#all of the sentries who gave their lives to try and find the girl to break the curse are just ghosts with no names and no voices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whimperwoods · 3 years

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Not sure if this is a new series or just a thing I had to get out of my head? Pretty sure there will be at least 2 parts though. Fantasy/D&D setting. Orc caretaker. Half-elf whumpee. Human whumpers, but not for long.

tw: slavery/captivity, tw: fantasy racism (implied), tw: manhandling, tw: muzzles, tw: past abuse, tw: past rape implied (vaguely)

Chief Gozukk’s orc tribe doesn’t like humans gallivanting through their land, but one group offers a deal he can’t turn down . . . once she looks him in the eye.

*****

Chief Gozukk narrowed his eyes at the jostling, sunburned humans in the caravan whose leader was walking up to him, all too-wide smile and white teeth under a dusty wide-brimmed hat. Once he was about 6 feet away, the man whipped the hat off and bowed, sweaty hair falling in his face so that he had to flip it out of the way when he straightened up again, before he could replace his hat.

“Speak,” Gozukk ordered in Common, trying to keep his voice rough and authoritative. He hated dealing with humans. They were unpredictable, too useful sometimes to avoid outright the rest of the time. It was best to look stern and in charge.

“I apologize, Chief. We got some bad intel, said nobody was here. I’m sure you understand. We just want passage through your lands, and we’re happy to give you a cut of our profits on the way back through for the pleasure. We’re expecting a good trip. How’s 5% sound for a road tax?”

He heard Azzor breathe out through his nose from his position behind Gozukk’s chair, not loud enough for the human to hear, but loud enough to communicate his skepticism perfectly well. Gozukk twitched his hand toward the javelin leaning against the intricately-carved arm of his chair, watching the human’s face as the human watched his hand.

The smile widened instead of faltering. “Alright, I hear you! Promises of future profits are unpredictable! I understand that. We’re a little light on gold right now, but I’m sure we can come to some kind of an agreement. 6% and some gifts, and we promise to leave our campsites better than we found them.” The man winked, as though he meant to be charming.

Gozukk kept his face still and pounded a fist against the arm of his chair. “Azzor,” he ordered, still in common, turning to look over his shoulder at his oldest friend and current general, “Order the scouts to keep records of any traces these invaders have already left. I wish a full report ready should these men return.”

He turned back to the man, keeping his face stern and unmoved. “We will not accept our own land as your bargaining chip. Make a better offer.”

He could hear Azzor shifting behind him. Good. He was backing the play, choosing a more intimidating stance.

This time, the man’s smile faded. He turned to whistle to the man closest behind him. “Bring me the small chest. The one with the gems. You know which one. And whatever else you think’s tradeable. And be quick with it.”

The man nodded, wide eyed, but then tugged at his leader’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. The leader grunted, but then nodded. “One less mouth’s better. Bring her.”

The leader’s smile was wide again when he turned back to Gozukk, wide and false, and Gozukk’s hand itched to reach for his javelin, for all that he knew he shouldn’t start fights that didn’t need starting. He wasn’t a young fighter anymore, on his own. He couldn’t stand up and punch the smile, just for being smug.

Instead, he waited. The small chest came first, opened dramatically in front of him to reveal low-value gemstones of no great quality, the agates and onyx polished brightly but of no great worth, in particular. He shifted in his seat as he listened to the man’s patter, acknowledging them for what they were but spinning them as a down payment on what would surely be better coming back through the other way.

He didn’t like this man. He didn’t like his caravan, or his patter, or his smile, or the way he seemed so sure he could hoodwink a camp of orcs into letting him past. There had to be a way to refuse him passage without sparking a fight, didn’t there? Perhaps if he sent him along another specific route, or offered scouts to help the caravan navigate its way out of his territory.

But then - motion at the back of one of the middle wagons drew his eye. The man who had been sent back to the caravan had pulled a humanoid figure out of the wagon and was pulling it forward by a rope that bound its wrists and extended out into a lead.

As they drew nearer, it became clear that the figure was a woman, thin and dirty, clothed in a ragged dress and with no shoes to protect her feet from the hot sand. She hurried to keep up with the man leading her, but he seemed not to care that she was cooperating, pulling harshly at the rope in sharp tugs that almost pulled her off balance multiple times.

When they got close, the man pulled even more sharply on the rope, tugging her toward him and gripping her by the upper arm. He dragged her forward that way, until they both stood beside the leader. She had bruises around her eyes, new and dark on the left and old and yellowing on the right, and the bottom half of her face was covered with what looked like a leather muzzle.

She kept her eyes down on the ground, even as the man holding her arm nearly lifted her off her feet by it.

“Now I know she doesn’t look much better than the gems,” the leader said smoothly, “But she’s obedient, aren’t you sweetheart?” He gripped her chin and squeezed it, and the girl looked briefly up at Gozukk, her wide, terrified eyes meeting his for just a moment before they lowered back to the sand in front of her. She nodded frantically the moment the man let go of her face, and he laughed and patted her cheek. “And she’s part elf, so she’ll live a good long time. Servant for life sort of thing. Show him the ears.”

The man holding the woman’s arm lifted his other hand to pull her greasy hair back away from a pointed ear.

Gozukk stifled a growl and shifted slightly in his seat, his stomach muscles tensing as he fought to keep his composure. “Let me see her,” he said, “Closer.”

The leader gave a curt nod and the woman was dragged forward and then shoved, half thrown so that she landed hard at his feet, barely catching herself on her bound hands.

She moved quickly, pushing herself up to kneel at his feet instead, her eyes carefully trained on the rug beneath her. Gozukk could see spots of dried blood speckling the back of her thin dress, and patches of scalp where her hair had been pulled roughly. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly, frightened little panting breaths coming from her flared nostrils, too shallow to fill her belly like they should.

Azzor shifted again behind him, moving his feet just barely in the sand, getting into a fighting stance in case Gozukk called him to it.

Ten years ago, he thought, he would already have done it. But there were more than warriors here to worry about, and he had to keep his head.

“When you return the other direction, you will send a message to us,” he told the leader of the humans, “We will send a message bird with you. Once you have sent it to us, you will camp at the edge of our territory and wait for the scouting party to collect your 6% and accompany you through our land. You would be unwise to be caught here again without our permission.”

“It’s a deal,” the human leader said jovially, evidently content. His face slid into a smirk. “Enjoy her. I know we have.”

Gozukk’s stomach muscles tightened again. He could not fight this man here. Not right now. Later, away from the main camp, perhaps, if he could find a reason. But not right now. He breathed through his nose, more slowly than the woman at his feet, keeping himself calm.

The human holding the chest of gems (and, he suspected, a handful of polished rocks) set it carefully on the edge of the rug in front of Gozukk’s seat, treating it with more care than it deserved.

Then the leader whistled again, turning to his men and waving a hand in the air in a circle. “Pack it up, boys. We’re losing daylight.”

Gozukk turned and nodded to Azzor, who nodded back. Azzor barked orders in orcish, telling the scouts to prepare to accompany the humans out of their territory and the sentries to stay on guard until the scouts returned, and the watching warriors hurried into motion, too.

Gozukk needed to hold his position until the humans were gone, across the sand. He needed to stay here, looking regal, in case any of them turned back to look.

The girl at his feet was shaking visibly, still kneeling, still averting her eyes, still breathing too fast and too shallow, and he worried she might breathe so quickly she passed out.

Finally, the carts and wagons were far enough away, and he allowed himself to relax, sighing deeply and letting his head fall backward, his eyes closing as he let the sun light up his eyelids.

Then he lifted his head again and slid forward out of the chair, kneeling beside the prisoner.

She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide and terrified, and her nostrils flared again as she forced her head back down, her neck bending farther as if under a great weight.

“It’s alright,” he said in common, speaking softly this time, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “You’re safe now. Just raise your head so I can take that off.”

Azzor was still behind him. “Goz-” he started, his voice also relaxing now that there were no humans around to require a show of force.

Gozukk laughed. “Right. Can you do magic?”

The girl shook her head frantically.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

She nodded, her eyes still wide.

“Good enough for you, Az?” he asked, looking up at his friend, advisor, and general.

Azzor rolled his eyes, which was answer enough.

Gozukk reached slowly toward the woman, who trembled harder as his claws got closer. Then he unclasped the muzzle from behind her head and eased it away from her face.

She took in great, gulping breaths as soon as her mouth was freed, her body almost convulsing around them, and as her body heaved with fear, the breaths turned to sobs.

He rubbed gently at the back of her neck, ignoring the sobs, for now, as if they were still just breaths, after all.

“There,” he said, voice still gentle, “That’s better. Just breathe. You’re alright.”

She wasn’t, and he knew it.

“You’re going to be alright.”

He turned to look around at the tribe members still watching the caravan disappear into the far distance. He’d made worse deals before, but at least this time, he was confident his people would understand.

The half-elf woman sagged forward, pressing her forehead to the rug, her back still heaving with hard, frightened breaths and desperate, scattered sobs. He kept rubbing gently at the back of her neck and glanced up at the horizon, trying to decide what grounds he could look for to turn on the caravan when they returned, if they didn’t try to cheat his people on their own and make it easy for him.

#whump #d&d whump #fantasy whump #hurt/comfort #slavery whump #(for now)#ttw slavery #tw captivity #tw manhandling #tw muzzle

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cicada-bones · 4 years

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The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 32: The Battle for Mistward

Sorry for the wait! (and sorry that im posting this in the middle of the night - again.) This one was really hard!

Also - its a monster: over 8,000 words. But I really hope you enjoy! (sorry in advance about the angst! but y’all already know how this goes down, so you really should be prepared).

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Early that morning, Rowan hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.

He’d woken up shaking and sweating, his dreams fading behind his eyelids. This time however, as he held Aelin’s dead body in his arms before the burning mountain cottage, it was Namonora’s words that echoed through him.

You must save her, but not for you.

She is different. She could be something different.

You cannot let that girl die.

Rowan’s silent vow in return still ached in his very bones. Because when he’d agreed, he hadn’t really been promising Namonora. He’d been promising himself – swearing that he wouldn’t let his blood oath be the reason for her death, no matter how it tortured him. No matter how it twitched and writhed in his chest.

It had been an acknowledgement of what he knew he wanted, deep down.

Rowan wanted to be sworn to Aelin, not Maeve. To serve her, and be in her court, and at her side. Always. Rowan wanted to give Aelin the blood-oath. And it wasn’t only because she deserved it, or because she needed him.

It was because he wanted to do something good. Because he wanted to be good.

Rowan hadn’t been good in centuries. He couldn’t have recognized good if it had stared him in the face. But now, with this princess, with this Queen just within his grasp, Rowan found that he wanted to be who she needed. To follow the old ways.

To be good, once more, before he died.

Aelin sighed lightly, and turned over on the bed, her golden hair twisting around her shoulders.

Her scent wafted around him, all-encompassing. Overwhelming. That familiar desire coiled in his gut, the desire to reach out and touch her. To reach out and claim her. To bite her, in that lovely space between her neck and her shoulder, or at the tips of her ears. To bite her all over.

Rowan was sure that he would be able to recognize her scent anywhere. That even in a crowded ballroom, he would be able to find her from scent alone. That he would be able to track her down from thousands of miles away.

But it was more than just scent – in the back his mind, or perhaps somewhere deep in his chest, he could sense her. Could feel her presence. In the weeks they had spent breathing in each other’s scents, they had become bonded. No matter how far away she was, Rowan would be able to feel her there. Feel her close.

Rowan closed his eyes, despair joining the desire smothering his limbs. The world had now shown him just exactly how good life could be, and it was about to take it all away.

And Rowan could see it all, could see every detail of that alternate future. It teased him, a delicious fruit just out of his reach.

In that other world, Rowan would leave Wendlyn with Aelin. He would help her form her court, would stand at her side. If she wanted, he could help her take her revenge, or regain her throne. In that other world, he could claim his lands and title, and he could make his suit with her. He could offer her wealth and men and material, and in that other world, he might be able to profess what he felt for her. And maybe, in that world, he could find out if she returned those feelings.

But that wasn’t the world they lived in.

Rowan breathed deep through the fury that rose up in his chest. But he wasn’t angry at Maeve, or the other blood-sworn, or even the gods – not really. He was angry at himself. At how weak he had been. How shortsighted.

Rowan threw off the blankets and strode over to the window where he immediately shifted and soared out into the blackness.

The winds were cold and dark and unexpectedly silent. Usually, the sky was alive with the sounds of the night-creatures; filled with the hoots of hunting owls, skittering mice, foxes playing in their holes, and bats gliding atop wind-rivers, scooping up bugs or pieces of dropped fruit.

But there was only quiet, and Rowan was uneasy.

He decided to take a sweep of their perimeter, his mind still consumed with thoughts of Aelin. But what he found there sent all those worries right out of his head.

···

Rowan roughly shook Aelin’s shoulder, relieved when her eyes shot right open. “Get your sword and your weapons, and hurry,” he said, already halfway across the room, slinging on a shirt and padded overcoat. He could hear Aelin doing the same, her breaths coming quick and copper tinting her scent.

“I think we’ve been betrayed,” Rowan continued, now sliding daggers into position along his forearms, shoulders, and thighs.

“They’re coming tonight,” Aelin breathed.

When Rowan turned to look at her, her eyes were wide as she stared out their small window at the silent forest and the advancing line of black. A darkness that blotted about the stars, blacker than the night.

Rowan’s teeth gritted together. They had only minutes to wake the fortress and get everyone into position.

“I did a sweep of the perimeter,” he said, stuffing a knife in each boot. “It’s as if someone told them where every trap, every warning bell is located. They’ll be here within the hour.”

“Are the ward-stones still working?” Aelin began braiding her hair, then strapped Goldryn across her back.

“Yes – they’re intact. I raised the alarm, and Malakai and the others are readying our defenses on the walls.” He’d intended to wake the old male before Aelin, but found Malakai already up and sitting at his desk, staring into a small fire, the empty bed neat and untouched.

Now, Rowan could only be grateful that they had left Emrys with the healers, no matter how it pained Malakai to be separated from his mate.

Rowan strapped his own sword across his back, alongside the hatchet and hunting knife. Aelin was now pulling on her boots, and her voice was hard as she asked, “Who would have betrayed us?”

“I don’t know, and when I find them, I’ll splatter them on the walls. But for now, we have bigger problems to worry about.”

Aelin’s eyes twitched back to the open window, where the darkness on the horizon had spread, devouring the stars, the trees, the light. Her voice was tentative as she said, “…what is that?”

Rowan’s mouth tightened, becoming a thin line. “Bigger problems.”

···

Minutes passed in a flurry of activity. Malakai took up his station behind the battlements, where he could control the flow of information and direct their movements through the battle. A few of the younger, less capable sentries were sent deep into the castle, guarding the emergency escape tunnel. A few more stood by the entrance, front lines for when the soldiers broke through the front gates.

However, the vast majority of the demi-Fae stood atop the battlements, clutching bows between white knuckles and shaking fists, readying themselves to launch volleys of arrows and pour vats of pitch and oil. Rowan and Aelin stood at the helm of the paltry force, each carrying bows of their own, and trying their utmost to emanate waves of confidence. It wasn’t working.

The men were scared. Rowan had done his best to shield them from the knowledge of their fate, but he couldn’t hide it all. They knew the numbers. They knew their chances.

The ward-stones were the last line of defense before the fortress itself, and Rowan had no idea how long the magical shield would last under an assault by the dark creatures. It could be minutes, could be seconds.

Either way, Mistward couldn’t outlast them forever. And when the creatures broke through, two hundred soldiers at their heels, the demi-Fae would have to face them head on. They didn’t have enough arrows to guarantee the deaths of even half Adarlan’s forces. No matter what, they would soon be facing hand-to-hand combat against an enemy clad in iron and wyrdmarks.

Once they ran out of arrows, the sentries would leave the battlements, one by one, and enter the courtyard – where they would wait. Wait for the gates to be breached, so they could use the entrance as a bottleneck. Wait for the fighting to commence.

With each breath, the darkness on the horizon drew closer, bringing their doom along with it.

The wind gave Rowan barely a few moment’s warning before dozens of animals began to stream past the walls of the fortress, fleeing the veil of blackness. Claws clicked over stone, wings flapped overhead, fur and feathers and scales blending into a medley of creatures, all led by the Little Folk. And though they were barely more than a gleam of nightseeing eyes at the edges of the flock, Rowan could have sworn that they kept glancing toward the woman at his side. To the princess.

Barely seconds after the last of the Little Folk disappeared into the woods, heading up into the mountains to safety, the veil of darkness touched the circle of stones. It rested against them, a dark cloud hovering in wait.

“As soon as the barrier falls, I want you to put arrows through their eyes,” Rowan said to Aelin, though his eyes were forward, scouring the woods for their arrival. “Don’t give them a chance to enthrall you – or anyone. Leave the soldiers to the others.”

Rowan still couldn’t hear or see anything to indicate the presence of the soldiers, but he remembered the strange effects the darkness had. It could easily shield an army from sight or sound.

Aelin nodded, gripping her bow more tightly. “What about magic?”

“Use it sparingly, but if you think you can destroy them with it, don’t hesitate. And don’t get fancy. Take them down by any means possible.”

As he spoke, a reek began to rise from behind the barrier, the smell of death and dust and carrion. The demi-Fae around them began to shift in their positions, murmuring uncomfortably. Their sense of smell was nowhere near as sensitive as Rowan’s – but still, they could hardly not notice the otherworldly stench seeping from the blackness. A smell straight from the lands of Hellas.

A few straggling animals darted from the tree line, their limbs awkward and disjointed, foam bubbling from the corners of their mouths. Aelin’s voice floated up from beside him, her words hollow and detached. “Rowan – they’re here.”

As if she had conjured them herself, the creatures emerged from the darkness, halting barely five yards from the ward stones. They were dressed in all black, their tunics slightly open to reveal the stone torques choking their necks. Their veins bled black, their talons sharp and polished, their eyes piercing the fortress like dark blades of obsidian. The cloud of fear around them was so intense Rowan could barely taste anything in the air other than copper.

And once they emerged from the darkness, he almost felt as though he could feel them, a harsh pressure against his skin. Like rough cotton, or unpicked wool. Three distinct presences that pushed on his soul.

Rowan started slightly. Three, not two. Three.

Aelin seemed to realize this at the same time he did. “But the skinwalkers – ”

Her voice cut off as that male, that beautiful male from before, smiled. It was a look born of knowledge, and of familiarity. A look directed straight at Aelin.

Rowan felt the energy in his body alchemizing, intensifying. Shifting from raw power into violent intent. He wanted to kill that creature. He would kill him.

A rabbit bolted from the bushes, racing for the path between the ward-stones. But before it could make it, a whip of darkness lashed out and passed over the animal. It appeared to have no more substance than a shadow, or a cloud of smoke, but the rabbit fell mid-leap. Its fur matted before their very eyes, even as its flesh shrunk, drying up over its now-prominent skeleton.

Rowan held in a shudder. Together, the creatures were much more powerful than apart. He and Aelin had barely escaped the clutches of one of them, even with the help of the skinwalkers. Together, the creatures had the power of a lesser god. Together, they would crush them.

Even as this truth seeped into Rowan’s bones, the demi-Fae all around him stirred, some cursing in surprise and horror.

Rowan collected himself. “The barrier cannot be allowed to fall,” he said to Aelin, though he made sure that the surety and confidence in his tone could be heard by all. “That blackness will kill anything it touches.”

Even as he spoke, the darkness stretched its reaching fingers around the ward-stone borders, encasing them completely in a cloud of pure black. The blanket blotted out everything, the stars overhead, the forest around them – even the wind was stilled. The only light in the fortress came from their torches and candles, a paltry hint of orange in a world of pure black.

The barrier began to hum violently, sparking and buzzing, almost in agitation. But it held. However, Rowan couldn’t feel particularly grateful for it. They were now entirely cut off from the outside world.

It was as if they had been transported to hell itself.

Aelin shifted at his side, a spark of gold in the darkness. She winced in pain as her ears sharpened to points and her canines pricked her lips, but her focus remained undiminished.

Then, Narrok stepped lightly out from the edges of the trees.

He was undeniably their leader, honed and scarred and powerfully built. He moved with a lithe power, making his authority obvious and indisputable. Narrok’s gaze passed over the demi-Fae, pausing on Aelin, and coming to rest on Rowan.

For a moment, they looked at each other. Measuring and weighing.

Rowan half-expected the male to make some speech, to parlay and offer them a choice between yielding to the king’s power or death. To break their morale. But then, Narrok drew his iron blade and swung it towards the ward-stone gates, a delighted look on his face. And there was nothing Rowan could do as a whip of darkness snapped out and struck the invisible barrier.

Before they had time to strike again, before Rowan even had time to register the effect this assault had on their only magical line of defense, he was moving back towards the gates, shouting for the archers to ready themselves, for them to use whatever magic they had to shield against the oncoming darkness.

There was another strike, and the barrier rippled, the air shuddering around them as if it were a physical thing – a stone in an earthquake, the inside of a drum. The ward-stones began to whine in protest.

Behind him, the demi-Fae were moving into position, their terror barely smothered beneath their desperate preparation. In front of him, Aelin was the only thing standing between the fortress and the ward-stones. The only one who had not moved.

“Aelin,” Rowan snapped, and she looked over her shoulder at him. “Get inside the gates.”

Her face didn’t change, and her legs didn’t move. Instead, she met his gaze in that way only she could, her eyes filled with fire and fury, and slung her bow across her back. When she raised her hand, it was clothed in a glove of flame.

Rowan felt panic begin to seep into his bones.

Aelin’s words were measured. “In the woods that night, it balked from the flame.”

“To use it, you’ll have to get outside the barrier, or it’ll just rebound against the walls.”

“I know,” she said quietly, and Rowan had to actively stop himself from sprinting towards her and dragging her back behind the gates.

“The last time, you took one look at that thing and fell under its spell.” The darkness lashed once again, and the barrier groaned in response, placing a dark emphasis on his words.

Still, Aelin did not move, and Rowan stepped once towards her, his blood spiked with adrenaline. Copper swirled all around them, but surprisingly, none of it seemed to come from Aelin. Her scent was completely blank. This did not comfort him.

“It won’t be like last time,” she said, her eyes on Narrok and the creatures. “I don’t know what else to do.”

But before he could shout at her, before he could say that she didn’t need to sacrifice herself, that she didn’t need to atone for anything, that they still had time to escape together – before he could admit that he didn’t know what to do either, a cry echoed through the fortress behind him.

A chorus of shouts joined it, yells of pain and surprise. Calls for aid. Cries of Rowan’s name. Then the unmistakable screech of metal on metal, the clash of steel and iron. The sound of battle.

And it was as if he were far away, as if he were submerged in water or deep beneath the surface of the earth, as someone said, “The tunnel! They’ve been let in through the tunnel!” and a hope Rowan didn’t even know he had crashed about his ears.

They had been betrayed. And the betrayer hadn’t just undone the traps and bells, hadn’t just guided the army around their makeshift protection. They had shown them the escape tunnel. And now the armies of Adarlan were crawling up from within, creeping through the underground network of tunnels and right into the belly of the castle. The ward-stones were far too occupied with the threat from above to even notice the one the snuck up from below.

The sounds of death and combat grew ever louder, but Rowan did not move. He couldn’t. Not while Aelin was still set on her path.

“Rowan – ” her words were cut off by the sound of yet another strike against the barrier stones. And another. Flakes of granite began to fall from the pillars, a shower of dust and sparks. The groaning grew in intensity.

The barriers wouldn’t be able to hold up much longer. And Aelin knew it. She began to take a few halting steps towards the stones.

A vicious growl ripped through Rowan’s chest. “Do not take one more step – ”

He moved towards her, but Aelin didn’t halt her advance. Screaming had begun from inside the fortress, and Rowan felt like he was being ripped in two.

He grabbed her elbow, forcing her to look at him. “That was an order.”

Aelin knocked his hand away. “You’re needed inside. Leave the barrier to me.”

“You don’t know if it’ll work – ”

“It will work,” she snarled. “I’m the expendable one, Rowan.”

His words were barely legible through the growling escaping from his chest. “You are heir to the throne of – ”

“Right now, I am a woman who has a power that might save lives. Let me do this. Help the others.”

Aelin’s eyes pleaded with him. And they were the eyes of a Queen, of the Queen that he wanted. His Queen.

And she wanted everything that he did. Wanted to be good – to do something good. After all that had been taken from her, all that had been done to her and denied her, she still wanted to help. Wanted to be worthy of her name.

No matter how it tore at him, how could he deny her that?

Aelin had the best, the only chance against those creatures. Yet the determination in her eyes worried him. It wasn’t a resolve born of a desperate fight for survival. No, her eyes spoke more of sacrifice.

I’m the expendable one, Rowan.

Rowan looked at the ward-stones, at the fortress and the sentries scrambling to help below. Weighing, calculating.

If he forced her to run, he would be taking away everything she wanted to be, everything that she was. He would be betraying her, in the deepest, most essential way. And he just couldn’t do it. Even if it meant that the hopes of thousands died, right here, right now. Because it meant death either way.

So instead of asking her to run with him, instead of begging her to hide behind the wooden gates, he did the harder thing. Made the more difficult choice. The words hurt as they slipped out.

“Do not engage them. You focus on that darkness and keeping it away from the barrier, and that’s it. Hold the line, Aelin.”

Her eyes did not change, and her scent was clean of fear as she nodded and said, “Understood.”

“They will attack you the moment you set foot outside the barrier.” Rowan released her arm, and it felt like a stone removed from a dam. ““Have a shield ready.”

The scent of her magic rose, cloaking her body in flame and smoke. “I know.” Aelin said, and she turned away from the fortress, away from the demi-Fae. Away from him. Turned to face the enemy that would likely kill her.

Rowan could help but linger. Couldn’t help but wait and make sure that she survived those few crucial moments, even while those screams tore at his eardrums.

Aelin walked out over the patch of yellowing grass, drawing her golden sword, the sword of Brannon, in her right hand, while Mala’s flames enveloped her left. As she walked her flames grew even brighter. Slowly, the Heir of Fire passed beneath the stone arches and into the darkness beyond.

Rowan tore his eyes away, even as plumes of flame and blades of darkness began to clash on the other side of the barrier. He tried his best to forget, tried his best only to think of what he had to do now. To think that if he could kill enough soldiers, that if she could hold off the creatures for just long enough, then maybe they could all flee.

Rowan turned and began to run back through the gates and into the interior courtyard, rallying the sentries to his side. They blocked the gates behind them, and he left two guards with orders to alert him or Malakai should the barriers fall, and darkness reach the castle.

The rest ran with him through the stone passageways down deep into the belly of the fortress, where blood streamed on the walls and ran in puddles on the floor. Where the dead were already piling up.

Rowan drew his sword in one hand and his hatchet in the other, and threw himself into the fray.

It was hell, but it was a familiar hell. So Rowan endured.

He took up position at the head of their makeshift phalanx, directly before the mouth of the tunnel, and there he stood as time began to flow like bees and honey – thick and slow and yet also swift and jerky and filled with action.

This was the part of battle that Rowan was used to. The part that he was most comfortable in. He sword hand did not falter as it rent through flesh, felling soldier after soldier as they poured up from the depths of hell.

Still, he couldn’t be everywhere. The tunnel was wide enough that Adarlanian men could slide past the touch of his steel, and reach the demi-Fae behind him. Rowan couldn’t protect them all, no matter how much he may want to.

And so he had to listen as the demi-Fae sentries tired, and began to fall. It only made Rowan fight harder, swing his limbs swifter, but he knew that even he would soon begin to tire. That this steady tide of soldiers wouldn’t falter until far after Mistward had been overcome.

Minutes passed as hours, and after some unknowable stretch of time, Rowan was pulled aside by Luca, of all people.

The boy was breathing heavily, a cut on his temple streaming blood into his eyes, marking his brow with gore. “It was Bas.”

Rowan started, but Luca just took a shuddering breath, his light eyes shadowed with devastation. “It was Bas who betrayed us. He – he wanted power. And…a home. A place. They told him that they could give it to him.”

The pain in the boy’s voice nearly broke Rowan’s heart, but all he could manage was to place a hand on Luca’s shoulder, hopefully communicating his sympathy without words. Then he pushed the boy behind him, forcing him back up the tunnel and into relative safety, and rejoined the battle.

Bas had chafed against the inferior position of the demi-Fae more than most. He’d risen in the ranks at Mistward fairly quickly, earning himself the admiration of many of the younger demi-Fae, and the respect of most of the older. Even Malakai had liked and trusted Bas a great deal. But it’d meant that Bas always wanted more. And Mistward couldn’t give it to him.

Rowan knew from the agony in Luca’s scent that Bas had already met his end. He could only hope that the boy hadn’t been the one to do it. Could only hope that the stains on this child’s soul were not yet so black as to be irreversible.

That they would live to see the light of day, so that the boy would have the chance to heal, and forgive.

So, with each swing of his blades, Rowan hoped.

···

Gavriel’s paws pounded into the earth, his breaths ripping through his lungs in pained, ragged bursts, his limbs heavy. They had run through the day, night, and day again. Had run until they met up with Lorcan and Vaughan, and then had run some more. And they hadn’t stopped once.

It was starting to weigh on him. But now, with the sounds of battle and the feel of that strange darkness all around them, Gavriel knew that it had been worth it. That they had reached the fortress just in time.

Unless, a dark voice whispered in the back of his mind, you’re too late. Unless they’re both already dead.

Rowan and the princess. The two people he had come to help. To save.

Ahead of him, Fenrys and Connall’s wolves sprinted forwards through the trees, down the hidden path they all knew would lead out of the mountains and down into the secluded valley that concealed the fortress. They whipped around each other, the black and white wolves, playful to the end.

Above, Vaughan flew in osprey form, his great wings cutting through the mists overhead. Behind, he could just hear Lorcan pounding through undergrowth, his Fae legs fighting to keep up with the four-legged creatures. Even so, Gavriel, Fenrys, and Connall had only had to adjust their speed very little to accommodate the male – Lorcan’s massive height was enough to nearly make up for the differences in stride.

Though they had been running together through most of the night, they hadn’t said one word to each other. Perhaps it was because there was nothing more to say. They had all decided to come. Had all answered their friend’s desperate call.

It felt strange. Different, to choose to be together. To travel and fight and work together by their own volition, wholly and completely. It spoke of something…new. New and dangerous.

Then they reached the crest of a hill, and the stone castle spread out beneath their feet.

It had been barely a month since Gavriel had last been at Mistward, and yet now, the male barely recognized it. It was shrouded in a cloak of thick darkness, through which he could only barely see the hint of broken stone and yellowed grass. The towering barrier stones looked old and cracked, and the dark magic that encircled the fortress was clothed in sparks of bright, vibrant gold - the only light in the utter blackness.

Four figures stood before the gates, and Gavriel could only assume that the strange darkness came from them. All around them, he smelled copper and death and carrion, a stench so potent and intense he felt his hackles rise despite himself. And though the figures stood on two legs as men, and were clothed in the guise of men, Gavriel knew, deep in his gut, that they were as far from human or Fae as a thinking creature could be. That they were demons.

The creatures did not turn at their approach, but the darkness began to spread towards them regardless – like blood in water. Gavriel felt himself slowing, almost subconsciously. Ahead, Connall and Fenrys stopped in their tracks, avoiding the touch of the dark mist, out of fear or knowledge – Gavriel wasn’t sure.

But before Gavriel could do anything, before he could shift or speak or even growl, a piercing light breached the black. A golden blade of fire that cut through the darkness like a knife in butter. And through the breach, Gavriel could just see the image of a figure wrapped in gold. A woman, whose scent spoke of ash and spice and citrus.

The flames formed a tunnel through the darkness, and then the wolves were running. Sprinting through the black as fast as they dared. Vaughn swooped down to join them, and then Lorcan was passing Gavriel, dark limbs joining fur and feather in the golden flames.

But Gavriel was hesitating.

Not to follow his fellow blood-sworn through the breach, but to leave with them. To enter the fortress, and leave the woman behind.

Fenrys and Connall were already gone, and he could hear their furious growls shaking the foundations of the castle as they joined the battle within. Vaughn was circling the battlements, surveying the perimeter before joining them, and Lorcan was forcing open the wooden gates, making to follow the wolves into the depths of the castle.

None of them had spared the woman a glance. Had not acknowledged her, or thanked her, or thought to make sure she was alright. Perhaps, in another world, Gavriel would have done the same.

But instead, he paused, the golden tunnel disintegrating at his back.

The princess was in pain. Her face was splattered in gore, her sword hanging limply in tired limbs, her eyes clouded with exhaustion. She coughed up blood, and it shone in the grass.

But still, her words were fierce. “He’s inside,” she choked out. “Help him.”

Gavriel didn’t have to know her to know that she was begging. That she was desperate for Rowan to be safe, desperate for him to survive. Gavriel didn’t have to know her to know that she loved him.

“Go,” she wheezed through broken lungs. “Go.”

Still, he hesitated. Could he allow this woman to sacrifice herself? Could he allow her to die here, alone and without help?

The sounds of death echoed from the stone building, and Gavriel took a step towards the castle. And another.

The darkness swirled around them, barely held back by the woman’s shields of flame. And Gavriel knew that there was nothing he could do. If he stayed, he would only be able to die alongside her. His magic was nothing to those creatures. He could be of no help.

But in the fortress, he could ensure that Rowan survived. For this princess, he could make sure that Rowan lived. And he could bear witness, could remember her sacrifice, her bravery, for the remainder of his too-long life. He could do her that honor.

So Gavriel turned away from perhaps the bravest woman he had ever known, and dove through the gates and into the waiting battle below.

···

Rowan was far from exhausted, and yet his thoughts were scattered, his limbs slow and unsure. Most of his attention was far away from this dark and bloody tunnel, up at the stone gates, with the female that was risking everything to keep the fortress from being overrun.

No, Rowan was not exhausted. He had fought for far longer and in worse conditions. But the demi-Fae were. Each of their swings were slower, weaker. It took more effort each time they faced an enemy to fell them, especially as soldiers continued flooding the fortress, an unending stream.

Rowan yanked his sword from the gut of a falling soldier, his dagger already slicing the neck of the next, when a deep growling shook the stones of the fortress.

Relief, deep and profound, threatened to bring Rowan to his knees.

Many of the demi-Fae around him froze in fear as twin wolves leapt down the staircase, closing their massive jaws around the necks of enemy soldiers. Massive wings flapped, and then white light flashed and a glowering, dark-eyed male was before him, already swinging a sword to decapitate another solder.

Vaughan merely nodded grimly at him before taking position on his left side, never one to waste words. Beyond him, the wolves were nothing short of lethal, not bothering to shift into Fae form as they tore through enemy ranks.

The demi-Fae began to rally once more, taking up arms once again with more vigor than Rowan had yet seen. Now it was the soldiers from Adarlan who looked fearful. Who blanched and stumbled, wide-eyed in the darkness.

That was all Rowan needed to see before he was running, sprinting back up the stairs and dodging the bloodied and worn demi-Fae. Dread clenched its fingers around his quick-beating heart. Darkness had not yet fallen, the stones of the fortress still stood, which meant that she had to still be breathing, that she had to still be holding the line, but –

A mountain cat skidded to halt on the stairwell before him and shifted. Rowan took one look in Gavriel’s tawny eyes before he demanded, “Where is she?”

The male’s eyes tightened, almost imperceptibly, and he held out one arm. As if to stop him. “She’s in bad shape, Rowan. I think – ”

And Rowan was shoving aside his oldest friend, already sprinting up the stairs. Not waiting to hear the end of that sentence. Not waiting to find out what he had allowed to happen to the princess. To his Queen.

Another towering figure appeared on the steps before him – Lorcan.

Even Lorcan had answered his call. Rowan shouldered past him without a second glance – the time for gratitude would come later, and the dark-haired demi-Fae didn’t say anything as Rowan rushed headlong to the battlement gates.

What he saw there nearly drove him to his knees.

The wall of flame was in tatters, but still protecting the barrier. But the three creatures…Aelin was standing in front of them, hunched and panting, sword limp in her hand. They advanced, and a feeble blue flame sprang up before them.

They swiped it away with wave of their hands. Another flame sprang up, and her knees buckled. The shield of flame surged and receded, pulsing like the light around her body.

She was burning out. Why hadn’t she retreated?

Another step closer and the creatures said something that had her raising her head. Rowan knew he could not reach her, didn’t even have the breath to shout a warning as Aelin gazed into the face of the creature before her. And there was absolutely nothing behind her eyes. No fire, no fury. No life.

A wave of emptiness replaced the panic strangling Rowan’s limbs, and it felt as though all of the life vanished from his body. She had lied. She had lied to him. And this realization hurt almost as much as the knowledge that they were about to die.

She had wanted to save other lives, yes. But not her own. She had gone out there with no intention of coming back. Of surviving.

Fury rippled, deep in his gut. He would not, could not, allow it. Even if she had succumbed to her grief, Rowan wouldn’t allow her to just vanish. To let herself be annihilated.

Rowan took in a breath – to roar, to run, to call his power, but then a wall of muscle slammed into him from behind, and tackled him into the grass. And though Rowan shoved and twisted and writhed, he couldn’t do anything against the four centuries of training and feline instinct that had him pinned.

Gavriel knew him, had helped train him, had worked with him for centuries. And Rowan could do nothing to thwart him. Could do nothing about the magical shield Gavriel had raised, nothing about the muscled limbs clenched around his arms and legs.

They both watched as the creature took Aelin’s face in its hands, and her sword thudded to the ground, forgotten.

And Rowan was screaming. Screaming as the creature pulled her into its arms. Screaming as she stopped fighting. As her flames winked out and as the darkness swallowed her whole.

Gavriel held him through it all, keeping him from sprinting through those broken gates and into that blackness that destroyed worlds. The blackness that was well on its way to destroying his.

Rowan was aware of Lorcan lingering behind him, a dark presence at his back. He had no room to wonder why. Why he stayed. Why he watched.

Rowan writhed in Gavriel’s grip, and the barrier fell.

It fell without ceremony, without sound. One second it was there, a dark, crackling energy, and the next it was gone. Had winked out of existence as easily as the sun passes behind a cloud, or a fog fades at break of day.

Rowan hurled his power at the cloud of darkness with all the force he could muster; summoned gales of winds and storms of ice, but nothing could pierce it. The cloak of darkness held, a black shroud that hid his Queen from him. And it did not advance.

Though the barrier had fallen, the creatures did not attack. The darkness did not move. And Rowan thought he knew why.

The creatures and Narrok had captured a prize far greater than the demi-Fae. The joy of feeding on her was something they planned to relish for a long, long while. He had felt their joy as they consumed the female in the caves, had sensed the curling anticipation of the male that had chased them through the woods and into the arms of the skinwalkers.

The creatures fed on pain and suffering, and hers was far greater than any they could’ve possibly imagined.

Minutes passed, and though Rowan did not stop his useless assault on the darkness, time felt stagnant. Nothing changed. The sounds of the battle raging beneath them did not slow, nor did Gavriel’s grip on his shoulders slacken. And Aelin did not succumb.

Rowan wasn’t sure how he knew: he just did. Aelin was still alive. Her heart still beat, and until it stopped, he would fight. With everything he had, he would fight.

Even as he began to hear that soft, warm female voice. Beckoning to him. Calling him to her, begging him to join her. Saying that if only he came, she could live. If only he came, they could be together again, forever. If only he came, she would forgive him for everything, for all of it.

It tore him to shreds. And the minutes ticked by.

“Rowan,” Gavriel murmured, tightening his grip on Rowan’s arm. Rain had begun pouring. “We are needed inside.”

“No,” he snarled. They didn’t understand. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but the girl dying in that dark. Dying alone. Thinking that he had left her to die alone.

“Rowan, the others – ”

“No.”

Lorcan swore over the roar of the torrential rain. “She is dead, you fool, or close enough to it. You can still save other lives.”

They began hauling him to his feet, away from her. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll rip your head from your body,” he snarled at Lorcan, his commander. The male who had taken him in, who had trained him. Who he had traveled with through the long centuries.

But Rowan said it anyways.

Gavriel flicked his eyes to Lorcan in some silent conversation. Rowan tensed, preparing to fling them off. They would knock him unconscious sooner than allow him into that dark, where Lyria’s beckoning had now turned to screaming for mercy.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

But Aelin was real, and was being drained of life with every moment they held him here. All he needed to get them unconscious was for Gavriel to drop his magical shield.

“Let go,” Rowan growled again, preparing to strike.

But then a rumbling shook the earth, and the three of them all froze. Beneath them, some huge power was surging, so massive and primordial it set the ground trembling. So massive that Rowan felt it in his very bones.

They turned toward the darkness. And Rowan could have sworn that a golden light arced through it, then disappeared.

“That’s impossible,” Gavriel breathed. “She burned out.”

Rowan didn’t dare blink. Her burnouts had always been self-imposed, had always been born of that iron cage, the bars that she hadn’t been able to rid herself of. That she had clung to, through all these long weeks.

The creatures fed on despair and pain and terror. But what if Aelin could let go of those fears? What if she walked through them, and learned to embrace them?

As if in answer, flame erupted from the wall of darkness.

The fire unfurled, filling the rainy night, vibrant as a red opal. Lorcan swore, and Gavriel threw up additional shields of his own magic. Rowan didn’t bother. They did not fight him as he shrugged off their grip, surging to his feet.

The flame didn’t singe a hair on his head. It flowed above and past him, glorious and immortal and unbreakable. It embraced him. Welcomed him as a friend.

And there, beyond the stones, standing between two of those creatures, was Aelin, a strange mark glowing on her brow. Her hair flowed around her, shorter now and bright like her fire. And her eyes – though they were red-rimmed, the gold in her eyes was a living flame.

The two creatures lunged for her, the darkness sweeping in around them.

Rowan ran all of one step before she flung out her arms, grabbing the creatures by their flawless faces – her palms over their open mouths as she exhaled sharply.

As if she’d breathed fire into their cores, flames shot out of their eyes, their ears, their fingers. The two creatures didn’t have a chance to scream as she burned them into cinders.

She lowered her arms. Her magic was raging so fiercely that the rain turned to steam before it hit her. A weapon bright from the forging.

He forgot Gavriel and Lorcan as he bolted for her – the gold and red and blue flames utterly hers, this Heir of Fire. Spying him at last, she smiled faintly.

A Queen’s smile. Full of relief and friendship and care and tenderness. It was a smile he wanted to look at for hours. A smile he wanted to see every single day until the day he died.

But there was exhaustion in that smile, and her bright magic flickered. Behind her, Narrok and the remaining creature – the one they had faced in the woods – were spooling the darkness into themselves, as if readying for attack. She turned toward them, swaying slightly, her skin deathly pale. They had fed on her, and she was drained after shredding apart their brethren. A very real, very final burnout was steadily approaching.

The wall of black swelled, one final hammer blow to squash her, but she stood fast, a golden light in the darkness. That was all Rowan needed to see before he knew what he had to do. Wind and ice were of no use here, but there were other ways.

Rowan drew his dagger and sliced his palm open as he sprinted through the gate-stones towards Aelin.

For even if it was all for nothing, even if he couldn’t help her, even if it made no difference at all whatsoever, he would at least be by her side. Neither of them would be alone. They could be together, as the darkness consumed them.

Rowan reached her, panting and bloody, and he held out his hand for her to take.

They were carranam, and he had come for her, just as she would have for him. And Rowan saw in her eyes that this would work. That she believed it too. He didn’t know if his power was strong enough, didn’t know if they would survive.

He didn’t know, but he hoped.

Aelin held his gaze as she grabbed her own dagger and cut open her palm, right over the scars that marked her blood-oath to avenge the death of her friend, her oath to save her nation.

And even though she knew he could read the words right off her face, she still asked him, “To whatever end?”

Rowan just nodded, and she gripped his outstretched hand, joining them. Blood to blood and soul to soul. He wrapped his other arm around her, grasping her tightly and feeling her heartbeat on his skin, the contours of her body against his. He leaned close and whispered softly into her ear, “I claim you, too, Aelin Galathynius.”

The wave of impenetrable black descended, roaring as it made to devour them. But they were together, no longer alone. They had both survived horrific things, had both weathered darknesses much greater than the one they currently faced.

So Rowan was not afraid of that crushing black, not with the Queen in his arms. The woman who had lit up his night. Who made him want to live once more.

Rowan breathed deep, and let the barriers within his mind fall, one by one. And he felt as Aelin’s mind entered his, felt as her fire flickered in his veins, her power new and bright and hot.

She drew his power into her, and it flooded out of him in a great rush, Rowan letting it flow freely between them as their blood dripped down their entwined arms.

Her well of power was near-empty, but its sheer size still astonished him.

It was fathomless, an enormous, hollow expanse. Was as vast as the sun – as the very core of the earth. She was the Heir of Fire, the Heir of Brannon, and she had no equal.

Rowan felt vulnerable in a way he never had before as Aelin sucked his magic from him. Vulnerable, but completely unafraid. To her, who’d had nothing and no one, who had been left completely alone, he gave the one and only thing he could. Himself.

Aelin’s knees began to buckle as the weight of their shared power took its toll, and Rowan held her in place, supporting her body while her mind bore the immense weight of their combined magics.

Then, Aelin struck.

The black wave had not even hallway fallen before Aelin shattered it apart with an arc of golden light, leaving Narrok and the remaining creature gaping.

She didn’t give them a moment to recover. Aelin reached into Rowan, drawing his power into her own body, his ice and wind and lightning becoming fire and light and heat in the alchemy of her blood. And then it exploded out of them in a torrent of golden flame.

Together they burned, surrounded by the force of a thousand stars. Embers crackled in the air all around them, flickers of flame like millions of fireflies. It was like standing on the surface of the sun.

Narrok and the creature were shrieking, and the sounds tore up his eardrums, a blade digging in and twisting. He and Aelin clung to each other as she crammed the light down their throats, burning up their black blood.

There was a sudden silence. And before he was destroyed completely, Narrok looked at Aelin, his eyes piercing her deep. For a moment they stared at each other, seeming to exchange something. A final goodbye.

Rowan clung tight to Aelin, keeping her anchored to him as the light around them intensified, becoming so bright it was actually painful. But Rowan forced his eyes to remain open. Forced himself to watch.

Aelin called the light to her, bending it to her will. And then she forced it into the creatures, pouring all of that beautiful, golden light into every shadowy corner of them.

The ironclad expression on Aelin’s face did not shift as she stared back at Narrok, and burned him to dust and ashes.

The remaining creature only managed to crawl two steps before he succumbed as well, a silent scream frozen on his dark face as he was incinerated.

Slowly, the light and flame receded, and Aelin’s exhausted mind fell away from his own. And all that remained of Narrok and the three creatures were four Wyrdstone collars steaming in the wet grass.

Their bloody palms fell apart at last, and Rowan felt Aelin’s soul slip out of his grasp. He shivered, suddenly cold.

Rowan looked up for the first time, and found that the darkness was completely gone, utterly eradicated. And though Aelin had burned as hot as a falling star, the trees around them were still green, the mists still chill. Towards the east, Rowan could just see the faint rays of dawn beginning to peek around the mountain peaks. The tips of Mala’s fingers stretching to greet them, washing the last of the darkness aside.

Aelin swayed slightly, utterly spent, and Rowan wrapped his arm around her more tightly, guiding her over the uneven grass and up the blood-spattered steps, towards their rooms. But before they left, Rowan leaned over and scooped up the stone collars, sliding them onto his swordbelt.

Gavriel and Lorcan were already gone, presumably to assist below. The sounds of battle had died down, the clash of metal and shouts of pain dwindling into silence. The fortress halls were quiet and empty as they walked side by side.

The second Aelin’s head hit the pillow, she was dead asleep.

Rowan pulled off her boots, rolling her over in order to pull the blankets out from underneath her. Then he tucked her into bed, carefully arranging the covers over her sleeping form.

But before he left the small stone chamber, his fingers found their way into her golden hair. Rowan smoothed the golden strands back behind her ears, gave her one last, lingering look, and walked out.

...

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

Journey to the Past - Prologue

Joe!Dimitri x Anastasia!Reader

Summary: The royal family is overthrown in a violent revolution. However, rumor grows that one daughter survived. Could the last of the line be found? Will a con man and a princess put a twist on what it means to live a fairy tale?

Word Count: 1.4k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf, @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Here we go the Anastasia story! I’m drawing from both the movie and the musical, and it’s still tied to the other three Fairy Tale stories, and you’ll find out how more specifically later on. Hope y’all enjoy :)

Warning(s): Mild descriptions of violence.

Moodboard

Prologue here we go!!!

The screams were terrifying. But the silence afterward haunted him forever.

The family had no idea the resistance knew of their hideaway in Ice Hollow. The frigid, northern tip of the kingdom was not where many would assume the royals had a vacation home. But it was actually reserved for times like this, when their safety was in question. The house there was a secret known only to the royals themselves and those closest to them. But the resistance had that information directly from the source.

Pasha stood outside the window, the medallion around his neck, glowing green and smoky with excitement. He was so close...so close now to my revenge, Drago thrummed against Pasha’s chest. Pasha looked down harshly, tucking the medallion under his shirt. They could not risk the family spotting them because Drago was beside himself.

Inside, Pasha saw the family. Alexandra sat rocking the young boy, Prince Alexei. The four daughters were spread throughout the room. Olga, the eldest, sat close to her mother and was knitting. Tatiana, the next child, was tinkering on the piano. Maria, the third daughter, was doing some embroidery. Anastasia, the youngest daughter, was curled up on the couch by the fire, reading. The King sat beside her, looking into the flames and stroking her hair absentmindedly.

The unrest of the country had aged King Nicholas. Lines across his forehead showed how often it was creased. Gray hair dusted his head and beard, which he smoothed with his free hand. His eyes had a far-off look about them. Little did he know, they would soon be even further off. Staring at nothing. Empty.

Pasha turned when he heard his comrades walk back over to him. There were ten men, all sent here for the same purpose, with Pasha in command. They regrouped a few yards away from the house so they could report what they saw.

“The house is unguarded, sir,” said the second in command. “At least it is now.”

He held up a bloody bayonet and snickered.

“The fools really thought two sentries were enough?”

“Good work,” Pasha praised. “How many servants are present?”

“Just three,” another answered. “Two women and a boy in the kitchen. Should we have taken them out?”

Pasha shook his head. “No, those people are not our enemies. We’ll enter down in the kitchen, let them run, and then take care of business with the family.”

They nodded. Pasha held each of their gazes a moment, searching for even a hint of hesitation. He found none. Each of them knew their role, and ones who had a specific family member assigned to them knew what to do. It was time to put on their masks and move in.

Guns raised, they circled around to the servant’s entrance. The door was unlocked and it led right into the kitchen. Pasha led the way, and when the cooks saw him and his men, they gasped, but he held a finger to his lips. A redheaded boy that was maybe ten years old was pushed behind one of the women’s skirts.

“You have five minutes,” Pasha whispered. “To run. If we find you here later, we will be out of mercy.”

They nodded. Although, Pasha saw a flash of refusal in the boy’s face. Without another word, the woman in front of him took his hand, and they all departed out the door and into the snow, taking only their coats and scarves. Pasha knew they would not dare alert the family.

The men crept up the stairs. The one behind Pasha stumbled, causing a loud thump. They all came to a halt as Pasha shot him a warning glare. He was certain the family would think nothing of this, but they couldn’t be too careful. If one thing went wrong…

They pressed on. The parlor was just off to the right when you came up the stairs. Pasha and his men slowly approached. The medallion throbbed again. The coming bloodshed pleased the spirit inside it immensely. Drago’s eagerness spread to his host.

They stopped outside the parlor door. Pasha could hear the fire crackling. The king’s voice could be heard for a moment. Then some footsteps.

Now, Pasha! Drago urged.

Pasha raised his foot and kicked the door in. The family gave a start as the men entered, surrounding them with muzzles trained. Alexandra tried to cover her boy with her body. The older girls dove toward the couch. The king stood in the center of the room, refusing to lower his proud head.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“King Nicholas,” Pasha began. “We are here to answer a warrant.”

The blood drained from Nicholas’s face.

“We the members of the resistance sentence King Nicholas Lee, and all his house to death,” Pasha continued. “By firing squad.”

“Please,” the king said levelly. “Let my family go, I’ll abdicate, you can take me, just don’t hurt them.”

“It’s too late for negotiations,” Pasha said. “Now, everyone, on your feet!”

The others shouted at the girls and the wife and son to obey. Trembling, they did. Pasha noticed however, the look of defiance on the youngest daughter’s face. The family was lined up in the center of the room. Alexandra and Olga were weeping. Tatiana and Maria were holding each other’s hands. Alexei leaned against his mother’s leg. The king stood next to Anastasia, the pair of them holding their heads high.

Pasha stood before Nicholas. Each assigned gunman stood directly in front of their designated family member. The others stood back, rifles aimed at Nicholas.

“Your Majesty, Drago sends his regards,” Pasha said, and he felt his chest burn with the satisfaction from the medallion.

And with that, he pulled the trigger.

However, the king was the only family member to immediately drop to the ground. Pasha looked down the line and saw that chaos had broken out. Anastasia was grappling with the man who was supposed to shoot her. The other girls had seen her resistance and followed suit, though Olga and Tatiana were bleeding from their arms. Maria from her leg. Alexandra was sinking slowly to the floor, clutching her stomach. Alexei lay still beside her.

The medallion raged along with Pasha. He stepped over and slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of Anastasia’s head. A shot went off from behind him as she went to the ground, and he saw blood begin to pool at her shoulder. The whole room was suddenly a mess of screams and shots. Bayonets and daggers were drawn shortly after, so the gunmen would not shoot their own group. Pasha took Maria by the hair and brought his bayonet right across her throat. The other girls were finally subdued by the others, and lay still on the floor, not even breathing. Alexandra was struggling to draw breath and trying to shrink away from the onslaught. Pasha retrieved his pistol and fired it directly between her eyes. She slumped over, still.

He rounded on his men.

“You sloppy idiots!” he barked. “You had one job, and you were nearly stopped by children?!”

“Sir,” one of the men said, stopping a tirade before it started. “This girl’s still alive.”

He was kneeling beside Anastasia. He rolled her over and she moaned.

Pasha huffed irritably, marched over, and drove his bayonet into her side. She cried out and then finally, lay still. The last of the Lee family was gone. It was eerily quiet. As if the whole world had stopped breathing. Pasha felt suffocated by the heavy silence.

“Let’s get out of here,” he spat. “Before you all screw up anything else.”

They all jogged out of the parlor, and then out the front door. Two men grabbed the drums of gasoline that were waiting outside and poured it at the edge of the house. Then Pasha lit a match and dropped it. It ignited the house in flames - the final disposal of evidence. Not that anyone would even know where to look for the royals, but just in case. Then, they all piled into a waiting truck and drove out into the forest.

None of them noticed the redheaded boy sneaking back to the house, breaking a window, and climbing in.

Pasha was momentarily consumed with Drago’s thoughts and feelings. It was done. The country was his now. Then, the host felt a bit sick.

The screams were terrifying. But the silence afterward haunted him forever.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x you #John Deacon #John deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon x you #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x you #borhap boys #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x you #journey to the past series

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messymessyml · 3 years

Text

Sometimes a premonition is destined to happen

Hi all,

This is the craziest thing I’ve written in a long while and the strangest part about it is that my top three oddest pieces of writing have all had a Greek Mythology worldbuild. It’s what the ancient Greeks would have wanted.

This is my Secret Santa 2020 gift for @bunathebunny and my prompts were ‘Percy Jackson AU’, ‘turning into cats’, ‘no soulmate AU’, ‘Jason x Luka’, and ‘Stephanie x Marinette’. There were a few other requested ‘fors’ and ‘against’s’ I was able to include here, but I have to say, this was the most reader-specific thing I think I’ve ever tailored. I hope you like it!

FYI: “~~” indicate POV changes, and while I ended up breaking this into chapters, this is essentially a oneshot. I curse when Jason is the narrator since I can’t see Jason as Jason without it so if that’s not your thing be forewarned. This is also cross posted on AO3.

@maribat-secret-santa-2020

Chapter 1

The camp was noisy, with people’s inner songs reaching out to the treeline in a mess of chaotic synergy. Word had arrived that Artemis and her hunters had just reached the outer edges of the barrier around the camp and the camp-goers who were not busy with sentry duties or away from camp were frantically working to put the finishing touches on the new lodgehouse erected for Artemis’s feast. Artemis was one of the more frequent godly visitors to Camp Half-Blood, but it was rare that she deigned to make the visit official, much preferring to conceal herself as another half-blood or a visiting instructor under a different guise. As son of Apollo, Luka was aware of a more mischievous side of his father’s twin sister, and the grating cacophony of sound combined with the foreboding feeling he felt down to his bones stemming from this impending visit was just on the edge of overwhelming for him.

Finding a quiet area was relatively easy, all told, though his senses tried to disagree with him as they quailed from the near sensory overload all he had to do was move to the outskirts of the lake as he followed a very familiar and well worn path. As Luka approached his boyfriend’s House, that marrow-ache he always felt from prophesy tightened in tandem with the relief that enveloped him as blessed silence cloaked him in it's comforting embrace. It seemed that the adventures of today wouldn’t be as easy to dodge as he’d hoped, but it was comforting to know that his boyfriend would be along with him for the ride.

Jason was having a no-good gods-be-damned day.

He’d been woken by Emma and Darcy who had managed to get into what appeared to be no holds barred fight to the death a four in the fucking morning. Emma, the eastern screech owl he’d found a few years before making his way to Camp Half-Blood, was hooting up a storm and fluffed to Elysium while Darcy, the mustard-bellied snake Luka had given him about a year and a half into their relationship lunged at Emma’s clawed legs with his teeth extended. Suffice to say, he wasn’t happy to wake up like that, and it served them both right that they were now separated on either ends of his lodge by a verifiable army of skeletal mice. It made a sort of macabre justice to see them cornered and policed by their own undead meals as he had left his lodge after breaking up the fight.

He was currently in the mess hall grabbing food, but it wasn’t much of an improvement over his living quarters. The raucous environment grated on his ears after a less than full night’s sleep and the fact that it was mostly the higher pitches of the girls making most of the noise didn’t help matters. The porridge he’d grabbed was looking less appetizing by the minute.

He’d just decided to give up on his breakfast when Jason heard a familiar voice call out “Hey bozo, whatcha up to this fine morning!” at the same moment another body hit his side. Jason faintly registered the girl who hit him let out an “oops'' as this action pushed his hand into his spoon and sent mush into his face. Miraculously, not a drop landed on the perpetrator, which gave Jason enough of a clue to know the identity of both the girl hanging from his shoulders as well as the girl still approaching from behind him.

“What. The. Fuck.”, Jason deadpanned. Taking a napkin from the center of the table, he did his best to wipe up the mess even with his tag-along making the stretch all that more difficult.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Jay. Marinette didn’t mean to do it, you know that.” Saying that, Stephanie slid on to the bench on his other side, leaving Marinette to cage him in from the right.

“Sorry, Jason. Next time I’ll check my landing!” Marinette added with a cheeky little grin.

The nerve. Jason couldn’t really say this minor level of chaos was out of the norm for his friends, but after his early wake-up call Marinette’s clumsiness wasn’t appreciated.

“Why the fuck are you two so energetic today? For that matter, why are all the girls acting like Eros came for a visit?” Jason asked.

Marinette piped up stating, “Artemis and her hunt are set to arrive today! Steph and I aren’t on sentry duty so we won’t get to join the welcoming party, but that just means everyone who isn’t on duty can join Artemis on her hunt later today!”

“I think she’s looking to recruit some new huntresses, and after her last visit to the Amazons, this is the next spot scheduled.” Stephanie confided. “Obviously everyone only means all the girls, so that’s why you’re hearing mostly girls talking about Artemis’s visit.”

“Knowing your luck, you’ll be offered a spot and rope Steph here into joining too.” Jason directed to Marinette with a raised eyebrow.

“I may have luck on my side, but I doubt Steph or I will actually join.” Marinette responded, continuing over his head with a smile, “I’m too happy with you to give all this up.”

Jason could see Steph smile from the corner of his eye as he wiped the last of the oatmeal from his face as she replied, “Babe you and me both.”

“Not that this isn’t exactly what I want to hear before eight in the fucking morning, but I need to get back to my cabin; I left Emma and Darcy in time-out and I need to re-up the power behind the undead mice keeping them away from each other.” Jason reluctantly got out.

“Ha, what the fuck? I thought those two got along, did they decide to wake you up, Mister Grumpypants?” Stephanie teased him even as Marinette relinquished her vice hold and scooted to the side to let him up.

“Sure as the Underworld, they decided 4AM was the best time for it. I swear, good ole pops must have remembered I existed for once and decided to have E and D play messenger or somethin’.” Jason grumbled as he got up and grabbed his tray.

“Don’t be a stranger! You won’t like the consequences, Jay!” Stephanie called out.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah, I got it. See you guys.” Jason said as he waved over his shoulder and dropped his bowl off at the clean up station on the way out.

Jason made his way back home, not in a hurry to arrive but not making any stops on the way. His father didn’t do him any favors in the PR department, and most camp-goers avoided him on principle. It wasn’t like there were many demigods with Hades as a father, and most avoided children of the Big Three out of practicality if not fear. Jason soon found himself entering his cabin, pleasantly surprised to see his boyfriend Luka calmly sitting waiting for him on the bed, gently strumming his guitar. Less pleasantly, it seemed his broken concentration at breakfast cost him a few skeleton mice enforcers whose bones were strewn across the floor and a clear path of destruction was shown leading from the corners each animal were previously penned into to the center of the room. He couldn’t see any blood and it looked like Luka had been able to calm them down as Emma and Darcy were now perched on his shoulder and leg, respectively, but it didn’t take a genius to see that they both weren’t done fighting.

“Hey love, I didn’t expect to see you until later today, what had you up so early?” Jason queried.

Giving one last strum to his instrument, Luka pulled a hand away to capture Emma in one hand, preventing her from diving down to the snake anklet just visible from under Luka’s pant leg. Darcy seemed content to stay where he was curled around Luka’s warmth. Sometimes it was eerie watching his boyfriend’s knack for precognition in action. Mostly, it got him hot.

“There were too many conflicting songs near Apollo’s cabin this morning so I woke up early. I came over here for some peace and to see you.” Luka calmly replied.

Nodding, Jason moved over to the washbasin, washing his face and hands, a simple “wait a sec” enough for the time being. He wanted to hug his boyfriend, gods dammit, but he didn’t want to do it with porridge on his body.

“Marinette struck again.” Jason complained, “She managed to land on me without me hearing her or her shadow reaching me first and got me covered in my breakfast. Not a drop landed on her, Luka! Luck shouldn’t be that powerful, babe.”

Luka’s eyes twinkled as he grinned and said, “What did you expect, mon beau, she is the daughter of Tyche.”

“The minute she and Steph got together it seemed they were a match made specifically to punish me. I swear, if Steph uses her powers on me one more time to rig another prank in her girlfriends favor, I will fill her bed with dancing bones.” he said as emphatically (read: dramatically) as he could.

“Sounds like a plan.” Luka full-out grinned, hardly able to get the words out. Once he’d gotten a bit of a handle on his response, Luka continued, “What do you say about joining me on our date a little early? Since we’re both up, let’s try to get to the river fort a little early; we might be able to watch the hunt from that vantage without incurring Artemis’s wrath.”

“Ugh, yeah, lemme just…” Jason said as he pulled power from the ground, focused on the mice bones scattered around his cabin. Commanding the dead to do his bidding wasn’t all that hard, but he wanted to make sure both Emma and Darcy stayed away from each other so he also instructed the shadows to form a barricade, making sure that the shadows understood that they needed to remain opaque and in between his companions while he was gone. That done, he turned to Luka and caught the tail end of his softened expression which never failed to soften his own brow in return.

“Ready, love?” Jason asked.

“With you? Always.” Luka replied.

Chapter 2

Jason found himself following after Luka as he moved through the forest like he belonged. Most of the time, he found himself bringing up the rear as it was easier for him to keep in contact with the shadows a step or two away from his child-of-the-sun boyfriend. Jason felt more secure being able to keep in touch with his shadows as they acted as an early warning system for any ambush. His time on the run while he made his way to Camp Half-Blood gave him a healthy dose of fear for the unknown and a respect for the utility of his powers to keep himself and others safe. With how distracted people had been that morning, there was no telling what might have slipped past the sentries divided attention.

Luka was up ahead, likely channeling the song of the forest as he usually did on these hiking dates of theirs. Today’s melody was a bit more playful, with individual notes that rang out loudly every few chords. With one last set of instructions to the shadows, Jason left them and pulled abreast of his boyfriend.

“Were you able to eat before you made your way to my cabin, Luka? I didn’t see you in the mess hall.” Jason began.

Still strumming, Luka responded, “No, I had a feeling that we should stay together today and try to get to the fort by the waterfall as quickly as possible. It feels like one of those omen-filled days.”

Small chills went down his spine as Jason digested that information. The fort was pretty far away from the residences and probably the furthest training ground in Camp Half-Blood. They would sometimes go to it on their days off since the location was hardly ever visited so he hadn’t thought much when the spot was originally proposed, but Luka’s intuition was never to be taken lightly. Even though they’d been walking for an hour or so, talking or enjoying each other’s presence, there was still a way to go to reach the fort. Time to get a move on, then.

“In that case, babe, let’s get moving.” saying that, he placed his hand on Luka’s hand holding the guitar, making eye contact, and after a gentle squeeze he let go.

Luka knew that the music would have helped, but he was weak. They’d been dating for over three years at this point and friends for almost five and he was still weak to those eyes. Sometimes Jason seemed to reach inside his chest and squeeze his heart to pulp, the only thing left the breath in his lungs calling him to sing. Sing his feelings and leave all else to the wayside.

It meant he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.

It meant he didn’t feel fate grab hold.

Jason with laser focus on the path ahead and him with his head in the clouds, it meant they stumbled upon the hunt in progress without realizing it.

Chaos. Stephanie couldn’t have stopped the trainwreck that just happened to save her life. Unfortunately, her friend’s lives might be at stake at this point, so that just wasn’t gonna cut it. Time for damage control.

Stephanie and Marinette had joined the hunt after Artemis called for volunteers for the day stating that a training session was in order. They’d been tracking the golden buck that was the star of the hunt for almost two hours at this point and it was getting close to midday. The sun was shining almost directly down on the buck as it paused in a clearing where the animal trail intersected with one of the paths more commonly used by camp-goers. Stephanie and Marinette were shadowing Artemis while Artemis’s third-in-command waved three other girls to fan out to surround the clearing, both groups moving in tandem to corner the buck and lead him on a chase to the river. The purpose of the training exercise was to learn how to pursue large prey and tactically block all escape rather than a simple kill the buck, otherwise their team of demigods and goddesses would have finished the hunt over an hour ago.

Unfortunately, it seemed her dumbass friends didn’t get the memo and stumbled directly on the clearing, obscured from view until they were directly in the sunlight. As they came into view, the buck stiffened and the game was up; the buck’s nostrils flared and the animal ran in the exact opposite direction as intended, straight for Artemis.

Artemis swiftly shifted from the red-haired youth she had chosen for the hunt to a body with an Amazonian stature, her hair shifting to a sleek brown and her features shaping into an adult countenance. The buck, startled, reared up and attempted to hit the goddess, hooves aimed to cut and bruise. Artemis swiftly moved around the buck’s shoulder, pulled a knife from its sheath at the base of her spine and slit the buck's throat as it’s feet came down, spasming as it fell to the ground.

Sternly, moving to face her friends, Artemis’s booming voice could be heard: “What nonsense goes here? Who are you to dare ruin this hunt?”

Stephanie bit her tongue to avoid speaking on their behalf. Her own powers beat with Artemis’s thirst to mete out her comeuppance on the boys.

Her eyes cut from Artemis’s back to Jason’s as he straightened his spine and stepped further into the clearing to state: “Apologies, Artemis, we didn’t intend to interrupt your hunt. I was hiding myself and my partner in the shadows to avoid startling your prey, but it seems luck wasn’t on our side today.”

“Son of Hades…” Artemis said thoughtfully. “Your father has been kind to my children lately. I may be lenient on your punishment because of this. However,” here, Steph could see Artemis’s head tilt to fully view Luka, “Apollo has been quite impertinent lately. You, I do not feel so kind toward. You, I may turn into a boar for today’s hunt and I might not guarantee your safe return to humanity.”

The threat hung in the air. Stephanie so badly wanted to intervene. Perhaps...her eyes cut to Marinette’s and a moment passed between the two. Darting her gaze to Jason’s, she mouthed the word ‘luck’ and ‘Tyche’ to her girlfriend, hoping Marinette would be able to pick up her plan.

“Artemis,” Stephanie spoke. “Perhaps a middle-ground would be satisfactory. Marinette over there is the daughter of Tyche and I am the daughter of Nemesis; perhaps she could help you verify their claim about luck and I could propose a suitable punishment?”

Artemis half-turned around to view her as she contemplated the offer, her eyes piercing as their color shifted with her thoughts. Stephanie could feel her breath catch in her throat as she waited for Artemis’s response.

“Hmm, I suppose you all are still young, perhaps my usual punishments for men who interrupt a hunt can be bent.” Artemis’s gaze turned in Marinette’s direction. “What say you, daughter of Tyche? Are your powers strong enough to judge their statement true?”

Stephanie could see her girlfriend straighten her spine and tuck her chin determinedly before she replied, “Yes, I can do that.”

“And you will answer truthfully? You know I will know if you lie.” Artemis warned.

“Yes.” Marinette swore.

“Hmm. Very well, show me your skills.”

Marinette stepped forward, circling around the fallen buck and towards the boys. Jason was leaning just the slightest bit forward, while Luka seemed at ease. Stephanie’s eyes caught Luka’s and the amount of Zen in them was calming. Hopefully, he was calm because he had foreseen this gamble pay off. Stephanie could see Marinette’s hand raise to face their friends and a light pink glow started to emit from her hands, forming the Greek words for ‘ominous end’ over Jason’s head and ‘bright mayhem’ over Luka’s. Below, a timer formed, showing Luka’s current luck to have started at sunrise that morning, while Jason’s was marked in years, days, and hours. It wasn’t clear from what Stephanie could see whether Jason’s timer was moving backward or forward. It gave her chills either way.

Marinette’s voice rang out with her verdict: “Their luck was at fault today. It appears the Muses found these two to be fun to play with. Chance was at play.”

Shaking herself out of it, Stephanie stepped forward and pulled that sense of vengeance and judgement to the forefront of her mind as she spoke, “Since the hunt was not interrupted maliciously and was due to bad luck shared between the two, a shared punishment would be best. I propose the boy’s take the place of the buck in the hunt, but ask that they fall to no harm and their punishment ends at sundown. Do you agree this punishment is fitting, Artemis?”

A mirthful chuckle left the goddess’s lips while a yelp exited Jason’s. Stephanie kept her eyes on the goddess’s; the boys were on their own if Stephanie let on she wasn’t as impartial as she wished to appear to be to the goddess.

“If a time limit is what’s called for, daughter of Nemesis, then so be it.” Artemis said. “I agree to your proposed punishment and am willing to ensure no permanent harm befalls them so long as they stay within the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood, but if we only have until sundown, they’d better work hard to keep the hunt challenging. You two won’t be prey animals, oh no, let’s see what predator’s you’ll be.”

Artemis didn’t wait to hear from any of the campers present, including the boys, waving her hands in their direction even as Jason opened his mouth to argue. Jason’s comically open mouth shifted along with the rest of his body into the form of a mountain lion, leaving a large cat with a panting mouth in his place. Luka’s form shifted to that of a European lynx, even that unflappable friend of hers looking ungainly and awkward from the suddenness of the change.

Both boy’s clothes and bags had disappeared in the shift and Stephanie couldn’t help hoping that they’d return with the boy’s human forms when they were changed back at sundown. She shuddered at the thought of leading two whining toddlers back to camp in nothing but their birthday suits, and if Luka lost that guitar he wouldn’t be able to play for her anniversary dinner with Marinette. There’s no way she’d be able to propose to Marinette without Luka’s musical help. Stephanie sent a prayer for continued good luck towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law, stepping back as Artemis said, “Let the hunt recommence!”

Chapter 3

This was worse than any stint he’d pulled in the Underworld. He’d lost Luka a while back when another hunting party found them. Luka had bounded for the trees and he’d headed in the direction of the river. His powers weren’t working in this form and it bit him pretty deep as it felt like an entire sense of his was missing. Since he’d ‘woken’ back up from his near perma-death after his mom had died and learned to access his control over the shadows and bones around him, he’d come to rely on them pretty heavily without realizing it.

That was probably why he’d gotten Luka and himself into this mess in the first place; he didn’t realize that the clearing was entirely devoid of shadows and it was too close to midsummer for the clearing to allow him to hide in the shadows like he was used to. He’d managed to escape the hunting party on his tail but he was worried for his partner; moving in a new body and effectively becoming prey wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

Luka could tell that this series of events was what his intuition was telling him would happen when he woke up this morning. All told, it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever gotten himself into, and it was kinda cool to be able to leap from tree to tree and traverse the forest at this pace. It seems like most of the hunters had moved towards the river, as he hadn’t encountered any other hunters after losing his tail near the cliff face further inland. He was currently making his way towards the fort, figuring Jason would manage to follow the river to their intended destination without too much worry. For now, he’d enjoy this new body and feel the new rhythm he could feel through his paws and his nose while he waited for sundown.

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

Claws were not for him. Whoever (read: himself and most definitely Steph) got him into this mess, they’d pay. That was the fourth hunting party he’d encountered and the second time he’d had to cross the river and backtrack to hide his tracks and he was sooo not down for the feel of wet fur. This just went to show how feathers and scales were so much better and why Emma and Darcy were the only pets for him; he could tell he wouldn’t want to pet an animal with fur for months after this.

Currently, he was hiding in a tree, taking a page out of his boyfriend’s book and hiding in the trees rather than at ground level. He could see Marinette and another girl from a different hunting party conversing about 10 yards away; there was no way he was getting down or giving away his position anywhere near where Artemis’s party could be found. That psycho goddess had it out for him, lenient his ass.

Marinette could tell Jason was hiding in that tree, the water puddle slowly forming underneath him was a dead giveaway. She loved the goofball too much to actually hunt him though which was about the only bit of luck he’d seen today (she could tell). Honestly, he’d have been caught at least seven times by now if she hadn’t miraculously shifted the tides of luck surrounding him or redirected other hunters like she was doing now. Mirabelle was a nice girl, but a little too vicious to let her in on the game she was playing, so she was focused on sending her off on a wild goose (or cat) chase as soon as possible.

“If we pincer attack, we can pin him down. “ a branch broke off from Jason’s direction and fell on the ground, causing Marinette to pause and do her best not to glare and give away the game. “...does that makes sense?”

“Yeah, I think the best bet would be for me to go down and try to pick up the trail, and run him back to you. Sounds good?” Mirabelle said.

“Yep, let’s do this!” Marinette sweetly smiled in reply.

Mirabelle nodded, turned, and Marinette watched her go, waiting until she was out of earshot to say, “You are the absolute worst human-in-cat-form I have ever seen.”

Marinette marched over to Jason, seeing him freeze and look her dead in the eye. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell what Jason wanted to say, but she could fill in the gaps for him.

“You, monsieur, are going to give yourself away at this rate. I’d like to keep you in one piece if it’s all the same to you, so here’s what you’re going to do: head inland and away from the river. We were driving our prey towards the river to trap it, so any hunting party worth their salt will be crawling along the riverbed. You are going to head to the fort upstream and hide; not many other camp-goers go there as frequently as you and Luka do and it’s your best chance to stay out of Artemis’s sight. Stephanie and I will continue to run interference, but you are acting like a teenager going through a growth spurt with how clumsy you’ve been, and that’s saying something coming from me!”

The big cat scoffed at her, but leapt to the next tree, struggling a bit to land gracefully but not with too much trouble and continued on like that further inland as directed. Marinette didn’t watch for too long; she had a job to do.

Luka ends up outpacing most of the hunters he’s encountered, but one is hot on his tail, following him at forest level as he makes his way through rocky outcrops to the fort. He’s not sure if it’s an official member of the hunt or another camp-goer, but he tries his best to wind his way around boulders and choose outcroppings that blend in with his fur color to avoid his pursuer.

Taking a small break, he waits in the shadow of an outcropping, watching. His pursuer is good; that he can tell, and he doesn’t want to lead them directly into the fort and make it even hard on him and Jason to get through this debacle. It seems, it’s time to call for help.

“Apollo, hear me please. Your companions the Muses have struck a game between Artemis and I, and I need your help. Grant me aid avoiding my pursuer.”

“Luka, son of mine.” Apollo’s amused tone filtered through his mind. “You’ve gotten yourself trapped by one of Artemis’s hunter’s I see. Very well, I will help you this once, but I will be joining as a spectator for this one. Artemis’s main trouble is with me, after all, and I’d like to see her face when she realizes you’re under my direct protection.”

Soon after, a flash of light appeared, blinding his pursuer, and Luka moved onward while she was distracted.

It was close to sundown, and Jason was finally in reach of the fort by the waterfall. After his encounter with Marinette, he’d seen evidence that Stephanie was also redirecting heat away from his passage through the forest, but it was still slow going. His bulk had almost ratted him out more than a few times, and he’d taken to any groundcover he could when possible as it was almost impossible for him to figure out how to move through the trees without sound. He was stealthy enough on two legs to give assassins a run for their money, but put him on four legs and he was worse than a toddler was at stealth. He hadn’t seen Artemis since the beginning, but knowing his normally catastrophic luck, that was only due to Marinette’s aid.

Crawling forward, he inched his way around the watering hole below the waterfall in the direction of the fort, when suddenly an arrow passed in front of his paw and hit the stump he was crouched by….Clearly, Marinette’s blessing was wearing thin. Taking his chances, Jason bolted.

Arrows pelted behind him, and the aim they held was mocking in its accuracy. Just close enough to scare but not close enough to injure. The direction they came from was just as confusing as they seemed to originate from the water.

Diving behind another tree, this time close enough to the fort to see his boyfriend peering from the battlements, he peered out in the direction of the water to see none other than Artemis hovering in place, this time in a blended form that combined the youthfulness and agelessness of the two forms he encountered her in earlier. She was also holding a really fucking scary recurve bow, so there’s that.

“Come out and play, kitties. You know you know a good hunt is part of your deal with me.” Artemis crooned.

Jason wasn’t fucking moving, dying was not part of the deal. Unfortunately, it seems his slow arrival also allowed Artemis to set up an ambush as two women lept at him from the shadows (the traitors, he was going to train so much to overcome this dependency he’s built on them), forcing him to emerge. Jason kept his eyes pinned to Artemis, even as he heard others leave their hiding places to encircle the clearing at the base of the waterfall.

He was trapped.

Luka watched as his boyfriend was driven into the open. He was also being ushered out of the protection of the fort and into the open himself.

“Now would be a good time, dad.” he whispered his prayer.

Marinette was about to lose the game she’d decided to play, and she was NOT happy. Nothing she could really do about it; she could see that the balance of luck and fortune were too stable to shift.

She was so focused on trying to parse the threads of fate that she almost missed the flash of light that signaled Apollo’s arrival. Marinette did see Artemis whirling around to glare at the newcomer, though, a bright man in a Hawaiian shirt and chacos. Apparently, being a deity did not automatically give you god-tier fashion sense.

“Artemis, dearest, what’s this I hear about a grudge against my son and his partner? I thought you left the animal transformations back in the Hellenistic period.” Apollo drawled.

“You! I can’t believe you have the audacity to show up now of all times! Where have you been?” Artemis yelled.

“Sometimes a god has to go on vacation too; you — of all of us — leave Olympus the most, dearest, so I assumed you’d understand.”

“Sometimes?! Sometimes doesn’t happen midway through a war council when you’ve promised to share a prophecy pertinent to the fight at hand! Ares about had my head about wasting the council’s time on petty matters because you flaked out to — where, Tahiti???”

“What can I say? Sometimes the sun in this hemisphere just isn’t it. I’ve got to share the light with everyone.”

“Apollo, you — !” screeching, Artemis brought her bow to bear on Apollo, shooting faster than even the demi-gods present could see.

Apollo was shifting around, using the last rays of the day’s light to bend away from her arrows, periodically reminding her “This is Camp Half-Blood, dearest.” and “You don’t want to hit one of your precious hunters, do you?”

Giving one last yell of frustration, Artemis released her quiver and lowered her bow and arrow, pinched her brow and said through gritted teeth, “Apollo, you insufferable child. You. Are. Coming. To. Olympus. With. Me.”

With a brief glance at the sky and a one-handed vice grip on Apollos bicep, Artemis stated, “A fine hunt, your debt is repaid.” Then she waived her hand towards the big cats seemingly frozen in place and teleported away.

Stephanie was closest to Jason and saw as his form crumpled to the ground, shifting back into human form. Stephanie ran to help him up even with the shadows swarming around him as his powers returned in a sudden influx. She grabbed him and hoisted him up onto his feet, keeping her hands firm and grounding while he readjusted to his normal form again.

Stephanie just thanked the gods that her friends weren’t naked after returning to normal.

“You two need to stop getting into so much trouble; you’re lucky Marinette and I were there to help.” Stephanie commented, finally releasing her hold on Jason to let him stand under his own power.

“Yeah, fuck you too.” Jason growled out.

Luka picked himself off the ground, checking his guitar for any damage. He saw Marinette approach from the corner of his eye with her palm facing him, granting him good fortune, so he wasn’t too surprised that he couldn’t find any damage to his instrument on close inspection.

Luka glanced up at her and said, “Thank you, Melody. This day would have turned out much worse without your help.”

Marinette just smiled softly at him in return. “Let’s go home.”

#Jason Todd x Luka Couffaine #Stephanie Brown x Marinette Dupain-Cheng #maribat #maribat-secret-santa-2020 #gift fic #secret santa #fanfic #ML x DC #percy jackson crossover #mlb x dc

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

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How the GoT Characters React to You Saving Their Lives

this was requested like eons ago i sure hope that anon is still around LOL, forgive me

In this preference, you'll be saving: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Snow, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

In the thick of Robert’s Rebellion, Ned and his men had been taken by surprise by a group of soldiers that they had no choice but to fight. They managed to win, but staggered their way to your family’s keep, injured and not even fully sure of your family’s loyalties. Given that your father was slain in battle already, you were the Lady of the keep, and you took them in without question. He knew the great risk you were taking, even as you pretended not to know them. He thought about your kindness and bravery long after they left your keep, and he knew he had to repay the debt somehow.

"Had the Targaryens won, Lady Y/N and her family would be put to the sword and their lands taken. I could never forget the risk she took for me."

ROBB STARK

In his youth he’d often avoided Maester Luwin when he was hurt, preferring to brush it off and insist he was fine, but Robb knew this was a serious wound he couldn’t just walk away from. You found him on the battlefield and quickly noticed the infection. Back at his tent, you helped fix the wound properly. When Robb woke up some days later, he had only vague memories of a lovely person watching over him. He tried to get answers, but it seems you had left the camp already. Theon teased the way he was “mooning”, but Robb owed you his life. He just had to meet you properly.

"She left the safety of the camp to find me and then watched over me. No ordinary girl would do that. I owe her so much more than thanks."

SANSA STARK

You both were warned by your fathers to stay inside the safety of the Red Keep, but you were too adventurous for your own good. You talked Sansa into coming with you to explore the markets. Sansa couldn’t refuse you, even if she’d rather stay inside. Everything was fine until you noticed a man following the both of you. When he finally cornered the two of you, you pushed Sansa aside and told her to run. When she found you again, she shook you for being so reckless.

“What happened, what did you do? I was so worried - let’s go back, Y/N, I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you. And you’re a mess! Were you hurt? I’ll look after you myself.”

JON SNOW

You thanked every god that you decided to be thorough that night and do one last sentry round across Castle Black. You heard sounds of a struggle and came running to Jon’s rescue as a dead ranger was upon him. You grabbed it and distracted it enough for Jon to burn the cursed thing. Neither of you could explain what happened, but Jon was quick to grab your arm and breathlessly thank you for coming when you did. You realized he normally wasn’t so forthright, and after that, you two developed a friendship.

“Y/N, I should thank you properly for… that. Whatever it was. You were there just in time.”

BENJEN STARK

It happened during a rangering, when you two were trying to do a routine patrol. Wildlings descending upon you wasn’t anything new, but the blizzard that kicked up wasn’t helping. You lost your horse in the fight, so you guided Benjen’s while he sat behind you, patched up with a makeshift bandage job you had to do in a hurry. It was a frightening night, but you were able to make it back to the Wall. Benjen knew you didn’t want the attention, but he couldn’t help himself relaying the story to his brother and Jon when he visited Winterfell. It was only Ned who knew you were a woman disguising for years as a member of the Night’s Watch.

“I told the Lord Commander what she did, of course, but she’s adamant about keeping it secret. That doesn’t sit well with me, brother. I have to thank her somehow.”

JORY CASSEL

While most ladies were told to stay in their wheelhouses when travelling, your parents knew you liked riding too much, so you often rode beside the guards and chatted with them. Jory always liked your company when he escorted your family to Winterfell. Your escort was attacked by bold kidnappers, and you would’ve stayed out of the way, but you noticed Jory was thrown from his horse. You hastily rode to his attacker and cut the man off his horse, saving Jory from a trampling. Once the kidnappers were fended off, he thanked you right away and wasted no time in telling the others at Winterfell, much to your embarrassment.

“I think you did a great thing, my lady. Most men wouldn’t do the same for me. I suppose I owe you my life, but I wouldn’t want to wish for anymore danger.”

EDD TOLLETT

Cynical as he was, you knew Edd would throw down his life to protect you. The two of you hoped for an uneventful rangering, but the Bear was taking everyone so far from the Wall, that seemed unlikely. When the Others attacked, it was all chaos, and you were cutting through them to protect your Brothers. You didn’t actually find out you saved Edd from nearly getting his head lopped off until he told you afterward. With all the thick fur coats and the harsh wind the Others kicked up, it was hard to see just who you were swinging at.

“You really didn’t notice me struggling with that ugly one? I should count myself lucky your eyes aren’t as bad as Sam’s, love. Wait, you weren’t hurt, right? Let me see that wrist.”

MANCE RAYDER

Back in his ranger days, Mance knew of your disguise and found it amusing to say the least. He always admired your skill and you two were a formidable team when you traveled beyond the Wall. During one of your rangerings, a group of Wildlings descended upon you, and Mance was severely injured from it. You managed to patch what you could and get him back on his horse, guiding both horses back to the Wall. When he left the Night’s Watch, he kept the bright piece of cloth you used to wrap his wound. Mance always kept it on his person, almost like a good luck charm. “This? It’s from a ranger who dragged me half-dead back to the Wall. An old friend who I miss very much. I wonder what sh… what he’s doing now.”

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

You and Tormund made a great team, so you were often on the same missions together. You saved each other’s skin more than a dozen times each, but Tormund was no less excited and grateful each time. The most recent one was when he was grappling with another man on the ground, and you came at them with an axe. Some may have considered that too close, but Tormund was just impressed how accurate you were with the swing. He proudly lifted you up and yelled at the rest of your comrades of what you just did - even if they already saw it - and wanted to tell the camp, too.

“Mance! Come here. Come listen to what my woman did this time. Right between the eyes, cleanest cut I ever saw. Any other man woulda missed, or hacked my nose off. Shoulda brought the head to show ya - ah, why can’t I do that next time, Y/N?”

THEON GREYJOY

Theon grumbled for nearly half an hour that he had it, you didn’t need to get between him and the boar. For one, a girl shouldn’t be handling a boar spear - how did you learn to use it so effectively, anyway? - and secondly, he was just about to shoot an arrow through it. You finally slapped Theon’s back and told him you’d gladly let the next boar get him, because it was only a matter of time before this happened again. Robb was amused by the back and forth, but he tried to be serious. “Theon, one tusk is all it takes for your guts to turn inside out. Y/N saved your life.”

“I know! I heard you the first time. Fine, Y/N, I guess it was… good timing. It won’t happen again, though.”

YARA GREYJOY

It happened during the capture of Deepwood Motte, as you fought alongside Yara and her men. While she was grappling with the weapon of the man in front of her, you saw a Northern soldier pull back his bow. You tackled him to the ground, his arrow went flying way off to the side and you struggled in the dirt with him until you finally cut his throat. As you pulled yourself to your feet, you saw Yara give you an appreciative nod. That night, as she and her men settled into the keep, she gave you a large mug of ale paired with a slap to your back.

"Good work looking out, Y/N. At least someone on this crew uses their head, of course it’d be the other woman. Next fight I’ll have you by my side.”

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

She anticipated her guards to put their lives before her own. She’d seen Jorah and Grey Worm have all manners of close calls, and while it gave her a moment of fear, she knew it was their duty. That’s why you shouldn’t have been doing the same thing. You threw yourself in the middle of the riot, shoving away a man with a sword and kicking away another. Finally an Unsullied handed you a spear and you shoved off several more before grabbing Daenerys and running to safety. Once you two were safe, she pushed you off.

“What were you thinking, Y/N?! You threw yourself right into that crowd - I don’t care if that sword was close to me, you will not endanger yourself on my behalf!”

JORAH MORMONT

Jorah always knew he could rely on you to have his back in a battle, you were more than capable, but he hadn’t expected something like this. Drogo was dead, and his riders were turning against each other. He had to face off three at once, and ended up knocked to his knees by the third one. You rushed forward, killed the rider, pulled Jorah up and shared just a few moments of rest before the fight continued. Dawn finally broke and you two were tending each other’s wounds while Dany took stock of what was left of her khalasar. Jorah wanted you in his arms as soon as possible.

“You shouldn’t have had to fight this battle, my love. The trouble with Drogo, then the witch… I’m just glad you’re safe. It seems I have even more to be grateful for, hm? You’re sure you aren’t hurt anywhere else?”

MISSANDEI

Even if you were rarely in the public eye, and Missandei was not well recognized among the citizens of Meereen, you two still took precautions when going out and enjoying the markets. Your cloaks didn’t protect you from being noticed by a certain assassin, and once you two passed an empty alley, he jumped Missandei first. You were on him at once, throwing him off her with a fury and kicking his weapon away. You used your own to kill him. Missandei was shaken up, and you were quick to comfort her and make sure she was alright before adjusting her cloak and going home. Once you two were in the safety of your room, she wanted to give you several appreciative hugs and kisses.

“You know I am not new to violence, but … It was just so sudden. I was more afraid for your life… Let’s take a guard or two next time, please? Just to be safe. I don’t want you endangering yourself on my behalf.”

GREY WORM

You two finally had leads on the Sons of the Harpy, and like always, you worked as a team. You found a few of their operatives, and chased them through the streets. Once you had them cornered, they fought fiercely, and the last one was dangerously close to landing a dangerous blow on Grey Worm. You got between them, taking the brunt of the damage yourself, and while you collapsed Grey Worm mercilessly ended the man. He carried you back to the Great Pyramid with a speed he didn’t know he had, and waited anxiously while you were treated.

“You took the blow that was mine. You shouldn’t … my life is not worth what your’s is, Y/N. Next time, let it happen to me.”

TYWIN LANNISTER

Having one’s wife involved in the battle plans was not typical, but no one wants going to speak against you to Lord Tywin’s face. You were always present at war councils, and you stayed behind during the battles, listening to reports coming in from scouts. There was concerning news about a large number of Stark troops that were going to provide reinforcements and a surprise attack. You made a decision, using every bit of your influence and your husband’s name to send out troops of your own to deal with them. Several nerve-wracking hours later, you learned the battle was being lost, and the men you sent helped turn it into a proper victory. As the men returned, you were startled by the wound your husband sustained, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. Once you two were alone in his grand war tent, Tywin surprised you by pulling you close to him and kissing your brow.

“My clever little wife. Did anyone try to stop you from sending that battalion? Hm? I’ll hang the next one that speaks out of turn.”

TYRION LANNISTER

You thought his damned sister would have given up after the Battle of Blackwater, but she always seemed ready to ruin the life you and Tyrion made. Luckily, Tyrion had taught you some of her tricks and told you all the men loyal to her. When you began to notice guards changing their patrols and new servants, you did some investigating and found a clumsy assassination plot she cooked up. You dealt with it using your own resources, but you had to tell Tyrion. There may have been something else to her plan. You told him that evening, calmly explaining what you found out and what you did, and you were shocked by how he took your hand and looked so vulnerable.

“You are the sweetest woman the gods could have made. I love you, Y/N … but be careful. Tell me sooner next time. Things aren’t always as they seem with Cersei. I’d tell you I’ll do the rest from here, but I have a feeling that won’t satisfy you.”

JAIME LANNISTER

As much as he changed when he came back from being held prisoner in the North, there were still times when Jaime had that damned Lannister pride. He didn’t like being told to be careful. While you two were travelling to the Riverlands, you were attacked by men still loyal to the North, and you helped Jaime and your guards finish them off. He rounded on you, angry that you put yourself in danger, and you argued back that he needed the help. You even saved him from a blow that came far too close. You two fumed apart for a while, and it wasn’t until several days later that he visited you in the evening. He wrapped his arms around you, careful with his gold hand, and leaned on you.

“Next time just let me take the blow. I mean it. I don’t want anything happening to you because of me, Y/N. I couldn’t live with myself.”

SANDOR CLEGANE

You didn’t usually go this far from the village, but some of your sheep had wandered off and this war meant you couldn’t afford to lose a single one. You were shocked to come across a giant of a man who was battered within an inch of his life. At your insistence, the men of the village helped get him to your house, where you looked after him for several days. Everyone said you were wasting your time, that he was some criminal on the run or he’d surely die anyway. He ended up being disoriented as all hell when he woke up, and he didn’t talk for some time. It was like helping a wild animal. It took several evenings before he finally spoke to you.

“.... You shoulda just left me, girl. Let me die out on those rocks. Would’ve done the world a favor. Did watchin’ sheep get boring, so ya thought to bring in a mangy fuckin’ dog?”

BRONN

The stubbornness of men was astounding, but especially Bronn’s. You and him were coming home from a wild evening at an inn, and while you usually stayed in their best rooms, he had a sudden whim to take you in your room at the Red Keep and nothing was going to stop him. The only thing that kept this stupid plan going is the fact you were just as drunk and agreed to it. Some thief that had no idea who you both were tried to stop you, and Bronn didn’t bother to draw his sword, laughing the man off. You were the one who noticed the dagger gleaming off the moon, and you swiftly knocked the man over with a bottle before he could attempt the attack. That helped sober you up, but Bronn insisted there was no danger.

“What, ‘course I brought my sword. No sense in wasting it on street rats like that. I had it under control, sweet, ya know I did. Still a good hit. Don’t think I’ve seen ya swing like that, remind me to stay on ya good side.”

PETYR BAELISH

While you and Petyr had your little flirtations and secrets - him often underestimating your cleverness and being pleasantly surprised each time - he didn’t expect much from it. He rarely trusted, after all. It’s what led to him being so stunned when he found out you foiled an assassination on attempt on him. It was months ago, and you said nothing, and he had known nothing. Petyr not knowing something for that long was a rare thing, indeed, and it only made him more intrigued. He found himself thinking of you more, and began “chancing” upon you more often in the Red Keep, trying to get your attention.

“Lady Y/N, what a coincidence to see you here, but good timing. Do you recall our conversation some months ago, at the gala for the King’s name day? There’s no need to be so modest about it. I think a lady of your talents is a rare and precious thing, don’t you think?”

STANNIS BARATHEON

You knew your husband was going to face opposition from the Lannisters, but you figured it would be on the battlefield, not through an assassination. You followed the rumors and sent your own men to deal with it. It was troublesome, but you eventually linked the assassin to the Lannisters. You didn’t want to trouble Stannis with such a thing, especially since you’d handled it so quietly. It wasn’t even a week before he barged in your parlor. You weren’t sure what was more startling, his uncharacteristically loud entrance, or how he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close.

“You should have told me, Y/N, you shouldn’t have done it on your own. If something went wrong, and something happened … They could have easily made you their target, instead. What if it was a trap? Tell me next time …”

DAVOS SEAWORTH

You were very fond of the old knight, so it was a non-issue to help him distribute Stannis’ letters of Joffrey’s illegitimacy. You and your guards helped him through some of the safer land routes, but it wasn’t long before the Lannisters caught wind of what you were doing. One of the Lannister soldiers slipped through your guard, and you shocked Davos when you rode in front of him and parried the man away with your sword, like you had been taught. He was impressed and grateful, and while he told you as much, he still gave some caution about throwing yourself in front of danger like that.

“It’s a good thing ya did, Lady Y/N, I’ll be telling King Stannis about it when I get back … Of course I’m serious. Doesn’t sit right with me for a lady like yourself risking her life.”

MARGAERY TYRELL

After Renly had been killed, there was absolute chaos in his camp. You noticed Margaery through the darkness and hastily pulled her away before two soldiers on warhorses could trample her. They didn’t even seem to care that they nearly killed two ladies. You helped guide her back to her brother and their soldiers, pulling her into the Tyrell wheelhouse yourself. Once she calmed herself from the madness of the night, Margaery couldn’t believe someone would go out of their way to help her like that. You didn’t even come with her, or tell her your family name, so it’s not as though you were expecting a reward. Once she took her place in King’s Landing, she insisted to her grandmother that they find out who you were. She was trying not to let her excitement show when she learned you were in King’s Landing for your own business, and she could finally meet you.

“There’s my knight in silks. What? I think it’s a perfectly appropriate name. There were plenty of so-called men who were content to leave me to die or be captured. I think it’s only right you should get a reward, but before that, we should talk. I have so much I’ve wanted to tell you.”

BRYNDEN TULLY

You were sure that you were in shock, or dreaming, but the soaking wet, exhausted and injured man that turned up on your keep’s gates was right here in front of you. You realized who he was by the armor, and sent your men away while you tended to his wounds through the whole night. It had to be secret that he was here, and that was especially true once morning came and you heard about the “wedding” at the Twins. Just when you entered his room to bring him food and more medicine, he was already getting up and trying to leave. You tried to convince him to stay, that he wasn’t fit for travel, but he was surprisingly firm in spite of his terrible state.

“I owe you more than my life, Lady Y/N, but I can’t stay here. I need to get back to Riverrun, I have to. You’ll be in serious danger, too, if they found out you helped. The less I say and the faster I’m gone, the better.”

EDMURE TULLY

He really thought he was finished on this battlefield, that he’d be lucky to be captured. It seemed he just didn’t have the numbers to take on this number of Lannister soldiers, even if he had strong, capable men on his side. Then reinforcements arrived, seemingly out of nowhere. He wasn’t about to question his good fortune at that moment, but after the battle he pointedly asked the new arrivals who sent them. Back at the camp, he found you, a Lady who convinced her family to support the North and sent troops as fast as she could. Edmure couldn’t help but admire your courage, and insisted you come with him to Riverrun to speak with Robb.

“There’s no need to be modest. You saved us today, Lady Y/N, we would’ve been overrun without the reinforcements. You’ll be my guest, I insist.”

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Brienne had saved your skin more times than you could count, and she always said it was her duty (and because she loved you so much). That was fine and dandy, but you still felt that you owed her in some way. You didn’t want to be the helpless Lady that she was always pulling out of trouble. You got your opportunity sooner than you wanted. A gang of kidnappers took you both off guard in the street, and the last man had gotten a lucky strike. You picked up a rock and struck him hard, and it distracted him enough for Brienne to deliver a finishing blow. He’d seriously hurt her, but her anger and concern took precedence.

“Y/N! What in the seven hells possessed you to pick up a rock - don’t argue, I know it looks bad, but I had it! You should have run! I told you, I had it. … … Yes, fine, it hurts like hell, but that doesn’t mean you can put yourself in danger.”

RAMSAY SNOW

You couldn’t count how many times you told Ramsay that, no, you didn’t want to see how many poor souls he had captured and what he was going to do to them. But sometimes it paid off to humor him for a few minutes, especially if it meant he’d leave you be later on. You hadn’t noticed one of the prisoners had gotten free until he jumped on Ramsay and was fighting with him on the ground. You panicked and picked up one of the candlesticks, hitting the man several times until Ramsay got the upper hand and threw him off. He took the candlestick from you and knocked the man senseless, then tossed it aside, quickly taking your shaking hands into his own bloody ones.

“Y/N, my sweet Y/N, that was very good. You did so well! I knew you loved me. Would you have killed him for me? Hm? I would have liked to see that. He isn’t finished yet, you know.”

ROOSE BOLTON

Not every Lord rode with their men into battle, let alone a Lady, but this was the North and it was in the midst of a war. You were sent by King Robb to bolster Lord Bolton’s numbers, and you got there just in time, in the midst of an ambush. After assisting his men in fending off the Lannister soldiers, you and Lord Bolton were able to dismount and talk properly. He gave you a cordial thanks, speaking to you as if this was the court and not a bloody battlefield, but you didn’t miss the distinct way his cold eyes were glinting in the sun. Even if he didn’t say it, you were sure he was impressed.

“Impeccable timing, Lady Y/N. You’ve done my men and I a great service. Once the camp is established we’ll have a chance to speak properly. It’s a shame it took a war for us to meet.”

OBERYN MARTELL

As dear as Oberyn was to you, you had to admit his temper could be so boyish. There were some men that just made him reach for his dagger, and it was usually the men not knowing how to act properly around his lover. He’d started a huge fight in the brothel as a result, and a much bigger man tackled him to the ground and knocked his dagger from his hand. You hastily grabbed a bottle and knocked it over the man’s head, then kicked him off while he was dazed. Oberyn jumped to his feet, picked you up and hastily got you away from the danger. He didn’t care that he left such a fine dagger behind.

“I knew my sweet Y/N wasn’t such a lamb after all. That was a good swing, my love, a shame about the wine, it was … What? That rat deserved it.”

BERIC DONDARRION

You joined a few Brotherhood scouts and their unusual leader on what was supposed to be scouting and retrieving supplies, but a wrong turn ended up with you all stumbling upon Lannister soldiers. You were shocked at a few reckless moves Beric made, and finally you just had to put yourself between him and a soldier in spite of the weight and power the man had on you. You cut him open well enough, but you were quick to turn on Beric and scold him for being so careless. He did apologize, but you were still fuming at the campfire that evening.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’ll say it as many times as you want. You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that, especially for a man like me … let me show you why.”

GENDRY

He used to see you as a meddling girl that followed him around too much. That changed when someone’s near-mad horse was frightened and it went tearing through the small cobbled streets. You two surely would’ve been trampled by it, young as you were, and you reacted quickly. You shoved Gendry hard out of the way and cowered down as the horse ran around you. Once he was back up, Gendry shook and scolded you, in disbelief that anyone would bother caring about him like that. Right then he made a promise to protect you, and for years afterward he was always a reliable, protective presence in your life.

“Y/N, remember when I said I’d protect you years ago? ‘Course I still mean it, you just never get into trouble - that’s a good thing! Don’t do somethin’ stupid just ‘cause to see if I’ll come runnin’. You know I will.”

#game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #got imagines #posting in my nun coord bc thats the kind of day its been

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years

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Hell to Pay: Chapter Forty-Three

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: trigger warnings for suggested abortions

Sitting still and being patient was driving Lev nuts, but he watched Cameron anxiously. He’d been told he was well enough today to see Eden, and while he waited for Nate to bring Eden over, he fidgeted anxiously. Nik hadn’t gotten out of bed either, and was curled into Lev. Lev petted his hair lightly, just to have something to do.

Shrieks of laughter announced Eden’s presence long before Nate appeared in the doorway. When she saw Lev, she kicked excitedly, babbling out a quick, “DaDaDaDa.”

Unexpectedly Lev’s eyes welled up. “She- she’s saying my name,” he said, sitting up enough he dislodged Nik.

Nik whined at him. Lev patted his hair, but reached out for Eden.

The moment Eden was in Lev’s lap, she smacked his face. Lev caught her hands even as she babbled angrily at him.

“I’m sorry bitty girl,” Lev said gently. In retaliation, she headbutted him. “Eden!” Lev scolded, touching his nose. At that her eyes filled with black tears, and she started crying. Lev switched gears immediately, tucking her close.

“You know she’s manipulating you, yes?” Cameron asked dryly.

“After being gone for four months, I think she’s entitled,” Lev mumbled, pressing a kiss to Eden’s hair. “I’m right here, baby. Did you miss me?”

Her little nails dug into his skin, but Lev just hummed. “Did Cameron send your clothes?” Lev asked, pointedly not looking in Cameron’s direction. “Someone needs to get some color for your wardrobe.”

“Like yours is any better,” Cameron replied.

Lev looked down at his black hoodie and grey tee shirt. “Fair,” Lev admitted. “But I was making attempts. My sweaters are colorful. Nik picked them out.”

“Exactly. Nik did.”

“I picked out the bear pyjamas. Which I still can't find, by the way.” Lev’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

“And you’ll never find them,” Cameron said without mercy. When Lev stuck his tongue out at him, all Cameron said was, “Careful.”

Lev hummed once more, and returned his attention to Eden.

---

Ash showed up a few hours later with the intentions of checking both Nik and Lev over, especially after he had allowed Nate to bring Eden for Lev to see. He had waited for Nate to bring the little hellion back before heading that way.

Unsurprisingly he found them in Lev’s bed. Ash leaned against the bedroom doorway, watching how Nik was curled into Lev as close as he could possibly get. He wasn’t going to keep that up for long if he was planning on keeping the fetus. Or if he wasn’t planning on telling either Cameron or Lev, even if he did suspect Cameron had his suspicions.

He debated on waiting to see if Lev would wake for their appointment but decided to go talk to Cameron in the kitchen instead. As much as Cameron irritated him, he couldn’t help but appreciate just how nice Cameron’s kitchen was. The sleek black marble and appliances to match contrasted deeply against Cameron’s moonwhite skin and even paler hair.

Cameron seemed to be skillfully chopping up vegetables at the kitchen island in pure silence and did not even look up when he gave a firm, “Sit.”

Ash fought the urge to turn around and leave right then, instead he sat across from the ass and swiped an apple for his troubles. He bit down into it and looked at him. “So.”

Cameron sliced into the broccoli deliberately before looking up at him. “What.”

Ash hummed for a long moment, mostly just to waste Cameron’s time. “We, uh, gonna keep trading one word sentences? Or?”

Cameron held direct eye contact while he resumed his slicing. “Well?”

“How was Lev with Eden, today?” he asked, knowing Cameron was going to keep being a petty petulant dick until Ash got to his point.

Cameron went back to chopping up his vegetables. “He stayed in bed for the whole duration. When he started to get exhausted I had Nate take Eden and leave. He’s been sleeping since they left. As has Nik.”

Ash thrummed his fingers along the black marble. “And how has Nik been?”

Cameron put down the knife and leaned forward on his delicate hands. “Why don’t we skip the part where we pretend you don't know I already know,” he suggested flatly. “Stop wasting my time.”

Ash took another bite from his apple. “What was it that tipped it off? The drinking comment or the Nik being overly emotional?”

Cameron lifted a slight brow. “Nik is always being overly emotional,” he replied, “and you’ve never tried cutting back his drinking until now. So I wouldn’t say you were being all that subtle.”

“Subtlety is not my forté,” Ash said. “And I wasn’t sure if you maintained the brain cells to catch my drift.”

“No worries,” Cameron said, going back to resuming his work, “I know you aren’t capable of commonsense thinking. Of course you wouldn’t realize that I am more intelligent than you.” he flicked Ash a look. “In more ways than one.”

Ash bit his tongue to stop from raising to that bait. “Do you know who the father is?” he asked.

Cameron hesitated so slightly Ash almost did not catch it. “I am.”

“That’s not-”

Cameron gave him a dark look. “I said I am.”

The clipped tone had Ash raising his hands in defense. “Fine. Does Nik know you know?”

Cameron picked back up with a silky smoothness that had a chill running down Ash’s spine. “No. He does not want me knowing, so I’m going to play ignorance and pretend that it’s not painfully obvious.”

“That’s rather kind of you,” Ash observed.

“No,” Cameron said. “It’s a waste of my time to make him upset by confronting him about it when I can just wait until he wants to tell me. He only has a finite amount of time to tell me before he either starts showing or decides to terminate it.”

Ash could tell he was telling the truth, for the most part. Even if there was just the slightest flutter that suggested otherwise. Cameron was most likely as well adept at lying as Bay or Nik. Possibly quite more if he lived and breathed court life for five hundred years.

It was then that Lev shuffled into the kitchen with his IV stand in tow. He still looked a bit groggy, but he was awake. Cameron peered narrowly at Lev, but it was Ash that said, “Did you come here without an escort?”

Lev blinked owlishly at them both. “One of the sentries followed me.” he said, moving to sit in one of the chairs.

“I should have made it clear,” Ash said. “When I said I wanted you walking with someone, I meant either Cameron or myself or Amara or someone that isn’t hired help like the sentries.”

Cameron pointed at Lev with his knife. “Never do that again, understood?”

“Okay,” Lev said. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to wake up Nik.”

“How much has Nik been sleeping?” Ash asked, either of them.

“He sleeps whenever Lev sleeps,” Cameron said.

He looked to Lev for confirmation. “What do you say?”

Lev looked a little guilty. “I’ve been sleeping a lot,” he admitted. “I don’t have much else to do.”

It was Cameron that said, “If you’d prefer, I could have you do tasks for me here in the kitchen. Keep you alert. Nothing too difficult.”

Like Cameron was going to let Lev do anything of substance in his kitchen.

“I’d like that,” Lev said, quietly.

It was then that Nik decided to drag his carcass out of the bedroom and come plop down next to Lev. His hair was a mess and he was wearing sweats and a loose black shirt. He snaked his hand into Lev’s and pressed his forehead against Lev’s shoulder. “You left,” he mumbled, still half asleep.

Lev kissed his temple. “You were sleeping.”

“So?” Nik said, petulantly. “You were too.”

“And then I wasn’t.”

Nik groaned and lightly bit Lev’s shoulder before moving back to the counter. He palmed his eyes and looked tiredly at Ash. “I’m guessing you’re here to mother us?”

“Something like that,” Ash said.

Lev gently smacked Nik’s shoulder. “Nik.”

Nik jutted out his bottom lip at Lev. “What?” he mumbled. “He’s always doing that. I’m allowed to call him out on being overbearing for the last nineteen years of my life.”

“He worries about you,” Lev said. “And so do I.”

Nik muttered under his breath and went back to pressing his forehead against Lev’s shoulder. Lev looked back to Ash. “Other than the sleeping, I think I’ve been doing better. I haven’t thrown up in almost a day now.”

Now that was interesting.

“Well I’m glad,” Ash said, finally. “Let’s keep it that way.”

---

Ash waited until it was just him and Lev in the bedroom before deciding to question him further, and to scold him as well. He had helped Lev into bed and had forced Nik out of the room, and had Cameron keep him busy so Ash could work with Lev in peace.

“Cameron said you stayed in bed when seeing Eden?” Ash said, more in asking for confirmation while we went about starting with Lev’s vitals.

Lev nodded. “She was a little mad,” he said, amusement shading his sheepish tone.

“I can imagine,” Ash said, wryly. “She did not make it easy for Bay and Nate. Imagine that little beast at full speed nonstop for the last four months.” On top of a newborn, who luckily, has been well behaved for the most part.

That had the undesirable effect of Lev wincing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been there to take care of her.”

“Well,” Ash said, squeezing Lev’s shoulder. “You did what you could. And what you did manage to do, for the most part, stopped her from reigning hell down on my entire family. So.” except for the small part of Lev, well, trying to keep his best friend dead, but considering Lev didn’t have his memories at the moment, he was going to put a pin in that particular bomb.

Lev rubbed at his eyes. “At least I’m back. I can take care of her now.”

“Uh, no,” Ash said. “What you are going to do is not exhaust yourself so you keel over on me. Speaking of. Walking to the kitchen? Alone? See, I remember telling you to do exactly the opposite. And do not try to split hairs with me by saying you had a sentry with you. Like I’d trust a glorified bodyguard to take care of one of my patients. Do something like that again, and I’ll confine your sorry ass to a wheelchair. Then we’ll talk about following orders, Levant.”

“I’m sorry,” Lev said. “I didn’t think about it. It won’t happen again. I don’t wanna die again. Nik needs me.”

“You know you have value outside of what you provide to others, yes?” Ash asked, leaning back. “You can just not wanna die because dying sucks. You don’t need to justify wanting to stay alive.”

Lev looked down at his lap. “I’m sorry,” he said, again. “I don’t know how to change my thinking over night.”

“Well,” Ash said. “Follow my orders and you might just get a hell of a long time to figure out how. Anyways, now that that is hammered into your head, and I am trusting you to not disobey my orders again, tell me how everything went the last few days. Leave nothing out.”

“I kept my last two meals down,” Lev said. “And I’m very tired.”

“Was a three day nap not long enough,” Ash said, with a dry smile. “I’m thinking that should fade soon enough.”

“I’m still cold.”

“Is it painful?” he asked. “Have there been times when your body heat went back to normal?”

“Sometimes,” Lev said. “Nik can rub some warmth into my arms, and baths help, but it always settles back into cold. It’s not hurting me,” he added. “It’s not stopping me from functioning, either. It’s just- cold.”

Ash hummed, thinking. “We can get you some food to produce some natural body heat,” he said. “Maybe it’ll help warm you up and it might jumpstart your body into its regular temperature. Maybe we can also jumpstart a heat…?”

That would definitely jumpstart something.

Lev wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want a heat. Not so soon after losing my baby.”

Ash sighed softly. “I know,” he said. “A heat, even if it’s not being used for reproductive uses like most omegas, or well, just simple intercourse, has many functions that are designed to help your body get back to it’s normal. Some patients who have been sick can have a heat induced to try to get the boost to their immune system that they need in order to get healthy again.”

“I’d still like to wait,” Lev said. “If it’s possible. At least… don’t induce one. Everything’s so weird right now.”

“Alright,” Ash said. “Your body has its own natural defenses. Odds are your body is going to want to keep itself alive on it’s own anyway. But you need to help. And since we’re not inducing a heat, that means we get to change your diet to include some new foods.”

“New foods would be nice,” Lev said. “Everything’s been kind of boring lately. Food included.”

Ash snorted. “Yeah? How do you feel about spices.”

---

Nik was chomping at the bit by the time Ash and Lev came out of the room. When they appeared in the kitchen, Ash’s eyes went for him while Lev went for Cameron’s lap. “Alright,” Ash said. “Your turn.” Nik grumbled and got up and startled for the bedroom, but not before hearing Ash say, “He’s gonna have a new diet. I’ll catch you up later.”

Nik went to plop down on the bed. “They’re going to ask why you keep wanting to see me,” Nik said, eyeing him.

“And I’ll tell them to mind their own business,” Ash retorted, sitting down in front of him. “How are you feeling?”

“I keep throwing up and crying and eating and sleeping all the damn time. Somehow, I turned into Lev overnight and I’d like to stop and go back to being not neurotic., thanks.”

“Well,” Ash said, “You’re pregnant. It’ll be that way for a few months, yet, unless you decide to take further action and terminate.”

That whole exchange scraped against his mind. “I don’t- When do I have to say anything?” Nik gnawed at his bracelets, trying to stop himself from getting worked up at the thought of having that particular conversation with either Lev or Cameron.

Ash lifted a shoulder. “You can start showing between 12 and 16 weeks,” Ash said. “Maybe less. However, you don’t have to say anything. It’s your body and your right to tell people to fuck off where it is concerned.”

Nik grimaced. “I don’t- I can’t have a kid,” Nik said, voice dropping more and more by the second. “Eden is different because I did not push that screaming ball of joy out of my body. And just. It’s not Cameron’s. He would know it’s not his, like he knows everything for some damn reason. What’s he going to do when the kid comes out looking nothing like him? Just because he lacks any kind of pigment does not mean that he’s not going to realize that the kid’s gonna look nothing like him, damn it.”

“Have you considered,” Ash said, irritatingly calm, “that Cameron just would not care?”

“Okay but he’s going to care that I cheated on him with-” Nik’s mouth snapped shut. “He’s going to care.”

“You have your options,” Ash said. “If you want, we can figure something out, but the longer we do nothing, the worse off it’ll be in the long run. You need to be on prenatal vitamins and need to adjust your diet. Especially if you’re getting sick.”

Nik wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Do you want that kid coming out with two heads?” Ash asked. “No, no you do not.”

“I came out with two heads and I’m doing just fine.”

“Nik. Focus.”

Nik folded his arms and slumped back into the bed, sighing tiredly. “What if he makes me go again,” he said, hating how his voice almost broke. “I don’t want to go.” He palmed his eyes when he felt the telltale prickle. He was not going to cry damn it.

“Destris is dead,” Ash said. “You’re going to stay home, wherever home is for you. And right now, he’s probably going to keep you as close as he can. You and Lev.”

Nik snapped up into a sitting position, too startled to focus much on anything but apparently the fact Destris was now dead and once again no one bothered to tell him a damn thing. “I- what? Since when?”

“A soul for a soul,” Ash said, tiredly. “Took his soul to get Lev’s back, I guess. Besides I figured his days were numbered anyway. It’s why Mar bailed on us at the beach.”

Nik curled back into the bed and pressed his face into the pillows. Made sense that Amara would prioritize putting Destris down to get her cousin back over Nik. Seemed everyone was prioritizing Lev over Nik lately. “Are we done now, because I want to go back to sleep.”

Ash put his hand on Nik’s shoulder. He seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it. “I’ll go get Lev for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Nik mumbled.

Ash gave him a final squeeze before getting up and leaving him alone in this irritatingly large bed. He only had a few minutes of quiet tears before he heard them come back towards the bedroom. Nik hastily wiped his eyes just in time for Cameron to carry a comatose Lev into the room.

Lev instantly curled in towards Nik the moment Cameron put him in the bed with him. Cameron watched Nik silently, gaging. “Do you need me to stay?”

“I’m sure you have paperwork or something else important to do,” Nik said, curling in against Lev. “Didn’t you burn your club down or something? Probably already working on the blueprints for a new one.”

“That’s not an answer,” Cameron said, flatly.

“Well it’s the one you’re getting.” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Lev. Maybe if he got lucky he’d have needled Cameron in the right way to get him to leave him alone. But of course it wasn’t his luck because he could feel Cameron’s eye roll directed at him.

A few moments later Cameron was climbing in bed with them, and even if Nik’s omega preened at the contact from his alpha he hadn’t had in months, it didn’t stop the guilt eating at him like acid.

---

It was Nik who woke Lev. He assumed it was for dinner, but when he sat up, Amara was in the doorway. Cameron was behind her, looking somewhat displeased. “Mar?” Lev asked, still half out of it.

“You get five minutes,” Cameron told Amara. “I won’t have you wearing him out.”

“Looks like he’s been sleeping plenty,” Amara said the moment she was out of arm's reach.

In a bored voice, Cameron said, “Sleep does not equate rest.”

Lev rubbed his eyes, and when Amara sat down on the edge of the bed, he leaned into her. She clung to him tightly. The kiss she pressed to his hair was firm. “Missed you,” she mumbled.

“I don’t remember… any of it,” he offered.

“Good. You were a fucking mess.” She pulled back, frowning. “Stars, you smell like roadkill. Minus the rot.”

“Shut up,” Nik said snippily.

“I do?” Lev asked in a small voice. He looked between Nik and Cameron. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been snuggling up with the two of you for days now.”

Cameron shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

“I wouldn’t know to ask if I smell dead,” Lev retorted, distressed.

“It’s fine,” Nik mumbled against his shoulder.

Lev pursed his lips, but looked away from them all. “I don’t know where my phone is,” he told Amara. “Or else I would have called you.”

“It’s fine.” Amara petted his curls. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“As you can see,” Cameron said. “He’s still breathing. You can leave now.”

Lev grabbed her wrist, knowing Cameron could see. “When I get a phone I’ll call you,” he said carefully, “But Cameron’s right. I need rest.”

“Are you accusing me of being non-restful?” Amara asked, pulling Lev’s hair lightly. Before anyone could call her out on it, “Yeah, alright. I’m not. Renee might head over this way,” She added. “Just? Call me? Semi often? Scared the shit out of me, lollygagging for three days. Thought you’d up and die again on me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Amara said, sounding tired. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

Lev nodded, and leaned into the kiss she pressed to the top of his head. “Okay.”

Amara ruffled his hair, pointed a threatening finger in Nik’s direction with a mouthed ‘fucking call me’, and then stood, flouncing past Cameron with a loud, “AIright, alright, I’m going. Out of your hair.”

Nik looked a little resigned.

“I’ll be back,” Cameron said, nodding at Nik as he added, “Keep him entertained.”

Lev looked over to Nik once Cameron was gone. “I’m guessing he didn’t mean the usual way,” Lev said solemnly.

Nik lifted his brows. “I’m guessing not, but I’m not opposed.”

Lev gave a small snort. “Are you ever?” He asked.

Nik gave a tiny smile. “I have my moments.”

Well. Fair. Lev touched Nik’s cheek, pressed their foreheads together. Nik kissed him, soft and hesitant. Lev kissed him back, wrapping his non-IV’d arm around Nik’s neck.

“That’s not resting,” Cameron said from the doorway, startling Lev away from Nik.

Lev blinked. “You said to keep him entertained,” Lev replied sheepishly.

“I did,” Cameron said dryly.

When Lev looked at Nik, he was glowering at Cameron. “Yeah, you said keep me entertained, Cameron.”

“It was just kissing,” Lev promised. “Nothing stressful. Promise.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Lev leaned back into Nik. Nik bit down on Lev’s shoulder. “Is it time for dinner?” Lev asked settling a little more comfortably against Nik.

Cameron watched him. Eventually he said, “It will be soon. I can come get you when it’s ready, unless you want to help.”

Lev shook his head. “Honestly, I’m tired,” he admitted. “I was going to ask if I could eat in bed.”

Cameron pursed his lips. “Alright,” he said quietly. “If you need anything, have one of the sentries come get me.”

“I will,” Lev promised. Once Cameron was gone, Nik curled into Lev. Lev kissed Nik again, before closing his eyes. “Wake me when Cameron comes to get us?” Lev asked sleepily.

“Okay,” Nik replied quietly. He kissed Lev’s forehead, and gave a soft, “Love you.”

Lev blinked hard. “What?” He asked, looking up at Nik.

Nik looked startled. “Um. I love you?”

Something warm bloomed in Lev’s chest. “I love you too,” Lev promised.

Nik kissed Lev’s forehead. “Go to sleep,” he said.

So Lev did, pleased and content.

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @i-want-to-pinch-cams-cheeks @caelisis

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #ch: cameron #ch: ash #ch: nik #hell to pay

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siancore · 4 years

Photo

A/N: This is a collab between @thematsaidwelcome79 and I. It details Rick's return to ASZ after six years of everyone thinking he was dead

Part 1: Prologue by Siancore

Words: 1,986

Warnings: Typical Zombie Apocalypse Violence; Blood; and Gore.

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The cool water slid down Rick’s throat. It hurt a little, as he swallowed too much at once; the reprieve felt almost foreign. He could not remember the last time he had been given something to drink. His captors liked to remind him that being an ingrate in their community did not go unpunished. It was not that Rick was ungrateful for the help, because he truly was. They had saved his life when he was on the brink of death. They had lifted him to safety, and, as they so bluntly put it, wasted valuable resources on him; resources that could have gone to someone else. Someone who would have appreciated the help. Someone who would have wanted to stay and work off the debt that they owed. But Rick Grimes did not want to stay. He wanted to go home to Michonne and Judith; he needed to go home to his family. He was not an ingrate, but rather, a man who wanted to be with his wife and daughter.

That was almost six years ago. Six heartbreaking, lonely years. It crushed his heart just to acknowledge how long it had been. Not a single day passed where he did not miss his girls. Not a single day passed where he had not longed for them; where he wished he had done things differently. Where he wished he would have spent more time with them, and less time at the bridge. Where he hoped and prayed that they were safe. They had to be. He knew Michonne would do everything in her power to make sure they were.

Judith. His precious child whom he swore to always protect. Whom he had hoped to be there with, every step of the way. His daughter who did not deserve this world she was thrust into. He missed her little smile. He missed the way that she felt in his embrace; how she looked at him with such adoration that it caused his heart to swell with pride, and hurt at the same time because all he ever wanted to do was live for her.

Michonne. His heart ached for her, knowing that she most likely thought he had died. She had lost so much, too much. It saddened him deeply that he was putting her through the grief of losing yet another person she loved. He missed the way she felt wrapped in his arms. How her kisses breathed new life into him again and yet again. How she was smart and strong and wanted the best for their little family.

Thoughts of them are what kept Rick going on those harsh days and those long and lonely nights. When he had first arrived, he was unconscious. He spent months in a coma, he was told. They had kept him alive and cared for him. When he had woken, he was disoriented and remembered nothing of what led to him being there.

As time passed, he grew strong, regained his memories, and healed; he recalled seeing all of the people he had cared for. The ones who were long gone, and the ones who were still living. And then that explosion. The destruction of the bridge, and the sacrifice of his life, to save everyone else. When he was feeling particularly low, he would curse himself for giving so much. But then he would regain composure and realize he had done the right thing. He had saved them.

Yet it was not lost on Rick that the cost to himself was great. Though his family was safe, they were without him, and he was without them. That is what fuelled him and his urge to leave the community. When he was well enough to work, they asked him to. Jadis asked him to. Her being allowed to stay, it seemed, was riding on Rick’s cooperation and willingness to toil and sweat as a form of recompense.

He reminded her that he had a family back in Alexandria; this meant very little to her. He knew she was a selfish person, but this was another level of malice. He reminded himself that she should meet a swift end if ever he was afforded to opportunity to do so. With each failed attempt at escape; with each subsequent beating and imprisonment, Rick grew more determined to free himself of the walls of this prison dressed up as civilization. But he needed to be smart. They had locked him away for long enough, now he would convince them he was ready to join the workforce.

Presently, he found himself being given food and water. He would play the grateful prisoner for a time, even agree to work their fields, until it was time for him to make his move. Jadis stood at the other side of the small cell and watched him. He chewed the food slowly, so he did not choke, and hoped it would be enough to give his some physical strength.

“You don’t have to spend the rest of your life in here,” she said. He said nothing. It was the same message she delivered each and every time she visited. “There’s work to be done; debts to be paid, if you’re ready to do what’s needed without trying to get away, they will have you. They will let you out of this shithole.”

Rick washed his food down with the water she brought with her. He then looked up and met her eyes. Determination rose in his aching stomach until it seeped through his tired bones and flowed through his veins. He cleared his throat and said, barely above a whisper, “I’m ready.”

…..

The sun was bright and it burned his eyes. Being locked away in the dark cell did not help to maintain his eyesight. It took a moment to adjust to being outdoors in that daylight again. A guard stayed with Rick while he went to wash up. The dirt and grime fell from his weary body and the cold water rejuvenated him. As he found his bearings, he remembered that the prison cells were near the agricultural fields, and the sprawling community was off in the distance.

Rick slicked his long curls back, and ran his hand over his thick, mostly-white beard. He would not waste time visiting a barber, for half of the day was already gone. Instead, he chose to begin to work the fields. If he did that for a week or so, maybe the powers that be would be more lax with the security detail; maybe they would be fooled into thinking he was ready to repay them for their so-called hospitality and kindness.

…..

With each day that passed, Rick grew stronger. With each day, he was able to take note of the routines of the guards, and identify if there were any structural weaknesses in the walls: There were none, but off in one of the corners, the barrier was low. What he understood of this community was that it was part of a larger network. No one told him where he was in the world; no one told how far he was from home. It was something of a security measure against those whom the community had acquired.

It was the end of another workday, a few weeks into his duties, and Rick was packing away the farming implements and chemicals he was using. The guards’ watchful eyes were never far away, so there was no way he could take one of the tools back to the cells with him. As he brushed his curls from his brow, he had an idea. It just might work, too, he mused, if he could get word to the other prisoners and gain their support. Upon approaching one of the guards, he put forth his request.

“Do you think I’d be able to see the barber tonight?” asked Rick as he ran his hand through his mess of curls. “Didn’t realize how much of a bitch it was to let my hair get so long.”

The guard eyed him, and then nodded his head before saying, “Yeah. Don’t see why not. I’ll send him around after meal time.”

“Thanks,” said Rick as he ambled toward the mess hall to have dinner and spread a few whispers of dissent.

…..

The thing about the prison block in the community was that it was only guarded by two people at any time: One on the inside, and the other at the outer door. It was their own hubris about the fortitude of their infrastructure that accounted for this somewhat relaxed approach. Rick was going to use it to his advantage.

He waited in his cell for the barber to come; upon their arrival, Rick played the willing punter in need of a cut and shave. He backed away from the cell door when the sentry unlocked it, and took up a seat on the stool the barber brought in.

“Yell if you need anything,” said the guard as he closed the door and left the two men inside the cell. Rick noticed it was not locked. They would be foolish to lock someone in there with a prisoner. There was no way they would even entertain letting a prisoner go with a hostage. Luckily, Rick had no intentions of taking a hostage.

“What’d you need?” asked the barber as he sharpened his straight razor on the leather strap attached to his bag.

“Get rid of the beard,” said Rick. “But leave the curls, my wife loves them. She’ll want to run her fingers through them when I break free from this place and find her.”

“Eh?” asked the barber.

As quickly as he grew confused, Rick was on him and had freed the razor from his grasp. He used it to slice it across the barber’s neck. His limp body fell to the dusty floor as the people in the cells next to Rick started yelling and banging on their cages. The guards were back there in no time, one before the other. Rick rammed the freshly sharpened blade into the first guard’s stomach, before disembowelling him. He moved to the next guard and kicked him in the shin, effectively breaking his leg just below the knee. He cried out in pain and dropped to the floor before Rick took the razor from the other guard’s still-writhing corpse, and slit his throat. He searched their bodies for the keys and took one lot for himself, and gave the others to the other prisoners.

Havoc ensued as everyone ran from the block to make their escape. They used chemicals on hand to fuel the fires; they set the cellblock and the crops alight. Some dashed for the fences and ran for the walls. Others wanted retribution for their captivity and were intent on doing as much damage as they could. It took some time before alarms were sounded and the police force came. Rick hid over near one of the tool sheds and watched the chaos unfurl. While the authorities were busy with chasing down escapees and extinguishing fires, Rick crept away to the quiet corner of the yard and scaled the fence in the place where it was lowest.

By the time the fires were put out and the prisoners were either captured or killed, Rick was running furiously through the abandoned streets of the outlying surrounds. He ran until his legs felt like they would give way. He ran until his lungs hurt. He ran until he could no longer smell the smoke from the fires. He ran until his body was so heavy that it collapsed to the soft dirt on the side of a sealed road. He willed himself to stand and figure out where he was. In the moonlight, he was able to see a sign that read: Welcome to Ohio. So much to discover…

#richonne #richonne fanfiction #rick grimes #michonne #michonne grimes

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adarlingwrites · 4 years

Text

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

September 5, 2277.

That night was the night I learned her name.

Business was slow, with only a few customers dragging their feet in. Patchwork stumbles in and tries to get yet another drink. Ahzrukhal wasn’t amused in the slightest, not at all. Patchwork’s tab already exceeded what he deemed acceptable. So, he turned to me.

“Charon?”

“Yes.”

“Teach our friend Patchwork here a lesson.”

“As you command.”

The poor bastard tried to backpedal away when I advanced on him and grabbed him by the collar. I dragged him out the door, and without warning, threw him over the balcony. The ghouls beneath steered clear, knowing better than to intervene. As I went down the stairs to torment him further, he tried screaming for help, but nobody came. This is our normal.

As I walked over to break his fingers, a shout rang from Tulip’s shop. The voice isn’t a ghoul’s.

“Whoa, what the hell?!”

It’s Vaultie, holding a baseball bat and running towards us. The kid had stuck a few bits of armor over that stupid bright blue jumpsuit and a rusty assault rifle lie holstered on her back. She still hasn't discarded the bright red cap, though, and her dark hair was tied in a loose bun. Still a combat hazard.

“Smoothskin,” Tulip rasps, running after her. “Don’t. It’s better you stay out of it.”

She whirls to the ghoulette. “Why would I? You’re telling me you guys just let people get beaten up in the open around here?”

“Keep your voice down, Percy,” Tulip warns, placing a rotting hand on Vaultie’s forearm, and Vaultie didn’t flinch when the ghoulette touched her.

So, her name is Percy. Sounds right for a rough little tomboy like her, but I have no reason to say that out loud. I stayed silent.

“Charon doesn’t act on his own accord. He’s under Ahzrukhal’s orders.”

The kid brushes Tulip off, but the action is without malice or disgust. I was in the middle of pulling Patchwork’s middle finger off when she barged over. “Hey. What did he do to deserve that?”

“Not your business,” I grunted, dropping the finger to the ground. “Talk to Ahzrukhal.”

“Hhhrkn- I asked for ‘nother drink but I forgot I didn’t pay my tab,” Patchwork gurgles, limply hanging as my free hand held his arm up.

“All that for a bar tab?” Percy remarks, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the bat harder. “How much does he owe?”

“Ask Ahzrukhal.”

That bleeding heart of hers will get her killed one day, but I felt some relief as she ran up the stairs and into the Ninth Circle. I stopped beating up the sorry drunk and hauled him back up to the bar. Inside, Percy had her palms pressed against the bartop. Ahzrukhal has a smug look plastered on his face as he counts caps.

“Well ma’am, it’s certainly enough to cover Patchwork’s tab here, yes.”

Vaultie turns her back from the bastard and looks at Patchwork, then to me. “You heard him. I’ll take him to Doc Barrows.”

“Oh, and Charon?” Ahzrukhal rasped with that grin that I wanted to punch off of his damn face.

“Yes?”

“Give Patchwork a parting jab.”

"Very well."

I can’t disobey. My fist connected with the drunk’s face and the only satisfaction I can get out of it is from imagining it was Ahzrukhal’s. Percy, quick on her feet, caught him before his body could hit the floor, setting him on one of the chairs.

“You’re quite an ass, Mister Ahzrukhal, you know that?” The glare she was giving him made my fingers itch for my shotgun out of reflex. Ahzrukhal is my contract holder, so if Vaultie here rips his throat out with her teeth like the provoked animal that she looked like at the moment, I’d be forced to shoot her down.

“Miss, let me make some things clear here,” Ahzrukhal starts, holding a shiny cap against the light. “This is my bar, and I will do as I please to keep my establishment free from riffraff. Patchwork here is one of them, and I will utilize Charon if necessary to remind him that I do not tolerate such things. Perhaps this will serve as a lesson the next time he tries to drink without pay.”

The vaultie only scoffed in response and hauled the bleeding ghoul to his feet and supported him with one shoulder. How she could not gag after breathing in the combined smell of rot, blood, and alcohol from Patchwork is beyond me.

“Utilize? You make him sound like a… like a machine,” she mutters in disbelief. She doesn’t even flinch when Patchwork bleeds on her relatively clean jumpsuit; her eyes were trained on my employer.

“We are not having this conversation about Charon again, Miss.”

“Whatever. You’ll have your day of reckoning.”

Those words sounded like fucking music to my ears. Yes, he will, I thought to myself. Vaultie has guts, I’ll give her that.

It almost makes me want to like her.

As she left, I returned to my usual corner. “Feisty girl,” Ahzrukhal pipes up as he neatly lines up his caps in the cash register. “You know, Charon, that girl has been rooting around for information on how to obtain your contract.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

September 14, 2277.

Within the span of two weeks, Percy is becoming a regular sight in Underworld. I heard the patrons talking about how she would come to trade with Tulip with the items she scavenged from the Wasteland. How she can find all those supplies is a mystery. Maybe she’s just born lucky. At night, she spends an hour in the Ninth Circle despite her dislike for Ahzrukhal, smiles and waves at me as she leaves, but I don’t acknowledge her, and the little frown she makes when I ignore her tells me about her dismay.

Tonight, she walks in the Ninth Circle with new gear and a bag of caps. She finally got rid of that ridiculous blue jumpsuit and the red cap, switching to a dark, form-fitting armor. I can’t put my finger on it, but my brain itches further the more I look at her. Then I see it, the red star behind her nape against the black.

It stirs something in my decrepit mind.

Gunfire, smoke, powder. Snow. A foreign language I can’t understand-

A bark from Ahzrukhal snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Charon. Get your thumb of out your ass. I said, accompany Miss 101 out of Underworld.”

Percy is bristling at him, glasses sliding to the tip of her nose. “You said a thousand caps, you rat bastard.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, Charon’s contract is far more valuable to me than a thousand caps. Unless, you want to reconsider the offer I gave you previously?” the fucker rasped, mockery dripping from his voice.

“Screw you,” Percy spits at him, gathering her caps. She walks away, shoulders tense as I follow her out of the bar.

“No need to throw me over the balcony, big guy. I’m going,” she snaps at me. Big guy. That was the first time she used that nickname.

With her back turned on me, I follow the curve of her spine down to her legs with my eyes and regret doing so. The previous itch I had in my brain when I see her armor-clad body is replaced with something more primal. Fuck, how old is this kid? If there was any doubt on whether I was going to burn in hell, it’s gone.

Then, the conditioning kicks in, and I tear my eyes away from her. No time for thinking. No time for imagining. Follow your orders.

Flailing and cursing when I carried her over my shoulder, she uselessly beat my back with her fists as I started carrying her out of the city. The onlookers knew better than to get involved, as usual. Ironic, how she intervened on behalf the well-being of one of Underworld’s citizens, yet they didn’t grant her the same courtesy. Later, I’d learn that this is just the beginning of her tendency to get into one-sided dealings, where everyone else just takes from her.

“Hey! Get your hands off me, my legs still fucking work,” she growls, trying to break free from my grip.

“Can’t you hear me?” she asks again as we are halfway through the concourse. “Oh, right. Ahzrukhal doesn’t like you talking to us strangers. Figures.” She stopped beating my back and just pressed her elbow against my shoulder and propped her face up with her hand. From an outsider’s point of view, we probably looked amusing.

Willow, the city sentry, lets out a tut when I tossed Percy out the door like a ragdoll, and she landed on her ass.

“Pissed Ahzrukhal off, tourist?”

“Yep. I’ll be back,” Percy hisses, rubbing the sore spot on her body. Again, I regret looking. I should’ve just slammed the door right there. “I just need another thousand freakin’ caps.”

“Good luck with that,” Willow chuckles, and resumes her patrol.

With Vaultie gone, the usual peace and quiet came back, save for the crackle of the radio on Ahzrukhal’s bartop. The usual music ends, and a news broadcast comes in.

“Men and ladies, boys and girls, prepare to be astounded, bedazzled, and otherwise stupefied! I am Three Dog, your master of ceremonies! Seems we've got - dadadadada - a bit of news, Just listen to this!”

Just great. What settlement got fucked over by raiders now?

“Remember that kid from Vault 101? Apparently, she ran into some trouble with what little law they had in Megaton. The gal beat the proprietor of the local saloon, Colin Moriarty, to death, with a baseball bat. Whaaat?! But wasn’t this the same gal who deep-sixed the live atomic bomb in the center of town out of the kindness of her heart? Why did she murder one of the town’s residents? Well, here’s the catch! When town sheriff Lucas Simms came to apprehend her, the bar employees came to Miss 101’s defense and claimed she was protecting one of them from the owner’s brutal beating. Hey, you stepped in when you thought it was necessary, 101. Some folks would rather turn their heads away at the sight of injustice, but you didn’t. No judgment here. And now, for some music.”

Huh.

For the next few hours, images of her danced behind my eyes. I imagined Percy executing Ahzrukhal with a baseball bat, just like she did to that other bar owner in the news. Me putting a boot print on his face and Percy smashing his shelf of Centaur piss while the worm whined. Unloading shotgun shells into Ahzrukhal’s ugly mug as Percy poured alcohol all over the countertop and setting it on fire. All of it involves ending Ahzrukhal in a variety of satisfying ways with the vaultie at my side. It’s a dangerous pastime. I should not feel any attachment to anyone but my employer. The contract holder has my absolute loyalty, but she’s not that person.

I really want to like her.

September 16, 2277.

When she returned two days later with a thousand more caps, I decided that I do.

Percy, brimming with enthusiasm, walked over to my corner, and before I could dismiss her, she held out my contract, my paper soul, right in front of my eyes. Then, she speaks.

“Slow down, big guy,” she chuckled, smiling. That damn smile again. “I have good news. I’m your new employer.”

It was good fucking news indeed.

“You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal? So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know,” I tell her, barely containing the relief in my voice.

“Please, wait here. I must take care of something.” A knowing smile spreads across my new employer’s lips as I whip out my shotgun.

“Ahzrukhal, I was told that I was no longer in your service,” I rasp, a pleasant sensation blooming in my chest.

“That’s right, Charon. Have you come to say goodbye?”

There it is again, the fucking mocking tone in his voice. Knowing how much he pissed Percy off, he’s probably planning something, the fucking cheat. My new employer would probably turn up dead and face first in the dirt as soon as I stopped watching her. I can’t let that happen.

“Yes.”

Two blows to the head. I unloaded two shells on that asshole, one to kill him, and one out of spite. It felt fantastic. My hands were still shaking when I returned my shotgun to its holster.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Percy saunters over, eyes wide, and takes in all the carnage before her. She whistled and pats my arm almost too affectionately.

“Wow. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

#lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #fallout charon #charon fallout #oc: percy zhou #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout 3 #fallout 3 fanfic #fallout #fallout fanfic #writers on tumblr

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emmejo26 · 4 years

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Short Story

Hi all! Below is a short story I’ve had playing through my head for a while now, inspired by some of the books/movies/Webtoons I’ve been into lately. Now I am in NO way a writer so I’m sure there is A LOT of room for improvement. But I just felt like I just had to get it all down before the imagery left my head. That being said, I would love your feedback and constructive criticism (just go easy on me, I’m new to putting myself out here like this). Thanks!

....

As a member of the Costa’s clan, life for Will had been fairly simple. He was known as The Devil to all that feared him, a lethal predator with no remorse or feeling. Until he met a girl, that is. Tessa turned his whole world upside down and now he couldn’t dream of letting her go. But to be involved with any clan is to have a target on your back. A rival clan, the Volkov’s, sought to exploit this new weakness in Will and kidnapped Tessa. Below is the story of how The Devil got his angel back.

Hour 1

“She’s gone”.

And with those two little words, my world began to fracture.

Immediately a million what-if scenarios started running through my head.

What if they don’t want to make a deal? What if there is information that we don’t have? What if it’s not who we thought it was?

What if they hurt her?

No. I can’t start thinking like that. It would unravel me. And I needed to be whole, focused. Lethal.

I would find the monsters that took her from me, and I would make them all regret ever touching her.

I would make them all pay. Every last one of them.

“Boss…”, Ryan’s tentative voice breaks me from my murderous thoughts. “What’s our plan?”.

“It’s time to have a chat with our little friend, Nicolai.”

And with that, we head straight to the car.

I’m going to find you, angel. Hold on.

Hour 48

We’ve had quite the productive chat with Nicolai. Took him a little while to loosen up, but eventually we couldn’t get him to shut up. Normally our methods aren’t so barbaric, but we just don’t have time for our typical finesse. She was out there somewhere, all alone, with only her twisted captors for company.

I’m coming, angel. Hold on just a little bit longer.

Hour 52

With every last detail triple checked and confirmed by the clan’s database, we finally had a location.

Our plan was simple: send in a small team and get Tessa out. All that mattered was getting my angel out of the hell I’d inadvertently placed her in.

I can’t believe I was so stupid as to put her in danger in the first place. I know better. Being with me is like having a target on your back. I know better and yet here we are. From the moment I met her, I knew I wanted to know more of her. For the first time in years, I felt happy, hopeful. And it was all thanks to her. She made me feel.

One way or another, I will get her out.

Hour 53

Our team was truly small: Ryan, Peter and me. They are only two people I trust with my life. We’d been through it all together. These were the only men I’d trust to do what needed to be done: get her out, no matter what.

The organization that had taken Tessa has been keeping her right under our noses. We knew Volkov Industries was involved but we never thought they’d use one of their own office buildings for their perverse sale of flesh.

The three of us crept silently through the now empty hallways. Having to wait until normal business hours ended had been pure torture. We were so close now. I’m coming for you, Tess.

Methodically, we checked each room we came upon. Our little friend Nicolai had given us the building, but he hadn’t had the slightest idea where she was being kept inside. The minutes seemed to tick by, more quickly than I would have liked. I couldn’t let her sit here, trapped, for one hour more.

A singular thought keeps racing through my mind: what if they hurt her?

It’s that thought followed by the sweet promise of death to those that took her, that propels my feet forward. I would make this right.

For her, I would do anything.

It’s been about 30 minutes since we entered the building, and I’m starting to question our information. Sure, Volkov Industries is a huge complex, but to have been here this long and to have come this far without running into a single sentry is highly suspect.

If Nicolai lied to us about this, I’m going to choke out what little life he has left.

I’m about to signal the boys to stop and regroup when I hear the soft thud of footsteps heading our way. We duck into an empty room and wait for the group to pass. Looks like we found some of our missing sentries.

As they pass, I overhear their small talk:

“Last I heard, he was getting impatient. I think he thought the Costa’s would come for her sooner.”

“I heard that he’s getting so impatient, he might have some fun with her before he sells her tonight! She is quite a looker.”

“Oh! That would really send The Devil over the edge! I wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out!”

The rage that has been quietly simmering inside me for the last two days has now reached its boiling point.

I look to my team and can see the comprehension in their eyes: this group will be the first to die tonight.

A preternatural calmness schools my features into a mask of arrogance as I casually lean on the door frame.

“Looks like I’m about to make your wish come true, boys”, I smile sardonically.

The look of pure terror in their eyes fuels my rage and my body instinctively begins the dance of death, my men following close behind.

We make quick work of the group, each of us moving with precision in this perfectly choreographed dance. One by one, bodies dropped until only one man remained. I regain my composure and stalk over to the lone survivor.

As expected, he cowers in the corner and begins begging for his life. This was the arrogant fuck who had made the comment about wanting to see The Devil go over the edge. Fucking idiot.

We quickly got the man to shut his mouth with the false promise we’d let him live so long as he told us what we needed to know. Again, fucking idiot. The Devil shows no mercy.

Faster than I would have expected, the sentry gave us the location within the building where Tessa was being kept. Being a better man than I am, Peter swiftly puts a bullet in the man’s head. He’s definitely the better man; The Devil would have made him suffer. One look from Ryan reminds me we that don’t have time and I immediately jump into action.

I’m coming, angel. I’m almost there.

Hour 54

After what feels like an eternity of stair climbing, we begin to hear the sounds of life we’ve so desperately been searching for. By the number of voices we can hear behind the door, there is certainly a large group gathered here. All expecting a show, I’m sure.

If it’s a show they want, it’s a show I’ll give them. It just won’t be the one they were expecting.

Ryan, Peter and I quickly and quietly decide on our next move. We still don’t know exactly where in the room Tessa is being held. Anything we do now could potentially jeopardize her life even more and I refuse to act rashly. Even though every bone in my body is screaming to give The Devil control.

This is it. The time for vengeance has come. They will soon remember how I received my name.

**Power is cut. The building plunges into darkness. A quiet hush fills the room. Three devils enter. And so again begins the dance of death.**

**Gunshots start. Panicked screams now fill the space. Disgusting men with fat wallets try to flee as their bodyguards fall to the ground. The power begins to flicker to life while one devil breaks from the group, unnoticed. Find Tessa. That’s all that matters.**

I am vaguely conscious of Peter slinking off to the connecting room. Good. Find her. Keep her safe. I’ll keep doing what I do best: death.

I drown out their screams and keep moving forward: aim, shoot, aim shoot, reload. A never-ending cycle, sure to continue as long as The Devil lives.

With the lights now back up and running, I can fully see all that we’ve done. There were more people here than we anticipated. Most of the suits have managed to get out by now but we were able to take out a few. I don’t see the bastard that orchestrated this sick sale, though. He must have gotten out. Or maybe he wasn’t here at all, just a master puppeteer controlling his many puppets.

But we’ll find him. The Devil always finds them in the end.

I don’t linger long on that thought, I just keep shooting, almost as if in a trance.

Until I hear her, the voice of my angel.

Hour 55

“Will.”

I’ve just dropped yet another body when my eyes lock with hers from across the room. I can’t bring myself to look away, even to assess if she’s been hurt. To my surprise, I see no fear or disgust in her eyes. Just…relief? Concern?

She let’s go of Peter’s hand and begins the slow walk through the room. Our eyes remained locked.

I watch in awe as this angel steps gingerly around the fallen bodies and pooling blood, as if she were merely walking around rain puddles.

Peter and Ryan have started the process of weeding out those still alive and ending their misery.

After what feels like an eternity, Tessa finally stands in front of me. Now that I can see her clearly, I find no trace of repulsion in her features. Surely this angel must hate me for all the death I’ve dealt, for the monster inside me…

She gently extends one of her delicate hands, keeping her eyes on mine, and softly whispers, “Let’s go home.”

Home.

I nod slightly, still in awe of this beautiful angel, and take her outstretched hand as I lead her from the mausoleum Ryan, Peter and I have created here tonight.

A brief nod at my team tells them it’s time to leave. We will deal with the repercussions of this night tomorrow, and we’ll come up with a plan to take down this whole organization.

Until then, I will tuck my angel safely in my arms and chase away any nightmares that may plague her sleep. I will keep her safe, for as long as she’ll let me.

My angel, my Tessa.

#shortstory mobsterAU devil angel lovestory

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name-me-regret · 3 years

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If The World Was Ending 8/?

If The World Was Ending Chapter Eight: Til The Morning

Read on AO3.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Take me home, take me home I'll be yours till the morning Then leave without warning So take me home

Call me please, call me please Oh I can't wait forever You know better So call me please

Leave me be, leave me be You had your chance already Someone else, I go steady So leave me be…”

~Til The Morning - Bahamas

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Tony groaned as his eyes opened, frowning as he tried to remember when he’d gone to sleep. The last thing he recalled was frantically looking—

He shot up in the bed he was laying in as he suddenly remembered Evan, looking around frenetically for the man. The room was dark but sunlight was starting to come in through the partially closed curtains. Where the hell was he anyways?

The billionaire decided that was something for later as he swung his legs out of the bed, fumbling with the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed he was in. When the semi-dark room was bathed in light, he was met with the room that could only belong to a teenage boy. Well, what he imagined it would look like for a normal teenage boy, since his room had looked nothing like this. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been normal. Besides, by the time he was fifteen, he was living in the MIT dorms with Rhodey as his roommate.

He quickly spotted his phone on the same nightstand as the lamp, as well as his Bluetooth. Tony quickly shoved it into his ear. “JARVIS, you up?” He wasn’t sure if it still had any battery, since it had been a terribly long day yesterday. At least, he hoped it was yesterday, since there was no telling how long he’d been out.

‘For you, sir, always,’ the AI’s familiar voice spoke in his ear.

He sighed as some of his panic subsided, but there was still the matter of Evan’s whereabouts. He’d be worried about Maddie, but she’d been perfectly unharmed, and wondered if she’d been at a hospital away from the affected zone. Tony was ashamed to admit that he’d never thought to ask Evan about what she was doing, he’d just sensed that it was something Evan had been hesitant to mention. Although he knew why she was in L.A. without Doug, whom was dead.

“How long have I been out, J? Where’s the suit, and where the hell am I?” he stood and stretched, feeling sort of rested, but not much. Well, he was use to it, since even after the Mandarin incident, he didn’t sleep too well. Even if he’d told Pepper that he would do better, that didn’t stop the nightmares, the panic attacks, and he knew it was PTSD. After all, if it walked like a duck and all that, well...

He’d just never been one to do the normal thing when one had trauma, which was go to therapy. Tony could just see his business slashed all over the newspapers. It had always been like that, even as a kid and now being Iron Man, it was ten times worse. At times he wished he’d just done what Colson (and Fury) had wanted and kept his identity as Iron Man a secret, since things would have been so much easier. Then he’d thought of the destruction that had happened, the fighter jet he’d destroyed, the vehicles that had been damaged in his fight with Iron Monger, and knew he couldn’t hide. He had to take responsibility, be held accountable for his actions; both in and out of the suit.

‘It is currently 5:25am Pacific Time, and you’ve been asleep for three hours, sir. The Mark 33 is stationed in the backyard in sentry mode and every other suit besides Peacekeeper which is still helping the police, have been charged and helping rescue workers mostly recover the dead at this point. Also, you are located in Robert Grant Nash’s residence.’

Tony paused as he was looking for his shoes, stopping as he’d bent down to search under the bed. “I’m at Cap’s house?” he asked incredulously. He bet there was a story there, but he had more pressing matters. “J, where’s Evan?”

‘Mr. Buckley is asleep at this very moment in the room next to this one.’

Tony forwent looking for his shoes and padded out of the room in his socks and headed into the room next to the one he’d woken up in. If he was at Bobby’s house, that meant the beds belonged to his kids. He hoped he hadn’t taken anyone’s bed from them.

For now he walked to the door next to the one he was in, knocking lightly in case Evan was asleep. When there was no response, he cracked open the door and peeked inside. He knew it was a huge invasion of privacy, but he just wanted to see that Evan was there and unharmed and then he would go. Whether that was back to the room he’d woken up in or not, well, he hadn’t decided yet.

He saw the man’s 6’2 frame on a bed and what he could see of the sheets and the rest of it room, this was a teenaged girl’s bedroom. From here he could tell he was sleeping peacefully and he sighed in relief. He knew about nightmares after a traumatic experience and it was good that Evan didn’t appear to be having any.

Tony quietly closed the door and moved away from the room, and finally decided that he wanted some coffee. He realized that this was because he could smell it, and it was gourmet too. Oh, someone in this house knew what good coffee was and wasn’t afraid to spend the money for it. Apparently some people were satisfied with that cheap instant kind, the uncultured fools.

He hoped he didn’t look too ragged or smell rank after spending the all yesterday and last night in the same clothes. Tony told JARVIS to order him some simple clothes to be delivered to Bobby’s residence. His AI told him that it, as well as some toiletries would be delivered within the hour. Hopefully he’d be able to get a cup or two of that coffee and perhaps beg off their hospitality for a piece of toast and some eggs.

Tony came into the kitchen to find Bobby Nash leaning against the counter, looking exhausted in his grubby LAFD uniform. There was a cup of coffee in his hand and his eyes were closed, and Tony wondered if he’d fallen asleep like that. Poor guy was likely ready to collapse, especially if he’d just gotten in.

“As much as I hate to wake you up, because you look bone weary, but I refuse to let you waste good coffee,” he told him, since the cup looked moments away from slipping out of his hand.

Bobby jerked awake as his fingers tightened on the coffee cup, and it was either not too full or already halfway drunk, but none of it thankfully sloshed over the side to spill on the man’s hand. “Tony,” the man greeted, but was interrupted by a face cracking yawn before he could say more.

“You look how I feel most mornings after a forty-eight hour binge in the lab working on a deadline for SI,” he chuckled. The man sighed as he ran a hand through his short hair, and was, as always, reminded a little bit of Howard. This man exuded the sternness the man had possessed, but none of the coldness. There was a softness that tempered the steel underneath, and Tony found himself liking Bobby more and more.

“You shouldn’t be awake,” he told Tony. He waved him on when he asked if he could have a cup of coffee. “It’s only been three hours since you collapsed.” He could feel the man’s eyes on him as he found a cup with his instructions and then poured himself some much needed coffee.

“Yeah, well, one learns to live on little to no sleep when we’re in this line of work,” he said, taking a large gulp of the coffee and not caring as it burned his tongue. That was definitely some great coffee. “What about you? You look like something the cat dragged in, chewed up, threw up, and then chewed up again.”

Bobby chuckled as he nodded. “I feel like it too,” he admitted. He took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, and Tony wondered how long he’d been leaning against that counter, battling his eyelids that kept trying to close.

“Well, is there any particular reason you’re not heading up for a shower and some much deserved rest?” He lifted the cup and took a more measured sip. “Or is it the unexpected guests in your home that’s preventing you from getting some rest?”

He knew some people would likely not feel comfortable sleeping while there was a stranger in their house. Tony would happily leave if that was the case, with no hard feelings. Bobby Nash was a man Tony could learn to respect, did respect after seeing him in action last night, so wouldn’t hold it against him if Tony was making him uncomfortable. The man had likely not intended for some strange billionaire to take up one of his kid’s beds.

Bobby blinked at him confused for a moment until his sluggish brain caught on to what he was saying. “No, that’s not it,” he said firmly. “I offered my home in the first place, and it would be pretty hypocritical to then have a problem with it.” He paused to yawn once again. “I’m actually waiting for my wife to get off her shift before turning in,” he admitted. “I told her that you were sleeping in Harry’s bed, but I’m not sure she quite believed me. So, I’m glad you’re up and she can see you with her own eyes.”

“Or, we can take a selfie together and send it to her?” Tony said with a mischievous grin.

Bobby straighten and stretched with a groan as he checked his watch. “No, she should be home in the next few minutes,” he said. As he grabbed his phone, it gave a tweet and Tony gave it a curious look.

“Is that her?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being nosy.

“No... it’s... a reminder,” he mumbled. “But I don’t know if I’ll still be expected to go. The hospital was in the flooding zone.”

“The hospital? Are you sick or something, Cap?” The thought of a man like Bobby Nash could be sick, who risked his life every day for the people of this city didn’t sit well with him. He quickly typed out a message to JARVIS to make a new fund for service women and men that were battling cancer, as well as other physical and mental illnesses.

“Oh no, I uh,” he paused and looked down like he was embarrassed by something. “I donate blood once every three weeks. I’m, um, part of the rare donors program.”

Tony blinked in surprise, since he was expecting anything except that. “Oh yeah? Like, you’re O negative or something?”

Bobby shook his head from side to side. “Uh no, rare type of blood that has the ability to cure rhesus disease, actually,” he murmured.

Tony had a few doctorates but none of them were in medicine. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

The older man shook his head. “It isn’t. I read up on it and... it’s, well, not many fetuses that are affected survive.”

Tony leaned against the counter with his cup in hand with a bit of a crooked smile. “So, your blood has the ability to save babies? And you’re a firefighter?” He shook his head and drank the rest of his coffee and reached for the pot again. “You’re full of surprises, Cap.”

“If you say so,” he told him, grunting in affirmative when Tony offered to top off his cup once again. “But I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go with the hospital being in the flood zone, and after the shift I’ve had, I’m likely to sleep for a whole day I think.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can help you with, let me know. It’s the least I can do for the hospitality you’ve shown me.”

They drank their coffees in a comfortable silence, and maybe Tony was too tired to ramble as he usually did. It could be that he just felt at ease in the man’s presence, which would be something unheard of for him when it came to someone he’d just met the other day.

“I meant to ask,” Tony said, remembering one of their meetings. “Did you ever find that Captain... Cooper?” He hoped he got the name right, since last night had been one long hour after another for him to be able to remember everyone’s names.

Bobby sighed and once more ran a hand through his short hair and Tony feared the worst, regretting having brought it up. “Yeah, they found him,” he said, voice sounding weary. “He was brought in before either of us got there... minus one of his arms, unfortunately.”

Tony grimaced and looked down at his coffee, wishing he had his sunglasses with him. One of the reasons he always wore them was that he’d been told that his eyes were very expressive. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused as he remembered the female firefighter that had been rescuing people at the Ferris wheel. “The woman that was with you at the peer where we first met, she’s from his firehouse, isn’t she?”

He couldn’t remember the station number at the moment, but he did remember that it had been a different one from the ones Bobby and Diaz had. Bobby nodded. “Lena Bosko, a firefighter of station 136.” His lips lifted a bit in slight amusement. “A stubborn but very capable firefighter.”

The shorter man’s eyebrow lifted in question. “I could tell she was pretty capable from the little I saw her work, but why stubborn?”

“She had two broken ribs, and still wanted to keep on going.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, continuing to enjoy the coffee. “Yeah, I know about continuing on with broken ribs... it’s not an experience I hope to repeat.”

There was what he could be shock, or maybe horror, on his face and he opened his mouth to say something. However, before Bobby could respond, they heard the door open and then footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Bobby?” Tony heard a woman’s voice. “What’s this about Tony Stark sleeping in Harry’s bed?” He heard the amusement in her voice, but then saw that same amusement fade from her face as she came around the corner and caught sight of Tony, who gave her a cheeky little wave with his fingers.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “Sadly, that is true. I’m the terrible person that took poor Harry’s bed.” He took another sip of the coffee, resisting the urge to moan, since it wouldn’t be proper. It was just that he loved good coffee. “You already know who I am, but I don’t know your name.”

“Ah... Athena Grant,” she said, and saw as she and Bobby shared a look. “Well, Nash now.” Tony sensed there was a story there, but knew it wasn’t one he was entitled to, so he didn’t ask.

“Well, I am very charmed to meet you, Mrs. Nash,” he said.

“Please, call me Athena.”

“If you call me Tony.”

Bobby looked between them. “Should I be worried? I remember Buck saying you flirt with anyone.”

Tony nodded with a bit of a smile curving his lips. “Well, Evan is right,” he supplied easily. “I see attractive people and I just... flirt.” He looked like he wanted to shrug, aborted the movement half way and cleared his throat. “I can admit it’s gotten me into a fair share of... altercations.”

“How is their 80-year-old grandmother attractive to you?”

Tony snorted a laugh, having forgotten that Evan had brought it up... or had that been Maddie? He was a bit fussy about what had happened after he arrived at the field hospital and assured himself of Evan’s safety. “Their grandmother was a nurse during World War 2 and knew my dad. He was like eighteen at the time, and it was nice to hear about him being that young.” He refrained from saying that he wanted to hear about a time when he wasn’t such a cold human being. The stern, unforgiving man he’d grown up with.

His head titled as he looked at the woman. “You’re a police sergeant, right?” he asked the dark skinned woman. The short hair style she had suited her face very well.

The woman eyed him carefully, her stance changing to wariness. “Has my husband been talking about me?” she asked him instead of likely demanding how he knew that.

Tony shook his head negatively. “Uh no, Evan told me, actually. He mentioned you during the incident where Maddie was... kidnapped by that abusive asshole. He actually called me just before he went off in search of her with you and kept me updated through text messages.”

“So that’s who that boy kept texting during that time. I’d always assumed it was Eddie,” she chuckled.

Tony gave that aborted shrug with his shoulders as he lifted his cup to his mouth. “Well, he could have been texting us both,” he suggested, not voicing how much that thought bothered him. Tony didn’t have the right to be bothered, since what he and Evan had at one point was over. Besides, at the time of this, he’d been dating Pepper, so he had no right to feel... well, whatever he was feeling, it certainly wasn’t jealousy.

Not at all.-

#Tony Stark #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Bobby Nash #Athena Grant #If the World Was Ending #Crossing The Divide series #9-1-1 Fox #9-1-1 #regret writes #myfanfiction #fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #Crossover fanfiction

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thecatwhogrins · 4 years

Text

The Red-Haired Maiden, the Little Wolf and the Firebird

A little Obiyuki firebird au fic for Obiyukimadness20, please enjoy!

Tsarevitch Raji Shenazade has demanded to see a Firebird.

A rumor had been spreading throughout the kingdom, from village to village, till it had reached the glistening towers of St. Petersburg. There, the rumour had spread like wildfire, and soon enough it caught the attention of the grandson of the great Tsar. The young noble was entitled to demand such things, even if this meant that many men would die trying to achieve this. If it is his will, it shall be done.

“Only a spoiled princeling like him would send his subordinates chasing after an old maid's tale", thought Obi bitterly as he shivered in the cold.

Obi was one of such attendants, the son of a skilled hunter, and the best one at that. But he was of a lower birth status, and this could be felt in the way the other young nobles looked at him. Obi simply let them do what they wanted, his attention was all on tracking the god forsaken bird. If he did not find the bird, he knew the princeling would throw out men from the throne room windows and behead the rest. Although Obi didn’t particularly like any of the snobby noble men or spineless servants, he did value his own life and the prize that had been promised if he succeeded in this task.

Freedom.

And so, this was the reason why a pack of young and not so young noblemen and servants scoured the thick forest on the edge of the eastern border of the kingdom, boot-clad feet deep in thick blankets of snow. They walked in a single file, the younger ones were rowdier and made much more noise. Obi stuck to the front, his footfalls as silent as a wolf's, his ears perking at every sound. Tracking a bird that no one has never seen was not an easy task, to say the least. His full attention was on finding a sign, any kind of sign to prove that the bird existed.

“Don’t go too far ahead, Volchonak, we don’t all run on all fours like you.” One of the men shouted, mocking Obi who simply let it go.

Volchonak, little wolf.

That nickname was better than others he had been called in the past. At least this evoked something to be feared, to be reckoned with. Obi simply advanced, leaving behind him the childish nobles.

As night encroached upon the trees, the group set up camp and lit a bonfire to ward off any nightly visitors from surprising them in their sleep. One of the younger nobles called Ryuu Ivanovitch was to be on sentry duty with Obi and had visibly never done such work before. He peered into the only darkness nervously but with a dignified countenance as he sat down next to Obi under a huge pine tree. They sat at the foot of a huge fir, both wearing as many layers of clothes they could, bundled up until only their eyes and noses could be seen. As the other nobles started to go to sleep, one of Ivan’s friends passed him and snickered.

“Ryuu Ivanovitch! Don’t get lost in the forest now, Baba Yaga might just snatch you up and eat you.” He laughed and continued towards the snow hole he’d be sleeping in. Ryuu pouted, displeased, and Obi rolled his eyes while his thumb strokes the hilt of his hunting knife. Obi was less preoccupied with Baba Yaga and more worried about wolves or bears, not that he would tell the young nobleman next to him. The last thing he needed to deal with during the night would be a panic-stricken pup clinging onto him. But it would be funny to tease him.

“Decisions, Decisions...” Obi sighed and looked towards the tree line a few meters away.

Obi's keen eyes suddenly caught something glistening a few meters away. It glowed like the gold that decorated the throne room. He rushed over to the object and found a single golden feather with bright red edges. It looked nothing like any kind of feather he had ever seen. It had melted slightly the snow around it but didn’t look hot anymore. Obi still hesitated to take it. He finally gingerly picked it up between gloved fingers. The feather was still slightly warm and shone brightly. It looked almost like an ornament a skilled craftsman had forged and dropped onto the snowy forest ground.

As Obi looked up a quiet sound resounded above his head. High above him, perched on a tree branch, sat a girl. She wore a necklace made of the same kind of feather Obi held in the palm of his hands. Her hair was a brilliant red, it glowed like a beacon in the frigid night air. She was staring at him curiously and the bonfire added a radish hue upon her face. She looked positively fiery, as though she herself was in fact the fire bird, a notion Obi refused to consider.

“Um...hello there miss?” he called up to her.

Ryuu looked up from where he sat at the base of the tree. His black brows furrowed but he did not utter a word. He suddenly cried out in alarm at the same time as the woman in the tree:

“Volchonak! Be careful!”

Obi barely had time to react as he suddenly was tackled to the ground by a creature, fur and weight and warmth smothering him. A row of sharp teeth snapped near his throat, nearly missing him.

It was a wolf.

How ironic.

He couldn’t make it out completely in the dying fire’s light, but it was huge and fierce. Its paws scratching at him as he grappled with it, avoiding its maw. They struggled in the snow, the beast was snarling, Obi was making almost inhuman desperate noises as desperately trying to get his hunting knife. The other men had also woken up, alarmed by all the noises and by Ryuu screaming.

The wolf suddenly got hold of the arm Obi was using to shield his face, and he hissed with pain. Fortunately, his teeth hadn’t sunk in too deep, but the pain was still intense. Obi glared at him, eyes locking with his adversary’s. It felt like a lifetime had passed when Obi finally grasped his weapon and slashed at the wolf’s eye. It whimpered and let him go, backing away. Obi’s head was spinning, the frigid night air coming out in breathless gasps. The beast turned away and raced into the night.

The other men were also trying to fend off other wolves with their hunting equipment. There was one man already down, his crimson blood spilt over the cold ground. After a few more minutes of panic, they managed to steer them away. Obi observed this all lying on the snowy ground, it thick like a carpet but colder than hell.

From where he was lying down, his gaze met the woman’s as she huddled in the tree. There was a look of worry on her face as he slowly sat up. The knife was still held in his hand tightly, blood from his arm trailing down, warm and wet. Ryuu helped him to stand up completely, asking him if he was feeling well.

“Are you hurt?” the woman asked with a melodious voice.

“I’ll survive,” obi answered, even though he still felt slightly light-headed.

After a few moments of silence, she asked another question:

“Are you here to see the fire bird?”

Obi hesitated slightly before answering.

“Wait, you know of the fire bird? What are you doing here? What is your name?” he asked.

“My name is Shirayuki, I live in the cottage not too far from here and I was out hunting for some herbs. I climbed this tree when the wolf attacked me, but it seems… I can’t get back down again.” She smiled sheepishly.

Obi’s brain worked double time as he tried to detect anything amiss in her story, but everything seemed a little too convenient. And that necklace… those were not normal feathers.

“Let me help you down, miss.” he smiled up at her. The time for questions would come later.

Obi directed her on where to put her hands and feet as Ryuu Ivanovitch watched silently next to him. The other men were all asleep and no other sounds disturbed the night but the wind howling and Obi’s calm voice. Shirayuki was about halfway down when suddenly the branch on which she was standing broke. Snow dropped heavily, her screamed filled the empty air and Obi suddenly found himself with an armful of red head and his arm was screaming in pain once more.

The night air turned silent again and Obi’s arms tightened around the young woman. Her green eyes were wide, still burning with fear and staring into Obi’s golden ones. Their breaths came out in puffs as they both calmed down. The whole camp full of groggy, grumpy men started to circle the three of them. Then, Shirayuki smiled, a small bright thing that grew more and more till she started to laugh. It was a bright sound, clear as bells in the middle of winter.

“Thank you for saving me, Volchonak.” She thanked him softly once she stopped laughing, “oh no! Your arm! I’m so sorry,” she quickly added, hastily getting out of his arms.

“You’re welcome miss.” He answered as he set her down. His heart was beating fast, but it wasn’t in fear. He gripped his injury, trying to staunch the blood.

“What’s this girl doing in the middle of our camp at this ungodly hour of the night?” asked Alexei Vasiliev, one of the lords on the hunt.

“I’m not too sure”, said one of the older servant men, Andrei Popovitch, “but it looks like she might be one of our men’s women who’s come on the hunt.”

The other men laughed at this but suddenly one of them cried out in surprise.

“My lord, look at her neck, those feathers, aren’t they strange?”

Shirayuki looked down at her chest where the feathers glowed dimly in the light of the campfire.

“They are strange! Speak, girl, tell us where you found them!” exclaimed Alexei Popovitch.

“This necklace is made of the firebird’s feathers. He does not give them out freely, but I saved his life once so to repay this kindness, he gave these to me.” Shirayuki explained. Obi felt surprise and suspicion worm their way into him. Living in the palace, he had met many a man who would spin the wildest tales in hopes of pleasing whoever listened in hopes of a few roubles.

“You know where the firebird is?” Obi interjected.

“I don’t know where he is right now, if that’s what you’re asking me.” Shirayuki answered, “he doesn’t come to my bidding, he has a mind of his own. The firebird assists me when I heal people. He comes to me when I need him. But he is a fickle creature and doesn’t always come when I think he will.” She laughed slightly at this.

“You’re a healer, then?” Obi asked.

She explained how she grew up in the forest with her grandparents. Her grandfather was a woodcutter and her grandmother taught her how to recognize plants and how to use them to heal people. Many people from the surrounding villages would often come visit her grandmother, seeking her skills. She continued with her grandmother’s the family business and cured whoever came to her cottage in exchange of things she could not provide for herself such as food and other rare items. Throughout this story, Obi looked at Shirayuki and she seemed truthful, her eyes shining slightly when she spoke of her grandfather’s passing, her grief still apparent, a small smile nonetheless playing on her lips. A strange sadness gripped his own heart and Obi had to look away from her eyes.

“It’s my turn to ask questions now,” she said with an inquisitive smile, “why do you seek the firebird?”

Obi was silent for a moment, a heartbeat. Telling her the truth was risky.

“We are not seeking it for glory, if that is what is worrying you. In fact, we don’t have much of a say in the matter. Our lord wishes to see the bird. We are simply here to execute.” Obi explained.

Shirayuki cocked her head at him, her brows drawn in a frown.

“What will you do when you see it? Will you hurt it?”

“No, Tsarevich Raji only wishes to see it so we will capture it, bring it before his highness and set it free.” Alexei Vasiliev answered. The lie was obvious for anyone who lived with nobility. Obi tensed up. Shirayuki seemed to not believe the noble man and instead looked at Obi, with a slight tilt of her brow. Obi looked away, under her scrutiny he suddenly felt very small, very much like his nickname.

“Well, if that is all you wish to do, I might be able to summon the bird tomorrow, we simply must find its roosting nest on the top of the mountain.” She explained calmly.

“We shall sort this out in the morning. Everybody will wake up at dawn. Everybody go back to rest and if someone wakes me up again, so help me God, they will get a beating they shall remember.” said Alexei Vasiliev. The men grumbled and returned to their snow holes, shivering and cursing at the cold.

Only Obi, Ryuu and Shirayuki remained, an uncomfortable silence reigning. The next round of night watch brought out two more young hunters to take over. Obi let them take his place under the fir tree and headed towards his sleeping hole he would share with someone else. Ryuu, mostly silent during the whole interaction shuffled off sleepily towards his own sleeping hole. As Obi neared his resting spot, he realised Shirayuki was following him softly.

“Let me help you with your wound,” she said softly, bringing out herbs and other equipment out of a small satchel she wore.

“I’m sorry, this might hurt,” she said as she borrowed the deer skin full of alcohol and used it to drench his wound, disinfecting it. She then applied some herbs that smelled rather strongly, making Obi’s nose wrinkle in distaste. She finished by bandaging his arm quickly with a fresh piece of linen. Her hands on his skin were soft, almost too warm compared to the cold air. Her head was bowed, concentration etched on her features. Obi’s heart was once again racing. He was so distracted, he barely heard her when she voiced her request.

“Can I borrow your snow hole please? It’s too late for me to dig one myself” she asked softly. There was no trace of embarrassment like the blushing maidens back in the village would have had. Her crimson hair was all tussled from the wind and falling from a tree. Obi could even detect a few pine needles sticking out of it. A small smile played on her rosebud lips. Utterly charming. Obi swallowed hard.

“Of course, little miss. Let me just move over, make some space for you. Don’t want it to be too tight.” Obi almost winked and thought better of it. Shirayuki looked rather unfazed, probably missing the double entendre.

“Actually, when it’s this cold, it’s better to sleep closer together to retain the heat,” she said unabashedly. Obi almost choked.

“Yeah…Yes, you’re right! Come on, before we wake up anyone again.” Obi hurriedly said.

Shirayuki settled next to him, the bonfire did not illuminate the hole, so Obi could only see her profile outlined in the dark. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of the forest and Shirayuki’s light breathing. Obi was known to be a flirt, but he wasn’t accustomed to see a woman this unabashed.

He closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

#obiyukimadness20 #fanfic #myfic #obiyuki #ans #russian myths au #ans snow white with the red hair #obiyukimadness2020 #after-action patch-up

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project-ohagi · 4 years

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Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader {Greek Mythology AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Being celebrated as the town's best blacksmith and master-craftsman, you had many opportunities to provide exquisite items for the royal household. You lived within the boundaries of King Enji Todoroki's castle, and you knew the inhabitants quite well. Their splendid, sharp and practical weapons were fashioned in your very forge, and seeing the guards carrying them down the labyrinthine hallways of the castle filled you with a sense of pride. The furniture, often wooden and antique, with exotic designs that no other craftsman in the realm could ever replicate, received compliments not only from the king's subjects, but the foreign ambassadors, who proceeded to inform their employers of the magnificent works. You had big dreams and a means to achieve them.

You wandered the corridors of the castle, glancing at the hand-brewed lanterns littering the walls, illuminating the red and brown bricks. Their flames flickered like the tongues of dragons - a reliable source had once told you that the king himself reared these beautiful, dangerous beasts, although you had never seen them personally. The claim went invalidated, but your songbird was a lovely girl, very gentle and trustworthy. She possessed a meagre level of magic, which impressed you to no end. She slurred potions around and carried leaves of fern and belladonna wherever she travelled. Her companions were extraordinary, as well, and you often saw them as they graced the grasses of your small town. There was a boy with stunning verdant hair and a penchant for crying, plus a knight from the land controlled by King Toshinori Yagi. He had always been lax with the laws, and there was barely ever any crime, so the castle wouldn't suffer from having one less guard.

A pleasant humming sound drifted from your lips, echoing along the walls, making it seem as though someone was tailing you. Your (e/c) eyes fluttered shut as you allowed the crackling of the small flames to guide you safely on the path. Through the flesh of your eyelids, you could see the faint glow of fire beginning to dwindle. Ceasing any movement, you cracked open both eyes and resolved to find the problem. These lanterns had been imbued with the Eternal Flame, so it was (supposedly) unheard of for them to die out. It wasn't just one, either - as your gaze lingered on the husks of your lanterns, you noticed their light slowly diminishing, until all that remained was darkness.

You shivered, the lack of warmth enabling a frigid breeze to waft over you, like a bad dream.

"Whoa, who burned out all the lanterns?" A voice called, cheery amidst the dire circumstances.

That wasn't the only issue, however. This was a strange sound, a foreign one, and you knew all the sounds of this castle. You could pick people and objects apart by noise alone, and yet this was a trial your ears could not overcome. Another thing - you hadn't even realised there was someone else in the corridor with you. The earlier humming was a sound you only made when absolutely comfortable, usually while tinkering in your little shop. You were at home around the lanterns you had manufactured yourself. Yet, they died out. Every. Last. One. You didn't design things to fail. That was the first rule of the trade, and until now, you had sworn by it.

You decided to try this stranger. "I'm not quite sure. They weren't supposed to do that, and no-one else was here."

"Well then," His bones made a clicking sound, as if he was stretching. "It must have been you, or me, but I guess we'll never know."

The arrogance lacing his tone did tick you off slightly, but you had to sigh at his words. "Impossible." You muttered, almost condescendingly.

"I was specifically entrusted to fashion lanterns that would never die."

Your last sentence was likely whispered, but it still reached your accomplice's ears. Probably because he had elected to stand right behind you, which startled you out of your skin when he started talking again. Apparently, he was the king's jester or some other such nonsense. He must have been - no other sane person would dare disrespect the greatest figures of modern times (you thought quite highly of yourself, if that's not already evident).

Whistling, he asked, "Wooow, you made these? No wonder they burned out so fast. What did you make them out of? Wood and wax?"

You huffed indignantly, trying not to rise to his taunts. "It's impossible that they all went out. One or two, perhaps I could find fault in, but all of them? What magic is this?"

"The black kind?" The stranger offered, unhelpfully. "Don't get me wrong, they looked nice - so do you, by the way - but maybe you're not as great as you think, princess."

You searched for him in the dark, but that turned up nothing. "Please don't call me that. My name is (Y/n) (L/n). I'm the town's main blacksmith and craftsman - I know what I'm doing, and if I say this isn't normal, I would like to be believed. What is your name, anyway? I don't feel like calling you 'stranger' forever."

There was a pause and a near-incoherent sound, the he spoke. "I go by Hawks, beautiful, and you didn't call me 'stranger', unless you were thinking about me? Aww, I wonder why I haven't seen you before?"

You sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure you can see me now."

"Haha, you're right! Well, gotta find some light, I suppose. Which way to safety...?" You heard his light footfalls, followed by a muffled cry.

"That would be the wall." You muttered, astounded by the apparent stupidity of this man.

He said nothing, but continued onwards. After a few moments, a warm hand moved to cradle yours, and he pulled you alongside him. You wanted to protest, but decided against it. You would get nowhere with trivial arguments. The corridor twisted and turned, and you suddenly remembered that one section leading off from it was restricted, but you wouldn't be able to see it in complete darkness. This did worry you slightly, but instead of vocalising your discomfort, you just squeezed Hawks' hand tighter. With him as delegated leader, he bumped into a few more walls on the way out. It seemed that, like you, he hadn't been expecting the lanterns to burn out as easily as they did. When you appeared to have reached a crossroads, he stopped. It was so abrupt that you actually slammed into his back. Trickles of hair brushed against your forehead, and you realised that you were probably just a fraction taller than him. At least this gave you one advantage. He could have his jokes and flirtatious words, but you had your trade and your height.

"Ahh..." He chuckled, a tone of uncertainty present in his voice.

"What's going on? Why did you stop?" You questioned, getting kind of annoyed with this guy.

He glanced around, but saw nothing, obviously. "I might have gone the wrong way?"

"You what?!" You yelled. "We have no light source, and now no sense of direction? Oh, more black magic..."

"It'll probably be fine." He responded, once more sounding as though he commanded some divine wisdom.

His one free hand traced the wall, and just as you were pondering whether to give him two free hands, a noise of acknowledgement erupted from his throat. You supposed that meant he knew where you were, but could he really tell from touch alone? It was likely a ploy, although it did something to calm your throbbing heart. He re-established his pace, dragging you in tow. He made a degree of small talk along the way, but it was drowned out by all the thoughts swimming in your head. His palm was dangerously hot, like an oven, yet you were finding it impossible to let go. It was the kind of heat source your body craved, although you weren't entirely sure why.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting screech began to resonate like a gong, and before you had chance to ask what the hell was happening, you were tugged through the wooden frame of a door. It closed as soon as you stepped into the bright, blinding light. After all that darkness, this seemed like Hell. At least for the first few minutes. Once your eyes managed to adjust, you peered through heavy eyelids, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man calling himself 'Hawks'.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

Those tussles of hair that had previously ghosted your forehead turned out to be feathery and ash-blonde in colour. A small amount of stubble hung from his chin, and as he yawned, you saw perfect, snowy-white teeth. When he noticed the starstruck expression on your face, he grinned, the corners of his lips moving upwards. You blushed - even his cocky smile was breath-taking. He had the most awe-inspiring, chocolate-brown eyes, that twinkled in the glinting candlelight. His fluffy eyebrows made your heart weep, and the formation of those black triangles below his tear ducts reminded you of a bird. His peasant clothes were nothing to write home about, but the way he wore them certainly was. He somehow made them look more appealing and seductive than they should have been, yet you couldn't put a finger on the reason. An onyx, stud-shaped earring adorned both ears. He must have been a similar age to you - around 22 - and you wondered if he would consent to court someone so soon after meeting them. Despite his frankly irritating nature, he made your heart sing, and you instantly knew that you needed to be with him.

"Too hot for you, princess?" He smirked, arrogantly.

You flushed. "S-Sort of."

Adding moisture to his lips, he retorted, "Well, you're pretty sexy yourself, Miss."

After this comment, you immediately retracted your gaze, opting to look around the room instead. "W-Where are we, anyway?" You asked, a little confused.

"My bedchambers." He replied, laughing at your face, which was now stained red.

"W-Why am I here??"

He shrugged. "You followed me, dollface."

"You dragged me!"

In a district far removed from the prying eyes of royal sentries, a hoard of villainous men and women alike resided. Their sanctuary had been built in haste, as their ancestors needed a safeguard, away from anyone who might wish to hurt them. Those people, namely the kings Enji Todoroki and Toshinori Yagi, were fierce yet kind rulers, protecting their realms while simultaneously warding away the evil that lurked around the bend. Although their relationship was strained, the kings banded together for the greater good, and finally succeeded in expelling the tyrants. However, nothing was ever so simple - spies had been recruited and placed around the perimeter of the realms. They often caught wind of conspiracies, and would venture into the twisting labyrinth of a wasteland where they were never supposed to find. The mice frequently managed safe journeys, but the grand dictator, All For One, had abilities that far exceeded those of any normal human; he could hear their footsteps, smell their shallow breaths, feel those tell-tale vibrations in the air. There was never any privacy in his castle, and certainly no safety.

If he sought after your head, he would receive it. However, unlike what the rumours suggested, he never abused this power, instead deciding to reserve it for the serious threats. There was no point waging war against the kings without sufficient battle tactics, and All For One remained wounded from his encounter with the stronger of the two: King Toshinori Yagi.

"What shall we do with him, master?" A raspy voice called out, partially muffled by the detachable hand covering his face.

The large, shadowy figure he addressed reclined in his throne, looking upwards and intertwining his fingers, as if contemplating the question. This was all pretence - he had already begun putting the plan in motion, after all. To ease his pupil's mind, he replied, "Bring him in. Question him. Torture him if you have to. If he has valuable information, let him live. If he refuses to speak in three days' time, execute him."

"As you wish."

Messy blue hair whipped in all directions as he signalled for a few of the people in the room. They followed his lead, heading out of the double doors and down the nearest hallway. With him, there walked a tall, lean individual with an ebony mane and oddly-symmetrical burn marks, the skin purple and wrinkling. It was held together crudely by metal hoop piercings. Beside him, a smartly-dressed man with wisps of purple and black mist in place of a body, and a young, blonde girl with a Cheshire-Cat grin. These were apparently the people for the job. In this world of tricks and magic, these four were the ringmasters, controlling the rest of the troupe with strings of steel.

"Who do we get to kill this time??" The girl asked, almost drooling in anticipation of the hunt.

"You heard what master said." Came the agitated response. "We capture him and try to get what we need. If he manages to stay sane for three days, then you can have your fun."

The patchwork zombie spoke next. "How are we doing this, then? We can't storm Enji Todoroki's castle."

As his words echoed around the walls, a swirling vortex appeared, growing bigger and bigger until it could allow for all four to plunge into the blackness. Two, however, were commanded to hold back - the girl and the man with purple patches of flesh. The warp gate closed as soon as the others stepped through.

The hunters were on the prowl.

"Ah...don't be shy. Admit it - you wanted to spend the night with me." Hawks gifted you a wink, both flirtatious and amused.

He must have been savouring your embarrassment. "I can't admit what isn't true." You glanced towards one of the massive, stained-glass windows lining the nearby wall. Although it was difficult to see, you determined that it was indeed night-time. How had you spent so long in the castle? You could have sworn it was early afternoon when you arrived, and you shouldn't have been there for more than a few hours. Your detour with this cocksure fairy didn't feel as though it had taken any more than half an hour. Perhaps that was just because your brain was preoccupied, enjoying the company it was in. "I should leave now. It's late, and my shop needs guarding."

"Haven't you fashioned some defence system? Surely (Y/n) (L/n), the oh-so-talented master-craftsman would be prepared for everything?" He taunted, clearly trying to back you into a corner.

"I'm afraid I can entertain you no longer, jester. I need to leave. Something strange is happening - can't you sense it? Those lanterns were my inventions, and I need to figure out why they died." Turning on your heel, you began to walk away from the blonde-locked man and his mahogany door.

However, his laugh stopped you in your tracks. "I guess I do act like a jester, don't I?"

Mysteriously, like smoke, his voice soon trailed off. You couldn't even begin to comprehend how such a flashy, boisterous person would all of a sudden go completely quiet. It wasn't just that - you couldn't hear anything but the ear-splitting silence, like static running through your veins. The walls weren't moaning, the floor wasn't creaking, and nobody seemed to be breathing. There were no sounds. None at all. It was as if Hawks, along with the very castle, knew something you didn't, but their lips were sewn shut. You wondered if the walls would collapse around you, burying you alive, or maybe the ghosts of Enji Todoroki's victims would seek revenge, but instead attach themselves to and haunt you until the end of your days.

"What-" You tried to break the ice that had settled like stalactites on the ceiling, but felt as though a veil was slowly being wrapped around your neck, preventing any more words from reaching the surface.

Suddenly, hands as warm as a furnace grasped your ice-cold ones and dragged you through the door. When you looked at him, you saw that his face held a serious expression. He definitely knew something - something bad. You wanted to ask, but couldn't quite find the words to do so. Stepping through the door felt weird, as if your feet weren't touching wood, but rather something less material. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, opting to trust the man you had only recently met. After a few seconds, he tumbled on to a hard surface and, still being hand-in-hand, your body crashed into his. His head slammed into the brick, eliciting a faint, pained noise. Truth be told, he was in a lot of pain, but he didn't want you to have any anxieties about the situation, so he refrained from screaming. That was so much worse than stubbing your toe.

"You were surprisingly easy to catch, despite your profession. I did not expect you to have an accomplice, however. She could prove to be troublesome." The voice resonated in your ears painfully, like white noise.

"She's not an accomplice. I met her about two minutes ago - she looked lost, so I was just pointing her in the right direction." Hawks drew out the lie, allowing more time to think of an escape.

Whoever else was out there laughed. "We have orders, Hawks. You have been flying too close to the sun for a long time, and now it is your time to fall."

"So, what's the plan?" Hawks breathed, sparing a side-glance at your trembling figure. "Are you gonna put me in chains, lock me in the dungeons? You do have dungeons, right? I mean, this place is massive, and pretty much a castle."

"This place," The voice began. "Is a labyrinth."

You tugged at Hawks' sleeve. "What are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed??" You whisper-yelled, both furious with and concerned for the man.

"Out of tricks? That's such a shame. To answer your question: we will lock you in one of the many chambers within this labyrinth. There are so many corridors, that even if you were to escape from your cell, you would never reach the surface."

The air swirled in front of you, a mixture of black and purple. Two legs protruded from within, followed closely by a slim body, clad in a suit. Behind this imposing figure, another man stepped out of the darkness. He was dressed far lighter than the former, in only an onyx shirt, baggy trousers and slip-on shoes. You didn't recognise either of these men, given that you mostly stayed in your small town, never straying further than the treeline of the surrounding forest. Despite this, it was easy to reckon that they were the rumoured tyrants. At least, two of them. That thought made your hair stand on end, as though it had been exposed to a great deal of static electricity - what if there were more, hiding in the black void, ready to pounce at any moment? As if sensing your fear, one of the men (the one who seemed as if he might tend to a bar in his off-time), turned to address you.

"Miss, if you comply, then nothing shall be done to cause you harm." His tone was polite, but by that time, you had already chosen your side. You would remain with the person who had stolen your heart in a matter of minutes, with his witty, mischievous nature, and how he laughed in the face of danger, just to keep you safe.

So, although it might have been reason enough for your head to roll, you showed a level of defiance that they weren't expecting. The other man, whose voice was a lot more sickening, muttered something you couldn't hear, scratching his neck as he did so. His partner in crime seemed to sigh (though, with him having no discernible mouth, it was hard to tell), but elected against opposing his superior. The orders had already been given, after all, and any accomplice of the target must suffer the same, horrendous fate as him. You never knew what such seemingly innocent people could be hiding. Before he was grabbed, Hawks made an attempt to snare one of the stray knifes littered on the ground. His enemies noticed the plot, however, and ensured it wasn't followed through. A set of calloused hands gripped your neck and waist, hoisting you up on to your feet. You lashed out, but the hand around your neck clamped down harder, making you choke. You were gradually running out of oxygen. Soon, you couldn't handle the strain of fighting, and your body went limp, slumping against the blue-haired man. It was uncomfortable, but your vision was dimming, just like your lanterns back in the castle of Enji Todoroki. Just before you blacked out, you made the connection - they had been responsible for your burnt-out lights.

A spellbinding sight awaited your tired eyes - the walls were covered in ancient carvings, spiral-designs and other such patterns. You, alongside your companion, were confined in a large room, with no obvious doors or windows. You attempted to move, and although you had no bindings, your muscles were stiff. Almost immediately, your mind went into overdrive, trying to work out a viable escape plan. You could always create something to break through the wall, but you weren't sure how deep the labyrinth ran, and it seemed appropriate to assume that you would be easily captured. Raising a hand to your mouth, you began muttering to yourself, slowly piecing together a picture of what you were going to do. You needed to be extremely careful, as there were two lives on the line. If you were discovered mid-escape, it was likely that you would be executed, since you doubted Hawks had the skills required to take flight.

"...Flight! That's it!" You silently praised your ingenuity, glancing around to see if there was anything that could be of use. "Alright...I need the framework, and then something to hold them together. The shape needs to be perfect, for the air to pass over..."

Whilst in the midst of your mutterings, Hawks awoke and contemplated his situation. Then, he noticed you had been shoved into the same cell as him. An unfamiliar feeling welled up inside his chest, tugging at his heartstrings. It was a concoction of guilt, dread, love and sadness. You appeared to be working on something, kneeling in the dirt and presiding over your art. He stood with much effort, and he thought for a moment that his legs might have been broken. He managed to hobble over to where you were stationed, giving him a better view of whatever you were trying so desperately to complete. Your hands were moving rapidly, not letting him concentrate for very long. One minute, they just looked like smashed pieces of wood, but the next, they had a proper form.

"They'd be great if we could actually get out. Did you think about that, princess?" He had been in the labyrinth before, and knew just how tricky it was to navigate - it was meant to gradually drain your sanity, and make you compliant. If that didn't work, there was always good old-fashioned torture.

You responded after a few beats of silence. "You can do something about that, then. We'll need quite a large hole, or else these things won't get through."

Hawks smirked. "You're trying to get out? Bold of you to assume you can."

"Bold of you to suggest I can't." You countered, adding the finishing touches to your work. "Okay, now listen carefully - I managed to sculpt these out of scraps of wood, and I melted the wax from those candles." You pointed to them. "They will hold long enough to get us back to the realm of Enji Todoroki, but you cannot, under any circumstance, get caught in the heat of the sun. If you do, not only will you have wasted one of my creations, but you will plummet to your death. do you understand?"

There was a mischievous glint in his chocolate orbs. "You'd make a good gypsy, y'know."

You masked your smile behind irritation. "Do you understand?"

"Oh, completely. I just have to stay away from the sun, right?" He nodded.

"Correct." You released a breath you didn't know you had been holding; this man was going to be the death of you. A speck of silver flashed in your peripheral vision, and you directed your gaze accordingly. "Why would someone leave a hammer...?" You mumbled, confused.

Hawks hummed, then looked towards the object. "Well, seems like you've found our way out."

Stepping forwards without hesitation, he picked it up and did an initial, experimental swing. It collided with the wall of the labyrinth, severing the carvings and creating a small dent. His lips twitched upwards, and he held the hammer more firmly in his hands. He swung it again and again, shattering the wall almost entirely. To your surprise, it gave way to blinding sunlight and lush green land. Your mouth fell agape - both of you had been anticipating another layer of the winding entanglement. Nodding once to yourself, you handed a pair of wooden wings over to your accomplice, reminding him of your prior warning. Clasping your own tightly on to your person, you stood on the edge, looking down. You heard an awkward gulp from beside you - Hawks must have been nervous. Just before you were about to soar to freedom, a portal, black and purple, fissured a section of previously untouched wall. Two figures began marching into the frame.

You didn't give Hawks any time to think. With a hand on the wings, you propelled him forwards. You jumped out of the labyrinth after a few seconds, tailing closely behind Hawks, who was flapping his newly-acquired wings rather awkwardly. Although you detested the idea, you spared a brief glance back to your prison, seeing those two men standing among the ashes of the wall. Their faces displayed not anger, as you expected, but glee. Disturbed, you averted your eyes. They would not silence you. The people of your town would indeed hear your voice again, purchase your goods and request specific items. You would not be trapped.

Never again.

"Hawks, are you doing okay? Remember you need to move them yourself - just like a bird." You called, swooping past the blonde-haired man. An ecstasy-streaked expression had appeared on his face. You had to smile at this.

"This feels amazing! Damn, you really are good at making things. When we get back, could you jazz these up a bit for me?" He glided in the air, riding the wind, the breeze fluffing up his hair.

Below, a vast expanse of sea stretched out, going for miles and miles. You wanted to fly down, gently touching the surface with your feet, and making it look as though you were walking on water. Your eyelids flickered shut as you relished in Gaia's soft breaths. The clouds slowly ghosted past you. By the time you opened your eyes, it was far too late. Savouring the sweet taste of fresh air, like a starved child, Hawks had been consumed by a false sense of security. He neglected to recall your warning. The bright rays of the sun beamed down on his figure, washing an unpleasant heat over him. The wax which held his wooden wings together began to drip, raining down on the surface of the ocean like snowflakes. Soon, fractures started to show in the wood. You wanted to scream at him for being so idiotic. Instead, you dove towards the falling form. You missed by a millisecond. Speed was quickly becoming an issue, but you continued descending, reaching out a hand in the hopes that he would grab it. His arms and legs were flailing, and he couldn't seem to stay still for long enough. The water was luring him closer and closer.

In one last ditch effort, you howled out his name. "Hawks!"

His body met the blue liquid, and he was dragged down further, as if compelled by a magnet.

You caressed the water, watching and waiting for any sign of him. Tears were clouding your vision, cascading down your cheeks and eventually dripping down, into the sea. You didn't know if they would ever reach him, but you whispered a few words, distorted by sobs.

"...I warned you..."

[Word Count: 4779]

#hawks #bnha hawks #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #greek myth retellings #icarus

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