#and that they’re tasked with leading the souls of the rest of the islanders back here

[soars22]

Jumping was easy, in the end.

Pac was used to being alone, to losing everyone he loved. Standing on his own was difficult, but he had managed it. He can’t regret the hours he spent searching for his chaos bow, not when holding it serves as a necessary reminder that he can do things on his own. He’s his own person.

Just him; just Pac. He’s strong enough to stand on his own.

But losing Richas feels like a bridge too far for him to cross after everything. He’s already lost Fit and Ramón. He’ll always have Mike, but his best friend is moving on, growing up. It’s a loss of a different kind and hurts all the more for having no definitive end. He only just got Richas back and now-

And now.

His Richas-his nene-is leaving again. It’s on his own terms, but it’s still leaving, and Pac-

He’s so tired of people leaving him.

So he jumps. He’s not proud of it, exactly, but he does it anyway. And it’s not like it’s his decision alone, which almost makes it easier. Pac may be on his own, but he won’t die that way. He’s never wanted to be the last man standing.

Jumping is easy, in the end. So is falling, as long as Pac doesn’t think too hard about what comes after. It’s over quickly, at least; there’s a short, blinding streak of pain as his body hits the ground and then there’s nothing at all. He floats in a dark nothingness that’s more reminiscent of the space between dreaming and being awake than death. It turns out there’s not so much difference between the two of them.

“You dumbass.”

The voice is deep, rough, familiar. Pac turns-and that movement is dreamlike too, soft and static at the edges-and sees a face he never thought to meet again.

“Fitch,” he breathes, and the other man smiles. There’s a sadness that lingers in the corners of his eyes. “Hey, Pac. Fancy meeting you here.”

There’s no judgement in his voice, but Pac finds it anyway. “I don’t regret it,” he says, drawing himself up to meet Fit’s gaze. “I don’t, not when you’re here too.” “I know,” Fit says softly. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Sim… but I’m here now.” Fit nods. “You’re here now,” he echoes. “So let’s go meet the other dumbasses, yeah?” Pac nods jerkily. “Ok.” Fit reaches out to take Pac’s hand and leads them to their family.

They’re all there:

Jaiden sits in a field of flowers, making a crown for Bobby’s hair; Trumpet, Dan, and Max are chasing each other, throwing bombs that never hit; Juanaflippa is curled up next to Tilín, soft smiles on their faces.

Dapper and Pomme are playing a game of keep-away with Chayanne as Baghera laughs from the sidelines; beside her, Lullah comforts an unfamiliar girl with flowers in her hair.

And there, finally, is-

“RICHINHAS-“ Pac cries, throwing himself at his son. The boy looks up, startled, from where he’s painting next to Ramón. When he sees Pac his eyes go wide and he flings his paintbrush to the side with a wild cry. “PAI!!” The two collide in a crushing hug; for a moment, nothing else matters in the world.

“It took you long enough,” Mike’s teasing voice cuts through Pac’s whirling thoughts. “Did you get lost?” Pac glares up at his friend who only grins in return. “Shut up. I got here in the end, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” grumbles a small voice. “But more importantly-I’m going to kill Richas.” Pac looks over to see Ramón glaring at Richas. There’s a bright streak of orange paint across his face. Richas sticks his tongue out. “You can’t kill me-I’m already dead!” “I’ll figure something out,” Ramón threatens. “Dapper will help me!” His eyes slide over to Pac’s and he smiles. “Hi, pai. It’s good to see you again.” Pac’s smile wobbles a bit and he opens his arms. “It’s good to see you too, filho.”

Ramón grins and jumps into Pac’s arms. He laughs, a bright, joyful sound. His family is here again, with all the time in the world.

Finally-finally-Pac doesn’t have to be alone.

[kechiwrites]

katsuki, izuku, and shouto as types of doting dads

🌿 gender neutral!reader

🌿 sfw drabbles, lots of domestic fluff under the cut, 

🌿  warning: bakugo swearing, of course

🌿 w.c: 1.2k (approx. 400 each) 

🌿 a/n: thank u to my angel @mindninjax​ for naming katsu’s tiktok. sorry about the formatting, tumblr hates me.

katsuki

Bakugo’s kids are not spoiled, fuck you for even insinuating it.

Bakugo’s kids get what they need.

And what they need is a four tier bento box, every school day.

Insulated, of course, because “they aren’t fucking animals.”

And what starts as Bakugo just being a very attentive father, grows into you recording him coming home from his early morning run and grumbling while he puts on the frilly, lemon yellow apron your kids got him for Christmas two years ago, which grows into him carefully arranging a camera setup over your kitchen countertops, “because you’re the shittiest director alive, dumbass.” Which leads to the tiktok account dine-amight, where Bakugo uploads his intermediate-level character bentos, full to bursting with perfectly seasoned rice balls shaped like All Might and Hello Kitty, star and moon shaped fruits and veggies and occasionally, when your kids beg for them, Bakugo’s famous rainbow mini pancakes.

And of course a pro-hero with a reputation like Bakugo doing anything domestic is worth coverage and acclaim, blowing the account’s followers into the hundreds of thousands in a week.

In fact, people are shocked that Bakugo can even find the time. But he’d do anything for your kids, do anything to see them bring home empty bentos, bragging about all the kids drooling over their lunches that day. Anything to watch their missing tooth smiles when he asks how they were.

And if that means a couple of extra grocery trips at the end of the week and really early morning runs and gentle kisses on your forehead while you mutter and shift in your sleep before he starts the rice cooker, then so be it.

“Katsuki, they are not going to eat caviar. They do not need caviar.” Honestly, you were less surprised he was dropping it in the cart and more surprised your local supermarket even carried it in the first place. 

“They’ll eat whatever the fuck I give them.” He bites, pushing the cart just shy of too fast through the aisle, head swivelling back and forth for god knows what else. An elderly woman casts your husband a dirty look as he just barely swings the metal buggy to avoid her, to which Katsuki helpfully spits “Keep it movin’, hag!” 

“They’re 10!” 

“Doesn’t mean they need to choke down dry ass chicken nuggets and grape juice all day.”

izuku

Birthday party dad, the absolute worst party dad. Thousands of dollars on his kids’ birthday parties. Princess parties, pirate parties, any theme your kids can gurgle about liking and Deku has pulled out his tablet and is putting a pinterest board together before you can remind him that the twins’ birthday was two months ago. 

“We can get an early start on next year. What’ll you think it’ll cost to turn the pool into an ice rink?”

          “My sanity.”

        “Don’t be dramatic.”

Gets almost ridiculously bitter when the family across the street throws an All Might themed party when he knows, he fucking knows, they overheard him talking about throwing one for the boys months ago, But he is not changing his plan. Naw naw naw, your kids are gonna get their All Might party, they’re getting the All Might Party. Every single attendee is getting a vintage, tin All Might lunchbox stuffed to bursting with All Might merch; toys, branded candy only released in Sweden, keychains, those little retro bubble charms, anything he can cram in there. The yellow, red and blue bouncy castle he rented rivals the size of your house. And then, because there is not a soul on the planet pettier than your husband, he forces every pro hero he’s ever known to get in costume and take photos with the kids. He makes the one with the twins your yearly christmas card, then hand delivers it to the family across the street.

In October.

You bake apology pies for weeks.

“You know this is ridiculous right? Deku, she’s 2” you stress the number, pinching the bridge of your nose. “She isn't going to remember any of this.”

“I'm not listening, I didn't hear that, I am busy putting little princesses on cupcakes, a task you said you would help me with.” He’s grinning when he turns to you, and when you hold out your hand, he places a piping bag full of baby pink frosting in your open palm. 

Together you hunch over the kitchen island to ice and decorate twenty-four strawberry vanilla cupcakes, nudging and snickering at each other’s lopsided princess figures until the two of you are smearing icing on skin and tossing edible glitter into hair.

shouto

You know those “girl dads”? That’s Shouto. He takes her everywhere, takes pictures of everything that little girl does. School plays, holidays, playdates, you name it and there’s a dedicated, timestamped album that Shouto is begging to show every visitor, mailman and coworker. 

He prints them out, and maintains an instagram account filled with his favourite daddy-daughter moments, updated. daily.

Nevermind that he hasn’t used his own personal account in 9 years.

His favourite thing is buying and wearing matching outfits, carrying her in one arm. “Yes, I know she can walk, she’s very talented, she can do anything. She just likes to be as tall as daddy is.”

Whenever he picks her up from school, your husband slides her sweet little coat on and gently secures her into her car seat, right where he can see her when he looks in the rearview mirror. Then, Shouto drives your daughter wherever she wants to go. 

Wherever.

If it’s the zoo, they’re going, and they’re coming back with a gigantic, stuffed red panda to add to her own (not so little) plushie zoo at home. If it’s Starbucks, she comes toddling through the front door holding a VENTI, frozen hot chocolate frappuccino (no coffee, of course) and a brownie. Shouto asks them to make it special, he would never let her handle anything too hot.

“Shouto, stop. You’re gonna rot her teeth, she can’t even finish that.” Which is totally true, the cup’s as big as your daughter’s head. Not that she seems to mind, the way she hefts it up for you to see from the entryway while Shouto undoes her glittery blue shoelaces.

“I’ll finish the rest.” He shrugs, picking her up and plopping her down on the living room couch next to you, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head before shuffling off to hang up their identical winter coats.

He doesn’t even like chocolate.

“Why would she need a iPad?” You grab Shouto by his shoulders and make him look at you. 

“For…school.” His voice is quiet and subdued and you almost feel bad...before you remember your husband is clutching an $800 tablet he intends to give your 6 year old kid to his chest in the middle of an electronics store.

“Baby...she’s in elementary school…They aren’t even using calculators yet.” You try to pry the package out of his grip, steadfastly ignoring the gentle downturn of Shouto’s mouth at the development. 

“She’s very advanced for her age.” The frown is a full on pout by now and you shut it down as quick as you can. 

“No. Uh uh. Put that bottom lip back in. Then put the tablet back.”

It’s wrapped in shiny purple paper by December 19th.

🌿 join my taglist here 🌿

[aserethstorm]

Ever After's 🦢

Pieck Finger x Jean Kirstein  

Also on Ao3!

__________________

Will there be a future after the war?

Whether it brings them to the peace they've yearned for or to even more battles they need to fight. Two wayward souls decided to navigate it together, into this brand new world born from the rumbling.

——————————

It’s a beautiful afternoon, the sun’s shining not too brightly and the sky is a clear blue.

"A perfect time to tend to the garden?" Jean suggests as he lifts the large shovel over his shoulder. Pieck hums, putting on her gardening gloves, already picturing the stubborn weeds awaiting her.

Pieck’s father; Mister Finger greets them as the two exits the opening of their home. Seated on the rocking chair of their porch with a cup of hot coffee and a crisp newspaper at his disposal. Pieck kisses his cheek and Jean tells him where they're heading. The man nods his features softening.

Ever since Pieck broke off her curse: thanks to the help of a certain bespectacled commander and marrying her comrade in war. The once miserable man began to smile, to weave jokes into his conversations. He finally showed Pieck the other side of him that he thought to have died with his wife all those years ago.

He didn’t even complain! Not once when Pieck told him they were moving to the 'damned island of the devils'. Only asking that his humble abode be right next to his daughter so that he can visit often.

“Your father is in high spirits today” Jean comments holding the gate for her to enter. Pieck chuckles both at her husband's words and the sight in front of her. “He’s always in high spirits nowadays Jean...and I’m so thankful he is” she sighs before pointing to Jean where he needed to begin. She bends down, working the knots on the soil.

Duties were still chasing after them like the shadows that haunted them behind. But somehow the two manage to find light in between. Of course, being needed didn’t help as it dwindles the state of their usually empty home.

It takes them an hour and a half before they're halfway done. Their garden is a little bit better than it once before. Jean stabs his shovel on the ground, leaning on it...he wipes the sweat that gathers in his brow. Jean exhales loudly, pulling out the shovel he calls out to his wife. “Hey, we might be able to grow potatoes here too.”

He just realizes upon uttering the last word in his sentence that the memories come rushing back. Memories of a familiar food maniac and their once shared bond. It doesn’t go unnoticed to Pieck as she watches him carefully, her expression solemn at the sight. “That’s nice, the more the merrier.” Jean shakes his head, continuing the task at hand. Though from the way his movements hardened and his jaw clench. He labored the task, troubled.

Pieck grabs the watering can, dampening the now weed-less soil “I wonder how Gabi and Falco are doing...” she absentmindedly asks as she moves on to the next row. This time large plots with living vegetable plants growing in them. Jean grunts lifting the dirt “they're probably attending a school like what normal children are supposed to do.”

He doesn’t notice the long silence that follows. Too focused on the task at hand that he barely hears her utter the next words carefully. He halts, the shovel falling limply to his side, fingers barely clutching the hilt as he turns to her with surprised eyes.

“W-What did you say?”

Pieck looks up to him, smiling like it was just an afterthought. “I’m pregnant,” she spoke albeit slower this time. Purposely drawing out each syllable in the statement. the former cart titan gasps when she finds Jean running to her, lifting her body off the ground as if she didn’t way a thing. She holds on tightly to his shoulders as Jean twirls her around. They both cheer, Jean cheering for both of them since she was too busy laughing at it all.

“Tell me this is a dream!?” He asks eyes bright but slowly being blurred by tears. He remains still with Pieck raised to the air. Her gaze softens as she rubs his cheek, where a single tear rolls. “You're going to become a father Jean,” Pieck confirms, cupping his face in her tiny hands. She says the words as if it was the surest thing in the world, onyx eyes unwavering as she recites the words into his soul.

Jean grins even wider, pulling her close to his lips and into a long-lasting kiss.

________________

“Jean.”

A voice calls and Jean whips around to meet the petite figure approaching him. Wavy black hair flowing softly as she half runs to stand in front of him.

Staring at him with the loveliest abyssal. She smiles and Jean feels his heart tighten. The feeling is neither welcomed nor unwelcome.

“Thanks for having my back, Kirstein.” She nudges, grazing the side of his arm. Jean smiles, silently admiring their height difference. “It’s fine.” He answers.

Only when his gaze turns to the distance, seeing the kids converse with Annie and Reiner that he decides asks “What’s your plan now?”

Pieck pauses for a moment turning her head to her group of warriors. “We’re heading back to Liberio...recover what’s left.” Her voice is soft but it remains firm.

Strong. In an instinct, Jean squeezes her shoulder. Pieck turns to meet his gaze, surprised. “You have us, we're still the alliance after all.” She nods and Jean lets go. The two silently gaze at one another, both pondering on the little act just committed before Connie yells out Jean's name.

________________

They hold hands as they walked back to their home atop the slope. Pieck’s father quickly standing from the porch to welcome them mid-way. As he arrives at their side Pieck shares with him the big news and once again was enraptured in a loving embrace.

Her father smiles, his face now directed towards Jean. The two clasp hands Mr. Finger extending his congratulations to the younger man and they relish a short hug before laughing. They pull Pieck once again between them in that short embrace.

This is getting too much. Pieck thinks but doesn’t at all hate the words. The feeling of so much love between the two men for her was unconditional and she was eternally grateful to have them by her side.

Dinner passes swiftly with the three discussing future arrangements and the way of an announcement to the rest of their friends. Pieck suggests they don’t rush it already imagining the overbearing pampering she’ll be receiving from the lady soldiers she has grown to be acquainted with. Jean smiles at her placing his larger hand above hers, she melts at the sight.

Before they knew it the dishes were cleaned, the table was arranged and Pieck's father was waving them goodbye leaving the couple to their own devices.

After sweeping Pieck plans on finishing her book. Which she hasn’t been able to do in quite a while. The former cart holder hums at the thought, appreciating the tranquil silence that was too soon interrupted by slow jazz.

The music fills her every waking being and she sighs, chuckling at Jean's ridiculousness.

“So is this how it goes...Jean?”

She tilts her head backward meeting his soft loving gaze. Large hands tantalizingly tracing the length of her arms.

Pieck leaves her broom to the side, allowing Jean to sweep her away to the beat. The music is slow and Jean laughs softly when Pieck turns to him, surprised he lead them both back to their bedroom.

The chorus continues and they sway gently to the track that was playing downstairs on the gramophone. Jean holds her hand in his and the other squeezing around her waist. Pieck smiles, she can't help it these days. Allowing her head to rest against his chest as Jean guides her to the steps.

They resume like that for a couple more minutes before Jean gently cups her chin. Making her look up to him once again, accepting her to see the raw undying infatuation and affection the man held for her.

“I love you, Pieck...”

She examines them more and muses the way the burgundy color of his eyes glints at the candlelight before capturing his lips.

Jean was momentarily caught off guard at the action but who wasn’t when it came to Pieck? Instead, he smirks pulling them both to the bed. their lips leaving for a parting second as Pieck situates herself upon his torso. Hands placed on both sides of his head, She cages him.

For a moment they stare at each other, catching their breaths before their tongues collided once again, Pieck delights herself exploring his clothed body with nimble fingers. Making the man below her breathe heavily. The energy around them is burning and Jean makes himself useful by quickly unbuttoning her blouse.

________________

“That was reckless of you Captain Kirshtein.”

Pieck voices, though the tone is not filled with the reprimand and despise Jean was expecting. It was carefree like a trivial thought she tossed at him...just like the way her hands wrapping limply around his neck. Jean huffs pushing up her body further as he continues walking.

It’s the late afternoon and the sun has now begun to set. The two officers have now just departed a global briefing. A meeting compromising the military officials and their plans to do what’s left of humanity outside the island.

“He saw it coming. He knows to never utter those disrespectful towards you...to any of us.”

As Captain, Jean is always there. Always present as he stands side by side with the last two commanders of Paradis’s military and as the former Cart holder Pieck is needed as well. Her knowledge and insight are what are still keeping Marley together along with Reiner. Their duty never ends and Jean thinks he’ll continue fighting until he dies.

You rest when you have already left this world.

The fleeting words of that strange old man he passed by before entering the barracks this morning return and Jean releases a small sigh. Though the battle is over many things have yet to be discussed. This is the price they have to pay...for everything

She lays her head softly on his watching as the sun descends into the horizon. Jean continues looking forward holding her firmly but also careful and gentle.

“Your lucky you’re loved.”

These moments...these precious moments they have together. It began a few years back. Back when the whole world was still scraping the pieces of what’s left.

Official unions are held often and they meet in it all, growing closer. Conversing into the long hours of the night after meetings or military affairs and their bond grew larger than expected. It evolves from there on out...from reassuring words to warm touches. They don’t give meaning to this or maybe it’s just Jean who doesn’t want to give any meaning to this...

too afraid, too scared, too much of a coward. To finally accept this promise of peace and happiness he was deprived of. Who could blame him though? Being a former soldier in the Survey Corps taught this young man to accept that his happiness is fleeting, warm promises meant nothing in the end and you’ll just have to accept the fact that anyone you grow too attached to will leave your side sooner or later.

His thoughts bring him back all those years ago. On that familiar street of that wanted city. The look of emptiness on what’s left of Marco’s face...

“You know what? Let me just take a breather.” Pieck chuckles before carefully plopping off his back and into the earthy ground below. The grass is warm, a little detail Pieck notes to herself as she trails her fingers over its leaves before using them to straighten her skirt.

The two share a solemn silence as they stare at the setting sun. A giant ball fire descending steadily, painting the sky in a cacophony of bright oranges and purples. The beauty of this cruel world never fails to astound Jean. It never fails to leave him gasping for air, just Iike the way he’s holding his breath now.

Looking at her.

Wavy black hair tied in a low ponytail just like the way she tied it back when she was 12. A habit she once told him. The curve of her elegant nose, the paleness of her flawless skin, Tired black pearls that she calls her eyes, trapping the beautiful scenery inside them.

"The world is cruel but it's also very beautiful...Mikasa was the one who said that to me."

"Yeah..."

He continues to stare at her, not caring that the sun has set a decent amount of time before it. He doesn’t care that the stars have now began to appear in the dark blue heaven above and the way she’s now looking at him directly.

“What’s on your mind, Jean?” She asks bopping his nose.

A frightening warrior she is...disguised in such a lovely and beautiful woman.

“You still have to take me back y’know” Pieck jokes, stretching her arms over her head. “That sunset was delightful but I’m afraid I’m going to be late for my curfew.” Marley soldiers visiting the island for business affairs were situated in a residential building in their stay on Paradis and even warriors still need to be disciplined with its time limitations.

She ushers herself to stand only hesitating when Jeans held her hand. Pieck stares at him, watching his emotions shift from a long hesitation to a quick resolve. His burgundy eyes sparkle with hope and Pieck holds her breath.

“Will you marry me?”

He asks softly, eyes shining brighter than any of the brightest stars in the sky. If he asked this of her years back she would have exploited this to her advantage, used him, laughed at him for offering such a thing.

But she got to know him in those years and more. Learning his land, his family,  friends, and him. Understanding every shine and crack that immortalized his past, getting to know him and his flaws and perfections. Without realizing she began to enjoy even more of his presence and her heart made room for him there, etched with care and affection that only grew larger and larger...

She’s sure of her answer as she meets his gaze, lovingly.

“Yeah”.

[isolaradiale]

Yet again the snow had come and gone as the weather cools, melting away with ease over the passing days, but over the evening of November 30th the city was pelted by a terrible snowstorm that buried the land beneath almost five feet of snow. Strangely enough, as the clock turned midnight and December was ushered in, a number of festive events emerged across the city, some even being ones many have heard before, while others seeming entirely new...

As a note: these activities are separate from any events that may be launched during the month of December.

FIBONACCI WARD

BUILD-A-GINGERBREAD MAN High-tech meets sweet treats in this customized kitchen. For a price of (dust), citizens of Spirale can use screens to design a gingerbread cookie to their likeness. You can watch machines behind the glass cut, bake, and decorate your cookie as you command. You could make a gift for your friend... or make a cookie that looks like your worst enemy, and bite off their face. There's something for everyone!

SOUPS UP For the duration of December a giant pot of soup can be found in the center of Fibonacci. The type of soup changes from day to day, and how it replenishes nobody is quite sure! Regardless it is free for the taking and never dries out. Could this be the work of our goddess Ofiuco? Or could it be something more sinister? (It isn’t more sinister, it’s free soup.)

ICE TO MEET YOU A station has been set up in Fibonacci where you can come to view and sculpt ice sculptures. If you destroy any creations that are not your own, expect to have all of the Dust emptied from your account you jerk. All sculptures must be safe for work.

COTES WARD

QUID PRO SNOW Wandering in Cotes, it’s not foreign to see pixies, especially in their playground. However, it seems they’ve invited their frosty little cousins known as frost fairies over to play a few games with them... and you! Making your way into here can land you a pretty sweet reward, given the price you pay. That is, these fairies will be more than happy to make you anything you wish out of the snow and ice were you to give them a small treat or a gift of their liking.

I’M GOING GHOST... INTERACTING! Traveling through the Forest of Airaisal, one can find a passageway that mysteriously opens up on its own, leading to a path less traveled. Whether you choose to take it or not is entirely up to you. Electing to traverse it, you’ll find yourself in a small, private glen where you will encounter the ghost of your past, present, or future self. Whichever appears is up to you, though once it appears you’re welcome to interact with it as you deem fit. Maybe you want to console your past self that everything will be alright? Or perhaps you’d like to reflect on your present self, or at least the one that exists before you arrived here in Spirale. There’s also the option to speak to your future self, on what they think of you now, or maybe guidance on what might come. The possibilities are endless...

NOM RANCHING Visitors to the ward, especially around the Eternal Tree, will come to find magical marshmallow treats that appears to be causing chaos due to magical means! Whether it’s pelting themselves against passing visitors, knocking precious things over, or merely just circling about as a chaotic distraction, it’s clear the only way to keep them in check is to capture them and have a sweet treat so they don’t overwhelm  the area. Hopefully you came with an empty stomach and a sweet tooth, to boot!

GOLDEN WARD

SNOWFLAKE SCAVENGER The Mermaid Cove Mall planned on having dancing snowflakes as an attraction, but it seems the snowflakes formed a mind of their own and... danced right off of their displays! Deciding to salvage the situation, the mall is now making a game out of it--find five of them and bring them back to the desk, and you win a gift card! Watch out, though. The snowflakes are notoriously hard to capture, and seem to take your own strengths into account... This won't be an easy task!

XTREME ICE CHALLENGE The ocean shores of the boardwalk have become completely frozen and boating is no longer possible nearby. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t fun to be had there! An obstacle course has been made for the daring complete with icy ramps, jumps, and obstacles.. Come with skates or without, but the organizers take no responsibility if you slip and break your nose.

SILVER-WHITE WINTERS For the duration of WinterFES, Spirale University is offering a different selection of classes related to the season. There are knitting classes where you can learn to make mittens and scarves, latte art classes to help you decorate your warm drinks for the season, and general classes to help you learn to wrap presents like a pro!

ARCHIMEDES WARD

CAROLS OF THE BELLES On evenings in the Archimedes ward, ringing through the streets from the Calliope Theater courtyard, you'll hear voices as lovely as the singers using them. A chorus known as the Winter Belles begin their lovely lyrical lineup, and the concerts are free to attend. There are also a few open slots to join them, as long as you attend chorus practice.

CRYSTAL FUNHOUSE This large palace is made entirely of ice, and from the inside, one can hear chimes through its halls. Inside are several attractions: a mirror room, a hall full of beautiful ice sculptures, a complementary shaved ice bar for those crazy enough to eat them in this weather... But follow the chimes, and you'll enter the ballroom, which is completely dark save for the tile floor. Each step you take makes a note that sounds most like you, and the ballroom lights up to the tune of your very soul as you dance across the floor... ...What would happen if two people danced together?

YOU BAKE IT YOU BUY IT Throughout the Star Trail, many stalls have been shifted around in order to make a large area for those who wish to put their skills to the test in what seems a continuous bake off. Not only that, but it seems they require volunteers to be the judges of the savory sweets that are gonna be pumped out throughout the days. Fancy yourself an excellent baker who can blow the socks off of any taster who tries your dish or those who wish to place their palettes to the test? Well, have a seat and be served... quite literally!

MISTWOOD

TERRES-TREE-AL DECORATING Once more, a safe passage has been made into the Mistwood, leading to an area called the Traveler’s Garden. Some might remember the need to plant more trees and won’t be surprised to find that those planted back in Spring have now sprouted rapidly and is ready for decorating! Those who planted them can find them in the same spots with several boxes around them full of holiday decorations to get them decorated and ready to shine bright for the snowy season. Oh, and no worries, even if you weren’t able to plant one back in Spring, you’re still more than welcome to help decorate them!

TIS THE SKI-SON In a clearing that breaks off from the decorating, various large hills of snow have sprung up from out of nowhere. Trekking up to the top or taking a ride on a few snowmobiles manned by some island residents will reveal that it’s a makeshift ski and snowboarding attraction! Once fitted with one of your preference, as well as given a safety helmet and goggles, you’re free to slide down those slippery slopes and show off to your pals. Or maybe you’ll just biff it as you catch sight of that rumored dragon in the distance as you ski on down!

SWIRLING GULF

SOMETHING SEEMS ICE-FISHY While the Swirling Gulf can still be accessed, it would seem that a large portion of the waters nearby has been magically frozen over in a thick sheet of ice that can be reached with their submarine transportation system, allowing many people to walk with ease across it. Several holes have been drilled into it as well, allowing people to partake in ice fishing! Though a various amount of fish can be caught, there is also the risk of danger that you may be (un?)lucky to find a murderous large fish at the end of your line. But that could just be a rumor, right? No way there’s some large ghost fish or dangerous sea creature that you could reel in, right...

SNOWMANNING THE FORT Deep below, found in various areas of the sunken city such as the Mainland, Coral Bay, and even near the Kelp Forest, snow that never melts has been brought down and packed into areas where many can build snowmen to their liking. Laced with bioluminescent qualities that offer you any type of color, you can make colorful creations come to life with ease. Not only that, but once completed, the snowman will imprint the emotion belonging to its creator, expressing itself in an exaggerated display on how they currently feel. Whether they’re the happiest they’ve ever been or happen to be a little Scrooge-y at the time, these snowmen are ways to express yourself from the bottom of your heart.

THE CITY OF GLASS

ONSEN AND OFFSEN Recently, there's been some magmatic activity closer to the surface on the back side of the volcano... suspected Nuee Ardente Society activity. Nothing (too) dangerous, though, and in fact, it happens to be below a spring source, turning the small ponds and water pools around the area into hot springs! Despite the snow blanketing most of the rest of the island, the areas immediately surrounding the pools are kept clear, mainly by the hot cocoa vendors who are taking advantage of this sales opportunity. Be careful, though, because the magma flow isn't constant, and the temperature of the water can fluctuate in either direction, for better or for worse.

JUST THE WAY YOU LIGHT IT Leading up to the natural tunnel that gives access to the renown Garden of Ash, many might take note of a beautiful array of lights and colorful flowers that are laid out like a path into the garden itself. It’s highly encouraged to take this path at night, where many hand strewn designs light up in the dwindling hours, also illuminating the various plants which grow in the ashen soils, all while making the already falling ash even more snow-like to fit the snowy landscape the island has become. Some of the lights can even reflect of any glass in the vicinity, creating an almost kaleidoscope effect that can take the breath away of onlookers.

SUNSET CIRCUIT

RINK AROUND THE CIRCUITS While more daring skaters might take fun in Golden Ward, more casual goers might find a bit more joy in the ice skating rink set up on the shores of Moon Beach where the waters have been frozen over and smoothed out. Even more alluring, the ice beneath seems to have a mesmerizing array of glowing colors that light up and forms into playful patterns beneath the ice to the beat of the current playlist. Whether you bring your own ice skates or have them provided, you’ll be sure to have a blast gliding along the top of the neon colors!

SNOW FUN ALLOWED There's a designated arena, full to the brim with snow that never seems to run out, dirty, or melt. Events take place not only throughout the day but also well into the night, with the arena being well-illuminated even at the darkest of hours. A good portion of the arena has been set up with barricades and obstacles for the ideal snowball fight zone, with regular switches between free-for-all or team games; the remainder has been sectioned off to protect any poor bystanders from errant deckings in the face, and is much more for making snowmen, snow angels, or any other sorts of snow activities you can think of. 

[lasignoramain]

Tempus Fugit

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: Major Character Death

Relationship: Jean/Lisa

Summary: "Before demanding too many miracles from the gods, first consider if you are willing to pay the price they ask."

Sometimes, the sand of one's hourglass moves too quickly. What happens when Lisa's time runs out?

Word Count: 3088

Read under the bar, and/or on AO3!

Who knew that helping Barbara convince Jean to go on vacation would lead to Lisa Minci, the simple librarian of the Knights of Favonius, taking on the role of Acting Grand Master? Kaeya could have asked anyone— Amber, for instance. The young girl would be more than willing to take on the role and perform amicably. Even Eula would gladly take on the role of Acting Grand Master, and would most likely view it as a challenge. A test, to see if she's one the same level as Jean when it comes to taking on the tasks of Grand Master.

Even with those candidates, both of which would be ready and raring to assist while Kaeya shirks his duties, he chose Lisa.

Lisa, who chose the measly tasks of a librarian for a reason. Her job is rarely stressful, though she still takes it just as seriously. Jean entrusted the library to her, after all, so she wouldn't disappoint the woman she's severely indebted to.

Jean, as well as Grand Master Varka. Although Varka was adamant on Lisa being the Captain of the 8th Company. Absentmindedly, Lisa grasps at the Vision resting on her chest. The Knights of Favonius— they're all flawed people with ideals and goals independent of their occupations. They don't always act as one would expect.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves, even if it means that you might sacrifice yourself in the process.

Why?

A protector, a guardian, both a shield and a sword, dandelions floating in the Anemo-blessed breeze. A warm smile, gloved hands resting over Lisa's. Determination to work hard to fill the shoes that Grand Master Varka left her, stress building when one too many stacks of paper rest on her desk. Still, she presses on, a storm of productivity. Sacrificing herself for—

For what, exactly, does Jean sacrifice herself for? Or maybe the correct question is who?

The obvious answer would be the people of Mondstadt. They're all grateful for Acting Grand Master Jean— grateful to the point where they're too reliant on her. A lost cat that will inevitably return when it's hungry, advertising papers lost in the breeze that could easily be remade in a day or less. Freedom shackled by a doting Acting Grand Master who can't say no to the people she's meant to protect.

Lisa clears her throat, shaking the dizziness away. Just a few more papers to review and sign, then she'll return to the library to ensure that things are running smoothly.

Is Jean thinking of her while she's away with Barbara and Klee? With Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo, Razer, and Lumine? Hopefully, she's enjoying her vacation thoroughly, reconnecting with that relaxed, fun side that she once had when she was younger. Not that Lisa knows personally what Jean was like before she began shouldering the burdens of a Favonius Knight; she's only heard stories from Barbara, who's always more than willing to share the memories she holds so near and dear to her heart.

Her... heart. When did Lisa's chest start aching? Dull, but uncomfortable nonetheless. Nothing to worry about, it should go away in a few minutes.

Perhaps Kaeya and Diluc will have a small moment of bonding while they're on those islands together. While they're brothers, they've been so distant for so long. Not that Lisa knows why— the reasons of their tense relationship is a mystery even to her. Such a fragile thing the two of them have. Lisa hopes they eventually reconcile.

As for Klee, she's most likely ecstatic to have so many friends with her. Hopefully she'll be even more overjoyed when she realizes who's behind her summer getaway. Lisa played along for the young girl's sake, though she would know that handwriting anywhere, even if Alice tried to change it up. She still dotted her I's the same, and her A's had that exact flourish to them that made it obvious to Lisa.

The omnipotent mage. How much knowledge has she acquired in her travels, compared to what Lisa knows? Does Alice know the truth of why the Archons bestow Visions on mere mortals? Is Lisa paranoid for good reason, or is a fool to be terrified by whatever grand scheme the gods have in store for those "blessed" with obtaining a Vision?

"Before demanding too many miracles from the gods, first consider if you are willing to pay the price they ask."

Blessings will always hide their curses in the depths of the shadows, only rearing their heads when given the best opportunity to cause the most damage.

The dull ache in Lisa's chest turns into a sharp, stabbing pain. Gasping, she keels over, resting her forehead on the cool, polished wood of her desk. Her hat flops unceremoniously off of her head and onto the desk, knocking over a jar of ink and a few stacks of papers.

Always... they always come with a cost.

It wasn't even her Vision that did this to Lisa. Still, she's lived her life, hasn't she? Her hourglass just has less sand than most, and she accepted that a long time ago.

Still, why now? Of all the times, when she's alone. No one to be by her side when she goes. Can't she have this one thing? To have someone hold her close to them while her time finally runs out? Or will she be alone as she always has been, holding everyone at an arm's length, too afraid to grow attached and lose someone, grieve over a lost life?

"Jean..."

Help. She needs help. Her blood is rushing so loudly in her ears, but if she can just manage to get up and find someone, call for help, and she might be able to extend her life just for a little while longer, at least until she can see Jean—

A cough rises up Lisa's throat, and, through her delirious vision, she sees the blood more than tastes it. Is her sense of taste the first thing to go? What about her other senses? Can she still feel her hands, the wooden desk her forehead is resting on, the thrum of her Vision on her chest?

Numb. Numb is all she feels. Is that a feeling, or a lack thereof?

Fuck, she needs to move. If she can just find Eula, or- or Amber. Hell, if she can just get the attention of the guards stationed outside the door.

Power through it, Lisa. This is what you've been saving your energy for— to fight your fate for just one more day. Curse the Archons, curse this Vision, and curse that stupid. Magic. Book—

Lisa groans, slowly pushing herself up from her desk. The entire room is spinning— how is she going to get anywhere like this? It's laughable, really. How many people have referred to Lisa as elegant, refined, composed? This— her, right now— is the complete opposite of how many view her.

Oh, how embarrassed she would feel if she wasn't on the precipice of death, desperate for someone to save her. Where is her knight in shining armor? Any moment now, she should be bursting through that door, always prepared to play hero for everyone.

So, where is her hero?

Lisa's hand slips on the edge of her desk. She barely has the strength to catch herself, so she falls with a loud crash. She needs to get her act together— it would be so embarrassing for Jean to see her like this, wouldn't it? A sweating, shaking mess.

But Jean won't say anything about the state Lisa's in. She'll just give Lisa that warm smile before gathering her up in her strong arms, and then they could go to Windrise for a picnic, or— or even Starsnatch Cliff, so they could pick Cecilia flowers together. Then they could have some tea before they have to go back to work.

Jean. Jean, Jean, Jean.

The floor is so cold, Jean. It's dark, Jean. It was light outside just a moment ago, Jean, where did the sun go? Goodness, how the time flies. To think that you and I only met a short while ago, Jean. I'm so happy that I met you, and— and the rest of the Knights of Favonius, Jean.

A door slams open. Footsteps, but it all sounds so far away. So far, Jean, you're so far away. Can't you come back? Can't you come home, just for me?

"Her... is grave. We need... to the Church, and, while you're at it... the bard. He can send for Jean— don't ask questions, just do as you're told!"

Ah, Lisa can't feel a thing. Is this what death feels like? Nothingness? Her hearing is all she has left. What happens after she loses that, too?

They mentioned Jean. By the time they get a hold of her, it'll be much too late, and not even Barbatos can save Lisa. Perhaps he can keep her spirit here, just for a little longer? She wants to see everyone one more time.

Please. Just once more.

But that would be a bother— Jean is on vacation. Lisa can't be selfish, can't take her away, can't be selfish.

"Come on, Lisa... stay with us."

Who is that? Eu...la. Eula.

Eula.

Lisa wishes she could apologize.

"Until I enact my vengeance on all of the Knights of Favonius, no harm can come upon any of them! Including you, Lisa. I'll make sure that nothing happens to you, or Jean, or Amber—"

Eula's a good person. Strange, but she fits in perfectly with the rest of the Knights. Caring in her own way. She doesn't know about why Lisa has the condition that she does, and she has never asked a single question about it. Lisa's always appreciated that about Eula.

Eula, whose voice she can't hear anymore.

Has she finally died?

Lisa.

Aha, that's a familiar voice.

She opens her eyes to find that, yes, she is dead. How morbid— her soul is outside of her body, and thus she can see her deathly pale corpse resting on one of the cots in the church's infirmary. Her Vision is without its usual amethyst glow. Venti is by her side, though not looking at her physical body. He's looking right at her spirit.

"Well, this is a shame," Lisa sighs, crossing her arms. "Here to take me away with the winds before I can even see my friends, Barbatos? I'm hurt."

Venti shakes his head. "The least I can do is allow you to see them one last time, Lisa. Though it would be faster to take you to the archipelagos where they are now, I've sent Dvalin to gather them, per Eula's request." He smiles sympathetically, eyes full of mirth. "How do you feel?"

Lisa hums, tilting her head to the side. "Must I answer that, I wonder? Although I no longer feel the pain that I did while I was alive, which, I suppose, is a blessing. I expected death to give me much more time to do what I initially planned on doing before I ran out of time, but alas," she sighs, though it's not as if she's actually breathing. How strange. "How long until Jean arrives?"

"It shouldn't be long, now. Dvalin is a fast flier, after all," Venti chuckles, though that sad look never leaves his emerald eyes. "I see that your carefree nature has followed you even in death. If you'd received a Vision from me, you would fit in perfectly."

"Your Vision wouldn't match my outfit," Lisa retorts with a shrug. "I'm the Witch of Purple Rose, not Green. Though, thank you for the offer. Perhaps in my next life, I'll be granted an Anemo Vision."

Venti laughs loudly at that. "Perhaps you will," he agrees lightheartedly. He opens his mouth to add something else, but pauses when they both hear loud footsteps heading toward them. Just as quickly as the mourning left Venti's eyes, it returns. "The winds bring your companions to us quickly, it seems."

Jean bursts into the room, greedily gulping in whatever air she can into her lungs. Barbara, Lumine, and everyone else who had gone to the Golden Apple Archipelago are here.

"Barbatos—"

"Jean. Everyone," Venti solemnly greets the group with a nod. "Lisa asked me to hold her spirit here for a little while longer, at least until she could see the rest of you one last time." He turns toward Lisa's ghost, who stands there with crossed arms. The Anemo Archon summons his lyre, plucking at its strings to play a mellow tune.

A breeze flows through the room, and everyone's gaze moves to where Lisa is standing, next to her physical body. She watches them all intently— Diluc tries to keep his expression unreadable, but his knitted eyebrows, his tightly pressed together lips. Barbara is holding back her tears, to no avail. They all look so... sad.

"Now! Why are we all so mopey?" Lisa chides, shaking her head. She steps forward, placing her hands on her hips. "I certainly wouldn't want to remember my last moments with you lot having such sad faces, now, would I? So smile! It's the least you can do for me, isn't it?"

Klee whimpers next to Albedo, and Lisa's facade cracks. She kneels to Klee's height, smiling at the young girl. "Come now, Klee. You're a strong girl, aren't you? I know it might be hard right now, but you'll be alright."

"But... but I won't get anymore treats from Miss Lisa, will I?" Klee whines, shaking her head. "I don't want that! I want Miss Lisa to keep giving me treats! It's not fair!"

At Klee's tantrum, Barbara finally breaks with a loud sob. Lumine pulls her in for a hug, though Lisa sees the small tear that rolls down the traveler's cheek.

"Oh, Klee. I wish I could've taught you how to make those delicious treats I make you, but I have to leave soon." Pretending to lose herself in her thoughts for a moment, Lisa hums, tilting her head. Then she makes a small "Aha!" before smiling widely. "How about this: Let's make a pinky promise! I'll come back to Mondstadt and teach you how to make those treats, and you have to promise to smile for me."

Klee's face scrunches in confusion, but she extends her pinky to Lisa. "You have to come back! If you don't come back, then I'll be very angry!"

With a chuckle, Lisa wraps her pinky around Klee's. "I will come back, Klee. Then we can make all those delicious treats and eat them together."

The young girl's lips quirk, before she breaks out into a wavering smile. "Mhm! It's a promise!"

Good. Thank goodness. Lisa pushes herself up, only to be met with the one gaze that hurts the most to meet.

"Jean."

The Acting Grand Master squeezes her eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath. It pains Lisa so to see her like this— barely able to keep herself together.

That won't do. That won't do at all.

"Jean," Lisa tries again, hating how weak her voice sounds. "Look at me, please?"

Jean's bottom lip quivers, but she opens her eyes. "Lisa."

Kaeya takes the hint that the two of them needed some privacy, and quietly ushers the rest of the group out of the room. Lisa takes one last look at her friends— her family— before they're gone from her sight. Venti is the only one who stays.

"My sweet, sweet Dandelion Knight," Lisa sighs, stepping forward to cup Jean's face in her hands. "I'm going to come back to you, so don't mourn me, alright? I'll come back, no matter how long it takes."

Jean breathes out a puff of laughter, eyes downcast. "Please don't give me that kind of hope, Lisa—"

"You don't believe me?" Lisa interrupts with a pout. "I'm hurt. I may not be as powerful as Alice, but I can assure you that I have my ways. So, even when you do feel my absence, know that I will never leave your side. Call to me in the winds that flow through Mondstadt, and I will come to listen." Her voice cracks, and she knows that Jean is hiding all of her devastation, bottling it up until Lisa isn't there to see her break.

"Lisa, I—"

"I love you, Jean." Her voice trembles. It's embarrassing, how fragile Lisa sounds in that moment. "Every afternoon we've spent together, every time we've been in each other's company, every time I've made you tea and stolen you away from your work so you would give yourself some time to breathe," Lisa spills her words, desperate to get everything out before it's too late, "I've loved every single moment I've spent with you. Don't forget to give yourself time to relax, Jean; you need it more than anyone in the Knights."

"Lisa, it's almost time," Venti says softly. "I'll take you one last place before I send you off. Where would you like to go?"

"Starsnatch Cliff," Lisa says without hesitating. "Jean. Don't forget this little old librarian, alright? Or I'll—"

"How could I ever forget you, Lisa?" Jean sobs, tears finally spilling over. She manages to smile, though— a shaky, miserable smile through her grief. "How- how could I forget about the woman I fell in love with, knowing that her life was moving much faster than mine? If I could just find a way to return those years you lost," she rambles, wiping at her tears. "If I could just... save you—"

"Jean," Lisa chokes out, vision blurry. Can ghosts cry, she wonders? She certainly feels like she could cry, right about now. "My lovely Jean, it's alright. It was only a matter of time, so please don't... don't..."

Don't cry.

"Lisa."

Venti steps forward, placing a hand on Jean's shoulder. "We must be going, now. I won't be able to keep her spirit for much longer."

Jean nods, a sniffling mess. "Take... take care of her. Please."

"Of course," Venti responds, before gesturing for Lisa to step closer to him. "Are you ready?"

"That's a silly question," Lisa chuckles, taking Venti's extended hand. A green glow begins to envelop the two of them, and Lisa can't help but keep her gaze trained on Jean, who's watching them go. Jean meets her eyes, and she mouths three words to Lisa. One last time.

"Take care, Jean. I love you dearly."

And finally, the sands of Lisa's hourglass come to rest.

[captcas]

hoax

exile by capthamm

your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in

part five of capthamm’s captain swan’s folklore read on ao3 / read the ao3 series

Grounding herself, Emma fists her hands until her fingers irritate the road burn coating her palms. Regina just got off the phone with Cruella DeVil and Ursula. Cruella and Ursula.

What the fuck?  

Killian arrives and she immediately feels the cool touch of his hook rest on her slightly exposed hip. She’s not sure when this became second nature but she’s glad it has— the consistency grounding her further.

Storybrooke. Chernabog. Town line. Cruella. Ursula. Killian. Hook.

Captain Hook.

She’s dating Captain Hook while co-parenting with the Evil Queen who's trying to decide if she should give Cruella DeVil and Ursula a chance at redemption.

What. the. fuck.

She doesn’t have to deal with these looming realizations as often as she did when the curse broke (the first time), but every once in a while something throws her into a tailspin and she has a hard time finding her way out.

If it weren’t for Killian she’d bet her life savings that Storybrooke was all a delusion and she was sitting in a hospital somewhere compensating for years of home hopping and abandonment.

But then there’s Killian.

There’s been three moments in which Emma knew she wasn’t living a lie.

The first was when Henry came back to her after biting the poisoned turnover. The moment he hugged her… that moment was so visceral, she knew it had to be real.

The second was when Neal died, when she felt a wave of feeling wash over her too great to comprehend. More sobering than any event in her life before, it was a direct reminder nothing is permanent.

The third is every moment she’s spent with Killian since the moment she’s met him. Maybe that’s cheating, shoving hundreds of moments into one, but since she’s met Killian everything has changed.

She was standing in the middle of Cora’s attack, heartless corpses scattered at her feet and she felt another loop setting in, then there was Killian. And so their story goes. Every moment of what the fuck and you’ve got to be kidding me, Killian’s been there— whether on the right side or not is here nor there.

She grasps his hand tightly, drawing a small “x” with her thumb near his wrist and she notices him nod slightly before addressing their ragtag fairytale army, “Emma and I are going to head to Granny’s for some food and then we’ll meet Belle at the library to research our new winged friend.” Everyone nods enthusiastically and leaps into action, David delegating the rest of the group out as Killian squeezes Emma’s hand and leads her away from the chaos.

Once they’re out of ear shot, Killian speaks, “Are you alright, love?”

She loves him. It’s weird, the moment you realize something so profound, but she guesses the small moments are as good as any. “I will be. It’s just… a lot.”

“Aye, Swan. I’m sure it would be for anyone not of our land, but you’ve made great strides in making your own place in this world.” He pulls her in tighter and Emma breathes in his welcoming scent. She always envisioned pirates smelling awful, but Killian is probably the cleanest person she knows. Pirates. She takes a deep breath before diving too deep into that thought.

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him, and she can tell Killian knows how much she means it despite her lack of flowery sentiments he is so versed in. He kisses her temple and she welcomes the silence.

She could handle Elsa making her way into town. Emma was on a level playing field with everyone else, backstories practically nonexistent until Anna entered the picture, but with the arrival of Cruella and Ursula, something shifted in everyone.

There’s history there Emma isn’t a part of and no one is being very forward when it comes to clueing her in. Killian’s holding something back, but she assumes it’s out of shame and knows he’ll tell her on his own time– she didn’t fall in love with a man unscathed; dismal pasts are just part of the package. What’s killing her are her parents, both clearly hiding some dark past with these villains. It’s resurfacing all the anxiety she felt the day the first curse broke. Everyone was so elated, families reunited and memories restored, but Emma felt exactly the same– her relief Henry was going to be alright aside. Snow White hugged her daughter for the first time while Emma hugged her friend Mary Margaret for what felt like the hundredth time.

The playing field was anything but level.

The Enchanted Forest was only a further extension of that, Emma constantly on edge yet feeling 6 steps behind. When she got back to Storybrooke, she felt herself level out— at least she knew how to use the restroom here.

Emma hates to say it, but besides the fact Henry was kidnapped, Neverland was a welcome challenge. Killian warned them the island was greatly unknown even to those who reside there permanently. The playing field leveled itself out completely as everyone seemed just as clueless as she was.

Don’t even get her started on her magic.

Henry has had that book memorized since she met him, the stories practically his now despite him not being alive for the majority of them. He’s always on pace with the rest of the group, knowing references to past dalliances and squabbles without so much as turning a page. She’s glad he’s not feeling this level of anxiousness, but wishes beyond all belief that she could take some of that photographic fairytale memory for herself.

It’s the squeeze of Killian’s hand that brings her back to the present and allows her to walk up the steps to Granny’s without tripping and making an ass of herself. Killian places their order and leans in close to tell Ruby something privately. Before Emma can wonder what he’s said, Killian is leading her up the back steps towards his room and unlocking the door.

“I thought you could use some familiar territory to decompress, love.”

Emma loves him. It’s the only thing that’s convinced her this isn’t some dream that is only minutes from being over. It’s what keeps her fighting tooth and nail for some semblance of normal in her new life which is decidedly anything but. It’s what grounds her when there are literal flying demons from hell trying to take her into the sky.

It’s the only thing that’s made perfect sense.

“Thank you, Killian.” He smiles and begins to turn away, not picking up the true gravity of her appreciation. Emma grabs his wrist and he turns back towards her, worry etched into his brow.

“Are you sure you’re alright, love?” She should answer, but finds herself too busy searching his eyes for any hint that this is a dream.

Emma’s known she loves him for a while now, since the moment they returned from the past– the monumental nature of his trade for her family’s safety winning her heart completely. She doesn’t dare tell him that though– she fears the moment she does is the moment she wakes up back in Boston… alone. Emma hasn’t been alone since the moment Henry found her, and while there are moments she wishes for time to sort out her thoughts, she relishes every moment with her family. At this point, she’s not sure she’d know how to be alone anymore and the thought of leaving this reality for the truth scares her everyday.

Killian’s the only one who seems to remind her this is as real as it gets.

His thumb brushes softly across her wrist where he’s slowly taken control. As though he could read her mind, Killian nods ever-so-slightly, a comforting smile breaking across his face. She squeezes his hand, purposely placing one of his rings in an uncomfortable position on her hand in a futile attempt to wake herself up before she jumps to the point of no return.

Emma finds his eyes again– somehow her anchor even though they’re as blue as the sea. She used to drown in them, the emotions she felt overtaking her as they acted as x-rays into her soul, but as time moved on all she found was comfort. Taking a deep breath, she decides she doesn’t want to live on this edge anymore. If this is all a hoax, she wants to know now before the pain of waking would be more excruciating than she already imagines it would be, but also before he tells her first, and the fear of the unknown stops her from returning the sentiment. Emma aches to tell him, so that she can finally know if the fairytale (literally) she’s been living is truly her life.

So she does.

“I love you.”

As Emma expected, he surges in for a kiss, his actions speaking louder than her three words -even long ago. He comes up for air, and for a moment, Emma refuses to open her eyes, sure the dream will have changed, or worse she’ll have woken up all together, but then that moment passes. Killian’s forehead is hot against hers as she feels the smiles lines grow across it. He breathes out and his breath graces her lips softly. In a seemingly impossible task, Killian closes what little distance remains between them. Emma moves in to kiss him once more, but he leans back slightly to stop her. It’s then, on instinct alone, that Emma finally opens her eyes. As she gazes into an endless expanse of blue, a weight lifts from her chest– a weight left long ago when she turned to find cops in that alleyway instead of Neal. She never realized how heavy it was, not until the moment it was gone– or if not gone, shared.

“I love you too, Swan.”

He brings her back to the here and now in an instant and she’s home.

His voice– light and full of the kind of happiness she truly thought was reserved for the best of dreams– buries itself deep into her mind, creating a sort of tattoo on the memories that lived there. Sure, she’d been told I love you many times, by many people, but the words that leave Killian’s mouth feel permanent.

They feel real.

She rushes forward to kiss him, once again. The electricity radiating through her body, the feel of his hands laced along her lower back, and the smile forming  against her lips finally convince her that, while her life may be part fairytale, it’s undoubtedly as real as any of the others in Henry’s ancient book.

. . . 

@mariakov81​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @teamhook​ @nikkiemms​

[merelliahallewell]

An Order of Embers Roleplay Primer

Hello, friends. A while back I wrote a not-so-brief guide to Order of Embers roleplay that seemed to help a few people. MG’s Kul Tiras community has been growing lately and I’ve also founded a new guild and RP project set in Drustvar, and so I figured I would update this for clarity and ease of reading. In other words? I... am back on my bullshit.

This primer will be headcanon/fanon free, and only reference quest text or other information that can be found in-game in Drustvar. If headcanons are your thing, I’ll be releasing an in-character guide to Kul Tiras’s monsters and dark magic soon. I hope. It is the endless writing project. 

Drustvar’s Woes

On Kul Tiras’ western side lies the mountainous region of Drustvar. It provides most of the island kingdom’s ore, some food, and some of their strongest warriors.

In recent times, a civil war raged across Kul Tiras. A secessionist, N’zoth-aligned faction run by Lord Stormsong in the north and an attempted coup led by Lady Ashvane in Boralus itself nearly toppled the Proudmoore Admiralty, but were stopped by brave souls. Drustvar was strangely absent from these conflicts, and many refugees spilled out into the rest of Kul Tiras telling frightening tales of “wooden demons” who had driven them from their homes.

Most of the land west of the mountains had fallen to a group of terrifying magic-users who enslaved the minds of all they came into contact with... if they didn’t kill them for sport or use them as reagent for foul and perverse rituals. The land east of the mountains was on the brink, as well. Corrupted wildlife roamed the woods freely and witches practiced their dark spellcraft freely, driving the remaining desperate souls into worship of the wickermen or into frenzied attempts to prosecute innocents for the crimes of the terrifying Heartsbane Coven. All of this happens before the player even arrives in Drustvar.

The Order of Embers

During the zone’s storyline, the player and Lucille Waycrest discover that the magic being used against the people of Drustvar is that of the ancient Drust, who were defeated thousands of years earlier by a group known as the Order of Embers. The Drust were a seafaring clan of Vrykul that eventually settled on Kul Tiras sometime after the Sundering. They developed druidic ways that brought them in tune with the land and even earned them the blessing of nature spirits, but those ways were perverted by a sorcerer-king who set the Drust upon the path of death and domination.

The old Order were comprised of those who took up arms against their far more powerful foes, exploiting weaknesses in Drust magic uncovered by scholars. The Waycrests were members of the ancient order, and it was Arom Waycrest himself who led the charge to defeat the Drust king Gorak Tul. In the cavern Gol Var, once a Drust stronghold, they recover an ancient tome known as the Tome of Silver and Ash, a treatise which contained all the old Order’s knowledge on combatting their magic.

In the town of Arom’s Stand, some of the Waycrest Guard’s finest remaining soldiers were recruited to become the reborn Order’s first Inquisitors. The newly-anointed inquisitors brought the fight to the Heartsbane from there.

The Order’s battles with the Heartsbane Coven play out over the latter half of the Drustvar questing experience and also the zone’s world quests. They add new members to their ranks, create new weapons for use against the Coven, and push back against them on all sides. Eventually, they storm Waycrest Manor, cutting off the head of the snake and defeating the Coven’s leadership. Gorak Tul was forced back into the death-realm of Thros, prevented from returning for the time being. (Tul was later killed in Thros during the Pride of Kul Tiras questline.)

It’s unclear how long it took to purge the Heartsbane from Drustvar- if the task was truly completed at all. Blizzard rarely addresses zone stories after the fact, which means the plot thread has been left hanging and was not addressed in any subsequent patches in BfA. The Order of Embers also assisted with the fight against the Horde during the Drustvar invasion.

It may be a reasonable inference that Drustvar is being repaired and de-cursed in the aftermath of the war, but that is not an easy task.

Who leads the Order of Embers? Does it have a hierarchy?

Lucille Waycrest- now the ruling Lady of Drustvar, and the last of her house, is in charge of the Order. All inquisitors are raised to their stations by the authority of House Waycrest. Other important figures are the remaining original inquisitors (Sterntide, Mace, Notley, and Yorrick), the quartermaster Alcorn, and Marshal Joan Cleardawn, a former inquisitor that was given new leadership over the Waycrest Guard.

The Order seems to lack much of a formal hierarchy- most of the named NPCs are simply titled with inquisitor, working together as a team rather than issuing commands to one another. They also seem to be adept at handling missions alone and on their own or with the aid of local allies. 

Can I roleplay an inquisitor or other member of the Order of Embers? Is it lore-abiding to do so?

Sure! The Order didn’t stop at five inquisitors- a world quest boss for the Horde during the invasions has them facing off against a new Inquisitor named Erik. They also have a quartermaster and a cleric, which means there may be support staff involved that do not bear the big title but are still part of the group. The Order is probably not handing out inquisitor garb like candy, but there’s no reason to assume that a worthy and trusted individual wouldn’t be made an inquisitor.

However, it is worth mentioning that the Order of Embers might not be too trusting of those wielding or even infused with darker powers, given the devastation of their homeland by spellcasters wielding terrifying magic. That is just a guess on my part, but an educated one. Drustvar as a whole has a very low-magic culture.

Could a non-human join the order?

I don’t see why not, but there are no non-human methods ingame. I would never say that it is lore-breaking to roleplay a nonhuman as an Inquisitor, just that there’s no real in-game basis to make this judgement on either way. If you want to roleplay an inquisitor that’s not human and you think you have solid IC reasoning: go for it!

Obviously, the Order of Embers may be more hesitant to accept, say, a void-infused elf with tentacle hair or a worgen warlock as an inquisitor than a race they’re more familiar with such as a sturdy dwarf or genius gnome. Ability to serve House Waycrest and being of aid against the Heartsbane are likely strong factors in joining up- they may not make a person an inquisitor if they’re a night elf sorcerer that’s been in Kul Tiras for two weeks and hasn’t ever seen a witch in his life.

Initiation Ceremony

To become a member of the Order of Embers, the initiate undergoes a short ritual where they are presented with their garb.

Brothers and Sisters, today you become the searing fire that burns away the darkness.

Today you become the shining blade that cuts through the wicked.

Today you become the beacon of hope against the endless foe.

By the authority of House Waycrest, I name you inquisitors of the Order of Embers!

Clothing and Armor

Upon being appointed to their new stations, inquisitors are offered a set of garb inspired by drawings in the Tome of Silver and Ash of what the ancient inquisitors wore. This armor seems to be dark brown leather gear and also has a feathered cap involved- though only one of the inquisitors seems to have chosen to wear that accessory. The specific in-game set is the “Armor of the Dashing Scoundrel,” which comes from Antorus. It drops from the heroic difficulty of the raid. It should be noted you don’t need the whole set- each inquisitor wears different pieces of it and matches them with other clothing or armor pieces. The hat also has a chance to drop from the Commodore Calhoun rare in Vol’dun. Not sure if it would drop for non leather users, so be careful.

Don’t feel like you have to be a rogue to play an Inquisitor- going for tones of brown with some silver or grey mixed in will likely net you a pretty good-looking set. There are Kul Tiran questing and dungeon plate sets that look fantastic and are worn by Waycrest Guard/Marshal NPCs that would work great as an inquisitor’s battle armor.

The Order also has a tabard, which is worn by the quartermaster who sells it. While no inquisitors actually seem to wear it, it’s one of the better-looking tabards added that expansion and has a distinctive look. It matches well with just about any gear that has brown or tones of silver/grey.

If you’re looking for some transmog ideas, this is a link to the Order of Embers mogs on /r/transmogrification. There is a super sweet plate set OoE set on there that actually won Best Dressed of 2018 for that armor class.

If you’re looking for a great Order of Embers-type transmog, the Leather PvP set from Shadowlands’ first season really hits those vibes. It has a very witch hunter theme to it, is colored largely brown, and the belt has fucking potions and silver spikes on it for use on... enemies. I cannot understate how badass this set is. The best part? It is not class locked, meaning that this armor is available to anybody that can wear leather gear, if you toggle the vendor pane to show “all classes.” However, it does cost Conquest points (and a lot of them), so you may want to be picky with what you grab unless you don’t intend to gear through PVP this season. We don’t know if it will be available after the season ends, so you may want to pick that up soon if it’s your thing. Also, it’s just a nice-looking coat and we don’t have a lot of those in-game. 

Weaponry

The inquisitors of the Order of Embers wield a number of different weapons, taken from their prior occupation as members of the Waycrest Guard. Everything from two-handed swords to crossbows are used by them- and that’s just primary weapons. Their armor features throwing knives as well. Inquisitor Mace even carries a trio of daggers sheathed at her belt- it seems they have no shortage of tools for dispatching foes with.

Players who have completed the zone’s Bleak Hills Mine quests also have a buff called Silvered Weapons. Silver can disrupt the magics of the Drust, and stun abberations, elementals, and undead in the zone. This is an inference, but it may be because all of those monster types in Drustvar are powered by this magic. The silver recovered from one of the region’s mines was used to begin producing weapons for the Order such as the silver-plated hand cannon Witchrend, which seems to shoot silver shrapnel to great effect against the Heartsbane.

It should be pointed out that silver is a shitty metal to make a weapon out of. It is not half as strong as steel or whatever else they make weapons out of in Azeroth. The original Order of Embers got around this fact by making weapons with a steel core and covering them with a layer of pure silver- you find one of their long-abandoned knives out in the world.

Other universes have done similar things with silver weapons- D&D has a ruling about silvered weapons, and The Witcher series has a whole class of silver swords created with special forging techniques. It may be wise to take a page from the latter universe, as Witchers face the same issue regarding silver’s weakness as a weapon. They get around that by carrying two swords- one for men, the other for monsters. I’m not telling you that you should roleplay a Witcher but I am saying that’s kind of half the reason we’re here, so it might be okay to borrow that idea since they face that very legitimate problem with a smart solution.

Storm Silver is a metal found abundantly in Kul Tiras, and is used for building ships, making armor light enough to swim in, and consecrating for various uses by Tidesages. It is likely not the same as pure silver, but we don’t have explicit confirmation either way.

Alchemical fire is also a potent weapon against witches and Drust alike, crafted by Master Ashton. The original text specifically says it was used to “burn away the Drust.” This concoction is tricky to make, requiring the reagents Heartbloom, Saltpeter, volatile sap, and Sulfur. The fire is carried in a reinforced flask that is made to withstand the test of time, able to hold the volatile components without igniting. Inquisitors use alchemical fire to pour over dangerous objects or to shift into more breakable containers for throwing. This is seen in the Gorak Tul fight, when alchemical fire is put into flasks which are shattered over the corpses of his minions to prevent them from rising again. 

It isn’t addressed whether magical fire has the same effect as this alchemical concoction. A fire mage, destruction warlock, or priest wielding holy fire might be a neat character concept to bring to the table for an order that doesn’t have a lot of magic.

Rowan wood is also useful against Drust magic. However, it is not specified how exactly it is helpful. Rowan trees don’t grow in Kul Tiras, so an inquisitor seeking that wood would need to travel overseas for such a reagent. It could, however, be extremely helpful and far cheaper than making a silver weapon. 

Non-inquisitor Roles

If you find the Order of Embers cool, but don’t think you like the idea of hunting witches all day, they have more than just inquisitors. The witch hunters rely on specialists to help them get the tools they need to beat back the Heartsbane, and even simply through the questing experience they gather new allies. The blacksmith Angus Ballaster and the alchemist Master Ashton both are essentials. As mentioned before, they are also joined by a cleric, Loriette. A skilled smith or alchemist could find work alongside the Order of Embers, perhaps helping to craft more weapons for them or concocting potions for use in the field.

Allies

The witch hunters are not the only ones out to defend their homes- they are joined by a plethora of others trying to protect the region. Whether you believe the Coven is still an active threat or not, these are still the most common friends an Inquisitor may find in the field.

Waycrest Guard - The Waycrest Guard are Drustvar’s chief protectors, but lost many of their members to the mind-enslaving curse of the Heartsbane. They work alongside the Order of Embers in the Drustvar quests. The original inquisitors are all drawn from the Waycrest Guard, so the Order has deep ties with them. It appears largely as if the Guard protect the settlements, and the inquisitors are the ones striking deep into enemy territory. They could be called to do heavier lifting when the Order alone cannot do the job.

Town Militia - With much of the Waycrest Guard falling under the control of the Coven, the towns of Drustvar were forced to look to their own defenses, such as in Falconhurst and Fletcher’s Hollow. Ordinary citizens have bravely taken up arms in defense of their homes, and the aid of a skilled inquisitor would likely be welcomed. Even with the witches defeated, it’s likely some militia still protect their towns.

Thornspeakers - The Thornspeakers are a faction of Drust and human druids that live out in Drustvar’s woods and mountains. They are led by Ulfar, the last living Drust and the leader of the faction that sided with the humans against their own kind. The Thornspeakers seem to congregate at Ulfar’s Den along the eastern side of the mountains, but watch over all of Drustvar and Tiragarde. They work hard to maintain the balance in nature, and have allies in the mysterious pair of stags that roam the forests...

Drustvar Rangers - Though they only appeared in a few brief quests supporting the Thornspeakers, Drustvar seems to have a number of woodsmen trying to do their part to protect their home. They do not seem to be magical or anything, just some normal folks 

Notes, RP hooks, Excess Lore, etc

The Order of Embers is based out of Arom’s Stand in central Drustvar. The building Lucille occupies is possibly their headquarters. They also may use Gol Koval as a base of operations. 

Onions seem to be anathema to the witches and their servants. 

Witches have been observed to call upon Drust magic without the Coven’s assent- once by a rejected witch in Drustvar, and again in Tiragarde at the Algerson Yard. This could open up the possibility of inquisitors venturing outside Drustvar to battle new threats. Additionally, it seems as if there may be some witches left as of the Shadowlands quests that take you back to Drustvar, so the hunt may not be over.

The Drust themselves have invaded Ardenweald from Thros. Whether it’s Drust artifacts/contraband making their way into Azeroth of the Drust themselves trying a full-on invasion through the yawning portal into Thros that was left unresolved in BfA, there’s a ton of possible plot threads that can be picked up related to them. A journey into the afterlife wouldn’t even be out of the question, since common citizens make it to Oribos and there is talk of mortals being able to join covenants. The Night Fae would be in dire need of a bold soul bearing flame and silver to drive back their foes and protect the cycle of life and death.

The Holy Light may be used by some members of the Order of Embers. Inquisitor Erik uses holy spells for his attacks when engaged by Horde players, and Cleric Loriette casts a fiery blessing on players who have unlocked her, a spell type usually reserved for priests. She’s also a cleric which usually implies the Light in this universe. A Light-wielding inquisitor is not out of the question, it seems, especially since Drustvar seems to have some ties to the Light if you look into it. 

Despite the possibility of Drustvari Light-wielding inquisitors, this is not the same situation as the Scarlet Crusade. The Order of Embers is not a holy or religious order. It owes allegiance to House Waycrest. Religious zealotry is not on their menu. Per the faction description, the Order of Embers fights with knowledge guiding their blades. 

It’s unlikely the Order would be suspicious of magic-users such as druids or shamans, given that they share a continent with Thornspeakers, Tidesages, and even mages (even if those are offscreen). They would have to be a pretty poor inquisitor to confuse the magics of their allies with that of Drust magic, so don’t go inquisitioning random magic users. 

This isn’t really anything to do with canon, but please don’t use the Order of Embers to live out really fringe stuff with purging ‘heretics’ or being racist at elves or what have you. The community has a history with seeing that sort of stuff in inquisitor characters and it is unlikely to earn you a super great reception if you choose to roleplay that. 

Further Reading (Fanon and out-of-WoW information)

This blog post goes over some potential processes for silvering and what happens when these weapons are used on creatures averse to silver.

Matt Mercer has created an interesting Dungeons & Dragons class called the Blood Hunter (which used to be called Witch Hunter.) It provides some interesting ideas that could be brought into an inquisitor character, especially one that might be interested in wielding darker magics to counter evil powers. You can view the class on D&D Beyond, or read the old Witch Hunter PDF which is a prior draft.

I recently did a huge series of writeups on the Drust, the Order of Embers’ perennial foe. If you’re wanting something to face off against or just want to know your lore, you can give these a read!

The Drust Background  - -  The Drust in BfA  - -  The Drust in Ardenweald

Night Fae Campaign (1)  - - Night Fae Campaign (2)

- - - - - -

I hope this post was helpful to anybody who’s feeling like trying out this sort of roleplay! It’s terribly long-winded but I wanted to do my best to cover all of the information out there. If you’d like to reach out to me about this topic or roleplay with an inquisitor, I play the character “Inquisitrix” mainly on both Moon Guard and sometimes “Merciella” on Wyrmrest Accord. 

If you’re looking for Order of Embers-themed roleplay and you play on Moon Guard, the guild <Silver and Ash> might be what you’re looking for, as they roleplay a group of inquisitors! On Wyrmrest Accord, there is a small interguild community called the Hex Hunter’s Society that I believe may be active still. If you’re looking for other Kul Tiran-type roleplay or want to put an inquisitor in a different environment, there are a few other guilds out there that utilize Kul Tiras on both Wyrmrest and Moon Guard. Happy hunting!

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (14/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

and also catch up on tumblr!

a/n: We finally have made it to uncharted territory! This chapter and the rest that follow were all cooking in my brain for literal years, y'all. I'm very nervous to share, but so excited I can finally finish this off!

Thank you so much for all of your support as I've reposted this story. It's meant so much!

I hope this ending answers questions, wraps up all the plot points, and warms your soul.

///

Fourteen

One Week Later

One of the world’s most ancient Garfield mugs is warm against Emma’s palms. She sits curled up in the window seat of her childhood bedroom unable to sleep. Henry, on the other hand, still sleeps to her immediate right hand side.

She should be sound asleep like him. It should be easy now that she’s home again in the safety of her parent’s house, with a perfectly cushioned mattress and food to last her a lifetime. 

But instead, her mind spins just fast enough to keep her heart racing, and all through the night, she finds herself running her fingers through the pages of one of Killian’s journals, reading and re-reading his private works until she thinks she could rehearse them on command.

Her cheeks are warm with the heat of the tears that seemed to so easily find her eyes. She shuts them, taking a deep breath through her nose.

They didn’t let her return to the island. They wouldn’t let her return to the island. 

And worse, nobody, not even Mister Smee, has said a word about what happened to Killian or the island on the day of her return to civilization.

Emma’s parents didn’t want her going off on her own yet. Maybe it was out of fear- they’d lost her once and didn’t want to lose her again- or maybe it was to protect her and Henry from the cameras that seem to always be right outside.

She’d never even given a thought to the idea that she’d be a global news story. But, apparently “girl goes missing from a cruise ship and washes up on a mysterious island in the middle of the ocean” is a story people are hungry for. 

A creak on the steps that lead up to her little loft bedroom signifies that someone’s coming to see her, so she steadies herself and pulls on a tiny smile. Turning, she finds her father, a tired look in his eyes and his hair gently tousled from sleep.

He steps into her bedroom quietly, without having to say anything, and sits opposite her on the window seat. He peers outside for a minute, so she allows her gaze to drift that way, too, comfortable in the solace of knowing he’s here. 

His gentle, warm hand touches her calf and he squeezes it briefly. “I was thinking about taking a drive up the coast.” Emma looks at him and finds his eyes soft. “We can hide out at Uncle Leroy’s until the…” He shakes his head, grimacing, “circus goes away.”

They all hate it. Even their neighbors have complained. It isn’t fair that they’d decided to keep covering the story from their perch outside of their house. As if there was any story left to tell. All that was left was Emma struggling to return to normal life.

“They’ll just follow us.” Emma sighs. 

She stares at her father, wondering if he can tell she feels like a shell of a person, or if her walls and facades were just high enough to hide behind. Of anyone, she knew he’d be able to read into her.

His gentle smile is almost sorrowful. “It’s nice to dream.”

When she’d told her parents that she met a man on an island, they’d initially been relieved. At least she hadn’t been alone and scrounging for food and habitat. She’d been fed, warm, and safe. At least, for the most part.

It had been more difficult to explain that Killian wasn’t just a man on an island. She’d expected confusion, maybe some sense of doubt or worry, but instead, they promised they wouldn’t stop looking for him.

Still, she wonders if they realize how much Killian means to her. That the guilt of leaving without him weighs heavy on her breastbone, or that she isn’t sleeping with millions of what-if scenarios haunting her instead of dreams.

Emma follows David’s gaze back out the window, where the sun has finally pushed beyond the horizon. She glances over her shoulder when she hears Henry’s telltale stirring, and gets up before he can cry.

She reaches into his newly purchased crib and smiles, settling him into her arms with a whisper, “Hi, Henry. Hi. Did you sleep well?”

The doctors tell her it’s a miracle that he’s still alive and healthy after not being fed properly for so long. But she isn’t surprised. He’s a fighter, just like her.

Emma goes to work right away, setting him on the changing table her parents had eagerly bought to resolve his smelly diaper. Once he’s changed, she grabs a bottle and looks at her father, tipping her head toward the stairs.

“Time for breakfast. You coming?”

He smiles at her thoughtfully and crosses the room, stopping short of her. “Neal’s here.”

Emma nods. “I know.”

He’d stayed the night. Again. She knows because she’d had a late night feeding and found him curled up on the couch, clearly uncomfortable, but suffering through just the same.

“He was worried about you, Emma,” her father explains for the millionth time, “I didn’t realize you were…”

“I know,” Emma says again. She takes a steadying breath, pulling on another smile for him. “It’s fine. He’s… been surprisingly nice.”

It’s true. He has been very nice. He’s eager to help with anything she needs. He’s always running errands on their behalf, making food for them, keeping nosy neighbors away from the front door… enforcing the justifiable hours that the media can stand guard past the sidewalk. 

If she hadn’t already made up her mind about him, she might be persuaded to fall back in love. 

Emma enters the kitchen to find her mother already making herself busy, multitasking with a phone in one hand and a spatula in the other. 

She shakes her head, scowling at whoever is on the other end of the call. “You’re not helping when you call me with pointless updates like this.”

Her eyes brighten once they find Emma and Henry, and a big smile grows on her lips. She mouths, “Hi,” and gestures to the pancakes on the skillet in front of her.

Emma smiles and nods in approval of the pancakes in question, although she isn’t sure she could even try to eat. Her stomach still feels sick.

Neal sits at the kitchen island, a mug of his morning coffee lifted to his lips while he scrolls through an app on his phone. He looks up at her as she prepares Henry’s bottle.

“Oh, I can hold him while you do that.”

He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, already at her side with hands held outward before she can protest, so she allows him to take the baby. Henry seems to like Neal, at least as much as he can, so once he’s in Neal’s arms, she only hesitates for a few nervous seconds before continuing her task.

“How’d you sleep?” Neal wonders genuinely.

“Okay.” Emma lies. She meets his eyes. “Sorry if we woke you up.”

Neal frowns, shaking his head with his brow knitted. “No, no. It’s fine. Believe me.”

Her mother heaves a sigh as she sets the phone down on the counter. “Every morning it’s the same thing. I can’t believe it. How could there be no new information? It’s been a full week! Surely there’s something.”

The only piece of information they’d been told was that they had dispatched a crew to check the island, and after that, it almost felt like they were forgotten.

Emma bites her lip when she feels it tremble, focusing on what she’s doing so much that she worries someone might think she’s being too quiet. 

“Maybe we should go ourselves. To the island.” Neal says. “If they can’t find anything, maybe… I don’t know, maybe Em can see something they’re not.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” her father says diplomatically. “Emma’s still recovering.”

Neal scoffs. “She’s not crippled, Dave.”

“She’s not mute, either.” Emma says, looking at the group. 

They become quiet, her father looking especially guilty.

“I’m sorry, Emma. If something happened on the island. If...”

“If he’s dead, they would’ve said something.” Emma finishes his thought. She closes her eyes, breathing in. It’s a moment of clarity that she hadn’t realized she even had within her. “If we meant anything to him, he’ll find us. Let’s just… try normal life again. As much as we can.”

Her mother seems worried for a few seconds, but soon offers a smile and nods. “Anybody hungry for pancakes?”

/

Storybrooke’s harbor has always been her favorite place to eat lunch on quiet afternoons. Facing the water, watching the boats drifting off in the distance, as puffy white clouds moved slowly overhead, she could always find something calming here.

She sits on her favorite bench, Henry in his stroller at her side, and Neal sitting opposite. 

They’d been quiet since deciding to leave the house, eager to do something other than sit idly while they waited out the media storm and the non-updates from oceans away. 

Even though it’s freezing, it’s still nice to be outside. 

It’s the first time they’ve really been alone, apart from her parents. Tension simmers between them, as if they’re supposed to talk about everything that went on. As if she needs to tell him about her change of heart with regards to their relationship. 

But she really, really doesn’t want to.

Emma breathes in the salty air and allows herself to retreat back to the island in her mind, to the cozy nights in the living room with Killian reading to her. To the last morning they’d shared, so natural and good. 

She’s in love with him. She thought he felt the same. 

It didn’t make sense that he’d just disappear. 

Beside her, Neal clears his throat softly. “Emma.”

It’s clear to her when she looks at him that he must be nervous, his fingers dancing on top of his knee for a few seconds before he folds his hands together in his lap.

“I was an asshole. Our entire relationship. Hell, my entire life I’ve been an asshole.” He scoffs, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a single sigh. “When your folks told me you were missing, I… totally lost it. No sleeping. No eating. Couldn’t focus on anything. So I flew over there, just to be with them while they waited for answers.”

She thinks she sees a tear in his eye. He sniffles, clearing his throat again. “We waited for almost three weeks.” He pauses, his upper row of teeth tugging at his lower lip. “I never saw them waver. I never saw them admit it was possible you were gone, even though that’s all anybody was saying around them.”

Emma knew it hadn’t been easy. She knew it had been a long time. But she can see in the pure sorrow on Neal’s face just how taxing it had been.

“Uh…” Neal takes another deep breath. “I guess I’m telling you all of this because losing you made me realize I knew how bad I was to you and I always just thought I’d get the chance to make up for it, you know? I thought I’d get the chance to be better for you. But, then...” 

Neal shakes his head, clearly getting upset. A tear escapes his eye and he quickly wipes it away. “I thought you were dead.”

His voice is barely a whisper, spoken so quietly and with such passion that she knew nothing but the tight knot in her chest. She aches for him, and her parents, knowing that they’d been through so much. Knowing that they’d never stop looking for her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.” Neal apologizes, honesty in the sorrowful knit of his brow. “I’m so sorry.”

Emma closes her eyes as she wraps her arms around him, holding him as close as she can on a bench. He begins to weep, his sobs wracking his body while he buries his face in her neck. She runs her fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“It’s okay.” Emma whispers. “It’s okay.”

When he finally pulls away, he’s far more broken than he had been before. He’s almost a new person. “I feel so stupid, crying like that.”

“No,” she insists, shaking her head.

“I know you moved on.” Neal tells her, glancing briefly at the water ahead of them. “And that’s okay. We were never meant to be together.” His admission feels like a weight being lifted off of her shoulders. “I just needed you to know that I’m sorry.”

Feeling free, yet vulnerable, Emma studies him quietly. He distracts himself with the view in front of them, but she can tell he’s still emotional. His knee wobbles and bounces quicker with each passing second. 

Gently, she rests her cheek on his shoulder, wrapping her fingers around his arm, and stares out at the water. “We can still be friends.”

Neal laughs softly, his breath a white cloud in the cold December air. His knee stops bouncing. For a while, he’s quiet.

“Okay.”

/

One Week Later

There’s a dull throbbing in his head when he wakes up. The first thing he hears is the pulse of a heart rate monitor, followed by nearby chatter.

And then he hears laughter, bubbly and infectious. 

Emma. Henry. 

Slowly, his eyes open and he squints as he adjusts to the bright light that pours in from a nearby set of windows. The sterile room is small, with only a single chair accompanying the bed he lies in. 

In the chair, Smee sits, snoring with his cheek pressed to his shoulder. He’s wearing a jacket as his blanket, and it appears that the man hasn’t seen civilization in a while, based on the beard he’s sporting.

His eyes fall closed again, feeling far too heavy to keep open. 

An adorable crinkle by a shining green eye. Strands of blonde caught between his fingers. A whisper of his name in his ear.

Emma. Henry.

Killian licks his lips and groans under his breath at the aches and pains stinging all over. He’s still drowsy, feeling heavy, as if he’s been drugged. Sitting up is a chore, but he does it anyway.

He hears her voice, a whisper- maybe a memory, “Storybrooke. It’s in Maine. Can’t miss it. Can’t find it, either.”

Emma. Henry. Storybrooke.

“Smee,” he says, voice thick and cracking with lack of use. He clears his throat and opens his eyes once again. “Smee.”

The man in the chair jostles awake, licking his lips and sitting upright with his eyes wide. “Jones. You’re awake.” Smee pulls himself to his feet, jacket discarded at his feet. “How do you feel? Any pain?”

Killian grimaces, rubbing at his forehead, where the headache has begun to throb intensely. “I feel bloody fantastic, mate.”

Smee hesitates, seeming to not know for sure what to say. “You took quite the beating. Um… four broken ribs and your shoulder was dislocated. You were concussed. I know it doesn’t sound all that bad, but you were…” The man frowns, pausing as he searches for the words. “You were broken.”

A dislocated bone. A crack. A scream louder than any other.

Emma. He needs to get to Emma.

Killian starts to pull at the sheets. “Where’s Emma?”

“You should lie down. Let a doctor come check on you before we worry about that.”

He shakes his head. “No, I promised I’d…” He feels dizzy, so he falls back heavily against the bed, causing the frame to shake. “Where are they?”

Smee smiles gently. He grabs something from a table beside the bed and shows it to him. A newspaper. Emma and Henry on the front page.

“She had to go home. It was bordering on unsafe staying, what with all of the paparazzi and media. I couldn’t even see her once she got off of my boat. I heard that her folks wanted to stay and wait, but… the baby, he needed a little extra help from doctors and… you were nowhere to be seen.”

Killian furrows his brow slightly. His mind feels like a fog of knowledge, some of it clearer than the rest. He can’t seem to remember what happened after Emma left. “Where was I?”

“You were only just found a few days ago.” Smee says, clearly holding something back. He lowers his voice, “Stuffed into a barrel.”

The memories come back in almost a painful revelation. He shuts his eyes. “Bloody hell.”

“Lucky for you, you’ve got a brilliant mind in you.” Smee says optimistically. “You’ll be fully compensated for everything. What you did out there… it was damned heroic, Jones. You’ve had your name cleared.” 

“How do you know that?”

Smee shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “As soon as they found you, I didn’t leave your side.” 

The man, who Killian had never seen as anything but his means for food and materials, suddenly felt more to him like a friend than he’d ever experienced before. 

With a shy little blush, Smee adds, “You’ve had a lot of visitors.”

Killian looked to the newspaper again, finding the image of Emma holding Henry close to her chest. He desperately needs to get to her.

Smee must notice his attention is strained, because he reaches for the paper. “Why don’t you lie down? I can get a doctor to check on you.”

“I need to get to Emma.”

“You will.” Smee promises. “Just as soon as you’re well enough to leave the hospital.”

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany being self-critical or at least self-aware

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

I listed the passages back to front because I felt doing so highlighted Dany's evolution better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

[I]f you are the person who has freed countless souls from chains -- when all those people never imagined freedom was a possibility -- you would feel you know better than everyone else what is best for them. (The Take)

~

And for Dany, the whole concept of "breaking the wheel" was always just about her taking more power so that she could dispense what she believed to be justice. It's a truly terrifying megalomania and one that I think she's had all along, we just didn't always see it. (x)

~

She wants to rule with love, not fear.

It doesn’t always go that way for her. And when it doesn’t — when the people she would rule don’t adore her — she tends to react fiercely. (x)

~

But Dany’s arc is not contrived or “coming out of nowhere” or “out of character”. This is precisely the character that she has shown herself to be from as far back as season two. She has made selfish and rash decisions one after another. She has failed to recognize the larger picture and the true needs of the people around her more times than can be chalked up to “youthful” mistakes. The seeds have been laid, the decisions have been made, and her thoughtlessness towards others and zeal for her own destiny have distorted her intentions. (x)

~

Dany’s true downfall is one of ego, impulse control and rage – and that is a human story, not a gendered story. She has become obsessed with destiny. It seems she doesn’t even have one except in helping set up others, more deserving, to lead. This certainly shows the folly of ego, presumption and dominion without listening and learning. (x)

~

She always has had a tyrant in the making kind of vibe. In addition to mass genocide, what do tyrants have in common? They all have a big ego, which needs to be massaged every now and then. Noticed how often Danny [sic] tells the story about the time she broke the chains and slaves rose up against their masters? It’s the narcissist in her, who not only loved it when people took her name as she passed through the crowd in Meereen after murdering the masters, but continues to tell that story to boost her own ego. (x)

Does Dany "[feels] [she] know[s] better than everyone else what is best for them"? Does Dany have a "truly terrifying megalomania"? Does Dany tend to "react fiercely" "when the people she would rule don’t adore her"? Are Dany's decisions "selfish and rash" in nature? Does Dany have problems with "ego, impulse control, rage, presumption and dominion without listening and learning"? Is Dany a "tyrant in the making" with a "narcissist in her" whose ego "needs to be massaged every now and then"?

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but the show can be all over the place and ... I digress), so take a look at these passages.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

Her tokar and veils she had abandoned in the pit, and her linen undertunic had never been made to withstand the hot days and cold nights of the Dothraki sea. Sweat and grass and dirt had stained it, and Dany had torn a strip off the hem to make a bandage for her shin. I must look a ragged thing, and starved, she thought, but if the days stay warm, I will not freeze.

~

Dany did not need a glass to know that she was filthy.

~

Once I dreamed of flying, she thought, and now I’ve flown, and dream of stealing eggs. That made her laugh. “Men are mad and gods are madder,” she told the grass, and the grass murmured its agreement.

~

If I stay here, I will die. I may be dying now. Would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands with Khal Drogo? In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here? My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.

~

You took Meereen, he told her, yet still you lingered. “To be a queen.”

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. “It is such a long way,” she complained. “I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl.”

~

Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario ...

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.

ADWD Daenerys IX

Soon Dany was as clean as she was ever going to be.

~

How queer, the queen thought. They cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters.

~

The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

~

“I suppose I must be thankful for small victories,” the queen said.

“One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen.” The street ahead had finally cleared. “Shall we continue on?”

What could she do but nod? One step, then the next, but where is it I’m going?

~

Her lord husband stood and raised his hands. “Great Masters! My queen has come this day, to show her love for you, her people. By her grace and with her leave, I give you now your mortal art. Meereen! Let Queen Daenerys hear your love!”

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. “Mother!” they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, “Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa,” until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted, back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts. Behind her, Reznak leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Magnificence, hear how they love you!”

No, she knew, they love their mortal art.

~

Pale Qartheen, black Summer Islanders, copper-skinned Dothraki, Tyroshi with blue beards, Lamb Men, Jogos Nhai, sullen Braavosi, brindle-skinned half-men from the jungles of Sothoros—from the ends of the world they came to die in Daznak’s Pit.

~

“Magnificence, the people of Meereen have come to celebrate our union. You heard them cheering you. Do not cast away their love.”

“It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband.”

~

In Westeros the septons spoke of seven hells and seven heavens, but the Seven Kingdoms and their gods were far away. If she died here, Dany wondered, would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands beside her sun-and-stars? Or would the angry gods of Ghis send their harpies to seize her soul and drag her down to torment?

[...] In the smoldering red pits of Drogon’s eyes, Dany saw her own reflection. How small she looked, how weak and frail and scared. I cannot let him see my fear.

ADWD Daenerys VIII

No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost.

~

You saw me as defeated, Dany thought, and who am I to say that you were wrong?

“...Never trust a sellsword.”

Or a queen, thought Dany.

~

“The dragon has three heads,” Dany said when they were on the final flight. “My marriage need not be the end of all your hopes. I know why you are here.”

“For you,” said Quentyn, all awkward gallantry.

“No,” said Dany. “For fire and blood.”

~

Her voice echoed off the scorched stone walls. It sounded small—a girl’s voice, not the voice of a queen and conqueror, nor the glad voice of a new-made bride.

~

She could hear the dragons screaming as she led the boy back to the door, and see the play of light against the bricks, reflections of their fires. If I look back, I am lost.

~

I should never have taken him into my bed. He was only a sellsword, no fit consort for a queen, and yet …

I knew that all along, but I did it anyway.

“My queen?” said a soft voice in the darkness.

Dany flinched. “Who is there?”

“Only Missandei.” The Naathi scribe moved closer to the bed. “This one heard you crying.”

ADWD Daenerys VII

Meereenese seldom rode within their city walls. They preferred palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs, borne upon the shoulders of their slaves. “Horses befoul the streets,” one man of Zakh had told her, “slaves do not.” Dany had freed the slaves, yet palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs still choked the streets as before, and none of them floated magically through the air.

ADWD Daenerys VI

Their eyes followed her. Those who had the strength called out. “Mother … please, Mother … bless you, Mother …”

Bless me, Dany thought bitterly. Your city is gone to ash and bone, your people are dying all around you. I have no shelter for you, no medicine, no hope. Only stale bread and wormy meat, hard cheese, a little milk. Bless me, bless me.

What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children?

~

Dany gazed across the camp, to the many-colored brick walls of Meereen. The air was thick with flies and cries. “The gods have sent this pestilence to humble me.[”]

ADWD Daenerys V

The weaver raised her head. “Every day we told each other that the dragon queen was coming back.” The woman had thin lips and dull dead eyes, set in a pinched and narrow face. “Cleon had sent for you, it was said, and you were coming.”

He sent for me, thought Dany. That much is true, at least.

~

“Others blamed Daenerys,” said the weaver, “but more of us still loved you. ‘She is on her way,’ we said to one another. ‘She is coming at the head of a great host, with food for all.’”

I can scarce feed my own folk. If I had marched to Astapor, I would have lost Meereen.

~

“Even then some said that you were coming,” said the weaver. “They swore they had seen you mounted on a dragon, flying high above the camps of the Yunkai’i. Every day we looked for you.”

I could not come, the queen thought. I dare not.

~

“It is good that you have come,” she told the Astapori. “You will be safe in Meereen.”

The cobbler thanked her for that, and the old brickmaker kissed her foot, but the weaver looked at her with eyes as hard as slate. She knows I lie, the queen thought. She knows I cannot keep them safe. Astapor is burning, and Meereen is next.

~

You warned King Cleon against this war with Yunkai. The man was a fool, and his hands were red with blood.”

And are my hands any cleaner? She remembered what Daario had said—that all kings must be butchers, or meat.

~

“Cleon was the enemy of our enemy. If I had joined him at the Horns of Hazzat, we might have crushed the Yunkai’i between us.”

The Shavepate disagreed. “If you had taken the Unsullied south to Hazzat, the Sons of the Harpy—”

“I know. I know. It is Eroeh all over again.”

Brown Ben Plumm was puzzled. “Who is Eroeh?”

“A girl I thought I’d saved from rape and torment. All I did was make it worse for her in the end. And all I did in Astapor was make ten thousand Eroehs.”

“Your Grace could not have known—”

“I am the queen. It was my place to know.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

“Then heed me now and marry.”

[...] “Tell me, can this king puff his cheeks up and blow Xaro’s galleys back to Qarth? Can he clap his hands and break the siege of Astapor? Can he put food in the bellies of my children and bring peace back to my streets?”

~

“...In him the prophecies shall be fulfilled, and your enemies will melt away like snow."

He shall be the stallion that mounts the world. Dany knew how it went with prophecies. They were made of words, and words were wind.

~

“Why would you want to help me? For the crown?”

~

“...The Seven Kingdoms will never accept Hizdahr zo Loraq as king.”

“No more than Meereen will accept Daenerys Targaryen as queen. The Green Grace has the right of that. I need a king beside me, a king of old Ghiscari blood. Elsewise they will always see me as the uncouth barbarian who smashed through their gates, impaled their kin on spikes, and stole their wealth.”

~

“Bright queen,” he said, “you have grown more beautiful in my absence. How is this thing possible?”

The queen was accustomed to such praise, yet somehow the compliment meant more coming from Daario than from the likes of Reznak, Xaro, or Hizdahr.

~

What have I done? she thought, huddled in her empty bed. I have waited so long for him to come back, and I send him away. “He would make a monster of me,” she whispered, “a butcher queen.” But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

ADWD Daenerys III

“I want no slave. I free you.” His jeweled nose made a tempting target. This time Dany threw an apricot at him.

Xaro caught it in the air and took a bite. “Whence came this madness? Should I count myself fortunate that you did not free my own slaves when you were my guest in Qarth?”

I was a beggar queen and you were Xaro of the Thirteen, Dany thought, and all you wanted were my dragons. “Your slaves seemed well treated and content. It was not till Astapor that my eyes were opened. Do you know how Unsullied are made and trained?”

~

“Meereen is a free city of free men.”

“A poor city that once was rich. A hungry city that once was fat. A bloody city that once was peaceful.”

His accusations stung. There was too much truth in them. “Meereen will be rich and fat and peaceful once again, and free as well. Go to the Dothraki if you must have slaves.”

~

Groleo had been a most unhappy man since they had broken up his ship to build the siege engines that won Meereen for her. Dany had tried to console him by naming him her lord admiral, but it was a hollow honor; the Meereenese fleet had sailed for Yunkai when Dany’s host approached the city, so the old Pentoshi was an admiral without ships.

~

Ser Barristan went to one knee before her. “My queen, your realm has need of you. You are not wanted here, but in Westeros men will flock to your banners by the thousands, great lords and noble knights. ‘She is come,’ they will shout to one another, in glad voices. ‘Prince Rhaegar’s sister has come home at last.’”

“If they love me so much, they will wait for me.” Dany stood. “Reznak, summon Xaro Xhoan Daxos.”

ADWD Daenerys II

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. “I was praying,” she told the Naathi girl. “It will be light soon. I had best eat something, before court.”

~

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman’s pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

~

All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …” The word caught in her throat. Hazzea, she thought, and suddenly she heard herself say, “I have to see the pit,” in a voice as small as a child’s whisper. “Take me down, ser, if you would.”

~

What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

~

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

ADWD Daenerys I

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dressed up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father’s household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father’s house, and the other had joined the queen’s soldiers as one of the Mother’s Men. He wanted them both hanged.

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters.

When she told him, the boy rushed at her, but his feet tangled in his tokar and he went sprawling headlong on the purple marble. [...]“Enough, Belwas,” Dany called. [...] But as he left the boy looked back over his shoulder, and when she saw his eyes Dany thought, The Harpy has another Son.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

When she was dressed, Missandei brought her a polished silver glass so she could see how she looked. Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl.

~

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. When word of what had befallen Astapor reached the streets, as it surely would, tens of thousands of newly freed Meereenese slaves would doubtless decide to follow her when she went west, for fear of what awaited them if they stayed ... yet it might well be that worse would await them on the march. Even if she emptied every granary in the city and left Meereen to starve, how could she feed so many? The way before her was fraught with hardship, bloodshed, and danger. Ser Jorah had warned her of that. He’d warned her of so many things ... he’d ... No, I will not think of Jorah Mormont. Let him keep a little longer.

~

“The city bleeds. Dead men rot unburied in the streets, each pyramid is an armed camp, and the markets have neither food nor slaves for sale. And the poor children! King Cleaver’s thugs have seized every highborn boy in Astapor to make new Unsullied for the trade, though it will be years before they are trained.”

The thing that surprised Dany most was how unsurprised she was. She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought. The slaves from the fighting pits, bred and trained to slaughter, were already proving themselves unruly and quarrelsome. They seemed to think they owned the city now, and every man and woman in it. Two of them had been among the eight she’d hanged. There is no more I can do, she told herself.

~

“I will admit you helped win me this city ...”

Ser Jorah’s mouth tightened. “We won you this city. We sewer rats.”

“Be quiet,” she said again ... though there was truth to what he said.

~

“Bring me the book I was reading last night.” She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children’s stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

~

But Daario is right, I shouldn’t have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.

~

That night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest?

~

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.”

“But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo.

“Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

ASOS Daenerys V

Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso’s Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio’s ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought.

~

Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead ...

~

“Your Grace.” Arstan knelt. “I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.”

“No more than I did.”

ASOS Daenerys III

Arstan Whitebeard held his tongue as well, when Dany swept by him on the terrace. He followed her down the steps in silence, but she could hear his hardwood staff tap tapping on the red bricks as they went. She did not blame him for his fury. It was a wretched thing she did. The Mother of Dragons has sold her strongest child. Even the thought made her ill.

~

Dany fed her dragons as she always did, but found she had no appetite herself. She cried awhile, alone in her cabin, then dried her tears long enough for yet another argument with Groleo.

[...] The anger burned the grief and fear from her, for a few hours at the least.

~

If I look back I am lost, Dany told herself the next morning as she entered Astapor through the harbor gates. She dared not remind herself how small and insignificant her following truly was, or she would lose all courage.

~

Dany mounted her silver. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She felt desperately afraid. Was this what my brother would have done?

ASOS Daenerys II

“Yet I must have some army,” Dany said. “The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.”

“When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,” Whitebeard promised. “Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.”

“And my father?” Dany said.

The old man hesitated before saying, “King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace. Your Grace, you have no need of slaves. Magister Illyrio can keep you safe while your dragons grow, and send secret envoys across the narrow sea on your behalf, to sound out the high lords for your cause.”

“Those same high lords who abandoned my father to the Kingslayer and bent the knee to Robert the Usurper?”

“Even those who bent their knees may yearn in their hearts for the return of the dragons.”

“May,” said Dany. That was such a slippery word, may. In any language.

~

[“]So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?”

“You have a dragon’s eye, Khaleesi, that’s plain to see.”

“I wanted an answer, not a compliment.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

Jhiqui had braided her hair Dothraki-fashion, and fastened a silver bell to the end of the braid. “I have won no victories,” she tried telling her handmaid when the bell tinkled softly.

Jhiqui disagreed. “You burned the maegi in their house of dust and sent their souls to hell.”

That was Drogon’s victory, not mine, Dany wanted to say, but she held her tongue. The Dothraki would esteem her all the more for a few bells in her hair.

~

Pale men in dusty linen skirts stood beneath arched doorways to watch them pass. They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

~

It was not by choice that she sought the waterfront. She was fleeing again. Her whole life had been one long flight, it seemed. She had begun running in her mother’s womb, and never once stopped. How often had she and Viserys stolen away in the black of night, a bare step ahead of the Usurper’s hired knives? But it was run or die. Xaro had learned that Pyat Pree was gathering the surviving warlocks together to work ill on her.

~

“...Give me a son, my sweet song of joy!”

Give you a dragon, you mean. “I will not wed you, Xaro.” His face had grown cold at that. “Then go.”

“But where?”

“Somewhere far from here.”

~

Dany would get no help from the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, or the Ancient Guild of Spicers.

~

Sailors, dockworkers, and merchants alike gave way before her, not knowing what to make of this slim young girl with silver-gold hair who dressed in the Dothraki fashion and walked with a knight at her side.

~

“Sheath your steel, blood of my blood,” said Dany, “this man comes to serve me. Belwas, you will accord all respect to my people, or you will leave my service sooner than you’d wish, and with more scars than when you came.”

The gap-toothed smile faded from the giant’s broad brown face, replaced by a confused scowl. Men did not often threaten Belwas, it would seem, and less so girls a third his size.

ACOK Daenerys IV

Her voice was no more than a whisper, almost as faint as theirs.

ACOK Daenerys III

The drapes kept out the dust and heat of the streets, but they could not keep out disappointment. Dany climbed inside wearily, glad for the refuge from the sea of Qartheen eyes.

~

“I see a deep sadness written upon your face, my light of love.” He offered her a goblet. “Could it be the sadness of a lost dream?”

“A dream delayed, no more.” [...] The Pureborn were notorious for offering poisoned wine to those they thought dangerous, but they had not given Dany so much as a cup of water. They never saw me for a queen, she thought bitterly. I was only an afternoon’s amusement, a horse girl with a curious pet.

~

Yet the men who sat in them seemed so listless and world-weary that they might have been asleep. They listened, but they did not hear, or care, she thought. They are Milk Men indeed. They never meant to help me. They came because they were curious. They came because they were bored, and the dragon on my shoulder interested them more than I did.

“Tell me the words of the Pureborn,” prompted Xaro Xhoan Daxos. “Tell me what they said to sadden the queen of my heart.”

“They said no.” The wine tasted of pomegranates and hot summer days. “They said it with great courtesy, to be sure, but under all the lovely words, it was still no.”

“Did you flatter them?”

“Shamelessly.”

“Did you weep?”

“The blood of the dragon does not weep,” she said testily.

Xaro sighed. “You ought to have wept.” The Qartheen wept often and easily; it was considered a mark of the civilized man. “The men we bought, what did they say?”

“Mathos said nothing. Wendello praised the way I spoke. The Exquisite refused me with the rest, but he wept afterward.”

“Alas, that Qartheen should be so faithless.” Xaro was not himself of the Pureborn, but he had told her whom to bribe and how much to offer. “Weep, weep, for the treachery of men.”

Dany would sooner have wept for her gold. The bribes she’d tendered to Mathos Mallarawan, Wendello Qar Deeth, and Egon Emeros the Exquisite might have bought her a ship, or hired a score of sellswords.

~

The crown was the only offering she’d kept. The rest she sold, to gather the wealth she had wasted on the Pureborn. Xaro would have sold the crown too—the Thirteen would see that she had a much finer one, he swore—but Dany forbade it. “Viserys sold my mother’s crown, and men called him a beggar. I shall keep this one, so men will call me a queen.” And so she did, though the weight of it made her neck ache.

Yet even crowned, I am a beggar still, Dany thought. I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same. She hated it, as her brother must have. All those years of running from city to city one step ahead of the Usurper’s knives, pleading for help from archons and princes and magisters, buying our food with flattery. He must have known how they mocked him. Small wonder he turned so angry and bitter. In the end it had driven him mad. It will do the same to me if I let it. Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat. I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.

~

“The Arbor makes the best wine in the world,” Dany declared. Lord Redwyne had fought for her father against the Usurper, she remembered, one of the few to remain true to the last. Will he fight for me as well? There was no way to be certain after so many years.

~

“I mean to sail to Westeros, and drink the wine of vengeance from the skull of the Usurper.”

[...] “Will nothing turn you from this madness?”

“Nothing,” she said, wishing she was as certain as she sounded.

~

Even so, it would be years before they were large enough to take to war. And they must be trained as well, or they will lay my kingdom waste. For all her Targaryen blood, Dany had not the least idea of how to train a dragon.

ACOK Daenerys II

Dany felt shabby and barbaric as she rode past them in her lionskin robe with black Drogon on one shoulder. Her Dothraki called the Qartheen “Milk Men” for their paleness, and Khal Drogo had dreamed of the day when he might sack the great cities of the east. She glanced at her bloodriders, their dark almond-shaped eyes giving no hint of their thoughts. Is it only the plunder they see? she wondered. How savage we must seem to these Qartheen.

~

“...The Thirteen will come to do you homage, and all the great of Qarth.”

All the great of Qarth will come to see my dragons, Dany thought, yet she thanked Xaro for his kindness before she sent him on his way.

~

The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise, Mormont had said. Robert had slain her gallant brother Rhaegar, and one of his creatures had crossed the Dothraki sea to poison her and her unborn son. They said Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. And with him stood the great lords her brother had named the Usurper’s dogs, cold-eyed Eddard Stark with his frozen heart, and the golden Lannisters, father and son, so rich, so powerful, so treacherous.

How could she hope to overthrow such men? When Khal Drogo had lived, men trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their cities, wealth and wives and all. But his khalasar had been vast, while hers was meager. Her people had followed her across the red waste as she chased her comet, and would follow her across the poison water too, but they would not be enough. Even her dragons might not be enough. Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king ... but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.

Her doubts made her shiver.

~

“The high lords have always fought. Tell me who’s won and I’ll tell you what it means. Khaleesi, the Seven Kingdoms are not going to fall into your hands like so many ripe peaches. You will need a fleet, gold, armies, alliances—”

“All this I know.” She took his hands in hers and looked up into his dark suspicious eyes.

Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed, but does he ever truly see me as his queen?

ACOK Daenerys I

“...Ten thousand warriors went with him. You have a hundred.”

No, Dany thought. I have four. The rest are women, old sick men and boys whose hair has never been braided.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

She could feel the eyes of the khalasar on her as she entered her tent. The Dothraki were muttering and giving her strange sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

Trembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany turned away from them. He fell from his horse! It was so, she had seen it, and the bloodriders, and no doubt her handmaids and the men of her khas as well. And how many more? They could not keep it secret, and Dany knew what that meant. A khal who could not ride could not rule, and Drogo had fallen from his horse.

“We must bathe him,” she said stubbornly. She must not allow herself to despair.

~

“I will not leave him,” she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. “I will not.”

~

“That one means you no good, Princess,” Mormont said. “The Dothraki say a man and his bloodriders share one life, and Qotho sees it ending. A dead man is beyond fear.”

“No one has died,” Dany said. “Ser Jorah, I may have need of your blade. Best go don your armor.” She was more frightened than she dared admit, even to herself.

AGOT Daenerys VI

Dany was near tears as they carried her back. The taste in her mouth was one she had known before: fear. For years she had lived in terror of Viserys, afraid of waking the dragon. This was even worse. It was not just for herself that she feared now, but for her baby. He must have sensed her fright, for he moved restlessly inside her. Dany stroked the swell of her belly gently, wishing she could reach him, touch him, soothe him.

AGOT Daenerys IV

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

AGOT Daenerys III

“Hit her, Mormont. Hurt her. Your king commands it. Kill these Dothraki dogs and teach her.”

The exile knight looked from Dany to her brother; she barefoot, with dirt between her toes and oil in her hair, he with his silks and steel. Dany could see the decision on his face. “He shall walk, Khaleesi,” he said.

~

“Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.

~

Her supper was a simple meal of fruit and cheese and fry bread, with a jug of honeyed wine to wash it down. “Doreah, stay and eat with me,” Dany commanded when she sent her other handmaids away. The Lysene girl had hair the color of honey, and eyes like the summer sky. She lowered those eyes when they were alone. “You honor me, Khaleesi,” she said, but it was no honor, only service. Long after the moon had risen, they sat together, talking.

AGOT Daenerys II

There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.

~

“What should I do?” she asked Illyrio.

It was Ser Jorah Mormont who answered. “Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.”

Nervously Dany gathered the reins in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees.

And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.

AGOT Daenerys I

Her brother held the gown up for her inspection. “This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”

Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is it really mine?”

“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. “The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.

“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.”

Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend he wouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”

~

Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”

And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. [...]

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.

~

Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

“Now you look all a princess,” the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced at her image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, she thought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaves wore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms.

~

Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio’s pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes.

Her brother, sprawled out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across the narrow sea. “We won’t need his whole khalasar,” Viserys said. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. “Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us. They cry out for their king.” He looked at Illyrio anxiously. “They do, don’t they?”

“They are your people, and they love you well,” Magister Illyrio said amiably. “In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water.” He gave a massive shrug. “Or so my agents tell me.”

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio’s sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. “I shall kill the Usurper myself,” he promised, who had never killed anyone, “as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father.”

“That would be most fitting,” Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playing around his full lips, but her brother did not notice. Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared off into the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again.

~

Magister Illyrio’s words were honey. “Many important men will be at the feast tonight. Such men have enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubt the Usurper would pay well for your head.”

“Oh, yes,” Viserys said darkly. “He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives follow us everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live.”

The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help Daenerys out. His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze. 

[idkxwriting]

Treacherous - Chapter Twelve

Author: idkhaylijah

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: none...you guys know what you’re in for if you’ve made it this far ;)

A/N: Thank you guys for your patience. It’s been a rough few months year tbh. I appreciate all the comments and messages, it keeps me going. Special shout out to @thatfanficstuff for telling me the best way through a block is to just keep writing, @dendrite-lover for reading ahead of time and the Sherlock account on ao3 that spammed me with comments and totally encouraged me to continue with her kind words! We’re coming to the end guys!

It was strange, being back home. She had left Mystic Falls behind her, never looking back, and here it was, staring her in the face. She gave a soft smile at the creak on the third step, leading up to the familiar porch. Her porch.

She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Elijah’s car disappeared down the road. He had offered to come inside, insisted, even, but she was adamant about needing to be alone. As persistent as he had been, she was twice as stubborn. He reluctantly agreed, under the condition that she’d be at the Salvatore Boarding House within the hour.

Having him in her home, their home, would be more than she could handle.

Even so, as she moved quietly into the house, she saw that his ghost was everywhere.

She sighed, and dropped her duffle bag on the couch as she made her way into the kitchen. It was strange, she thought, the way the familiar scent of home filled her senses as if the house hadn’t sat a vacant shell for years.

Stefan, she reasoned. She felt a sadness settle into her at the thought of her best friend caring for her home long after she had stopped coming back, in the hopes that one day she may return after all.

“Beautiful home,” a voice startled her.

She turned, her eyes narrowed and a feeling crawling up her spine that always accompanied the sudden unwelcome appearance of the King of Hell. “Crowley. What are you doing here?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“I’ve got to admit, I never pictured you with the white picket fence, but it suits you,” he ran his hand along the kitchen island, glancing around the room. He made his way to the fridge, plucking at photos with feigned curiosity. “Ahh, the vampire boyfriend,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, pulling the photostrip from its magnet. “Personally, I’m Team Squirrel.”

“What do you want?” She snapped, ripping the photos from his hand and placing them back.

“Oh come now, Birdy, can’t I visit a friend?”

She sighed at his nickname for her. “We’re not friends. Even if we were, there’s always strings with you…”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re always so quick to point that out, but it pays to have friends in high places, Birdy.”

“More like low places,” she retorted.

He smiled devilishly at her, turning his attention back to the pictures on the fridge. “I understand you need a certain blade. One I’d be happy to procure for you.”

“What do you know about the blade?” She asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

He opened the fridge, rifling through ingredients with disappointment. “I know you need it to kill Empusa.”

“And you just happen to have it?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and moved from the fridge to the cabinets, opening and closing doors until he found what he was looking for. He picked up bottle after bottle, reading the labels with vague disinterest. “I’ve always preferred Glencraig myself,” he mumbled, placing a bottle of bourbon she recalled swiping from Damon’s personal stash back down.

“Why would you offer me the knife?” She asked skeptically. “What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged, straightening out to look at her. “You need the knife, I need Empusa dead, it’s that simple.” When she didn’t reply, he sighed. “Empusa is bad news for everyone, Hell included.”

“Hell or you?”

“The situation in Hell is...delicate. I don’t need Empusa roaming free, building an army…”

“Challenging your seat on the throne?”

“Regardless of my own selfish reasons, it doesn’t change your position, love. You need the knife.”

She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed as she studied the demon before her. She didn’t trust him, she never had, but she needed him. Still, she knew him and even with selfish motives, it wouldn’t come without a price. “What’s the trade?”

He poured himself a glass of bourbon, scoffing at the label internally, but it would do. “I get you the blade, and you do your part.”

She nodded, the fear gripping her chest again. She knew what she needed to do, but knowing and doing were two different things. “You know, then…that I have to die in order to release the soul stone?”

“I know,” he nodded grimly, and she wondered (not for the first time) if the demon was capable of genuine emotion. “So do we have a deal?”

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “We have a deal,” she whispered.

Crowley smirked. “Well then,” he pulled a knife from the inside of his jacket, holding the handle out towards her. She gripped it, but he held onto it. “You understand how a certain Moose and Squirrel may make this more difficult?”

“I know what I have to do, Crowley. Give me the blade, and I’ll get it done. Sam and Dean don’t have to know the details, only that I’m the one that needs to use it,” she said, trying to pull the blade from him once more.

He continued to keep a sturdy grip, tugging her towards him. “And what of your vampire boyfriend?”

“Elijah won’t be a problem.”

“Just do your part, Birdy.” He said and released the blade.

She stared down at the seemingly ordinary knife in her hand. As the metal warmed in her palm she felt the magic that rested within the blade - within her. She glanced up to find Crowley had disappeared once more, leaving her to contemplate her life.

And death.

She knew what she had to do - that the only way to stop Empusa and save her friends was to sacrifice her own life. And she would do it, gladly, but --

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice interrupted her, staving off the rising panic in her chest.

She placed the knife in the back of her pants, tucking it away carefully before rubbing at her eyes. “Hey,” she smiled sadly.

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh come on, you didn’t expect me to sit this one out, did you?”

Sam chuckled softly at that. “No, I guess not…”

“Alright, Sammy, Cas is headed back with Freya. They want us to head over to the Salvatore’s in…..” Dean stopped, caught off guard by the woman before him. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s eyes locked with Dean’s, and she wondered what kind of life they may have had if she didn’t have to die. If he hadn’t been a hunter, and she hadn��t loved a vampire. If maybe they had just been normal.

Sam looked between the two, shifting uncomfortably. “Umm, I’m just going to...be somewhere else…” he said awkwardly before making his way past Dean and back out the front door.

The door shut, the noise bringing them both back to the present. Dean cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” He asked again gruffly.

She breathed a laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Oh you know, just the usual end of the world stuff…”

His green eyes snapped to hers, and she knew he was angry. “I thought Sam told you to stay away from Mystic Falls until we had a plan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dean, I’ll be fine. In fact, a few days ago you had no objection to me coming with you. Besides, I couldn’t leave you two and the Salvatores to come up with a decent plan all by yourselves. You need me,” she teased.

Dean moved toward her until she was just out of reach, his eyes locked on hers. He inhaled deeply - as if he hadn’t been able to breathe since he left her in that motel room, and suddenly he was coming up for air. When he released it, he broke eye contact, fixing his stare on the floor. “Yea, I do,” his voice was heavy, but his breath was shaky and he cleared his throat. “We need you,” he corrected, meeting her gaze once more, knowing she saw right through him. She always had.

“Dean....” she breathed. He didn’t need her. He couldn’t need her, because she had to leave him. She had to leave all of them. The realization of what she had to do hit her suddenly. She wasn’t afraid of death, she knew it would come for her eventually and probably sooner than most. But the thought of leaving everyone behind, of losing them all, was crushing. It stole the air from her lungs and the weight of it all was suddenly too much.

He stepped into her, his hand on her cheek grounding her.

“Damon called. They’re waiting on us,” Sam interrupted from the front door.

Dean dropped his hand suddenly, putting some distance between them, and Y/N nodded, shoving the thought of leaving Dean, leaving Elijah and Sam...Cas...everyone. She took a breath, focusing on the task at hand. “God forbid we make Damon wait,” she sighed, side stepping Dean and following Sam out the front door.

*****

Arriving at the Salvatore Boarding House felt like stepping back in time, into a life she hadn’t known for ages, and Y/N found she had missed it more than she could have imagined.

She was greeted by Damon, first, who had kindly reminded her just how stupid it had been to come back. The raven haired man scowled at her, but she knew he was happy to see her when he wrapped his arms around her anyway, tucking her into his side. “If you disappear like that again, Buffy, I’ll kill you myself,” he whispered into her hair. “Welcome home.”

He stepped aside and gave Sam and Dean a once over, not entirely pleased with their presence, before turning his attention to the figure approaching from the end of the driveway. “How was Bambi today, Stefan?” Damon teased, referring to the feeding trip his brother had just gotten back from.

Stefan ignored him, his eyes locked on Y/N, his face brooding, and she wondered just how angry he was with her. Her cheeks flushed as the guilt crept up once more, knowing her best friend had deserved more than a disappearing act without a trace.

It seemed Elijah wasn’t the only one she had hurt.

She bit her lip, and when he broke out into a soft smile, she grinned, running to him at full speed and launching herself into his arms. He caught her with ease, hugging her tightly.

Dean watched the interaction with curiosity - the annoying, jealous pang that seemed to have taken up residence in his chest growing sharper.

“Don’t worry,” Damon startled him, appearing suddenly by his side. “Stefan’s like a big brother to her.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Dean scoffed.

“I’m just saying. There was never anything more than friendship there,” he watched them for a moment. “Which is weird, because we almost always end up sleeping with the same women. I guess she only wanted to sample one Salvatore brother,” he smirked, slapping Dean on the back roughly.

Dean coughed and glared after the vampire as he walked away, muttering under his breath. He made his way into the house. He couldn’t wait to get back to the bunker and his normal routine, where the only vampires he came across he staked.

*****

Y/N cleared her throat, sinking deeper into the plush sofa. Elijah and Dean both stood in front of her, making her feel like a small child.

Dean’s arms were crossed, and she could see even in the dim room that he was fuming, his hard stare fixed on her.

Elijah, on the other hand, was more controlled. His hands were in his pocket while he glanced around the room with feigned interest. This scared her more than Dean’s open anger. A cool, calm, and collected Elijah was simply waiting for his moment. She had seen it dozens of times, though admittedly not usually directed at her, and it often ended with him tearing out someone’s heart.

She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and focused on the intricate patterns in the persian carpet beneath her feet. They sat in the Great Room, a collection of the Salvatore's history filling the space. Mementos of the multiple lifetimes Stefan and Damon had lived.

Damon sipped from his glass of bourbon, seemingly less concerned than the two men standing before her. “So she hears voices or whatever. Big deal. We use it to our advantage,” Damon shrugged. “Y/N knows Empusa’s move before she makes it. It gives us the upper hand. We draw her out, stab her with the fancy knife the devil gave her, and we’re home by dinner..”

“Crowley is not Lucifer,” Cas corrected. “Crowley’s the King of Hell, a demon.”

Dean shot him an angry glare, effectively shutting him up. “A demon who doesn’t give anything for free. What was the deal, Y/N?”

She shrugged. “Empusa is bad news for all of us, Hell included. Crowley needs her gone.”

Cas watched her for a moment, eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut, and Y/N was grateful.

“There’s always a catch with Crowley,” Sam said quietly.

“Who cares?” Damon shouted, exasperated. “She has the knife, we can end this.”

“Damon,” Stefan warned.

His brother rolled his eyes, pouring himself another drink.

“Damon’s right,” Freya said quietly. “Castiel and I dug up everything we could find on Empusa, and this is the only way.”

“Thank you,” he smiled smugly, giving Freya an appreciative once over.

Sam furrowed his brow. “How are we going to draw Empusa out?”

Stefan sighed, stepping forward. “Empusa wants Y/N. So we give her what she wants…”

Dean shook his head. “Hell no!” He argued. “We can’t just hand her over like that. It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t like it either, Dean,” Stefan said. “But it’s our best shot. If she thinks she has a shot at taking Y/N she’ll come, and we will protect her.”

“You’ll have an army of supernatural creatures looking for blood. Y/N’s blood…” Sam added.

“Good thing you're hunters,” Damon remarked. “Make yourselves useful.”

Freya glanced at her brother sympathetically. He remained silent, but she knew him well enough to know just how worried he was. “We can keep her safe, Elijah.”

His body tensed, and Y/N could see the look he shared with his sister, the fear in his eyes. How was he supposed to protect her from something he couldn’t protect himself from?

Before he could speak, Y/N stood. “Stop talking like I’m not here. It’s my call, and this is our best shot to put Empusa down. It’s happening,” she said definitively before storming out, leaving the rest of the group to work out the details.

***** Stefan found her sometime later out back, sitting and watching the stars. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey.” Y/N patted the ground next to her, and he tossed a blanket he had brought from inside onto her shoulders before joining her.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “So...you and Caroline, huh?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “We’re friends…”

She nudged his shoulder playfully. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

He sighed. “Don’t believe everything Damon tells you,” he countered.

“So you don’t care that she’s off somewhere with Klaus right now?”

His shoulders slumped at that and he pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them. “Caroline sees the good in people, and I love that about her.”

She waited for a moment, but he was silent. “But?” She pried.

“But that means she sees the good in Klaus, too, and…”

“She’ll come back to you, Stefan. Trust me.”

He nodded quietly. “So this Dean guy, huh?” He asked after a moment, turning it around on her.

She let out an exasperated sigh and pulled the throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I’ve made such a mess out of things.”

And so she told him. All of it. The visions, the nightmares of becoming a ripper, needing to let go of Elijah, holding onto Dean…

“I slept with Elijah,” she finally confessed after some time. “This morning, on the way here…”

Stefan looked at her, his mouth hanging open as if at a loss for words. He had the courtesy to bite back his judgement, which she appreciated, but she knew she deserved it.

“Go ahead,” she sighed. “Tell me how horrible I am.”

He shook his head. “No, Y/N…” she followed his line of sight, turning over her shoulder.

“Dean,” she breathed, slamming her eyes shut. God, she thought. This was not how she wanted him to find out.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably for a second before squaring his shoulders. “Cas sent me out to find you, he had a few questions about the knife…”

Stefan stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I should give you guys a minute,” he started.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, shaking his head. His green eyes locked on Y/N’s, burning into her with fury. “We got nothing to talk about.”

“Dean wait,” she called after him. If he heard her, he didn’t respond, keeping his head forward as he made his way back up to the house. Y/N felt the pain immediately at once again hurting Dean, and she realized as he walked away just how much she needed him.

She turned toward Stefan, tears burning in her eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered pulling her in for a hug. “You just need to talk to him.”

His grip on her tightened, and she began to cry freely, burying her face in his chest. She didn’t know just how much she had missed her best friend until that moment, and the thought of leaving them all behind rushed to the surface. She wouldn’t just lose Dean and Elijah. It was saying goodbye to Stefan, and Sam. Cas, Damon, Freya, Caroline and even Klaus...the list was too long to even wrap her mind around it. She’d lose her friends, her family. The thought was crippling.

She was grateful in that moment for Stefan, for his unwavering strength. She knew he beat himself up constantly for being weak, for wanting blood, but he didn’t give himself enough credit, because he was always her strength.

Not returning his calls was one thing - Stefan was patient, she knew deep down that he was okay because he had a lifetime to find her again.

But dying? She wondered if he’d be strong enough. If she could do that to him.

She pulled air into her lungs, holding onto it for a moment, before exhaling shakily. She knew what she had to do, and she would do it, come hell or high water.

She pulled back from him, wiping at her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, Stefan, I’m sorry. I owed you more than silence, I shouldn’t have disappeared like that.”

He smiled sadly at her, and she knew he was hiding the pain he had felt when she left them without a word. “Y/N, being a vampire - it’s difficult. Everyday is a battle to fight off the craving. We feel everything. Anger becomes rage, when you’re sad you’re in despair. Every single day I fight to not just turn it all off, but I hold on because…”

“Because you can’t be a ripper again,” she whispered.

He nodded, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I don’t want that life for you. I never did. I would have let you go.”

She teared up again, remembering the calls and texts that had gone unanswered. Remembering staying one step ahead as her friend spent weeks trying to track her down. How she had known he had been hurting, but continued to run.

“Go talk to him,” he whispered, turning her and playfully shoving her towards the house.

She turned, walking backwards so she could face Stefan. “For what it’s worth, I really missed you.”

*****

She found him in one of the spare rooms, thumbing through a stack of vintage vinyls. She stepped into the room hesitantly, unsure of what she could possibly say to fix the hurt she had caused him. She watched him quietly, and for a moment she wondered if it was better this way. If she had to die, maybe he’d fair better if he hated her.

She shook the thought away and stepped further into the room, deliberately making her presence known. “Damon went through a bit of a punk rock phase…” she said, nodding towards the vinyl. “Stefan had more of a classic rock vibe, I think.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgement. He held up a certified gold Bon Jovi album with a look of confusion.

She laughed. “Someday you’ll have to ask Stefan about his party days with Lexi, and his night with Bon Jovi.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled in the corners, a hint of a smile. “Who’s Lexi?” He asked conversationally.

“She was his best friend,” she smiled softly at the memory of the blonde vampire. “You would have liked her.”

“Vampire?” He asked.

She nodded.

Dean placed the vinyl back in the pile, shoving it back in it’s spot and shaking his head. “Then probably not,” he replied stiffly.

“Don’t be like that,” she sighed. “They’re not all bad.”

He scoffed. “Like Elijah? And Damon?”

“Damon?”

There, he picked at the scab until it started to bleed, and now it was all going to rush out. “Yea,” he said, anger rising. “Anybody else you’re fucking in this house that I should add to the list?”

Even as the words left his mouth he regretted them, but as he watched her recoil at them, he felt the guilt wrap around him and the shame that flooded his veins.

So why the hell couldn’t he stop? The anger burned just underneath his skin, begging to tear its way out.

“Stefan?” He asked. “Tell me, is it just vampires? Or are you into all of the weird shit?”

The hurt in Y/N’s face twisted into rage. “First of all, I don’t owe you a single explanation about my past, but just for my own sanity, where the hell did you get the idea that I’d ever in a million years sleep with Damon?”

“Damon told me.”

“Eww! Gross, but besides the point,” she took a deep breath, an attempt at calming herself. “Look, I’m gonna give you that one free pass, because you’re hurt, and you’re obviously pissed off, and I get it…”

“You know what,” he snapped. “You’re right, you don’t owe me a damn thing. Forget it. Whatever this was,” he gestured between them. “It’s over.”

She nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, focusing on the sting of her bite instead of the pain in her chest. “Yeah, you know what, I guess it is,” she snapped.

“Great,” he agreed.

“Perfect!”

When he pushed past her, she didn’t bother turning around to watch him walk away.

*****

Dean stomped down the stairs, eager to get out of the Boarding House.

He knew he had no right to be angry. He had no claim on Y/N, they hadn’t said they were exclusive. Hell, he had slept with more than his share of women, so who was he to judge?

It wasn’t the sex.

It was Elijah, and the way he got under her skin. It was the way they looked at each other, the way that even after all this time she dreamt of him. It was the way she refused to leave his side back at the motel. How in her darkest moments, she called out for him.

Elijah.

She was in love with him. Worst of all, he had known it, and he has kissed her anyway.

So who was he really angry at? Y/N, or himself?

“Dean,” the refined voice stopped him in his tracks. “A word?”

Dean took a deep breath, trying to stave off the outburst at the tip of his tongue, the fist that wanted to swing. He turned to find Elijah, the last person he wanted to see.

He could tell by the Original’s posture there was no room for argument. Elijah was intent on talking whether he was willing to listen or not. Dean nodded, tight lipped and reluctant as he followed the vampire into a room off of the main hall. It was large, like the rest of the rooms in the house, the rich mahogany bringing a deep warmth into the space. A piano sat in the center of the pristine room, but if it was used, it wasn’t often.

Elijah studied Dean for a moment, and the hunter shifted, feeling instead like the prey. He puffed his chest a bit and raised his chin, locking his jaw and letting the vampire know he wasn’t afraid.

Elijah placed a hand in his pocket, relaxing his own stance a bit. “Did Y/N ever tell you the story of how she and I first met?”

Dean scoffed, turning his gaze towards the large windows for a moment. “I don’t think it ever came up,” he shot back.

“I was sent to kill her,” he stated, pulling Dean’s full attention back on him. “My family and the Salvatores were having a bit of a...spat...you could say. Niklaus needed to show Stefan that he was not playing games and Y/N was to be collateral damage in our feud.”

“So what, you saw a pretty face worth sparing?” Dean sighed.

Elijah showed a hint of a smile. “No, actually. Though her beauty was undeniable. She is quite captivating." He paused, lost in the memory of her. "It was her eyes," he continued. "She saw death at her doorstep, I held her life in my hands, one movement and it’d all be over,” he moved, gliding his hands along the piano, no longer able to meet Dean’s gaze. He still held a great deal of guilt and shame over their initial meeting.

“I’ve taken life more times than I can count, ripped it away without question. There’s a moment, before the end, where you can see everything in their eyes, just before the life is drained from them.” He paused, lost in his darkest moments. Faces in his mind that had haunted him for centuries. He cleared his throat, shaking off his demons before continuing. “Most fear it,” he explained. “They cry, or scream, beg for mercy. A few are brave…”

Dean glared at Elijah, and he wondered if it were possible to hate anyone more than he hated the man in front of him.

“Y/N was different,” he explained. “I looked in her eyes, and I didn’t see fear or acceptance. Instead I saw forgiveness...understanding, even.” He turned, facing Dean once more. “I’m aware of what I am, Dean. I’ve been lost in the blood and the chaos so long…” he trailed off. “I know what I am, and Y/N...she’s everything that is good in this world. It’s why I love her.”

Dean knew, because it was why he loved her, too.

“How she ever found it in her to love me in return, I’ll never understand,” he admitted.

“What’s your point?”

Elijah smiled sadly. “All of this to say, Y/N has a capacity for forgiveness unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You’d do well not to abuse it.”

Dean furrowed his brows.

“Our time together over the last few days,” he explained. “It was nothing more than closure for Y/N.”

“It’s none of my business,” Dean said angrily.

Elijah nodded in agreeance. “Perhaps. But I will make it a point to make it my business if you ever hurt her again,” he threatened.

Dean swallowed, nodding. He didn’t need Elijah to tell him he had acted like an ass, but he also couldn’t blame the guy for looking out for her.

If the roles were reversed, he’d do the same. *****

If Damon was surprised to see her, it didn’t show on his face. He stripped off his leather jacket, tossing it on a chair in the corner. “Well, I always knew this day would come…” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Y/N, who sat on the edge of his bed. “Admit it, you couldn’t resist me anymore.”

She scoffed. “You’re so gross, Damon.”

He shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “You love it,” he winked.

“Did you tell Dean we slept together?”

Damon made a show of struggling to recall the conversation. “I may have suggested it…”

She threw a pillow at him. “Well thanks a lot, he hates me now…”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Please, he’s like a lost puppy trailing after you.”

“Damon! Why did you lie?”

He threw his arms up. “I don’t know, Y/N, I thought it’d be fun to mess with him. He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine.” He sat next to her. “Besides, what are you really doing here? I mean, I’m flattered, but I’ve moved on. You missed your chance. Elena and I are very happy…”

“Where exactly is Elena?”

“She’s on a road trip with Bonnie,” he sighed.

“So she doesn’t know about any of this?”

Damon shook his head. “Look, I don’t need to be distracted worrying about Elena, too. It’s best if she’s as far from here as possible. Bonnie, too.”

Y/N couldn’t argue, but she knew Damon would be in the dog house after this.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked again.

She swallowed, her face turning serious as she played with the leather bracelet along her wrist. “I need a favor…”

He furrowed his brows with curiosity, about to ask why she wouldn’t just go to Stefan when she pressed her finger to her lips, silencing him. She glanced toward the door, pointing in the direction of the rest of the house before gesturing toward her ear.

So it was a favor she didn’t want anyone else to overhear…

“Why don’t I drive you home?” He asked.

“Thanks.”

[rarestereocats]

The hag teleports us and we're whisked away to an island vacation suited to our needs with piles of gold and booze a plenty.  At least,  that's what we were wishing for.  Instead,  we're treated to the sight of shelves of books on dark magic and a bubbling cauldron full of god knows what.  Tending to the stew is the hag we traveled all this way for.  Amelia's mother,  Myrtle.  Wait,  what was that?  Looks like we got the wrong hag as this is her sister,  Lydia,  and now we're stuck in this dark,  damp room with her until the rest of the coven arrives.  Lydia's shocked by our lack of fear in this situation,  eventually going from an intimidating sight to a surprisingly hospitable host.  Until we get on her nerves anyways and she shoos us from the room.

We're left to wander at our leisure,  so of course we're going to take this opportunity to invade their privacy.  They're a coven of powerful beings,  so surely they have treasure hidden somewhere.  Down the stairs we go into a room that's partially flooded with murky water.  It's full of trinkets and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling,  but beyond that,  there isn't much of interest.  Our esteemed guests,  aka the prisoners the hags originally wanted;  manage to get a shuriken from Brutus.  The halfling goes to make his escape,  only for his human friend to stop him before he makes the mistake of pissing us off.  Spoiler for the very near future,  they should've fucking ran while they had the chance.  Unfortunately for them,  we all carry on into a cavern littered with quills and bones.  I'm able to piece together that this place is home to a bandersnatch and given that they're highly dangerous,  we decide to backtrack.

The next path we turn down leads us to an ogre,  Grok,  who's been tasked with looking over the prison.  He's hostile for all of two seconds before we explain that we've been left to explore the place and he allows us inside.  The prisoners currently locked up are far more interesting than the assholes we picked up earlier.  There's a handsome aasimar with wings made of light and his dwarven companion,  who happens to a cleric devoted to a trickster god.  They introduce themselves as Niktos and Darcy,  telling us that they know the human and halfling as the used to work together.  When the hags captured Niktos and Darcy,  the other two abandoned them and fled.  We don't take too kindly to cowards on this crew,  so me and TT decide that it's best to swap them out.  We bring the human and halfling in and as Niktos tears them a new one,  they realize their days are numbered.

TT frees our new,  cooler companions and I shove the others inside to be locked up.  They're not thrilled about the current predicament and while that's understandable,  we don't care to listen to their pleas.  We head back to Lydia's room and the rest of the coven has finally arrived.  We tell them we sought them out to make a deal and Myrtle shoves her sisters aside,  ushering the rest of us into her bedroom to talk business.  On the way,  she talks of how she has many daughters,  the majority of them twisted princesses and queens.  Except for Charlotte,  who is the family disappointment for being too benevolent.  Somehow the conversation manages to rope me into more personal stakes and my feelings for Amelia slip out like butter,  leaving all of us shocked,  though Myrtle is pleasantly surprised.  She now has more to hold over my head,  but I'm not going down alone.

The deal is this:  she brings Amelia back right at this very moment and all that she asks for in return is a rakshasa's eye.  It's a powerful component for spells,  though she isn't inclined to get into the details.  Sure,  we'll get you a goddamn eyeball,  but wait;  there's more!  If we fail to complete this task within a few days,  my soul will be eternally bound to her.  We manage to convince her to give us a month and I convince her to take all our souls upon failure because like I said,  if I go down,  everybody's going down with me.  TT slips out of the deal because she hates Amelia and Brutus is freed from it because he wants to go on an adventure with Grok.  They're to find Myrtle a stronger bodyguard,  so off they go,  leaving the rest of us to wrap this up.  Amelia's revived in another room so that the hags can attempt to take control of her.  The spell fails and instead,  all they get is a lot of sass.  She's returned to us and when we all lovingly shower her in a chorus of "Pukehead",  she puts in the contract that we're no longer allowed to call her that.

I can't let that happen.  If we keep that tidbit out of the contract,  I assure Myrtle that we'll get her a pair of rakshasa eyes rather than just one.  Nobody's happy about that,  but the deal is sealed the moment we step into the binding circle.  With no way of knowing where a rakshasa is,  our chances of completing this task within a month is very low.  We head back to the ship,  only stopping so Amelia can do another one of her creepy rituals to raise Griffith from the dead once more.  She takes an offering of my blood this time and we watch in horror as Griffith climbs to the top of the pile...only to be knocked down by a new skeleton.  His bones are charred and two horns curl from his head.  Our new baby boy,  Lothric,  is welcomed to the world,  though he's not greeted with any smiling faces.  Once we arrive to the shore,  our rowboat is gone,  leaving us stranded thanks to Brutus.

[musicallisto]

Hi! May I please have a marauders, MCU and blades of light and shadow match-up? I'm straight, she/her. I'm a ravenclaw and an INFP, I'm introverted but pretty friendly and outgoing once you get to know me. I love reading,my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I tend to daydream quite a lot and have a tendency to overthink stuff, I can also be a tad melodramatic at times. People often come to me for advice or to vent! (1/2)

I Ship You With...

Remus Lupin

okay you two would be the cutest and most affectionate couple - also the most blushy one

it wouldn’t help that the others (James and Sirius, especially) would spend the first days teasing the hell out of Moony for finding himself a girlfriend

“oh, he’s all grown up now” “Sirius” “look at our baby, James! can you believe how fast time flies?” “Sirius Black” “shh. let me pretend you’re still a little boy” “SIRIUS”

(they’re obviously incredibly happy for the both of you. you deserve & love each other so much, and you’re a pair of nerds that they love to watch snuggle together by the fire when you think no one else is looking)

you’d exchange books that you love and have the other read them, then discuss them - most of the time it would end up in frenzied conversations until two and a half in the morning where you gush about the characters and the worldbuilding and you sigh dreamily at the romance and the magic of it all, until he slyly reminds you that nothing is imaginary in the magic world

you’d shyly come to him one day and ask if he knows any reliable and truthful books about his... furry little problem (as you’ve learned to call it with the other boys, but really you don’t like that denomination because it implies that Remus is problematic), because you want to learn more about how to deal with it when it arises and how to keep him and everyone around safe, and you mostly trust books to give you this kind of knowledge. he’s deeply touched by your request, and although he tries to keep his composure and give you a list of works that resonated with him (though he doesn’t read too much about werewolves. it’s still difficult to handle the reality of it all), you can tell by his reddened cheeks and his fumbling words that it’s the most thoughtful sign of affection anyone has ever shown towards him

dates in Hogsmeade! what was at first strictly a friendly gathering for the entire group in the period preceding christmas remained a friendly escapade when you got together with Remus... but also the rest of the Marauders learned to give you a little space every time you go down to the village and leave you to frolick, as Sirius abjectly calls it, in the colorfully-lit streets.

you grab butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks (it will invariably be way too sugary for your liking, but seeing Remus’s white, creamy mustache after he dipped his lips in the drink is always worth it), as many sweets as you can carry in Honeydukes (most times it requires more than one bag and a few magic tricks to be able to transport them all), and end the day walking hand in hand in the main streets of the village, snow gently covering your hair and shoulders and engulfing the two of you in a winter wonder. his fingers and yours always tense when your steps bring you closer to the Shrieking Shack; but you press his hand, and when he’s more restless than usual or the full moon approaches you press a few feather-light kisses to his knuckles. you’re here and you’re not going anywhere. for that day and for that night, at least, everything is going to be okay.

Bruce Banner

it takes him more than ages to ask you out. decades. centuries! MILLENIA

and meanwhile absolutely everyone with a pair of eyes can see how dumbstruck he gets whenever you walk in the room, and how his every internal organ stops when you talk to him. in his eyes, you’re a paragon of confidence and coolness (which actually you’re convinced you aren’t, because you’re also a blabbering mess whenever you have to talk to him), and he’s... well, he’s only himself. some kind of STEM nerd. also, on occasion, the Incredible Hulk. no big deal? YES VERY BIG DEAL

but in reality, it is not big deal for you. he seems to forget every so often that he is a doctor and that someone with several PhD’s doesn’t exactly qualify as a STEM nerd in your mind (maybe at least its most powerful form). and even beyond that, he is an incredibly caring soul who’s constantly putting others before him, and it’s mesmerizing and refreshing to just sit on a chair in his lab, reading a novel, with him working on some new solutions, listening to the buzz of the kilns and the lapping of distilled water and peroxides in their testing tubes. you get a sense of peace when you watch him work that you never seem to find anywhere else, and in no one else’s presence.

now obviously Tony (it always has to be Tony) can’t BEAR anymore all this tension between his two best associates (that’s how he calls his friends when he’s not drunk enough), and is practically begging the both of you to make a move or at least talk it out and resolve all of this electricity. which you’d rather die than do, because he’s Tony Stark, he can’t imagine the immensity of the humiliation that would slap you in the face if you attempted to confess your feelings to anyone (especially Bruce!), but you can and you know.

after a few more failed attempts, Tony decides to take the matter in his own hands. nothing in this world will ever get done without his help, he swears!

at first he tries to convince the both of you, separately, to go to a mystery blind date at Luna Park, on Coney Island. you both vigorously decline. Tony has had brillian ideas in the past, but putting yourselves out there to spend a day with a stranger and possibly find love with them? ridiculous. that’s when Tony changes plans: now he’s inviting the both of you (still separately, without mentioning anything jointly) to spend the day with him at the fun fair. it will be fun, he says, just an afternoon eating cotton candy and rifle shooting with his friend. that sounds fishy enough coming from him. it’s a miracle (or maybe a consequence of Tony’s incessant supplications) that you both accept.

when you see Bruce, and Bruce sees you, arrive from both sides of the street to the meeting point you both agreed on with Tony, you start to smell the con-trick. obviously, you shouldn’t have put this past Tony Stark. now you’re both stuck with the other and you have nowhere to look at to distract yourself from his shy, adorable eyes and timid smile. of course.

well. now that you’re here, standing like idiots, not daring to say anything to the other, in front of the entrance of Luna Park, you’d rather make the most of it. chase the butterflies that pierce your throat whenever you catch a glimpse of his excited voice, extinguish the flames that arise through all your body when he puts his hand on the small of your back - then promptly moves it.

the ferris wheel seems to call you. tugging on bruce’s arm, you lead him to the attraction with more enthusiasm than you imagined you would have when the day started. New York City is always a wonder to look at from the heights. Bruce lets out a nervous laugh, but follows you anyway. it’s not like anything is bound to go wrong, right?

but of course. you both were carefree enough to forget that the entire ordeal had been orchestrated by none other than Tony Stark. when your cabin reaches the top of the wheel, and your face lights up at the sight of the sea, Tony’s voice rings out from the speakers at the exact same moment as your cabin comes to an abrupt halt.

“your attention please. due to regrettable circumstances, the ride will be stopping for approximatively thirty minutes. please enjoy the view, whether it is the bay or the person in front of you. later.”

suddenly you want to grab him by the collar and throw his smug little smile out the cabin, headfirst into the Atlantic.

“I’m so sorry,” rings out Bruce’s voice in the tightness of the cabin, his embarrassment true. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this and now I got you in this mess...”

“You didn’t get me in any mess. I agreed too. I guess...” you swallow hard, the faintest of smiles coming to rest on your lips. “I guess we’ll have to make good use of this time, then.”

Tyril

it takes a lot for him to open up to you: patience, efforts, gentle smiles and light touches on his shoulder, good manners, and respect of his past, privacy, and boundaries. a little like approaching a wounded animal in the woods. you have to gain his trust, first. it’s not the easiest task you’ve ever had to tackle, but hey, it can’t be harder than recollecting the evil shadow shards to stop the harmful influence of the murderous, evil, shadow court over your world, right?

(it’s almost harder, actually! you never would have guessed. but that elf has so many walls around his soul, and you have to scale every one of them with your bare hands.)

it’s worth it, though. it’s always worth it to see his smile light up the forest like a thousand fairly lights, and the tenderness of such a beautiful soul, that has lost so much, come alive every time you embrace him.

you see the blue flame of sadness in his eyes when he looks at you, and he sees the image of Kaya, the one he cared for so deeply and he lost so much time ago. it still pains him because he feels like it might be his fault, that he didn’t work hard enough to save her from the evil of the shadow court. his worst fear, although he will never admit it, is that another of the innocent people he loves most will succumb to the darkness and he will watch it unravel, powerless. but you assure him that it will not happen. you are too strong-minded to be corrupted.

he teaches you how to fight, and it’s an unexpected moment of intimacy between the two of you, getting to know each other better than ever, with each other’s strengths and weaknesses

you only ever see him be truly happy when he’s surrounded by the lights of the fae, that you randomly stumble upon in the middle of the deadwood, and that reflect a thousand colors on his beautiful, upturned face. at that precise moment, you can swear you’ve never seen someone more radiant, and someone more in love

when his eyes finally fall onto yours, his look of utter adoration does not disminish, quite the opposite actually; and he holds your gaze as if you were much more of a wonder than anything that’s happening in this kaleidoscopic clearing. your breath hitches in your throat, and a pink fire blossoms in your chest; it is here, in the most desolated of places in the entire country, that you discover love and love discovers you for the first time

[endymionreads]

So I've never done the Magical Readathon before, but it happened to cross my tl this afternoon on twitter, and I figured, since I'm trying to get back into reading, why not? It was the perfect opportunity!

I will be attempting all of the exams, and whatever I pass will be the N.E.W.T.S. I take if I do that in August! I don’t really know what I want to choose for a career yet, both irl and for the Readathon, so I’ll just be taking the exams and seeing where I end up!

You can view my TBR under the cut!

Ancient Runes → Read a book with a heart on the cover or in the title.

Bring Me Their Hearts by Sara Wolf

Zera is a Heartless – the immortal, unageing soldier of a witch. Bound to the witch Nightsinger ever since she saved her from the bandits who murdered her family, Zera longs for freedom from the woods they hide in. With her heart in a jar under Nightsinger’s control, she serves the witch unquestioningly. Until Nightsinger asks Zera for a Prince’s heart in exchange for her own, with one addendum; if she’s discovered infiltrating the court, Nightsinger will destroy her heart rather than see her tortured by the witch-hating nobles. Crown Prince Lucien d’Malvane hates the royal court as much as it loves him – every tutor too afraid to correct him and every girl jockeying for a place at his darkly handsome side. No one can challenge him – until the arrival of Lady Zera. She’s inelegant, smart-mouthed, carefree, and out for his blood. The Prince’s honor has him quickly aiming for her throat. So begins a game of cat and mouse between a girl with nothing to lose and a boy who has it all. Winner takes the loser’s heart. Literally.

Arithmancy → Read a book outside your favorite genre.

Red, White, & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

What happens when America's First Son falls in love with the Prince of Wales? When his mother became President of the United States, Alex Claremont-Diaz was promptly cast as the American equivalent of a young royal. Handsome, charismatic, genius—his image is pure millennial-marketing gold for the White House. There's only one problem: Alex has a beef with an actual prince, Henry, across the pond. And when the tabloids get hold of a photo involving an Alex/Henry altercation, U.S./British relations take a turn for the worse. Heads of the family and state and other handlers devise a plan for damage control: Stage a truce between the two rivals. What at first begins as a fake, Instagrammable friendship grows deeper, and more dangerous, than either Alex or Henry could have imagined. Soon Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret romance with a surprisingly unstuffy Henry that could derail the presidential campaign and upend two nations. It raises the question: Can love save the world after all? Where do we find the courage, and the power, to be the people we are meant to ben? And how can we learn to let our true colors shine through? , how will history remember you?

Astronomy → Read the majority of the book at night.

We Rule the Night by Claire Eliza Bertlett

Seventeen-year-old Revna is a factory worker, manufacturing war machines for the Union of the North. When she's caught using illegal magic, she fears being branded a traitor and imprisoned.

Meanwhile, on the front lines, Linne defied her father, a Union general, and disguised herself as a boy to join the army. They're both offered a reprieve from punishment if they use their magic in a special women's military flight unit and undertake terrifying, deadly missions under cover of darkness.

Revna and Linne can hardly stand to be in the same cockpit, but if they can't fly together, and if they can't find a way to fly well, the enemy's superior firepower will destroy them--if they don't destroy each other first.We Rule the Night is a powerful story about sacrifice, complicated friendships, and survival despite impossible odds

Care of Magical Creatures → Read a book with a creature with a beak on the cover.

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim

Maia Tamarin dreams of becoming the greatest tailor in the land, but as a girl, the best she can hope for is to marry well. When a royal messenger summons her ailing father, once a tailor of renown, to court, Maia poses as a boy and takes his place. She knows her life is forfeit if her secret is discovered, but she'll take that risk to achieve her dream and save her family from ruin. There's just one catch: Maia is one of twelve tailors vying for the job. Backstabbing and lies run rampant as the tailors compete in challenges to prove their artistry and skill. Maia's task is further complicated when she draws the attention of the court magician, Edan, whose piercing eyes seem to see straight through her disguise. And nothing could have prepared her for the final challenge: to sew three magic gowns for the emperor's reluctant bride-to-be, from the laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of stars. With this impossible task before her, she embarks on a journey to the far reaches of the kingdom, seeking the sun, the moon, and the stars, and finding more than she ever could have imagined.

Charms → Read a book that has a white cover.

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive. Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble. But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little. For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

Defense Against the Dark Arts → Read a book set at the sea or on the coast.

Seafire by Natalie C. Parker

After her family is killed by corrupt warlord Aric Athair and his bloodthirsty army of Bullets, Caledonia Styx is left to chart her own course on the dangerous and deadly seas. She captains her ship, the Mors Navis, with a crew of girls and women just like her, who have lost their families and homes because of Aric and his men. The crew has one mission: stay alive, and take down Aric's armed and armored fleet. But when Caledonia's best friend and second-in-command barely survives an attack thanks to help from a Bullet looking to defect, Caledonia finds herself questioning whether to let him join their crew. Is this boy the key to taking down Aric Athair once and for all . . . or will he threaten everything the women of the Mors Navis have worked for?

Divination → Assign numbers to your TBR List, and use a generator to pick the book.

All the Stars and Teeth by Adalyn Grace

Set in a kingdom where danger lurks beneath the sea, mermaids seek vengeance with song, and magic is a choice. She will reign. As princess of the island kingdom Visidia, Amora Montara has spent her entire life training to be High Animancer—the master of souls. The rest of the realm can choose their magic, but for Amora, it’s never been a choice. To secure her place as heir to the throne, she must prove her mastery of the monarchy’s dangerous soul magic. When her demonstration goes awry, Amora is forced to flee. She strikes a deal with Bastian, a mysterious pirate: he’ll help her prove she’s fit to rule, if she’ll help him reclaim his stolen magic. But sailing the kingdom holds more wonder—and more peril—than Amora anticipated. A destructive new magic is on the rise, and if Amora is to conquer it, she’ll need to face legendary monsters, cross paths with vengeful mermaids, and deal with a stow-away she never expected… or risk the fate of Visidia and lose the crown forever. I am the right choice. The only choice. And I will protect my kingdom.

Herbology → Read a book where title starts with an m.

Mirage by Somaiya Daud

In a star system dominated by the brutal Vathek empire, eighteen-year-old Amani is a dreamer. She dreams of what life was like before the occupation; she dreams of writing poetry like the old-world poems she adores; she dreams of receiving a sign from Dihya that one day, she, too, will have adventure, and travel beyond her isolated moon. But when adventure comes for Amani, it is not what she expects: she is kidnapped by the regime and taken in secret to the royal palace, where she discovers that she is nearly identical to the cruel half-Vathek Princess Maram. The princess is so hated by her conquered people that she requires a body double, someone to appear in public as Maram, ready to die in her place. As Amani is forced into her new role, she can’t help but enjoy the palace’s beauty—and her time with the princess’ fiancé, Idris. But the glitter of the royal court belies a world of violence and fear. If Amani ever wishes to see her family again, she must play the princess to perfection...because one wrong move could lead to her death.

History of Magic → Read a book featuring witches and/or wizards

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling

Harry Potter's life is miserable. His parents are dead and he's stuck with his heartless relatives, who force him to live in a tiny closet under the stairs. But his fortune changes when he receives a letter that tells him the truth about himself: he's a wizard. A mysterious visitor rescues him from his relatives and takes him to his new home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After a lifetime of bottling up his magical powers, Harry finally feels like a normal kid. But even within the Wizarding community, he is special. He is the boy who lived: the only person to have ever survived a killing curse inflicted by the evil Lord Voldemort, who launched a brutal takeover of the Wizarding world, only to vanish after failing to kill Harry. Though Harry's first year at Hogwarts is the best of his life, not everything is perfect. There is a dangerous secret object hidden within the castle walls, and Harry believes it's his responsibility to prevent it from falling into evil hands. But doing so will bring him into contact with forces more terrifying than he ever could have imagined. Full of sympathetic characters, wildly imaginative situations, and countless exciting details, the first installment in the series assembles an unforgettable magical world and sets the stage for many high-stakes adventures to come.

Muggle Studies → Read a contemporary book.

Of Curses and Kisses by Sandhya Menon

Will the princess save the beast? For Princess Jaya Rao, nothing is more important than family. When the loathsome Emerson clan steps up their centuries-old feud to target Jaya’s little sister, nothing will keep Jaya from exacting her revenge. Then Jaya finds out she’ll be attending the same elite boarding school as Grey Emerson, and it feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. She knows what she must do: Make Grey fall in love with her and break his heart. But much to Jaya’s annoyance, Grey’s brooding demeanor and lupine blue eyes have drawn her in. There’s simply no way she and her sworn enemy could find their fairy-tale ending…right? His Lordship Grey Emerson is a misanthrope. Thanks to an ancient curse by a Rao matriarch, Grey knows he’s doomed once he turns eighteen. Sequestered away in the mountains at St. Rosetta’s International Academy, he’s lived an isolated existence—until Jaya Rao bursts into his life, but he can't shake the feeling that she’s hiding something. Something that might just have to do with the rose-shaped ruby pendant around her neck… As the stars conspire to keep them apart, Jaya and Grey grapple with questions of love, loyalty, and whether it’s possible to write your own happy ending.

Potions → Read a  book under 150 pages

Red As Blood And White As Bone by Theodora Goss

Red as Blood and White as Bone by Theodora Goss is a dark fantasy about a kitchen girl obsessed with fairy tales, who upon discovering a ragged woman outside the castle during a storm, takes her in--certain she’s a princess in disguise.

Transfiguration → Read a book or series that includes shapeshifting

Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce

Young Daine's knack with horses gets her a job helping the royal horsemistress drive a herd of ponies to Tortall. Soon it becomes clear that Daine's talent, as much as she struggles to hide it, is downright magical. Horses and other animals not only obey, but listen to her words. Daine, though, will have to learn to trust humans before she can come to terms with her powers, her past, and herself.

Like what I post? Follow me on: twitter | curiouscat | wordpress | goodreads

[brownstonearmy]

2020-05-16: “Legal” Litter Liberation, Part 2

July 25 (Saturday Afternoon)

After the events of the last adventure, the party regains consciousness inside the vault. The piles of sand collected in the dreamworld's Desert of the Restless melt away to almost nothing as the party discusses what just happened. Within moments, all that remains of the ethereal sand is a handful of shimmering grains resting at the bottom of the portable hole. The lock in the vault disengages, and the party scrambles to hide because someone could be attempting to enter unexpectedly.

Several tense moments pass, but the door doesn't open from the outside. Perhaps it is some sort of lock that disengaged automatically once the sleeping gas system was destroyed when Riahra rescued her brother from the dreamworld. Lucky dons the invisibility cloak, cracks open the vault door, and peers outside. The coast seems clear, but it's not a good idea to wander around a bank vault without taking some sort of precautionary measures. Lucky turns Spleenifer and Fuego invisible with a spell, while Norm rides shotgun inside the portable hole.

Once out of Vault 4, the party formulates a gameplan. The party tiptoes up the steps toward a set of double doors, but Fuego hears the footsteps of someone walking on the other side. Lucky casts prestidigitation to communicate this observation to the rest of the party, only to see a sign on the door that says "For your safety and ours, please refrain from using magic on the premises." Oops.

Fuego opens one of the double doors just a crack to see into the hallway. They put a finger into the hallway, just to see if anything happens. When nothing out of the ordinary happens, it's time to move forward. The door silently opens on well-oiled hinges to an empty hallway. Accountants and auditors finish up their daily tasks as the business day is drawing to a close. Several lines in different colors are painted on the floor of the hallway, and the party knows they are supposed to travel along a certain line to avoid triggering an alarm. But what color are they supposed to use?

In Fuego's case, they use the slippers of spider climb to crawl along the wall and ceiling. Lucky doesn't have that option, but she ain't got no time to hesitate 'cuz this is a bank heist! She picks a line at random and jumps on it. Much to everyone's relief, nothing seems to happen. Norm is still chilling in the hole, ready to deploy magic items at a moment's notice, while Spleenifer takes a big step onto the gray line behind Lucky.

But escape is never that easy. A patrolling human guard is walking on the gray line, too, and he is coming at the party from the opposite direction. In just a few short seconds, he's going to collide with the party if they don't get out of the way. Lucky opts to use her halfling skills to dart underneath the guard's legs as he approaches. Spleenifer, whose calf muscles are bulging with strength from the magic belt, opts to high jump OVER the guard. She nearly hits the ceiling, but swan dives behind the guard and pops back up without a sound. Her jump was so fluid that not even her chainmail shirt gave her away. It's just the sound of some noisy keys on the guard's overburdened keyring.

The party makes it to the bank's ground level and heads straight for the exit. Since their invisibility hasn't been broken yet, it's easy to sneak the rest of the way. Fuego makes it outside first, still crawling along the walls and ceiling right past a surly security guard who is impatiently waiting for everyone to leave. As Fuego waits for the others whilst invisibly perched on the exterior wall of the bank, their hand starts to tingle and burn. An animated tattoo of an hourglass appears on their left hand, the grains of sand slowly trickling to the bottom.

Moments later, everyone else makes it out. And like Fuego, the rest of the party gets marked with hourglass tattoos. It's counting down to something, but what? According to the signage in the town square, the party is currently located in the town of Swanmark, a trading city on the other side of the mountains from Brownstone. Swanmark is about a 10-day trek through the mountains to get home.

A shifty-looking wizard named Thompson Crevice is barking offers for teleportation vacations to a tropical island, only 10gp per person! Mechanical guards burst out of the bank and dash toward the party to mete out some justice and property reclamation. A teleportation vacation is looking pretty good at the moment, and the wizard transports the party as soon as money changes hands. The party appears at an altar on top of a tropical island volcano. Spleenifer expresses concern that this "vacation" could be a ruse to get sacrifices for some sort of volcano god. At least the view is pretty nice here, overlooking a geyser and collection of huts in the jungle, some sort of stone ziggurat in a swamp, and several black sand beaches along the perimeter of the island.

Lucky and Fuego decide to trek toward the geyser, where they have lunch. But the geyser isn't just a spicy hole in the ground; this particular geyser has a fancy temple with an open roof built around it. Pictograms cover the walls and floor, which Fuego is able to interpret as being a history of this island. There was some sort of fire god who was imprisoned in a well after a lengthy battle. Given the legend of a fire god being in such close proximity to a hole in the ground that sprays hot water and steam, Lucky and Fuego decide it is best to depart as soon as lunch is over.

Meanwhile, Norm and Spleenifer head toward the southernmost black sand beach. The path through the swamps will pass close to the ziggurat, and Spleenifer wants to check it out (as temples are Kind Of A Big Deal to Spleenifer). Spleenifer summons a mount and sets a course toward the beach with Norm just barely squeezing into the saddle alongside Spleenifer's mighty frame. Along the way, a group of cloaked figures approach the pair and insist they come with the mysterious strangers. The suggestion of the mysterious strangers falls on (metaphorically) deaf ears, and the two travel past the ziggurat. There seems to be a lot of snake imagery in this part of the island, but it gets much less prominent once they clear the treeline of the swamp and reach the beach.

Norm notices that there are tiefling remains buried in the sand as Spleenifer scoops as much sand into the portable hole as possible. This place appears to be some sort of ceremonial burial ground. Spleenifer has always wanted a horn of battle carved from a tiefling's horn, so she snaps one off the skull of a skeleton who doesn't seem to need their horns at the moment. A tiefling priestess clambers down the trail to the beach and demands to know what Norm and Spleenifer are doing on this sacred burial ground.

An argument ensues once Spleenifer makes an offhand remark about the fiendish origins of the tiefling race. The tiefling is named Dekara, and she is a Waller of her tribe. Wallers are responsible for keeping an infernal portal closed on the island. But no, let's just assume all tieflings are universally corrupt because of their infernal ancestry. Spleenifer's foot: meet Spleenifer's mouth.

But fortunately for our pair of potentially-racist heroes, Waller Dekara has a daughter on the island who has recently gone missing. Dekara thinks the snakefolk may have abducted her a few days ago. If the party finds the daughter, Dekara is willing to overlook the social slight, the attempted desecration of graves, and allow some sand to be harvested from the burial ground. SOUNDS GOOD, SO LET'S GO!

Lucky and Fuego are now en route to meet up with Norm and Spleenifer, and they eventually converge near the ziggurat covered in snake imagery. The rational thing to do would be to explain why Spleenifer and Norm want to go into this crumbling ziggurat of evil. But why use words when you can just run in there with zero context? Something smells fiendish in here, and there's no time to waste!

Something (or somethings) is pacing behind the doors to several sealed chambers near the ziggurat's entrance. The first one door leads to a darkened room with a fearsome scaly-skinned creature in there. The party quietly shuts that door and pretends like nothing happened. A similar creature is pacing in the next room, guarding a clutch of eggs. But this second creature has horns and a fiendish scent to Spleenifer. So she casts Lesser Restoration and cures the poor soul of the snakefolk's transformative poison. Everyone makes like a funny word and skedaddles.

Dekara is true to her word (NOT THAT IT SHOULD BE SURPRISING, SPLEENIFER) and lets the party make off with some of that sweet, sweet volcanic sand. And since the Wallers can control the elements on the island, she can cause the teleportation circle on the volcano to activate by triggering some volcanic activity. Waller Dekara makes the magma start bubbling up and magic energy radiates from the teleportation circle.

Something comes out of the circle, though: the two clockwork guards from the bank. They're still tracking the party and they want all the stolen property back. The clockwork guards brandish rapiers and get ready for a fight as the volcanic altar starts breaking apart and sliding down the side of the mountain in a river of pyroclastic flow. OH, SNAP!

Large chunks of the volcanic temple are stable enough to stand on and jump between, but one of the sigils on the teleportation circle was damaged from the eruption and the magic fades. Fuego casts Thunder Wave, which knocks one of the guards into the lava and quickly consumes the guard in a ball of fire. The other guard manages to keep its footing. Lucky casts Gaseous Form on herself, triggering a wild surge that makes all the food in her pack weigh twice as much. For a halfing, this is a good problem to have.

She makes it to the chunk with the teleportation circle and realizes the problem. Her knowledge of the arcane coupled with a sharp memory reveal the where the damaged rune is and what it needs to be replaced with. Norm slings the portable hole at the guard, hoping to create a makeshift trap. The hole narrowly misses the guard, but this proves to be advantageous for the party. As the guard tries to collect the stolen item, Spleenifer jumps across the platform and bum rushes the guard for an impromptu lava bath. Once the teleportation circle is working again, Norm retrieves the portable hole and everyone steps through the teleportation circle to Yula's mansion.

The adventure concludes for the evening as the party prepares to settle the score with Yula. Stay tuned next time for more!

[zrtranscripts]

Sason 8, Mission 5: Fear of the Dark

No way out

~

[sheep baa, crowd chatters, churchbell rings]

PAULA COHEN: Oh, it's rather nice, isn't it, Five? People on the village green, breath steaming in crisp air, mittened hands around mugs of tea. Oh, it's how I used to imagine country life. I didn't imagine the gathering would be for a zombie hunt, but that's life for you. Reliably surprising.

SAM YAO: [static] Oh, it's weird using a walkie-talkie. [clears throat] Uh, can you hear me properly?

PAULA COHEN: All clear, Sam. And this way, we can stay in touch with the other search parties.

LAIRD REID: Aye, we'll make sure no one's left behind.

PAULA COHEN: Oh, hello. You must be Shona's dad! You've got exactly the same nose.

LAIRD REID: Most folks in these parts call me Laird Reid, but aye. I'm Shona's father. It's good to meet you at last, Dr. Cohen. And Runner Five? Shona's told me all about you. I'll be joining you on this search. I've divided my people up into five parties, and I've sent out messages. Everyone will keep an eye out for zombies. If Jones has planted his zombie attractors around, we'll find them and get rid.

PAULA COHEN: You've told them to be careful, too? Jones is dangerous. On the mainland, he killed a lot of people.

LAIRD REID: Aye. He killed my brother. We know what we're up against. The islands breed hardy folk and long memories.

SAM YAO: Okay, guys. Uh, we've got a reported zombie sighting. A crofter called John Watt says there's something bowfing crawling on the cliff. I think that means horrible?

LAIRD REID: Nasty and smelly, aye. Old John's place is out west. Come along. 

~

LAIRD REID: That's John's stone cottage yonder. I told him to stay safe inside.

PAULA COHEN: Do people always do what you say?

LAIRD REID: Folk here know it's my duty to care for them. Same as my father's.

SAM YAO: So your family's been in charge here for a long time?

LAIRD REID: Centuries. Millennia, if legends tell true. There's a saying. The tide sweeps all away but reeds, rocks, and good island blood.

PAULA COHEN: Right.

LAIRD REID: [laughs] Meaning whatever else changes, the land and the people are here to stay. I wish the tide had taken Jones with it. He's a strange wee lad. Always at the edges of things, watching. There's something broken in him. Something beyond fixing.

PAULA COHEN: At least we know he's still on the island.

LAIRD REID: Aye. Aye, we've kept a watch since he came back. He might have gone to another island in this chain, but he's not gone back to the mainland. [laughs] You needn't sound so glad of it. We'd be best off rid of him. Let him be someone else's problem.

SAM YAO: [scoffs] That's, that's not how we think at Abel.

PAULA COHEN: Look! By the patch of heather. A zom head attached to an arm dragging itself towards us.

[gunshot]

LAIRD REID: Nice shot, Five! Bits of brains all over. I suppose you lot are used to the sight, but it turns my stomach.

SAM YAO: Yeah, well, there'll be more zoms coming in if you can't find Jones' beacon.

PAULA COHEN: I think I see it. A black box at the bottom of the cliff.

SAM YAO: Well, get down there quick before it draws anymore zoms.

~

[device shatters]

PAULA COHEN: Oh, that's one device taken care of.

LAIRD REID: Such malice, to place them near a man's croft. I cannae fathom how a man could act so, even Lachlan Jones!

PAULA COHEN: We're still trying to figure out what his plan is. He must have come here for a reason.

LAIRD REID: Hurting us could be reason enough for him.

SAM YAO: Uh, sorry, guys. No rest for the wicked. I mean, not to say that you're wicked, Laird Reid. I mean, you're probably lovely!

LAIRD REID: I know what you meant, lad. What task do you have for us now?

SAM YAO: Um, we've had a message from the Maclean farm. Zoms in the coal stores. They're keeping them at bay, but they need help.

LAIRD REID: Aye, that's over the hill. The wee farmhouse huddled up against the cliff. Lachlan Jones won't be doing any killing on my watch. That's a promise. Let's go!

~

PAULA COHEN: We're here, Sam, but there's no sign of the zoms or the Macleans.

SAM YAO: Well, they mentioned the coal stores.

LAIRD REID: Aye, the barn against the cliffside.

[zombies moan]

PAULA COHEN: Definitely sounds like there's zoms in there. Can you get the door open, Five?

[door creaks open]

LAIRD REID: It's pitch black in here.

PAULA COHEN: I've got a torch. [flashlight clicks on] Nothing. Just piles of coal.

LAIRD REID: Joan? Derek? Will you let us know where you are?

PAULA COHEN: How big is this place?

LAIRD REID: It's big enough. It leads into the caves. They could be hiding behind the coal piles. Follow me.

SAM YAO: Careful, guys. Those zoms sound close.

LAIRD REID: Oh no! Those zombies are Joan and Derek and their wee girl Megan. Oh, that's terrible. I'm so sorry!

[zombie growls]

PAULA COHEN: Watch out!

[coal piles collapse]

SAM YAO: Are you okay?

PAULA COHEN: We're fine. They knocked over the coal pile. Five's gun is buried under the coal. 

LAIRD REID: Back to the door, everyone!

[door slams]

PAULA COHEN: Someone just shut it! [footsteps, doorknob jiggles] I think someone's locked us in.

LAIRD REID: Jones. It has to be.

SAM YAO: Is there another way out?

LAIRD REID: There's an entrance to the caves east of here.

SAM YAO: Then head for that while I send a party after Jones. Run!

~

[zombies moan, fish squelches]

PAULA COHEN: Ugh, something squished under my boot!

LAIRD REID: Fish. The storm will have washed them in. You're likely to find dead rabbits, as well. Maybe even a goat.

PAULA COHEN: Well, that's something to look forward to.

LAIRD REID: Sam, we're nearly at the entrance. Have you heard back from anyone? Did they catch Jones?

SAM YAO: Sorry, gave them the slip.

LAIRD REID: No surprise. Lachlan always was poking his nose in dark holes and finding secret corners to hide in. He knows the island better than anyone.

LACHLAN JONES: [static] Aye, I do. I know this place from its tops to its depths!

SAM YAO: Jones.

LACHLAN JONES: Shouldnae left those walkie-talkies lying around where anyone could take them.

PAULA COHEN: Ignore him. He's trying to distract us. We need to get to the exit.

LACHLAN JONES: Would that be the mouth of the Black Caves, by any chance? I'm heading that way myself. Over the hill, not under it. Shall we see who gets there first?

LAIRD REID: What in the hell do you want, Lachlan? Have you not hurt my family enough?

LACHLAN JONES: No. Not nearly enough. And when you're all gone, I shall be king of the rocks. Not you. And then we'll see, won't we?

PAULA COHEN: Sam, we're at the door.

SAM YAO: And?

[doorknob jiggles]

LAIRD REID: It's locked. Jones got here first.

SAM YAO: Is there another entrance?

LAIRD REID: Oh, there's dozens, but I have no idea where. These caves go under the whole island. Most of them have never been mapped.

PAULA COHEN: If we stay here, we'll be bitten. At least in the caves, we stand a chance. Let's go!

~

PAULA COHEN: All these caves look the same. We could have been running around in circles! And I can't tell if the zoms are in front or behind.

LAIRD REID: Sooner or later we'll come to a place I recognize. We just have to keep going.

SAM YAO: Uh, Laird Reid, what did Jones mean about being king of the rocks?

LAIRD REID: Oh, it's just the kind of thing he'd go mad for. It's a silly island festival, old as the hills. On the full moon next month, we all go up to the cliffs above [Heron Point] and the village lasses, they make a round ball out of ivy and they fill it with fruit and then someone who's done good in the last year is chosen king of the rocks and then gets to roll it off.

SAM YAO: [laughs] Oh my God, Ellie would have loved that so much.

LAIRD REID: Aye. I suppose Lachlan thinks that if he's king of the rocks, that means we've forgiven him, but it doesn't mean anything. There's stories in the old days that they used to sacrifice more than fruit. Now it's an excuse for everyone to get drunk. And if that's why he's trying to kill us, it's pure madness.

LACHLAN JONES: Mad? Aye. That's what the Abel folks said about me, too. And how do you think the insides of your heads'd look if they'd done to you what they did to me here? You never found any evidence that I was a murderer [?] Reid, but that didnae matter. Tried in the court of public opinion. Do you have any idea what it's like when not a soul will speak to you? Won't even look you in the eye? You may as well have driven a stone into my head!

LAIRD REID: Do you expect me to feel sorry for you, Lachlan?

LACHLAN JONES: Only the Maclean's ever had a kind word for me. That's why I came to them when I got stranded here. They let me sleep in their barn. Said they never truly believed I'd been a killer.

SAM YAO: But you murdered them, didn't you? That's why they were already zoms. You infected them and sent the distress call yourself!

LACHLAN JONES: Aye, you've got it.

LAIRD REID: But why?

LACHLAN JONES: Because it was all an act! Inside, they were just as rotten as the rest of yous!

PAULA COHEN: The torch. I think the batteries are running out. It's fading.

LACHLAN JONES: You'll die in the dark, just like Derek and Joan! Just like every other soul on this island!

~

PAULA COHEN: I think... is that light ahead, Five? Or am I imagining it? We've been running in the dark so long.

LAIRD REID: It's light. I can see it.

SAM YAO: Keep going, guys. I raised Morag Brown, the town baker, on the walkie-talkie. She's got a party together to come and help you. Jones won't lock you in again.

LAIRD REID: Aye. Morag can talk for the highlands, but she's a good soul. We're here. I recognize it. It's the east loch door. Help me get it open, Five.

[door creaks open]

PAULA COHEN: Oh, we're out! And Five's locked the door behind us. I thought... I really thought that that might be the end.

LAIRD REID: It would have been if Jones had had his way.

SAM YAO: Yeah. Funny way to prove he's not a murderer, by murdering more people.

PAULA COHEN: I suppose at least we know a bit more about what his plans are.

SAM YAO: [laughs] Yeah, to roll a ball of leaves over a cliff, then kill everyone? I'm not sure how helpful that is.

LAIRD REID: He may be crazy, but he's ruthless, and he won't be easy to stop. The Maclean's were his friends, and we saw what he did to them. I shudder to think what he has in store for the rest of us.

~

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

a language that i never knew existed before - Day 24

For anyone who supports #SaveBenSolo2k19: here’s a post-IX canon-verse ficlet where he finally gets some peace and quiet for once.

I hope you guys enjoy this, and I’ll see you soon for the last piece in this collection! (FINALLY!!!)

25 Days of Reylo Also available on AO3

“You sure this piece of junk can make it to Coruscant?” Finn asks, rapping his knuckles against the ramp as he regards the Falcon with a dubious frown.

Ben chuckles under his breath, shakes his head as Rey zeroes in on a nearby twig and thwacks her friend’s arm with it. “Oi,” she scowls at Finn, resuming her journey up the ramp with a crate of supplies in her arms. “That’s our piece of junk you’re talking about, and she’ll be flying long after your fancy command shuttle’s been stripped for parts. Right, Ben?”

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but… “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m with Finn on this one.”

Rey lets out a theatrical gasp of betrayal as Ben brushes past her with two crates of his own, and he turns back at the door to watch her shoot Finn a glare. “Drop it,” she warns him.

“Oh, like how this ship is going to drop out of the sky?” her friend retorts with barely restrained laughter that quickly turns into a yelp when the twig floats into the air again and starts chasing after him. “All right, all right, I’m going!” Finn laughs as he scurries off towards Poe and their shuttle. “See you on Coruscant!”

“We’ll beat you there!” Rey calls after him as she steps into the Falcon and allows Ben to take her crate with a smile of thanks. He ventures further into the ship to add their three crates to the small pile they’ve been tasked with transporting; unnecessary, now that the war is over and they’re headed to prosperous Coruscant, but no one had had the heart to let perfectly good supplies go to waste after their years of war and scarcity.

When he rejoins Rey in the cockpit, she’s already claimed the captain’s seat for herself and is busy keying in the coordinates for their destination.

Ben slips into the co-pilot’s chair without a word of protest and watches Rey prepare for take-off. Coruscant awaits, and with it the impossible task of rebuilding and maintaining peace, the endless work his mother had dedicated her life to – just like her parents before her, just like her son after her. Is this it for him, then? Is this his life? One uphill battle after another, one master after another – the Jedi, First Order, Resistance, Republic…

A small hand settles over his own, curled into a white-knuckled fist in his lap without him realizing. “Hey,” Rey says gently, turning towards him. “We don’t have to go.”

He automatically rebels against the thought. “Of course we do. Everyone’s expecting us.” Him. Everyone’s expecting him, as well they should, to build, to mend, to atone. And he’s willing to do this, has dedicated himself to the only path left available to him if he and Rey want a future worth having, so why does it feel like he’s flying to their final battle all over again?

“We don’t have to go right now,” Rey points out, lacing their fingers together. She looks at him, allows him to search her eyes, and Ben knows that she’d follow him to the ends of the galaxy even if it meant they could never come back again.

Which is precisely why he pushes his dread to the back of his mind and quiets his thoughts for her sake. “Let’s just go, sweetheart. The Republic, your friends, the galaxy, they’re all–”

“The galaxy can wait,” she declares firmly, no less gentle for the iron will in her voice. “You come first, Ben. Now that I can finally put you first, you come first. Always. No matter what.”

She brushes against his mind, tentatively seeking entry, and Ben allows her in so that her warmth can unfurl and fill every dark corner of his soul, so that she can wrap herself around him like a layer of armor against the galaxy. “I’m supposed to help Dameron rebuild,” he reminds her, a weak protest.

“Ben,” Rey sighs, leans over and wraps her arms around him. “How can you build the future when you’re still haunted by the past?”

He tips forward, rests his head on her shoulder; it’s the only answer he can give her, the only answer she needs.

Rey smiles, runs a hand through his hair as she reaches for her comm.

“Hey, Finn? Change of plans. Looks like Ben and I are going on a honeymoon after all.”

Ahch-To.

She’s brought him to Ahch-To, perhaps the single most haunted planet this side of the galaxy, to escape the ghosts of his past.

Never let it be said that his wife doesn’t have one hell of a sense of humor.

Rey laughs as the thought escapes him, leads him down the ramp with an arm wrapped around his waist. “That’s not what this place is about, you know.”

“What?”

“Ghosts. Regrets. Echoes of the past,” Rey shrugs, and if he didn’t know better he’d say she’s plucking thoughts right from his mind. But this is Rey, Rey who knows him better than he knows himself, Rey who knows secrets the Force hadn’t seen fit to share until her. “I know it’s all you can feel right now, but give it some time. There’s more here.”

Oh, there’s definitely more.

There’s the hut Rey picks out for them, which reminds him of the one his uncle tried to kill him in.

There’s his uncle himself, lingering wisps of his Force signature threaded through the island’s.

There’s the call, the darkness that beckons to him so much like Snoke once did.

“Why?” Ben asks on their fourth night, curled into Rey’s side with a heavy arm slung across her waist as she combs her fingers through his hair. “Why did you bring me here?”

Rey is his only source of comfort on this island, his only beacon in the darkness, and yet she’s the one who pushes him closer and closer to the dark, gaping hole in the earth every morning, the one who makes him retrace his uncle’s steps and meditate where he became one with the Force.

“Did you know that he cut himself off from the Force?” she tells him instead of offering him an answer. “He knew where he’d gone wrong, he knew what the way forward was, but he also knew that he wasn’t the one meant for that path.”

“If not the great Luke Skywalker,” Ben mutters into the folds of her nightshirt, “then who?”

She pulls herself up against the stone wall, waits for him to look up at her. “Us,” Rey says, as if it’s as simple as that. “It’s our path, Ben. Together. My Light and your Dark, my Dark and your Light – that’s how we’re going to move forward. That’s the future we’re going to build, so that it lasts this time.”

He wants to scoff at whatever bantha shit his uncle’s filled her head with, wants to despair at the shining, misplaced hope in her eyes, but… “Balance,” Ben hears himself whispering instead, a seed of hope planted in his mind by the island itself.

“Balance,” Rey agrees with a smile, and leans down to press their lips together.

Blood still rushes in his ears whenever he kisses his wife, his heartbeat still picks up so fast that it becomes a thud-thud-thud that drowns out nearly everything except for the demands of the Light, the whispers of the Dark–

But this time, this time it all comes together: the Light and the Dark, Rey and him, his love and his fear and his hopes and his regrets, all bound together in the Force until they become one single, sustained note that rings out into the night, fading slowly into silence and nothingness.

And in that silence, in the space between nothing and everything, Ben Solo finally knows peace.

I’m not exactly sure what this is, but I don’t hate it so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

I know the prompt pretty much screams “post-coital bliss”, but that felt a bit sacrilegious to me so I went with this instead. Well, that and my continued inability to smut. If you’d like to go ahead and assume that the last few paragraphs are my very flowery and indirect way of saying they got it on... sure, why not? But believe it or not, that actually wasn’t my intention when I wrote it.

However you choose to look at this ficlet, I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading, and please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment.