

           Outside of the city, however, she felt much more removed from it all. She could truly enjoy her life as being a wife and mother. She had gained the peace she had always looked forward to.

           As the twins grew, their personalities started to blossom and it was such a lovely thing to see.

           Sofia was a rambunctious little girl who loved the outdoors. One of her favorite things was to trawl the shoreline with Alfie by her side so she could find little sea critters in tide pools. Or sometimes she’d crouch in the garden, hunting for bugs and earthworms. A day without getting her clothes stained with dirt or covered in sand was not a day well spent in Sofia’s eyes.

           Ezra was on the shyer side. He became very bashful when talking to people he didn’t know well and would cling to Ella when they were visiting others in Camden. But he was curious in his own way. Often times, he would have long discussions with his father, simply asking endless questions about how things worked. Where the sun went at night, how did clocks know the time, how did the record player work, why did Cyril have a tail and he didn’t, how come birds fly, how big is the moon. Any little thing would pique his curiosity and he would rush to Alfie for information.

           Trouble was, Alfie wasn’t too sure how to answer his questions most of the time. There were some things he could explain, but most of Ezra’s questions were beyond his expertise. It was a blessing, then, that Ezra learned to read at a very young age. He absorbed books like a sponge and it was hard to get him to stop reading and go to bed.

           Their differing personalities positively enchanted Ella. Despite how difficult motherhood was, she was so happy to take the journey. Every day, her children surprised her and gave her another reminder of how blessed she was.

           It was a difficult balance, trying to keep her children safe while still allowing them to have a relationship with their kin. It was easier to have them around the people from Camden. They grew up with the other children of Ella’s friends and came to know the people they would consider like aunts and uncles.

           But with Birmingham, Ella was very cautious. She understood how easy it was to be swept up into the Shelby Company Limited. Her cousin Michael was a great example. Although raised outside of the family, once he was back in, there was no going back. Ella refused to allow her children to be roped in. Perhaps she was being over-skeptical of her own family. But she was willing to be over-cautious rather than let her guard down.

           Still, she allowed her children to attend parties and holidays with the Shelby family. It was tense, at least in Ella’s shoes. She watched her brothers like a hawk whenever they were around the twins.

~~~~~~~~~~

           One bright summer afternoon, while celebrating Finn’s birthday at Arrow House, Tommy came over to his sister.

           She was sitting in the shade, watching her children play with their cousins on the lawn. Cyril and Anthea were running around with them, just as happy. Alfie was talking with Polly a bits away. The two had grown a well-formed relationship of respect. Polly liked that he had taken care of Ella all those years and Alfie appreciated Polly’s sanity.

           Tommy took a seat beside his sister and pulled out a cigarette. He coughed a bit as he lit it.

           “Y’know, some people are saying smoking is bad for you.” She said. “Maybe you should cut down.”

           “Lots of things in life are bad for you.” He replied and took a drag from the cigarette anyways.

           “Charlie looks so much like Grace now.” Ella did everything in her power to avoid arguments at family functions. She knew there was no point, nothing she could do would change anyone’s minds especially Tommy’s.

           Charlie was kicking a football back and forth with Karl, trying to keep the ball from Anthea. He was so grown from the little toddler that he once was. He was nearly a teenager, had grown like a weed, and indeed was nearly the spitting image of his mother.

           “He’s been asking about her,” Tommy told Ella. “He knows Lizzie isn’t his biological mother, so he’s been asking about Grace.”

           “What did you tell him?”

           “That we lost her before he was old enough to remember her. I gave him all the photographs I had of her. I don’t know what else to do.”

           “I don’t think there’s much else you can do.” Ella shrugged.

           The siblings went quiet for a moment. Tommy smoking and Ella watching the children play.

           “Do you trust me, El?” He asked out of nowhere.

           “Trust you?”

           “Yeah.”

           She glanced over at him to gauge whether he was trying to get a rise out of her or not. But he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. “Why are you asking that?”

           “Because it seems like anytime I’m near Ezra or Sofia, you’re looking at me like I’m about to kidnap them or feed ‘em to a lion.”

           She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even say that.”

           “So, you completely trust me, then? I’m just overthinking things, aye?” He challenged.

            Ella crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

           “You’re kin, Ella. They’re kin. Fuck it, even Alfie is kin by now. You really think I’m going to bring them harm?”

           “I trust that you want what’s best for everyone. I trust that all those years ago, you made a conscious decision to help this family. I trust that maybe you didn’t anticipate all of this, and if you had known maybe you never would’ve done any of it. I know you’re a good man, Tommy. I know the person you were growing up. I just…I wish you would quit this. I thought so many times that this would be the one thing that would make you stop. But every time, no matter what happened, you kept at it. I know that if you don’t stop, you’ll be killed. And if that’s something you accept then…there’s nothing else I can do.” She sighed heavily. “But I have to protect my children from that fate. I know you don’t want this for our kids. You said so many times that if we had children, they would never grow up the same way we did. We were supposed to be the ones to stop the cycle, Tom.”

           “I know.” He said in a rare tone of assent.

           “I’m scared,” Ella admitted, trying to keep her composure for the sake of the party. “I’m so fucking scared of everything in this world now, Tommy.”

           Tommy had always known his sister to be fearless. Now it seemed that motherhood had brought up new fears in her. Maybe because she knew what it was like to grow up poor in a dangerous neighborhood. She was familiar with guns before she even went to school. She’d seen death and violence at an early age. It was only a natural instinct to want better for her children. But it didn’t mean she had to have such a crippling fear of everything. “Things are gonna be alright, El.”

           “That’s what Alfie says, that’s what everyone says but I’m not blind!” She exclaimed. “I know that it’s only a matter of time ‘fore…”

           “Before what?” He asked gently.

           Ella shook her head. “It’s a cycle, Tommy, it’s always a cycle. Do you know what I prayed for every night while you and Arthur and John were in France?”

           Tommy could only imagine. She was so young back then. “I don’t-tell me.”

           “I prayed that you three would all come back home safe. And when you did, I prayed that you’d all find nice women and settle down. I prayed that you would all have good lives and be at peace. But then I saw you at the train station and I knew that would never happen. The things you saw over there, the things that happened…I know why you three changed, I get it. But I never anticipated what would happen after that.”

           “I know.”

           Ella looked down at her hands, almost too tired to continue going around in circles with him. Facts were facts and the past was the past. “Do you think we’re going to go to war?”

           Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

           She swallowed and chewed on her lip. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

           What else could he say? His nightmares were growing more severe, the shovels were getting louder.

           “It terrifies me.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After Finn’s birthday party, Ella felt a little more forgiving toward her family. Maybe if they understood her anxiety, she could trust them a bit more. She also knew that there was no use arguing with Tommy. Both of them understood what it felt like for their sanity to slowly trickle away. They understood what it felt to have the world on their shoulders. They were too alike to blame one another.

           One night, back in Margate, Ella was coming in from bringing Cyril and Anthea out. She shrugged off her coat and hung up the dog leashes. Anthea bolted to Ezra’s bedroom while Cyril hobbled down the hall. The bullmastiff was getting up in age but still had the same docile demeanor he had when she had met him for the first time in London as a pup.

           Ella gave the old dog a pat. “Good boy.” She said softly and followed him into Ezra’s room where Alfie was reading a bedtime story to the twins.

           “My armor is like tenfold…”

           “No, Smaug is still talking so you’ve gotta do the voice!” Ezra protested.

           Alfie chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He cleared his throat and began to rumble in a deep, menacing voice. “My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail is a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath…death!” He read from The Hobbit dramatically.

           Sofia and Ezra laughed, delighted by all the voices their father did for every book he read them. It was commonplace. Alfie always read to them even if he struggled with the strain on his one good eye and often got headaches.

           The eight-year-old twins were always insistent that he read to them, and Alfie wasn’t exactly complaining. He loved their rapt expressions as he read. Sofia often laid on the bed, petting Cyril or Anthea as she imagined the scene her father was describing. Ezra cuddled up close to Alfie in the crook of his arm so he could try and read along with his father. Sometimes he’d stop Alfie and point to a word he didn’t understand, asking for the definition.

           Sometimes, Ella would sit in just to spend those last few moments of the day with her family. But that night, it had grown too late.

           “It’s late, my loves.” She interrupted.

           Sofia looked up and pulled a pout. “Nooooo, mummy it’s not that late!”

           “It’s summer!” Ezra chimed in.

           “It is quite late.” Ella walked into the room.

           “Mum’s right.” Alfie dog-eared the page in the book and began to untangle himself from the children, Ezra on his arm and Sofia sprawled over his legs.

           “But dad hasn’t finished the chapter,” Ezra whined.

           “S’a long chapter, mate.” His father stood and helped him under the covers. “We’ll pick up on the rest of it tomorrow.” He promised. “Not much left of this book anyhow, don’t want to go storming through the rest. Best we take our time ‘n savor it, aye?” He scooped Sofia up so he could bring her to her bedroom.

           Ella tucked Ezra in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight my love.”

           Cyril took his place in his bed on the floor of Ezra’s room. It was remarkable because the old dog liked sleeping in the little boy’s room. Ella guessed it was because Ezra spent so much time inside reading with Cyril snoozing beside him on the sofa. Meanwhile, Anthea chose to sleep in Sofia’s room. She was very fond of the little girl who always took her out for adventures outside.

           So, Anthea followed them as they brought Sofia across the hall. She hopped up on the bed and curled up by Sofia’s feet.  

           Alfie and Ella kissed her goodnight before retiring to their own bedroom.

           Ella sank into bed as Alfie got ready for the night.

           “Y’know, I like the voices you do too.” She commented.

           “Aye?” He chuckled.

           “Your dragon voice is very nice.”

           “Nice?” He grinned and tossed his shirt to the side. Striding over, he grabbed his wife’s ankles to tug her down the bed.

           She stifled a squeal and giggled. “Alfie!”

           “Hush now. Don’t go waking up the whole house.” He murmured in a low voice and began to creep up her body until they were face to face.

           “Or what? You’ll eat me up?” She teased; her heart started to flutter in her chest. After years of being together, Alfie still never failed to make her swoon. It felt like every night she fell in love with him all over again. Whether they made love or she simply just fell asleep in his arms.

           He laughed and captured her lips with his. One hand pressed into the bed while the other lightly grazed down her side before resting on her thigh.

           When he drew back, she wove her fingers into his hair and pecked his lips a few more times. “I love you, Alfie Solomons.” She murmured.

           “And I love you too, Ella Solomons.” He replied, looking down at her with so much adoration in his eyes.

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

           August 1940, the Solomons family traveled out to Small Heath. The twins’ birthday had been a few days earlier but they were now going to celebrate with Ella’s side of the family.

           It was a strange time to be celebrating anything. The continent was at war yet again. It had been almost a year since Britain declared war and started to mobilize. Ella got horrifying flashbacks off the time her brothers had been at war. It was so difficult to fathom that they would live through a repeat of the Great War. But this time, eyes were turned to the next generation. The generation that had been too young to fight, now they were ready.

           Ella urged Polly to do everything she could to keep the Peaky boys off the front lines. But it was futile, not with how headstrong they all were, and not with the draft initiated.

           Now they could all only hope this war wouldn’t last as long as the first one did. They could only hope it wouldn’t be as gruesome and wouldn’t claim as many lives.

           “Erdington then Castle Bromwich,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he stood by the kitchen counter, drink in hand.

           “They’re trying to get a better target.” Tommy agreed with a grim look.

           “Enough.” Polly shushed the men, pointing a cake knife at them. “No talk of the war, not tonight. Let the children be children.”

           “Sorry, Pol,” Arthur mumbled.

           Of course, the war was on all of their minds. It was nearly impossible to ignore it.

            Polly brought the two cakes over to set in front of Sofia and Ezra. As she lit the candles, the family gathered around the table and began to sing Happy Birthday.

           Ella was ready with her camera to take a picture of them as Alfie stood behind them, with a proud look on his face.

           But the moment didn’t last long.

           A loud explosion rocked the very ground and was almost immediately followed by a high pitched siren that had become so common to hear in the cities.

           The men who fought reacted the quickest. Alfie grabbed Sofia and Ezra by the hand and hurried them to the cellar doors. Polly gathered the rest of the children as Arthur hurried them all along. Ella set her camera down on the table and blew out the birthday candles so they wouldn’t catch anything on fire. Tommy shut the lights off in the house, making sure everything was off upstairs as well.

           Once dark, he glanced out the window.

           “Tommy, c’mon.” Ella urged and grabbed her brother by the arm.

           The two headed downstairs where the rest of the family was hiding out from the air raid.

           They knew it was a possibility it was a false alarm. There had been dozens. But there was no telling either way.

           “Mummy!” Sofia wailed.

           “I’m here, I’m here.” Ella hushed her softly and gathered her into her arms. Alfie held her and the twins close, gently soothing them.

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

           It wasn’t a false alarm. Bombs shook the city with such intensity that everyone in the cellar was praying silently or out loud. It felt like they were down there for days when it was mere hours.

           No one could sleep that night. In the morning, Ella left the house, she couldn’t listen to the radio anymore. She walked down to the Bullring and found it in ruins. The buildings had been gutted and ash was covering the ground.

           It was nearly impossible to fully comprehend. People around her stood and stared at the scene in shock as well. Some were crying, others were too lost to react.

           Ella was in such a state that she didn’t notice Tommy standing next to her for a good while. When she did, she glanced up at him.

           He saw the same scared little girl who asked her older brothers not to go to France. She was too afraid they wouldn’t come back. She was still there, the scared girl who was afraid of what war would bring her family.

           “I’ve got a few leads on houses in the countryside. Plenty of space for you and the kids.” Tommy said quietly.

           “We have Margate.”

           “Alfie wants to stay away from any city or town. Anything that might become a target. The country is the best option.”

           “You spoke to him?”

           “Last night.”

           Ella’s stomach was in knots. “Okay.”

           He nodded. “Stay in Margate until then.”

           “We will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was still at the flat with the rest of the family when Ella returned. He was sitting by the radio with Arthur, both of them silent. Ezra was laying on the carpet, drawing while Sofia sat on Alfie’s lap.

           Arthur turned the volume down a bit when his sister came in. “Alright, El?”

           “Yeah, I think we’re going to go back to Margate.” She said quietly.

           Alfie nodded. “Sof and Ez go get your things, yeah?”

           The kids got up to gather their things as Alfie stood up from the armchair. “Did Tommy talk to you about our plan?”

           She nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

           “That’s okay?”

           “We need to keep them safe.” She concluded. “Anyway, we can.”

           “Okay.” He kissed her forehead and rubbed her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

           It didn’t take long before Tommy bought the Solomons a place in the countryside. A lovely little home with a sprawling garden and plenty of space for the twins and the dogs.

           He saw them off at the train station. Most likely, it would be some time before they saw one another again. Knowing Ella, she would keep her children in the safest possible place until they were guaranteed safety in the outside world. Tommy knew he had to respect that.

           “Bye Uncle Tommy.” Ezra and Sofia chimed off, each giving him a big hug.

           “Be good for mum and dad, aye?” He said gently. “Make sure you give everyone a call once and a while, okay?”

           “Okay!”

           “Tom.” Alfie gave his brother-in-law a hearty handshake. “Thanks, mate.”

           “Of course.”

           Ella swallowed her tears as she hugged Tommy next. “Thank you.”

           “I should’ve done this for you when you asked all those years ago. When you wanted to be free and safe.”

           “I never would’ve met Alfie if you did.” She pointed out with a tearful smile.

           “I guess so.” He chuckled and let go of her.

           “Right, ready then?” Alfie helped the kids up into the car of the train then held a hand out to his wife.

           She nodded. “Ready.”  

-The end

//Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this long! It was so hard to end this but I leave the rest up to season 6 and see how things go from there. Huge thanks to my tag lists. If you’re interested my masterlist of all my oneshots and series are pinned to the top of my blog and my requests are open.I’m currently working on a new Alfie series so stay tuned. In the mean time I have a lot of Alfie one shots with more on the way as well as plenty of Tommy content. 

Thank you again!

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Poetry for an Heiress, Chapter 7

Word Count: 5k

Summary: When a duchess and her children are abandoned far from home, they must rely on the kindness of one stranger to guide them home.

Warnings: None! (for this chapter

HERE YALL GO. I'm sorry this chapter was late getting out. November is Trauma Center(TM) month for me and my brain meats have a hard time keeping up. I love y’all.

"Princess, would you care to accompany me into town?" Ezra asked softly one morning. He set the book he was reading down on the table and looked at you with a fond smile. 

"Of course. We just went the other day, did you forget something?" you asked, setting your tea cup down on the table. A few months ago, you never would have even considered leaving the children here alone. Now, it felt different. You felt more comfortable leaving them alone for a while. "I'm sure the children will be okay for an hour or so, won't they?"

"I guarantee it," he hummed. "I just wanted to get you a few things for... for when you leave."

You couldn't help but notice the hesitation in his voice as he mentioned your imminent departure. He had been toeing around the entire thing for the past few days and quite frankly, you had been grateful. It pained you to think that you might never see him again when you left. 

You felt that by not bringing up the fact that there was a perfectly good vessel he had commissioned for you ready to go, maybe you could stay just a little bit longer. The children certainly wouldn't mind. You had mentioned it off handedly to them one afternoon and it broke your heart when they assumed Ezra would be coming along.

You stood up from the table and dusted off your dress. Your clothes had never seen this much wear and they definitely were showing it since your arrival. They fit the environment now, worn-in, friendly, comfortable. Your skin itched at the mere thought of going back to scratchy gowns and beaded chemises.

As much as you detested the idea of going back, it felt a necessary evil, unfortunately. Your grandmother was likely to step down from the throne soon, and your mother would take her place. You would be next. Then Aiden. It was a never ending cycle and one you grew to loathe with every passing minute here. The thought of you remaining here with Ezra forever with the children felt like a fantasy story.

Soon there would be no long nights where you would make up stories for the children together. No meals cooked together. No walks to the market.

"I would be happy to go with you," you said with a smile. You might as well take advantage of what little time you had left together. 

You looked at the children as they played in the yard. The boys had grown like weeds in the warm days of Muir. Their trousers were too short now, their shirts just a bit too small. Marie, your little bug, her hair had gotten longer and lighter in the sun. 

"We're going into town for a minute," Ezra explained as he eyed the children up and down. "Now, I don't want to come home to find my barn and field razed to the ground. And your mother and I want you all in one piece. Understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Ezra," the children mumbled as they glanced toward you. You only raised your brow in agreement with Ezra.

"Mama!" Marie called as she bounced excitedly in front of you. "Are you and Mr. Ezra going a-courting?"

You blushed and Ezra chuckled beside you. "Are you watching those old princess pictures again, little bird?" Ezra asked, kneeling down in front of her. He gently ruffled her curls and smiled. "Your mama deserves a prince to court her! Not an old scoundrel like me!"

You tried not to hear the sadness in his voice. It seemed he was just as hesitant about you leaving as you were. "We'll be back soon. No wild horseplay, children!"

You took Ezra's arm and walked with him to the back gate towards town. His arm was warm and reassuring against you, bracing you for what Aiden murmured as you walked away.

"I guess we aren't gonna have a father after all, huh?" he whispered to his brother and sister.

"We were so close this time," Henry mumbled.

You wiped your eyes as Ezra unlatched the gate and helped you out over the little brook. Neither of you looked at one another until you hit the main road entering town.

"Ezra, I'm sorry--" you started as you reached the town limits, wanting to apologize for the children's behavior.

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "It's alright, Princess. I understand the children's disappointment. I hope that when you arrive safely back at your palace, you will find someone who truly deserves you."

You stared at Ezra in silent shock, tears flowing down your cheeks. Did he not know how you felt about him? How much you care for him? "Please, Ezra. Don't say that."

He shook his head. "I only want what is best for you, Princess. And the children."

You started to reply, but were cut off by someone calling for Ezra. The man from a few days ago, Charlie, was jogging towards you both, his hand waving to get your attention. 

"Ez, hey," Charlie panted as he approached. He turned to you and bowed lowly to greet you. "Highness. Ez, I finally got the fuel siphoned over from the Veskar."

You turned your head so neither man would see your tears. It seemed as though your dreams of staying here were just that. Dreams. 

"Well now, that's just fantastic news," Ezra exclaimed, clapping Charlie on the shoulder. "I'll stop over to discuss specifics later, as we're on a supply run at the moment."

Charlie nodded and bowed to you again. "I look forward to seeing you again, Princess," he said with a smile as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

"Alright, thank you," Ezra said firmly as he led you away from Charlie. He glared at the other man as you walked down the street together.

You quickly wiped your tears away and smiled at the small glimpse of jealousy that shone through. Even if you two weren't able to be together, he was still fiercely protective of you. 

"Back to the general store," he said, holding the door open for you. He stepped in behind you and shut the door firmly. 

The store was fairly busy this time of day. By the looks of it, there were a few harvesters and farm hands scouring the shelves for supplies. A rather terrifying looking man was positioned on a stack of crates in the back of the store, keeping an eagle eye out for shoplifters. 

"Morning, Ezra!" Marta called brightly from behind the counter. She finished totalling up a rather grizzled looking mercenary's order and held out her hand as he counted out the credits. 

Ezra nodded in her direction and kept a firm hand on your back as he guided you towards boxes of canned and packaged goods. He picked up a few items and handed them to you to put into the backpack he'd brought. 

After he'd picked a few, he turned and nodded towards the counter, gesturing for you to head to Marta.

She smiled at you as you handed her the backpack fill of goods. She began to count and total the purchases, humming softly as she worked.

Ezra glanced over his shoulder and patted your arm. "I'll bring right back, Princess. Just hang on one second." He disappeared from your side and pushed his way through the other occupants.

"Are you headed back home?" Marta asked as she tallied your order. She frowned when she saw how unhappy you looked in response. "You don't have to go, you know. I've never seen Ezra so damn happy as when he's with you and those kids. If you stayed, he'd would be over the moon. The boy needs a family."

You brushed a tear away and sighed. Every sign was pointing you to stay with him, yet you knew you just couldn't. 

"I--"

"Here we go, Marta, ring that up too, would you kindly?" Ezra asked, plopping down an extra fuel can. He glanced between Marta's frown and your solemn expression and then sighed. "Sorry, Mar. Excuse us for just a minute." He pulled you over to the side and brushed your tears away. "Princess, what's wrong? Did one of those prospectors say something?"

You shook your head and let out a sob. "No, it's not that-- you've just been so kind and helpful and I still haven't found a way to repay you!"

Ezra shook his head and tugged you against his chest. "Princess, no, it's alright. Don't cry. Come on, let me pay and I'll take you home. Why don't you wait outside for me? You can get some air."

You nodded and rushed out, not wanting the mercenaries and prospectors to see you. As you stepped outside, you looked up to the pale sky above. Since your arrival, a large purple planet had entered orbit, rising along the eastern horizon. You remembered the boys asking about it, and the story Ezra had told about how the purple planet, Doranastrus, chased after the morning star. They were constantly just out of one another's gravitational pull. Ezra had watched you the entire time he told the story. That had been a few months ago now, but you hadn't forgotten the story. 

"I'm a fool," you whispered to yourself.

An old woman wandered down the street and stopped in front of you. She regarded you with a nod and looked you up and down. "Is your husband the one with the two goats? He rents them to eat grasses?"

The bell on the shop door tinkled merrily behind you before you could answer and Ezra stepped out. He shut the door behind him and came down the few stairs to stand beside you. "What's this about a husband and goats?"

"Are you this woman's husband?"

"Now, I wouldn't exactly call myself her husband," Ezra chuckled, shouldering his backpack. He cleared his throat and looked at the woman. "What did you need?"

"You're the one with them goats on the edge of town?"

"I am indeed the man with the goats. How can I be of service?"

"Need them for a few days to clear a patch of land," she responded. 

Ezra nodded. "Absolutely. Swing by the farm sometime tomorrow and pick them up. You have Amir's old plot right?"

She nodded. "I do. I'm June, my husband is Rhys. I'll send him over tomorrow after lunch."

"Perfect," he said with a smile. "I look forward to it. I'll let the girls know they'll be shipping off. Thank you, June." 

Ezra placed his hand on your back and led you down the street back the way you'd come earlier. He adjusted the backpack and then offered his arm to you once again. 

"The atmosphere seems like it'll be good for a takeoff in a few days," he said softly. "I've given it much thought, Princess. It has kept me awake at night, long into the dawn's early hours. But I've made my decision."

"And what decision might that be?" you asked, biting back the tears that stung your eyes. 

"I," he said, his voice catching. "I would like to escort you home. Personally. I would feel much better seeing you safe in your fancy garden rather than sending you off into the darkness of space alone."

You looked over, waiting for him to say something else. He wanted to see you home instead of just waving you off from his front door? The thought comforted you. It felt like he truly cared for your emotions, though forcing him to travel back to Muir alone felt wrong.

"It's a long trip, Ezra," you said softly. "I couldn't ask for you to do that for us, not after all you've done already."

He shook his head. "For my own sake and peace of mind, Princess, I insist. Let me do you and your children this one final courtesy. Besides, Central isn't too far off. I could drop in on Cee, keep her company for a few days."

It seemed as though he'd made up his mind. Besides, the children might enjoy the trip home a little more if Ezra came along. 

In the back of your mind, you still heard their remark on how they almost had a father. It broke your heart to be unable to give them what they wanted. They'd never asked for anything before like they had done with this.

"Of course, Ezra," you said softly. "Thank you. Truly. Thank you for everything."

You sat in the garden, watching the children play. And every day that passed, you almost began to dread leaving. Ezra had welcomed you into his home the very first moment he saw the three of you in the cantina. He saved your life and poured his heart out to you. He had begun to feel like home.

You picked a rather vibrant pink day bloom as it bowed under its own weight beside you. It smelled absolutely lovely and you smiled as you ran your fingers over the petals. You opened the poetry book to the one Ezra had recited to you - Sonnet 116, written over seven hundred years ago by a man named Shakespeare. It seemed a fitting home for the flower, tucked safely between its pages.

"Princess," Ezra called as he approached you from behind. There was an urgency in his voice that you only remember hearing when you'd fallen into the river. Something was bothering him. He was covered in dirt and sweat from his morning chores, but you were sure he'd never looked better. "A word, if you would be so kind? I won't take up too much of your time, I know you have to start getting ready to depart soon."

"Is something the matter?" you asked softly. Ever since Ezra had poured his heart out to you, it almost felt like he had pulled away. It made you feel like you'd done some wrong. Maybe you had, by not expressing just how deeply you cared for him. You wanted to tell him at least a dozen times before lunch every day how much you loved him. You always hoped he knew that.

Ezra shook his head and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "No, Princess, everything is just fine. I'm just doing an awful lot of thinking, that's all. It both strains and enriches the mind."

"And what are you thinking so hard about?" you asked, setting the book in your lap. You turned, urging him to continue. 

Ezra took a deep breath and put his hand on his hip. He looked towards the sky as if he were gaining the strength for what he was about to tell you.

"Would you ever consider staying?" he asked, looking down at you. "Here. With me? You and your children?"

When you did not respond, he continued. 

"I must confess to you, Princess, that my intentions are purely selfish and I do not wish to see you go. I have gone against every instinct I have that is telling me to never let you leave. I know this planet is no place for you, but I cannot stand the thought of never seeing you again. I know that you must return home, and I wish to see to it personally that you are safe, even if it means breaking my own heart in the process."

You stared up at him, mouth agape in shock. Ezra had essentially confessed his love for you in the most beautiful way possible. You quickly scrambled to your feet, wanting nothing more than to pull him close and never let go. But you knew that you couldn't. You needed to go home, if for nothing else than to fulfill the duties bestowed upon you before you were even born.

"Oh, Ezra," you whispered, your voice thick with tears. "I want to. It would make me so happy, but I just-- I can't do it. My mother, my grandmother. They would be so upset if I never came home."

He cupped your cheek in his hand and smiled sadly. He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone and pressed his forehead against yours.

"This really is no place for your family anyway," he said softly. "And you deserve better than an old prospector like myself. Someday, I think, somewhere in time, we will meet again. Come on, I'll clean myself up and load your things into the ship. Gather your flock, Princess. One last time."

You started to protest but he shook his head. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and smiled. "It'll be alright. Don't worry. Better to do this now than keep prolonging our goodbyes."

A few hours later, you were strapping the children into flight seats on the modified pod that Charlie had built. It seemed surreal. When you first left home, you were frantically buckling their seat belts, looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to come through the door and kill you. This time though, instead of looking scared, your children looked sad.

You didn't want to show the children you were sad too. It didn't feel right, leaving the farm. But you knew what you had to do. You had to go back to your mother and grandmother. 

"Mama?" Marie mumbled sadly. "Are we going home for real?" She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and held tightly to her seat belt. When you nodded, she began to cry softly. 

"Can we come back someday?" Henry asked. 

"Can we, mama?" Aiden chirped. "Please?"

"I'm sure we will," you soothed, pressing kisses to each of their foreheads.

You made sure everything was secure in the bins overhead and underfoot before you double checked the flight book. Ezra had already assured you many times he'd be there to ensure a safe flight and landing, but you couldn't shake the nervous feeling in your belly that something was going to go wrong.

Ezra climbed aboard just as you were securing the final bin below your seat, calling his greetings to Juanita and Marta. They had promised to watch the animals while Ezra was away and he couldn't pass up the offer. 

"Are you ready?" he asked, holding his hand out to you. He helped you to your seat and smiled sadly. "I'll make sure you are safe, Princess, don't worry."

You nodded and strapped yourself in as Ezra slid into the pilot's chair. He glanced around at the children and then at you before flipping the switches to power the ship on. 

You reached over to hold Marie's hand as the ship rumbled to life. She hugged her stuffed dog to her chest and closed her eyes. A little whine squeaked out when you felt the ship lift off the ground and you squeezed her hand to comfort her.

Aiden and Henry held each other's hands and Aiden reached for your free hand. They all seemed so small strapped into the flight seats. So small, yet they'd grown so much since you had arrived on Muir. You wondered what your grandmother and mother would say about them. And about how you changed as well. 

You certainly had more muscle than when you first showed up, scared and stumbling into the Libertalia. You had helped out on the little farm, lifting and raking where Ezra needed assistance. The weight you still carried from having your children still sat at your hips, though your dresses were now looser and more ill-fitting. Perhaps the most notable change, to yourself anyway, was your smile. You smiled far more often than you used to. It felt good. And it was all thanks to Ezra.

You glanced over at him as he piloted the ship out into the vast emptiness of space. He looked back at you in the little mirror that had been taped to the comm piece and smiled sadly. 

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were apprehensive about going back to the palace. Something didn't feel right about the situation with Edgar and you hoped to talk to your mother immediately to alert her to what had happened. With any luck, you would be able to find a guard to fetch them as soon as you arrived.

Nearly a full cycle later, you woke from a twilight sleep as the ship rumbled and shook violently. The boys were already awake and watching Ezra with rapt attention. Marie was the only one still asleep now, her little head tucked against her chest, stuffed dog held loosely in one hand.

"Hang on, boys," Ezra urged as he flipped a few switches. The shaking stopped, but the rumbling was still enough to cause one of the overhead bins to bang open and send the contents tumbling. 

You let out a cry and braced yourself against the seat beside you as the whole ship lurched forward. Marie woke with a terrified wail, her head whipping around with the movement of the ship. 

"That was the reentry!" Ezra called back over his shoulder. "Just gotta set her down easy. Just a little more."

The entire ship bounced several times as it landed hard. It rolled over twice and finally came to rest with a deafening groan, leaving you all angled uncomfortably in your seats. The floor was slanted just enough that it would make it difficult to get out of your seats. 

Ezra unbuckled himself and slid out of the chair onto the floor. He turned to face you with a small smile. "Home at last."

You looked away, not wanting to look him in the eye. It would be too painful to say goodbye and you just wish he would leave you to find your own way back.

Ezra did his best to corral your children out of the tiny pod before he ducked back in to gather your few belongings. He had made sure you were safely out before he climbed down and jumped to the grass below.

"What do we say, children?" you asked, combing your fingers through Henry's shaggy locks. 

"Thank you, Mr. Ezra," they mumbled sadly, looking down at the ground. Aiden wiped his nose on the back of his hand and then stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Now cheer up," Ezra hummed as he took out a map. "I'm sure you'll have a big celebration for your return. You'll have the best meal you've had in months."

"Mama, do you think they'll know how to make those yummy soups we made a while ago?" Henry asked you.

"I'm sure they will, my darling," you replied with a smile. "Come along. Take your sister's hand."

Ezra hummed a short tune as he guided you all through the field, leaving the destroyed pod behind. He slung your bag over his shoulder and glanced back down at the map.

"How long do we still have to walk?" Aiden asked as he jogged ahead to keep up with Ezra. 

You sighed softly and looked around as Ezra explained to your son how to read the map. The planet had changed with the seasons since you'd been gone. It was almost springtime now. The last of the snow had finally melted away and new flowers were starting under the brown grasses at your feet. The air was still crisp but growing warmer, and for now, it still nipped at your cheeks and nose as you made your way home.

The walk to town was quiet, save for your children playing and running circles around you and Ezra. The two of you spoke quietly to one another, saying only your thanks and goodbyes. You knew how much he cared for you, and he knew how much you cared for him. You would never forget him, and it saddened you to leave him like this. Perhaps in another life, you could be with him.

It was dark by the time you reached the outskirts of town, and the moon was high in the clear, cloudless sky. The children, you found, were lagging behind and stumbling over their own feet as they grew more and more tired. 

Ezra bent to pick Marie up and she almost immediately fell asleep in his arms. He smiled fondly at her and then looked at you.

"Princess, if I may be so bold, I think it best if we hunker down for the night and continue on our journey tomorrow. It won't be too much further. I think some rest would do us good."

You looked towards the bright lights of the city center and sighed softly. It was indeed late and you supposed one more night couldn't hurt.

"Alright," you said softly. "Children, what do you think?"

The boys nodded and rubbed their eyes sleepily. It seemed as though they were the only thing keeping each other upright. 

"There's a little inn listed here on the map," Ezra said, nodding at a brightly lit two story building a few hundred feet from where you stood. "Seems as good a place to stay than any."

You smiled and nodded. One more night to spend with Ezra. It was as though Kevva was indeed looking out for you and hearing your prayers. "This will be perfect."

Ezra smiled and led the way down the path towards the little inn. He passed over Marie to your arms and set your backpack down. "I'll be right back," he said as he opened the door to the main office of the inn. He returned several minutes later with two sets of room tags and nodded to the top floor.

You set Marie down and picked up the backpack as Ezra herded the children up the stairs. You followed them and wondered how the children would get along after he left you. They would ask for him and cry when he didn't come, this much you knew. Could you disappoint them like that?

"A suite for the little flock," Ezra hummed as he unlocked the door. The children, now slightly more awake, rushed in, pushing and shoving one another to try and be first. There were two single beds and a fold out cot against the wall. Perfect for three adventurous children.

"Oh, Ez," you chuckled as the boys launched themselves onto the beds, whooping and cheering loudly. "Boys, boys! You must be quiet, other people are trying to sleep. Now, Aiden or Henry, one of you needs to let your sister have one of the beds."

"I will, mama," Henry offered quickly. "If I'm gonna be an explorer some day, I'll need to practice sleeping on a bedroll!"

You smiled and nodded. "Very good, my darling. Now say goodnight to Mr. Ezra."

One by one the children said their goodnights to him before they turned towards their beds.

"We're right next door whenever you're finished here, Princess," Ezra murmured. His touch on your back lingered long after he pulled away.

You quickly got the children tucked into their beds, explaining they were to be on their best behavior. They were not to open the door for anyone and that you were next door if they needed you. You pressed kisses to each of their cheeks before you turned the light off. 

Just before you shut the light off, you heard Aiden ask, "Mama, do you think Mr. Ezra will want to stay with us now?"

"I don't know, my love," you replied softly. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Ezra was already on the bed when you entered your room and you were shocked to only find one large bed in your room. You would have thought Ezra would have gotten another room like the one for the children.

"This was all that was left, Princess," he hummed as if he could read your mind. "Figured the children wouldn't mind those little beds as much as we would. Besides, I thought you deserved a nice big bed to sleep in tonight. There's a little cot for me there, don't worry."

You bit your lip and looked at him, spread out and relaxed on the bed. He had kicked his boots off and the deep green of his sweater had ridden up his torso slightly to reveal a strip of tan skin.

"I think I'm going to wash up," you said quickly as you rushed towards the restroom. You kept your eyes down to avoid looking at him. He didn't need to see your blush. Ezra watched you carefully, his dark eyes never leaving you, even when you turned to shut the door.

After you washed up, you realized the backpack was still out by the door in the bedroom. There was no way to get it without Ezra seeing you. One threadbare towel the inn provided was definitely not enough.

"Ez?" you called softly when you cracked open the door. "Can you get my robe? Please?"

You heard the springs creak on the bed and Ezra appeared in front of the washroom door. He had removed his sweater at some point while you washed up and he handed it to you. His eyes never left yours as you gratefully accepted the sweater.

"Thank you," you murmured as you slipped it on over your head. You felt your cheeks heat up when Ezra did not look away.

You opened up the washroom door fully to reveal him standing before you, looking at you with a sort of reverence you had only read about. 

"I have," he said breathlessly. "In my more desperate hours, thought about this very moment. I admit that I have pictured you in a hundred different instances, but none of them compare to how you glow in this light. Like a star. My starshine."

You blushed and turned your head slightly. Your cheeks felt hot and his gaze ignited something within you that you thought had been buried long ago. A fire, burning through the night.

"Will you come to bed?" Ezra whispered as you approached him. He gently placed his hand on your waist and pulled you close.

You brushed your lips against his and nodded as you curled your fingers over his cheeks. "Yes," you breathed.

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

TAGLIST:

@the-feckless-wonder @gallowsjoker @phoenixhalliwell  @waatermelon-sugaar @huliabitch @miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @auandromedus

[the-marvel-imagines-blog]

Madness | Chpt. 15

Chapter Title: “Still”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Word Count: 5,907

Warnings: blood, angst

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

Summary: Ezra takes advantage of Loki’s emotions and finds a way into his unguarded mind.

A/N: I’m so excited to share this chapter because I feel like this is where things finally start to pick up in Loki and Eva’s section of the fic. As I’ve stated previously, I’ve taken creative liberties with these characters, and I hope I do them justice. Thank you to each one of you who continues to interact with this fic, and I want to give an extra special thanks to those of you who have reached out with theories, ideas, compliments, or even questions. It means the world to me that anyone reads this because this fic means so much to me. Once again, thank you all so, so, so much, and I hope you enjoy this installment <3

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu @mynameisyara @j-j-ehlby-writes @jillilama-blog (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

*Loki’s POV*

Loki-my love, my light, my life,

I’m writing this letter to you to tell you that I’ve left for Midgard. I’m not entirely sure if or when I’ll be returning, but there is an issue that calls for my attention. I can’t lie to you. I can’t tell you that I want to come back to Asgard once I leave. There’s nothing left for me here without you. Odin’s decisions have left me powerless in both the situation with you and decisions that are being made out here. You made your choice, Loki, and you didn’t choose me. I chose, you though, and I will continue to choose you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I never will. I’ll love you until every star burns out and swallows the universe into the void. Even then, I’m sure I’ll continue loving you-I’m sure I’d find a way. I have nothing left here, Loki, no one left who needs me. I’ve never belonged in Asgard; we both knew that, so I can’t find a logical reason to want to return to a place that has never wanted me.

You’ve made it clear that you’d prefer to live your life without me, that you’d rather die than spend another moment in my presence, and I’m prepared to give that to you. I’m prepared to give you the peace and solitude that you wish for, but I want you to remember that if you let me, I will come running back to you in a heartbeat. That’s the thing about our love-I thought it would last for both of us. I thought our love would withstand the test of time, but I’ve been loving a memory for so long. I’ve lost almost all hope that the man I loved is still somewhere inside you. Maybe Thanos did burn him out. Maybe Thanos killed him. Maybe he truly did steal every piece of the man you once were, leaving me with nothing. Those thoughts, the knowledge of what he did to you-to the man I loved-is what will help me find pleasure in killing him. Death-no matter how gruesome or painful-would be far more merciful than the pain I feel when I live my life without you by my side. Perhaps that’s what I’m waiting for. I cannot die in peace until I find him and rip him apart.

My father will find the note I left for him soon enough, and if I die, or if I decide to stay on Midgard, know that he will continue to fight for you the way I always have. Aaldir has never lost sight of you, just as I haven’t. I’ll always keep an eye on you, Loki, and remember that you will always be loved. As long as I’m alive, there will always be someone on your side. I’ve believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself. I’ve loved you, even when you didn’t love yourself. I’ve fought for you, even when you gave up. While my mind is telling me that the man I love is long gone, my heart is holding out hope that he’s still in there somewhere, that all we’ve been through wasn’t wasted time. That’s the one thing that has kept me from giving up. You’re my everything, Loki. I love you.

Love always,

Eva

My eyes watered as I stared down at the note. Sorrow struck me, but I was also burdened with a fear that was unparalleled. I hated the thought of her knowing about Thanos, of her thirst for revenge. I hated that she knew about him, that she was prepared to find him and kill him for what he did. I knew how powerful he was, and he was one of the main reasons why I continued to push her away. I wanted to hold her, to love her once more. I never stopped loving her, and Thanos used that against me. He saw that she was my weakness, then, he exploited it. I couldn’t tell her that the reason why I was so afraid to be with her was because of Thanos because that would only drive her to find him even more.

The memory was still so vivid, as if it were happening in that very moment. Thanos wanted me to bring Eva to him, telling me that they could do great things together, that they could bring about the dawn of a new universe. I never understood why he wanted Eva, though. Her gifts were undeniable, and I could sense her power; however, she showed no signs of being a goddess. Still, Thanos wanted her, and if he couldn’t have her, no one could. I knew that my failure to deliver her to him had the potential of being detrimental to all of us, since he didn’t settle. He would search for her, and when he found her, he would take her. Perhaps, it was part of the reason why he ruined me in the first place. He wanted to give Eva a reason to seek him out. Either way, I couldn’t risk her safety. No matter how badly I wanted to pick up where we left off, to apologize for it all, to love her enough to make up for all the time we lost, I couldn’t. I couldn’t put her in danger, so I had to push her away, make her wish she never loved me in the first place. It was a fate worse than death.

“She chose Midgard over you,” that gruff voice sounded from the cell across from mine. Ezra.

I glared at him, knowing that he was merely trying to evoke an emotion. He looked so familiar. Those eyes-I had seen them before. They were as green, like the color of spring. They were familiar, but they were also so cold, “the further away from me, the safer she is,” I hissed, turning away from him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my anger.

“Thanos could never do to her what Cul will do to her once he has his hands on her,” he insisted, as if he read my mind, as if he could see how much I feared the Mad Titan. He couldn’t possibly know that. I didn’t even know who Cul was in the first place, so I tried to imagine that he had just gone mad. Perhaps he was one of the rambling lunatics that Odin often abandoned in the dungeons. Ezra continued, though, “just imagine what Thanos would do but a thousand times worse. Imagine the hell my father will rain down upon her. Imagine it,” he hissed before the world began to blur.

In the blink of an eye, everything around me changed. I was still in my cell, but the dungeon was empty, and my cell was open. What was happening? My eyes flickered around at the rubble where many of the cells used to be. Blood-dried and fresh-painted the walls and floors-a harsh contrast to what the dungeons had once been. While it was never a beautiful place to be, the first level was never particularly unkempt. It was what one would assume the dungeons of Asgard would look like-still elegant, while also being dreary enough to drive one mad. The destruction surrounding me was something I was used to, but it hadn’t taken over my home before. All I could think of was the one person I needed to protect. Eva.

While the dungeon was empty, and all the cells were completely vacant, I still heard Ezra’s voice, “I would suggest you run,” he whispered, sadistically. I could hear the amusement in his voice, as if he found joy in my distress. I knew that he was in my head, that he was toying with me. This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be my home. However, it was so immersive. I could smell the fresh blood; the metallic scent filled the dungeons. I could feel the stillness in the air. I could hear the silence, the nothingness. Then, I could hear her scream. It was just as clear as her voice when she sang in the forest, but it elicited a more primal emotion. As soon as her scream echoed through the walls of the palace, reaching me in the dungeons, I took off.

My legs pushed my body as hard as they could. I stumbled up the stairs, catching myself from falling, as I knew it would take up precious time I had to get to her. No matter how fast I ran, though, I felt like I wasn’t gaining on her. Her screams of agony still felt miles away, and the palace felt larger than ever. I had walked these halls thousands of times, and the never felt so long in all my life. The last time I had walked them felt like it was short-lived. I knew it would be the last few moments I would get to spend with her. She had trailed behind the guards as I was brought before my father, and she followed them when they brought me back down to “live out the rest of my days” in the dungeons amongst the filth. She didn’t stay long enough to watch them toss me into my cell, and I was glad for that. She didn’t need to see me the way I was. She didn’t deserve any of what I put her through, what my presence put her through.

Another scream forced me to push myself even faster, and my mind wandered once more. Where was this endurance when Eva, Thor, and I were still young? When we would play within the walls of the castle and break Odin’s expensive collections? Mother would always find us before Odin caught onto what had happened, and she would send us out into the garden to play before convincing the Allfather that it was her clumsiness-which she had none of-that led to his possessions being broken. Frigga, for a short time, was the light of my life. She was the person who believed in me, who loved me with all my flaws, who comforted me in every way. Then, the universe decided that I was worthy of something. Thor was worthy of his powers, but I was worthy of Eva. I never needed a throne, a hammer, a statue. All I ever needed was Eva, my light, my love, my life, my princess.

“She’s dying, Loki. If you don’t get to her before my father does, you’re going to lose what you love most,” Ezra growled, his voice causing the world around me to quake. If my body had the ability to move any faster, it did. I barreled through the doors of the palace only to see the horror before me. Asgard was on fire. The city before me was turned to ash, and what had been left standing was charred and ruined. I gazed over at the forest-our home-to see that the trees Eva once sang to were ablaze, lighting up the night around them. It was one of the most terrifying sights of my life. Eva and I lived in that forest, fell in love amongst the trees, and I had even planned to ask her to marry me beneath the leaves of our tree-the tree of life that was watered with Death’s tears. It was gone. All of it. Gone.

I nearly fell down the stairs upon descending them. I used her screams to guide me through the streets, and I used the dim light from the burning coal or the small fires that still lived along my path. My body became weaker the more desperate and pained her screams became. The closer I got, the louder they became, which was both frightening and relieving. I was growing closer, but she was also still in pain. The screams began to grow so loud, the ground beneath me quaked. I could feel the power from those desperate pleas for help-those panicked, anguished yells. The sound became so unbearable that I nearly stopped. It was like my body was trying to save me from witnessing what it was about to. It was like my body and mind knew what I was about to see, and if it slowed me just enough, I may have been smart enough to turn around, to walk away.

I wasn’t.

The moment I pushed through that fear, the threshold my mind tried to keep me from crossing, her screams stopped, and my heart fell through the very world beneath me. It was silent. The only sound came from the crackling fire and my heart that thudded in my own chest. In that moment, though, I wished for someone to extract the needless organ from my very body. If the silence meant what I knew it did, I had no use for my heart anymore. I had no use for anything anymore. Knowing that I had to find her no matter what, I continued to run through the streets, the light from the fire growing dimmer and dimmer. Soon, I was running through complete darkness. A sinister laugh rattled me to my very core, “you can’t save her from me,” I heard a deep voice, a voice far deeper than Ezra’s. It didn’t sound like him in the first place, but a part of me knew who it was.

Cul.

In the blink of an eye, my way was lit once more. The homes and shops that lined the streets were set ablaze and gave me the ability to see what I never wanted to see. I had seen her close to death on Midgard, but it was nothing like this. She laid completely lifeless on the street in front of me. Blood stained her pale white skin where it had once been kissed by the sun, and it matted down her wild, dark hair. There she was, the woman I loved, dead right in front of my very eyes. My hand flew up to cover my mouth at the mere sight of her. Blood pooled up on the cobblestone beneath her, and images of our life together flashed before my eyes. I suddenly remembered everything. I remembered every argument, every moment of peace, every ounce of sorrow, every moment of relief. I experienced my life with her. Now, I was without her.

A soft whimper escaped my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t do this without her. I couldn’t live my life without her. We promised that, should we meet Death, we would do so together. This was never the plan. It felt like every ounce of me was pulled out the moment I realized that there was no sign of life from her. There was a void in me that sprung to life and sucked away all the happiness I had ever felt. I still experienced some happiness in the dungeons, like when she would visit or when I would hear her sing in the forest. I still had small moments of happiness, but a life without her was no life at all. My heart felt like it had been torn out of my chest when it sunk in that this was the end. She was the one person who loved me more than I ever deserved, more than I could ever love myself. Now, she was just gone, and the last words I spoke to her were evil, hurtful...angry. I hurt the one thing in my life that I wanted to protect more than anything else. I tried to hate the one woman I loved more than anything else. I’d never have the chance to take it back, to tell her that this was all a mistake, that I was sorry for every ounce of pain I put her through, that I never stopped loving her. Even after Thanos took everything from me, he couldn’t pull away the love that I had for her.

I scrambled over to her, falling to my knees at her side. In the process, my clothes and hands became covered in her blood, “oh...oh no,” I stammered, pulling her body into my arms. I brushed the blood-soaked hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as I always had, “Eva?” I pressed, trying to get her to open her eyes, to see me. Maybe she would be okay. Maybe she would pull through just like before. When her body remained limp in my arms, I began to panic. The world felt like it was caving in on me, and my heartbeat was suddenly louder than ever before, “Eva?” I shouted, tears beginning to stream wildly down my cheeks. I shook her body as the sobs wracked through me, causing me to tremble. I was terrified in a way I had never been before.

This terror didn’t stem from the fear of being alone because I was used to being alone in the dungeons. It didn’t stem from the fear of being lost because I was lost for some time when I was with Thanos. It didn’t stem from the fear of being hated because I was despised by many as a child. It didn’t stem from the fear of being used because Thanos used me as a pawn in his game on Midgard. It didn’t stem from the fear of being vulnerable because I had been vulnerable with her all my life. No, this was a terror that was rooted in my inability to let go of the one good thing I had, the one miracle in my life: Eva. She was the light in my darkness, the essence of life on the battlefield of my existence, the calm in my chaos. She was everything I ever wanted, ever needed, ever dreamed of. She was the very air I breathed, and now, I was suffocating.

“You paved the way for this to happen. I hope you realize that,” Ezra’s voice cut through my sobs.

I tried to ignore the pain that his words brought because there was no greater pain than holding the last piece of your heart as they died, “Eva, wake up. Please, just wake up,” I begged her, burying my face into her hair as I cried, “don’t do this. Don’t go!”

“You left her alone in an unforgiving world. For what?” Ezra asked, causing my heart to sink. What if he was right? What if this was my fault? I shrunk away from his words, caving in on myself. I held onto her body as tightly as I could without breaking her, and I shielded her from anymore of the harm that he could place upon her, “why? Because you were afraid of Thanos? You should be afraid of my father and I! You should be afraid of what we can take from her, what we can do to her, what we can turn her into!” he shouted, an unforgiving voice in the darkness that felt as if it was swallowing me whole.

I pushed his words aside once more, laying her body down onto the cobblestone ground before curling up next to her. I cried into her hair, every sob tearing through my body, “don’t leave me like this. You promised!” I reminded her of the promise we made to each other. I had broken the promise, and it tore me to pieces when I thought of the pain it must’ve caused her. She always upheld her promise to me, though. She was the first to arrive on Midgard once she heard about my presence there. She was the first to confront me. She was the first to beg me to come home. She was the one who risked her life, who nearly died by my hand, to see if there was a way to save me. She was the one who fought for me. She would move galaxies for me, but I failed her. This was a debt that needed to be paid. I had taken so much from her; now, I was being taken from. I broke her heart time and time again-when I ended our relationship that day in the garden, when I turned against Odin, when I fell from the bridge, when I resurfaced on Midgard, when I delivered hundreds of innocent lives to Death, when I fought her, when I treated her like nothing more than the dirt beneath my feet, when I told her I didn’t love her anymore. Now, she was destroying my heart, taking every ounce of purpose I had ever felt.

My bottom lip quivered as I gazed over at her calm, peaceful face. She wasn’t in pain. It was like she was sleeping. She looked like she did when I would wake up before her. I’d gaze over to see a goddess in my bed next to me. The rising sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and it cascaded across her slender frame, accentuating the dip in her waist, the curve in her hips, her strong shoulders. I would take the time in the morning to gaze upon the love of my life, the woman who gave me reason, who filled my life with wonder and love. I would envision our future wedding and how I would ask father for permission to marry her. None of the anger I felt mattered anymore. All that mattered was her.

As I continued to gaze at her peaceful face, every ounce of guilt crept up to greet me. I should’ve been there. It should’ve been me. My bottom lip quivered as I grasped her cold hand in my own. It was something we did out of habit when we laid in the grass and stared up at the sky. She would always give my hand a gentle squeeze before she began speaking, and throughout whatever speech she gave me, she would rub my knuckles with her thumb. This time, it was my turn. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and, with a shaking voice and tears streaming down my face, I recited the poem she had written for me, “and if death should try to part me from you, she will have no heart or love to claim, for my heart is forever in your hands, my life will never be the same. And if death should try to part you from me,” my voice cracked as I held back a sob. I took a moment to collect myself before moving on, “my Love, I would take your place, for death knows not of the hole you would leave. I’d accept her cold embrace. But darling, fear not, for I know not how. I know now when or why. All I know is we’ll meet her together, our journey won’t end with goodbye.”

I heard Ezra’s chuckle in the distance, “what a sweet sentiment,” he remarked in a condescending tone, “it’s a shame you can only offer it to her corpse, and do you know whose fault that is?” he asked, urging me to answer through my increasing emotions, “you promised to protect her! You promised to keep her safe all those years ago. Look how much good your promise did!”

I cracked. He won. I turned my gaze to the neverending sky, “you’re right, okay? What do you want from me? What do you want me to say?” I shouted, trying desperately to wipe the tears from my cheeks, but it was no use. The continued to flood my face regardless of what I did to stop them, “I know! I know I should’ve been there for her, that I should’ve taken care of her and protected her like I said I would. I failed her. What more do you want?” I screamed into the void, waiting for a reply back. I received nothing. I turned my attention back to her, caressing her face with the tips of my fingers. It felt like I was dying, like my soul was being ripped from me, but the universe was too cruel to allow me the peace that death would bring. I frowned, pressing my forehead against hers, “I’m so sorry, Eva! I’m so sorry for everything I’ve ever done that has caused you pain and suffering. I never should’ve left you in the first place. I should’ve stayed with you in the forest that day instead of going to talk with my father. We could have run away and gotten married on Midgard like you always wanted. We could’ve started a family and had beautiful children. They would have your eyes...and my hair. If we had a son first, his name would be Nova, and if we had a daughter, her name would be Aurora,” I whimpered, forcing a smile as I pressed firm kisses to her forehead and cheek.

I felt myself beginning to slip back into the darkness, the familiar descent calling out to me. I just needed not to feel this pain. I needed it to stop, and if I just...let go, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I could be without this pain, this endless suffering. The darkness offered me solace, and I needed that now more than ever before. My chest felt like it was caving in, like I was slipping out of sanity. I felt like a stranger in my own body. The moment I closed my eyes and started to drift away from myself, I heard that voice, the voice I heard every morning and every night. It was soft but clear, “Loki, breathe,” she instructed as calmly as possible.

My eyes flew open and flickered around the darkness to see that the buildings had stopped burning. All that was left was the glowing coals. Her body was no longer next to me, and the pool of blood she had been lying in was gone as well. My heart thudded in my chest as I scrambled up to my feet. My chest tightened once more, and I felt as if I was suffocating, as if all the air had been knocked from my lungs. I spun around, looking for the source of that voice. I needed to see her, to know she was okay. When I couldn’t see her, I balled my hands up into fists and let out a roar of pure rage, “KILL ME!” I shouted into the void, falling into a pit of despair. I just wanted it to end. The pain was unbearable, and the moment I received an ounce of peace, it was snattched away. I needed to see her. I needed to know that my love was still alive, that I would still have the chance to make amends. I needed to know that her light wasn’t extinguished.

Suddenly, there was a faint light from behind me. I whipped my body around, and that was when I saw her. That was the moment my soul was returned to me. She stood-more beautiful than ever-surrounded by a faint glow. There was no blood, no screaming, no chaos, no stillness. She was alive. I closed all the space between us in the blink of an eye before falling into her warm embrace. I felt her touch and realized-as soon as I felt her-that this was real. She was in my head. She felt my distress and found my mind just as she had done so many times before. Now, she was across the universe, but she still managed to find me, to comfort me when I needed her most.

As she held me, the world started to fall back together. I held her like she was my only source of life, like she was the very breath I breathed. I held her the way I used to...before I tore our love apart. I held her as tightly as I could without crushing her slender body in my arms, “I thought you were dead,” I cried, unable to hold back the tears of pure joy and relief. Only moments prior, it felt like my world was falling apart, like it was being sucked into a vacuum, and I would go with it. Then, she appeared.

“Would that have been so terrible for you? I’d never pester you again,” she joked as I felt the radiant smile tugging at her lips.

I nodded my head, “it would be the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” I answered, burying my face into her hair as I broke down, “I thought I could take on the world without you, but I’ve never been more wrong of anything in my life. I need you, Eva, no matter how badly I want to deny it,” I confessed, clutching onto her, never wanting to let her go again, “I can’t lose you,” I sobbed, falling to my knees and bringing her with me to the hard cobblestone beneath us.

Still, she continued to hold me, intertwining our bodies so that we didn’t know where one person started and the other began. She stroked a hand through my hair, “I’ve never left you, Loki...and I won’t start now,” she whispered the same words she spoke to me when she was dying on Midgard, “I told you in the beginning that nothing...not even death itself could part me from you. I’m not going anywhere,” she reminded me, cradling my head against her shoulder. She soothed me as I cried, just as she always had, and when I began to collect myself, she pulled away just enough to gather my face in her hands. She positioned my head to catch my gaze, “just breathe, Loki,” she instructed, wiping the tears from my cheeks before caressing my face with her gentle fingers.

I leaned into her touch and closed my eyes, trying to focus every ounce of concentration I had left to the feel of her. I focused on the feel of the skin of her fingers against my cheeks. I focused on the warmth that she seemed to emanate, the peace I felt in her presence, and her light breathing. Eva was the one who always kept me grounded, so it was only fitting that I concentrate on her. Once I focused on her, everything else quieted, and we were the only two people in the universe. My breathing calmed, and when I opened my eyes, I noticed that the world around me was normal once more. The shops and homes were repaired, the quiet streets were lit by the sun above us, and every ounce of destruction was gone. This was her doing. Eva continued to stand before me, still and strong enough for the both of us. She must’ve known that my greatest fear was opening my eyes to be met with her absence. I needed time to adjust after what I had seen only moments before, and she would see me through.

“Ezra’s in your head, Loki. You need to push him out,” she stated, a frown tugging at her lips. We both knew what it would mean if I shut Ezra out. The act of closing the mind off to outsiders meant it would close it off to all outsiders, including the ones who meant no harm. It would mean that I would protect my mind against Eva as well, and she would be unable to appear to me for the time being. I shook my head, ready to argue with her. I would rather live in constant chaos with her than experience a moment of peace without her. Sensing my hesitance, she continued, “it’s a sacrifice you need to make, but I’ll come back.”

“Will you? Will you come back to Asgard?” I asked, hesitantly, recalling the contents of the letter she left for me, the one my mother delivered to my cell. For a moment, Eva became silent, searching my eyes for an answer she wouldn’t find. I knew that she wanted to ask why I would be so eager to have her return to Asgard when I was so brutal to her before. I knew she wondered what changed. In reality, none of my feelings for her changed, but my hesitance and fear to express them did. Instead of spoiling what I wanted to save for our in-person conversation, I cupped her face in my hands and pressed my lips to her forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. It became a habit after I murmured those three little words to her, and this was my way of reminding her that she still played the pivotal role in my life. When I finally pulled away, I continued to hold her head in my hands, watching as a stray tear streamed down her cheek. She smiled up at me, and it felt as if every planet in the universe suddenly aligned. What had I done to deserve this-to deserve a woman as miraculous as her?

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. We both knew that this wasn’t permanent. She couldn’t stay. We both knew that she had to return to her own mind, to Midgard, to the people she vowed to protect, to the people I vowed to protect at one point. Howard would have killed me if he knew what I put his son through, and I would’ve let him. Eva’s determined voice broke my train of thought, “I have a stronger connection to you, and you’ve managed to kick me out of your mind on several occasions, so you can do the same to him. All you need to do is focus, breathe, and take back your control,” she instructed me, wrapping her arms around my neck, “I believe in you. I always have, and I always will.”

“I need you to come home when you’re finished on Midgard,” I confessed, allowing her to see into my broken heart. I knew the abilities she had. I knew she would be able to sense my distress over her absence. Even if she wasn’t gifted in ways no one could explain, she could still sense that pain in me. I felt lost without her, and I knew she felt lost without me. We both had time to search for our purpose, and our search always led us back to each other. As soon as I spoke those words, her eyes flickered up to meet mine, and I saw myself in them for the first time in so long. She still loved me. She never stopped. Neither did I. That was my secret. That was what I couldn’t tell her, at least not like this, “you belong here...with me.”

“I promise you, Loki, that I will come back to Asgard once I’m finished here,” she promised, sounding more sure than just about anything else she ever told me. She furrowed her eyebrows, “why, though? Why now?” she asked, the question finally surfacing after she packed it away only a moment prior.

Upon hearing the question, I rested my forehead against hers and closed my eyes, basking in one last moment of peace with her. I clenched my jaw, and the atmosphere around me changed. When I opened my eyes, she was gone, and I was back in my cell amongst the filth. As a stray tear streamed down my cheek, I found the courage to answer her question, knowing that she wouldn’t hear it, “because I still love you.”

[parabellum-rpg-archive]

N A M E: Cassandra Costello A G E: Fifty-One O C C U P A T I O N: Capo of Escort Services, Owner of The Venetian L O Y A L T Y: Costello Crime Family

                                      SOME RISE BY SIN,                             AND SOME BY VIRTUE FALL.

Cassandra was the product of a short-lived affair. Her father was the CEO at a major state bank in New York; her mother was a twenty-two year old nobody. Cassandra came as a surprise to her father... and his wife of twelve years. After Cassandra’s birth mother unexpectedly passed away when she was only one, she was dropped off at her father’s doorstep. She wasn’t necessarily a welcomed surprise, but Jack felt an obligation to his daughter. Unable to have children, Cassandra’s step mother, Elaine, absolutely resented her growing up. Elaine couldn’t give Jack what he wanted, so he went out and sought it out from someone else. It turned Elaine into a bitter, hateful woman up until Jack finally left her. Once the wicked step mother was out of Cassandra’s life, she was much happier. 

Cassandra grew up being the single most important thing in her father’s life. After finding out of Cassandra’s existence, he didn’t want anymore children. There was no beating perfection. Cassandra was the center of his world. She vacationed wherever she wanted in the summers and spent thousands of dollars on designer outfits. She didn’t know what it was like to want for anything— until she met Marcel Costello, that is.

She’d never been hungrier for anything like she had been for that man. She’d met him on several occasions whenever he was engaged. He’d always ignored her advances, ever so faithful to Guinevere. Cassandra never understood it; she’d never been broken hearted. No one had been able to do that before. 

Cassandra was used to getting what she wanted. Marcel would be hers, no matter the cost.

Cassandra had been so sick with envy for such a long time, her father grew tired of hearing about it. No other suitors were worthy, because they weren’t Marcel. She had no idea what lengths her father would go to just to make her happy. Guinevere, pregnant with twins, was on her way to the hospital when the brakes in the SUV transporting her failed. The collision left Guinevere so unbelievably weak. The twins barely survived. 

The news of Guinevere’s death shook Cassandra to the core. Marcel was grief stricken, his entire world crumbling beneath him. All Cassandra wanted to do was run to his side and make it all go away. It didn’t take long for her to snake her way in to the Costello family. In just a few years, Marcel had fallen deeply in love with Cassandra. The children all saw her as a mother. She was no replacement for Guinevere; she was better.

Cassandra knew what her father had done. Having a woman killed was a dangerous secret to keep. And for a long time, she struggled with it. But, in the end, she didn’t feel any remorse. The family that she had always wanted was hers to keep, forever, and she’d be a fool to let them go.

Over the years, Cassandra grew in to her role as the family matriarch with ease. She was clever, maternal, and the voice in Marcel’s head. He had an adviser, but Cassandra always had a way of influencing his decisions. She dove headfirst in to the organization, proving to be an asset when it came to all things operations related. Not only that, but Cassandra underwent ‘mandatory’ Costello training. She knew how to properly defend herself, and while she’s never been fond of scuffles, she’ll be the first one to throw a hit when it comes to women getting a little too familiar with her husband. 

For the last twenty or so years, she’s kept her father’s secret buried deep, locked away in a vault to never resurface. The only thing that matters to Cassandra is her family. With her youngest son currently engaged to Paisely, Cassandra can’t help but worry. She’s thrown herself in to a lot of the planning because that’s just what mothers do, but she’d be lying if she said she was happy about the wedding itself. She’s fiercely protective of her own, and the last thing she wants is for any of her family to get hurt. 

                                    CONNECTIONS:

— Relationship Status: Married to Marcel Costello — Children: Leon Costello, Ezra Costello, Mia Costello, Sofia Costello, and Luca Costello — Other: Abel Costello (Nephew)

FC: Rachel Weisz 

The role of CASSANDRA COSTELLO is currently TAKEN.

[waywardnerd67]

Distant Memory

Summary: Dean is back in 2018 to help Sam and Cas kill Chronos once and for all. In their search for the god of time, Dean gets an unexpected visitor that flips his world upside down. When Chronos finds out about how special this person is to Dean he amps up the ante. Will Dean be able to save them in time or will everything become a distant memory for him? Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Patty Moore (OFC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 2832 Prompts: “I’m your daughter.” / “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” A/N: As I finished writing “I’ll Be Seeing You” I figured if I got a good response then I would write a sequel. So here we are seeing what happens when Dean comes back to 2018. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy! A/N 2: For @myinconnelly1 100 Follower Challenge. Prompts below are BOLD.

Check out the first part: I’ll Be Seeing You

When Dean opened his eyes, they were in the Bunker and Sam was pacing in the library. “Dean!” he called out rushing over pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hiya Sammy.” He said as his head was slightly spinning from traveling through time.

Sam and Castiel filled Dean in on what Chronos had been up too while he was stuck in the 1940’s. “So, Chronos is popping random people from all over time to other parts of time?” He confirmed as they both nodded at him. “Okay, well let’s track him down so we can kill him. Castiel have you found Fate to have a pointed conversation with her.”

“Yes, she is how I was able to go back in time to get you. She has seen the errors of her ways and will do anything we ask her too.” Dean gave Castiel a quick nod.

He looked down at his clothes, the ache in his heart burning hotter. “I’m going to change and then we can get to researching for Chronos.” Dean took off towards his room.

Being back in the Bunker and in his room, was surreal. Building a life with (Y/N) back in the 40’s was everything he wanted now in the present. After he kills Chronos, he would have Fate bring (Y/N) and Sammi to his time now. He would build a life with them again.

When he walked back to the library, there was a woman sitting with Sam and Castiel. She looked oddly familiar but he could not place where from. Castiel looked up at him with sadness in his blue eyes and that caused the woman and Sam to look at him as well.

“Dean, um this is Patty Moore.” Sam introduced as she got up hesitantly approaching him.

Looking into her eyes was like looking into his own unnerving him, “Nice to meet you, Patty.” He said.

“It’s nice to finally meet you as well. I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” She said shaking his hand.

Dean looked down at her curiously as she smiled and a small gasp escaped his lips, “No. Y-You can’t be.” He said stepping back from her.

She looked hurt for a split second and then her face went emotionless. “Yes Dean, I’m your daughter. Samantha Patricia Winchester born on December 27, 1946.”

He ran his hand through his hair while taking a deep breath sitting down. She sat next to him as Sam and Castiel joined them. “Oh my… she was telling the truth then.” Sam said as Dean nodded.

“When Chronos zapped me back to 1944, I started working with Eliot Ness and Ezra Moore to find a way back to now. Ezra’s niece, (Y/N) Moore, asked me to help her fix up her Hot Rod that she raced on Saturday nights. As we got to know one another, we fell in love. We got married, bought a home and then had Samantha. I figured I was never going to see Sam again so I wanted to name her after her Uncle.” He looked from Patty to Sam who were looking at each other.

“My mother told me that when I was six months old a man came to visit my father and then they both disappeared. My father left a note for her that I still have to this day at my own home. She never married again saying that my father was the love of her life and no other man would ever be able to replace that.” She explained as Dean felt tears rolling down his cheeks.

She placed her hand on top of his, “She lived a nice long life. My mother was well loved by me, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. My mother loved you very much, Dean.”

He rested his head on his arm as his body began to tremble from crying. He could not hold it back anymore just hearing that (Y/N) was no longer alive broken his heart in a million pieces. He felt Sam place a hand on his shoulder and then Patty was running her hand over his hair just like (Y/N) would.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but my mother said it was important that I found you on this date. That it was a matter of life or death.” Patty said as Dean lifted his head nodding.

He wiped his face with his hands and cleared his throat, “Okay. I’m okay. Why did (Y/N) want you to find me?” His voice was raspy and thick with unshed emotions.

“When I was fifteen, she had a man come visit her. He scared her and I will never forget how terrified she looked after speaking to him. She told me that on this date I was to find Dean Winchester in Lebanon, Kansas. I needed to stay by his side in order to save my life. That’s all she told me.” Dean looked to Patty who was struggling to hold back her own emotions.

Dean looked to Sam and Castiel, “It must have been Chronos. He must know about Patty and will use her to get to me. You two start researching to find him. I will go with Patty to her house to collect some of her things and then bring her back here.”

As they walked into the garage, Dean stopped to admire his pride and joy. "Oh Baby, how I missed you." He whispered running his fingers over the glossy finish of the '67 Chevy Impala.

"Mom always said you loved cars. Probably why I ended up marrying a mechanic." Patty chuckled as Dean opened the passenger door for her.

The four-hour drive to Patty's home in Kansas City was mostly silent except for the music playing on the radio. There were so many questions he wanted to ask but could not get his mouth to form the words. She directed him to a modest ranch home with only one car parked in the driveway.

Dean followed her inside, "I will be right back." She said leaving him in the living room.

There were pictures throughout the room and the hallway leading to her kitchen. Pictures of Patty with her children and grandchildren. His mind was blown at the thought that they were his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Then he saw a picture that took his breath away. Patty on her wedding day dressed all in white with her husband standing to her right and (Y/N) on her left. Dean was not expecting the overwhelming feeling of loss that was flooding his body.

"That is one of my favorite pictures of mom. She was always beautiful, but that day she was particularly so." Patty's voice startled him.

He turned around facing his daughter and tears started streaming down his cheeks. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I wanted to be. God, did I want to be there to see you grow up, graduate high school, college, get married and have kids. I wanted to be there for all of it. I hope you know that."

Patty sat down on her couch patting the seat next her for him to sit down. Dean ran his hands over his face as he sat down. She took one of his hands into hers squeezing it.

"I know you wanted to be there. It wasn't until I had my own kids that I understood why you left. Until then, I always resented you for leaving us. Mom would tell me repeatedly that you loved me more than anything in this world but I never believed her. All I could see was my father didn't want us and I hated you for that." She paused collecting her own thoughts and feelings.

He words ripped through him worse than any weapon could. Patty looked up at him with a smile and shining olive eyes trying to hold back her tears. "Once mom let me read your letter and explained everything that had happened, I began to understand a little more. Then I had my first child and realized I would do anything in this world to protect them. Which was exactly what you were doing by leaving."

She placed her hand over his cheek wiping away a few stray tears, "I forgive you for everything. I am so happy that I am able to meet you now and see what mom loved you so much. Don't blame yourself for anything that happened because mom and I had a wonderful life. I wouldn't change it for anything even to have you back in it because you can be a part of my life now."

Dean leaned over hugging her, "I would love that Patty." He pulled away from her as his hands covered hers. "I do have a question for you?" He asked nervously.

She nodded for him to continue, "Why do you go by Patty and not Samantha or Sammi?"

Patty chuckled smiling just like (Y/N) did, "I started going by Patty because that was the name mom chose for me. She told me how you picked Samantha and at the time I wanted nothing to do with you. I was an angry kid when it came to anything dealing with you. From the time I was ten years old I went by Patty. Only mom was allowed to call me Samantha because she refused to call me Patty. Mom also went back to her maiden name after you left and changed mine as well."

Dean snickered as they both stood up, "Looks like I passed down the Winchester attitude to you." They were walking out her door when a bright flash of red light took them by surprise.

Dean stood in front of Patty glaring at Chronos standing in front of him. "Dean, I'm so glad I found you. Oh, and look you're with your daughter. May I just say it's an honor to meet you."

"Stay the hell away from her." Dean seethed as Chronos took a few steps towards them.

"Is that any way to make introductions? No matter, Patty and I will get to know one another very well. See I was going to take out your brother or angel friend but seeing her with you just changed my plans for the better." Chronos smiled wickedly at them and in a flash of red was gone reappearing behind Patty.

Before Dean could react Chronos disappeared with Patty before his eyes. "PATTY!" He yelled out grasping at air.

He quickly pulled out his phone dialing Sam's number and getting into his car taking off. "Sam, Chronos has Patty. Do you have a location for him?" He asked frantically.

"It looks like he is in that old condemned house we stayed while in Canton the first time we dealt with him. Cas and I will meet you there. Don't worry Dean we'll get her back." Sam tried to sound reassuring but Dean's mind was already at worst case scenario.

He drove the ten hours to Canton straight through only stopping to refuel. He pulled up to the house not seeing Sam or Castiel. He knew he should wait for them, but there was no way he was going to allow Chronos to hurt Patty in any way. He would rather die than anything to happen to her.

After checking the perimeter of the house, he cautiously entered through the front door. As he stepped in the living room he saw Patty tied to a chair. He looked around as he walked towards her and pulled out his knife to cut the ropes around her.

He undid the gag around her mouth as she spoke in a frantic hushed tone, "He's still here, Dean. Just in the kitchen."

There was a flash of red and the sound of an object whirling through the air. Before he could turn around, Patty threw her whole weight against him knocking him out of the way and then there was a piercing scream.

Dean scrambled to get up as he watched the knife lodge itself into her chest, "NO!" He cried out rushing to her.

He applied pressure keeping the knife in place until he could get her to a hospital. Sam and Castiel came through the front door as Chronos was appearing from the kitchen. His laughter filling the room and fueling the burning rage coursing through Dean's veins.

"Come on Dean, I'm right here for you to kill." Chronos taunted him as Sam and Castiel stepped in front of him.

"We've got this, take care of Patty." Castiel said as they slowly approached the god of time.

Dean felt like time of moving in slow motion as he looked down at his daughter. Tears streaming down her cheeks but as she looked up at him she was smiling.

"Don't worry sweetie, I will get you to a hospital and they will patch you right up." Dean said trying to lift her up but she shook her head.

She placed her hand on his chest just over his heart, "There's not enough time. Just stay with me daddy. Please, just stay with me." She coughed blood slipping from the corners of her mouth.

Dean held on to her his anguish choking the words he desperately wanted to say from coming out. As if she knew what he was thinking she spoke her last words, "I love you too, daddy."

He watched the life slip from her eyes and he let out a primal scream that brewed deep within him. He screamed until his throat burned. He held her against his chest, "I love you so much sweetie." He whispered through the tears dropping down on top of her head.

He looked up to see Sam running in from the kitchen with Castiel right behind him. "Oh god..." Sam whispered as he knelt next to him.

"She gone Sammy. My little girl is gone." He cried.

Castiel laid his hand on her head to see if he could heal her but shook his head the guilt registering on his face. Dean kissed the top of her head asking, "Did you get him?" His jaw clenched thinking of the god who took his daughter away from him.

"Yes Dean. We killed Chronos once and for all." Castiel said.

Dean stood up the look of determination on his face, "Good. Now bring Fate here now." He demanded as Castiel looked to him confused.

"Dean, why do you want Fate here?" Sam asked as Castiel started shaking his head.

"No, Dean. She cannot send you back in time. I know you want to make things right for Patty and (Y/N), but you cannot. This is the way it was meant to play out." Dean stared into his friend's eyes and felt as if the invisible rope holding me back snapped in two.

Dean grabbed the angel by the collar of his trench coat pinning him against the nearest wall. "Don't you dare tell me this is how my daughter's life was meant to end! Now, you're going to get Fate and she is going to bring (Y/N) and Patty to our time so I can give them what I was supposed to back in 1947."

His jaw was aching from being clenched tightly. "Dean?" He heard a familiar voice behind him and when he turned to see who it was an audible gasp came from his lips.

There stood (Y/N) looking as she did the morning he had left with Castiel. Next to her was a petite woman with blonde hair and glasses. He let go of Castiel, walking up to (Y/N).

"Is it... is it really you?" He asked hesitantly reaching out to touch her cheek.

When he felt her soft skin against his rough hands he pulled her into his arms hugging her tightly. She began to softly cry into his chest. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I should have stayed with you and Patty." He whispered against her hair.

(Y/N) pulled back slightly shaking her head, "No Dean, this is where you belong. We were never meant to be with one another but we were and I wouldn't trade those years for anything. But, you need to stay here and I need to go back to my time. Just..." She let a shaky breath, "Just remember we will always be right here with you no matter what part of time you are in." She held her hand over his heart.

Dean leaned down kissing her deeply one last time before letting her go forever. Before Fate took (Y/N) back to 1947 Dean called out, "(Y/N) in a few years when our daughter tells you she wants to be called Patty please do so."

(Y/N) flashed him one of her breathtaking smiles, "No way. Her daddy named her Samantha for a reason and that is what I will call her. I love you, Dean."

Like that she was gone like a distant memory and Dean whispered, "I love you too."

That night in his room, Dean sat up drinking his sixth beer while listening to his and (Y/N)’s song. The lyrics drowning his heart is sorrow. 

I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day In everything that's light and gay I'll always think of you that way I'll find you in the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you

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[itsjustascarecrow]

i heard it was Lady Friday and that @starwarsladies put out a call for oc’s, so uh. here i am i guess?? w/ a little fic (just over 2.3k words) featuring one of my sw ladies. i shall preface this by saying i’ve not shared anything about any of my oc’s on this site before, so this is kind of a first for me, b/c i know how some people can be about 1) oc x canon, and 2) oc’s related to major characters, both of which this oc falls under.. but! this is not a shipfic, i promise! in fact, i’ll (try to) give a brief intro:

name: Jey-Min Kenobi age: about 23/24 (at the time of this fic; born 19 BBY) appearance: light-skinned, bluish-gray eyes, yellow-orange hair, 5′8″ (so save those last three things my face claim for her is Deborah Ann Woll) affiliation/occupation: the Rebellion/Resistance; a Jedi telekinesis Sage (her lightsaber is orange) other general things: friendly; kind of an oblivious idiot sometimes; can flirt like a champ w/o actually meaning to do so (she just thinks she’s being nice); panromantic/asexual af; hates being cold; loves cute things; was best friends w/ a jawa growing up--as she was raised by her uncle Obi-Wan on Tatooine; can speak a lot of different languages (tho not necessarily fluently) and can swear in even more; enjoys music and knows how to play the space-equivalent of a banjo; never met her parents as they were killed by Separatists when she was only a month old--and thus has underlying issues revolving around motherhood b/c of it; a great baker (tho not at the time of this fic; that comes later); considers Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, etc. to be family; is one version of my first ever star wars oc/concept for an oc and is friends/allies w/ another oc of mine who’s the other half of that original concept

but ye, in terms of plot, a quick note: this fic mentions some things that involve events that my friend @fettjango and i have come up with in our own sort of. au i guess you can call it; it also mentions a couple oc’s of theirs as well. long-story-short, their oc Fareema, who at one point worked for the Empire, has offered Leia and the Resistance information on any remaining Imperialists in the galaxy, such as where to find them, and Jey offered to accompany Ezra Bridger on said missions to take down said Imperialists. this fic takes place after the first of those missions. so w/o further adieu, here goes nothing??

Jey-Min Kenobi stood outside the gray stone dwelling that had served as her home for 19 years, the home her uncle, the great Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, had raised her in. But she was not thinking of the Jedi Knight he had revealed himself to be in his later years. She was thinking of the man named Ben, a simple, kind old man who spent his days caring for his late twin sister's daughter and their herd of bantha, and occasionally helping any other locals out of tricky situations should the need arise. She closed her eyes, picturing the door as she last saw it, when they first welcomed Luke Skywalker and a couple of rebel droids into their home, changing both his and her own lives forever. When she opened her eyes again, gazing upon the sight of a door nearly hidden entirely by the sand that had piled up over the past four years, she'd realized the tears had already begun to fall. She thought back to when she had asked her new friend, Ezra Bridger, to take her here and continued to question if this was a good idea or not. He had been fine with making this quick pit stop but had volunteered to stay behind with their ship. Jey thought to herself that he probably didn't care much for this planet's climate, as not many people did. And while that was one of the many things that made this place home, the memories this home held of times and people now long gone made it difficult for her to see it as anything other than a tomb. Not only was Obi-Wan dead, but so was Old Ben. And with him, Jamie Kenobi--a version of herself that had known nothing of Jedi and their lightsabers and their control over the Force. Of their involvement in the Clone Wars and connections to those who created the Empire, who had been in power since she was an infant. The lies told to keep her safe, the people she had never been told about and the legacy they had left behind--a legacy now carried on by a man her own age whom she had always known to be just like her: a simple child of a desert planet with nothing special about them. Jamie Kenobi had never left this home some five years ago. She had died in this very building and Jey-Min had left in her place. And now she was terrified of the ghost of herself she knew to still haunt this place. One last time she thought of going back to Ezra empty-handed before she raised her hands to clear away the sand and opened the door using the Force her uncle so truly valued. As she stepped over the threshold, the ghost of Jamie took over, and she saw the home she always knew. It wasn't the most elaborate or expensive home, but they never needed it to be. Adequately-sized rooms, square windows, round pillars, arched doorways, all made of the same grayish-white stone as the outside; cool the touch and always a welcome respite in the sometimes near-sweltering Tatooine heat. The way she saw it now, things were in their place as she had last saw them, in their proper places all nice and neat and clean. She and her uncle weren't necessarily the meticulous type, but they understood the value of a tidy home in a dust bowl like this. And what would seem to many as old relics or antiques strewn about the place in some sort of decorative manner were almost like treasures to them. Things collected of a time long passed that, perhaps when she was younger, she didn't quite fully appreciate. But as Jey-Min looked through Jamie's eyes, she began to wonder if she and her uncle were actually a part of that collection as well. She noticed the tears flowing more steadily now, though she did not know if they were Jey-Min's or Jamie's. At this point, she didn't even know what she was looking for. Whatever excuse she had told Ezra had since been forgotten; now she just wandered aimlessly from room to room. But the longer she stayed, the weaker Jamie's grip on her became, and she began to see things as Luke had last described them to her. He had come back to their home planet four years ago in search of something; she couldn't remember exactly what for. But one of the stops he made was back here to the old Kenobi family homestead, and it was here where he had ran into the Mandalorian bounty hunter Boba Fett. Luke had described their fight to her in cautious detail, knowing full well she wouldn't have appreciated him unintentionally trashing her childhood home like this. Nor was he prepared for the sudden appearance of sand people, who must've either wanted in on the action or perhaps an easy target for a scavenging run. Either way, as her feet kicked aside bits of rubble and scrap, and as her fingers traced the blaster holes in the walls, she had to fight the growing urge to turn and run. While Jamie's hold on Jey-Min's sight had been released, her presence within the home still remained. Jey-Min would turn at the sound of a young girl giggling and see an afterimage herself being lifted into the air by her uncle, and when she moved into another room, she would see herself again, this time playing with toys that now lay discarded or in pieces on the floor. Eventually it all became too much for her to bear; she raised a hand to cover her mouth and slumped against a wall, slowly sliding down to the floor as she began to openly sob. She wasn't sure how long she had sat there, but eventually she calmed down enough to realize she was in fact alone. No more mirages of small children and dead uncles, of a home still in a functional state. Just a lone Jedi amongst the sand and debris. Her tear-stained face turned slowly as she took everything in one last time, her chest rising then falling with a deep, heavy sigh. 'I shouldn't have come here,' she thought. 'There's nothing left here for me.' Jey-Min finally rose to her feet and made her way back out into the midday Tatooine heat, but as she turned to close the door for the final time, she saw Jamie standing just inside, watching with sad yet angry eyes as her future walk away. But together, the two versions of Obi-Wan's niece raised their hand and wafted it to the side, sealing the entrance for good. Jey half-ran, half-briskly walked back to the ship, eager to get off the planet, as she tried to wipe her face clean with her hands. She knew it was a mess and would certainly give away the emotional ordeal she just went through. And she felt she trusted Ezra (as much as one could after only knowing him for a few days so far), but she wasn't sure if she was ready to explain herself to him just yet. Pausing at the bottom of the loading ramp, she took one last moment to collect herself, but before she could make her way up, she heard the familiar beeping of R8-V2, the Imperial astromech on loan to them by the Chiss woman who started them on these missions to begin with. "Well," Jey sighed, "if everything was alright, I wouldn't look like this, now would I?" She slowly trudged her way up the ramp but still made a point to pat V2 on the head as they beeped a reply, which did make her chuckle. "Yes, I'm sure your 'weird blue mother's stealth tricks' helped out more often than not in these situations, but honestly I'm already such a mess, I'm not sure there's anything that could save me at this point. I'm just too far gone, I'm afraid." Ezra was slouched across the captain's seat when Jey stepped into the bridge. "Oh hey, you're back," he called over a shoulder. "Was starting to worry you'd gotten buried alive in a rogue sand dune or--" He stopped mid-sentence after doing a double-take when he caught sight of her face and scrambled to his feet. "Woah, are you okay? I-Is something wrong; did something happen out there?" The genuine concern in his voice nearly made Jey break down all over again, but she managed to hold most of it back this time. "I'm fine," she lied, raising a hand to stop his advance. "Or, at least I will be. It's just... too many memories.." She shook her head slightly, annoyed with herself as she felt a couple more tears escape. Quickly wiping them away, she tried to laugh it off. "I promise I'm not always like this." "Hey, it's alright," he chuckled a bit awkwardly. "I know it can be.. difficult coming home after a long time being away." "Yeah, it's.. it's cool; I'll be fine, I just.. let's just go; we should report back to Fareema." "Okay, if you're sure." He slid back down into his seat as his co-pilot just nodded, settling down into her own seat, and within moments they had left the surface of the planet, made it up into its atmosphere, and blasted off into hyperspace. They had sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence for a good while before Ezra felt a pair of eyes seemingly boring into him off to his right. He turned to catch Jey staring at him for what certainly wasn't the first time this mission. "Uh.. you're doing it again," he pointed out when she didn't turn away after being caught. A quiet "Hm?" was the only reply. "Staring at me." "Oh. Sorry." It was almost as if she had been broken out of a trance. "I'm just.. trying to remember your face. Sometimes memories are.. all I have left of some people." "Right... Are you sure you're okay?" Jey took a moment to think about how she wanted to answer, leaning an elbow on one of the arms of her chair and placing a hand on her cheek. "Not even Nara and Dolo were still around," she muttered almost half to herself. "Who?" "A couple of banthas that were part of a small herd my uncle adopted when I was little." She smiled when Ezra laughed in disbelief. "Oh yeah, we had a fair few; those two were the oldest. "There was this one time when I was still quite small and wasn't quite old enough to know not to play with large animals unsupervised, but anyway, that's exactly what I did. I just thought they looked nice and cuddly, like giant, woolly blankets, so one evening I thought to myself 'I'm gonna sleep outside with Dolo and Nara tonight' and I just.. snuggled right up in there with them. And at first, it was pretty great; real cozy, y'know? Until somehow I just sorta. Fell into them. Like I was just lost within the void that was their fur almost instantly. "I didn't panic though, like I had faith that I'd be fine. If anything, I thought it was pretty funny at the time. But then I heard my uncle calling out for me, wondering where I'd run off to. And instead of calling back out to him, I stayed right where I was, all nice and quiet-like. But clearly I wasn't quiet enough; I heard him getting closer to where the herd had settled down for the night, so when I was sure he was standing right next to us, I popped my little hand out and waved at him. And to this very day, I will never forget the sound he made." By this point, Ezra was nearly doubled over with laughter. "That's incredible, holy shit!" "Yeah, we kinda did that a lot to each other; we weren't the most responsible family, got away with a lot of shit. He'd even take me with him when he'd stop by the local cantinas to drink, and at the time I wasn't even in double digits yet age-wise. "Actually, y'know what's funny?" Ezra jumped slightly as Jey continued, and she realized she may've spoken a bit more aggressively than she had intended. "All those times my uncle would stop in to drink? He was a responsible drinker as far as I was aware; either that or he just had a much higher tolerance than most. But I asked him one time why he drank so often and he told me, 'You remember all those stories I told you about your uncle Ani? That's why.'--now it fucking makes sense!" "Uncle Ani; who's that? I didn't know Obi-Wan had a brother." "'Ani' was short for Anakin. As in Anakin Skywalker, his former apprentice. Darth fucking Vader was technically my 'uncle'." Jey took a moment to take in what she just admitted, placing her head into one of her hands. "Gods, I'm really glad I didn't know him growing up; it probably would've made me drink as much as my uncle did." "Yikes, yeah. I had the misfortune of running into him a couple of times, and those certainly weren't.. pleasant experiences..." Another short awkward silence followed, but this time it was V2 who decided to break it. They beeped out a story about a time when their "weird blue mother Fare" climbed up to the top of a stack of crates during a bit of training with her commanding officers when something on the ceiling had caught her attention. Of course V2's punchline to the story was to say she had been "on top of things". This spurred another round of laughter from the two humans, and they then proceeded to swap stories from their youth about momentary lapses of judgement and the like. This lasted all the way until they made it back to their home base, and by the end of their journey, they knew this would be the start of a very interesting partnership.

[wyofabdoms]

History

Chapter 2 - Marry Her

Characters: Ezra x OFC

Summary: After their escape from The Green, Ezra and Cee seek work elsewhere. One fateful job opportunity reunites Ezra with his childhood best friend and love of his life. But so much has changed for both of them over the years...yet some things haven't changed at all.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: childhood friendship, flashbacks

Word Count: 1733

Chapter Notes: This chapter is a flashback from Ezra's POV.

Unbeta'd

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance.

Be well!

Huge thank you to @gaiuswrites for encouraging me to actually start writing this.

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Ezra loved to run. He had loved to race up and down the halls of the space hubs as long as his 10-year-old brain could remember. His earliest memories were of stumble-running through the rocky shore of some sea planet whose name he couldn’t recall anymore. The feeling of his legs pumping and carrying his little body from one point to another was freeing; even as a small boy he understood what freedom felt like...and that it was important.

Now he can feel the long strands of weed grass whip past his body, tangling and snarling around his ankles, trying to slow him down, to hold him back. But he presses on, his excitement carrying him through the wide field spread before him. He reaches the edge and feels a new burst of energy as he clears the tall plants, as his destination coming into view a short distance in front of him now: home. He runs faster.

“Ezra!” His mother exclaims as he storms up the shabby porch steps and tromps through the door. “Is everything all right, darlin’? What’s got you so worked up?” The smell of his mother’s cooking surrounds him like a cozy blanket and his stomach gives an urgent grumble. He ignores it and runs to wrap his arms around his mother’s slim waist by way of greeting. “Where’ve you been? Were you helpin’ your father?”

“I was...” Ezra pants, releasing his mother’s waist and plopping down on a chair, swinging his little legs eagerly back and forth. A cup is placed in front of him and he eagerly gulps the liquid down, forgetting to stop for breath and pulling the cup from his lips with a smack and a loud gasp. “I was,” he repeats, “but then I went exploring.”

“Now don’t you go gettin’ into any mischief, Sweet Boy. This job is good for us, we can’t have you causin’ trouble or getting into things where you shouldn’t.” His mother’s tone was gentle, only lightly colored with a hint of warning.

“No! I was looking for toxic spiders in the root plants in the upper fields. I was workin’!” His bottom lip jutted out into a frown, offended that his mother just assumed he’d be causing trouble. She gave him a knowing smile, then circled behind him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“That’s my good boy. What a helper you are! Is your father headed home, do you know?”

“He was helpin’ recalibrate the equipment, last I saw.” His mother gave a nod and turned back to the stove, checking pots and pans and putting the finishing touches on the meal that awaited.

“Mama, guess what!” Ezra nearly wriggled himself out of his seat with the excitement he had been so carefully holding in.

“What?”

“I met the girl I’m going to marry today!”

His mother stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him, her eyebrows dancing high on her face.

Ezra dived into the story, his words tumbling from him. He described how he had been carefully turning over each leaf, how he had meticulously been checking each short plant for the noxious pest which he would then carefully peel from the fibrous plant and squish beneath his little boot heel. As he had been crawling along the end of a row close to the main house, he’d noticed a pair of small, buckled shoes approach and stop near him. He’d popped up in surprise, startled, nearly stumbling backwards into the row of plants behind upon seeing the figure standing, serenely watching him.

The little girl was his age, or nearly so, close to his same size in height as well. To Ezra’s 10-year old imagination she had seemed to glow, seemed to catch and reflect the hazy afternoon sunlight that hovered around her small body like a cloud….or a halo, he had thought more accurately. Like an angel from one of his storybooks. Her hands were clasped shyly behind her back and her head was cocked to one side as she herself straightened up from a crouch; she had been leaning down trying to catch a glimpse of him beneath the leaves and when he stood, she had mirrored his movement and straightened as well, her face friendly, her wide brown eyes open and curious. Her hair was pulled back away from her face by an oversize white ribbon and the strands of curls danced across her shoulders; the color reminded him of bayou mud, but beautiful: shiny, rich brown with a glint of red streaked throughout when the light caught it just right. The ribbon in her hair matched the tiny white bows along the hem of her sky blue dress.

“Hello.” She had said cheerfully, a big smile broke across her face. Ezra was typically a rather shy child and often kept to himself when jumping from station to station and new planet to new home. The scant few other children he had ever encountered had always overwhelmed him and made him slightly uncomfortable, causing him to withdraw into himself and the safety of his mother and father or the books they managed to scrounge up secondhand.

His shyness was nowhere to be found with this particular child, though; he’d surprised himself when his lips rose shyly to match her own.

“Hello,” He’d echoed quietly, dropping his gaze to land on her buckled shoes and lacy socks that were streaked with the yellowish-brown dust from the field he stood in. He imagined the shoes had been sparkling clean not all that long ago, the glint of shine appearing through the dust like splotches from a pox.

“My name’s Claire, what’s yours?” The sound of her voice permeated his little body and he had felt a shiver travel along his spine and down into his toes. She’d looked at him expectantly, waiting. His voice caught in his throat like a glob of peanut butter.

“E...Ezra…” his voice had squeaked and barely made it’s way past his lips.

“Hello, Ezra. Do you wanna play?” She’d watched him expectantly. All he had been able to muster was a shake of his head and another soft squeak of ‘I can’t.’ “Well, that’s ok. Maybe another time. I like to read. Do you like to read?” Ezra could only nod, still staring wide-eyed at the beautiful girl in front of him. “Me too! Oh, wait. I already said that!” She giggled and the sound made the hairs on Ezra’s arms stand at attention and caused his heart to begin pounding harder. As she continued to titter on about the book she was currently reading, Ezra had stood there staring at her, wiping his hands self-consciously on his overalls, hoping she wouldn’t get too close to the fields and dirty her shoes further or soil her dress or hair. She was so perfect and lovely...he didn’t want to think about her hair matted with sweat or mud staining her dress.

“What do you think? Would you like to read it when I’m finished? Then we can talk about it and pretend that we’re having the same adventures?” Ezra had realized she was directing the question at him and he’d nodded, dumbly having heard nothing she’d said about the book in question. She’d clapped her hands together at his agreement, and danced around in a small circle. “Oh I’m so glad! I never get to play with anyone my age. I’m always so bored and lonely. Now we can be friends and read and play hide-and-seek and draw and play on the swings. We’ll be best friends!”

A high pitched voice had hollered in the distance and the girl Claire had perked up, cocking her head towards the direction of the sound. Her face had fallen as she’d taken a step back.

“Ugh! That’s my Nana. I have to go. But I can’t wait to see you again Ezra. I’ve never had a best friend before!” She’d started to trot off but had stopped after a few steps, turning back towards him, her face painted with a question and a hint of concern.

“Wait...you do want to be friends don’t you? My mom always tells me that I get so excited about things that I don’t always wait for an answer. I hope I didn’t make you mad. Can we be friends, Ezra?” She’d waited, a pained hopefulness on her face.

Ezra had shaken himself, blinking several times to clear her away if this entire encounter had merely been his imagination. When she’d remained in front of him, he nodded slowly, shyly ducking his head and starting to retreat down the row of Twilaim.

“Yes. Sure. We can be friends…” He hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say as the calling voice in the distance sounded again and Claire had laughed and clapped her hands, dancing happily in place once again. She’d placed her palm against her mouth and smacked her lips against it, then waved her hand towards him, blowing him a kiss as she’d shouted her excitement, wishing him a good night as she’d turned towards the main house and skipped away.

A flash of white against brownish-green had caught his eye as he himself had turned for home and he crouched at the spot where they had both been standing. A tiny white bow clung to the prickly underside of one of the Twilaim plants he had been inspecting. He’d looked up, ready to call to her and return the missing bow, but just as suddenly as she’d appeared, she was gone.

Ezra finished recounting the tale of meeting his new friend, leaving out the part about finding the small bow and carefully smoothing the soft, silky material between his hand and his leg beneath the table. His mother listened expectantly, interested, nodding her head occasionally as he regaled her with the story.

As he fell asleep that night, he laid the tiny bow on the pillow next to his head and stroked the delicate material, remembering how the sound of her laughter made him feel like lightning inside and the buzz of happiness that filled him when she had proclaimed that they were going to be best friends. He whispered his earlier promise to himself as his eyes drifted shut.

“I met the girl I’m going to marry today.”

Chapter 3 (coming soon)

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[swfanficbyjz]

SW Rey Theory - Legacy of Light - Chapter 12

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(15 years after Revenge of the Sith, end of Rebels season 2)

             For weeks following her conversation with her mother about her father, Ashla had been buzzing with questions. No matter how many times she turned it over in her mind, it confused her. One moment, her mom had sounded happy, a soft smile on her lips as she talked about him. The next… she’d gotten sharp and silent. Every time she tried to bring it up afterwards, Ahsoka had quickly shut it down. She’d admitted that it was painful for her to talk about, but Ashla suspected there was more to it than what her mother had said. 

            She had loved him, that much was clear. She found herself hoping that she’d find a love like that someday too. Why bring it up at all if she really didn’t want to talk about it? She’d always wanted to know about her father, but she’d never had the courage to ask. Ever since she’d told her mother about Luke, she’d been distant, distracted and almost cold. She’d specifically said that Luke’s father was also her father, but surely Ahsoka would have admitted if she had another child, right? Then she’d adamantly commanded her to stay away from Luke. You have a brother, but you can’t talk to him ever. Why? That was what she wanted to know. 

            Something about her mom’s surliness when it came to the topic disturbed her. Almost everything she’d said about him had been positive, other than his inability to control his emotions. He’d been a hero, he’d died a hero. That’s what she’d said, but… their conversation had prompted her to ask her uncle Nyx about it. Which had been a terrible idea and she should have known better. He’d been drinking beforehand, which most of the time put him in a relatively easy-going mood. The moment she’d brought it up, he had snapped. Not that there were many times he wasn’t drinking anymore. 

            He’d ranted for at least thirty minutes about how no-good her father was if he abandoned her mother when she was pregnant. Revealing that he knew nothing about him except that his behavior painted him in a very bad light. Then that had led to another rant about how little he’d known about her mother too and ended with him complaining about being stuck with a kid the Empire would give anything to get their hands on; causing him to look over his shoulder everywhere he went. It made business that much harder on him and that he’d never understood what had possessed him to even keep the child after her mother abandoned her. The latter part as though he’d forgotten she was still there and could hear him. 

            His words had stung horribly. She’d always known that he was jumpy about her abilities and seemed to resent being stuck raising her, but otherwise he’d been a good guardian. He wasn’t perfect, but he took good care of her. Which kind of implied that he cared about her more than he liked to let on. He was terribly self-absorbed when it came to his own safety and profit. Surely he’d get reward money if he turned her over to the Empire, yet he never did. Her mother had sometimes told her that Nyx had stronger opinions than he did a backbone, and that pretty much summed it up. 

            Her uncle had acted as though he’d completely forgotten the conversation between them, but Ashla unfortunately, could not. And just a few short weeks after that, they’d landed on what appeared to be an uninhabited planet, but turned out to be a small enclave of refugees hiding from the Empire. If any of them were force sensitive like her, it wasn’t clear. But Nyx had insisted she stay there, it would be safer for her, and him, though he hadn’t said it exactly. 

            It had hurt at first, but then she’d accepted that maybe it was for the better anyways. She didn’t crave the excitement that others did. She hoped he’d be okay by himself. Her mom had been disappointed in him, but seemed to understand what had happened. Though she too had seemed relieved she was somewhere boring and safe. The other refugees had been welcoming and she'd fallen into the daily grind relatively easily. The only excitement was her daily talks with her mother. 

 ---

             She awoke with a start from her restless sleep. Her mom had told her she was going on an important mission and might not be able to talk for a few days. She'd needed to focus on what was in front of her. Ever since, every time Ashla tried to sleep she awoke with cold sweats and a racing heart. Feelings of dread slipped into her brain on a constant basis and only seemed to be getting worse. It was like she knew her mother was in trouble and could do nothing about it. She just kept begging the force to protect her. 

           She staggered out of bed feeling lightheaded and threw on a jacket so she could go get some fresh air. There was a nice meadow with a soothing stream several clicks away and she'd been haunting it like a ghost as she searched for peace the past few days. She'd been at the enclave for about six months now, though it was hard to tell the passage of time when she was so cut off from the rest of the galaxy. She weaved the familiar path there listening to the forest sounds. Her heart still raced and the cool air did nothing to calm her anxiety tonight.

           Without warning, she felt a searing burn across her senses and dropped to her hands and knees clutching at the moss on the forest floor. Did she dare open her senses to find out what was causing the nightmares and dread? Did she want to know? Yeah, she did.

           She reached for her mother, like she'd done every other night of her life. It felt as though she'd entered a storm. It took a few minutes before she was aware of what was swirling around her; aching, heartbreak, determination, repulsion, yet... love? This didn't have anything to do with her father did it? No, he was dead... That’s what her mom had said.

           Then for a split-second, she saw a black cape, a shiny black metal helmet turning to meet her coming assault. A leap, a slash and then exhaustion and fear. Followed by a ragged voice calling her name. No, it wasn't her name... it was her mother's. There was a rush of hope...

           In front of her stood a towering figure, dressed from head to toe in black. Around him was purple and red. Crackling lightning emphasized the sharp lines of a skull shaped helmet. She heard her mother's voice, Anakin? I won't leave you, not this time. She looked up at the face and saw a teasing of skin and one gold eye staring back at her. Yet in her heart there was pain, longing and love. 

           "Then you will die!" the monster breathed venomously and Ashla screamed, writhing on the ground in the damp moss. It took her a long time to catch her breath and find her bearings again. Who was that man? Was it even a man? Why did her mom feel so much love for him? Unless... 

           She stared unblinkingly at the sky as tears burned her eyes. Her father was alive. And he was about to kill her mother. No! She jumped up as though there was something she could do about it. She stopped running after a few minutes and leaned against a tree. "Mom?" she cried in the force. There was no answer. It felt like her heart had exploded. There was nothing but a void there now. She fell to her knees panting. 

           One of the villagers found her in the morning, still curled in a fetal position in the dirt. She felt numb and lost. Exhausted from searching for her mother in the force all night. There was nothing there. She couldn't be dead, she couldn't be. She was always there, as long as she could remember, her mother had always been there. There was just a hole there now. She'd never before felt so scared and unsure. She'd give just about anything for Nyx to be here right now. His presence wouldn't be that comforting, but it would be better than the feeling of loneliness that had overwhelmed her. 

 ---

           “May the force be with you, Ezra Bridger,” Ahsoka said aloud as she turned and headed back towards the temple. She was too tired and numb at the moment, to think about everything that had just happened. She was sorry to hear about Kanan’s death. Or rather, his eventual death. He was just another victim of the changing galaxy, like the rest of them. Ezra had told her to come find him the moment she got back, but she wasn’t ready to face the future yet. Right now, she needed to rest. Right now, she needed to mourn.

          When she reached the bottom step, she sunk down in exhaustion. She closed her eyes and reached out with the force. He was gone. So was Maul. She hung her head as the pain overwhelmed her. The tears fell, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She was vaguely aware of Morai swooping around above her, but she didn’t have the strength to look up. Her body shook, but she couldn’t allow herself to think right now. She let it all pour out, however unhealthy it was.

          Eventually the tears dried, but the pain of it still stung her soul. She glanced up to see that the convoree had landed on top of a giant stone block and was watching her curiously. Part of her wanted to be alone right now, but she didn’t shoo her away. The underbelly of the temple was dark and cold. In the distance she could make out a ring of light, shining in through the cracked upper levels. She pushed herself to her feet and limped towards it. The light illuminated a pile of stones that must have collapsed when the temple exploded. She noticed pieces of flooring and tile that matched the room they’d been fighting in.

          She looked up through the hole and could see white cracks still glowing from where she’d stabbed her lightsabers into the floor to break it open. This must be where he fell through. At least she wasn’t having to stare at a body; he’d survived the fall. Her final sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. Not that she wanted to think about what the consequences would be of saving him. Or the many more horrible things he could do because she’d helped him live on. She hadn’t been able to do it. He’d trained her to always do what needed to be done. In her mind, this didn’t count. Even if he needed to be stopped, there had to be a better way.

          She chewed her bottom lip and laid down across the stones, curling herself into a ball and tried to imagine him lying with her. Not as this monster, but as he’d once been. The pile of rubble was hardly comfortable, but it was the closest she could get to him for now. She let herself drift into a fitful sleep.

 ---

            Every muscle in her body ached when she awoke. She rolled her shoulders and tried to stretch. Her eyes fell on a crumpled piece of paper she hadn’t noticed before. She reached for it and smoothed it out over her knee, staring at it in disbelief. It was a drawing, a sketch, of her and Anakin. Her chest tightened as she studied it. It was casual, like a candid moment back in the day. Where had this come from? Who would have drawn this? She traced a finger across the image of her. It was so detailed; a perfect representation of what she’d seen in the mirror a million times. She followed her gaze in the picture and saw that she was looking up at him, a smile on her lips, adoration in her eyes. He towered over her, his long, unruly hair seemed to be blowing in the wind. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the way he’d been drawn looking at her. He was wearing a proud expression, but there was more too it; there was love in his eyes. He had his arm around her shoulders, a goofy grin on his face.

          She swallowed hard as the tears welled up again, threatening to overwhelm her. Had this come from him? Had he been carrying it all this time? Had he been the one that had drawn it? She hadn’t known he could draw. But then again, there were a lot of things about him she didn’t know. Strangely it made sense that he’d be an artist of sorts. He was always working on things with his hands, was drawing that much different? If he had been carrying it, then likely he was also the one that had crumpled it up and discarded it.

          She sat up suddenly, looking around, “Morai.” Ahsoka put out her arm for the convor to land on. “I know what I said to Ezra, but is there really no hope for him?” She’d been trying to swallow her doubts, but they were creeping to the surface. Why was it always easier to tell someone else to do something rather than do it yourself? No matter what anybody said, letting go of him just wasn’t that easy. Especially after seeing that he had carried this piece that still connected them. Morai hooted softly at her and she looked down at her feet. “There has to be something I can do. I know he’s still in there, I saw him! I can’t believe he’s truly gone.”

          The bird took flight off her arm and flew around for a moment and then transformed into her human form; her soft white glow illuminating the darkness of the temple. “When my brother killed you, your master, even in the face of death, truly believed there was hope you could be brought back. He said there was always hope. It was his plea that moved me to give myself to you.” Ahsoka looked up at her in surprise. Her friend never talked about the details of what happened that day. Death was a tiresome topic and yet it occurred around her all the time. Hearing that Anakin had plead for her life made the fact that he’d almost killed her that much worse. But she was being sincere; regardless of whatever had happened that had turned him into this, whatever had turned him against her, she still wanted to help him. She’d sworn in the heat of the moment that she wouldn’t leave him again and yet, she’d been ripped away from him. Which now that she thought about it, seemed to be a reoccurring theme in her life. Even if she wasn’t the one meant to save him, was there a way to protect the good in him? He was delusional in the lies he’d been living. The Emperor and the dark side had ensnared him well.

          “If I could be saved from death, there must be some way I can save his true self,” Ahsoka sighed.

          Morai moved closer and looked her over, “It would come at a great cost to you, but there is a way.”

          She looked up at her hopefully, “Really?”

          “I disagree with the Jedi and their view of attachment, but your love for this man blinds you to your own importance. That boy was led to the nether realm to bring you back because you have a bigger role to play in the galaxy. And yet, you are still willing to sacrifice yourself and your power to save someone that all others have given up on? Is it because you have a child with him?”

          “No… I think it’s more than that. It’s something that’s hard to explain…” she trailed off and played with her hands. Was Ashla the only reason? It couldn’t be. “You claim I have a bigger role to play and yet all the paths I see come back to him. He was the chosen one. I once thought I was not worthy to stand by his side and now… even if that is still true… my instincts tell me this bigger role still involves him. Maybe he still has a role to play. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, only that it does.” She'd left him behind that fateful day all those years ago. She'd left knowing he'd always be there. Like a rock; steady, strong… immovable. That's how she'd always seen him anyways. Others had called him volatile and reckless and maybe he was. But no matter where they were or what they were facing, all she had to do was look up at his face, his jaw set in determination, and she'd feel safe. She'd feel like they would survive another day. She never could've imagined a day she'd see his jaw set against her. 

            The temple bombing, the following trials, Bariss' speech... it had rocked both their faith in the Jedi order, but she was the only one that escaped. She had someone else depending on her leaving. The unborn child that had been both a curse and a blessing that day. She set her hand on her stomach remembering the feeling; the mixture of fear, betrayal, awe and nervous excitement. She'd always wanted to be a mother. The rules of the Jedi order and the oaths she'd sworn had never made that dream waiver. The dream had always been accompanied with a secondary one, however, that the child's father would be there too. Maybe it was all about Ashla.

          “Then I will help you,” Morai said. Ahsoka shook her doubts and looked at the ethereal image of someone who had become a dear friend in the last sixteen years. “Deep inside his subconscious lives the part of himself he wishes to destroy. So far, it has withstood the test of time, but without help, it could be lost forever. The journey there will be treacherous. It will demand much of your power and strength, and it will test your resolve in unimaginable ways. I will lead you there, but once there, you will be on your own. A word of warning however, even if you succeed in saving him, there is a great possibility you will lose yourself in the process. Where you are going there is nothing that can save you. No tricks of the force that can bring you back. You will be trespassing in a place he does not want you to be and he will retaliate. To survive, you must know when to let go.”

          “I am ready.”

          “Then first, you must see the heart of the Sith as a whole.” Morai reached up and touched a finger to her forehead.

          She stood on the ridge looking out across devastation as far as the eye could see. She didn't need a planet wide scan to know she was alone here, she could feel it. The echoes of death. Thousands of lives extinguished in the span of a heartbeat. It tore her very soul apart to try to comprehend that such a weapon could be constructed; even by the Sith. 

            She didn't dare touch the bodies frozen in their poses of death, they'd just turn to ash and blow away with the wind. Their lightsabers littered the battlefield, whispering stories of pain and suffering. She chose not to touch those either. It was like she could see the ghosts of every person she'd ever lost; dancing across the battlefield as though this place were the cemetery of the broken. Malachor, whatever it once had been, was now so steeply rooted in the dark side it was difficult to breathe.

            She let her eyes rest on the shattered peak of the temple weapon. Memories burned across her senses of the pain of her last fight. She hoped the holocron they recovered was worth the sacrifice. The only good thing she could see from all of this, was that this weapon could never be used again. Wouldn't stop them from creating more, so it was merely a small consolation. 

           “Search yourself,” Morai’s voice floated around her in this vision. “This place is but a glimmer of what you’ll be facing inside him. What do you feel?”

           “Anger.” It felt like she was hit with burning coals as the flash seared across her senses. It curled her fingers. “And hatred. The need to destroy…”

           “Deeper.”

           She squeezed her eyes shut, jaw clenched against her burning flesh. It felt as though she was sinking into a pool of molten lava. The pain was excruciating. It made her want to lash out, to throw this pain at someone else. She fell into a dark cavern and looked around; the anger melted into paranoia. Everywhere she looked it felt like something was going to jump out at her at any second. She was on edge reaching for her lightsabers but they weren’t there. Panic rose, there was no way for her to defend herself. She felt vulnerable, exposed… weak… She had to control this, she had to find power. “Fear,” she muttered suddenly, remembering this was just a vision. “Beneath the anger and hatred is fear.”

           She blinked a few times looking around as she came out of it. “You understand now. The heart of the dark side is fear,” Morai whispered. “How to you fight fear?”

           “With love,” Ahsoka breathed. “The opposite of fear isn’t bravery or power, it’s love. When I was afraid, I’d do it anyways. Why? Because he had always shown me love. For him I would walk any path, face any outcome. Had he been cold, had he just told me to be brave, it never would have worked. The fear would have destroyed me. But he didn’t. In every way he showed me love. With love, I could face my fears.”

           “And the absence of love?”

           “Fear turned into suffering… into darkness,” Ahsoka replied thoughtfully. “There is no light side or dark side, only love and the absence of it. Which means that the Jedi were wrong; a person is not lost forever to the dark side unless they are never again shown love.” Which is exactly what Palpatine wanted. He wanted Vader to not seem human. He wanted him to look intimidating and terrifying. That way people would look at the mask and see only a monster. She knew what he had done; it was monstrous. But she also knew who was inside that suit. She knew what he’d once been. That was why she was so threatening to the Emperor; she could see past the monster he’d become. For that… she had to die. Fear was the heart of the Sith. She’d found the knowledge they’d come to Malachor for. To beat the enemy, you had to understand them. Now she did. They were afraid. What had he said to her when she’d claimed she knew who he really was? Skywalker was weak… I destroyed him. They sought power because they were afraid to be vulnerable. Afraid of the light. Afraid of love, believing love made them weak. So they stopped loving.

           “Can your love save him?” Morai asked. It hadn’t been enough when she’d gotten that glimpse of him in the temple. What now felt like just a trick of the light. She wanted to save him, that much was true. She wasn’t sure if she could or not, or if she was enough. All that mattered was that she wouldn’t stop trying, because she loved him. She had no such fear of weakness. He’d once stopped at nothing to find her if she was lost, she would do the same. He was lost, and she would do whatever it took to find him. It wasn’t about Ashla, and it wasn’t about honor or belief that she owed him. It was simply about love. She loved him. She’d always loved him. And she wasn’t ready to let go. She would do it in the moment, if the moment demanded it. But deep down, she never would. It was just like she’d told Master Secura all those years ago; for the greater good she would not sacrifice many lives for the life of one… however… it didn’t mean she couldn’t try to save his too.

            “I don’t know, but I have to try.” If he’d carried a picture he’d drawn of them for sixteen years after turning to the dark side, that had to mean he was still in there. Anakin Skywalker was still alive, and she had to try to release him. The only way to do that was to walk the treacherous path to his soul. She hoped her love was strong enough.  

 ---

             The warm liquid felt like it was burning across his skin. Every part of his broken body screamed in agony; memories of the fire that had seared his flesh. Even after all these years, the wounds felt fresh. He forced himself to ignore the pain and push it aside, using it only as a tool to keep his hatred alive. His eyes stung as the last of his body was submerged in the medicinal liquid. He squeezed them shut. 

            Once the initial shock to his senses had worn off, he allowed himself to sink deep in the darkness of the force that swirled around him like a maelstrom. Everything was red and black. A cold like he'd never known, but there was power in it. Power to push forward, to reach for, to hang on. 

            Inside the maelstrom was ultimate power, and only those brave enough to take it. He let it bathe him in darkness, feeling rejuvenated by purpose and strength. The wounds she'd caused would heal in time. He just had to be patient. 

            She thought she'd won by cutting open his mask, but he would not be deflated so easily. She was weak, like he'd once been. If only she'd accepted his offer. Then he'd show her what true strength really meant. He'd fought for this. All of it. It was his life's work. The Emperor, in all his wisdom, had done exactly as he promised. He'd ended the Clone Wars. He'd brought peace. He'd fixed a floundering failure of a system. The losses and sacrifices, a small price to pay for such potential.

            He wished he'd understood his vision sooner. He'd have stood by his side to help build it. While the Imperials scuttled about building fancy weapons, they failed to realize the power of the force. The few remaining Jedi could not return it to the light. In the clarity of the dark side was there true peace and hope. 

            The weak would meet their due fate in time. Everyone he hurried along to it was another victory. The rebellion they assembled was pathetic. Good was easy to defeat, because it was predictable. It was compassion. It was wasted effort; fighting so hard for so little. If he'd realized that truth sooner, he never would have fought with the Jedi. They were too afraid to do what was necessary for victory, and they paid for it with their lives. Good riddance.

          He burned in anger over their fight. The lingering dissatisfaction of not being able to end years of preparation. It wasn’t that he wanted to destroy her so much as everything she represented. The longer she lived, the more dangerous she was. The fact that she had pulled Skywalker out of him so easily both made him angrier and also terrified. That part of him was dead and gone. After everything he’d done to get here, he could not have it surface like that again. At least she was gone now.

          She’d vanished in front of him as though she’d simply been a vision. He didn’t know how that was possible. He’d had his lightsaber up about to swing the death blow and then she was gone. He’d swung it through nothing. He thought he’d seen something right before she vanished, but he couldn’t recall now. His attention had been on her and only her. She’d stabbed her lightsabers in the floor causing it to break, but it had not worked for her fast enough. He still didn’t understand why she’d done that. She had to have known he’d take advantage of her dropping her guard. He’d trained her better than that.

            He fell deep in meditation, allowing the darkness to refuel his passion. He welcomed it into every corner of his soul. When he’d come to at the bottom of the temple, he’d reached his senses out for her, but she wasn’t there. It was like she’d never been on Malachor at all. He’d searched for her multiple times before leaving, but had felt nothing. Where could she have gone? It didn’t feel as though she was dead, just missing. He wanted to ask the Emperor; he wanted guidance. But he was afraid to tell his master of his weakness. Afraid to admit she had gotten away somehow. And worse, afraid that she still lived out there knowing that Skywalker wasn’t as dead as he should be.

          He tried to lose himself in meditation, but doubts continued to surface around him. He looked around at the world he’d been building in his head. A place as volatile and unpredictable as the planet he now lived on. An accurate representation of his soul. Here there was power, so much power. Here he could harness it and become everything the Emperor believed him capable of being. She may have broken through his conscious walls, but light could not penetrate here.

          He looked up suddenly, what was left of his heart fluttered before he could clamp it down. How had she gotten here? It was impossible! But she was still alive, just as he’d assumed.

            She stood at the edges of his consciousness; like discomfort you could feel but couldn't see. Except he could see her, clearly. Somehow she’d found her way in and he had to do something to get rid of her. Her orange face watching him in sorrow. The lines etched deep enough to distort her distinctive markings. He raged at her. She was foolish to enter here. What she wanted was dead and gone. He'd made sure of it, but nothing he threw at her made her leave. 

            She dropped to her knees as though in meditation. Light radiated from her, burning the darkness and pushing it back. He fought it with double the intensity and hatred; swirling it around her trying to suffocate it. The light she gave off could not be destroyed. He deigned to ignore her instead. He laughed at her efforts, mocking her audacity and persistence. Did she really think that her puny light would save his soul? 

            There was nothing left to be saved. He turned his back, but try as he might, he could not completely ignore her. She'd made herself at home in his consciousness. She came every day. Sitting there, meditating, shining. Most days he could pretend she wasn't there. Most days he could focus on other tasks, but every so often he felt drawn to the light, like a moth to a flame. Sometimes he'd just watch her, anger fuming in him. Other days he'd creep closer, wondering what was on her mind. 

            Why did she come? Why didn't she run away? No matter what he threw at her, night after night, she was there like clockwork. Haunting him, burning him, infuriating him. 

            He refused to acknowledge the longing. The yearning to reach to her. Every time it crept its way in, he'd burn it out with a fresh rush of hatred. Her efforts were futile. In time she would learn that. 

Next Chapter - >

[voulezvous-rpg]

Congratulations, Roman! You’ve been accepted as The Dealer — William “Babyface” O’Cleary, with a face claim of Thomas Doherty!

Here you go again, hitting us with another amazing character. Not only am I thrilled to have our resident dealer around, I’m so excited about the dynamic Babyface is sure to bring to the table. It’s almost heartbreaking, the story that comes along with him — that of a boy who’d both admired and lived in fear of the man who made him who he is, now stepping into those shoes himself, but at what cost? He’s clearly not afraid to make sacrifices, and I can’t wait to watch how he handles his newfound power — if things will really be different under a new king, and if he can keep his own cravings at bay. So excited to add another dangerous player to this game, and I can’t wait to watch Babyface in action!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Roman again!

Pronouns: they/them

Age: still the ripe old age of 25

Timezone & Activity: EST, about 8/10

IN CHARACTER

Desired Skeleton: the Dealer

Name: William “Babyface” O’Cleary

FC: Thomas Doherty

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 25

Occupation: drug dealer/pusher

How long has your character been around the Moulin Rouge? Whether working or visiting, how much time has your character spent around the club? His mother was a former dancer at the Moulin Rouge, so he’s been around in some capacity since he was only a few years old, when the club first opened. His father took a liking to her when he first moved to Paris from Dublin to start building his own empire, and spent years following her, courting her, accidentally getting her pregnant. He was all but raised in the backrooms of the Moulin Rouge while his father spent his time pushing. Things got bad between his parents when he was thirteen, and his mother left the Moulin Rouge without taking him along. After that his father raised him, and kept him further from that life until he was old enough to start dealing himself, after which the Moulin Rouge became his safe place again.

How did the fire impact your character? Directly or indirectly, how did the fire affect your character? What are their thoughts regarding the aftermath and the club’s reopening? Before the fire, he spent all of his time around the club, as a means of staying away from his father, as well as dealing and indulging, learning the trade but mostly having a good time nearly every night. The fire took away his safe haven. In the six months without the club, everything changed for Babyface. The club reopening is as much of a resurrection for himself as it is for the Moulin Rouge, he has a new life and he’s ready to have it all. His father is gone now, the business is all his, he’s of sound mind, and he’s ready to build his own empire of sin and indulgence, lording it over with clear, focused eyes.

Biography: cw drug use, violence, abuse

It’s funny how one moment could change everything. Sometimes it’s like he can still hear his father yelling, feel the sting of his cold, sharp ring on his face. It’s hard to tell why it had been different that time––he had heard it all a thousand times, felt it more times than he cared to admit––but something had changed with his father that night. Maybe it was that he had lost the one place that felt like home, that his father felt some of that as well. The disappointment had felt harsher, the hatred had felt real.

Everything was moving in a slow, technicolor blur, pleasant, somehow, not unnerving. Opium was good. It was fucking better than good. It was easy to see why people loved it, why people got addicted to the feeling so easily. It wasn’t like anything else he had tried. Better than the purest of cocaine, and the sweetest of trips.

But it also made it hard to think. On coke he was better than he was usually. He could think clearly, quickly, make deliberate decisions. Coke made William Babyface. On acid at least he still had some clue of what was real. But not on opium. There was no way to know what was real, no way to think. And so he had fucked up. His reactions hadn’t been quick enough, his thoughts too muddled, everything a confusing blur already from the fire, and he had fucked up. Because of the drug he was meant to be selling.

He had still been high when his father had heard what had happened. Everything was still moving slowly, beautifully, despite what he happened, when his father had passed his judgement.

“You’re a fucking idiot. You’ve always been such a fucking idiot. You never use the merchandise, haven’t you learned one thing from me? I’ve tried to teach you. I’ve tried to help you. Do you even listen to a word I say to you? Common sense. Leave that to the buyer. Or are you too bloody thick to understand? I should have known this would happen. You’re just like your mother.”

And then a sharp blow to the face. And another. And one more for good measure, before comforting, merciful darkness. Even now he can still feel it. Even after months the darkness is comforting.

He fucking knows better now. Hasn’t touched anything at all in months. Since that day actually. He isn’t completely sure if he had made the choice or if he was still unconsciously afraid that his father might show up again, even though he knew that wasn’t possible. His father was dead. He had made sure of that.

It was easier than he had imagined––because he had imagined it before then. All of his father’s associates knew him, liked him. And best of all, they had all been tired of being mistreated. Tired of being overworked and underpaid for risking their lives constantly. It was easy to get them to turn on him. A discreet suggestion here, the mention of what he would do better there, and they had done it without him even outright inciting things. They had done it without him having to get his hands dirty. Proof that they had been ready for new blood. They had been ready for Babyface.

And so one day his father was just gone, and suddenly William had found himself in backrooms, in private meetings, in his father’s chair, being asked for opinions, as if they had been waiting for this to happen. And maybe they had been. William could read people, he knew people, and he knew that people like them could only take being treated like shite for so long. It was why his mother left, after all.

His father had been a monster, yes, but he had also been a genius, and he had learned how to be the perfect salesman from him. He had built an empire from the ground up. He had made them rich. He knew what he wanted, but he didn’t understand how to get it the right way. He didn’t understand that he couldn’t treat everyone like shite and still expect to be followed. William understood, though. The illusion of control, the illusion of choice, the illusion of freedom is what they needed to be happy, and so he would give it to them all. Give it to them with a charming smile and innocent dimples in the backrooms of the club, under dim lights, surrounded by drugs and dancers and money, lots of money. More drugs to choose from for his clients means more happiness, means more money for him. He gave them freedom, so what if that freedom came with a dangerous price. He had given it to himself, after all.

It was funny how one moment could kill one person and raise another up. Sometimes a small scar on your cheekbone could make you into what you were meant to be. A small price to pay given what could be gained. People had to be sacrificed for an individual to survive ––his mother had known that–– innocence had to be lost. And the phantom feeling of his father’s pain kept him from forgetting what he had done, what had made him into this. And now he’s hungry for more.

Potential Plot Points: The biggest idea I have is that I’d love to see the temptation to fall back into old habits, and Babyface having to struggle with that, knowing that he could destroy what he’s trying to build if he does, but just missing that feeling of freedom so much. I’d love to see him having a deeper relationship with some of the people who buy from him, being that awful influence on them, but also with the potential for them to do the same for him. Also obviously what he’s doing is EXTREMELY illegal, and I’m wondering if there might be potential there that his father had some sort of agreement about selling there, but now that he’s taken over, things are a little less clear, and he has to deal with everything changing hands.

FREESTYLE

THE NAME: William got him affectionate nickname years and years ago, when he was a teenager trailing his father around the city, trying to be everything the imposing man was. At first he hated it, considering how infantilizing it is––a reminder that no one wanted to see him as capable of what his father was, that he’d always just be his child––but he’s come to see it as a great advantage, just like his seemingly innocent appearance. Now he wears the name as a badge of pride, preferring everyone call him Babyface to William. People know exactly who is being spoken about when they hear the name Babyface whispered throughout Paris, and that’s exactly what he wants.

THE FAMILY: Ezra O’Cleary was never really meant to be a father, that was clear enough even before William was born. Most of the other girls before (and after) Natasha Turpin realized the same thing. His game was picking a girl he liked, pampering her, indulging in her for a few months, then tossing her aside again. Natasha was stubborn, though, and when a rich and dangerous client got her pregnant she saw the opportunity. He wasn’t interested in a family, though, so she was cast aside, until news came that it was a son she was bringing him, an heir, someone to mold in his image. He allowed her to keep his son, raise him until he was old enough to start learning the trade. As William got older, though, and Natasha was needed less, the threats started coming. Things got progressively worse and worse for both William and Natasha, to the point where she left, promising William to one day come back to save him from this life, leaving him with nothing more than a kiss on the forehead and a switchblade he still carries. She never came back, and Ezra became increasingly more controlling. He continued where he’d left off on Natasha, and it only progressed until things finally came to a head several months ago.

PERSONALITY:

+resourceful: a part of his business has always been knowing how to cut corners, knowing how to do the best with what you have, making something from nothing. his creativity has only helped his trade grow steadily, but ingenuity can breed new problems.

+perceptive: reading people is something of a specialty of his. he had to get good at it quickly from a young age, as nearly everyone in the trade is out for their own benefit, and it is especially easy to fall into traps. but he is always alert, always watching, and he knows how to use that to his advantage.

+decisive: if a decision needs to be made, he won’t hesitate with an answer. he takes action immediately and aggressively, thinking things through quickly and logically, which has made him a very efficient leader. often times he makes the decision that will benefit him and his empire the most.

-anxious: with a father like his, it would have been impossible for him not to worry about even the smallest thing. while he is usually good at hiding it, sometimes the anxiety and paranoia show, especially when he is around the few people he feels close to. but it is constantly there just beneath the surface.

-moody: if things aren’t going his way or if things start getting difficult, he can easily fall into sullen, sulky moods that he won’t even entertain the idea of being brought out of until something changes for the better. he also has a tendency to hold grudges and take offenses personally, no matter what they are.

-stubborn: once his mind is set on something it is very difficult to change it. this trait, at times, makes his deals more difficult than they need to be, since he is so headstrong in his opinions, and almost always believes that he is the one who is right.

[masterstrange-closed]

𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐗𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐑, 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 / star wars trilogy au.

While my Prequels AU goes on to cover the time in which the original films take place in, this is not the same canon as that AU. This AU is formed around the basis of Stephen his canonical MCU during points in Original Trilogy, putting him in the same pool of characters as the OT cast. All point are flexible for re-plotting where they pertain to canon characters.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔:

Stephen is force sensitive, but he’s technically closer in age to Han Solo (based on the character’s ages at the starting point of their respective stories. He’s technically a bit older than him, which would normally place his birth year as the same as Hera Syndulla’s in 29 BBY. The problem with this, he would have been a youngling during Order 66 and would have died then and there, plus it would be too close to the prequels au.

However, making him the same age as Ezra, Luke and Leia feels a bit cheap and obvious. So in order to make him in a more reasonable age bracket, as well as avoid him being trained at the Academy, I’ve moved his birthday to the midpoint of the Clone Wars. Which would allow his family to have reasonable cause to not want to hand their force sensitive son to the Jedi, they are fighting a war, the public perception of them is turning… it feels like handing a lamb over to slaughter. Making him born 21 BBY, old enough to experience early empire days as a child, but not so young where he’s sharing a birthday with the main characters.

Stephen was born 21 BBY on Coruscant to his mother and father, he was the oldest of four children. When he was born, it didn’t take long for them to realise he was force sensitive — they lived on the same planet as the Jedi Academy and Temple, everyone knew the signs. So, it was no surprise when the Jedi came knocking. They indeed affirmed their child was strong with the force, and expressed interest in taking them.

His father, a prideful man, was more than willing to hand him over — but his mother refused. For she knew what the Jedi were training their knights for. War had spread across the galaxy, week by week ships of Clones and Jedi Knights left and so often only few returned. She refused to hand him over to them. His father was angry at this, but he could not convince her — the Jedi Master who had visited refused to take him without both their consent and left their home, but not before sensing that the Force had plans for this boy… one day.

When the Jedi fell, and the Clones and Force Sensitives were being rounded up, Stephen’s family feared for their lives and did all they could to suppress their son‘s abilities. It was for his own good, nobody knew what was happening, but it didn’t take long for whispers of children taken and never returned to spread as the galaxy fell into unrest. The Emperor would not have their son, they refused.

Stephen grew up, closed off from the force as his parents never stopped smothering his abilities. His father insisted that he not know, for a child’s curiosity could be a dangerous thing. To his mind, he was a normal child like any other. His family couldn’t just take off without any reason, it would be suspicious. So they were forced to hide their secret under the shadow of the empire for years. Salvation came when an excuse was dropped on their laps, his father’s mother was growing ill and old — she needed help on their farm in the outer rim. The outer rim was less regulated and watched as core planets were, or so they were told anyway, and Stephen soon found himself leaving the city planet, to a lush green place. The cities were spread out between settlements. Space to roam stretched out for miles. He didn’t love it, but he had no choice.

As he grew up, his interests shifted to medicine  —  Stephen had no desire to be a solider like many of his classmates, he planned to find himself in a medical facility or research laboratory once his training was complete. However, his school had other plans. The highest ranking students, were forcefully enlisted — under the claim they had a duty to their galaxy. Stephen tried to protest but they had little option, he had known that some training facilities took cadets at young ages but he had never planned to be one of them. At age fifteen, he was forced to be a cadet.

His goals to study medicine did not go unnoticed, while he was pushed into studying the basics for all storm troopers — he was pretty quickly undergoing training as a medic in field and facility. Many of his classmates fought and slowly vanished, whereas many others acclimatized nicely. As for Stephen, he just wanted to avoid ever having to go onto a battle field and end up in a facility, so he did his best to keep in good graces to do that.

Everything changed in 3 BBY, Stephen now an adult and on track in a placement in a Imperial Facility would come into his first brush with rebellion. The rebels broke into the base, seeking a member who had sent a message to them wanting to desert. What Stephen did not expect, was for it to be the very Imperial Medic he was shadowing, dumbfounded and at a crossroads of what to do — his mentor encouraged him to come with him, telling him that if he stayed, he’d be no better than a soldier. “Could you really take a life Stephen, or be told not to save one because they were the ‘wrong’ person?”

The answer was clear.

Stephen soon found himself on a rebel ship, heading to the rebel headquarters. There had been many causalities, and a fraction of the facility had gone up in flames. He knew he’d be listed as one of the dead, and to keep his family safe he had to remain that way. His family was gone to him. The next three years passed as he settled in the Rebellion, he knew he was doing good work — but the war was still lost and unreal to him at this point. Still, he trained under his mentor, his skills as a medic improving steadfast over time. The war was irrelevant in his mind, what mattered was his ability and skill. He had a knack for precision, highly intuitive to what ailed his patients. It was almost miraculous at times, this was his focus. He wanted to learn, the rebellion merely offered a better deal. Besides, the war was still nonexistent…

The Battle of Scariff changed everything, the events that went down were on a scale unseen! He’d been stationed on one of the rebellion ships that managed to escape into Warp from the Empire, but it was clear this was a point of no return. The match had been lit, the the fires of rebellion were blazing. It felt like everything happened so fast, they had only just barely had a chance to settle back on the Yavin base before the Death Star appeared in the sky above them. The Princess had returned with a scrappy crew and a crazy scheme to take the thing on. He’d never been so scared in his life, but it was also somewhat freeing. Stephen understood, he knew why this mattered. He had seen hope, the possibility to challenge what had been considered standard life and win. He’d been forced to be a storm trooper, he’d been taken from his home for a war he didn’t believe in by the Empire. Now, he was going to do his bit to take them down by choice.

Stephen spent the years of the war rising through the ranks until he was a chief medical officer; he saw so much war and bloodshed — but refused never to contribute to it on his own. At no point did he choose to kill, for he never knew which soldiers were kids like he’d been, pushed by the status quo of their home worlds to fight in someone else’s war.  Over time, he found himself on missions where they would find themselves in situations where strange things would happen around Stephen, they’d escape situations they shouldn’t have done.

However, there was no time to really explore this as tragedy struck. Stephen had been on a vessel that was caught by imperial warships, the imperial ship was destroyed, but at the cost of their own. The ship was failing and crashing onto a moon, a distress signal sent from the wreckage. When Stephen woke up, he had been one of the few survivors but that miracle had a price. He had sustained many injuries in the crash, but the biggest one had been his hands. He was a medic, what use was he without his hands? He had finally found a cause to believe in, and now it was being ripped from him. They were useless, their supplies were limited at the time. There was nothing that could be done.

They knew they couldn’t send him home, he was listed as dead by imperial records. He had been injured on mission, so he had some rights. He was given random duties to try to accommodate, but it did nothing for his pride or mood. He was ruined, even as the death star fell over Endor, he knew that without his hands he was very limited options. What he didn’t know was that when you are at your lowest, you are open to the most extreme change. Long suppressed, his force sensitivity began to show. At first in small ways, in small crowds; but quickly grabbing attention when he used the force to stop a falling piece of a fighter from hitting another person. All eyes turned to him and in hushed tones were saying the same thing: Jedi.

It didn’t take long for this to reach Luke Skywalker, who was taking it upon himself to rebuild the Jedi order and bring balance to the force. Stephen had nothing to lose, and he was frightened of what he had uncovered and the memories that came streaming back of his parents trying to hide it and make him suppress it were hard to come to terms with… so he agreed to go with him, hoping to make sense of it all.

Stephen studies in the new Jedi school that’s eventually established under Luke Skywalker, but he’s already completed his training by the time the school falls to the Knights of Ren

He eventually goes home, but he finds his family is no longer there. After the war began, earlier attacks were reevaluated and it was discovered that he might have defected with others that night at the facility. They were eventually released from interrogation, but his eldest sister and parents were send to a labor camp as punish, his younger sister and brother were sent to an orphanage. His younger sister died from illness before the end of the war, but he eventually is reunited with his brother. Their parents and older sister were lost as many separated family members were, but they swear to find out one day what happened to them.

Stephen felt the destruction through the force, and he went back to try to find any survivors who might have escaped the attack. He expected to find Master Luke, but he was gone. Logic dictates he’s dead, but he knows through the force he isn’t. That’s all he can tell. He denounces the title of Jedi once the temple falls, believing that the balance of Jedi and Sith is a volatile one as the light and dark can never be fully snuffed out — the goals of both organizations. Yet, he remains open to the force, believing one day another way can take it’s place.

Stephen eventually goes to join the Resistance, taking those survivors who are old enough to fight with him. With the younger children, he takes them home and helps relocate them away from the First Order’s scouts first to be safe. The numbers for both are very small. It’s mostly those who had been away from the temple for various training or Jedi missions at the time of the attack.

He fights with the Resistance, he’s tempted to take out Kylo Ren for what he did — but he senses through the force that this is not his destiny, so instead he stands by General Organa and offers himself and his saber to her cause.

[prairiesongserial]

11.2

Friday didn’t know what she had been expecting, but the morning light revealed a different dimension to the Madsen and Graves Circus. In the dark, the circus had seemed more forbidding, more cold and clinical. In the morning sun, Friday was blinded by reds, purples, and turquoises. The trucks were rusted at the edges, painted in stripes and zigzags of color. Some of the wagons they towed were beautiful little houses. Others clearly held supplies, and weren’t meant for living in or showing off to guests.

Friday wandered around as the smells of breakfast chased her. She felt steam on her skin, though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out the source. There was one thing that still bothered her about the circus, that still struck her as creepy. All of the caravans and trucks were strung round with chimes and bells, so that the mildest wind set them off in a dissonant clatter. The sound made Friday’s skin prickle. She wandered back the way she had come.

Soon Val crawled out of their tent to find her, his hair sticking up. He tried to flatten it at the same time as he stepped into his boots, and nearly fell over. Friday took a few steps nearer to the tent to save him from hurrying on her account.

She was about to open her mouth and say something - she didn’t know what, she’d figure that out while she was saying it - when the sound of jazz trumpet slammed into her chest, buzzing through every bone. Friday looked for the source of the sound, head empty of any thought except desperation to make it stop, but she didn’t see the musician. The clamor of boots on wood joined the trumpet as half-dressed carnies fell out of tents and caravan wagons, some with toothbrushes sticking out of their mouths. Friday let them flood past her and Val.

A window slammed open on one of the wagons, this one fuschia with turquoise trim, and Johannes stuck his head out.

“Shut up, we get it!” he hollered. He slammed his hand down on the windowsill, then retreated back inside. When he reappeared on the steps of his wagon, he was flattening his hair with spit. The white - blond, really, now that Friday saw it properly - was sticking up. The brown side looked okay.

Johannes was dressed like a normal human being today. He wore black slacks and suspenders over a button down with sleeves that may have been a touch more on the romantic side than the practical.

“Nice bedhead,” he said to Val as he passed. Before Val had time to respond, Johannes was already talking to someone else, then yelling at his brother Ezra. Something about the calls to breakfast needing to be “Mezzo piano, not mezzo forte, you dick.”

Friday and Val followed the crowd, and eventually she spotted John’s dunn head among them, as well as Cody, who was still wrapped in a blanket. Breakfast was bread and oatmeal, just about as good a meal as they would have gotten at the convent, except Friday already knew she was going to miss the nuns’s fig jelly.

No one got up after they were finished eating. They sat on scattered chairs and stools that had been left out the night before, or squatted over the dewy grass, or ate standing. Friday soon learned why. Ezra and Johannes stood more or less in the middle of the crowd, Ezra with his trumpet braced against his shoulder casually. At the mere sight of it, silence fell. Ezra lifted it slightly, and was met with a chorus of shouts of dissent. He relaxed again, clapping Johannes on the shoulder.

“Spotlight’s yours,” he said. He wandered off a few paces, squatting with another cluster of carnies and resting the trumpet on his knees.

“Alright,” Johannes said, voice the perfect volume to reach everyone without losing quality. It was actually impressive, and Friday found herself listening more to the voice than the words.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” he said. “We’re rushing today. Ten hours on the road. Then we make it to Everglades City tomorrow.”

This was met with groans.

“We used to stop in Tallahassee,” someone complained.

“Well, you can be my guest and phone them to ask why they don’t book us anymore,” Johannes snapped.

There were murmurs. Friday didn’t catch any particulars, but it seemed the carnies had their theories.

“Straight through to Everglades City, which means we’re moving fast, and we’re only stopping once before we camp.” Johannes attempted to smooth down that tuft of blond hair again, but it sprang back. He seemed to notice that everyone was still looking at him and made a big get-out-of-here gesture. Everyone clattered into movement, bowls finding the wash basin, and carnies finding something to make themselves useful.

Friday found herself in the bed of a truck, feeling unsafe. The other carnies with her, seven in all, were wise to how this worked. Some sat on pillows, while others had gotten more creative, sitting on bags of rice and laundry sacks. Friday, Val, John, and Cody were the only ones whose bottoms felt every bump in the road.

Johannes was one of the carnies in the truck bed with them. He sat in a wing-backed armchair lashed down with ropes, and he had dolled himself up for the journey, too, having added a two-tone silk vest to his ensemble. His hair lay flat.

Friday wasn’t sure what she thought about Johannes riding with them. He had his own fuschia-and-turquoise wagon which had to be a lot more comfortable, and being the leader, surely he had something better to do than babysit the newbies. On the other hand, he looked pretty cozy in that armchair. Maybe this was his preferred mode of travel. Friday was just a little too on edge to ask.

“So,” said Johannes suddenly. He hadn’t addressed them since the trucks started moving, but now his two different colored eyes pinned first Friday, then the rest of the four of them. “What’s the backstory? How came you to the Madsen and Graves Circus?”

“You kidnapped us,” Cody said. His guitar lay in his lap, and every bump made it twang an out of tune complaint.

Johannes waved one hand lazily in a curly-cue. “You know what I mean,” he said. “You weren’t born a foursome of stunt bikers. Handy work on the bridge, by the way.” he sighed. “I wish we could have a Globe of Death, but the trucks just don’t have the horsepower to drag all that around.”

He stared at them, propping his chin in one hand. It wasn’t an aggressive gesture, as it might have been if Johannes had been anything other than utterly relaxed.

“Do you play?” he asked Cody, nodding to the guitar. “Well?”

Cody blinked up at him.

“I, uh… I busked, for a while,” he said. He held up his three-fingered hand. “Kinda can’t anymore.”

“Learn to play left-handed,” Johannes said. Friday was fascinated by him; he had no sympathy at all. “And what about you, hm?” Johannes continued, looking at John now.

John gave him a glassy stare. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

“I can’t do anything like that,” John said.

“What can you do?” Johannes pressed. “Sing? Dance? Juggle knives? You have the look of a well-coordinated man, John.”

“Leave him alone,” Friday snapped, and Johannes’s eyes flicked back to her.

The rustle of leaves and branches against the sides of the trucks ahead of them in the caravan warned them to duck, and they all did so as one. The low branches sang as they whipped the air where their heads had been. It had only taken once for Friday to learn this one. They all straightened again.

“Alright, what about you?” Johannes asked. “Friday,” he added, testing her name as if he wasn’t sure about it.

“I’m a performer,” she said. “I sing, dance, and I may not juggle knives, but I do mean burlesque.”

That would hold his attention for a while, if she was lucky.

“Where did you do burlesque?” Johannes said with interest. A couple of the other carnies were paying attention now, too.

She explained the Ace of Spades to them, and while she hadn’t meant to, once she’d started, she couldn’t stop: she laid out everything. All the girls, the routines they would do, the funny customer stories.

A couple of the carnies in the truck with them did the burlesque tent, and she found herself enjoying comparing notes with them. The customer stories were pretty much the same, but still fun to tell.

Friday lost track of the others for a while, but her ear caught part of a conversation between Val and Johannes.

“I was - am - a priest,” Val said quietly.

He wasn’t dressed like it. If his priest stuff was clean, he usually preferred it. But today he wasn’t even wearing the collar.

“That’s wonderful!” Johannes said, clapping his hands. “I’ve always wanted a priest for the circuit. Ezra will love this. You know, our mother was the priest before she retired. She wasn’t a real priest, obviously, but she had the whole get-up and would do a sermon, squeeze a few silver pennies from the respectable crowd. I never understood why she didn’t want to be the ringmaster, when it was her circus. But that was Mame, she did things her particular way.” Johannes crossed his arms behind his head as the truck ran over a particularly bad bump in the road. “A priest...” he said again.

Val looked uneasy. He wasn’t saying anything yet, but Friday knew he had a good, long lecture in him for Johannes. It might have to wait until he had his feet on solid ground.

They took their break somewhere in northern Florida, and everyone scarfed down an early dinner. Johannes disappeared for a while after they ate, taking a hunk of bread with him. Everyone was busy, running around trying to squeeze something or other in before the trumpet ordered them all back into the horrible truck beds.

Friday knew what she was going to scramble for: she was going to find something to sit on for the next six hours. She didn’t care who it belonged to. Combing through one of the truck beds, this one laden with junk rather than room for passengers, she found something even better than a pillow: a slim mattress. There would be room for her, Val, John, and Cody to sit.

She was hauling her prize back to the truck - it wasn’t hard to find, with that armchair - when the trumpet started up again. The carnies had a different attitude, now that it wasn’t half past dawn.  Those who knew the song joined in, some whistled along, and others just ignored it, singing competing songs or talking and joking over it. But everyone moved toward the center of the circle of trucks. Friday heaved her stolen mattress over the lip of the truck bed and left it hanging halfway.

This time, it was Ezra alone waiting for the circus, trumpet dangling from one hand. He tucked his light brown hair behind one ear as he waited for the circus to settle in.

“Whaddaya want?” one carnie heckled.

“Ha ha,” Ezra said, shooting him a glare. “Look, we have to get some things straight about Everglades City.”

“Aw, you’re kidding,” someone else said.

“I know you all know, but the newbies don’t,” Ezra argued. “And you’ll want to do it even less when we camp for the night after ten hours in the trucks.” He cleared his throat. He was clearly less of a leader than Johannes. It didn’t appear to come as easily to him - his voice was softer, and his clothes much less flashy. Still, Friday was interested to see how fully the circus gave Ezra their attention.

“So,” Ezra said. “So, the thing about Everglades City is, the four newbies won’t have anything to rehearse in time. We perform the night we arrive. But that doesn’t mean anyone can wander off, okay? There’s a reason Johannes doesn’t plan for even a minute of downtime in the city.”

Well, that was interesting.

“You just don’t want us spending money on the moving pictures,” someone whined. “I miss the movies.”

“You miss Madeline Bellamy,” his friend said.

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna get her autograph this time.”

Friday was having trouble tracking this conversation. She nudged her neighbor, a very tall woman with black hair cut square under her chin.

“What’s a moving picture?” Friday asked.

The woman smiled down at her with a light in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, you have to sneak away. You’re telling me they don’t have movies where you’re from?”

Friday gave her a frustrated look, and finally the woman whispered an explanation.

“It’s...well, it’s just what it sounds like. The pictures are projected up on a screen, and they move.  You have photographs where you come from?”

Friday nodded. They were an expensive luxury, but that at least she had heard of.

“So, it’s like that, but the people in the photographs move around,” the woman said.

Friday snorted. “Yeah, okay, fuck you, too.”

“No, for real,” the woman said. “So, see, Madeline Bellamy is a movie star. She’s the princess of the Bellamy family, they run Everglades City. Circus doesn’t make much money there because the movie business is so strong, but Ezra and Johannes’s mom knew the head of the Bellamy family, so…” the woman finally shrugged. “It’s a lot to take in for your first show with us. But you’ll be okay. I’m Andie. It’s Friday, right?”

Friday looked up at her with a grimace of disbelief. “Yeah,” she said, her attention straying back to Ezra. He had lost control of the crowd, somewhat.

“Look, alright! We can be done the meeting,” Ezra hollered. “Just - newbies. Stay out of the way, don’t attract attention. And for God’s sake don’t split up.” Ezra waved them off with much the same gesture Johannes had used to end the breakfast meeting. Friday was close enough to hear him mutter to himself as he began to make his way out of the circle. “...better be done with the phone, we still have to go over the scene transitions.”

Then he was gone, and everyone was cracking themselves up making predictions for Madeline Bellamy’s latest movie. The name Bellamy echoed across the circle, and Friday wasn’t sure she liked it. She knew she didn’t like what Ezra had said at the end - that bit about not splitting up.

She spared the circus a last glance. She found Val first. He was talking to the tall woman, Andie, who was showing him a juggling trick - with batons, not knives. Cody and John didn’t look exactly at home, but they were more at ease than they had been last night. Friday didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Satisfied, she strode off for the truck. She had a mattress to finish stealing.

11.1 || 11.3

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Blind Warrior

Arc of Blind Warrior

The forest paths were easy to navigate when you could ask a gnome for guidance. Ian led the way through the forest, blind in only his sight. He would have liked to have seen the forest in normal detail, as it was he got only blazes and blurs of green from the trees and foliage. Some were brighter than others; these ones were the more powerful trees. They stopped only at the end of the days to camp, Ian eager to get to Alma.

“We be gettin there tamarra,” Ian said after he dismissed the gnome who had been his guide for the day. It had been a week’s worth of riding and at last the gnome had told him they were close.

“Aye n ya’ll get ta see yer bonnie lass,” Rork said, Ian hearing his bitterness though he hid it well. Ian ignored the jibe and sat by the fire next to Glen. Ian sensed the princess arguing with the knight and left them be, it seemed all Pricilla ever did was whine. Glen put a hand on his arm and Ian turned to him.

:There is something I need to tell you about Bailey: Glen said gravely in Ian’s mind. :I tried to tell you before…:

“But ye feel guilty,” Ian said and Glen gave a start. “I can hear it in her voice, er whatever it be in our minds. Guess that be the draw back o speakin in the minds like, ye reveal too much.”

Glen pulled his hand back, Ian seeing his aura shift with fright.

“Ye baint want ta tell me now?” Ian asked and saw Glen’s hesitation. “It be alright Glen, I can wait til we see Bailey.”

Hesitantly Glen reached out again and took his hand.

:This is the only way I can communicate, but I will be careful from now on. I will wait to tell you so I can tell both you and Bailey what happened.:

“Alright,” Ian said and Glen withdrew, walking away to perform his prayers.

“He is asking for forgiveness,” Horace said and Ian turned to him. “He is asking the gods for forgiveness, what did he say?”

“Nowt, but somewhat be eattin him,” Ian answered.

“He has always had to apologize,” Horace said sadly.

“I ken, but it baint be his fault, n now he sits in his skin better,” Ian said. “He be growin.”

“I know,” Horace answered Ian reading more in his voice, but leaving him to his own inner turmoil. He thought then of his own brothers. He had been the youngest so he understood Glen better than Horace. Ian felt Horace was a lot like some of his brothers, not all his brothers picked on him; they never defended him either.

Of course he and his mother weren’t the only ones to feel the back of their father’s hand; all of his brothers had received at least one blow in their lives. Ian now considered his family, the hollow ache left by the loss of his mother, and his dislike of the rest. If given the chance he felt he might return to his home again, if only to see his brothers not his father.

Yet that future seemed far away.

They set out the next day and it took all Ian’s willpower not to drive his heels into Enbarr’s flanks and gallop through the trees. Will sat on the saddle before him, Ian had told him about his mother as much as he could, but part of him feared Will had forgotten her and his twin. Ian also feared Matt had forgotten him as well. They were just children after all, how could they remember?

They arrived around midday, the city suddenly appearing around them in the trees. Ian could see nothing of the city, but Rork filled him in on the details.

“I coggin we gotta find a stable fer the horses,” Rork said. “Nawt any way we’re getting em up inta the trees.”

“Ye lead on then,” Ian said. Rork led Ezra’s horse to the front and Ian followed as he led them into the city. Ian sensed the people they passed as colorful auras of blues, indigos, and greens unlike most people, the Aldan all had a touch of power it seemed. He also sensed their interest in strangers, many heads turning as they rode along the raised paths over the fields. Rork found them a stable to rent and Ian helped him settle the horses.

“Now what?” Rork asked outside the barn.

“We find Ezra’s kin first,” Ian said turning to the mad man. Ezra was holding himself, rocking back and forth as he gazed up at the trees around them.

“And how do we do that?” Rork asked.

“Ask,” Ian said as he turned to Ezra. He took the man’s arm, and gently let his spirit hold Ezra’s. The mad man calmed and his eyes focused as he turned to Ian.

“Ian we are in Alma?” Ezra said frowning slightly.

“Aye Ezra,” Ian said, learning long ago to keep his words simple. “Ye be home. Ye ken where yer kin be?”

Ian both felt and saw Ezra’s struggle, his spirit lurching like a fish on the line. Slowly Ian kept him on track, and Ezra’s mind cleared.

“Croft’s run is in the southwest of the city,” Ezra said slowly. “Next to the Sect Gardens.”

“Thank ye,” Ian said. “We’ll take ye home now.”

Ian let Ezra go so he could snag a nearby gnome, there were thousands in the city more so in any other human city, and told it to lead them to the southwest of the city. The gnome nodded and marched off, Ian leading the way again. They had to climb into the trees and over bridges, the Aldan building most of their buildings up in the trees. Pricilla slowed them, the princess having to stop often to catch her breath.

“This is ridiculous,” Pricilla gasped as they rested on a landing. “Why build a city like this?”

“The Aldan seem able to get around just fine,” Horace said and pointed. All Ian was able to see were shifting colors so he turned to Rork.

“The Aldan hop about like tree frogs,” Rork said. “They be as quick as monkeys in the trees.”

“Not all of us were made like monkeys,” Pricilla said with distain.

“No, it seems only the Aldan have an inherent grace,” Horace answered. “Pity your Aldan blood is a bit thin.”

Ian saw Pricilla’s spirit boil with anger so stepped between the two.

“There be no call fer insults,” Ian said. “We be what we be.”

Horace looked away, Ian seeing his aura twist in on itself in guilt, but pride covered it so the knight did not apologize. They continued on up through the trees.

None of the Aldan approached them, yet Ian could feel all their eyes on them. Their gaze wasn’t hostile, or even active, it was only measuring and laconic. Ian couldn’t help but wonder at the Aldan’s apparent apathy.

The gnome led them to the southwest part of the city and Glen started to lead them then. Ian gathered he had seen the Sect and let him lead the way. As they walked towards the Sect someone cried out to them. Ian turned to an Aldan woman walking over to them, the woman several shades of green.

“Ezra!” the woman cried as she ran forward to embrace Ezra. He flinched back from her seeming startled by this action. Ian was as well, it was the first time he had seen an Aldan so emotional. “You’re alive!”

“Strange woman,” Ezra said shaking his head. “She has leaves in her hair.”

“Madam,” Ian said and Ezra’s mother turned to him. “I be Ian o Orna. We found Ezra in Cair Leone, but he be mad. We had business here sos we took him with us.”

He saw sorrow and joy waring in the woman’s aura and she bowed to him.

“My name is Lauren, thank you for bringing my son home to me. I thought he was dead when Versae fell. Mad or not he is still my son.”

“I be glad en he be with ye,” Ian said and reached out to Ezra again. It was harder to steady his spirit; Ezra was upset by Lauren obviously. “Ezra, this be yer ma.”

Ezra was confused by this, but he was at least calmer.

“She is not a stranger?” Ezra asked.

“Nowt,” Ian said. “Go with her, she’ll care fer ye.”

“Will he remember me?” Lauren asked.

“With time,” Ian said hopefully. “I can only hold him fer a short while. Best ta talk ta him in simple ways.”

“Thank you,” Lauren said. “What has brought you to Alma? How did you get into the forest?”

“That be a long story,” Ian answered, and hefted Will. “But mine wife be Aldan, we be here ta meet with her.”

He saw Lauren’s aura shift and swirl, she knew something and seemed about to speak when Ezra spoke.

“The trees are whispering again,” Ezra said uneasily. “The shadows, you hear them don’t you?”

“Easy now,” Lauren said soothingly. “You always were jumping at shadows. I guess I’d better take you home. How about a nice cup of tea?”

“Tea?” Ezra said as Lauren lead him away, whatever she had been about to say forgotten. “Will there be scones?”

“Of course, you always loved scones,” Lauren answered.

They watched the pair walk away, Ezra muttering once again.

“Will they be alright?” Rork asked.

“Baint ken but I be sure Lauren baint care either way,” Ian answered. “She just be glad he be alive.”

“Aye,” Rork said, empty words hanging between them. One reunion was done, and while it was easier than Ian had expected it hadn’t been as satisfying. He turned to their gnome guide once more and told it to lead them to the largest building in the city. Once again they walked the paths and bridges through the trees, passing more and more people along the way.

At last they arrived at the Palace, Ian only able to guess at some of the structure as there were enough growing things around it to give him a guess to shape from the negative space it cast. The small cast of details seemed cruel now, getting only hints at a larger picture he would never see seemed worse than complete darkness. They walked up to the great doors and a guard stepped before them.

“Your names and business here?” the guard asked, polite but not gracious.

“I be Ian, n this be mine son Will, I be married at Bailey Alvar,” Ian said seeing the guard’s aura ripple with surprise. “This here be Rork o Loamy Downs, Glen n Horace De Modeste, and her ladyship Princess Pricilla Drasir.”

“You should introduce me first peasant,” Pricilla hissed and stepped forward. “Sir I…”

“Come this way,” the guard said cutting Pricilla off, not even interested in her. Ian saw her ire rise in her aura, but the guard was already walking away so they followed. The guard led them through a great entry hall and then into lesser hallways in a twisting path. Ian was already lost; he couldn’t sense anything of the walls around them with his extra sense.

Then they entered what Ian at first thought was an open aired garden telling by the amount of greenery. Then he realized it was a green house, telling by the lack of sylphs and the moist air. The guard led them to a person working on the plants, her aura a multitude of shades of green. The guard bowed as the woman looked up at them.

“Majesty, this man here…”

“Queen Alora Tira Dora,” Pricilla shouted cutting the guard off. She hurried forward and stood before the queen not even bowing to her. “These men kidnaped me from the Court of Miracles! They stole my gown and jewels and made me wear these horrid rags! They feed me nothing but moldy bread and stale water! Please majesty save me! Send me back home!”

“Lady Pricilla,” Alora said kindly embracing Pricilla. “First let us get you a bath and proper clothes; these are not suited for court. For now you may shelter here in the Court of Dreams.”

Ian was surprised by the queen’s warm reception of Pricilla, but Pricilla seemed like this had been the proper response all along.

“And what about these scoundrels?” Pricilla said joy at finally having someone vindicate her.

“Milady, we saved her from an assassin,” Horace said. “We were only bringing her into hiding where she would be safe here.”

“Liar!” Pricilla shrieked.

“I’m afraid he is right milady,” Alora said kindly. “I received a messenger bird that there was an assassin’s attack in Cair Leone. No one was hurt, but I was told you were taken away where you would be safe here. Don’t worry, I have plenty of fine gowns for you to wear, and I am sure you will enjoy the splendors of the Court of Dreams.”

“Really?” Pricilla said seeming to think things over. “Alright then. A bath would be lovely.”

“Of course,” Alora said and turned to the guard. “Take Lady Pricilla to the steward, he will see her set up here in the palace.”

“Yes majesty,” the guard said. He bowed and led Pricilla away out of the greenhouse.

“Thank you majesty,” Horace said. “I suppose you’ve heard then of the events in Cair Leone?”

“Yes, word has reached me of the Queen’s death and Sherah’s,” Alora said coldly. “I thought it best the child not hear about her mother’s death since she does not know of it. Tell me, do I speak to her murderers? Otherwise why kidnap the princess?”

“We saved her life,” Horace answered. “There is betrayal at the heart of this majesty; Jeanne has had a double living her life in court. The woman’s name is Lucia, and she is behind the plot to murder the Queen and Princess Sherah. We, that is Glen my brother and I, managed to save Pricilla though an assassin followed us. She is not safe now in the Court of Miracles, Lucia would have her killed.”

“I see,” Alora said. “Your name?”

“Sir Horace De Modeste, this is my brother Sect Glen De Modeste.”

Ian saw Glen’s displeasure at the title, but he could not speak up against it.

“Very well,” Alora said. “You are welcome to shelter here in the Court of Dreams. I only ask you keep Pricilla company and guard her, a familiar Regarian presence will help her. Eventually she must learn of her mother’s death and I’d not have her face that alone.”

“Yes majesty,” Horace answered, sounding less than pleased but he would follow orders.

“And who else is in my presence?” Alora asked turning to Rork and Ian.

“This be Rork o Loamy Downs,” Ian said. “N I be Ian, this be my son Will.”

Will, who had been hiding his face in Ian’s tunic, turned to Alora then at the mention of his name. Ian saw her aura swirl with a flurry of emotions, joy mixing with guilt and many others that confused him.

“You are Bailey’s lover,” Alora said softly.

“Aye,” Ian said stepping forward. “Ye ken her?”

“I am her great aunt on her mother’s side,” Alora answered. “May I hold him?”

“Aye, ye be related then baint?” Ian said handing over Will.

“Amazing, he looks just like Matt,” Alora said softly. “You have been taking good care of him.”

“Thank ye,” Ian said. “Please, where be Bailey?”

Alora flinched, only slightly but Ian could see more of her emotions than she let show physically; the question had caused her pain.

“I am sorry, she has married Lord Ashel and now carries his child,” Alora said and Ian felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He stumbled back and Rork caught him, holding him up by the elbow. Ian shook him off and faced Alora again.

“Where is she?” Ian asked desperate. “I need ta see her.”

“She does not want to see you,” Alora said a little more strongly now. “She asked me to intercept you. She says she no longer loves you and hopes you can move on. I am sorry…”

Ian’s mind was whirling because since he gained his second sight he had learned to tell when a person was lying. He had seen the truth in Alora’s statement that Bailey had married another and carried his child, just as he saw she was lying when she said Bailey didn’t want to see him and didn’t love him. She was lying to him to keep him away from Bailey, and he didn’t have the power to challenge her. She was queen here, if he demanded to see Bailey Alora could lock him up. So instead Ian thought of a plan.

“Shut up!” Ian barked, cutting off Alora’s apology. “I baint want yer pity! Ye tell that bitch ifn she be so happy spreadin her legs fer any Aldan man she can go ahead n fuck em all. I be done with her, tell her I hate her n hope she dies birthin that brat. N ye yer majesty can join her fer all I care.”

He saw Alora’s aura recoil in horror and shock as he turned away. Will cried out at hearing Ian shout, crying out for him and reaching for him.

“What of your children?” Alora asked softly. “Will and Matt.”

“Tell that bitch she can keep em,” Ian said his back to Alora, his heart twisting to hear Will crying out for him. “I baint care anymore.”

“I will,” Alora said. “But I think it better she think you dead rather than the man that hated her so.”

Ian didn’t answer her, afraid to reveal his true emotions. He started to walk away when Glen’s hand on his arm stopped him.

:Ian! Wait and listen…:

“Nowt!” Ian said shaking Glen’s hand off his arm. He couldn’t involve Glen in this, he had caused the young man enough grief, he had finally found a safe place in the Court of Dreams. If he involved Glen in his plan it could ruin his life again. “I baint ever want ta see that bitch again. Ye can ifn ye like, but I baint ever want ta see her again.”

He saw Glen’s heart break and he waved his hands trying to grab Ian again. Ian shook him off, shoving him away with enough force to land Glen on his rump. He didn’t bother to stay and apologize; he marched off with Rork hot on his heels.

“Ian wait,” Rork said but Ian wouldn’t stop. Rork pulled him to a stop in the great hall of the palace, Ian’s boots skidding on the fine marble. “Ian ya rock head I said wait. Ya aint just run away like this.”

“Shut up!” Ian shouted and then put his hand on Rork’s arm. Gathering his will he tried pushing words out through his mind to Rork’s, much like how Glen talked. :I have a plan, play along:

Ian saw Rork’s aura ripple, he had reached him but Rork couldn’t answer in the same manor.

“A pl…”

Ian put a finger to Rork’s mouth and tapped his ear. Someone might be listening, Ian could sense many people around them, any could be a spy.

“What are ya going to do now then Ian?” Rork asked.

“Get drunk,” Ian answered. “N then ye n me can hit the hay.”

“Aye aye,” Rork said slinging an arm over Ian’s shoulder and pulling him along. “Trust a Hyrian ta coggin how ta get tipsy. N how ta hit the hay.”

They walked out of the palace arm-in-arm, Ian’s arms feeling empty without Will. He pushed the feeling aside, he would see him, Matt, and Bailey soon if his plan went well. For now he needed to convince Alora that he hated Bailey.

As they left the palace Ian noticed a figure running towards the palace. The man slowed when he saw Ian and Rork, turning to meet them. He was of course Aldan, but other than that Ian could measure little else except the man was upset.

“You!” He shouted and Ian came to a halt, Rork letting him go so he could rest a hand on his knife. “You are Ian of Orna are you not?”

“Aye,” Ian said. “N ye?”

“I am Lord Ashel Roth Ai…”

Ian struck him in the face, his fist connecting with Ashel’s nose. The lordling fell on his ass, a cry of either surprise or pain escaping him.

“Better hope ye can find a healer fer yer nose,” Ian said. “Mine never set right.”

“Bastard,” Ashel gasped past the blood running down his face. “How dare you! I’ll have you locked up for this!”

“Lord Ashel,” another Aldan said hurrying forward to help Ashel to his feet. “Please forgive him; he is obviously upset over losing his wife.”

“Here as his advocate Basil?” Ashel said still holding his nose. “Well Alora has stated Bailey is my wife, there is nothing you can do here. This bastard is going to a cell for striking an Aldan Lord and trying to steal my wife.”

“Ye can have the bitch,” Ian said and Ashel turned to him, Ian seeing his aura boil with rage. Basil, whoever he was, looked hurt and shocked. “N go ahead n lock me up, ye’d only be doin me a favor as I was bout ta go crawl inta a bottle.”

Ashel’s aura was seething as he was obviously trying to decide what to do.

“Ashel let him go,” Basil said lowly. “He’ll be out cold in an hour from Aldan wine and miserable the next morning. I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near you or Bailey.”

“And I should trust you on that?” Ashel said.

“Obviously if they were to meet he would only hurt Bailey,” Basil said. “I’ll make sure he is gone tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Ashel said before he turned to Ian. “Be glad I am the victorious one here. If I see you again I’ll have you whipped.”

Ian only sneered at him as Ashel turned away to the palace in search of a healer. Ian turned back to Basil to see his aura showing his anger at Ian.

“I’d like to hit you myself,” Basil said. “But I’ll be satisfied with watching you get drunk. Follow me.”

Ian and Rork followed Basil away from the palace, down into the trees. Basil led them to a tavern just above the ground, a place frequented by farmers and other working class people. It was the end of the day, twilight ruling the trees. Aldan were crowding into the tavern and they were just able to get a table to themselves. Unlike most taverns Ian had been to this one smelled of herbs and cooking food which he took to mean it was very clean.

They were served Aldan wine, cheese, spring strawberries, and white bread.

“Eat up,” Basil said. “The tab is on me.”

“Baint plan on eattin,” Ian said taking a cup of the wine and drinking. He nearly dropped the cup, the wine was strong. It would take only a few cups to get him passed out drunk.

“No you just plan on getting drunk that’s right,” Basil said sourly. “You know when Bailey spoke of you she feared you would never forgive her for choosing duty over you. She has been eaten alive by the guilt of this, and you clearly just turned your back on her.”

Ian still couldn’t be sure if they had been followed, it was hard for him to tell people apart unless he was familiar with them. Still there was a general noise of conversation in the room, not as loud as some taverns but loud enough that Ian didn’t fear the risk of being overheard.

“How good be an Aldan’s hearin?” Ian asked lowly, Basil seemed surprised which meant he heard him.

“I heard you but I doubt anyone else in the room did,” Basil answered puzzled.

“Good, someun might o followed us out o the palace,” Ian said. “Means Alora baint be entirely convinced by my act.”

“Act?” Basil gasped, his aura shifting in surprise.

“Well might be she just being cautiousome cause ya called her niece a bitch ja,” Rork said. “Ya taint cogging o that did ya smarty pants.”

“Aye well I might o o’er acted on that part,” Ian said. “Can ye blame me? I baint be entirely happy bout this.”

“Do you hate Bailey?” Basil asked.

“I be hurt aye,” Ian said. “But nowt I baint hate her. What happened? N who be ye ta Bailey?”

“Let me explain,” Basil said lowly and proceeded to tell them about Bailey and Pepper’s arrival to Alma. Ian listened, digesting everything he heard and feeling his stomach cramp as the story went on. At the end he only wished he had hit Ashel more. And while he really wanted to see Bailey, part of him was afraid to face her. He knew it would hurt her to see him again, and he wasn’t sure how to react at all to the fact she had consented at first to Ashel. Her regrets afterwards only made it worse for him; it felt as if she had been raped.

Ian knew this would lie between them for a long time, and worse there was now a child to come of it. Doubts swarmed in his mind, the same doubts that had made him hesitate over going back for her after she had been sentenced to burn. Did he really love her enough to get over the fact another man had touched her? He took a deep drink from the wine, feeling its warmth flow through him.

“I hope part of your plan doesn’t truly involve getting drunk,” Basil said dryly.

“It baint,” Ian said. “But I needed that.”

“She is torn up with guilt over this,” Basil said forcefully. “She is in a lot of pain and only your forgiveness can alleviate that.”

“It baint be a matter o forgiveness,” Ian answered. “Cause it barely be her fault n I see that. She were tricked n even so as ye said she got so drunk she was senseless when he took her. N that be what hurts, ta ken I weren’t there ta…”

He choked on the words as he realized what hurt the most. She had to endure that pain without him and he had chosen to abandon her. She had been alone and in pain all this time, and what had he done?

“Ya be thicksome Ian,” Rork said and Ian turned to him surprised. “Taint ya said it afore? Ya understand her search now ta do the right thing, how duty can be more important than love. Damn man, ya both abandoned each other ta do yar duty ta aid others. Ya went in search o the song, n she tried ta birth Eileen. N now ya both be feeling guilty o’er those actions. Ya two been made far each other ja.”

Tears began sliding down his cheeks as he realized Rork was right. Ian buried his face in his arms and began to weep brokenly. Rork put an arm over his shoulders, but the gesture only made Ian weep more. It was some time before he recovered enough to sit up and wipe his eyes.

“Thank ye Rork,” Ian said hoarsely.

“Ya welcome,” Rork said. “Now let us in on yar plan ja.”

“It be sketchy,” Ian admitted. “Actually all it really be were ta pretend ta be angry, go get drunk, en then kidnap Bailey in the night.”

“Leave the details to me,” Basil said. “I know this city like the back of my hand. You want to take her tonight?”

“I baint be sure,” Ian answered. “They’ll be on guard until I be gone. But ifn I leave the city it’ll be harder ta get back in baint it?”

“Maybe not,” Basil said. “If you take your horses and leave them out in the forest you can sneak back in on foot. Can you do what Bailey does? Stepping sideways.”

“Nowt but I can ask the gnomes fer help,” Ian answered. “They can cover tracks n hide us when we hold still in bushes n stuff.”

“That should work,” Basil said nodding. “Then tomorrow I think you should ride out of the city south, circle around in the forest and leave the horses to the north west of the city. After we get Bailey me and Rork can ride away to the south and leave a false trail.”

“What if ye be captured?” Ian asked worried.

“I’m a noble of the Odell house,” Basil said with a shrug. “Alora will lock me up but won’t harm me or Rork.”

“An Aldan goal taint sound too bad ta me,” Rork said. “Could be a lot worse.”

“N what ifn we be followed out o the city?” Ian asked.

“They shouldn’t follow you more than a league,” Basil said. “After that you can disappear, you’d have a few days head start before Alora realizes you turned. I admit it is a risk but so is this whole plan.”

Ian nodded a sour taste in his mouth. The hardest part of this plan was Ian knew it would tear Bailey apart. Alora was probably telling her right now what Ian had said. Hopefully Glen would be there to soften the blow. He reached for his cup again and took another mouthful of the heady wine.

“Drink seriously,” Basil said lowly. “It will be more convincing if you actually get drunk. I’ll send some watered wine over to help cushion the blow and arrange a room for you here. I’m going to leave to begin setting things up. We’ll meet again at Absalom’s stone five days from now.”

“Thank ye,” Ian said and Basil nodded.

“I’ve had enough,” Basil said loudly as he stood. “I can’t listen to you anymore. Go and pickle your brain then.”

He stood and stormed out of the tavern, pausing only to whisper to the serving maid.

“Sos now we get drunk?” Rork asked and Ian nodded. Getting drunk on Aldan wine, even watered Aldan wine, proved an easy task. Ian rarely got drunk; when he did Bailey had said he was a happy drunk. Now he just mopped over his cup feeling low. He didn’t need to act depressed or hurt, his thoughts on Bailey jumbling in his heart like broken glass.

Ian quickly lost track of time and how much he drank. He hadn’t gotten drunk since he lost his sight, and realized quickly that his second sight blurred until everything became muddled colors around him. Tipsy and drunk Rork led Ian up to the room Basil had gotten them. He was so drunk it took him some time to realize that Rork was stripping them both of their clothes.

“Rork, wait,” Ian said.

“Shh, an Aldan followed us up here,” Rork said whispering in his ear. “He be listening in the next room ja.”

Ian couldn’t think straight and only nodded then, letting Rork continue. The rest went by in a blur, Rork doing the most making Ian think he wasn’t as drunk as Ian. The last thing Ian remembered was Rork pulling him to the bed.

Ian woke to a blinding headache and a dry mouth. Rork lay curled around him, his legs wrapped in Ian’s and arms around Ian’s chest. Rork’s head rested on Ian’s shoulder, his hair down out of his top knot. They were both naked which reminded Ian what went on last night to some extent. Groaning Ian sat up only to have his head swim forcing him to rest it in his hands.

“Ifn ya gonna be sick do it in the pot,” Rork groaned next to him.

“I won’t,” Ian said stubbornly.

“I didn’t bugger ya,” Rork said and Ian turned to him. His senses were raw, things still a bit blurry and unfocused. Yet even he could see Rork’s pain. “Ya were really drunk Ian, well sos was I but I have the head far it. Ya taint need ta feel guilty bout this.”

Ian looked away, thinking of Bailey. How had she felt the morning after her wedding to Ashel?

“At least ye be a friend,” Ian said lowly.

“A friend wouldn’t have sucked ya off,” Rork said sitting up and swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “A friend wouldn’t have taken advantage o ya when ya were hurtsome. A friend wouldn’t be happy it happened n want ta get ya drunk sos he could do it again.”  

“Rork, ye be the un feelin guilty baint ye?” Ian said.

“I taint be yar friend Ian,” Rork said. “Taint ya coggin that? I wanna be yar lover nawt yar friend.”

“I ken that n I be sorry Rork,” Ian said. “I love Bailey.”

“Why?” Rork asked. “She hurt ya, she slept with another man, she taint deserve ya Ian.”

“I ken n ye ken it baint erase what I feel fer her,” Ian said, feeling for once that gentle joy that Bailey inspired in him free of all the hurt he felt last night. “Ifn I could I would go inta her arms right now.”

The desire to do just that was overwhelming. He hadn’t seen her, been with her, in months and he didn’t realize how much he missed her until just then. He had been fighting the feeling of loss all this time and now so close to her and yet so far was breaking his will to burry that feeling.

Rork turned to him and Ian felt his hand stroke his cheek.

“Taint the same is it?” Rork asked. “It taint be her hand.”

“Nowt, n ifn ya ken anything o love Rork ya would understand,” Ian said. “I ken she hurt me, but I want ta be with her. I be afraid we baint be like we were afore, n I want everything I had back.”

“Ya will,” Rork said his fingers falling away. “Ya’ll will be even more closesome after this ja. I cogging cause ya want it sos bad.”

Ian nodded and Rork turned to start dressing. Ian realized with a cold wash of fear that they had been talking in normal tones in the silent morning. He raised his senses, though it made his headache worse, but he could no longer sense their spy.

“Rork, ye ken ifn our follower still be about?” Ian asked.

“It be midmorning,” Rork answered. “Heard him get up early, but when we didn’t rise he left bout half a mark ago. Probably giving his report while we still laze about.”

“En we should get goin,” Ian said eagerly but Rork shook his head.

“Naw we want him ta follow us out remember,” Rork said. “We want ta be seen leaving.”

“Right,” Ian said.

“He’ll be back by the time we’re up and fed,” Rork said. “Taint ken bout ya’ll but I need some o the hair o the dog what bit me.”

Ian chuckled, but the sound quickly died in his throat. They dressed with slow difficulty and by the time they got down to the tavern it was mostly empty. The normal patrons were probably all at work now, only a few old men sat chatting over their pipes. They ate a light breakfast of strawberries, oat bars, and watered wine that was mostly water. Ian felt only marginally better after the food, but their spy had returned while they ate.

Ian had the feeling the man knew they were aware of him and that they were also aware of this. So he made no more effort of hiding himself, yet no effort to talk to them either. Ian decided to just ignore him as they left the tavern, Basil already having paid their fee. Rork led the way back to the stables, taking a slow steady pace.

“Ya should be glad ya be blind Ian,” Rork said. “It be a bright morning. My head’s killing me ja.”

Ian made no comment as his second sense was giving him vertigo and it was difficult holding his breakfast down. They arrived at the stables and collected their horses, Puzzle and Enbarr, leaving the others to the stable master with instructions to pass them on to the palace. Mounting up they rode south out of Alma, leaving the City Hidden in the Pines behind.

Ian kept reaching for Will and feeling a moment of panic before he remembered his son was no longer in his care. He felt hollow inside, his heart as heavy as a stone on his chest. He knew Bailey, Matt, and Will lay behind him and everything in him was screaming for him to turn back. He felt tears rising up and angrily dashed them away, afraid their spy would realize his remorse. He clung to the thought he would see them soon, his only lifeline in his despair.

Rork stopped and Ian raised his head, there was someone in the road before them. Ian was only guessing that the man before them on horseback was the same spy sent by Alora.

“I was hired by Ashel Roth Ai to kill you,” the man said simply startling them both. “He is sure that his wife is still in love with her old lover and so would rather see him dead.”

“Ya either be a bold assassin er ya changed yar mind rather quicksome,” Rork said darkly. “That little lordling not pay ya enough er something?”

“The Court of Dreams has had few assassins of late,” the man answered as he shrugged. “My profession is not an assassin though I was once a soldier. I learned a trick a long time ago of reading lips.”

Ian felt his blood go cold and his head pound.

“Well friend I taint coggin why ya be jabbering this all ta us,” Rork said. “Cause it only be making us wanna kill ye more.”

Ian felt the man’s attention turn to him, though he could not meet his eyes. His aura was shifting in a pattern he had not expected, gratitude.

“My name is Aren Croft,” he said simply and understanding came. “Thank you for finding what was left of my brother and returning him home. It pains us to see him so but my mother is filled with joy once more to care for him. I do not care what state he is in I am just glad he is alive. Thank you.”

He bowed to Ian in the saddle before turning his horse down a side path back to Alma.

“He won’t tattle on us will he?” Rork asked once he was gone.

“Nowt,” Ian answered knowing Aren was still within earshot for an Aldan. “If anything I hope he’ll report that we’re dead.”

“Aye,” Rork said nodding.

They turned off the road, Ian calling a gnome for guidance toward the northwest. Aren had been the one following them so they were now free of spies. Still Ian had the gnomes disguise their trail, something the gnomes seemed to delight in. Bailey had told him stories of how gnomes liked to twist trails and get travelers lost. It still happened, though since the spread of roads the gnomes’ mischief was lessened.

Ian thought of Bailey the entire time, going over everything Basil had told him. He felt hurt he had to admit, but he knew Bailey well enough to know she was hurting more than him. He thought of what he would say to her and what she would say to him. He was given nothing but time to brood. He began to doubt Alora was lying when she said Bailey no longer loved him, he began doubting his plan to save her.

They rode for three days north, skirting the city. The forest was empty of people, and they avoided the main roads easily in the forest. Then they turned back towards the city again, until they came to crossroads. Ian felt the power of this place, it was a place of partings.

“We’ll make camp here,” Rork said. “Then go meet Basil.”

Ian simply nodded as they made camp near the crossroads, out of sight but not far. They didn’t make a fire, eating bread and cheese for their diner that night. Once he finished eating Ian sat, elbows on knees, unable to sleep.

“Ya be cogging hard mate ja,” Rork said sadly. “Ya keep worrisome like that n ya will go bald.”

“I ken,” Ian said wearily. “I just be tryin ta think on what ta say ta her.”

“The truth,” Rork said. “Ya love her n forgive her.”

“I love her aye but I baint sure I forgive her,” Ian said.

“Aye,” Rork said nodding. “That takes some time though, so don’t worrisome if ya taint feel it now. Ya will work it out I cogging that.”

Ian nodded, knowing all of this already. He could already imagine ten years from now how this could be just a distant bump from long ago. But knowing thing would work out didn’t make the present any easier.

“Get some shut eye,” Rork said, “Ya gonna need it.”

Ian nodded and lay down, thinking he wasn’t going to get any sleep, yet he dropped off as soon as he lay down. Ian dreamed, his sight returning as his spirit wandered into the lines. As soon as his spirit entered the aether however, Ian sensed something stalking him. He ran, trying to shake the pursuit of the Crippled One.

Light ahead drew him like a moth to a flame, Ian running to the marker of Tir Aesclinn, the burning stone. He stopped there and turned to see the Crippled One no longer on his tail, safe for now from his hungry maw. His heart hammering Ian turned to the burning stone, and what lay beyond. He walked into the paths of Tir Aesclinn, never having imagined such a world of color and darkness. The light here was strange, like twilight with long shadows and vibrant colors. Yet the sky was full of things that should cast so much light as to be blinding, suns, moons, and stars in abundance.

Voices drew him and Ian reached the clearing where the Phay had gathered, the air charged with ire like lightning in a storm. The kings and queens of the Phay were gathered once more, most watching on as a handful stood in repose.

“You should not have crossed me Titania,” Oberon growled as he paced back and forth.

“Is that a threat Oberon?” Titania said in challenge.

“I will rip your wings out Titania,” Oberon said.

“And I will not stand for anymore fighting from either of you,” Mab said powerfully stepping between the two Phay. Her wings were flared out and only then did Ian see how substantial the gauzy wings really were. Her anger was one of righteousness, a heat to it far more powerful than the smoldering petty anger of the other two. “He of Many Lights,” Mab said turning to the forth Phay standing there.

Enfys turned to her with a bow and a smile, which Mad greeted with a glare, Titania with a roll of her eyes, and Oberon with a sneer.

“Don’t be crass Enfys,” Mab said crossly.

“I was being polite Mab,” Enfys said mildly.

“You were being cocky,” Titania said with disgust.

“Enfys I have no doubt that Oberon has reason to hate you,” Mab said. “I would however like a reason for this particular transgression.”

“That is none of your concern here Mab,” Oberon said obstinately. “This is between me and Enfys.”

“I make it my concern Oberon because you drew a blade in Dell of Forgotten Dreams,” Mab said. “You know the consequences of that act.”

Oberon looked like he had eaten a lemon, but he did not answer Mab’s accusations.

“Mab my dear I’m afraid I have no idea what has Oberon so riled,” Enfys said forlornly. “If I did I assuredly would make reprimands.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Oberon growled. “You know what this is about.”

“Really?” Enfys said. “What is it about?”

Oberon did not answer his eyes like burning embers as they bore into Enfys who seemed immune to his glare. Enfys seemed smug in the knowledge that Oberon was not willing to make the issue public.

“If you cannot provide a reason Oberon then you must accept the consequences of your actions and provide recompense to Enfys,” Mab said.

“I will not,” Oberon said frowning. “I am leaving with my people.”

“You cannot do that!” Titania said shocked. “The answer has not come! You doom the elves to wander the lines lost.”

“Not unless we have a guide,” Oberon said mildly.

“And who is this guide?” Enfys said and was again met with Oberon’s glare.

“None of your concern,” Oberon growled and turned away.

“Oberon!” Mab said with such command and volume that Ian woke, his spirit jarred from Tir Aesclinn. He lay a moment in his blind state, the world around him grainy gray darkness. Sighing he sat up and ran his hand through his hair. He heard a rustle and turned to perceive Rork waking near him, waking as Ian had woken.

“What hour iz it?” Rork asked groggily.

“Early,” Ian answered. “I can taste the dew in the air, but I can’t tell if the sun has risen yet. Not yet is my guess.”

“Ya be right n I wish ya weren’t,” Rork grumbled. “What’s got ya out bed sos early ja?”

Ian turned away to start making breakfast.

“Aye I cogging ya couldn’t sleep,” Rork said. “It be Bailey ja.”

“Nowt, it were a dream,” Ian answered as he poured water into a pot and stirred the coals of the fire. He called a few salamanders to hasten the process, the water heating as two salamanders coiled around the pot. “O the Phay inta Tir Aesclinn.”

“Ya wanna jaw bout it?” Rork asked and Ian paused to consider the offer.

“They were fighting,” Ian answered. “Which bodes ill for our efforts to aid them.”

“Sounds like they need a good kick in the pants then,” Rork said.

“Well I won’t be the un ta do it,” Ian answered. “It would have ta be someun powerful or they’ll just be ignored.”

“Bailey en?”

“I baint ken she has that kind o power,” Ian said. “Someun stronger en even her I bet.”

“The water’s boiling,” Rork said. Ian tossed in some rolled oats, salt, and a few dried apples to the mix. “I’ll saddle the horses so we can eat en then ride.”

“Aye,” Ian said as Rork turned away. “En Rork,” Ian said and Rork paused. “Thank ye.”

“Aye taint worrisome Ian, I’m here far ya,” Rork said. Ian was glad he couldn’t see his face, because telling by his aura the look would have haunted him for the rest of his life.

[beyondalicerp]

Name: Arielle Thorne Age: 20 Date of Birth: January 17th Gender: Nonbinary Sexuality: Bisexual Residence: Swampscott Occupation: Messenger Species: Weredove Affiliation: Rebellion Face Claim: Amandla Stenberg     Suggested: Arden Cho, Naomi Scott, Chloe Bennet, Ana de Armas                        Conrad Ricamora, Tyler Blackburn, Ezra Miller Played by: Ofir

The Messenger’s mother had a reputation for falling deeply and frequently in love, and so neither they nor their mother have ever known for certain who their father is or was. It wasn’t until late into their childhood when they first shifted that they discovered they were anything more than a regular Inhabitant. It took them a while to figure out their purpose in Wonderland. They wanted to do something that helped others, but the stigma against shapeshifters and magical creatures in general already present in Wonderland made their search difficult. They made use of being a messenger, but that job never had meaning until they met the Welcomer. After joining the Welcomer’s rebellion, the Messenger’s job began to involve more dangerous messages than they were prepared for, many of which could have them sentenced for treason, but they did their job well and they are quite well known to be the one to get the job done, no matter what stands in their way. 

The Fisherman’s Daughter: Quite a nosy thing, they are. The Messenger wonders if they are as nosy with their other patrons as they seem to be with them, what with their constant questioning about their life and travels. The Messenger doesn’t believe they have any ill-intent with their questioning, they seem too naive for that, if anything it’s just annoying at most. With their job becoming more secretive as of late, the Messenger mostly just skirts by the questions with simple nods and one-word answers to keep the bartender appeased. As long as their questions don’t get too intrusive, the Messenger doesn’t mind humoring them, at least for as long as they’ll serve them drinks.

The Hatter’s Apprentice: The Messenger once knew the Apprentice in their childhood; they’re not sure if they would exactly call themselves “friends”, they weren’t very close growing up, but the Messenger did always appreciate their company once in a while. As of late, however, the Messenger has the Apprentice being a bit... peculiar around them. They’re frequently catching them right before they head off to work or right when they get home. They’re starting to wonder if the Apprentice might be watching them when they’re not looking, and if they are, how much have they seen?

The Welcomer: The Messenger fully believes their life did not have much purpose until the Welcomer found them. Delivering letters all over Wonderland, while useful, felt superficial as no one ever really sent messages of grand importance. The Welcomer helped them find value in their job and in themself after they joined their cause, now serving as their messenger between them and their allies across Wonderland. The Messenger truly admires the Welcomer, not just for leading the rebellion, but for their kindness and their dedication to helping others. The Messenger doesn’t know where they’d be without the Welcomer, but they know they’re a better person because of them.

The Messenger is currently TAKEN.

Before The Shift

Arielle could never make sense of the quickness with which their mother fell deeply in love, but it was not something they had initially questioned. By age seven, Arielle had lost track of the men they had been encouraged to call “father.” Still, most men were kind. It was her mother who proved to be too mercurial, her enthusiasm for each relationship phasing out as soon as the honeymoon phase had ended. Arielle couldn’t really figure out why until she was just a little bit older. What she learned was this: her mother craved a sense of adventure and newness, she loved the chase of it all, and she did not know what to do with stability once she had it. It would explain why she liked to move around often, why she got tired of each new trade she tried, why she insisted on seeing the world through rose-colored glasses and resisted everything that threatened to shatter them. In short, her mother liked to free-fall, never thinking about what would happen once she landed.

Arielle adapted by bringing stability to their life whatever way they could. They tried to shut their emotions down in approaching a relationship, not wanting to adapt their mother’s foolhardiness. They tried to keep at hobbies longer after they grew bored. They tried to remember facts and situations exactly as they were. They kept journals of their life, writing down each detail exactly as they remembered it the first time, refusing to note a change in their thought without careful tracking of how they got there. They taught themself a steady determination that their mother couldn’t.

The dullness they invited into their life often instilled into Arielle a sense of meaningless. They never bonded with any paternal figure, thinking that her mother would ditch him as soon as she got bored. They stuck out boring odd jobs to bring in cash that their mother wasted. They held themselves steady until they were old enough into a place of their own – age seventeen, to be specific. What they failed to predict was the sudden change to occur in their life, and they were hardly prepared for the questions should a change would raise.

The First Change

The first change came as an unwelcome surprise. They could not understand, at first, why their organs shifted inside their being, why the world around suddenly seemed to grow, why they could not stop the strange changes seemingly taking over. But in any case, they found themself in the body of a dove, surrounded by their own clothes in a messy pile on the floor.

Worse off, no one told them how to cope, and the King’s ban on inherited magic made them too fearful to ask. What made it worse was the number of questions they had.

Why did the King ban inherited magic? What if many uses of magic - uses that could land a person in prison - were pure accidents? How many others lived in secret, and how many inhabitants were eager to spy and report for the Crimson King? These weren’t questions she had considered before, since her own mother was a regular Inhabitant and, to the best of their knowledge, none of the men she picked ever displayed magical abilities.

And Arielle thought puberty was bad.

For most of this early period, Arielle tried to restrict their shifts, only mastering their abilities in private. Each shift got easier and easier and, after some time, it became second nature. They knew how to think and speak with the brain and mouth of a bird just as they could with those of a human. Still, their ease with the shifts did not assuage with the loneliness that followed.

For a moment, Arielle understood why their mother was so quick to fall, but unlike her, Arielle thought herself knowledgeable and steady enough to take flight.

To Fly, To Fall

The first time Arielle fell hard for someone was when, during flight, a gush of wind had pushed her right into the bedroom of a girl her age. Woosh, and then splat went Arielle onto the hard tile floor, the shock of the impact sending them into a quick transformation. They barely had enough time to cover their body with a bed-sheet before the girl caught them wide-eyed and red-faced.

Luckily for Arielle, the girl was also a late-blooming shapeshifter. Eloise, her name was. A mousy thing with a high pitched laugh, she somehow managed to light a spark within the typically avoidant Arielle. The first day they met, Eloise had given Arielle a quick change of clothes and let them on their way, on the assumption that they would never see each other again. Then, Arielle found her way back. Again. And again. And again. Again she would find her way back, whether it be through a window purposely left open, or straight through the front door, passing herself off as a door-to-door salesgirl of flowers.

Over time, they developed a relationship. Sometimes Eloise would shift into a mouse, and Arielle a dove, and they would take flight. The secrecy of their acts gave them a rush they got from nothing else. Then, around this time, Arielle took up the job as a messenger, sending letters they never opened themselves. Not a fun, meaningful job, but they were good at it. It helped that they could simply fly to their destinations. Not that their bosses or clients knew about that. Sometimes their journeys left them away from Eloise for weeks at a time. When they back, though, they always returned with a gift. And as for what Eloise could give, her companionship was enough.

For all Arielle saw of this world, they could not predict the day they waited and waited on the rail of Eloise’s balcony, only for her to never show. At first, they took this as a rejection. Then, they took this as a reason to worry. So, they scoured Eloise’s room for any sign of where she could be. They took apart drawers, checked every nook and cranny, and pressed their feet against floorboards for anything Eloise kept hidden.

But, it seemed there was little sign of her. They went through the house, looking for the typical signs of life in each room, and found nothing. They ventured through the entire neighborhood, asking residents if they had seen a tall, mousy girl with a shy smile and a tendency to fidget with shaky fingers. They asked and asked until a shopkeep had quickly and quietly ushered them in and told them of recent, underground raids against magic users.

Then, in a pained voice, the shopkeep told Arielle that Eloise was among the raided, and Arielle promised themself this: that they would be far more careful than Eloise had, that they would not love so strongly, so as to protect themself from pain, that they would remove all doubt of their own anger toward the Crimson regime, and they would make Eloise’s disappearance (and later, Arielle found out, death) mean something.

Welcome The Messenger

In their search for meaning, they unwittingly crossed paths with the Welcomer, who saw potential in them. It happened when Arielle moved to Swampscott and carried out some deliveries there. At first, they did not deliver anything particularly dangerous from the Welcomer. They simply thought they were in for a change of scenery. But, unbeknownst to Arielle, the Welcomer started to send rebellion-related messages through them. Arielle went for a little while delivering these messages without knowing their content, and through this, they unwittingly learned the best ways to operate in secret.

The Welcomer taught them how to find meaning in their messages. Arielle learned to value the knowledge they picked up along their paths, to value the mystery of an unopened letter, to watch for the expression on each recipient’s face when they received a pretty little envelope. Arielle found meaning in other things, too. They found a certain contentment in being surrounded by fellow magical beings, all of whom partook in magic secretly. They derived a little something about learning of the curious Wanderers, what with their strange stories and technology. More importantly, they found solace in the Welcomer himself. He offered a stability that Arielle had not known in their youth, and Arielle is getting a little used to having a paternal figure around.

Arielle supposed they surprised the Welcomer a little when they started asking questions about his goings-on. After all, they were not supposed to find out. They were supposed to send letters without question, and be able to quickly fly away if things got nasty. But, a delivery had gone wrong. A recipient was not where he was supposed to be and Arielle, suddenly reminded of Eloise’s disappearance, had decided to read the letter. Questions burned Arielle’s mind, Arielle burned the letter, and knowledge burned through the sense of security Arielle once had.

Where security vanished, meaning took its place, and Arielle told the Welcomer they werein.