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mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

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Guardian of Creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 14

*Author’s note*

Well it has been awhile since I did an update with this series but I finally took some time and finally came around to do this chapter. Now idk when I’ll do the next chapter but I hope it’ll be soon. I really don’t wanna give up on this series and I hope you all haven’t given up either. I know the Queen/BoRhap fandom’s been almost silent lately but I hope we stand strong.

Warnings: swearing, torture, abuse, animal (in this case magical creature) cruelty/abuse

Chapter 14,

Kidnapped, tortured and broken

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@simonedk

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@queendeakyy

@glitter-at-the-panic

@geek-and-proud

@kinole009x

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All you saw was pure darkness. All you could hear was the sound of your heavy breathing and you thought you could also hear the shrill of a woman’s voice. Suddenly your vision came back to you however you found out that you were forced down on your knees with your arms behind your back.

“So this is the so called human savior that my foolish nephew Crowley found eh?” you looked up and saw the familiar crazed curly hair of John’s mother Bellatrix Deacon. Seeing her up close and personal was like you were looking at a rapid animal.

Her pupils were so dilated you could barely see the brown color in them, hell if you didn’t know any better you’d say she could pass off having black eyes.

“Indeed it is.” The shadow wizard wearing glasses and had sleeked back black hair and piercing cold light blue eyes said. She scoffed. “Filthy muggles. Thinking they can learn our ways of magic! The world would be better off without ‘em!”

“Madam has such a sharp sense. Clever in every sense…..” a large fat, bald male said.

“Shut up Gollum!” she snapped at the creature. Gollum, oh yeah you remember reading about them in the Magical creatures book. They’re basically slaves to Wizards but never mistake them for weak. They may look fat and slow but they are able to lift things 50x their own weight, and can snap a person’s spine in half if they are ordered to do so by their master. The Gollum submitted and whimpered fearfully at Bellatrix’s fury. “Did you find the others?”

The man snapped his fingers and soon more shadow wizards came in, coming beside them were cocoon-like shadows. One large one stood beside you and the other looked smaller, soon enough the smaller one revealed itself to be Roger and the taller one was Thor. From Thor there was Brian and Seraffel. And from Roger there was John and Ardeth.

“Hello sweetie, you miss me?” Bellatrix said to John.

“I could say a lot of things about you and not one of them would be anything in the ties of family feeling.” She did a slight tick.

“Is that any way to speak to your mother!?”

“I think we have very different definitions of being a ‘mother’.” Her right eye twitched then she slapped John across the face, the slap actually echoing throughout the entire room.

“DAD!!” Thor and Seraffel cried out.

“You psychotic bitch! Touch him again and I’ll freeze your ass so thick that not even a blue flamed dragon will be able to thaw you!” Seraffel growled threateningly. Bellatrix then turned to Seraffel and even gave him a slap across the face.

“You do that and you and your brother will be locked somewhere where not even the crows can land their droppings on you.” She hissed into his face. “What of that snake beast that’s always with them?” she said as she stood back up and paced in front of you all.

“We’re taking care of him. In fact I gave him a special little concoction of my own design. He’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“Excellent. And what of little Serafina? Your brothers having their way with her?” she cackled softly with a sickening grin.

Jesus this woman….if you could just move your arms you’d sure would like to wipe that grin off her face. How dare she speak of Serafina like that!

“She was not with us when you sent these mages to collect us.” Ardeth spoke. Bellatrix cackled and she said.

“As if I would ever believe that, Arabic dog!” She leaned down towards Ardeth. She stood back up and walked towards the shadow wizard wearing the glasses and continued, “Now come on enough games where is she? That little wench has been clingy to my poor excuse of a son ever since they could walk. Wherever he goes, she’s sure to follow. Like a good little puppy.”

“I’m—afraid he’s not lying.” She turned to the man. Her facial expression in a stoic gawk. Her eyes wide as she let out a whisper.

“She wasn’t there?” the man shook his head. Bellatrix then began to frantically pace around the nearby fireplace which was roaring with a huge fire.

Then in a flash she raised her wand and fired a green fire blast at the fireplace which made the fire explode behind her, her hair fanning out like a deranged demon. With a flick of her wrist with her wand, a whip came out and attacked the shadow wizard standing behind John.

“How dare you—” a female shadow witch proclaimed but she was silenced when the whip wrapped around her throat. She was the flung out the window before Bellatrix attacked another male shadow wizard that stood behind you. She forced him across the room, hitting the wall.

“GO! FIND HER! FIND HER YOU MONGRELS!!!!!” she roared out in pure anger. Not even wanting to test her again, the shadow wizards disappeared all except their leader. “Corvus! Put the creatures in their cages! I want to have a little conversation with my sonny boy. Mummy to son!” She said as she went up to John and actually pulled him free from his shadow binds, pulling him right up to her face.

You as well as the others were soon being forced to walk out of the room and towards what you would assume would be the dungeons.

“Dad! No dad!” the boys called out.

“John!” you called out.

“I’ll be okay you three. I’ll be okay.” Was the last thing you heard him say to you before the last thing you saw was his mother smirking maliciously at her own son.

You were then pushed into a cage and heard it lock behind you before the shadow wizard known as Corvus walked away after sending the others into their own cages. Already you could hear Thor and Seraffel trying to bust down their cages.

“It’s no use boys.” Brian said.

“What you’re giving up already Uncle Brian! You know who our dad’s with we can’t just leave him alone with her!” Seraffel said.

“I understand your concern for your father ice dragon. But these are not ordinary cells. These have been engraved with ancient ruins. Which means we can’t use our powers and no amount of strength can break these bars.” Ardeth explained.

“So-so we’re just gonna stay locked away down here!?” Thor asked is disbelief. You wanted to agree with them but upon closer inspection you saw that what Ardeth had said was true. Ruins aligned the bars; they were small and faint but you could somehow see them carved into the iron.

You sat down with your knees to your chest and thought about John and prayed to God that he’d survive whatever torture his mother was about to do to him. You also prayed that wherever Serafina was, she’d hear him and come save him as well as the rest of you.

*3rd Person POV*

John collapsed to the ground. His whole body trembling after being hit repeatedly and mercilessly with the Crucio curse. He was then spun onto his back while his mother hovered over him with the very same knife she’d use on him as a child. He once again felt like that frightened child as she held that knife right up against his cheek, allowing him to feel the hauntingly familiar steel blade.

“That wench of yours has never once left your side and now she just pops off to Merlin knows where! You will tell me where you sent that FILTHY HALFBLOOD WENCH!!” she first started off in an icy whisper before finally screaming in his face.

“Don’t know……she went……I swear! I don’t know where she is!” John pleaded with his mother.

“Oh I don’t believe you.” Without hesitating, she held down her son’s head with her left hand and with the right, she began to carve out a word under John’s forearm. Echoing throughout the entire mansion, John’s agonizing screams pierced the air. Mixed in with his mother’s sadistic cackling it was like being in an insane asylum.

Below in the dungeons, everyone could hear the agonizing screams of John and Bellatrix’s insane cackling and demanding screams. Thor and Seraffel shook in pure anger before they decided to hit their cages as hard as they could with their bodies. Slamming against the iron bars trying to break free (even though it was pointless).

*2nd Person POV*

Hearing John’s screams just made your heart stop and your stomach drop. There was nothing you could do. It was almost too painful for you to listen to John’s screams anymore, so you closed your eyes and covered your ears but you could still hear his agonizing screams.

Goddamnit Serafina where are you!? Can’t you hear your husband’s pain? You guys are already connected so you should feel it right!?

Footsteps soon came down the corridor, through whatever light could be seen from the moonbeams that shined in the dungeons, you saw that it was the Deacon’s Gollum as well as the glasses wearing Shadow Mage known as Corvus.

“The dragons, the elf and the Nokk. You four are to come with us.”

“Oh yeah? And where’s that?” asked Roger.

“Let’s just say your presence is needed—elsewhere.”

“And just what do you mean by elsewhere?” Seraffel demanded.

“That is none of your concern dragon. Just know that if you refuse to cooperate,” that’s when you felt something beginning to squeeze your heart. Your throat clumped up and you could literally hear your heart beat ringing in your ears, “The muggle will die.”

“You sick bastards let them go!” Seraffel shouted.

“They’ve got nothing to do with this!” Thor tried to reason.

“Oh you’re right. They do have nothing to do with this, after all—they’re nothing to us. Just another, worthless, pathetic muggle born.” Corvus’ eyes turned to you.

From what you could see, his blue eyes were nothing but ice cold as the pain in your chest continued to grow and grow. Your heart racing even faster, pleading for air. You tried to speak but it was as if your voice was silenced permanently.

“Alright we’ll comply!” Brian shouted. Corvus turned to Brian’s cell. “We’ll comply with you. Just don’t hurt them.” Corvus’ lips turned up into a slight grin and just as suddenly the pain was in your chest, it was released and you let out a loud, desperate inhale of air.

You began coughing and felt something warm land on your lips, you raise your fingers to see just what it was only to see the familiar thick red substance of blood staining your fingertips.

“(Y/n), you alright?” Roger spoke to you worriedly.

“I’m—I’m okay.” Soon you heard the cell doors open and out came Thor, Seraffel, Brian and Roger. The Gollum tied up Brian’s hands with rope while Thor, Seraffel and Roger were given chains around their necks. Soon the four of them were led out like dogs on a leash until they disappeared up the stairs.

“Ardeth?” you call out.

“I’m here.”

“Do—do you think…..we’re gonna get out of this alive?” he was silent for a long moment.

“To be honest, I do not know. But we cannot allow them to break us, Shadow mages pride themselves in their arrogance. And harming others is what gives them that ego boost.”

“But what about Brian and the others?”

“I wouldn’t worry about them. All of them are clever and strong. They won’t break as easy as the Shadow mages think they will.” You hope he was right.

*Roger’s POV*

We were lead outside the manor and saw a bunch of other Shadow Mages outside, however unlike the ones that captured us, these guys had a jaguar brands on their arms.

“As promised, four new toys to try out.” Corvus stated. A female Shadow mage with silver hair and piercing honey-like eyes came up to Thor and lifted his chin up.

“The dragons and the Nokken will be most useful. The elf, maybe not so much.”

“As I’m sure you’re aware of Celina, Elves are notorious for their healing abilities. Perhaps he can be used to heal some of your clan members.” Celina smirked before releasing Thor’s chin and she said to Johnathan.

“Alright Corvus, you’ve got a deal.” She gestured one of her boys to come forward and he handed Johnathan a sack of sorts. Johnathan opened it to reveal about 200 pounds. These sick, twisted Mages, they’re selling us like cattle!

“Pleasure doing business with you Felidae.” Johnathan said with a smirk before he and the Gollum walked back towards the manor. Soon each of us were pulled by our binds and forced to walk with these mages now.

My nephews and I were the ones who tried to break free from our bonds. Chaining us up like we were no more than human dogs to them, I especially hated the feeling of being bounded by something. Minus Serafina’s magic, having being bound by something whether it’s magic or chains it’s like—being molested by an unknown force that keeps a tight hold to you and will never let go.

For days we trudged on the open country side of jolly ol England. I don’t know whether they were trying to break us this way or just tire us out, either way it was a foolish way. Once I trekked the entire land that would soon become both North and South America twice without rest. Brian’s kind, they can last several days without rest since Elves have a slower metabolism, basically they’re super human and don’t break that easy if they don’t get food or water for a few days.

And of course with Thor and Seraffel being dragons, they’ll last since Ardeth’s people supplied with a dragon sized meal for them. But I knew their bonds must have bothered them as much as it did me. For the Mages also decided to bind them by their backs, preventing them from spreading their wings once in a while.

You know how you’ll see birds shake themselves out by flapping their wings, well that keeps blood circulating through their wings and keeps them healthy. When dragons are in their human form, they have to every once in a while spread their wings out for the same reason, cause if they don’t it causes them serious back pains and can even paralyze their wings if bounded long enough.

By day 5, I could already see from the lads that their backs were starting to ache them as they would shift their shoulder blades, roll their shoulders, anything to try and ease the aching muscles in their back.

It even got to the point where Thor was so uncomfortable, he actually created a thunderstorm right over us. Not any rain but there were definitely some thunder and purple lightning flashing the sky.

“Oi Storm dragon! Yah might wanna cease this yammerin in the sky yah?!” one of the Shadow mages spoke with an Irish accent.

“He would if you would allow us to stretch our wings out you damn eejit.” Seraffel defended his little brother. The Irish shadow mage turned around and was about to punch Seraffel across the face when he was forced to stop mid-walk by none other than Celina.

“My husband paid good money for these beasts. If any of them are harmed, it’ll be your head Seanie do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.” She freed him which made him drop to the ground.

“Keep moving, I promised him we’d be back in 6 days with his prizes.” She ordered the rest of the shadow mages. They obeyed her with a ‘yes ma’am’ and forced us to continue walking.

The next morning I smelt something in the air. It smelt like—brimstone? And…..horse manure? As we came over a hill that’s when we saw it.

A fortress like structure with walls well over Thor’s dragon height, steal iron and it even had runes on them. What do I mean by runes, well I mean magical ruin, symbols that date back to the Anglo-Saxon era of man. Serafina told me that only the witch or wizard that cast them can use their magic. So even if you are the most powerful creature on earth, if you’re trapped within a rune binding, you’re basically a sitting duck.

We got closer and closer to the fortress, meeting some other Shadow mages with the same Jaguar symbol branding on their arms, and even the fortress walls bared the Jaguar shadow symbol on a flag.

One shadow mage took control over Brian’s body using his shadow sorcery, 10 men came up to handle Thor and Seraffel (five shadow mages each took care of them) while 4 handled me.

I shifted into my white horse form trying to give me some more weight for them to try and drag them down but they held my chains firm.

“Open the gates!” Celina called out and when they did, we were greeted with an awful sight.

Obviously this place was bigger than it looked. A fight ring on one side of the fortress, a corral on the other, and a stable that went all the way around the entire fortress. Dragons from fire drakes, to the peaceful Asian water dragons were kept in cages, being whipped or forced to submit to the Shadow wizards that stood at their cages.

Elves in chains forced to be slaves as they walked back and forth making weapons or potions to probably benefit Grindelwald’s followers and maybe even harm us magical creatures. I turned around and watched as the gates were sealed shut and lit up with the runes, locking the doors permanently.

“Separate them!” the Irish mage Seanie said and soon the boys were taken towards the East end of the fortress while Brian was forcefully escorted to the upper levels of the fortress to be put to work. Meanwhile I was forced to walk straight ahead, and that’s when my heart dropped.

As we walked along further into the fortress, I could hear the sound of thunderous footsteps. But they didn’t come from any dragon or giant, not these steps I knew all too well.

That was the sound of a Nokken army.

And that’s when I saw them. All of my brothers being ridden on like actual horses, all of them walking as a single unit, looking down and obeying these Shadow mages commands. My younger brothers were now slaves to these brutes.

All of them—broken.

I let out a frantic, desperate neigh as I called out to them hoping they would recognize me. That’s when a tall, skinny black stallion looked up and nickered surprisingly. Tommy, my youngest brother in the pod. Back before I left the pod to join Fred and his cause, he and his twin brother Nikki were just colts.

But now he was practically a juvenile standard of Nokken. Black stallion (contrary to popular belief, we have to earn our white coats with age and experience. We’re first born as black stallions, then slowly become brown before finally we turn white).

That’s when I saw that bumping behind him was none other than his twin brother Nikki. No just how many of my younger brothers do they have here? What did these shadow wizards’ need us for? The Shadow Mage riding on top of Tommy gave him a whip to his behind to get him back in position.

I pleaded one more time to my brothers but this time none of them even looked up at me. They just kept marching, and marching, and marching.

Rage boiled up inside me till I just lashed out and tried to make a break for it. The shadow mages that held onto me, tried to pull me back but I was a true fighter, I wasn’t gonna obey them. I bucked, kicked, reared, stomped, anything I could to intimidate them.

That’s when a Bombarda spell came down just barely a foot in front of me stopping me in my tracks. Before me was (who to me) looked like the Shadow mage in charge.

He had sleeked back dark brown hair, piercing cold blue eyes much like Johnathan Corvus did, he wore a fancy black dress suit and tight leather gloves on his hand. Around his neck was a silver broach with (you guessed it) the Jaguar family crest. I huffed at this wizard as I bared my teeth at him, flicking my tail angrily telling him I meant business.

“What seems to be the problem cousins?” he spoke in a pure, rich British tone.

“We got us a wild one this time Malcolm.” Said one of the shadow mages that held me.

“Deacon and Black’s pet Nokk cousin.” A Scottish shadow mage spoke up.

“Really?” Malcolm piped in arrogantly. He walked up towards me, took out his wand and lifted my chin with it. “We’ve broken many stubborn Nokkens in our life time. This one will be no different.” How dare he……

I then took his wand between my teeth and snapped it in half before spitting it down to his feet. For someone who takes their shadow abilities based off the animal of humans, he definitely wasn’t no jaguar. Malcolm smirked at me, picked up his wand and snapped it till it was completely in two before carelessly tossing it aside.

I stomped my front right foot as a challenge for him but he looked at me as if I were nothing but a worthless dog, all bark and no bite.

“Conduct him like the rest of his brothers.”

“Yes cousin.” Just looking into this guy’s eyes alone I was thinking—sea snake. I huffed and snarled at him, keeping my eyes on him till he left me alone with his cousins.

I was dragged towards some sort of preparation stable. They placed me between these two iron-plated gate and wrapped my chains around the poles of them.

“Alright Graham, he’s all yours.” Said another Irish shadow mage. I reared my head downwards giving him a snarl as he jumped back trying to dodge my teeth. “Be careful though, he’s a wily one.” A deep chuckle came out from a blacksmith shop nearby.

A pudgy, fat old wizard soon came out wiping his hands of the grease and grime. Thinning white hair and a little tache above his upper lip and he spoke with a thick Irish accent.

“See ‘ow wily he is once I’m through with ‘em.” He took out a pair of scissors. Oh fuck no! he came right up to my mane and was about to cut a chunk of it off, but I quickly turned and bit him in the hand. He jumped back grabbing his hand and checked it out. I huffed and gave him my best stick eye.

No one but Serafina Deacon-Black touches this mane.

“A fighter eh?” next thing I know, my head was forced down into a bagged muzzle and I could only watch as each strand of white horse hair fell down onto the ground. The fat bastard chuckled as he continued to cut my mane but then another idea came into mine.

They may have pinned my neck and head, but these mages sure as hell didn’t take my whole body into consideration. So I simply just leaned a bit to the left, pinning his hand against my body and the iron cage. The fat mage cried in pain as he tried to free his hand and fell to the ground in the process.

Once he was free, I nickered out a laugh through the bag as I looked him in the eye. He gave me his best glare as he muttered.

“Alright.”

*3rd Person POV*

After completing their marching exercise, two of Roger’s brothers that he had seen Nikki and Tommy took notice of their older brother’s games with the old fat bastard (as all the Nokks referred to Graham). Nikki nickered curiously as Tommy turned and followed his older twin’s gaze.

Due to that little stunt, the shadow mages now used a spell to paralyze Roger’s whole body so that Graham could continue his work. Now taking a small knife, he picked up Roger’s front right hoof and began cleaning out all the gunk, dirt, coral, anything that could be trapped underneath his hooves.

Now he wouldn’t know at the time, but he managed to move that leg out of Graham’s grasp and quite literally, kick him in the ass. Leaving a well deserved hoofprint on the old geezer’s trousers. Roger laughed again through his sack-like muzzle. From their spot, Nikki grinned while Tommy whinnied out a laugh, remembering just how much Roger loved to toy with wizards, especially the male ones.

A shadow witch came and bound Roger’s leg that kicked Graham with a chain this time.

“I told yah, good ol iron will always do the thing instead of relying on magic too much!”

“And I told you yah old geezer, we don’t know how his leg got free! No one is ever able to break our shadow paralyzing spell.” The younger witch snapped at him before leaving. As Graham went back to work, this time hammering a new horse shoe onto Roger’s hoof. Roger nickered softly and soon felt his back foot raise up ready to kick Graham right in the face.

“Graham watch it!” another witch called out to him but it was too late. The second he looked up, Roger’s back leg socked him in the eye sending him onto his back. Nikki and Tommy both let out whinnies of laughter at their older brother’s games which soon caught the attention of the other Nokks as well, including Roger’s twin brother Vince.

Graham grunted and rubbed his head before glaring back at Roger who glared at him. This was the last straw for Graham, playtime was over.

He had all of Roger’s legs triple chained up to ensure that he couldn’t escape this time. In his shop, Graham was pumping up the brand of the Felidae family and was going to brand Roger with that very mark on his side.

“Yah bloody wanker this ‘ill teach yah to mess with me.” He muttered. Nikki cringed out a worried nicker while Tommy lowered his head bending his ears back so that he wouldn’t hear the painful roars to come.

In Vince’s stable he lowered his head, many Nokks, including him have broken once they’ve been branded. Being water creatures, any source of heat is painful for them if it gets on their skin, and this guy brands this in blue dragon fire which makes it twice as painful and more torturous than any Nokken could ever take.

Graham came onto Roger’s right side, holding the flamed poker with the brand at the end, chuckling arrogantly. But Roger wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He wriggled and wormed his head around until finally he got free of his muzzle, his head hovering straight over Graham’s entire body.

He let out a gasp while Roger smirked at him before giving him a well-earned, hard, painful headbutt, knocking Graham out cold.

“Graham, you alright mate?” asked a shadow mage as Roger snorted at him, claiming his victory. Nikki, Tommy and Vince all whinnied out laughter at their brother’s play.

“This Nokken is unlike any of the others. He’s even managed to slip pass our spells.” Said one witch. “How is this possible?”

“I don’t know.” Said another female witch as they both stared at Roger, who raised his head up high, glaring at anyone who dared try to brand him next.

“Elizabeth, Robyn, you two rally your brothers and—tell them to take this Nokk to the stables.” Said a male shadow wizard.

“Not the stables James.” Malcolm’s voice soon spoke up. The three of them turned to face the head of the Felidae shadow clan.

“Malcolm?” James asked.

“The corral. It’s time we broke this beast.” Malcolm’s final command was. And whatever the head of the house says, the others must obey.

*Roger’s POV*

The corral huh? Break me? Heh, good luck with that. I was taken to the corral and as if I were a normal horse, they saddled me up and forcefully tried to pry my mouth open so that I was forced to feel the touch of their shadow reins.

Let me tell you it felt and tasted revolting. Try to imagine a thick stripped down rag being gagged between your teeth that felt as hard as steel itself. I gave them a fight but one of them just had to cheat and give me a good, hard shock to force my mouth open.

I reared and shook my head as I felt the first shadow mage get on top of my back. All right, you Mages think you can break me? Well come on then, let’s ride!

The second that gate opened, I bucked madly which shook the young male wizard on top of my back like a ragdoll. I made an erupt stop and he slammed right into the back of my neck making him disoriented. I quickly spun around before giving him one final buck, sending him flying into the air and landing right on his stomach in the dirt.

I gave him an arrogant huff before turning to Malcolm who only gave me a glare. Next in line.

The next rider was a slightly older male shadow mage sporting both a tache and beard. Arrogantly he thought he could last longer than the other guy, yeah right. I took him out quicker than the last one, sending him right on his arse.

Of course as I walked away he shouted a profanity at me. Calling me a ‘lousy piece of horse shit’. And like hell I was just gonna take that lying down, I charged head on at him to which he ran for his life. Barely making it out of the corral before I gave him a quick bite to his arse. From the nearby stables, I could hear some of my brothers laughing out, I turned to see it was none other than my brothers Tommy, Vince and Nikki.

I nickered to them thanking them before trotting back, my tail flicking with pride and my head held high. Once I got back to my so called ‘kennel’ I snorted out at the witch who stood in front of it, making her reel back in disgust as I got back into place, nickering arrogantly. Next!

“This one will break ‘em.” A Welsh witch spoke as a big Scots shadow mage came at me with a horsewhip in hand. Please like he’ll be any different. I threw that big lug off of me under just one second. All it took was one good leap and he went soaring through the air, even knocked another wizard who was sitting on top of the corral fence.

Even some of the witches tried to ride me but just because they were girls didn’t mean I gave it to them any easier. In fact I made sure to buck those bitches off of my back even harder, because like I’ve said before.

The only witch who I allow on this stallion’s back is Serafina Deacon-Black.

Now to really show these bastards I meant business. I charged at one end of the fence baring my teeth and stomping my hooves aggressively. I then charged towards another section of the gate, scaring the shadow mages there, even knocking some of them into a trough. Finally my eyes turned to Malcolm, I charged head on right towards him.

The mages around him backed up but he stood firm with his hands behind his back and his eyes narrowed with hate as I growled right in his face, my breath even making parts of his short hair flow freely from its sleeked back form.

I stood face to face with Malcolm panting heavily. My eyes piercing red at this point, my blood boiling and my heart racing. You have proof yet you cocky little shit? I don’t go down without a fight.

“Celina!” Malcolm called out.

“Yes Malcolm?” the woman who brought us here stood by Malcolm’s side.

“Take this Nokken down to the boiler dungeon. No food or water. 2 weeks.”

“With pleasure my darling. Plus with a little more fire power from those fire drake’s we got, the boiler room will be extra hot for this one to—cool down.” She said with a sadistic smirk.

Next thing I know I was trapped within a cell and all I could feel was hot air surrounding me. It was also strange that I could feel that my legs weren’t chained up at all, nor was my snout or neck. But still it was scorching hot in here.

I laid down in my cage, smacking my lips already starting to feel my mouth growing dry. I huffed and nickered softly.

Damnit Serafina where are you? And Freddie, what happened to him? Was he here with us or was he still at the manor with John, (Y/n) and Ardeth? And just what the hell was this place exactly? Why would the Shadow mages want all of us creatures for?

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.)

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #lucifer morningstar #eve #amenadiel #michael #michael demiurgos #dromos #fanfic #my fic

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enby-hawke · 3 years

Text

For I Have Sinned Chapter 9

Read on AO3

Ship Malcolm/Leandra

Chapter 9: The Nightmare’s Wrath

TW for graphic violence, racist talk, exploitation of mages, and child abuse. I hope I'm not forgetting any. The Nightmare is not a happy guy.

Word Count: 11682

Leandra held her family’s rosary, counting the beads between her fingers as she sang the Chant silently to herself. She knew she was at the Maker’s mercy at this point and she had no idea what kind of god he would be right now. Was Isaac innocent enough to be spared His wrath? Sometimes she knew not even that mattered. She had to be strong for her cousin and yet she could find no more strength within her. She needed to make that phone call, inform Revka and yet how could she?

She felt frozen by death, he had come for her again. With her grandfather at least it was peaceful, in his sleep in his old age. But when the Hartlings were taken by an irreverent drunk driver who survived it himself, it shattered Mara, and she never quite recovered all the pieces.

Leandra remembered Mara’s dark days. She stopped eating as if she had to punish herself that she still lived. Leandra would bring over meals from her favorite restaurants just to get her to take a few bites. The grief made Leandra awkward. She was so used to leaning on Mara when it came turn to lean on her, Leandra found she could only give old advice, that Mara would see her family again at the Maker’s side.

But Mara asked a question that still scared Leandra to this day.

“What if the Chant’s all bullshit and that’s just something people say so we don’t get sad?”

Leandra didn’t know how to answer that. Mara was angry at the Maker and had lost her faith. Leandra didn’t know how to give it back to her when she had too many questions herself.

The conversation ended awkwardly, with Leandra trying to get Mara to eat again. A sidestep. A misstep.

Eventually Mara started pushing Leandra away and everyone else. She partied dangerously, experimenting with anything that could take the pain away for a few moments. Leandra dragged her out of plenty of seedy Lowtown houses and backwater bars with Mara fighting her every step of the way, only Gamlen able to calm and steady her.

He saved her when Leandra couldn’t. He brought brightness back to her life and Leandra had never felt so helpless. Shallow. Useless. Like her faith was.

She tried to make it up to Mara however she could, it was a regret she’d always hold.

Now she was praying even as the shreds of her faith were left in tatters? Isaac barely turned nine. Revka had already lost him to the Circle, but to lose him to a demon, she didn’t think Revka would survive it.

How could the Maker be so cruel?

And as much as her nephew’s death scared her, there was another regret Leandra found bubbling up that made her feel vulnerable, like she knew this would break her. Her eyes flicked to Malcolm, his presence so calming and assured. His honey eyes looked so resolute as he signed his death waiver without even a flinch.

“Do you want to write out some last words to anyone? Any confessions you’d like to make to a priestess?” The First Enchanter asked, tiredness in his voice.

“No need, I’m not dying,” Malcolm said in the same self-assured manner he always had.

Leandra bit her lip, his hubris making her panic more than feel at ease and she said, “we should at least bring you to a Sister to give you the Maker’s blessing.”

“Don’t need that, either,” he gave her that sexy lopsided grin that made her breath stutter even as his words dripped with blasphemy.

Leandra opened her mouth, her words caught for a second, her cheeks hot. “A-are you really so arrogant that you think you don’t need the Maker’s protection?”

Malcolm’s face then turned serious meeting her eye. “I’d rather skip the rituals. Isaac’s timeline is more important.”

Leandra’s mouth dropped but found no argument. He made sense and yet to think he would go in the Fade again without the Maker’s hand guiding him. Her heart clenched frightened at how badly it ached at the thought of his loss. That he could die without her knowing what his touch felt like. This feeling felt too premature to be called love but it was so close, it scared her. Too soon, she thought, and yet she wondered now if she was also too late. Would the Maker see Malcolm’s arrogance as a slight and take both Isaac and him from her this day?

She didn’t know what else to do. She took the rosary from her fingers, and draped the cord around Malcolm’s neck. “Then take this. It’s protected my family for generations.”

She had held that rosary during every Mass, blessed her family every night with it, and though she hoped it would protect Malcolm she couldn’t see it as anything but a pretty trinket she carried for comfort. Maybe it would protect him, or maybe he could just wear it and think of her. She found she had no more use for it.

Malcolm dangled the golden sun chain between his fingers as if he had caught the tail of a dead animal. “I do not need to be accused of stealing this.”

Both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander seemed surprised by Leandra’s gesture and was unsure what to make of it. “Hawke is right,” the Knight Commander said for the first time, “he’s too irresponsible to handle something so valuable.”

Malcolm bristled at the implication in the Commander’s tone but Leandra was ahead of him. “Well then I’ll give it to him with all you as witnesses so now you can’t accuse him of thievery.” Her eyes glistened, as she looked at him, imploring him to accept this small token if not the Maker, of herself. “You need it more than I do.”

Malcolm’s shoulders dropped, letting the amulet fall against his black robes. He bowed his head in respect, his dark curls falling in his face. “Thank you for your generosity, my lady.” He then added with a wry chuckle, “though something with Isaac’s essence would help me more.”

Without missing a beat Leandra said, “I have that, too.” She dug through her purse bringing out a children’s book with different automobiles with faces on it. It looked too rudimentary to belong to a nine year old but Leandra said, “This is Isaac’s favorite book. If he has trouble sleeping he might want you to read this just front to back again and again.” The Knight-Commander’s thin lip completely disappeared as she dug out a small cloth bag. “These are his building blocks. He might not warm up right away but if you start building something he’ll absolutely want to join in if you ask.” She closed Malcolm’s hands over the items as she handed them over, the smell of his clover musk soothing her frazzled nerves. “Would any of these help? He hasn’t held these in months.”

Malcolm nodded, opening the bag with interest. He held a small bright red tile between his fingers. “No, I can tell these mattered to him. They are coated in his essence.” He dropped it back into the bag, the blocks clattering together as he closed it and he gave a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have these back.”

That’s when the Knight-Commander finally intervened, “I can’t allow these. This goes against regulation.”

Leandra’s shoulders snapped back in fury. “A child cannot have toys?”

The First Enchanter leaned in. “Lady Amell, there are many mage children whose family cannot send them toys. It causes jealousy. It is better that he learns that the Circle is home.”

Leandra couldn’t accept that. “And what home can it be if you’re so harsh that a child cannot play. Is it any wonder my nephew fell prey to a demon!?”

The First Enchanter gathered the large stack of forms they had wasted time on between his gnarled fingers looking completely uncomfortable with Leandra’s temper that only seemed to be rising. “Lady Amell, please be civil. I understand you are stressed due to these events. Go home. Rest. It is in the Maker’s Hands now.”

Leandra crossed her arms, planting her feet firmly. “Excuse me? I’m not going anywhere until Isaac is safe.”

The First Enchanter tensed sharing a look with the Knight Commander. “My lady,” the wizard’s mustache twitched, “we don’t have the facilities to house a noble. Your safety must be maintained.”

Leandra scoffed so hard it blew the bangs from her forehead. “For 10,000 sovereigns you’d better figure it out!”

A snicker escaped Malcolm’s throat drawing the glares of both the Knight Commander and First Enchanter and that’s when Carver stepped in, an uncomfortable bystander to a convenient rescuer. He bowed his head to the Knight Commander offering a peaceful smile. “I believe the chapel can be isolated for the lady. There she can pray for her nephew’s recovery.”

The Knight Commander pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache and with a wince he said, “Fine.” His eyes then leveled his most intimidating glare to Leandra as he said, “but the Circle is a military institution, not a day spa. Don’t expect to be entertained.”

Leandra met his glare with one of her own, though it looked like a chihuahua going after a pit bull. “Oh I’m entertained enough by the fact that you used my family’s misfortune to fatten your coffers. Dare I ask what happens to the mages whose families cannot meet your outrageous price?”

And like a chihuahua, she went right for their knickers.

They dropped their eyes from Leandra’s accusatory stare, their faces twisting into uncomfortable grimaces as the silence answered her question.

Leandra’s heart hardened with more anger. What a barbaric place this was. She tightened her grip on the strap of her purse as she readied to dismiss herself. “Do your duty, gentleman, and know I will be watching.” Even if she had no powers of her own, she could at least hold them to that.

---

Isaac was fine this morning. Malcolm still recalled the huge smile on his face and the boy was practically vibrating at breakfast. Ever since Leandra told him of their connection he made more of an effort to speak to the boy, though the conversations were mostly them making truck noises at each other. Today, though, when Isaac came to bus his tray for Malcolm, Isaac actually spoke words.

“My mama’s coming,” he bounced up and down.

“That’s awesome, little dude,” Malcolm offered him the usual friendly high five but the boy was so excited he ended up head bumping the flat of his hand shouting,

“Beep!”

It kinda hurt but Malcolm laughed regardless. Then Isaac turned to Taylor with the same excited smile, “My mama’s coming,” he repeated with the excited tone.

“That’s wonderful, Isaac.” And when he got his praise from Taylor he turned to Charlie.

To think so much could change in a few hours.

The Harrowing Chamber still smelled like death and everything was as horrifying as Malcolm remembered it. The Fade here was thin, like a film and Malcolm could hear the faint echo of screams that still carried within the stone, thousands of deaths layered upon the other. If he closed his eyes he could see the last moments of mages meeting their ends.

Lanterns lit the walls making the room dark and the shadows bounced off each other as the ground was discolored by various stains that they failed to scrub out. In the middle of the chamber was Isaac strapped down to a table, sweating profusely, his bangs sticking to his forehead as his body fought the demon the only way it knew how. A bright red barrier surrounded Isaac, keeping him in place in case the transformation completed. He whimpered as he thrashed in his nightmare, his voice still chanting in an echo that repeated itself;

“My mama’s coming.”

Along the walls lined the Templars surrounding Malcolm, their guns gleaming in the threat of his failure. The helms hid the Templar’s faces but he could feel the eager energy in the air, ready for slaughter.

Malcolm’s hands were sweaty with nervousness as he waited for Senior Enchantress Karena to finish her spell.

Malcolm fiddled with Leandra’s rosary, well his rosary now, but it was coated in her spiritual energy, almost making it feel like her arms were wrapped around his neck. It made him breathe easier in the nightmare of being back in this room. Gave him hope that there was some kind of future for the two of them after this.

Enchanter Karena hunched over an ancient spellbook reading over the instructions, her glasses giving her fish eyes as she stirred different animal and plant parts into the lyrium brew. She seemed to be taking a long time, cutting things down into the smallest batches and scraping only the tiniest pinches into the mixture.

Malcolm sat on the gurney that they had wheeled in for him, feeling antsy. He gazed over the over at the cauldron, the mixture foul and pungent and heady. “Do you need help?” he offered genuinely.

The Enchantress scowled, “Excuse me, young man, I have made this spell hundreds of times.”

Malcolm wasn’t sure how he offended her this time but he gritted his teeth, biting back his usual snark. “Look, I'm just trying to speed things along. Isaac doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“Don’t rush me! If the ratio is off there can be dire consequences,” she snapped but then she turned back to the brew with a frown, “but I’ve never made such a weak concoction. With only one vial of lyrium I’m not sure there will be enough strength to pull you into the Fade.” She glared at Malcolm, her squinted eyes enlarged in glass. “If you were boasting, young man, that child will pay the price.”

Malcolm scoffed. How many times must he prove himself? “I don’t need to boast.” If only he could slip into the Fade right now and skip this charade. He still had a tile from Isaac’s toy bag, even though Carver had to ‘confiscate’ everything else Leandra brought which also included some sour gummy worms, a phone and a drawing his sister made for him. Still, the tile would be enough to track his dream. He didn’t need this witch’s brew.

Then Enchantress Karena pulled a vial from a case that was especially red, viscous. As soon as she uncorked it an iron smell filled the air.

Malcolm didn’t like the way it tingled the hairs in his nostrils. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he drank that. He had never ingested lyrium before but he was sure it would make taking care of whatever demon assaulted Isaac a piece of cake. Malcolm wrinkled his nose in recognition. “Is that what I think it is?”

Enchantress Karena stiffened as she poured in the vial. “It’s the essence of life and will help tether you to Isaac.”

Malcolm shook his head. In other words, Isaac’s phylactery.

He watched as a portion of blood was mixed into the blue shimmery concoction causing it to bubble, the whole cauldron taking a purple sheen as she stirred. It thickened the air with a copper rain-like smell.

“Soooo, how is this not blood magic?” Malcolm wrinkled his nose. Sure blood would be the easiest way to find his essence but he never expected the Chantry to actually resort to it.

The Enchantress snarled. “This is nothing like blood magic, blasphemer!”

Malcolm held up his hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I’m just asking a question. Don’t bite my head off.” Still he couldn’t help but feel like the Chantry were a bunch of hypocrites.

An armored hand clapped his shoulder, gripping slightly in a warning to be quiet. “Let’s let the Senior Enchantress concentrate,” Carver’s voice echoed from underneath his square imposing helm.

Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as he relented. Of course the Circle sanctioned blood magic under the circumstances they deemed fit. He wasn’t sure why he was even surprised, but it made Malcolm wonder what other secrets the Circle was hiding.

Carver bent over his eyes gleaming from the darkness of his helmet as he said in a low voice. “Don’t take any stupid chances in the Fade.”

Malcolm scoffed, whispering back, “This isn’t my first hunt. I know what I’m doing.”

“Still,” Carver drew his shoulders together, “it never hurts to be careful.” He lowered his helm to Malcolm’s ear and whispered, “what if it’s that terror demon?”

Malcolm stiffened. He had considered that as a possibility, and his leg swung impatiently from his seat. “Isaac’s managed to hold on this long. Have a little faith.”

Carver nodded, the tension not releasing from his shoulders.

Soon the purple brew darkened a few shades and the Enchantress took her spoon tapping off the extra liquid back into the cauldron, the sound echoing like a dull bell through the chamber. “It is done.” The Enchantress poured the concoction into a goblet and passed it to Malcolm. “Now drink every drop and lie down immediately.”

Malcolm gagged as he stared at it. Thankfully there were only a few mouthfuls to swallow but along with blood he had seen animal organs and poisonous mushrooms ground in. His skin turned a shade greener as he held his breath, unable to take the raw odor.

But then he remembered he could change the flavor and took a moment to weave the spell over his tongue before he knocked it back into his throat. He tasted strawberries again, but the texture still made him gag and there was still a distinct coppery taste that overlapped the flavor and burned into his nostrils. He forced himself to swallow before he coughed wishing he had soured something else. The liquid numbed his mouth and his throat and he found himself unable to say anything as he tried his best not to throw up.

“Lie down,” she reminded him curtly, pressing his nails into his shoulder and back into the gurney.

His head knocked against a firm cushion, the swirling feeling overtaking him as the room started to discolor and spin.

She then snapped her head at Carver as she took Malcolm’s arm and strapped him down with the leather bindings. “Bind him firmly, Knight Captain.”

Carver obeyed, his helm obscuring his expression, but his fingers shook as he bound his friend’s limbs tightly to the gurney.

The ceiling melded into indescribable colors but then Malcolm realized it was because the Enchantress had activated the containment barrier they had drawn around Malcolm. The room was swirling as his skin prickled with energy, the lyrium buzzing in his blood so it seemed to be singing.

The pull was immediate, the room melting away and replaced by images of a green sky, the stone walls growing into jagged hills as a road stretched before him, unpaved and uneven the hills glittering with the darkest obsidian. The Fade felt so real, the air smelling like the sea, the gravel crunching beneath his body as he pushed himself upright from the ground.

Usually traversing the Fade felt like walking through a memory, details not always in focus, but he could see every whorl on his fingers, feel the breeze wafting through his hair, smell the dirt coming from his clothes. He looked behind him and saw that he was trapped on an island, a sharp fall into a bottomless chasm that stretched out like the sea. The island stretched upwards and upwards into a tower so high that the clouds obstructed the view from the top. The other islands lay barren and pulverized, every path destroyed except the one forward.

Malcolm thought for a second that he had been deposited to the gates of the Black City but when he gazed over the chasm, there it hung in the sky, looking closer than ever. He plucked the Fade strings with his fingers, reaching out to Compassion.

She didn’t answer him.

In fact nothing did.

That’s when Malcolm noticed there was something strange about the way the Fade here was constructed. For one the usual hum of spirit chatter was nonexistent, the Fade strings seemingly gnarled and cut up. He could sense no connection to any spirits like he was a shorting circuit, and it gave Malcolm a sense of unease. He couldn’t read the terrain like he usually could. It just seemed like the whole area was frozen in a silent scream. The memories of the Fade had been stripped completely blank somehow.

“Somniari?” Compassion’s voice finally rang out in his mind and he flinched like he had been burnt, but the feeling faded into discomfort. The hair on the back of his neck stood at end as the voice coated him, primal fear seeding in him, but he was quickly reminded of his previous conversation with Compassion and bit down the feeling as best he could so he would not warp her.

“A child is in danger of being possessed,” he said aloud, the connection starting to feel more familiar each second, the unease subsiding as he chalked it up to being in the middle of a demon’s web. “I could use the backup.”

“A child? Oh dear, I must come immediately,” her voice said with more enthusiasm than usual. Malcolm thought it odd, but before he could think much on it she appeared before him, her robes more fitted than before. Her eyes burned brightly, but the azure color a shade more lilac than he remembered, but no sooner than he thought that in a blink, the color looked more familiar, and Malcolm chalked it up to a trick of the light.

“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Malcolm kept polite, but his eye never left Compassion studying her as she took in her surroundings in interest.

She gazed down at the abyss, her braid dangling almost like a snake with how it moved.

Forcing down uncertainty he said, “I think I sense Zefuckwad here, but I’m not completely sure. Something’s wrong with this place, right?”

Compassion’s eyes flashed as the corner of her lips quirked in a smile for once not correcting Malcolm’s mispronunciation. “This realm is sundered, memories swallowed, but whether it is the work of Zelophehad remains to be seen.” Her voice tripped over the terror demon’s name, and for a moment it seemed like the Fade stirred, as if it flinched.

Malcolm could agree with her assessment. There was no memory in the stone, no whispers telling him of secret knowledge. “I’m certain,” he suppressed a shiver. “Only felt like this once before. And the fact Isaac was taken doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

The spirit pricked up at Isaac’s name. “I sense your connection to the boy. He is precious to you?”

Malcolm’s gut twisted. “Not to me,” he admitted. He suddenly wished he had made more of an effort to build a connection. The boy seemed lonely. He never seemed to hang out with anyone his own age, but clung to his teacher’s skirts.

“Ah,” Compassion cocked her head in sudden understanding. “The connection is to the one is Bound to your heart. My mistake.”

Malcolm suddenly felt uncomfortable, unsure what was relevant about this conversation, though to hear Leandra was Bound to his heart did strike a sense of joy in him. He could sense the Compassion spirit watching his reaction in interest and he decided it was time to change the subject.

“I can track Isaac,” Malcolm said, feeling the block that still was tucked in his physical hand. He pinched his fingers, feeling the ridges, and soon the little plastic red tile formed shining brightly. He let the tile go, letting it take life. It blinked in it’s yellow light, flitting around in a circle as if it was trying to get a sense of direction.

“Impressive,” Compassion nodded, “and so what do you need me for?”

Malcolm touched the tile and it spun, glowing like a star in the murky Fade. “To keep me alive.”

The tile floated like a wisp, droplets of light leaving after images of where it flew. It darted up the rocky path bouncing up and down as it waited for it’s master to follow. Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as his feet crunched up the rocky steps.

The castle hills were craggy that slid down and threatened to plummet them into the chasm below. The walls of the castle crowded them against the cliff, as if they were reaching for Malcolm. Some of the steps crumbled beneath his feet, the rocks clattering down to the bottom and into the pit. The beacon stayed in sight flitting just out of reach leading Malcolm higher and higher until they reached a deserted courtyard. Ruined rubble filled the area, the grass dead brown and dry. Two beheaded statues guarded a dark murky portal that served as the castle’s door. The beacon floated between the crossed axes of the statues spinning in place before it sucked into the hazy rippling portal with a bloop.

Malcolm looked to Compassion. “Isaac’s inside but I don’t like the idea of just charging in blindly.”

Compassion looked between the cracks of one of the large walls that caged them in, her lips in a small thin line. “What are you suggesting?”

Malcolm thought for a second. He had never had to be so careful on a hunt before and he wanted to do this as stealthily as possible. “Can you coat me with your essence? I can hide my physical form but if the demon can track my aura it would be pointless.”

Compassion looked hesitant, even though the request seemed simple enough. “Your aura is so powerful I’m not sure mine will do much to mask it.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

She smiled. “I do,” she then opened her hand and in a flash of white light a staff of dark gnarled twisted wood with long purple thorn spikes appeared in her hand. “This is Thornheart. Use it in the coming battle.”

As Malcolm’s fingers wrapped around the shaft, his hair raised up in alarm. He had never felt so much power in his hand, and he suddenly felt stronger, faster, more alert. He balanced the staff, feeling the ridges of the bark beneath his fingers, an unsettled feeling sinking inside him. “Not sure if a branch is going to help me.”

“It is my soul in solid form. It is the greatest aid I can offer.”

Malcolm felt her power seeping into him, her foreignness feeling like a leather glove over his skin. The way the magic melded together made him slightly nauseous, like he had gorged on too many sweets. The energy gave him a buzzing feeling, and he felt like he needed to run a few laps to burn it off. He ignored that and waved the staff instead, trying to pull parts of the Fade into himself to help mask his presence. By the second turn of the staff he was completely invisible.

“I’m right behind you,” Compassion spoke in his direction though it offered no comfort.

Malcolm gritted his teeth as he looked at the portal, feeling that familiar darkness lurking within. The demon could have wiped Isaac out at any second, but Isaac was alive, being toyed with. And Malcolm felt responsible for putting him there. If he was smart enough to use the boy as bait, then this changed everything.

With a steadying breath, he steeled himself for the worst and stepped inside.

Suddenly he was in a mansion, grander than he had ever stepped in before. Kids' drawings filled the walls and toys were everywhere, servants surrounded them in a flurry as they brought down luggage from a grand staircase. A tall brown man with a silky mustache that connected to his beard and a wide nose was walking down the stairs as two screaming children held his legs, one a little girl with long brown hair and bright brown eyes, and the other boy he recognized as Isaac.

“Daddy please,” the little girl held onto his pants leg as if she was holding onto her life. “Daddy please don’t go.”

Isaac just kept repeating the same phrase over again like a mantra. “I’m sorry.”

The man practically kicked his children off. “Get off me! I’m not your father. Your mother’s a cheating whore.”

Malcolm clenched his fist, ready to clock the man, but moving in dreams was not like moving through life. Each part was played by a different demon, only Isaac the true player. Malcolm stepped closer to the family, waiting for his moment to strike.

The man headed for the door, Isaac dragging on his heels. “Daddy,” he sobbed, snot bubbling down his nose. “Daddy. I love you.”

The man recoiled as if he had been hit. He bared his teeth, “You are a thing. You don’t even work right. There is no way I am your father.”

That’s when Malcolm almost swung, but before Malcolm could, another demon came from one of the back rooms and started throwing clothes at the man. She was a plump woman with warm caramel skin and a long satin dress. “Get out!” she screamed. “Say no more words to my children and leave before you infect them with more poison.”

The man’s nostrils flared. “Gladly. Just don’t come running after me for coppers to feed these creatures.”

She huffed, angry tears in her eyes. “As if I ever needed your money.”

The man slammed the front door in Isaac’s face, almost smashing his fingers. “Daddy,” he said in a broken voice.

His mother scooped him up as he cried on her shoulder, Malcolm breathing a sigh of relief. Now he just needed to find a way to speak to Isaac to wake him up without alerting the rest of the demons. He tried to find where Compassion was in the nightmare but she had gone oddly silent ever since he stepped through.

The boy sobbed into his mother’s chest, the other little girl reached for her with outstretched hands as she joined in the family cry.

“I’m sorry, loves, I’m sorry,” Isaac’s mother wiped her children’s eyes. “We’re cursed. We’re a cursed family. This is all my fault.”

Malcolm tensed as Isaac renewed his wailing.

The little girl stopped crying and said. “Mama, how do we break the curse?”

The woman smiled through her tears as she cupped the little girl’s face. “It’s simple. We die.”

Isaac took fistfuls of his mother's skirts . “Mama, no. Mama, no.”

The woman took hold of his chin with a razor smile. “Oh, my sweet child, I should have drowned you at birth. It would have saved you so much suffering.”

That’s when Malcolm finally revealed himself, slicing the demon’s hand with a wave of his staff. He gra

“Mama!” A frightened Isaac elbowed Malcolm in the face.

Malcolm gave him some more room but didn’t let him go.

“That’s not your mother, look at her more closely,” he struggled to keep the boy still. He was surprisingly strong for his small size.

The boy reached out for his Mother, her arm not bleeding as much as it should. Her teeth and eyes looked sharper but it didn’t seem to matter to Isaac. He couldn’t see past his nightmare.

The woman waved with her unhurt hand. “Isaac. Mama’s leaving now. And she’s never ever coming back.”

“No, that’s not your mom. Your Mom is waiting for you to wake up, little dude,” Malcolm forced the boy to face him but Isaac's eyes couldn’t leave his mother.

Isaac’s Mother grabbed his sister’s hand and with a sly smile turned her hand on the doorknob. And then Malcolm realized his mistake. He had forgotten to protect the portal.

As soon as the woman opened the door every corner of the room filled with blackness, the only slits of light now emanating from the goat's eyes splitting from the darkness. The servants and Isaac’s family started to warp as the nightmare changed into more sinister shadow forms. Isaac’s outstretched hand lay frozen as the face of his mother morphed into Compassion.

Except now Malcolm could finally see that it wasn’t Compassion at all. The demon was wearing Compassion’s face, but her skin was now too purple, her eyes darkening to a malevolent shade of violet glowing like embers.

A desire demon. Her brown hair started to float as it mimicked the fire that should be on her head.

Malcolm instinctively reached for his weapon but the staff wrapped around his wrists, thorns snaking into his arms and into his torso. Malcolm let Isaac go before the thorns could wrap around him, too.

Malcolm tried to speak, tried to tell Isaac to wake up, but only blood coughed out of his mouth.

“Mama?” Isaac cowered from the figure in confusion, his eyes and heart seeming to wrestle with what was happening .

The Desire demon outstretched both arms, her hand regrown into thorn-like points, her robes turning into flowing strands of silk. “Bound and offered, Master, as you commanded. I told you my plan would work .”

The goat eyes swirled in amusement as another figure loomed in the portal forming in the tendrils. “So you said, Avarice. I am most impressed.”

Malcolm’s spine chilled, trying to move, but the more he struggled the more it hurt. He could feel something stabbing his heart, keeping him from speaking, but even if he could his words would be stolen from him. The voice the demon took raised all of Malcolm’s hair on end and he withheld a tremble as his father stood before him.

The elf was all lean muscle, his fists scarred and fingers broken from fistfights and punching walls. Malcolm forgot how much he looked like his father, the same nose, the same shaggy curls, the same smattering of freckles, even his eyes were the same shade of gold except instead of regular pupils they were square like a goat. They blinked eerily, the corner of his eyes and lips wrinkled into sharp lines.

Malcolm knew he made a mistake but he was so focused on Zelophehad he had never considered the demon would team up with another to trick him, never considered that the demon would successfully dig out the thing in his psyche that would freeze him in place. He watched helplessly as the Desire demon sauntered up the steps towards Isaac, holding her arms out in a welcoming hug.

“Come to Mama.”

Isaac stood his ground, trembling in fear. “Y-you’re…not…” The boy couldn’t finish his sentence. He stood instinctively near Malcolm, even though there was nothing Malcolm could do to protect him at this point.

Malcolm tried to push through the pain, his panic riding against him in an oncoming wave, but couldn’t let himself be overcome. He saw only one option, and he started to subtly weave threads from the tips of his fingers towards Isaac.

The demon was coming closer, faster, it was hard to focus on weaving the magic with the fear eating at his nerves.

“Your mama’s never coming back. But I can be your mama. I promise I’ll never abandon you, child.”

Malcolm panicked as the demon closed in, about to grab Isaac but before she could Zelophehad blinked beside the demon and grabbed her wrist. He raised a thick eyebrow, his sneer almost a smile. “And what are you doing with my snack?”

The Desire demon looked too terrified to fight, but the confusion on her face was apparent. “M-master, I thought this was what was agreed?”

WIth a flick of Zelophehad’s wrist, he broke the demoness’ wrist and she howled in pain staggering back. “I agreed to let you have my scraps, but if you’re so impatient you’re welcome to be included on the menu.”

The demoness looked conflicted. The anger was apparent on her face. “This is how you repay my service? You will reap what you sow.”

Then she blinked away from sight leaving Malcolm alone with his terror demon.

Malcolm had forgotten how overpowering the demon’s presence was, blanking out thought.

Isaac shuffled towards Malcolm grabbing his hand in fright, and Malcolm squeezed back, trying to offer what comfort he could.

“So shall I eat the boy first?” the demon circled them lazily, slouching with confident ease. Tendrils of dark tentacles circled around his legs and snaked up his arms reaching out to taste the fear on Malcolm’s bound body. “Or will you chivalrously go first?”

Every movement still shredded him, but he found with Avarice gone, her magic was no longer overpowering and he could force himself to speak. “Real cocky considering you made your servant do your dirty work.”

“And why not?” Zelophehad said with a gleeful smile. “Is it not what they are for?”

Malcolm scoffed, though that made a thorn stab deeper into his ribs. He held onto Isaac’s hand his Fade strings wrapping around his balled fist. He saw only one way out of this. “You haven’t won, yet.”

“Good,” the demon grinned. “I like a meal that has fight. Let’s see how brave you are after I eat your charge.” Then the tendrils wrapped around Isaac pulling him towards the demon.

Isaac screamed, squeezing onto Malcolm’s hand, and Malcolm pulled, wrapping the rest of the Fade strings firmly around Isaac.

Malcolm closed his eyes, diving into the depths of his psyche and pulling Isaac along with him. He felt the pain intensify as Zelophehad tried to rip Isaac away from him, but Malcolm pulled them safely both into the safety of his mind.

Their spirits tumbled as the Fade tried to give form to their consciousness, Isaac and Malcolm’s memories melding together in projections in every corner he saw, the overlapping memories serving as the Fade’s usual hum. Malcolm could feel the terror demon ripping off the w alls of his defenses, following him inside. He was at his most powerful since it was his mind therefore his dream, but he was also cornered, trapped. If the terror demon managed to overwhelm him here, he had no more tricks to pull, no hidden hole to dive in.

Malcolm wouldn’t have done this if he had another choice.

He needed to become conscious, take control of the dream, find Isaac and wake them both back to safety, but that was easier said than done. The Fade had not become so much as moldable clay but a projection of thoughts and wants sprung to life with just a breath. Any stray thought, no matter how tiny, could derail everything.

It took all of Malcolm’s energy to focus in the dream fog, like a dulling drug to his senses muting his thoughts. Isaac. He needed to find Isaac. He repeated the name in his head, not allowing any other thoughts to surface. He suddenly recalled something Leandra said after gifting him the rosary, which was like a warm tether on his neck. Without another thought he tore off parts of the Fade and reshaped them into brightly colored blocks.

And started building a simple wall. He clicked the pieces together, slowly building as he started to recite what he could remember from the book Leandra brought.

“In this big wide world,

We all have a place

Every bee needs it’s rose,

Every rose needs it’s vase.”

Soon the walls formed into a house where he left room for a couple windows and an opening for the door. The shadows of Isaac’s memories strengthened with each stack of the block, as Malcolm led his spirit back to him.

“But where do the broken and stinky things go?

When the pen in the ink refuses to flow

Do we keep all the clutter? Does anyone know?”

“Yes,” a small voice finally answered him, “it goes in Mr. Dumpdump’s tow.”

He looked up from his work to see that Isaac had joined him, taking the blocks in his hands with focused effort as he started crafting his build.

“Hey, little dude,” Malcolm sighed in relief. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

But Isaac wasn’t listening to Malcolm. His eyes never left his hands as he built up the walls of his structure with impressive speed, all while reciting the book like a mantra.

“He takes what is bad

So things can be good

Isn’t he the best neighbor

In the whole neighborhood?”

The Fade churned as the walls of the dream struggled to take shape in the competing mindscapes of Isaac and Malcolm, the familiar Circle the only common ground for the Fade to form in. Malcolm could tell Isaac was paler than usual, his eyes seemingly blank as if he was far away and not at all aware what his hands were doing. The Fade was practically responding to his creative urges forming walls around him, as if he was trying to block himself in.

Malcolm crept up to Isaac, his fingers reaching out hesitantly. “I’m going to wake you up, now, but I need you to trust me.”

“How can you trust him?” Revka’s disembodied voice rang shrilly across the Fade. Suddenly Revka was there dressed in fitted royal purple silk, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. She outstretched a pointed nail at Isaac, her pupils too square to be human but everything else was a remarkable likeness. Yet Isaac was frozen, staring at the image of his Mother with a tremble as he fumbled with his blocks. “Come to Mama, Isaac. Let me in.”

Malcolm stepped closer, imploring Isaac to listen. “She’s not real. Your real Mom is waiting for you to wake up.”

The demon smirked with a sharp toothed smile. “I’m your Mama. This elf is the one who is not real. Why would he help you?”

Isaac blinked at Malcolm, his eyes suddenly filled with distrust.

Malcolm held up his hands showing open palms forming no spells. “This is a bad dream, Isaac. You can end it now if you wake up.”

“If you wish hard enough you could have more than just this little reality,” Revka’s laugh tittered as the Fade started to shape into what Malcolm could only guess was some twisted form of Isaac’s old bedroom. The building blocks seemed to take a life of their own building into the sides of the room. Kids drawings filled the walls and books filled dragon shaped shelves. Revka sat down on Isaac’s bed, her fingers beckoning him to come closer.

Isaac’s eyes filled with tears. “I-I can’t.”

Malcolm dared to take one step closer to Isaac. “Let me help you wake up.”

The Nightmare growled, the room distorting color. “He wants to kill you. Don’t let him get close!”

Isaac froze, as if he didn’t consider that and backed away from Malcolm. When Malcolm took another step closer Isaac took another step back closer to the Nightmare.

Malcolm gritted his teeth, wondering what he could do to prove to Isaac that he was really him and not some twisted imitation. He needed to prove to Isaac he was real, but he didn’t know how.

And then it hit him and Malcolm took a deep breath and belted out the loudest most obnoxious “HOOOOOOOONK!” he could manage.

The Nightmare blinked in confusion as the boy broke down in a fit of surprised giggles.

Malcolm joined in the carefree laughter, ignoring the glaring Nightmare demon and said, “Hey, don’t leave me hanging. Your turn.”

The boy didn’t hesitate, he threw back his head and screamed, “HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!” in a louder, more obnoxious way that only a 9 year old could manage.

The Nightmare’s forces seemed to be shrinking in the laughter and the demon scowled. “How undisciplined. I guess it’s time to punish you until you listen.”

Then the Nightmare leapt, his claws forming into long scythe-like points as he raked for Isaac.

Malcolm twisted the Fade around the Nightmare and turned into a crushing prison, paralyzing the demon for a moment but he wasn’t sure with its strength how long it would hold.

He turned back towards Isaac who was now huddling behind his constructed wall, his head in his knees and his hands over his ears.

Malcolm crept beside him. “Little dude,” he said in a hurried voice. “You need to wake up now.”

“I c-can’t,” he sobbed into his knees, holding fistfuls of his hair.

The demon howled in pain, causing Isaac to tremble.

Malcolm reacted with haste touching his forefingers to each side of Isaac’s temples, pouring his magic into him.

Isaac popped up socking Malcolm in the jaw as he gasped in shock.

The jab hurt but Malcolm held firm and Isaac’s next fist went through Malcolm as he faded back into the waking realm where he was safe from the Nightmare’s grasp.

Suddenly a claw wrapped around his neck, digging into his skin but no sooner did the Nightmare grab hold did he fling his hand back like he was burnt.

Malcolm looked down to find the rosary around his neck glowing in what he could only describe as a heavenly light.

Warm trickles of blood seeped down Malcolm’s neck and when he touched the cord it grew hot. A strange and unfamiliar sensation ran through him.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what happened. That was no spell he weaved and yet the demon seemed to eye his rosary with a wariness that he didn’t reserve for the man himself.

The Nightmare’s face contorted, its shape shifting into several darkspawn like forms before it settled onto the face of Malcolm’s father, but Malcolm was a bit more ready for it this time. Still the sight of the man before him made him take an uneasy step back, his nerves instinctively screaming at him to wake up from this nightmare.

“Are you going to face me like a man or run like a rabbit?”

Malcolm clenched his fists, the slur even from a demon like a punch to the gut. Still, he knew when he was being baited. “Yeah real manly going after a child. You really do take after my father.” Part of him wanted to throw every spell he knew at his disposal. It was his dream, but he was facing the Nightmare. He knew it was smarter to run.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the demon examined his burn in disinterest, a casual smirk on his lips. “But I have to say if you don’t get rid of me now, I only plan to become a bigger problem.” He tapped a finger on his lip. “Shall I try to eat Charlie next? Taylor?”

Malcolm’s heart froze in his chest as the Nightmare’s golden goat eyes seized him in place with the next name that fell from his smirking lips.

“Leandra has been looking awfully delicious,” the Nightmare fell back to the rosary neck and gestured to his burned hand imprinted with its beads. “Shall I pay her a visit now that you’ve generously supplied her essence?”

Malcolm saw red, sending crackling energy at the demon but it disappeared in a blink and his lightning bolt hit a wall of colorful blocks scattering them.

The demon suddenly appeared behind him delivering a stunning blow to the back of Malcolm’s head.

He saw stars as he struggled to reorient himself. He sent a clumsy fireball at the demon’s direction, but even if the demon didn’t teleport out of reach again the ball would’ve barely grazed the demon.

Malcolm was ready for the Nightmare to be in his blindside again, and moved to dodge, but his foot was caught. He looked down to see that a tentacled hand had wrapped around his ankle from the floor and prevented him from missing the crushing blow to his nose that made his eyes water.

Blood spattered from his face, streaming down his nose so he couldn’t breathe. It felt broken. Jostled, he picked himself up enough only for a blow to the chest that knocked the wind out of him.

This went on for a while, Malcolm barely keeping his footing as he absorbed blow after blow that he was too slow to react from, each spell dying in his hand before he could fling it. He was unsure why the demon chose to use his fists over something more lethal like magic or claws or anything, but Malcolm realized that even with those goat eyes when he was staring at that face the punches hurt more, his reflexes were more hesitant, and that familiar taunting laugh tripped him off balance.

This didn’t feel so much of a fight as a beating.

“What’s the matter, boy?” The demon punched Malcolm in the stomach, avoiding the rosary by inches. There was an unexpected weight behind each punch but this one felt like being hit by a freight train and Malcolm keeled over, almost throwing up blood. “Weren’t you supposed to be teaching me a lesson?”

The demon then knelt beside Malcolm's crumpled form and caressed his curls fondly, which made Malcolm shiver as distant memories were quickly brought to the surface. “I’m going to take everything you love sooner or later. You have two choices, the painful way, or the less painful way. It’s up to you.”

Malcolm tried to flee, to wake himself up, but all he could do more was cough and gasp as he tried to breathe through his pain, the memories of his childhood terror so fresh, he was trembling. His voice was caught in a web he couldn’t get out of. All he could do is touch the rosary around his neck, praying for the help that burned the demon before.

The Nightmare seemed to sense this so he sighed, grabbing fistfuls of Malcolm’s curls. “The painful way, then.”

One punch shattered his nose.

“Even if Leandra loves you, she’ll always love her status more.” Malcolm struggled to breathe as another punch knocked out a tooth. “They’ll laugh at your children.” Another punch dislocated his jaw. “What kind of a father will you be anyways?” By the fourth punch he was losing consciousness, and he struggled to grasp for his body in the waking world before it was too late. Suddenly the Nightmare stopped and took in a heavy annoyed sigh.

“You are intruding, little spirit.”

Malcolm’s spotty vision noticed a blinding glow in the darkness in the room. He raised his head to see Compassion, the real Compassion shining brilliantly, a rainbow crystal staff wielded in her hands.

“Have you not feasted enough, Zelophehad? Is your hunger so great you must swallow everything in your path?”

The demon smirked malevolently, his bloody knuckles cracking as he clenched his fist. “My gluttony is boundless. My wrath is unquenchable. My greed unsatiable. A little compassion will do nothing to stop me.”

Compassion stood vigilantly, unshaken, her staff brightening with indescribable colors from the carved crystals. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

She met Malcolm’s gaze, his head trapped in Zelophehad’s fist, her azure fire eyes burning. “Somniari, trust me,” And then Compassion turned the crystals to the ground, and poured light that made the floor glitter like diamonds.

“Awaken again, my friends,” Compassion poured more healing magic into the Fade, the air brightening to a more normal greenish hue.

The demon hissed, dropping Malcolm to cut off Compassion.

Malcolm hit the floor with a thud, breathing in the magic, that seemed to soothe his aching, broken body. Suddenly, the Fade was no longer silent, a rush of hurried frightened whispers of the particles of the Fade woke up and filled up Malcolm’s thoughts with indecipherable chatter.

“Shut up!” Zelophehad bellowed as he dove for Compassion, his claws coming out to scythe-like points but she blinked out of sight and then beside Malcolm.

She knelt down and touched him with her iridescent hand.

The magic was almost instant. In one breath, everything ached, like shards of bone were digging into his gut, his eye was swollen shut, his nose too mangled to breathe through, and then in the next moment it was like coming up from a cool pond. There was an uncomfortable sensation of bones knitting back into place, as a cooling healing touch soothed his burning skin. In a few moments he could move more normally again, his vision clear, his mind alert.

Zelophehad growled holding up his hand and a beam of concentrated dark light shot towards Compassion. Malcolm, still grounded, threw up a barrier without thinking, and Compassion did the same. The double barriers cracked but held but the force still blew them back. Zelophehad kept the assault, making the beam bigger, the energy arcing wildly.

“Wake up!” Compassion ordered.

Malcolm balked, his energy being drained by trying to keep the barrier reinforced. “Don’t you need help?”

“You’re in the way,” she sneered, which was like a slap in the face to Malcolm. Still, as much as that stung he couldn’t argue that he pretty much had his ass handed to him that fight.

“Fine,” he scoffed, pulling back the magic, and reaching for his body back in the waking world. As he did, the barrier started to crack, light showing through.

Malcolm hesitated, pouring more magic into the barrier.

“I have this handled. Flee, you fool!” Compassion hissed, the crystals of her staff quivering in effort. Suddenly the Fade air shimmered around Compassion, sealing the cracks in her barrier as soon as they formed.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what Compassion’s plan was, but it was clear she knew more about what she was doing than Malcolm did, so he pulled back his magic completely, and concentrated on reaching his body. It was quicker with the lyrium in his system. He could feel the buzz of it speed up his magic in a way he didn’t think possible so that instead of falling he felt like he was flying back. He was unsure what magic Leandra had given him, but all he knew was that she saved him.

Red light finally filtered through his eyes, and he opened them quickly to find blood all over his face and robes and every templar pointing a gun at him. Even Carver.

Malcolm gulped nervously, his limbs still bound to the gurney. He found himself struggling not to panic at the sight of his friend holding a barrel at him. “I’m not possessed.”

Carver lowered his gun slightly, but there was a hesitancy to it. “I’m sorry Malcolm, but we’re going to need a test.”

Malcolm’s gut dropped. He had forgotten that Carver was still a templar though it would be harder to forget in this moment. He gave a nervous, bloody grin and said. “Yeah, dude, whatever you need.”

Carver walked up to the barrier and turned to the Senior Enchanter and said, “lower it.”

Enchanter Karena nodded and with a wave of her staff the red barriers around Malcolm and Isaac came down.

Carver looked over at Isaac who was strapped to his own bed with a frightened look on his face.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Carver said in the most soothing voice as he could manage, though it was hard to believe with his gun strapped to his side.

He took out a device that looked like a small tablet and scanned Isaac’s head. Isaac squirmed to the side as the device beeped and fed Carver information. It was supposed to be the templar’s foolproof way of thwarting possession, looking for extra brain waves or unusual activity. Though sometimes mages that looked completely fine were sometimes pulled because of weird readings so it never failed to make Malcolm nervous.

Though whatever was on the screen seemed to satisfy Carver. He started unbinding the straps, turning to the Senior Enchanter and said, “get this boy into the infirmary. He’s very weak.”

She nodded and hurried to Isaac, unbinding him fully so he could stretch out his arms and legs. He sat up reluctantly, helped by the Enchantress, who proceeded to cover him with a blanket to help with his shiver.

Carver approached Malcolm with the scanner, and ran it over his head.

Malcolm could hear the device whirring and beeping. This wasn’t the first time he’d been scanned but it never failed to heighten his nerves.

Carver’s voice was a whisper as he eyed the drying blood on Malcolm’s face. “Are you alright?”

To be honest Malcolm wasn’t sure. His body didn’t ache anymore, but the pain was like a ghost haunting him, his father’s cruel mocking laugh still ringing in his ears. He wondered for a second if Compassion made it out alright, or if he had gotten her killed. He might have gotten Isaac safely back, but this felt like a defeat.

“I just need to see Leandra,” his voice was almost begging. He wasn’t even sure if it was protocol, but he just needed a moment, so it all could mean something. He wasn’t sure if he would last if he didn’t end the day at least seeing her face.

Carver started unstrapping his ties as the templars lowered their guns hesitantly, looking at each other in disappointment. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

---

Revka’s sobs filled the chapel as she squeezed Leandra’s hand in a vice-like grip. She had taken the first plane back to Kirkwall and had stormed the Circle, along with Guillaume, Mara and Gamlen who had generously picked her up from the airport. (Well Mara and Gamlen were supposed to, but Guillaume insisted on coming to show support to Leandra.)

Now the five of them were huddled in a group prayer as they begged the Maker for Malcolm to succeed.

The nuns were all very accommodating, reciting the proper Chants with them, and invoking protections on Isaac on Malcolm from afar, though Leandra felt so powerless she felt like she was only doing it to keep her and Revka sane. Because they had to do something to make the time pass.

When asked about the rosary during prayer, because Leandra always prayed with her rosary, she evasively said she lost it and hoped it would never come up again. She was surprised when Gamlen scolded her, because he wasn’t particularly religious. Still, she knew what he would think if she told him the truth.

“It’s my fault,” Revka sobbed, breaking from the Chant as she crumpled in exhaustion. The others broke off from the Chant, looking away to give Revka the privacy of a breakdown. Even Gamlen didn’t have anything smart to say for once.

“No,’ Leandra squeezed her hand. “You can’t think that.”

The tears streamed from her eyes as she shook her head. “What kind of Mother is not there for her children? Colette’s all alone at home. I had to abandon Anna during our visit and now Isaac...is lost.”

Leandra pulled Revka in for a hug unsure of what other comfort to offer. “Have faith in the Maker, Revka. He will deliver Isaac.”

‘And Malcolm,’ she added silently. She didn’t dare say his name aloud while Guillaume was by her side.

Suddenly the doors to the chapel pulled open and all of them turned to see who disturbed them. Carver and the Knight Commander stepped through, side by side, Leandra deflated, thinking that they were by themselves when Malcolm finally lagged behind, a noticeable sag to his shoulders and a sluggishness to his steps.

Revka stood up and pushed her way forward towards the Knight Commander. “Isaac. He is safe?” It was a command rather than a question.

“He is, my lady, you can rest easy,” Carver bowed his head with a warm smile on his lips.

Revka’s eyes then overflowed with tears. “Thank the Maker. And thank you Commander.”

The Knight Commander preened at the gratitude. “Only doing our part.”

Revka’s hands flew to her eyes as she hastily wiped them. “Can I see him? Just for a moment.”

Carver looked imploringly at the Knight Commander who seemed uncomfortable with the idea. “It would do wonders for Isaac’s recovery.”

Leandra stepped up beside Revka glaring at the Knight Commander, joined by Guillaume and Mara. The Knight-Commander’s eyes passed over them, seemingly wanting to avoid a fight, and turned to Carver and said. “Yes, yes give her five minutes and then they all need to leave.”

Revka looked overwhelmed with relief and eagerly held out her arm to be escorted.

Only for Carver to be distracted by the fact Mara was there. Their gazes seemed to catch, her face going red as she avoided his shocked stare. He seemed frozen, as if he had not expected Mara to be there at all, and he didn’t notice he was staring until Gamlen put a possessive arm around her.

“Captain?” Revka asked impatiently.

Carver shook his head as if he was breaking from a daze and said, “Sorry, my lady. This way.” And then he took her arm and started leading her out of the chapel.

The Knight Commander then stared at the rest of the group as if they were ruining his day. “Your mage wishes to return your trinket.”

Leandra bristled at the phrasing the Commander used and she found herself arguing. “It was a gift.”

Malcolm bowed deeply to Leandra, the rosary draping from his fingers. “My lady, the protection magic on this saved my life, and for that I thank you, but I would rest easier knowing it's guarding its true owner.”

Gamlen looked outraged seeing the rosary in Malcolm’s fingertips. “A gift? I thought you said you lost it? Leandra what were you thinking?”

Leandra opened her mouth to argue when Guillaume put a warm hand on her waist and said, “My lady only ever has the purest intentions, Lord Amell. Do forgive her.”

Gamlen barked out a laugh as he eyed Malcolm, a shit eating grin as he muttered “Poor schmuck,” under his breath.

Mara elbowed him in the stomach with warning eyes to be quiet.

Leandra stiffened at Malcolm’s sudden glare, not able to voice what she was thinking and took the rosary back feeling conflicted and partly rejected. Their fingers brushed as the necklace exchanged hands, the feeling like a shock to her heart. She wanted to insist he keep it, but she knew that it would be inappropriate and rude so she bit her lip and examined the beads, noticing some new stains on the metal. She gasped. “Is this your blood?”

Malcolm looked sheepish. “Sorry, I thought I cleaned that better.”

The Knight Commander put a warning squeeze on Malcolm’s shoulder as he pulled him back from Leandra and changed to the real subject he wanted to talk about. “As you can see Malcolm is the finest mage we have to offer.”

Guillaume put a finger on his chin. “Yes, ser, I quite agree,” he said. He offered his free hand in a friendly shake. “You are quite talented, messere. This means everything to Leandra. I can’t thank you enough.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth staring at the hand as if it stunk, but one glance at the Knight Commander had him schooling his face and he took the hand politely. “Anything for my lady,” he said while looking straight into Leandra’s eyes as he gave Guillaume the firmest shake he could manage.

“And a man’s handshake at that. I’m very impressed,” Guillaume beamed amusedly.

It took everything Malcolm had not to snort. He wiped his hand on the side of his robes feeling vindictive and petty. To see Guillaume’s hand so casually on Leandra’s waist was like sitting down for a good meal only to find a dead fly in it.

The Knight Commander gave Malcolm’s shoulder another squeeze. “We look forward to your renewed bids on Hawke’s services. We assure you we’re training him daily and instilling the best manners and education so he can best attend to your needs.”

The Knight Commander's words made that two dead flies.

Malcolm looked at Guillaume, a tall handsome man with everything and the world, who could hold Leandra’s hand in a crowd and kiss her openly in the sunlight, or the moonlight, and everything in between. He found himself trembling as he tried not to scream or cry or punch the man senseless.

Guillaume pulled Leandra closer and took one of her hands as he stared seriously into her eyes.

Leandra shied away from him but didn’t stop the embrace from happening which was like a dagger in Malcolm’s heart.

“Ma cherie, after everything that's happened with Isaac I wouldn’t dare put us at odds any longer.”

Leandra couldn’t meet Guillaume’s gaze, her eyes pulled unwillingly to Malcolm who was not looking at them at all. “Guillaume, I don’t know what you mean.”

Guillaume patted her hand. “I’m withdrawing my family’s bid for Ser Hawke. If there is truly a curse, then I shall not have you unprotected.”

Leandra didn’t know what to say so she went with a diplomatic, “That’s very generous, Guillaume.”

“Not at all,” he said, kissing her cheek, his mouth lingering near her face. as he said, “Besides we’ll be husband and wife soon, so chances are he’ll be serving us both in time.”

And that’s when Malcolm turned to the Knight-Commander and said, “I think I should go check in on Isaac, yes?”

The Knight Commander seemed surprised but pleased by Malcolm’s initiative and said, “Do that. I will escort everyone else out.”

Leandra immediately launched after him as he stormed away, forgetting anyone else was there. “Malcolm!” she cried out.

He turned to meet her, stopping her with a glare and she went red, realizing that Gamlen was smirking at her as he raised an eyebrow about how she would play this.

“Leandra, is something wrong?” Guillaume stared in confusion, a hand touching hers imploring her to spill her troubles.

But her attention was on Malcolm. She bit her lip as Malcolm watched her along with everyone else and unsure what she was doing she stuck out her hand like Guillaume did. “I’m truly indebted to you. I won’t forget my whole life, what you did for me.”

Malcolm’s face softened into a smile, truly the only thanks he was actually looking for, and he couldn’t help but take her hand since it looked so warm and inviting, “And I’d do it again,” he said as he brought her hand to his mouth and put a chaste kiss on her knuckle.

It was proper, but so very intimate that her face flooded with warmth, her breath caught in her throat.

“Messere Hawke,” The Knight-Commander barked strictly, causing the both of them to jump.

Malcolm cleared his throat and left without a word, the Knight-Commander glaring daggers into his back.

---

Every goat eye searched the whole surface of the Fade, but it seemed that the Compassion spirit had indeed escaped his labyrinth. How she managed to get in, he did not know. Everything in this realm was supposed to be loyal to him. If there were whispers of her coming he should have known about it.

And yet the Fade protected her. Hid her. His own minions of his realm would not raise a hand to fight her.

What was she to them?

And why was it so hard to kill one measly Compassion spirit? They had hardly any offensive powers. They spent their days healing the sick, not taking on embodiments of darkness. Still if the Somniari Bonded with her, it would prevent his Bonding to take place. The Spirit would have to die first.

An eye alerted him that it found something and he teleported to a wing of the palace that he had forgotten about but seemed to have been altered. Drapes of fabric held from the ceiling and it seemed like collected human artifacts like statues and goblets filled with gold and shiny jewels was scattered through the room. In the middle was a bed draped in silks, the roof overhead broken so the moon shone on Avarice in a masculine form, wearing nothing at all. Her chiseled muscles were relaxed in the plush bed as she stared at Zelophehad with a smirk on her face.

“So he got away.”

Zelophehad almost killed the demoness out of pride but his need for her kept him from lashing out. “There was an intruder. Why did you not take care of it?”

The demoness’ long fiery purple hair danced on her head lazily, “I thought you didn’t need me.”

The taunting jab made Zelophehad punch a decayed wall. A new crack ran up it all the way to the ceiling. “I can always find a smarter demon.”

That only made her smirk widen. “I delivered the Somniari gagged and bound, as ordered. I could have had him for myself, Master, but I only spared him because of my loyalty to you.”

Zelophehad sneered, his ugly mouth a mess of gnarled teeth. “That Compassion spirit will regret toying with me. I’ll burn every ounce of Compassion until there is none left in this world.”

The demoness chewed on her cheek, her violet pupiless eyes not masking disappointment. “You could do that, or….”

“Or…” the Nightmare echoed impatiently.

The demoness perched herself up on a pillow. “We approach a mortal and make a strike in the waking world.”

Zelophehad cocked his head at the idea, a malevolent smile spreading on his inky lips. “I know just the one.”

#malcolm/leandra #dragon age fic #da fic #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic

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bookofjudith · 4 years

Text

I received this LOVELY ficlet set in the same AU as ‘a cardinal hits the window’, and it made me cry. thank you so much anon for sending it to me!

_________

Hi! So. I love your fanfic so much. And I was reading through the comments/threats posted on “Cardinal” and saw one that made a suggestion for a fic set in the same universe that involved Zuko. And the plot bunny attacked. So here it is; self-indulgent and un-edited. Please don’t feel obligated to post this at all! It’s just a thank you for all you’ve written. On the other hand, please feel free to throw this up wherever you want, and to make any changes at all to it. From this point on, it’s fully, 100% yours to do with as you please. May your weekend be lovely!

Warnings: Brief mentions of past character deaths, mentions of injury, mentions of surgery and other hospital things, mentions of child abuse.

It always took long enough for Iroh to register that he was hearing his own mobile phone ringing – there was just always so much background noise in the Jasmine Dragon that he had learned to tune everything but the landline and the words ‘excuse me’ and his name out completely – that it stopped before he got to answer it. Usually, when that happened, he let it be; there was no point dropping things to dive for a call he’d already missed, anyway. But, that afternoon, the phone started up again almost as soon as the last call had died down, and the ringing was close enough to the first that he noticed. Still, by the time he’d carefully set the trays down and fished the device from his pocket, it was silent again. Iroh peered at the screen and felt his eyebrows raise even as his heart clenched suddenly. He had no fewer than eleven missed calls – four from Sokka, and seven from Katara.

The landline rang, but Iroh called for Jin to please answer it, his fingers slow but determined on the phone screen before him. Something was wrong; he could feel it in the very blood his thudding heart was pumping around his body. Something was wrong, because Katara and Sokka wouldn’t be that adamant to get hold of him if it wasn’t. And, oh, hadn’t he had a premonition of ill omens the evening before, when Zuko had asked him to swap out his shift at the Dragon last minute but then had been cagey about why? He should have pressed for more information; should have forced Zuko to tell him why he couldn’t meet his eyes as he mumbled out weak excuses. Meeting somebody who can only make that time Zuko had said. Katara’s coming with. Iroh shouldn’t have let that appease him; shouldn’t have been mollified by the young woman’s presence just because she and Zuko had made such surprising, strong friends in the past few years after their initial rocky start. He should have done more than warn Zuko to take care of Katara, not yet fifteen and therefore more Zuko’s responsibility than any of his other friends, and should have not been so easily reassured by Zuko’s offence at the insinuation that he wouldn’t do all in his power to ensure all those he cared about were safe, but especially the younger ones. He should have –

“Iroh!” Jin stuck her head around the door. “The phone’s for you. It’s Katara. And it sounds urgent.”

Iroh abandoned his attempts to call one of the siblings back and instead half ran to the phone. “Katara?”

“Uncle,” Katara sobbed, her breathing harsh and full of tears. Ice began filling Iroh’s veins as sweat broke out all over him. “Uncle you – you have to come quick.”

“Katara, what happened?”

“You have to get to the h…hospital,” Katara sobbed. “It’s Zuko.”

Iroh’s heart nearly stopped beating on the spot, and he hung up without a proper goodbye.

***

Iroh’s heart didn’t stop beating. But Zuko’s had. If Katara, with her first aid certification, hadn’t been there… If the ambulance hadn’t arrived before he’d crashed a second time…

He’d promised himself, when he’d lost Lu Ten, that he’d never take for granted the spaces a beloved son filled inside his heart and his chest. Never again would he only notice how full he had been because there was suddenly emptiness there. But, despite his promises, he must have still forgotten, because sitting in an uncomfortable waiting room chair while Zuko’s life hung in the balance of the spirits’ and the doctors’ hands, all he could see was the approaching emptiness. What life would be like without Zuko. And he was too numb to even cry.

From Katara, he’d learned this: Zuko had made plans to meet with Azula, to try and convince her to leave Ozai to come to stay with them. He’d been hopeful enough to drop everything to see her, but wary enough that he’d brought Katara along with him as backup. It had started out almost hopeful; Azula had swung between scorn and doubt, between spite and near-broken uncertainty, and Zuko had seemed to really be getting through to her, for once. And then something had changed, and she’d gone on the offensive, dragging Zuko into a fight that had grown worse and worse until Zuko had firmly chosen to walk away. He had told her, out loud, that he was not going to be the person Ozai had tried to make him, that she could contact him if she needed anything or if she was ready to talk, and had begun to walk away. Azula hadn’t liked being left behind. Something in her seemed to snap, and she kept trying to force Zuko to stay. Katara had stepped in, realising it would be easier for her, an outside party, to respond to Azula than it would be for Zuko. Azula had been merciless with her, but Katara had stood her ground. And then Azula had, so quickly Katara still couldn’t understand how or why, brought out a Taser. Zuko had done what he always did – what Iroh had known he would do without thinking about it even as he’d reminded Zuko to take care of Katara: he’d stepped between his friend and harm.

Zuko had gone down, and hadn’t gotten up again, and Azula had zapped him once more in her rage. Katara had shoved Azula off and somehow disarmed her and then fallen to Zuko’s side and had found him unresponsive but panting. And then… then there had been nothing. She couldn’t tell Iroh exactly what had happened after that, but somehow she’d called Sokka on autopilot, and he and Suki had dropped everything to rush over, calling the ambulance as they came. Azula had… disappeared. Katara thought she remembered yelling at Azula to call somebody, and seeing only a face white with shock and horror, staring at her brother’s fallen form. But she couldn’t be sure what had really happened in those moments.

From the doctors, Iroh had learned this: much of Ozai’s complaining about how Zuko was never as fast or strong or energetic or full of endurance as Azula was down to a congenital heart defect. Nobody had picked it up (or so they said, but in Iroh’s head rang Ozai’s voice spitting that Zuko had been lucky to be born) and it had steadily worsened over time, never getting bad enough that it was more than an inconvenience. He would have had mild heart palpitations from time to time, the doctors said. Probably not painful if Zuko had never said anything, the doctors said (but Iroh knew better, he knew his nephew he knew and, oh, Zuko, what more suffering had been kept a secret?). They couldn’t know for sure without a diagnoses, but the worse symptoms would have been that he tired easily, got breathless and/or lightheaded occasionally and had a slightly more rapid heartbeat. Inconvenient, but not truly dangerous. Not until the Taser had been applied directly to his chest.

From the kind nurses he would have flirted with, slightly, if his world wasn’t on the brink of ending, he learned the following: they were doing all they could to fix the underlying damage as well as the damage the Taser had done. They’d tried doing a non-invasive route, first, but had had to resort to opening up his chest. They’d tell him once they heard any other news, they promised.

Katara, Sokka and Suki had been there for an undetermined bit of time at the beginning. Katara, despite being tear-swollen and devastated, hadn’t wanted to leave until she was sure Zuko would be okay, despite the nurses trying to gently but firmly tell her only family was allowed. He is family, she’d snarled at one point, and Iroh had almost had the energy to side with her against the nurse, who hadn’t understood just how true Katara’s words were. Eventually, it had been Sokka who had convinced his little sister to leave. Iroh hadn’t seen it at the time, but sitting in the aching, black eternity of waiting, he suddenly put together the clues he hadn’t recognised before: this hospital haunted that young man in a way that was still viscerally painful. Too much time with his friend who had only recently passed. Too many ghosts, and far too much pain, and his inability to stay, even for Zuko, had finally broken through his little sister’s stubborn fear-love enough for her to agree to leave for the time being. Iroh might have imagined it, but they could possibly have said they’d gather the whole group together in order to wait for news.

It was one of the most coherent things Iroh thought about in that ceaseless agony. The rest of his thoughts were far more incoherent, with only brief flashes of lucidity. No, don’t call his father, I’m his guardian. I will not let his father near him, was the longest sentence he said out loud. The rest were monosyllabic responses coaxed out of some automatic part of himself while his true nature hunkered down like a wounded animal, believing that if he was just quiet and still enough the pain wouldn’t find him a second time.

That wounded animal also had teeth, however, and it bared them in his mind. Why hadn’t a single doctor in the burn unit picked up the heart problems? Zuko had been in their care for months. Why hadn’t Ursa? Why hadn’t Iroh himself? Why hadn’t Zuko just said something? How often had he said I’m tired and meant that his body was unable, unable, unable to do what the world was demanding of it? Why had Zuko gone to meet Azula in the first place, with only Katara with him? Zuko should know by now what a poisonous woman Ozai had made his daughter into. A Taser. Her own brother. Could he arrest her for it? Could he make sure that Azula never again hurt another person? Could he punish her for what she’d done, the way Ozai had punished Zuko so many times?

Shame made him lucid. Shame and guilt and a bowed head of silent apology to his niece. But, even as he meant it, he also did not. There would be time to truly repent for the things he felt toward Azula in those long moments, but that time would come after. He simply… did not have the capacity to forgive and see reason and compassion for his as-abused niece while his nephew – his son, his Zuko – possibly lay dying. Those moments turned him back into the man he’d spent years growing away from after Lu Ten’s death, because, as much as he’d genuinely changed and fought for that change, he was only human. More than that; he was Ozai’s kin.

That shame in him made him think, as the tired doctor walked toward him, that the universe would punish him the same way twice. And all he could think, distorted and desperate, was, please don’t kill him for my transgressions. Nor for Ozai’s or even Azula’s. Please. You’ve done enough. He’s paid enough. He’s done enough reparations for himself that he doesn’t deserve this.

From the tired doctor, Iroh learned this: he was still allowed to keep this son.

Crying loudly in the middle of the hospital was not one of the things Iroh would feel shame about in the days to come.

***

Sweet talking and bribing all the nurses not only meant that Iroh could stay past visiting hours but that he could sneak Zuko’s friends in past the family only rule. Zuko would only be kept in the hospital for a week before being discharged to heal at home, but the kids couldn’t wait that long to see him, and Iroh understood their anxiety. They’d been told to limit it to two at a time, and Katara was almost always one of the two. Some of her tenacity being at Zuko’s side was born of guilt and processing the trauma she’d been through, Iroh knew, but most of it was that near-nameless understanding that had dropped between the two of them, sometime Iroh hadn’t been looking. Suki was second most frequent, Aang and Toph were tied and Sokka… Sokka barely came. Iroh was nearly as anxious to get Zuko home for Sokka’s sake as he was for his own and Zuko’s, because it was obvious that Sokka wanted to be there for Zuko, but just as obvious that the hospital killed him inside.

“It… smells the same,” he’d confessed to Iroh, looking haunted and on the verge of tears.

Zuko whispered something similar to Iroh when he was most inhibited; when calm and focus couldn’t stop the memories of the burn unit from encroaching. That morning, Iroh had found his nephew in one of those moods – anxious enough he was making the nurses frown at his heart rate and anxious enough to snap and snarl to try and get them to stop poking, stop demanding, stop keeping him there – and so he’d made a big show of going to get Zuko his favourite food. It hadn’t helped, much, but it had helped Zuko get his tongue under control a little bit more. Iroh returned with the food to hear murmurs from inside Zuko’s closed curtains, and so he paused and took a peek inside before entering.

Katara was on Zuko’s hospital bed, curled carefully on his left side so that she didn’t jostle or lean on Zuko’s still very broken sternum. One hand was in his hair, and Iroh realised that she was guarding his weaker side as Iroh himself had subtly tried to do countless times. Having somebody trusted there helped Zuko to relax more, and she knew this. Sokka was the other one in the room, and, although he was still in a chair, it was pushed so close to the bed his knees were up to his chest. He was holding Zuko’s hand, and looking utterly unperturbed by that fact.

The most surprising thing was that Zuko was the one speaking; murmuring reassurances and comforts to both of them in a voice still weak and breathy and more raspy than usual. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re both okay. Thank you, Katara. Sokka, buddy, hey… Hey…

Iroh backed away. It wasn’t for him to see. It tasted bittersweet in a sharp way he wasn’t sure he’d ever really experienced, before; Zuko reassuring a friend who had saved his life and a friend who hated hospitals because he’d lost love slowly, painfully, inevitably inside of one. Zuko, surrounded by so much love, this time around, when the first time he’d been so alone and small and quiet and heartbrokenly enraged in a similar bed. That young boy hadn’t even had the pieces to comfort himself, let alone others. And here Zuko was now, being comforted and giving out comfort. Without tripping over himself, without second-guessing, without embarrassment, because that love had become second-nature.

In that moment, Iroh truly began to repent for what he’d thought about his niece. Because he understood all too well why Zuko had gone to meet Azula, and why, even after all this, he’d never stop trying to coax his sister into a proper home.

***

The tense, anxious mood relaxed slightly when Toph began to cackle out of nowhere. “How much does this suck, eh?” she giggled at Zuko.

Zuko rolled his eyes, even though she wouldn’t be able to see it, pinned between Suki and Sokka, who were each gripping an elbow, and hemmed in by Iroh and Katara in the front and Aang at the back, ready to catch him if he fell.

“If I ever coddle you like this, push me down these stairs,” Zuko grumbled at her.

“It’s a deal,” Toph said, cheerfully, even as Suki gently – very gently – flicked Zuko with her free hand.

Katara put her hands on her hips. “Say that without panting or wheezing and when you don’t look white enough to pass out and it might have more weight,” she said, primly.

But they did all ease up some as they continued to slowly shepherd Zuko to Iroh’s apartment. There was no elevator, and the stairs were steep, and despite the fact that they might have been a little over-protective, it was hard going on Zuko’s broken chest and still-healing heart. And so they all stuck close, and caught him when he staggered a little, very careful of his broken bits, and finally managed to ease him down onto the sofa. Zuko’s eye widened a little as he looked up and caught them all looming over him, very close, all huddled together.

“Holy shit, you guys – ” he started, sounding exasperated.

“Okay, okay, yeah, back up and give the dude some space.”

Everybody shuffled maybe a step or two away. Suki kept her eyes carefully on Zuko’s face, noting the things Iroh himself was picking up. Suki met Iroh’s eyes and pursed her lips a little before venturing forward with, “Hey… if you want us to rather go and come back tomorrow…”

Zuko blinked at her. “I thought we were watching shitty movies,” he said, in confusion.

“Yeah, but… if you’d rather sleep,” Katara said, catching on.

Sokka let out a rude noise. “Then he can sleep. But, dude, Movie Night Rules apply to you, too, so if you’re the first to go you know you’ll wake up with a Sharpie ‘stash.”

“As long as Toph doesn’t draw it,” Zuko said, and Toph happily flipped him the bird.

Still, Suki met Iroh’s eyes one more time, seeking permission. Iroh smiled warmly at her and made a gently, slowly motion with his hands where Zuko couldn’t see. And so the group arranged themselves, snacks and extra pillows – most of them for Zuko – and set up Toph’s state-of-the-art laptop. Sokka sat to Zuko’s one side, Suki on the other with her leg casually over Zuko’s, both of them as close as they could be without hurting. Toph and Aang sprawled on a futon nearest the laptop, while Katara had a beanbag chair set up so that her back could press against Zuko’s legs while her legs could be used for Aang to lounge against.

Iroh persisted until he captured a great photo of the moment, because he wanted to remember what quiet, strong love looked like for many days to come.

“Who wants tea?” he called as the opening credits started, and he knew their grunts enough to know who had answered and what, exactly to get each of them.

He, just like Zuko, was also no longer alone.

#gift fic #Anonymous #a cardinal hits the window #every part where u mentioned sokka made me tear up HONESTLY #also galaxy brain anon giving zuko heart problems cus like...ive done the same thing....something about it just hits different #submission

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vincess-princess · 4 years

Text

What Is Lost, What Is Found

Chapter 5.

Word count: 4417 Warnings: alcohol consumption, addiction mention

This time Mick stayed late in the store. A bunch of records that arrived that day were damaged, and he spent hours arguing on the phone with the provider demanding to replace the order. He did succeed in it, but when he put the phone down, the sky was already dark-blue and public transport wasn’t working. One more reason to get a car, a gloomy thought crossed his mind. If those problems with the supplies continued to arise, he wouldn’t be able to save up enough to buy a car in the foreseeable future.

Then there was his, well, other problem. As stress was building up in him due to financial difficulties, he found it harder and harder to keep away from the bottle. Even if he managed to keep himself from hiding one more bottle of whiskey in the counter, he inevitably got caught by nearby bars. Every day he passed them on his way to work and on his way home, and often ended up inside with his savings all gone, wasted. The next day there was always shame and self-disgust, and a lot of promises to give up, now for good. All those promises went forgotten once a Friday came about.

This night was a Wednesday night, and Mick already craved a drink. Before, he would just give in to the craving, but now every time he saw Vince’s face in front of him. His relieved expression after Mick lied to him haunted him. You told him you had quit. The only thing you do well is lie. You are so weak.

Mick’s hands were shaking when he was counting money. He dropped a coin, and it rolled under the counter. God fucking damn.

Mick plopped down on his knees and stuck his hand under the counter to get the coin. It was just out if his reach. Now, if he managed to stick his hand a little farther-

The door of the shop opened with a loud bang, and Mick heard steps of three people coming inside. What the hell? He was sure he had put a “closed” plate on the door...

“Anyone in here?” a male voice asked. Mick tried to pull his hand from under the counter, but it stuck.

“A second!” he called, frantically trying to free his hand. Finally, he managed to get it out, grazing the skin on his knuckles in process.

“Yes?” He stood up, and his jaw went slack.

Two policemen stood in the center of the shop, and one of them was holding a boy by the shoulder. The boy’s face seemed familiar, spiky black hair and stubborn crease of the eyebrows, but Mick had to rack his brains to recognize him. He stared mindlessly at the boy for a few awkward seconds until he dug up the face in front of him in his memory.

It was Nikki, Tommy’s and Vince’s friend. Right here, in his shop, accompanied by two cops.

“Uncle Mick!” Nikki exclaimed. Mick blinked in confusion. As far as he knew, he didn’t have any nephews until this very day. “I was just grabbing some hot dogs for us and these co- gentlemen said I broke the curfew.”

“Excuse me?” he murmured, staring at Nikki. The boy stared back, tapping his foot on the floor nervously.

“Sir, this boy claims to be your nephew,” one of the cops spoke. “Is that true?”

Mick looked at the cop, then at Nikki. The boy was making big eyes at him, nodding slightly. Help me, he pronounced with his lips soundlessly. Please.

Should he help him? He was a bad influence on Tommy, didn’t let him come to his store at first and was still reluctant about it now. Vince never talked about him and when asked retreated to one-word answers, which was as far from Vince that Mick knew as possible. Mick could as well tell the cops he didn’t know him - to get rid of him. Maybe without him Tommy would- he and Vince would agree-

Oh well.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “What, is that so late already? I might have lost the track of time.”

“It is, Mr- what’s your name?”

“Mars,” Mick said on a whim. “Oh, wait, you want my legal name. Deal, it’s Deal.”

“Mr Deal, why did you let the boy out so late? Don’t you know about the existence of a curfew for kids and teenagers?” The police officer said with barely a note of disapproval. He really didn’t care. Well, neither did Mick.

“To grab some snacks. I do, I do; I just didn’t notice it’s already too late for kids to go out. Time flies by, y’know.”

“Well, next time we will have to bring the boy to the police station and file a case. We’re ready to turn a blind eye on it now, since it’s your first offence of a kind, but we’ll have to fine you.” The cop’s face livened up when he said “fine”. Of course, Mick thought with disgust and reached into his pocket with a sigh. Cops were always the same. The boy was lucky Mick hated the police so much – definitely much more than him. He didn’t even hate him to the full meaning of the word, definitely not. Rather, he was irritated by him, which was a completely different thing.

He put three dollar bills on the counter, 50$ each. One cop approached and took them. The second raised his eyebrows, so much greediness on his fat, apathetic face Mick barely managed to hold himself from punching him in that face, just not to see it anymore. Instead, he only nodded and reached for his wallet again. The boy was observing them with interest in his eyes, successfully hiding it for the cops behind his bangs. He didn’t seem to be scared or even mildly uncomfortable at all. More than that, Mick could bet he was enjoying it to the fullest. What a motherfucker.

Mick lined three more dollar bills on the counter, and they immediately disappeared in the second cop’s pocket. Only then they released Nikki and left the shop, smiling smugly.

Mick followed them with his gaze until they were out of sight. Then he turned to Nikki and spoke:

“What the fuck that just was?”

Nikki turned his head away, avoiding Mick’s gaze. The enjoyment he had while Mick was dealing with the cops vanished immediately.

“I need to go,” he said, turning towards the door.

“No way,” Mick stood up. “If you get caught the second time, you’re absolutely gonna end up in a police station.”

“I won’t,” Nikki shook his head, his hand already on a doorknob. Still, he stopped and turned to Mick. “I need to check up on Tommy.”

“Anything wrong with him?” Mick frowned.

“We were heading to Starwood when the cops appeared.” Nikki said unwillingly. “I told Tommy to hide and ran to distract them. I need to check up on him.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Mick cut off. “I’ll go. You tell me where you left him.”

Nikki’s grip on the knob strengthened so much his knuckles went white. “I’m going with you. You don’t know all the places.”

“Listen, you-“ Mick started but had to cut the sentence off short because the kid was right. Mick wasn’t a huge partygoer, and only knew the clubs on Sunset Strip from when he used to play in them – which was pretty long ago. He never went to such places to drink - they were too crowded, chock-full with teenagers. He preferred smaller pubs near his home.

“You don’t know all the places,” Nikki added. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it worked – Mick’s stubbornness was weakening. If only there was someone else who knew Tommy better…

There was no one. Mick sighed.

“Alright. You can go. But if we come across cops, I’m talking, alright?”

Nikki just nodded.

***

“Here is where I left him,” Nikki suddenly said fifteen minutes away from the shop. The place was incredibly unremarkable. “I ran across the street, and Tommy hid behind the corner.” They peered behind the aforementioned corner, both knowing it would be useless and both doing it anyway. Tommy, of course, wasn’t there. Still, they looked at each other with disappointment.

“Why did you decide to attract the cops’ attention?” Mick asked as they were crossing the street.

“To let Tommy get away,” Nikki looked at him like he was an idiot. “Haven’t I already said that?”

Mick sighed. Fucking teenagers. “Yes, I’ve heard that. What I want to know is - why not the other way around?”

“You mean, Tommy runs and I hide?” Nikki clarified in a tone an adult would talk in to a four-year-old.

“Yes.”

“Haven’t he told you about his… situation?” Nikki raised his eyebrows.

“He told me a lot of things.”

“I mean his life situation. How he ended up on streets.”

“Ah, this,” Mick recalled the day the third shoplifter hungry for Deep Purple music appeared in his shop. The memory was accompanied with an unexpected fondness. “He told me that on the very first day, in his first few sentences he addressed to me.”

“Yeah, he does that,” the corners of Nikki’s lips curved into a smile. Mick smiled too. It was physically impossible to think about Tommy and not smile. “A big mouth, he is. Then you should understand why it’s better for me to get caught.”

“He doesn’t want to go back to the orphanage.”

“Exactly,” Nikki said. Mick tried to come up with any other option in such a case, but got nothing.

“But shouldn’t the cops bring you to your parents?” Mick asked, recalling Tommy’s stories about Nikki. There was something wrong with his parents, that’s for sure. Tommy never told him much, probably because Nikki hadn’t told him much as well. So what was that? Abuse? Alcoholism? Single parent family? Neglect?

“Parents?” Nikki grinned, but it looked more like an animal baring its teeth before an attack. “I have no parents.”

“Everyone has parents.”

“Well, I don’t anymore. Physically they are still out there, but for me they’re as good as dead.”

“Okay…” Mick looked at Nikki, but he looked strictly forward. His hair covered a good portion of his face, so his expression in the dim lights of the street was undistinguishable. There was something really fucked up between Nikki and his parents and people are always hungry to learn about fucked up things, Mick was no exception. Still, he knew for sure he wasn’t going to get an answer – Mick and Nikki weren’t on exactly friendly terms with each other, and winning Nikki’s trust would be way harder than Tommy’s or even Vince’s.

“Where are we going now?” he asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Nikki kept glancing at him, thinking Mick didn’t notice. He was probably wondering why Mick would go through all the trouble. Mick was wondering about it himself. Still, he kept walking.

“I think we should check the clubs on the Strip first. The security knows us and could let him in.”

“Is it really that easy for a minor to enter an adult-oriented place?”

Nikki chuckled. “Well, not for other minors. But for us – yes.”

“What’s so unique about you three?”

“Everybody knows us,” came the short answer. One of the clubs was right across the street, and Nikki pointed at it. “Here, that’s Starwood. Are you going in with me?”

***

Upon entering the place they met a security guard who looked over Mick with suspicion and nodded to Nikki. As a “responsible adult”, Mick should probably be condemning such violations of the law. But he was never on good terms with the law in general and the government in particular, and, to be honest, hadn’t he done exactly the same when he was fifteen?

Once they were inside, Nikki headed directly towards the bar. The club was stuffy, full of people dancing, kissing and drinking, with some garage band performing on the background. Mick tried to listen, but quickly realized that the guitarist was probably holding the guitar for the first time in his short life, and lost interest.

The bar was a way more interesting place. Mick strained his eyes, trying to find Tommy in the crowd, but to no avail. He turned to Nikki to ask whether he could recognize him in the crowd and discovered that he was already sitting on a bar stool sipping a beer.

Mick sat down on a bar stool next to Nikki. “Weren’t we looking for Tommy?” he murmured indignantly, trying to fix his gaze on Nikki’s face instead of the glass of amazingly cold beer in his hands. How could the kid tease him like that? Of course, he didn’t know Mick had been trying to quit. But it didn’t justify it!

“We are,” Nikki waved to the bartender. “Hey, Tony!” he shouted as the bartender approached them. “Have you seen Tommy over here in the last hour or two?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “Is your, hm, friend ordering anything?”

“No, no, I’m not,” Mick shook his head.

“You sure?” the bartender raised his eyebrow. “People don’t go to clubs just because.”

“I’m still surprised I’m here,” Mick muttered, sending Nikki a murderous gaze. Nikki kept drinking his beer as though he didn’t notice it, though Mick was pretty sure he did. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be Nikki.

Once Nikki finished his beer Mick touched him by the shoulder. “So, are we going to search for Tommy, or you’d rather have fun here?”

“Oh, come on,” Nikki rolled his eyes. “It’s just one glass. I was thirsty.”

Mick only shook his head and got up. He had no power over Nikki, and it wasn’t his job to better him. He was just disappointed. He thought better of him. In Tommy’s stories he was always a hero. But Tommy was so blinded by Nikki’s lone wolf appeal that he couldn’t see his friend’s negative sides.

Nikki watched him getting up and moving the chair back under the counter with an unreadable expression. For a second, Mick thought he would stay. But then Nikki got up as well.

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Nikki put money on the counter and headed towards the door.

The next club they went to Nikki decided not to go in, to Mick’s relief. He just shook hands with the security guard at the door and asked him something. Mick knew the guard would shake his head even before he actually did it. Mick’s anxiety for Tommy kept growing. What if the kid had been arrested and was now at the police station? How were they going to get him out, especially now that he had no legal guardian? Mick could pretend to be his uncle in front of only two not very meticulous cops in his own shop, but at the police station he would have to prove it.

“Nothing?” he asked when Nikki returned. The kid just shook his head.

The next club, apparently, had some relatively famous band playing tonight: the line of mostly teenagers stretched out across the street.

“We’re not going to stay in this line, are we?” Mick asked Nikki, dreading the answer. If they had to stay in the line they would lose too much time. More than that, Mick didn’t feel confident surrounded by so many teenagers. It was their place and their time: Mick didn’t belong in it.

“Nah,” Nikki shook his head. “I’m just gonna go ask the guard. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I hope so,” Mick murmured, following Nikki with his gaze as the kid found his way through the line, eliciting a few angry calls from the teenagers. Mick leaned against the wall a little away from them, feeling uncomfortable under the gazes of so many teenagers. Someone in the line laughed, and Mick flinched. They weren’t laughing at him, were they?..

Well, that was just stupid, he berated himself. He had as much right to stay here as any of the kids in the line. And since when did he care about what some dumb kids think of him?..

When Nikki returned, he shook his head again silently. Mick sighed. The hope to find Tommy was getting thinner and thinner. And if they wouldn’t find him, how was he going to sleep at night knowing Tommy was in danger?

“They have London playing over there,” Nikki suddenly said as they headed to the next club. It was a little farther away, adding a few minutes of walking. “I used to be their bassist.”

“Got kicked out?”

“Sorta. I got my bass stolen, and didn’t have enough money to buy a new one.”

“It’s a pretty expensive instrument. How did you get it in the first place?”

“Stole it,” Nikki giggled. “Went into a shop with an empty guitar case, and as the shop assistant was searching in the back, I just took the guitar, put it in the case and left.”

Mick glanced at him quickly. “It’s karma. You had stolen the bass and then someone stole it from you too. What else did you expect?”

“Bullshit,” Nikki waved his hand. “I just hope someone steals my bass from that jerk as well.”

Mick smiled. Nikki was more of a kid than he and Nikki himself imagined. And it was reassuring, in a way. Nikki could act like he’s all grown up, but underneath this façade he was still a kid.

The rest of the way they walked in silence. As they neared the last bar – Whiskey, Mick recalled, he used to play there from time to time, - Nikki pointed at it.

“You sure you don’t want to have a drink? Here they’re making good Bloody Marys.

“I’m not drinking,” Mick refused almost confidently. Almost. “Haven’t Vince told you yet? I quit.”

“We don’t speak much now,” Nikki said, frowning. “He’s always at his boyfriend’s, and I don’t like him.”

“Vince or boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend, of course,” Nikki curved his lips in disgust. “Vince’s always picking older guys, and as for me, they’re just using him for sex. But he doesn’t want to listen to me. And his boyfriends always hate me, I don’t know why.”

Mick just nodded. As for him, it was perfectly reasonable why. A mere mention of Vince’s boyfriends got Nikki so agitated it was clear it wasn’t just a nuisance for him. But Mick sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Nikki about that.

Of course, there was no Tommy in Whiskey. Nikki didn’t have to tell Mick: just seeing him in the doorframe, alone, was enough. They both turned around and headed back without a word. Mick kept glancing at Nikki, waiting for “well, I gotta go”, but Nikki was silent. He was silent as they crossed the street and approached Mick’s store. He was silent as Mick opened the door.

“Would you like to, um, stay the night?” Mick finally gained enough courage to ask, tired of the heavy silence between them. He was more nervous now than he was asking his first girlfriend out.

“Okay,” Nikki shrugged. Mick felt his knees weakening. Okay? That was it?! “Not that I have any other place to go.”

Mick inhaled slowly. All the “paranoid junkie” bullshit Tommy was talking about (or, rather, the conclusions Mick drew from his words) made him think Nikki would never agree to come to his shop in person, let alone ask for help and stay the night. Maybe Tommy exaggerated a little. Nikki was wary, yes, but not outright hostile.

“And where were you going to sleep this night then?” Mick finally asked, recalling the “no place to go” part.

“I haven’t thought of it yet. I prefer to focus on the present.”

“I have only one sofa, by the way.” Mick told him, smiling at the confidence the kid said it with. “Someone is gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

“No problem,” Nikki shook his head. “I had it worse. Do you have something to eat, by the way? I’m starving.”

“Say no more,” Mick found a bag of chips in the counter and handed it to Nikki. “As a responsible adult I’ve got to warn you that it’s not healthy and nutritious,” he then fished a half-finished bottle of coke out of the counter and immediately closed the door so that Nikki wouldn’t see all the empty whiskey and vodka bottles lying in it.

“Enjoy,” Mick turned the key in the lock, making sure it was closed. With a person such as Nikki, one could expect anything. Not that he didn’t trust the boy, not really. But money is money.

“Thamks,” Nikki slurred, his mouth already full. “I don’t like your responsible adult mode,” he said once he swallowed and could speak clearly. “Don’t you want to just have some fun sometimes? Go to a bar, get shitfaced, get laid? What do you even do for fun, count your taxes?”

“That was rude,” Mick commented, actually trying not to laugh. He also once had that sex, drugs and rock’n’roll mindset. Until he ran out of money. “Be careful with accident hook-ups, kid, or you will end up like me.”

“What, an independent business owner in the center of LA?” Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Sounds alright to me.”

Mick laughed. “Up to your ears in alimony!”

“Oh,” Nikki said thoughtfully and reached for more chips. “I didn’t know you have kids.”

“We’re talking for the first time since the day I caught you,” Mick reminded. Nikki winced at these words. “I would be more surprised if you did. But, knowing Tommy…”

“Yeah, he tells me everything,” Nikki nodded. “And I’ve heard nothing about them from him. How old are they?”

“Eight and five. They live with their mother.”

“Do you see them often?”

Mick sighed. “No. Can we drop the topic?”

“Sure,” Nikki just put a handful of chips in his mouth and the phrase sounded muffled. “But it’s a pity, really,” he added when his mouth was empty again.

“It is,” Mick murmured. He needed to put an end to this conversation immediately. “Now, isn’t it bedtime?”

“Oh, come on,” Nikki waved his hand. “Turn off that responsible adult mode. Do you maybe by any chance have some whiskey?”

“Bed,” Mick pointed at the backroom and frowned, more for a laugh.

“Okay, mom,” Nikki rolled his eyes, but got up and headed to the backroom. “I can sleep on the floor, but I get a blanket then, alright?”

“Sure, it’s fair,” Mick agreed. The perspective of sleeping on the sofa without a blanket wasn’t very attractive, but sleeping on the floor would fuck up his spine for a long time coming. He checked the lock on the door and followed Nikki to the backroom. It wasn’t the first time he stayed the night at work, but it was the first time he had a roommate. He only hoped Nikki wouldn’t snore.

Meanwhile, Nikki had already put the blanket on the floor and settled on it.

“Good night,” Mick told him as he lay down on the sofa.

Nikki looked surprised. “Good night, I guess. And… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Nikki fell asleep quickly, but Mick stayed awake for a long time, tormented by the pain in his back. It obviously didn’t like his midnight walk around the city. He checked up on Nikki every now and then, amazed at how peaceful he looked while sleeping. It was like all his concerns that left their trace on his face during the day disappeared during the night. A kid of his age shouldn’t have so many concerns, Mick thought. Teenagehood is a time for bad marks, hanging out with friends till sunrise, first crushes, and definitely not a time of thinking where to spend a night and how to survive the next day. Anger washed over Mick, making him clench his fists as he kept looking at Nikki peacefully snoring, clutching his backpack even in his sleep. Whoever did this to Nikki didn’t deserve to have kids at all, let alone take care of them. Nikki deserved better.

Mick couldn’t fall asleep for a long time, recalling the day again and again, every move, every word. He was pretty sure this wasn’t the first time Nikki broke the law. Staying in a police station for a night would have been just another nuisance for him, not a life-changing situation. So after all Mick had heard from Tommy about Nikki he least of all expected Nikki to need help – his help, of all people. They’d never even talked before. Why did he do it then? It was weird, and from the image Mick had in his head based on Tommy’s stories and what he saw today, not at all Nikki-like.

On the other hand, he didn’t know Nikki all that well. Who knew what was going on in that head of his?

There was one thing, however, that Mick was sure about. Nikki would come back. One day or another, but he would. Not after what happened today.

***

Mick woke up from energetic banging on the door. He looked at the clock. Well, no doubt he overslept – it was almost an hour after he was supposed to open the shop. Still, what kind of customer would actually bang on the door of a closed shop?

Of course it weren’t customers. It were Tommy and Vince.

When Mick saw them, he wanted to both hug and kill them. Now it was clear that Tommy went over to sleep at Vince’s. What’s more, it was perfectly logical. Why didn’t they even think about it yesterday?

“Hey, Mick! …why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m gonna murder you one day,” Nikki promised solemnly from behind Mick’s back. He had probably also been woken up by the banging.

“I love you too,” Tommy grinned. “Can I know why?”

“Where the fuck did you go last night? We walked round the entire neighborhood!”

“We?..” Tommy looked at Mick questioningly.

“I’m not ready for this,” Mick waved his hand and stepped to the side. “Nikki, you tell them.”

“Oh, I will,” Nikki promised gravely. Mick retreated to the backroom, sprawled on the couch and closed his eyes, listening to indistinguishable voices from the store.

As though a weight had been lifted off Mick’s shoulders when he saw Tommy alive and well. Why did he even care so much?

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx #mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil (honorary mention)#phew this chapter turned out waaay longer than i planned #but the more the better amirite?#im not very satisfied with this #i could do better #but im completely braindead at the moment #so have this #what is lost what is found

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imaginesforjohnnydepp · 4 years

Text

Violette pt 2

spring 2016

He dreamed about her again, just like last night and the night before. Johnny hadn’t seen Violette in eighteen years, and he thought it was very odd but was still very curious. Is she remarried with kids of her own? Is she still in the medical field? Johnny still had the note she left him along with her rings; they were tucked away in a box somewhere in a storage unit, he didn’t want to throw them away, so he took out a storage unit some years ago.

Why was he thinking about her now, of all times? He loved Violette once, of course he did, it was impossible when she made it so easy. She was gorgeous and funny and sweet and smart, a southern girl with a cute accent, and was a wonderful cook who loved him and supported him every early in his career. He thought back to their marriage, how wonderful it was for ten years before he fucked it up. He loves his kids and is grateful for Vanessa for giving him two kids who adore him, but Johnny hated what he did to Violette in the process.

He thought that if he ever had kids, Violette would be the mother. They tried for their own, and when that didn’t work, they considered adoption until his career took off and he was always away filming one movie or another, and then he met Vanessa at that party. Johnny remembered the look on Violette’s face when he told her that Vanessa was pregnant, he never forgot it. She tried to shrug it off, but as weeks passed and Vanessa’s stomach got bigger and bigger, he saw the toll it took on her, no matter how she tried to hide it: Violette began losing weight, she stopped eating (at least around him), she always looked tired no matter how early she went to bed. And the first time she met Vanessa.

The women were friendly with each other in the way that kids would be when introduced to each other in a play group by their parents for the first time. He thought everything was going well, Violette was talking about turning one of the spare rooms into a nursery, she bought stuffed animals and clothes and supplies, helped assemble the crib. Johnny saw her reaction in the marriage counselor’s office when the counselor said he had to cut off Vanessa and his child if they wanted the marriage to work; Violette never had a good poker face, and in another setting, he thought she would make a good actress with her ability to display her emotions on her face, how she always made him feel something, something he told her plenty of times. He didn’t think she’d actually leave.

Of course it was a possibility, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Violette leaving, but one day Johnny came home, all of her stuff was gone, and there were divorce papers, rings, and a letter in a manila envelope on the bed. It was a no-fault divorce, and all she asked for was a court order to take back her maiden name, and nothing more, even though she was entitled, and the judge told her she had to take it. The divorce took six months, and she would always transfer the money back every month since she already had a job waiting on her in Louisiana, and that was the last time he’d see or hear from her. It was seven in the morning, and he had a meeting with his lawyer Laura at ten so he decided to get ready, grabbing his phone off the charger and heading into the kitchen for breakfast. As he poured the milk into his bowl of Cheerios, his phone rang; who could be calling at this hour? “Good morning Laura.”

And Laura jumped right into it: “I did a Google search for your ex wife Violette Becnel and fortunately, I didn’t have to do too much digging. She is a pediatrician in New Orleans and she went on Facebook to defend you. I’m on her Facebook page right now if you want to hear what she said.” Johnny almost dropped the milk at the news. Why didn’t he think to do a Google search before? “Yeah, sure.” The thought of Violette out there rooting for him filled him with joy.

“The statement is pretty long so prepare yourself” My heart breaks at the news of the death of my former mother-in-law Betty Sue. She was a wonderful, kind, amazing woman, and I will miss her dearly, and I send my thoughts and condolences to the Depp family, and since I’m on the topic of Depp, I would like to make one thing clear. Johnny Depp and I were married for 10 wonderful years, and while no marriage is perfect, not once was he ever abusive towards me. I don’t believe he is capable of such a thing, and this version of him that is being portrayed in the media is not the Johnny I know. I wish him and his family the best in this trying and difficult time. His mom loved Violette, his entire family loved Violette, and they were just as upset about their divorce as he was. “Do you think she’d be willing to testify?” Johnny didn’t think she would come to defend him after he publicly humiliated her, but she was never the one to hold grudges.

“I can send her a message, but I don’t know how long it will take for her to respond.” He swallowed a bit of cereal before responding, “that’s fine. Thanks Laura-- wait! Do you think you can leave my number for her too? So she knows it’s legit?” And also because he wanted an excuse to talk to her. “Sure, if that’s what you want. See you later Johnny.” Johnny hoped that Violette answered Laura’s message, there was still a lot of things he wanted to tell her, things he had to tell her.

Violette

“Do you think you’ll have to testify?” Violette’s mother Claudia asked, cutting into her omelette. “If it comes that, then yeah, but I have a hard time believing Johnny could hurt someone like that.” After Violette wrote the post, she instantly had a barrage of comments, some calling her an abuse apologist, others saying she was bribed by Johnny with money, and others siding with her, and her messages were a mess. “None of this makes sense, there has to be somethin’ deeper going on,” her sister Angela. She woke up early this morning to do a little research; from what she saw, Amber was leaving him (after the death of Betty Sue), and if Johnny didn’t do what she wanted, she would publicly lie about him according to Doug’s article.

Violette then read an article that contained a statement by the police department, which completely contradicted the statement made by Amber’s team. Then Amber filed for divorce with no mention of spousal abuse; Violette knew Doug and she knew he wouldn’t lie about anything like this, and this was all she needed to know to see that Johnny was innocent. “I still can’t believe your fool ass stickin’ your neck out for him,” Angela grumbled. “Lawyers re probably gonna call on me anyway, so I might as well get it over with. Ain’t no way he touched her.” She saw the new set of pictures, “evidence” of the abuse but Violette didn’t see anything out of the ordinary except for a red mark on her lip, with no visible swelling or bruising.

“Johnny is innocent, and I know you know that.” Her mom and Angela both loved Johnny; her mom treated her like a son, always letting him sneak a piece of food during the holidays, and Angela just loved having a brother. “Please, I know you’re not happy about how our marriage ended, but none of that matters right now, that was years ago. What matters now is that he’s being accused of something he didn’t do,” Violette pleaded with her mom and sister. Surely they had to know that he was innocent, even if they weren’t exactly his biggest fans. “Well... it does sound out of character for him. And I read that woman was arrested for hitting her ex wife,” Angelea came to her decision.”

“If Johnny was really out here beatin’ up on women, I’m sure Betty Sue would smack him back to Kentucky,” Violette’s mother agreed. The family of three finished their meal, with Angela picking up the bill before going their own ways; Violette did her errands, going to the sore and doing laundry. It was a little after two when she finished, and she wanted to take a nap before she went to the hospital to check on the new baby tonight. Violette always loved seeing the new babies after they were born, loved seeing them grow into little beings with each check-up, and they always looked happy to see her. She was always a natural with kids and they seemed to gravitate towards her no matter where she was; Violette sometimes babysat the kids who lived in her building.

It was closest she got to motherhood. That and being aunt to Angela’s kids, her niece and nephew, but they were all grown up with lives of their own. Violette ironed her scrubs while she waited for her Facebook page to load; she wanted to leave a message on her book club’s wall about suggestions for their next read. Her last post had gone viral, and was still attracting attention and comments, all of them gone unanswered, and she was glad she never downloaded the app. Her messages were full, and at the top of the old messages, was a new one highlighted in blue by a woman named Laura Wasser; she clicked on it.

The message read: My name is Laura Wasser, I’m a lawyer representing Johnny Depp, and I was wondering if it would be okay to speak to you about a possible written testimony to be given to the court. Below are my cellphone number and email address, and Johnny’s phone number in case you have any questions. Feel free to reach me at any time.

There was an email address and two phone numbers, both with Los Angeles area codes. The name sounded familiar, so Violette clicked on Laura’s page; she really is a lawyer who lives in Los Angeles. She dialed one of the numbers, and the line rang three times before someone answered, a man’s voice. “Hello?” A voice she hadn’t heard in years.

“Johnny? Johnny is that you?” So maybe Laura is the real deal. “Violette? How are you?” To say she was freaking out would be an understatement. Eighteen years without speaking to her the ex husband who cheated on her, and how here she is, talking to him. “I should be the one asking you that. Are you okay? How are you holding up? How’s your family?” Words kept falling from her mouth and she couldn’t make herself shut up.

“Violette, Violette, calm down. Not everything’s fine but we’re managing. Let’s not talk about that right now. I... I had to talk to you.” He wanted to talk to her? “About what?” “Just to apologize... for everything.” “Really, that was a long time ago and... I’m past that now. There’s no need to apologize.”

This had to be some kind of dream, maybe she fell asleep at her desk in her office while doing paperwork, because there’s absolutely no way she’s speaking to her ex husband. Violette had to change the subject, and fast. “I got a message from your lawyer. She gave me your number, but I didn’t think it would actually be your number but I had to check.” “Listen, you don’t have to testify if you don’t feel comfortable with it--” “No, Johnny, I want to. I know you’re innocent and I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

She really did feel bad for him, and to be going through this after his mom dies with the entire world thinking he’s some violent drunk who beats women. “None of this is your fault, it’s mine. I was so fucking stupid to think of starting something with her.” “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault. You were in love, and we’ve all done stupid things when we’re in love.” Violette winced as she automatically though of her former ex fiance Anthony. He had three kids with three different women, but she didn’t care because she was sure he was the one.

Her mom and Angela didn’t like him, and she turned into a different person completely, watching movies and shows she never liked, neglecting her collection of 19th century novels and changed her personality, all for a man who came up with excuses to get out of wedding planning. “Do you need testimonies from my mom and sister as well?” She knew her mother wouldn’t hesitate to defend him, even if they were mad at him. “I’ll check with Laura first but I want to ask you something.” “Sure, go ahead.”

“If it’s not too much trouble... I was wondering if you would... like to meet up?” This wasn’t something she was expecting. What would they even say to each other after all this time? Violette always wondered what she would do in the very unlikely case she’d run into Johnny, and after their divorce, she moved back home so there wouldn’t even be a chance of that ever happening. “I don’t even live in California, but sure, we could do that. If you want, you could come to New Orleans. I have an extra room in my apartment, and I don’t think anyone would bother you.” What in the fuck is she thinking?

What is she going to do, being in the same room with her ex husband? “Are you sure? I can get a hotel room or something. I don’t wanna put you out or anything.” “It’s no problem, really. I’ll be at work the whole day anyway.” Violette hadn’t lived with a man in years, and it would be quite an adjustment to live a man who saw her naked almost every day. “I’d like that. Thank you Violette.”

“No problem. Just let me know when you’re comin’ down.” “I will. Talk to you later?” She smiled as she unplugged her iron. “Talk to you later Johnny.” She hung up the phone and grabbed a hanger to hang up her clothes; she had an extra shirt in her car for when she got off. It was now fifteen minutes after and she wasn’t due until six, so she had enough time for a long nap.

Once in her room, Violette changed into a tank top and shorts and slipped under the covers. It was only as she drifted off that she remembered that she opened up her two-bedroom apartment to Johnny and that they’d be sharing the bathroom that was connected to her room.

@takemepedropascal

#johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x oc

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fireflake-art · 5 years

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HC: Mystery Gang

The gang's all here! (Except Scoob, but this is mostly a shipping piece.)

Inspired by all the content coming across my dash, I decided to whip up a late 50th birthday for these characters; Velma Dinkley, Fred Jones, Daphne Blake and Shaggy Rogers. The OG meddling kids.

I've always loved this crew. When I was younger, my favorite aunt and I would spend the entire day in our pajamas and binge Scooby Doo movies. My favorites as a kid were Ghoul School and Cyberchase. Those are some of my fave memories with that aunt, who I recently found out isn't as good of a person as I had thought. Scooby Doo might seem childish, but these guys were my childhood, y'know? They were important to me, and they still are.

(I've actually been thinking about making an Ao3 fic about em. Can you believe it)

Down to the headcanons

- They're a polyam quad! Bi Daphne, lesbian Velma (is somewhat into guys a tad bit, she just prefers lesbian), bi (and trans) Fred, and pan Shaggy.

- Velma's Hispanic! Specifically Latina. Shaggy's half-Mexican, half-Irish. While we're at it; Daph is Asian and Fred is an all American boyo.

- Daphne's Catholic and Shaggy and Velma are Jewish

- Fred has a distant relationship with his adoptive father, ever since his adopted mom left them when Fred was a little girl. Their bond was pretty decayed already when Fred came out in his young teen years, but it only got worse from then. Fred's dad doesn't abuse him physically, or verbally; he's present, sometimes, but not in an emotional sense.

- Fred has a lot of learning disabilities, including dyslexia, dyscalculia, and ADHD. This made it hard for him in class, which is how he met Daphne and Velma in early middle school. Daph and Vel were competing for the smartest of the grade; as an attempt to get the girls to be friendly to each other, they were both assigned to tutor Fred. Fred was, and still is, a well-meaning dumbass that drinks respect women juice, so both girls warmed up to him and his attempts to get them to be friends.

They were soon assigned to Shaggy, too, who was failing his classes because he was taking too many "sick" days, when in fact he was too anxiety-filled to get out of bed and face anyone.

The group quickly became besties and shared their full selves. Velma was there when Shaggy admitted to his parents about his anxiety, and they all went to choose a support dogo for him. (Scooby's legally Shaggy's emotional support dog, but Shaggy doesn't mind sharing.)

- As young teens, the group originally went by the Scooby Doo Detective Agency, before changing it to Mystery Inc/the Mystery Gang.

- Fred wears two shirts to better hide his breasts and help his dysphoria. His white shirt is actually a sweater, and under it is a button-up fancy blue long-sleeved shirt.

- Daphne is his hairdresser and fashion advisor, as she is for all of them. Daph always makes sure that whatever she suggests is within their comfort range.

- Shaggy has a panic disorder. Scooby Doo is his emotional support animal. Shaggy uses prescription marijuana to help with it.

- Daphne is always trying to prove herself (example; always running into danger and getting kidnapped) because her parents always compared her, the youngest, to her big sisters. Her sisters were successful, wealthy and independent women, while typical Daph had to keep getting saved by her partners. She loves feeling important, like she's the focus of everyone's attention. She tries to excel at everything, but is slowly starting to get better at not sprinting blindly into danger. (You can thank the Gang for that.)

- Daphne's mother is a celebrity supermodel by most days, acholic by night/some days. Her dad is a famous author. Neither of them approve of most of the things in Daphne's life; bisexuality, polyamory, mystery solving, Velma, Fred, Shaggy, Scooby... The list goes on.

- Daphne is an honorary member of the Hex Girls. She shows up sometimes when the triad needs another voice on stage. (Also, the Hex Girls are lesbians.)

- Velma's the mom friend.

- Velma Dinkley has always had a fixation for mysteries and figuring things out. She enjoys puzzles, crosswords, riddles, detective novels, serial killer documentaries, and horror movies. (She can always guess who the killer is.)

- She is fluent in Latin, Spanish, Mandarin and Morse Code.

- Velma's incredibly flexible, having taken martial arts and gymnastics as a child.

- This isn't headcanon, but I feel the need to mention it, as I don't think a lot of people know this is actually canon in multiple movies. Velma has a little sister named Madelyn, also known as "Doe Eyes Dinkley". Madelyn is a stage magician and is in clown college. She is an extroverted woman with a giant crush on Shaggy, who she continues to pine over. Both sisters are very overprotective of each other and mostly have a friendly relationship.

- The Gang eventually drop out of their shared community college to pursue mysteries, and to get away from their disapproving parents and overwhelming responsibilities. Velma does decide to take up online courses to get her degree.

(The Mystery Gang, including football jock Fred and track captain Shaggy, could have went to more prestigious schools, the girls because of their smarts and the boys on sport scholarships, but they were pressured to stay where their parents could see them.)

And that's my headcanons for them. I didn't mention some stuff because it's canon, but I'll recap real quick; Velma has coulrophobia (clown phobia) and aquaphobia (fear of water/sea), Scooby has an excitable, somewhat annoying nephew (Scrappy Doo), they're junior detectives/amateur sleuths, Fred's allergic to cats, they live in the Mystery Van, road trip for life, Shaggy's real name is Norville, Shag was briefly a vegetarian, Shaggy can do voice impressions, he was once a junior pilot, Daphne's a black belt in karate, Daph has a motorcycle, is an amateur musician, was a journalist a couple times, the Gang occasionally break up and go their seperate ways until a long-yearned for mystery pops up and serves as an excuse to get back together, those deals.

Peace! ✌️

Reference by @croxovergoddess;

Literally only 2 progress pics;

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

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Brother

The journey from Vodka Aunt to Wine Mom starts with Scottish coffee.

Or, Nicole totally thought this through, shut up Janet.

----.----

Nicole had believed -she had believed it would be… not easy, but easier than it had been, for Janet. She had been blindsided, after all, and completely out of her depth. Nicole, as she was now, had a good amount of practice under her belt- almost thirteen years of it. She shouldn’t be as clumsy about this as Jan had been, those first few weeks of Tim’s life.

In any other world, she would have been indifferent to the wounds, the verbal abuse, the disdain and blatant use of an innocent and manipulable mind. But here, now, she had been an aunt- a godmother, for almost thirteen years. Maybe it was Timmy’s kindness, absorbed into her bones via osmosis, maybe it was the maternal instinct Janet sometimes complained took over her life at irregular intervals to make her a better mother, maybe it was because he reminded her so much of her godson… but she just couldn’t stand it.

So she gathered her resources, called in a couple favors, took the child and disappeared into the night. That part was easy; Talia might be stronger, physically speaking, but Nicole’s mind could moon-walk circles around hers all day long.

But, what now? Back in Gotham as per her plan, where Talia couldn’t just waltz in and do as she wished without an angry bat breathing down her neck, but totally fucking lost as to what her next steps should be.

So she goes to Janet. If years of friendship aren’t enough to get her to help, she could always remind her of how it was thanks to Nicole’s contacts that she got Shiva as Tim’s self-defense teacher.

The bitch owes her.

----.----

Tim isn’t worried, exactly, when aunt Nicole power-walks into the tea room where mother and son are having breakfast -much more cozy than the dining room- and smiles tersely, asking if she could have a word with Janet.

He is, though, when she asks him to leave the room. Because never before has Nicole cared that Tim heard what she talked with mom, be it a complain about some mutual acquaintance or some confidential information from one of her cases.

He leaves, of course, because he respects her enough, but sends one not-actually-scared -but-close-enough look at his mother on the way out.

The second the door is closed, he can hear Nicole blurting something out, and the deafening sound of a teacup crashing into the floor. He rushes his steps, stopping by his room to grab his camera before going outside. He doesn’t want to be there for the fall out, if mom’s initial reaction was to lose her grip on her cup. Maybe he should call uncle Lex, get a little vacation outside the city (and line of fire).

He’s entertaining the thoughts of asking for a lift via Lex Corp special jet towards Paris vs Japan, when he sees the kid sitting under his favorite tree.

He approaches, curious and tentative, and the kid looks up to him when he gets within arm distance (doesn’t look surprised, like he knew Tim was there all along). The moment he sees him clearly, though, Tim freezes.

The shape of his eyes. The color of his hair. The ears, the contorn of the face, the scowl. His skin might be tanner, and his irises a different tint, but he looks at the kid for less than a second and knows, without a doubt, that he’s looking at Bruce Wayne’s son.

His heart might have stopped, but the mind is a wonderful thing that never stops working, and the next order of business is figuring out who the mother is. He remembers Nicole’s tight face, her venomous green eyes almost equal to this kid’s, and… Yeah, okay, so this is also Talia Al Ghul’s spawn. What the hell was Bruce thinking? Does Dick know? Does Bruce know?

-Stop looking at me like a buffon, or I’ll have your eyes removed -speaks up the kid, and Tim’s mind reminds him that, yeah, he isn’t looking at a picture, but a real, breathing human being. A six-or-seven year old being, despite his speech.

Manners kicking to the forefront of his head, he crouches down in front of the kid, camera dangling from his neck, all but forgotten by its owner for maybe the first time ever.

-Hey there. My name is Timothy Drake -he smiles, hand offered with kindness, but eyes sharp as he keeps on inspecting the face in front of his. That, and his name, seems to immediately change the kid’s opinion of him, because his eyes widen and he’s quick to return the greeting.

Aunt Nicole must have said something to him about Tim and his special position as Janet Drake’s son, because when the kid shakes his hand (calloused, with more than one scar, probably more used at handling a weapon than Tim is going to be at the end of his life), he’s being almost comically careful about it, as if he’s unsure about how much to squeeze or shake without hurting him. Nicole probably stressed into him about Tim being delicate and how he should handle him with care, which, bullshit, he’s not a baby anymore, not like this kid.

-I see. I’ve heard about you a lot from Aunt during my travels here. My name is Ibn al Xu’ffasch.

Tim blinks twice, smile firmly in place, hand holding lightly into the kid’s. There’s something ridiculous about Bruce’s kid literally being called ‘Son of the bat’.

-...my other name is Damian, Damian Al Ghul.

-I see. Which one do you prefer?

This seems to baffle the kid, though he recovers quickly. Has anyone ever asked him for his preference on something as personal as his name?- You may address me as Damian.

-Okay then, Damian. I was going to go around the property for a walk, take some picture of animals. Why don’t you come with me? You can also tell me a little about yourself. With Nicole as your Aunt, we are sure to meet often.

----.----

-So you just… took the kid and ran.

-No, I had a well thought plan. And I didn’t ran. That’s undignified.

-Really, now.

-I couldn’t just leave him, Jan. He’s six.

-He’s a genetically engineered baby trained since birth by your psychotic sister in how to be a perfect killing machine. Excuse me if I think he can handle himself. But whatever, what’s done is done. What are you going to do now?

-I… I kinda hoped you’d tell me.

-...I’ll tell the butler to prepare refreshments. This is going to be a long talk.

-Vodka?

-It’s nine in the morning, you unclassy fool. We are having Scottish coffee. Besides, you acquired a child, you can’t be the vodka aunt any longer. If anything, be the wine mom.

-No, I’m not adopting this kid. Rip to Bruce, but I’m not like him.

-Well, I’m not doing it for you either.

-I’m not asking that! I plan on giving him to his dad to look after, but he’s too…

-Murderous?

-...yeah, that. I’m going to try to ease him into normal society as much as I can before calling Wayne, to prevent a full blown out culture shock.

-This is Gotham, dear. You want normal society, go to Metropolis. But sure, I’ll help you with this. You might have to move into the Manor for a few weeks, though. Also, you are lucky Tim is on break right now, his innate kindness might help in this. But if your demonic nephew touches a single hair in Tim’s head, I’m throwing him to the sharks.

-Are you talking about reporters, the League of Assassins, or actual sharks?

-Yes.

----.----

Tim snaps a quick pic when the kid isn’t looking, because this is precious.

Damian had been a proud little prick at first, refusing to show the interest shining in his eyes towards the multiple animals Tim introduced him to. But by the time they left behind the horse (the one Lex gave him on his tenth birthday), birds and fishes on the property’s pond, and moved into Tim’s pets, he had left his facade behind and did his best to pet every animal at the same time. He couldn’t, of course, didn’t have enough hands for all two cats, the dog and the bunny, but by god he tried.

Sel, the female cat, had taken residence on the kid’s shoulders, lounging there like an Empress, judging them all from above (or as above as she could be, perched on such a small kid that was sitting down to boot). Her partner in crime and life, Alley, rubbed his head under Tim’s chin, comfortable in his human’s arms.

Then, Max, his Golden Retriever dog. He was a sweetheart, and had charmed Damian in less than a minute, greeting him with enthusiastic licks at his hands and a furiously quick tail moving side to side. Damian had been blindsided by the utter cuteness of the dog immediately falling in love with him, and had responded in kind, dedicating almost half an hour to dote on him alone.

Now, almost two hours after meeting the kid, Tim couldn’t help but snap another picture of Damian, sitting on the ground in front of Tim, one hand petting Max who had laid by his side, the other one carefully stroking Butter the Bunny’s head while he rests on his lap. Sel occasionally nudges her head against his cheek to demand for attention, that he gladly provides, and everything seems out of a Disney movie.

He knows this kid is dangerous. Because he is Nicole’s relative, because his eyes are always scanning their surroundings for threats, because his hand is the hand of a warrior.

But he looks up at Tim when Sel gives a tiny lick to his check, looking as if he’d been blessed by the Kitten Gods and needs guidance on the appropriate response, and Tim thinks he could overlook the danger. God knows everyone is afraid of Mom, and that doesn’t stop Tim from kissing her cheek and hugging her at least once per day.

This kid deserves love, too, and he always wanted a sibling.

#janet drake #Janet drake au #Janet Drake is a scary lady #Nicole Al Ghul (oc)#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #My writing #No edit people #I'm bored and procastinating

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msjr0119 · 4 years

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One Temptation

Part 8

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags-if you want to be removed let me know 😊: @pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @drxkewalker @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @kozabaji @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @jared2612 @princess-geek @desiree---1986 @indiacater

Finally started this series back up- sorry for the hiatus! To refresh your memories click the link for Part 7. This part is set a few days after the last part ended- showing POV’s from the main characters; Drake, Riley, Liam and Leo. Part 9 will lead on straight from the ending of part 7.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of rape, affair?

*****

Drake walked through the ranch, hoping that Riley had just gone for a stroll- waking up without her this morning made him think back to all that happened in New York as well as their few days in Texas. The thought that had constantly kept crossing her mind was if she was having second thoughts about their relationship. On the road trip down to Texas, she showed a genuine smile- excitement to have a break from New York City and all the drama that had occurred. As the days went by she suddenly became distant with him, every time he asked her what the matter was- she would just respond with the one word answer ‘nothing’.

Returning to the ranch, the coffee aroma flooded the kitchen- he saw his mom and aunt look at him with the same expression- disappointment.

“What?” He questioned the two of them, feeling unwelcome for the first time since he had returned.

“You can do better than her Drake. She left this morning.” Not really comprehending what his mother had just said, he wondered what had happened whilst he hadn’t been around. On occasions he would check the animals, do chores around the ranch, get food in from the shop- leaving Riley to bond with his family. Possibly her future family, in his mind.

“Left? What do you mean?”

“She’s gone back to New York. You obviously don’t mean a lot to her. Or she would have said goodbye.” Leona just shook her head, excusing herself from the situation- knowing that her nephew was about to blow his top.

“Why didn’t you fucking stop her? I’m going.”

“Drake! Stay here. You don’t need her. There’s other women, or should I say another woman.”

“I do need her, and she needs me. I love her. Goodbye mom.”

******

Riley returned to New York, not knowing what her plan was- all she knew was that she needed a new job, that she needed to avoid her friends for a while. The Walkers unknowingly to Drake made her feel unwelcome at every given opportunity.

Are you using my son for his money? Sluts like you will never be loyal partners.

My nephew can do so much better than a stripper. You was probably just lust for him, nothing more.

Thinking about the word slut as Bianca labelled her, made her think about the day after the rape. Did she deserve all that had happened to her?

The day after waking up in Liam’s penthouse, Riley kept watching the video- grimacing every time. The tears wouldn’t stop forming. Assuming Liam didn’t use protection, she knew she had to pay a visit to the hospital or the local clinic but also to the police station. At first she didn’t want to go and report the crime, it was still trying to sink in what had happened- hence why she put herself through the torture of rewatching it.

Walking to the clinic, she wished she had the guts to tell her friends and Drake what had happened. Feeling ashamed, she believed that they would judge her. Not listen to her. Possibly blame her. Would they ask personal questions? Would they ask why she couldn’t stop him, prevent it from happening? Drake. What would he think? Their ‘relationship’ was complicated to say the least. Deep down, Riley was utterly in love with him but wouldn’t admit that anyone- only her drunk drugged mind spoke the truth to her abuser.

Giving her name to the reception, she turned around to sit down- her jaw was agape seeing the ghost from her past gulp at her as they locked eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m going for a swim, what the fuck do you think I’m doing in a clinic you bimbo?”

“You’ve not changed one bit have you Riley? Still the sarcastic, stubborn little bitch. Did you enjoy your night the other night BELLE?”

“Go away Madeleine, I assume you’re here because you can’t keep your legs closed for more than a second.”

“I’m not a slut, who has a ‘sleepover’ at my house then mentions the word rape infront of my daughter.”

“He raped me Madeleine. I didn’t realise that Alice was there when that word slipped out....I just want to thank you, for everything that you did to me. See you around.” Leaving the clinic, she headed to the police station- hoping that they would believe her.

“I’d like to report an incident. My ex boyfriend raped me and he and my boss drugged me.” The police officer led her into the room, after the interview in the back of her mind she believed that it would be a waste of time. Due to the fact that she wasn’t a reliable witness because of the affect due to the drugs and alcohol- she held on to the hope of the video. Hoping that it would be enough evidence.

“We will arrest Mr Rhys and bring him in for questioning. You was very brave reporting this type of incident, many people are too afraid to do this.”

“Could you wait? His company has a charity event- could you wait until after that? Or do it during that?” The police officer looked at her confused not knowing the reasoning behind the unusual request.

“This could delay court proceedings, you do understand that Miss Brooks?”

“If you arrest him now, he may suspect it. If you do it unexpectedly- he won’t have time to come up with excuses.”

“Very well, but if this backfires it will be your fault. If you change your mind let us know. We will arrest your boss now though.”

If it wasn’t Liam trying to split them up, or Madeline- there was now Drakes family. Whenever Drake walked back into the room, the two women would act differently- as if they were happy that Riley was there.

Walking the streets of New York, she entered every bar asking if there were any vacancies. With no luck, she felt like giving in and just moving out of New York completely.

*****

Over the last few days Leo had become like a sloth, not having the motivation to do anything. Feeling guilty that he had allowed his brother to hurt his friend yet again.

“Why did you do it?” Leo held Liam against the wall, out of the way of prying eyes. At this moment in time, he wanted to kill his brother or at least inflict a slight bit on pain on to him. No pain would be as much as the pain he had put Riley through the years.

“I love her Leo. I fucked up losing her.” Attempting to remove his brother’s hand from his neck, Liam failed as Leo’s grip became tighter every second that went by.

“You don’t fucking rape someone you love!”

“You don’t shag someone who’s your friend. Don’t lie to me, you have feelings towards her too.” Leo released his tight grip knowing what he was referring to. His fling with Riley in Florida.

“It was just sex! If I did have feelings for her, don’t you think that I’d have brought her back. Made us an official couple. Hell, if I was lucky enough to call her my girlfriend I wouldn’t have let her go.”

“So you do like her more than a friend. Why am I surrounded by betrayers? Who’s next? Maxwell? Riley is mine. No one else’s.”

“Yes I do love her. Possibly more than a friend. Happy now? But she doesn’t love me back that way. She loves Drake. Let her be happy- she isn’t yours!”

“And this is why you’re defending her. Acting like the knight in shining armour- hoping that she would fall for you. What would you do? Dump Olivia? I’m glad I raped her, money buys you everything. I’ll get her back.”

“You bastard!”

Beating his brother to a pulp that day of the charity event, Leo felt guilty not informing Riley about the truth. Knowing she would berate him for stooping so low.

“Leo... who’s blood is that on your hands?” Fuck. Leo looked at Riley as Drake held her protectively on the bed. Gulping, he knew he probably shouldn’t have reacted the way he did. Realising that they all need to just ignore Liam’s existence instead.

“It’s my blood. I was so annoyed with Liam- that I punched the wall. Please don’t ever talk to him again. You have all of us. He will pay for what he’s done. I hope you two are very happy together- you deserve it Ri.” Riley looked at him, jumping out of bed- she hugged Leo. Cupping his cheeks, her eyes searched his hoping for some truth and answers.

“You’d tell me if you’d hurt him? Right?” Leo gulped as he nodded, knowing that she possibly had some inkling as to how he had received his injuries.

“He won’t hurt you again. Stay with Drake, he’s a good guy.

*****

Liam had decided to work from home ever since the disastrous charity ball. Losing trust from his clients, this time at home made him think long and hard about his actions. I didn’t want to rape her. I love her.

“You love who daddy?” Not realising that he said those words out loud, he couldn’t lie to his daughter. Even at such a young age, the girls mind was as bright as a button.

“Daddy loves Belle.”

“Is she going to be my new mommy? She was angry with you the other day. I don’t think she loves you.” Kneeling down, he held his daughters hand as he spoke the next words.

“Belle used to love daddy. Before you was born, daddy and Belle lived together.” Thinking back to the times that they shared, they was happy- like love struck teenagers. If it wasn’t for Alice’s existence, he would go back in time if he could. Save his relationship.

“You need to say sorry daddy. That’s what Miss Parkins says at school. She said if you upset someone, you say sorry. See you later.” Taking in Alice’s words, he knew she was right. But he would never admit to anyone that he was in the wrong. That he had gone too far. There was a knock at the door, Liam ran his fingers through his hair as he stood up to answer.

“Come in Gordon, thank you for coming.” The lawyer sat down, sighing at Liam.

“So you’re on bail. I need you to be truthful. Did you rape Riley? And did you harm Leo before you was arrested?”

“You bastard!” Liam didn't know how Leo threw the first punch, all he remembered was feeling that pain suddenly slamming into his jaw. It happened so quick. Blood pooled in and around his mouth as Leo backed off. They was only apart for a brief moment - possibly to catch their breaths before lurching back towards each other, both sets of baby blues narrowed - both determined to not surrender. Leo has dodged a few fists that Liam threw towards him- until he aimed for his ribs. Falling to the floor, Liam hovered over his brother- pining him to the floor with no escape route.

"Is that all you’ve got big bro? Or can we call it a draw? End it now?” Leo was about to raise his knees to knock Liam off him, as he was feeling like he was being suffocated.

“Liam Rhys I am arresting you on suspicion of rape. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence".

Everyone at the event, gasped. The echo filled the room, as did a crowd around the puddles of the brothers blood on the floor. Bastien shook his head, not knowing what to do. Not knowing if the press had managed to catch wind of what was happening.

“Leo! Why would you call them? I’m innocent!” Liam shouted as the police dragged him away.

“I didn’t! Maybe the woman you hurt did that! Rot in hell Liam!” Leo held his ribs, the relief that Liam was about to get some comeuppance was over riding the pain that was lingering.

“Would it sound bad if I admitted to both? You know I love Riley, you have been our families lawyer all my life. I went the wrong way about it all. When she returned, I called off my engagement to Madeleine- all of my feelings for Riley resurfaced. I lost her Gordon.”

“We will work this out Liam. But you need to admit to Riley what you did and apologise. She may drop the charges if you’re truthful with her. Possibly try and rebuild the relationship with your brother. I’ll see you in court. Remember, the truth.”

*****

Drake arrived back in New York, hoping that Riley was going to be in his apartment that he shared with Max - hoping that she was going to jump out from somewhere and shout ‘surprise’. Possibly jump into his arms. Walking through the door, Maxwell just shook his head, sorrow in his eyes. Pulling Drake in for a hug, they both decided to look for her.

*****

It was late at night, Riley was exhausted walking the streets. She believed that her luck was in when she stumbled across a dive bar which was advertising for bar staff. Walking in the stern looking man at the bar, asked her if she wanted a drink.

“I’m here about the job. I’ve worked in a str- bar.” The man looked up and down her body, then focused his eyes on the blonde stood behind her. The top she was wearing flaunted her assets, and the man immediately offered her the job over Riley. Ordering a drink, she gulped it in one. Leaving the bar, she felt defeated- the heavens had opened up and she was now drenched. Continuing to walk down the street, her phone rang constantly. Maxwell. Her heart wanted to answer to answer it immediately, but her stubborn mind refused to acknowledge the importance of the call. Ignoring it, as she pressed reject the phone slipped out of her hand and smashed on the concrete. For fuck sake. Sitting in a puddle, the tears from her eyes were uncontrollably flowing matching the weather- not giving a damn that her clothes were now soaked to the rafters, she believed that karma was hitting her right in the face - not expecting any good luck to appear anytime soon.

“Hey, don’t cry. What’s up?” Looking up at the woman, Riley softly smiled as the woman helped her stand. Wiping her tears and her clothes, she felt like an idiot.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“I just need a bed, a job. Is that too much to ask? I’ll do anything. I’m desperate.”

“Well I have vacancies. I own this club.” Looking towards the club entrance, Riley sighed. Great another strip club.

“Can you dance?” I can, it doesn’t mean that I want to though.

“I used to work at Wildcats. I didn’t dance though.”

“The offer is there if you want it. I also have a spare room in my apartment. Look after yourself honey.” Riley stared at the building, not knowing how long for until a decision was made. “Wait!” The woman turned around, smiling at her.

“I’m a fast learner. I’m labelled a slut anyway. I only have $200 to my name.” Laughing at Riley, Gill hated it when people described dancers as sluts- it was a common nickname. But not in her club, the local punters knew that if they took advantage that Gill would possibly place their bodies in a body bag.

“My names Gill. What’s your name?”

“Riley.”

“Come on Riley, come inside before you catch pneumonia.”

*****

Drake pressed the button in the elevator, taking him up to the highest floor. Walking towards the desk, the receptionist looked Drake up and down- wondering who he was and what his intentions were.

“I’m here to see Mr Rhys. Before you ask, no- I haven’t got an appointment.”

“Name?”

“Just tell him his worse nightmare is paying him a visit..” panic was written across the woman’s face, leaning closer towards her desk- her hand hovered over the security button. “Just tell him, it’s Drake.”

Hello Mr Rhys, you have a visitor. His name is Drake.

Hanging up, she explained that Liam would be with them momentarily. Sitting down on the leather chair, Drake was unsure how Liam would react to seeing him- would he throw him out? Would he play mind games?

“Drake. It’s nice to see you.” Not. “Follow me into my office.” Drake followed his instructions, as the two men walked into the room. Liam poured them both a drink, however Drake politely rejected. Not knowing if Liam could have potentially added poison to it as revenge.

“What can I do for you? I never thought I’d see the day that you’d pay me a visit voluntarily.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here. I despise you. Have you seen or heard from Riley?”

“No. Why would I hear from her? She wanted to send me to prison for raping her.” Hearing that word, Drake grit his teeth- knowing that Liam was still in denial with his past actions.

“Well you did do that. Listen, you probably know her better than any of us. We need your help. She ran away, she left me in Texas.” Liam laughed in Drakes face, just picturing Riley riding off into the sunset wearing a cowboy hat.

“What did you do?” He asked Drake, assuming he was the reasoning behind her disappearance- from past experience he should know how her mind ticked. She did the same when he hurt her.

“I did nothing, my mom and aunt Leona spoke to her. Then she went cold towards me, and was gone. Do you know anywhere that she could have gone?” Liam now knew the reasoning behind her departure- he was the reason why. Instead of acting like a dick, he felt empathy towards everyone who was looking for her- guilt for his past actions.

“Bianca, this is Liam Rhys- a friend of Drakes.” Bianca recognised the name immediately- clearing her throat, she provided a fake posh accent.

“Hello, Sir. How may I help?”

“Has Drake arrived in Texas yet? His flatmate was just wondering but he’s broken his phone.”

“No not yet. I assume he should be here shortly. I’ll get him to ring you once he arrives.”

“Okay, thank you Mrs Walker. I hope the prostitute he is in a relationship with doesn’t ruin your families reputation. Have a good day.”

“I don’t know where she is Drake. I’m sorry I can’t help you. I’m sorry for everything.” Fuck what have I done? What if she’s gone for good? What if she’s in danger? I’ll have blood on my hands. I knew I shouldn’t have interfered, twisting the truth to Bianca.

“Cut with the shit Liam. You are not sorry for anything that you’ve done. Don’t worry, we will find her, and when we do I hope she has some answers. Liam, stay away from us all.”

“Drake... I’ll get a private detective to search for her. I’ll come to your apartment tomorrow with any updates.” Drake just wanted to punch him for his past actions, however if this was the only way they could find her he would be civil for now.

“Can I trust you?”

“Yes. I swear on Alice’s life. We all love Riley. If she’s in trouble, she will need you. I now understand that I’ve lost her and that she loves you. I’m sorry Drake.” Placing his hand out towards Drake, he wasn’t sure if Liam was being sincere. Not being able to trust him just yet, he just turned around and left the building.

*****

The day after, Drake and Maxwell began pacing the room- both frustrated that they hadn’t found Riley. Both frustrated that her phone kept going immediately to voicemail every time they attempted to ring her.

“Will you both just sit down. You’re both going to injure yourselves somehow.” Leo said, watching the two of them. There was a knock at the door- the three of them all ran towards the door, hoping that it was Riley. Drake knew if it wasn’t Riley it would be Liam, as he promised. Opening the door, he pushed Leo away- not knowing how he would react, not wanting another fight to break out. He understood Leo’s anger, but at this moment in time they all needed to hold the anger back.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Leo questioned Drake and Maxwell as Liam walked through the door.

“I come in peace.” Liam said sarcastically, holding his hands up in the air.

“Get the fuck out of here before I kill you!”

“Leo, leave him. Have you got any news Liam?” Leo looked at Drake confused, wondering if he had forgotten what Liam had done to the woman that Drake loved.

“She’s working at another strip club. Downtown. The Phoenix.” Liam sighed at he waited for the men to respond. Drake grabbed his coat, whilst searching the clubs details on google.

“I swear to god if you’re lying Liam, you won’t need to worry about Leo killing you....”

“I’m not Drake. The limo is outside. Bastien will take us all.”

*****

There was silence in the limo on route to the club, Maxwell tried to break the silence with stupid jokes until he realised that no one was interested. Walking into the club, they was greeted by Gill who assisted them to a booth- followed by a tray of shots.

“If you need anything else gentlemen, the girls will be walking around - just ask them for anything that you may require. You’re just in time for the main event. Enjoy.” The lights dimmed, and music began to play. Men, who they assumed were regular punters gathered around the stage- all retrieving their wallets out of their pockets. As the woman strut down the stage, she gripped onto the cold steel pole, climbing up on the pole- she immediately spun around gracefully. Sliding down and eventually coming off the pole, she walked closer to the older men- removing her dress, she stood in front of them wearing just her lacy underwear- her breasts in full view, as well as her high heels. Teasing them, she provided sexual movements as they threw money towards her.

“Erm, Drake?” Leo narrowed his eyes realising who it was. They all looked towards the stage- Seeing their friend degrade herself. Noticing one man try to unclip her bra, Drake stood up abruptly. Pushing through the crowd, he stood on stage and carried her over his shoulder. Liam noticed Gill run over, distracting the woman with money as bribery- he explained why Drake did what he did, causing a riot between the punters. Gill refused to take his money and suggested to take Riley out into the back room.

Drake put her down, surrounded by men ‘booing’- potentially about to cause a fist fight with him for ruining the entertainment. Before that could happen Liam grabbed Riley’s hand and dragged her into the back room, with the others following. Folding her arms, they all surrounded her scowling at her- covering her body up, she was unsure as to why she was doing this. All of them have seen me like this before, three of them have slept with me. Fuck I am a slut. Why do they look so pissed? Two of them have broken my heart, the other two are just my friends.

“What?” She snapped at them all, after coming out of her thoughts- leaving the lingering questions roam through her mind.

“Care to explain what’s going off?” Leo asked in a stern tone of voice, knowing that Drake was in a state of shock once his adrenaline rush had deteriorated.

“Well I’m a slut. So may as well act like one.” Shaking his head, Drake wondered why she was talking about herself in such a manner- looking at the other men he could read that they was probably wondering the same.

“Why did you leave me in Texas?”

“It was too hard to say goodbye, your family hate me. They said I was using you for your money; they called me a slut, they said I was a stripper- which at the time I wasn’t, I’m not good enough for you. So I made their words become a reality.” Empathising the word slut, until the morning that she left Texas she was sure that they had a future together.

“Riley, you have three men stood in front of you who love you. Quit, and make at least one of us happy.” They all faced Liam as he said this, only Leo and Liam knew who the third man was. Leo. Hoping that she assumed the third man was Maxwell, Leo needed to change the subject- change his sheepish expression that was brewing into something that wouldn’t expose his secret.

“I think, Riley and Drake need to talk alone. Don’t you think Liam and Max?” Riley’s eyes pleaded with Leo for them not to leave- she would rather have four men berate her than be alone with the man who she abandoned without saying a word to prior to leaving.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She whimpered, as she made a move towards the door Drake put his hand on to her bare skin.

“Oh no. You are not running away from me again. I need answers. I love you, why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“I was just going to get dressed Drake. I love you too.”

“Then come back with me. Please.”

“I can’t Drake. Your mom and aunt.. they... they told me to leave you and to never see you again. Somebody rung them and told them that you was dating a prostitute. They offered me $10k to leave that morning I left but I didn’t accept it.” Ten grand? They haven’t even got that type of money. Drake knew exactly who had that type of money, someone who wanted Riley all to himself. Was all of his ‘sincere’ words that he mentioned fake? Did Liam actually pay his family off as he threatened to do all those months ago. “They said that I wasn’t good enough for you, and that you would eventually forget me, forget about New York and return to Texas. Before I left they introduced me to someone. I’m a slut, I’m Madeleine. You’re Liam. Go back to Texas Drake, go back to your fiancée.”

#trr #trr fanfic #trr au one temptation #drake x mc #drake x riley #liam x mc #liam x riley #leo x mc #leo x riley #drake walker #liam rhys #leo rhys #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont #trr bianca walker #trr leona

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