#and gale left to look for the crown!!!! and he promised he will come back and they will ascendtogether

[creatureesque]

LOOK AT MY DURGE SEROH AGAIN LOOK AT HER LOOK AT HER AND LOOK AT HER MAGE WIFE NOWWWWW!!!!! explanations for two of the drawings are in the tags :)

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

dark/cunty raphael, devils being devils (this has been done to death but i just wanted to write him being awful) once again thank you @pouralaura for your advice and encouragement you are the best

Read on AO3

-

He wasn't supposed to be back yet.

He wasn't supposed to be back yet.

Tav panicked. Wide eyed, she pleaded with Hope's flickering apparition. “Are you sure?” She hissed. “Are you sure he's back?”

“YesyesYES can't you feel it?! He's home, the master is home and he brings blood and pain and death!” Hope shrieked. “I have to go, you have to go, we all have to go!”

“No, Hope, wait! I need your help!”

“I can't help you anymore,” the poor crazed thing said, coherent for this moment just to fix Tav with a sad, pitying look. “Just like you can't help me anymore. But thanks for trying. I'll remember it forever. He's going to hurt you and he's going to kill you and I'm sorry.”

Her phantom faded into nothing and Tav was left alone in the claustrophobic halls. Maybe she tripped a hidden alarm or ward. Maybe she simply took too long. All she knew was that, if Hope was right, she'd squandered likely the only chance she had of sneaking into Raphael's home and taking the hammer. And Hope was definitely right. Tav felt it. A change to the air. The wailing of souls muted, exhalated. 

He was here.

The plan had been very simple: her friends distract Raphael by pretending to consider and discuss his contract “behind her back”, and she heads to the diabolist to get a portal open, go in, steal the hammer, and leave. It was much easier to sneak a single person through, and Raphael would've been none the wiser. Only, she wasn't prepared enough for the House of Hope. She wasn't prepared for its namesake. She wasn't prepared for Raphael's dark, dirty secrets parading in her face. 

Gale called her ludicrous. Mad. Idiotic. And yet when she pressed him for a better option, for a way to keep the crown and save Orpheus from the Emperor's vile clutches, he came up empty. They were stretched thin, resources and resilience at their breaking points.

“Let it be me, then,” he'd said. “Let it be me who gets the hammer.”

“I'm a better sneak than you,” Tav had argued. She was willing to take the risk for him. So he could be free of Mystra, free of the orb. Free. He knew. He'd pressed their foreheads together, holding her close.

“Come back to me,” he'd whispered. “Promise you'll come back.”

Tav might not be able to deliver the hammer, but she could still escape. All she had to do was hide, and sneak back to her portal before Raphael found her. The house was so big, like a damn maze. Tav tried to remember where she'd come from, where she'd left her portal, but the gaudy halls and creepy gilded statues all looked the same. She thought she recognised the dining room from when he'd first brought her here so long ago, taunting her with the offer of aid. The table was covered in rotten food. Mutilated skeletons filled the seats. Shaken, Tav moved on.

Shit.

She caught sight of Raphael prowling the corridors outside, his expression stormy. He was still in his human guise, but his hellish fury bubbled just barely beneath the surface. Swallowing a sharp inhale before it gave her away, Tav tucked herself behind a pillar and prayed he hadn’t seen her.

“I know you're here, little mouse,” he rumbled, burning brown eyes scanning every nook and cranny. Tav bit her lip. Her stomach dropped. He exuded overwhelming diabolical power. Tav knew she stood no chance against him alone. “You must think me a dullard. Your friends show up at the Devil's Den without you, interested in a contract of all things when they were so staunchly against me before, and then I feel my wards breached telling me there is an intruder scurrying about my home…why, such coincidental timing. I wonder, who could be creeping around? What could they be looking for?”

In hindsight, the plan was never going to work. Of course he had wards everywhere. Of course he was too clever for their ruse. But they were desperate. Just as the devil promised they would be, by the end. Just the way he wanted them. All hope wasn't yet lost. If she could only escape…

“Did you think you could fool me? That any hair-brained schemes concocted in your simple, tadpole-addled minds would succeed? It's almost amusing, were it not so outrageous.” Raphael ranted. So verbose even in his anger. And yet, Tav could hear his liquid smile in the words he purred next. “How about this? For old times’ sake, for my most cherished client who never was… If you show yourself now and beg me well enough, I might make your death quick. But the longer you hide, the longer it takes for me to find you - and I will find you - the longer I'll spend peeling your pretty skin from your flesh.”

The devil was striding away, deeper into his house. Tav snatched the opportunity to dart out into the foyer. She remembered now, those big metal doors. Where Hope had first been waiting. Tav’s portal was behind them. Poor Hope. Rejuvenated by relief, Tav vowed to find a way to save her. Even if she had to storm the house again, with her team this time, and swing the cudgel of justice down on Raphael’s head. Smash his dirty devil brains out. She’d relish doing so. The doors were ajar. Tav slipped through. She could practically taste her safety. The grungy corrupted streets of Baldur’s Gate had never been so welcoming…

Except there was no portal.

For a moment she simply stood there in disbelief. Denial. A scorched circle on the marble floor was the lone indicator that a portal had ever existed in the first place. A taunting shadow. As she stared at nothing, the damned souls forever trapped - just like her - seemed to laugh. 

Despair. The likes of which Tav hadn’t felt since she awoke on the beach and realised everything that happened on the nautiloid wasn’t a bad dream. It crawled up her throat and threatened to make her scream. She stuffed the meat of her hand in her mouth and bit down. The pain grounded her. Panic wouldn’t help. There had to be other portals. Ones Raphael or his cronies used to get about in the material plane. She’d jump through one of them. It didn’t matter where she ended up; it would be easy enough to get back to Baldur’s Gate. She crept out into the halls again. A flash of red in the corner of her eye catapulted her into motion. She’d never been more aware of the noise her boots made, how heavy her footsteps were, how loud each panting breath was. She ran, crawled behind a big statue, and made herself as small as possible. 

“Come out, little mouse,” the devil crooned sweet poison from somewhere, his voice drifting through the empty spaces of his home, echoing off the walls and floors, impossible to ignore. “Come out come out, wherever you are…”

Fear bubbled in Tav’s churning  gut. Her heart pounded against her ribs in protest. In her ever-shrinking world of mind flayers, crazed cultists, monsters and apostles and madness, Raphael had been but a blip on her threat radar. She hadn’t given him much concern, or consideration. A mistake. One she might not live to rectify.

I’m sorry, Gale…

“It was bold of you to come here alone, you know. Bold, but so very foolish. I suppose you got the idea in your worm-eaten skull that you were faster than your companions. Stealthier. Or was it they who convinced you?” Raphael’s tone twisted, honed into a dagger aiming at a specific target. A soft target. “I wonder, did they do it because they really thought you might succeed? Or because they knew you wouldn’t? A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, after all…”

Tav chewed the inside of her cheek. Raphael, she’d learned, was very good at hurting people without even raising a finger. Words were weapons for him as much as his claws or infernal magics. She wouldn’t let him bait her.

Peering out of her spot, the coast was clear enough for Tav to risk moving. She thought about it. The devil was quiet, had been for a little while, either out of things to say - unlikely - or finally far away enough that she could no longer hear him. After another few moments of hesitation, Tav took the chance, flitting down an empty corridor. Prayed the next room she entered would hold something useful. 

She never made it.

As she rounded a corner, a hand shot out and snatched her by the hair. Thick fingers dug into her scalp, yanked her so harshly a joint in her neck popped. 

“Got you,” the devil snarled, right into her ear. Tav shrieked, instinctively scratching at Raphael’s hand. All it seemed to do was incense him further. 

“Let go of me!” She yelled.

“Oh, how the mouse squirms when it’s been caught,” Raphael intoned, low, almost sensual were it not for the bite of murder lingering in the depths. He manipulated her to look at him, so she could see the contempt and loathing on his handsome face. “But you aren’t a mouse, are you? No. You’re a rat. Just like your little friends.”

“Did you hurt them?!” The pain of her hair being pulled at the roots made tears bead at the corners of Tav’s eyes. She fought to regain her footing. Glared at Raphael anyway.

“And what would you do if I had?” The devil jeered. He released her hair, only to close his fist around her throat instead. “No, no. Despite your collective stupidity, someone still needs to clean up the mess that is the netherbrain. Although I don’t imagine they have much chance of success after this…” Raphael squeezed her throat harder. Claws dug pinpricks into her skin as he let his rage change him, shed his human disguise. He shook her, easily lifting her from the ground so her legs dangled, black and orange eyes ferocious. “You had every opportunity to accept my deal. It was fair. The hammer for the crown. An artefact you cannot even hope to use or understand, for the only chance you had to free yourself from the Emperor. To free Orpheus. And yet you’ve chosen to spit in my face despite my patience, my clemency. Why?” 

Tav gagged, struggled to speak around her crushing windpipe. Black spots began to dance at the edges of her vision. The devil loosened his grip enough so she could answer. His pride demanded it. “You…the crown should…go to Mystra. For Gale. He spoke to her. She said…said she could fix him, get rid of the orb if…if he…the crown…” Tav broke off, coughing, choking, gasping for air. Her tears finally spilled over, dripping down her cheeks.

“You’ve done this for Gale?” Raphael seethed with peculiar jealousy. He dropped her, watched her stumble. Then he laughed; a cruel, sharp sound that went on for too long. “If you truly believe your precious wizard intends to return the crown to his cantankerous trollop ex-lover instead of using it for himself, then you are more naive and gullible than I ever imagined.”

Tav scowled, rubbing her neck. “He promised,” she rasped. “He…”

“He promised,” the devil mocked. “Oh yes, I’m sure he did. I’m sure he meant it.”

“He wouldn’t lie! He’s never lied to me!”

Raphael tilted his horn-crowned head. Stared at her like she was an idiot. “Hasn’t he?” 

Just like before, Raphael was aiming for her soft spots - but this time, this one, was already bruised. He was right. Gale had lied. About the orb, about his feelings for Mystra, even about abandoning his desire to ascend. The first thing he’d done when he learned the true nature of the crown was consider how he could take advantage of it. Not the behaviour of a man changed. But Tav had faith in him. Believed in him. Her niggling doubts meant nothing. 

“No.” She said in defiance. Ignored the way her weak voice wobbled. “You’re just trying to poison me against him. You don’t understand anything.”

“Don’t I?” Raphael crooned, viciously amused. “I think it’s you who doesn't understand. Let me put it this way, so that even you can comprehend: why would a power-hungry magelet with a chip on his shoulder abandon decades of ambition for some little bint he found on the roadside, when he could have hundreds – thousands of warm and willing holes to wet his cock with if he becomes a so-called god? Do you think you’re worth that sacrifice? Does Gale think you are? I’m sure he says lots of sweet things when he’s inside you, just as I’m sure he said the same things to Mystra, and we all know how that worked out…”

“Stop,” Tav begged. Sobbed. 

“No,” the devil sneered. Utterly merciless. “It’s high time you faced the reality of your actions. You have doomed a future for the githyanki free from tyranny, you have doomed your friends’ chance to escape the emperor’s machinations, and you have doomed yourself, sweet pet, to reap what you sow – all for the sake of a man who rolled over you because you were the first woman in years to say yes. You wanted to enter my house without permission? Fine. Then you’ll stay for eternity.”

She recoiled in horror, the implication making her blood run cold. She’d rather he killed her and he knew it. “You can’t keep me here!”

“I think you’ll find I can, girl,” Raphael said, malicious, quiet. His gaze flayed her alive, peeled away layers of skin and muscle to stare at her very soul. “For in this house, in this pocket of Hell, I am the master, and that means I can do whatever I want.”

A sick, bitter pill to swallow: he was right.

“Fine!” Tav laughed maniacally, the futility of the situation driving her to reckless anger. “Fine, you evil bastard! I suppose you’ll have a pet squid soon, then. Have you always wanted one of those? Was it a boyhood dream, if you were a boy once? I hear ink stains are a bitch to get out of silk rugs.” As soon as she said it, Tav wished she had kept her mouth shut. She’d done everything wrong since entering that portal. Everything. Raphael’s shrewd hellish eyes narrowed as he considered something. Tav watched him raise his fingers, ready to snap, with dawning horror; if he did this, she wouldn’t just be stuck with him forever. She would owe him forever. A fate so much worse. “No! Wait! You don’t – I’m sure I won’t transform! It’s different in Hell, right?!” 

“I’d rather not take the chance,” Raphael murmured, enjoying this moment of despair. “I’m not too fond of tentacles, you see. And besides…I promised I could be your saviour, didn’t I? Even though you hardly deserve it, I'm nothing if not magnanimous, after all.”

CLICK. 

Such a small sound heralding a monumental, irreversible change.

Agony. The likes of which Tav couldn’t comprehend. Her skull splitting apart, bursting from the inside, her brains chewed up and spat out, eyes and teeth and tongue destroyed, sinuses burning…it only lasted for a few brief seconds, maybe, but the next thing she knew she was on her hands and knees. Frothy blood and bile oozed from her nose and mouth. Her body shook violently. Her head felt like it was full of water. She wasn’t sure, but she might have pissed herself a little bit. She stared up at the devil through bleary wet eyes and saw him watching her. Savouring her suffering. Floating in his palm was her tadpole, sluggish and covered in gore. Covered in her brains. 

“Hmmm…I suppose I could have used less force for the extraction,” Raphael mused, unapologetic. He squinted at the ugly cosmic horror larva with disdain. “I was led to believe these things were near-impossible to remove. Clearly not. Such weak magic. That worthless boy still has a lot to learn.” He curled his fingers inward and the tadpole caught fire, writhing and screaming as it died. Rendered to ash. Then he smiled at Tav, placid, almost business-like, as if he hadn’t just up-ended her entire existence. Her suffering had greatly improved his mood. “There we are. Now you won’t have to worry about those lovely guts of yours dissolving any time soon. Not before I get to sample them, at least.”

“I’d rather be a mind flayer,” Tav slurred quietly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt hollow. Without that tadpole – as awful as it had been – she couldn’t reach her friends or even the emperor to beg for help. She knew they were pragmatic. They would stick to the plan, even Gale. They’d realise something went wrong and cut their losses. Poor Orpheus. She’d known the risk, being the one breaking in. Made certain they wouldn’t risk storming this infernal psycho’s little castle to rescue her, not when the elder brain was so unstable and they were so close to vanquishing the Absolute cult, but at least pretending it was an option would’ve given her something to hold onto. 

“And ruin that delightful complexion of yours? Perish the thought.” The devil reached to wrap one big paw around her forearm and tugged her upright. Tav was too weak to pull away. She barely stayed on her feet. The room and everything in it swayed. Until it was forced to stop by his hot clawed hand holding her jaw firm. Raphael’s image swam into focus. He gently turned her head this way and that. He was examining her; examining his new property. His new trophy. “Can’t fault the magelet’s taste. You are a pretty little thing. And now you’re my pretty little thing.”

He pushed his thumb into her mouth. She could taste the sulphur and hellish magic even over the copper sticking to her gums and teeth. She bit him, tried to, but Raphael wasn’t phased. He dug his thumb claw into her tongue instead, pressing until he pierced the muscle, until Tav cried out. Fresh blood welled from the small puncture wound.

“Behave,” the devil simply said, like he was talking to a naughty puppy. 

“Never,” Tav spat. Raphael seemed to like that answer, if the sparkle in his eyes and his rich chuckle were any indication. 

“Oh, you’ll learn, my little pet. One way or the other.” He dragged his thumb out of her mouth, smearing blood and spit across her lips. His pupils expanded as he looked upon her. He found this arousing, Tav realised, more repulsed than she’d ever been in her life. 

“You make me sick,” she hissed. 

“You have no idea just how sick I could truly make you,” he purred around a sinister smile, “but we have all the time in the world for that, don’t we? Thanks to you, I’ve got a lot more work to do now. Plans to tweak, contingencies to set up, that sort of thing. I don’t expect you to understand, but unfortunately it means I won’t be able to break you in quite yet. But fret not, you shan’t be alone. Haarlep can keep an eye on you until I return.”

Tav didn’t get the chance to ask what a Haarlep was. Raphael displaced them both into the boudoir. So sudden, and she was still so unsteady. She’d have fallen on her face if Raphael wasn’t holding her. Instead she leaned on him until her vision stopped spinning. He chuckled cruelly. 

“Not to worry, love. I’ve got you.”

Tav yanked herself free – he let her go this time – and staggered away from him, collapsing onto the big bed nearby. She wasn’t the only one sprawled on those red silk sheets; a creature that looked like Raphael but softer, younger, and dressed much skimpier, lounged. He perked up with interest, peering at her. Two of them…Tav truly was in Hell.

“What’s this?” The lookalike asked in a perfect, if airy, imitation of Raphael’s voice. 

“A new pet. Clean her up. And don’t do anything else or you’ll be skinned and hung out to dry like Nubaldin. I mean it, Haarlep.” 

Another click of those devilish fingers and Raphael was gone. Haarlep crawled across the bed like a huge, nasty cat, eyeing Tav up and down.

“Hmm…not quite breeding stock, but I suppose you’ll do.” He pawed at her. “Come on, then. Get up.”

“Take your hands off me!” Tav cringed away, drooling pinkish red froth. “I’ll kill you, I swear it.”

Haarlep tutted, amused. “You couldn’t kill a mouse right now, little pet. And I don’t need your compliance to get you off this bed. There are many ways, and I can’t promise you’ll enjoy all of them…”

The suggestion in his voice made Tav grit her bloodied teeth. Her skin crawled. “You’re just as twisted as Raphael, aren’t you?”

Haarlep cackled. “Oh no, sweet thing. I’m much worse.”

Tav ended up in the luxurious bathing pool, only after Haarlep callously pulled her clothes and armour off, telling her she should get used to it because the concept of her privacy no longer existed. The steaming water seemed to heal her physical injuries, easing the savage pain in her skull, but that simply meant she had more cognizance to think about how awful her situation really was. Her attempt at drowning herself was thwarted by a heavy clawed hand pulling her head out of the water by her hair. They seemed to like doing that, these fiends.

“Now, now. Don’t make me charm you,” Haarlep chided as Tav coughed and sputtered. “As funny as it would be for my brat to come back to a floating corpse, he obviously doesn’t want you dead yet, and I’d rather not be flayed. It’s not as erotic as those priests of pain make it out to be, trust me.”

“Fuck you,” Tav spat, digging her nails into Haarlep’s hand. He didn’t seem to feel it. Just like his master. A fly biting a dragon.

“In due time, lovely. In due time. Now…do you prefer red or gold?”

Like an overzealous child with a new doll, Haarlep stuffed Tav into a gold silken house robe – sheer, reaching just above her knees, thin enough that her nipples were easy to see. By this point she was despondent, allowing him to pull her this way and that. When he deemed her “good enough” he grew bored of her and went back to lounging on the bed. Tav wandered the boudoir aimlessly, not really seeing anything, until she found herself on a balcony overlooking the destitute landscape of Avernus from a great height. The House of Hope must be floating somewhere, she thought absently. Isolated even in Hell. If she jumped, Tav wondered how long she’d be falling before she hit the ground and what kind of mess she’d leave behind.

“Don’t even think about it,” Haarlep cheerfully called to her. 

Tav slid to the ground, buried her face in her knees, and wept. 

-

Time passed differently, strangely, in Hell. Tav existed in a fugue state of misery, unable to be sure. Days, weeks, months could have passed since she failed to steal from Raphael; since Raphael stole her. Almost all of it had been spent in the boudoir, an incubus and cambion her keepers both. 

She sat on the balcony when Raphael came to her, as she often did. Passing the minutes, hours, staring out at Avernus. The devil had been away for a while. He smelled of fresh air, of the material plane, taunting her with what she’d never experience again. He seemed strangely pleased despite all his plans going awry. “I thought you might like to know that your friends destroyed the brain,” he told her as he poured himself some wine. “Baldur’s Gate – and Faerun as a whole, is saved.”

At least that was a relief. 

“And you should also know that Gale decided to use the crown of Karsus to ascend. I believe he is now calling himself the god of ambition…how very droll.” Although Tav had come to accept this was a likely outcome, the information still sank like a rock in her stomach; of course, the devil wasn’t done. “I had thought he might come knocking at my door, threatening to smite me should I not release your soul, but…it seems your darling has forgotten about you, pet. Much more interesting things to do now that he’s reached the Heavens, I would imagine.”

Tav bit her tongue. Hope truly came to these cursed halls to die. Snuffed out before it had a chance to unfurl, but she wouldn’t give this wretch the satisfaction of knowing she was upset. 

“So…what are you going to do, then? The crown is completely out of your reach.” She thought that would sting him. An acknowledgement of his own failure. Of a dream ruined. If he lashed out, all the better, because she’d know she’d got under his skin. Small (miniscule) victories. 

“Hmm…for now,” he hummed. He swirled the wine in his goblet as he spoke. “You see, I came to quite an interesting realisation. Had you honoured the deal, I could have taken the crown and ascended to Archdevil Supreme. Yes, I could have conquered the Hells and perhaps moved on to other realms to unite under my power, but there would have always been a place I simply couldn’t reach.”

“The heavens…” Tav breathed in slow, horrifying realisation. Raphael smiled widely, dark eyes glittering. 

“Yes, very good. Right where your little godlet is now. The very place he will eventually destroy. Just like Karsus, Gale Dekarios’ hubris will ruin him. Unlike Karsus, Gale will bring the heavens down with him, and when he does, who shall be there to gleefully sift through the ashes but I? You see, I will get the crown, my dear, sweet pet. All I have to do is wait.” He reached forward, tucking a lock of Tav’s hair behind her ear. His touch deceptively tender. Like a lover. “I should thank you, in fact. If you hadn’t broken into my home, it’s likely you would have convinced Gale to give the crown to Mystra, and then it truly would have been beyond my grasp. But without your voice of reason and support, well…old habits die hard, don’t they? I must say, I’m looking forward to the day the heavens crumble. The collapse of Karsus’ empire was breathtaking, but this…oh, this will be something else entirely. And don’t worry, pet. Whether it happens in one hundred years or one thousand, I’ll make sure you’re there to see it, too.”

[viennacherries]

First of all I love your work!! I keep rereading kiss the cook. I have a request God! Gale/Tav. A spicy fic about Tav and God Gale’s first time since he’s turned into a god.

anon. anon im so sorry. this turned into angst. please forgive me <3

NSFW

read it on ao3

~~~

Tav hasn't seen Gale since he left in search of the crown, promising to find her and bring her with him to Elysium. She'd believed him, but she thought he'd have come to her by now.

It's been 6 months. She's starting to lose faith.

She isn't completely convinced that he's going to come to the party. Withers insists he sent Gale an invite, but she's trying not to hold her breath. 'Trying' being the key-word here.

The truth is, she's desperate to see him again. She aches for him. He completes a part of her that she didn't even know was missing. He's soft and gentle with her in a way no one ever has been before, he's all light touches and tender caresses. He smells like old books and cinnamon, and he brings her more comfort than anything else could. She'll do anything for him. She just wants him back.

Withers is encouraging everyone to raise their glasses, finishing his toast, and her heart sinks at the realisation that Gale won't be turning up.

She wishes he would turn up.

Shadowheart is midway through saying something to her, clearly trying to take her mind off of him despite it being a fruitless cause, when a blinding beam of light flashes down from the sky.

It's like a bolt of lighting, the speed at which it descends, and there's a long pause where the light persists as if frozen in time, before it slowly fades away. Gale stands in its place and she runs to him, ecstatic, before her footfalls slow as she takes him in.

He did it. He found the crown. He became a God.

He looks so different. His whole body shimmers chrome, catching the light like an errant jewel in a necklace. His hair, once soft and flowing, seems sculpted to his head and body like a statue, every hint of his natural colour replaced with the same otherworldly silver as the rest of him. His eyes are glowing pits, no longer the soft warm brown she so loved looking into. They seem to create their own light, which wisps and curls around his eyebrows like ink through water. He looks glorious.

He looks new.

He spots her, smiles, and crosses the remaining distance. He stops a foot away.

"I had hoped I'd see you here." He says, and his voice. It's so different now. It echoes and reverberates as though he's stood in a vast cave, it screams of power and strength. It's his voice, still, but it doesn't sound like him anymore. There's something missing from behind his words that makes them feel slightly empty.

"I..." She feels shellshocked, "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Forget you? Never." His words make her heart sing, but his tone is all wrong. She knows he means it, but it just sounds so... lifeless.

He keeps talking, "I'm afraid time works quite differently in Elysium. I didn't realise how long I'd been gone, until I received Withers' summon."

All the time she spent, the months dragging on, missing and longing for him, had felt like mere moments to him. It makes her feel a little bitter, but she pushes the feeling down.

He's still talking. Something about 'the finer points of divine ascension' and how 'mortal comprehension' isn't enough to fully understand. He found the crown, he reforged it, he took control of it. The Karsite Weave has become the Galarian Weave. He commands it.

Tav swallows around the lump in her throat, "well, I'm ready to come with you."

His face twists into some sort of amusement, as if he finds her eagerness endearing. When he speaks, his tone is that of a teasing reprimand. "I see you won't be claiming the dominion of 'patience' in the heavens. All in good time, my love. For now, mortality has one more night of enjoyment in store..."

He takes her hand in his, and her skin tingles where they make contact, as though molten electricity courses through his veins. He leads her away from the party, and she hears the woops and catcalls of the rest of her friends as they fade away from view.

When he presses his lips to hers, it feels like static shock. When he runs his hands down her arms, it feels like the air right before lighting strikes. When he slowly undresses her, ready to worship her body as if she's the immortal being, not him, her skull tingles and her eyes water. It's so intense. He's barely even touched her and it's so, so intense.

He strips her slowly. Reverently. He has nothing but time. He has no need to rush, no need to worry. Everything is so different now. There's no hiding in tents trying to be private, there's no sneaking off in the night and tucking themselves back into their clothes before they get caught, there's no stolen kisses when everyone's looking away. He has eternity. They have eternity.

When she's laid on the ground, stripped bare for him, he lifts her legs over his shoulders and descends on her core with his mouth. He moves his lips like he's sending a prayer through her body, like she's the conduit to his devotion. His tongue ghosts over her nerves and she feels like a lighting rod the way his energy travels through her, as though seeking to ground itself through her fingertips as she digs them into the dirt.

And when he lays his body across hers, enters her with one smooth thrust, it's blinding pleasure. Every stroke he takes has lights blinking behind her eyes, every thrust like a jolt of power travelling up to her throat. When she finds her release it crackles through her like an exposed wire touching water, and when his follows shortly after her vision goes white with ecstasy at the feeling, as though his very essence is spreading through her marrow.

They lay together for a while, staring at the stars. He tells her of Elysium, of the endless ocean of constellations and the rivers of pure light. He speaks about his domain, how the Crown of Karus is kept safe at the centre of it, how he protects it with his immense newfound power. He waxes poetic about the shrines that have already been erected in his honour; several in Thay, and a grand temple under construction in Amn.

It dawns on her, all at once, that he hasn't asked how she's been.

She feels a pit open up in her stomach.

He tells her about the fathomless power at his disposal. He tells her about dragging the crown from the Chinonthar. He tells her about his disagreement with Mystra, when she learnt of his ascension, and his plans to challenge her further in time.

He doesn't ask about his mother. He doesn't ask about Tara. He doesn't ask about her.

It feels like she's ripping in half.

All too soon they're standing at the edge of the river.

"So, it's time for me to return to the heavens. The question is - do you wish to join me? To become a God at my side?"

Her stomach lurches.

She wants to. She wants to remain at his side, for all of eternity. She wants to go with him and build a home with him in the sky, a domain of magic of their own creation.

But she also wanted to create a home with him in Waterdeep. She wanted nights together curled up next to the fireplace, while he played piano with his magic and read arcane books to her. She wanted to sit on his balcony with him, watching the water, holding his hand in the evening breeze. She wanted the date night he promised, with his homemade hundur sauce. She wanted to meet his mother, have tea with her, call her 'mother-in-law'. She wanted to marry him.

And as she stands with him, as he is now, she takes him in. His eyes are luminous trenches, no longer a warm chocolate brown. His skin, once tanned and soft, is cold and silver. He doesn't smell of old books, or cinnamon; he smells like petrichor - like earth soaked in thunder and rain.

She stands with him, hand in hand. But he doesn't feel like home anymore. It feels like he's a million miles away. Like he's already gone back to the heavens.

"I can't"

When he leaves, she wishes she went with him. Then she wishes he'd stayed. Then she wishes he'd never found the crown.

She wishes he'd chosen her.

She sits, knees clutched to her chest, and she sobs.

A small ball of fur and feathers curls into her side. A tressym.

They mourn together.

[lanafofana]

WIP wednesday

I want to write something cute and fluffy and sweet but all my heart knows is hot chip and angst.

The Inescapable Inevitability of Goodbye

It started with Lae’zel. Tall and proud. Regal. Astride a dragon that Tav had been powerless to talk her down from. The look she had given Tav could have cleaved her chest wide open. A lifetime of words in one fierce stare and then she had nodded, just once, and the dragon had launched to the skies.

Goodbyes were inevitable, she reminded herself, heart pounding with loss.  

Next had been Karlach and Wyll. Beautiful, incadescent Karlach who had nearly given in to her fate but for dear Wyll, the voice of reason and conviction to change her stubborn mind at last. Their goodbyes had been hasty, desperately quick. Tav’s not even sure she could remember the words they exchanged, nothing specific.

But long after they’re gone, in the secret quiet places of her mind she hears Karlach’s voice saying, “My friend, my companion, I adore you.” She keeps it close to her heart so she might be warmed by it when all other sources of warmth were sapped from her. 

She’d hardly taken a beat to process the emptiness of a Faerûn without Karlach Cliffgate and Wyll Ravengard when Astarion had gasped, his skin flaking away like burning ashes. He’d run for cover and that had been that. Another gaping wound in her chest. She wondered how it kept beating. 

Standing at the edge of the docks, grasping for something to feel victorious about Gale had materialized, staring at the horizon. Right. The crown. His duty. She was proud of him, he’d come such a long way from the wizard who had fallen out of the portal so long ago. Traded his pride for humility, his ambition for wisdom. His course was set, soon he would retrieve the crown and reforge it, taking it to his goddess. 

Tav smiled and cupped his face, ignoring his surprise. No matter how long they took dithering at the door, the goodbyes were inevitable, she had learned to grasp at what comfort she could when she could. So she stroked his beard with her thumb and memorized the exact shade of his eyes when they’re emblazoned by a smoldering city. Before he could give voice to the concern in his gaze she’d patted his cheek fondly and stepped away. 

Their night of celebration passed in a blur of music, laughter, drinking, dancing and fucking. When she woke up and rolled over to see Halsin already looking at her softly she felt another hole burning through her chest and she hated that she wasn’t even surprised. Only resigned.

Goodbyes were inevitable. 

When he began to explain the path he was now set on, his place in this post-Absolute world she smiled and nodded. Said all the right things. Because she had learned a long time ago that goodbyes were not for her, never for her, they were for other people. An opportunity for them to glean a measure of comfort and it was her place to provide it.

So she smiled while her heart cracked open and she congratulated and she soothed while the brittle spaces between her ribs turned to dust.  She promised to visit because lying came as naturally to her as breathing. And then she left.

Sometimes you had to be the one to leave first when someone told you goodbye. 

She lingers in the city, telling herself it’s to help the wounded. Tending and nurturing and healing she fills her days with servitude to those in need. At night she sits at her window, staring out at the view being rebuilt. Each night the scenery changes little by little, the wounds closing, the Gate piecing itself back together. Erasing the scars with repairs. 

She sits, and she watches, and she plucks at the chords of her heart, testing how sharply the pain twangs, and thinks about how a thing must be broken beyond recognition before it can be fixed. And wonders, if there’s nobody left to help with the restoration, can a thing be pieced back together at all.

Or if it really matters, when all her heart has ever learned to play was the same melancholy tune.  

She wakes one day and Shadowheart and her parents are gone. Jaheira and Minsc and Boo too. Forging the new paths of their lives. Tav wonders what it must feel like to hold a world of possibility in your own hands. Is it heavy? Does it burn? She packs her things and goes to the dock one last time. 

The sky is no longer on fire, the streets are no longer littered with corpses. When she drinks in the air she can smell fish and wet stone and something briney that gusts in off the water. 

“Good bye, sun,” she says to the gulls that cry over the harbor. 

“Good bye, sea,” she says to the horizon, blue and sparkling in the late morning light.  

“Good bye,” she says to her adventure, the Gate, and the million and one tiny little might-have-beens that tumble out of her heart and into the sea. 

She dries her face and tells herself the ache in her chest is a bruise and not a tear. 

“It’s time to go home.” 

[whatacaitastrophe]

Everything Has Changed - Prologue

Song Inspo for this Fic: “Everything Has Changed” by Taylor Swift

Spotify Playlist: Here

THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO MY FIRST FIC - This story will make a lot more sense if you read Is It Over Now? first.

Chapter Warnings: Mystra

Prologue

“There’s no coming back from that for you. Not as my lover, and until you realize the absolute selfishness of your actions, not as my friend either”

Fallon’s words rang in Gale’s head his entire journey to Elysium. It would have been easy for the demi-god to just conjure a portal to take him there immediately, but Gale didn’t want to go back right away. Not back to The Outer Plane, not back to Elysium, and certainly not back to Mystra. He knew what awaited him upon his return. Mystra was very clear in her instructions: go back to the mortal realm, keep Fallon from making the mistake of falling in love with Astarion, then come back to Elysium with a renewed sense of adoration for the goddess of magic.

Nothing Mystra did was ever solely for Gale’s benefit; and thus far, his repeated experience was that the goddess looked out for her own interests alone. It was Mystra’s jealousy of Gale’s love for Fallon that brought on her ultimatum when Gale delivered the crown:

Accept her offer to become a demi-god, a god in training and live with her in Elysium as her chosen lover until he is ready for full godhood, or lose his connection to Mystra, The Weave, and magic entirely. It was an impossible choice and, in the moment, Gale did what he thought was the best possible outcome of the two. 

As it turned out, Gale chose poorly. For instead of becoming a god with the ability to give Fallon everything that he had promised her and more, he became trapped in Elysium, unable to contact the elven rogue, and it nearly killed her. Not only that, but it pushed her right into Astarion’s arms. 

“You chose your pride, and your ambition, and your goddess , and you left me here to fucking rot.” The words Fallon spat at him when the whole truth came out were made of purest venom, and when she’d put it the way she did, it made Gale feel even worse about his decision. 

That was the beginning of the end. 

When Fallon kicked him out and all but said she never wanted to see him again, Gale decided to take his time returning to Mystra. After all, he’d never given the goddess an exact timeframe on how long he would be gone, so there was no hurry. 

He went to Waterdeep. Fallon was not the only person Gale abandoned when choosing to seek the Crown of Karsus, he had abandoned his mother as well. In another life, Waterdeep would have been his first stop. In another life, Fallon would have been at his side as his fiancée. Gale knew for a fact that Tara kept in touch with Morena, but Gale knew his mother. Not hearing from her son in over two years was going to come at a great cost to Gale—  namely, that she would never let him forget it for as long as she lived. 

It was just another addition to the ever growing list of people Gale hurt when he made his choice, his true folly, that day on the docks after the Netherbrain was defeated. How different his life would be if he’d just listened to Fallon and simply returned the pieces of the crown to Mystra instead of challenging her. 

Gale spent more nights than he cared to admit crying to his mother and to Tara about all the mistakes he’d made, and how he didn’t know how to fix them. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; Gale knew that the moment he told Mystra he’d rather be human and free of her than a demi-god shackled to her for eternity that Mystra would take away his magic, his connection to The Weave and to her, with a snap of her fingers. Much like the early days of having the orb in his chest, Gale and Tara spent hours upon hours in his tower in Waterdeep, trying to find some sort of loophole, only to come up short. Most nights when Gale cried to Tara and his mother, it was because he already knew what he had to do. What he had to give up. 

Even before they were ever romantically involved, Fallon quickly became one of his closest friends. Gale would even argue that Fallon was one of the first true friends he’d ever had period . Gale would eventually get over the fact that Fallon moved on romantically, but seeing the look of disappointment on her face and hearing the disgust in her voice when she renounced their friendship, too? It was too much, and he never wanted Fallon to look at him or speak to him that way ever again. 

Taking away his magic as a punishment for breaking up with Mystra felt almost unnecessarily cruel, even for the goddess; but after everything Gale had put others through in the last year, it was a punishment that, perhaps, to him at least, was very nearly, if not entirely, deserved. 

Knowing what was coming doesn’t make it easier, though. Returning to Elysium felt like a bad dream. Just as she had done when Gale came to deliver the crown, Mystra met him at the gates. 

She knew. 

“Gale of Waterdeep, you have finally returned to me.” She greets him with a fake saccharine smile. “Was your trip successful? Did you convince the elf not to be with the vampire?”

Her tone is haughty and condescending, and Gale frowned. “Why ask if you know the answer?” 

Mystra only smirked. 

Of course, Gale knew the answer to his own question as much as Mystra already knew the answer to hers. The goddess enjoyed being right, and she liked hearing it out loud. In the same vein, Mystra wasn’t just going to take away his connection to her and The Weave simply because she already knew what Gale was planning to do. No, she was most certainly going to make Gale say the words himself. 

“This did not go in your favor, and, once again, you have come back to me with the intention of not doing as I commanded,” Mystra dared him to deny it with a piercing look. “Is being my chosen, loving me, and being loved by me truly such a burden?”

“It is when everything you ask of me suits no one but yourself!” Gale exclaimed . “I dedicated my entire life to serving you, in more ways than one,  I might add, and it was never enough to be worthy. I am well aware that I’ve made many mistakes in my thirty-five years of living, enormous ones, but not a single one of those mistakes deserved punishment such as sacrificing myself 'for the greater good', or being told who I can and cannot love without suffering additional retribution! Nothing good has ever come to me by being your servant, and I’m embarrassed to say that it took me this long to realize it’s not worth it.”

Mystra stared at him in silence for several long, painfully long, moments. She knows this is the chance she will ever have to make him squirm, so Gale really shouldn’t have been surprised she made him wait. “Then what is it that you desire, Gale of Waterdeep? Tell me, and I will make it so.” 

This is it, the moment of truth. His final chance at making things right with the people he’d come to care for most, or with the goddess before him. “If being a god means being tethered to you for eternity, and living a life that none of my loved ones or I can be proud of, then I don’t want it. I’m done. With you, with being a god, with The Weave, all of it. I’d rather be plain old Gale Dekarios, loved by the people who matter to me , than the great Gale of Waterdeep, a false god used by you to be made an example of.”

Mystra exhaled sharply. “Very well.” 

It happened with a simple snap of her fingers. Within seconds, Gale felt different. Gone was the faint glow of divine light encompassing his body, gone was the sensation of being enveloped in The Weave’s embrace, that feeling of magic that always seemed to linger on his skin his whole life. All replaced by the same hollow sensation he had only felt once before, when he’d stood near Fallon in the Underdark while she had the flower from the Sussur tree in her pocket. 

Except now, the emptiness was permanent, and he knew it. Immediately, Gale started to panic. Time slowed down, and he couldn’t remember how to breathe properly. He felt the loss of The Weave and his magic in a grief so immense it could fill the sea from here to Velrea. Gale dropped to his knees in tears. What does he do now? How did he move on from here? 

The answer, it seemed, was something else Mystra had already planned for. A portal opened nearby, and she stepped through it. Seconds later, Gale was transported through space and time as Mystra dropped him on the plush rug in a familiar suite at a familiar tavern. He was disoriented at first, too lost in his grief to realize there were conversations happening or that someone was in front of him, pulling him close. That was when he heard Fallon’s voice. 

“What have you done to him, you wretched bitch ?!” Fallon screamed at his goddess. His former goddess. 

“I have not done anything Gale Dekarios has not asked for,” Mystra said coldly. “He knew the consequences should he chose to defy me, to turn his back on me, and yet, he chose you anyway. And so, I bring him to you, Fallon of Baldur’s Gate, for he is your problem now, in all his imperfect, entirely ordinary and human disgrace .” 

Mystra says nothing else before stepping back through her portal, and Gale vaguely registers the looks on Fallon and Astarion’s faces as shock.

“She– she took my magic. Fallon– it’s gone. I can’t feel The Weave anymore. Oh gods. It’s gone!” Gale cried, inconsolable. 

There was no other sound in the suite besides Gale’s own panicked sobs. “It’s gone.” he repeats, dejected and hopeless. 

Astarion heaved a heavy sigh. “Well,” Astarion said as he reached for Fallon’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I guess I’d better make sure we’ve got enough food for three, then.” There was no hesitancy in his voice and Fallon nodded in agreement: Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, mortal, non-magical, and human, is coming with them to Velrea, whether he liked it or not.

Chapter List

[theseshipsshallsail]

John’s breaths mist the frigid, November air where he’s crouched - haunting and haunted - just shy of the snow-covered hut denoting their garrison in Stalag Luft III. One hand splayed upon the splintered, wooden porch slats; the other, tangled in the lank, matted curls that crown the top of his head. Twisting. Wrenching. Praying to a God he no longer believes in that it’ll all just… stop.

Cacophonous thoughts: overlaid and impenetrable.

Straight-forward notions made impossibly complex: basic truths, perverted by lies.

The bail-out. 

The townsfolk. 

The forest. 

The train.

They fog his mind like an English pea-souper; futility and frustration hitting harder than the turnip hooch cooked up in the neighbouring compound. The urge to run is damn-near unshakeable, yet with both boots planted on the step below - long legs cramping at the awkward angle - he shivers as much from the biting wind as the Krauts’ mocking laughter: viscerally furious at his broken brain’s betrayal. 

Its latent ability to cripple his self-possession in ways he’d never before deemed possible.

Something fundamental’s shifted at his core, and gritting his teeth he wants to scream at his inadequacy - would do, perhaps, if it weren’t for the boys in the barracks to his six. 

Their stoic leader - a sheer force of nature - who even now sits jury-rigging a kriegie radio, and for whom John needs to pull himself together. 

He’s scaring them, he’s certain. Scaring Gale, in particular. He hates being the reason for the doubt in their eyes, but there’s no ignoring the cut-off conversations that betray their misgivings, either: the wary looks so clear and calculating they make his blood boil. He’s leery of becoming some anecdotal camp tale. Just another body gunned down in retribution. Yet entropy, he finds, comes all-too-easy, so it’s little wonder he fails to clock the creak of rusty door hinges over his fight-or-flight self-flagellation.

The familiar gaited footsteps approaching from his left. 

But the barest graze to his lower back when the other man settles beside him?

The searing lick of warmth he brings from thigh to hip to broken-winged shoulder?

Oh, that he registers.

That, John grasps onto in shameful desperation: a fleeting shred of closeness; touching, but not. 

It’s no simple task, he’ll admit - rounding out his jagged edges - but huddling into his upturned collar he savours the blue-sky promise beyond their current stagnation.

Chases the unbridled sunshine of Gale Cleven’s just-for-him grin.

“You and me, Buck,” he whispers; a repetition and a vow. “You and me…”

Because he knows: he’s always known.

Even if sometimes it feels like a distant dream.

[loquaciousquark]

Got spoiled twice in casual browsing this afternoon, so decided to go ahead and play through the epilogue on my original Tavish save set so I'd at least get the comfort of seeing the big stuff for the first time on my own. (Thanks to @eponymous-rose for keeping me company despite spoilers!)

I am honestly SO HAPPY with 99% of the epilogue! Everything with Wyll, Karlach, Jaheira, Halsin....if I keep going I'm just going to name all the characters but ESPECIALLY WYLL AND KARLACH. Oh my gosh, the hints towards finding a forge in the Hells! Wyll's eye! His armor looks so unbelievably dumb but I guess when you're living hand to mouth in Avernus you make what you can get. I bet it's not as good as that Helldusk armor I had him in, but oh well.

Tara was there! We got to talk to Tara! And tell everyone Astarion & Tavish were dating! And so many people wanted to talk about what we were doing and what we were up to--ahh, I loved it. I will say I cackled like a loon at the idea of Tav giving a lecture at Blackstar Academy or whatever it is and Astarion sitting at Gale's desk kicking up his feet and knocking over all his desk decorations.

Scratch got new animations! Throwing the astral prism as a fetch object was absolutely inspired, and the little animation set where he just sits down and gnaws on it and throw it around--so unbelievably cute. And he sleeps! He sleeps on its side and it's so STINKIN cute! And the owlbear going to live with Shadowheart--I'm cryyyyying, I'm so happy for her and her cottage and her hoard of animals and her million flowers I'm sure are there.

And even the little QoL things like having a chest full of clothes and dye! So thoughtful and nice! I would have killed that halfling for a potion of animal speaking, though - I'll drink one before the Netherbrain next time to make sure it carries over.

The only teensy weensy tiny itty bitty complaint I have is that I wanted to be able to kiss Astarion at this party. Just once! And I wanted him to go out and be merry with everybody! I'll accept that he's feeling skulky and be satisfied immensely with my hugs, but Tavish on the new run hasn't gotten to Moonrise yet, so I'm starving for a lack of kisses here, augh.

I loved every word Withers said. I loved every second/third/fourth round of dialogue for all the companions. Jergal is such a dang bro and he seemed so enthusiastic to get to hang with the fam. Bless!

I do wonder if it's possible to try to kill people at this party - there were certainly enough death-causing implements and scrolls floating around!

And then the END CREDITS?????????????? Raphael ranting about THE CROWN OF KARSUS?????????????? This does explain why Gale made a point of saying it had gone back to Mystra when we most deffo left that sucker in the river, but HELLS-RELATED DLC???? I THOUGHT KARLACH AND WYLL WERE JUST LEAVING THEIR FATES OPEN-ENDED AND THEN ACTUALLY JK WE MIGHT BE GOING THERE??????????????????

Surely this is a promise of upcoming DLC, surely. I have no idea if they intend this to be paid or free (honestly I think it should be paid) but either way I'll throw every dollar I have at them if and when it comes out. How is Raphael alive. How is Mystra going to keep the crown from him. How are we going to get the gang back together. What does Zariel's area look like!! Will we get to go past level 12!! How is Raphael ALIVE!!

I honestly just had the biggest grin on my face the entire time. Every conversation, every hug, every gesture. What a complete delight, and I can't believe we get it for free.

(Sidenote: I was also beyond overjoyed that this patch also fixed the Astarion epilogue, the broken scars cutscene, and apparently the kisses. Again, Tavish hasn't gotten to at-will kisses yet, and I'm DYING.)

(Sidesidenote: I couldn't get any of my first game saves to load after a certain point [turned out to be due to an old mod I'd uninstalled] and troubleshooting that to get the saves to work again was honestly really fun, ahh.)

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

As Gale once told Karlach, time works differently in the Outer Planes. His time as a god was significantly longer, and infinitely busier than the passage of time on Faerûn. Oh, he had learned much about the roles, responsibilities, and most importantly, the pleasures of being a part of the divine. Pleasures he wished to share with his beloved.

Before his rise, before he claimed the title of the God of Ambition, Gale had felt torn. He consistently debated on forgoing the crown, curing his orb, and joining Karlach in the Hells, fighting by her side as he worked on a permanent fix for her engine. It was that engine that twisted Gale's fears, love, and ambition to wear the crown completely and become a god. The summons from Wither's reminded him of the promise a mortal Gale once made. His care for Karlach remained, forged by the memories of the love they once shared. Perhaps seeing her again would reignite such emotions.

The God of Ambition arrived at the party before Karlach and stood patiently to the side, awaiting her emergence from the Hells. When she finally emerged from the portal, he remained patient, allowing her to finish the initial greetings with everyone else. "Let the mortals play for a while," he thought. Then, with a clear of his throat, he stepped down the slope into view to grace her with his presence.

"It has been quite some time. I suppose my appearance might surprise you, but I can assure you, I've done nothing but improve myself, vastly so."

Gale had promised he would catch up with her in the Hells. That he needed to, firstly, return the crown to Mystra so he could return to his full potential without the orb's restraints. Then he would find a way to her, and resolve her own dilemma here. That was the only reason she shakingly agreed to go to Avernus in the first place. She trusted him to follow through with every fibre.

Days became weeks, slowly dripping into months. Karlach kept all manners of Hellish denizens at bay while she trekked to the House of Hope. Where she hunkered down, and waited. Hope was her only company, and she knew she couldn't stay here much longer. Raphael may be gone, but others will come claim what was his soon enough. If Gale was to use the portal they had previously, he would end up here. They would reunite faster.

Oh how she worried, though. What was taking so long? Had Mystra gone back on her deal, had he not been able to cure the orb? Did she kill him for his retaliation against her?

Karlach was preparing to leave the House after she and Hope found out there was to be a cleansing when Withers' invitation arrived. This was her chance to find out what had happened to her love. To find him, if he couldn't get to Avernus - she could bring him back now.

She saw the shimmer of silver in the corner of her eyes as she was warmly greeted by the others, not clocking it as Gale for some time before a double take. Ignoring the warning and concerned glances from the other companions, she went to meet...whoever this really was, half way.

It looked as if Gale had been cut from metal. It certainly looked like him but this...air about him. It made her stomach churn. He hadn't taken the crown to Mystra as he promised - or if he had, he certainly changed his mind...

"You..." Karlach breathing became heavy, flames increasing in intensity. What was happening...where was Gale? Her Gale. "You left me in the HELLS, to go galivanting around in fucking Heaven?! Oh, good for you! What have you been up to, hm?! Sipping wine, admiring your reflection? What have I been doing?! Barely surviving the Gods damn days waiting for YOU!"

Tears welled in her eyes but they disappeared into steam before they could even fall properly. "Y-You said you'd find me... That we'll get me fixed and go to Waterdeep... I thought you wanted to show me your tower - your city! You lied to me..."

[melzula]

Sozin’s Comet

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of injuries, mentions of burn wounds

request: Could you write a Fire Lilies blurb about Zuko's and Princess! Reader's fight against Azula during Sozin's Comet?

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The torrid breeze was uncomfortably hot and dry against your skin as you sat on the back of Appa’s saddle and stared out into the reddened skies. Sozin’s comet was beautiful, but you couldn’t help the sense of sadness you felt knowing that something so gorgeous would be used for such selfish, sinister intentions. The royal palace was rapidly approaching, your nerves beginning to show as you fidgeted with the shark tooth hanging from your neck, and it was with one final glance at the comet soaring through the sky that you swallowed down your fears and worries. Everything you’d gone through, the heartache you’d endured, the training you’d done, all of it had led you to this moment in time, and there was no doubt in mind that you were ready for the fight.

Zuko sits at the reigns, guiding Appa through the skies and mentally preparing for the fight against his sister. You haven’t spoken much since your departure from the White Lotus campgrounds, but he knows it’s due to your need to think and meditate before going into such an important battle. A lot has happened for you over the last twenty four hours, and the strength you posses amazes Zuko to no end and encourages him to push through. The banished Prince hadn’t planned to fight for the throne nor become the Fire Lord so soon, but he acknowledged the fact that it was the only way the two of you would ever be able live a long, happy life together. Zuko would restore balance with your help as well as the rest of the Gaang, and then this war could finally be over.

Down below Azula’s coronation takes place, her head bowed low as she prepares to take on the headpiece traditionally worn by the Fire Lord. However, the Fire sage freezes uneasily at the sight of your fast approaching trio, and with Appa’s loud bellow Azula’s frenzied eyes look up to see the three of you now standing before her.

“Sorry, but you’re not going to become Fire Lord today,” Zuko states firmly. “I am.”

“You’re hilarious,” Azula replies with mock laughter.

“And you’re going down,” Katara retorts firmly. Azula’s eyes shift from your friend to you, her lips curling into a snide smile at the sight of your solemn features. You should be used to her maliciousness by now, but there’s something in the way that her eyes seem to glint with excitement at the prospect of fighting you that has you taking a step backward.

“I expected better from you, Princess,” she coos mockingly, lips curling into a sneer.

“Enough is enough, Azula. You’ve been a bully all your life and that ends now.”

“Such a sweet sentiment,” she utters sarcastically before rising from her position on the ground. “You want to be Fire Lord, Zuzu? Fine, let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother, the showdown that was always meant to be— Agni Kai!”

You expect Zuko to deny her challenge, to call her crazy and demand another option, but to your surprise he replies with a scowl, “You’re on.”

“Zuko,” you chide gently, “she��s just trying to trick you, you can’t do this. Don’t fall for it.”

“I know what I’m doing. I can take her.”

“But even you admitted to your uncle that you would need help facing Azula,” Katara argues, equally disturbed at the idea of an Agni Kai between the two siblings.

“There’s something off about her,” Zuko notes. “I can’t explain it, but she’s slipping. And this way, no one else has to get hurt.”

His golden eyes meet your own in an apologetic stare, his warm hands coming up to cup your cheeks and pull your face closer to his own so that he may gift you with a comforting kunik. Your anxiety is growing by the second, but the way in which he holds you so close and secure is enough to quell your fears for now.

“It’s going to be alright,” he soothes gently. “I promise.”

“I can’t lose anyone else,” you whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek that Zuko is quick to wipe away.

“And you won’t.”

“Oh, enough already,” Azula snarls harshly. “Are you going to face me or not?”

With one final kiss to the forehead, Zuko releases you before taking his position across the courtyard from his sister. You stand on the sidelines with Katara, her hand held tightly in your own as you prepare to watch the match about to take place.

“It’s going to be okay,” Katara comforts. “Zuko knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope you’re right...”

“I’m sorry it has to end this way, brother,” Azula says with a smirk while unceremoniously removing her robe and tossing it to the ground.

“No, you’re not,” Zuko utters solemnly, and with a smirk Azula shoots the first blast of fire— the Agni Kai has begun.

Brilliant blasts of blue and red light up the courtyard as Zuko and Azula battle. Both fight with an intensity and ferocity like you’ve never seen before, the rooftops that surround them are on fire, but neither sibling seems to let up. Both are equally matched and filled with determination to win, but a blast that Azula narrowly manages to miss has her eyes widening in consternation. Her brows furrow with rage before she charges at Zuko, but a spiraling kick that vaguely reminds you of a move you’d seen previously performed by Aang sends Azula flying through the air until she tumbles to a stop. Her hair hangs wildly from her face as she rises back to her feet, appearance disheveled as she heaves and eyes burning with hatred for the brother she had deemed weaker than her the moment she learned what weakness was.

“No lightning today?” Zuko questions almost tauntingly. “What’s the matter, afraid I’ll redirect it?”

“What is he doing??” You utter in quiet disbelief. You can feel your nerves beginning to return at the deranged look on Azula’s features, and before you even realize your feet are moving you find yourself rushing towards the scene with Katara.

“Oh, I’ll show you lightning!”

Thunder booms from the sky as Azula begins to conjure the blue light, fingertips swirling in grand circular movements as she harnesses its power and readies the lightning to strike. From across the way Zuko stands in ready position; his shoulders are relaxed and he takes a small breath as he prepares himself to deflect her attack.

Everything seems to move in slow motion once Azula’s crazed eyes leave her brother and focus on your figure. Your features are sullen and fretful as you watch on, completely defenseless and unsuspecting of an attack. If it hadn’t been for you Zuko never would have become such a disappointment to the family. If it weren’t for you he never would have left to join your little group. If it weren’t for you Azula would have been crowned Fire Lord by now with Mai and Ty Lee still at her side. For some reason beyond her comprehension Zuko loved you, and it seemed it was up to her to teach the both of you a lesson. There was no room for weakness when it came to winning, and she’d make sure Zuko learned this good and well.

With a smirk and a sudden, fluid motion of her fingertips Azula’s blast of lightening flies straight towards you and Katara. Your body freezes in place and your first instinct is to shield her from the attack. Zuko’s eyes widen in horror as he realizes the danger you’re in, that that your life is mere seconds away from ending at the hands of his sister.

“No!” He shouts desperately, and a horrified shriek falls from your lips as the lightning strikes Zuko right in the chest. His body crumples to the floor, convulsing as the shocks of electricity course through him, and though Katara attempts to hold you back she can’t stop you from sprinting towards him.

“Zuko!” You cry out, vision blurry with tears as you rush towards his side only to suddenly be knocked off of your feet by the blast of fire you narrowly manage to avoid. Azula’s maniacal laughter sends chills down your spine as you scramble back onto your feet and skillfully avoid the relentless balls of fire she hurdles at you.

“You were never good enough for my brother!” She sneers. “You made him weak!”

“I never needed your approval,” you glower. With the motion of a roundhouse kick you guide the nearby water out from the stream through the use of your foot and send shards of ice hurtling towards Azula. She doges most of them, but one mages to rip through her sleeve and nick the skin of her bicep. She growls, golden irises aflame with anger and resentment, and just as she raises her hands to attack Katara is on the defensive.

“Go, I’ve got your back!” She calls to you, and you don’t waste another minute before rushing back to Zuko’s side. Falling to your knees beside his barely conscious body, you use your strength to flip him onto his backslide so that you have access to his wound. His robes are tattered and a gnarly scar is already beginning to settle against his skin. There isn’t much time.

You gather water from the air, a feat that’s much more difficult than usual considering how dry the atmosphere is but you manage, and with your powers at the ready you carefully rest your hands on Zuko’s chest and begin the healing process.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur quietly, tears welling in your eyes, “you’re going to be okay.”

A loud crash pulls your attention away from Zuko, and before you have time to react a gale of fire comes launching straight towards you. With wide eyes and a panicked gasp you attempt to use the water in your hands to create a shield of ice to block the attack, but your reflexes are too slow and the shield isn’t thick enough, and with a deafening crack the ice shatters and leaves you vulnerable to the flames.

The pained yelp that leaves you the moment the flames come into contact with your skin is gut wrenching for Katara who lies a few feet away in the rubble. Your first instinct was to hide behind your hands, and though the ice had lessened the force of the blast it hadn’t stopped the damage you’d endured. Your flesh is aflame and the pain is unbearable, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to heal them, but bending only seems to worsen the ache.

“You’re nothing without your bending,” Azula cackles before returning her attention to your fellow water bender who is now back on her feet and rushing to hide behind one of the pillars. “Come back here, peasant!”

With Azula distracted you rush to the canal and stick your hands into the cool, running water. Anguished sobs fall past your lips as you push through the pain. You need to be able to bend so that you can protect yourself against another attack and, more importantly, so you can heal Zuko. You work so that burns become tolerable, not worrying just yet about completely healing them, and when you feel that you’re ready you remove your hands from the water and hurry back to Zuko’s aid.

His chest rises and falls slowly, and with the use of the water from the fountain as well as from your own tears you rest your hands upon his wound and begin to heal him. Uncomfortable tingles shoot through your palms and bite at your fingertips but you ignore it, holding back the tears and the whimper that crawls through your throat and instead focusing your energy on Zuko. Katara is suddenly at your side, and as she kneels down beside you with anxious anticipation in her eyes Zuko finally begins to wake.

“Oh, Zuko!” You exclaim tearfully, your whole body seeming to sigh in relief as he gives you the tiniest smile he can muster.

“Hello, Princess,” he utters hoarsely while Katara helps you get him back on his feet. His features soften at the sight of your hands as he carefully takes them in his own and assesses the damage. You’ll be lucky if you make it out of this without any nerve damage, and it’s likely that you’re going to carry permanent scars on your skin for the rest of your life. “Your hands...”

“Saving you was more important than healing myself,” you assure him with a faint smile. “Besides, now we’re a matching set.”

Your attempt to make a joke in the midst of such a solemn moment causes Zuko to crack the tiniest of smiles, but it fades at the sight of Azula. Chained to the sewer grate, the Princess thrashes desperately against her restraints in an attempt to free herself. Flames shoot from her mouth and as the reality of her situation finally starts to sink in she begins to cry. Her sobs are heartbreaking and full of agony, and despite your victory there is no celebrating. Azula was the product of manipulation and abuse, and despite all the horrible things she’d done to you and your friends you truly felt sorry for her.

Zuko guides you away from the scene and towards the palace, his arm tenderly wrapped around your waist and his eyes never once leaving your hands.

“Let’s get you bandaged up,” he suggests comfortingly.

“And then what?” You ask quietly only for him to exchange an uneasy glance with Katara. His eyes meet yours then, and though they are comforting they are also filled with the slightest hint of doubt.

“We wait and see if Aang finished the job.”

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal |

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #4: Crown of Thorns

Words: ca. 1,600 Setting: Canon Lemon: Lime CW: Mentioned kristanna and elsamaren, pregnancy, language

AN: For those that aren’t aware, crown of thorns is a species of flowering plant that is associated with Jesus. Unfortunately, the plant can’t survive below 50 °F/10 °C so its inclusion as the title is only metaphorical.

–

  Elsa woke, a heavy ache in her chest. She expected it, even felt it last night as declarations of love tumbled from her lips. Her heart was breaking, and she knew she only had herself to blame. She never should have let this happen, never should have given in to her desires. She was corrupted, plagued with vile thoughts, and twice cursed. Her powers may have been accepted by the people of Arendelle and Northuldra, but the feelings she had- that she had acted upon- would never be. As the ache grew into self hatred, she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Morning,” came the soft voice behind her.

  Elsa’s breath hitched as a hand made its way languidly down her naked back. She closed her eyes, briefly allowing the sensation to overcome her senses until a yawn filled her ears.

  “Anna,” she said without looking at the other occupant in her bed, “We can’t do this anymore.” The pain of saying it aloud nearly crippled her. She wanted to fall back into her lover’s arms, to say she didn’t mean it. Instead she braced herself for the protests she knew would come.

  The bed shifted beneath her as her younger sister sat up. Elsa imagined the sight of Anna’s tangled hair, freckled shoulders, pert breasts, and the small swell of her belly. She opened her eyes and reminded herself of their reality. They could not be. Especially now that Anna was with child.

  “Elsa,” Anna’s voice broke through her thoughts as two arms began to snake around Elsa’s abdomen.

  Elsa immediately stood up and walked to a plush reading chair in the corner of the room. She looked up at her sister. Anna looked pained, but Elsa held strong. She knew she was doing the right thing, even if ending their relationship hurt.

    “Els-”

  “No, Anna,” She said firmly. “We cannot keep doing this. You have a husband. You’re expecting a child-”

  When Anna told Elsa she was pregnant, it came as a shock. She had known, in some distant, nebulous way, that Anna would have to produce an heir at some point. As Arendelle’s former sovereign, Elsa once held that burden, even though she had known she never would for fear of passing down her powers. When she stepped down to remain in Northuldra as the Fifth Spirit, that burden fell to Anna. And everything looked to be going well for a time. Anna and Kristoff were engaged, Elsa was happy in Northuldra, and she was even beginning a relationship with Honeymaren.

  Until a few months before Anna’s wedding. Elsa’s visits home increased during the months leading up to her sister’s nuptials to help with work and planning, and something changed between them. After a confession of loving Elsa more than anyone, including Kristoff, Anna realized that her love was both familial and romantic. And Elsa returned those feelings.

  The night of her wedding, Anna excused herself from the ball in order to drag Elsa out to the chapel, a maniacal grin plastered on her face. When they arrived, Elsa completely confused, Anna produced two bouquets of purple and yellow crocuses.

  “If I can’t properly marry you in daylight, then I’ll marry you in secret at night,” she’d said. The vows that followed promised everlasting love and devotion and were sealed with a kiss.

  Even as Anna was whisked away later to fulfill her marital duty, she promised Elsa that they would be together soon. And they had been. For nearly a year, they carried on their affair in secret. Until Anna’s pregnancy reminded them of her obligation to the kingdom.

  The thought of Anna being with Kristoff made her stomach turn. Elsa hated thinking about them together. No matter how many times Anna assured her that she felt nothing but friendly fondness for Kristoff, Elsa’s knowledge of their intimacy caused jealousy, regret, and pain. Elsa pushed those feelings aside now and turned her attention back to her sister as Anna shook her head.

  “I’m doing that for Arendelle, Elsa. I’m doing it for the kingdom; it’s not what I want.” Her younger sister’s eyes pleaded with Elsa to understand. “I want you.”

  Elsa breathed in deeply before exhaling. “Anna, are you telling me that you do not want your child?”

  “I-” Anna’s face contorted into a pained sadness. “I- I do want my child. But why can’t I have you too?” She moved to the chair and kneeled down in front of her older sister, taking Elsa’s cold hands into hers. “Why can’t I have both?”

  Elsa untangled their hands. “Because it isn’t right, Anna. What we’re doing isn’t right.”

  “Why? Why was it okay before but it isn’t now? Help me understand, Elsa, please.” Anna’s teal eyes shone with unshed tears.

  Elsa glanced down at Anna’s belly. “You belong with Kristoff. He’s the father of your child.”

  Anna shook her head again. “You know I want you. Kristoff is… he’ll be a fantastic father, but you know I don’t love him. My heart doesn’t belong to him. It’s yours.”

  Elsa stood and walked back towards the bed. “No, it doesn’t. It can’t. Anna, we can’t stay together.” Each word was like a dagger, especially after Anna’s profession, but she knew it would be for the best.

  “Why are you doing this, Elsa? Why are you taking our happiness away?” Tears rolled down Anna’s cheeks and she stood behind her sister. Elsa anticipated Anna reaching out and turned to stop it. The sight of her sister crying broke her further, but she remained steadfast.

  “Because it was never our happiness to share,” she said coldly as she willed an ice dress to form around her pale body. “We were never meant to be anything but sisters. You may not understand my reasoning, but I am doing this for you. For your family.”

  Anna grabbed a robe from the floor where it’d been discarded the previous night. “You’re my family, Elsa.”

  “No. Your family is here,” Elsa allowed herself to reach out and briefly touch Anna’s cotton covered abdomen before walking to the balcony doors, opening them. “And here.” She looked out upon Arendelle with a sad smile.

  Anna walked over and stood next to her. “You’re also my family, or are you going to deny our sisterly relation too,” she spat, her emotions turning to anger.

  Elsa turned to her. “I could never deny you, Anna.”

  “Then stay with me.” A brief hope filled Anna’s eyes.

  “I must deny that. It’s for your own good, Anna. One day you’ll understand.” Elsa kissed her sister’s forehead before walking back towards the bedroom door.

  “You’re a damn martyr, Elsa. You know that? You are choosing to be unhappy. You’re choosing wrong. What about our vows to each other?” Anna’s anger simmered. “You promised to love me.”

  “And I will always, Anna; but, love isn’t enough for us,” Elsa said from the door.

  “You’re a damn martyr,” Anna repeated.

  Elsa chortled. “Like Joan.”

  “No,” Anna shook her head. “Joan died for what she believed in. I take it back. You’re not a martyr; you’re a goddamn coward.”

  “That may be true,” Elsa frowned. “But my whole life has been about sacrifice, and this is simply another.”

  “Fuck that, Elsa,” Anna stomped to her. “You don’t have to sacrifice this. I can be yours and you can be mine.”

  Elsa sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, her face looked peaceful. “Be good, Anna. I promise to visit when the baby is born.”

  Anna shook her head again, more fervently than before. “No, I don’t accept this. You can’t leave me. You can’t.”

  Elsa smiled softly. “I love you, Anna.” She began to walk down the hall.

  “Fine!” Anna poked her head out, her face red with rage as she cried. “You coward! Coward! Don’t you dare come back. I hate you.”

  Elsa finally allowed her own tears to fall as she left the castle.

  In the months that followed, Elsa tried to move on. She found herself in Honeymaren’s lavvu often, though she always left unsatisfied. As fond as she was of Honeymaren, she wasn’t Anna. Honeymaren eventually realized this and allowed their relationship to fizzle, though they remained friends.

  After learning of her niece’s birth in a note from Kristoff that Gale delivered, and with encouragement from Honeymaren, Elsa got up the courage to visit her sister. She hoped that she would be forgiven.

  Outside of her sister’s bedroom, Elsa fidgeted. What awaited her? Was she doing the right thing? Anna’s words from their last meeting echoed in her mind. She no longer wanted to be a coward. She inspected the purple and yellow crocuses in her hand to make sure they were perfect. Then she lifted her empty hand and knocked.

  “Come in,” came her sister’s lilting voice.

  Elsa opened the door and stepped in. Her eyes met Anna’s, and there was a silent allowance to stay.

  Anna put her daughter down in her bassinet, and Elsa realized for the first time that they were not alone. “May I?” She gestured to her niece.

  Anna nodded.

  Elsa walked forward and peeked into the bassinet, and a smile spread across her face. “Anna, she’s beautiful,” she whispered, looking back up at her sister.

  “Thank you,” Anna smiled back. “I’m biased, but I think so too. Her name is Merit.”

  “Merit,” Elsa repeated. “I love it, Anna. She’s perfect.”

  Anna was silent as she watched Elsa watch her newborn.

  Elsa straightened. “Anna, I’m sorry. I never should have said what I said to you, and I never should have stopped visiting.”

  Anna’s face was unreadable for a moment, and Elsa wasn’t sure if she said the right thing. Just as she opened her mouth to say more, Anna spoke.

  “Are those for me?”

  “What?”

  “The flowers. Are they for me?” Anna prompted gently.

  Elsa nodded and held them out.

  Anna took them with a smile.

[abluescarfonwaston]

The Eternal Fire

This is turning into quite the day.

He wanted a new jacket. That's the only reason he'd come to Novigrad. He just wanted a new jacket. It was a very nice jacket. It already had a tear in the sleeve.

"Geralt." Dandelion tugged at it. Worsening the tear. He be annoyed if he weren't so relieved at his return from wherever he'd wandered while they waited. "Where do they keep the money?" He asked. His whinny whisper sounding almost as distressed as Geralt felt.

"In the cellars, perhaps?" He didn't shift as he carefully watched the dwarves and young men continue their work of filling parchment with numbers and figures. It appeared very monotonous but they didn't look up from their papers so it must have been engaging. He still carefully positioned Dandelion in front of his sleeve in case they looked up.

"No Geralt! I looked!" That did explain where he had gone. "There's no cellars here!"

He tugged his medallion grateful for Dandelions panic. It helped keep his own calm. The halfling, Dainty, continued to tap his foot impatiently, ignoring them. "The attic then." He explained. Because that was the other place people kept money. Banks had to be the same.

Dandelion nodded and eased slightly. He let the chain of his medallion go. The urge to fiddle with it passing. If Dandelion believed him then he was likely right. Because Dandelion knew cities and was a very smart man.

A banker waved them into his office. Discussing the financial wonders that the doppler Dudu was making with Danity’s face and income. They spoke quickly, excited and confused in rapidly shifting amounts that he could hardly follow. The figures were far more than he could ever dream of having. He wouldn’t know what to do with figures that large. 

They spoke of tax and debts and profits which was all very boring and rather soured him to the whole affair. He and Dandelion did not have 22 crowns for a new jacket or even one for lunch. Dandelion had instead stolen some fritters from a market stall for them to snack on and they’d made do.

Dandelion appeared to be listening so he stopped attempting to follow them. If it became important Dandelion would be willing to explain after. 

He considered instead the glossy cornflower blue of his clothing. The way it framed his shoulders. They weren’t as wide as his despite the fact Dandelion was somewhat taller than him. He rarely stood up straight, of course, so it was hardly noticeable. There was a small stain near his ankles where the jar of cherry preservatives had splashed him as Vespula had attempted to toss her entire apartment at the troubadour. His blond hair slightly frizzled under his plum bonnet with it ergot feather from the pure chaos of this morning.

His cheeks were full enough that he knew he’d eaten well these past few months. But given how his fiance had thrown him from her home and the barkeep had refused to spot the bard a drink he figured Dandelion’s time in this city was about done.

Dandelion had wished on the carp in the fountain for a proper ending to his song. The rhymes wouldn’t come, he said. Travel. That would help the poet. He always claimed to do his best work by the embers of a dying fire.

He wondered if he would join him. The quiet popping and crackling of the fire painting Dandelion orange as he muttered while the fire died. Sleep found him easier those nights.

“A troubadour, a Witcher and a merchant. Congratulations. Master Dandelion shows up here and there, even at royal courts, and no doubt keeps his ears open.” He focused as the banker mentioned them. “ And the Witcher? A bodyguard? Someone to frighten debtors?”

“Hasty conclusions, Mr. Vivaldi,” He said coldly pulling his name from the plate on his desk. “We are not partners.”

“And I,” Dandelion said, flushing, “Do not eavesdrop anywhere. I’m a poet, not a spy!”

“People say all sorts of things.” The dwarf grimaced. “All sorts of things Master Dandelion.”

“Lies!” The troubadour yelled. “Damned Lies!”

“Very well, I believe you, I believe you.” He raised his hands placatingly. “I just don’t know if Chappelle will believe it.”

Chappelle. The head of the church of the Eternal Fire. That had surrounded them with the temple guard and threatened them should they not leave town after paying the taxes Dainty owed. It seemed that matter had been settled. So they weren’t in overt danger.

The weapons the temple guard had used. They’d filled him with rage. He’d nearly drawn his sword as they surrounded them. Dandelion’s whisper in his ear and shaking hand on his shoulder all that stopped him. “Geralt,” He’d whispered, “By all the Gods, keep calm-”

“I won’t let them touch me,” He’d muttered. “I won’t let them touch me, whoever they are. Be careful Dandelion. When it starts, you two flee, as fast as you can. I’ll keep them busy... for some time.”

Dandelion’s hand on his shoulder was all that kept him from lashing out as the temple guard had inched closer. Surrounding them with their spiked whips that were prohibited in most countries Geralt knew. Novigrad included. He’d seen people struck by them. He would never forget those face.

He shifted in front of Dandelion. His wide shoulders helping shield the bard from them.

Dandelion stepped around him. Shifting his lute on his shoulder. Spoke to the man for them. He did not look away from the weapons in the guards hands.

And then Chappelle had asked to speak with him in private. Those few steps from Dandelion and Danity, still surrounded bubbled the rage under his skin. If he touches me, he’d though, I’ll strike him. If he touches my elbow i’ll strike him, whatever happens.

He hadn’t. Asked instead the price for killing a vexling, a doppler. He’d managed enough politeness to make clear he wouldn’t.

Then he’d suggested the fee for such a service might guarantee he and his friends might leave this city. He’d wavered as Dandelion and Danity shifted nervously in the circle. Surrounded by the spiked whips.

They’d left. Dandelion touched his elbow and guided him from the bank. Towards the market where the doppler impersonating Dandy was.

It was always quite the day when Dandelion was involved. The man was trouble. His brand new jacket already had a tear in the sleeve. His long fingers warmed his elbow as they headed to the Western Market.

He shoved his way through the overly crowded market towards the sounds of Dandelion and his Lute. His voice calling out to the beauties passing by from a fabulously colored stall decorated with the sign: ‘Buy your wonders, amulets and fish bait here’.

“Dandelion!” He said, approaching. “I thought we had split up to search for the doppler. And you’re giving concerts. Aren’t you ashamed to sing at markets like an old beggar?”

“Ashamed?” Came the astonished reply. “What matters is what and how one sings and not where. Besides I’m hungry and the stall-holder promised me lunch. Look for the doppler yourselves, I’m not cut out for chases, brawls or mob law. I’m a poet.”

“You’d be better off not attracting attention, Poet. Your fiancée is here. Could be trouble.” He’d spotted her earlier yelling at a pots and pans merchant.

“Fiancée?” He blinked nervously. Casting his gaze over the crowd. “Which one do you mean? I have several.”

Irritation bubbled up as Vespula appeared welding a copper frying pan, answering his question. Dandelion jumped up from the stall and nimbly darted away. She turned to him. Nostrils flaring and he stepped backwards. His back hitting the stall’s wall. 

Dainty knocked her off balance as he leapt through the crowd, directing him to his double. He took off in pursuit, eager to escape Vespula’s screams that promised she’d show them how well she could wield the frying pan.

The back of his jacket was lashed as he knocked over two baskets of herrings. The other sleeve caught on a fence and tore.

He stopped. Swore. Spat. Swore again.

He’d just wanted a new jacket. Already it was ruined. Not even half a day later.

Dainty rushed into a tent after the doppler. The noise of blows, curing and an awful banging came from inside. He swore obscenely. Gnashed his teeth. Raised his hand and used Aard on the tent. 

It billowed up like a sail in the gale and collapsed. The doppler crawled out on his belly out from under it. Dashed towards a smaller tent. He hit him in the back with a sign. He tumbled forward but tucked into a somersault and rushed into the tent. He followed in. Hot on his heels.

Dudu turned to him. The canvas firmly attached to the ground. No escape besides the entrance he blocked.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you again mimic.” He said coldly. One of his sleeves bunching around his wrist.

He was breathing heavily. Hoarsely. “Leave me alone. Why are you tormenting me?”

“You attacked Danity. Stole his horses and identity. Left him in the woods. And you’re still using his face and causing him problems.” He watched him shift and consider making a break for it. He stayed ready. Knees bent in case he acted on the impulse. “I don’t want to kill you or turn you in but you have to leave the city. I’ll see that you do.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“I will carry you out in a sack on a handcart.”

Dainty’s face twisted in displeasure and then he swelled up abruptly. Became thinner. Taller. Curly chestnut hair growing white, long and straight down to his shoulders. His green waistcoat shone like oil becoming black leather with silver studs. His face elongated and paled. His swords elongating over his shoulders.

“Don’t come closer. I won’t let you touch me. I’ll kill you if you touch me.” He smiled and his gut twisted.

Was that really how horrible his smile looked? It must be. He thought as he reached for his blade. How hideous I look when I squint. That’s what I look like? Damn.

It was a wonder they didn’t charge him more at brothels.

Their fingers both touched the blades at the same time. Sprung from their sheaths in one identical motion. Two simultaneous quick steps. Forward. To the right.

Their swords swung and connected in perfect symmetry.

They froze. Stopped dead.

“You can’t beat me,” he snarled. “Because I am you.”

“You’re wrong, drop the blade and take Dainty’s form again. Else you’ll regret it.”

“I am you.” He repeated but his hand eased off the blade.

“You have no idea what it means to be me, mimic.” He remained focused on his hands. “Because you are a good natured doppler. You could have killed Dainty and buried him. Taken his life in total safety. But you didn’t because you are at your core a good natured doppler whose close friends call him Dudu. You only know how to copy the good in us.”

His hands dropped from the blade and he stepped backwards. Colliding with the tent’s canvas.

“So turn back into Dainty. Let me tie your hands. You can’t defy me because you can’t copy this in me.” The willingness to kill. “You know that. Because for a moment you were me.”

The slight hunch to his shoulders disappeared as he suddenly straightened with a hideous smile. “You’re right Geralt.” His features warped and his hair shortened. Darkening a tone to blonde. His lips changed shape as he spoke making the words indistinct. “I was only you for a moment but it was enough. Do you know what I’m going to do now?”

The oil black of his leather turned into glossy cornflower blue. He smiled, straightening his plum bonnet with its ergot feather. Adjusted the strap of his lute that had just moments before been a sword.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.” He said, with the rippling laughter characteristic of Dandelion. “I’m going to walk out of here and you are going to let me. You won’t fight me. Because then you’d have to kill me. And you can’t.”

The doppler stepped forward. He stared not at his hands but his face as they looked at him. He stood straight, in the way Dandelion only ever did when he was trying to impress. To catch someone’s eye.

“I’ll go and quietly transform into any old body. Because that’s better than starving in the wilds. I’ll blend in amongst these people an one will raise a fuss because what is one more person amongst the thirty thousand that already live here?”

Dandelion’s eyes stared down the tiny distance that separated them in height. His hip cocked with his easy smile. He stood right in front of him. His sword, still in hand, hung limply at his side.

“After all. They let the dwarves, gnomes, halflings, and even elves,” his mouth twisting into the insolent smile of Dandelion’s, “the modest possibility of assimilation. So why not me? Why am I any different from the half elves they let wander here? I can look just the same as them. I can do just the same as them. I deserve a chance to live among them.”

He said nothing as one of the Dopplers string calloused hands pressed against his chest. “Yes. As I said. I am going. And you are going to let me. Because for one moment I was you. Because I knew your thoughts Geralt. Including the ones you won’t admit to.” He leaned in and he could smell the fritter on his breath. “The one’s you hide from even yourself.”

He did not move. His heart hammered in his chest under the fingers of Dandelion. The doppler leaned over towards his ear and he watched his lips form words.

“Because to stop me you’d have to kill me. And the thought of killing me in cold blood fills you with disgust. Doesn’t it?”

He leaned back. Adjusting the strap of his lute. Turned away and walked confidently towards the exit.

He moved confidently but his hands shook and back hunched just slightly. Anticipating the whistle of a blade. His jaw trembled just so slightly over the jackrabbit beating of his heart.

Even in fear he mimicked Dandelion perfectly.

He turned to him mid-step at the exit when no blade came. “Thank you Geralt. Farewell.”

“Farewell Dudu.” He replied. “Good luck.”

The doppler turned away and headed into the crowded bazaar with Dandelion’s sprightly, cheerful, swinging gait. He swung his left arm vigorously and he grinned at the women as he passed them.

He set off slowly after him. Slowly.

He seized his lute in full stride and played two chords. Then played a tune he knew. He sang the song Dandelion had been troubling with all day.

His voice exactly like Dandelions. He sang. But the rhymes came to him.

He smiled brightly back at him when he was done. “Pass that on to Dandelion if you remember.” He called back to him through the crowd. “And tell him that Winter is a lousy title. The ballad should be called The Eternal Fire. Farewell Witcher!”

He started to nod when Vespula, launcher of missiles and angry ex-fiancé of Dandelion’s, shouted out “Hey! You, pheasant!”

The doppler turned around in astonishment. He removed his bonnet and bowed with his broad and easy smile. “Vespula my dear! How glad I am to see you.” He shoved and elbowed his way through the crowd desperately towards the poor fool. “Forgive me my sweet. I owe you-“

“Oh you do, you do.” She interrupted. “And what you owe me you’re going to pay!”

The copper frying pan flashed in the sun as it clanged deep and loud against his head. He staggered. An indescribably stupid expression frozen on his face as his arms spread out and he began to melt into nothing human.

He leapt in full flight swiping a blanket from a stall. Wrapping the doppler in it and sat atop the bundle.

Vespula gripped her frying pan. Her fury mixing with confusion.

“He’s sick.” He smiled affectedly. “Don’t crowd. He needs air.”

“Did you hear?” Chappelle asked calmly but resonantly. Pushing his way through the crowd. “Do not form a public gathering here! Please disperse! Public gatherings are forbidden, punishable by a fine!”

In the blink of an eye the crowd dispersed. Dandelion approached them against the movement of the crowd. Vespula cried out when she saw him and with a palid glance at the blanket, ran.

“What happened? Did she see the devil?” The bundle under him began to move weakly. Chappelle slowly approached. His personal guard nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t come closer.” He said quietly. “If I were you I’d turn around and pretend I never saw anything.”

“You, no doubt.” Chappelle said coldly. “But you are not me.”

Dainty ran up behind them but upon seeing Chappelle he stopped. Began to whistle, held his hands behind his back and pretended to admire the roof of the granary.

Chappelle stood by Geralt, very close. He narrowed his eyes. Chappelle leaned over the bundle.

“Dudu” he said to Dandelion’s strangely deformed cordovan boots still sticking out the blanket. “Copy Dainty, quickly now.”

Dainty objected but Dudu, only my friends call me Dudu, began to compress under the blanket and after a few moments he scrambled out.

Dandelion watched the proceedings from perched atop a trunk. Strumming his lute with an expression of moderate interest on his face. From the corner of his eye he could find no fault in the doppler’s impression of him.

“Now who is this?” Chappelle asked Dainty pointedly.

“My cousin. Dudu Biberveldt of Knotgrass Meadow. An astute businessman that. I’ve decided to appoint as my factor in Novigrad.”

“Oh thank you cousin.” His close relative and pride of their clan smiled broadly. Chappelle also smiled.

“What happened to the real Chappelle?” He asked him.

“Died of apoplexy two months back. May the earth lie lightly on him, and may the Eternal Fire light his way. No one noticed. Geralt you aren’t going to-“

“What didn’t anyone notice?” He asked with an inscrutable expression. Dandelion smiled ruefully from his perch.

“Thank you.” Chappelle muttered.

A Gnome arrived, bringing with him another matter of mercantile business.

“Geralt.” Dandelion groaned. “He’s earned more in three days than I’ve earned in my whole life singing!”

“Maybe you should take up commerce then. Perhaps if you ask he’ll take you as an apprentice.”

Dandelion gave a rueful smirk as he strummed his lute with a shake of his head.

“Witcher.” Dudu tugged at his ruined sleeve. “Tell me how I could repay you?”

“Twenty-two crowns.”

“What?”

“For a new Jacket. Look what’s left of mine.”

“Do you know what?” Dandelion suddenly yelled, jumping from his perch. “Let’s all go to the house of ill repute! To Passiflora! The Biberveldts are paying!”

“Do they admit halflings?” Dainty asked with concern.

“Just let them try not to.” Chappelle put on a menacing expression. “Let them try and I’ll accuse their entire bordello of heresy.”

“Right.” Dandelion called, already leading the way. “Very satisfactory. Geralt?” He turned his eyes to him. His face warm and open. Framed by his blond curls. “Are you coming?”

He laughed softly.

“Do you know what Dandelion?” He said. “I’ll come with pleasure.”

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Sixteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 8.8k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“You’re still sure you want to do this?” Finnick asks, you give him a look.

“If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. Feel free to join Katniss’ star squad.” you snort at the name of it, “Boggs already made us the offer and said we can change our minds at any time up until we leave.”

“I remember.” Finnick says, he grips his shiny, new trident in his hand tightly, before deciding that he might as well strap it to his body so he’s not carrying it around everywhere, “I just thought you might want to back out is all.”

You roll your eyes, “The day I back out of anything, is the day I’m a coward.”

“I’m Commander Paylor of District Eight.” Paylor begins, Finnick’s head immediately snaps up to see her, you practically already have Paylor’s speech memorized, “I’m a soldier like all of you so, here’s what I know. For the first time in our lifetimes, we’re standing together with thirteen districts. From what I see here, we’ve already made history.”

The clapping starts first, the cheering is a second behind. There’s a shitload of people here. No only in the streets, but on the rooftops too. Volunteers from every district have been flown in, leading up to this moment. What you did yesterday, really opened up a ton of opportunities.

“But history doesn’t stop to celebrate, and we’re facing an enemy that will not change and will never surrender. President Snow has pulled back peacekeepers to fortify the center of the city. He’s evacuating residents from outer blocks, these civilians will be confused and desperate. You are under orders not to target them.”

Paylor motions to the crowd, “We’re deploying medical brigades to help anyone in need. We’ll show the Capitol people who we are.” she motions to the live screen behind her of a map, “To slow our advance, President Snow is building a minefield of traps and lethal devices called ‘pods’. The sadistic inventions of gamemakers meant to make sport of our deaths.

“If our armies make it past peacekeepers and other defenses, we’ll converge in the center of the city at Snow’s mansion, where we won’t just unlock his gates, but unshackle all of Panem.” The crowd cheers again, “If we die, let it be for a cause and not a spectacle. If we succeed, let it be for all of panem, and let it be forever.

“Yes, you’ve already made history. But the future--our future--starts tomorrow at dawn, when we march together into the Capitol.”

The cheering resumes, and you give a quick glance to Katniss and Gale, curious to see how they’re taking all of this. Gale came into District Two a little after you had left--he was on a hovercraft full of volunteers--and Katniss came over this morning as a stowaway on another volunteer hovercraft.

She’s been insisting to help this entire time, not wanting to sit back. However, she’s going to be in for a nasty surprise when she realizes that she’s the top priority. Her squad is going to do anything to keep her safe--which is exactly why you’ve decided not to join the star squad. 

You’ve already had the misfortune of being in on protecting her once, and that was enough for you. You might not have known every single detail, but the intentions were pretty clear. You’re just surprised that it took so long for Katniss to realize that she was the priority.

Also, the problem with the star squad is that they’re not front lines. Katniss can’t be killed, otherwise the revolution dies or whatever. So, Boggs told you that they’re going to give the volunteers a head start, and then they’ll follow behind. No matter what happens, the squad will still have to be careful of pods and whatnot, but most of them will be taken out by the volunteers by the time the squad leaves the base.

In other words--they’re not going to get any action. Katniss is still going to be filmed, but it’s practically useless in your mind. Her setting off pods or standing patriotically in front of things isn’t going to do much. She’s not leading anyone, she’s following behind people.

Which is a whole other reason why you’re up front: you’re not a follower, you’re a leader.

As Paylor gets back to her speech, giving more information, you grab a hold of Finnick’s arm, and start to pull him out of the crowd. Trying to navigate through is hard at first, until the volunteers see the look on your face, or recognize who you are. After that, a path just wide enough for you and Finnick to fit through, forms.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here, we were already briefed.” you say, and the second you’re out of the crowd, you let Finnick go.

Bouncing on your toes, you twirl around a bit, “Tomorrow, huh? Too bad it can’t be today.”

“We’ll probably be introduced to our squad at least.” Finnick says, “You know where to go?”

“What kind of moronic question is that?” you ask, heading to the building that Lyme said would be the meet up spot for you guys, “Of course I know.”

Lyme and Boggs had approached both you and Finnick. Either you could join Katniss’ star squad, protect her, befriend her, trust her--whatever. You guys would have a chance of being on television, and maybe even share some glory of ‘being brave and marching to the Capitol’. In your opinion, it looks like Coin just wants to put two of her best faces together to make you look like a team.

Especially after what you said to the people inside of the tunnel, you basically discredited Katniss in the worst way possible. By saying that she can’t relate to them, because she doesn’t get it. You said what you said, you weren’t lying to their faces. If Coin wants to think that, then she can because she’s psychotic anyway.

Anyway, Lyme said that you could go to the front lines. Like you said, Coin doesn’t control you, because you aren’t the one leading the masses--Katniss is. If you want to go ahead and clear out streets for the medical brigades, then you can go nuts with it. You’ll get your own personalized squad that Lyme thinks will get along with you, and then you’re free to go tomorrow.

You’ll have your own pod-tracker, a map to follow, food and water, weapons, etc. But this just means that you’re going to be in danger with every step you take. The pod-tracker, which is actually called the Holo, will be as updated as can be, tomorrow. However, if any new pods appear, you won’t really know until it’s too late.

You received all of this news pretty well. You’re used to being in places you’re not welcome at. You’re pretty agile, you can fight well, you’re not too bad when it comes to leading a group. And if you get killed on the way, what a noble way to go out.

As for Finnick, you could just tell that this isn’t what he thought it was going to be. You don’t know what he expected exactly, but it wasn’t a whole ton of danger all wrapped up in one big city. Seeing the Capitol as dangerous is a comedy. To you two, it’s been sparkle and shimmer for as long as you can remember.

Combining the pretty idea of it, and the idea that the gamemakers have not held back with what will go on with traps--isn’t a fun thought. Especially not for you, since you’re the one who’s seen it as glamour the entire time. Finnick… you’re not too sure. He definitely doesn’t have good memories either, but he also got his shitload of secrets from there, so you’re not entirely sure.

You know that he’s pro-rebellion though. That’s obvious by now.

Back to what you were saying, Boggs and Lyme both offered sides to it. Follow Katniss around and not be in direct danger all the time, or have your own squad and be face-to-face with danger. She liked to describe it as ‘death breathing down your neck’.

You already promised a lot of people that you wouldn’t be taking the cowards way out. And like you’ve said already; you don’t want to be in the star squad. 

While the entire interaction was happening, it was obvious that Finnick was hoping you would change your mind. Like everything that you’ve done up until now has been one entire joke. 

He’ll realize just how real it’ll all be as soon as tomorrow comes. When the deal with Boggs no longer stands and you have to go with Lyme no matter what.

Actually, you wouldn’t have to go with her. You would be able to just stay in District Two, while all the volunteers do your dirty work. 

“Remember any of the names that she told us?” You ask Finnick, looking at him.

He’s got his thumbs looped into the straps of the bulletproof vest he’s wearing. He thinks for a moment, and then makes a face, “Not really.”

You shrug, “Not a problem, I’ve got a way around seeming rude.”

Finnick laughs, “You care about that?”

“They’re going to be the ones saving our necks, so yeah.” You say, cracking your knuckles, “They’re not a bunch of victors that I can mouth off to. They’re regular people, they won’t understand and will end up taking it personally.”

“Critical thinking.” Finnick mocks.

If you didn’t have all this armor on, you’d spin around and kick his ass. Even then, he might be able to win. When you two were putting the outfits on, he looked like none of the weight fazed him. As for you, your knees nearly buckled.

On top of the armor are the backpacks, and then your fancy weapons, and a hundred other things inside of the backpacks. It makes it all so heavy, and your shoulders had begun to ache after a while.

The only reason why you’re still wearing it—because in no way was it required to be worn—is because you want to get used to the feeling of it all. It’s why you continue to move around quickly, bounce on your toes, spin in circles and all of that. You’re trying to fix your balance.

If Finnick had tried to push you over when you first put all this weight on, you would have stumbled and fell. Now, you’ve begun to get a hang of it all, it’s not nearly as bad as you thought it was.

You two make it to the abandoned building. The upper floor is caved in, the windows are gone and if the ground shakes, concrete debris will come through the cracks. Definitely not a safe place to be at, but the entire district is fucked up like this. It’s not really a huge surprise.

The inside of the building is relatively empty, except for some furniture. Finnick waits by the door while you head inside, stealing two chairs--one in each arm--as you leave the house. If the place collapses, you’d rather be on the outside, not the entire.

Finnick takes his chair from you, and the two of you set up camp outside. You have to shed the backpack before you sit. Then, you unbuckle the bulletproof vest and drop it onto the dirt next to you, leaning back in the chair.

“Have you ever actually gone to war before?” Finnick asks.

“There’s always a first time for everything.” you give him a pretty smile, “Don’t be so negative about it, you’re going to imagine bad things and then get us killed.”

Finnick pauses for a moment, letting what you said sit, and then he moves on, “Are you doing okay?”

You watch his face, looking for mockery. It takes a moment of you squinting and watching the corner of his lips for you to decide. He’s being sincere about it, he actually cares.

You relax, “I’m still mourning, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Finnick is just as relieved as you are, “Are you throwing yourself into this because of her?”

“I’m doing this because I promised those people that I would.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t owe them anything--” Finnick tries.

You squint at him again, but this time it’s a very clear glare. Finnick shifts uncomfortably in his chair, and you resist to kick out the weakest leg that’s barely holding his weight.

“They are my people.” you lean forward, “I might not know their names, but they’re District Two. They are the people that I grew up with. They look up to us, they depend on us victors. Of course I owe them, and you do too.”

Finnick doesn’t bother with saying anything else, and it’s probably for the best. It’s only a few minutes later when you see people approaching. After that, you sit up in your chair, uncrossing your legs as you lean on your knees with your elbows.

“You must be (Y/n) and Finnick.” a girl with blonde, curled hair says, “I’m Hydri.” 

You get to your feet, holding out your hand, “Nice to meet you.

“This is Taurus,” she motions to a tall man with black hair. There’s tattoos snaking up his neck, and they’re peeking out from beneath his sleeves, “And Alioth.”

Alioth is around average height. He gives a small smile and raises his hand as a greeting. His hair is blonde too, and it’s a style that was most definitely taken out of the Capitol’s stylists books. The sides are shaved but they have intricate designs in them.

“Let me guess, you two are from District Two?” you ask, shaking Taurus’ hand, and then Alioths.

“Not me.” Hydri smiles kindly, “Taurus is from District One, though. He was nearly in the games once.”

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t, you would have wiped the floor with my body.” Taurus says, his voice is pretty deep. 

“No shit.” you laugh, “I always heard about the runner-up from District One, but I never got to see who you were.”

Taurus cracks a smile.

Finnick moves around you to greet them just the same as you did. Then, the conversation shifts to what you’re all really here for--what happens tomorrow.

The entire thing is very friendly, you all go over what you’ll be having inside the backpacks, and the difference between them. Just so that if one of you get hurt or killed, the others will know if the backpack is worth taking or not. While you’re talking, you learn that Alioth will be carrying mostly medical stuff. He’s got food and ammo for himself, but when he opens his backpack and shows it to you guys, you can see exactly what he means.

To have him get killed would be bad. You all have basic medical training, from the games or otherwise. But Alioth’s been studying it for years now since he got out of high school. He originally wanted to sign up for the medical brigade that will be sent out of District Two, but Paylor thought it would be better for him to come with you guys.

Taurus has got the basic prep-games training that you guys get in the academies, so he’ll be a pretty good fighter. Another person you guys wouldn’t want to lose, and yet he tells you all that he doesn’t care if you lean on him. It’s what he’s here for.

As for Hydri, she’s purely for organization. She’s been studying the maps for the last few days, so she’ll be able to keep you from getting lost and from getting off-track. You’ll be able to meet up around Snow’s mansion in the center city. They’ve already marked a building that’s not really used, so it’s the perfect place to go.

After a while, the conversation starts to get a bit dull, and it’s also around the same time that the sun has set. So, you tell them all that you and Finnick are going to grab dinner and head to where you’re staying for the night. Tomorrow, you five will be meeting up in a separate designated spot to receive the Holo, and then hop on a truck to be brought to the city.

Then, you’ll be fighting for your life. Again.

--

You turn the Holo over in your hand, looking at it carefully.

“Don’t break it, we could barely even spare you this one.” the lady tells you.

You look at her, raising your head to be level with her face. Finnick--sensing a showdown--steps in, “Thank you.”

He tries to drag you away, but you keep your stance for a moment, “Lyme personally requested it for me, so you aren’t sparing jack shit. Go fuck yourself.” without missing a beat, you take the Holo from her fingers, mock a smile and say, “I mean, have a nice day.”

You and Finnick leave the table after that, heading over to your group. They’re pulling on the last of their outfits, readjusting straps and buckling up. Taurus is messing around with Alioth slightly while Hydri watches.

They act like they’ve known each other forever, despite the fact that you’re all from varying districts. Taurus is from one, while you and Alioth are from two. Finnick is from four, and Hydri is from District Six. So far, you seem to like them. But they’re obviously a little apprehensive when it comes to you.

You don’t take it personally anymore.

“Got the Holo?” Hydri asks.

You lift it up for her to see, “We’re all good to go.”

“It’s already set up?” Taurus asks.

“Bitch at the booth taught me.”

Taurus snorts, “Let’s go then.”

Hydri leads the way, with Alioth right by her. Taurus hands back with you and Finnick during the walk. For them, it’s not quiet, but for you, it is.

At first, you’re looking at the groups of people getting ready to go to the trucks. And then your eyes wander a little further to where the tents are on the base. From where you are right now, you have a perfect line of sight to where Boggs is standing, talking to some woman, around them stands a few other people.

“How many people do you think have going with Katniss?” you ask.

“Remember when I ran off this morning?” Finnick asks, you nod but don’t look at him, “Went to talk to Boggs. Katniss has got her camera crew from District Thirteen with her, Gale, and the other five.”

“Huh.” you shift your gaze to the trucks, watching some of them take off. Then, it clicks in your head. Five, Katniss, Gale, and the four from the camera crew, “eleven people?”

“Yup. That’ll be a nightmare.” Finnick mutters, “Katniss is probably planning her escape at this exact moment.”

“And it would have been thirteen if we went with them.” you whistle, “There’s no safety in numbers. They’re all going to end up dead.”

Taurus turns his head a little in your direction, you can see the scowl on his face. Yet, he doesn’t ask any questions and just lets what you said slide. He doesn’t look like the confrontational type, but when he does, it’s when he’s pushed the edge. He just has that air about him.

“You really think that?” Finnick asks.

You look at him, “Thirteen people, all with different ambitions and minds of their own. All it would take is for one person to mess up, and the rest are dead. Especially since we’re walking into a minefield.”

Shaking your head, you turn the Holo in your hand, “Katniss will be lucky if she makes it past the first round of pods.”

“You hate her that much, huh?” Taurus finally pitches in, but he doesn’t look at you.

“I don’t hate her, and I don’t loathe her either. She should’ve stayed in District Thirteen, but it’s too late for that now.” you glance behind you to where Boggs is, one final time before they’re finally out of sight.

Boggs seems to be staring at you too, and when he realizes you’re looking back, he raises his hand. You stutter to do the same--mostly because you’re surprised at the action--but you do it, nonetheless. After, a building blocks the view, and you’re forced to go back to focusing on the trucks.

Hydri leads you right to an armoured truck. She knocks on the door once or twice, and then steps back as she waits for them to swing open. It takes a moment, but they do. On the inside, there’s already a couple of people sitting inside on the right. The guy who answered, takes a seat to the right again.

Hydri moves aside, a bright smile on her face as she motions for you guys to go inside. Alioth doesn’t hesitate, with one hand grabbing the bar to the left, and him taking one big step to get himself up. Then, he moves right on back. When Taurus gets up there, he doesn’t struggle with the step as much as Alioth had.

Finnick goes in before you, but he doesn’t sit down right away, instead offering his hand. You grab the bar with your left hand, and his hand with your right. Working together, he pulls you into the truck with no problem. Then, he offers the same courtesy to Hydri, but makes sure she doesn’t get the seat right next to you.

“Thanks.” you mutter, closing your eyes as you lean your head back.

“Anytime.”

Alioth must’ve leaned forward to talk to the driver through the window or something, because the truck gets moving after that. The ride is relatively bumpy at the start, since the trucks had been parked in gravel, but it smoothes out once you’re on the cement.

“Are we getting dropped off in the same spot?” Hydri asks.

“No, we’re earlier than you guys are. Trying to spread out and all.”

“That’s what I thought. At least Paylor knows what she’s doing.” Hydri sighs.

“Did you hear about Lyme?” Taurus asks.

“She’s fine.” Hydri says, “(Y/n) saw her this morning, it was just a scratch. Lyme will be back on her feet, and she might even join us in the center circle.”

“If we make it that far.”

Taurus sighs too, and the conversation between the two groups ends right there.

A while later, there’s some rustling around, making you open your eyes to see what’s going on exactly. The group across from you is getting their backpacks and weapons ready.

They’re talking amongst themselves, mostly about where the nearest pod is going to be the moment they stop off. It’s too bad that they won’t be able to locate where exactly, all they know is that it exists somewhere.

The truck comes to a slow stop, Hydri helps the other girl open the door, and she holds it open so it’s easier for the second group to leave. The other girl says a thank you, and then the doors are shut again.

Taurus and Hydri move to the other bench to make it more comfortable between you five. And Hydri just opens her mouth to say something, when there’s an explosion. For a moment, you think it’s okay, until the truck teeters, and then tips. Unfortunately, it’s in yours, Finnick’s and Alioth’s direction.

There’s not much you can do.

Butterflies swarm in your stomach. A scream rises to your throat. You reach out to grab something--anything.

Your fingers just barely latch onto the edge of the bench, but you hang onto it.

Your back slams against the truck painfully, but your head is cushioned. While you’re staring at what used to be the wall, which is now the ceiling, something slams into the metal next to you.

You look over to your right, trying to see who it is. Finnick is in your way though, and he’s already getting to his elbows, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” you tell him, sitting up and scooting back. Finnick had cushioned your head with his arm--you’re not sure if that was on purpose or if he was flailing just like you were.

Hydri is on her hands and knees next to Finnick, it just means she went flying towards you guys. At least she’s breathing and awake. Taurus is in the dip of the floor, sitting because he can’t stand. And with a look to Alioth, he gives a thumbs up to you.

“Get the doors open.” you tell Taurus, unbuckling the backpack from your body, and then you lean down and grab the Holo.

You turn it on, squinting at it through blurry vision. You blink a couple of times, watching as the device comes to life, and the orange dots take over the blue landscape. The nearest pod is about a hundred feet away--so they couldn’t have set off that one.

The doors slam open, and Taurus reaches for your backpack. He carefully drops it on the outside, eyes glued to the flames that are engulfing a building.

“New pod.” You say, “They ran into one of the new ones.”

You get up with the help of Taurus, not waiting for anyone else. After you slide out, you land on your feet harshly. Another look to the Holo shows an orange dot where the fire is.

“Figures.” you say, picking up the backpack and slinging it over your shoulder.

“(Y/n)--stop!” Finnick’s voice is hard, “What if there’s another?”

You turn around for a moment, “Did you not see what just happened? What if--”

There’s a blast of heat, and then the sound follows. You make a face, but don’t cover your ears as you look to where you were heading. 

A second pod has been set off, and one of the people that were inside of the truck, now struggles to put the fire out. They flail, dancing around like they don’t know what they’re doing. Then, they shed the backpack, and the jacket--which are both charcoal black now--until they eventually sink to their knees, since the flamethrower is still targeting them, following their every move.

You open your mouth as if words will form, but all you feel is your hot breath on your lips as you breathe out.

“Are there any survivors?” Alioth asks, rocks crunching beneath his feet.

“They’re all dead.” Taurus says, “We should check on the drivers--”

“Alive!” Hydri calls, which makes you all turn, “But the driver’s got a head wound from the airbag.

Alioth doesn’t care, he goes ahead and checks them out anyway. You go from staring at the fire to looking at the path you took to get here. It would be a long walk back, and even then there’s no guarantee that Boggs will take you back. Or if you’ll make it in time.

“What are you thinking?” Finnick asks.

You reach up with your right hand, grabbing the left backpack strap as you tilt your head for a moment, “That we better be careful where we step from now on.”

--

Those two explosions that the second group had set off, might have been the first to happen, but they weren’t the last. It was just the beginning of the chain, that probably won’t end until the last volunteer travels through the Capitol.

The gamemakers were smart with their placement--you just have to admit it. They chose the very outskirts of the city, knowing full well that there would be a ton of volunteers that wouldn’t suspect a goddamn thing. You all were expecting the pods to be further into the city, not lining the outering of it.

It’s clear why they did it though, when those first pods went off, it was an indicator that you guys were now coming into the city. It was a way for all those peacekeepers to gear up and find a place to hide until a group of volunteers came through the streets. It would also let Snow know that he should probably be pulling back his citizens a little more forcefully, now.

And not only all of that, but the fact that they’d also know that you were all going in from different directions. Different starting points to offer different advantages. Of course, it also has its disadvantages. You’re having to set off the first pods, rather than walking through a street that’s completely clear already.

The gamemakers don’t care enough to set up the pods again, they’ve got worse things to worry about. Like predicting when you’ll all make it there, and trying to spot the places you hide during the night. For them, it’s going to be a fun game of paranoia that won’t stop until you’re right in their face.

They won’t have a clue either. Not after what Paylor said earlier, with different ways to hide yourself in a crowd. You might not be allowed to antagonize the Capitol citizens, but you’re definitely allowed to raid their wardrobes. Especially the ones that have houses that are already trashed.

If you dress like the citizens, do some crazy fucking makeup to alter your face, and figure out the accent and walk, you’re practically golden. There’s no way that they’ll really be able to tell it's you. If they end up asking for ID, all you have to do is make up some lame excuse about leaving the house in a hurry.

More or less, problem solved.

Until then, you’re all traveling through the streets, just trying not to get caught in the middle of a trap.

“Pod?” Taurus asks, looking back at you.

You hold the Holo up, staring down at the blue for a moment. The next orange dot seems to be miles away, “Not from what I can tell. Just go carefully.”

Taurus goes first, making you guys wait a couple of seconds before following him. In case there is a trap, there will be a few feet between you guys and him, allowing time for escape. It was his idea, it’s not like any of you forced it on him.

“Take a right.” Hydri says, “These alleys are confusing, but it’s our better shot. The main streets are a minefield, aren’t they (Y/n)?”

You shake your head, holding up the Holo for her to see, “Not really, the nearest one might be on the street but--”

“Stop!” Finnick yells to Taurus.

Finnick pushes his way up to you and Hydri, basically pressed against your back as he leans forward to point out the pods, “Right there, see? It’s so faint that we can’t see it.”

“The faint ones are supposed to be the ones that have already been triggered.” you tell Finnick, “It’s what that lady told me.”

“But we’re the first ones through here.” Alioth says, “That can’t be possible.”

While you all stand and stare, thinking up a million possibilities as to why this is happening, your eyes are searching the alleyway for a trigger. If Finnick is right about it being a pod, it’s here, in this little maze of backstreets. You all could be beneath it, on top of it, around the corner from it…

The brick wall of the alley is relatively clean, no one has been through here in awhile. The trash cans that are tucked away have genuinely begun to collect dust. If you were to swipe your finger on top of one of the lids, then you’ll get a thick layer of it on your finger.

This part of the city has long since been deserted. Not only because it was the first to be evacuated, but even worse than that. The gamemakers must have made them leave weeks before the day they thought you’d all be coming through here.

So, there’s definitely something in here.

“How close is the nearest one?” Taurus asks, he hasn’t moved from where he stopped, and that’s probably a good thing.

You move Finnick out of the way with one hand as you look behind you guys, eyes squinted as you search the walls for anything out of place. It has to be subtle, because that’s the way the gamemakers have it in the Holo. They must have figured out a way to hack into them or something.

“What is it?” Finnick asks.

You shush him, eyes sweeping the wall behind him. Brick after brick until--

“Cameras.” You say, pointing at it, “That means peacekeepers, guys.” you turn back to Hydri, “Give me the nearest building that should be safe to hide in.”

“Uh--” Hydri shakes her head for a moment, flipping open the map. She’s obviously trying not to freak out as she runs a finger over the alleyway and into the street, “--yeah, okay. I’ll lead.”

She zips past you, Finnick and Alioth and heads straight for Taurus, showing him the way. The two of them don’t hesitate with walking, which means that you guys shouldn’t either. However, you can’t help but reach into a spare pocket, holding out a throwing knife that Beetee had made for you.

“Fuckers.” you throw.

It lands straight into the glass lens. It won’t be able to watch you now, but that means nothing. The peacekeepers know you guys are here, and that’s all that matters. 

Finnick turns to check where you are, but you’ve already caught up to him and Alioth.

“Quick thinking.” Finnick says.

“I could say the same about you.” 

Hydri brings you guys around a series of corners. It reminds you of the streets of District Two for a moment by how confusing it is the first time you go through. But then you realize there’s a whole pattern to it. That doesn’t mean you had expected where Hydri would bring you guys.

A metal door. Taurus automatically thinks it’s locked, so he goes to kick it in, but Hydri shakes her head and presses a finger to her lips, “Listen.” she whispers.

The five of you all take a moment to try and listen, watching as Hydri pulls out a lockpick, sticking it straight into the lock and beginning to work her magic. It takes a moment of listening to hear it, but then the sound gets considerably louder.

It’s a truck. It’s a truck full of peacekeepers, and they’re not actually coming on foot. There’s going to be a lot more of them than you originally anticipated.

The others must be thinking the same as you because Taurus’ face drops, Finnick pales a little and Alioth opens his mouth to speak, yet nothing comes out. It takes another second before Hydri has popped the door open, and she heads in first, crouched down.

Taurus waits at the door, Finnick shoves you in next, and you go in crouched. Alioth follows, then Finnick, then Taurus--who shuts the door quietly and then locks it again. Hydri is still crouched by the door, waiting for you and Taurus to go up first to evaluate.

None of you actually know what the hell this building is, and by the sound of marching, you’re not going to have much time to figure it out. You and Taurus stop by the same place beneath the counter, and you place your knee against the ground as you squeeze your eyes shut.

This is bad. This is so bad.

You’ve encountered plenty of pods, but those have been relatively easy to bypass. They’re not as dangerous as a squad of peacekeepers are. You set off a pod, the pod is completely done. But peacekeepers? You have to kill each one individually or squeeze your way out.

Escaping them is going to be damn near impossible with five people, especially with a truck full of peacekeepers and god knows if there’s cameras inside of here too.

“Hey,” Finnick says, coming over, “Breathe, it’s going to be fine.”

Right after, there’s a slam on the door behind you guys, and the voices of peacekeepers just outside the building. You look over at Finnick, “Does this look fine to you?”

“I don’t know the layout of the houses, only the streets.” Hydri whispers.

You take a deep breath and another moment of complete silence, before you begin to waddle your way around Taurus. When he goes to stop you, you forcefully push him back, and look at the others.

“Wait.”

You go all the way around the counters, peeking your head around the corner to see the peacekeepers and the actual layout of the building you’re inside. It takes a moment for you to see, and then realize that you’re inside a whole apartment building. There’s a staircase nearby, you guys can go up that as far as it goes…

“Hydri, are there fire escapes?” you ask, looking back.

She nods quickly, and so you motion for them to follow. The pounding on the back door has not only gotten louder, but they’ve begun to cave the metal in from the force they’re using. As for out front--you have no clue what’s going on there.

You lead them all to the staircase, Taurus insists on taking up the back since he can’t have the front. You go up one floor, and then a second, then a third, and then a fourth. The entire way, you’re jiggling door knobs, trying to find one that’s unlocked. If you can run up the fire escape, that would be much easier.

On the fifth floor, you find one single door unlocked, and without a care as to why, you rush everyone inside. It’s only when you go to see for yourself, you freeze where you stand.

“We’re not here to hurt you.” Finnick starts first.

The Capitol citizens are sitting on their couch, enjoying their tea. The woman just barely has the cup in her hold, and her hand is shaking.

“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, do you recognize the name?” 

“Yes.” The man says, standing from where he sits, “What are you doing in my house--”

You ignore him, “You shouldn’t be here. You should have gone with everyone else when you evacuated, because the entire city is full of traps.”

As you make your way around the windows, you find the one with a fire escape. It’s above the alleyway, but it’ll have to work. The door you came in downstairs just blew. You pop it open, letting Hydri and Alioth go out first.

“We mean no harm.” you tell them, “We’re just trying to get away. When the peacekeepers come up here, urge them to get you out of here.”

“Why should we?” he demands.

You’re reaching forward, grabbing Finnick’s sleeve as you make him go before you.

“Because if you even step foot into the streets, you’ll die.” you hand the Holo off to Finnick.

“Go.” Taurus tells you, “I’ll go out last.”

The others are already going up the metal staircase, you can hear their rapid feet. The only person that hasn’t started moving yet is Finnick.

“Please.” you look at the woman, “I’m telling you it’s not safe here, not even for us.”

You go through the window, and just as Taurus comes over, you can hear the voices and the dozen pairs of footsteps too. Taurus gives one look to the door, then back to the window. You reach your hand out like you’re going to pull him through, but he slams the window shut instead.

As he’s reaching for the curtains, the automatic is in his hands. He tilts his head at you, like he’s telling you to run while you can. Then, the fabric covers the window, and you can hear the first slam into the door.

“Go.” you tell Finnick, pushing him, “I said go!”

Finnick gets moving after that, flying up the staircase faster than you can. He takes them two at a time, and at every landing, he looks back to make sure you’re following. Finnick just barely gets to the ladder when you hear the first bullet leave the gun, and following are the screams.

He’s just barely up far enough when you begin going. At the top waiting is Alioth and Hydri, reaching out to yank Finnick up the last couple of rungs. When you get up there, Finnick takes you all by himself.

At the top of the roof, you take a moment to catch your breath.

“Where’s Taurus?” Hydri asks, looking between you and Finnick.

“Dead.” you tell her, moving along the top of the roof to find a way out. The gap between roof to roof is narrow, you could take this jump in your sleep, “He couldn’t get through the window in time, so he stayed back to help us, but we’re not out of the woods yet.”

You pull yourself on top of the safety wall on the roof, getting to your feet. You shed the backpack, curse the bulletproof vest for getting in the way, and then you throw. The backpack clears the wall without a problem, and you look back at the others.

“We have to keep moving.” you insist.

You back up as much as you can afford, preparing for the jump.

“(Y/n)--!” Finnick yells.

You throw yourself forward in a run, taking the leap. The second roof is a little lower, which is perfect, you land onto the safety wall below, and tumble for a moment. When you catch yourself, you look right back at the others, who are hanging over to make sure you’re okay.

“It’s not a bad jump. Toss me the Holo.” you hold out your hands.

Finnick tosses it to you, and then he throws his backpack next to yours. He mirrors the way you had gotten onto the wall, before hopping over too. Then Hydri, and then Alioth. Just as you all get your shit back together, there’s more peacekeepers coming.

The four of you keep moving, onto the next roof. Then, you force them all to hide against the wall as you take a look at the Holo. The peacekeepers are nearby, they’re an entire rooftop over, and they have no clue what direction you guys actually moved in.

The Holo offers little help, from what you can see, there’s no faint orange dots. But the nearest solid orange one is literally in the street below. There’s no way you’d want to go down there, and from what Hydri said, the alleyway ended with that metal door. If you get down right now, then you’d have to trigger the trap when you step on it.

Unless you’d rather take a chance.

You shed the backpack, digging through the pockets until you pull out a metal ball. Taurus was using these to set off the traps that required weight and sight of something moving. All you have to do is throw this in the street below to set it off. The peacekeepers that are standing on the street will have to hide.

But it’ll take them a moment to realize what’s going on.

“What are you thinking?” Alioth asks.

“Just watch.” you move past all of them, taking one glance at the neighboring rooftops to see that there’s no one there.

You check the Holo again just to be sure, and then you get up, hurling the ball right where the pod should be. For a second, nothing happens.

Then the ground opens up, and starts to crumble.

“Oh shit.” you say, “Nearest rooftop--now!”

The rumbling of the ground gets louder, and you can hear the yells of the peacekeepers. Finnick and Alioth are the first to the rooftop away from the street--the far back one. Alioth sheds all his gear, Finnick gets down to grab his foot, and then he boots Alioth up.

Alioth squirms for a moment, but he gets up, leaning over for his shit. Finnick tosses them up, and Alioth takes it, and throws it behind him, completely disregarding it. And considering you all are on a time limit, it matters a ton.

Next is Hydri, but she insists her stuff goes up first, since everything inside is important. Anyone can read a map, but you all navigating the city without it will be hell. 

You and Finnick stare at each other for a moment, and since you already know what he’s going to say, you hand the Holo off, then the backpack, and Alioth pulls you up with Hydri barely helping. The second that you’re on the higher roof, you’ve thrown yourself over the side.

The building Finnick’s on is tilting towards the gaping hole in the street, getting further and further away from you guys.

Pain strikes your heart, and you panic a bit when Finnick tries to take off the backpack.

“Jump!” you yell to him, “I’ve got you!”

Finnick listens to you, leaving the backpack and all on as he backs up a bit, gets a running start and bolts for the wall. You lean down as far as you can without losing your balance.

Finnick jumps, and with the amount of distance between the two buildings--you’re sure he won’t make it.

Then, his hand hits yours, and you’re reaching down with a second hand to grab his wrist.

Together, you and Alioth pull Finnick up the wall and into the roof with you guys. Once he’s inside, Finnick stumbles and falls onto his back, breathing heavy. You crouch down next to him, placing your hand on his chest.

“You’re okay?”

Finnick takes a breath in, “You were afraid.”

You crack a smile, “Of course I was.”

Offering your hand to him, he takes it. You pull him onto his feet with barely any struggle, patting his back as you move past him to gather your things again. You buckle the backpack, back in place, and take the Holo from Hydri.

“We should be good for a while.” you look up to Hydri.

“Ladder.” Alioth tells you guys, kicking off a hatch, “We should keep moving.”

“Ready to go, Finnick?” you ask.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Finnick says, giving you a smile.

--

You stare at the bedroom, “This feels weird to do.”

“You’re the one that said you wanted to have an apartment in the Capitol.”

You make a face at Finnick, tilting your head, “There’s a difference between getting a brand new apartment and sleeping in someone else’s bed.”

“Then go sleep in the living room.” Finnick heads into the bedroom, tossing his backpack onto a chair.

“How about you go sleep in a different room.” you jut your thumb towards the door, “I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Finnick gives you a cheeky grin as he sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his bulletproof vest, “Also there are no other rooms besides the living room.”

You sigh, grabbing the door knob, “Goodnight, Finnick.”

“You’re seriously going out there?” Finnick asks, throwing the vest onto the armchair with his backpack, “You’d rather sleep on a couch than a bed?”

“I’d rather sleep alone.” you clarify, “But I’m not getting that either way.”

Finnick pats the bed next to him, “We can make a pillow wall.”

“I’d rather deal with the neck pain.”

“Don’t be a wuss.” Finnick says.

He knew that would make you hesitate. 

And you can tell by the smile creeping onto his face more and more as he pats the bed again, “Come on.” he sings.

You squint, “Why are you so eager?”

“Don’t wanna sleep alone.” Finnick is now removing his shoes, “Haven’t really slept alone in years.”

You take in a deep breath, “That’s not what I expected to hear, and it was the wrong thing to say on your part, too. Going to the living room.”

“You can at least sleep on the floor.”

“The likeness of you staring at me all night is too high.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” Finnick scoffs, hurling a shoe at you.

You catch it without a problem, “That’s all I am, sweetheart.”

Finnick’s eyebrows skyrocket, “Sweetheart?”

“God--fuck you.” you turn around, his shoe in hand as you move to the living room.

Finnick is laughing, and he stumbles to catch his footing as he attempts to catch up with you, “You take the bed, I’ll take the floor.”

“Or you could sleep in the living room.”

“Which would still be on the floor.” Finnick says.

You pause in the hallway, watching Alioth and Hydri from it. The two of them are getting along well, Hydri is pretty upset over losing Taurus though. Unfortunately, you didn’t know him very well, therefore can’t mourn for him the same way they can. It was a noble thing he did.

Yet he also took all his weapon supplies down with him when he did it, which is a huge loss. He had--basically--an infinite number of those heavy, metal balls. As for you guys, it’s a limited number, and each one lost brings five pounds out of the backpack. You all discovered that after using so many after Taurus was gone.

Finnick’s not wrong about the living room either, there’s only two couches. And the only thing that looks remotely comfortable after that is the fur rug that’s also kinda matted because the people that lived here apparently didn’t know how to take care of it.

“I’ll take the floor.” You tell Finnick, heading back into the room. You drop everything off by the door.

“No, I’ll take the floor.”

You ignore him, unbuckling the vest as fast as possible before tossing it onto the backpack, and then you turn on Finnick, holding your fists up. 

Finnick laughs, but mirrors your stance, “Bring it on, sister.”

“Oh, right.” you laugh with him, before aiming straight for his gut.

Finnick goes to grab you, but you’re too quick for him, bouncing in your boots as you take a jab at his face. It’s not anything too rough, more of a warning for him to knock off his own shenanigans.

Finnick somehow manages to get a hold of you at some point, twisting your arm and giving you a look, “The floor is mine.”

“Just a minute ago you were arguing for the bed.” you grab onto his wrist to keep him from twisting any further.

“Then I’ll take the bed,” he says.

“I’m fine with that!” you say, swinging your leg up for his crotch.

Finnick doesn’t flinch, staring you right in the eyes. And especially since you didn’t actually fall through with it, it’s extra awkward.

“Get me a pillow and a blanket.” you tell him.

“But you’re sleeping on the bed.” Finnick says.

“Then I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket, geez.” you push him away, since his grasp has considerably weakened.

You start pulling off your shoes, tossing them to your backpack. Once they’re off, you remove the socks too so that your feet can finally breathe, after hours of being walked on and the amount of sweat that they’ve had to endure. When you go over to the bed, you take a seat on it, and then throw yourself back.

The mattress is obviously expensive, you can tell by the way you sink into it. You sigh, closing your eyes.

“Better than your mattress at home?” Finnick jokes.

“Unfortunately.” you say.

“I’m gonna sleep on the bed.” he tells you.

“Whatever, I don’t care anymore.” you say, “I’m actually heading to bed, though. So you can tell Hydri and Alioth that we’re done for the night and we’ll recollect in the morning.”

Finnick smiles, “Sure thing.”

Finnick leaves the room, and you take the time to go ahead and get back onto the bed. You carefully place the necklace onto the nightstand, being sure that it won’t fall off and onto the floor. Then, you get comfortable on the bed.

You all really should be keeping your shoes on and all of that, but it’s not realistic. You’re not going to be able to fall asleep with it on, plus it’ll be like a hundred degrees with that fucking bulletproof vest on.

Finnick comes into the room right as you’re getting comfortable. He tosses a water bottle at you, and you drink half of it before deciding to lay down officially.

“I feel kinda shitty that we’re leaving them out there.” Finnick says, getting into the bed, “I mean, the two victors taking the bed?”

“They told me that I could have it.”

“Whatever.” Finnick laughs, “Hydri said that there was a bedroom back here, and that was it.”

Finnick goes to pull the blanket up, but you kick him with your foot, “Go sleep in the bathtub.”

He rolls his eyes, “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

“Touch me even once, and I swear to god you’re going to wake up with a knife to your throat.”

“That’s not very safe.”

“Neither is touching me.”

[true--north]

Junior Deluxe Novelisation. The book has discrepancies with the canon, and it is a little raw material, which in the existing movie has acquired a more refined and perfected form. Nevertheless, there are interesting details in the book.

From the very beginning, Little Elsa was keenly interested in the world of the spirits and Ahtohallan, as if she felt her kinship with them.

“What would the spirits think of my magic?” Elsa asked, glancing up at her mother.

“When I was little, my mother would sing a song about a special river called Ahtohallan, which was said to hold all the answers about the past,” she said. “About what we are a part of.”

“Mother?” Elsa said as the queen touched the door of the room. “Do you think Ahtohallan knows why I have magical power?”

Elsa leaned heavily into her pillow. “Someone should really try to find it.”

Queen Iduna’s smile was bittersweet as she stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

With the echo of her mother’s lullaby in her ears, Elsa drifted off to sleep. She dreamed about finding Ahtohallan, and learning the answer to every question she’d ever had…and the answers to some of her sister’s questions, too.

On the day of the autumn festival, Elsa and Kristoff saw off the overseas guests, Kristoff told them about reindeer and showed Sven. After that, Elsa went to work in the library, and Kristoff went to the city to order a suit. Anna helped with the decoration of the city, and went to the garden to find the largest pumpkin as a symbol of the harvest.

Elsa liked to be alone, to let her magic be free.

“This was where she went when she had to release extra energy. Whoever or whatever the voice was that had spoken to her in its wordless melody had filled her with more energy and magic than she’d ever felt before.Elsa threw out her arms and let magic shoot from her fingers at full force. Ice and snow filled the air in front of her, then crashed into the fjord. Elsa turned and covered her face, chuckling as water splashed all around her."

Elsa dreamed of the Forest and the young Agnarr and Iduna.

In the eighth and ninth chapters, Elsa thinks that if she allows herself to be herself and answering the Voice, going into the unknown, then it can again "mess things up" and somehow to harm her loved ones: "a voice into something unknown that might take them away from her."

However, "Though she would never admit it, deep down she felt she wasn’t meant to be queen. Every day, as she felt her power grow stronger, it became a little harder for her to deny her doubts and fears, which grew stronger every day. Maybe the mysterious voice knew that and wanted to help her. Elsa decided to answer it, echoing its call."

"Elsa realized she didn’t want it to leave her. She wanted to follow the call into the unknown. She let her arms fall to her sides and looked at the sky, surrendering herself and her power to the voice."

On the night of the Awakening, Kristoff actively helped residents get out of the city, transported children on Sven.

"He stayed in the rear, aiding those who couldn’t keep up.

Working together, Anna and Elsa finally got everyone to the top of the cliffs over the fjord. When Anna looked back for Kristoff, she was happy to see that he was near".

And yes, Anna was too protective, as if she was Elsa's mother.

“If I recall, your powers have mostly just gotten you into trouble. Protecting you has been my job.”

Grand Pabbie nodded in agreement. “She does have a point.”

Anna smiled at the troll. “Thank you.” Then she turned to her sister. “I’m coming.”

Kristoff chose that moment to enter the conversation. 

“Me too,” he added, not wanting to be left out of an adventure. “I’ll drive.”

“I’ll bring the snacks!” Olaf said as the wind twirled him past them, the crystals that clung to him sparkling in the moonlight.

Elsa was reluctant to accept, but as she looked between Anna and Kristoff, she knew her only choice was to agree."

"Elsa’s confidence had grown when she realized the full extent of what she could do with her magic. It wasn’t until after Anna had sacrificed herself for Elsa, because of the true love she felt for her sister, that Elsa finally embraced the truth. Her magic wasn’t a curse. It wasn’t meant to hurt people. Elsa could do more than build snowmen and make beautiful icy patterns. She had constructed a magnificent ice palace that still stood strong today. Her magic was, and always had been, a gift."

"Forest was hidden behind the haze and the rolling particles of colored lights that flashed like lightning bugs as they danced through the mist. Elsa’s heart raced, and she couldn’t resist the pull she felt any longer. She quickly climbed down the side of the cliff, and the others followed."

"But Elsa quickly realized the Wind Spirit was no longer being aggressive.

The group immediately stood around her, ready to protect her.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” she told them.

Gale held Elsa aloft for only a few moments before setting her gently on her feet. Elsa smiled. The Wind Spirit’s energy had lifted her mood and made her feel ready to take on any obstacle that came her way."

"The Northuldra and the Arendellians gathered to take a moment to recognize how important life is and how grateful they should be for each day. As music filled the air, everyone enjoyed warm drinks and bowls of steaming stew."

"Anna was surprised by Elsa’s promise. It was a vow for her sister to keep, not the two of them. Something in her stomach twisted."

“They left?” Anna asked, confused. “Just…just left? Without saying anything?” What could be so important that Kristoff would leave me behind?

Olaf shrugged. “Who knows the ways of men?” He turned and followed Elsa.

Anna glanced back at her sister, getting farther away with each second. Anna didn’t want to leave without Kristoff. But she’d promised to keep Elsa safe.

She raced off and caught up with Olaf. Elsa was ahead of them, pushing through the forest with determination, always aware of the potential dangers all around. Anna did her best to hold her head up and not cry. And when Olaf reached his hand up to her, she gladly took it.”

The shipwreck scene was longer, Elsa saw three statues of Iduna and Agnarr.

One where they danced. Where they were sitting at a table over a map. And their last moment.

“Ahtohallan has to be the source of her magic,” said the distant, distorted voice of the girls’ mother in a memory from long before.

“If we know why Elsa has powers, we can help her,” their father said."

“Do you really think the past can save Elsa’s future?” her father asked.

“No,” her mother replied, “but I think understanding what she’s a part of can.”

The waves are too high,” Queen Iduna said.

“We keep going for Elsa,” King Agnarr replied as a wave crashed onto the deck. “Id una!”

“Agnarr!” she shouted back.

“I love you!” he cried.

“I love you!” she answered."

"Elsa shivered as she looked at the glacier ahead of her. Ahtohallan, the secret river from Mother’s lullaby. It’s real, she thought. There was something about it that seemed so…familiar. She wondered if the familiarity came from the calling of the voice, or from the connection of magic. Because of how the colored lights twinkled and danced around the entrance to Ahtohallan, she knew it was full of magic."

Elsa boldly stepped into the opening of the ice cave, instantly feeling like she was finally where she was meant to be."

"She didn’t tremble anymore. She just needed the voice to show her where she belonged."

It is especially emphasized that Elsa is a gift for Iduna's act, and Ahtohallan rewarded Elsa with memories of her mother, because Elsa proved, after passing the tests, that she is worthy of being the Fifth Spirit.

"The dome above her instantly illuminated with memories, but this time they were sharp and crystal clear. Perhaps it was a reward."

"As Elsa sang along in harmony with the memory of Iduna, she began to transform into who she was always meant to be. Her dress spun around her body, and her hair fell loose and wildly untamed. A crown of vines and leaves adorned her head as the other elements swirled around her—air, fire, water, and earth. Elsa had transformed into the element Honeymaren had spoken of."

"Anna melted into Kristoff’s embrace, unable to hold back her tears.

But the tears weren’t for herself, or for the predicament she had been in. They were for everything she had lost that day…Elsa, Olaf, and now her beloved Arendelle."

"Anna stopped before she reached her sister. It looked like her, but she was different."

"Elsa smiled in a way that let Anna know she had found that and more. And then it hit her. Anna had always known that Elsa was special, that she had always been meant for something more, something greater."

The sisters looked into each other’s eyes, and a shared understanding passed between them. Anna was humbled by what Elsa was asking of her, but thrilled to have the opportunity.

“Together,” Anna agreed.

“I’d like to return these philosophy books, please,” Olaf said. “Seeing as I am at peace with the idea of change, and just so happened to have found the meaning of life, I won’t be needing them for a while.”

“You found the meaning of life,” the librarian said, intrigued. “Well, do tell!”

“Oh, sorry,” Olaf said, “but each person really needs to find that for him—or herself."

"Kai, the royal handler, stood outside the royal tent. Trumpets announced that someone important was approaching. “Presenting Her Majesty…Queen Anna of Arendelle.”

But when the curtains parted, no one was there.

“When should I go?” said Anna. “Now? Right now? Okay.” She peeked around the tent flap at the crowd and then stepped out, nervous and excited.

Her face lit up with gratitude and love when the crowd cheered for her. She greeted each person by name as she passed them."

The memorial was different.

"When they were both in their places, Anna nodded, and they pulled the cords. The curtain fell, revealing a bronze sculpture of young Iduna in the wind saving young Agnarr.

The crowd cheered, and Anna couldn’t hold back the tears that flooded her eyes.

“Our land and people, now connected by love,” she announced to everyone."

"Elsa was exactly where she was meant to be…totally free and in her element."

[timeforelfnonsense]

Lost and Found

Astarion x Dafni 

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort

TW for depression mention 

Ao3

I’ve been working on this bad boy for a month and it’s done at last!

 An important note: There is some reference to the Lolth Sworn drow in this and I feel the need to clear the air and state that I have some issues with the way WotC characterizes the drow as inherently evil. My house rules are that none of the races are inherently evil because the broad strokes in the source material as problematic af. So while the followers of Lolth might be evil I want to make it clear that doesn't equal all drow are bad. Dafni holds all varieties of elves in tender regard. As an eladrin of the fey wilds and a follower of Corellon she understands that fluid and changing nature of all living things. Life is messy and people do not fit into boxes, very few folks are all bad or all god. Not every elf worships the Seldarine and that’s ok. A fundamental part of Corellon is freedom and choice therefore it would be foolish to insist her path is the only right one. Her issue is with Lolth not the drow as a whole.

The Underdark was a horrid and forsaken place. A shudder ran down Dafni’s spine as she rubbed away the gooseflesh cropping up across her arms. Lolth’s influence hung heavy in the stale air. She would have to step lightly. A cleric of Corellon would be a great prize to the followers of the Spider Queen. She missed the warm sun on her face, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. She could feel herself wilting under the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Anxiety was a strange and forging feeling. The majority of her 160 years had been spent embodying the playful delight of spring. Perhaps it was on account of her relative youth. Or, maybe it was the influence of Corellon Larethian, whose wild and wonderful influence she had felt all her life. He had looked out for her. Cared for her as a father would his child. Truly, Corellon felt as much a parent to her as her mother, Thesmia did. A meek half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had given her a reason to leave home when the wanderlust became far too much for her to contain. If she was to flourish as both an elf and a divine servant, Dafni would need to truly know herself beyond being Thesmia’s shadow. Absentmindedly her fingers reached for the familiar crescent moon that hung from her neck.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her trembling hand pulled away empty. Her blood turned to ice. An agonizing dagger of guilt pierced her heart and she felt as though the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her whole. Part of her wished that it would. She had carried the holy symbol since she was a young girl. Though she knew in her soul it had been her’s even before that. It had served as her connection not just to her god, but her heritage and primal spirit- The very essence of her being. 

“I lost it.” Her voice was less than a whisper, stunned and distant. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The world around her was growing colder by the second. “My amulet is gone.” Her breath began to come out in heaves and she began to sob in earnest. “It- It must have gotten lost when the minotaur tossed me!” 

 Her sharp cry stopped her traveling companions in their tracks. Each of their faces dressed in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Gale began to speak but his words were drowned out but the low ringing in her ears. A dizzy, sickening feeling bloomed in her gut and the edges of her vision began to blur as the darkness she had so feared gripped her soul.

They had doubled back to the old Selûnite fort. The others were still there setting up a temporary camp. Shadowheart hadn’t been able to find anything physically wrong with her aside from the normal bumps and scrapes that were to be expected on an active adventurer. 

Astarion felt truly helpless for the first time since he’d escaped Cazador’s clutches. It had been an hour and Dafni had yet to wake. He clasped her hand in his. A soft blue had slowly been spreading over her sage-green skin, creeping its way from the tips of her fingers to the crown of her head. Her locks were shifting at the root from rosy pink to a frosty teal. The flowers that wove through her loose ponytail had all weathered into dust. 

He squeezed her hand, “Come on Daffodil…”

Gale had been fairly positive that this was, to some extent normal for the eladrin of the Feywilds. Something about a book he’d read by some notable wizard? Truth be told Astarion hadn’t been paying much attention. He was too busy staring down Lae’zel, who’s paranoia filled gaze had been locked on Dafni’s sleeping form from the moment they’d returned. 

He should have been annoyed at her. The loss of some silly costume jewelry had caused her to swoon like a high born lady. He knew she was made of stronger stuff than that. Her little spell had put them all behind and left them without a healer the whole trek back to the fort. Yet, try as he might Astarion couldn’t seem to conjure up the ire he held for those too weak to survive hardship on their own.

 He groaned, letting his head hit the wall behind him with a soft thunk. There it was again- That damn sentimentality! By the Hells, he was a vampire, not a nursemaid! What had gotten into him? 

“You should rest.” Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye on her for a bit.” 

His eyes went narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The idea of leaving her while she was vulnerable made his blood boil. 

I’ll watch your back and you watch mine…

Her promise echoed through his thoughts. Dafni had held her end of the bargain with unwavering resolve. If he left now it would feel too much like betraying the one person he’d allowed even a fragment of trust in the past two centuries.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate reaction.” He muttered while he whisked away an icy tear from her cheek. “I’m just a bit... Out of sorts.” 

Wyll nodded, taking a seat on the dusty floor beside him, “Hey, she’s tough. She’ll pull through, whatever this is.” The warlock gave him an almost smug look, “You really care for her don’t you?” 

“I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.” He sneered with a wave of his hand, “Besides, my concern is simply a matter of pragmatism. Our little band of misfits can’t afford to lose our best healer-” Astarion hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell Shadowheart I said that. We need not add my body to the pile- Should things go poorly.” 

“If I promise not to sell you out will you take a break?” 

For the first time since she had fainted, he noticed the scratchy dryness in his throat. Astarion scowled, there was little in the way of appetizing food that he had seen but he would just have to make due. He was loathed to leave her side but Wyll was a good man, a better one than him in truth. He would keep her safe. 

“What’s this? The legendary Blade of the Frontiers, stooping to common blackmail.” He tried to keep his tone flat but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, “Fine, I’ll take a break. I’m a bit parched anyway. I suppose I’ll try to track something palatable down here. Unless…”

 He arched an eyebrow towards Wyll who moved away with an overstated scoot. 

“Not a chance, now go!” 

Cold. 

A crushing, all-consuming chill wrapped its arms around her spirit. Spring had left her. Now she stood alone in the isolating melancholy of winter. She reached out for the familiar warmth of The Protector but here- In this cursed place his influence felt far and foreign. If only she had her holy amulet. It could have served as a compass leading her back to Corellon’s embrace. She would simply have to press on. She had put them behind already and there was no time for sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to cast spells until she found a replacement and the chances of a spare symbol of her god in the Underdark were laughable. Dafni tried to sniff back the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes but it was no use. They rolled down her baby blue cheeks freezing before they could fall to the ground. She glanced up at Astarion, who walked a few paces ahead. While Gale and Wyll had spent the better part of a day coddling her, he had remained distant. 

Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Her sadness threatened to consume anyone near her and he had enough grief of his own. He had admitted once that he enjoyed having her near. Whispered in her ear that she was sunlight and happiness made flesh as he took her in a flower patch of her own creation. 

The feeling of a gentle hand pulled her from her thoughts. Gale offered her a small smile before speaking, “Are you all right?” 

“Oh-” She sniffed, whipping away another frozen tear, “I’ll be alright. I just don’t feel much like myself right now.” 

Gale nodded in response, “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought you here. The Underdark does seem quite at conflict with the very core of your being.”

A mournful laugh escaped her aching chest, “I don’t think we’d have had any better luck with that shadow curse above ground. No, my sorrow isn’t a good enough reason to risk the rest of the group’s safety.” She brought an icy hand to Gale's cheek, causing him to shiver, “I appreciate your concern but really I’ll be alright. We eladrin are ruled by our emotions, a shift of season was inevitable at some point or another. It’s unfortunate for the rest of you it had to be winter. Things are dire enough without my sorrowful presence bringing you all down with me. Perhaps it would be best for all of you to keep your distance.”

 She sighed, her eyes falling on Astarion, who lingered just on the edge of the bitter cold her sadness created. While it pained her to say it, she knew he was right to keep away. The others should do the same if they were wise. Gale gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“He’s a funny one, Astarion.” Gale mused, “Wyll told me he had to resort to extortion to pry him from your side while you were out. Yet, today he acts as if you have the plague.”

A small snort of laughter broke past her tears, “Extortion?” 

“I believe comments were made comparing Shadowheart’s healing abilities to your own. Wyll offended his silence in exchange for Astarion taking a break.”

“That���s not fair to her.” Dafni sniffed, “She’s not a life cleric, she does her best.” 

“You have a good heart, Dafni.” Gale said giving her arm a squeeze, “My point is I think he cares about you, in his own odd way. At the very least he’s far more pleasant when you are around”

“You really think so?” 

“I do,” Gale assured, “he’d have to be the biggest fool in Faerûn not to see how wonderful you are.” 

Dafni felt a bit of warmth return to her heart. Not enough to thaw her sorrows but it was a start. Gale’s words helped her sort through the chaos of her mind as they had so many times before. He was a loyal and kind friend, as was Wyll. Shadowheart too despite her evasive and secretive nature. Even Lae’zel had warmed to her as best she was able despite their differences. There was a solace to be found in the support of her peers. She wasn’t so alone after all.

The sound of her laugh hit Astartion like a battering ram. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits since arriving in the Myconid Circle. She floated about the fungus folk with an easy familiarity. It seemed being among the vibrant plants and creatures of grotto had offered her some sense of normalcy. He looked over his shoulder to see what had coaxed a giggle from her (no matter how pitiful and melancholy it sounded). A sharp twinge of jealousy ran down his spine as he watched Dafni stroke Gale’s cheek with a somber smile. 

He bit the feeling back. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Gentle kindness was hardly his strong suit. Gods, he was a disaster. How many times had she offered him comfort even when he spurned her? She had given so freely to him, her kindness, the warmth of her bed, the very blood in her veins. And there he was relying on someone else to comfort his lover.   

 Dafni was a resilient little thing. So optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. It was disorienting to see her so morose. He had learned the boundaries of her emotional aura rather quickly. He had noticed an unfamiliar warm feeling that first night at camp. He found himself lingering near her as often as he could after that. Savoring the tender happiness that radiated from off of her. She had told him it was simply part of her nature. A charming quirk he’d grown to enjoy a great deal. But now he could feel her heavy sorrow as if it were his own and he longed to make her hurt go away.  

Damn sentimentality.

He had his own worries. He didn’t need to take on hers as well. She didn’t need him to coddle her. And more importantly, he most certainly was not beholden to her contentment for his own survival despite his halfwit heart’s insistence to the contrary. She was making him soft. It was ridiculous! He was far too old to be fretting over her like a lovelorn sprat. 

It must be the tadpole. Her compassion must have wormed its way into his brain somehow. That was the only logical explanation.

He needed to clear his head and get some distance between them so he could feel more himself. He wandered aimlessly about the grotto as he attempted to show away any feelings of softhearted sympathy but it was no use. He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated huff. He should never have taken that first taste of her. She’d become an irresistible craving from that moment on. It wasn’t just her blood, but every aspect of her that called to him. Inviting him to take refuge in her affections. He could feel himself lowering his guard a little bit more each day despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length. She’d flash him that beguiling little grin, her topaz eyes brimming over with admiration and he would find himself tempted to let her just another inch closer. He’d known she was dangerous from the moment he clapped eyes on her in the wreckage of the crash. He’d prepared himself for a stake to the heart but the infatuation she had inspired in him was infinitely more frightening and possible just as deadly.

He made his way to the alcove where the Society of Brilliance had set up shop. The strange hobgoblin had mentioned something to the party about being a collector of magical items and oddities. Walking had failed to rid him of his frustrations perhaps shopping would. 

A glimmer caught his eye as he approached the cluttered stall. There, on the table was a familiar silver amulet. He was going to get it back for her and pray the gesture was enough to curb his need to see her happy. He could swipe it easily enough but he didn’t want to draw trouble to Dafni if she was spotted wearing it. No, charm and a dash of intimidation would be his best shot.

“Excuse me,” He smiled wide allowing for a slight flash of his fangs, “I was hoping you would be willing to part with that necklace.”

“A vampire interested in the acquisition of a holy symbol?” 

“Yes, it’s very ironic.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Now, how much do you want for the damn thing?”

“Well, first time for everything.” the hobgoblin shrugged, “You have a good eye, this is very unique. It’s forged from mithral and inlaId with sylvan moonstones. The holy symbol of Corellon is more commonly depicted as an eight-pointed star these days rather than the crescent moon. Meaning this item is very old indeed! It was brought in just yesterday. I would be hesitant to sell it but my research does require more funding. How does 900 gold sound?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you but ‘very old’ is a relative term when it comes to items of elvish origin.” He kept his tone flat and unimpressed, “Long-lived people do tend to hold onto things.” 

“Ah, but you’ll find this is more than your average antique! Judging by the craftsmanship I would say it dates back to the time of the primal elves.”

Shit. 

Of course, her necklace had much more than sentimental value. He had hoped for a quick haggle but it seemed he was going to have to work for it. He really didn’t have that much coin on him, nor was he inclined to spend it on something that was not rightfully the hobgoblin’s to sell. He raffled through his mind searching for a thinly veiled threat or convincing argument to lower the price until the perfect mixture of the two dawned on him.

Astarion let out a droll hum as he checked his nails with casual disinterest. He spoke in a low, blasé voice, “You said before you weren’t much for combat? Don’t you think it’s risky, carrying around a holy item of Corellon in the den of the Spider Queen? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you at the hands of a zealot. Really I’m doing you a favor by purchasing it. I’ve crossed swords with the Lolth sworn before they are merciless and skilled fighters almost as dangerous and bloodthirsty as vampires.”

He let a wicked bark of laughter. A bemused expression flickering across his face. He could smell the fear stirring in the timid merchant. It would seem he hadn’t lost his edge after all.  

Blurg swallowed hard before mustering a response, “ Ah- I hadn’t thought about that...”

Dafni sat cross-legged on the ramparts of the fort fletching a new batch of arrows. She’d need more to compensate for her lack of magic for the time being. She’d spent the whole trek back to their camp scanning the ground for her necklace but it had all been for not. She’d just have to accept the fact it was gone no matter how much it broke her heart. 

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 The sound of Astarion’s voice caused her to jump, tossing her arrow down with a start. Dafni clutched her chest shooting him a sharp look. He only laughed, his infuriating gorgeous face fixed in a grin that reminded her of a satyr who stumbled upon a river of bathing nymphs. He dipped to his knees placing a hungry kiss on her scowling lips. He couldn’t be serious. All-day she had been desperate for his attention and he was completely uninterested but now that he had an itch to scratch he was searching up and down for her. Unbelievable! She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he’d ever promised her his undying love and devotion. Still, she had thought him tactful enough not to proposition her after the hell she’d been through that day. 

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” She scolded, “You’ll just have to entertain yourself tonight, you egotistical lecher!”

“That- Isn’t why I sought you out. But, if you truly don’t want my company I’ll leave you be.” He shrugged his tone flippant despite the flash of vulnerability in his ruby eyes.

“I- I’m sorry that was really mean and uncalled for. Please stay.”

Stupid impulsive girl.

She slumped forwards, hiding her face in her knees. She could feel the icy tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time that day. He’d come to check on her and she’d cut him down because of her own insecurity. The bitterness had gotten the better of her and she had unwittingly discouraged his attempt at compassion. 

“If you think the accusation of being a rake is the most heinous insult that’s been hurled at me I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark by quite a lot.” 

He sat down beside her, placing a hesitant hand on her back. She could sense his uncertainty. He was nervous and clearly out of his depth but he was trying. His cautious fingertips moved slowly across the expanse of her back, tracing nebulas shapes and patterns as she drew short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She just knew he was staring at her with the same wide, gentle eyes he had when she’d offered her neck to him that night in the woods. If she saw him like that the dam would break and she’d be an utter mess. 

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet as she peeked over the top of her knees at him. 

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I have something for you. Now, stand up and close your eyes.”

She arched a questioning brow but compiled, hopping to her feet. He pushed her ponytail to one side. His touch lingered on her jumping pulse causing a shiver to run down her spine. A warm chuckle falling from his lips in response. The cool feeling of metal draped across her throat, an otherworldly comfort hummed all around her as the delicate weight of a pendant fell against her chest. 

“Where did you find it!!” Dafni gasped, “I thought I had lost it forever! You can’t fathom how much this means to me.”

“It’s a gift, to repay you for all the ones you’ve given me.”  

It probably seemed a small thing to him but he’d returned a missing piece of herself. Words felt woefully inadequate to express her gratitude. She threw her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a bit. She hardly noticed. She stood on her tiptoes placing gentle kisses all over him. First over the bridge of his nose and then his cheeks and down his neck. Her fingers laced through his soft curls tugging him close, her lips brushed against his. Astarion’s hands fell to her soft waist, his mouth ever so slightly parting for hers. Dafni sighed, running her tongue along the warm seam of his lip earning her a satisfied purr. His hand ventured to the small of her back gently coaxing her closer. She took in a deep breath, the dizzying blend of leather and patchouli making her weak at the knee. She could have stayed like that forever, pressed safe and content against his solid chest. The feeling was big and terrifying but magical and perfect all at once. 

Drat...

She was falling in love with him.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Robin and Gale Hood; Ben Hardy x reader Chap. 8

*Author’s note*

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! THERE IS A RAPE SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER. IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE OR HAVE BEEN A VICTIM YOURSELF YOU ARE NOT ALONE!! Please call a local hotline for rape survivors and talk to the people there, they’ll help you. I’ve also put a notice on when the scene is about to begin and where it ends so if you’d like to skip that section of the chapter, go right ahead i DO NOT WANT TO CAUSE FURTHER MENTAL HARM BY REMINDING YOU ALL OF THIS TRAUMATIC THING. 

Chapter 8,

A capture and tainted soul

Taglist:

@simonedk

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@queendeakyy

_______________________________________________________

God all mighty. That Prince John sure made good of his threat, and his subjects paid dearly for his humiliation believe me.  Taxes, taxes, taxes. Why he taxed the heart and soul out of the poor people of Nottingham.

And if you didn’t pay your taxes, you went to jail.  Yes my darlings, I’m in here too. Prince John saw to it that I have my own cell for my song.  I think I may even be coming up on death row in the next little while, who knows.

So unfortunately I myself can’t tell you the rest of the tale of what happens, but what I can say is that it’s not a pretty sight. Especially for our beloved heroine Gale Hood.  So those out there who are light hearted or sensitive to certain reading material, proceed with caution.

Ever since Prince John’s decree, it had been nonstop raining. The sun never once came out to grace the land, and the soil became wet and muddy.  Storms happened almost every day, other days it was just mild rain.

Robin, Gale and the rest of their crew kept a low profile for a bit cause at this point anyone who tried to interfere with business to the crown would be executed right on sight.  It broke their hearts that they couldn’t spare the poor people from Prince John’s wrath this time.

Especially Gale because she knew which family was going to be targeted next, the Sharpe’s.  But one night she would do something that would regretfully change her life forever.

Riding through the rain cloaked and disguised, Gale rode towards the Sharpe’s family cottage.  She stopped her horse and unmounted off of her and walked towards the cottage.  She came up to the door and knocked on it and from inside she could hear the panicked whimpers from the children.

“Veronica, take the children upstairs.” She heard Adam’s voice say.

“Adam, it’s just me.” She softly called out.  The door peeked open and fearfully peaking out was Adam. Gale revealed her face to him and when he saw it was his friend, he sighed with relief and quickly brought her inside.

“It’s alright my love, it’s just Gale.”

“Oh thank God. I was so scared it was the Sheriff. He’s been threatening to come by any day now to take us away cause we couldn’t pay off our taxes.” Gale lowered her hood and comforted Veronica.

“They’ve already repossessed my blacksmith shop. Soon he’ll get the cottage and then……” he sighed heavily as he sat down on his chair. “What has England come to?”

“That’s why I’ve come here.” She told them. “Listen…..England’s no longer safe for you and your family. You all need to leave.”

“What?” Adam asked in shock.

“Leave England? But we—we can’t….where would we go?” Veronica asked.

“I’ve talked with Kit and he’s got some friends along the docks who are willing to do a bit of smuggling with no questions asked. They’ll take you to Scotland and you guys can start a new life there. At least until things calm down. Or pray to God above when and if good King Richard returns to England to set things right.”

“But Gale we—we can’t just up and leave…..”

“Adam please!” Gale pleaded. “The prisons are filled to the brim with everyone. Not just men and women but children! Children! Now I have been there for you for each of your children and I look at them like they were my own. Other families have already lost their children to hunger in the cells. I refuse to let that happen to any of yours!” tears filled her eyes. “I can’t let any more children of England die, I can’t.”

Adam cupped the young woman’s face and wiped her hidden tears away.

“Alright then, when do we leave?” Gale smiled and hugged the blacksmith and praised him.

“Thank you.” she separated from him and told him. “Meet me at the river in an hour. It’s too risky to travel by carriage or horses, we’ll take the river to the docks. I’ve got a boat ready for us to travel in. Take nothing just come with the kids.”

“Alright. One hour.”

“Thank you Gale.” Veronica thanked her as she took the young female rouge’s hand and kissed it.

“Thank me when we get you lot onto the ship. Remember one hour at the river. Bring nothing else but you and the children.” She lifted her hood back over her head and snuck out of the cottage.

She went back over to her mare and urged her onward to the river to get the boat ready.

But they were unaware that just short of the Sharpe’s cottage, someone was watching them.

As promised, the Sharpe family arrived at the river and when they saw Gale, the older children hugged her and the babies all babbled out her name.

“Ms. Gale mummy and daddy wouldn’t tell us what’s going on?” Laura said.

“Yeah Ms. Gale where are we going?” asked Michael.

“Shh, okay now children listen to me. We’re gonna play a little game okay?”

“What kind of game?” asked Robert skeptically.

“We’re gonna play a quiet game. If you kids can stay as quiet as possible till we reach the docks. One of you will receive a special prize from me.”

“Really? WOW!!” Michael cheered.  Gale shushed him and he quickly covered his mouth.

“Alright now everyone onto the boat. And remember children, not a sound. Not a squeak, a peep, or even laughter. We need to be as quiet as possible.” The children nodded and they piled onto the boat first, then Veronica holding her 4-month-old child, and finally Adam.

Gale stirred the boat and soon the family along with Gale rowed downriver.

All was going good so far till the baby started to cry. Gale grew fearful cause she knew if anyone heard a baby’s cry out here, there would be an investigation.

“Ronnie please quiet Aggie down, we’ll be spotted!” Gale hissed softly.

“Shhh hush my little one.” Veronica tried to calm her crying baby down, but it would take a full 15min till the baby finally went quiet.

“Well we know Luke isn’t going to get the prize.” Michael whispered.

“Michael shush!” Robert hissed.

“Yes Mikey shh!” Laura echoed her brother.

“Children please, not another word.” Adam used his stern father tone on is children.  Finally after what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the docks.

After unloading everyone from the boat, Gale lead them through the docks, ducking the guards who were patrolling to make sure no one got passed them except for the merchant ships that were ready to depart.

When Gale found the sails that Kit told her about that showed the Scottish flag, she told the Sharpe’s to stay low in the shadows while she did the talking with the ship’s captain.

She then walked up to a big built man with long flowing hair who was giving out orders.

“Captain Hagrid?”

“Aye that be me. Who are yah?” he spoke with a thick Scottish accent.

“You spoke with one of my informants about a smuggling job. Goes by the name of the Scot.”

“Ahh you’re the lass he wanted me to smuggle that family for yah.”

“Yes. Now you are to promise me that no harm will befall this family. They have no weapons, only their children.”

“You have my word lass. No harm will come to them.” They shook on it when a horrified piercing scream echoed through the docks.

Gale turned and soon found the royal guard taking the Sharpe’s out of their hiding places and binding them in shackles.  But when broke her heart the most were the children being separated from their parents.

“I’ve always hated that Scot. Plus the Sheriff got to me first before he did.” Hagrid sneered.

“You—you bastard!” Gale quickly took out her knife and sliced the captain’s throat with quick precision before going to the Sharpe’s to help them out.

She knocked out a couple of the guards and freed Adam from his shackles before giving him one of the guard’s swords to him while she withdrew her sword.  The two of them stood protectively in front of Veronica and the children before a neigh was heard from the shadows.

Walking out riding on top of his menacing looking black horse was the Sheriff of Nottingham himself.

“Going somewhere Mr. Sharpe?” his low graveled voice spoke as he stared down at all of them with cold, dead eyes.

“Sheriff of Nottingham……I’m taking my family and we’re leaving. You can’t harm us if we aren’t in England anymore.”

“True. But you haven’t left England yet, have you?” soon one of the guards quickly grabbed Gale under her arms while another knocked Adam over the head sending him down to the ground.

“NOO!!” Veronica screamed.

“DAD! DADDY! PA!” the kids chorused out worriedly.

“ADAM!!”

“Take the Sharpe’s to the jail for refusal of tax payment and for fleeing the country.” The Sheriff said.  They once again shackled Adam’s unconscious body before dragging it away as well as the rest of his family.

The kids all crying out for Gale to help them.  Gale tried as best as she could to get out of the guard’s arms but he kept a tight hold on her.

“Sir, what should we do with this one?” asked one of the guards.

“This gentlemen is the notorious Gale Hood, sister of Robin Hood. Allow me to take her from here. Go rejoin the others in putting the Sharpe’s away. And also see to it that the children get a special accommodations.” The Sheriff said grinning cynically at the last statement.

He knew this would get a rise out of Gale due to her closeness with the family.  When the guards left and the bigger guard released her, she quickly withdrew her bow and notched an arrow in the blink of an eye and had it aimed right between the Sheriff’s eyes.

“You think your life is worth more than theirs?! You’re a demon Sheriff of Nottingham! A vile, prideful, lustful, incubus of Satin. I swear if anyone of those Sharpe children die, I will cut off your cock and force it down your throat!” she snarled threateningly.

The Sheriff spoke not a word, only just looked down before suddenly whipping out his sword and slashing apart Gale’s bow.  She stood there frozen for a split second before withdrawing back her sword but the Sheriff forced her to drop it when he slashed her right arm.

She screamed in pain as she knelt down on the ground gripping her bleeding arm.  The Sheriff got off his horse and just walked over to her and grabbed her hair and forcefully threw her head back.  She hissed and groaned in pain.

“Now this is how a woman should behave. Best to be seen, never heard. And always at the knees of her man.”

“You think I’d willingly suck you off? I wouldn’t touch you to punch you.” she hissed.

“You’ll soon know your place Gale. Just like your whore of a mother did.” She clenched her hand into a fist and punched him right in the dick sending him down to the ground and she quickly raced away from the docks and into the forest.

A chase soon happened as the rain once again became a thunderstorm.  Gale ran as quickly as she could through the forest but the Sheriff was close behind her on his horse.

This time he wouldn’t lose her.

Through the muddy trails, Gale would slip but she’d quickly use it to her advantage as she turned another way while it took his horse awhile to turn back around.  Gale then scaled up a tree and proceeded the jump from branch to branch, but the Sheriff was close behind her.

When she came to a familiar path she jumped down to the ground and slide along the mud but quickly came up and jumped through a narrow opening between the narrow opening of the end of the forest.

The Sheriff’s horse neighed as it reared at the sudden closure of the forest but the Sheriff driven by his hatred and desire to capture at least one of the Hood siblings, tried to find another way out of the forest.

Gale ran across an open field until she reached a graveyard. For just ahead was the church where Friar Tuck would give her sanctuary.  Exhausted and tired from the fighting and getting dizzy from the blood loss in her arm, Gale pushed on till she reached the church.

“SANCTUARY! PLEASE FRIAR TUCK GIVE ME SANCTUARY!!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs over the loud rain and thunder while pounding on the closed doors.  She heard the roar and hoofbeats of the Sheriff’s horse and he was now coming right for her.  

Gale quickly ran to the back towards the graveyard of the church but she didn’t get far.  She felt her cloak being grabbed from behind, choking her before feeling herself get kicked in the back but what sent her into a world of blackness was when she hit her head against a gravestone.

Her mother’s gravestone to be exact.

The Sheriff got off his horse once again and walked towards Gale’s unconscious body.  What was going through his mind at that moment was—pure lust.  But it was soon interrupted with a flash of lightning lit something on her left ring finger.

He looked down at her hand confused and intrigued as he reached out and took her left hand and wiped the mud away to reveal a familiar ring. He gasped and said.

“The Queen’s ring.” His fear then turned to pure disgust as he fully turned Gale onto her back. “To think the Prince would choose you. You’ll never be anything to him. Well after I tell him he beloved committed suicide, I’ll have to help him out of his misery.”

He took out his dagger and raised it over his head.  But before he could plunge it into Gale’s heart, he was hit over the head and knocked off of her unconscious body.

“Get away from my daughter!” a voice snarled at him.  The Sheriff held his head to see that it was bleeding and when he looked up, there was Friar Tuck holding a long candelabra in his hands, standing protectively in front of Gale.

“This is none of your concern Friar. You’ve known from the beginning that their family’s been cursed with black magic!”

“You claim her to be a witch just because of your lustful desires towards their mother all those years ago! You then convinced Richard to proceed with a witch trial and have their mother burned at the stakes when she was completely innocent! If you so much as lay a sinful finger on her again……”

“You’re mighty preachy Friar and you’ll end up preaching yourself right into a hangman’s noose. Now for the last time, stand. Aside.” Friar Tuck refused and swung the candelabra right at the Sheriff’s face.

The two men proceeded to battle it out with each other. The Friar getting a good few shots at either the Sheriff’s face or jabbing him in his gut.

“You want damnation?! I’ll give you damnation!” The Friar yelled at the Sheriff.  But soon the Sheriff grabbed the candelabra and pulled it out of the Friar’s grip and pushed him down to the mud.  He placed his sword at Friar Tuck’s neck and the Sheriff spoke.

“I’ll do you one better. You’re under arrest for high treason to the crown.” He then took out some shackles and placed one around Friar Tuck’s neck.  Knowing he couldn’t fight back anymore, Friar Tuck surrendered to his fate.

The Sheriff then walked over towards Gale’s unconscious body and hauled it over his shoulder before going back to his horse and draped her across the black Shire horse.  

He then walked back over to Friar Tuck and grabbed the chain, then like a dog, led Friar Tuck over to his horse and the three of them left the church.

From inside the church, Anita and Jim who had watched the entire thing stood in shock and horror.  Sister Anita wept into her hands while Father Jim tried to comfort her and the two watched helplessly as their Friar and Gale were taken away by the Sheriff.

At the palace as the thunder continued to softly rumble in the sky, Prince John sat down in his throne room surrounded by his gold coins but had a permanent angry scowl on his face.

If one had to compare, his eyes would be seeing red right at this very moment.  Heston stood by his throne looking up at his master anxiously.

“Sire, if I may—you’re not your usual cheery self today.” The Prince didn’t answer him, just kept his fists clenched till his knuckles turned white. “I know. You haven’t counted your money for days, hmm? That always cheers you up.” Heston then fiddled with some of the gold coins with his tail but still the Prince didn’t even flinch from his throne. “Sire, taxes are pouring in, the jail is full. Oh and guess what sir, Friar Tuck and Gale Hood are in prison.”

“FRIAR TUCK!?!?” Prince John exploded as he knocked down some of his piles of gold when he stood up with rage. “IT’S ROBIN. HOOD I WANT YOU IDIOT!!! Oh I would give all my gold if I could get my hands on—” he stopped when he remembered the second name.  He wet his lips with his tongue as he asked Heston.  “Did you say Gale Hood?”

“Did I? Y-y-yes sire. She was trying to aid an escape for the Sharpe family when the Sheriff stopped them.” Prince John pondered before he exclaimed joyously.

“Ahh! Heston I have it! I’ll use that lascivious sister of his to lure Robin Hood into another genius plan of mine.”

“Another trap sir?” Heston asked hesitantly.

“Yes, yes you stupid serpent. Gale Hood will be led to the gallows in the village square tomorrow and burned at the stake for the crime of witchcraft.”

“But sir. Burn Gale Hood, for witchcraft? Shouldn’t there be a trail for her before we suddenly execute her?”

“I’ve seen it for myself back at the tournament of her witchcraft. And the Sheriff has told me more things she’s done to prove herself a witch. Hell even their own mother was a witch. And when our brave hero comes to rescue his sweet, little sister from the breath of hell’s fire. Ha-ha. My men will be ready. Ah-ha!” Prince John spoke cold and darkly as he stared down at the stake where they’ve used to burn witches in the past while thunder continued to rumble.

*WARNING START OF SCENE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION*

When Gale finally woke up, she found herself in a dark room. At first her vision was blurry but her other senses started to come back, she felt on her wrists and ankles chained down.

She tried pulling on them but she was tightly bound.  She felt on her back she was lying on some sort of bed.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up.” Her heart began to beat in fear for when she turned, standing over the bed was the Sheriff staring down at her with lustful eyes.  “If you’re wondering where you are, you’re in the palace. But don’t even bother screaming. Not even your precious Prince will be able to hear your screams.”

At this point Gale was too horrified to even speak, plus she was still out of it from hitting her head as the Sheriff’s face seemed to double even triple through her unfocused vision.  The one thing she did feel was him stroking over her bare arms.

“Such…….beauty. I can see why the young prince would fall for you. Your skin…….so soft. Just like hers was. I wonder,” he then lightly clenched his hand around her throat. “If you can perform as well as her.”

The next thing she knew, he got on top of her, her clothes were being ripped apart and he proceeded to rape her.  No matter how much she tried to fight back, she couldn’t do anything to get the Sheriff off her.

Her screams echoed through the room but no one could hear her. For you see he had taken her to the lowest dungeons the palace had, a place where it’s eternal darkness and emptiness.  Even if the rats and dripping water from the walls don’t make you go mad, the eternal darkness will.

And it was there the Sheriff committed the ultimate sinful action of taking a woman’s innocence before marriage and without consent.

After raping her for over an hour and a half, a knock was soon heard at the door.  He covered Gale’s mouth and hissed down at her.

*END OF SCENE. WORD IS MENTION BUT IT’S NOT ACTUALLY HAPPENING AT THIS POINT*

“Not. A. Word.” He held up his trousers and opened the door just a bit and there stood a guard who relayed Prince John’s decree to the Sheriff. His brow quirked with intrigued and he said to the guard. “Alright, tell the Prince I’ll be setting it up in a moment.”

“Yes sir.” The door closed and the Sheriff told the broken woman.

“Seems you’re finally following in your mother’s footsteps. At dawn you will be burned at the stake and your marriage to the prince will be forgotten. After all why would he want a tainted bride such as you? And even if he did, at least I loosened you up for him.”

After dressing himself and making himself look presentable once again, he left the room and slammed the door behind him and locked it up.

Gale, now a broken shell of her former self allowed the tears to fall down her face as she softly began whimpering brokenly.  

Why didn’t she fight harder? Why was she weak to stop him? Had she just turned around and stopped him back at the church none of this would’ve happened.  It was her fault she had been raped.  It was her fault the Sheriff overpowered her.

It was all her fault.  She thought to herself over and over again.

Someone was walking down towards the cell where Gale was said to be.  The cloaked figure walked through the dark, black hallways with only a torch to light their way.  When the person arrived at the cell, they brought out the key and unlocked it.

The door slowly opened and the person walked inside and knelt down beside Gale.  Their heart broke into a thousand pieces as soon as they saw the broken form of her still body chained up to the bed.  

The person then unlocked her bounds then as soon as she was free, she suddenly lashed out like a wild animal.

Gale knocked the person over and nearly punched their face in when a soft female voice said.

“Gale! Gale! Gale it’s me! It’s Maid Marian!” Her anger suddenly flashed to horror.

“Marian? Oh god I-I-I-I-I…….” Gale quickly got off of her and went over to the corner of the cell and made herself smaller, hoping to disappear into the darkness.

Marian shined the torch towards her and when she saw Gale was stripped of her clothes, exposed to the elements, she set the torch down and unhooked her cloak.

“It’s okay, it’s okay now.” Very cautiously she got closer and closer to Gale and covered her up so that she had her decency back.

“I don’t deserved to be covered in a white cloak. White is pure, untainted, innocent. And I—”

“Stop right there Gale Hood. What has happened to you was—unforgiveable. But it doesn’t make you less of a lady than I am.”

“But Marian…….I—I’m not a…..I’m not a virgin anymore. He’s taken it away from me. I don’t even deserve to even be in your presence.”

“Wrong. You do. Because what you need now more than ever is a friend. Nay your future sister in law. And I will not allow you to degrade yourself like this. God will forgive you because you did not commit the sin of lust. The Sheriff did.”

A sniffle was heard from Gale as she said.

“What if James finds out? What if he won’t—”

“He will not care. If anything, he’ll kill the Sheriff should he find out. In fact, I’ll tell him myself if I……”

“NO!!” Gale snapped out.  She looked down shamefully and gripped the cloak tighter around herself. “He can’t find out. Not like this. I—I should be the one to tell him. Please Marian promise you won’t say a word to James.” Even though every bit of her was wanting to run to James, tell him what the Sheriff had done to his future wife, Marian knew that Gale had to be the one to tell James of what happened tonight.

“I promise.”

“Thank you, sister.” Gale leaned her head against Marian’s chest, right over her heart.  Marian slowly wrapped her arms around Gale and held her little sister in her arms.  

Sending her every bit of comfort she could muster while the two of them sat in the emptiness together.

Outside the village square, the Sheriff of Nottingham along with two of his guards were prepping the stake for a witch burning. The Sheriff stroked the stake with his gloved hand and he said.

“The fox siblings will finally meet their end come daybreak.”

“Sheriff, everything’s in order.” Said one of his guards.

“Excellent.”

“Alms, Alms, Alms for the poor.” A crackly voice spoke up. The three men turned and saw an old blind man coming towards them with his cane poking at the ground and a small mug in his hands. “Oh say now, did me ol ears hear the melodious voice of the Sheriff?”

“Who wants to know?” the Sheriff asked.

“Oh just an old praiser of yours. Being blind, you help keep the thieving scoundrels off the streets after all.”

“Well then…..I suppose you are worth staying around then, aren’t you?” the old man walked closer to the gallows and poked the stage with his cane.

“What’d be going on here?” the old blind man said.

“If you must know old man, we’re finally gonna be rid of one of those thieves once and for all. We’re going to burn Gale Hood.”

“No burn my—” the old man lifted his glasses to reveal Robin Hood but he quickly lowered his glasses back down as soon as the Sheriff burned down and he spoke in the gravelly voice again, “Burn Gale Hood?”

“You bet, at dawn. And maybe it’ll even be a double burning.” Said a smaller, leaner guard.  But the bigger and bulkier one hit him on the head as he snarled lowly.

“Put a cork in it yah wanker.”

“A double burning eh? Who be the other fellow who gets the hellfire?”

“Sheriff, this old man’s asking too many questions!” said the bulky guard as he held his crossbow at Robin.  Robin tried to ease the situation as he said.

“Nahh sonny I didn’t mean no harm by it. But umm…..couldn’t there be trouble if her brother or—even Prince James were to stop it?”

“Well what do you know Sheriff he guessed it. And he even found out about our plans for the young Prince.” The smaller guard laughed out boastfully.

“Oi Nutsy! Button your beak.”

“Oh no need to worry about that. The Sheriff be too crafty, to clever, and too smart for the likes of them says I!” Robin praised the Sheriff who took his compliments like a praise.

“For being blind old man, you sure do know a good character when you see on. Says I.” The Sheriff boasted to himself, while from underneath the hat and glasses, Robin was glaring pure hatred up at the Sheriff. Robin then snuck away carefully as the bulkier guard told him.

“Sheriff. I still got a feeling that this old coot knows too much.”

“Oh shut up Jacob. He’s just a harmless old blind beggar.” Robin then continued his mantra of calling out alms for the poor as he tried to guide himself out.  When he reached the exit, in the shadows stood the rest of the Merry Men.

“Rob!” Little John softly called out.  Robin quickly stood by his men as Little John continued, “We can’t let them burn Gale.”

“A jailbreak, tonight. Is her only chance.” Robin said as he removed the glasses from his face.

“A jailbreak!?” said Gilbert and Kit in unison.

“Robin there’s no way we can…….”

“Boys we’ve got to!” Robin hissed at them as he removed his raggedy hat.  “I promised myself that I wouldn’t lose Gale the same way we lost our mother.”

His men looked at him apprehensively but they all looked at Gale like a sister and couldn’t bare it if she were to burn at the stake.

“What’s the plan?” asked Little John.

“In order for that to happen, we’re gonna need three more players.”

“You don’t mean…..” David said.

“Yes.”

“It’s too risky. What if—”

“If James finds out, he’ll immediately jump at the chance to help. Besides he’s involved already. If he dies, King Richard’s line comes to an end. And we’ll be stuck with Prince John and the Sheriff till England burns to the ground.”

“Robin’s right. But—how are we gonna get into the palace, break into the jail, free Gale as well as the people without being seen?” Gilbert asked.

Together the five men left to regroup and carefully plan out their jailbreak.  And time was of the essence.

[sourbat]

25 or 50, hammertooth or magcharles? 🥺

Sunlight

I’ve been meaning to give butterknife a try...

(special thanks to @metalrat for letting me play with their headcanons here)

Charles was grateful he designed Mordhaus with hardly any stairs, save for the grandiose ones designated for the more lavish, festive rooms, and instead opted for more practical means of getting around the gargantuan fortress as quickly and effectively as possible. Naturally, the boys had little positives to discuss, and Nathan muttered a few lines about Vikings lacking elevators and smoothened flooring, but Charles saw little point in arguing over minor aesthetics.  With so many servants, and the promise of Dethklok’s new army already exponentially growing, having alternative access to rooms, hidden pathways and chambers made locating, servicing, and, quite often saving the boys far more manageable and accessible.  

“I, ah, took the liberty of cleaning a spare room in the dungeon.”

Charles wheeled Magnus up a gentle incline. Despite the model of the wheelchair, Charles required more than his usual effort to keep a steady distance between himself and the handles and the back of the seat. The scientist in the upper levels had supplied a remote control to the left armrest that Magnus refused to use on a basis of (his absolutely stubborn) principle, and with his right wrist handcuffed to the armrest, Charles was placed with the burden of carting the man through the dark, secret passages.

Magnus huffed underneath him. “Wonderful,” he said with a dry flick of his tongue. “I look forward to the sounds of screams filling my otherwise uneventful nights.”

Charles halted to let a hand rest on top of the man’s slumped shoulders. “The walls are thick, and will repress most sounds,” he exclaimed, not picking up on Magnus eye roll until he got close and witnessed Magnus’ less than savory reaction to his presence. “You, ah… you don’t care about that, do you?”

Magnus emitted another dry chuckle. “It doesn’t really matter where you place me, Charles,” he said, then wheezed out an airy cough. Charles leaned close, offering a handkerchief as Magnus covered his mouth with his one, freed hand. He brushed off the offering, shaking his miserable head at Charles. “A hospital room. A cell. A bedroom in a dungeon. I’m still your damn prisoner.”

Magnus had been like this since he woke up from the hospital three weeks prior. Klokateers were sent to locate him upon Toki’s request, but it was only Charles that knew of the man’s actual condition. He was found alive, though not without retaining some severe damage. Charles told the boys he was in a coma, and would likely never waken. A lie Charles knew he would, at some point, retract, but for now, found it easier to keep silent on Magnus’ progress. The impalement left by the assassin had damaged the central nervous system, and though it was possible to rewire the spine and provide Magnus the ability to walk, Charles declined approval for the experimental surgery. Partly out of fear. Partly as a means of enacting justice on a man who didn’t deserve to walk again. Partly out of something else.

This, and the recent heart surgery more than likely meant Charles didn’t need the handcuffs to secure Magnus into his seat, but when a klokateer handed him the restraints, Charles was hit with a blast of nostalgia, and could only think (and say), “why not?”

Magnus was declared healthy for release a few days ago, and since then, Charles busied himself with the arrangements. At some point, he would depart Dethklok for good, but until then, he’d work on this secret side project, fixing Magnus piece by piece, diagnosing the unknown source of his rage and misery, and would, eventually, have the man own up to his terrible acts. There was Toki to consider, after all. There was Abigail, too. Nathan. There was the whole damn stunt he pulled at the funeral.

But, for now…

“Prisoner, hmm?” Charles turned a wide, round corner, revealing yet another hallway leading to an elevator. He added nothing more, letting the stirs and weakened low chuckles inform him of what Magnus still thought of him.

“I sincerely doubt you’ll let me go once I’m all patched up,” Magnus remarked, then rested his heavy head on top of his free hand.

Charles deflected the statement with a question. “Where would you go?”

“Good point.” Magnus finished with a laugh, far softer this time. Charles wheeled him inside the elevator, not saying a word as Magnus’ stare rested on his legs. “You have me where you want me.”

Charles didn’t bother to come up with a witty remark, a joke or question. Any further attempt to detract or defer would have Magnus pushing back harder until he was using his one good appendage to wring the truth out of him.

So he remained quiet. Both men were silent the entire ride, with Magnus facing the consequences of his own actions, and Charles years of “whys and what ifs” he hadn’t bothered asking himself since learning of Magnus’ departure from the band. It had been so hard then, and now it was becoming close to unbearable; all the questions he wanted to ask Magnus.

Why did you do it?

Why did you toss your future away?

Why didn’t you answer my calls?

What if I had stopped it?

What if I had given you the attention you craved? 

“What do you think?”

They stood on top of the head of Mordhaus. An icy, but refreshing morning hit them, stirring Magnus up to clench his ailing chest, and Charles to lower and offer the man his scarf. He was sure Magnus would refuse it, like had every small, kind offering affronted to him, but this time greedily took the cloth and brought it up to his bandaged front.

Charles took it as a sign of progress.

He asked again. “What do you think, Magnus?”

Magnus was silent. Not out of defiance, but because the sight of the sun compounded him so. He’d spent his entire recovery induced, forced to face the unending darkness and whatever machinations his mind would allow while under the influence of power opioids. His time spent awake wasn’t much better. Charles purposely kept Magnus in a room separate from the rest, secluded and lacking a window. Any light Magnus was exposed to was falsified, a product of man’s great undertakings. And, as of earlier this morning, Magnus would be spending an… undisclosed amount of time healing in his new room. Much like his hospital room, this one would be small, isolated and kept secret to most of the staff.

This room would also lack the extra lighting the hospital supplied, and somehow Charles knew that Magnus was aware of this.

Charles stared out at the blue fields below them, eyes gazing up the sea of swaying blades of grass against the morning breeze, and those in the distance that were gathering sunlight and shifting into a more natural dark green hue. In the distance, the top of massive trees shook against the harsher winds, gales that made the entire forests groan in misery at the start of a new day.

The sun, however, rose proudly against the icy winds and foggy atmosphere, tearing through the sheet and hitting Magnus with the first real warmth that he had no choice but to accept. Warmth Charles hoped he might be able to offer, one day.

If either would allow.

Charles lowered to Magnus’ level. “Well?”

Magnus blinked. Charles thought he heard something similar to that of a smothered choke. “It’s nice, I suppose.”

Finally, an end to the attitude.

“If you be good, I promise you can watch the sun rise more often,” Charles said, unaffected at how such a simple reward could sound so ominous coming from him. He saw Magnus shirk underneath him, and knew the message had come off as intended. Still, despite the cruelty behind his words, the desire to get close was still there, and his hands quickly left the wheelchair’s handles to rest on top of Magnus’s shoulder. “We can watch together… or on your own. Whatever you prefer.”

This time Magnus made no attempt to cover the frustration in his forced, pained laugh. “And who will have the honor of wheeling this waste of space up the topmost floor?”

The sarcasm, though unwelcomed, returned familiar feelings of a simpler past.

Charles pressed his face into the center of Magnus’ crown, breathing in the smell of freshly washed hair he had worked so thoroughly to clean. “…good point.”