#and getting through a couple rounds of trying to be diplomatic and then saying i had to leave

[anonymusbosch]

.

[empty-masks]

Book Four, Chapter Nine

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

Jules is still firmly and comfortably settled into a recliner, and nearby Lucille’s been looked at for at least long enough for Roxanne to essentially tape and bandage her nose into something resembling a proper position, operating on the assumption that it’ll heal right if the merc doesn’t go and headbutt somebody. Across from the two sits, Leon, arms crossed and head tilted up so that he can stare at the ceiling instead of at them.

    Olive left the room moments ago at the request of Jules, though only after Leon gave her a nod of a comforting, worry-not sort. The silence hasn’t stirred since the sound of her feet disappeared among the halls, at least not until, finally, Jules clears his throat and says, “I think we have something to talk about, Leon. It’s Leon, right?”

“Yup,” he replies, turning his golden eyes on the two. “I know you two aren’t dumb enough to go after someone you don’t know the name of. I bet you know what size shoe I wear.”

Lucille laughs nasally, then groans and rubs her forehead. “Pain meds aren’t worth shit for me, should’ve known better than to take them. Yeah, we know, but not your shoe size. Just the important parts.”

His good hand raised, Jules clears his throat. “Might as well talk about it now, while we’ve got the place to ourselves. Right, Lucille?”

The woman’s eyes dart from the Vampire to the Orc, and she sighs through her mouth. “You probably know I was the head of security for a couple mining sites belonging to Shepherd Gemstone, with Jules here as my number two. Some guys of ours did some horrid crap to you.”

“That’s a way to put it. I’m sure you got an earful, those pricks seemed like the types to brag,” Leon replies.

Jules offers an awkward, almost diplomatic smile. “Yeah, we did. Busting someone is something our bunch brags about. They didn’t spare any details, either. Now look—”

A gloved hand is raised, silencing Jules as Lucille shifts to sit directly across from Leon, all before she speaks. “Leon, I’m not going to pretend it hurt to know somebody working for us did that to you. I’m going to be clear about it, because as much as I expect this to be grounds for you killing us in our sleep, we didn’t blink. What happened to you did not so much as register on our radar beyond being some new thing some dumb assholes were going to use to try and pick up some vapid morons at a bar someplace when they get really drunk and think being mean to poor people’s a turn on. I laughed when I heard what happened.”

“Lucille, I don’t think he wants to hear about…” He trails off.

Leon is standing up. His lips are curling awkwardly, as though frowning, but the missing tusks are leaving space not meant to be empty. “I’m leaving if you just came here to gloat.”

Lucille shakes her head. “No. We came to tell you the truth, not to gloat. All things considered you’re better off than we are right now. Anyway, the point is that when it happened, we didn’t care. It was just another day. All that pain and suffering, and for us it was another nine-to-five. I was handling guard schedules and worrying about a date the next week. Jules was probably more intimately and emotionally affected by running low on mustache oil than he was by what those guys did to you.”

“Lucille, I love you to death, but I’d really like to not get killed in my sleep—”

“All that said,” Lucille continues, interrupting Jules again, “we’re sorry that happened to you.”

Leon’s eyebrow raises. He sits back down and settles his heavy arms across his knees. He takes a shallow, but effortful breath. “Sorry? Why the fuck would you be sorry? You didn’t even do it.”

“We were their bosses, so we might as well have. If anything you should hate us for not doing anything to the guys that did.” Lucille leans back against her seat.

“Actually, we did do something,” Jules points out. “They were the first round of layoffs. Always get rid of the trouble hires and the guys with an eye for upward momentum when cutting expenses, Leo, saves you a million headaches.”

“Leon. Point taken. But, the guys who took my teeth…”

“Were fired at some point, yes.” Lucille rubs the back of her neck. “I’ll be honest, I don’t even remember their names.”

“I do, but only because I was handing out the pink slips. Never be that guy, Leon. Never. People’ll hate you for something you’ve got no control over, rather than something you actually do. It’s the worst kind of shit to be hated for.” Jules is smiling stupidly again, warm. “Yeah, though, we’re sorry that happened and all. We’ve done a lot of bad stuff in the past ourselves, but uh… I can’t recall anything like that. Even we’ve got a limit, and we’re horrible.”

“Oh, the worst.” Lucille laughs again, though now it’s quieter in pursuit of some sound that won’t make her nose feel like clawing itself off of her head. “We eat people and we aren’t even that fucked up. You know, that bunch of idiots made me feel like a normal person.”

Jules is snickering, and then he says, looking toward Leon, “Oh God, you probably think we’re crazy.”

“You say that like we aren’t.” Lucille’s doubled over and doing her best to keep her laughter down. “We’re every kind of screwed up. At least we’re owning it!”

Leon blinks. By this point his face has returned to a deadpan, and more than anything he’s just surprised. No anger registers on his features, no hate or pain. And then, without a warning, he begins to laugh too. Jules and Lucille both begin to rise in volume with him, and then all three have to force themselves to stop, with Lucille clutching her face, Jules clutching his side, and Leon clutching his chest.

When the sudden sounds of wheezing and pain from the three die down again, Leon speaks, saying simply, “You two are seriously fucked up.”

“That shouldn’t be news to you, pal.” Jules tilts his head.

“It’s not,” Leon replies. “Not in the slightest. I’ll say it’s my first time laughing at it, though, I didn’t know the world had this kind of humor to it. All this shit happens to me, and when I finally meet someone that apologizes and shows some semblance of wanting to take responsibility, it’s the people who didn’t even have a hand in wronging me. Now that’s a joke. You two are braver than I’ve been lately. How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Lucille’s finally sitting up again, readjusting her bandages and dabbing at her nostrils with a tissue from a small box nearby, soaking up a small amount of blood.

“Apologize to somebody you know you hurt, when you know there’s a chance they might fuck off into the sunset. How do you say sorry to someone when it’s only going to hurt? I think that’s the bravest, dumbest thing I’ve seen someone do today.”

Jules chuckles. “Only because you didn’t watch that detective get her ass kicked.”

Lucille, however, gives the question some thought. “Lately, honesty’s been a big deal, at least for me. This world’s fucked up, and you’ve gotta talk to the people you’re working with if you want to get by without losing something important. You can get far if you’re willing to be honest with each other, even if the truth is going to hurt. Sometimes it’s for the better.” She turns to Jules, then.

His smile’s gone. It’s been supplanted by an awkward pursing of lips and a contemplative hum, at least until he speaks again, saying, “I’m never gonna live that down even if you do forgive me for it. Yeah, your best bet is to be honest. If a lie’s necessary to keep somebody in your life, it’s probably a bad idea. Take it from me, Leon— that shit won’t stay hidden forever, and all lies fall through the cracks. Question is, whether you want it to fall out on its own or if you want to be the one to bring it down yourself. The latter’s the safer option, even if it’s scary as shit. Which is why we’re saying sorry.”

Leon actually smiles then. It’s as awkward as most of his expressions, partially from disuse and partially from a quirk of mouth muscles anticipating more teeth than he has, but it’s endearing enough. “Makes sense to me. You two are mercenaries?”

“Sure are. Pays to be a decent talker when you’re a private contractor. Don’t get all those steady jobs like those tight-pantsed guild pricks.” Jules scoffs.

Lucille grumbles in turn. “It’s not like you need a degree to crack skulls. Goddamned frilly plate wearing—”

“And don’t get me started on their rates, fuck! Practically undercutting the whole business.” The Vampire hisses, then grins. Lucille turns to look at him, and both laugh softly, quietly, again to avoid hurting themselves.

“You two really are weird.” Leon sighs, brushing his hair back as he looks down to the floor, between his boots. “If that’s all, I should get going. I’ve got some folks I need to apologize to, if not now then… Soon. Before anything else happens, since there’s always something happening and it’s always happening to us.”

“You mind me asking who?” Jules chuckles. “I can’t lie worth shit, but I can keep a secret.”

“No, he can’t,” Lucille corrects, “but if you’re willing to spill, we’ll listen. We’re sure nobody’s going to be asking us much about anything given I think most of your pals are scared of us, except maybe Olive— maybe— anyway, the point is we won’t tell anyone.”

“...You mind giving me a percentage of success, here? One’s been getting shit on for something I did, which I think he thinks he did. The other’s somebody who actually likes me, who’s been hurt pretty bad. But, uh, I realized I really like.”

Lucille holds up a finger. “Define “really like.” That’ll affect things.”

He rolls his eyes. “Really like. Nine out of ten on a scale.”

“Love?” Jules poses the question, a single word, with a tilt of his head and an infectiously nosy tone.

Leon sighs again, standing back up. “Sure. I didn’t think I was going to have to deal with it until I was somewhere better, to put it in other words.”

“Oh, you’re fucked.” Lucille shakes her head.

Jules nods, eyes shut sagely. “Positively fucked, Leon. Good luck out there.”

All the energy is sapped from Leon then and there. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“Ten,” Lucille says, affecting a near professorial voice. “Ten percent chance, in my professional opinion.”

Jules shrugs one shoulder. “I’ll be generous, you’ve got a fifteen percent chance. That’s all just calculation, though. Percentages mean nothing in the face of skill and gumption. Just don’t screw up, and you’ll be all good.”

Leon’s eyes shut and he places his hand against his face, palming against his nose and cheek for a moment, rubbing at one of his eyes before placing both arms back at his sides. “Thanks for the pep talk, you two.”

“Let us know if you need anyone to ruin your good mood again,” Jules says with a smile.

“We’re not going anywhere soon,” Lucille adds, leaning further back in her seat.

Leon nods, then heads out of the room. “I get the feeling.”

==============================================================

With Brie all patched up and fast asleep in one of the guest rooms, the three old-timers find themselves in the kitchen post-makeshift medical accommodation conversion. Roxanne rinses off her hands for the last time, wipes her forehead, and sighs deeply.

“Good lord. You wouldn’t mind breaking out the bourbon, Sam, would you?” she says, walking over to Azariah and practically falling into his chest.

The Hound chuckles, and takes no time to open a high cabinet, pull out a bottle of dark brown liquor, and pour everyone a glass. “Cheers,” he says, “to old times.”

Both Roxanne and Azariah look at one another for a moment before downing their drinks. It wasn’t entirely unrelated what he had said, but it was a little unexpected.

“I don’t remember much of this happening back in the old days,” Azariah mentions. “My memory goin’ bad?”

“Sometimes I forget where I parked my car. Or when I’m shoppin’, I’ll forget my grocery list. Maybe your head’s goin’ all mushy like mine,” Samson laughs. “In all fairness, though, this whole fiasco’s just reminded me of how things used to be. The excitement of it all. I know we weren’t out there doin’ this kinda stuff, but it’s got the same tune. The same feelin’ in my chest, ya’ know?”

“I would say that’s appropriate. I don’t think anyone within half a mile didn’t feel it in their chest when you pulled the trigger on that snake,” Roxanne chuckles.

Samson points his glass toward her. “And you haven’t changed one bit, neither. Always so literal, even after stitchin’ someone back together.”

“You want literal, you wait until that girl wakes back up. She’ll be the one driving you crazy.” She adjusts herself to not be leaning up against the Hare anymore, and holds out her glass for a refill.  “It’s funny. She finds me nearly dead, and immediately thinks to patch me up. She saved my life, you know. And now, I’ve returned the favor.”

Azariah grabs the bottle and pours her another. “How’s the leg, by the way? Last time we met, you were just gettin’ used to walkin’ again.”

“Wait, you’re missin’ a leg, Roxanne?” Samson asks, raising his eyebrows.

She pulls up on a portion of her dress to reveal the prosthetic foot, all dusty and banged up from the adventure. “A foot, and it’s doing quite fine. I feel I might need to wash it soon, however. I don’t think it’s meant to do the things I’ve put it through.”

“I was more referrin’ to you,” Azariah wraps an arm around her. “Oh, honey. It doesn’t hurt anymore, though I do get some of those phantom pains every now and then. Mainly when I’m feeling a little down, but these days, there’s been very little time to wallow in it.”

“I agree.”

“And how about your back? You seem to be standing taller than usual.” Roxanne gives the Hare a pat on the chest. “Has all the frolicking in the countryside helped straighten you out?”

“‘Straighten’ is a strong word, I think,” he replies. Samson cough-laughs in the background. “I’d say it just ‘helped me realize some things about myself’. And it wasn’t the countryside either, it was a visit from the chiropractor.”

Roxanne frowns. “The last time I checked, there aren’t any of those whack-jobs for miles.”

“You’re right, the one I met recently just died in a fiery explosion.”

The Fox’s mouth opens in disbelief. “No.”

“Yes, honey. That’s exactly what happened.”

“Can ya’ put a friend into the loop with these things, folks?” Samson adds, pouring himself another glass.

“You tell him,” Roxanne says, downing her own.

“So, y’know that guy who’s been chasin’ us?”

“Yeah,” Samson replies.

“Well, right before he died, he found us. And though we tried to get him off our trail, it wasn’t workin’. So, I decided to go round two with him.”

“And?” “I lost pretty bad. And he decided to pick me up with both his hands and try breakin’ me over his knee for good measure. Send a message to the others, you know?”

Samson practically barks with how hard he laughs. “And ya’ got back up, didn’t ya?! Fresh as ever?!”

“Havin’ rocks in your bones seems to help when it comes to that kinda stuff. Put the spring back in my spine.”

“Did ya’ give’im the flyin’ knee? Tell me ya’ knocked his lights out, Azariah.”

“Oh I gave him the works, alright. You could call it a total power grid failure, but that’d assume he had anythin’ more complex than a lightbulb up there anyways.”

“God,” Samson says, smiling like a fool. “What I wouldn’tve given to’ve seen that. Seein’ ya’ get at a pup like that would’ve been better than barbeque. Would’ve been just like old times.”

“I feel better than old times, Sam! He really did me a favor.”

“Are ya’ sayin’ you’d make a comeback in the ring?” he suggests.

“No, no, no,” Roxanne cuts the two off. “No more of this macho crap.”

She turns back to Azariah, and holds a finger up to his face. “You’re lucky we weren’t in Fusillade at the same time, mister. I swear, I would’ve dumped your ass then and there. I can’t believe you’d be so reckless. And at your age too!”

The Hare takes her hand in his own. “I thought we weren’t on?”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

“It was life or death. And I made the decision to fight for the former. And I’m still here, at the end of it all, so it ain’t like things were all that bad to begin with.”

“You aren’t acting like the man I knew back at the mine,” she says.

“You’re right, I’m standin’ much straighter than I was before,” he replies, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “It’s fine, honey.”

“Don’t do it again, or I’ll cut you open myself to see if those rocky bones of yours are as tough as they sound.” She pours herself another glass. “Also, Blondie’s still alive, in case you haven’t heard.”

“What?” Azariah’s ears twitch, and there’s a long, uncomfortable silence as he glances between her and Samson.

“You know our friend, Meat? Blondie’s turned into one of those Notuses too.”

“The person who burnt a couple footprints onto my nice wood floors?” Samson mentions, frowning. “They were pretty aloof for someone who causes property damage by walkin’.”

“They’d just been unconscious in your lawn, Samson. Don’t be so hard on them.” “Fair enough. I expect them ta’ help out with the repairs, though.”

“Sam, they’d just burn the planks.”

This hits the Hound quite hard, and he decides to take a swig directly from the bottle to help soften the blow. “Don’t mind me.”

She turns back to Azariah. “Yes, Blondie’s alive. And he’s got the same sort of control over fire magic that Meat does, so long as there’s some consistency in how the Notuses abilities’ are given.”

“So that means…”

“Yes, that means that the guy whose ass you kicked has gotten as much, if not more, of a ‘fix’ than you did.”

“That’s a pickle,” Samson adds.

After another quiet moment, Azariah smiles and says, “So we’ve got a tiebreaker on our hands?”

Roxanne pinches his arm. “You’re not fighting him again, you old bastard! He nearly burnt down Fusillade!” she half-yells.

“The boys’ve been sent out to help with’em,” Samson says. “There ain’t no business like the business of cleanup.”

“It’s that bad?” Azariah asks.

“Ohhhh, yeah. Entire buildings need to be torn down with how much damage that sucker did. Some roads need rippin’ up too, since the heat’s got’em all cracked an’ unsafe. Didn’t realize that was your guy, though. Tiebreaker indeed.”

Roxanne points a finger at the Hound, who chuckles. “Don’t encourage him!”

“What, it ain’t like I won’t be there cheerin’ him on, Roxy. An’ if things go wrong, I’ll be there to kill the bastard anyways. You will too, right?”

“I don’t like the sound of gambling with our lives so that you can have a rematch,” she grumbles.

“Well,” Azariah starts, hugging her from the side. “It’s probably gonna happen anyway, so we should think about what we’re gonna do in that situation.”

“I’ve got a boxin’ bell in my shed we could bring,” Samson adds.

==============================================================

    There’s a nervous energy on the back porch as Judith and Cherry settle down to sit on the step and Leon stands opposite, hands folded in front of himself and his expression dour. The air’s cool and the sky, like his expression, is cloudy. Finally, he raises one of his hands to them both. “Hey. There’s something I’ve been meaning to say. Especially to you, Judith. I’m sorry.”

Judith crosses her arms, then nods. “What, for ditching me back at the bar? You should be, shit. But whatever, I forgive you. It was one time.”

Cherry glances between them both and says, “I don’t think he’d call me out here if it were just about that, Judith.”

“Like there’s anything else to be said about you?”

A cleared throat. Leon watches as the two look to him again, this time with added attention as he again says, “I’m sorry. This is— it’s hard to get out, but now’s the best time. Remember what happened back on-site, when that drill blew up.”

“Hard to forget what Cherry did to me.” A pointed glare is leveled at Cherry, who simply sighs and bows his head.

Cherry mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Cherry, it wasn’t your fault.”

Both Cherry and Judith show some dumbstruck faces before the former lapses into the confusion and the latter into rage, with Judith tersely stating, “He took my fucking hand.”

Leon shakes his head. “No, I did. I fumbled adding that slag to the water supply. Added the whole fucking thing on accident. I’m amazed you didn’t see it, Cherry— and if you did, I appreciate you keeping quiet. You don’t need to worry too much.”

“No, I didn’t. I was distracted,” Cherry says softly, “by the new model and by Judith yelling at me.”

“Well,” Leon begins before Judith can ask why this conversation’s happening, it seemed damn well clear cut to her what happened, “either way, I was the one who fucked it. The stupid machine blew up because my fingers slipped.” One heavy hand reaches up and smooths his hair back as his eyes move from their position staring at the ground to searching their expressions. “And, I let Cherry take the fall. Seemed like the better option at the time. Compared to sticking my neck out over it, at least. Especially after we started talking more, Judith.”

She’s silent, expression far away. No anger’s there, something unexpected on Leon’s side of things, but there’s something else in its place. Confusion. The wheels are turning without a direction; a conflict of interests, maybe. It’s a bit new to her. At least anger’s a simple thing, easily directed, but this isn’t. It refuses.

“I wanted to tell you back at the bar. Those locals started getting up in our shit and I—”

Judith raises her hand. “Leon, stop. Please stop.”

He frowns. “I know it’s bad. I disappeared on you when those idiots showed up, but—”

“I asked you to stop,” she interrupts again. Her hand goes to her face during the silence, rubbing at each eye individually as she keeps her other arm tucked neatly against her body. “Don’t open your mouth. Just be quiet. You too Cherry. Just— fucking—” Her tone’s faltering with each word now. The semi-malicious, self-righteous anger she could normally muster isn’t clicking. There’s no lengthening of fangs or intensifying of the green in her eyes as she finally opens them again, locking gazes with Leon. There are small tears, pinpricks in the corners of her eyes, but no more than that. “Both of you just stay quiet. I need to go take a breather.”

She stands and ignores both men as they make half-hearted, lackluster gestures to get her to stay. By the time actual words come out of Leon’s mouth, “Judith, wait,” she’s disappeared right in front of them both.

Leon puts his hands to his face and grumbles a few curses beneath his breath before he turns and allows himself to drop into a spot beside the still dumbstruck Cherry with a heavy thud. “I fucked that up pretty bad, didn’t I? Shit.”

Cherry sets a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Actually, all things considered, I think that went far better than I expected it to. You know, you’re right, too. I probably would’ve tried to cover for you if I’d known. You two seem happy together.”

“Really? You’d really endure her bullshit for the sake of keeping us close? You’re pulling my chain.”

After scratching his chin, Cherry shrugs. “She didn’t scream at us. She didn’t call either of us idiots, or start getting really, really verbal. She also didn’t turn into a big wolf and kill us, which is definitely something she can do, if you’ll remember.”

Leon shakes his head. “She only does that when she’s stressed. And she doesn’t kill anyone.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t kill me over that Skitterbat thing. Man, I miss Skippy. Hey, do you think I could find one of those things closer to home? I bet Olive would know.”

“How can you joke around right now? You saw her.” Leon’s brow furrows. “She looked like she was having a crisis. She probably fucking hates me now.”

Cherry shakes his head. “I can joke because it’s, uh, really the only thing I can think to do right now. It’s relieving to know that I didn’t actually do anything wrong, but it also kinda sucks. I guess I’m just trying to soften the blow, a little. Get you going again, to try and keep the conversation going when she’s ready. And yes, Leon, she likes you. She doesn’t just hate you less than the rest of us, she likes you. She doesn’t hate us, not anymore I think. And neither do you. You like us too.”

A shallow sigh escapes Leon, who rubs his jaw. “Yeah. The old Hare’s a good listener you’re a good head to have, and Olive’s supportive. Even if she gets the shakes.”

“And you want to sleep with Judith.”

“I never said that.”

Cherry smiles. “Didn’t have to. Nobody with half a brain would admit to what you just did if you didn’t feel something really deep. Or, you know, just really intense. Sometimes it’s shallow and just doesn’t get any deeper but it makes you do things like buy something stupidly expensive from an autoshop because you want to have a brief conversation with the register guy who’s got these magical looking eyes…”

“You’re losing me here.”

“Sorry, I think I was too. The point is, while it’s nice to come clean about this sort of thing, this is far and away the sort of stuff you admit to when you’ve got nothing to lose or a lot to gain, and based on how you two act it just makes sense. It’s like putting a matching pair of puzzle pieces right next to one another, and telling me to solve.” Cherry pats his shoulder again. “So what, though? She’s obviously into you too.”

“That doesn’t solve the problem of her hating me, though. I’m past that everyone and their fucking mom can tell I’m into her. I’m surprised you don’t hate me! She’s treated you like shit this whole time all because I didn’t own up.”

A sigh enters the open air before Cherry shakes his head. “I used to feel pretty bad about it, yeah, and I’m kinda angry that you didn’t own up when I was getting put down for it. All that said, I haven’t had much time to really stew in it. I nearly broke my nose trying to kill someone who I thought was about to kill all of us. Inside that house, right now, is at least two people who tried to kill us and a third who decided against hauling us to be cut up like lab animals only because Roxanne got through to her. Plus, if what Olive told me is true, that man who we saw die is not only still alive, but apparently now has flaming superpowers, plus another ex-foreman is chasing us too.”

Saying this, Cherry takes Leon’s head by either side of it to force the Orc to look him in the eyes. “Being called an idiot by someone whose vocabulary is half swears stopped being a big deal for me somewhere around when I thought Azariah died. Leon, I’m a little mad about all of this, but God— think for a second, man.”

“Point taken.” Leon pulls his head back, then rubs the back of his neck. “So… The Judith question?”

“Let her take her time,” Cherry says. “If she forgives you, she forgives you. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t. It was an accident and she likes you, my money’s on forgiving you. Don’t push her, though. She has every right to be mad over getting hurt, but she doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Okay. Maybe you’re right. Or maybe she’ll toss me to the curb when this is all over.”

“Over?”

Leon’s brows raise. “Yeah, Cherry. Once this is over. When we get out of range of the company? When we’ve got no more reason to stick together. We’re probably gonna split once it’s safe to, right. What, did you think we were gonna be a forever unit?”

“I mean, a little, yeah. Maybe not Azariah since he needs to stick with Roxanne, but at least you three. And where will you go, Leon?”

“Honestly?” He blinks. “I was hoping Judith might help me there. Doesn’t seem too likely anymore.”

“Nowhere to go?”

Slowly, the Orc shakes his head.

Cherry smiles slightly. “There’s a nice couple of guest rooms in my dads’ house. Consider it an offer, if we get there and you’ve still got nowhere.”

“Thanks, Cherry. I appreciate it.” Leon smiles for a moment, then leans up and glances toward the backdoor. “Hope she’s alright.”

“Someone’s got it bad.”

“You feel like telling me more about magic eyes?”

Cherry laughs. “Alright, fine. I’m rooting for you, man.”

Chapter End.

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[ Table of Contents ]

Blondie & The Smokestone March is © 2020-2022 Empty Mask. All Rights Reserved.

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 6

So I'm thinking next chapter will be... a big one.

You cannot know how happy I am to see all your comments and reblogs and messages and general kind words about how this story is making you feel. Love y'all. Keep asking! Keep messaging! I want to talk about this all day lmao.

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Angst, slow-burn, yearning, 18+ language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Next Part Playlist

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

Age: 20

“Why did you even ask me out Frankie? Do you even like me?” She was embarrassed, walking towards the door.

“Yes of course, I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.” He tried to walk it back but she was incensed, her cheeks burning bright with anger. She rounded on him when she got to the door, making him step back slightly from her onslaught.

“When you invited me over to meet your friends I didn’t expect to be ignored so you could flirt with her. Get your shit together Frankie, I’m not gonna go out with someone who’s too busy pining over someone else to notice me.” Her eyes were bright with un-shed tears, if she expected some sort of answer or explanation - he had none.

He watched her go.

“Everything okay Francis?” Spills had come looking for him.

“Yes, everything’s good. She had to go.” He had a big smile for her when he turned around.

“Will she be back?” Thankfully she hadn’t heard them.

“I doubt it.” He couldn’t be too sad about it though, not when she looked up at him like that.

——————

**Present Day**

He could still feel her wrapped around him as he walked to the shore. Could feel her moulded to his back, her legs on his waist. He had meant every word he’d said to her, he would gladly stay there with her forever.

“How was the water babe?” Claudia kissed him when he lay on the towel next to her to dry off, wrinkling her nose slightly at the water that trickled from his hair onto her face.

“Beautiful.” His eyes were on Spills, floating in the water. “You should take a dip.”

“No thanks, I’m perfectly happy here. Can you get my back babe?” She smiled up at him but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were trained on the water. “Francisco?” She had to tap him to get his attention. He tore his gaze away to face her.

“Sorry babe, yes of course.”

You can’t keep doing this Francisco. Get your fucking shit together and focus.

“You okay fish?” Pope's voice startled him slightly and when he turned to look at him his expression was serious. “You seem a little… distracted.” His eyes quickly flashed towards Spills floating in the water.

I never should have told him.

“I’m fine.” His voice was clipped, he really didn’t need this right now and he hoped his tone was warning enough. Pope didn’t say anything but he had a feeling he’d hear about this later.

“I wanna ask her out.” Benny had sat down beside Frankie and was staring out at Spills.

“You should! You guys would look cute together, wouldn’t they babe? We could double date or something.” Claudia was happy at the prospect but Frankie's stomach dropped. He felt the anger crawling in his gut, tensing his muscles at the prospect of Benny with her.

This isn’t normal, I shouldn’t feel like this.

“I think you should, Benny.” Pope clapped him on the back. “Fish - I think you should put in a good word for our boy.” It was hard for Frankie not to lash out but why would he? He was engaged and Spills was free. What reason could he possibly have to not want this to happen?

There’s only one reason why, and I can’t fucking help it.

“Yeah of course. I’ll talk to her.” It took everything in him to keep his voice neutral.

“Only ask her out if you’re serious, don’t bother if you’re going to fuck around because that’s his friend, she’s not a random.” Will chimed in, ever the voice of reason and Frankie was thankful.

“I know that.” Benny smiled, and Frankie had to keep quiet.

----

Everything was quiet. Your ears were submerged as you floated peacefully in the water, eyes closed. The ocean always managed to make you feel safe despite its size. Maybe that was what appealed to you, it was so vast and unknowable, you could get lost in it.

You saw the shadow obscure the light despite having your eyes closed. Pope was in the water with you and you smiled at him. Of all the army friends Frankie had introduced you to, Pope was the most mysterious. He guarded his words and you had the sense that he knew way more than he let on.

“Did you have anything planned for the bachelor party yet?” His question dropped a boulder into your stomach.

Fuck, I forgot about that.

“Nope - hadn't even remembered until you said it. I have no idea how the hell to plan one.” Your eyes widened at the thought of it and he laughed, not unkindly.

“I figured, I can help you out. He’s a simple guy - but I'm guessing you already know that. I’m guessing you know much more about him than we do in a lot of respects.” He was smiling at you but there was something underneath his words, a tone you couldn’t discern.

“Probably - known him a long time.” It felt like you were under the microscope.

“Years worth of stuff that Claudia doesn’t even know.” His eyes were burning into you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was gauging your reaction.

“In all likelihood, but she’ll learn eventually I imagine.” Your voice sounded a lot calmer than you felt.

“Obviously no strip clubs, that’s not his thing. Just get all his friends together and get him drunk.” He was watching you closely but your eyes were focused on Frankie, he was laughing and happy - talking animatedly with Will about something and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I can see how much you love him.” Your eyes flashed towards him. “Like a brother, right?” He raised his eyebrows at you and you felt the colour drain from your face.

Am I that fucking obvious?

“Yeah… like a brother.” You were lying, even when you were younger you knew you’d always loved him, but it never felt brotherly. He knew. “See ya.” As much as you wanted to be in the water, you couldn't handle the scrutiny anymore and you made your way back to shore.

---

The rest of the day was spent mostly in your head, you tried to focus on the conversations you had. You tried to focus on the water and the sunshine but it seemed like Pope’s words and his implications followed you.

“You okay Spills? You’ve been distracted all day.” You’d been on the road for almost half an hour and you’d barely said anything.

“Yeah - sorry, just tired. Need a shower.” You smiled at him weakly.

“You sure? Seems like you have something else on your mind.” He glanced over to you and your heart swelled. His curls were defined from the salt water, his face was a little pink from the sun and he looked so warm and soft. You ran your fingers through his hair seemingly without thought. It was so soft and you had to fight the urge to keep touching it.

“I’m okay Francis - gotta plan your bachelor party.” You couldn’t keep the sadness out of your voice, hoping it came across as tired. You were both silent the whole ride home.

--------

You never would have thought it, but you were glad to be back at work. It was the one place that had no memory of Francis. You could come in, completely focus your energy and forget everything for most of the day. In all the time you worked there - you’d never been this productive but with the wedding slowly approaching, the anxiety was slowly creeping in.

Nowhere was safe now.

[unknown contact]: hey Spills! It’s Claudia - I got your number from Frankie. I was hoping you’d be able to come with me tomorrow to the bridal store. We have to make sure you match everyone on the big day!

Really fucking wish you wouldn’t call me that.

[you:] hey Claudia! Uh yeah sure what time?

[claudia😒]: great! Appointment is for 10am - I’ll send you the address, see you then! 🙂

[you]: sounds great - see you then!

Well that’s just great.

It had been a week since the beach trip and the peace couldn’t last.

—-

There was something about Claudia that got under your skin.

She’s marrying the love of your life, obviously she gets under your skin.

She was friendly enough, and she loved Francis - you could see that in her excitement; but there was something underneath. You got a sense that she was trying to pull a fast one on him.

“Spills, if Frankie and I move, would you come visit us? I think you’re holding him back a little bit.” She was standing as they made adjustments on the dress which thankfully had made it in time to be altered.

“What? What do you mean?” Where was this question coming from?

“Well, he wants to stay here. He wants to live close to his mom and you, but I’m trying to convince him to live back home with me. Maybe if you told him it would be okay and that you’d visit he’d give in.” Your blood was boiling. Give in? His wants and needs had to mean more to her than that?

I have to calm down, I’m overreacting.

“He already told you he doesn’t want to leave? Maybe you guys should compromise? Middle-ground?” You had to put your diplomatic hat on, couldn’t just tear into this girl. The logical part of your brain told you that this was normal - couples disagree about things all the time and it made sense that she’d want to be close to her family and her home.

“Yes he’s set in his ways. It’s frustrating.” She laughed lightly. “I just think that if you gave him your blessing he’d be more open to leaving with me.”

But you don’t have my blessing, I’m the wrong person to come to with this.

“I really think you should talk to him about this - he’s never been the kind of guy to be swayed. Won’t matter what I say.” You were being honest as well as telling her it wasn’t your problem in a roundabout way. She didn’t say anything else and you could tell she wasn’t happy with your answer. You left it alone.

---

You couldn’t put it off any more, as much as you were dreading this wedding you still had responsibilities as his best-person. You had to get everything together and throw this stupid fucking bachelor party.

You messaged all of the friends you knew he kept in touch with, telling them about the outing. They had things planned the whole week up until the wedding so it had to be the Friday before the wedding. Which means you had little less than a week to get it together.

[you]: Hey Francis - can you give me Popes number? Trying to plan your party!

[Francis]: Sure - sending it now. Hopefully it’s nothing too crazy?

[you]: Shit… you mean you don’t want your own parade? Should I cancel the army of exotic dancers?

[Francis]: You’re hilarious, honestly.

[you]: just taking you to a bar you fool, just want to coordinate with him because I don’t have everyone's contact info.

[Francis]: Sounds good, thanks for this - I never got a chance to ask but how did it go at the bridal store?

[you]: Went well

You thought about everything Claudia had said and debated on telling him. Would he want you to? Would she want you to? Somehow you didn’t think she’d be too happy unless you were on her side. Which you decidedly weren’t.

[you]: Think you should talk to her, she’s not happy with you wanting to stay here, after the wedding I mean. I support you whatever you decide but she seemed to think that you needed my blessing in order to leave with her. I told her she needed to talk to you - and I’m telling you the same thing.

Being honest and supportive was the best course of action and you hoped that neither of them (him more so than her) would be upset with how you went about it.

It worried you though when he didn’t answer and you had to trust that they would both understand that you didn’t actually want to influence anyones decision.

Liar, I want him to stay. Even if it’s not with me. I want him to stay.

You pushed the thought away and messaged Pope, the both of you came together and planned a dinner for everyone on the Friday before the wedding, which would turn into the bachelor party after. In five days, he’d be married and if Claudia got her way - far far away from you.

------

Tag list: @frannyzooey @foli-vora @danniburgh @sambucky21 @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @wheresarizona @sherala007 @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @gaiuswrites @stevie75 @sweet-creature98 @readsalot73 @tobealostwanderer @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @bellaorisa @hellovanessax @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @mrs-ghuleh @pedritoispunk @librariantothejedi @studythoreauly

[fratboykate]

In my headcanon of KYFBAU every now and again Yelena and Melina go to conferences or travel FOR SCIENCE. And for UNEXPLAINABLE reasons Frat Kate and Alexei go off on the most ridiculous ‘adventures’. And only THEY call them adventures, everyone else is like ‘this was an insane disaster, a borderline diplomatic incident, possibly a war crime’ and the two idiot meat-heads just high five each other like ‘Yeah it was’. And Yelena refuses to ask how ‘got the wrong bus’ ends up in a jail in Canada.

"We're going to a conference at the end of the month."

"YES!"

"Okay, that was A LITTLE too much excitement?"

They reel it back in and fake being upset.

"Nooooo! Not a conference!"

"Boooo! Weekend alone sounds awfu!"

"Good. That was better. Because we are taking you with us."

"WHY?!"

"Every time we leave you by yourselves An Incident happens."

"This is not truth. No 'incident' happens."

"You were in a boot for six weeks after we went to Seattle."

"No bones were broken. It was fine. I just had to sit out a couple games."

"We have to redo back porch steps after we go to Sacramento because SOMEHOW a barrel goes through them."

"We fix in two weeks. You make big deal out of nothing."

"Need I mention the time you called us from CANADIAN JAIL?!"

"We may or may not be barred from ever going back again BUT...who really wants to go to Canada anyway?"

"You also still haven't told us how one of the pigs ended up with "BABE" shaved on its side when we went to St. Louis last month."

"Best if you do not know."

"Right. So you're coming with us this time. Cheaper than potential doctor's bills, contractors, lawyers, or hiring a round the clock babysitter."

"I have a paper due around that time."

Kate is trying her best to get them out of this.

"Great! Bring your books. That'll keep you busy. Perfect."

"Where is conference?"

"Las Vegas."

"VEGAAAAAASSSSSSSS!"

"VEGAASSSSSSS!"

Kate chants and Alexei echoes.

"Nope. No. No 'VEGAS!'. You guys are going to sit by the pool and act like adults for eight hours a day. You're going to do this for two days while we go to our sessions. We're going to have a couple of nice, non-eventful evenings together, maybe see some shows then we're going to come back home. Understood?"

Kate and Alexei look at each other then Kate turns to her girlfriend and paints a smile on her face.

"Sounds like a solid, respectable plan."

Yelena and Melina turn around to talk to each other. Kate and Alexei take this as an opportunity to quietly mouth 'VEGAAAASSSSS!' to each other and fist bump.

Chaos. Chaos is about to ensue.

They get to Vegas and the moment they're unsupervised on that first day, Kate and Alexei leave their sole approved area which was the pool + adjacent restaurant lol. By hour six they're in jail. But at least they're responsible enough to wait until they know their baes are out of the conference to make their phone calls to come get them out. Wouldn't want to disturb them when they're busy, y'know?

Yelena and Melina after bailing them out: 😡"WHAT DID WE SAY?!"😡

The DMTs (Dumbdumb Mayhem Twins) across from them: 😇😬🥺"SEE...THE THING IS..."🥺😬😇

[diningwiththeasquiths]

Wrote more Kylo Amidala, yay! ❤

Another Kylux ficlet

Supreme Leader Armitage Hux of the First Order is paying a diplomatic visit to Naboo; one of the many planets aligned with their cause.

Prince Kylo Amidala is there to welcome him with a lavish banquet. Almost as lavish as the way he has dressed himself today.

Hux has always found the golden epaulettes of his own black uniform to be quite ostentatious. But not this evening, not in comparison.

The Prince has outdone himself on this occasion. His black, gold and red gown is made of a fabric so delicate it seems to flow around him like water. At the same time, it clings to him in all the right places. The barest hint of cleavage shows through the draped cloth. Hux quickly corrects himself when he finds himself staring too hard at that particular, enticing spot. Prince Amidala's dark hair is adorned with a golden headpiece, probably costing more than the luxury shuttle Hux came down in. The ornaments of the headpiece create soft, soothing sounds whenever the Prince moves his head. And his striking face is painted, as always.

Sharing a meal together, the Prince explains, will strengthen their alliance even further. It is a way for them to become acquainted on a deeper and more personal level.

They are seated next to each other at the head of the table as a sign of trust and respect. Prince Amidala explains every course and wine to Hux in great detail: The five-blossom bread was one of his grandmother's favourite foods. The wine is made by distilling natural essences of different flowers. While talking he gestures with his big, jewelry-adorned hands.

"What about these?" Hux asks, pointing to the sardine fritters. He recognises them from his own home planet, a very long time ago.

"Do you like them? There is no special story behind them, but I will make sure my cooks fry up an extra batch for you to take with you on the day of your departure."

"That's very kind of you, Your Highness."

At long last dessert arrives. It's an assortment of fruits. Prince Amidala immediately grabs a large red berry with a green stem from an ornate bowl—one of the many bowls on the large table, all with different colours and textures—and holds it up in front of Hux.

"You must try this, Supreme Leader, it's the most exquisite fruit our planet has to offer."

When Hux tries to take it from him, the Prince pulls back and tuts.

"It's a Naboo custom that these fruits can only be eaten from someone else's hand."

Hux frowns, but a quick glance around the table shows other Royal Naboo doing the exact same thing.

And he does not want to insult the Prince. It would be foolish to start a disagreement over something as trivial as this.

"Very well."

He leans in. It feels very unnatural to him. To his mortification can feel his cheeks heating up, probably turning an awful pink, when Kylo presses the dewy berry against his lips. He can probably pass it off as a flush from the wine, or so he hopes.

Quickly biting off a piece, he starts to chew, and the first thing he notices is how juicy it is, before an explosion of taste invades his mouth. It's sweet and tart at the same time.

"It's good, isn't it?" Prince Amidala says, perceptive as always.

Hux swallows before answering: "Yes. The taste is quite remarkable. Thank you."

The Prince is still holding up the other half of the fruit between three fingers—which are adorned with intricate looking rings and blood red nail polish. "Have another bite." His kohl-rimmed eyes are crinkled in delight.

Hux has no choice but to lean in again and again as the bowl gets emptier. When the berries are halfway gone, the Prince lets his hand rest on the table and looks at him in expectation.

Hesitating only for a moment, Hux picks up one of the berries and turns it the right way round between his slender, gloved fingers. He then holds it out like an offering. Prince Amidala gracefully bends towards him, headpiece tinkling softly, and catches Hux's eyes as he puts his painted lips around the fruit. Time seems to stop for a few moments. Then, the Prince slowly bites down and pulls away, his lips pouting almost obscenely as they drag over the shape of the fruit.

The huge dining hall feels a couple of degrees hotter after that. Hux resists the urge to loosen the top button of his meticulous uniform.

Kylo Amidala is secretly thrilled. This is going even better than he had hoped for. It won't be long before he has this man wrapped around his finger. He already has him eating out of his hand, after all.

He wonders when it will be a good time to confess there is no fruit feeding custom on Naboo. And that he merely instructed his subjects to do so as part of his plan of seduction.

Perhaps in a few months time he will come clean about it. By then, he reckons, they will be engaged to be wed. After all, isn't that the ultimate way to strengthen their alliance?

Supreme Leader Hux will get himself a trophy husband from a politically important planet and he... he will get more power than anyone in his family has ever possessed.

[stitch1830]

Do you maybe have some fluffy post-canon Zutara headcanons? :3

Hello there! Of course I have fluffy post-canon Zutara headcanons! Only fitting during Zutara week since I totally dropped the ball on this one lmao. Not sure how soon after you want me to go post-canon, so I went with a bit of a mix. :)

For Zuko's recovery after getting hit with lightning (I'm imagining it takes a bit to recover because like... he got hit with lightning), he asks if Katara will help him walk through some of the FN gardens and feed the turtleducks. Gets him out of the room and has him doing something cute and fun with Katara.

Whenever Katara stays at the Fire Nation, Zuko notices that when she focuses on a project, she has a very distinct and determined face when she works. It never fails to make him smile (it rarely gets noticed by Katara).

They often try to make up excuses to try and spend time together, and one of the things Katara asks Zuko is if he could teach her how to brew tea like Iroh (it's definitely not like Iroh's tea, but shhh Zuko doesn't need to know that).

Zuko and Katara seem like the couple that hold hands a lot to me. Both when they're just close friends and then when they're together.

Whenever Zuko sees or hears something fun or exciting, the first person he tells is Katara. Katara does the same thing.

Katara gets stressed/annoyed with the people she works with easy, and often Zuko offers to give her a massage, or at the very least, a nice pot of tea. Katara will do the same for Zuko.

They both have pretty bad nightmares, but once they start dating and sleep in the same room, the nightmares aren't as bad as they used to be.

Zuko has super soft hair, and Katara loves running her fingers through his hair, especially when it gets long.

As long as both their schedules allow, they go on their diplomatic trips together.

After Zuko and Katara have been dating for a few years, Zuko obviously decides to propose, but he's a bit of a nervous wreck. After a few practice rounds with a badgerfrog and a couple stutters here and there, he finally spits out his proposal, either at the SWT or if they can't be at home, then under a full moon.

I think those are a good starting point haha! Thank you so much for the ask! Happy to give some more if you want. Just say the word! Until then, hope you have a great day! :)

......

Send me asks about ATLA, or anything, really! :D

[kanerallels]

OKAY OKAY ROUND TWO OF THIS! Kanera fix it or Kanera and waffles! Whichever works <3

*has no self control* *writes my first fix it* This was hecking fun! I hope you enjoyed it!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 2,455

Tags/Warning: rated T (for time travel! *insert Hulk gif here*) and also near death

This wasn’t how Kanan wanted things to end.

He'd wanted more time. He'd wanted to explain things to Hera, to tell her how much she meant to him.

But things had moved too fast for him. Kanan was too late.

He felt the heat of the fire from the fuel pod singing the tips of his fingers, and concentrated on pushing it back with all his strength, his hands shaking slightly and his face twisting with the effort. The fire billowed high above him, but Kanan wasn’t afraid. Just full of regrets.

Behind him, he heard Hera scream his name, her voice full of raw desperation and fear. Kanan knew, without even needing to look, that she would run towards him and she did, her steps barely audible above the roar of the flames.

Turning without looking, Kanan diverted part of his concentration and caught her in her steps, holding her back with the Force. He felt her struggle against the grip, panic and fear pulsing through her.

Slowly, on some instinct he didn’t understand, he turned to face Hera. Maybe it was because of how much he ached to see her. Maybe it was to give her one last glimpse of him. Kanan sensed her desperation, her fear, how much she wanted to reach him.

But he couldn’t let her. There was too much at stake. So with a quick thrust, he sent her flying back to where Ezra was waiting, ready. His apprentice caught hold of her, holding her back. Kanan felt a flicker of gratitude-- he could always count on Ezra.

An odd tingling sensation swept across his eyes, and for a moment he thought he was crying. But crying had been impossible ever since Malachor. Since he’d been blinded.

Even as he thought the word, it was like a cloud was swept away from his eyes, and he could see. Kanan had no idea how, but he accepted it calmly, as he’d accepted his fate.

His gaze locked onto Hera first-- Hera, clad in an orange prisoner’s jumpsuit, a look of complete horror and fear in her eyes, with the slightest hint of surprise and awe as she looked at him. Kanan took her in, drinking in the very sight of her. She was older than she had been when they’d first met, and had only grown more beautiful. And Kanan had only grown more in love with her.

Behind her, holding her back, was Ezra-- Force, Ezra. He was so tall, so grown-up looking. Kanan was well aware he’d only ever pictured the little boy from Lothal, and he felt pride stirring in his heart. Stay safe, kid, he thought. You know what to do. I love you both.

And so he released his hold on the flames and used all his power and strength to send the ship that held Ezra, Sabine, and Hera flying away from the fuel depot. It would be enough. It had to be enough.

They would be safe. And they would keep fighting. Hera always did.

That was Kanan’s last thought before the flames swallowed him.

But it wasn’t his last thought.

Even as the fire swirled around him, he heard a strange whoosh, and the sound of boots impacting on metal, and suddenly the fire was gone. And Kanan was somewhere else entirely.

“Did it work?”

A young male voice came from behind Kanan, stunned but excited.

“Of course it worked, idiot, he’s not dead and we still exist,” said a dry female voice that sounded… bizarrely familiar. Almost like--

Kanan turned towards the sound and someone tackled him to the ground, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, sorry-- eyes closed,” the young man ordered. “If you look, I’ll tell Hera.”

“What does that even mean?” Kanan demanded-- although it was a fairly compelling argument. Trying to shove the young man off of him, he said “Who are you? What are you doing?”

“Saving you, you dumb--”

The young man cleared his throat loudly, cutting off the woman. “We were sent here to save your life.”

“What?” Kanan’s jaw dropped, surprise flashing through him. “Wha-- no, I was supposed to die. It had to happen, to save Hera and Ezra and Sabine--”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the woman said, “They’re FINE, trust me. Well, other than the fact they think you’re dead.”

The young man groaned. “Okay, you should probably stop talking now. I’ll handle this.”

“You’re not much more diplomatic than me!”

“Everyone’s more diplomatic than you, Depa.”

“Depa?” Kanan asked, a frown knitting his forehead.

He heard his two rescuers freeze, and a muttered curse. “Yeah,” the young man said cautiously. “That’s her name.”

“That was my master’s name,” Kanan said, his mind racing. There was no way that could be a coincidence. Sure, there were probably other people in the galaxy named Depa, but--

“You can probably stop sitting on him-- he’ll behave,” Depa said dryly. “Right, Jarrus? That means keep your eyes close, and NO PEEKING or I’ll punch you out.”

“You can’t punch him out,” the young man said with a sigh.

“Why, because he’s an old geezer? I’m not afraid to hit an old man.”

Kanan sensed the young man rolling his eyes. “He’s not even that old right now! Okay, I’m gonna let you up-- please keep your eyes closed.”

The young man scrambled off of him, and Kanan slowly rose to his feet, wincing. He’d been burned, he could feel that much-- his hands, the back of his neck and his face especially. But somehow, impossibly, he was alive.

“I-- thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how or why you saved me, but thank you.”

“Someone had to,” Depa said, her voice surprisingly sincere. “And Force knows you needed help.”

“True,” the young man agreed. “But we don’t have all day here-- we need to get you back.”

“Back?” Kanan asked.

“Back to Hera and everyone else,” the young man elaborated. “If you follow us, we can get you out of here and back to them. They should be expecting you. Hopefully. We’re pretty sure Ezra warned them.”

“Reassuring,” Kanan said, keeping his eyes shut. “Which way are we going? And where are we, exactly?”

“This way,” Depa said, giving his shoulder a slight nudge in the right direction. As Kanan started walking, she added, “And we’re in some dumb alternate dimension.”

“It’s a world between worlds,” the young man corrected from ahead of them. “And it was really hard to get here. You wouldn’t believe all the stuff we had to do to get here. But it led us to where you were, which makes it worth it.”

“Why?” Kanan asked, releasing the question he’d been turning over in his mind. “Why did you come to save me? Why you in particular?”

He heard the young man’s footsteps stutter, like he’d paused in his steps. “Oh. Um…”

“Subtle, Jacen,” Depa said sarcastically.

“Jacen?” Kanan felt a grin cross his face. “So that’s your name.”

Jacen let out a sigh. “Nice one, Depa. Look, D-- Kanan. You’re… really important. To a lot of people. And they couldn’t just lose you if there was something that could be done.”

“So we did it,” Depa said matter of factly. “As you do. Oh, we’re here! This is your stop.”

They came to a halt, and Kanan sensed… something. Like a light at the end of a hallway, beckoning him forward. “And this is where I’m supposed to go?” he said warily. “It’s safe?”

“Trust me,” Jacen said. “She’s on the other side. Hera is. Your family is waiting for you.”

Kanan nodded slowly, his mind spinning. Despite the obvious strangeness of this whole thing, the way it had caught him off guard, there were a few things that he had a strange feeling about. Like he was two steps away from putting something together, something incredibly important. “Wait-- before I go through there. Will I be able to see?”

“I-- oh. No,” Depa said, her voice soft, almost shaken. “You never could after Lothal. That was the last time.”

“Then I at least want to see the faces of the pair that saved my life,” Kanan said. “If you’re alright with it.”

“I’m not sure--” Jacen began.

“Oh, shut up and let him,” Depa said, her voice exasperated. “What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, I-- I want him to.”

There was a short pause, then Jacen sighed. “I know. Me, too. Okay, go ahead.”

Kanan’s eyes flicked open. He was in what looked like outer space-- pure black, only broken up by strange white lines outlining paths. And, every now and then, circular doorways. “Huh,” Kanan murmured, his gaze sweeping across the place. And then it landed on the duo standing in front of him, and his eyes widened in surprise.

They were both a couple years younger than him. Jacen was a tall young man, tan-skinned except where it was green, especially along his pointed ears. His long hair, tied back in a ponytail, and scruffy goatee were a deep shade of green, and his eyes were almost an almost disturbingly familiar shade of turquoise.

Depa was a young Twi’lek woman with green skin, pink patches here and there. Her eyes were brown, and widened slightly with shock as they met his. “He really does have your eyes,” she said, her voice stunned.

“Wow,” Kanan breathed, any doubt in his mind swept away. “Are-- are you two-- Wow. Words fail me.”

Depa let out a snort. “Same here. But about that haircut. Mom was right, it really is awful. Worse than the one Jacen gave himself when he was eleven. It was really bad, be glad you didn’t see it.”

Kanan chuckled, then glanced at Jacen. “I-- and you two came here to save me?”

Jacen shrugged. “We wouldn’t exist if we didn’t. Well, I would, but Depa wouldn’t, and that’s a downside. Kinda.”

Depa punched him in the arm, and Jacen let out a yelp, darting away from her as she took another swing at him, and Kanan could only shake his head because of what he was watching. “This is unbelievable.”

“I mean. Not that unbelievable,” Jacen pointed out, a smile crossing his face that Kanan had seen a thousand times in the seat next to his own.

“Wow. You look… just like your mom. Both of you.”

Jacen’s eyes went wide. “R-really? Um. Everyone says I look like… you.”

“That is Hera Syndulla’s smile right there,” Kanan said, and he knew it to his core. “Looks just like hers. But yeah, I can see our resemblance. Well. For now.”

The smile faded off of Jacen’s face, and he said in a low voice, “We can’t stay.”

Nodding, Kanan said, “I know. I should probably get going, too. Just--” he paused, looking at his children for the last time. “I’m proud of you two already.”

“That is so typical of you,” Depa said, rolling her eyes in a completely Hera movement. “Do you have any idea how many kids you’re gonna adopt? Hint-- it’s a lot.”

“No spoilers,” Jacen ordered. “We should go. But before we do--” he turned to Kanan. “When the time comes, tell Ezra that he doesn’t have to be you. He has to be him, and no one else.”

“Oh, and don’t worry,” Depa said breezily. “You’ll find him eventually.”

“Wait, what? What does that mean?” Kanan demanded.

“You’re about to find out,” Depa said with a wink, and that, Kanan knew, she’d gotten from him.

Leaning forward, Jacen said, “She’s your most infuriating child. Yes, more so than the Mandalorian.”

Kanan shook his head, grinning. “I can’t wait for you two to come along. I really can’t.”

Shrugging, Depa said, “You might not have to wait that long. Now get out of here, we’ve all got places to be.”

“Right.” Kanan turned towards the doorway, which was a blank white, and glanced back at his kids one more time. “May the Force be with you,” he told them.

“You always say that,” Jacen said with a slight grin. “See you soon, Dad.”

Kanan nodded, then stepped through the doorway.

Everything was dark as he stumbled out into what was some kind of clearing, or something. But he felt the sunlight on his face, and knew why it was. His eyesight was gone again, and he was okay with that.

A shriek cut through his thoughts, and he jerked his head up as someone shouted his name. “Kanan!”

It was Hera, her voice holding shock and joy and love, and Kanan heard her run towards him. But this time, he was running, too, and felt her slam into him. “You’re here,” she choked out, a sob shaking her body. “Ezra was right. I didn’t think--”

Kanan cut her off with a kiss, pulling her closer as she kissed him back. Breaking away from the kiss, he whispered, “I love you, too.”

Hera let out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words, love.”

“I-- wait.” Kanan froze. “How long was I gone? How long since the fuel depot?” Panic raced through him.

“Only three months,” Hera assured him, clearly catching his fear. “You’ve missed a lot. There’s some things we should talk about.”

“I bet,” Kanan muttered. “Okay, let’s go talk.”

Hera stepped away from him, but caught hold of his hand so she could lead him. “Right this way, dear.”

Kanan relished the sound of her voice as he walked with her, willing to wait through whatever they had to talk about next.

Well. Almost willing. “There’s… one thing that I have to ask you,” he said. “There was this weird thing that happened while I was gone-- it’s a long story. But something that happened made me think-- it might be stupid, but I just need to ask--”

Cutting him off, Hera said, “Just ask, love.”

“Right.” Taking a quick breath, Kanan asked, “Are you… pregnant?”

He felt her stop in her tracks, shock radiating through her. “I--” Hera paused, then let out a sigh. “I was planning on telling you myself, you know. Not sure I should be thanking your Jedi instincts on this one. But… yes. I’m pregnant.”

Holy. Kriff. “I’m gonna be a dad,” Kanan whispered, the words surreal but beautiful. They were real. I actually saw my kids. Which means-- Jacen.

A smile slipping across his face, he bent down and kissed Hera again. He knew things had to have changed, and he had a lot to catch up on. But he was with the woman he loved, and he had a lifetime to look forward to. They could handle it together.

[ackerslut]

I hear you like prompts? Well I am well known for. The List. *unrolls scroll* sick fic, jealousy, fighting suitors, hostage situation, hypothermia, use of safe word, spa day, ruddiger v Hugo

AO3

It’s midday by the time Hugo finally deems his companions worthy of his company.

They’ve been staying at a small estate in Galcrest, with some friends of Nuru’s family who were kind enough to put them up for the weekend.

The last few trials have been grueling--if Varian’s being completely honest--what with the cave of mirrors and the hall of memories haunting Nuru’s nights and Yong’s smiles and Varian’s everything. So a break in what their gang was affectionately nicknaming “the air kingdom” seemed in order.

The first few days go by fine--Nuru drags Hugo out to the marketplace, talking shop about swords and armory to her heart's content, while Varian and Yong scour the countryside and set off fireworks in the clear skies.

It’s exactly what their group needs to get back on track--a little rest and a lot of free time to relax and get to know one another better.

Then Hugo shows up for breakfast one morning and all of Varians’ optimism flies out the window.

“Whoa, are you sick?” Yong says, popping his head out of the pantry. “You look terrible.”

Hugo sends him an irritated glance. “No,” he says and then immediately sneezes. “I’m not sick,” he says, peevishly when they all continue staring at him in silence. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks.

Nuru places a hand on his flushed forehead that he immediately swats off. “You’re burning up,” she says with a frown. “Did you leave your window open last night?”

“More likely that he got it from town,” Varian mutters. He seems to remember a kindly merchant lamenting about his daughter coming down with a spring cold. Dammit Hugo.

“I’m going to heat up some soup,” Yong says decisively, already making a bee-line for the cupboards.

“I don’t need soup.” Hugo literally cannot sound any more like a sulky pre-teen right now. “What I need is for you all to stop ganging up on me.”

“What you need is a doctor,” Nuru mutters.

Hugo turns his scowl on her.

“How about this,” Varian says, once again playing diplomat between his two best friends, “Hugo eats the soup, and Nuru doesn’t make him see a doctor.

Hugo and Nuru continue to eye each other for a moment before Hugo mutters out an annoyed “fine.”

Varian has a feeling that today is going to be an exercise in not dumping his best friends.

____

About three hours into the “Hugo is pretending that he’s not sick” fiasco, Nuru has decided she’s had enough.

“I’m taking Yong to town,” she says, wrapping a scarf around the younger boy. “If the idiot won’t see a doctor, than I’m at least going to get him some medicine.”

Varian, who was the person who had to deal with Hugo throwing up in the bathroom half the afternoon, privately agrees.

“Is there anything I should do?” he asks, not exactly sure what to do with sick people. His dad never got sick and Rapunzel had about a million physicians taking care of her whenever she contracted some illness or another.

“Try and keep him in bed. I also left some tea leaves in the kitchen, if he feels up to drinking anything.” Nuru adds, halfway out the door. “I know you want to kill him most of the time, but it would be most inconvenient to hide his body.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “I’ll do my best,” he says, dryly.

He doesn’t actually plan to antagonize Hugo--let alone kill him. Despite the fact that the blond still manages to annoy him on a daily basis, he’s also kinda friends with the guy now.

They’ve fallen into an easy companionship with mutual banter and annoyed antics that usually have their friends up in arms, but it works for them.

Besides, the guy just looked far too pathetic, dry heaving in the sink this morning, to give him a hard time.

A few minutes after Nuru and Yong leave, Varian makes his way to the room Hugo is staying in. At first glance, the place appears empty--bed unmade, small sitting area absent of life--but after a quick scan of the large room, Varian finds him.

Hugo sits on the window seat. His legs are drawn up under him and his head rests against the wall. The breeze filtering through the open window brushes his hair back from his forehead and makes the open collar of his white, unbuttoned shirt, fluttering slightly.

Something about the sight of him--flushed, exhausted, unguarded--twists something in Varian’s stomach.

“Hey,” he says, voice cracking too loudly in the quiet.

Hugo doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulder inch up slightly. “Hey,” he says back, eyes glued to something outside the window.

Varians’ eyes narrow in on the gooseflesh raised on the skin of his neck. With a sigh, he snatches a blanket off the bed and goes to Hugo, draping it over his shoulders.

Hugo turns his head at that, blinking up at him owlishly through round glasses. “Oh,” he says, like he’s just noticing Varian’s here. Which is concerning. “Thanks.”

Varian shrugs a shoulder, throwing himself on the other side of the window seat. It’s a large enough space--or maybe Varian’s just short--for the two of them to sit without touching. Not that Varian’s thinking of touching him.

An uneasy silence--on Varian’s part, at least--falls over them as Hugo continues to stare blankly out the window. His usually brilliant green eyes are glazed over, enhancing the flush that’s spread from his face, down his to his neck.

He sniffs a couple of times, nose wrinkling.

“Nuru wants you to drink some tea, I think,” Varian says, tapping his fingers against his knee nervously. “I can go get some for you if you wa-”

“It’s fine.” Hugo’s voice carries no intonation. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Varian says, in a very measured voice. The last thing he wants to do is upset the guy right now.

Hugo’s eyes shut. His lips press together tightly, but not out of anger. He looks like he’s just barely holding it together, and Varian doesn’t understand why.

Or, maybe he does. Varian used to be very open and free with his emotions, but over the past few years--since everything in Corona with his dad, the amber, Cass--Varian has gotten used to putting up shields around his heart. Vulnerability was a very scary thing, especially with those you cared about.

Hugo didn’t seem to be the type of person who liked to show weakness.

A particularly chilling breeze brushes through the window. It’s enough that even Varian is shivering at it’s touch.

He reaches out slowly and gently pulls the blanket around Hugo tighter. Hugo’s eyes open at that, watching Varian with an unreadable emotion.

“I think you should lie down,” Varian says.

Hugo shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Hugo-”

“The bed’s too soft,” Hugo exhales, sounding embarrassed.

Something in Varian’s stomach twists painfully. The year after prison hadn’t been easy, but most of it was just getting used to being able to walk around without having the entirety of Corona’s military breathing down your neck. The other half was getting used to how soft his threadbare bed in Olde Corona felt.

Varian gets it. He doesn’t know Hugo’s story yet, but he gets it.

“Lie down here then,” he coaxes, one hand coming up to cup his neck. It’s warm--too warm. The worry simmering in Varian’s gut flares.

“What, on you?” Hugo snorts, sounding--if for a moment--a bit like himself.

Varian feels his own face flush about as badly as Hugo’s face is right now. “Would it make you feel more comfortable?” he asks, voice pitching up high.

Hugo’s stares at him hazily, the fever most likely getting in the way of his higher processing powers. “Yeah,” he says, looking not quite all there. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

And then he flops face first into Varian’s lap.

Varian lets out a surprised laugh, one hand going to his hair. “Okay then,” he says, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“Mmphf.”

Varian snorts, coaxing Hugo into rolling over so that he can at least breathe. “Why do I put up with you?” he mutters, more amused than exasperated for once.

Hugo blinks a couple of times at him. “It’s weird,” he says at last. “You’re weird. I’ve never had someone who’s wanted to put up with me before.”

Varian’s hopes Hugo can’t tell his heart just shattered into about a million pieces. “Well, you do now,” he says, easing Hugo’s glasses off his face and delicately placing them on the nearby end table. “You have three people, in fact, who are willing to put up with your dumb ass.”

The blond squints up at him. “But you were first. That’s-” he gestures gracelessly with one hand, “-that’s important.”

Varian smooths his hair back from his forehead, mentally taking note of the amount of heat coming off his flushed skin. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” Hugo’s eyes close. “You keep doing that. Surprising me.”

“Well someone has to knock your ego down a few notches.”

A ghost of a grin. His eyes open again, almost as if he’s worried Varian has left in the few seconds he stopped looking.

“Hugo, go to sleep,” Varian chides. He runs his fingers through Hugo’s hair again, hoping it will draw him into sleep. “I can continue to surprise you tomorrow.”

“You’re surprising me now,” Hugo mumbles, but he’s becoming more and more pliant with each pet of Varian’s fingers through his hair. “Don’t go anywhere, ‘kay?”

Varian swallows. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “Now go to sleep.”

Hugo’s eyes finally drop shut, breath evening out. Varian leans back against the wall, one hand in the blond’s hair. The weight of the other boy is both grounding and sends strange flutterings to Varian’s stomach that he doesn’t understand.

Hugo lets out a small snore in his sleep. It’s adorable. Hugo’s adorable, Varian realizes, much to his horror.

Another breezes brushes in through the window, setting the white, transparent curtains afloat in the air. Hugo shivers slightly, curling up closer around Varian.

His face is pressed somewhere between his thigh and stomach, one arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Varian runs his fingers through Hugo’s soft hair again and comes to two realizations simultaneously.

Varian has feelings for Hugo. Positive feelings. Fluffy, mushy, fluttering feelings that reside somewhere between his aching heart and the butterflies in his stomach and Varian wants to cry or throw up or maybe kiss the dumb blond until those feelings settle themselves.

Hugo might--a very, very tentative might, because Varian isn’t great at reading other people at the best of times--just might have feelings for Varian. Maybe.

That’s important, he had said, eyes glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted. You keep doing that. Surprising me.

Varian shuts his eyes. Yeah, he’s totally and utterly fucked.

[beyondthecosmicvoid]

We are as much to blame as the monsters we create

“Godzilla is the son of the atomic bomb. He is a nightmare created out of the darkness of the human soul. He is the sacred beast of the apocalypse.” - Producer Tomoyuki Tanaka of the original Godzilla (1954)

Much as I am looking forward to Godzilla vs Kong (2021) and have enjoyed Lengedary’s Monsterverse; I miss the original concept of the 1954 film where Gojira was the villain. And while GvK might be trying something similar with Mecha Godzilla, it is not the same.

The video link at the end of this post shows why Shin Godzilla is not only a homage to the original Godzilla film but an attempt to bring the monster back to its true nature by reminding us who’s to blame for his emergence.

The answer to this cannot be more obvious (in both films). We released Frankenstein’s monster into the world and, as the Japanese-American diplomat explains in Shin Godzilla, now we are going to have to learn to live with it.

Yet, in spite of neutralizing the threat, the danger will remain. The first film ends with Godzilla being killed by the oxygen destroyer, but both of the actors and us, the audience, know that something will remain and one day it will emergence to continue to wreak havoc on humanity.

The closest thing that American cinemas have come to make Godzilla a villain was in the 1998 film, also named Godzilla. In there, Godzilla is as the original film’s producer remarked, “the son of the atomic bomb”. But, albeit entertaining, the cheap laughs, adventurous car chases and pointless melodrama from the central couple, the film still lacked that nightmarish and apocalyptic atmosphere of the original. Not to mention that at times the film mirrored more closely Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (which served as an inspiration to Godzilla). Some fans have pointed out that it would have been better if it not banked on the Godzilla named and simply been advertised as a remake of the American black and white creature film from 1953. But it was what it was, and over a decade after its release, it has become integrated in some of the Gojira canon by being a separate kaiju (monster), renamed Zilla.

Shin Godzilla could have spanned a series of sequels that brought back the nightmare seen in the original film, which could have evolved to the monster becoming something else. The after credits scene showed humanoid reptilian creatures emerging from its tail. With the creature ever changing, this could have been the beginning of new nightmares or new kaijus.

But it was not to be.

As audiences continue to be fascinated with monstrous creatures and filmmakers are pushed by the deconstruction or revisionist trend, it is safe to say that Godzilla being seen as a protector rather than a menace or an outright threat, is something that will hardly ever be (successfully) explored (again).

A shame since Shin Godzilla is to this day the most terrifying kaiju seen on screen. Second most terrifying would be King Ghidorah from the last film in the Godzilla anime trilogy. Depicted as a cosmic horror entity, that kaiju was practically indestructible. Yet, Shin Godzilla still wins this round because of how it came about. The original Godzilla was not created by the atomic bomb. It was an ancient creature that had been dormant for millions of years. But the atomic bomb did awaken it, mutating it into something worse. As a result, Godzilla came to represent atomic. He is there to exact retribution for upsetting the natural order and as a result, he will keep coming back. Shin Godzilla takes a similar approach with considerable differences. For one, this kaiju is not an ancient dinosaur mutated by atomic energy but rather a series of microorganisms that have mutated through time because of nuclear waste and pollution. He represents our hubris. He is the price we have to pay for thinking we could get away with wasting and altering resources for as long as we’d like, and ignoring the warning of those who knew better.

And the creature itself is more hideous than other Godzillas, or other kaijus for that matter. It is a freak of nature – our freak of nature. If he were pitted against any of the other kaijus, including those from the Legendary monsterverse, he’d win against almost all of them. If we thought King Ghidorah looked terrifying in Godzilla King of the Monsters, Shin Godzilla would probably put that three-headed space dragon without going full nuclear.

(video) Why Shin Godzilla won best picture in Japan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEJoHs4FbFQ

[uchihasakurawrites]

A Lesson in Practicality (1)

Rating: T for language & depictions of violence

Summary: It takes a near-death experience in Yukigakure for Sakura to realize that Sasuke has her back in more ways than one.

Word Count: 3,154

A/N: This idea was going to be a short drabble, but the storyline ended up going in a direction that I didn’t initially plan for. There will be a Part Two (of 2). Part One has more implied SasuSaku - Sasuke will play a much more significant role in the next part! There’s a very high chance that this is going to be a prequel for the longer SasuSaku fic I’m currently working on. 

Let me know what you think, please!! Thank you to everyone who has left feedback on my work thus far~ 

Cross-posted on AO3 and Fanfiction

______________________________________________   

Sakura had heard enough stories from her fellow kunoichi about birthday gifts from their boyfriends to know that Sasuke’s definition of a gift was unique, to say the least.

Sai’s most recent gift to Ino was simple - a modest bouquet of flowers, carefully cultivated to convey a special message, a basket of cherry tomatoes from his personal garden, and a painting of the two of them on what Ino later told Sakura was their engagement day. Naruto once took Hinata on a two-week getaway to the hot spring resorts of Yugakure for her first birthday after they became official (though Hinata later let it slip that Naruto hadn’t informed Hiashi of their vacation and was subsequently banned from the Hyuuga compound for the foreseeable future). Chouji hosted a surprise birthday party for Karui just a few months after she migrated to Konoha, complete with her closest friends from Kumogakure and a home-cooked buffet. Even Shikamaru had stepped up his game with a private couple’s cooking class at Amaguriama, knowing that Temari would punt him to Suna if he showed up with just the personalized shogi piece he had originally planned on giving to her.

Temari had still barely let him escape, fully aware that Shikamaru had organized the class in hopes of never having to go out of his way to buy her favorite sweets again if she could just make them herself. Watching him burn three batches of roasted chestnuts was enough of a gift in itself.

Sasuke hadn’t been in the village for any of Sakura’s birthdays since before his defection back in their genin days. Even then, she couldn’t remember him going out of his way to give her a gift beyond grumbling out a low “Happy Birthday” if team training happened to coincide with her birthday.

To say that Sakura was shocked when she awoke to the tap tap tap of a messenger bird at her window before dawn on her nineteenth birthday was an understatement. Her grumbles at being awakened at such an hour on a day Ino had explicitly banned Sakura from working stopped the second she recognized the bird as Sasuke’s hawk. After fumbling with the latch on her window for a moment - she swore that the hawk gave her some serious side-eye when it took her three tries to get the latch to unstick - she held out her wrist for the bird. It left in the next breath, right after Sakura untied the scroll it was carrying. Sakura frowned at the hawk’s manners as she hadn’t even gotten to send a reply but realized she shouldn’t expect much. Of course Sasuke’s summons would take on his taciturn attitude.

The note tied to the scroll was simple: A last resort.

Huffing a laugh at the note, which was so very Sasuke, Sakura made quick work of the scroll’s seal. She immediately recognized the script as a summoning scroll, though she couldn’t parse out exactly what the summons was. Most likely one of Sasuke’s if he had sent it to her - a hawk or a snake. She sincerely hoped for the former.

Her first Chunin exams had effectively wrecked snakes for her.

Sakura resealed the scroll with a small smile. She had learned what she was getting into quite quickly when she first realized her love for Sasuke ran deeper than a surface-level crush. Any relationship she had with him wouldn’t be normal, be it romantic or platonic. Sasuke’s definition of a relationship was understandably different than most others; she had to learn how to read into the small gestures and unspoken words he left between them - the forehead pokes, the thank you’s, and the occasional mumbled annoying. There would be no typical gifts, no grand romantic gestures, and she was okay with that.

She had hardly expected a congratulatory note for her birthday, let alone a physical gift. Sure, a summoning scroll might not be the most conventional gift, but Sakura figured the practicality of it summed up Sasuke’s approach to relationships perfectly: securing the safety of those closest to him. This particular gesture meant she was at least somewhere on his (very short) list of valuable people in his life.  

So when she tucked the scroll away, she did so with a smile, knowing that the added weight next to her medical supplies was a comfort that Sasuke had her back no matter where he was.

                                                 *   *   *   *   *

Sakura discovered that sentiment was far more literal than she had initially thought as she fled the scene of an assassination mission gone wrong in Yukigakure. Eliminating the target - a noble displaced by the war who sought to sow seeds of discontent against the ruling family - was fairly straightforward. A quick henge, a few unconscious guards, and a convenient chakra-induced heart attack left no trace to Konoha or the royal family.

The bounty hunters on her tail were decidedly less straightforward.

Since the end of the war, Sakura’s field mission count had dropped drastically. With Tsunade out of the village, rebuilding and strengthening Konoha’s medical system fell squarely on her shoulders. Ino’s support with the Children’s Mental Health Clinic left some room in her schedule for diplomatic medical missions to neighboring villages as a show of goodwill after the Allied Shinobi Forces dissolved, but she was rarely included in combat units. Kakashi had only assigned her to this solo mission as a favor to Koyuki since she was already familiar with Sakura from her genin days. Relations between Konoha and Iwagakure had been steady enough after the war, but Kakashi couldn’t risk instability in a country so close to Iwa.

While Sakura had kept up with her combat skills as well as she could through spars and periodic demonstrations at the Academy, she could feel the rust in her reaction times as she adjusted her own fighting style to the unfamiliar terrain. Snow meant additional chakra expenditure to maintain body temperature and keep her feet planted firmly on the ground; it took her the first few moments of the pursuit just to adjust her fighting style so that she wouldn’t go skidding across ice when she followed through on her punches.

It was the split second of hesitation between her noticing the first hunter rapidly approaching from behind and actually lunging to the left to avoid his attack that cost her a kunai to the thigh. The wound was deep, but Sakura was less concerned about the fact that she could clearly see the muscle fibers in her leg and more concerned about neutralizing the unknown poison that was trying to spread from it. Sewing the skin together enough to stop the bleeding was second nature; it was maintaining a chakra net around the wound to contain the poison that required a bit more focus.

Based on both their speed and specialized jutsu, Sakura guessed the hunters were at least jounin-level. Ten to twelve  total based on a quick extension of her sensory jutsu. Had this been a different situation, Sakura would have been flattered that someone thought she was dangerous enough to send so many high-level shinobi to ambush her. She made a quick mental note to thank Karin for training her in a variant of the Kagura Shingan jutsu.

Running forever wasn’t an option, especially at the pace she was being forced to keep. She needed to start picking these guys off - she figured she had faced far worse odds and won.

Sakura slid to a stop and waited precisely six seconds for about half of the hunters to catch up before she drove her fist into the ground. Unsteady ground and low visibility from the snow she had loosened caught the two closest hunters off guard, and she pressed her advantage to neatly slice their jugulars open with chakra scalpels. She took note of their appearance, standard shinobi gear in shades of white and grey and curiously blank hitai-ates linked around both of their necks, and paused just long enough to snatch one of the headbands for later inspection. She tucked it into her medical pouch before rounding to face the next wave of hunters.

Most of the remaining nin were smart enough to keep their distance; they must have done enough research on her to know that engaging her in close-combat was the fastest way to lose. The nin fell into a loose semicircle formation around her, half close enough for mid-range attacks and half further back. If they were Iwa or Yuki missing nin, she could expect mostly Water and Earth-style jutsu - the same affinities she had, but probably much more practiced.

Keeping a firm hold on her Kagura Shingan to track her opponents, Sakura quickly formed the seals for Suiton: Kiri Shikaku she had picked up during a brief stay in Kiri and saw an immediate improvement in her vision. She caught four hunters in her visual range and charged forward, hoping to close the distance between them fast enough for her to get a clean hit. All four flew through the same familiar sequence of hand signs she had seen from Iwa nin during the war, and a solid rock wall about ten feet high erupted in her path.

Not deterred in the slightest by the barrier, Sakura augmented her speed with chakra and drove a fist into the wall. The rock gave more resistance to her wrist than normal, so she quickly adjusted the chakra concentration in her knuckles to absorb the additional force. The hunters, she guessed, had infused their chakra into the wall in hopes that the reinforcement would injure her wrist or at least slow her down.

Sakura smirked as her fist drove clean through the wall and followed her punch up with a roundhouse to shatter it. Their chakra control was good if they could spread it so finely across the surface of the wall - but hers was better.

She darted towards the closest target and delivered a punch to his gut that snapped his spine clean in half. His partner appeared at her side in the next breath, driving his katana towards her neck and forcing her to drop to her knees to dodge. Sakura swept her leg underneath the nin’s feet, ignoring the stinging sensation of the snow on her skin as she followed the nin’s dodge up with a well-aimed kunai. The weapon landed squarely in the back of his dominant hand and forced him to change grips on his katana.

A small part of Sakura’s mind was immediately suspicious when the two other nin closest to them chose to charge her head-on instead of retreating. Perhaps she had given them too much credit if they were reckless enough to rush into a taijutsu battle with her just because she had taken a few of them out.

It made more sense when chains of water shot out from the ground to bind her ankles and wrists firmly to the ground - the work of the long-range nins’ combined Suiton: Suikusari no Jutsu. They must have been watching for an opening to slow her down long enough for the mid-range hunters to close in on her and deliver a killing blow.

The chains were sturdier than any suiton she had faced in the past, no doubt due to the number of hunters who were focused on restraining her. Sakura channeled a burst of pure chakra to the surface of the skin on her wrists, ankles, and torso; anywhere the chains touched, she honed in on. She could either drive her chakra into the chains, slow down the water molecules in them so that they turned to ice, and shatter them, or push her chakra directly outwards to free herself long enough to move away from the chains.

The first option would have been a more permanent solution, but the breath of a hunter nin on her neck forced Sakura into the second. With a shannaro! Sakura willfully tore her body out of the chains, redirected the chakra to her feet, and used the closest nin’s chest as a platform to fling herself over the chains and out of reach. She shoved one foot into the woman’s chest and used the other to bat a kunai with an explosive tag away from them both.

What Sakura didn’t account for was the nin she had planted her foot on reacting quickly enough to snag her ankle and drag her to the ground with her. She used the momentum of her fall to slide further away from the chains and twisted her ankle to free herself. Ice-covered rocks sliced at her forearms and stomach, but she drove her fingers into the ground to lever herself forward.

Crippling pain radiated from her ankle as soon as she was free, drawing a hoarse cry from her throat. She hadn’t seen a weapon in the nin’s hand, and there was no open wound. A second wave of searing pain nearly brought Sakura to her knees yet again, and she reached out for her medical chakra to send to inspect the area as she narrowly vaulted over a windmill shuriken -

Only to find that summoning her chakra felt like pulling a viscous liquid through a fine sieve. The chakra that had been isolating the poison around her wounds only stayed in place from sheer force of will. She spared a quick glance at her ankle, eyes widening at the black seal branded onto her skin.

Fuinjutsu.

Sakura didn’t recognize the seal and didn’t have time to inspect it further. Water chains exploded from the ground beneath her just as four hunters lunged at her from each direction. She jumped into the air, twisting to narrowly avoid a series of kunai. A loose shuriken lodged into her calf. Sakura immediately recognized the signs of poison digging into her system; she also recognized with a growing trepidation that it took far more of her concentration than she could spare to dredge up the medical chakra necessary to isolate it.

Whatever seal the hunters had placed on her was blocking her chakra flow, but not in a way she had experienced before. Training with Shizune’s poisons and Hinata’s tenketsu blocks hadn’t prepared her for this. Her chakra wasn’t completely inaccessible, but it was as though a fine mesh had settled over each of her chakra points. It was as though the hunters hoped she would continue trying to mold her chakra, exhausting herself enough in the process that they could take her out.

Her dread grew when she reached out for her Byakugo only to feel the same fine mesh blocking her access. She could still feel the mass of chakra settled behind her forehead, but she doubted she could summon enough of it fast enough to make a significant difference in this fight.

Sakura had a sinking feeling that this seal, which she hadn’t even come across in the Uzumaki fuinjutsu scrolls Naruto had lent to her, was designed specifically to hinder ninja with her level of chakra control and reserves. It didn’t matter how much control she had if it took her six times as long to drag her chakra to a specific point. Keeping the poison in her system at bay occupied enough of her attention at the moment. Evading the seemingly endless water chains that followed her and the four nins on her tail only added to her exhaustion.

One of the hunters managed to land a kick squarely on her side, cracking at least two ribs. Sakura took another blow to her back, and she twisted to catch the nin’s ankle. She snapped it cleanly in two, baring her teeth as she drove a kunai into the kunoichi’s neck before she could finish the seals for an Earth-style jutsu.

She managed to keep with this rhythm long enough to incapacitate another two nin but knew that she was reaching her limit. She took a half dozen more hits from the closest hunters and a particularly nasty cut from a katana before she pulled back, focused on her seal, and pushed. Black lines twisted down her face and startled the hunters long enough for her to shunt what chakra she could get ahold of to the soles of her boots. The force of the chakra from her seal was enough to push what little she needed through.

Sakura took off at a sprint, running as far and as fast as she could in the opposite direction of the hunters who immediately followed suit. Knowing her options were limited, Sakura scrambled behind the first large boulder she could find and snapped the highest level genjutsu she could manage over the surrounding area. Her jaw clenched to choke off a scream at the fire that lanced through her chakra network as she forced her chakra into the jutsu.

Her chakra control, it seemed, was not better than whichever nin had developed this seal.

She quickly surveyed her condition - several lacerations, at least two cracked ribs, and more poison in her system than she could afford to isolate at once - and realized that the seal on her ankle was not only making it more difficult to mold chakra but also draining it. Sakura immediately withdrew her own chakra, slamming her Yin seal down before the hunter’s seal could touch her reserves. Without her Byakugo, Sakura figured she barely had enough chakra to maintain her genjutsu and keep the poison around her major wounds locked in place. Healing herself would do nothing but leave her drained and vulnerable when the hunter nins eventually found her.

Her genjutsu skills had improved drastically under Kurenai’s tutelage, but the hunter nins would eventually figure out what she had done and double back to find her. They knew as well as she did that she wasn’t in a condition to flee very far.

Without hesitation, Sakura withdrew the summoning scroll Sasuke had given her from a pouch at her hip and snapped it open. She didn’t have enough chakra to summon enough of Katsuyu to be useful, and Sakura would be long dead before reinforcements came even if she did ask Katsuyu to send a message to Konoha.

As much as she hated snakes, Sakura desperately hoped for Aoda as she drew a bloodied thumb across the parchment (though the rational part of her brain noted she probably didn’t have the chakra to handle that level of summons either). She blanched at the strain the summons put on her chakra network and wondered belatedly if she had overestimated how much of what little chakra she had left she could actually direct towards the summons. Slamming her eyes shut with a choked cry, Sakura visualized grabbing onto the thin trails of chakra that creaked through her veins and pulled.

If she’d had the energy for it, Sakura is certain she would have screamed when it was neither a hawk nor a snake that appeared before her - but rather, Sasuke Uchiha himself.

[flowerwrites06]

blossoms and blood III — jjk

Plot: Two lovers are ripped apart in the name of duty.

Pairing(s): Prince/King!Jungkook x Princess/Queen!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 4k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut

Tags & Warnings: violence, angst, explicit smut, blood

Authors Note: I know a couple of you wanted this so I hope you like!

In the warm, comforting day Belle took a stroll towards the school and care-house of the inner city. A few families were reluctant in sending their children to these new establishments so after a couple of days of thinking, new participants came walking in.

Sun hat veil covering her face, she walked towards one of the teachers Jimin who had the brightest smile tugged at his lips.

He stood near the entrance, sweetly greeting the waddling and prancing little humans entering the building.

When he saw Belle pad towards them, he quickly gave her a bow along with the parents standing to watch their children. She waved it away standing next to the teacher.

“Have they been adjusting well?” Belle asked.

Jimin nodded keeping a close eye so everyone was accounted for. Every child seemed to reach just past his knee, looking up at the Queen with a curious smile before going about their way. “A few of them are little sensitive to loudness so we have to really keep the noises down.”

“They’ve been exposed to the horrors of war, I’m not surprised.” Belle intertwined her fingers together in front of her. “You could try soothing them with music during class. They might get used to the slight noise in a different way.” She remembered her mother using that technique on her as a child after a siege or attack. Though eventually being deep into her journeys across the seven years caused her to be used to the sights, noises and smells.

He hummed in agreement. “I’ll try to do that today.” He nodded. “How’d the council meeting go?”

Belles’ smile disappeared for a moment at the mention. “The decision still hasn’t been confirmed on the new conditions. The Sun King is coming today and I have no idea whether he’s going to come in peace or with cannons.” She spoke the last part in a lower voice.

Once the last child walked into the building, he turned to face her. “Well whatever happens, we’ll try to keep them safe.” A smile tugged at his lips as a form of reassurance.

The Queen nodded. “Thank you.” Her heart swelled when she heard giggling from the inside of the room. No matter what happened on the political side of things, Belle was glad to see the innocence in some of these children were still preserved.

Walking over to the building next door was the care-house for younger children and infants. Belle opened the door carefully and saw Gaia at the front carrying a baby calmly sucking on its hand while she pointed at a few drawings for the toddlers on the floor. The couple opened the buildings together a few months after her reign when the amount of orphans on the streets grew too high. Consequences of disease which caused her to get physicians like Taehyung to lessen the death count.

“You’ve got your hands full. Literally.” Belle grinned closing the door to ensure no one crawled out accidentally.

Gaia chuckled, bright eyes flickering over to the monarch before giving her a half curtsy. “They’re adorable. Although we’ve had some of them wanting to train to be soldiers. Hopefully the pillow sticks suffice for now.” She nodded towards the two toddlers whacking each other with soft floppy cylinders and giggling after a few seconds.

“Let’s hope we don’t get that desperate to start recruiting babies.” She mused walking closer to the woman.

“You made the right decision, you know. Taking all those people in.” Gaia spoke while bouncing the baby in her arms a little. “I’ve seen kings who would turn away anyone they didn’t have responsibility for.”

“Good thing I’m not a King.” Belles’ eyes flickered over to a little one crawling across the floor before stopping in their tracks to stare up at her. She couldn’t help but have a large smile tugged at her lips. She remembered a time where a younger version of herself imagined have her own children play around in the castle or out in the gardens.

Pulling her sun hat off and placing it on the floor, she leaned down slowly and picked the baby up. “Are you a little explorer?” Belle chuckled lightly under her breath.

“Jimin and I have been taking her home. The guards brought her in a basket. Said they heard her crying in a burning house.” Gaia reached out to the baby in Belle’s arms and caressed her cheek gently.

The Sun King was a brutal conqueror but Belle somehow couldn’t find herself being angry at the male. She never burned down villages or killed innocents but she had cut down soldiers who had families or newly born children just like the one she held. Maybe their methods were a little different in terms of brutality but they both were conquerors nevertheless. Somehow she felt undeserving of holding such an innocent in her blood stained arms.

Belle blinked quickly and placed her gently on the floor. “Off you go, little one.” She whispered caressing the sweet little things’ back before standing up straight. “You take good care of them, Gaia.”

“Of course.” She bowed carefully.

She grabbed her sunhat and made her way out of the care-house with it placed securely on her head again. However, she stopped in her tracks at the entrance when she saw a familiar figure leaning against the edge of the now open door. A ghost of a smile played on his small lips.

“I thought you already did your rounds on the people.” Belle spoke while walking past him.

“There’s no harm in checking again. I heard there were new children coming in and I wanted to see if they arrived safely.” Jungkook pushed himself off the edge, closing the door before following the Queen down the streets.

Both monarchs ended up walking side by side down the streets of the flourishing kingdom. “I didn’t peg you to be interested in such delicate matters.” Belle averted her gaze from the male even though she felt his shoulder brush against hers.

“Oh Belle you know I’m very good at handling delicacies every now and then.” Jungkook couldn’t help the wide smirk tugging at his lips.

Belle looked at him in disbelief and mock disgust. “May I remind you that the very reason you’re allowed to stay here is because I’ve just dived my own people into a war you started?”

“The Sun King started this war.” He corrected.

“And your parents only heightened it.”

“What about you? You’re calling the most brutal King ever known to man into your home and for what? He won’t answer to diplomatic negotiations.” Jungkook shook his head.

“Well I can’t just wait until his army takes over your kingdom and comes to mine.” Belle argued. “This problem is preventable. The Sun King is brutal but he’s not closed for negotiations otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to come.” She wasn’t sure how much of that sentiment was true because the woman never met this King before but all she could do was hope.

The two paused in the middle as Jungkook tried to read her expression through her veil. A small distant memory passed through his mind when she used to tease him by hiding herself under the veil preventing a kiss. He tried to stop himself from smiling at the thought. “What if he’s lying?”

“Then I’ll take full responsibility in killing the bastard where he stands.”

-

At midday, the Sun King rode in his majestic chariot through the gates of Belles’ kingdom. Gates opened in an almost deafening screech welcoming a crowd of white and tawny horses across the large courtyard. Seokjin stood at the entrance of the palace watching the chariot come to full stop with the driver climbing out from the front and stepping to the door.

The King climbed out of the chariot, outfit shining in gold and green elegantly representing nature. While the beauty of it all can be admired it was Hoseoks’ artistic way of saying he was everywhere, embedded in nature itself and ruler of anything that resides in it. A classic mindset for the Sun Kingdom lineage.

Double doors opened and the proud monarch padded into the room with the utmost confidence, jewellery clinking and shoes echoing against the floor. Dark blond hair reaching just below his eyes and even his skin harboured a golden glow but everyone knew it was a disguise for this dark actions.

While Hoseok stopped in the centre, Seokjin continued walked to the Queens’ side.

Standing in front of the throne, Belle wore a yellow and deep pink dress with her hair tied up securely by golden pins and jewelled strings while a few strands of her hair hovered over her forehead and down the sides of her face. Jungkook stood on the far right side of the room, anger immediately radiating from his being at the sight of the Sun King while Seokjin stood on Belle’s left with a neutral expression.

Hoseok had the widest smile plastered on his face. If Belle didn’t know his bloody history, she could have easily mistaken him for a kind man with a good heart. “Why this is a very pleasant surprise. The mighty Queen Belle.” He did a brief bow.

“Sun King Hoseok.” Belle addressed in a calm tone, deep pink painted lips pursed together.

“I must admit, almost a decade of operating separately, I was a little taken aback at your request for an audience.” Delicate looking hands touched his chest.

“Situation has changed a little, I’m afraid.” She replied simply.

Hoseoks’ gaze flickered over to Jungkook, his smile disappeared only for a moment before his smile grew into a sinister smirk. “Yes…it was very kind of you to take in a whole kingdoms’ population under your wing. We don’t find loyal and trusting monarchs these days, do we?” He kept his gaze on Jungkook as he spoke those words.

Belles’ grip around her own fingers tightened. “Which is exactly why I asked for this meeting.”

The Sun King turned his gaze to the bright Queen now. “Of course. What do you need from me?”

She took a deep breath. “As you may be aware, your attempts at governing King Jungkooks’ land has led to countless casualties.”

“Some sacrifices have to be made, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. Sacrifices of soldiers and generals is the way of war. Not merchants or farmers or tailors or infants. Those are still brutal murders, war or not.” Belle clarified with a neutral expression and once again the court drowned in deep silence at her voice. “King Jungkook has pleaded for my help which I accept on account of protecting survivors that wish to stay under my protection.”

Hoseok chuckled quietly. “You are most kind to protect a King that once betrayed you.”

“This is not a personal matter.”

“Of course, of course. But I’m afraid my family been acquiring this kingdom before your glorious reign.” Hoseok took a few steps forward and so did Seokjin. “You must understand that we cannot just call off our journey on a mere request. Not saying that Your Majesty’s’ voice is not of utmost importance but you do need understand that certain promises need to have a stronger bond.”

“What are your terms?” Belle’s brows furrowed a little.

Purposely, the Sun King left a moment of silence to add anticipation but they both knew what was on his mind. “If you would do me the greatest honour, your Majesty…allow me to take your hand in your marriage.” Hoseok smirked. “It has proven to be the strongest bond of any alliance after all. And…you are by far the most beautiful royal I have ever seen.”

Jungkooks’ expression hardened, burning holes through the Sun King. Smoke could have come out of his ears at this point as he resisted to shout out an objection. Instead his fingers curled up into fists, knuckles whitening from the pressure.

“I accept.” Belle replied plainly.

Even Seokjins’ head turned to face his Queen for a moment. Ever since the death of her parents, the woman promised never to delve into marital status. Unless Belle really needed to protect something dear to her.

Jungkooks’ eyes reddened at this point flickering over to Belle who had her chin raised and neutral expression. No. Please don’t. He pleaded in his thoughts, the words just touching his tongue but his voice seemed lose its way.

The Sun King, however, smiled in his new little victory.

-

Belle calmly walked through the doors of her bedroom, taking a deep breath to dry out the tears forming in her eyes. This was the best decision. She knew it was. It had to be. If she wanted a non-violent way to stop things, this was the only way. She tried repeating the phrase over again in her mind to somehow ease this tugging feeling. The dreary silence however soon broke when Jungkook practically bashed through the door and slammed it behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook growled a little, walking closer to the Queen as she walked to the table in the centre.

“Helping your kingdom.” Belle replied in a somewhat calm voice, taking off her earrings with shaky fingers.

“You’re going to marry that fucking murderer!” He roughly pointed at the closed door.

She tossed the earrings on the table attempting to avoid his burning gaze. “I had no choice.”

“He destroyed our homes and threatened both our kingdoms our whole lives!” Jungkook followed her, rage burning through his veins while she padded towards her vanity. “And you’re just going to invite him to your bed.”

Belle slammed her hair pins onto the table causing some of the products to rattle in the tension thick air. “You think this is easy for me.” Fingers tightened around the sharp tip almost piercing into her palm. “You think the last seven years, I’ve sat here helplessly sitting and doing nothing!” She slid the pins off the vanity as they crashed onto the floor.

Strands stuck to her tear stained cheeks as Belle faced the now silent King. “I’ve been out there! I know exactly what’s he done because I’ve done the same thing.” She let out a shaky sigh. “I’m a murderer. You’re a murderer. We’re no different than him.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw and swallowed thickly. “He would never do what you did with my people.” He nodded towards the door, attempting to take a breath to calm himself down but nothing about this was soothing. Glossy eyes twitched as more dangerous words escaped from his lips. “He won’t love you like I—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t do that. This is going to happen if you want your people to be safe.” Her voice resorted to a hurtful mixture of a mutter and whisper.

“Why does it have to be a choice between your happiness and their safety?” Jungkook stepped closer to a point where she could feel the heat radiating from his taller frame.

“Because that’s how it’s always been.” Belle sniffled lightly. “And you’ve chosen the latter before…why is it so hard now?”

“I can’t—” He gulped down hard. “I can’t watch you get married to him.”

“Then don’t come to the wedding.” Belle tried to walk past him but he grabbed onto her arms. “Jungkook…” She kept her eyes down on his neck instead of staring at him directly in fear of doing something she promised herself never to do again.

“Please…” Jungkook whispered, lips seconds away from her nose. “I’ll turn myself in. The people can stay here. He wants the territory and he wants my crown. You don’t have to do this.” His head practically magnetized onto hers, their foreheads slightly brushing against each other and bodies nearing.

“They’re still your people.” Belle swallowed down the lump in her throat. “They need to see you.”

Jungkook stammered lightly. “There has to be something the—” He took a deep breath. “We spent our entire lives promising to be together.”

“Things change.” She turned her head to the side.

“Have you stopped loving me?” His voice broke a little tugging at something in her belly.

Belles’ chin quivered, closing her eyes momentarily. “Jungkook…”

“Just tell me.” Jungkook leaned in nudging his nose against her temple. One side of him waiting for her to push him away but he only kept melting into her warmth minute by minute. “Tell me you don’t love me…”

“Stop it.”

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave you alone.”

She took a deep breath with a hardened expression and looked him in the eye. Their faces merely a breath apart. Every time the couple were this close together, they only did one thing and one thing alone. Seven years ago at least. When she wasn’t arranged to be married to someone else. Belle gulped down the desire to lean closer and tightened her jaw. “I don’t love you.”

Jungkooks’ grip on her arms loosened as he backed away from her. A light ripping feeling in his chest as he watched the love of his life turn away. His own hands hung loosely at his sides, back resting on one of the pillars of her bed, breathing growing uncomfortably heavy.

“Please leave.” Belle whispered, pushing a strand behind her ear.

Swallowing the painful lump in his throat, Jungkook turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

As the King disappeared Belle slid down the wall, sobs shaking her body, landing on the floor in complete helplessness of the hole she fell in.

-

Deep into the dark night, King Hoseok strolled through the outer pathways of the beautiful palace owned by Queen Belle. Eyes flickered over to the sides where the servants were cleaning up the fallen leaves off of the courtyards. One of them caught his eye quickly as he saw a familiar tattoo on his arm.

“You, sir…” He announced capturing the servant’s attention as he stood up straight watching him curiously. “Come here.”

The servant walked over to the monarch and began strolling beside him.

“I understand you had a great dedication towards your previous King.” Hoseok glanced at his tattoo again recognizing it as a sigil for the man who claimed himself as the Silver King. The tattoo showcasing the white tiger head. “You were a good solider to him.”

“Kings are better at governing successful countries, Your Majesty.” He answered without any hesitation.

Hoseok suppressed the need to roll his eyes but smiled either way. “I need you to do a job for me. While I find much enjoyment in marrying Queen Belle in all her glory, there are a few things that need to be taken care of regarding her relations with King Jungkook. I assume you’ve heard some stories of their history.”

The servant nodded more to please Hoseok rather than actually knowing what he was talking about. Either way it didn’t matter. He just needed someone to get the job done. Who better than a blind minded solider?

Pulling out a vial from his pouch, he handed it to the servant. The deep blue liquid glimmered a little under the lantern lights. “This will help her be a little…more responsive when I deal with the King by my own wishes.” Hoseok spoke under his breath but clear enough for the servant to hear. “A few drops over her eyes should do the trick.”

The servant accepted the vial, as expected, with no questions asked.

“In time the potion will wear off…but she will understand why some Kings are better off pulled out of the picture.” Hoseok placed his hands behind his back.

The servant bowed and hid the vial under his clothes while walking away making him feel a lot more at ease.

-

Belle slept soundly in her bed as the night fell. On the other side of her door, however, the usual guards were nowhere to be found. Empty enough for Hoseoks’ planted man to slither along the hallway.

The door opened silently, just enough for the servant to slither inside. He shut it with the faintest click making him wince a little but the Queen didn’t move too much. The closer he inched towards her slumbering body, the faster his heart pounded through his chest.

Pulling the cork from the potion, the servants’ shaky fingers carefully held it, standing just at the edge of her bed and hovering it over Belle’s eyes.

His own breath caught in his throat when those eyes opened. Gaze burned right through him almost burning his chest.

Belle grabbed the hilt of her sword from the side of her bed and wacked the servant away. The man stumbled back almost falling onto the ground but he knocked onto the table, the vase of flowers falling to the side.

He hurried tried to grab for his sword, unsheathing it with heaving breaths and immediately slashed it to keep her away.

“Guards!” Belle yelled out, swinging her own sword causing their weapons to clash.

Jungkook padded through the hallways of the palace, rubbing his tired eyes from the inability to sleep. Eyes flickered over to the entrance of the Queen’s bedchamber and he halted. No one was posted in front of her door. Brows furrowed taking a few careful steps as the sound of something thudding echoed through the other side.

Then he heard a familiar voice scream out and the first instinct was to barge through the door. Jungkook saw her trying to fend off an attacker dressing servants clothing.

The King unsheathed his own weapon and his sword clashed with the attacker, pushing him fully onto the ground.

The attacker stayed stationery for a moment causing both monarchs to lose track of his movement before lunged towards Jungkook again, blades flashing against the light and screeching against each other. In his frantic need to escape quickly, the attacker finally swung his sword against Jungkooks’ shoulder.

He felt his skin rip apart, agonising pain burning through him and his vision growing darker.

Belle used the attackers’ distraction to wave her sword right across his neck, a tear spurting out blood down his clothes and drooling down his mouth as he limped to the ground.

Breathing heavily to calm herself down, she stared down at Jungkook fallen to the ground as he gripped onto his shoulder, thick red liquid dripping between his fingers.

She took off her cotton robe, crumbling it up slightly before pressing it onto his wound. “It’s okay.” Belle whispered. The white robe almost instantly soaked fading into a deep red colour as she heard metal clanging from outside getting louder.

The door burst open with Seokjin and a crowd of guards rolling in with their swords raised. Seokjin raised a hand calling them to stand down once they saw the two fallen bodies. “Belle, are you alright?” He asked.

“Call the physician please!” Belle almost shrieked in her broken tone, tears flooding in the brim of her eyes.

One of the guards immediately ran out of her chambers to do exactly as asked.

Belle looked down at Jungkook again seeing his eyes reddened and sweat dribbling from the sides of his face. Softly she placed his head on her lap, her less blood stained hand caressing his cheek as she placed pressure on the wound as it continued to ooze through the thin fabric. “Why did you do that?” She whispered, lips trembling.

Jungkook let out shaky sigh, wincing a little. “It’s like you said.” He smirked a little. “I’m a solider…I protect my Queen blindly.” His eyelids felt heavy, relishing in the warmth of her embrace.

“Keep your eyes open.” She muttered, heart racing as he saw his lashes touch down to his cheeks and his breathing slowed down.

The last thing Jungkook was heard was Belle’s soothing voice and the sound of pounding footsteps before he lulled into a light sleep.

<< prev chap | next chap >>

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Five

Chapter Five: All My Memories Gather 'Round Her

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

He ruffled her hair.

Again.

It was a mistake letting her hair grow back out, now clocking back in at impressive two inches Jane was growing used to the platinum blonde locks. Sure, there were some off-handed comments, but a stern attitude dissuaded most of the direct jokes. Well, for most, it did. Roy was always an exception when it came to her.

Annoying geezer.

But was it a sense of direction or trust that guided her to follow through his every command? It was true Jane had been wary at first- she had seen first hand what the power of being made a defacto leader could do to someone. Abuse, rape, and murder. Here, at least for the time being, Roy kept his head. Even begrudged the position. Not that he shared it pubically, only mentioning it in passing to her, but she understood the burden all the same. Jane had lived it: rejected it. It was a strange sense of comfort to follow, better that the man leading was becoming a dear...

She couldn't; she had to reject that notion.

"I know you're there."

The whir of the door a dead giveaway when it came to being followed. Jane's hypervigilance had only increased with her time spent outside active combat. Sure, she still found herself battling at least on a biweekly routine, but it was nothing compared to her time on the Normandy. That person spent more time in cover than under covers.

The mousy-haired girl stared up at her, brown eyes hard and unyielding. Hell, this kid was scary.

"Do you need something, Evelyn?"

The girl harrumphed, "what are you doing?"

Leave it to the lady carrying a dying plant around to be the most suspicious thing going on in the compound, "Spectre business."

Evelyn's, not Eva's, glare worsened. Her cheeks and nostrils flaring.

"What are you doing?" Jane replied in the same smarmy tone.

"My job," she returned matter-of-factly, "even if I don't like it, and even if Papa says you are sick."

"What, are you like, three? You don't have a job."

"Seven. And yes I do! Pater gave me one," the kid smirked, sticking out her tongue.

"And what's that? Being precocious?"

"Pre- what?" Evelyn stammered.

"Being a shit," the swear already escaped before it could be altered. Thus, reinstating the belief that children did not belong around her in any capacity.

Her furrowed brow gave way to a secretive smile, "Pater said someone needed to watch you. Seems stupid, but Papa said we all have to do things we don't want to right now."

Of course, Roy would.

"You're weird," the girl stated plainly, "your face is kinda glowy, and you spend a lot of time with those aliens."

Back on Earth, it wasn't hard to forget that First Contact was a meer thirty years ago. Not that it was blame for their attitudes, but most of the humans had a hard time trusting the aliens. It was only made worse when the squadron of Turians joined them, piling them on top of the loud and aggressive Krogan; most of the natives were uncomfortable. Already the Turians and Krogan had old beefs to settle, and the dash of human fear for the Turian species quickly started a lopsided triangle. At least the Krogan adage of 'seek the enemy of your enemy, and you will find a friend' came to the humans and krogan developing a tenuous alliance.

"Those aliens are nothing to be afraid of," Jane chided gently.

The kid neither gave up nor responded, instead following the woman through the hall and into the open atrium. The place had boomed in population, the mall teeming with signs of life that would have echoed its days before the war. Voices, distant music, and the general clatter of movement greeting them from outside the confines of the sealed hallways. Once Jane could walk through here without watching a step, now she dodged other people, weaving through the crowd with ease and speed intended to dislodge her charge.

Evelyn was spry, knocking into the lady as she unexpectedly stopped. She peeked around her, watching as the red Krogan started to cheer loudly. Another alien, smaller and with a grey carapace charged at his elder, the two rather than colliding ended the charge with a weird arm hold. For a moment, the two crests rested against each other, sharing a few soft and private words.

Even weirder was The Recruit, looking over the scene sadly, a hand held over her heart. Her jaw flexed, another sharp and illuminated line flaring vertically up her cheek—another note to add to the log.

"They look so mean," Evelyn complained, unsure why Jane would be watching this sadly. It was frightening, to her they were great brutes that usually ended up destroying something.

"They really aren't," Jane countered softly, a slight crack in her voice, "if one gives you an attitude, a head butt will set them straight."

She did like that this grown-up did not treat her like a child, unlike the rest.

Both of them tensed at the appearance of a green-shelled krogan; the arrival of the male ended the short embrace between the red and grey one. Then, as usual, the aliens returned to their fierce and violent natures, turning the greeting into a shoving contest.

"Don't fu-," the adult caught herself this time, "leave him alone. He's trouble."

Jane strode forwards, picking up her pace. It was no longer weaving through the crowd, as so much a straight charge across the atrium and to the access corridor that leads to the western parking lot- deciding they wanted to stay out of the way for practicality and ease. The Turians chose to take up the ramp as their headquarters. And this is where Jane headed for her errand.

Yeah, make me, make friendly with the Turians. Screw that they respect the chain of command more than a friendly face, all arguments Jane had tried in vain against the LT to get out of this assignment,  watch me fuck this up over a plant. Jeez, why not let them grow their own garden? Fuck if I know what I am doing.

But he did have one counterargument that made complete sense and was entirely of her own fault. She was the known member of the humans in residence to have any formal diplomatic training. She was still kicking herself for that slip of knowledge.

"You should head back home," she murmured to her back, "boring adult stuff. You won't miss much."

The baggy military rags were not enough protection from the spring chill, but she would press on. Clipping up the three-story climb to reach the perched Turians. The 'outpost' could overlook the entire mall with well-placed postings, which the military-minded turians had already accomplished within hours of selecting this area as a base of operations. The forward guard used to seeing the Recruit hardly blinked, only balking in their subtle way at the package tucked into her arms.

"Recruit," the LT wasn't the only one called by their moniker, the pinkish hued Turian gave something equivalent to a grin eyes wandering down to the plant the human carried, "another issue?"

Jane pushed the plant on the turian, "pretty much. I don't know shit about these plants."

"I grew herbs in my kitchen, I'd guess too much sunlight?"

"Makes as much sense as anything else. We've learned they can't be next to potatoes, now they hate the sun," Jane glanced down at her arms, "and I forgot to wear gloves. That's disappointing- I had plans for those hands tonight."

Silva's mandible vibrated, "there are other ways to relieve tension."

So begun the dance. It always started clean, water running over her arms, a quick quip about the luxury of running water, and the application of ointment. The all too gentle rub of talons across the top of her knuckles, a lingering glance Jane couldn't quite bring herself to notice, and finally a cocky declaration of future victory.

The Commander enjoyed the relaxed regulations of the Turian military, not that Alliance would have ever forbidden forbidden a friendly sparring match it felt much better to let off some steam without fear of repercussion. One didn't have to play nice. Fringe pulling, blows below the belt, untamed aggression was all too welcome in the turian fighting cage. While today wasn't a dirty fight day, Jane was all too eager to move.

Silva made the first jab, and the Recruit absorbed it with a smile.

"The LT is going to have my head one of these days," the Turian went in for the next blow, this time the human dodged, "I'm even going soft on you."

"Come on, Shepard," Garrus mocked, weaving below her fist, "stop dancing around."

Roy didn't appreciate the fighting, even after learning they were all in good sport. The punishment of latrine duty was now part of her chores, for how much she heeded his grumbling. He blamed the bruises for too many things- headaches, sideways glances, the lack of respect she commanded for herself. Why did he care? She never asked, never expected it. But he never told her to stop, so she wouldn't.

"I can't always make it take easy on you, Vakarian," Mary retorted, sweeping out her leg to purchase at a braced turian.

The female turian's claws grasped into her arm, but she was ready, twirling around and planting her elbow into a painfully rigid chin sending the offender reeling back a couple of steps, "that's one advantage of an exoskeleton."

"Or are we afraid to bruise our pretty face in case the Major struts on by," Garrus teased, barely inching past the biotically charged fist going for his scarred mandible, "unless he doesn't know about our little fight club?"

"At least I can roll."

"I wouldn't worry, Shepard," if the Turian were human, his eyebrow would be cocked and a flashy grin across his face, "it's so much better when they are angry."

The turian cackled; today the hits were much easier to connect. Or was the human not trying? She could be like that, destructive. Silva kept the hits low and softened the severity in which she delivered them. Jane struggled to keep her hands where they belonged, one threading and rubbing through her hair each time they disconnected to reset their stances.

"Like I care what the M-" her friend's stern glare shut her down, "don't jealous Gar-Gar."

Jane tumbled to the ground, nose trickling the strange red color. It was time for this fight to be over, the human shook underneath her grasp. But the too expressive species wore a brave face, "Jane."

"Two hundred years later, and still nobody talks about fight club," Mary after close inspection, did notice that the Major strutted, "I'm disappointed I wasn't invited." The handsome human specimen winked at the Commander, his sideways grin all-knowing.

"It's fine, probably enough for the day."

The female moved out of her grasp, turning around to wipe at her face. Silva pretended not to notice Jane went for her eyes first.

"Well, that was quick," the turian was a little disappointed, "you're different for a human."

Jane deaned to turn her head back for that comment, cocking an eyebrow at her, "you must not have left Palaven, or whatever your colony was, much."

"No, ma'am," the turian hesitated, "at least, the rest of your group doesn't seem interested in us."

"How would you feel if this was Palaven?"

Her mandibles vibrated.

"Now add your species being attacked thirty years ago by this species you suddenly have to get along with," Jane smiled softly, she was too harsh, "plus we're a bunch of cranky jerks."

Silva laughed deeply, "and add a war that has crippled an entire galaxy, it is a wonder we aren't all fighting."

"It's the krogan," Jane mused.

"Spirits bless, the krogans being the most level-headed."

"After Tuchanka, they probably feel at home," damn her words, "it was the Salarians all along."

"I mean, that's some deep level conspiracy, but it checks out," her companion tried to keep up the fading mood.

"Just give us some time; we're people of action only that really means something," to which race the words were meant for was moot.

[mfingenius]

can you do damen mistaking laurent for a pet and Auguste is not impressed(tm) even though they're friends?

Damen knows about pets, of course he does; he’s been visiting Vere since he was twelve, for diplomatic visits and because he’s friends with Crown Prince Auguste, so, theoretically, he knows all about pets. He’s never properly seen them, because the first time Theomedes had visited Vere after the peace treaty and seen pets, Damen is told he’d been scandalized, and, since then, whenever the Akielons visit, Veretian pets dress like their masters rather than like pets.

So it’s not his fault, you see? Not entirely, at least.

It’s not his fault he didn’t know Auguste had a brother.

It’s not his fault that Laurent is the most breath-taking person Damen has seen in his life, and he’s dressed exactly like Auguste, and obviously Vere’s Crown Prince has the most gorgeous pet of all. It makes sense.

“Prince Damianos,” Laurent, as he has introduced himself, says, as he bows lightly. Much more shallow than other pets have, but Damen assumes being Auguste’s pet comes with certain privileges. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, too,” Damen says deeply, looking Laurent up and down, a flush rising on his face before he looks away; that’s probably not appropriate, and he isn’t normally like this, it’s just - Damen has never seen anyone as attractive as Laurent, and he gets the most gorgeous of Akielon slaves, blonde and fair and exactly to his tastes.

And maybe, maybe if he had spent more time with Laurent and someone had called him ‘your highness’ or ‘your majesty’ maybe Damen would’ve caught on and avoided the incident, as he likes to call it, but, as it is, Auguste arrives in that moment and grabs Laurent’s arm, which is only further proof that Laurent is a pet. Courtiers don’t touch each other; Nikandros had warned him, before coming, that in Vere one only touched their pets or their family, and Auguste didn’t have any family that wasn’t his parents, Damen thought.

“Laurent, I need to talk to you,” Auguste says, and that’s another thing. No one addresses each other as informally here. Damen hasn’t heard Auguste address someone without a direct title. “Damen, we’ll be right back.”

Damen makes some sort of noise of agreement - or so he thinks, he’s not really sure - and then promptly gets distracted by watching the pet walk away.

*

“I didn’t know pets were allowed here,” Damen says to Auguste, surprised. Laurent, the blonde pet from before, is sitting beside Auguste, deeply immersed in a conversation with Nik about Delpha - and Damen didn’t know, either, that pets were so well-informed, but then again, it must be only Auguste’s pet - while they’re waiting for King Aleron and Queen Hennike. Though Damen is still not king, his father wants to retire to an Island soon, so this is his first visit to Vere alone.

“Pets?” Auguste asks, frowning. “They’re not.”

“But-” Damen doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because King Aleron and Queen Hennike enter. 

“Rise,” Councillor Herode says, and they all do.

*

Auguste’s pet is very well-read. Damen hasn’t had much chance of getting to know him better - it seems he’s a busy person, and Damen briefly wonders if Auguste gets him to flirt with people to get information, before telling himself Auguste wouldn’t do that - but in the few chances he’s had, he’s either always carrying a book or talking about one.

More than well-read, he’s informed about everything about Akielos, and Vere, and Patras, and if Damen didn’t know any better, he’d guess Laurent was a prince instead of a pet.

He sees Laurent negotiating with Nikandros about cloth tariffs, and briefly wonders if Auguste knows what his pet is up to; he must, right? No one seems to stop him, after all, not even the King and Queen. 

What makes things worse, however, is that Laurent is flirting with him, Damen is almost entirely sure. He doesn’t want anything with Laurent! Or, more accurately, he very much does want something with Laurent, but doesn’t want to risk Auguste getting angry at him over it. 

So he mostly ignores Laurent’s advances.

*

“Nikandros,” Damen says one day. “What do you know about Laurent?”

“Laurent?” Nikandros wrinkles his nose. “Prince Auguste’s-”

“Yes,” Damen nods. He doesn’t want a reminder that Laurent is Auguste’s pet, thank you very much. Though he knows pet’s contracts can be bought out, he doesn’t think buying Laurent’s contract will be a good way to start their renewed peace treaty - the reason he’s here - and anyway, he doesn’t think he wants Laurent as just a pet. He seems terribly over-prepared for that.

“Well, he’s a pain in the ass,” Nikandros says. Then, grudgingly. “But he’s very clever.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Damen could offer him much more than being a pet. Damen could make him a royal advisor, or an ambassador; though that would mean Damen would rarely get to see him, so maybe not an ambassador. Damen’s trusted advisor seems better.

“Oh no,” Nikandros says, interrupting Damen’s train of thought. “No.”

“What?”

“I know that face,” Nikandros says, glaring. “Do not try anything with him. He’s Prince Auguste’s-”

“I know.” Damen sighs. 

“He won’t like that.” Nikandros presses.

“I know,” Damen says, rolling his eyes. Of course Auguste won’t like Damen trying anything with his pet, Nikandros doesn’t need to tell him that. He sighs again. “I know. I was just - curious.”

“Well, stop it,” Nikandros says. “We cannot mess this up.”

Damen sighs for a third time and nods.

*

The incident happens on an otherwise perfectly pleasant day; he gets to spend time with Laurent, telling him about Ios and the sea and Laurent says he’d love to visit, long eyelashes fluttering, and Damen knows he’s flirting, and it kills him not to respond.

Still, he doesn’t; he grits his teeth and bears through it even if Laurent is the most perfect person Damen has - and will ever, he’s beginning to think - ever met. 

They part ways just before an important meeting, because Auguste comes get Damen; he wants to talk about the peace treaty and how it could very easily fall through if something were to happen.

He gives Damen a meaningful look while he says it, and Damen is sure it’s about Laurent, so he purses his lips and nods; Auguste smiles and claps him on the back, cheery as always, and Damen feels his heart sink.

Auguste has noticed, then.

They go to the meeting - about making appropriate changes in the peace treaty, which is important because when it was first written up both countries were reluctant, which means it has a lot of loopholes - and it’s the first meeting Laurent isn’t in.

It makes sense, since it’s the most important meeting yet.

All is going well, until, a couple of minutes late, Laurent arrives; the only free seat is next to Damen, and he takes it without apologizing for his tardiness, which is pretty arrogant for a pet, even Auguste’s.

“Are you alright, Prince Damianos?” Laurent asks with a frown; Damen hasn’t been able to convince him to call him Damen, yet. He must notice the evident tension in Damen’s shoulders.

“Yes,” Damen says shortly. Auguste is talking to Nikandros and Makedon about the border in Delpha and the male Vaskian tribes, which seem to have been giving more trouble than usual lately, so he’s distracted. “But we cannot keep being - friends.”

Laurent looks surprised, and then a little hurt, before his face turns cool, indifferent. “And may I ask why?”

Damen, Akielon to the core and more sincere than even his father is, says, “Because I am beginning to have feelings for you and you’re Auguste’s, and I cannot risk peace in my country for now.”

“Auguste’s?” Laurent looks confused again.

“Auguste’s pet.”

The entire meeting seems to screech to a halt as everyone turns to look at him; color begins rising steadily in Laurent’s face, light at first and then deepening quickly until his cheeks are crimson.

“Excuse me?”

The guards have turned very white, and so has Nikandros. His eyes are very wide.

The members of the council all look horrified except for Guion, who seems somewhere between amused and mildly interested.

Was Damen not allowed to say that out loud?

“Damen.” Nikandros looks like he wants to murder him. 

King Aleron is looking at him calculatingly, and Queen Hennike has the back of her hand pressed against her mouth; Damen thinks she might be trying not to laugh, but she might also be trying not to yell.

“You said-” Damen begins, and Nikandros interrupts him.

“Damen.”

Laurent is turning even redder, if it’s possible, and his guard, a man named Lazar - only one guard, when the rest of the royals carry at least six with them - looks like he cannot believe what he’s hearing.

“Not to try anything, because Laurent was Auguste’s-”

“Damen.” Nikandros is turning very red, too.

Auguste clears his throat. “Brother.”

Damen turns to look at him disbelievingly, and Auguste cocks an eyebrow at him; where Laurent is flushing crimson, Auguste is not. He looks at him cooly.

“Laurent is my brother,” Auguste says.

It takes two seconds for it to sink in.

The silence is deafening. 

“What?” Damen asks.

“Laurent is my brother,” Auguste repeats. “Prince Laurent is my younger brother.”

Oh gods. Damen feels his cheeks begin to burn.

“You thought I was a pet?” Laurent asks, and Damen can’t look at him, he just can’t.

“Nikandros said-” Damen begins, and everyone turns to Nik, who turns even redder.

“You never let me finish!” he defends hotly. “You only ever let me get to Prince Auguste’s!”

Damen wants to die.

“But-” he begins, voice higher than usual. He turns to Auguste desperately. “You threatened me!”

“Because everyone knows you like to bed blondes!” Auguste says, shaking his head. “I didn’t want you to-”

“You threatened him?” Laurent asks. “Auguste, I’m not a child!”

“You’re my brother, I didn’t want you to get hurt-”

“But-” Damen splutters, still in shock. “You were flirting with me!”

Laurent turns even redder as everyone rounds on him, seemingly greatly interested.

His flush has to be painful by this point.

“I - how is that relevant - I never - that doesn’t mean I’m a pet!” Laurent says. His ears are by now turning red, too.

“You were flirting with him?” Auguste asks, disbelievingly. “You’ve never shown interest in anyone-”

“Oh, Auguste, leave your brother alone.” Queen Hennike seems to think this is her moment to intervene. She looks terribly amuse with the whole situation. “It was bound to happen some day, and Damianos’s build is not easily found here, Laurent might just have a type-”

“Oh gods, stop-” Laurent buries his face in his hands, flush glowing between his fingers.

“Yes, please, everyone stop.” King Aleron says.

Everyone looks at him, and waits anxiously. Auguste is still muttering about how he’s offended Laurent didn’t tell him he was interested in anyone, Laurent is flushing brightly and kicking him under the table, Nikandros looks like he’s considering treason, and Damen? Well, Damen wants to flee.

Right after he finds out if this means he can ask Laurent out.

“Prince Damianos, if Laurent does not wish it we will not take this as a National offense,” Aleron says. Everyone looks at Laurent, who shakes his head quickly, mortified. “Very well. Laurent, you’re excused-”

“I have to leave?” Laurent asks. “He mistook me for a pet!”

“I’m very, deeply sorry, Prince Laurent, I am so, so-” Damen begins, but he’s interrupted.

“Prince Damianos, you’re also excused. Everyone here is excused. We will meet again tomorrow, because this is just - a mess.”

Everyone begins walking out of the room, speaking quickly, and Damen has no doubts that this will be across the castle - and possibly across the border - before he makes it back to Ios.

Kastor is never going to let him live it down.

“Prince Laurent,” Damen says urgently, before he walks out. Nikandros looks like he wants to throttle him, but Damen is good at ignoring that expression. “I want to apologize - I really am very sorry, I never meant to offend you-”

“Of course not,” Prince Laurent says, conflicted. “No, you just said I’m a pet. Auguste’s pet.”

Damen turns very red. “I am so, so, so sorry-”

“That’s enough apologies, Prince Damianos,” Prince Laurent says. “I - well, I’ll see you around, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Damen says faintly. “I’ll see you around.”

He leaves the room with Auguste - who throws Damen a look - and Damen stays behind with Nikandros.

“Damen, I could kill you right now,” Nik says.

Damen really couldn’t blame him if he did.

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

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[snidgetwidgeon]

Insurrection Recollections Series: Art Festival

Every year Hyrule Castle hosts an art festival where artisans from across the land can come together and share their culture with the added element of friendly competition. Having been far too long since Urbosa attended, she decides to surprise young Zelda with a visit. While there, she happens upon, and is very intrigued by the Castle Guard's most talented recruit.

Sivul’s Scimitar that I doodled as a prompt from Linktober 2020

Urbosa gingerly ran her fingers over the exquisite gems and sculpted hilt of the curved blade crafted by her master artisan. “This is your finest work, Sivul,” she commented in awe as she looked at her reflection in its polished, mirrored surface.

Sivul grinned and rolled her eyes good naturedly. “You always say that, Chief.” She stretched her neck both ways and rolled her shoulders, finally free of the project. She had fixated on it with such a single minded passion that she had no life outside the workshop, just as she did with every project really.

Urbosa drew her own blade from its horizontal sheath at her hip and compared the two. They were both thick, inlaid with designs reminiscent of Gerudo script and perfectly balanced. “I’d say you have even surpassed your master. The Scimitar of the Seven now has a counterpart, and almost pales in comparison.”

Sivul respectfully went down on one knee, recognizing when she ought to be gracious. “You honor me with such praise. I am glad to have lived up to my master’s craftsmanship.” She heard both blades sliding back into their sheaths and rose. After placing the scabbard back in its pedestal, she started to tidy her workspace a little.

Urbosa leaned against the smooth stone wall, continuing the conversation in a more casual way. “I’m also impressed that you always manage to finish well before your deadlines.”

“Yes, well... that’s just due to possession by my muse- to the detriment of every other aspect of my life,” Sivul admitted self-deprecatingly.

“Hmm, haven’t I told you to get an assistant? An apprentice, perhaps?”

“You have.”

Urbosa’s teal painted lips turned up in a wry smile when Sivul offered nothing beyond that. Cheeky vai. “Well then, you’ll have space for me to accompany you to the festival. I’d like to be there when you win popular choice.”

Sivul’s eyes were suddenly saucers. “Chief! I would- that would be- are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“My dear friend started the festival when she became Queen as a way to bring the people and cultures of Hyrule together through the sharing and appreciation of their art. I’ve missed one too many of them in the past couple of years and I will not do it again. It wasn’t a coincidence that I commissioned this work from you,” she winked. “Let’s give those yuppie Zora a run for their rupees.”

Their arrival to Hyrule Castle was heralded and the standard procession of pageantry was observed as they entered the King’s Court. Urbosa led proudly up the long red carpet, passing between numerous large pillars bedecked with banners bearing the colors and crest of the Royal Family. She was followed closely by Sivul, four attendants that carried an ornate chest perched on two poles, and finally, a group of five warriors armed with a display of Gerudo’s finest spears, scimitars and decadent round shields. The Gerudo always brought a colorful palette that was a feast for the eyes.

As she bowed, Urbosa wondered where her Little Bird could be but was sure it wouldn’t be very long before they were together. This was somewhat of a surprise visit, so she couldn’t fault the girl for not being present to receive her- she had a very busy schedule. Too busy, in her opinion.

“Gerudo Chief Urbosa,” the King’s voice boomed through the Hall. “Welcome.” Rhoam held a smile for his friend but she did not miss the tired shadow under his eyes. It was the very same one she saw in the mirror when she felt particularly run down with her own responsibilities.

“Is this a gift you have brought, perchance?” He asked, gesturing to the chest.

“You’ll wish it was once you’ve seen it.” She felt satisfied when her comment elicited genuine mirth from his features.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t dare contradict you.”

“Gerudo Town’s finest artisan, Sivul,” she took a step back and gestured to her companion, “has brought her craft for everyone to see. We intend to leave with all due accolades.”

He smiled again and very diplomatically stated, “May the best artist win. Please enjoy your stay during the festival.”

With the formalities out of the way, he closed the distance down the few steps between them and shook her hand, transitioning into his standard volume. “I’d invite you and yours to rest from your journey but I was hoping you could entertain me in my chambers for a few minutes?”

“Of course.” She turned to the others, “Don’t wait up, and remember to have fun. This is a visit for pleasure.” Her entourage all nodded respectfully and turned to leave except for two warrior attendants. She looked between them both, “That means you too. Let’s not insult poor Rhoam’s security. I’ll be fine in the castle,” she smirked. They bowed and acquiesced.

The two rulers made their way out of the Great Hall via the East wing. This led down a short hallway to a council chamber that had a very long, dark wooden oval table in the middle. The King offered some small talk as they crossed the room along the wall lined with windows, “It’s quite a surprise that you have made it this year. Zelda will be delighted.”

Urbosa smiled, slightly distracted, and nodded. She had been in these chambers many times negotiating and going over various policies and was glad to finally have a visit that was not duty-bound; though by Rhoam’s demeanor, it seemed she wouldn’t be able to escape it completely. She wondered what news was forthcoming that could not be delivered by official communications.

They entered his private chambers and he closed the door behind them. It was simply furnished with a desk and only a few chairs. There was a bookshelf against the wall and one window that looked out into a courtyard. This room was mainly used for private deliberation during larger meetings or simply as a retreat for when the King felt he needed a breather from all the political squabbling. He took a chair in front of the desk and gestured to the other, “Please, have a seat.”

She was intrigued by this meeting already; he was seated across from her casually as an equal rather than having positioned himself in a place of authority behind the desk. She crossed her legs languidly and pushed her vibrant and thick red hair off her shoulder, waiting politely for him to speak.

“My Adviser Impa has not long returned from an audience with the Deku Tree where she was able to confirm our discovery of the final Divine Beast’s location. Preparations are underway to begin another excavation mission to the Eldin region.”

“Hm, that makes sense. A beast for each race,” she laced her fingers together in thought, elbows resting on either side of her chair. “Then that could mean the soul of the hero will reside in a Hylian.”

“Still as sharp as ever. I sometimes wish you could stay at my table permanently,” he chuckled. As quickly as the humor came, it also went, and King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule revealed his vulnerability to her, as one in a very small circle he would even dare show since the passing of his wife. “I can only hope that it is not to be in our time. Perhaps we are merely a step in the grander destiny of those that come after us, and we must ready the machines for them. Perhaps the sealing power is meant to awaken within another Princess...” He scoffed at himself after a moment’s deep thought, “I sound like a cowardly fool.”

Urbosa uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, taking the hand that had been resting on the arm of his chair. Looking into his tired eyes, she said, “A good ruler always wishes they could reign over a time of peace. But some make the mistake of not being ready for war. You’re taking all the necessary steps. All we can do is try to prepare the best we can against an enemy we know little about.”

He squeezed her hand slightly and replied, a bit comforted, “You have always been a good friend to me as you were to my wife. Thank you.” He pulled away and stood. “I’ve no doubt that I’ll be in need of your ally ship more than ever in the coming-”

The doors to his chambers were suddenly thrust open and Zelda stood there in her white prayer robes, hair frazzled, panting. “Urbosa!” Her sandals flapped on the tiles and were then muffled on carpet as she ran into the room and wrapped her arms around the waist of the much taller Gerudo woman. Rhoam and Urbosa shared a bemused look as she returned the embrace.

Zelda looked up and asked accusingly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“And miss this glorious display of surprise?” She laughed in husky, low tones. “How else am I supposed to entertain myself after a long journey?” She smoothed Zelda’s hair as she smiled with a maternal sentiment. “Would you like to see our entry for the festival?”

“You’re entering?! Of course! Is it down in the courtyards already? I’ll have to go change first.”

“I think it’s still in our chambers until installation tomorrow, but yes, let’s get you into something more casual.” As Zelda flitted out the door, Urbosa bowed politely, “King Rhoam.”

Rhoam returned the bow with a respectful nod, “Chief Urbosa.”

Urbosa practically had to chase Zelda to catch up with her in the Grand Hall but once she strode alongside, Zelda had to try and keep pace with her long gait. They chatted about nonsensical things while in the public eye: Zelda’s studies, devotions and hobbies; Urbosa’s new sand seal, her latest public works, and her continuous bragging that the Gerudo would win the competition this year. Once they were in private, however, Urbosa intended to ask the real questions. When they arrived in Zelda’s room, she smiled politely and waited until the attendant who was dusting made her way out.

“My apologies Princess, I thought you would still be out for quite some time. I’ll come back later and give you two some privacy.” The middle aged woman adjusted her glasses, stuck the duster under her arm and scooped up her skirts in a quick curtsy before attempting to make a hasty exit.

“It’s ok Fria. Actually- before you go, do you know where my light blue spring dress is? I’d like to wear it for the festival. I haven’t worn it recently but I wonder if it’s still accidentally with the wash?”

“I’ll go check for you now, Princess. Is there anything else I can help with while I’m out?”

Zelda pondered the question as she removed her devotional jewelry, placing the pieces in their custom, blue-velvet lined cases, “Hmm. Yes! Could you please lay out my sirwal for supper this evening? I’d like to dress in honor of our wonderful guest, Gerudo Chief Urbosa.” Zelda gestured happily to Urbosa as if Fria didn’t already know she was there; she was just so excited to have her visit.

Urbosa nodded kindly when she was mentioned.

“Of course,” Fria answered. She gave another polite curtsy to them both and gently shut the big wooden door behind her.

Zelda started talking about how dinner was going to be so lovely later, and about the smaller events that would be tied to the annual art festival. As she moved about the room to change out of her prayer robe behind a dividing screen, Urbosa made her way to the large four poster bed with the elegant red drapes and sat down. She stroked the blankets, the decorative one on top was chosen by her dear friend for her baby girl when she visited Gerudo Town twelve long years ago. “How are you really Little Bird?”

Her gentle, yet stern question caused Zelda to fall silent behind her changing screen. “I’m...” She thought of her days, always full to the brim with the same repetitive classes, courtly obligations and fruitless prayers. She came out from behind the screen in her day dress, a less formal version than the elegant long-sleeved blue one she wore to court. Her eyes bore the weight of too much responsibility. “I’m tired.” She walked over to the bed and sat next to Urbosa who wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “I’m tired of having to change into numerous different attire. It’s not fair. Father has much fewer task-related outfits.”

“Hm... I know clothes aren’t the only thing on your mind.”

“Praying is still useless. I don’t understand why I have to keep doing it.”

She let out such a deep sigh that Urbosa baled her up in her lap for comfort. “I’m so sorry Zelda. I wish your mother or I had had the foresight to consider that she might not have been able to teach you.” She stroked Zelda’s hair as she felt her small body starting to shake slightly from finally letting her emotions out.

“I can learn anything else from books, why not this?” A short sob escaped her quivering lip.

“I don’t know vehvi, I wish I knew how to help. You know you can come see me anytime you need to get away from it all.”

Zelda smiled bitterly, “If I could, I would stay with you all the time.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do about getting you a much needed break during dinner. The way to get what you want is to make a good case to your father in public. That way he can’t refuse or he looks like crappy father of the year.” She wiggled her eyebrows and succeeded in eliciting some giggles out of her girl.

“Feeling a bit better already, I see,” she squeezed Zelda’s arm affectionately. “Now, shall we go and meet the others?”

Zelda nodded and hugged Urbosa tight before sliding out of her lap. “Thank you for the cuddles. They remind me of mom,” she said with a sad smile.

Urbosa stood as well, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She leaned down and gave Zelda a kiss on the forehead. “You remind me of your mom too.”

They made their way to the wing that housed the ambassadorial chambers. These were rather overtly opulent and tried a bit too hard to impress visitors in Zelda’s opinion. On the other hand, some guests had stated what a treat it was to stay in such a lavish room so it couldn’t be all that pretentious. When they entered, they found Urbosa’s entourage in varying states of relaxation and inebriation. A few of them greeted her informally, ‘Hey Chief,’ and ‘welcome back Chief.’

Zelda was intrigued by their lackadaisical manner. Urbosa saw the quizzical look on her little companion’s face. “This is a holiday, Zelda. I don’t expect anyone to be putting on airs. Being proper in court is tiresome enough.”

“I’ll say! I put on so many airs during our arrival, I nearly floated away.” The relatable sentiment came from a jovial, dark-skinned woman with dusty pink hair cut short enough that it was spiking messily all over her head, no doubt to be well out of the way while she was metalworking. She had the largest muscles Zelda had ever seen on a woman and she caught herself staring a bit in awe.

Urbosa chuckled at the joke and introduced them. “Zelda, this is Sivul, Gerudo’s finest artisan. Sivul, Princess Zelda.”

“By the sands, you look just like your mother. Such a dainty little vai.” Sivul crouched down in front of Zelda which brought her eye level, and took one of her small hands into her own in greeting.

“You knew my mother?” Zelda asked incredulously.

“Yes, Princess. She was a lovely artist. I even helped her learn how to make jewelry.” Sivul stood again and inquired with a friendly smile. “Tell me, do you have any favorite crafts?”

Zelda’s cheeks went a tad pink with embarrassment. She wished she could be more impressive. “N-no. I just study a lot, really.”

“Oh, but cultivating the mind is one of the most important crafting we can do. I have to put just as much time into myself as I do my work in order for it to be harmonious.”

One of the other women almost spat out her drink, “Oh, that’s sealshit, Siv.” She immediately became sheepish under Urbosa’s stern look, directing her to watch her mouth in front of the present company. She continued with her comment, albeit more politely, “You barely stop to eat or sleep when you get nose-deep in a project.”

“Excuse you, I do my preparation beforehand. That’s all just part of the process.” She placed her fists squarely on her wide hips and gave her detractor a withering gaze, which included a wink at the end to prove she was not actually offended. She then turned her attention back to Zelda. “Would you like to see what I brought before the unveiling tomorrow?”

Zelda lit up and nodded emphatically. “I would, yes!” She followed Sivul over to a chest that sat upon poles on the ground, ready to be easily lifted later. When Sivul waited a beat to open the lid, Zelda glanced over at her expectantly, excitement written all over her face.

Sivul laughed with an alto timbre rivaling Urbosa’s and said, “Sorry Princess, I do love building the suspense.” She unclasped the latches and opened the curved lid to reveal the most ornate and detailed sword and scabbard Zelda had ever seen. They both sat in a frame, the blade on the higher level and the scabbard below.

“Urbosa, this looks like your scimitar!”

“Yes. Sivul’s teacher crafted my blade. She has surpassed her master, something each instructor always hopes for in their students. Well, good instructors anyway.”

“I’ll definitely count my vote for you, Sivul!” Zelda exclaimed.

Sivul grinned and closed the chest. “Hey now,” she began in mock sternness, “I’ll not be having you playing favorites. You vote for it if you truly feel it is the best after seeing what everyone has to offer. They all worked very hard too.”

Zelda smiled and nodded earnestly. She then looked to Urbosa, “May I stay here with you until dinner time?”

Urbosa tackled her with another hug. “Are you kidding!? I’m not going to let you out of my sight for the rest of the day. We have too much to catch up on!”

~~~

The next morning, Urbosa had to rally her troops after they had caroused much too late into the night. She was even missing a couple, no doubt hunting for available voes... They washed with the basins of hot water delivered to their rooms and donned their sirwals, though the warriors remained in their supportive breast plates and boofy pants. After eating a quick breakfast from the fruits, nuts, breads and cheeses that came complimentary to their stay, they departed to see to the unveiling of Sivul’s scimitar.

Walking briskly, they turned heads as they passed through the halls. Even if Hylians had seen the Gerudo many times, it was hard not to marvel at their impressive physique. Their exceptional height, wide hips and toned midriffs were iconic, and admired by many, as well as the bright red hair most Gerudo shared.

In her haste, Urbosa almost led everyone astray, right past the registry room for the festival. “I could have sworn this used to be at the end of the hall...” she trailed off.

One of the exhibition organizers ran over and lead them to a small queue. “My apologies, Gerudo Chief Urbosa. You’re quite correct, we used to check everyone in down that way before but we’ve actually outgrown the space. Isn’t that wonderful? Participation has increased steadily the past few years.”

“The Queen would be so proud.”

She received a genuine smile and nod in response and was shown to the registry where she pulled Sivul out from lurking behind to do her own paperwork. Once that was all done they were taken to an available space in the courtyards that was undercover, as had been requested on their form. Quite a few sculptures they passed were on display out in the elements, while just as many it seemed, had protection. An empty pedestal awaited the sleek and simple frame that would hold the blade and scabbard. Sivul took it from the chest and held it toward Urbosa asking reverently, “Do you wish to unveil the blade, my Chief?”

Urbosa was amused and crossed her arms coyly. “This is your show Sivul, you do the honors.”

Shhhhiiinnng

Sivul drew quickly and smoothly and smirked with pleasure at the faint ring echoing afterward. It had turned heads and a small crowd gathered to watch her place the two pieces in their frame.

Urbosa heartily clapped her on the shoulder, “Well, you have fun playing Q & A with your fans. I’m going to join the Princess.”

Sivul gave her a reproachful look for being left alone to deal with the crowds but she would not begrudge her leader the free time she most definitely needed, and deserved. She then turned to one of her interested parties, a couple with an infant, who had asked how long it took.

“How long? Time is relative. How long did it take you to make that baby? This blade is my baby. Nine months?! Are you sure it’s finished? Our babies take twelve. Yes, really. I was just kidding, it took me three months- if you don’t count the gathering of materials. No, I meant the blade. Our babies still take twelve months. No, really! ...... and on and on.

Urbosa found Zelda in the castle shrine at her morning devotions. She was standing waist deep in a pool before the serenely smiling Hylia, hands clasped together, bedecked with the heirloom jewelry. Her long hair floated on the surface of the water behind her. Urbosa looked on in sadness between the statue of the Goddess and the small Hylian she supposedly inhabited. The poor girl was so devoid of comfort, never acknowledged by the one she entreated endlessly. The serene smile appeared more and more as a mocking smirk the longer she looked upon it.

Without a second thought, Urbosa silently descended the steps into the pool. As she drew near, the water rippled and made a soft swishing noise, alerting Zelda to her presence. She started to turn but Urbosa spoke softly as she sank to her knees behind the child Goddess, “Don’t let me interrupt, my vehvi.” She wrapped her arms around Zelda and held her to her chest, covering her small hands with her own and resting her cheek on the golden hair. There they stayed for an age, sending silent prayers to the Goddess together. And Zelda was comforted.

Eventually, Zelda needed to attend her classes, so with the promise that they would be together again the moment she was finished, Urbosa went for a walk to dry off and collect her thoughts. Short of taking the Princess away, something she selfishly wished she could do, she had to believe that what little she could do would be enough.

She swung by her chambers to collect some attendants. They would be cross with her if she kept parading around by herself, no matter that she was fully capable. Culture, tradition and appearances were also important. They strolled through the courtyards, viewing a section of impressive wooden sculptures from the Rito before reaching the stables. After passing by the horses, which had a similar but distinct aroma all their own from sand seals, her ears perked to the faint clangs and thumps of fighting followed by a whistle. The training grounds were nearby. She grinned to herself wondering if she would be welcome to observe.

Rounding a stone tower, they crossed an archery range to get to the main field. The area was walled on three sides and the upper levels contained viewing alcoves which would also be used for announcements. She could imagine troops being neatly lined up below, attentive to their commanders, ready to serve Hyrule. She casually joined the small throng of instructors, some of whom did a double take as she appeared next to them.

The eldest, most likely mid to late sixties, recovered first. “G-Gerudo Chief Urbosa, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” He bowed politely. “Forgive me, I’m Captain Auru. At your service.”

“I like watching a good tussle so I thought I’d have a sticky-beak with my free time. I hope I’m not intruding?” She stood casually, hip jutting out above her split skirt, making her muscled torso even more of a prominent feature.

Captain Auru stroked his goatee with mild interest at her statement. “Not at all. We’re just finishing the melee portion before moving on to duels.”

“I see. Please continue.”

He nodded and whistled for the final bout to begin. A dozen or so armored fighters wearing a white tabard with the royal crest entered the roped arena, which served to contain the battle. They carried a combination of their weapons of choice. Some preferred the classic pairing of broadsword and shield while others chose to fight with a two handed claymore or spear. Urbosa watched with interest as a smaller fighter quickly caught her eye. They carried a blade only and were so swift on their feet, they seemed to glide through the fight like water, dodging opponents so they ended up engaged with another, or parrying before back flipping out of reach.

Melees had one goal: to be the last fighter standing. How you got to that point is anyone’s choice, and a few fighters decided they wanted to work together against the slinky one.

While she was here, she had another agenda she could bring up. She deviously addressed Auru, “So Captain, do the soldiers get any time to enjoy the festival or is it all work and no play around here?”

He looked to be between distraction from the proceedings and not wanting to be rude so he leaned in slightly and spoke while still keeping an eye on the battle. “I’m not sure we’re too fussed actually. That’s more of a court and populace thing, give them a chance to come up to the castle every now and then, you know?”

“Hmm,” she replied with loose interest. She looked at the arena again just in time to see the group of four succeed in taking down their smaller competitor, though not without losing three of their number. The survivor proceeded to engage the next available opponent where they were summarily disposed of; all of their strength had relied on teamwork apparently. Not a complete negative, but one should most certainly be able to stand on their own if they were to be a competent warrior.

A loose smattering of applause rippled through the training grounds for the victor and Captain Auru blew the whistle to announce the line up for duels. The list keeper shouted for a five minute break for hydration and toilet and everyone peeled off to wherever they needed to be whether it was the privies, benches or water station.

Captain Auru excused himself momentarily to confer with the instructors and he returned with a gleam in his eye. “Chief Urbosa, my colleagues are quite excited about your presence here today. It’s not often we might get the opportunity to let the students spar against different fighting styles. I wonder, would one of your warriors be willing to step into the ring with us?”

Urbosa grinned with a glint in her eye. This was the perfect opportunity to bargain for what she wanted. If she could rustle up some votes from the soldiers, there was a good chance they’d appreciate the art of a finely crafted blade over some abstract shapes in the courtyards.

“I could be persuaded to enter the ring for a bit of fun myself, Captain.”

He and the fellow instructors responded with varying degrees of shock and excited approval.

“But I have two conditions.”

Captain Auru stroked his goatee again. “Name your price, Chief Urbosa.”

“I pick my opponent.”

“Easily done.”

“And you must give me your word that all of you will attend the festival and vote.”

He turned to look at the other instructors and was met with answers of shrugs and unopposed compliance.

“Right,” she grinned and put her hand on the pommel of the scimitar at her hip, “are there any hard rules I should know about?”

“Please don’t kill our students,” Auru jested. “Ah, the usual. Nothing below the belt. If a limb is ‘struck,’” he emphasized a simulation of it, “then that limb may not be used for the remainder of the battle.” He continued with a few more things before she put up her hand to interrupt.

“Captain, I appreciate you have a way of doing things but did you not want to see the way a Gerudo fights? Or would you have me merely demonstrate your own style to you?”

“Eh, you got me there Chief Urbosa. Right you are.” There was an awkward pause before he continued after clearing his throat. “Well then, not killing our students will work just fine. Please,” he gestured to the field, “choose your opponent.”

“I want the short one.”

“Oh, he’s just a boy still, perhaps-”

“And the most skilled of the group.”

“Uh, yes. He is quite the prodigy. Very well.”

She took to the arena and Auru sent one of the others to collect her choice. His day had gone from monotonous to suspenseful excitement and he couldn’t wait to see how this would pan out. He knew Link was starved for a challenge and he knew his class mates would love nothing more than to see him brought down. The outcome of this should suit both parties quite well no matter how it ended.

The competitors entered the arena and stood a few paces away from one another. The whole area had gone deathly quiet. Usually there was low chatter among the peanut gallery but the two opponents on the duel field today had everyone riveted.

Link saw she wore no armor and took off his helmet, chucking it out of the arena, then went down on one knee. The gesture not only humbled him, but also made him appear even smaller. Her inquisitiveness about him only rose.

“Gerudo Chief Urbosa, you honor me with your presence here today. I hope to learn much from you.”

She drew her blade, “Ha! Let’s have some fun, kid.”

Not a moment after he’d risen, Link was taken aback by her quick movements. The crowd gasped as she attacked without ceremony, lining up her scimitar to connect with his head. 

Link quickly rolled out of the way and shot up to his feet, grinning. He’d been waiting for this for so long. He was itching to really fight.

She pivoted in place, following where he’d dodged, kicking up dust as she slashed down. He parried with a surprising strength for his size but she quickly recovered and jabbed. 

He escaped with a back flip. She’d seen this move from him a few times already during his earlier bouts and anticipated what she could do next when he returned with a flurry of slashes.This boy was quick, but a bit predictable. 

That might have been due to a lack of challenging opponents. He was sussing her out, seeing what she could match. He was focused and calculating; something she did not usually see in Gerudo warriors until they were older.

Finally, she sidestepped his onslaught and rammed her knee into his chest. Link fell back in the dirt but rather than be laid bare to a potential stabbing, he used the momentum of his fall to continue in a backward somersault. He stood and regained his balance.

She gave him a short breather, knowing she’d probably winded him a little. The break was long enough for him to decide that he needed to relieve her of the shield on her back.

She nodded at him as she slowly circled a small distance away. “Crafty, aren’t you.”

Link was struck by an idea. He could try it with her, the move he’d recently discovered while training with his dad. Everyone else he had sparred with never challenged him enough to warrant using it. Would he be able to focus enough?

“Again!” she barked as she ran toward him. 

All he had to do was dodge and get behind her... just dodge, and slip past. He took a deep breath through his nose and as it left him her pace slowed before she reached him. He hopped to the side, but rather than take the opening to make a shot, he dashed around and jump kicked the shield up and off her back. He slipped it on and stood there with a smirk as she whipped around with wide eyes.

“How could you possibly-” her face morphed from surprise into a challenging grin, “much craftier than I thought.” She twirled her blade twice in excitement as she tried to work out what he’d done.

Even with just that small bit of practice, he felt he could put everything into his next move. He had always been exceptional at parrying blows, even more so with a shield. However, she now spoke again instead of attacking as had been the pattern of the battle so far. 

“Why don’t you come at me for a change?” She stood at the ready, a bend in her knee, curved blade held in a relaxed grip, ready to react to his move.

He had to rethink his approach now. His technique had been defensive, but he now knew where he could improve. This was the perfect time to try his attack a different way, see if he could succeed on the offense. 

“Hah!” he kicked the gravel out behind him as he lunged forward, watching her weapon arm closely. As he closed in, Link lost focus and they exchanged blows once more. To avoid another knee to the chest, he flipped out of reach before trying again.

She almost lost sight of him as he came for her a second time. How is he doing that!? She blocked his strike just in time and noticed his disappointment. 

He was testing a new technique on her. A wry smile spread from the corner of her mouth and she felt momentarily flattered. She wasn’t going to let him have all the fun though. It was time to show him he still had a long way to go, if only to keep him on his toes rather than bored with their current gawking audience. 

The side lines were full of wide eyes and gaping mouths as she pinned the tip of his blade into the sand with a swirling down-thrust of her scimitar. Before he could recover she grabbed the shield he’d stolen with her other hand to keep him close and used it as a conductor for her own final move.

His hair stood on end and he was ejected several feet away when she ran her electricity through his body. It wasn’t nearly enough to cause serious injury but it had certainly ended the fight. She was met with a wave of gasps but shrugged them off as she approached him. “Relax, he’s just a little toasty.” 

She reached a hand down and he grasped her wrist firmly, letting her easily pull him to his feet. “You alright, kid?” 

He hung on for a tick as he gained his balance in the midst of a sway before looking at her dead serious and asking, “Can you teach me that?”

She burst into a husky laugh. “I’m afraid that attack is a one of a kind specialty.” She leaned in closer to say privately, “But you keep it up with those moves you were pulling, you’ll no doubt be going places.”

[the-badger-mole]

Date Night

Zuko was annoyed. He couldn’t say why, but he had been in a terrible mood for three days. His uncle had spent that whole time watching him slyly over his teacup and chuckling to himself. Finally, Zuko had had enough..

“What is it?” he snapped. Iroh just smiled blithely. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Fire Lord Zuko,” he said in a tone that suggested he knew exactly what his nephew meant. 

“Why do you keep laughing at me?” Zuko demanded. He paced the room, trying to release some of the unaccountable energy he felt burning in his chest. 

“You’re getting paranoid, my nephew.” Iroh took a delicate sip of his tea as Zuko snorted derisively. 

“It’s not paranoia if I’m right.” He paced the floor a few more times, and then abruptly stopped to face his uncle. “What are you doing here anyway? Isn’t this the day you visit your flower buddies at the tea shop?” 

“I thought you could use some company tonight,” Iroh shrugged. “Since our dear ambassador won’t be able to join you.” Zuko blanched at that, scowled, and began to pace again.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “I’m fine! I don’t need to be babysat.”

“One would hope not,” Iroh observed sagely. “Still, at my age, I’ll look for any excuse to spend time with my favorite nephew.” Zuko almost pointed out that he was Iroh’s only nephew, but decided against it. He refused to play the old man’s game. 

“Some other time, Uncle,” Zuko huffed. “I’m not in the mood.” 

“And why is that, I wonder,” Iroh hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his porcelain cup. 

“Whatever,” Zuko grumbled. “Fine! Stay if you want to. I have work I need to get done.” “Has Ambassador Katara left already with her gentleman caller?” 

“Her what?”  Zuko rounded on Iroh, face contorted with disgust. “Why do you always have to put things in the weirdest-” Zuko was cut off by a knock at the door. Before either man could answer, it swung open and Katara walked in carrying an armful of clothes. 

“I need help!” she announced, dumping the pile on an empty chair. “Oh! Hi, Iroh. Maybe you can help, too.”

“What is it you need, my dear?” Iroh asked kindly. Zuko scowled at his uncle. Katara didn’t seem to notice. Her mind was otherwise occupied.

“Tohru is going to be here in twenty minutes, and I still have no idea what to wear!” Katara groaned, clearly irritated with herself. “It was simpler when I only had a couple changes of clothes. I would just wear whatever smelled the least bad.”

“Barbaric,” Zuko scoffed. Katara spun towards him, eyes flashing dangerously. Zuko swallowed hard, but kept his ground. 

“You watch your mouth!” she said. “Don’t forget, I’ve washed your socks, too. You have no room to talk!” Iroh set his tea aside and stood between the pair. 

“Please forgive my nephew’s rudeness,” he said. “I’m sure you smelled as lovely then as you do tonight. Why don’t you show us what your options for this evening are?” Katara stuck her tongue out at Zuko before turning her attention back to her clothes. 

“I’ve narrowed it down to three choices,” she explained. She held up the first outfit, a navy blue sari with gold trim. There were flowers embroidered on the drape, some in the same gold thread as the trim, some white, some red.

“Stunning!” Iroh exclaimed.”Isn’t she stunning, Zuko?” Zuko had to reluctantly agree, but of course Katara looked good in blue. That was her signature color. Her whole tribe’s signature color. 

“Okay,” Katara said, switching to the next option. “What about this one?” She held up a crimson yukata to herself. It was also covered in flowers, though these were a pattern, and not embroidery. Red looked good on Katara, too, Zuko observed. It set off the dusky brown of her skin in a way that brought out the shades of gold and bronze in her coloring. She made Zuko think of summer in human form. Then he wondered why this Tohru was worth all of this effort. After a moment, Zuko realized that both Katara and Iroh were looking at him expectantly. They were waiting for him to say something. 

“It’s...nice,” he said.

“Just nice?” Katara pressed. Zuko’s face twisted into a scowl. 

“Yes, nice!” he said irritably. “What else do you want me to say?” 

“Whatever.” Katara just rolled her eyes at his outburst and moved on to her last outfit. This one was also a yukata- fuschia silk with no sleeves. The color seemed to make Katara glow unnaturally in the early evening sun. Even her already striking blue eyes seemed even more strikingly blue set against the fabric. Zuko swallowed hard against his suddenly dry throat.

“They’re all so lovely on you,” Iroh said, shaking his head helplessly.. “I truly can’t decide. I wish I could be more help.” Katara sighed and tried very valiantly not to roll her eyes at the old man. 

“What about you, Zuko?” she asked. Zuko tried to hide a sudden blush rising in his cheeks. 

“Um...the last one was...that’s probably the one you should go with,” he stammered. “It...it brings out your eyes.” Zuko was distinctly aware of his uncle’s shrewd eyes boring into the side of his head, but he ignored it as he watched Katara examine the choice. After a moment she nodded. 

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go with that. Thanks for the help, you guys!” Zuko watched her almost bounce out of the room. Iroh came up beside him and cleared his throat. 

“She won’t ever know for sure how you feel if you don’t tell her,” Iroh said. “I wouldn’t wait too long. I hear that Tohru is quite a fellow.” Zuko couldn’t find the energy to retort or even scowl at his uncle’s assessment. 

“I have work to do,” Zuko said shortly. “You’ll have to entertain yourself tonight.” Iroh held back a chuckle until Zuko had left the room. 

“Ah, young romance,” he sighed. 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.

As hard as he tried- and he really did try- Zuko couldn’t focus on the work he needed to get done. He kept looking at the clock on his office wall. Katara had been gone for four hours. How long did dinner and a show take, he wondered. He didn’t remember it being so long when he was dating Mai. Yet the night dragged on without any hint of Katara. Eventually, Zuko decided to move his work out into the common room. Katara would have to pass through it to get to her rooms. Zuko could catch her on her way and ask her about her night. But twenty minutes later, Katara was still not home. Zuko folded his arms across his chest. It just wasn’t responsible for a diplomat to be out at all hours of the night. 

Maybe she and Tohru (who was quite a fellow) had hit it off so well that they had decided to elope. The thought caused his stomach to drop uncomfortably. Zuko shook his head to clear it away almost immediately. Katara was impulsive sometimes, but never that impulsive. 

Maybe Tohru was really a predator and he was just trying to get Katara alone so he could strike. Zuko was already reaching for the hidden drawer where he kept his Blue Spirit mask, but stopped himself. Even if Tohru was a low-life, bottom feeding miscreant, but Zuko had glimpsed him when he picked Katara up for their...date. If it came down to a fight, Zuko was confident Katara would defeat him easily. 

But what if he had led her into an ambush? Zuko froze, his hand halfway from the hidden compartment. He had made sure Katara was carrying a water skin when she left, but would it be enough against a group of attackers? That night was a new moon, when her powers were at their weakest. If there was a time to lure Katara into a trap, it was that night...

“Welcome back, my dear!” Zuko heard his uncle’s voice from the main hallway, and he sprang across the room in one bound. He cracked the door open slightly and saw Katara talking to his uncle looking a bit tired, but otherwise unharmed. She certainly didn’t look like she had been fighting off hoards of attackers. Or even one. Her hair was still neatly in place, and her clothes only slightly wrinkled. Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have to hunt down Katara’s date, it seemed. 

“I’m kind of tired,” Katara told Iroh. “I’ll tell you all about the play over tea tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it,” Iroh agreed, delightedly. Katara started to turn towards the common room, and Zuko quietly shut the door and bounded across the room again. He jumped onto the sofa and shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Katara slipped in and crept over towards the couch. Through his eye lashes, Zuko saw Katara lean over and smile down at him fondly. She leaned in and Zuko tilted his head up slightly, anticipating her lips on his forehead. Instead, Katara yanked the pillow from under his head unceremoniously. 

“Get up,” she ordered. “I saw the door closing.” Zuko sprang up, sputtering his innocence, but Katara just shoved his legs off of the couch and sat down next to him. 

“Um...” Zuko cleared his throat nervously. “How...how was your date?” He watched from he corner of his eye as Katara unpinned her hair and let the dark waves cascade down her back. 

“It was okay,” Katara sighed. “Not amazing, but Tohru was nice.” That piqued Zuko’s interest.

“Nice?” he repeated. “Just nice?” Katara shrugged and pulled her feet onto the couch beneath her.

“Well, he was a little boring, to be honest,” she admitted. “He kind of made me carry the whole conversation. Maybe it was nerves, but...” Katara rolled her eyes. 

“Oh...” Zuko folded his hands in his lap and stared at the pattern in the rug beneath the sofa. “Do you...um...do you think you’ll see him again?”

“I don’t know,” Katara shrugged. “Maybe. He did ask me out again. We’ll see I guess.” With a sigh, Katara stood up, and ran her hands through her hair. Iroh’s words from earlier that evening echoed through Zuko’s head. Gathering his nerve he, stood up, too. 

“Hey, Katara?” 

“Yeah?” She looked up at Zuko curiously. Even the the relatively dim light of the torches, the fuschia silk made Katara’s eyes almost unfairly beautiful as they watched Zuko expectantly. 

“I was just wondering,” Zuko hemmed. “Would you...would you like to have dinner with me sometime? I mean, just you and me. Outside of the palace maybe?” Katara blinked those unfair eyes at him in surprise. 

“You mean...like a date?” she asked. Zuko felt all of the blood in his entire body rush to his face. Three years of ruling a country, and he still felt like an awkward school boy talking to women.

No, not women, he corrected himself. Just Katara.

“It...it doesn’t have to be,” Zuko said. “I mean, we can just go as friends. But I would be okay if you were okay with it being...you know not a friend thing.” Katara stared up at him, her brow drawn in...Zuko wasn’t sure what. Confusion? Disgust? Horror? Suddenly, he felt the urge to run. And so he did. 

“You know what?” he back tracked as fast as he could away from Katara. “Forget I said anything. Seriously. I’m just...tired. I should go...” Zuko had his hand on the door leading to his rooms halfway turned when Katara’s voice stopped him.

“Zuko?” she called him quietly. Zuko forced himself to turn and look at her. Katara had a shy smile on her face, and there was a slight blush tinging her cheeks. “I’d...um...I’d be okay with having dinner with you. Not as friends.” Zuko stared at her for a long moment, uncertain whether this was a dream or a hallucination. But Katara rolled her eyes after a moment and Zuko realized this was in fact reality. He wouldn’t have imagined Katara’s annoyance just then. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips. Zuko’s mouth split into a wide grin. Katara’s mouth twitched a bit, as she tried not to copy him. 

“I really like that color on you,” Zuko said. Then he turned and walked through the door, already certain he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. He had a date to plan.