#Then again duel links voices always sound a little off to me so that might be it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merryfortune · 4 years

Text

Alexithymia

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Ship: Ryoken/Spectre

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,799

Tags: Canon Compliant, Knights of Hanoi as Found Family, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Abandonment Issues, Attachment Disorders, Selective Mutism

Synopsis: Ryoken becomes worried for Spectre when his behaviour deviates, and even regresses, after the defeat of Bohman.

Ryoken was relieved to log out from the Link VRAINS after Playmaker had won against Bohman. He had been relieved to simply have been revived, standing in the plaza with Spectre by his side, smiling as people’s very souls were restored to them after being taken for the Neuron Link but being able to breathe air – even heavily recycled, air conditioned air – of the office filled him with relief and gratitude.

Ryoken got up from his seat and Spectre finally opened his eyes. Ryoken wanted to pounce on him with a hug as soon as he did that, but Spectre was fussy, always had been and Ryoken thought he always would be. So, he gave Spectre a moment and then he looked towards Ryoken. There was an indescribable emotion on the blue surface of his iris; his lips twitched.

“We did it.” Ryoken said. “We lived. The vast majority of the Ignis have perished; the Light Ignis’s faction is a threat no more. We did it.”

“Yes, congratulations.” Spectre’s voice sounded indescribable.

Ryoken beamed. “I’m so happy right now, thank you, for everything, all your efforts.”

He couldn’t contain himself. Yes, the issue of the Dark Ignis remained but for now, now was a time of victory and celebration, no matter how small or what ills were to follow. Ryoken sat down next to Spectre and hugged him. Spectre stiffened as the touch, as Ryoken’s arms came around him and held him. Ryoken sighed. Spectre flinched.

“Please, sir, stop…” Spectre murmured.

Ryoken receded slightly and he gazed up at Spectre who looked most uncomfortable, even frightened, by his embrace.

“Are you alright…?” Ryoken asked and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“It hurts.” Spectre admitted in a tiny voice. “It hurts when you do that.”

He wanted to get away so Ryoken let him. Ryoken straightened up and the atmosphere turned awkward. Ryoken hadn’t thought that he would be squeezing Spectre so hard that it would hurt, and it wounded him that he had yet neither said a word. There was silence save for the whirring of the air conditioner on the far wall. Spectre pointedly looked the other way, but he could feel when Ryoken stole looks at him.

“Are you okay?” Ryoken asked again.

Spectre attempted to reply but his words came out a stutter, confused and agitated until he finally gave up and changed the subject. “You said Playmaker defeated Bohman but what of you? What happened after I-” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“If you can stomach it, I’m sure the Lieutenants may have recordings of the duels that took place after your loss.” Ryoken said.

“I would rather hear it from you first.” Spectre replied with a terse exhale.

“Of course, as you wish.”

Ryoken then went on to explain the events which followed after Spectre’s loss. Some of it made him laugh, some of it harrowed him, but there was an oddness to his reactions, a certain detached callousness, which Ryoken couldn’t deny despite how much he wanted to. He wasn’t certain but he could tell. Something about Spectre was off but he couldn’t confirm it until later. When their conversation finished up, they were both famished, and the Lieutenants had returned so they had a meal together.

The fridge had been stocked up with the best and even though the kitchen was tiny, there was an atmosphere of celebration. Aso, Kyoko, and Genome: they all agreed that with the vast majority of the Ignis terminated, it was time to take the victory no matter how meagre. Spectre merely sat and watched. It was eerie and yet, the Lieutenants hardly seemed to notice but its not like Spectre was a big personality. He was a small one. A wisp of the thing and right now, he just wanted to sit at the dining table chair and watch with a rather blank expression.

Ryoken kept reminding himself to keep glancing towards him, keep checking on him but he couldn’t bring himself to ask for Spectre’s opinion on things. He was reasonably certain that even if he were to ask, then he would merely be stalled out or lied to. He could forgive Spectre either way for that, those were two cores of his character, after all, but Ryoken still cared for him very deeply.

“Thank you.” Spectre said when Kyoko put a plate of food in front him. He didn’t smile.

“Your welcome.” Kyoko replied but she glanced at Ryoken, she had noticed as well.

No one in this so-called household was a gourmet chef but if there was anyone who came close, it would have been Spectre. He cared deeply about his produce and how it was treated, he wanted it to be certain that they were treated with care and respect, so he typically produced the best meals. Not for this luncheon, at least.

Everyone sat at the table and thanked each other for the meal, for surviving, and so forth. The Lieutenants ate ravenously and at the other end, of both the table and the spectrum, Spectre barely ate with Ryoken truly in between. Spectre finished first and then retired to his bed on the yacht; no one stopped him. So, no one did the dishes, either, since after eating, everyone wanted to sleep.

Ryoken left his plate and crockery on the sink then slunk off. He and Spectre shared a twin room and he was quiet as he entered it. There wasn’t much space physically between the two beds since it was kind of cramped on the yacht, but it felt a lot bigger as Ryoken’s eyes settled on how defensive Spectre seemed, lying on his side with his back to the door. Ryoken’s anxieties just worsened.

But it was nothing compared to when he managed to confirm and get a better grapple on what Spectre was feeling at present. Or if he was even feeling anything at all.

The following day, they all woke up at weird times, feeling groggy and bad so Ryoken, against everyone’s wishes, they wanted to lie low and eat some more, and maybe do the dishes if they were feeling really daring but he convinced them otherwise. He returned the yacht to the marina and at dusk, he dragged everyone off the yacht and sent them on their ways. To do anything for an hour and then they would be back.

Ryoken was hoping that even Spectre would go off and do his own thing but very sullenly, he insisted that he would prefer to shadow Ryoken, so he did. So, Ryoken donned the choice of doing something that he thought Spectre would like, even for a little while and he figured there was no choice more obvious than walking along the pier, they had planter boxes and sculptures and similar. He thought surely that would perk Spectre up, even a little, but he was wrong. Really wrong.

Spectre followed at a few paces and Ryoken couldn’t bring himself to grab Spectre’s hand and all but make it a date. But Ryoken was afraid that he might hurt Spectre again, like when he had hugged him yesterday. He stood in front of one planter box and looked out to the water which shone with the oncoming hues of dusk. He pointed at the flowers. He thought they were pretty, all their tiny buds and the wiry stems of a grey-green.

“Hey, Spectre, can you tell me any fun facts about this variety?” he asked. He thought that they were peonies, but he wasn’t sure.

Spectre caught up and he instead mumbled, “I don’t like the crowd here.”

Ryoken glanced around. There were less people here than he thought; maybe they were all crammed inside the bars and restaurants along the pier. But he nodded. He knew that Spectre had never been overly fond of public places and big crowds and all their social batteries were running on empty. It was understandable; it was also excusable.

“Okay,” Ryoken replied, a little downhearted and rejected, “let’s go home.”

“Thank you, sir.” Spectre sounded a little bit happier.

Ryoken had wanted to linger longer along the pier but if Spectre wanted to go home, then they would both go home. They walked back and again, Spectre remained a few steps behind Ryoken. Normally, he didn’t mind, but it felt more indicative of something else given the events of yesterday.

At dinner, Spectre hardly ate again and was the first to retire to bed, Ryoken gave him the space he clearly wanted by washing the dishes but the repetitiveness of cleaning up today and yesterday’s meals, gave him too much time to be inside his head worrying about Spectre. After finishing up, wiping down his hands, Ryoken retired to his and Spectre’s room. He saw that Spectre was sleeping on his side again. It was still unusual, he tended to prefer to sleep on his back and it made Ryoken wonder, was he actually asleep?

So, he prompted him, “Spectre?”

“Yes, sir?” he replied tiredly.

“Are you sure you ate enough today?” Ryoken asked. “There’s snacks in the pantry if you want them.”

“I’m quite right, thank you for your concern.” He sounded scripted.

“Why is that?” Ryoken asked and he already feared the truth, should he elicit it at all.

“It’s simple.” Spectre scoffed. “Losers don’t eat.”

There it was. Ryoken was surprised that Spectre had said that at all, but he was glad to be told the truth, no matter how terribly electrifying, like a live wire come loose.

Ryoken settled on the bed. He wondered if now and here the right time for those sorts of conversations. He stole another look at Spectre. It was obvious he just needed time to lick his wounds and have some space. Ryoken closed his eyes and held the sheet up right, lying the other way to Spectre.

Dealing with him had been easier when he was a child. When he didn’t know all their tricks. When he had come to the mansion, and when the Lieutenants had actually managed to speak with one of the good doctor’s darling test subjects, it became increasingly obvious that there was something wrong with this child’s psyche. And that aberration had already been there long before he had been their test subject in the Hanoi Project.

Ryoken recalled that he would sometimes be schooled by the assistants in order to coach Spectre, engage him in therapy play and the like. Ryoken helped to teach Spectre his own emotions and the like, playing in very staged games and the like but at least in the moment, Spectre had never noticed because he had never really played with another child before. Eventually, once he had gotten good at it, they started him on identifying emotions and the like in other people and for better or worse, he had gotten very good at that as he had a naturally calculative mind.

But they weren’t children anymore and for better or worse, though he would deny it, possibly, Spectre had agency and, no doubt in his mind, Ryoken was both therapy and better than therapy. He would never own up to what he was feeling until he had repressed it and gotten better at masking and mirroring – like he had done in the Link VRAINS, Ryoken realised now. He knew there had been something a little too good about how Spectre had smiled there, in a cascade of glowing, golden specks. He had smiled a little too wide. He just wanted to be praised for going through the motions, following Ryoken’s sincere and earnest grin. So happy to be alive.

A few weeks passed like this. A sort of in-between where the pallor of awkwardness had receded slightly so Ryoken tested his waters again. It occurred to him that maybe the Earth Ignis, who was now wholly and utterly gone, had been holding up more of Spectre’s emotions than either of them had ever realised. Of course, there were other possibilities too. Maybe it was just a depressive slump, maybe it was something else with its roots in Spectre’s childhood and infancy, but either way, they to get back into the network and continue their mission. The Dark Ignis was still at large and therefore, still posed a threat and had to be eradicated. Yusaku was the only thing that stood between them and the final bout of their goal.

However, more mundanely, Ryoken hoped that exposing Spectre to people he knew, even if he wasn’t particularly close to them or even liked them, might inspire a change in him. Ryoken had been observing Spectre and he had taken to routine again, that was good. Getting up early, going to bed late, and doing all the errands and the like in between but he hadn’t absorbed back into his hobbies or the like which was worrying.

At least he came along with Ryoken on that particular mission. Ryoken wouldn’t have forced him if he said no as it wasn’t his thing at the best of times and in consolidation, Ryoken didn’t drag it out either. He said his hellos, he asked about the Ignis, he did his best to ignore Takeru who was hanging out at Café Nagi as well.

But it was just him who had said his hellos and said his bit. He had been hoping that Spectre would say something – anything, even just a hello – but alas. He just stood behind him at a few paces with a grumpy, scrunched up sort of expression.

They returned to the yacht not long after. Ryoken picked up two iced teas for them elsewhere, one for himself and one for Spectre, because Spectre wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, and especially not from Café Nagi, and whilst he didn’t really want it, he appreciated it. But both the one-use plastic drinks ended up on the table and they retired to their room together.

They sat on the edge of their bed; their feet almost meeting in the middle, but Spectre had angled himself away from Ryoken because regardless of if Spectre wanted it, Ryoken wanted to confront the weirdness between them.

“I’m sorry.” Ryoken started.

“Don’t.” Spectre intoned sharply but oddly disappointed.

“I noticed your mutism flared up around Playmaker and Soulburner earlier…” Ryoken said, and also at the iced tea kiosk but he didn’t mention that.

“Yes…” Spectre murmured.

“I just want to know,” Ryoken said, “is there anything I can do for you? I’m just really worried about you.”

“I know…” Spectre murmured. “I’m just having a hard time collecting my thoughts as of late.”

“I can tell.” Ryoken replied.

Spectre hazarded a smile because he knew that’s what Ryoken was likely probing him for.

“If you think of anything, anything at all, I want to help.” Ryoken said.

“I’d like to hear it.” Spectre blurted out suddenly, eyes watering. “I want to hear you say you won’t leave me behind or abandon me, please.”

Ryoken blinked. He was surprised but he also wasn’t surprised, so his expression softened.

“I won’t ever leave you behind, I promise, you mean the world to me Spectre, if I were to abandon you, I would be abandoning my whole world, please believe me when I say that, I love you.” Ryoken replied and then he realised what he had said. “You don’t have to say it back to me, don’t feel pressured, please.”

“I love you too.” Spectre said in a tiny voice and he smiled. It was small and twitchy and even a little uncertain but Ryoken knew it was genuine.

Ryoken smiled. “Can I hug you?” he asked. “Please.”

Spectre flashed him a look that made him look very fawnish and hurt but he instead said, “No.”

“Oh.” Ryoken murmured. Not quite a gasp but he couldn’t be surprised. It was Spectre’s decision; he would respect it even if it made his heart flutter.

“I want to hug you.” Spectre said with clarification, but he still carried this odd look about him.

Spectre got up and he sat next to Ryoken. His heart hammered in his chest. Ryoken felt similarly. Spectre hefted his legs up and he cuddled in, holding Ryoken at the bottom of his waist. He had this very petulant look of dislike on his face, but he closed his eyes. He listened to the swift beating of Ryoken’s heart. Ryoken smiled and put his arms around Spectre.

“Does it hurt?” Ryoken asked in a quiet voice.

“No, it doesn’t.” Spectre replied as a whisper.

Ryoken wanted to reply but he was fairly certain that his gladness was already conveyed as Spectre continued to settle. He didn’t seem all that uncomfortable anymore so Ryoken patted his back, stroking him gently.

#respectfulshipping #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #ryoken kogami #kogami ryoken #spectre (vrains)#specter (vrains)#writing tag #i teared up twice: once whilst coming up with the idea and once whilst writing it #so im hoping that it elicits the same/similar reaction in anyone who reads it #i also hope i've respectfully portrayed the disorders i've written spectre as having too....

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2: The Hero

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which every hero is different; hers just killed two men.

Word count: 7.4k

AU: princess!y/n, prisoner!harry, conartist!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage and her father’s rotten kingdom in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

Wattpad link (original character: Reyna)

A/N: Please let me know what you think :) Thank you for reading! Merry Christmas!

The little princess sat by the window with her chin on her palm, taking in the magnificent view of the beautiful kingdom of Theros. She grew up with her mother's fairytale about a princess locked up in a high tower and a prince showing up just in time to save the damsel in distress. And yet, there she was, locked up in a high tower and no prince charming was on his way to rescue her.

She should have been outside, picking flowers under the sun, rolling down the hill and lying on the green grass. She should be allowed to do the things a normal child loved to do. But now it occurred to her that she wasn't a normal child. She was a princess whose job was to follow the rules; and by breaking them, she not only caused trouble for herself but also for others. Maybe it would be for the best if she just disappeared.

Her family would be better off without her. Her mother would probably miss her, but the queen would eventually grow used to her absence. If she left, no one would have to waste their time worrying about her and punishing her and bearing her father's anger for her. And she would be free to do whatever she wanted. Oh, what a great vision that was!

But a dream was only a dream. She knew she could never escape from this life. She had never gone past the curtain walls by herself and for certain would get lost, starve and die alone if she did. The only choice she had left was to endure until she was old enough to marry a prince, and only then would she be able to leave her kingdom to start a new life.

She sighed at the thought, gazing at the cloudless blue sky while imagining her hero showing up on his beautiful white horse.

The door creaked open suddenly and Y/N jolted right up when she heard a voice that didn't belong to her maid.

"Y/N."

"Uncle!"

The little princess hopped away from the window and ran right into King Edgar's arms. He picked her up, holding her tightly and stroking her hair; his touch was just as gentle as her mother's, and for a second, she forgot that she was being punished.

"God, you're growing up so fast! You're so heavy now!"

"I'm taller too!"

"You are!" Edgar laughed when the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

"Did the guards see you come in, uncle? My father doesn't allow—"

"It's okay, darling. You are now free to leave your chamber."

Y/N's pale grey eyes brightened as soon as she heard. "Really? How?!"

Edgar put his niece down and breathed out a laugh as he got down on his knees in front of her. "It was a shame you weren’t there to see the match today. I asked your father to forgive you if I won, and I did. So you’re free to go."

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The little princess said joyously, giving her uncle another tight hug.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Anything for my favourite girl.”

Despite the love Edgar had for his niece, the feud between the two families had existed since time began. Every Northern king had wanted to invade Theros, for this kingdom was not only large and rich, but its people were also more well-educated and skilled.

The Connells, who had been the rulers in the South for all that time, preferred peace but they wouldn’t mind shedding blood and taking blood to protect their land. Had it not been for the marriage of Princess Meira and Prince Willem, the two houses might still be each other's enemies up till this day.

Though a war would go against everything their ancestors had fought for and Meira would never forgive him if he dared to invade her home, Willem had often mulled it over.

A few years before, during a reunion feast, Edgar had jokingly suggested a duel between him and Willem, and the winner of which could have anything they asked for.

"If I win, would you give me Theros?" Willem had said, laughing as if it was a joke, but everyone at the table knew he had never been more serious about anything.

The guests, Meira, and even Willem himself had expected Edgar to start laughing along, but with a solid look in his eyes, he had instantly accepted the deal.

“What do you want in return if you win?”

"Nothing,” Edgar had said without pause. “Seeing you humiliated is already my biggest reward."

"You sound confident," Willem had mocked, a condescending smirk spreading across his face.

And Edgar had calmly replied, "that's not confidence, brother. That's a fact."

When Willem heard those words, he had been so sure that he would return to Isolde the morning after with both kingdoms in the palm of his hand. But what he didn’t know was, Edgar had been the greatest swordsman in his kingdom since he was a boy. He had never lost a battle in his life, and would certainly not lose to someone who had not picked up a sword in a decade.

Edgar had won the duel that year, and the year after that, and another one after that. He had won every year since. Being too proud to accept it, Willem would ask for a rematch every time he visited Theros, hoping that he would win. But no matter how much effort he’d put into training, he always faced the same defeat.

"Your father is a fool, Y/N, just like your brother."

Y/N covered her mouth and tittered at her uncle's remark. Uncle Edgar was probably the only man she knew who wasn't afraid of her father, and for that reason, she adored him the most.

"Now, my love. How would you like a walk in the garden with me?"

“Did you even need to ask?!” Y/N squealed in excitement, and without waiting for her uncle, bolted out of the room.

The little princess loved everything about this palace, but her favourite place had to be the garden. She and her mother had tried growing flowers in their own garden back home, but nothing could survive the abysmal cold in the North and so they’d stopped doing it years ago. Now their garden looked like an enormous blanket of white, while the garden here was a vibrant painting with all the colours of a rainbow. The lake-side air was pungent with the sweet fragrance of flowers, and King Edgar even picked a rose to put it in her hair.

"I wish I could stay here forever," she mumbled as they both rested on a bench by the lake. "I wasn't happy back home. Both father and Egon were mean to me and every time mother tried to help me, father got mad at her too.”

Edgar shook his head, his brows knitted together. "That little idiot Egon should’ve been punished, not you."

"Yes, Egon was a liar! But father said no one could punish the future king so Egon can just do whatever he wants and hurt whoever he wants. Did you know that he made the servants in the castle stand still for him to beat them with his wooden sword?”

"That is outrageous!” Edgar cried out in anger. “My father, your grandfather, used to punish me all the time when I was young. If someone does something wrong, they should take responsibility for their action, no matter if they're a boy or a girl. Both are equal."

Y/N took some time to think before she spoke, "then why can't girls be king, uncle? Is there a rule for that?"

"Not that I know of." Edgar gave a shrug, smiling. "Maybe you will be the first king who's a girl. I can see great potential in you, Y/N."

If Y/N had heard this before the accident by the river, maybe she would've been so happy and wholeheartedly believed in those words. But now she had come to terms with the fact that she was better off standing back and taking orders from the men in her family.

"Only in my wildest dreams, uncle," she said with a small smile. "But that's okay. One day, I will marry a prince and move far away from Isolde. I just hope my future husband will be as kind and understanding as you."

Edgar gave a nod as he held her pink cheek and pressed his lips against her forehead. "I hope that for you as well, my darling. Whatever happens, just know that Theros will always be your second home. You'll always be welcome here."

Y/N wasn't sure why her uncle had said that or whether he knew something she didn't, but it warmed her heart to hear his assurance. She put the red rose back into her hair, grinning from ear to ear.

Summer came and went and winter came again.

It was that time of the year when every door in Isolde was closed and no travellers would come to this kingdom, for only the people there could bear this agonising cold. It was the type of coldness that reached into your bones and turned your blood into icy sludge. No one wanted to go outside after sunset when the air was so chilled it hurt to even breathe.

And during those winter days, the fireplace became Y/N's little sun for the evening, painting her mother’s reading room with yellow and orange hues while casting long shadows over the rug.

She would lay her head on her mother’s lap, watching the flames curl and sway in hypnotised joy while listening to the same old stories until she fell asleep, and dreamed about her own happy ending.

As a child, she let those moments pass by without knowing, and only learned to cherish them when they had become distant memories.

Her mother died in the winter.

Y/N was fourteen that year. She had never dealt with the loss of a loved one before, but she guessed it wouldn’t have been as hard had it not happened so suddenly. It was the plague that had killed thousands of people in the kingdom, and her mother was one of those poor victims. And when it was over, it didn’t feel like it was. Everything had been destroyed. Isolde looked like the kingdom of the dead, and without the queen, it was sinking into despair.

The king and his court didn’t travel South in the summer again. Willem said that trip would be meaningless now that his queen was gone, but those who knew him well would know the real reason. He just didn't want to travel by the Vedarr River without Meira.

As for Y/N, she was completely lonely in this world now that her mother was gone.

For the first year after the queen’s death, she had been exchanging letters with her uncle. But then her father found out and forbid her from doing that again. He didn’t want to associate with the Connells anymore, and Y/N believed he was trying to make it seem like her mother had never existed. He dealt with grief by neglecting its importance.

But it was easier said than done. Meira had been his light, and when he lost her, he also lost the only living part inside of him. She would always be there in everything he did, and he would have to carry the pain of losing her until the day he died.

That year, Y/N was eighteen, Egon was twenty, and Willem was ill. Gravely ill.

Words were spreading around that it wouldn’t take long until it was Egon took his father’s place. The king’s condition only worsened each day, and not even the best doctors could figure out what was wrong with him. However, Y/N thought she might know the answer.

“Can people die of a broken heart?”

She sat by the window of her chamber, staring blankly at the grey cloudless sky above. She felt her lady-in-waiting stop combing her hair, so she turned back to look at the girl.

“Nobody knows what’s killing him. That’s the only explanation, Jo,” the princess mumbled, her face twisted.

Jo said nothing for a moment. She didn’t know what to say and wasn’t sure what Y/N wanted to hear. Eventually, she let out a heavy sigh. “We should not discuss His Majesty’s condition, my lady. Not even when we’re alone.”

Y/N pressed her lips together and gave a nod. She knew she should never discuss these matters in the castle but she trusted Jo, at least more than anyone else there.

Jo was a few years older than her and was also her only friend. She loved talking to Jo, but she wished the girl had been more opinionated instead of just agreeing with most of the things she said and disagreeing only when it might get them into trouble.

“I know, it’s just--” Y/N exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t…I don’t think my brother would be a good king. What has he been doing for the last four years but drinking and fucking and drinking again?”

“Well, His Highness is a great soldier.”

Jo’s innocent comment made Y/N guffaw. “A great soldier,” she scorned. “Hurting people for self-pleasure doesn’t make you great or a soldier. Killing and ruling are two very different things.”

“My apology, Your Highness. I-I don’t...don’t know much about these things.”

When Jo hung her head to hide her blushing, Y/N knew right away something was wrong. She got on her knees and grabbed the maid’s shoulders.

“Did he--” Y/N stopped right when she saw the look in Jo’s eyes. That silence was the answer she had expected, but not the one she wanted to hear.

Without even finishing the question, she jumped right off the bed and stormed out of the room. The maid chased after her, begging her to let it go, but she was so mad she would have kicked the door down if her brother hadn’t left his wide open.

“You! Out!”

The naked girl in his bed crumbled in fear and hurriedly got up to put her dress back on, not wanting to disobey the princess. She looked like she was about to cry from humiliation as she walked out, but her ‘lover’ in bed couldn’t seem less bothered.

Egon adjusted the sheets around his waist and leaned back against the headboard, smirking at his little sister and her lady-in-waiting. “Was she being too loud? I could get a different whore, a mute one perhaps?”

That response got him a look of disgust from Y/N.

“I told you to stay away from Jo!”

“My lady, plea--”

“You could fool around with the entire kingdom, man or woman, but not Jo!”

“She was begging for it. Just ask her.”

“You--”

Y/N charged forward and the maid grabbed her right before she could attack her brother.

A condescending grin tugged at Egon’s chapped lips as he released a happy sigh, knowing it would only drive his sister insane for there was nothing she could do about it.

“You’re sick, Egon,” Y/N spat, wrapping both arms around Jo, who was holding back her tears, too scared to even look up.

“Brush your hair and stay out of my business, dear sister. You’re meeting your future husband today. A horse wouldn’t want to fuck you if he saw you like that.”

Ignoring her brother's snide remark, the princess stormed out of the room and slammed the door.

She didn’t blame the maid. She knew her brother had his way with words and no girl could resist his deceiving charm. No matter how cruel he was to them, all he needed to do was promise them all the things he would never give, and they would believe him entirely. That was why she felt the need to protect girls like Jo from him. Girls who had grown up without love and couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

But then again, it was difficult to differentiate between the two things. Living in a place like this, fantasy was the only thing that could get you through the day.

Y/N had spent years dreaming about a beautiful love story and the hero on a white horse who would take her far away from this place, from the bad memories and the people who’d hurt her.

She was going to meet her betrothed tonight, at the ball. And she was excited, but also worried. If reality turned out to be different from the fantasy she’d been holding onto for her entire childhood, she would be so heartbroken.

“I’m sure the prince of Attwell is a gentleman and he will love you with all his heart,” Jo said while braiding the princess’ hair.

Y/N put on her gloves, smiling as she turned around. “When I get married, I will take you with me, Jo. We’ll move far away from here, and I’ll find you a rich husband who will take care of you.”

“I don’t need a husband, my lady. I’m happy to spend the rest of my life serving you.”

As Jo handed Y/N her sword, the princess almost told the maid how crazy that idea was, that from what she’d been taught, every girl needed a man. But when she saw the elation on Jo’s face, all she did was nod and smile.

There was a field right outside the keep where Y/N had spent most of her childhood training and fighting battles with her wooden sword. When she was little, she used to always go there to train with Egon, but now she did it alone and was actually happy with that. The only person she missed every time she picked up her sword was her uncle. He had been an excellent teacher and always made her feel confident about her skills. And even though she had gotten more comfortable using the weapon, it was impossible to get better at fighting when she had no opponent.

Too distracted by the thought of uncle Edgar, Y/N didn’t hear footsteps coming towards her from behind, and one swing of her sword caused the person to scream and collapse onto the ground.

She turned around, terrified, but then heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the man propping himself up, unharmed. He looked up, their eyes meeting for the first time. One look at his face stopped the princess in her tracks. She guessed he was well aware of his good looks for he didn’t seem bothered by the way she was tongue-tied and gawking at him.

“Your eyes are grey…” Y/N blurted before she could stop herself. Blood raised right up to her face, but the stranger only chortled and lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug.

“They are, yes. Thank you for noticing.”

When he smiled at her, she lowered her sword but kept her guards up by keeping a good distance from him. He got back on his feet, sweeping snow off his clothes, and that was when she spotted the symbol of a hawk on his golden pin.

“Are you from Attwell?”

“Yes. How do you know?” The boy chuckled and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

She pressed her lips into a small smile, pointing to the pin on his left shoulder.

“Oh, right.” He smacked his forehead, laughing again.

“So you’re...here with the Gennadys? For the ball tonight?” She took a step toward him, her sword was now on her side. “Are you--”

“Prince Kavan Gennady of Attwell,” he finished her sentence, seemingly amused by the startled look on her face as he took her hand and gave it a kiss. “At your service, Your Highness.”

Y/N’s eyes grew bigger than before. She had to stutter for almost a second before she could blurt out the full sentence. “How do you know I’m the princess?”

The prince pointed to her dress. “If a servant got to wear that type of silk, Isolde must be the wealthiest kingdom in the world.”

Blushing, Y/N rolled her eyes and breathed out a laugh. Then, it hit her. Her future husband had just seen her swinging a real sword as if it was a toy. And she knew better than anyone what would happen when a man caught a woman holding a sword. But why hadn’t Kavan said anything? Was he not surprised or angry or disgusted?

“Do...do you find this strange?”

“What’s strange?”

He seemed confused by her question, so she lifted her sword. “This.”

“I’m sure every kingdom has these,” he said, making her chuckle.

“No. It’s me holding this. Have you seen a girl fighting with a sword before?”

“Yes, my mother.”

“What?” Y/N’s expression went blank in an instant. “Y-Your mother? A queen?”

“Yes.” Kavan nodded proudly, a big smile spread across his handsome face. “In fact, we’ve got a lot of female soldiers in Attwell. So this isn’t strange at all.”

“Wow...I-I didn’t know that...”

Seeing her more relaxed than before, the prince heaved a sigh of relief and extended his hand. “Walk with me? I’ll tell you more about Attwell. After all, it’s going to be your new home soon.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate to put her hand in his. She had never been to Attwell and she had only just met this prince, but she had a good feeling about this marriage. Could this be the happy ending she had been waiting for?

Was he her hero?

Having lived there her entire life, it was actually the first time Y/N had seen the ballroom in her castle. It was far different from what she’d imagined, and yet was everything she’d expected it to be, with crystal chandeliers spiralling down from the arching golden ceiling, illuminating the glimmering golden walls and the polished floor that looked like an iced-over lake.

There had never been parties or fun in the castle before tonight, or maybe there had been when her mother was still alive, but she’d been too small to be able to attend.

This time, however, not only did she get to host a ball of her own, but she also got to decide who would be on the guest list. She’d received looks of judgement when she told them she wanted Jo to be invited, but those grumpy old men who were responsible for the event couldn’t say anything about it and had to include her lady-in-waiting.

“Where’s Jo?” Y/N asked the guard standing behind her as both seats next to her were empty. She knew her father couldn’t leave the bed to join them tonight, but Jo should've been there by now.

“Why do you care about your maid when your future husband is also not at his table?” Egon, who was sitting on the other side of their father’s chair, said with a mouth full of food.

It was only then that Y/N noticed Prince Kavan was also missing from his table. She hadn’t seen him since they said goodbye after their walk around the courtyard. The royal performers were keeping all the guests entertained and dinner would be served once they’d finished. She didn’t really care for the prince for he knew what he was doing. She was afraid Jo would get anxious and change her mind at the last minute.

“Your Highness, where are you going?” the guard asked when she got up, but she just waved him off and told him not to follow her. Egon’s loud laughter faded away as she marched toward the back door and snuck out without anyone knowing.

In her golden ball gown, Y/N wandered aimlessly down the long corridor, calling her friend’s name loudly and waiting for a response. Where could Jo be? If she didn’t want to come, she would’ve told Y/N. Jo would never—

A loud moan stopped her right then.

She stilled for a second. And she heard it again.

She turned around, glaring at one of the closed doors on her right before approaching it slowly. Whoever was inside that room was making noises like those wounded animals before being killed by her father on a hunt. But those animals were in pain, this person was clearly enjoying whatever they were doing.

Her heart started racing faster as she thought she recognised the voice.

“Please...m-more...yes...”

Y/N couldn’t allow herself to believe it. Her brain was trying its best to deny what she knew was true, but her shaky hand was already one step ahead, grabbing the handle and yanking the door wide open. Her horrified gasp tore the guilty couple apart.

She'd finally found Jo, sitting on the table, legs spread, completely naked underneath the dress Y/N had given her to wear for tonight. And the man who was kneeling between the servant's legs looked up at her with the same grey eyes she'd fallen for. All three of them were speechless, and it was Jo who broke the silence by hopping off the table.

“Your Highness, I can explain! Your Highness, please!”

Jo chased her out of the room. Both of them were crying, but Y/N believed she was the only one who was truly hurt.

“I just wanted to prove to you that he was a rat! You deserve so much better!”

“You are a rat, Jo! I trusted you!” Y/N turned around, fire blazing in her eyes. “You were like a sister to me. You made me believe you were naive! I even tried to protect you from Egon!”

“Can’t you see, Princess?!” Jo uttered in tears as she grabbed Y/N’s arm. “I just...I just wanted to prove to you that men were all the same! I don’t want you to marry one. I-I love you.”

“W-What?” Y/N choked on her word. Her ears were buzzing for a second before her expression hardened. “You love me? You love me?! You fucked my future husband behind my back. Lied to my face. And you dared to say you loved me?!”

“I’ve loved you since I met you...It can be just us...You don’t need a husband.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Y/N sniffled as she freed her arm from Jo's grip with a violent tug. “And I don’t need you either. You can’t just hurt someone to get what you want and call it love, Jo. It doesn’t work that way.”

"Your Highness, plea--"

"Now get out of my sight."

The princess gave a dismissive wave of her hand before storming off.

“The wedding will not be cancelled.”

"Father!"

"You are lucky I didn't punish you for leaving our guests before dinner even started. Now get out!"

"No!"

The king, though unwell, tried to sit up to look at his stubborn daughter who was standing at the foot of his bed. The aggressive look on her face told him she could not be moved, not even by violence.

“I don’t love him, father. And he obviously doesn’t love me.”

“You will both learn to tolerate each other.”

"It makes no sense to marry someone and tolerate them, father. If you don’t love someone, you can't spend the rest of your life with them. And he was lying with Jo!”

“Then we’ll kill Jo.”

“Don't you dare!” Y/N raised her voice, startling the old man. “I don’t want you to hurt Jo! I just want to stop this wedding! If you went back in time and had to marry someone else, not mother, would you have done it?!”

“Yes.”

Y/N couldn’t tell whether her father's sickness was to blame for that thoughtless answer, or it was his cold heart which had been frozen since the death of her mother. Either way, she wasn’t ready to hear the rest.

“I married your mother to get the throne and that was the only reason. You’ll marry this boy and be his Queen and bring us a strong alliance. Now get out.”

But Y/N was rooted to the floor. She looked at him with bitter resentment in her eyes, and she knew it wasn't actually her that he saw, it was her mother. Those were Meira's eyes, and that look would continue to haunt Willem, following him down to his grave.

“If mother could return from the dead and hear these words, she would kill herself.”

“GUARDS!” Willem roared and two guards rushed in to drag her outside. She didn't even protest, she let them take her. The doctors bolted into the room, and when the double door fell shut in front of Y/N, a dark thought crossed her mind, sending shivers down her spine.

She wished those vengeful words would kill the king.

For all her life, she had prided herself on being nothing like that man, but now she knew it wasn’t entirely true. She was still her father’s daughter, whether she liked it or not.

She had to leave. It was the only way.

Y/N supposed one must have a detailed plan for running away, but she was too angry to think straight when she put some jewellery into a satchel, grabbed her sword and headed to the stable. The only logical thing she could come up with at that point was that she needed a strong horse for this long journey. She didn't know where she was going, but she must get out of Isolde, even if it ended with her head on a spike.

“Oh no, not Thunder!”

The black horse reared and neighed out of fear, causing Y/N to jump back.

Egon was standing at the entrance and smiling devilishly at her. “I was going to take him out for a ride, but it seems like my dear sister is going to do it for me. Are you finally running away?”

His question got her speechless. She wanted to deny it, but it would have made things worse.

“Are you going to tell father?”

“No.” Egon shook his head, clicking his tongue and marching toward the girl. “I don’t care about you. Just take a different horse."

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely! Where are you going by the way?”

“I don’t know.” She eyed him up and down as he circled around her like a vulture waiting to feed. Having known him for all those years, she could not trust anything that came out of his mouth.

“And you’re going by yourself?”

She quietly nodded.

“Brave!” His applause made her jump. “Good luck surviving though. I'll give you...two days!” He beamed, raising two fingers. “You'll either run out of food, get robbed in the forest, or eaten by wild animals. I mean, when was the last time you went past the curtain walls? Oh right, never.”

Still quiet, Y/N tried not to show her fear and make Egon happy, but she couldn't help it. She swallowed hard, pursing her lips.

“Scared already?” he mocked, laughing slightly. “I thought so. You are weak. You've always been. It’s time to use your head instead of your heart, dear sister.”

Y/N tightened her grip on the handle of her sword until her knuckles turned white. She thought she might lose it and cut Egon's throat for the things he'd said, but lucky for him, a guard showed up just in time to clear the tension.

“Your Highness!”

“Not now.” Egon waved his hand, but the man didn't leave.

“We’ve brought him here. He’s in the dungeon.”

“Who?” Y/N asked when she saw the unusual delight on her brother's face.

“A murderer,” he said with a smirk. “He killed two of our brave men last night.”

Oh, that. That she had heard. Egon had rewarded his favourite guards a free night in a brothel as he always did for no reason at all, but what was meant to be the best night of their lives had ended with two out of five getting killed in a fistfight.

Words travelled fast in this small kingdom and she believed by today, everyone would've already heard the story. However, they would choose to believe Egon's version of what had happened, because after all, the man who had committed a crime was from Theros. And Northerners absolutely loathed those from the South.

“You had someone captured for saving an innocent woman?!” Y/N gave Egon's shoulder a hard push, but he didn't budge.

“I don’t know what they told you, but she clearly wasn’t an innocent woman.” He rolled his eyes. “She was a prostitute. And that Southern fool killed two of our guards for a dirty whore.”

“Those men were trying to hurt that woman,” she said between gritted teeth, giving Egon a spiteful glare. “If I was him, I would’ve done the same thing and made sure none of your fools was alive to run back to the castle like cry babies.”

Rather than being offended, her brother suddenly pinched her lips together and burst out laughing when she pushed his hand away.

“With that filthy mouth no wonder your future husband is fucking the entire kingdom except for you.”

Y/N hated to admit that it hurt as much as the first time she’d heard it, but knowing her brother, she felt no need to react to his harsh words and give him the satisfaction he was craving for.

When Egon was sure she had nothing else to say, he gave the guard a signal to continue.

The man nodded his head. “I’ve talked to the people in the brothel and apparently the prisoner was a conman. He fooled rich people for their money and—”

“And that place was full of rich brainless men,” Y/N finished the sentence, trying to hold back a smile. “That was smart.”

“Smart?” Egon scoffed. “With that long list of crimes, the rat will be hung by tomorrow morning.”

Y/N turned a deaf ear to her brother’s comment and asked the guard, “do you know if he has a family?”

“Ugh...women,” Egon gagged, but once again, was ignored.

“They said his mother was sick so he was probably stealing for her.”

“A criminal with a tragic backstory. Isn’t he exactly like one of those dumb character in mother’s boring bedtime stories?”

Y/N took a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s his name?”

“Styles, my lady. Harry Styles.”

Harry

Styles

Harry

Styles

Harry

The princess repeated the name over and over again even after her brother and the guard had left. Harry Styles, a conman from Theros, who had a sick mother and would do anything to get back to her. And she, a damsel in distress, whose only family left was her uncle in Theros.

Could this be?

Could this be her brilliant masterplan?

“Harry Styles? Which one of you is Harry Styles?!”

This is stupid. Really fucking stupid!

Y/N had never gone down to the dungeon before so she didn't know they kept so many prisoners down there. She'd thought this would be easy to identify this man, but now it seemed like looking for a needle in the ocean.

Where had they found all these people?! Who fed them?! And when was the last time they'd showered?!

Covering her nose, she screamed and kicked a hand that reached through the bars to grab her ankle.

"That's it!" She stopped and raised her voice, "which one of you is Harry fucking--"

“It’s me! I’m Harry Styles!”

The princess turned her head quickly to the left. In the last cell in that narrow hall was a thin black man whose face was almost hidden under his enormous beard. He cracked a wide smile, showing his yellow teeth.

That was certainly not the Harry Styles in her imagination...

“He's Mick. I’m Harry.”

She turned again, this time to her right, and her eyes lit up with a hopeful smile when she saw a young man with broad shoulders and strong arms, looking exactly the hero she'd been waiting for.

He sat in the shadow, curly brown hair falling down to his shoulders, and even in this dim light, she could make out the handsome features on his beautiful face. Hold on, this is too good to be true! said the voice inside her head. The other guy makes more sense!

As if he could read her mind, the young man popped his dimples and said, "Mick and I have been friends for two days and he’s been telling everyone his name is Harry Styles.”

“I’m Harry Styles! Hello, pretty lady!”

“He’s great, isn't he?” Harry chuckled as he got up and stepped closer to the bars to close the distance between them. “Who are you, pretty lady?”

“I-I’m the princess...the princess' maid,” she faltered, holding her satchel even tighter and very well-aware that the rosy colour of her cheeks could still be seen in this lack of light. “I came to...to give you an offer.”

Harry furrowed his brows, looking dead serious for only a second and then tossed his head back as he cracked up. “Tell Her Highness I’m flattered but His Highness is an idiot and I can’t stand a brother-in-law like that.”

“What?! You actually think you have a chance with Her Royal Highness? She said no to a prince. What made you think she would marry you?!"

“Woah, lady. Why are you so offended? Are you Her Royal Highness?” Harry pouted, reaching through the bars to tap her on the shoulder but she immediately backed away. “And she didn’t say no to the prince. The wedding’s tomorrow. Mick and I have not seen the sun in two days and even we know that. You are terrible at your job.”

Y/N crossed her arms as she rolled her eyes.

Now it was more believable that this was the man who would get her out of Isolde. Handsome, buff, but extremely annoying. She was really God's least favourite, wasn't she?

“Is that...real gold?” he gasped, pointing to the satchel on her side.

She immediately shushed him and stepped forward, their faces were only separated by the iron bars. “Yes, these are all from the princess.”

“I’m not a prostitute, lady. I have a lover waiting for me at home.”

“Ew, no! Why would a princess want to lie with someone like you?!”

“'Lie with.' This one sounds like my grandma, Mick!”

Both Mick and Harry laughed, but she didn't have more time for his bullshit. She grabbed his collar and gave a hard tug, pressing his cheek against the cold bars.

“I stole the princess' jewellery and they're after me. They're going to kill me,” she whispered, making sure that no one besides the two of them could hear her. “Now I need your help to get me out of here. I need you to take me back to Theros with you.”

“Why would you want to go to Theros?” Harry looked confused and shocked at the same time. She guessed he'd never seen a maid as aggressive and violent as she was. Neither had she. Maybe she needed to tone it down.

“I have to reunite with...someone I love,” she said, biting her lip, blushing again. She was only blushing because of the way he was holding her eye contact, but somehow making it seem like she also had a lover in the South. He couldn't have related to this person being her uncle, but now that it was a lover, maybe he'd say yes.

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking for a moment. “Did your parents not tell you to never trust a stranger?”

“I have nothing to lose.”

“I have a lot to lose. I’m not going to die with you.”

“You’re going to die anyway. They’re going to have you hung. I heard Eg--the prince...say that to one of the guards.”

Before she could come up with a solid argument to back up her reason, Harry threw his fist against the wall, causing her and Mick to flinch at the same time.

“That bastard!” He ground his jaw.

She swallowed hard, her eyes fixated on the hole on the wall as she wondered why his hand wasn't bleeding, but then she snapped out of it and quickly pulled out the keys she'd stolen to unlock his cell. He stood there, eyes wide with shock until she waved her hand in front of his face.

“Hurry up! The guards are on their way. I knocked down two of them so--”

“You what?!”

"How did you think I got in here and stole these keys?!"

“I don't know! I haven't even thought of that yet!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing in frustration. "Listen, you...big-headed fool!"

"Oh wow, that--"

"Shh!" She covered his mouth with both hands so she could get her turn to speak. "You can either stay here and die tomorrow, probably tonight, if you’re unlucky; or you can come with me, and live! Well...you might die too, but...it's a fifty-fifty chance."

"Wow, you're really bad at this," he said when she finally removed her hands. "Fine, I'll do it. But only for the woman I love."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"And because you have puppy dog eyes."

She groaned, waving goodbye to Mick and pulling Harry with her. They left just in time the guards arrived and found two unconscious men blocking the entrance.

"So what's your name?"

Y/N turned a deaf ear to Harry's question as she peeked from behind a wall to check if the guards were gone. Unfortunately no. Those men were still having a relaxed conversation at the entrance while she was trapped there with a mouth that could not shut. They had only been hiding for five minutes and this man was already driving her insane with his questions.

"If you're not going to tell me, I guess I'll have to give you a name. Let me see..."

"Don't you dare give me a name!" She turned around, pointing a finger to his face and he shushed her for being too loud.

Y/N exhaled, glaring at him. She hadn't thought of a fake name yet, but the first thing that came to her mind was the first thing she wished to see again when she arrived in Theros.

"Rain."

He arched an eyebrow, amused. "Like...drops of water from the sky?"

"Yes, Dictionary."

Her sarcasm made him chuckle. It was actually the first time someone had laughed at something she said because they genuinely found it funny and not because they had to. She couldn't explain this strange feeling inside her stomach, only acknowledged its existence, and decided that she liked it very much.

The princess felt the blood rising up to her face when their eyes met for the second time. She had never interacted with a common man before, let alone a prisoner who had allegedly killed two of her father’s guards. Ironically, she felt safer now than she had ever been.

“Hey, you’re blushing again.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” The man chuckled. “You know what? I will call you Peach.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re always blushing.”

“You asked for my name and then came up with a stupid name yourself?”

Harry ignored the question as he cocked his head toward the entrance. “How do we get past those guards, Peach?”

#tctm series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #princess!y/n #conman!harry #conartist!harry #prisoner!harry

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abbeyroadie · 4 years

Text

I know others have gotten that stupid question when someone finds out that you like The Beatles they ask, “Oh yeah? Name five Beatles songs that weren’t big hits.” The other day I told someone that my favorite Beatle is Paul McCartney and they said, “Ok, name five songs from McCartney’s solo career.” Laaaaaawd I have nothing to prove to anyone, but it always grinds my gears when people assume I’m only wearing a Beatles t-shirt for aesthetics, or I only love Paul for his looks. Bitch please.

So I compiled this list of songs that I first tried to narrow down to ten and quickly realized I couldn’t even narrow it down to twenty, lol. My favorite Paul McCartney songs post Beatles era are listed below with links to YouTube to hear each song. I left out anything he did as a collaboration just because this list is hella long already. Please feel free to add your favs as well!

36. Calico Skies

- I love the simplicity of this song. Paul’s finger picking on the guitar vaguely reminds me of the style of Blackbird.

35. Put It There

- This song has a soft, sweet melody that always gets stuck in my head.

34. The World Tonight

- “I go back so far, I’m in front of me.” Sometimes Paul’s lyrics are awesomesauce, lol.

33. Call Me Back Again

- I love how this song kinda goes back to his roots. Very oldies, very bluesy. Lots of wailing Paul and great guitar licks.

32. This One

- Might be a song for John if you squint sideways and upside down. Another one that’s a definite earworm.

30./31. Venus and Mars/Rock Show

- I’m sort of cheating but these two songs def go together. Venus and Mars is very melodic and draws you in, jumping right into the rocker that is aptly named Rock Show. A great way to kick off the V&M album.

29. C Moon

- This tune is very sentimental to my sister and me. As kids we’d run around the house singing it at the top of our lungs. Also, the beginning when Paul misses the intro and just keeps the gaff in the song makes it that much better, lol.

28. Somedays

- A quiet song, Paul’s more thoughtful, reflective side. The dueling acoustic guitars and harp are especially lovely.

27. Big Barn Bed

- I used to skip over this song because I thought it made no sense. Then one day it hit me how much fun it is. And now I wanna keep on sleeping in a big barn bed too, haha.

26. With a Little Luck

- One of those uplifting, positive tracks that Paul is so freaking good at creating.

25. Young Boy

- Just the way Paul sings “looooooong” and “strooooong” at the end of a couple of the lyrics. And the guitar solo kicks ass too.

24. Goodnight Tonight

- Ooh boy, where to start with this song? First and foremost, that BASSLINE. Perhaps it’s a disco-ish dance number that meets electronica? I don’t even know. John said he didn’t like this song but he loved Paul’s bass playing on it, so there you go, lol.

23. Nineteen-Hundred and Eighty-Five

- This one is very upbeat, but the slowed down intermission with the “ooohs” is what makes it interesting to me. It also includes some amazing piano playing.

22. Hi, Hi, Hi

- I prefer the live version of this song, but it’s tons of fun no matter what.

21. Junk

- A very soft tune that would have fit perfectly on The White Album. Very stripped back and almost sad.

20. Off the Ground

- Paul at his very best at creating melodies that are catchy and fun and don’t delve too deep. “I need lovin’, you need lovin’ too.” And you can’t forget the hand claps and la la las! Good luck getting this song out of your head.

19. Live and Let Die

- I’d be surprised if you haven’t heard this song sometime in your life. It’s one of those songs where you hear it and go, “Wait, I know this song. This is Paul McCartney?!” He be James Bond like that, heehee.

18. Dear Boy

- I’ve heard this song is about Linda’s ex. Some think it’s about John. Either way, it’s a catchy little tune.

17. Take It Away

- This is a great song even before you realize how amazeballs Paul’s bass playing is on it.

16. Monkberry Moon Delight

- Y’all, WHAT EVEN IS THIS SONG?! I don’t know, but it’s so freaking FUN! Paul’s poor voice though. I feel like he probably couldn’t talk for a week after laying down the vocal track, lol.

15. Too Much Rain

- Ugh, this song is so beautiful and so sad at the same time. Paul trying to be optimistic as always.

14. Dear Friend

- Is this a song about John too? Maybe. Probably. A haunting melody with a solitary piano for most of it, with a heavy feeling of regret, at least imo.

13. Band on the Run

- Here you get three songs in one, not unlike the Abbey Road medley but completely different as well. Paul knows how to kick off an album, that’s for sure!

12. Maybe I’m Amazed

- I prefer the live version of this song too, but it kicks you in the gut no matter what. Paul loved Linda so much, and he lets everyone know it.

11. Tug of War

- Ok, I don’t know if this song is about John. It could be. It sounds like Paul’s talking about something…more. “In another world we could stand on top of the mountain with our flag unfurled.” “We will be dancing to the beat played on a different drum.” What is Paul trying to say exactly? Many have debated the lyrics to no end. You decide.

10. Too Many People

- This is FOR SURE about John, and the breakup of the Beatles. And it started a song war between John and Paul that would go on for years. But it’s also a bop, lol.

9. Here Today

- This is Paul speaking to John after John’s death. And it’s completely heartbreaking. I have to be in a certain mindset to listen to this one.

8. Hope of Deliverance

- If this song doesn’t get your foot tapping and your head bopping, idk you might want to check your pulse.

7. Silly Love Songs

- DAT BASS THO. For real, this song is built around Paul’s bassline and it’s amazing! Also, this was Paul basically giving John the finger for making fun of his “granny shit” and “silly love songs.”

6. Jet

- This is one that I crank up in my car and it may or may not make me drive a little faster, lol. I love it so much.

5. Little Lamb Dragonfly

- A two for one! Both songs are lovely, but I particularly love the dragonfly lyrics and melody. (Yes, this song is possibly about John as well (“how did two rights make a wrong?”), but it’s debatable.) Listening to it once usually isn’t enough for me.

4. Little Willow

- Whew, this one makes me emotional. The guitar, the lyrics, the piano, Paul’s voice – all so soothing and unbelievably soft and achy. It breaks my heart in the sweetest way.

3. Mull Of Kintyre

- Arguably the biggest hit of Paul’s solo career, it’s like the Hey Jude of its own time. And it has freaking BAGPIPES, lol. This is one of those songs that you’ve heard before, but you don’t know where and you don’t know how, you just have. It will stick with you for a long time.

2. Let Me Roll It

- This song. THIS SONG. Ughhhhhhhh. So sexy I can’t even begin to explain. You just have to listen and let it take you there. Another one where the bassline makes you want to weep. Tingles. Tingles everywhere.

1. Wanderlust

- This will forever be my favorite solo Paul McCartney song. Completely underrated and simply magical. George Martin has said that this is Paul’s greatest vocal performance and I wholly agree. His voice is so pure and melodic, I sometimes get emotional listening to it. The song as a whole just checks all the boxes of what I most love about a Paul McCartney song – beautiful, melodious and timeless. There’s that old jokey saying, “If this ain’t played at my funeral, I ain’t going.” Yeah, this is that song for me.

#the beatles #paul mccartney #mclennon #i spy mclennon #long post #this was harder to do than i thought #i love a whoooole bunch of paul songs lol

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stealingpotatoes · 4 years

Text

First Meeting

Ao3 link

Summary: Alexi Mayhew meets Empress Emily Kaldwin for the first time. But it doesn’t really happen how she thought it would.

(nb: Going off extra lore stuff, Alexi and Emily were close good friends when they were kids, so I thought I’d write a little thing on smol Emily & Alexi meeting cause ya know… why not? Also realised I never posted this to tumblr so... here it is now!)

---

Alexi hated getting dressed up. Back in Potterstead, she almost never had to get all dressed up formally, but she’d barely lived in Dunwall more than two months, and it already felt like she’d been to more formal things here than she had in her whole life before moving here. And in Dunwall Tower -- because that meant they were at the Empress’ court, apparently -- Alexi had to be even more formal. Her almost-floor-length green dress was too stiff and her mother had done her hair up with too many pins. Alexi hated it.

And they were at a boring meeting or talk or something. But the Empress wasn’t even there, because they were actually seeing her this evening, so really Alexi didn’t even need to look ‘nice’ until then. She didn’t even know what they were doing in Dunwall Tower, really. Her parents owned shops; they weren’t nobles.

But one thing Alexi did know was that she was unbelievably bored just standing there. So she had slipped out of the room, taken her hair down, and began wandering about the Tower. None of the guards seemed to pay her much mind, so she guessed that she was allowed to. She eventually wound up in a hallway with a bunch of paintings along the walls. Some of them had various Emperors and Empresses, some of them were just random places or maybe events. Alexi found herself particularly drawn to a large painting of an Emperor in a formal-ish military outfit, holding a sword in the air in a very commanding way while on a rearing horse, with parts of a battle going on in the background. Alexi began imagining herself as this great general-Emperor.

Alexi was so caught up in the painting that she didn’t notice the sound of someone running down the hall until it was too late. The second she turned around to see what was happening or who it was, she was met by the full impact of someone running into her. Alexi painfully fell straight on her butt.

After a second, she opened her eyes to see a young girl with short-ish black hair, probably about eleven or twelve- Alexi’s age, quickly pushing herself up from the floor.

“Oh! I’m so sorry-- I didn’t see you,” The girl, now standing, extended a hand to Alexi.

Alexi took her girl’s hand, and she helped pull Alexi to her feet.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Alexi said, moving her braided hair behind her back and dusting herself off, “Though, maybe look where you’re going next time?”

“...I had to check if I was being followed!” The girl exclaimed, “But- yes, sorry, I’ll… do that.” She rubbed her arm sheepishly.

Now that they’d both stopped moving, Alexi had a better look at the girl in front of her. She was taller than Alexi, a little lanky really, and wearing an expensive-looking black trouser suit with fine silver embroidery and white trimmings. Her hair had been messed up, probably from the speeding down the halls and the running-right-into-Alexi.

“Who might be following you?” Alexi asked.

The girl tilted her head to the side, “Um- a few people...” she paused and looked Alexi up and down, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?”

“This is my first time in the Tower” Alexi fiddled with the fabric of her skirts a little, “I’m here with my parents. We’re supposed to be meeting the Empress later today or something.”

The girl looked at Alexi thoughtfully before smiling like she knew something Alexi didn’t, “Why aren’t you with them?”

“I was with them, at some really boring meeting-talk-thing. But it was um-- really boring. So…” Alexi shrugged, “I thought I’d explore.”

The girl laughed a little, “There’s no shortage of boring meetings in Dunwall Tower.”

“Do you have to go to those things with your parents too?”

The girl did that smile again, “Something like that…”

Alexi ignored how vague the girl was being, “Um- what were you running from?”

“My lessons.”

“Oh- That explains why you were running so fast.” Alexi said, smiling. Did people have lessons in the Tower?

The girl giggled. “What’s your name?”

“Alexi Mayhew.” Alexi said proudly, “What’s yours?”

“Emily Kaldwin.”

It took a second for the penny to drop. Alexi knew that Empress Emily was her age, had black hair, and she had a rough idea of what the Empress looked like from newspapers and various images. Maybe she just wasn’t actually expecting a child, someone like her -- maybe she’d imagined someone more like the paintings around her, all regal and not running down hallways at great speeds. But Alexi really should’ve noticed it sooner.

This realisation must have shown on her face, because Emily giggled a little.

Alexi’s brow furrowed, “Um- Do I have to call you Your Majesty? Or bow…?”

Emily seemed to think about it for a second, “Technically yes, but you can call me Emily.”

“ Phew. Well uh-” Alexi put her hand out, quickly recovering- “it’s nice to meet you, Emily.”

Emily looked at Alexi’s hand, slightly confused, for a moment, before suddenly shaking it, “It’s nice to meet you too, Alexi.”

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, and Alexi found herself looking at the painting that they were both standing under again.

Emily glanced up at the painting too, and then at a clock near them, “Do you want to see some actual fighting?”

Alexi nodded enthusiastically.

Emily gestured for Alexi to follow, and led her along two halls, until they reached a window seat. Emily climbed into the alcove on her knees, before looking back and gesturing for Alexi to come up, “Come on!”

Alexi pushed herself onto the window seat to kneel next to Emily, and looked out the window. Alexi put her hands to the window sill. Below them, the Dunwall Tower guards were sparring with each other in the training yard. There were maybe 20 guards, plus a captain walking in the space between the sparring matches, yelling things Alexi couldn’t hear. They were all duelling with swords- properly fighting

“ Cool, ” Alexi grinned.

“I know,” Emily said, still staring out the window.

The guards continued to duel below. They were all good duellists, which made sense, seeing as only the best of the City Watch guarded Dunwall Tower. It was impressive to watch all of them fight.

“I want to be able to fight like that,” Alexi said, not taking her eyes off the

“Me too,” Emily said, a little quieter than before.

“When I’m old enough, I’m going to join the City Watch.” Alexi turned to Emily.

Emily faced Alexi, “Maybe I’ll see you training out here soon.”

“Yeah! And you- when you learn to sword fight too.”

Emily chuckled a little, “I don’t think the City Watch will let me spar with them.”

“Why not? It’s technically your training grounds, right?” Alexi twisted her hand on the sill in Emily’s direction.

Emily tilted her head and smirked, “I suppose so.”

Alexi turned back to the window and stared at the guards, still duelling. But she saw Emily looking at her in her peripheral vision and turned her head to face her. “What is it?” she asked, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

Emily half-shrugged, “Everyone’s usually so weird around me. But you’re… not. You’re different.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Alexi asked, cautiously. She was pretty sure that she was ignoring every single piece of ‘etiquette’ she was meant to know, but etiquette was dumb, so she didn’t care.

“Oh- no! Definitely not. No, it’s a good thing.” Emily smiled reassuringly.

Alexi smiled back, “So what’s weird? Do they ”

Emily returned to looking out the window and Alexi did the same. “No, people just act like I’m made of glass or-- Woah , did you see that?!” Emily asked.

“See what?” Alexi looked between the guards.

Emily pointed to a guard on the floor, “His opponent just dodged him perfectly and did this uh- leg swipe, and floored him! It was awesome!”

“Maybe he’ll do it again--”

“Emily?” A man’s rough voice came from the end of the hall, interrupting Alexi.

Emily glanced behind her before looking back to Alexi, annoyed, and huffing, “Callista got Corvo to find me.”

“As in Corvo Attano?” Alexi asked, eyes widening.

Emily nodded.

Alexi knew she’d get to see Corvo Attano today, because the Royal Protector was almost always with the Empress. And if Alexi was being honest, she’d been way more excited to see him than she had been to see the Empress. Because- well, Corvo Attano was a legend! Alexi had heard that he could fight ten armed men at once, with just his bare hands . And that he was the best swordsman and hand-to-hand combatant in all the Isles. And that last year, he’d escaped Coldridge Prison (Coldridge! Nobody escaped Coldridge!), saved Empress Emily twice, taken down the evil Lord Regent (and those other bad people who ruled for like 2 days afterwards) and cleared his name, almost entirely by himself! Earlier, Alexi had almost been hoping that some assassins or something would show up when she was meeting the Empress, just so she’d get to see him in action. And so everything would be less boring.

Emily got down from the seat and Alexi followed suit.

As they got down, a man in a long dark blue coat with gold-yellow trimmings walked around the corner. “Emily-” he said, seeing them and picking up his pace a little. He stopped when he was about a step or two away from them.

Alexi looked up at the man in front of her. She could definitely believe that he’d done all she’d heard. He was so tall as well. There was a sword at his belt- well, a sword hilt. It didn’t have a blade, which was weird.

Alexi stood up a little straighter.

“Corvo, this is Alexi Mayhew. Alexi, this is Corvo.” Emily said, gesturing between Alexi and Corvo.

Corvo gave Alexi a nod and a smile in place of a greeting. Alexi copied him and smiled and nodded back, hoping she didn’t look too in awe.

Corvo turned to Emily, “You’re meant to be in lessons, Your Majesty.”

Emily huffed and dropped her shoulders, “I know, I’m coming.”

“Miss Mayhew, do you need someone to escort you back to your parents?” Corvo asked, looking at Alexi again.

Could he read her mind?! Or… was it just his job to know everything that happened in the tower…? Probably the second one. “I um- yes please.” Alexi said, fiddling with her dress again.

Corvo gave her another single nod, before turning away slightly and making eye contact with Emily.

Emily moved next to Corvo, “It was nice talking to you, Alexi.”

“You too!” Alexi smiled.

With that, Emily and Corvo turned and began walking away. Emily smiled and waved over her shoulder as they walked, “See you later!”

Alexi waved back.

“You took longer than usual,” Emily said once she and Corvo rounded the corner.

“You two sounded like you were having a nice talk. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Then why did you?” Emily looked up at her father.

“Because you’re supposed to be in lessons, and you can’t keep Callista waiting forever,” Corvo said, glancing down at Emily.

Emily let out a little ‘hmph’ and continued walking, “Can I see Alexi again? I liked her.”

“You’re meeting the Mayhews later today.”

Emily tilted her head, “Alexi said something like that.” She was glad that at least Corvo remembered her schedule and knew what was happening. Emily knew she didn’t most of the time.

Emily and Corvo walked on for a bit before Emily spoke again, “You know, really I was performing my Imperial duties by showing Alexi around.”

“Oh? Well, right now, you need to perform your Imperial duty to go to your lessons.”

“Not if I run off again,” Emily said with a sly grin.

Corvo put a hand on Emily’s shoulder -- gentle, but firm enough to stop her from moving off too fast -- and looked down at her with an amused expression “ Lessons. ”

Emily sighed, “Fine.”

#alexi mayhew #emily kaldwin #corvo attano #dishonored #potes wrotes #fanfic #Hope everyone is having a great day

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darriness · 4 years

Text

Klaine Fic - Quality Time

Authors: darriness and @spaceorphan18

Word Count: ~900

Summary: Kurt and Blaine try a little quality time activity together!

Author’s Note: @spaceorphan18 and I decided to try writing a ‘round robin’ type fic where we traded off writing parts! We had no agreed upon trajectory to start with and just went with whatever the other person wrote before. I think it turned out really well. Enjoy!

AO3 Link

Quality Time

Kurt squints, tilts his head from one side to the other and then back again, purses his lips and then sighs and repeats the process. Blaine stands in front of him, nervous eyes flitting from one focus to another, wringing his hands in front of him.

Finally, after several more moments, Kurt sighs one more time, tilts his head and says, “I don’t think that’s what it’s supposed to look like…”

“I told you to bring the book with you so we could see how it’s supposed to be done,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes. “But no, you thought you could figure it out by memory and now, well, we’re in this mess…”

Kurt huffs, “My memory has never done me wrong before!” He exclaims before biting his lips together and pressing his hands down in front of him in a calming gesture, “You know what? Fighting isn’t going to help us or get us any closer to ordering dinner.”

Blaine merely blinks. “Three hours, Kurt. Three hours you had me working on this with you, and now you just want to… stop?”

“I’m hungry!” Kurt emphasizes, “Besides, it’s...fine for now?” The question in his voice is unmistakable.

“Kurt,” Blaine says as calmly as he can. He loves his husband very much, but this is testing his patience entirely. “If we leave it, it might fall over, and I do not want to be the one to try to get it out of the carpet. Why did I let you talk me into doing this in the living room? Why did I let you talk me into this at all?”

Kurt quirks an eyebrow, trying to come off as haughty to cover his embarrassment. Blaine’s right, this WAS his idea, “I just thought we could do something as a couple. Completing a project together is supposed to be good for communication.”

“Well, we haven’t completed anything, so I’m communicating to you now that this was a dumb idea!” Blaine shouts. Kurt recoils, storming off into the kitchen. Blaine lets out a little sigh, feeling guilty for yelling. He knows Kurt had been trying. He appreciates the gesture. He’s just so tired of working on the thing. “Kurt, I’m sorry…” he says as he heads after him.

He finds Kurt at the fridge, jars clinking inside as he moves them around in search of some goal Blaine can’t imagine...until Kurt straightens with their leftover cheesecake in his hands. Kurt looks up from it, “You can be sorry. I’m going to eat this.” He says, grabbing a fork and sitting at the kitchen table. He takes an overdramatic bite and hums in satisfaction.

Blaine takes a seat at the table, and pulls it right near Kurt to watch him shovel in the cheesecake. He grins as Kurt licks the fork.

“What?” Kurt asks, pausing to give him an odd look.

“Out of all the movies we could have tried to recreate, you could have picked When Harry Met Sally,” Blaine says, his bad mood has fizzled away the longer he watches Kurt’s tongue work its magic. “Or something a little more… doable. Instead, you had to go straight for Ghost.”

Kurt’s cheeks pinken as he slowly pulls the fork from his mouth. He sides eyes Blaine for a moment before dipping the fork into the cake and lifting the portion to Blaine’s lips.

Blaine purses his lips to try to hide his smile before opening his mouth and allowing Kurt to put the forkful inside. He hums as he chews and Kurt bites his lip before sighing.

“I mean, it sounded like a good idea in my head.” Kurt defends, “You know, despite the whole ‘you would have been dead during that part’ thing.”

“Yeah, that would have sucked,” Blaine jokes, attempting to lighten the mood. He leans forward and gives Kurt a sloppy kiss on the side of the mouth. “Why don’t we put the pottery away and find… something else to reenact. If you’re feeling inspired enough.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Kurt bites his bottom lip and looks at Blaine from under his lashes. He drags the fork slowly, suggestively, across the top of what’s left of his snack, leaving grooves behind in the softening top layer, “What did you have in mind?”

“Star Wars,” Blaine says, playing it cool with a shrug.

“Star Wars, wha--?”

“You know, lightsaber duels,” Blaine gives him a sultry wink.

Kurt laughs into his bite of cheesecake. “Oh my god.”

“So, what do you say? Wanna turn my lightsaber on?” Blaine’s about to pull Kurt into another, more intense kiss when a very loud thud comes from the living room.

They both turn in the direction of the living room and wince in unison.

“Our bowl!” Kurt exclaims.

Blaine does a double take, “I thought we’d been making a tea cup!”

Kurt lifts an eyebrow and then drops it as he sighs, “I guess lightsabers, or whatever, will have to wait until we clean up our last attempt at movie magic.”

“We could always, you know, use the force to clean up faster.” Blaine suggests.

Kurt throws his head back and laughs as he gets up to start making his way to the living room, “Oh, honey, just so you know? Star Wars references during this time will get you nowhere.”

Blaine smirks, “Noted.” He says before getting up and following Kurt into the living room and the remains of the pottery adventure.

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #spaceorphan18 #my loves #my stuff #with a buddy!#this was so fun!

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the-fanciful-fangirl · 5 years

Text

No One

So I started a new series on AO3 called Different Paths, a place to house the (mostly Luke and Vader) Star Wars AU’s that are always spinning around in my head.

Below is the first one-shot titled, No One, an AU of Bespin because why not?

“The Force is with you, young Skywalker. But you are not a Jedi yet.”

Luke couldn’t decide if Darth Vader is trying to taunt or scare him, perhaps both.

He supposed that he should expect nothing less from the man who had murdered his father and tortured his friends. Regardless, Luke decided that either way, he and Vader would cross blades that day, whether he was ready or not. He pushed thoughts of Yoda and Ben’s warnings from his mind and ascended the stairs, coming to stand right before Vader. But the Dark Lord made no move to light his saber, so Luke lit his, brandishing it as carefully as he could. His muscle memory moved him into a familiar training stance and for a second he hoped that his work on Dagobah would be enough.

Vader lit his own blade and slowly lowered it to cross Luke’s.

It was Luke who struck first, arching the saber up and down towards Vader’s immovable death mask. Unsurprisingly, Vader countered, brushing off Luke’s attack with ease. Unwilling to give up, Luke went at Vader again, with the same overhead strike, but this time the Dark Lord pressed back, sending Luke down to the floor. The young Jedi trainee rose immediately, falling back into his stance.

Luke was already feeling fatigued. Sweat started to form on his face and while he certainly hadn’t extended much energy yet, neither, did it seem, had Vader. Still, Luke told himself that he wasn’t fighting this battle for himself and he pressed forward. Vader actually shrunk back from the advance and allowed Luke to make the first move yet again. They clashed sabers, over and over again. Luke tried several angles of attack but nothing he did even came close to touching Vader.

In fact, Luke soon found himself pushed back to the top of the stairs, tired but still full of fire. His mind drifted briefly to thoughts of his father, and not for the first time, Luke wondered if his father would have been proud of him.

“You have learned much, young one.” Vader's voice almost sounded… complementary but Luke knew he was only imagining that.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises.” Luke quipped back, determined not to let his father’s murderer get the upper hand. He thrust his lightsaber forward, aiming for the blinking control panel on Vader’s chest. The Dark Lord was quicker however. With a quick flick of his wrist, Luke’s lightsaber was sent out of his hand. Luke found himself practically kneeling at Vader’s feet, staring up at the crimson blade hovering in the air between them.

But Vader made no move to strike. Instead, he deactivated his lightsaber altogether. Luke quickly looked around for his saber but before he could even find it in the red-tinted darkness, it came shooting up and into Vader’s hand. He turned it over in his hands, like he was examining it. Luke felt a hot fire rise up within him but before he could yell at Vader for daring to touch his father’s lightsaber, the Dark Lord spoke.

“On Cymoon, you said that I killed your father.” Vader said plainly. Luke blinked up at the Dark Lord, unsure of this sudden turn of events. Vader spoke again.

“I suppose, Obi-Wan told you that.” Vader said, almost… sadly. Luke wondered briefly if he had taken one to many hits to the head in recent years.

“He did.” Luke said finally. “He said you betrayed him and murdered him.” The ire in Luke’s voice was sharp but Vader didn’t seem fazed. What was the anger of one pseudo-Jedi youngling against a Sith Lord’s?

“Obi-Wan did always have a complicated relationship with the truth, especially when it suited his needs.” Vader commented, continuing to turn the saber over in his hands.

Despite the sudden lack of hostility, Luke felt like he couldn’t move, couldn’t get away, no matter how much he may have wanted to run. His heart started beating hard in his chest but he remained crouched right before Vader.

“Complicated how?” Luke asked after a long silence. He didn’t really want to have a conversation with Vader about his slain mentor but the silence was starting to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“How did Obi-Wan get your father’s lightsaber?” Vader asked at last. Luke blinked in confusion for a moment.

“What?”

“If I supposedly killed your father, how did Obi-Wan get his lightsaber?” Vader said. The tension in Luke continued to rise.

“I don’t know.” Luke said plainly. He felt like the galaxy was spinning off its axis. This was not how he’d anticipated this duel going.

“Presumably, if I had killed your father, he would have had his lightsaber with him at the time. Perhaps we would have dueled to the death. If that was the case, how then did Kenobi acquire this lightsaber in order to give it to you?” Vader gestured with the unlit blade as he spoke. Luke remained in his place on the floor, unable to move.

“Or did Kenobi leave out those details as well? He seems to have given you very little details on how your father died. Curious, since he intended to use you as a weapon to take out your father’s supposed murderer.”

Luke’s eyes were wide and his mind spun. Ben had… The young rebel tried desperately to remember all that his mentor had told him about his father but the details were scant and Luke suddenly felt like Ben Kenobi had been a stranger to him.

“So you didn’t kill my father?” Luke said after several silent minutes.

“No, young one, I did not.” Vader said in his deep baritone.

“Who did?” Luke asked. He felt the Force shift sharply.

“No one killed your father, Luke.” The Force swelled up now and Luke felt faint as Vader took a step forward.

“I am your father.”

Luke fell back, just barely catching himself from falling down the stairs. Vader came no further as he felt his son’s mind spin.

“That’s impossible.” Luke said at last, his breathing shaky. He turned his head to look his F- Vader in the eyes. From his place on the floor, Luke suddenly felt very small.

“It would not have suited Kenobi’s ends to tell you the truth.” Another moment of silence.

“But Anakin Skywalker was my father.” The boy whimpered, he was getting emotional now. Vader knelt down slowly so that he was no longer towering over Luke like a living gargoyle and placed his old lightsaber on the floor between them.

“That name no longer has any meaning for me. But when I made this lightsaber, it was what I was called.”

Luke seemed to think that over for a moment before looking up again.

“That’s why you’ve been chasing me… the bounty said alive only…” His words drifted off. “But on Cymoon, you almost killed me.” The statement might not have been a question but Vader answered it anyway.

“I did not know then. I believed you dead before you were even born.” Vader said with something close to reverence. Luke’s eyes scanned back and forth like his mind was puzzling pieces together but too many were missing. His shoulders sagged after a long moment and he pulled his knees up to his chest. The only person with all the pieces, was the same man who had been hunting him for three years… and also the man who he’d once dreamed would come back to take him to see the stars. Luke was suddenly very aware of how tired he was.

“I don’t know what to do.” Luke admitted shakily.

Vader stood smoothly and extended a gloved hand out to Luke.

“Come with me.”

Luke looked at the hand and thought about all that those three words really meant. He reached up in spite of himself and took his father’s hand.

Thanks for reading! I’d love to know what you think.

Link to it on AO3 here.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #man it's been a long time since I posted #Luke Skywalker #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker #Obi-Wan Kenobi #bespin #The Empire Strikes Back #my fanfiction

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smutnug · 5 years

Text

Day 10: Surprise kiss

Owen Trevelyan had always been fascinated by magic: as a boy he pored over illustrations of griffons and dragons, devouring folk tales of witches and enchantments and talking animals.

"You shouldn't let him read that nonsense," his mother said. "He'll turn into a mage."

Bann Trevelyan peered over his spectacles - the finest in dwarven craftsmanship - and blinked mildly. "I'm quite sure that's not how it works."

"How will he ever be a templar? He won't know which side he's on."

"I don't think it's supposed to be about sides, dear."

Lady Trevelyan sniffed. "I see where he gets it from."

Thankfully for his mother, Owen's sense of adventure extended to a love of swords and rough-and-tumble play. A dutiful but indifferent Andrastian, he was considered too old at ten for templar training, but utterly unsuited to clerical work.

"We'll send him out to squire. It will do him good to be around boys his own age."

Owen had been a late addition: a surprise, or an accident, depending on his mother's mood. She looked at her youngest son doubtfully. "I just don't want him to be bullied."

"Stop bullying him then, dear." The bann returned to his book.

Squiring agreed with Owen exceptionally well.

"The duke is happy with his progress," said Bann Trevelyan over his morning letters. "Very popular with the other boys, evidently."

Lady Trevelyan choked genteelly on her tea. "Not too popular, I hope."

Her husband peered over his spectacles. "You're a hard woman to please, dear."

Owen returned home to Ostwick in his eighteenth year. Described variously as strapping, honourable to a fault, affable, and a host of other complimentary things, he had distinguished himself in tourneys and skirmishes alike. He was, everyone agreed, a credit to his house.

Lady Trevelyan looked her son up and down. Tall and broad with a mop of straw-coloured hair and a radiant grin, he was already gaining a reputation as the handsomest youth in Ostwick.

She pursed her lips.

They held a ball to celebrate his homecoming. Owen danced every dance, no more than once or twice with the same partner. People seemed drawn to him.

"I wish you wouldn't lead those poor girls on, Owen."

He looked down at his mother with a mock-wounded expression. "What makes you think I'm leading them on, mother dear?"

"Oh, Owen."

He laughed and kissed her on the cheek, and she couldn't help but smile.

Owen Trevelyan loved magic. He walked the streets of Haven with a grin, his cheeks ruddied by the cold. Mages, real mages, everywhere he looked! Some were half-starved, some surly, many too nervous to look anyone in the eye, but to him they may as well have been exotic butterflies.

"Is it true a dragon used to live here?" he asked the tavern keeper.

"That's what they say, ser," she said with a shrug.

"How wonderful!" he said, and tipped her richly enough that she forgave him for being a bit strange, and wondered if he were single.

He was. Lady Trevelyan had farewelled him with a kiss, a thick woollen scarf, and a murmured, perhaps you'll meet a nice man over there.

For you, mother, I'll try, he'd answered, and swept her into a bone-crushing hug.

He hadn't spent the past five years idle. He'd served in his father's guard, with such distinction that any suggestions of nepotism were quickly abandoned. He'd helped strengthen trade agreements with Markham and Ansburg, and turned down half a dozen marriage contracts with such charm that nobody felt any offense (but more than one young lady was left a touch disappointed). He bested some of the best fighters in the Free Marches at tourney. And, of course, he read.

None of this entirely prepared him for what was to come.

Owen Trevelyan loved magic - that didn't mean he wanted a mysterious, sometimes bad-humoured magical mark embedded in his hand. He loved the idea of dragons, but there was nothing exciting about having one attack his home. The novelty of demons wore off at his first encounter.

He loved magic; and while it didn't cross into fetish, it wouldn't be true to say he'd never thought of having a mage lover. There was a certain exotic, star-crossed romance to it after all.

Dorian, though…Dorian was something else altogether.

Smooth, flashy, witty…beautiful. Every visible inch seemed perfectly sculpted. His voice was richer than mead, his skin almost seemed to glow with warmth. For all Owen's romanticism, he didn't believe in love at first sight. But his first sight of Dorian…well, it took a man a while to recover from something like that.

Every ounce of charm Owen could throw at him was returned with double the force. He slashed, he parried, but it seemed Dorian didn't even know he was part of a duel. The mage shielded himself in sarcasm and cast wit like fireballs, all without so much as a sheen of sweat forming on his perfect brow.

A lesser man might have given up. Not Owen Trevelyan. He believed in magic.

"New books?" Dorian exclaimed. "Just when I thought my brain was about to wither and die."

"Our budget has allowed for some arcane study," Owen said, nearly dropping an armful of priceless tomes.

"Stop right there," Dorian ordered, "and let me help you. Why?"

"The advisors thought it might help me to have more knowledge of magical…things. I was hoping you might help me choose some good starting material?"

His eyes lit up like a glutton at a feast. "If you promise to take better care of them. I absolutely forbid you to carry more than three at a time."

"As you wish," Owen said with a winning smile.

"Dorian." Owen slid into a seat at the Herald's Rest. "I've been meaning to ask you - just how closely related are we?"

The mage took a sip of his drink, wrinkling his nose in elegant disgust. "I'd hardly say closely. Barely at all, and even then only by marriage."

"Oh. Good."

"Good?" Dorian swivelled in his chair. "I suppose you're right. The shame of being linked to a Tevinter mage, and all that."

"Dorian." Owen drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "I've travelled, you know. I've fought in battles. I've made love. I know you think I'm some over-excited puppy, but I want you to take me seriously."

"Where did this come from? I do take you seriously, dear boy."

"Dorian," he said a third time. "I'd like you to take me seriously. Because I take you seriously." Rising from his chair, he gave Dorian a backslap that soaked his mustaches in sour wine. "Good talking to you."

When the Inquisitor had gone, Sera stuck her head over the railing.

"Oi!" she called. "You, Dorian, are a frigging idiot."

Owen found Dorian leaning against the wall of the Gull and Lantern, staring at his finely tailored boots.

"I suppose you think I should forgive him?"

He joined him, tilting his face towards the sun. "I think it's up to you. Say the word and we'll leave now, and I'll never talk of it again if you don't want me to."

"But…?"

"But if you want to talk, even to say goodbye, I'll wait here."

Dorian looked at him for a long moment, then clasped his arm. "I won't be long."

"As long as you want."

"Thank you," he said softly, and straightened his spine. Then he opened the tavern door, and closed it quietly behind him.

The kiss came as a surprise to nobody but Dorian.

"You have to fight for what's in your heart," he said, and Owen couldn't help but take those two steps and kiss him.

The setting was perfect: Dorian's little corner of the library, filtered afternoon light streaming through the windows. Softer than Owen had dreamed of, gentler (although harder kisses were to come, later; rough, savage, stolen-in-the-midst-of-wrestling kisses) and sweeter by far than his imagination could conjure. He captured Dorian's small sound of surprise with his mouth, then Dorian caught his bottom lip carefully between his teeth, and only one word crystallised in the back of his mind as they melted together, two halves finally whole.

Magic.

#14dalovers #dorian x trevelyan #surprise kiss #nug writes #Owen trevelyan

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impracticaldemon · 5 years

Text

The Other Man’s Princess

Ikesen fanfiction by impracticaldemon ~ for acrispyapple, with thanks and best wishes, and for Vespe, Yuuki, and all my other Kenshin-fan friends!

Words: 5800 [Note: about Kenshin, based on an incident in Masamune’s route]

Coming soon to AO3 and FFnet [but tumblr isn’t kind to links]

Summary: Kenshin chooses not to kill Date Masamune when the enemy warlord is saved from imminent disaster by the unexpected arrival of the rumoured Oda princess. The princess’ willingness to protect Date at all costs--and the fact that his enemy is obviously fighting injured--ruins the whole thing. But what if somebody else wants to save Kenshin?

~~~~~

The Other Man’s Princess

Anna had known it would be a difficult battle. She might not have the years of experience of the men and women around her, but she was observant, and it hadn’t taken her long to learn to read the signs. At first, she’d only been able to gauge a situation by looking at the local inhabitants as a whole: were the men cocky, serious, or grim? were the women resigned, tight-lipped, or overtly anxious? After almost a year in the Sengoku—and a hard, dangerous year it had been, until recently—she was much better at understanding the nuances of war, and she noticed more subtle tells, such as increases in the price of food, and fewer merchants in the marketplace.

Sasuke arrived back at the castle first, as he usually did, to bring news to the reserve commander, Kurata, and to her. She’d noticed he was troubled almost immediately, even though his first message was that Kenshin was safe, and that the troops were withdrawing in good order. Apparently, the Oda had been able to bring up their reinforcements faster than expected, which meant abandoning the conflict for another day, when the Uesugi-Takeda forces had grown stronger.

“It was pretty bad out there,” Sasuke told her confidentially, once he’d given his formal report. “I’m glad Yukimura decided to retreat. Lord Kenshin was—well, he was as unstoppable as ever—but the joint Date-Tokugawa cavalry had already targeted him once, and they would have gone after him again once the rest of the Oda forces arrived.” His gaze became unfocussed for a moment, and he sighed. “I would never say this to my employer—or to Yukimura—but it was pretty amazing seeing Tokugawa Ieyasu and Toyotomi Hideyoshi on the battlefield together, near the height of their powers.”

Normally, Anna would have smiled knowingly at his absurd-but-genuine adoration of the Sengoku superstars, but she could tell that he was worried about Kenshin, and that made her impatient. She waved a hand in front of Sasuke’s face.

“Hey—ninja boy!” She raised both eyebrows, and gave him a very direct, ‘stop-stalling’ look. “I know you have to get back there—you always do—so you might as well tell me what you didn’t tell Lord Kurata.”

His eyes slid sideways for a moment, as they usually did when he was thinking, or embarrassed, or both, but they returned shortly to meet hers. Sasuke’s expression rarely changed much, but she’d learned to tell the difference between excited-stoic and worried-stoic. This was definitely the latter.

“At some point during the battle, Lord Kenshin took off on his own, as he does, and he and Date Masamune ended up in a one-on-one duel—which is actually very rare, despite what you see in movies and stage plays.” He paused, caught Anna’s expression, and hurried on. “Anyway, I missed what led up to it, but I was in time to see the conclusion.”

“You were hurrying to Kenshin’s side to protect him, of course. I’m sure it wasn’t just an opportunity to see two of the great swordsmen of the era in personal combat.” Mentally, she face-palmed—hadn’t she just told Sasuke to skip the fanboy stuff? It had to be nerves.

“…There may have been an element of extreme personal excitement—after all, Uesugi Kenshin and Date Masamune never met like that in our timeline.”

“Sure—go on.”

“Just as I was approaching, Lord Kenshin disarmed Lord Masamune, who appeared to be injured. It looked like Lord Kenshin was going to kill Lord Masamune, but then an Oda soldier suddenly jumped out of the grass waving a rifle, and distracted Lord Kenshin by yelling at him to stop. As you probably know, Lord Kenshin isn’t easy to distract when he’s fighting—or not for very long. But this time he stopped cold, because the voice was clearly a woman’s.”

“A woman? Nobody ever lets me go off to Kenshin’s battles—not that I want to be in them.”

They exchanged a look. Sasuke shrugged semi-apologetically; Anna shrugged in acceptance. Kenshin would never want her anywhere near such a battle, and she knew enough, after two months of getting closer to him, not to push him too far when it came to her safety. He was a wonderful, caring, fascinating—devastatingly beautiful—man, but he had wounds that she was still figuring out how to heal. Patience and steadfastness were what he needed, and once she’d decided he was worth it—very early on, in fact—she’d thrown herself into the joy and the trials of being there for him.

~~~

She’d originally met Kenshin in a town about a day’s ride from Kasugayama. He’d rescued her from two brutish ronin who were intent on dragging her off as punishment for standing up to them on behalf of an elderly shopkeeper. Kenshin had refused her thanks, but although he’d seemed cold—even rude—there’d been a quality about him, beyond his obvious beauty, that had drawn her in. When he’d saved her from the same two men just a few days later, he’d criticized her survival skills, but he’d calmly walked her home, and he’d slowed his pace to hers. More than that, he’d told her to be herself with the people around her, something she’d somehow forgotten how to do since being dumped into the Sengoku three months before. It had been exactly the advice she’d needed, and she’d been grateful.

Not long after, she’d met Sasuke, who’d been shocked to discover another “future person” so close by. He’d offered to bring her to Kasugayama, where it was safer and more comfortable, and she’d had little reason to refuse, and at least one good reason to accept. In fact, she hadn’t been altogether surprised to discover that Kenshin had arranged for Sasuke to check up on her in the first place. Moreover, Kenshin hadn’t seemed to mind Sasuke’s seemingly abrupt decision to bring her to the castle, despite his reputation as a woman-hater. She and Kenshin had spoken often since then, although Kenshin always came up with specific reasons for seeking her out, much to the amusement of his ally Takeda Shingen.

~~~

“…Yes, it was definitely a woman, based on the voice and hair. She was pretty well disguised by her armour, but”—Sasuke stopped and held out a hand, as if to say, I’m so sorry, please don’t kill me—“she was awfully short for a samurai.”

He looked at her hopefully. It took her a long moment to catch the reference, but then she groaned.

“Star Wars, Sasuke? Really? And that’s a really obscure reference. You’re lucky my undergrad was science, honestly.”

“The original Star Wars movies are a key part of geek culture, sorry. I guess she kind of reminded me of Princess Leia. Though I suppose a Lord of the Rings reference would be more appropriate—you know, ‘I am no man!’ and all that.”

“Sasuke—”

“Lord Kenshin just stared at the woman, totally ignoring Date Masamune. But she—well, she tried to shoot him.”

“But—you said he was fine! Or did she miss? I’m impressed she could shoot one of those old matchlocks, actually.” And I am not feeling competitive. At all.

“Lord Masamune rushed in and somehow managed to deflect the shot—actually knocked the barrel of the rifle up. He’s fast.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he protect his enemy? Was it some kind of dumb chauvinist thing? You know—'can’t let a woman kill my enemy for me’?”

Sasuke gave her an odd look. “Well…” he said slowly, as though feeling out his words, “you know how I said there’s a person like us living in Azuchi?”

“Yes… You mean it was her?! And she tried to protect Date Masamune by shooting Kenshin?!”

Sasuke looked as unemotional as usual, but she was pretty sure it was a façade.

“It was an interesting event from a time-travel, or alternate universe, perspective. A person who shouldn’t be there tries to kill a man who should already be dead—er, sorry if that was tactless.” Sasuke blinked apologetically, but added, “And she does it for the sake of a man who died five hundred years before she was born. You can imagine how I felt.”

“No. No, I really don’t think I can. What happened next?”

“I think Lord Kenshin was… very disturbed… by the fact that there was a woman there in front of him, clearly prepared to kill, and also, well…”

“Prepared to die?”

“Yes.”

All at once, Anna could imagine how the strange scenario must have affected Kenshin, and it suddenly became far more important to see him—to reassure him—than to hear all the details. Especially with Sasuke’s unique editorial commentary. No matter how bizarre it was that another time-traveller had tried to kill the man Anna loved, during a battle that had never taken place in Anna’s—or the other woman’s—own history, the important thing was that Kenshin was probably hurting.

“Okay, just give me the gist of the rest, Sasuke.”

“Lord Masamune said he was ready to keep fighting, but Lord Kenshin put his sword away and walked off. He said the fight wasn’t fun anymore, so he was letting them go. I didn’t want to make things more tense, so I didn’t intrude. Not that I left him alone, of course. I made sure somebody brought him a horse. But… he had that smile.”

“So Kenshin’s on his way home right now?”

“Yes. This all happened yesterday. I left mid-afternoon to report back here. I thought… I thought you might want to know about it ahead of time.”

“Yes, good—thank you, Sasuke.” It came out sounding abrupt, so she tried again. “I mean it: thank you. You’re a good friend, and an amazing ninja.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Your friendly neighbourhood spider-ninja.”

The words sounded oddly lonely, instead of cheerful, but she let it go. She had reviewed her options, and made her decision. “I’m going with you, Sasuke. Don’t bother to argue.”

“…He’s not hurt, Anna. I promise, if he needed medical help, I’d have told you.” Anna had medical training, and had been working hard to learn Sengoku-era medicine—although it consisted mostly of inefficient herb-lore, last-ditch surgery, and opium, from what she could see. At least Japanese doctors believed in cleanliness, unlike their European counterparts of the same century. And to be fair, a good doctor could diagnose and treat wounds, and set bones, and alleviate the effects of certain illnesses.

“I think he is hurt, and I think you know it.” She fixed him with what she hoped was a compelling stare. “Now wait for me right here—or better yet, find me a good horse. It will take me less than ten minutes to change and grab my bag. Got it?”

~~~

“You shouldn’t be here.” Kenshin’s voice was flat, and Anna winced a little at his tone.

She’d known—based on Sasuke’s story—that he’d probably be struggling, emotionally, but it was hard not to react when it felt as though he’d suddenly decided to ignore how close they’d become over many weeks of conversations, quiet evenings out on the engawa, and even occasional disagreements. He refused to admit it, but he was extremely protective, and they’d had to sort out some framework they could both live with, where he knew she was safe, and she didn’t feel stifled. That was a work in progress, obviously.

“I was worried about you,” she told him, letting her sincerity speak for itself. “I wanted to be beside you, so that I could see for myself that you weren’t hurt.”

“Why didn’t you stay where you were safe? I’ve told you how dangerous it is to travel right now. You should have listened to me.”

She could tell he couldn’t hear her—not properly—and instead of frustrating her, that settled her resolve to be patient and gentle. Once she’d set aside her hurt at her chilly reception, she’d seen the expression—the fractured look—that hovered behind Kenshin’s cool stare and irritated, dismissive words.

“As I told you, Sasuke was with me the whole time, Kenshin-sama. And I am always safest with you, wherever that is.”

Kenshin’s beautiful, mismatched eyes narrowed slightly, but they stopped moving restlessly around the room, and focussed on her face. That was better.

“I—that’s not the point. You should have waited for me.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wait. I wanted to see you. You’re important to me.” Anna stretched out a hand to him, and Kenshin automatically took it, then looked almost comically surprised by his action.

They were kneeling facing each other in Kenshin’s tent. Anna had dissuaded Sasuke from going in with her when they’d arrived, regardless of military protocol, and in spite of Sasuke’s evident determination to bear the brunt of Kenshin’s wrath. After a certain amount of argument, Sasuke had admitted that it would be pleasant not to face a sword at his throat the moment Kenshin took in Anna’s presence. Consequently, she and Kenshin were alone, which was for the best. Alone in the immediate sense, at least—there were thousands of soldiers in the camp around them.

Kenshin cleared his throat. She knew that he wanted to keep making his points about her safety, and about following orders, but he felt constrained by their joined hands, and by the comfort he took from her touch—something that he’d told her once, after enough sake to poison the ordinary man.

“…I suppose you’re here now. And at least you came straight to me, and are unharmed.” His gaze softened a little, but Anna didn’t relax her guard. He was no longer cold, or frowning, but his smile remained disquieting. “You know… If I can’t be sure that you’ll stay in the castle while I’m away, I may need to take better precautions to keep you safe.”

“I already feel safe,” Anna said immediately, working hard to keep her tone light, but firm.

“You aren’t always careful enough, Anna.” Kenshin suddenly extended his free hand to caress her cheek and jaw, catching her off-guard. Although he had once rested his head on her lap, and they often held hands lately—by strictly unspoken accord—this touch was new, and more deliberately intimate. It was also undeniably possessive.

“I appreciate your concern, Kenshin-sama,” Anna responded, as calmly as she could. She did her best to focus on the tricky situation with Kenshin’s emotions, rather than the rush of warmth that flowed outward from his hand. “However—”

“I sometimes wonder if I should lock you in your quarters, for your own protection. You can be reckless.” Both tone and expression were bright and brittle.

Anna managed not to react to the threatening words; she’d known that it was a risk to come out to meet him. Instead of pulling away, she resolutely set aside her fear of being locked up in favour of conveying how much she appreciated his touch. She covered Kenshin’s hand on her cheek with her own, and turned her face further into his palm.

“I know that it’s important for me to be careful,” she told him, “most of all when I’m not with you.”

Kenshin’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment of surprise—it obviously wasn’t the reaction he’d expected—sharpness gave way to interest, and a hint of amusement. His fingers on her face gentled and then stilled.

“Are you trying to persuade me that your journey here was undertaken with safety in mind? Because you are safer with me?” He stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, and she wished she could just relax and enjoy being—somehow—important to this very special man.

“I wouldn’t go that far…”

“No?” Kenshin leaned forward, so that their faces were almost touching. The humour had vanished from his two-coloured gaze. “That’s good… But you won’t promise to stay put. And a woman doesn’t belong on the battlefield.” His grip on her hand and face tightened again. “How can I make you understand?”

“I understand, Kenshin-sama.” She might not appreciate—or agree with—his declaration, but she also knew better than to take it at face value. Kenshin was trying to use a simple, obvious (to him) statement to express a complex fear. “I know you don’t want me to go onto a battlefield, and I agree that it would be too risky.” For now, anyway, she added silently to herself. Sometimes it was hard to wait patiently, not knowing how things were going, wondering if she could be helpful.

“You say you understand, but—”

Anna could almost see the struggle going on behind his ice-sculpture features. He knew, rationally, that she hadn’t been the woman on the battlefield when he was fighting Lord Masamune. But the sight of a woman in mortal danger had clearly opened old wounds. It made her sad to see him so obviously afraid, even when he expressed it as concern for her safety. He was fearless by nature, and immensely strong, but that just made it worse for him.

“I have never ventured onto a battlefield,” she assured him. More slowly, she added: “And—I won’t. Not unless you agree to it first.” She’d given it a lot of thought during the ride to the camp. It had been a struggle from the beginning to balance her modern views on freedom with the realities of life in feudal Japan. But she’d decided this was a choice she could give up, for Kenshin’s sake.

“Well, I don’t agree to it. And I won’t.” Kenshin’s words were forceful. She would have been irritated, if she didn’t understand him as well as she did now. “It would be foolish and pointless. I won’t allow you to put yourself in such danger.”

“I will accept your decision.”

“You have to.” He was torn between asserting his authority—the man was akin to a divine prince to his clan, after all—and seeking reassurance. Not that he was one to invoke his rank, or power, explicitly. It was just part of who he was. Anna sometimes challenged that assumption of authority, as it applied to her, but she understood it.

“I mean it, Kenshin-sama. I will not follow you onto a battlefield without your knowledge and agreement.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say permission. “You don’t have to force me to obey you. This is important to you, so I’ll let you decide.”

“Anna…”

“Yes?”

He remained silent, unable, or unwilling, to voice his thoughts. After a time, he seemed to reach a decision that satisfied him, and he smiled.

“I will take you home.”

“You’ll take me back to Kasugayama? I mean—now?” It was getting late; the sun had disappeared over an hour ago.

“It will be fine. I know the road well, and I can be back here well before dawn.”

“But…” This time it was Anna who was at a loss for words.

Kenshin withdrew his hands, although he paused to stroke her hair in a reassuring manner. Anna felt her heart thump almost painfully in her chest, and for just a moment she forgot how to breathe. Which was ridiculous! He affected her like this, more and more as time went on, but she could never decide what part of the attraction was his physical beauty, and what part was everything else—his integrity, his (constantly denied) kindness, his strange combination of strength and fragility. Or maybe she’d been truly lost when she’d come to believe that he needed her?

“We’ll just take one horse, to avoid being separated, or attacked.” The brisk, almost enthusiastic, statement brought her sharply back to earth.

“But, why do we have to go at all? You must be tired…” Not that he ever seemed tired after even the most gruelling battles. This time, though, she saw traces of strain.

“We’re not far from the castle, by horse. It’s much slower for the infantry, of course.” Kenshin regarded her intently, frowning a little. “Or are you tired after riding here? You can rest, and have tea, while I hear Sasuke’s report.” His expression changed when he mentioned Sasuke, and Anna suspected there would be swords involved. ‘To be expected,’ Sasuke had told her.

“Kenshin-sama. Isn’t there room for me in the camp? I thought it would be pleasant for you—for us—to see each other, even if you didn’t have much time to spare.”

Of course, she didn’t say that she had needed to make sure for herself that he was coping all right with his strange encounter with The Other Woman—the other time-traveller—who isn’t The Other Woman in any way, why did I even think that? Ugh! It was annoying to realize that there had been a twinge of jealousy in her sentiments toward a woman who might even be a friend, if they could ever meet. Or maybe I’m just worried that it isn’t me who’s special, and any woman from the future would be new and interesting?

“It’s better to return to the castle.” Now his tone was flat, and that caught her immediate attention. “I”—uncharacteristically, he seemed to change what he was going to say—“appreciate your effort in coming here.” Even though they weren’t touching, she could sense tension return to his body as fairness warred with instinct. “It wasn’t wise of you, but you were anxious. Women are emotional.”

As if you aren’t! Amazingly, she managed to keep that to herself. It was worth being patient if she could help. Kenshin had come to terms with her arrival relatively quickly, had even seemed reassured to have her near—for a short while. But now he wanted her back in the castle, and it might be more sensible to give in. Hopefully, he wasn’t serious about locking her up.

“If we’re going to go back, then I’d rather leave sooner than later.” Certain parts of her body wanted to protest the whole idea of getting back into the saddle, but she was starting to catch Kenshin’s restlessness. Or maybe they both wanted to be away from others for a while?

Kenshin nodded, relaxing, but he scrutinized her closely before rising to leave the tent. When Anna moved to follow him, he waved her back.

“You might as well rest a little. I have to talk to Sasuke either way, and it may take me some time to get away.”

“But I thought—”

“I won’t go far”—Anna was quite sure he wouldn’t—“so don’t worry. Get some rest.”

He spoke brusquely, and left the tent without looking back, but Anna was only briefly discomposed. She guessed that Kenshin had noticed her fatigue from the earlier ride, and was giving her an excuse to recover before starting back. Of course, he’d made it impossible to refuse.

They left an hour later. Sasuke saw them off, his face even more unreadable than usual in the gloom. He appeared to be uninjured. The moon was still low in the late summer sky, but approaching full; its light dimly illuminated the path they’d be taking through a rippling series of hills and valleys. There wasn’t much flat land in Japan, once you were away from the sea.

Kenshin had insisted that Anna ride with him for safety’s sake, but she hadn’t needed convincing. The rest had helped, but while Kenshin knew every part of this route, and rode as easily as he walked, she had no such knowledge, or skill. Privately, she thought that the danger of falling off her horse, or guiding it into a hole, far exceeded the chance of being attacked. She couldn’t imagine any bandits stupid enough to prey on the roads this close to Kasugayama. Besides, she’d come to be with Kenshin, so why wouldn’t she ride with him?

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you, Kenshin-sama.”

It wasn’t quite true, since she’d become unexpectedly self-conscious from the moment he’d lifted her into the saddle and seated himself behind her. His arms were warm around hers, and it was impossible not to be fully aware of his—taut, lean, muscled—body against her back. They both wore thin summer clothing, and despite Anna’s light haori, worn in deference to the damp night air, she felt as though they were practically skin-to-skin. She was glad she was facing mostly away from Kenshin.

“Do you always ride so stiffly? No wonder you were tired. Didn’t Sasuke teach you to ride?”

“Oh! No… I mean, yes, maybe that was it.”

Kenshin shifted, transferring the reins to one hand, and tightening his other arm around her. She tensed, and then gave up and settled back against his chest. How could she resist? She wondered if her heart-beat was as loud to Kenshin as it seemed to her. Probably not. Right?

“Are you sure you’re all right? You seem alarmed. There’s nothing to fear while you’re with me, and we have no need for haste, so I won’t push the horse.”

Or maybe he had super-human powers of observation, when he wasn’t focussed on other things. Looking down, she realized that his hand was wrapped carefully around hers, and his thumb was pressed to her racing pulse. Of course. So he had noticed her pounding heart-rate. While riding a battle-trained horse through the near-dark on a winding, hilly trail.

“I’m not alarmed. I’m not afraid of being attacked, I’m not afraid of falling off, and I’m not afraid that you’ll go too fast. You pretend it’s not true, but you are very considerate of me.”

He was loosening up as he rode, she could tell. She, on the other hand, was struggling to keep her cool. Kenshin’s voice carried warm breath past her ear as they rode, and it was yet another distraction to add to all the other pleasant-but-possibly-inappropriate distractions happening right now. She wondered, again, what he really thought of her.

“Is it considerate to make you ride through the night with me after you have just endured the same ride in the opposite direction?”

“Mm, okay, I’m not sure on that one, but if you’ll tell me why, then I can answer your question.”

“You can be very stubborn.”

“So can you.”

“…I’ve heard that before. I wish you wouldn’t quote Shingen at me. It’s annoying.”

He was ‘annoyed’ enough to tighten his grip on her, but it felt a lot more like a hug than anything bad. Anna realized that she’d be very okay with hugging him back, if they weren’t on horseback, on a difficult trail, in the middle of the night. Inadvertently, she sighed.

“What is it, Anna?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah.” His breath tickled her ear again, and then—and then—he softly kissed her temple.

“Kenshin!” Did she really squeak like a fangirl just there? Yes, yes, she did. Damn.

“Sasuke told you about the woman—Date’s woman—didn’t he?”

“Um—yes?” Context? Hello? Did you just move from kissing me to asking whether I knew about the other woman—no, the other time-traveller who just happened to be a woman? She was curious, irritated, and a little ‘glowy’ all at once.

“And that’s why you came to see me?”

“Yes… I suppose that’s true. I was worried.”

“There was no need to worry about me. Sasuke sometimes—frequently—oversteps his bounds.”

“I worry about you, Kenshin-sama. I care about what happens to you, and I think about what you’re doing. I wonder if you are all right.”

“I didn’t want you anywhere near the battlefield. Or in an armed camp full of men. Sasuke shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Okay, now what?

“Is that the answer to why we’re riding through the night like this when you should be back at camp overseeing your army?”

“There were a lot of wounded. Oda Nobunaga—and in this case, Date Masamune and Tokugawa Ieyasu—is a worthy opponent.”

She wanted to point out that he’d just changed the subject again, but over their time together she’d become adept at following his thoughts. It took an agile mind, and a certain intuition, but she could do it. Sometimes, she made him spell it out anyway, but it was so comfortable being with him like this that her inclination to push back was waning rapidly.

“You didn’t want me to insist on tending the wounded?”

“I didn’t want you wandering camp—it would be dangerous and inappropriate.”

Inappropriate? She wasn’t sure whether he meant that she might see, or hear, inappropriate things, or whether he was just being weirdly jealous. Come to think of it, he could mean both.

“I don’t think I would be in any danger in your camp, with you nearby,” she said, seriously. “But I travelled to the camp for the sole purpose of seeing you, and even if I didn’t like it, I would follow your instructions while at the camp.”

“She saved Date’s life, you know. I probably would have killed him before Tokugawa could get to him. Though he showed surprising stamina for a man who I suspect was badly wounded.” Kenshin’s assessment was ungrudging—he admired courage and strength in friend and foe alike. “I look forward to a proper fight in the future.”

“Setting aside your quest for a suitable opponent…” Anna leaned her head back more securely against Kenshin’s chest, and suppressed a sigh of contentment. “You know that I’d do a lot to save your life, right?”

Kenshin immediately tensed. “You promised—”

“But you have my word that I won’t chase you onto a battlefield.”

“Good. I don’t need you to. You’re a very strange woman—I shouldn’t have to make you promise not to subject yourself to… all that.”

“In exchange—”

“You’re trying to bargain with me?”

“I’m hoping you’ll hear me out.” She took the silence that followed as assent, if not happy assent. “I want you to promise you’ll live.”

“You what? That’s—” He stopped abruptly.

“I’m very sorry if I’ve upset you, Kenshin-sama.” She hadn’t wanted to. She’d much rather have ridden on without conflict. “But I care about what happens to you. It will make it easier for me to stay away from battles, or war camps, or whatever, if I know that you are doing your utmost to come back safe and sound.”

“You don’t need to worry. Nothing ever touches me.”

“Kenshin-sama… I trust you. So if you tell me that you will do your utmost to live, then I will believe it.” She’d try, anyway. But it would help a lot if she knew he cared enough to come back. She’d heard the whispers that he couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be killed, because he was the so-called God of War. It just made her more worried, since she’d already noticed a certain sad fatalism in Kenshin.

They rode in silence for several long minutes after that. Kenshin’s grip on her slowly relaxed, but remained strong enough to be reassuring. She found she had to keep pressing her lips together not to add to what she’d said—whether to cajole, or entreat, or just argue. Eventually, she heard Kenshin sigh, but gently, like a release of pent-up breath. He drew the horse to a careful stop, allowed the reins to loop over the pommel of the saddle, and wrapped both arms around Anna.

“I told Date Masamune that dying for love was the worst kind of foolishness. And it was both of them! She risked everything to be there—she’d already interposed herself between us once, earlier in the fight, although neither of us knew it. But Date was worse. He was losing, he’d just dropped his sword, and he still had the nerve to knock away his woman’s killing shot.”

“Bravado?” She’d suggested that before, but Kenshin hadn’t answered her. Right now she cared more about Kenshin talking to her, and holding her, than anything else, but she was still a little curious.

“No, worse. He didn’t want her to have to kill. He didn’t want it to change her. I didn’t hear all of it, but that was the gist.”

“I think that’s—” Anna stopped on the edge of saying that she thought it was very sweet. More than just sweet, it showed true caring and protectiveness.

“It was ridiculous. He endangered both of them by not letting her shoot. I had to let them go after that.”

“Of course you did.” Because he was a good man, and had too much integrity to pursue a fight under such circumstances. And probably because seeing the woman there shocked him. But either way, it was just like him to refrain from mindless killing, despite leaving an enemy commander alive.

“I wasn’t being kind. They took all the enjoyment out of the fight—both of them. …And I’d heard Date was a ruthless adversary, the kind of man who didn’t let sentiment come in the way of his duty!”

He sounded peeved, Anna thought. She had to smile. She hid her face so that he couldn’t accuse her to laughing at him. Then she felt a kiss on her hair—the first of several. Her body temperature seemed to rise with each kiss, and the way his hands were stroking her back. She didn’t protest when Kenshin finally lifted her face up to his and pressed his lips to hers. A hand slid into her hair, and their kiss deepened, becoming more passionate.

When it finally ended, they were both short of breath. Anna wondered if she looked as startled and—happy?—as Kenshin. Probably worse, she decided.

“You’ll stay safe?” He spoke almost too softly to hear.

“I’ll do everything I can to stay safe. How about you?” The moonlight turned his hair and eyes to silver; he looked almost otherworldly.

“I’ll—You know I’ll need to go on fighting?”

“Yes.” She wouldn’t debate the need, or whether it was personal, or duty.

“Yet you still want me to stay safe?”

“I want you to promise to keep yourself alive.”

“I can do that.”

“Then I will promise to stay as safe as possible, and to stay alive, for you.”

“Anna, you are—”

“Very strange?”

To her surprise, he laughed—she wasn’t sure she’d heard him laugh before.

“I was going to say stubborn. And hard to resist.” He stopped laughing, and bent to kiss her just below the ear, in a way that made her gasp. “Also, right now, I want you all for myself.” He kissed her jaw, and the corner of her mouth.

Anna hummed her agreement. That wasn’t a problem: she wanted Kenshin all to herself, as well. Really, this moonlight ride made perfect sense, now that she thought about it. She’d just have to count on Kenshin to keep her from falling off the horse.

[END]

A/Note: I hope you enjoyed this foray into the “okay, but what about Kenshin?” or “and in the background...” or “off-stage...” If you get a chance, let me know what you think!

Note 2: I didn’t tag anybody, because tumblr search isn’t good about *any* links anymore, including links to people on tumblr (eyeroll). I’m still trying to figure out a work-around for this!

#ikesen #ikesen fanfiction #uesugi kenshin #ikesen kenshin #imp writes #acrispyapple #drama and a bit of fluff #canon-based masamune's route

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xialing-gf · 6 years

Text

for the greater good (theseus x reader): chapter 2

requested by anonymous: could you make an imagine with Theseus Scamander where the reader’s an undercover Auror on Grindelwald’s side and her cover is blown when the Aurors try to arrest Grindelwald?

wc: 2508

read chapter 1 in the masterlist link in my bio! (links don’t work in my tags for some reason?)

“You know you’re going to have to talk about it,” Theseus steadily avoided his brother’s gaze as he focused his eyes on the hall in front of him. Being cold to Newt was normal but he never went as far as to attempt to completely ignore his younger brother. But then again, he had never had his heart crushed and stomped into a billion pieces and had those pieces smothered all over his reputation. The past few weeks had consisted of Theseus constantly struggling to justify all his actions, attempting to clean up his reputation after word spread around that the person he was dating turned out to be on Grindelwald’s side. What was even worse was that the person was an Auror, causing Aurors to be wary of each other, wondering who could be revealed as the next traitor.

“You can’t keep pretending that it isn’t there. If you talked about it, the problem might be easier to fix,” Newt reasoned, offering a quick smile to a confused-looking woman who passed them. The Ministry was oddly quiet which, with Newt’s inquisitive personality, was the worst possible combination. Of course, the Ministry had a reason to be so awfully silent after what they finally acquired. In fact, the reason why Newt came to the Ministry was to help with what the Ministry had at hand. Theseus tried to brush off the question by replying in a tight voice, “What problem?”

“Well, it’s not really a problem, er- more like a mistake? Whatever you want to call the situation you had gone through with that Auror that-” Newt cut himself off when Theseus glared at him angrily. He knew he was treading into dangerous waters by speaking against his older brother, but his desperation to help and curiosity got the best of him, “You know what I’m talking about. Why can’t you talk about it? Bottling it up won’t help and-”

“Okay, fine! Let’s talk about it! What is there to talk about? I messed up and now I have to deal with the consequences but let’s talk more about how utterly stupid I was to not notice,” Theseus stopped walking in order to fully express how annoyed he was at himself and Newt. Newt stayed silent for a bit, allowing his older brother to collect his thoughts before they continued on in a strained tension. It had been quite a while since he had those letters arranged to form a familiar name on his lips but Theseus gathered up the courage to finally say…

Your name. The words under the blank line simply were “Your name”. In your hands was an old, unfinished crossword puzzle done by your little brother. He never wrote his name in the name spaces on anything so you had to keep him alive in your memories by recalling his name whenever your hand brushed past the folded piece of paper tucked away in your watch’s hidden compartment. When you needed courage or felt lost, you always unfolded the paper, the crossword puzzle, and read it over, running your fingers over the worn words.

Your brother was only a child when he started the crossword. His handwriting was messy but with a little bit of effort, it was legible. It was the last possession you had to remember him by. A couple words scrawled in the puzzle were “bird”, “flower”, and “egg”. You vividly recalled how you sat by his side while he filled out the crossword in the dusty attic, hiding away from your parents. They would never approve of this piece of muggle “junk” that you snuck your brother. He had been so proud to be able to spell flower correctly and it was one of the few moments you were happily spending life with him.

“Y/n, we’re heading off. Are you joinin’ us?” Sally, another one of your fellow acolytes, barged in on you without much of a warning. You sharply turned your head, carefully folding up the paper while maintaining intimidating eye contact with Sally. Her confidence began to falter as you calmly stood up, still looking her dead in the eye as you affirmed in a cold voice, “Where to? What for? Is this another one of his spontaneous trips?”

“This time we’re paying a visit to the Ministry since we haven’t had much success in getting into the Ministry ever since you left. Grindelwald says they’ve got something of his that he needs. If you want to join us, we’re leaving in ten minutes,” Sally pursed her lips, obviously trying to not seem bothered by your chilly act. When her intrusive self finally decided to leave, you placed the crossword puzzle in your watch before joining the rest of the group in the living room. As Grindelwald outlined his plan (which was very vague as he specified that the only task people had to do was to keep the people at the Ministry dead or busy while he went to retrieve what he needed), everybody seemed to buzzing with energy. It had been weeks since the Obelisk incident and nothing exciting had happened since then.

Grindelwald apparated to the Ministry with a couple of other followers to clear the security coast before you and the other apparated there. The moment you apparated into the Ministry, the oddly familiar scent of paperwork and agony greeted you. From the panicked shouts and sounds of curses firing in the distance, you inferred that the fight had already begun. Even though you could’ve gone to attack any random member of the Ministry, there was one specific person you had in mind.

It was pretty easy to find him as there were a few places he would be at. Surely enough, you found him fighting off Telany, one of your least favorite fellow followers. You watched from afar as Telany was taken down easily before carefully stepping into his view, “Did you miss me?”

“Y/n?” Theseus turned around and when your eyes met his, the world stopped for a moment. Everything felt so peaceful as you immerse yourself in those stunning eyes. The peace was broken when he fired a spell that narrowly missed you. You reciprocated, firing back a curse that he dodged. The mess of feelings in your gut was strange as you’ve never felt love, anger, frustration, and desperation mixed into one mess of emotions.

“It’s good to see you too, darling,” You offered a thin smile as you both continued to duel, the echoes of the spells fired bouncing across empty hallways in the Ministry. Theseus’ expression of surprise now molded into one of anger. You knew that he blamed you for the soiling of his reputation and that he was frustrated that he fell for you. You couldn’t exactly blame him for feeling this way. He probably thought you never had feelings for him and that you only pretended to care for him to gain information.

“Y/n! Get over here now! He needs you!” Sally called from her location down the hall and you frustratedly fired a spell aimed at the clock behind Theseus. You had been beating around the bush with the duel since you wanted time to try to miraculously convince him to forgive you. As you ducked to avoid a spell Theseus fired, you took the effort to aim accurately at him, firing a spell to prevent him from following you.

“I’m on my way!” You shouted, sprinting down the halls with your wand clutched tightly in your hand. Although you were curious to find out why you were needed, a sinking feeling sank into your skin, an ominous aura began to settle into the area you were heading into. The room had dropped several degrees and you slowed your pace down to a walk when you saw Grindelwald standing in front of a slightly opened door.

“Y/n, my dear! I was wondering if you could talk our fellow friend into joining us. I know I should’ve warned you before coming here… but would you be willing to help?” Even though he seemed lenient in his words, you sensed that by ‘are you willing to help?’ he meant that you had to do it. As you peered into the room, the sinking feeling rose up into your mouth, causing you to almost vomit out of pure shock. The inside of the room was a disgustingly clean shade of white and curled up in the farthest corner of the chilly prison was a boy.

Grindelwald didn’t have to say what the boy was for you to know. Cautiously stepping into the room, you spoke in a soft voice, “Hey. Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help.”

The boy looked up from the ground, still gently rocking back forth, glaring at you suspiciously as he dryly stated, “That’s what they all say.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. See? I’m going to leave my wand right here,” The boy eyed your wand warily as you placed it down near the doorway, taking slow steps towards him. “What’s your name? I’m Y/n.”

“Credence,” The boy was still hugging his knees but his rigid form relaxed a bit as he took in your gentleness. He reminded you so much of your brother but you persisted through the pain of memories as you continued to approach him one step at a time.

“Hi Credence. I know you don’t trust me but I really want to help you. I knew somebody who was just like you,” Credence had stopped rocking back and forth and his loathing glare now transformed into one of mild interest. “We were really close. Well, he was my brother. He was an Obscurus just like you. Our parents were both wizards but my mother died when she fighting for the Ministry and my father swore to never practice magic again. He married a woman who despised wizardry so my brother and I weren’t allowed to use magic at home. I found places where I could practice in secret and tried to get my brother to come with me but he was too afraid of our parents to come.”

“My brother began to repress his abilities and it led him to become an Obscurus. He was able to control it at first but after a while, his outbursts were unexpected,” You were still taking it one step at a time, seeming to be making progress as you were more than halfway across from the door. As you continued to share your story, you felt more and more vulnerable than you had ever before but it was the only way to get Credence to trust you.

“One of his outbursts was more extreme than all the other ones and it resulted in… the destruction of a small city and our parents. Obviously, such an occurrence snagged the attention of the Ministry so they decided to pay my brother a visit. I was away, buying, well I guess more like stealing food from the local market so I had no idea that they had taken him until I got home. I found out from some neighbors that the Ministry stole him and rushed to the Ministry, hoping that I would be able to save him in time. When I got there, it was too late. They had already killed him,” The words were heavy on your tongue and dug the hole inside your heart a little deeper than it needed to be.

The painful moment of realization that hit you at full force when the wizards that were surrounding the room where your brother was refused to let you in. They didn’t let you see his body until you threatened to go to the muggle policemen to claim that they were abducting him without his well. His hand felt heavy and cold in yours as you knelt next to his dead body, too much pain and shock running through your brain to process what was happening.

“That’s why I joined Grindelwald’s movement for equality. I want to make sure people like you don’t get hurt ever again. If you join us, we’ll help you find who you are and protect you. I promise,” You looked Credence earnestly in the eye as you knelt down to meet his eyes, holding out a hand. “You don’t have to join us, of course. You can stay here in the Ministry and hope that the wizards will spare you or you can run away from here and be free to find who you are. The choice is yours.”

Credence inhaled a sharp breath, the cogs in his brain turning as he weighed the benefits and consequences of the possible options. You smiled warmly as he accepted your hand and helped him up, “You’ve made the right choice. Thank you.”

You carefully guided him out the door of the cell, making sure you didn’t invade his personal bubble while still maintaining a steady hold on his hand. It was almost as he was your little brother and you were walking with him down the streets clustered with people, hoping he wouldn’t let the monster loose in the middle of the crowd.

Grindelwald grinned signaling to the other Aurors to disapparate. He motioned for you to stay and you cautiously handed Credence over to another one of the acolytes, giving him a comforting glance to reassure him that he was in safe hands. You turned around, realizing that Grindelwald had established a magical bubble around the disapparating wizards and outside the bubble was a group of Aurors, frantically firing spells that didn’t even come close to penetrating the bubble. Out of those couple Aurors, you noted that Theseus and his infamous brother he used to talk about to you was standing next to him. They really did look similar and Newt’s appearance was similar to that of his picture.

“Thank you Y/N for all your help. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Grindelwald smiled affectionately, patting you on the shoulder, causing you to feel a surge of pride. “But. unfortunately, you will longer be much of a use to me. You’ve done your part and this is where we say goodbye.”

Utterly shocked, you parted your lips in surprise, too stunned with betrayal to reply and he fired a spell that knocked you out of the bubble with intense force. Your wand flew out of your hand and hit an Auror in the face. A couple Aurors rushed to your sides, scrambling to claim you as loot. The world seemed to tilt as you watched Grindelwald disapparate, the bubble of magic disappearing along with him. The Aurors clamored in the background as to who to inform first while Theseus rushed over to you, trying to get to you while pushing aside all the other Aurors. He was just within arm’s length when he was suddenly whisked away by two Aurors, leaving you to serve as prey to the starving sharks of time.

chapter three is up now! go to the #samfb for more fantastic beasts fics and the previous chapter!

#samfb #theseus x reader #theseus scamander #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #fanfiction #x reader #newt scamander #imagine #grindelwald #crimes of grindelwald #harry potter #credence barebone #credence #theseus imagine #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander imagine

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haledamage · 5 years

Link

Pairing: Female Cousland/Nathaniel Howe

Story Summary: Cathain Cousland had been in love with Nathaniel Howe for as long as she can remember. It doesn’t take long after they reunite in Amaranthine to realize she still is.

Chapter Summary: Things didn’t stay okay. They never did.

Things didn’t stay okay. They never did.

Alistair and Loghain’s first meeting went explosively, spectacularly wrong to the point where Cait had to draw blades on both of them to keep them from dueling in the main hall. Only when she made it very clear that she’d send them away, Architect be damned, if they kept fighting did they begrudgingly settle down. They sat on opposite sides of the room, sullen and pouting like children, and didn’t say a word to her or each other.

"Do I need to assign guards to you to keep you from trying to kill my general?" she asked Alistair.

"No," he said petulantly. He sounded like he wanted to say 'yes' just to see what she'd do. "I'll behave."

She turned to Loghain. "Do I need to assign guards to you to keep you from trying to kill your son-in-law?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it," Alistair muttered.

"Alistair Theirin!"

"Fine!" He glared at her. She wasn't intimidated by it. She'd faced down scarier things than a surly king. "You're acting like you're my mother."

"Unsurprising, since you're acting like a child." She sighed and crossed her arms. She resisted the desire to start pulling her hair out in frustration. "I don't care right now if you don't like each other. If you can't work together, you can leave. I'm serious. The Architect is smart. If we're divided, it will pick us apart and throw all three of us on its blighted operating table."

Only after they'd left did she allow herself to vent a little, kicking a poor defenseless chair across the floor in frustration.

"You're going to give yourself gray hair if you don't relax," Anders said genially, feet propped up on the map table. "And we'll run out of places to sit."

"I'm already going gray," Cait said dourly. She pulled her hair back from her face so he could see the streaks of silver at her temples. They weren't visible with her short hair loose around her face; she had no idea how long they'd been there, but she was pretty sure she hadn't had them even a month ago. "What do you think? Distinguished?"

"Hmm, very dignified." He stepped into her path to stop her pacing. She hadn't even realized she'd started doing so. "Definitely hereditary and not at all stress induced."

He hugged her and she let him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Ser Pounce leaned out from his resting place in Anders' hood to sniff at her face. "Could go either way, actually. My parents both went gray young."

"Do you think they'll be all right?" Anders asked, looking at the open door and the empty hall beyond it.

Cait sighed and stepped away from him. "They won't have to be. They'll be in separate places when the fighting starts. I just need them to be civil until then. I don't have time to babysit them."

"Have Byron do it." He laughed at the skeptical look she gave him. "Really! Those two strapping examples of Ferelden masculinity wouldn't dare disappoint your mabari."

Cait stopped to think about it a moment. "Ugh. I hate to say it, but you're probably right."

She spoke to them each independently that evening. Alistair was still petulant and Loghain was still grumpy, but they were calmer now that they were separated and at least willing to talk to her.

They both looked properly guilty when she mentioned Anora, united in their love for her if nothing else. Cait made a note to write to the queen and ask how heavily she could leverage her pregnancy to get her husband and father to at least pretend to be polite. Anora was a practical woman; she wouldn't be above using her children as a bargaining chip for a little domestic peace.

She was still agitated that evening. The walls of the keep pressed too close, even opening the windows to let the night in didn't help. She paced her bedroom like a caged tiger.

Nathaniel sat at the desk and watched her go. "Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked gently. "You look like you could use some air."

It was tempting. It was a nice night, the breeze just cool enough to cut through the languid heat. But Cait shook her head. The likelihood of running into another person was too high; she didn't have the capacity for polite conversation right now.

"Do you want to spar?"

"No."

"Do you want to have sex on the map table in the war room?" he asked with a playful grin.

That got her to stop pacing, at least, which was probably the point. She doubted he actually meant it, but she considered it anyway. Eventually, she said, "A little bit. Maybe not right now."

Nate stood up and walked over to her. “Then what's on your mind?”

Cait pressed her face into his shoulder and breathed him in. Things always felt less dire when he held her, like the rest of the world and all the troubles in it fell away as long as they were together. “Do you want to get married?”

He froze, barely even breathing except for a tiny, startled “What?”

“I--” she started, then groaned and backed up enough to see his face. He stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “This isn’t how I meant to ask. I had plans. Dramatic declarations, speeches. Grand gestures. But I guess it’s out there now.”

Cait pulled out the small box she’d gotten from Wade that had been burning a hole in her pocket for days. It contained two matching rings of twined silverite and starmetal, shining bright blue and silver in the lantern light. Long, long before they’d ever been Grey Wardens, Cait had associated her and Nathaniel with blue and grey; in his pale blue eyes and her dark grey ones, in thunderstorms and summer twilight and the places they’d first found each other. “We talked once--recently, I guess, though Maker it feels like years since we left Kal’Hirol--about the future. And there’s no future for me that doesn’t have you in it. If the world opens up and swallows us whole, I want to be by your side while we dig our way out. I love you, Nathaniel. Marry me?”

Nathaniel started laughing. He wasn’t laughing at her, she knew. The look in his eyes was far too affectionate to be anything like a rejection, but Cait couldn’t figure out what she’d said that was so funny. She thought it had been a pretty good speech, all things considered.

Still laughing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box and presented it to her. It held a thin silverite band with beautiful, dusty blue stones set flush into the metal. It looked delicate, but it would likely hold up to anything she could put it through.

Cait stared at it incredulously. The ring stared back, glinting merrily. “Is this why you wanted to take a walk?” she asked, voice a stunned squeak.

“Yes.” Nate took the ring out of the box and twisted it in his fingers, letting it catch the light. “I was going to propose under your tree. Dramatic declarations, like you said. You have a habit of throwing off even my most thought out plans."

She could only stare in awe as he took her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. "Cathain Cousland, I have loved you my whole life and will do so for as long as I live. Will you marry me?"

Cait couldn’t help but start laughing, too. They collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles.

“What had you been planning to say before?” Nathaniel asked, leaning against the side of the bed and trying to catch his breath. “You said you hadn’t meant to ask yet.”

“I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter.” She leaned next to him and linked their hands together, holding them up to admire her ring. “There were probably easier ways to cheer me up, you know.”

“I know. I planned to ask regardless.” He kissed her forehead and she tilted her head back so he could kiss her lips as well. “Cheering you up was just a bonus.”

Cait climbed into his lap and leaned over him to kiss him properly, gentle and unhurried. “I bumped into Velanna when I was picking up the rings. She offered to do a Dalish bonding ceremony for us, if you wanted to… skip the formalities.”

“Tempting.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “That isn’t too quick for you? You weren’t even planning to get betrothed yet.”

“I’ve known I wanted to marry you since I was eleven. Long before I knew what all it meant. Before I convinced myself for a while that I wouldn’t be allowed to.” She touched his face, trailing her fingers along his jaw as she decided how honest to be. “I think things have been quiet too long. The Architect is going to make its move soon, I feel it. I was going to wait until after it was over. In case…”

“In case you didn’t survive it,” Nathaniel finished the sentence for her. He grabbed her face in his hands and held her eyes to his, gently demanding. “I meant it when I told you that it was never going to touch you again. I don’t care how smart or strong or old it is, it can’t have you. You are mine.”

“Nate…”

She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but it didn’t matter. He kissed her firmly, a familiar stubborn set to his jaw. “Can you imagine the looks on everyone’s faces tomorrow morning?” he growled against her lips. “The confusion from the nobles pouring in when you correct them and tell them to call you Arlessa Howe?”

She pushed away from him just a little. “Don’t you dare turn this into a challenge! This is our marriage we’re talking about, you can’t just provoke me into eloping!”

His smile was triumphant. “Maybe. But I did, didn’t I.”

“I’ll go get Velanna.”

-------

The first reports of darkspawn sightings arrived before breakfast the next day.

“It sounds like they were just scouts,” Loghain said as he handed Cait the report. She skimmed it as the others kept talking.

“That is what it looks like to me as well.” Leliana put a couple of smooth wooden coins on the map where the skirmishes happened, north of the Vigil and west of the city. “Small numbers, none of them spoke. They tried to avoid our soldiers as best they could.”

“I assume none were allowed to escape and report back,” Alistair said, reading over Cait’s shoulder. “I’ve been out of the loop a while, but I doubt you’re in the habit of sparing darkspawn.”

“No,” Nathaniel growled. “We aren’t. But it’s unlikely they got them all. Farmers and infantry wouldn’t be able to sense them to pick off shrieks or other spies. Whatever information the Architect is after, we have to assume it got it.”

“Such an optimist,” Alistair said wryly. “I can see why she likes you.”

“How many of ours were injured?” Cait asked, trying to keep them on subject.

“None.” Anders shook his head. “Not even a scratch or even signs of the taint.”

“Then they’re definitely the Architect’s people,” Sigrun said. She was standing on a chair to lean over the map. “Well, people is a strong word. You know what I mean. Darkspawn are swarmers. They ambush, kill or incapacitate the first target they see, then move on to the next.”

“I don’t like this,” Velanna said sourly. “If it wants to attack us, it should just do so and be done with it. I don’t like all this… subterfuge.”

“It’s hoping to catch us with our pants down,” Oghren said.

“No, I don’t think it is,” Cait said, putting the pieces together as she spoke. “If it wanted to do that, it could have done so any time in the last week, while I was still helpless.”

“Cait Cousland, helpless. That’ll be the day.” Anders laughed. “I think you and I have very different definitions of that word.”

“It’s Howe, actually,” Nathaniel said, very quietly. “Cait Howe.”

Cait fought to keep a grin off her face and failed spectacularly. “My point is, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that scouts are showing up only a day after an entire company of soldiers did.”

“It is testing you. Trying to find how much attention you are paying. Perhaps trying to draw you out,” Leliana said. As she spoke, she raised a delicate eyebrow in a second silent conversation.

Cait put her hands on the table deliberately, in answer to Leliana's silent question. The bard’s eyes dropped to the rings on her left hand. “So do I let it draw me out?”

“I don’t like the idea of you using yourself as bait.” Loghain said gruffly. His sharp eyes darted from Cait to Nathaniel and back. “I suspect you intend to do so anyway.”

“If you have a better suggestion, I am willing to listen.” She waited, but no one said anything. “Then bait it is.”

“If it’s looking for a response, then we should mobilize the army toward Amaranthine,” Nathaniel said. “That should draw it out of hiding, or at least force it to make its next move.”

“The Architect will not be with the main horde,” Zevran pointed out. “It is too smart for that.”

“Yes, but a small group could sneak around behind it,” said Sigrun. “Follow the trail of darkspawn back to their leader. Cut off the snake’s head. Figuratively speaking.”

Oghren chuckled. “Maybe literally, too, if we’re lucky.”

Cait picked up three of the wooden map marker coins, placed one on the keep, one on the city, and one in between. “Three groups, then. Loghain leading the Vigil’s company here. Varel will be with you, too, to help keep civilians in order and out of the way. Alistair will take the King’s Company to Amaranthine to protect the city. And I’ll take the fight to the Architect.”

She looked around the room, counting in her head. “We’ll split the rest of you between the three groups, I guess. Three with me, three to the city, and two more to help defend the keep. That way we’ve got at least a few Wardens in each place.”

“I’m going with you,” Nathaniel said in a voice that left no room for argument.

“So am I,” said Velanna. “I will learn what that thing has done with my sister.”

“I wish to help defend the city,” Justice declared.

Anders stared at the map. “I should stay here. Bring the wounded back to the Vigil and I’ll take care of them.”

“I will stay too,” Leliana said. “One more archer on the walls can make a big difference.”

“I’ll probably get to kill more darkspawn if I go with you, right, Cait?” Sigrun said with a grin. “Then I’ll be where the action is.”

“Then it is back to the city for me,” said Zevran.

“Heh heh, just like old times, eh?” Oghren said, elbowing Zev.

“Then that’s that,” Cait said firmly. “We’ll start at first light, unless something happens before then. Any other business before we break for the day?”

“I have an inquiry,” Anders said with a slow, sly grin.

“Does it have anything at all to do with the Architect?” Anders didn’t answer her and that was answer enough. “Does anyone have any on-topicconcerns?” She was met with a discordant chorus of ‘no, Commander’, so she sighed and added, “Ask your blighted question, Anders.”

“When’s the wedding?”

Cait didn't actually have an answer to that. She assumed they'd have one, even though it wasn't strictly necessary, some public ceremony full of family and friends and fancy clothes. But it hadn't come up during the whirlwind of activity last night.

She opened her mouth to say as much, but Nathaniel spoke first. "Three months from now. During the Harvest Festival."

Her eyes snapped to him in astonishment. It was such an impossibly romantic, perfect idea that she couldn't find the words to say so.

"It's only a formality," Velanna said plainly. “So was the ceremony last night, really. You humans do love your rituals.”

“That is... true, I suppose,” Cait said slowly. She was starting to get uncomfortable with all the eyes on her; this room was much too small for so much scrutiny. “Surprise?”

“It wasn’t intended to be a secret,” Nate said softly.

“It isn’t a secret.” She found his hand under the table and held it tightly. “I'm impulsive, not ashamed."

“No need to be defensive, Caitie,” Anders said, still grinning. “We're happy for you."

“Good,” she snapped. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Why was this more stressful than planning a war? “I know. I guess I'm just practicing for when I have to tell my brother.”

Nathaniel pulled her into a hug and she let him, trying to ignore the way everyone was watching them. “Fergus will be happy for us too. Eventually.”

Cait didn’t share his optimism. Nate and Fergus had been good friends once, but her brother held grudges even worse than she did. She didn’t think he’d ever be okay with her being a Howe.

She pushed gently away from her husband. She couldn’t stand all the scrutiny anymore. “Okay, enough. We've got work to do.”

-------

“If I don’t make it back, I want you to lead the Wardens.”

Loghain looked up from buckling his armor in place to study Cait where she stood by the door. He started to say something, but she spoke over him. “Nathaniel will take care of Amaranthine. He’s the arl now anyway, and it was always supposed to be his, but he hasn’t been a Warden long enough to be the commander.”

“He’s been one longer than you were when you got put in charge,” he said quietly.

“Extenuating circumstances,” she said lightly. No need to rehash exactly what those circumstances were. She stepped father into the room to help him with his armor. Plate armor was complicated enough that it needed a second pair of hands anyway, and it gave her an excuse not to look at him. “There’s still too much I don’t know. About the Architect, about whatever the Mother even is. I think the best I can hope for right now is mutually assured destruction.”

“Well, if you were my daughter--”

“Nope, try again,” Cait interrupted. She secured his breastplate in place and gave it an awkward little pat before finally looking up at him.

Loghain brushed her hair back from her face, a fatherly gesture no matter how much she tried to deny it. “If you were my sister coming to me for advice, my much, much younger sister, I would tell you that worrying about the future won’t change it. You were like this the night before we fought the archdemon, too.”

“I don’t do well when given time to think things over,” she said softly. “I get anxious and then I get sentimental.”

Loghain studied her in silence, keen eyes inscrutable. “You know, there was a time I thought the same thing about us that you do now about the Architect,” he said wryly. “That the only way the Landsmeet would end is with both of us in ashes. Yet here we are.”

“Here we are.” She couldn’t help but smile at that. “I don't expect I'll be standing in the Architect's bedroom a year from now pouring my heart out to it.”

He huffed a laugh. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Name one.”

“I'm going to be a grandfather.” A small, bemused smile crossed his face, making him look years younger. A glimpse at the young man Maric had known.

“Alistair told me.” Cait pressed her forehead to his. “Congratulations, Loghain.”

Loghain’s smile was gone as quick as it had come, twisting into something sour. ��He's going to poison that child against me.”

She shook her head. “Anora won't let him. I won't let him.”

“And if he does anyway?”

“Regicide worked out pretty well for you last time.”

Loghain laughed, probably against his better judgement. “Take care of yourself out there, Cait. Don’t let it get in your head and you’ll be fine. We can talk more when you return.”

“Careful, General. That sounded a lot like optimism,” Cait said with a grin. “But I guess stranger things have happened.”

“Name one.”

As if on cue, the door opened and Leliana stepped inside, armored and ready for war. She didn’t look surprised to find Cait there; she simply walked over and put an arm around both her and Loghain and leaned her head against theirs. They stayed that way for a while.

“You still have a little time before you leave,” Leliana said eventually. “You should spend it with your husband.”

“I know. I will. I was just making the rounds first, checking in on everyone.”

“You are doing the goodbye thing, like you did in Redcliffe. You like the drama. It was not necessary then and it is not necessary now,” Leliana’s smile was sweet but her hands were firm as she pushed Cait toward the door. “Go. Kiss your husband and sharpen your sword and kill your darkspawn. When you get back, we will do something fun, just you and me. Something that does not involve battle.”

Cait hoped she was right. She could use a little time away from war and doom for a while. She tried to hold onto the idea instead of letting dread overwhelm it. “I look forward to it.”

-------

She knew she should take Leliana’s advice and just go back to her room, but she made one more stop on the way, at the room that had until recently been Nathaniel’s and currently housed the king of Ferelden.

“Something on your mind?” Alistair asked from the doorway. He looked tired and drawn, even though it wasn’t even sunset yet. Cait wondered what was bothering him; she was curious if he’d actually tell her if she asked.

“I was just checking in. Wanted to make sure you don’t need anything before tomorrow. Making sure things were… okay.” She linked her hands behind her back to stop fretting at her sleeves.

“I’m fine, Cait. Ready to get this over with,” he said coolly, then he flinched. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean I don’t like waiting around.”

“Neither do I,” she said quietly. “I know what you mean.”

“That’s why you’re here, I reckon.”

She nodded slowly. “I just… Be careful tomorrow. Please.”

“Is that an order, Commander?” Alistair said dryly.

“Do I need to make it one?” Cait tilted her head, studying him curiously. “I know you aren't stupid, no matter how much you try to appear so. But these aren't your run of the mill darkspawn. If you treat them like it, you'll be overrun. If you see the Architect, just run. Don't engage it.”

“I guess it'd be too much to ask for you to take your own advice,” he said, but he smiled as he did. “You be careful, too.”

“Is that an order, Your Majesty?”

“Yes. Yes it is.” She thought he was done and was turning to leave when he added, “Thanks for inviting me darkspawn hunting, Caitie. It's been… nice, feeling like a Grey Warden again.”

“You could be one, you know. You always have a place here if you want it.” He wouldn’t take it, she knew. She could feel the canyon between them where their friendship had once been, before she’d destroyed it with four little words: ‘I accept your surrender.’ Cait knew they’d never move past that moment, not really. It was enough to have this, delicate as it was.

The look Alistair wore told her that he was thinking the same thing. He nodded. “I know. That's not my life anymore.” He smiled wryly. “You know, except for the nightmares. And the whole dying young thing. What can you do.”

“What if you could do something?” Cait asked before she could stop herself. The question had been on her mind with increasing frequency lately. “If you could purge the taint and be truly free of the Grey Wardens, would you?”

“Maybe,” he said after a long moment of consideration. “If it were possible. You don't think if it was, someone would have figured it out by now?”

“You’re probably right,” she said. It wasn’t the right time to push the subject; it was enough just to plant the seed, for now. “I’ll let you rest. Good luck tomorrow, Alistair.”

-------

Nathaniel's smile was warm and entirely too knowing when Cait finally returned to their bedroom. "Done avoiding me?"

“I'm not avoiding you, I'm avoiding me.” She sat down on the bed with a huff. “I figure if I walk fast enough and talk loud enough I can outrun my thoughts.”

"Did you?" he asked as he sat down next to her.

"Nope. Funny how they're always waiting whenever I get back.” She flopped back to lay on the bed and pulled him down with her. “I'm sorry we didn't get much of a honeymoon."

“We'll get a chance, once things settle down.”

“I hope so.” She was tired of feeling like this, hopeless and withdrawn. She wasn’t even worried about the coming battle, not really; she and her friends were ready, they were strong and so was their plan. Why couldn’t she shake this pall that had fallen over her? She said again, quietly, “I hope so. I could use a little peace and quiet.”

“We could see the world if you wanted,” Nate said softly. His hands found their way under her shirt. He trailed his fingers along her skin as if she were a map of the world, drifting to new locations as he spoke of them. “The Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. Serault, the city of glass. Antiva City. I can show you the places I used to frequent up north, in Ostwick and Starkhaven and Kirkwall.” He smiled at her, indulgent and adoring. “Whatever my wife desires.”

Cait curled her fingers into his long, dark hair. "And what if all she desires is you, husband?"

“Then she'll have me. In whatever way she pleases,” he growled. He leaned over her, deliberate and unhurried. “Can I kiss you, wife?”

"Please."

For the rest of the night, Nathaniel made a very compelling argument for keeping her mind in the present. It was hard to feel disheartened or morose with his hands on her skin and the taste of him on her lips and their mingled breathing filling the space between them. For a while, she didn’t have to think at all.

Sometime in the pre-dawn hours of the morning, as Nate slept warm and sated with his face pressed to her throat and his hand low over her belly, Cait’s thoughts finally crystalized. She was afraid. Not of dying like she’d been assuming she was; she’d been staring death in the eye for nearly two years now and, so far, it had always blinked first. She was scared of the half-remembered moments in the Architect’s laboratory, of being helpless and trapped, of the darkspawn winning and choosing that instead of killing her, they would use her.

Once the thought crossed her mind, it solidified into a more familiar, unyielding rage and settled in her chest like an old friend. The trauma and commotion of the last couple of weeks had made her take a little longer to get there, but she had now. The Architect and the Mother and whatever other blighted monsters waited for her didn’t know who they were messing with. She’d show them and leave their corpses on display as a warning for the next ones that tried. She was Warden-Commander Cathain Howe; it was time she started reminding the creatures of the dark about that. Starting with herself.

When she finally relented to sleep, Cait slept deep and dreamless. At dawn, Nate woke her with gentle kisses and loving words. They helped each other into their armor in silence, lingering while they could.

And then, together, they marched to war.

#nathaniel howe #cousland/nathaniel howe #dragon age #dragon age awakening #dragon age fic #cait cousland #cait/nate #rhi writes #something might be found #apparently I'm going to have bad headaches every weekend this summer just to delay me posting a new chapter #as a reward for patience I maaaaay have the first chapter of the other thing I'm writing up tonight or tomorrow #I have a lot of FEELINGS about this chapter #and I'm trying not to babble about them and spoil anything for people #but Cait and Nate are ADORABLE and I love them

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grindellore · 6 years

Text

fanfiction: and when he falls (chapter 1)

Fandom: Harry Potter | Fantastic Beasts Pairing: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald Characters: Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, Ariana Dumbledore, Bathilda Bagshot Rating: T

Summary: In the beginning, love was blossoming between an unearthly beautiful boy with radical ideas and a penchant for talking big and a spirited boy with a ready quill who was forced to take on the role as the head of his family far too early. In the end, there would be two broken hearts, and the beautiful boy would set out to change the world on his own while the spirited boy would be left behind with utterly destroyed family bonds and a well of guilt inside of him.

Also available on my AO3 (see the link in my profile).

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. —Cardinal Wolsey on the “state of man” in William Shakespeare’s All Is True (Henry VIII), 3.2.371-372

The umpteenth version of “those two months of insanity”, but I hope my take on them will still be an interesting read. Canon compliant up until Crimes of Grindelwald with two reservations: First, both of Grindelwald’s eyes are blue (as stated in the Harry Potter books and the first Fantastic Beasts script), just as my physical descriptions in general attempt to comply with the books (Dumbledore has elbow-length auburn hair and a wispy beard; Grindelwald shoulder-length, curly golden hair and—I quote from Deathly Hallows—“a Fred and George-ish air of triumphant trickery about him.”) Second, I hc Dumbledore lied when he said the next time they met (after that fateful duel in 1899) was their duel in 1945.

Chapter 1

Gellert Grindelwald was crouching in the grass in front of the mossy tombstone; positioned, perhaps, directly above the remains of the person interred under it. If there were still remains, that was. The stone was crumbling; all raw, weathered coarseness and sharp, jagged edges. Gellert saw it but he also needed to feel it under the tips of his fingers; needed to follow the traces of the nigh illegible name and, most importantly, the triangular mark underneath. He closed his eyes to eliminate one of his senses, focusing on the sensation of the engraved dents in the stone.

Yes, there was a circle inscribed in the triangle; a line, too, bisecting the angle directly under Ignotus Peverell’s name. They were faint, but they were definitely there.

Gellert drew a shaky breath. This, he thought. This was it. He had been right to visit his aunt in Godric’s Hollow; not just to draw upon her vast library and equally vast historical knowledge, but also for this. This grave, seemingly unremarkable save for its age.

“Are you a distant relative of the Peverell family?”

Gellert all but started at the sound of the deep voice. When he had entered the graveyard, he had been aware of the black cloaked boy, kneeling in front of another grave with a bouquet of white lilies in his hands and shielded from the world by the thick curtain of his flowing auburn hair, so long it was almost touching the ground. Gellert had decided not to greet him, reluctant to intrude on the silent conversation he might be holding with the person he was mourning or, perhaps, with God.

Now the auburn-haired boy was standing right next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a worn but elegant pair of high-heeled, buckled boots.

Gellert, who had always had a sense for first impressions, allowed his own golden curls to flow out of his face, looking up at the boy before he rose in a smooth motion. The other was half a head taller than Gellert, even subtracting the heels. His form was as thin and slender as his face, with a wispy beard, a long, even nose and faint freckles under the rims of bright, light blue eyes.

Right now, these eyes were staring at him, thunderstruck. Gellert knew that reaction. He had seen his own face in the mirror; all even features and angles and long, black lashes over eyes that were a slightly darker shade of blue than the other boy’s. His golden, shoulder-length locks gave him an unearthly, almost angelic appeal that made most people hold their breath for a second when they first saw him.

“Not to my knowledge,” Gellert said smoothly and added a dazzling smile to the rest of his striking outward appearance. He straightened, making himself as tall as possible as he extended a hand towards the boy. “Nice to meet you. I’m Gellert Grindelwald, Bathilda Bagshot’s great-nephew.” The other took his hand, but before he could say anything, Gellert added: “And you must be Albus Dumbledore. I saw photos of you on Aunt Batty’s chest of drawers. She told me a lot about you; said you’re brilliant: Head Boy, Prefect, Winner of the Barnabus Finkley Prize…”

“Stop it; stop it!” Albus chuckled, holding his palms away from his chest. “You’ll make my face turn as red as my hair if you continue like that!” This wasn’t the kind of reaction Gellert had expected. It made Albus’s eyes sparkle and softened his features; made them pleasant and appealing.

Now it was Gellert who was staring, if only for a split second. He had assumed Albus would be rather sullen; depressed maybe because he had just come from a grave—and not any grave but his mother’s, if he recalled correctly from the abundance of information his aunt had fed him at his arrival in Godric’s Hollow.

“My great aunt does have a tendency to talk quite a lot about other people, and it’s often things that are a bit embarrassing,” Gellert conceded with a smile. “Usually good things, though.”

“Bathilda is a charming lady,” Albus said with a genuine smile of his own. “A brilliant historian, too! I wish I had an aunt like her.”

“She’s wonderful even though she’s a bit nosy.” Gellert cracked a grin, registering with satisfaction that Albus held his breath again even though he managed not to stare this time. “Asked me if you wanted to come over for coffee and cake, too.—Well, more like tea and cake,” he corrected himself. “For teatime, anyway.”

Gellert silently cursed himself. He knew his English didn’t betray much of his accent even though it was a bit lilting, but now he had given himself away as a non-native speaker for good. Sure enough, Albus Dumbledore, the wizarding wunderkind, would catch on to it.

“Bathilda may be as English as one can get, but you’re not from here, aren’t you?” Albus asked, sure enough, furrowing his brow in curiosity.

“No, I’m from Sopron, actually,” Gellert admitted. “Or Ödenburg, if that rings more of a bell. It’s in Austria-Hungary. Part of the Kingdom of Hungary, to be precise. My mother’s Hungarian; the father’s Austrian.”

“Interesting,” Albus said, eyes sparkling. “I’m sorry I must decline Bathilda’s invitation, though,” he added, and the light was suddenly gone from his eyes, as if someone had extinguished a candle. Gellert felt a strange and uncalled-for desire to do or say something to see it again. “Please tell Bathilda I’d gladly have accepted her invitation, but I’m afraid I must take care of my younger sister. I left her alone for far too long already, whiling away time at the cemetery.”

Gellert was fairly sure spending time at a deceased family member’s grave couldn’t exactly be called whiling away said time, but he decided not to comment on it. There was something peculiar about this boy; he was young, but there was an air resembling that of an absent-minded professor about him. Gellert felt drawn to him without being able to explain what exactly it was that made Albus so fascinating; what made him think desperately of ways to convince him to accept Bathilda’s invitation after all.

“Why don’t you just bring your sister along to Aunt Batty?” was the most natural thing that came to his mind.

“I’m afraid my sister is very frail … shy and easily distressed when she meets new people…” Albus’s voice trailed off, seemingly unconvinced by his own line of reasoning. He looked to the ground rather than into Gellert’s eyes.

“Why don’t you just ask her if she feels ready to meet me?” Gellert suggested, hope rising in his chest, fluttering up just like, as he hoped, the sparkle in Albus’s eyes. “I’m assuming she already knows Aunt Batty?”

“She does,” Albus admitted, “but she has never been to her house … Besides, my brother will kill me if I take Ariana to Bathilda’s.” He sighed.

“Then make sure he won’t find out about it.” Gellert smirked mischievously. Albus gave him a surprised look. Then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Fine,” he said, already turning on his heels. “I’m going to ask her.”

Interesting, Gellert thought. Albus had to be fairly desperate to escape his household charges, judging from how fast he had changed his mind. Either that, or… But Gellert quickly pushed that train of thought out of his mind.

“…so lovely if he could finally bring little Ariana over!” Gellert heard his great aunt say from the kitchen. He was in her sitting room, leaning against the bow-fronted chest of drawers on which she kept photographs of people close to her in silver frames. There was a particularly English note to the room, with embroidered doilies and colourfully painted flowerpots and saucers everywhere, but also a note that was purely Bathilda: There were stacks of books all across the room, some of them with an opened book on top and at least one scribble in the margins of the opened pages.

Aunt Batty’s sitting room was a little chaotic, but Gellert supposed it was practical if you were a famous historian and needed to draw on written texts all the time for your own books and articles. Nonetheless, he was feeling a little out of place in his spotless black trousers and black-grey striped waistcoat; too monochrome for the vivid colours of the room.

“Gellert, did you hear me?” his great aunt interrupted his musings about the room. “Should I set the table for two or four; what do you think?”

“Better set it for four,” he called back. “I think it’s better to have too many rather than too less place settings on the table, even if they don’t come in the end.”

He watched as four flowery saucers materialised on the wooden table in the middle of the room, followed by matching teacups and plates. Then there was a knock at Aunt Batty’s front door, and his attention strayed from the self-setting table.

“I’m going to let them in!” he informed his great aunt, already on his way to answer the door.

“Thanks, darling!” he heard her call from the kitchen.

Remembering what Albus had told him about Ariana’s shyness around unknown people, he opened the door slowly and with gentleness. Albus, now wearing purple robes, stood in front of him. His sister was half hidden behind his back, ogling Gellert from under Albus’s arm.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he greeted them both, beaming at Albus in particular. Then he turned to Ariana, bowing down a little to be on eye level with her. She had to be about a head smaller than him, though it was difficult to tell because she wasn’t standing upright.

“You must be Albus’s sister Ariana,” he greeted her, extending a hand. “I’m Gellert, Bathilda’s great nephew.”

She only stared at him suspiciously, making no move to take his hand. He reacted by extending only his bent index finger to her. She tipped at it with her own index finger, making a sound that was almost like a chuckle. His smile broadened.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked her. “Aunt Batty has made her famous chocolate cake.” She nodded. Albus exchanged a relieved look with Gellert as he went inside with his sister.

“Albus!” Bathilda exclaimed, storming out of the kitchen with open arms. She was smaller than Ariana, but that didn’t stop her from hugging Albus with the protective fierceness of a mother hen; it hadn’t stopped her from hugging Gellert with equal fierceness at his arrival either. Albus stooped down and hugged her back, smiling quietly into the tight bun of her brown hair.

“And Ariana!” Bathilda took Ariana’s hands with gentleness, smiling fondly at her. “Would you like to help me a little in the kitchen? Tea is almost ready.” Ariana nodded, and Bathilda tugged her along.

Albus clearly wasn’t at Bathilda’s for the first time. He walked alongside Gellert to the sitting room, taking a seat in a chair next to the empty fireplace. Gellert sat down across the table, scrutinizing Albus’s outward appearance.

“Honestly,” he said, “you’re fitting into this room way better than I do. Though I must admit the colour of your robes jars a little with your hair colour…”

“Interesting,” Albus said completely unimpressed. “A male individual who understands the idea of matching colours. What rarity.” He paused for effect. “Which colour would suit my hair better, Gellert; what do you think?”

“Green,” Gellert said without thinking. He realised he had been led up the garden path the moment the words left his mouth.

“Well … green.” Sure enough, Albus conjured a green carnation out of thin air and attached it on his purple robes. He raised both eyebrows. “Better?”

Gellert stared at him, utterly lost for words—and he was never lost for words. His heart was thumping in his chest. Albus had to know what he was alluding to, but what was he implying? That he was…? That he thought Gellert was…?

The truly unsettling thing was that he would have been right. Gellert’s head was hurting. He hadn’t known he was so easy to see through.

Then again, maybe Albus hadn’t seen through him after all. Maybe he had been making a statement about himself, or maybe it just amused him to scandalise other people. But that was something he, Gellert, thought funny! Would a model pupil like Albus even do such a thing?

Suddenly a large chocolate cake appeared on the table and their cups were full of tea—herbal tea by the scent of it. Gellert was immediately distracted. He found even black tea just barely tolerable, but herbal tea… Gellert sighed inwardly. As Aunt Batty’s guest, he needed to drink what was served to him, grin and bear it.

“Ah, wonderful!” Albus exclaimed, apparently delighted by the sight of the chocolate cake. “May we help ourselves to a piece, Bathilda?”

“Of course!” Bathilda said, walking back into the sitting room with Ariana. She smiled at Albus. “After all, I know how much you enjoy my cakes.”

“Well, but first of all, we need to serve the ladies,” Albus said as he pulled his wand out of his robes and gave it a flick. Two impeccably cut pieces of cake separated from the whole of it and settled on the plates in front of Bathilda and Ariana. “Then the well-travelled guest.” Another piece went to Gellert’s plate. “And, finally, myself.” The piece of cake that made its way to Albus’s plate was of the exact shape and form as the other three. Gellert raised his eyebrows.

“Are you a believer in the distributive norm of equity?” he asked curiously. “Donum suum aequale sibi?”

“Much as I’d love to distribute sweets proportional to body height,” Albus said, corners of his mouth twitching, “I believe that would be rather impolite toward your aunt and my sister.” Gellert laughed.

“Well then, Gellert,” Bathilda said. “How do you like my cake?”

“Wait a minute, Aunt Batty!” Gellert replied, still giggling. “I need to take a bite first!”

“And you, dearie?” Bathilda turned to Albus. “What do you think?”

“It tastes delicious as always,” Albus said and took his first bite. Gellert blinked incredulously. Bathilda didn’t seem to have noticed; she left her chair and headed for the kitchen again, muttering something about forgotten cream.

“Did you just…” Gellert asked as soon as his great aunt was out of earshot, staring at Albus.

“So what if I did?” Albus put down his dessert fork. “Any other answer wouldn’t have been socially acceptable anyway, would it?” There was an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Besides, I know from experience that your great aunt makes the best pastries and cakes in the whole West Country of England!”

“Oh, thank you, dearie!” Bathilda, who reappeared with a full bowl of cream floating beside her in mid-air, had apparently only heard the last part of Albus’s declaration. Gellert hastened to take a bite of his piece of cake as well so he could make a statement about it based on evidence.

“Delicious!” he exclaimed after a pause. “There’s a lot of cocoa in this cake, isn’t it? It tastes luscious, almost like melted chocolate!”

“The recipe is a family secret.” Bathilda smiled at herself. “Then again, you are family, so perhaps I’ll hand it to you if you behave nicely during your stay here.” Gellert wanted to tell her how she was probably much better at baking than him anyway, but he didn’t even get to say a word.

“I wish I was part of your family too if that’s the only way to get this recipe!” Albus declared in such a heartfelt way that Ariana started to giggle again. Bathilda made eye contact with her.

“Sweetie, I think your brother is a bit silly today,” she declared. Ariana nodded eagerly, and soon all four of them were grinning. Then Bathilda seemed to remember something.

“Oh dear, I completely forgot to properly introduce you three!”

“It’s no problem, Auntie,” Gellert tried to calm her. “We already introduced ourselves to each other, and you told me so much about Albus...”

“But Albus hardly knows anything about you, darling!” Gellert winced.

“Please, Aunt Batty, let me tell him myself!” he asked, hating how desperate he sounded. He saw the scene right before his mind’s eye: Gellert, this is Albus, the star alumnus of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus, this is my good-for-nothing great nephew Gellert who was expelled from Durmstrang Institute. Would Albus still want to talk to him if he learnt right now that he...

“But I think your research project would benefit enormously if a bright boy like Albus could look into it!” Bathilda objected gently. Gellert felt dizzy with relief as he realised she wasn’t going to tell Albus about the disgraceful end of his schooling.

“A research project?” Albus piped up.

“Um, yes, it’s ... a bit difficult to explain.” Gellert blushed. Again, he saw the scene right before his eyes: Hello, I’m trying to find three magical artefacts from a children’s tale. Who was going to take him seriously? If only he could get enough time to explain ... preferably without Ariana and his great aunt present...

“It involves an enormous amount of historical research, which is why Gellert came to me in the first place,” Bathilda explained. “Unfortunately I’m pressed for time to finish a revised edition of my book on witchcraft trials at the moment; the publisher needs the final draft by the end of August. But you know your fair share of magical history as well, don’t you, dearie?”

“Oh, it would be an honour for me if I could help you!” Albus said eagerly, turning to Gellert.

“Perhaps we could go to my room and have a look at Aunt Batty’s books together?” Gellert suggested. “I’m sure she would love to stay with your sister in the meantime; wouldn’t you, Aunt Batty?”

“Of course, darling!” Bathilda beamed. “I need to work on my book this afternoon, but you enjoy knitting, don’t you, Ariana?” The girl nodded and smiled at her. “So we could sit together while I’m writing and you’re knitting,” Bathilda suggested. “How does that sound?”

“Lovely,” Ariana said quietly. It was the first word Gellert had heard her utter during the whole afternoon. She had a bright and pretty voice.

Then Gellert turned to Albus, watching his inward struggle with his promise to take care of his sister himself and the temptation to leave her in Bathilda’s care instead. Just like in the cemetery, Temptation won with ease.

“Thank you, Bathilda,” Albus said. “That’s very kind of you.” Then he gave Ariana a tentative smile. She smiled back, but neither of them said anything.

“Come with me?” Gellert asked before Albus might change his mind. Albus nodded and followed him to the stairs. They were steep and narrow, so Albus was quite close to him when he stopped right behind him. He took the green carnation from his purple robes, twirling it between his long fingers.

“Your reaction was quite satisfying,” he commented offhandedly.

“What?” Gellert’s hand clutched around the landing. His knuckles turned white.

“There, again,” Albus said. “You seem so confident and sure of your own beauty. I wanted to see if I could do or say something that would unsettle you.”

Gellert stared at Albus in bewilderment.

“As it turned out, I could.” Albus smiled. His eyes sparkled. Then he flicked his wand, and the green carnation vanished. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. That was not my intention.”

He knows. Gellert felt the pulse of his own heartbeat in his throat.

“Oh, you didn’t disturb me at all,” he said as smoothly as he could and resumed walking. But he was sure he hadn’t fooled Albus.

Notes:

Oscar Wilde popularised green carnations as a symbol for homosexual men in Victorian England. He was tried for “gross indecency with men” in 1895 and jailed in Reading Gaol from then until 1897. Putting a green carnation on one’s lapel would have been considered risqué, to say the least, in 1899.

My headcanon that Gellert is from Sopron is very, very similar to that of Kierkegarden. I developed it independently but we were apparently thinking along very similar lines of reasoning: Nurmengard, the prison Gellert Grindelwald built, is located in Austria; Szent Gellért is a patron saint of Hungary; and Grindelwald is a village in Switzerland, which could be a Habsburg reference since Habsburg Castle, the originating seat of Austria’s long-time ruling family, is also located in Switzerland. (If you want to read this headcanon in a little more detail, follow the #grindellore tag on my blog 😉) Choosing Sopron as the place Gellert was born seems pretty natural, too, considering it’s an old city that used to be part of the Kingdom of Hungary; its status as Hungarian, not Austrian, remained controversial right after WWI; it was bombed several times during WWII; and it was the site of the “Pan-European Picnic”, a peace demonstration in 1989.

In case anyone’s curious: I hc Albus as about 1.85m in this fic; Gellert is about 1.75m; Ariana is c. 1.50m. Albus is frequently described as tall and thin even by the standards of the early 1990s in the Harry Potter series; he would be huge for a human man by the standards of the late 1890s.

#grindeldore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #harry potter #fantastic beasts #fanfiction #my fanfiction #katemarley #grindellore

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sunaprincess7 · 6 years

Text

Isn’t it neat?

Hi everyone,

Another fic here - I know the James/Lily - Eric/Ariel thing has been done before but this is my take on it. Sorry if ‘you're all mermaid-ed out! Very little plot to this thing but I hope you all enjoy anyways :)

Summary: Lily Evans has been playing Ariel the mermaid at Disney World Orlando for six months. She's about to meet her new Prince Eric.

Rated T for language (also so much fluff and cheese you might perish!)

Fanfic link

AO3 link

“Does anyone have any primer?” Lily yelled to the dressing room behind her, “I’m out of my FX.”

“Here,” Mary yelled back amongst the throng of girls, chucking Lily her Smashbox version over the heads of Emmeline and Dorcas who both ducked.

“This’ll work?” Lily confirmed doubtfully, knowing that she didn’t really have any other option as she squirted the clear gel into her palm.

“Nothing is going to work in this heat, Lil,” Mary replied, now slathering her face with foundation. “But it’ll stay on for at least 6 hours. Then you might need to reapply.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hate this fucking dress,” Marlene, who was by far the most ready of any of them, moaned as she tugged the bright yellow taffeta monstrosity up around her hips.

“Hey, at least yours hasn’t got sleeves,” Dorcas retorted, from next to Lily, still in the process of pinning an auburn wig with pigtails onto her head.

“Oh please, you practically begged McGonagall to give you Anna!” Marlene replied, now pulling the dress up around her arms.

“It was winter then!” Dorcas said miserably, grabbing a matte mauve lipstick out of her makeup bag.

“Can we all just be happy that none of us is Minnie?” Mary inserted, in between violently attacking her face with a beauty blender.

The group of girls murmured in approval.

“Technically, you should be the happiest out of everyone, Lil,” Emmeline said, running a brush through her black wig as she puffed up the bun. “Sometimes they let you go out in a bikini.”

“Hey, none of you have ever worn that tail,” Lily replied, as she leaned into the mirror to draw on her eyebrows. “It’s heavy as hell. It might be worse than the dress. And they haven’t let me wear it in ages.”

“I think they figured out you were making all the dads a little too happy in that purple excuse for a bra,” Mary said lowly, causing their whole dressing room to laugh.

“Men are such trash,” Emmeline added.

“Speaking of trash, aren’t you meeting your new Eric today?” Marlene asked as she pulled white elbow gloves up over her arms.

“Later on tonight,” Lily said, “after the parade. And if he’s anything like the previous one, I think I might quit.”

Lily’s previous Eric had been the epitome of trash and was exactly who Marlene was referring to when she’d asked the question. Dave, or Prince Fuckboy as he was better known to the group, had spent his entire 6 months with the cast showing up late, being rude and, worst of all, sleeping his way through the Princess lineup.

After sleeping with Marlene, he’d made his way around Elsa, Tinkerbell and Jasmine, which was the unfortunate reason Bertha, Florence and Emma no longer sat with the rest of the girls. That drama had continued for at least a month until Prince Fuckboy realised everyone hated him and had quit.

“Apparently he’s a friend of Hook’s,” Dorcas told them.

“Hook?” Emmeline, who was the most recent addition to the cast, asked. “I don’t think I’ve met him.”

“Sirius Black,” Dorcas replied, as Lily smiled to herself, knowing that Dorcas’s usual rant about Sirius was coming. “And you don’t want to meet him. He’s totally method,” she continued, placing an unusual amount of disdain on the word method, “and speaks in a ridiculous English accent the entire time he’s here, even on breaks, and challenges everyone to duels all day. Fucking idiot.”

Lily couldn’t help but giggle. She was actually rather fond of Sirius’s approach to his work and suspected it had nothing to do with his devotion to acting but rather because he loved pretending to be a pirate all day.

“He is a fucking idiot and you know it,” Dorcas said to Lily when she saw her laughing.

“Well, at least he’s not another Prince Fuckboy,” Lily said, adding a slick of bright red lipstick before spritzing her whole face with setting spray. “And you have to admit, he’s a very good Hook.”

“As long as he hasn’t brought us another Dave to be Eric, we’ll be best friends,” Marlene smiled grimly. “How the hell am I the only one ready?” She asked forcefully, gloved hands on her hips.

“Because you don’t have to colour in your eyebrows to match your wig,” Lily replied, grabbing her long, curly ginger hair and twisting it onto her head.

“I can’t believe they still haven’t asked you to be Merida yet,” Mary observed, now pulling on Tiana’s light green velvet dress.

“Yeah, well in the nineties mermaids existed but not actual ginger people, apparently,” Lily said as she positioned the long red wig onto her head with ease. “That mermaid must’ve had some amazing hair dye down in Atlantis.”

“Hey, black people didn’t exist until 2010 apparently,” Mary added, fixing her own wig on. “And now there’s one black princess, there’ll obviously never be another one ever again.”

“Obviously,” Emmeline agreed, rolling her eyes. “Right, time to tie on this fucking awful sash,” she said before standing and moving to the costume rail, leaving Dorcas and Lily sitting at the mirrors.

“I’m still waiting on the animated world to admit lesbians exist,” Dorcas said to Lily with a wry shrug. “And don’t tell the boss, but I play everyday like I’m in love with Emma,” she winked, referring to their cast mate who played Jasmine.

“Amazing,” Lily laughed, looking around the dressing table for her aqua headpiece. “Does Emma know this?”

“Oh, she knows I think she’s hot as hell.”

Finished with her makeup and hair, Lily stood up to go and find her human dress, which was an unsightly aquamarine colour to match her headpiece.

“Are they ever going to let you back in the tail?” Dorcas asked, moving with Lily to grab her purple cape.

“They’re still working on the Grotto since the break-in,” Lily said, shuffling into her dress. “I think it’ll be open again in a few weeks.”

When she had first started at Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Lily’s main role had been to sit in Ariel’s grotto and do meet and greets. She had her own float in the daily parade and occasionally appeared as a human walking around the park (when she was told to) or at Cinderella’s restaurant, but for the most part, wearing the tail in the grotto was her main duty. Then, around a month ago, some boys had broken in to the park, and wrecked her grotto, as well as a number of other attractions. Lily had been in human form ever since, which was killing her, because Ariel’s human dress was puffy, heavy and sweltering in the Orlando heat.

Not that she complained too much. She loved being Ariel and was delighted to be cast as her when she’d first started six months ago. A small part of Lily lived in perpetual fear of being recast. Which was ridiculous because it would definitely happen at some point and they were all warned not to get too attached to any particular character.

Lily had done her best to adhere to this warning but she’d adored Ariel as a child and as she’d gotten older, Ariel had remained her favourite Disney princess. And judging by the response she got from the little kids who came to the park, Ariel was still a very popular princess, even eighteen years after she’d first appeared in animated form.

In truth, Lily had loved every minute of working at Disney. The only bad time had been the appearance of Dave.

“I know I hate this dress,” Lily said quietly to Dorcas, “but I can live with it. I’m not sure I could live with another Dave.”

“Look, I know Black is an idiot, but I doubt he’s friends with jerks,” Dorcas reassured her pragmatically, checking her appearance in the mirror. “Are you nervous about meeting him? Don’t be nervous.”

“Well you spend a lot of time with your prince,” Lily observed, fixing the wig down over her dress. “And the kids freak out when they see you together so obviously McGonagall is always sending you out together. It’d be nice to be paired with someone you can stand. I mean, you get on with Dirk, right?”

“Yeah,” Dorcas responded, “I don’t think he knows I’m gay cause he’s always flirting with me, but we get on fine.”

“Poor Dirk.”

“I’ve seen his sister on Facebook, she’s cute” Dorcas said with a grin. “Maybe he’ll introduce us.”

“Girls!” They heard McGonagall call from the hallway, “it’s 8.55”

“Coming!” Lily called back, jumping up and down a few times to settle her skirt.

“Right,” Dorcas said with a swish of her cloak, “Time to be asked if I want to build a snowman ten thousand times.”

Letting her voice drift higher and adding in her signature Ariel warble, Lily followed Dorcas out of the dressing room, “you’re such a guppy, Anna,” she replied, saying goodbye to Lily Evans as she transformed into the little mermaid just as she reached the bright sunshine of the park.

---------------------------

“I am fucking exhausted,” Marlene breathed, stripping off her gloves as they all trailed into the dressing room at 10pm that night. “And I hate teenaged boys.”

“Yeah, I saw some guys bothering you,” Mary replied, throwing herself down into her dressing room chair.

“Trying to get me to break character. Assholes. They were trying to film the whole thing and put it on Instagram,” Marlene spat.

“What were they doing?”

“Oh, the usual shit. Calling me a furry lover. I ignored them.”

“Good for you,” Lily said, inwardly wondering how soon she could get the metric tonne of foundation she had on off her face.

“At least you didn’t get dole whip spilled all over you,” Emmeline moaned, already taking off Mulan’s dress. “Costume are going to kill me. This is the fourth time in two weeks I’ve needed a new dress.”

“Ariel!” Sounded McGonagall’s voice from outside.

“I think she means me,” Lily whispered to them all with a wink as she slipped off her chair. Wincing as her weary feet touched the floor, Lily made her way to the hall.

When she entered the hallway, Lily saw McGonagall standing with her cherished clipboard and right beside her, a man who was undoubtedly Prince Eric.

All of the guys who played Princes at the park were good looking but Lily felt her stomach clench as she took in her new work husband. She could see why they had cast him as Eric. His black hair was thick and windswept and curled in at the edges of his lightly tanned skin. There was no way he’d be wearing a wig. As his eyes fell on her, he greeted her with a show stopping smile, and Lily couldn’t help but notice his strong jaw and gorgeous hazel eyes.

“James, this is Lily, or Ariel to you,” McGonagall said to the boy, now scribbling on the board. James opened his mouth to say something but their boss got there first, “you can smile, dance, hold hands whilst still and give her a two second hug,” she continued, briskly ticking the board as she listed each item, “but no kissing. At all. Ever.”

“Okay,” James nodded steadily, looking at McGonagall with slight apprehension.

“Make sure he doesn’t get lost,” she said to Lily abruptly before striding away.

“Is she always that scary?” He whispered, leaning into Lily as they both watched Minerva leave.

“I’m afraid so,” Lily told him with a weak smile, “she’s in charge of rules and makes sure we all follow them.”

“And we’re married, right?”

“Yes,” Lily nodded, trying not to stare at him too much.

“Wow. Can’t even kiss my wife. What a bummer,” James said with a deep sigh, causing Lily to laugh.

“Disney is strictly a PG place,” she said, “but waltzing is good fun. The kids love it.”

“They showed me during training,” James replied. “It took me a while to get it but I don’t think I’ll embarrass you.”

Lily laughed again as she leaned against the wall, “I’m a walking, talking fish woman. I doubt you are going to be what embarrasses me,” she smiled, trying not to blush when his eyes did a quick sweep of her outfit. “So, did McGonagall show you around?”

“I came down for the parade,” he responded, pushing his hands into his jeans as Lily noticed his sinewy tanned arms. He was going to look good in Eric’s white shirt. “It was great. You were great.”

“Thanks,” she said, “it’s pretty easy without Eric to be honest. I just sit there and smile and wave.”

“And with Eric?”

“Well, that’s when the hugging and the dancing and the hand-holding comes in,” Lily continued, giving him a little grin. “But it’s a 30 minute parade so trying to keep that going is difficult.”

“Especially when you hate your Eric, right?”

Lily blanched a little as James smiled guilty at her, “Sirius told me about the guy I’m replacing.”

“Yeah, well, he was a jackass,” Lily admitted, swishing her dress about a little. “And what’s worse, he made it really awkward for everyone here. We were all glad when he left.”

“Okay, well I promise to be absolutely nothing like him and then you won’t mind dancing with me for half an hour,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling as Lily’s stomach jumped again.

“Deal,” she agreed, hoping to sound as normal as possible. “So, when do you start?”

“Next week,” James told her happily, “they’re just sorting my contacts and then I’m good to go.”

“Cool,” Lily said, “well, it was really nice meeting you. I’m going to go take off this powder puff before I faint,” she closed, giving him another smile before she turned towards the dressing room door.

“Wait,” James called, stalling her in her step.

“Yeah?”

“You’re my Princess, right?” Lily laughed lightly as James blushed and corrected himself, “I mean, you’re who I’ll be working with? Going forward?”

“Yeah,” She replied, hearing a little shyness creep into her voice, “as long as I don’t get recast, I’m your Princess.”

-----------------------------

James, as it turned out, was an absolute dream to work with.

On Monday morning, he was there waiting for her as soon as she stepped out of the dressing room. In his white flowing shirt, red cumber-band, turned up trousers, boots and blue contacts, he looked both exactly like Eric and unreasonably hot.

They spent the whole day together and as predicted, all the kids adored both of them together. They both signed hundreds of autographs and took hundreds of photos and selfies, and when the parade started at nine o’clock, they had their first dance.

It wasn’t without a hitch, as they both stepped on each other’s toes several times but as long as their smiles stayed on, no one in the audience noticed.

“So, how’d I do?” James asked her, as they moved backstage and walked towards her dressing room.

“Really good,” Lily said a little breathlessly, noticing that they were still walking arm in arm, as though they were out in public.

“Sorry about the feet,” he whispered into her ear as they passed a stream of characters all hurrying to their dressing rooms.

“That’s okay,” she giggled, giving his arm a squeeze, “I stepped on your toes too.”

“Yeah but I’m a lot heavier than you are!”

“We’ll get better with practice,” Lily told him. “Oh and one other thing, next time a kid asks you about Sebastian or Flounder, technically you never met them, so next time just say they’re ‘friends of Ariel’.”

“Right,” James nodded, “and Sebastian is the lobster, yeah?”

Lily stopped walking and her hand fell away from his arm, “crab,” she corrected bluntly. “Sebastian is a crab.”

“Sure,” he smiled uneasily, letting his hands fall to his side. “A crab.”

Feeling very suspicious, Lily eyed James closely.

“They did teach you about Sebastian during training?”

“Yeah, they did, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” She asked, feeling her eyes narrow.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to remember when…” he trailed off, not really looking at her.

“When?” Lily prompted.

“When you haven’t really seen what he looks like,” James finally said lowly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“What?” She yelped, so loudly that Donald Duck and Goofy stopped to eye the two of them before moving on. “You haven’t seen The Little Mermaid? James, that’s like day one!”

“It was day five,” he disagreed weakly, obviously nervous due to her reaction. “I was ill so they said I could just watch it at home.”

“And?”

“And…I sort of…never did,” he admitted with a small shrug as Lily cursed him for being so attractive. It would be so much easier to be annoyed with him if she could stop staring at his gorgeous face.

“James, if McGonagall finds out you’ve never seen it, she will lose it!” Lily warned him, not wanting to picture the monumental explosion that would occur if that happened. What was worse: he’d probably get fired and then they’d need another new Eric and Lily couldn’t take the suspense of waiting to meet another new Prince. Plus, she was sort of growing fond of this one.

“Yeah, I got that impression when I met her.”

“I mean, you don’t even know how we met!” She persisted, shoving his shoulder lightly.

“I’m guessing in the sea?” He joked feebly, as Lily rolled her eyes.

“Unacceptable,” Lily said, folding her arms. “I am not letting you get fired over this.”

“Would you miss me, Princess?” James grinned, eyes sparkling.

“If you get fired they might bring Dave back,” Lily observed grimly, ignoring the flutter in her stomach that appeared when he obviously flirted with her, “and then I’d have to quit.”

“Okay, I will watch the movie…” James appeased her, shaking his head.

“Oh, you will watch that movie,” Lily ground out, stepping closer to him. “My number is on the staff call sheet. Text me your address. Next Sunday, I’m coming over and by the end of the day you will know the names, hair and fin colours of all my six sisters!”

------------------------

Of course, Lily hadn’t expected the teasing she ended up receiving from her fellow Princesses when she told them her weekend plans, which was probably quite naïve.

“You’re dating your Prince,” Marlene had giggled, Friday evening as they all de-wigged.

“I am not,” Lily protested ignoring their sceptical smirks. “I’m saving his job. And my sanity. Also, McGonagall changed the rules after Dave. No dating Princes! Remember?”

“Please,” Emmeline interjected dryly, “as if you haven’t noticed how hot he is.”

“Everyone has,” Mary said, saving Lily the trouble of dodging the question. “Did you see Bertha all over him in the canteen this afternoon?” She asked the group, as Lily felt her stomach twist unpleasantly. She hadn’t noticed that, being too preoccupied with the book she usually read at lunch.

“Yup,” Dorcas stated blithely, pulling off her wig to reveal flowing blonde hair with a fuchsia streak through it. “If he’s not careful, this is going to turn out to be another Prince Fuckboy sitch.”

“James is not Dave,” Lily inserted forcefully, taking off Ariel’s necklace and throwing it onto the counter. “He’s not going to behave like that.”

Embarrassed as she saw the girls exchanging knowing looks due to her outburst, Lily fixed an unconvincing smile onto her face. “He knows all about Dave and the drama and he’s aware of how horrible that all was,” she said calmly, “I doubt he’ll put us all through that again.”

Sensing an end to the conversation, Lily continued to unpin her wig, enjoying the wonderful feeling of removing the pins from her head. She undressed quickly and changed into her street uniform, before making her way to the door, saying goodbye to them all as she went.

“Well, we’re all here arguing over him,” she heard Emmeline say lowly to Marlene as she exited, “it sure feels like another Fuckboy situation.”

--------------------------------

Emmeline’s words from Friday night were still ringing in her ears as she walked to James’s apartment on Sunday afternoon. And of course, now she knew about Bertha, she had watched her all day Saturday doing the best she could to get James’s attention.

It shouldn’t have annoyed Lily and it was ridiculous that she felt in any way possessive of James. But watching Bertha flirt, smile and laugh her way through lunch with him stoked an ugly feeling in Lily that she soon recognised as jealousy.

Knowing that she needed to quell this before she herself was the instigator of drama, Lily resolved not to admire James anymore. In fact, as she crossed the street to the grey wooded building that she thought was where he lived, Lily decided that she would not in any way fancy James and Bertha could have him if she liked.

Climbing the stairs and ringing the bell, Lily was happy in her determination…until James opened the door.

He was wearing glasses.

Fuck.

He had never worn glasses before. A bit like every other piece of clothing he decided to wear, the glasses looked unfairly good on him. She didn’t know what it was about them, but they finished his face beautifully – just in the way that she could picture taking them off to get a better look at his eyes. Maybe during a time when they were standing closer together. With as much energy as she could muster, Lily pushed this thought out of her head. She wasn’t allowed to date her cast mate.

Lily was about to apologise for standing awkwardly in silence in his doorway when she noticed that James seemed to be experiencing the same vocal block too, his eyes fixed on her.

“What?” She asked nervously, knowing that this wasn’t the most polite or graceful way to break the silence but she was desperate so it would have to do.

James swallowed, “oh, um…it’s nothing…it’s just…”

“Just?”

“Eh, your hair…and your, um…eyes,” he proceeded brokenly, his right hand slipping into his hair as Lily wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it, “I’ve never seen you without…”

He trailed off again, his eyes doing another sweep of her face as Lily reminded herself to breathe.

“I can’t believe they make you wear a wig and contacts,” he finally managed after another swallow.

“Well, you know,” Lily shrugged, feeling her cheeks turn red, “I have to look like her,” she said, holding up the DVD box with Ariel on the front. “Ready for your homework?”

With a jerky smile, James brought her into his flat, closing the door after her.

“You know, I had to borrow a DVD player from my mom,” James said as he followed her into the living room.

“Well that’s your fault for getting rid of an essential piece of technology,” Lily scolded him, dropping her bag beside the couch before sitting down.

“Pfft,” James snorted, taking the DVD off her, “we definitely could’ve just streamed it.”

“My fair merlady,” Lily heard a booming voice echo from behind her, “welcome to our most humble abode.”

“Sirius,” Lily grinned, hoping off the couch and running around to greet him, as Sirius performed a deep bow before grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Captain Hook, Princess,” Sirius corrected politely in his flawless English accent.

“We spent an hour deciding if he could speak to you normally,” James said from behind them, not sounding impressed.

“You should not complain,” Sirius responded with an edge to his voice, “remember, it was I who provided the popped corn.”

“Are you joining us, Captain?” Lily asked.

“Alas, no,” Sirius replied, as James let out a ‘thank god’ over their shoulders. “I am expecting a duel with that wretched boy Pan this week and so must practice my fencing.”

“He’s going to the gym,” James translated as Lily heard the opening tones of the movie echo from the tv.

“Adieu, my dear,” Sirius called as he strode out of the apartment, gym bag in hand.

“I couldn’t live without him, but if I could, I would’ve killed him by now,” James said without prompting as Lily joined him on the couch.

“Shhhhh,” Lily hissed, poking him in the elbow, as the Disney castle appeared on the screen. “I can promise you there will be a quiz after this.”

James surprised Lily by being fairly quiet throughout the opening scenes of the movie, save for the occasional comment: “her father’s a dick,”… “he definitely looks like a lobster,” and various other observations which made her laugh.

“He’s a crab and you best remember that,” she warned.

“As if it matters…”

“Shhhh,” she quieted him again, knowing what was coming as Ariel swam towards the surface and fireworks exploded from the ship. “Oh my god,” she breathed as Eric came into view, his dog Max bounding around the deck. “This is the best part of the movie.”

“You think he’s attractive?” James asked, sounding unimpressed and she could tell he was watching her.

“Eh…yeah, I’m not blind,” Lily answered emphatically

“I suppose he’s alright…for a cartoon,” James retorted and she couldn’t help but smile at his miffed tone.

“Disney have a really random record of drawing ridiculously hot people,” she told him, still enjoying the view of Eric. “Besides, you should take it as a compliment,” she added thoughtlessly, cringing when she realised what she had said.

“Oh, so, because you think he’s hot that must mean you think I am?” James replied, sounding remarkably happier as he turned his whole body to her.

Trying to regain her composure, Lily shrugged, “Eric is generally regarded as one of the better looking Disney Princes…by everyone.”

With a brief grin, James felt silent and turned back to the movie.

“He’s clearly a shit sailor if his ship is sinking.”

“He’s a Prince and there was a storm…what do you want him to do?”

They watched in silence until the moment when Ariel had rescued Eric and was trying to revive him on the shore. As she sang to him, Lily unconsciously started to sing along quietly, as she had been doing ever since she had first watched the movie.

To her left, she heard a soft noise which broke her out of her daydream.

“Sorry,” she said, looking over to James to see him watching her again. “Old habit.”

“Don’t be,” he replied kindly, a crooked smile about his mouth, “you can sing.”

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

“Why don’t you sing at work?”

“We’re not allowed,” Lily advised, “we’re specifically told not to sing. Did you pay attention at all during training?”

With a guilty shrug, James replied, “I still don’t get why you can’t sing.”

“I guess they want the kids to hear the songs the way they remember them,” she went on, “which I understand. I know I play her but Jodi Benson will always be Ariel to me.”

“Oh, she’s going to do something stupid to be with the stupid hot Prince, isn’t she?” James winced now watching the movie again.

“Can you blame her?”

The movie continued and James revelled in his correct prediction, yelling loudly at Ariel not to sign Ursula’s contract much to Lily’s amusement.

“There is no way in hell that would be legally binding!”

Now feeling a bit bolder, Lily sang her way through the rest of the songs with James laughing along until they both fell quiet at ‘Kiss the Girl”.

“Noooooo!” James howled when Flotsam and Jetsam overturned the boat Eric and Ariel were sitting in. “Fuck those eels!”

Nearly crying with laughter, Lily patted him on the arm, “I hate those things,” she consoled.

“I have never been so annoyed,” he announced, glaring at the television screen. “Why didn’t they just kiss?!”

“We’re only just half way through the movie, they couldn’t kiss now.”

James sat and pouted unhappily as the movie went on, only making another noise when Vanessa – Ursula’s human alter ego – appeared, “hello,” he let out lowly, his eyebrows dancing, as she slinked onto the screen.

“Hey!” Lily cried, feeling an unwarranted level of outrage. “Don’t you ‘hello’ her! She’s evil! She’s trying to distract you from Ariel. You can’t find her attractive!”

“Oh, so you can think cartoon Eric is hot but I can’t think evil Ariel is?”

“Eric is hot but he’s not evil! If Eric had an evil twin, I wouldn’t be ‘hello-ing’ all over him!”

“Look, you can’t deny she’s good looking,” James placated her, gesturing to Vanessa on the screen as Lily harrumphed, “but will it make you feel better if I say she’s not a patch on Ariel?”

“All I am asking is that you show a little loyalty to your wife,” Lily said evenly. “That witch has her voice!”

“I cannot believe we are arguing over which cartoon is hotter.”

“Well, you work at Disney now, Potter. Get used to it.”

Again, they fell silent as the movie played on and they watched as Ursula was discovered, defeated and Eric and Ariel married in their happily ever after.

“You know, you’re right. I didn’t like Vanessa so much by the end,” James conceded lowly, stretching out now that the film was over.

“Told you,” Lily gloated. “And at least now, if McGonagall asks, you can honestly say you’ve watched it.”

“Very true,” he agreed, “and I now also know the names of all assorted sentient fish and crustaceans. Thanks for taking the time to make sure I don’t get fired,” he smiled earnestly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, hoping to sound normal as her heart started to thud against her chest.

“Did you do this with Dave?” He asked, fixing her with a look that wasn’t helping Lily at all.

Lily laughed, “no,” she breathed. “But I’m sure Dave watched the movie during training.��

“Bad luck, Dave.”

Her stomach now tingling, Lily knew she had to remove herself from his couch before she found herself in a tricky position.

“I should go,” she smiled tightly, getting to her feet to remove the DVD.

“Okay,” James said, moving after her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” she said, walking towards the door. “As long as you can recognise me.”

“As if I’d forget you, Princess,” he winked, making Lily curse herself for flirting with him when she had promised she wouldn’t. “Unless, Vanessa is there, of course.”

She had just enough time to yelp in outrage before he closed the door cackling.

------------------

Working with James was easy. Working with James whilst trying not to fancy him was not so easy.

“Even with the blue contacts in he looks good,” she overheard Mary observe.

“His real eyes are nicer though,” Emmeline replied and all the girls in their dressing room agreed.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Evans,” Marlene cut in, sweeping past Lily’s dressing space whilst Lily was unbuttoning her gown.

“I’m not being quiet, I’m trying to get out of this stupid dress so I can go home!” Lily stressed, inwardly knowing that the reason she was dying to go home was so she wouldn’t have to hear them talk about James.

“Oh, don’t be in such a huff!” Marlene retorted, turning Lily around to do her buttons for her. “No one here actually fancies him. Except you. And Bertha, of course.”

“I do not fancy him,” Lily replied, despising how childish and ridiculous she sounded. “I agree he has nice eyes, but he’s my cast mate and that’s all.”

“Poor James,” Marlene said, giggling along with the rest of the girls, “he’ll be devastated to hear that.”

“Oh, would you stop?” Lily hissed. “You’re just talking nonsense now!”

“You can’t see the way he looks at you up on that float, I can!”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but being a good actor is one of the requirements to work here. As is keeping your mitts off your fellow employees!”

“Sorry to interrupt what is clearly an important conversation,” Dorcas cut in dryly, “but has McGonagall spoken to you all about this Buzzfeed thing?”

“Yes,” Mary replied as the rest of the group all echoed her. “It’s this Sunday, we’re bringing our own costumes but there’ll be hair and makeup there.”

“And why are we doing this again?”

“More advertising apparently,” Mary told her as she hung up her costume. “Buzzfeed are obsessed with the Princesses so they want some shoot to show us all off to their readers.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Dorcas droned, rolling her eyes. “All I needed was an excuse to spend another day dressed for the alpines.”

“Are the guys coming?” Emmeline asked, now styling her own hair.

“Yes, we are,” a voice sounded from outset the dressing room as they all jumped, “also, can I come in? I need to speak to Lily.”

Eyes widening when she realised it was James, Lily yelled back, “just a minute,” as she started to undress quickly. “If he heard what any of you said, I will put fairy dust in all of your wig caps,” she hissed quietly, eyeballing them all before pulling on her shorts and t-shirt.

“Drama queen,” Marlene shot back, striding to the dressing room door and pulling it open once Lily was dressed. “Enter at your own peril, Potter,” she greeted James, “everyone is feeling very Princessey today.

Ignoring Marlene, Lily walked towards James. “What?” She asked very abruptly, seizing up inwardly at her rudeness but she could feel the eyes of the rest of the group on them.

James watched her a bit uncertainly before beginning, “so, one day, I will manage this dance without injuring you,” he half-laughed, folding him arms, presumably from her forced coldness.

“It’s fine, James,” she sighed, not at him, but because of the total silence in the dressing room as they talked.

“Maybe you guys should practice,” Emmeline put in cheerfully and Marlene exchanged a grin with her.

Lily shot her a look.

“Actually, that was what I was going to suggest,” James replied awkwardly, hand in his hair. “Unless, you have somewhere to be?”

“She has nowhere to be,” Marlene smiled, walking back to her own table. “I know because we have big plans to go home and watch Queer Eye at mine.”

Knowing that she wasn’t getting out of this without a serious amount of effort and really not wanting to offend James anymore than she probably already had, Lily didn’t bother to object. And they did need to practice.

“Great,” James smiled, still sounding a little uncertain.

Walking towards him, Lily let her hands drift upwards, one to his shoulder and the other into his waiting hand.

“We don’t have to…here,” he said to her quietly, as his arm came around her waist.

“It’s fine,” Lily reassured again, giving him a tight smile. At least this way, her cast mates could see there wasn’t anything there.

But as he pulled her a little closer and their chests met, Lily felt her heart start to beat rapidly. Did he always hold her this closely?

“You move forward first,” she said lowly, stealing herself with the hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, equally quiet.

After a short pause, Lily counted them in, her eyes on their feet.

They managed the first set of four…and then the second. And then the third. But then James stopped.

“You can do it fine in here,” she observed, giving him a small smile.

“Well, it’s not exactly parade conditions,” Dorcas pointed out.

“Would you…” James started, before stopping.

“What?”

“I need you to look at me,” he told her with a reluctant smile, “I think I’ve worked out that’s where the problem is.”

Lily felt, rather than saw, their audience exchange looks.

“Okay,” she agreed after a deep breath. And as she counted them in, she raised her eyes to lock on his.

After two moves, James stood on her left foot.

“Try again,” Lily said immediately, not wanting to give anyone a chance to comment.

She counted once more and they moved back, side, forward, side…She raised her eyes to his and immediately, James tripped.

“Shit, sorry,” he breathed, eyes and arms dropping away from her as his face coloured red.

“It’s okay,” Lily said kindly, unable to stop the butterflies swarming in her stomach.

“Evans is known for her amazing eyes,” Dorcas interjected pleasantly, “I wouldn’t beat yourself up, Potter.”

“Then how come it still happens when you’ve got contacts in?” James asked lightly, quietly enough that only he and Lily could hear. And then he gave her one of those smiles that made her all her limbs feel weak.

“I don’t have to look at you,” Lily offered as a solution.

James shook his head, “no, we’re in love,” he replied quickly before realisation crept onto his face and he laughed steadily amongst the titters in the room, “Eric and Ariel are in love,” he clarified modestly, not really looking at her. “When you’re in love, you look at each other.”

Their eyes met again.

“Exactly like that,” Marlene cut through and though Lily kept her eyes on James, she could tell her friend was grinning. “You guys are such great actors.”

Between that remark and the thudding of her heart, Lily had to move away.

“Maybe we can practice at lunch tomorrow,” she suggested, walking away from him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “that sounds good. I won’t take up more of your time now.”

“Bye James,” Emmeline called and Lily heard the dressing room door close over her shoulder.

“Wow, Lil’,” Marlene started, “practice at lunchtime tomorrow. What a great way to stop Bertha from getting anywhere near him.”

Lily chucked her beauty blender at her.

-----------------------------

As it turned out, Lily did not see James at lunchtime the next day.

She had awoken in the middle of the night with a fever which, at the time she had related to the rather interesting dream he had been having about James. But, by the next morning, she had a permanent lump stuck in her throat, found it hard to swallow and felt weak and cold all over.

After she called in sick to McGonagall, she just about made it to the doctors without fainting. Upon hearing the hoarseness in her voice, it took the doctor all of three minutes to diagnose her with laryngitis.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your voice goes completely,” was her final word as Lily traipsed out of the office. “Should be over in two weeks. Plenty of bed rest, lots of water and no talking, okay?”

It occurred to Lily as she made her way home that she probably still could go into work if she wanted. That’s what Sirius would do. If she was method, that’s what she’d do too.

Unfortunately, her fever and dizziness overtook her before she was able to even progress that thought and Lily was again lucky to make it to her bed in time to pass out for the rest of the day.

When she woke up again on Tuesday night, she found several messages on her phone from Marlene and Dorcas objecting to her sick day and demanding that she return to work tomorrow. Lily let them know she was ill and probably wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week before promptly falling asleep again.

It wasn’t until Sunday morning, when she had progressed to being able to make herself soup and toast, that Lily was reminded of the Buzzfeed article.

She was busy peering over the toaster wondering when it would pop, when her phone rang.

Answering it before remembering that she couldn’t talk, Lily jumped to hear James’s voice at the end of the line.

“Hello?” His voice echoed down the telephone, “hello? Lily? I’m not sure if this is a voicemail…”

Lily was contemplating hanging up and sending him a text to explain when James continued to talk.

“Marlene said you were sick…I’m sorry for ringing you when you’re not well but…well, we’re down at this Buzzfeed thing and McGonagall has assigned Bertha to be Ariel…”

Lily nearly dropped the phone.

“…and well…this is stupid…but it sort of feels like Vanessa is here instead of Ariel. And I remembered what you said about loyalty to my wife so…so I just wanted to say that. And to say it feels weird doing this without you.”

She held onto the counter, nearly breathless to hear what he would say next.

“Anyway, if you can get here…I know you’re sick so don’t if you can’t…but if you can, we could do the shoot with the real Ariel. So yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. Bye.”

By the time the toast had popped, Lily had brushed her hair, teeth and was downstairs waiting on her uber.

---------------------------------

“I thought you were sick!”

Marlene was the first to greet her after she had made it into the photo shoot.

She’d already had to use her phone to type out her issue for the security guard and doorman and so she just handed it to Marlene, note already open.

“You’ve lost your voice?’’

Lily nodded.

“Brilliant!” Marlene laughed, “do you need me to explain forks too?”

Lily glared at her until Marlene relented and took her by the arm.

“They were going to let Bertha do Ariel – of course she was dying to – but now you’re here, there’s no way they’ll go to the bother of changing her from Elsa to Ariel,” Marlene chatted as she guided Lily through the studio.

As they walked Lily observed Dorcas and Dirk, arm in arm in the setting of a snowy mountain.

“I’ll sort this with McGonagall,” Marlene continued as they walked to the make-up and hair area, “you just get ready. They’re doing you and James after B&B so you still have a while to go.”

Marlene brought her up to a man who was in the middle of styling Mary’s hair.

“This is Lily, Fabian,” she announced.

“Lily!” Mary greeted, sounding a bit giddy.

“She’s Ariel. She’s lost her voice,” Marlene said loudly, as Fabian and Mary regarded her with amazement.

“Oh my God,” Fabian said, his hands falling away from Mary’s hair. “Really?”

Lily nodded exaggeratedly, struggling not to roll her eyes.

“You’re not contagious are you?” Mary asked uncertainty, after her smile had faded.

“Benjy!” Fabian yelled, saving Lily the trouble of telling Mary she might be but she wasn’t going to let an infectious disease stop her from saving Ariel from Bertha. “Get over here!”

A skinny blond man in glasses sauntered over to the group, leaving behind the photographer he had been speaking with.

“Yeah?”

“This is Ariel,” Fabian informed him excitedly, clapping Lily on the shoulder.

“Nice to meet you,” Benjy said pleasantly, holding out his hand. “I’m Buzzfeed’s social editor.”

“Ben, she can’t answer you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She’s lost her voice,” Fabian managed, practically buzzing with the news.

Suddenly Benji’s whole face changed, from slightly stressed young reporter to the same fevered astounded expression that Fabian was wearing.

“No shit,” he breathed, “really?”

Lily nodded.

“You can’t talk at all?”

Lily shook her head, feeling more and more sympathy with Ariel with each passing minute.

“Fucking brilliant,” Benji celebrated, grabbing her shoulders.

“You should film this,” Fabian announced, moving back to Mary and beginning to work on her hair again. “That would be amazing.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Benji agreed, “would you mind?”

“You should probably check with McGonagall first,” Marlene suggested, pointing at their manager who was giving directions to the photographer whilst Dorcas fanned herself.

“Sure, sure,” the journalist noted, not sounding too concerned, “will someone get her into her costume,” he called, as he strode back across the room. “I want to do this asap.”

Thinking that she might hurry the process along by putting on her own wig, Lily erased the note on her phone and simply typed out ‘wig?’ before showing it to Marlene.

“What does she want?” Fabian asked absentmindedly.

“She wants to know where her wig is,” Marlene answered, causing Fabian to swivel away from Mary again in outrage.

“They make you wear a wig?!”

After Fabian had recovered from realising Lily wasn’t allowed to have her natural hair, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

“I’m in charge of the shoot styling, and I say, you’re using your own hair.”

Not really in a position to argue, Lily had watched as they transformed her hair from a curly, frizzy nightmare to long, flowing and bouncing waves that fell perfectly around her face and over her shoulders. She’d never seen her hair look so good. And sure, it wasn’t Ariel’s colour, but it was close.

Whilst her hair was being transformed, another stylist had appeared to apply her make up. Lily was used to wearing Ariel’s make up but she wasn’t used to having it tweaked to suit her own eye colour. It was the smallest of changes to the eyeshadow but suddenly, the make up fit her perfectly. As she watched herself in the mirror, it was as though she was somewhere halfway between herself and her cartoon counterpart.

“You look amazing,” Fabian appraised, still playing with the ends of her hair. “I can’t wait to see you in the tail.”

Not having heard this news before, Lily’s whole face lit up – her eyebrows jumping into her hairline.

“She gets the wear the tail?” Dorcas yelped, appearing out of nowhere and into Lily’s mirror.

“Of course!” Fabian said, causing Dorcas to clap. “We’re doing the scene after Ariel rescues Eric and brings him to the beach. You can’t be a mermaid without your tail!”

Finally pleased with her hair, Fabian moved away to Emma with one final squeeze of Lily’s shoulders.

“James Potter is about to lose his damn mind,” Dorcas whispered into Lily’s ear as they both grinned.

With this thought ringing in her ears, Lily made her way to the costume section to look for her tail. Finding Ariel’s costume wasn’t hard and she found putting on the bra and top part of her tail like slipping into an old pair of pyjamas.

“Ariel! We’re ready for you.”

Hearing the photographer calling her, Lily managed to signal to Dorcas (now in her civilian clothes) and hand her the fin.

“Here, I’ll walk with you,” she said, taking Lily’s elbow to help her balance.

They moved slowly and steadily towards the main stage and in the distance, Lily saw James, in full costume, lying down on the set, eyes towards the ceiling.

Her heart gave a quick thump.

“You really like him,” Dorcas observed quietly, squeezing Lily’s arm. “Your whole breathing changed when you saw him,” she explained, after Lily gave her a questioning look.

Ignoring that, and not really caring that Dorcas was right, Lily continued to wiggle her way to the set.

“Ariel has arrived,” Dorcas announced to the room, shocking Lily and causing all the heads in the room to snap to her.

And just as James lifted his head to see her, suddenly Dorcas was nowhere to be found.

“Wow,” she heard him breathe as their eyes met and she saw the look of pure attraction come onto his face.

“She looks good, right Potter?” Dorcas called teasingly, and Lily quickly became aware that not only were they being watched, but Benji was currently filming with a handheld camera.

“I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this,” James responded softly, his eyes never moving from hers as the room laughed.

“Oh my god, they’re not together, are they?”she heard Benji say to Dorcas.

“Okay, Ariel, if you could just lie down beside Eric,” the photographer cut in.

Feeling a little ridiculous as she wobbled over to James, Lily just about managed to get to her knees when James’s arms came up to her elbows to steady her. With effort, she placed her body in between his arm and his elbow, head hanging over his. “Hi,” he said lowly to her, in his own sweet tone and Lily could only smile. “Marlene tells me you’ve lost your voice?”

She nodded earnestly and he smiled in response, causing her to blush when he pushed one side of her hair over her shoulder.

“So…was that you on the phone earlier or...?”

Again, Lily nodded.

“Right,” James coughed, “sorry for calling. I just…”

Managing to interrupt him by shaking her head, Lily gave his forearm a quick squeeze.

“Anna, can you attach her tail?” The photographer asked Dorcas.

“I’m on it!”

“Right, so everyone knows the scene. Eric is passed out, Ariel, you’ve just saved him from death. He’s the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen and this is where you decide you’ll do whatever it takes to be with him.”

Lily nodded to acknowledge she’d heard as she held up her feet for Dorcas.

“Just smile, play with his hair…you know – the usual.”

With one final look, James let his head fall backwards and his eyes close.

“Music!” The photographer called and Lily heard the refrain of ‘Part of Your World’ sweep around the room.

Deciding that the only way to do this without her heart beating out of her chest was to be completely method, Lily did her best to pretend that no one else was in the room as her hands moved to James’s hair. The quirk of the left side of his mouth was the only sign on James’s face that she had touched him.

Smiling down at him, Lily flipped her tail and moved her fingers down past his eyebrow, over his cheekbone and down to his jaw, suppressing a full grin when James inhaled deeply.

In the distance, she could hear the sound of the camera clicking furiously.

“Okay, Eric, we’re going to try a few with you awake, so open your eyes.”

Lily’s breathing skipped when her eyes met James’s hazel ones and she almost forgot she was supposed to be acting.

“Heh,” the odd sound he made before swallowing thickly.

Lily looked at him quizzically.

“I’ve just remembered how we get your voice back,” he explained, eyes pouring into hers as the music swelled and his hand drifted into her hair.

She probably should have stopped him, given that they were surrounded by all of their work colleagues, but with absolutely no desire to, Lily’s eyes fluttered closed as their lips met.

He kissed her tenderly and so softly that Lily, wanting more of him, pressed herself down against him as James’s left arm encircled her waist. She revelled in the feeling of his lips against hers, her hair falling down around them and shading them from the eyes of the rest of the room.

It was only after silence rang out around them as the music stopped that they broke apart, eyes meeting each other again. Lily couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face when she saw the look James was giving her.

He had just swept her hair behind her ear, when a loud wolf-whistle echoed around the set.

“Well, did it work?” Marlene shrieked, removing her hands from her mouth.

With a quick glance at James, Lily tried to speak…and what came out was a garbled, hoarse cough and the most horrid sound she had ever made.

The entire room exploded in laughter, except for James who was still smiling up at her.

“Oh well,” he said quietly, nudging her nose with his, “guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

And then Lily remembered that McGonagall was in the room. And oh fuck, James had just kissed her in front of her boss.

Gesturing for someone to come and take the tail and help her up, Lily tried to look everywhere but James whilst also avoiding McGonagall as well.

“I got you,” she heard Marlene say from behind her and soon after her feet were free. “Dressing room?” She asked urgently, as she helped Lily to her feet. “That was the hottest fucking kiss I have ever seen,” Marlene told her quietly, as they stumbled towards the back.

Lily had so many questions running through her head – mainly did McGonagall look like she was going to eat them alive – that she wasn’t able to focus on how great the kiss had been.

When they reached the backstage area, she lowered herself into her seat and tried not to panic.

“Look, don’t freak out,” Marlene reassured her, catching sight of Lily’s expression, “you can say you were just acting.”

Lily was about to respond when she saw James coming after them, jogging lightly.

“On a scale of one to ten, how stupid was that?” He asked, seemingly directing the query at Marlene but looking at Lily.

“Probably a ten,” Marlene answered.

“Can I have a minute to chat with Lily, please?”

“Nope, you’ll need me to translate.”

Lily squeezed her arm and Marlene sighed.

“Okay, fine, but I want all the details later, you hear?”

As Marlene left, Lily felt her heart start to beat rapidly again. Fuck, she liked this boy way too much. Enough that she was endangering her job just to kiss him.

“Okay, it kind of sucks that you can’t talk,” James started, pulling a seat around to face her, “because I can’t tell if you’re mad or not. Are you?”

Not able to stop a smile appearing at his nervous bashfulness, Lily shook her head.

“Good,” he breathed, breaking out into a grin, “because I’ve been thinking about kissing you for three weeks and I really want to do it again.”

Feeling the butterflies swooping around her stomach, Lily’s smile widened.

“I checked the staff rules a couple of weeks ago” James continued, letting his hand come out to fall onto hers, “and apparently, I can’t ask you out.”

Again, Lily nodded.

“So, basically what I wanted to check was if it would be coming on too strong to quit and then ask you out?”

“Yes, it would be, Potter,” a voice said as they both jumped. “I would have at least suggested starting some form of clandestine relationship before resorting to quitting,” Minerva said, glaring down at them both, “or I would have before you kissed Evans in front of the entire cast.”

“Eh, yeah, sorry about that…”

“And stop looking so worried, Evans,” she continued briskly, “no one is going to quit.”

“What?” James asked, his hand still firm on top of hers.

“The rule about dating was put in place after the Dave debacle,” McGonagall explained, “to deter similar behaviour and to prevent us losing half the cast. We’re not going to fire either of you for dating each other. Particularly, when you’ve been driving the entire Park insane with your ridiculous flirting.”

“We weren’t that ridiculous,” James said quietly, looking a bit peeved.

“I’m also assured by Benji that the footage of you both this afternoon is certain to go ‘totally viral’ – it would be illogical for Disney to fire it’s two most popular cast mates.”

“Right,” he noted, his eyes meeting Lily’s. “Does that mean we can kiss in the Park?”

“Not a chance, Potter,” Minerva replied, “you’ll have to help Evans get her voice back on your own time.” And with that, and a wink, she swept away, back towards the set where Jasmine was scolding Aladdin.

“Worth a shot,” James grinned, standing up. Eyes dancing, he leant forward and pressed a quick but meaningful kiss to her lips. “Well that seems to be that sorted,” he said against her lips, pulling back a little to let his forehead fall against hers, “so, what do you think, Evans? Go out with me?”

Still reeling from the surprise kiss, and with her hand clasping his, Lily smiled up at him.

“Yes.”

#jily #jily fanfiction #jily au #Ariel!lily #eric!james #Disney #the little mermaid

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