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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Сhapter 6

Life had never been particularly kind to Hange Zoe. Tragedies and heartbreaks followed her ever since the day she was born – kicking, screaming and nearly killing her own mother. Her mother never recovered from that blow, her health diminishing while vexation with her own child grew.

That day gave a start to Hange’s life – and to the endless stream of misfortunes she had to face.

Those misfortunes frequented, the amount of bad days increased as Hange was becoming older. But even as a child, driven solely by curiosity and fascination for the world, uncaring of the workings and the rules of the society around her, she had her fair share of frustrations. They usually appeared when her father was around – luckily, due to the nature of his work, he very rarely was. Hange didn’t know her father well, he was always absent, always somewhere else, doing something incredibly important, shaping the future of their country. He was many things - a leader, soldier, hero. But he was not a father. Hange had but a few memories of him, and after all these years she had forgotten the sound of his voice, couldn’t for the life of her remember if his hair was as brown as her own, or had she inherited that vivid color from her mother. But what Hange could never forget, what was etched into her memory for all eternity was the look in his eyes – full of incomprehension, bewilder, disappointment – that he always aimed at her. No matter what she did – excitedly gushed about her studies, showed him a shiny rock she found or urged to go and see the frog she caught, her father had the same reaction, always told her the same thing,

“I expected better from you, Hange.”

Those words were the first dagger that was buried in her chest. But it was far from being the only one.

Her father died before she reached her eleventh birthday. And despite the mourning clothes mother had forced her to wear, despite the endless eulogies she had to sit through, Hange didn’t feel the same sadness that everyone around her did, she didn’t – couldn’t – share their pain or understand their grief. Her father meant something for all those people, but to her he was just a stranger, an unpleasant one at that. When he died, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Without him, it was so much easier to breathe.

But her sorrows, her frustrations— sadly, they didn’t end with her father’s death.

Once Hange finished her studies, completed her training, she was sent to the outside world, far away from Marley. And for a moment, for one fleeting moment, she was happy, excited to do what she always wanted – learn and explore. But she was not meant to busy herself with research, to familiarize herself with different cultures, she was sent to these distant lands as a soldier, a weapon of great Marleyan Empire. Instead of books and quills, she held a rifle and a knife. And the only thing she learnt was how much blood her motherland was spilling on the foreign soils.

Sleep was coming harder to her after that, her dreams were haunted by visions of red, by screams of pain and anguish. She had become a soldier, her hands made for creation were now covered in blood. Her brilliant mind was now broken by the horrors she had faced.

And so Hange decided to cover herself in thick armor, to hide behind a smile and false happiness. The bad days persisted, losses following after her like a shadow, chasing like an infatuated lover, but she didn’t let it break her, continued moving forward with her chin raised high and her lips curled up.

However, despite the positive attitude she had adopted, there were lots of days Hange considered bad, awful even – the day when she learned just how Titans were created, what price Eldians had to pay for that; the day when she realized that her teacher, brilliant Tom Ksaver was one of those so called shifters, that his days in this world would end abruptly; the day when she received her first wound and spent the night in infirmary, wallowing in pain; the day when she killed another human for the first time and saw the light fading from someone else’s eyes; the day when Wall Maria fell and she witnessed just how much destruction and devastation she helped to bring to this little island; the day when Mike and Nanaba died; the day when her squad perished; the day when she had to leave Paradis behind; the day when she was brought back.

There were lots of days Hange considered to be bad. But nothing – absolutely nothing – could compare to the fucking shit show that was waiting for her next.

___

This fateful day was off to a good, if only slightly weird, start. As always she was woken up by a knock on the door. However, this one was very different from Moblit’s – less rhythmic, and much louder. In fact, it didn’t sound like a knock at all, more like someone was kicking the door repeatedly.

Confused and still sleepy, Hange rolled from the bed and went to greet her guest, not bothering to put her glasses on. Behind the now opened door she found… a shape that could or could not belong to a human. She raised her hand, mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and darted back inside the room, blindly searching for her glasses.

Once the specs took their rightful place on the bridge of her nose, Hange returned back to the shape that now took the form of a young, blonde man. She trailed her gaze down, to the tray he was holding. There were plates with pastries, omelet, sandwiches, sausages and a cup with brown liquid that had steam coming out of it.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke through her confusion, “But do I know you?”

“Not… yet?”

Hange couldn’t understand if his words were meant to be an affirmation or a question. Nevertheless, she took a step back, letting him in.

He went straight to setting up the table, humming under his breath as he did so. Hange watched him work, not knowing how to feel – puzzled or amused. She tried to catch the boy’s gaze and ask for his name, but, considering the amount of food he brought and how exquisitely delicious it looked, Hange already had a pretty solid guess about the persona of her visitor.

“Be my guest,” he gestured to the table after he finished setting it. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “My name is Niccolo.”

“I guessed it already,” Hange smiled, taking a seat. Her stomach growled, as the delicious smell of homemade food entered her nostrils, her mouth filling with saliva even before she took a fork in her hands. She forced herself to look away from the food, however, directing her eyes at the man who had prepared it all. “Thank you for the food, but may I ask what is the occasion?”

Niccolo didn’t answer right away. He took his time, dragging the chair to sit on the other side of the table, then absentmindedly fixing the napkin and pushing the plate closer to Hange.

She didn’t urge him, patiently waiting for him to start talking. She had a feeling that whatever he came here to tell her was going to be extremely interesting.

And Niccolo didn’t disappoint.

“I’ve spent most of my life hating Eldians. Like every good, conscious Marleyan, I believed them to be devils and abominations. When these people captured me I thought it’d be better to die than live among them. But then I’ve got to know them better, I cooked for them, I’ve talked with them, I… grew to like some of them.”

He took a pause, and Hange used this moment to push some food into her mouth. Just as she expected – it was finger-liking good. And it tasted even better, because she also had an intriguing story she could listen to while eating.

“And there is one person that I like most of all, more than anyone I had ever met. I’ve realized my feelings long ago - perhaps, they were born the moment that I set my eyes on her, perhaps, it was destiny that brought both of us together. And to think of it – a Marleyan and an Eldian. If someone had told me years ago that I’d fall for a devil from Paradis, I’d probably punch that person in the face, but look at me now…”

A Marleyan and an Eldian? Hange had heard that story before. Hopefully, Niccolo’s would have a happier ending.

“I wanted to confess to Sasha for a while now, but the time was never right, and I kept stalling… You know, I thought there was no reason to be hasty. but then Jean told me what happened during the attack on Liberio, how I almost lost Sasha and my chance to tell her how I truly feel, so…” Niccolo looked Hange in the eyes, his gaze shining with the love he had for Sasha. “I came to say thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Oh, what a sweetheart. Hange felt her chest warm at the sight of such devotion. She always was a sucker for a young, tender love.

“And?” she leaned over the table, eyes alight with curiosity. “What did Sasha say? She returned your feelings, right?”

“Um.” Niccolo brought a hand to his neck, rubbing the back of it. “I didn’t do it, didn’t, eh, confess. Yet.”

“And when—”

“Today,” he said, confidence returning to his voice. “I planned a dinner for Sasha, invited her family and friends. Actually… I wanted to invite you as well.”

Despite regret that spread through her, Hange curled her lips in a comforting, gentle smile. “Not the best idea, but I appreciate the thought. And,” she added, her smile turning into a cheeky grin. “I’ll be expecting another visit from you, where you’ll share all the details.”

Hange wished she could see it for herself – Niccolo standing before Sasha red in the face, stuttering his undoubtedly sweet confession, Sasha gasping, with her mouth opening in shock, their audience watching it all with a mix of mortification and amusement. Hange wished she could have the privilege of being the part of that audience, alongside a certain Captain, who would cringe horribly at the scene, unfolding before their eyes.

Hange wished— for many things. Alas…

“I’m sure your plan will work out perfectly, but just in case,” Hange winked, snickering, when she saw red spread through Niccolo’s cheeks. “Good luck.”

“Knowing Sasha’s friends… I’ll need all the luck I can get. But for now, I also need to get going, the dinner won’t prepare itself. So thank you once again.” Niccolo stood up, bowing his head. “For everything.”

“Make Sasha happy, that’s all the thanks I need.”

Niccolo nodded, showing her a smile. He headed to the door, and just before he left the room, Hange gave him thumbs up, wishing him luck once more.

As the door behind him closed, she slumped back in the chair and continued munching on her breakfast, a blissful expression appearing on her face.

So… not only a great cook, but also a romantic? Sasha was such a lucky girl.

___

Her next visitors were just as unexpected, and their conversation - a lot less pleasant. It was in that moment that Hange started to suspect that this day would take its rightful place in the collection of her awful ones. But she was far from knowing just how horrible it had the potential to become.

The moment that Armin tumbled inside the room without knocking, throwing the door open in his haste, and Mikasa trailed after him, her pace much slower but just as unsure, dread settled in Hange's stomach.

"Hange-san!" Armin was speaking in a quiet, but barely controlled voice. His chest moved rapidly, as he struggled to keep his breathing slow and even. Hange swallowed her worry, her thoughts running at a lighting speed. What could possibly have happened to make him so panicked? She chanced a look at Mikasa - the young girl wore the same guarded expression she always did, but her eyes kept shifting from side to side, hands clasped together tight enough to make her knuckles white. "We need to talk."

Hange gave them a cautious nod and stood up from the bed, the book she was reading moments ago all but forgotten now. Pieck's warning was loud in her mind, as her fear grew. Marley... they couldn't have attacked so swiftly, right?

Hange gestured for her guests to take their seats at the table that stood near the window. Absentmindedly, she wondered where Moblit was. He didn't show his face to her even once this day. What could he be so busy with?

"Your guard told us that you had a visitor today," Armin stiffly began. "Mind telling us who that was?"

Hange frowned, cocking her head to the side. If the guard told Armin about the visitor, didn't she also mention that it was Niccolo? The cooking boy had to be known around the barracks, if he was that close to Sasha.

"Niccolo came by, he wanted—"

"You mean, Marleyan came by." Armin corrected.

"Sasha's and your friend, if I understood properly," Hange protested.

"But he's Marleyan. Just like you."

So, Armin was accusing her. And not only her, but Niccolo too. Accusing them of conspiring, but for what purpose? By which means? Against who? Hange was so confused. Hange didn't understand. Armin was always so rational, so coolheaded. What could possibly make him so frantic? What drove him to such desperation, to such wild guesses?

"Armin..." any other time, with any other person who trusted her just a fraction more, Hange would have taken their hand in hers. She'd caress it gently, try to calm them down, but in Armin's state... Hange worried that it'd make matters even worse. "Armin," she repeated, lowering her voice ever so slightly, making it sound more trustworthy. "What happened?"

Armin didn't answer, lowering his eyes - in shame or indecisiveness, Hange couldn't guess. And so Mikasa took the word.

"Chief Zacklay is dead," she said. And if that wasn't mind-blowing enough, she added, "Eren escaped from the prison."

"Fuck."

What else was there to say? Everything was turned on its head - Paradis' biggest defender seemingly had gone completely off the rails. Hange wondered if the threat of Marley invasion was still the scariest crisis the island would have to face. The absence of the clear answer was… unnerving.

“We don’t know what to do, or where to look for Eren. That’s why… Armin hopes that you’ll shed some light on that.”

Armin hopes – an interesting choice of words. He didn’t think, didn’t speculate, didn’t hypothesize. He hoped – exhibited a desperate, illogical kind of feeling. So… it was that bad, huh?

“I know nothing about it.” Hange said truthfully. “As you’re aware I’m not even allowed to leave this room.”

“We know.” Mikasa agreed softly, pressing her hand to Armin’s. “But it’s hard to come to terms with it.”

“He is your friend.”

Hange didn’t understand what they were going through, she never had someone that close to her destroy the trust between them, but she knew it wasn’t easy. Eren had changed, Eren had already lied to them once, but he was their friend, they’ve spent years, believing him and in him. They couldn’t change their opinion of him in just one night, they couldn’t let a few mistakes kill what they had created over the course of their lives.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how her friends felt. Was it just as hard to believe in her betrayal? Did Moblit and Levi feel just as lost and unsure? Were they just as desperate to come up with a reason for her behavior? Whatever they did, whatever they felt, Hange hoped she would never have to learn about it. She was miserable enough as it was.

But Eren knew what his friends were going through, had to be aware of the consequences of his actions, of what he was doing to his friends, how much he was hurting them. What drove him to his decision then? What happened to the boy with bright eyes and big heart?

“Do you have any idea what Eren is going to do?”

“I don’t think it’s Eren’s doing, Zeke is probably lying to him, but…” his eyes were still cast down, his finger weakly tracing some vague shapes, when Armin muttered, “Hange-san… do you by any chance know what rumbling is?”

Hange froze. Her throat constricted acutely, creating a quiet, choking sound. For one second, one terrifying second her heart stopped, ceasing its usual rhythm.

Rumbling? Did she hear correctly? Was Armin speaking the truth, did he mean what Hange was worried he meant?

Rumbling.

A short, but scary word. One that was mentioned in but a few frowned upon books. One that was only whispered amongst the members of Titan Society, too horrifying to speak it loud and clear. The word that meant death, the end of everything they knew about their world.

“We were meant to experiment with it,” Armin explained, wriggling his hands. “Nothing too serious, nothing too… devastating. Just a showcase of the power we yield, to keep the other nations on their toes. To keep them away from us. But ever since Zeke had appeared, Eren became so…”

Even since Zeke had appeared, Eren had decided to act on his own, distanced himself from his comrades and friends, joined forces with his brother. Hange would have believed, would have been convinced that the boy she once knew was incapable of such cruelty…

But Liberio, the heart of her homeland was standing in ruins. And it was Eren’s doing.

She narrowed her eyes, gave a scrutinizing look first to Armin, then to Mikasa. Hange really, really hoped that she was wrong. Against all sense, she hoped that they would drive away her doubts, that Eren’s closest friends knew him much more intimately than she ever could, that their opinion of him was right and just.

“Do you think he is capable of proceeding with it?”

“No,” Armin answered.

And the same time Mikasa said, “Yes.”

Yes, said the girl, who was in love with Eren, who was devoted to him above anything or anyone else. She said yes, spoke it quietly, in pained voice. But without a shadow of a doubt.

Hange shuddered.

She— they had to stop this. Somehow. Anyhow. Before it was too late.

"Eren can't activate the rumbling on his own," Hange mused out loud, biting at her thumb.

"Right," Armin confirmed. "He needs the bearer of the royal blood."

And that was good, that meant not all hope was lost. To go through with the rumbling, Eren had to find Zeke, and Zeke was out in the woods with Levi. He would never get away from Levi, and so the world was safe, but—

Zeke wasn't the only one with special blood. There was also—

Fuck.

"Historia, where is she?"

Armin's eyes widened, a gasp escaping him as he came to the same conclusion as Hange. "She arrived in the town... This morning."

And that was the morning Eren decided to make his escape. Hardly a coincidence.

"You don't think..." Armin began tentatively, his eyes pleading Hange to say that it was a joke, that she was wrong in her assumptions. She wished she could give him that reassurance.

"I don't know."

She didn't know what Eren's plan was, what was his goal, what was Zeke’s role in all of this. She didn't know what means Eren would use to ensure his success.

Would he go to his brother, would he trust him enough? Or would he go to Historia and risk hurting his friend?

And how Eren would get to them? Both Zeke and Historia were heavily guarded - Zeke as the hostage, Historia as a Queen and a future mother. But who was the easiest target?

With Levi being in charge of Zeke, Historia was an obvious choice, unless—

Hange swallowed heavily.

Unless Zeke was planning something too - some rouse, or a play, something that would fool Levi, make him lose his focus.

Make him lose Zeke.

And if that worked—

"Where is Historia?" Hange repeated that question. Hidden in the forest, theoretically, Levi was safe. He could hold his own in a fight against Zeke, Hange has seen him do just that in Liberio, even if some part of it was a spectacle. She also had seen Zeke after Shiganshina, personally tended to his wounds that refused to heal properly because of the amount of his injuries. Back then, every hiss of his was like a melody to Hange, a miniscule payback for the carnage he had born.

Zeke was far away from Eren, guarded by Levi. Hange had to trust him with that task. She had to hold onto hope that Levi would be safe. But Historia... Historia was another matter. She was here, close, and as good as her security was, they were not on par with humanity's strongest. They had to protect the Queen first.

"Historia chose this day to arrive because of Niccolo's invitation. She's probably in his restaurant, along with the others." Mikasa said.

So she wasn't alone, surrounded by soldiers and friends. Would that be enough to hold off Eren? Possibly, although, Hange wasn't sure.

But Eren was not alone, he had followers, the ones Moblit was so worried about. Would they be just as amicable? Would they not hurt the ones Eren cared so much about?

"Historia is our main priority. We have to go to the restaurant and make sure that—"

"We?" Armin interrupted.

Hange deflated. Of course, how could she forget? She wasn't their superior, their commander, their friend. There was no we. She was an outsider. She always were.

"I didn't mean to—"

"No." Mikasa curtly said. "We need you, Hange-san. We do," she repeated to Armin, who was already opening his mouth with a protest on his tongue. "We need all the help that we can get."

Armin studied Mikasa for a moment, then turned to face Hange, regarding her pensively. The intense look of his big blue eyes was unnerving, almost impossible to hold without flinching. There was a man Hange once knew with the same intent gaze. Oh, how she wished to see him again. He'd know what to do in a shitty ordeal they were facing right now.

"You're right," Armin sighed at last. "We might not have same goals or even enemies... but our concerns align. With you on our side, our chances are much higher. So, Hange Zoe," Armin offered his hand for a handshake. "Will you help us?"

An unlikely alliance then, huh? Hange could work with that.

She shook his hand with a smile.

___

Something was turning, twisting inside Hange on the way to the restaurant. Even the air seemed stiff, the landscape outside of the carriage bright, pretty but ominous all the same. Liberio - her city - looked just as lively before it got crushed.

And today, right now, she couldn't get that image out of her mind. The streets she walked through hundreds, thousands of times; bakeries she visited day after day; parks and playgrounds she admired from afar - everything was now gone, turned into debris, into nothing but broken stone and crushed glass.

And all of it - all the destruction, pain and blood and death - all of it was a courtesy of one Eren Yeager, the boy with bright eyes and passionate soul.

Would the same thing happen to another city? To all the cities in the world? To hundreds and millions of—

Hange took a deep breath, stopping herself before she screamed in fury, ripped something apart, overturned the carriage, or worse - started crying.

No. Nothing of the sort would happen to the other countries or their people. They would stop this— this catastrophe and Eren, and Zeke, and whoever else was involved. They would not allow another tragedy.

In the meanwhile, Hange did her damnest to focus on small, trivial things - the inside of the carriage, the bumps on the road, the subtle similarities between Mikasa and Levi, the sunbeam playing across Armin's face - anything to keep her mind from other, much scarier things. It didn’t really work.

"We are here," Armin announced, cutting through her morbid thoughts. He put a hand on her elbow - a tentative, but heartfelt gesture. Hange wondered just how disturbed she must have seemed to earn it.

"Let's go," she shook off all the worries, all of her fears. They weren't needed. They would slow her down, serve as a distraction, nuisance. And today, she had to be on her best. "We have no time to spare."

Mikasa and Armin seemed to be of the same opinion, and so the three of them left the carriage and started moving towards restaurant's entrance.

The place was much bigger than Hange had imagined it to be. She expected to see something small, but snug, something homely. But Niccolo's restaurant was grander than most buildings on Paradis. It didn't quite reach the luxurious and exquisite nature of restaurants in Marley, but— clearly, that was Niccolo's inspiration.

The restaurant - as big as it was - was packed, the merry sounds of laughter were heard even from the courtyard. People were celebrating, people came here to have some fun. Hange knew just how rare those instances were. And she hated being the one to put a stop to it. But she'd rather ruin someone's day and be wrong about her assumption or ruin someone's say and be right, than— Than not ruin someone's day, be right and waste precious time.

The three of them walked through the dark brown door, and instantly Niccolo stood in front of them, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

"Armin, Mikasa! I didn't think you'd make it! And you brought Hange with you!”

The happiness on his face was so endearing, so genuine. Hange was wrecked with sympathy for him. Niccolo was just a boy, who loved a girl, and decided that today of all days he'd make his feelings known. Unfortunately, the day he had picked turned out to be one of Hange's bad ones.

"Congratulations once again," Hange made sure to put on an extra gentle smile, in vain hope that it would soothe the effect of her next words. "But that's not why we are here."

"No?" the happiness was gone from Niccolo's face, suspicion overtaking it, but only for a second. Next came anger. "I thought we were over this," he leveled, glaring at Armin. "I thought we've already discussed everything you wanted. And I'm not going to deal with this bullshit again. Not today."

Niccolo whirled around, his leg raised to, no doubt, dramatically storm out. Mikasa's gravelly voice and a tight grip on his wrist stopped him. "If you don't want to ruin this day for Sasha, then take us to Queen Historia. Right now."

Oh. Even Hange felt shivers at that tone of voice, and the threat wasn't even directed at her. Was Levi teaching her his tricks? Or was every Ackerman just naturally good at being so scary?

Niccolo yanked his hand out of Mikasa's grasp, massaging it with a wounded expression. He didn't try to argue once again, though. And soon Hange, Armin and Mikasa were following after him to the banquet hall.

He took them through the lengthy hallway, past kitchen and washing room. At the edge of it, Hange could see two familiar figures - one tall, another short. They were standing next to a wooden cupboard, snickering quietly to each other. As they came closer, Hange realized that Jean and Connie were holding several bottles of wine, clearly having trouble choosing which one to open.

"Niccolo!" Connie yelled out, waving the bottles over his head. "Which one is better?"

"That's not for you, you idiots!" Niccolo snatched the bottles from their hands, his retort vicious— and more shaken than the situation truly called for. Any other day, Hange would have found it weird, would have paid more attention to it. Any day, but not during her bad day.

So she shrugged it off and after giving Jean and Connie a painfully awkward wave, continued following after Niccolo.

Once they were inside, Hange couldn't help but marvel at the amount of people gathered. There were lots of civilians, none of which Hange could recognize. And among them, there was a sea of green, representing the members of Survey Corps. Most of these faces were known to her. One of those faces in particular swiftly left the conversation he was having, gluing himself to her side.

"Hange-san? Armin? What is going on?"

Moblit had his mouth open, his eyes shifting between the three of them. Hange didn't know what he had seen there, what face she was making, but Moblit didn't ask another question, silently falling in step with them.

Sensing the change in the room, Jean and Connie hurried to do the same.

They all stopped in front of the table in the corner - one near the window and with a nice bouquet standing on it. The table was occupied by two - giggling Sasha, who was retelling some story in a rather animated fashion, and Historia, who listened to her friend with a joyful smile.

Looking at her, Hange couldn't help but be amazed. Last time she saw the girl, she had just become a Queen, still doubtful and unsure in her position. And, although, the woman before her eyes didn't look exactly royally – what, with her simple dress and long, loose hair - but Historia had certainly grown, become tougher, more confident in her abilities. However, she was still as pretty as a picture, and the motherhood had enhanced her beauty even further.

"Your Majesty," Hange was the first to take the word, but after that she faltered, not sure how to proceed further. Should she bow? Kneel before the Queen?

She was spared from making that decision. Because right in that moment, right when she was meaning to open her mouth and explain everything to Historia as curtly as was possible— her day turned from simply bad to straight up shitty.

"You!"

Familiar voice. The anger in it wasn't unusual too. Never before it was directed at her but—

Hange recognized the pride of Marley, the future Warrior right away. It was all she was allowed to do before getting promptly tackled to the ground.

"Traitor! Liar! How could you do that to us! How could you side with the devils?"

Gabi kicked and punched anything she could reach, accentuating her every word and accusation, but the blows were barely registered by Hange. She felt no pain, only huge amount of relief.

Gabi was furious, Gabi was loud. Gabi was alive and well.

A month, a whole month she spent worrying about these kids, only to have fate throw them back together in the most ludicrous way possible.

“Gabi,” despite her kicks, despite her loud shrieks, Hange smiled happily. She pulled the girl closer, wrapping one arm around her, while her other went to softly brush the girl’s hair. “Gabi, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“And why would you care?” Gabi suddenly sniffled, voice muffled by Hange’s shirt. “You never cared about us, did you? Only about those devils!”

“Gabi…” Hange sighed, finding herself at a loss of words. How could she explain something so complicated? Something she couldn’t understand herself?

Luckily, an unexpected help arrived.

"Don’t judge too harshly, child. You may not understand it yet, but humans' hearts are tricky things. No rules apply to them, they never listen to reason. They don't act like we want them to. They create emotions, make our lives brighter, and at the same time... So much more confusing. And accusing someone of caring for the wrong person… it’s just not right."

Hange looked up, surprised to see a middle-aged man standing before her. She was fairly sure that she had never met him before, but his eyes, his manner of speaking... Somehow, they were familiar.

Before she could connect the dots, however, her attention was ripped away once more, this time by Niccolo's deep voice.

"Eldians, Marleyans," he scoffed. "All of us are vile, devil is in each and every one of us. We're all imperfect, but all of us yearn to find the place where we belong, where we're loved. We don't choose who these people would be, we love others for what they are, not what they represent, or what side of the conflict they come from. And if loving my enemy is treason, I’ll gladly go down as a traitor."

Niccolo glanced back, meeting the eyes of the one he had dedicated this speech to. Hange caught Sasha’s bewildered, loving look and smiled, feeling her eyes go misty.

So, Marleyan and Eldian? Was a union like that even possible? Four years ago, on the dawn of the day when she left the one she loved the most behind, she'd say that it would never work out. But... times were changing, right? For the better, or so, at least, Hange hoped.

"Hange-san..." Moblit crouched beside her, painfully awkward. "Erm..."

Oh right. Only now, Hange realized that she was still lying on the floor. And that in on itself wasn't so unusual, but most of the times... she didn't have a ten or so pairs of eyes watching her.

Hange cleared her throat. Then, as absurdity of the situation caught up with her, snickered quietly.

"Hey, Gab," she stroked the girl's side. "Would you mind letting me get up?"

Gabi rose on her elbows, considering Hange. The frown on her face didn't vanish, but— her eyes weren't so full of rage anymore - clearly, the speeches had left an impression on her.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, lip stuck out petulantly. "But... I'm glad that you're here. Because it means they're coming for us, right? Commander Magath and Reiner— Reiner will save us, right? We just need to wait for a little longer, until they arrive."

They're already here, Hange wanted to say. If Pieck came, there was no way that Reiner would want to sit that one out— or be allowed to, anyway. Marley was coming, their guns blazing. But in the room full of members of the Survey Corps and Queen herself, Hange couldn’t say that, wasn’t yet ready to betray her country like that. She could only kiss Gabi's brow and promise, "You will be alright."

Reassured, Gabi nodded and let Hange get up. As soon as her feet had touched the ground, Hange found herself with someone once again wrapped around her. This time, however, the embrace was that much warmer and a lot less violent.

"Falco," she carded her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "I take it you've missed me too?"

"You can't imagine," he spoke, his face pressed to her stomach. "Going on missions with Gabi is a torture! I could barely keep up with her!"

"You'll learn with time," Hange looked back, exchanging a look with Moblit. "It's not that hard to deal with annoying shits like us, right, Mob?"

He tugged at his collar, strategically evading her curious eyes. "Perhaps, after a very long while..." he reached out, patting Falco's shoulder. "And with the help of a good alcohol stash."

"Oi!" Hange slapped his arm. "He's only a kid!"

Moblit shrugged. "He has to know what is waiting for him."

"Don't listen to him," she gently consoled Falco. "He's joking."

Although... Hange had to agree with Moblit on that. If Falco continues running after Gabi like that, he'd have his first grey hair by the age of fifteen.

With the boy still clinging to her, Hange surveyed the room, swiping her gaze across Sasha and Niccolo, who stood side by side, wearing identical, enamored expressions, to Connie and Jean, who were whispering something to one another, and finally to Mikasa and Armin, who hid Historia behind their backs.

Right. She didn't come here for a cheerful reunion. The fate of the world was at stake. Hange pulled herself together and— pulled Falco away from her.

"Sorry, dear," she fondly ruffled his hair once again. "I need to go now, but I'll get back to you."

Could she do, though? Could she return to these kids, ask them to be placed under her care? Should she do it, considering that she didn't even know what was going to happen to her, where would she be one hour from now? Was it wise then to drag kids along with her? They were sharp and strong, more than capable, and they did survive on their own for so long— wait.

How did they manage to survive on a foreign soil, all by themselves? And why they were here today, in Niccolo's restaurant of all places?

"I guess these ducklings are yours?"

Oh. The familiar man that Hange had never seen was back, now standing in front of Hange, showing her a kind smile.

"We haven't been introduced, but it's hard to mistake you for someone else. Hange Zoe, right?"

"Right," Hange shook his warm, calloused hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Braus."

"The accent was a dead giveaway, huh?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had a nice laugh, Hange decided, deep, heartfelt and genuine. She liked Mr. Braus, just as much as she liked his daughter.

"I understand that you're the one who had taken care of my ducklings," Hange giggled, catching Gabi's very much unamused look. "Thank you for that."

"And thank you for saving my daughter's life. For that deed I could never repay you."

"That was... that was nothing. I did nothing, just happened to be in the right place, in the right time."

"It's only because of you that we're here, celebrating, instead of mourning. So," he gripped her shoulder tightly, his brown eyes staring into hers intently. "Let me express my gratitude, for that is the smallest thing that I can do."

"I think," Connie inserted himself between them, his mischievous smile lighting up the room. "This calls for a toast!"

No more than a second later, Jean had produced a bottle of wine, opening it swiftly and skillfully. Once the bottle was dealt with, he filled a glass with wine, thrusting it to the person standing closest to him. Which— happened to be Gabi.

She took all but a tentative sniff from the glass, before it was roughly yanked out of her hands. The drink splashed everywhere as Falco hurried to finish it, before Gabi caught up and took it away from him.

There was just as a couple of droplets left, everyone watched the scene in amusement, until—

Until Niccolo screamed.

He pounced from his place, wrestling the bottle out of Jean’s hands. “It’s not for you, morons! I told you not to touch it!”

Ice spread through Hange’s veins, as she heard the desperation in his voice. If her first thought was the right one… she had to make sure of it immediately.

“Who that wine was meant for?” she seethed, grabbing Niccolo by lapels of his shirt, suffocating him in her white-knuckled grip and currently not caring about it. Everyone in the room tensed, Sasha jumping closer to them, but Hange didn’t care, ignored all of them completely. “Who that wine was meant for?” she shouted, shaking the boy like a ragdoll.

“F-for the military officials! It’s the good stuff, expensive, it was meant only for them!”

The good stuff, the best one they got, Hange reasoned. The next question was pointless, she knew the answer already, was the one who came up with this idea in the first place, but— Niccolo was a good guy, a sweet boy in love with a kind girl. Hange wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

And that was it. That’s all she had to do to get to the bottom of it. One short, simple question, and Niccolo crumbled. He didn’t try to fight her, made no attempts to protect himself. He hanged his head in shame, avoiding the dozen pairs of eyes that now were boring into him.

“They made me do it,” he whispered, his hands, his lips— his whole body shaking. “I had no choice, you wouldn’t understand—”

Oh, but Hange did understand. Better than Niccolo knew. She knew how it felt to be forced to follow the current, accept every cruel tide. She knew just how frustrating, how painful it was to lose control.

So yeah, Hange understood. But she could not excuse.

However, she had no place to judge as well, she herself was a reason for so many tragedies and disasters. She couldn’t judge, and she didn’t have the time for it. The deed was already done, now they had to try and undo it.

“Who gave you the orders?”

The spine fluid, injected into wine, came from Zeke, that Hange had no doubt about, but Zeke was far away, deep in the forest, under Levi’s watchful eyes. So who had redistributed the wine? Who was the betrayer, the real culprit?

“It’s—”

He didn’t get to finish. For only now Hange had realized what had happened moments prior. Falco drank the wine. Falco. Drank. The. Wine.

Her heart thumping, Hange pushed Niccolo away, grabbing Falco’s hand instead. Armin, Mikasa, the Queen, let someone else deal with that shit, for now she had to try and delay the inevitable. She looked around, her eyes wild, mind racing. “Where— where is the bathroom or— or a—”

“I’ll show you.”

It was Moblit’s quiet, reassuring voice. He gripped her elbow gently, taking her away. Hange let herself be led, rubbing soothing circles into Falco’s palm all the while. She didn’t know what do, wasn’t even sure that spinal fluid can be taken out of someone’s system, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t at least try. Falco, sweet, smart Falco, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be turned into a Titan, a mindless creature with no loyalties and feelings. Hange wouldn’t allow it, she was ready to do the impossible and then more to save the little boy.

Once they reached the bathroom, Hange set out to work - took off her coat, rolled the sleeves of her shirt, sat Falco down on a stool, pushed his head under the faucet, instructed him to try and rinse all the wine out.

It was possibly entirely pointless, Hange was pretty sure of it— but. What else could she do? Sit tightly and wait for the young life to vanish?

"That thing in the wine..." Moblit spoke up - calmly, but defeated, as though he had already surrendered to whatever tragedy that would befall him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Hange tensed. Hange jumped to her feet, fisting her hand into Moblit's shirt so desperately, the fabric creaked in protest.

"Moblit," she croaked, her voice shaking, broken, eyes begging him to say that he was joking, that his inquiry was simple curiosity. "Moblit, did you drink that wine?"

"It was served at every government meeting. I couldn't refuse."

No. No. Hange couldn't believe, didn't want to believe it, Moblit— not Moblit, she didn't want him to fall victim to this, become another casualty in her long, extremely bloody career. Anyone else, but not— not him.

"It's the same tactic we used in Ragako village," she explained numbly. "Back then it was gas, this time the fluid that turns people into Titans was added into wine. It activates after Zeke screams."

"Ah," Moblit shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "If - when - I turn, you could experiment on me. Just— don't give me a stupid name like Sawney or Bean, I'd like, I think, I'd like to be called Moblit. If I'd still have some semblance of consciousness by that time, if not - you can call me whatever you—"

"Shut up." Hange choked, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ignored them, glaring fiercely at him. "Shut the fuck up, Moblit, you will not turn into a Titan, I will not allow it, I'll do whatever I can—"

"Hange-san," he smiled, and it broke her heart. "It will be okay."

It won't. Because it was her damn creation, made to defeat faceless, unknown enemies. And now it was used against people she cared about.

She had to do something about it. With a start Hange realized that the solution was... fairly easy.

"Avoid Zeke at all costs." She told Moblit, urgency turning her speech more frantic. "Don't go near him, try— try to get away if he gets into city—"

But Zeke couldn't get into the city. Zeke couldn't get out of the forest at all, couldn't make a single move without Levi knowing it.

Levi was the solution. He would keep Zeke under his guard, he would keep Moblit, and the rest of them, safe. Hange finally could take a breath.

But the calm didn't last for long.

As soon as she returned to Falco's side to check on the boy's condition, a loud crash came from somewhere deep within the restaurant. Hange heard the sound of hurried footsteps, then a concerning scream.

She exchanged a look with Moblit. Both of them started running at the same moment.

When they tumbled inside the main room, they froze in shock.

Sasha's family, members of Survey Corps and among them— soldiers with rifles. Hange scanned the room once more, her eyes travelling further, to the table by the window. She breathed out in relief - Historia was guarded by Connie and Jean. At least, the Queen was safe.

But not the rest of them.

"Squad Leader Moblit," the ginger head took a step towards them, a too wide smile plastered on his face. Hange didn't like that man and his smile. And the gun in his hands. The gun that was now aimed at the ceiling but could be very well aimed at Moblit, or anyone else in that room. “You’re the one I need.”

Moblit inched closer too, his chin held high and eyes defiant. Hange didn’t miss the fact that his movement hid her behind his broad shoulders. Oh, loyal, caring Moblit. How could she leave him to his fate?

“I’m here,” he leveled to the redhead. “What do you need me for, Floch?”

If it wasn’t for the gun in his hands, or the smile on his face, the way Moblit spelled his name – the obvious aversion, unhidden contempt was enough for Hange to understand that this Floch guy wasn’t very nice. And, despite the Wings of Freedom on his back, he certainly wasn’t Moblit’s friend.

So. That was one of the famed Yeagerists? And the rest of them, the ones that held civilians on gunpoint were the part of the same group? Hange was so not impressed.

“You’re buddies with Captain Levi,” Floch continued. “That means you know exactly where he is hiding.”

“Perhaps.” Moblit nodded. “But what makes you think that I will tell you?”

Floch’s smile grew, and the gun that was held lazily in his hand, pointing at the empty air, moved. It was lowered down, its barrel now staring right at Moblit. But the gun didn’t stop there, it moved again, shifting just a little to the side. To where Hange was standing.

“Hange Zoe, right?” Floch tilted his head, so he could look straight at her. “I didn’t have the pleasure to make your acquaintance before, but I’m glad that life threw us all together. Especially now, for you see…” he lifted a hand, and a soldier took his place, his rifle raised, while Floch paced from side to side. “I’m not allowed to hurt them,” first he pointed at Jean and Connie. “Or her,” now at Historia. “I’m, however, allowed to do with the others whatever I want. And since hurting our dear Squad Leader Moblit wouldn’t bear the needed results…” he spread his arms, shrugging helplessly. “No one would miss a traitor, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Moblit surged forward, shoulders shaking from the unbridled fury. But he made no more than a few steps, before he was immobilized, two soldiers coming from behind to grab his arms and twist them painfully. Moblit didn’t back up even then, continuing his fierce resistance. “Leave her out of this!”

“Ah, yes,” Floch chuckled to himself, observing Moblit’s struggling with morbid fascination. “The luck is surely on our side today. You will be useful after all, Hange Zoe. We will take you with us.”

No sooner than these words left his mouth, Hange felt a pair of hands around her, subduing and enabling to make a single move. She thrashed, she kicked, but to no avail.

“Floch—” Moblit grounded, pulling on his restraints.

“Don’t you worry,” Floch squeezed Moblit’s shoulder, showing him a look of feigned affection. “No one is going to get hurt, if you cooperate.”

No. They couldn’t cooperate. Cooperating meant leading Floch and his bunch to Zeke, and that meant leading them to Levi.

“Mob! Don’t listen to him! We can’t–” instinctively, momentarily forgetting about the arms that held her down, Hange reached out to him, trying to catch his eyes.

But Moblit turned his face to the other side, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

Ah. Hange’s heart sunk, while Floch clasped his hands in delight.

“I’m glad you’ve made the right choice! And now,” he raised a finger, and Hange with Moblit were forced to move forward. “Let’s get going!”

___

Outside, the weather changed. The sun hid behind the heavy, grey clouds, the rain was now steadily falling down, creating puddles under their feet.

The gloomy weather further enhanced the trepidation inside Hange. The feeling, the certainty that something was going to get very wrong and very fast persisted, forcing her to grab the reins of the horse tighter, in vain hope of providing some miniscule outlet to her ever growing anxiety.

Despite the fear, Hange spurred her horse forward, doing her best to ignore the rifles pointed at her back. It was proving to be quite a vexing task, when the said rifles kept pushing her to move even faster but— it wasn’t the worst situation Hange had found herself in. That time when she and Zeke were captured by the enemy forces and put inside a fortified prison was so much worse. The prison had anti-Titan artillery surround the perimeter, they were alone and cut off from their allies. And still they managed to escape. Compared to that, a few Yeagerists were nothing.

Although, Hange had to admit – the stories did them no justice. In reality they were a lot more vile and disgusting.

But, apparently, Levi still trained some of them. And, boy, did he teach them well. One soldier behind Hange kept huffing, cursing the weather under his breath. Hange waited, and when he once again got distracted by the mud that splashed on his boot, she thanked Levi for his absurd obsession with cleanliness and acted, stealing that little moment for herself.

“Hey,” she leaned closer to Moblit who was riding right beside her, and whispered to him in a voice just slightly louder than the sound of the rain. “Remember that thing we did during Erwin’s coup-d'etat?”

Moblit winced, anxiety reflecting in his eyes. “When we punched people that were armed with rifles?”

Hange grinned. Atta boy, of course, he remembered. “I’ll give you a signal,” she nodded discreetly and returned to her previous position, now directing all of her attention on their fearless, redheaded leader.

“So Zeke is your main goal, right? You don’t actually need Historia?”

Floch scoffed, rising his nose up in distain. “The Queen is a back-up plan.” Wow, getting information out of them was that easy? Some devoted followers they were. Hange continued listening, eager to know what else Floch would reveal. “We’re not sure what exactly is going to happen, and Eren… doesn’t like hurting his friends.”

They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Only for these words Hange was ready to throttle each and one of them. What was going to happen? Mass destruction and death, a lot of unnecessary deaths.

But did these children care? Of course, they didn’t.

And would Zeke care about it? Hange wasn’t sure. Zeke was many things – cruel, violent, heartless, he never cared that much about other people. However, he was his father’s son, and, as much as he had loathed Grisha Yeager, Zeke still carried around the hero complex that his father fought so hard to plant inside him. Was it possible then that Zeke would be against the rumbling? Was it possible that he didn’t know of Eren’s true intention, that he blindly trusted his little brother?

Was it possible that their goals didn’t align? If so… then Zeke was a key player in this game of chess. He was a powerful figure they had to get on their side. If Hange could talk to him—

A loud sound, a crashing bang interrupted the flow of her thoughts, making her jump in the saddle.

That noise, it was similar to a thunder, but not quite. Hange knew that sound all too well, was the one who created the devise that was activated with the very same sound.

It couldn’t be— that noise couldn’t come from a thunder spear explosion. But… what other explanation was there?

“Let’s head there!” Floch commanded. “Something must have happened.”

Hange’s heart raced as they inched closer and closer to the place where the sound had come from. It wasn’t hard to find, the gory sight of the poor, wounded horse and the blasted cart was easy to spot.

They approached it slowly, and suddenly Hange froze, her eyes landing on something near the riverbank. Something that looked a lot like a body – a short one with strong stature and black hair—

“Moblit,” she whispered, begging him to clear her suspicions, to reassure her that she was mistaken.

But Moblit pursed his lips, and shook his head – brief, but resolute.

For a second, Hange froze, overcome with desperation and fear. Her heart stopped too, if just for a moment.

Levi, he couldn’t— but what if he did?

Ignoring the insistent shouts and strict orders to come back, Hange jumped off the horse, scrambling to get closer to the riverbank and to him.

She fell into the mud, uncaring of her clothes, of the mud she was splashing around. She felt nothing, the rain, the river, her captors, it all faded into background. She cared for nothing else, except the limp body in her hands.

Oh, please, please, please.

Her hands trembled as she turned the body to face her, careful as she could be. A bloody mess, her personal nightmare stared right back to her.

And in that moment— Hange felt her heart break, ripping, shuttering into thousands pieces. She thought she knew loss before, she thought she knew what pain was.

She was so wrong.

#i think it's the longest chapter of this fic for now?#so ummmmm enjoy!#levihan

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Conceal don't Feel - Two

Love is an Open Door

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @alastair-appreciation-month @writeordie-4 @amchara

AO3

Previous chapter: One: Do You Wanna Build a Snowman

Next chapter: For the First Time in Forever (to be posted)

Cordelia had never been so disappointed in her entire life. She’d been promised a guest, someone closer to her and Alastair’s age, someone who could end her days of loneliness and be her friend. Father had told her about it himself on one of his better days, he’d invited someone of her generation to come help Alastair. She knew the guest would be there mainly for her brother, of course, but Alastair hated being around people and she was sure whoever the guest was would have plenty of time to spend with her instead. She’d longed for someone to end her loneliness for such a long time she had started fantasizing about the person who would be staying until she’d gotten some admittedly unrealistic expectations. Instead, Charles Fairchild had arrived.

He wasn’t as close to her age as had been promised. Instead, he was eight years older than her, which she guessed was technically her generation, but he found himself far too mature to spend time with silly little girls like her. Not to mention, of course, that he was here for Alastair, and Alastair alone. With Father sick so often and Mother filling in, Alastair needed someone to teach him how to be a king. Somehow, her brother tolerated Charles’ presence whereas he still told Cordelia to go away and leave him alone whenever she approached him. After a few weeks she learned Charles had a younger brother around Cordelia’s age, but of course he hadn’t been invited.

With a groan, she returned to her practice with cortana. It was all she had these days, all she cared about. Even if she was all alone and her brother had barely spoken to her in years, she had been gifted the family sword, both a great honor and responsibility. She wondered sometimes why Alastair had chosen to gift her cortana, as it was tradition the sword went to the heir to the throne.

‘I knew it was important to you,’ was all he’d said when she’d asked, but for Cordelia that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. Giving her a powerful sword that was rightfully his because he knew it was important to her implied he loved her, yet nothing else Alastair did or said showed he even cared about her a little bit. If he loved her, he would spend time with her, not hide in his room and yell at her to go away.

Nowadays, he would only ever spend times with Charles, because of course while Cordelia wasn’t good enough for him, Charles was everything. They deserved each other, Cordelia had decided. They were both boring and stupid and could only ever talk about politics. The only time Charles paid Cordelia any mind was when he told her a princess shouldn’t be eating so much chocolate and maybe she should try losing some weight. He had a point, princesses were supposed to be slim and small and Cordelia wasn’t, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it. She didn’t understand why Alastair followed Charles around like some lost puppy. He used to shut the world out, and it seemed like he’d opened the door, but right after Charles had entered it had shut down with full force once more.

She wished she could let it go, and forget about her brother, but she couldn’t. She still remembered the fun they used to have when they were little, how he’d looked out for her and helped her build the most amazing snowmen. It had all happened so sudden, one day they were playing in the snow together, the next he wouldn’t leave his room and refused to even speak to her. Perhaps there was an explanation, something that would make it all make sense. But then why was Charles the exception, and what did Alastair see in him?

***

When Charles arrived in Arendelle, Alastair redoubled his resolve to get this power under control, to never let it show. Letting Thomas see had been a mistake. He’d trusted Thomas, had cared for him, and now they would never see each other again and how could he be sure Thomas hadn’t shared his secret? He had no reason to assume Charles would even accept the way he was. He could never know.

‘The palace of Arendelle is beautiful,’ Charles said. ‘A different style from the palace of the southern isles. Not that that is still in use, it has been turned into a museum. A real shame.’

Charles made no effort to hide the disdain in his voice as he said the word museum.

‘Why?’ Alastair asked.

‘Because there’s no monarchy anymore,’ Charles said. ‘My mother was the Queen of the Southern Isles until two years ago. She ended the monarchy and was elected as president instead. She thought it unfitting for an elected leader to live in a grand palace, so she decided it should be a museum instead to preserve our country’s history.’

Alastair stared at Charles with wide eyes. ‘That’s a possibility? I could just end the monarchy and have elections for a leader? And whoever has good ideas on how to improve the country could just sign up?’

He imagined all sorts of people would be willing to give it a try, and Alastair had never wanted the throne anyway. He had no idea how he’d be king and meet with cabinet members and foreign officials and never show the ice that rested inside of him.

Charles chuckled, as if he’d just said something ridiculous.

‘Perhaps not,’ he said quietly, already feeling stupid.

‘Being a Crown Prince is an honor, Alastair, a great privilege. Who in their right mind would give that up? Why would you not want to be king?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I guess you’re right. It’s just a lot of responsibility, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.’

‘That’s alright. That’s why I’m here. I might not be a prince anymore, but I have a lot of experience being one and later I helped with my mother’s presidential campaign and presidency. I know how to run a country.’

His friendship with Charles might have been a bit rocky at first, but Alastair soon learnt to trust him more. It was a bit like with Thomas, when Charles was near Alastair felt calmer and could control the ice.

Charles was knowledgeable and took his time to educate Alastair on everything he thought was important for a future king. He was often willing to make time for Alastair, even when it was not convenient for him, and Alastair thought as long as Charles was here, everything was going to be alright.

‘What will you do, when you return to the southern isles?’ Alastair asked him one day.

‘Run for president myself,’ Charles said. ‘It’s not the same as being king, but there’s still much good I can do for the southern isles. My mother has done a good job, but I fear she is too sentimental. I can make my country strong again, that is all I ever wanted.

Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving anytime soon. You still need plenty of my help, and I think together we can set up some better trade routes, build an alliance and find new ways in which we can help each other. I think both Arendelle and the Southern Isles could benefit from a closer relationship.’

Alastair was intrigued. Alliances with foreign kingdoms were what he feared the most of being king. He wasn’t charming, too blunt and straight forward to flatter, but perhaps with Charles he could get started on a good alliance without those skills. ‘Of course. Whatever you need.’

***

Cordelia was beyond excited. Alastair had asked her to join him for a picnic on the palace grounds this afternoon. This would be her chance to get her brother back and a picnic was a decent start. Perhaps someday coming winter they could build a snowman again. Cordelia firmly believed you were never too old to build a snowman.

She picked out her nicest dress, eternally grateful it still fit as she was always growing out of her clothes, and went out to meet Alastair in the gardens. For once he wasn’t with Charles, which was nice because Cordelia did not want to talk about politics all afternoon. She had more important things to discuss.

‘I’m glad you came,’ Alastair said.

He was tense, Cordelia could tell. It was hard to read his moods with Alastair, he rarely showed any emotion, but she had learnt to recognize the slight tension in his shoulders, his stiff demeanor, as if he was forcing himself to speak. She wondered why he would be tense.

‘Of course I came,’ Cordelia said. ‘As far as I know you’re still my only brother.’

‘I’m sorry, for the past years,’ Alastair said. ‘I know you must have been very alone.’

Cordelia nodded. ‘Yes. I know you have to study and prepare for being king and all, but why can’t we at least open the gates every once in a while? Maybe invite some girls my age, or even Charles’ younger brother?’

She knew spending a lot of time with a boy her age would be considered inappropriate, but that was still preferable to keeping the company of the portraits on the wall. She had so little experience with social interaction she didn’t even know how to speak to someone her age, and Father expected her to get married when she was older. How was she supposed to do that when she never met anyone? There was no way she was marrying Charles.

‘I’m sorry,’ Alastair said quietly. ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Father could invite Charles,’ Cordelia protested. ‘Surely we can invite someone else. I still don’t have a lady in waiting.’

‘That’ll have to wait, Layla. I’m sorry. I wish it were different.’

Alastair had called her Layla since she was a little girl, after a girl in a story their mother used to tell them, and it was a bit of a weak spot of hers. Still, she was determined not to let it go, because nothing Alastair said made any sense.

‘But why?’ Cordelia asked. ‘What are you so afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ Alastair bit at her.

There was that temper she remembered from his childhood. It was good to see he still felt anything at all, but Cordelia did not want to make him angry the first time she’d spoken to him in years. Perhaps she should be a little more tactful about this instead of forcing answers out of him. One thing she knew for sure though, there was something Alastair knew and she didn’t. Perhaps more than one thing, Alastair always seemed to know much more than he let on. It was infuriating.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said and she hoped he would believe her apology was sincere. ‘I just wish I could have friends too.’

‘Maybe when you’re older,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ll do what I can, alright? But no promises.’

Cordelia decided to accept that for now. ‘Your life must have been very boring too. I mean, you have company, but it’s Charles. That might actually be worse than being alone.’

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘He’s not boring. He’s a politician, and a very good one. He knows everything there is about being king, even if he won’t be one himself anymore. It is very generous of him to come here and help me.’

Cordelia made a face. ‘I don’t like him. Most of the time he ignores me, which honestly is fine, but he also tells me I eat way too much chocolate and need to lose weight.’

Her weight had become a bit of an insecurity lately. She was at the end of her growth spurt and quite tall, which she liked, she was even taller than Alastair, but while she’d stopped growing in length, she kept getting wider and had to throw out dresses all the time. Her mother had told her this was normal for girls her age, but Cordelia was pretty sure most girls her age were much thinner than she was, and princesses were expected to be small and skinny.

If Charles was to be believed, it was because of all the sweets she ate, and reminding her of it was hurtful, not to mention he was always rude and condescending about it, as if she couldn’t possibly know what was good for her.

‘I’m sorry, I’ll ask him not to bother you,’ Alastair promised. ‘But I really need him here, alright? I will be king one day, and I desperately need his help.’

Cordelia snorted. ‘Maybe if you wanted to learn how to be a better king, you could actually go outside and spend time with the people of Arendelle instead of hiding here in the castle.’

‘That’s not possible,’ Alastair said stiffly.

He was worried. Cordelia couldn’t tell what it was, but she was determined to find out.

‘Are you scared to leave the palace?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I read a book some time back about someone who was scared to leave their house. It was very intriguing.’

‘I’m not scared, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed, but something about his stiff mannerism revealed otherwise.

She nodded. ‘Alright, so you have a fear of going outside like that character in the book. Maybe there’s a doctor somewhere who can help you overcome your fear since I have no idea how it’s done and I imagine dragging you outside might make it worse. But that’s alright, I could go out and into the city for you and report back what I learn. We could be a great team, like we used to be.’

‘No, Cordelia, that’s not… I’m not afraid.’ He stopped abruptly, twisting his fingers together.

Alastair was wearing a pair of fancy black gloves. Now that she noticed, he always wore gloves. Perhaps if he was scared of going outside, he was also scared of dirt? The palace was cleaned, of course, but some rooms weren’t cleaned as often because of the limited staff and would collect dust. She did remember her brother had always been rather neat, that had to be it.

‘We’re done here,’ Alastair said. ‘Goodbye.’

He stood up and walked away. They hadn’t even eaten anything yet. Cordelia ran after him.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back inside. I changed my mind, I don’t want to have a picnic with you.’

Cordelia didn’t understand. He’d invited her, he’d wanted to spend time with her. Had she done something wrong to change his mind? It didn’t make any sense, she might have been a little pushy, but he had to understand it was for his own good, right?

‘Why? Am I suddenly not good enough for you anymore?’ Cordelia yelled, grabbing his shoulder.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed. ‘I mean it.’

Cordelia was taken back by the sudden vehemence in his voice.

‘Fine, go back inside to stupid Charles and his stupid lessons!’ she yelled after him as he walked inside.

He didn’t look back, not even once. As if she was nothing. Great, that was her one chance to win back her brother, to improve her situation here somewhat. Now she had no idea what to do.

She returned to the picnic site and collapsed onto the blanket she’d laid out for the two of them. She stuffed some chocolate into her mouth. Chocolate she’d specifically requested for Alastair, because she knew he liked anything sweet, and loved chocolate most of all. Cordelia did too, curse stupid Charles and his stupid comments about her eating habits. She was the princess, she could eat as much chocolate as she wanted. She needed some way to cope with being alone all the time and if Charles thought it was bad for her maybe he should go find her a friend. As it was, she returned to days of loneliness and practicing with cortana. What else was she supposed to do?

***

‘Your father didn’t show up to our meeting again,’ Charles said. ‘We were supposed to discuss your progress weekly, but most of the time he isn’t there. Do you know if he’s alright?’

‘He’s just sick,’ Alastair said, terrified Charles would find out about his father’s drinking. ‘No one knows what’s wrong with him, but it’s been getting worse. Mother has taken over most of his tasks so he can rest. Thanks to you, I can start helping out too. I’ve been working on my correspondence, and I was wondering if you could double check my letter to the Duke of Weselton?’

Charles nodded. ‘I’ll look at your letter. I am sorry to hear about your father’s illness, Alastair, I know it’s been hard on you. How’s your sister under all this?’

Alastair sighed. A couple of months ago, he’d thought he was making progress. Around Charles he felt so much better, he felt as if the ice wasn’t even there unless he called for it. He had thought maybe he could give his sister another chance and he’d invited her to a picnic. If everything had gone well and he’d felt in control around her, he could have told her the truth there, and show her what he was capable of. But when he’d met with Cordelia, everything came back in full force and he’d have to fight with every bit of his willpower to repress his fear and keep the ice inside of him. Cordelia was still mad about his sudden departure, but he’d had no other choice if he wanted to keep her safe. When he’d gotten back to his bedroom, he’d lost control and caused a snowstorm. While he thought his control had improved since Charles had come, the size of any outburst that slipped through had grown.

He was lucky Cordelia hadn’t seen it and at least now that Father was drunk all the time, he wouldn’t notice and put Alastair in chains. He knew it was all his fault though, his father wouldn’t have started drinking if it weren’t for him.

‘I think it’s difficult for her,’ Alastair said. ‘She mentioned you made some comments about her eating habits the other day. I know you mean well, but she doesn’t like it.’

‘I’m just concerned for her. It’s unhealthy to eat so much chocolate,’ Charles insisted. ‘She’ll thank me when she doesn’t have to throw out another of her custom made gowns.’

Alastair didn’t think it was fair to shame her for growing out of clothes when he did the same. He’d started his growth spurt lately and most of his suits had become too short. They weren’t thrown away either, they were sold second hand, as were Cordelia’s old gowns.

‘I think she’s insecure about how she looks,’ Alastair said. ‘And she has plenty to worry about, I don’t think she should be worrying about her weight on top of that. Your comments aren’t helping her.’

He didn’t understand why his control was so much worse around Cordelia. A long time ago, he’d hurt her, and he was terrified it would happen again. Perhaps that was different with Charles. With Charles he could not feel, like he was supposed to.

The problem, of course, was that with Charles he did feel. Just like he had with Thomas. It had not appeared as fast as it had with Thomas, but it was so much stronger now that he’d gotten to know Charles, had spent nearly a year with him.

He wanted Charles. Loved him, even. Alastair didn’t understand why he felt this way. Years ago, he’d met his cousin Jem who’d told him how he loved both Will and Tessa romantically. Alastair couldn’t imagine loving more than one person at the same time, nor could he imagine loving a woman, but perhaps some men longed for the love of other men instead of women.

Perhaps being in love was what calmed his moods, as long as he wasn’t scared. Right now, he wasn’t, not yet. He knew it was unlikely Charles felt the same way. That was alright, because he still wanted to be near him and then everything would be fine.

‘You know, I always found it unusual how empty this castle is,’ Charles said one day. ‘No one else ever stays, your parents always travel to meet foreign leaders and never invite anyone over. There aren’t half as many cleaners and servants as there were in my old palace.’

‘We minimized the staff,’ Alastair said. ‘It seems wasteful to spend money on staff when that could be spent on improving the kingdom.’

‘You don’t even have friends,’ Charles said. ‘No other noblemen visit, ever. You don’t have any companions, nor a page. You sleep alone. It’s odd.’

Alastair frowned. ‘How is it odd that I sleep alone?’

‘When I was still a prince, I had a page. A boy around my age, who shared my bed at night. It was normal at home, for noblemen and women to have a page or lady in waiting share their bed. A good way to make sure your virtue remains intact and you do not share your bed with a woman you are not married to.’

Alastair wasn’t sure that would be effective. Who was to say nothing improper happened between the nobleman and the person who shared their bed?

‘There’s no one here I could lose my virtue to,’ Alastair said. ‘But I know what you mean, my mother does share her bed with Risa, her lady in waiting. My father doesn’t though, he sleeps alone.’

No one could find out he was a drunk. No one would believe in him as a king anymore, and therefore it was up to Alastair to keep anyone from finding out, just like he had to keep everyone from finding out about the ice inside of him.

‘I imagine you don’t have a page anymore at home?’ Alastair asked.

‘We had a fall out shortly before my mother gave up the crown,’ Charles said in a tone that indicated he did not want to talk about it.

Charles did not bring the topic up again for some time, not until he was complaining about his younger brother one day.

‘He’s been campaigning for the right for men to love other men,’ Charles said with a sigh. ‘And for women to love women. Here I was thinking he’d never give up on being silly and going out partying, but this is worse.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why? Is he not fighting for a good cause?’

‘He will make everything much harder for me, for our family,’ Charles said. ‘People are shunning him, of course. They’re wondering, why is he campaigning for this, what does it mean about him? And my brother does not have the good sense to hide he likes both men and women.’

So Charles’ brother was like his cousin Jem, then? Alastair had not met Matthew Fairchild, but it was difficult to hear Charles talk like this. He felt a familiar tingling in his fingers, a warning he might lose control. Something he had not yet felt around Charles.

‘That is very brave of him,’ Alastair said.

‘I prefer to think of it as foolish,’ Charles said. ‘The people won’t accept him, he won’t change a thing. He’ll just make everything harder for himself, and for me. People will watch us more closely. No one batted an eye when Daniel, my former page, shared my bed for years.’

Alastair gasped. ‘You mean to say you love men?’

‘Unfortunately I do. It’s not easy for someone like me. I have to keep it a secret, or I risk losing everything. No one would vote for a man like me to be president. But with the proper precautions, I’ve been quite successful at hiding my affections and desires while still indulging in them. I wish my brother understood that.’

Alastair put his hand on Charles’ and felt the tingling fade. It wasn’t gone, not entirely, but he wouldn’t lose control. ‘Does your brother know about you?’

‘No. I never wanted him to. You’re the first person I’ve told after Daniel, I know I can trust you to keep my secret.’

Alastair felt special to be entrusted with such a secret, and could it mean Charles returned his feelings? Had Charles told him because he hoped Alastair might want to be with him?

‘When I’m king, I will do what your brother has been campaigning for, I will change the laws and allow two men or two women to be together,’ Alastair promised. ‘Get married, even.’

Charles waved his hand dismissively. ‘Don’t be silly, Alastair.’

His heart sank, the tingling increased. He had to tell Charles about his affections, or else everything would become snow and ice.

‘But I’m like you,’ Alastair said. ‘I like men. And I don’t want to hide forever. What’s even the point in being king if I can’t change such things?’

‘They’ll cast you out, Alastair,’ Charles said. ‘Don’t waste your birthright on something the people will never accept. Best to keep your affections a secret. You’re a prince, you can pick any boy you like to be your page or companion and share your bed. No one would suspect a thing.’

Charles put his hand on Alastair’s shoulder, a bit too long for it to be called friendly, right?

‘What about you?’ Alastair asked. ‘I feel choosing a page to be my love would be unfair. Like, would he even get a say in that? It wouldn’t be like that with you.’

Charles smiled and cupped his cheek with his hand. It was smooth, the hand of someone who had not done manual labor. ‘You’re in love with me, aren’t you?’ he said, his voice gentle.

Alastair rubbed his hands together, forcing the tingling to stop. He felt frost underneath his gloves, but it was still hidden. Conceal, don’t feel.

‘Yes,’ he whispered.

‘I suspected as much,’ Charles said. ‘I like you too, Alastair. You’re smart and beautiful, and you will be a great king someday. But this has to be a secret. You understand that, don’t you? I will be with you, but only as long as you can keep your affections concealed.’

Alastair nodded. ‘Of course.’

Then Charles kissed him, and it was like fire, a sudden heat that melted his frozen heart, that stopped the tingling in his fingers, that calmed the storm inside of him. Perhaps love was the answer after all.

Alastair and Charles explored much more than just kissing together. Charles came to share his bed, claiming it was improper how Alastair slept alone all night. No one suspected a thing, but then of course, there was no one who could suspect. It was the first time in years where Alastair felt he might be happy. Even if he was still too dangerous to be around his sister. He tried once more. No promises this time, he just sought her out in her room to see if they could talk. The storm returned almost immediately and Alastair realized his sister would never be safe if he went near her. The only one he could be around was Charles.

It was amazing at first. Long nights together, Charles touching him, making love to him. He’d never known being touched by someone could feel so good, nor that it would melt the ice inside his heart. Charles knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted, and Alastair was happy to oblige.

It was wonderful outside of the bedroom too. He loved how Charles would gently touch his shoulder, his wrist as he guided him through their lessons. But it didn’t take long for the secrecy of it all to start to weigh on him. Charles’ younger brother had fled farther south for his own safety, confirming Charles’ beliefs it was better to keep their love a secret. Alastair was scared the same might happen to him, but what could possibly be worse than people finding out he was a monster with ice in his heart?

Perhaps it would be better to leave, to flee into the woods and snow touched mountains and make his home there. The cold didn’t bother him, he would survive. But Charles could not come with him there, and so he stayed. Even while Charles mocked his ideas, told him he was still too young to understand what it was to rule a kingdom and treated him like was a child despite being old enough to be Charles’ lover.

Once he’d been in control around Charles, but not anymore. He wasn’t sure why it had gotten worse, why he was so scared Charles would leave him, that he wasn’t good enough anymore. He redoubled his resolve, made sure to read everything Charles asked him to, be everything his lover needed him to be. Charles was all he had, he didn’t think he could survive being abandoned. They stayed like this for several years. Alastair never took his gloves, not even when they had sex, and never explained why. Charles thought it was odd, but had come to accept it.

Even when he lost control, the gloves kept it in for a little longer, offered a bit of protection, and the time to get away before the storm began. Whenever he didn’t trust himself anymore, he went to his own private bathroom, a place even Charles wasn’t allowed to enter. Now that Charles shared his bed, his bedroom wasn’t a safe place to lose control anymore and he couldn’t exactly ask Charles to leave. So instead, this bathroom had frozen several times over, and whenever he was going to lose control he just told Charles he needed to use the bathroom. At this point, all the pipes had broken, so nothing could be used, but everything had been cut off from the water network long ago and his outbursts didn’t affect the other bathrooms. Charles had not uncovered his secret, and although it was difficult to keep it from him, it was for the best.

***

Cordelia took her father’s hand. ‘Where are you going? Are you sure you’re well enough to travel?’

‘I’m feeling much better, Cordelia dear,’ he said with a smile. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.’

Cordelia wasn’t sure where exactly her parents would be traveling. It wasn’t the first time he left, of course, to meet with foreign nobles, but this time he would be going on a much longer journey, and it had been a while since he’d traveled anywhere. He’d been too sick and Mother had written letters to keep up relations instead.

‘Can’t I come with you?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Not this time,’ her father said. ‘But I promise on my next journey you can come with me. It’s almost time for you to be presented to the world. But this is something I have to do myself, I’m afraid.’

The idea of being presented to the world sounded good, but perhaps that would be a bit much all at once. Perhaps it would be nicer to start with a smaller group of people who could be her friends.

‘What if the people won’t like me?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Of course they will. You are beautiful, compassionate and nurturing, what’s not to like?’

Cordelia could always count on her father to tell her she was beautiful, even if not long ago she’d had to throw out nearly all of her gowns because she’d gained too much weight to fit into them.

‘I’ll still be here, azizam,’ her mother said, which surprised her.

‘Oh, I thought you were going too,’ Cordelia said.

‘I was, but Alastair insisted he was not ready to take over while I was gone and needed me to stay,’ her mother explained. ‘I know that’s not true and Alastair is more than ready, but I thought staying would put his mind at ease.’

Cordelia supposed that should make her less lonely, but her mother spent all her time on filling in for her father and she wasn’t sure where that left her. She knew everyone was keeping something from her, but she couldn’t figure out what and it was frustrating. She’d tried asking her father, who had told her not to worry, that everything would be alright in the end. Then she’d asked her mother, who’d told her that her brother was going through a difficult time, without offering any explanation. Apparently, boys his age often went through times like this, except in Alastair’s case that had been years now. Not that Cordelia knew any other boys Alastair’s age to compare his behavior to, but that was hardly her fault.

It turned out her father wasn’t back before she knew it. It took months to even get word from him. Of course, it was a long journey by ship and it made sense they did not hear anything at first, but after a couple of months Cordelia began to worry. They should have heard something by now, what could have become of him?

‘He’ll be alright, Cordelia,’ her mother had said. ‘We’ll hear from him soon enough. He must have decided to stay longer than intended and it would take time for a letter to reach us.’

But Cordelia could tell her mother was worried too, more so with every passing day during which they did not hear from Elias. Several months after he’d first left, a messenger came.

‘I am terribly sorry to bring you this news, Your Majesty,’ the messenger said, addressing her mother. ‘The King’s ship went down in the southern seas. There were no survivors.’

Cordelia had been in shock at first. Then she’d burst into tears. Mother had cried too, although a bit more concealed. Alastair though, had not shown a thing. He’d taken the news quietly, asked a few questions, and then retreated to his room. As if he didn’t feel a thing, as if he didn’t care.

The funeral was a quiet ceremony, and Alastair didn’t attend. She had been forced to ask Charles where he was and why he hadn’t come to his own father’s funeral. Charles didn’t know the answer either, said something about Alastair being upset and indisposed, but she could tell it didn’t make sense to him either.

Determined not to let him slip away from her like he always did, she went to his room after the funeral, knocking on the door. No response. When she was younger, Alastair would yell at her to go away, he would get angry that she had the nerve to bother him. As awful as that was, his silence was worse.

‘Please, Alastair,’ she said. ‘I know you’re in there. I don’t know why you didn’t come to the funeral, and maybe it was just too hard… But people asked about you, where you’ve been. And I want to be there for you. Just let me in, and we can talk about.’

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ she heard from the other side of the door. He didn’t open it. ‘I don’t care Father is dead, that’s why I didn’t go the funeral. You shouldn’t either.’

It was not the answer she’d expected, although it wasn’t the first time it had seemed like Alastair did not love Father. Sometimes she wondered if Alastair could feel anything at all. She guessed not. There was ice inside his heart, and Cordelia did not know how to reach him anymore. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

With Father gone, her mother was Queen-Regent for now, taking on all of Father’s duties with some help from Alastair here and there until his coronation. Her mother was pregnant, and Cordelia didn’t think it would be good for her to spend so much time working while expecting a child. At least the pregnancy meant that once the baby was here, she would have someone to play with.

In four months, Alastair would turn twenty one and would be crowned king. He only ever spent time preparing for his coronation and his reign, Charles always hovering around him. It was impossible to catch him alone.

Of course, a coronation brought opportunities. Alastair couldn’t be crowned in a small, private ceremony, people from all over the country and even beyond would be invited. Cordelia would finally have a chance to meet actual real life people.

***

Alastair did not attend his father’s funeral. He’d expected knowing his father was gone would bring relief. No more hiding the empty bottles, no more covering up his sickness. No risk Cordelia would find out. Most of all, no risk Father would decide he was too dangerous and would chain him in the dungeons. He had never forgotten that day and even now he still had nightmares. Father had always been cruel to him, and he thought his death would set Alastair free. Instead, he felt empty, he felt a horrible guilt for hating a man who was now dead. He felt the snow and ice tingling against his fingers, seeking release. He pushed it back down with all he had. Conceal, don’t feel, that was what his father had taught him. No emotion, push it all down. Alright then, he would not feel. He would not mourn Father, would not care that he was gone. He would not attend the funeral and pay his respects, it was too dangerous anyway, and Father did not deserve that.

He knew people would ask why, where he’d been, and he made something up about being too sick and overcome with grief to attend. It was a lie. Even without the risk of exposing his ice, he would not have wanted to attend. He hated his father, and he couldn’t bear to listen to people speak on what a great king he’d been. Worse, what a great father he’d been. And there was no one he could talk to. Charles didn’t know what Father was really like, he believed in the lie of his illness. Cordelia was the same, worse even, for she adored Father, she always had. He’d considered telling her the truth, but that would be selfish. It would break her heart, and for what? And Mother had loved Father. Now that he was gone, she wanted to remember the good parts. She was having another baby, and was devastated the baby would never meet his father. Lucky child, he thought. That almost sounded like he resented the baby for getting the safe and carefree childhood he had never had, but that wasn’t true. He was almost glad Father was gone for their sake, and he hoped the baby would grow up happy and loved and protected, even if Alastair could provide none of that himself. It was too dangerous and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to the baby because of him.

***

‘Alastair, are you in there?’

No response. Sona had gotten used to that at this point. She had grown more worried every day. Alastair was to be king in a couple of months, but he had barely left his private quarters since Elias’ death. The only person he spoke to was Charles, and even then Charles had confided in her that he felt Alastair pull away from him. That he wasn’t sure Alastair was ready to be king.

She’d thought, perhaps, as his mother she could reach him. Charles didn’t know about the ice despite them being very close. But with her and Cordelia, all Alastair did was push them away.

He had seemed happy, at least, when she’d told him of her pregnancy, excited to meet the new baby. Mostly, he’d been terrified though and Sona thought perhaps Alastair was scared he’d hurt the baby. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She had to protect her baby, of course, but Alastair was her child too and she didn’t know how to reach him.

Sona knocked on the bedroom door once more. He couldn’t hide in there forever. It was Charles who opened, wearing a dressing robe. Sona knew Charles had been sleeping in Alastair’s bedroom for the past years. It was a way, apparently, to make sure Alastair’s virtue was intact for marriage. Not that Alastair had shown any interest in getting married and with his ice, Sona feared it was too dangerous. She wasn’t sure how Alastair had managed to keep his ice from Charles while sharing a bed, but that was impressive, right?

It pained her, she wanted nothing more than for Alastair to be happy, but she didn’t know how. She’d considered going back to Tessa, had asked Elias to reconsider, but he’d refused. ‘Alastair belongs here,’ Elias used to say. ‘That witch will only take him away from us.’

And now he was to be crowned king and it was too late. At least Charles had been good for him, right? Sona had noticed the way Alastair lit up around Charles, the way he seemed so eager to please him.

‘Your Majesty,’ Charles addressed her. ‘If I knew you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.’

‘I am sorry,’ Sona said. ‘Did I wake you? I didn’t realize you tucked in early, I’ve always been a late sleeper myself. I was just looking for Alastair, is he here?’

‘No, he must have left when I was asleep. Usually he goes to the bathroom, his own private one. Even I am not allowed in there. He’s very attached to his privacy.’

Sona knew about the bathroom, the place he went to when he lost control. It was good for him to have such a place right? Somewhere it didn’t matter if the ice became too much for him, because no one would get hurt.

Sona forced a smile. ‘Thank you Charles. I think I’ll look for him there.’

‘I don’t think he’d like that.’

‘He’s my son, and I am worried about him.’

‘He’s been showing progress in his lessons lately,’ Charles said. ‘I do not think you have to worry.’

Sona just nodded, and closed the door. Charles was smart, responsible, and he knew politics, but sometimes she felt he didn’t know Alastair, didn’t understand him. Risa hated Charles, acted as if he’d stolen Alastair away from them, but Sona felt that was a bit too simplistic. It was a difficult situation for everyone, and they were all doing the best they could. Alastair had chosen to spend his time around Charles, and if that was what made him feel better, who was she to judge?

Sona knocked on the bathroom door. No response.

‘Alastair, I’m coming in!’ she called.

She didn’t like invading his privacy, but at least he’d be forced to acknowledge he was in there if he wanted to stop her. He didn’t say anything. Perhaps he wasn’t in the bathroom after all, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

She pulled on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Had Alastair locked himself in there? When she pulled a little harder, it broke open and Sona realized why she’d been unable to open the door. It was frozen. Everything in the bathroom was frozen, about half a meter of snow lying on the floor. It was a good thing the door opened to the outside, or she would not have gotten it open at all.

Alastair was lying on the snow, covered in a thin summer blanket. The cold had never bothered him, but he had always liked to hold a blanket when he slept. When he was little, he would sleep with a thin summer blanket in the coldest days of winter, perfectly content.

Should she wake him? He seemed peaceful, at least, now that he was asleep. But he had lost control in here before falling asleep, and she wanted to know what had happened. He hadn’t responded well to his father’s death, and she knew Elias and Alastair had never had the best relationship, but instead of grieving with her and Cordelia, he’d shut them out even more. Sona didn’t think he was alright.

Before she could make a decision, Alastair opened his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position. Sona wrapped her arms around herself, it was freezing cold in here. That couldn’t be good for the baby, but she was determined to talk to her son.

‘What happened, azizam?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, maman,’ he said. ‘I lost control.’

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘What happened?’

‘I was with Charles,’ he said. ‘He told me he’d been writing with the Duke of Weselton.’

Sona frowned. ‘What’s wrong with that? He’s one of our closest trading partners. Charles has not sabotaged our relationship with Weselton, has he?’

‘No, not like that. You see, the Duke has a daughter around my age and no other heir, and Charles wants to marry her. She will be here for the coronation, and Charles intends to propose there. He thinks the Duke is a powerful ally for him as well as for us. And the laws in Weselton are pretty backward, so if the Duke dies his daughter’s husband will inherit the title, the lands, everything.’

Sona knew Charles liked power, of course. Risa hated him for it, thought he couldn’t be trusted, but Sona couldn’t help but see that even if Charles was a little too power hungry for his own good, Alastair adored him. But if he took the title and became Duke of Weselton, why would that upset Alastair so much? Wouldn’t he be happy for his friend?

‘What does any of that have to do with you?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I know, it’s stupid. But he’ll leave me alone if he marries her. He’d go live in Weselton in the Duke’s palace. He cannot stay here anymore. He’s all I have, I couldn’t bear it if he left.’

Sona took his hand. It was ice cold. ‘You always knew he would return home someday, right? Charles was here to teach you and prepare you, and he has done that. You are ready to be king, joon-am. I know controlling the ice is hard, but you’re smart and compassionate and you will do fine if he’s not there.’

Secretly Sona thought perhaps Alastair would do even better without Charles there. She knew Alastair was kinder, and she feared perhaps it came from a place of self loathing but Alastair was not the kind of king who’d put his own needs before anyone else’s.

Alastair nodded weakly. ‘But I’d be all alone. When Charles and I first became friends, it was the first time I could control myself. As long as it was going well, I mean. I did sometimes lose control when he was upset with me, but he never saw. I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s gone.’

Alastair was crying. The tears froze into snowflakes before they even reached his cheeks. Watching her son cry had always been one of the strangest thing, as if he started snowing. It was heartbreaking to watch, and Sona wished she could hug him, but she knew Alastair wouldn’t let her. He was far too scared he’d hurt the baby.

‘You’re going to be alright,’ Sona said. ‘You’re lonely, I know that. Cordelia is too. But the coronation offers opportunities. Perhaps you’ll meet someone else who helps calm your moods and your ice. You could invite someone to stay, if you want, open the gates.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. Charles is the only one I can trust. I tried, maman. I tried with Cordelia, but every time I go near her I am so scared I’ll hurt her and then the ice takes over.’

‘Perhaps we should return to Tessa,’ Sona suggested.

‘No. The coronation is too close. This curse, it can’t be controlled. Best to be alone, and do what’s right for Arendelle.’

Sona guessed if Alastair wouldn’t return to the village, she’d try to send an invitation for the coronation. Perhaps Tessa could come here and help figure out why Alastair couldn’t control the ice. It was the least she could do for her son.

#Alastair Carstairs #Cordelia Carstairs #Sona Carstairs #Charles Fairchild #Conceal don't feel #Frozen AU #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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gayenerd · 3 years

Text

Interview with Billie for the Kerrang Yearbook. Sounds like this took place around 2000-2001?

Hello Billie Joe. A bit pissed at the Kerrang Awards weren't you? "I was drinking with Papa Roach the night before. Everybody went to see The Cult in Brixton. All the American bands like Papa Roach and Queens Of The Stone Age were there. I felt terrible when I got out of bed to go to the Kerrang Awards." Who ended up worse off - you or Coby Dick? "Sometimes Coby can't even hold it together when he's sober! He's super-hyper all the time. You have to say, 'Coby, turn it off for 2 minutes - I'm in my bunk!' Then he'll turn it off and you can get into a decent conversation." You experienced some difficulty in getting off the stage after accepting your Kerrang Award. "Award's shows freak me out - I'm so scared shitless of those things so I end up doing stupid things. I never theought I'd ever win an award for playing music. Watching all our videos being shown up on the screen, I just looked at Mike and Tre and said. 'Does this mean we're old now?' I can be such a self-conscious freak. I just don't know how to be cool." What's the healthiest thing you've done this year? "I like to keep myself fit. I run, I skateboard, and i'll hit the weights every other day. You reach a certain age when you've gotta start looking out for yourself. I'm staring down the barrel of 30, you know? My dad really let himself fall to @#%$ and I don't want to end up like that. Theres a preconcieved idea about musicians and punk musicians in particular that we have to self-destruct, and I can't buy into that. I like to breathe. Like like it when my heart beats - Its a really cool thing." Have you cut down on your drinking recently? "When i'm on tour I drink all day long with the guys. There's nothing else to do. But i've been at homea while. There are many, many moods to Billie Joe. There's drunk me and theres not-drunk me." What have you learned about being a father during the past year? "You learn new things every day as your kids' characters and personalities are building. Joey is 6 now, he's not a baby at all, he's a little boy. And Jacob, who's 3, is a maniac. The one rule I have is that I never expose them to television." What have you learned about Tre and Mike this past year? "Wow (long pause). I learned that Mike is a Bob Dylan fan, which was kind of suprising. I'm not the biggest fan but I definately appreciate Bob Dylan. And Tre is becoming really fluent in Spanish. His wife is Nicaraguan." What color has your hair been this year? "I shaved my head when I got off the road. Its been black. I haven't really been changing it. When the boy groups started dyeing their hair, I had to stop." Any fashion tips you'd care to pass on to Kerrang readers? "I've been wearing the same pants since High School! Never been into the Versace thing." Best punk rock song you've heard this year? "Last Nite by The Strokes. They're not really a punk band, but those guys have a really cool outlook and a good sensibility about how they present themselves. All the rap rock metal bands have lost that rock'n'roll element, and i'm just a sucker for good rock'n'roll music." What song has been stuck in your head this year, even though you hate it? "Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Farm. It was bad when Michael Jackson sang it, but it's even worse second time around! Y'know, I think Michael Jackson should join Slipknot. His face looks so bizarre now, its like he's wearing a mask." Are Slipknot still the scariest dudes in rock? "In about a year from now, if they're still as popular as they are now, they'll be as American as apple pie. That's sort of what happened to Marilyn Manson. When he came out he was really scary looking, like 'Jesus Christ! This guy is a maniac!' But now its, 'Oh, theres Marilyn, mowing the lawn, no big deal.' I like Manson, but it's funny how the most normal people end up being the most threatening, and the people who are scariest at first end up kinda normal. That's the dissapointing thing about shock value. Neil Young is more threatening than Slipknot just because he's smarter and has more of an opinion." How much fun did you have on tour in 2001? "It's really exciting at first because you're in different places every day, but after a while i'd rather be home. I get into really long conversations with my wife, I talk to my kids a lot, I'll write little notes and draw pictures for them and fax them to the house. Our sets are getting longer, sometimes we'll play up to three hours, and its because there is no rock'n'roll lifestyle for me other than that. I'm a devoted husband and a devoted father, and so all that decadent bullshit is not my thing. You start to wonder, 'Is this the life for me?' But then I get home and I dont know what the @#%$ to do with myself because i'm not playing music. People have looked at us and gone, 'Obviously these guys have no place to go after the gig because they're still on stage!'" Where were you on September 11? "I was on West Coast time, so it was really early in the morning for me. I saw the towers fall, and it felt like the world was gonna end. What amazes me is that Tony Blair is almost heading the coalition by himself! Does he realise what he's getting his country into? This is @#%$ serious! There's been a lot of shocking words used: the 'crusade against terrorism'. The las thing you say to someone from the Middle East is the word 'crusade'." After September 11, do you share America's renewed sense of patriotism? "No way. I can't really see myself as a patriot. I don't see what happened in New York as an act of war, it's an act of terrorism. Every country has had to deal with terrorism in some form, and this is the first time America has ever seen it and they dont know what to do, so everyone is clinging to these war slogans. All the flags is people's cars and homes - it just seems kind of gross to me." Has American learnt from the tragedy? "I hope some good stuff comes out of this. People have become so self-absorbed and dedicated to their careers. I'm not a person to wave a flag for family values or anything like that, but there comes a time when your relationships and your family is the most important thing, not whether you're making $100,000 every year. Thats what I hope comes out of it - that people realise the important things in life." Six Of The Best Best Friend: " Valium. Lots of plane flights, man. Valium only lasts four hours, so if you're on an 11 hour flight take two and a half." Best advice: "Put your head between your knees if you think you are gonna pass out." Best Ass: "Tre Cool. Not only because he has one, but because he is one." Personal Best: The pinnacle moment for me this year, musically, was playing Reading. It was a great show. There's so many bands nowadays who can't play live, but to actually do it and have people singing along and getting something sentimental out of it at the same time, thats rare, and we achieved that at Reading." Best Night Out: "The furst night I went out after september 11. I really went for it. American has these feelings of its days being numbered. It's like a country that has just got cancer, but the cancer's in remission. A lot of people are doing all the things they've always talked about doing. I hadn't partied really hard in a while, so that's what I did. I went to a couple of bars with Mike and Tre and our producer. We got loud and had a good time." Best Buy: " My cellphone. The ring tone is just a goofy tune. And it vibrates well in my pocket."

#article #articles #interview #billie joe armstrong #green day

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

North star

Core disaster week Day 1: Bart’s Birthday// First kiss

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cassie smiled, sitting down in the picnic blanket. There was so much fucking food- it was awesome.

But not as awesome as being together, all of them. It’d been a while since they managed to meet like this. Kon, particularly, had been hard to pin down and convince to come; but exceptions had to be made on certain days, and Bart’s birthday was the height of special occasions.

Tim, too. She risked a glance at him, stony and silent, and smiled sadly. It truly had been too long.

Sitting each on one end of the blanket, like a flesh and blood compass rose, she smiled again at the unintended philosophy of it all. Bart to the east, bringing the sun into their lives, his energy and warmth a hope for the new day; Kon to the south, lost in memories of the past but a steady, firm ground beneath them; She herself to the west, holding the weight of it all on her shoulders like the sky held the heaviness of sunset; And Tim, sweet, depedable Tim, was undoubtedly their north.

“Cassie? Wonder-honey-baby-dearest girl?”

Snapping out of her reverie, Cassie waved Bart’s concerned face off.

“Don’t worry, just lost in thought. C’mon dude, it’s your day, we can’t start eating until you do!”

A little unsure, Bart sits back on his spot, glancing to his right at Tim. He hesitated a bit, something extremely unusual for a speedster presented with a widely varied menu (Kon and her had flown all over the world picking and choosing his favorites from every possible country- there was a lot).

“He doesn’t mind”, interrupts Kon softly, before anything else can be said.

Taking his word as the gospel it is, Bart’s face broke into the biggest smile and cleaned up his first plate of ‘a little bit of everything’ in less than a blink, already reaching out for more. Without even pausing his chewing, he started babbling out at Tim, who for once didn’t reprimand him on his table manners, nor tried to use a napkin to clean his chocolate-stained cheek. Cassie tried very hard to hide the pang that surprise-attacked her heart.

Desperate for a distraction, she turned to her right, to Conner. He was looking at the other two fondly, a small smile breaking through his face of steel like it was butter.

She remembered back when they were younger, just children, before all the tragedies and the losses; he had smiled easier, then. Wider, unprompted, freely. Giving that handsome smirk like it was candy on halloween.

“It was a good idea to come here”, he acknowledged, once again making her snap out of her head.

“One day, you’ll just accept that all my ideas are good.”

“Do I need to remind you about the deal with the beet demon?”

“That wasn’t that bad.”

“Cassie. We had to eat borsch for every meal. For a month. I don’t think Bart ever forgave you about that.”

They both waited for a second to see if the speedster was about to interject, but he seemed to have missed their conversation, regaling Tim with a tale of his latest training session with Wally.

“Anyway”, Kon coughed, drawing her back to their moment, “it really was. I… I know I wasn’t the easiest person to convince, so..”

“‘The easiest person’? I had to track you down across an entire hemisphere, lasso you like a wild animal and drag you here kicking and screaming. Literally. My bruises have bruises.”

“Anyway, thanks. I… needed to see you all again. I never thought we’d be able to just… sit here and enjoy ourselves, without… you know, all the…”

“Angst?”

“... yeah. How did you even manage to secure us this spot?”

Cassie smiled, leaning back against her arms, enjoying the sun on her face.

“You can thank Tim’s brother for that. I made him promise to make sure no one interrupted us today.”

The other meta snorted.

“It’d be a cold day in hell before I thank Nightwing for anything.”

She winced a bit, but refused to let the implications ruin her good mood. “Come on, you know he’s not my favorite person in the world, but he’s really doing his best to be here for” -a quick glance, Bart still talking his heart out to Tim- “the new Robin. If you can bury the battle axe...he’s not so bad, nowadays.”

Unsure, he shrugged.

“I don’t really care if he discovers the cure to cancer and spends the rest of his life in seclusion as a monk. If I see him on fire and I have a big water bottle, I might help him put it out- after taking a few drinks, first. But that’s as far as I’d be willing to go for him.”

Considering the numerous times Kon had tried to outright attack the older vigilante, Cassie was going to take it.

“How's Jon?” she asked, subject change as unsubtle as a kick to the chest, taking a delicious french pastry between thumb and forefinger and examining it.

He copied her, selecting something brown and salty-looking from the assorted items

“Nothing new. He’s still a better mentor than Supes, though his choice in friends leaves much to be desired. Still, like I told you, I’m… better? I think?”

A pause, as he washed down whatever he ate with a raspberry slushie. Bart’s incessant chatter, once annoying, was now a beautiful background noise. He was just so damn happy, Cassie felt more accomplished even than the time Diana first told her ‘good job’ after a spar. All he’d asked her for his birthday, soft and broken among his tears, had been this; just the four of them, together.

And she’d done her best to make it happen, securing this place and guilting Kon into accepting. She’d done it, and the memory of Bart’s genuine laugh as he told Tim about his last caught villain would -hopefully- be enough to deter the nightmares sure to come with sunfall.

“Anyway, he’s good. What about Donna?”

Cassie let her head fall back between her shoulder blades with a groan, closing her eyes against the glaring midday sun.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I love her to pieces, but honestly? I can see why my mom has so many grey hairs. Diana is lucky she’s perpetually young and perfect and thus doesn’t need to deal with stress lines. If this is what I was like when she trained me, I have a lot to apologize for. Starting, but not limited to, our days in Young Justice. We did so many stupid things back then.”

“So, the Titans are a riot?”

“They are a bad influence, and I hate how they taught Donna to disobey when I tell her to go to safety and let me do the fighting, but honestly, it’s so much like looking at our past, I can’t help but want to wrap them up in a blanket and wish them luck.”

“I wish you luck. This is why I refuse to take a younger hero under my wing. Too much responsibility.”

“You are a weak bitch. Even Bart is mentoring someone. We have to nourish the younger generation, Kon. Think of the children.”

“You are nineteen, stop talking like you just turned seventy.”

“Well, Cissie is retired. It’s not such a stretch.”

“I’ll tell her you said she’s old.”

“Don’t you dare.”

After those first few hiccups, the rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Uncharacteristically restrained of them, no food fight ensued, but even so it was a pretty fun day. They caught up with each other, teased about past exes and questionable fashion choices, and every silent, solemn moment was endured with joined hands and hearts, a united front against the grief.

Bart’s wet eyes shone, filled with gratitude, when he blew the candles. Cassie caught the exact moment on camera, having learnt the value of getting those precious seconds immortalized forever somewhere other than her own mind.

He kept his wish to himself, but it wasn’t really a mystery. Just by the way he glanced at Tim, they could harnett a pretty solid guess.

Heartache was a familiar, almost comforting feeling to her now, but the wave of raw emotion that almost washed her away at Kon’s crystalized eyes and Bart’s trembling hands gave her pause. Cassie looked away from them for just a second, giving herself this moment of weakness, and in the fleeting light of sunset, she could have sworn she saw a familiar face, looking over them from the shadow of a tree, smiling fondly.

But it was missing with her next blink, so she just shook her head to dispel any traces of wistfulness and turned back to her boys.

It was in silence that they picked up their stuff. Super speed would have made it a chore of just a millisecond, but none felt the urge to run away, so they took their time, hands brushing and then clutching while they cleaned up this sacred place they had borrowed for the day.

Cassie really needed to thank Damian for coming through for her on this. As much as she had despised the other vigilante in the past, a leftover feeling from Tim’s own feud with his older brother, she had learned to forgive and forget. It was, she’d come to accept, the only way she could move on.

Basket finally full with the blanket, empty plates and chocolate stained napkins (Kon’s hand had trembled as he cleaned Bart’s cheek in their leader’s stead), they stood together, arms around each other with the birthday boy in the middle. One by one, they said their goodbyes. It hurted a little less than the last time they could manage to do this, perhaps helped by the fact Kon hadn’t stormed off midway this time.

Cassie smiled. It was sad, it was raw, it was heavy. But it wasn’t broken. She-they- weren’t broken. A puzzle with a missing piece was incomplete, not shattered.

The hand not around Bart’s shoulders stretched, as Cassie’s finger traced the poem they had Bruce engrave in Tim’s tombstone.

“He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

The kids that had chosen that poem as immortalization of their grief had been drowning in it, she knew. Had needed a way to let the world know “we are not okay, we’ll never be okay again”. It was, maybe, what saved them back then.

But she wished she could crouch down in front of those lost, overwhelmed kids and tell them ‘you never stop missing him, but you learn to be happy again; and he brings you all together, just like the first time’.

So Cassandra Sandsmark, former Wonder Girl (now something more), lets her head fall back, looks at the setting sun and smiles. Because she can. Because she’s alive, and she’s gonna fucking smile for him, if its the last thing that she does.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The shadows of the coming night hide him, embrace him, want to keep him; he puts a stop to that, let’s himself be kept from wandering eyes but avoids the eternal retaking. He’s seen that side of the road and is under no hurry to visit it again.

Instead, he watches the young heroes, bathed in light and laughter, sitting around a dead bird’s grave.

He yearns. He wants, more than anything, to go to them. To join them in the warmth, in happiness. To go back to the only home that never felt anything else than welcoming.

But he has work to do; there’s a new Robin in the streets, and he needs to ensure that what happened to him doesn’t happen to this frail, rough around the edges and full of life bird.

He waits until they pick up and leave, before donning his suit and walking in the opposite direction. Hopefully, a time will soon come when he can smile with them again.

But, for now, the Red Hood has a clown to hunt and a criminal underbelly to conquer.

#my writting #tim drake #kon el kent #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #core disaster week #core four #day 1 #Bart's birthday #angst #hurt comfort #kinda #don't yell at me #I'm sorry I didn't edit this #I'm in Sk8 the Infinity hell right now #no thoughts head empty only Renga from Sk8

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cuculine-nelipot · 4 years

Text

Wish We Could

Chapter One: Loved You First

{ Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary: After the Battle of Howgarts, Hermione and Ron start dating; their slow-burn friends to lovers arc complete. He’s nice, and she’s comfortable, and everyone is happy for them. Everyone but Fred, who can’t stop thinking that he loved her first, and Hermione, who begins to wonder if they really are as over as she thought they were. }

2nd May 1998, The Battle at Hogwarts

Hermione Jean Granger was far from perfect. No one knew that better than she did. But she was careful, and she didn’t break things she couldn’t fix, or at least she didn’t used to. So you can imagine the devastation she felt when she kissed Ron, when he kissed her back, and the years of bickering, and flirting with flirting ended in that one, cataclysmic moment. She saw Fred watching, she saw the break; the life she then realised she wanted more than anything broke to pieces right there in his startlingly green eyes. She heard Harry yell something at them, Ron peeled away, laughing, and Fred was gone. The show went on, as it had to, as it must, because if there is one thing Hermione had learnt in her life, it’s that there is no such thing as a person, only players, and there is no free will, only the cruel pen of fate, and Hermione was its unwitting almost-heroine.

22nd August 1998, Morning

So maybe things aren’t so bad. Ron is sweet, or he is trying to be. Ron calls precisely when he says he will. Ron comes to dinner with her parents. Ron tries his hardest to at least look like he is following their dentist-talk. Ron’s kisses are soft, though they tend to be more mushy than gentle. Ron smells like strawberry shampoo. Ron is learning everything he can about cricket, and Chelsea F.C, and Ron is memorising her favourites of everything. Ron is a practiced mummy’s boy, and hers simply adores him. And Ron is her friend, has been since First Year. Together they have fought trolls and rode dragons. They almost died together more times than she cares to count. Theirs is the story you couldn’t write, a romance blown to epic proportions, this love is sweeter than fiction, — right? So why is she so nervous?

Ron arrives at 0930 sharp, dressed in respectable dark grey trousers and a blood red jumper. He kisses Hermione on the cheek, hugs Mrs. Granger, and shares a firm handshake with Mr. Granger. He hands Hermione a bouquet of garden roses because, she supposes, they look enough like peonies. On observing that his white shirt collar is crumpled and half tucked in, she compulsively reaches out and straightens it. He blushes, and from the corner of her eye she sees her mother purse her lips as though trying not to smile, a gleam in her eye as she witnesses this small act of intimacy. Hermione drops her hand, wishing she could take it back.

The again restored powder blue Ford Anglia idles in the driveway. Mr. Granger makes a remark about car batteries, and Ron agrees, saying nothing of the vehicle’s extra-ordinary traits. He holds the door open for Mrs Granger and Hermione. You look beautiful today, he says as the latter slides past him. This is the first time her parents are visiting The Burrow, so she thought they would be more comfortable undertaking the journey the muggle way. Her parents, quite understandably, have become just the slightest bit skittish around magic since learning of their daughter’s escapades, starting from aged 12 to seven months ago, including the fact that she had erased their memories and sent them to Australia for the better part of a year. This had the unforeseen and rather unfortunate side-effect of inspiring in them a strong desire to become more involved in the social aspects of her ‘other life’, as they had come to think of it. When Ron showed up one day, shortly after she gave them back their memories, and re-introduced himself as her boyfriend, this day became inevitable. And so, they are on their way Ottery St. Catchpole to visit the Weasleys.

The conversation flows well enough, Ron proves surprisingly adept at keeping the usually rather withdrawn Mr. and Mrs. Granger talking about their work, and sports. Her parents, eager to make up for lost time, and to know everything about their daughter’s apparent suitor, ask him lots of questions about the upcoming school year, and the adventures of their past, though there is a significant portion they skirt around (the time she was petrified for instance). Ron knows when to listen and when to ask the right questions. Ron knows which stories to tell. Ron keeps them laughing enough that they don’t notice the ride to Devon is going much faster than the laws of physics allowed. And Hermione looks out the window, and says nothing. It is a scenic drive to the West Country. All rolling fields and blue skies. The sun, a pale gold, trips lightly through a barely there mist, and everything shimmers.

“Is everything okay?” Her mother asks, nudging her with her elbow. Hermione half turns to look at her and nods, saying nothing of the cold dampness rolling through her stomach.

19th June 1996

It didn’t come out of nowhere, their first kiss, though it would have looked that way to anyone watching. Maybe it wasn’t the best timing — okay it was terrible timing — but time suddenly seemed to be in short supply. After all, she had just almost died again — Hermione, and everyone else who had been at the Department of Mysteries the night before. It must have been afternoon but it was impossible to tell with the curtains drawn, shading the ward an artificial dusk. Everyone was sound asleep except her, and Sirius, who was in another room going mad from his glimpse beyond the veil. Hermione was reading a book. She could always find one.

Fred walked in alone. She remembered thinking that was weird, but when he pressed his lips to hers, it became apparent why. “What are you doing here?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“Well in case you missed it, my brother, my sister, and my friends all just almost died. I got here is soon as I could.” He skips over the words with characteristic lightness, but there’s a gravity in his aspect she had never seen before.

“Well in that case you’re late,” she teases, her tired face jerking in the vague likeness of a smile.

“It’s just gone past seven in the morning,” he frowns, and brushes the hair from her cheek, “what time did you think it was?”

“Afternoon,” she sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “So I only slept for a few minutes then.”

“I’ll ask a nurse to get you more Sleeping Draught.” He turned to go but she grabbed his wrist to stop him. It seemed too intimate, but she liked it, and judging the grin that flitted across his face, so did he.

“Don’t. They’re busy.”

“You need to sleep. You’re a patient too.” He leaned down, gently kissed her on the forehead, and swept her hair back. “I’ll be right back.”

22nd August 1998, Afternoon

Hermione had hoped that she would have to act as mediator between her parents and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and that she would therefore be much too preoccupied to worry about how uniquely uncomfortable the circumstances are. But she had no such luck. Not only was Fred everywhere, but her parents and the Weasleys got along famously. Ron had apparently well-advised his father on the appropriate number of muggle-specific questions to ask in an hour (one), and their mothers shared a passion for gardening. Already there was talk of exchanging various herb seedlings. She should be relieved, happy even, and it occurs to her that under different circumstances she would have been.

The rest of the gang had peeled away shortly after lunch in search of something more entertaining, leaving her and Ron alone with the parents. Hermione politely excuses herself from the table.

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to Granger?” This particular red-haired boy that she almost slams into is missing an ear.

“George!” The smile that creeps across her face is nothing short of ebullient. Perhaps even more so than his twin, George Weasley could put near anyone in a good humour. “I wasn’t sneaking off anywhere. I just… needed to use the loo.”

“Pity. We were just about to throw the Quaffle around. Could do with a sixth. I was meant to get Percy but I’m sure everyone would much prefer you.”

“Everyone?” She asks skeptically. George was, of course, the only one who knew about the car crash that had been hers and Fred’s… whatever it was.

“Everyone,” he insists.

It’s cold for August, the sky is clear and the sun is still shining in that enchanted way. If there was a such a thing as perfect Quidditch weather, even Hermione would have had to admit that this was it. Harry has his arms wrapped around Ginny, saying something in her ear that makes them both laugh. Fred and Charlie talk a few feet away, watching them with equally perplexed and somewhat revolted expressions.

“If I saw Ron doing that I might just puke,” she hears Fred say. She could have heard him say anything and smile, but that particular remark makes something spark in her heart that she fights hard to stifle. “Oh, Hermione!” His pond-weed green eyes widen comically when he catches sight of her, the skin of his cheekbones turning pink. “Hi Hermione, hey!” He shifts his weight uncomfortably and looks away.

“Fred,” she says, cool as ever. “Hey Charlie!”

“I’m sorry, Hermione was it?” He asks with a teasing glance at Fred. “It’s good to see you again,” he adds, and gives her a brawny hug. She hadn’t actually managed to properly say hi to anyone earlier, there was so much excitement about Ron and Hermione, and The Meeting of the Parents. Harry and Ginny tear themselves apart and come over, and more hugs are shared. The divide themselves into teams of three, and for the first time in a while everything feels almost normal.

While she is by far the weakest player between the six of them, one simply could not spend years around Quidditch buffs without picking up a few things and Hermione, a true perfectionist, was now more than capable of sort of holding her own. And besides, Ginny was the only one present who actually played as a Chaser; George and Fred are more suited to whacking than passing, and Charlie and Harry, like most Seekers, are terrible at paying attention to other people. After a far too lengthy debate it was decided that the most balanced configuration was Hermione, George, and Harry against Ginny, Charlie, and Fred. Things get off to a slow start; it was nearly impossible to get Harry and Ginny to stop flirting and actually play the damned game. But once George slips past Charlie and scores an easy goal, it’s game on. He and Harry score five more between them in quick succession. Ginny, not one to take losing lightly, especially not to her Seeker boyfriend, ‘accidentally’ sends the Quaffle flying at Harry’s head, causing it to ricochet straight into Fred’s hands, and he makes fast work of scoring. They equalise soon after.

The game quickly degenerates into anarchy. Ginny bites George’s arm to keep him from scoring. Hermione flies up behind Harry and covers his eyes as he tries to make a pass. At some point, Charlie takes a shot and both George and Hermione dive to save it, ramming into each other head first. Hermione, much smaller, and the weaker flyer, falls off and George lunges to grab her arm but misses, so she’s free falling. Everyone swoops in to catch her but Fred gets there first. She slams into his outstretched arms, and his broom jerks down, threatening to send them both tumbling to the ground but he manages a semi-controlled landing and they both stumble onto the grass, winded and half in shock, but otherwise okay. Bending over with their hands on their knees, they catch their breaths while the others land one by one. Their eyes meet, and they experience a fleeting, shinning moment of absolute clarity.

“Well I suppose it’s been a good few months since someone’s almost died,” Ginny quips. All faces turn to her, stunned, speechless. She shrugs and makes a face as if to say am I wrong? And just like that the tension dissolves into hysterics, and they’re laughing — side-stitch, red-face, on the floor laughing harder than any of them have in longer than they can remember.

“Sorry,” George manages between gasps for air. “I’m really sorry.”

“You better be careful Georgie,” Fred says with a pointed, peevish sideways glance in Hermione’s direction, “wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of ickle Ronnikins now would we?” In that moment she swears she could deck him, and she’s sure he only said it because he knows she can’t.

“What’s going on here?” The voice cuts through the hilarity like an ice pick.

“Nothing dad!” Hermione trills defensively “We were just messing around.”

“Well no one invited me,” Ron groans at what he thinks is a discrete volume, but earns their party a withering look from Mrs. Weasley anyway.

“Sorry Ron,” Charlie offers diplomatically, “but we had an even six and if you joined then we would have had to ask Percy to play too —”

“— I heard that!” Comes the disembodied screech from inside.

“— which we of course would have thoroughly enjoyed but he’s just so hard at work helping to rebuild the wizarding world in these trying times.” Charlie works very hard at keeping a straight face while the rest of them burst into laughter again. He may have been laying it on a bit thick, but it works well enough to put an end to the subject, and they all go inside for tea. Fred shoots Hermione another peevish grin, and this time it’s undeniable; she wants to kiss him as much as she wants to absolutely eviscerate him.

Evening

No, Fred Weasley does not know what he’s doing. He just know it’s a bad idea, and that he can’t stop himself. He can’t stop his heart working double-time whenever he catches sight of Hermione. He can’t stop watching his younger brother talking to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and thinking that it should be him. He couldn’t stop the rush he felt when he had Hermione in his arms, and he can’t stop wishing that he hadn’t had to let go. He couldn’t stop the hope that sparked in his chest when they landed and she looked at him that way, and he can’t stop it happening again every time he replays the moment in his head. He also cannot stop replying the moment in his head.

He can’t stop looking at her. He couldn’t stop himself from sitting across from her at dinner. He can’t stop himself brushing her fingers when she passes him the butter, and the salt, and the pepper and the peas. He can’t stop looking at how her skin glows bronze, and her dark hair flecks golden red in the warm, floating-candle light. He can’t stop thinking how he loved her first. He can’t stop any of it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here,” Charlie says low into his ear, after the third time he asks Hermione to please pass the plate of Yorkshire puddings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s dating our brother.”

“I know that.”

“So what are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything” he snaps, struggling to keep an even keel. Charlie leans back with a satisfied smirk and says no more on the subject for the rest of dinner, but he does yelp when Fred spills hot soup onto his lap.

20th June 1996

Already Hogwarts felt like something from another age. Was it just months ago George and Fred turned the fifth floor corridor into a swamp and flew off into the sunset, hanging up their blue and and bronze ties with so much flair and theatricality? It didn’t seem possible. Held up in the early morning’s grey light, against the dense mist rolling over the glassy, black lake, that moment seems somewhat lurid now. So Voldermort was back. They already knew that, and now everyone else did too.

“Are we going to talk about yesterday?” Hermione asks, her voice splintering the thin silence. The question catches him entirely by surprise. First because he wasn’t sure how she knew it was him coming up behind her. Second because she had seemed to be ignoring him since the hospital.

“Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

“Why did you kiss me?” She tried to sound cold, but a slight whine in her voice made it obvious that she had been fretting over the question.

“Because I wanted too, and because I almost didn’t get the chance.

After some consideration, during which she was completely still and he shifted anxiously on his feet, she turned to him and said, “I think I’d like to do it again. Just to see.”

He kissed her without hesitation, tilting her head back with his hands on either side of her face. It was brief and it was sweet. “Was that okay?”

“That was perfect. Thank you.” She turned back to face the lake, agonisingly unreadable. After a moment, she reached out and silently took his hand.

22nd August 1998, Night

There is nothing Hermione wants more than to dive into bed and stay there until it’s time to go to King’s Cross. Or better, to simply wake up on the 2nd of September and find herself in History of Magic, or Transfiguration. Maybe if she was lucky, Professor McGonagall would teach her how to turn herself into a teapot. At least that way she will always be full of tea and she’ll never have to think about boys again. But no, there had to be showers, and hot chocolate, and going over the evening with her parents in agonising detail. When she at last manages to escape, she is already halfway up the stairs when her mother calls out.

“The twin with both ears — Fred — was he the young man that used to call all the time?”

“Yes,” Hermione replies curtly, a prickle of heat rising up her neck.

“What happened between the two of you?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs, trying her best to look nonchalant. Too much. Not enough.

She tries to go to sleep but fails. She reads but can’t concentrate, as is wont to happen on the rare occasions books seem to yield no answers or insight. Eventually she takes to laying upside down on her bed, staring at the pinprick lights criss-crossing her ceiling. There’s a tap at her window, and turning her head reveals a familiar old bird. A really old bird. At the sight of Errol she scrambles, perhaps a little too excitedly, to slide the window open. He offers her his leg, and the attached scrap of parchment. She scratches his head and offers him the small bowl of birdseed she keeps nearby for such occasions. He flies away. She unfurls the note, and sees the familiar, elegant script that he uses when he’s up to something:

Mademoiselle Granger,

I would like to request the joy of your company at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour this coming Monday, the twenty-fourth of August, at ten o’clock ante meridiem.

Sincerely, F. Weasley

chapter one | chapter two

#fremione #fremione fanfiction #fred x hermione #hermione granger #fred weasely #harry potter fanfiction #fred x hermione fanfinction #hermione granger fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #I was half asleep when I proof read this so PLEASE let me know if there are any errors #mine

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katefiction · 4 years

Text

Revolution, Part 2

by katefiction (Maria) / 2014

The plane hit the tarmac hard. George bounced off my lap momentarily but didn’t wake from the six hour sleep he’d enjoyed; his head lopped to one side.

I leaned towards the window to watch as we slowed to a stop. All I could see was the golden brown hue of dust. This wasn’t your usual runway, in fact it wasn’t even an airport.

When Susannah had left us at an airfield just outside London, I knew instantly that our flight wouldn’t be taking us to a regular city airport somewhere in Iowa. There was no checking in, scanning our passports or going through security; just a field and a small patch of tarmac. The plane was small and shabby, and as it spluttered into life, I worried about whether it would manage a nine hour flight.

Susannah, if sensing my anxiety, apologised, ‘I’m sorry Ma’am, it’s all Jamie could do at short notice’

I placed on a weak smile, ‘it’s fine, as long as it gets us there’.

Get us there it did, and we were finally in Iowa, with my one and only clue of finding William.

Once the plane was still, I unclipped George from his infant seat belt and then did my own and headed to the doors. The pilot and his co-pilot were the only other two on board and the plane juddered as the co-pilot jumped out to let the steps down for me.

‘Thank you’ I said, barely managing to see him through the dust as I took the hesitant steps off the plane.

He said nothing and instead walked to the back of the plane to open the baggage bin. I heard a thump and turned to see him throwing my three bags unceremoniously onto the ground.

Around us was nothing but land as far as the eye could see. Green grass shriveled to brown in the searing heat and dust rose up in clouds with each step I took.

By now, the change in atmosphere had woken George up, and he sleepily rested his head on my shoulder, blinking away the dust and sunlight that were irritating his eyes.

I pulled my bags away from the plane and onto the side of the runway-come-dirt track, and waited as the co-pilot did what appeared to be some checks on the plane. After twenty minutes and a refuel from two tanks kept at the back, he banged his hand on the side of the plane twice, and the low rumble of the engine began.

He turned to look at George and me waiting expectantly on the track, and briefly gave us a puzzled expression, before striding towards the plane.

‘Um…excuse me!’ I called.

He turned, ‘yes?’

‘Are you taking us somewhere else?’

He furrowed his brow, ‘we’re going somewhere else, I don’t know about you’

‘Oh’ I said, trying not to show the surprise on my face. ‘So um, will there be a car coming to take us to Redfern because this is a little too hot for him’

I indicated to George, whose face was turning red.

‘No idea, we were told to bring you here, that’s all’ he said shortly and made moves to get back onto the plane.

‘Wait!’ I shouted, trotting up to the cockpit, ‘I don’t even know where we are, where am I supposed to go?!’

‘Not my problem’, he shrugged and got into his seat.

My face must have been covered in panic, because a moment later, he stuck his head out of the window. ‘Bus stop is that way!’ he pointed to the left.

With that, the plane chugged its way along the track and disappeared into the sky, leaving me, George and our bags deserted on the road, in the middle of nowhere. Two small fish in one very big pond.

I should’ve known this would happen, I thought to myself as I sat on a tree stump making up some formula for George.

It had only taken ten minutes of walking in the direction of the elusive ‘bus stop’ for him to start wailing with hunger. I was hopeful for a moment that the sheer volume of his voice would alert someone to come and help us, but we hadn’t seen a soul since the plane left.

Truth be told, I needed to sit down too. Carrying three bags and a baby felt like a mountain trek in this blinding heat. It hadn’t occurred to me to change my watch before we left, but I decided it must be the afternoon, given the sun’s position, and I hadn’t eaten anything in twelve hours.

I munched down on an oat bar that I’d packed as George drunk, surprising myself at how hungry I was. My appetite had disappeared along with William and this was the first time in days that I felt that familiar pang in my stomach, as if to remind me I was still human.

I rifled through the back pack and found George’s little red sun hat and placed it on his head. I had stupidly chosen to wear jeans, and was regretting it intensely as the sweat permeated the fabric and rubbed against my skin. I pulled my hair into a bun on the top of my head and placed my face in my hands.

I had no idea where we were, my phone had no signal, and my baby was close to getting sun stroke. This was not how it was supposed to be.

George seemed to sense my fear at that moment and began to cry.

‘Hey, it’s ok’, I said in my most soothing voice and picked him up to rock him close to me. ‘We’ll find our way, I promise. And then we’ll find daddy and he’ll give you the biggest cuddle because I bet he’s missed you so much’

My eyes started to sting and I forced William out of my head. As convinced as I was at the time, going to Redfern was nothing more than an impulsive whim. What had I been thinking to bring George here?

When we watched the palace being seized, I thought I’d understood that meant the end for us. The reality of ‘the end’ only truly hit me as I sat on that tree stump, miles of emptiness each way I looked. Jamie had organised that plane as a favour, I realised. He had no obligation to us anymore; it wasn’t his job to look after us.

The monarchy was abolished in all but writing. How could I expect a car to come and pick us up and take us to Redfern? How could I expect anyone to do anything for us now? I dug my nails into my palm, so scared and angry, I could scream.

Only George stopped me from doing so, and as we got up to keep going, I changed my focus to him. I couldn’t let this be about finding William and let the disappointment crush us if he wasn’t here. Now this was about getting George to safety.

Forty minutes into our walk and my feet were dragging in the dirt. The sun was relentless, and finding any shade was impossible. George had wanted to walk at random intermissions, but had soon got tired and I was carrying him once again, my arm becoming dead from the weight.

In the distance, a small light suddenly shimmered into view. I shut my eyes and opened them again, suspecting it was my eyes playing tricks on me. But the light remained and it was coming closer and forming into a shape.

A car.

My heart leapt and I stopped, ready to wave it down. As it got closer though, I heard my doubt creeping in. What if they recognise us?

I took in my situation: a woman and a baby alone on a deserted road, and they could be anyone.

My protective instinct kicked in and I carried on walking before the car could get close. But it had already seen me stopping and slowed as it approached. The window rolled down.

‘You ok there ma’am?’ the man said, a thick grey beard covering his face. My heart skipped at the sound of the word ‘ma’am’ before I remembered that this was America.

‘Fine thank you’ I said, walking as fast as I could.

‘You tryin’ to get somewhere?’

‘Just the bus stop’ I said cautiously and added, ‘is it close?’

‘Keep going for another half a mile’ he said. ‘You want a ride?’

‘No no we’re fine, and you’re going the opposite way anyway’

‘I can turn around’ he said and began to reverse slowly in time with my pace, like a snake slithering in the grass.

Sweat beads started forming in my hands.

‘I said no!!!’ I snapped.

‘Jeez, forget it’ he said switching gears, and sped off, his tires sending small stones flicking in our direction.

I wiped my hand on my jeans and felt my body relax. Maybe he was just being friendly, or maybe he wasn’t. Over the years, I’d learnt to trust very few people. For better or worse, putting my guard up was one thing that had come out of being with William.

Right now it felt like the only good thing he had ever given me was the little boy on my hip.

‘Nearly there baby’ I said to George as he gazed into the distance, clearly wanting to sleep.

I sped up, encouraged by the stranger’s confirmation that the bus stop wasn’t far and after ten minutes, I saw it. Just a metal pole with a bus sign attached. If you blinked you would miss it, but to me it was like finding water in a desert.

I breathed a sigh of relief, sat down on the ground and waited.

When I saw a bus approach, I stood and stuck out my hand long before it had a chance to see us. There was no way I would let it miss me. It came to a creaking stop beside us and George let out an involuntary ‘ooh’.

The doors creaked open and I piled us and our bags on. A large woman sat at the helm, chewing on some gum and a few passengers were dotted among the worn seats.

‘Are you going to Redfern?’ I asked wiping the sweaty hair from my face.

‘Twenty’ the bus driver said glancing at us before returning her gaze ahead.

‘Oh…so you are going there?, I just want to check because I’m new around here and a little lost’ I rambled despite myself.

She looked at me, deeply unimpressed, ‘yes, twenty dollars’

I scrambled around in my backpack and found my purse. My heart dropped when I looked inside.

‘I don’t suppose you take pounds?’ I said sweetly.

She threw me a dirty look, ‘twenty dollars or get off my bus’

I panicked and could think of nothing to do but beg, ‘look please, my baby’s been in the sun for over an hour, I need to get to Redfern and this is all I have, please…’ I shoved two twenty pound notes in her direction, ‘here have double, you can change it later surely?’

The woman eyed the notes, ‘you think I’m stupid, lady? I know what’s going on in your country; she won’t be on those notes for much longer, your money’s useless here’

I looked down at the notes, seeing the Queen’s face staring back at me.

‘This is perfectly good money!’ I pleaded, ‘I’m giving you double, I have more if you want it’

‘You might as well give me this gum for all that’s worth’, she spit the gum into her hand and threw it out the window, ‘now get off my bus’

Just as I was considering getting onto my knees to beg, a figure appeared by my side and passed her a twenty dollar note.

I looked over, an old man with a walking cane and all but five teeth missing smiled at me.

‘Thank you so much’ I said quietly as the doors slammed shut and the bus set off.

‘No trouble’ he said in a hoarse voice and eyed the notes with his pearly blue eyes.

‘Oh here’ I said, handing them over, ‘please have both of them, it’s the least I can do. I’m sure you’ll be able to get them changed’

‘Oh no no’ he croaked, taking the notes and pocketing them, ‘I’m keeping these, they’ll be worth something in a few years time’

I got the feeling this man was a hoarder by the look of his moth eaten shirt, and yet vintage looking watch. He reminded me somewhat of a crow, swooping down on anything shiny.

As I walked to the very back of the bus with George, he remarked, ‘nothing better than a souvenir from a sinking ship’ and patted his pocket.

I smiled at the thought of him inside Buckingham Palace, choosing between all the treasures that must be up for grabs. The memory of the Republic taking the palace suddenly re-entered my mind and made me wince.

Despite the stuffiness of the bus, the journey was a welcome respite. I managed to feed and change George after he slept for an hour and a half, and cleaned him up as best I could without the luxury of hot water and a bath.

He was much happier now and giggled merrily as I sang The wheels on the bus to him. The other passengers on the bus didn’t seem so appreciative and shot me dirty looks as I sang. But for once I didn’t care what other people thought of me.

I hadn’t bothered to ask the bus driver how long the journey to Redfern was. I was prepared to wait for as long as it took. My patience paid off, because after two and a half hours, when it was only me and the old crow man left, the bus came to grinding stop.

‘Last stop, everyone off!’ the bus driver shouted and I gathered my belongings.

‘Is this Redfern?’ I asked the old man as we alighted.

‘One and only’ he laughed like it was a joke I should be in on.

I looked to the left and right once the bus had left. Redfern appeared to be what I’d heard called a ‘one stoplight town’. Just one road with rows of shops was before me. I assumed the houses for the 104 residents must be close by.

‘I don’t suppose there are any hotels here?’ I asked, and immediately realised how stupid it must’ve sounded.

‘No ma’am, Mary might have a room if you’re lucky’ he said.

I seized at the chance of a place to stay, ‘and where would she be?’

He pointed behind me where a rickety old building stood with a wooden sign reading Mary’s Bar and Inn.

At least I didn’t have to travel far this time, I thought with forced optimism.

‘Thank you so much…for everything’ I said.

‘See you around’ he said, hobbling off. I had a feeling that in a town this small, I probably would.

Mary’s was just how I imagined it when I pushed open the wooden door. The small bar that faced the door was held up precariously by a pile of wood on one side. It was lined with wooden stools whose upholstery was torn and bore the marks of cigarette butts. Only one man occupied the stools and a small middle-aged woman stood behind the bar, cleaning a glass.

She looked at George and me with suspicion, ‘can I help you?’

I walked towards the bar, carefully avoiding the spilt drink on the floor, ‘I was wondering if you had any rooms available?’

Her green eyes looked as though they were scoping me out to see if I was any threat to her and her little town. Clearly my dishevelled appearance and George who was chanting ‘woh woh woh!’ on repeat to the man at the bar were harmless and she softened.

‘Twenty five for the night ok?’ she asked in a strong accent.

‘Fine, but I’m afraid I only have pounds. The lady on the bus wouldn’t take them but I promise they’re fine, if you can point me to a post office tomorrow, I can change them…I can leave you something like my watch as deposit if you like, we just need somewhere to stay tonight and…’

‘Whoa there’ she held her hands up, ‘I don’t need your life story, pounds’ll do for now’

I laughed weakly, ‘sorry, it’s been a long day’.

‘Let me show you to your room, you look like you need the rest’ she said and led us up a narrow staircase to the side of the bar.

It turned out that the ‘inn’ part of Mary’s was just two small rooms, each equip with a chest of drawers, a bed and a window. It also turned out that we were its only visitors.

Mary handed me the key and pointed down the hall, ‘That’s my bedroom if you need anything, bathroom’s next door’

‘Thank you, this is perfect’

‘If you hear a racket in the morning, it’s just the delivery guys, we start pretty early around here’

‘I’m sure this one will be awake at the crack of dawn anyway’ I said gesturing to George.

Mary tickled his chin and he squirmed away, smiling at her, ‘does he have a name?’

‘G- uh- Alexander’ I said, stumbling. ‘And I’m Libby’

‘Well good night Alexander, sleep tight’

George blinked at her and after wishing her a good night, we retreated to our room.

I changed him into a baby grow and rocked him to sleep as he fed lazily on a bottle. I would have to make sure I got him some solid food the next day. After tucking him in, I peeled off my clothes and noticed I hadn’t packed myself anything to wear in bed. A t-shirt would have to do.

My body reacted to the bed as soon as I lay down, sinking into the hard springs with relief. My mind however, was buzzing. It was as if I could hear the crickets chirping outside.

Surely in a town of 104, William couldn’t be that hard to find. If he was here at all. And if he wanted to be found.

I slept fitfully that night, my eyes popping open every hour or so. My dreams were littered with a collection of absurdities; planes and crows swooping into the palace, chewing gum stuck to my hair, and William, driving us on a bus to nowhere.

Early the next morning George woke happy and refreshed from a good night’s sleep. Nevertheless, he was hungry and the powdered milk I’d been giving him was rejected as soon as I’d tried to put it in his mouth. We had put him onto full fat milk a month before, and he loved it. Now he needed something solid to keep him going.

We dressed and went down to the bar where Mary was stocking up on drinks.

‘Morning’ I said.

‘Morning to you, sleep well?’ she asked, bending down to stock the spirits.

‘Very well thank you’ I lied, ‘I was wondering where I could pick up some milk and something to eat for him?’

She looked up at the clock on the wall which had just struck 6.30, ‘at this time? We don’t even have 7-11s out here’ she laughed.

My heart sunk and I wondered if it would be too much to ask her for something to eat.

Reading my mind, she added, ‘I would give you something but I’m waiting for my milk delivery myself, and I’m all out of eggs and bread. Does he like tilapia?’

‘Um…’

She laughed again, ‘it’s a fish’

‘Oh, maybe not yet, though he will eat anything’

She stood up straight and placed a hand on her hip, ‘I tell you what, if you want some air, you could go down to the farm to see if any milk is ready, Bette makes bread too so she might have some if you’re lucky. They’re the only place up earlier than me in this town’

The thought of walking made my feet ache after yesterday, but I supposed I might as well.

Mary rung open the till and dug out some cash, ‘here, you can pick me up a loaf and some eggs while you’re there…and you can pay me back in dollars later’

I smiled ruefully. Who would’ve thought I’d ever need to borrow money.

With my mind focused on getting food for George, I’d tried to put the reason we were there to a corner of my mind. Maybe I was scared of what I would find. Or what I wouldn’t.

‘Mary?’ I began, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen a man come in here or around town. My age, tall, blond hair?’

Mary stood and thought for a moment, sticking out her bottom lip, ‘nope, should I?’

I tried not to let the disappointment show and fixed a smile on, ‘it’s fine, it was a long shot’ I said, suddenly not able to meet her eye.

After Mary gave me the directions to the farm, George and I set off. It was a beautiful day, and I found myself actually enjoying the walk and the fresh air as it breezed through my hair. I could still feel the weight under my eyes from the days of sleepless nights, but something about having a goal kept me going. Even if it was just bread and milk.

We weaved our way through the houses that were behind Redfern’s main street and carried on until we found the large crop fields that Mary had described. The farm covered acres and acres of land and I had to squint to see the white farm house and outbuildings that went with it.

George was completely taken with the place and fidgeted to be let down. He stood for a second amongst the long brown crops which stood proudly and were as tall as him.

‘Go on, run!’ I encouraged, pushing his back.

He was clearly unsure of what to do, so used as he was to walled gardens and indoor spaces.

I nudged him again and he took a step reluctantly. I felt a pang of guilt as I imagined Lupo running free here with George chasing him.

I bent down to his level, ‘I bet you can’t catch Mummy’ and set off on a slow exaggerated jog.

‘Mu!’ he squealed and came after me, scrabbling at my legs.

I laughed and ran again until he didn’t need any more encouragement and I left him to run and fall through the crops until we got to the farm house.

Mary had told me to knock at the door because Bette would probably be inside baking. When no answer came, I tried again. Even George had a go, bashing at the door with his palm.

‘I don’t think she’s here, shall we go look around the side?’

We walked around to the side of the house where some cows were grazing in a field. George wondered over to them and watched them from a respectful distance with his hands behind his back.

Over to the back of the house was a barn and a red pick-up truck parked outside. I watched as a figure carrying a bale of hay on their shoulder came in to view. They walked to the truck and threw it in the back, before going back to the barn to get some more.

Just when I was beginning to think this place was deserted.

I strode over, calling to the person as they came back out of the barn, ‘excuse me! I’m looking for Bette…’

‘She’s away for a couple of days’ the man called back as he threw another bale in.

I turned to check George was ok, ‘maybe you can help? I was after some milk and e-‘

I returned my gaze to find him standing by the truck like he’d been frozen to the spot. My voice caught in my throat.

‘William’

It was his hands I noticed first, covered in dirt, his nails blackened underneath. Then came his face, a light covering of hair formed over his jaw and chin, but there was a glow to him I hadn’t seen in months. The darkness had lifted from under his eyes, but they were still the same blue jewels. On his head was a Stetson, and as I scanned down his body, I took in a chequed red shirt and jeans.

‘Kate…’ he said, then pausing. ‘…how…?’

I could see a smile beginning to creep up on his face, ‘where’s George? Is he here?’ he said quickly.

‘He’s over there’ I said and turned to watch our boy bouncing up and down on the spot, still fascinated with the cows.

William took a step forward, but I put my hand out.

‘Leave him’

William noticed the lack of warmth in my eyes, ‘are you alright?…how did you get here? I can’t believe this…’

‘I could ask you the same thing’ I said coldly, surprising myself.

‘Baby…’ He reached out his hand and touched my forearm, but I snatched it away. His hand was hard, dry and unfamiliar. I crossed my arms over my body.

‘I’m so glad you’re ok, I’ve missed you’ he offered, glancing over to George. ‘Both of you’

‘It looks like it’ I said quietly.

He sighed and took of his hat to rub his forehead, ‘I was worried you’d be like this’

I didn’t expect to feel like this. I thought the moment I saw him, my body would swell with relief and happiness. And for a second it did, but once that tide rolled back out, all I was left with was raw, unrelenting anger.

‘Are you surprised?!’ I said, louder now. ‘I don’t understand how you could leave us in the middle of the night with nothing but a scrap of paper. Do you have any idea…?!’

He pressed his lips together, ‘let me explain, please’

My chest heaved, but I said nothing, giving him the space to speak.

‘Shall we go inside?’ he asked.

‘No’. I wasn’t ready to let go by letting him sit me down and appease me.

‘How much do you know already?’ he said softly.

‘Nothing, I know nothing’

‘Alec and Steven, they’re working for them’

‘I’d figured that much out’ I said refusing to look at him.

‘I didn’t leave you Kate, I was taken’

My eyes met his and I momentarily felt a flash of regret, but it wasn’t enough to override how I already felt. ‘You don’t look very taken.’

He tried to ignore my comment and continued. ‘The night it happened, I had this feeling something was going on. When I called Jamie to ask him about Papa, he told me to be careful…on guard, and so I was. You remember how I locked all the rooms up?’

I nodded.

‘I just had this inkling that it wouldn’t stop with Papa. I stayed awake all night, listening for a sound that I knew would come. It was about two am when I heard the click of the door. As soon as I heard it, I took George to the panic room and pulled out one of the drawers to use as a cot. I saw an old receipt lying around, scribbled down that note and shoved it in with him.’

He rubbed his jaw and I saw pain flit over his eyes.

‘I walked into the living room and I knew immediately they were there for me. There were three of them, one grabbed my arms and held them behind my back and another went to search the apartment. When he came out, he asked me where ‘the boy’ was. I told them he was with your parents.’

My body stiffened at the thought of someone taking George. ‘Who were they?’

‘The Republic, some other group, people working for Alec and Steven…I honestly don’t know, I just know they wanted me and George out of the way. You have to believe me, I had no idea where they were planning to take me. I didn’t know if they were even going to keep me alive.’

I pulled my arms tighter around myself.

‘The next thing I knew I was being bundled into a car, then a plane and I was deposited here’

‘And you didn’t think to let me know you were ok?!’ I said incredulously.

‘I didn’t have a way. For the first few days, they stayed with me and watched me every minute. They told me not to try anything; that keeping quiet would keep you two out of harm’s way.’

‘I can’t understand why you didn’t tell me, how easy would it have been to wake me up and talk to me? We could’ve sorted it out together, we could’ve run like your father did, but you decided to abandon us instead’

William’s jaw clenched. He was so unused to me being angry with him, and not pouring my love over him. ‘I was protecting you.’

I laughed, ‘you were protecting us? By leaving us alone? Have you any idea what we’ve been through to get here?!’

‘I’m sorry’

I scoffed at the words, which seemed so meaningless.

‘I couldn’t let them take George. Do you honestly think I would’ve let them lay a finger on him?’

I looked away, knowing he was right.

‘If I told you my suspicions, you would’ve insisted we stay together, and I couldn’t let that happen. I realised if they wanted me, they would want George too, so I hid him and hoped they wouldn’t realise I was lying before it was too late.’

‘Alec was so interested in where he was the next morning’ I said.

‘Exactly! In the light of day, they knew they couldn’t take him. Imagine if it got out that they’d kidnapped a child from its mother. I believe they planned to take all of us and when I didn’t let that happen, they settled with just removing me.’

I let the information process. William had known we were in danger and hadn’t told me. When that danger appeared at our door, he gave himself up willingly to protect us. It was the stuff of heroism, yet why didn’t I feel grateful?

‘And now? Where are these men?’ I looked around.

‘They left, but I still feel like I’m being watched’, his eyes shifted over the land.

‘Were you ever going to make contact with me?’ I said quietly. ‘Or is this just a convenient way for you to run from your old life?’

‘Catherine’, he said sternly. He rarely called me that in private ‘Remember I didn’t know where you were either. I watched on the news when the palace was taken, and heard them say that you, George and Harry had gone into hiding. I was sick with worry’

If George hadn’t been there behind us, I could’ve struck him at that moment. ‘YOU were sick with worry?! Poor you!’ I spat.

William’s patience had run thin. If he was expecting an emotional reunion, he certainly wasn’t getting it.

‘What did you want me to do! I thought they were going to hurt you and George’.

‘You should have told me! I am your wife William, I’m not a child!’ I screamed. George turned around and stared at us.

William smiled and gave him a little wave, but he was too far for George to recognize him.

‘I’m sorry ok? You’re here now and we’re together, isn’t that all that matters?’

I shuffled my feet in the dirt. I thought that was all that mattered, finding William safe and reuniting our family was all I’d thought about. But now it was here, why did I want to run as fast as I could?

‘Look, can I please say hello to him?’ William asked.

I nodded and looked away.

William strode up to him and swooped him up off the ground.

‘Hello my boy!’

‘Da! Da! Da!’ George shouted and my heart ballooned.

‘Have you been on adventure GB?’ he said, holding him up in the air. ‘Were you a good boy for Mummy?’

I walked over to the two of them, ‘I wouldn’t call it an adventure’.

He looked at me, concern in his eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh we were just abandoned in the middle of nowhere, walked for miles in the heat to find a bus, were followed down the road by a strange man, and when we found the bus, the woman refused to take my useless money’

William knew anything he said now wouldn’t go down well.

‘But it’s ok, because you were doing it to protect us’ I said with a tight smile. ‘He’s hungry, do you have something for him to eat?’

‘Yeh course, come inside’ he said, trying to place a hand on my back. I shrugged him off.

We entered the kitchen on the side of the house and George and I sat on a wooden bench at the kitchen table as William cut up a banana.

‘This is where you’ve been staying?’ I said, looking around the room, with its wooden beams running across the ceiling and old, chipped appliances on the work tops.

‘Not here exactly. This is Bette’s house, she owns the farm. My place is the outhouse next door’.

He mashed up the banana and started feeding it to George.

‘Your place?’

‘Our place’

George wolfed down each spoonful. ‘Gosh you’re hungry’ William laughed.

‘He’s only had formula milk since we left London’ I said, wiping the smile off his face.

I didn’t want to be cruel, but I couldn’t help it. Finding William here looking better than he left, a healthy tan glowing from his face, wasn’t what I’d expected. Compared to George and I, who were tired, aching and already homesick.

As if hearing my thoughts, William said, ‘you’ll like it here Kate. I know it doesn’t seem like much now, but you’ll get used to it. George can run around all day, and maybe we can get him a pet, I can teach him to ride a horse…’

‘You’ve got it all worked out haven’t you?’

‘Thinking about you two here is what’s been getting me through every day’

He placed his hand over mine and this time I let him, no matter how much I wanted to pull it away.

‘So why did you tell me not to come looking?’

William breathed heavily out of his nose, ‘it was stupid, I was in a panic. I just thought it might stop you from doing anything drastic. I didn’t want you hunting around with Alec and Steven there. If they realised you suspected them, they might’ve…I don’t know, I don’t want to think about what they might’ve of done.’

‘It’s a good thing I didn’t listen to you then’

He smirked, ‘like you ever listen to a word I say’

I averted my gaze to Geroge, not wanting to let him suck me in.

‘What you did was amazing, you know that? George is lucky to have you’

‘Please don’t patronise me’ I said bluntly.

‘I’m not…I’m just…proud of you’

‘I’m glad I have your approval’ I said sarcastically.

‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise’ he said, a pleading tone in his voice. ‘You’ll see, we can have a life here’

William had it all planned in his head, I could tell. A new life for the three of us in this tiny town with no-one we knew. It was his dream after all.

While my head was still stuck in London, worrying about what would happen to our country, our family, our home; he seemed to have thrown it over his shoulder and not looked back. I hadn’t known much when I’d gone to find him, but the vision of us bringing William home was what I’d presumed from the start.

But there we were, all my presumptions and feelings turned on their heads.

My resentment towards William wasn’t going anywhere, and it seemed, neither were we.

#katefiction #royal fanfiction #cambridge fanfiction #kate middleton

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empirefire · 4 years

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when caleb sees someone as his mirror, he comes down to right below their eye level, usually by kneeling before them. --- a way longer meta than anyone needed.

the person we see him do this the most is with nott---nott, the only person he’s fully comfortable with pulling into a hug, scooping up, holding hands, dancing spontaneously with, especially outside of the context of a polymorph-induced intelligence drop ( other than essek more recently, but we’ll get to him in a minute ). from the very beginning, from one of the first episodes, we see him do this consistently: he holds her arms, and kneels down in front of her when they’re talking seriously, often enough lowering himself to where he’s looking up at her from a slight angle despite having more than enough the height to not have to do so.

a part of why they stuck together after the prison was because they were two garbage people, equals in the sense that they had nothing, wanted to share nothing of how they got to where they are and were looking after similar things with survival on the top of their minds. at least, from caleb’s perspective, which we’ve since then learnt to not be the full truth; the distance from veth-nott he started to take was almost immediate. their heart-to-hearts gained physical distance and lost a lot of their casual intimacy to when caleb thought the two as the same, before he found out she is someone he has no right to drag down to where he is: someone successful, someone worthy, someone with every right to the kind of happiness he actively sees beyond his reach and actively denies from himself. ( to go on a mild nott tangent: without rewatching, i can’t pinpoint when that shock thawed enough for the comfort to grow again, but nott’s death in halas’s ball and the discovery that caleb will be able to help, eventually, soon, feels like a good ballpark to put that pin on. by the time of the first transformation attempt, he’s on her level again as he’s saying goodbyes to nott the brave---by the second, he’s welcoming the coming veth brenatto in the same position. )

the second person caleb does this with is the female vollstrecker. not on his first visit, no---that event is filled with hatred, fear, looking into a shattered mirror and not knowing if the cracks are in you or the reflection---but on the second. his explosive, suffocating that is me softens while he thinks over the circumstances that created both of them, the progress he’s made towards understanding that he was abused and brainwashed and the blame towards their teachers starting to return after he’s gotten over the kneejerk reaction of visceral self-hatred towards a mirror of his former self. already when they’re leaving, caleb says he wants to be there for her execution, because she deserves it---while the self-hatred cannot be completely counted out, there’s also an element of kindness in it. he then comes to see her again, this time sitting down on the ground before her instead of towering over her, and speaks to her more as a person, the understanding that she is only equally at fault for what she’s become as he was for what he became having sunk in even if the vollstrecker isn’t recipient to his empathy. even after she attempts to kill him, he stops essek from crushing her while he’s still pulled back, steps forward, and only signals him to continue when his is the last face she sees and he’s made good of his promise to be there for his execution; when he’s made sure that the last eyes she sees before her death are those of a sibling who understands what she is and how she became that, and not those of a hateful, unforgiving enemy.

and then there’s essek. god, then there’s essek.

even long before the revelations of the fancy and the fooled, there’s palpable familiarity in essek; the progidy with high expectations, the drive to learn beyond what considered acceptable by the world around him, the position of a torturer and killer at a young age, the intelligence, the loneliness, the slow coming change once finally learn to accept people into his life. the parallels between the two kept stringing---some went unacknowledged, at least out loud, others did not: both of them had an understanding that their stories were woven with same patterns if not with the same thread until it reached a crescendo in finding out that not only essek have been working against his own country but with specifically the assembly, suddenly pulling not only a direct thread between them but one of bright fucking crimson...

and caleb drops down to his knees before essek. essek at this point has lowered himself to that level ( interestingly enough not reduced there, like the vollstrecker was, nor put on that level by outside forces, like nott, but in that position by his own action ), and caleb joins him there, verbally mapping out what they share between them, crossing the line of what he knows factually about essek and what is projecting his own arc and choices on to the other fast with just his insight on the drow and the hours and hours he spends in contemplating his own choices to guide him to being right about essek. the entire time he’s down there with him, he speaks offers himself as the same kind of mirror to essek as essek is to him.

the little boy from zemni fields was taught during his time in soltryce to elevate himself above the rest--the cattle, in ikithon’s mind---through the means of magic, class and statue and even in the form of ever-climbing towers of the assembly and its mages, to look down upon people in every sense of the word. when he cracked and came to realise the weight of what he’d done, he fell to the opposite end; to the side of the road and to the gutters, physically and verbally likening himself to garbage and completely unwilling to make eye contact with anyone in the first place, to someone seeing himself as less of a person and more of something undeserving with no right to do anything with his but move towards whatever the closest thing to undoing or paying back for the damage he’d done to the world would be, whether that meant putting his personal emotional and physical needs aside for the sake of reaching his goals or consistently telling the people around him to find use of him, this behaviour finding its peak on the floor of the bright queen’s throne room.

the man who closes the distance between him and veth, who sits down in front of the vollstrecker, who gives essek a second chance in a forehead kiss like it’s a material component of the spell he was taught by him, is not either of those ends. he can be on eye-level with people, allow others to grow close to him, is learning there to be some value in his life beyond just as the price he needs to pay one day in order to make things right. it’s still more natural for him to offer, stay just below the eye level, lower himself to accommodate the talking partner looking down... but it’s some motherfucking progress.

#personals don't interact.#u can 100% tell this was written in three completely different headspaces #❛ does it make you less of a victim than you are? ❪ analysis. ❫#artie don't look #cr spoilers #[says fuck in the tags so this doesn't go into the search]

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dokuhebi · 4 years

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Shattered-by-Sparks said ➳ // you know I was gonna

Send ➳ and I’ll generate a number between 1- 15 to see what kind of kiss my muse will give yours! 3. A kiss underwater // @shattered-by-sparks When they were young, they recall the contrasting words of their elders. They remember being eight years old, donned in one of Jiraiya’s hakama, since they could hardly afford their own during their days as an orphan. Intending to learn the art of stealth for the day, but being offered a different lesson by the stand-in teacher. They recall the womans disapproving voice when they, still plagued by innocence, squandered their teams success by veering off route. Because they had stumbled upon a small nest they dared not disrupt for the mere sake of training, where the residue of young students learning their abilities would render the small inhabitants homeless, mere collateral damage. A sharp bite of correction; ‘you will be the first to die out there, if you think with your heart not your head boy.’. And so they learnt, to listen to their head, and to never argue with logic. No matter how it conflicted with what little moral code their now deceased mother and father had tried to impart. They would be fourteen when donning one of Tsunade’s furisodes, finally doing well enough on missions to be better off financially, but hardly in the position for luxury items such as pretty clothing. They recall a mans disapproving eyes, when he sees a rag dressed boy had run over to the young serpent. Mistaking their Senju borrowed gown as a sign the raven haired teen was well off. Asking for any spare coin, but being promptly told to leave them alone. Because they had learnt their lesson, to use logic above all else. And there was no clear gain in helping someone, only clear loss of their own money. But from the man who had watched, and given the rag dressed boy something in the serpents stead, they had earned a displeased bite of criticism yet again; ‘I would hope a young lady such as yourself would have more heart than that.’ And so they learnt that they were expected to listen to the organ of confession in their chest as well. That while arguing with logic would end them up dead in this violent world, there was no point surviving if they lost their heart along the way. And it had been a strange balancing act, where they found the most rational middle ground. By the time they reach adulthood, they have obeyed the voice in their head that says caring for their team mates, or for anyone, would end in little but misery and loss. For humans were far too fragile to hold on to. So they let the bonds they had formed over countless years to crack and wither. But there would be no point to make a stone of themself, and so they had given their heart to their work, to their studies, their ambitions. And that had been the easiest way forward for the next sixty years - until they met her. The Sannin finds themself beside Rin at a quaint bar, no where near the stretches of Fire Countries influence, nestled in the borderlands of Sungakure and Kirigakure. A pleasant town, where nobody seemed to know anyone. The gathering of those who wanted nothing but drinks and accommodation. So in a town untouched by external politics, where the name Sannin and Jinchuriki earned little but a blank and ignorant stare, neither one of them has to wear the deceptive guise of henge. Rin had stirred awake a part of them that had been dormant for quite some time, although they have little concept of what that emotion may be. Fondness, was the closest term they held. They had been exchanging conversation in the furthest corner of the bar, neither one interested in mingling with strangers, at least this evening. However despite reputations holding no weight in this town, attention was still offered by those who had come here to seek conversation with unfamiliar faces. Orochimaru has long since mastered the art of a gaze that pierces the confidence of anyone, and a smile that seems to say ‘begone’. So any of those who had boldly stepped up had only made a swifter retreat. After a moment of distraction however, they return their attention to Rin to find a woman had swept up the opportunity of her temporary solitude. Perhaps the woman was being friendly, perhaps the woman was being coy, neither should matter. The thing that should earn the vipers immediate attention after all, is the reaction they feel rise inside of themself. Awfully indifferent by nature, often impossible to get a rise out of, certainly unfazed and disinterested in the antics of people as a whole... so why then, do they feel the ever growing distaste for the womans pushy conversation? A spike of, dare they say it, jealousy. They found they had no time for the womans lipgloss smile, and can only return the gesture she offers them with something ever so judgmentally false. Their smile shows nothing but the baring of fangs, and they resist the urge to say something nasty by taking a purposeful sip of their sake. A likely culprit for why they have decided composure can be thrown to the wind, and they can openly offer the woman who burdens their pleasant conversation with Rin a wry expression. They do not offer her any social graces, they do not laugh politely at her jokes, they do not respond immediately if she asks a question, they reject her every offer, be it a drink, an idea, or even a more comfortable seat when it opened up. Because while she keeps up conversation with Rin and Orochimaru, it had not escaped their attention that she had sighted the pretty brunette with her autumn coloured doe eyes, and made a straight line toward her. That had been the reason why they had prompted Rin to down the rest of her drink, as they did their own, before moving location. They would be lying if they said after all their drinks, that they remembered the small details of the evening. Like how they convinced her to leave the bar and promise of more alcohol, or who had the idea to visit the towns main attraction of naturally formed and well maintained hot springs. But they had found their way in to the warm wooden and stone floored room. Where the divided rock pool-like sections of the warm water offer multiple springs to choose from in both the male and female portion of the building. When asked where they would like to sit, they can only toss Rin a playfully confessional gaze, knowing that even drunk or tipsy, she of all people would have read their earlier displeasure like an open book. So they do not stoop so low as to deny what is obvious, instead sticking by their little display of jealousy and guiding her to one of the unoccupied springs. Keeping her quite far from the other woman enjoying the warm water a few meters away, and from the dividing wall where men can be heard not seen in their separate quarter. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I don’t want to share,” they say with a slightly coy tease to their voice, finding their way to rocks designed for sitting. They have their towel drawn around their body to hug their sylphlike figure, tucked neatly under slender arms just as pure white as the towel itself. While they had made quick work of twisting their long dark hair in to a bun, they had next sought to help her. Pale digits in contrast to the umber hair they now begin to lightly coil for her, ever the perfectionist in their antics, they allow some hair to frame her face as they had done for themself. To avoid the fault of gathering too much hair and putting needless strain on the locks. They gracefully move around her to inspect if the bun is centered and comfortable, lightly tipping her jaw up to examine it, before drawing slightly back has them realizing how close they had gotten with all their fussing and perfectionism. Gazes meeting a moment, and lips mere breaths away, they can not tell if they wish to blame alcohol or impulsiveness. For whichever it was, there is no taking back the gesture once they offer it. Logic would tell them that this is a dangerous game with no reward, that they have not acted after proper calculative thought. But they have survived three Great Wars, invented jutsu that could revive the dead, cures and technology that could prevent future deaths and revolutionize shinobi. They had achieved more in their life than nearly any shinobi to date - surely a moment of foolishness, a moment of thoughtless impulse, could be forgiven? They do not internally wrestle with the idea for long, they have allowed their hand to gently graze down from its placement in her hair to caress the side of her face instead. Where they can guide it to the side so they may catch her lips with their own. To earn a reaction they can not hope to try and guess. Would this be seen as overstepping? Would there be distrust when their venomous fangs were so very close to her flesh? Would she return it? They do not know their next step if she returns it. Why, they would perhaps know how to handle disdain at the gesture, more so than acceptance. Yet there is no deterrent strong enough to make them back out. They have shown that even feral and deadly jaws can be remarkably gentle, the kiss lingering like a ghosts might. A mixture of wanting to possess her, yet vanish all at the same time. When they draw away, chatoyant amber eyes seek out a response. But only for a moment, before a somewhat abashed, somewhat amused smile finds its way to their lips. Their hand drawn back to their person to correct the towel around their chest, a mere means to seek distraction, and a reason to pull away before she gives her response. Somehow still confident even in their bashfulness. “Well then,” they say with a soft exhale that could be mistaken for the slight trickle of nerves, only to be banished by the gesture of their self assured smile, even when they continue to subtly fidget by next running a hand through their long midnight fringe, “I do hope that was as well received as it was intended, but if it isn’t, you are more than welcome to offer me a polite lie, and pretend you are too drunk to remember this.”

#毒蛇 IMMORTAL; the curse is broken (post war)#/long post #okay sooo #Oro isn't the underwater kiss type #so I did /near/ water #(¬､¬) I confess to my own cheap sell out #shattered-by-sparks

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jae-canikeepyou · 5 years

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| marked | j.jh | ch. twelve

genre: superpower!au

a/n: idk if i’m satisfied with this final chapter and it seemed rushed for me. you guys judge. 🤧 it’s the series’ ending. italics in this chapter meant dialogues. an epilogue will be posted in a bit! or a few hours later. enjoy! 😊 ~j.

your legs wobbled at the endless running for escape. jaehyun, who was in front, pulled you to the location of original plan— the bridge connecting the two building sections. you had no idea where you’d go next. the continuous explosions and the weakening of your strength were getting the best of you. jaehyun thought the next and only escape would be in the next building. he knew that you both had to confront the supposed enemies; wonhee, boreum and whoever was to come your way, with whatever remaining strength you both had left.

the weather was colder than most days— comparatively to when you were alone, out in the snow. you took a glance at jaehyun, who was running out of breath and to the bridge in front of you. it wasn’t the time to stop. the explosions gone off as if they were chasing you. bricks and concrete blown up high in the air and came in crashing down to the ground. coincidentally though, missing both of your exhausted bodies. not later, the bridge you both ran on felt like it was about to collapse where the vibrations of every concrete developed cracks.

except it did.

you both screamed and closed your eyes to brace for the impact; the dark abyss of the new cliff seemingly created by the effect of the abundant detonation. the same cold wind felt like ice shards scratching through your sensitive flesh, exposed to the pain and vulnerable to the upcoming injuries. jaehyun unintentionally let of your grasp where you both appeared like sky divers who jumped off the plane for an experience of a lifetime. however this wasn’t that kind of experience.

“jaehyun!” you cried as loud as you could, forgetting the fact that he heard less now. he saw how your eyes welled in tears as they searched for that familiar comfort— him. as if swimming in the air as you both fell, he tried to reach for your hand. and he did however, a boulder out of nowhere came in between, breaking you apart from him.

“y/n!” jaehyun yelled in a prolonged tone.

quick bright flashes blinded jaehyun, and for a moment everything else felt like a dream. he saw figures ahead of him whilst he laid weakly on the ground. they appeared to be rescuers but the familiarity of those figures were the same ones that attacked at the mountain top. although his hands were tied behind, he searched for you. to his relief you were just beside him, like you did after eunwoo’s teleportation. but where were you both now?

the smoky figures came into a clearer view. people slowly arrived, a backwards self-disintegration, coming into form and into the flesh.

“the last absolutes..” a man’s deep baritone voice chilled you. it was then followed by laughs of the cursed and of evil doings.

“glad you got them out of harm’s way.”

“they’re quite a complicated duo but seriously? that’s how time-lock works, i get to move freely outside time. maybe admire their crying faces while i’m at it, awww.”

“let us mess with their memories, shall we? pilsuk, please do the honors.”

“well you do make a good choice, master.” she laughed.

if he was the master, then he was wonhee.

jaehyun saw how pilsuk curled her fingers, as if she was playing with poker chips. lights of electricity twirled around them, bringing them close to your forehead. you struggled with the zapping pain. jaehyun came in between, stopping the process of whatever her power was. “do you, perhaps want to join in as well? the more the merrier.” pilsuk’s screechy laugh annoyed your ears. she gestured another to accompany her.

jaehyun’s coat was then grabbed by another man, where he has the same power as pilsuk. he twirled his fingers to his forehead.

wonhee, boreum and the rest of them saw your past memories— the village they destroyed, the people they have murdered, the fire that scarred the victims, the aircrafts that dropped bombs. they smirked at the priceless memory of accomplishment. however they were very much disappointed at the fact two persons, were left alive.

“erase the memory of the battle. they won’t need it anyway. crappy absolutes.” wonhee ordered.

as they were being erased, a part of you felt weaker. you could sense jaehyun flinching at the pain. the weight of him beside you concluded that he felt weaker too.

“why are you doing this?” you asked as your head throbbed.

“a new world deserves better people. of course, you absolutes aren’t needed.” a lady spoke, later revealing to be boreum.

“there are more absolutes than you think!” you yelled. a stinging slap covered your cheek.

“ah~ you mean chanyeol, gongchan and wheein, yes?” she chuckled. “the offsprings of those core leaders. they too, survived the wipeout.. but it’s such a shame that they are not, like you two anymore. obviously they lost the power of absolute senses. oops?”

jaehyun could understand a little and got the gist of the converstation. “it’s your doing, isn’t it? you took their powers away!”

“well what a pleasant answer, boy! they should be at least thankful that i still left them with super strength, yes?” she clapped her hands. “and how lucky of you to hear most of what i said.”

you kicked a rock and aimed it to her. “you-!”

the rock stopped midway and fell to the ground. “time-control is such a convenient power, thanks hyunmin.” boreum said.

“boy and girl. we are the defects of the neighbouring country. we were neglected from our own, for not being able to possess any power.” wonhee walked up front.

“we didn’t ask for your history, bastard.” you spat.

“ooh, feisty. i kinda like you, girl.” he held your chin, bringing it up to a rise.

“don’t touch her.” jaehyun warned as he kicked the man.

“feisty as well.. but i don’t like you.” he punched jaehyun and the dimpled boy hissed at the force. “where was i? ah yes, boring history. then we came to your country, became regular, normal people who worked in the government. almost 85% of the workers were of us. and of course we planned to dominate your country after we learnt your country’s certain power categories..”

“..which are known for the ancient and the forbidden.” hyunmin said.

“yes we practiced the powers, book after book. and so we got the acceptance from our country. but people like you, the absolutes, saw through our plans and informed the president. a battle arose and a lot of people died. sad, isn’t it?”

you sighed at the story, who knew it would be true or not. you shrugged at the man with no interest. wonhee seemed to noticed but continued anyway. he hasn’t gone to the main and crucial part.

“the absolutes thought they defeated us and received victory. we waited years, here in the warehouse, for the right time to wipeout your people at the village where they were most concentrated at. so we did wipe them out! wow isn’t that great? it was..” wonhee trailed off. “not until we got a report that some survived. still, we waited, until the three young absolutes reached the age of 22; the strong age of power. so your leaders were, ended.”

“we could’ve waited for the time til the two of you reached 22 but, we got impatient, so here you both are.” hyunmin played with his fingers.

“y-you killed my family!” you scoffed as you tried to escape from the handcuffs.

“nuh-uh. correction, you did. what you get for being an absolute.” wonhee laughed.

that hit a nerve. memories of you taking people’s lives in the past years came in rushing like adrenaline. jaehyun saw how your eyes pricked with tears. you told yourself it wasn’t you who wanted them dead in the first place. but the universe seemed to want to let you know. after a long time, you felt alone again. even if jaehyun was there, the feeling outweighed your friendship.

“no!”

jaehyun sensed your power of death luring them in. he slid to be beside you as he held your shaken hand. “it’s not your fault y/n!”

“finish them.” he ordered.

you then felt palms onto your eyes and jaehyun onto his ears. two voices battling each other, one telling you that they were giving your sight and hearing back, while the other telling that it’ll be gone permanently. to your dismay, it was the latter.

“mission accomplished.” boreum nudged wonhee.

“not quite yet, i want them dead.” he exhaled, observing how you had little sobs. “press the trigger button for our country’s backup. i sense something strange from the girl.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

crew 097 were stationed back at the core. currently in a spacious room of twenty-one people. after an unfinished rescue mission of code green to retrieve you and jaehyun, they all sat in silence. not a single word uttered since the building bangchan and others were in held hostage collapsed.

mina held in tiny sobs. she still had hopes of you and jaehyun being safe. eunha had comforted the girl, but it did no effect on her.

“seriously stop crying mina!” yugyeom spat, giving her a towel. “they’re gonna be fine! we’ll get them out alive.”

“haha what happened to ‘they can protect themselves for all i care’?” mingyu high-fived bambam.

“shut up!”

the crowd laughed at the embarrassed yugyeom who ended up hiding himself under a blanket.

yuna felt the strength regaining into her. seokmin and the rest of the people in the core were glad that her team and herself were alive. “i feel a lot better.” she stretched her hands up high.

“did you forget that the core has a strengthening source?” seokmin teased her.

eunwoo came into the room, a worried look seen in his face. “dude you seem like you saw a ghost.” jungkook laughed but the boy did not move a face muscle. “what’s the problem?”

a loud gulp was heard from eunwoo, his eyes held in tears. he took a deep breath before speaking. “swarms of planes and people came from the warehouse and..” he trailed off.

“captain ordered for code black.”

“what?” eunha stood from her seat.

“oh gosh we’re all gonna die.” sujeong rubbed her temples.

“that’s a lot of enemies.” junhoe whistled as his palms rested onto the window sill.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the continuous punches and kicks from them had left you and jaehyun numb and seemingly close to being unconscious. “okay. enough with the torture. backup had just arrived and apparently they’re battling with boy and girl’s core companions out there.” pilsuk reported to her masters.

“they’ll be dead before the entire building collapses anyway. let’s go and-” boreum was cut off by a vigorous shake that had really imitated earthquake. the ceiling above dusted them with mixed snow and aged concrete.

“what the-”

jaehyun saw wonhee and the others falling down one by one, in which was a result of your own power. they became one of the lifeless bodies you unwillingly took.

he went under his arms, sliding himself through them where his wrists were in front of him. he managed to help you do the same. the only way to be able to communicate with you was through tactile signing. but he saw your crying and pained face. tears streaming like a fresh river from its main source.

his hands were brought up to wipe them away. his heart ached at the sight of you, also at the state of your cold hands that were now slowly turning to a darker shade. not because of the cold, but due to how powerful your powers as a marked had gotten. although he couldn’t be able to hear your voice once more, he understood your pain. demise of people laid into these innocent hands.

jaehyun’s eyes pricked with tears too. soon later his lips quivered in sadness, because of you.

you cried and wailed non-stop. but the warm hands that touched yours calmed you just a little bit. you knew jaehyun was there. “y/n..” you felt movements under your palms as he signed to converse with you.

“our friends are out there, jaehyun..” you signed by his palms. “it’s our fault that they had to fight them.. they shouldn’t risk their lives to save ours and.. i don’t want to kill anyone anymore..”

“it’s not your fault. none of this is our fault.. we didn’t choose to be marked. we didn’t choose to kill. but please do know that we’re marked for a reason. i’m very sure it’s not for a bad intention..”

“what’s the solution? we’re gonna die here in the warehouse and we’re vulnerable to death. the enemy already came..” your signed answer shocked him, but he remained unwavered, and strong for you.

a pause from his hands left you hanging.

and you waited for him despite hearing the crumbling walls, indicating there wasn’t any time left.

“there is one, but you have to trust me on this, y/n.” jaehyun’s large hands held yours before continuing. his chest hit hard, not knowing whether it was from fear or hope.

when your hands felt his, your heart sank at the plan he thought and proposed of. “jaehyun, i can’t- you’ll be caught into it too. i can’t do it.”

“i promise you. i won’t die.”

you touched his face and felt his dimples. he was smiling, but you read a lie through them.

jaehyun saw your hands, the shade of black already covering your forearms. it pained him to hurt you, but it was the only way to stop the war; to stop his and your friends from possibly dying.

the ground shook and you both felt another imitation of an earthquake around you.

to him, your eyes were still beautiful. they still brimmed with life. he wanted to think maybe it was him who caused them to have life at the very least. you felt his hands caressing yours.

“i want you to trust me. if you do that, i promise you i won’t die. please y/n-”

“I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE BECAUSE OF ME!” he saw you mouthed instead of signing, your eyes boring into his even though you couldn’t see him anymore.

what you had said, that was the final blow. jaehyun regretted making you cry. he didn’t want to be the reason for your tears. his lips dropped and he wailed like he did in his room when he was alone.

you asked him why was crying, but he didn’t respond verbally nor through signing. because of this, you as well, cried hard.

you heard his hiccups and low groans as he cleared his throat. jaehyun was someone you adored. despite knowing his developing feelings for you since you arrived to the core, it gave you an ongoing giddiness.

though he felt strangely tired, he looked at you again. your eyes still stared into him. he smiled painfully as he clearly remembered how you loved his dimples. tears rolled down more when he knew you loved him so much, even if you didn’t tell him. jaehyun signed to you this one last time under your palms, later pulling you to close the gap in between.

what he signed left you smiling and it appeared to jaehyun in a sign of relief. he saw a dark light emitting from you and he closed his eyes, where your face was the last thing he saw before darkness consumed him.

the signed touch from jaehyun warmed you when he delivered the words:

“i love you y/n, my first love.”

you then felt his weight on your chest, unmoved. your heart probably sank at its deepest. deeper than the cliff below. deeper than the divers ever swam. it broke you for good. in a shaken state, you touched his fluffed hair. he didn’t keep his promise and you regretted not signing back in time..

telling him that you love him too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

| marked — chapter twelve: the only shot |

#nct 127 #nct #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun marked series

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starryseo · 5 years

Note

After the young king your husband Woojin dies. The young Queen is left alone with her 5 children (00line and Jeongin pls oretend for the sake of the au). She has to rule a country, fight the courts intrigues and take care of her children. Can she manage w the help of her royal advisors Chan Changbin and Minhonor will she fail?

dear lord this got so much longer than i thought it would but it was such an interesting idea!!! tysm for sending it in!! im on mobile so can't add a read more cut, sorry! :(

oh god okay this is such a Wild idea, i love it! first of all, why'd you have to kill woojin :((( i can imagine him to be such a great father and king!! in public, he keeps them in check so they're never too rowdy, but he never restricts their freedom or fun bc they're kids yk, he's not gonna shove all the royal teaching stuff on them at such a young age, he wants them to enjoy their lives. if they do get out of hand -- which is only ever occasionally bc they have great parents! -- he just tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at them and they know they've gone too far. he won't do anything in public except keep them closer, but he doesn't need to do much bc the kids are all pouting that they've upset their dad so they're all rushing to hold onto his hand anyway. he'll speak to them in private afterwards - he never raises his voice at them, he'll have a good conversation. but he's always grinning by the end of it bc the boys are all frowning and pouting, jeongin's in tears and jisung's not far off, and he can't help but just give them all a massive best hugs bc those are his boys and he just loves them so much. he loves spending time with his boys, always trying to hurry up meetings so that he can play with them. he especially enjoys when they all gang up on him for sword fighting training and when he goes down bc obviously he's gonna let them win, he's dragging them all on the ground with him too, and you always come in to see them just laying down on top of woojin like a dog pile (jisung grabs your hand and before you know it, theyre using you as a cushion too!)

when he passes away, they're heartbroken. they never want to go sword fighting or horse riding, they can't even bear walking past the throne room. they have a vague understanding of what's happened - dad's not around anymore, mum's crying to sleep every night, everyone in the kingdom is quiet and sad and weeping. they never leave each other alone. all five of them stick together, and whenever possible, they stay by your side because despite the strong front you put up for them, they can see the red in your eyes and the bags beneath them. you have trouble sleeping in your bedroom - the room you shared with woojin - so they're always trying to make you stay with them when you tuck them into bed. despite having separate rooms, they're all bunking in hyunjin, jisung and felix's shared room bc it's the biggest. they sleep 2 to a bed and on your better days you join with the single boy on the last bed. other days, you know you'll break down when you see them bc they all embody little parts of woojin and it's all too fresh and it breaks your heart bc you love your sons but some days it just hurts too much to see them. on those days you stay in a guest room, getting little sleep -- if any at all -- and you reminisce all the good days, letting your tears soak your pillow.

the royal advisors do everything they can to help you. you take over woojin's role in meetings and making decisions over your country. usually you and woojin would have discussions, but now you're sitting in conversation with chan and minho and changbin. they're great help, each one amazing at their specific job. you bury yourself in work, even if you're falling apart inside, you can't and won't let this kingdom suffer - you're not just doing this for woojin, you're doing this for yourself, your family, your people. days go past quicker when you're surrounded by financial records and daily reports. but this all comes with a cost.

you spend nearly all of your days in the royal office. mostly alone. sometimes chan, minho or changbin will keep you company, going over files over work, but they're mostly keeping an eye on you, bringing in food and drinks because you focus too much on work at times. you eat because you know what theyre doing. your behaviour isn't just affecting you.

the boys are more rowdy now. they barely see you because you're always writing away in your office. they ask you to play and all they get is a "sweetheart, i can't right now, maybe your brothers are free, go find them" or "in a bit honey, come back in an hour, okay?" and when they come back you're going through a new pile, too busy to spend time with them. they get moodier. they love each other, but they're constantly fighting bc that should get your attention right? you always hated when they fought. the maids and servants keep it from you. they dont tell you about your boys' tantrums, they quickly replace whatever's broken, and make sure nothing leaves the castle. it's not fair to you bc you have the weight of the world on your shoulders and it's dragging you down.

it takes seungmin falling from a tree in the garden for the secrecy to break. he's always been the most cool-headed of the boys, mostly bickering to annoy the others, always joining in the fights last - if and when he did join. the others were fighting. again. god knows who started it but soon enough, jisung and hyunjin were wrestling, felix tried pulling jisung back and was elbowed in the nose, someone's legs stuck out and kicked jeongin, and seungmin just couldn't take it. he ran outside, far away and then up the closest tree. he didn't want to be seen or heard and only the nesting birds were witness to the anguish he let out up there. when a servant was calling out for him at dinner time, he was still teary-eyed, his hands weak from all the thrashing and punching and he lost his footing on the way down.

no one could hide that from you. you begged chan to finish off whatever papers you had left, although he was already on it. minho had also taken the liberty to lock your office door and changbin asked your maid to hide your keys bc now more than ever your family, your boys, needed you.

you stayed up with your boys that night. you had dinner in the bedroom since seungmin was bedridden, you fed him food, and snuck in sweet desserts as the others surrounded the bed too. you held each of them close to you, unwilling to not have at least two of them in your arms at any moment. you promised to do better, be better. and you wouldn't -- couldn't -- break that.

hyunjin was a surprisingly great babysitter. the other boys listened to him well, except when he occasionally bossed them around to sneak in sweets or do his chores, but he lead them well at all other occasions. jisung was a natural at horse riding. he kept in close contact with all the workers and the stables became his second home. he taught the other boys as well, and even tended to the animals when he could. he often ventured out of the castle with minho in tow, and he learnt more about his people and the workings of society from minho than anyone could ever think to know. felix was a whiz in the kitchen and, societal norms be damned, he had a great palate and was a huge help in the kitchens. changbin taught him how to take inventory and manage the stock, familiarising himself with the vast food places in the kingdom. they both journeyed out to other kingdoms to introduce new foods to your lands. seungmin was amazing at all things money. numbers came easy to him and he put himself in charge of all financial happenings and no one batted an eyelash. jeongin was still learning, but only from the best advisor in the castle -- chan, of course. he was their little apprentice and was quick to learn anything and everything he could to help out as well.

it wasn't a perfect system, you all had off days and bad moods, but you worked together, as a family, and it was beautiful.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #i.n #asks #no face #askideas

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bnha-hq · 5 years

Note

*gasps* Ask box is open! Uh, hi! For a Haikyuu drabble, can you do 27 for KuroYachi and 44 for KageHina? Thankyouuuuu

I am so sorry this is so late, I hope you enjoy

“I’m pregnant”

Kuroo would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about Yachi, she seemed more worried than usual, more jumpy and prone to panic attacks. He hadn’t seen her this riled up since her university finals and he couldn’t for the life of him pinpoint what it was.

She’d been so stressed recently she was having seemingly random bouts of nausea and had started jumping more when he arrived or suddenly called for her and when he asked her he got nothing out of her, if she even knew what was causing her anxiety she wasn’t telling him.

She wasn’t telling him anything which usually meant she was worried about his reaction or she was still sorting it out in her own mind to be able to word it in a way that wasn’t more a mashup of concepts so he could understand and hopefully help.

Today had been particularly bad, she’d been sick for the third time today and it had just passed lunch time, not knowing what was wrong worried him so much, he felt like all he could do was sit there and watch with no way to help, just hoping that whatever was wrong would soon pass or ease.

Yachi was currently doing what she had been doing for weeks, fighting an oncoming panic attack. She looked at the four positive pregnancy tests on the bathroom counter, fighting another wave of nausea as she tried her best to sift through the ridiculous amount of emotions that were stewing inside her. She was excited and ecstatic at the news but at the same time it was the most terrifying thing she’d learnt in who knows how long. She didn’t know when to tell Kuroo, she knew she had to but coming to grips with it herself was so hard, she wasn’t sure if she could handle his reaction were it bad and no matter how many times she replayed the scenario in her mind it always ended badly. Logically she knew he wouldn’t hate her or want nothing to do with their baby but her anxious thoughts very rarely planted themselves in logic, watered by the haunting thoughts of the unknown and the ‘what ifs’.

She’d been sitting on this for way too long now, she’d known for a week without telling him and she felt so guilty for not, she had come to the conclusion that she had to tell him, and she would tell him. Today. She knew the logical reactions, she knew Kuroo loved kids and she knew he wanted them in their future. She knew all of this, she just had to cling onto the logic, however fleeting, and not let go no matter what the anxious thoughts screamed at her. She’d tell him today and deal with the consequences as they came, that was all she could do.

Kuroo had started dinner, he hoped Yachi would be able to keep it down tonight. If it didn’t get better he would probably take her to the doctors, throwing up this often isn’t normal right? He didn’t think anxiety alone would cause her to be so sick so often, it hadn’t in the past. Sure, she felt nauseous and like she was going to throw up but she very rarely did so he had to wonder, was her anxiety just getting worse or was she actually sick with some stomach bug? She hadn’t mentioned anything or avoided anything so it didn’t seem like an anxiety thing.

He sighed and finished chopping the vegetables, putting them in the pan to stew with the rest.

Tetsu?” Yachi’s quiet voice cut through the kitchen, she fiddled with her sleeves and avoided eye contact. Maybe it was anxiety related.

“Yes kitten~” he smiled at her, stopping everything to give her his full attention.

She pulled out four little white sticks, at first he didn’t know what they were. They looked like thermometers that you stick under your tongue, so maybe she actually was sick?

“Hm?” He walked over to get a closer look, taking one from her hands and looking it. He saw two clear blue lines and he knew.

His eyes widened as her looked at the test, to her then to the ones in her hands, his mouth open and closing like a fish out of water as he thought of what to say.

“I’m pregnant” she clarified, with more confidence than he expected considering how timid she was only seconds before.

So many feelings flooded through Kuroo that he thought he was going to be sick for a moment, he was so excited and overjoyed, he was going to be a dad! But at the same time he was terrified, he was going to be a dad!

He decided to push away the fear, his excitement easily overpowering it as he picked her up in a tight hug.

“We’re going to be parents!!” He laughed and spun her around, earning a laugh from her as well which was like music to his ears.

“Is this what’s had you so worried?” He finally set her down, seeing her nod weakly and look away. He could tell she was embarrassed, she often said she felt silly after an anxiety attack. He smiled softly and kissed her face, the relief he felt was so intense he just wanted to laugh.

“I’m so glad it wasn’t something bad, I was worried you had the flu or something” he chuckled and gave her lips a quick peck. She giggled.

“Sorry for worrying you” she smiled at him, kissing back gently.

“I wish all my worries ended with news as good as this, we’re going to be parents Kitten!” She smiled at him brightly as he said that, he could just about physically see the stress and anxiety leave her body and he was so glad.

“Yes we are” they could both relax and rejoice in the news, neither weighed down by anxiety and neither could be happier.

“If you die, I’ll kill you”

tw: war and death

It wasn’tsupposed to be like this, it was never supposed to be like this.

They were supposed to finish high schooland go straight into university, hoping to play for the national team one day.

They were meant to find a house together,adopt a pet or two and live out their dreams, happy and content.

It was never supposed to be like this.

They had known the war had started, theycouldn’t not know about it, it had been plastered on every paper, TV channeland radio station.

Japan had gone to war.

The country was thrown into chaos, Kageyamaand Hinata had been drafted and now found them away from home, away from whatthey knew and away from routine and normalcy.

They’d been lucky in the fact that theyhadn’t been separated but Kageyama was terrified, this whole thing scared thelife out of him.

Whenever they were separated for too longhe worried so much he often made himself sick, he worried Hinata had beenkilled, or taken and exposed to much, much worse and by the way Hinata huggedhim, with all the strength he could muster, he figured he had the samenauseating fears as well.

It was never supposed to be like this.

He was meant to come home, maybe a roughday at class or work perhaps, met with that tight hug to squeeze away problemsof the day, not to remind themselves that they were both alive and alright.

It was never supposed to be like this andit made him so angry, angry at the war, at his government, at the opposingarmy, at everything. They should be living their life, just the two of themwith whatever they felt like doing as stupid young adults, not wondering ifthey were going to live to see the next day.

As the war dragged on it took a heaviertoll on them both, Hinata especially. Kageyama had lost count of the amount ofnights he held Hinata as he cried, loud sobs, heavy under the weight of hisfear and guilt.

The weight of the world was on hisshoulders, the uncertainty of tomorrow clouding his vision and the panicgripped his throat in an icy grip, his cries for help barely audible to his ownears and Kageyama couldn’t help him.

Not completely anyway.

He could lie there with him, holding him ina tight grip and doing whatever he could to take a little bit of that weightoff him. To clear his vision just that little bit or loosen the grip on histhroat, but he couldn’t. There was just too much, too much pain, fear,uncertainty, and so much guilt he felt like he would suffocate before theyreached the light at the end of the tunnel. If they did suffocate, if it didprove all too much, the one thing he was certain of though was that he wouldn’thesitate to give his last breath so Hinata could have one more, even if hecouldn’t make it he’d do everything within his power to make sure Hinata did.

He squeezed the boy in his arms a littletighter, savouring the feeling of him being there, dedicating it to memory,dedicating Hinata to memory, even though he already had.

The sound of his voice, his laugh, his cryand the feeling of his skin and the softness of his hair and his smile. Thesmile he has when he’s done something cool, when he sees Kageyama after a longday or when he’s just woken up. All these little details have etched themselvesso deeply into Kageyamas memory they were just another part of him, heremembered these things like he remembered his own name, he firmly believedhe’d forget his own name sooner that those little things about Hinata, he wouldif he had a say in it.

Hinata’s sobs slowly settled down untilthey were more whimpers and hiccups than actual sobs, though his body stillshook violently, his fingers still digging into the fabric of his shirt so hardKageyama briefly wondered if it had been torn, not that he’d care if it had.

He knew he wasn’tthe only one though, he wasn’t the only one who’d held the one he loves as theycried, who lived in fear and everyday had to push it aside and do what neededto be done. He’d seen his team mates here, from middle school and high school,people he didn’t get along with now trusting him with his life and vice versa.

He remainedawake for what felt like hours after Hinata fell asleep, but realistically itwould have only been a few minutes before he too drifted off into a mercifullydreamless sleep.

Kageyama couldhardly keep up with what was happening, bullets were whizzing past his head,his ears ringing as something exploded somewhere he couldn’t quite make out,voices screaming out commands he that couldn’t quite hear but none of itmattered, absolutely none of it, it may as well be white noise in this exactmoment.

“K-Kageyama…I’msorry” his voice was weak, his hands shaking badly as they covered the redpatch on his stomach that only grew, taking Hinata’s colour with it and leavinghim pale.

“S-Shut up, you’regoing to be alright” Kageyama’s hands also shook as he did his best to stop thebleeding, blinking away the tears furiously in attempt to clear his visionthough whatever tears he shed were quickly replaced.

“I’m sorryTobio, I-I’m so sorry” he sobbed weakly himself, Kageyama growled and screamedfor a medic again.

He was vaguelyaware of Iwaizumi running over to help, vaguely aware of an explosiondangerously close to them, vaguely aware of everything that wasn’t Hinata inhis arms.

“If you die,I’m gonna kill you.” He sobbed weakly, holding his face in his hand and pressinghis forehead to his.

Hinata manageda weak laugh, one that shook Kageyama to his core, before leaning up to leave agentle kiss to his lips.

“I’m sorryTobio” he managed before he shut his eyes.

All Kageyamacould do was scream, a pain unlike any other took hold of his being andsqueezed him agonisingly tight.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

#kuroyachi #kuroyachi fic #kuroyachi fluff #pregancy fic #kagehina #kagehina fic #kagehina angst #tw: character death #tw: war #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #hq fic

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

I guess writing a Tachimukai-centric fic is an annual tendency of mine since 2014 and this is this year's edition of "how bad can I get on this cinnamon roll".

Not going to lie, I may have gone hardcore with the angst content on this one, especially considering the character I'm writing about. Despite the appearances, Tachimukai was one of my comfort characters in high school and early college years, when I felt isolated and unwanted, when my self-esteem was low and I didn't know where I was going. I should write actual fluff where he gets the attention he deserves, because Orion won't provide it. (but instead I got attached to Ichihoshi and Nishikage so I suppose I'm no better than I was in 10th grade). I know these headcanons are freakin' wild and edgy as heck, but that's how I've rolled for the past 3 years, so I suppose it's to be expected. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you this actually *isn't* the edgiest I've written about Tachimukai, because that is a thing you most likely will only be posted in years, if ever. This is the cringy part of me I suppose, that part that never let go of his middle school years; but I also suppose I grew up with these characters and they grew up with me in my mind

It's weird for me to take the prompt "Definitely Just a Cold", a personal favorite of mine, and write about this loosely about it, as the focus is somewhere else. It's also weird to write for this character as "Yuuki", but it makes more sense storytelling-wise: you don't tend to call yourself by your surname when you talk to yourself, right? I'm sorry if the actual sickfic part of the fic is underwhelming, my inspiration suddenly left me and I switched to an Ensemble Stars mood?? That was the oddest thing I swear

Also this is a slight AU where Raimon had time between the matches against Chaos and Genesis, aka "man this is purely for my convenience's sake"

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Burden with a Frostbitten Self-Consciousness

Summary: There is no way his aching chest is a good excuse to bother his upperclassmen. Better keep everything to himself so he doesn't become a burden to anyone but him again. (This doesn't feel right, though).

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (original continuity)

Wordcount: 2.2K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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“Don’t make your senpais worry, Yuuki” is one of the first things he’s been told by his parents when he first started middle school. It was on a lukewarm spring day, wind blowing right into his face with hair pushed way backward on his scalp, slipping through his clothes and brushing against his skin. “They’ll have other things to do and think about, so don’t bother them unless it’s necessary, okay? You’re a good boy, I trust you not to concern them with you.” It’s the last thing his mother has told him, so he clutches her words against his chest to feel their warmth over and over again until the hot-water bottle goes cold.

It’s icy and it hurts, yet he feels the need to keep it against his skin, even if it gives him frostbite.

After all, as far as he knows, Yuuki’s always been a bother to everyone around him. He’s an unwanted child: his parents are always busy being somewhere better than their hometown (it’s only his, he knows that too), he’s just a weight they need to take care of. The concept of home feels foreign to him, the kind of things his classmates and teammates talk about but that he’s never been able to truly understand. They live with their parents, their siblings, their pet; but he has no parent to take care of him, no sibling to talk to and no pet to walk and clean after.

It’s normal, after all: he’s a burden for the people around him. It’s only fair that he bothers them as little as possible.

He actually likes talking to other persons and kids around him. He’s too talkative: no matter what he starts speaking about, he tends to ramble, to get lost in thoughts and only he can make out what he’s just said. He wants to have friends and spend time with them, discuss things and high-five them when they succeed at something, game or homework well done; but he doesn’t dare coming up to people and asking them for it. After all, he could be bothering them if he did that.

As such, he tries to stay silent most of the time. He does have comrades, though, now, and it’s a breath of fresh air. The one time he had the guts to talk to someone first, it was to join the soccer club of the school to make some friends: he’s a rookie at the sport. He’s watched it before that, grew an admiration for team captains, wants to be a leader with charisma and this capacity to motivate everyone around him. He shook the hand of the third-year captain and wondered how and why they had accepted him, yet didn’t question it: he was just happy to feel included, wanted.

It’s a rare feeling unlike anything else, after all.

Turns out he sucks at being a midfielder. He has low stamina, doesn’t have the best accuracy, can’t shoot strongly like the teammates he shares a part of the field with; but it’s fine. It’s fine because they talk to him, ask him how his day has been, if he needs help with anything at school (on that, he does just right: he’s a good student, he studies every evening when going back to the dorm, makes sure to learn his lessons and do his drills for the next class, because he can’t bother the teachers too). They’re all nice with him, even if he’s younger, and he’s afraid he’s bothering them because he’s all new to this and doesn’t know how to play as well as they do; but when he asks, they all say it’s fine, that they’re happy he’s there.

When he asks to become a reserve goalkeeper, inspired by Raimon’s Endou, his charisma, his capacity to motivate his teammates no matter the situation, they all strangely accept immediately. They tell him it’s fine, that he seems more of a keeper to them anyway, that they were worried about the way he breathes after he’s run on the field for practice matches. He apologies for worrying them over and over again, hoping the stain of his fault will eventually disappear from how much he’s scrubbing it. In the end, he became their main goalkeeper, even if he’s the only first-year on the team.

When he joins Raimon, it’s because he admires the rookie team who’s won in the Football Frontier and fights aliens trying to destroy their country’s schools one after the other. By the time they reach Fukuoka to retrieve a secret copybook, they won against Gemini Storm and are on their way to defeat Epsilon, pumping his club’s veins with adrenaline and hope in the future. He gets to show Endou his God Hand, feels awkward about it, enjoys playing against the people he admires so much, discovers how his idol is the real deal. “Never met your idols” doesn’t make sense in his mind, even as Raimon traverses the desert with their captain stuck on the roof.

By a miracle, he manages to ask Endou if he can join Raimon. It’s the team who has insisted: to them, he’s too talented for them, the country needs them and, as such, so does Raimon, the best team in Japan. He’s surprised everyone at Raimon accepts him, that even their coach doesn’t reject his request. He leaves his team with a part of his heart breaking, even if they’re smiling and waving at him when he leaves Yokato in the Inazuma Caravan; even though the pretty landscapes he’s never seen and the light-hearted banter of the caravan make him quickly forget about his guilt.

And it’s because they’ve all been so nice to him, welcoming, accepting, warm, arms wide open; that Yuuki can’t make anyone at Raimon concern for him. It’s just not right. It’s his business to take care of, on his own, he’s the only one who should be bothered about this in the first place.

That’s how it works for him, even if his lungs are starting to burn.

It starts with a stuffed nose and an itching throat. It’s a familiar feeling, very much so: it happens to him every winter, when the immune system is tired and the temperatures keep dropping until March comes around. Usually, his teammates would have told him to stay put and just watch practice so it doesn’t get worse; but this is no usual time. They’re trying to win against The Genesis and Aliea as a whole, they don’t have the time to do rest.

He doesn’t like outright lying, because he’s learnt that lying is bad and the best way to get people away from you, so when Tsunami asks him if he’s fine after a light coughing fit, he just says what’s on his mind: it’s a little summer cold, nothing wrong with that, he feels good otherwise. He wants to learn the technique from the secret notebook more than anything, after all, so he takes care not to worry everyone, take breaks when he can and puts on a mask hoping nobody ever asks him about it.

People do, unfortunately, but he always responds to them the same way he’s responded to his friend.

Yuuki is bad at lying to himself too, so when his itching throat starts making him cough and when his vision swims if he gets up too quickly, when the air starts becoming too hot around him and when his skin can’t decide if it’s feeling too cold or too warm, when he sweats without doing any effort, he knows he’s getting worse, but his response doesn’t change by much. It’s just a bad cold, now. It’s starting to learn more towards the fabricated side of half-truths, and he can hear his father scold him before leaving for three months, yet the context can’t help it and he needs to be there for the team.

Is he a part of them, on second thought? He was appointed titular goalkeeper because the team needed to become an offensive powerhouse and Endou became a libero as a result. He saw Aphrodi destroy himself against Chaos when he had himself been too busy being unable to stop at least eleven shoots. He’s the weakest link, this much he knows, and he can’t help but wonder if they don’t resent him for this. It’s fine if they do: if they don’t, then what prevents them from realizing he’s only dragging them down?

The black thoughts clog his mind’s drain, but he doesn’t say anything. Everyone here is his senpai: they’ve all been there for longer than he has, the sole exception being Tsunami, who even then is two or three years older than he is. If he even makes it obvious that he has doubts and his body starting to fail on him at the worst moments, he’ll start worrying his upperclassmen. That’s wrong, he’s aware of that, he’s learnt his lesson; as such, he stays quiet about it, half-lies to everyone asking him and hopes his coughing fits stop being so painful. It’s easier for everyone if that’s how he rolls.

Even with his resolutions taken, Tsunami’s worried stares make him weaver in his decisions. It seems like his plan hasn’t worked properly, because he’s asked more and more often if he really is fine. The only thing stopping them from removing him from the goalpost is the coach insisting everything is also fine, despite her frowned eyebrows and betraying glances at him. He’s the weakest link, so Endou can replace him anytime, but they need him there so they can win against The Genesis. That has to be the reason why everyone is getting worried around him.

They’re worried for the team’s future, the country’s, and their goals, it’s normal. The stakes are just way above his head for him to fully understand.

His chest is aching as soon as he wakes up and his breathing is shallow, it’s like he has a constant asthma attack. His nerves are exhausted of supporting the charade that it’s all just a very, very bad cold; yet he can’t help but outright lie to his teammates because he can’t break his principle never to worry someone older or more experienced than him. The worse he gets, the more distant he feels from everyone and everything else because of his senses downgraded constantly, inexorably. His eyes are filled with tears, his ears with cotton, his limbs are stiff and he’s having the hardest time even getting air in.

When Tsunami asks him if what’s wrong, he doesn’t have the energy left to pretend like he’s fine, so he turns away and says he doesn’t feel right, but that it’s not important. They’re a team, he’s just a part of it, and he needs to move along with everyone else in unison if he doesn’t want everything they’ve built up until now to fall apart in a violent fashion. He expects a burning stare, or something of the kind, but instead all he gets is the sympathizing gazes of everyone and he feels stupid because that’s when he realizes he has worried them all along.

Everyone stares at him, mostly in disbelief, but he’s too occupied by everything failing on him that he doesn’t know what to make of it, or react to it in fact, so he just coughs half a lung out and awkwardy smiles under his mask. He’s never been good with people’s attention, he doesn’t know what to make out of it any time this kind of situation happens. Instead, he fumbles with his hands as everyone, to his surprise, tells him it’s fine.

That they’re not this desperate for time, that he matters too and so does his health, that it’s fine if he doesn’t play immediately and if they have to postpone the assault against Aliea for a couple of days. He doesn’t reply, but they guess and cancel his questions before they can pop up to his mind in the shapes of actual words, and their words continue to deafen him from their kindness.

His vision swims too badly for him to see anything when Tsunami suddenly pulls him against his chest, but the coldness of anybody else’s skin is the most welcome feeling he could be requesting for right now. The voices swirl around him too, yet he knows they’re the right kind of warm as they embrace him, concern finally feeling good. It stills stings like a bandage getting ripped suddenly from a healing wound, but it’s a sting he’s accepting to feel if it’s to finally be a part of the team. Hearing it from others is a whole other deal to him than lying to himself about it.

But he finally gives into the exhaustion and sickness, whose nature he has no idea of anymore, letting himself fall into other arms as he can finally smile honestly under his mask, without feeling like a bother anymore. He’ll learn his lesson about worrying people or not later, when he’ll feel like he’s fine enough to do it. For now, he’s going to profit off of everyone telling him he’s needed, wanted and welcome. It gives meaning to his efforts, after all.

It’s nice to feel loved.

#bad things happen bingo #inazuma eleven #tachimukai yuuki #tsunami jousuke #raimon eleven #inazuma eleven og #angst #hurt comfort #emotional hurt comfort #character study #sickfic #fever #self-esteem issues #bthb 2

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