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iouinotes · 7 months

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Heroic Betrayal | Luke Castellan (part 3)

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS SERIES AND THE BOOKS SPOILERS

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: dark!character, betrayal, angst

summary: You meet Luke again in battle. But nothing turns out the way either of you expect.

a/n: The third part, yayyy! Somehow I still can't figure out the end. But as long as no one complains, I won't stop :))

I'm breathing heavily, my feet hurt and I'm struggling to stand properly on my legs. The wound on my arm hurts, I can feel the blood running down my arms. My shirt is soaked red. I feel the strong urge to cry and I'm amazed that I can still breathe. Everything around me is spinning, but the fear keeps me running.

I know he's ahead of me. That I'm chasing after him. His golden sword reflects shadows in our surroundings. Any person with enough sense would hide.

But Im done hiding. I want to fight.

Maybe I'm a coward for admitting this now, but I was hoping my friends would be by my side.

My friends…I hope they're okay. I lost sight of them almost immediately when Krono's troops stormed out of the forest and attacked the camp. I only had time to listen to Annabeth's orders and the next thing I knew, I was in the center of the fight.

And then there was Luke.

He was standing there just like he did a few days ago when he showed up here at camp and begged me to come with him. But the idea of being back on that ship scared me more than anything. The thought of being near the Titan.

Close to him who betrayed me.

He doesn't really look any different now, perhaps more angry and murderous than usual. It's enough to wake me from my trance. Because the look in his eyes is darker than the deepest night and it sends a cold shiver down my spine. I'm not running away anymore, I tell myself at that moment.

But just as I'm about to go in his direction, he disappears behind a couple of monsters. I pay little attention to that, only trying to find him again.

I can't let him get away.

So I follow his tracks, stab some of his warriors and make them disappear into smoke. I'm so angry that my jaw is grinding, because I'm clenching my teeth so hard. Then I see his figure behind some trees and suddenly I'm filled with energy. I draw my sword with newfound strength and run towards him.

Until my lungs feel like they're on fire. And yet I don't slow down. I forget how deep I'm going into the forest. I slowly lose my sense of direction as to where I am, even though this has always been our place.

Hidden behind trees, bushes and naiads. Now the branches are on fire, smoke is in the air and there are no friendly forest dwellers to be seen. I stop when I see a flash of golden light to my left. Hope rises in me that Percy has found me.

But as soon as I see his dark hair, everything tightens inside me. I stop and raise my sword protectively in front of me.

"Stop running away! I thought you wanted to fight?" He leans his shoulder casually against a tree, his smile making me seethe with anger.

"Princess, I'm not running away. I was just shielding you from the others." My pulse quickens, adrenaline coursing through me. My grip on the weapon tightens.

"Then what are you waiting for? Come and get me!" I see him shake his head.

"Are you so naive that you seriously believe that? You're not here to be killed." My eyebrows draw together and I shift my weight uncomfortably.

"Then why?"

"I'm doing you a favor. I don't want you to watch your friends walk to their certain deaths." Silence spreads over us. Then his voice cuts through.

"Face it, you're doomed. I'll give you one last chance. Join me."

I hate myself for it, but I hesitate. And I hate it even more that he notices.

,,You friends will never consider it, they will lose. You cant imagine how weak they are compared to Kronos. And I dont-" for a moment, he seems to be uncertain. He presses his lips together and walks a step towards me.

"I would hate myself for eternity, if I allow myself to lose you."

My heart hurts, it's beating in my chest as if it wanted to show me how much I miss him. But could I listen to my heart, even though my mind tells me the opposite?

“How can I trust you again? How can we ever go back to where we where? You and me, we are not the same as before.“ My voice seems drained, my desperation seeks through my facade.

I try not to show him, how I feel. How much I wish for us to get back together. Him telling me jokes, us laughing. Kissing in the sun, after we won Capture the Flag. Playing hide and seek in the woods, hugging and touching each other.

Being in love.

“Dont you want a future with me? Imagine a home, a safe place. Just for us. Against the world.“ He makes it seem so easy. As if the world we know, wouldnt be falling apart in this moment.

“So whats the plan? Fighting against your friends and family? Being Kronos slave?“ He‘s silent for a moment.

“You were always my only family. I only need you by my side.“

„I dont believe you. You are the one who lied to me. I wouldnt lie to you. I would have never left you in the first place.“

"I can't do it without you." I scrunch my eyebrows, how dare he ignores my accusations?

"What are you talking about?" He hesitates.

"I wont be here much longer. Well-thats not really true. My body will still exists, but I wont be myself anymore."

"Dont try to mess with me! You said yourself, you will fight in the war."

"I will, darling. But you wont know me."

"I-I dont understand." He's just an arm's length away from me. His gaze is distant.

"Kronos will awake. He needs a body, so his soul or whatever he has, can dive into. Sort of a reborn-kind-of-thing. And it will be me."

I'm so shocked that I'm unable to react. Hundreds of thoughts stream through my head, the thought of losing him - it's unbearable.

"You wont." His eyes shift from the floor to my face. There is astonishment hidden in his eyes.

"Exuse me?" This time I take the final step closer to him. His face is right in front of mine, both of our swords are drawn at our sides.

"I swear on the Ryver Styx, I wont ever, as long as I live, let you trade yourself to that thing and let you- the real you, die in the process. You just wont." My wild expression is reflected in his pupils. Silence surounds us, then a small, genuine smile that I haven't seen in months spreads across his face.

As if he had all the time in this world, he leans down and stops himself in front of my lips. It's the first time since he left camp that he silently asked me for permission.

,,I love being in love with you." His whispering voice ghosts over me.

I close my eyes and connect our lips. A sweet, slow kiss ensues, his fingers hold my chin up to him.

How could I ever resist him?

When he pulls away, he presses two quick kisses to the corners of my mouth. He calmly pushes a strand of hair out of my face, our eyes watching each other.

"I wish the gods didn't exist. I wish no one existed but us."

As I'm about to answer, I see golden curls behind his back. Percy's appearance surprises me so much that I forget Luke's words for a moment.

I pull myself together as soon as his voice sounds again. "I know you don't see it that way. But if Kronos destroys the gods, if there is a chance to reshape the world, maybe then we could have a chance at peace. Dont you think?"

There is so much hope in his eyes that I would finally believe him, join him in his unattainable dreams.

When my eyes meet Percy's, his look tells me exactly one thing: Distract him.

I love Luke. But I have put my faith in Percy.

So I nod slowly. Silently agreeing with Percy and making it seems, that I agree with Luke. I see how Luke's entire body straighten, his eyes glow with a new light.

He seems happy.

I almost fall in love with him again.

"I knew you would understand when the time is right. I knew it! God, I love you so much." His hands cup my cheeks, he kisses me. So intense that I forget my fears and doubts. I forget that Percy is standing behind him.

Luke's adoring look is the last thing I register before Riptide crashes over his head and the boy I love falls unconscious to the ground.

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

"He is dangerous." Annabeth's voice is the only thing that can be heard clearly in the room. Murmurs, footsteps and rustling are like a rushing background noise. My head hurts.

It's been almost two hours since we were in the forest. I tried to catch Luke's body so he wouldn't hit his head, as he fell to the ground. I didn't really succeed, because now he has a small cut on his forehead.

Percy and Beckendorf helped me bring him to our destroyed camp. But not in the infirmary, instead they dropped him in a cell. I protested, but no one wanted to give him the opportunity to be free and possibly escape.

That's why they locked the door and the sight almost broke my heart. Silena said I shouldn't be here, shouldn't see him like that. But I couldn't leave him alone.

The only time I left was to go to the infirmary, so I could get a first aid kit to treat his wound. Then I had a hard time convincing Percy to let me into his cell.

Now I'm sitting on the floor with his head in my lap, brushing his hair out of his face. They are longer and darker, his face looks older and more exhausted. And I treated the wound on his forehead as best I could, after all, I'm not a child of Apollo.

The scar on his cheek glows faintly red in the light, and I carefully run my fingers over it. Just like I always did when he was stressed. I try to ignore the judgmental looks from others. The withering looks “How can she be with the traitor?" But none of them dare to talk to me about it.

Only Percy looks at me warily, as if I wasn't much older and he was the one who needed to protect me. He really is like a brother to me.

When he also notices the looks of the others and therefore my discomfort, he gestures with his hand to leave us alone. Even if he stays there. It's quiet for a moment.

"You can go to Annabeth. I'll be fine." I look at him, trying to make it clear to him that I'm fine. But he doesn't look convinced.

"He'll be angry when he wakes up. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be in there." I sigh, my eyes returning to Lukes sleeping face.

"I think it's sweet that you care. But Luke wouldn't-" I stop in my sentence. For a moment I am in doubt. Luke would be angry, of course he would be. And after everything, can I be sure he won't hurt me? This question would never have been considered before. But now?

He never physically hurt me. But he lied to me, betrayed me. Kidnapped and gaslighted me, basically tried to force me to stay with him. He wasn't the same anymore. So how could I be sure?

"He won't let anyone talk to him when he's in here alone. He's too stubborn for that. I'm the only one he would listen to. And even of that I'm not sure." Percy's eyebrows furrow. He looks not much more relieved than he was a minute ago.

"Well, now I'm definitely convinced." His sarcasm makes me smile. And I think that's enough to calm him down.

"I'm sure Annabeth is looking for you right now. Please go, Percy. Let me pretend I have everything under control for a moment." He hesitates, but nodds quietly. His fading footsteps are the last thing I hear before I feel sudden movements in my lap.

My eyes dart towards him. A painful groan escapes his throat, the sound is enough to make my heart beat faster.

Without thinking, I stroke his hair and scratch his head. He always liked this tender gesture. I hope it's enough to temper his anger, which I know is to expect in time.

As his eyes slowly open, I see the disorientation in them. Then he realises what happend. When he sees me, I make out different emotions in the way he looks at me. Fury, sadness, pain.

"I'm sorry." My voice is just a whisper in the silence. As he tries to sit up, I see his strength pulling at him and his face turning pale.

"Wait- you still need to rest. Here" I take the water bottle that Percy put in front of me and carefully hold it to his mouth. He slowly drinks a few sips.

When he's done, I put the bottle back to the side. I look at him, waiting, while my hand remains still.

"You are here." It's not what I expected to hear from him.

I meet his gaze, clearly confused.

"You never liked waking up alone." My voice sounds breathless, an old memory haunts his face.

"Still, I would have thought you would be standing next to Percy, laughing. If you finally have the opportunity to lock me up, I mean." His voice drips with hostility at the mention of Percy, the look in his eyes dark. But at least he doesn't try to stand up again for now.

"I would never do that." He knows it's true.

His eyes look away, his cheek turning to his right side to gaze through the bars. Light falls into the cell.

"You tricked me." It's not an accusation, just a statement.

"I guess we're even." He stays silent when I answer.

"You will not hold me prisoner." I just look at him confused. I don't know how to answer. Does he think the cell is just an unpleasant stay until he can sleep in his cabin again?

Since he doesn't say anything more, I do the same. A few minutes pass, both of us dont know what to say, then distant footsteps are heard and I see Percy again. As sweet as he naturally is, he first looks at me to see if everything is alright. Then his gaze turns to Luke and when he realizes he's awake, his eyes harden. But I see the sadness in them.

After all, Luke was his friend too.

"Percy." Luke's voice sounds malicious, as if he would like to get up and destroy the bars himself to fight Percy.

"Luke." Percy's voice is neutral. Only his facial expression reveals what he feels. He is angry.

The two boys stare at each other and I feel myself getting nervous, so I clear my throat to get their attention.

"What's the plan? Can we get out?" I choose my words carefully. So that Percy knows what I mean and Luke knows that I don't just want to get out myself.

Luke sits up and I see how much effort it takes him. I let him, because I also know that he doesn't want my help in front of Percy. Guys.

Percy hesitates. He also tries to choose his words carefully.

"I don't think we can just let him walk around here-" his voice is interrupted by Luke.

"You won't keep me prisoner in here, Percy. Anyone who has a problem with me should raise their sword against me."

Percy's eyebrows shoot up. “Then good luck competing against the whole camp. I'm sorry, but I cant let you out."

Luke's withering look makes me quickly stand next to him. I try to calmly put my hand on his arm. But faster than I can register, he has me trapped in his arms and is holding my own dagger to my throat. I didn't even notice he stole it from me.

The pressure is so tight that it's hard for me to breathe. I'm frozen. Percy also looks like he's just been struck by lightning.

"Let. Me. Out." I feel my eyes start to water.

"Luke-" but his grip only tightens and my voice falls silent. I feel his eyes stare daggers at Percy's.

"Now." Before I can stop Percy, he takes out the key. But unlike Luke, Percy's gaze is on me. Concern is shown in his eyes.

The door opens and I feel Luke's grip weaken. I see it as my only chance. I step on Luke's foot as hard as I can, pushing him away, while the dagger meets my skin, a suprised grunt escaping him.

I run towards the door and before I can even say anything, Im out and Percy pushes it shut again.

Luke's angry voice mixes with the rapid heartbeat in my ears. I feel Percy's hands on my shoulders and him trying to make eye contact with me.

But all I can do is look at Luke. Seeing his eyes blinded with anger, it scares me.

Before he can say anything else, I turn around and run out of the building.

Please comment how you would like the story to end! Thanks <333

#x reader #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percy pjo #fanfic #love #betrayal

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crownmemes · 1 year

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Pretentious & Poetic Sentences, Vol. 1

(Pretentious sentences from various sources for muses that like to speak in grandiose sentences. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Opinions are the enemy of justice and the curse of the modern world."

"We trust to our peril, but to not is to be alone."

"The ship in port is the safer one but that's not the reason it was made."

"Some say our dreams are a distant road down which our hearts would like to go."

"There's a purity in evil."

"Life neuters us all. "

"Only in death does duty end."

"It is necessary to get behind someone before you can stab them in the back."

"Your sins crawl on you like fleas."

"You remind me of what I could've been."

"The greatest deception is to the self."

"If a coward dies a thousand times, then there's a graveyard in my head."

"Old sins cast long shadows."

"You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it."

"If I resembled what you loved most, would you grant me the intimacy I desire from you?"

"If you don't offload trauma, it will come to you as a demon."

"We cannot escape the destiny imprinted in our genetic code, whether foisted on us by nature or fostered there by nurture."

"What is a god but the cattle's name for farmer? What is heaven but the gilded door of the abattoir?"

"There's a fine line between calculation and deceit."

"The secrets are the heart are buried deep. Only time will reveal how deeply they are sewn."

"To the bird with no flight, the skies don’t ever offer respite."

"You need to taste death before you can live."

"I knew you'd looked into the black hole of nothingness the first time I saw you."

"All knowledge is power, and to share it is to lose it."

"It is forbidden to kill, therefore all murderers are punished... Unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets."

"Lie to the entire world, lie to your god, but don't lie to yourself."

"You only give up your power when you don't think you have any."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #pretentious;#assorted;

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bringingtherain · 9 months

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Hello everybody, I wanted to share a little (modern) Linked Universe AU that have been living rent free in my head for months. It’s based on a reddit story (that I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it still very interesting anyway). If you have some time, please give it a little read <3

Also, I’m sorry for my English :’)

Legend and Ravio met at college. It was now the end of finals week, so of course they wanted to celebrate. Not only that, Legend was going to – finally- ask Ravio out. Like, c’mon, he was not a coward, why had he hesitated so much?!

They are walking together on campus, passing by Twilight and Wild who were playing a game, Twilight waved but Legend was way to nervous to notice. Finally, he looks at Ravio and thinks “this is it”. He opens his mouth, feels a sudden intense pain in his head, and falls like a sack of potatoes.

He wakes up maybe 10 seconds later, with Ravio desperately calling his name. To his left, he sees Wild looking worried, and Twilight looking mortified. Before he can even think of saying anything, Twilight starts apologizing profusely. Turns out he and Wild were playing football, and he accidentally hit Legend right in the head with the ball. Legend sits, shakes his head, and comes to the conclusion that besides a strong headache, he is okay, despite Ravio’s protests that he should go to the campus nurse.

He didn’t asked Ravio out that night. Legend is paranoiac at best, and that ball in the head felt maybe like a –literal- sign from above that confessing to Ravio wasn’t the best idea. Not only that, Hilda, Ravio’s sister, always looked at him like she was silently but strongly judging if Legend deserved to be so close to her dear brother; and Shadow, Ravio’s best friend, looked like he had already left the judgment phase behind, and the sentence was that he hated Legend guts. Maybe they were right.

So Legend tried to move on. After another year and a half he finally finished college, and in a bout of luck, he won first prize at his favorite music store: a one month vacation to a isolated and beautiful paradisiacal island; Koholint. What better way to celebrate the conclusion of his college life? Ravio accompanied him to the ship, and looked sad to see him go. Legend calmed him, it’s only a month. He will be back soon. Ravio hugged him, and that hug lingered for perhaps more than it should, but no one really wanted to let it go. But then, way too soon for Legend’s tastes, it was time to board the ship. It’s okay, Legend thought.

It’s just a month.

As he left the ship and looked around, Legend felt like he was walking right into a dream. Koholint island was way too perfect to be true. Even though he wasn’t the biggest fan of summer, the heat in his skin felt gentle, and he felt all the tension leave his shoulders.

And there, he met her. A beautiful singing voice called for him, and he couldn’t stop himself from talking to her.

Marin was beautiful. A long red hair that moved like sea waves around her shoulders, shiny brown eyes and a happy, gentle smile. Her voice was so surreal and sweet that Legend would often think that Marin was actually a mermaid who just got tired of living on the ocean. He called her attention by using his trusted ocarina to play the song she was singing, and she was overjoyed to have his company.

And just like that, one month passed. The ship was there, waiting for him. He didn’t want to go.

So he didn’t.

It didn’t take long for them to start officially dating. Also didn’t take long for Legend to ask for her hand. It was everything so perfect, why would he waste his time?

As he kissed his now wife on their wedding day, he got himself thinking that if this was a dream then he never wanted to wake up.

Three years later, the world welcomed a little baby boy. His little baby boy. As Legend took his son in his arms for the first time, he asked himself in wonder how could he feel such intense love so quickly. He would die for this boy’s happiness if needed. The touch of Marin’s hand on his brought him back from his dazed state. He looked at her, his eyes full of tears. He never felt so complete in his whole life.

The years passed quickly, but the days extended for what seemed like years. Each precious memory burned forever in his brain. His little boy first steps. Marin’s delicious food after a long day of work. The days spent playing at the beach. The cold nights cuddling by the fireplace. The day his little baby boy –now a 19 year old man- left the island to pursue his college dreams. Every night falling to sleep to her smiling face, and everyday waking up to her gentle voice.

He was walking home, slow but steady. His walking cane on one hand and flowers for his wife on the other. Today was their 50 year anniversary , and his son was going to visit. As he was walking, a seagull passed dangerously close to him, and he accompanied it with his eyes. When his eyes guided him to the top of Koholint’s tallest mountain, Legend stopped.

And he looked.

There was something wrong. He couldn’t for the life of him tell what, but there was something deeply wrong. He kept looking, hoping that this would somehow make the gears in his brains start to move, but it didn’t. He felt the answer at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t translate it into words. So he looked.

When he felt a hand on his, he finally moved his eyes from the top of the mountain, and looked at his wife, worry visible in her eyes. She asked him what was wrong. Why was he taking so long to go back home. That’s when Legend discovered that apparently he stayed at the same place, looking at the top of the mountain for hours. 3 hours to be exact. It haven’t felt like more than five minutes to him. It must be his age, he thought after some time, so he went home with his beloved. The mountain stand taller behind him.

That night, after a long celebration and the news that he was going to be a grandad, Legend stayed lying down on his bed, unable to sleep. It was that damned mountain fault. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Before Legend could notice, he was already up and out of the house. And soon he was at the same place of that afternoon, looking at the top of the mountain.

Time got a little blurry after that. His family came to see him, increasingly more worried about his well being. But he couldn’t leave. He needed to find out what was wrong.

One day, as he felt Marin desperately beg for him to go home, to just look at her, to please, please stop giving it attention, it finally hit him. He couldn’t understand how it took him so long to see something so surreal.

There, at the top of Koholint’s tallest mountain, sit a gigantic egg.

He turn his eyes to Marin, ready to ask if she was seeing the same thing he is. That couldn’t have been there this whole time, right? As he looks in Marin’s direction, he sees nothing.

Marin is gone.

Did she leave? He was sure he had listened to her voice right now, like white noise. He went home. There was no sign of his wife or his son. Worried, he decided to look around.

It wasn’t just his family, he found no one. The island was empty.

That’s when he heard a distant voice. Hope bloomed in his heart that maybe it was Marin, but as soon as he listened close, he realized it wasn’t. However, it was familiar. A voice he thought he had long forgotten.

“Ravio?”

And he woke up.

He had his head nested between Ravio’s tights, who desperately called his name. To his left, he sees Wild looking worried, and Twilight looking mortified. Panic arises at the sudden sensation of dejavu, but before he can even think of saying anything, Twilight starts apologizing profusely. Turns out he and Wild were playing football, and he accidentally hit Legend right in the head with the ball. No, he thinks. Nonononono. This already happened, this is already long in the past.

Where’s Marin?

He tries to get up, but is hit by a wave of nausea and falls back into Ravio’s arms. Legend looks at him, despair thick in his voice.

“Where’s Marin?”

Ravio looks at him, worried, and asks “Who?” Ravio then asks Twilight for help getting Legend up. He needs a doctor. It’s possible he have a concussion and might be delirious. Legend tries to stop them, but he is feeling way too sick and way too scared to do much. Twilight is too strong for him to be able to escape, so he just go limp, crying.

“Where’s Marin?” He asks again, but no one answers him.

“Where’s Marin?”

-----------

So yeah, Legend suffered a concussion that made he vividly fee like he lived his whole life in a place that doesn’t exist with people that aren’t real. I mean, the idea of living your whole life and then suddenly waking up in the past, in a body way to young for you, feels terrifying. Like, if this happened to you, could you just let it go? Would you be able to have a relationship without thinking that you’re cheating somehow? Are your feelings real if the person you have feelings for isn’t? Idk, I think it’s pretty fucked up. If you have any questions, ask away, because I really don’t know how this would end lol

#linked universe #lu legend #lu ravio #lu marin #have anyone else read that reddit post?#I usually want to deal only with happy stories but....#and I didn't even touched on how all that will make ravio feel...#rambling

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leiawritesstories · 11 months

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PART FOUR: APRIL (PART II)

surprise!!! another update in the same month 😂 to my dear @house-of-galathynius i'm so sorry for being impulsive, please yell at me in the doc comments

also @backtobl4ck this one's all because of you :)) ily maria

Word count: 5.2k (oops...)

Warnings: swearing, violent thoughts, mentions of death, Sam, flirting disguised as business meetings, horniness, slight NSFW hehe

enjoy!!

MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

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Rowan was three seconds away from committing homicide.

He turned the note over and over in his hands–the forensics team had found no trace of fingerprints on the paper, the box, or the little plastic evidence bag inside the box–simultaneously in awe of the Shadow Assassin’s skills and furious that there was no trace of anyone getting anywhere close to the police station within the last twenty-four hours on the cameras. She was smart, he’d give her credit for that. She knew what she was doing, and she had the balls to leave him a fucking note.

A gift from the shadows.

Despite his valiant efforts, a dry laugh escaped at the cleverness. When the little box had been discovered, every cop in the station was in a flutter over what the hell the note meant. It had taken Rowan all of a minute to read the note, look at the “gift” in the small evidence bag, and put the pieces together.

Somehow managing to avoid any kind of detection, Celaena Godsdamned Sardothien had slipped into Orynth PD headquarters and left him a little gift that was as much a taunt as it was a forward leap in his case.

Rowan had immediately sent the evidence to forensics for identification. It had taken them a few hours longer than usual to identify the person from whom the detached fingernails had come, probably because whoever had removed them had sanitized them with hot water and bleach, but they’d managed to match DNA. The name was Archer Finn; a quick internet search revealed Archer Finn to be the owner and operator of a shipping company called Finn’s Imports, LLC, as well as a man frequently featured in both the news and the tabloids for his womanizing lifestyle. Some of the nastier rumors whispered that he was involved in a smuggling ring, but Rowan hadn’t found any evidence to back up that particular theory.

What he had found, though, was absolutely no trace of Archer Finn, save the sterilized, detached fingernails sitting on his desk in a goddamn evidence bag. According to all sources, Finn had last been seen entering his shipping offices down in the industrial district early last evening. Security camera footage showed him entering the building, walking into his office, closing the door, and then…nothing. Well, not nothing–a few hours later, a man of Archer’s same height and build, wearing the same clothes, and with a similar physical appearance walked out of the office, but Rowan could tell from a close examination of the footage that the man was not Archer Finn. He’d scrutinized the camera footage, but he hadn’t been able to detect any loop or edited portion, and it was driving him fucking insane.

The only thing that would make sense if the footage was unedited was that there was another, unmonitored entrance to Finn’s office, and that whoever had taken the man (Sardothien, if he wasn’t mistaken) had used that one.

But when he arrived at the shipping offices of Finn’s Imports, LLC, with a search warrant in hand and conducted a thorough search of the premises, there was no additional entrance to Finn’s office. And if there was, it would have been awfully goddamn hard to use it, because the man’s office was on the third floor and directly against an exterior wall.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Cortland, but I can assure you it’s neither warranted nor grounded in reality.” Aelin’s patience was five seconds from snapping as she argued with Sam Cortland over the phone–because he was too much of a coward to argue face to face like a man. “Your company has been given more than ample time to complete this campaign.”

“And I’m only requesting one additional week,” Sam retorted. “You wouldn’t want a major advertising campaign for a new product launch to be anything less than perfect, would you, Ms. Galathynius?”

Breathe, Aelin. You can’t kill him yet. “According to the CEO of your company, Mr. Cortland, the campaign has been finalized and approved by him for two weeks, which means that your request for an extension is moot.”

He hadn’t expected her to know that little fact. “I–we–my signature isn’t yet on the final proofs, so it’s not finished yet.”

“Mr. Cortland.” Steel underlaid Aelin’s tone. Standing at her panoramic windows, she looked out over the downtown business district, drilling an unblinking stare at the high-rise building that held Cortland Advertising. “Whether you like it or not, this campaign is going public tomorrow morning. Your CEO and chief marketing officer have already signed off on it. You are nothing but the project manager, and you should congratulate yourself on a project well run. Or, you can whine and snivel at Daddy’s desk, hoping that he’ll let you drag your feet for another week because you don’t want the world to know that I own your company. Either way, the world is going to see this campaign in–” She glanced at her watch. “Fourteen hours, and you can either let your ego be inflated by the fact that this was your first major project for Galathynius, Inc., or you can cry over having to work for a woman.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a goddamn heartless bitch?” Sam sneered, hiding behind misogyny in a feeble attempt to disguise his shredded pride.

“I tell myself that very thing in the mirror every morning,” Aelin crooned sweetly.

“You–”

“I have a far more important call to take, so cheerio.” She hung up. Then, she tipped her head back, groaned, resettled herself, and crossed back over to her desk. It would be entirely unprofessional to block Sam’s contact from her business phone, so she left it as it was but turned off his ringtone.

Half a minute later, her intercom buzzed.

She suppressed a curse. “Yes?”

“Lieutenant Whitethorn is here, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Lillian.” Aelin took a short, controlled breath. “I’ll be out momentarily.”

“Of course.”

Aelin left her business phone on her desk, picked up her notepad, iPad, and a couple of pens, glanced in her small mirror to check that she didn’t look too irritated after arguing with Sam Snivelling Cortland for twenty minutes, and walked out of her office to find Rowan leaning easily against the wall of the hallway leading to her office.

A hint of a grin curved her lips. “I thought Gav’s men didn’t slouch.”

He pushed himself off the wall and straightened his spine to military stiffness. “Is this better, Captain Galathynius?”

She rolled her eyes at the title. “I certainly haven’t earned that title, Rowan. And I don’t mind you slouching a bit if it makes my employees less terrified to look at you. I half believe some of them are petrified that you’ll slap them in handcuffs for breathing in the wrong direction.”

“I’m not that scary,” he protested.

“Mhmm.” She swept her wry gaze over his all-black clothing, the shadow of a Kevlar vest evident beneath his shirt, the badge on his arm, the obvious physical strength of his frame. “You just have a frown permanently scratched into your face for no reason at all.”

His frown curled into a smirk. “Maybe other people irritate me for no reason at all.”

“Happens to me too.” She opened the library door for him. “I thought we could make this our meeting space, since it seemed to work so well last time.”

“An excellent idea.” He strolled in and sat himself in the same chair as before. “In another life, this would be a table at a nice restaurant, but we can save that.”

She settled herself into the chair opposite his and grinned. “Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn, are you implying that you’d ask me on a proper date?”

“I’d be an idiot not to.” Warmth rippled across his tan, chiseled face, though it was quickly followed by shadows. “If it weren’t for this damn investigation that’s still going bleeding nowhere.”

Whatever you do, don’t fucking laugh, Galathynius. “I’m sorry to hear that, Rowan.” She placed one hand on his forearm. “What can I do to help?”

He sighed heavily. “Someone else has gone missing, but unlike all the previous cases, this one hasn’t turned up yet–dead or alive.”

She furrowed her brows. “A businessperson, or someone of less…ah, character?”

“Are you familiar with Archer Finn?” He laid Archer’s professional profile photo on the table.

“Archer Finn,” she mused. “Hmm…oh, yes. Yes, I’ve known of him for a while, and I actually had a rather productive conversation with him at the gala.”

Rowan’s throat bobbed thickly at her mention of the gala. “What kind of conversation?”

“I’d been looking for another importer for the Galathynius products–you know, diversifying and not keeping all your eggs in one basket and all that–and he offered his company’s services. We discussed some terms, and we came to an agreement.”

He nodded, making notes in his pad. “Has Finn’s Imports shipped any of your deliveries yet?”

“Yes, they have made one delivery and there should be another…” She opened her iPad and swiped to her calendar. “On the twentieth, so five days from now.”

“Was it delivered on time?”

“A whole day early, even.” She smiled. “I’m quite pleased.”

“Have you ever noticed anything…I don’t know…off about Archer Finn?”

“Other than the fact that he’s notorious for sleeping his way through the city, not really.” She pursed her lips. “I can’t say I trust a womanizer, but so far, working with him has been beneficial, and I hope it will continue to be.”

Rowan cleared his throat, a bit awkwardly. “Um…about that…”

Aelin let her jaw go slack. “Please don’t tell me this is a repeat of our last meeting.”

“Archer Finn has been missing since the 10th,” Rowan said, quietly. “It’s not currently known where he is or whether he’s alive, but…there has been nothing, Aelin.”

Because my men took care of that. “He hasn’t been found on one of his ships?”

“Is he known to travel with his imports often?”

“Fairly often, yes. I remember him saying that he wanted to be in the Navy or the Marines so he could be at sea, but he didn’t qualify, so he turned to international shipping.”

“Hmm. We’ll keep trying that route.” He scribbled in his notes. “Aelin, I really don’t want to do this, but…well, you know we’ve been investigating a homicide that took place on one of your properties, and it’s protocol to, erm, show certain images to people who could be suspects.”

“Are you saying that I’m a potential suspect in a…in a…homicide?” The acting classes she’d taken as a random semester elective in college were certainly coming in handy.

“I’m not, but my colleagues insist.” Rowan tightened his jaw, internally fighting, and reached for a file folder that he’d brought with him. “I’m certain you can’t possibly be a suspect, but…protocol.”

She breathed deeply, twisting her ring around her right middle finger. “I understand.”

“Okay.” He flipped the file open and slid a series of images across the small table. Still photos of Cairn’s brutalized, dead face and body leapt up at her, the freshness of his torture and death evident in the official police photos.

Aelin blanched, her features paling, and recoiled from the table with wide eyes and trembling hands and legs. Don’t. Fucking. Think about smirking, Galathynius! “Is…is that…” She trailed off, pressing her shaking hands to her mouth.

Swiftly, Rowan whisked away the photos, hiding them back in the folder. “I’m so sorry I had to do that, Ae,” he murmured, reaching over and enveloping her shaking hands in his steady ones. “I was right–you can’t possibly be a suspect. Not only was your alibi airtight, but that reaction?” He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. “Even the most ruthless investigator could tell that you can’t stand the sight of death.”

“I…” She heaved a deep breath and shuddered. “Oh god. I don’t do well with blood.” A faint hint of mirth tugged at the corners of her lips. Sell the damn story. He might have already bought it, but sell it anyway. “My mother had hopes of me becoming a doctor, but I almost passed out when I fell off my trainer bike as a kid and saw my scraped knees.”

Rowan chuckled softly, a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I still shudder every time I walk onto a fresh scene.” He released her hands. “Ten years, and my initial reaction hasn’t changed.”

“I think it might make you inhuman if you could walk onto a homicide scene without flinching.” Raw honesty glimmered in her eyes–genuine honesty, because she really did believe it.

Because every new name she crossed off her list made another part of her humanity disappear.

Aelin had just walked out of a meeting with her sales department when her personal cell phone buzzed. Very few people had that number, and the ones who had it should know better than to contact her during work hours. Frowning, she pulled her phone from her pocket, prepared to send a scathing retort back to whoever had interrupted her, and stopped short when she saw Aedion’s name lighting up her screen with a simple text.

>>We need to talk.

Rather than text him back, she called.

He picked up right away. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, that’s what your text said.” She stepped into the library room and closed the door behind her. “What’s so urgent?”

“My current research.” His voice was tight. “Aelin, I need you to come to the lab. Today.”

“Today?” She stifled a colorful curse. “Aedion Ashryver, it’s two in the afternoon.”

“I’m aware of the time, Ae.” Papers rustled on his end of the phone. “I’m calling in my cousin privilege. I need you at the lab as soon as possible.”

She drew and released a controlled breath. “All right. I’m kind of pissed, but I’ll save it for when I get to the lab. Give me around thirty, forty minutes to rearrange my schedule and make the drive.”

“Okay.” His tone softened. “For what it’s worth, Ae, I really didn’t want to bother you midday.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, Aed.” She left the small meeting room and headed for her office. “Like I said, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Alright.” He hung up without a goodbye–classic Aedion.

She went into her office, tossed her phone in her handbag, buried her face in her hands, and released a muffled scream.

Fuck.

There were only a few reasons why he would summon her out of the blue, and none of them were anywhere close to good.

Thirty-eight minutes later, Aelin swept through the automated glass-and-steel doors of Aedion’s laboratory, still irritated that he’d called her over to that side of the city without explanation. Then again, he was her mad scientist cousin–and she wasn’t exactly famed for her explanations either–so she gave him some grace. She hung her raincoat in her usual locker, washed her hands thoroughly, pulled on a lab coat, goggles, and gloves, and strode through the second set of hydraulic doors.

“I’m here, Aedy!” she called as she crossed the gleaming tile floor. A blue-gloved hand waved at her from over in the corner. She followed the gesture to Aedion’s workstation, finding him hunched over a microscope like usual. “Nice to see you too, cousin darling,” she drawled.

“What the fuck is this, Aelin?” Aedion sat up, pushed a glass specimen square across the table, braced his gloved hands atop the clinically cold steel tabletop, and drilled a stare into her. “I need the truth. All of it.” He was rarely this terse; suddenly, the brusqueness of his request that she come to the labs coupled with his demand for truth made her pulse stutter in trepidation.

She glanced at the specimen. Steeled her features into careful, impassive neutrality. “It’s a synthetic skin substance that I am developing.”

He gaped. “A what?” She could see the gears turning in his mind, clicking pieces into place. “Synthetic…and just what do you intend to use this substance for, once it’s ready?”

“For making fingerprints–mine and other people’s–undetectable,” she admitted, quietly. “As much as I want to say it’s for medicine, I can’t. And as much as I want to say it works on a large scale, my research and development has already proven that it’s only viable on the small scale, nothing larger than a hand, if we’re lucky.”

“If we’re lucky?” Aedion repeated, incredulous. “Aelin, for god’s sake, please tell me this isn’t meant for what I suspect it’s meant for.”

“What do you suspect it’s meant for?” she asked, keeping her tone controlled, calm.

He met her gaze head-on. “You said it can make fingerprints undetectable. Therefore, although I’m fucking trying to not think so, I suspect it’s for the…” He cleared his throat. “The Boss.”

Aelin nodded once, tightly. “You’re correct.”

“God damn it, Ae!” Aedion swore viciously under his breath. “You–”

“It was never supposed to get out of my hands!” she interrupted. “I swear, Aed, I was running a controlled trial. It was on two of my fingers, shielded by my gloves. Only Nehemia and I–well, and you now–know about this experiment.”

“You were wearing–” Roughly, Aedion yanked off his gloves and raked his fingers through his hair, emotions and calculations flurrying across his face. “Aelin, I pulled this specimen from that fabric scrap I’ve been working on.” He didn’t voice the rest of his thought, the part they were both thinking. I pulled this specimen from the fabric scrap, so if you were wearing this material, you were wearing the fabric. Which means you were at the explosion site in January.

“Shit,” she hissed.

“Yeah. Shit,” he agreed. “You have people who can go gallivanting around sketchy warehouses at night, you know. It’s not your responsibility to do everything by yourself.” By the end of his mini tirade, he had softened a little, his concern for her shining through.

She sighed. “I know. It’s just…nobody knows about this experiment, Aed, and I’m keeping it that way until I’m confident the material is viable.” Hesitantly, she placed her hand atop his, relieved when he let her instead of yanking his hand away. “You know better than anyone that I won’t let any kind of details on my experiments get loose, and sometimes that means running trials on myself.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he grumbled, “but yes. I know.” He sighed and clasped her hand. “You do have a knack for spiking my blood pressure, Ae.”

“Someone has to,” she chuckled. “I have a proposition regarding this specimen, Aed.”

“Of course you do.”

“Rude!” She kicked his shin under the table. “It’s simple. I’ll take the material and destroy it, log the trial as unsuccessful, and keep all future trials contained to my private lab space. In return…” She paused and drew a deep breath, steadying herself. “In return, you turn over the fabric to PD and give them your full scientific explanation.”

Aedion’s brows shot up. “Ae, my full explanation means they’ll know it was developed by Gal Inc. They’ll start suspecting you’re behind something.”

“That’s a risk I have to be willing to take.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She held his gaze steadily despite her thundering pulse. “We’ve held off telling PD about the fabric for too long. I’ll leave it up to you to share the fact that my company is the developer, but it’s time to turn over the fabric specimen before they come with a warrant.”

Aedion exhaled, long and slow. “Alright. I accept your deal.” He took her hand again and shook it firmly. “Promise me you won’t be pissed when Whitethorn starts snooping around your beloved office complex, though.”

Aelin scoffed. “Whitethorn has been snooping around my office since February, Aed. He might get more crafty about it, but it won’t be new.”

Her cousin snorted a laugh. “That’s my cousin, always five steps ahead.”

Pocketing the small glass sample dish, Aelin flashed him a grin. “Being ahead of the game is a necessity when one is the only female CEO in the city.” She walked with Aedion to the prep room, and he stayed by her side as she discarded her gloves, goggles, and lab coat, washed up, and slipped her raincoat back on.

“You still owe me lunch this month, Ae,” he teased as she prepared to leave.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who keeps postponing. I’m not clearing any more Tuesday afternoons until you show up, Aedy.”

“Quit calling me that–oh, hey, Whitethorn!” Aedion’s demeanor switched from teasing to professional in seconds.

Aelin straightened, turned her attention to the entry doors, and fixed her sights on a very wet–fuck her, the way his clothes clung to his wet body– Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn as he stepped into the lab building and shuddered with disgust.

“It’s fuckin’ pouring out there–Aelin!” Clearly he hadn’t noticed her until then.

Coolly, she withdrew a collapsible umbrella from her designer leather mini tote. “Good thing I’m prepared for Orynth’s unpredictable spring.” She chuckled at his expression. “Pro tip, Lieutenant. Carry an umbrella from March through June. You never know when you’ll need the…protection.” With a sly wink, she strode through the automated glass doors, snapping her umbrella open as she walked out into the spring downpour, striding towards the silver SUV waiting for her.

Jaw hanging, Rowan gaped after Aelin’s retreating figure, reeling from both her completely inappropriate innuendo and the mere sight of her visiting Aedion Ashryver’s lab complex.

Aedion himself, who had witnessed the whole interaction, smothered his laugh with a cough. “Not that I don’t like seeing you all speechless, Whitethorn, but close your damn jaw before you attract flies.”

Flushed, Rowan snapped his jaw shut. “Good goddamn morning to you too, Ashryver,” he griped.

Aedion snickered. “Hurry up and wash your hands. I have info for you.”

“Took you long enough, Swabs.”

“Oh, shut it, tattoo boy.” Rowan grumbled a string of colorful curses under his breath as he followed Aedion into the prep room, put his jacket in a locker, washed up, and pulled on a visitor lab coat and a pair of latex gloves. “What kind of info?”

“The kind you want.” Aedion led Rowan into his office at the back of the lab complex and sat down at the seldom-used desk.

Rowan raised one pale eyebrow. “Why here instead of your usual station, Ashryver?”

“Confidentiality, dumbass. You’d think that as a cop, you’d remember that.”

“I’m not a goddamn cop, Swabs,” Rowan grunted.

Aedion snickered. “Aelin made me say it.”

“I should have known.” Rowan dropped into the chair opposite Aedion’s. “You two and your matching senses of humor.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all fun and games until she starts trying to tell me about her date nights.” The blonde scientist shuddered, then snapped a glare and a pointing finger onto Rowan. “If you date her, tattoo boy, you’re keeping your date nights fucking private.”

“Why the hell would I share all the depraved things I want to do to your cousin with you?”

Aedion groaned dramatically. “You’re the worst.”

“Others have said so.” Rowan flashed a grin. “Now spill the info, Swabs.”

“Calm down,” Aedion drawled. His jaw settled into a firm line, and he turned around, opened a small steel cabinet behind his desk, and extracted a small plastic evidence bag containing the scrap of black material Rowan had given him for analysis way back in January.

“Took you long enough,” Rowan deadpanned as Aedion placed the bag on top of the desk.

Aedion scoffed. “You signed up for it when you threw this insane shit at me.” He huffed a sigh and reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a stack of disorganized notes–his research and analysis of the specimen. “Do you want the intelligible version or the short version?”

“Short version first.”

“Basically, I don’t think I’d figure it out if I had unlimited time and resources.” Aedion blew out a frustrated breath; the man loathed inconclusive questions. “I ran every test I could think of and every test my staff could think of, and still…nothing conclusive. I’m about ready to declare it alien.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Rowan took the small sample bag and held it up to the light, scanning the scrap of synthetic black material. “Why would you call it alien?”

“It doesn’t match any substance I know of. The closest I’ve been able to come are vague partial resemblances to para-aramid, neoprene, Teflon, Kevlar, and fiberglass, but like…all at once? Or in some kind of combination?” He raked his hands through his hair, destroying his messy half-bun. “This might be the first time in my life that I’m genuinely goddamn stumped.”

“In any other context, I’d be impressed that something managed to stump you, Ashryver.” Rowan tucked the plastic bag into his small sling bag. “God. I wished for better news, but…I can work with this.”

“You can?”

Rowan nodded. “With your notes, I should be able to get it admitted as evidence, even though it’s an unknown substance. Sometimes, unknown substances can be key evidence–proof the criminal has been dabbling in undercover development or illegal experiments or anything like that.”

“Interesting.” Aedion stood. “Well then, I’m happy to have been able to help, even if I can’t decode that goddamn material for the life of me.”

“Swabs, if you can’t, nobody can.” Rowan clapped Aedion’s shoulder. “Keep me posted if you notice anything in the notes, yeah?”

“Of course.” The scientist walked Rowan back to the lab entrance and waved at him as he headed back out into the downpour. “See you next time, tattoo boy!”

Rowan waved back as he climbed into his truck and drove away from the lab complex. Foreign substance. His mind worked over the possibilities as he drove back to PD headquarters, and he didn’t even notice the uncharacteristic quiet in the bullpen until his hand was on the knob of his office door.

He turned. “What’s going o–oh shit.”

Commander Gavriel Ashryver, Terrasen Special Forces, folded his muscular arms across his barrel chest and drilled an unforgiving stare right between Rowan’s eyes. “Afternoon, Lieutenant.” His greeting oozed with sarcasm. “Thought I’d take a look at this evidence you claim to have.”

Fuck him to hell and back.

Rowan snapped to attention, sharply saluting his commander. “Please, step into my office, sir, and I’ll show you the evidence I’ve gathered.”

“Or you could also present it to your team.” Gav didn’t budge.

“That…yes, I suppose I could.” Get your fucking shit together, Whitethorn! He hadn’t been this shaky since he was a cadet in basic training. “Give me just a moment to collect what I have. Sir.” He practically stumbled into his office, slamming the door behind himself. Get a grip. Get a goddamn grip.

A moment later, his head cleared, and he pulled together the pieces of evidence–including the bag Aedion had just returned–and strode confidently into the bullpen. “Sir, team, as you know, we’ve been investigating an increasingly brutal series of homicides.” He gave a brief description of the investigation. “As of this afternoon, I have evidence that the perpetrator is potentially developing unknown or illegal substances.” He placed the small bag holding the scrap of fabric on the table. “Extensive forensic analysis has concluded that the substance is entirely foreign.”

Gav made a disinterested noise. “Who are your suspects?”

“Suspect, sir. Singular.” Rowan cleared his throat. “Celaena Sardothien, more widely known as the Shadow Assassin.”

“Why?” Fuck, Gav’s questions made him feel dumber than a grade-school boy standing for his first exams.

“Her connection to Arobynn Hamel, for one. Her record and reputation. The identical M. O. of all the victims follows her reputed pattern and preferences.” He snatched a quick breath, forcing his legs not to quiver. “And her purported motive of ‘cleansing the world of villains.’ Her words, not mine.”

Gasps and murmurs of speculation flurried through the bullpen. If Rowan had been any less terrified of what his commander was about to say, he might have been pleased with the team’s reactions.

Gav merely cocked his head, a gesture eerily similar to Aelin’s. “Are you implying you heard those words from Sardothien herself, Whitethorn?”

“No, sir. I heard them from a former associate of hers.”

“Former?”

“He became a victim shortly after our conversation.”

“I see.” Gav swept one last appraising gaze over the evidence Rowan had laid out–photographs, medical analysis, crime scene details, the fabric–stood, and shook Rowan’s hand. “Thank you for the update, Lieutenant. In the future, I’ll expect monthly updates, at minimum.”

“Understood, sir. Thank you for taking the time to come here.”

“It was my pleasure.” Gav’s smirk said that it had indeed been a pleasure to watch Rowan just about piss himself. He let Rowan walk him to the building’s doors before he stopped.

Rowan froze. “Sir?”

“One more thing, Whitethorn.” Steel glimmered in the commander’s hard stare. “If you hurt my niece, I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you. Slowly. With a plastic knife.”

“Uh–understood, sir!” Rowan snapped off a sharp salute.

As soon as his commander was through the doors, he slumped against the door and heaved a gasping breath. He was so completely fucked.

“I wouldn’t say completely fucked, Lieutenant,” Aelin hummed, eyeing him with a languorous, half-lidded stare from across the room.

Rowan’s grip tightened around the short glass of bourbon in his hand. “Why not?”

“Because if you were, you and I both would be breathing rather more heavily.” Innuendo laced her soft, sensual words.

“Is that so?” With deliberate slowness, he set his drink down and uncrossed his legs. “Don’t give me ideas you don’t want me to have, darling.”

“Who said anything about not wanting you?”

“Not me.” The humidity of the room seemed to be increasing with every whispered word and hitch of breath.

“Good.” Languidly, she stood and stretched her arms over her head, sliding off her oversized sweater in the process. “Because I’ve wanted you practically since the moment you walked into my gala, Lieutenant.”

“Good girl.” The words practically ripped out of his chest, and he was across the room in two long strides, burying one hand into her soft hair and angling her face up for a possessive, claiming kiss. She moaned huskily into his kiss, sending blood rushing to his cock, so he hoisted her over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry and strode down the hall and into his room, where he dumped her on the bed.

In an oddly familiar way, she leaned back against the pillows, sprawling herself out for him. “Like what you see, Rowan?”

“Fuck yes,” he practically growled, raking his burning gaze over the scraps of metallic gold lace artfully adorning her body. “I like you in gold, Ae.”

“I know.” Slowly, keeping her lust-drenched eyes on him, she untied the delicate ribbon at the front of her bra and let the lace fall open. “Close the door, love.”

He’d never closed a door faster in his goddamn life.

And when the door was safely closed and locked, he tore off her matching lacy little thong, spread her legs apart, and devoured her like she was his last meal.

And once again, he woke up the next morning with delicious, wicked images of Aelin Galathynius burning into his mind, as well as a leaking, throbbing erection that he took care of to the tune of those lovely, wicked images.

~~~ TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@sunshinebingo

@hiimheresworld

#my writing #until proven guilty #criminal/investigator au #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #aelin the crime boss au #investigator rowan #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #throne of glass #queen of shadows #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass au

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jeysecretive · 7 months

Text

So, this story was written on inspiration from those fics: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411574/chapters/72254715

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53701390

You also have to give credit to the music: https://youtu.be/IW-oVKrHupY?si=cPkeacsJjVej10id

And most importantly, who I wrote it for. @blu-ish , this is for you :)

Important Mention!!! This chapter mentions injuries and the use of weapons! Plus, this fic is kind of OC × canon. THE TITLE OF THE FIC IS EXPERIMENTAL!

The Dark Secrets

of the Deep Sea

Chapter One: The Hunt

Chapter two

Important text notes!:

🔵= Sonic

🔴= Shadow

🟣= Indirect characters

🟢= Omega

💓= Rouge

italic font + bold font = Capitan Ghost

Italic font + any color = Thoughts

Simple italic font = special moments

Bold font = special moments

"Oh, come on! Can't a marvellous captain like you take down such a lowly opponent!"

A bullet flew over the head of the hedgehog who said those words with a howl, nearly taking off his ear. But he was abruptly torn backwards by a red echidna, shouting "Look out!"

With an offended snort, the hedgehog struggled to roll to the other side of the deck to continue his taunts.

***

A storm was raging at sea. Huge waves were rising and crashing down, threatening to sink the two ships as they circled round each other in a frenzied dance.

But it was as if none of the captains of these ships paid any attention to the storm, and continued to fight. Though only one of them was really fighting, the other was manoeuvring between the shells and trying to strike at the most important parts of the enemy sailing ship.

"Go Omega, show them your strength!!!" A young hedgehog with dishevelled blue quills exclaimed in a fervour, slide across the boardwalk deck on one foot.

In a threat to his life, he was leaping all over the ship and teasing the men from the other vessel, as if he didn't notice the shells whistling over his head.

A huge mechanism made of ship's debris and covered in iron hoops threw up its arms in protest at the young man's frantic plea.

"We're running out of shells, sir! There's no way cap will allow us to waste them on this!"

"WHAT?! WE HAD PLENTY OF POWDER AND NUKES WHEN WE SAILED!!!"

"You wasted half your war supplies on a game of 'who can shoot the furthest', sir! AND IT'S NOT MY FAULT!!!"

"But you did enjoy being a part of-AAA!!!"

Hedgehog was grabbed from behind by the scruff of his neck and dragged towards the bilge. As he tried to fight off the strong hand squeezing his scruff, he heard a venomous hiss.

"Oh, come on, captain! I'm not done sending them curses yet!!! If you weren't mute, I swear you'd like it too!"

Instead of answering, the hedgehog was shoved sharply down the rickety stairs. The hatch cover slammed sharply over his head.

"Oh, well no! Sonic the Hedgehog is never left out!!!" Screamed the kid, trying to open his way out with his fist. But the boards stayed in place, proving that the hold door was securely locked from the outside.

"Hey! That's not fair! I want in too!" he wailed, hammering on the lid as hard as he could. But when he realised he couldn't get out that way, he sighed and put his hand on his hip, feeling the hilt of his blade with his hand.

***

The wind tore at his cloak as the captain of the brigantine called the "Black Wind" made his way to the helm.

The steering wheel was not occupied by the helmsman, for in times of battle or storms, the control of the ship was entrusted to the captain by default. No one could handle the "Wind" better than its master, and the crew understood that very well.

"HEY GHOST!!!" he heard a loud roar from the side of enemy frigate "STOP YOLOING AND FIGHT LIKE A TRUE FIGHTER, OTHERWISE THE WHOLE SEA WILL KNOW YOU'RE A COWARD!!!"

He snorted contemptuously upon hearing the voice. He had many names whispered by people all over the world, but this one specifically was used quite often. Threats didn't bother his hearing, it was far more important right now to fight off the enemy and keep the people on deck alive.

***

There wasn't a sea on this planet he hadn't sailed, and there wasn't a kingdom whose vessel he hadn't managed to plunder from. The fastest ship in the world belonged to him, and the captain of the "Wind" was elusive.

Despite the fact that he had only appeared on the open ocean about a year ago, the Cap had instantly become a household name as an outlaw.

He worked alone almost all the time, and getting on his ship as an employee was a big hit with the pirates.

No one knew his real name, but he was most often called "Ghost" or "Spirit". Not so often referred to by the simple name "Jack", but his rank and fame as an undead remained unchanged.

Rumours spread across the land that Captain Ghost possessed the most powerful spells in the world, thanks to which he always came out of any situation victorious and kept his ship intact. For this reason, he was constantly hunted, wanting to get the power he possessed. But no one had ever managed to learn his secrets. Perhaps it was the merit of clever magic tricks, but no one knew the exact reasons.

"Black Wind" and its master were covered with legends and tales like an old barque with clams, which made them even more desirable prey for all the pirates and sailors in the world. And perhaps that's the reason why this battle began.

***

Turning sharply to the left, the "Black Wind" nearly toppled over on its side. A hook with four iron claws was sharply thrust at the spot where the bow of the ship had just been. With a loud gurgle in the abyss, it attracted the attention of several crewmen.

"IT'S THE OTHER PIRATES! THEY'RE BOARDING US!!! Shrieked one of the crew. It was so obvious that the cap's tongue clucked unhappily.

But on the other hand he knew that ordinary people were not as observant as he was, so he continued to manoeuvre between the crests of the waves, shuddering unhappily at the rumble of thunder and the shouts of the people around him.

Something was wrong... He couldn't recognise what it was. The danger of being a prey to the waves did not let him forget about himself, and with all this it was necessary not to fall into the trap of "neighbours" and to keep an eye on the condition of "their own". But the sensation of a chill running between his vertebrae was so tightly lodged in the captain's soul that even now, fully absorbed in the battle, the alarm of unknown danger still tickled his nerves.

***

This crew he had taken to his ship a fortnight ago. The pirates, who introduced themselves as 'sea vagabonds', needed to cross the Sol Sea to meet up with, they said, old friends. Ghost knew that such explanations usually amounted to the phrase "it's none of your business," so he didn't go into detail.

These guys were generous with their pay and helped him with the ship, even though the cap was doing just fine on his own.

He hated being around people, and knew that anyone on his ship was a threat.

Despite their friendliness, all these pirates, including their blue-quilled leader, looked at him as dainty prey, and he could feel it.

A target for everyone he met, a target for the whole world.

But the money pouring faithfully into his coffers helped keep him in check.

Being dependent on bits of metal was horrible, but the brigantine needed immediate repair and maintenance after each adventure.

***

Which was why the captain now stood on deck, clutching the helm and trying to get away from the enemy. The pirates of the Wind, securely fastening themselves to the deck with ropes were monitoring the condition of the masts.

Another hook, this time on a longer rope, broke through the railing near the captain's cabin.

Damn it!

If the storm had cleared, he would have had no trouble rounding this frigate and disappearing into the distance.

At the thought that the ship might be captured, Ghost hissed quietly.

His passengers were favourable customers, and there was no desire to surrender into the hands of the enemy just yet.

At this time, a huge wave came up from behind, causing the Black Wind to tilt nose down. Feeling gravity pulling his body closer and closer to the edge of the ship, the captain used his secret weapon. His embossed-soled boots skidded across the deck, but the black cape wearer take some time to slamming them against each other. With a metallic click, sharp spikes came into view, catching tightly on the planks.

Tilting the helm as hard as he could, he tried to leap off the crest of the wave to keep the Wind from being turned into splinters.

But suddenly he was struck from behind, and Cap let go of the helm to avoid breaking it. Almost beside the helm was a hole from a cannon-ball.

At the same moment the sailboat tilted, losing control.

Realising that it was time to prepare for the worst, everyone on the Black Wind grabbed with all their might at the handrails and ropes by which they were tied to the main mast.

***

But a sudden cracking sound made everyone jump.

The sailboat suddenly levelled out and jerked sharply.

The ghost recognised the sound.

They were being hooked.

A thousand devils... Now we'd have to deal with three times as many problems.

Seconds later, hooks rained down on the deck in a hail, ripping boards and making holes in the hull.

A low growl rose in the captain's throat.

Glancing around, he realised that the storm was abruptly ceasing.

Of course it was the enchantments!

If he had more time to sleep, he would have been able to smell and dispel them.

But now...

It was a hopeless trap.

***

A huge frigate was approaching the Black Wind. The inscription on its bow said that the ship was called the Threat of the Seas.

Ghost recognised this ship.

It was worth preparing for the worst.

The pirates huddled together on the deck stared hopelessly at the approaching behemoth.

"We're screwed..." Rattled Omega in terror. The others murmured fearfully in agreement.

This ship's fame spoke for itself: sunk fleets of the Kingdom of Eggmanland, many robberies of Soleanna merchant ships, and a rumoured kinship with the leader of the Pirate Community.

Attacks on peaceful islands and robberies of other pirates were not uncommon either. All of their atrocities could be listed forever, but to all of this there was a loud rumour that since time immemorial the captain of the Thunder of the Seas had been stealing other pirates and killing them with a painful death. Mostly it was about captains, but occasionally people mentioned ordinary sailors as well.

Legends said that the leader of the Thunderstorm thus wants to gain power over all the seas and become the only pirate captain on the entire planet. He calls himself "Shadow", and this nickname has fully justified him.

For three hundred years, he has been considered the main threat of all seven seas. Invariably he led his crew, remaining a constant danger to every ship he encountered. All pirates who managed to see the captain with their own eyes and escape alive spoke of a black aura hovering around him.

Rumours crawled around the planet that Shadow had made a deal with the devil himself to stay forever young. In return, he would bring the blood of the pirates he killed.

No matter how embellished the legends were, Ghost knew that somehow some of these rumours were true.

He prepared himself for an unpleasant encounter.

***

A large sand-coloured bear landed on board. Its weight made the deck shake slightly. He raised his huge club on his shoulder, and swiftly headed towards the pirates.

But he failed to fulfil his intentions as something black and clearly unstoppable came at him from above.

The big man roared in fright and fell to the ground, trying to throw the unknown creature off him. But suddenly there was a strong blow on his neck, and the bear fell motionless to the ground. The club landed close by, half breaking through the boards.

"Bilge!" Ghost signalled, urging the crew of the Wind to wait out the attack in safety. But none of them moved.

It was strange.

The air around the captain thickened slightly.

That's it. That weird sense of danger... It wavered in him more and more, but Ghost realised that he had to fight off the enemy first.

He stepped behind the ledge so that the next attackers wouldn't see him before his time. Cap glimpsed a glimpse of his crew. They all looked pathetic and confused. Everything inside him cringed.

A very strange feeling was emanating from the entire group. No, not hypnosis or suggestion.... But some bitter, long familiar feeling to the captain. But now was not the time for such thoughts.

It would be easier if these oafs would at least obey a little. Especially Sonic! The important thing was that they didn't find him. Or at least kept alive. He's the only one who handles the money in this gang. Even if they manage to get away without casualties, this youngster will definitely be pissed that his safety wasn't preserved...

But the captain was no longer sure of his thoughts.

This was too strange behaviour for everyone, and knowing the hedgehog, he should have gotten out of the hold almost immediately after being imprisoned.

Too many weird details...

***

Three more pirates jumped out onto the deck. From the looks of it, they were much weaker than the first guest. But unlike him, they were not going to attack the ship so quickly.

Respectfully, they gave way to the one who was honoured and feared by the whole world.

Captain Shadow, in all his splendour, jumped from the outstretched cable onto the planks of the Black Wind's deck.

His hair looked like tar in the faded sunlight, and Ghost could see that it was more like Sonic's quills in texture. Concluding that Shadow was also a hedgehog, Cap continued to watch carefully.

Something dark was indeed emanating from the hedgehog... Something incomprehensible and tense. And somehow it was connected to the change that had occurred in the pirates.

A feeling consumed Ghost and he tensed up, preparing to attack and choosing the right moment.

Something was going to happen.

Shadow slowly made his way towards the pile of Wind pirates. Stopping five paces before the group, he looked them over from head to toe. Even from this uncomfortable angle, Ghost observed the cold menace that cast the dark Capitan eyes.

The small red arrows on his upper eyelids gave his gaze the sharpness of a dagger. The same lancet marks were also on the ebony quills, but they looked paler. These marks were like needles digging deeper and deeper into Captain Ghost's mind.

It was definitely for a reason.

Suddenly, in the silence that hung over the whole sea, the tar hedgehog asked:

"Where is your captain?"

***

Space froze in mid-air. Thoughts and guesses exploded in Ghost's mind, causing his head to blaze.

There was something in that hedgehog's tone. He wasn't... An order. It was a tone one might use to ask a question about the weather, but not--.

He knew the tone one used when addressing prisoners. This one on the other hand was as if Shadow and these pirates were--.

"Right behind you, sire!" Rang out a ringing, cheerful voice behind Ghost's back.

"...Sonic."

He turned around sharply.

The peephole of a carved pistol was staring directly into his forehead.

"Ah-hu-huh, mate! You shouldn't make a move like that, you don't want me to take your brain away, do you?" the blue hedgehog said, chuckling merrily.

This was it. The feeling that haunted him.

All these pirate invasions were just cheap scenery.

It couldn't be said that Ghost was surprised. Disappointment was the overriding feeling in his soul.

How typical.

"Okay, now you're going to have to put your hands up, Cap. I don't want you stabbing me with a dagger or anything" said the blue hedgehog with a smile, watching as the dark cloaked figure noiselessly followed his order. "Oh, I know what you're thinking, mate: "Ah, why did my crew betray me! Were they so intimidated that they refused to listen to me?", weren't they? Well, Cap, I'm afraid to disappoint you further, but this whole mess was a set-up from the start!"

A smug grin spread across the hedgehog's face.

That was the signal.

***

Ghost. A nickname given to him for disappearing from the scene of a crime without leaving a trace. But there's a second bottom may to have every nickname, isn't there?

The flesh thinned to dust, forcing his consciousness to move to the object of his desire in a throbbing lump. Time slowly flowed and wavered as if it were a thick fog.

The bullet had no sooner left the muzzle when Ghost dissipated into the air.

Sonic didn't know what had happened.

The one he had held at gunpoint a moment ago had dissolved without a trace.

A blow from behind caught Blue off guard. He went face-first to the ground.

The gun fell out of his hand and landed with a clatter on the boards, but was picked up at the same second by a black-gloved hand.

Lifting the hedgehog by the scruff of the neck like a cotton doll, Captain Ghost walked to the edge of the ledge where he had been sitting. In his hand a weapon glimmered coldly.

Eyes hidden beneath the hood caught the bright red pupils of Shadow. In the fleeting meeting of the dark hedgehog's gaze glittered a fury almost elusive to those around him, but vividly discernible to the experienced eye.

The ghost realised how much this blue hedgehog meant to the dark one.

"What do you want?" The ebony captain asked calmly. But there was clearly an embittered animal growl in his question.

A flapping of wings was heard from behind. No ordinary man in the world would have heard it, but Ghost's ears felt the rustling as clearly as the splashing of the sea around him. It was clear that the trap was slamming shut.

***

A duplet sounded.

Two shells fired simultaneously from different guns raced towards the people standing on the edge of the wooden ledge.

"To let a stray bullet take a young life would be too low. No matter how violently this boy saw the world, his blue quills should have felt the wind of the sea, not rot in a coffin. Many things he had yet to see and do.

One was to pierce the spine, heading straight for the heart, the other to enter the lung. Death in forty-two seconds from pain shock, cardiac arrest, fear and loss of breath.

There's a 48.6 per cent chance my body would be unharmed. The wind did its job.

Let's hope I can still get out of here.... My energy isn't that durable."

With a sharp whistle, the two small balls flashed past each other and flew far out to sea. And five metres away from the boardwalk, space warped for a moment.

***

Sonic's head snapped up sharply. He didn't realise why his feet were now on the ground. Everything had happened too fast even for his supersonic mind. The dark figure beside him swayed to the side, letting the blue one go.

But there was something clear that Sonic could sense.

Two capsules launched through his body. He could feel their coldness.

But at the same time, he realised he was in one piece. No wounds, no marks. Only an eerie sense of consequence.

"What are you...?" Whispered the hedgehog in confusion, but he was interrupted by a loud whistle.

The bat that had been behind them only a moment ago was now hovering about six metres to the left, clutching a pistol with a perplexed and angry expression. Sticking two fingers in her mouth, she let out another signal before rushing to the attack.

"She shouldn't be there..." flashed through Sonic's mind.

In the next couple of seconds, he was pushed away by a strong arm.

Instead of pointing the weapon at Blue hedgehog again, Ghost forcefully pushed him away from him along with Blue and dashed in the opposite direction.

At exactly the same moment, the enraged girl struck the boardwalk with force, intending to punch her opponent in the head.

And Sonic realised with horror that she wouldn't have stopped, even if his life was in Ghost's hands.

***

Once again, a gunshot rang out. This time the source of the sound was very close to Sonic. Looking up sharply, he saw Captain Shadow standing on one of the zadarn planks left of the captain's cabin.

A blue smoke was billowing from the gilded muzzle of his pistol, confirming that it was the weapon that was causing the noise.

Tracing the direction of the barrel, the hedgehog spotted a dark cloaked figure standing in a fighting stance. Literally three centimetres from his fingers, Sonic discerned a small, sparkling copper puddle.

"Macarter blood. Instantly sedates and paralyses the victim for several days. So they want to take me alive."

"Let me tear him apart, sire!" The bat yapped impatiently, keeping his eyes on his enemy.

"There's no need, Rouge. He's already shown us enough." The black urchin replied in a level tone "...You're a smart captain who knows how to stand up for his own skin," he turned to Ghost. "And I'm prepared to offer you a choice: either you surrender to me, and I'll spare your life if you can be of any use to me.... Or, " his eyes glittered dangerously, "You can die nobly by my bullet and be buried forever in the ocean. Don't worry, the mere movement of your finger will be enough for me to shoot you, so the trick you pulled before won't work. So, what's your answer, Cap?"

A deep silence hung around.

Time seemed to start flowing three times slower again, but this time it only stretched for Ghost alone.

The first sound that rang out in that visceral silence was Sonic's exclamation.

"Oh my god, Shadow, did I forget to tell you about--?"

That was enough.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic fic #my fic #sonic fanfic #my fanfic

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youknowwhoiamperiod · 6 days

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hello ariel!

would you tell me something mermaidghost? anything you want to talk about for the ship, something you’ve been dying to share but just haven’t had the chance yet, or a little detail you think should get more love. your choice!

xoxo sunnie (@fic-over-cannon)

sunnie sweetheart heyyy!! you've been on my mind all morning during english class since the topic this semester is film analysis hehe,, i'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this i've just been so busy preparing for uni :((( hope you've been well!!

aaaaaaa simon has been on my mind way too frequently this summer and i fear the brainrot is only getting deeper... ever since i discovered the cod franchise he's been my fav among the 141 mainly cause he reminded me so much of jason (specifically ak) but also not at all?? they're so similar in their critical thinking and acting but simultaneously could not be any more different? like. i don't know. and he's just so fascinating as a character it's dizzying. his persona just opens up so many possibilities and i thought my interest was tamed and moderate at first until aurore started cod posting... unleashing a beast within me....

mermaidghost is a ship that originally was intended to be very tragic. i'm a psychologist hired to work with the 141 studying their ennemies and targets but also keeping track of their mental state... and in all honesty simon's character is not just a walking red flag he's a literal siren sounding. trying to break through him for professional purposes is already a challenge and i don't think he'd necessarily be the worst person to date ever and beyond saving but i wanted to keep it realistic so knowing myself i really wouldn't be able to go on with someone like him. but somehow angel aurore once again broke my fourth wall and i decided to opt for a happy ending but we (he) have to work for it and it takes us a break and years apart to finally come around, making you question if it was truly worth it...

i think what i love the most about this ship and i told aurore about it is the implication that comes with it!!! i'm thinking of a man who's been turned to a weapon meant to destroy every human life he's ordered to. one who makes his adversaries wiggle in fear at the sight of his shadow because they won't live long enough to get a grasp of the brute of a man standing behind them. a silence broken by a bullet sounding is the last thing they hear as it pierces through them and a haze slowly falling upon their eyes before the light flickers out of them, a blurry ghost mask being the last picture they have of this world. a man who has been hardened by his past and time on earth over and over again erasing any type of fear from his dna, a foreign feeling that he's now overwhelmed with as the terror of falling for his best pal's little sister who's desperately trying to break into his psyche befalls upon him. a woman who's laying down her life for the belief of resurrecting broken human lives by the power of the brain and giving everybody a chance for a peaceful life. he's so tormented cause he doesn't deserve to be haunting the mind of someone who stands for everything he's been trained against and he doesn't deem it fair that i'm wasting my time on trying to get him to love me when he's the least deserving of affection and a coward who hides behind a mask, a ghost, the cage locking simon riley from this world. it's such a complex and delicate situation like he holds himself in the lowest standards and i'm just trying to get him out of his own head to realize that he's worth so much more...

anyway i've rambled a lot but he's truly been eating at my brain and i just love love love this type of dynamic... thank you sm for indulging me sunnie sweetheart mwah!!!!

#simon come home to me.......#simon.....#mermaidghost #141 stuffies #ariel’s waves #waves crash to the shore

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fictionalnormalcy · 1 year

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As AO3 is down, or at the very least glitchy, I’ll publish the story here, then reblog later once I’ve posted it on the alternate site.

Vigcup Week 2023 Day 1! @vigcup-week

Survivor: A Burning End

The sunlight was increasingly bright. Searing his eyelids. Even in closing his eyes there was still a blaring orange. He took a heavy breath, feeling pain in his side. He was sure he was laying against a solid surface, though feeling his shoulder hanging.

"Keep an eye out! We want to make sure the job got done properly." He heard him shout from the air.

Viggo forced his eyes to stay open, even if the sunlight caused him to squint. There was the urge to run coursing through him, but his body wasn't fulfilling the command. Wanting to stay still, reminding him of the other weight keeping him pinned. Sure, it would take a good effort to push away what had collapsed over him, but that would mean exposure.

Besides, being trapped in rubble was inevitable. That had been their strategy, explosion after explosion, devastation forcing them back. He'd retreated, presuming they would have thought Hunter Isle being the last place standing.

There was a sudden shuffle some ways to his left. He found strength enough to stiffen. And the slight movement must have been enough, because a dragon screech followed some seconds later. He recognized what it meant. There's someone there. The few shadows the fallen debris provided was taken away, and his hand began to slide behind his waist.

"Look where the coward has fallen. Oh but look Toothless, at least he's alive. Not like the rest of his men."

"It had to be you." He said in an exhausted whisper.

"And you're not looking so good." Hiccup responded.

"No, but that's what you wanted. This much destruction, to prevent anyone fighting back."

"Well it was a better alternative to what you wanted. Us struck down from the sky in an inferno, or impaled with arrows." He withdrew his sword. "We struck first."

"It was simply, business."

“Tell me Viggo. Your armies are fallen. You might be the last standing.”

“You can’t be sure of that-”

“That’s what my friends are looking for. How will the leader of the Dragon Hunters proceed?”

His fingers found the hilt as he saw Hiccup approach wielding his own weapon. A sword he knew held the ability to be lit aflame. A worthy weapon of his adversary, but he wasn't appreciating of where it could be embedded.

"You found the other base." He ground out.

"You abandoned your former stronghold. But dormancy was far too out of the question. Both of us were preparing to end this."

"It seems like you've won, doesn't it."

"It really does." Hiccup looked animatedly around the burning wreckage, his eyes easing shut and grinning as the cries of freed dragons pierced the sky. "But you're still breathing. Toothless and I didn't have the luxury of finding your charred corpse. No," The sword neared Viggo's throat, "we get you still capable of acting like you have the upper hand."

Viggo's eyes gazed at the sword, then they flicked back up to Hiccup.

"Do you wish it would have killed me?"

"Now you've left me with a dilemma. You know this wasn't your only base to fall, and how many Hunters you've lost. Perhaps the ones who've fled. We've reached this point of the game, Viggo. The Viking King is the one who has to give the final command to strike down his opponent. When he's sacrificed so many of his people for his own self-preservation."

Then he glanced slyly backward. Looking to the sky, then eyes skimming their surroundings. His head slowly eased back to watch the lying victim, and with a click of the hilt, the sword ignited.

"They don't have to know I found you like this." He said lowly.

Viggo had pressed his head back. Able to feel the heat of the flame inches from the skin of his face. The wooden remains he had been leaning against creaking from the pressure. If the sword was this close, there wasn't a point in begging for mercy. Yes he knew. Knew how many ships had fallen, how efforts to regain supplies had also been interrupted. Figured out too late how the Riders' decimation had been to close in on him.

And in this final stroke, a flamed sword in the hand of a teenager preparing to deliver a searing end.

#my fanfic #fanfic #vigcup week 2023 #vigcup week #rtte #hiccup haddock the third #viggo grimborn #toothless #graphic depictions of violence #hiccup's inferno #teen and up audiences #dark hiccup #dark dragon riders #vigcup #hiccup and murderous intentions #viggo at the end of his rope

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random-blep · 2 years

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genshin character head canons but it's only the characters I wanna talk about

Kaeya: he definitely has like muscle, but he's very good as dressing himself in a way that still gives him that figure. Also I think Kaeya has curly hair and for a while to fit in he straightened it causing a lot of hair damage. Personally I think of hoyo wasn't a coward his skin would be a lot darker, like no longer are the days where it looks like he just went to the mall for a tan. Secretly has a feral survival mode in his brain and if it is triggered there will be bloodshed.

Diluc: personally I enjoy his body type on game but ever since I have seen dad bod Diluc and I mean like the dad bod that has muscles not the beer gut dad bod I have been in love. I live for him having really unruly hair, like it takes dedication every morning to make him stop looking like a feral man. Another man that always knows how to dress to impress. I think he's pale as hell cause he cannot tan because all he does is burn. Ragnvindr genes may be strong but that does not mean their eyesight is, man's should be wearing glasses but refuses because then he would be any stereotypical guy pretending to not be a secret vigilante/hero/antihero. Jk they're just uncomfortable to him and annoying cause Kaeya teases him about his thick glasses then. Always ready to spill blood, just give him a reason and a target and he is doing it.

Fischl: personally I don't think of her much but I would enjoy her much more if she was shown more nerdy. Yes I saw that summer island thing where she fought her shadow self but I'm talking I wanna see her carrying a sketchbook or journal , I think her outfits should be less revealing and more covering. She needs to rock more of either a goth or alt style to fit her persona more. Also I think she might be one of the characters that would be pretty good if she was a little chubby.

Kazuha: somehow he is your adopted son, your emotional support little guy, and the plug all at once. I enjoy him very much. I know little about him but I feel like he is albino and I feel like his other senses are more heightened because his vision isn't the greatest so his other senses picked up the slack for him. That red streak in his hair is either a weird genetic anomaly for his bloodline or it's just a dyed streak. I'm leaning on the dyed aspect and each member of the Kaedehara family dyes a streak of their hair at some point. I heard this one head canon once and I love it, Kazuha used to have longer hair but as a criminal who was scheduled for execution his hair was cut short so it wouldn't get in the way when he would be beheaded and now he doesn't let it grow out because seeing himself with longer hair is hard because it reminds himself of his dead friend.

Thoma: listen yes he has basically become a house husband in a way. I do believe he does have lots of muscles under his uniform, he trains a lot and idk if you know this but house work is hard. This man is a people pleaser but he also believes sometimes you gotta learn things the hard way. I have no idea when Thoma came to Inazuma but I genuinely did see him and Diluc as friends when they were younger before he came to Inazuma. The whole blockage of Inazuma off from the rest of the world made sending letters home to his friends difficult but Thoma always found a way to make sure his letters made it on a ship. 100% believe when he got his vision Diluc was the first person to receive a letter with the news because they now had matching pyro visions.

Wanderer: he is small and thin and I can see him having no problem fitting in a box. I think he had long hair and kept his hair long until the fatui got their hands on him. They cut that away. Also think modifications added to him were basically torture but also I hold no doubts Dottore messed around with whatever stuff he's got inside of him. Added stuff removed stuff, all to see what would happened. And when his powers were unlocked he struggled with suppressing those cause he never had to do that before. I feel like I'm some ways he's super human like but there's just a few things that are odd about him. Like technically doesn't need to breathe, doesn't produce spit at all, isn't sure what's painful and how much pain he's supposed to deal with on his own or get medical attention for same with wounds, can dream but when he doesn't he is just in an unconscious void like he can think fully and he hates when it happens cause it's like he's floating in nothing. Also man has to have maintenance on his ball joints regularly so they don't get fucked up and he could totally remove a limb at any time. Funniest thing he ever did was slap childe with his own hand in place of slapping him with a glove.

Xiao: this guy right here. I feel like he either cuts his hair himself and doesn't look in a mirror or like he does it on impulse cause it's too long and in his way and Zhongli sees it later and is like "do you need help fixing your hair?" Cause it's not a great hair cut. I feel like Xiao had long hair once and now he never wants it again. This man could have so many talents if he let himself enjoy things like hobbies. Can drink alcohol but probably only ever does it in social situations and by that I mean he's with exactly one person and he trusts them and likes their company. Like all adepti, he can use powers without a vision, he only has his cause celestia was like "here" but he didn't even notice it and only keeps it on his person since he prefers to have a human form. He is the shortest anemo boy just barely being beaten out by the most precise tool to measure height in genshin. Having them stand in water and see who stands and who swims.

#I stared right at a picture of each characters face while writing these #I started to lose my train of thought so I had to stop #Genshin Impact #Genshin Impact head canons #Kaeya Alberich #Diluc Ragnvindr #Fischl #kaedehara kazuha #Thoma #Wanderer #Scaramouche #Kunikuzushi #Xiao #Adeptus Xiao #Could do more cause I have more characters I think about but I am not in me brain

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charlesdesvoeux · 5 months

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top five tertiary characters from amc's the terror

WARNING: we're about to enter my mind palace aka The Terror That Exists In My Head bc some of these guys get like. 3 lines tops so a lot of my thoughts on them are informed by fics and whatnot but here it goes

1. Charles Des Voeux: my namesake, my sewer gremlin, my beloved. he doesn't get a whole lot of screen time but when he does it is DAMNING. he's bitchy, he's racist, he's weird he's a weirdo he doesn't fit in have you ever seen him without his stupid hat on. the dezza that exists in my head is indeed a very weird guy whose mind astounds me; he thinks he's doing a very good job at coming off as Normal but he is NOT everybody knows he's weird and they're either kind of scared or think he's pathetic. extremely classist (son of a baronet, after all) but also he was shipped off to the navy bc his own family found him a little unsettling so he resents them too. of course he also has a psychosexual fixation on Dr. Stanley and the stuff he is into sex-wise more generally would probably freak an average 21st century person out so you can imagine how his 19th century peers saw him.

2. Tommy Armitage: my darling tortured boy. i am SO fascinated by hickey's assessment of him just before carnivale (while he is delusional in many aspects he is great at reading people imo); why is he so fixated on the marines, why does he "long for it" in hickey's words? does he feel degraded by his work as a steward, essentially a servant? does he feel like he's a coward and wearing that red coat would give him courage, would mean that he's amounted to something in his life? he also feeds Heather at carnivale and I think that speaks volumes to the extent that tozer probably trusted him. his devotion to Sol- AND IT IS THERE IN CANON IMO, YOU HAVE TO LOOK FOR IT A LITTLE BIT BUT IT IS THERE- is also so interesting to me. He followed that man into mutiny, into ruin, saw him become a shadow of himself but continued to love him.

3. Henry Le Vesconte: yeah, I'm gonna call him tertiary. he doesn't have a lot of lines or screentime; I think he tends to be more prominent in fics due to his station as lieutenant (and bc from episode 3 onwards he was the only surviving lieutenant of erebus) and also because HE IS A CHARACTER WITH POTENTIAL. dandy-ish and charming, with just a touch of the rake. to see him broken and desperate and ultimately mutinous, abandoning crozier to the mutineers and the ill to their fate in a desperate attempt to prolong their survival when he started off sooooo different is very intriguing to me. also post-abandoning-captain-quiet-mutiny-starvation-march nedconte makes me feral.

4. William Pilkington: he went down but he went down swinging (he's the one who dies with a wilhelm scream). did you know he interacts with Armitage at least 3 times in the show??? considering how little time they get this is HUGE trust me #tommypilks is real. I see him as a guy who was probably pretty convivial and fun to be around before... everything that went down, maybe even a little cocky but in an endearing kind of way. to see the desperation in his face as him and Tommy try to talk tozer into going back to the ships and as they face tuunbaq for the final time and thinking about what he used to be.... Jesus Christ. There's also this image:

which I think about every day. "he has that sadness in his eyes" etc. and his expression as crozier is brought to mutineer camp. also interesting!!!!

5. Edmund Hoar: considering that he has like. 2 lines I think about him a lot. The fact that he rose to the post of captain's steward in his early 20s is really impressive imo but what really made me go "hey WHO is this guy" was the carnivale soup moment:

that's him on the left, Samuel Crispe from Terror on the right. like wait a minute what is going on here. a steward kind of has to maintain a level of "propriety" and "respectability" bc they work closely with command but fuck it- its carnivale, our id is showing, and hoar's id told him to get into the soup with this other guy nearly naked. two bros chilling in a big pot less than 5 feet apart cuz they are gay. also in my mind he's like the bratty teenage daughter to bridgens' impossibly patient dad and that dynamic is very dear to me.

bonus: my "canon OCs" (people that existed historically but were not mentioned in the show) William Elphinstone Malcolm (jirv's best friend who in my show!version is in love with him and jirv is also in love with him but won't admit it) and Eleanor Franklin (Franklin's daughter by his first wife who in my show!version is essentially "what if cornelius hickey was a Poor Little Rich Girl lesbian")

#answered

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nualaofthefaerie · 2 years

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Lilies in the Shadows

Ship: Sandflower

Genre: Angst, Fluff, some suggestive scenes

Word count: 10.2k

Type: One-Shot

Summary: Morpheus lives after TKO AU

Tags: Morpheus is both a wet weep cat and a an absolute king of teases, Nuala is staggering gentle and beautiful

“And do you think love a trinket, Nuala?! That it is something I have at my disposal and could just give to you?!” his own voice echoed from the not-so-distant past.

“Then why do you treat mine as such? Is my love worth less than a trinket to you? Have I been too insignificant to be noticed, my Lord?” Her eyes, glistening with tears of disappointment paired with the inevitable realisation of impending heartbreak, expected no response. She straightened her back, excused herself and without sparing him a second glance retreated into the depths of the castle.

For better or worse, soon after the Faiths attested to being fickle. They sought payment for the family blood he had spilt. In his mind, occupied by the weight of the universe, he forgot her, her hazel eyes and her pain-filled words.

The Dreaming no longer bore joy and excitement, the smell of death and ruin ran thick through the air. Despair had seen it all through her mirrors. Her brother’s reflection had never been so clear. His complexion grew paler by the day, his sighs – deeper and his eyes, black obsidians decorated with burning stars, had lost their flame, leaving nothing but dull, pitch void. And Despair couldn’t handle it, she cried.

And Desire, triumphant as they should’ve been, had gone silent. Hidden at the very core of the Threshold, Desire looked into the distance, reminiscing about themselves for the mischievous Endless knew what they had done. Desire could feel their brothers’ longing now. And they hated it as that should’ve never been the outcome, it should’ve been nothing but a lesson. But nothing would ever cause them to admit so.

And Dream, proud and arrogant Dream of the Endless, claimed he will protect his realm to the best of his abilities, that he had given himself to the fight, yet he left. He left to see Lyta Hall. No, that would be a lie. He left to see a love that had cut him so deep he promised he would never love again.

And she told him, that past love, with her venomous tongue about who he was. And he listened. And his feet sinking into the depths of the sands of torment, only sunk faster.

It would be a wretched lie to claim Morpheus ever attempted to protect the Dreaming. The Dreaming was at the end him. And he had no will or reason to fight for himself anymore. The Stained King of Dreams and Nightmares had convinced himself that the only way to atone for what he had done was to pay with the blood of his existence.

And Death, for reasons beyond any beings' understanding, had refused to share her gift with her brother. And when this universe got locked away and the next one came and went and even after that, Death would not tell what she had told the Faiths. Whatever it was, it had proved enough for them to leave the Dreaming for good. It was only for her to know. For Death’s love and bias could never be fully understood by anyone but herself.

“You want to atone?” she squeezed her little brothers’ shoulders. “Live then. Atone through life. I am, as someone dear to us once said, a coward’s game. I do not take you for a coward, little brother.” And she handed him back his throne, his realm, his bloody crown before leaving him alone, with only the sound of the waves hitting the rocks for company.

And Destiny, deep in his gardens, was watching the scene play out on the distant shores of the Dreaming. He was in his own right indifferent to his younger brothers’ life and death. He only ever did whatever the Book told him. In it, in black cursive ink, Death’s words appeared on the page, concluding this whole debacle. It was not Dream’s time yet. One day perhaps, but not that day. The Book was closed and the world spun as it usually did, in an Endless aimless circle.

Except that the Dreaming was left in ruin once more. The damage was certainly not as nearly as devastating as it had been when Robert Burgees had imprisoned him, but even so, it was not all that better. Lucienne knew that the rebuilding will prove much more strenuous this time in comparison. Back then he hadn’t abandoned the Dreaming, he was forced out of it. This time she wasn’t sure if he had the will to move on. The King’s feet would drag on the floor, carrying shackles made of guilt and anguish, his shape became shaky, smeared to the eye of the beholder. Morpheus raised his hands sluggishly. With no more than four gestures he brought those that had lost their lives. He spoke not. Not to Lucienne, not to those who inhaled for the first time again. Only Fiddler’s Green demanded to be left alone in the dead. Morpheus, tired and empty, did not protest, he only wished Fiddler’s Green peace.

“Your lives are no longer in danger. They shall not return. Everything will return to the way it was.” He waved dismissively in a weak attempt to offer his subjects some sense of security. With one final drag through the throne room, Dream secluded himself deep into his personal quarters.

The constant feeling of Damocles's sword hanging over all of their heads did not leave them, some only felt it swinging closer.

“Why don’t I believe him?” Mervyn scuffed, picking up his tools scattered on the ground.

“Because he is lying.” Lucienne sighed, clutching her books closer to her chest. “Come on. We need to start fixing this castle from somewhere.”

Lucienne only looked up to the skies and hid some hope that something, even someone will bring their King back to them.

And in a long forgotten by its creator corner of the Dreaming, away from all the well-established Dreaming realms, so far you can’t see it from the castle unless you squint your eyes, was a forest. It was an evergreen forest once, home to the dream of hunting. In the dawn of the Middle Ages, men would close their eyes and dream of bird songs and prey in abundance. Humanity had long abandoned that dream. The leaves dried and fell lifelessly on the ground, rocks broke in twos and waters became muddy. The animal inhabitants disappeared and the forest dreams left, their powers diminishing alongside the greenery. Long before the Kindly Ones wreaked havoc on the Dreaming, the forest was destroyed, tucked away as nothing more than a nightmare-infested domain.

In the heart of the ruins, someone sang. An airy, rosy tune of anticipation and unbreaking spirit filled the abyss.

Nuala of the Faerie held her pendant close to her chest. She could feel his pain. She always did. But the right to hold him in her arms, share his sorrow, it was not hers. A bribe, a trinket, that’s all she was. Her head had made amends with that. And yet her heart stubborn and unwavering cried, the tears silently soaking the dead dirt.

Lucienne found no pleasure in visiting the forest. It reminded her of the way they were all forgettable and replaceable in the end. She had little choice; a calculation of the damages was in order. Just as ever she stepped inside, calling out to any inhabitant that might have found a home here. Dream’s creations, especially the nightmares, had peculiar living preferences.

She was getting close to giving up and returning when a familiar melody emerged from the core accompanied by pauses of laughter. Armed with the determined pace of any self-respecting librarian she reached the heart of the forest, halting abruptly in shock. The desolate rocks and mud were nowhere to be found. In their place, tall grass in bright green and fluffy moss covered the ground. She couldn’t remember the last time yellow-breasted chats and song sparrows decorated the branches, their jingles jumping on the winds. White daisies swayed from side to side, the breeze swirling around them.

“What did you do?” muttered Lucienne, her eyes fixed on her surroundings.

Nuala’s song faded at once and with it, the birds stopped chirping. The fairy turned carefully, holding two baby bunnies in her hands. Her eyes trembled, her eyebrows furrowed and her stance resembled one of a criminal caught in the most heinous of acts. Nuala was afraid.

“No one comes here.” She spoke. Mainly to herself.

“Did you do this?” Lucienne finally stepped closer, her boots sinking into the grass field. The fairy nodded backing away, her arms holding onto the babies tighter. “How…”

“I suppose abandoned things find each other.” She whispered just loud enough for the librarian to make out.

Lucienne stopped there. She rarely made visible her distaste for the way Morpheus had handled Nuala’s delicate feelings. She remembered then his cruel shout, his nightmarish eyes. They never spoke about it, but even then he already knew he had caused irreparable damage.

“Nuala…” the librarian wished to apologise, to defend her Lord in any capacity, but it was of no use. In the end, it would be a lie and they both knew that. She couldn’t do this to the fairy. It was rare that someone cared so openly for everybody around them, so lying to her would be vile.

“Don’t. I…I am not a selfish being. I understand. I do not blame him. I simply wish I had never said anything, maybe then it would hurt less.” The fairy put down her jumpy friends, inspecting their home before dusting her clothes off. “Do you want to see the rest?” She smiled from ear to ear.

It was hard not to notice at times the stark contrast between them. She shined bright for those around her on all and any occasions even in her heartache. His darkness was vast, smothering and dragging down with him any light too bright for his liking.

“The rest? There is more?” Lucienne’s face lit up in anticipation. Oh, how long it had been since she felt the surroundings of life.

“Come on.” Nuala bent down, picking up her pink shoes from a trunk covered in dusty green moss. Lucienne noticed then the thin vines wrapped around the length of her legs. “I will tell you everything on the way.”

Nuala led the librarian through paths and caves, ponds and hidden passages, and fields of lavender and pink wild roses.

“This place has been dead for centuries, Nuala. I watched it decay.”

“I know.” The fairy confirmed walking forward. “It didn’t wish to exist.”

“I still don’t understand how-”

“It’s a dream, Lucienne. All you need is someone to believe in it and it has the potential to do anything.”

“Who would believe in a hunting forest?” the librarian adjusted her glasses against the warm sun.

“I did.” She smiled, picking up wildflowers in the middle of the lavender field. “Heartbreak is discouraging, you know. The forest embraced me, it recognized my pain and let me in. The rest was easy.”

“Nuala” Lucienne couldn’t handle it. “Why did you stay?”

The question seemed to not bother her in the slightest, a light smile gracing her features.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think my heart could’ve handled it.”

“I see. Lucienne, can I ask you something?” Nuala walked around, picking up a bouquet of daisies and other small wildflowers. “Am I blonde or am I brunette? Am I tall or am I short? Am I the Ice Maiden or am I simply…this? Am I beautiful to the point where men would kill themselves for me or am I so insignificant that he compared my love to a trinket?” her fingers played around with the petals of the flowers. “I do not know who I am. I stayed because at least here I don’t have to pretend to know. To smile when I’m given away as a gift, a bribe. To thank a queen that despised me so deeply she saw fit to get rid of me like this. What is a bit of a heartbreak to the probability of being someone who I know I am not? I know I just asked all these questions and I may not know who I am, but at least I know who I’m not.” For a moment in her hazel eyes, Lucienne saw a sea of sadness concealed by layers of pretend happiness. The moment ended and Nuala turned her back once more, marching ahead. “Besides, this place would’ve died without me.” She mentioned.

“I understand.” Lucienne was rarely left speechless. She thought herself capable of deciphering even the most complex of beings. They often came easy to her; she had after all spent what equates to an eternity with Morpheus. And even then, with all of this experience, Nuala of the Faerie was a creature that perplexed the librarian. She spoke her mind quietly but surely. Her words and messages were clear without an ounce of malice, no matter how broken she felt inside.

They walked in silence.

“Nuala, he is this place, you know that right? This tempering, he could feel it.” her fingers were so accustomed to the heavy leathers of the books and the dust from the shelves ran up and down the rough bark of the tree. It had been so long since she had breathed in the fresh air, felt the different textures, and seen the colours of nature. It felt tranquil, yet undeserved like she was walking inside the most vulnerable places of Nuala’s mind.

“He is severed from it.” her voice announced in a particularly nonchalant manner.

“He is Dream of the Endless; the Dreaming is him.” The correction came naturally to Lucienne.

“Do you know he cuts ties with things rather easily?” the bitter note didn’t escape either of them. “He allowed this place to fall into ruin because he didn’t care about it and even the most endless of beings has limited capacity to overlook their realm, so…he cut ties when people stopped believing in it. So, this place is it is own. Like Fiddler’s Green used to be.”

The thought of Fiddler’s Green brought grief. He was a dear friend, a welcomed presence in any conversation. Nuala always found safety in his valleys. For Lucienne, he was the oldest dream she ever called a friend. She missed his company, the shade under his oaks, and his ability to lead the most profound and simultaneously silly conversations imaginable.

Lost in thoughts, Lucienne had stopped walking, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them off quickly with the back of her shirt, cursing herself quietly for crying. It didn’t matter now. He was gone. Her pace picked up, her footsteps echoed through the leaves.

“Are you alright?” the fairy inquired tactfully.

“I believe so.”

“Then there is one more place I want to show you. But Lucienne?”

“Yes.”

“No one could ever know.”

Uncertain, Lucienne followed. The moon had long settled on the Dreaming by the time the librarian returned to her chambers. She had been bestowed a secret so delightful, she almost wished it would remain a secret forever. Then, it would be safe from Morpheus’s peculiar moods.

But in the end, when was anything safe from Morpheus’ moods?

The King of Dreams and by extension the Dreaming remained distant and dull for years after that. Lucienne had assumed a good portion of his responsibilities. In time the secret of the forest had spread through the close circle of the Dreaming residents. The brothers, Cain and Abel, gifted Nuala seeds of talking flowers, where they had gotten them remained a mystery. Mervyn looked after the construction of the forest, made sure its boundaries were firmly set and no wandering dreamer could jump from one reality to the other. This was especially important for children.

“The little buggers,” he would say, “they don’t have the tolerance for the trip. They get scared, you see.”

Eve blessed the ground with fertility and Matthew gave some much-needed guidance on the mundane aspects of ‘attractive nature’. He held pride in his contribution to the cause. Lucienne did all within her power to restore the living ecosystem beyond small rabbits and birds. And Nuala? She found and brought each of the lost forest, wind and river dreams and nightmares back to their home. It was by the fifth year after the devastation of the Kindly Ones that the entire forest blossomed to its fullest for the very first time.

It was no longer after the first summer nights of that same year that Morpheus showed himself for the first time. His scruffy look had made it obvious he felt no responsibility to take care of himself. It had come as no surprise to Lucienne. She had been the only one permitted into his personal space for all this time. That made little difference to the operating of the realm, but at the very least she knew he was still with them.

“I will walk around.” He had announced, leaning on the bookshelf.

“My Lord.” Her eyes barely raised from the page at his announcement. Her lips pursed into a line indicating a pause. She continued, unsure of how to thread around the line of appropriateness. “Perhaps you might want to tidy yourself a bit.” She said in the end. “A lot of your enemies would rejoice at even the tiniest sniff of your misery.”

Morpheus let out a light sound in acknowledgement moving away, his barely perceivable hands rotating in circles altering his appearance. During the time he had spent cloistered from everything, his form had become barely recognizable, shadows and lines of darkness with no face to accompany them or body to get a hold of, just dark smoke and ominous shadows.

He now resembled himself much more clearly. Tall, with skin as pale as bone and hair as dark as night, he moved around the realm, taking on a more detailed form. His star-filled eyes shaped last, the light radiating out of them bitter cold.

He went on a walk.

In the dream of an impressionable single woman from a metropolis, he took the place of a bartender at a nightclub, inquiring about the happiness of being alone. She whispered words with no meaning into his ear.

In the dream of an old wise man, Morpheus asked about the fulfilment of a long life. The man had shouted mortal tales of Gods and Heavens. Nothing of substance.

In the dream of a motivated young man, the King of Dreams was a stockholder. The young man shared enthusiastic fantasies of greatness and potential that could reach the sky. Tale-tales.

There was no meaning. No one had meaning.

Jumping from dream to dream, through bridges and trains, Morpheus of the Endless found himself in a forest. It was no place of his creation; he recognized no trees and he knew nothing of where the paths would take him. It was undeniably beautiful, however. It was alive as well. Not the way Fiddler’s Green had been, although one could get easily mistaken. This place lived through the organisms living in it, it was no organism on its own. He could hear a thousand heartbeats pumping in unison. Deers and wolves, hares and foxes, all cohabited in this place together. It was a domain of their dreams, where they found no reason to harm each other. Flowers of the rare and extinct kinds bloomed in bright rainbow colours. The moss was as soft as cotton, covering the stones from end to end.

For the first time, Dream was curious. He slowed down, walking carefully through the greenery. It was overwhelming, how every thought that entered his mind was one of peace. He hadn’t felt peace, not for a long time. He approached a doe resting on a bed of flowers.

“What are you doing here, little thing?” he asked, the back of his hand gently stroking its head.

“Dreaming.” It answered.

“Are you at peace?” he continued.

“I am.” It responded.

It was then, deeply immersed in the Elysium of his surroundings, that the King of Dream heard the faint laughter coming from the depths of the forest.

“What is there?” he asked the doe.

“Love.” It responded for the last time before taking its leave.

Morpheus got up, following the sounds. The closer he got to the centre of this evergreen maze of passages, the more voices he could make out. Chirpy, deep, shouting at top of their lungs, spewing enthusiastic gibberish, laughing as loud as their voices could carry, crying quietly, he could now make out a harmony of voices.

At the end of the forest, only a shadow away from where he was standing, it all became as clear as day. An infinite sunny field of corn poppies, sweet alyssums, cornflowers and blue flax had hugged tightly in their embrace new residents of the Dreaming. All that cacophonic noise was simply children. Cohorts of them, not one familiar with the others, yet they all played together. They sipped tea and chased after each in ill-fitting nightgowns and pants. Wearing ties around their heads, wooden swords, fairy wings and eye-patches made of plastic, and feathery shawls from craft stores, they connected with old forest dreams of various shapes and sizes. Bunnies and puppies ran alongside them. It was like nothing Morpheus had seen in millennia. It was nothing he had created in millennia. He never quite got the eye for innocence.

His eyes fixed on Lucienne, easily distinguishable among the new guests. It had been long since Dream had heard the librarian laugh out of joy. It dawned on him that perhaps he had never heard her laugh, to begin with.

As he prepared to step into the sun, he heard Nuala’s laughter fill the space. She was still here? He had thought she left for her realm the night they fought. It had been years since he last heard her voice. Would she even look into his eyes? Why would she? All the cruel things he said come back in waves. Shame trickled down his spine, dragging him back into the shadows.

When had she changed so much? Her dress, no longer short, raggedy and pink, was now dragging behind her in the colour of freshly fallen snow. Her fringed bob had gone past the small of her back in heavy brown waves. Her hair was held by a multitude of tiny chrysanthemums and a single deeply purple iris flower right in the centre. And her body, covered in freckles, ever so deity, now stood proud. She looked happy.

She was crouching next to Lucienne braiding flowers into a dreamer's hair. Impatient, the kid ran off, holding the hand of a river spirit. Before the fairy ever got the chance to finish the braid all the flowers dropped to the ground. Unbothered in the slightest, she picked them back up.

“Maybe later.” He heard her mutter.

Mervyn, Nuala, Lucienne, and Matthew resting on Eve’s shoulder and the brothers, all stood quiet afterwards. It was rare that the residents of the Dreaming created something of their own. They were all perfectly content with providing Morpheus with their assistance. But this one tiny corner of infinity had their name on it, so they held onto it tightly, letting the sounds of happiness wash over them.

“Do you think he will destroy it?” Nuala’s voice ran quiet, scared even, that perhaps she might disrupt the moment, breaking the utopia.

Lucienne’s lips, curled into a mysterious smile. It’s been too long since Lucienne had known her boss. She needed no assistance spotting him in every corner of the Dreaming and right that moment, he was not doing a particularly clean job at hiding. Without averting her gaze from the field she spoke, voice clear and loud:

“He may not be a consistent being by nature, but if he sees what we see, I see no reason for fear.”

Morpheus was a being in possession of a lot of flaws, imperfections and peculiarities, but perhaps the one he truly desired he could get rid of was his inability to control his heart. Whether now, or at the very beginning of the universe, Morpheus fell in love miraculously easily. So he heard nothing of what his most trusted advisor had tried to hint his way. No. He was too busy trailing after Nuala beaming with excited pupils. They followed every single child, all with the same passion, not skipping a beat. When had she grown to be so beautiful? So passionate? Had he been gone for so long that the world around him changed so drastically? Or maybe she had always been there, right before his eyes.

“Have I been too insignificant to notice, my Lord?” her tear-stricken face appeared before his eyes. Maybe he was so blinded by his own blusterous nature that he had found her presence nothing but a nuisance. Looking at the field, seeing them all together like that, maybe the nuisance was him.

Perhaps the one who always needed to change was him.

Morpheus moved back and away into his castle. His body dissolved into its molecules, reconstructing itself at the steps of his throne room. He sat down, head solemnly hanging. His chest, uncomfortably tightening with an emotion he was well acquainted with.

“You left before you could say hello, my Lord.”

She had followed him suit.

“Lucienne.”

“You should’ve come to greet the rest.”

“I wished not to scare the children.” He blabbered. An excuse so transparent even he saw was useless.

“I understand.” She bowed her head lightly, covering a smile. “How was your walk?”

“Eventful.” He got up. There was a sense of unfamiliar determination brewing at his core. “What else had I missed besides an entirely new realm, made not by me.”

“It’s an old, forgotten realm. Lady Nuala discovered it when…” she hesitated. “well, discovered a long time ago.”

“Did the Lady Nuala rebuild it?” he pressed.

“She revived it for the most part, yes.”

“Fascinating little thing.” He thought to himself.

“My Lord?” Lucienne looked up at the mural. “May I speak bluntly?”

“Go ahead.”

“You have been gone for five years. I would like to assure you things are as you left them, but they have all adapted to fit the tiring times and have therefore been hard on all of us. I have always told you I never doubted you and I shall not doubt you until the day when you no longer have service of me and that continues to stand true, however, I must ask. Why now?”

“I am afraid the nature of the question escapes me, Lucienne.”

“Why did you show yourself now?” her lips formed a line, afraid she might have overstepped her boundaries.

“Because I have responsibilities.”

“Your responsibilities did not disappear, you abandoned them.” Her voice, timid by nature, had risen. Her emotions had for a moment escaped her iron clutch. “We all needed-”

“You are right. I am sorry.”

Three simple words caused Lucienne to go into a stupor, blank eyes staring at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“I apologize for failing to be there for you all. You are right. I did abandon you, but I shall do that no longer. So, I apologize.”

“My Lord…”

“Come walk with me. We have lots of work to attend to, I believe.”

This much he was sure of. If he poured his soul back into his work, he would forget about his tightening chest, shame-ridden thoughts and the fairy’s warm smile and welcoming eyes.

The impending option was to stall time, pondering on Nuala’s last words to him, cursing himself for his blindness until the realization hits that the fairy had perhaps forever escaped his grasp and there was no one to blame but him. That was no option he could afford.

They walked down the long corridors of the library, catching on all that had happened between her reports in the last years.

“My Lord, may I ask what you would do with the forest?” Lucienne’s voice shook. Morpheus flashed her a soft smile. Lucienne had already started pleading a case Morpheus had not considered to begin with.

“Do I strike you as cruel? That I will take something so beautiful away from dreamers?” Lucienne prepared to answer. “Do not answer. I see your point. To assure you plainly, I shall not touch that place.” His words were targeted to Lucienne, yet his thoughts ran towards the fairy, her sparkling eyes and “You did a spectacular job there.”

“We only helped. It was her belief that revived it.”

Morpheus remained silent.

“My Lord, you need not worry about Lady Nuala. She bears no ill feelings towards you. She has moved on.”

She loved him no more. The difficult truth that those eyes once shined for him the same, flooded him with guilt and frustration. Where had he been looking so intently that her heart had seemed so negligible? Now that he was ready to see her, the way she was, her heart was somewhere else. Maybe even belonging to someone else. Is that what mortals called justice? It felt heavy, difficult to endure.

“Of course.” His voice remained calm in the storm of his feelings. “That is good to know. Does she intend to remain with us in the Dreaming?”

“Yes. She has no intention of leaving the realm.”

“Good. In that case, I would entrust her to know what she is doing over there. Please, inform her of my decision. I do not wish for her to worry needlessly.”

“At once, my Lord.” The librarian prepared to take her leave.

“Lucienne?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Do you think I could face her ever again?” Honesty seeped into his words.

“I find you are capable of a great many things, my lord if you put your mind to them. I would not say your pride will easily allow you to reach out to her. You just came back to us. Take it slow.”

The next few days Morpheus took to clean his home. He first gathered his closest advisors, offering them an apology, nothing more, they were frankly already puzzled to receive that much. He gave those that have passed and refused to come back, the proper send off. The second Corinthian roamed around in his new glory, fully aware of his purpose this time. Cain and Abel were given new contracts that ensured that Abel’s death belonged only and exclusively to Cain. Eve desired nothing more than what she had already possessed. Matthew was just happy to be back to his duties. He would gladly fly from the waking world and back a thousand times if it meant Dream would never leave him in the dust again. Without rest the Prince of Stories caught up on all humanity had created in his absence. On the last of the cleaning days, Morpheus breathed life into entirely new dreams and nightmares, sending them into the universe.

There was comfort in the new monotonous day-to-day. A lot of the realm he previously found daunting had now taken on a new perspective. Morpheus had found himself content with his existence. For the most part.

Day after day, month after month since he had seen Nuala in the forest, the fairy found her way around the castle swift like a mouse. Her abilities to hide from Morpheus were on such a masterful level, he could easily compare her to a cloud – clearly visible, yet practically untouchable. It seemed she had no issues communicating with all other residents, yet as soon as her eyes would notice him approaching her way, she would disappear into the crowd. No matter what, the fairy would not spare the king a glance. At most, her head would bow in his direction, she would mutter some honorific and that would be it. He believed at first he could handle the rejection, but soon he felt his old self nagging at him, frustrated, entitled to receive the attention he thought he deserved. It wasn’t long after he found himself following her around more than he would like to admit.

It was after all easy to be invisible in the shadows. Nightmares all were. They resembled their creator in that sense. And Morpheus more than anyone was a nightmare. He could skulk at the edge of someone’s silhouette and you shall never know he was there unless his presence was made known. It was even easier with her.

Nuala of the Faerie never doubted what might lurk around. She naively believed all nightmares were nothing more than wounded dreams. She felt no fear in their presence. Her hands never strayed from the Corinthian’s face who had started following her around at some point and simply never left her side. She also had the strength to not only indulge in conversations with the ancient mara and alps but would tell them off for overstepping their boundaries with the visitors of the forest. Nuala was simply an iridescent bubble of amusing contradictions.

It had started timidly. He’ll check up on her, make sure she handled everything at a satisfactory for his standards degree. ‘That was all’ he told himself so many times, the excuse wore thin. Still day after day whatever time the Dream Lord didn’t spend on the strengthening of his realm, he spent in the shadows of the trees, watching over her through the silhouettes of unsuspecting animals, dreaming their way through the forest.

It was once that she walked through the library at the same time as him. Impatient he followed suit, walking through the bookshelves upon bookshelves of novels and poems. The Story Lord had rehearsed a whole speech in his head, he was incapable of going through the turmoil of her evident rejection anymore. As he called out to her, the Corinthian appeared as if out of thin air.

“Lala, I found it!”

“You did?” hesitant notes coloured her voice.

“Botanical Magic, there. Written in cursive even.” The nightmare had spent a great deal of time with the fairy. Morpheus’s guess as to why was as good as any. Nightmares were unpredictable by nature.

“Cori, this is a cooking recipe book.” She laughed wholeheartedly.

“But it’s magic.”

“In the cooking perhaps.”

“Lucienne found it for me. Thank you though.” She squeezed his arm.

“Didn’t she say she lost it?” the nightmare adjusted his sunglasses. He preferred ones with a wider frame nowadays, fewer chances of the kids snatching them off his face.

“I was certain she did.”

“So now we got everything we need then?”

“Yep.” Morpheus could almost swear she turned her head on her way out, staring right back at him, hiding behind the ‘stories never told’ section. “We are done here.”

A mischievous smirk graced Morpheus’s face. So, she knew. She let him follow her like this.

“When did you become such a brave little thing? Very well, then, Nuala of the Faerie. Be it as you wish.” Nothing riled up a nightmare like feeling challenged after all. And he was the King of them all.

When her Lord did return to the patiently awaiting Lucienne, the flames in his eyes had been ignited. The corners of her lips curved upwards.

“The Lady Nuala seemed to have asked for a book?” he inquired.

“She did.”

“You lost it I understand?”

“Did I?” her brow raised gracefully. “Must have been a mistake. Nothing is ever lost in my library.”

“Curious. I have the same observations.” His eyes shined vividly in her direction.

“Truly a mystery.” They didn’t have to talk about it. They had spent eons together at this point, highs and lows, wherever Morpheus went Lucienne was sure to follow. She was just glad to see him feel something again. “I missed the spark in your eyes, my Lord. It’s good to have you back.”

“It is good to be back.”

“Can I have your undivided attention now?”

“For now.”

“Allow me to rephrase, my lord. The quicker we deal with the situations that require your attention, the quicker you could go back to your new…hobby.”

“Do not make fun of me.” His head fell in his hands, embarrassed blush colouring his ears.

“I have no recollection of what you are referring to, my Lord.”

Morpheus let out a deep laugh. Life flowed through his veins, warming his body. In the end, the profound meaning he was searching so intensely for was right at his feet. Desire and its stupid love. He could never escape its clutches.

Desire had nothing to do with this. The younger Endless zesty thick scent usually lingered long after they were done messing up whatever they were playing around with. No, this was simply life.

“Live.” Death’s words echoed in his mind.

On that day, the sun rose high and the breeze was warm in the Dreaming. The residents all noticed each in their corner. Their King had returned.

Nuala looked up to the sky, hand clutching the diamond tear-shaped pendant.

“He’s back.” She whispered.

Nuala never considered herself important. At least not after everything that had happened between them. Her confidence made of glass had shattered the moment Morpheus had gripped her chin for the very first time, taking off her glamour. By any account, The Lord Shaper was no gentle creature, but love didn’t ask, it only ever took whatever it wanted. And Nuala foolishly gave all of herself to its demands. When Thessaly gripped onto his arm, Nuala grit her teeth and endured for she knew her place, she knew she held no importance to him. She couldn’t offer him much but herself and that could never be enough for someone like him.

Even now, after all, she had done for the realm, at the very least she hoped he’d visit her, look at her, tell her he sees her. It was foolish, especially after the way they fought the last time. It was sick to say she felt the pleasure of at least knowing she mattered enough to cause him anger, but it was true. Perhaps she had hoped to anger him enough just once more, to make sure he really didn’t care for her.

No. He mattered little to her. Yes, he mattered so very little. She lived for herself now, for her realm. The Lord of Dreams had no importance to her anymore. Nothing connected them. She ought to remember that stolen love was worth half a life and she no longer could afford stealing her own time.

Nuala ran. She ran through the fields until her legs couldn’t carry her anymore. She stumbled, fell, got up and continued to run. Her white dress now coloured with the shades of the earth, hid her knees, all bruised up. It all hurt, but she stopped thinking about him. For now, that was more than he could say about her.

“The Lady Nuala is not in her quarters.”

“What a surprise, my Lord. I am on my way to rest.”

“She is not in the forest.”

Lucienne sighed deeply, fingers massaging the sides of her temple. It had been a positively exhausting day. An old quarrel with Hell took the entirety of the day. It took them so long to not only resolve it but make sure it doesn’t happen again.

“She is.” The librarian cut him off impatiently. “She is probably hiding in the lagoon of the lilies.”

By the time she realised Nuala’s most sacred secret was out, it was too late. Lucienne covered her mouth in surprise at her own slip-up.

“Where.”

“I’ve said too much. I bid you good rest, my Lord.”

“Lucienne.”

“I can’t. If I tell you she will never forgive me.”

“If you do not tell me immediately, you will be out of a job for hiding crucial information from your ruler.”

“Don’t twist my hands.” She took off her glasses.

“Do not force me then.”

Lucienne leaned on a near wall.

“Okay, fine. The lagoon of the lilies is the heart of the forest. It’s a small lake hidden behind a bunch of vines at the Ventlita Waterfall.”

“I bid you goodnight, my precious librarian.” His kiss on her hand was playful.

Morpheus was in the end an entitled being. He could humble himself only so much before taking matters into his own hands.

On the other hand, perhaps it was the entitlement that led him to this very moment. Perhaps he should’ve followed his instincts while there was still time and did the sensible thing of leaving as soon as he had heard her voice coming from inside the lagoon. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been walking around her forest like this. Perhaps. But here he was, clad in the shadows once more.

He wanted to make her aware of his presence, yet the very thought of her running away from him once more filled him with delusional certainty about his decision to lurk in her private time like this. He was Morpheus, King of Dreams and Nightmares, one of the most powerful beings in existence and he was pathetically longing after a fairy, the most deceiving of all creatures.

But not her. He knew her more than she perhaps knew herself at this point. She was diligent, surprisingly honest and naively excited for even the most unimpressionable of events. She would help a dream and a nightmare without discriminating. She never raised her voice, even when she was visibly frustrated. She took pride in her creations, defending them with surprising for her size bravery.

Nuala of the Faerie made no sense and it drove Morpheus to the very brink of sanity. She could recognize this now. Whenever he fell in love, his partners were never less than he was, some of them carried even more power than he did. Even his short but steamy fling with the Queen of the Faerie was at its roots a power struggle. Morpheus found immense pleasure at being challenged simply on the metric of simple brute force. From Titania, Morpheus learned fairies were devious, falsely idolized creatures, arrogant to no end and stabbing with their words regardless at who they were pointed at.

Yet Nuala, a mere subject of Titania, a bribe given with no little amount of venomous intentions, adapted and bloomed without taking away from those around her. She remained kind without fail. In contrast, he had without a doubt been arrogant and dismissive towards her, cocky that his love is more important than any being. His was a gift bestowed only to those worthy of his attention. But in the end, so was hers. That was by default what love was. A vulnerable piece of someone’s soul held in the embrace of another. And what had he done with hers? Thrown it to the side until it shattered to mere salt.

She was standing right in the middle of the lake, most of her body covered in the water. The moon in the Dreaming had risen high in the sky, showering her glistening naked body in light. Morpheus didn’t miss a single droplet rolling from her fingers as she stretched lightly. They fell down her delicate wrists, the sides of her breasts and back into the luminous water of the lagoon. With every sway of her body, the water lilies danced up and down.

Her voice, humming alluring melodies, called to him, like a siren to a starved sailor, letting his imagination run wild – her small waist easily fitting in his grasp, her fragile body breaking under the weight of his want, her voice cracking in pleading cries.

It was feasible that under different circumstances his arrogance wouldn’t have stifled the protests of his decency. But his mind was far gone. He was here and she had nowhere to run anymore. If it was not now, then he would have to admit defeat. A King rarely found pleasure in doing so.

“So you’ve hidden a piece of Heaven away from me, I suppose?” his voice came out hoarse from constraint. Holding onto his lust now proved awfully difficult.

Her song snapped in half morphing into a surprised yelp. Nuala hid her body in the water as much as possible, her head going underwater for a good second.

“My Lord! What are you doing here?!” she emerged back up, voice shaking.

“I could ask you the same. I was walking around when I heard your song and just came this way to make sure it is you.” Liar. “Usually my guests and residents are asleep at this hour, Nuala.”

“I…no one comes around here! No one knows about this place except for…” she found no reason to finish the sentence. By the smug look on his face, the fairy knew the effort to hide anything from him was in vain.

“Did you really think anything could escape me, little one? Is this not my realm?”

“The forest exists-”

“Is that what the forest told you?” he reached for a nearby vine swirling it around his finger, the same all-knowing smile made her feel shrink in her place. “It does not matter actually.” The vine swung back and forth for a while after he let it go. “Is the water warm?”

“Uhm, it is nice, yeah.” She replied stiffly.

“Would you mind if I joined you? I promise not to bother you.” He wasn’t even trying to cover for his lies, they just came out of his mouth as natural as breathing. He wanted to bother her, grab her hair, gather the droplets off her body, kiss her cherry coloured lips, mess them so much they get the hue of dark maroon.

The fairy had moved so far back from the shore, she could hide behind the rocks steadily poking in the corners of the lagoon. Perhaps she was too flustered to do so, instead grabbing a water lily, hiding behind it to the best of her abilities.

“I can…leave and leave you to your devices, my Lord. I wish not to intrude on your leisure.”

“That will not be necessary. Please, do not let me disturb your peace. I will take the other corner. Right there.” He pointed to the opposite part of the shore, closer to where he was standing. “As I said, I do not wish to bother you in your sacred place.” Slowly. Like cornering a frightened rabbit.

“As…as you wish.” Her fingers gripped onto the flower tighter.

The light of the moon, full and brilliant, deepened the shadows on his milky white naked skin empathizing every muscle. The fairy caught herself peeking at him, following every contraction of his muscles as he reached for his belt. The blush quickly creeped all the ways to her ears. Swiftly her back turned to him. It was not the bare skin that caused such a bashful reaction. No, she came from the Court of Faeries where lust and naked skin reigned supreme. It was him, in his dark certainty that enthralled her like this, like a moth to a flame, Nuala could not help but be simultaneously afraid and attracted to him.

She only heard the cackling of the metal and felt the shift of the water once he entered the lake. Nuala did not dare to turn around, her fingers playing with the lily petals, nervously fumbling them across her fingers. She just hoped he couldn’t hear the sound of her madly beating heart.

She had been doing so good until now, bolting at the very sight of him. For months, she had manoeuvred her way through the castle through every hidden passage and secret entrance she knew. Nuala wished for his attention, that much was undeniable. And yet she did not have the guts to look in his eyes. The words that hung between them were too heavy for her to pretend nothing had happened. When she claimed selfishly her heart desired for his attention even if it meant his wrath, she was lying. He may have been ever so handsome in his anger but what use was his gaze to be on her if there was not a sliver of care in it? No, this was all in vain. The Lord Shaper had made it clear numerous times he didn’t see her as a woman, but rather a gift, who had made itself useful enough to stay. She knew her place. She was as important to him as the lilies in this lake.

“You do not bother me.” She gathered the strength to respond. Even if she couldn't face him, Nuala had grown during his absence.

“Excuse me?” his voice came distant.

“If…” she cleared her throat. “If you are indeed connected to this place, it is all yours then. Only I can bother you.” She tried to clarify.

“I am connected to it all, Nuala. Even if I let it all dry and go to waste again, this is still a part of me. However, curiously this domain recognizes you as its ruler so my powers are limited.” He didn’t sound angry. Lucienne had told her the Lord Shaper was not dissatisfied with her about the reconstruction, yet she found it rather hard to believe. “I suppose I am at your mercy here.”

“I doubt that, your Grace.” Nuala was too flustered to even recognize the wickedly delightful notes in his voice.

“Only royals wear iris flowers in their hair. Is that not a fairy tradition? It did suit you.”

“Iris means hope, my Lord.” It took a minute for her to decipher his message properly. “You’ve come to the fields?!” At once her posture straightened, her ears perked.

“I have.”

“When?”

“I will tell you if you turn around and look at me.”

“I’m afraid that is indecent of me, my Lord.”

“I do not know your kind to be so modest, my Lady.”

“We are not.”

“Is it royal treatment then?”

“You are an Endless, my Lord. It would be rude of me to intrude on your vulnerable state.”

“I am afraid then I cannot answer your question.”

“If there is something else you wish for.”

Shameless, naïve, provocative little creature.

“Very well, then. Nuala, how did a little fairy guest stole a part of my realm, of my being and made it her own? Intruders have been killed for much less.” His voice echoed through the lagoon, mischievous words flowing through the distance between them.

“I did not steal, my Lord!” Nuala turned around abruptly and there he was, his face mere inches away from her own, smirking down triumphantly at her. She hid her own startled features behind the half destroyed flower. Only her hazel dilated pupils now gazed up at his obsidian ones. “I mean…it was just a forgotten forest…and it reminded me of home, my Lord.” She confessed.

“I am not your Lord here Nuala.” His body radiated chilliness, the distance shrinking with every raise of their chests. “If anything, I am powerless here, a mere servant in your domain. So tell me my Lady, has the King of Dreams not been hospitable to you? What kind of a foolish king would not treat you with dignity?” he whispered, hands stretching to grip onto the rock behind her.

“Nothing of the sort! You have been very kind to me, Lord Shaper!” she squeaked.

“I’m very glad to hear that, Nuala. I was starting to get the impression you are running away from me.” Due to the pure pressure of the stone hitting her back and his body pressing dangerously close to her own, Nuala averted her eyes, instead opting to gaze at the flickering lights of the night flowers. “You run even now. Do I intimidate you?”

He was teasing her exceedingly. He found it amusing how innocence could never prevail over lust for even the most decorous of beings. That was something Dream could never deny Desire. Their ability to captivate, hook and addict every being to lust. Even the Endless as proved by the case.

Morpheus had been a nightmare much longer than he was a dream for dreams came scarcely to him. He wouldn’t admit it but he did find a certain high at the display of his power. There was a sense of comfort in the sheer force of his existence. Yes, he loved pushing against the grandness of his partners, gods and royals alike, but it never once crossed his mind that a pair of dilated hazel pupils could make his aether purr with delight.

“I promise, I mean you no harm, flower. You can answer me honestly.”

“You…do. You confuse me.” It slipped her lips before she could think it through. Her hands flew to her mouth, the flower falling between their naked bodies.

“I confuse you?” he cocked an intrigued brow. “How so?” Morpheus leaned in, further cornering the fairy like a rabbit caught by a starving wolf.

Nuala shook her head, refusing to answer. She had said too much. A little closer and he was going to not only hear her mad heart but see her shivering with crude anticipation body.

His cocky smirk extended into a halfway mad grin, his head dipping into her shoulder, nose pressed to the nape of her neck. She smelled of fresh water, soap and her usual lingering of thousand flowers.

“Answer me, Nuala. How do I confuse you?” She had completely frozen at that point. “You confuse me more than I could possibly confuse you, I will confess as much. You run away from me, rile me up and then look me in the eyes and tell me you are done with me. Are you? Done with me?”

“This is it.” Her voice was silent, hushed, almost like it came out against her will, but it was firm, sure. “You confuse me, you make me think I don’t matter, you shouted at me, threw me aside, but then you look at me like that. From the very beginning. You have always looked at me like that.”

And she did look at him finally again with those eyes of hers. Those eyes that have driven men mad, to death even. How could any of them understand Morpheus? They all knew the Ice Maiden, they had died for her. No. They couldn’t. They had never seen her hazel eyes. Morpheus knew Nuala, his desire was Nuala.

“You didn’t answer your humble servant, my lady. Are you done with him? Will you throw this stained heart he is giving you?” his lips glazed over the delicate skin of her neck. He peppered it with kisses, freckle after freckle. They both knew the thread of control was running on borrowed time at that point.

“I do not know.” Her answer broke in a moan. Wherever his lips touched, it stung with pleasure.

“Are you this cruel, my lady? An Ice Maiden indeed. How can a humble servant help you decide?” He laughed against her skin.

“My, Lord, stop…”

“I am no Lord to you.” The whisper tingled down her back, the breeze blew, her senses peaked. Nuala pushed against Morpheus's chest, pulling him just far enough for her to speak.

“Morpheus, stop! I do not wish to be a marionette. I can’t do this anymore. What is that you want from me? How long should I run from you? How can I free myself from you? Tell me.” There were no tears in her eyes this time. She spoke calmly, yet her hands shook violently against his chest. “I do not wish to be something you’ll grow tired of and throw aside. I saw you do it once, you love the game and get bored as soon as you win. I was foolish, hell, I’m still a fool, I still love you. I still carry the stupid boon with me. For what?! To be an insignificant toy you can throw around for your pleasure! Did you hear nothing of what I told you before? If you think I will just play this game with you, find someone else. I just healed from you, so please…ah!” his teeth sunk into the soft flesh of her neck, sucking into it until maroon love roses bloomed on her body.

Her hands wrapped around his neck, reaching for her mouth to cover the painful shout.

“The day when the children first entered the realm.” He kissed around the newly formed marks.

“What?”

“I was there when the children first entered the forest. You were there and Lucienne was there alongside everyone else. You couldn’t finish the braid of the child and all the flowers fell on the ground. The day after that you went around counting the animals. The one after that you picked the berries and made pies for everyone. Or perhaps the one when Corinthian latched himself onto you and never left your side. Or the evening when you sang alone in the stars. Or do you wish to hear about the library and your cold eyes? Which of your days do you wish to hear about? I was there the entire time. You wish to talk about pathetic? Am I not the most pathetic being for following you in shadows day in and day out? I close my eyes and you are there, I open them and I don’t see you. Is that not torture?”

Shock painted her features, she stopped fighting him, eyes locked in his.

“I was the fool. I was the fool the entire time. So tell me, your humble lovestruck servant,” his hands wrapped around her waist, as he fell on his knees biting his way down her collarbones and the sides of her ribs. “how can I apologize in the stead of a foolish king who was blind to your love?”

Small, lewd noises escaped her lips.

“Tell me. I’m at your mercy.”

Her fingers tangled his jet-black locks pulling him back up.

“I don’t believe you.” She whispered.

“I do not blame you.”

“What can you give me that I don’t already have?” their breaths coloured each others faces.

“Realms of your own, the finest of silks, anything you wish for.”

“Give me your heart.” She challenged.

“I gave you my heart a long time ago.” His fingers reached for the diamond pendant.

“The pendant belonged to Thessaly, Morpheus.”

“Does it matter if it found its rightful owner in the end?”

“And if you grow tired of me?"

“Kill me.”

Nuala had kissed her suiters before, not once, their kisses all felt stiff and hostile. His lips melted through the core of her being, sensual, demanding. Her breath ran raggedy, their bodies searching madly for each other. Her hands in his hair, his pressing her chest as close as possible without crushing her delicate body.

Her hair ran in all directions. Without looking Morpheus’s hands waved dismissively, flowers and vines wrapped themselves around Nuala, braiding her hair away from her face. She bit down on his neck, lightly scratching the milky white skin of the Endless.

Picking her with ease, Dream’s back hit the rocks switching their places. It changed under his silent command, re-shaping itself into a comfortable settle for him to rest upon. Her body laid on top of his, nails digging into his back.

Instantly his mouth attached itself to hers once more, afraid that if he turned his head even for a moment, she’ll disappear into dust once more. She followed his lead timidly, letting him pick up and slow the pace to his liking. Previously convinced, he would despise it, Morpheus found himself enjoying the control.

Nuala’s mind ran to the very corners of her sanity, the words convinced she wished to speak out, smothered in condensed thrill. She only pushed his chest once more to breath in, her face bright red. The back of his hand connected with her cheek.

“Breathe, flower. Breathe.”

“Don’t tease me.” she leaned into his touch, smiling to herself.

“I am not.” His eyes answered her gentle gaze rendering her speechless. She had never seen him like this. Vulnerable, present.

“I will really kill you, Dream of the Endless. Break me again and I will kill you.”

“And if my heart is earnest and transparent to you?”

“Then I will tend to your pain, your sorrow, your happiness. I don’t have much, but I will love you, Morpheus.”

“Good. I do not ask for more.”

They stayed like this, intertwined in pleasure until the first rays of sun peeked through the top of the lagoon. At some point, in the silence of the thousand unspoken promises, she fell asleep, cuddled on his chest. He dared not to move, not to disturb her peace. On the back of her neck, a dark mark bloomed, a little four-pointed star.

And Morpheus thought. About life, meaning and love. About his siblings, about tomorrow.

Death’s senses tingled deep in the concrete jungle of New York.

“My Lady Death,” the Grim Reaper, protector of Death’s scrolls, appeared in the tiny two-bedroom apartment. “I have come with news.”

“I felt it.” she smiled, tightening the laces of her boots.

“What should I do with the record?” the skeleton figure inquired.

“The Dreaming has a bride. She belongs to me no more.” Death shrugged. “Oh, actually Reaper!”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Burn it.”

“As you command, my Lady.”

Death’s love and bias could never be understood by a simple soul. She kept to herself. Still, a little smile creeped on her face.

Death was content.

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awideplace · 1 year

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Children of God do not always find it smooth sailing to heaven. Even in the good bark of Christ-crucified there are storms. Christ may be in the vessel, but he may be asleep, and the ship may be tossed with the tempest. I shall describe with great brevity what I believe to be with some Christians a frequent experience:

The light of God’s countenance is taken away from us. We were sitting yesterday at the banquet of wine with Christ, with his banner of love waving over us, and now to-day we cry, "He hath brought me into darkness, not into light! He hath turned against me his fierce anger! Oh, that I knew where I might find him that I might come even to his feet, for, truly, he is turned against me and he smites me with a heavy hand!" [Ref. Lamentations 3 & Job 23] At such seasons it will happen that our graces will refuse to act. Like some flowers that shut up their cups when the sun is gone, so will our love and our faith shut themselves up. They are reflectors, when there is no light without they cannot reflect any within. I have known what it is to search my heart through and through...ay, and to bring my soul to the closest investigation, with diligent enquiry asking, “Is this faith, or is it presumption? Is it really trusting in Christ, or is it all a fond persuasion of my own, an unwarranted confidence, a false security?”

At such times you may rest assured that the devil will cast in suggestions to torment us. He is an old coward: he always strikes the saints when they are down. I only wish he would meet me on some sunny day when my faith is strong and Christ is with me, I would give him a wound or two for himself! But, alas, he comes on us in the dark, when we have been slipping and tumbling down about in that Valley of Humiliation, where we are afraid of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and there he stands right in the way and swears that he will spill our soul’s blood, but farther on the road to heaven we shall never go; and then, if Satan comes, and his tyrannical voice is heard, the dogs that erst did lay quiet within our soul begin to howl, and the corruptions that we almost thought dead and buried suddenly lift their heads. Seems it not as though the fountains of the great deep were broken up, and a very Noah’s flood, a mighty deluge breaks forth to inundate even the mountains of our last hope, till we seem to have no chance of escape and the soul is ready to die. Perhaps at this moment we turn to the word of God: and it seems all a blank. The very promises that used to cheer us refuse to speak to us. We go where the saints of God go to hear the gospel, but we find no comfort there. The word appears to condemn rather than console us.

At that very minute we are assailed with some temporal trouble, and when spiritual trouble and temporal trouble come together and two seas meet — ah, it is hard for the poor bark to keep above the water at all. Yet have we known it so. A wild deliriousness has seized us. At the same time there has been this horrible thought, “After all may I not have been deluded?” and Satan howls out, “Why, of course you were! You are no child of God” and the flesh prevails awhile over the spirit, and conscience itself becomes a tormentor, upbraids and accuses us; then alas! for our poor vessel— it seems as if all hope that we should be saved were utterly taken away.

Well, but cannot we turn to prayer at such times as that? Yes, brethren, and that is the only thing we can do; and perhaps the only prayer we can get at then is a groan or a sigh, and it is a thousand mercies that if we cannot pray we can groan, or, if we cannot get to a groan, we can breathe, and our very breath of desire is accepted of God. When we are so down in the dust, so crushed, and broken, and bruised, that we could not put half-a-dozen sentences together, and would not dare to utter even one as children of God, we may still come as sinners and say, “Lord receive a poor worm of the dust, and if I never was thy child yet, make me one now. Take me just as I am! I come to thee just as I thought I did before, and, sink or swim, I rest my guilty soul on Christ.”

Now, why I have introduced this at all is just this. There are many young believers who get into such a squall, and do not know what to make of it. They say, “Why, had I been a child of God I could not have drifted into this frightful tempest.” How sayest thou so? Did not David go through it? He said, “All thy waves and thy billows have gone over me.” You must be very little acquainted with the history of the people of God if you think that they are strangers to these conflicts. There are some old mariners here that I could call up into the pulpit, if it were needed, to tell you that they have done business on great waters many years, and they have encountered many storms. You cannot expect to be upon these seas and not have tossings to and fro sometimes. The strongest faith that ever was in this world has sometimes faltered. Even Abraham had times when his faith was exceeding weak, though, indeed, at other times it staggered not at the promise through unbelief. David was a great man in battle, but he waxed faint, and had like to have been slain. So you will and the bravest of God's servants have their times when it is hard to hold their own; when they would be glad to creep into a mouse-hole, if they could there find themselves a shelter.

But this is the point, dear brothers and sisters— no soul that rests in Jesus will ever be wrecked. You may have the tempests and tossings, but you will come to land; be sure of that. Now, Christ is in the same boat with all his people. If one of his members can perish, he must perish too. “Strong language!” say you. Well, it is all in that verse— “Because I live ye shall live also.” You know, if you have got a man and you put him in the water, as long as his head is above the water you cannot drown him. There are his feet down in the mud; they will not drown, and he cannot drown. There are his hands in the cold stream; the hands are not drowned, cannot be, because his head is all safe. Now, look at our glorious Head. See where he is exalted in the highest heavens, at the right hand of the Father. The devil cannot drown me, and cannot drown you if you are a member of Christ’s body, because your Head is safe. Your Head is safe, and you are safe too. Rest you in this; that your faith may be shaken, but it cannot be destroyed.

Charles Spurgeon

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sissytobitch10seconds · 1 year

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The Darkness

Fandom: Once Upon a Time Summary: He made her this way. Warnings: Dark romance, implied sexual content, and dark one typical shenanigans Word Count: 835 Ship(s): Rumpelstiltskin | Mr. Gold/Emma Swan

Archive link!

A/N: If you're wondering why I wrote this, you should blame one of my mutuals (@therulerofallpotatos)for putting this ship in my head when I already had brainrot for OUAT lol. I hope that you guys enjoy because I might be writing more of this soon! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

He made her this way.

Hundreds of years ago, he had tried to do the right thing for the woman that he had loved back then. He had hurt and betrayed her more times than he could count and he had wanted to make sure that she had something, but then others had done actions to bring him back. It had resulted in a twisted tail of backstabbing and hurt that both of them would carry with them forever, now.

Rumplestilskin had lost Belle many, many years ago. He had lost her when he had cruelly ripped her away from her family instead of simply using his powers to disappear the ogres the same way that he had when his son had been taken. He had never really had her, because she had never loved him the way that he was. She had always been looking for some tiny part of him that she could drag out and forge into what she pleased. He had never been the image that she had been hoping for and it was unlikely that he ever would have been, even if he had pursued it.

Yet, in that moment he had given up everything that he was and could ever be to try and prove that he had loved her. He had earned a redemption through the sacrifice that he had made for both her and for his son. Then they had both done the unthinkable and brought him back, ruining everything that he had worked so hard to give himself.

Another undying life was forced upon him, the darkness had wormed itself so far into his soul that there was no way it was ever going to leave him. He held it with him even if he was not the True Dark One, the one that held their name on the dagger forged from the tip of Excalibur. That title belonged to the woman who truly had worked to make him a better version of himself, Emma Swan.

She had been part of his plan from the very beginning. He had known that she was going to be beautiful, resilient, fierce, all the things that her heroic parents were. He wasn’t counting on her pushing and pulling him in exactly the way that he needed until he felt caught in her web. It didn’t feel like a trick, like she was trying to make him become something other than a coward that lusted after power with every breath he took, not the same way that it had will Belle. Instead it was her using him as her own weapon, which made the very fiber of his being sing with want and need for her.

He hadn’t wanted to pollute her with the same kind of darkness that he had. Despite the desperation that his heart had for her, he had chosen instead to help her make the light inside of her flourish. He was happy to continue trying to chase after the woman that could never and would never truly love him while she became the hero he had always planned for her to be. But then she had chosen a route that none of them had ever anticipated, taking the darkness into herself.

Something had happened, when the shadow version of his Dark One self was helping her learn how to control her own powers all while she futilely gripped onto the light he had encouraged her towards. Hundreds of years after that happened, he wished that he hadn’t. It might have been easier for her to make the transition, might have eased some of her pain, if he hadn’t pushed her in one direction in the first place.

Still, Emma had become the Dark One after him. She took to the darkness and the power well. She directed herself much in the same way that she had directed him. She leaned how to make decisions that other people could not, to help protect them in ways that they couldn’t understand. The darkness had somehow made her more beautiful than he ever thought she could be before.

He noticed the beauty in the moments that she raised kingdoms that had dared to cross her own, in the way that she struck down the members of her war table that dared to doubt her endless wisdom in her judgment. He also noticed it in the moments that they shared in their endless life together. The way that she would wrap her arms around his torso and pull him into her when she decided that he had been working on his contracts for too long. The way that she would pick at her food when she had ordered something she didn’t like until he magicked it into her favorite. The way that she brushed her fingers over his forehead to remove the hair after she had finished worshiping him as if he were her god instead of her being his goddess.

She was beautiful, divine, and so wondrously dark.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #once upon a time #ouat #emma swan #rumplestiltskin #mr gold #goldswan

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gale-gentlepenguin · 2 years

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Gale Reviews: Sonic Prime: Episode 7 It Takes One to No Place

Spoilers below

-Okay so its showing use what happened to Shadow once the prism broke

-Shadow used Chaos Control

-Shadow ended up trapped in Shatter space. and Blamed Sonic

-Okay back to New Yoke

-Sonic sees the mother ship

-Shadow telling sonic to hurry

-But it warped him to Another world

-Sonic is panicing over water lol

Sonic hates water XD

-Ooo Pirate themed outfit

-PIRATE ROUGE, TAILS AND AMY

-”Old crew?”

-Amy at least goes by rose

-Ooo Pirate theme! Catchy

-Pirate tails, got an extendo arm

-Tails comments that Sonic could be useful

-Sonic hates swimming

-”I love captains.”

-That is a cool ship

-Sonic showed them he is fast at rowwing

-Big be snoozing

-KNUCKLES! Captain

-Oh he goes by Dred, and he looks SO COOL

-Oh Pixel memory!

-Remembering Knuckles memory

-I like the 32 bit segments

-I just realized Sonic hasnt eaten since he been world hopping

-Dred is actually friendly.

-Well aint that festive

-”You are officially my favorite Knuckles ever”

-Chilli dogs!

-”Its actually a Seadog” “Whats it made of” “Dont ask”

-Sonic cries from happiness

-The shriek he made was beautiful

-New meme template

-So Pirate Amy is Black Rose

-So rouge is called Battin I think

-Dred is like “My man, you need a vacation.”

-LIMBO CONTEST

-Sonic was gonna protest, but he realized he has no where to go since... Ocean

-Glad he can get a break

-Sonic almost went overboard

-So the No Place is a flooded Green Hill.

-Dread seems to not take anything seriously. Even the crew seems done with it

-Sonic explains he needs to find a shard. And the crew sounds excited about it

-The devil’s light house. But they dont speak about it

-Treasure brings only brings pain

-Oh snap enemy pirates!

-Old Crew ready to attack... again (What did Dread do?)

-Oh He is hiding. Well he seems to be a coward. I wonder what happened

-Sonic fights the other pirates

-Sonic is so theatrical

-Sonic proceeds to beat them with a cannon

-Sonic learns the shoes are Hover shoes. (Bet he aint making fun of shadow now lol)

-The crew is fighting back now

-Dread still isnt

-Rose was ONE HUNDRED PERCENT GOING TO KILL THEM

-But sonic talked her out of it

-Rose making sonic her captain :3

-They prefer sonic as captain.

-Dred gives in and tells rose to tell sonic about the “Incident”

-Knuckles the Dread use to be a badass

-Tails pirate is called Sails (Lol)

-So the Devil’s lighthouse is a gem

-The crew begged him to turn back,

-”The crew thought i lost my marbles” “Capt’n you lost your marbles”

-So Knuckles wrecked his ship over it and after that the crew left him

-So thats why he is a coward now

-Sails asked to look at his boots and Sonic remembered he can find the shard with them

-Knuckles just accepts it because he is a coward now

-So Sonic is the captain now

-Oh its a submarine!!!

-Its RUSTY ROSE!

-tHEY INVADED PIRATE WORLD!!!

________________________________________________________________

8,5/10

The bits had me laughing and I enjoyed pirate world

Also the reveal of Rusty Rose makes things more intense

#sonic prime #gale reviews

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kats-chaotic-wonderland · 9 months

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The Black Horror

This is something of a tone intro to my Warhammer series. This is set a generation before the main set of characters, and done from the view of a black templar astartes. It's a fun little one shot to give everyone a peek into Wonder. Please enjoy.

Black Templar’s Recon Patrol:

Alpha Squad:

-Brother Toril

-Brother Iveran

-Brother Bastalan

-Brother Sorbis

-Brother Grimsol

Gamma Squad:

-Brother Seldsar

-Brother Barrin

-Brother Hordac

-Brother Tiberius

-Brother Ferris

The hull of the Forged Valorance emerged from the warp slowly as its stern faced ahead to a long since forgotten world. We emerged with no activity from the warp or the countless abominations that call such a wretched hive home. Truly, the Emperor Protects. I hear the Voxx comms come on in both the ship and my headset, it was time.

I make my way towards the bridge, where I am met with ten of my brothers, including the chaplain who oversees all of the crusaders, myself included, aboard this vessel. His arms are folded over his chest, he is not pleased.

The woman next to him goes only by the name of Kastella, the ships commander, who has earned the respect of many of my brothers, myself included, in her services towards our eternal crusade. What strikes me most is her odd sense of humility. She cares not for the accolades and glories that most under our banner would pursue, instead, she claims to only seek results for the God Emperor. Her eyes lock with mine; even with my helmet, it is as if she can stare past my red-tinted lenses and peer straight into my very being.

“Toril. Approach so that we may begin in earnest.” Her voice is commanding but soft. She knows better than to command an astartes, but she also knows not to display meekness in the presence of our chaplain commander; a thin and rather difficult line to walk.

As I approach, the chaplain speaks up, he unfolds his arms, and we can see the name embossed onto his right pauldron, Sartorias.

“This planet was called Docaroll, once, but that time has passed.” The console in front of us illuminates the room in a soft green glow as information spills over our displays. “Something foul has stained its surface. We have isolated one of the sources to what we believe is a spire of some kind. In its shadow is what appears to be a dwelling place, perhaps a small outpost from the days before the Great Scouring. It is unlikely anyone still remains down there, but it will make for a suitable landing zone and foothold for our operations here.” He looks up from the screen to myself and brother Tiberius, the other sergeant overseeing the squads to be sent to the surface. “Toril, you will be securing the spire. Tiberius, the settlement. Once both sites are secure, Toril will reunite with you, and you will safeguard the landing zone for the storm hawks to retrieve you as well as supply the outpost with a fresh rotation of steel legion to hold it.”

“How far apart are the two objectives, brother?” I ask, curious as to how long we will be without support while in the dense, jungle foliage.

“Half a day’s march.” Sartorias replies.

I sigh internally. I am no coward, nor do I abhor my duties, but I believe these missions to be better suited the Milistratum or the Mechanicus, not for the crusaders of the Black Templars. But I am no fool, to disdain these plans in front of my brothers and my superior would ruin myself. Limited to be forever a sergeant, never allowed to pursue the ranks of veteran or captain. So I hold my tongue, content to let my irritation boil into anger that may be used against our enemies.

“You are dismissed.” Sartorias waves us off as if we are nothing to him, such is the way of a chaplain though. We are brothers to him still, and he watches over us to observe our faith and test our mettle, but it is too easy to fall into the realm of coddling, which breaks the strength our chapter, and our crusade.

I nod to him and return to the hangar and ready my equipment. A simple load out of a chainsword, my preferred weapon, with a bolt pistol, both chained against my gauntlets; a tradition that inspires my brothers, and strikes fear into our enemies.

I look to my right and see my brothers enter to mimic my ritual, gathering their belongings and readying themselves for the mission.

I ponder them all for a moment: Bastalan, a rigid and proper soldier. Some say he is slow to learn and slow to adapt; I say he is a wall that has weathered enough battles to break any mind, and yet he still stands strong. Sorbis, a young pup of a lad, his heart burns with a fire much like mine when I was younger. His eagerness is something to be reigned in from time to time, but when we are surrounded by our enemies, his blade is usually first to clear us a path. Iveran is a more complicated case, he does not speak unless absolutely necessary, and is one of the few Templars who prefers the kill of a bolter round piercing through our enemies chest rather than the roar of our blades. Still, as one who is allowed to carry the weight and the burden of a storm bolter, it is a sight to see him cut down a horde of green-skins, or to see the cowardly heretics of the gene stealers turn tail and run at the mere sound of his weapon roaring with life. Lastly, there is Grimsol, the most mysterious of our brothers. One look at that silver and robotic left arm of his says it all though, a survivor of a deathwatch kill team returned to the fold where he came from. I thought that upon his return, he would be more secluded than ever, after witnessing the atrocities of what the tyrannids were capable of, but he was, contrarily, more open than ever. Apparently working with the other chapters, particularly the descendants of Volkan, will make you much more talkative. I do not mind, in truth, for his attitude allows us to hold some small anchor of humanity within us.

Again, the alerts goes off, signaling us that it is time to depart. We ready ourselves in our pod as the airlock closes around us. Dropping a tomb from orbit, that is what I described this machine as whenever I first entered one. Now, I find the tight spaces of the pod surrounded by my brothers to be much more comforting. For if I am to die in one of these, what better way to die than as a ball of fire, surrounded by the people who are closest to you. Then I feel it, the gentle push down as our pod is set into place, followed by a crack like thunder as we are, once again, ejected from our home, and out into the hellfire of a galaxy at war.

Once more into the Frey.

Down on the planet, inside a glittering castle of white diamond, heels clacked on the patterned black and white tiles of the palace floor. Two women walking side by side, but their positions placing them world's apart.

"Genevieve, why are we bothering." The younger woman, petite with flowing back hair contrasting her pale skin, sighed boredly. No older than eighteen, but a crown upon her head. She walked beside a woman five years her senior.

Pure white and slender, Genevieve smiled softly. Giving the young queen a kind look. "We should at least try to end this fighting, our cards and chessmen can only do so much."

"she will never agree. It's a foolish venture, no queen will concede land to another, nor power, nor people." The younger sighed

"but perhaps we can agree without trade." Genevieve smiled hopefully as she looked ahead of them.

"Doubtful." The other shook her head,"but I suppose I shall attend your tea party."

"Excellent!" Genevieve cheered and clapped softly,"I shall make arrangements and send invitations."

Shaking her head the darker woman headed towards the door,"Enjoy yourself. I'm taking a walk."

"I shall send the invitation to your men." Genevieve smiled and waved as she watched the girl leave.

Miles away as the templars hit the surface, the flowers around them began to whisper.

As the pod doors opened, my eyes took a moment to adjust to my surroundings. This place, this planet, it was indeed cursed. Twisting plants and vines swirled around each other like two predators constricting the life out of each other. Bright colors that seemed to move and flicker across my eyes obstructed my visions. I have seen all such manners of warp infections, but this place, it was different. I believe the only word capable of describing it is… ‘wrong’.

My brothers disembarked soon enough and began to secure the perimeter as we awaited contact from Brother Tiberius and his squad, but it never came. Seeing no other option but to press forward, I find the tip of the gleaming spire and motion for my brothers to take point. Iveran takes point, his storm bolter readied and leveled as his focus takes him over. I admire his discipline for a moment before following behind him. Sorbis remains close to my side, staying mostly in my blind spot in order to flank any enemy foolish enough to charge us directly. Bastalan stands behind me, a line in the sand, a bulwark against the xenos and the heretic. This leaves Grimsol behind us, his eyes scan the sides of our progress, ensuring we do not walk into a trap. We press on.

As we step away from the drop pods there is a soft slithering sound from behind. Vines wrapped around the pod, whispering as they pulled it below the soil. The entire process near silent as it happened, save for the soft whispering of the plant life.

Grimsol turns and begins to open fire at the ground. It holds little effect. I give the order to continue push on. The jungles dense flora surprises us further as we seem to stumble across trees and vines that had not been there mere moments ago. Flowers with faces watch us curiously as we continue on.

I notice the vegetation as my nerves wind themselves up. Grimsol comes up next to me and leveled a flamer to them, “Chaos infects this world, brother. We may be already too late.” He sprays liquid fire over them as the screams were quenched by the flame.

"Now that was rude!" A daffodil cries out.

"bloody horrible bastards!" Chirps a violet.

"Why don't you go trample someone else's garden will those ugly suits!" A dandelion spits as it tosses a rock at us. No flower comes above our shins, but they all swoear and cry violence at the intrusion in their garden.

I pay no attention to them as Bastalan continues to rain fire upon them. As quickly as the flora was scorched, it returned in force with more shrill swears.

“Their numbers are endless, brother!”

“Push forward to the spire!” I command.

Sorbis takes the lead now, his speed outmatches any of our own, and his combative skills in an ambush have saved us countless times. He will cleave us a path. Nothing tried to cut off our movement as we carved a way through the foliage. This place was odd, but for all we saw, nothing was effectively hostile.

My steps grow faster as we reach the edge of the forest to arrive at a clearing. My thoughts dwell on how this once proud planet could flee so far from reality. The warp strikes against it like a river against stone. We pause for a moment to gather our surroundings.

This does nothing to settle me, for the spire’s nature is known to myself and to Grimsol from his time in the Deathwatch. A necron tomb. The glowing green runes indicate minimal operations.

“We cannot risk our communications activating the tomb, brother.” Iveran points out.

“No. We cannot.” I reply, “Mark it for orbital bombardment. We will have to make do with what the village outpost has.”

“Tiberius should have taken the outpost by now. Perhaps some inkling of power still remains.” Grimsol offers. His positivity is a small comfort in these dark times.

“We will see. For now, clear the first floor of necrons, and prepare to seal the entrance. This monument to heresy is called a tomb. We will ensure the nature of its name.”

As we speak, the flowers whisper at the sound of footsteps.

After a moment of deliberation, a pink creature stepped out from the brush and looked towards us.

“No.” I hear Iveran whisper as he levels his weapon to the creature.

I turn to see what I already suspect to be true. A tyrannid, a lone scout, there must be more somewhere.

“This world truly is lost to us.” I feel my rage begin to take hold of me as I charge forward with blinding speed. With my free hand, I grab the beast by it’s throat and hoist it off of its feet. It’s struggling gasps for air and freedom yield nothing as I feel the pounding of my hearts ringing in my ears. I do not offer this beast a quick death, instead, I simply wait for whatever life fills the creature to slip from its lungs one last time.

As the creature goes limp there is a wave of whispers from the flowers around us.

I look back to see Sorbis and Bastalan setting melta-charges along the entrance of the tomb, that will slow them down for a month or so, long enough for us to rendevous with the rest of our strike fleet and bombard the planet. Grimsol approaches and nods to me, “Docaroll has broken its ties to the God Emperor’s safety, so let us now reunite it in his wrath. We should reconvene with Tiberius and move on.”

As we speak, soft footsteps approach behind us.

We all turn with leveled weapons at the sound of the footsteps.

A man, human, in a bright colorful suit. Complete with a cane, and a large top hat on his messy curled fluff of red hair. "well now," he said curiously looking up at us all, his eyes bright green with flecks of gold and streaks of blue,"What are you fine fellows?"

“Hold. Who are you and where do your loyalties lie?” I demand him speak. If he does not satisfy, I will have him killed.

He pauses, then seemes to ponder the question as he leans lazily on his cane,"Well...my name is Ryne Hattigan." He shrugged,"As for loyalty, I'm self employed." Then he seems to give us each a once over,"You however seem like you would serve the black queen. But that's just an assumption."

“We serve only the God-Emperor of Mankind. Who is this princess of yours? I would speak with the ruling body of this world.” Sorbis grows uneasy from this new character.

"Queen chap," he corrects, "No princesses here. Only queens and courts." He straightens himself and twirls his cane with a flourish,"knowing that kid, bout now she's in the village filling up on sugar and a cup of tea."

“You do not serve the Emperor or the Imperium then?”

"I have no idea what that is." He shrugs with a casual air that irks me more than it rightly should.

“How long have you been here?” I ask. I am prepared to execute this heretic, but I first wish to know more information about this planet.

"Born and raised here." He shrugs yet again, earning my ire.

“In years… human.” My tone grows more sour as I consider simply killing him now and moving towards the village.

He raised an eyebrow, “Twenty seven this fall, why?"

“Kill him.” I speak.

My brothers unload their bolsters into the character as I turn to the spire and detonate the charges over it’s entrance. Exterminatus is the only option left to this world.

As the fire fades and the dust settles, the man brushes himself off. "Well now that was rude." A pair of necron amalgamations, no larger than a man, sit collapsed between him and the bolters.

“What heresy is this?” I mutter to myself.

Sorbis let’s his anger take hold again as he charges forward with breaking speed as his sword is removed and brought down hard against the man.

The man blocks it with his cane and looks at Sorbis disappointed,"tsk tsk tsk, is this how your emperor teaches you to treat locals? How crass. I can't say I'm impressed." He side steps and lets the blade cut into the ground. We can now see his cane was part of some ancient necron creation. Not easily broken.

Grimsol rushes to flank him, his own blade ripping down hard against the cane, holding it there while Sorbis recovers himself and takes another swipe.

The blade strikes him, ripping him to shreds.

Grimsol and Sorbis both nod to each other as they return. Their teamwork and cohesion pleases me. As one who is a veteran of the chapter, and a young pup, barely thirty years into our chapter, to see them move like two halves of the same mind makes me smile.

The man's body falls limply into a bloody pile as we step away. The flowers going silent. I welcome the quiet. I turn and make my way back into that accursed forest, towards Brother Tiberius and his squad who should be securing the village.

After a while of walking I notice we suddenly had one extra person walking along with us. I spun to see who is attempting to stalk us, blade drawn again.

I am met with the hatter again,"Now you really are just being rude." He once again sighs, his arrogance boiling my blood. My blade plunged into him again, dropping his body. Iveran approaches with the flamer, looking for my approval. I nod, and the heretics body becomes engulfed in cleansing fire.

The ground engulfed the flaming pile, only for us to hear a throat clear behind us a moment later,"If this is how you treat those who offer you hospitality then I worry for the people you keep around."

I waste no time in attacking him again, my anger fueling me ever further to end this fool and his heretical sorceries. Each attack just ends the same, with him appearing somewhere else and making a whitty retort. Obviously this is going nowhere fast.

“Explain your purpose, abomination.” I command.

He frowned,"Now that was just mean. You come into my territory, gut me, and call me names. I only had the intention of talking, maybe lending a hand. But you gentlemen are just insufferably rude."

“We are not here on pleasantries, filth.” I growl, “The only pleasant thing this far on this planet is that I am able to kill you a thousand times.”

"Well, glad I can oblige." He rolls his eyes. I have had enough of him, and so turn to the others and motion them ahead. We turn our backs to him and head for the outpost. He seems to get bored and wander off after a moment.

“Brother? Why not kill that heretic?” Sorbis asks.

“We Templars do not know the meaning of retreat, Sorbis, but there is no dishonor in sacrificing one personal kill to complete our mission. Once we are returned to the Valorance, orbital bombardments will ensure that his tomb remains just that, a tomb.”

We soon find ourselves crossing onto a well worn road.

“Signs of life, at least.” I think aloud before attempting to signal brother Tiberius at the outpost. Our Auxspecs are quiet. Even this far in, we still do not receive a signal.

Several small animals, all rather colorful and fluffy are watching us in the trees, but make little motion. The fauna do not strike my interest as we press on.

We arrive shortly, entering a small colorful village. Massive mushrooms and tea cups, saucers and cutlery, all mixed into the small idyllic buildings. The colors are bright and everywhere. Scattered patterns and murals cover the walls. From what we can see, all the townsfolk had locked themselves indoors.

I give the order, “Spread out. Search for the other squad. Do not deal with locals unless they try to stop you.”

“And if they try to stop us?” Bastalan asks.

“Kill them.” I step forward and begin my search.

The streets are winding, all seemingly made at random in spirals and curls. None of the locals step out. They seem to know to stay inside.

“What is this place?” I hear Iveran speak over our comm channel.

“Cursed beyond measure, beyond hope.” Grimsol replies. He is correct.

I push further into the town center, hoping to find some sort of semblance of our brothers.

In the center is a market Bazar covered in colorful wares. In the middle of the bazar is a square. The patterned flagstones lined by instruments, artist easels, and other things from the townsfolk. This place was busy and eventful before the Astartes arrival.

As I step into the center and notice a child's doll lying my feet. Hair of colorful yarn, green buttons for eyes, and clothes made of patches all topped with a goofy purple top hat. I take a moment to ponder the life that must go on here. Images of the picts of Baal briefly lap at my thoughts. The Blood Angels Homeworld was like this, once, millennia ago, before the powers of the warp divided our worlds. It won’t be long now, before this world too, suffers a similar fate. I attempt to hail brother Tiberius once more, but with no effect. As I stop to ponder, again soft footsteps approached me. This time though, the feet sound bare against the flagstone.

I turn around with weapon ready, I suspect one of the locals. Turning, I am met with a young girl. Looking no older than fourteen, raven hair, pale skin, violet eyes that speak of darkness and death look up at me. Her dress is to her ankles, black and adorned with accents of lace. She looks at me blankly, fearless.

I take in her features for a moment. It has been a long time since I’ve been forced to interact with humans in normal society.

“Greetings, I am Toril, sergeant astartes to the Black Templars.”

She tilts her head,"Hello." Her voice soft like the whisper of wind through the silence of a graveyard.

“Have you seen others like me here? I need to reunite with my brothers.”

She nods and points towards a far street.

“My thanks.” I nod and turn to face the street before walking that way.

The soft footsteps followed me. I spin around again to see the child following me.

“I no longer require you presence. Depart from me.” I am careful to not seem cruel, but I cannot have a child slowing me down.

She just looked up at me, curiosity bleeding into the bored look.

“What is your name, child.” I ask.

She tilts her head,"Mira."

“Mira. Where is everyone else in your village?”

"Hiding." She seems to shrug, though she barely moves.

“Hiding from us?” I nod, “Not the expectation I had hoped to establish with survivors here, but it is well enough.”

"I didn't say it was because of you." She tilt/ her head, to the other side this time. The curiosity in her eyes is not like a child inspecting a new discovery, but like that of a predator, sizing up another encounter.

“Who else would they be hiding from, aside from the necron fool?” My suspicions are raised again.

She lets out an unsettling giggle,"They're not hiding from Hatter."

“Hatter? You have a name for it?” My confusion is escalated by the rather familiar tone this child is taking.

"why wouldn't I?" She looks amused,"Everyone has a name, his is Hatter."

“You interact with him?” My weapon shifts slowly in my hand, “I need to know if you have.”

"Would you kill me if I did?" She smiles unsettlingly

“Much of this world is corrupted child, and I have an oath to end such corruption that poses a threat to the imperium.”

"The what?" She tilted her head again, looking a bit perplexed.

“Your world lost contact millennia ago. I do not expect you to know everything, child.”

"Child?" She giggled again,"You don't know anything about us either do you?"

“Do you not understand what ‘lost contact for millennia implies?” My tone grows a bit more terse with her.

"I do," she smiled,"But you don't seem to realize what that means for you."

“It means what it always does.” Her smile makes me feel uneasy. “I am to determine whether or not this world and its resources are worth saving, or if the touch of chaos has warped it beyond all hope.”

Her smile faded,"Saving this world? That means you would destroy it doesn't it."

“Would you allow a disease that festers in your body to continue?” I ask.

"are we a part of the body? Or a separate creature." She asked rather bluntly

“This planet is part of the Imperium. So you are part of the body currently. However, there are several influences on world that will need to be dealt with.”

"It seems that we've long since been removed and become something new." She shook her head,"What right have you to destroy a peaceful place?"

“New is not always bad. So long as this world is not a threat to mankind, it will endure.”

"We have no interest in your imperium." She states with an authority that one would not think a child to have.

“For the sake of your world, I would advise you reconsider, little one.”

"Would you destroy us otherwise?"

“If that is what is required of me.” I nod.

"So we lose everything either way." She shakes her head looking a bit disappointed.

“No.” I shake my head, “You have everything to gain.”

"Such as?"

“There are things in the spaces between the stars, things capable of destroying worlds in an instant. We are able to protect and defend against such threats.”

"And yet we've been safe without you for this long."

“And you can guarantee the protection of these people?”

"the queens will bow to no man." She shakes her head again,"Our world has been safe for centuries."

“And it will only take one event to destroy it.” I look around me again, “but that is not my place to decide. I must find my brothers.”

She just shrugs,"Then go find them. I'm not stopping you."

“I doubt you could.” I turn to find my brothers, troubled by the child’s mind.

Sh doesn’t follow, and none of the townspeople come out. As I walk, I hear the familiar sound of ceramite armor scraping against stone. I hurry with all haste to discover the source, praying to the holy emperor that it was one of my brothers, and not a traitor turned to chaos.

One of my squad was stumbling between buildings towards a small courtyard.

I pause for a moment as this was an unusual sight. A crusader of the black cross stumbling forwards like drunken rabble was almost upsetting to the eyes. My blood boils for only a moment as I surpress my personal distaste for his posture to ascertain why he is presented this way. His shoulder pads are all I need to see to recognize my brother.

“Brother Selsdar!” I cry out, “Explain yourself and this situation? You appear to have stumbled from a fight, yet I see no wounds on your armor, nor a weapon in hand. Explain, brother!”

He stops, and slowly turns. His voice comes out at a high pitch as he cackles madly. But he says nothing before he turns and continues his drunken fumbling.

“What foul sorcery has poisoned your mind?” I call out again, this time taking several more steps forward, readying my bolter on one hand in case he attempts anything. There is no response, just more laughter as he turns a corner. I pursue brother Selsdar, readying my weapon. Steeling myself. I know what will most likely happen, if my brother cannot be returned the the Emporer’s Light, then he must be granted His peace. My weapon is ready as I turn the corner and call out to him one last time.

The sight that greets me is worse than I'd thought. The rest of my brothers surround the girl from before, all laughing and speaking complete nonsense.

“The dark gods of chaos have claimed them, brother.” Bastalan speaks from behind me as I hear the click of his flamer being primed, “There is nothing left.”

The girl looks to them, then turns to me, making eye contact with me and sending an uncomfortable chill through my spine. The chill holds me for only a moment. My suspicions of this child were correct. I should have destroyed her when I had the chance, another regret I will bear while we raze this planet.

My other brothers approach me as well, the stance that I hold with brother Bastalan informs them of the only details warriors of our caliber need. I stare at what is left of my brothers one last time, committing their heroism to bravery before giving the order, “Burn them.”

Bastalan’s flamer roars to life as a torrent of righteous fire spreads over them all, then to the buildings. My brothers and I move from entrance to entrance, kicking the doors open and purging any heretic we discover. There is no time for questions or maybes, for if a squad of the greatest astartes to ever be sired could not resist the cruel touch of chaos, what hope did these poor souls have. No. Death and fire will be their only salvation.

My complacence turns to rage as I hear it in through the flames around me. My brothers, engulfed in flames… they are laughing. Even while they burn, even as flame rends flesh from bone, chaos will not release their mind. This impudent world, it will all burn. And if I am to die here, so be it, let it ALL burn in the God Emperor’s holy light.

The corrupt marines moved quickly, half ignoring the fight and pulling the civilians out of danger. The other half fighting back their brothers and taking any openings. They no longer fought with their trained honor.

“Heretics.” I mutter as I rush Ferris, or rather, the thing that took his place. My knife slams into his side, they fight dirty, aiming for our exposed regions, but they have now lost their discipline.

I watch as Hordac takes a blow from one of his brothers in order to protect a child that had been pulled from his home. They no longer fight with honor, but have chosen something else.

As he stands over the child, the girl moves to pick the boy up and take him to safety. The flames almost seeming to bend around her as she steps.

I see it now. She uses my brothers bodies to save her subjects while we are forced to destroy each other. I feel something snap in me as I watch the girl flee. My bolter is leveled at her as I take a shot, aiming for her head.

Time seems to slow as the bolt fires. I watch as it flies true to it's mark, aimed for a fatal blow. But before it could touch her, the bullet just crumbled to dust.

“Emperor’s Blade.” I curse. So be it, they cannot save them all.” I pull a krak grenade from by pack and toss it into one of the nearby hovels.

“Grimsol!” I hear Bastalan call out, “Kill the traitor brothers. We will finish burning this village.”

She hands the boy off to a woman who flees. Then the girl turns her attention towards the remaining men.

The corrupted are all locked in combat as they engage those trying to destroy the village, but she walks calmly past them, towards me.

I am challenged by this creature, this abomination, so be it. I set my bolter aside and draw my blade, accepting her call. The engine roars to life as I charge at her.

She stops and simply watches as I near.

I raise my blade high and rush to bring it down on her. My thoughts begin to swirl as I stare at her. Her eyes Pierce through my ceramite plating as if it were made of weakened flesh. People only cease fleeing for two reasons. The first, they simply do not wish to die tired. The second, is they do not NEED to run.

The closer I come the more the odd pressure in the air bares down on me. And by the time I reach her I was forced to kneel.

What is this? My legs have stopped. Should they be moving? My purpose. My mission, what was it? I remember… a figure. An Emperor? That doesn’t sound right, but something… someone. With authority. I am angry. Why? Am I supposed to be angry? What else would I be? What else could I be. My vision fades in and out. The cobblestone beneath me. It looks cold. But there’s fire? Can fire be cold? I supppose it can be. If I can be angry without purpose, fire can be cold without purpose. I have a sword in my hand, an instrument of war. Is that why I am filled with rage, am I at war? Who would I be at war with? Who am I warring for? Not myself. I see no need to enter a war. Then what am I to do? Question. Always question. Never answers.

My minds reeling is disrupted as a girl crouching down looks at me. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she watches me with both curious and utterly bored eyes at the same time.

“Who… are you?” I know her face from somewhere, like a dream from long ago.

"Mira." She says softly, her lips twisting into a soft smile.

“I don’t know that name, but I recognize your face.” I stand to my feet slowly, “Where am I?”

"Wonder." She says, standing with him,"You finally have your wits about you."

“I do not believe that to be true.” I take in my surroundings, noticing the others men in suits. My brothers? That term sounds right, though I am not sure why.

"It's more true than you realize." She chuckles.

“I will take your word for it.” I nod and look around to the village that is still reeling from flames, “Should we help these people?”

"If you would like, I've been helping them with your brothers." She nods, gesturing to the other men like me.

“My brothers?” I look around to the armored men in front of me, “These are my brothers?”

"Indeed.” she nods, “Though some are still asleep. When they wake up they'll help fix the town."

“Good.” I nod, “Then what are you to me?” I look down to this child. I dwarf her by at least four feet, yet of the two of us, I sense she is the one with the commanding presence.

"I would hope a friend." She shrugs.

“A friend?” That word strikes twisted in my ears. Have I ever had a friend before? My brothers? Perhaps. “What should I call you, friend?”

"Mira." She looked at me with a whisper of a smile.

“Yes. Right. Your name. That is your name. So you have said.” I look back up to the skies. Something pulls slightly in the back of my mind. Something up there is calling to me.

She follows my gaze,"It won't come for you. They can't make it here. And even if they could, they would hurt you." She spoke softly, a pained understanding there.

“What can’t?” I look back down to her.

"Whatever you're looking for."

“How do you know they will hurt me if you don’t know what it is that has my attention?”

"Because your brothers did the same, then more came to hurt them."

“My brothers?” I look to the men standing around me.

She nods ,"It is the cycle of things here, I fear."

“I have more than these?” I ask, my curiosity beginning to swell.

She nodded again,"Many more, would you like to meet them?"

“Show me.” I nod.

With a smile, she takes my hand, the enormous metal gauntlet eclipsing hers. And she leads me forward. Words echo in my mind, though I do not know why.

'Once more into the frey.'

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