#besides the fever and pain ​my man was in severe emotional distress

[concussed-to-pieces]

Whether It Works Out Or Not: Winter’s Cold, Part Two

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: Thank you all so much for being here! Enjoy!

[Spoiler warning for the epilogue!]

Tag List: @huliabitch​​ @cookiethewriter​​ @pedrosbigdorkenergy​​ @thirstworldproblemss​​ @anonymouscosmos​​ @culturalrebel​​ @karmezii​​ @teaofpeach​​ @crookedmoonsaultpunk​​ @wrestlingfae​​ @zombiexbody​​ @nelba​​ @scribblenotes76​​ @toxiicpop​​ @mstgsmy​​ @misty-possum​​ @gallowsjoker​​ @midnightbeauty35​​ @lackofhonor​​ @renegademustelid​​ @missfronkensteen​ @newplanetshine

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

Bonus Two: Back In The Cage

Winter’s Cold, Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains emotional distress and self-loathing. Stay safe!]

The first time Arthur really felt...aware, like he was actually inhabiting his body instead of floating above and slightly to the right of it, he realized that he could hear chirping birds. A breeze stirred his hair; there must be a window open nearby. 

  It dawned on him after several moments that he could breathe. It still hurt, it pained him, but he wasn't hacking and wheezing every second. Dread flooded his soul then; either he was dead, or the law was in the process of meting out the rope for his noose. Bit of a raw deal for all those hellfire preachers if eternal damnation was only some downright mild discomfort (at least after everything else) and a lazy little breeze.

  His whole body still felt like it weighed too much to move. The idea of opening his eyes was a distant, faint notion; barely a fledgling consideration in the back of his mind. Arthur was more than content to lay just wherever it was that he had fallen, sunshine wavering in dappled patches across the insides of his eyelids.

  He dimly noticed that fabric was covering his mouth and nose. A bandanna, or some kind of mask? To keep him from spreading the infection, he surmised pragmatically. Through the material wafted a scent from his childhood, the alive smell of freshly-cured hay. Beneath it was the ever-present odor of manure, the crisp tingle of pine. So he must be in the mountains somewhere. 

  Odd. Last he knew, he was being shipped off to the city to be read his last rites. Had they decided to let him convalesce in the wilderness, drag him back from the clutches of death and then set his backside afore the law?

  Very odd indeed. But then again, justice had always been more of a performance than a true enforcement of moral integrity.

  I sound like Dutch.

  He drifted off again. Just thinking was exhausting, like wading through swamp mud.

  More medicine. Balm for his chest. A stew, lip of the bowl pressed to his mouth so he could slowly slurp it up. Rich, meaty broth, soothing his throat. How many days had it been?

  He couldn't even bring himself to move when he felt the familiar press of a flat blade against his neck. Hot water soaking into his skin, a warm cloth moving in circles to scrub away whatever grime was around his nose and mouth. The person was meticulous, sure strokes carefully ridding the man of the stubble he harbored on his face. How long had it been since he shaved?

  Christ alive, Arthur was tired. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to live or not. This caretaker, whoever they were, clearly wasn't letting him go without a fight. But he was so tired. 

  He wavered for what felt like a lifetime, hovering at the edge of eternity in the green fragrance of curing hay. It was safe here, at any rate. Nothing would harm him in this peaceful tomb. He could rest until he began to feel like he was in control of his body again, and one fateful day, Arthur Morgan finally realized that he wanted to see how much worse living could manage to be.

  His eyes opened slowly, squinting against the near-blinding illumination of sunset that played pink against the unfinished beams over his head. Lord, just doing that much had taken the wind out of his sails. Maybe he was already dead. 

  His eyes rolled shut wearily, blinking open again what felt like moments later to find the place dark. Night had fallen. Time was slipping past him, it would seem. There was a faint taste in his mouth: venison stew with wild carrots, if he had to guess. He didn't even remember eating.

  He squinted in the blackness, trying to force his eyes to adjust so he could at least take in his surroundings before he lost consciousness again. 

  Hay. Everywhere. He appeared to be in a loft of some kind, bales stacked neatly all around the tick he laid on. Night sounds filtered in through the open window, bats squeaking and the booming call of an owl telling him that the hour must indeed be late. 

  Arthur lapsed back into senselessness once more. He dreamed of hearing violin music and catching sight of a massive, pale buck through the window. It watched him from a far-off hillside, ears flicking back and forth to catch every sound. 

  He dreamed of Irene. Her smile, her eyes, the kisses in the tent that they had shared...

  Maybe, maybe sat like a block of lead in his gut. 'Maybe' was all he had ever had. A chance, a mirage. Pretty words from men and women who had made him feel useful, needed.

  So he had poured from himself until he was empty and it still hadn't been enough. 

  He was a fool. What was it that Irene had said to Jamie? "I'm not letting anyone else dig my grave and usher me into it." 

  Arthur, in contrast, had practically handed Dutch the shovel on a silver platter.

  I gave you all I had.

  …

  He was aware that someone was nearby, and he managed to open his eyes again for a brief moment. Long enough for him to hallucinate that it was Irene tending to him, Irene giving him whatever horrendous medicine it was and washing away the bitter taste with hot soup and small sips of tea. He must truly be long gone, mad with delirium or fever or the consumption that had wracked his chest until he felt paper-thin. 

  How would she even be here? How would that have even happened? There was no way. 

  Arthur almost loathed himself for choosing to live at that moment, because he was clearly missing a few more screws. He knew that some agues raged so strong they could burn the brain right out of a man and he feared that was the case with him. 

  Not that he'd had much brain to lose in the first place.

  Christ, he did wish she was here. He wished he could take her hand and never let her go again. 

  Allowing her leave that final time was a regret that had haunted him even more prominently than his bitter failure with Mary, for all that he knew there was nothing he could have done to make her stay with him. Irene had been on her own too long, flown too far and high to ever be tied down to some old, miserable bastard again.

  Mary had come to know him under false pretenses, and she had never truly reconciled herself with it. In a way, Arthur hadn't either. He had known she wasn't his from the very beginning, had known that he was playing a part or living a lie whenever he was with her. It never would have worked out, and it never did. 

  But Irene, despite their deceptive start, came to him with a certain honesty. The haphazard performance of masculinity had done little to hide her true nature, the kindness that she claimed to see in him so freely displayed in her as well. It also didn't hide the burdens she carried, though he hadn't understood the sadness in 'Frank's' eyes when they had spoken.

  The trials she had gone through...he at least had the gang, but she was wholly alone. She had endured, like a pine tree rooted on a crumbling and wind-whipped bluff. Storms of life howling all around and yet…

  And yet, when he had last seen her, she had held herself proudly in Lemieux's mansion, unshaken. The guts and wherewithal that had seen her thus far would continue, and Arthur had wished her nothing but the finest of luck even as he had sent her on her way. 

  …

  There were folded clothes on the floor beside him when next he stirred, and on top of them was a note. Arthur had no idea how long it took him to sit up, never mind move his arm, manipulate his fingers into picking the note up, unfold the note to read it…

  Lord, living certainly seemed to require a lot of steps. 

  Arthur,

Not sure if you'll really be awake today, but I've noticed you moving around a bit of your own volition. Left the clothes in case you feel up to getting dressed. I am uncertain if you'll recall, so I'll remind you that the waste bucket is in the far corner.

  The note was unsigned.

  Arthur huffed out a breath, clearing his throat experimentally. He reached for the union suit on the top of the pile, planting his face in the article of clothing with a groan as his head suddenly felt too heavy to support. "C'mon Morgan." He encouraged himself, the words thick in his mouth. Shit, how long had he been out for? It was like he had forgotten how to speak.

  Just pulling the suit up and over his legs was a task of Herculean proportions. Arthur doggedly kept fighting the urge to pass out, the desire to lay back down and let time zip by again. He had made the choice to live and by God, he would follow through with it even if it killed him.

  The longer he worked at getting dressed, the easier it became to keep his eyes open. Socks on over the suit, shirt, pants. His suspenders hung limp at his sides, but he did tuck in his shirt as best as he could after he relieved himself. 

  Boots. Boots, one tipped over on the space beside the ladder, the other within reach of the bed.

  Next, climbing down the ladder. Mercifully the loft was not particularly high. The whole barn seemed rather small as far as barns went, obviously originally built with one stall. A second one appeared to have been hastily grafted onto the building at a later time. 

  Arthur had to take a breather at the base of the ladder, clinging to it just to keep his balance. His knees felt like they were made out of jelly. Had his boots always been this damn heavy?!

  He floundered onward after a moment, grateful for his hat as he emerged into the blinding sunlight of the outside world. 

  Arthur rubbed his eyes, nearly losing his footing as he did so. He had already been uncertain of the reality of his current situation, and this idyllic scene in front of him wasn't helping matters! 

  A small paddock stretched out on the left, and a cozy-looking cabin was nestled into the green, flower-dappled glen alongside the barn he had just emerged from. Arthur staggered to the paddock fence for support, draping himself over it. From the shadow by the barn, a shape stirred. He forced himself to focus on it, his eyes widening when the horse meandered lazily out into the sunlight to graze.

  "Chase!" Arthur rasped, his voice rough and cracking from disuse. The mare's head jerked up and she looked around. His heart leaped in his chest when she whinnied excitedly at him, trotting across the paddock and bumping her nose against his chest. Arthur held her tightly, cupping her muzzle and scratching beneath her jaw. "That's my sweet girl, my good girl." He murmured, feeling foolish for getting choked up. 

  There was an explosive snort to his right and a familiar pink nose snuffled over his shoulder. Arthur squinted, turning his head to the side and realizing that it was Bluster. The horse whickered, mouthing at the sleeve of his shirt. 

  Arthur Morgan was speechless. He must be dead. How else could he have his horse, and Irene's horse besides? He sat there mutely for God only knew how long, just petting Chase with his eyes closed to luxuriate in the sensation of sun on his skin. 

  Behind him, the wind carried faint sounds to his ears, and he flinched when he caught a child's high-pitched squeal of laughter. Just where the hell was he, if he was indeed alive? What buffoon would nurse someone like him back to health, yet leave him unbound and unguarded? Something was very odd about this whole scenario.

  Arthur turned and leaned back on the fence, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun as he looked up at the ridge of the glen. There was an abrupt flash of motion to the left on the edge of the gully, and he watched a woman that he desperately wanted to recognize chase after a child. The little one was fairly shrieking with mirth, scurrying away from their pursuer until they flopped down dramatically and allowed themselves to be caught.

  It felt like his heart had left his body, the damn thing soaring and shattering all at once. A girl, it was a little girl, her hair the color of a pale buck. Irene scooped the child up, laughing breathlessly and tossing her into the air before spinning the two of them in a dizzying circle. 

  Irene.

  Arthur swallowed hard. Fate was indeed a cruel mistress if this was the vision he was greeted with upon making his decision to live! He continued to just slouch against the fence, silently observing the duo as they frolicked at the top of the ridge. Irene had flowers in her hair just like she had at the Mayor's little soiree, and he realized dimly that her dark brown curls were much longer. Just how much time had he lost?

  He finally mustered up the strength to wave at them and he liked to think that Irene went still out of happiness. In a moment she caught the child up and fairly bolted down the hillside, her skirt hiked around her knees as she ran. 

  "Arthur!" 

  Christ, Christ he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for the sight of her with a babe on her hip, the agony of maybe, maybe that ripped at his insides. In another life, it might have been his child that she had been playing with. In another life, this might have been the home that they had built together.

  But instead, she had gone on and made a fruitful existence without him. He couldn't, wouldn't blame her for it. He had cut her loose, after all.

  Irene came to a halt inches away, her chest rising and falling from the effort of her sprint. "Y-You--you're up!" She panted, her smile burying itself in his ribs like a blade. Christ, his heart was too weak for this.

  The child in Irene's arms gawked up at him with crystal blue eyes and he tried to muster up a smile, startled when Irene embraced him tightly. He felt her fingers dig into his back, and then her shoulders quivered while she buried her face in his chest. "Oh no, c'mon now Miss Irene." Arthur said hoarsely. "I ain't worth all that fuss, it's okay."

  ...

  "Mama?" Anna asked tentatively. "Mama okay?"

  "Mama's fine, love." Irene managed to say, kissing her child's forehead. "Just very happy is all. You remember my friend Mister Arthur, right?"

  "Sick." Anna replied, her attempt at a fake cough making Arthur chuckle. "Better now?"

  "I'd reckon so, little miss." The man drawled hoarsely. God, that voice. Irene hadn't realized just how much she had missed him. She had seen him every day, of course, nursing him back to health, but he hadn't been conscious for most of it. "S'pose I have your mama to thank for that."

  Irene noticed him glancing over her shoulder, like he was expecting someone else to show up. "Your friend, Mister Trelawny--"

  Arthur chuffed out a breath through his nose, making Anna giggle. "Friend? Man's a cockroach in a waistcoat." He groused.

  "Yes, he mentioned that the two of you may not be as close as he posited. Nonetheless, it's thanks to him that you're here now, alive."

  "Really. Huh. So I am alive, then. I wasn't shoah. This place is…" Arthur gestured vaguely around. "S'beautiful, Miss Irene." His tone was melancholy. "Like a dream."

  "I'd like to think I chose well, Mister Arthur. It hasn't been easy, but the two of us have made it work." Irene said proudly, nuzzling her nose against Anna's. "My tough little frontierwoman."

  "Just...what, you an' the baby?" Arthur asked, his confusion evident. 

  "Yes. Who else would there be?" Irene replied with her own question, brow furrowed. Arthur blinked down at her. His eyes darted momentarily to Anna, and Irene bit her lip, wondering whether he would put it together immediately. 

  "I-I jus'...I figured there might be a third person, is all." Arthur stammered. 

  Irene couldn't help her sad smile, shaking her head at him and extending an arm. "Come inside, Arthur. It's nearly suppertime anyways."

  It was so strange, finally having him in the main room of her little house. She had thought about this scenario more times than she could count. Just the walk across the front yard thoroughly tired him out, and the man seemed more than content to doze in one of the kitchen chairs while she put the finishing touches on the evening meal. Obviously it would take time and care for him to regain even a fraction of his former strength. He had been bedridden, or something close to it, for nearly five months!

  Anna played noisily on the floor with a few carved horses that Irene had made for her when she was teething, their forms scored with scrapes and marks from the event. The child didn't seem apprehensive about the large man currently nodding off in the chair by the table, which had Irene feeling hopeful. Maybe, just maybe…

  "Dinnertime." She said softly, "put away your toys, love." 

  Anna pouted, holding up a finger. "One?" She bargained, clutching her 'favorite' horse to her chest. "One for Art'ur." 

  "Oh it's for Arthur now, is it?" Irene teased, wiping her hands off on her apron. "Go on then, you scallywag."

  The little girl fairly beamed, placing the horse with a laughable amount of care alongside Arthur's arm. Then, she impatiently bounced in place as Irene fetched the riser for her chair so she would be level with the table when she sat. 

  "Ah ah, go wash up! You know the rules." Irene instructed the eager child, sending her on her way to the porch.

  "She is just the cutest damn thing." Arthur mumbled, almost like he was talking to himself. His fingers idly played along the curves of the little horse by his fork. "How old is she?" 

  "A touch over two. She was born during the winter." Irene watched Arthur nod absently, and what she was about to say got caught in her throat as Anna toddled back inside.

  Arthur accepted the coffee Irene poured him with all the gratitude in the world, his eyes closing in enjoyment as he took his first sip. "Ah, that's good," he sighed. "Ain't nothin' like a decent cup of coffee. Feel like life is comin' back to me."

  "Well, don't forget to save room for dinner." Irene buttered Anna a little piece of bread and scooted it across the table to keep her occupied while she loaded two plates with corn, mashed potatoes and a spoonful of precious pork gravy from tomorrow's slow-cooking dinner. "Corn is Anna's favorite, right love?"

  Anna nodded, blue eyes wide as she munched on her bread. "Mine!" She announced sharply, scrunching up her nose when Arthur chuckled at her. 

  "Sweeting, be polite. There's more than enough for all of us, you know that!" Irene chided her daughter, rumpling the little girl's hair fondly after she placed Arthur's plate in front of him. "Always enough here." 

  Anna's plate, as usual, required a bit more preparing, so she brought it along with her own to her chair beside the child. Anna immediately started digging into the mashed potatoes as her mother carefully shucked the kernels off the cob in neat rows. "Th'nk y'Mama." Anna said through a mouthful of food.

  "You're welcome Anna, but slow down. No one will take it from you." With a touch of amusement Irene noticed Arthur visibly slow his pace in response, the man obviously used to wolfing his food. "Drink your water, Anna."

  Arthur ate mainly in silence, aside from a few appreciative grunts. He couldn't contain his laughter when Anna started to imitate his sounds, the man apologizing for his poor table manners. "Forgive me, Miss Irene, I've always been awful at eatin' in the presence of polite company." 

  "Mama says I'm a little piggy." Anna informed Arthur, seeming confused when he burst out laughing again. 

  "If you're a li'l piggy, Miss Anna, then I must be the biggest boar alive." He said once he managed to rein himself in. 

  …

  Arthur lingered on the front steps, the lantern in his hand ready to light his way back across the yard. He felt exhausted, stuffed with good food and more than ready to get a full night's rest.

  So what was he waiting for?

  Many thoughts had gone through his head during dinner. How beautiful Irene still looked, how good of a mother she clearly was. Anna was a precocious little thing, those blue eyes bright with the possibility of mischief. 

  Her eyes…

  Arthur didn't dare to hope that one of he and Irene's little diversions had borne fruit, if only because it would throw into question his oh-so-noble attempts at prevention. Had he truly tried as hard as he could to be safe, or was there always that selfish desire in the back of his mind waiting to be acted upon?

  He jumped guiltily when the door opened and Irene stepped out, half-turning to face her with a brittle grin. "Howdy ma'am. Little one safely abed, I take it?"

  "After a bit of deliberation, yes." Irene sighed, her posture weary. "She's very opinionated for someone who cannot manage eating a carrot unless it has been sliced into wheels. I do fear for the future, Arthur."

  The future.

  Arthur cleared his throat. "Irene, is...did we…?"

  She put a hand on his shoulder, silencing his stammering with a sad little smile. "Later, Arthur. Right now, rest is what you need."

  He wanted to deny that, but it was fairly impossible to do so. He was nearly asleep standing up as it was. "Tomorrow?" He bargained through a yawn.

  "Tomorrow. I promise."

Summer’s Warmth, Part One

[yanderedbh-moved]

H/C

Just a handful of Hurt/Comfort prompts for each character because H/C is literally my crack. A sort of post in the same vein as this one I made earlier. Requests are open, though if you want me to expand on, or write more from any of these ideas.

Connor

The pain of sitting at your bedside and watching as someone he once knew as a reliable and capable partner is forced to ask for assistance to get a drink. You’re recovering from sustaining damages from a past mission. Currently, you’re too weak to so much as lift a glass of water.

The two of you out in the field together, in the thick of battle. He notices you’ve taken damage and can’t help but ask if you need to leave, to go rest up. You tell him you’re strong enough to continue the fight, and he believes you. It’s only several days later that he notices the bandages under your clothing and is overcome with the guild of not pulling you out of the situation.

Before now, Connor always saw whimpering as cowardly, something no decent fighter would do, even with their dying breath. But watching you on the ground, writhing in pain causes him an awful kind of pain he’s never known before.

Markus

You blackout during a fight, and for fear of losing you, Markus carried you out of danger himself. The risk was too significant to ever lose you, and it wasn’t one he anticipated on taking. Now you’ve awoken in a place you’ve never seen before with no idea how you got there, the confusion almost as intense as your physical pain.

His famous bridal carry.

Markus watching the way you’re severely bandaged up and limping around after a battle. He knows you willingly gave everything you could to help support him in the fight, but still, he can’t help but feel responsible for this.

Kara

On the run together, you’re cornered and need to think fast to make it out alive. On a split-second decision, Kara decides to try and save time by leading you over a rooftop where she believes the two of you won’t be spotted. Only to her horror though she turns around to make sure you’re still following her, only to feel her heartbreak as she watches one of the people below shoot up at you, causing you to flinch, lose your footing and fall.

Despite wanting to be the strong one here, Kara has a bleeding heart. And even though she worries she’ll look weak because of this, Kara can’t help but wince when you’re in pain, stuck in bed, unable to help yourself.

Kara shushing Alice. And keeps the poor young girl from crying over the sight of something she’s too young to have seen.

Hank

The two of you sitting all alone in a hospital room together. This is your first time sustaining severe damage from a mission. In this case, several abrasions of the skin which required stitches to patch up, but the real issue here, your broken ribs. He’s been in your shoes, and he just wants to do whatever he can to make you feel better. There’s nothing he can do to numb the pain you feel coughing for the first time with broken ribs, and he can’t help but flinch in remembering the pain.

After an unsuccessful mission, you’re in the worst pain you’ve ever felt, gunshot wounds and other bodily trauma leave you immobilized with pain. An ambulance in on its way, but now, there are no painkillers to numb the pain. The most Hank can offer is a few sips of whiskey he had in the back of his car to comfort you.

Luther

Imagine you’re escaping Zlatko with Kara. The two of you are doing the best you can to keep each other out of harm’s way, and when Luther is on your side, it becomes all the easier. The lot of you are so nearly out of harm’s way, and safety is so close you let your guard down for just a minute. In that time, you are struck by the bear you never even knew about. Luther and Kara do their best to get you away, but the damage is done. Luther can’t help but hate the way he knew about the bear, but still, wasn’t able to protect you from it, and because of that, your blood is on his hands here.

His deep voice doing the best he can to comfort you with an “Easy now, it’s alright, I’m here, just relax, everything will be ok.”

Luther doesn’t even need to say anything at all sometimes. His knowing, kind, and empathetic gaze is the one thing you can understand in your hazy painful current state of mind.

North

North was never one to shy away from even the most intense of conflict and would throw herself headfirst into battle in the name of defending her friends and her cause. Unfortunately, this means she saw first hand the way a single critical hit downed you, leaving it up to her to remove you from the situation. Sitting there beside you North is almost too afraid to touch you, fearing any contact would only cause you more distress. The most she can offer you here is to gently push the hair from your forehead, which is stuck in place by sweat.

North yelling other people to stay away from you, tears in her eyes, emotions straining her voice. You’re hurt and in need, but she doesn’t trust anyone but herself to look after you.

You knew if you were an android, she wouldn’t hesitate to end her own life in the name of saving your own. There is no cost too high for her to give up to you, sadly this just won’t work. And as you lay, bleeding out below her, there is nothing she can do to save you. All she can do now is provide what little fleeting comfort she can for you in your final moments.

Simon

He may already be regarded as one of the gentlest members of Jericho, but when it comes to handling you while you’re wounded, Simon would practically treat you like you were made of glass.

There are no painkillers he can offer you while in Jericho, and Simon knows it wouldn’t be worth it to leave your side to go out and try to find them. All he can do now is hold you and pray your pain passes swiftly, and it won’t be long until you’re back in commission.

He’s fighting a war, pain, death, and sacrifice is a part of his daily life. For the most part, Simon thinks he’s accepted this as the way things are, but when he watches you get caught in a deadly crossfire, Simon is affronted by a fear he’s never known before.

Josh

If he were to lose you, the one person he cared about the most amid a violent raid, it would really stick out as a somewhat ironic kind of heartbreak. Like it’s nothing short of tragic that the one who opposed violence so aggressively ended up losing so much on account of it.

He knows if you’re in rough condition, he must do his best to keep in control to make sure you survive this, but he feels so weak and overwhelmed here. Josh can’t stop his hands from shaking as he does his best to dress your wounds to the best of his ability.

While he knows you can’t hear him, Josh mutters over and over again that he promises never to leave your side while you’re murmuring nonsense in a fevered daze. Josh is doing the best he can to keep you awake, and to keep you from falling asleep on him because he knows how dangerous it would be to let you fall asleep now.

Kamski

You’re stuck in bed after contracting a severe illness. You feel as though all the strength has left your body, and the world around you feels muted and bleary. What you don’t see here is that even though there’s no way you see him now, Elijah refuses to leave your room. He has every confidence you’ll find the strength within yourself to carry on, but for now, he wouldn’t dare abandon you like this.

Kamski, the man usually so slow to offer any kind of physical comfort holding you as tight as he can. You’ve just awoken from an awful nightmare and are still coming to your senses, without any other idea of what to do, Elijah holds you close, doing his best to show you’re safe here, there’s nothing to worry about while you’re at his side.

Gavin

One without much medical experience or information personally the most he would know how to do after watching your body fall to the ground after suffering a nasty blow is to try and frantically find a plus, or to check if you’re still breathing. But still, if he can’t find those things, there’s no promising he’ll know how to handle the situation from there.

Gavin would basically turn into your personal guard dog while you’re in recovery. He wouldn’t want anyone alone with you while you’re in such a condition, there’s no way anyone’s getting to you without going through him first.

If it were a group mission, there were more than just the two of you imagine how much more awful the situation if you were downed by a gunshot. Gavin really wants to do his best here and to remove the bullet from you. However, another member of the party would have no choice but to step in and force him to stop. On account of the way Gavin’s rough, unexperienced movements were only hurting you further.

Ralph

While keeping you in his home as a hostage, your body begins to lose the fight against the cold exposure and lack of sustenance. Even though you’re trying to keep your distance from him, you lose focus and faint. Not understanding the situation, Ralph fears you’ve actually died.

This abandoned house, so drafty and frigid and cold. Without any sunlight to provide a source of light or warmth, you fear this night will never end. The only source of comfort here is to huddle in close with Ralph. Try to fight off the cold any way you can.

Ralph wants to be a secure provider for you. Especially while you’re sick and stuck in bed, unfortunately for him, there is no way for him to stay strong when he looks at the way you appear so weak in bed. Something about the way your body seems so weak and helpless leaves Ralph fearing the worse for you.

Daniel

The two of you were out late, all alone one night. Not harboring any commitments to any but each other, the two of you decided to have a little fun and investigate the secret and abandoned area of Detroit. Finding a small stream nearly frozen over the two of you have a little fun messing around, threatening to push each other in, or. Accident strikes, and as the two of you are leaving, you slip and hit your head against one of the hard rocks around the pond. Daniel feels his heart skip a beat. He never imagined something so innocent would turn so morbid, and he’s left at a loss for what to do but hold you close, and beg that you don’t leave him here all alone.

Daniel wishing he wasn’t programmed to be something as weak as a house servant whenever you’re suffering from a bout of anxiety at home. He wanted to promise you he’ll be strong enough to protect you no matter what. However, on account of what he is, Daniel can’t help but hate the way he feels so inadequate, especially around other androids.

Imagine him softly singing you a lullaby to calm you down in a time of distress. While this tactic may only be intended for children, it’s what Daniel knows to work. And because of that, Daniel loves to hold you close and softly coo a little melody to keep you calm and to help you find comfort.

Nines

The two of you on a mission together, after taking damage from the opposition, you’re officially downed. Nines want more than anything to take you out of danger and get you to safety, but for the moment, he can’t. The only thing he can do now is force you to keep quiet to keep from being discovered.

You try your best to hide an injury from him. The last thing you want is to appear weak in front of your partner, but he knows better. Nines read you instantly and without hesitation demands an explanation for what happened to you.

It’s an inconvenient bother to Nines to see you in pain. The only thing worse than this, of course, would be Nines delivering the pain to you himself. Imagine his nightmare scenario here. He’s forced to perform an impromptu bullet removal on you while in the heat of ganger. As the only one with the necessary level of competence, he’s no choice but to hurt you all the more in the name of hopefully keeping the bullet from killing you.

(Edit: I did my best to provide everyone with three original and unique prompts, but upon editing, I do realize how similar many of these sound, I feel kinda mixed about how this one turned out, but I hope this was a pleasant read for you!)

[backseat-imagines]

I hope an assassin series will be a hit! ;) What if the future s/o of the guys (and cor/titus cause I got crushes on them too lmao) were sent by their enemies to kill them but eventually they fall in love in the process?

I hope so too! But then again it’s a fantastic idea so it already is in my book!Also sorry for the time it took. I’ve been here doing this one and I can’t tell you how many times I would go back and rework this and rework and rework and- you get the idea!But seeing as how this scenario has ALL SIX of these characters, it is very long so I will go ahead and put this under a readmore as to hopefully not eat up too much dash space!

  There was a long period of time where Noctis was always tired and sick. At first everyone thought it was maybe a small, contagious illness that he had caught running through the various towns. However they quickly ruled it out when it never spread.   They thought maybe even a case of food poisoning. But yet again only Noctis had been the only one in the entire party that was affected by this. Surely if it was something like food poisoning then it would have hit more affected more in the group, and it wouldn’t have lasted for so long.  The illness hit severe points and several of times it nearly rendered him useless, meaning he was nearly entirely bedridden on multiple occasions (if he wasn’t as stubborn as he is then he likely would have been).  Every now and then it seemed like they were making headway on his sickness. Patches would come in where his fever was down, vomiting far less and able to keep food down, more energetic. But those were always short lived.  And every single time sickness would rear it’s head up- it was always worse than ever before.   Noctis, who remained as stubborn as a Dualhorn, would still refuse to go and be checked over it; saying that he was fine, and that he didn’t need nagged and watched over like he was some child. That he would be over it in no time.  In the meantime, as he fought through hellish fevers (and the night terrors that came with them) and the pain and grossness of it all, he was grateful to still have everyone by his side; both friends and partner.   Gladio would carry him, Prompto would offer to do anything the Prince needed, Ignis was primarily helping him as best as he could in regards to health, and his partner took care of his food and helped clean up after any messes left behind; they all took care of him.  Most of all he was grateful for the fact his partner remained by his side. His friends were used to seeing him at some of his worst, but they were childhood friends. So the fact that they did handle him at his absolute worst of this- well, he figured they were a keeper.  But the one thing he hadn’t known about his partner, something they hid well, was they were never there to help him- no. They were here to claim his life, and they were slowly poisoning it out of him.  At first they took glee in their mission; watching someone who would have been a regal king fall to a state so pitiful and pathetic was almost a delight to them and his suffering served as fuel in the beginning. And every time the group thought he was getting better it was nothing more than them letting him recover just so they could enjoy the cycle being started once more.  However as the time went on things began to change. The more time they spent around him, the more fond they grew. Even when his guts were ready to exit one end or another… he didn’t seem so charmless after all.   Their fondness of him was starting to get to a point where it was making it hard to carry through with the job, where finally it was starting to hurt them more than anything. So they chose a night. It would be the night, the one where it would finally end- they were finally going to overdose him on the poison that they had been spoon-feeding him with this whole time.  Except they didn’t… When the night had come, they couldn’t keep a steady hand or a steady head.  No more. This had to end.  Miraculously Noctis’s illness started to fade, and things went back to how they should have been.  Truly it was a miracle!  And never once did he know. At least not back then. It wasn’t until far later in life that he discovered. Old files left from the Empire that was presented to him. Not something that was entirely unusual. Though the Niflheim’s was no more, things such as this could be useful for the future. After all the best means of prevention was learning from history. But this time it was different.   Included in the files was something he had never expected. As he cracked it opened he was face with a familiar name and an image.  “What?” He was stunned. Noctis hoped that this was a fever dream of sorts, that it wasn’t real. But the pages felt so real has he looked through them, finding information of old mission and the summaries of his, and where they were later labeled M.I.A.  In that moment he felt like the world was ripped right out from under his feet, just as his trust for them was ripped from under theirs.   Could this really be true? But how- why?  The more he looked into it, and the more he thought about it, the more a lot of things began to make since. From their sudden appearance, down to his health declining for a while for some time after meeting them.   As much as it filled him with every kind of negative emotion, right to his very brim, hit bit his tongue and he held the secret close to him. This was a matter to deal with for him and him alone; behind closed doors and with no one to intervene in his questioning. He strode down the halls and stormed into the room they currently presided in, slamming the door open and then shut behind himself.   Before they even so much as had a chance to greet him, he spoke. His voice loud and booming, “What is the meaning of this?”  “What do you-” He tossed down the proof on the table right beside them. The file open and everything staring them in the face.   “Explain yourself.”  Their heart sank and immediately the began to shrink down into themselves; head lowered and their arms raised in front of themselves, fingers fidgeting together.  “Noctis that was a long time ago-”  “I said explain yourself.”  Doesn’t matter what they say or what excuse they use. Nothing will change the torment they gave to him and what they nearly got away with.  If they were lucky, then exile would be the best gift a situation like this could have to offer them.

——————————————–

  Ignis was a sharp man, and he was able to make fools of most. Even if he didn’t intentionally set out to do so. And that’s exactly what he did to them.  There was a pretty penny in it if they nabbed the group. More so alive than dead, though either option was good. But then there was a slight kink in the works.  Once, they had stayed back; watching and observing the group from afar as they schemed. It became apparent who had caught their attention the most.  They kept a close eye on Ignis, studied him in fact. He was careful and cautious, always watching their backs and seemed to be prepared for everything, including the unexpected- especially the unexpected- and he would be hard to slip by for certain.   The way he fought was certainly a sight to behold. He was a quick one, his daggers near relentless as he pressed forward. But he was also a graceful one; whether in his spear-work and how he could balance himself at the top of it, or how he could backflip his way out of the middle of a pack of monsters while free of fear.   Every last detail of him they took in; how he walked and talked, finding the reasoning for his logic and the patterns behind them, how he laughed, down to noticing all the freckles on his face, the back of his neck and on the rest of any skin he would expose.  Before they ever even had a chance to realize it, infatuation had set it. And when it did that’s when the desire to get closer set in. So that’s what they did.   They approached the group, under the guise of hunter who was coming to their rescued. And by luck they managed to talk their way into accompanying the boys.  And boy that was a mistake- infatuation turned into being lovestruck…  All of the sudden they went from feeling like one of the world’s strongest to feeling as helpless as a chocobo chickling; they weren’t even as quick on their feet anymore now that they always seemed occupied and distracted.   And it was all thanks to Ignis.  The longer this went on, the harder it was becoming. Capturing the whole group would be difficult to the point of impossibility, and killing the entire party was out of the question too. Because killing Ignis was out of the question.   However, because that was going to be a no-go that meant killing the others would be too. It was too risky to get caught with the blood of his friends on their hands. And lord knows their plan of having an ‘accident’ happen in a battle wasn’t going through either.   But nobody was any of any of the wiser to that. Not until…  Ignis thought their behavior to be strange; They became fidgety and more secretive all of the sudden, but it was very slight and minor. Of course it was going to be harder for the others to pick up on but Ignis notices the small things. He trailed off after them, careful to not be seen (especially since they were checking behind themselves frequently; paranoid, even, he would say) until they found a more ‘private’ spot… And in came a call.  “Yes, reporting.” -Reporting? To whom?- A curious thing, indeed. “Not yet. Out of the question. It’s within grasp, but only within certain limits. I would only be able to nab one or two if I was careful. All of them is asking for the impossible. Not unless you let me call in anot- what do you mean?” Before, when they spoke, they tried to keep it hushed. But now their voice was starting to raise; distressed, displeased, even anger was slipping into their tone. “Pull back? Forget the dut- you’re not- Don’t you count me in as a failure without giving me mor- If that’s what you wish… Just realize that where I can’t go, I can make sure you won’t be able to reach for the services of many others too. No, not a threat, but a guarantee. Goodbye.”  As soon as they clicked the button to end the call, Ignis tsked and walked out from behind his hiding spot, “And what do we have here?”  The sound of his voice caught them off guard and made them jump, “Ignis!” They gasp.  And sure enough when they turned around it was him in the flesh- instead of some random person who sounded similar like they had hoped. “So you heard then?”  “And whatever could it have been about, I wonder.” He hums out lowly.  Ignis crosses his arms. A glare so rooted in anger and distrust falls over them.  “You don’t have to say a word,” He says over their silence. “I can venture a good guess.”  “Ignis…”  In hopes of quelling some of his anger (and also partly due to fondness for him) they opened up to him. However it didn’t matter how much they explained, or how they tried to soften the situation; Ignis was still disappointed and galled. Of course. “So that’s all… I don’t suppose you all need a shadow amongst you all still? Could be reeeeal handy.”  “I think not.” He retorted. “After all this do you really think I could hold any credence in your presence? As it is you’re lucky I am willing to let you go, even only if because your affiliation with them has now ended. But don’t ever let me catch you coming back around if you have any more nefarious plans.”   As saddened as they were to hear his words, they understood.   That’s love for you…

——————————————–

  For the longest while, Gladiolus was being left purposefully in the dark.  They didn’t want him to know just who exactly they were, or who they had been. Or how many times they stood awake in the shadows of the night, right at the bedside, ready to cut open that pretty little throat of his before moving on to the next target of the group.  Maybe they haven’t been apart of the group for long, but that didn’t lessen their feelings or take away their cold feet on the job.   At this point it was being stuck in a hard place; quit the job and hope he never finds out, especially in fear of his temper(they didn’t think he would enjoy this news about a near ‘betrayal’ against the group), or hope what was really happening was a mere infatuation and hoping for it to die down quickly so that they could carry through with the mission.  …Besides, it doesn’t exactly look good for a royal guard to be involved with an assassin meant to murder him and the prince he was meant to protect; that’s a story to never tell future kids.  But secrets have a funny way of getting out.  Late in the night the group had been caught outside by daemons, and the long battle started to cross over into the dawn. An imperial airship flew overhead. They all thought it was more trouble coming their way. But the assumption was wrong, and they were thankful that it was.  Instead of trouble, it was a miracle that came; Aranea Highwind’s righteous spear came jetting down, and she impaled the daemon in it’s head. She struck the final blow.  As the fight ended, some of the boys were thanking her for her help. But Gladio’s newest partner stayed back and tried to avoid being noticed.  “Oh, what’s this?” Aranea turned towards them and stepped forward. Despite trying to avoid the attention they certainly got it. “Didn’t expect to find the emperor’s new toy out this way. Don’t tell me, you got tired of the gig too?”  They shot her a glare. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, you must have the wrong person.”  “Oh, alright. I get you. Nothing more than an ordinary denizen too.” Thinking they were a former assassin rather than still a current one, the ex-imperial officer waved her hand and brushed it all off. “Anyways, it’s about time I got leaving.”  With that, Highwind took her leave and the group went back to business as normal. And before anyone new it the night came back in what felt like minutes.  Camp was set up, and right before they went to head into the tent for needed rest Gladio had pulled them aside. “Meet me at the crack of dawn” he said. But he gave no reason as to why he needed them so immediately in the morning.  They did as requested; keeping an eye on the time, in between short naps, from their phone. And when it was getting close to the right time they got up and exited the tent. And lo and behold, Gladio was already waiting outside the tent for them.   “What’s up? You want to spar again or something?” They ask, yawning.  “No. Wanted to just talk.” He states. “So what was that about yesterday?”  “What was what about?” They already knew what he was referring to. But it didn’t mean they wanted to get into this; not now, now ever. But something in their gut told them that things weren’t going to go their way.  “Don’t play dumb with me. It’s about that woman, and what she said.”  “I don’t know.” They quickly brushed it off and gave a small shrug.  Gladio sighed in frustration. “No, you do. With how casually she addressed you and how you looked at her? You both know each other and I don’t appreciate you trying to lie to me. Spit it out; what did she mean by “emperor’s toy”?”  “I’m not going to be able to go anywhere unless I say something, am I?” They grimaced.  “Absolutely not. Now tell me.” He demanded.  “Fine, but promise me you won’t get mad.”  “I’m not going to make any promises.” Gladio growled out. He could already feel his fuse becoming shorter.  “Then I won’t say.”  “Fine, I’ll bite…” He said, rolling his eyes. “I promise.”  “I’ll be honest with you then. Long-story-short; I’m a hired shadow of the Emperor. And I was sent to kill your group and your Prince.” They bluntly stated.  “You what?” Gladio was first taken aback by surprise, his expression pulling up and his eyes widened in shock, but quickly anger took it’s place. He bared his teeth in a sneer. Angrily, he stomped forward and they immediately took one step back.  “Please, listen to what I have to say!” They pleaded.  “Why the hell should I do that?” He took another step towards them. Or rather stomp… It was already hard enough for him to keep himself from sending his sword their way.  “Please quiet down, I don’t want the others to come.”  “As if that would be a bad thin-”  Frustration filling them to the brim, they finally snapped, “Just shut the hell up and listen to me Gladiolus! Give me one fair shake here!”  “You got two minutes before I decide to take the nearest rock to you.” He growled. He stepped back, his stance tense and rigid and he crossed his arms, tapping a finger impatiently against his own skin.  “Try me and I will defend myself and you’ll be maimed! And believe me I don’t want to do that…” He could see the determination in there eyes that told him they weren’t exactly dishing out an empty threat back at him.  “But the story here is I was taken under the wing of a master assassin and trained by the best himself. Trained for years until I was supposed to be worthy enough to start picking up missions, and then one day we had been approached by a man cloaked in white, and another wearing dark clothes and adorned with scarves and a hat.”  “Ideloas and that creep Izunia.” Gladio chimed up.  “Yep. And he came to us requesting our services. Though my mentor refused it for himself, he still pushed me towards it. Encouraging me to take jobs in high places while I had the chance. Though with the handsome reward being offered, I don’t think I could have ever said no. Deliver the Prince’s head on a platter and I could live my life in luxury without having to worry again. Deliver the rest of you and there would be more as bonus.  “Really, you all were supposed to be my first.” Though in retrospect that seemed strange and almost a terrible idea to let someone who would still technically be a beginner this take on something such as this. But in their head they were thanking their master for believing in their abilities.  “I think I would have preferred being a first for something else entirely,” Gladio chuckled at his own joke before taking up a serious tone again, “You’re not exactly doing a great job on convincing me to not just crack that skull of yours open though.”  “Would I be able to do that if I told you I changed my mind?”  “And you expect me to believe that?” Gladio huffed, “You just said you were being offered all the riches in the world, what the hell could possibly sway you from that?”  “You.”  “What do you mean ‘me’?” He said, cocking his brow.  “Because along the way, you became a bigger treasure than any gem, any amount of gil, or any jewelry. Every night we spent together I found myself melting into you more and more to where now I just look at you and I just sigh dreamily. There’s no price in the world that’s worth giving that up.” A slight blush started to creep up onto their face. They couldn’t believe that they were spilling their heart out and in such a… overly cheesy way. Even harder to believe yet was the bad timing in which they were doing this too.  “And if you were telling the truth-”  “I am.” They interrupted.  “Aren’t you worried about what they will do now?” “No. I was trained by the best.” They answered with nothing but confidence in tone and in the way pointed their chin out, almost giving them a smug look. “Aranea might have found me, but the empire won’t; not unless I want them to.”  “I still don’t fully believe you. But I will give you one chance.” Gladio stepped closer to them, placing his hands on their shoulder and leering directly into their eyes. “Don’t make me regret it.”

——————————————–

  Prompto stares up in horror, in complete and utter disbelief of what’s going on.  He’s on the cold ground, unable to even back away. His poor self is already backed to a wall, and he’s face to face with the sharp, cold steel of a blade.  Prompto wants to shout, he wants to cry out. He wants to plead or yell for help. But every word is getting choked up in his throat and he can’t bring himself out of silence.  The sharp tip was already pointed down between his eyes, he was so heavily focused on it and he watched as it (painfully) slowly rose up. And then the blade started to quickly descend-  Prompto’s eyes clenched shut and he shook- this was it! His life was going to be whisked, and he didn’t even have a chance to look at his love one last time, not as they were the one behind the blade- he looked so much like a frightened child…  Clang  There was a loud, ear-piercing sound that came from beside him. His eyes jolted open. And he saw the weapon laying on the ground. Quickly he turned his attention to the one standing before him, and just in time to see them dropping to their knees.  “I can’t do this…” They say, voice cracking more than the cement in Insomnia after the invasion, “I just can’t.”  They began to soak their hands as they hid their face behind their palms, wetting them with the tears that were quickly becoming out of control. They slumped forward.  Prompto’s immediate reaction was to scramble forward onto his knees and comfort them, trying wrap himself around their shoulders and pull them in. He was still at a loss for words, still in an utter daze, but eventually he managed to get something out. “What’s going on?”  In utter disbelief, they couldn’t believe what he was doing. They just outright attacked him… and he’s still not picking up the gun and aiming at them? He’s not bringing them down while they’re vulnerable? And yet he still- “I can’t do this, I just can’t!”  “Do what?” Prompto kept trying to prod answers out.  “Not like this… not like this, I just can’t- I can’t kill you!”  His eyes went wide with shock. Kill… him? “What do you mean kill me? You’re just joking right? Please tell me this is a bad joke, please.”   Even though it was apparent what you had just tried to attempt, a piece of him had hoped that somehow this was just a bad prank, or an unexpected form of rough-housing. Just anything to explain this away…  “No Prompto!” They shoved him off. “I’m not fucking playing around, don’t do this to me!”  So many thoughts racing through his mind and it was hard to grab for just any single one. His lips kept moving like he was ready to say something, he was stuck like this for a few minutes until he finally blurted something out, “But why?”  “Why? You’re the empire’s lost little play thing! And since they can’t have you, I was supposed to get rid of you!” They barked at him and gave him a look of fury.  But then their anger settled back down into a pained expression. They were trying to not let sadness spill over, trying to repress and hold back the water forming in their eyes, and by The Six they were trying their hardest not to- but it was too hard. “But I- you- just- There’s no way. For as someone so sweet, who’s smile could cut through the darkness… You didn’t even fight back against me for lord’s sake. And you’re far too harmless to someone like me- You’re too kind of a person for your own good.  “Even if I hadn’t fell and let my own personal feelings about you settle in; it’d still take a special kind of monster to bring themselves to actually do this.”  The longer they spoke the closer their voice got to a whisper. And they bowed their head in shame, “And I can’t bring myself to be so heartless…”  Though Prompto’s trust of them was starting on the downswing of dwindling, he knew it in his heart that he could trust their words to be true this time and not a ploy to put him back off his guard. No one fakes remorse this well, he thought as he looked them over. They looked on the verge of breaking.  And he has so many questions he wants to ask, so many thoughts running through his head. Does he try to make a quick and sudden getaway? Does he try to reason through this? Should he tell the others? What’s going to happen now? He means- he knows that the small thing that they both just started going is out the window now. But what will happen here? What does this mean for him and the rest of them. What about…  “So if you’re a… what’s going to happen now?” He asked, though he feared the answer.  “Prompto, don’t you ever mention this to the others!” They suddenly lunged for him with a look of pure mortification, and grabbed him by the shoulders. They shook him frantically as the words kept rolling out. “Don’t ever say a word about this! Not to the guys, not to anyone! And I promise you I won’t have to touch a pretty hair on that head of yours. Promise me you won’t tell a soul!”  Prompto felt like he had no other choice than to nod along and agree.   “Good. I just- time I need some time!” Eyes darting around, as they searched their thoughts their grip on him loosened and released him. “I need to go!”  “Go? Are you really just leaving? Don’t I get to ask questions or have closure?”  “You can, but let me go back. I’ll go back, I’ll report in my failures. I’ll take the punishment, and I will get myself reassigned to something else. And then I’ll come back. I’ll come back, and I will hold off any force that tries to hurt you. Just wait for me and I’ll prove myself; you will wait for me right? Please?”  He says nothing, but he nods. He wants to ask if he even has a choice. He wants to question if he even has the option to question them. Something in his gut told him no, he never would. But would it even matter?  What’s done is done. No matter what they do now, he’ll always remember this. He’ll always flinch at the next sudden move they make; expecting the blade to be back in their hands and lunging for him. But that’s if he even has them stick around.  He thought the thing they had going was good, or he used to, but now that might have been founded on top of mere lies. He wants to be able to trust them- to give them the benefit of the doubt- but can he really?   The longer he thought, the more doubtful he became, and the less he could even trust them to keep to that word. Gods the apprehension tugging away at the back of his mind.  And now he’s left with so many questions he feels like he won’t be able to pry out the answer to.  What did they mean “Empire’s Plaything”?  And when should he tell the others? If… If he told…

——————————————–

  Cor waits in the confines of home for them. Patiently.  He sits and ponders; there’s a lot of thoughts and a lot of emotions to sort through now that he’s found a certain new piece of information.  None too long ago, he had been looking around the home in search of files that the hunters HQ had given to him; reports of creatures already taken care of, where the latest sightings of behemoths and mischievous cactuars. And it also had contained information of places that recently became “trouble spots”; places that were getting an unusual surge in daemons and abnormally strong ones at that.  It was important information he needed to track back down. After all his duty wasn’t with just the King and Kingdom but also to the people. He fought to keep the people as safe as he could in any way possible.  Initially he thought he may have misplaced it. But then he remembered that the last he had seen it was when he had momentarily handed it off to his partner.   Knowing it wasn’t the first time that his stuffed had managed to find it’s way into theirs, he went to search through their stuff. And as he peeked through their desk drawer he found something that took him by surprise; a somewhat aged letter with the seal of the enemy placed on it. And the orders-  He’s a member of the Crownguard; it made his skin thick and has taught him to always expect the unexpected. But even this caught him off guard. And now he’s ready to kick himself because he should have known better. He was a Crownsguard, he was The Immortal, and everyone wanted him dead and he should have been more careful and should have known better than to trust so readily.  But it was too late to beat himself up over this now.  The front door creaks open and he hears their voice calling out “I’m home” before they enter into the room he’s waiting in.  “There you are! How was you-”  “We need to talk.” He sternly interrupts.  Immediately they know something is up- he’s so much more serious in look and tone than usual. And he can ready the apprehension on their face. “Okay? Is something the matter?”  “Yes as a matter of fact.” He pauses briefly, sharply inhaling and slowly exhaling as he prepared to just get through this. “You would have me killed and my head served on a platter to the empire.” Cor tries his best to remain calm sounding, though there is an unmistakable anger in his voice. But it’s the anger he’s trying his best to hold back; anger is something that would cloud his vision, and today was not a day he wanted to create a new regret.  Their eyes go wide in shock. It doesn’t even take a whole second for them to figure out that he knows. “I- what are you-” They try to feign their confusion and attempt at bringing any doubt out of him to escape from having this talk, but Cor doesn’t let them.  “There is no use in beating around the bush; I know everything.”  “So then you found… I’m not sure how but I’m afraid you still don’t know the entirety of this.”  His hand tightly curls into a fist. “Then enlighten me.”  “I’ll admit it. When I was first sent in, I had every intention of killing you. It’s what they wanted, it’s what they were going to pay me for.”  “But why have you not? After all this time? Were you just using me to feed information to the empire then?” Depending on their answer, Cor was already getting ready to make a final choice. If that was the case, and if they really had been demoted to spying on him then all hesitation was going to be tossed to the wind.  “I was just rolling around to that, if you’d let me speak.” They sighed, “They wanted me to trail after you, and I won’t lie about the fact they wanted me to kill you horrifically; disembowel you and slit your throat, or skin you, behead you- it didn’t matter.” Cor grimaced at the details. He’s seen a lot of gruesome things in his life, but to imagine being on the receiving end of that… “You were going to be a message. But the trouble was getting you in a place where you’d be alone, and without your guard being up. And I swear, with you that’s impossible. Even in your sleep you probably would have slaughtered me.  “So the only option was to try and get close to you. But there ended up being one problem.”  Cocking a brow, Cor went to inquire, “And what would that be?”   “In trying to do so, I fell for you.” His stern gaze softened, “I joined up. I fell in love with the legend. And in befriending that legend, I fell in love with the man.”  “And then you couldn’t do it?”“By the Six, no! Every time I even so much thought of it, my hands would begin to shake and I found myself becoming unsure and, dare I say, upset. I’d find myself stressing out and losing sleep because what was I supposed to do? As if the other side would take too kindly to me failing the mission- but I couldn’t kill the man I grew to love.” They paused, and took a slow and deep breath before continuing on. “The man I saw a future with, that I wanted a future with… I can’t kill someone who holds my heart in his palms.  “Maybe I should have told you sooner, been more honest with you. But I was so afraid in doing so. I didn’t want to lose you… But I promise you, that’s all behind me. I left all that behind a long time ago! You don’t have to trust me, but I do promise that I could never bring myself to attempt harming you, or giving you away!”  “Maybe you do mean that, maybe not.” Shaking his head, Cor began to step away. The disappointment in his tone was still evident, and his expression cold and vexed. But behind those blue eyes they saw the melancholy that was hidden behind them.   Cor felt more than he was ever going to let on and that they knew. And frankly, if the situation was reversed they can’t say they’d be taking this any better than was now. They were lucky they were still standing where they were. They knew this was far from over though.   They watched Cor move for the door. “I’ll need my time and space to think about this.”  He was in desperate need of being left alone to a quiet where he could collect his thoughts to where he could figure out the next step in all of this.  Though it was a response that could never put a smile on their face, it was a more realistic one and and ultimately the best they could have asked for. They nodded in return of his answer.  “I understand.”

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  Another skirmish had started on the toes of Lucis, none too far from the capital no less.  The Glaives had been contacted and deployed. However, things proved to be more difficult than anticipated. Captain Drautos would be unable to stay on the sidelines and serve to guide his squadron.   No- This time, instead of overseeing the others and commanding them on the field, to guide them all back to safety to the best of his ability. Things were bad enough to pull Titus out onto the front lines.  As he ran through he found Glaive after Glaive left on the ground. Defeated- but yet so many were still warm and breathing. Peculiar. Most enemies would rather outright kill or take the ones left living as prisoners. So why were there so many left breathing- or at least why were Glaives being left while other forces and citizens were cold and lifeless?  Up none too far ahead Titus could hear scuffling and the sound of metal scraping against metal, and following was two hard heavy thuds of what sounded like something heavy being thrown down. People, he guessed.  And Titus’s gut wasn’t wrong. It never was.  As soon as he rounded the alley corner, he found two more of his men down on the ground. And one lone figure stood there, hidden in the cover of the darkness that the buildings cast, and their face shadowed over by the hood they wore.   Though he couldn’t see any feature of theirs, he could feel their eyes on him. Staring him down. Not moving- it was like they expected him to make the first move.  Titus gave a half-cocked smirk; if that’s what they wanted then he’d give them exactly that.  Before they had chance to cause anymore damage to another one of his unit, Titus drew his blade and engaged them in battle.   Long, grueling and tiring- something about this seemed so familiar to him but yet he couldn’t place it. Something was off about all of this.  Metal screeched as the two were locked in place together, trying to fight for dominance of the situation; it was anyone’s game now and it all came to a matter of whose strength could give out first, which defense was broken first and whose blade could finally make full contact. But that was ended as soon as Titus found his opening and manage to repel them and swept them aside, knocking the unknown enemy to the ground.  He stepped closer to them. The hood of his enemy had finally slid down and -”it’s you?”- it was one of his own. One of his own Glaives and it was the one who he kept repeated dragging back for “overtime” for long nights and seeing in secret out in the streets of Lucis.  So that’s why the fight felt familiar… He knew he recognized their style, and it was from previous sparring sessions.  Surprised was he in this turn of events. But the surprises of this betrayal faded into a sneer.  “Looks like I could lure you out. But too bad I don’t have bite to back that up- or the will.” They muttered, more to themselves rather than him.  “When you said you were a person of mystery, this was the last thing I had figured you to be.”  Still on the ground, they laid back and rested their weight onto their elbows, “Well, you can’t say there wasn’t some kind of warning.”   The Glaive captain stepped forward, and lifted his blade towards them and let the sharpness rest against the flesh of the underside of their jaw. Still glaring down at them. “What did you ever hope to accomplish?”  “I don’t know. Renown, fortune, an earned place to keep? Maybe something else or maybe for no reason at all. Why should I tell?”  “You have never been one to do something without reason. But if you don’t wish to answer than I’ll-”  “What? Strike me down in anger? Should you really be so mad towards me? After all you play the same game.”  Titus cocks a brow, “What is it you imply?”“What do I imply?” They chuckle as they shake their head, “You tell me that, Lord Glauca.” They watched his face distort; Titus was completely consternated. After all this time he had been so careful to conceal that identity from everyone, and yet somehow it was out there and- when did they find out? “Did I touch a nerv-”“Be silent!” He spat, pressing up just slightly further and making cold steel dig lightly into the skin of their neck.  “Why? Don’t worry Titus, I swear the secret will go no further. I won’t damn you for it either. For hearth and home, right?” They asked, “Well, it’s for hearth and home for me too.”  Lowering his blade, though not his guard, he prodded them for answers. In which they told him their story. “-but I guess I’ll spill my guts figuratively before you do literally; you can take pride that you’re name is out there well enough for someone to what your head delivered on their doorstep.”  Giving nothing more than a tilt of his head, he muttered out an “Oh?”  “Someone was willing to pay enough to buy a whole private island just for someone to take down the leader of the Glaives- just for one of Lucis’s defense branches to be knocked down entirely.”  “And I suppose you were the one hired for the job…” He earned a nod in response.  But Titus was no fool. His gut was telling him there was something up. He didn’t train up an idiot and whoever wouldn’t have hired one.“You hesitated too much,” And it was the truth. They had plenty of opportunities on him, especially during this squabble, “Why?”  “Because you’re lucky enough to be so handsome.” The alleyway filled with echoes of their own hearty laughter. They always found something to laugh at no matter the time or situation. Even if they had to make it themselves.  But then they began to speak up again. “The same reason you did.” They began, “For hearth and home. And you were becoming my hearth and home. That’s why I wasn’t killing the other Glaives; if I couldn’t pull through then I didn’t want to do too bad of damage.”  Nothing but silence on the wind that the two shared between them. No weapon raised or pressed to their throat, still pointed at the ground. He looked down at them as if he was judging, and they awaited his answer with a stare of indifference.   “So answer me this, my captain…” Their hand started to slide a little closer to where their weapon had fallen, “Where does that leave us now?”