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erimeows · 3 years

Text

Feverish

You were surprised to have been called to the med bay a little bit past nine in the evening, woken up by your phone ringing and Ratchet on the other end. You clutched your robe close to your body as you raced through the hallway, sleep in your eyes and worries in your head.

The lead medic had given you no explanation, only telling you to come meet him outside of the med bay as soon as you could before he hung up on you.

You wondered if it was an emergency, if someone was injured or dying, if something had happened during patrol- Wait, no. Their night patrols didn’t start for another hour or so, and if it had been an emergency, someone like Bumblebee or Optimus would’ve called you in a panic.

Still, the whole situation was weird, and you were worried, so when you saw Ratchet outside of the med bay leaning against one of the walls, you immediately approached him with your concern etched in your features.

Upon seeing you, Ratchet stood up straight, then put a strong servo on your shoulder in a reassuring manner before looking down at you. His pale blue optics burned into your (e/c) eyes, and though you tried your best, you couldn’t read his expression.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medic spoke.

“Optimus Prime has fallen ill.”

“What?” You immediately sputtered, and your eyes flew to the door of the med bay; closed, you couldn’t even see Optimus. You just prayed that he was okay. In the time that you’d known the Prime and his team, you’d seen him injured or sick plenty, though the former was much more common. He never prioritized his own health and tried to push himself to do things, even when he was unwell, so he took forever to recover... Hopefully it wasn’t something severe. “How bad is it? Is he awake? Have you told the team yet?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. It’s nothing crazy, (y/n), so don’t worry,” Ratchet’s words, said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, soothed you, if only a little. If it were serious or ‘crazy’ as he put it, he would’ve told you directly instead of lying, so you believed him. “This morning, I was the first to wake and go into the kitchen to make myself an energy booster when I saw him stumble in... As in, he was literally stumbling over himself and I could see steam rolling off of him from overheat. He insisted he was fine, but something was off, so I dragged him to the medbay for testing. He’s low on energon and coolant, he was overheating, and there was a minor glitch in his vents from some battle damage that I had to fix. He’s recovering fine, but my main concern is that his chassis seems to be overheating to kill an infection. I think it’s just your run-of-the-mill space bug based on the labs I did, so I gave him some antibiotics.”

“You didn’t answer some of my questions-” You started, now concerned with whether you could actually go and see Optimus or not.

It wasn’t uncommon for the red and blue bot to ignore his own needs, but for him to have ignored symptoms that could’ve turned into something much worse had Ratchet not caught them... You wondered if there was something bothering Optimus that was making him neglect himself, more than he usually would.

“So demanding, you youngin’s,” Ratchet huffed and rolled his optics at you. “It’s not that bad, he’s awake, and no, I haven’t told the others yet. Our nightly patrol is soon and I have to break the news to them somehow, which is why I called you here. You can’t go with us anyway and they need me since we’re down one bot, so I want you to stay with Prime. He responds the best to you...” You blinked and then blushed at that, (s/c) cheeks burning bright. It was true that you and Optimus were close, but for Ratchet to acknowledge it like that... Well, you were flattered. You’d loved Optimus for as long as you could remember, and even though Ratchet surely meant that in a platonic way, it was nice to know that the effort you put into your relationship with the bot meant something. “His condition isn’t from a decline in his physical health- I had to pry like hell to find out what it was, but Prime finally broke and told me that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an energon cube or ran a self-evaluation to make sure he was functioning properly, which is why he’s energy-depleted and why the damage to his vents went unchecked. He’s so stressed from the leadership that this team needs that he isn’t taking care of himself anymore, and now, it’s led to him falling sick again. I think there’s something else going on in that processor of his, too, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else... I just know it’s more mental than anything.”

You stopped, frowning. What else could Optimus be hiding from everyone? Was he doing something dangerous? Had something happened? Was he breaking down from stress?

“O-Oh.. Okay,” You mumbled and leaned into the servo of Ratchet’s that was on your shoulder, sighing when he ran his thumb over a sore spot on the groove between said shoulder and your collar. The two of you had developed a close bond over the past couple years since they’d been on earth, with you, Sari’s tutor and caretaker, also acting as a second medic for the team with Ratchet’s training. While he’d trained you in how to care for the Autobots, you’d given him the basics of human anatomy and medical care, so with that time spent together, you were close- whether the old grump admitted it or not. “What about his medicine? How often does he take it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“One pill every six human hours, they’re the white gel capsules that are rationed out on the table by Prime’s med-berth. I just gave him a dose, so don’t get him another one until three in the morning. He also needs to drink plenty of energon, coolant, and lubricant to get better, so make him do it, even if he gets pissy with you- shove it down his throat if you have to... But those are all things that I already told him, and he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. I don’t need you in there to take care of him so much as I need you to stay in there to make sure he doesn’t get up and do anything stupid. You know how he gets when he’s sick.”

“Unfortunately, I do...” You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. It was going to be hard dealing with Optimus- hell, you could already imagine how he would be trying to sneak out of the med bay to go on patrol or trying to make you bring paperwork for him to do. You wouldn’t allow either, but considering how much larger he was than you, you’d have to convince him to relax instead of just being able to hold his aft down like Ratchet or Bulkhead could. “I’ll make sure he stays put. I’m assuming you’re taking over leadership until he recovers, Ratchet?”

“As the team medic, I’m second in command, so yeah... I have to. I’d let Prowl do it, but Primus knows he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t let Bumblebee or Bulkhead within a ten mile radius of any form of responsibility like this. I’m really the only option.”

“Right...” You imagined what a patrol without Optimus, led by a stressed and grouchy Ratchet would be like, and then cringed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

With that, Ratchet withdrew his servo from your shoulder and waved at you before turning around and walking down the hallway. You figured that Optimus shouldn’t be left alone for too long, so you quickly entered the med bay and shut the door behind you.

It was dark, with a small night light plugged into the walls that illuminated the room just a bit. You could see Optimus, who looked uncharacteristically pathetic, weakly laying on a med berth with a small side table on the ground next to him. On the table were some energon sticks, a cup of coolant, and the white pills that Ratchet had mentioned.

“(y/n), is that you?” Optimus asked, trying to sit up, but immediately groaning in what you assumed was pain and flopping back down. His eyes squeezed shut, a strained grimace taking over his face-plates. You pulled one of the stools by a wall-counter to the side of the room where Optimus’s berth was and put it right by his side table so you could sit by him. You were close to his face, so you leaned down to look at it as his optics slowly opened back.

He was sick, and it would take at least a few days if not a week to recover; you could tell just by looking at him. His ocean-hued optics were abnormally dark and foggy, his powder blue faceplates were stained dark with heat, and though he wasn’t steaming like Ratchet had described this morning, there was definitely still heat radiating from his frame.

“Yes, Optimus, it’s me... I’m here to watch over you,” You leaned in to kiss the top of his helm, able to feel just how hot the metal felt against you. When you pulled back, you frowned at the absurd amount of heat- almost hot enough to make your lips sting, while Optimus’s normal temperature was a bit cooler than that of an average human’s by a degree or two. “Ratchet called me down here and told me what’s going on a bit ago. The team’s on patrol right now.”

“Slag, I can’t believe Ratchet told you,” Optimus groaned again, this time in annoyance instead of pain. “I told him not to earlier when he was fixing my vents... He’s probably going to tell the rest of the team, too. I have to get up and go supervise the patrol-” He forced himself to sit up this time, forced back a wince, forced his optics to open fully, but the second you pressed a rushed hand to his chest plates and attempted to push him back, he froze.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You argued, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as a pout formed on your face.

“Oh, yes I do!” The Autobot argued back without hesitation, but didn’t actually move to push your hand away or leave even though he was fully capable of doing so, only resting one of his servos on the one of yours that was on his chest- stumbling and overheating or not, he was much larger and much stronger than you. Then again, he probably knew that Ratchet would beat him to a pulp the second he recovered if he dared lay a single digit on you to escape the med bay. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t want it nor do I need it, and I certainly don’t want it from my team. It’s bad enough that you know. I know they’ll start asking questions when I don’t go on patrol with them, and if they hear that I got sick from overexerting myself and not getting enough rest and energon, they’ll never let me hear the end of it-”

“Well, maybe that’s what you need, so lay your stubborn ass down! I did not come here with my hair all fucked up and in this stupid robe in the middle of the night when I could’ve been sleeping just to have you run away from me when I’m trying to take care of you! You getting up right now just drives home how bad you are about prioritizing yourself,” Optimus’s plump and normally soft lips, now chapped from dehydration, pulled together into a tight frown- it was the face he made when he knew he was in the wrong. “You’re getting out of your bed when you’re supposed to be resting so you can go lie to your team and tell them you’re fine when you’re not, and for what? Your pride?”

“No, I just don’t want them to worry for me. I’m already stressed out enough and the last thing I need is for that to contribute to their struggles. They’re all dealing with so many of their own problems, and I’m sick of being a burden to everyone around me...”

Optimus huffed, but gave up and laid back down, much to your relief. He still held your hand, though, and you let him- even if he was sick, you didn’t want him to let go.

“You’re not a burden, and just like how they’re dealing with their problems, you’re dealing with yours. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and respected, and not to insult your acting skills, but... They won’t believe you if you walk out there overheating and struggling to stay standing to tell them that you’re perfectly fine. Ratchet told me how you were stumbling around this morning.”

“I hate that you’re right,” He mumbled, and you wondered why he always had to be so childish when he was sick.

Then again, as much as you hated Optimus’s stubborn personality, it was a major component of who you’d gone and fallen in love with all that time ago. It was crazy, you thought; just the extent that you loved Optimus Prime to, and how terribly unaware he was of it. You thought it best to keep the fact hidden, as you didn’t know what his feelings were, and he had so much on his plate already... It hurt to think that he didn’t know how loved he was- not just by you, but by everyone around him, who he was always bending over backwards for, completely unaware that they’d do the exact same for him.

“And I hate that you treat yourself like this. Plus, as much as Ratchet threatens us all with consequences for our actions, he’s not going to tell them what’s going on in depth; just that you have a fever and that you’re resting, you know he respects patient confidentiality. He’ll probably even downplay it because he knows that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“No, you’re just trying to reassure me, but...” Optimus paused and let go of your hand, fully settling back into the berth. You took your hand back and looked off to the side, already missing his touch. “I know you want to, and that Ratchet probably told you to spend the night here and take care of me, but I’m alright now. I’ll stay and rest, I promise. You can go to your room to sleep, I know you’re usually not up this late, and I’d hate to keep you up with my problems.”

You didn’t really want to leave him, but you were tired, and you believed his words. His tone was genuine enough.

“Are you sure?” You asked and received a nod in return. So, you stood up and collected yourself. “Okay, if you’re sure... I’ll leave and go get some rest, then come back at three to give you your antibiotics and make sure you’ve got something on your stomach.”

Silence.

The second you turned around to leave, though, Optimus was grabbing the back of your robe and holding the cloth between his digits, tone low as he spoke again.

“Actually, (y/n), wait... Don’t leave me. I need you.”

You turned back around and looked at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told you seconds before that he was fine and that you should leave to go get some rest so that he could fall into recharge as well? What was with the sudden change of heart? Was there something going on with his physical condition, or was it something else?

“Huh? But Optimus, you said you needed to rest...” You muttered, which earned you a shake of his head in return.

“I will,” Optimus promised. “Please, just stay and don’t question it. I lied to you, I don’t know why, but I can’t be alone right now. Don’t leave me.”

The plead from him was unexpectedly vulnerable, honest, open. You appreciated it, but at the same time, you were concerned about what exactly was going on with him- you felt like there was more to the story than stress and leadership and lack of self-care. While all of that was definitely in character for Optimus Prime, there was something else that he wasn’t telling you about, too. With how close you were to him, it wasn’t abnormal for you to have deeper discussions, but for him to admit that he wanted- no, needed you there with him and couldn’t be alone was something you’d never thought you’d hear in your lifetime.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you tell me to go, then. Thank you for being honest with me.”

With that, you sat back down on the stool and looked at him. A little bit of that light had returned to his optics, but he still seemed like he was in rough shape.

“Thank you.”

Silence again.

Instead of adjusting to get comfortable and slip into recharge, Optimus just sat there with his back against the board of the berth, optics trained on you. It had taken a while to get used to when you’d first met him, but nowadays, you were used to the Prime’s intensity, especially when it came to eye/optic-contact. Still, though, the way he was staring at you now... You couldn’t quite interpret it. Then again, could you usually? Optimus was hard to read sometimes.

“You’re not resting,” You teased, but received a serious response in return.

“I’m thinking, and then I’ll rest.”

“You’re sick, the last thing you need to be doing is overthinking like you always do,” You reached out to him, rested your palm on the side of his face and tenderly ran a thumb over the apex of his cheek. Surprisingly, he leaned into your touch with a smile.

“What if it pertains to you? It’s either I tell you and get my closure, which is daunting, or I sit here overthinking it like I always do.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and flinched. It had been obvious that something was on his processor, but it had to do with you? What was it? Did it have to do with your feelings? Tense, you talked again.

“...Have I done something? I’d rather you tell me.”

“You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

The words were whispered but still felt so loud, filling the room with their impact in a way that made your cheeks hot and your heart beat hard against your chest.

“Your illness must be making you delusional,” You laughed nervously, but Optimus only gave you a sloppy grin and laughed. You moved your hand to the top of his helm to check his temperature, but it hadn’t changed- as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure he was being serious and not having feverous hallucinations like you’d initially suspected. Still, you thought it proper to ask. “Do you feel hot? Are you overheating again?”

“No, (y/n), I’m just in love with you,” Optimus peered at you, smile falling a bit. “I mean, yes, I am sick, and I’m still overheating, but I’ve been in love with you for- Ah, I’m actually not sure how long it’s been... I just know it’s been too long.”

There was a pause, in which the two of you seemed to be processing what important things were said; in the span of just a minute or two, Optimus had boldly laid his feelings out for you on the table, unabashed and proud, the tension that came with two years worth of pining that you’d been doing solved so... Quickly. You were surprised you hadn’t felt your jaw hit the floor.

Had he really loved you the whole time? Or was this a recent development? Why was he only telling you now? Had his stress over his feelings for you also contributed to his sickness?

“I’m not sure I can talk about this in good conscience when you’re so vulnerable,” You smiled back at him, (e/c) eyes meeting his ocean-hued optics as you removed your hand from his head. Shyly, he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It feels selfish, but... I love you, too, and that’s why I want you to rest and get better, maybe not stress out so much.”

You kissed the back of his servo as he pulled it away, earning what you hoped was a blush and not more symptoms of overheating.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t afraid of getting you sick,” Optimus sighed. You were sure that you probably couldn’t catch whatever he had going on since he was a Cybertronian and you were human, but you didn’t want to test that theory, so you left it alone.

“It’s okay,” You reached out to hold one of his servos in both of your hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I can feel the sentiment. Just focus on getting better, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

“Sometimes I fear we don’t- Have all the time, I mean, and I suppose that’s why I finally broke down and did this- I like to believe I’m impervious to everything around me, but I’ve already died once, and every time I get sick, I always think about what will happen if I go offline without telling everyone around me just how much they mean. I didn’t want to be scared anymore, not when it came to you.”

“I...” You stood and got on top of the berth so you could sit next to Optimus, curling into his side. “Me, too.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” The Prime asked and wrapped an arm around you. Gentle. Strong. Warm.

“Would you like me to be?” You asked in return with a tilt of your head.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Optimus looked at you, clearly somewhat doubtful, but you only shook your head with a smile. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just get some rest, okay?”

“...Okay.”

So, you stayed, and when Ratchet walked in the next morning to see you curled up by Optimus’s side on the berth with your (lip/chap)stick smeared on his servos, both of you sleeping peacefully for once, he couldn’t help but think that Optimus getting sick once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

#tfa #transformers animated #transformers #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfa optimus prime x reader #tfa ratchet #ratchet #fanfiction #request #requests

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secretsickysideblog · 3 years

Text

dumb lucky

"“you know my favorite color?” bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing. “anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…” “that’s cute,” bucciarati smiles, and abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “you know my favorite color.”'

a mission takes bucciarati and abbacchio all the way to a town in piedmont where bucciarati finds himself fever-riddled in the midst of a snowstorm. abbacchio finds silver linings.

(sicktember day 1 - fever)

read under the cut!

It’s only tradition for things to go wrong for Passione.

Well, perhaps that’s a lie--normally, they get dumb lucky. But this means that when things go wrong, they go incredibly wrong in multiple ways at once. It’s only fair for the amount of times the gang has narrowly escaped death by the skin of their teeth. And Abbacchio is grateful that neither he nor Bucciarati are running the risk of death right now; it could be much, much worse.

But this mission could certainly be going much better. After all, Abbacchio never thought he’d be buying fever reducers in a little town in Piedmont, Italy as a part of the job of Neapolitan Mafioso. He hadn’t expected to be led all the way to Piedmont in the first place.

Easy mission my ass, Giovanna, he laments internally, rolling his eyes as he compares the prices between on and off-brand fever reducers. Abbacchio doesn’t usually bother to buy things like this, but Bucciarati’s fever--yes, a fever that had managed to swell up to a whopping 39 degrees overnight while on a mission--definitely needs to be treated.

He settles on both bottles, and he grabs a pack of water bottles, too. Abbacchio peruses the shelves, considering what else Bucciarati might need. He’d rather not come trudging out through this snow again if he could help it; it started coming down last night and hasn’t shown any sign of stopping since. He grabs another thermometer, a can of soup, and he’s about to head to the register when he spots something else that catches his eye.

It’s a large blanket in blue--Bucciarati’s favorite shade of blue (not that Abbacchio bothers to remember things like his Capo’s favorite color), and god, does it look soft. His gaze wanders to the window. Snow falls in clumps, kicked up into a white mist by the wind, and Abbacchio could shiver just looking at it. He does shiver thinking about the short walk back to the motel through that storm.

Abbacchio sighs, runs his fingertips over the inviting fleece. A blanket couldn’t hurt.

He grabs it and tucks it under the arm without the basket only to spot that there’s another of the same in purple. And another, in ivory? Abbacchio isn’t someone tempted by luxuries, but blankets in the cold seem like a necessity.

So he picks up both. Because Bucciarati has to sweat out the fever anyway, right? He’s too out of it to be angry, anyway.

Abbacchio lugs the three heavy blankets and the basket of various other supplies to the register, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. The cashier looks over his selection as she rings up and bags each object, smiling fondly.

“Taking good care of someone, I see.”

Abbacchio huffs, lips quirking upward to a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s about time he lets me.”

“These blankets are on sale, you know. Buy one and the other is half-off,” and, in an expertly-crafted manner of egging him into it, the cashier finishes her sell with, “Everyone loves a good blanket. Perfect to cuddle up under.”

Abbacchio doesn’t anticipate growing the balls to ‘cuddle-up’ with Bucciarati, but something about the idea sways him into it. He stares at the blanket shelf in consideration for a long moment before giving in and grabbing a fourth, this one in black.

The cashier is, clearly, proud of herself. Abbacchio can’t find it in himself to get as annoyed by this as usual. He did fall for her marketing scheme, after all. Can’t bitch about it if he gave in.

Altogether, he walks out of the store with five bags slung on his arms, four of which are occupied by heavy fleece and tied off to avoid any of the snowfall. His boots feel like weights as he trudges through planes of muddy white, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His hands are freezing--he wishes he’d bought gloves.

When he finally returns to the motel room, Bucciarati is curled up on the bed. He looks just about the same as he did when Abbacchio left which is, admittedly, like shit. His hair, lacking its typical braid, fell in uneven layers wherever it wasn’t sticking to sweat-soaked skin. The only real color in his face is across his cheeks in bright, splotchy red, and though his eyes are closed now, they’ve been glazed over all morning.

Abbacchio shakes his head in disapproval, wondering how Bucciarati managed to just ignore this, because he knows damn well it didn’t just spark overnight. He must’ve been feeling at least vaguely unwell before they’d embarked on this (unexpectedly) lengthy journey. Abbacchio tells himself, as he has every time he starts thinking about how his Capo sucks at self-care, that he’ll just bitch at him about it later; criticizing a sick person is mean, and besides, there’s not enough cognizance in his fever-addled head to comprehend annoyance right now anyway.

He unties his scarf, shrugs off his coat, and unbags the items on the small coffee table in the room. Bucciarati stirs into half-lucidity, as told by the mix of a groan and a whine that slips from him after a bit of shifting around. Abbacchio looks over to him, seeing his hazy blues blink open, and he immediately grabs the bottle of fever reducers to force down his throat now while he’s just awake enough to swallow and not awake enough to protest.

“Here,” he holds out a bottle of water and two of the pills for Bucciarati to take, which he does after taking a second to process the command. He moves sluggishly, but he manages to get the pills down and put the water bottle on the nightstand. Abbacchio feels his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how much he’s burning still.

He goes to pull away. Bucciarati doesn’t let him, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand there.

“What are you doing?”

“Cold,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter closed again. “Feels nice.”

Abbacchio opens his mouth, closes it. Thanks the lord above that Bucciarati can’t see the way his cheeks heat up as though he’s contracted a fever. After a moment of hesitance, Abbacchio brings both of his hands up to cup Bucciarati’s cheeks, and the other man sighs contentedly.

“Well, if it’s cold you want, maybe you should go take a nap in the snow,” Abbacchio jokes.

“Hm,” Bucciarati takes a breath. “Perhaps I should.”

Abbacchio stares down at Bucciarati. At the way his eyelashes, dark and thick, fan out across his cheeks. At his lips, still pretty and pink and miraculously not very chapped. Even now, sick as a dog, Bucciarati is gorgeous. Abbacchio could watch him forever, he’s sure, but then he realizes how creepy he’s being and abruptly pulls away. Bucciarati’s eyes open with a dejected look to them, and Abbacchio reminds himself that it’s not because it’s his hands, it’s because his hands are cold and Bucciarati is delusional with fever.

“Uh, so, I got you two kinds of fever reducer, and you’re gonna take it whether you like it or not,” Abbacchio starts to say, clearing his throat. Bucciarati hums, half-listening. “I got water. A can of soup, if you get hungry, but since you just woke up I’m sure you’re not yet.”

Bucciarati doesn’t respond, so Abbacchio assumes he’s right. He’ll make him eat something later.

“And,” Abbacchio unties the other four bags, “I know you’re not looking to get warmer, but fevers have to be sweat out, right? I got blankets. They were on sale.”

Bucciarati almost whines, though it’s quiet, subtle. Abbacchio opts to ignore it, because it does nothing good for his heart.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but look, it’s your favorite color,” Abbacchio holds up the blanket in proud display. Bucciarati looks at it, but it’s clear that he’s not fully seeing it.

“You know my favorite color?” Bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing.

“Anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…”

“That’s cute,” Bucciarati smiles, and Abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “You know my favorite color.”

Abbacchio takes the tags off the plush fabric and chucks it at Bucciarati. Bucciarati, as expected, makes no move to catch it. It takes him a minute to slip the fleece off of his head and onto his lap. This process is repeated four more times as a mountain of plush fabric piles up on the bed--the singular bed, which Abbacchio would be incredibly nervous about if this was a year ago, but they’ve been stuck in the ‘unfortunate’ one-bed scenario too many times for him to care anymore.

“This is...so many,” Bucciarati murmurs, staring down at the pile. He runs his thumb along the hem of the blue one. “They are soft, though.”

“I don’t know if you can feel how cold it is in here, much less out there,” Abbacchio gestures towards the storm just beyond the windows, “but we needed them. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, between your fever and the bastard we’re after.”

Bucciarati nods, absently petting the blankets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Falling ill,” Bucciarati says it like it’s the most obvious reason to apologize in the world. “We’re stuck here. It’s my fault.”

Abbacchio rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.”

Bucciarati looks like he wants to protest, but then his expression turns confused as if his own thought process doesn��t make sense to him anymore. Abbacchio snorts at the sight and shakes his head before climbing into bed beside the other man and urging him to lay back down.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” Abbacchio pulls one of the many blankets around them up to his shoulders, and another about halfway above that. He lets Bucciarati kick the others aside. “You’re warm, and I’m cold. I’m finding silver linings.”

Bucciarati chuckles a little. If he were any more coherent, he’d make a joke about Abbacchio’s usual pessimistic cynicism being an act; the latter is almost grateful, at that thought, for the fever. The wind howls outside as the storm picks up. It’s definitely not an ideal situation, but it could be much worse.

Bucciarati turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of Abbacchio’s neck. Tentatively, Abbacchio wraps an arm around him.

Maybe this was just dumb luck in disguise.

#sicktember #sicktember2021 #jjba sickfic #jjba fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure sickfic #bruabba #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #bruno x abbacchio #bruabba sickfic #sick!bruno #caring!abbacchio #sickfic #fever #nice first post

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everfairestar · 2 years

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Weird writer asks for my weird writer wife: 10, 11 (like I don't already know you SADIST), 18, 24, 26, 35, 37 😘💖

Oh my god, my wife <3 I'm always happy to answer your questions

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Of course. Sometimes you read things and they have you by the throat, forever. I can think of several authors who have works who haunt me. The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray is probably the one that haunts me that's most like my own writing. As for being haunted by my own writing -- basically everything I write is like being chased by ghosts. My brain is a haunted house, and all my characters are my ghosts.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

I know you hate to hear it, but yes. Kill your darlings. Let their ghosts haunt your protagonists, let their spirits possess your POV characters, like shades calling from beyond the grave. It’s not ruthlessness, though. It is love, or necessity that drives it. Some characters are written as in tragedy. And I grieve them as my other characters grieve – it’s killing a piece of your very own soul.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Let’s see… So this is a passage from my first novel, from my female protagonist. She’s meeting her arranged husband’s family – who isn’t kind of him. And she looks at him, and sees him. As he is, as a whole being, as someone who has suffered and lived a life less than ideal. It is her first real recognition of him not as a monster, but as a person. He is used to fading into the subservient background, and she won’t let him make himself disappear in front of her.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

The answer to this is… Typically an absurd amount? I mean, there’s one or two pieces that a sit with for a brief moment and just write it out. But anything multichapter? Conceptualizing that takes years. Playing out and deciding POV characters, building their backgrounds, mannerisms, quirks, likes and dislikes, etc. Then you have any kind of actual world-building. Fanfiction in this regard is ‘easier’ because it comes with some rules – established characters, rules for the world, etc. I spend hours daydreaming, or making up a scenario and playing out how that would be seen from various characters perspectives. So, the short answer to this is: A Lot. And it’s one of my favourite aspects of writing.

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

Getting into their head is easier than getting out, especially when you look at my last answer. Establishing how they would think makes it easier to get in… Once I’m in, it’s the getting out that’s hard. Especially with some of the darker, more monstrous characters. I can’t say it’s entirely regretful, but if I’m not careful with some of those awful characters it can cause my own mental health to spiral. Which probably means I’m pretty delicate emotionally or something.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Probably “don’t post anything publicly without editing.” I hate editing. I catch errors here and there as I’m writing, but I hate going back and reading my own writing 90% of the time. Most of the time I feel great about it in the moment, and not so great about it after. Once I’ve posted it becomes Everyone Else’s Problem. :^)

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

Other than “this person was probably extremely mentally unwell”? Well, hopefully that I was a bitch with a lot of opinions and cared a lot about people.

#askmeme #writeblr #hersilentlanguage #bestie I love this #my writing #I always feel like i'm slightly unhinged in answering these questions #as well as being entirely too earnest

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jyunshiim · 4 years

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Catharsis *✬★*’☽* ✬ ⤷Jungkook X Reader au | Part 1

Genre → supernatural | some angst | romance | historical (ish)

Contains → vampire!Jungkook | romance | supernatural concepts |

Listen to → Catharsis

Word count → 12K ( 12247 )

TW → some mentions of death, blood and gore

Chapters/sequels → coming soon

Summary: After being told the Tales of Prince Jungkook, you were curious to discover more about the history of your town and the abandoned castle you were forbidden to enter. You discover who he is and why he was he had such fate but you also discover who you really are. Little did you know, your family’s history and the towns history intertwined. Will the past ever leave you?

Centuries ago, legend had it that vampires and werewolves and many other supernatural creatures roamed the grounds of your hometown. The mountains were inhabited by these supernatural creatures and the mortals objected to sharing the land with these callous creatures since they believed they were bad luck. This mystical town was at the edge of war; riots between the mortals and immortals would transpire every full moon, blood and wounds in every direction. Of course, the King sat and observed; what more could he do when the two separated societies loathed each other. There was little power over the hatred they had for each other, nothing could keep them apart for the selfish humans craved destruction, blood and death. The Castle sat towering over the town, holding its status. Red skies sheathed the firmament that loomed over the now silent town as the King stands at the large stained glass window that looked over into the town. He could see the clear separation between the mortals and the and immortals; he sighed. As much as the King tried to keep them civil, it would never happen. He turned around to see his son gazing at the shelves and the paintings that were hug up in the King’s private study room which was located in the tallest tower of the castle. His finger brushes over the leather cover of the books and took one that was a book on Folklore which interested him the most. “Father, can I borrow this?” He holds it up to his father and his father nods in affirmation. The son takes the book and runs down the spiral staircase and finally down the large staircase that faced the vast wooden double doors to the castle. He pulled the rings on the door to open them and ran down to the front green space which was enclosed by evergreen trees arrayed along the front. He went down and sat on the verdant grass, the evening air gentle and pleasant. He flicked the page open; there was a contents page on all these supernatural creatures from vampires, witches, psychics, sirens, werewolves and many others. He was invested, he wanted to learn more about these creatures, but he didn’t know the history of his bloodline. Years prior to 1864, the King studied Vampires and how to kill these creatures, how to abolish such vile specimen. His family were hunters and studied how to capture, torture and kill vampires. He peacefully read the piece of literature, immersing himself and broadening his knowledge. He heard the sound of heels climbing up the stairs of the castle and it was none other than she, the love of his life, the one the Prince was going to marry. She was beautiful, divine piece of art, everything he ever wanted. He jumped up onto his feet dropping the book onto the grass. “Evening my dear Prince, Jungkook,” she curtsied to you. He felt his heart thump out of his chest. “Oh please, do enter my father must be waiting for your arrival,” Jungkook opens the door like the gentleman he is. Her smile was everything to him, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He kept a photo she gave him as a token of devotion and love, she loved him too, but she waited for the time the King arranged the royal wedding.

As the love of his life walks into the main hall, he goes back to grab his book which has seemed not to be where he dropped it. This was a strange occurrence, and he didn’t know what he did with it. Jungkook began frantically searching behind the bushes until someone pushed him over to the other side of the bush. “looking for this your majesty?” A tall male with a dark demeanour approached from behind him holding the Folklore book. Jungkook was angered by the utter disrespect he experienced and tried to grab this disrespectful man. “uh uh, it’s not very royal of you to grab a commoner like this is it?” he scoffed. As Jungkook blinked, the man vanished – where did he go – Jungkook was confused. He brushed himself off and sighed as he attempted to go back into the castle but he was tackled with super speed by this man. Everything turned black. He awakens, his neck and head in pain and his stomach growling in hunger. He thought he was pushed over and hurt his head and neck, only having a minor concussion on his head.

He thought nothing of it, the man must’ve attacked you since the King wasn’t favoured by a lot of people, so the prince was leverage to get back at him. He gulped, trying to cure his dry throat and entered back into the palace. The girl was sat at the dinner table along with his father and the girl’s assistant. She was a part of a rich family so her status was compatible with him. “Son where have you been? Why do you look so…. Pale?” The inspects him as Jungkook’s breathing became heavier. “Son are you unwell? Servants, take him to his quarters!” his father demanded. The girl’s assistant looked at Jungkook concerned, she knew what was wrong and little did the King know, she was a descendant of the most powerful of witches concealed as a commoner that would assist the wealthy family’s prized possession – their daughter- since she was the only half witch, wealthy child in the town. The daughter was also a part of the same bloodline, they were cousins of course although the daughter’s mother married a rich man, who was a powerless human being making her less powerful. As Jungkook was escorted to his slumber quarters he lay there in cold sweat.

“Your Majesty, would I have your permission to see your son to just examine his condition?” the assistant pleaded. The King agrees to the offer; “oh yes, please feel free, please tell me what’s wrong with him!” the King sounded concerned. She nods as she runs up the stairs holding her dress and stand outside his door. “May I come in?” she knocks with respect and manner. There was no reply or response so there was no choice but to open the door on her own, so she twisted the door handle and gulped. She gasped in absolute horror to see Jungkook drenched in the blood of his servants with the tall, broad shouldered man next to him. “well done my little fledgling, your first taste of human blood,” he smirked before going towards the witch. “Why are you here?” he asks the witch. “ Seokjin I could ask you the same! Why did you turn the PRINCE out of all people!” her voice was angry and infuriated. “just a bit of fun my magic potion,” he strokes her shoulder, or attempts to before he hisses. “hmm ouch extra witchy protection…” he scoffs “ well Prince Jungkook’s going to need one of your fancy sunlight protecting rings like your great-great grandmother made me, see you later.” He sits at the edge of the window before shifting into a crow and vanishing into the nothingness of the forest. What could she tell the King? She didn’t want him to become exiled or even worse, executed!

That’s what your aunt used to tell you. The tales of the vampires and the numerous supernatural creatures that roamed the town you lived in and how the castle that sat on the mountain was a chamber of secrets that no one dared to discover. It was said that anyone who even attempted to enter would either disappear or have vivid night terrors – it was deemed to be so haunted. “That sounds so cool!” your voice sounded vivacious “now I wanna go and see for myself!” but your aunt gave you a disapproving look. “I don’t think that would be the most ideal thing to do, don’t even dare!” she raised her voice, moving her hair out of her face as she began to gather the utensils from the side of the sink to dry them up and put them away. Your great grandmother gave you a family heirloom that was a blue crystal locket which was filled with a flower and another gem like stone which had a carved white rose on the surface. Your before she passed away, she told you to take care of it and to never lose it. You didn’t know why but you kept her word and wore it all the time. “so what happened to the prince after? Did the king ever find out?” You ask. “Your grandmother would know this, It’s just a story anyway but I think this is what happened,” she begins and continues the captivating tale of Prince Jungkook.

Shortly after the maids encounter with Seokjin, she turned around and heard rattling at the door but before she count meet whoever was outside, she failed to keep it closed and his lover ended up finding him in this condition; the fear in her eyes flooding her mind and showing on her face. Little did she know vampires fed off fear since adrenaline was what made blood sweeter and more available. He charged at her before the witch warded him off with the poisoned Vervain scalding his face making him whimper like a puppy. “you-”his lovers voice cracked, ““BEAST! FIEND! Stay away from me-” his lover screamed in terror. The witch shut the door on him and put her necklace with other magic and herbs on the handle of the door so he couldn’t open it. Jungkook’s lover ran down the stairs, stumbling and tripping but not caring, not giving a second though as to where she is running to. “where are you going!” the King tried to stop. “Your son- t-the Prince,” her words stumbled upon each other, “VAMPIRE” she yelled before running out of the palace, Jungkook watching the love of his life leaving him forever.

“what happened next? This is getting too good to stop here Aunt,” you lean on your hands at the island counter as she cooks dinner. “Hm, from what I can remember she told me that he had to be exiled probably executed too”

The Prince spent weeks in his room not being able to leave until the King brought in priests and organised a ceremony for everyone to attend although by everyone, he meant just the supernaturals. He didn’t like what he was going to do to his son, but he had to do as much as he could to keep his people safe even if that meant to kill his own son. During that ceremony, which was held at a local church, he trapped all the vampires inside and transported Jungkook to the building. He was chained like an animal and thrown into the building like he meant nothing. The supernaturals congregated outside the venue which was an ancient church that was built by the commoners many years prior to 1864. The doors opened to rows of concreate seats facing to the front of the church, wooden supports holding up the ceiling above the immortals and the alter standing at the front empty for a little while. Everyone was seated, the immortals though that them and the mortal King had a civil relationship- they were wrong. The ceremony started and Seokjin sat at the back and watched Jungkook sitting on the backrow, starved. “awh seems like someone was held hostage,” he snickers before getting his composure back. “Just a joke but you know what’s happening right?” Seokjins eyes widen excitedly, “this is a mass execution, he’s blowing the church up… bOOM!” He laughed hysterically “I know this only because this church had been rebuilt before because the same happened to me,” He sits beside you. “what! Blown up?” Jungkook asks, “yeah but it’s fine, I just wanna keep you by my side,” he smirks before searching for an escape route and little did the King know, Seokjin has been around for many years and knew the underground tunnel systems, so behind the alter was the entrance to the underground tunnels. There was a short pause before starting since the King forgot his ‘speech’ and had to go and find it in his carriage however that was when it was all going to happen. And it did.

“So did Prince Jungkook survive?” you question at the cliffhanger. “No one knows but legend has it that his spirit still lingers in the castle and the church and on top of that you can hear his angelic voice down every hallway,” you felt shivers down your spine. You wanted to see it for yourself; was it true the castle was still functioning as normal like people said. Your brother opens the front door and walks in beaten and bruised. “Namjoon! What happened?” the tone in your voice your voice sounded startled! It had been months since he got into a fight and it was usually over something stupid but this time something felt strange. “what happened? Answer me!” your aunt raise her voice. Even if he was 20 he still needed some discipline since you both lost your parents at a young age. “fight, what else?” he throws his shows aside near the door and runs up the stairs slamming his bedroom door. Your aunt sighs’ “you two are making me feel old!” you get up from your seat and help her with the table, “but you’re very pretty though so don’t you worry.” Your mind lingered about the forbidden area of the town, where the new bell towered church sat, on the boarder of the road to the castle and the main town.

It was a new semester and you entered the school with confidence as your two best friends waited at the entrance for you. After the long summer, you, Jimin and Yoongi were finally united as a trio again and caught up on your summer away. “so, where did you go?” Jimin asked as he fixed the raven brooch on his jacket. “Oh, I just went to the countryside to see my grandmother and she told me all sorts of weird stories about our family, not going to lie they didn’t sound real, but her great grandmother was a witch!” the fascination in your voice being clear and present. “so that would mean you’re a witch, through descent!” Yoongi wonders, “but witches aren’t real?” you shake your head. “No, Yoongi, apparently according to her we also have psychics in our family so I could be either there’s a possibility!” you sounded crazy to them but you brushed it off because you know what you were told. Maybe it wasn’t real, your grandmother is old and stories can change over time. They’re stories after all. “maybe you’re right Yoongi, maybe it is just stories,” you continue walking with them. Despite being a new semester, it didn’t feel different at all. You wondered around to your class and placed your bag on the floor, your necklace falling out of your bag made another student turn their head. “Hey, you,” the person called out and you turned your head pointing to yourself. “me?” you tilt your head. “yeah, where did you get this collector’s item from?” He sounded so fascinated by it, “oh sorry for just taking it off you, I just love collector items especially when they have close historical links with the town!” he smiles “I’m Taehyung by the way!” he hands the necklace back to you and you held it back in your hands and wore it around your neck again to not lose it. For your films class you were put into pairs to produce a short film of any genre. There wasn’t anyone you really knew in the class although everyone has some acquaintances in the class so you glance over at Taehyung who twiddles his pen, leaning on his palm. It seems like he was waiting for someone to pair up with him. “you must me joking,” you mutter to yourself before you take your stuff and seat yourself next to him. “about time, I thought you’d move sooner to be fair,” he smiled at you, the curl on his forehead sitting peacefully before he blows it away from his face. “what you staring at? My curls,” he messes with you. “whatever, we need to plan our film, what are you into?” you ask him and he ponders with a pout, “I like documentary, what about you?” so you think. “I mean I don’t really mind, documentary is easy but maybe a short film would be so cool especially with the whole spooky history, what do you think?” Taehyung nods. “I supposed that’s a good idea too, we could combine them if we tried hard enough and I don’t know what kind of worker you are.” He rolls his eyes and then flashes a playful smile. God how cocky. He seemed like a nice guy so you let it be and tried to write up a plan for your class. Although once the bell went, you thought he’d leave – like every other project buddy you had – but he asked if you were doing anything after school. “oh, umm no I’m probably going to do some homework or start reading up for other classes, why?” he smiles softly, “oh I was wondering if you wanted to do anything interesting, only if you want!” You paused and stopped walking. “depends what it is?” you hoped it wasn’t something weird. “wanna go exploring?” the bells in your head started to ring. Did he just say exploring, as in discovering new things. “exploring what…” you drag on “oh come on, the forest! No one has been there in years god knows what we could find!” His voice was ecstatic. You didn’t want to be impulsive; “hmm I’ll let you know,” you shrug before you turn to go to the cafeteria, “wait! Heres’ my number if you’re interested” you take the piece of paper that seemed crumpled up and thank him, waving him goodbye. You see Jimin at his locker; “Hey!” you made him jump and he groaned, “oi, don’t do that that scared me, where’s yoongi?” he asks looking around. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since class?” but as you said that, he walks around the corner. “I see you made an impression on Taehyung,” he nods at you, “how did you know?” your eyes widened. “He’s going around telling false tales about him being a part of the hunter bloodline and how he found a witch or something, so I assumed he was talking about you” Yoongi whistled before heading to the cafeteria. You were confused, how did he even know that. “must be one compulsive liar,” Jimin snickers before punching Yoongi. “Possibly” he shrugs but it made you think how Yoongi didn’t believe you about the witch thing so there could be an element of truth. You were curious.

Home was where you felt safe yet so limited. A wooden box with a silver latch sat at your window ledge, entreating you to open it and discover what was inside. It was gifted by none other than your great-grandmother; and you glanced at it, your fingers twitching to unclip the lock. You ignore it, trying to dedicate your focus to your trigonometry homework however you felt an energy calling you. You tutted and groaned at your focus being dismantled by your frantic thoughts; you dropped you pen and slammed your book shut, walking over to the window where the box sit.

“this box should be kept near the window to ward off any supernatural energy to keep you safe.”

Your grandmother said weird and wacky things however you went along with it. You wanted to open the box and you went against your grandmother’s rules and sat at your window ledge but before opening the box, you realised that there were lights on at the vampire castle. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened in joy – were you imagining things – you rubbed your eyed however they weren’t a figment of your imagination. It was real. You wanted to yell at your aunt to let her know but she already thought you were crazy so you left it and opened the box. It was an amethyst necklace with a silver spiral trapping the get and a purple and white flower inside and along with the necklace was a letter written a long time ago, it was concealed with a wax seal and carefully placed inside of the box. Your curiosity was intensified by the castle and you thought to yourself for a bit. Didn’t Taehyung want to go exploring? Maybe now would be a good idea but no, you wanted to see for yourself on your own. “hey, can I come in?” your Aunt asks knocking on the door so you leaped onto your bed and grabbed a textbook. “yes, you can!” you said slightly breathless. “I have some snacks for you, eat up,” she says before looking at your window wide open, “so what’s this then?” she sets some warm soup on your desk. “oh, it was just getting a bit stuffy” your nervously chuckle. She narrows her eyes, “alright, eat up alright, I’m going to watching a show, if you need me in downstairs.” She lets you know before shutting your door. You couldn’t let the soup go cold so you eye it for a moment before sighing and sitting at your desk, both hands cupping the curve of the bowl and, you guessed it, downed it in one go. You wiped your mouth fast and think of a route out and looking outside of your bedroom didn’t seem like a far jump down. You grabbed your phone and your jacket and tried to sneak out. It was a success. You sighed in relief and walked down the back streets, hood up, to the forest.

Dancing in the dark.

Stumbling through the leaves and decaying animals, you managed to enter the mystical forest you dreamed of going into you. The air was different, it stung to breathe in but perhaps that was the cold weather who knows. You hear a crunch of a twig snapping in half which startled you, your head whipped around to see nothing but the leaves swaying in the icy breeze. Inhale. Exhale. You went on your way further. The darkness made it difficult to see anything, you squint your eyes to check your surroundings. Are there still these supernatural creatures living or were they all killed off? The buzzing in your mind catches you off guard and you strip on a piece of concrete and reach out to grab the leafy floor although it was another concrete brick like textured object. Frantically, you search for your phone and press the flash button to see a staircase. A gasp leaves your mouth and you stand yourself up. The towering structure, two turrets and one fragmented turret loomed over you dauntingly. “that must be where he was held..” you whisper to yourself. A flash occurred from the corner of your eye and you were shaken by the suddenness of it. It seemed like a candlelight was blown out from the middle room of the castle but you weren’t too certain. You were hesitant to go inside but you took a deep breathe and you did. How bold of you. The doors were tall, around 7 feet tall with two ring handles, which seemed to be made out of a type of metal. The colour was faded and rusty. Your fingers brushed over it but the heavy, wooden doors gracefully opened welcomingly. The relinquished palace had a strong aura, an aura of life. You peer through the doors to see the interior cold and untouched. The mess of the table, an earring to gleaming in the moonlight next to your feet. You pick it up. This must be Prince Jungkook’s lover’s earring. You begin to explore this castle, the unbelievable history was at your finger tips right now. You look up to the stained glass windows that looked to the full moon, your necklace was shining bright… brighter than usual. Your curiosity took you to the broken turret room, the bed soaked in blood from that specific evening, the box let wide open with crystals and stone. “That must be from my grandmother,” you pick up the crystals, “holy water and herbs, what a great pair.” A voice spoke from behind your startling you. You turned around but no one was there; was it his voice still echoing in this room, does his spirit still roam?

“no, don’t be stupid, spirits can’t scream,” He chuckles. Why did he sound a lot like Taehyung? “Taehyung?” you stutter, “oh! It worked, wow I’m so happy,” Jungkook chuckles, “years of practice what can I say, the Kim’s were easy to mirror.”

You couldn’t believe it, it really was him in real life but you froze from fear and shock. “frightened now are we?” his eyes were glowing an fiery red, “go ahead, run like they all did,” he smirks before giving you way. You drop the crystals and you clutch to your necklace but as you bolt to the front door, stumbling down the stairs, he was already there waiting for you. “hm I’ve gotten quite good at this haven’t I My Love,” he smirks before you felt a pang of fear in your heart. You tripped over the concrete stairs again and you get back up again, running to the main town. Little did you know, you lost your necklace making you a lot more vulnerable than you think.

You climb onto the bins and try to pry your window open again and sneak back in. The lights were off so you had to be quiet. “my necklace!” you gasp at the realisation you lost it.

Your nightmares were vivid, like your were being attacked by him since you didn’t feel safe without your necklace. You didn’t know what it did but it kept you safe.

The necklace helps keep you safe from compulsion. Compulsion from a vampire is dangerous especially when they know you’re a witch, they can almost ask you for anything and use you for their own benefit. The necklace should always be worn, never taken off. The ring a vampire wears is keeps them from scorching in the sunlight, so they are among us – Witches society 1800’s

“Whatever, I’ll go back and find it,” you shake your head and open your eyes during the early hours of the morning. Two glowing orbs moved from your window and you rubbed your eyes and turned away. Your heart beat hard, like it was going to beat out of your chest.

You felt uneasy the next day at school but you went on as you would do. “have you seen Taehyung today?” Jimin asks pointing at him standing against his locker with your necklace in his hands. Anger flooded through your blood stream, why does HE have it? “Taehyung! Why did you take my necklace again?” you seemed to have forgotten what happened the night before. “what? I found this at the ca-“ he stopped himself, “hm, I see.. apologies here take it back,” he hands to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “only if you promise to help me find him.” You gasped at the absurd deal but you wanted to find him too, you wanted to know more. “fine..” you sigh and he smirks, “perfect…”

Why did you forget about what happened last night? Was it because you were under some sort of compulsion; the orbs? It must’ve been him. “Did you know your ancestors were from the line of the most powerful witches?” Taehyung whispers to you in film class. “yes, I did, how do you even know that?” You reply dryly. “Well your ancestors were of great help to us hunters,” he leans back in his chair, “although some of you were in love with the Prince and his family,” he scoffs. What did he mean by that? “huh? Elaborate please?” you ask him, pausing your written plan and turning to him. “My ancestors left letters, diaries and capsules for us and there was a division amongst the witches; some of you lot protected the prince and others wanted him dead so all the vervain plants in this town and perhaps all over the world were cursed as a repellent for compulsion, some other magic stuff was involved but I’m a hunter,” he starts off, “So the Lady of Prince Jungkook had a close link with the witches to protect her lover but unfortunately he turned and her assistant began to protect him since he did a lot for their family, no one knows of what happened to the Lady but legend has it that she was turned by something else I don’t really know and-“ you interrupt him, “you know awfully a lot don’t know hm…” you began to get suspicious of him but the crest on his jacket seemed believable enough. “maybe we should hang out after classes to actually talk about our history” his lips curl and he looks back at the teacher at the front of the room.

Later that afternoon; you and Taehyung sit face to face, opposing each other at a local café. “so, you are from the witches who kept these vampires safe and I’m obviously a hunter,” you taps his fingers on the table, “you’re not a hunter you’re a descendant don’t get too cocky Tae,” you rolls your eyes. “Have you done magic?” he asks you, “well obviously not?” you take your cup and sip aggressively at his stupid remarks trying to drown it out. “I see, but you know what that necklace does right?” he points at your neck as the stone hung down. You shake your head. “stop compulsion and it’s also a poison to vampires,” he nods. “is it now…” you sounded unfazed. His hand touched your hand and you felt a strange sensation. Your body went into shock and a bright light flashed at your eyes and you were able to see something, like a movie but you were actually there. You saw yourself running away but your were inside of the castle, the lights were bright and you felt fear. You saw people with stakes and fire, as well as bows and arrows shooting at the turrets. It was the day the prince turned. Why were you running away? He lets his hand off you. “how was that? Did you know you could do that?” he smugly smiles. You felt your chest pang with pain and you felt breathless. “what the fuck was that?” you kick him under the table. “you just saw your past life, that’s all…”

So was Jungkook’s lover a witch too? Were you her? You couldn’t be. “I think we should go back to the castle, I want to check something,” you say, “now we’re talking little Witch,” he pats your head. “don’t fucking call me that, “you push his hand away, “disgusting.”

“Hey Aunt, I’m going to a friends house to stay over is that okay?” you ask her politely. “Of course! You can call me whenever you need to okay.” She smiles and waves. This was your chance to collect items from the castle. You met Taehyung at the taped trees where it said ‘no trespassing’ yet you and him crawled underneath and wondered deep inside the forest. “Wow, what if we just kissed here,” he nudged you. “I’ll tell you now, I have zero interest in you Hunter boy, shut up and start looking,” you sounded a tad bit aggressive but you had to show your place. You arrived at the entrance again although no lights in sight. The door was opened from the night before so you walked in, holding your necklace for protection; “I want to go to the study room,” you point and Tae nods. The study room was extravagant the walls opaqued with leather spined books. Your fingers brushed over them until one of them caught your eye. It was a book on Folklore but wedged between it was a thick envelope. You pulled it out, the wax seal opened and a fire damaged letter amongst others. They were love letters exchanged between him and his lover and one of them which he seemed to have opened when he was in the church. He managed to save it. You pull out a photograph too of his lover and you look at it closely, inspecting every detail until realising how much she looked like you. “doppelgänger?” you gasp before Taehyung wonders in finding something. “Hey, has there always been running electricity here?” he asks you. “it’s a really old castle so there shouldn’t be,?” you reply to him, shoving the letters in your bag. Taehyung switches a light on and back off. “you shouldn’t be snooping around my office…” Jungkook sits at his desk, legs up his eyes glinting a fire red. “You know, it’s been a while since I tasted any human blood in years, no one seems to give me any company…” You see a black shadow move to the light switch out the door and back to the seat in under a second. “oh yes and um.. you guys are trapped in here,” he smiles playfully. “now, what should we play? Spin the bottle and the first human it lands on I drain you? Sounds fair right?”

“we didn’t mean any harm, I was just curious what was in here because-” you were interrupted, “I know you didn’t mean any harm witch, I mean him,” his eyes began to burn a bright red, his fangs appearing as he smiled, his eyes dark. “nono, I’m not like them I’m just a highschool kid!” Jungkook nods at him pleading. “you know, the more scared you are the sweeter your blood tastes,” he charges at him and you squeal. “STOP!” Jungkook stops, his fangs and eyes turning back to normal. There was something about you that you didn’t know about yet Jungkook did. “Seems like you missed out on you history classes,” he chuckles before he gazed into Taehyung’s eyes and whispers something. “So, why did you want to snoop into my castle? Steal from me?” he scoffs as Taehyung moves to stand next to you. The necklace was dangling out of your bag and he carefully pulled it out and Jungkook smiled as he did so. “Leave from here..” His eyes glow a yellow this time and there as a feeling within you that you had to leave. Taehyung dropped the necklace to the floor and you had an urge to run away from this castle. Adrenaline began to seep into your system as Jungkook whispers “boo,” you bolted out the door which flung open. The rapid steps you too through the leaves was frantic and desperate to leave. His sly tricks; he used Taehyung’s weak body to compel you. You were vulnerable now.

Weeks went by and you had a memory which you couldn’t remember, a void in your mind, pure emptiness. You move your bag to the floor to empty a seat next to you in your history class but Taehyung wasn’t in today. Although someone else was. He looked familiar and like you knew him but you thought nothing of it. “hey, long time no see?” his lips curl into a smile and pushes his dark hair back. What? But when you blinked he was gone again. You were seeing things and you thought you were genuinely delusional to the point a doctor’s appointment sounded good. “yo guys?” you asked Jimin and Yoongi as you guys sat in the basketball court that lunch break. “Was a new student admitted today or am I going crazy?” You think carefully. “no new students today, you my friend need to lay off the caffeine and start sleeping, you’re up at like 3am every single day?” Jimin sighs, “SLEEP WILL YOU!” Your friends thought you were going a little crazy but you took their advice. You were feeling fatigued and low when you arrived home and your aunt was sitting on the couch with someone. “hey! Your friend came over to return this saying you lost it at school,” it was the necklace you thought you had. What, how? “hey there! Thought I’d come visit you to return this,” he smiles and his eyes glint the amber tone. Fuck. Jungkook compelled you to forget that day you and Taehyung went to the castle, he was playing mind games all day. So he was in school but only in your mind or had some power where he couldn’t be seen? “I was asking your aunt if we could hang out more often since you keep avoiding me these days,” his tongue rests on his fang before retracting them when your aunt faces him. “what a nice boy,” your aunt smiles, “of course you guys can hang out I’m more than happy to allow that, in fact now would be great since I have an interview to go to” she gets up in a hurry and grabs her bag. “where?” you ask her. “The café and bar down the road from here?” your aunt looks at you suspiciously. “Oh okay,” you say nervously before you and Jungkook were left in your house alone together.

“You’re not a very smart witch now are you, a little bit clumsy hm,” he hums, he stands up and moves closer to you. “since I have been invited in, no salt or garlic will ward me off..” he smiles mischievously, “your family gave me permission to enter, a little careless to be quite frank with you,” he rolls his eyes and smirks. “what do you want…” your voice shakes but you feel frozen. “What do you think? New blood…” with his power of speed, pushing your by your shoulders to the wall, his eyes sharp. “don’t mess this up for me okay, don’t do it again…” you felt a surge of emotions and visions moving through your mind, you could feel pain and resent , the feeling of betrayal and devastation, your neck burning on your left side before he let go of you. “You just saw everything didn’t you?” His voice profound. “I-” you gulp “what if I did? I don’t have control over it!” you pant after using that energy. “no one has done that for years, I guess you are useful after all even if you are the dumbest witch I’ve ever seen…” he scoffed. “well I guess I’ll go but I’ll see you when I need you to find her, bye dumb witch” he waves as he just walks out of the front door with no care in the world, like he’s a normal human. “I’M NOT A DUMB WITCH!” you screamed internally before slamming the door. It seemed like he was searching for his lover but why would she be alive now.. unless someone turned her?

A few months went by with no contact from Jungkook until your phone pinged in class this one day during class from a random number.

“look outside the window, meet me outside now.”

What the hell? You did what the text asked you to do and you see Jungkook in a jacket that you recognise. It was a leather jacket embellished with large silver button on the front, isn’t that yoongi’s. “yes witch it is yoongi’s but I didn’t kill him, hurry up,” he could hear your thoughts. You ignore him and moments later the fire alarm goes off. He was like a little demon causing trouble in your life!

You manage to go outside to evacuate, and he pulls you aside and used his powers to move away from the site. “Can you see into the past using this?” it was the letters and the photo you took but he got them back somehow. You didn’t want to admit to stealing them. “I don’t know how to use my powers,” you mutter “what… you don’t what…” he stands towering over you, “just try, I don’t know manifest it or whatever you do?”

He was clueless yet desperate to get answers about his beloved. “I have to read up on this I really don’t know much,” you panic before he holds you hands between his, the letters and photos sandwiched between you palms. He was the closest thing to her and it worked, his energy worked.

–

You saw a night sky, the stars scattered across the sky like precious jewels it’s luminescent light beaming down with a full moon perched just above one of the towers. His beloved stood at the castle doors after Jungkook’s father’s death, the empty halls echoing Jungkook’s shrieks of pain. It was empty, or so she thought. But you felt a sensation, it was harsh and painful like something piercing through skin. It was Seokjin. “every single one of my prey are stupid,” he tuts before draining her and leaving her lifeless corpse to someone else. There was a crowd of people, hunter supposedly; “Stop, isn’t this the woman that was supposed to marry the prince?” One of them gasped. “yes sir, it was but is she dead?” another queries. “Seems so Hunter… do you think Jungkook is still alive?” the leader tuts. “I don’t think so, the fire seemed difficult to escape from…”

But during that time Jungkook left for Europe, to be safe, to join the European vampire population for a while before returning a few hundred years later.

–

Jungkook’s pale skin became paler with anticipation. “so… what did you see?” he asks, eyes full of hope. “she died… a long, long time ago..” you gulp pulling your hands away before running the opposite direction. Jungkook catches up. “Oi witch,” he chuckles nervously, “you better be joking,” his voice trembles and slowly turns into anger. “Who killed her, tell me, tell me how she died witch or I will kill you for being so useless!” he raises his voice. “I don’t know! He had pale skin and dark hair, broad shoulders and he was a vampire too!” you yelp. Jungkook steps back. “seokjin attacked my Princess… knowing I was waiting for her…” Jungkook’s voice became sorrowful, his heart shattering into a million pieces there and then. “I searched for her for years and what’s the point now..” his fiery eyes shoot at you. “what can you do to fix this, to bring her back, you can do it right?”

“I-I don’t know how, please don’t hurt me,” you cover yourself with your arms. “I wont hurt you.. you did the best you could and I cant be angry at you, I’m sorry”

You could feel his pain, his heart tightening and not releasing at the though of the love of his life being gone. “is there anything I can do to help you?” you ask hoping there was something you could help with. “you could stake me?” His voice was lifeless and monotonous. “I don’t think I want to Jungkook, if it makes you feel better I have always been interested in you and your history, my great grandmother told us about how everything was like back in her times and-” Jungkook interrupted you; “who was your great grandmother what did she do?” You felt a connection now, there was something he unlocked. You explained to him how your great grandmother was a part of the powerful witches in her time and how his lover was close with her. Although that’s when it hit you that that was her story she was telling and you unlocked a new timeline. “you are no way the descendant of-“ he paused, “let me process this, so I am talking to a close relative, well distant but you know of the woman I was meant to marry.. it makes so much sense why you looked like her I followed you around every where thinking it was her but I have been proven wrong and I’m sorry…”

he followed me? It all made sense.. the glowing orbs outside the window, the strange noises you’d hear every night, the vivid nightmares.

“oh, that’s fine,” you didn’t know what more to say but you felt bad for him. Jimin texted you and said that everyone was sent home because there was a gas leak in the school. “ah great, we’ve been sent home because of a gas leak,” you sigh, “well, I guess I’ll be going sorry for not being much help.” You say before turning around and making your way to the street. Jungkook grabs your arm. “wait, I’ve been so lonely and constantly on the run,” he begins, “it would be nice to have a friend that’s close to home,” he smiles. He genuinely smiled at you; “me? Didn’t you call me dumb?” you tut, “okay maybe I did and maybe you are but hey there’s no harm in some teasing hm?” he eases on his grip. “well, okay I suppose but where Taehyung?” you ask him suspicious of his intentions. “Oh, I told him to stay away from you since I knew how his ancestors were like, not nice people I’ll tell you,” You nod you head, interested in what he had to say. Maybe this would change things around, make your boring life a little more interesting.

Weeks went by and you didn’t hear from Jungkook which was of surprise to you since HE was the one pleading you almost to be friends. It was around 1am and you sat at your window watching the moon and the stars as the breeze brushes against your legs. You sigh, what a mad world you lived in? People think you’re crazy but the crazy people think you’re fascinating. Funny. You noticed little trinkets and strange objects being wedged or put outside your window. First it was some sort of herb then it was a gold chain with a rose that opened to store powders to other herbal substances in. “Nice moon right?” Jungkook smiles making you yelp nearly tumbling out of the window. “How are you in my ro-“ his finger rests on your lips and hushes you. “Shifting, finally mastered it, wanna go out for a bit and talk?” he asks and flashes a mischievous smile. “1am? Are you crazy?” You gasp. “you’re asking a vampire who eats people if they’re crazy…” you look at him and blink. “I don’t eat people only those who deserve it,” his cheeks puff up as he smiles. “okay fine lemme just ge-“ before you could finish any sentence he grabbed you around your waist and you both were somehow on the ground. “You need to stop doing that, I have motion sickness,” you breathe. “maybe you should collect some leaves for that then,” Jungkook sarcastically remarks and you groan at his incompetency to communicate without insulting you. “please, stop insulting me,” you roll your eyes. “but… you’re a bit of a idiot though… you couldn’t even figure out how to use your necklaces and utilise your herbs what if I killed you huh?” he shoved you as you walked through the empty town. “then I DIE? Oh wait you wouldn’t know that because you’re IMMORTAL!” you scoff, “bet you don’t even know how death feels like,” you cross your arms.

Jungkook laughs at you getting angry at what he says. He’s been around long enough to figure out how to tease. He looks around to see if anything was open. “there’s that diner place open,” Jungkook points. “please stop reading my thoughts, it’s weird and creepy!” You mumble and he chuckles. “Scared I’ll see something I shouldn’t?” he nudges you gently before opening the door to let you in first.

“Jungkook, long time no see,” the owner smiles with such delight as she goes to hug him. You were confused and downright shocked to see such close interaction. “this is the owner, I don’t think you met her, she’s very sweet almost like my mother,” Jungkook’s arm drapes around her shoulder. “how long have you known him for?” You ask knowing for a fact that Jungkook is a few hundred years old. “He came in a couple years ago drenched in the rain, he seemed so exhausted,”

I wonder why…

“ohh okay, fair enough, just so you know I’m not his girlfriend or anything,” you tut before sitting down. “I love the steaks here, they’re so .. tender,” Jungkook teases. “please don’t put me off-“ you raise your hand gesturing ‘stop’. He sat back and let the waitress do her job. You sat there with food in front of you and Jungkook gesturing for you to eat, “promise you wont kill me will you, I’ve had enough of the tension of you trying to kill me,” Jungkook’s eyes widen. “oh no no you got the wrong idea, I want to befriend you not k-“ he whispers, “kill you?”

“right so what DO you want,” you chew as you speak. “friendship dumb witch what else? Just a companion until you die or something,”

Great, just another person to use you again.

“mmh okay,” your unsure, monotonous voice echoes in his ears.

Since the night at the diner you had a bittersweet relationship with Jungkook and ever since that day, he began to wait outside you school to see you and hang out with you or sometimes turn up at your house. He was suspicious to you but you went with it to do your own investigating.

“Why are you here?” your harsh tone a little too harsh for Jungkook’s liking. He gazed at you and then your aunt; “hey is your niece allowed to come to mine since we have a project to study for?” he shouts out to her and she turns around elated. “oh of course anytime! Thank you for asking for permission, I’m not good at this parenting stuff,” he scratches the back of her head. “what do you think you’re doing?” your intonation increases. “a favour trust me,” he winks at you and then smiles at your aunt. “come on then, we better be going since it’s super important!”

You were confused and unsure how to react. What did he want from you that needed you to be away from the town – it was incredibly suspicious. You and Jungkook walked down the main street towards a small gap behind some buildings. “what- where are you taking me?” Your stutter and Jungkook sighs, noticeably annoyed at you for being so uncooperative. “maybe it’s easier if I just do this-“ he groans as he swipes you of your feet and all you felt was a huge gust of wind in your face. Your face, unconsciously, buried itself into Jungkook’s chest as you gripped onto his arm for safety. He needs to not use his speed on you without notice, motion sickness is not fun. After meandering through the trees and trampling over dead leaves he arrives to the destination. “if I put you down you will throw up on my stairs and I do not want that witch,” he grins as he saw your face embarrassed since he read your thoughts. “also it is not weird you buried you head into my chest, quite frankly, I enjoyed that,” he chuckles as you slap his chest defensively, “don’t make fun of me!”

He seats you down on a chair, embellished in gold and a burgundy velvet, the arms a solid wood. All the chairs were like this, the royal aura still remained. “everything is fully functioning because over the years I adapted and I fixed things here and there, the only thing not working right now is the dismantled turret,” he laughs thinking this ‘joke’ was funny. You let out a nervous laugh. You weren’t going to lie to yourself but your heart acted strangely when he showed his true self to you. “you were interested in discovering more about the castle so why not give you a tour!” as he began he gently took your hand considering you were feeling a little sick from the sudden, rapid movement. Your heart did it again, stop.

Jungkook started off with the dining and study area going into depth about how his father would do his work there and how he would sometimes fall asleep. Jungkook spent most his time in this study when he read books and learnt more about the world around him and. The grand staircase; he helped you up the stairs, hand in hand and showed you the east side and the west side. There was a locked door in one of the walls which caught your eye. “What’s this?” you ask Jungkook, “ well that used to be the execution dungeon and since my father died I never opened it once,” he continues to walk up as you nod your head affirmatively. “Finally this is my bedroom, since my one was well… destroyed,” you gulp. You look around; the brown and beige colour scheme was very modern although the lights were still chandeliers. The walls were all painted a hazelnut tone but there was gold embellishing on the side skirting. There was a combination of modern and historical aspects, it was fascinating. You felt an odd connection to the castle but you never understood why and thought nothing of it yet again. “my love looked exactly like you,” he sat down solemn on his bed and pats the space beside him for you to sit next to him. “I remember she used to pick those lavenders in the lavender fields with her maid over there,” he points out of the window where there was a windmill but the land was replaced by plain dirt. “she loved blossoming flowers, Gypsophila, she loved those,” he trailed off as he looks at a broke stem on his bed side table. “I though he’d turn her, he promised he would for me?” you stopped him there. “wait who is this ‘he’ you’re taking about?” you ask engrossed in his own history. “Seokjin, member of one of the first ever vampires, he turned me for no reason other than boredom,” he groans in annoyance, “why me?”

“does he not visit now and then or is he just travelling all the time?” you ask. “of course, he’s living his life, committing crimes, getting the women he loves and left a hopeless, family-less prince alone for years, he lied to me,” his voice cracked. “Hey, don’t worry it must’ve been hard for you to be alone all these years and fend for yourself! That’s just cruel,” your hand settles on his shoulder and he falls to your lap. “now, you’re the only friend I have and who doesn’t think I’m insane…” he begins “but the downside is you look like her and I don’t know what to feel?”

You needed answers. Everything he said made sense although you needed to find out more and your grandmother’s friends were the place to go… at some point.

As you sat at a table in the cafeteria with Jimin and Yoongi you scroll through your messages from your aunt since you searched for any contacts your grandmother left behind. There was one person who you knew quite well though you needed some time to visit her. “what are you doing, you’ve been so distant from us we don’t hang out anymore?” Yoongi confronts your odd behaviours, “yeah you have and it feels like you don’t want to hang out because we saw-“ Yoongi eyes Jimin to be quiet. What was being said about you? “what? Saw what?” you ask looking at them both, “the dude that waits for you outside like everyday, you never said you got into a relationship?” Jimin crossed his arms. “look, that isn’t my boyfriend for starters, he just needs some help with finding someone who was close to me,” you lie a bit, “he’s just someone who knows my family and I’m helping him until he leaves, don’t get mad at me for it,” you pleaded. They both look at each other and nod; “fine, I’m assuming you’re busy today too?” Yoongi sips at his drink. You nod. “as I thought, alright no problem we’ll organise something some other time,”

Phew. You were off the hook. After school that day, you went home to pack a bag with some necessary items like your portable charger, some snacks, your purse, a hair tie and just an extra set of clothes if you got stuck somewhere. “hey Aunt, I’m going to visit grandmother’s friend, is that okay?” you ask her ad she stares as your bag. “how long for sweetie?” she points, “oh not too long, I just have stuff in there for emergencies since buses don’t go there often,” you nod. “hmm okay, fine keep messaging me and updated! Be safe,” She waves. You open the door and Jungkook stands there, a new phone in his hand. “got an upgrade!” he smiles “wait, where are you off to?” he asks as he follows you to the bus stations. “no where, just go home,” you mutter. “no tell me or I’ll read your mind!” he threatens -playfully of course- , and you stop walking. “just leave me alone this once and let me find something out alone without you constantly invading my privacy! Get a grip vampire!” your tone was harsh and frustrated. “there was no need for that but apologies witch, I’ll leave you, farewell.” His smile faded and his playful face vanished. He turned around and walked away without turning back and eventually disappeared into the dark nothingness.

You tried to brush it off but to think that’s how his past lover might’ve acted towards him made you feel guilty. The bus was empty, as dead as night, only a few travellers boarding to visit people or for other reasons that no one knows about. The engine growled as the driver sighed as he waited for all the passengers to board. You situated yourself on the left, three rows from the back placing your bag next to you so no one sat with you. The bus jolted and began to move out of the bay it was parked in; the journey began. The stars covered the bleak sky and your head rested on the cold glass of the bus. Your phone flashes blue; “hope your journey is safe!” it was Jimin sending you a text message. Your grandmother’s friend’s house was around 2 hours away so the journey was a long one indeed and the last stop was directly near her home. During the trip you drifted off and the dream you had felt like a message. You saw fire, blazing flames and hear shrieks and screams but from your point of view, you were running far far away. You saw a carriage and a white horse which you climbed into and you began to go somewhere, like it was an escape. The area was a rural area, with flower fields and a windmill – one of which you recognised- although there is where you dream stopped and the bus driver was standing next to your seat. “Sorry ma’am but this is the last stop, are you getting off here?” he asks you a little concerned. “oh yeah that’s fine, this is the stop I needed anyway!” you frantically grab your bags and run off the bus. There was barely any lights except for one house which was visibly your grandmothers friends home. You remember the windmill behind her home and the large flower field that stretched out for miles. You knock on the door and it immediately opens. “I was expecting you darling,” she smiles as she lets you in to get warm and comfortable.

“I know what you’re here, I’ve been feeling a strange energy for a couple months, something supernatural?” she utters, “am I right that you’ve encountered supernatural energy?” she asks straightforwardly. “how did you even know” you ask her your mouth semi gaping open. “your grandmother left me a few things and one of them was a necklace connected to you,” she smiles as she shows her wrist with the stone with your initial on it. “ like voodoo?” your eyes widen. “no silly, it’s to keep you protected,” she smiles setting down an herbal tea in front of you. You sip it and it tasted bitter; “sweet isn’t it?” the woman asks, “you can call me your grandmother by the way.” You look at her strangely. “is the tea supposed to be sweet because it’s too bitter?” the ‘grandmother’ shakes her head, “you’ve been interacting with this supernatural energy, have you been put under compulsion,” she asks concerned. “well that’s why I’m here, I met the Vampire Prince and he said that I look like his past love or something and that there’s a strong connection with me and his past so I came here for you to look at my past life?” you explain to her briefly. “past life? Connection to THE vampire prince? I haven’t heard of him in years I thought he was killed that’s what my great grandmother told your grandmother before she passed?” she thought carefully, “okay what did you want to know? Your past life?” she asks again, and you nod your head sure and certain that’s what you wanted to do.

You sat in the armchair and she began to speak to you until you suddenly went into a dream like state. From then you had no idea what was happening in the real world.

Your past life was blessed with riches and wealth. You were in your early 20’s and had a good life til then. You had a cousin who was by your side all the time and you spent most of your time together in the lavender fields and at banquets with your past life father’s family. There was a lot of gold and white, lace and silk. You wrote long hand written letters and sealed them, storing them in a brown tea stained envelope with a rosemary tied to it with a small length of tweed string. From the riches and wealth it declined after you ran away from a castle, your pearl earring falling from your ear. You also tried to run away but were stopped by another entity and that’s when you passed away.

So it did make sense. You were a perfect reincarnated version of the vampire prince’s first love. It made sense how you were a witch too, it made sense how your parents were murdered. It was the hunters trying to cleanse the town of all witches since they sided with the vampires. You opened your eyes from your hypnosis and felt your cheeks wet. “don’t worry, now you have your answer use it wisely,” she says as she goes to the kitchen. Maybe seeing Jungkook next might be the next best idea. Although tonight you had to stay here since it was already late enough and your grandmother’s friends let you stay for the night.

Jungkook sat on his bed looking at the stem on his bedside table. He sighed wishing he could bring her back but what use was there if she grew a bitterness to him because of him being a vampire. The new version of her was so much more open minded and considerate. She was different but also the same but all that mattered is that he felt accepted by you. Perhaps the Prince was falling in love again and wouldn’t that be predictable if he felt accepted. “it could’ve been this way if you weren’t so afraid and trusted me…” he whispered to himself, a tear trailing down his cheek. He was certain he was falling for you, he could feel a change after all these years. Finally he felt the burden raise from his shoulders and he felt like he can move on with someone new. Change has come.

Your route home was early the next morning. The bus arrived at 8am so you needed to take that bus home so you could at least attend you afternoon classes. The bus was fuller, and you had to sit next to someone. You gave them an awkward smile and sat down although they didn’t acknowledge you at all and ignored you. 2 hours felts too long but you dealt with it. Fast forward to when you arrived, you went home to grab your books to go attend classes. You felt some ease knowing your past and your connections it also seems like Taehyung transferred elsewhere after the threats he got from Jungkook. You seat yourself in your class and Jimin hands you over the notes taken for another class, you mouth ‘thank you’ as you take them off him. “how was your trip?” Jimin asked. “it was okay, actually it was great!” you smiled. Something seemed to have changed since to left for a day.

When your afternoon classes ended, you walked out with Yoongi and Jimin waving them goodbye since they had other plans for the evening. You see Jungkook leaning against the fence waiting for you and waved at you. He has a glow today and seemed really ecstatic. “hey, are you alrig-“ before you could even finish your sentence he pulled you into a hug. “I feel great,” he smiles, “wanna grab a coffee? It’s on me,” he smiles, his bunny like teeth showing. It was truly endearing. You nod your head, “of course!” the change of behaviour making you feel something in your stomach. Butterflies? Possibly, yes.

You sit at a table in a rustic looking coffee house and Jungkook goes to order two coffees, one being a caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle and a black coffee with an extra espresso shot. “ you seem so happy today? Whats up,” you ask him drinking your black coffee. He smiles shyly, you’ve never seen this side of him before; “I guess I’ve moved on after all these years,” he sips his sweet drink, “I found someone else,” Oh someone else… “is she pretty do I know her?” you pretend to act dumb. “yes, yes you are.” He looks at your, eyes full of love. It made sense, his past lover was bitter towards him and the universe let him start again with you. “me?” you point at yourself, “don’t be stupid why wo-“ he interrupts, “because you accepted me, no one else did and if they did it was the work of compulsion.” He gulped. “I mean it would be wrong for a vampire and a witch to be together any way right?” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t think so…” you began to let your suppressed feelings seep through. “it’s not a crime is it, to love someone who makes you feel the way you do?” you begin to mumble nervous that the words spewing out of your mouth made sense. “are you telling me Little Witch that you shared the same feelings,” his cockiness took over again. “oh my god you ruined the moment with your cockiness!” you swing your head back in frustration, “yes yes I do, is that clear enough?”

Despite you being passive aggressive, he found it charming. After your lowkey coffee date, you both walked along the stream that was near the town with beautiful greenery. His hand nervously tried to slip into yours as you walked but he freaked out every time. “what’s wrong, the herbs getting to you?” you tease. “huh what, what herbs are you trying to poison me!” he pretends being over dramatic. “The herbs behind those mushrooms there,” you point and go to collect them into your little metal tin box. “don’t worry I’ll wash my hands in the stream so you can hold it, it’s getting pretty heavy for me,” you cringed at your pick up line but Jungkook appreciated it. “with your advice, I borrowed a book from someone that was passed down for generations so I can practice witchcraft properly!” You tell Jungkook as his hand holds yours. “wow you actually took my advice,” he becomes shy. “this isn’t like you, you’re usually so confident and cocky,” you laugh before he smiles and uses his speed to push you up against a tree as he looks at you with eyes full or adoration. “is this more like me now?” his fingers brushing down the side of your cheeks and tucking your hair behind your ear. He admired every inch of your face and you stared back at him in awe. Without anything being said he had his first kiss with you after all these years waiting for the other version of you. The kiss only lasted a couple seconds since it was a peck and he moved back and lovingly gazed into your eyes for a little bit before your hands cupped his jaw and brought it closer to your lips for something a little more meaningful than a peck. Although midway through the kiss, drops of rainfall plunged from the grey clouds looming above you. “ugh,” Jungkook groaned before he swiped you up again, “hang on tight,” he smiled sweetly before speeding to his home sheltering you from the rain. “are you feeling okay because I know last time you weren’t feeling the best.” He asked you. “yes I’m fine,” you brush yourself down from where the rain did catch you.

Months passed and your relationship with him grew. You were both at your happiest until Seokjin came to visit one day. “I see you found another one,” he scoffs, “what a lousy vampire you are!” he leans against the wall of his castle. “leave her alone, I know what you did to my first love!” Jungkook growls. “or what? Are you going to kill me,” you laughs manically. “being a vampire means being alone and just using people for your own good,” Seokjin was cold, “either you break her heart or I will, your choice” he threatens. “Seokjin, leave, just go I don’t know what you’re on my tail,” Jungkook yells. “you’re a vampire not a wolf idiot, and because you are one of my creations,” he laughs again. “you wouldn’t kill her,” Jungkook states, “you’re right I wouldn’t, but I can kill you and devour your corpse, your choice…”

He leaves again but his words meant nothing to Jungkook. Was there a reason to why he killed his first love and threatened him about Jungkook’s current girlfriend now? There was. A hidden history no one knew about, not even Jungkook. He ignored him and continued his relationship with you inviting you to his castle that day. “hey, what’s wrong?” you ask him, embracing him after the phone call you had. “can you stay with me today?” he asks. “yeah I can but what’s wrong?” Jungkook didn’t reply. He didn’t speak but he arms wrapped around your body and embraced you back. “just be with me, like this for a little while,” little did you know he was battling an actual war with Seokjin but he refused to let anything get between you and him. He would risk his life for you, fight for you. Losing himself would be better than losing you and he lived by that. Beneath the ‘Vampire Prince’ image was just a poor boy who lost everything. You lean back and lift his head up as it was drooping so low. Without any notice, his lips landed carefully onto yours and his arm around your waist pulls you closer although the atmosphere was different. He was scared and desperate. He said nothing but only a small apology left his lips. He was gentle and slow but began to feel desperate for more than a mere kiss. His kisses trail down the side of your lip to your jaw and as much as you trusted him you were a little frightened at his cravings. “don’t-” you panic. He looks at you with pleading eyes, “I promise, I will never hurt you,” his voice cracked. He was deceived and left stranded to be killed by his previous lover, you were his only anchor now. He began to get slightly more passionate that before and using his speed abilities, you found yourself in his bedroom, you still between his arms. You knew he wouldn’t cross the line, he wanted whatever you wanted, and this is where you were most comfortable with. Jungkook proceeded to continue his actions moving closer to his bed and gently laying you down as he situated himself over you. The passion within him was burning like a fire, he was waiting for the day he could care for the love of his life.

Star crossed lovers. The universe tested you and will continue to do so. Was love such a crime? All Jungkook knew was to keep you safe even if it meant risking it all, he didn’t want to be in such excruciating pain ever again. Even if he was happy with you, he was paranoid and scared of all the possibilities that could happen but right now it was just you, him and the history that combined your love together and satisfied you both. Each-others presence was enough and if Seokjin ever took you away from him, let there be war.

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turkeyspamsandwhich · 4 years

Text

With all of the new information from chapter 290, I was thinking about what could happen after the arc. And I don’t have anyone to talk to about my thoughts so I’m posting about them. This will be long and probably won’t want to read it but I hope that you enjoy it!

Even though everyone probably already knows *Spoiler Warning*

All of the debate about Dabi/Touya and what’s to happen to him, is he going to die, get consequences of his actions, or be redeemed? Honestly having him killed off would be a lazy route, since Twice is gone and Shigaraki mostly is going to die as well. And personally I wouldn’t like it because I feel Endeavor wouldn’t actually face his past. Kinda like punishing the abused and rewarding the abuser.

I also feel like the LOV will be done after this arc in a way because they’ve lost a lot of members and it may be set for the time skip after this arc with Shigaraki and AFO gone. So the idea of Dabi/Touya becoming the new main threat doesn’t make sense to me, but it’s still a possibility.

Dabi/Touya isn’t mentally well. He’s dealing with PTSD of his past and because of never getting mental help, his mind only got worse. His sense of reality is not right and he hasn’t had anyone to help him for years. Even during his abuse he had Natsuo, but after his death there was no one. His abuse broke him so severely, he only thought of ways to hurt the person who caused it and how he could get revenge. He wasn’t thinking of his family and the actions could affect them. He just wanted the world to know what Endeavor did to him. And he has every right to expose his abuser, he is the victim when it comes to the past and Endeavor cannot atone if he’s going to hide what he did. Still it does hurt the rest of the family, because it seems like they didn’t want it to go public, except maybe Natsuo but he was willing to try for Fuyumi. Does that mean Dabi/Touya doesn’t care about them? I think he does in a sense, he couldn’t stop his negative feelings for his father, so how could he stop his positive ones for the rest of his family. He may have surprised them but not gotten rid of them. I believe he cares about Natsuo the most. I’m unsure about Rei, it seems he does care with the information we have but still eh. Fuyumi, I have no idea honestly. And we know he sees Shoto as a puppet. Just because the way he outed his abuse in a selfish manner doesn’t mean he hates his family. I also feel Natsuo would play a big part if there is a redemption.

Now some of the things I’m thinking could happen. He faces the consequences of his actions. He may go to prison, because he did murder innocent people. His abuse doesn’t cancel out the wrong he has done. Thirty people lost their lives because of him. Even if those people were villains as well, doesn’t mean he had the right to take their lives. If he does go to jail I could see it similar to Overhaul, chained up forever. Or maybe the family’s influence/money could help him out and instead he’s put in a mental ward. He may be stuck there forever but he would get the much help he needs badly. I feel this is likely if he’s not killed in the arc, just like Overhaul.

Redemption. That’s a huge conflict with many people. Personally.......I want to see it, I want to see the victim get help so badly. I want to see them get help and become a better person. He still would need to face consequences of his actions of murdering people, and every terroristic act he has done while in the LOV. His actions are still his own regardless of the trauma he has faced, but if he didn’t have this trauma he wouldn’t have done any of these things. He was a broken child turned into a broken adult, all he knows is his pain of the past, he can’t move on and now he’s stuck in the cycle of abuse.

He has a problem with Shoto due to him becoming Endeavour’s new “favorite.” He doesn’t see Shoto as a person but a doll of his father’s, and he had planned to kill him, because he thought it would get him his father's love and attention. Which isn’t that strange, because I’ve seen that happen with children in abusive households. They still crave their parents' love and want it regardless of the parents hurting them. They turn their anger towards the person they think is taking that away from them, example the favored sibling.

Yet even though he's done and planned horrible things, that doesn’t mean he can’t get redeemed. Horrible people have been redeemed in anime before, ones that have done even worse things than Dabi/Touya. It’s possible for him to become a better person, maybe a good person, I don’t see him changing over to the hero’s side but more neutral. I think it’s possible, I don’t know if it will happen though. But we have seen it before and the character that came to mind was Gaara.

Now despite being a huge Naruto fan, I haven’t read the manga since the ending which was a loooooong time ago. And I’m not watching Boruto like at all, I refuse. I still remember a lot of it and there’s so many complex characters in Naruto that have done terrible things, but we’re saved and redeemed. Some even become fan favorites. Most of the characters I’m going to get into are from Naruto but I’ll get to them in a bit but right now I want to focus on Gaara.

Neglected by his family, and hated by everyone else. He was taken advantage of by his village and abused to become the perfect weapon. He killed so many people, regardless of who they were, if they had a family or not. No he wanted bloodshed and chaos, because that’s all he knew. Gaara became a psychotic killer whose goal was to everyone in his way to prove his own existence. It could be argued that he was a child at the time he did these things but that still doesn’t excuse his actions. Plus he mostly killed many more than Dabi/Touya, yet he was still redeemed. Naruto saw the pain in him and could understand why he became the way he was, even admitting he could have ended up like him if it wasn’t for his friends. He saved him and Gaara became a new person free from his past and pain. He got to have a family and gained friends. He became the Kazekage and was loved by his people, who once looked at him in fear and disgust now looked at him in admiration. He did unspeakable things but he got a second chance and did amazing things with it.

Itachi killed his whole clan, yes he did it so they couldn’t start a war but that doesn’t erase that he murdered innocent people. Even though the reason he couldn’t kill Sasuke was because he loved him too much he still left his little brother with no one and trauma. That’s horrible for a child to go through. Sasuke had nobody to turn to now he lost not only his family but he got to see his brother, who was the one person who he idolized the most. And yes later on, both the audience and Sasuke learned the truth about Itachi. He really was such a good person regardless of him being a good person he did bad things even if it was for the greater good. Once the truth was out people could relate to him, understand why he did the things he did, and he also became a fan favorite and now is seen as a hero. His trauma made him want to do good and his motives were different than Dabi/Touya’s but he still took innocent lives.

Now I want to touch a bit on this character, because they were a favorite of mine. However, I wasn’t the biggest Soul Eater fan so my knowledge isn’t as good. Crona actually had a very similar situation to Shoto and Dabi/Touya, their mother experimented on them and made them into her perfect weapon kind of like how Endeavor wanted to make his children into the perfect tool to dethrone All Might. They were mentally unwell and were made to kill people, and took many lives. Still Maka and her friends, spared them and took them in and showed them love.

The last one I want to get into is Zabuza. He was a killer for hire and did unspeakable things for money. He was willing to kill the team Kakashi, which had three children for his mission. Killing children is one of the worst things. During his journey, he met Haku and formed a bond that I don’t think he noticed until it was too late. And while his redemption doesn’t seem as grand as others, he got a pretty amazing one for what kind of person he was before. After Haku’s death, he turned on Gatō and his gang, and killed them. That saved the village directly even though he just wanted revenge. At the end, as he’s dying he gets to lay next to Haku and have a moment and that changed the way people viewed him. It left an impact on Naruto as well. His story has similarities to Dabi/Touya, they both killed to get their goal even though it wasn’t right.

There are so many more characters I could get into like Vegeta, who literally destroyed planets with whole civilizations. Isabella from the promised neverland, who fed children to demons. Obito and Nagato, who tried to end the whole world. So many JoJo characters, I can’t even begin to think of, but the point is redemption is possible.

So honestly a redemption isn’t that far fetched for Dabi/Touya, even with his crimes, and it would be nice for a villain to be redeemed because we haven’t really seen that in this series. And yes I’m a bit biased but I enjoy his characters, but now it’s mostly because I want the victim to find peace and be able to let go of the past. He is still a victim of Endeavor’s abuse, because he is still trapped in it. I want to see a victim get a second chance, but he still has to face the consequences of his actions. He doesn’t get a free pass because he was abused, it’s a reasoning not an excuse.

Also you could say the same for Endeavor deserving a second chance, but I can’t get behind a child abuser and wife beater. That’s the same reason I don’t like Overhaul like many others, touching a child in any way doesn’t sit right with me. So I was never behind Endeavor’s redemption, but I supported and understood the people who were into it. In the end, it’s up to Horikoshi about what will happen to both Dabi/Touya and Endeavor. I know either way it will be an amazing story.

Thank you to anyone who actually read my ramblings. Sorry if the formatting is weird, I typed it out in my phone. I hope you enjoyed this too long rant. And to anyone who disagrees with anything I said, I understand and respect your decision. But don’t be immature and rude about it, it’s not hard to debate people in an adult manner. We all have our own options and it’s fine to disagree but don’t be hurtful to those whose opinions differ for yours.

#dabi #touya todoroki #bnha #bnha 290 #endeavor #dabi is a todoroki #rei todoroki #natsuo todoroki

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phykios · 4 years

Text

the marble king, part 10 [read on ao3]

His wife had taken ill, a statement that was simultaneously the best and worst one Percy had ever thought up in his short, eventful life. It was the best, because of the simple fact that Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter was his wife. At night they shared a bed, and during the day they shared each other’s company. Though she did not love him, and had only married him in a bid to, rather ironically, retain her freedom, she wished for him to stay at her side, and he was blessed with her presence in turn.

Yet it was also the worst, because Annabeth, the love of his life, had taken ill.

He worried for her constantly; her pain was his pain, and the thought of something happening to her was simply unthinkable. Consumed with anxiety, he did what he always had done since they had been children, and he was overwhelmed by the magnitude of his own feelings. When he found her throwing up over the side of the boat for the fourth morning in a row, he swallowed his fears, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“The sea never used to affect you this strongly.” Percy teased, even as he rubbed at her back. “What would all the other shieldmaidens say if they could see you now?”

She only groaned in response. He offered his handkerchief as she made to whip her mouth on her cloak. Once she was cleaned, she exhaled, leaning against him.

“And to think, your father told me your family was descended from an Aesir sea god,” Percy continued, offering his own sea strength to steady her.

“Vanir,” Annabeth said. “We are descended from a Vanir god, who in turn was descended from a sea god.” Percy only had the vaguest idea of what that meant, based on Alejandra’s stories, but he so loved to hear her correcting him once more, even when she was feeling poorly, for it meant she was still herself.

“Regardless, the sea flows through your veins, Anja,” he jested, tone light. Many of these northern words felt odd in his mouth, but he loved to speak her given name. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That neither Frey nor Njord were gods of motherhood,” she moaned.

His thoughts stuttering, he frowned at her for several long seconds. “Motherhood? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything, phykios.” She groaned, her head resting on his shoulder, and her hand going to her stomach.

Like fog dissolving in the morning sun, the meaning came to him, quickly and suddenly. But surely it could not be so; they’d only laid together once.

Gently, terrifyingly, he placed his hand on top of hers, over her belly. He could not sense a difference through her clothes. “You are pregnant?” Percy whispered. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

“Yes.”

Percy felt tears prick his eyes. Were he less in control of his feelings, he would have taken her by the hand, lifted her up, and spun her around in elation. “You are with child?”

“I am,” she confirmed. Pulling back from him a bit, she looked at him, eyes keen and discerning. “Do you mind?” Her words were mild, yet in her tone, he could sense just the barest hint of trepidation, of fear of disapproval.

“Mind!” He laughed, a few of his tears escaping. “Of course not!”

Energy surging through his limbs, he nearly stood up and began to dance. Annabeth, his wife, his truest companion from his earliest days, pregnant with his child! They were to have a family together! How could he not be so elated, when this was every dream of his come true?

But then, he then realized, while children had been his most secret desire, it had not, necessarily, been hers. It had not even been the point of their marriage. Annabeth had married him for freedom from; to be trapped in motherhood, tied down with a child, may have been the very thing she hoped to avoid. “Are,” he swallowed, suddenly afraid, “are you very displeased?”

“Displeased? I…” She held his gaze for a long moment, looking on him with wide, uncertain eyes, and then shook her head. “No. As long as you are not unhappy, then neither am I.”

“I am happy,” he said quickly. “I am very, very happy. Ever since dear, sweet Esther was born, I always imagined myself to be a father one day. I simply thought it would be impossible.” Demigod lives, particularly those of his more immediate, more powerful peers, were short and bright and violent--to say nothing of his financial situation. As well, there was that fact that he had had a difficult time dreaming of children who had not been mothered by Annabeth.

“So you are not upset,” she asked again, seeking confirmation.

“I am most certainly not upset,” he promised her.

He was ecstatic. His whole self felt lighter, happier, better than it had in years, and not just since the fall of their city, but several years before that, at least. Annabeth, his wife, his great love, building a family with him… it had been a dream far too fragile to speak of. And now it had come true.

Her unsure expression, however, caused him to temper his outward reflection. Just as he opened his mouth to question if she required anything, she once again leaned over the edge of the boat, and vomited into the sea below.

“There, there,” he said, rubbing at her back, making sure to keep her cloak and dress, billowing in the wind, out of the way so it would not get dirty. “Come, sit.” he said, after she had caught her breath, submitting to his guiding her to a bench. “Can I get you anything?”

She waved off his offer, eyes closed against the salt spray. “These are normal parts of pregnancy, I am given to understand. When I spoke with the cook at my cousin’s house, her warnings made me fear it would be worse than it has been.”

His jaw dropped. “You knew before we left your family?”

She glanced at him, a little scathing. “A woman knows these things, Percy.”

Of that, he had no doubt--but that was not the issue here. “It cannot be safe for you to travel like this.” His earlier fear gripped him, curling cold fingers around his heart. He looked out at the sea around them, the breadth of his father’s domain now transformed into a dark, terrible labyrinth, where dangers lurked about every corner. “You should not have left your cousin’s house.”

“You were going to leave me there,” she accused.

“No, I--” he began to argue, before cutting himself off. She was correct, of course, though not for the reasons she assumed, and sadly, there was no good manner in which he could explain why, not without divulging all the secrets of his heart, and causing her more discomfort. “I wanted--I want you to have as happy and comfortable and challenging a life as possible. I had thought you would find that among your family and the politics of the Kalmar Union, but, I swear, if you had told me of the baby, I would have chosen differently.”

Happily he would have tolerated the strange food and horrid climates of Svealand forever for her sake, for his family’s sake. He thought once again of the parade of little girls dressed as Saint Lucy, then imagined his own daughter, with Annabeth’s blonde curls and grey eyes, joining it. His heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“We are not so far from your family, and a long way off from Italy,” he said. It would be a simple enough task for him--he did not even have to inform the captain. “We can still turn back, so you might have your confinement and give birth in all comfort.” Her father and Magnus would want nothing more than to take care of her in her condition, and she would far more likely welcome their concern than his.

“We are going to Italy,” she said, mouth set.

“But if you are unwell--”

“I am fine,” she snapped. “We are going to Italy, and there we shall have our child. Does that thought upset you?”

So caught off guard by her tone, he almost missed the most delightful and pleasing combination of words to ever exist: our child . His and Annabeth’s child. The most precious gift he had ever received, the dream of a lifetime.

“It does not,” he said, though he could not entirely quiet his internal concern. “If it is what you wish-- what you truly wish--then we shall continue on to Venice.”

They held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, imparting such thoughts and feelings as neither of them could understand. Then she smiled, beautiful, yet somehow sad. “Surely,” she said, “you wish to raise your child on the shores of your father’s sea.”

She knew him far too well, for he could not deny the appeal.

Then, all of a sudden, he was gripped by an overwhelming fear: Annabeth was with child . Even the most formidable fighter could only do so much while burdened with carrying another life. He remembered how his mother, heavy with little Esther, struggled to walk to and from the local market. What if they should come across another band of cruel bandits? What if she should hurt herself on the road to Italy, or if Percy should find himself injured or ill, unable to help her or protect her?

Seemingly from nowhere, a small bundle of white fur appeared at their feet, and the little cat jumped up beside them, giving a perfunctory sniff to the fabric of Annabeth’s dress before climbing on top of her, pressing her paws back and forth on her thigh the way Percy’s mother used to prepare her bread. Satisfied, then, she walked in a circle before settling down for her midmorning nap, tucking her paws beneath her body.

Admittedly, Percy had been somewhat skeptical of the cat, which Annabeth had taken to calling “Freya.” He liked animals, cats as well as dogs equally, and cats did seem to take a special liking to him. He remembered fondly the many cats of Constantinople following him after a hard day’s work, looking up with expectant eyes as they sweetly begged for part of his daily catch, then absconded with his discards into the dark city alleyways. So while he did not mind Freya’s presence, she seemed to distinctly prefer his wife, sticking to Annabeth’s side like a burr on cloth, laying ownership to her lap, sometimes hissing at strange people who got too close.

Percy could sympathize, on several points.

From Danzig, then, he decided, they would set out on the Via Imperii . Were it yet summer, perhaps they could have sailed the whole way to Venice, but he feared the might of spring storms, and would not risk her life, nor their child’s, for something as intangible as expediency. He remembered well, too, how their voyage upriver had sapped him of his strength until he had been unable to do naught but sleep; to exert himself to exhaustion on the open sea, miles away from any shore or safe harbor, could prove even more disastrous.

Immediately, Annabeth’s hands descended on the cat, scratching the underside of her chin with one while the other stroked the length of her back, and Freya purred, loud enough Percy could hear it even over the crashing waves, blinking her eyes sleepily back up at her. His wife smiled, quite taken with their furry companion.

There was so much more at stake now, he realized. Not just his own health, nor hers, but the health and safety of the life they had made together. In his heart, he swore on a river whose name had once struck fear into the hearts of men and gods alike, he would work every day to prove himself worthy of this woman who made such sacrifices for his sake.

Aloud, he merely said, “Thank you.” Two words which could not encompass all the gratitude he held for her. Were he able to pay her back its weight in gold, she would be the richest woman in the world.

Annabeth cast him a fond, if tired, look, her countenance still vaguely green. “Do not thank me yet,” she said. “I am told that it gets much, much worse.”

“I look forward to it,” Percy replied, turning his face into the sun.

***

He had hoped that Annabeth’s sickness would lessen once they returned to dry land. But after three days traveling through Pomerania , she was still sick in the mornings.

“Your child preferred the sea, methinks.” Annabeth said as Percy passed her water. She smiled her thanks and drank deeply. “But it could be much worse, I suppose. I’ve heard it said that many people feel the sickness all day, for weeks. Mine is, at the very least, limited to the earliest morning hours--and you have been most accommodating.”

With their not inconsiderable fortune, Percy had managed to procure for them a cart and a horse, so that they could keep up a lively pace while allowing Annabeth to rest as much as she required. “I have not been accommodating,” Percy protested. “You are with child.” My child , he did not say, but thought it, giddily. “It is the very least that I could do.”

“Well, regardless,” she said, “it is very appreciated.” Then she groaned, dropping her head forward.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out a hand to steady her.

“Have we any more food? I am ravenous.”

They did, because Percy wished to spare no expense on his wife and hopeful daughter. And besides, it was Annabeth’s money, they should spend as much on her comfort as needed. They’d left the inn early in the morning, but he had gotten them some bread and hard cheese before they had begun the journey. “Here, have the rest,” he said, handing them to her.

But she pushed the parcel away. “No, no, have we anything else?”

He did not, but he would not let himself fall into a panic. “When we arrive in Stettin ,” he promised, “I shall purchase whatever it is you desire. Tell me, if there were anything in the world that you could have, what would it be?”

Whatever she needed, he would do his best to provide: that was the vow he had taken, and this was merely his first challenge.

Thoughtful, she looked towards the clouds, her lip between her teeth.

“...Olives,” she said. “I would be very happy for some olives.”

Percy laughed. Of course. Athena’s proclivity for the fruit was renowned. “Then olives it is, my lady.”

It was a simple enough task, on the surface, to procure some olives for his pregnant wife. As a child living on the shores of the great Roman lake, olives had been plentiful and ubiquitous; at the agoge , the children of Demeter and Athena had cultivated a small grove of olive trees, partially for their own use, but also to sell at market. Though there had been neither olives nor olive oil in Svealand, as it was far too expensive to import from so far South, Percy assumed that he would be able to locate some here on the continent. Stettin was the Northernmost city on the Via Imperii , and surely some of the stuff must have wound its way through the lands controlled by the Legion.

Day after day, town after town, any time they passed through a settlement, they stopped at market so that Annabeth could rest, and Percy could scour the stalls and alleys for olives--and day after day, town after town, he found none. Not a single hamlet between Danzig and Stettin carried the malakes fruit. Every day he would return to his wife empty handed, and every day she would smile at him, her eyes shining, and thanked him for trying.

Her cravings continued. He could sense it, the way he could sense a storm, her mood souring as the days dragged on.

They stayed an extra night in Stettin to let the horses rest. It was a Monday, the start of a fresh, new week, the day the merchants and farmers brought in their weekly produce. Surely, Percy thought, perhaps foolishly, surely a market of such a large city would have even a small bottle of olive oil? What civilized city did not have a healthy supply of the stuff? Rome had once spanned nearly the entire continent; the well worn roads were proof of it. Surely, they had left some sort of culinary mark.

Apparently, he was a fool. The only oil to be found was made from pumpkin seeds--a favorite of some of the members of the Legion. He knew it to be bland, tasteless, and not at all fit for his wife. As for the olives, the merchants all looked at him as though he had grown a second head, those who understood a little Italian anyway, for those who could not merely stared at him as he fumbled his way through the few Frankish words which he knew.

He felt oddly numb, returning to their accommodations empty-handed. Would she be disappointed? Would she regret leaving the comfort and security of Svealand, where all her needs had been provided for?

Yet she had merely shrugged, brushing her hair with the comb that she had pilfered from Alejandra. “It is no great hardship,” she said, a little distantly, as all her attention was focused on the task in her hands. “I shall survive without it.”

On their bed, Freya the cat yawned, very sweetly, before readjusting her position, standing up and walking in a circle, then settling down and returning to her slumber.

“Still,” said Percy, “I recall the many trials and tribulations which my mother endured before she had borne my sister; if there is something which I can do to ease your burden at all, I should very much like to do so.”

Sighing sharply through her nose, Percy tensed, fearful that she would refuse him outright out of pride, only for him to relax as she merely tugged her comb through a particularly stubborn knot of hair. His fingers twitched in the folds of his clothes, his very nerve endings alight with the mere thought of feeling the soft, golden strands for themselves. He felt, somewhat worryingly, as though he had begun to develop a minor obsession with the feeling of her hair, every time it brushed up against his skin as she moved against him on the cart, or rolled over towards him in their shared bed. To watch her daily ritual, an act so tired and uneventful to her, yet one so captivating to him, with such eagerness and attention would have seemed, on any other man, to be the mark of ill-temperament and evil tidings. Percy, however, was able to content himself with merely looking.

“In truth,” she said, “it is not the olives themselves which I crave, though there is not much I would not do for such a treasure. Just as your child preferred the sea, I can only assume that my current propensity for salt is your doing as well.”

“Salt?”

“Salt,” she confirmed. “Any salty food will do, I think.”

“Salt,” he repeated, suddenly thoughtful. Salty foods were certainly in great supply here in the North; now a whole new world had been opened to him. Then--”You believe that I am the cause of this?” he asked, frowning.

Indelicate, she raised a brow at him. “Are you not? Why else would I have such a craving for saltwater?”

“I thought you wished for olives.”

“Olives?” She made a face. “I think not.”

Percy blinked, feeling as though he had missed a vital step in their conversation. “I beg your pardon?”

Huffing, she threw her comb down, evidently done with her grooming for the night. “Never you mind! I wish to retire.” She stood, undoing the various ties and laces of her dress, while Percy stared at her in slack-jawed awe and confusion. “Go and… cavort with a young man, if one should make himself available to you.”

Then throwing back the covers of the bed, disturbing poor, sweet, Freya, who leapt to the floor, her ears turned back in displeasure, she climbed underneath them, turning away from Percy.

It was barely evening. The sun could still be seen from the window.

“I… very well,” he said, carefully. “If it please you, I shall go and fetch us some food.”

“Do whatever you wish,” she replied, muffled by the sheets. “Good night.”

Feeling very much as though he had just summoned, and then subsequently banished, a hurricane, Percy retreated from their rented room, shutting the door as quickly and quietly as possible so as not to disturb his wife.

That was… unusual.

Not, the constant, shifting hunger pangs, mind; his mother had had similar, if perhaps less intense, culinary desires which could turn on a lira at any given moment. In truth, there was much about pregnancy for which he had already been prepared, having assisted his mother in the arrival of his little sister. When a woman was suffering such emotional and mental torment, it was best not to argue with her, and to placate her as quickly and thoroughly as one could, something which Percy was more than happy to do. No, what was strange was her peculiar comment, her order for him to go and seek out the company of someone else--of another man.

To abandon his wife for the pleasures of another was unthinkable, and not in the least because his spouse just so happened to be, in a bizarre twist of fate, the great love of his life. Again, he recalled how his mother would occasionally spit curses at her loving husband for the most minor of infractions, so the fact that Annabeth, who had tied herself to him in order to escape the pressures of an uncaring, unfamiliar political snare, who had, presumably, not gone into the arrangement expecting or even desiring of a child, and who, historically, had only barely tolerated his presence, was to be expected.

That she had specified he should search for the company of another man was the odd detail in this situation.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him how he had not eaten since this morning, so consumed was he in the hunt for olives, and so he made his way downstairs to the ground floor of the inn, to purchase some dinner for himself--and for Annabeth also, who would almost certainly be ravenous when she awoke, and hopefully, in something of a happier mood.

***

They had picked up a fellow traveler in the city of Lipsi , who had warned them off continuing further down the Via Imperii . “Many wars,” he had said, “much fighting--it would not do for your lovely wife to be caught up in all of that.”

As much as Percy wished to protest, that Annabeth was more than capable of handling herself, even in such a state, she had been so fatigued as of late that he did not wish to risk her safety. Therefore, himself, Annabeth, and the traveler, an itinerant monk named Johann, turned West instead, along the Via Regia . The detour would not put them too far off--once they reached the city of Trever , they could then turn South, towards Basler , and continue through the valley.

Percy and Annabeth had come upon the man as he rested by the side of the road, his curiously shaven head something of a beacon in the dark, green forest. Though Annabeth had initially protested, Percy, being in possession of a horse cart, felt offering him assistance would have been, at least, the polite thing to do. Now they sat all three of them in the front of the cart, Percy in the center with Johann to his left, while Annabeth alternately dozed off, attended to her knitting, a blanket in the making, or stroked sweet little Freya, who had become ever more protective of her mistress’ growing belly.

He was an interesting man, this Johann, pleasant and good-natured. He had embarked on a cross-continental journey of his own, one which ranged from his hometown of Cölln , all the way to the resting place of St. James in Hispania . “Fifteen hundred miles,” he said, ruefully, in perfect Italian, “and I am the poor fool who twists his ankle barely out of his own door.”

“Lady Fortuna must pass us all over some time,” said Percy.

“On the contrary,” said the monk, “your presence is proof of her blessing.”

Perhaps it was his joviality, or perhaps it was the warm sun, beating down on them, wrapping Percy in comfort, but he was in a merry mood as well. “I would have thought you to say that all blessings came from the Lord.”

“And who is to say He did not send you to me, miserable thing that I am?” said Johann. “There is a story I heard once, of a man who found himself in a lake. A pious, devoted man, he had only the utmost, unwavering faith in our Lord, faith that He would deliver the man from the waters before he drowned. Well, by and by, a man comes up to him in a canoe. ‘Sir,’ says the sailor to the man, ‘there is space in my vessel here; climb aboard, and I shall bring you to land.’ But the man refuses, saying, ‘I have faith in the Lord. He shall save me.’ And the sailor goes on. Not long after, another man comes up to him, in yet another canoe. ‘Sir,’ says the second sailor, ‘I have come to rescue you, for the waters are bitter cold, and my wife has a warm fire and a dry bed reserved for your use.’ But once again, the man refuses, saying, ‘I shall remain, for the Lord shall see me through.’ Well,” Johann shrugged, the corners of his lips tugging in a smile, “predictably, this poor, pious man drowns after some time. A person of deepest faith, he arrives at the gates of Heaven, whereupon he is given an interview with our Lord Christ, and he asks, ‘my God, my God, I had unwavering faith in your infinite mercy. Why did you not deliver me from the watery depths?’”

Clearly a practiced storyteller, he paused, a silence which begged to be filled by his audience. “And?” asked Percy. “What did he say?”

“At this question, our Lord Christ shakes his head, and says to the man, ‘My child, there was not much more that I could have done, for you refused the two boats which I sent to you.’”

Percy couldn’t help it--he laughed. “I daresay,” he said, “I have never met a man of the cloth so jovial as you.”

“That is what sunlight does to a man,” said Johann, full of good humor. “My brothers may think they have the better of it, sheltered from wind and rain with their books, but to cage me within four walls was anathema to my entire being, for I have always had a singular talent for making things grow. Did not all of creation begin in a garden? Thus, the gardener is a blessed man indeed.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled, a little uneasily. That Percy and Annabeth were not, strictly speaking, devotees of the trinity, and did not quite understand the finer details of the faith, had not quite come up in conversation yet. He sincerely hoped Johann would not ask.

“But you did not tell me your destination,” said the monk, looking on them both eagerly. “What calling of yours caused our two paths to intertwine?”

Percy glanced towards Annabeth, who had decided to ignore their sudden companion altogether, in favor of observing the trees as they passed. “My… wife and I are on our way to Venice.”

Such a simple phrase, “my wife,” yet Percy could not think of another combination of syllables which had ever given him nearly the same kind of joy.

“Venice, eh? That is quite the journey. Are you on a pilgrimage as well?”

“Ah, no--well--” Though, he considered, were they not? They went to seek spiritual enlightenment of a sort in a far off land. Did that not count as a pilgrimage by any standard? Certainly not in the sense which the good monk was implying, yet nonetheless, it was indeed a pilgrimage. The only difference was that they were not at all certain their destination held the answers which they sought. “We are hoping to… find our fortune there.”

Johann looked him up and down, and then at Annabeth. “Your fortune?” He asked. “I must commend you, sir, for you do not look like you need another one.”

Feeling the telltale flush in his cheeks, he glanced once again towards Annabeth, who, strangely, acted as though she hadn’t heard his comment. He was correct, of course, but Percy was not certain if he appreciated other men saying so--even a man of the cloth.

But the monk continued. “Venice is supposed to have one of the most magnificent cathedrals in all of Christendom: the Chiesa d’Oro . They say it is modeled on the great St. Sophia of Constantinople--of course, I have never seen it myself, so I cannot verify such a claim.”

Even the thought of St. Sophia, of her golden domes and radiant light, made Percy’s heart ache for home--a home to which he could never return. “St. Sophia was a masterpiece to behold,” said Percy, a little wistfully. “I am hard-pressed to imagine another temple quite as awe-inspiring.”

With a little thrill in his gaze, Johann leaned in, closer to Percy. “You have beheld the Church of the Holy Wisdom for yourself? Is it as beautiful as they say?”

“More than that, sir, there is no other place quite like it. To tell you truly,” he said, chuckling a little, “my wife and I both hail from Constantinople.”

For a moment, Annabeth looked up and over at him and their companion, narrowing her eyes, but then she just frowned and went back to her knitting.

Johann frowned as well, though more confused than upset, unlike his wife. “From the city itself, you say?”

Percy nodded.

“Then, if I may be so bold, how have you found yourself in these parts? Unless I am very much mistaken, one does not usually feel the need to travel to Saxonia on one’s journey to Venice from the holy lands.”

“Not usually, no,” said Percy. “However, the two of us, we were…” He paused, uncertain of how much information he was willing to share with this virtual stranger. “I was stationed on the walls,” he said. “We fled the city just as the Ottomans broke the siege, then traveled North, to her cousin’s estates.”

“I see,” said the monk. “You were deep in the thick of it, then?”

The all-consuming flames and the blood-curdling screams of his memory, they faded more and more each day, as all battles did, for he was a soldier first and foremost, and war tended to blur together after a point. By contrast, sometimes he still awoke in a cold sweat, drumbeats in his ears as he relived the terror and panic of watching the gods flee the city in which they had dwelt for a thousand years, no more powerful than a crop of refugees. “Yes,” he said. “We were.”

Johann hummed, linking his hands together. “The loss of life is always a tragedy,” he said, “even that of a heretic. Alas, that the city of Constantine fell so far from grace that they had to be punished so!”

Percy shifted, uncomfortable.

“Yet,” he went on, still in that same, blasted, affable tone, “even in the face of great sorrow, there is cause to celebrate, for the Lord saw fit to spare you and your wife, and see you to safe harbors, no?”

He glanced towards Annabeth, who continued at her weaving, seemingly unaware of the monk’s comments. “Well, I--”

“If you will permit me, sir, let me bless your wife and unborn child, so that he or she may grow strong and pious in the loving embrace of the Lord.” And he opened his hands, all set to begin his little ritual.

With a thought, Percy pulled their cart to a stop, suddenly, bracing an outstretched arm against Annabeth so she would not be knocked forward. Freya, jolted from her mid-morning nap, mewed, pitiful. “Percy,” said Annabeth, in their own tongue, “what--”

“This is where we part ways,” said Percy to the Christian man. “Disembark, and quickly.”

He sat, slack-jawed. “I beg your pardon?”

If Percy had been more in control of his emotions, then he may not have uttered his next words. However, later on, he found he did not regret them. “My wife and I are not interested in blessings from your trinity gods.”

“My--” he sputtered. “You--”

“I will not repeat myself--you are no longer welcome to travel with us.”

His pale skin flushed with anger, the monk chose not to argue with him, but did disembark, as though he could no longer bear their presence. “Heathen,” he hissed. “The Lord knows your heart, and for your lack of faith, He shall smite you down to the depths of the underworld.”

Possessed of a fury he did not know he could feel, Percy drew himself up to his full height, reaching deep within himself to the core of his being, the part of him which could summon typhoons, slay monsters, and cause the very earth beneath them to split--the part which could more than terrify a simple fool. “And there we shall be welcomed as heroes,” he said, “for we personally know the lord of the dead himself.”

White with terror, the monk touched his face and shoulders, chanting Latin beneath his breath. Leaving him to it, Percy snapped the reins on the horse, and they took off once more, leaving Johann in the dust.

Annabeth, twisted around in her seat, peered back at the retreating figure of their one-time travelling companion. “Do not mistake my confusion for disappointment,” she said, “for I, too, am glad to be rid of him, though I must say, that was very suddenly done.”

Percy scoffed, twisting the reins between his fingers, something with which to ground himself. “Had I known what he would offer,” he nearly growled, “I would have expelled him sooner.”

Curious, she tilted her head. “What offer was so odious as to force him from your sight?”

Blinking, Percy turned towards her. As always, his heart raced at the sight of those grey eyes on him, though at this moment they were wide in innocent confusion. Percy frowned. He had thought she was a better listener than he, on most occasions. “His offer to bless us in the name of his lord.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that what he said?”

“Did you not hear him?”

“I did,” she huffed, annoyed. Again. She seemed often annoyed with him these days. “But as I cannot understand Italian, clearly I missed a few things.”

She--”You--what?”

Lips pursed, heat rushed to her cheeks, though she did not let up on her steely stare. “Yes?”

“You cannot speak Italian?”

“I have just told you so.”

“But--” Percy sputtered. “But--how did you--how did you take orders from your commander?”

The Venetians and the Genoese had comprised most of the command posts on the wall and had not bothered to learn the local language for themselves. Knowledge of Italian, therefore, had been crucial to the defense of the city, something Annabeth would certainly have known.

“My commander was a fool and a drunkard,” she said, turning her nose up, “and perished one night after he fell off the wall.”

“Then… who--” But he stopped himself before he could finish his question, for there was only one reasonable answer. “You took command of your unit.”

“Obviously.”

“And none of your men took issue with a woman leading them into battle?”

Her stern gaze transformed into a glare, narrowed and piercing. “Not when it guaranteed them victory.”

For a moment, Percy could do nothing but stare right back, in disbelief and incredulity. She must have led her little cohort for months, the warrior woman of Constantinople, Areia made flesh. No wonder the northern portion of the wall held for so long.

Then, out of nowhere, he laughed.

“And what, pray tell, is so amusing?” his wife asked, lips thin, brow furrowed.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chortled. He could not say from where such delight had come, nor why it had suddenly taken him over thus. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that, no matter how much time had passed, Annabeth’s character remained remarkably consistent from the first day he had known her. She would always find a way to command, to control--and, save one obvious exception, to deliver victory. “Oh, Anja,” he said, fondness warming him up from the inside out, “I beg of you, do not ever change.”

“I shall endeavor not to.” She said, faintly. She seemed at a loss for words for several moments, a rarity with her, then spoke once more. “You… you called me Anja.”

Percy frowned, “I know I struggle with your northern tongue, did I not pronounce it correctly?” He had attempted to divine the subtleties in the difference between the Ana that he had always known her to be, and the Anja her family called her, but perhaps he had been mistaken.

“No.” Softly, sweetly, a smile curled the straight lines of her mouth, even as she turned her face out to watch the trees as they passed, raising a hand to rest delicately on her stomach. “You were perfect.”

***

Percy laid out his cloak over the smoothest rock he could find. It was a nice cloak, of a much higher quality fabric and weave than to which he was most accustomed. Had he been a smarter man, most likely he would not have used the garment for such a task as this--but he was used to his clothes being worn out, multipurpose things. The hot velvet could find another use as a blanket until the warmth of early summer passed them by.

Having prepared her seat, he then rushed back to the wagon, reaching his hand out for Annabeth to steady herself on it. “I am not an invalid,” she chided, stretching her leg down to the earth. “You do not have to take such precaution with me.”

“It is no trouble.” The days, slowly but surely, were getting longer, Helios’ chariot lingering for a few more minutes every evening. They could certainly afford to stop and rest for a while should she require it. Once she had revealed to him her condition, he had resolved to mold the pace of their journey to her level of comfort and satisfaction. To ensure her health and the health of their child, Percy could stand a few unexpected delays.

Supporting her with his arm, he led her to the makeshift seat of stone, situated in a patch of sunlight bracketed by the shadows of the trees behind them. With an adorable little grunt, her sweet face scrunched up, she sat down upon it, sighing in relief. “There,” she breathed, hanging her head. “That’s better.”

The town of Trever was still a little ways off, but they could still see the rise of the town walls over the rolling hills. He noted, with some displeasure, the towering spindle resting on top of the ancient gate--was there nothing these trinity men would not claim for themselves?--but chased the thought from his mind, focusing instead on the more pressing issue at hand. “What is wrong?”

She had not explicitly told him why they should stop, only that she was desperate for relief of some kind. Rather than push for a reason, he had chosen instead to indulge her. “Some water, please?” she asked, her face drawn.

Nearly tripping over himself, he leapt up onto the wagon to retrieve the water skin before delivering it to her, kneeling down before her. “Are you alright?” he asked again, hiding his concern as best he could. She did not like him to fret so much over her--not that she could stop him.

“I am fine,” she promised. “Your child is just--very active.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Here--feel.” Then, without hesitation, she grasped his hand, and placed it over her stomach.

Percy, by design, had refrained himself from touching her in any manner that was not explicitly one of acquaintanceship since that wonderful, terrible night, not in any meaningful way. In turn, she had not, precisely, refused his company, but had kept him at something of a distance, emotionally if not physically, likely for his own protection. But now she had initiated contact, had invited him in, and Percy was once again caught up in the sublime experience which was being close to Annabeth Fredriksdotter. Her hair, nearly twice as long as it was when they had arrived in Svealand, was bound up in an intricate knot, though loose, gilded strands fell out here or there, as she had left her head uncovered today, insisting that it was too hot for her wimple. Percy understood that it was key to her modesty as a married woman to cover her head, even if she was married to the likes of him, though he could not pretend he did not dislike it, at times. If only she would look at him, though, grace him with her lovely gaze, rather than their joined hands.

So distracted by the sunlight filtering through her hair that he nearly missed it.

A small, nearly imperceptible jolt beneath his fingertips.

Then he felt it again.

He recognized the feeling--it was one he recognized from when his mother was pregnant with his dear, sweet little Esther. “Is that…” he said, trailing off, softly so as not to disturb the moment.

“That,” said his wife, jovial, “is the little monster which has been causing me so much distress recently.”

Swallowing, he blinked back the sudden heat from his eyes. “Oh,” he said, pulling his emotions together so he did not weep. “I am sorry.”

“As you should be,” she said, but she was grinning at him. “Your child is kicking me in the ribs--a skill I am quite certain he got from you.”

He . She thought they were going to have a son.

Something in her smirk riled an old part of his brain. “Kicking was always your maneuver,” he accused, smiling in turn. “If she is kicking,” he insisted, emphasizing the opposite sex purely on principle alone, “it is surely due to her mother’s influence.”

She rolled her eyes at the reference. “Oh, please do not say you are still sore from--”

“I swear, to this day, I still bear the marks from the force of your blow!”

“I have seen you without clothes on,” Annabeth said, “and you have no such mark, believe me.”

A silence fell between the two of them, chilly and awkward. She did not attempt to remove his hand from her person, and nor did he wish to remove it.

“It occurs to me,” she said quietly, after some time, “that I… I have never apologized for how I treated you back then.”

Rubbing his thumb against the fabric of her dress, he shrugged. “That time has long since passed,” he murmured, “and we are two very different people now. Let the past remain in the past, I say.”

“Still. I was--very cruel to you,” she said. “I should not have said those things.”

She had been very cruel. Percy had returned to the agoge after a year and a half spent with the Legion, expecting open arms and welcome smiles from his friends and brothers in arms, only to be met with scorn and derision from the one person whom he had most wanted to see.

After the war with the titans, they had only been granted a short reprieve before they had received an envoy from Aachen, begging Percy’s help with a monster which they simply could not fight on their own, diminished as they were in the realm of Karolus Magnus , far from their ancestral home. Never one to turn down a cry for help, Percy had entreated Annabeth and their former questing companion now turned Lord of the Wild to accompany him. Unfortunately, in the snowy mountains of Dardania, they were ambushed by monsters, and separated. By the time Percy came to his senses, he was in the tender grip of the Latins, and Annabeth was long gone.

A naturally distrustful lot, they would not let him free until he had proven his loyalty to the rootless empire, and they sent him away to train with their patroness in the wilds. Once Lupa deemed him worthy of service, upon his return, they then put him to work, pairing him with his Latin counterpart, the son of Jupiter.

Again, he felt no shame with what he had with Iason. Theirs had been a soldiers’ romance, brief, but deep, intense and overwhelming. In truth, he would not have fallen in with the man, save for that he had been under the impression that Annabeth had left him to his doom in the mountains. The Latins had intimated to him evidence of a person’s quick retreat where they had found him, and had let him come to his own conclusions.

Once the giant Polybotes had been slain, then, and Percy had been released from unwilling service, he had been allowed to return to the shores of Constantinople. There he had received something of a hero’s welcome, with all due honors and celebrations--except, of course, from Annabeth, who had been decidedly not happy with his return. Feelings between them grew fouler and fouler, until, one fateful day, as they were practicing their weapons’ routines on each other’s persons, more hateful words had been traded rather than blows. Quickly, what had been a skilled and professional match devolved into something dirty and mean, filthy trick after filthy trick, until she had kicked him square in the ribs, knocking him flat onto the ground, hissing from between bloodied teeth how she would have preferred it if he had died in Dardania.

After that, Percy had promptly departed for his father’s palace, seeking escape in the form of good cheer and happier people, chasing away his broken heart in the arms of Thetis, and others.

They had not shared a serious or friendly conversation for years--not until the morning the Ottomans broke through the defense of the city.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, unwilling to dwell on that time any longer than he had to. He would not say it was alright, for it was not, but he also had let go of that animosity many months before, in the shadow of the Erechtheion.

“You must understand,” she went on, a little forceful, “I was not angry with you, but with myself. I thought I had lost you to a fate unspeakable--”

“I am not certain I would classify Latin conscription as a fate unspeakable,” said Percy, dryly.

She flushed. “I--I only meant--”

“Annabeth,” he said, not wanting to tread this ground any further, “let it be done. Please.”

“After the war,” she spoke, urgently, “I thought… I had--thought that we would… well.” All at once, she slumped as though the very breath had gone out of her, removing her hand from his, nearly curling into herself. “I suppose,” she murmured, “it no longer matters what I thought.”

She did not need to clarify. He knew perfectly well what she had meant. It was not much of a secret that Percy and Annabeth had held some youthful affection for each other, not even from each other. So easily it could have blossomed into something stronger. “I wanted to,” he said, craning his neck to meet her eyes so she could see the truth of it. He had wanted to, and had planned to. But he was no fool, for he knew that a man needed a way of supporting a family before he could start one. The expedition to Aachen, that would have been his ticket into some of the upper echelons of Constantinople; a letter of introduction from a tribune, prefect, or even a centurion would have done wonders for his social standing and finances. “I swear, I wanted to, but then…”

Her lips lifted in a small smile. Not one of happiness, no. She knew all too well the things they had done to each other, the barbs they had hurled and the wounds they had inflicted. It was the acknowledgement of old sorrows and long-ignored pain which caused her to smile, a pain shared and understood only by the man before her. “As you stated,” she said, “we are now different people, and we cannot dwell on what may have transpired between us.”

A satisfactory answer--tragic, yes, but satisfactory nonetheless. “But we are friends, yes?” he asked, hoping for a little salve for his broken heart.

She raised her head, grey eyes clear and steady. “It is my very honor, Perseus,” said she, a pronouncement handed down from the empress herself, “to call you my friend--my dearest friend.”

It was not exactly what a husband might want to hear from his wife, nor what a man might want from the woman he loved about all things. But for Percy, it would be enough. It was Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter: her hand, her child, her friendship. Perhaps one day, that friendship could be transmuted into something more affectionate, but Percy would not waste his time waiting for a day which would never come, not when she was here, before him, solid and tangible.

“Percy,” she said, very sweetly, “as wonderful as this is, unfortunately, I must ask you to give me some privacy at this time.”

“Oh,” he staggered to his feet, snatching his hand back. “Of course.” This, too, was a symptom of pregnancy with which he was quite familiar. His poor mother’s body had been pushed to its very limit, and she had had to relieve herself quite often. “I shall leave you to it, then.”

Then, face red, he trotted round to the other side of the wagon, where, paradoxically, he could better protect her.

***

Percy blinked, uncomprehending. “I beg your pardon?”

“I merely said,” she repeated, unconcerned, “that you no longer have to keep up the pretense. It has been months since I have had such voracious cravings, yet you continue to make a show of your search. It is natural for men to wish time for themselves--I know very well what a man can do with this time away from his wife.” She looked on him flatly, as though she thought he was the fool for thinking her to be one instead. “I am more than capable of amusing myself for a few hours. Please, go on--I am sure the good people of the brothel await.”

The--”I would not do that to you,” said Percy, quietly, a little insulted. Did she truly think so low of him that he would make good on his long-forgotten promise to abandon her to her freedom? Did she not understand that dreams of their brief time together would sustain him as water in a desert, and yet ruin him for any other man or woman? “If you do not believe me, then I insist you accompany me,” he said, firmly. “Allow me to put these thoughts of yours to rest.”

She looked out the window of their little room, where the sun hung low in the sky over Messalia . It had been a hot, July mid-morning when they rambled into town, looking for a place to stay the night before they would put to sea the next day, the streets and corners quiet as the people retreated to their homes for their daily rest. Now, as the shadows began to stretch, the city came to life once more, the hustle and bustle of commerce a dull roar beneath the room in the little inn which they had rented. Through the air wafted the scents of spices, coal fire, and the blessed salt smell of the sea, the glittering, golden jewel that lay beyond the walls. “Very well,” she said. “I believe I shall. A walk outside may do me some good.”

With some difficulty, as her large stomach made everything rather difficult for her these days, she managed to stand up from the low bed, reaching for her wimple which she had discarded previously. Tying it about her face, he was once again struck by the duality of his emotions, that he could feel so disheartened and yet so elated by the same action. Her wimple covered all of her gorgeous, golden hair, as modesty dictated it must, yet the act of hiding such beauty signified, once again, that she was his wife--a cause for great celebration, if only in his heart.

And so they went together on the town.

It was an absolutely marvelous time.

Once again, the sea infused his senses and soothed his entire being--a familiar sea this time, not the strange, frigid waters of the north, but the deep lapis and emerald of his childhood. Every shaft of sunlight felt as the touch of a friendly hand, and every shadow a cool breeze of relief. Together, arm in arm, they wandered up and down the markets, where Annabeth used the time given to her to practice her Italian. She was a remarkably quick study, as he knew she would be, though it did help that the merchants here were much more familiar with that language than they had been further north.

By now, Percy had been to markets practically all over the world. Each one was unique, distinct, with its own set of sights and sounds and smells, and yet, each one had been positively lackluster, almost grey in his memory. Not many men were fortunate enough to have seen so much of the known world, and had lived to tell the tale of it. Today, however, walking about with his eight month pregnant wife in the streets of Messalia, he finally understood what they all had been lacking.

So caught up in his wife’s lovely smile as she admired a particularly ripe set of figs, that he accidentally barreled into another person, spilling the contents of their arms all over the ground. Fruit went tumbling, smashing the earth in rich, dark colors, staining the well-worn streets. “Ah, perdono !” he cried, dropping to his knees to help gather up the items which could be salvaged. “ Scusatemi !”

“ Non, non, mon sieur ,” said the woman, joining him on the ground, “ perdon , per … Percy?”

At the sound of his name, his head snapped up.

She was an older woman, with long, thick brown hair streaked with grey, and eyes that shifted color in the low light. Her skin was tanned a deep brown from hours spent in the sun, and though her face was lined with age, none would look on her and not consider her to be a great beauty.

They stared at each other, in shock and disbelief.

“Percy?” called Annabeth, faint in his ears. “I am in need of your assistance, as I cannot remember the world you taught me--”

“Oh!” wept the older woman, dropping the rest of the fruit she had gathered onto the street, opening her arms to hold him. “It is you!”

And with a deep, wrenching sob, pulled from his chest, Percy threw himself into the warm embrace of his mother.

“ Mater , mater ,” he moaned, burying his face into her chest as she held him close. “Oh, mater !”

“I knew it, I just knew it,” she was saying, over and over again, clutching him to her breast, kissing his forehead, “I knew you had made it out. Oh, lord of the sea, earth-shaker in the swelling brine, thank you, thank you, thank you for my son!”

So caught up in the sudden wave of emotion, he was rendered nearly mute. “Mother,” he finally croaked, taking in the warm, sweet scent of her--cinnamon and cloves and sea salt. To think that he had almost forgotten the particular details, hands calloused from years of cooking, eyes twinkling like stars on the surface of the water. “Mother!”

“My boy!” Sally pulled back, raking her hands through his hair, pushing it from his face so she could look on him more clearly. “Oh, my boy, I never thought I would see you again!”

“Nor I you,” he replied, tears blurring his vision. “How--how are you here?”

“I could ask you the very same,” she said, smiling the sweet summer smile which had lit his childhood as a candle in the dark, “and I will hear all of it--but for now, let me simply look upon you! It has been far, far too long since I have seen your smiling face.”

He was smiling, so wide and genuine that it caused his face to ache, a pain he was more than happy to bear, down on his knees in the middle of Messalia. “I have missed you, mater ,” he said, “so much.”

“Percy?”

Blinking, he came back to himself, emerging from the dream so suddenly made real. The populace of Messalia were not giving them so wide a berth, just barely sparing the two the indignity of being walked all over. Annabeth stood a little ways away, her hand resting on her protruding stomach, light concern falling over her face like a veil.

“Mother,” he said, seized with a strange kind of energy, “here.” With steady hands, he lifted her up from the ground, the ruined fruit forgotten. Annabeth stepped closer to them, trepidation slowing her pace. She had already met his mother a number of times--they had often taken rest at her house when a quest required them to take their leave from the agoge for several days at a time--but even he understood that to meet her as his wife was a vastly different thing.

But his mother, quick as ever, cottoned onto the truth of the matter. “Percy,” she breathed, full of disbelief, “is that--”

“You remember Annabeth,” said Percy, nerves seizing his tongue and nearly stopping it in his mouth, “my--my wife.”

How strange, that weeks ago, the two syllables represented one of the happiest truths of his life, and yet today, he felt as anxious as a baby colt learning to walk for the first time, desperate for the two most important women in his world to feel some sort of kinship.

His mother gasped, her hands flying to her face. “Annabeth!” she cried, taking her in her arms without hesitation. “Your wife! How wonderful! Oh, blessed day that made your way here!”

Annabeth stood there, quite shocked, before bringing her arms up as well.

“Oh, goodness,” said his mother, pulling herself back, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Look at me--I apologize for such unbecoming behavior. But you must come back with me--Paul and Esther will be overjoyed--I will need to purchase some wine--”

It was then that Percy remembered he had, quite indirectly, ruined her groceries. Fruit was not inexpensive, and neither was wine. Percy knew his mother, and he knew she would wish to cook for him in celebration, but he would not see her waste any more of her money on his account. “Allow me,” he said, placing a hand on her arm. “I shall pay you back in full, and then some. Ah, if,” he glanced towards Annabeth, seeking her permission, for it was her money after all, “if that is alright, of course.”

She looked at him, quizzically. “Of course it is alright.”

“Percy,” sighed his mother, “you do not need to--”

“It is settled, then!” Taking her arm in his, he directed them to the fruit seller whom Annabeth had been speaking to just prior, unwilling to let go of his mother for even a second. “We shall have a veritable feast!”

***

Paul, his mother’s husband, had wept upon seeing them. Dear, sweet little Esther refused to let go of her elder brother, stubbornly clinging to his leg. Eventually, she had tired herself out, the poor thing, only allowing her father and Annabeth to take her to bed when she had nearly fallen asleep in his lap. Percy had tried to persuade Annabeth to relax, but she had insisted, looking on Esther with such sweetness and doting in her eyes that Percy found himself hard-pressed to say no. Perhaps she would be so sweet and affectionate with their daughter, as well. The very thought excited him in ways he could not quite describe.

If she was forced to be a mother, then, perhaps it would not be the harshest of fates.

“I am so glad, Percy,” said his own mother, once he had recounted to her the whole, winding tale of his and Annabeth’s journey. Her looking at him with such fondness, it transported him back to that dark, bleak time, when they were all that each other could claim to call their own. Now look at them--families and children, both. Beneath the thumb of a monstrous man, sometimes it was difficult to imagine otherwise. “When the news of Constantinople’s fall reached us… yet I kept the faith. I knew you would survive, and I am so glad you had someone with you.”

He smiled, taking her hands in his, kissing the knuckles there. “All I learned of survival,” he said, “I learned from you.”

She squeezed his hands, warm and solid.

“But you must tell me how you came to Messalia,” said Percy, before he could begin to weep. “How is it you found your way to this place?”

His mother lifted her shoulders, tilting her head. “My story is not nearly so exciting as yours, I can promise you that. Our voyage out of Constantinople was swift and peaceful, and we arrived on the shores of this city far faster than we thought possible.”

“That was my father,” said Percy. “In Svealand, I had a dream of him--he bade me to send you his love.”

Her countenance transforming, she smiled, sweetly, knowingly, a glint in her eye which lifted years off of her face. “I had wondered,” she said, “for our voyage did seem unusually safe.” Then she shook her head, lightly, casting off whatever memories had come to her in that moment. “What else did he tell you?”

Much that he wished to keep to himself, though he was sure she would understand. “Have you ever heard of the city of old soldiers?” he asked his mother instead. He felt all of fourteen years old once more, seeking his mother’s guidance, begging for wisdom from a woman of keen sight and keener instinct.

Frowning, she turned her gaze towards the open window, to the stars which were beginning to show their faces. “I do not know this city of which you speak,” she said quietly.

Percy sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Yet,” said his mother, “I, too, have had some extraordinary dreams as of late.”

At that, he perked up once more, leaning in to listen better. As she had told him, once upon a time, her sight had waned alongside her youth, though she could still occasionally perceive that which lay just beyond the comprehension of most mortals. “What have you seen?” he asked, breathless.

She closed her eyes, recalling. “In a city on a river,” she said, “there is a grand building--a church, made of marble, white and green, and above it rests a red dome, reaching towards the sky, as though it longs to return from whence it came.”

“A city on a river,” he repeated. Another clue--yet, just as many cities had rivers as they did old soldiers.

“I apologize, my son,” said his mother, opening her eyes once more. “This is all I know.”

He squeezed her hands, comforting. “Think nothing of it. We have already decided to seek our fortune in Venice--I have been told that their church there was modeled on St. Sophia. Perhaps this is the dome of which you speak.”

“Perhaps,” she said, unconvinced. “But must you leave us so soon? You will do well in Venice, of that I have no doubt, yet I do not know if I can bear to be apart from you once again. And,” then she grinned, her eyes suddenly sparkling, “I should very much like to meet your child.”

Percy blinked at her, processing what she was saying. Then he flushed, grinning weakly in return. “Ah, yes, well… I should like you to meet her as well.”

Certainly, he possessed no gift of prophecy--he was not, as it were, a child of Apollo--but he found himself dreaming more and more of that little girl with his wife’s lovely hair and eyes, like the children who dressed as St. Lucy. A little girl whom he could lavish all fatherly love and affection upon, rather than a wife who would find it a nuisance at best. She would be his princess; and if her mother could be persuaded, he would call her his Anja.

The lines on her face ran deep, carved from years of laughter and joy which poured forth from her like the sun itself. “Even at such a young age, I could sense the fondness and affection you had for each other. You do not know how happy I am for the two of you.”

A fondness and affection which had now faded on her part--but at least they had resolved to remain friends in a marriage of trust and support, if not love. “When I have made enough money,” he promised, to take his mind off of his situation, “I will send for you and your family, and we will never be parted again. In fact,” he said, struck with sudden inspiration. Rummaging through the various folds of his clothing, he located his purse which carried the rest of the money he had on him, then placed it in his mother’s hand. “Here. A gift, to a wonderful mother from her loving son.”

“Percy,” she tutted, brow furrowed. “Do not concern yourself with me. We are comfortable here, Paul and I; you must focus all of your resources on providing for your own family now.”

“Annabeth has more than enough to provide for herself, her dowry was immense. More land than I thought possible, sold for more money.” he said. “She and our children--our child,” he corrected, cursing himself for his weak tongue, and praying his mother had not caught it, “our child will be kept in comfort for the rest of their days. I carry only a bit for pocket change, so she need not do all the bartering for me. You have done so much for me--please, allow me to do this for you.”

“What do you mean?” his mother asked, picking up the purse, surprised by the weight of it. He observed as she untied the cord, and spilt the contents on her table, the gold coins clinking against each other ever so noisily. “Is it not your money now?”

“I suppose, legally , yes.” he conceded. “But the land we--she gained from her uncle is ancient family land. It would not do for me to leech such things away from her.” Bad enough that she had to be tied to him in motherhood and marriage, but he would not stoop so low as to usurp the use of her finances. “Once I arrive in Venice, I will then pay my own way,” he promised his mother, and his wife, though she was not there to hear him. “I will find work as a laborer, or if I am lucky, perhaps a ship will be in need of a sailor.”

“I suggest,” his mother said, “that you speak to your wife regarding such things.”

As much as he would have liked to protest, said wife reentered at that moment, helped along by Paul. “Percy,” she said, “the hour grows late, and we have left poor little Freya all by her lonesome.”

“Ah--of course,” said Percy, standing as well. Damn that cat, he thought. “Then I believe we must take our leave of you now, mother.”

“I understand,” she said, rising to see them out. “Will we see you again ‘ere you depart?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “I shall return to you once more.”

Then she swept him up in her arms again. “Until that happy time, my son.”

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of oil and onion, cinnamon and cloves, hearth and home, and marveled again at the strength of his wife who had borne the pain of leaving her father to travel the world with someone like him. “Until then.”

#my fic #the marble king #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #percyyoulittleshit #pataytayo #enjoy the idiots!!!!

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hj-creates · 4 years

Text

A Possible Scandal

So, I wrote a little Laurens/Madison fic. I’ve never attempted this ship before, but @layaisdaboss requested it and it’s honestly adorable. The link to the fic on Ao3 is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27359851 but feel free to read it here as well.

Pennsylvania, Fall of 1780

John stared out the window of the carriage as it rumbled over the cobblestones. His father, Henry, noticed his son’s dour expression and heaved a sigh. “You don’t have to pout you know, I promise you only have to stay a week or so.”

“I should be back with my men on the front lines.”

“There are many ways to fight for your country, my boy. Not all of them involve risking your life on the battlefield.”

“It suits me better then pontificating in stuffy chambers or arguing over fancy dinners.”

“The war won’t last forever, John. When it’s over, the colonies will need well-spoken, well-educated men to lead our new nation. As my son, you are in a good position to help shape the laws and create what this country can become.”

John turned quickly back to his father. “Doubtful. They don’t listen to me now. How many times have I begged them to create a militia of slaves and ensure their freedom once the fighting is over? We rail against the unjustness of the British, but they have given the enslaved that same opportunity. If for no other reason then we are losing thousands of smart, strong men to the other side should we do this, but no. People like Jefferson and even Washington himself refuse to see the hypocrisy of fighting for independence while keeping human beings in chains.” He gave his father a fiery stare.

Henry exhaled and turned away. “I did support your effort. I am sorry it didn’t pass the house.”

“And when, exactly, were you planning on freeing the slaves in your own home?” John said coldly.

“It’s not that simple, John. There are economic and societal-“

“With all due respect, father, stuff it.” John clenched his jaw. “I’ve heard all these arguments before.” He sat back and Henry tersely obliged, happy to see the State House finally coming into view.

John suffered through the numerous introductions and polite exchanges before he and his father finally took their seats in one of the many rows of benches that gave the Great Room the feeling of a church. Most of the discussions seemed to be more about accounting than the high-minded discourses on the birth of a republic that Henry had promised. As the older, fat statesmen argued over the budget of the Continental Army and how they simply couldn’t spare another dollar for those fighting on the front lines, John had had enough and stood up.

“We’re starving out there!” His impassioned voice filled the cavernous hall. “Do you have any idea how many men died during the winter at Valley Forge? How many soldiers perished not due to British muskets but hunger and frostbite? You ask these brave souls to fight for you and then you make them march over frozen fields without even socks on their feet! And that’s not even the worst part. These patriots are getting sick and dying. Forced to live in squalor and drink filthy water because we have no money for a decent shelter or proper sanitation. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Quibbling over a few coins for the army while you dine on fine china and drink from crystal goblets. As an aide of General Washington, I can attest that all in his house were forced to share the same plate at every meal. Militiamen are forced to steal from local farmers, even under penalty of death, just for a scrap of meat.” He felt his father’s hand on his arm. “But go ahead and debate the merits of fulfilling the latest request from the quartermaster. I hope your lavish feasts are worth the suffering of the men you claim to hold in such high regard.” He sat down and his nostrils flared, his anger apparent as Henry looked quickly at the faces around the room.

“Yes.” Henry loudly cleared his throat, obviously flustered and desperately trying to redirect. “We can certainly take into account what my spirited son has so passionately described for us. The well-being of those on the front lines should of course be considered when we deliberate how best to distribute our funds.”

John rolled his eyes. He glanced across the room and he noted most faces set in a frown as they regarded him with equal parts shock and disdain. Except for one. He looked at a face, younger than most of the other men there, who was actually smirking and seemed almost delighted. John gave him a little smile and the other man grinned in return. When his father was once again seated, ceding the floor to another delegate, John elbowed him softly and gestured across the room. “Who is that?”

“That is James Madison. A smart, young man from Virginia.”

John noted the name and let his gaze linger for a moment. Had he just found an ally?

As the day’s proceedings came to an end, John pushed through the throng of well-dressed men until he found who he was looking for. He stepped in front of the short, plump man and offered his hand. “Mister Madison? I am John Laurens. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The other man smiled. “The pleasure is mine. That was quite the diatribe you gave today. It’s nice to have someone who has actually seen the atrocities of battle speak for our poor men out there fighting.”

Laurens scoffed. “All the impassioned words will mean nothing if we are not helped soon. Winter will be here soon enough and our soldiers still lack coats and boots and blankets. There is not enough food to eat since the locals have all decided to sell to the British now that American currency is worthless. These are dire times, my friend. I am sure you know as well as I. What regiment do you serve in? The Virginian Militia?”

“Oh.” Madison’s voice was soft. “I am unfortunately too unwell to serve in the field. I am second-in-command to my father though. A colonel in the Orange County militia. Since being elected to the Continental Congress, I have spent most of my time here. Your argument is something I have been pleading myself. The financial issues that plague us are quite a thorny mess but I am trying to amend the Articles of Confederation to let us impose a tariff on imports that we can use to support the army’s efforts.”

“You are?” John’s face softened and he smiled wide.

James nodded and he felt his cheeks grow warm, “I am trying. There is much resistance.”

“I will talk to Washington and Hamilton. Between the General’s sway and Alex’s persuasive writing, we can work to make this a reality.” John was talking faster, his enthusiasm growing.

“I would appreciate that very much.” James smiled.

“John!” The younger Laurens heard his father’s voice calling to him. Madison saw the change in John’s expression and recognized what it meant immediately.

“Lieutenant Colonel.” James nodded to Henry. “I was hoping your son and I could enjoy a hearty dinner and a robust exchange of ideas tonight. I am friends with the owner of the Orchid Inn. He can give John and I a lavish meal and some much deserved wine.”

Henry narrowed his eyes, knowing his son too well. “Oh, that’s not necessary. You can dine with us tonight. I’m staying at a lovely little home off Main St.”

John grimaced and James looked unsure of what to do. “I.. uh… that’s very kind of you sir.”

“Very well.” Henry seemed proud of himself. “See you at seven. I’ll send a coach.”

After an awkward dinner, John finally tossed his napkin on the table when he finished his dessert. “Well then father, if I may be excused, James and I would like to take our leave and relax a bit at the tavern across the street.”

Henry peered up at his son with an almost imperceptible scowl on his face. “We have plenty of brandy and cordials here, but I suppose you are hoping for a moment with Mr. Madison that isn’t under the watchful eye of your father.” John didn’t respond but pleaded with his eyes. “Fine. I can assume you will have the utmost respect for Mr. Madison’s stature… and dignity.”

John knew exactly what his father was hinting at. “Am I not always the pinnacle of honor and manners?”

His father arched an eyebrow. “Remember you are a married man, Jackie.” The fact seemed to take James by surprise.

John forced a smile. “How could I forget? I’m haunted every day by it.” With that he grabbed the coats that were hanging by the door and handed Madison’s to him.

They wasted no time hurrying to the tavern and finding a small, corner table near the fire. After the bottle of burgundy had been uncorked and their glasses filled, Madison eagerly started in.

“I must say, Colonel Laurens, your stories of action on the battlefield are most exciting.”

John shrugged. “There is much chance for glory while fighting. Me and my friends seem to be always narrowly escaping death.”

“Is that so?” James leaned in closer. “You must be very lucky then. I see no scars and detected no injuries.”

“Lucky, perhaps. But not injury free. There are mementos from the war all over my flesh, a slight ache in my leg from when my horse was shot out from under me and a mighty scar on my shoulder from where a musket ball went straight through.”

James’s eyes were wide. “Are you serious? How did your arm not get blown clean off?”

John smirked. “Didn’t let it. I had more important things to do than whine about being hurt. We were trying to ambush the Brits. I was leading a company of men. I got shot, tore off my sash, wrapped it around the hole to stop the bleeding and kept marching.”

Madison sat there in rapt attention. “That can’t be true.”

John drained his glass and set it down hard. “You don’t believe me?” He grinned and kept his eyes focused on James. He shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. He loosened his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt. James felt his jaw grow slack and quickly looked around the bar to see if anyone was watching this spectacle. John didn’t stop staring at James and yanked his shirt open, sliding one of the sleeves down his arm and revealing a circular-shaped scar, bumpy red skin, and stripes of white where the wound tried to heal itself.

James sat back and exhaled. He knew such an injury would have been the end of him. “That’s… impressive.”

John finally looked away and redressed. “That’s nothing.” He said nonchalantly. “I have scars like that all over.”

James didn’t know what to say and he certainly didn’t want to picture where exactly those scars would be.

After a few more drinks, Madison grew bold. “Why did your father have to remind you about being married?”

John snorted. “Oh that’s just Henry. He probably thought I was going to seduce you.”

“What?” James felt his heart race and he mildly started to panic. “Seduce me? What? Why would he think that? I’m- I’m a.. umm..”

“It’s not you. He’s caught me with men before.”

James felt as if the entire earth had shifted underneath him. “He what?”

John sighed. “If you want to leave because of that, I understand.” He looked at James who showed no signs of going anywhere. “Yes. I occasionally engage in ‘unacceptable’ affections with men. My father found me once with Alex.”

“Alex?”

“Hamilton.”

“Hamil-“ James gasped and slapped his hand in front of his mouth.

John rolled his eyes and poured another large glass of wine. “Aye. But he is engaged now. Set to marry in a few weeks. So, it appears our romance, or whatever you want to call it, has come to an end.” He took a long sip. “Which is better for him, I suppose. All his ambitions.” He emphasized that last word, like it was something he and Alex had fought over many times. “Better for him to secure a spot in an illustrious household headed by one of the most powerful men in New York.” He gulped more wine. “I mean, this fucking orphan is now going to be the son-in-law of General Schuyler. All because he wrote a few well-crafted love letters to the man’s daughter. I mean, you should see the things he wrote to me.” He laughed, a bit too loud. “Imagine being tossed aside by some simpering girl. To know that the letters he wrote to you weren’t anything special at all. It’s just how he talks to anyone he wants something from. To know that something you thought was monumental was just pedestrian to the person you loved. At least with Lafayette he is already married. He is open with how much he loves Adrienne and I know I will never compare to her. We just like having fun. But Alex…” His voice trailed off. “I just thought…” He sat back and let his head fall to his chest.

James watched him and a small smile crept over his face. “I understand.”

Laurens scoffed. “You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be-“

“Jefferson.” James cut him off.

“I’m sorry?” John quickly looked up at him in confusion.

“Four years ago. I first met him at the Virginia Constitutional Convention. I could barely speak. He’s very tall, you know, and quite handsome. He’s only eight years older than me but it felt like he had lived an entire lifetime more. Then last year, he became Governor of Virginia and I was on the Council of State. We worked closely almost every day and I thought…” he sighed. “We started working late into the night, just the two of us and we grew close. I didn’t dare initiate anything but eventually he did. I thought we could develop something, entirely in secret of course, but when I mentioned it, he laughed in my face. He asked if I really thought he give up all his other partners. He said he was sorry if I had gotten the wrong idea.” Madison swallowed hard. “But he didn’t seem sorry. He seemed… I don’t know. His smile was almost victorious. Like he had won something. I felt like an idiot of course. I haven’t even thought about a relationship with anyone since then.”

“Jefferson?” John looked deep in thought.

“Yes. I work with him every day still. It’s torture.”

“Jefferson…” Laurens still had a faraway look in his eyes. “You’re right. He is handsome.”

Madison’s shoulders slumped. “That. Was not the point of the story.”

Laurens laughed. “I’m teasing. But you know the best remedy for a broken heart.”

“More wine?” James smiled back.

“Not when there’s two of us.” John had a mischievous gleam in his eye and took Madison’s hand. He threw some coins on the table and led him to the door. “Come on. What do you say we get out of here? Find somewhere private and not think about Alex or Thomas or anyone else for an hour or so.”

“I’m not sure. It gets cold so quickly now. I really should be headed home.”

“Oh, don’t be a ninny.” He pulled the other man into the street. “Hmm... We could go down to the docks.”

“The salt water makes my asthma flare up.”

John looked up at the top floor of the tavern. “I suppose we could just sneak up into the attic. It’s just storage. No one ever goes up there.”

“With all that dust? Are you mad? I’ll be sneezing for hours.”

“What about the barn at my father’s house?”

“I’m allergic to hay.” John spun around in frustration and pushed Madison against the outside wall of the tavern. “What are you doing?” James whispered.

“Well, if we can’t go anywhere. Then I shall take you right here.”

“But what if someone sees?”

“I’ll say you were having trouble breathing. I was merely trying to keep your airways open.”

“With our clothes off?”

“Of course! Let that fresh air really get into your pores.” John grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re as tenacious as you are charming.”

“Is that a yes?”

James took John’s hand and directed it to the growing bulge in his breeches. “What do you think?”

John sauntered back into the house and hung up his coat. He quietly crept up the stairs, trying to not make any noise.

“Must have been quite the conversation between you two.” Henry’s voice stopped him in his tracks. John turned and saw his father in the study. He sat in a chair by the window, smoking his pipe and facing the hallway.

“It was.” John said simply, without a trace of guilt in his voice.

“I assume you stuck with discussing policy and compromises between military and state?”

“Oh father, please. Of course not. That sounds dreadfully boring. We also talked about our families, what living in the trenches is like, and the different places we have visited in Europe.”

“I see.” Henry seemed to relax a little. “Well it seems like you two are building quite a friendship. I encourage you to get more acquainted with someone who comes from such a well-regarded family as Madison. That boy has a sharp mind and his father is quite wealthy. Well connected too. I think he is even mentoring under Jefferson.” John snorted at that. “What?” His father asked. “It’s true. I’ve seen them travel to and from Virginia together.”

“I’m not doubting you. James himself said he and Thomas are very close.”

Henry nodded and then started to pick up on John’s subtle comment. “Just understand there is much to be mined from a cordial relationship with Madison. He has already done so much at such a young age. He has the ambition and pedigree to really make it far. The two of you could be the future leaders of this nation. Taking after your fathers. I hope you plan on seeing him again.”

“Oh, I definitely do, father.” He sneered down at Henry triumphantly. “We have A LOT in common.” With that, he turned his back and went up to bed.

#Laurmads #John Laurens #james madison #Okieriete Onaodowan #Anthony Ramos #laurens #laurens x madison #hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fic

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elliemarchetti · 4 years

Text

Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

@lilyharvord sorry for the long waiting but life got in the way, as always. I hope you like this chapter and stay tuned for the fourth (which, I swear, won’t take that long)

Words: 2335

Wren wasn’t feeling any better. On hearing this, Miss Samos and Lady Haven repeated three or four times how terrible it was to have a bad cold, and how much they themselves hated being sick, but after that, they thought of it no more, and their indifference toward their guest when they weren’t directly around her confirmed to Mare all her previous feelings toward the party, including the satisfaction with Mr. Samos’ ways, since his anxiety for Wren was evident. On her side, Mare received very little attention from everyone: the ladies were attracted to the General like flies with honey, and Lucas Samos, beside whom Mare sat for lunch, wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and when he discovered that Mare preferred simple dishes to elaborate ones, he had nothing more to add until the end of the meal, when Mare apologized and immediately returned to Wren. As soon as the door closed behind her back, Miss Samos began to speak ill of her manners, which were declared very bad, a mixture of pride and impertinence.

“She has neither style, nor taste or beauty,” added Lady Haven. “In short, she has nothing that does her honour but to be an excellent walker. I’ll never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked like a savage.”

“I just managed to contain myself!” exclaimed the other. “What nonsense to go all that way through the mud for a simple cold. Besides, I would never have shown myself around with such sloppy, dishevelled hair.”

“Miss Barrow may not be a great conversationalist, and I guess your description may be correct,” replied the cousin, “but not only did I miss the muddy slip and the simple hairstyle, I can also say that I justify her little desire to chat, when her friend, for whom she feels a palpable affection, is in those conditions.”

“I am afraid, General, “observed Miss Samos, almost whispering, "that this adventure has somewhat shaken your admiration for her beautiful eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied, “they were enlightened by the exercise.”

A short pause followed, and it was Lady Haven who began again: “I have a lot of respect for Miss Wren, she really is one of the sweetest girls I had the pleasure to know, and with all my heart I would like for her to settle down well, but with such parents and modest kinship, I fear there’s no chance of that happening.”

"I seem to have heard you say her uncle is a scholar,” said Mr. Samos, who didn’t seem to have any objection to the words his sister and friend had addressed to Mare, but didn’t like those harsh comments towards of the other guest and wanted to end the topic quickly.

“Yes, and they have another one, who lives somewhere close to Cheapside,” replied his sister, unleashing her friend’s laughter.

“If she had enough uncles to fill all Cheapside”, exclaimed Ptolemus, who was starting to get really irritated, “that wouldn’t make her less nice.”

“But that actually diminishes her chance of marrying a man of some importance in society,” Cal replied quietly, hoping to be able to be a peacemaker now as he always did when they were children. Obviously Ptolemus didn’t like his words, and left the room in great strides, slamming the door behind him. Everything would be back to normal by tea time, he was sure, and in this way he had also managed to dispel, at least for a moment, from Evangeline’s mind the thought that he was in turn interested in one of their guests. After lingering for a while to amuse themselves at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar kinship, with a surge of tenderness, they went to her room, and stayed with her until they were called for tea. Wren was still very unwell, and Mare absolutely didn’t want to leave her until late evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and judged it correct, more than pleasant, to go downstairs. Entering the living room, she found them all playing cards and she was immediately invited to join, but suspecting they were playing hard she refused but decided to watch and listen to their conversation about Whitefire, General Calore’s estate, and his grandmother, a woman whose manners was widely praised by Miss Samos.

“It’s surprising to me,” said Mr. Samos, “ how many women have the patience to get to be so well educated as they all are; they can paint, play the piano, dance, sing and even embroider. I don’t know any who can’t do all this things, and I’m sure I’ve never heard of a woman before without being made aware of how well educated she was.”

"Your list of things commonly defined as education is all too true,” said the General. “The world is applied to many women who doesn’t deserve it and I can say it with certainty, after getting to know them better. I have to admit that, sadly, in my entire range of acquaintances, there are no more than half a dozen of really educated women.”

"Neither am I, I’m sure,” said Miss Samos. The more she knew her, the more it was evident that she was trying in every way to create bridges between her meagre personal ideas and those of the General, and Mare was ready to bet, even if she hated it, that she would be willing to trample any friendship or ideal in order to achieve her goal to marry him. If only their descriptions of what was a truly educated woman had been more alike, Mare would’ve said they were meant for each other, but their words were so diametrically opposed that she almost had to restrain herself from laughing, a task in which she was aided by the fact that General Calore described someone who was also very distant from both her, her family and her friends, a mixture of talent, good taste, elegance and commitment that didn’t even reflect the other two young ladies in the room, who began to protest so much that Lucas Samos had to impose some order on them so they could finish the game. Since the conversation had ended so bitterly, Mare left the room shortly after.

“Miss Barrow,” said Miss Samos, once the door closed, “is one of those young ladies who try to make a good impression with the opposite sex by underestimating their own, and I am convinced that with many men the thing is successful but, in my opinion, it’s a petty system, a squalid artifice.”

“No doubt,” replied Cal, who was the main recipient of this remark, “there is some meanness in all the tricks that ladies sometimes deign to use to seduce. Anything that has an affinity for cunning is despicable.”

Not completely satisfied with that answer, Evangeline dropped the subject. How dare he throw digs at her when he knew perfectly well what had pushed her this far? Not even Ptolemus intervened, and Elane gave her a sideways glance, to make sure she wasn’t making one of her scenes. It was probably the possibility that Miss Barrow or Miss Skonos might hear it that stopped her, but that didn’t prevented her, that very evening, from consoling herself in the privacy of her room with the one that everyone would forever call her dear friend. As always after Elane’s loving care, all tension was smoothed out, and the following morning, when Mare had the pleasure of being able to give a fairly positive response to the request for information she had received very early in the morning from Mr. Samos through a waitress, it was proposed that a note could be sent to Mrs Skonos to ask her to visit her daughter and see for herself the situation, inviting her to take Mrs Barrow and the younger Miss Barrow with her too. If she had found Wren visibly in danger, Mrs. Skonos would certainly have despaired, but felt satisfied to see that the disease didn’t cause any alarm, she didn’t wish she would recover immediately, given that a healing would probably have taken her out of the Hall of the Sun. Therefore, she didn’t want to listen to her daughter, whom proposed to be brought home, and also the pharmacist, who had almost reached the house at the same time, thought it was definitely inadvisable. After spending some time with Wren, the four women were invited by Miss Samos to join her and her brother in the breakfast room, where he welcomed them hoping that Mrs. Skonos hadn’t found her daughter worse than what she had expected, but his hopes were partly dashed, although the woman later took care to compliment them profusely both on their kindness and on the wonderful estate they had rented.

“I hope you’re not going to leave us too quickly, even if the lease is short,” said Mrs. Barrow, who hadn’t yet uttered a word except for the customary greetings.

“Whatever I do, I do it quickly,” he replied, “and so if I had to decide to leave the Hall, I would probably leave in five minutes. For the moment, however, I consider it a stable accommodation.”

"That’s exactly what I would’ve imagined from you,” Mare said.

“I didn’t know,” Miss Samos interjected, “you were a student of characters. ”

“It must be a fun study,” noted her cousin, who had recently joined them along with General Calore.

“Yes, but the intricate characters are the funniest. At least they have that advantage,” she replied, casting a quick glance at Tiberias, who, feeling drawn into question, reminded her that the countryside wasn’t exactly the best testing ground for studies like that.

“In a countryside area one moves within a restricted and uniform social environment.”

“But people change so much that there is always something new to observe,” replied Mare, always ready to change his mind about his prejudices on simple people. If she had addressed any other gentleman like that, her mother would’ve reminded her of her place in the world but since it was General Calore, she was happy to take her daughter’s side, although not in the best of ways, to the point that her interlocutor, after giving her a long puzzled look, walked away in silence and even Lucas Samos found himself embarrassed.

“You have completely misunderstood my friend: he only meant that in the countryside there certainly can’t be the same amount of people you can find in town.”

“Nobody says otherwise, but as for not frequenting so many people in these parts, I think there are few places richer in neighbours. All I know is that we know twenty-four families.”

Nothing but the regard towards Mare allowed Lucas to keep himself serious. The cousin was less delicate, and gave her brother a very expressive smile. Mare, in order to divert her mother’s thoughts, asked her if Diana Farley had been visiting them since she was at the Hall.

“Yes, she came yesterday with her father, but she didn’t stop for lunch because her mother was waiting for her at home to make apple pie for her little sister’s birthday. The Farleys are really good girls, I assure you, and they are also very nice, but if they are with Wren or my daughters… they inevitably end up taking a back seat. That’s what everyone says, I don’t just trust my partiality.”

“When Wren was only fifteen,” Lady Skonos added, “there was a gentleman at my sister’s so in love with her that my brother-in-law was sure he would’ve declared himself before we could leave. Instead nothing came of it. Maybe he thought that she was too young. However, he wrote some verses about her, and they were very pretty.”

“And so his love ended,” Mare said impatiently. “There were more than one, I guess, that ended up like this. I often ask myself who was the first to discover the effectiveness of poem in chasing love away!”

Obviously the General didn’t share her idea, and was more than happy to point this out, interrupting his conversation with Miss Samos. Mare too had the answer ready, and their quarrel was followed by a long silence, which forced Mrs Skonos to thank the homeowner again for the kindness showed to her daughter, and Mrs Barrow to apologize for the inconvenience caused by Mare, who still didn’t have the slightest intention of leaving. Mr. Samos gave a spontaneous and courteous reply, and also forced his sister to behave in the same way, although she didn’t play her part gracefully enough not to allow Mare to notice that hers was all fiction. The two older women, however, seemed to be content and when Mrs Skonos ordered the carriage, Gisa stepped forward as if on command and asked Mr. Samos when he intended to give the ball his cousin had promised he would tell him about when they arrived in the countryside. Gisa was a strong and well-developed girl of fifteen, with a beautiful complexion and a cheerful expression; it was her mother’s favourite, whose affection had led her to make her entry into society at a very early age. She had a bursting vitality, a kind of innate self-confidence, that the officers’ attentions had turned into cheekiness, making her the perfect candidate to address Mr. Samos about a ball which, if not given, would’ve been the worst of shame on his honour, at least in her words.

"I’m perfectly ready,” he reassured her, “and when your friend has recovered, you will set the date of the party, if you please.”

Gisa looked satisfied, and began to fantasize about what other events she would be able to organize and continued to do so even when they were gone and Mare returned to Wren, leaving her and her relatives behaviour at the mercy of the two ladies and the General, who nevertheless didn’t allow himself to be persuaded to join in the criticism despite all the jokes Evangeline made about beautiful eyes.

#pride and prejudice au #p&p #marecal #ptolewren #evane #mare barrow #cal calore #ptolemus samos #wren skonos #evangeline samos #elane haven #gisa barrow #ruth barrow #diana farley #madeline farley #lucas samos #anabel lerolan

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glossgf · 6 years

Text

; rose garden dreams (m)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, knight!yoongi x princess!reader

Genre: royalty au, forbidden love au, historical au, fluff, angst, smut

Words: 6,185

Summary: you, a princess not yet betrothed, and your knight, Yoongi, have fallen in love. But what happens when a prince asks for your hand in marriage? What will you and Yoongi do then...?

A/N: thank you @floralseokjin for helping me with this hhjvbhj <3

“Yoongi", you breathe out, “they’re so lovely". Your hand comes up to lightly touch one of the delicate petals.

“Here", you hear Yoongi shuffle and you turn to look in his direction. He kneels on the ground, dagger in hand before he removes one of the roses from the bush.

“Close your eyes", he whispers as you arch an eyebrow upward, a wondering smile on your face. You comply after he repeats his words, your eyes fluttering shut, the smile still on your face.

You feel Yoongi’s rough fingers lightly graze your cheeks before he moves on to gently caress your hair. He undoes your braids letting your hair down— your smile widens, my hair is like a bride’s, you think, your heart beating faster than before. He steps forward and leans in closer to you, still running his fingers through your hair. You feel his breath hit the side of your cheek which makes you blush as you think of how close he is to you.

He pulls your hair behind your ear, making sure the rose sits there before leaning down and whispering.

“There, even more lovely than before”. You feel his lips kiss just below your ear. The contact of his rough lips against your delicate skin causes you to gasp.

“Yo—Yoongi!”, you stutter but before you can say anything else his lips attach to your own. Your eyes open and widen in surprise before they flutter shut once more as you sink into his kiss.

Despite the roughness of his lips against yours, his kisses are sweet and gentle. His hand travels down your body to rest on your waist as yours come up to cup his face.

You kiss him back just as gently and slowly. Only here can Yoongi and you act like this, hidden away from everyone else, your only company being nature. At the castle Yoongi and you must act as expected— a princess and her knight.

You break away from the kiss but neither of you move away from each other; his hands are still wrapped around your waist, and yours still cup his face. You gaze at each other, as you catch your breaths, the blush across his cheeks matching your own.

You watch him as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, the leaves casting shadows over his face. “_____”, your name leaves his lips in a soft murmur, “my dear heart”. He squeezes your waist— a gesture that he so often repeats, especially when in the castle.

He smiles at you then, a smile that is for you only, a smile that makes your heart swell. He removes one of his hands from your waist to place it over your own that cups his cheek. He brings it down and kisses the palm before you entwine your fingers with his.

You want to stay like this forever. Spend forever like this with Yoongi. But you both know that can not happen. You are a princess and he is your knight. You’re relationship cannot be— must not be— anything more.

“An array of colours— oh! Ones that flower all year long!”, you exclaim a hand coming up to cover your chest as you describe your dream rose garden to Yoongi.

You’re in the forest again. Yoongi sits, resting against a stone ruin. You’re laying down, your head resting on his lap as he lazily runs his fingers through your hair.

Yoongi chuckles above you, “ones that flower all year long? We’ll have to discover them first.”

You nod, “Of course there has to be some out there somewhere!”

Yoongi hums, “tell me again— about what our garden would look like.”

“Like the castle gardens but better!”

“Because it would be filled with roses?”

“Yes. It would be the most prettiest garden! Even when the petals start to shed everything would still be so beautiful...so perfect…”, your voice falls into a whisper as you close your eyes picturing your perfect rose garden.

Yoongi hums, abandoning your hair and instead delicately drawing circles on your exposed shoulder.

“Yoongi", you giggle, wriggling around in your position. “That tickles!” You huff, sitting up and facing an amused Yoongi.

“Awh, is my princess angry with me?”

You hush him. “Don’t call me that!”, you whine folding your arms across your chest. You hate when he calls you that when it’s just the two of you.

Yoongi laughs, prying your arms loose. He entwines both his hands with yours. “Love, smile! I shall give you all the roses in the world!”, he smiles at you urging you to do the same.

You sigh before you mirror his expression, gazing at him so that you can memorise it and think about it when at the castle.

“Yoongi, we should leave now. It’s getting late, the sun is setting.”, you remove your gaze from his face to instead focus on the array of colours that indicate the end of the day.

“I wish we could spend more time like this",you sigh, a wistful look adorning your face.

“Hey”, Yoongi notices your smile fall. “Smile again, we’ll spend more days like this!”. His smile widens in an attempt to make yours return. He understands what you really mean but that is something he wishes to ignore, at least ignore right now.

You release your right hand from his, waving your pinky in front of his face.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

With that he wraps his pinky around yours and squeezes.

Several days pass with you completing your duties as a princess and Yoongi completing his as a knight. You haven’t spent time together since he promised that day.

Falling onto your bed, you let out a frustrated sigh as you think about the interactions— or rather lack of— you had had with Yoongi today.

He had just exited the King’s quarters. You heard his footsteps echo through the hallway before you saw him, yet you knew it was him. You picked up your speed, lifting the skirt of your dress up as to not trip over the fabric.

As soon as he was near enough you call him.

“Yoon—”, but he brushes past you. You had stopped in your tracks mouth open before shaking your head and deciding that he simply didn’t hear you. You followed him and called him once more but again he ignored you and you watched him as he strided through the wooden doors.

You had decided to not let it bother you but as the day progressed Yoongi still ignored you. He would stay close by you but wouldn’t engage in any conversations you tried to start. He didn’t even wish you a goodnight before he left for his room.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts. You scurry off the bed hopeful that it’s Yoongi coming to apologize for acting such a way today. However, to your dismay it’s your maid, Mina, come to dress you for the night.

“Uh, Mina…”, you bite your lip, uncertain of what exactly it is you want to ask. Mina moves to your front adjusting the ribbons of your night dress, humming as a response.

“Uhm, is— do you know if Yoongi is unwell?” Perhaps his health is making him act in such a manner, you think.

She sighs continuing her adjustments. “You’re worried about him?” Mina knows about Yoongi and you, and even though she disagrees with it she has kept quiet about it.

“Ah, well, yes. He’s been acting...different all day. I thought that maybe he would be ill.”

Mina hums, thinking of a response. She had observed the way Yoongi had been acting towards you today and even though she doesn’t like the way he is going about it, she figures it is best for both you and him.

“Look, princess. You know how I feel about Yoongi and you”. She removes her hands from your dress and looks up at you, a sad smile adorning her face. “I believe Yoongi is doing the right thing. You understand this cannot be, yes?”

Your mouth is open but you can’t think of any words to say. You drop your head, nodding instead.

“I know that it hurts now but this is for the best. For both of you”. She kisses the crown of your head, an attempt to comfort you.

“Come dear, you should sleep now”. She accompanies you to your bed, which you gladly crawl into. You wish Mina a goodnight before she blows out the candles. Once you hear the door close you bury your face into your pillow, muffling your sobs.

“There”, Mina finishes placing your headdress on and steps back admiring your appearance. “You look beautiful dear.”

You gaze down at your blue dress as a knock sounds on your door. Shifting your body to face your door, you look up to see Yoongi enter. He quickly glances at you before clearing his throat.

“The King wishes to see you in his quarters", he says avoiding your eyes.

“Now?”, you tilt your head to the side, wondering what your father wishes to tell you.

Yoongi nods.

“Will you be accompanying me?”. Perhaps you can ask him why he has been acting coldly towards you recently.

He shakes his head, “He wishes to speak with you alone.” You frown, becoming worried as your mind races with the worst possible ideas you can think of.

“Is that all?”

Again he nods and you dismiss him, sighing once he’s left.

“Mina, has something happened to my father or mother?”

She shakes her head, “I have not heard of anything. I’m sure they just wish to see how you are. Go on, you should head over there now.”

You nod, leaving your room and making your way to your parents’ quarter's.

Pushing the doors open, you’re met with a hug from your mother. “That dress looks wonderful on you darling! Do you like it?”

“Dear, don’t suffocate our daughter. Bring her here”, you hear your father’s voice.

“Is everything okay? Yoongi told me you wished to see me.”, you say to your mother after she releases you from her hug.

“Yes dear. Everything is fine. Come over here, we have some exciting news to tell you.”, she takes your hand and leads you to your seat which faces your father.

“Exciting news?”, you repeat tilting your head to the side, an eyebrow raised.

“You remember Namjoon, yes?”, your father questions and your eyes light up. Is he coming here?, you think, excited at the thought of him, Yoongi and you together once again. Perhaps if he does come, Yoongi will act as before, you think hopefully.

“Well, he has asked for your hand in marriage, and your mother and I think it will be for the best. For the two kingdoms and for you.”

Your heart becomes heavy, marry Namjoon, you repeat the words in your head, a frown settling on your face.

“____, are you not happy with—.”

“It does not matter if she isn’t happy— although I do not see why she should be unhappy— it has already been settled. Besides, Namjoon is an admirable young man, a promising future king. She should be pleased that she will be marrying a man she is well acquainted with.”

“Father, it’s already been settled? Do I not get a say in who I will marry?”

“And who do you suppose you marry?”

Yoongi. “I, I…You’re my father, you should listen to your daughter’s wishes”, you shake your head. You know your father is right. Who else will you marry?

“As your father and king, I would think you would obey me.”, he raises his voice and you gulp.

“Dear, calm down. This is a lot for to take in.”, you watch as your mother places her hand on your father’s arm.

He sighs, “You are right. But you will marry Namjoon, ____. And I will hear nothing more about it until that day.”

With that you jump from your seat and walk out the doors, ignoring your calls from your mother. Your heart pounds against your chest.

Yoongi. You have to find Yoongi. You need to see him.

You lift the skirt of your dress up as you pick up your pace slightly, heading towards his room. Once there you storm through, not bothering to knock. But he’s not there. You search throughout the castle rooms, but to your dismay, he is nowhere to be seen.

Deciding to search outside, you discard your shoes at the castle doors. Your bare feet hitting the ground as you run to the one place where you think— you hope— he might be. Curling your fingers over the silk of your skirt, you lift it up higher, the weight slowing you down due to your heel less height.

“Yoongi!”, you shout, stopping and bending over to catch your breath. He’s there, he’s here. He turns at the call of his name, his eyes wide at your wild appearance.

“Yoongi…”, your voice falters as your bottom lip quivers.

“You knew?”, you cry out unable to hold back your tears anymore.

He steps closer to you, reaching forward, put you step back. You don’t want him to see you like this.

Yoongi drops his arms to his sides, his gaze settling on the floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”, he murmurs, voice barely audible. “It was not my place to tell you.”, he shakes his head knowing that that’s not what you wanted to hear.

“But why have you been ignoring me? You could have acted the same way you always have!”. You shout. The way he’s been treating you is unfair, you think.

“Really? I could have acted just like before when I got told that you would be marrying someone else?!”, he raises his voice, nostrils flaring in anger, more so at himself than you.

Someone else. Your breath hitches as you repeat his words in your head.

“I ca— I cannot do this anymore.”, he whispers, head dropping down. He inhales deeply before bringing his head back up, remaining eye contact with you. His dull eyes focus on your tearful ones, his stare seeming empty. “We should have ended what we started a long time ago.”, he shakes his head, as if to correct himself. “No. We should have never started this at all.”

You watch him through your teary eyes, your eyelids feeling hot and a heaviness in your chest. He turns from you, stepping away from you and further into the forest. You decide to leave him be. He has made himself quite clear. He doesn’t want you anymore— he cannot have you anymore, not when you now belong to someone else.

You return to the castle, the aching of your heart increasing with each step you take. Your tears had ceased, for now, and you had managed to fix your appearance before entering your room where you find your mother and Mina deep in conversation.

“Oh, ____ dear, where have you been?”, your mother asks concerned.

You manage a smile to reassure her, “I was out in the gardens. I needed some time to think about what father told me.”

She nods, gesturing towards Mina, “I was just explaining to Mina.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile, “if you’re happy, then I’m happy, dear. Namjoon is a lovely man, I’m sure he will make you happy.”

Your mother nods, agreeing with Mina. “You may not love him now but I’m certain you will learn to as time progresses.”

Your smile falters ever so slightly at your mother’s words. “I’m sure I will.”

She smiles at your words, delighted that you seem to have accepted the news.

“I think you should rest for now. You have had a lot to think about this morning. I’ll have Mina call you down for lunch.”

With that they both leave you alone, your smile disappearing as you fall onto your bed. You bring your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. Shutting your eyes, you will yourself to sleep.

Each day that passes, is a day closer to your marriage. You had hoped that the heaviness in your chest would lessen as time moved on, especially since you had decided to treat Yoongi how he now treats you, but it hasn’t. It just becomes heavier.

Your interactions with Yoongi have been more or less non existent. The last conversation you had with him was one you wished to forget, but it was hard to do so. You would greet him in the morning, and everything else was kept short and professional. However, for some time he hasn’t been able to do that either. He had fallen ill, and had spent the last few days in bed recovering.

Everyday since then, you visited him, decorating his dark room with flowers from the gardens in order to brighten it up. You made sure he was asleep when doing this as you wanted to avoid having any conversations with him. Not because you did not want to speak to him— in fact quite the opposite, you longed to speak to him even if you were treating him unfairly— but because you were scared to speak to him.

Seeing him looking so frail and weak had added more pain on top of your already aching heart. Treating him the way you were was wrong, you understood that then, and you decided that you would speak to him before you left. You needed him to hear everything you had to say, hear everything you felt.

Thankfully, he had recovered yesterday, but you had decided against telling him then as Mina had informed you he would still be resting. That left today, your last day here, for tomorrow you will be travelling to your new home.

You had contemplated the whole day whether you should see him. Still contemplating, but that didn’t matter now because he had come to you.

You had thought it was Mina, come to pester you about going to sleep, but you were wrong.

“Mina, I told you I wo—”, you had started, turning to face her but you were cut off by being pulled into him. He buried his head in your shoulder, muttering ‘sorry’ over and over.

You stay like that for some time, feeling his hot tears run down your skin as he clutches at your waist. You hadn’t realised at first but now as you felt them wet your shoulder you wrapped your arms around him too. Burying your face against his chest, you wail his name, your own tears starting to fall.

You are unsure of how long you stay like that but when you feel him lift his head you grip onto him tighter.

“Please stay. Please…”, you plead against his chest, unsure whether he heard but hoping your tight grip would make him understand.

He squeezes your waist. “____, look at me.”, he murmurs, rocking you slowly as your tears continued to soak his chest.

You pull away, hands still clutching his chest as you look up at him through your teary eyes. His lips stretch into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his dark eyes which tears still fall from.

He takes your hand from his chest, entwining his fingers with yours.

“Yoongi, I do not want to be with Namjoon. I want— I want— .”, your gaze drops from his, your lip trembling as you feel more tears threatening to fall.

He hushes you. “Let’s not speak about that tonight. Tonight, you’re with me. For I am yours and you are mine. Even if just for one night…Even if we can’t spend forever together, I want to spend this last night with you. I want you, ____.”, he drops his hand from yours, cupping your cheek instead. “If you will have me.”

“Yoongi”, you breathe out. “I want you too.”, and with that his lips attach to yours. It happens so fast that your noses bump against each other. You giggle, your hot tears running into your mouth, as Yoongi pulls away murmuring ‘sorry’ over and over, kissing the tip of your nose again and again.

“Yoongi”, you whisper, cupping his cheek. You stare at each other once more before you lean in, tilting your head and meeting his lips. This is what you want, what you’ve always wanted. This is how it should be, two lovers kissing and touching each other.

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer whilst also pushing you against the wall. He wants to— needs to— feel more of you, taste more of you. You feel the cold stone wall press into your back. Your fingers tangle between the strands of his damp hair, pulling slightly as he moans into your mouth.

He lifts you up, the skirt of your night dress riding up your legs as you wrap them around his waist. You break away from the kiss, your breathing heavy. His glassy eyes are blown out, his eyelashes still slightly wet from his tears. You bring a hand just under his right eye, using your sleeve to wipe away the tears that have started to dry.

Neither of you speak as he guides you to your bed, placing you down on your sheets before climbing on top of you and settling between your legs. His eyes fall from your own to your parted lips. Your eyes squeezing shut as you await for what is to come, but it never does.

Opening your eyes, you see Yoongi staring down at you. He swallows hard before speaking.

“_____, are yo— should we…”. He’s unsure of what to say, his mind filled with thoughts of you.

You sit up causing him to follow. You make sure to remain eye contact with him as you take his hand and place it on your chest.

“Do you feel that Yoongi?”, you whisper, referring to your pounding heart. “Yoongi”, you breath out. “My heart, it beats for you. And for you only.”

He tilts his head back, taking in a deep breath as he tries to calm his own racing heart and thoughts.

“Are you— are you sure?”

You lower his hand so that it cups your breast. “Yoongi, I want you. I want all of you.”

His head drops down and his gaze lands on his hand which cups your clothed breast. He squeezes, causing you to gasp and a blush form across your cheeks.

He gulps, taking your free hand and placing it above his crotch. You feel his erection through his breeches and bite your bottom lip.

“All for me?”, you ask, smiling up at Yoongi, blush still as vibrant. His head falls forward, a soft moan leaving him as you gently squeeze his erection. His hair covers his eyes but you can still detect the hint of a blush forming on his face.

He buries his face in your shoulder, planting kisses there before travelling lower and stopping at your collarbone. His hands move up your waist before fumbling with the ribbon that holds your dress together.

“Wa— wait!”. You clasp your hand around his wrist stopping him from untying the ribbon.

“Can I take your shirt off first, please?”

He nods, removing his hands from you. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt. Once all the buttons are undone you place the palms of your hands on his still clothed chest, feeling how it moves with each inhale and exhale he takes. You curl your fingers around the cloth of his shirt and peel it off him, revealing his lean torso. A shudder travels up your spine as you feel his hot skin.

With his shirt off, you stand up from the bed turning to face Yoongi. You inhale deeply as your fingers come up to untie the ribbon holding your dress together. Your dress slips down, exposing your bare shoulders. You hold it up in place before meeting Yoongi’s eyes and continuing. You drop your arms to your sides, letting your dress fall too. It pools on the floor, revealing your bare self to Yoongi. You shut your eyes, swallowing hard, before you step out of your dress, your hand coming up to reach his.

He inhales sharply before taking your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing your hot, smooth skin. He murmurs your name against your hand.

“____, my dear heart. You look so beautiful!”, he praises, his gaze travelling from your eyes, past the curve of your breasts, and lower down, only to travel back up and meet your eyes again.

You return to the bed laying in your previous position, the cold silk sheets a refreshing contrast to your hot skin. Yoongi settles between your legs once again. He leans forward, raking his fingers through your hair, before his lips meet yours.

This time he kisses you like all the other times before; gently and slowly. He licks your bottom lip and you part your own, allowing him to slip his tongue in. He swirls his tongue around yours, his fingers ghosting over your bare side.

He pulls away from your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath, and begins trailing kisses from your jawline to your cleavage. His kisses travel to the soft swell of your breast, warm tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. His fingers tracing circles around your other one. “Yoongi”, you murmur his name as he continues his actions.

He removes his mouth from your breast, gazing up at your face. Wetting his lips he asks, “how do you feel?”.

“I’m— I feel good", you whisper, eyes never leaving his. “That felt good…”, you mumble.

Yoongi’s eyes widen suddenly, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards. “It did?”. You nod returning his smile.

Dropping his gaze from you, he shifts on the bed slightly. His hand coming up and rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, so you— do you want to continue?”.

You cover your mouth with your hand— an attempt to stifle your giggles at his cuteness. The Yoongi you see before you now is one you you don’t remember ever seeing.

“Yoongi, look at me", he shifts his gaze to your sparkling eyes. “Give me your hand”, you reach up taking his hand in yours and kissing it. “My love! Of course I want to continue.”, you whisper.

He brings his face closer to yours, lightly tracing the outline of your lips with his finger before cupping your cheek. He presses his lips to yours, hard and fast, before continuing to leave open mouthed kisses down to your navel.

His hands rest on your inner thighs, gently pushing them open. A shudder travels up your spine as you feel his hot, shaky breath ghost over your skin as he uses his fingers to lightly trace circles on your hips.

His kisses come closer to your core, and you feel his tongue lick a stripe up your folds. You shudder and his hands grip your hips tight, pressing you into the bed as he hums lowly, tongue coming out to wash over your heat once again. You grip the sheets with one hand, holding your breath as the tip of his muscle glides across something sensitive. It feels good, and you can’t help the noise that leaves your lips. He freezes before repeating the action, eliciting another sweet like moan from you.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi murmurs, pulling away to look up at you, again rubbing circles on your hips.

You nod, a crooked smile forming as you reach for his cheek with your free hand, cupping the hot skin. He leans into your touch, eyes closing slightly as he exhales softly, and your heart jumps when you notice the shine around his upper lip. You. You’ve stained him.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, “please continue.”

His eyes flutter open, black and intense and he moves again, your palm dropping from his face. This time he works a little faster, letting his tongue curl against the spot that has you breathless. He seems to be enjoying it as much as you, throaty noises leaving him as you spread your legs wider, greedy for more.

It’s when your hand reaches for his locks with a whine, does he groan and give out, pulling away to look up at you with pleading eyes, strands of damp hair hanging in his face.

“I want you, please,” he begs. You jump a little when you feel a finger against your entrance, lightly tracing the swollen flesh.

“Please, let me have you now.”

You keen, hips rolling into his touch, the pad of his finger coated with your arousal. You can feel it. Everywhere. Your body thrums for him so bad it hurts. You want him too. You have never wanted anything more in your whole life.

“Have me, Yoongi,” you murmur, not bothering to clear your throat despite your words coming out broken. “Take what’s yours.”

He moves like lightning, arousal coating the inside of your thigh as he holds your leg open, falling against your body again, his mouth meeting yours. You taste yourself against his lips and you can’t help but let out a sigh, back arching as you feel his erection press against your pelvis. The hunger snarls in your abdomen.

He pulls away from you, hastily removing his breeches and undergarments, discarding them on the floor with your dress. You watch him return to his previous position above you. Shivers travel through your body as you think about how he will feel inside you. He aligns himself with your entrance before leaning his face towards yours. His shaky breath tickles the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispers against it.

“_____, my heart, you are so perfect.”

A shy smile forms on your face as you reach for his hand. He entwines his fingers with yours, resting your hands on the sheets.

“Is it okay if I put it in now?.”, he asks, biting his lip and looking up at you for approval. You nod, and he starts slowly pushing into you, your free hand grips his bicep, nails digging into his skin as your other squeezes his hand. He pauses, moaning as he adjusts himself to the feeling of you around him.

He leans forward, placing kisses all over your face to serve as a distraction, as he pushes himself further inside. He pulls his face away from you as he notices the tears that have trailed down the sides of your face.

“Does it— do you want me to stop?”, he asks, voice heavily laced with worry.

You shake your head. “No, I want you to continue. I— I’m…”. You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold back your tears. You shouldn’t be crying, you think, not when you’re with the man you love.

“Do not cry, ____, my love. Please. We should be happy. We are together now.”, he squeezes your hand, using his free one to wipe away your fresh tears.

“How can you tell me to not cry when you are doing just that?”. You whisper, smiling up at him, your own free hand coming to wipe away his own tears.

He chuckles, kissing the palm of your hand that wipes at his tears. “Then we shall make them tears of happiness.”

“I love you, Yoongi.”, you breath out. You expect he already knows but you need him to hear how you feel.

He gently brushes the hair from your face, “and I love you.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing along the sensitive skin.

He doesn’t move for some time, and you move beneath him slightly, hoping he would catch on. Taking that as his signal, he starts to pull out and push on slowly.

You grip his hips, pulling him closer to yourself as you arch your own into him, both gasping as he slides all the way into you.

He places a hand on your pillow, steadying himself as he looks down at you.

“Am I hurting you?”, he whispers.

You shake your head, replying softly. “No. At least not as much now.” You run your fingers up and down his back.

He pulls out, only to move slowly inside you again. Soft moans of pleasure leaving you, which increases his own, every sense of his heightened.

“Yoongi”, you murmur his name as he continues his movements, slightly faster than before. The feelings of discomfort ebbing as feelings of pleasure slowly take over instead. He removes his hand from yours to rest against your waist, his lips coming to meet yours once more, desperate to feel more of you.

You kiss him back just as intently and desperately, hoping that he understands just how he makes you feel. You know that what you’re doing is wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not in this moment, for tonight you are Yoongi’s, and Yoongi’s alone.

Pulling away from your lips, his eyes fixate on you, taking in your appearance; how your hair is sprawled across the pillow, how your eyes are red, your lashes still wet from your tears, yet how they glow with such adoration and love— for him. All for him. He memorises it all, before squeezing his eyes shut and picturing you in his mind. He must not forget, he will not forget, he will forever remember the image of his lover during the first and last night he spent with you.

Your name falls from his lips, over and over, as he quickens his pace. His nails dig into your side, and you watch him as he bites his bottom lip, head tilting back.

The once steady rhythm he had set begins to falter, his uneven breaths becoming heavier. You take his hand in yours peppering kisses across his skin. A soft grunt leaves him as you feel warmth fill you.

He rests on top of you as he catches his breath. He removes himself from inside of you, sitting up and bringing you with him. His fingers come up to brush the strands of damp hair from your face, before he cups your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, as a smile adorns your face.How long I’ve waited to see that smile again, he thinks silently. With Yoongi you feel complete.

He kisses your forehead before whispering softly, “we should get you dressed.”

He steps off the bed, picking up your night dress from the floor.

“Can you stand?”, he asks, taking in your tired appearance.

You nod, lifting yourself from the bed. You lose your balance but Yoongi’s quick enough to grab you and position you upright.

“Okay?”, he chuckles lightly, a blush forming on your cheeks. “Arms up.”

You lift your arms up as Yoongi places the holes of your dress over your head. He pulls down the fabric so that it sits on you correctly, lacing up and tying the ribbon so that it doesn’t hang from you.

Sitting back on your bed you watch Yoongi as he dresses himself. “Yoongi", you say softly. “Stay with me, please.”

He nods, returning to your bed.

“Promise?”, you yawn.

“Promise.”

He pulls back the covers waiting for you to get under before he follows, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses the top of your head.

“How do you feel?”, he whispers, drawing circles over your clothed skin, helping you relax.

“I feel content.”, you murmur into his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat relax you further. “How do you feel?”

You feel him smile against your head before he answers. “I feel…”, he pauses trying to think of the right word. “Whole. My love, you make my heart feel whole!”. He kisses the top of your head again, gently squeezing your waist. You smile against his chest, pleased with his answer.

Neither of you speak after that. He watches you as your breathing slows and you drift of into sleep, wishing that you’ll have nothing but wonderful dreams. He holds you long after you have fallen asleep, he can’t seem to let go. He wants to stay like this forever, stay in your embrace forever. But he understands that that he cannot.

He slowly and gently removes himself from you so as not to wake you. He looks at your peaceful, sleeping figure once more before kissing your cheek. “Goodbye, my dear heart.”. And with that he blows out the candles, leaving your room to return to his.

The next time you see Yoongi is when you stand in front of your carriage. He kept his promise, you think, he’s going to stay with you. You enter the carriage, sitting next to him, smiling to yourself, a blush forming as you think back to last night. A shy smile of his own on his face as he asks you to close your eyes.

You comply, feeling his hands fiddle with your headpiece. Once he tells you to open them, you look at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. You bring your hand up, to feel around your headpiece. And you gasp, your smile returning as you feel the delicateness of flower petals— a rose.

#thanks jordan love you!!#yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #cerisehope:writings

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ladyeleanorfortescue · 5 years

Text

Flashback

Evening, September 2nd 1809

Mary was now Baroness Killenaigh. She was shipped off to Gloucestershire, not even a true honeymoon to look forward to, for the husband would not risk it amidst the war and with his age. Eleanor thought of Miss Fenella Stuart back in Tyrehampton, who had married an older man, too, but had been gifted a voyage around the most mystical places... But Mary was not Fenella. Mary found little joy in life. Mary did what was asked of her. Mary settled for the future their parents had planned. Eleanor... She did too, she supposed... And that notion had her stomach on the tightest knot it had ever been in. What was silent rebellion worth? Not a penny... But did she have the guts to voice it? And lose it all?

"Eleanor, do you truly despise Baron Killenaigh so much?" Anne asked as they went into the room she had shared with Mary, pulling her sister out of her thoughts, "You do not even know him."

Eleanor sighed, letting herself fall on Anne's bed. Her sister did not understand, it was not the groom that made her unhappy.

"No, Annie," her sad eyes gazing intently at the ceiling. "I despise a marriage without affection. Without love. A marriage of convenience... Mary might not mind, but I do. And you must too, do you not? Alas! We, too, shall be forced into them!"

"Ellie, Mary has not been forced. And you know very well affection can come after taking the vows..." the fragile Fortescue tried to reason with Eleanor as she sat on a corner of the bed.

"And what if it does not?" the wretched lady did not move but her eyes found her sister's.

Silence. Anne was searching for the words to reply when her sister broke it.

"What if one's affection is already elsewhere?"

"Perhaps one could marry that elsewhere," the elder joked lightly.

"Oh, Anne, if only it were all that simple!" Eleanor's despairing hands came to her face, "What if elsewhere had no fortune? And no title? What if elsewhere was everything our parents, society, would disapprove of?" she propped herself up on her elbows, her expression contorted with sadness and worry. She had thought herself so bold while away… Now, her braveness was outnumbered, harassed.

Anne began to understand. Her sister had been behaving strangely ever since she had arrived in London and it was clear now the only cause had not been the wedding. Had Eleanor given her heart away? What exactly had happened? She feared the worst and had to muster the courage to dare ask…

"Is elsewhere somewhere?" her tone was soft, shy. She had always thought Eleanor too quick to trust, too quick to love... She did not think it the fatal flaw the rest of the family did, but it was certainly a dangerous thing. And how afflicted she was! Something serious certainly had come to pass...

"Yes," was all the reply Anne received before Eleanor plunged back into the mattress. The younger girl would have started crying if had she not shed all the tears in her system already, bitter resignation clouding her judgement.

Silence. Again. Anne did not know what to say. She had little experience with the world, with people, with men... She was curious about love, but sensible enough to know it forbidden. And where could she come across it anyway? An invalid, locked up in a room most of the time...

"Can I know his name?" Anne asked. It was by far the less intruding of the questions cluttering her throat.

Ellie hesitated. Speaking it out loud…

"Jack..." she revealed after a moment's thought, her hand moving up to the fine silver chain hanging down her neck.

A Christian name. No last name or preceding title... Eleanor had already revealed he was no man of fortune, it was not that the reason why Anne's face contorted in worry, but the realization of the importance of it all. Had Eleanor already taken such liberties? Established such a confidential and perilous attachment?

"Ellie..." Anne began, but whatever she intended to say was lost forever when she was abruptly cut off.

"I know what you will say. Exactly what Verity said the first time I told her of it... What I thought."

Anne looked at her sister, surprised. She felt hurt and displaced at finding out Miss Hawkins had known before her... But she also understood Verity had been there, at hand's reach, and she had not.

Eleanor did not seem to notice anything, absorbed as she was by her own feelings. The usual.

"But I do not want to hear it, Anne. It is over. Do you hear me? We... We know it is impossible... We know it is more trouble than it is worth..." Except it was not. Eleanor was each day more certain that she would throw it all away for a mere second at his side. And since that last meeting she had been harbouring the intention of doing so if he allowed… She was essentially lying to Anne, pretending there was nothing to be concerned of… She pressed her lips together, tears dwindling from her lashes. "We said our goodbyes. You do not have to worry... I am not ruined, you see? No need to tell mother." She tried to joke, but it did not come out right. And tears slipped down her cheeks. "It is over, but that does not mean I cannot dream... "

Anne did not know what to believe. And her heart felt a pang at the miserable sight of her sister's suffering.

"Was it this?" Anne said, composed but tremendously concerned. "Why you cried before? When you left London?"

"No," Eleanor sobbed and sat up, "No, back then I could not even imagine- I- He-

Annie studied her intently as she seemed to tidy her thoughts.

"My friend, Sir Percy Blackmore," Eleanor continued, "My tears were for him. He… passed away, as you know... And it broke my heart. He was... So very kind. And so very young!"

Anne wondered what hid behind Eleanor's words, how could she had possibly been so afflicted by the death of someone she had known but a month or so? Her pain back then had not resembled the pain she was usually assaulted with when hearing of the misfortunes of a brief acquaintance. Anne had then suspected it to be an affair of the heart... And she had not been completely wrong, for so it had been. But in Eleanor's eyes, mistakenly so. And it pained her. For she had not known herself or her feelings. And because there was a witness to her foolishness... One that, now, had been the beholder of her feverish passions twice. One she feared thought her inconstant and deluded... Of course the witness in question was Miss Verity Hawkins.

"And I do not- I was not in love with him," Eleanor assured Anne, wiping tears away from her eyes, her cheeks growing scarlett. "Although I then believed so. I... I suppose I could have come to love him... But I do not think he could have come to love me. And... Oh, it is no use wondering what might have been... He is... dead..." Although she had not really been enamoured with him, she still esteemed him greatly and it was hard to speak of his disappearance from the earthly plane. "And my heart is elsewhere now..."

Surely if Eleanor had had a change of heart before, she could have one again, Anne thought, mistaking her for the feeble, forgetful creature Eleanor herself feared to appear as. But it was not so. Eleanor's affections were not fleeting... She was quick to trust, but never quick to forget... Every person she encountered left an imprint on her soul. But her soul had never been touched in such a manner before and of that she was certain as she was certain the sun rose in the East...

"But it shall return to you," Lady Anne determined, earning a stern look from her younger sister. "If it is over, surely he cannot keep it forever..."

"And what do you know, Anne?!" outraged, the younger girl rose to her feet. "He can keep it for as long as I wish him to! But I suppose you would not understand, you are just like the rest of them!" She spat. "Mother! Hester! Hugh! And now Mary! Joined in holy matrimony for the sake of duty! Of advancement! Of nothing better to do! Unfeeling, insensitive beings! They would dismiss love if it came knocking on their door as they would do a poor peddler! But I thought you to be different! I thought you were like George and I! I thought you would understand."

"How can I understand you, Eleanor, if you do not talk to me?" Anne's eyes were stinging, her pale countenance barely coloured by ache.

"And how can I talk to you when you think so badly of me?!"

Her sharp tone, her words made her head hurt, made her fingers tingle… Anne closed her eyes for a moment, pride keeping her from showing weakness.

"I? Think badly of you?" she muttered, trying to focus on the face of the upset young woman. "I have lent you my ears for you to flood them with your troubles for years!"

"Well, then you must not be a very good listener! For you do not know me at all! Your ears may be up for lease, but my heart is not!" Eleanor cried, turning her back to Anne, to her subtle, unspoken accusations. And to the very possibility of them level pegging with the truth.

"I never said…" Anne winced, bringing a hand to her forehead.

And, for the third time: Silence. A silence that unnerved distraught Eleanor, who still had many frustrations to take out on her poor innocent sister.

"What? You never said what?" she turned back to face Anne, but found her in such a deplorable state that guilt immediately settled on her being. "Anne? " she asked in a distressed tone, the fire well put out, as she neared her, regret already eating her out… "Anne," she insisted when she received no reply but a barely audible grunt, "Anne, is it happening again?" Eleanor took her hand, "Annie, Annie, lay down, lay down," said she as she helped her do so. When nervous or afflicted, she had the annoying habit of repeating everything twice. "I shall go get Verity! She will make you some tea-"

"No," Anne muttered, grabbing feebly onto her sister's arm. "I am all right," the poor, frail girl, unable to hold a grudge for long mumbled, her eyelids fluttering open to prove it. And it was no lie… That was a trifle compared to the actual episodes. "I am simply tired… Do not bring Miss Hawkins,"

"Are you sure? Oh, Anne, if you feel so terribly unwell-

"I do not."

"But I gave you cause for distress, I am so sorry!" Ellie leaned onto her sister's arm, "I take it back, I take it back! I am so sorry, so sorry, forgive me!"

"I shall if you stop screaming…" Annie tried to joke, but her eyes flickered shut as sharp pain shot through her head.

"Annie, please! Verity could he-

"Eleanor, do not disturb Miss Hawkins on my account. I am perfectly fine. If you do wish to disturb someone, let it be Hannah," the elder girl said as she felt for her pulse in her wrist, quite convinced she would not pass out.

"Hannah? What does Hannah know of your treatment?"

"I do not wish to be treated, Ellie, I wish to go to bed," and she was quite resolved to do it. "It has been a long day, I have exhausted myself beyond my possibilities… Call Hannah to help me prepare for bed."

"Oh… Very well. But I shall come and check on you every hour!" Eleanor, the picture of culpability, swore.

"As long as you do not wake me," Annie said, knowing full well the promise would not be brought to fruition.

"I shan't," the words were solemnly delivered and, with a gentle squeeze of her sister's hand, Eleanor went out the room.

#Story #Flashback #Anne Fortescue #Ellie & Annie

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knightfury1895 · 7 years

Text

Fatigue and Anguish

There is the sound of a bird scolding somewhere nearby - the alarm-call immediately alerts me in my hiding place and I tense, preparing myself for another long run should Moran appear. Already I am weary, having received more exercise in two days than would usually be forced upon me in a year, but if I am to live long enough to return home to London I must endure still more. All is silent around me now, bringing a sense of foreboding and for a moment all that I can hear is my own heartbeat and the blood roaring in my ears. Then I become aware of another sound - there is but a faint sound that is similar to the rustle of fabric, coming from behind me and I turn my head slowly. The red eyes of a gigantic adder gleam at me from beneath a nearby fallen tree and I almost give a cry of terror as I scramble backward from my place of concealment, all thoughts of Moran and his gun dashed from my mind at the sight of this new foe.

Exhausted as I am, running proves to be futile - I feel as if I am doing little more than jogging on the spot, while the monstrous serpent glides after me in a manner that seems effortless. I leap over obstacles, bound through streams and across ditches as I become increasingly desperate to escape, but the snake remains forever at my heels. My chest is burning, my vision dimming, every part of me aches with fatigue and there is now an unpleasant, fear-induced discomfort in my lower abdomen. I know that I cannot go on! In one final attempt to increase my speed I try to drag myself up a steep incline on all fours but I am badly winded and shaking. My strength is beginning to tell and the adder would seem to know it. I am lost.

I jerk awake, still being chased by the giant adder of my dream, and attempt to bring my racing heart and breathing under control as I realise that the vision, though vivid, was not real.

Every last part of me is aching, paining and protesting. My head, my eyes, my jaw, my arms, legs… I have more discomforts than I could possibly catalogue. Should I attempt to stretch or remain still? Would it make a jot of difference? Even my hair and fingernails seem to hurt, so most probably not. I very much doubt that I have been in slumber for long.

Whilst trying not to move, I study my surroundings to the best of my ability, doing my utmost to forget that dream. By the fading daylight and the glow of the fire I can see that I have been moved to the settee. Watson is stretched out in his armchair and I can dimly see that the poor fellow’s face is streaked with tears and creased with worry. What have I done to him?

Further inspection of my surroundings informs me that there is a bucket on the floor, close to my head, I have been covered with rugs and there is a pitcher of water on the coffee table. Oh. Just the sight of that pitcher is enough to send me into a state of near-panic. Whether it is indeed due to the horribly vivid nightmare or the amount of water that I have been plied with I am not sure, but I have to move myself somehow or else Mrs. Hudson is going to be rather angry with me.

Carefully, I force myself into an upright position. I must not move too quickly or else I might faint. That, in my current condition, would no doubt be disastrous. Just keep calm Holmes, for Heaven’s sake! You can wait. Slowly… Gently… Oh God! This is simply not normal; my bladder does not feel as if it is full in the slightest and yet my wretched body is threatening me, warning me that I am moments away from making a frightful mess on the floor! What is happening to me?

I had not realised that I had made a sound, but I have somehow alerted Watson. The fellow chooses the most inconvenient moments to be damned observant.

“What is wrong Holmes?” he asks as he approaches me. “I can see that you are in distress.”

I groan and gesture in the direction of the washroom with a less than steady hand. I cannot wait! I can feel my wretched body rebelling.

“I am going to urinate!” That was nice… I could have at least attempted to remain polite. An outburst like that would have earned me a sound beating from my nanny when I was a child and if I was expected to control myself then I should be able to do so now.

“Do not panic,” he advises me in an annoyingly calm tone. “If you keep calm it will be easier to control yourself. Now, lean on me. Yes, that is it. The lavatory is only a few steps away; you will be all right.”

I heed his advice to the best of my ability but I am too desperate to remain calm. I am shaking with effort as much as the urgency of the situation and still I can feel myself losing control. I want to run, but that would only increase the difficulty that I am having. What is happening to me? Why is it so hard for me to wait? This should not be difficult!

“Watson…”

He nods and gives me a reassuring smile as he coaxes me ever onward. “Nearly there Holmes. Nearly there. You are doing very well.”

No I am not. I fear that I am about to disappoint him terribly! My body is rebelling horribly and it is taking all of my strength to counter it. I should not be in this situation! Even when ill, I can wait for hours on end without difficulty - regardless of the level of my discomfort - as cases will sometimes dictate. The thought of losing control of myself here in my sitting room in front of Watson, like a helpless infant, is ridiculous to the extreme!

Despite my best efforts, one of my careful steps causes my wretched brain’s appendix to gain the upper hand for a moment and I hasten to squeeze my legs together. I can only be thankful that the nightgown that I am wearing should conceal it and hope that my friend is unaware of what has just happened. With a groan I press on, keeping my steps measured and trying not to breathe.

As we step inside the washroom, I almost lose the battle with my wretched body completely. I know not whether it is due to the chill in the room and the cold tiles beneath my bare feet or simply the knowledge that I am in such close proximity to the lavatory. Whilst avoiding my Boswell’s gaze I begin to step awkwardly from foot to foot in a final effort to control myself.

“Excuse me please Doctor,” I snap at him as I resist the urge to relieve myself while he is still in the room. “I can manage now.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” he retreats hastily, for which I am grateful, though he leaves the door ajar. “It is not shameful to sit, rather than to stand, when one is unwell,” he reminds me quietly from behind the door, as if he fears that I might collapse were I to attempt remaining on my feet.

Hum. Perhaps I should not maintain my upright position simply to be contrary… I am feeling far worse than I ever remember feeling before. I might actually consider never partaking of cocaine again!

As I tend to myself and attempt to bring the trembling in my limbs back under control, I wonder again why this has happened. Why did I almost make a puddle in the sitting room, when I should not have even felt a strong need to visit the lavatory? Is there something wrong with me? Should I inform Watson?

I hear Watson tap at the door when I am washing my hands. “Are you all right Holmes?”

I nod without so much as turning to meet his gaze.

“Come on then, we should get you back to the sofa. Um… do you want to change your clothes?”

I freeze at the question. What is he implying? Does he know that I was not altogether successful in waiting until the right moment?

“I noticed that you were perspiring Holmes,” my Boswell clarifies patiently. “Do you want to wash and change into a fresh nightshirt? I imagine you are feeling somewhat uncomfortable.”

I confess that I am. I should like to know why I am sweating so profusely while I am so cold though. Does cocaine usage usually affect me in such a manner?

“I truly am dreadfully sorry Holmes,” my friend tells me as he escorts me from the washroom and sits me upon the settee once more, having assisted me in washing and dressing. “I shall not let this happen again.”

“What is happening to me?” I ask of him, still feeling rather unnerved by the recent incident.

“You are ill old fellow! Things like this happen sometimes. You were simply too weary to be aware of nature’s calling to you until it was almost too late, that is all. You did very well under the circumstances - I have seen far worse, you know.”

Is the knowledge that he has seen worse truly supposed to reassure me? I avoid meeting his gaze. I should tell him that there is something wrong, but it is embarrassing and I am not quite sure how to articulate the problem in any case. Not knowing what else to do or say, I again begin to apologise.

“Please don’t,” he begs of me. “I know that you would not do this deliberately old fellow; you can stop apologising. Besides, you did warn me that you were in a hurry - and I shall be more inclined to listen in future.”

“Thank you.”

He nods and pats my knee with a compassionate smile.

“Should I feel like that again…” I shudder at the thought.

“If you become as desperate as that again I shall give you something to use,” he informs me firmly. “That is precisely what I should have done this time, when I saw the level of your distress. I should know you well enough to realise that you would not make such a fuss unless you truly doubted your own ability to control yourself - and I should be apologising to you!”

I would rather not be treated as an invalid, but if it is that or a repeat performance of what could easily have transpired in our sitting room moments ago I suppose I have no choice in the matter. At least my companion is still treating me with as much dignity as he can.

“Is there anything that I can do for you?” my companion asks once I have been made comfortable and the fire has been tended. “You must be terribly bored… I could read to you, if you would like.”

Watson often read to me when I was ill and weary before my hiatus. I missed that terribly - much more than I would have expected - on the last occasion that I was unwell. I missed him more than I could ever have imagined! I smile at him.

“Yes please,” I mumble as I pull the rugs closer to me. I want to tell him how I have missed his narratives, but after the harm that my proposition caused this morning I am afraid to speak a word.

He nods and addresses me with a small smile. “Poetry? Shakespeare?”

“Shakespeare.” I would have to be ill indeed to want to hear poetry! Though, I must confess, I did read some Browning and a little Keats and Wordsworth during my hiatus, when I was feeling particularly homesick, and imagined that it was Watson who was reading it. It worked for a week or two, but soon wore off with overuse.

His smile broadens. “Of course. Do you have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

He drags his medical bag closer to his chair and rummages in it. Then, with a nod, he withdraws a book from it.

“Do you always carry books with you?”

“Ever since I found that it helps you to settle,” he responds as he stands to sit at my ankles on the settee, bringing with him his bag and the book that he has already taken from it. “I carry a little poetry and one or two stories; they often help to soothe a troubled patient. Particularly fretful women and children. I should thank you.”

“Thank you Watson. I am not behaving like a fretful woman or child!”

His face flushes under my annoyed stare. “No, of course not. I was not suggesting that you were. I only meant that reading to a fretful patient has proved to be beneficial and that I only tried it because I had already discovered that it would seem to be of comfort to you.”

Ah. I try to dismiss the irrational irritation, but it is still present and no doubt brought about by the narcotic more than anything else. “I would not have thought that you would have time for such things during your rounds.” I am not put out, merely surprised by this revelation that this is not special treatment which is reserved just for me; after all, I am Watson’s closest friend!

“I am sometimes the only fellow at hand who is able to read and write Holmes. Under those circumstances, I read something and then advise a family member to make up stories or to perhaps sing quietly.”

I nod and settle back. Now I understand; it is simply a case of when needs must. That makes perfect sense.

“Now, shall I begin?” he asks as he makes himself comfortable.

I frown at him. “Why are you sitting there? Would you not be better off in your chair?” I do not wish to be seen in the throes of a nightmare - I feel that I have endured quite enough humiliation for one day! Besides, I might lash out and injure the dear chap.

“I want to be close if you need me. I do not want you to vex yourself needlessly old fellow. Now, shall I begin?”

I nod and close my eyes with a quiet sigh. I suppose the doctor knows what he is doing better than I do.

With closed eyes and my heightened imagination (courtesy of the cocaine still coursing through my veins) I can easily picture the scenes depicted in the tale. It takes the briefest of moments for me to become calmer.

When the story reaches its conclusion and I am still awake, my companion asks whether I am in any discomfort. I could easily snap at him - after all, I am aching terribly with fatigue so the answer is quite obvious - but I refrain. Watson did not have to return to care for me any more than he has to stay; if I become difficult, he has every right to send for a different doctor and abandon me in favour of his less ungrateful and stubborn patients.

“No more so than I have been since before you returned,” I respond in what I hope to be an airy manner.

He grimaces. “Poor fellow! I wish I could do more for you. I could give you something for your pain, but it would have to be mild and would most likely do no good.”

I nod in understanding and sneeze loudly.

“Bless you. I hope that you have not caught a cold, on top of everything else.”

If I have, it is my own fault and I tell him as much. “If I become unwell it will due to the many sleepless nights, missed meals and cold and dirty rooms in which I have stayed.”

“Hum, and quite probably the upset and overuse of cocaine that I have caused with my fit of temper as well.”

I sniff. “That was my fault.”

“According to you, everything is!” he shakes his head and rubs a hand across his eyes. “Let us just agree that we were both at fault, that we are both sorry and that, should such a dispute begin again between us, we shall discuss our differences like civilised adults as opposed to storming out without resolving the matter first.”

I nod my agreement. “Very wise.”

“And now you should rest,” the doctor advises me with a pat to my ankle. “Even if you cannot sleep, you should at least attempt to stay quiet, still and relaxed.”

That is easier said than done. I am feeling as restless as I am fatigued. All the same, my Boswell is near and I know that I am safe while I lower my guard. I could always rely on Watson.

#to return from death #fatigue and anguish #tw: cocaine #tw: drug usage #tw: realistic overdose symptoms #i did my research (sorry)#my stories #multipart #chapter ten #part ten #friendship #illness #vulnerability #classic Sherlock Holmes fan fiction

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mariequitecontrarie · 8 years

Note

Drabble #32, Rumbelle. ;)

Never AloneSummary: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”Rating: GA/N: Dark castle fluff for @bookwormchocaholic. I can’t seem to keep these to a “drabble” to save my life. Hope you enjoy my long-winded version.

ON AO3

“Tongue of lizard, heart of bluebird, foot of Belle…”Rumplestiltskin stopped short, his tongue tripping over the incantation and ruiningthe potion in the process.

“Hellfire and damnation!” Dismayed, he watched a boilingmass of greenish-grey goo spill over the edge of the cauldron and ooze throughhis fingers.

A simple chant cleaned up the mess, but the Hatter waswaiting for this potion and he still had to begin again. It was all her fault.

Rumplestiltskin flexed his stiff fingers. Belle’s disquiet overthe past several hours had paralyzed his body and brain. The sound of herpacing outside the barricaded door was an ominous drumbeat in his heart, herlow, square heels echoing on the stones. Even his old limp from the first ogre’swar, long since repaired by magic, throbbed in time to her labored sighs.

Aye, she had finally made up her mind to leave him. A dealwas a deal, and she had sworn forever, but he could no longer bear to keep herhere against her will. It was long past time to grant her freedom, send her offto see the world. As for him, he’d lived nigh two hundred years in abjectmisery, so what was a few millennia more?

“Belle!” he bellowed, releasing the wards on the laboratory.“Get it in here!”

“Yes, Rumplestiltskin?” Frowning, she slipped through theopen door. “I would have come in sooner, but the door has been locked all day.”

He treated her to a black scowl. It was the third time he’d botchedthe spell due to his carelessness, and he was down to his last bit of smokedeel roe. Dark circles wreathed Belle’s eyes and he almost dropped what remained.“What are you moping about?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks were wan and slightly sunken.

He snorted at the obvious lie, but his heart hiccupped,sharp and painful . Was she unwell?He steeled himself against a flood of concern. If she was, it was no longer hisaffair. Still, she was the lone ray of sunshine in his empty world. He wouldmiss her more than he could possibly say.

“If you truly want to know…” she began.

He shook a finger in her direction. “Hurry up then!”

“Because you did ask….”

“Aye, I did,” he snapped when she trailed off again, “and I’velived another two centuries waiting for you to answer.”

“Rumplestiltskin, would you please stop interrupting?” Annoise of exasperation slipped through her lips, and she stomped her small foot.

Ordinarily, her sass amused him, but this evening he wassnappish and wary. He scanned the skyline, wondering if she would leave tonightor at least wait until morning. Perhaps she had already packed her belongings.

“As you wish.” He winced, waiting for the killing blow.

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” She blewout a noisy breath at the hurried confession, sending wisps of hair flyingabout her face.

What?

Baffled, he stared at her flushed cheeks. Of all the wordshe had expected her to say, these were the very last. “Are you speaking fae,maid?”

Her brow furrowed, considering. “I don’t think so.”

He leaned forward to sniff her sweet breath, fighting theneed to close his eyes. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Only water and sweetened tea.” Her smile was tentative, andgrowing wider by the moment.

“You’ve ingested something foul,” he insisted. “A bite ofbad beef; a moldy pastry.”

“No.” She twisted her fingers together, still hovering inthe doorway. “I’ve been too nervous to eat.”

“Ah. Well.” He cast about for an explanation. “This, uh, feelingyou say you have…for how long have you been imagining it?”

“It’s not my imagination.” She stepped closer, laying softfingers on his hand. “And a while.”

“Hmmmph.” He shook his sleeve out of her grasp. “You don’tlook terrified.”

“Of you? Never.” She shook her head hard enough to make herauburn curls bounce.

“Then why did you say you were?”

He followed her sightline to a small family of mice dartingin and out of a hole in the tower wall. In the fading sunlight, their tinybodies cast ominous shapes across the stones. Finally she spoke. “I amfrightened, in a manner of speaking.”

“Ha!” He affected a triumphant pose. “I knew it.”

“Yes.” She leaned against his worktable and tugged on her workapron. “I’m afraid that you’ll laugh at me.”

Her lustrous blue eyes tugged at his heart, creating a dullache beneath his breastbone. “I should laugh,” he said hoarsely. “These womanlyfeelings you have for a monster are foolish indeed.”

“You certainly know how to ease the torment of an admissionof love, don’t you?” she asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of hermouth.

He carefully searched her face and tone for irony, butdarkness shadowed her skin now that the sun had disappeared beneath thehorizon. With a wave of his hand, he lit a dozen candelabras, bathing the room insoft light.

“Fine,” he huffed, deciding to humor her innocence.“Assuming you’re not concussed, what makes you think you love the Dark One?”

“I don’t love the Dark One. I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Same difference, dearie.”

“No, it’s not.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Andplease don’t talk to me that way.”

“What way?” He mimicked her voice in a high trill.

“As though I am a stranger you must posture for,” she scolded,a thread of humor in her tone. “Names have power and you know mine, so use it.”

A bittersweet craving washed through him. Belle. Darling, cheeky, wonderful Belle. “What can you know of love?”

“Well, I know I’m happy when you’re here, and sad whenyou’re away. I know I feel more at ease and at home here than I ever did at myfather’s estate. And,” she stammered, drawing her appreciative gaze down thelength of his body, “I know-I like to look at you in those tight leathersyou’re so fond of.”

“Ahem.” His cheeks grew hot, a mingling of embarrassment anda craving for something so long buried he barely recognized it. Sensible peoplerecoiled from his appearance, but not Belle. She had to be the only sentientbeing in the Enchanted Forest who admired him for anything more than what shecould gain from his power.

She shrugged. “It’s true. Besides, you wouldn’t wear suchform-hugging trousers if you didn’t want anyone to admire the view.”

“And if I laugh at your declaration, what then?” He lifted apotion, examining the sapphire liquid in the flickering candlelight. “Would youreconsider your foolishness?”

“My heart would be carved into slivers,” she whispered.

He nearly dropped the vial, undone by the nakedvulnerability in her gaze. As if such a shining and lovely innocent wouldsuffer any loss by being removed from his presence!

“People will say I bewitched you,” he warned. In this land,for a young woman to ignore her reputation was to her greatest peril. He baredhis teeth in a feral snarl. “Doesn’t that terrifyyou?” he asked, tossing her words back.

Her sniff was disdainful. “I care nothing about rumors andidle gossip.”

“Indeed?” His protests were weakening, the citadel aroundhis heart crumbling. He shelved the potion, then shuffled backwards until hiscalves bumped the chaise lounge. At a loss for words, he sank down on thecushion.

Belle sidled closer, stepping between his spread thighs. “Doyou know what does terrify me?”

Breathless, he shook his head as her gaze bored into his. Shebent down to caress his cheek, palming his jaw. “That you won’t love me inreturn.”

His eyes drifted closed and before he knew what washappening, her slight weight was resting in his lap. She settled her bottom on hislegs and twined her arms about his neck. She was soft and sweet, her light honeysucklefragrance enveloping him in safety and warmth.

“Belle, I—”

“Why did you lock the door on me?” she murmured. “Your teahas gone cold three times.”

Embarrassed by his childishness, he looked toward thewindows. “I’d convinced myself I didn’t want to hear anything you had to say.”

“And now?” She scooted up his thighs to nuzzle his neck,making his skin prickle.

He snorted, clinging to the dregs of his stubbornness. “Ifyou wanted to come inside so badly, why didn’t you knock?”

Her eyes danced with amusement. “You were hollering soloudly, you didn’t hear me call. My fists hurt from pounding on the door.” Shepresented her knuckles, which were mottled by black and blue marks.

“Oh.” Unthinking, he pressed her fingers to his mouth. Apurple sheen coated her skin as he healed the bruises and scrapes with hislips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then lay her head against hischest. His arms hung stiffly at his sides and she clasped first one wrist, thenthe other to draw his arms around her, arranging his limbs like a mannequin.“What did you think I was going to say?” she asked.

He splayed his fingers over her back, and closed his eyes.The relief of being hidden from her shrewd gaze made him bold. “I believed youwould request your freedom. It’s what you deserve, and despite our deal, Iwould never prevent you from forging your own destiny.”

The slender arms around his neck tightened. “If I went away,we would both be lonely.”

He laughed, low and mirthless. “You? No. Belle, you haveyour family, your friends, and your fiancé. And what of your plans to see theworld?”

“Can’t I see the world with you?”

“Why would you want that?” he asked dully, his palms stillstroking her back. “What can I possibly offer you?”

“Belonging.” She eased back on his thighs, her expressionthoughtful. “Have you never been in a place filled with people yet felt utterlyalone? All my life I’ve been surrounded by others—parents, servants, peers. Butthey didn’t know the real me…this odd, bookish girl…and so the ache ofloneliness remained. Here with you, for the first time someone understands andloves me for me, not because I fulfill some expectation by learning to run anestate or marrying a certain man.”

With a small groan, he pressed her close once more, anembrace of solidarity. For as long as he could remember, he’d believed he wasthe only person who felt alone in a crowd.

She lifted her face to his, a hint of fear flecking heririses. “You do love me, don’t you?”

“Aye.” He buried his nose in her tumble of curls, inhalingher essence. He loved her mind, her body, the way she thought, the things shesaid. He loved her so much it was a physical ache, a rawness in his spirit thatwould be satisfied with nothing but her.

“Rumple, I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Oh Belle,” he choked. Before his disbelieving eyes, she wasgathering up the pieces of a dream he’d thought was shattered. “Is this reallywhat you want?”

“Yes.”

Yes. There was aneternity of promise in that one small word. She needed him, just as he did her,and his heart exploded with a joy he hadn’t known since the birth of his son. Hecupped her cheeks with his hands, massaging her pulse point with his thumbs ashe lowered his mouth to hers, so close that only their mingled breaths laybetween them.

“Then I will never leave you alone again.”

###

Send me a pairing and I’ll write you a drabble

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumplestiltskin #belle french #dark castle rumbelle #mqc writes #marie doesn't know how to drabble #bookwormchocaholic

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twdgfanfiction · 8 years

Text

Chapter 25 - Escape

After breakfast, Lee was surprised when Ellie snatched him away from his way to the greenhouse, dragging him somewhere else instead before he could even say goodbye to his friends. Christa watched them leave, waving and with a smile on her face seeing the small teenager dragging the man away with no effort or hesitation at all, before she and Omid were forced to go to their jobs for the day, being herded by Luke as he gave an almost missable nod. Lee couldn't help but feel no one was actually ready for what was coming. At the base of the stairs, Lee awkwardly stood there, eyes darting over to the door leading to Jack's office.

Ellie continued to talk to him, her tone tired and yet frightened. She looked around a few times as she was slowly making her way to the doctor's office, like she was afraid someone could be watching, fidgeting with her fingers. She also spoke very fast, Lee barely understanding what she was saying. "Hey, I haven't been able to sleep much last night. How 'bout you?"

"As well as you can on shelves." He replied dryly, though his face was masked in sympathy for the obviously frantic girl. Despite the abrupt start to his day, he could see that something was eating away at her, and recalled her brother, his tone soft as he asked. "Is Alex alright?"

She didn't reply, but her face fell even more as bagged eyes stared downwards at the floor, her hand rubbing her arm whilst Lee waited for an answer. Staring down at her, he could tell from her slumped shoulders and worn face that she was exhausted. Eventually, her voice quiet, she muttered. "He's still in Jack's office. For now, he's stable but…"

She took a deep breath. "Lee, his ribs are fractured and he needs rest! Bill said he can't give him long enough, we're down so many people, and I'm scared that eventually, he's gonna decide that there's no hope for him..." Her voice cracked as she covered her mouth with one hand, trying to contain the sobs. "I can't lose him…"

Taking a step closer, he placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling it shaking under his scarred palm. With a frown, he watched as she looked up to match his gaze. He knew it was too much, he couldn't risk the plan failing because they had too many people, but he also couldn't just leave the kid to die. He spoke urgently. "If needed to, can your brother move?"

"What?" she asked, confused by the sudden question, and quickly answered when Lee's gaze narrowed. "Yeah, he can move with help, but it'll be painful for him. Jack said that if his ribs are injured any more, they'll break and can puncture his internal organs."

"Alright then, listen to me." Lee paused, glancing around to see if there was anyone around that might eavesdrop on their conversation, and when there was no one around, did he turn back to continue what he was explaining. "My group, we're leaving. We ain't staying for that fucker to eventually kill us."

"You're leaving? When!?" she whispered, surprised that the group had already made a plan despite spending a few days in the compound. Yet again, the place was so terrible that it wouldn't have surprised anyone to find that people were escaping.

"Tonight. Are you able to get Alex and meet up with us?" he asked, continuing to walk to the doctor's office with her. After a few moments of thought, she nodded silently, and Lee smiled. "Good. We're being sprung from the Pen when lights go out. Grab Alex and meet us in the loading bay, that's where we'll be smuggling our group out with one of the vans."

"Loading bay. Alright." She repeated, glancing nervously at the door they reached. Stopping, she placed her hand on the worn wood, glancing nervously at Lee as he nodded silently, watching as she took a deep breath and opened the door, walking inside with him right behind her. A quiet thump was all that the door made when it shut, and instead the pitiful moans of the injured and unwell carried through the air. Looking around as they passed through the doctor's office to the patients room, he spotted Jack writing on loose pieces of papers on a small table, Sarah sitting on one of the stretchers with a pale look on her face, a thermometer in her mouth.

Glancing up, he noticed Ellie and Lee standing there, his voice hoarse as he pointed out. "You guys realise that I'm busy? If you came here for Alex, he's over there, but I ask that you keep quiet whilst I'm working."

"Will do." Ellie obeyed, walking over to her brother whilst Lee moved towards Sarah instead. The young teen was pale, with sweat rolling down the side of her face, and as he got closer he noticed that her signature red glasses were gone, glancing around to see them sitting on a metal tray beside her. The illness must have been difficult for her, her face just staring straight ahead without giving any sort of glance or movement to Lee, not even the small wave she always gave him. Worried, his gaze moved from the sick girl to the doctor writing words down.

"How she doing, doc?" he asked Jack, watching as the doctor paused in his inane scribbling, and looked up from behind his glasses.

Frowning, he dropped the pen on the table, the object rolling slightly before coming to a complete stop, before he stood up, walking closer to Lee, and began to explain. "It's nothing serious, thankfully, but Sarah has developed flu symptoms and some signs of a chest infection, most likely from the incoming winter and the fact that she's sleeping practically outside."

"So what are we gonna do?"

"I gave her some antibiotics to fight the infection, but we don't have enough for a complete course. Soon, she gonna have to fight it on her own, but as she's quite fit otherwise, it shouldn't kill her." Jack brushed off, though his tone suggested he felt terrible for the teen's predicament. "I asked Bill that she be temporarily removed from the Pen during her recovery, to give her a better chance, and he gave the all clear."

"I don't want her to be somewhere with people she doesn't know." Lee muttered with a frown, watching as Jack removed the thermometer from Sarah's mouth, reading the numbers and then recording it on his papers. Placing the instrument on a metal trolley, he turned his attention back to Lee, his face pulled in a grim look, as he signed Lee to follow him towards the back of his office, away from the patients.

"Well, first, you're not her father to have a say in this matter."He pointed out, sitting on his desk. "Second, If Sarah stays in that place, chances are that she'll get worse, and that's a death sentence here. She's staying here for the night, then we'll decide in the morning if she needs to stay longer or be temporarily moved into a new room."

With that, he turned his attention to the paperwork on his desk. His voice softer as he asked. "I suggest you go to work," he raised his voice. "And yes, Ellie, you too."

The last part of his suggestion was spoken louder, directed to the girl as she moved away from her brother, a cold glare given to the doctor as she snapped. "Alright. God help any of your loved ones if they get hurt, they'd have to deal with your fucking bedside manners."

"They might have, if I had any loved ones left. Go on now, before you get all of us in trouble." Lee wanted to protest, as the thought of Sarah slowly getting worse from both fear and the infection spurred something within him, this protectiveness that he hadn't felt since Clementine, knowing that the reason she was ill was because of being forced to live practically outside, in the middle of winter, he couldn't help but blame himself. Carver may have forced them, but Lee could have asked, if not outright beg, for Sarah to be moved. She was only a child, and he made a promise to look after her. Seeing her health deteriorate, he couldn't stop the fears of losing her too, and the failure of protecting another child proved too much for him.

However, Ellie pulled his sleeve, nearly dragging him out of the room again. "Alex doesn't look good. The drugs given must have helped him with the pain, but I don't think I can even move him without setting Jack off."

"I can help. I'll meet up with you after we get sprung, and we'll move him together, steal one of the gurneys if we have to." He offered, unwilling to abandon Ellie in the community after giving her hope for Alex.

"You know, you ain't a bad guy, Lee. I kinda wish things were different." She wished, folding her arms as she added. "You remind me of my dad."

"I feel like I'm everyone's dad." That made them both laugh, and Lee felt somewhat happier actually joking with someone. It helped stem the twisting in his stomach. However, they couldn't stand there forever, and Ellie knew this as she grumbled. "We gotta get to work. We didn't finish cleaning the paddock yesterday, and no doubt it's worse today, so we better get crackin'."

The two fell silent after that, the younger of the duo nodding for him to follow her to the paddock to start their work. Looking back at the door, he couldn't stop the worry gnawing at him, and could only quietly hope that Sarah would get through this. Whilst he was looking, he heard Elie quietly mutter to him.

"God, I hope this plan works."

It was around midday when Dwight came downstairs, standing by the door as he explained to Lee that he was working inventory with Laurel until dinner time, before the duo bid farewell to Ellie. Going back in, they started to make their way, he noticed that Dwight was more anxious than usual, and couldn't help but feel like something happened to Kristina. It was the only thing that would explain the guard's behaviour. Slowly, and with caution, he asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah… Listen, Lee, that plan you were talking about the other day. Is it still going down?" So that's what was causing his behaviour, Lee thought, and wondered if Dwight had a change of heart over it.

After a few seconds of pause, he nodded. "It's happening tonight. You changed your mind on it?"

"Kristina was actually the one to suggest it. Turns out, nearly dying twice in this place can really sour your will to stay." He tried to joke, but it fell flat as his face showed what he was really feeling. Fear, worry, and he could see some anger at what this community had done to not only him, but the woman he loved. Whilst the two were walking, nearly at the flight of stairs leading up to the first floor, he decided to continue. "I want in."

"You sure, man?" Lee asked, getting slightly worried with the number of people that wanted to leave. "With my group, Ellie and her brother, and now you and Kristina… The group is reaching eleven people."

"It's not gonna be easy, I'll give you that, but Kristina and I can't escape on our own. I can run when I'm on my scouting missions, but she's stuck here all the time." He explained, rubbing his neck with his free hand, his rifle perched on his shoulder for support. The two started walking up the stairs, taking it slow to give them more time to talk.

"We'll be using one of the vans to smuggle people out. I guess, if you guys are serious, a few more won't hurt." Lee conceded, knowing that it was him that told Dwight of the plan. "If you can, meet my group in the loading bay after lights off."

"Lights off, got it." He nodded, and turned to the armoury opposite of the restaurant, standing at the top of the stairs whilst Lee finished walking up them. Silently, he carried on walking to the large shop, the shutters closed with the lock keeping it that way, and no Laurel in sight. Confused, he glanced around to try and spot the woman, and when he couldn't see her anywhere, he grumbled to himself. "Great."

"Is there a problem?" Lee asked, watching the guard as he leaned against the shutters, the former electing to just stand there and watch.

"Laurel was supposed to be here, and I can't just let you in because she's the only one with the key to the shutters. Besides, she'd shiv me if I mess up her order of stuff." Dwight explained, holding his weapon in both hands lazily, and just as those words left his mouth, his gaze shifted to something behind Lee, his voice sharp as he chided. "I thought you were meant to stay in the armoury during your shifts. What are you doing leaving it?"

"If you must know, I was with Kate, looking after her for Alicia. Only when she puked all over my files, I had to give her to Jack." A new voice chided, a Canadian accent laced in it. Turning around, Lee spotted a tall woman walking towards them, her tanned face frowning deeply as she stared at Dwight. "Is this the guy helping me for the afternoon?"

"That's Lee." He confirmed, standing up properly as he muttered to Lee. "See you later."

"See you." After that, Dwight walked off from the two, and Lee was left with Laurel as she moved to the shutters, key in hand. Unlocking the shutters, she pushed them up, giving it a extra push when they got jammed halfway, before turning back to her new help.

"'Cause Kate ruined my files, we're gonna have to take inventory of everything in here and write it down." Despite her hostile tone towards the idea that her files were ruined, she was otherwise a very professional lady, and she adopted a softer tone when she added. "Poor kid. You can never stay mad at her for long, I think it's her eyes. She definitely has her mother's."

Quickly, Laurel returned to her professional state and opened the door leading into storage, Lee quickly following after her. He was surprised with all the supplies that were there; food, water, weapons and even clothes, his mind going back to the clothes given to Christa. Walking in further, he looked at all the containers, and noticed that everything were in places according to what they were, the containers holding the clothes were in one side of the room, whilst weapons were stored in tall metal lockers that had a sign on them reading 'weapons and ammo'. It was all quite impressive.

Whilst he was looking around, he heard Laurel start explaining. "We're gonna start on weapons, then move around the room. You say what we have and I'll write it down. Maybe I can find new binders, ones that don't stink of sick."

As she continued mumbling to herself about binders, Lee nodded and moved over to the lockers to start inventory count, only noticing that the lockers were locked as well. Turning back around, he saw that Laurel was watching him, a composed look on her face as she pointed out. "The lockers have codes on them, just so our weapons and ammo are protected. Here's all the codes."

Taking a scrap of paper, he looked at them and noticed that each individual locker had a different code. "Well, you gotta give points for thinking of everything."

Starting with the one closest, he dialed in the code and opened it, noticing the pistols and knives first. That was what Lilly was talking about. Glancing behind his shoulder, he saw that Laurel was busy with something, her back turned to him, and so he quickly slipped some ammo into his inside pocket, and a long knife under his jacket, positioning the knife in his sleeve under his armpit, whilst the pistol was shoved in his pocket. When taking out the heavy weapon, he was careful not to make any loud noises, not wanting Laurel to find out what he was doing.

"Well?" she asked, Lee turning his head to see her finally looking at him, seemingly unaware that he had weapons hidden on his person. "Are you gonna start labelling stuff off or just kneel there?"

"Sorry, I was just distracted. Lack of sleep." He lied, watching as she nodded.

"I suppose those beds aren't the greatest, but just try to concentrate. We gotta get this stuff counted and written down, and hopefully these binders won't get retched on…" she explained, before looking down at her paper and back up at Lee, waiting for him to start listening stuff off. Turning back into the locker, he glanced at all the weapons that would have been handy.

He couldn't take anymore without rousing suspicion, and so he carried on taking inventory, telling Laurel what was in there as she wrote it down.

They continued this through all the lockers, and then went on to write down the rest of the supplies, Lee not daring to take anything else. He wanted to. The supplies kept there would help his group immensely when they were out in the world again, but it would be better for their escape if he only took what was necessary. He watched as light began to fade from the windows, as nightfall was coming, and soon after he wondered when dinner would be, a knock on the door caught both of their attention. Quickly, Laurel opened the door and, noticing how dark it was getting, asked the guard. "Is that really the time?"

"Yep, I'm here to make sure Lee goes to the restaurant." He quickly recognized Joel's voice, and appeared at the door, noticing the guard turn his gaze to him. "Come on, man, people are already eating."

Nodding, he walked out of the storage, leaving Laurel to finish up, and when he was about to ask her, Joel stopped him. "I wouldn't waste your breath. Laurel's a serious workaholic, and I'm pretty sure she'll melt if she leaves something unfinished."

"I got that from working with her." Lee agreed, before turning his thoughts to food. He was starving, and after talking with Dwight and Ellie, his appetite was starting to make a comeback. Hopefully, his friends were faring just as well as he was, especially Sarah. His mind started to focus on her, and he worried about the plan if she was taken out of the Pen tonight.

His friends were already in the restaurant, and he noted that he was always the last one in, smiling lightly when he noticed that Sarah was sitting with them. Relieved, he quickly moved over to them, dragging his chair out whilst glancing at the teen, his voice concerned as he asked. "I thought you would have been in the doctor's office, how come you're here?"

"I told Jack that I wanted to be with you guys." Sarah explained, rubbing her red nose and sniffed. The antibiotics seemed to have helped her coughing, but she still looked very unwell, her face pale and eyes dulled. She seemed nervous, glancing around, and Lee had to put his hand on her shoulder, a knowing look on his face helping calm her nerves. She wasn't used to this, and he wondered if Carlos even told her they were leaving last time.

He felt his hunger at full blow when Gabriel brought some plates to them, pulling him out of his thoughts. Placing them down, his mouth watered at the sight of cooked vegetables and canned meat, eating away with the rest of the group. When they were done, wanting to get to the Pen as soon as possible, they waited for the guards on duty to take them back. Whilst they were waiting, Lee decided to tell the group about Jack's plan on moving Sarah. "There's something going on that might put a dent in our plan."

"What is it?" Christa asked, shoving her plate to one side as she stared at him with a concerned look.

"Jack's planning on moving Sarah out of the Pen. Tomorrow." That set Sarah off, her face falling as the thought of being separated from her friends got to her.

Shaking her head, she tried to keep her voice low as she begged. "Please, don't let them take me. I want to stay with you guys."

"If it wasn't for the plan, I woulda been happy that she was taken out of that place, but this is bad. Do we know where he's gonna take her?" Walter asked, worried for the panicking teen.

"No, she's staying in the infirmary for tonight, and we can't let it happen. If Sarah gets taken, then the plan gets fucked. " Lee explained, determined to not have Sarah taken from him. It wasn't just the plan, it was the idea itself of being apart from her that concerned him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to think what they could do.

"Wait…" Sarah suddenly said, getting the group's attention. Her voice not louder than a whisper as she explained. "If I have to stay tonight… I could steal the medicine! Jack would be asleep so he won't even notice-"

"Then you sneak out and meet us in the loading bay." Nick continued with a smile on his face. "That's a great idea, kid."

Sarah smiled at the compliment, visibly ecstatic with being useful to the group, after her doubts to her own worth. Glancing at Lee, her smile widened, and the two shared a smile. It wasn't long before someone came for them, a hand on his shoulder catching Lee's attention as he turned around, seeing Dwight standing there with a worried look on his face. Quietly, he addressed him and the group. "We gotta go down to the Pen."

"Finally. The sooner we get there, the better." Christa muttered, watching as Sarah stood up with them. With everyone up, Lee looked around as they were being herded out of the restaurant, watching as the other survivors around them started to get ready to retire for the night. He spotted Alicia in the crowd, an asleep Kate in her arms, and couldn't help but give her a smile, it wavering when she could only respond with a wary stare. Confused, he couldn't investigate further as the group exited the closing restaurant, walking through the dark open area towards the flight of stairs leading to the ground floor.

Sarah grabbed hold of Lee's jacket, her grip tight, and he glanced down to see that her confidence was slipping. She was terrified. Covering her hand with his own, they quietly followed at the back of the group. Looking ahead, his voice grumbled lowly, concern in his tone as he asked her. "How you holding up, Sarah?"

"I'm fine…" she lied, not meeting his gaze whilst her hand continued to grip tightly on the thick leather. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she glanced up at the door leading back to Jack's office, before looking back up at Lee with a worried look. Slowly, she released her grip on his jacket, and started to walk over to the door as she softly spoke.

"I'll wait until Jack falls asleep, and then I'll sneak out with the medicine." She repeated.

"Be careful." Lee replied, feeling his stomach knot as the group said their goodbyes to the teen girl, before walking to the shutters leading into the Pen. Dwight paused, opening the shutters, before he watched the group walking in. When Lee was about to follow after his friends, he heard the guard mutter to him.

"I'll grab Kristina and meet you guys after lights out. You guys alright getting outta here?" he asked, glancing into the Pen.

"Yeah, Lilly and Luke are keeping guard for tonight." He revealed, walking into the Pen with a final word. "Be ready."

"Will do. See you later, Lee." With that, the shutters were closed, and the group were left alone. Turning around, Lee couldn't stop the hope that was lifting his spirits, his thoughts thinking about the freedom for him, and his friends. He wondered where they would go. Savannah was overrun, along with Georgia and Macon. South Carolina was most likely Carver's turf, so they would have to leave the state to get out of his grip. Thinking about it, he remembered Sofia's words when she first met him.

Up north. The walkers would be slow, and they'd be out of Carver's reach. With a faint smile, he briskly walked over to the group that were sitting down, and began voicing his ideas, watching Christa remembering those exact words Sofia told them as he explained. "When we get outta here, we gotta leave the state. Be sure that Carver and his men can't follow us. I say we head north."

"North? We'll freeze our asses off up there!" Nick snapped, already holding his arms as a rogue wind blew into the exposed Pen.

"So will the walkers." Christa added, turning to Nick with a knowing look, and glanced around the group as she took her turn explaining. "It's what Lee, Omid and I were planning on doing with that girl we met. Go up north to get a better chance against the walkers."

"What about south? Texas, Florida, Georgia?" Walter spoke up, concerned about the cold. "Winter is nearly here. It must be around December, and we'll surely freeze to death before we reach any shelter."

"We came from Georgia, it's overrun. Savannah, Atlanta, all of it." Christa rejected, frowning as she added. "San Francisco, all around that… it's gone too."

"We don't have to go all the way to Canada, just far enough to be out of Carver's reach. Once we're safe, we can see how it goes, and if it doesn't work out then we move down south." Lee compromised.

The group agreed on it, Nick nodding as he nervously glanced at the door, awaiting when it would open again and they would be able to leave. Lee shared his nervousness, feeling his stomach tie itself in knots, but he kept strong, and with the rest of the group; he waited. It took a while, but soon they saw that the lights in the pen were switched off, leaving them with only the light from the fire to see. During this time, Lee had sat down near Omid and Christa, watching everyone glance at each other, no one daring to say anything. The darkness spread, save for the spotlights in the distance, the gate barely being seen from the thick planks of wood nailed to the fences.

It wasn't until the lights were off for a while before a low scraping sound could be heard, Lee glancing to see the shutters opening slowly, as to not awaken anyone. Behind it was Lilly, her arm upwards to keep the shutters from slamming shut, and she waved with her other arm to signal for the group to come over. Quickly, they sprung to their feet and moved stealthily over to her. Whilst the rest of the group moved out, Lee glanced around, only spotting her, and made his thoughts known when he couldn't see someone. "Where's Luke?"

"He was taken to Carver's office for a debriefing. He's gonna be my new partner for scouting, considering Mike was killed." She explained, her lips pulled in a thin frown as she added. "He slipped me a note. He's gonna meet us in the loading bay after lights out, when he manages to slip his roommates."

"I don't like that. What if Carver's done something to him?" he pointed out, feeling the worry gnaw at him for the younger man.

"Don't worry. I don't think Carver suspects a thing, he's just been debriefing a lot of the scouts because they're gonna be sent out these next few days. That's why I wanna get outta here before then." Lilly tried to console.

Lee just nodded, unsure whether to take her words at face value or not, but continued on for his group's sake. With that, Lilly slipped the shutters back down, and moved to the front of the group as she whispered. "We're gonna go as fast as we can, but we gotta be careful too. We don't wanna get the attraction of the guards. Just follow me and keep quiet."

With that, she led the group along the hallway that led towards Jack's office and the loading bay, moving as quietly as she can. The group followed her; Omid and Christa at the front, the couple holding onto each other to make sure they were never separated. Nick was behind them, his body tense and frightened, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation, whilst Walter just shared a worried look with Lee. Feeling the knife moving in the armpit of his jacket, he slipped his hand in and pulled out the weapon, handing it to Walter with a quiet. "If something goes wrong, you need to defend yourself."

"I don't know… but I'll try." Walter mumbled, taking the knife awkwardly and kept it tightly in his hand. Removing the pistol from his jacket pocket, Lee tightened his hands around it, feeling the sickening safety that holding the weapon gave him. The world was truly fucked if holding a gun was the safest he felt in a while.

Suddenly, Lilly pressed herself against the wall of the stairs, the group copying her as they straight upwards, following her line of sight. Up above, there was a lone light shining downwards, the source belonging to one of the guard's forehead torch. Lee felt his heart stop, watching the light move closer and closer to him at the end of the line, his foot moving in more to prevent it from being spotted. Watching the beam stop, the group was silent, all of them stiffened, and they could only watch as the light moved away from them again; the guard moving on.

Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, he moved away from the wall with the rest of the group. Quietly, he heard Omid whisper. "We better move. I don't want to stop and pretend to ask for directions if we're caught."

"Omid." The hiss from his girlfriend quietened him, and they continued moving along the hallway until they reached the door leading to Jack's office. The sound of it opening made them all jumped, and Lee didn't know that he raised his gun until he saw it pointing at the person at the door. A quiet gasp made him lower it, knowing that it didn't belong to Jack, and he was pleased to see Sarah standing with the door open, her hand behind her pulling something.

Confused, he immediately recognized another face appearing at the door, seeing Ellie standing at the other end of a gurney that had her asleep brother on a finger on her lips, he frowned further as he heard Lilly quietly scold. "Jesus fucking Christ. You nearly gave us a heart attack!"

"Sorry! We had to get Alex outta there, and we had to wait for Jack to go to sleep." Sarah explained, glancing behind her. He noticed that she subtly messed with a bag that was tied to the gurney, a bottle peeking out through a small opening before being shoved back in, she quickly closed the bag and carried on. That was the medicine, he was thankful, knowing that she lifted more than he had thought. She added. "He's worked himself so hard lately that he sleeps through anything during the night."

"Great, let's get outta here." Nick spoke up, glancing around to see if there was any guards. Sarah nodded, opening the door so that they could push the gurney out, Lee replacing her at front as he pulled with Ellie, moving Alex out of the office. With him in the hall, they continued to move towards the loading bay nearby. Glancing behind him, he saw that the boy was incoherent, laying there whilst mumbling softly under his breath. He had no idea what pain Alex was in, nor what drugs was being pumped around his system, but the noises were not working to their advantages.

Christa knew this as she snapped. "His mumbling is gonna get us caught!"

"Leave him alone." Ellie warned, her voice a low snarl. "He's on morphine. He doesn't even know what is happening right now."

"Come on, guys." Omid tried to cease the fighting, glancing between the two as they reached the large doors leading into the loading bay. Lilly raised a hand, stopping everyone behind her, and silently gestured for them to wait whilst she glanced inside. Opening it, her head peered in for a few moments as she looked around, before she pulled out again and whispered. "It's clear. Dwight and Kristina are waiting inside."

Nodding, the group quickly moved in, Lee and Ellie pushing Alex in when he noticed a light coming at the end of the hallway, shining against the wall. A guard was coming. Swearing to himself, he pulled harsh on the gurney, tugging it in and closing the door behind Ellie before they were spotted. For a moment, he sighed, and then turned to see Lilly keeping watch, moving briskly to her as he warned. "We got guards coming this way. We gotta get people loaded and hurry the fuck up."

"Help everyone get in the back, and I'll keep watch. If Luke doesn't get here by the time we've loaded, we gotta go." She pointed out.

Nick's voice reached them as he hissed at them. "What, you're just gonna abandon him here?!"

"I don't want to, believe me I don't, but we gotta think about the good of the group, Nick. Soon, guards are gonna notice that I'm not at my post, and that you guys aren't in the Pen." She explained, her voice quiet to avoid bringing attention. "We gotta be gone by then!"

"I don't believe this. We can't leave him here!" Nick countered, squaring up to the guard. "When Carver sees we're gone, he'll put two and two together. Luke is in danger if he's left here!"

"So what, we risk the group being punished for one guy!?" She snapped.

"Both of you need to shut up, or we'll be caught for sure!" Lee scolded, spotting Dwight loading Kristina and Sarah into the truck whilst Walter was helping Ellie loading the gurney that was holding Alex. "I say we wait as long as we can, not abandon our people, but if it comes down to it… we can't risk everyone."

"You held a grudge against Lilly for abandoning your old group, and what, now you're all for it!?" Nick revealed.

Lee's face fell, and his barely controlled anger bubbled to the surface as he coldly warned. "Watch it, boy, or you'll say something you'll regret."

"Look, everyone's nearly loaded up. I'm gonna open the gate, and then we can decide what we're gonna do." Lilly sighed, moving away to Dwight as she tossed the van keys she swiped. "Dwight, you're up front with me. If something goes wrong, I want you to drive and don't stop."

"Alright." He seemed unnerved with the thought, but he knew that the group overall mattered more. Lee watched as she moved towards the control panel he spotted the first time he came to the loading bay, slipping a key from her pocket and unlocking the panel covering the button that opened the shutters. Slowly, they started to move upwards, and the guard took a step back as she watched them, moving back towards the two when the shutters reached halfway.

"Let's pack up. Lee, Nick, get in the back with the rest of the group. Stay quiet, and we should be fine." She explained.

"What about Luke?" Nick repeated himself, crossing his arms with an angered look on his face. "We can't just up and leave him."

"Nick, please, we'll wait as long as we can but if he doesn't come, there's nothing I can do. I mean, I can't exactly go out and look for him." Lilly pointed out, before pointing to the van with her thumb and moved to the front cab. Lee glanced at Nick, seeing him dejected at the thought of abandoning his friend, and patted his shoulder as the duo moved to the open back of the van. Watching his friend jump up first, Lee spun around when he heard talking going on from behind the door, his heart pounding as he glanced around the van, seeing that the shutters were open. Jumping in, he shut the door down, hiding his group at the back of the vehicle as they all quieted down.

Listening, he waited for any sound that would give away the people's position, but all he was greeted with was silence. Calming down slightly, he turned around to see that Kristina had a flashlight with her, it on to illuminate the inside of the van. Everyone looked terrified, Ellie leaning against the wall as she kept the gurney still, Alex mumbling quietly. Eventually, Christa asked him. "You hear anyone?"

"I thought I did, but it might have just been my nerves. It's getting too close now, we need to go." Lee shook his head, noticing Nick's saddened face whilst Sarah appeared distraught, knowing that the group were gonna abandon Luke.

"We can't! Please, Lee, we have to wait for him!" she begged, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. We gotta do what's right for the group." She appeared heartbroken at the truth, lowering her head as Lee walked towards the wall connecting the back to the cab, knocking on it to signal Lilly that it was time to go. Slowly, the engine fired up, and they knew that the noise would bring the community down on them, feeling the lurch of the van moving as they began driving. The hum of the vehicle did little to calm his nerves, not until they were out of the compound, and so Lee remained standing, glancing around the group to see that they were tired, yet frightened.

Omid grabbed Christa's hand, keeping tight hold in an attempt to calm her down, and all she could offer him was a half-smile, knowing the danger they were in. Meanwhile, Nick was just sitting there, Sarah under his arm as the two remained still, not even sparing Lee a glance as he felt guilt rip at him. He didn't want to leave Luke behind, he really didn't, but it was getting too close to them getting caught for him and Lilly to risk being found out. He wondered what would happen to the man, but shook his mind of the thoughts as they continued to wait. Kristina wrapped her arms around her legs, her chin resting on her knees as she no doubt needed Dwight to comfort her.

"How you doing, Kristina?" Lee asked, staring down at her.

"My leg burns like shit, but I'm alive otherwise. I just hope this plan works." She confessed, her hand caressing her fake leg as she added. "You really think it was too late for Luke?"

"Yeah. We can't risk the group like this, but I did wish we had more time." He sighed, noticing Nick frowning deeply at that. Ignoring him, he steadied himself as the van hit a bump in the road, holding a hand out to control the bouncing gurney, noticing Alex wincing in pain.

"When we get outta here, where are we gonna go?" Ellie asked, staring down at her brother with worry. "He's just gonna get worse without rest."

"We'll go north, outta South Carolina, and hopefully Carver can't get us." Lee explained.

Ellie seemed unsure with that plan, knowing the weather up north, but she just nodded instead. "It's as good of a plan as any. As long as we stick together, we should be fine."

"We should stop in towns on the way, scrounge any supplies we can find." Christa suggested.

"You ain't gonna find much in the towns nearby," Kristina spoke up, turning her head to the pregnant woman. "Bill scavenged all that could be useful when he first came to power, and he's left nothing. We should keep driving until we reach the rural villages, see if we can find stuff there."

"We'll have to find something soon, otherwise we'll starve." Nick snapped, glaring at the floor whilst Sarah watched the conversation, visibly worried for the welfare of the group.

"We'll figure something out." Lee butted in, trying to calm everyone down. "The main thing is that we're out of this place, we should be near the gates no-"

A loud bang rang from outside, and the group were thrown against the wall as the van screeched horribly, skidding around as Dwight and Lilly could be heard yelling. Lee's head connected with the solid wall, his ears ringing as his body was at the mercy of the forces, the sound of Sarah screaming and Nick trying to protect her from the gurney that was wildly out of control. The flashlight was thrown from Kristina's hand, smashing against the wall and shattering, leaving them tumbling in the pitch darkness whilst the van kept spinning wildly out of control.

"Omid!" He heard Christa yell, unable to see what was happening from the lack of light. He feared for their safety. From the cab, he could hear Lilly yelling something loudly, but his ears were deafened, almost like they were stuffed with cotton, and he couldn't understand what was being said. Quickly, it stopped, and the whole group laid there on the floor, stunned.

"Is-Is everybody okay!?" He heard Walter say, seeing the older man supporting himself on the wall.

"No, Sarah..." Nick replied, and it suddenly felt as if his body was disconnected to his mind, not being able to hear anything else, his arms laying there uselessly as he finally heard Sarah crying softly, pulling him back to reality, Nick muttering to her quietly. "It's okay, it's okay. I'll try to stop the bleeding."

She was hurt. That thought made the strength return to Lee's limbs, forcing him to move slowly as he looked around, unable to see due to the absence of the flashlight. Groans came from the group, Ellie yelling in pain as she pushed what felt like the gurney against Lee, the wheels poking into him as he moved around it. Shouting could be heard from outside, and the group froze when someone could be heard from outside the door, light flooding in suddenly and illuminating the crash scene. Wincing, he covered his eyes in pain, glancing around to see his group in shambles.

Omid and Christa were terrified of what happened, their faces looking outside with the pregnant woman stiffening. Ellie was clutching her side, rage in her eyes as her brother laid on the floor beside her, now fully awake, the sound of his loud groaning the only sound they would make besides Sarah's pained whimpers. Turning his head to look beside him, Lee couldn't stop the shock at the sight of Sarah's face bleeding, a shard of glass embedded into her right eyebrow, her eyes wincing as Nick managed to finally pull the final shard from her face. The sound of fabric ripping could be heard as the survivor pulled his sleeve, shredding the fabric to halfway up his lower arm, and pressed the scrap to her bleeding forehead.

"Get out, and don't make any sudden moves!" The person who opened the door, quickly recognized to be Tess, her gun pointing at the frightened survivors. With their hands up, they started slowly shuffling out, all of them being watched by the approaching guards. Lee felt his heart pounding wildly, the sound of blood loud in his ears, and he could only look around for Lilly and Dwight, unable to find either of them.

"Line up, Bill's gonna be out in a minute." Another guard ordered, and watched as the group had no choice but to comply. Glancing behind him, Lee spotted the shredded tires first, the wrecked rubber lying across the pavement along with shards of glass, and the van itself collided side first into the gates, forcing them open slightly. Some of the guards moved towards the cab whilst the others kept watch. Opening the door, his face fell as they reached in and dragged someone out, the low groans coming from the body. His heart stopped, and he could only stare at the bloodied face of Lilly, her eyes squinted as she tried to stay awake long enough to know what was going on.

"We found one!" Joel called, his voice somewhat relieved as he lifted Lilly's arm over his shoulders, carrying her over to the rest of the group whilst his partner glanced back into the cab, pulling out her rifle, a feminine voice yelling. "We got her weapon, Dwight's too!"

"Where's Dwight?" Kristina asked, looking around for her boyfriend as her eyes followed the trail of glass and blood, before she just broke down. A pained wail came as she cried out. "No! No, Dwight!"

Following her line of sight, Lee gasped quietly at the sight of Dwight's body smeared across the pavement, his blood trailing behind him in a long line before pooling underneath his corpse. He laid face-down, his head covered in blood, the red liquid staining his clothes. Staring at it, unable to think clearly, Lee didn't see Kristina attempt to move to her boyfriend's body, being stopped by the guards as she shook her head. "Please, please, he needs me! Please, help him! Dwight! Dwight, can you hear me?!"

"His head's completely bashed in, he ain't gonna hear you." Tess scolded, unsympathetic as Kristina gave up, falling to her knees as Lee kneeled beside her, glaring at the female guard whilst the grieving widow just sobbed to herself. Walter watched this, moving towards Kristina to console her too, whilst Tess glanced behind them, a smirk on her face as she chuckled. "The boss is here."

Lee's blood ran cold, his eyes moving from Kristina to the approaching Carver, his frame towering over the three. Glancing around, he saw the group freeze up like a deer in headlights, none of them knowing what would happen, his eyes falling on Omid and Christa's hands intertwined with each other's. Despite his shorter stature, the former moved further in front of his girlfriend protectively, staring at Carver as the leader stopped short of his wall of guards, glaring around as he watched Ellie and Alex on the floor, the former staring up defiantly at him. After only a few moments of nerve-wracking silence, his voice echoed coldly as he demanded. "Where do you people think you're going?"

No one answered his question, instead just watching in fear. Lee felt Sarah grab hold of his jacket, shuffling closer to protect her from their leader's wrath, and watched helplessly as Lilly pushed herself off Joel, ignoring his attempts to help her. Limping forward slightly, her voice was pained as she gasped. "B-Bill, I-"

She was silenced by Bill raising his hand, ignoring her pleas as he continued. "I gave you people a home, food in your bellies, and safety behind these walls. No longer having to look over your back for walkers, or worse, and this is how you repay me? By causing disturbance amongst my people, by insulting my hospitality, by stealing!? Where is the medicine?"

Sarah crouched lower at the question. Lee noticed this, his grip tightening even more on her ski jacket whilst she clung to him, his eyes quickly flashing down at her before settling back on Carver. After it became apparent no one was going to spill, Carver quickly lost his cool as he shouted. "Where the FUCK is the medicine!?"

Once again, no one spoke, unwilling to rat their friends out. Knowing this, Bill ran a hand over his face, calming himself down as he coldly explained. "Fine, then. If none of you will talk, we'll have to get answers the hard way."

With that, the guards moved from in front of him, allowing the group to see another survivor dragging a body towards them. Lee squinted in confusion for a moment, watching as the body was thrown to the ground, their face down on the ground, before their hair was gripped painfully and wrenched upwards, exposing them to the group. Nick gasped, moving forward as Tess held her gun out, his voice distressed as he called out. "Luke!"

His face was beaten badly, his lip split with blood dried in his stubble and shirt, and cuts and bruises littering his exposed skin. With his hands tied behind his back, the young man was thrown back on the floor, a foot landing on his back as Carver explained, his voice gravelly. "This isn't how we do things here at Howe's. You follow the rules, earn your place, and you live an alright life than you would out there. But you people decided you didn't like the rules, that they don't apply to you, and this is unacceptable. I can be a patient man, but my patience has ran out. Punishments are in order, and they'll be worse if someone doesn't come forward with the medicine."

Sarah twitched, almost deciding on revealing herself to be the thief when Lee's hand clamped on her arm, their eyes locking for a second as he silently warned her. She frowned, turning back to see Luke glancing up at them, his face pained and eyes pleading for someone to help. With no response, Carver glanced down at the young man, his own son, and kneeled down, his voice low and harsh as he snapped. "I thought I could have trusted you. My own son, and you betrayed us, again."

"I would try over and over, if it meant I could get away from you." Luke spat venomously, yelping out as the guard with their foot on his back moved away, kicking him violently in the side. He yelled out when they did it again, Nick trying to rush to his rescue as Tess held him back, his voice desperate as he pleaded with them. "Bill, that's enough! He's had enough!"

"This is what happens when you break the rules. The medicine that you stole, that our people desperately needs, this is the punishment for it." He snapped, glancing at Luke as he raised his hand to stop the guard, the latter obeying and moving away from the groaning hostage. Slowly, the leader turned his head over to Ellie and Alex, moving towards them as the former held her sibling protectively, his head resting on her shoulder as she cradled him.

Kneeling down, Carver's voice was low as he accused her. "The medicine taken woulda helped Alex a lot, especially with the pain. You had to get him out of Jack's office, and that would have been the perfect time to swipe some of our shit for yourselves. Now, I'm gonna give you a chance to confess, Ellie. Where is it?"

Leaning closer to his face, Ellie kept her cold glare as she pronounced her words. "Get fucked."

"Now, that ain't very polite." He replied dryly, matching her glare in intensity as he growled. "I'm going to give you one last chance, and I'd think very hard on what you say next."

"I ain't saying nothing!" She defied him, holding her head high as he stood back up. "If you're gonna shoot me, go ahead."

"No." That made her raise an eyebrow, confused as Carver moved away, signalling to his guards to close in on her and Alex. With her brother suddenly wrenched from her arms, the boy couldn't do anything but weakly call out his sister's name, stretching his arm to try to reach her. Ellie was held back as she fought desperately to save him, yelling loudly as the tyrant added. "I'm gonna hit you where it really hurts."

"Please, no!" she snapped, fighting viciously against the guards' grips, her eyes wide as Alex was thrown unceremoniously by Carver's side. Coughing loudly, he tried to move, to look around and figure out through the haze what was about to happen, and Lee kept a tight hold on Sarah as she screamed. "Carver, stop!"

"You were all fine with throwing people's lives away by stealing, innocent lives! I'm simply returning the favour." Snatching one of the guns from Tess, Carver pointed it at the injured man, watching as Lee fought to keep Sarah from running to his aid, feeling the panic set in as he looked around for help. Staring up at him, the young teen was given a stern look from the adult to try and get her to keep quiet, unsure on what Carver would do to her if he found out.

After a moment of silence, and it becoming clear that no one would still talk, he sighed, lowering his gun slightly. Lee thought for those few seconds before speaking, deciding that if someone was going to pay for this plan, it had to be him. However, before he could even open his mouth, the gun was raised once more, and the leader coldly finished his rant. "The rules have to be followed."

A bang rang through the air. Echoing, it was quickly followed by Ellie's heartbroken screams. "NO!"

Lee was paralyzed. His eyes stared at the bleeding corpse of Alex, a bullet wound bleeding profusely from his chest, pooling underneath his body as he just laid there. He couldn't turn away, and spotted Ellie breaking free from the guard's grip as she ran to her brother's corpse, kneeling down beside him as she shook him. "Why? Why would you do this?!"

"This is just the beginning. Things will get worse until someone gives me what I want!" Carver addressed the group, looking around. Sarah started to panic more, her breathing quickening as she tried to calm herself, sweat rolling down the side of her forehead as she dropped the blood stained fabric she kept pressed to it. Lee knew that she would eventually crack, and tried his best to calm her when Carver snapped, looking at Omid and Christa and how the woman defensively held him close to her. "Grab the pregnant bitch's boyfriend."

"No! Pleas-!"

"It was me!" Sarah screamed, catching everyone's attention and freeing herself from Lee's grip, falling forwards before catching herself. Standing on her feet, she ran up to Carver, tears streaming down her face as she confessed. "It was me. I took the medicine. Please, don't do this."

Carver's hand stilled, his eyes piercing into Sarah's as she couldn't hold his gaze anymore, staring at the floor with her hand slowly pointing to the opened back of the van. "In a bag, it's tied to the gurney. The medicine is in there."

Gesturing to one of the guards, he stood there whilst they went off and retrieved the stolen goods. The group just stood there in shock, all of them staring at the young teen who could barely move her eyes from the floor, her hand holding onto her upper arm whilst the leader just placed his free hand on her shoulder, his gun still pointing to the injured Alex. With a softer tone, he praised her. "Well done, Sarah. It takes courage to own up to what you done, to be honest."

The last bit felt like it was directed to Lee, his eyes narrowing as he was powerless for what Carver said next. "Your friends should take a lesson from you in honesty. They have been very bad as of late."

"What do you mean?" she asked, wary of him as she backed away. "I don't understand."

"They've lied to you, ever since they met you actually, and Lee over there," he paused, turning Sarah around so she was staring at a distraught Lee. "Well, let's say he's been the main culprit."

"If this is about the escape, I don't care, I just wanted to find my dad! I swear, I'm sorry for stealing the medicine!" she tried to apologize, shaking uncontrollably as his grip on her shoulder tightened.

"It's convenient that Carlos is out there, just waiting for you, right Lee?" Carver mocked, smirking as Lee shook his head, anger flashing over his face.

"Carver, don't!" Lilly tried to snap, her voice weak yet stern.

Lee was unable to move as he just turned to Sarah. "Don't listen to a word he says Sarah. He just wants to turn you against the group, he can't be trusted!"

"I can't be trusted?! After all the lies you fed her, giving her false hope?! I told you to behave yourself otherwise there'd be trouble, and now it's too late to turn back." With that, the leader straightened, and released his grip on the young Sarah, his voice cold as he finally revealed. "Your father isn't coming back, Sarah."

She froze, her face stuck on confusion whilst she tried to figure out what he meant by that. Moving back slowly, she slowly came to realisation as Carver pressed on. "Carlos was attacked and he told you to run. Before he could find you again, he perished, and Lee knew it all along."

"Lee?" she called out, staring straight at him as she pressed. "Is this true?"

He tried to find the words, wanting to deny it all and try to keep her protected, but it was too late. Carver revealed it all, and he could only hang his head in shame as he finally confessed. "I did it to protect you!"

"I-I thought I could trust you!" she yelled, her hands balling into fists as tears resumed falling down her face, her breathing heavy as the gravity of the truth finally hit her. "Daddy… No. No, no, NO!"

Her hands moved to the sides of her head and she broke down, bursting into violent sobs as she shook her head, moving away from Nick before the man could go and comfort her. Lee tried to stand, to move towards her and help her through this, but the look of utter betrayal made him stop in his tracks. Sarah stood there, staring at him with a broken face before she just ran, rushing towards the ajar gates and slipping through, ignoring Lee's or the other's yells for her to come back, one guard holding Nick back as he tried to go after her, calling out her name, Tess holding Lee at gunpoint in case he tried to do the same. Carver watched this all, smug about what he had just done. He listened as one of the guards and the wall called out. "I have her in sight! Do I shoot her?"

"No." he rejected, staring at Lee as he continued. "Don't waste your bullets. She'll be dead a day out there, anyway."

Despair washed over him, his face broken as he just gave up, standing there as Carver continued to address them. "Now, this is what's gonna happen. You people will be worked harder than you've ever had in your lives, and don't think you'll get the same meals like before! That ship has sailed. Lilly, Kristina and Ellie, all of you will be tossed into the Pen with the rest of them, as punishment for breaking our trust."

The guards started corralling the group back towards the main building, some of the people going to push the van out of the way to get the gate fixed, and Lee only listened as Carver ordered Tess. "Get Nathaniel. Have him fix the gate by the morning to stop anyone from sneaking in or out."

"Will do, Bill." With that, she left the scene, walking to the back of the compound to enter through the loading bay, most likely to grab Nathan and close the shutters again. Lee watched her leave, before he was pushed by the guard behind him violently, silently told to keep moving. As they got closer, he heard Carver finish his orders.

"Your punishments will start tomorrow."

Carver was not lying. When the group was taken back to the Pen, it was only hours before sunrise came, the sky bathed in greens, yellows and blues. The group were distraught, most of them sitting around pitying themselves over the situation, whilst Ellie just moved away and laid down on one of the beds, her back to the rest of the group as she mourned her brother, Walter sitting next to her as he consoled her. Lee on the other hand, ignored his friends, Lilly, everyone, and stood by the fence that showed the rest of the world outside. Any sight of Sarah was gone, and he felt his heart tighten at the thought of having lost her too. No matter what he did, he was just a failure.

When the guards came back for them, they were given scraps, pieces of leftover bread and cold stew from last night, the carrots and such having dissolved to form a uniform brown soup. Once they had eaten, they were all taken to different places, and Lee, along with Omid, were stuck with Tess. He paid little attention to the jabs and insults she hurled at him, unable to feel any lower than he did at that moment, and his interest only perked up when he noticed he was being taken to the gate. Confused, he stood there, watching as Tess, holding a couple of large axes, her rifle taped to her back, was conversing with one of the gate guards. Glancing at it, he saw that the van had been pushed to the far end of the wall, no doubt unable to be pushed further without the wheels, and the gate was quickly mended as best as it could, a large dent in the metal framework shaped like the crashed vehicle.

All eyes were on him, the guards up on the wall watching him like hawks, and he couldn't slink away from them as he was forced outside. Pushed, he was forced to keep walking as Tess snapped. "Come on, asshole."

"Where are we going?" he asked, nervousness settling in his stomach as he continued walking. Tess ignored his question, instead leading him to a forested area to the side of the compound, the giant wall separating them from the people inside. Unsure, an axe was forced in his hands, and Omid was given one as well.

"What are we meant to be doing here?" Omid asked, glancing around as he pointed out. "This place isn't exactly the safest."

"That's the point. You two will start clearing out the forest here to make more room for the greenhouse. Bill's letting more people into the compound to make up losses, and that means more food." She explained, leaning against the wall as she snapped. "So get chopping."

It was not safe out there. Lee could have sworn he heard walkers growling in the background, glancing around nervously as he was forced to begin chopping a large tree, making sure he didn't chop the trunk in a way that it would fall on the wall. Omid helped him, and after a while the first tree was tumbling down, the sound echoing through the forest. Glancing back, he noticed Tess' bored expression as she yawned, not even bothering to watch out for walkers, but she kept one eye trained on the two survivors, ehr rifle ready to shoot if they even attempted to run.

"Are you alright, man?" Omid muttered, keeping his voice low to avoid incurring the guard's wrath. "About last night… I'm sorry about Sarah."

"She could be in trouble, or dead, and it's all my fault. I failed her." Lee confessed, carrying work on another tree. Omid seemed sympathetic, offering a trying smile in hope that it would help his friend, but they both knew about their situation. It would only get worse. Looking off into a direction, he noticed walkers shuffling in the distance, moving straight for them because of the noise. With a saddened expression, he prepared himself for a fight, and couldn't help but fear for the young girl lost out there in the world, no one there to help her.

Sarah, I'm sorry.

#twdg #twdg lee #twdg sarah #twdg nick #twdg luke #twdg christa #twdg omid #twdg lilly #twdg carver #tablesturned #story #au

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