#He deserved to die as a warrior not at the knife of a coward

[tarnishedxknight]

((If he could, do you think Basch would've tried to get Rasler to stay in Dalmasca instead of fighting with him in Nalbina? Would Ashe have had she had any idea what would've happened?

{out of dalmasca} Oof. That's such a loaded couple of questions, heh. So, gthe short answer is no, but the long answer is yes. Basch has no authority over Rasler. Rasler is a prince of a different kingdom, so Basch has no right to try to tell Rasler to do or not do anything. So the short answer is no, he would not have tried to get Rasler to stay in Dalmasca. However, the longer answer is that he probably did try to at least warn him and try to gently prepare him, with maybe the hope that the prince would realize he was in over his head.

Basch had faced Archadian forces before, he knew how formidable they were, and he knew how young and green Rasler was. This was a recipe for disaster, and because he loved Ashelia, Basch wanted to make sure her new husband got back home to her. That was important to him, beyond just wanting to protect the prince of a nation Dalmasca was allied with. Rasler was only 18 and Basch would never want anything to happen to someone that young.

Even though he's been a soldier in some capacity since he was fourteen, Basch doesn't think anybody that young should have to fight in a war. So I have no doubt that on the way to Nalbina Fortress, Basch did talk to Rasler, in a limited and respectful capacity, to prepare him for the kind of warfare he'd be facing from Archadia. He also no doubt reminded him that he had a new wife, that his bloodline was dwindling just as Ashe's was, and that his life was more important than making a statement. Rasler, however, was too naive, too idealistic, too headstrong, and too proud to listen.

Once Basch realized that, he decided instead to simply stay close to Rasler and be his bodyguard, essentially, to make sure he survived. Things... did not work out as planned at all, largely because Rasler was so headstrong and quite literally charged out into danger when he should have more wisely stayed back and not taken any unnecessary chances. But because of Basch's position of only being a Knight Captain and of a different kingdom, he really had no ability to press Rasler to stay back or to force him to. It wasn't his fault. Basch... blames himself, though, for Rasler's death... and he always will.

I don't think Ashe would have tried to talk Rasler out of going, no. I mean, if she knew he was going to die, then sure, anybody would, but just because she was worried about what might happen? Nah. Instead, I think she felt ashamed that she wasn't there with him. I think that was also another knife that twisted in her after his death, too. Not only was he very young, her husband, her friend, and one of the last remaining people of the Dynast lineage, but he had also been brave enough to go fight for his country when Ashe... had stayed at home.

It reminds me of the line in this song, "...and like a coward I waited at home." Of course, no one accused Ashe of being a coward, she simply had not been permitted to fight, but in her mind she was one and deserved to be ashamed. It hurt that much more after Rasler did actually die in battle. It was a survivor's guilt and grief response, really, that she should feel so shamed. But this became one of the factors for her resolving to become a warrior in her own right, to fight for her country's freedom no matter the danger, to do it alone if she had to, and to not let others fight her battles for her.

[edenmemes]

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present. 

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞   ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞       ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞   ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞       ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞   ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞   ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞   ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞   ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞   ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞   ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞   ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing?    do you think it is a serious wound? ❞   ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞   ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞   ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞   ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞   ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞   ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞   ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞   ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞   ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞   ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞   ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞   ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞   ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞   ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞   ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞   ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞   ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞   ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞   ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞   ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞   ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞   ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞   ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞   ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞   ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞   ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞   ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞   ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞   ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞   ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞   ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞   ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞   ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞   ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞   ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞   ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞   ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞   ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞   ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞   ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞   ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞   ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞   ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞   ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞   ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about...    about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞   ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞   ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞   ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞   ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞   ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞   ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞   ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞   ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞   ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞   ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞       ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞   ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞   ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞   ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞   ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞   ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞   ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞   ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞   ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞   ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞   ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞   ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞   ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞   ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞   ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞   ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞   ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞   ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞   ❝ people change.    it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞   ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞   ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞   ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞   ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞   ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞   ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞   ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞   ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞   ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞   ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞   ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞   ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞   ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞   ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞   ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞   ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞   ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞   ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞   ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞   ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞   ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞   ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞   ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞   ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞   ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞   ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞   ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞   ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞   ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞   ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞   ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞   ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞   ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞   ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞   ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞   ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞       ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞       ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞       ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞       ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞   ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞       ❝ please, you must fight for me.    who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞   ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞   ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞       ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞       ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞   ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞   ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞   ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞   ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞   ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞   ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞   ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞   ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞   ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞   ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞   ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞   ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞   ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞   ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞   ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞   ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞   ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞   ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞   ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞   ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞   ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞   ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞   ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞   ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞   ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞   ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞   ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end.     that i will not allow. ❞   ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞   ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞   ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞   ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞   ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞   ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞   ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞   ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞   ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞   ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞   ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞   ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞   ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞   ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞   ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞       ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞   ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞   ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞       ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.)   ❞   ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞   ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞   ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.)   ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞   ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞   ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞   ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞       ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞       ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞   ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞   ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞   ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞   ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞   ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞   ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞   ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞   ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

[tailorvizsla]

“Just let me see (her/him/them) one last time. Please.” with Paz 🥺

Title: Home Is In Your Arms Pairing: Paz x F Reader Word Count: ~4k Rating: R Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Reader is an ex-Storm Trooper and was not treated well, some attempts at medical jargon, Paz is injured, a hint of angst, and vanilla sex. Author’s Notes: A request from the lovely, wonderful @huliabitch that was supposed to be a one-shot but evolved into this entire-ass fic because I sort of like this concept? There’s a lot of buildup and not a lot of angst, but just a hint. I really hope you don’t mind! [Holy crap, I copied the wrong list of tags for this. I took those extra names off as soon as I realized it. I’m not sure if I got it quickly enough, though. If you got a note, I am really sorry. Forgive me, please.]

📚 My Master List 📚 If you want to send in a prompt (or just talk to me lol), feel free to peruse the list here!

The gunshot wound to his side is like a singular point of white-hot fire, a blinding supernova of agony as he stumbles against the crumbling remains of the blown-out grocery store. Blood burbles up through his lips and sprays against the inside screen of his visor, streaking crimson as it drips out through the bottom of his helmet. Paz sinks down between two of the shelves, fingers trembling as he tries to staunch the blood rapidly seeping into his kute. Paz gasps as his backside touches the ground, jarring the agonizing pain shooting up his side. His head swims nauseatingly as he struggles to get each gasp of air into his aching lungs.

Fuck, he thinks to himself. Really got in over my head today.

He had a bounty to pick up – a simple bounty for someone skipping on bail – and he had almost gotten them. Then the troopers had shown up with two AT-STs and a TIE-fighter. His head suddenly feels both heavy and empty, and he thinks about his family. His home. Paz lets his head fall back against a stone pillar, blackness starting to seep in at the edges of his eyesight.

Just let me see them one last time. Please.

The last thing he sees as his head bobs down toward his chest are a pair of white boots approaching him.

-

-

-

The EMP blast triggers a minor explosion that knocks you off your feet. Collapsing into the remains of the store, you try to regain your bearings. It takes you several minutes to realize that your collar is no longer buzzing. You toss your weapon down and yank your helmet off, pulling at the band digging into your neck. It does not budge. You swear quietly to yourself.

You remove your breast plate and abdominal armor and drop it on the ground. They will not protect you much from Mandalorian weapons. You’d rather die in your undersuit than in the Empire’s armor. The vambraces follow, falling to the dusty, cracked concrete with a clatter. Glancing around the shop, you find that you are in some sort of supply store. Hopefully, there will be a knife here you can borrow.

As you pass by a display, you pick up a bag and loop it over your chest. Then you go to ransack the shelve for food and medical supplies. There isn’t much here, but it will be enough to tide you over until you can find someplace safe.

When you round the corner, you see a massive pile of blue armor in the corner. You freeze. This is the Mandalorian who had taken out half the buckets on your squad by himself. Many of them had been collared like you. Others were blind followers of the Empire. Despite this, you hold no bitterness against him.

Rather, you find yourself in terrified awe of him.

You get as close to him as you dare and crouch, poking his pauldron. He doesn’t budge. Glancing down at his side, you notice the wound on his side. Shit, he has lost a lot of blood. Chewing on your lower lip, you begin digging through your bag of pilfered supplies. You have some basic first aid training, so you get to work on getting him back onto his feet. When you’ve packed the wound and sealed it with a mass of tape, you start to rifle through his pockets to see what medical supplies he might be carrying. He has a single dose of the really good bacta, the stuff that’ll get a corpse back onto its feet for a few minutes. The stuff that cannon fodder like you would never be given.

For a moment, you stare down at the tiny bottle in your hand, watching as the dose of medicine swishes around inside. You want to take it, but you decide against it. This warrior deserves better than to bleed out in a damn grocery store.

You stab him in the patch of skin you can see. Then you grab his vibroblade and start sawing at the band around your throat, cursing violently as the blade just barely begins to chew through it. You are so engrossed in the task at hand that you do not hear the soft inhalation from behind you. Or the near-silent growl. A rough hand grabs you by the shirt and pulls up. The other hand wraps itself around your neck and you go very still, teetering on your tiptoes to avoid being choked to death.

“Who the fuck are you?” comes a low, deadly voice in your ear.

“The idiot who decided to help you?” you choke out.

“Why the hell would an Imp help a Mandalorian?”

“F-figured would be the right thing to do,” you gasp out. “Borrowed you-your knife – “

“Did you want me on my feet to try and kill me?” he hisses at you. “Did you think I’d be an easy target?”

Your heart rate spikes as his hand tightens around your throat. You cough in response, pulling at his forearm to try and breathe. He doesn’t budge.

“Collar – cut it off – let me – let me die free, please – “

The arm around your neck loosens slightly. Blood rushes back into your head and your knees wobble. His other hand comes up and you inhale, closing your eyes, expecting him to snap your neck. Instead, he examines your collar.

“Interesting,” he says.

Then he yanks his blade from your hand and puts it back where you had borrowed it.

“If I let you go, will you attack me?”

“Not suicidal,” you gasp out.

“Smart girl,” he rumbles out.

He lets go. You stagger a bit, wheezing as you suck down some air to your oxygen-starved lungs. You turn to look at him. Upright, he’s even bigger than you thought. He towers over you by no small amount, nearly twice your size. You swallow tightly, feeling quite exposed without your armor.

Not that it would have protected you much if he decided to take a swing at you. Tripping and falling would crack that cheap plasteel shit. He stumbles and you just barely catch him around the middle. A grunt escapes you at just how damn heavy he is.

“If I help you out of here, will you take this damn thing off me?” you ask him.

“Sure, why not?” he slurs.

“Where to?” you ask.

“East,” he says.

“Are we waiting for anybody?”

“No,” he manages to say. “Just me.”

You stare at him incredulously.

“You are responsible for all this?” you hiss, gesturing at the mayhem outside.

He throws his head back and laughs. It takes nearly two hours to walk the half-mile back to his ship. At some point, you debate on asking him if he’d be willing to ditch the armor, but you decide against it. That amount of beskar is probably worth a small fortune. It takes you a minute to spot his ship, cleverly hidden under a rocky overhang and a large camouflage tarp.

The ramp opens and you carry him up the ramp. There, you drag him as far as you can before he collapses. You grab the tarp and drag it inside to keep it from getting sucked into the intake vents. You shut the door before you start looking for a med kit. You find it in the galley, just above the sink. Then you hurtle back to the Mandalorian and inject him with another dose of the good stuff. Then you check his wound. Miraculously, the bleeding seems to have stopped.

From there, there is little you can do but wait, so you cover his chest with a blanket and climb into the cockpit. It only takes a few minutes to get the ship into the air and away from the battlefield.

-

-

-

You aren’t quite sure when you fell asleep, but when a hand clamps down on your shoulder, your neck is sore, and you have drooled on yourself. You look up. Big Blue is looming over you.

“The fuck are you doing?” he growls.

You blink the sleep out of your eyes. Then it all comes back in a rush. Shit.

“I didn’t know where you wanted to go,” you stutter out. “So I put her in a random hyperspace lane. I think.”

“Move,” he snarls.

You quickly get out of his way and he sits down. You retreat into the copilot’s chair, where you sit in silence for several minutes. He makes several course adjustments before you dare to speak up.

“Can I use your refresher, please?” you ask.

Be polite and he may not just toss you out the back. He growls. You take that as a yes. You head down the ladder and into the refresher you had seen. You relieve yourself. Then you eye the tiny washing machine stuffed in the corner. You stare down at your stained undersuit.

It’s filthy.

You’re filthy.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you peer over at the ladder. You asked for the refresher, not the toilet. And the washing machine is in the refresher. So it’s fair game?

Swiftly, before you can porg out like a coward, you shuck the suit and your underthings off, stuffing it all into the washing machine. Then you jump into the shower and begin cleaning up quickly. You untie your hair and work the worst of the knots in your braid out with your fingers. Then you steal some soap and start scrubbing the layers of blood, dirt, and grime off your body.

The water is cold, but it is glorious to be able to shower for more than two minutes at a time. When you are finished, you hop out and grab a towel. You can just barely wrap it around yourself, and it does little to cover your curves. You are just moving your things into the dryer when you hear your Mandalorian’s footsteps stomping toward the door.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” he snarls.

You open the door, putting your hands up.

“I asked to borrow your refresher,” you say. “I borrowed it. Nothing more.”

He freezes, his dark visor tilted down at you.

“Uh,” he stutters out. “Uhm – “

“It looks like it’ll be a little bit before everything is finished drying,” you tell him. “Then I’ll find a corner to sit in. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers. “Get dressed. I will be in the cockpit.”

He turns on his heel and goes back to the ladder in a hurry. You frown after him. What a weirdo. It takes another thirty minutes for the dryer to finish extracting the moisture from your clothing. You put it all back on and head up to the cockpit. He turns to look at you.

“You stay on that cushion,” he says, pointing at a chair. “Are we clear?”

“Aye, captain,” you say, sitting down in the copilot’s chair.

He disappears down the narrow corridor. You peer after him, snooping shamelessly. You catch a glimpse of a big bed and a gun case before the door swishes shut after him. You turn your attention back to the dizzying array of blue lights passing by in the windows. Boredom sets in quickly. You glance at the door. Then at the cushion under you.

A stupid thought seizes you. You’re hungry. He’s probably famished. Big Blue is your commanding officer now. So, he gets to eat first. Then, if he allows it, you get to eat your own ration. You push the thoughts away. This isn’t the Empire - he may not care if you eat at all.

But still. He’s your commanding officer now. And he’s been injured.

You give the cushion a tug and it pulls away from the seat, revealing the attachment points. You climb down the ladder, the cushion under one arm. Then you go dig around in the galley for something to snack on. Setting the cushion on the ground, you take your place on it, and start sifting through the packages of freeze-dried food.

“WOMAN - !” your Mandalorian bellows.

You nearly leap into the air. He drops down the ladder and lands with a jarring thud. He comes stomping into the galley, where you have put what appears to be a ration pack on the counter to heat. He glowers down at you.

“What. Did. I. Tell. You.”

“You said I couldn’t leave the cushion,” you say. “But you need to eat – “

“I can feed myself,” he hissed. “I gave you a direct order – “

You pat the cushion under your ass.

“You need to eat,” you repeat. “Your blood sugar is probably tanked by now. And concentrated bacta does weird things to your sodium levels. You need to eat, sir.”

He inhales sharply to yell, but he cuts himself off, pressing his face to his hand. You can almost see the steam curling from under his helmet.

“Do not call me sir. Get your ass to the cockpit. NOW. Before I snap your fucking neck and throw you out the airlock.”

You grab the bread roll and stuff it into your mouth. Then you grab the cushion and climb back up the ladder, hastily replacing it where it belongs. By the time he gets back to you, you’ve devoured the bread, and you are licking the crumbs off your fingertips.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he snaps.

You tilt your head up at him questioningly and decide to not argue.

“Let me see your collar,” he says grouchily.

You flip your hair forward. Big Blue grabs the collar. This time, he far gentler as he starts messing with it. You stay quiet, hoping that it will come off. Then you feel something cold slip between it and your neck. Then it pinches and the collar falls away. You stare down at it, turning it over and over.

“I’m free,” you whisper. You look up at him. “I’m free.”

“Looks like it,” he says. “Where are you from?”

You shake your head.

“I don’t know.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m at least twenty-four,” you say. “That’s all I know.”

He turns to look at you.

“Any fodders who survive to their twenty-fourth get the dubious pleasure of being shortlisted for officer training,” you say quietly, bitterly as you look out the window. “I think my training started last year at some point.”

“How do you not remember?” he asks impatiently.

“They don’t want to damage our nervous systems with repeated shocking,” you say, looking down at the collar in your hands. “They sometimes drugged us if they suspected we were thinking too much.”

He doesn’t respond. You exhale. Then you chortle.

“Are you looking to hire backup? I’m a fair shot,” you say wryly. “I ask for two meals a day and a corner to sleep in.”

“You think I’d pay you that much?” he retorts. “You Imps are all terrible shots.”

“By the time someone gets put on frontline duty, their fine motor controls are fried,” you say nonchalantly, swinging your foot back and forth. You hold up your hand, watching as your fingers tremble minutely.

“A lieutenant made a pass at me and I turned him down. He didn’t like that,” you say nonchalantly. “He refused to take no for an answer, so I broke his nose.”

“You were tortured for defending yourself?” he asks, his voice suddenly quiet.

You tilt your head up at him questioningly.

“Oh, no. Gideon had him killed for making a pass at me. Mingling between officers and fodders is forbidden,” you say, shaking your head. “I got my date with the electrical socket because I missed cleaning up his blood. Some of it got on Gideon’s boot."

You wrap your arms around your knee and stare out at the lights flashing by. He doesn’t respond for a long time.

“Two meals and a corner?” he asks.

“That’s my best offer,” you respond. “If you let me have a blanket, I can negotiate down to one meal a day.”

“Bread?” he counters.

“Warm,” you return easily. “With butter. And I still want a blanket.”

“You look at me wrong and I will toss you straight out through the airlock. You understand?”

You nod, relief filling you.

-

-

-

Two Years Later

You nudge Paz with your elbow and tilt your head toward the gorgeous redhead at the bar.

“How about her?” you ask. “Go ask her for her comm number.”

“No,” Paz says for the twelfth time that night. “I told you, I have a different type.”

“I can’t help you find a nice lady if you won’t tell me what your type is,” you say to Paz. “You have turned down literally every person I have suggested. You do still like ladies, right?”

He sighs in exasperation.

“I don’t do the temporary thing,” he says at long last.

“So you want the whole nine parsecs, yes?” you ask. “A nice courtship, marriage, and a herd of little blue brats? Maybe a loth-cat?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Or as close as I can get to it. I’m not going to find that person in a bar.”

You sigh dejectedly.

“Why do you care?” he asks, tilting his helmet down at you.

“Well, I certainly am not going to get laid,” you say. “Might as well play the role of backup and keep helping you out.”

He huffs in amusement.

“I have my eyes on someone closer to me,” he says quietly.

“Oh?” you ask, perking up. “Is it – oh, who was that – sauce girl? The one who dumped a pot of sauce all over – “

“No,” Paz says, his head turning to yours sharply. “No, you di’kut. That was my kriffing cousin.”

“Well, fuck,” you say. “She’s the only woman I’ve seen you spend any amount of time with.”

“Much closer,” he continues in an odd tone.

“…are you hiding your lady friends from me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes up at him. “What, are you afraid I’ll tell them about your stupid ideas when you get wasted? How dare you.”

He harrumphs grumpily.

“Take mercy on the poor man,” a drunken voice slurs. “He means you, daft girl.”

A sharp jolt of surprise fills you as you look up at Paz. He grimaces and refuses to look at you as he sips his drink down. The drunk person laughs and sloshes their way to an empty booth, where they collapse onto the cushion and start snoring. You give Paz an appraising look.

“So, do you wanna fuck me, or do you want the whole nine parsecs?” you ask, tilting your head up at him.

“Uh…both?” he says.

Without hesitating, you slam a handful of credits on the bar to pay for your drink. Then you finish the last sip.

“Let’s go,” you tell him.

“Where?” he asks.

“Ship,” you say. “I haven’t been fucked in years.”

“Well, maybe we should discuss – “

“Blue,” you say patiently. “There is nothing to discuss. My answer is yes.”

You hear his sharp inhalation from here.

“Now. If you don’t start moving, I’ll just borrow the bartender’s can opener,” you say saucily to him. “I’ll get that codpiece off, one way or another.”

Paz puts his drink down and adds his own money to the pile. It takes far too long to get back to the ship. Once the ramp is closed behind him, you start shucking your clothes off. When you’re completely naked, you start helping Paz remove his armor, dropping it onto the table. Then he removes his padding and undersuit, revealing a thick, muscular frame to you. Then the lights turn off and you hear another thunk. A thrill runs through you when you realize his helmet is off.

“Bed?” you ask, hoping he’ll say yes to a tumble on that decadent bed of his.

“Bed,” he confirms.

You make it up the ladder in record time, opening the bedroom door. Paz follows after you, not bothering to shut the door, as he hurtles onto the bed after you. He throws you down onto your back, mouth crashing onto yours, one hand groping at your hip and the other supporting the majority of his weight. You pull at Paz’s hair, digging your nails into his scalp as you kiss him back, wrapping your legs snugly around his waist. It’s sloppy and a bit rushed, but you do not care.

He tastes like the cheap fruit alcohol he had been drinking and like himself, vaguely sweet and metallic. You nip at his lower lip, a little rougher than you intended, earning a growl from him. He grinds his length against you and you gasp sharply. You’re already soaking wet and ready for Paz as he slides his hand between your bodies. His fingers press inward. You tear your mouth away from his and moan, lifting your hips against his hand.

“Yes,” you hiss at him. “Paz, more!”

He nibbles his way along your neck and down to your shoulder, the wet sounds of his fingers working inside of you barely audible over your moans. Frustrated, you hook one leg behind his, the other on the bed for leverage. You kiss Paz back, forcing your tongue into his mouth, relishing in his noise of surprise. You push against his shoulder at the same time and you just barely get him onto his back.

“Not sure what you think you’re doin’,” he manages to say as you settle on his hips.

“Shut up,” you tell him, as you position his generously sized cock under you.

Your eyes roll back as you start to take him in slow, short thrusts. He’s a lot bigger than you had expected, but you are no coward – you have never shied away from a challenge. Just when you think you can’t take any more of his hard, thick length, your clit presses down against his pubic bone, and a victorious thrill runs through you.

You can feel him throbbing deep inside of you just shy of discomfort. As you catch your breath, Paz shifts impatiently, a groan escaping him.

“Move, move – “ he urges around his pants. “Baby, please.”

Resting your weight on his lower belly, you start a slow pace, grinding slow circles, relishing in each rich moan you can get from your lover. One hand finds your hip, the other your breast. He pinches down on your nipple and you mewl at the sharp burst of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he stutters out. “Feel so-so fuckin’ good, baby.”

You change your pace, swiveling your hips in tight circles, arching your back so he can get in nice and deep with each thrust. Paz gasps, a tremor running through his body as you take him that extra half-inch.

“Shit,” he says, his voice catching just a hair, “Oh fuck, don’t – don’t know what I did to deserve you. Don’t fuckin’ deserve you, baby – “

Your breath stutters at his words, but your pace doesn’t break.

“ – so good to me,” he babbles, “Too good to me – too good for me – “

Tears spring to your eyes at his self-deprecation. You dig your nails into his belly to stop him, grinding down against his pubic bone.

“You’re mine,” you whisper in response. “Mine, Paz Vizsla, you’re mine and you’re perfect.”

Both hands fall to your hips and Paz starts to thrust up into you, taking over and setting the pace he wants. Paz grunts in frustration and pulls you down against his chest, rolling your bodies back over before you can protest. He presses a kiss to your lips before resuming his punishing pace once more, each thrust sending you spiraling higher and higher toward completion. You dig your nails into his back when he starts hitting that spot, the one that makes you sob.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant into his ear. “Gods, yes, Paz – I’m c-coming – “

You tighten around him and cry out on more time, digging your heels into his backside as you come around him, walls shuddering around his cock. The pleasure sweeps through you in deep, devastating waves, leaving you breathless and shaking. Paz goes stiff, harsh groans escaping him with each pulse of his cock inside you. After several long seconds, he falls forward onto his elbows, trapping you under him. As you run your fingers along his spine and massage his shoulders, Paz sighs with pleasure, his cock occasionally twitching.

“Need me to move?” he asks.

“I can take it,” you say sleepily. “Kinda like it. You’re like a weighted blanket. A really warm one.”

He huffs in amusement.

“Your feet are like ice,” he says.

He pulls his hips back. A torrent of his spend follows as you stretch out for a few seconds. Then you crawl under the blanket and curl up, inhaling the soft scent of his pillows. Paz joins you a moment later, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’re a walking furnace,” you mumble to him. “Holy fuck.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple. Just as your breath is starting to slow, Paz speaks softly. So softly you nearly miss it.

“Always wanted to go home,” he whispers. “Never knew it was right here the whole time.”

Warmth fills your chest at those sweet words.

“Sleep, cyar’ika.”

For the first time in your life, you find rest easily. You dream of pleasant things, and your future no longer seems terrifying and lonely.

-

-

-

Tags: I guess this qualifies as a fic in some places? lmao

@hdlynn @princessbatears @oloreaa @phoenixhalliwell @reader-without-a-story @nelba @aeryntheofficial @trippedmetaldetector @jedi-mando @marthastewart89

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 4: Bridge and Chorus

Chapter summary: the aftermath

Chapter warnings: Odin, Major Character Death, suicide

Chapter note: this chapter is dedicated to @lucywrites02 because she pretended to be a bad bitch yesterday.

Previous chapter AO3

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

The shackles sing as Loki walks towards the throne, fighting back a grin. Odin, on the other hand, sits on his high quality chair, believing to be intimidating.

"You have committed a grave crime against the-" Odin tries to speak, but Loki chuckles.

"I know what I have done, Odin. No need to repeat yourself," they interrupt, using a voice they've been hiding in their throat since they learned how to speak.

And it has so much to say…

"Has your mother taught you no respect for your king?" They yell, their favourite way of speaking to Loki. In all these years, Loki cowarded away at this voice, scared of a physical expression of the anger. This time, he laughs at it.

"Not my mother, and I have no king but myself," they smile, watching a new wave of anger flashing in the old charlatan's face.

"Silence! You never knew how to shut this mouth of yours!" Odin raises his voice, hoping to see the now natural cowering of Loki. The only answer is another laugh.

"Do you really want me to start speaking, Odin? To see who is truly guilty, with all these good dicks and whores listening?" Loki asks, a glow in his eyes as he gestures around as wide as the shackles allow. The harshness of their tongue makes the nobles who watch the "trial" gasp.

"Who taught you this language?" The old man spits, narrowing one eye.

"Apart from your anger? And that old warrior you ordered to teach Thor and me how to survive in a forest? And there are the guards, I can name a few but stitching is a worse crime than murder…" he mutters, acting if like he's chatting with a cup of tea other than being on a trial for murder.

There's no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

"Enough with your games! Why did you murder Lord Gæirasson in cold blood?" Odin asks the "big question", as if the right answer will lift the charges from Loki's name.

"Because… one, because he was a racist and offended me, to which the punishment is death. Two, because he started a war-"

"You started a war, Loki," Thor interrupts, taking Odin's side, like every time.

"A war had been started. Let's not blame people, Thor. Now where were I? Oh, yeah, at how Gæirasson started a war. Also, he refused to pay his taxes and you know how seriously I took my responsibility of being in charge of the palace's finances. Did war crimes against my people, father would be proud the son of a bitch is dead. And lastly, but definitely not least, a dreadful sense of fashion. Have you seen what his grooms wear? I think I threw up in my mouth when I saw it…" they finish with the rumbling, not even thinking of answering seriously. Odin will execute him anyways, would some fun be so bad?

"I said, enough with the games!" Odin basically screeches, their face going red.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

"For the murder of a lord, cause of a war and disrespect towards the throne, I Odin Allfather sentence you to a life in the dungeons," he decides.

"Dungeons? Not axe? Did Frigga's ghost or this moron talk you out of killing me?" Loki questions, taking their turn to narrow their eyes.

"If you keep talking, I might change my mind," Odin sighs, rubbing his temple.

"And get rid of this perfect pawn to hold King Laufey from the balls? A shame, really," Loki poutes and shrugs, pretending awfully that he cares.

"I will not stand your disrespect any longer! I had granted you your life, Loki, more than once! You will learn to respect me for it! Take them to the dungeons!" Odin speaks the final order. Four guards grab the chains that lead to Loki's shackles and push him away, forcing him to walk with them

Only then I am human / only then I am free

On the way to the dungeons, Thor stops the guards and demands to speak to Loki.

"Just tell me why, brother. Please. What didn't we give you to make you care so little?" they ask, grabbing Loki's shoulder, just like they always used to do.

"A family. That's what you didn't give me. And that's what I've earned," Loki answers, staring right into his no-brother's eyes, the blue in them and the pale lines that resemble his lightning. They know they won't see Thor from this close ever again, and they deserve a proper last memory.

"Then, I'm sorry. It's late, I know, but remember this, please… I shall visit, whenever I can, Loki. I swear. You shouldn't be in prison all alone," Thor promises. Loki gives only a nod, enough to make Thor dismiss the guards and let them keep walking Loki to his future and last chamber.

The only sign of emotions they allow themselves to show is a sigh, only out of sympathy.

For he knows that his freedom just begins.

Take me to church / I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

The moment the guards put Loki back into the white vacant cell and take their eyes off them, they cast an illusion of them settling on the floor and staring at nothing. The real Loki is walking up and down the room, waiting for the Tesseract to speak.

"Now?" he asks, feeling it close.

"Now, you need to learn who your family is. Not Odin, not Laufey, your true family, Entropy," they answer.

"What with this name? After all this, can't you call me by my name?" Loki groans.

"I am. You have many names. Entropy, the Chaos Stone, the Death Stone, the Knot… the last one, actually, is the name you're most familiar with, translated to Old Jötunn tongue," they speak, all matter-of-factly.

"You're lying, the Chaos stone is a myth," Loki brushes off the answer.

"It does exist. A black gem, created by billions of ropes, strings and threads tangled together. The hardest one to wield and command and impossible to find. The Jötnar had found it and worshipped it. And when Laufey found out that his son is nothing but a dead baby, he sacrificed the infant for the infant. And Odin found the baby crying in the altar, the gem gone,"

"So I own my life to an imaginary stone, apart from an old piece of shit. What a surprise…" Loki throws their hands in the air.

"No. You are the imaginary stone. In order to give life, the Chaos gem entered your body and never left. You are the flesh of a corpse and the mind of an infinity stone. And it's time to leave the corpse and join us,"

The aimless walking stops, and Loki's heart skips a beat

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

"You made me kill a man, for this?" he asks, glaring at nothing. They don't answer.

"You made me kill a man! Just so I could die!" boiling hot tears streaming down their eyes and slither into their shirt as burning red eyes stare at the empty room for something. "I trusted you! You promised me a family!" he yells between his sobs.

Their feet cannot support them, and they kneel down, turned into a crying sobbing and yelling mess. A hand, created by mist, grabs his shoulder, trying to provide comfort.

"I hate you," they spit, flaring their nose drills as they stare into the blue eyes of the illusion they use to pretend they're close to them.

"I'm sorry, hurting you was… if I could prevent it…" the stone says and gives him a small squeeze. And they mean it. If there was a way to do it without any pain, they would. But it's too late, Loki is already hurt…

Offer me that deathless death

Loki throws themselves into the tightest embrace they ever had, weeping like a baby. "I don't want to die. Please, I don't wanna die. Anything but this, anything, please!" he whispers, diving his head into their shoulder without a thought of holding back the tears.

"Shhhh, you won't die. Not truly. Your mind is the stone, as long as it exists you exist. And the body will stay intact until you need it again. You will be fine, I promise," they whisper, hoping of making them feel better.

"I'm scared, Tessie. I'm so scared, I can't," for a prince, Loki sounds so small, almost like the small child they used to be. Tessie starts playing with his hair, hoping to calm him down, even for a bit.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine, no matter if you do it or not," they shush them.

"If I do it or not?" Loki repeats, sniffing quietly and breaking the hug only to look at the misty blue eyes of Tessie.

"I… you're in so much pain… if you decide that you had enough, you'll be left alone," they explain. Loki nods, still quivering from the crying, but determined.

"No. We got so far. I-I-I'm not giving up," he lets his voice get louder, and then stands up. "What do I do?" they ask, collected once again.

"Get comfortable in a position. And once you're ready, make the ropes appear and let them wash over you," Tessie explains, holding this sympathetic voice. Loki nods and sits back down against the white wall, moving to get comfortable.

Then, with just a thought, the ropes appear and fill him with this calming sensation. Tessie walks closer and cups their cheeks. "See you on the other side, Loki," they smile and kiss their forehead before vanishing.

Loki takes a deep breath, and looks around the cage. He remembers a field day he had when little, a good day. Odin was sleeping on a bench and Frigga was yelling at them and Thor to not get into trouble as Thor dragged Loki, who was just above six, on an expiration of the forest around a castle in Vanaheim. Of course, they returned after the sun was down, with scraped up knees and dirty clothes and Loki had traces of tears in his cheeks because a bug scared him. But it had been, and still is, the best time they ever had with Thor.

He holds tight into the memory as he lets the ropes cover him and closes his eyes.

Good God, let me give you my life

The guards don't know how this happened. One moment, Loki was gazing at nothing and the next…

How does one say this to the Allfather?

The healers walk out of the cage when Thor storms in the dungeons, on the verge of panicking. "Is he alive?" It's all they ask.

The healers won't answer, it's enough to know.

Thor walks in and sits beside what used to be Loki, holding their cold and deformed hand and letting tears run down his face.

Loki doesn't respond, how could he?

He's a statue, as if made from black stone, and his hands covered in stone black ropes, with a faint glow where his heart should be being the only sign that there was once life there.

Loki's face doesn't have the signature smirk, and there's no gleam in their closed eyes. But he does wear a peaceful smile. A smile Thor regrets he had to see this body in order to know that his brother knows finally peace.

[korkisobsessions]

The Oath

Lone wolf

Hi guys! I´m still alive :D Sorry for very long pause. This chapter was kind of heavy to write. Hope you will like it and the struggle will be worth it :)

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

“My hand is bleeding again” Nilah looked on her palm, wrapped in bondage that was lightly getting crimson colour in the spot where her little finger used to be.

She laid next to Yeongshin who was playing with her hair.

“I’m still mad at you, because of that.”

“Don’t be” she kissed him playfully and made her way to the kitchen where she cleans her wound that was pulsing with light pain. Her whole palm was weirdly stiff, but it was getting better.

Sun was already behind trees and illuminated world in beautiful warm gold colour. Nilah saw Miho playing near forest and she thought about her conversation with Bon Hwa.

“Miho is outside. I will go talk with him.” She called inside to let Yeong shin know. She gets used to let him know where she is, or where she is going since he can’t see her. But she noticed he was getting better in paying attention to noises she made and he knows where she is before she speaks. Like his hearing skills were stronger than before.

“I will be good” came response, and rustle of clothes.

Nilah made her way outside and smile, when young boy noticed her presence. He was different. His eyes were sad and scared.

“Hey Miho. How are you? It’s been a while since I saw you.”

He just shrugged and play with stick like it was a sword.

“You have nice pendant.” She points on fang hanging around his neck.

“Yeong shin gave it to me. I should return it to him.” He mumbled and stopped chopping tall grass.

“And why is that?”  she sat to the grass and patted the ground next to her. Miho sat down and wipe his nose. Single tear slipped down his face.

“He gave it to me because I was brave. But I’m not. I’m coward.” He started to cry, his little shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Miho, no! Don’t say that.” She hugged him tight and tried to comfort him. But she knows she must tell him the truth. “It’s not a shame to be scared. I will tell you my and Yeong shin’s story. Part of it.”

She took a deep breath and rolled up her sleeves, revealing her scarred arms. “I was soldier. I served in Lord Ahn Hyun army...”

Miho was watching her with awe, his cheeks red with excitement.

“A soldier? I thought that you were princess...”

Nilah laughed “No, I was just a common soldier. Lord Ahn gave me order. To protect one man. No matter what. That man was former chakho who came to Sangju with prince Lee Chang.”

“With crown Prince? Yeong shin knows Crown Prince?” Miho gasped. He held his pendant in trembling fingers like it was made of gold.

“Yes, he knows him well. Prince Chang and Yeongshin was fighting side by side with terrible plague. Me and several soldiers were with them.”

Miho’s eyes were big with excitement and she almost heard his little heart hammering in his chest.

“We fight in Hanyang. I was following my order and protecting Yeong shin. And there was accident. I fall through the burning roof, broke my leg and almost died. And I was scared. I was facing the flames and enemy. And I cry because I didn’t want to die. Not yet. Flames burned me, but I survived...”

“I’m not scared of fire.” Miho furrowed his brow and raised his head, his scar more visible. “I kind of like that scar. I look like warrior.”

Nilah was confused. She thought that Miho is ashamed, because of his scars.

“Then what you are afraid of?”

“It’s because of that body my father and Yeong shin found.” Miho throw his hands in the air with desperation. “I heard my father talk with aunt Bon Hwa first night we move to her house. They talk about dead man that my father found in woods and asked Yeong shin for help.”

Nilah felt sick. She knew exactly when it was. And that Yeong shin must lied to her that night.

He lied...

She was shaking and her world starts to spinning.

He lied to her, after all her fears that Sang-Ho is somewhere out there. She even started to believe that she made it up in her mind.

Maybe it was Sang-Ho who murder that man. To scared her more.

“My father didn’t know I was listening and he keeps talking. And I can’t sleep since then. He says that man was headless. And how his insides hang around him from the tree...”

“What?” Nilah though that she heard him wrong.

This cannot be...

“Someone tortures him.”

Nilah wants to scream, but pure terror froze her on spot.

“Miho, I need you to run home. And don’t come back here! Run and don’t look back!”

“But Nilah...” boy whine and his face were confused. He looked like he will be crying again.

“I said run!” she shouts at him harshly.

And Miho run. She heard his sobs when he disappeared from her sight.

Nilah was scared she almost can’t breathe. Her head was spinning.

Someone tortured him...

.... his insides hang around him from the tree...

“No!” she sobbed to her palm. “Yeong shin, you fool” She whispered just for herself.

And she run. She run towards the house, her only real home. She run and watch dark consuming her only happy place. Yeong shin was sitting on his bench, probably waiting for her. His smile froze, when he heard her quick footsteps and frantic breath.

She grabbed him by the collar and shook with him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about that dead man you found?”

He held her shaking wrist and tried to understand what she said. She was crying, screaming at him and he was surprised. “Yeong shin! It was blood eagle! You should tell me that! It was... Ahhhh!”

She let out painful cry. It was hard blown to her back that made her fall right into Yeong shin’s arms. He caught her and call her name with confusion.

At first, she thought that someone throw a rock and hit her in the shoulder blade. But the pain was still stronger and stronger and burning through her body.

And than she noticed metal tip that was poking from her skin just under the collar bone. In that moment she knows, that she has arrow in her back.

“Nilah!” Yeong shin was shaking with her calling her name until his trembling hands found arrow sticking out of her back. “No... Nilah...talk to me. I can’t...”

She felt her own heartbeat pulsing in her fresh wound, and blood dripping from her fingers. “It’s nothing...I’m fine. But you must hide. Somewhere. Run to the village!”

“Nilah, you are hurt.” He was desperately trying to stop bleeding, to help her, but he was again just helpless blind man.

“Please Yeong shin! You must save yourself. He is coming!” she cried and kissed his lips maybe for the last time.

“Who...?”

When she heard that voice, firm and tempting, her insides cramped and hair on her neck stood up.

“What a sight for a sore eye!”

There was standing tall man. His broad shoulders covered in leather and fur. Long dark hair was falling into very handsome face with green eyes. Same as hers.

“My dearest sister. It’s been a while...” he smiled, showing teeth in wild dangerous grin.

“Harlan...” Nilah whispered facing her brother and shielding Yeong shin with her body. She was so scared; terrified that her legs were not listening. Even if she wanted to run away, she can’t.

Yeong shin held her hand and in his other hand gripes long knife. She didn’t even saw him pulling it out from underneath the bench.

“I was looking for you really long time.” He made few steps closer and Nilah noticed he was carrying dirty leather bag.

“Why?”  she tried to sound brave, but she was scared of her brother. Harlan’s worst trait was his unpredictable nature. She never knew what to expect.

“Why?”  he looked like he couldn’t believe what she was asking. “Because you are my sister and I was worried. You disappeared like a ghost. Father came back home without you and furious. He told me that you run away.”

Nilah swallowed bitter tears and lifts her chin up.

“Yes, I run. That man was awful.”

“I was waiting for you sister. I was waiting for message that you are alive and safe. But I got nothing.”

“I’m sorry Harlan, I was...”

“Save your apologies. I came to this land because of father business and found out that war and plague almost devastated this kingdom. I almost lost last drop of faith and suddenly I was in Sangju and overheard two soldiers talking about Nilah. So, I start asking...”

Nilah was cold. Blood was soaking through her shirt and night air was still little chilli. But It was mainly fear of her brother what made her shiver.

“I brought you present from Sangju.” He lifts that leather bag and throw it to her feet.

“Nilah, what is it?” Yeong shin whispered when she carefully kneels down and open the bag.

At first it was terrible stench. She almost vomit when it filled her nostrils.

And Yeong shin felt that too. Realization hit him like a hammer right to chest.  It was heavy stench of rotten flesh. He wanted to stop her, but it was too late.

Nilah turned bag, bottom up and on the ground rolled round thing.

Nilah screamed.

She falls backwards, but Yeongshin caught her under her arms, trying not to hurt her more, because she sill had arrow in her shoulder.

On the ground was laying head of a man. It was probably long time since he was alive. His eyes already gone, skin grey, dark hair dirty and tangled. Even his blood wasn’t red anymore.

She wants to look away, but her curiosity was stronger and she can’t help it. Why he was giving her head of some man.

And than she noticed it. His dark hair long to chin. Little scar under his lip.

It was head of captain of Sangju guards.

On the ground before her lays head of Sang-Ho.

She covered her mouth and muffled another scream.

“You killed Sang-Ho!”

Harlan was suddenly deadly serious. His eyes sparks with anger. She knows this look and it was pure danger.

“This man, locked you in dirty cell. Ashamed you! Humiliate you and rape you. He deserves to die.” He hissed between his teeth. “And this man...” he points to Yeong shin “He claims that he loves you, but he leaves that pig alive!”

“I must!” Yeong shin barked towards Harlan. His anger taking control. “I can’t kill him. They would kill us both.”

Nilah was sitting on the ground, facing Sang-Ho’s head. His skin was grey and lifeless, eyes empty and mouth loosely agape. He didn’t even look like himself. There wasn’t his arrogant smile and too smart eyes. It was just a pile of rotten flesh.

She raised her eyes to Harlan with disgust. “It was you, the whole time. You were haunting me” she was sick when she realised what scared her in the past few weeks. “I thought that Sang-Ho found me. But it was you with his head.”

Harlan smiled again and something dark and twisted glow in his eyes.

“I dragged him here from Sangju. He was alive and he saw how you two love birds live. And then I killed him. He was really sorry that he laid a finger on you, sister. He cried and begged for your forgiveness when I was cutting off his balls.” Harlan spoke like it was nothing.

Nilah turned away and trying hard not to throw up. She never thought, she will ever be sorry for Sang-Ho. He was cruel to her, but she never, not in her wildest dreams want for him death like this. Humiliated, scared and alone.

Yeong shin grabbed her hand and his lips were on her ear.

“Nilah stay with me. What weapons did he have?”

She heard his voice like from distance. Loud buzzing in her ears and painful pulsing in her wound distracted her from reality, where her beloved man who was blind wanted to fight her brother who was one of the best fighters she ever met.

“You can’t fight him Yeong shin. I’m not worth it.”

His arms carefully wrapped around her and shield her from her brother’s sight. But over his shoulder, Nilah saw Harlan’s dark jealous eyes.

“You are worth everything.”

Nilah wanted to be in his arms forever, to feel his comforting warmth, his lips touching her ear when he was whispering secrets to her. She gently held his face in her palms trying to remember his face, to burn it into her memory forever. But the picture of him wasn’t whole without his eyes, that was hidden under dark scarf. She carefully hooks her fingers under soft fabric and pull it down. His eyes were deep and full of emotions she was feeling too. Love fear and pain.

“I love you so much.” She whispered and pressed her lips against his. She was scared that she will not have a chance to say it again. But still those words were not enough.

“That’s enough Nilah! Time to leave.” Harlan grabs her by backside of her shirt and jerk with her pulling her out of their fragile world. Her arms desperately tried to hold Yeong shin, but she was quickly losing strength because of the wound in her shoulder. She cried out loud when sharp head of the arrow twists in her flesh.

“No! Nilah!” Yeong shin scream and tries to find her. His hands searching for her without success.

Harlan raised her from the ground with victorious smirk. “This is not place for you.”

“Let me go!” she tried to fight him, but his hands held her in iron grip. Dark was getting deeper and swallowing her whole world.

“You should be a queen of this damn kingdom. Not to live with some dirty blind chakho.”

And with that words her fist collides with Harlan’s jaw, his head jerked backward. With surprised laughter he spat blood on the ground. Nilah’s hand was throbbing with pain but that satisfying feeling ease it.

“He is much better man than anyone” she hisses into his face with all the pride she had in her heart.

But Harlan just laughs. It was false cruel laughter when he made few steps towards Yeong shin.

“We can try, if your dog just barks or he can bite.”

He wanted to punch Yeong shin right into face but he was prepared for it and made quick step back and cut through the air with his knife.

“That is adorable. You wanted to fight me cripple?” Harlan raised his fist but his arm was suddenly in tight grip.

Nilah held him with all of her strength.

“Don’t you dare to hurt him!”

Yeong shin took a chance a stab Harlan, but his knife slip on armour from thick leather and made just shallow cut on Harlan’s side. But Nilah’s brother hissed with pain and anger.

His patience with sister’s stubbornness came to an end. He turns around and hit her with the back of his hand right across the face. Nilah cried and fell to the ground.

“Nilah!” Yeong shin scream and tried to calm his nerves to sense his opponent without his sight. To hear him move, to feel his presence. But all he can focus on was wounded Nilah somewhere in the darkness. Somewhere that he can’t reach her and protect her.

Hard blown to his face light up his world. It was like lightning strikes right inside his head and the pain was overwhelming. Harlan’s fists were like hammers, crushing his flesh and probably bones too. His nose gave up and cracked. Blood was filling his mouth and for a moment he thought, if it is possible to drown in his own blood.

“She is mine! Do you understand” Harlan shouts somewhere close to his face. Yeong shin tried to punch him, but his fist just flies through the air.

He was just helpless blind man. He swore to Nilah that he will protect her. He swore that nothing and no one will ever hurt her.

And he failed.

“...I killed tiger that slaughter hundred of men...I was at war and I killed Samurai with my bare hands. I fought with dead, with bravest woman by my side.” He held her hand and laid it on his chest over his heart. She must know how serious he was. “Your father can come and try to take you away from me. He will fail.”

That memory crushed his will to live. He deserves to die, because he failed her.

He lied to her.

Fist collide with his chin and crush him to the cold ground. He lay on his back breathing heavily and trying not to lose consciousness. He heard Harlan’s furious breath and heavy footsteps stomping around him in half circle. Like wolf and his pray.

“No...” he tried to stand up but Harlan kicked him in to the ribs “She is not yours!” he coughs and spat blood in the cold grass.

“She will never leave me again.” His sanity was slipping between his fingers like sand.

Yeong shin stood up and tried to straighten up himself as best as he can.

... He killed a lot of wolfs and tigers....

“She is not yours and never was.” Hot blood was dripping from his lips but he didn’t care. He wanted to spit in the face of that bastard. “You are shameful brother. You let your father sell her like a thing. You are her brother! You are the one who should protect her!”

His legs were trembling and he felt tears slipping down his face. Brothers should protect their siblings no matter what.

“I will protect her. From life with scum!”

And here it was. Yeong shin heard creak of a sword. It was sound of heavy thick sword pulled out of the scabbard.

He closed his eyes and imagined Nilah before his eyes. He saw her sitting in the grass with neighbour’s kids with flower wreath on her head. Smiling and telling stories.

He heard sword flying through the air towards him. He can’t do anything. His hands were empty so he could only prepare himself for deathly hit.

Instead of pain he heard metal loudly rings when collide with another.

“I don’t need your protection brother.” Nilah’s voice cut through the darkness. It was a long time since her voice was so firm and cold.

It was voice of fighter.

Her sword was standing in the way of Harlan’s, saving Yeong shin’s life.

~

When Harlan was beating Yeong shin, she crawl unnoticed into the house to get her sword. Her brother was too occupied with his victim that he wasn’t paying attention to her. He still saw her as a little weak sister he could beat whenever he wants to.

But she changed since he saw her last time.

She was soldier.

And she fights the death.

She bites her lip and held tight grip on arrow that was still in her shoulder and rip it out.

Wound starts to bleeding heavily but she almost didn’t feel the pain. She saw only Yeong shin facing her brother and sword aiming on his neck.

Nilah step in the way and cross her sword with brother’s.

“You will never touch him again!” she growls like wild animal. Harlan was surprised by strength of her resistance.

Nilah pushed against him and with quick stab made deep cut across his cheek, even cutting of tip of his ear with it. Crimson liquid runs down his shocked face.

She knows that she has no time. She must defeat him before lose too much blood. She already felt her fingers cold and weak.

“Don’t fight me sister!” Harlan warned her through gritted teeth. “We can go home and rule our land. Together.” Something in his voice trembled with desperation.

“This is my home, Harlan.” She held her sword tighter. She was grateful that Beom Pal bring her belongings so she can fight with weapon she knows.

Harlan attacks her again with anger in his face. Their swords collide with deafening crack. It was so quick that Nilah can only think about pain in her arms and guard Yeong shin who collapsed to the grass holding his bleeding face.

He will be good. His wounds weren’t that bad. He just needs to rest and cold compress.

Another hard hit of Harlan’s sword made her fall to her knees. She was trying so hard to resist, but her arms were shaking with weakness. Her world starts to weirdly swinging.

She knows she must win. She must win for Yeong shin. But she needs to win quickly.

“Harlan, you are my brother and I love you. I missed you, but I made my choice. I belong here” she spoke as calm as she could, to soothe the monster inside her brother.

But it was like oil to fire. Harlan’s face was suddenly red and his eyes sparks with anger his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

“You are liar!” he shouts to her face. “if you loved me, you would come back home. You choose to be just some ordinary soldier, you choose to fight against monsters and you choose him instead of me!” he tried to attack Yeong shin again, but Nilah catch his arm.

Hard blown to her face get her to knees. At firs she was shocked because she cannot breathe. But it was Harlan heavy weight what woke her up. His body collide with hers and she falls backwards to the grass. She heard Yeong shin screaming over loud buzzing in the ears.

Pain was overwhelming.

Harlan tangle fingers into her hair and another hard blown makes her cry.

“...please! I beg you...let her go!” Yeong shin was desperately calling her name and begging for her life.

She saw his fist preparing for another hit, when suddenly, out of nowhere came arrow and pierced Harlan upper arm.

He quickly stood up trying to find the archer. It wasn’t that hard.

Nilah wiped blood from her eyes and search for her saviour. She still heard ringing in her ears but she still heard him loud and clear.

“If you hit her again, I will have to kill you, pretty boy.”

She only saw silhouette. It was tall man standing on rooftop of their house with his bow ready to shoot again.

There was snap of a twig and another man appeared from the shadows of the forest.

Nilah stood up but her legs were weak. She didn’t know who these men were, but they saved their lives.

Harlan’s face was suddenly calmer.

“I give you last chance Nilah.”

She made her way to Yeong shin who was trying to find her, his fingers were trembling when he finally grasps her palm, puling her into comforting embrace.

“I’m sorry Nilah, I should protect you” he whispered desperately to her ear.

“I’m all right” she leans on him, because of wave of nausea. Nilah blinked few times trying to focus, but her view was little blurry.

“Are you?” Harlan laughed with cruelty. “You feel it already?”

Nilah gasped for air when she realised that she can’t control her hands. Her fingers were ice cold and numb.

“What have you done?” it was just weak whisper but Harlan heard her.

“Come with me and I will give you antidote” he held little glass phial with victorious smile.

“Antidote? You poisoned me?” Nilah can’t believe it, but she knows, felt, it is true. Her body was weakening in strange way. Her hands were already lifeless and her face was tingling like there was thousands of ants running just under her skin. “But how...” she realised it sooner than she finished the sentence. “that arrow...” cruel coldness creeps into her flesh. “Harlan, how could you?”

Harlan’s lips have triumphant smirk, but it was his eyes that betrayed him. He was the one who was losing.

Nilah’s legs lose the fight and she collapsed to the ground, pulling Yeong shin down with her. His face was desperate but he tried to fight with it. With desperation, anger and fear. His lips were in tight line and eyes glossy with tears.

Mysterious man on rooftop was silent and still aiming at Harlan who was standing aside.

“You just need to come with me. I will be good I swear.”

But Nilah wasn’t listening to him. She had her eyes locked on Yeong shin. He held her in his arms and it was the most comforting feeling. She wanted to touch his face, to cares his chin, but her hands were weakly laying in her lap.

“You must go with him. Save yourself” he whispered with broken voice and tenderly kissed her cold lips. He tried to be brave, but his heart ache like no wound ever aches. He’s been through a lot but nothing ever hurt like this. Like lonely heart.

“You! Swear on your life that, you never hurt her again!” he shouts at Harlan and his face was full of pain.

Nilah closed her eyes because for the first time she doesn’t want to see his face. She doesn’t want to see the misery. He will be alone again.

Harlan made his way to them, carefully watching their mysterious guard. He kneels next to Nilah and looks at Yeong shin. “I swear that I will treat her well.”

Nilah took a deep breath and single tear slip down her face.

“But I’m staying” It was single sentence that leaves both men shocked.

She was ready to die, but not ready to leave Yeong shin.

“What?” Harlan gasped; his movements frozen.

“No, Nilah...”

Nilah painfully gulps. Her whole body was like stone, cold and heavy.

“Do you remember the story about Mac Lír that our nana told us when we were kids?” she turned to her brother.

Harlan was confused, but nod.

“It was story about god who lost his love and suffer so much that his mother rather turned him into the stone.” She pressed her head more into Yeong shin’s embrace. She still felt his warm and his strong beating heart.

“Nilah, why are you telling me this?”

“/Because I rather die than feel that pain. I will not leave him. He is half of my soul. /” she spoke in their native language.

Harlan was speechless. He never thought his sister would be so brave and strong. He took her sword and pressed the handle to her palm. “/You deserve warrior’s death. Valhalla is waiting. /”

He kissed her forehead and whispered his goodbyes in ancient language. But Nilah throws her sword on the ground.

“I’m not heading to the Valhalla. That’s not afterlife I want.”

Harlan gasped for air. Warrior’s death and afterlife in Valhalla, feasting with old gods was everything. All their life has just this purpose. And she was giving it up, for what?

“I want to be with Yeong shin. I can wander thousand worlds or thousand lives just to be with him again.”

Harlan stood up and made his way into the darkness, leaving his sister dying on the ground.

“/Be it! /”

“No, stop!” Yeong shin cried out loud. He was maybe blind, but he knows Harlan was leaving with only chance to cure Nilah. He can’t believe that he will disappear and left his sister die. He just can’t accept it. It just can not happen.

*Crack*

He froze when he realised what that sound was.

Harlan throws phial with cure on the ground and crack it with his heavy boot.

It was like someone suck all air from his lungs. He cannot breathe, he cannot blink. He just held Nilah in his weak arms.

And Harlan was gone.

He disappeared in the shadows of the forest just as he appeared. Leaving misery and pain behind him.

“No...” Yeong shin was shaking. He held Nilah and can’t do nothing.

“I’m sorry. I can’t leave” she whispered weakly.

“You will be all right...just...” he sobs, hot tears run down his face.

He knows that someone was close. Someone who shoot Harlan before. Someone must help him!

„Yeong shin…I... I can’t feel you. “She whispered weakly. Her body was trembling in his arms. Laid down on the ground in his tight embrace. Tears slipping from the corner of her eyes and soaking into her hair.

„I’m here“ he choked, hating himself for being weak. He wanted to be strong for both of them. But how could he, when his dearest person, his love was dying in his arms. Cruel venom slowly stealing her from him. „I still hold you. “

„Thank you, for…“ she closed her eyes swallowing heavily.

„Don’t talk, save your strength.“ Tear slip down his face disappearing between his lips. How could his eyes cry and not to be able to see her? For the last time. He wold give up everything to see her. Just for a short moment, to remember her as best as he could.

„...thank you for loving me“ her trembling fingers touch his face gently but clumsily. She was loosing her fight against the poison. „You were the best thing that happened to me in my whole life. My dearest…“ she coughs and when he kissed her, her lips taste like blood.

“Help me...please! Someone!” it was desperate shout into darkness. But if someone hear him, what’s the point? Only cure that can help her was slowly soaking into dirt. “Nilah please…Don’t go, where I cant follow you.”

He heard loud footsteps and held Nilah closer. She whimpered and her body in his arms was limp. Someone approached them and squeezed his shoulder almost painfully.

It was footsteps of two man. He heard their heavy boots and heavy breaths.

Pair of hands tried to take Nilah from him but he was holding her, tightly pressed to the chest.

“Yun Lee? What are you doing here?” Nilah whispered weakly. Yeong shin didn’t know who that man was, but when he heard second man speak, his heart almost stops.

“Let her go” That wasn’t possible. He didn’t hear him five years and still it was like yesterday.

“You look like shit, kid.”

“Byung Chul?”

[sapphicomenn]

WELCOME TO MY THOUGHTS WHILE REWATCHING THE MCU IN TIMELINE ORDER: THOR

it was a dark and stormy night when padme, an old man, and a beautiful nerd named darcy a find bright light in the sky with thunder and s giant tornado in it. AND CHRIS HEMSWORTH HOLY SHIT

STORYTELLING WITH ODIN ABOUT A FIGHT WITH ICE CREAM TROLLS. frosty the snow man is angry about it

GLOWY CUBE

agard. sounds like ass guard. baby thor and loki are adorable. story telling ended up being fairytail for children. WINGED HELMET

LOKI LOKI LOKI LOKI LOKI LOKI

ah yes. the hammer named MILJinoNOR made in the heart of a star. ohshit walls got frosty. AMBUSH

“i swear, i swear, i sWEAR!” SHUSH IT AND GET TO FIGHTING. YALL GOT FROSTY BOYS INVADING ASS GUARD- oh fuck eye beam giant is OP.

thor is bloodthirsty, thats how you get the plot of the movie when you get turned mortal :/

loki is lovely i love him. he will never ever ever do anything wrong- oh hes starting drama between thor and frosty boys

WHOMST THE FUCK ARE THESE PEOPLE??

“and who proved wrong that a young maiden could be one of the fiercesr warriors.” “i did” “true, but i supported you, sif.” JSHSKHSKSJSKSJSJ

HORSES ON THE GLITTER GLASS BRIDGE. this is all beautiful wtf i love asgard. HEIMDALL- thor stfu dont shut loki down ya fucker. yall are bullying loki and then get shocked he turns evil?

MAGIC SWORD IS THE KEY TO ALL THE REALMS. HAHA ROUND THINGY GO SPINNY SPINNY. heimdall tells em the bridge to frosty realm might fuck em over and leave em to die.

“we shouldnt be here.” MAYBE BRING THAT UP AT THE PLANNING BIT, NOT THE ‘WE’RE HERE LETS GO EXPLORE’ BIT. DEEP VOICE IS SMEXY AS FUCK

“You’re nothing but a boy. who came to prove hinself a man.”

“know your place. brother.” STOP BEING MEAN TO LOKI, THOR :(

HAMMER GO B O N K ON FROSTY BOYS SKSNSKSKSK

LOKIS MAGIC IS AMAZING YOU’RE DOING GREAT BBY- laughing during a sword fight because fuck every other emotion righ- OHSHIT NVM HE GOT IMPALED ON A SPIKE OF ICE

GIANT SNOW BEAST GO BRRRR. THUNDER ON THESE FROST COVERED ASSES- whY is he still laughing he got a spike through his chest what the hell dude you good?

HOLYSHIT THOR JUST CHUCKED MILNNOR THROUGH THE BEASTS FUCKING HEAD LIKE A KNIFE THROUGH BUTTER

ODIN TO SAVE THE DAY AND GET HIS CHILDS ASS OUT OF TROUBLE. thor started a fucking war because of this fightboner jesus christ this child. SHOUTING MATCHES

daddys angry with his child- thor is unworthy this, unworthy that. AND BANISHED TO EARTH LIKE A FUCKING LOSER SKSHSKSJSJ

and back to padme’s modern time wE GO

HA HE GOT MERKED BY A TAZER

DARCY YOU ADORABLE CHILD

“How dArE YOu aTtAcK tHE SoN oF oDIN😡😡😡” hes like an angry puppy

body in a photo?? pog info??? WHY HAS HE BEEN HIT BY A CAR TWICE ALREADY

STAN LEE

COULSON

THOR IS FUCKING RIPPED. meanwhile is ass guard. loki snitched for a good reason. but nOoOoO thors, friends, blame loki.WHY ARE THEY BLAMING LOKI FOR BRING IN THE FROSTY BOYS- oh shit he can controll the snow cube. backstory for loki? mayhaps?- HOLYSHIT HES A SMURF

“the casket wasnt the only thing you took from jotunheim that day, was it?” HES ONTO YOU ODIN. odin literally kidnapped- oh no nvm loki as a baby was left for dead. I WANNA HUG LOKI SO BAD HES IN EMOTINAL DISSTRESS :(

“because i-i-i’m the monster, parents tell their children about at night?” LOKI BABY EVERYTHINGS GONNA BE OKAY

holyshit loki’s breakdown killed odin wtf. my man collasped onto the staircase

“this drink. i like it.” “i know its gre-“ “ANOTHER! *SHATTERING GLASS*”

“myeu muh? whats a myeu muh?” DARCY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SKSHSKHSKS

man coulson thats a dick move to snatch up all of padmes shit- AND DARCYS IPOD???

loki do be looking snazzy on the throne👀 good for him. look at these fucker friends of thor tryna make him inbanish thor :/

BOOKS- on norse myth.? yeah norse myth

padme is sus of thor, and almost got em into a car crash. “god i hope you’re not crazy.” oh wait till you aee what happens

ODINS TAKING A NAP FOR THOUSNDS OF YEARS OR SUMSHIT

frigga is tryna convice loki they meant well. kinda hard too ngl. damn shield has beefed up security around this fucking hammer

oh shit electrical thunder is fucking with the shield tech once thor showed up. RAIN AND MAGIC HUMMING- thor is kicking shield’s ass- COULSON- who the fuck chooses a bow and arrow to shoot a target when they had sniper rifle- barton- HAWKEYE NVM BADASS ARROW GUY IS AMAZING

oh shit thor found miljjnor. mudfight but make it less smexy. epic momentt pogg.. its totally gonna fail him so fucking bad its gonna be funny

told you so.

now hes yelling at the sky like an insane person

AND got arrested :I

poor heimdall having to watch this all like a sad sitcom. OLDMAN STFU

“look its myeu-muh!” darcy needs to be protected at ALL COST. ohmygod they think thor is a solider from enemy lines aIshsksjskks

LOKIII- oh shit hes telling thor everything went wrong bc him and that a truce was- NVM LOKI IS TRYING THE HAMMER. YOU GOT IT LOKI

old man go save thors stupid ass. redeem yourself. bar talk is somehow wholesome. oh shit thors gotta dip outta town bc oldman said so. he didint listen to odin and ended up starting a war- OH CRAP LOKI DID LET THE FROSTY BOYS INTO ASGARD.

heimdall knows loki is causing trouble. good for loki. HA RHE OLDMAN GOT FUCKING WASTED BY THE BOOZE LIKE A COWARD.

padme is so awkward around thor. shes in looovvveee. awh thor snatched up her genius book from shield. YIGHDRISLE is such an amazing name for a tree filled with planets and worlds

DUDE DONT SHAME THE MAN FOR STRESS EATING

LOKI KNOWS HEIMDALL SNITCHED AND LET FUCKER FRIENDS THROUGH. HOLYSHIT THEY FOUND THOR SLJSOSJSKSKS

thor knows loki lied- heimdall knows loki let in the frosty boys, and is currently frozen soild by that blue cube thingy. AND NOW THE OP METAL LAZERBEAM BASTARD IS ON EARTH

OH GOD A SPEAR THROUGH THE THROAT MUST HURT LIKE A MF- SIF DONT DIE

LAZERBEAM STOP BLOWING UP BUILDINGS

dude things were getting blown up left and right but suddenly thor’s plot armor engaged and a car just flips over him and instead of going boom. standoff between lazerface and thor- whomst shall win? find out next week on: HOLYSHIT THE NORSE GODS EXIST

loki just watched thor try to give up his life and now lazerface is leav- FUCK NVM IT BITCH SLAPPED THOR SKSHSJSJSJSKKSKSJ. oH now it leaves

hammer go brrr soon? HAMMER GO BRRRRRR

PADME SAVE YOURSELF THOR JUST GOT POWERED THE FUCK UP

“oh my god” YOU JUST SAW A METAL MECH SHOOT A LAZER OUT ITS FACE AND FOUR PEOPLE IN VIKING ARMOR FIGHT. ARE YOU STILL SHOCKED???

LAZERFACE GO BOOM. THORS BACK BABYY

oh shit the frosty boys are on asgard- HEIMDALL NEEDS TO UNFREEZE AND WORK ITS MAGIC LIKE NOW

oh god the animation for some dead frosty boys got so noticable that was horrible.

TIME TO GO KICK LOKI’S ASS SKSKSJS- OHFUCK FRIGGA NOO. OHSHIT LOKI JUST MURDERED LAUGHY THE FROST KING.

lokis “ohshit thors back” face is amazing

loki hun what the fuck are you doing- stop tryna destory shit like a hero.

“I NEVER WANTED THE THRONE. I WANTED TO BE YOUR EQUAL!” my heart is torn :((

brothers fighting while a energy tree builds around him? sure why not. ohfuck loki got his ass handed to him- THOR WHY DID YOU LEAVE THE HAMMER ON HIM LIKE THAT SKSHSKSJSJSK

THOR WOKE ODIN UP BY VREAKING THE FUCKING RAINBOW BRIDGE

ODINS AWAKE AND SAVE EM AGAIN

IM CRYING LOKI JUST WANTED TO MAKE ODIN PROUD AND HE SHUT EM DOWN LIKE THAT. ODIN YOU FUCKING SUCK

awh this is making me sad i dont like this sad ending this sucks so much. loki deserved better then to die knowing odin hated him :(

heimdall is out of a job now that the bifrost is broken haha loser.

NEXT MOVIE: THE AVENGERS

ignore the misspells and the bad grammar its almost two AM by the time i finished watching and writing this up

[writeawayjake]

CHAPTER 34

Red Jared

 Ensorcelled steel struck darkened crystal in a crash. Shards of pink crystal shot in every direction, showering all nearby. The sword's light flashed in a blinding display and for a brief moment all was silent. 

   Perplexed, the Thief King let his knife slowly wander from her throat. 

   "You… you missed!? How the fuck did you miss!? I'm right in front of you." He shouted.

   As if in response the tense silence was broken by a cacophony of otherworldly shrieks and screams. All about them a whirlwind raged, whipping debris this way and that. 

   From the very air itself materialized the all to familiar black mass and slowly from within it's smokey depths emerged those piercing red eyes. 

   Clenching his jaw, Jared adjusted the grip on his sword and crouched in a more proper stance, ready to take on the foul entity that had haunted his nights and tried to drown him in mead. In truth he had hoped just hitting the crystal would have killed it but this is where hoping usually got him. 

   Before he could manage another thought he felt a gust of wind slam him in the chest, taking all the air from his lungs, and like that, the world was dark.

   Jared found himself in the same dark void he'd been in before Skye had saved him. Yet again he reached for the sword only to find it wasn't there. Panic began to make a home in his chest, 

   "I can't beat this thing, I can't win." He thought. His breath quickened as he tried to think of what to do. Falling to his knees in a heap, all his hopes for victory began to fade - every chance to help the people of this town, to stop Finn, to save Skye, to beat the demon… all gone.

   Yesssss, the demon's voice hissed. You're no hero, you're no warrior. You are broooooken, youuuu are a coward. You let them down, youuuu let them DIE!

   All he could do was cower there, feeling like a child as the voice screamed down at him. He felt himself shrink as tears filled his eyes.

   You thought you could kill meeeee? I am eternal, I am a part of you, I will always be with youuuu, I AM WHAT YOU DESERVE!!!

   An unseeable hand slammed into Jared's throat, lifting him off his feet and beginning to strangle the life from him once again. His legs kicked and squirmed, his hands searched for an arm to hold on to or attack but they merely swung at air. 

   It felt as if his head was going to explode as he struggled to grasp for air. His limbs began to go numb and started to tingle and his vision blurred around the edges. Jared began to resign himself to his fate, to accept the death and darkness that was coming when, to his surprise, something began to illuminate the darkness around him. A figure wreathed in white light began to take shape, heavy, rounded shoulders and a bald head, thick arms crossed over a broad chest, a face he hadn't seen in a lifetime. 

   A gentle voice filled the air asking in a sad and fatherly tone,

   "Is this the man you've chosen to be son?" 

   "Dad?" Jared choked. 

   "You've forgotten yourself boy. Have you forgotten everything I taught you? Find a way to win..." The apparition paused solemnly. "You've forgotten us."

   The demonic hand loosened it's grip and Jared fell in a heap.

   "No!" Jared cried out holding his throat. "No! I never stopped-"

   "You've forgotten Jared." A different voice echoed, this one soft and familiar. As it reverberated through the void, a figure took shape beside his father, one who wore his mother's face. 

   "Mom? No! No I haven't forgotten!" He shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks.

   "You're stronger than this." She said in a heartbroken sigh.

   "You've forgotten who you were." Boomed a third disembodied voice, this one brash and boisterous. A swaggering hero took his place amongst Jared's family. 

   "Who we were." Chimed in a crotchety old Dwarf accompanied by a mute archer.

   "No! I haven't forgotten!" Jared cried out in frustration. "I've carried you with me every day…"

   "Exactly." Said a final voice. This one sounded of autumn breezes and spring birdsongs. Like home and hearth. Like peace and stillness. 

   Out of the darkness, wreathed in white light, the image of his peace took shape. A freckled, curly haired, I'll tempered goddess that had set his bones, stitched his wounds, and mended his heart time and again. 

   "We are more than sad memories." She said solemnly. "We all felt our own purposes - other than just being your motivation to drink. We all had our reasons and responsibilities."

   "But I - I was supposed to protect you…"

   "And we were supposed to protect you." She replied emphatically. "So how dare you feel sorry for us."

    Before he knew what else to say, the figure of his father approached the demon and growled, 

   "Get. Away. From my son," before reaching out and grasping the beast by it's wrist. 

   With a deafening shriek the demon recoiled in pain. It's smokey flesh, if you could even call it that, burned away at his touch.

   Heeee is MINE! It screamed.

   The demon's screeching filled the void. The sounds of dying horses, screaming children, and dying men, the sounds of horror and pain, despair and death rattled the walls of the void.

    "He is ours!" His ghost called out in unison.

    I WILL HAVE WHAT IS MIIIIIINE!!! The beast roared, deafening him. It's shadowy mass growing, enveloping the space around him, pressurizing the very air. It made to strike against the glowing collection of specters. Against his family.

   He could see a fist strike against a glowing white wall in front of them. The creature shrieked in pain as an awful sizzling could be heard. 

   Again and again the beast struck against their barrier, each strike creating another crack in it's facade. Soon the walls of their fortress began to crumble around them. Once again Jared's family would be buried. Once again he would be helpless.

    HE IS MIIIIIINE! MINE! MINE! MINE!!!  The demon wailed as it struck again and again.

    But over it's pounding and screeching, Jared could hear, clear as day, the voice of his beloved call out.

     "He is mine… and you will not touch him." It said, so soft and comforting, even as the world crumbled around her.  

   Tears burned his eyes and the lump in his throat was almost insurmountable. 

   "Ny - Nyah!" He shouted, his voice cracking and tears flowing freely. All she did was smile. They all just looked on and smiled.

   "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he bawled

   "Don't forget us Jared." They all called in unison, their light beginning to fade into the darkness, snuffed out by this demon of his. 

   It continued it's shrieking, bashing against the ethereal shield in front of it. Thrashing and wailing, sending shockwaves echoing throughout the void. The noise filled his ears, building and building. It was too much, it was all too much. The tears in his eyes the lump in his throat the pounding in his ears, the guilt, shame, horror, anger, and pain all flooding his mind. His mind, his body, his senses were all at their limits, all of them stretched thin, packed full, seems bursting, scales tipped. It was as if he felt everything at once. All of it overflowing and crashing in waves of panic and desperation as he tried to act, tried to be useful, to help, to do something, anything. 

    Until suddenly, all was silent. All was clear. Suddenly, he knew. It was as if a light had been lit within him, a resolution that could not be undone. Swallowing the lump in his throat Jared took a deep breath, letting it out felt as if he were dropping an anchor from his chest. He would never forget again

   "I know who I am…" he muttered to himself amongst the silence. 

   You are NOTHING!!! Shrieked the demon. 

   "I know who I am." He repeated, making his way towards the swirling malevolent mass. 

   The wall of specters all turned their heads and gazed at him with loving smiles, his father nodded in respect and approval, his mother smiled with tears in her eyes, and his friends all grinned their old grins. Nyah's ghost simply mouthed the words, 

   "I love you." 

   As he walked past them a sudden gust of air and a mighty wind enveloped him, the demons teeth gnashing and eyes burning with rage. 

   Without a word the swirling mass of dark smoke began to coalesce. The howling gale, being sucked into one singular spot. Taking on yet another familiar shape. Dark robes and blackened armor, covered in archaic spells. A twisted and grotesque crown laying atop a pale bald head. It's skin a deathly pale pallor, blue veins snaking their way all around beneath it.

    Once again he and the Dark Lord himself stood facing each other in a blackened rotunda and once again the bastard's cackling filled the air. 

    "You are doomed boy you must know this." The Dark Lord said, his voice like a knife sliding along a dinner plate. Jared had never forgotten that voice. It had been in many a nightmare of his for the last few years. "You merely killed my body, but I am eternal, I am death! I am the darkness! I am your nightmares made manifest, and I! Am a part of you."

    Without a word Jared smiled, and his smile slowly turned into a giggle, then a chuckle, then a laugh, and before he knew it he was hunched over howling. Tears once again filled his eyes but these were not of sorrow, he was truly hysterical.

    "What could possibly be so funny?" The Dark Lord asked, deflated.

    Between laughs Jared managed, " You. Haha. Y-youhoohoo bahahaha." He had to take a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I've already killed you before haha and-and-and nowhowhowhow, now you're back. Hahaaaaaaaa. Now I can take out all the crap of these last few years on you all over again hahahahaha."

    Taken aback the Dark Lord stood there, all the regality, confidence, and gusto taken out of him. 

    "I-" he began before a fist slammed into his nose, knocking him to the floor. A stream of darkened sludge-like blood trickled from one nostril, to the dark monarch's shock. 

    "See, back then… back then I didn't know how to kill ya. And for that you gave me this scar on my shoulder. I rushed in headfirst like a stupid kid because well," he looked back to Nyah. "I had someone I needed to get back to rather quickly… but now! Now I know." Jared chuckled, wagging his finger before kicking the robed figure in the gut, knocking his crown off.

    "You wanted me to get dark? I'll show you dark," he growled, stomping the back of his enemy's knee. 

    The Dark Lord screamed out in pain, shrieking like a man who had never been hit before.

    "Killing you the first time got me the name Dawnbringer." He said kneeling down. Seeing a look of terror take hold in those old red eyes he continued. "See, I know who I am now. It took me some time, some blood, lotta mead. I thought I had to choose between being a good man or… well this, but you've helped me see. Because of you I know I can be both. I can defend the helpless... but I can still enjoy punishing the wicked." 

   Quickly and violently Jared grabbed the dark king's collar, shaking with barely restrained fury. Reaching down once again, this time he found his wayward sword. Slowly unsheathing it, he made sure his enemy saw it's glowing blade, made sure it burned into his eyes. Slowly he began moving the blade of his holy sword to the quivering tyrant's throat before continuing. "You took that from me for a while I'll admit. That choice - that... sense of self, and for a long long time I wasn't sure what I was. But we all have a choice and now, now I'm gonna choose to show you why they called me Red Jared…"

@emdop @create-and-procrastinate

Thought you deserved some more lol

[purplecloaks]

Custom Made, Part Fifty-Six

Bjorn x OC, Ubbe x OC, Hvitserk x OC, Ivar x OC

Everything tag: @squirrelacorngliterfarts @kawennote09

Custom made tag: @kingbouji3 @maybe-a-winchester @sdcyumyum

           “Ivar, Ingrid, and Hvitserk Lothbrok. Why did you not return to Kattegat?” King Harald says when we join him in his Great Hall. Hvitserk and I sit at one of the tables and Ivar stands in front of Harald to talk.

           “You don’t need the seer to know that Ubbe and I fell out. We disagreed about many things. But in the end, Hvitserk agreed with me, and Ubbe sailed alone to Kattegat. And that is why we’re here.” Ivar says.

           “A good choice. A good choice. Surely you all remember Astrid? She is my queen now.” Harald says.

           “I am happy for both of you.” Ivar says.

           “Oh, thank you, Ivar.” Astrid says.

           “So, do I understand that you and your warriors will support me when I attack Kattegat?” Harald asks.

           “Straight to it. I like it. Yes, we will.” Ivar says.

           “But only if Ivar is made king.” Hvitserk says. Ivar looks at Hvitserk like he did something wrong. I hold Hvitserk’s hand.

           “You know that I have my own plans for that kingdom.” Harald says.

           “Of course, of course. And that is why we are here. And what I think my dear brother is trying to say is that, in the long term, what is to stop you from ruling Kattegat when I am dead and gone? How long can that be?” Ivar says. I shift uncomfortably. “I’m not a healthy person. I’m a cripple.”

           “Ivar.” I say softly. He waves me off. Hvitserk rubs my arm.

           “But your brother Hvitserk?” Harald says.

           “All that matters to the both of us is to reclaim the kingdom that was torn from us by that murderous bitch, Lagertha. We want to be in an alliance with you, to make that happen. And soon.” Ivar says.

           “You have a prisoner. I have heard of this man. Where is he?” Harald says.

           “Bring the Christian!” Ivar shouts. Two men bring in Heahmund. “On his knees.” They force him to fall onto his hands and knees. “Bishop Heahmund.” Ivar smacks him with his crutch.

           “What’s the point of him? Why don’t you just kill him?” Harald asks.

           “Because he is a great warrior. I’ve seen how he fights with my own eyes. And I admire great warriors.” Ivar says.

           “He will fight for us?” Harald asks.

           “Maybe. If he doesn’t want to get crucified.” Ivar says.

           We all laugh.

           “The Lord rules me: I shall want for nothing.” Heahmund starts. Ivar grabs the back of his head to silence him.

           “No, no, no. Let him continue.” Harald says.

           “And He has set me in a place of good pasture. And fed me by the water’s shore. He led me over the ways of righteousness for His name. Yet I now go in the midst of the shadow of death,  I fear no evil, for You are with me, Lord. Your rod and Your staff have comforted me.” Heahmund says.

           “What did he say?” Harald asks.

           “Ah, he is praying to his god.” Ivar says.

           “A fat lot of good that will do him!” Harald says.

           We all laugh.

           Later, Ivar and I walk through the town. He takes out the Bishop’s sword and cuts a shark in half.

           “That’s a fine sword.” Harald says from a little ways away.

           “It is the Bishop’s sword. He must have paid the dwarves a great deal to make it because it is a magical sword. The metal is much stronger than ours. I saw him kill many men with it. And yet, never blunted, but continued to bite. And now, it’s mine.” Ivar says.

           “To have such a sword gives you great advantage. Think of Odin’s spear.” Harald says.

           “And now think of Ivar’s sword.” Ivar says. I giggle. We start walking again.

           “What is it you really want, Ivar Lothbrok? Hmm?” Harald asks.

           “Revenge. I dream of the many ways that I can make Lagertha suffer before I kill her. I want revenge because…because she killed my beautiful mother.” Ivar says.

           “What of the kingdom? What of Kattegat?” Harald says.

           “It is not so important to me.” Ivar says.

           “But surely your brother will…” Harald starts.

           “I said, it is not so important to me. What is it about the word ‘king’ that makes even reasonable people behave like idiots, huh?” Ivar says. He turns and walks away. I quickly follow. “A, how is married life? You are married to Astrid, Lagertha’s lover. I hope she’s worth it.” Ivar says before we get too far away.

           “Love can we speak?” I ask.

           “Of course.” He smiles at me. “What is it?”

           “Do you really think you will not live long?” I ask.

           “Eh, I don’t know. Only the gods know.” He says.

           “I didn’t like it when you said that.” I say.

           “I’m sorry.” Ivar kisses my forehead.

           “What of our children? They will never rule Kattegat?” I say.

           “Who knows.” He says mischievously.

           Later we are in Bishop Heahmund’s prison cell again.

           “There is going to be a war. A war that will make me the King of Kattegat, my father’s kingdom. A war against the usurper, Ragnar’s first wife, Lagertha, who killed my mother in order to be Queen. And, of course, a war between brothers.” Ivar says. I shift uneasily at that. “Bishop, you have a choice. Fight alongside me, or I will kill you.”

           “What are your wars to me?” Heahmund asks.

           “A way of staying alive.” Ivar says.

           “I’m not afraid to die for my faith.” Heahmund says.

           “But you are not being asked to do that. I am not asking you to renounce your faith or to fight against Christians. All I’m asking you is to kill more of those you call heathens.” Ivar says.

           “Why do you offer me this choice?” Heahmund asks.

           “Because I am jealous of you. I would like to be like you. Strong and whole. A great warrior. That is why I saved you. And that is why I want you to fight alongside me.” Ivar says. I wrap my arms around him.

           “My love.” I whisper.

           “Shh…it’s okay.” Ivar says.

           I’m sitting with Ivar outside when Hvitserk comes up to us. He hugs me from behind and I cup his cheek.

           “Will he fight with us?” Hvitserk asks.

           “I have really no idea.” Ivar says.

           “You didn’t discuss with me the arrangement you made with King Harald.” Hvitserk says.

           “What arrangement?” Ivar asks.

           “That you would be king, but that afterwards the crown would pass down to him first, and not to me.” Hvitserk says.

           “That is because, Hvitserk, it is not really an arrangement. It is just words, huh?” Ivar says. He pours Hvitserk a drink and Hvitty takes it. “Who is to say that he will not try to kill me? Or that I might try to kill him? Or that you might try to kill the both of us, for that matter?”

           “Then why even pretend there is an arrangement?” Hvitserk asks.

           “It suits everyone. For the moment. But then again, everything can also change in a moment. Right?” Ivar says.

           “I don’t know, Ivar. I wish I could believe you. I wish I knew who you really were.” Hvitserk says. He starts to walk away.

           “Ah, you know who I really am, Hvitserk. I’m your crippled brother. You used to pull me on a sledge through the streets of Kattegat. Remember? Nothing has really changed except though were only childish games.” Ivar says.

           “What is it you really want, Ivar?” Hvitserk asks.

           “I want to be the most famous man who ever lived.” Ivar says.

           “Even greater than Father?” Hvitserk asks.

           “Much greater than Father. In time, the name of Ragnar Lothbrok will fade and be forgotten. No one will ever forget Ivar the Boneless.” Ivar says.

           “Am I to be your Queen?” I ask when Hvitserk leaves.

           “Of course. You will always be my Queen, Ingrid.” Ivar kisses me.

           Later that night, we are all in the Great Hall, feasting. Hvitserk stands up.

           “To the overthrow of the witch, Lagertha, and to the liberation of Kattegat!” He yells.

           Everyone cheers.

           “Skol!” Harald raises his cup.

           “So, when do we attack?” Ivar asks after everyone is settled.

           “I will summon my jarls. And my ships still need to be repaired and made ready, as do yours. But when all this is done, we should have a fleet of at least 70 ships.” Harald says.

           “There’s a full moon tonight. Let us say that we will attack in two moons’ time.” Ivar says.

           “I agree.” Harald says.

           “Skol.” Ivar says.

           “Skol.” Harald says.

           “It will be strange for you to return to Kattegat as a queen.” Harald says to Astrid. “Skol.” They clink their cups together. Harald stands up. “And here is to our sacred agreement! Which if any man breaks, he will deserve to die! Skol!” He starts singing.

           I lean into Ivar. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

           “Calm, my love.” He kisses my cheek.

           I sit with Ivar outside while he is eating. They bring Heahmund to us. Everyone’s shouting at him. I feel bad for him even if he is Christian.

           Ivar shushes everyone. “Now we decide whether you’ll fight with us, or whether I kill you.” He picks up a knife and points it towards Heahmund. “Nothing is keeping you alive but me.”

           “Why don’t you give me the knife?” Heahmund asks.

           My heart stutters.

           Ivar hands him the knife. Heahmund takes it. He turns towards the crowd with it pointed at himself.

           “Die!” A man screams in Heahmund’s face. “Are you afraid? Do it. Coward.”

           Heahmund grabs the man and stabs him in the neck with the knife. He spits on him. He throws the knife on the body.

           Ivar laughs. “I think he will fight with us!” Everyone cheers.

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 15

Very briefly/mildly NSFW.  Read the earlier chapters:  Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4.  Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7.  Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.  Chapter 12.  Chapter 13.  Chapter 14. 

Aedion strode through the streets of Orynth, seething.  Ten days, he’d been here.  Ten days, and not a gods-damned thing had been accomplished.  For some reason, he had expected the rebels to be organized, or at least vaguely on the same page, but their infighting was going to destroy them.  

He had made some headway with Darrow, whom he thought had been pleased to see him when Aedion had appeared at his door unannounced the morning after his arrival in Orynth.  Darrow had never had the warm, open manner of King Orlon, but at least when the King had been alive he had been pleasant and reasonably kind, if reserved.  In the months after the assassinations, he had been trying so desperately to keep the country from falling that his hidden strength and passion had been forced to the forefront.  But now, he was a shadow of his former self - cold, withdrawn, looking only to survive.  Continuing on only out of love for a memory.

Aedion had thought he was making some headway with him.  They had met several times at Darrow’s house, Aedion slowly laying out more and more of his plan.  It all hinged on him gaining control over what remained of Terrasen’s army; it would be far easier to keep Adarlan in her own borders if he followed orders and rallied the Bane. Yet this was what Darrow had argued against most strenuously.

“They’re scattered all over the country, boy,” he had said dismissively in their last meeting two days prior.  “It will take months, and some of them will never agree to serve someone in that uniform, no matter who they’re related to.”

“I understand that,” Aedion had said patiently, “but the King knows that a large portion of them survived.  They will be hunted down and slaughtered -”

“They already have been,” Darrow had snapped.  “And the rest will see you coming for them as another attempt on their lives!  They will kill you, boy, before you can even explain yourself.”  Fear.  There was fear in those cold eyes, not for the members of the Bane but for Aedion himself.  

“I told you last week, sir, that I’m either coming out of Terrasen at the head of the Bane, or I’m not making it out alive.  I meant that.  The King will kill me if your men don’t.  With your support, sir, I’m certain they will at least listen to me.  At that point it’s up to them.”  He had shrugged, resigned to his fate at the hands of strangers.  “If I can’t convince them, I don’t deserve to lead them.”

That was when Darrow had agreed to introduce him to the surviving members of the Bane who were still living in Orynth, which had led to the meeting he had just left.  Bastards.  Rutting cowards.  They had looked at him, listened to him, seemed to believe him - and then told him pityingly that he was a fool.

“You’re only going to bring Adarlan down on us again,” auburn-haired Captain Seoras had said condescendingly.  “We’re just starting to rebuild.  Give it time, we’ll survive.”

“And is that why I just walked past three fresh bodies hanging?” Aedion had snarled in response.  “They’re still butchering our citizens, still sending them to Endovier to die for petty crimes.  If we can gain control-”

“But you can’t, Prince,” interrupted Major Ualam.  “You can’t get control of Adarlan’s forces, even if you somehow manage to rally ours.  We can’t have you sacrificing more Terrasen lives for a fool’s hope.”

A fool’s hope.  Those words were echoing in his brain as he prowled.  Aedion heard the unmistakable sound of a knife being drawn and turned down a seedy-looking alley where a couple of men were arguing.  They took one look at his hooded figure, sheathed their knives, and melted into the shadows.  Damn.  He could’ve used a good fight.  Sparring with the men charged with the so-called protection of the city wasn’t taking the edge off in the slightest.  It was taking all of his self-control not to gut the bastards, especially once he realized how active the butchering blocks still were.  

At least Clery was behind him.  He had met with him twice more, alone, and had finally discussed possible strategies.  It was Clery who had suggested he have someone go with him who would be trusted enough to give the scattered warriors pause.  Raedan, Dorsey, Osment, and Hirons would have to remain here.  There was too much risk in taking them, even though he was certain they would not betray him.  Raedan wasn’t going to like it.  And Aedion had no idea who he could convince to go with him.  Obviously Ualam and Seoras and the other men from tonight were out, and he was pretty certain Cathal would scoff as well.  After all, he hadn’t even bothered to show up for this meeting, though Darrow had invited all the remaining officers in Orynth.  That there were so few left in the city that they could fit in Darrow’s parlor was something Aedion didn’t even want to think about.

He needed to get out of his head.  He hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours for the past four nights, getting up and roaming the silent streets when he couldn’t remain still in his bed.  The more he moved, the more restless he got.  Likely he wouldn’t sleep at all tonight, at the rate he was going.  Abruptly he turned and headed back to the inn.  Maybe if he drank enough.  Or maybe, if that kitchen maid was still looking at him the way she had last night…

Raedan and Dorsey were sitting in the inn’s tavern, each with an arm around a woman.  It looked like Raedan was actually with the same one he’d had the night before, a first as far as Aedion knew.  He nodded at them and went to the bar, settling into the seat closest to the taps.  

An hour and who knew how much ale later, the kitchen maid whose name might have been Dolidh was leading him towards the stairs.  He vaguely hoped they were going to his room so he wouldn’t have to move too far afterwards, though at least for now the floor was still steady.  Dorsey had disappeared, and Raedan was deeply involved with the woman who was now seated quite happily on his lap.  He caught a vaguely familiar scent as they went past the door, but Dolidh ran a hand up his arm and he forgot everything but his need for release as they headed upstairs.

*****

Cathal looked up as a hand tapped on the bar to see Clery seating himself, looking irritated.  The former lord had gotten him this job once he had finally been able to get out of bed after Terrasen had fallen.  He had toyed many times with joining some of his fellows north of the Staghorns, but he still felt that he owed Clery, so he had stayed.  Even though there were parts of the city he still couldn’t bear to walk through, he had stayed.  

“What?” he asked, concerned, as he poured the brandy Clery ordered on the rare occasions he appeared here.  

“Why in Hellas’ name were you not at that meeting?”

“What meeting?” Cathal asked, baffled.  

“Darrow’s.  With Ashryver.  You told me you were willing to listen to his plan, but you can’t even bother to go to the damn meeting?”

“Clery, I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about.  Darrow had a meeting?”

Now Clery was looking more concerned than annoyed.  “You didn’t know about it?”  Cathal shook his head, still feeling out of his depth.  “Then why…” Clery stopped abruptly, grinding his teeth.  “Those bastards.”

Cathal looked down the bar.  It was empty aside from Baltair at the end, who was so deep in his cups a horse could’ve come in, sat next to him, and ordered a whisky and the old man would’ve just nodded hello to it and kept humming to himself.  Still, he kept his voice low.  “Will you tell me what is going on?”

Clery sighed, taking another sip of his brandy.  “You know Ashryver’s been meeting with Darrow.”  Cathal nodded.  “Well, he finally got through to him, enough that Darrow sent an invitation to all the remaining officers in Orynth.”

“All nine of us?” Cathal said drily.

“Evidently only eight of you.  The others met with him a couple of hours ago, and Seoras and Ualam did what Seoras and Ualam do.”

“Shit.”  Those cowardly pricks, too busy profiting off the invasion have any interest in actually taking the country back.  It pissed him off that they were still treated as officers, that Ualam actually outranked him.

“Right.  Of course the others didn’t dare push back once Ualam laid it down that Ashryver was a fool for even trying to rally the Bane.”

Cathal blew a breath out threw his nose.  “No doubt that’s why Darrow didn’t invite me.”

Clery tapped his glass thoughtfully.  “I think he did intend to, actually, but he was relying on the others to spread the word.”

“So Seoras or Ualam didn’t want me there.”  Clery nodded.  Cathal glanced at Baltair, then looked back at Clery.  “Where’s Ashryver now?”

“Who knows?  Maybe back at the Whispering Antlers?  That’s where they’ve been staying.”

Cathal grinned.  “Well, isn’t that convenient for us?”  Clery gave a bit of a smile. 

Twenty minutes later he had kicked Baltair out and was heading through the city, cursing Seoras and Ualam soundly under his breath.  It wasn’t that he didn’t understand whatever reservations they had had; any attempt to push Adarlan out of Terrasen seemed fraught with risk.  Most likely he’d just get them all killed.  Didn’t mean Cathal didn’t want to judge for himself.  Especially as he remembered Clery’s words to him from a few days earlier:  “Aedion lost everything, too, Cathal.  Don’t forget that.  He’s in the same position you and I are.”  Much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew it was true.

He entered the inn’s tavern just as a huge man with bright hair was disappearing through an interior door.  Weaving through the mostly-full tables, he headed after him when he heard his name called out.   Turning, he saw Ashryver’s young friend, Raedan, sitting at a table with a familiar pretty girl in his lap.  He picked his way over to him, studiously not looking at Kenna, who was playing with Raedan’s hair.  One of Clery’s employees, though he doubted the soldier knew it.

“Ashryver up in his room?” Cathal asked without preamble.

“Yeah, but I’d leave him be for a bit,” Raedan said.  

“I need to talk to him.”

“Just…trust me.  He’s in a foul mood, let him work some of that off.”  Kenna laughed, and Raedan kissed her shoulder before turning back to Cathal.  “Have a drink or something, he’ll probably be back down in a bit.”

Cathal turned and sat at the bar, barely touching the ale that appeared without him ordering it, glancing at the door to the stairs.  After what seemed like an eternity with no sign of the prince, he asked the bartender - another of Clery’s - what room Ashryver was staying in.  Ignoring Raedan, who was still watching him from that damn table, he headed up to the third floor.

Finding the room he pounded his fist once on the door then, not waiting for an invitation, tried the handle, which to his surprise gave immediately.  Half falling into the room, he pulled up abruptly at the sight of Ashryver’s pale ass moving as he thrust into some girl, the only visible parts of her being the fair legs and arms wrapped around him.  Judging by the sounds she was making, he was interrupting at a particularly inopportune moment, though he doubted she noticed as her moans turned into guttural cries.  Ashryver did, those bizarre eyes flicking to him before turning back to the girl underneath him, never even faltering in his movements.  Cathal backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him, then turning to lean back against the wall, listening to the girl climax.

Come to think of it, he should’ve picked up on the noise before he ever opened the door.  Gods-damned Ashryver.  Stupid prick, not even locking the door.  He banged his head once against the wall, then headed back downstairs.  Raedan and Kenna met him on the landing.  

“I told you,” Raedan said, his eyes dancing.

“You said he was in a bad mood,” Cathal snarled.  “You didn’t tell me he was fucking somebody.”

Kenna tried to stifle her laugh as Raedan led her past Cathal, but her hazel eyes were sympathetic when they met his.  He was surprised she was going to bed with Raedan.  That was decidedly not one of her jobs for Clery, who didn’t believe in whoring.  She must actually like the boy.  Damn them all to hell.  He was stuck relying on teenage boys still ruled by their cocks to save his country. Terrasen was doomed.

His ale was where he had left it, and he sniffed it briefly before downing half of it in one gulp.  He drained it in two more swallows, and the bartender passed him another.  He wondered how much he would have to drink to get that image, those sounds, out of his head.  

It had been two years, six months, and twenty four days since he had been with somebody.  Two years, six months, and twenty three days since Luthais had fallen during the first hour of that final battle.  In that time Cathal had remained faithful to both the lovers he lost to Adarlan, had not even touched someone with tenderness.

Somehow the sight of Ashryver mounting that girl brought everything he had buried for so long to the surface.  Muire’s screams as she was dragged to the butchering blocks echoed again in his ears.  He had never forgiven the handful of his men who knocked him unconscious to keep him from getting himself killed trying to rescue her.  Then not six months later he had dashed among the corpses on that battlefield, turning over body after body until he found Luthais, throat gaping open like a second mouth.  He didn’t remember much for weeks after that, still didn’t know how he’d made it off that battlefield and back to Orynth.

He had at least seen Muire buried.  He still didn’t know where Luthais had been lain.  If his body had been burned by the invaders, or if he was in some mass grave with all the others who had fallen that day.

The glass before him was empty without him realizing he had even taken a sip.  Ever since that night at Clery’s Luthais had been intruding on his thoughts again.  He’d managed to go months without thinking of either of them, as long as he stayed in the safe parts of the city.  Then Raedan had asked him that damn question.  Shit.  It all came back to Ashryver, that two-faced rutting bastard.

There was the scrape of a stool, and the bastard himself settled next to him.  Ashryver’s face was still flushed, and he smelled like sex and sweat and stale ale.  “What brings you here?” he rumbled, sounding exhausted.  

Cathal examined him more closely, noting the dark, almost bruised look under his eyes.  “You look like shit.”

“Seems like you went quite a bit out of your way just to tell me something I already know.”  He rubbed a broad hand through his hair and yawned widely.

“Go up and get some sleep.  We can talk tomorrow.”  Cathal didn’t know why he was feeling so charitable.

“Can’t sleep, might as well talk now.”  

Cathal looked around him.  The tavern had largely emptied out, and he recognized almost everybody who was left.  “What happened at the meeting?”

“Your cohorts made it clear that they think my assignment is doomed.  Like I didn’t know the odds were against me as it was.”  He gave a bleak laugh.  “Not a damn one of you is willing to help me, are you.  I just need an in.  That’s it.  Just someone the other soldiers will recognize so they’ll give me a chance.  But you’d all rather sit here and piss on my corpse.”

“Don’t lump me in with those pricks,” Cathal snapped.  The next four words fell out of his mouth, and then he couldn’t take them back.  “I’ll go with you.”

Ashryver looked at him, eyebrows up almost to his hairline.  “You?  You couldn’t even be bothered to come to the meeting, but you’ll travel all over the country with me?”  He signaled to the bartender.  “You wanted to walk out when you met me just last week.  Why the change of heart?”

It was a good question, and he didn’t want to say that it was Raedan’s unflinching dedication that had swayed him.  “Maybe I just want to watch you fail with my own two eyes.”

Ashryver’s lips twitched as he glanced at him sideways.  “Maybe that’s not all you want to watch.”

Cathal felt the heat rise in his face.  “Not my fault you’re too rutting stupid to lock your door.”

Ashrvyer laughed.  Picking up the glass that had just arrived, he held it up.  “To rutting stupidity and almost certain failure.”

With a wry shrug, Cathal clinked his glass against the proffered one, the noise surprisingly loud in the mostly empty room.  “Nothing like an optimistic start to all this.”

*****

The bell on the bakery door jangled and Delaney looked up from where she was restocking the cookies, alone in the store front for the first time all day.  The previous half hour had been a whirlwind of customers and the case was nearly empty.  It was the tall, gray-eyed girl from a couple of weeks ago.  Cherise.  Her face lit up when she saw Delaney.

“So this is where you work!” Cherise exclaimed, a broad smile spreading.  “I haven’t been in here in ages, do you still have those puffy things filled with chocolate?”

“Not today, but we do make something like that.”  

“Let me guess, you bake too, right?”  Delaney nodded.  “I figured.  You’re probably great.  You seem like one of those people who’s just good at everything.”

Delaney snorted.  “You decided this after talking to me for five minutes?”

“I decided it the moment you asked Brigitte if she’d fuck somebody without a head.”  Naise had chosen that unfortunate moment to walk in with a load of rolls and she stopped abruptly, looking from Cherise to Delaney with a horrified expression.  

“It’s not what it sound like,” Delaney said, hurrying over to take the rolls from her.  

“I don’t even know what it sounds like,” Naise said, “but if Luk catches you using that type of language in here -”

“She didn’t,” Cherise said, “I did.  I swear, she has been nothing but the image of civility.”  Naise escaped into the back, looking over her shoulder warningly as she went, and Cherise burst into laughter as soon as the door swung closed behind her.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” Delaney hissed, but any heat she meant to put into it dissolved as she fought an unholy desire to join in laughing.  

“Now that I’ve found you,” Cherise said, as if the preceding thirty seconds hadn’t happened, “we’ll need to become very good friends.”  Delaney made a noncommittal noise as the door swung open and two soldiers entered.  Cherise departed empty-handed, ignoring the male eyes that followed her, and Delaney turned back to her work.

Every day after that Cherise came into the bakery, usually after the midday rush.  If they had the chocolate-filled pastries she would buy one and nibble at it while talking with Delaney until other customers arrived.  Delaney still didn’t really know what to make of her, but as the days rolled into weeks she found herself looking forward to her visits almost as much as Lady Massie’s.

The latter appeared one afternoon, and she and Cherise greeted each other warmly.  Delaney sighed internally, fighting down the surge of envy that her new acquaintance was friends with the Lady.  Delaney handed over her packet of cookies, holding those beautiful brown eyes with her usual shy smile.  She didn’t notice the flicker of hurt that passed over Cherise’s face as she watched them looking at each other.  

“I could introduce you two,” Cherise said after Lady Massie had left.  Delaney felt her cheeks flush and she glanced at her friend, ready to dismiss the notion.  But that vibrant mobile face was without its usual light, the gray eyes downcast, mouth tight.  Before she could say anything, a cluster of women came in, and Cherise slipped out in the bustle.  

Days passed, and Cherise didn’t come back.  Delaney found herself looking up eagerly every time the bell jangled.  And even when Lady Massie’s beautiful voice greeted her by name, she found herself longing for the laughter of her friend instead.

*****

Mikkal looked at Chetak’s stirrup.  It looked impossibly far off the ground.  He glanced at the man at Chetak’s head, then sighed, placed his hand on Chetak’s mane and lifted his left foot.  About halfway to its destination, his leg froze as pain ricocheted through his body.  He set his foot back down and rested his forehead against the saddle, muttering a long string of curses against the leather.  

It was imperative that he figure out how to get on a gods-damned horse, or he would never be able to leave.

“I can give you a leg up, sir,” said the patient man who had been holding the horse for the past several attempts.  Mikkal shook his head, then dropped the stirrup a few inches, studied it, then dropped it a few inches more.  When he left, there wouldn’t be anybody to help him.  Once the stirrup was low enough, he hooked his right wrist under his left knee, and was able with only a moderate level of discomfort to raise his foot to the lowered stirrup.  Pressing his toe down firmly, he reached up, pinched the back of the saddle with his right thumb and finger and bounced twice on his right foot, gritting his teeth against the spasm of pain in his gut.  Pushing off, he dragged himself up so his body rested across the saddle, breathing as deeply as he could before swinging his right leg over, biting down on his growl as the motion pulled on his muscles.  His boot brushed the horse’s rump and Chetak started, but the man held him fast.  Finally, finally, he was on.

It took another minute to fix his stirrup, and then he set off at a walk.  Chetak ambled around the camp, steady as an old plow horse.  The muscles in his lower back and hips, which he hadn’t even realized were tight, began to loosen up with the motion of the horse, and he started to relax.  After a lifetime spent on horseback, he realized how much he had taken it for granted.  How much he really loved being up so high, on a creature who was his partner and his friend.

Loved it, that is, until it was time to get off.  Then the ground looked impossibly far.  Leaning forward over Chetak’s glossy neck, he slid his foot carefully around behind him, then dropped down.  The jolt as he hit the ground shot through him and his legs gave out.  He let himself fall, knowing the landing would hurt less than trying to stop it.  

“Are you all right, sir?”  Three stablehands had rushed over to him when his ass hit the ground, but he was grinning despite the burning in his eyes.

This was it.  In another week or two, once he got his dismissal, he and Chetak would be on the road again, and this time he would be leaving the battlefield behind him for good.

*****

Weeks passed while Aedion waited for the passes through the Staghorns to clear enough to traverse.  The last thing they needed was to get stuck in the middle of nowhere in snow, which could easily drift up over even Avenar’s head.  In the meantime, he memorized maps and sparred with the small Adarlanian company that was holding the city and schemed when he could with Clery and Darrow.  

One evening Cathal appeared in the tavern at the Whispering Antlers while Aedion was eating with his men.  He looked a bit askance at Dorsey, Osment, and Hirons, but dropped into a chair at Aedion’s gesture.  “The runner got through,” he said.  “We should leave as soon as possible.”

The men exchanged glances.  They knew that Cathal was going as Aedion’s guide, though only Raedan was aware of his true status as an officer of the Bane.  None of them were happy about being left behind.  Hirons had argued the most strenuously, not trusting Cathal’s motives, but had given in when Aedion had tasked him with keeping the garrison under control in his absence, which was expected to last months.  

Aedion nodded.  “I can be ready in the morning.”  Raedan started to say something, but subsided.  Aedion asked, “What time do you want to leave?”

“If we leave within an hour after sunrise, we should make it to a good camping spot before nightfall.”  His eyes were roving around the room, leg bouncing up and down, fingers tapping on the table.

“Sounds good.”  Aedion cleaned his plate, watching Cathal twitch.  “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

Dorsey and Hirons silently passed Aedion their plates, and he finished what they didn’t want.  Aedion tilted his head at his men, and all but Raedan left.  “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”  Aedion just waited.  Several minutes passed, then Cathal stood abruptly.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”  He strode out of the tavern.

Aedion and Raedan exchanged looks.  “Do you trust him?”  Raedan asked.  

“No,” Aedion replied, “but Clery does.”

Raedan’s sniff indicated what he thought of that.  “And you really won’t let me come with you.”

Aedion shook his head.  “No.  It’s bad enough having one man in Adarlanian uniform riding down on these people, having more will invite catastrophe.  Even if you go disguised, you can’t hide your accent.”  Raedan slumped in his seat, arms crossed.  “Besides,” Aedion added slyly, “if you came with me you’d be away from Kenna for who knows how long.”

Raedan’s neck turned red.  “I’d still rather come.”

“I know.”  The truth was, he felt a bit as if he was diving blind into dark waters when he thought of leaving Raedan behind.  “But I need you here.  Keep working with Clery, he still hasn’t moved to get the rebels to stand down in the city.  We need to get the garrison thinking that they’ve succeeded.”

“You’ve told me this a thousand times,” Raedan said with some asperity.  

The weight of the task before him pressed on Aedion’s shoulders.  Despite all the planning he’d been doing not just for a few weeks but for the past year, everything hung on the whims of other people.  He honestly couldn’t even be sure Cathal wouldn’t just slit his throat in his sleep once they were up in the Staghorns, though the soldier seemed too straightforward for that to be likely.  

“Shit,” he said under his breath, letting his head fall back so he was looking at the intricately paneled ceiling.  It was so odd, he thought, studying the perfect symmetry of the inlaid honey-colored squares overhead.  Someone, a hundred years ago when building this inn, decided to put so much time adding beauty into something few people would likely ever see.  

Sitting up straight again, he looked around the crowded tavern.  It was packed with people who managed to be together yet separate; eyeing each other with interest, or longing, or even despair.  So many scents and emotions crashed down on him, he had to get out.  “See you in the morning, brother,” he said to Raedan.  

“‘Night,” Raedan replied, his face lighting up as Kenna began making her way over to him, dodging preoccupied bodies, her own face glowing as her eyes met his.  Aedion’s lips twitched up even as an ache began in his chest, and he turned and escaped into the open air.

It was just beginning to rain, a drizzle so fine it looks like the drops were hanging in the air rather than falling.  Flipping his hood back, he tilted his face up to it.  His hair and skin dampened, though he couldn’t feel the water hitting him.  He started walking, not going anywhere in particular, just letting his feet carry him where they would.  

The castle appeared in front of him, stark against its backdrop of craggy mountain, the white walls seeming to glow faintly despite the dark and the increasing rain.  He stopped on the corner, unable to walk closer to the gates he could see were twisted and bent, even from where he stood.  

Aedion had avoided coming here all these weeks, though it was only a few blocks from the inn he had selected for its very proximity.  It was visible through much of the city, but from afar it felt more impersonal, like a distant god looking over him.  But tonight…he couldn’t leave, not without seeing it one last time.  When he had been sprung from the tower three years ago, they had fled the city with such haste that he had not thought of anything other than his freedom.  It had never occurred to him that the castle would haunt his dreams.

Blinking the rain from his eyes, it was almost as if he could still see them all.  Rhoe and Evalin, dancing across the lawn to music only they could hear, Aelin clapping her hands and laughing as she watched.  Orlon, smiling benevolently, tugging gently one one of Aelin’s curls while Darrow stood quiet and stoic at his side.  Quinn and Cal and Kenway and Hen, all sparring with him and each other in the training fields that lay behind the castle.  Ren, the only boy who would stand up to him, yelling at him in the stables; tiny Elide, following Aelin around, ducking behind statues and through doorways if Aelin happened to glance her way.  These silent white walls filled with sound and color, all those snuffed-out lives vibrant again for a few brief moments.

He felt a touch on his elbow and whirled, startled, but there was no one there. Shivering a little at his own overactive imagination, he looked back over his shoulder at the castle, ghostly in the fading rain, before starting back to the inn to snatch what sleep he could before the dawn.

*****

Cathal was a bit surprised to find Ashryver already tacked up and waiting for him when he arrived, the sun not quite rising.  His men were standing with him, all eyeing Cathal warily.  One of them, a few years older than the others, he might’ve even said looked threatening.  He had almost forgotten what it was like, to have a family of soldiers.  Ashryver didn’t even know how lucky he was.

Or maybe he did.  One by one, he pulled each of his men into a hug, saying things Cathal couldn’t hear as he did so.  He looked so much older than his years in that moment.  His men stood back as he mounted his big brown mare.  “You have your orders,” the Captain-Prince said, and they bowed as one.  

The city was still asleep, the only sounds as the two of them rode through the gates the horses’ hooves on the road.  Soon even that was muffled, as they left the road to head around the city’s walls and up into the mountains behind.  The spring sun warmed their backs as they climbed.  Cathal was surprised when Ashryver paused before a steeper section and swung off his mare, to lead her instead.  He did the same.  All four of them were sucking air by the time they reached the top and remounted to ride along the ridge before the path began to rise again.

So they continued through the morning.  Once, long before the sun had reached its peak, Ashryver pulled up abruptly, swung his small bow off his shoulder and strung it, and had an arrow nocked and ready before Cathal even heard the flock of geese.  The arrow flew, then a second and a third, each finding a mark before the first bird had even fallen.  Dismounting, he dropped his reins and disappeared into the scrub pine, appearing several minutes later bearing three carcasses that he quickly tied to the back of his saddle.  Before he remounted, he pulled some dried meat out of his pack and held it up.

“Want some?” he asked, the first words either of them had spoken all day.

Cathal shook his head, furrowing his brow.  “It’s not even midday.”

Ashryver bit off a piece and started chewing as he hopped back onto his horse.  “I know,” he said, once he had swallowed.  And that was the extent of their conversation for the day.

They didn’t stop again until the sun had nearly dropped behind the trees and they reached a small level clearing, just big enough for the horses, themselves, and a fire.  Ashryver tended the horses quickly and efficiently while Cathal gathered some wood.  Using his hatchet, he split the damp logs, then shaved one of the split logs into large splinters.  While Cathal got the fire started, Ashryver sat down on a rock and began plucking the geese.

Once the birds were roasting on a makeshift spit just in front of the fire and Cathal was lounging on his bedroll, Ashryver finally spoke.  “Tell me about who we’re going to meet first.”

Cathal looked into the flames, watching them flare briefly as fat from the geese dripped off and splattered.  “The last I knew, Dewar and Grant were living pretty close to each other, another couple days’ ride north and east.  Don’t know if any of their men are with them, or who they’ve kept in touch with.”  He glanced over at the prince, who had moved to turn the birds.  “Clery suggested we go there first.”

“You didn’t agree?”

Cathal chewed his lip for a moment before answering.  “They’ll likely give us a chance to talk at least.”

“But…”  Ashryver looked at him expectantly, waving his hand to encourage him to continue.

Suddenly all Cathal could think of was Dewar’s thick arm around his chest, holding him while he screamed for Muire.  He’d never even seen the blow to his temple coming.  He only knew that Luthais had fought to get to him while they struck him because he’d been told so once he’d come around.  They had ended up knocking Luthais out cold as well.  He had never again spoken to the men involved, not after he had awoken and seen the scornful pity in their eyes.

He didn’t answer, and Ashryver didn’t press him, just went back to tending the geese.  Traveling with the prince was rather like traveling alone, only apparently with better food.  Eventually he dozed off, lulled by the heat and the crackling flames.

Movement woke him a while later.  Ashrver was sliding the cooked geese off the spit and onto a bed of clean leaves.  He sat up abruptly, rubbing a hand over his face.  “Sorry.”

Ashryver glanced at him, amused, then began hacking apart the birds.  He handed Cathal a leg and took one for himself, sitting back on his rock and tearing into it.  Cathal bit into his own, his appetite flaring as the juice from the meat flooded his mouth.  “You can cook,” he said in surprise.

The prince laughed.  “I can sit meat over a fire and not burn it, is all,” he said, cutting himself another large hunk.  Cathal followed suit; unlike Ashryver, who had kept pulling food out of his saddlebags as they rode, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  Once they were finally satiated, Ashryver carefully wrapped the rest of the birds in leaves and tucked them into an oilcloth bag, then hung the bag from a tree.

“How’d you learn to cook?” Cathal asked, watching him.  

“One of my uncle’s men taught me.”  His closed expression was utterly foreign to that naturally open face, and Cathal realized how little he really knew about Ashryver.  He knew about the prince - the rumors and reputation he had built both before the takeover and what filtered up from Adarlan afterwards.  Gifted, arrogant, vicious; all of Orynth had been whispering when he’d broken an older boy’s jaw when still a child, and in recent months the whispers had swirled again that he had killed at least two men in Adarlan.  But Cathal had known Rhoe, if only slightly, and would have expected little else from his protege.  Those whispers told nothing about the man himself.

After checking the horses, Ashryver found the softest patch of ground he could and shook out his bedroll.  “What, no tent, Prince?” Cathal quipped, and Ashryver’s grin was visible even in the firelight.

“I thought you were packing the tent and some beds, and a few ladies besides.”

“So sorry to disappoint your highness.  Think you can manage to go a few months without sticking your cock in something?”

An answering laugh rumbled through the clearing.  “I suppose we’ll find out if celibacy proves fatal.”

“Never has yet.”  

The next day went much the same, though the long stretches of silence were punctuated by a bit more conversation.  Cathal found himself explaining that he had once known Dewar well, that the former major had been his commanding officer prior to the invasion.  Grant had been his fellow captain, fighting next to him under Major Ward in the final battles.

He didn’t tell him about Muire or Luthais, not then.  Even though, after how Ashryver had talked about his own lover’s possible fate in Adarlan, he was certain the prince wouldn’t judge him.

That night it rained, and they tucked themselves under the densest possible stand of trees, the horses picketed just outside of it.  A low whicker from one of the horses awoke Cathal hours later.  The rain had ceased, and he could hear the horses pawing.  He wondered if there was a ghost leopard about.  They were a bit farther east than the big cats usually ranged, but it was breeding season so anything was possible.  Still, the horses didn’t sound that fearful, just agitated.

A strangled noise came from his left, followed by intense rustling, and he bolted upright, unable to see much with the clouds and tree branches obscuring the sky.  He freed himself from his bedroll and began crawling towards the noise, patting the ground with his hands until he finally hit wool, then a thrashing body.  His eyes had adapted enough that he could see Ashryver’s big form, twisting violently, blacker than the surrounding dark, but couldn’t find anything or anyone attacking him.  A nightmare?   “Ashryver,” he said, then repeated it, louder, as he shoved at whatever part of him he had encountered.  “Prince!”  There came no reply other than a ragged, sobbing breath.  “Aedion!” he finally shouted, punching out blindly, hoping he wasn’t hitting the poor man in the balls but desperate to wake him up.

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, arms pinned on either side of his head, Ashryver snarling viciously in his face.  In that moment, there was nothing human about the prince; indeed, as the moon peeked through the clouds Cathal would’ve even sworn his canines looked longer, though when he blinked again the illusion was gone.  The pressure on his wrists was hard enough the bones groaned.  His legs were trapped painfully under the larger man’s knees; he couldn’t move.  Wouldn’t have dared to, even if he could; some instinct told him any attempt to free himself would get him nothing but a broken neck.

“Aedion,” he breathed, and Ashryver blinked.  “Aedion, it’s all right.  You’re all right.  It was a dream.”  A second later he was free, and Ashryver was retching next to him.  He sat up slowly.

“Shit, Aedion…”  There was no answer other than hoarse breathing.  “Does that happen often?”

“Not too often anymore,” Ashryver said, gagging one last time before wiping his mouth.  “You shouldn’t have woken me up, I could have killed you.”

“If you think I’m going to let anyone suffer like that, even in your sleep, think again,” Cathal snapped.

A low, mirthless laugh was the only response.

Cathal didn’t even want to consider the possibilities of what Ashryver might have been reliving.  There were certainly things that could happen to a man during the normal course of battle to make him react like that even years later, and he had been so young during the invasion.  That night at Clery’s, Ashryver had told about having his fingers broken, about being dropped in a prison pit, about being tied down and beaten, but…even as he had spoken, Cathal had suspected they weren’t hearing the worst of it.

He crawled the rest of the way out from under the trees and stood.  The horses were quiet now, the air cool and damp.  For some reason he found himself crying.  It was so strange; he had never been able to shed a tear for Luthias.  Two years, seven months, and sixteen days without a single tear.  There was movement behind him as Ashryver got to his feet, and he swiped furtively at his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” came the deep, rolling voice.  “Did I hurt you?”  He knew he would have bruises, but that wasn’t what was troubling him; he shook his head, not trusting his voice.  A broad hand landed on his shoulder and he startled; he hadn’t even heard footsteps in the leaves.  “Sorry,” Ashryver said again, letting his hand drop.

Cathal glanced over his shoulder, catching the prince’s concerned look in the dim light.  “I’m fine,” he said, hoping Ashryver wouldn’t notice the thickness in his voice but knowing that he would.  He cleared his throat.  “We’re going to do this,” he said fervently.

“Do what?”

“This.  We’re going to raise the Bane, and turn it against that murdering bastard, and take down everyone who stands against us.”  He turned to face Ashryver fully.  The prince dropped his head, looking at the ground for a long moment before meeting his eyes.  

“I won’t fail you,” Ashryver vowed, holding out the hand with the scar he’d given himself.

Cathal shook it, squeezing, smiling a little at the answering pressure.

*****

Mikkal sat on Chetak, looking not at the road curving to the east but across the rolling grassy hills to the north.  The gods knew his heart called him there.  

The paper in his saddlebag ordered him east, to Rifthold.  When the letter had finally come, he had not been released from his service as expected.  No, the accursed paper had contained a commendation for his bravery, and an order to return to Rifthold to discuss his prospects.  Even General Chambers had been surprised.  

He could disappear.  There was no one around, no one to see.  If he wasn’t in the city at the prescribed day, five days hence, who would care?   But Adarlan did not take kindly to deserters, they were pursued aggressively regardless of their status.  A deserter who was an officer, and a general’s son no less, would be a prize for any bounty hunter.  And if he led them to Aedion, to whatever he was planning in the north…He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk him.

Sighing through the pain as his heart fractured again, he reined Chetak east.

[overcaffeinated-creative]

Which Way Am I Running?

Summary: Being assigned an undercover mission in Sundari triggers flashback nightmares for Solus. Trapped between a past in the Great Clan Wars and an uncertain future leaves her doubt filled and shaken before she ships out.

Characters: Solus Vetra, Ursa Wren in flashback

Rating: T

Warnings: Clear signs of an ongoing panic attack, clear presentation of mental trauma sustained from surviving a paramilitary raid, descriptions of said raid and general angst.

Notes: This is part of my worldbuilding attempts for the political climate of Mandalore, both past and present. Solus has a low opinion of Satine Kryze that shows in spades. 

“Run!” Ursa hissed through the speaker of her helmet. Armored hands pushed her deeper into the current base. “Run!”

Death white hands clung to the refresher sink with the strength of durasteel. Her entire body trembled in aftershocks of the nightmare. Head hanging low, Solus focused on the tears splattering on the porcelain. Harsh, panting breaths echoed around the small space. Part of her wanted to reach up to dry her eyes. That part lost. One simple move would send her tumbling to the floor on collapsing legs. To stay standing meant everything had to stay locked in place.

Blaster fire echoed behind as Ursa shoved her into the most solid inner suite. After the door slammed shut the older warrior destroyed the control panel. Even masked and back turned to her, Solus knew something was wrong. The funny feeling her ba’buir called the Force screamed. Lights, ones she knew the names of, kept blinking out of existence. It even told her that Ursa was scared too. But, it had to be wrong. Ursa Wren was fearless.

Part of Solus thought she had escaped the nightmares this time around. It had been months since she had returned from Mandalore. Her mind had accepted the state of her home sector without question. Just as it took the confirmation of Death Watch and their false Manda’lor in stride. Even the good-as-confirmed deaths of her ba’buire stirred no strong emotion. It was something she had accepted years ago. All of the True Mandalorians died but Jango Fett during the Great Clan Wars Now, a single mission assignment turned it all of that progress upside down.

“What’s wrong?” she had asked with tears filling her eyes. The once distant high-pitched whine of the invaders’ rifles moved closer. “Ursa, what’s wrong?”

More tears fell as she fought to breath. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream for the second time in another drawn out fight-or-flight response. Every sensation in her body was thrown into relief. The way her heart tried to pound free of her ribs. Her lungs stung with each attempt to properly inhale. Against nature she had even begun to sweat. Little icy beads that raced from her hairline, down her sensitive neck, before being adsorbed by tunic or hair. Her knees ached at being locked up while her muscles groaned from staying pulled taunt. And the Force...the Force tried to drown it all out as she was acutely aware of everyone and no one. Just a steadfast bad feeling about the future.

“Kryze sent assassins.” Ursa’s gauntlets shook while she lined the door with explosives. “They��ve jammed our comms and brought disruptor rifles.” Swallowing thickly she almost whispered, “I can’t stop them by myself. This is really it.”

Master Kit was half way across the Galaxy on a campaign. Otherwise, he would be standing beside her in the moment. His tall, warm presence would fill the space to help her find control. He was a good Master, better than she deserved, who always came when she needed him. However, those were what-ifs and past actions. In the current moment she was entirely alone her traitorous body. Everything tried to shake apart with no way to call for comfort she needed.

“I can help?” Solus wanted to believe that she could. Ba’buir said she truly gifted with the Force. The kind of gifted even Jetii would would call impressive. But, no one had taught her how to fight or even use it at all. Everything came to her mind without her really trying. Maybe she could try again for something to stop this. “I can help.”

Using the pain as a focal point the young woman fought to control herself. Her lungs ached from hyper-oxygenation or was it oxygen deprivation? Regardless it needed fixed. Breathing in through her nose for ten seconds, hold for three, exhale through pursed lips for five, and count. Then it would be repeated until she was calm, or something that could pass for calm. It was a trick Jazari had taught her. Everything was a fraction easier to do knowing it was how Jazari would handle it.

“No!” Ursa ordered while scooping her up into her arms. They went deeper into the rooms to hide. Solus was forced into a corner with Ursa kneeling before her. With her beskar’gam and drawn knife she made a better shield. Solus was a warrior too but her clothes only had beskar plated inserts. Ba’buir said full armor would come later. They would forge it together.

Solus wished Pre Vizsla had been the nightmare trigger. By all rights, he should have been. Vizsla was bigger and stronger than her with far more experience. He was the Manda’lor of Death Watch, the people who slaughtered Jaster Mereel and the True Mandalorians with pride. Yet, in the end she was faster and far more cunning with an unshakable will. He became nothing but another facet of an ongoing war. Vizsla was almost someone she could beat if given the time and mind set. The real problem was no so simple.

When the door war breached things became fuzzy in her mind. People screamed from Ursa’s blast before more rushed in to clear the rooms. Quickly they were located with those rifles shoved into their faces. Solus knew she had started crying again. The invaders called them failures and cowards. Taunted them for hiding. One made a move to kill them before the leader said no. Duke Kryze wanted their deaths to happen a certain way and certainly not disintegrated. Slugthrowers were to be used for them. The execution of Krownest legacies would be a statement. Unlike the mighty Kryze, they were going to die outside, on their knees, and treasonous blood running into their precious snow. They were forced to their feet, weapons take, and then marched toward their deaths.

When her breathing was firmly under control again allowing her to move toward the next task: freeing the sink. Each joint in her fingers throbbed from tension. It took individual orders to will the appendage to rise up. Absentmindedly, Solus wondered if this was the time she finally left indentations. Shamefully, she thought having to hold herself upright was becoming common place. Not including her notoriously strong grip. Several times Mav had joked, Force User or not, she had the strength to hold back Death itself. Back then Solus had laughed at the thought. Now, she could only pray to be so strong.

On the way out Solus held Ursa’s hand. All around them lay partial bodies and dust that used to be bodies. Almost everyone is dead; Vetra, Wren, or ally. It stabbed at her heart. The Force let her feel Ursa’s ache and the invaders confused feelings at their jobs. But, Ursa’s heartache was caused by more than their peoples deaths. There is failure and sadness mixed up in it. She promised to hold down the base and failed miserably. Her buir trusted her. There was even some acceptance of her incoming death. They will die as examples to their people. It makes her squeeze Ursa’s hand tighter and silently promise to help them.

These particular nightmares had started two days ago with vengeance. Senator Amidala returned from Sundari with grave news prompting the Republic to act. Herself, and fellow Padawan Ahsoka Tano, were being sent undercover within the city to locate the problem. Bitterly, she wondered how they could call anything they did there undercover work. Everyone in, what the Duchess called Mandalore, looked exactly the same now; fair, human, and blonde. A Togruta and a half-Sephi would stand out on first or second glance. It was disgusting. Before they had only looked sort of the same in beskar’gam.

With each step forward, Solus focused harder on the feeling to protect Ursa. When she used the Force before it was because she wanted it to happen. Everything in that moment had pointed toward “Do”. Now, she wanted those men with their blasters to leave them alone. Sinking into the feeling she tried to shove everything outward as hard as she could. Her vision went dark at the edges, white noise roared in her ears, and everything exploded.

Solus pulled her sweat damp tunic off then paused hand halfway to the faucet. In the very moment, she struggled to recognize herself. Dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes were common. Everyone sported the same eyes since the start of the Clone Wars. But, her eyes looked off. Something not entirely fear or unease dimmed them. Any business with Kryze felt off in a frustratingly unreadable way. Maybe it was frustration? She knew she lacked the passion for it to be true hate. There was was anger but Solus knew her own anger. It ran cold and gleamed.  

Blinking herself awake much later she lazily looked at their surrounds before settling down. It was what served as the medbay on one of their smaller transport ship. They were even seated on the gurney..at least, Ursa was seated with her back to the wall. Solus was curled up mostly in her lap and being held in a death grip to her armored chest with both arms. To the right, she could make out Ursa’s familiar black and gold helmet rest next to her. Upward was a different story. Tears were dried on the Wren’s cheeks while her eyes still were red and raw. Wiggling around she felt the blaster laying to their left.

A realization slammed into Solus with such intensity she gasp. “Kryze is her father,” she murmured while staring into her mirror double’s wide, trouble eyes. “She’s just as short-sighted and extremist in her executions of goals. Hell, there were probably actual executions on her rise to power. No wonder she unnerves me.” Laughter bubbled up from her chest edged with a fevered mania. “And here I am heading in to solve her problems as an agent of the Jedi Order because she’s faltering to the Republic’s offers.”

“You okay, Ursa?”

For several minutes Solus stood quiet. Her chest hurt. “Maybe I should just join Death Watch.” She saw Wren colors and sigils among the warriors on Concordia. Ursa bowed to Vizsla and she never made any decision lightly. If she gave there was a reason. “Stars know, I’m already too lost for Manda to find.”

“Just thinking about our future, ad’ika. Times are changing.”

“But, I can’t. I called myself the Chieftain of Clan Vetra. I can’t risk any honor I have left.”

[robinhoodrevisited]

Agreements & Betrayals (pt.5)

Sherwood Forest. Near Dead Man’s Crossing. (Isabella runs, then ducks behind a thick tree, breathing heavily. She hears a twig snap close behind her. She quiets her breathing, pulls up her skirt and takes a knife from a small belt tied around her thigh. She slowly slides around the tree, then suddenly stabs out with the knife. Robin catches her arm and faces her with a stern look.) Isabella: (Relieved:) “Robin... (Robin presses the inside of her wrist to make her drop the knife. He watches it as it falls from her hand to the ground.) Oh, thank God.” (Isabella throws her arms around Robin’s neck. He loosely puts his arms around her waist and lets her hold him.) Robin: “Are you all right?” (Isabella nods and lets go.) Isabella: “Despite being betrayed by a friend, yes.” Robin: “Vaisey is no one’s friend. Now maybe you realise that finally. My gang and I have been working on your behalf to make sure you remain sheriff. I assume our efforts won’t go unnoticed?” Isabella: (Nods:) “Yes, of course. (Robin shifts his feet, his look still stern, deciding if he can trust her.) I think we can work together. I’ve always known it and I think you do, too.” Robin: (Purses his lips, then nods slightly.) “Marian trusts you, so it’s a deal.” Isabella: “You won’t regret this. How can I repay you?” Robin: “Well, you can start by handing over the gold... tomorrow, at Knight’s Glade.“ Isabella: “But... I need it to win the contest.” Robin: “Only if Vaisey manages to collect more than you. And I’m not going to let that happen.” Isabella: (Thinks:) “Of course. You must give it back to the people. It’s theirs, after all.“ Robin: “Good.” Sheriff: (Getting closer:) “Isabella, come out, come out wherever you are!” (Little John and Will turn towards the voice, pulling their weapons ready.) Robin: “John, escort the Sheriff back to her castle.” (Little John makes a silent look of disbelief as Djaq, Much and Will disappear into the trees.) Isabella: (Quietly:) “Thank you.” (Little John stomps past her, clearly unhappy with his assignment.) Little John: (Gruffly:) “This way.” (Robin leans on the tree and Isabella follows Little John.) Powis Castle. Great Hall. Wales. (Clarke enters the hall to find Lexa speaking with the Nightbloods. The Commander sits upon her throne as the Nightbloods sit at her feet below the dais.) Lexa: "What are the three pillars of being Commander?" (The words 'Wisdom', 'Compassion' and 'Strength' are uttered among the Nightbloods in answer.) Clarke: (Whispering to Titus:) "Talk her out of it yet?" Titus: "No. But maybe you can."

Clarke: "I don't understand. The Queen's not fighting, why should she?" Titus: "The Queen's strength is not in doubt. Thanks to her deal with Prince John, Lexa's is." Lexa: (To the group:) "Train hard and remember, you are each worthy of your Nightblood." Titus: (Stepping forward:) "Nightbloods.” (Claps and indicates for them to follow him.) Lexa: "Aden. (A young boy turns.) Stay. Clarke, (Clarke walks over.) this is Aden. Aden is the most promising of my novitiates. If I should die today, he will likely succeed me. (Clarke cannot hide the worried look on her face. to Aden:) Clarke worries about her people. Tell her what will happen to them when you become Heda, Aden." Aden: "If I become Heda, I pledge my loyalty to the thirteenth Clan." Lexa: "Thank you. Now go join the others. (Aden bows and leaves the room. Clarke turns to watch him leave.) See? (Clarke turns back around. With a smile:) Nothing to worry about." Clarke: "I'm sorry if I'm worried the fate of the coalition lies in the hands of a child." Lexa: "Then you worry for nothing. I've sent Indra with a division of warriors to collect your friends and bring them here. Your people are protected, as I vowed they would be.” Clarke: "You’re bringing Robin and his gang here?” Lexa: “I’ve instructed Indra to tell them you sent for them. It seemed prudent, given that their opinion of me is likely to reflect your own.” Clarke: “And if they refuse?” Lexa: (Regards Clarke a moment:) “They will be brought here for their own safety.” (Turns and moves towards the throne.) Clarke: (Following:) “My friends can look after themselves. It’s you I’m concerned about right now. (Lexa stops and faces Clarke at this:) You don't stand a chance against Roan." Lexa: (Indignant:) "You've never seen me fight." Clarke: "No, but I saw him kill three men in the time it took the first one to hit the ground." Lexa: (Shakes her head:) "If you're right, today is the day my spirit will choose its successor, and you need to accept that." Clarke: (Leaning close to the Commander:) "Like hell I do." (Clarke turns and strides out of the Hall as Lexa coolly seats herself upon the Commander's throne.)

Nottingham Castle. Dungeons. (Isabella comes down with Sir Jasper and two guards.) Isabella: “Release her.” (Meg stands.) Meg: “Isabella, you’re back.” Isabella: “Meg!” Meg: “Thank goodness.” (The guard unlocks Meg’s cuffs. Gisborne sits at the bars separating them, his hands gripping the iron.) Jasper: “I’m not so sure your brother will feel the same. (Leans down to speak to Gisborne:) You’re for the chop, my friend.” (Isabella glances at Guy, unsure of how she will be able to free him. Taking Meg’s arm, she begins to walk away. Gisborne watches Meg with a look of sadness in his eyes.) Meg: “Won’t you release Guy, too?” (Isabella turns to Meg.) Jasper: (Scoffs:) “What? Are you mad? He’s our enemy.” Meg: (Looks plaintively at Guy.) “But...” Isabella: (Squeezing Meg’s hand:) “He betrayed Prince John, Meg. There’s nothing I can do.” (Isabella gives Meg a meaningful look and almost imperceptibly nods towards Sir Jasper as if to say ‘Not while he’s around.’ Gisborne glances down, but the fact Meg wants him released clearly moves him.) Jasper: “You sill girl. A few hours in a cell with a cold-hearted killer and you lose your wits.” (Gisborne takes a last look at Meg.) Isabella: “My brother will get exactly what he deserves. Now come on.” (Isabella glances at Gisborne, then pulls Meg behind her. Meg looks back at Gisborne, who lowers his eyes, sinking back into his depression.)

Powis Castle. Courtyard. (Prince Roan, accompanied by his mother Queen Nia is being led out into the courtyard by guards.) Queen Nia: "Focus, Roan. You're here to practice. Remember, anticipate her reflexes. When you feel overconfident, you forget that your enemy has strengths, too.” Roan: "I don't need your help." Queen Nia: "You're upset that I chose you?" Roan: "I'm not surprised." Queen Nia: "When you kill Lexa, your banishment will be over. In the wake of your victory, our people will be more powerful than ever. That will be your legacy and your legend." Roan: "Don't pretend you do anything for me, Mother." Queen Nia: "You're right. Everything I do is for Ireland. What's good for Ireland is good for you. (To her second:) My sword. (The second steps forward and presents the Queen with her sword as a guard uncuffs the Prince. Presenting the weapon to her son:) If you won't fight for your mother or your queen, fight for your clan. (Roan pulls the sword from the scabbard and inspects it.) I want her head." (The Queen walks away, leaving Roan alone to practice. Spinning the sword a few times in his hand he turns suddenly and points the weapon towards a hooded figure.) Roan: "What do you want?" Clarke: (Lifting her hood and raising her head:) "We need to talk." Roan: "We have nothing to talk about. (Lowers the sword and turns away:) I need to prepare." Clarke: "I didn't tell Lexa you gave me the knife. That at least earns me a moment of your time. (Roan raises an eyebrow but does not speak:) This is what your mother wanted all along." Roan: (Turning back to her:) "What do you want? Spit it out." Clarke: "I want you to become the king. I know you've thought of it. She was willing to let you die, willing to let you be banished. I know you just want to go home." Roan: "When I win today, I will." Clarke: "For how long? How long until your mother finds another reason to cast you out, to sacrifice you? No one can cast a king out of his kingdom." Roan: "I can't do it... My people would never take me back... (Clarke begins to turn away:) but... (Clarke looks at him:) I can help you do it."

Sherwood Forest. Night. (The Sheriff and four guards with torches walk down the road.) Sheriff: “Isabella!” (They encounter a cross made with flat, white stones in the middle of their path.) Guard: “I don’t like the look of this. You shouldn’t have touched that burial mound.” Sheriff: “Superstitious peasant! (The Sheriff kicks a rock near the centre out of place. Suddenly, a swarm of bats fly at them. The guards try to swat them away, scared.) They’re just bats! (Two guards run away.) Get back here, you cowards!” (The Sheriff hears a horse whinny behind him. A figure in a black cloak, face hidden in the hood, on a white horse gallops up and stops.) Will: “You have disturbed the dead!” (The horses neighs and rears. The last two guards run off.) Guard: “Somebody help me! Help!” Sheriff: “Come back!” Will: “You invoked the Viking curse! You’ll be visited by suffering, madness and death!” (Robin quietly stands behind The Sheriff.) Robin: “Playing with the devil. (The Sheriff looks behind him. Robin draws his bow back.) Big mistake, Vaisey.” Nottingham Castle. Dungeons. (Meg comes down the stairs with a plate of food and a cup. She stops at the bottom, then moves forward to Gisborne’s cell. She sets down the plate and cup outside the bars where Gisborne is sitting. He looks forlornly up at her.) Gisborne: (Quietly:) “Thank you. (Shakes his head.) But no.” Meg: “You must eat... f—for me. It’s the least that I can do.” Gisborne: (Honestly:) “You’ve done more than enough.” Meg: (Starts to cry:) “I haven’t done anything.” Gisborne: (Nods slightly.) “You have. You made me think.” Meg: “About what?” Gisborne: “About... someone I know. She sees good where there is none. She made me a better man.” Meg: “What happened?” Gisborne: (Silent a moment before answering. Quietly:) “She loves another man. She lied and deceived me all for her love for another. (Voice breaking a bit:) She does not love me, nor do I think she ever did. But despite all of that, she changed me.” (Meg tries to hold back her tears.) Meg: “Well, it’s her loss if you ask me.” Gisborne: (Smiles:) “G—... Go on.” (Meg stands, gazes at him a moment, then leaves. Gisborne hangs his head.) Sherwood Forest. (Will, at the head, and Much carry a bound and gagged Sheriff into a small caged cart. Vaisey yells behind his gag.) Will: (to cart driver:) “We found him in the forest, babbling something about Viking ghosts. (Will stands over The Sheriff.) He needs to be locked up.” Much: (Stands at the back.) “Yep, madhouse is the best place for him.” Djaq: “He’s a danger to himself and the people around him.” (Will gives a smug look to Djaq and gets out. Vaisey struggles and yells.) Will: “And if he mentions something about being Sheriff of Nottingham, just pay no attention.“ (Vaisey looks back at the driver and yells. Much closes the door and latches it.) Much: “He was the Queen of Sheba last week.” (Much steps away and Robin comes up.) Robin: “Nottingham’s well rid of you, Vaisey. And don’t even think of coming back. (The cart driver turns around to watch.) Because if you do, your next destination won’t be an asylum... (Vaisey yells.) ...but where you really belong... hell.“ (Robin taps the cart and nods. The cart drives off with Vaisey still screaming in back.)

Nottingham Castle. Sheriff’s quarters. (Isabella gives instructions to two guards. Behind her, more guards unpack the treasure and Meg stands watching her.) Jasper: (Fondling a few coins:) “Well, since there’s been no sign of Vaisey and the day is almost out, I think the title of Sheriff is yours, my lady.” Isabella: (Takes a seat at her desk:) “You truly think so?” Jasper: (Nods:) “Especially now you’ve got some gold to show the Prince. The challenge was very specific: The winner will be the one who has captured the most outlaws and gold. Just one or the other wouldn’t have sufficed.” Isabella: (Conversationally:) “What would’ve happened in that case I wonder?” Jasper: (Shakes his head:) “I couldn’t say. Nothing good, I’d imagine.” (Meg comes over, pretending to look at the jewellery in a chest on the edge of the table. As Sir Jasper and Isabella continue talking, Meg eyes the keys lying next to the chest, then silently takes the keys off the table when Isabella turns her head away to think. Isabella smiles up at Meg, but she has disappeared. She quickly glances at the table and sees the keys are gone, too. She frowns slightly, then realises Meg’s intent. She stands and hurries out.) Nottingham Castle. Dungeons. (Meg comes downstairs, checking for guards. She rushes to Gisborne and unlocks his cell.) Gisborne: “Meg? (Meg opens the door and kneels down to unlock Gisborne’s shackles.) What are you doing?” Meg: “I can’t let her kill you. I just can’t.” Gisborne: (Touched:) “You’d do this for me? (Meg smiles. Gisborne grabs a bar and pulls himself up, then takes Meg’s hand and strokes her cheek lovingly. They stare into each other’s eyes.) Thank you.” (Smiles.)

(Isabella stands at the foot of the stairs, watching. Sir Jasper beside her.) Jasper: “Well, this is touching.” Gisborne: “Go! (Gisborne pushes Meg forward and they start to run to the stairs, but Isabella catches Meg and, as Sir Jasper snaps his fingers, two guards with swords jump out to confront Gisborne.) She didn’t know what she was doing!” Isabella: “Oh, yes she did! (to Meg:) How could you? I set you free and this is how you repay me?” Meg: “We’re not the same! I try to do things out of love. You’re doing this out of hate!” Isabella: (Eyes deliriously wide:) “How dare you?! I suppose I should be grateful. Now I know the only person I can trust is myself. I’m on my own!” (Isabella shoves Meg at the guards. One stays with Gisborne; the other takes Meg.) Meg: “You put yourself there, Isabella.” Isabella: (Raging, pointing at her brother:) “He put me there when he sold me into a loveless marriage! (Meg and Gisborne stare at Isabella, who steps forward.) So, if you two lovebirds want to be together... that’s fine. You shall. You’ll both die.“ (Meg can only choke on the air and she puts her hand to her throat as the guards steer them away. Sir Jasper smirks and watches Isabella a moment. As she stands there staring at nothing in particular we can only wonder what’s going through her mind. Whatever it is, she is clearly shaken by the days events. )

[moonsandstar-s]

The Final Warning - Chapter XXV

Chapter XXV - Flight of the Coward 

Summary:  As the year draws to a close, peace has finally dawned. The time for unity has arrived. In the Vytal festival, it is time for heroes to rise, bringing glory to their kingdoms. But as autumn dies, the first winds of winter blow over Remnant, chilling the hearts of the people; breathing doubt into their souls. Long-buried secrets will triumph, and every action will have a consequence. Ruby must reconcile herself with her own fate. Weiss struggles to escape her legacy. Blake cannot erase memories. Yang’s search leads her into more peril than ever— but none of them can outrun fate. Shadows turn on shadows, and bonds shatter as they are tested to the limit. For in dividing them, they will fall and burn; at the eye of the storm, no peace lasts forever. In the end and beginning of time, there is a place where the sun never rises, and the dead delight to teach the living. A great danger is rising from the darkness. It’s time to take sides. The final warning is coming. The first chill of winter is the most deadly; it is the chill that kills more than any other. The first betrayal is the most damaging; it is the act that shatters bonds of love and trust, crushing even the strongest heart, tearing teams apart. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7745314/chapters/22069091 Blake

She disappeared from view, leaving Weiss, Sun, and the school behind.

She bounded her way from step to step, past the desolate courtyard, past the school that was now an empty shell, one that would only ever hold ghosts of what she had once loved, past Vale itself, and her feelings grew and grew. A wave of choking emotion rose up inside of her, clamoring in her mind, and something inside her splintered as the wave finally did crash over her, darkness closing over her head and constricting her throat, pulling her downwards into bottomless grief.

And she ran.

She bolted, taking off like a shot, away from Beacon, away from Vale, not caring where she went as long as it widened the distance between her and what she had done. She ran, taking off over broken slabs of stone, over corpses who had died not long ago, her entire body humming with the knowledge, the confusion, pain, and fear of knowing that what had happened to the one she loved had been her fault, that her mere presence was to bring death and pain.

She ran, fast and far, past buildings, past places she had once loved. She stumbled, going down in a tumble as she tripped over a corpse, and nausea rose in her throat with a sudden, lashing surge, because the corpse could have been anyone, could have been Adam, could have been Yang. She rose to her feet and fled. She ran, heart torn asunder, her very soul crying out with the raw sky and pouring rain. She ran, the ground blurring past under her feet. She ran, knowing she could not escape the truth of what happened… no matter how much she ran, she knew she would never leave it behind.

Snow had begun to fall again, white flakes flurrying past as dawn slowly lifted its head above the horizon. But in her mind the snow was not snow, but the softness of Yang’s hair, and the light of the moon was the light of Yang’s eyes, and the wind whistling in the alleys was not the wind, but Yang’s voice calling out brokenly, blindly, for her, keening a song of inexpressible grief into the night.

You were right, she thought, staggering to a halt and going to her knees, fingers clawing at her temples, as if she could claw out the memories. Her voice cracked as tears finally streamed down her face, reality hitting her with the force of a semi-truck. She wasn’t Blake, a warrior, strong and proud— she was just a seventeen year old girl who had watched someone she’d once loved die and another nearly die because of her, and she was broken because of it, hardly able to contain her own grief. You were right, you were right, you were right… I’m only a coward and I’ll only ever bring pain and hurt to those I love…

Ayran had been right, in the end, and so had Adam. She had never, never escaped him or the White Fang, and even in death, he was hunting her. And as she took flight through the bleak streets, her eyes were blurred, with her speed or something else… she could not tell.  

She made it out of Vale, past the school, past the city, into a rough, untamed wilderness. Out here, she was on her own, unprotected from the Grimm, from the White Fang, but this was the way it had to be, ever since she had cut the cord on a train car and sealed her own fate. She collapsed, finally, sure that she was far enough away to rest, to get a grip of where she was and her physical status. She slumped in a sheltered grove of trees, crawling beneath their welcoming, open branches, burrowing into the dead leaves for warmth. The bitter wind sloughed through the trees, rattling the branches above her head like bones, bringing tears to her eyes.

Hands shaking, she lifted the hem of her shirt, and almost passed out at what she saw there. Sage’s abilities to heal were extensive, but they could only do so much, and it was obvious. The wound on her abdomen, right above her hipbone, where Adam had stabbed her, was edged with ragged scraps of skin, blood still oozing sluggishly out of the wound. It was a dark red color around the edges, a bright scarlet in the center; the sword had gone straight through the skin on the side of her body, surpassing her organs and bone, but piercing flesh and muscle, and it hurt worse than any physical wound she had sustained thus far.

But it’s nothing compared to what Yang has lost, she thought ferociously at herself, gritting her teeth as the night wind stung it. This is what you deserve, your penance, and even then it’s only a fraction of what he did to her, because you were there. He only harmed her because of you…

As she lay curled up there, in the darkness and shadows, their faces, the faces of those she had known, swam before her eyes, too quickly for her to grasp—   Sun, his face lined and weary, blood streaking his hands, churning gray eyes dark. Dark, with the promise of storms to come, of tornadoes and twisters and hurricanes—   Pyrrha, her eyes slowly glazing over and fading, hollow and empty of light, like some essential spark had fled from her—   Ruby, silver gaze blazing with a ferocious light, cold as chips of ice, her face as hollow and drawn as an angel plummeting from the sky with its wings burning up—   Weiss, tormented, a fractured coldness in her expression, filled with clouds that would unleash the first storm of war—   Yang, her face calm, eyes closed; as Blake watched, her eyes snapped open, fiery as the sun, her expression twisting into one of hatred and loathing, and she struck out at Blake, snarling—  

She jackknifed up, out of the hollow in the leaves, and retched, trembling, though her body had nothing left to give her. All the poison was within her mind, within her very soul, and there was nothing she could do to fix the mess she had created. I’ll run, she thought dully. I will run, because it is what I do the best, always leaving behind dust and shadows in my wake. I will run… because the White Fang can never catch me.

We are what we are, Adam, and I am never to be kept for long. / / / 

She was more exhausted than she had ever been after navigating along the coast of Vale, now miles away from the city and school, and from the towns on the outskirts. She had scavenged from the city after she left, taking nonperishables and Lien, bandages for her wounds, medicines and matches. Everything she stole was taken from the people who had died in the attack, people who would not be coming back for their supplies and notice that a few were missing. She knew how to survive on her own; she always had. She had run away from the White Fang, hidden her identity, survived, got an education, kept herself on top of things— she knew how to be alone, knew how to survive.

She walked along the coast of the sea, shivering against the brutally icy winds that knifed off of the waters, looking out at the high waves that slapped the shore like blasts from artillery guns. The sky was a mottled gray, and she pulled her cloak closer around her— a heavy black thing, made from the pelt of some animal, with a silver buckle; she had found it in a broken-down home on the very outskirts of the city.

I need to get moving faster, she thought. The attack’s completely wrapped up by now, and they’ll be sending students back home if they haven’t already, looking for survivors in the city and keeping track of who died and who lived… and the White Fang will be on my trail.

But she hadn’t really left much of one, if she could help it. She had disguised her scent with pine, and walked in streams, when she could stand it, but the water was so bitterly cold that she couldn’t keep it up for long. She had tried to keep to the edges of towns, so no one would see her, but still, the fear of being caught by the White Fang dogged her, hunting her persistently and relentlessly. As long as she kept them running after her, she kept them distracted, and she kept Yang safe. The minute that protection failed— the minute she was caught— Yang was in danger, and that was a thought that she could not stand.

Only by disappearing and keeping them hunting me can I save her in a way I could not save her before. It was my fault she got hurt; I must ensure it does not happen again.

Suddenly, a thought struck her, prominent as if someone had placed it directly in her mind, and she froze dead in her tracks, heart beating violently in her chest.

But she’s not safe, you careless fool, because you’ve done nothing about your Bond, and she’ll know where you are at all times because of it…. she might even try to follow you, and get herself killed!

“You idiot!” she hissed, berating herself for such an ignorant mistake. She should have broken it the moment she fled Beacon, should have been smarter. Now, she had a tether, following her at all times. Who knew what Yang would do? Blake didn’t have any clue any more, because she would have changed. Changed after Blake’s departure, whether she liked it or not.

But then, suddenly and chillingly, Adam’s words rang loudly in her mind, sneering and taunting. “What goes around comes around, my love, and I swear, Blake, by the end of tonight, you will leave her— your Bond with her will be over, and you will break it. Willingly.”

So he had been right on one count: Blake had left Yang before the night was over, and she shivered at the prospect of having him be right on the other prediction as well.

It must be done, she thought in anguish, trying and failing to push those needling words out of her mind. It must, do you understand? It doesn’t matter how I feel about it, but I have to… I have…

But as she stood there, shaking, her hands in fists against her sides, something stopped her. Try as she might to summon up the will to do it— to speak those words— ‘I renounce everything I have ever told you. I revoke our Bond. For in promises broken and vows deceived, this Bond stands for a trust that no longer exists. In Death, all Bonds are split; in Life, a fire has been extinguished, and this connection stands no longer. I revoke the soul I share and rescind words of hope that were spoken; I give up the recourse of that which a Bond entails. For though it is in passing that we achieve immortality, living forever is a dark path. No one may live eternal, so it is that lingering, old ghosts are resurrected. I take back my soul and by my own shoulder protect my own. I offer this up now; this ossified Bond I shatter, never to be renewed again’— she just could not do it.

“I can’t,” she whispered brokenly, falling to her knees in the middle of the track, overwhelmed by self-loathing as she covered her face with her hands. “I can’t.”

It was more than the fact that she loved Yang, loved her more than life itself, and it wasn’t the fact that she didn’t have the courage to do it, and it wasn’t the fact that she didn’t mean the words that were used to break a Bond— she could never mean those words, truly, could never mean that she didn’t want to be a part of Yang any longer. It was one plain, simple fact, speaking out in her mind in a small, sensible voice: haven’t you hurt Yang enough? What will she do if you break your Bond with her? It might kill her, break her spirit irrevocably— even more than you already have.

Practically choking on her grief and self-hatred, she rose to her feet, wiping the tears from her eyes and continuing down the track. There was nothing she could do about it now— nothing she could do, really, except to keep running, to put as much distance between them as she possibly could. The more distance, the more Yang would be unable to follow after her. It was the only solace she had, the faintest glimmer of light in the darkness that had engulfed her life, and she clung to it desperately.

She fell asleep that night in some abandoned farm-shed miles away from the nearest town. The inside was warmer than it was outside, but it was still freezing, and her breath plumed out in front of her in a silvery cloud that dissipated as soon as it appeared. Pillars of rotten wood held up the rickety roof, and limp straw was scattered all over the floor. Walking to the farthest corner, and settling down there, she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and took out an apple, stripping it to the core in seconds. She had no appetite— hadn’t since the previous night when her life had been torn apart— but she had to survive. A feral, animalistic need to live, to press on despite the fact that she didn’t have anything left to live for, really, kept her going, and she didn’t fight it. Her life was as good as forfeit, but if she could lure the White Fang away from Patch, it was worth it. Rustling her cloak closer, with a sigh and a shiver, she slipped into sleep.

She was not surprised when she found herself, what seemed like moments later, a beautifully colored dream.

She hadn’t expected them to go away, and she had known they would be ever-present and even worse after she had killed Adam, no matter how pretty and unmalicious they appeared to be at first glance. Such was the laws of her nightmares, awful as it was. She had to ride it out and wake up the next morning… but when she saw the slim, beautiful figure of the warrior stalking towards her, a part of her didn't ever want to wake up.

Blake was in an empty clearing washed in silver moonlight, the slightest chill emitting from the shadows, and with a sudden awful pang, she remembered the light from the Tower, the silver light that apparently had swallowed up Ruby, the sister whose fate, after what had happened last night, she did not know. A forest ringed this clearing, and it was from this forest that the warrior was walking out of. She slowly padded out from between the slender elder trees, their branches bent towards her like the arms of old friends, weaving together their strong protective boughs, and as she emerged into the ethereal light, exposing her gaunt face even further— though she had already known who it was; she would know her face anywhere— Blake’s heart broke in two.

“Blake,” Yang whispered, her barely-audible voice full of longing, as she stopped, several feet away, and as Blake looked into her eyes, they were absolutely and completely heartbroken.

Blake fell to her knees, barely feeling the impact; it had all the soft, padded edges of a dream. But the clarity of Yang's eyes was very clear, as was the remote look she saw there, as if she were a million miles away, untouchable though she was right there.

"Yang." Blake forced the words out as if they were shards of broken glass, scraping her throat, making her choke on regret. "Are you... are you... Do you hate me now?"

"I could never hate you, Blake. Not any more than I could hate a part of myself." Her eyes slid away, not meeting Blake’s. "There's an absence now," she murmured. “It’s weird; it’s inside of me, it’s like… our Bond isn’t broken. It’s asleep, it can’t be woken by me alone… It’s empty. It’s not like something that is shattered— it’s something that’s melting away… and it’s because of you." She looked towards the sky, and the frosty light of the moon reflected back within her eyes. "I know what my father feels like now, at least. To be abandoned by someone you love like nothing else... but that doesn't matter. Something inside you is hard to explain, Blake. Something beautiful, but something broken, too. Maybe you've been singled out for a special destiny. Special torments. And maybe that destiny doesn't leave room for me.”

“Destiny—”

Yang spoke softly, but it made Blake break off her sentence immediately. “I’ve realized something. Between the months I might have come to know you, but I don't own you. That much is clear."

“No, Yang, that’s…” She trailed off.

Yang paused. "I loved you. I set you free. You left and did not return. What should that tell me? I take it hard, but it's hard to take, knowing you left voluntarily. I'm falling behind, always falling behind, seeing you always in the distance but never able to reach you..."

"I loved you," Blake said hoarsely, crawling forward. "You must know - I loved you more than I thought I could love anyone." She half-turned away, eyes stinging. "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa," she choked. "My fault, my own fault, my own most grievous fault."

She felt Yang's hand touch her cheek, guiding her face towards hers. Her eyes were impossibly sad. When their foreheads rested together, the night whirled around them, and the stars died. They were in the heart of the darkness, utterly alone. The only light came from the pinprick of white that was the moon, illuminating them in a spotlight of silver.

"I should have been injured, not you. I'm sorry," Blake breathed. "I'm so sorry, Yang."

"Blake," Yang whispered, the name in her mouth like a cry of senseless grief, eyes shining bright and broken,"if you ever loved me at all, then why did you leave me?"

Before Blake could speak, the dream surged around her, spinning furiously, leaving her staggering. It swirled wildly like the heart of a maelstrom, forces tearing at her like she had been thrust into a tornado, and then it upended, heaving, sending her plummeting into a maw of blackness. A great wave of shadows descended on Blake's vision as she plunged down—

down—

—down—

—down—

into darkness

into the shadows of a heaving ocean of Grimm

into the echoing space of heartbeats

into endless tunnels and twisting passages

into swirling nightmares and broken vows

into agony worse than any breaking of a Bond

into the cries of the dead and the wails of the lost

into chilling ice and freezing rain

into the blazing light of lilac eyes and golden sunlight hair

into warm laughter brushing by her ear before it faded into nothing

into the lamentations of phoenixes

into the mournful songs of crickets

into the shining light that sank in darkness

into the void

into complete and utter

silence.

And Yang was torn from her -

rent apart and scattered into a thousand glittering shards

blazing away like a golden comet's tail as agony tore through Blake, making her twist and writhe

she screamed Yang's name, but nothing answered, just howling wind spiraling away, as fire rocked her to the bone

bubbles and life wrenched from her jaws to flood the abyss unnamed stars flashed behind her eyes in the inky depths. Faces swam before her, too quickly for her to grab—

— and not one of them was Yang's.

Blake awoke, a scream dying in her throat, the sharp coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. She remembered the dream in sharp detail, and, her body turning traitor on her, she turned and retched. Sweating shivers made her back arch as her body struggled to expel all the poisons she'd accumulated. Swearing, she rolled to her feet and burst out of the shed, starting off down the broken dirt path that wound away in front of her.

What use was it to pretend that she was fine— or for that matter, to pretend that Yang was better off now? It was all Adam’s fault, but it was hers as well. She missed Yang, missed her with a gnawing ache that was almost physical. For what was the happenstance with that which was lost and broken, she knew that their paths were unlikely to ever intersect again. And if they did, it would never be the same. Broken hearts never healed the same way. Blake was no more the girl who had met Yang in the Emerald Forest then Yang was a girl of light.

I am sorry, she thought, looking up at the blue sky, filled with wispy cirrus clouds, which was slowly clearing as the brisk wind pushed the snowstorms away. There’s no forgiveness, not for what I’ve done… but maybe there’s one more thing I can do before I disappear into the wilderness of Remnant for good.

And with that thought in mind, she drew a pen and sheet of crumpled paper out of her pack of supplies, and slowly, carefully, began to write a letter. / / / 

A/N: Looks like Blake feels as though her presence is almost like Qrow’s is, in canon: misfortune to those she loves around her. It’s not her actual semblance, of course— she’s got the shadow-clones— and Qrow’s semblance isn’t misfortune in this universe, (it’s turning into a crow, here) but it’s an interesting parallel I noticed after completing this chapter. Those two have a lot in common (like being my favorite characters, haha.)

For those curious, or simply geographical nerds, I would mark her as being roughly 30 to 40 miles away from Beacon at this point in time. Girl runs fast and covers a lot of ground when she wants to. And as we know, dreams are not necessarily a reflection on reality, nor is dream!Yang in this chapter a true reflection of how she feels in real life. In the next chapter, we turn back to her story after the events of the Fall of Beacon.

[robinhoodrevisited]

The Prince Arrives

Sherwood Forest. (Robin runs through the forest and slides down the side of a ravine. The gang follow. Robin hops over an old fallen tree, climbs up the other side and lies down to spy on the road. Will is next to arrive.) Robin: (to Will:) “Get down! Get down! (Will lies down on Robin’s right. Djaq climbs up and lies down between Will and Robin. They look down see Allan leading Prince John’s train through the forest: a coach, two outriders and several soldiers. Little John and Clarke climb up and lay down to Robin’s left, leaving a space in between. to Little John:) Where’s Much?” Little John: “Don’t know.” (Much comes running up, trips and falls between Robin and Clarke, landing awkwardly on top of her.) Clarke: “Ow!” Much: “Ooh! Sorry Princess.” Robin: “Shh. (Allan looks around as if he heard something, but doesn’t react. Clarke quietly grunts in pain.) The Prince is finally paying Nottingham a visit. I think it’s time we gave him the welcome he deserves, don’t you? (Getting up:) Come on. (Allan stops his horse and motions to the coach to continue. The gang goes round the back, walking silently behind the wagon. Robin walks behind Little John, Djaq, Will and Much, who are holding their weapons ready and creeping up behind two soldiers bringing up the rear of the coach. Much looks at Will. Will looks at Djaq. Djaq nods to Little John, who strides up behind the two large men and brings his staff down on the back of their heads. One is knocked out, but the other turns around and Little John knocks him out with a swinging blow, then extends his arm forward, inviting Robin for his turn. Robin hops up on the back of the coach and jerks his head forward. Mouths:) Come on.” (Robin pulls himself up to the top of the coach, crawls along its cover, then jumps down next to the driver. The driver gasps and Robin kicks him in the face, knocking him onto the ground. Robin sits in his place and takes the reins, bringing the coach to a halt as the gang fight off the remaining soldiers. Little John fights one. Will pulls off the other outrider. Djaq uses her sword and blocks a soldier, Much pulls a soldier off his horse. Djaq wounds a soldier, then runs to defend Will’s back as Much fights on. Little John knocks out a soldier with his staff. More soldiers run off. Robin pushes a soldier into the side of the coach, slices his back, then peers inside the coach. Much runs to the coach. Will and Djaq are on the other side. A well-dressed man is inside, looking warily at them all.) Palmer: “Hello.” Much: “Good God, we’ve captured Prince John.” (Robin and Will each open a door. Robin pulls Palmer out.) Robin: “Come here.“ (Will climbs through the coach. Robin lets Palmer go.) Palmer: (Timidly:) “I’d be very grateful if you might spare my life.” (Djaq and Much lift a chest off the back of the coach and set it on the ground.)

Little John: “There must be gold inside.” (Little John stabs at the lock with the butt of his staff.) Robin: “Let’s go.” (Robin and Will each grab one of Palmer’s arms and drag him to the chest. Little John bends over the chest, pulls off the broken lock and flips open the clasp.) Little John: “This has to be the gold. (Little John opens the chest and it’s empty.) Nothing. (Slams the lid shut. Robin stands up and faces Palmer. Little Johns stands.) Absolutely nothing!” Clarke: (Limping heavily on to the scene:) “That’s because he’s not Prince John. He’s a double.” Robin: “Well, Prince John is a coward.” Much: (To Clarke:) “How’s the leg?” Clarke: “Not great.” (A bird squawks repeatedly in alarm. Robin hears it and listens. Djaq looks up. Much turns around and a tall man with a cloth over his face punches him out. Robin rushes forward to take him on as Much falls unconscious to the ground. Robin ducks the man’s large staff as Will and Djaq face a second man running in to attack. Will parries with his hand axe. Robin punches his man solidly in the jaw, but he’s not fazed. A third man runs in startling the horses and sending them barrelling towards Clarke who, due to her bad leg cannot move out of the way in time. Little John turns around and is kicked in his unprotected chest as Djaq swings her sword at the second man’s back, spinning herself round, but the man ducks it. Robin punches the tall man again, then gets a fist in return. The second man holds his staff at both ends, blocking Will’s axe, and kicks him in the chest, knocking him onto his back. The stranger turns to Djaq as the first man throws Robin onto the low roof. Djaq tries to kick the staff from the second man’s hand, but he catches her leg and pushes her onto her back. The tall man punches Robin again, sending him to the ground and Robin’s knife tumbles from its sheath. The first man raises his staff with the intent of thrusting its end into Robin, but Robin pushes himself backward and it harmlessly hits the ground between his legs instead. As the second man holds his staff at Djaq’s throat, the tall one reaches up for another try, but suddenly stops.) Legrand: “Robin! (The other two men, who have their opponents at their mercy, stop and look at Legrand. A deep, ringing laugh:) Ha-ha-ha! (Robin kicks him in the groin.) Oof!”

(Legrand doubles over and Robin kicks him in the face, sending him sailing to his back. Robin jumps to his feet, picks up his knife, holds it at Legrand’s neck, and pulls down the scarf with his other hand.) Robin: “Legrand!” Legrand: “I have a message from the King. “ Much: (Staggering to his feet, sees everyone accounted for:) “Where’s Clarke? (Much looks around and sees Clarke lying on the ground. He rushes to her, dropping his sword on the way.) Clarke! (Djaq is quick on his heels. Much lifts her head into his arms.) Clarke, Clarke, Clarke.” Clarke: (Dazed:) “I’ll be all right.” Much: “Sh-sh.” (Clarke faints.) Djaq: “Clarke!... Clarke!” (Much and Djaq stare at each other, fearing the worst. Will, Robin and Little John come over. Robin hangs and shakes his head.) Robin: “Lay her down. Come on, give her some space. What happened?” Palmer: “The horses. (Stepping forward as the gang turn to him:) The horses were spooked and ran straight into her.” Djaq: (Concerned:) “She’s been trampled?” Palmer: (Calmly:) “No, she’s just had the wind knocked out of her, she’ll be fine.” Much: “Oh thank God. (Turning towards Legrand:) You might have announced yourselves a little less violently! (Looks at Robin.) Huh?” Robin: (Nods, turns to Legrand:) “What’s this message?” (As Robin walks over to Legrand, Palmer looks down at Clarke and gives her a curious look.) Djaq: (Noticing:) “What is it?” Palmer: “How did she know I wasn’t the Prince?” Djaq: (Smirks:) “Because she is Royalty herself.” Will: (At Palmer’s confused look:) “She’s the Prince’s niece.” Palmer: (Taken aback:) “Oh my.” Will: “Who are you?” Palmer: “Benjamin Palmer, physician to Prince John. (Little John tilts his head, amazed. Looks up.) But neither his supporter nor his apologist.”

(Robin leans against a narrow tree looking at a piece of brown waxed paper with an ornate border framing a picture of a king holding a sword under a large eye.) Robin: (Puzzled:) “This is it? The King’s message.” Legrand: “You’re hard men to find. We’ve been wandering this infernal forest for days.” (Little John bumps into Legrand’s shoulder. Legrand and Little John look back and glare at each other.) Robin: “And this... an eye looking down upon a king. (Looks at Legrand.) It could mean anything. (Legrand walks over to check on Clarke.) The King gave you no more clues? (Legrand shakes his head once.) Well, who’s the contact?” Legrand: “A wool merchant, goes by the name of Paxton. He awaits us. The King was insistent we complete this mission by Midsummer’s Day.” Robin: “And what are we looking for?” Legrand: “Thesaurus Patriae.” Djaq: “That’s Latin... for-” Clarke: “Treasure of the nation.” (Robin thinks what that could mean.) Legrand: (Looks down at Clarke:) “She speaks Latin. What a woman.” Djaq: “She’s a Princess.” Clarke: (Looks up at Legrand:) “Do you have a brother?” Legrand: “Darius. Yeah I do. How did you know?” Clarke: “He was one of my guards when I first went into hiding. He taught me how to fight.” Legrand: (Grins:) “Small world. Is he...? (Clarke shakes her head.) Oh. Did he die well?” Clarke: “Like a true warrior.” Legrand: (Nods, sombrely:) “Good. Just as he always wanted. (Little John steps in front of Legrand with both their staffs. Little John sets the ends of each on the ground and looks back and forth between his and Legrand’s, which is a bit taller, thicker, and reinforced with iron and a round, spiked head. Takes his staff:) Thanks.” (Robin studies the message again.) Will: (To Palmer:) “Does the Prince usually use you as his double?” Palmer: “Hm? Oh, no. Two soldiers reported seeing assassins in the forest. (Much looks at Robin.) The Prince needed a double. He couldn’t cancel his dinner with the Council of Nobles tomorrow and there was no-one else. I could have refused, but I’d have been beheaded. (Djaq chuckles.) Mind you, my predecessor was beheaded because he couldn’t find a case of scrofula.” Will: “And what’s scrofula?” Djaq: “It’s a very rare disease.” Palmer: “So rare I can’t find a case of it either.” Djaq: “Legend has it, it can only be cured by the touch of a king.” Will: “So why would he want to find a case of it then?” Palmer: “Prince John’s obsessed with it.” Clarke: “He once saw his father, Henry, successfully cure a child with scrofula. (Will sneers, guessing it was a ruse.) My father told me that when I was a kid.” Little John: “I heard it as well.” Palmer: “Prince John brought me with him hoping I might find a case of scrofula for him to cure, like his father did, to prove that he’s the rightful king of England, not his brother Richard. (Will nods, understanding now.) Of course there’s absolutely no evidence that a king’s touch cures anything. But as I’d like to keep my head, I—I—I’ll not be the one to tell him.” Robin: (Walks over:) “You’re free to go.” Palmer: (Looks at them.) “Thank you all... (to Robin:) ...Thank you for not killing me.“ Robin: “So... will you go back to Prince John?” Palmer: “Well... I suppose I should.” Robin: “Right. (to Much:) Tie him up.” (Much looks questioningly at Robin. Palmer is confused.)

Nottingham Town. (The royal train arrives in town. Prince John rides in an open carriage. The townsfolk cheer and throw rose petals on the street in front of him.) Nottingham Castle. Courtyard. (The Sheriff steps out of the main doors, Gisborne behind him. The carriage enters through the portcullis. Marian & Isabella come out behind Gisborne. The carriage stops. Prince John gets out, scowling at the Sheriff. The Sheriff comes down the steps, arms outstretched.) Sheriff: “Welcome to Nottingham, Your Highness.” (Bows.) Prince John: “You’re still alive.” Sheriff: (Stands.) “Yes, of course.” Prince John: “Bit of a close call recently though I hear. (Prince John goes up the steps, glances at Gisborne, then stops at Isabella as the Sheriff glares at Gisborne.) What’s your name?” Isabella: “Isabella.” (Smiles slyly.) Prince John: “Lovely! (Prince John lifts her chin up.) Italian or Spanish?” Isabella: “Which do you prefer?” (Prince John smiles and chuckles. Isabella chuckles, too. Marian rolls her eyes which the Prince notices. Just as he’s about to say something however, They hear horseshoes on the cobblestones and Prince John turns and steps towards it.)

(A soldier leads in a horse with Palmer face down over its back, his hands tied and a cloth tied over his face. The soldier unties him and Palmer stands facing the Prince. He takes off his blindfold and chuckles nervously.) Prince John: “Speak.” Palmer: “Congratulations. We were ambushed, not you. Y—y—your plan worked, Your Highness. Y—your brilliance is unsurpassed.” Prince John: “Who attacked you?” Palmer: “Robin Hood.” (Marian smiles but quickly hides it, keeping her head downwards as Prince John closes his eyes in fury. The Prince turns around and heads for the castle door.) Prince John: “Sir Guy. (Gisborne follows the Prince as the Sheriff watches them go. Up the steps:) Prove your loyalty to me. Rid me of Robin Hood. Now.” (Gisborne turns on his heel and hurries back down the steps as Isabella, the Sheriff, a bouncing Palmer and guards follow Prince John inside. Marian weighs her options and heads for the castle gates.) Interior corridor. Sheriff: (Hurriedly following the Prince:) “Sire, how may I be of assistance to you?” Prince John: (Stops, turns:) “Oh, my dearest Vaisey. I have a task for you that I can entrust to no other.” Sheriff: “Anything, Sire. Name it.” Prince John: (Smiling Malevolently:) “I just knew I could count on you.”