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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years

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Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 6

Masterlist / Playlist for this angsty mess

Eivor returns from her raid successfully and celebrations are in order. More drunk confessions.

Content Warning for alcohol/food consumption, blood, injury, intoxication

Inspo pic by @anaakeart

A Place in this World

As you left Valka’s hut, you could see people rushing down the hill toward the dock where a small crowd had gathered already. Sigurd and Randvi stood ready to greet Eivor and the other warriors. You arrived just in time to watch Eivor step on solid ground after all the others had already gotten on their way to the longhouse, surrounded by the singing and cheering people who had waited for them all day.

The blonde she-wolf looked exhausted but happy. The sight of her felt like a punch to your gut. She was covered in blood, her beautiful hair was dark and sticking together in thick strands, only her teeth flashing white in the light of the torches as she smiled at the few people left waiting for her.

“Eivor!” Sigmund greeted her, “You were successful!” They shook hands and hugged.

“Did you expect any less?” Eivor taunted him in her deep voice, laughing as he assured her of his confidence in her.

Her eyes brushed over Randvi and a strange expression flickered over her face, vanishing too quickly for you to grasp its meaning. Then her gaze met yours and again, she seemed to be fighting conflicting emotions. At last, she smiled and took a few steps toward you.

“Y/N! All your predictions proved true. You honored us greatly today.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed as Sigurd and Randvi both turned to look at you.

“Is that so?” Sigurd asked with raised eyebrows. “Then it seems that thanks are in order. We shall prepare a welcoming ritual for you to become a member of the Raven clan, if that is your wish.” He gave you a respectful nod and left for the longhouse. Randvi lingered just a moment longer, looking you and Eivor up and down, then she followed him.

Eivor had moved on to greet Valka and this time her face showed nothing but love and warmth. She hugged the healer tightly and pulled something from her pocket. It was a set of long claws on a string. Valka’s face lit up.

“Bear claws! I thought there were no more bears in these lands.” She took them and held them up to her face, inspecting them closely.

“Oh, I suspect the same,” Eivor said, “maybe this was the last one. The Steward wore it around his neck. It didn’t bring him much luck.” She smirked, not knowing how terrifying she looked, drenched in blood and dirt and smelling like death itself. Valka seemed to notice the same.

“Eivor, I mean no disrespect, but… I think you should wash before attending the feast. For your own good and everyone else’s sanity.”

The warrior looked confused for a second, then she laughed out loud and looked at her hands.

“You’re a wise woman, Valka. I should do that.” Her eyes darted to you for a second, then she nodded and laid a fist on her chest. “I will meet you at the longhouse, then.”

You both looked after her as she walked up to her hut, then Valka gently touched your arm.

“Let us celebrate. There is enough time to worry tomorrow or the day after. I think you’re even well enough to have some ale tonight.” She grinned at you and hooked her arm under yours, then you followed the trail of noise to the feast.

The feast was already in full swing; there was a big fire in the middle of the hall and people were eating and drinking, singing and dancing and praising Eivor's warriors for their victory. You quickly found Sfáva, the old cook who greeted you with great excitement. She gave you both plates with meat and vegetables and handed you two clay jugs, which were quickly filled by a young man responsible for the ale barrels. You sat down together at the front of a long table, right at the foot of Sigurd’s table.

You felt Randvi’s eyes on you again, but you decided to simply not waste any more time worrying about her tonight. While you felt genuinely sorry for the heartbreak she had been through, it was not your fault and should not control your life in the clan. So you raised your jug to Sigmund’s first toast of many that evening and emptied half of it in one go. Valka laughed at you and you both dug into your meal, hungry from the long day of talking and worrying.

A murmur went through the crowd when Eivor finally entered the hall. She was all clean now, her blonde, wet hair shining in the light of the torches, a few fresh braids taming the warrior’s mane. She wore the leather pants and a tunic you had repaired and a grey fur cape was draped over her shoulders to protect her from the cold. Her father’s ax and a longsword hung from a belt around her hips.

Her eyes scanned the crowd and found you, your hand that was holding a spoon stopping mid-air as you froze under her gaze. She seemed to take a deep breath and straighten up before coming toward you. She stopped next to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. Her touch burned your skin through the fabric of your tunic, anger and passion, sadness and excitement fighting a battle in your stomach. You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as you looked up at the blonde towering above you.

“Enjoy your meal, Y/N. You deserve it.” She squeezed your shoulder and winked at Valka before turning around and joining her brother at his table, conveniently sitting just a few feet away from you and facing you directly. You just stared at the tabletop and tried not to choke on your food, downing another jug of ale to get yourself to loosen up.

After a while, Sigurd rose to give another speech, this time with and for Eivor at his side. He had already drunk a considerable amount of mead and was slurring his words ever so slightly, but he managed to stay standing up for the whole speech.

“My dear Ravens, my warriors, and my wolf-kissed drengr ! You have made me proud today, proud to call you my clan! I want to thank each and every one of you who fought bravely today.” He raised his drinking horn to each of the people that had been involved in the raid. “I’m glad that we did not have to give away any of our warriors to Valhalla at Fort Winton. Together, we shall make England tremble!”

He swayed slightly as cheers erupted around the hall and Randvi stood up, supporting him with a hand on his back.

“Let us not forget the people who made this possible,” he continued. “My beautiful wife, Randvi, helped plan this raid and made sure our drengrs were well prepared!” He opened his mouth to continue, but Randvi cut him off.

“I thank you, Sigurd, but it was not only me that made this possible. We have to thank the English girl down there!” She pointed at you. “Her willingness to betray her people and tell us everything about their weaknesses enabled us to slice through them like a knife through butter today. Thank you, Y/N!”

Even though most people around you cheered and clapped for you, you felt nothing but white-hot shame and anger rise inside of you. How could she disgrace you like this, after everything you had done for her? Valka placed her hand on yours and shot you a warning look. Eivor had stayed silent and you could see out of the corner of your eye that her hands were balled up into fists. You risked a look at her and she met your gaze, shaking her head almost unnoticeably and telling you without words how sorry she was for Randvi’s behavior.

As soon as everyone had gone back to eating and talking, Eivor got up from the table, shot Randvi an icy look, and vanished into one of the back rooms. Randvi seemed unnerved, shuffling her feet as she waited for the right moment to get up as well. When one of the warriors came up to Sigurd to ask him something, she excused herself and went after Eivor. You and Valka exchanged a look, then she nodded.

You got up, took your empty jug, and quietly made your way toward the back of the hall. Keeping your head down, you passed a couple that was already half undressed in one of the alcoves and a man sitting on the floor and sleeping upright against the wall, his loud snores muffling your steps. Finally, you heard voices.

“-was the truth! I don’t trust her after she willingly betrayed her people and neither should you!”

“Do not speak to me of betrayal!” Eivor’s voice was cold. “Ever since she arrived here, you have been on a warpath. Can’t you accept that something is not about you for once?”

“Eivor -” Randvi sounded desperate. “I don’t mean any harm, you know that. I just want to protect you. This girl, something is wrong about her. Why did she give up so easily?”

“Because her fucking master made her life a living hell, that is why! Here she finally had a chance to be treated with respect. But it seems you won’t grant her that, you won’t leave her in peace nor will you finally let me go!” Eivor kicked something and it crashed through the room. You pressed yourself into your corner and held your breath.

“Eivor.” Randvi suddenly spoke sweetly, her voice endearing. “Don’t act like you actually want that. We belong together, last night proved that yet again.” Eivor huffed at her words.

“Last night was a grave mistake. I was drunk and you caught me off guard outside. I admit that it felt good for the moment, but as soon as I left I knew I should not have given in. You have to accept my decision.” Eivor sighed. When she continued, she just sounded terribly sad and exhausted. “I do not love you anymore. And I cannot betray Sigurd any longer. Why can’t we part gracefully and accept that our time together has come to an end? Why are you fighting this losing battle?”

There was silence for a moment and you were about to hurry off when you heard a sob. Randvi was crying.

“I can’t, Eivor, I can’t lose you. You are the only person who has ever understood me, who has made me feel complete and made my life worth living. I am no one without you, nothing but an empty shell. I cannot bring myself to let you go. The pain of loving you is tearing me apart, but I still dread the pain of letting you go too much to loosen my grip.”

Your heart dropped at her words. She loved Eivor deeply, and she was acting out of desperation. That was why she had treated you like this. Eivor the Heartbreaker. Randvi’s crying sounded muffled now, maybe Eivor was holding her to soothe her. Then Randvi cleared her throat.

“I will try to treat the English girl fairly from now on. She has no idea what she stumbled into and it is not her fault.” A weight lifted off your chest at her words. “But Eivor, promise me this: do not make any rash decisions and be careful who you trust. Do not hurt me on purpose, I beg you. Give me time and stay by my side through this. I cannot live without you.”

When Eivor next spoke, she was also crying.

“Oh Randvi, what cruel fate have the Gods given us? I wish it was not so, I never wished to cause you any sorrow. I promise I won’t leave you, but I can’t be with you anymore. What happened between us is over and I sincerely hope” - she gasped for air - “that we can continue to be the close friends we always were. I don’t want to lose you either.”

You had heard enough. Slowly, you backed away from the dark room and made your way to Sfáva, thanking her for the great meal and filling up your jug. As you turned toward the open hall, you noticed that Valka was no longer sitting at your table and nowhere to be seen. You had a feeling that she had snuck away with her lover again and smiled into your ale at the thought. Looking up, you saw Randvi sitting down at the table again, her face turned away from Sigurd as she emptied her drinking horn in one swig.

You jumped when Eivor suddenly appeared next to you. Her eyes were glazed and her lashes still wet, but she tried to gave you a brave smile.

“How have you been, little bird?” The sight of her face and the hope in her eyes twisted your stomach and almost made you bend over in pain. You swallowed hard.

“Good. I spent the day with Valka. I’m healing.”

Eivor nodded and stared into her drinking horn.

“I just wanted to say -” she gave you a quick look, then she turned fully toward you. “I am deeply grateful for your help in this. We would have fought much longer and suffered many losses, had you not prepared us for this day. Thank you.”

She reached out a hand for you and then stopped, letting it fall to her side. Following her movement with your eyes, you suddenly noticed a fresh blood stain forming on her hip below her belt, hidden by the handle of the ax. You immediately forgot all your resentment and sorrow and stepped closer, lifting the heavy ax to inspect her side.

“Eivor - are you hurt?”

She gently took the weapon from your hands and let it fall back down, flinching when its weight pulled on the belt and pressed against her wound.

“It’s nothing, sweet Y/N. Just a scratch. The man that caused it paid with his life.” She took a swig of mead and looked around the room.

“They are celebrating my victory, yet I do not feel vindictive at all. Everything feels muted today.”

You were at a loss for words. What could you possibly say that would make her feel better without giving away what you knew? And after all, she had hurt you, too. So you just hummed in approval and shuffled your feet, waiting for her to say something.

The silence between you got longer and more uncomfortable until suddenly a younger member of the clan stumbled drunkenly toward you. Eivor caught him with one hand before he could land in your arms or run you into the ground.

“Get it together, Norvid,” she hissed and gave him a shove toward his friend that had come after him and was laughing loudly.

“Sorry, Eivor. Milady.” The drunk man bowed to you before his friend dragged him away. His words confused you. Milady? Was he mocking you? Was this the result of Randvi’s side blow against you earlier? You sighed and were actually thankful when you spotted Lewin, the butcher from Williamsburg that had taken up work here, too.

You excused yourself with a nod toward Eivor, then you rushed to join your old companion. He was happy to see you and introduced you enthusiastically to his new friends. He told you that Aelfric and Hal were at the stables to check on the horses and get their new dice game. They were going to be back soon.

When they returned, you all dutifully marveled at the board and dice the men had whittled themselves, then Hal explained the rules. After a few rounds, you joined in, too. To the other men’s surprise, you quickly got the hang of it and started beating them in every game. After you had made them get you more ale and stripped them of their coin and a small wooden bird Aelfric had carved today, you willingly backed off and watched the others play.

Even though you did not dare to turn your head toward the back of the hall, you could hear Eivor’s rough baritone a few times, then came her drunk laughter, getting louder as the evening progressed. The sound of it still stung. You wished you could talk to Valka about the conversation you had overheard, but she did not return. Maybe she had gone to bed; you knew she was not really a person for big celebrations.

You had eaten enough to build a base for all the ale you were drinking. Even though you felt a bit lightheaded, you were not even close to drunkenness. Years of drinking hard burned liquor with the other servants at night had built up your tolerance and you and the three others from Williamsburg could not help but laugh at the state some of the Vikings were in. Maybe you could try to make your infamous barley spirit and test its effect on a few selected warriors. Valka probably had the equipment needed for brewing more than just ale.

When you went to fill up your jug, you noticed Eivor talking to Sváfa behind the hearth fire. They were sitting on the bench and speaking Norwegian, a language that still had not opened its doors to you. They both looked up with an expression like you had caught them in the middle of something. You just smiled and shrugged, turning your back to them and asking for a refill from the boy at the barrel.

As you turned back around, Eivor was standing directly in front of you. You could feel her warm breath on your face, smelling of ale and the dried fruit she had been sharing with Sfáva. It made your heart crumble like burned coals. You could almost feel the pieces drop to the bottom of your stomach and disintegrate into fine ashes as you waited for her to speak.

“Little bird.” She was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed from drinking again. “Can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

You nodded and she took your hand, pulling you with her into an alcove. Her touch sent shockwaves up your arm, fading away in the hollow of your chest where they only found the burned remnants of your heart.

“Y/N, I think I have made it obvious in the time we have had together so far that I have unusually strong feelings toward you. I was unsure of their meaning, but I know now.”

She swayed back and forth and had to lean sideways against the wall to still herself. Her eyes were glossy and almost blank, but a desperate desire was buried deep within them.

“Little bird, I cannot bear the moments in which you are not by my side. You are on my mind no matter what I am doing, even in battle.”

Her hand instinctively moved to the now big and visible bloodstain on her tunic. What was that supposed to mean? You spoke without thinking.

“Did the thought of me distract you from your task? Am I to blame for your wound?”

“Oh, Gods no. No blame lies with you. For anything.” She furrowed her brows, leaning closer.

“You are the reason I’m still standing. You brought me luck and glory today.” Her voice got quiet and she placed a hand on your good cheek. “You were sent to me by the Gods, it is meant to be.”

Before you could even realize what was even happening, her mouth was on yours. You were stunned for a moment, completely encased by her warmth and the softness of her lips. Slowly coming back to your senses, you placed your hands on her chest and gently pushed her away from you.

Her head fell forward and her mouth hung open. When she raised her head, she looked confused.

“Little bird…” she mumbled, holding onto your shoulders to stay upright. “Come to me…”

“Eivor, I can’t do this now. You’re drunk.” Your throat closed up and you were on the verge of crying.

Pull it together. Be strong! You took a deep breath.

“Eivor! We’re going to go back to your hut now and I’m going to help you to bed. Understood?” You gave your best commanding tone and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, supporting her weight with all your strength. “Come on, now.”

You stepped out of the dark alcove and into the hall. Most of the other people were just as drunk as Eivor, stumbling around or already sleeping on the tables. When you looked up to the front table, your eyes met Randvi’s. You could see the silent pain in her eyes. She held your gaze for a moment, then she nodded almost unnoticeably and looked away. Eivor the Heartbreaker .

You made it out of the hall without further distractions and met Lewin outside. He understood immediately and grabbed Eivor’s other arm to support her from the other side. The large woman was already half asleep between you. You steered her toward her hut and opened the door with your foot, then the two of you maneuvered her inside and laid her down on the bed. You thanked Lewin and he left for the longhouse again.

Whispering an apology to Birna, you pulled off Eivor’s boots and the fur that was fastened around her shoulders before covering her with a thin blanket. What now? Should you sleep here, next to Eivor?

You needed some space to think, so you slipped out of the hut again, Birna following you silently and vanishing into the bushes. You sat down on a tree trunk next to the cabin and hugged your knees to your chest, letting your eyes wander over all the wooden houses with their white roofs and the torches lighting the pathways. You could hear the laughter and singing from the longhouse in the distance, but the silence of the snow in the woods behind you was louder. It encased you and carried you away, finally granting you some peace of mind. After a while, the cat came back and jumped into your arms. You held her close.

This day had overwhelmed you with too many new ideas, stories, and possibilities, too much knowledge you did not know how to use. You and Eivor were destined to be together, you knew it and she felt it, too. There would be difficult times, this being one of them, on your path together. Eivor had to let go of Randvi irrevocably and Randvi had to step away from both of you. Eivor needed to figure out what she wanted and learn to express herself without being blackout drunk, to hold herself accountable for her actions, and to fight for what she wanted.

You did not know what exactly the future would bring, but for now, you decided to stay at Eivor’s side. Today more than ever she had shown you how terribly lost she was and how she longed to find and be found. Maybe you could pull her back on the path destined for her. She had given you a new life full of possibilities, it was only fair that you tried to help her find her way, too.

Pressing Birna to your chest, you got up and quietly entered the hut again. You placed your shoes under the bed and took off your coat, then you slipped under the heavy quilt and made space for the cat who curled up against your chest. There was love for you here. You would fight like hell to find it.

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rrickgrrimes8 · 4 years

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Normality is Death

Chapter Six ~ The Graves

masterlist

"I thought I had lost you, you know?" Jacey whispers breaking the eerie silence between the two, she knew that Addie was mad at her but at least arguing would be better than the deafening quiet, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Addie looked at her and sighed not saying a word, "It felt like my whole world came crashing down when I saw them take you away from me. I know we're not on good terms at the moment but I can never lose you, no matter what." She looked to her again feeling an intense urge to kiss her. "I-I sat there for hours, just waiting. Waiting for you to just appear like you would and be okay. But after a while I feared you never would," Jacey smiled, "but I guess you never seemed to disappoint."

Addie smiled at this looking deeply at the girl's piercing blue eyes, "Why didn't you go with them, Jacey? They are your family after all." "You know why," She mumbled distantly as they wandered through the trail edging closer back to their home. "No, I don't. And even if I did I couldn't understand what would be so important you could throw them away," Upon seeing that Jacey continued to walk away Addie grabbed her hand softly, "Talk to me, love."

"Don't call me that, Addie. You made it more than clear that you want nothing to do with me," She spat bitterly. Addie stepped back, cowering away from the girl. She wanted to be angry that Jacey had said that to her but Addie had to admit that she was right although she didn't mean a word Jacey had said to her. "I'm sorry, Jacey," Addie mumbled attempting to meet her eyes but finding that that was the last thing she wanted. "Then why did you do it?" before Addie could answer an unmistakable scream sounded from across the hill, from if Addie's mapping skills were anything to go by was her families camp.

With a unique sense of urgency that came all to familiar to Addie, she released Jacey's hand and before she could stop herself said, "That's the way to their camp." The 'their' in question quickly resonated in Jacey's mind as her father's camp. Pouncing with her right foot forward in the direction of the chaos, Jacey gripped her bag tightly, offering no farewell for the girl she felt so strongly for.

"Go back to camp, tell Mitchell where I am," She ordered her. Addie shouted back to her as Jacey was running further and further away by each moment that progressed, "Be careful, Grimes. I love you." Jacey turned her head slightly offering an acute smile, "Stop acting like your never going to see me again," Addie sighed, "Oh and I love you too!" Jacey soon disappeared off into the opposite direction leaving Addie to walk towards her home, content with everything.

Jacey turned the corner unravelling the scene laid out in front of her. She passed a bloodied tent overflowed with biters and gulped just knowing that there had to have been a person inside there - she just hoped it wasn't her family.

The brunette snuck into the camp, eyeing a body lying hopelessly on the floor blood spewing out of her many wounds, a young blonde girl, older then Jacey but still young enough for someone to be angry at this world for doing it to her. Sat beside her was another blonde, Jacey pointed out to herself the similarities between them and assumed that they were siblings, which made her feel even worse. Drawing her attention away from the two girls was the screams of a little girl, she was blonde too - they haven't got a shortage of blondes in this camp do they she thought to herself suppressing a smile. She approached the girl quickly realising the familiarity of which that she had met her that night before she was left, the child of the nice lady with the cookies.

Jacey grabbed her hand pulling her away from the dead that was clambering after her, "Hey it's okay just follow me okay?" The child looks at her confused about who she was and where she came from but nodded and let her pull her along and towards the RV. "Sophia! Sophia! Please, baby, where are you?!" Jacey heard and searched trying to match the voice to a face. She soon did as did the girl, Sophia, and barrelled towards her. "Oh my baby, my baby," the short-haired cookie lady wrapped her dainty arms around the girl sweeping her off her feet before turning to her daughter's saviour, "You're..." Jacey didn't let the woman finish before ushing her towards the RV where she noticed most of the group was congregated, "Go, you'll be safe with them." And without a word, Jacey crept away grabbing her machete from her belt and planting it into the skull of one of the many biters that roamed the area. She watched the mother and daughter return to their group, the mother's mouth ajar and shocked to see the girl, who everyone was so adamant was dead.

Not long after the young girl, still in search of her long lost family, stumbled upon the familiar face of her mother. She was being cornered by one of those things as was Carl who had his tiny arms curled around her torso. Jacey stalked behind the biter undetected by all of them and unleashed her strength through her weapon, slicing through the monsters head. Lori watched in shock holding Carl to her chest even tighter, not letting him watch as the walker split in two, uncovering her dead daughter.

"J-Jacey," The woman cries inaudibly. Carl closes his eyes tighter thinking that perhaps his sister was one of the dead overthrowing his home. "Go to the RV, find dad and Shane," The woman remained unmoving paralysed by the idea her daughter was alive and breathing in front of her, "Now!"

Lori jumped at her tone and thought about lecturing her about it right then and there but soon realised it was an inappropriate scene. "And do me a favour, mom?" She nodded, "Don't tell dad." Lori didn't wait for an explanation before nodding and grabbing ahold of Carl's arm attempting to pull him away but felt that his feet were grounded into the dirt, "Carl, baby lets go," she pleaded, eyeing the nearing walkers. "No, I don't want to leave her! I don't want her to go again!" Carl sobbed trying to claw his way out of his mother's grip. Jacey looked at her little brother, getting the feeling that haunts her on most nights, the feeling of pure unimaginable grief.

No words were spoken between the family, except for Carl's cries, as Lori pulled him away and towards the rest of the group. The older woman turned the corner getting greeted by her concerned husband, "Lori! Carl! Thank god." Lori remained wordless still holding her wailing son, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She shook her head looking back in the direction she came from and then back to Rick. "Mom t-take me back please," Carl shrieked once again. Rick looked to his son confused as to why he was in such a state but was interrupted as Shane and the others returned guns blazing. Shane made eye contact with him and threw him his Colt Python, Rick catching without any difficulty, trying to ignore the look of guilt Shane's eyes held, that matched the ones in his wife's.

Shaking off the feeling, Rick reloaded his gun and started to fire at the dead hitting them straight on target every time, while Shane marched towards the distressed mother and son. "J-Jacey," Lori began catching Shane's attention immediately, "S-she was here." Shane could almost smile if not for the complete and utter anarchy that was happening around him - she came back to her family just like he knew she would. "I know, Lori but right now you need to get Carl inside he's drawing more of them over here, alright?" Despite Lori's shock at his response, she nodded and pulled Carl into the vehicle.

Catching up to Rick quickly, the two police officers fought against the monster's, side by side, Shane looking thoroughly for any sight of his godchild. Jacey watched from a distance firing off perfectly positioned bullets to the attackers, careful not to misfire on any humans. She observed her father closely unable to hide the excitement she felt knowing he was, in fact, alive. The excitement, however, didn't stop the fear of how he would react to her coming back and worry about what she would do afterwards, whether to stay with her family or reunite with Addie.

Anxiety coursed through her veins as she exited out of the woods and into the main part of the camp casually searching for any more biters. Rick along with Glenn and Shane finished off the remaining walkers attempting to catch their breath as they did. Glenn couldn't help but to send cautious glances to Rick wondering if he knew yet or if he was to ever find out. Rick noticed this, however, and asked, "You okay, Glenn?" "F-fine," He stuttered, unable to meet his eyes. The officer merely nodded in confusion and walked over to the RV where everyone had come back out. Andrea remained on the floor cradling the dying body of her sister that would soon turn, while everyone shot looks of pity at her.

As Rick approached he was surprised to see Carl had calmed down finally and was sitting silently next to his mother. The younger boy looked up at the sound of footsteps and ran to meet his father, "Dad!" Rick caught him bringing him into a much-needed hug, "I saw her dad. She's here." He looked down at his child disoriented, "Who is bud?" "J-" "No one, Rick, ignore him. He's just tired," Lori intervened earning a doubtful glance from Rick.

"No you're lying she was there. Mom you saw her too I know you did!" He snapped the anger overcoming him, he just wanted his sister back. "Hey, it's okay, Carl. Who was here?" He crouched down to his son, ignoring the lingering presence of his wife. "Jac-" He attempted but was interrupted by a hoarse voice shouting, "Walker!" Rick stood up straight and snapped around to the voice. Stood merely 10 feet from the group was a limping, grotesque walker ready to kill them all. The man brought his revolver out of his holster and aimed it straight ahead, ready to pull the trigger.

But before he could do so a gunshot cut him off, which penetrated through the walkers' skull adequately. Rick kept his gun up unsure of where the gunshot came from and who shot it as did the other armed people in the camp. The corpse fell to the ground slowly uncovering the small frame of a 14-year-old girl. "Jacey!" Carl roared, pushing past everyone and throwing himself into his sister's arms, almost knocking them both down. "J-Jacey," Rick whispered dropping his gun carelessly before sprinting towards the girl much as Carl did moments before. The man stopped a few feet in front of her examining her hoping this wasn't just a figment of his imagination caused by the trauma and exhaustion from the attack.

"Daddy?" she sniffled, letting the tears fall from her bright blue eyes. "Angel," the father said, before enveloping her into a tight embrace. The girl clung to her father, crying into his chest as he did the same into her hair, while Carl continued to hug the two.

"You're here, you're alive. They said you died," He pulled back slightly, still keeping her in his arms, looking over at Shane and Lori who wore a look of gut-wrenching guilt. "They thought I had and I mean I gave them enough reason for them to come to that conclusion," she smiled looking over her father's shoulder at the man who had saved her so many times, to which he happily returned. "Where have you been?" "That's not important for now we need to make sure everyone's okay," Rick looked at his daughter looking past the blood and mud that caked her face and into her eyes that seemed so aged since he last saw her, too old for someone her age.

"She's right," Shane spoke from behind him, "We've got to clean this place up if we're thinking of surviving another night." Others nodded at his statement as Rick brought his two children back to the RV. He smiled to himself happily at the idea of two children and finally getting his angel back.

"Amy. I don't know what to do, Amy. Oh, Amy. Oh no no," Andrea sobbed into the crook of her neck as she saw the lack of gargled breaths Amy was taking. One of the blondes, Amy, looked to her sister, crying harshly, and brought her frail hand to her cheek as if saying goodbye without the words and shut her eyes taking her final rest. "Amy! Amy! Amy!" Andrea wailed shaking the now dead body of her sister. Carl gripped onto Jacey's hand whimpering softly at the death of his friend.

Jacey looked down to the boy before wrapping her arms around him kissing his forehead gently, "It's okay, squirt," she looked around the group of traumatised faces, "everything's going to be okay."

"I remember my dream now," An older, pale man said to the group, "why I dug the holes."

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words-with-wren · 4 years

Text

it’s alright, it’s okay, you’re not a monster, just a human

Surprise sequel to my last fic, we all have wings but some of us don’t know why. Probably best to read that one first.

___

It was dark when Tubbo woke, feeling strangely comfortable. For a long moment, he drifted, feeling pleasantly warm and comfortable for the first time in… he didn’t know how long.

Then his memory returned and he burrowed deeper into the covers, pulling them over his head and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He fought down tears, the aching pit in his heart that had been present ever since Tommy had left (ever since he had sent Tommy away to die) threatening to devour everything.

He had spent many, many nights curled on his bed, trying and failing to sleep. Even more nights where he hadn’t even tried, staring over the paperwork he needed to do, the plans for the nation he needed to address. It felt strange to have actually slept properly -- and a good sleep, at that -- but he knew he wasn’t going to sleep again that night.

His throat was dry and he sat up in bed, taking in the small room. It took him a long moment to recognise Phil’s bedroom -- an empty bed he assumed was Phil’s in the corner. He rubbed an eye, realizing with a squirm of embarrassment that Phil must have carried him up here when he fell asleep -- he didn’t remember ever leaving the basement.

(Part of him liked that -- liked that Phil had taken the time to settle him into bed. It made him feel safe -- wanted. Liked.

All things he didn’t deserve after everything he’d done.)

He wrapped his arms around his knees, the phantom echo of Phil’s embrace clinging to him.

He should leave -- he’d overstayed his welcome long enough. The day had been nice -- nicer than he could admit, possibly the nicest he’d had in a long time. But he was the president, and Phil didn’t even like him.

Tubbo couldn’t blame him, really.

He stood, slipping his socked feet onto the smooth wooden floor. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing slightly as he came in contact with his helmet. He’d have to get rid of that - maybe a respawn was needed if he couldn’t bring the durability down enough. It had been a moment of weakness, a moment of foolish fear and childish desire and he almost regretted it.

He glanced around for his shoes, seeing them placed neatly beside the bed (why had Phil carried him up here? Why had he taken the time to put him to bed like a child? Why hadn’t he just thrown him out and finally be rid of him). He pulled the shoes on and stood, padding silently towards the ladder downstairs.

The ladder creaked slightly as he climbed down and he froze, listening for any sign of Phil, heart beating quickly, hands tight on the wood. When there was no sound, he continued down, stepping lightly onto the floor.

Friend lifted his head as Tubbo moved slowly across the room. He motioned a hushing noise towards the sheep, as though that would silence it, but it didn’t pay him any attention and let out a soft bleat.

“Quiet,” Tubbo hissed. He glanced towards the water elevator, hoping Phil was deep enough underground to not hear. Why he was putting so much effort into sneaking out, he wasn’t sure -- it wasn’t like Phil hadn’t been trying to get rid of him all day.

(He had shown a moment of vulnerability he hadn’t shown to anyone else down in that basement. To his… enemy? Was Phil his enemy? Tubbo didn’t want him to be, but maybe he was. He was allied with Technoblade, after all.

He didn’t want to face the man he had once seen as a father figure. The man he had shot only a few days ago. The man he desperately wanted to make proud. The man he had locked in house arrest).

He almost made it too. He had even opened the door when Phil appeared, surprisingly silent, from behind the ladder. Tubbo froze, eyes darting quickly, heart thumping as Phil paused, catching sight of him.

“Tubbo?” he asked, his voice soft in the dark room. Tubbo didn’t know what to say. “Where are you going?”

Home, Tubbo wanted to say, but that was a lie. He didn’t have a home. He hadn’t in a long time. Even before becoming president, he hadn’t had a place he’d known as home.

(Not a place, exactly. But a loud, boisterous laugh. Mischievous blue eyes. A tall, lanky figure who teased him and he teased back. A bench and a music box and a disc and a sunset and most importantly a friend by his side.

That was gone now. Tubbo had made sure of it.)

“I -” His mouth was dry. “Sorry. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s alright, mate,” Phil said. He deposited some items into a chest and moved to where Tubbo was standing, gently closing the door outside. “It’s late, you should go back to bed.”

Tubbo blinked, wrapping an arm around himself. Did Phil want him to stay?

(Phil was right beside him and Tubbo couldn’t help but remember the hug from earlier. And oh, he hadn’t been hugged like that in such a long time. He wanted it again. Wanted more. But he knew he couldn’t ask for it.)

“I should go,” he muttered. He was going to cry again, why was he going to cry again. (He wanted his compass. He wanted the comfort, the last memory of his best friend.

But he’d lost it. He’d lost it and it had been destroyed - he’d been careless and stupid and the compass was gone and so was Tommy and it was Tubbo’s fault he had sent his best friend away had left him alone had thrown him aside and hadn’t thought to visit had left him to the demons and monsters of his mind and a pillar stood where Tommy once had and craters were all that was left of him and this time there was nothing there was no one left to rebuild to make it beautiful again because Tommy was gone and Tubbo had done that and -)

“Tubbo?”

Phil laid a hand on his shoulder and Tubbo couldn't help but lean into the touch, furiously rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He was the president, not some silly child. He shouldn’t be breaking down again in the house of an enemy of his country.

“I should go,” he whispered again, his voice stiff and thick. But Phil didn’t let go of his shoulder, just watching him with a long stare that Tubbo couldn’t keep eye contact with. He looked down, blinking.

“How about we take another trip,” Phil suggested, and Tubbo looked up at him through his hair. “I think you need a break.”

“I can’t,” Tubbo said tiredly. (Oh, he wanted to say yes. He wanted to so, so badly. He wanted to leave it all behind, to be able to rest and sleep. But he couldn’t. He had let Tommy down, he couldn’t let L’manburg down. Not when he had chosen the country over his best friend.)

(Besides, he couldn’t rest. Not with the memory of tears and rain on his face. Not with the shadow of the pillar that was Tommy’s grave was over his heart.)

“Why not?” Phil asked, and Tubbo met his eyes. “What is left of L’manberg, really?”

Tubbo wanted to say a lot of things. He wanted to say that L’manberg was about freedom for all. It was a place for all and everyone to be welcome. A place with no walls. A place to be able to relax and laugh with friends.

But that would be a lie. Maybe L’manberg had been like that once, a long, long time ago. (A lifetime ago, when he had been young and part of a pair). But her streets were quiet and her citizens fearful.

Those that were left.

“I - I have to stay,” he muttered. He needed to make it better. That was his job - he was president, he was in charge. He had to fix things. He had to make it work because he hadn’t left when he had the chance. He hadn’t left with Tommy and he had chosen his fate and this was where he was to stay.

There was nowhere else he could go, anyway. Not without his other half.

Phil shifted, laying his other hand on Tubbo’s other shoulder and crouching slightly so they were level. His eyes were soft - far softer than Tubbo expected.

Far softer than Tubbo deserved.

“Tubbo, you’re allowed to leave. You’re still just a kid -- you shouldn’t be expected to run a whole country, especially not on your own. Come with me -- rest. Recover. You’ve been through a lot, I know a place.”

If it weren’t the middle of the night, and if Tubbo wasn’t exhausted from his breakdown earlier and if Phil’s hands weren’t so, so warm on his shoulders maybe he would have said no. But at the moment, all he wanted was rest. All he wanted was to leave, to get away, to stop having to worry about his cabinet getting along or silly dispute or a dying country he couldn’t revive.

So he dropped his head and nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered, softly.

Phil squeezed his shoulder gently and stepped back, moving to his chests. Tubbo watched him for a moment, absently lifting a hand to where Phil’s had just left. He felt the absence almost as much as the hands themselves.

“Do you need to pack anything?” Phil asked, and Tubbo shook his head. Everything he needed was either in his inventory or his ender chest.

It came with not having a home.

“Alright, dress warmly, it’s cold,” Phil said. He finished organising, ruffled Friend’s wool a little and smiled at Tubbo, still standing by the door.

“I -- I don’t have anything to wear,” Tubbo muttered. Phil frowned, nodded, and turned to a chest, rummaging through for a moment before withdrawing a cloak. It was a pale blue, trimmed with white, yellow and hints of red.

Tubbo pulled it over his shoulders and followed Phil out the door.

They travelled the same path they had taken to the Nether portal that afternoon, but it felt different. Tubbo paused on the hill and glanced back at L’manberg, feeling an aching in his chest, a lump in his throat.

His gaze lingered on the van (he had made that, recreated it when he was optimistic about the future, despite all he had been through), memories of a better time, of hopeful rebellion, of laughter and friendship and a wall that had meant hope instead of despair washing over him.

Fundy, grinning as they bickered over an insignificant treat. Fundy, eyes dark and haunted while he informed Tubbo he was leaving to start a new city.

Eret, ruffling Tubbo’s hair as they worked on the walls together. Eret, eyes hidden behind cold glasses and colder voice when he betrayed them.

Wilbur, sitting in the entrance of the van, playing a soft tune while the sun set golden over his nation. Wilbur, laughing mad and broken in the rubble of their home.

Tommy, arm over Tubbo’s shoulder. Tommy, teasing, joking, laughing. Tommy, eyes shining with life and chaos and happiness.

Tommy, staring up at Tubbo through the rain, a shocked and betrayed expression frozen on his face.

Tommy...

When had it all gone so wrong?

Phil was waiting for him when he turned, wiping a hand across his face. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Tubbo and they were silent as they slipped through the dark paths.

The lump in Tubbo’s throat grew as they stepped through the portal, Phil not hesitating as he moved onto one of the paths leading away. One of Tommy’s paths. For a moment, Tubbo looked towards the end, wondering if he could make out the portal. Wondering if he could see the pillar all the way from here.

He followed Phil as the man moved off the path, confidently picking his way through the unstable Nether terrain. Another portal slowly came into view and Tubbo wondered how long it had been there.

The cold of the Overworld was a slap to the face as Tubbo stepped through the portal. He gasped, pulling the cloak tightly around him as they stepped into a snowy wasteland. Phil grinned back at him.

“Not far now,” he said. “Just… trust me.”

The words made Tubbo’s chest twist and he almost turned back. Unease continued growing as they moved deeper inland, snow swirling softly around them, picked up by the slight breeze. Tubbo pulled his cloak tightly around him, itching for a sword, a weapon, anything, in hand.

He was beginning to have a suspicion as to where they were going.

"Phil,” he began, uncertainly. “Where -”

And he stopped, the words caught in his throat. He stopped in his tracks, hand dropping away from the cloak, eyes welling once again.

Just becoming visible, rising high above the world, was a tower. An ugly, horrible, eye-sore of a cobblestone tower, reaching to the sky as though defying Tubbo.

He blinked, trying to force down the tears, the wave of bubbling emotion the sight of it caused. The tower was so Tommy he wanted to break down. Had Tommy been here -- before…? No, that wasn’t possible. But who else could have made this?

Was it all some kind of sick joke? Had Phil dragged him out here for revenge?

If he was being honest, Tubbo didn’t really care. At least it was a break, a change from the dragging routine of being president.

Phil had stopped, looking back at him with a curious expression.

“Tubbo?” he asked, and every time he said Tubbo’s name he wanted to break down and be ten years old again and safe in Phil’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Tubbo said, and it was the biggest lie he had ever said. Phil saw through him but didn’t say anything, just waited for Tubbo to catch up to him and continued moving.

“Stay close for the moment,” he said. “I’ll need to clear things up first.”

Tubbo nodded, but he wasn’t really paying attention. The shadow of the cobblestone tower mingled with the shadow of the pillar and he didn’t care anymore.

Had Tommy missed him as much as he missed Tommy? As much as he would always miss Tommy?

Had Tommy thought of him, before he jumped?

If so, was fond memories or was it in anger?

The small cottage that Tubbo recognised without any surprise m came into view. The horse wasn’t in the small pen out the front, and Tubbo felt a stab of guilt at that. Another thing to add to the sea of guilt he was already drowning in.

“Phil - I thought you… what’s he doing here?”

Tubbo looked up at Technoblade’s voice, his breath frozen suddenly in his throat. The warrior was terrifying in the snowy night - a blue cloak fluttering around his knees, his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Tubbo. Tubbo's heart was beating rapidly, and the urge to run was suddenly so overwhelmingly strong. But he didn’t. He stood his ground, and Phil stepped softly between them, holding up his hands.

“Relax, Techno,” he said. “Tubbo just needs a place to stay.”

“And you really thought I was the best person he should stay with.” Techno’s voice was devoid of emotion, but Tubbo bit his lip, knowing he wasn’t going to be allowed to stay. “I’m not a daycare, Phil.”

"I’ll stay as well. He’s a kid, Techno. He needs a place to recover. He needs somewhere away from L'manberg.”

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo said, and he wasn’t even aware he had spoken. He stepped forward, away from the safety of Phil. Techno was as intimidating as always, eyes glinting, hands gripped tightly around a pickaxe that Tubbo knew could do some damage (he had seen Quackity’s scars).

His chest was tight as he stepped forward, as he stared at the man in front of him (and the yellow walls closed around him. And the fireworks lit up the night. And the pain burst through his chest.)

“I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I’m sorry,” he repeated, lowering his gaze. If Technoblade wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t resist. It was the least he deserved.

A hand rested lightly on his shoulder and he started, looking up at Phil. The older man had fixed Techno with a long gaze, and after a long moment of silence Techno nodded, once, and Tubbo drew in a tight breath.

Was he really going to be allowed to stay?

Did he want to stay?

“Oi, Big Man - I think I found one of those zombie fellas you - Philza!”

A loud voice shattered the silence of the night and Tubbo’s heart stopped. He looked up, almost fast enough to crack his neck, blood running cold, heart frozen in his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn’t breathe and a blur of white and red and yellow hair ran across the snow towards them.

Tommy was here.

Tommy was with Technoblade.

Tommy was alive.

He couldn’t breathe.

Tommy skidded to a stop suddenly, the excitement on his face changing abruptly to a guarded expression as he caught sight of Tubbo. He was different -- different to when Tubbo had seen him last. His hair was longer, shaggy and hanging around his neck. More scars were scattered across his face, his eyes darting with a wariness Tubbo didn't often see on him. But it was still him -- still so very Tommy and so very alive.

Phil stepped back, his hand slipping off Tubbo’s shoulder, giving the two teenagers their space.

(Tubbo couldn’t breathe)

“How?” he whispered, taking a half step forward.

(How was he here? How was he alive.)

(He hates me. He must, he has to. It was my fault, it was all my fault).

“Tubbo.” Tommy’s voice was tight, tense, covering hidden anger.

“I -” Tubbo didn’t know what to say. “You’re alive.”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” Tommy demanded, folding his arms, eyes flashing.

"I - I went to visit-”

“Oh no, you didn’t!” Tommy was always quick to anger, quick to shout, quick to explode. “I was there for months, and you didn’t visit me once!”

“I - I did,” Tubbo tried. “I did, but Dream kept… I thought you didn’t want-”

“You didn’t even come to my party!” Tommy snapped. “And I know you got invitations, I know you did!”

"I didn’t!” Tubbo cried. “I thought you didn’t want me there.” He bit his lip, looking down, hands shaking.

“Don’t try that,” Tommy spat. “Dream told me you got the invitations, he made sure of it.”

“I would have come,” Tubbo muttered. He stepped forward, feeling like his chest was going to explode.

(Tommy was alive.)

(Tommy hated him.)

(But Tommy was alive.)

Something shifted in Tommy’s expression at that, but he didn’t give any ground, anger still spilling off his form.

“Sure,” he spat.

“I would have. Tommy, please, I -” He took a shaky breath. “I went to visit you, and I found the pillar and I thought…” he trailed off, and something in Tommy’s eyes made Tubbo wonder just how close he had been to jumping. Tubbo’s heart ached. That was his fault. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Sure you are,” Tommy said. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you threw me out.” His eyes blazed, covering the hurt he was feeling. Anger was his defence, Tubbo knew him well enough to know that.

It had faded though, and Tubbo could see a little of the tiredness lingering behind the rage.

“I am!” he cried. “I’m so, so sorry. Exiling you was the biggest mistake of my life.” He was crying, but he didn’t care. “I understand if you hate me, I - I’ll leave, but please know that I’m sorry.”

“I missed you,” he wanted to say, wanted to scream. But he couldn’t. Because he didn’t deserve to miss the person he had thrown aside.

Tommy didn’t meet his eyes, most of his fire faded.

“I don’t hate you,” he said finally and when he looked up Tubbo was startled to see there were tears in his eyes. “I…” His hands shifted up, to where a chain linked around his neck, a compass identical to Tubbo’s lost one resting on his chest. “I thought you hated me.”

The words sent a sword into Tubbo’s heart, an aching, aching pain. How had it ever got to this? How could they ever have allowed the world to tear them apart?

“I could never, Tommy Innit,” he said quietly.

“I missed you,” Tommy muttered and Tubbo bit his lip, the tears flowing freely.

"Me too,” he whispered.

And then Tommy moved forward, pulling him into a tight hug and Tubbo wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend, and they were both crying, clinging to each other and for the first time in a long, long time, Tubbo felt whole again.

#dream smp #tubbo #tubbo_#dream smp fanfiction #clingy duo #philza minecraft #clingyblr #tommyinnit #my writing #hurt/comfort #tubbo needs a HUG and he gets one

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what-if-i-imagine · 4 years

Note

What if Jason had gone to Sanctuary and died with Roy... how would the batfam react?

I’m sorry if this is not exactly what you asked for (I added in a splash of Jayroy) but I hope you enjoy it!

The alarms had gone off and the Justice League snapped into action. Something had happened at Sanctuary, what they didn’t know yet. All of the cameras and ways to contact them had been shot in a power surge, so they were left with having to go to the center themselves.

When they got there, it was a bloody mess.

The bodies of patents were strewn across the center in shows of bloody death, and they couldn’t find a single one left alive. Many members of the League searched among the victims in panic and grief, finding friends and family alike dead. Booster Gold and Harley Quinn were discovered to be the only survivors, neither having seen what happened.

This place that had been created for others was filled with the bodies of those it was supposed to help. They had died while looking for help.

Green Arrow and Batman were searching among the bodies, praying to not find any of their loved ones there. Nightwing followed Batman right on his tail, calling all the hero numbers in his phone in hopes that they would pick up.

Superman and Wonder Woman tried to stop them from entering one of the rooms. At first they hadn’t understood why. This was just as much Batman’s work as it was Superman and Wonder Woman’s, they had created this place together. Then Nightwing had gotten to Arsenal’s contact, and he hadn’t picked up.

“Let me in,” Green Arrow shouted at the two members of the trinity stopping them. “Let me in! Let me see my son!”

“Oliver please,” Diana started.

“No! Let me see him!”

While Oliver’s shouting distracted them, Batman shoved past his two friends. They couldn't catch him before he took in the sight of the room, and Green Arrow was soon able to push past them as well with a crying Nightwing right behind him.

The room was covered in chaos, the metallic scent of blood tinging the air. Batman remembered when this room had been designed. It was meant to help people, just like the rest of Sanctuary. He had made this place to help people, and it had instead killed them. Like lambs to slaughter.

They found the Flash’s body first. Wally West was added to Batman’s mental list of people whose lost souls would weigh down on his conscience, because he had promised Wally that he could heal here.

The next two bodies they found sent Batman to his knees.

Arsenal laid on the ground, his head rested near Flash’s. The second body lay next to Arsenal, head and one hand pillowed on his chest. Arsenal’s hand was on his head, as if trying to comfort or protect. Both were bloody, both clearly long gone. And though the second body’s face was pressed to Arsenal’s chest, its attire was immediately recognizable.

Nightwing screamed but the sound didn’t register in his mind. Green Arrow was crying beside the two bodies, hands flitting in the air as they shook.

“Roy,” Green Arrow sobbed brokenly. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here. I should have protected you.”

“B,” Nightwing said, grabbing his arm like a vice. “B it’s-”

“I know,” Batman said. His voice was rough, ragged. He didn’t care to try and control it. To hide it. This hurt too much to bear alone.

Batman reached out with arms that shook just as badly as Green Arrow’s and gently pulled the body draped over Arsenal’s into his lap. The body rolled over with dead weight, head lolling back off of Batman’s lap.

Batman reached up and cupped the face, moving it so it would face him, and let out a cry that had been building in his chest.

“Arsenal and Red Hood came to sanctuary together,” Superman said as softly as he could, reporting the information he must have read from a chart. “Arsenal wanted to kick his addictions for good, start recovery from the death of his daughter, and learn to cope with the horrors he witnessed every day. Red Hood wished to finally permanently move on from his first death at the hands of the Joker, and to cope with the grief of being disowned from his family and kicked out of his city, as well as the disappearances of the other two members of the Outlaws.”

Batman pushed off his cowl and cradled his son’s broken body close, resting his head on top of his. He didn’t hide his tears. He didn’t have to. Everyone was broken today.

Oliver refused to let them take Jason’s body back to Gotham. He had said he didn’t trust the bats with his burial, as the last time they had buried him they had done so right next to the very woman who sold him out instead of his mother or the Waynes. Instead he insisted on Jason being buried in Star City with Roy, right next to the grave of Lian Harper.

It only took a day for all members of the Batfamily to fly over to Star City. They would be staying a week there, three days before the joint funeral and four days after. With the help of the other League members, both the Wayne and Queen families achieved privacy from the public eye for their grieving.

Dick was destroyed. His two best friends and his younger brother were found dead in the same room, so no one could blame him. For once the usual support of the family, of the entire super community really, was allowed to crumble and rely on the others to pick him back up.

Cass was impossibly quieter than usual, no words escaping her mouth, no sound in her movement. Her face was blank as she resigned herself to the grief and shut down.

Tim cried. The tears never seemed to stop, and even as he tried to refuse comfort, one of his friends was by his side at all times. He cried, and when on the second day he finally couldn’t cry anymore, his tears turned to anger directed towards his father. Tim had worked so hard to get Jason back in the family, and Bruce had thrown all his work away.

Duke tried to hide away. He locked himself in his hotel room, and stayed in the back of groups, and hid. When Tim’s tears had turned to anger, Duke’s silence had turned to tears. He talked to Jason just like he had talked to his parents when he lost them.

Damian was angry. He blamed anyone he possibly could, including himself. No one could go near him without suffering his harsh, searing words. Not even Talia was allowed near him without getting burned. When he wasn’t blaming others, he was curled up on his bed surrounded by his pets.

Steph, Harper and Cullen all tried to help the others, but it didn’t do them much good. They traded off on helping put Dick together again, trying to coax Cass out of her shell, comforting Tim and Duke, and pretending Damian’s words didn’t hurt. They busied themselves so that the reality that Jason was gone wouldn’t crash down on them yet.

Leslie refused to go to Star City until the day of the funeral.

Talia showed up, and swore to Bruce that she had no intention of putting Jason through the Lazarus Pit again. She couldn’t bear to bring that pain on him again. She busied herself with helping prepare the funeral.

Alfred went through intervals of crying silently into his hand and trying to help the others. His efforts were weak despite how hard he tried. He didn’t have it in him to be strong when everything was so wrong.

Bruce blamed himself. Jason had gone to Sanctuary party because of something he had done. Jason had died a second time seeking comfort for something Bruce had done. His son was dead again, and it was all his fault. And he wasn’t coming back this time.

When the day of the funeral came they all shut down. The bats were known for their emotional repression, and the arrows had never been much better, so they stood on that grassy hill silently after the ceremony and watched as the coffins, Jason’s first followed by Roy’s. They had been engaged, so it wasn’t hard to convince the service they were going through to bury them in the same grave as they would with a married couple.

Each member of the families placed their handfuls of dirt in the grave. They watched as the graves were covered in dirt, but didn’t move or speak.

Bruce stared at the grave of his son and the man he had planned to marry. He stared at the tiny grave beside them of Lian Harper. He stared at the faces of his family and friends. He stared, and he knew, nothing was going to be okay again. Not for a long time. It was something he had known the first time Jason died, though the knowledge had been filled with much more devastation that time. This time he was resigned to the knowledge because he knew from past experience, not even the world’s greatest detective could solve the mystery of how to make this okay.

#willow writes #willow writes prompts #jason todd #roy harper #batfam #arrow fam #heroes in crisis #jayroy #bruce wayne #oliver queen #dick grayson

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eleven-times-lively · 4 years

Text

Eternal Love - 1

Summary: Love by fate, connection at heart, soul despite sight. Cedric x blind!OC Word Count: 1879 Note: Omg it feels amazing to be writing again! This is a fantastic miniseries so buckle up and follow along! Also I’m not doing taglists anymore. 💕

Soft, gentle humming filled the otherwise gloomy air. “This way,” she whispered to the space around her, continuing onward. To anyone else the sight would have been a deterrent, but for her it was no issue.

The sky was black and thunder cracked just above the clouds. A storm was circling overhead, both of clouds and blood. She navigated the hills and crevices of the decrepit graveyard with ease, pushed by an invisible force

“Cedric, no!”

Her head whipped around trying to find the source of the noise.

The whisper in her ear told her to crouch down, stay hidden for now. She did exactly that, not quite knowing what she was hiding from or why. A flurry of commotion ensued. Spells were thrown about, blasts and powerful forces firing off from every direction. After a surprisingly short time, she felt compelled to stand again, thanking the spirits for making her hide in the first place.

She stepped around the grave behind which she had been hiding, and remained silent to examine the scene. She heard a light choking from somewhere nearby, almost as if drowned out by gasps for life. Her invisible guide brought her to the source, which was immediately silenced by her presence.

“Please,” the voice pleaded. She stepped back for a moment, not expecting the voice to sound so deep and rugged, yet… knowing.

“Is it safe?” She murmured, though more to herself than anything. She pondered before nodding, once again taking a step forward. “Do you need help?” Her melodic voice her on injured ears, dropping the jaw of the injured boy before her.

“Please,” he once again choked out. She reached out an arm, allowing him to grab on and help himself to his feet. “Please… I-”

“I know,” she interrupted, placing a gentle hand on his arm. She shut her eyes, muttering to herself before a globe of light encircled them, transporting them away from the desolate sight.

***

The warm cottage was a welcome change from the battlesight. With a flick of her wrist, a fire was lit and the hearth was aglow. She helped the boy over to her single chair in the corner, examining him with a cautious eye.

“You have seen much trouble,” she murmured. “Be still.” Before the boy had time to protest, small flecks of light infiltrated the space around him, shrouding him in brightness.

A small, shrill sound erupted from the boy's mouth before all went quiet. The light died down, and left was a boy no longer covered in blood, but in fear. “What are you?” He whispered, trying but ultimately unable to back away from the girl before him.

“Do not fear, friend. I am here to help.” She took his hand, an empty stare cast deep into his widened eyes. “What is your name?”

“Cedric.” The sound came out as barely more than a whisper.

“Cedric,” she repeated, feeling the words in her mouth. “I’m Li.”

“Who are you?” His pupils were still blown wide, knuckles turning white as he gripped onto the chair.

“A friend,” she told him again. She took a step forward, tripping over his outstretched leg. She would have caught herself, but not before Cedric’s large arms did it for her.

“Woah there,” he chuckled, studying her face. “Are you okay?”

“Heavens,” she muttered. “Thanks for that.” Speaking to an invisible force, she nodded curtly at Cedric and walked away.

Li returned with the tea, walking slowly as she was wary of any more stray limbs. “Oolong tea, it will calm you.”

“Thanks…” Cedric was hesitant to take the cup, but did nevertheless. “Now can you explain all of this?” He gestured around vaguely.

“Very well.” She sat in the chair opposite him. “My name is Li, and I am one with the spirits of the forest.” She stopped speaking, seemingly at the end of her rather short oration.

“That’s it?” He nearly chuckled. “You can’t be more than my age, why don’t I know you?”

“Hogwarts did not want my type of magic, and without parents I could not travel to another school. No one else was willing to help me.”

“Help you?”

“Well I am blind.”

Cedric said nothing, his mouth forming a small O. “And you keep talking to nothing?”

Her mouth upturned slightly. “Not nothing, the spirits. I can connect with the spirits held deep within the forest. They are my friends. My guides. That’s how I found you.”

His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Hogwarts didn’t want you? You don’t have parents?”

“I suppose I’m doing well for myself.” She smiled weakly, pausing for a moment. “When will you go back?”

“To Hogwarts?”

She nodded. “Well Harry thinks I’m dead doesn’t he?”

She nodded again.

“I think I need to heal first, after that I’m not sure. May I stay here?”

“Absolutely. Come, let me show you the spare room.”

***

Cedric rose the next morning to the smell of breakfast and fresh tea. He crept down the stairs, but was sure to make enough noise as to not startle Li.

“Hello, Cedric.”

It was, in fact, Cedric who was startled. “You knew I was down here.”

“Again, dear, the spirits tell me everything. That and you aren’t exactly light on your feet.” Cedric blushed a bit before ducking down by the kitchen table. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fantastic, actually,” he smirked a bit, “was something in the tea?”

“Just a bit of lavender and a healing blend. Nothing bad.” He nodded, impressed and amused. “Breakfast.” She set the plate down in front of him.

“Thank you so much.” He immediately began taking forkfuls of food. “Are you going to eat.”

“Cedric I rise with the sun. I ate breakfast hours ago.” She smiled softly, taking the remaining seat at the table.

“Oh.” He blushed once again. “So these spirits,” he began after a moment, “can you… see them.”

“Well,” she stifled a giggle, “not in the traditional sense, no. I can’t see them as one would expect, but I have sense of them. I have a much deeper connection that transcends sight or even communication. It is as if we are one.”

“Huh,” Cedric chewed as he tried to process. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he wasn’t yet convinced that this wasn’t some fever dream while he was in a coma at St. Mungos.

“How are you feeling today?” Li interrupted his thoughts.

“Fine I guess.” He pondered for a moment. “I mean, you did heal everything. I think I’m still having a bit of trouble processing what happened.”

“Me too,” she confessed. “I arrived at the end of the ordeal, and naturally I couldn’t see anything.

Cedric nodded, contemplating. “How much do you know about the wizarding world right now, Li?”

“More than you would think.”

“Then I have some things to share with you.”

“Very well,” she stood from the table. “Finish getting yourself ready. I will show you my forest.”

***

Cedric found Li outside in her front garden later that morning.

“There you are!” She exclaimed. It was the most emotion Cedric had heard from her. “Come on. I can’t wait to show you my home.”

They walked a while in silence, weaving through pathways and bushes. At one point, Li tripped over a root. Cedric happened to swoop an arm around her just in time.

“That, um, wasn’t there yesterday.”

“It’s alright,” Cedric chuckled, still holding on. He realized his error and quickly let go, stiffly clearing his throat.

Li froze for a moment, a soft blush spreading across her lightly freckled cheeks. She brushed her stray black hair out of her face and continued walking. “So what was it that you needed to tell me?” She broke the awkward silence and palpable tension.

“Right.” He stiffened, suddenly remembering he had a purpose. “What do you know of the dark lord.”

She froze immediately, sharply turning on his heel. “Say no more Cedric,” her voice rose slightly. “His presence shall not be invoked. I know enough and that is perfectly fine with me.”

He took a deep breath in, unsure of how to proceed. “He’s back.”

A single tear fell from Li’s eye as her face twisted into a sour grimace. “I knew this day would come,” she whispered.

“My apologies, but… what?”

“Back to the cottage,” she hastily looked around, “now.”

“Care to explain?” Cedric was bewildered as Li locked the door and forced him into a chair.

“Cedric, the dark lord is responsible for the death or my parents and sister.”

Cedric's eyes widened, mouth forming a small circle. “I’m so sorry, Li… I-”

“It’s fine, Save your apologies. That was nearly sixteen years ago. I know enough that I know that with the dark lord back we are all in danger.”

Cedric’s lips pressed into a thin line. He knew. “What do we do?”

“Hide.”

***

The pair hid for about three weeks. Seemingly waiting for the day when Voldemort himself would show up at the cottage door to kill them both. They grew closer in this time. Li began to trust the strange outside energy that came into his life, and Cedric finally felt true warmth from the spunk and prim girl that had saved his life. Deeper feelings lie within them both, and they were beginning to bloom.

They were seated closely on the couch one afternoon when Cedric decided to bring up the topic that neither of them had brought up in nearly ten days. “Have you heard anything?”

“No.” Li responded coldly, gaze still fixed on the wooden wall. “Well…”

Cedric stiffened. “Well what, Li?”

“He’s coming for Hogwarts.”

Cedric shot up. “And you didn’t think to tell me!? I need to go help!”

Li turned to face him, a tear falling from her eye. “I know,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, “but I didn’t want you to leave.”

His face immediately softened. “Li…” He struggled a moment with what to say. “You know I have to go.” He was in so much pain having to say it. He had never seen Li cry, and he hated every second of it. “It’s okay…” He got back onto the couch, holding her shaking body in his arms.

They stayed like that for a while, Li trying to choke back her tears and Cedric nearly crying along with her. Truth be told, Cedric didn’t want to leave either. “Come with me,” he whispered, partially hoping that maybe she wouldn’t hear him.

“What?” She choked out between sobs.

“Come with me. Back to Hogwarts.”

“Cedric you know I can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“I-” She hesitated.

“Exactly. You may not have traditional magic, but you’re so powerful. You could help so much… and I’d love to have you at my side.”

“I’m blind Cedric. How much of an asset could I really be?”

“A lot. Need I remind you of your spirits.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, knowing he was correct. “This is a massive risk.”

“I know. And I wouldn’t have even said it if I didn’t trust you with my entire heart. He placed a small kiss on her forehead. “Take some time. We can go in the morning if you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

***

Part 2

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory x oc #blind reader #cedric diggory x blind!reader #spiritual #eternal love

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

Impossible

This is my one shot for the One Quote, One Shot Book 2. I’m so glad that @notevenjokingfic and @balfeheughlywed continued this! Thanks, ladies!

My quote is: I bristled a bit at this. I had been feeling a trifle nervous myself over the general revealingness of the dress, the fashionable sketches the seamstress had shown me notwithstanding. But Jamie’s reaction was making me feel defensive and thus rebellious.

The promise I’d made to Frank was still fresh in my mind. My entire being rebelled against the idea of a life without Jamie, but here I was. He’d sent me back and I had to keep the promise I’d made to him as well. Our child needed a good life. I had to remind myself too many times that I was doing this for my child, for the last remaining piece I had of Jamie.

I walked to the window of my room and saw Frank burning my 18th century clothes. What I’d worn as Jamie held me for the last time ever. What had been my proof of where I’d been for years.

Frank glanced up at me, giving me a look that all but said “I’m doing this for you.” No matter how much he tried to tell me this was the right choice, I just wasn’t there yet. I didn’t know if I’d ever get to that point.

That night, I still slept in my own room. Frank was my husband here, but he was not my husband in my heart. As I laid there, willing sleep to find me, I silently wept. I yearned for Jamie, for the comfort of his arms around me. The comfort of feeling safe, no matter the conflicts around us. I missed my husband, but no one in this century could understand that. I was grieving with my entire being, but I wasn’t allowed to show it.

I knew I needed sleep. Getting rest was important for my unborn child. My mind flitted to my other child. Faith. Perhaps she had finally met her father. He promised me that he would find me in the next life. I had no doubt that he would find our child as well. I almost felt comfort knowing that they were together. He had Faith, I had our second child.

The world was just too unfair to have let all four of us be together.

In sleep that night, they came to me.

I walked down a hazy corridor. It looked like a hospital. The same hospital I’d been in a week ago. I wandered down the hall, looking in empty room after empty room. I wondered why I was there. What was the significance of this hallway? As I got close to the last of the doors, a small red-headed child peeked out of the door.

I froze as I stared at her. Red curls covered her head. She wore an odd frock for a baby of nearly two years. A large smile crossed her sweet face as she looked up at me.

“Mama!”

I gasped as she looked at me with such intensity. She knew for certain that I was her mother. My mind jumped to the memory of the baby I’d held with red hair dusting her head. The baby I’d held who’d already passed on before she’d even been born. Her eyes held mine as she stood firm in the doorway.

“Mama,” she said again, seemingly trying to tell me more this time.

I knelt down in front of her, reaching my hands out to grasp her arms. “Yes?” I asked.

“Da here.”

“What?” I tried to understand her meaning. “What do you mean, Darling?”

Her head inclined toward the room behind her. “Da! Da here!”

I glanced over at the bed. The curtain was pulled to provide a modicum of privacy. All I could see was the patient’s feet. Looking back at the child in front of me, she nodded at me.

“Da!” she said again.

A knot of anticipation formed in my stomach. I stood up and walked slowly further into the room. My steps were slow, moving me at a glacial pace. I thought I knew what I’d find, but I didn’t want to be wrong.

I gently pulled back the curtain. A familiar mop of red hair shone against the stark white pillowcase. I gasped so loudly that I woke.

I sat up, shaking my head, clutching my chest. It had felt so real. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes. I tucked my legs up, curling around them. My head rested on my knees as I sobbed. More than ever before, I wanted Jamie’s arms to come around me and tell me that this was the dream. He was here and I was alright.

But he wasn’t here. I was alone.

Well, not completely alone.

“I promise, whatever happens you’ll never be alone again,” he’d promised me. In a way, he’d been right. It just wasn’t the way I'd imagined. The way I yearned for at the moment.

My hand laid against my stomach. It was still flat. Aside from the knowledge that our child was there, you’d never know. I racked my brain for prayers Jamie used to say. I needed this child to survive. We both did. I needed this child.

When I woke up the next morning, I realized I’d cried myself to sleep. Slowly, reluctantly, I rose from my bed and dressed. It was such a fast process again. And yet, I missed the layers. I never thought I’d miss the corsets, the shifts, multiple layers that sometimes restricted movements. Right now, I’d give anything to have them back. It would mean I still had Jamie.

Brushing a hand down my front, I took a deep breath and left my room. I descended the stairs slowly, not entirely wishing to start my day. But I knew that if I didn’t come out of my room, Frank would likely come find me.

As I walked past the Reverend’s office, I heard Frank’s voice. I glanced in to see Frank on the phone. He was making travel plans. My stomach turned. I wasn’t ready to leave Scotland.

Closing my eyes, I moved away from the doorway to the office. An inviting smell lured me toward the kitchen. As I got closer to the room, I could hear Mrs. Graham talking to the Reverend.

“I think we should show it to her,” she said. I froze, knowing almost for certain her referred to me.

“There’s no reason to assume that she knows anything about this,” Wakefield replied.

“But what if she does? They canna say who this person is. What if she knows him?”

“What if she doesn’t and ye just stir up painful memories for her?”

Mrs. Graham huffed. The sound of dishes clanking together echoed from the kitchen.

When Reverend Wakefield spoke again, his voice was softer this time. “She just gave up on her delusion. She just agreed to resume her life with her husband. He’s making plans for their new life as we speak. There’s no reason ye need to bring it up.”

Mrs. Graham sighed. “Alright. I’ll no’ say anything to her.”

“Thank ye.”

Deciding that I’d eavesdropped enough, I walked into the kitchen. They both looked up at me. Mrs. Graham flashed me a kind smile. Reverend Wakefield looked uneasy as he shuffled around papers on the table. He shoved the newspaper under his plate. I wondered if whatever they were hiding from me was in today’s paper. I’d almost forgotten how quickly news travelled in these days.

Mrs. Graham set a plate of food in front of me at the table. “Do you know who Frank is on the phone with?” I asked.

“I believe he was trying to secure some plane tickets to Boston,” Wakefield informed me.

I nodded, silently acknowledging.

“Did ye sleep well?” Mrs. Graham asked.

For the first time this morning, I reflected on the dream from the night before. Not feeling like I could expand upon that, I lied. “Of course!”

She smiled back at me. “Good.”

My mind lingered on those images though. The small child in the doorway of a hospital room. Faith, no doubt. And Jamie, unconscious in a modern hospital bed. It was a painful image. Tormenting. My hands started to shake as I replayed it all.

I reached out for the juice in front of me, but my shaking hands knocked it over. The beverage quickly ran, spreading across the table. I jumped up, as did Reggie, both of us scurrying to sop up the juice. Moving his plate out of the way, the newspaper fell to the floor beside him. Mrs. Graham rushed over with a towel, effectively cleaning up the mess.

I bent down to pick up the papers that had fallen to the ground. My knees gave out and I collapsed on the floor as a familiar set of eyes stared up at me from the paper. I moved everything out of the way, wanting to get a better look. The picture looked just like the one they’d taken of me. Fear, confusion, and a pervasive feeling of sadness were clear, even in a grainy black and white picture in the paper.

I gasped loudly, clutching the paper tighter. Mrs. Graham looked over at me. “Claire, are ye alright?”

I ignored her questions. My mind was reeling too fast to make any sort of explanation. It wasn’t possible. He was 200 years in the past. No doubt, laying dead on a battlefield. How was his likeness captured and printed in a modern Inverness newspaper? There was just no way.

My eyes finally tore from the paper to look up at the other two. They both had questioning looks on their faces. Mrs. Graham looked a bit righteous while Reggie almost looked afraid. “What is this?” I asked. My mind wasn’t ready to read the article that might just tell me.

Mrs. Graham bent down until she was at my level. “Do ye know this man?”

“What is happening?” I pressed. I couldn’t tell her who I thought he was until I knew for sure.

Wakefield sighed, his hand covering his face. Mrs. Graham looked more sympathetic. “After ye came back, Claire, people started to wonder where ye’d been, ye see?” I nodded. I hadn’t told my story to anyone but Mrs. Graham and Frank. Though Frank had surely told Reggie. “With yer disappearance at the stones, and then turning back up on a road coming from there, well, people were curious.” She took a deep breath before she continued. “Well, someone went back to Craigh na Dun, wondering if something had really happened there. As they got to the top of the hill, they found this man laying in the center of the circle.”

My eyebrows shot to my hairline. I stared back down at the picture, noting the fear again. It was him. But how?

Mrs. Graham continued. “According to the article, he was very gravely injured and they took him to the hospital.”

“He was injured?” I cried.

She nodded, an unsure look crossing her face as she took in my expression.

I jumped up, feeling true motivation for the first time since I’d come through the stones again. “I have to go.” I clutched the paper in my hand, stomping toward the front door.

“What? You can’t go!” Reggie called.

“I have to.”

“Why?”

I turned around and held out the picture for them. “Because this man is my husband.” Reggie went a bit white, glancing back toward his office where Frank was. On the other hand, Mrs. Graham smiled, almost triumphantly.

“I’ll take ye,” she offered.

Reggie protested more as the two of us ran from the house. We were in her car as he still called to us. I couldn’t be stopped. If it was possible that Jamie was here, I was getting to him, no matter the cost.

She drove slower than I would have. Perhaps that was safer. I felt desperate, wishing all other cars were off the road. Could it really be possible? Could he really be here? But how?

I remembered begging him to come with me. He’d told me his destiny was on Culloden Moor. But how was he in the newspaper in 1948? I wanted answers. And more than anything else, I wanted this all to be real.

When we got to the hospital, I ran from the car. My shoes were still a bit unfamiliar to me. I tripped slightly, catching myself on another car.

“Ye might want to slow down,” Mrs. Graham advised from behind me. I waved my acknowledgment, slowing down only slightly.

We raced to the front desk. I slammed my hands down on the desk, stopping myself. “Where is he?” I don’t know why I thought that was enough. The nurse looked at me in utter confusion. “The man they found at the stones. The unnamed man. Where is he?”

A doctor standing behind her turned his head at my outburst. “Ma’am, I’m afraid that’s no’ information we can be sharing.”

I flattened the paper on the desk, showing it to them. “He’s my husband! This man from the paper, he’s my husband. I need to see him!”

“Yer...husband?” The doctor asked. I nodded insistently. His eyes narrowed at me. It was clear the moment he recognized me. “Ma’am, I’m afraid we canna let ye go see him.”

I groaned loudly. “Look, I know quite well you think I’m crazy, but I’m not. That man is my husband and I need to see him. I know you recognize me. I was the woman that was here just last week after being found out there too. Which means that I know what I’m fucking talking about. That man is my husband and I demand that you tell me where he is.”

The doctor looked at me, scrutinizing me. He shook his head to himself. “I’m sorry. I know that you believe this to be true, but I’m afraid I can’t let you see him.” He walked away, still shaking his head.

Tears were swimming in my eyes. I wondered if anyone would stop me if I simply started going room to room, looking for him. My cheeks were growing wet as Mrs. Graham’s hand patted my shoulder. I shook my head, trying to decide what to do next.

“Room 233.”

My head whipped over to the nurse behind the desk. “I’m sorry?”

She looked both ways before looking at me again. “The man in the paper, the one you’re looking for. He’s in Room 233.”

My tears flowed faster as I reached across the desk and grabbed her hands. “Thank you! Oh my goodness, thank you so much.”

She nodded kindly, squeezing my hand. Her head tilted toward the right, telling me which way to go. I was off before she could tell me again, Mrs. Graham following in my steps. I found the right room quickly — even if it felt like a hundred years. Pausing, my hand hovered over the knob.

“Go on,” Mrs. Graham encouraged. I looked over at her and she shot me a bright smile, nodding for me to go in.

“What if it’s not him?” I whispered. My stomach tightened, my heart racing. “It’s impossible for him to be here.”

She grabbed my hand, gently taking the paper from me. Holding it up to me, she showed me the picture. “Is this him?” I stared at the face looking out at me. I knew those eyes, that hair, that face.

“Yes.”

“Then go on.”

I took a deep breath, nodding, somewhat to myself. My hand turned on the knob and the door was opening, even if my mind seemed a step or two behind. The scene when I entered was just like my dream. A pulled curtain. Only feet visible. I prayed the rest of the dream followed — that I’d pull back the curtain and it would really be him.

I crept closer, a strong wave of anxiety taking over me. I wanted to turn back. I couldn’t be disappointed if I never looked. Turning back, I looked to Mrs. Graham for help. She stood out of the room, just past the doorway. I knew what she was doing. She was giving me space.

“Can you look?” I whispered.

“But I don’t know what yer man looks like.”

“Just look and see if he looks like the man in the picture.”

She shot me a look, but agreed nonetheless. Walking forward, she went past me and moved around the curtain. I held my breath. She came back around and nodded to me. “It’s the man from the paper. He’s asleep, but it’s him. I’m sure of it.”

I breathed out a sigh, though I didn’t know if it was anxiety or relief. Mrs. Graham left me alone again. Laying a hand on my stomach, I reminded myself — not all alone. My hand shook as I reached for the curtain. Gently, holding my breath, I pulled it back. I vaguely heard the scratching sound of the rings against the bar. But my eyes had locked on the man in the bed and nothing else mattered. I stumbled forward, crying out loudly. My hand clapped over my mouth as I stared down at him.

“How are you here?” I asked his unconscious form. I bent down, grabbing his hand. Furrowing my brows, I decided I wanted proof that it was him. Looking over my shoulder, I checked that the coast was clear before pulling down the neck of his hospital gown. A soft gasp echoed from me as I spotted the scar from the gunshot wound I’d patched up the day I met him. I looked next at his hand — the one I’d mended after Wentworth.

Tears were fully flowing from my eyes as the impossible laid in front of me. I sat on the edge of his bed, clinging to him, fully afraid that he’d disappear. Or worse, that I’d wake up.

I sat there for a long time, simply staring at him. My hand drifted up, grazing his cheek.

Slowly, his eyes started to flutter open. Deep blue eyes stared up at me. He wasn’t focused yet. I wondered how long he’d been here, how conscious he’d been. Now, I wished a doctor could tell me the extent of his injuries. Sooner than I expected, his eyes started to focus on me.

“Claire?”

I smiled widely, tears leaking from my eyes again. “It’s me.”

His face contorted, closing his eyes. Hands came up and covered his face.

“Jamie,” I tried. His hands came down and he looked at me. “I promise you I’m here.” I squeezed his hand and he jumped a little. His eyes locked on my hand over his.

“Sassenach?” Disbelief was clear on his face.

I reached my hand out to brush the hair from his face. “Jamie, I’m here. I’m real.” I choked out a watery laugh. “Though I don’t know how you are.”

“Ye’re real?” he asked, shock in his voice.

“I’m real.”

His hand I was holding turned and clenched mine tightly in his. The other hand lifted weakly off the bed, trying to touch my face. I could tell he had very little strength as it fell back to the bed. Grabbing his other hand, I lifted it for him, cupping it to my face. He gazed at me in wonder, his thumb stroking my cheek.

“Mo nighean donn.” He sobbed slightly, tears streaming down his face. “But ye went back.”

I nodded, closing my eyes and forcing more tears out. “I did. But, Jamie, look around. You’re in the 20th century.”

His eyes moved around the room, suddenly remembering where he was. “Aye. So that’s where I am, then?”

“How long have you been here?”

Jamie shook his head. “I dinna ken exactly.” His eyes drifted closed as a pained look covered his face. “Someone found me and started yelling. I was verra confused as to what was happening. They moved me from the hill into some carriage or such.”

“A car?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Well, I dinna ken. I was in and out of it a lot.” A dark look crossed his face. “Rather like my transfer to the abbey.” I nodded, not needing to acknowledge any more of that time in our past. “Then I was here, though I didna ken where here was, exactly. Even barely conscious, they asked me all sorts of questions I couldna answer.” He chuckled to himself. I almost swooned at the sound. “I kept wishing ye were here to answer them.”

I squeezed his hand. “I’m here now, my love.”

He shook his head in awe as he stared at me. “I thought I’d ne’er see ye again, Sassenach.”

I swallowed harshly. “I know.” My hand cupped his face.

Jamie took a deep breath. “Next time I came to, I was here, in this bed. I’m still no’ so sure where I am.” He smiled broadly at me. “Though I dinna care, so long as ye’re here.”

“Well, I can tell you where you are. You’re in a hospital in Inverness.” I looked behind me before continuing. “In the year 1948.”

His eyes went wide. “They worked,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?”

He paused, breathing in and out deeply. “I was spared,” he told me in a small voice. My eyes widened. “I went back to fight, as I said I would.” I felt my face fall. His hand held mine tighter. “It was as ye always said it would be.” I looked down, unable to hold his gaze. He swallowed before continuing with his story. “I was on the battlefield and...well, I was hurt.”

My head flew back up. “Where?” Hands moved across his body, trying to find his injury.

His hands stopped mine. He brought them up to his lips, kissing the backs of my hands. “I think I’m alright. Either that, or I died and this is heaven.”

“Jamie.”

He pulled the blanket back and his gown up, revealing the massive cut across his thigh. I let out a small cry, my fingers hovering above the mark.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.”

I could see where the modern surgeons had no doubt tried to fix his leg. Suddenly, I turned to the end of his bed, reaching for his file. I scanned it all, reading all they’d done to save him.

“What is that?” he asked.

“It tells me all they’ve done to treat you.” I was looking specifically for something to treat an infection. I released a small “aha” when I finally found it. Penicillin. Last doctor’s report had shown healing. My heart soared. I put the file back where I found it and turned back to him. “What happened next?”

He reached for me. I scooted closer, putting both my hands in his. “Rupert found me,” he continued.

“He wasn’t mad?” I recalled his face as he’d seen us standing over Dougal’s body. My head shook at the memory.

“He told me he wouldna leave me there. So he took me and there were many of us gathered in a small barn. But eventually the British found us.”

My breath caught as he said it. I knew he was alive and in front of me (unless it was just a dream) but I was somehow still scared for him. He told me the rest of the story of how he was spared due to the debt owed by the boy he’d let go near Carryarick. The cart they’d started to send him back to Lallybroch on had taken off, but quickly, the driver had stopped to relieve himself. Taking advantage of not being terribly far from the moor and not being truly on their way, Jamie convinced the driver to take him to the stones instead.

“He was verra confused, but it was closer than Lallybroch and I dinna think he wanted to be caught wi’ me,” Jamie explained. “He all but carried me up to the stone circle and left me there.”

“Why?”

He stared at me for a moment. “I kent I wasna going to live. And I didna want to die in the back of a cart, being hauled off like swine. I wanted to go peacefully where I could feel close to ye.”

I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes again. “Jamie.”

“I was right by the middle stone. I was weak, so weak, but I reached my hand out and I touched it, just thinking of ye. I didna think it would work. That wasna why I did it, really. I just...I wanted to feel like I was wi’ ye.” He was getting choked up. “I felt like I was proper dyin’, even worse than my leg was doing. But then when I looked up, I was in the same place. Until the strangely dressed men found me, I had no inclination that anything had happened,” Jamie explained. I leaned forward, cupping his face in my hands and pressing my forehead to his. “I just wanted to see ye again,” he whispered.

“I know what you mean. It’s taken every ounce of strength I’ve had to not run right back to find you,” I informed him.

“Ye were right to stay here,” he replied. “Tis what’s best for ye.” A few emotions crossed his face in rapid succession. Joy. Disbelief. Worry. I knew what was on his mind before his hand moved to my stomach. “Tis best for the bairn.”

I laid my hand over his, pressing it further against me. “But you’re here now.” He glanced up at me. “So now, I can accept that.” I smiled at him. For the first time it occurred to me what his presence here could really mean. We could be a family. Just like we’d always wanted.

My emotions were building within me. Tears had varied between a steady flow and a slow trickle, but they’d always been leaking from my eyes. Suddenly, unable to hold back anymore, I leaned forward and hugged him to me. My arms wrapped around him tightly, like I was afraid he’d disappear. Truthfully, I was a bit afraid.

He was weak, but his arms came around me and held me back. I could feel his soft sobs as we held each other, as we held a recaptured future.

Slowly, I pulled back. “I’ve spent a bit over a week back here and I’ve been trying to imagine a life without you.” A sob cut me off.

“Sassenach,” he whispered, running his thumb along my cheek.

“I couldn’t do it, Jamie. I love you too much. I didn’t want to imagine it. People kept pushing me back toward my old life, but it wasn’t what I wanted. Or worse, what I needed. I need you. You and me. And our child. That’s all I need,” I promised him.

“That sounds like a dream,” he agreed.

“But it doesn’t have to be a dream anymore,” I reminded him. “You’re here. We’re in the same time. And we can be a family. We can have all we ever wanted, Jamie.”

His inner conflict was clear on his face. “This isna my time.”

“You helped me when I was out of my depth in the 18th century. Do you not think I’d do the same for you?”

He didn’t answer, but he looked a bit thoughtful.

I grabbed his hands again, squeezing tightly. “Jamie, if you go back, you’d be a wanted man. A traitor to the crown. If they find you, they’ll kill you.” His brow furrowed. “But if you stay here, we could be together. We could be safe. Our child could be raised by both of us. We could be a family. We...” I cut myself off, taking a deep breath. “We could be happy.”

Jamie opened his mouth to reply but I talked over him.

“Please, just think about it. You still have to heal, so you have time before a decision has to be made.”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes. I started to question it all — our marriage, the depths of his love for me, the supposedly unbreakable bond between us. What if I had it all wrong?

“Claire,” he rasped. “Ye ken I want all that. I want nothing more than that.” He looked up at me, a vulnerable expression on his face. “But I dinna ken how to be in this time. I dinna want to make yer life harder or our bairn’s life harder.”

I shook my head. “You must know that I would take a hard life with you over an easy life with anyone else.” I let out a breath. “But, I promise you, it won’t make it harder. Living without you — that’s what would make my life hard. Growing up without a father — that’s what would make our child’s life hard.”

Jamie’s face hardened a bit. “But ye have a life here — one I dinna fit into. What about…” he sighed, “What about Frank?”

“I chose you over him once before,” I reminded him. “What makes you think I wouldn’t do so again? Jamie, I’m carrying your child. If you’re here, why would I raise them with anyone else? You are my life, Jamie. You’re my home. And maybe this home isn’t lost anymore.”

Tears glistened in his eyes again. “Ye’d really want me here?”

I didn’t know if words would be enough to reassure him. Instead, I pressed my lips to his desperately, trying to show him what I meant. A similar desperation radiated from him as he held me closely, returning the kiss.

I broke away, resting my forehead against his. “It’s you and me, you hear?”

“You and me,” he repeated. “And our family.”

I let out a soft sob. “Exactly.”

And in that moment, it all clicked together. The future we thought we’d given up was back in our reach. It would take some figuring out, but I knew we could do it. The misery I’d felt in the last week was nothing compared to the elation flowing through me as I laid my head against Jamie’s shoulder while he held me. Neither of us could let the other go.

The first time I willingly released him was when the doctor came in to check on him. I thoroughly interrogated the man to get a good indication of Jamie’s health. He informed me that they’d cleaned and stitched his wound, giving him regular doses of penicillin to prevent infection. He was starved (which I already knew he would be) and they were trying to slowly build back up his nutrients and rehydrate him. The doctor seemed optimistic, even if he thought Jamie’s leg would take a long time to heal. I didn’t care so much — neither did Jamie — so long as it would, in fact, heal. I could see the thought of an amputation like Ian’s floating in Jamie’s eyes.

I hated that Jamie wasn’t my patient. That he was under someone else’s care. But this doctor seemed to know what he was talking about, as well as care about Jamie’s outcome. I didn’t care for the doctors who’d treated me upon my return. But this one, I liked. As long as he told me I wasn’t going to lose Jamie again, I was good with him.

Jamie was exhausted and I could tell. I encouraged him to sleep and promised I wouldn’t leave. Once he was fully out, I finally remembered Mrs. Graham. She was sitting in a chair just outside the room.

“I’m so sorry!” I cried, walking halfway to her. She jumped up and met me in the middle. “I forgot.”

She smiled at me kindly. “Ye have nothing to be sorry for, my dear. So it was indeed him?”

I returned her smile, nodding. “It is. It still feels impossible, but it’s him.” We walked back into the room together when I felt an almost magnetic force pulling me back to him. I took the chair next to his bed and held his hand as he slept. I started to weep when I saw the corner of his mouth pull up into a smile in his sleep. “I’m still half convinced this is a dream.”

Mrs. Graham shot me a sympathetic look. “I’m awake, and I can promise ye it’s no’.”

I looked from Jamie and back to her. Finally putting it all together, I told her about my dream from the night before. I shook my head as I got to the end. “It was almost prophetic.”

“Ye were close to leaving Scotland, were ye no’?” I nodded. “He’s been here for days, Claire. Perhaps yer child was really reaching out to ye. Making sure ye found each other again.”

I gaped at her. “You really believe that?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I think there is something that brought ye to him before. And I’d be willing to bet that same something brought him to ye this time. Fate. Destiny. The universe. Who knows? But something wanted ye to find each other. That’s what I know.”

“Thank you,” I choked out.

She squeezed my shoulder. “Ye’ve been given a gift, Claire. I ken just by looking at ye that ye’re no’ about to squander it.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m certainly not.”

She took a seat in the other chair in the room. We sat there quietly for a while, absorbing the peace in the room. Jamie slept soundly, no doubt feeling more at ease than he had in a very long time. I almost felt like I could sleep myself.

A loud set of footsteps sounded through the hall. It grabbed both of our attention. We glanced at each other before looking toward the door.

“Claire!”

My eyes went wide. Frank. In my haste to see Jamie, I’d forgotten all about him.

“Claire! Where are you?”

I was jumping out of my chair to run out to the hall when he stormed past the room. He caught sight of me and froze. I moved to my right, trying to block Jamie from view as much as I could. His eyes landed on him anyway.

I walked forward, sliding the curtain behind me. “Frank, I think we need to talk.”

“Who the hell is that?” he demanded, pointing to the curtain.

I took a deep breath. As I prepared to tell him the full truth, Mrs. Graham rounded the curtain. “I think this is a conversation for another place.”

“I agree,” I replied.

“Claire, you need to tell me what the hell is going on. And right now. I think I’ve been very understanding lately, but enough is enough.”

I was frozen. I didn’t know how to explain it well enough to Frank. It was quite clear he didn’t believe where I actually was when I’d disappeared. With Jamie here, my explanation was even flimsier.

“Claire?” A different voice called my name. My heart clenched. It was a situation I desperately wanted to avoid.

I saw the anger in Frank’s eyes a second too late. He stormed over and threw back the curtain. It wasn’t Frank I was looking at, though. It was Jamie.

His face contorted, fear taking over quickly. I ran to his side, stepping between him and Frank. “It’s not him,” I promised. “He was dead, remember?” Jamie’s eyes didn’t leave Frank. “Look at me.” He didn’t. “Jamie, look at me!” Reluctantly, he moved his gaze to me. “That’s not Black Jack. That’s Frank.”

“Black Jack?” Frank asked.

I looked briefly over my shoulder. “I told you about my encounters with that horrendous man.”

“Claire, what the hell is going on here?” Frank demanded again. I saw Jamie stiffen at Frank’s tone. His good hand clenched into a fist. I laid my hand on it, trying to ease his mind. I left my hand over his, turning to look at Frank.

“Frank, I’m afraid I won’t be able to go to Boston.”

“Excuse me?” He nearly laughed as he said it. “You promised me.”

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to do that anymore.” I knew he needed an explanation, but I wasn’t sure how to do so.

“Because of him? This is him, huh?”

“It is.”

Frank glared at me. “You said you were in the 18th century.”

“I was.”

“You said he was dead in the Rising.”

“I thought he was.”

“Then what the fuck is he doing here?”

“I saw it in the paper today. They found him at the stones. Just like me,” I told him.

“So what about your whole story of sending you back for a better life?” Frank questioned.

“Aye, I did that.” I turned to look at Jamie. He was glaring at Frank. “I ne’er thought the stones would work. But they did and I’m here.”

Frank let out a disbelieving laugh. “You promised me, Claire. You came back to me. You promised me we’d raise the child together. As ours.” I felt Jamie’s hand tighten against mine.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I have to break that promise.” He shook his head at me. “I can’t leave him.”

“You can. I was your husband first. Send him back to his own time and keep your damn promise.”

“Let me rephrase that, then. I won’t leave him. I’ve made this choice once before, Frank. You or him. And it was him. Making that choice again, it’ll be the same result. I choose him. I’m having his child. I wouldn’t have even come back, Frank. I’m sorry, but this is my choice.” I felt bad being so blunt, but nothing and no one was going to separate us again.

“Were you lying then? I knew the time travel was a lie,” Frank accused.

“It wasn’t a lie!”

“Look at this!” Mrs. Graham cried, drawing all of our attentions. “Look at what they found him with.” She presented the room with Jamie’s personal effects. His bloodied kilt. His ruined shirt. His sporran, full of 18th century tokens. “Goes rather well wi’ what they found Claire wearing, does it no’?”

Jamie and I both stared Frank down, daring him to contradict us.

He shook his head. “Claire, you’re my wife.”

“That’s the problem, Frank, because I’m his wife too.” I held out my hands, both rings showing. I swallowed thickly, touching the gold ring. Two fingers closed around it, carefully pulling it from its place. I walked closer to Frank. Holding it out for him, I waited for him to hold out his hand. “Frank, take it.”

“No. I’m not giving in that easily.”

“Frank, you’re fighting for something you already lost. I’m sorry, but I can’t go back to the life we had. I think you know I only agreed to go back because I felt I had to. That I felt I had no choice. We made sense to me at some point, but that point is over. We’ve spent years without each other. Do you really want me to be married to you because you forced me to be?”

He stared down at the ring in my outstretched hand. I could see how angry he was as his head shook. Finally, his hand grabbed the ring almost violently. He shot a look past me to Jamie. “You goddamned bloody bastard,” he spat. With one final look at the room, he stomped away. Mrs. Graham walked out after him. I suspected she was making sure he was really leaving. I closed my eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief.

I turned back to Jamie, reaching a hand to his cheek. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, seemingly stunned. “All that time,” he breathed. I leaned closer to him. “Every time we encountered him. He looked...he looked…”

“Yes, he looked like Frank,” I finished for him.

“How did ye…”

“That wasn’t necessarily a good indicator, but they were different,” I promised Jamie. “Very different.”

“Are ye sure, though? About yer choice.”

I sat down on his bed again, taking his face in my hands. “When you left me at the stones the first time, I felt perhaps a bit conflicted. I wanted to be able to tell Frank what happened to me. But not enough that I wanted to go back to tell him. I wanted to be with you more than anything in the world.”

“More than hot baths,” he reminded me with a grin.

“Exactly,” I agreed, remembering the perks of the 20th century that I’d shared with him as we rode to Lallybroch that first time. I leaned in to kiss him quickly. “But this time, this time is different. He knows what happened. He knows the choice I’m making. And more than ever, I’m sure of my choice. You are the man I love, James Fraser.” I took his arm, laying our wrists together. “Blood of my blood.”

He smiled, leaning his forehead to mine. “And bone of my bone.”

* * *

I didn’t want to leave for the night. My arms were resting on the side of the bed, my head leaning against Jamie’s side. His hand stroked my hair, lulling me into the sweetest stupor. We were sitting in a comfortable silence. It was comforting enough just to be together. In the short time we’d been apart, too many painful memories had formed. Neither of us felt quite strong enough to spend all our time discussing them. I wasn’t sure Jamie would ever feel comfortable discussing them, except abstractly.

“Ye should go home,” Jamie whispered as my eyes started to flutter closed.

“I don’t have a home here.”

“Well ye must have been staying somewhere,” he reasoned. “Ye look exhausted, Sassenach. Go back and sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Jamie sighed. “Why?”

“Well, for one, I was staying with Frank’s friend, so I don’t really think I’ll be very welcome there,” I informed him. I took a deep breath as I thought of my other reasons. “But also, if I go somewhere else, I’m not sure I’ll believe that this wasn’t a dream. I’m scared if I wake up without you…”

Jamie nodded, his hand smoothing back my curls. “I understand. Truly.” His eyes met mine and I could see the sincerity there. “I just want ye to get some sleep. Ye need to sleep somewhere nicer than this.”

“Up until the past week or so, I was sleeping in a rebel army camp,” I reminded him. “This feels like a five star hotel.”

His brow furrowed at my comparison, but he pushed on. “Exactly. Ye were in terrible conditions. Ye need to be in a bed or such. Somewhere comfortable. What about the bairn?”

I rolled my eyes. “Jamie, I’m not going.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Well come over to my right side.” He started scooching in his bed, closer to the left side. I watched him, unsure of what he really meant. Once he was in place, he patted the space next to him. I smiled, walking around the bed and laying down in the spot he created. His arm came around me, holding me close. “Go to sleep, a nighean. I’ll be here.”

“What if a doctor comes in and wants to send me home?”

“I’ll start pitching a fit and they willna ken what to make of it,” Jamie teased.

I picked my head up to look at him. “That sounds like a good plan.” He chuckled, his eyes regaining a bit of the sparkle they once had. His head came down, meeting me for a short kiss. I snuggled in closer to him, knowing almost for certain, I was going to get the best sleep I’d had in awhile.

* * *

Miraculously, no one tried to kick me out. When I woke, Jamie was asleep next to me, his arm still around me. I had been right. I wasn’t sure I’d gotten a night of sleep that good since we’d left Lallybroch to meet the army.

I stayed where I was in Jamie’s hospital bed, far too comfortable in his arms to move. My mind was moving quickly though, jumping from thought to thought like a frantic trapeze artist. It was going to be up to me to make sure we had a future in this time. I felt confident that the two of us were strong enough to handle most things. We’d already proven that many times over. But Jamie was out of his depth here. I made a silent list in my head of all the things I needed to figure out. Money. A place to live. Jobs. Clothes.

The first thing to do was make sure Frank hadn’t cleared out my account with my inheritance from Uncle Lamb. From the stories Mrs. Graham had told me, it seemed Frank held out hope that I’d return. One call could answer that question.

The next thing to do was find clothes. I didn’t have very much and I didn’t particularly want to return to the Reverend’s manse. Jamie would need modern clothes most desperately.

Finding a place to live was going to be difficult, but imperative. Maybe Mrs. Graham could help me come up with some options. I got the feeling that she had the lay of the land in Inverness.

I felt confident that I could likely get a job as a nurse again. I still had the skills — had perhaps even advanced them in my time away. I had been acting as a full surgeon in my years in the past. That was at least one part of my life I’d kept up with. Hopefully some doctor or hospital would need a nurse.

I was going to do all I could to make sure that Jamie didn’t regret staying in this time. We only had so many months to get our lives together before we were bringing another one into it. By my estimation, it would be around November. It was still April, so we had plenty of time. Theoretically. A lot was up in the air. I hoped our “we’re strong enough” attitude stuck around in the 20th century.

I felt Jamie start to rouse next to me. Looking over, I relished the familiar sight of him waking next to me. His eyes opened and he smiled at the sight of me. “Good morning,” I greeted.

“Aye, a good one indeed.”

I laughed. “How are you feeling?”

He leaned over and placed a kiss against my shoulder. “The best I’ve felt in a long time.” I glared at him, wanting an honest report. “I’m alright. Haven’t ye spouted the magic of modern medicine to me before? I’m fine.”

“You better be,” I replied, raising one eyebrow at him. He grinned, bringing me in for a kiss.

Now that he was awake, I felt the need to start my errands. I needed to get as much done as I could before he got released from the hospital. I wasn’t sure how long they’d keep him. Perhaps talking to the doctor was another thing to add to my list. I pulled myself from the bed, giving Jamie the whole space back.

“Okay,” I said, turning back to him. “I have some rather important things I need to do today. So, I am going to go do that, but I’ll come back, okay?”

Jamie nodded. “Alright. What are ye doing?”

“Well whenever you get out, you’re going to need clothes. Clothes that aren’t disgusting and torn.” He seemed unsure. “Look, it’s going to be a lot of change, but I promise, I’m going to help you through it. And I know —”

“Ye did it for me,” he replied. “I can do it too.”

My head tilted to the side as I looked at him, a smile spreading on my face. “Yeah, I did. At least you won’t have to wear a bloody corset.”

Jamie laughed, his head falling back against his pillow. “Thank goodness for small mercies.”

I walked closer to his bed again, running my hand through his hair. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Jamie nodded to me. “Alright. Be careful.”

I kissed him softly. “I will. You too.”

* * *

I stood in the middle of several racks of clothes, feeling utterly lost. I thought of Mrs. Fitz, who’d fashioned me in 18th century garb when I was new to Leoch. She’d made damn sure I was dressed sensibly for the Gathering. I thought of Jenny, too. She’d provided me with extra pieces when needed. A spare shift, an extra corset. It was what I had always imagined having a sister was like. But as I stood in front of 20th century clothes, I felt confused. I’d worn them for most of my life, but the last few years had fundamentally changed me. I thought back on the clothes I’d brought with me to Scotland originally. They were smart, sensible options. I always thought I looked good wearing them. But as I stood in the middle of a clothing store, nothing called out to me. Not even pieces I’d have worn before.

I decided to find Jamie clothes first. That would be easier. It was always easier for men to dress, no matter the century. They could wear a kilt and let their knees show, but good lord, if a woman did… Or now, they still had more freedom than the women did. Of course, that applied to more than just clothes. I shook my head, trying to refocus. I grabbed a few pairs of pants and several different shirts. A couple of blazers seemed like a smart choice as well. I eyed a hat for a moment before I decided to leave that up to Jamie.

“Do you want me to keep those at the front for you?” a kind saleswoman asked me.

I glanced at her, feeling thankful. “Yes, please.” I handed her the large bundle I’d acquired. I still needed to look for clothes for myself. I watched a woman who was browsing near me. It had been a couple of years since I’d left. Normally, fashion wouldn’t change all that much in that time. But I had to wonder if the years since the war had changed it at a faster pace. I looked back and forth between various outfits. The old Claire would have easily picked something and left. I didn’t know why I was having so much trouble.

The saleswoman from before walked by me again and I stopped her. “Excuse me.” She turned to look at me, a smile on her face. “I was hoping for some help.” She nodded, encouraging me to continue. “I know this might sound odd, but I’m just not sure what will suit me best anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly and I saw a lightbulb go on. She took a step closer to me. “Are ye the woman from the paper?”

My eyes closed as I nodded.

“Is it true? That ye were wi’ the faeries?”

I breathed out a laugh. The woman’s intent face stared back at me. “More or less,” I replied. “I...was gone for awhile and the clothes I wore before just don’t feel right on me.”

She shot me a sympathetic smile. “I’m more than happy to help you, ma’am. Come right this way. We have a personal shopper in the back.”

“Oh, I don’t know that I need that.”

She waved me off. “Nonsense, this is exactly what she is for.” I was guided back to some room just off the main one. I saw two women talking closely as we entered the room. The saleslady cleared her throat and both women looked over. She put her hand on my shoulder. “I have a customer who is looking for some help. She’s…” she leaned closer to them, “...the woman from the paper.”

They seemed to know exactly what that meant as their eyes went wide. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss…”

“Claire,” I answered. The world knew me as Claire Randall, but I wanted to be Claire Fraser. Giving only my first name seemed easier.

“What seems to be the reason ye’re needing help?”

I cleared my throat, trying to decide how to answer. “I believe you know at least a bit about me. About my...disappearance. And when I came back...well, my clothes just don’t seem like me anymore. I’ve changed a bit, you see. I was hoping to find some pieces that are a bit more fitting to the woman I am now.” I watched as they appraised me for a moment. “I’m sorry, this is ridiculous. I’ll just go grab some things and be out of your hair.”

“No, don’t!” one of them called. I turned back. “This is exactly what we like to do.”

The saleslady left me with the other two and they asked me a bunch of questions I didn’t know how to answer about what I felt comfortable in, colors I liked to wear, fabrics that spoke to me.

The personal shopper — Martha, I think — introduced me to the other woman with her. She was a seamstress who worked in the store. The two women were very interested in finding me pieces I wanted and felt like myself in.

“People often think clothes are just clothes,” Martha said. “But it’s so much more than that. It’s how you express yerself to the world. And for many years during the war, we didn’t get very many choices in how we expressed that. But we’re starting to again. So, I am glad ye’re trying to listen to what you think fits for you.”

The seamstress pulled a sketch of a dress for me and, shockingly, I was sold from the moment I looked at it. It almost reminded me of the clothes I used to wear in Paris. Granted, it had several less layers and would have been considered incredibly inappropriate to wear then. But my eyes locked on it and I could picture myself in it — as Claire Fraser again. With their help, I walked away with several new outfits that I felt good about and a smile on my face.

Before I went back to the hospital, I stopped and changed from my sensible skirt and jumper I’d been wearing since the morning before. The dress was a big change, both in general dressiness and amount of skin showing. But for the first time in quite a while, I was starting to feel in charge of myself again. The war had taken more from me than my home and the people we’d lost. Wearing the dress made me feel daring again and I liked that. I put my coat back on over it, covering up the lower neckline and the straps that only covered a fraction of my shoulders. Compared to the clothes I’d worn in the 18th century, it was even less than a shift. But I liked it and felt like myself again.

I walked back into Jamie’s hospital room, bearing the purchases from earlier in the day. He lit up as I entered again. “Ye’re back!”

Putting the bags down, I walked over toward him, kissing him lightly. “I am. I had a productive morning too.” He nodded at me. “I got us both some new clothes.”

“Ah, good.”

“They’ll keep you in that gown until you leave the hospital, but it’s here when you need it.” I felt a nervous energy run through me as I started unbuttoning my coat. Jamie’s eyes followed me as I slowly stripped off my coat, revealing the new dress beneath it.

“Christ, Claire. What is that?”

I bristled a bit at this. I had been feeling a trifle nervous myself over the general revealingness of the dress, the fashionable sketches the seamstress had shown me notwithstanding. But Jamie’s reaction was making me feel defensive, and thus rebellious.

“It’s a dress,” I said as if it was obvious. “This is how women dress nowadays, Jamie.”

“It barely covers anything.”

“Well I rather liked it,” I replied, hoping for a casual tone. “I liked the way it looked on me.”

“Ye can see everything.”

“No you can’t.”

“Is this really how women dress these days?” Jamie asked, one brow raised.

“Sometimes. I’ll admit this is a bit fancier than everyday wear, but I wanted to put it on. The dress I was wearing when I met you — that you believed was a shift — was a common outfit to wear,” I informed him. I was feeling vulnerable and a bit disappointed. I knew it showed much more than typical 18th century dress, but I hoped Jamie would just appreciate the way I looked in it. My arms came up to cover myself a bit. “I suppose if you find it that abhorrent, I’ll just go change into something else.”

I reached for my coat, wanting to cover up more. “Sassenach, wait.” I paused, but didn’t turn to him. “Come here.” I looked over at him. “I’m sorry. Ye told me that it would be a lot of change and I need to remember that.” He reached his hand out to me. Reluctantly, I put my hand in his and let him pull me closer. “Tis a pretty dress, it’s just...less than I am used to. That’s all.”

“I know. And I should have kept that in mind. I just…” I breathed out a sigh, trying to explain it to him. “I just put it on and felt like I used to, rather than how I’ve felt since I got back — since the war started, really.”

His face fell. “I’m sorry for making ye feel bad.” He sighed. “Ye ken well I dinna always react well when I feel powerless.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. “That’s not true. You were more or less powerless most of the time we were together. When you were a fugitive or when we were at the mercy of the war.” I reached up and cupped his face. “I wasn’t allowed to show any confusion or hardships I faced when I arrived in your time. In order to survive, I had to blend in. But you have me. I’ll not let anything bad happen to you. And anytime you feel a bit lost or confused or overwhelmed, I’ll be here to help.”

“I love ye, mo nighean donn,” he said. “And I promise ye, I’ll do my best to get used to all the changes.”

“You will,” I reassured him. “And I promise you that I’ll try not to throw big changes at you. Give me a moment and I’ll go change.”

“Dinna change,” he told me, holding onto my wrist. “Ye look — pretty doesna quite seem like enough.” I smiled, ducking my head a bit. “And if ye say that it’s no’ indecent, then I believe ye.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know it has a lot less layers and such,” I said, looking down at the dress. He nodded in agreement. I leaned closer to him, a devious look in my eyes. “But you know, that means it comes off a lot faster.”

Jamie’s eyes went comically wide. He crushed his mouth to mine, holding me close. I chuckled against his lips as he continued to kiss me. I returned it in kind, as my hand rested at his neck. It couldn’t go anywhere. We were in a hospital and Jamie was still too weak. But feeling that spark within me again was an amazing feeling.

I pulled back before someone walked in. Encouraging him to scoot over again, I sat in the space beside him, leaning into his side. His arm came around me as I asked him how his day had been so far. We sat there talking and I informed him of the progress I’d made today.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I noticed that he was asleep again. Pressing a kiss to his temple, I moved gently from the bed. I was almost in the chair when someone stopped in the doorway, clearly looking for me. Shooting a look over my shoulder at Jamie, I walked out into the hallway.

“Frank? What’s going on?”

“I was getting ready to go back to Oxford,” he told me. “I wanted to see if you’d changed your mind.”

I looked down at my feet. “I’m sorry, but no. I haven’t changed my mind.”

He was quieter today. “So it’s him, then?” He shook his head. “Do you think if you’d have come with me you would have been happy?”

My shoulders rose into a slow shrug. “I don’t know, Frank. I...I think probably not. I’d have put on a good face, but no, I don’t know that I would have been.” I hated the pain on his face. “I never wanted to hurt you. I hope you believe that. I just changed. We both did. The war changed us.”

“Do you think you could have forgotten him in time?”

I glanced over my shoulder to look back at Jamie’s sleeping figure. I shook my head. “That amount of time doesn’t exist.”

“Where will you go?” Frank asked.

“I’m not sure. For a bit now, I think we’ll stay here in Inverness.”

He nodded, not really meeting my gaze. “I never got rid of your things. I’ll send them to Reggie and you can get them from him.”

My hand reached out, but fell before I touched him. “Thank you, Frank.”

He looked up at me, pain clear on his face. “I love you, Claire.”

“I know.” He wanted me to say it back, but I couldn’t. Not meaning it the same way I had years ago.

With a final nod, he started to turn. “Goodbye, Claire.”

I leaned forward, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Goodbye, Frank.”

He walked away from me and I watched for a moment. Then, I turned back and resumed my place at Jamie’s side. His hand was sheltered in both of mine as I finally felt truly at peace.

Frank had gotten the truth of my disappearance — whether he accepted it or not. Jamie wasn’t dead, but was miraculously in my time and with me. He was going to live. We were going to be together and have our child.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I finally focused on how everything had taken shocking, but beautifully welcomed turns. For the first time since I’d met him, I didn’t have a question in the back of my mind of when or if I’d lose Jamie. He was here. And whole. And, blessedly, mine. That was all I’d ever wanted.

* * *

I walked through the orchard of death, a white shawl around my shoulders. He was there and I could feel it. But would I get there fast enough? There was no child to guide me to him this time. I had to find him on my own. In a pile of bodies, I saw my beloved. His eyes stared up at a starless sky. Bending down, I whispered to him, “Jamie, are you alive?”

His eyes continued to stare skyward. He didn’t say anything back.

I woke myself with a gasp. My hands went to my face, feeling wet cheeks. I breathed rapidly, trying to sort through my dream. The room was dark and suffocating.

Suddenly, a hand was at my back, rubbing in soothing circles. “Sassenach, are ye alright?”

Turning to my right, I saw him. He was still alive. He’d made it to my time. Made it to me. A soft, choked sob ripped from me as I threw myself at him. My arms wrapped around him, clutching him close. He pulled me in closer, holding me securely against him.

“I’m here, a nighean. Ye’re no’ alone. I’m here,” he cooed. “It was just another dream.” I nodded against him. “Was it the battlefield again?”

“Yes.”

He moved back from me only for a moment as he turned on the lamp next to him. Taking my hand in his, he placed it over his heart. His eyes didn’t leave mine as he reassured me that he was there, alive and well. I hated how the dreams plagued me. They’d been peppered across the few months we’d been back together.

“Ye’re no’ alone,” he whispered again.

And whether it was in response to my rapid heart rate or just to prove that I really wasn’t alone, the child within me kicked. I gasped softly, placing a hand on my belly. Grabbing Jamie’s hand, I put it there too, waiting and hoping for another kick. His eyes widened as he felt it too, a smile growing on his face. He leaned down and placed a kiss against my stomach, whispering quick words to our child.

“None of us are alone,” he said, looking back up at me.

“Exactly. And we never will be again,” I declared.

Jamie leaned forward, kissing me softly. “Exactly.” He reached to turn the lamp back off. “Now, let me hold ye as ye fall back asleep. Perhaps it will keep the nightmares at bay.”

I followed his suggestion, rolling on my side. His arms came around me, cradling my belly and securing me in his grasp. My eyelids quickly grew heavy again. I scooted back into him, getting as close as possible. I had vowed to never take his presence for granted. As I fell asleep, I felt the rightness in the world. For Jamie was with me. And that was enough.

#one quote one shot book 2 #outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing

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smileyjaeminies · 5 years

Text

In times of war

Synopsis: As captain of the archers, you try your best to defend your country in time of war. Your closeness with the Prince and his first ever battle come to sway your concentration on the battlefield.

Word Count: 6, 8 k

Genre: Narnia au!, Prince Minho! Au, angst

Warnings: Fighting, war, curse words here and there

Member: Minho, ft. Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin

A/N: This work is quite dear to me, for Narnia formed my whole childhood. I really hope you can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

UPDATE: In times of war now has a sequel!! Click here to check it out!!

You took your last steps, climbing the hill of the overlook as the sky assumed one of your favourite colours, a beautiful magenta you couldn't tear your eyes off of. Indeed, Narnia was a gifted land, with skies more beautiful and stars more bright than any other. You greeted the guard, exchanging a few pleasantries before taking your assigned position. The other guard took off, making for a pub or back at the camp to rest.

The silence engulfed you completely as you kept watch over the valley. Your thoughts drifted away as the world beneath you slowly fell asleep. It had been almost a year of fighting and now and you begun to feel the heavy weight of war over your heart.

From a very young age, you had loved being athletic. From fighting with your brother, to running in the fields, you had tried everything your parents could offer you. However, you found your true passion in the form of a bow and arrow, a gift for your seventeenth birthday. You trained and trained, learning and improving with each passing day. You never thought it would be a skill you'd use at war.

One day you were hunting in the Shuddering Woods, a forest near your home. You were trailing a doe, certain you'd be able to catch it this time. Your bow and arrow were ready at your hands, your feet light upon the leaves as to not make any sound. The doe was still; the kill seemed almost easy to you as you lifted your bow, taking a deep breath and taking your aim. You were startled to hear hooves on the ground and raised voices coming closer and closer.

By the time you let your arrow fly it was too late, the doe was already off. You used words your mother would be horrified to hear coming from your mouth and made your way to the raised voices.

"I suppose you consider yourselves very clever indeed" you said, leaning on a tree as five men on horseback made their way to you.

"And what would you know about it?" one of them challenged you.

"Well, you just scared off my family's dinner with the awful ruckus you were making" you answered, standing straight in front of his horse.

"Oh really? I supposed that bow and arrow were your brothers'. What are you doing with that, little girl? You are going to get yourself hurt." he mocked you.

Without a moment's hesitation, you drew your bow to your face, aiming exactly over the man's heart.

"Want to bet?" you challenged him.

"The kid's got nerve!" one of the other men said.

"What were you hunting anyway?" another one said.

"A deer." you answered, not taking your eyes off of the man you were aiming at.

"Let me cut you a deal then. If you bring me that deer, I'll take you in in my unit." he said effortlessly.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" you asked, tearing your eyes off your target but without lowering your weapon.

"I'm going to give you this" he said, offering you a horn. "You can tell the guards it's mine and they will lead you straight to me."

You hesitated only for a moment. Fighting was not something you loved, despite the fact that you were good at killing. You hesitated to use your skills opposite other humans. Maybe you wouldn't even catch the deer. Maybe you'd go back empty- handed.

You lowered your weapon, taking the horn from the man’s hands.

"Who do I ask for?" you asked.

"General Ravenseer" he said.

You simply nodded, turning to shoot another harsh look at the man that taunted you. You turned on your heel, getting lost inside the safety of the trees.

"You really going to take her in?" you heard someone ask.

"No way can that girl catch a deer." the General answered him, all the men breaking into laughter.

"Sure, laugh now, you won't be able to do it for much longer" you thought.

It took you three days to find another doe and this time you wouldn't let her go anywhere. You chased it around and around, and finally you were able to take the kill. Carrying a 60kg deer back home was no easy task, but you managed. You skinned it, and with the help of your mother smoked its meat, placing it into two large baskets.

You then took some time to think. Think about how your life would change depending on your decision. Think about how you would feel about yourself, if you could bear the burden. You thought and thought, your head aching and spinning. Overall, your will to serve your country and to be a proud Daughter of Narnia overpowered everything else. You thought upon Queens Susan and Lucy of the legends, both truly brave and strong. They stood as equals next to their brothers, fighting and serving their country at the best of their abilities.

The very next day, equipped with the two baskets and the General's hunting horn, you made your way to the castle. It was a long journey to Cair Paravel, but you were determined to arrive in two days. When you finally reached the gates, you asked to be led to the General and by showing his horn you were granted access. The General was stunned to see you walk through the door, easily placing the two baskets along with his horn in front of him.

He seemed to truly take you in for the first time, weighing your odds. You returned his look, determined to serve and make Narnia proud. And that's what you did. Working tirelessly next to other soldiers, it didn't take long for you to start climbing through the ranks.

You took a look at your shoulder, the Captain's badge embedded onto your uniform. You were proud of yourself, you had made it. Even when war came upon your peaceful kingdom, you didn't cower, instead rushing to battle.

Your thoughts drifted to your first battle, the crying and screaming, the sounds of metal on metal. Your General screaming at you and your comrades to load, draw, loose again and again, until your hands were bleeding and your back aching.

You brushed away the thoughts, shaking your head to be cleared of them. You turned your attention back to the valley where a shadow had just started to move. Your eyesight was not as strong in the moonlight, but you readied your weapon as you saw the figure move. It was carrying something? Someone? You readied your shot, just as it stopped moving.

The figure made the mannequin it was carrying stand, fake hand outstretched and stepped back. He moved, hitting the mannequin again and again, circling around it only to hit it again from behind. You lowered your bow, standing back. Just another soldier trying hopelessly to prepare himself for battle.

"Just like the prince" your mind added before you could stop yourself.

And just when the thought came to your mind, you turned to look at the soldier once again. He was still dancing around the mannequin, hitting it from any angle he could. You took a closer look, as close as the moonlight could grant you and it became clear; your Prince was before you. It was unmistakable, you reprimanded yourself, the line of his shoulders, the way he set his jaw, his moves and technique all screamed of Prince Minho.

Your mind rushed back to the day you first met the Prince. You were about to complete your training and finally be able to leave the grounds. You were seerving a night watch, the cold seeping through your light armour despite the fire that burned right next to you. Your mind wished to trail away, to remember of days filled with sunlight and laughter back at your parents’ house. You willed yourself to stay alert and do your job.

Not long after, your ears picked up the faint sound of footsteps coming your way. Unsheathing your longsword, you turned to the stranger, pointing the edge of your sword to his neck.

“Who goes there? What is your business, up and about in the small hours of the night?” you asked.

The stranger weighed you in, his eyes darting from your face to your sword, to your eyes. He stayed silent, watching you.

“So? Answer me!” you said abruptly.

“One would think that he’d be free to walk his own castle as he pleases.” He stated simply, smirking.

You were frozen in place, everything becoming clear. The Prince was before you and you tried to arrest him like some kind of criminal. You dropped your sword to the ground, bowing before him.

“My Prince, I have made a grave mistake. Please forgive my folly, I was merely trying to do my job” you tried explaining.

“That is no way for a lady to bow. You should curtsey before your Prince.” He said.

Anger pulsed through your veins, heat rushing to make your cheeks hot. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down before answering.

“But it is the way a soldier should bow before their Prince. I am no less a soldier of your guard and of your armies than any other man in this castle, your Highness.”

“What is your name, girl?” the Prince asked, grabbing your chin and making you face him.

“Y/N, if it pleases your Highness.” You answered, meeting his eyes.

“Y/N, I am glad to have soldiers like you in my guard. Thank you for your service.” He said.

You gasped then and gasped again at the memory. The honor of someone in the Royal Family saying those words to you was immense.

“Thank you, my Prince. I am always at your service.” You managed, bowing again.

The Prince only nodded, smiling at you.

“Until we meet again, Y/N” he said, moving away from you.

And from that moment on, you saw Prince Minho everywhere. Where you had barely seen him a couple of times from afar, for the next months until your discharge he would turn up everywhere you went.

He wouldn’t shy away from talking to you either, going as far as to offer you tea on one occasion. You tried to keep your distance as much as you could without offering him any offence, but the Prince seemed set on befriending you.

You were horrified to see him in the training field one day, the General beside him. You walked up to a post not too close to them, but before you could get ready, the General beckoned you over. While walking there your mind didn’t fail to notice the Prince, his hair now pushed back away from his face and a loose white tunic falling around his frame. The gear he was wearing made him look more sophisticated and grown up, despite his young face.

“Captain! I knew you’d turn up eventually!” the General said.

“Always do sir, we all need our training.” You answered him.

“Yes, yes, that’s true. Captain Y/N, this is Prince Minho, I doubt you’ve met formally before-” the General was saying.

“Oh, we’ve met. I told you when I asked for her, General” the Prince cut him off, a smirk falling on his lips.

Your cheeks turned crimson with anger and shame. How dare he ask for you, as if you were a new piece of furniture he wanted? And how dare he talk like that in front of your General, a man you looked up to and owed your whole career to? You said nothing, stood there and waited for further instructions and it killed you.

Prince Minho didn’t fail to notice the difference in your stance, but had to quickly turn his attention to the General.

“Yes I suppose all our paths cross around the castle” the General tried to cover up. “But, as I was saying, Y/N, you will have the great honor of mentoring our Prince in the art of archery.” He announced.

You stood frozen while your mind was overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions.

“M-Me, sir?” was all you managed, as the Prince smiled down at you.

“Well you are the most talented archer I’ve seen in years and Prince Minho is Narnia’s future. We can as for nothing than the best, right Captain?” the General turned to question you.

“Of course sir. You will not be disappointed.” You said at last.

After a few more words and a promise to check up on the Prince’s progress regularly, you were left alone with the Prince. None of you spoke for a few minutes as your eyes scored the grounds and his were trained on your face.

“Are you cross with me?” he asked and you were surprised by how small his voice was.

“No, your Highness, I would never.” You answered him.

“Please drop the formalities, Y/N. Also, I need not remind you I have five sisters and a very loving Mother. I know what an angry woman looks like.” He said.

“Come here” you told him, drawing him closer to you. “You see that woman over there, gathering weeds? That’s one of your Mother’s spies. And that man down there, planting the flowers? That’s the General’s. The boy that is carrying that sack? That’s from your friends in Archenland. Every single move you make is being watched. You should be wary of every choice you make both inside and outside your castle. Do you understand now?” you asked.

“Yes. Yes I do understand.” The Prince said.

After that day, your training with the Prince was peaceful. You took pride in the progress he had made and how the General thanked you for your good work.

You saw none of that now. The Prince was breathless, beating the poor doll like a savage. That’s why you hated one on one battles. You found the bow and arrow much more delicate and artful.

Another memory popped in your mind, of a day you tried your best to forget. It had been a month before, while you were dispatched back to Cair Paravel as part of the King’s guard. One day, as you were going back to the barracks to rest, you found the Prince’s close companion, Jisung, sitting on the steps.

“Captain! Finally you’re back!” he exclaimed upon setting eyes on you.

“Jisung, what brings you here?” you asked him.

“I have urgent word from the Prince. He wants to see you at once.” He told you.

“Let’s get going then!” you answered, quickly going up to the castle.

Jisung led you through parts of the castle you’d never seen before, walking quickly and without talking. He ushered you through a door to what you could only guess were the Prince’s chambers. The room was in shreds. Parts of the bedding had fallen on the floor, torn, pieces of glass and porcelain were everywhere and before the window stood Prince Minho, breathless, cheeks burning, sweat dripping from his hair.

“Y/N…” he says, and his eyes dart to Jisung. “Get out.” he says, burning eyes on him and Jisung almost trips over his own legs in his effort to do his Prince’s bidding.

“Your Highness… what did you do?” you ask Minho.

“Y/N…” He says again making his way to you.

You take note of his hands, which are filled with blood. The knuckles are red and irritated, the skin has broken open and the palms are bleeding, with tiny bits of glass embedded inside. You ask Jisung, who is standing right outside the door, for some water and a cloth, a salve for cuts and gauze.

In the meantime, you try to have Minho sit down. He tells you bits and pieces of what had happened and you listen without speaking. In an effort to keep yourself busy, you close the open windows and do your best to gather the broken pieces in a single corner on the floor. Jisung rashes back with a basinet filled with water and a cloth like you asked him, only to disappear immediately.

“I-” the Prince starts, but you cut him right off.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first. This is going to sting.” You warn him and he nods.

You slowly brush the wet cloth on his hands, trying to get rid of the excess blood. After that, you start picking out the glass shards. The Prince stays quiet, biting his lip bloody and hissing here and there. After treating both his hands with the salve and wrapping them up with clean gauze, you finally take one good look at him.

You only see a person torn. His eyes are still bloodshot from crying, his hair is as messy as you’ve ever seen it. You let the silence engulf you for a few more moments before he speaks up, voice low.

"I can’t stand it anymore, Y/N. Changbin is out there, fighting my battle. My father is always close to the battlefield. Even you, you’re fighting and I sit here waiting for any of you to come back. No more. I can’t just sit in here while my people are giving up their lives. I have to fight"

"You don’t get it, do you? Prince Changbin is third in line! He might never see Archenland’s throne! You are our future. No one will ever be you. Narnia is nothing without you. You are a selfish boy, who knows nothing about battles. You've never struck a foe and I hope you'll never have to." You answer him, exasperated.

That fight went on and on in circles, as the whole castle heard your raised voices. You stormed out of the Princes chambers some time in the small hours of the night, tears streaming down your face because he would just not listen.

Though you tried to hide it and often failed to admit it even to yourself, you were fond of the Prince. You would always find your mind trailing to him, your eyes would follow him without your knowledge and your mind would note the tiniest details of his features and face.

As you looked at him from the overlook, you knew, and had known for quite some time that you should put your feelings for the Prince aside. But the heart reigns over the mind and as much as your mind was telling you no, was not enough.

When he guard for the next watch arrived, you rushed back to the camp. You had barely walked in when Jisung approached you out of the blue.

“Captain, I-” he started.

“I know he’s here. You can tell His Highness I’ll be with him shortly.” You told the boy before he had the chance to speak to you.

You did your best to clean yourself up, tying your hair back on a loose ponytail. You found your way around easily through the darkness. Your previous wins had allowed you to stay at the same place for quite some time now, but the soldiers were getting tired and grumpy.

Fighting was not easy and as much as you won, the losses you had were immense. The war seemed to go on indefinitely and what had begun as a small murmur was now in every conversation. The arrival of the Prince seemed to quiet things down, but for how much longer?

Lost in your thoughts, you allowed yourself in the Prince’s tent, only to let out a small yelp. Before you, stood Prince Minho, shirtless, wearing only a loose pair of trousers. He seemed surprised at your sudden entrance as well, fumbling over a chest of clothes.

“Your Highness, I am terribly sorry” you mustered, facing the wall of the tent, giving him some privacy.

“I should’ve expected that” you heard him mumble and you chuckled lightly.

His shadow danced on the wall of the tent, still looking for a shirt in the big chest. An array of profanities left the prince’s mouth as you still looked directly to the wall. You saw his shadow pulling a shirt on his frame and tried to calm your racing heart down.

You were too preoccupied to notice the Prince walking up to you, raising a hand to touch your face. You jumped at the contact, but that did not faze him as he brought up a second hand, cupping your face in his hands. He stared into your eyes and you tried to do the same, but the intensity of his look forced you to look down.

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” you whispered.

“You know I have to be here.” He answered.

“No. No you don’t.” you said.

You moved to turn away, move out into the camp and back in your small tent. The others would be moving soon, you should be resting. Before you could move though, a strong grip on your arm pulled you back.

“Please. Please stay” the Prince asked in a small voice.

“I can’t” you tried to tell him.

“Then your Prince commands you. Stay.” He said, his voice not small anymore, but sure and steady.

You turned to face him, trying to erase every emotion from your face. You didn’t know if you succeeded or not, but the Prince led you further inside and sat you down on a couch.

Silence enveloped you as you did your best to sit straight, look straight and breathe evenly. The Prince’s eyes burned the side of your face as his hand held yours tightly, tracing shapes on the back of your palm.

“What is it like? War?” he asked finally.

You tried to take a deep breath and gather your thoughts before answering him.

“It’s nothing like training. It’s messy. And dirty and loud. I don’t know how it is one on one but I suspect it’s even worse. It’s… A nightmare.” You answered truthfully.

The Prince nodded, but you knew he wouldn’t understand. No one understands until they fight.

“Why do you do it? Why don’t you run away? Go someplace safe?” he asks again.

“If war is here, soon it will spread everywhere. Narnia is as much my country as it is yours, your Highness. I’ll fight for it until my last breath.” You replied.

The silence was deafening as the Prince took in your words. Suddenly, the entrance of the tent opened and Prince Changbin emerged, holding a bottle of wine and exclaiming Prince Minho’s name. You jumped, stepping away from the Prince as he looked at his friend.

Prince Changbin looked from you to the Prince several times before asking “Bad timing?”

Prince Minho laughed loudly, getting up to greet his friend.

“No, not at all, dear friend” he said, hugging the other Prince.

“About time you joined us! I was beginning to think you a coward” Prince Changbin said.

“No, no such thing. Only the loving fear of a Prince first in line” Prince Minho answered him.

“Well, at the eve of your first battle, I come bearing gifts!” Prince Changbin announced.

“I do not think that would be wise, friend” Prince Minho says, pointing at the wine.

“You were always the wise one, were you not, Minho?” he asked.

“I think you’ll have to excuse me, your Highness” you spoke up.

Prince Minho turned to look at you. You knew he couldn’t speak up while Changbin was there, so you moved to the entrance of the tent.

“Yes, yes, thank you for your service or whatever.” Prince Changbin dismissed you.

That was all you needed. You walked away, back into the clear air of the night and found your way to your tent. Not bothering to change, you laid under your blankets.

Before you fell asleep, you sent a prayer to Aslan to keep the Prince safe in the battle to come and not to let him drink that night.

After what felt like mere minutes, the sound of raised voices woke you up from your slumber. You woke up dipped in sweat and breathless from another nightmare. You had dreamt of standing in one of the balconies on Cair Paravel, facing the sea. Prince Minho was beside you, talking to you, only you couldn’t hear a thing. You couldn’t speak either, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

You shook your head, shaking the thoughts of your dream away with it as well. You got up, getting ready for battle. Gathering your equipment, you moved quickly through the constant flow of other soldiers to find your unit. It took a long time for everyone to move accordingly, taking their places for battle.

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The archers were placed on the same overlook she had been at the previous day, looking down at the valley, only the view was wildly different. The serene, quiet picture she recalled was filled with people that morning. The metal from the soldier’s armour blinded them as they moved, the huge crowd making her anxious.

Before long, the others were standing opposite Narnia’s armies. They came from behind the trees, taking their own place on the chessboard the valley had transformed into. The General shouted out for the archers to load and keep steady. Everyone was holding their breaths, waiting for someone on either side to make the first move.

A man on horseback from the others started to move forward, the man everyone knew started the war, the selfish King, along with a Minotaur. Narnia’s side answered, sending forth Prince Minho with one of the Centaurs. The short discussion of those moments was filled with anger and resentment from each side.

Simultaneously, two voices whispered their quick prayer to Aslan. They prayed for safety and grace, of an upcoming victory and concentration and most importantly, to save the others’ life over theirs.

And within a few minutes, the battle had begun and mayhem had ensued. The cries of commands being given rung in everyone’s ears as she did her best to stay focused. Bringing down enemy after enemy, the metallic smell of blood filled the air. With effort, she spotted him, from her place up and away with the other archers, watched as he moved elegantly here and there. He was an avenging angel, a coursing river, fire spreading in a forest.

Nothing, not all the training in the world could have prepared him for the thrill of battle. He struck at foe after foe, never quite certain he did anything but push them back. Adrenaline cursed through his veins as he had no time to think, just act, his instincts taking over.

And as quickly as it had started; it was over. The others were pushed back onto the tree line and Narnians remained victorious. A deal for ceasefire was struck and time was given to each side to gather their losses and tend to their wounded.

During the battle, the archers had been forced to move downward, so her way back to the camp was quick. She longed to lie down, every bone in her body screaming for her to rest. She moved quickly, bee-lining to her tent, brushing off the soldiers shouting and drinking the horror of battle away.

Safe as ever, she buried herself under the safety of her blanket. Closing her eyes, she thanked Aslan for his blessing as sleep enveloped her, guiding her to a blissful oblivion.

His story was wildly different. He laid on the ground, hearing different voices shouting over his head. A familiar face finally appeared and relief washed over him. If Jisung was there, everything was bound to be okay. The only sound to come out of his mouth was her name, low and repeated like a prayer. Then, there was darkness.

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Your sleep was restless once again, with nightmares plaguing your dreams for yet another night. You twisted and turned under your covers, dreaming of a vast darkness surrounding you, the Prince shouting your name from afar. You were confused, unable to understand where the sound was coming from. You were woken up by the raised voices of men outside the tent.

“I can’t go in there!” one voice said.

“Well, someone has to!” the other argued.

You allowed the fight to go on, slowly getting on your feet and pulling on your boots. You opened your tent to find the two boys still going at it. They jumped at your appearance, both awkwardly looking back at you.

“Jisung.” You greeted the boy. “And Hyunjin. What brings you here?” you asked calmly.

The two boys started talking at the same time, then turned to stare at each other for interrupting. You saw Hyunjin was about to snap, so you took action, stepping in.

“Jisung? Talk to me.” You said.

“Captain, I am terribly sorry for this, this fellow-” Jisung started but Hyunjin interrupted.

“Captain, I barely did anything, this one-” Hyunjin countered.

“BOYS. Enough.” You shouted, both of them immediately snapping their mouths shut.

“Jisung. What’s up?” you asked again.

“Captain, the Prince…” He hesitated.

You shot him a hard stare, urging him to go on.

“He was injured. During the battle” He announced finally.

“How is he?” you asked, trying to mask your feelings. You hoped the crazy pace of your heart was not heard by the boys in front of you.

“Much better. The healer was with him, he said he’ll be just fine, thank Aslan.” The boy said.

You released a breath you didn’t know you had been holding and fought to compose yourself.

“Okay.” You said, trying to keep a straight face. You moved to turn to Hyunjin, but Jisung stopped you. “He was asking for you.”

“Fine. Just give me a second alone with Hyunjin” you told him and he walked a few feet away, giving you some privacy.

“Hyunjin. Is everything alright?” you asked.

Hyunjin was a greenie. He had only turned up a few months prior, but aced his training, giving himself a one way ticket to the front of the line, with you. A precious relationship had blossomed between you, for he reminded you so much of your brother, who you had lost in one of the first battles.

“Y/N…” Hyunjin said, dropping the formalities, “I’ll be okay, you’ve been summoned, you have to go.” He told you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The boy just nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze and pushing it off of him. He then turned on his heel, off to only Aslan knew where.

You took a few seconds to compose yourself before turning to follow Jisung’s lead to the Prince’s tent. Your mind whirled with questions and emotions in the short walk. What had happened? Jisung said he was okay, but how hurt was he? Was he in a lot of pain?

Arriving at the Prince’s tent, Jisung gave you a curt nod, leaving you alone. You let yourself in, finding a bright fire burning inside, making your cheeks flare up. You saw the outline of the Prince’s body laying quietly on the bed. Walking closer, you saw his black hair spread unevenly upon the pillow, eyes shut tight and mouth hanging slightly open.

You moved his covers a little, careful not to disturb his sleep. Looking inside, you discovered the Prince was shirtless, layers upon layers of bandages covering his torso, some of them already bleeding through. You laid the covers back down, watching the Prince wince when they made contact with his skin.

Making an effort to keep quiet, you drew a chair next to him. You watched his chest rise and fall in an even rhythm, mesmerizing you and allowing your thoughts to roam free. You had been staring for a while, so you noticed the Prince taking a few deep breaths. Slowly and with visible effort, he opened his eyes, which landed on you.

He gave you a small smile, closing his eyes again for a few seconds before opening them again, only to find you looking back at him.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“I’m right here, your Highness” you told him.

“I thought you were a dream” he confessed.

“No, your Highness, I’m here” you said, smiling at him.

“Can you stay?” he asked, his voice faltering.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” You told him.

“Neither would I” the Prince told you, giving you another weak smile before sleep overtook him again.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The injury the Prince had sustained was not too serious. With rest and quiet, he was able to have a speedy recovery. Meanwhile, the King and ambassadors worked tirelessly to strike a peace with the others.

And there you were; in Cair Paravel’s Great Hall, feasting upon your victory. Peace. It seemed unbelievable to you that the war was finally over. You sat at the table with the other lower officers, at the back of the hall. You drank and sang with them, ate and talked, all the while feeling two eyes burning through the side of your head.

At the other end of the hall sat the King and his family, ambassadors and officers surrounding them. Although it was not too far away, it felt like a lifetime separated you from them. That day was the Prince’s first appearance since the battle. He looked well, strong and there was nothing else you could’ve asked for.

As the feast reached its climax, the officers around you started passing out, with some even being gently carried away. Before long, the smoke from their pipes caused your mind to become hazy and the loud music ringed in your ears as the dryads were dancing in the middle of the hall.

The combination of scents and sounds made you sensitive, so you excused yourself, making your way outside to take a breath of fresh air. Your feet carried you around the castle you knew so well, leading you to one of the lower balconies.

Your mind noted how similar the view was to the one from your dream. You marveled at the beautiful view of the ocean and sky meeting at the end of the horizon. Looking down, you saw the soldiers were having their own feast next to the castle. You looked at the fires burning bright, fawns dancing around them to the sounds of flute and lyre.

“Are you looking for something?” a voice asked you, making you jump.

You turned around to meet the Prince’s eyes only a step away from you.

“No, your Highness. I just needed some air” you answered him.

“So we’re back to square one?” he asked you again, making no effort to mask his frustration.

“I don’t understand-” you began, trying to make an excuse, but he cut you off.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, Y/N.” he told you sternly.

You did know what he was talking about. The day after the battle, the Princess Sophia arrived at the camp to tend to her wounded brother. She found you in his tent, helping the Prince with his breakfast. A huge fight ensued between brother and sister about your place, making you hear insults you that stayed imprented in your memory.

After that, you retreated into the back of the camp. Jisung would come to summon you again and again, but every time you made up some excuse. Hyunjin was very curious, but respected your privacy and didn’t press you for an explanation.

You hadn’t seen the Prince since that morning. And now, he was looking back at you with those dark eyes of his, seeing inside your soul. He was dressed formally for the occasion, his dress shirt tightly fitting his body, dark trousers on his legs. Your hands longed to touch him, to reach for him and keep him close. But that was unacceptable and it would never happen again.

“Your Highness, you forget my place.” You tried to explain.

“You think I care? You think I care what people will think? What they say? You think I care about my sister, or my Mother and Father? No, Y/N. All I care about, all I’ve ever cared about, is you.” He said passionately.

He took a step closer, raising a hand to reach for you. Without thinking, you took a step back, your back hitting the railing of the balcony. Emotions flashed in his eyes one after the other, so quick you could barely tell them apart, as his hands dropped to his sides. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned back around to look at the sea in an attempt to conceal them.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t care about you? You think I’ve spent all these years next to you without loving you? No, my Prince, that is not the case.” You told him.

He came to stand next to you, placing his hand on top of yours. You tried not to flinch as a steady fire started burning where his skin touched yours.

“Then why-” he began, but it was your turn to cut him off.

“Why don’t I accept my feelings? Because they are entirely wrong. You and I both know it, no matter how much we hate to admit it, even to ourselves. Even if you say you don’t care about other people, that is not true and we both know it. You are the Prince of Narnia, first in line for the throne and your Princess will one day be Queen. I can never be Queen.” You said.

“Why would I or my people want a silly rich girl for our Queen? You’ve fought valiantly for Narnia, you’ve given back as much as you could. There is no man or woman that loves their country as much as you. I don’t see why you would be unfit to rule.” He countered.

“I love Narnia. Which is why I must leave it.” You announced.

You heard the Prince gasp, you felt him move next to you, but you couldn’t bear to look at him. You kept your eyes trained to the distance, to the soft waves and to the clouds, running around the sky.

“You’re leaving? When? Why?” he asked.

“Next month. I’ll be the Master of Archery for the Princes of Archenland.” You answered him.

“Next month… But, Y/N you can’t leave Narnia. This is your home, this is your place.” He told you.

“Don’t you realize I have to? Soon enough, this land’s finest Ladies will come paying visits hoping to earn your favour. And I’ll have to watch from the sidelines as you fall for someone new, someone that can and will stand next to you for the years to come.” You said.

Your cheeks were burning and new tears were filling your eyes. This time, you made no effort to conceal them, letting them make their way down your face.

“Oh, Y/N” the Prince said, cupping your face.

You let him. You had nothing left to lose. You melted into his touch as he looked into your eyes. He crashed you onto his chest and you wrapped your hands around him, holding onto him with everything you had.

“Y/N, Y/N, my Y/N” he whispered, squeezing you in his arms.

You let him pepper sweet kisses at your hairline, on your cheeks, on your eyes, at the tip of your nose. When his lips finally found yours, you felt your heart soar. Thoughts died in your mind as every thought was overwhelmed but him, him, only him.

You broke away first, gasping for air. You kept close, your foreheads touching. If you moved an inch his mouth would be on yours again. The mere thought had your head spin in circles. You took deep breaths, making an effort to keep your head straight.

“I seem to always be asking for you to stay. I will try once more. Stay” he whispered.

“I can’t” you said, your voice breaking.

“Give me tonight then. Just tonight. You’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours.” He pleaded, running a hand through your hair.

You met his eyes, trying to find the right answer in them. You were shocked to find such despair and urgency. You knew that the right thing to do was disappear. But when he held you like this, looked at you like this…

You nodded your head, knowing your words would fail you. He pressed another sweet kiss on your mouth, then took your hand to lead you back inside the castle.

You took one last look at him, the true love of your life, before disappearing the next morning. Even if you were never going to see him again, that night would stay in your mind and your heart forever.

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #narnia au #minho #lee minho #lee know #angst #minho prince #prince au #minho angst #stray kids #skz #stray kids angst #skz angst #skz lee minho #skz lee know #alex #alex writes #minho x reader

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spectralscathath · 4 years

Note

Now give me: Silver Shamrock Gunslinger apocalypse AU

I was originally writing this for @ironpines because I know they love Silver Shamrock! Unfortunately Life happened but hopefully once my semester ends I can spruce this one up and finish it!

The basic premise: Wild West cowboys, but it’s also a post-apocalypse. I almost never write cowboy stuff so this is an interesting change of pace.

Here we go!

James checked the body of the revenant, spinning his revolver’s barrel before deciding to empty the last two shots into the monster’s head. It was always best to make sure. He waited for the light to fade from the revenant’s eyes before he slid his guns back into their holsters.

He swung himself up onto his steed and clicked his heels, the right knee whirring with the movement as his horse set off. The west was as desolate as usual, endless empty plains that slumped under a cold moon, the desert’s chill seeping into his bones.

Not the usual place to find monsters, especially not in the daylight. Like the rest of the monsters that had ravaged the world, they tended to stick to the shadows, lurking in the cool of the night.

He barely remembered a time before they’d become a plague on humanity, creatures once thought of as fairytales and folklore come to life. Personally, he liked to categorize them into two types. The ones that died and died again, and the ones that got turned, those ones didn’t have enough human left in them to die. The latter were tricky, smart, and full of surprises.

He spurred his horse onwards into a trot, aiming to reach the barricaded town he’d heard was out here. He could hear the faint sounds of monsters in the distance, screams and roars making up a discordant melody that filled the night’s silence. He was used to the sound by now.

There was an upside to the empty hopelessness of the plains, when he noticed a faint glow on the horizon, lights from a town that stood out against a starless sky. He leaned forward and gave Caliburn’s neck a quick pat, a silent thanks to the horse for taking them all this way.

It was when he started up the next sloping ridge that he gave the reins a gentle tug, bringing his steed to a stop. There was a rider on top of the ridge, and it unnerved him slightly that he hadn’t noticed until now.

He stayed put in the saddle, tipping his hat back slightly to give himself a better view. The rider on the bay horse inclined his head. “Not seen you around before, stranger.”

“I’m passing through.” Ironwood kept his voice measured, assessing the other man. An emerald pin and a badge gleamed on his chest, the latter marking him as a man of the law, his workman’s gloves bulky and thick.

The other man raked his eyes over James, lingering on the guns on his belt. “Just going to have to let you know, unless you’re a keeper of the peace, we don’t take kindly to strangers packing heat.”

James reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered sheriff's badge, tossing it over with a gleam of silver. “James Ironwood, sheriff of Atlas.” He decided not to mention that Atlas no longer existed.

He drummed gloved fingers against the saddle’s pommel as he waited to get his badge back, the last remnant of a life ripped away from him. It was tossed back with a cocky carelessness that didn’t even register as an annoyance, the other man giving him a much friendlier grin.

“Clover Ebi, I’m the deputy around the parts. You passing through Mantle or thinking of staying?”

“The former.” He couldn’t really think of any reason to stay. All he really wanted from life was to stay on the move, killing monsters until one got lucky and took his life. It was all he could do, now.

He had no one to protect.

Clover raised a brow and nudged his horse back towards the town. “I’ll escort you through the gates.”

“Much obliged,” he nodded in thanks, placing his star-shaped badge back in his pocket. He rode Caliburn over the rise, taking a moment to assess the town of Mantle. The town was situated in a shallow valley, a thin stream and abandoned train tracks crisscrossing through the buildings. The walls were tall and enclosed the entire town, though he could see a rather unfortunate gap in the barriers that looked halfway to being repaired. Outside the walls, a lonely little hill stood with a second wall built around it, grave markers visible inside.

It looked lively enough, he could hear the sounds of people living their lives inside the high walls, quiet due to the late hours. He rode alongside Clover and glanced at the other man, noting the sawn-off shotgun and fishing rod attached to the back of his saddle.

Clover caught his eye and tossed him a toothy grin. “Been on the road a while?”

“You could say that,” he tried and failed to bite back a yawn, forced instead to hide it behind his hand. “Anywhere in town you recommend for a good sleep?”

“The Dragon’s Nest, guy named Tai runs it. He’s a nice fellow.” Clover’s eyes sparkled rather brightly, James noting that they were a rather unique shade of teal green.

“I see. His prices are fair?”

“Fairest you’ll get.” Clover flicked the emerald pin on his breast. “If you’re planning on sticking around for a couple of days, how about you meet me for a drink tomorrow? I wouldn’t mind hearing about your travels.”

James deliberated over it in silence for a minute, weighing the risks. He couldn’t really think of any, aside from his general taciturn nature. He likely wouldn’t slip up and say anything he had no plans to say. He knew how to control his wayward thoughts.

“Where will I meet you?”

“My favourite bar’s called The Gambler’s Hand, the Xiao Longs own that one too.” Clover tipped the brim of his hat to James, giving him a wink. “See you there.”

#rwby #clover ebi #james ironwood #silver shamrock #asks #jadekitty777 #my writings #fuck me I need to finish this damn thing

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atinytokki · 4 years

Text

My Way

iv. Best Case Scenario

There was no point in trying to sneak back into the Hall.

Hongjoong had left the familiar comfort of his former home behind, scared out of reading his mother’s diary by a group of strangers who had been arriving to cart away their belongings, auctioning them off to who knows where.

It was all he needed to know his relatives had gone through with selling the cottage.

So he hid the book in the floorboards, walking back to Jangwon on tired feet, nowhere else to go, and took the verbal beating he knew to expect for running off like he had.

Except it wasn’t just Aunt Minkyung. It was Aunt Ajung, and Aunt Sohee, and even Sohee’s son Myungsoo and his fiancée Bora.

Hongjoong sighed and closed his eyes in exasperation, slowing to a stop in front of them.

It looked like they would be causing a scene in the entryway. One Hongjoong should’ve expected.

“Where have you been all night?” Minkyung snapped. Hongjoong didn’t even get a chance to answer.

“And the night before the funeral, no less!” Aunt Ajung muttered, clearly more upset about the inconvenience than anything else.

“Do you have any idea how worried we were? We thought we’d have to send a search party—” Sohee began but was interrupted by Aunt Minkyung again.

“You could’ve died, do you realise that?”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” Hongjoong finally shot back, trying to get around the imposing gaggle of relations.

Scandalised gasps went up all around him but he kept walking.

The pair of gardeners tending the front lawn were wide-eyed and whispering to each other.

Suddenly someone yanked on Hongjoong’s arm, pulling him back. He was confronted with Aunt Minkyung’s incredibly red face, arm raised as if to deliver a slap.

“How dare you show such disrespect, you ungrateful—”

“Let me through!” Cousin Seyong’s voice broke through the chaos as he pushed past the crowd and pulled Hongjoong out of his mother’s firm grip. “No time, he needs to get ready.”

Confused but grateful to be whisked away from the confrontation, Hongjoong followed Seyong into the private wing occupied by the master of the hall and his immediate family, where Hongjoong had spent the night previously.

Yujung was there waiting and shushed Hongjoong before he could ask anything, scanning him up and down.

“Look at you, you’re filthy.”

He had nothing to say on the matter, so he let himself be scrubbed, washed, rinsed, and dressed. He had to admit as he stood in his best clothes and let Yujung wrangle his hair into something presentable, that it felt kind of nice. Something he had missed.

“You’re taking care of me.”

It sounded like a statement but underneath the emotionless exterior it was a question.

“Well, nothing’s decided. Not until this evening.”

They still had a funeral to get through.

Hongjoong nodded quickly and steeled himself. There was no guarantee of anything anymore. He knew that the moment the storm split their boat in two.

...

The sky was grey. No sunshine, and no rain. Just another average overcast day.

Everyone was assembled behind Jangwon on a hill facing east, the highest point in the town.

They were there, bathed in incense and dressed in grave clothes. They had already been bound in shrouds and waited to be lowered into the ground, with a final nail driven into the coffin lid symbolising the finality of their departure from this world. Those bodies weren’t Hongjoong’s parents anymore.

Uncle Ryeowook was reading off a speech about them, their achievements and contributions to Panhang, their dedication to their family and community, and most of all their tragic reminder to be cautious on the sea.

He said nothing about their kindness or their sense of humour. He wouldn’t remember them by their patience as teachers or their example of bravery. He didn’t know those things about them.

One by one, visitors came up and bowed twice to pay their respects. Hongjoong recognised nearly everyone, and tried not to make eye contact with his former friends and classmates.

His old neighbour Bosung placed a hand on his shoulder silently but left without saying anything else. Hongjoong was glad for it- the fewer awkward conversations, the better. Who knew what would become of those relationships, cut off and fizzled into nothingness once he became prisoner at his family’s behest.

Tuning out the loud wails of the women and turning away from the solemn faces of the men, Hongjoong’s eyes went to the ocean, imagining his parents waiting for him to hurry up and get on the boat so they could set sail and start their day.

When the guests dispersed to drink and stuff their faces with ceremonial food, Hongjoong lingered to bow one last time.

It was deep and long and full of emotions and apologies. The tears he kept at bay.

As he stood, he pictured them casting off without him, leaving him behind to explore fairer shores.

But it was alright, he could be patient.

He’d join them when it was time.

He wasn’t overwhelmed with sadness anymore; he was quietly but fiercely angry.

Nothing Mother and Father needed to know about.

...

“I know about the gossip.”

An embarrassed Yujung turned from where she had been scolding a whispering servant and faced Hongjoong.

He kept talking, mindlessly slicing into pieces of fruit but neglecting to eat them.

“They throw the word orphan around, they say I’ll never inherit anything. That I’m no better than a servant in my own home.”

“It doesn’t matter what they say,” Yujung insisted, shooing away the servants before they could do anymore harm and sitting down across from him, grabbing his arm with conviction.

The action shocked him into slicing himself, flinching at the small trickle of blood coming from his hand. The wound barely registered as Yujung hurriedly snatched up a handkerchief and pressed it to the cut. Hongjoong simply shook his head and went on, “But it’s true. In the best case scenario, I’ll be granted some form of independence until I can escape and take care of myself.”

“Don’t speak like that,” Yujung scolded quietly, with a lot less vigour than anyone else in the Hall would’ve. “We want what’s best for you.”

“Maybe you want what’s best for me,” Hongjoong chuckled dryly. “No one else in this house does.”

He had been snacking on leftover fruit from the funeral all afternoon while his aunts and uncles entertained their guests and then shut the study door again so they could discuss his future living arrangements.

Eventually even Yujung had to leave and give them her opinion. Hongjoong didn’t have much hope in her ability to better his situation, not after what happened last time.

One of the servants came and called him to the room at half past six.

Now was the part when they stopped talking about him behind his back and invited him to the face to face conversation.

Uncle Ryeowook beckoned him forward around the side of the desk and so he went, ignoring the eyes he could feel on him.

“Assuming you don’t want to be sent to an orphanage, we’ve come up with a solution, Hongjoong.”

He said it like he should be grateful for such merciful intervention.

“We think you’ll like it,” Aunt Minkyung added from behind her husband. “Very much in fact.”

Aunt Ajung got straight to the point, reading from the legal document the assembled family members had drafted up. “Technically, you’ll be in the custody of the master of the hall, that’s Ryeowook, but Seyong and Yujung will be your primary caretakers until they have children of their own, as Ryeowook and Minkyung have little time and patience for another child.”

Well, that was a relief.

“Your education will continue under the family tutor, but at your age we’ll be expecting you to work for your keep. In the fields, or the mines, or the kitchens— wherever you’re needed. It will depend on the day.”

It was bare minimum provision, with the slight advantage that he’d be in the care of the least abhorrent of his relatives, but bare minimum nonetheless.

Aunt Minkyung smiled a tight smile at him like she was confused why he wasn’t on his knees thanking them. “It’ll be useful to have someone so flexible helping to run Jangwon!” She explained cheerfully.

Hongjoong knew what they were playing at.

He was old enough to take on responsibility but young enough not to be granted freedom.

He was well bred enough to be taught social graces but low enough on the ladder to work for free.

So he simply bowed to each of his superiors, extra deeply to Seyong and Yujung, and padded upstairs silently like the outcast he was.

Minutes or hours later- he couldn’t be sure- his new guardians came to find him sitting by the window watching the sun shrink behind the clouds.

The mysterious stranger’s prediction had been right. The second storm was arriving after all.

Cousin Seyong cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried to offer some condolence. “I’m sorry, it’s the best we could do...”

“But I did push for them to give you more time,” Yujung broke in. “Time to, you know, grieve and... and integrate with the routine here... all of that.”

Hongjoong turned to face them and forced a smile. “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. The meeting could’ve turned out a lot worse. “Is there any way I’ll be allowed out on my own from now on?”

The couple glanced at each other indecisively. They’d never been parents, they hadn’t the first clue how to proceed with respects to a boy already approaching his teens.

“Well, you’ve run away once, I wouldn’t put it past you to do so again,” Seyong sighed honestly. “Perhaps as long as you stay away from the cliffside and the beach...”

“Provided you tell us when and where,” Yujung amended quickly. “And you’re always encouraged to bring someone with you.”

“Not that you’ll have much time for wandering anyway,” Cousin Seyong pointed out, pulling the curtains shut, blocking Hongjoong’s view of the coast, and preparing to leave the room. “You’ll be busy with lessons and work and such.”

Keeping him occupied so he couldn’t cause trouble. That was the plan.

Hongjoong nodded his acceptance of the conditions and bade both of them goodnight.

They were worried about him, he could see that, but things were off to such a clumsy start, Hongjoong didn’t put much on their ability to control him.

Not when he already had a destination in mind.

For most of the day he’d sat alone while chaos ensued around him. There would be a small window of time for him to get away unseen but he knew the road well.

As he lay awake, he thought of the family moving into his cottage tomorrow morning. They would have no idea what it had once been like. Maybe they would even move the furniture or change the decorations.

It wouldn’t hurt to simply observe the proceedings from a safe distance, he decided.

Rain was falling on the windows, and his pillow had grown wet, but only from his own tears.

His aunts always told him not to cry, but they weren’t around to admonish him.

For once, he was happy to be alone.

...

A/N: Another sombre update from me :,) Forgive me if the chapters are sparser because of school. Don’t forget to like and rb <3

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ascottywrites · 5 years

Text

The Angsty Post

Where Happy Endings come at the slowest of paces.

*Or, you know, sometimes not at all.

Rewriting the future by Synesthetic (Complete: 28/28| 106,631) --Steter

Two days before their planned bonding, alpha Derek Hale runs away with his secret beta girlfriend, leaving Stiles heartbroken. With the demands of his omega physiology forcing him to bond with someone before his first heat, Derek's uncle Peter steps in and offers a solution.

Backstage is Full of Parasites by Falln_Grce (Complete: 14/14| 61,346) --Steter

A little tweak to the Teen Wolf universe where Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.

What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?

How I Long For Yesterday by sweetbutterbliss (One-shot| 6,017) --Sterek

Stiles blinks, his throat going dry, and he moves his thumb without thinking - liking the post. He feels a surge of petty satisfaction. At least the fucker will know he knows now. He stands up, his body feeling too heavy, and he blows out the already guttering candles. He lets out a sob of frustration when the last one won't fucking blow out. But he sucks it back in and bites down on his tongue, using his thumb and forefinger instead.

He throws himself into their empty bed without undressing. He lies there repeating the words 'Derek blew me off for Isaac' over and over. He tells himself to shut up while rearranging his pillow violently, but he goes to sleep with the refrain continuing its painful loop.

You're Not Who I Thought You Were by halcyon1993 (Complete: 21/21| 84,549) --Sterek

Stiles is lonely. The only person who really talks to him is his best friend, and even Scott seems eager to ditch him whenever someone better comes along. Following a stupid decision made late one night, his small world opens up as he discovers things he never before thought possible and he meets a mysterious man who could be the answer to all of his problems.

In Word and in Deed by lielabell (one-shot| 7,778) --Sterek

Stiles has stopped saying "I love you." Derek wants to know why.

(Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles (Complete: 14/14| 60,051) --Sterek

Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

We Are Made of Our Memories by JenyaKeefe (Complete: 9/9| 12,441) --Sterek

"I don't have amnesia." "Um, clearly you do. You're under a spell that's taken a year's worth of memories." "No. I've wakened from a spell."

Lost on you by devilscut (Complete: 7/7| 51,322) --Steterek

A deadly encounter with an Alpha changes Stiles' life forever - kicked out and betrayed by his best friend and brother, Scott McCall, he leaves Beacon Hills, but much to his surprise not alone. Ten years down the track, living a life he never dreamed possible, a chance meeting brings back memories of that night - the good and bad mixed with a whole lotta WTF that even now still has him scratching his head as to what happened.

In Treatment by tzzzz (Complete: 22/22| 166,937) --Sterek

Derek hires Stiles, a professional alpha sex therapist, to help him through his heat.

The New Normal by midnightcas (Complete: 27/27| 63,392) --Sterek

After Stiles gets hurt...again, Derek puts him on the metaphorical supernatural bench. Meanwhile, Stiles tries to have a normal life and make normal friends. But when a new pack comes to town and the Hales start getting threats, things start to get a little....not normal.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc (Complete: 12/12| 35,380) --Sterek

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Beta read by the amazing Splash_of_ bi! Cannot thank you enough!!

Jokingly I'm adding this WARNING after having two separate comments talk about heart palpitations and others stating they are physically shaking or experiencing high blood pressure after reading the first few chapters.... WARNING: read with caution if you have a pre existing heart condition, Derek and the Pack may cause you to be upset!!

If We Could Match by forestofbabel (Complete: 9/9| 23,455) --Sterek

As Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he should maybe quit. Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk.

Your Heart for My White Fences by zgdtx (Complete: 10/10| 29,444) --Sterek

At first, Derek was the one night stand that he could not pry himself away from. Before he knew it, Derek was the married man Stiles had fallen in love with. Then, Stiles was the little lamb being tossed into a pit of wolves, helpless and alone. There was not much he could do, no, not much at all. Dark AU.

Call in the Air Stike (Tell Them to Make the Drop) by WednesdaysDaughter (Complete: 2/2| 5,126) --Sterek

"How do you tell your best friend that the guy you were slowly falling in love with flat out said you were nothing but a waste of space, and you’ve secretly felt that way about yourself once or twice on a bad day? The answer is, you don’t."

Twyla Hale by FiccinDylan (Complete: 13/13| 37,123) --Sterek

After the formula of their go-to product changes, "Hair Day" becomes "Hell Day" in the Hale Pack household. It's time for Derek to call in the pros, imagine his surprise when he's presented with a wicked tongued white boy with honey brown eyes.

***sure there’s some stuff that happens that’s not fun but i think I would characterize this as light angst in comparison to the inherent possibilities of this fandom lol

Baby You're Beautiful by supernaynay (one-shot| 1,089) --Sterek

“God you’re beautiful.”

Derek hadn’t even realized that the words had left his mouth until the whole room went silent, including Stiles, who until about five seconds earlier was busy yelling at him for putting himself in danger yet again.

I want to do this for you by Late_to_the_fandom (Complete: 17/17| 19,323) --Sterek

“You must be delusional,” Derek deadpanned as he stood abruptly and stalked away indignantly to throw the broken shards of his cup in the garbage can. “In what harebrained scenario of yours did you think I’d say yes to this?” His heart thundered in his chest as he stared at Stiles in disbelief. “Nothing good can come out of this and you know it.” He paced angrily, his hands fisting then uncurling as he tried to rein his emotions. He stopped suddenly, his glare piercing and his words cutting, “I would never let you use me like this.”

There's Something About Love that Breaks Your Heart by Stereklover11 (Complete: 5/5| 7,835) --Sterek

"I love you," Stiles said.

Derek didn't answer right away. Then he said:

"I'm sorry Stiles, but I don't feel that way about you. Or any guy for that matter."

The one where Derek is bisexual but doesn't know it and refuses Stiles' love...at first. ;)

Baby Daddy by DiscontentedWinter (Complete: 25/25| 55,369) --Sterek

Laura Hale decides it's time to expand her pack. And Stiles could really use the money. And Derek... well, that's when things get complicated.

Bake to Remember, Eat to Forget by butyoureyessaidyes (Complete: 19/19) --Sterek

It’s 6:18 A.M. on a Monday, and Stiles is using his thumbs to shape the fondant butt of a Winnie the Pooh sculpture. It’s the most action he’s seen in a long time.

Or the one where Stiles runs his own bakery, never locks the front door, and doesn't know he's part of a werewolf pack (until he does).

Kill Me Once, Shame On You by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle (wip: 15/?| 46,512) --Sterek

In the aftermath of their final bout with Gerard, things kinda went to shit. Yeah, they won. But Scott had violated some major boundaries. Jackson was still an emotionally constipated douche. Erica and Boyd were missing. In general, everyone was left missing a piece of themselves in one form or another. There was also the fact that there was a literal pack of alphas bearing down on them. Stiles was really getting sick of this shit.

(There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf (wip: 19/21| 186,356) --Sterek

"Harris put you on a recon mission with Derek. You. Alone with Derek. On a mission. Together,” Scott says, slowly. “Does Harris want you dead?”

“I believe so," Stiles says gravely.

(Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns.

Oh, and there’s a mole in the agency, so there’s that too).

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imagineseclipse · 5 years

Text

Stiles Stilinski x Reader- Don’t Move

Part 1 Part 3

You wished that you had just stayed in the comfort of Stiles’ room like he had just told you to, if only it was that simple. As soon as he’d left the room to urgently call Scott you had stood up from your seat on the end of his bed. Glancing around his room at the photo’s on his wall, his notes that were scattered around on the floor peaked your interest.

You slowly bent down, picking a crumpled piece of paper up off the floor. Your eyes scanned over the notes, reading about something called the ‘Kanima’. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned over the paper Jackson’s name immediately popping out to you.Your hands reached up to rub your temples, not being able to understand anything Stiles had written, this was way out of your depth.

Something out of the corner of your eye had made your heart stop as you slowly approached Stiles’ window, noticing the black figure stood across the street watching Stiles’ house. Your chest started to rise and fall quicker.

It was the person, the thing that had been following you. It had found you. For a moment you could see it looking directly into his bedroom window, directly at you.

However seconds later, its attention turned somewhere else. You could tell that it’s eyes were now trained on Stiles down on the floor below you because it’s head was turned at an angle and you could hear Stiles’ muffled pleads to Scott from where you were stood shaking.

Your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of the figure moving towards the house. In that moment all that you could think about was Stiles’ safety. This thing was after you, not Stiles so if he wanted you then that’s what you were going to give him. You couldn’t stand to watch Stiles get hurt because of you.

“N-no!”You shouted out, watching intently as the figure crept towards the house. You fumbled around with the locks on Stiles’ window, opening it quickly. You’d have to lead it away from him. From Stiles.

Luckily there was a tree just outside his bedroom that you could climb onto, before the unknown stalker could reach the front door you jumped from the branches, landing with a bone crunching thud on the muddy ground.

“H-hey, over here”you called out angrily. The figure stopped advancing towards the Stilinski house and your breath could be seen in the cold winter air as you exhaled raplidly. Finally you had gotten its attention, however at this point you were frozen to the spot with fear, your legs still sprawled out on the grass in front of you as a pain shot up your thigh.

You mustered up the energy to lift yourself from the ground, sprinting in the opposite direction of the house as the thing followed you close behind. Meanwhile Stiles had heard the commotion up in his room, he immediately dropped his phone to the ground not caring that he was still on the line with Scott.

He threw his bedroom door open, his worst fears playing out in front of him when he saw that you weren’t there, his bedroom window wide open as the wind blew in cold winter air scattering his notes everywhere. He started to panic after finding your phone laying on his bed where you had been sat minutes earlier.

Stiles gulped, rummaging through his draws for the keys to his jeep, not forgetting to pick up one of his hoodies as he clumsily stumbled out of his room, almost falling down his stairs towards his phone that was still on the floor, Scott’s voice buzzing with worry on the other end.

“Scott, I don’t care what you’re doing right now, you need to get your ass on your bike I need your help”Stiles demanded as he ran out of his house, slamming the door behind him.

“Stiles, what’s going on?”Scott questioned his voice riddling with anxiety.

“I’ll explain when you get here, just bring everyone, bring the pack, bring your dad j-just bring everyone you know”Scott listened to Stiles’ voice crack and the alpha sprung into action. Not doubting for even a second that this wasn’t important.

“So you’re telling me that y/n, your y/n is a banshee, the same y/n that you have been in love with f-

“Yes Scott, my y/n”Stiles’ leg bobbed about underneath his steering wheel impatiently as they scanned the streets of Beacon Hills for you. Lydia’s head poked out from the back seat, a frown on her face.

“If she’s just been turnt then she’s going through hell right now, the poor thing must be so confused and lost I know I was”she shook her head sympathetically.

“Not helping Lyd”Stiles’ sore eyes flickered up, glancing at Lydia in the mirror.

The whole pack was out looking for you, Stiles had his father and half the Sheriff’s office scouting around. Even Derek and Peter had been summoned from their loft to join the search party.

Stiles knew that he was desperate because he’d even recruited Theo Raeken to hunt you down. Supervised of course.

With every passing second Stiles grew more upset and angry. Scared that someone had taken you.

“She was attacked okay, at some dumb party that she never should have gone to, her friends are so stupid for taking her there and I just wish-

-you wish you’d told her that you loved her sooner”Scott nodded regretfully, remembering the pain he’d went through when Allison had passed away.

Stiles bit the inside of his lip as they passed by the Beacon Hills preserve, that by this point was dark and gloomy. Lydia’s head appeared in between the two boys again, her voice booming throughout the jeep.

“Stop the jeep, I feel something, I think she’s in there”Lydia jumped out of the backseat as Stiles slammed his breaks down.

Scott’s eyes glowed a deep red, his eyebrows knitting together as he sniffed the air.

“Scott what is it?!”Stiles rushed to his best friends side.

“I think there’s another Alpha here, possibly one that attacked y/n”Scott’s claws appearing from the sleeves of his leather jacket.

“But if she didn’t turn into a werewolf and she’s not a beta, what does it want with her?”Liam piped up from beside Lydia, arriving just on time alongside Mason and Hayden.

“Well it has no use for her so-

“It’s going to kill her”Stiles tried to speak but the lump in his throat caused his voice to break spinning on his heel running deep into the woods, his friends close behind.

You clutched your chest as you continued to sprint through the foggy woodland, not stopping for even a second. Scared that whoever was following you was close behind. When you could feel your lungs start to burst you rested your hand against a large tree bending down carefully so that you could catch your breath.

A twig snapping close by caused you to stop breathing all together, positioning yourself so that your back was hidden by the tree stump. Your vision became blurry and you suddenly felt lightheaded, your mind was clouded with all of these visions and noises. It was making it impossible for you to concentrate on keeping yourself safe.

Just as you were about to make another run for it a pair of hands clamped onto your shoulders, throwing you to the ground violently. The fall had literally knocked the air out of your lungs and you chest started to rattle as you began to cry uncontrollably. The black figure looming above you ready to attack you again.

Your mouth fell open with horror as the figure in front of you started to contort in ways you didn’t know the human body could, it’s bones cracking out of place as it grew taller and stronger, growling as those big red eyes stared into yours.

It’s claws wrapped around your throat, lifting you from the ground squeezing your windpipe. The sounds of your choking and wheezing could be heard as black spots started to fill your vision.

The moonlight shone on this beastly creature as you took what you presumed to be your last breaths, this familiar fizzing feeling conjuring up in your stomach and your lungs to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore.

Before you lost consciousness your mouth opened, letting out a long ear peircing scream that could be heard from where Sheriff Stilinski was stood on the other side of Beacon Hills.

Stiles’ head snapped towards the direction of your scream, without hesitating he sped towards the noise not caring about the fact that the pitch of your voice could kill him.

The pack ran alongside him, Lydia knowing exactly where to go, her being a fellow banshee was very convenient in this situation. Stiles’ heart sank when he caught sight of your lifeless body laying on the ground. Alone.

He sped towards you, skidding to the ground next to your body. Stiles lifted you onto his lap, noticing that there was blood coming from your ears and your nose, your lips were tainted blue.

Stiles pulled out the spare hoodie he had brought for you, wrapping you in it as your skin grew colder and colder.

“Y/n, I need you to wake up, I n-need you to open your eyes, s-show me your eyes, please wake up for me let me help you, you asked for my help and I’m here, I’m here for you j-just please wake up...I-I love you”Stiles sobbed as he cradled your lifeless body.

The pack stood around you, falling silent as Scott noticed the trail of blood leading away from you. You had injured the alpha gravely with your set of lungs, it hadn’t realised how much power it had given you the night it attacked you.

“Liam, call Malia, Derek and Peter. Tell them to get here as soon as possible we have an alpha we need to find”Scott ordered his young beta.

“Stiles, we need to take y/n to a hospital, or deaton”Lydia kneeled down next to the two of you, holding your hand gently. She jumped back slightly surprised at how cold you had gotten.

“Stiles”Lydia pressed as she squeezed his shoulder. You lay with your back against his warm chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively like a warm blanket.

He snapped out of his daze, tucking his hoodie tightly around you as he lifted you from the ground.

“Is she going to die, I mean surely you can tell if another banshee is about to die?”Stiles’ voice was quiet and it was obvious he was still in a state of shock as he jogged alongside Lydia towards his jeep.

Lydia pressed her lips into a firm line as she jumped into the drivers seat, Stiles climbing into the back carefully still holding you close to his body.

“I-I can’t tell, I don’t know why I’m so sorry”she replied guiltily, throwing the keys in the ignition.

A/N:there will be a part 3 dont worry❤️

Taglist: @stilessarcasmqueen @stiles24ever @xceafh

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mamichigo · 5 years

Text

Fic: new and old things (1.7k)

Pairing: Tanjirou/Inosuke

Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Ten Years Later

Summary: They are no longer children, they haven't been for a long time. With spring comes a fresh beginning, the start of something new. Tanjirou couldn't stop the wave of nostalgia.

A/N: This was for @yue-luna-brilante’s request: “ "inotan- in nezuko’s wedding (she’s human again) - they act like an old married couple" (which was followed loosely). It’s a bit redundant to post it here now, but oh well.

A strong gust of wind has Tanjirou staggering on his feet, and he had to clutch the circular tray in his hands before the carefully balanced cups of tea tumbled to a tragic death. After a second, he was able to walk again, though his steps were careful on the diagonal line of the hill. The wind still blew with great fury, but Tanjirou was ready for it this time, and treaded on without too much trouble.

He could see the branches of the cherry blossom tree peeking down at him, always watchful; reaching the top of the hill, however, brought him face to face with the dancing pink petals, carried over by the wind. One almost flew straight into his eye, but Tanjirou was lucky enough to successfully step out of its direct trajectory.

It was a beautiful day, he had to admit—though he could do without the wind—, as the sky was perfectly clear, the few passing clouds being small, fluffy ones hurrying along. There were flowers blooming everywhere, and their fragrant scent reached Tanjirou's nose at every turn he made. He thought he could smell lavender in the distance, but he wasn't sure (Tanjirou never got the hang of differentiating between flowers).

It wasn't the scenery that caught his attention, however, but the sleeping body of a man sprawled gracelessly on the grass. His hair was a mess of long locks all around him, and his chest rose and fell with the serenity of someone deep in their dreams.

Tanjirou set the tray down, then lowered himself to crouch next to the man, observing the shift of the faded scars across his chest.

"You're going to catch a cold if you don't cover yourself, Inosuke," Tanjirou chided to his sleeping partner. "Not that you ever listen to me when I say that."

When his voice didn't succeed in alerting Inosuke to his presence, Tanjirou proceeded to poke his cheek once, then again, and just one more time for good measure. Inosuke grumbled and, instead of opening his eyes, rolled to the side—away from Tanjirou's fingers.

"Don't think you'll escape from me that easily. You made a grave mistake, you know," Tanjirou said as he bent down until his lips were close to Inosuke's left ear.

Now within the perfect range, Tanjirou proceeded to blow harshly into the ear, causing Inosuke to jump back and scramble to sit up at the same time, looking like a graceless chicken attempting to escape.

Tanjirou laughed as Inosuke blinked at him in confusion.

"Sleeping outside again, I see," Tanjirou commented innocently.

"What's the problem with that? The house is too hot," Inosuke replied, rubbing at his ear with some aggravation.

Tanjirou shuffled closer to pluck a twig out of Inosuke's hair, and a flower petal fell along with it. There were still blades of grass and leaves in it as well, and Tanjirou raised his eyebrows at it meaningfully.

"You could at least bring a blanket, or put on a shirt. I wouldn't be surprised if you got sick in this wind."

Inosuke clicked his tongue. "I don't need it, I don't get sick anyways."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't!"

Tanjirou stared at him for a long moment. "Then next time I'll leave you to puke all over yourself without any assistance, as you're obviously not sick."

Another long pause.

Inosuke silently extended his hand, and Tanjirou didn't hesitate to take off his own haori and hand it to him, smiling all too smugly. Inosuke didn't bother putting his arms through the holes, but at least he had it wrapped around his shoulders.

"There, happy? I'm going back to sleep," Inosuke grumbled and fell back on his side, not even waiting for a reply.

"Ah, wait, wait, I brought us some tea!" Tanjirou nudged the tray a bit closer. "Don't you want some?"

Inosuke took a glance at it over his shoulder and promptly lost interest, closing his eyes. "Nah." He paused, then perked up once more. "Did you bring honey?"

As a matter of fact, he did; Inosuke had taken the habit of filling one third of his tea with honey before drinking any of it, to the concern of Tanjirou and the disgust of literally every single one of their friends.

"I did. So, will you have some?"

Inosuke hummed, appearing to think it over. Then, before Tanjirou could do anything about it, he quickly snatched the honey bottle and the dipper, coating the latter in a generous amount of honey to then shove it directly into his mouth. Tanjirou cringed at the sight.

"Are you trying to get yourself to puke?" Tanjirou asked.

"No, I'm eating, can't you see?" Inosuke waved to dipper in his face to make his point. "You're being naggy today, it's annoying."

"Naggy?! I'm trying to look out for you!"

"Nagging old man."

"I'm the same age as you!"

They stared down at each other, but Inosuke was the one to look away first: not because he was backing down, but because he most likely got bored. He even had the audacity to drop his head on his arms and shuffle around like he was getting ready to fall back asleep.

Tanjirou opened his mouth to complain, but let it go with a sigh, instead leaning his back on Inosuke's body and looking up at the sky. Since Inosuke didn't stir, he assumed he actually went through with his desire to take a nap.

Tanjirou retrieved his own teacup and cradled it into his hands, blowing the steam away and taking a hearty sip. Alone with his thoughts, he found himself sighing again before taking another sip.

"Are you gonna tell me what's bugging you or what?" Inosuke suddenly asked, voice low and laced with exasperation.

"Oh, uhm. Is it that obvious?"

"No shit it is."

Tanjirou bent his leg up at the knee to rest his elbow on top and lean his cheek into it, head tilted to the side so he could see just the edge of Inosuke's profile.

"You do know me really well, Inosuke. How couldn't you, it's been a long time since we've met each other, after all."

Inosuke hummed a low "uh huh", which might seem rude to anyone else, but Tanjirou knew well it was an invitation to keep going.

"We were pretty young, weren't we? You, me, and Nezuko and Zenitsu, not to mention everyone else like Genya and Kanao." Tanjirou scratched at his cheek at the same time Inosuke let out a jaw cracking yawn.

"When we were even younger, and Nezuko was just a tiny child, she would get scared by the shadows of the trees outside, or the noise of them shaking in the wind. With dad sick, she didn't want to bother him, or mom for that measure." Tanjirou rotated his teacup, watching the ripples appearing on the surface of the liquid. "So she'd come to me instead, and I'd hold her hand and tell her a story, or sing her a lullaby. Her hand was so was small, I could hold all of it in my palm."

Tanjirou fell back, spine curved around Inosuke's body, his teacup raised high above his head. A stray flower petal made its way into it.

"Sometimes I realize I still think her hand is that small."

Inosuke raised himself up to his elbow, twisting to the side in what looked like a painful position to get at look Tanjirou. His eyebrows were raised, almost comically so.

"You really are the sentimental type," Inosuke pointed out. "Are you freaking out about the wedding again?"

"I'm not freaking out!" Tanjirou protested, sitting up to level a glare at Inosuke. "Just because I'm thinking about it doesn't mean I'm freaking out. It's just that Nezuko is so happy and it's all she talks about, so it gets me thinking about… Stuff."

Inosuke snorted. "You're trying not to cry about it, aren't you?"

Tanjirou vehemently slammed his teacup back on the tray. "I'm not! I'm not crying about it!" He huffed and crossed his arms. "Listen, just because Nezuko will look the most beautiful she's ever looked in her wedding attire, and her smile will be all big and bright, and she's getting the happiness she deserves after suffering through being a demon, and… And…"

Tanjirou paused. His voice was wobbling. "Inosuke?"

"What?"

"I'm crying about it."

Inosuke shot up, murmuring curses under his breath, frantically reaching for whatever he could find of Tanjirou first (which turned out to be his right pants leg) to tug him closer. Inosuke rubbed his palms against Tanjirou's cheek, getting rid of each tear that fell from his eyes.

"She's all grown up now…"

"Yup."

"And she found someone to love her like she deserves."

"Uh huh."

"She really is gonna be the prettiest, you know?"

"Sure."

They continued to go back and forth like this for a few minutes until Tanjirou had gotten the tears out of system. He was grateful for Inosuke's attempt to help, though his cheeks were starting to get red from all the rubbing.

Tanjirou cheese on his bottom lip. "Mom would be so proud of her. I… I wish she was here to see it," he confessed, something he rarely let himself say out loud in fear that the sadness might consume him whole.

When he felt like he would cry fresh tears, Inosuke roughly pulled on both his cheeks, stretching it far enough that Tanjirou couldn't even speak through it.

"She's already proud, dumbass. Just like my mom," Tanjirou gasped at that, but Inosuke didn't relent. "They're watching over us, everyone is. You told me that, didn't you? Don't be a wimp about it now."

Tanjirou nodded as much as he could when Inosuke was still pulling on his cheeks; he had, in fact, said that to Inosuke many years ago, murmured against the curve of his shoulder. That night, Tanjirou had given one of his earrings to Inosuke, who never took it off since then. He smiled at the memory, and that was what made Inosuke let go. Now free, Tanjirou pressed their foreheads together, then their noses, gently nuzzling against the other.

"Sorry for the sudden freak out," Tanjirou whispered.

"Hah! Called it, you were totally freaking out! Just like I said."

Tanjirou hit him lightly on the chest. "Shut up," he ordered, but the laughter in it wasn't in any way persuasive.

#kamado tanjirou #hashibira inosuke #inotan #kny #my writing

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the-red-angel · 4 years

Text

Death, comes for us...

The sound of thunder rolls across the sky, as the pitter patter of rain falls upon the roof of the house. Vincent Dranoth a man known by many, A man loved by all, and hated by some lies upon his back, the jade green eyes gazing upon the ceiling...unmoving. Drip...drip...drip...a single sound that filled his ear, a leak drip...drip...drip...Vincent sighs gently, only one thought rings out through his abnormally quiet mind, "Yet another issue I have to fix...another leak in this world I will repair...". He closes his eyes attempting to rest, but with the silence in his mind would be there and only one thing filled it. Drip...drip...drip...the water kept falling, as another crack of thunder reverberated in the room. The lightning lighting the room in a flash before fading to darkness once more, Drip...drip...drip...the sound was deafening The human turned his body away from the noise to find something to distract him from the sound.

Vincent's eyes fall upon a familiar face, Livian...Dranorth and for those who knew what she truly was...Livigosa Dranorth. Her face pale and beautiful, her eyes closed and chest slowly rising and falling, she was at rest, quiet, content, and happy...a smile tugs at her lips even in her sleep. A goddess among mortals, a creature of unparalleled power and pride, his wife, his love, his mate, and his drake. The women Vincent would give everything for, there was nothing in this world that he would not give....nothing. Livian was his; and he was her forever more. Never apart in life, never apart in death...together forever, his mind settled once more....quiet over taking his thoughts again. Drip...drip...drip the liquid kept dripping from the tiny crack in the room, yet another deafening crack of thunder as the lightning kept the room a lit, before shadows overtook the bedroom.

Vincent's body shifted once more laying on his back, the jade eyes meeting the ceiling once more the water ever present, the dripping drowning out the rain across the roof, his eyes blinking, the human had been restless unable to sleep, something had been plaguing his silent mind. A dream that kept him awake something that his mind could not fathom, something that was ever present in it, a thing that he could not put into his words. The Rogue moved a hand across his body and stealthily removed the covers that layed across his body. He moved his legs first carefully placing the feet upon the wooden floor his body soon to follow as he was now sitting at the edge on his bed, muscular body hunched over as Vincent's elbows were on the top of his knees, hands running across his face. His mind still silent as the rain as not stopped, and with it...Drip...drip...drip...

Vincent was sitting trying to reach a conclusion of why his mind was still so silent as if a thought had never have manifested its self within him, he had always had something there to keep him company, the second personality one who was created through sheer trauma. Lanathor, the cold killer, the assassin without emotion, despite not agreeing with his methods Vincent has always sought council within his own mind, in times of hardship the comfort that the stronger him would be in his mind to aid him. It was gone, silence remained as once more, drip...drip...drip the noise of the water filled his ears. The human rose to his feet his body his nude body striding silently across the room, not a sound was heard, with the rain crashing against the roof the foot steps being drowned out.

Vincent reached the desk that was across his room, the human gripped a candle and with a wave of his hand it was alight, a simple cantrip he did this for three more sticks of wax the Witt being set a blaze with a subtle flame just enough to a light the surrounding area with a orange glow. The human moved papers around engineering schematics, and pieces of art that he has done in the past, he moved in front of him a blank sheet of paper, his hands move to grip a utensil for writing and dipped it into the ink. The jade eyes staring at the paper Vincent wanted to attempt to put his dream into words...but the silence still there, the memory of it a haze, unable to remember or draw upon the words to describe it. Drip...drip...drip, the liquid came almost as if it was heavier, thicker, Vincent halted for a moment and looked behind him as if he was intently listening to the deafening liquid that plagued his ears, before he shook his head bringing the eyes upon the paper once more.

Vincent placed the ink covered pen and began to write, drawing on anything that he remembers, anything that comes to mind. After what he thought was a hour or two of sheer writing, drawing, and sketching the Jade eyes refocus on the paper and it was blank, the pen still on the paper where he placed it, but no progress was made. Drip...drip...drip, the sound came more viscous in nature, the rogue brushed it off as the wood it was falling upon became damp and thus muddled the sound. The rogue stared at the paper once more, and with his mind silent he closed his eyes and focused upon the liquid the was dripping...the one sound that had claimed his ears over the others, it was then that once he accepted the sound in his mind did the dreams return....

Vincent slowly opened his eyes the landscape in-front of him changed, no longer was the mortal in his room with the love of his life and his child they bore. Vincent was in a desolate realm, the sky dark with these thick black smog like clouds blotting any light to reach the floor, his eyes trail down to the masses of boulders and rocks, no real architecture could be seen only blacken stone of jagged rocks leading him in one direction, The rogue was no longer nude Vincent was covered in thick woolen robes that covered his form head to toe, but no urge was made to remove them, he was comforted in knowing he was not bare in this uncharted land.

With the sound of foot falls on stone the human moved his way across the land Jade eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of life, architecture or otherwise. The mortal was walking for what seemed like miles, the path he chosen to walk upon twisting and turning, raising and falling, it wasn't until three hours of walking with a steady pace did the human spot anything different. Tombstones, one after the other they came into view, his eyes scanned them reading the name that was upon them, non the human recognized but there was many, if he were to guess, thousands upon thousands of them. All in different shapes and sizes each with a different first name, and some with sharing last names families perhaps, he was unsure.

Still did Vincent tread the new tombstone ridden path, his pace remained steady as he glided across the blacked ground the path ended with a hill and a singular tombstone atop the cliff. Vincent's eyes focused upon it, as it seems the path way had lead him here, the end of this forsaken land with no signs of life, upon reaching the hill the human approached the large grave marker and started to inspect it, the words were unclear, his Jade eyes unable to acquire a focus upon the words. The Rogue brought his right hand up and rub his eyes his voice muttering under his breath "No, I am so close...come on..", and attempted to scan the marker once more his left hand reached out to the smooth stone, fingers gliding across the words engraved in the stone as his eyes began to understand the words upon the stone.

Vincent began to read the name out loud, he knows not why, but he did so anyway a deep and smooth voice rang out in the silent air "Cedric", He turned his head as he knew this name, but many are named Cedric nothing more then a coincidence he continued to read the last name, his eyes widen as he scans the surname. His voice still with the deep and smooth tone "Dranorth.....Cedric Dranorth, my father...why is my fathers grave here...". Vincent's heart begins to pound in his chest as he turns around and scan the other graves that are below him the thousands and thousands of tombstones that blanketed the horizon as far as his eyes can see, the realization hits the human harder then anything has hit him before, these are all that he has killed in cold blood.

As soon as Vincent was able to make that connection his body wracked with pain, his eyes shot open as the jade iris were shooting back and forth scanning for what was causing this pain. He fell to his knees breath heavy as his skin felt as it was on fire, both of his hands moved to remove the robes upon his body trying to free the fire that was raging over his skin, the robs were tossed aside and all that remained was the nude form of Vincent. The human gazed upon his skin, as torment racked his mind once more, the wild eyes of the man gazed upon his skin as a crimson mist was pouring from every scar upon his body as if the human was being drained of his essence, his hands moved in fear as he tried to move but instead was caught upon something the ringing of metal groaned against his resistance. The Jade eyes frantically searching to what is causing this as metal cuffs were around his wrist and ankles holding the human taught, unable to move.

Another flash of crimson mist seeps from his scars, causing the human to cry out in agony and suffering. Vincent rapidly moves his head around to the surrounding the tombstones still there, the innocents he has murdered plaguing his thoughts and emotion, he blinked and they were all gone, no longer was Vincent in a desolate wasteland of tombstones, his eyes search the room but all he could see was blackness the chains still holding the human down, the scars a faint glow of red still present upon them, as the crimson mist was extracted once more and another cry of agony was heard the light of his essence being drawn out shows a sculpted room of the same blacken stone he was walking on, formed and crafted.

With heaving of his breath Vincent fought against the chains his muscles straining, as yet one more of his life essence was drained from the Human this time words came with his cry, his voice full of pain and anguish "Livian!", the one person on his mind, the one person who has kept him going in his life, the little light in his heart. He was panting as he pushed against the chains once more "Livigosa! my love....wait for me...", the human screamed out, as the skin glowed red as yet another agony inflicting torture was being charged up before the sound of thunder boomed, Vincent's eyes shot open, his face resting against the desk with only one sound that stood out beyond the rest. Drip...drip...drip...the water was once again falling from the ceiling.

Not long after Vincent opened his eyes another sound filled his ears, one of comfort. Alysa his daughter started to cry, instinctively Vincent rose to his feet, stumbling only slightly as he gazed down and a very, faint red glow was emanating from the scars, before fading away, the Jade eyes blinking as a coldness shot through his body, causing it to shudder. Vincent shook his head shaking the feeling off and heading over to Alysa, his eyes scan his child making sure she was okay and it seems she was started awake from the cracking of thunder. Vincent and Livian a pair of unlikely beings brought together to create a miracle that was named, Alysa. She was crying, the booming thunder must have awoken her, Vincent speaks in a low voice as to not wake Livian from her beautiful slumber "Shh shh, Alysa my ayana, your father is here worry not my child for I will watch over you eternally...".

A smile was upon Vincent's face as he cares for his child, the sound of rain and thunder being drowed out, slowly but surely Alysa was calmed and gently rocked back to sleep her face a smile upon it as she was sent back into a restful slumber. Drip...drip...drip...the sound echoed out, The human looked up towards where the sound was the coming from the droping of water from the ceiling.moving across the room Vincent grabbed a bucket and made his way to the leak and stopped just before it, placing the bucket under it, almost immediately was the noise snuffed out, his jade eyes gaze upon the leak, and what he saw in the...dream that he witnessed, the pain felt so real, the agony and anguish...the repentance for the souls he murder in cold blood, the repentance he was feeling for killing his own father. he moves a hand out and lets the water fall upon his hand drip...drip...drip, he pulled it back and gazes upon it, running his thumb over the liquid. Another crack of thunder was heard as yet another flash of light filled the room, Vincent's Jade eyes flickers to a vibrant sapphire as the water that was in his hand becomes viscous and crimson, smearing the blood across the skin. His mind which was empty that not even Lanathor was present begins to fill with this ever present dread, as the emotionless voice of his other personality rings out clear as any other day "Death...comes for us".

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annes-andromeda · 4 years

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GOT Virtues AU: Not Enough to Understand

N/: So, I’ve finally written a chapter for Tyrion. I’m mostly gonna go by his arc in ADWD, but take out things like Young Griff and Jon Connington. As much as I believe those characters to be very vital to the books, this AU goes mostly by showverse with hints of the books and my own additions. However, some characters from ASOIAF will be incorporated here, just maybe not the same as the books. Tyrion has never really been my favorite character, but he’s definitely an interesting one. It sucks that the show turned him into a Dany cultist that licked her boots and kissed her ass. So, hopefully I’m writing Tyrion and Varys correctly. Also, please don’t think that I’m trying to villainize Tyrion (even if that may be the route GRRM is taking. But I’m not him sooo...), I’m just trying to show that he’s currently in a dark state of mind.

Somehow for Tyrion, the soils of Essos were more frustrating than the pile of shit that was the Seven Kingdoms. Ever since he strangled his lover with his bare hands and shot his father with a crossbow, somehow he’s never been the same. And yet somehow, the minute his brother opened his mouth and spoke of his first wife, of Tysha... somehow that hurt more than any slurs Tywin Lannister could ever reprise.

I trusted him, Tyrion thought hatefully. My big brother who was my protector, was no more than a liar.

The walls of Pentos where Varys had sneaked him away were beautiful no less. A perfect grave for a drunken lion. To drink himself to death seemed far sweeter than returning to Westeros where Cersei would surely want his head. But the Spider gave him another alternative.

“You have a choice, my friend” Varys had said, “You can stay here at Ilyrio’s palace and drink yourself to death, or you can ride with me to Meereen, meet Daenerys Targaryen, and decide if the world is worth fighting for”

The Dragon Queen. Tyrion had heard stories of her. How she liberated the city of Meereen and its slaves, ending the practice for good. But he had heard other stories as well. How she crucified the masters and burned men alive with her dragons. Common folk told of the Queen Across the Sea, a woman who walked with fire and left nothing but ruin wherever she trailed.

Tyrion didn’t know what to believe. So many tales, so many rumors. The people of Kings Landing spread whatever words they spoke to entertain themselves from the early graves that awaited some of them. Such as naming Tyrion the Demon Monkey. Or Sansa the Traitors Daughter. He hoped she was safe. Wherever his lady wife had gone to escape her fate. And to escape him.

But the one he thought of most was his oldest companion: Cira. His dear lioness that mewled sadly as she was taken away from his cell the day of his trial. She had been left in the Red Keep, wandering alone. Tyrion no longer seemed to care of hope, but he prayed to all the Gods that she was safe. That neither Cersei or anyone else had gotten hold of her. If he were to ever find out of her death or much worse... may the Gods help them.

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Once leaving Pentos, Tyrion and Varys began their journey to the so called free city of Meereen. Before doing so, they had to go through the streets of Volantis, as Varys stated that the road to Meereen was in Volantis. Bored of the confinement their carriage brought, Tyrion decided to take a walk. If anyone were to ask his name, he’d be no more than Hugor Hill, a bastard of the Westerlands who wished to see the known world alongside his companion Rugen, a former servant of the Red Keep. Nothing more, nothing less.

The Long Bridge was filled with many people. Builders, merchants, and many, many whores. All were marked by their masters, their cheek defining who they were.

“Strange that the Mother of Dragons hasn’t stepped foot in this city, as many have claimed she is a liberator” Tyrion acknowledged

“Meereen has had its run of slavery since the beginning of its construction” Varys began “If Daenerys were to leave the city as it is, the masters would simply take it back, sending the slaves into their chains once again”

“Hasn’t Astapor already done the same?” The dwarf noted “From what my ears have heard, the city is in ruin while children are sold like cattle and slavery runs rampant. I would’ve been certain the dragon queen would ensure the freedom of the people she liberates. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The Spider simply remained silent, and Tyrion gave a look as if he’d won a great victory. As they walked the pavement, they heard the booming voice of a woman who spoke to the slaves almost as if she had cast a spell upon them. A red priestess of R’hllor, whose cheek was branded with the mark of a former whore, preached her teachings to the lowly slaves of Volantis.

“Lord, cast your light upon us” she spoke in Valyrian, as the crowd followed “For the night is dark and full of terrors”

Tyrion didn’t hear what Varys had said to him, as he’d moved closer to see and hear the Priestess’s words “I was once as you are now” she said “Bought and sold. Scourged and branded” She pointed to the mark on her cheek, the mark of a slave. A former slave now.

“The only red priest we had in King’s Landing was Thoros of Myr. This one’s much better looking...” Tyrion boasted. He had heard that Stannis’s red priestess was beautiful, with blood red hair and eyes that glowed like the ruby around her neck. Granted, he’d seen and heard of many beautiful women in his days: the Mother of Dragons was said to have flowing silver hair and eyes of amethyst, whilst he remembered Shae’s curves and her full lips that kissed him once. But yet, they were not the most beautiful of women. For Tyrion gave that achievement to a maid with sunset in her hair and whose gaze held the waters.

“The Lord of Light hears your voice. He hears the king as he hears the slave; he hears the Stone Men in their misery...” The red priestess continued

Tyrion could only scoff “Stone Men. Good luck stopping this spread of grayscale with prayer. You’d have better luck dancing away the plague” Varys shushed him before he could say anything else.

“He has sent you a savior!” The red priestess proclaimed “From the fire she was reborn to remake the world! The Dragon Queen!”

Tyrion looked over to Varys, putting on a false smile “We’re going to meet the savior! You should have told me. Who doesn’t want to meet the savior?” His voice reeked of sarcasm, and the Spider was not impressed by it. As he spoke, he could feel eyes looking directly at him, shooting daggers from their post. The red priestess had turned to gaze at Tyrion, and the dwarf hid his face from her.

“Let’s go” He warned, as he and Varys left the gathering. The atmosphere had turned casual once again, with only the chatter of the slaves being heard. Tyrion turned to look up at Varys “Tell me, Varys” he began “Do you believe in the prophecy of The Prince That Was Promised?”

Varys cocked an eyebrow at him “It’s a legend derived from the red priests of R’hllor, of how a great hero shall be born of salt and smoke to save the world from a terrible threat. Mere superstition created by fanatics who haven’t a mind of their own”

“And I suppose these ‘fanatics’, as you call them, believe that Daenerys Targaryen is this prophesied savior, yes?” He saw Varys nod his head, but then cock it back once he spoke again “Seems rather curious, does it not? I thought Stannis was this great hero the Lord of Light had gifted upon us. In the words of the priests, I mean”

“If every fanatic claimed that every person in the world were this great prince, then the whole world would be engulfed in flames of proclaimed freedom” Varys stated “Who is to trust the words of druid priests that worship a god who only ever wishes upon the sacrifices of his kin?”

“Apparently the kneelers gladly hold their faith in the hands of merciless gods and these ‘druid priests’” Tyrion insisted, his mind wandering to the different tales that lied across the Narrow Sea “It just seems rather interesting. I myself have read of the legends of Westeros so many times that they’ve grown rather boring and repetitive. Aegon the Conqueror, Bran the Builder, even my own house’s ancestor, Lann the Clever; their stories have be so overheard that even their graves must hear them”

Varys let out a chuckle of mockery and agreement. His own experience with sorcery and religious views have left him skeptical of such practices, along with the hatred of all that used magic. Tyrion wondered if the former Master of Whisperers ever despised the great houses due to their holding of the mysterious Virtues, whose power traced back to even the ages of the Children.

As the two walked through the streets of Volantis, Tyrion’s mind wandered to a brothel where Varys and him could not be noticed by any wandering eyes. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He could only think of his wife. Of Tysha. Somehow, Tyrion’s first thought wasn’t Shae, as she was a true whore compared to his first wife. A brothel wouldn’t ease his pain, no matter how many women he brought upon his bed.

Perhaps a mere book with a glass of wine will calm my suffering, Tyrion thought. Question was, where was he going to find a library in the mists of such a large city? The Temple of the Lord of Light could hold some scrolls for him to read through, but they’d mostly be filled with the teachings of the priests. And as if Varys would ever agree to going to such a place.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s an inn in these parts, would you?” Tyrion asked, looking up to Varys

The man raised his eyebrows “I figured you’d rather be more interested in the confinements of a brothel?”

“No” Tyrion said abruptly “After everything that has happened, I’ve made the conscious decision to stay out of the whore house for a time”

“Well then, we can continue down this trail to a nearby atheneum where we’ll be able to blend in with the small folk”

“Perhaps I can indulge myself in some wine there”

“I thought you said you no longer wanted to take part in fornication. ‘For a time’, as you said”

“I never said I’d give up drinking”

Once reaching the atheneum Varys had mentioned, Tyrion could hardly believe his eyes. He had heard that the library of the Citadel were home to many knowledge and tales, so he didn’t expect much from the atheneum in Volantis, which only held two stories yet books upon thousands of shelves.

Entering the establishment, Tyrion and Varys took their seats all the way in the back where no one would disturb them. The only people that walked trough there were the workers sorting the books into shelves or customers looking for a more interesting read. Either way, no one would ask them of their reasons to coming into the place, as they did not speak the common tongue.

Tyrion flipped through the pages of a dusty old book that read ‘The Blood Betrayal: Fall of the Great Empire’ in High Valyrian. He didn’t know much of the language, but enough to understand what some of the sentences said.

He turned to Varys, who scoured through the rippling parchments and scrolls that smelled like old leather “It says here that according to the people of Yi Ti, the Blood Emperor slewed his older sister, the Amethyst Empress, and his rule ushered in the Long Night. Apparently he slept with a tiger woman, feasted upon human flesh, and enslaved his people. And I thought the myths of Westeros were too theatrical”

“The YiTish also speak of the Maiden-Made-Of-Light, who turned her back upon the world whilst her husband, the Lion of Night, punished the wickedness of men” Varys added. Tyrion wasn’t really surprised of his response, as the man had grown up in Essos himself “The Essosi paint their gods in the forms of animals and great beasts, as they’ve never seen the deities with their own eyes. Perhaps their gods forms gives them some sort of pride in their religion”

Tyrion simply shrugged, and before he could come up with a witty remark, he noticed a librarian sorting some used books that were left by previous visitors. He raised his hand to get the attention of the man. Thankfully he noticed him or else he’d have to resort to introducing himself In Valyrian, which was not his strong suit.

Getting the attention of Varys so as to translate for him, Tyrion began “Hello” he said, as his companion repeated the greeting in the local tongue “I was wondering, if you could tell me what this creature is?” He pointed down to the page he’d stopped on, which held an illustration of a winged creature. Its wings looked as if they were burning, and it was emerging from a pit of flames.

“I can speak some of common tongue, if you’d wish” the librarian said

Tyrion raised his eyebrows and sighed “Well... that’s a relief. I don’t think my companion here would’ve been able to handle doing all of the work for me” Though he didn’t clearly see it, he could tell that Varys was rolling his eyes and quietly scoffing.

The librarian carefully took the book from Tyrion’s hands, almost as if he grabbed it forcefully, the whole thing would fall apart. He examined the drawing, and his face crinkled “Their presence lost to history, I’m afraid. But people of Essos spoke of them as ‘The Devils Daughters’”

“How come?” Tyrion asked

“Essosi believe that daughters were born in home of evil spirits” The man said, his voice frail and his common language quite broken, but still understandable “They thrived in times of dragons, some even believe that two were foes who battled for fires hearth”

Varys leaned towards Tyrion “Many strayed far from the Fourteen Flames because it is believed that The Devils Daughters made their homes within the pits of the volcanoes. It was also thought that the creatures cursed the pits if their common enemy were to ever return”

As much as Tyrion wished to speak on more vital matters, such as whether this Dragon Queen truly was worth his troubles, he couldn’t help but be intrigued “Where did the daughters come from?” He asked the librarian

The old man sat down and fidgeted in his place to get comfortable “The oldest legend is that seamstress from Yi Ti sewed gold string for Opal Emperor in days of the Great Empire. According to scrolls and writing, the monarch adorned silks with golden string, and payed seamstress for more. So seamstress worked days on needle, so much so that the string shined in sunlight and her talent spoken of across all Yi Ti ”

“Sounds a bit exaggerated” Tyrion muttered to himself

“However, Opal Emperor wanted more than gold. He was so impressed of seamstress’s work that he gave her the challenge of creating embroidery and turning it into jewels”

Varys looked as if he didn’t want to listen to the mans story. Tyrion could only guess that it was either he had heard it a thousand times or of the great distances himself kept from religious practices and fables.

“Now, seamstress argued that what the Emperor proposed was impossible, but Opal Emperor granted her a seat in his court if she were to complete his task. So, she stayed in her shop for days, and the days turned into weeks. Finally, the seamstress stepped into Emperors palace, where she presented embroidery to him and his council. Seamstress had created a bird, whose wings shined with not golden, but silver string and encrusted with what many believed to be sundrops and starlight. The Opal Emperor, impressed he was. Yet, he asked more of seamstress. He ordered her to take embroidery on the fourteenth day of her time within the palace and burn it in a pyre of all the spices her expenses could buy. On the day of burning, seamstress took embroidery upon fire and...”

He paused for a moment, his face showing an expression of wonderment and perhaps, even pure bliss. The old man looked to the ceiling as if he’d been envisioning the story while he spoke.

“And?” Varys cut the silence, stopping Tyrion from shaking the man out of his delusion.

“When the seamstress placed her creation upon pyre, the embroidery burst into flames, leaving nothing but ashes and cinders. But then, without tamper, a great miracle happened. Embroidery of creature, had become real. Embroidery, became Devils Daughter. No larger than her teat, the baby was frail, yet soon would be powerful. Upon third setting of sun and second rising of moon, Daughter had disappeared from seamstress’s shop. Never seen again, until Old Valyria found dragon”

The man got up from his seat, continuing with his previous action of sorting books upon shelves. Varys had little to no reaction, clearly thinking of the fable as nothing more than that.

Tyrion furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding why the man had decided to end the story so abruptly, with hardly any payoff “You wouldn’t happen to know the creatures diets, by any chance?” He joked “Whether they ate, just out of curiosity: lions? Preferably lionesses, on my end”

The image of his sister being devoured by this creature, every inch of her destroyed by its jaws as she joins their father in a place where their every sin haunts them, was something Tyrion gladly wished to see.

“I’m afraid not, good sir” The librarian answered, his voice hinting at slight annoyance. Almost as if he knew what Tyrion was truly asking “Lions we’re not perceived as good by Yi Ti because of Lion of Night. They saw beasts as omens of misfortune, and even death”

“Well” Tyrion exasperated “That’s rather disappointing” His eyed widened in delight when he saw that Varys had called for a serving girl to bring them two glasses along with some red wine. Pouring the drink into his glass, Tyrion took a sip, savoring the rich, sweet taste it produced inside his mouth.

Varys joined him in the pleasurable drink, taking a long sip from his cup “With the Daughters gone, the dragons are the rulers of fire. However, it seems that not even the flames wished to stay in their grasp. The Doom definitely is an example of that”

Tyrion looked at him in somber silence “You truly believe that the Mother of Dragons is the one to bring upon a new age of Westeros?” He asked

“Are the freed slaves not enough proof for you?”

“Neither of us were there when she liberated those cities, so how can you expect me to just join her cause and serve her blindly instead of believing that she chose to break chains for another reason?” Tyrion took another drink of his wine “From what’s been heard about Meereen, she nailed men to wooden posts where they roasted about the heated sun. I distinctly remember someone else doing something similar with the corpses of their enemies. And that someone just happened to be my father. Tell me, does House Reyne not ring any bells to you?”

“All leaders must inspire a level of fear upon their enemies. If not, it’ll make them appear weak. Too much kindness does not bode well in a world as cruel as this one” Varys circled his glass, making his wine move about the cup.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at him “Come now, my friend, we both know you’re not that naive. What monarch who has inflicted pain to everything they touch has had their following last?”

“Would you rather have stayed in Pentos to drink yourself away?” Varys raised his voice “Would you have liked it if I’d denied your brothers request to set you free?”

“Don’t talk about Jaime” Tyrion sneered, his eyes darkening. Despite his outburst, Varys was not fazed.

“You may not like it, my friend,” Varys began “But the truth is that your brother is the reason you’re still living. Even after he had lied to you, think of why he did it. We both know you cannot truly spite him. Not after everything you’ve been through. And certainly not after all the people who are much more deserving of your hatred”

Tyrion didn’t speak. I want to hate Jaime, he thought. I have to hate him

“What’s the point of love and trust if the people closest to you just end up hurting you?” He got up from his seat to pour more wine, until the cup was filled to the brim “Love is pointless. It’s a disease that spreads more pain that any sword or poison in the known world. And to trust is to be willfully blind to the truth, all while everyone breaks a chunk off of you until your left with only the remaining pieces of your heart. I’ve loved and trusted for too long, and I’ve lost too much of my heart already. I’ll not loose my mind to foolishness such as love nor trust any longer”

Varys could only stare emotionless at him, then averted his gaze to his cup “So what will you do know? Replace love and trust with hate and deceit?”

“I’d settle for knowledge and revenge” Tyrion said simply “After all, it has a better ring to it”

“The Dragon Queen will not accept those who will hatch plots and schemes under her nose” Varys warned “Do you truly think that what you’re doing is wise?”

Tyrion turned to him, his stance wobbly due to the increase of alcohol consumption “Tell me Varys: you said that Daenerys Targaryen has three dragons under her control, yes?”

“Those are what my little birds and I report” His companion replied

“Dragons have scorn for their enemies. Raw and untamed scorn. The largest of them had teeth the size of swords. While a lion may not control the skies, it is the king of all beasts, who commands respect and fear upon its subjects. After all, ‘In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws’. Imagine Cersei’s terror when there comes a dragon and lion knocking at her door”

“Are you implying that your allegiance to the Dragon Queen is purely to spite your sister?” Varys asked

I never meant to imply it, is what Tyrion wished to say, but instead, his mind changed to another response “If that’s what you wish to think, go right ahead”

He put down his wine glass, which nearly tipped over and spilled “Now then” Tyrion began “I believe we should find an inn to stay. All this drinking has left my head reeling and my body tipsy” Varys seemed to want to argue, but he pursed his lips tightly that they seemed to disappear.

He didn’t even speak a word when Tyrion grabbed the book he was reading (among others) and sneak them into his tunic for future use.

On the road to the inn, Tyrion spoke more about the Devils Daughters, and if they were real, he wondered what horrors he’d inflict on his Cersei and even his father if he were still alive. He could see that Varys was growing mildly concerned, but Tyrion assumed that he had heard worse.

What neither could have predicted, was that the halfman would be stolen away as a gift for the Dragon Queen herself.

#game of thrones #virtues au #my writing #tyrion lannister #varys the spider #anti daenerys #i mean #some might take it that way #but im just pointing out things shes legit done #so really its just criticism...

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