#branch would so slay in a dress

[larrys-journal]

- Move out their way everyone, they’re here for the most, “best and slayed couple” award 🏆

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CW: Slightly Suggestive 👇

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[thollandneedy]

Bed Chem- Tom Holland

A/n: Did i took almost 2 weeks to write it? Yes. Did i slay? Also yes

Warnings: Swearing and smut

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

The white dress had transparent details around it, like tree branches hugging Y/n's waist. The woman had her legs crossed as she sat waiting for her agent to notify her of the arrival of her car. Her attentive eyes caught sight of a man in a white jacket, black jeans that clearly showed off his plump buttocks and his strong arms that seemed to be begging to be freed from his black shirt. The young woman supported her weight on one of her hands, tilting her body to the side in an attempt to see the brunette's face, but caught by surprise, his assistant called out to her:

“Y/N. Can we go?” A man with rectangular glasses asked her, holding out his hand so that the woman could lean on it.

“Um, sure.” The woman straightened her dress, slicked back her hair and walked slowly towards the exit of the fashion event that had just taken place in a historic museum. The architecture of the environment was the same, but with some transparent chairs with comfortable ivory seats. The fashion show of one of Y/n's sponsors had just taken place in the museum's garden, which was decorated with floral and mythical elements that seemed to be inspired by “Alice in Wonderland”. As she neared the exit door, a familiar figure called out to her, causing her to turn around and smile, walking away from her agent.

“Y/N” Laura Harrier, smiling, held out her arms as if waiting for a hug, which was quickly reciprocated.

“Laura! I didn't see you the whole event.” Y/n says as soon as she's out of the hug.

“I was with some of my cast mates. How are you?” The pony-tailed brunette replies, pointing to some people in a circle chatting and laughing quietly to themselves.

“I'm fine, but I have to go. New York is calling.” Y/n lies.

She hadn't been able to write anything for a while, let alone find a chord on the various instruments she played. It wasn't a lack of ideas, because like all Hollywood artists, it wouldn't be wrong to be able to use a song as a template, but nothing seemed to be original enough or to capture her attention in order to finish the song. 

“But already? Well, stay! We haven't seen each other for over five months.” The brunette asked, holding both of Y/n's hands as if begging him to stay.

Y/n smiles, but denies it with his head. Just as her mouth threatens to open in response, the man she was looking at approaches Laura, with a friendly smile and brunette hair as silky as linen. Y/n moves away briefly, giving him room to greet the actress.

“Laura! Good to see you.” The brunette says, and as soon as she finally manages to blur the actor's beautiful body, Y/n smiles with satisfaction, discovering who this man was who had caught her eye without even saying a word.

Thomas Stanley Holland, the newest Spider-Man

I couldn't deny the media attention he was getting, let alone his distinctive British accent.

And damn, what a voice 

“Tom, this is Y/n.” The girl in the red dress moved her body away from the actor, making room for the singer to enter the scene and greet him with a friendly handshake, which ended up becoming an embarrassed hug.

“Y/n L/n. It would be a lie if I didn't tell you that I listen to your songs in my car. You're incredibly spectacular in your songs.” The Brit compliments her, causing a shy smile to escape from his pink, glossed mouth.

“I appreciate your affection, Spiderman.” The woman replies, prompting a low laugh from the actor. “I've never been a big fan of Marvel, or any superhero franchise, but this time you convinced me to watch. You were awesome.” Y/n returned the compliment, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, adorned with a pearl earring.

“Getting a compliment from you made my day worthwhile.” The brunette replies.

“My brother will go crazy when he finds out I talked to Spider-Man.” Y/n laughs, remembering that his younger brother was obsessed with the character Thomas played.

The two of them were already in such proximity that if they lifted their arms to fix their hair, they would end up touching. Electronic music played in the background, while waiters passed by handing out champagne and other appetizers to the guests in the garden and others who entered the museum to take photos. The actress, sensing the connection between the two newcomers, approached briefly, asking to be excused, trying not to cut off the rapprochement that was being generated.

“Sorry to interrupt, but some of my colleagues are calling me. Do you mind if I leave?” The actress asks, receiving a silent no and smiling in thanks as she quietly leaves in search of her friends who have called her to take photos. 

“So you have a brother? What's he like?” Thomas asks, stepping forward, trying to move his steps elsewhere as they talk.

“He's great, but he knows how to drive me crazy.” Y/n laughs, following in the actor's footsteps and walking to the exit door.

“You don't want to go to my house to meet my family then. I have four brothers, and for a touch of femininity, my dog Tessa.” Tom mentioned, putting his two hands behind his back and causing the singer to react with astonishment at the number of brothers he had.

“And do you get along?” Y/n asks, receiving a yes between silly smiles. 

“Yes, quite a lot. But it's still difficult to deal with.” Tom continues the conversation, only to be interrupted when his agent calls him with his hands, showing that his black vehicle is already waiting. “I have to go now. I have to do a photo shoot later and I haven't even eaten yet. Can I text you later? Maybe I'll be free tonight. “Holland mentions, shifting his posture to face the woman in the see-through dress.

As soon as he stopped, his eyes once again shifted to watch her.  The woman's clear smile mesmerized him, as her eyes beckoned him to touch her. Even though her face had delicate, virginal features, Holland's mind was filled with dirty thoughts, however unintentionally. The actor had no intention of making the woman do anything she didn't want to do, let alone disrespect her, because his British moralism would never allow it. 

Y/n, on the other hand, felt the same way. Women are discreet and careful in the way they express their admiration for appearance, especially of a man they had never met before. Y/n would deny the invitation if she was silly and really had important work to do, but perhaps a distraction would help her inspiration. 

“I didn't give you my number.” Y/n says.

“I've been following you on Instagram for a while.” The brunette admits, looking away.

“And where are we going?” Y/n asks, drawing a sideways smile from the actor.

“Wherever you want, darling.”

(...)

The sun had been out for hours, and the bars were closing. The air in London managed to be more different than in New York, strangely wetter. Thomas's apartment had some of its lights on when his shoes were thrown into the hallway, and the walls made banging noises as if there was a fight about who was stronger. The clock struck almost two in the morning, and the neighbors who had once tried to sleep were now hiding their ears from the sounds coming from the young actor's apartment. 

“I don't usually do this on first dates,” Y/n said, tripping over her own shoes as her long-sleeved blouse was lifted, exposing her white bra.

“Don't worry, doll. I won't tell anyone.” Thomas says, kneeling down in front of the singer, allowing his tongue to meet her exposed belly, leading it to her covered breasts, which she responds to with a positive moan. “Can I take it off?” The actor brought his eyes up to hers, as if they were begging for his wish to be granted.

“Please.” One of Thomas' hands goes up to the clasp of Y/n's bra, unbuttoning it in a second with just one hand. 

Carefully, he pulls her up, holding her legs and pressing her against the wall so that her feet don't touch the floor. Their necks meet in a hard, abrupt touch, while their mouths move in sync, not allowing them to move. Carrying her on his lap, Holland detaches the woman from the wall, taking her to his bedroom a few rooms away. The couple laugh, allowing the actor to open his eyes and walk through the corridors of their home.

“I bought the apartment recently. I still haven't got used to everything in here.” The brunette admits, while Y/n wraps her arms around the young man's neck, agreeing with what he has said.

She didn't even know what he was saying on the way, since her concern was how he was going to touch her, hold her and turn her. Y/n noticed that they were approaching a white door with a silver handle, which was easily opened by one of Thomas's free hands, as the singer's legs were entwined around his hips. The brunette closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath as he let the woman's feet touch the heated floor, watching her room as the lights came on. As much as Y/n wanted to check the actor's room for red flags before he could commit some kind of act he would later regret, it wasn't possible for the place to be assessed, since Holland's tongue will find Y/n's within seconds of leaving it on the floor.

“Holy shit, Y/n” Thomas holds her against him, walking backwards as if guiding her into a mysterious cave of hidden secrets.

“What?” The woman smiles, as Thomas's hands go down to the buttons of the younger woman's pants, which manage to be removed with ease by his nimble fingers.

Y/n's ass becomes exposed to the warm air of the room, while Holland begins to feel his member harden against the factory of his pants, adjusting his hard-on in search of relieving the feeling of desperation buried between his legs. The heat rises to his cheeks, making him stretch out on the bed, putting both hands behind him to support the weight of his body against the bed he was lying on. His eyes drifted down to his smooth, apparently freshly shaved legs, returning to his hard breasts against the shirt he was wearing.

“Come ride on me,” Thomas asked, quickly removing his shirt after thrusting his body forward, carefully pulling the singer's thighs apart until she was sitting on his lap, rolling against his erection as soon as she felt it.

The singer smiles sideways, resting her two hands on the actor's back, who lies back, allowing her to take control of the moment and feel safe in the midst of the act they were about to perform. The air seemed to be getting denser and denser, and that was exactly what Y/n needed for her week's vacation. Something that inspired, surprised and called her to focus on something other than just music and work. 

The woman removes her blouse, finally exposing her hot body, sliding it against the actor's muscular chest, which allows a moan to escape her mouth. Y/n's back arches, as her mouth seeks out Holland's mouth once again with her tongue and fiery desire. The actor holds on tightly to her hair, bringing her closer, until the sound of the zipper opening is heard and he finds himself with only a hut as a representation of underwear.

“It's been a while since I've done that.” The singer confesses between wet kisses, feeling her lower lip being touched by her sexual partner's tongue.

“I'll help you,” the actor offers, finishing removing his underwear, leaving them both completely exposed to their desires on the bed with its wine silk sheets and comforter of the same color. 

Without even thinking about protection, Y/n put one of her hands on the actor's chest while she searched for his member so that she could fit into his wet entrance. The need for touch was so intensely hot that foreplay was no longer part of the process. The actor's penis fit perfectly into the younger woman's layers, feeling every bit of her completing her between wet slides of her pussy. The man groans loudly, gripping the woman's waist tightly until he makes red marks on each side. Y/n throws her head back, pressing her thighs together so that her movements meet Thomas's in their sexual synchrony. The man's hands manage to control the woman's sloppy movements, making her moan louder. 

“Fuck, Thomas.” The woman moans thinly, closing her eyes as if to squeeze them shut.

“Do you like that?” The man draws her attention with a muffled voice.

“Uhum” The girl rides his lap hard, finding a perfect rhythm. “Oh, shit”

Holland quickly pulled a pillow over his head, managing to improve his view of the surrounding singer. He couldn't tell if it was because her vocal range was so good, or because he was enchanted by her, but every sound she made managed to be perfect. The window of Thomas's apartment was open, as were the curtains that exposed the immense City of London as if each light in each house were a tiny star in a sea of space. The light was low, almost reaching the same intensity as the moon, which was also part of the lighting used by the couple. Holland moved his left hand to the pillow, squeezing it tightly with each thrust that Y/n made into his hard member. 

“Huh,” the brunette moaned. “If you keep this up, I'm going to come soon.” The man warned.

“And that wasn't the intention, baby?” The girl says breathlessly.

Her breasts were exposed, swaying with each hard smack against her wet spot. Her clitoris could be stimulated by her own hand, seeking a faster and stronger orgasm, so that she could relax her body for a good sleep, or perhaps another round that felt satisfying. As soon as Thomas noticed the stimulation she was practicing on herself, he caught her eye:

“No, darling. Let me touch you. I want to make you scream.” The Briton said, placing one of his free hands under the woman's hand in front of him, making her get off quickly so that she could be penetrated once more.

The pillow, which once served as a support for the actor's head, was now positioned against the woman's belly as she lay in a straight position with her hips slightly raised. Thomas kisses the singer's ass, running his hands over her soft skin, his eyes fixed on the beginning of the bed adorned with several pillows that he probably hadn't even used. Thomas holds the base of his penis, placing it against the entrance of the woman who involuntarily asks him to penetrate her, pressing her wet core against the pink head of his penis. Feeling the wetness of his member in contact with her entrance, it was as if her insides missed him and were ready for him to take her.

Without haste, the actor's penis entered the woman, eliciting a loud moan from her that was muffled by the mattress. Y/n's loose hair was pushed away from her face, allowing him to see even the slightest of her facial expressions as he penetrated her to the point where their skins made a sound. Her back arched like a cat's, and her position was perfect for hitting her G-spot with ease. With a feeling of power overtaking his body, Thomas put his weight against Y/n's back, lowering one of his hands to one of her breasts, which were massaged with fervor when he found them. Once again, a loud moan came out, now sounding hoarse and lacking the strength to moan any louder. 

“Thomas!” Y/n moans, clutching the messy sheets.

Holland takes on more shape and movement, starting to feel the sweat build on his wet chest. His mouth opens in an “o”, while his eyes close abruptly as he feels a huge explosion forming inside him. His breaths, as unregulated as they were, still came in a rush. Y/n felt his body tense up, as if his muscles were trapped in a cage of exhaustion after too long without an intense connection. 

“Come for me, come on. Let me hear you,” the brunette ordered, as if he were imposing a commandment on her. 

Y/n can't even deny the request, as the orgasm hits her hard like an eruption from a fiery volcano, feeling her fire being put out by the actor's soothing cum. Her walls contract, expelling her entire furrow in a shrill scream from both of them in the room, as if their bodies were begging for more. The brunette exhaled the air of satisfaction, allowing his body to fall next to his partner, who was still recovering from the physical effort and energy released during the climax. The girl smiles to herself, putting one of her hands to her face to cover her silly laughter, and then sneaking closer to the actor, whom she embraces in an affectionate gesture. Her body is wrapped in the sweaty man's arms, who smiles briefly at the naked singer, then says:

“I don't know what we'd be like as a couple, but I'm sure we have good bed chem”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Hunter of Love.

Every decision made or not made branches off and creates new realities. There are a countless number of those realities.

Worlds of infinite choices—he will glimpse them all.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Rook dances through the darkness, unburdened and dauntless. Not a single step produces a sound—though if it had, the sound would no doubt be absorbed into the abyss. He glides effortlessly, a swan upon still water.

There is no road for his feet to follow, only a plane of darkness. Heels strike it, eliciting a clear clack-clack-clack, as if the floor is marble.

The walls—if they can be called that; there's nothing solid when he sticks his arms out to test the environment—are laden with full-body mirrors. They're mounted up upon nothing, floating in place, their reflective faces clean, clear, and free of cracks.

He is drawn to them, tugged along as if compelled by the red string of fate.

In each, he is presented with a novelty.

Familiar places and people, refracted and twisted into something new. Something beautiful.

An ethereal art gallery for his own amusement.

He turns his head, taps fingers along the frames of each realm in turn.

A Night Raven College with as many as fourteen dorms. A Night Raven College set upon a stage, scripts in the hands of every student. A Night Raven College of young women, not young men.

Jade with his hair styled up in a mohawk, a plethora of piercings studding his face. Kalim with a monkey upon his shoulder, sharing a platter of fruit. Young Epel in a pair of glasses, mouthing the lines to a play. Idia, smaller than even his younger brother, in an oversized sweater, playing on a mobile gaming console.

Rook imagines a great tree, its roots ever-growing, expanding deep, deep, deep into the soil and continuing still. Endless choices, endless possibilities.

C'est la vie—such is life.

He stops.

His hand now hovers over the glass casing of a tragedy.

Rook stares at a version of himself, collapsed beside a bottle of apple juice. Its caustic contents ooze out onto the ground, bubbling as it eats away at the floor.

The common man would be repulsed. Chilled to the bone. Frightened.

But Rook Hunt is not the common man.

"Comme c'est magnifique," he marvels. “Willingly consuming poison, wishing so desperately to believe that his queen was free of sin… Here lies a foolish dreamer in the aftermath, still having faith in his dear friend's integrity.”

Rook lingers, drinking in the details of the morbid work of art.

He does not move, does not breathe. Ignoring the bottle, it is as though he had been laid into a peaceful sleep. Lips arranged in a soft smile, long lashes cast over his cheeks.

A beautiful queen weeps for him, tears colored black as the night. His clothes are tattered, his crown tarnished. He is a flower of evil, stripped of his petals.

The next mirror, the mirror after—all horrific ends, varying shades of gruesome. Visions twisting, distorting.

A king dressed in roses slaying their victims, peasants who dares to defy their rule. A hyena dissolving into sand. Students trapped in constrictive tentacles, stripped of their talents.

Mindless drones lumbering around a seized castle. A reality dyed in ink, ruled by blue flames and Phantoms. And… a tangle of briar knitting over the world.

To him, they are just as lovely as the rest.

Heartbreaking, but lovely.

As that thought strikes him, the area ahead brightens. He spots color dotting the darkness.

They start as scribbles, clumsy trails of crayon left by a child's hand. Further along, the crayon gains dimension, turning into yarn threads. Eventually, they weave together to form a coherent path marked by cobblestones made of newspaper clippings.

It leads to a thicket unlike any he has ever seen.

Every glade of grass, every leaf and stem, is painted in a glistening coat of silver. The flowers are crystal, the fruit, plump jewels. The sky, a watercolor masterpiece of brilliant blues, white clouds dabbled on with an artist's sponge.

A tower rises in the distance, fine and thin like a needle. Its pointed roof pierces the heavens, and there is but one solitary window embedded in the structure.

Rook gasps, and a thousand or more reflected Rooks gasp too.

The leaves tinkle, a melody of wind chimes and bells. He feels as though they are beckoning to him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the forest.

His feet have a mind of their own; they start moving, as if bewitched by the majesty of the enchanted wood, by the mystery of the tower. Beads of dew upon the grass are left untouched as he swiftly passes.

A call reaches out from a place far, far away. It's not quite speech, but vocalizations resembling speech--someone grasping for the right words, the right feeling.

There is a haunting hollowness to the siren song. A longing so immense it makes tears spring to his eyes.

It must be seeking its other half, Rook realizes. A harmony for its melody, to form a duet.

But the longer he tries to focus on the sound, the more he tries to parse out its parts, the more confused he becomes. The voice is contradictory: familiar and yet unfamiliar, happy and yet sad.

His pace quickens, as does his heartbeat. It's an anomaly for him, for whom calmness comes easily.

I must go to them, he thinks, unsure of why. I must.

Is there a yet-to-be-discovered wonder on the other side? His queen, whom he has sworn his undying loyalty to, in danger? Is it from the strange tower? A stranger requesting his aid?

Curiosity thrums through him.

Hurry.

The tower seems to drift farther and farther away with each step. The voice, fainter.

Hurry...!!

Rook runs.

The building accelerates. The trees expand as if to fill in the space where the tower had fled.

Wildlife carved of glass watch, some racing with him. A deerling on limber, elegant legs, a rabbit bouncing as high as it can. Even the fish skip atop the river that runs concurrent with the forest trail, and a flock of birds soar upon their crystalline wings.

They trill, they coo, they sing.

His run becomes a sprint, and the sprint becomes a gallop. The call to adventure, loud and clear in his ears.

He is one with nature, and nature is one with him.

I must see for myself what lies at the ends of this world--and beyond it.

His spirit brims, burning with determination.

Chasing something he doesn’t know the true nature, the true face, of. For that... is the thrill of the hunt.

[modeus-the-unbound]

Path to reach the Hime-dere.

Start at chapter 2: The Damsel.

Enter the basement without the dagger.

Upon meeting the Damsel, mentally remark to the voices on how she looks like the perfect fairytale princess.

Smitten will reply "Well of course she is, why wouldn't our beloved be the most perfect princess of all?" Hero will speak after "No one is actually perfect. I am sure even if they are minor, she has to have some flaws."

Proceed as normal. But with additional dialogue options regarding how you are attempting to find a flaw of some kind. "Not a hair out of place, not even a loose strand on her dress. Is she fake?"

Narrator will have little reaction to you seeking out any flaws and attempt to redirect your attentions to slaying her. "She is most definitely real. So is the threat she poses to the world if you don't slay her."

Free the princess, and a branching path will be shown in the dialogue. One proceeds to leaving the cabin. One proceeds to questioning her autonomy which leads to Deconstructed. And one proceeds to questioning her lack of flaws. "I am sorry, but you seem so....flawless. I can't help but be curious."

By proceeding down the third branch, new dialogue relating to her will appear.

"You seem so perfect, how do you do it?" "I have a hard time believing your even real, are you sure your not putting on an act?" "You have to have some kind of imperfection. Like forgetting to put the cap back on toothpaste." "Your faking this whole, "making me happy" thing. Come on, be real with me for a moment." Ect.

By choosing three of the options to doubt her apparent perfection in a row. Damsel will become more and more distressed looking and sounding. "Of course I am real. And I can be perfect, if that would make you happy? Or maybe I can be not perfect."

If you choose dialogue that ignores her desire to accept her as she presents herself, she will become extremely distressed. She will then push Long Quiet out of the way, and flee back into the basement.

You attempt to catch up to her, but the door is slammed in your face. Causing a sudden ending. When the next chapter begins, the voices and Long Quiet will be confused about whether or not they died. Voice of the Skeptic will be added to the group.

[caliburn-the-sword]

watching once upon a crime!!

I LOVE TO SEE A STORYOOK INTRO THATS CUTE AF

the English jumpscared me. I thought it was just for the narration but then red also started talking English and I realised the dub settings were all wrong so I went back to watch it PROPERLY

ITS HER ITS RED SHES ADORABLE THE COSTUMING LITERALLY SLAYS I LOVE HER FIT

I’m scared for her dress I hope she didn’t rip it on the branch

LMAO WHOS THIS WITCH?? It’s so real for red to just walk away. What a boss bitch. I love her

thus witch is so campy and hilarious. This is REAL fairy tale shit I love it

THE SFX ARE SO CUTE

i think I love this witch so much because she reminds me of my aunt

rip to red’s feet I would NOT want to walk through a forest barefoot

CINDERELLA

babe I’m so sorry that they made you bleach your hair blonde. Nothing is more harmful to an Asian’s hair than that

Cinderella I would do ANYTHING for you

okay I get how she guessed Cindy was being bullied but HOW did she guess about the stepmother omg

these dresses SLAY. And these stepdaughters are so cunty

cinderella is just like me fr. Someone shows you basic human decency and fall apart about it LMAO

i had a feeling the witch was gonna be the fairy godmother lmao

OMG SLAY. I’m freaking out so much that dress is so BEAUTIFUL

OMG TEKLA IS SO PRETTY I LOVE HER AND HER LEITMOTIF

i love how the magic wand vs magic staff thing explains the whole shoes not transforming back thing lol

the costuming needs to stop slaying so hard or else I might explode

JUST HIDE THE BODY OKAY 💀💀

I wonder what’s getting foreshadowed here with the person trying to enter the ball??

playing spot the main character with this ball is hilarious. The dresses are still slaying tho

Anne got the bisexual bob

KINGDOM CLAIR DE LUNE CKZVOJEKAKFJD

the prince is,,, not it

HELP THE SOUND EFFECT ABOUT ANNE’S TITS WHAT WAS THAT

I RECOGNISE THIS BALLET MUSIC

THREW THE CROWN IN THE TRASH WHAT

Little red riding hood is neurodivergent idc what anyone else says

i can’t believe prince charming’s name is GILBERT

ITS THE SERVANT IN THE HOOD THATS HIS GIRL

I love how the glass slipper stayed completely intact despite being yeeted greyed across stone. Gotta love the drama

and there was only one bed (hay bale) 😳😳

red riding hood doing the walk of shame and leaving Cindy to wake up all by her own

Margot acting as if she doesn’t hate Cindy??

how Tf isn’t Margot dead

love Margot’s protectiveness of her sister(s)

red is such a bitch I love her for throwing Margot to the wolves even if her ass was innocent

why did Margot have a glass heel

ballet music is playing again

HOW IS CINDY THE KILLER

rip to the prince but i'm different. i CAN marry a killer

@dykelilypage look!! i watched it. i loved it to death

[blepsart]

Guillotine Teeth (2023)

Story about a messed up fairy tale world.

Includes blood, gore and cannibalism.

Mohn followed the noise of wet tearing and snapping of things that weren’t twigs or branches. The forest floor was spongy with moss, but Mohn had to be careful not to step onto a dry leaf or dead tree limbs hidden under it.

It had been months since she had last seen a human. Since she had fled from the citadel. Her dress was still a pristine white, even after living in the wilderness for so long. Her jeweled crown still as polished as the day she had left. Mohn was kept pristine by the blood that had been fermenting in her family for decades. Tainted blue by the potency.

She hid behind a tree, seeing the source of the sound in a clearing. A campfire lit the scene in harsh shadows and bright orange. The Huntress was halfway buried in the guts of the man she had slain, her sword still stuck in the skull. She gorged herself on the organs, though only lesser blooded ones, barely shaded purple. Unrefined, in those quantities it caused the host to bloat up into a grotesque, hulking monster. Yet the blood-starved young woman had managed to slay it.

Mohn had been told stories of the savages outside the citadel. More beast than human, blood-thirsted villains that would love nothing more than to rip into the unspoiled flesh of nobility and get a taste of that pure blood. Mohn had to admit, this outsider was all she was promised to be.

Her straw-blond hair glued together, strings of viscera connecting her cheeks, shirt and hands. Enraptured in her meal but not unaware.

The princess needn’t make a noise for the head to snap back, alert eye fixating on her glowing form. Swift and agile, the huntress retrieved the sword and approached the visitor.

The huntress stepped in front of the fire, casting a shadow over her. The moon-like glow from Mohn only illuminated the white of her eyes and reflected off the gore around her mouth.

Mohn stood in awe of the blood-soaked figure looming over her like a shadow shouldn’t, heavy and radiant in its darkness.

“Come for more?” the huntress growled, noting Mohn’s shivering body.

“No more.” Mohn shook her head. “Those in the castle have gone sick and twisted. I’m the only one left with reason. I was hoping to find more out here.”

“You won’t find more of anything out here. You kings and queens have eaten up all there was to the world. Anything there is left, you will find it back inside those walls, already devoured by you greed-addled swine. You’ve only left us a wilting forest and nothing to eat but each other. I always hoped you’d choke on it. I’m glad that you do.” The venom in her voice never ceased.

“Are there more like you?”

“I’m afraid not. One was gripped with hunger and might, and now, what life was left around here I am carving from his guts. My friends are dead, become one with this unsightly fiend. All I can do is retrieve their blood from him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I wasn’t aware that it was just as bleak out here.”

“Oh, you’ve seen nothing. You’ve not seen what lies beyond this forest. The state you leeches have left the world in. Stripped of all life. And for what? You’ve exceeded satiation, security, power. And more you swallowed, just so you could have it and no one else.”

The huntress tightened the grip on her sword. “It’s time you give it back.”

The huntress was fast, launching the blade at Mohn’s head, barely missing. She swung her sword wild and reckless but was not burdened by its weight. There were no openings after her swings, where she needed to catch the sword’s momentum. She wielded it as if it had no weight at all.

Mohn caught the huntress’ arm and broke it with just the pressure of her thumb. The sword fell to the ground and Mohn let the huntress retreat, only to lunge forward and catch her neck, lifting her off her feet and slamming her onto her back.

The huntress tried to move the arm off her throat, even forcing the broken arm back into use, but there was no way to overcome the power difference.

“What’s your name?” the princess asked.

“Sesam.” the huntress answered, grunting as she put her arm through more pain. Mohn grabbed the fractured limb to make her stop, leaning her face down closer.

“Will you help me? Will you slay everyone in the citadel with me? Return that blood back to the world. So that the world may one day recover. To bring back rivers and oceans, rain and wind, birds, fishes, rats and wolves, everything we’ve bled dry into dust.”

“Will you give up your blood for it?” Sesam challenged.

“In a heartbeat. You must become stronger. Take my blood. Eat of me. Until you can slay those like me.”

Mohn stuck out her tongue, then bit into it until it bled. The blue fluid dripped onto Sesam’s face. Mohn put her lips against Sesam’s and she drank from her mouth. She drank until her teeth were sharp enough to cut Mohn’s lips. Until her arm mended and she was strong enough to push Mohn up. The wound in Mohn’s tongue closed and Sesam bit it open anew. 

Once the blood had been evenly split between them, Mohn hung in Sesam’s arms, feeling drained, while Sesam felt intoxicating power.

“Like this-” Mohn gasped. “-the weakest in the citadel will pose only little threat to us. But we will need more blood to stand a chance against the aristocracy. If we work together… split the blood, we may match their power without losing ourselves.” Mohn crawled up Sesam so she could look down on her once more. “Do this with me. Or kill me now while I’m weak and live on in this world forever broken.”

Sesam pulled her back down with a hug, letting her rest on her shoulders. She refused to relax her arms until Mohn no longer felt cold in her arms. Until she felt familiar.

“Together.” Sesam answered.

She let Mohn sink down, sit into her lap, leaning into her hands. Mohn was tired, looking at the blood-smeared brute with a content smile. Sesam’s face had softened once she had decided to extend her compassion towards the princess.

“Together.” Mohn repeated.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE DRESS THAT WENT INTO A WALNUT

@themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @tamisdava2 @natache @princesssarisa @softlytowardthesun @the-gentile-folklorist @shelleythesapphic @faintingheroine @lord-antihero @lioness--hart

(Greek folktale)

There was once a King who had ten sons, and how proud it made him feel!

“I have ten sons!”

He would boast at every opportunity, as if he were saying he was the mightiest ruler in the world.

But it was not only his ten sons he took such pride in. He also liked to boast about an apple tree which stood in his garden, a lovely tree with spreading branches which produced great red apples so delicious that there were no others like them in the whole wide world.

If ever a guest arrived on a visit from some other kingdom, there were two : things he never failed to do: present his ten sons to the visitor and offer him a gift of his marvelous apples.

But there came a year when every time he sent his servants to pick apples, they would find not a single ripe fruit on the branches. The king was beside himself with worry, and in the end he decided to consult his royal counselors.

“My lord the King”, pronounced the eldest of them.

“The answer seems quite clear. Someone has been coming in the night and picking all the ripest and the reddest of apples. You must set guards to keep a watch on them and catch the thief.”

Set guards? Why guards, when the king had ten brave sons? How brave, we shall soon see.

And so he ordered two of them to go that night and watch in secret, to find out how the red apples were so mysteriously disappearing.

The two young princes buckled on their golden swords, took up their tall spears and proudly went to keep a night watch on the garden.

They were standing in the shadows when suddenly they heard an evil hissing, and a moment later they spied a hideous monster lumbering towards them.

The moment they set eyes on it, the princes were overcome with fear. It never crossed their minds to draw their swords; they just took to their heels like rabbits.

“Father!”

They gasped, the moment they got back:

“There’s a terrible creature, a huge monster that comes at night and eats your apples up!”

“Then tomorrow four of you will go and kill it!”

Ordered the King. Yet even though there were four of them next night, the moment the princes saw the monster they were frightened out of their wits and ran back to their father with terror.

The King was far from pleased, but the monster had to be dealt with and so he decided to send all ten next time.

The following evening the princes all set off, but on the way they set down to talk the matter over, and decided not to go in search of the hideous creature after all. Instead, they went into a tavern where they ate, drank and danced the night away. In the morning they returned to their father and told him that the monster stealing apples from the garden was so huge and horrible that a whole army would not be able to defeat it.

The king was sitting on his throne, fuming with rage, when who should appear but Carrot-top. This was the scornful name the king’s sons called a young lad with red hair who worked in the palace kitchens.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” roared the king when he heard that Carrot-top had come to announce that he intended to slay the monster, a creature not even his ten bold sons together could destroy.

He gave him a bow and arrows and told him he could try, yet far from admiring the brave fellow’s daring and wishing he could kill the monster, he hoped that he would not come back alive. What really madened him was the thought that if the kitchen boy could slay the beast, it would be a mortal insult to his ten fine sons. All the same, he ordered the princes to follow secretly and see what happened.

Now when night fell, the boy went to the garden, lay in wait and the instant he saw the monster coming shot off an arrow at it. He hit the monster in the back. It let out a howl of pain, but before he could take aim again it dragged itself away and disappeared into the dark.

When daylight came, the brave lad spotted the monster’s footprints and decided he would go in search of it. But he had not gone before he ran into the King’s ten sons instead.

“I wounded the beast.”

He told them.

“And now I’m off to track it down and finish it.”

And with these words he began to follow the pawprints in the earth and the drops of blood which had trickled from the monster’s wounded body. The ten princes followed close behind, but not too close!

The trail ended by a well, and the bold young knew the beast must have its lair there.

“Lower me down.”

He told the King’s sons, without a moment’s hesitation. The ten princes cast sidelong glances at each other as if to say, ‘Let the monster devour him and have done with it’, and they quickly tied a rope round Carrot-top’s waist and 

lowered him into the well.

At the bottom there was no water at all, but a cave instead and in its depths lay the monster, huddled in a ball. Quick as a flash, Carrot-top loose another arrow which hit the creature squarely in the head and left it lifeless.

“You’ve saved me!”

Came a voice behind him, and turning in surprise he saw a maiden as fresh and lovely as a mountain spring.

“How did you get down here?”

He asked her in a wondering voice.

“Do not remind me of it.”

The maid replied.

“I am an orphan and have no one in the world. I fell into the hands of evil men, who beat me cruelly and dragged me off to be sold as a slave in the bazaars of Anatolia. On the way I managed to escape and clambered down this well to stop them finding me. But I could not climb out again, and the next day at dawn that monster came. It had a human voice and promised it would not devour me, but neither would it let me go, for it had always longed for the company of a fair maiden. I have been here for seven whole days and nights, but now at last I have been saved.”

“Up you go, then!”

Said the young man, and tugging on the rope he shouted:

“I’ve killed the monster, and I’ve found a maiden down here in the well. Pull her out first and then let down the rope for me.”

“But are you sure they’ll pull you out as well?”

The maiden whispered.

“And why should they leave me here?”

“I cannot say - but something tells me that is what will happen.”

“I shouldn’t think so. After all, they are the King’s sons. What would they have to fear from me?”

“If they are good men, nothing. But you have killed a fearsome monster, and if they are wicked they may well be afraid of you. Since I owe you my life, I must tell you how to save yourself if they do indeed abandon you down here. Very soon, two rams will come, one as white as snow and the other black like coal. Jump straight onto the white ram’s back and it will bring you out. But if you mount the black one, you will be dragged into the deeper ends of the earth. Take this walnut: inside there is a wonderful dress that resembles the heavens with the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. Guard it well, for it may serve you in time of need. Don’t forget.”

“I shall remember.”

The ten princes threw the rope and Carrot-top tied it to the maiden’s waist, and he asked the King’s ten sons to pull her up.

They pulled, and then cut away the rope, so that Carrot-top couldn’t come up.

Then, they threatened the young maiden.

“Do not tell anyone what happened or that will be the end of you. Like it or not, you’ll do exactly what we tell you, but it will all turn out for your own good, since you’ll be married to one of us and become a royal princess.”

“But the young man! You must pull him out!”

The maiden cried. But all in vain. The princes wouldn’t hear of it and dragged her cruelly away.

When they got back to their father’s palace, they told him boastfully how they had killed the monster and released this lovely girl it had been holding prisoner in the well.

“And as for Carrot-top…”

They added:

“The monster gobbled him alive. But now, father, we beg you to decide which of us will marry this beautiful maiden.”

“My sons…”

The King replied.

“Words cannot describe the joy you bring me. You are indeed ten fearless princes, and worthy of great honors. And do not waste your tears on Carrot-top - the lad was looking for trouble and he found it. As for this maiden here, whose loveliness outshines the sun, she is worthy to be made a queen, so I shall take her as my bride.”

The King’s sons exchanged sullen glances at these words, while the girl’s heart sank into her shoes. But she was not about to admit defeat.

“Your majesty…”

She said,

“I shall wait for the young man whom I love, and if he is fated to never return, then I shall never marry.”

The King was stunned by her reply.

“Seven times I have been wed.”

He told himself.

“And no woman ever turned me down before. Does a mere slip of a girl now think she can refuse me? But let her speak her piece, for I shall make her mine, regardless of her wishes.”

At that very moment, down in the well, Carrot-top saw two rams emerge from a cleft in the rock. One was white and the other black. He took a leap at the white ram’s back, but it swerved aside. While he was still in mid air, the black ram slid between his open legs, and in an instant he found himself sitting on its back and being carried deeper and deeper and ever deeper into the bowels of the earth. After a long, wild run it brought him into the kingdom of the underworlds. There, outside a city, the ram set down the lad and disappeared.

The underworld was strange, but beautiful. The sky was the color of rose petals, the clouds sea blue, the sun was a sparkling diamond and the trees resembled giant flowers of every hue. The city that spread out before was like something out of a fairy tale. He made his way towards the nearest house, a neat, well cared-for little cottage and the door was opened by a kindly old woman. The young man asked for a drink of water.

“Alas, we have no water in the city.”

She replied.

“A monster nobody can kill has dried the springs up with its magic tail, and our chief soothsayer tells us the water will only run again if the monster devours the daughter of our King.”

“So what have you done about it?”

Asked the lad.

“What else would we do, my son? We didn’t want to die of thirst, so in the end we tied the poor girl to a tree which stands by the great spring on that mountain over there. Now our only hope is that the monster will somehow take pity on our innocent princess.”

The moment the brave Carrot-top heard these words, he ran off up the mountain to the spot where the princess had been left, and hid himself behind a bush. Night fell and the monster came. The lad had kept his bow strung all this time, and he shot an arrow. It struck the monster in the belly, but could not pierce its scaly hide. He aimed again and hit it in the head, but once again the arrow bounced off, as if it had struck a rock.

“Let's try to hit him in that magic tail of his.”

The lad then said, and drawing his bow a third time, he planted an arrow in the tip of the creature's thrashing tail.

That did the trick! The hideous beast sank lifeless to the ground,  and as it did the strings began to flow again. Carrot-top ran over to the princess and untied the ropes that bound her. He helped her down the mountain, as far as the first houses in the city, then said:

“Now I must leave.”

“No, come with me to the palace.”

The princess begged.

“My father will want to meet you, and give you the reward which you deserve.”

“But I don’t belong here.”

Said the lad.

“I must make my way back to the upper world.”

“Why go to the upper world? Your King up there is evil. We have no evil men down here and everything is more beautiful. Now you have killed the monster, there is nothing in our world to give us pain or sadness.”

“It may be as you say, but my country is up there, and that is where I wish to go.”

And with these words he left the princess to make her own way back to the palace.

Next day, the King’s heralds came crying through the streets:

“Whoever killed the monster must present himself immediately at the palace, for our royal master desires to give him his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

But the brave young man was in love with the fair maiden of the well, and when he heard the king was asking for him he went back to the old woman’s cottage and begged her to hide him.

When three days passed and no one had appeared, the King sent his heralds out a second time, but again without result.

So then he set them out for a third time, to shout these words:

“Our mighty lord the King wishes to celebrate the rescue of our city and his daughter and so he invites you, one and all, young and old, to feast at his expense in the great square by the palace.”

But when the people came and the food was served, soldiers were out in force among the crowd and made sure that no one tried to take home anything to eat. This is how they caught the old woman, just as she was slipping a slice of pie into her bag. They ran to report the matter to the King.

“Go to her house immediately.”

He ordered.

“Arrest the man you find there and bring him straight to me.”

The soldiers rushed to the old woman’s cottage.

There they found the red-haired boy and marched him off to the palace.

When the King set eyes upon the fine young man they brought into his presence, he knew at once that this must be the hero who had killed the monster.

Just to make sure, he called his daughter in and she recognized her rescuer at once.

Then the King said:

“I promised I would give my daughter to whoever killed the monster - but to you I give my throne as well.”

“Most reverend Majesty…”

Replied the young man with regret.

“I am carrying the wedding dress of the maiden who awaits me. She is the girl I wish to take for my wife, and I desire neither a throne nor kingly powers. But if you wish to offer me some other reward, then all I ask is that you tell me how to reach the upper world.”

Now the King was a kind man, like all the people of the underworld, and he admired the bold young fellow for giving such an answer. Yet at the same time he was sorry he could not persuade him to take his daughter’s hand in marriage, for the lad was not only bold and fearless but seemed to have a noble soul. But as for how the King could help him, he did not know.

“It is a hard task you have set for me.”

He replied.

“But perhaps my seven wise men can be of some assistance. Let me take you to them.”

And so the King led Carrot-top through the palace until they reached the chamber of the seven wise men. Seeing that all of them were present, the King announced:

“I wish to ask a favor of you, gentlemen. Can any of you tell this young man how to reach the upper world? It is who saved us from the monster’s curse, and now we must pay him back by helping him return to the place where he belongs, for he feels himself a stranger here.”

“If only I could be of help…”

The first wise man replied.

“But, alas, I must confess I do not know.”

“Neither do I, to tell the truth.”

Added the second.

“Nor I.”

“Nor I.”

Responded each in turn.

“We must consult the seven great books.”

The first one finally decided.

“Go through them word by word.”

The King commanded.

“Leave not a page unturned, for some way must be found.”

And he left them to find an answer in the seven great books, while the young man stood waiting anxiously.

“I’ve found it!”

One of the wise men suddenly exclaimed.

“Look, it says here: ‘The upper world can only be reached with the help of the fresh killed snake.’”

“In other words?”

Enquired the lad.

“There are no other words. That’s it.”

“And that is all you’re going to tell me?”

“But that is all the great book says.”

Replied the wise man; and Carrot-top left the chamber looking very disappointed.

He walked and walked, not knowing where his steps were leading him, till in the end he was overcome with weariness and lay down beneath a tree. High up in its branches he could see a nest of baby eagles.

“Kaa! Kaa!”

He suddenly heard the young ones cry in fear - and not without reason, for a snake was slithering up the tree and making rapidly towards their nest. It did not have time to do the eaglets any harm, though, for the brave lad brought it tumbling down with an arrow through its lifeless head.

Moments later, he heard a rush of wings and two great birds hovering over him. They were the parents of the eaglets in the nest above.

“Aah!”

They croaked angrily.

“So you’re the one who keeps on coming here and eating up our chicks so we can’t have any children!”

And they swooped down, talons bared to claw his eyes out.

“No! No!”

Cried the chicks.

“This brave man just saved us from the snake!”

The two eagles looked down and saw the fresh-killed snake. Then they opened wide their spreading wings to make a shade for the young man to sleep beneath, for they could see he was very tired.

When he awoke, they asked if they could be of any service.

“Yes.”

Replied Carrot-top.

“If it is in your power, I would like you to carry me to the upper world.”

“That is no easy thing to ask.”

Replied the eagles.

“But when we see that serpent lying dead, we feel we owe the favor to you. Climb on the back of one of us and we shall carry you. But when you hear a “Kra!” you must jump across to the other eagle’s back. Like that, we’ll get some rest during the flight and will find the strength to take you where you want.”

The young man mounted one of the eagles and they soared into the heavens. They had been flying for some time when he heard a “Kra!” from the eagle he was seated on, and he jumped across to the other eagle’s back. A similar length of time had passed when he heard another “Kra!”, and he hopped across again. Twelve times he changed his seat before they reached the upper world, and when at least they landed, the eagles left the red-haired lad within walking distance of a city.

When the two great birds had disappeared from view, he took the road that led into the town. Having arrived, he did not know where to go, but at last he walked into a tailor’s shop and said:

“Will you take me on as an apprentice, master? All I ask is a little food to eat.”

The tailor let him in and made him his assistant. The lad worked hard and well, but the beautiful maiden of the well was never far from his thoughts.

She, meanwhile, was still a prisoner in the palace, and every day the King kept pestering her to marry him.

“You will become a Queen and live cradled in wealth and honors. What else could you possibly want?”

He reminded her time and time again. But the lovely maiden always thought of the young man she adored, and searched to find a way of escaping from the King, whose attention became daily more unwelcome.

“Listen, my lovely one.”

He said to her one day:

“Ask whatever you wish from me, and even if you set the most impossible task in the whole wide world, I'll do it for your sake, just as long as you promise to become my wife.”

When the girl heard these words, her face lit up with hope and she replied:

“Yes, there is one thing I long for, but I don’t know if my wish can ever be fulfilled. I want to be married in a wedding dress with a thousand pleats, embroidered with the sun, the moon and all the stars in the wide heavens, and yet so delicately woven that it can fit inside a walnut shell. And one more thing: I wish the man who brings this gift will become my loving husband.”

“At last!”

The old King cried.

“Now I shall make you mine, for I, and I alone, can carry out your wish.”

“But if by any chance you can’t? And if another comes who can, will you give me your solemn word that you will let me marry whoever presents me with the wedding dress?”

“I give you my word!”

Replied the King, certain that no one else could make her such a gift.

Having said this, the King sent out a proclamation announcing he would cut the head off every tailor in the kingdom unless, within three days, one could be found to sew for him a wedding dress which had a thousand pleats, embroidered with the sun, the moon and all the stars that shine down from the heavens - and all this fit inside a walnut shell.

Next morning, a great cry of despair went up from every tailor’s shop throughout the land. The tailor who had taken on young Carrot-top as his apprentice sat weeping hopeless tears. His wife wept, too, and their children wept along with them.

The first of the three dreaded days ticked by, and the second was drawing all too soon towards its close, when the young man told them:

“Weep no more. Just bring me walnuts and a little brandy and in the morning we will pay a visit to the King and deliver him the wedding dress. Then neither you nor any tailor in the kingdom will come to any harm.”

They ran to fetch the walnuts and a flask of brandy, adding in some almonds and a pot of honey for good measure.

Yet the tailor could not set his mind at rest, and when evening came he watched in secret to see if his apprentice was working on the dress. To his dismay, he saw instead the young man breaking open almond shells and walnuts, munching away and swinging from the brandy flask. Shaking his head in despair, the tailor crept back up to bed. The next morning, his last one on earth he feared, he went down to the shop to find his assistant fast asleep.

“All is lost!"

Groaned the tailor, and the whole family burst into tears once more. Their wailing woke up the young man. He washed, straightened his clothes and calmly told the tailor:

“Come on, it’s time to take the wedding dress to the King.”

“What dress? Have you gone mad? Where is it, then?”

“Why, where else would it be? Inside this walnut shell, of course.”

He took the maiden’s walnut from his pocket, opened it and drew out the dress. It shimmered in his hands, lovely beyond all belief. The tailor was beside himself with joy, and the whole family flew into each other’s arms, sobbing with relief.

Carrot-top folded the dress back in the walnut shell and put it in his pocket once again.

“But I am the one who should present it to the King!”

The tailor protested.

Now the tailor was not an evil man, of course, but the young fellow was learning from experience, and he thought:

“I didn’t take the King’s ten sons for bad men, either, but look how they left me down the well.”

And so he took another walnut from his pocket and gave it to the tailor, saying:

“Here you are, then. But we shall go to the King together.”

He added.

When the appointed hour arrived, the King was waiting anxiously in the palace. Beside him stood the lovely maiden, who could not wait to see whether the brave young man would come with the walnut shell that held her wedding dress.

Sure enough, a moment later the heralds sounded their trumpets, the great doors opened wide and into the palace stepped a tailor and her rescuer with his shock of fiery red hair.

The maiden’s face lit up with joy, while the King turned deathly pale.

“How did you get here, young Carrot-top?”

He gasped.

“I thought you had been eaten by the monster.”

“Your Majesty, it was I who killed the monster, not the princes.”

“How dare you say such things to me! Do you realize what you could be made to pay for insulting my brave sons?”

“No, King, you are the one who should be made to pay, and richly too.”

The maiden interrupted.

“For the truth is, it was this young hero who slew the beast and saved me when I was imprisoned in its lair.”

Then she told the King all that had happened, and how the ten princes had forced her to keep silent.

When the King heard the truth, he turned upon his sons in fury.

“Get out of here!”

He screamed.

“Let me never set eyes on you again!”

And he ordered his soldiers to drive them from the palace there and then.

“And what brings you here? You haven’t brought the dress, by any chance?”

“Oh yes, indeed most reverend sire.”

Replied the tailor, handing him the walnut with a deep bow.

“Thanks be to God!”

The King sighed in relief, happily fondling the walnut which the tailor had presented him.

The young man then asked boldly:

“My Lord, I hope you will allow me to offer this fair maid a walnut, too?”

And without waiting for an answer he quickly gave the lovely girl the walnut which was in his pocket.

The King broke open the nut he had been given by the tailor but there was nothing but a kernel in it, and a rotten one at that.

The girl then opened hers, drew out the wedding dress and threw herself at the young man’s arms.

“What’s going on here?”

Spluttered the King, ready to burst, he was furious.

The maiden answered calmly:

“You promised me that I could wed the man who brought the wedding dress I asked for. Here is the dress. And here is the man who gave it to me, so give us your blessing now.”

And with these words she took her hero’s hand and led him before the King.

Now whether he was too proud to go back on his promise or, more likely, because he had no other choice, the King agreed.

“You have my blessing.”

But he muttered it so low they hardly heard the words. Then his voice rose from a murmur to a scream:

“And as for you, you so called tailor, I’ll tear you limb from limb!”

“Not when we have chosen him as our best man.”

Replied the young man firmly.

What could the King say now? He stood there a long moment, completely lost for words. He thought and thought, then finally made up his mind.

“I have grown so used to always getting my way, and here I am, defeated in my turn. Well done, the pair of you! And I say this from the bottom of my heart, for it was your virtue and your love which got the better of me, two words I never knew the power of till today. I wish you both a long life and happiness, and I say it now in all sincerity.”

He stood there for a moment and then added:

“Rule with wisdom and with kindness, for I give you my throne as well. I have grown old. I have been slow to realize it, but at least I have done so when the time is right. And now, all speed! For tomorrow there shall be a royal wedding!”

A wedding there was, and they feasted and danced for nine joyful days and nights.

“I was at the wedding, too,

Dancing and feasting nine nights through.”

[crygimethydgoode]

Just Take Me Home chapter 9 - Tia Kofi x La Grande Dame, Plane Jane x Nymphia Wind summer in Italy college abroad/tour guide AU

“I got my first email when we were driving to Amalfi. And it almost made me cry,” Tia whispered. Dada let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking high right now,” she attempted to giggle. Dada’s stomach dropped. She was way too high for this too and now all she wanted to do was cry. Weren’t they just having fun? Wasn’t this just kind of easy?

“I’m sorry,” was all she knew to whisper, giving Tia a sad smile. Even though she wasn’t sorry at all. She was comforted to know that Tia had been feeling the dread, even before she was. “Jane told me- once I realized how fast the trip was moving - she said to let go of the dread. But I just…” Dada didn’t finish her sentence, she just shrugged. Tia patted her back, Dada turned to look at her. Tia gave her a tiny smile.

“What she should’ve said is to be delusional. That’s way easier. Zip me up?”

Now Dada’s hands were shaking as she deliberately took her time to zip Tia’s dress, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder before saying, unable to help a grin;

“Well, it was better than what Nymphia told me to do…”

“She gave you that whole speech too? She’s the worst!”

“I’M LISTENING TO YOU GIRLS. FUCK YOU! WE’RE ALL DONE, HURRY UP!”

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55522132/chapters/149076604

Masterlist

Chapter nine

rose colored lenses - sardinia

let’s stay like this forever

(let’s just keep pretending)

…

“IS EVERYONE BUCKLED?! IS EVERYONE SAFE?!” Jane called way too loudly from the front of the bus. They had just arrived on the Italian island of Sardinia after the… rememberable fifteen hour ferry ride from Naples. Nobody responded. “Ho-Kay! That’s a yes; and if you die we will NOT be held accountable! Anyway first, we’ve gotta drop our stuff off and settle in! The drive will be about an hour to our… well you’ll see…”Jane had a mischievous smile that horrified Tia. She turned to see Dada’s reaction, but for the first time in ages she wasn’t looking back at her with a soft smile.

Tia swore it was easier to catch Dada’s eye when she was just a stranger at the beginning of the trip that just seemed too far away. She wished she was there again despite how exhausted she was, despite how ready she was to sleep for three days straight in her new apartment in Perugia. Every time Tia thought about having to say goodbye to Dada, about her best summer yet ending in mere days, she wanted to cry. Did Dada even care? Or was she ready to go back to hating Tia already? Now she really wanted to cry. But of course she couldn’t on the bus, where Nymphia was standing up, snatching the mic from Jane.

“Moving on!” Nymphia chirped. “After we drop off all our shit we will head back here to Cagliari to eat lunch and then start our tour that I found online! Some of the places were boring and ugly, so I replaced them with some AMAZING spots for photoshoots. You’re welcome! The tour will take us to sunset and then we’ll go back and the rest of the night is yours to SLAY!”

Tia, Crystal, Dada, and Gothy all looked at Nymphia, horrified.

“Nymphia, have you been possessed by Jane?” Crystal asked slowly.

“Maybe something like that,” she shrugged as she sat down, Jane sitting right beside her, grinning. Tia and Dada sat on either side of the aisle, trying to catch each other's gaze just so they could look away. It suddenly felt very quiet. Had then been the loud ones? The ones always filling the silence? They started the hour drive, still refusing to look at each other but noticing Nymphia’s rolling eyes. Tia didn’t even know what she wanted to say to Dada. Other than to profusely apologize and hope that she would apologize too. But for some reason Tia felt too proud, or too dramatic, to extend any sort of olive branch yet. Would Dada even want to talk about it? Why did Tia feel so lost?

“Why did we have to stay forty five minutes away from Cagliari?” Gothy groaned as she honked at a car that cut her off.

“Gothy, trust me. It’s worth it.”

_

Though the drive was only an hour, Tia swore it was way longer, the most boring hour of her life. Pretty though, the rocky coastline and turquoise ocean was beautiful. But how could Tia bring herself to care? After driving parallel to a golden sand beach for about half a mile, Gothy took a left down a long dirt road.

“Now folks,” Jane said mysteriously into the microphone. “I was indeed able to secure us a more… private- accommodation. I figured we deserved it. This will be our true last home, after all.”

“Jane…” Nymphia trailed off, standing at the front of the bus and looking out in awe. “Oh my fucking god- oh my god I’m going to CRY!!!” She was jumping up and down while holding Jane’s arm. Finally, Tia and Dada’s excited eyes met as they both stood to look out too. Wherever the hell they were staying was so secluded, they could barely see the huge gate through the thick tree vines.

“Oh my god…” They said in unison. Jane was literally bouncing.

“Girls, that’s just the gate…”

“Jane what the fuck did you do?!?”

“I RENTED US A VILLA. YES! A FUCKING VILLA! LIKE ON LOVE ISLAND! THE WHOLE THING. IT WAS SO EXPENSIVE. SOSOSO EXPENSIVE! BUT BECAUSE WE CUT SO MUCH OUT OF THE ITINERARY WE HAD ALL THIS EXTRA MONEY!!!”

“That makes no sense!” Crystal cackled.

“Who cares!? We have a PRIVATE LUXURY FUCKING VILLA!” They were all jumping together now, causing the bus to shake.

“EVERYONE SIT DOWN! JANE GO LET US IN!!!”

“You’re so right Gothy.”

After Jane opened and closed the gate and boarded the bus again, the villa started to come into view. Everyone was speechless, scrambling to the front of the bus to catch a glimpse. The villa (which was basically a mansion) was built on top of a hill overlooking the ocean, that they could just barely see from behind the large exterior itself. “EVERYONE BACK AWAY! FORM AN ORDERLY LINE-ow! Nymphia!” Jane yelped as Nymphia pushed past her as the bus doors opened. The rest of the group trampled over her, and she came out last, looking like a mess.

“OKAY EVERYONE! GOOD ORDERLY LINE! Ow. I KNOW I’M SO AMAZING FOR DOING THIS FOR YOU! BUT WE HAVE TO DO ROOM ASSIGNMENTS! Now, though we have a luxurious villa, we won't have our own rooms. In fact, all but TWO of us will get our own room, the rest of us will be matched in pairs. Gothy and Crystal, out of the kindness of their hearts offered to share…”

“No I fucking didn’t…” Gothy muttered, sharing a confused look with Crystal and Jane.

“And out of fairness, Dada and I will be sharing rooms… withNymphiaandTia- DO WE have any buddies willing to volunteer to share?” Jane looked around at the group excitedly as a few pairs began to come forward. The rest of the group quickly had a rock-paper-scissors tournament before pairing up amongst themselves, two victorious winners getting the two private rooms. “Okay! That was way easier than I thought it would be! LETS GO EXPLORE THIS VILLA! FOLLOW ME!” Jane didn’t move very far though, clearly overwhelmed as she looked at the multiple different entrance points, some had doors, some were just random archways or paneless windows. What, did it just never rain at this place? “Uhh… we’ll try this one!”

They walked towards what Jane hoped to be the front door, luckily, it was. The group gasped as they all entered, looking around in wonder. They were greeted with a wide hallway, with a long table at the end that split the open concept layout. On the right, there was a giant, professional, yet classy, chef's kitchen that included a brick-pizza oven and full bar. Every wall was painting a bright sky blue, and there were live exotic plants and beautiful Italian art pieces covering every inch of the walls. It looked like just downstairs there were two different living rooms alone.

“Oh god, the kitchen is so beautiful and we’re definitely going to ruin it. You girls don’t know the feasts I make when drunk. I never eat them,” Crystal sighed. On cue, a gorgeous, bronze, shirtless man with pink short-shorts emerged from a door at the back of the kitchen. Jane screamed.

“EVERYONE GET BEHIND ME, I’LL FIGHT HIM OFF!” She was already squared up as the man laughed.

“No need to fight. Plane, right?” The man asked, she instantly softened.

“Plane, yes. I am Plane. Yes,” She almost whispered. The man laughed again, loud and bright.

“It’s nice to meet you all. I am your personal chef, Bruno. I will be here to cook for you these next four days, but I also have local restaurant recommendations if you’d rather eat out.” Nobody could say anything, they just stood mesmerized by Bruno and his silky voice, unable to even question why he was dressed like that.

“Anything else you’ve got cooking, Bruno?” Vanjie pushed herself to the front of the group. Bruno looked away, blushing. Tia couldn’t help but chuckle, realizing it had been five minutes and so much had already happened. They didn’t even have croissants at most of the hotels they stayed at, and now they have a personal chef? “Come,” Bruno continued. “I will give you a tour of our beautiful Villa.” Jane didn’t even object, or try to say she could do it alone because she was the real tour guide, she just followed Bruno silently.

He pointed at one of the many living rooms as he led the group across the hall. He pointed with two fingers down another hallway. “Down there are some of our gorgeous bedrooms you will be staying in. Each bedroom has its own personal bathroom, each beautiful and unique, much like you, Vanessa…” Vanjie linked arms with Bruno as he led them to a side door outside. They turned right onto the patio that had a long dinner table with plants hanging above it as well as a few sun loungers. “This is one of the beautiful dining arrangements you can all use for group dinners or meetings or whatever you want to do.” He led them down a few steps where they were shown a table for two with red roses in a vase. “This is for anyone who wants some more personal and private time together.” Nymphia and Jane beamed at each other, Tia couldn’t bring herself to check if Dada was looking at her.

Bruno walked further down a series of stone steps that lead down the hill to a pool that was within twenty feet of their private beach. It was then they got the full view of the outside of the villa. The land seemed to go on forever despite Tia being able to hear the crashing waves from where she stood, the hill itself was all grass but faded into sand towards the bottom, and the wall of trees between their neighbors was so thick, she couldn’t see them if she tried.

“Are we… Are we on Love Island?” Crystal whispered as Bruno showed them a private spot for two a little further down on the beach.

“Love island would have a swinging outdoor couch but other than that, yes.”

“Oh Nymphia, please,” Bruno chuckled good naturedly. “We have an outdoor swinging bed.”

“This is the best day of my life.”

Tia was shocked as they were led back up the many steps that they took down, Nymphia didn’t complain once, or force herself in front of everyone and bitch at them to move faster, she just followed behind Bruno.

“Final stop on our tour, because you all deserve to also find the beauty of the villa by yourself… the fire pit.” He gestured to the giant circle fire pit with seats all around it.

“Oh my god… we’re on Love Island!!!” Nymphia grinned.

“Yes we are… Come, Bruno. I’m pulling you for a chat!” Vanjie said in a terrible English accent.

“Girls… Bruno… is…”

“He’s amazing.” Nymphia cut Jane off.

“I love him,” Dada nodded, Tia didn’t realize how quiet she’d been until now.

“I miss him… but Jane, what’s this about Gothy and I offering to share?!” Crystal asked, snapping all the girls out of their trance.

“Um… I’m amazing. There were actually four people who got their own rooms. But I couldn’t make it look completely rigged, those little fucks still need to tip us at the end of the week.” Dada’s stomach dipped at Jane’s casual reminder.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much Jane! C’mon, we have to find our rooms before the others catch on to your scheme!”

“Yes! Let’s go to your rooms Crystal and Gothy! I also totally rigged it so we got the cutest rooms.” Jane began to lead them to where she hoped Crystal’s room was. “We’re all like… on the same side of the villa… I think… We’re at least all on the first floor?” After checking every room on the right side of the villa, they finally found Crystal’s, the first door on the left. “Okay Crystal…”

“OH MY GOD!” Crystal squealed as she threw herself on her bed. Her room had clean white walls with ocean blue trim that matched her bedspread and windows. In fact, everything in her room was stained a rusty blue, purely august.

“You haven’t even seen your BATHROOM yet!” Jane pulled Crystal up and into the bathroom where she actually SCREAMED. Tha bathroom had a gorgeous cobblestone sink that matched the stone in her shower. The ceiling was painted in wild shades of blue, resembling the ocean.

“This is crazy. I- this is crazy! Thank you so much, Jane!” Crystal threw herself into Jane’s arms, who was crying.

“You are so welcome, sister. Gothy, your room is directly across from Crystal’s!” Gothy beamed at Jane as she took one peak in her room before saying:

“I need to film. Now. Oh my god this is beautiful.” The door shut behind her.

“Girls… I’m so happy you’re happy!” Jane giggled, wiping a tear.

“Okay cute moment whatever, let's go see OUR room, Jane!” And so the five of them all wandered around the villa until they finally found Jane and Nymphia’s room. They all gasped upon entering, Nymphia’s jaw dropped as she looked around in wonder. Their room was painted a blinding white, that matched the bed perfectly. There was a clear, round door that led outside to a private sitting zone overlooking the sea with two sun loungers. The marble tile flowed into the bathroom, which looked a little basic until you walked back further to the jacuzzi tub with a circular window with a view, and was surrounded by a mural of the ocean.

Nymphia for once, had nothing to say. She just smiled up at Jane and pulled her into a kiss. Why did Tia feel like clapping? Maybe because she’d never seen Nymphia like this… outwardly happy without a backhanded comment. She saw Dada forcing down a broad smile out of the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but smile too. Jane was blushing as she silently ushered them out of the room, trying to find Tia and Dada’s room.

“I won't lie, your room is the best… well- maybe not the best but definitely the coolest!” Jane said, glancing between them, who wouldn’t even glance at each other. Nymphia’s brow furrowed as she rolled her eyes again.

“Why are you both being so quiet? You seriously didn’t work things out? On the remix?” She said it so casually like everyone knew Dada and Tia were… not fighting, but not…hanging off each other as usual. Not wasting a breath of space between them… just having an awkward moment. Not speaking. At the moment. Whatever.

Dada said nothing and Tia couldn’t even close her dropped jaw, let alone think to form a sentence. That didn’t stop Nymphia. “Yeah, we all remember what you said to Tia last night, Dada. Already talked shit about it. What you said was pretty rude, especially to Tia who definitely doesn’t have a good relationship with being called annoying. BUT, Tia, you were annoying at times last night. Like, even I was a little bothered at one point, and I’m the worst out of all of us. So… so maybe you’re both in the wrong and should just call a draw, you know? We’re literally leaving in less than a week, which I know you were really torn up about the other day, Dada, like crying about it, but-”

Maybe Nymphia stopped because of Dada’s sudden coughing fit, or maybe because of Tia’s face in utter disbelief, or maybe she processed what she was actually saying. But nevertheless, she stopped. Thank god. “You know what? I’m sorry I opened my mouth in the first place. I think I see your room.”

If Tia and Dada weren’t awkward before, they sure were now; both their faces flushed red as they entered their room. But for a moment, all feelings were pushed aside as they entered, because holy shit this fucking room. All the walls were cobblestone with gold speckled limestone-green floors. They had a few aperture window cut-outs, close enough to the ground and wide enough that they could easily hop in and out. Tia spotted a small counter table with a bottle of champagne on it, and she couldn’t help but smile at Dada who was finally smiling too.

“Jane…” Dada scoffed, finally walking down the small step by the end of their bed and spotting-

“Shower. In. The. Bedroom. SHOWER. IN. THE. BED. ROOM.” Everyone couldn’t help but look at the open aperture windows. “Oh! There’s secret sliding glass, and these gorgeous, thick curtains…” Jane led them down a hallway that doubled as a closet to the actual bathroom with a huge mirror and tiling on the walls that matched the limestone floors. “Well, that’s it!” Jane said excitedly, clearly not reading the slight awkward tension that still loomed.

“Alright so… I think we’ll leave you two alone for a second…” Nymphia and Jane both slipped out of the room without another word. Tia and Dada were alone, being forced to talk about last night. They both slowly wandered over to the bed from the bathroom and plopped down, a little embarrassed. Why did it even have to come to this? Luckily, Tia didn’t have to speak first. Dada put a hand on Tia’s knee, because she still could, and gave her a sad smile.

“I am sorry. Last night… I was… I think I was just feeling sorry for myself. I don’t know, I wasn’t upset with you, just the whole… the whole way things went. The situation. I’m sorry. I wasn’t mad at you, I don’t think I could ever be… or at least stay mad.” Dada said, honestly. “I’m sorry.” And Tia’s stomach dropped again. Dada was just too good for her. Tia was being awful. And Dada still forgave her.

“No. I was being a bitch last night. I was messy, and not funny messy, stupid messy. I was a bitch to everyone, even you. Which I hate. And I do like being a bitch sometimes, it’s funny when everyone is laughing too, but they weren’t. I don’t like being a bitch to you. I’m sorry too. Really really sorry.”

And then Dada’s head was on Tia’s shoulder, wrapping arms and legs around her and pulling them back on the bed, a heap of giggles. And the world felt a little more aligned again. “Let’s never be mad at each other again.” Tia whispered. They laughed harder. “Okay but actually lets go explore outside-” but Dada pulled her back onto the bed.

“Or… we could check out the shower,” She said, teasingly holding Tia’s gaze, she missed this. Tia just gave her a wicked look, slightly shaking her head as she fought back a grin. She missed this.

“This villa will be here forever, we will not be.” Tia finally let a smile break across her face as she pulled Dada off the bed and down the few steps leading to the shower. She began to pull off her shirt but was cut off by Nymphia.

“CLOSE YOUR WINDOWS IDIOTS!” She cackled. “MAKE UP SEX! MAKE UP SEX!” Dada couldn’t help but laugh too as she ran to close the windows and draw the curtains.

“Sorry we’re desperate…” Dada blushed as she made her way back to Tia, who just kissed her through a grin. She hoped it could be this easy to fall back into each other forever.

Or at least until the trip ended.

_

“Okay let’s load in and get this party started! Gothy will be dropping us off at ANFITEATRO ROMANO DI CAGLIARI! We were going to lunch first, but who knew we had a beautiful private chef, Bruno! Thanks to him, we saved so much time. We will be there in 45 minutes!” Nymphia put the mic back and ran to join Jane at the back of the bus, who was grinning at Tia and Dada curled up in their seats.

“You girls… are so- I’m so happy you made up!” Crystal beamed from the seat in front of them. “It’s annoying for you to act heartbroken when I just got out of a four year relationship!” They all laughed, Dada nuzzled closer to Tia, pressing a quick kiss on her neck. The drive was forty-five minutes but Tia swore it only lasted fifteen, time really was flying. They parked on the side of the road.

“They can’t tow a fucking tour bus,” Gothy muttered as she opened the doors. “I’m sick of driving.”

“Okay folks! It’s only about a ten minute walk to the amphitheater, follow me!” Jane sang, walking with one hand in the air that Nymphia swatted down.

“Follow me!”

“So is this place boring and ugly or boring and kind of cute?” Tia asked Dada, who had linked arms with her the second they got off the bus, already trying to make up for lost time.

“I don’t know. We don’t usually come here on tours, usually we go to Catanzaro on tour for our last city,” Just saying it out loud made her heart drop. “Probably boring-pretty though, especially if Nymphia made edits.”

“So true.” Tia wished she could think of something else to talk about, desperate to fill their silence. Usually she adored their comfortable silence, almost proud of how at ease they both felt around each other, but now she didn’t want to waste a single second not talking to Dada. They didn’t have the time to waste. Tia felt an ache in the back of her throat as her eyes burned slightly. What the fuck was this? She couldn’t start tearing up, not now, not when her and Dada just made up and were happy again. Maybe that’s why she was tearing up, though.

“OKAY WE ARE HERE!” Nymphia cheered as they reached the entrance. Tia could see a bit of the amphitheater, which was exactly how she pictured it, old and broken like most historic landmarks they visited. Basically an even more boring version of the Colloseum in Rome. But they could see the ocean? Tia and Dada shared a look, amused and unimpressed.

“Nymphia… you chose this place?” Jane asked, a familiar tone in her voice. Nymphia gave her a weird look. “I’m just saying… I kind of expected better considering all the bitching and moaning you did about my itinerary. Didn’t you make edits?” Nymphia’s jaw was now dropped, but eyes slightly amused.

“Jane!” She gasped.

“No! No, don't get me wrong. It’s… cute… adorable even.” Dada’s jaw dropped into a grin.

“Tia, I think you’re about to meet Jane. Bitchy Jane. Shady Jane. You’re about to meet the… real Jane.”

“Okay… well let's go, I have a Tiktok I wanna make.” They all followed Nymphia in while glancing at Jane, who was glancing around unimpressed. Tia couldn’t help but laugh at the slight pout on her face. They walked down a series of steps that led them into the amphitheater. Nymphia walked backwards next to Jane as she talked to the group. “So this place is actually really cool! THOUSANDS of people would gather here to watch public executions, gladiator fights, and humans fighting animals! So remember that as you wander.” The group looked a little scared as they dispersed. “See. It’s COOL, Jane!”

“I mean… take away the history… and it’s just an ugly ruin. Is it really anything worth exploring?” Jane crossed her arms, still unimpressed.

“THOSE SQUARE DOOR THINGS RIGHT THERE. YEAH. RIGHT THERE. FUCKING GLADIATORS CAME OUT OF THERE. CRIMINALS CAME OUT OF THERE BEFORE EXECUTION, JANE. THEY KEPT FUCKING LIONS, TIGERS, OR BEARS OR WHATEVER THEY FOUGHT IN THERE!” Jane just rolled her eyes.

“Okay Judy Garland!” She exclaimed sarcastically. They all burst out laughing, even Nymphia couldn’t hide her smile.

“JANE! I didn’t know you were so…”

“Amazing, I know!” Dada beamed as she threw her arms around Jane. “I’ve missed the real Jane, I’ve missed your cunty self…” Jane laughed as she pushed Dada off.

“I’m afraid I’ve shown my true colors… and those colors bleed,” she said with an evil look in her eye. Jane continued to bitch the whole tour, sounding exactly like Nymphia in the beginning of the trip, which oddly thrilled Nymphia? Eventually Tia and Dada got bored and decided to go smoke a joint, looking out over the city they were about to explore.

“Hopefully Nymphia’s next photoshoot spot is cuter than this one… even though this view is pretty,” Tia passed the joint to Dada, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Are you talking about me?” Dada teased, blowing the smoke in Tia’s face as she coughed. What cheesy romcom were they living in?

“Shut up…” Tia wished she had a flirtier comeback, but she was too nervous, the ball in her chest was too tight, if they smoothed things out then why didn’t it feel any easier? “You know-,” Tia didn’t even know what she wanted to say, but Nymphia cut her off anyway.

“Jane is annoying me so we are cutting this stop short! Hope you’re proud Jane. You want to go somewhere pretty? Let’s go somewhere fucking pretty!”

_

It was another ten minute walk to their next location.

“JARDÍN BOTÁNICO DE CAGLIARI! Yeah, this place is actually gorgeous! Plenty of places for pictures and to stare out wistfully like you’re the main character! There’s a lot to do and see so feel free to see this as a self guided walking tour and relaxation spot! Meet back here in like- an hour I guess. SLAY!”

“SLAY!” They all cheered back, Nymphia really had become a little tour guide. The five of them explored the gardens together, walking slowly as they took in every winding branch, careful to avoid the children running and laughing around them.

“Nymphia, you really slayed this. Like… I have to tell my nerdy-millennial biology Professor about this place once I get back home. I’m going to need to buy more storage on my phone…” Crystal muttered as she gently touched one of the flowers they were walking by, snapping a quick picture. “OMG! We have to make wishes in the fountain!” She was sprinting to the fountain that was barely visible, they all followed quickly, rummaging through their tote bags for coins to throw in. As they reached the fountain that was coated in lily pads, Dada silently pressed a coin in Tia’s hand.

“Everyone think of your wish,” Crystal waited a few moments, “Okay… now toss!” Crystal tossed hers in without hesitation, closing her eyes as if that sealed the deal. Maybe it did, so Tia closed her eyes as she flipped her coin into the fountain, hearing it plop gently into the water. She caught the tail end of Dada tossing her coin in, she wore a soft smile. She turned to meet Tia’s gaze.

“What did you wish for?” She asked. Crystal let out a shard gasp before Tia could answer.

“You can’t tell anyone! It won’t come true, duh… party foul, Dada.” Tia just gave Dada a weak smile, like she could’ve said it out loud.

“We probably wished for the same thing,” She said, suddenly aware of the silence. Dada just looked at Tia, laughing lightly despite the ache in her chest.

“Cool. I have a really cool spring to show you, LETS GO!” And for once everyone was thankful for Nymphia’s bluntness. Dada grabbed Tia’s hand as they followed Nymphia, who was naming all the plants they walked by. The entire park was almost a neon green despite it being the end of August. If Tia was back home in Essex the tops of trees would just barely be turning orange, but not in Italy, not with Dada.

And though the weaving trees and blending scents of all the species of plants around were beautiful, Tia’s chest ached too. She couldn’t help it, she felt a whole new sense of pining. Every dip in her stomach was replaced with an ache in her heart, her eyes weren’t shining in awe anymore, they were glossed over with tears. This part was not on her Pinterest board… the sad part. Dada forgave her, sure, but maybe that was just until the end of the trip. Maybe it was just easier for Dada to forgive her, to make things less awkward for the last week. Maybe Dada just wanted to stretch this tour out, make her last till the end of the summer, and Tia was embarrassed to be completely fine with that. It was then Dada squeezed her hand, snapping her out of her trance. They locked eyes and Tia could only hold her gaze for a few seconds.

What was Dada thinking?

What Tia would do to take just a glimpse into her brain for a second, see if her thoughts were just as cloudy as hers. “See why I can’t wait for the tour to be over now?” The words from the night before still rang in Tia’s head, Dada probably thought she didn’t remember, and she would let her think that. Tia forced herself to look at Dada again, this time sending a smile that she hoped was bright.

“We’re here!!!” Nymphia called out, doing a little spin in front of the basin with a spring protruding from a short cliff. “It’s like a little water fall! So cute, so nature!” Everything was so bright, why did it have to be so bright? And why did Dada have to look so beautiful as she basked in it all?

“Nymphia…”

“Say it, say I’m a better tourguide than you!”

“No… it’s photoshoot time,” Jane giggled.

“OKAY! But we need to make it quick cause the underground city is next and I need to hire a real tourguide to show us around.”

“Um… I'm a real tour guide, Nymphie. Licensed or whatever. I can easily guide us through the silly tourist attraction,” Jane scoffed.

“No… like, they really recommend a trained and a professional tour guide. It’s basically a maze…”

“Shut up. I can do it. Let’s go. I’M A REAL TOUR GUIDE. But let's get some pictures first.

_

“Nymphia, I-”

“Jane, I don’t want to fucking talk to you,” Nymphia had sped in front of the rest of the group, straight into the sun that was rapidly setting.

“Oh! So you think you could do better?” Jane huffed, leaning forward to gain speed as she caught up to Nymphia.

“NO! I THINK THE PROFESSIONAL TOUR GUIDE WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER AT TAKING US ON THE HOUR AND A HALF TOUR, BUT INSTEAD WE GOT LOST AND THEY SENT THE TOUR GUIDE ANYWAY TO FIND US, AFTER BEING GONE FOR THREE HOURS, JANE! SO NOW WE’RE ON SEGWAYS SO WE CAN MAKE IT TO OUR LOOKOUT POINT BEFORE SUNSET.”

Tia, Crystal, and Dada were gripping their handles to steady themselves as they wheezed. And it was okay, Dada was okay, good even. She was having fun. Thank god she smoothed things over with Tia, thank god she could still soak her up while she could. Maybe if she got enough of Tia, it could last her a lifetime, be a beautiful story to tell forever. The girl from the UK who ruled her summer. Well, it was only a month, and actually it was the end of summer. But what had Dada even done that summer before this? Drink dry wine on her terrace, smoke on the hill looking over the vineyard, staying up late with her roommates then sleeping for half the day?

All she could remember from before the tour was dreading the tour beginning. What planet was she living on, and what would it be like to go back home? Dada had never been able to live in the moment, she was scared of people who could. She wasn’t scared of Tia, did that mean she was worrying too? Dreading the inevitable future? Dada hoped she was, as terrible as it may sound. But be happy. Dada pleaded silently as she looked at Tia who was doubled over in laughter. Be happy without me if that’s what it takes. They all came to a quick halt as the city eye came into view, the Ferris wheel was lit with flashing lights, going from neon pink to orange to purple to green and blue.

“Okay, park your segways here, we’ll ride them back to the bus too, cuz they’re really fun but Jane was pissing me off so I didn’t even get to enjoy it.” Nymphia had already bought the group tickets online. They watched as she handed out the tickets before joining the rest of the girls in the line that was moving surprisingly fast. Tia and Dada stood behind the rest of the girls, and Tia couldn’t help but notice the carts only fit groups of four. She could feel Dada looking at her with pleading eyes. She had been closed off, much like Dada had been at the beginning of the trip. When was Tia ever quiet, not shameless? Why couldn’t she find the right words to say, or any words at all?

“Can we get one just for two?” She asked once Gothy, Nymphia, Jane, and Crystal had gotten into their gondola-like cart. Tia was met with a quick nod, and they watched as the girls rose in the sky. They were ushered into their cart, everything too quiet, looking at the view rather than each other. It was easier that way, Dada’s thoughts could reel faster when she let herself zone out at the beautiful view, probably one of the last ones on the trip. “Say something,” her chest begged. “Anything.” The wheel moved up.

“I don’t want the trip to end.” The words came out abruptly, as if even Dada didn’t know they would slip out. “I- I am always waiting for it to end and now- I don’t want this to end,” Dada said, finally looking at Tia, she swore her eyes looked different from when they first met. Tia didn’t even know what to say, what the fuck was she supposed to say? Of course she didn’t want things to end either, but… Did Dada really just say it out loud? Was this going to be easier than Tia had hoped?

“I mean- it doesn’t necessarily have to… like- like we can… We don’t have to end. We already have each other’s numbers. And Instagrams. You’ve got Snapchat, right?” Tia asked tentatively.

The wheel moved up further.

“I do but…I hate it, or more like I suck at answering… and I don’t do streaks… but I do occasionally post on my Private story. Sometimes I sell bud if I have extra from growing,” Tia had to laugh at that, of course she liked a Snapchat pot dealer. “We could FaceTime? I like talking to you.”

“Well- where do you live? How far is it from Perugia?” Tia felt weirdly brave.

Could this actually work out? Why couldn’t it? What was actually stopping them?

“San Martino Sul Fiora. Two hours.”

Fuck.

“Oh… that’s pretty far…” Tia trailed off, knowing she wasn’t worth that time. As if she could ever ask Dada to do that for her anyway, how pathetic would that be? Basically begging her to stay.

“Well, it’s not that far. Two hours is like… one Taylor Swift album. Not long enough, if the right song comes on,” Dada was smiling softly, and Tia’s body felt light again. She felt like she was two weeks into the trip and watching the sunset with Dada, asking why her locket was empty. Like they had all the time in the world. Like it was the real beginning.

And the Ferris wheel rose again, reaching the top. They both took a moment to look out at the gorgeous view of the port town, docks, and massive city of Cagliari, most of the roofs a dusty orange that blended so beautifully with the now purple sky. In the distance Tia could barely make out a hazy mountain range across the ocean. She looked to see Dada’s reaction, and wasn’t surprised at all when she found her looking back. Tia grabbed her hand.

“Or you could find, like, a true crime podcast, those make time fly.”

“On my way to see you?? Why? I would be so down in the dumps. A Drag Race podcast though, those are good to listen to on long drives.” Dada said like it was the most simple thing in the world, like she’d been making the drive down the long hill to see Tia for months before. And they were both grinning.

“So you can come visit? Like- if you want to?”

“Yes, of course,” Dada’s voice was so soft, she moved across, sitting next to Tia. She started to rub soft circles on the side of her thigh. “Of course. If you want me. I- Only if you want me to.”

“Of course I do. And-and if I can find a way, of course I’ll try to come see you. Because like, I’ll probably have time off. When I’m not doing homework and getting blackout drunk… the weekends– oh– well…” Tia trailed off, realizing something. By the look on Dada’s face, set in a defeated grimace, she already knew.

The Ferris wheel began to make its way down again.

“Weekends aren’t much of a thing with your program. Not for us or– for me at least. For you… it will be wonderful.”

“Are they really sending us to a different European city EVERY weekend? I swear I didn’t pay for that, I can’t afford it,” Tia was conveniently forgetting that was another reason why she chose this specific program, working overtime two summers in a row to even think about affording it.

“No, no, not every weekend. Most of them, though. Most weekends you will be gone,” Dada was doing such a bad job at keeping her voice neutral, Tia was doing a bad job at trying not to cry. She now remembered excitedly seeing pictures on the website of students at Oktoberfest in Munich, seeing the leaves change in Paris, ice skating on the canals in Amsterdam. Nearly every weekend. How convenient.

And they moved closer to the ground, seeing the other people waiting in line the way they just were, so naively heartbroken about saying goodbye just seven minutes ago. Tia didn’t know she could feel so much worse in such a short Ferris wheel ride.

“I forgot about that. How could I forget about that?” Tia let herself bask in the dread for a moment, forcing the tears back into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. Please don’t. I mean, I’m jealous. You are going to have so much fun. A lot more fun than you would have being cooped up with me. I’ll be- who knows the next time you’ll have opportunities like this. I will be busy during the week too. It’s harvest season in Tuscany, at the vineyard. I have to help my grandmother more and more these days.”

How were they supposed to be okay with this? How was this okay at all? How was Tia supposed to go from seeing Dada everyday to remembering her everyday, recognizing her in every little thing? With no promise of the weekends? How does that work out?

The Ferris wheel moved closer to the ground as the stale feeling continued to set in.

“So what… are we gonna do?” Tia felt so small, looking at Dada with tears shining in both of their eyes, neither willing to accept the inevitable. She almost wished she never brought it up, let them live in ignorance this last week.

“We’ll figure it out. We will. We’ll keep in touch,” that hurt to hear more than Tia ever thought it would. That’s what she told her high school friends she would do, and her coworkers from her first shitty job. They would keep in touch. When was the last time she talked to any of them?

They were basically at the ground now, seeing as Jane, Nymphia, Crystal, and Gothy got out of their car, Jane visibly stressed from the heights. Maybe they’d become friends Tia would swear she’d keep in touch with too.

But what could she do about it?

“Right. Keep in touch.”

Dada spoke in the saddest whisper. They had finally finished the ride, they had spent the time looking at each other, fuck the view. She ran her thumb across Tia’s hand.

“Tia. We’ll be alright.”

_

They made it back to the villa around 10pm, all feeling worn out. This seemed to be the most they’ve done in a day since… Rome? How could Tia not remember? All she knew was they all couldn’t wait to crawl into their amazing bedrooms. When they walked through the door they were greeted with the amazing smell of carbonara that all the girls ate quickly, desperate to get back to their rooms.

“Okay girls, we oughta go to bed early. Tomorrow is going to be like a movie.”

“Jane… This entire trip has been like a movie…” Crystal muttered through a full mouth that she covered with her hand. “It’s more like a TV show, actually… So what's tomorrow's episode, Jane?”

“Um, that would be a spoiler, Crystal.”

“I always read spoilers,” Crystal replied easily.

“Well- let’s just say, tomorrow we make a SPLASH!” The girls just all looked at Jane who was clearly thrilled at her disappointing answer. “You girls can trust me at least for these few last days, you think I cater to anyone in this tour group besides us, sisters? All you need to know if we’re swimming and getting drunk,” she shrugged.

“So… what we’ve been doing every beach day for the past two weeks?”

“Yeah, but like…”

“It’s Italy,” Dada said softly, pulling Tia in closer. “Everyday feels like a beach day, rain or shine.”

“OKAY! BEDTIME!” All the girls just laughed as they put their dishes in the sink, washing them off to make Bruno’s day a little easier in the morning. Nymphia and Jane seemed to have disappeared the second they had all begun moving, and Crystal wasn’t long to follow.

“C’mon, I swear we haven’t seen any of our room besides the shower,” Tia giggled as she dragged Dada to what she hoped to be the right hallway to their room, passing Bruno and Vanjie who were dressed in formal attire.

“G’night ladies! Glad you’ve made up!” Vanjie cackled, arm in arm with Bruno. They couldn’t help but laugh.

“What… What even is Vanjie? I don’t think she’s human… Why does she know everything and everyone?” Dada asked gently, as if Tia had a better answer. They had made it to the door of their room and somehow it felt like coming home. Tia didn’t answer Dada’s question, she just held up the bottle of champagne. “Ugh, yes please.” Tia laughed, walking over to join Dada on the bed, bottle and glasses in hand. “Ooo we’re using glasses? Feeling classy, miss Tia?”

“Ew no, you’re right, I don’t even know why I grabbed these,” Tia laughed. Dada watched as Tia opened their windows, the fresh air instantly filling their room. She crawled into bed, leaving the glasses abandoned dangerously balanced on the window sill. They passed the bottle back and forth as they did what they’d always do, say everything they wanted to say when they were with the group, laugh about Nymphia and;

“Bitchy Jane… I see why you miss her!” Tia giggled. Dada just took the bottle from her hands, smiling as she took a swig.

“I hope she’s here to stay. It’s weird, but when you meet bitchy Jane, I think it just means she likes you. She denies that, but admits it when drunk. So I think she really likes you guys. I think-” Dada yawned, closing her eyes as she muttered. “I think… she’ll miss you too.” And then she was asleep, leaving Tia with a deafening silence. She just laid down slowly, guiding Dada to do the same, and then weaved her arms around her. Tia fell asleep, she would tell herself in the morning that she didn't hear that, that it was just the champagne and exhaustion.

_

“Oh no fuck that. Keep in touch? That’s why I’m ending things, point blank PERIOD, with Jane after this. I’m not getting led on, strung along like that. And I won’t do that to poor Jane, either,” Nymphia exclaimed at the breakfast table, cutting into the homemade Frittata Bruno had made for the group that morning. She leaned towards the middle with Tia and Crystal so other group members didn’t hear. Dada and Jane had decided to skip breakfast and sleep in, and Gothy was hard at work in her room. Tia was feeling horrible after their talk, but committed to enjoying the last of the trip with Dada. They had wasted way too much time, truly.

“You know Jane would let you, too,” Crystal pointed out, Nymphia solemnly nodded back.

“To each their own, of course,” she added, trying not to laugh at Tia’s downcast eyes. “Aww, it’ll be alright! There were so many hot girls who were put in other groups, Perugia will be a whole other world! If you want it to be. But, if Dada’s willing to make the drive, you’re willing to wait… it could be cute!”

“See those encouraging words are coming out of your mouth but they’re not matching your bitchy tone at all,” Tia wasn’t mad at Nymphia, she was just speaking the truth, all she knew to speak. But this was still the last thing in the world Tia wanted to hear. Her and Dada were gonna make it work, at least they could try to try. At least they weren’t just giving up… Maybe Nymphia just knew better. Whatever, Tia didn’t care. She’d know soon enough, she supposed. But she definitely wasn’t just gonna give up and mope around the rest of the trip. She hoped Dada wouldn’t either.

Then Jane and Dada walked in, Jane looking excited, Dada’s eyes, as always, caught Tia’s instantly. Once everyone was done eating breakfast, Jane brought them outside.

“Okay family!” She said to the group that was gathered on the back terrace. “We will be taking a VERY short walk because we got a sickening villa on the beach! I’m amazing! And we will be splitting into two groups to go TUBING! Me, Dada, Gothy, Nymphia, Tia, and Crystal will go on one and the rest of you can squeeze! And if you don’t want to go on the boat just… I don’t know, hang out in the epic fucking villa or whatever.” Everyone moved to walk to the beach, but not before Jane could add one more thing: “OH! Remember how I called us family at the beginning of my speech. Well, family doesn’t snitch on each other. I will look away from your antics if you look away from mine. That goes for the Villa too… for the rest of the trip honestly. Just don’t be stupid. Don’t piss me off. OKAY LET’S GO!”

They all walked down the beach for a minute until they made it to where the two boats were docked. When they arrived though, one of the boats was already occupied.

“Hello ladies!” Bruno grinned, clasping his hands together. Beside him, stood Vanjie in a neon green bikini, so brat.

“Hey bitches!” Vanjie cackled, popping a bottle of Prosecco. “We better take off fast before any of these other bitches try to hop in our boats! Bruno and I are having some private time out. YOU SNOOZE ya LOSE!” Bruno just laughed as he put the boat in reverse before taking off quickly.

“I… I don’t think I will ever understand Vanjie…” Dada trailed off.

“WHO CARES! You heard her, we gotta get out of here before the other bitch-ass group members get here!” Crystal was already jumping into the boat, almost falling in the process.

“I can totally drive us again, hop in gals!” Gothy said, hopping in too and trying to find the keys to turn on the engine. Dada held out her hand while obnoxiously bowing.

“After you, m’lady.” Tia just rolled her eyes, grabbing her hand easily and also almost falling somehow. She pulled Dada in after her, both plopping onto one of the seats in the back of the boat in a heap of giggles.

“I can't believe we’re not drinking on a boat right now… who are we?” Nymphia muttered, mostly to herself.

“We’re only going out for like- two hours then we’ll go back to the villa and fucking drink. That place was so expensive and it’s so gorgeous we just HAVE to get drunk there. It would be blasphemous if we didn’t,” Jane explained. “Also Bruno is a bartender and has a full list of shots and cocktails he’s ready to make for us. All included.” The girls just gaped at Jane who grinned back at them. “SO LET’S FUCKING GO!”

“Okay this isn’t going to be a cute ride out girls, hold this fucking tube down.” Gothy threw the hot pink tube into the boat, making sure she had the rope and life jackets (safety first and also they absolutely could not let a group member get a concussion on the trip again). “Let’s roll out!” Gothy started up the boat before reversing. Thankfully, it looked like the rest of the tour group opted to stay on their beach or in the villa. Not that they would’ve cared anyway, fuck those guys. Nymphia held onto her headscarf Jane got her for dear life as Gothy sped to a good clear area, JOYRIDE blasting on loop.

“I’M GOING FIRST! I AM A MASTER ON THE TUBE!” Jane said, already throwing the tube into the water and jumping on top of it effortlessly. When did she take off her swimsuit cover up and put on a life jacket, and goggles? “Nymphia, it’s probably for the best that you let me do this by myself… you couldn’t last as long as me.”

“Mmm wasn’t planning on it. You get weird about tubing… like, it’s all you watch on YouTube… Crystal and I are going together!”

“GOOD! FILM ME! GOTHY I WANT YOU TO TRY TO KNOCK ME OFF. I CONSENT. I AM CONSENTING TO YOU TRYING TO KNOCK ME OFF THIS TUBE BECAUSE I KNOW YOU NEVER COULD!” Jane screamed as Gothy started to drag her behind slowly. “DID YOU HEAR ME? SPEED- AH!” Gothy sped up suddenly, causing Jane to laugh wildly. Nymphia was giggling as she filmed Jane bounce over the waves the boat was making behind them.

“Hold on, girls,” Gothy muttered before steering the boat sharply to the right, causing the tube to skip over the waves, but Jane didn’t budge, she pretended to check her nails.

“Oh my god, Jane!” Tia cheered, the ocean water spraying over her and Dada as Gothy suddenly jerked the boat to a crawling pace, causing Jane to almost fall off.

“DID YOU GET THAT NYMPHIE?” Jane called out, spitting out the salt water. Nymphia just nodded enthusiastically. They watched as Jane absolutely killed it on the tube, she truly was a master. Eventually though, Gothy caught the waves just right and Jane crashed into the water, hollering when her head popped out from under the water.

“YASSS JANE! CRYSTAL AND I ARE NEXT!” Nymphia finally stopped recording, and Crystal began to put on her life jacket.

“Are you going?” Tia asked Dada, a wicked smile on her face.

“Absolutely not.”

“Wottttt?” Tia trailed off. “Not even with me?” Dada scoffed at the innocent tone in Tia’s voice.

“No!”

“Oh you are so boring, Dada! We’re all going- well, not Gothy, she’s steering the boat, but everyone else is going but you, that makes you a loser,” Nymphia teased as she finally got her life jacket on.

“You are terrible! You are a literal bully!” Dada pulled Tia in closer as they both wheezed silently.

“You’re a literal LOSER!”

“LADIES! Why are we fighting?” Jane said, pulling herself up onto the boat. She walked over to join the group who all screamed when she dripped water on them. “Oh shut up, we’re all going anyway.”

“Dada isn’t! That’s why we’re fighting!”

“Oh god, don’t be a loser Dada.” Everyone laughed harder, only being cut off by a splash coming from Crystal.

“Who cares! Let’s focus on the cool people who are going tubing!” Crystal had pulled herself up onto the tube.

“You are wearing over-the-nose goggles, but okay!” Dada called back.

“Everyone shut up! Jane, make sure you do a good job filming!” Nymphia ordered before jumping in and climbing onto the tube next to Crystal.

“Do you want me to try and knock you off?” Gothy asked.

“NO!” Nymphia screamed.

“YES!” Crystal screamed louder!

“OKAY! HOLD ON!” Gothy sped up the boat only a little, Nymphia was screaming.

“Nymphia, we’re barely moving!”

“Fuck you!” Nymphia was cut off by Gothy speeding up, sending them over waves that caused the tube to skip. “I HATE THIS!”

In true Nymphia fashion, she complained and screamed the whole time but in the end, it was impossible to knock her off the tube. Crystal had given up after being knocked off three times, but for some reason Nymphia stayed on for one last round, before being dragged in. Jane was not pleased.

“That was so terrible and boring,” Nymphia scoffed as she sat down.

“Yeah, falling off is the best part, NYMPHIA!” Jane bitched.

“I DON’T CARE! TIA. DADA. TUBE. NOW.” Tia gave Dada another wicked grin as she stood.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

“Absolutely not.”

_

“DO NOT FILM THIS!” Dada yelled, barely able to see from the fogged over goggles. Tia laughed wildly from beside her on the tube.

“OH I ABSOLUTELY AM FILMING THIS. YOU’RE BOTH SO LONG THIS LOOKS HORRIFYING!” Crystal said from behind her phone. Dada screamed as Gothy sped up suddenly, gripping the tube as tight as she could with her eyes pressed shut. Tia cackled before her mouth was filled with salty water that made her gag, and then Dada was laughing too. Gothy turned the boat sharply and Tia and Dada both instantly fell off.

“Were either of you even trying?!” Nymphia cackled as the boat circled back.

“NO?! I DIDN’T WANT TO GO TUBING EITHER!” Tia cried, coughing out the salt water.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

“I’M SORRY! I TALKED A BIG GAME THEN COULDN’T BACK OUT!”

“TIA?!” They were both laughing as they dragged themselves back onto the boat.

“Whatever, let’s just go back to the villa and DRINK WITH BARTENDER BRUNO!”

_

They all entered the villa after drying off a bit and were greeted by Bruno and Vanjie in the kitchen, Bruno was shaking a cocktail, with seven other shakers lined up beside him. Vanjie was perched on the counter sensually.

“Hey ladies! You came just in time, Bruno is making rainbow shots, you want one!?” She asked.

“How could we ever turn down a Bruno rainbow shot?!” Crystal cheered as they all sat down on the bar stools. Bruno began to stack the cocktail mixers on top of each other, probably three feet high.

“Oh my god, Bruno!” Jane cheered. “You know cool bar tricks too?!”

“Of course, Plane. I live to entertain and nourish.” From beside him, Vanjie was lining up eight shot glasses in a perfect line.

“I’m actually a little scared,” Dada muttered towards Tia, who was watching in awe as Bruno masterfully held all the cocktail shakers together and slowly lined them up above the shot glasses, pouring slowly until all the shot glasses were full, each shot a different color of the rainbow. The girls clapped.

“Voila!” Bruno blushed as he bowed. “Now, we drink! I’ll film us!’ Bruno propped his phone up against one of the expensive vases as they each grabbed a random shot.

“Literally what are our lives right now?” Tia cackled as she held onto Dada. Bruno began to film.

“Ladies, a toast,” he said from behind the camera. The girls all held up their shot glasses, trying not to burst out laughing as he continued to speak. “There are big ships and little ships, and ships that sail the sea, but the best ships are friendships, like the one between you and me. Bottoms up!”

“CHEERS!” They all said in unison before doing little cheerses’, tapping their glasses on the counter, and sending back the shots that were… actually really delicious, Dada almost wanted to sip it.

“Bruno, that was the best shot I’ve ever had…” Gothy said.

“I’m honored to hear it! There is a full liquor cabinet, and it's all for you, I urge you to indulge. Another round of shots?”

“Bruno, I adore you,” Jane whispered, teary eyed.

“Hey! That’s my man, you have your banana bitch anyway!” Vanjie screamed, well, she didn’t scream, her normal speaking voice just sounded like screaming.

“Oh my god, we’re lesbians, Vanjie! Bruno, we would love another round of shots! Oh and, um- what exactly are the rules on smoking?” Nymphia asked, failing to sound innocent.

“In a way, isn’t oxygen smoke?” Bruno said mysteriously, pouring everclear into a cocktail shaker. They all went silent. “Yes, you can smoke anywhere on the property, this is a villa of bliss.” They all cheered together.

“Bruno, I LOVE YOU!” Nymphia was bouncing in her seat as the other round of shots was poured. Tia exhaled sharply, preparing herself for the strong Everclear but again, she didn't find herself wincing at all. Was Bruno a wizard?

“How did you make Everclear shots taste good?” Crystal implored.

“Your other shots were Everclear too! We’re starting you ladies out strong!” Vanjie cheered.

“You better lock in, if you need anything come find me find Vanessa and I around the fire pit.” Bruno and Vanjie waved as they left the girls in the kitchen.

“Girls… I’ve never had Everclear, I babysit my friends when they drink it…” Crystal trailed off, staring at the empty shot glass in her hand. “It’s NOT good.”

“Oh Crystal, we’ll be okay! I mean, we’ve gotten pretty good at drinking during the trip, right?”

_

“OKAY! OBSTACLE COURSE RELAY!” Nymphia cheered, standing on one of the dining chairs outside. “GROUPS OF THREE! ME, CRYSTAL, AND TIA AGAINST DADA, JANE, AND GOTHY! THE GUIDES VS. THE GROUP!”

“Nymphia, when did you even do this?” Nymphia had laid out a series of lawn chairs, loungers, and dining chairs in obstacles. Tia could barely make out what looked to be a croquet mallet?

“You see, Tia, while you all were eating the delicious shrimp cocktail that Bruno made, which won’t taste very good while coming back up, by the way. I was making a fun activity that is also going to double as a DRINKING game!”

“NYMPHIA! THAT IS SO NICE OF YOU!” Dada clapped. Though the girls had gotten… okay at drinking on the trip, they sure hadn’t learned how to pace themselves. Jane said it was okay because they started two hours late into the day, so really they were just catching up. Or at least that's what Tia thought Jane said, she found it hard to focus on anything or anyone but Dada, as always.

“THANK YOU, DADA! AT LEAST SOMEONE APPRECIATES ME! So, here’s the relay: the first person will start here, the liquor bottles will serve as our batons. You have to pour and take a shot before rolling down the hill with the bottle AND shot glass. At the bottom of the hill you have to WEAVE through the sun loungers, if you mess up, you have to start over, including taking another shot. After you weave through the sun loungers, you will pass the bottle baton and shot glass to the second person in the relay. That person must take a shot and then hop chair to chair, you’ll notice there’s a hopscotch formation, if you fuck it up you will have to start your section over, if you succeed run and meet the final person in the relay. Pass off the bottle baton and shot glass and the final person will take their shot then use the croquet mallet to hit the ball through THREE of the rings. At the end of the course you will take another shot and then do the WHOLE THING BACKWARDS! First person to make it back here WINS! Got it?” All the girls just looked blankly at Nymphia.

“Nymphia… why did you do this?” Jane whispered, even she was a little horrified.

“BECAUSE IT’S LIKE A LOVE ISLAND CHALLENGE!” Nymphia breathed heavily. The girls were still just looking at her.

“What do we win?” Gothy asked after a few moments of silence.

“Uh… my respect? Whatever, go strategize on who you want where. WE’RE DOING THIS YOU HAVE NO CHOICE!” The two groups split off, much like they used to in the very beginning of the trip.

“Okay, we actually need to win this. I know there’s no wine to win, but we need to beat them!” Crystal whispered excitedly. “Tia, you have to do the chair hop scotch, your legs are long as fuck it’ll be so easy.” Tia barked a laugh.

“Right after a shot though? I’m already so drunk.”

“DON’T BE WEAK! THIS IS ABOUT WINNING!”

“Okay! I’ll do the chairs,” Tia nodded, suddenly taking this very seriously.

“Okay, hands in… FUCK DADA, GOTHY, AND JANE!” Crystal cheered.

“FUCK DADA, GOTHY, AND JANE!” Nymphia and Tia cheered back.

“Uhhh, fuck you guys. We’re ready too. Everyone go to their spots!” Jane ordered as she began to walk down the hill beside Dada, Gothy stayed put. Her and Nymphia shared a competitive look, squaring each other up a bit. Tia wasn’t shocked that they also chose Dada for the chair hopscotch.

“You should emotionally prepare to be shamed by Nymphia, I know she’ll never drop it once we win,” Tia teased, both of them stopped in front of their chairs.

“Tia, Tia, Tia…” Dada trailed off, clearly cocky. “Jane, Gothy, and I do drunk foot races all the time back home. You don’t want to know how competitive we get. I can only imagine how good we’re going to be when we work together.” Tia kept a strong poker face, before she could respond she heard Nymphia from on top of the hill, suddenly both eased into an action stance. Tia looked behind her to see Jane and Crystal trash talking each other.

“READY… SET…”

“GO!” Vanjie cheered, holding a timer, Bruno had set up a tripod to film. When did they get here? Nymphia and Gothy basically poured and took the shots in perfect sync, but Nymphia got a lead when she opted to barrel roll down the hill instead of on her side like Gothy.

“YES NYMPHIA!” Tia cheered as Nymphia weaved between the chairs, almost slipping, but still making it to Tia before Gothy reached Dada. She pushed the bottle and shot glass into Tia’s hands.

“GO! GO! GO! HURRY! GO! GO! I’LL BE WAITING BACK HERE!” Nymphia yelled as Tia sent the shot back before climbing onto the chairs and beginning the hop scotch formation. “YOU CAN GO FASTER THAN THAT TIA, COME ON!”

“Ooh baby this is gonna be close!” Vanjie cheered. Though Tia had a strong lead, Dada hopped over the chairs with ease, passing Tia while doing so.

“WOT THE FUCK?!” Dada heard Tia cackle from behind her. She just ran to Jane who was screaming at her, voice hoarse.

“LOCK IN, TIA!”

“Oh ladies… this is going to be a photo finish…”

_

“We have reviewed the footage, and by just a millisecond…” The girls all sat around the table outside eagerly as Bruno spoke. “THE TOUR GUIDES WIN!” The girls clapped politely as Dada, Gothy, and Jane embraced in fits of laughter.

“Nymphia! Tell us! Tell us you respect us!” Gothy demanded.

“Fine. Whatever. I respect you. Bruno, Everclear shots?”

“To the kitchen!”

Bruno laid out eight glasses, effortlessly filling each straight down the line.

“Ladies, Everclear isn’t as dangerous as I thought, I just think my friends suck at drinking!”

“Crystal… please be safe tonight.”

_

Ten things happened before they all ended up falling asleep at 8pm.

First, they took more shots. NOT of Everclear, though, they switched to whatever vodka Jane had pulled out of the liquor cabinet.

Second, they walked down to the beach where they chain smoked three blunts, two joints, and ten drunk cigarettes. And Tia didn’t give a fuck about what Nymphia had said that morning.

Third, Tia didn’t give a fuck about what Nymphia had said that morning. How could she when her and Dada kept sneaking away from the group just to take a few moments alone, it pissed the girls off, but they didn’t care. They had found some good hiding spots, though.

Fourth, Crystal wanted to play hide and seek. Dada and Tia gave her the idea. They couldn’t be mad though, because it was actually really fun as they stumbled up the stairs to try and find a good hiding spot. The fun ended when Jane tried to hide in the ocean.

Fifth, they got cut off from the ocean. (yes, Bruno could do that.) He stopped Nymphia, Tia, Gothy, Dada, and Crystal just as they were about to reach Jane, who was ankle deep.

“YOU GIRLS, YOU’RE TOO IMPORTANT TO LOSE! I’M DOING THIS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

Sixth, they all cried in Bruno’s muscular arms, so grateful for his love. They apologized profusely while also thanking him, wiping their tear stained cheeks.

Seventh, while they were all crying in Bruno arms, Tia was secretly crying because she was thinking about what Nymphia had said earlier that day, and how she was probably right after all. Tia was here temporarily, not Dada. Dada wasn’t leaving Tia after a short trip, Tia was leaving her after a semester abroad. Dada wasn’t leaving the country, she was just leaving… Tia. And that was easier than a country. Way easier.

Eighth, Nymphia and Dada decided to do foot races. Stupidly, they used the patch of grass right next to the pool. They actually held up surprisingly well considering the wet grass that caused them to slip and slide.

“GO DADA! GO! GO! GO!” Tia cheered. In a last ditch attempt to beat Nymphia, Dada lept towards the finish line, sliding in the wet grass and covering herself in mud.

Ninth, Tia and Dada sat next to each other in their shower, naked and laughing as they watched the sunset through the open window. The water fell over them as the dirt washed off Dada, and Tia who was sharing her filth at this point.

Tenth, Bruno and Vanjie came around and made sure all the girls were in bed, safe, and equipped with trash cans and plenty of water. Tia and Dada fell asleep tangled together, and Tia would forget all about Nymphia’s words until she was sharing the toilet bowl with Dada at 2 a.m., puking their guts out while leaning on each other. But mostly, all Tia could think as her head pounded was:

Today was really fucking fun.

_

“Good morning ladies. You all look lovely in the morning light, your most natural state. True beauty!” Bruno stood at the breakfast bar in front of the seven girls the next morning, who couldn’t help but grin despite their horrible hangovers. They had slept in until 10am, which was late considering they were all passed out before the sun had completely set. “After having a lengthy and sensual conversation with Vanessa and Gothy last night, I’ve come to a conclusion. You deserve a treat. I’ve been up all night crafting the recipe for a perfect day,” The girls gasped, staring in awe as Bruno revealed a platter of what looked to be perfectly baked macarons. “Every homemade French macaron contains fifty milligrams of pure one hundred percent sativa homegrown indoor marijuana. Strain name- Dry Lightning, a Bruno original. Tread lightly, but bravely.” Bruno grinned as Jane squealed.

“Bruno… we would’ve been fine with brownies- you’re amazing!” She sighed. Nymphia frowned.

“Um, didn’t your roommate literally mail you so many edibles??”

“Fuck those edibles,” Jane snapped, then grinned at Bruno. “Bruno made these. With dry lightning.”

“That’s us baby.”

Nymphia rolled her eyes as Jane grinned and blushed at Bruno winking at her. The rest of the girls rolled their eyes and laughed at Jane as Vanjie stood up.

“Don’t say I’ve never done nothing for you either!” She grinned. “I’ve got you a full itinerary for the day, complete with drivers, appointments, reservations, all that shit. With Nymphia’s input, of course! Miss Vanjie got you all the hookups! You’re lucky I’ve got connections.”

“Vanjie… if I ever asked you details on your life, what would you say?” Crystal giggled, sharing a look with Nymphia.

“Read my Wikipedia page!” Vanjie said, dead serious. Nymphia immediately took out her phone. “Now breakfast! Or brunch I guess.”

“Yes, you missed the extensive breakfast buffet I prepared this morning, but using the leftovers I’ve made personalized breakfast burritos for all you ladies. No onion for Nymphia, no cheese for Crystal, extra prosciutto for Dada,” Bruno handed out individually wrapped breakfast burritos to all the girls, along with cold bottles of water before leading them outside. “Gothy, you should have to drive the least amount possible on this trip, I want this to be a haven for you as well. A shuttle will be taking you to and from town today.”

“BRUNO I COULD CRY!” Gothy exclaimed, jumping into Bruno’s arms. Tia and Dada looked at each other and burst out laughing, walking out of the villa before the other girls, Tia immediately lighting a cigarette.

“I feel like I’m… I don’t even know, rich as hell?” She whispered to Dada as they walked towards the sleek black shuttle van that would bring them into town. The driver was wearing a black tuxedo.

“I feel like we’re in a cult commune but it’s too luxurious and beautiful for me to leave,” Dada giggled.

“Sounds like the beginning of an A24 movie!”

Soon the girls were loaded up in the van, waving goodbye to Bruno and Vanjie who stood waving from the front door. In the scenic forty five minute drive into Cagliari, the same port town they’d arrived in just days before, the six girls definitely started to feel the effects of the macaron edibles as they ate their tinfoil wrapped breakfast burritos.

“Girls… I’m saying this right now… I should NOT have eaten two macar-,” Crystal was cut off by Nymphia’s screeching.

“GIRLS STOP EATING! I’M GONNA MAKE A TIKTOK!!!”

“What the fuck does that even mean.” Jane deadpanned. Nymphia just grinned and shoved her phone in Jane’s hand, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Just hit record and stop after I wink.” She ordered Jane, who obliged with a smile. Nymphia looked at the phone once Jane hit record, her voice got lower in an attempt to seem relatable or gay or something. “What I eat in a day on an island in Italy… ‘relaxed’ edition.” She winked at the camera. Jane let out a loud cackle as she stopped recording. (Of course Nymphia will keep Jane’s cackle in the final cut) “NOW!” She ordered, snatching her phone back. “Everyone hold your burritos in the middle. This is so going viral.”

Too soon they arrived in Cagliari, being dropped off in front of a modern looking consignment store on a busy street, much like the one they’d been to in Naples to get their clubbing outfits. But this one was cheaper, thank god.

“Okay wait, what’s the vibe tomorrow? Why do we need to buy completely new outfits? I bought plenty of outfits for clubbing.”

“Crystal, think less clubbing, think more…” Jane trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Coachella.” Dada and Gothy said at the same time. Crystal, Tia, and Nymphia grinned.

“Oh… we can fucking do that.”

The girls split up, Tia and Dada going to a rack of tiny short skirts, Crystal and Nymphia were immediately digging through bins of shoes. Nymphia pulled out a pair of SICKENING platform stripper heels.

“I- this is the best day of my life girls.” She sounded genuinely choked up. Tia and Dada immediately turned to each other and silently laughed.

“She’s really about to cry!” Dada whispered with a grin.

“Nymphia girl, your day is only going up from here!” Vanjie emerged from the dressing room wearing the exact replica Vanessa Hudgens’s 2011 Coachella look, (you know the one). The girls all jumped.

“What the fuck Vanjie?!” Tia exclaimed. Dada was dying laughing into her shoulder, the edibles weren’t helping her stay composed at all. If anything they just made everything dreamier and funnier and more golden. And Tia felt so much closer, even more magnetic than usual. Dada couldn’t help but laugh into her neck, snake a hand around her waist and rise it under Tia’s shirt, rubbing circles on her bare back.

As for Tia, she jumped every time she heard a loud noise, and she was genuinely scared that Vanjie had arrived before them, when she had just waved goodbye as they were leaving. From inside the villa. But Dada constantly being by her side still felt nice. Almost too nice.

“Tia, you look scared! Bruno and I rode over on his Vespa. We took the scenic route but he’s such a speed devil we beat you anyway. NOW! Let’s pick some outfits ladies!”

“CATEGORY IS… NEON CARNIVAL!”

_

“Girls… I don’t really want a rebound right now. But in this outfit, it’s gonna be hard not to get one!” Crystal squealed as they walked out of the shop. “Bruno!!! You are absolutely insane! I feel the dry lightning!” She pulled Bruno into a hug the minute he approached the girls on the street.

“Oh Crystal how I love you,” Bruno grinned as he easily returned her hug. He was wearing a fedora like he was in the mafia. “Let me take your bags ladies. I’ll see you for dinner.”

“What about the rest of the group?”

“Their dinner just needs to be put in the oven for forty five minutes. They will cope. This is too special to miss.”

The girls looked at each other in wonder as they handed Bruno their bags.

“I’m going with Bruno too. We’re still trying to secure the perfect reservations. I’ll see you girls at dinner. Have fun now! Right on the port there’s a cute little gelato place, and across the street the bars are starting happy hour. Go have fun!”

The girls watched as Bruno and Vanjie left, walking down a random street. Crystal stared after them.

“I don’t think I can drink right now girls,” she breathed.

“…why?” Nymphia asked rudely. Crystal turned and looked at her, tears in her eyes.

“Because my body feels like an opera… the violins are warming up… it’s buzzing…”

Tia figured Crystal was having a bad trip from the edibles and immediately felt bad. She was feeling a little anxious too… But Crystal had double the macarons the other girls did. Nymphia only had a bit of Jane’s and even she was incredibly giggly, her eyes obviously bloodshot red.

“And your face is melting.” Nymphia deadpanned. “And the trees want to sacrifice you!”

Crystal’s hands flew to her face in horror.

“NYMPHIA NO!” Gothy and Jane immediately yelled.

“That’s so fucked up,” Jane whispered heatedly. Dada burst into a fit of giggles, leaning back into Tia who was already laughing into her shoulder.

“Crystal! Do not listen to her!” Dada got out through her laughter.

“Nymphia is just being a bitch,” Tia grinned, burying her face in Dada’s neck. “Your face is melting!” She whispered, and they both couldn't stop giggling. They were all so high off the edibles at this point the girls were all cackling, except Crystal, who was trying to calm herself down, looking at her face in Snapchat.

“Seriously Crystal,” Dada pulled away from Tia and threw a comforting arm around Crystal who immediately curled into her arms. “You are perfect. We will get you some food and water and you can share my drink when you’re ready.”

A part of Tia hated Dada for being so sweet. And kind. And funny. And smart. And beautiful of course, but…

How was she so perfect? Tia remembered thinking the same thing in Florence, but she didn’t know half of it. Of course Dada is gorgeous, with her perfectly styled long platinum blonde hair, her dark thick eyelashes that framed the lightest brown eyes that lit up every time she gave one of her beautiful smiles. She could be a model, especially with those long legs. Yes, she was gorgeous. Everyone knew that the moment they met her. But nothing could’ve prepared Tia for everything else about her.

How much Dada made her laugh, how much she made Tia’s chest ache, how safe she made her feel. How Tia didn't even think about this sappy stuff half the time because it all just felt too easy, too natural to be anything but absolutely ordinary. How were they supposed to say goodbye? Tia never wanted to say goodbye. She hadn’t even known this girl for a month but she wanted to know her inside out.

Tia was broken from her embarrassing train of thought as Nymphia shoved her phone in Crystal’s face with the smeagle Snapchat filter on the screen. Crystal screamed when she saw herself, but even she joined the laughter when she realized it was just a filter.

“I’M SO GLAD I RECORDED THAT!” (For some reason, Nymphia will add this to the TikTok)

The girls tried to hold back their laughter as they went into a bar that was right on the water. They all ordered drinks and snacks before finding a table on the patio that overlooked the water.

“This is so beautiful,” Crystal breathed.

“Yeah, it’s so much better than the stupid happy hour bar crawl Jane made us do in Venice. Nowhere had seats, we had to eat and drink outside. I nearly fell into a canal!”

“I should’ve pushed you in.” Crystal and Jane said at the same time. And then no one could hold back their laughter. The girls chatted for a little bit, Nymphia shushing them as she recorded segments for her TikTok.

“Why can’t we talk? You’re not gonna put music over it??” Tia asked as Nymphia filmed herself taking a bite of a cracker with cheese and salami.

“SHUT UP TIA!” Nymphia snapped with her mouth full. (This will stay in the TikTok)

The girls left soon and got gelato across the street, then Nymphia led them to the next activity.

“OKAY GIRLS!! Now I know I usually am the one who refuses to go into museums-,” she began as she led the girls up a steep hill.

“I’m not going into a museum.”

“Shut up Jane. BUT, there’s this really cool one that I’m actually SUPER excited to-,”

“Nymphia. I am NOT going to a museum,” Jane said more sternly, stopping in her tracks. The rest of the girls stopped except for Nymphia who kept chugging up the hill.

“JANE IT’S AN ARCHAEOLOGY MUSEUM LOADED WITH HISTORY-,”

“AND I TOOK US TO AN ISLAND. LET’S HAVE FUN PLEASE!”

“… I’m team Jane,” Tia cut in, Dada burst out laughing. “Nymphia didn’t we go to enough museums in just Rome?”

“What the FUCK Tia?!?! YOU SKIPPED MUSEUM CRAWL DAY! YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT!!!”

“Nymphia. Listen to yourself yelling at us because you want to go to a MUSEUM. And turn around. Let’s do some more shopping sisters!” Jane grinned, taking back over as the tour guide. “See, last night I really wanted to check out these cute little shops, but instead we went to basically a small boring version of the Colosseum that we all saw in Rome. Let’s make up for lost time now!”

“Have fun losers, Dada and I are going to the park!” Tia called, already pulling Dada in the opposite direction of the group, who just followed her with a grin.

“You are horrible!” Dada giggled. “I can’t believe Nymphia tried to make us go to a museum,” she added. Tia hummed in agreement.

“Look, I’m sorry, the minute Jane started taking us to the beach, no WAY could we EVER go back to that awful museum lifestyle!”

“Exactly. I mean, you saw what happened in Rome, when she tried to make us go back,” Dada led Tia down a random side street, not really knowing where she was going, just hoping they’d be able to find somewhere secluded.

“Yeah you kidnapped me and then tried to seduce me, very inappropriate for a tour guide,” Dada hated that glint in Tia’s eye that made her feel like some blushing schoolgirl. “Also if you’re trying to find a smokespot, that park is empty. And there’s a really big tree to stand behind.”

“Oh good I was trying to find a smokespot.”

The two walked into a park and behind the tree to see there was actually a bench, with a no smoking sign on it. “Don’t worry Tia, they don’t mean it in Italy.”

Dada took out one of Crystal’s blunt wraps and quickly packed it with bud, handing it to Tia to light. “First hit, just for you.”

“You just don’t wanna light it…” Tia glared but took the blunt with a grin, holding it under the lighter, rotating it under the flame a couple times before bringing it to her mouth, lighting it one final time as she deeply inhaled, trying her best not to cough when she felt that ache in her throat.

“You are about to cough so hard I can tell, it’s okay, let it out,” Dada’s tone was only a little teasing as Tia burst out coughing and she burst out laughing, moving her hand from Tia’s shoulder to her back, rubbing soft circles on it. She took a few hits of her own, exhaling like a normal person. “Also I was not seducing you in Rome, I was simply trying to show you some wonderful views. And I need to keep repeating, I am NOT a tour guide. That is Jane. I just translate.”

“And hit on travelers.”

“Nah. Only you.”

Tia and Dada eventually wandered back to the shopping street, meeting the rest of the girls in a touristy gift shop like the countless ones they’d been to before. Luckily the effects of the edibles were starting to wear off, though they were still giggly, just a little subdued. And then finally it was time for dinner, the weirdest experience of Dada’s life. It started with meeting Bruno and Vanjie in front of a random bar by the beach.

“Ladies, while you all look radiant today, we do indeed need to freshen up for dinner. Thank you for packing outfits in advance. My friend owns this bar and is fine with you using their restrooms to get dressed. Please meet on the beach directly across the street when you are all finished. And then… and then it will be time,” Bruno smiled softly, opening the door to the bar for the girls. Luckily the bar had three single bathrooms. Jane and Nymphia, Crystal and Gothy, and Tia and Dada split up to get changed.

Dada was so unbelievably high after smoking that blunt, she couldn't look at Tia as they entered the bathroom.

“You’re being shy,” Tia giggled, already stripping.

“Because you are horrible!” Dada exclaimed with a grin. Tia just laughed, pulling Dada into a long kiss who of course returned it, before pushing her away with a wicked grin. “You are terrible! Go to the other side!”

So they got changed on opposite sides of the tiny bathroom, sending seductive smiles and playful glares back and forth, Tia of course attempted to do a corny striptease. Dada couldn’t help but notice how her phone buzzed five times in a row.

“You are popular? Who knew,” She smirked at Tia, who let out a breath of a laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry. Just stupid emails from the school in Perugia. All these dumb orientation documents I need to sign or whatever. I’ve been ignoring them for a week now,” she said so earnestly like it was nothing, but her eyes wouldn’t meet Dada’s. She glanced at her phone. “Oh- first trip is September 14th. Paris. Ha.”

“You will love it. It’s beautiful,” Dada breathed. “Can you lace my dress up?”

When Tia went to redo the lacing in the back of Dada’s dress, her hands were shaking.

“I got my first email when we were driving to Amalfi. And it almost made me cry,” she whispered. Dada let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking high right now,” she attempted to giggle. Dada’s stomach dropped. She was way too high for this too and now all she wanted to do was cry. Weren’t they just having fun? Wasn’t this just kind of easy?

“I’m sorry,” was all she knew to whisper, giving Tia a sad smile. Even though she wasn’t sorry at all. She was comforted to know that Tia had been feeling the dread, even before she was. “Jane told me- once I realized how fast the trip was moving - she said to let go of the dread. But I just…” Dada didn’t finish her sentence, she just shrugged. Tia patted her back, Dada turned to look at her. Tia gave her a tiny smile.

“What she should’ve said is to be delusional. That’s way easier. Zip me up?”

Now Dada’s hands were shaking as she deliberately took her time to zip Tia’s dress, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder before saying, unable to help a grin;

“Well, it was better than what Nymphia told me to do…”

“She gave you that whole speech too? She’s the worst !”

“I’M LISTENING TO YOU GIRLS. FUCK YOU! WE’RE ALL DONE, HURRY UP!”

Tia and Dada laughed, gathering up their stuff before leaving the bathroom. Jane stepped up with a smirk.

“Nymphia gave me that speech too, by the way. The one about ghosting me? Yeah. And I don’t buy it for a second. She already sent me the school’s academic calendar.” Jane smirked as she walked away. When they crossed the street to the beach, Bruno in a black tuxedo was posing in front of a blazing sunset with Vanjie by his side, who was in a golden floor length ball gown that looked straight from the bachelorette. A photographer was running back and forth, getting all the perfect angles.

“Holy shit,” Gothy breathed.

“This is the ULTIMATE sunset photoshoot!!!” Nymphia squealed, running forward, Jane’s hand clasped in hers. After a literally professional photoshoot, Bruno and Vanjie led them into a marble mansion that was guarded by two men at the door.

“Welcome to the most exclusive restaurant in all of Italy. They usually only allow seven patrons a night. But we were able to raise the number to lucky number eight. And we are in for a treat.”

Dada and Tia looked at each other, bewildered, but followed Bruno with all the trust in the world.

“I hope we don’t get murdered…” Tia whispered to Dada, who could only nod. The mansion was absolutely gorgeous, Tia felt like she was on some sort of movie set. She also sort of felt like she was in Buckingham Palace. And the White House. And Daddy Warbucks Mansion in Annie.

They were led to such a huge dining table, Tia was shocked they only allowed seven diners a night. For some reason they had eight servers, and Tia and Dada had to hold back their laughter when they realized they all got personal servers for the night.

“It’s a cult,” Dada whispered in Tia’s ear, who lightly kicked her, trying not to laugh. Why they all needed individual servers no one knew, maybe other than to clear dishes. It was an eight course meal. Two appetizers, three main dishes, one palate cleanser, and two desserts. And each meal came with a designated glass of wine, beer, or cocktail. No one had a clue what they were eating, the whole dinner was “silent service” with absolutely no explanation. But it was good enough, Tia supposed. Of course Nymphia was obsessed with filming every dish and her reaction. None of the servers would explain what she was eating so she made lame attempts at describing the dishes. Everything she said confused Tia.

At least Tia could understand the different proteins of the main course, one being some sort of exotic fish that;

“I caught it this afternoon,” Bruno said proudly. “I was just going for a free swim, and it basically swam right into my hands. Like it was made for us.”

After finishing a confusing dessert that arrived on fire, but was somehow ice cold, the girls loaded into the shuttle van for a loud ride home. Bruno and Vanjie were way too drunk to ride back on the Vespa so they squeezed in the van, a mess of laughter and Nymphia bitching that she was too cramped. An hour later they arrived back at the Villa, and all the girls were pretty tired at this point. But Bruno and Vanjie had other plans for the night.

“Oh, you thought the dinner was exclusive? You thought Dry Lightning was a Bruno original? Wait until you see this. Follow us!” Vanjie and Bruno walked ahead of the girls, arm and arm. They were walking down the beach just outside the villa.

“Are they going to kill us?” Tia muttered anxiously to Dada, who just held on tighter.

“I- I’m not sure. I don’t… I’m not sure…”

“Girls. I trust Bruno with my life! Stop panicking!” Jane defended, going silent once they met the entrance of a cave.

“Are you sure?” Nymphia asked gently.

“Don’t worry ladies, I’ve had a nightcap here before. You’ll love it,” Gothy said, walking in behind Vanjie and Bruno with no hesitation. They all followed, gasping when they saw neon lights coming from the end of the cave.

“Welcome to my bar? Lounge? Speakeasy is probably the best word to use,” Bruno said, already going behind the bar and revealing a bottle of wine. “No better way to unwind, than with a bottle of wine! I stitched that on a pillow once!” The walls were lined with velvet fabric that matched the cushions on the high top tables. There was a pool table, darts, and even slot machines in the corner.

“Bruno… this place is gorgeous…”

“Thank you, Plane-“

“Bruno… call me Jane.” Everyone gasped.

“Of course, Jane. I’ve been staying here quite awhile so I’ve been able to build up an amazing relaxation station if you will, here ladies,” Bruno had finished pouring all the glasses, pushing one towards each girl. ”Gothy, would you like some Dry Lightning?”

“Oh my god, Bruno! You’re so right! Girls, you haven’t even smoked out of my bong yet!” Gothy instantly ran to grab her bong that was left there for some reason? She returned moments later with her whole smoke set up and began packing a bowl.

“Ugh, the last bong I hit was probably a water bottle bong…” Tia scoffed, sipping at her wine as Dada admired her.

“I thought you were the first girl in your class to have a real bong?” Dada asked teasingly. Tia laughed for a moment, surprised Dada remembered the story that she didn’t even remember telling her.

“I broke that thing so fucking fast,” Tia breathed. Everyone laughed.

“The highest I’ve ever got was off a water bottle bong, don’t underestimate their power. But Gothy’s bong is gorgeous.” And Dada was right, Gothy’s bong was gorgeous, and fucking huge. It was made of a deep emerald green glass. The base looked to be hand painted, with swirls of teal blue and specks of gold making it look like some sort of:

“Gothy it’s like a mermaid bong! I love!” Nymphia exclaimed. Gothy hit the bong before passing it towards Crystal.

“Oh my god, I forgot bongs could be clean…” Crystal trailed off, passing it to Dada, who as always, exhaled in Tia’s face. The girls passed the bong around until Tia couldn’t shake the weight behind her eyes. That didn’t stop them from taking a few hits around Bruno’s hookah before going to bed. Gothy stayed back for a few more drinks. Crystal had taken the lead on the walk back to the villa, stopping to pick up seashells every so often. Jane carried Nymphia on her back as she usually did, and Dada and Tia pulled caboose with their fingers interlocked.

“How tired are you?” Dada asked Tia.

“Never enough,” She answered simply. Dada shook her head, smiling, she loved that answer.

“Then we should put on our swimsuits. The pool is calling us.” And so they wished the girls goodnight before heading to their room to change quickly. The summer air felt a little different as they hopped through the window from their room and walked towards the pool. Dada wrapped both arms around herself as they walked down the stone steps, blushing into Tia’s shoulder who was burning hot. And Tia did feel flushed, heart fluttering and giggling like an idiot, but once at the pool, she shivered. Why was she shivering? Wasn’t she boiling maybe two weeks ago in Genoa smoking outside their hotel? Had that just been the nerves? Wasn’t she nervous now? All Tia knew was goosebumps were trailing up her body.

“What? You’re going to chicken out of swimming in our heated pool?” Dada muttered, trailing her warm hands up Tia’s sides, causing her to shiver even more. Instead of answering, Tia just hopped in. She appreciated the muffled silence for a moment before popping back out from underwater.

“Your turn.” Tia pushed her hair out of her face, eyes locked with Dada’s, she was still shivering. Was it really getting that cold already?

“Should I really? You don’t seem to be enjoying it…”

“I’d enjoy it a lot more if you were with me.” Tia had swam to the edge of the pool, running her hand up Dada’s leg.

“Even your hand is cold,” She giggled, pulling away slightly.

“I don’t care! Come on!” And Dada let Tia pull her in, screaming as she did. Just as quickly as Dada crashed into the water, Tia’s lips crashed onto hers. She took a sharp breath before dragging them both underwater, lips not breaking apart for a moment.

“How pissed would Bruno be if we had sex in the pool?” Tia gasped the second the both came up from under the water. Dada threw her head back laughing before pulling Tia into another kiss. Why couldn’t they stay like this forever? Italy in a way Dada had never seen before, saturated until the sky was almost neon; in a villa that felt as much like home as the vineyard did, but Dada knew it wasn’t the villa that made her feel that way. Was there another world where things were just a little bit different? Dada shook the thought from her mind quickly, knowing the only other reason Tia would make it to Italy is if she was running away. And Dada never wanted her to have to do that. She did nothing to deserve it, and she didn’t deserve these weightless thoughts. So instead Dada began to untie Tia’s bikini top, lips trailing down her neck as she did so.

“I was joking!” Tia giggled, hand already in Dada’s hair, pulling her closer.

“Were you?”

“Well…” Tia was just off by the outdoor lights turning on. They both gasped, ducking till their heads were barely sticking out of the water. “Do you see anyone?”

“I think that they are automatic,” Dada whispered, trailing off into a giggle.

“That’s god telling us to go to our room,” Tia kissed Dada quickly before leading her out of the pool. It was even colder when they got out, the cold night air almost brought tears to Tia’s eyes. August was really slipping away. She tightly wrapped a shivering Dada in her oversized towel before they stumbled back to their room, luckily they left their one big window open, opting to just hop through it instead of navigate around the villa.

“One second!” Dada giggled, struggling to close the window as Tia continued to pull her towards the shower.

“You’re supposed to wash off chlorine, right?” Their swimsuits weren’t even fully off before Tia turned on the water, making it as hot as possible, letting it slightly sting her skin. They left their damp swimsuits beside the shower drain, and as Tia watched Dada take in her body like she’d never seen it before, she knew she would never know anyone as beautiful as Dada. And that didn’t make her ache, but it did make it harder to fall asleep.

_

Waking up the next morning was somehow easier than falling asleep, and it didn’t hurt too bad until Dada remembered the next morning they’d be waking up to leave the island. But she pushed the thought down and excitedly packed her bag for the day with Tia, braiding each other’s hair after they took a shower together so it would look perfect for the club tonight.

After having another wonderful Bruno BreakfastTM, soon the whole tour group boarded the bus. For one of the last times, Tia couldn’t help but think. What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Ladies, here’s the deal. I tried to get us a private cabana at the club. But the event was already sold out. And there’s nine other people besides us, so I was only able to get us all VIP dance floor tickets,” Vanjie explained as they sat down, her and Bruno standing at the very front. Nymphia walked down the aisle doing a headcount.

“Ugh, I understand Vanjie. We should’ve just ditched the rest of the group, though.” Jane said, pointing to the back of the bus. Tia laughed as Vanjie made a somber face.

“They’re my friends, Jane.” She said evenly. “I know how you feel about ditching the group, believe me. I’ve been ditched plenty of times on this trip. By you.” Everyone was silent for a moment, shocked at Vanjie’s serious tone.

“Vanjie, I-,” Jane began, not sure what to say. Vanjie’s face broke into a grin.

“I can’t blame you! I blame Nymphia! And I can’t blame her either! And I don’t care either way, this has been the best month of my life. Let’s get going girls! First we’re having a little lunch/exploration/enrichment moment in the sweet port town of Sassari. And then we’ll be on our way to Phi Beach, the hottest outdoor nightclub on the island! And they’re having their end of summer neon ladies night!”

As everyone got on the bus, the girls couldn’t help but notice that instead of Gothy sitting in the driver's seat, Bruno sat down. Gothy lounged in the seat behind him.

“That’s right ladies! I get another day off! Bruno is spoiling me!” she grinned.

“Um, Bruno, while I trust you with my LIFE, do you know how to drive a huge bus like this?” Jane couldn’t help but ask. Bruno let out a carefree laugh.

“Oh Jane. I used to drive Beyoncé’s tour buses all around Europe. I did just last summer, in fact. They were wider and taller than this one. You’re in very safe, gentle hands.”

In the three hour drive to Sassari, Tia couldn’t help but notice how deadly quiet Dada was. Maybe she was just hungover. Or still high from the edibles. Or carsick. Whatever, Tia was tired too so she just let Dada lay her head on her shoulder as they both watched the view of the ocean and small flat mountains whizzing past. Every now and then Dada would whisper that something was pretty. They shared a pair of earbuds, listening to Tia’s random playlist of old One Direction, Lorde, and Chappell Roan. No sad songs though.

Eventually they arrived to Sassari, grabbing a quick lunch that Nymphia bragged about choosing. Then they had an hour to kill before they had to be on their way to Phi Beach. Nymphia, who had declared her TikTok “viral” (it got one thousand likes) was insisting on making another around the city with Jane. Crystal and Gothy followed them, but Dada grabbed Tia’s hand.

“I want to show you something,” she whispered, leading her to the beach. Tia laughed at a dolphin statue in the middle of the water, taking a quick picture of it and posting it on her instagram story. To her left she could see a huge set of docks with different yachts and ferries ported there. To her right she could still hear Nymphia talking loudly into her phone, definitely trying to go “viral” again.

And in the middle of it all was Dada, who was never good at masking her sad eyes, going from staring at Tia and gazing deep into the sky above the sea, like she was waiting for a band of pirates to come upon the horizon and take them away or something. Or a cruise ship, maybe? Why not just ask?

“What’re you lookin at?” Tia’s voice was barely above a whisper, she cupped her hand over her eyes as she followed Dada’s pointed finger, straight out to the ocean.

“If you were to get on a boat, or you were Katie Ledecky, and you just kept going straight through the sea, eventually, you would hit Nice,” Tia didn’t let her head whip in Dada’s direction, no matter how surprised she was when she mentioned France. she was always surprised, even Jane said she didn’t talk about it that much.

“Can you see it? It’s pretty clear out, you might-” Tia felt a little stupid when Dada cut her off with a laugh. But of course, she didn’t mean it like that.

“No, you can’t see it. That’s how I came here, to Italy. Took a ferry from Nice to here, Sassari. Hid out for a week until my grandmother came to get me. Then we took the ferry together to Naples, and she took me home. To her vineyard in Fiora. The week I was here though, I came to this beach every day. And I thought- I thought if I stood on my tiptoes, and squinted really hard as deep in the water as I could go, I could see just the coast. Or something. But a very friendly surfer broke the news that you can only see it after boating for like… eight hours towards it. To even be able to see just the horizon, just a tip. But for a second, you know, I believed I could see it, and, God I-”

“I know.” Dada hadn’t told Tia much about Nice, but just from her silence, her tentativeness to talk about it, told Tia enough. Afterall, she hated talking about Essex and her university too. Tia had a good feeling Dada left France for a really good reason. For herself. And even though in three days Dada would be on her way back home, and Tia would be stuck in her new apartment with new strangers in Perugia, she didn’t feel the need to push. Even though she was dying to ask, Tia didn’t. She wouldn’t have to. She could ask Dada another time.

Tia lit a joint in the plain daylight, only getting an amused look from an old lady walking by. She knew they wouldn’t get caught, not that it even mattered.

“Did Jane know, when she chose the island, that this is, you know…”

“No.” Dada answered simply. “It’s okay though, I-. You know. It’s beautiful here. I’m having so much fun,” she whispered, tears shining in her eyes. Tia could feel her own.

“You’re beautiful,” she couldn’t help but whisper, giving Dada a light kiss on the empty beach. “I’m having so much fun, too. And thank you for telling me this, for… you know…”

“You are too sappy,” Dada laughed. Eventually the girls found them on the beach and they were right back on the bus, multiple windows down, everyone in high chatty spirits.

“ALRIGHT EVERYONE WE GOT TWO HOURS TO LOOK GLAM. BRUNO IS DOING HIS BEST TO AVOID POTHOLES, BUT ITS STILL GONNA BE A BUMPY RIDE SO BE CAREFUL WITH THE MASCARA!” Vanjie stood in front of the bus with the microphone, hand on Bruno’s shoulder as he pulled the bus out of the parking lot. He grabbed the microphone from her hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m taking it smooth. But I’m asking you all to remember that there is one bathroom, and potentially fifteen of you are getting dressed. Please do so in a calm and orderly fashion. And enjoy the ride, it’s truly beautiful here.”

Nymphia immediately pulled out her huge makeup kit, balancing it on her legs as she dug through the bin. Tia and Dada looked at each other with a laugh before pulling makeup out of their own bags.

“Girls, I think the last time I did my makeup in a car like this was going to a Harry Styles concert,” Crystal said as she pulled out her dirty makeup brushes. “How are we gonna wet our beauty blenders??”

“Ummm… carefully using a water bottle?” Dada suggested with a shrug.

After twenty minutes of Crystal spilling the water in her lap, Tia forgetting to put on primer, Gothy poking her eye ten different times, Nymphia and Jane fighting over the tiny mirror Nymphia brought, and Dada’s liquid eyeliner going on a streak across her cheek, Vanjie deemed them “absolute messes.”

“ALRIGHT you girls are hopeless! Everyone wait your turn, I’m at least doing your eyeliner and falsies cause I know you’ll die!” She exclaimed, immediately grabbing Dada’s face to start her eyeliner.

“Thank you Vanjie,” they all muttered.

An hour before they arrived the girls had the last of Bruno’s macarons, Crystal noticeably only had one, Tia and Dada had a whole one but each gave bites to Nymphia and Gothy. Jane split one with Vanjie, who also had two to herself.

It was fun, getting ready for the night. Crystal somehow got her hands on a pour spout (Tia had a feeling she stole it from Bruno’s bar) and was pouring shots of vodka into everyone’s mouths, 1989 (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift (Specifically New Romantics) blasting on the bus. Nymphia was helping Tia put her hair in space buns, smacking her shoulder every time she winced at how tightly she pulled. Tia was gonna miss this. she hoped she stayed friends with Nymphia and Crystal for the semester, no way they wouldn’t. Tia already accepted never seeing Jane or Gothy again, that was girlhood. But she would forever like and comment on every single one of their instagram posts. But one look at Dada, and…

“I NEED TO GET DRUNKER!” Dada exclaimed. “Is that a word? More drunk? Drunker? More drunk?” The words sounded funny with her French accent, something Tia already missed hearing. What the fuck? Why was she all of a sudden so sad all the time?

“I think I do too,” she breathed, grabbing the bottle out of Jane’s sweaty hands and chugging for a scarily impressive amount of time before handing it to Dada. “Remember in Venice? Lido? When we were just…”

“So bad at drinking? Yes. We had to get used to cheap vodka and wine like backpackers,” she laughed, handing the bottle back to Tia. Dada could already feel the warm liquor traveling down her throat into her stomach, burning hot. She watched Tia take another few chugs off the bottle, not caring that she was staring, knowing she must look like some kid in awe. She was though, wasn’t she? Just so in awe. Or maybe just already drunker.

“Are we there yet are we there yet are we there yet,” Nymphia whined once they were all ready. Tia looked around, what an interesting group to see at the club tonight.

Nymphia, of course, was wearing a neon yellow pleather skirt and cropped tank top set with high platform sandals that almost looked like heels. “Yes, I’m already squeaking. But it’s worth it.”

Dada had put her hair up in a high braided ponytail, it was probably for the best knowing how hot it would be at the club, even if it was outside. She wore a bright teal halter top-mini dress that matched her white heeled boots perfectly.

“Dada you literally look like Elsa!” Crystal gushed. She was wearing a short, neon pink tulle dress that had a small train in the back, her hair was in a loose bun, she was giving ethereal princess vibes.

“Do I look like Anna?” Jane piped up, wearing a fiery orange romper that her ass hung out of, she had her hair up in pigtails.

“Absolutely not!” Tia cackled, wrapping an arm around Dada. “If anything I look more like Anna somehow.” She was wearing a two piece outfit, a neon lilac mini skirt and a matching strappy bra, and she had thrown her hair up in two space buns. Dada couldn’t help but notice how the purple made Tia’s auburn highlights burn even brighter.

“Girls, shut the fuck up, Bruno is ready to go!” Gothy was already standing at the bus door, of course she had called dibs on neon green the second she could, already owning a lace up leather dress with matching knee high boots.

And Vanjie’s neon red catsuit was enough to turn any head. Accompanied by her and Jane’s screaming as they walked in, and everyone on the dance floor cheering Vanjie’s name, Tia and Dada could only hold onto each other as they laughed. How were they still shocked by Vanjie’s apparent fame of some sort? Of course servers were already flooding them with bottles of different liquor, Vanjie hadn’t been able to get them a cabana but at least she spoiled them with bottle service.

If Tia was being real, she was really going to miss the luxury of hanging out with Vanjie, even if it was a little disorienting. But what she would really miss the most about it all was all the bewildered looks she shared with Dada. How was she going to miss even that?

Of course Nymphia made Dada ask the server if they had Red Bull and lemonade in Italian.

“I love when you speak in Italian, it’s so sexy,” Tia whispered, lips brushing Dada’s ear as they waited for Nymphia to pour their shots. Dada laughed, turning so their faces were merely centimeters apart, humming in response. “Say something in Italian.”

“Faccia di culo.”

“What does that mean?”

“Assface.”

“BITCH!”

Tia couldn’t tell you much about that night, other than the lights were flashing, the floor was pounding, and Dada didn’t leave her side all night. Through Bruno going up to fill in for a DJ who got sick, Nymphia insisting on dancing behind him like she was Charli XCX, and Jane and Vanjie absolutely slaying a dance circle, it was some of the most fun she’s ever had. And maybe, just maybe, the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen. Maybe it was because Dada insisted on taking pictures of Tia, and had all of a sudden become addicted to pressing quick kisses to Tia’s shoulder, her neck, the back of her hand, basically anywhere but her face which was somehow too obvious.

But Tia swore, and this time she really meant it, she had never seen the sun so golden. She had never seen it paint such swirls of deep purple and burning red to end the night. And of course the stars were shining so bright eventually, it still blew Tia away how they looked on the island, how they hadn’t twinkled like this anywhere else in Italy. She just didn’t want the night to end, knowing the drunker she got, the crazier and longer the night would be, and she would definitely forget to be sad. She had managed to get her hands on a few shots of tequila, and tequila is the only alcohol that isn’t a depressant. Allegedly. she couldn’t even remember where she heard that from, she just really wanted to believe it.

Placebo or not, it worked. No one wanted the night to end, especially Dada, who insisted they take the long way back to the bus, taking a detour through the tiny town by the club, stumbling down the lit up cobblestone streets. All Dada could do was laugh when Vanjie texted them to hurry the fuck up, that everyone was on the bus ready to leave.

Tia and Crystal laughed the whole way back to the bus, running past the stumbling Dada and Gothy. They hadn’t seen Jane and Nymphia in a while, Tia thought she definitely saw Nymphia pulling Jane down some narrow street, up to no good. Tia didn’t know if they made it back to the bus by luck, or if Dada had actually steered them in the right direction. She saw Jane and Nymphia sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette. Tia couldn’t even think of one right now, anything in her mouth other than water would make her throw up. Definitely. Maybe another shot wouldn’t hurt but no. The night was over. She tried not to fall asleep just yet as Bruno spoke into the microphone, pulling out of the parking garage.

“And now it is time for our night drive back to the Villa. Some could say, the most beautiful drive of the trip, because of your reflection in the window.”

Tia would never remember the three hour bus ride back to the villa, her and Dada just dozed with their heads leaned against each other, trying to pretend the trip wasn’t nearly over.

They were okay. Eventually they made it back to the villa and Tia was going down the hall into her room with Dada. And she wasn’t even gonna think about the fact that this was their last real night together, that tomorrow night they’d be on a ferry, the next night on a bus, only getting to sleep a few hours in Perugia in the morning before Dada left and Tia was alone. Tia wasn’t gonna think about that. she just opened the door, going in after Dada, two giggling messes with tears in their eyes.

_

Dada woke up the next morning and refused to open her eyes. She knew. She moved her arm, stopping when she felt Tia’s shoulder brush it. Still, without opening her eyes, she curled up to Tia, pretending they were still asleep. And that she wasn’t gonna have to throw up in five minutes. Dada didn’t open her eyes until Tia spoke a few minutes later, like she’d been awake all morning.

“Okay I’m bored, stop pretending you're asleep so we can hang out.”

Dada let out a breath of laughter, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she looked up at Tia, who really could’ve been awake all morning.

“I didn’t even know you were awake, I’m sorry,” Dada pushed herself up further to press her lips against Tia’s, just wanting to stay in the moment and remember her, everything as she cupped her cheek, pulling her down closer until Dada was back to laying down, Tia leaning over her, running her hand down Dada’s shoulder, tits, waist, hips, and back up to her hair, of course, twirling the ends gently between her fingers as she moved to trailing kisses down the side of her neck, starting to leave a hickey probably on purpose. Definitely on purpose.

“That’ll give you something to dream about,” Tia muttered and Dada’s hand flung to her mouth, she immediately leapt out of bed.

“I am going to hurl.”

_

“So basically all you dumb fucks are hungover and I’m… fine?!” Tia giggled at the breakfast table, receiving glares from Nymphia, Jane, and Gothy. Dada just shook her head.

“No Tia, dipshit, you’re still drunk,” Crystal said evenly. If she put too much emotion in her voice, she’d throw up. “I was like that too this morning. You’ll see. You’ll crash,” Tia might’ve had a witty comeback but she stopped when Jane got up from the table, running to the bathroom like Dada had earlier. She came back only a minute later, pale and sweaty, her usual slicked back ponytail now a frizzy mess. Jane slumped into her chair, just looking at the glass of water in front of her.

“Today…” She grumbled weakly. “We will spend it here on our private…” She looked like she was going to throw up again, but just took a deep breath. “Beach. Make sure you pack up your stuff we’re leaving at-,” Jane gagged, running off again towards the bathroom.

“We’re leaving here at five pm, and remember to pack only what you’ll need for the next two nights in a backpack, the rest of our luggage will be packed below the bus and delivered to your apartments in Perugia. It is noon, so we have five hours…” Dada finished, looking sadly at Tia. Her stomach dropped as tears already began rising to her eyes.

“Yup…” Tia nodded. “I’m gonna go throw up now.”

_

Tia and Dada sat tangled together on one of the sun loungers. The bubbles Crystal was blowing a few feet away were drifting past them. Tia hoped her sunglasses were hiding the tears threatening to fall as Dada ran her hand up and down her arm. She looked out at the view, she would never see it again after today. It’ll be there, but Tia never will be again, maybe Dada will be on next year's tour. If she did, she bet Dada would stay out tanning and smoking all day, that’s what she always did before Tia came along, right? Relax? Tia couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Truth is, Dada didn’t know where she would be next year. They only made it to this villa because Jane and her liked two girls enough to ditch everything else, which was a little embarrassing. They’d probably be in Catanzaro next year, or fired for cutting out half the itinerary while also changing it daily without telling the company at all. And Tia- Well, either way Dada would be in Italy.

“Girls! Can we please actually play in this pool!” Crystal begged, already at the edge. “Rate my cannonball.” Dada and Tia laughed, slowly stretching before joining Crystal in the pool. It wasn’t over yet. They still had three hours. They still had to pack, sure. But it wasn’t over. It wasn’t over. Yet. No matter what the emails Tia had been deleting said, no matter how much it was casually mentioned, Tia held on to the “almost” of it all. It wasn’t over. It was almost over. Almost. And almost could be enough for these next… did they really only have barely 48 hours left?

“Ten!” Tia called once Crystal’s head popped out from under the water.

“Yes! Ten!” Dada pressed a kiss onto Tia's burning skin, and she wished she would wake up from this dream already.

_

Like always, the girls underestimated just how much of a mess they had made, and were running late to leave the villa. But packing up after living in a villa for five days was a lot harder than packing up in a hotel room. Nymphia insisted they only needed an hour to get ready to leave. They didn’t expect to run around the house for forty five minutes just trying to find all the missing articles of clothing and shoes they’d left lying around. Needless to say, if they didn’t hurry up, the group was going to miss their ferry.

“NYMPHIA, HURRY THE FUCK UP!” Tia called through a cracked voice, rapidly choosing two sets of pajamas, a swimsuit, a pair of shorts and a shirt, and a dress to wear to meet her professors. Oh god, she was going to meet her professors the day after tomorrow? She was already starting her long list of goodbyes and even longer list of hellos.

“We’re already late!” Dada called from their bathroom, kneeling on her suitcase to zip it shut.

“This is the fourth clip I have of you girls all YELLING at me!” Nymphia had decided to wait until everyone was packing at the last minute to film a villa tour, much to everyone’s annoyance. Tia was going to cry. No, she actually was already crying, but had gotten good at hiding it. Maybe. Her hands were shaking as she put her toiletries bag in her backpack and zipped it up. She was ready to go. She was packed up, she made sure she had everything she had, and that she wasn’t leaving anything behind, even though she liked the thought of even a little part of her staying at the villa for more than these five days. But she hadn’t. She was ready to go. But was she?

The answer was obvious.

They all ran onto the bus with absolutely no time to spare, Bruno along with them. They didn’t have time to question it, they didn’t even get a moment to give the villa a little goodbye, the engine was just being started and Jane was opening the gate before they all drove out. Tia, Dada, Nymphia, Jane, and Crystal sat in the seats directly behind Gothy, all already reminiscing on their time spent. It wasn’t over, it’s almost over. It’s almost…- but it didn’t feel that way. Not at all. Dada didn’t know what possessed Nymphia to put on Phoebe Bridgers, but no one could object without their voice breaking out into a light sob.

Tia could hear Dada’s heart pounding in her chest, almost in tempo with the song. She hated how the sky was already sinking into a darker blue, soon to be replaced with a blinding orange far too quickly, and far too early in the night. Tia refused to keep on counting the hours, instead she just curled up closer to Dada, feeling sicker than she did that morning. All the girls watched out the window as the coast came in and out of view, they were all laughing as Gothy gagged when finding out about Jane and Nymphia on the bus in Genoa.

“You both are awful!” Gothy cackled, flipping them off in the rear view mirror, and Dada was happy they were all still laughing though the entire summer was about to come crashing down. They didn’t even have forty-eight hours left, and most of them would be spent sleeping, rushing, and probably crying. At least they had one more beach day, at least they had that.

“Okay folks, we are very behind schedule so we gotta be QUICK while boarding this ferry. We’ve done it once, and a lot of you did it drunk, so let's lock in and go!” The group all hustled out of the bus, following Dada who led them to the ticket terminal, hand in the air. They group had just made it in time, as usual, the staff were visibly annoyed with them.

“You know, to them it must just look like sixteen kids all running around Italy together… Well, I guess that is what we are,” Tia said just to Dada.

“Well, they’ll probably forget us in a few weeks. We’ll blend to the back of their mind,” Dada said, almost like it was a comfort to know. “Or we can be one of their horror stories.” Tia laughed harder.

“I bet I already am!”

“… I cannot confirm nor deny that.”

“OKAY! SAME SETUP AS LAST TIME!” Nymphia announced before Tia could respond. Why were they always getting just cut short. They all followed Nymphia to their room, she told Crystal she could leave her mattress in her room, that she would share with Jane tonight. Good. Tia was glad Nymphia had started to miss Jane already too, though she never said it out loud, she didn’t have to. Once they were settled the room fell eerily silent.

Fifteen hours.

How do you make fifteen hours feel like a lifetime? Like an endless summer vacation that neither would ever have to pay for?

“Do we… wanna get some wine?” Gothy offered helplessly.

“Yeah,” They all sighed in unison. And so they walked to the deck’s bar and each ordered a glass of wine. Dada spotted a few of the group members she didn't know the names of laughing in a big group together. They were all sad but making the best of it despite everything too, weren’t they? She forgot they also could and were making friend groups and memories, also laughing wildly and having fun recreating the iconic Titanic pose. Dada wasn’t annoyed with them at all, last year she would’ve been, but now she was just glad that they had made amazing memories too.

“Come on, I don’t think we ever even made it to the top of the ship last time!” She called, already heading towards the stairs.

“Woah, wait up!” Tia spilled her wine a bit when running, but didn’t bother to stop.

“Come on! You know you all want to see the view anyway.” Dada was right, they did want to see the view, and what a view it was. The smallest sliver of sun was still in the sky, the lights on the deck had already been turned on, but Dada was sure the sun would’ve been bright enough to light them up for a few minutes longer. “We should get pictures.”

“Dada, you sound like me, I love it. It’s our second to last sunset ladies! Picture time!” Nymphia was already shoving her phone in Jane’s hands. Tia couldn’t help but notice the flickering smile on Dada’s face, she didn’t ask if she was okay, as if Dada would tell her the truth anyway.

“Tia, I want pictures with you,” Dada pulled her toward the edge of the deck, Tia handed Gothy her phone.

“We all know Gothy gets the perfect angles,” she joked, hands finding Dada’s waist as they began to pose. Gothy even took a few of them kissing in the stupid old-Hollywood pose, how was Tia going to explain those ones? Even worse, how bad were they going to feel when she got them in her Snapchat memories in one year?

“You need to send those all to me,” Dada said once Tia got her phone back from Gothy. “We’ll have to make a giant shared album tonight.”

“Oh god, my phone storage isn’t going to survive the semester.” There it was again, the all too familiar reminder that Tia couldn’t help but let slip from her mouth, or maybe she was trying to remind Dada. Why did she feel embarrassed for asking for the photos now?

“Oh, you girls don’t even want to know how many candids I have of you two from this trip…” Nymphia actually gave a sweet smile. “I would get a scrapbook if I were you, honestly.” They couldn’t help but smile too.

“C’mon, let’s get some Polaroids.”

_

“I miss Bruno’s food…” Crystal muttered as they sat in the small dining hall. The sun was long gone by now, a lot of people had already gone to their rooms for the night. Why had the night winded down so much faster than the day did? The girls only got two glasses of wine each, none of them really felt like drinking, there was just too much to forget in these last few hours. Tia would remember how terribly her chest ached every time someone yawned, or subtly checked the time on their phone. She would remember how Nymphia and Jane would be the first to turn in, and all the other girls would laugh as they agreed to give them some time before joining them. Tia will remember being thankful for that.

“Forty-five has to be enough, right? I have to drive tomorrow…” Gothy yawned. She’d remember how quickly the ache returned. Crystal went to bed just thirty minutes after Gothy, only staying to share a few cigarettes with Tia and Dada.

“Remember when I was the worst cock block in Milan?” They got shushed from a worker for laughing so loudly. And after a weak goodnight, Tia and Dada were alone and unable to look at each other. Tia turned to the stars. The sky never failed her. It was cold, and knowing it would only get colder made her boil. She shook her head slightly, did the stars really always look like this when clear? Tia didn’t know, she swore they looked different in the U.K. At least they felt different. Everything here felt different, everything felt too good to be true, because it was. And here was Tia, the living proof. Venice… was it then she looped her arm with Dada’s? Milan, that was when all the girls got sloppy drunk, Tia liked to think that was the night they all really became friends. Real ones. She turned to look at Dada, they were friends too, right? She had told her things that no one else knew, when no one else could hear them. Could anyone hear them now?

“I-“ Tia jumped at the volume of her voice, or maybe it was just how it clashed with the stale silence. “I romanticize shit, a lot…”

“Really?” Dada let herself sound amused, because she was, she had to be while she could.

“I romanticized everything. Every new year of school was just a reset, a new Tia, I doubt anyone noticed but I did. Each year I had friends I knew since I was eight, I had friends I had made just that year, and I had something to grow out of. And I did. I think I just kept growing out of people, or they grew out of me. I don’t know. But I really thought that Uni, Uni would be my real reset, re-start. No one knew me there, I really could be anyone I wanted. I found a good group of girls, we became close, like, really quick. I wouldn’t have survived freshman year without them, and when you go through all of your first year together, it was hard to break apart from them. I love them, really, I do. But… they don’t get it… me. They’re all boy crazy and I’m so… gay. I nod along and support them, and comfort them when their hearts gets broken, kiss them when we’re drunk but- I wanted Uni to be my final reset. Find my people who I’d stick with and run with them for the rest of my life, until they felt like old friends from home but…” Tia realized she had barely taken a breath throughout all that. Dada silently lit a cigarette and passed it to Tia before wrapping her arm around her. “I hate that I don’t love them the way I do my three friends from my hometown. I romanticized everything like it was a chore. And it has become one. But I didn’t romanticize this,” She let out a wet laugh. “I didn’t have to.” Dada held onto Tia tighter, like she was the only thing holding her pieces together in the moment. “I haven’t even talked to the friends from home that my college friends couldn’t compete with since the trip started, so that says something. I wonder what they’re doing…”

“They sound like bitches…” Dada said quietly. And Tia burst out laughing, loud and bright how she hadn’t been able to in what felt like ages. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not the best answer-,”

”No! No, that’s the perfect answer! That’s why I like you, if I said that to my friends in college they’d look at me like I was nuts. They just don’t get… I don’t get them. I think that’s it. Or they don’t get me. Or I don’t even know.”

“Well… it seems like Crystal and Nymphia get you,” Dada offered, smiling fondly thinking about the girls.

“They do. Not like you do, though,” Tia couldn’t help but whisper, looking out at nothing in particular. Dada tried to think of anything to say, so she lit another cigarette and let her eyes return to the stars.

“When Jane said we were even going to Sardinia, my heart dropped. I didn’t want to… have memories of you in a place that I don’t have great memories of. But I’m glad we went, I… saw it in a new way. You painted it golden. You made the city fall for you, the way you swore you would. And I’m glad we took this stupid ferry,” She chuckled into Tia’s hair.

“About that, wouldn’t a train or bus leaving Nice have been faster? You’re the one who always complains about the long bus rides.”

“I was feeling very dramatic and-” Dada almost pulled back. “And I don’t like taking trains. I always cried the whole way back home after summers in Italy because I didn’t want to leave. And, uh- It’s stupid to say out loud but… on a ferry I could be outside in the Nice air as long as possible, and I hoped maybe it would make me want to turn around. Needless to say…” and Dada smiled when Tia laughed lightly. “You’ll find your people, or your people will find you. That’s what Jane and Gothy did, and my other roommates. I’m glad their annoying asses forced their ways into my life. Leaving home wasn’t ideal, it’s not what I dreamed of, but it’s for the better.”

Dada was sixteen last time she took this ride back from Sardinia, but she felt older then than she did now. Though confused and dreadfully young, she felt more secure and brave at sixteen than she did now, holding the girl from Essex in her arms and letting stories spill out of her. Telling her deepest secrets to the group member who thirty days ago Dada was complaining about, not even knowing she existed yet. “If people don’t understand you, they don’t deserve to even know you, Miss Tia. Oddly enough, Jane taught me that one,” Dada muttered into Tia’s hair.

And despite herself, Tia smiled, somehow holding Dada tighter. Could either of them breathe at this point? Did either of them want to? All they knew is that eventually it got too cold to stay out and they hobbled back to their shared room, accidentally stepping on Crystal who stayed asleep.

Tia’s chest still felt heavy despite getting some words off it, and her mind was still racing though she had soaked up some of Dada’s thoughts, and she wondered if things would ever feel easy again, or if Dada would strain her heart for who knows how long. Either way, they held on tight, not annoyed with each other like the last time they were on the ferry, but this time just… sad. Tia’s tired head was racing, she wondered if she would be able to sleep at all, if the slight rocking of the boat would lull her in, or if the rising and falling of Dada’s chest would be enough to get her to close her eyes. But how could Tia sleep when she knew?

When she knew this was almost her last time falling asleep next to Dada.

_

For some reason when Tia woke up the next morning, the first thing she remembered was the fact that she was meeting her professors tomorrow, and moving into a new apartment. And here she was crammed on a tiny cot with Dada in the middle of the sea.

At 10am the ferry arrived in Naples, and then the trip wasn’t almost over anymore, it was over. No more itineraries (not that there had been many lately), no more old churches or ruins, no more plaques to pretend to read. Just one last beach day. Welcome back to Naples. Thank god it was just a beach day. Their final beach day.

From the beach Tia could barely see the tour bus, she couldn’t help but think the next, and last time they’d board the bus it would be to head to Perugia. Their luggage had been locked underneath it for a day now, and soon enough they would be unpacking them in their apartments. What the fuck? None of this felt real. Maybe because the past week felt too real.

The rest of the tour group all played in the waves, music blaring from one of their speakers. Funny to think that was them just two weeks ago, when time was moving perfectly still. Time just moved differently now. Almost too slow, too painstakingly slow. Like torture. Tia was forced to stand with her feet in the sand with Dada one last time, shielding her hands from the sun to watch Jane and Crystal taking turns drowning each other as Nymphia sat on the water’s edge reffing, screaming when the waves came up and covered her whole lap, not just her ankles. How was this the same beach they’d gone to when Crystal got dumped? How was this the same beach Tia and Crystal got ungodly drunk on before the ferry ride to Sardinia just SIX days before?

The sun was too painfully bright, forcing Tia and Dada to mark every hour passed with every layer of sunscreen, the most boring, tedious time tracker. Tia couldn’t even get drunk, too hungover and not willing to leave Dada sober and in the dust again.

There was nothing worse than this. Tia tried to be peppy as Nymphia and Crystal forced them to take so many pictures, both in and out of the water, all the different group/pair combos possible, and of course, a golden hour photoshoot.

“Well, it's our last photoshoot of the trip,” Nymphia defended after Jane begged to be done laying in the sand getting the perfect angle of Nymphia’s ass for her instagram. Tia wished she wasn’t reminded. After the photoshoot they began to walk off in different directions, but Nymphia grabbed Crystal and Tia before they could. She didn’t look at them as she started speaking, steering them away from Dada, Nymphia, and Gothy.

“Listen,” She sighed. “Um… you guys, have like-” Tia and Crystal shared a confused look. “Are we going to have to say goodbye tomorrow?” Nymphia asked weakly. “This summer, Jane’s been great and… but I don’t know, I would’ve been miserable without you two. And I’m gonna be miserable if I don’t have you for the rest of the semester.” Tia forgot that she could be saying goodbye to Crystal and Nymphia tomorrow. Weren’t they inseparable? Was that even allowed? Was everything really that up in the air?

“No… No, right? We’re not…” Crystal trailed off. “Girls?” And now Tia was crying, not even bothering to hide her tears as she pulled them into a hug that also served as a huddle.

“No. No. Us three, we are not a summer fling. We’re friends. We’re-” Tia let out a wet laugh. “We won that fucking wine.” They all burst out laughing. “They can never take that from us!”

“That’s right! Perugia is a walking city, or it can be, I’ll make it one. Our apartments can’t be that far from each other! Aren’t all the exchange students in one building? We’ll be fine.” Nymphia said firmly. “You girls are like… my best friends or whatever. I love you.”

“Nymphie…” Crystal and Tia cried together, pulling their hug in tighter.

“We love you too, and we have absolutely no need to cry because we are going to see each other! We will!” Tia said, jumping with the two other girls.

“Hey! Get your asses over here!”

The six girls laughed wildly in the ocean like the rest of the tour group had been, feeling the drunkest they had been on the trip despite not a drop of alcohol in them. Tia was now happy about how slowly the time had been moving until she realized the golden hue around Dada standing beside her was because the sun was really beginning to set. She wasn’t just imagining it, trying to admire her, trying to have one last golden picture in her head. It was really just over. Just like that, ankle deep in the water, laughing about something Nymphia had bitched about to Gothy. Now it just hurt even to look at her. Funny how quickly the laughter in Tia’s chest could be replaced by an unshakable weight so quickly.

She had to tear her eyes away from Dada, preferring to stare straight into the setting sun and pretending the harsh beams were sending tears to her eyes. Dada’s eyes followed Tia’s and she felt just as blinded by the setting sun, like she hadn’t been dreading it all day. All she could do was come up behind Tia, looping an arm around her waist like she had been all summer, burying her face in her neck. Dada didn’t even want to speak, Tia didn’t either.

Just one week ago Jane was telling Dada to let go of her dread. That didn’t feel half as bad as this. And then Jane said the dreaded words that no one was prepared for, it seemed even she wasn’t.

“Alright guys… we should start packing up so we can go get changed. In twenty minutes we’ve gotta walk to the bus,” she said half heartedly to the group. Tia stole a glance at Dada, still pressed into her side, and instantly regretted it, seeing how she was so obviously trying to be okay. But no one was okay, from Nymphia refusing to help, instead blasting Ribs (Lorde) and staring into the water, to Vanjie actually crying in Gothy’s arms. Tia felt that.

Too soon they were walking away from the beach, arms loaded and heads full of sun, everyone rinsing off in the shower house, just getting dressed in pajamas and big hoodies, most people planning to sleep on the bus. They’d be arriving in Perugia at midnight, but Tia had no plans of sleeping, immediately bolting down the aisle to snag the three seats in the back with Dada, where they could actually lounge and fit somewhat comfortably. A lame part of Tia couldn’t help but want to cry because she knew that while she’d definitely see Dada again and they’d make new memories, they’d never be crammed on a stale crowded tour bus like this ever again. What an odd thing to already miss. Once Jane did a final headcount, she nodded to Gothy, and she pulled out of the garage without a word. It was really over, just like that.

“Alright my friends.” Jane said into her microphone, standing right in front of Nymphia. “I guess… I guess this concludes our trip. Um…” God please don’t let Jane cry, it’ll make Tia cry. “I don’t know. Try to catch some Za’s while Gothy drives to beautiful Perugia, where our story began just 29 days ago. We’ll get there around midnight, we all have hotel rooms for one last night. Then tomorrow I guess a professor from the University will be over to explain your next steps as students at the university. Thank you. Thank you for being the best tour group yet, this month has been… I don’t know, a slay, I guess. Dada, Gothy, and I love you all so much, truly. And we hope you have the best semester ever. THANK YOU. NOW. Nymphia has three baggies for tips, one for me, one for Dada, and one for Gothy to be passed around. We accept all forms of currency, scratch tickets, gift cards, and illegal substances. Nothing crazy hard though. Thank you!”

Nymphia brought the bags to the back, handing them to Tia first. Tia put a few bills in Jane and Gothy’s, that was enough for them. She didn’t know how much to put in Dada’s, who was making a point to look away with a smirk. There was no way to repay her for everything that summer. Tia had rationed her money pretty well, only really spending it on weed, cigarettes, and food. And wine. So she had a considerable chunk left of her summer allowance for the trip. Whatever. She figured she could get Italian money somewhere in Perugia as she dumped her wallet in Dada’s bag. If she couldn’t promise her anything after the trip, the least she could do was get the girl an 1/8th. Even though she grew her own weed. Whatever. Tia looked up at Dada after she passed the bag up, wondering what she was thinking as she looked out the window, catching just the last rays of the setting sun. Tia couldn’t help but remember the drive from Genoa to Rome, when she sat in the back of the bus spilling everything to Crystal and Nymphia. She still wondered what Dada was thinking.

Dada used to believe the summers ran away from her. The absolute worst part of the tour was coming home and realizing she only had about a week and a half left of summer before it was time to begin her next seasonal job. Or even when she was leaving a summer in Italy with her nana and cousins, Dada remembered her knees shaking as she waited for her mother at the train platform in Nice with red, wet cheeks; when she once wished summers never ended.

She never thought she would dread a summer ending again, not until now.

They pulled onto the highway just as the sun left the sky, waiting till the very last second to leave. Being so late, most of the tour members slept on the way back. In fact, everyone but Tia, Dada, Jane, and Nymphia decided to fall asleep. And Gothy, of course. Even then, Jane and Nymphia sat pressed tightly together sharing a pair of wired earbuds as they whispered to each other, Nymphia laying on Jane ’s chest. Tia’s head rested in the crook of Dada’s neck, feeling her pulse as they watched the black night sky out the window. Dada could just make out their reflections in the mirror, she couldn’t help but stare at Tia’s sad smile.

This… this is what everyone warned them about. Here they were staring out the window at nothing they hadn’t seen before, their final hours ticking away. Dada felt like she could puke, she felt like everything had already been said. Selfishly, Dada just wished she could say goodbye to Tia and go home, let herself cry in a bed that’s her own.

But the thought of saying goodbye this instant did nothing more than bring sharp tears to the back of her eyes. The worst part is Dada knew better. She knew she was dumb for falling so clumsily, spilling over completely. She found her mind and mouth blank but dying to speak. Tia scooted forward slightly, craning her neck to look at the crescent moon, and Dada could tell she felt a little lost too.

“In Nice, we lived right on the beach. I only had to go down a steep rocky hill to be right in the sand. Of course the beach was so popular. In the day it is crowded by tourists but at night, old friends and I would go smoke there. The moon would peek over the mountains to the west. So beautiful,” Dada tried to say like this was the first time she had even thought about that beach in months. Tia shifted so her chin was on Dada’s shoulder, eyes gazing up at her. “Yes… yes and there is a looong stretch of restaurants, bars, and shops if you walking on the beach. That’s where I got my first job. There was this one bartender who believed we were 18! She rarely worked though, so we would take turns checking every night. When she worked, we drank. No matter what,” Dada chuckled, Tia laughed too.

“So the beach was the big tourist attraction?” She asked, pressing for more information gently, denying these were last-ditch confessions.

“No. The whole town was. Celebrities, the richest of the rich, the poor backpackers with stars in their eyes. Everyone came to Nice if they could afford it. I hated how crowded it got, but when I was a waitress the money was so good. Especially with stupid tourist tips. There was always something to do, something to see, a new friend to make, a stranger to help. A tourist to roll your eyes at,” Words slipped out of Dada’s mouth, almost like she was trying to give one last bit of herself to Tia. “I loved my house, I loved my room. I wonder if they ever found all the pictures I drew on the wall behind my bed,” Dada wondered out loud. “I swear I’ve never seen springs so green, Tia. I’ve never breathed salty air like that anywhere else.”

“You loved it there?” Tia said for Dada.

“Yes. I loved it. But love wasn’t enough. The good didn’t outweigh the bad and I… I don’t know…I don’t know…” Dada trailed off. Tia played with the sleeve of Dada’s hoodie. “So. Why Italy?”

Tia giggled, knowing she had heard Dada say those words before. When, she didn’t even know. All she knew is her chest ached for it anyways. Dada spoke again. “Not even Italy, though. Why a semester abroad? Why leave?”

Tia sighed. Dada couldn’t help but turn and press a long kiss to her neck. Tia let herself speak without regret.

“My family is okay but… I don’t know they can be the biggest assholes,” she whispered. “I don’t think they mean it? I hope they don't but… but they just always had something to say, always. And I was always me, and I was always there. It wasn’t really my parents or siblings. I love them, I really have the best parents ever. But it’s everyone else. It’s the aunts and uncles and insane grannies and their sisters who can’t keep their mouths shut. They never- I never thought they… I just didn’t fit in there,” Tia looked up at Dada, whose only response was a very quiet:

“Family. That’s why I left too.” She slowly began to tell her tale. “My mother was sixteen when she met my father. he was nineteen. She was very beautiful, back in the day I’m told. My sister was born only one year after they got married, a week after my she turned eighteen. I was born five years later. It didn’t take them very long to realize their marriage was… loveless. But they stayed together. I don’t think they ever even wanted kids, they just rushed into everything, all passion, all fights, no brains. No care. They gave up raising me once I turned ten, I feel like. I would make basically every dinner for myself, I have no clue what they were up to. But I liked being alone better than being around them fighting, and taking it out on us. I miss my sister, more than anything. She’s the one who told me to go, to breathe some fresh Italian air for a couple years. I need to visit, just for her. And my cousins. But my parents, and the whole rest of my family… I could never bring you home to them. They would hate me forever. So I left. And here I am.” Dada finished. Tia could only look at her. Dada laughed a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked that much in my life. God. I need to shut up. My throat hurts. Tell me about you.”

“My grandmother hates my clothes. So much. Basically calls me a slut without calling me a slut. And because I’ve never brought a boyfriend to meet the family, she accuses me of being a lesbian every time I see her. And I haven’t had the heart to tell her she’s correct, since she gags every time she sees a gay person on TV. But she’s still my best friend.”

“You’re a good person,” Dada muttered, raising one of Tia’s hands to her mouth to kiss it. Without thinking, her eyes drifted to the clock letting her know they only had two hours until they arrived in Perugia. she felt sick again; she caught Tia’s eyes in the dark window. Tia, who had also just realized they only had two hours until Perugia, couldn’t fight the tears in her eyes. A tear ran down her cheek, causing the tears that had been stinging Dada’s eyes to finally begin to well. She blinked them away quickly.

“Don’t cry… just keep talking. Come on, what about the good parts of Essex?” And so Tia began talking about all the parts of Essex she hadn’t painted with dark strokes of gray. And they talked the entire two hours back to Perugia, not wasting a breath of air between them. And god, Tia had dreaded so many four hour bus rides only to wish this one was a little bit longer. But of course, eventually Gothy pulled off an exit and eventually pulled up to the same hotel they’d stayed in at the beginning of the trip. And all of a sudden, it was really the last night.

Like clockwork Tia and Nymphia didn’t bother going to their assigned hotel rooms, Nymphia just slinked into Jane’s and Tia into Dada’s. As soon as the door was shut they were kicking off their shoes, before exhaustedly plopping onto the bed. Dada buried her head in Tia’s chest hoping it would hide the tears in her eyes, Tia pretended it did.

“Please don’t fall asleep…” Dada muttered after a moment, voice shaking.

“I won't,” Tia responded instantly, softly. “I won't. I’m up.” But she could feel a yawn in her throat, and a shaky exhale was all it took to make the tears come rolling. They laid in that hotel bed, basked in the dingey gold lighting, holding onto each other as they silently sobbed in one another’s arms. No one would hear about this. Not a soul. Tia would leave this out of the stories she told once she got back home, Dada would not think about it for so long that when she finally remembers, she’ll be sure she’s just imagining it. Tia winced when Dada let out a choked sob into her shoulder, she hated this part.

At some point, they both fell asleep with not another word said.

…

Sunrise got us up early

So we put on our shade

Somehow the bedsheets are dirty

Like sticky sweet lemonade

Never wanna leave this room

Daydream, déjà vu

If I had control over you

We could stay like this forever, lost in wonderland

With our head above the clouds, fallin' stupid like we're kids

Wearin' rose colored lenses, let's just play pretend

Wearin' rose colored lenses, pretend we'll never end

Naked in conversation

Drown me in your delight

Endless summer vacation

Make it last 'til we die

My baby got looks that kill

Make a mess of a nice hotel

If I had control over you

We could stay like this forever, lost in wonderland

With our head above the clouds, fallin' stupid like we're kids

Wearin' rose colored lenses, let's just play pretend

Wearin' rose colored lenses, pretend we'll never end

Let's stay like this forever

Let's stay like this forever

Let's stay like this forever

Let's stay like this forever

We could stay like this forever, lost in wonderland

With our head above the clouds, fallin' stupid like we're kids

Wearin' rose colored lenses, let's just play pretend

Wearin' rose colored lenses, pretend we'll never end

Let's stay like this forever (let's just keep pretending)

Let's stay like this forever

[codexassassin]

Animus Session: 105

Lati Rutelveson learns she had given birth to a possible Prussian Monarch in Germania in 1343 BCE

Not born from assassin and or templar heritage she "married" a young man who had a mysterious past, who unraveled their marriage long before he actually spoke of doing so. She never knew a thing of it, but he was a Templar.

She gave birth to a young son who only lived to his eighth year but warned her to an impending doom to her estate and her wellbeing, thus ending all future visits with her son then aged five.

He took her son from her to be raised by "Christian Monks" wanting him to be raised by the Priesthood. She was allowed most of her freedom and never saw him again, except during some holidays as well as visits from her son, so he could at least know his mother.

She told her estate people and they vanished into the Germania wilderness where she, as a man, began training as a vicious assassin.

In 1338 BCE, bands of assassins from her branch, broke upon the templar lands, slaying her son in the process. A Man with a prophecy, he would later return as a teen to be raised by "Great Grandparents" from her side, and train alongside his own mother, now his "sister" in the creed.

With this young man, he became a wizened, well trained, Assassin and Germanic "vude" which is something related to an "Alazar"

An "Alazar" here is like a type of ruler, or clan leader. The mother became a "Wis" or a "Clan trainer" of the people and their assassin lineage was like a Germanic Amazon Warrior, with some borrowed south African culture. They were classified as "aborigines" and considered to be offshoots of the Sanhedrin peoples.

They ended up leaving Germania when they felt the threat had ended, with the son going one way and the mother and the others to the north. I want to say this was the year of 1315 BCE, and thus moving into steppes landscape around the 1310 BCE area.

Around 1303 BCE there was an earthquake in the area, destroying the area * (I've looked on the search engine and they say there are no known earthquakes from the time period, because it is an early period of history. They point to 1303 CE or AD in Crete having a huge one with a tsunami. But there were no waves with this)

Having been older now, at least 85 years of age, Lati ran outside when the earthquake begin and fell into a large hole that opened up breaking her neck and shoulder on impact beneath the "Slovakian Steppes". She only still looked 35 years of age, however.

A Search shows now what is considered Slovakian Steppe Country.

A Map showing Germany and Slovakia in modern day times, the son or brother journeyed to the south, towards "Sabahrah" and they went to "Rah" in the north.

The main food seemed to be steppe veggie like lettuces and cabbages and Gazelle, which was plentiful in the steppe country. However, eating this meat the meat, will change who you are and make you "comfortable" which is not known to be an Assassin emotion or way of life for too long, but there was no war at the time of their occupation.

Life vanished in this entire area for about fifty years, so devastating was the earthquake.

I asked DALL E3 to help pinpoint dress code.

*Never mind the dude holding a gun. I liked his head dress.

[lady-merian]

The Tiffany Problem

Here it is, all in one convenient post :D a huge thank you to @valiantarcher for beta reading and catching so many errors and offering advice on some rough spots. edit: whoops forgot to tag @inklings-challenge in my excitement

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything quite like it; a storm blowing a tree over and leaving a girl in it’s wake. She had a dazed look about her, and  was dressed in the oddest clothes . A short green tunic and long blue trousers. Short boots with dingy white lacing and a flower crown in her shoulder-length nut-brown hair.

It was the flower crown that decided it for me.  If not for that, I might’ve thought she was one of old Halsey’s stablehands, following behind me. Oh yes. Come one and all; a knight has been chosen to slay the dragon. Gawk at him while you can. Ha. The king had sent me to my doom, as though he actually believed I might succeed. Possibly he did. King Arlan was something of an optimist. Whatever the reason, the situation with the dragon was getting desperate, and murmurings against the king’s inaction were increasing. A team of knights would’ve been better suited to this task, (if even that would help) but for whatever reason I alone was chosen.

So here we were, my horse and I, not far from Warian Castle. It would’ve been possible for some curious child to have followed me, but I doubted that was the case here.

I hadn’t intended to be out in the rain at all, but it’d come on so suddenly and there was no shelter to be seen. Woodlands are not the safest place to be caught in a storm, but then again they’re not the worst either. Thankfully that was the only tree that fell, and the rain stopped soon after that.

If you believed the old tales, which I didn’t, her appearance was some sort of omen. It was said that a wood-nymph had appeared to king Talvar right before he took the throne, and gave him the sword that’d vanquished his enemies. Rubbish. All of it.

Well, omen or not, there was something odd about this; my horse and I were soaked through, but she was barely damp. If there’d been shelter nearby, I wish I’d have known about it.

The dazed look hadn’t left her, but she blinked up at me. “You don’t look like any of the knights I’ve seen. Who are you?”

Well it was no wood-nymph after all. Just a girl, still of an age to be making flower crowns. The accent alone would’ve been enough to mark her as a foreigner if I hadn’t already guessed that. I, myself, am not well-traveled. Other than a brief sojourn into the neighboring kingdom of Arion, back when old king Gerard was on the throne, I’ve never even left Telurin. So I couldn’t’ve said where she might be from, only that it wasn’t anywhere I knew of.

If she didn’t recognize the device on my shield, the famous leaping stag of House Rioghan, any answer I could give her would be inadequate. Instead I asked some of my own. “Are you lost, lass? Where are your parents?”

Apparently, my voice did the same thing for her as hers did for me. She blinked up at me again, (must have hit her head on one of the tree’s branches as it fell,) and her eyes widened.

“Whoa, you’re one of the professionals!”

Were we speaking two different languages after all?

She dropped into a near perfect courtesy—near perfect because she was not attired properly, and the rough blue trousers were a poor substitute for a flowing skirt.

“I beg your pardon, Sir Knight,” she said, “but no. I’m not lost, my parents are back watching the juggling act and said I could look for the food vendors.”

“Juggling act?” I looked around, but there was only woodland. Was there a stronghold nearby that I didn’t know about? One with a minor lord who was being entertained by a juggling troupe?

“Yes, back ther—“ she half-turned and gestured behind her, but stopped with a gasp at something I couldn’t see. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Wood nymph. Omen. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I brushed the thoughts aside.

“It’s gone! It’s all—“

She turned back to me, and said in a small voice, “I think…I must be lost after all.”

c>={====>

Her name, she said, was Tiffany. And whatever she said about not being hurt, she must have hit her head when that tree fell.

She said all she felt when she stepped through that stone archway (whatever archway she was talking about) was a strong cold wind and then the fallen tree was in front of her. I’d felt the chill in the wind, but it’s autumn. Of course it’s going to be cold. Yet the sleeves of her tunic were cut short, so her arms were indecently bare from elbow to wrist. I’d have some choice words for her parents about that. She shivered in the telling of her tale.

My cloak was much too damp to be of any use in warming her, but the sun was coming out now.

I dismounted and sat in the brightest patch of sun to dry off while she went to inspect the tree. She ended up circling it three times, (Omen. Wood nymph. I shook the thoughts away yet again) before returning to tell me that she didn’t know where she was and had no idea how to get home.

As if my impossible task wasn’t impossible enough, I now had a charge who probably couldn’t even mount a horse, let alone slay a dragon. I couldn’t leave her stranded here, and I couldn’t take her with me.

If I did believe in the old tales, I’d start thinking I was cursed.

“Where do you live?” I asked cautiously. “Carranburn? Or maybe Ellsbridge, or one of the other surrounding villages?”

Please let it be somewhere close by.

I didn’t know if this counted as a prayer. I didn’t know if I was desperate enough for that yet. What was the difference between the God of All, whom the Priests said was everywhere (though invisible,) and the old tales, which I’d long ago realized were myths? 

“Never heard of them,” said Tiffany, twisting the stem of a fallen leaf between her fingers. “I’m from New Haven. We came down to Fishers for the Faire.”

I hadn’t heard of any places by those names either. “There isn’t a faire around here,” I said.

“I believe you. But that’s why I’m here.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles.”

c>={====>

She still spoke in riddles, no matter what I told her. Only it wasn’t cryptic conundrums like in the legends, it was chatter that made no sense, with words like “Fone” and “Why Fie”. A small device she carried was not behaving quite as it should, apparently. Whatever her small black rectangle was supposed to do, it was not doing it to her satisfaction. She gave up and placed it back somewhere in the folds of her clothes from whence she had pulled it.

“I figured it wouldn’t work,” she said, “but I had to try.”

“Did you now?”

“Yeah, my mom—er.” She glanced at my face with an odd expression. “I mean my mother is going to worry about me. But then maybe not. Maybe I’ll get back and no time will have passed. Like in the stories.”

“Stories.” It wasn’t a question, so I wasn’t disappointed when she responded with a question of her own.

“So where are we?”

Besides the middle of a forest? Where ought I to begin? 

“We are near the townlands of Gwydd.” 

A blank look. I sighed. 

“In the kingdom of Telurin. Ruled by King Arlan.”

Still no response. 

“Those mean nothing to you?”

“No, sir.”

Well in that case she wasn’t likely to have been sent by anyone to prophesy my success or failure, yet I was no closer to understanding what was going on.

She had no more heard of the kingdom of Telurin or king Arlan than I had heard of a place called Fishers or New Haven. Those names seemed to me to indicate a seaside home for the girl, yet she claimed they were inland and she had never even seen the sea.

There was nowhere for her to go but with me—for a time. There might be someone in the next town that could take charge of her, though what I could afford to bargain for her keep I had no idea. Mayhap the Kirik would help a lost girl… I kept my worries to myself, except I did tell her the part about looking for the Kirik at the nearest town. Tiffany agreed to go with me, but at the suggestion of the Kirik she looked puzzled. “Who’s Kirk?”

“Not ‘who,’ lass. ‘What.’ Have you never been?”

She didn’t seem like a heathen, but you never know. I helped her mount, which was necessary even though she actually had ridden before, for Riastrad was no child-sized pony. It was only after I mounted behind and we set off that she asked any more questions.

“So. What is the Kirk?”

“Kirik,” I corrected absently, but other than that I found myself ill-equipped to give a helpful answer. “You ought to ask one of the Elders when we get there.”

“Elders? Is it like a church?”

I rolled the word around in my mind. It wasn’t too dissimilar. It may have been that her accent was the cause of confusion— or rather, mine was. 

She interrupted my thoughts. “Do they teach about God there?” 

“Yes,” I said slowly. “The God of All. Maker of the world and everything in it.” 

She relaxed. “Well, that’s all right then.”

There was something comforting about the fact that He was familiar to her, which was odd considering the fact that I had my own questions about the God of All. 

“Where were you going when you found me?” She asked.

“Does it matter? You probably wouldn’t recognize the place.”

“Oh kay why were you traveling?”

By her tone I gathered that “Oh kay” meant “all right” or something similar. Another oddity in her speech, which I dismissed without comment. The land from whence she came seemed backwards enough to me already without me learning any more about it.

“So many questions. And it still doesn’t really matter, because you’re not coming along. It’s too dangerous.”

She sat in silence for a time, which at first I thought was a miracle in itself; then I began to worry I’d been too harsh and thought I ought to explain. 

“It’s nothing anyone can help with. I have to kill a dragon, and it’s not—“

“A dragon?” She sat straighter in the saddle. “Those are real?”

I let out a breath. “Of course they’re real, and for some reason I was chosen to stop this one from terrorizing the countryside. So you see my problem.”

“That’s awes—-I mean that’s going to be hard.”

“Hard? It’s impossible. Don’t they have dragons where you come from, lass?”

“Where I come from they’re a myth.”

The idea of something so terribly real being thought of as a mere myth gave me a strange feeling, like someone doubting the sun or the wind if they lived too much indoors.

She shivered a little, whether from the cold (my cloak was still too damp to be of much use in keeping her warm) or from sudden fear I couldn’t tell.

“Next you’ll be telling me it’s always warm where you come from, and that’s why you’re dressed like this without even a cloak to warm you” I said.

Her shoulders shook with sudden laughter. “It’s not always warm, but it was summertime when I woke up this morning. ”

Utter nonsense. I urged Riastrad into a canter as soon as the way through the wood was clear enough, more than eager to hand off my charge to someone else.

The journey to Carranburn didn’t take long, and finding the Kirik was easier still. I spotted it’s tower before we entered the town proper. 

We were met at the door by an elder of middling age, with silvering hair. He took one look at us, beamed, and said “We’ve been expecting you.”

c>={====>

A prophecy. About us. What utter nonsense. Over the late supper of bread and wine that was provided for us, Elder Donn, the one who welcomed us, told us of a dream he had a few years ago about a great red dragon destroying everything in it’s wake. At first banishing the idea as nothing more than too rich of a supper before bed, he nevertheless could not forget it and so told Father Beithe, the priest. Six months ago, when the rumors of a dragon in the southern foothills of the Dubhach Mountains first came, and he remembered that dream, he had another. This one involved a knight bearing the device of a white stag, leaping as though it would come off of his shield and come to life. 

“And we knew that must be you. There are no others left that bear that device. We knew the King would choose you before he did.”

He went on to explain how shortly after that, he and the priest both had a dream on the same night.

A girl with flowers in her hair, carrying a mysterious white light to match my white stag, and me, carrying a shining lance instead of my sword.

“It must be the Duraidd lance!” Elder Donn exclaimed. His face shone in the soft lamplight. 

“Now that is ridiculous. I don’t have any lance with me, let alone that one, and I would not bring a child along. I’ll not risk her safety on the basis of a dream.”

Elder Donn cocked his head to the side as though considering, then said, “Three dreams.”

He seemed at least as ignorant of the dangers of dragons as Tiffany. “I wouldn’t bring her if you’d had a hundred!” 

Tiffany cleared her throat. “What’s the Duraidd lance?

I started to say it was a legend, but Elder Donn had a different idea.

“It’s the lance used by Sir Rioghan, the knight that handled the last dragon who attacked Telurin.”

The elder nodded to me. ‘His ancestor.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened as she looked at me.

I clenched my jaw. Whether or not the whole story of the defeat of the great Breunachd was true, my great great grandfather had died from his wounds. His lance, if it still existed, would do me little good. Hoping against hope, I still wanted a way out of this alive.

“It’s said to be displayed in the Kirik of Kynvan, where the dragon’s defeat took place.”

The town was conveniently in my path. I wondered whether Elder Donn knew? 

“I cannot bring her along,” I tried again. “Even if the lance is there, it would not guarantee success, and I cannot be responsible for her safety and defeat the beast at the same time. My duty to the king must be my first priority.”

“You would abandon her here?” 

Abandon her? That wasn’t fair. “You would refuse to shelter her?”

“Certainly not. If it’s shelter she wants, she could find it here.”

Elder Donn looked to Tiffany, who gave a quick shake of her head.

“I would understand your hesitation if we were asking you to take her to the dragon’s lair, but we are not,” Elder Donn continued. “Nor are we asking you to take full responsibility of her. I myself planned to accompany you as far as she does.”

I frowned. Why would she not want shelter?

Then I turned to her, a horrible idea growing in my mind. During the whole tale from Elder Donn she had sat, wide eyed, not interrupting once. At first I thought it a matter of manners, but that she surely shared my skepticism. Now I wondered. “Do not tell me you believe you should come along!”

Tiffany shrugged. “I don’t see that I can get home by staying here.”

Unspoken was the thought that she had been called here for a purpose, but Elder Donn was thinking it I was sure. They shared a glance between them, and I gave up, outnumbered. I threw my hands in the air in surrender. “You can travel with me as far as the kirik of Kynvan. We can see if the lance is even there, since the town is in my path anyway, but I won’t promise anything beyond that.”

Tiffany brightened at this, where I had hoped she would recognize the seriousness of the situation. She seemed to put more stock in these dreams than I.

c>={====>

The girl is younger than they usually are when they come here, these Travellers from other worlds. The last one was a boy, not too much older than she is now--at least the first time he came. He was one of the few who returned, and it's how one of my theories about the Travellers was proven accurate: time flows differently between worlds. He visited once as a young man, and then, scarcely a year after he had returned to his own world having helped rescue the missing lady Elowyn, he returned years older. Others had been reported to have returned without such vast difference in time. Once with no discernible variance at all. Truly there is no predicting it. The one constant in our records is the mysterious wind, where previously there had been none.

Back to the girl. She calls herself Tiffany. An ekename for Theophania, but when I called her Theophania she looked at me with an utterly bemused expression.

Unlike the last one, she does not need to be convinced of the seriousness of the situation. She expresses no surprise about this being a different world than hers. The God of All rules them both. Listening to her, I ponder for the first time if these two are the only worlds after all. There could be so many, and we have no way of knowing if our infrequent visitors all come from the same one. I make a mental note to look through our chronicler's writings for clues. She has sparked some curiosity in me, Tiffany has. Moreover, she knows not only of the God of All, but of his Son, our Lord and Savior, and his death and resurrection. She knows it all, yet the scriptures say he died but once. How then could it be the same in her world as it is here? Ah, further musings to take to Father Beithe. He shares my curiosity of this other world and the awesome workings of the God of All.

I have told them both what I know. Sir Uriah, the last knight of House Rioghan is at least as skeptical as he is courageous. I expected Tiffany to be the one to be convinced, but the only doubt she has is what this mysterious light could be. I haven't the faintest idea. It is true that I do not even know if the light is to be taken literally. She persists in questioning, and all I can tell her is that it was pure white, more like to a star than the glow of a candle or lantern.

In a collection of garments donated for the poor, I found a serviceable dress for Tiffany as well as a cloak. (Not only will her short tunic and trousers not be warm enough in this weather, none of us want to attract any undue attention and her odd clothing would certainly mark her as a Traveller.) It was only an old woolen dress, of a pale, faded green color, but she was delighted, and put it on over her own clothes and twirled as though it was the finest thing she had ever worn. It even brought a smile to Sir Uriah’s face, though he quickly smothered it. I suspect he does not want to show any sort of approval lest it be taken for encouragement of our plans. He has not taken to the idea of bringing Tiffany so close to danger. I myself would be inclined to send her in the opposite direction if not for the dreams and the certainty that she is meant to accompany him as far as the kirik of Kynvan. Further than that I cannot tell. 

Ah, I must put away this chronicle and get some rest. The kirik of Kynvan is roughly a day’s journey from here. We leave with the dawn. 

c>={====>

The morning was shrouded in a gloomy fog as we left the kirik. Elder Donn rode a mule, with Tiffany perched on a shaggy pony belonging to one of the inhabitants of the village but which was often lent to the kirik at need. 

I was glad they weren’t coming all the way to the Dubhach mountains. If we had to ride hard away from an attack of dragon fire I wouldn’t give a fig for either of their chances.

The gloom had no effect on Tiffany, who prodded Elder Donn for information about the other Travellers he had mentioned to her the night before. I had little to do but listen as she mentioned the stories she had read of similar Travellers. And Elder Donn’s interest as she mentioned one in particular that compared history to a great tree with branches that spread out and went different directions but were rooted in the same place.

“These stories... If you likened history to a tree, with creation as the roots and the crucifixion and resurrection of our Lord as the place where the branches begin to spread, and each branch spread into a different world, it could explain how there could be more than one, and yet would mean Christ died but once as the scriptures say. Extraordinary. It might account for some similarities we’ve noted between worlds. Is something like this possible, do you think?”

Tiffany shrugged. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t explain everything. I liked the sound of it though.”

“But It was not a true story, you say?”

“No,” Tiffany said, “but it got me thinking about it. I guess I’m not the only one that hoped the stories of other worlds could be true.”

“You mean to say none of the tales in your world about other worlds have documented facts?”

“They’re all stories.” She shrugged. “In books. I don’t know of anything like your records. But I do know if I went home and told people about what’s happened here they’d think I was playing a game, or went mad, or hit my head and dreamed it all up. Especially if I mentioned a dragon. So I might be cautious about making a record when I go home.”

“Ahh. Unless you shape it as a story or a dream.” Elder Donn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I believe I see your point.”

Once again, that strange feeling washed over me. Only this time it carried a subtle shift in my perspective. Of course I knew dragons were real, and they were not less real for the fact that she had never met one. I had never met one personally either, but I had evidence that they existed. If her world was as full of doubt as she made it sound, then even such evidence as I had—stories passed down from people who had seen them firsthand, the blackened stones and rubble of Westmore Castle which had never been rebuilt after Breunachd’s attack—would perhaps not suffice. Fires could come from other things than dragon attacks, after all. On the other hand, how was it then that Tiffany was the one who had no trouble believing that the God of All had sent her here for a purpose?

Lost in these thoughts, I paid less attention to their conversation about the nature of time between worlds. They were quite a pair. Maybe the God of All had actually sent her to keep Elder Donn company and offer new information for his scribblings.

As the morning wore away, the fog turned to mist and the mist turned to gold before disappearing entirely. 

When we stopped for our noon meal, there was a break in the chatter. Elder Donn brought out some dry traveller’s loaves and hard cheese from the bundles he’d so carefully packed that morning. Tiffany tore her bread in half and stacked the cheese between the two pieces before eating. An unusual custom, which I chose not to inquire about. Elder Donn was another matter, but I paid little heed again as I started to think more seriously about how to convince the others to let me go on alone to the Dubhach mountains, whatever we found in Kynvan.

After our meal we were back to the road.

The wooded country that had opened up around Carranburn, cleared for farmsteads, again gave way to a land where great trees sprang up and the road was darkened by overhanging branches still full of leaves that had not yet fallen. Tiffany’s chatter did not resume for some time, and when it did it was a question directed at me.

“If it was your ancestor who killed the last dragon with the Duraidd lance, why is it displayed somewhere else? Why don’t you have it?”

Of all the questions I should have expected this one. 

“My grandfather’s grandfather died soon after the dragon Breunachd did, for the burns he was given by the beast never healed despite the kingdom’s finest healer tending them herself. He was buried there at the Kirik. It was said that his lance somehow survived the flames and was buried in a tomb with him, but that part of the tale is too uncertain.”

“He must’ve been pretty strong,” Tiffany remarked. “To joust with a dragon, I mean.”

There she went again, with words that made no sense. To join it in single combat was of course the very thing I was supposed to do. It puzzled even Elder Donn.

“They say he threw it at Breunachd's open mouth, and it lodged so deep in the beast's throat that it could not be removed until he was dead,” he ventured to say, “yet somehow the shaft was not burned to ash even in Breunachd’s death throes.”

“That was one of the versions I have heard,” I added. “Which is why I say it’s uncertain. It makes no sense.”

“How could he have thrown it?” Tiffany frowned. “A lance is for jousting.”

“For… joining in battle… yes.”

At which point we both accepted that we were not going to understand one another, as an awkward silence followed.

Personally I always thought the story of the lance’s survival was too far fetched, but people love a legend and Sir Rioghan dying so soon after the beast meant the legend needed a bit of help to ease the retelling. Not that the miraculous survival of a piece of wood and metal made it that much better. If it had survived, which was in some doubt. 

“What were the other versions you heard?” Elder Donn asked.

“The way my grandfather told it, the lance did lodge in Breunachd’s throat, but its jaws clamped down on the shaft and combined with the flames the wood was consumed. The sharp metal head worked its way deeper into the flesh and the beast died in a great mass of blood and flame.”

I expected—hoped for— a grimace from Tiffany at the description. Let her realize this wasn’t a nice, safe quest. When I glanced her way, however, she looked as calm as before. 

“Of course my grandfather wasn’t there,” I continued, “but he says his father was old enough to travel to Kynvan with my great great grandmother to see Sir Rioghan before he died. Now my cousin remembers the tale a little differently: he remembers hearing that the flames traveled the length of the shaft until it glowed too hot to hold but did not burn. Yet the process of working it free from the dragon’s corpse bent the metal into something unusable. Goodness knows how there are so many different versions of the story. If it ever was displayed at the Kirik, I expect we will not find the shining lance you saw in your dream.”

“Is that why you don’t believe in the dreams?” Tiffany asked. 

“The why, lass, is more complicated than that. If I saw some sign of the dreams being anything other than—what did you call it, Elder? Too rich a supper before bed?— I might change my mind.”

“I’m here,” Tiffany narrowed her eyes. “Or do you still think I’m from your world and not another?”

Caught, neatly as an animal in a trap. If I said I didn’t believe she came from another world, it was as good as calling her a liar. If I said she did come from another world, I had little basis for believing that and not the rest of the dreams. 

It was as if they read my thoughts. Elder Donn chuckled and an impish grin spread across Tiffany’s face. 

“There are only three possibilities, you know.”

“Three?”

“Well, yes. I could be lying, or mad, or telling the truth.”

Odd as she sometimes seemed, madness was something I’d stopped considering long ago. “I did think at first you had hit your head,” I admitted, “but there’s no evidence of that. I checked, and you didn’t have a head wound. And since then you have been as sane as I.”

That got a smile out of Elder Donn and a giggle out of her. “Only since then?”

I decided not to tell her about thinking of the wood nymph that supposedly appeared to King Talvar. That might not persuade her of my own sanity, if she knew I had seriously considered it.

“I will grant you that you appeared strangely and I do not know from whence. Does that satisfy you?”

“We’ll have to see about the rest then,” she said. 

c>={====>

The first of the refugees came upon us while we were still several leagues from Kynvan. A couple with a young child in her mother’s arms, fleeing with very little more than the clothes on their backs. They did not stop to explain, they scarce acknowledged us at all, even at Elder Donn’s benediction. Shock was written in every line on their faces. 

I heard Elder Donn murmur a prayer for them after they passed. 

More families, trickled past us, then groups of families, bringing rumors of fires and collapsed buildings and a challenge from a monster. Finally an old woman who seemed to be attached to no one finally took notice of us.

“You should turn the other way, Sir Knight, Elder.” She bobbed her head at each of us in turn. “If not for your sake, then for the girl. This Namhaid is not content to stay in his lair.”

I was going to say that I agreed, Elder Donn and Tiffany should turn back, but Tiffany sat straight up in her saddle. 

“He can’t turn back, and I’m not going to. The king chose him to defeat the dragon.”

“What do you mean Namhaid?” Elder Donn broke in.

“That’s what the beast calls himself!” The woman said. “He came, destroyed the Kirik with one blast of fire and a sweep of his great tail, thick as a cedar, and boasted that no one could stand against him. Then he snatched up a maiden and flew back to his lair! But he’ll be back. The sensible ones of us have fled.”

Then the woman was gone, swept along in the tide of people fleeing. 

The tide slowed after a time, and all the while I was trying to think of something to say that would convince Elder Donn and Tiffany to flee with them. I could claim to believe the lance would be there, in the rubble of the kirik, I could claim to believe Tiffany had helped enlighten me and given me courage, that the light of Elder Donn’s dream must therefore be symbolic. 

No, tempting as it was I wouldn’t lie to her.

May she find her way home. Now this one was a prayer. If you’re there, may she find her way home. And Elder Donn as well. Why should they be caught up in this with me?

“The dragon is not there now,” Tiffany said. “I know you’re still trying to get us to leave you, but I think we should go to the kirik at least.”

It was rather annoying to have her guess so much of my thoughts. 

“It was destroyed,” I said. “You heard the woman.”

“I promise if we don’t find anything there I’ll give up, but I can’t go back without us even trying. If we find a way for me to get home before then, I’ll go back without arguing.”

That seemed like an easy way to get her to go back, in a way. Still, I had my doubts. “Even this is a lot of risk.” I looked to Elder Donn. “What do you think? We don’t know when the dragon will return.”

“We don’t know that it will be today,” Elder Donn replied. “As it is, it is getting dark. There will be shelter in town.”

Caught betwixt warring responsibilities. It was getting dark, and upon realizing that, I was ill at ease sending them back along the road so late in the evening even with the fleeing townsfolk. A panic stricken group seemed like little protection from other dangers that might lurk, dragon or no. 

I agreed. 

It was not yet full dark when we reached the town of Kynvan. An air of melancholy hung over the place. It became apparent that not everyone had left or even planned to leave. Some were obviously stragglers, still loading possessions into carts, but others seemingly had no intent to move on, others still appeared to have been wounded in the dragon’s attack and might have left if they could have. 

All around I saw scorched buildings and scorched people, with burns and bandages aplenty. A chill wind was blowing the smoke away westward. Tiffany shivered and pulled her russet cloak tighter around her. 

We had to find the Kirik, or what was left of it. Then we had to find somewhere to shelter for the night so I could send Tiffany and Elder Donn back  in the morning with a clear conscience. 

c>={====>

The main stone building of the kirik had partially collapsed with half of the roof caved in. There was no way I would allow either of them to explore the rubble, and yet if we did not try I could not hope to convince Tiffany to go back with the Elder in the morning. The half that was still standing stood dark and forbidding, with broken glass from the windows scattered along the ground and glinting with the last of the light from the setting sun. 

“We should try in the morning,” Elder Donn said. “It’s sure we won’t find it in the dark.”

"Wait!" Tiffany exclaimed. “Light!”

Then, without explaining further,  rummaged in the folds of her clothes again and pulled that small black rectangle out. She did something to it, tapping the broad flat center rapidly, muttering about a battery and some nonsense about it having some life left except for service in cells, which she said was dead. The words she used were familiar, yet utterly severed from any meaning that I knew. 

“There,” she said proudly, holding it aloft. “Will this help?”

A bright white light streamed from the top and even I felt something stir as I thought of the white light of Elder Donn’s dream--though I also winced away from the brightness that made spots dance in my vision. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think it would be that bright. It’s not, usually.” Her brow furrowed. "I don't think so, anyway."

“All along you had this?” Elder Donn said, wonder in his voice. 

“Well, yes, but I didn’t need it till now,” Tiffany replied. “The candles at the kirik were nicer. Can we look for it now?”

I could hardly tear my eyes away from the light, even as it stung my eyes. Far better than a torch would be.

"May I?"

Tiffany shrugged and handed it over. My understanding of it was no better, but at least it was not as though the light was sorcery that required her touch and hers alone. She even showed me what she did to banish the light and command it back again. 

I showed it to Elder Donn, who stood transfixed for a moment before confirming what I suspected.

"This is the light from my dream. I am sure of it." 

And I believed him. It perplexed me, this certainty. I was still no closer to allowing Tiffany or the elder to explore the rubble, but I was now actually considering what I might find if I was to search for my great grandfather's lance. 

"This?" Tiffany was incredulous. "But this is just..." 

She stopped. "Oh, Kay, so this is the light. That doesn't mean I can just go back, even if I did know how. You can't keep my phone, I have to stay till you're done with it at least."

I smiled. Without my even trying, she was speaking of going home. Perfect. Though she had a point, we still did not know how to send her home. 

"We will speak of this in the morning," I said. "For now, If you will permit me to borrow your light,  I will see what can be seen. The ruins may be unstable, and dream come true or not, I do not see that you should be the one to explore them. T'will be a miracle if anything can be found though."

I did not explain to her that I was the closest I had ever been to believing in miracles.

It was a bare quarter of an hour before I returned, bearing only the strange black rectangle but no lance. In that time dusk had crept silently over the town. Most of the fires were out, and the only people out in the open were those still fighting the flames. 

"I saw something that might have been it," I said in answer to my companions' visible disappointment, "but could not reach it, with one hand holding the light. Tis half buried in a crevice formed by a collapsed wall." 

Tiffany beamed. "You need someone to reach it." 

"Or at least hold the light," I said, casting a wry glance her way. "Are you volunteering then?"

The rest of the building did not appear as though it would collapse further, at any rate. And I had the feeling that time was of the essence. Far better, now that I had seen it was stable, to have us all working together. 

When we reached the crevice, Tiffany held the light while I strained to reach the long thin object I could see. It remained out of reach, for I could extend my arm but not more than that and the lance, if that is what it was, was further away than it had first appeared. The crevice was not wide enough for my head and shoulders. Elder Donn had shorter arms than I did, and less chance of reaching it. That left Tiffany. Her slight figure would possibly be able to get further. I might not be able to hold the light for her, but if she could crawl in where I could not she might be able to hold it in one hand and pull it out with the other. Before I could even weigh the risks and decide if the crevice itself was stable enough to allow it, a great shadow spread out around us, blotting out all other shadows cast by the ruined walls. A rush of wind scattered dead leaves and bracken and even some of the rubble. Then there was a blast of heat and smoke wreathed around us, right before a horrible booming laughter echoed through the stony corridors. 

"What is this? One tough old warrior, encased in a fragile metal shell, one soft kirikman, and the juiciest morsel of all-- I believe I smell a maidchild. Have you come to placate me with the ancient custom of sacrificing the young one? Juicy she may be, but I will require more than that as tribute if you've come to pay your respects."

Tiffany dove into the crevice. I thought--hoped-- she was going to stay there until the danger was past, or better yet I hoped the way had opened for her to return home, but it was not to be: a heartbeat later I heard a grunt and with a heaving gasp she emerged with what might have been the Duraidd lance but was certainly not the shining thing I think Elder Donn had pictured being displayed there. "Here," she gasped. "Looks more like a javelin than a lance to me, but that's what we were seeing."

I didn't have time to sift meaning from her words. 

The dragon, Namhaid, I assumed, had not shown himself yet. Not that I was eager for the sight, but knowing the danger was lurking without being able to see it was even worse. Where would he strike first? I took the lance from Tiffany, which seemed awfully light compared with others I have handled,  and she took back her light. I would have cautioned her against using it, except the beast already knew where we were. Though perhaps I could change that, at least with regards to Tiffany's whereabouts. It looked as though the ancient tales of maidens given as tribute to stop a dragon's rampages might have been true after all. Or at least Namhaid had heard of them, and worse, developed an appetite.

"Lass, listen to me," I spoke in a whisper, hoping I would have time to say all I must, yet hoping also the dragon would not be able to hear. "Listen. You have done your task, and done it well. I am sure the God of All would have you get home, though it does not look like I will be able to see you to safety myself." 

As I spoke, Elder Donn darted to the side with a sharp cry, in time to avoid a massive sweeping claw that sprang out of the darkness between us. I had no time to finish asking Tiffany to go with the elder and find her way to safety. It was all I could do to shield her if possible from that searching claw and another blast of heat and smoke. Most of the wood had been consumed, but something nearby caught fire. A felled beam burned like a torch, illuminating a part of the beast. There was an impression of a serpentine neck, and a flash of jagged teeth as a huge head snapped at the retreating Elder Donn, who was staggering back to us before the flame went out again. 

"Are you hurt?" I put my arm out to steady him. So did Tiffany, and as soon as he regained his balance we made a dash deeper into the kirik. I hoped it would slow Namhaid but that he would not become so frustrated that he lashed out at the walls bringing it down upon us. 

"I am all right," Elder Donn wheezed as we fled. "Hit the ground hard, but the claw missed. 

"That could change if we don't split up," I said. "I want you to take Tiffany and get her deeper into the kirik. Go deep enough, and I don't think his head will fit in there, let alone the rest of him." 

Namhaid could not be in two places at once, and I intended to lead him elsewhere.

"Ah, you do not intend to surrender yet, you want to make this interesting."

At the sound of the monstrous voice I turned around and there he was, a dragon with scales the same red-gold color of the flames he had spouted, grinning and showing all his teeth, lazing right in the path we had just come from like an enormous cat. As if to enhance that image he yawned and stretched before speaking again. 

"By all means, trap yourselves in there. Make yourselves as comfortable as you like with no provisions. Come out when you are hungry, I will be watching every exit and waiting with an appetite that far outstrips your own. Or..." He paused, as if considering. "You could perhaps try running and hiding somewhere else while I hunt for your mounts. A horse, a pony, and a mule would whet my appetite nicely before I move on to delicacies such as yourselves."

I held the lance with a slackened grip, not wanting to draw his attention to it or for him to regard it as a threat. "Tell us, why should we surrender? None of us wish to hasten our deaths. On the other hand, if you were to allow the child to go free, then we could perhaps come to some agreement."

"Agreement?'" His laugh was a roar.  "No one bargains with me, I am Namhaid.  Death follows in my wake inevitably like night follows day. Your armor may not agree with my digestion, but neither will it save you. It cannot stop my claws or my teeth, let alone my flame." 

All the while I was creeping closer, hoping Tiffany and the Elder had long since disappeared into what was left of the kirik. If I could keep him talking, get close enough to ensure a direct hit to his chest, or (like my great great grandfather) his open mouth, then I might still perish but so would the beast.

His huge eye was on me. "Shall I roast you inside of your shell, and claw it off after you burn? Or, hmm.. perhaps I should crush you inside of it? After all, at  times I do prefer my meat fresh." 

With that last word he lashed out at me, and faster than I could blink the sharp smile vanished into a gaping maw. There was no time to think, barely time to aim. I hurled the lance with all my strength, but the beast closed his jaws too soon and it glanced off his teeth with no visible damage to them. I dove to the side just in time to avoid his snapping jaws, but his neck snaked around following me and nearly caught me before jerking away.

At first I didn't understand why he didn't catch me. I thought maybe he was toying with me as before, until his enraged roar sounded and then I saw a chunk of rubble fall to the ground. He shook his head, dislodging another, smaller chunk of rubble from somewhere around his head. He snapped at me again before I even had time to draw my sword, but a bright light struck him right in the eye, which made him rear back with a hiss. Something seemed wrong with that eye. I didn't have long to wonder if that chunk of rubble had hit it, or how vulnerable his eyes were, or who had thrown it. Elder Donn was pulling me out of reach of his teeth.

I ought to have resisted and used the distraction to find the lance, or if nothing else readied my sword, but it was happening so fast and before I knew it a burst of flame covered the ground where I had been standing, as well as a widening circle around it. The lance was gone. The wooden shaft would never have survived those flames. I felt the heat from where I was, and it was doubtful whether even the head would be of any use after that. 

"We have to get to cover," Elder Donn was saying. Tiffany thinks there's an underground space further in, we'll be safe from his fire there. And I think she has an idea." He added this last in before I could protest that I shouldn't be where either of them were. Shouldn't draw the dragon closer to them. 

Before the Duraidd lance had been brought up, my plan (if you could call my despairing lack of any other idea a plan) had been to try and catch the dragon napping and at least spy out any potential weaknesses that way, if nothing else. That wasn't going to happen now. I had to work with what I'd seen thus far. 

As we ducked through one of the doorways that still had an intact roof above it,  I saw that Namhaid had ceased his fiery tantrum for the time being, and was scanning the area, which meant he would be watching for me. Too late to back out now, if I wanted to keep him from discovering where the others had gone. I might as well plan in here as outside.

I was pondering how to use the vulnerability of it's eyes when Elder Donn led me down a set of stairs into a storeroom of some kind. Wooden shelves lined the walls.

"Did you bring him?" Tiffany's whisper came out of the dark, echoing only slightly. It felt like a close space, but didn't sound like one. She didn't wait for an answer before she said, in a wavering voice. "I think I might have found the way home."

As much as I had wanted her to get home, I was unprepared for this. Not that I was having second thoughts, I knew home was the safest place for her and from the moment she had stepped into my care I had chafed at the responsibility, believing as I had that it conflicted with the quest I was on. It was simply so abrupt, and what had been the purpose of the God of All in sending her then? And he had, somehow. I had just begun to be sure of that.

“We don’t know if that was actually the Duraidd lance,” she said. “There’s no way that was a tomb, anyway. So I was exploring down here when I felt a gust of wind from that archway,” she moved her light over a dark arch that looked no different from any other I had seen in the building. The same plain, solid stone. The wall of a tunnel could be seen by the light. Her implication was clear: she believed this was the way home. To me, however, it looked nothing like I would have expected a passage between worlds to look, and everything like an ordinary doorway.

As though sensing my doubt, she added, “it was just like before. The air wasn’t the same as what was around me. It was fresh, and warm; when I came here the first day, the wind I felt was cool and damp when it should have been warm.”

“There is one way to find out,” Elder Donn pointed out.

He likely meant for Tiffany to go through it, but if there was fresh air through that archway it could just as easily lead to the surface—and to the dragon. I would go through it myself before allowing Tiffany to go down that tunnel alone.

I’d hardly completed the thought before something shook the earth and Namhaid’s roar thundered down from somewhere above the beginning of the steps. Stone cracked, and I thought I could see the glow of flames reflecting off the uppermost stone step. The earth shook again and this time there was no mistaking it. Namhaid knew where we were.

I didn’t think twice about my decision. I simply stepped through, pulling Tiffany and the Elder along with me.

c>={====>

The wind gusted as we stepped through the archway, and swirled around us. Bright sunshine overwhelmed my senses, followed by the colors, sounds, and smells of a festival day. There was almost everything I would have expected to see from the fair Tiffany had mentioned coming from, and then some things I ought to have expected, considering this was not the same world as my own. Not a few of the folk who wandered about were attired in the same short tunics and rough blue trousers that Tiffany had first arrived in. Many were in stranger garb than that, though there were also many who were in garments more familiar to me.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, so bright compared with the underground passage from whence we had come, Tiffany motioned us forward. "Follow me," she said. "If we don't stick together, who knows what could happen." 

"Tis marvelous," Elder Donn said.

"You haven't seen the half of it," Tiffany muttered. "No time now, follow me."

And we did. I could take in the sights just as easily walking as standing still. We nearly got separated as a group of children with painted faces wandered between us, but Tiffany noticed and held back until they had passed. 

“Do you know where you are going?” I asked when we could join her again.

“Sure do. I was there this morning, my time.”

She wove determinedly through the crowds. It was all we could do to keep up.

“Are you going to tell us?” Elder Donn panted. He should have saved his breath, as Tiffany did not answer. Not until we were standing by a traveling blacksmith, giving a demonstration to a crowd of people in outlandish garb. I noticed one girl a little younger than Tiffany with a cloak that had a pin shaped like a lion’s head, a knife at her belt, and a small glass phial at her side. With her there was a young man with the horns of a goat sprouting from his curly head. 

“Wait here a minute,” Tiffany said. “I need to check something.”

I objected to this, but she was already gone.

“Cool costumes,” the goat-man said. He nodded to my sword. “Looks authentic. Surprised they didn’t make you peace tie it.”

There didn’t seem to be a suitable response, though he seemed pleasant enough. I inclined my head to show I’d heard him, and glanced to Elder Donn, who shrugged back helplessly. The goat-man had already turned back to watch the smith, and that’s when Tiffany returned in a breathless rush. “Come on.”

 She towed us away. 

“Where are we going?” 

“We’re going to get you a weapon.”

We ducked around and off to the side of the area where the smith was working. There were many people here as well, but all had their eyes fixed on the tournament that was taking place. Knights with strange names were being announced. They were taking their places, with lances much longer and heavier looking than ones I was used to. From my vantage point, I could not read the devices on their shields, but their colors were easily seen. The more so because their steeds were fully caparisoned. One with the tinctures of azure and argent, the other with or and sable. I watched as they charged one another but Tiffany pulled my attention away before I could see the results.

“We need to get closer. The weapons are all going to be down there.”

She nodded to a rack sitting fairly near the tent of a lord and lady. The lady had given her favor to the knight in azure and argent. 

The crowd cheered at something, but I never saw what. We moved to the weapons rack, all of us by unspoken agreement moving and speaking quietly so as not to draw undue attention.

“If you could choose any of these to fight the dragon, which would you take?”

This was her plan? 

“I can’t simply take a weapon that doesn’t belong to me, lass. I’ll not turn thief even in such dire straits.”

Tiffany sighed. “I thought you might say that. Listen, I guarantee you if they knew what it was for no one would stop you. If you could convince them you weren’t a lunatic, I mean. Which is why we can’t stop to try. We don’t know how time is passing while we’re here.”

I didn’t have time to parse her words before she added, “Anyway we’re not stealing it, we’re borrowing it. 

“Borrowing it without permission.”

“But with every intention of bringing it back.”

Her smile was bright. She assumed it would be possible.

“I think,” I said slowly, not sure how to let her down, “that they would mind very much if one of these weapons was incinerated beyond repair.”

“I plan on returning it in working order,” she said with a grin. “I have another idea. But I can’t really explain it, you’ll just have to trust me.”

‘You are not coming back with me, Theophania. I mean it. It’s too dangerous. Elder, tell her. Please.” I turned a pleading look to Elder Donn, who was looking at the weaponry. He was touching a lance that was much more like what I was accustomed to, the sharp head of which was polished to a shine. It was a thing of beauty, surely a weapon for a hero like my great great grandfather had been.

“This is the one. Take it, Sir Uriah. Take this one. If you doubt you can return it, I will leave the price of it in its place.” He pulled out his money pouch and opened it to reveal several silver pennies. 

I hesitated. There was an odd note to his voice. He was like one who walks in his sleep and speaks of what he sees.

Tiffany peered at the coins. “That’s probably way more than enough,” she said. “Is that real silver?”

Elder Donn ignored the question, but the odd tone in his voice was gone when he said, “this is the one I saw in my dream. If I leave the price of a good weapon so that it could be replaced if needed, will you accept it?”

I hesitated. Trusting a dream weapon, untested, made about as much sense as trusting the one we had found at the kirik, and look how that had turned out? 

“You’ve seen my world,” Tiffany said. “You have to believe it now.”

“Believe what?”

“That Someone Else was in charge of bringing me to your world. Someone who’s bigger than both.”

I already believed the God of All had sent her. When that had changed, I could not have said. Another denial leapt ready to my tongue, but I wavered. Trust in the lance was not what she was asking of me.

“Please,” Tiffany said. “I don’t know how much time we have!”

She could be right about the time, and with no way of knowing what was happening back home I made another swift decision.

“I will repay you if I can, Elder, but yes. I will take it. Tiffany, if you will show me the way back, I believe your part in this is done.”

Tiffany grinned. “We’ll see.”

At my request, Elder Donn left the entire pouch, despite Tiffany’s protestations that it “really was more than enough.” I would far rather pay double it’s worth if possible since I was unable to give the warrior to whom it belonged the courtesy of a request.

On the way back, she bade us wait by the smithy again. “Just for a minute,” she said. “Don’t move.”

Well, it wasn’t like we had a choice. 

When she was gone, Elder Donn said in a low murmur “I will help you persuade her to stay. I believe you are right that her part is done. Surely with both of us in agreement she cannot argue. ” 

That was a relief, that I would not have to argue with the two of them. “Thank you, Elder.”

The wait was indeed brief, then she returned carrying something in both arms, wrapped in the folds of her cloak that I could not see, save for a flash of bright scarlet.

After that she plowed through the crowds, and I had little time to wonder about her plan before we made it back to the place we had entered. A different arch, she said, than she had come from. How then did we know it would let us through? I supposed we had no choice but to try.

I stepped closer and a gentle wind swirled past me, around me, as though beckoning. It was just as before. I relaxed and turned to say farewell to Tiffany, and saw the wind tugging at her cloak as well. She clutched the object she was holding tighter to her and dashed through the arch before I could say a word. I reached out to stop her, but when the wind gusted again all I caught was the hem of her cloak. Elder Donn caught hold of me, but we were all pulled through the archway. The wind died abruptly, along with the noise from the faire and the light from a summer day. It was pitch black, and colder, but stuffy. We were back under the kirik.

Elder Donn sniffed the air. “Something is burning.”

No sooner had he said this than something fell above us with a crash. A glow of fire illuminated the wall of stone and revealed the same stairway we had descended earlier, before traveling to Tiffany’s world. The entrance had been enlarged, now rubble covered the steps.

As much as I had hoped we had not returned to the exact same place, we had. And it seemed we were trapped. Unless…

Tiffany shone her light around the room. Behind us, the tunnel which had been a doorway to another world now doubtless led elsewhere, even though it looked the same. Perhaps deeper under the kirik. Perhaps up to the surface. I would have rather been able to find out where it led before sending them into it, but there was no time.

“Elder, take Tiffany down that tunnel.”

Elder Donn gave a single nod. I more than half expected Tiffany to protest, and she did open her mouth to say something, but another crash and burst of flame interrupted her. The earth shook again and something fell down the stairs with a crack.

“Go on,” I said. “If the God of All wills it, I will follow.”

“I’m counting on it, but just in case.”

She set down her bundle and wrapped her arms around my waist.

Then before I could react she picked up her bundle and followed Elder Donn through the archway.  I gripped the lance and turned to face the fire. 

If the God of All wills it. I had spoken confidently, but the more I thought about my last attempt the more I realized I would have to let Namhaid get a lot closer before I tried another throw. Or would even that work? As the glow of fire faded and Namhaid still did not appear, I realized I had no guarantee of enough light to see by. Tiffany’s light would be useful right now.

The next sound I heard was not a crash, but a rumbling laugh.

“Little warrior, I thought you had hidden. How delightful. Do you think you can stand against me?”

The reflection of flame on the walls had dimmed, but it was enough to see the serpentine shape creeping down through the doorway.

If I could keep him talking, I might stand a chance. 

“How could I hope to hide from a powerful creature such as yourself? You would have caught my scent. No, it is better for me to face reality, come what may.” 

I edged towards the wall. How keen is a dragon’s night vision?

There was a hiss, and a burst of flame. One of the shelves caught fire and suddenly I didn’t have to worry about light anymore.

Namhaid stretched himself to his full height. By the firelight I could see the armored scales glittering all along his lithe body. Even his chest, though not armored exactly like the rest of him, had a thick, knobby hide. A shot from a ballista might be able to pierce that hide, but not a throw from me.

“Face reality?” Namhaid fairly purred. “Face your death, you mean. Yes, do take a good look at me. That twig you carry will burn as easily as the last one.”

I took another step, but forward this time. “Truly, on my own I have no hope of assailing you. If I ever believed it was possible I would not be so foolish now.” 

And yet here I was. Closer, closer.

“You flatter me. What do you hope to gain by it? Not your life, surely. Nor that of the kirikman, or the little maiden. Where are they? Did they leave you to face your death alone?”

“He’s not alone.”

Elder Donn’s voice was accompanied by the brightest light from Tiffany’s device we had yet seen. Namhaid hissed and reared his head away from the light. He opened his jaws. Any moment he would let loose a burst of flame… I had to stop him. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for, except now he writhed too far away and remained in motion. One throw was all I would have, and I was sure Namhaid knew it, the way he moved. Now his tail flashed around, narrowly missing me. Now his wings. Still the light shone brighter, and the beast arced his head up in the air. The flames reached to the ceiling, but as he began to direct them toward us, something white and foamy shot directly into his mouth. I had not noticed Tiffany creeping from the mouth of the tunnel, but the white foam sprayed from the scarlet cylinder she carried. So that was the contraption she had brought from her world. 

Namhaid retched and spewed foam but no flames followed. 

He roared and lashed out, but she jumped back out of reach.

“Tiffany! To me!”

She ran to me, still holding that scarlet cylinder, and Namhaid’s eyes turned to us.

Aim for the eyes? Or try for the open mouth again?

I wished Elder Donn had seen more in his dream. Where was he? I had lost track of him after Tiffany reappeared.

“No more games, little warrior,” Namhaid rasped. “Lay down your weapons, and I will kill you quickly and that is the best you can hope for.”

If he could have roasted us, I was sure he would have by now. I felt the smallest spark of hope rekindle, but still I could not be secure in my aim with such a small target as his eyes, and he still did not open his mouth wide enough for me to aim down his throat.

I was not about to lower my weapons, but Tiffany caught me off guard when she laughed outright. 

“I always wondered if a fire extinguisher would work on a dragon’s fire. It looks like it did. No one at home will believe me though, and that’s a pity.”

If she meant to provoke the dragon it worked. With a roar he leapt at us, jaws wide as though to swallow us whole, or perhaps I’d been wrong about his fire. I took my chance—God of All, guide my aim!—and hurled the lance with all my strength straight into his open mouth. At the same moment Tiffany let loose another stream of foam. I leapt back, dragging Tiffany with me, as his jaws crashed into the place we had been moments before, driving the lance further in. 

Namhaid did not move again. 

The blade had struck home, and the strength of my throw had been aided by the sheer force and impetuosity of his own attack: between the two, the lance was lodged deep in his head, and now blood pooled from his nostrils instead of the smoke that had so recently been there. I felt an impulse to shield Tiffany from the sight, but she had already turned away and was running to Elder Donn, who we could barely see by the light of the smoldering shelf. He was crawling awkwardly towards Tiffany’s device, which was askew on the ground at a distance from him. The bright light was gone.

“Are you all right?” She asked. “What happened?”

“His tail. Knocked it right out.”

Somewhere in Namhaid’s thrashing when faced with the light, his tail had crashed into the device, knocking it neatly from Elder Donn’s hand. He cradled his wrist as he went on to explain how he had dropped to the ground to avoid that tail knocking his head.

“I fear ‘tis broken,” he said. Then flexed his wrist and winced..

“If it was broken, you couldn’t do that,” I pointed out. “Does it hurt much? It could be sprained.”

“Not this,” Elder Donn said, muffling a laugh. “This stings a bit. I meant the light. It went out when I lost my grip.”

Tiffany hugged him. “That doesn’t matter. You’re safe. I saw you go down and I was worried.”

“Speaking of worried…” I raised my eyebrows at her.  The effect may have been lost in the gloom of the fading fire, for she grinned up at me and then scampered to get her device. 

The light worked just fine, belying Elder Donn’s concern. 

“You should get the lance out while I still have some battery life left,” she said. “That light was really bright, I bet it used a lot and I don’t have a way to charge it.”

Battery life? Charge it? The device had been battered, certainly, but nothing else she said made sense.“You’re speaking nonsense again, young lady.”

But she was already away, the light bobbing a little as she strode towards the dragon’s body. 

“Eugh, it’s going to be a mess. We’re gonna have to clean it really well before we can return it, if that’s what you still want to do.”

“Stop changing the subject.” But she did have a point, that there was no need to continue on down here. I went over and tried pulling out the lance. It was wedged in tightly, and there was little room to brace myself to pull, but in the end I managed it. She was right again; it was a mess, and now so was I.

“There’s a well up above ground,” Tiffany said. “We can clean you up there.”

We picked our way over the rubble from the dragon’s rage, and ascended the stairs. The smell of smoke was still on the wind, but the  majority of the fires had been extinguished. 

I had been about to return to the subject of her putting herself into danger by returning to face Namhaid instead of fleeing with Elder Donn as I had ordered, but the approach of a group of townsfolk, armed with scythes and staves and the like, took priority. At their head was a sturdily built older man in robes much like Elder Donn’s, who carried a large pike of the kind that stopped cavalry charges when men stood together in formation with them. 

Upon seeing us emerge, the elder slackened his grip on his pike and rested on it as he might on a staff. 

“You’re alive! We saw the beast descend after you and feared the worst.” He took in the mess on the lance and on myself. “The dragon?”

“The beast is dead,” Elder Donn said in a clear ringing voice so as to be heard by the entire group. “Slain by Sir Uriah, an instrument of the God of All, aided by a traveler sent by Him between worlds.

Within moments, it seemed the whole town knew. More had stayed than I realized, and many came to thank us. Tiffany looked abashed at the praise they heaped on her. I myself tried to direct more of it away from me and towards the others, (as Elder Donn had taken none of his due credit,) and to the God of All, who had been the guiding hand behind all our success. At some point messengers were sent out to try and catch up to those who had fled to let them know it was safe to return. 

They feasted us that evening; a greater celebration surely had not been seen in that town since my grandfather’s grandfather had slain Breunachd. More so since none of us were greatly injured. One of those who had stayed was a healer, who was able to look at Elder Donn’s wrist, which had started to swell, and wrap it with a poultice of knitbone. A light sprain, possibly, which would keep him from chronicling our adventures for a time. (Thus I consented to write my part in it in full as the reader can see, lest anyone forget the true story.) Tiffany and I had escaped unscathed, thanks be to the God of All. 

Our mounts had not strayed far. Even in his fright Riastrad would not have run all the way home to his stable, the mule had enough sense to flee only until the danger was past, and the pony had stuck by them. 

Housing for the night was easily arranged, but it was late before we were away to our beds. Many plans had to be made. My duty was to return to the king straight away, and I intended for Elder Donn and Tiffany both to accompany me. We would stop at the kirik of Carranburn first, of course, and speak with Father Beithe, but Elder Donn had played no small part in our victory and I would see that recognized, alongside Tiffany and her part. According to Elder Donn it had been long since another Traveller had come to the kingdom. For that alone she would have been welcomed and celebrated by King Arlan, even if she had not been so essential to the success of the quest.

Elder Donn agreed to accompany us, though he plainly cared nothing for the recognition of his part, bent as he was on plying Tiffany with questions about her world and all we had seen there. She would answer just as gladly, which only fueled Elder Donn’s excitement. This went on for some time before I intervened, seeing her stifled yawns. I sent her off to the the healer’s house and the soft cot that awaited her there. 

I followed for a ways, as I intended to check on Riastrad before heading to my own bed, but as she neared the doorway she froze and called out to me.

“Do you feel that wind?” she turned again to me. 

“Wind?” The night was mostly still. A little stuffy what with the lingering smoke that still rose from ruined and half ruined buildings, even though the fires were out. 

At least it was still for me. For her, though I could not feel it, something stirred her cloak and her hair, drawing them towards the doorway.

“I think…  it’s time for me to go home,” she said. 

Bare hours earlier I would have welcomed that news. Now? After the danger had passed? It seemed unfair to not show her the best our kingdom had to offer as a reward for her part in the dragon’s defeat. If she left now, she would pass right into legend, indistinguishable from the tale of of the wood nymph who had given King Talvar his sword and shown him the key to winning his kingdom. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you all that time,” she said, filling the silence that stretched as I tried to think of something to say. “And for not trying to explain my plan.” She shuffled her feet. “Maybe you could’ve made a better one if I’d shown you what the fire extinguisher could do.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I don’t suppose I gave you much reason to expect that I would’ve trusted your plan. And the God of All surely kept you, which was my main concern.”

“Kept us.” Tiffany said.

And it was truer than she realized. I had started out with no real hope for myself. It was only beginning to sink in that it was over, with a far better outcome than I had envisioned. “Indeed.”

A wistful smile crossed her face. “Will you tell Elder Donn I said thank you?”  

“Wait. Wait here a moment, don’t go yet. Let me get Elder Donn, it will not take long and he will want to send you off with a blessing.”

She cast a glance back at the doorway, and nibbled at her lower lip, but nodded.

Elder Donn wasn’t far, and when I said that Tiffany needed to say farewell he understood what I meant at once and hastened to follow me back. He still carried the lance in hand, now clean and shining as before, and though I reckoned the kirik would be glad to keep it in memory of the deliverance from Namhaid’s wrath, I thought it best to give Tiffany the chance to return it to its rightful owner.

She wrinkled her forehead when she heard my intent. “What about the silver?”

“Keep it. I will repay Elder Donn. Goodness knows I can’t repay the debt I owe you, as you probably saved my life—even though you ignored my instructions to do it, I’m not so bent on chiding you for it as I was earlier.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said.

“Well, I owe whatever warrior this belongs to his own weapon back, and in truth it still pangs my conscience that we did not ask permission to borrow it first.”

Tiffany grinned. “I keep telling you, slaying a dragon is the coolest thing that weapon has ever done. The owner would be honored. If he knew.”

“Coolest?” Elder Donn asked, puzzled but always willing to expand his knowledge of her dialect.

She waved a hand. “Best. Most awesome. Wrong word, sorry. But I’ll take it back for you if you like. And maybe someday I’ll be able to bring the silver back to you. Of course if I ever get the chance to come back I will.“

She looked up at us, bright-eyed, but smiling so that I nearly missed the tears in the corners of her eyes. She surely remembered what Elder Donn had said about return visits being rare, and already she had returned once. But then, nothing about our people traveling to another world has ever been recorded, and Elder Donn and I had done so. Who could say what else might be possible? Not I, not anymore.

I knelt in front of her. There was one thing I would not have her in doubt of.  “Theophania, do not worry about returning the silver, but if you ever can return to see us in less perilous times, I would like that very much. Fare well, wherever you fare.” 

“Fare well,” she echoed. Then she put her arms around me, as she had done when I had sent her off down the tunnel. This time, though I was still startled, I had time to return her embrace. She tightened her grip before releasing me and turning to Elder Donn, who was the better prepared for her.

“Oh kay. I really do have to go. I’ll miss you both.”

Elder Donn ceremoniously placed the lance in her hands.  “As we will miss you. Go with the blessing of the God of All, and if ever you may return to us you will be most welcome.”

Even holding the lance, she managed a more perfect courtesy than she had when I first met her. Which must have reminded her that she still wore the green wool dress and russet cloak. “Oh!” She unfastened the cloak and handed it to Elder Donn. “I’m sure someone else will need this more than I will.” She fingered the skirt of her dress, a sheepish look on her face. “I left my own clothes back at your kirik,” she told him. “The dress was more comfortable without them, and I did think I’d be coming back. I know they’ll be strange to you, but hopefully they can replace this for someone my size?”

Elder Donn laughed. “We will put them to good use, never fret about it.”

She grinned wide. “Wait till my friends see it. It’s not going to be proof of what happened to me on it’s own, but it’s something that would be hard to explain away.” She smoothed her hair out of her face, which, though I could feel no wind, wind appeared to be tugging at hair and skirts and growing more insistent every moment. She turned to face the doorway, but cast one last look back at us. She said nothing more, but waved a hand and smiled.. Then turned and walked through the doorway. The shadowed darkness of the doorway swallowed her, but for a brief instant I thought I saw bright sunlight beyond and caught a hint of the sounds of a festival day before all was dark and silent again. I knew without a step forward that that doorway would only lead me to the inside of the healer’s house if I stepped through.

“Well,” Elder Donn sighed. “That is a pity that she had to go so soon, don’t you think?”

I did not answer, but I knew that he knew I was also disappointed, rather than relieved that she was no longer my responsibility, as well as grateful that she had come after all.  It was the closest he came to telling me he told me so.

Here I end my story. May the God of All use it as he will.

Epilogue.

Sir Uriah agreed to record the whole adventure for us, and so long was it in coming that my wrist was almost fully healed by the time we received it back at the Kirik of Carranburn. He had grumbled a little about his insufficiency for the task, as was his way, but in the end he relented without much pressure. True, I could have dictated what I had seen to another here at the Kirik, but I was not there when Tiffany appeared and that was a key point we wanted for our records, along with the very moment of the dragon’s defeat as I did not get an unobstructed view. 

For one who claimed to be unused to the task of the chronicler, Sir Uriah has a good memory and a fair hand with words. (Indeed I dare say he did as well as others who have had more practice and have written of the Travellers, even if those tales may have been written faster—but there he says I am biased because I have seen Namhaid with my own eyes and so his words have only to draw up the memory before my own mind makes up the difference. I will let Father Beithe be the judge.)

Now that my wrist has healed I can add a detail or two that Sir Uriah would not have added even if his tale had extended beyond Tiffany’s departure. The rewards that King Arlan bestowed upon him for his success in delivering the kingdom were great, both riches and honor, but as for the money Sir Uriah sent much of it to the kirik of Kynvan to be used in the repairs and rebuilding of their town. Deep under the rubble of the collapsed side of the kirik, they found the tomb of Sir Rioghan, and in the tomb they found a shining lance. The Duraidd lance had indeed survived, but as the God of All is not bound by the legends men create, it seems to have pleased Him to use something else in the defeat of Namhaid. Kynvan’s priest offered the lance back to Sir Uriah, who keeps it not only as the heirloom it is, but in memory of his own adventure.

[nanahachikyuu]

five-star hotel // modern!ivar x reader (part one of two)

Summary: sometimes, love results in heartbreak. That’s just life, and there was nothing she could do about it. But what if the reason for her anguish was also the very same one that brought her so much bliss?

Pairing: ivar x reader

Type: miniseries

Warnings: angst, heartbreak

Word count: 3.325

Music insp.: Hotel Caro by Baco Exu do Blues & Luísa Sonza (at this point, let’s just assume me picking Brazilian artists is the norm).

A/N:

This is the first time I’ve written for Ivar, but the moment I listened to this song I immediately related it to him. I guess my brain is just wired to connect anything angsty with our dear Ivar The Boneless. It’s very different from what I usually write, and I am aware that this trope has been done a thousand times, but I wanted to give it a try

Please, listen to the song! I know it’s in Portuguese, like most of the songs I pick, but I believe it’s possible to feel the heartbreak just from the rhythm. Nevertheless, I loosely translated some of the lyrics that inspired the fic.

Gentle reminder that English is not my first language, and this was not proofread.

I'm thinking of you smoking a cigarette An empty bathtub, an expensive hotel Honestly, I’m tired If it was you who made a mistake, why do I feel guilty? (hotel caro by baco exu do blues & luísa sonza)

Y/N was over-the-moon excited when Ivar shared his plans with her.

She had been invited by her boss to work with her for a trimester at another branch and had jumped at the opportunity. But, as amazing as it was for her career, it’d keep her away from Ivar for three whole months.

Altogether, they had been apart for two months now, and there was still one more to go. So, when Ivar called to share the news, how he had already booked a hotel room for them, the best available in town, she was over-the-moon excited with the possibility of seeing her boyfriend earlier than expected, and, better yet, have a romantic weekend away with him.

Y/N had gone all in on his idea, even spending more money than she normally would in a dress she just knew he’d love. She had spent the hours before they’d meet getting ready, choosing the lingerie he loved to see her in, putting on makeup that made the colours of her eyes stand out, even watching a YouTube tutorial to master the technique. When Y/N looked at herself in the mirror of her small temporary bathroom, she felt powerful. She was ready to slay, and Ivar Ragnarsson was her chosen victim.

It never crossed her mind the fact that Ivar hadn’t contacted her the whole day, neither to confirm or cancel their plans.

She arrived at the hotel room early, wanting to surprise him. She wanted to see the look on his face when he walked in the room and saw her already there, waiting for him. Also, she missed him like crazy and couldn’t wait to see him.

There was an armchair in a corner of the room, and she moved it, so it was facing the door. Grabbing a bottle of wine she found in the minibar, she sat on the chair, legs crossed, and a glass in hand. The clock on the wall told her it was almost eight pm. Ivar would be there at any moment.

So, she waited. And waited. And waited some more.

It was nearing midnight when Y/N finally accepted that he was not going to show up. By that time, she had finished almost two bottles of wine, still sitting on that same armchair, staring blankly at the door. By then, she had stopped listening to the elevator, no longer perking up to every noise out in the corridor. Was that the sound of his crutch hitting the floor? Well, if it was, she didn’t care anymore.

The one thing she could not believe was that she was, once again, in that situation. She had trusted him with her heart one more time, and he had stomped it to pieces. Again.

She knew Ivar. She knew him better than anyone else, even better than his overprotective mother. She knew that if there had been an emergency, he’d find a way to contact her. If he couldn’t reach out to her himself, he’d send one of his brothers, he’d find a way.

Y/N remembered a specific episode a couple of months into their relationship, when they were supposed to have dinner at their favourite Greek restaurant. But he was over an hour late and all her calls kept going straight to voice mail. That was the first time she thought he had abandoned her. However, just as she was about to leave the restaurant, hungry and desolate, she spotted Ubbe. Ivar had had a minor accident that afternoon, and was in the hospital ever since, just as a precaution, but since he didn’t have his phone and couldn’t contact his girl, he had sent his brother to find her.

But this, left stranded in a hotel room, in a foreign country, when he was supposed to meet her? She knew better. He had every intention of leaving her. This was part of a thought-out plan, a meticulously crafted one. Honestly, she couldn’t even blame him for this one. What was it people said? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

The first time Ivar pulled something like this, she had cried her heart out for days.

Y/N was telling her friends and family about this amazing guy she had met. All her friends noticed how smitten she was, walking around with heart eyes. Even her mother pointed it out when she brought him to a family festivity. Ivar had won over her mother and aunts the second he walked into her childhood home, carrying a small bouquet for each one of them. Y/N believed she was living the fairy tale she loved to read about as a teenager. Until she wasn’t.

One day, he simply disappeared. Ivar stopped answering her calls and replying to her texts. He had disappeared with the blink of an eye, as easy as that. When a week had gone by without any news from him, she decided enough was enough. After work, she went straight to his apartment. Y/N was going to make him talk, weather he wanted it or not. Civilized people had conversations and she was going to make him act like one for once in his life. However, when she got to his building, the doorman said he wasn’t home, and hadn’t been for the whole week. But he did leave a box for her to pick up, with all the stuff she had left at his place inside, she later found out.

That night, Y/N had gone back to her apartment and cried into the night. And the following days. She didn’t tell a soul about what had happened, how could she? How could she face her family and friends after everything she had told them about Ivar? She believed he was her very own Prince Charming, but it turned out he was just another jerk. Who believed in fairy tales, anyways?

For days, she regretted going by his place. She should’ve known better. If he wanted to talk, he’d come looking for her. All her life, she had judged her friends who always wanted to talk to their partners, to tell them how much they had hurt their feelings. Y/N never understood that need. She’d always argue that they knew that, they just didn’t care. Not receiving a message is also a message, right? Well, just look at how the tables have turned!

However, two weeks later, he came back. She had gone to the movies, her first outing since he left, and when she came back, he was sitting by her door, a huge bouquet of her favourite flowers in hand, one for each day they were apart. For hours, she let him apologise, beg her for forgiveness. He had gotten scared, he got cold feet. He loved her and didn’t realise how much he needed her until it was too late, how he couldn’t live without her. They could go away together, just the two of them and rekindle their relationship. But please, please, she had to forgive him, she had to accept him back!

It was the first time she had ever seen him cry, and the last one. That’s what had gotten to her, she had to admit. Seeing Ivar shed tears for her touched a place in her heart she thought he had damaged forever. So, she agreed. Y/N accepted him back into her life with the promise that he’d never do something like that ever again. If he had doubts about their relationship again, they’d talk it out, together, as a couple.

And just like that, they were back into their very own fairy tale. It was like they were never broken up at all. Their love was stronger than ever, and nothing could tear them apart. Or so she believed.

She just couldn't understand how they ended up here. Again. Y/N kept repeating the last months of their relationship in her head, trying to find the moment where things had changed. Trying to understand if she had done something wrong. However, she knew there wasn’t one. During their time together, Y/N hadn’t been anything but faithful. She knew Ivar had his own issues, even understood some of them; he also required attention, so much attention. Ivar needed someone who understood he wasn’t the easiest person to deal with, but that would devote themselves to him, nevertheless.

So that’s what she did.

Y/N loved Ivar, and there was never a day that went by where she didn’t tell him that. She’d repeat it to him until he’d get embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning red. She’d point out every little detail about him that mesmerized her. Be it his looks, his intelligence, his devotion to her and others he cared about.

She loved it when he’d frown his eyebrows when reading a book. How he’d always pick her favourite movies for them to watch before she even said anything. The way he’d defend her against his brothers’ mocking, even though she was pretty well capable of doing so herself.

In return, she’d keep her fridge stocked with his favourite drinks. She’d send his favourite lunch to his work every time she sensed he was so deep in his work that he forgot to eat. When his legs were hurting too much, Y/N would have his medicine ready, his work brought to him, his bed, or her bed, if they were at her apartment, clean and comfortable. She’d do all that without acknowledging his condition, because she knew how much he hated to feel incapable.

She hadn’t done anything wrong; she was sure of it. So, why did she still feel guilty?

What did he tell her once? Oh yeah, he might break a bone, but he could never break a promise. Oh, well. Apparently, she wasn’t included in such promise. Who would’ve thought? Not Y/N, for certain.

Lingerie the colour of late afternoon Who taught you the way to me? Lying is also hiding the truth Why didn't you take care of me? My darling, loving you so much is not good But it makes no difference I don't want your presence Don't trade me for anyone What is fighting good for? May you win

“Weren’t you going away this weekend?” Hvitserk asks his brother.

They were having their usual night out, just the brothers, and it wasn’t unusual for Ivar to tag along, even if he claimed to hate the city’s club life. But he was almost certain Ivar had mentioned something about travelling to meet his girlfriend.

Ivar takes a moment to realize his older brother was talking to him. But when he does, he just glares at the man.

“Trouble in paradise, I see”, Hvitserk remarks. Honestly, he was surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Ivar had the bad habit of pushing away everything that was good for him.

“Mind your own business, brother”, Ivar answers back, already regretting his decision to join his brothers at the bar.

“What did you do, Ivar?”, Hvitserk tries again.

“Why is it always me that does something wrong? Why couldn’t it have been her?”, the dark-haired brother rebuts back.

Hvitserk doesn’t bother with an answer, just stares at his little brother, one eyebrow raised. Sometimes he couldn’t believe the audacity of Ivar. The nerve!

The last thing Ivar wants is to talk about his relationship with Y/N, that being the very reason why he joined his brothers. Luckily for him, Björn got Hvitserk’s attention, distracting him from the matter momentarily.

The weight of what he’d done was heavy on his shoulders. He couldn’t shake off the image of her alone in that hotel room. When the hotel management had called him to let him know that his guest had arrived, like he had instructed them to do, Ivar wanted to cry. He wanted to get on the first flight, make up an excuse about his delay, and spend the rest of the weekend apologising to her.

But he couldn’t.

He was so sure what he was doing was for the best. Why postpone the inevitable? Just so he could have a few more memories to replay when he was laying by himself in bed, missing her warm body pressed up to his? No. Ivar wasn’t like that, he wasn’t one to avoid pain, life had built him like that. Thus, better than wait for his heart to be broken, he anticipated the result. He ended the relationship before it had the power to end him.

Ivar was about to open a bottle of whiskey to drown out his thoughts when he remembered his brothers were meeting up that night. At the time, anything seemed more appealing than spending the night by himself, thinking about her. So, he jumped at the opportunity. But now, sitting at a crowded bar, still nursing the same beer Björn had handed him when he arrived, and, worst of all, facing his brother’s scrutiny, he regretted his choice. He should have stayed home.

“What crawled up your ass?” Sigurd asks suddenly, noticing the sour look on Ivar’s face.

“Fuck off, Sigurd” Ivar snarks back. He was already at his tipping point, and if Sigurd wanted to start a fight with him, so be it. He needed a way to let out some steam anyways.

“I just asked a question, no need to get offended” his brother argues back, but the little smirk on his lips makes it clear that he knew what he was doing. He wanted to get a reaction out of Ivar, and he was about to get one.

“Come on, guys. Let’s chill, ok?” Ubbe, always the peacemaker, intrudes on their exchange.

Ivar could feel Hvitserk’s stare burning on the back of his head. He knew that his brother had not fallen for his bullshit attempts to distract him. He could never lie to his brother; he’d always see straight through him.

“Hey, Ivar” Hvitserk calls, “I’m not feeling too good. Think you can follow me home?”. It was clearly a lie. The man, being the designated driver, hadn’t touched a drink all night.

He debated his options for a second. It was already past midnight, and it would be next to impossible to get an Uber home. He could walk, but his legs were a bit sore from spending the day on his feet. But most of all, even though he didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, he also didn’t want to stay at that bar a second longer.

“Yeah, sure” is all he responds, before standing up, gripping hard to his crutch.

The drive home is silent, and he’s thankful for that. Hvitserk had the habit of opining on his life whenever he got the chance. But, as they grew older and closer, he also learned when not to interfere, and Ivar would be forever thankful for that, especially on a night like this. Not that he’d ever tell his brother that.

“Do you want me to go up with you?” Hvitserk breaks the silence when they arrive at Ivar’s apartment building.

“No!” he answers abruptly. As much as he was thankful for the get away ride, he didn’t wish to spend anymore second with his brother, because if he did, he knew he’d cave and tell him exactly what had gone down that night, and he was not up for the speech that would follow. “I mean, no, but thanks”, he tries again, in a much gentler tone, one that surprised Hvitserk as much as his abrupt response, if not more.

“Hey, Ivar” he hears his brother call for him, just as he was about to leave the car. Standing by the passenger door, Ivar bends down so he can look at him.

“Whatever happened, between you and Y/N, I know you two can work it out. Just have a little faith in yourself, ok?”.

Ivar doesn’t answer, just closes the car door, and walks towards his apartment.

It was hours later when Ivar finally dragged himself to bed. After he had gotten home, he wandered around the apartment, purposely avoiding his bedroom, the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep Y/N out of his thoughts. They shared so many good memories inside those four walls, and now it felt like they were all coming back to haunt him. How was it possible that a place where once he felt so much peace, now left him suffocated?

Now, laying in bed by himself, Ivar wondered if what he did was really the best choice. If he had followed through with his plans like he had initially planned, he’d be with her right now. They would’ve gone to dinner, where she’d share with him all the news about her job, and he’d complain about working with his family. Then, they’d make their way back to the room, where he’d show her just how much he had missed her. Finally, she’d put on his discarded shirt, and lay in bed with him; her hands running through his dark hair, softly lulling him to sleep. He never had a good night of sleep as good as the ones he spent with her.

The images were playing out so vividly in his head, it was like it was happening right in front of him. Ivar could feel the tears burning his eyes, so he finally let them go. He’d let himself cry, just for tonight. Tomorrow, he’d put his armour back on, and move on with his life.

The fact that he kept himself away from what would’ve been her side of the bed wasn’t helping. But Ivar couldn’t bring himself to lay on her side. He was sure the pillows would still smell like her, even though it had been months since they last shared the bed, and the sheets had been changed many times ever since. Reaching out, he touches one of the pillows, fingers running through the soft material.

He never understood how someone could sleep with so many pillows, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to put them away. It was like a part of him expected her to come back. As if one day he’d wake up and find her sleeping peacefully by his side, hands tucked beneath her head, lips parted, hair disheveled. Every time he woke up first, he’d stay in bed, admiring her features, imagining what would it be like to wake up next to her every single day, for the rest of his life.

He knew he had made the right decision. Loving someone as much as he loved her couldn’t be considered healthy, and he knew their tragic fate was just around the corner. One day, Y/N would realize the mistake she’s made. She’d finally understand that he wasn’t who she deserved. She’d get tired of putting up with his sorrow ass and leave.

Or worse.

She could be lying. What if all this time they were together she was lying to him? What if all the times she had said she loved him, she wasn’t being truthful? What if she had already met someone new? She had spent the past couple of months by herself in a different country… Weren’t there a million rom-com movies about that trope?

Honestly, the possibilities were infinite. So many things could happen. Just look at his father’s history. Ragnar married twice, had children, built a family. Both his wives devoted themselves to him, and still he wasn’t satisfied. Nowadays, he was just a shallow of the man he once was. He had so much and still couldn’t find happiness. What if that was his fate too?

No, he couldn’t end up like Ragnar. He was better than that. And that’s exactly why he did what he did, he had to remind himself. It was better to end things by his own terms than live by the volatility of other people's feelings. It was better to suffer now, when he was prepared, than be taken by surprise, be blindsided by her.

So, that was it.

Tonight, he’d let himself feel the pain of the breakup. He’d allow himself to remember all the reasons why he loved her so fiercely. All the little things that made her so unique in his eyes.

But tomorrow, it must come to an end.

Tomorrow, he was going to move on with his life, whatever it takes.

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[morganofthewildfire]

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Tied Me to You - Prologue:

Seven

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masterlist

~4.5k words

an: It's beginning! Me and @rowanaelinn are super excited to share this with you, and we can't wait to bring you along the journey that we've created! We'll be switching off posting chapters, so look between our two blogs to stay up to date! And let either of us know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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Doranelle, 1955

At seven years old, there was a lot Rowan Whitethorn didn’t know about the world. He didn’t know why the sky was blue, or why it got cold in the winter, or what taxes were. But he did know something. Aelin Galathynius was his best friend in the whole wide world, and that would never change.

He also knew that his favorite game was to play pirates, and that Aelin’s new costume was absolutely brilliant. The dark around her right eye, the little cuts on her lips… He was jealous of it. He asked her how she got ready for their play date, because he wanted to do the same next time. But she got pissy, and only told him to mind his own business. 

She could be so secretive at times. Being pissy was a major part of her personality, he didn’t mind it. He did mind the secrets, though. She knew everything about him, he thought it was only fair that he knew everything about her too. 

But he didn’t push, and after she told him to shove off, he just shrugged and went to get their swords. The summer day was nice, though a little hot, which meant it was a perfect day to keep their game going.

Yesterday, they’d left off with Captain Aelin and First Mate Rowan being chased down by evil pirates, not good pirates like them. They were on their ship, The Fireheart, and had to get ready to fight the pirates and defend it. Aelin had come up with the name, and it’d stuck, though she didn’t tell him where it came from. 

Another secret.

But he liked the name, so he didn’t really care where it came from. Especially not now, when they were about to be attacked!

Rowan ran back toward the shed in his backyard, trekking barefoot through the dirt as he went to go grab them. He wanted a real sword, but his dad had said no, so he’d gotten two wooden swords instead. One for him and one for Aelin. And he grabbed them both quickly, hurrying back out to where his best friend was waiting.

He found her on the swing by the creek on the other side of his house, sitting there staring at the water. She looked a tad bit sad, her lips were usually curled upward, not the other way round. But that look on her face faded the moment she saw the swords in Rowan’s hands. She got up and snatched one from him, before turning around and running toward their ship, screaming something along the lines of slaying their enemies and bathing in their blood. 

That seemed a little gross, but he’d do it for her. 

A smile pulled at his lips when he remembered the day he met Aelin. That had been gross by then. She was dressed all in white, her school uniform. Rowan had been playing outside, and he heard the sound of branches breaking over his head. He let out a little scream of surprise when he saw a girl of his age, five by then, with her arms and legs around a thick branch like a koala. 

His noise of surprise had been enough to surprise her, too, and she let go of her grip on the woods. And then, she fell into the creek, ruining her perfectly white outfit. She’d said, “Have you never been taught to not scare the ladies?” 

She had a missing tooth in the front, slurring her words. He just answered, “Have you never been taught to not trespass into someone else’s property?” 

She snorted then, such an unlady-like sound. “Trespass? What are you? Fourty?” 

He frowned, his head cocked to the side. “You’re awfully rude. Where are you from?” 

She rolled her eyes, standing up and straight as if she didn’t fall in dirty water. “Clearly not from your side of town, posh boy.” 

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, “Posh boy? Rude isn’t a strong enough word to describe what you are. I do not what to be–”

Cold water hit his skin as he spoke, some of it entering his mouth. He opened his eyes to find the improper girl splashing water at him and giggling as he did. He should be angry at that. The clothes he wore that day were very fine and soft. And yet, he only squinted his eyes at her, entered the water and started splashing her back. 

And just like that, Rowan found his best friend. So, no. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d have an experience with staining liquid, and just like that day, Rowan would follow her. 

-----

They spent the rest of the day playing, planning their war against the enemy pirates before-

“Rowan!” His mother called from inside the house, yelling through the front porch door. “It’s time for dinner!” A frown grew on his face, his wooden sword slumping as he dropped his arm. Dinner meant it was time for Aelin to leave.

He looked over at his best friend, ready to share in the misery. But she was looking away, back through the trees toward her house, only her hair visible. Rowan liked her hair. All the other girls on their street had their hair in such tight little curls, with ribbons hanging down from them like Yulemas gifts. And they could never get that, or their prissy dresses, dirty. 

Aelin’s hair was blonde and wild, almost gold in the sun. It wasn’t usually tied up, but if it was she never cared if it came loose.

Her hair looked soft, and he sometimes wanted to touch it to see if it was, but he never did. 

But that thought went completely out of his mind when she turned to look back at him, her wide blue eyes shiny with what looked like… tears? Was she crying? Though it was annoying, dinner happened every day, what was so bad about today?

He still didn’t know how she’d gotten that dark stuff around her eye, but he barely focused on that, looking at the tear that slipped down her cheek. Something in his chest tightened painfully at the sight.

“You should just stay here for dinner,” he offered, shrugging. Maybe she didn’t like what was for dinner at her house? “My mom is making a great meatloaf.” Then a great idea struck him. “You should just move in!” He smiled at her, thrilled by the idea. Then they wouldn’t ever have to stop playing pirates. 

The words succeeded in making a small smile grow on her face. But then it fell, and his mood fell with it. “You don’t have another room for me,” she said, eyes dropping to the ground. She dragged her sword through the dirt. Rowan thought about that, furrowing his brows at the problem.

His mom definitely wouldn’t let her stay in his room, that wouldn’t be proper. He thought that was stupid, but he couldn’t argue. But -

“I could build you a treehouse!” He said, perking up again. “I can put it right between our houses so we can meet there when you don’t want to go home for dinner. I can bring you whatever food I’m having! It can be our own little spot.” 

He grinned, proud of himself for the idea, and she smiled back, brighter than a thousand suns. 

She opened her mouth to respond when -

“Rowan!” His mom cut her off, calling again, and he sighed.

“I better go,” he said, “but see you tomorrow right?” He swung his sword up to rest on his shoulder, beginning to walk backward toward his house. Aelin nodded, wiping at her face.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, “to whatever end.”

“To whatever end,” he replied back, waving at her before bounding off back toward his house. It was a phrase she’d read in a book apparently, and decided it was going to be their phrase. They said it every time they said goodbye, knowing that they’d always see each other again. 

Rowan had made fun of it the first time she’d said it, and she’d threatened to beat him up for it, but now he liked it just as much as her.

He ran up the front porch steps, taking off his shoes as he walked inside, like he was supposed to, but carried his sword into the dining room, plopping down in a chair across from his dad, who was reading the newspaper.

“Hey dad?” He asked, “can we build a treehouse?”

----

“That is not fair.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes but asked with a smirk, “Do you think pirates are fair?” 

He shrugged, “No. But we’re good pirates.” 

“We are.” 

“Then why are we punishing the entire crew only because their captain is our enemy?” 

Aelin crossed her arms. She was smaller than he was, but there was something in her eyes that made him feel as if she was taller. Out of his reach. “If someone was my enemy, would they be yours?” 

“Of course,” he answered. Why did she have to ask? Early this morning, he’d forced his father out of bed to drag him in the woods not far away from their house, and they collected some of the wood they would use to build the treehouse. 

But Aelin didn’t know that. His father said it’d take time to build, so Rowan decided that it would be her Yulemas present. 

“Then, it’s the same for them. If their captain is our enemy, they all are.” 

Rowan was about to answer something along the lines of things are not always being either black or white. His father always said that, even if Rowan didn’t always understand what it meant. He felt like it fit at that moment. 

But Aelin’s stomach growled, loudly. They looked at each other before laughing, joking about how Aelin’s belly would scare their enemies away from their ship. 

“What’s so funny here?” His mother asked, Rowan didn’t hear her coming. He was too busy laughing with Aelin. He told his mother what happened and she smiled. His mother had the kindest smile in the entire world. She also gave the best hugs. But he was a big boy, now. He didn’t need her hugs anymore. Except before saying goodnight, in the privacy of his bedroom. “You hungry?” She asked Aelin, who only shrugged, a shy look on her face. His mother winked at them both, “Come in, it’s time for a little snack, what do you think about that, little sea-terrors? I’ll even let you have some cake, does that sound good?”

They both nodded rapidly, and followed his mom as she turned to head back inside, her long skirt wrapping around her legs. Rowan didn’t usually like cake all that much, but the one his mom made was delicious. 

And Aelin loved cake, and sweets of any kind. He looked back to share a look of excitement, but she had lagged behind a bit, hesitating almost. Rowan slid his hand into hers, the one not holding a sword, and squeezed it once.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”

She smiled lightly at him and followed this time as they went up to his house, climbing the front porch and entering through the front door. It wasn’t much cooler inside than it was outside, but Rowan barely noticed as he headed toward the kitchen.

“Rowan, sweetie,” his mom said, stopping before she entered the kitchen and turning to face them. “Why don’t you get the cake ready for us? I want to talk to Aelin about something real quick, okay?” 

Rowan looked at both of them, curious to know what he was missing out on, but he didn’t ask. Instead he just nodded and headed into the kitchen, his wooden sword in tow. 

He’d just ask Aelin about it later.

——

Aelin’s hands turned moist when Rowan’s mother asked him to leave. She was half tempted to ask him to stay, or to help him get cake ready. But, from what she knew about Rowan’s mom, she was sweet but she always got what she wanted. And what she wanted now, was a conversation with Aelin. 

She wiped her hands on the pants she stole from Rowan as she followed her into the hall bathroom. They were too small for him now, so he let her borrow them for one day. She never gave them back. No store was selling pants for little girls, not that she ever went to a store to buy clothes. She got what was given to her, that was all. 

She winced, having entirely forgotten that her clothes were disgustingly dirty after playing for hours, and now her hands were dirty, too. It wouldn’t bother her normally, but she didn’t want to get anything dirty in Rowan’s house. 

“Can you sit on the counter for me, dear?” Liana Whitethorn asked, and Aelin nodded, eyes on the floor as she climbed up to sit next to the sink. “Do you mind if I brush your hair?” She asked, her voice warm and kind, and Aelin looked up hesitantly, meeting green eyes so similar to the ones she was so comfortable around. 

That made her calm down a little bit. 

She shook her head, and followed her gesture to turn around, crossing her legs as she faced the mirror. She watched as Rowan’s mom leaned over and grabbed a hairbrush. 

Mrs. Whitethorn began pulling it through Aelin’s wild blonde locks, smoothing it in soothing strokes. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” She asked softly, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “I didn’t see you yesterday, but Rowan came in last night asking if I could help him figure out how to get his face like yours for your pirate game.”

Aelin looked away, her face burning. 

“Was it your father?” Rowan’s mom pressed, running her hands down her hair to smooth it further. 

“He’s not my dad,” Aelin interrupted, shaking her head. No, he wasn’t her dad. She hadn’t seen her real dad in a few years, or her real mom. She still didn’t know why they’d had to leave her, but they did, so here she was.

But at least she’d been able to meet Rowan.

“No, of course not, I’m sorry,” Rowan’s mom confirmed, and Aelin met her eyes in the mirror again, blinking at the woman’s warm smile. “How about I braid your hair for you, how does that sound?”

Aelin nodded hesitantly, her mouth once again shut. She’d never had her hair braided before, not like those other girls on their street with their hair in pretty curls and twists and buns. 

Mrs. Whitethorn just smiled again and pulled back all of Aelin’s golden hair behind her shoulders, beginning the braid. 

“You have very pretty hair,” she complimented, and Aelin fidgeted, looking down. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve how nice Rowan’s mom was being. She didn’t deserve it, she heard it every day. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, “I have my mother’s hair.” She didn’t remember much about her mom, just flashes of golden hair, the smell of smoke, and the name fireheart. 

“Do you know where she is?” Mrs. Whitethorn asked, her touch soft and comforting in Aelin’s hair. It felt motherly. 

Aelin only shook her head, before apologizing. She didn’t want to ruin Mrs. Whitethorn’s braid, she was already so generous to use that time on her. She could be doing more useful things instead of braiding hair that hadn’t been washed in days. Shame crippled inside of her, and she prayed to every God she knew that Mrs. Whitethorn wouldn’t see the dirt on her scalp, or that she wouldn’t ask questions. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, and Aelin shrugged. She didn’t think about her parents often, it hurt too much when she started down that road. 

“What flavor is the cake?” 

Mrs. Whitethorn chuckled softly, the sound like a melody and Aelin’s entire body stiffened when she kissed the back of her head. Thankfully she didn’t comment on her reaction, and only answered, “Chocolate, of course.” 

She smiled, her grin hurting her cheeks. “I love chocolate.”

She looked up to find Liana looking at her through the mirror, and even if Aelin didn’t know her too well, she knew her eyes were filled with worry and sadness. She bit the inside of her cheek, a habit she’d taken through the years to avoid crying. Physical pain distracted from the emotional one. “I’m fine,” she said. 

Mrs. Whitethorn cocked her head to the side, a small smile pulling her lips up, “You don’t have to pretend here, you know?” 

Her bottom lip wobbed and her eyes burned with tears, and yet, she said nothing. 

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” Rowan’s mom asked, her light brown brows furrowed. “You can take Rowan’s room.” 

Aelin was about to open her mouth and respond, a tear streaming down her bruised cheek, when a soft knock sounded at the door. They both turned to look and saw Rowan standing in the open door, looking concerned as he saw her tears.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, and if anything it made her cry more. She buried her face in her hands, doing her best to sniff back her tears, not wanting to cry in front of either of them. “Your hair looks nice.”

A sob escaped her at the sweet words, and she felt warm arms come to hug her, Rowan’s mom squeezing her tight. She hesitated a moment before sinking into the embrace.

It was the first kind embrace she’d felt in years. Even Rowan hadn’t hugged her like that, he couldn’t. This was the hug of a mother. 

“It’s okay, honey,” she murmured, “it’s all going to be okay.” 

——

“What do you wanna do when you’re older?” Aelin asked Rowan as he stood watch on their little ship. He stood higher than he usually did on a brick he found in his father’s shed. She said he was the first one to stand watch, and as her First Mate, who was he to refuse?

He shrugged, “Dunno. It’s so far away. What about you?”

She looked far away, as if they were truly at sea and was looking for land to sail to. She took a deep breath, gripping her sword harder. “I don’t know. Not much for me to do, is there?” She asked, a little sadly. “All I know is that I want to do it far, far away from here.”

He frowned, remembering to look ahead from time to time or she’d have his butt for not being careful enough. “You don’t like it here?”

Another shrug. He’d noticed she always did that when they talked about her. “I like you.”

That had him smiling. He liked her too, but he didn’t say it. Other boys at school would make fun of him if he did. Instead, he said, “Where do you want us to go?”

She turned around, stars shining in her eyes. “Us?”

He grinned. “You said to whatever end, right?”

He saw her open her mouth, but hushed voices make them turn suddenly, their gazes finding his mom talking with their neighbour, Aelin’s foster dad. 

His brows furrowed. His parents didn’t like him, why would they have a conversation? Maybe to inform him that Aelin would spend the night here, though Aelin said that he likely wouldn’t mind. 

But their conversation didn’t seem enjoyable, at least not from the way his mother’s back was stiff. She only stood that way when she was angry at Rowan, or when his father made jokes she hated. 

Rowan had never met him really, definitely had never talked to him, but something must really be wrong for his mother to be like that. 

“You’re just another bored housewife,” he spat. “Use that time to raise your kid and don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“No,” Aelin breathed, her eyes wide. “No, no, no.”

Was he talking to his mother that way? And why? Rowan tightened his hands into fists. He wasn’t a violent boy, words were usually his weapon of choice, but hearing someone talk that way to his mother… It had something burning in his throat. 

And the tears in Aelin’s eyes didn’t help. His father always said that it was the man’s role to care and protect the women he loved. Aelin, she was the strongest person he knew, his captain, but he still wanted to protect her. She was his best friend, after all. 

And his mother, too. It was his role to protect her if his father wasn’t there. Not that she couldn’t do it herself, he knew she could. But he didn’t want her to have to reach that limit. 

He almost went over there, to do what he didn’t know, until he felt a small hand clutch his tightly. He looked over, seeing Aelin’s wide eyes, and decided his place was right there by her side.

He squeezed her hand in comfort, but watched the argument from across the yard, unable to hear most of it. Aelin took a few steps back, almost hiding herself in the bushes before he called out her name. Loud. 

She still hadn’t let go of his hand, he would feel her shake. What could cause her such reaction? Adults arguing was the way of life. He didn’t particularly like it when his parents were involved but it was their business. Not the kid’s ones. 

He screamed her name again, and her back stiffened before she walked out and let go of his hand. He was right behind her, eyeing warily the man who disrespected his mother and scared Aelin so much. 

“Home,” he barked an order, pointing to their small house. “Now.” 

“Don’t talk to her that way,” his mother said, anger burning in her eyes. 

The man hissed, pointing to Rowan, “Your responsibility.” Then he pointed to Aelin. “Mine. Now, go home.” 

Aelin swallowed, “I-I was going to spend the ni–”

He didn’t even let her finish before saying, “No. I won’t repeat myself a third time.” 

What was his problem? He didn’t have to agree with their plans, but did he have to be so rude? His friend was obviously afraid. He opened his mouth, but Aelin stopped him with a hug. “It’s okay. I’ll go to sleep and we'll play tomorrow?” 

He looked up at his mother. Surely, there had to be a way for Aelin to stay over? She pinched on her lips, shaking her head. So Rowan hugged Aelin back and asked, “Same time?” 

She gave him a smile, but he didn’t think this one was real. She was too good at pretending for him to be sure, though. “Yes, First Mate.”

——

Rowan idly swung back and forth on the wooden swing, dragging his foot through the dirt as he looked over at the trees on the other side of the yard yet again. Just waiting for Aelin to appear. It was three hours past when they were supposed to meet up, past when she came over every morning without fail.

It was summer, which meant no school, which meant she could show up early in the morning and leave just before dinner. But the sun was slowly rising above the trees, and his best friend wasn’t there.

Rowan picked at a loose piece of wood from Aelin’s sword, resting it on his lap as he looked yet again.

Where was she?

The creek gurgled in front of him, and he watched a fish swimming by, a spot of bright yellow in the blue water. Like Aelin’s eyes.

He huffed miserably and stood up from the swing, deciding to go inside and figure out what was going on. He trudged through the yard, kicking up leaves on his way. It was hot outside, but his yard was well shaded, a whole canopy of trees above him. 

There were always a lot of birds flying around, chirping in the mornings, and he listened to their singing mournfully as he hurried in to ask his mom what was going on. 

But as he walked inside, the screen porch door clacking shut behind him, he found his mother sitting at the dining room table crying, his father sitting next to her trying to comfort her. Her head was in her hands, her elbows on the table, his dad’s hand on her back. 

“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked cautiously, dropping both swords down to his side. His mom looked up, her green eyes filled with tears, looking at him so so sadly, and in that moment - he knew.

He dropped the swords onto the floor, turning and running back outside, ignoring the “Rowan!” his mom yelled from inside. He didn’t hesitate a single second as he turned left, running straight for the treeline and straight toward Aelin’s house. 

He’d never been there, he never went over there, but today he was going to. 

It was a tiny house, looking like it might fall apart if a bad wind hit it. It was dark, and a little sad looking, and seeing it now made Rowan realize why she always wanted to come over to his house, where it was warm and bright, and there was always fresh lemonade. Not like this. 

But he didn’t pause as he ran toward the shack, hurrying up the front steps and knocking on the door rapidly. She was here, she had to be here.

No one answered. 

He tried again, banging his hand on the front door as he tried to catch his breath, tears he would never admit to burning his eyes. 

Still, no one answered.

“Aelin?” He yelled, moving over to a window. “Are you in there?” The curtains were open so he could see into what he guessed was the living room, though all he saw was a beat up couch and an old TV. There was a threadbare rug on the floor, and… one of Aelin’s books lying askew by the wall. That was it. No sign of anyone inside.

“Aelin?” He tried again, a tear dripping down his cheek. “We’re supposed to play pirates! I stood watch all this morning, just like I promised!”

He went back to the door, moving to knock again, when a warm hand closed around his arm gently. He froze, hoping it was her, but he turned around and it was just his mom, looking down at him with those sad eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Rowan,” she whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “They moved away. I heard this morning.” Rowan stood there in disbelief, standing still in his mother’s embrace. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, smoothing a hand down his hair. “She’s gone.”

His mother handed him a little pink piece of paper, one that he recognized as Aelin’s. She’d already left him notes with the same paper. She wasn’t a girly girl over all, but she’d confided in him that pink and red were both her favorite color. 

With shaking hands he opened the note. 

I’m afraid I have to go on other adventures, I would have stayed if I could.

The Fireheart is yours, Captain Whitethorn. 

You are my favorite sailor and my favorite friend.

To whatever end, 

AG.

And that’s when he let himself cry, sinking into his mother’s arms. And the tears came quickly, spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed. He didn’t know he could hurt this much. He always thought the term heartbreak was an exaggeration, but standing there, right then, he could feel his split in two.

Because that man, Mr. Perrington, took her away from here. Took her away from him. 

Because Aelin, his best friend in the whole wide world, was gone.

~~~~~~~

taglist:

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@backtobl4ck

@thegreyj

@anniesbookshelf

@ladykreads

@tomtenadia 

@violet-mermaid7

@emilyoftheshadows

@khildreth

@justreadertings

[yloiseconeillants]

sigh god ok here's the emet-selch fic

“Snake, opo-opo, wolf… Snake, opo-opo, wolf… Snake…” Yloise’s litany slowed as she approached the shore of Lake Tusi Mek’ta. The Kojin’s gift of waterbreathing was simultaneously a blessing and a curse: she no longer needed to fear drowning, but the instances in which she was volunteered to go swimming had increased tenfold. She looked out over the lake, an expanse of reeds and vines and roots and algae, then back to her silk dress and frowned. She glanced around at the water’s edge around her. Some stumps remained from an old harvest of timber. It would do as well as any. She kicked off her boots, into the stump, and placed her tinted glasses on top of the stump. The ever-present Light stung at her eyes, and she squeezed them shut until she saw stars in the blackness behind her eyelids. Satisfied that this was as good as her pain was going to get, she grasped for the hem of her dress to hoist it off, just as someone behind her cleared their throat.

She dropped her hem and whirled around, her eyes failing to focus, but the unmistakable dark blob that was Emet-Selch was perched on a thick branch that extended over the lake shore, his legs dangling in a parody of a child on a swing. She wasn’t certain from this distance, but she felt like he was smirking. He was always smirking. She shielded her eyes with a flattened hand and called out to him.

“Been keeping busy since you ran off, then?”

“Not particularly,” he drawled, leaning back on his gloved palms. “What’s the plan this time? More mushrooms to fetch? Beasts to slay? Or are you collecting relics from long-forgotten ruins?”

“Long-forgotten underwater ruins this time.” She sighed wearily, watching the lake water lap on the shore.

“Ah. That explains why you were so eager to discard your dress in the middle of this swamp.” She could hear the smirk that she couldn’t see and blushed. She imagined, briefly but indulgently, launching a rock at his face to hit him square in the nose, his robes flapping as he fell off his perch backwards, the satisfying splash of water as he sank into the lake. Alas, she knew she didn’t possess the aim and settled for a scowl.

“Do- Do you mind?” She cringed as she stumbled over her response, too high-pitched, too fast, too frantic.

“Of course. Your dignity is among my chiefest concerns.” He leaned further back until he was reclining on the branch against one elbow, his head turned to the forest canopy, and covered both his eyes with his free hand.

“So polite,” she hissed through gritted teeth as she threw her dress off and lobbed it at the stump before stomping into the murky depths of the lake.

…

Her task complete, the seal of Ronka in hand, Yloise floated uneasily at the bottom of Lake Tusi Mek’ta. Being fully submerged in water was always uncomfortable for her, though the dense foliage of this lake ameliorated the worst of her discomforts: the feeling of being lost in a void. The Light didn’t command quite as much of its power at this depth, only reaching behind from the shadows of the great trees, the Ronkan ruins, even enormous floating lily pads. She considered her next steps with some reticence. Her seemingly perpetual headache since coming to the First was soothed down here. The Ascian could still be up there. But, she reminded herself, she couldn’t afford to waste any more precious time on her quests, and kicked up her legs until she emerged from under the water’s surface.

Emet-Selch was no longer leaning on his perch above the water. He was, she realized with a small knot of dread forming somewhere within her, sitting on the stump she left her belongings on. Her eyes tried to focus on the shore as she paddled closer, trying to make as little noise as possible. As she grew closer, she recognized with a shock that he was cleaning her tinted glasses with a silk handkerchief.

“Having fun yet?” He called to her, without looking up from his task.

She rolled her eyes, and continued swimming to shore, bobbing a bit in the shallow waves with her limbs tucked underneath her awkwardly to stay submerged from the neck down. Finally satisfied with the results of his efforts, he stood up and carefully propped her glasses up on the stump. He turned again to face her, still in the water, and bowed slightly, his smirk settled into something more like a smile (if he was capable of such a thing, she thought, without charity), before turning his back to her again, slouching towards the tree line. Recognizing a window of opportunity, Yloise clambered up, her legs splashing the water wildly with the effort to get to shore and get dressed as quickly as possible. She wrestled to get her bundled dress back on her still-wet skin, and wiped her hands down on the sides of her skirt before gingerly placing her clean glasses back on her face.

“All right,” she began, turning to face him again, but he was gone. Yloise craned her neck around to see if he had moved behind another tree, but there was no trace of him. She shivered, suddenly cold, and finished lacing up her boots before trudging back to Y’shtola with the seal of Ronka.

[yhwhsdaughter]

pairing: trevor belmont x fem reader

content: forced vampirism, monster slaying, main character death, pining, angst, mention of animal death, usage of the word ‘assault’ to refer vampires feeding on reader

- this was meant as platonic soulmates but it can be seen as romantic too

“It hurts…”

Feet dragging across the rocky ground, you heard screeches of pain from behind, though they soon diminished. You could only focus on the pulsing sensation at the side of your neck; it was like fire rushing through your veins.

Preoccupied with your agony, Belmont was able to sneak up. He raised his whip, ready to kill off the last of the creatures when you suddenly turned, and with glossy eyes you said, “Help me…”

The whip managed to leave a thin horizontal line across your cheek as he pulled back, causing blood to drip out slowly. Now illuminated by the moon, Belmont saw the damage on you. Skin exposed by the ripped clothes showed multiple bite marks. Blood stained the corner of your lips.

She’s been infected..

Belmont didn’t see a monster but a scared woman who’d just been assaulted by vampires. He knew what she’d turn into, but he couldn’t kill her… not when she looked at him like this. Sunrise was approaching so he had to act fast.

Draping his cloak onto your form, Belmont proceeded to carry you into the nearest building, which so happened to be where the carnage had occurred. Upon recognizing the place, you began to panic, shaking and looking at him with distrust. “You’re safe. I killed every last of those bloodsuckers.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in that shitty stinking room. Eventually tiredness overcame your senses; Belmont felt weight settle on his shoulder. He wonder how a vampire could look so innocent whilst sleeping.

“Hungry…”

You felt parched; it felt like your throat had dried up, barely able to utter a word.

“I know.”

A rabbit was placed in front of you. Blinking at it, you directed a confused glance at the man. “I’m—this is.. for me?” He nodded. Taking the animal with traces of disgust, you raised it to your mouth. Blood gushed into your mouth; feeding made a horrible slurping that would certainly haunt you but there was relief amongst those troubling feelings.

You gulped every last drop, draining the poor creature of its life. Still, your hunger and thirst weren’t satiated. Biting your lip, you pondered on the next move. Because this man had saved you, daring to kill him or even feed off him seemed… rude. Not to mention, he seemed way stronger than you in terms of experience. Prior to this, you were a regular citizen. Maybe you could run away?

“Here.”

Trevor could see your turmoil. Most vampires needed to drain at least one human every time they fed—if they were being generous. They could survive weeks without blood but it made them weaker. Besides, it was older vampires who had this kind of self control. Newborns tended to be more unstable.

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You did as told, though you were still unsure. Hesitating, you licked your lips before nearing towards the vein on his wrist.

Trevor let out a grunt when your fangs pierced him. Although you tried to be gentle, it was an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. As he became lightheaded and you full, the mouth that was attached to his wrist removed itself with a ‘pop’.

After making sure he was alright, you asked for his name. “Trevor. Trevor Belmont.”

“Oh..”

“……”

“Oh! I’m (Name) (Surname).”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

“It’s dangerous.”

“I still-still want to go!”

The last remnants of sun were gone. Ever since your first encounter with the rugged monster hunter, you refused to part from him, following the latter like a lost puppy.

“I’m not much of a fighter.. b-but watch this!”

On cue, you punched the nearest tree, cracking it and making a sizable hole. You looked back proudly towards Trevor; except when you tried to pull your hand out, you were having difficulty.

“Ah. It’s stuck.”

Trevor couldn’t help but chuckle, walking away, clearly amused with your display of power. You pulled harder, “Hold on! Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary..” you muttered the last part while chasing after him. Despite being a creature of the night, the world and its evils still frightened you.

At the sound of a branch snapping, you yelped, grabbing a piece of Trevor’s cloak for security.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Belmont when you punched a head clean off, practically decapitating one of the attackers. He might have been seriously injured if you had not intervened.

“Trevor.”

Gazing at you under the moonlight, he saw the hunger in your eyes as you held a man whom was still alive but struggling. His neck was exposed. Even so, you waited.

The Belmont turned away, giving you privacy to feed.

He knew that by allowing you to live, you would continue to take blood from others. Normally he wouldn’t feel soft towards a monster but whenever he thought of you, it was different.

His guilt was lessened when you drank from scum. Before putting the lives of innocents in danger, he would offer his own.

“Are you done?”

The corpse of the man was dropped unceremoniously as you joined Trevor, a light skip to your step.

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Despite adopting a nighttime lifestyle, Trevor was still human and had to conduct business during daylight hours.

He’d left your lodgings, which was an abandoned cottage, for a while. Nobody really passed through there anyway, so he thought you were safe. Worst came to worse, you could handle yourself. But as your self proclaimed protector, Trevor felt uneasy leaving you alone.

Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut because when he arrived, the door was wide open with dirty footprints leading in all the way to your coffin.

Two men had opened it—staring at the peaceful expression on your face, unaware that they were here to end you. To them it was obvious what you were. Even with that frilly white dress that made you look somewhat angelic, they couldn’t be fooled. As they raised their weapons to strike, Trevor used his whip. His sudden entrance startled them but it gave you the chance to wake up.

Eyes snapping open, you jumped onto the other man, taking both of you to the ground. His screams echoed shortly as you tore into his throat. The remaining one had no chance; Trevor left the room, closing the door on his way out, killing the light that entered and cutting off the way to escape.

Left alone with your prey, a smile crept up your face.

When you opened the door again, the dress which decorated your body was now stained red. There was hardly a clean piece on the material. Even so, you greeted Trevor with a hug.

“Trevor..”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“M-me too..”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Forty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“You should retire.”

“Belmonts don’t retire. The only rest they get is when they’re dead.”

“Well I don’t want you to die.”

“I have to, someday.”

“No you don’t.”

It’s been like this for the past few years; Trevor was sixty now. His body didn’t look that of an aging man, but the expression on his face did. He’d seen too much and as time passed, it was harder to fight monsters by himself.

Of course you’d noticed that and suggested turning him. It was an ongoing discussion; Trevor didn’t fancy the idea of living an eternal life but the thought of leaving this earth without you was disheartening. He didn’t say it but the situation tore him apart.

There was also the fact that he was too old for you; forty years to be exact. You’d maintained your youth, looking lovely as ever. His doubts were shot down when you immediately said that you didn’t care about that.

“I just want you.”

He always kept pushing the conversation away and you were patient. Trevor supposed that you could’ve taken him by force if you wanted and when he inquired, you told him it would be like violating him, robbing him of the choice you were never given.

As understanding as you were; the time would come for him to decide and confront you about it.

That time was now.

He should have been more careful, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Trevor watched as the sun slowly descended. Would you make it here before he passed? Would he die without seeing you one last time?

When you woke night had already fallen. Trevor wasn’t home; he’d been late plenty of times before but this occasion felt different.

Upon stepping outside, the smell of blood hit you. It reeked, staining the very air. You immediately recognized the source—how could you not? You’d fed from Trevor countless times.

Rushing in that direction, you prayed to whatever entity was listening to keep Trevor safe. The world and its gods could condemn you, but not him.

Not him.

You found him sprawled on a big rock, a creature hovering over his crumpled figure. Without thinking, you tore it to pieces. Blood rained as his mangled body flew to various parts of the forest.

“Trevor!!!”

He let out a groan, which would’ve made you sigh in relief but his visible injuries proved otherwise. You were no doctor and even if you could carry him into town, it would be too late. There was no other option. If you didn’t do anything, you might lose him.

“Trevor. Let me do it.”

Still conscious enough to reply, “I don’t want to become—”

“A monster?”

“I cannot become what I sought to destroy..”

Tears escaped your eyes, blurring the image of the person whom you treasure most. “Please.. please please please..! Don’t leave me alone!”

You begged, knowing it was unfair to pressure him in such way but you couldn’t bare the thought of existing if he wasn’t present. He was your salvation, your companion…your world. And yet, he was being robbed from you.

So soon… It’s too soon!

You always imagined Trevor living well into old age, spending the remainder of his life with you, being happy. He was destined to die peacefully, not like this. Not in this shitty place, by the hands of a shitty monster!

“I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Grabbing his hands, you lowered your forehead on them, crying your heart out. It was unfair. Life was unfair.

“Kiss me.”

Despite the pain that he was in, Trevor found it in himself to smile. For you. “Kiss me one last time.” Tears dropped slowly as you heard him. Shaking your head; you couldn’t kill him.

“I want it to be you..”

His words struck a chord.

Lifting him by the neck in a gentle manner, you pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his carotid. As you bit into his familiar skin once more, your other hand caressed him, trying to make this goodbye as painless as possible.

With every sip you took, tears fell down.

I love you! I love you! I love you!

His warm hand turned cold.

You held him in your arms like he once did to you, with the outmost care, with the love he deserved.

Since Trevor didn’t say where he wanted his body to be buried, you chose the nicest spot. It was a secluded place where it wouldn’t be dug up by animals or people—but not so hidden either.

Whilst cleaning the blood that covered his body and face, you found a piece of cloth with writing on it. Staring at it, you recognized the Belmont insignia. Turning the material, you managed to read the words…

Take this. Go to Alucard.

Trevor must’ve written that in his final moments; probably in case he didn’t make it before you arrived. The letters were sloppy because of the blood but you could read it well.

Clutching it to your chest, you sobbed until the light of day began to burn. For a moment you wished to stay there and disappear. Perhaps you could join Trevor.

Together even in death..

─── ☾☼☽ ───

The journey was rather long.

Looming in all its glory, Castle Dracula. You looked at the last piece of your beloved, holding it tighter in your hand.

“Okay. Let’s meet this Alucard.”

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

Chispas Does a Meta, Pt. II

Let’s Build a Fire & Make Speeches!

Welcome back, my captive audience. If you have no idea how you got here or what I’m talking about, might I recommend going back to Part I where I sing a classic Lead Belly tune and introduce the topic of the day: 

Ritual Sacrifice.

I’ve already introduced the lambs and given some context leading up to their impending deaths (again, we’re looking at Daenerys X, AGOT & Jon III, ADWD).

Now, let’s gather some kindling, eh?

You Can’t Burn Someone Alive Without Gathering a few Sticks...unless you have dragons. But Dany only has eggs (and now I somehow want to morph this into a Succession joke about making an omelette...and this is why I can’t be trusted to write metas)

Let’s check in with Dany X.  

Her foragers returned with gnarled cottonwoods, purple brush, sheaves of brown grass. They took the two straightest trees, hacked the limbs and branches from them, skinned off their bark, and split them, laying the logs in a square. Its center they filled with straw, brush, bark shavings, and bundles of dry grass.

That’s a solid base, but I’m just looking for something extra. Some flair, if you will.

Over the carcass of the horse, they built a platform of hewn logs; trunks of smaller trees and limbs from the greater, and the thickest straightest branches they could find. They laid the wood east to west, from sunrise to sunset. On the platform they piled Khal Drogo’s treasures: his great tent, his painted vests, his saddles and harness, the whip his father had given him when he came to manhood, the arakh he had used to slay Khal Ogo and his son, a mighty dragonbone bow.

Now we’re getting somewhere. Anything more?

The third level of the platform was woven of branches no thicker than a finger, and covered with dry leaves and twigs. They laid them north to south, from ice to fire, and piled them high with soft cushions and sleeping silks.

Very posh. I’m satisfied. Oh, we’re not done yet? You know we have another fire to get to, right? You don’t care? Fine, but make it worth my time.

Afterward, Dany sent them all away, so she might prepare Khal Drogo for his final ride into the night lands. She washed his body clean and brushed and oiled his hair, running her fingers through it for the last time, feeling the weight of it, remembering the first time she had touched it, the night of their wedding ride. His hair had never been cut. How many men could die with their hair uncut? She buried her face in it and inhaled the dark fragrance of the oils. He smelled like grass and warm earth, like smoke and semen and horses. He smelled like Drogo. Forgive me, sun of my life, she thought. Forgive me for all I have done and all I must do. I paid the price, my star, but it was too high, too high . . .

Dany braided his hair and slid the silver rings onto his mustache and hung his bells one by one. So many bells, gold and silver and bronze. Bells so his enemies would hear him coming and grow weak with fear. She dressed him in horsehair leggings and high boots, buckling a belt heavy with gold and silver medallions about his waist. Over his scarred chest she slipped a painted vest, old and faded, the one Drogo had loved best. For herself she chose loose sandsilk trousers, sandals that laced halfway up her legs, and a vest like Drogo’s.

The sun was going down when she called them back to carry his body to the pyre. The Dothraki watched in silence as Jhogo and Aggo bore him from the tent. Dany walked behind them. They laid him down on his cushions and silks, his head toward the Mother of Mountains far to the northeast.

So, this is actually a very tender last rites for Dany’s deceased husband...warmongering rapist though he may be. Alas, the questionable choice to say he smelled like semen, kind of ruins the moment.

Okay, is that it? NO? What else is there? Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Silly me. The fucking eggs.

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs. When she kissed him for the last time, Dany could taste the sweetness of the oil on his lips.

I get it, Dany. Go big or go home.

Alright, Jon III. You have some competition. Are you up for the challenge? Hit me with your best shot. 

The queen’s men had made it from the trees of the haunted forest, from saplings and supple branches, pine boughs sticky with sap, and the bone-white fingers of the weirwoods. They’d bent them and twisted them around and through each other to weave a wooden lattice, then hung it high above a deep pit filled with logs, leaves, and kindling.

Okay. What else?

Two queen’s men brought forth the Horn of Joramun, black and banded with old gold, eight feet long from end to end. Runes were carved into the golden bands, the writing of the First Men. Joramun had died thousands of years ago, but Mance had found his grave beneath a glacier, high up in the Frostfangs. And Joramun blew the Horn of Winter, and woke giants from the earth. Ygritte had told Jon that Mance never found the horn. She lied, or else Mance kept it secret even from his own

So, a wooden cage and a horn of dubious origin. Is that all you’ve got?

It is.

Okay everyone, I’m starting to suspect Jon III of phoning this murder in. 

Dany X : 1/Jon III: 0.

Let’s Introduce our Masters of Ceremonies

How rude of me. I introduced the muderees in Part I, before introducing the murderers. I have no manners. 

Well, on one hand we have: Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms (disputed claim), (not yet) the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, (not yet) the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains (disputed claim)

On the other hand, we have Jon Sn-aaaP! He doesn’t do the murder, guys! He’s Jon “beet counter” Snow. He doesn’t burn people alive.

That’s Mel...It’s Melisandre of Asshai doing the honor tonight, kids, on behalf of Stannis Baratheon, the First of His Name, The King in the Narrow Sea (disputed claim), The King of the Painted Table (disputed claim), the dark lord (who the fuck calls him this? I really want to know who stuck this Harry Potter reference into asoiaf), The King of Dragonstone (disputed claim), The King at the Wall (eh...the Night’s Watch really rolls over on this), Azor Ahai reborn/come again (disputed claim), the prince who was promised (disputed claim).

Holy shit. That is way too many titles for an incest baby and a middle child. I’m calling this round a draw. No points awarded.

(If anything, Jon has dipped into the negative, as he doesn’t even get to do the murder in his own chapter. Weak.)

Moving on.

The Guest list

Who are the lucky few who got tickets to such exclusive events? I’m so jelly. I haven’t even been to the movie theater since early 2020.

With that collar-popping pyre, Dany was prepared to perform to a sold out stadium, but because of some backstabbing opportunistic dudebro, Ko Pono, who is suddenly fancying himself a khal, she’s dealing with some last hours of the Fyre-Festival fallout bullshit, after that punk took off with most of Drogo’s khalasar to party down at the Dothraki version of Coachella.

Time to turn this shit-pile into Burning (wo)Man, Dany. (I know. I’m insufferable. I’m really sorry, everyone. I told you someone else should write this.)

“The Dothraki follow only the strong,” Ser Jorah said. “I am sorry, my princess. There was no way to hold them. Ko Pono left first, naming himself Khal Pono, and many followed him. Jhaqo was not long to do the same. The rest slipped away night by night, in large bands and small. There are a dozen new khalasars on the Dothraki sea, where once there was only Drogo’s.”

Disappointing, but who do we have left? There has to be an influencer or two who would be willing to tweet about this, right? RIGHT?

“The old remain,” said Aggo. “The frightened, the weak, and the sick. And we who swore. We remain.” “They took Khal Drogo’s herds, Khaleesi,” Rakharo said. “We were too few to stop them. It is the right of the strong to take from the weak. They took many slaves as well, the khal’s and yours, yet they left some few.

Alright, so it’s a sad turnout for Dany. How are things up at Castle Black?

A thousand captives watched through the wooden bars of their stockade as the horn was lifted high. All were ragged and half-starved. Wildlings, the Seven Kingdoms called them; they named themselves the free folk. They looked neither wild nor free—only hungry, frightened, numb.

Eeek...pretty dismal, folks. Anyone else here?

The king’s eyes were blue bruises, sunk deep in a hollow face. He wore grey plate, a fur-trimmed cloak of cloth-of-gold flowing from his broad shoulders. His breastplate had a flaming heart inlaid above his own. Girding his brows was a red-gold crown with points like twisting flames. Val stood beside him, tall and fair. They had crowned her with a simple circlet of dark bronze, yet she looked more regal in bronze than Stannis did in gold. Her eyes were grey and fearless, unflinching. Beneath an ermine cloak, she wore white and gold. Her honey-blond hair had been done up in a thick braid that hung over her right shoulder to her waist. The chill in the air had put color in her cheeks.

A royal, albeit one whose eyes are described as bruises (that can’t be good), and a hot girl in gold (with honey hair). +2 for Jon III. Anyone else?

Jon watched unblinking. He dare not appear squeamish before his brothers.

Stop breaking my heart. Also, I don’t have time to talk about you...yet. And you aren’t supposed to be relegated to the crowd in your own chapter, Jon. It’s almost like you aren’t even an important character. Only weaklings like Sansa are relegated to passive, observant roles in their own POVs. Jeeze. Did you at least bring any of your bros to the event?

He had ordered out two hundred men, more than half the garrison of Castle Black. Mounted in solemn sable ranks with tall spears in hand, they had drawn up their hoods to shadow their faces … and hide the fact that so many were greybeards and green boys.

Docked a point for having to hide your faces, boys.

Where does this leave us? Oh yeah. Let’s tally up.

Dany X: 1: Jon III: 0

Pour the champagne and let’s all raise a glass for...

The Speeches! (or the best time to sneak out for a cigarette at most weddings)

Let’s remember, Dany is coming off a few major losses. Before her big speech, she has a few tête-à-têtes first. She needs to test out her material before her big act.  

With Aggo:

Aggo would have added the weapons Drogo’s bloodriders had given Dany for bride gifts as well, but she forbade it. “Those are mine,”she told him, “and I mean to keep them.”

Can’t let a good weapon go to waste, amiright? Human life on the other hand…

With Jorah:

“Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the last blood of House Targaryen. Whatever was his is

mine now.”

Maybe, she does need to workshop this shit in Essos for a while. Yikes. -1

Everybody else:

“You will be my khalasar,” she told them. “I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives.” The black eyes watched her, wary, expressionless. “I see the children, women, the wrinkled faces of the aged. I was a child yesterday. Today I am a woman. Tomorrow I will be old. To each of you I say, give me your hands and your hearts, and there will always be a place for you.”

That’s actually sweet. +1 

I wonder how that will work out for them? (No spoilers, guys! Just kidding. I’ve read canon and fanon and sooooooo many bad takes. Spoil away). In the meantime, let’s check in with the last two people Dany “saved”.

First up, is Eroeh, “the timid girl Dany had rescued outside the mud walls of the Lamb Men.”

Insider tip. When Dany says “rescued”, what she reall means is that she took the girl in as a personal slave after her husband’s thugs gang-raped her...for the Iron Throne...look, I’m confused too. But still, it’s a nice little trick to keep someone loyal. Eroeh only got slapped a little by her “savior”, but she knew from experience it could have been so much worse.

Eroeh stared fearfully at Drogo where he lay.

“He dies,” she whispered. Dany slapped her. “The khal cannot die. He is the father of the stallion who mounts the world. His hair has never been cut. He still wears the bells his father gave him.”

But then Dany went into labor at the most inconvenient time, and Eroeh...well, let’s see, what happened to her:

“Eroeh?” asked Dany, remembering the frightened child she had saved outside the city of the Lamb Men.

“Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo’s bloodrider now,” said Jhogo. “He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat.”

Okay, Chispas, that was horrible. I’m truly sorry that we had to re-examine that scene. But what about the second person Dany saved? Surely they had a better fate?

That was Mirri.  Our blood sacrifice, remember? Keep up!

Okay, -2 for Dany for making promises she’s already proven unable to keep. Still, It can only go up for her from here, right? Well...we’ll get back to that, later.

Right now, it’s time for our second orator to take the stage.

Melisandre only has “years beyond count” on Dany, so it’s almost an unfair competition. And she has the wind behind her back. Her man, Stanny, finally won a battle… never mind that it was against a bunch of refugees, during a supposed armistice. What does our Lady Red have to say?

Beneath the weeping Wall, Lady Melisandre raised her pale white hands. “We all must choose,” she proclaimed. “Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same.” Her voice made Jon Snow think of anise and nutmeg and cloves. She stood at the king’s side on a wooden scaffold raised above the pit. “We choose light or we choose darkness. We choose good or we choose evil. We choose the true god or the false.”

Strong start. Her voice somehow sounds like it smells good. +1

“If the Wall falls, night falls as well, the long night that never ends. It must not happen, will not happen! The Lord of Light has seen his children in their peril and sent a champion to them, Azor Ahai reborn.”

Look folks, we’ve got a professional hype-man in the house! +1

“FREE FOLK!” cried Melisandre. “Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness!”

ALL CAPS means she knows how to project. +1 

And then boom. She just jumps right into the fire (figuratively...not literally. When I make this comment again later, with Dany, I will mean literally)...but I’m not ready for fire-play just yet. Does Mel have anything else to say?

“The Lord of Light made the sun and moon and stars to light our way, and gave us fire to keep the night at bay,” Melisandre told the wildlings. “None can withstand his flames.”

“None can withstand his flames,” the queen’s men echoed.

Mel has backup singers. Dany didn’t. +2 points to Mel.

Look, Mel had an unfair advantage. She’s a professional. She’s been on tour before. She has a few platinum records under her belt. Dany is the ingenue, who doesn’t even have her first single out. Still, this is a competition. Points must be tallied. 

But wait, this is a Jon chapter. We can’t award him points, when Mel was doing all the work. In fact, I’m docking him a point. 

Dany X: -1/Jon III: -1

It’s neck and neck, and they’re both under water, but at least Dany is putting her back into it. I’m not impressed with Jon. He is giving me real mediocre white man vibes, so far. It’s almost like he’s not into ritual sacrifice....which would be totally lame, right? 

I know the rest of you are all itching for the murder part, but you’ll have to wait for Part III, when we’ll really dig into the charred meat of the matter.

I apologize for everything, but regret nothing.

[anika-ann]

Attached: The One Word

The Three Times Steve Didn’t Get to Hear the One Word He Wanted and the One Time He Did

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 7700 👀

Summary: In which Steve really, really wants to ask you the question, but the odds are always against him – absurdly so. Maybe it’s fate and he shouldn’t ask. Or maybe the universe just hates him and punishes him for tainting a girl like you and wanting you all for himself officially.

Warnings: lots of swearing, crack-ish, briefest smut so 18+ only please, sickness and fluff

A/N: I say this to you, my friends – I do not at all envy men in a heterosexual relationship for being expected to pop the question. I would chicken out every time, I’m sure of it. Enjoy!

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve liked to think important things through. He liked planning. He liked to have all the facts and view things from different angles before making a decision.

Therefore, wanting to marry you was something he was perfectly certain of and two months after he received your mother’s blessings – two months of slowly reducing costs, preparing to lower incomes, not that they had ever been glorious ever –, Steve had a feeling that the time was finally right and that he was ready to pop the question. He was.

The only problem was that the universe started plotting against him.

Big time.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

1.

Palmeri was a relatively new restaurant, but quickly gaining reputation. Steve had heard Carol talking about taking her girlfriend there for the fun of trying a new spot and getting a taste of fancy Italian. Clearly that had a good time; the moment he learned, he started considering it. Two days later, he had to make a reservation for a week later, because the word of the delicious food travelled fast.

That was fine with him, even if he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin before the date finally arrived. Still, he advertised the fact to you that he would like to celebrate your early wrapped up exams already foreshadowing that you would obviously slayed the one you were supposed to have a day prior Friday.

When you heard the name of the restaurant, your eyes twinkled like fairy lights, a squeal of delight escaping your lips before they swiftly found his to kiss him crazy. Steve’s heart thundered in his chest as you ran off back to your books with newly-found motivation, his nerves mingling with the satisfaction that you appreciated his idea – even if you couldn’t have no clue about what he was about to do.

He could only hope that you’d be as delighted at him sinking to one knee.

But he would have to get out of this fucking interfaculty meeting FIRST!

“Seeing as the satisfaction of the students apparently took a nose dive according to the university poll last month…” Fury continued rambling, his serious and mildly snarky voice carrying through the conference room, as if mocking Steve who anxiously eyed the clock, again.

The reservation was for seven thirty.

It was five to seven.

Half an hour ago, Steve hated the idea of not taking a shower and looking his absolute best while proposing to you.

Now? Every option looked better than this. He would arrive to the restaurant all sweaty and catching his breath if he took off right this moment. And even that seemed impossible; president Fury, that son of a bitch, was nowhere close to ending the meeting.

51 weeks. 51 Fridays Fury could have called the meeting.

Nope, that bastard picked this one, the one Friday Steve was planning on sweeping you off your feet and asking you to be his for the rest of your lives.

Fucking asshole.

“Got anything to add, Professor Rogers?” a gruff voice asked him and Steve jumped in his chair and nearly dropped the phone he was pulling out of his pocket to text you with his deepest regrets – but he had to, otherwise you’d already be on your way.

Best if he saved you the embarrassment; best if you stayed home at least, all dolled up and pretty and smiling for him to show off.

Goddammit fuck.

Steve’s eyes snapped to Fury, meeting a glare that seemed even sterner with only one functioning eye.

Steve gritted his teeth and determinedly gripping his phone.

“No,” he shot back, biting his cheek when Fury’s eyebrow rose at his snappy tone. “I mean… I need to make a phone call. If you’d excuse me, it will be just a minute.”

Likely story. He would have to be apologizing for at least three minutes straight and then crawl on his knees when he finally got back home; not because you’d be so unforgiving and angry, but because it would be the right thing to do after disappointing your precious heart.

He was about to make you sad. He fucking hated making you sad.

“Make it three tops,” the president grumbled, but luckily didn’t pry what was so important for him to leave the room.

“Stevie!” your bright voice greeted him from the speaker and Steve’s heart seized in his chest, his fist automatically clenching in anger. He was about to crush you because of a dumb-ass useless meeting. He brought the fist to his mouth to stop himself from greeting you equally delighted way and fleeting the university grounds. “I’m just about to take off! I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it. Did Fury give you a hard time? … Steve?”

Steve, much to his horror, found his eyes prickling with tears of frustration as his name on your lips sounded suddenly unsure.

Fuck. This.

“Hey babygirl,” he said finally and the roughness of his voice must have been everything you needed to hear to understand.

“You can’t make it.”

Steve wanted to tear his hair out at the defeat in your voice. Talk about a nose dive of your mood.  He was gonna fucking scream.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered instead, the apology so pathetic in comparison to what he wanted to say.

But that was the irony – you couldn’t even begin to guess how much it sucked for the two of you to not being able to go to the damn Palmeri. You didn’t know the main tragedy, only a part of it. You didn’t know he had been about to propose.

Silence stretched between the two of you and Steve tilted his head back, blinking against the sting in his eyes, his stomach sinking to his feet.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed eventually, sounding as if you were trying to convince him as much as yourself.

Steve could imagine precisely the disappointment on your face, the fall of your expression, pretty features no doubt having been accented by make-up just the right amount twisting. He could see clearly how your lips made for smiles turned downward, lower lip maybe even trembling a bit.

Steve was gonna murder Fury.

“But it is. I’m so sorry, I know how excited you were and so was I and— I’m just really sorry.”

“I know, Steve,” you breathed out weakly and he could hear the attempt of a smile in your next words. “Come home soon, yeah? I’ll wait for you.”

Steve’s heart grew in size so rapidly it actually hurt.

“I love you, sweetheart. I know--- I know you might not wanna hear it now and that it doesn’t mean much, but I really do,” he creaked.

“It does. Bye, Steve.”

Steve’s fingers clutched at the phone, eyes falling shut in defeat.

You were nice about it, sure, but the fact that you didn’t say I love you back didn’t escape him as didn’t the switch from Stevie to Steve; the subtle hints sat heavily in his gut as he returned to the room.

He met Bucky’s compassionate gaze – of course Buck knew about why Steve was distracted during the assembly – and quickly looked away, once again excusing himself for the interruption even if there was nothing sincere about his words.

His chest ached for the rest of the meeting – and would for the rest of the night.

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He did not come home soon – in fact, it was nearing eleven when he finally opened the door, trying to make no sound when he found the apartment plunged into dark. He grimaced, jaw clenching; you were already asleep.

A fresh surge of anger shot into his veins; the university hated him, he was certain of it – and the other way around. He had missed his shot because of a meeting that was literally about nothing. Fuck his life.

He grumbled, the only sound he allowed himself to make when moving around the apartment, switching the dimmest light he could as not to wake you – because disappointing you was enough, the least he could do was not to disturb your sleep.

Frustrated, tired and hungry, he tiptoed to the kitchen to grab a bite. He was starving and even though he was exhausted and craved nothing but to wrap his arms around you and sink into the cushions, he knew hunger would wake him up a few hours later if he went to bed with an empty stomach.

Upon opening the fridge, a surprise welcomed him; a ham & cheese sandwich ready on a plate, a small Tupperware box with pieces of tomatoes and cucumber on side, a sticky note simply reading ‘Stevie’.

His breath got stuck in his throat, heart hammering in his ribcage – that was how moved he was by your gesture. He knew that you must have been as upset as you had been excited to have the fancy dinner with him, but here you were, pushing your sorrows and anger aside and preparing him food, a possible olive branch.

The sandwich was nothing fancy by any means; but God, Steve loved you just a little bit more at that moment for he didn’t have to move a finger to eat so late and you even took care to set his vegetables aside, because you knew how much he hated when the bread got squishy with the juice.  

Gratefully biting into his late-night meal, Steve swore to himself he would spend the rest of his life spoiling you rotten.

When he finally got to cautiously cuddle you from behind – eyeing the absolutely stunning dress you were supposed to wear hanging outside the closet as if there to mock him – you stirred at the dip of the mattress.

Lazily blinking your eyes open, you welcomed him with a raspy hey and he had a half mind to just take the ring from the safety of its velvet box and slip it on your finger right there.

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered, tentatively wrapping his arm around your midsection, unsure if he wasn’t in disgrace after all. You just hummed and rolled over to face him, burying your face in his chest, heavy limbs wrapping around him as if you were an octopus – the most adorable, precious, beautiful and perfect octopus in the world. His octopus. “I love you so much. I promise to make it up to you.”

“Uh-huh. Looking forward to it. Now sleep,” you mumbled to Steve’s sleepshirt, half-grumpy half-sounding as if not caring for what he was saying at all, causing him to feel warm all over.

Oh he was so going to show you just how he could make it up to you. He would marry the shit out of you.

Just you wait.

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2.

Because of a water incident, Palmeri closed three days after Steve’s first failed attempt – and assumptions were that it would remain so for a month, because they needed to redecorate.

That meant a new plan for Steve, because he could not wait that long. Out of question. He needed to hear you say yes as soon as possible. Yesterday had been too late.

So, he asked Sam for a recommendation – casually, he believed – and somehow ended up with the man looking at him for a few seconds before realization dawned on his face.

“Oooooh, I see how it is! Need something real nice, huh?” Sam whistled, a teasing grin on his face as he patted Steve’s shoulder for support. “Relax, I gotcha, man. All you need; cosy atmosphere, but classy, white table cloths and everything. The right place to take her to in order to butter her up and make her all putty.”

Steve didn’t manage to quite hide his embarrassment at being so obvious, but he knew that Sam was a friend and all his shit-talking was good-natured, always knowing where the boundaries were; he wasn’t a counsellor for nothing.

And Steve had to give it to him – the place he recommended was just what he promised it would be and exactly what Steve needed.

You were all smiles and some giggles, little tipsy on the second glass of the wine, eyes shining in the dim lights, somehow lighting up more whenever you caught him staring at you. It was the perfect display of all the good things you were, ones he adored about you, the light of his life and gazing at him as if he was yours too.

Downing some of the liquid courage himself and with you so gorgeously giddy, Steve felt his confidence building up during the night and was just about ready to get on one knee once you finished your shared dessert.

“This is good!” you gushed, digging the fork if into the cake to get another bite and Steve grinned, unable to help himself as he agreed.

“Uh-huh, sweet. But not as sweet as you.”

You stopped mid-chew, eyes meeting his and he felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at such cheesy comment.

You swallowed, gaze still fixed on him as he busied himself with the sweet treat, and then you chuckled, causing his face to turn entirely red.

“You, Steve Rogers, are so corny sometimes,” you mocked him lightly, but when he looked up, sheepish and with his confidence bruised, he found you all starry-eyed still, watching him adoringly as if he hung the moon – and he would, for you – and Steve felt himself settle again. “But I still love you. Maybe even more for that.”

It was a wonderful opening, things really going his way – but he hesitated a second too long, like an idiot, and the next thing he knew, a string quartet, a damn string quartet, walked straight to the elderly couple two tables over, one of the group congratulating them to their thirtieth anniversary and at that moment…

Well. At that moment, Steve really fucking hated them.

Who fucking cared they were a sweet elderly couple?! Steve could only dream about you two becoming them one day as of now, because they ruined just another of his fucking shots!

He couldn’t believe that he missed his window again.

And what more, you cooed under your breath, a silent aww falling from your lips and Steve knew that anything less than a string quartet accompanying a marriage proposal when delivered in a restaurant was a no-go.

So scratch that one off the list.

All guests clapped their hands, more of awws coming from different directions and you proceeded to take his hand, gentle fingers stroking over his knuckles and Steve knew one thing with absolute certainty; he needed to propose tonight otherwise he might burst.

At home then, he would ask you at home. Who even wanted something as cliché and public as he had planned? Lame. You were a private pair, some people still judged you upon seeing you together; a little intimate proposal in your home after a fancy sweet dinner would be just the thing.

Steve just had to figure how exactly and at what moment to ask. He’d be fine. You’d say yes. Right?

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts and plans that he barely noticed you growing skittish during the taxi ride, but he certainly noticed when you started practically jumping by his side as he was unlocking the door to your apartment, confused by your antics.

The second Steve opened it and stepped inside, he found himself being shoved back-first towards a wall, your hands on his chest, sliding up and down his coat and blindly undoing the buttons as your mouth assaulted his, a soft mewl vibrating against his lips, wandering hands appreciative when they slipped under the lapels of his coat and jacket.

Steve’s head spun at the display of desire, a sudden pleasant dizziness overtaking his body, all rational thoughts vaporizing as you rocked against his crotch, his cock twitching in excitement at the friction and at the way his tongue had to fight against yours. His brain grew foggy at the faint taste of wine and the cake you had shared, his hands automatically grabbing your waist to keep you close, fingers squeezing your hips and ass to urge you closer when he rolled his hips against yours, eliciting needy moans from your lips-

You withdrew for just a second to catch your breath, lips skimming over his jaw, revelling at the feel of his beard on your skin he knew you loved, hasty words whispered into his flesh.

“Dammit, Steve, you look so fucking hot in this suit--- oh Stevie,” you whimpered when his hands slipped under your backside to tease your clothed weeping core, the sensation setting his blood on fire, the delicious friction and your dirty mouth everything that mattered in the world. “Let me suck you off-“

Steve nearly choked on his own spit upon hearing that, almost losing his balance with his legs turning into jelly and all his blood rushing into his dick.

Yeah, Steve might be a professor but he was a simple guy.

When his girl, in those stunning hot as hell dress begged him to let her get on her knees to blow his dick and his mind, he really couldn’t find himself refusing, the coil in his belly searing hot by the time you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, so pretty, doe-eyed, lips kiss-swollen and willing and so fucking devilish as you freed his cock and licked the drop of precum already forming there.

“Fuck, babygirl, what’s gotten into you-“ was all he managed to ask before all he could think off was the velvety heat of your mouth, taking him all in and making him see stars, the jewellery box in the pocket of his coat long forgotten.

And fuck was also his first coherent thought in the morning, when he realized that once again, the proposal attempt ended up being an utter failure.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

3.

Steve had established after his two and half failed proposals that he wouldn’t make any reservations in some dumb restaurant. Just no. Privacy it would be; something personal, accompanied with a simple and yet big enough gesture, him doing something just for you, following with words of you being his world or something.

Yeah.

And for once, it seemed that the universe that had seemed to hate him, finally started playing in his favour.

The weather was going crazy, sun and spring in a middle of February and Steve had a revelation – he was going to take you out for a picnic. It was going to be perfect; he’d take you outside the city, find a quiet corner, just you and him, nothing in your way and more importantly, in his way to pop the question.

Steve was certain that you’d prefer this to anything else anyway, loving when he made an effort to create something for you. He still remembered when you first discovered he enjoyed drawing and you practically melted into a puddle when you found drawings of yourself too, allegedly displaying you prettier than you were – as if.

So, picnic it was.

Except on Friday, the day before THE DAY, Steve woke up with a splitting headache, his whole body hurting, nose full and lungs as if stuffed with cotton wool. He blamed the crazy weather, but it didn’t really matter where this sickness came from – he felt like shit.

He groaned and downright punched the alarm on his phone, startling you awake.

With bleary gaze, he registered you rolling over in his arms, squirming at him sleepily as he let his eyelids slip shut again.

“Steve, hun, are you okay?” you asked him softly, voice husky as he loved to hear it when you woke up, too adorable for him to keep his hands off you.

He sure as fuck wasn’t thinking about sweet and filthy morning loving now; he would have coughed out his lungs if he tried to move too much and some parts of him might fall off judging by how much everything hurt.

“Yeah,” he rasped, throat scratchy at the single word and as if from a distance, he heard a noise of sympathy, your palm instantly finding his forehead, gentle touch soothing against his burning skin.

“You’re absolutely not okay. Stevie, you’re burning up,” you whispered compassionately and Steve blinked his eyes open, the little light in the room causing him to snap them close again immediately. Ouch.

“Fuck my liiiiife,” he groaned, prolonging the last syllable, which proved to be a wrong thing to do, sending him into a couching fit due to his scratchy throat.

Your hands roamed his shoulders and back as he rolled over to his side from you, hoping to suck in some air to continue coughing.

“Oh Stevie, I’m sorry. I’ll bring you some medicine when I’m back from school, yeah? And I’ll make some soup,” you assured him kindly, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before your pleasant warmth disappeared, leaving him too cold and hot at the same time.

Seriously. FUCK HIS LIFE.

Grunting, he fell to his back, exhausted by one stupid coughing fit, whole body heavy; and he must have fallen asleep too, because the next thing he knew, soft lips were touching his forehead, tender fingers brushing messy strands of hair away. He stirred, forcing his eyes open to be greeted by a sight of that angelic face of yours, complete with a halo of light around you.

“I already called Bucky. He’ll sort out your classes today, alright? There’s a tea on your nightstand along with some last Tylenol we have.”

Steve squinted in the direction of the piece of furniture you mentioned and sure enough, there it was, everything you said it would.

What a pretty dutiful nurse you were. God, he loved you.

As he eyed you then, deep sense of longing settled in his swimming stomach, more so as he didn’t miss the gorgeous thermo leggings and long sweater hugging your figure, reaching your mid-thighs.

All Steve wanted was to pull you back to him so he had a human furnace in bed with him, the soothing smell of your shampoo to comfort him – even though he probably wouldn’t be able to smell it. But his hands would still be able to explore your delicious body, grope and hold it close to his and you could maybe ramble about everything and anything, lulling him to sleep.

But no, you were leaving to school, leaving him alone in the apartment.

Just him, himself and his fucking flu.

He eyed you wistfully, lips pursed at your concerned expression.

“When you’ll be back?”

The wrinkle between your brows smoothened, a smile playing in the corner of your mouth.

“I have class until eleven. I see what I can do. I’m gonna have to hit the pharmacy and make some shopping,” you explained patiently, casing Steve to groan. Too long. So so long… Your smile widened, another kiss landing on his temple this time. “But I’ll be back before you know it. Get some rest, Professor Rogers.”

Your teasing tone made him growl, the action effectively sending him into another coughing fit and through glassy eyes, he saw you disappear from the room with one last glance over your shoulder.

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in deeply – oh, the delicious air – and then buried himself in the covers, praying that a decent sleep would make him feel better.

It didn’t, not quite. What did make him feel much better was the Tylenol and the sirup you brought along.

The absolute best was when you were there for him to cuddle you to sleep in the evening; somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was being a giant baby and was being utterly ridiculous, but God help him, this was all he needed the whole day.

He sighed blissfully as he hugged your midsection while you were sitting propped on the back-rest, soft light from the nightlamp illuminating the pages of the book you were reading. You were warmth, the gentle kind and Steve felt you seeping into him, fingers of one hand raking through his hair; he felt himself getting high on your loving care and cough sirup.

“I love having you here,” he muttered into the fabric of your pyjama, feeling you shift in your position a little, probably as you looked at him.

“Yeah?” you asked, sounding as if you were smiling, maybe even laughing at him; but he couldn’t care less, already drifting off to sleep, just content to have you.

“You’re warm and nice… and the prettiest nurse. And I love you. You’re my everything.”

“Oh Stevie,” you cooed sweetly, kissing the crown of his head and he preened at the sensation, smiling lazily. “I love you too.”

His heart skipped a beat as he nuzzled into your flesh and heard you gently toss the book away, your other hand now caressing his cheek.

“Yeah? Will you always be here? I want you to always be with me,” he admitted sheepishly, drawing a soft giggle and earning a kiss on his forehead.

“God, you’re adorable like this…”

Steve grunted, discontent with your reaction. “Not an answer.”

“I’ll always be here if you want me to, Stevie,” you answered dutifully, causing warmth fill his chest even if your body was shaking with hushed laughter; he felt it, but didn’t care. For your words however, he did; phew, as if he ever wanted something else, as if you had the right to question that!

He really needed to propose soon… just not tomorrow. You’d probably say no if he asked you, blaming his request on the fever. Naively.

“I wanna,” he mumbled, trying to squeeze you tighter. “Mine. My pretty girl. My babygirl. Forever.”

“Forever is a long time,” you noted, smile once again lacing your voice, along with an emotion, oh so soft one, he didn’t have the capacity to identify anymore. “But that’s what it’ll be if that’s what you want.”

Finally satisfied and with determination in the back of his mind, Steve let your love bridge him over to the dreamland, distantly aware of your fingers still playing with his hair.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

+1

Steve’s mother used to say his that flu lasted a week under a doctor’s care; and seven days without it. Of course, when he was younger with many health issues, it was more complicated than that, but he got the message.

Under your care, he felt considerably better after five days, only a mild case of a runny nose remaining. On a Thursday morning, he even found himself awake before you did, before your alarm went off.

Contemplating whether he should stay in bed with you or get shit done, he lazily scooped away a bit and propped himself on his elbow to feast his eyes on his pretty nurse.

Your hair was a messy halo around your head, your brows were lightly crooked as if you were having an unpleasant dream, your lips parted just a fraction, the softest snort escaping you.

Steve felt himself grin, a love-sick lift of the corners of his lips.

You were so freaking cute.

And seeing you, relaxed, but clearly catching up with sleep to beat your exhaustion to which he abundantly contributed, he knew he couldn’t stay in bed; in fact, he had to make you breakfast to bed, for all the troubles he put you through and for the attentive care you lavished him with.

Sure, when he was getting overly needy and whiny or cranky, you weren’t shy to call him out on his shit – which only made him love you more – but otherwise you were admirably patient.

As if he hadn’t already known that you were a keeper before that; this only solidified his conviction. If everything about you didn’t scream put a ring on it, then he wasn’t Steven Grant Rogers.

Hell, he had a half-mind to propose you just at that moment, all domestic atmosphere and sweet gesture like breakfast in bed, but he wasn’t certain it wouldn’t look like the past few days were what pushed him over the edge. That would only be a half-truth--- quarter-truth?

Shaking his head at his own dumb thoughts, he gathered the pancakes, yogurt, various pieces of fruit and obviously, a coffee, laying it on a tray he had nearly forgotten he owned and tiptoed to the bedroom, honestly surprised that you hadn’t woken up yet with him fumbling around.

He stopped dead in his tracks when you sighed and stirred, rolling over and stretching out a hand as if in a search for him, only to find the space empty. Something between a hum and a damn meowl fell from your lips and Steve had to remind himself what it was he wanted to do besides trying his best to find out how exactly he could make you repeat that sound.

So precious. Absolutely adorable. Beautiful. Tempting.

You clutched the empty sheets, but didn’t wake and Steve crossed the distance to the bed, carefully setting the tray on the nightstand as he went to sit on the bed next to your waist, a dopy smile on his face.

Laying a hand on your thigh, he squeezed a little, attempting to wake you gently; he knew you got jumpy when something tickled your face, so this was the safer option.

You stirred once again, but didn’t wake, your eyes only fluttering open when he called your name a few times, alternating with your favourite term of endearment.

You squinted at him, appearing confused and groaning. Steve grinned.

“Morning, sunshine,” he hummed, finally allowing himself to run the pads of his fingers from your forehead to your cheek and jaw, leaning into drop a kiss to your lips.

He froze, his brain on alert as he registered how hot your face felt.

The faint snoring. Squinting against light. Not waking up sooner than him. Your face pretty much burning to touch.

Oh no.

“Babygirl… are you feeling sick?” Steve whispered hesitantly, met with a bleary gaze and a pout.

“Wasn’t feeling great even yesterday evening…” you said, voice hoarse – whether from sleep or the flu Steve had managed to infect you with, he couldn’t tell.

But he certainly felt guilty, even if it was inevitable, really; with all you sweet care and constant proximity, it was only a matter of time. Not that it made him feel any better.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry-“

“Not your fault-“

“Kinda is-“

“Steve dammit!” you hissed, your eyes flying open fully and Steve knew what was coming; still, he grimaced as you coughed. “Shit. I hate flu.”

“Tell me about it. You think you can eat something?” he fussed, snapping into his nurse mode right away, ready for your roles to reverse.

You hummed and tried to sit, your gaze falling on the nightstand for the first time. Your expression, having been twisted in a grimace, softened instantly. As you turned to him, he suddenly felt sheepish. Was he acting like a love-sick fool?

“You made me breakfast to bed?” you cooed, snuggling into the covers before gesturing for him to help you sit up. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll be better if I make you some tea to go with it… and bring cough sirup… and stuff, yeah?”

You smiled like a loon – well, you tried, the result kinda faint, a testimony to your exhaustion – and Steve quickly rose to his feet.

“You’re the best.”

“Nope, that’s you. Eat your breakfast, babygirl.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve could tell you still didn’t feel exactly alright and the idea of eating wasn’t thrilling to you, but the pleaser you were, you tried your best for him to see that you appreciated his effort to make breakfast. When he brought you the tea, the medicine and water to down it, you were hallway through the pancakes, even though you seemed to force yourself into every bite.

“You don’t have to make yourself sicker just because you feel like you have to eat this, you know,” he hummed nonchalantly, causing you to grimace and take another two bites before sighing and pushing the tray away.

“It’s really yummy though… I think,” you stated, a wry smile playing in one corner of your lips. “Thank you.”

And you sounded so honestly grateful, clearly attempting for the smile to look real even with your eyes blazed and your features undeniably displaying tiredness, that Steve had to chuckle as he handed you the pills.

“Glad you liked it, sweetheart.”

You went to drop a careful kiss to his cheek when a coughing fit took you by surprise, starling him and resulting in you clutching both your chest and head, wide hurt eyes looking up at him as he smiled, tight-lipped and compassionate; he knew exactly how you felt.

And you were still kinda adorable, pouting a bit, looking at Steve as if he could save you from the evil flu monster.

“I hate flu… but I really like you. Thank you for taking care of me,” you said sincerely, emphasizing your point with an obviously unplanned sneeze.

Steve lips twitched, but so did his heart. His hands went to caress your hair, earning a pleased hum.

“Just returning the favour.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t think I was that nice.”

“You were,” he assured you, feeling need to add a little piece of important information, just to show how much he meant it. “Just made me fall in love with you all over again.”

“Sweet-talker. I bet that’s all gone now, seeing me about to go through a box of tissues a day,” you chuckled weakly, nearly sinking into the cushions.

Steve wasn’t sure what was it he was suddenly overcome with; how or in which exact moment it sneaked into his conscience, a crazy insane thought and the untameable feeling in his gut that nudged him to do it.

To do it right now. To tell you, truly and from the depth of his heart, how much you meant to him. How much he was sure you always would.

“No, it’s not. I want to take care of you,” he whispered, hesitantly taking a hold of your slightly clammy hands and gently squeezing. You reciprocated the action, even if weakly.

“I want to take care of you and I want you to take care of me. I want to have you by my side every day, in our home, in our bed,” he continued, for once not talking only about different ways of making you moan his name when mentioning a bed. “I want to kiss you stupid whenever I get the chance, I want to laugh with you when you’re happy and hold you when you feel like crap. I want us to fight the whole world if they tell us that our love is wrong, because I know there’s nothing more right than me loving you and you loving me.”

The words spilled from his lips without much thinking, just one following other, somehow making sense, he hoped.

The strange buzz of nerves in his ears was so loud that he barely registered you breathed out his name.

“Steve-“

His eyes never left your face, watching it crumble under the weight of his declaration, already glassy eyes turning wetter, breathing ragged almost as much as his was from the rapid fire of words. Your lips parted in beautiful awe, that beautiful awe he had seen before, whenever you seemed to be shocked by how deep his need for you ran.

There was no questioning what should come next. Only half-aware of doing so, Steve had already prepared the ground.

“Stay right here,” he blurted out, giving your hands another quick squeeze before straightening rapidly and nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed towards his desk, opening the third drawer. Your voice, laced with both confusion and overwhelming emotion, followed him.

“I- I’m not going anywhere. What’s-“

“Sh-shh,” Steve hissed distractedly and took a deep breath as his fingers finally met with the box, gripping it tightly and his palm covering it as he stalked back to the bed, heart hammering in his ribcage.

This was the right moment, right? It seemed ridiculous, but god, so so right.

“You’re lucid, right?” he asked just to make sure, wavering only for a bit; you might be sick, even have a headache maybe, but you certainly appeared lucid enough a moment ago. But maybe that would be the reason you’d say no?

Shit, he felt like teenager about to ask his first crush to sit with him at lunch.

“I—I think? I’m just hella confused…“ you stuttered, causing his already wild heart to skip a beat upon hearing the nerves in your voice.

Your eyes, wide with confusion and yet slightly narrow because light hurt, watched Steve carefully as he dropped to his knees by your bedside and he didn’t think he ever saw you looking more endearing.

Steve had never been more certain of the fact that he wanted you to be his wife; and yet, and maybe precisely because of that, a lump formed in his throat. He took a deep calming breath, bracing himself.

“I love you. I love your mind, your body, your soul and everything that’s you and I—I think you’re the most wonderful woman I have ever met and had the luck to fall for. So I…”

With another heartskip, loud pounding in his head and maybe a tiny bit of a shake to his hands, he rose to only one knee, not missing your expression turning into a picture perfect of shock when he held out the box he had been thinking about for too long.

“Oh my god, Steve-“

“Please let me do this,” he whispered, barely audible, mostly because while you seemed absolutely stunned, you didn’t look angry or horrified, so he sensed a chance.

“I’m running a fever, my nose is running too and I’m--- ew all over-“ you protested weakly, a tear actually running down your cheek, but then you chuckled, a hand flying up to cover your mouth and Steve felt his confidence rise.

“You’re not, and even if you were I wouldn’t care. You’re my everything and wish nothing more than to make you mine officially.” Unable to wait any longer under you attentive and entirely adoring gaze, he opened the box and said your full name, nearly choking on it under the overwhelming joy of the moment – because he already knew. He knew what you were gonna say; you had it written all over you face. “Will you marry me?”

Steve knew. He was so sure that he knew--- and yet. Yet. As the silence prolonged, lasting seconds, minutes even – hours, it must have been – Steve felt the nervous coil in his gut twist painfully.

He watched you with torturous anticipation as you were; semi-sat up on a bed, hurting, probably beginning to sweat through your pyjama and drinking chamomile tea to get rid of the bug you had caught from him, and here he was, proposing.

In sickness and health indeed; and in some absurd way, this all made perfect sense to him… well, it had, a minute ago.

You looked like a million thoughts were racing through your head, and Steve felt his heart sink to his stomach. What if you truly were thinking he was crazy-

“Yes,” you said at last and Steve released the breath he was holding, endlessly relieved, the heaviness weighting a ton finally falling from his shoulders. Oh Chirst, thank fuck—he really had been getting worried- “Yes, I-“

Relief blended into delight as he heard you speak the beautiful word again.

Yes. Yes, you wanted to be his wife.

Yes, you wanted to marry him!!

An incredulous chuckle spilled from his lips and he tossed the box on the bed, swiftly moving up and grabbing your face to kiss you stupid as he wanted and had said that he always would.

You made a startled noise, but you giggled too, grasping onto his shoulders and his nape and kissing back with all you got—and then you were pulling away, fighting for breath, because flu, duh, he needed to be careful with you, but-

You agreed to marry him!

Keeping you as close as possible while allowing you to breathe, his eyes happily roamed your face, so pretty and adorable and the knowledge of him being able waking up next to that face for the rest of his life sent his heart into frenzy, sparkles of pure joy filling his chest.

“I love you! Thank you, babygirl,” he exclaimed, kissing you once more, a short but intense encounter of lips that caused you to giggle again—but he didn’t give a shit if he was being ridiculous. Your eyes, even if tired, seemed to glow now, happy twinkles dancing in your irises, telling him you were just as excited and delighted as he was. “Thank you-“

“You’re so crazy-“ you mumbled, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as you still shook with laughter and Steve simply climbed on the bed fully, wrapping you in his arms tightly.

He could sing at how you fit into his arms.

“I am. For you.”

“I can’t believe you proposed to me while I’m lying sick on a bed,” you mumbled over his shoulder, sounding as if you were complaining a little.

“In sickness and health?” he offered nervously, holding you tighter just in case you were going to back out now. Which was not an option.

He had to physically put the ring on your finger. Right now. Then you wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

In the back of his brain, an annoying voice told him that this was not how it worked, that there was no guarantee. But Steve shushed that voice and withdrew only enough to reach for the box and with a grin so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt from the strain, he took a hold of your left hand, slipping the ring on.

He didn’t miss the way your breath caught and he didn’t think the flu was to blame for that; the ring looked lovely on your hand. And Steve was a smidge proud of how he managed to make it fit perfectly.

“Steve… the ring-”

“You don’t like it?” he worried in an instant as he detected a new emotion in your voice.

You went to lightly slap his shoulder, rolling your eyes – an action you apparently regretted by the silent groan that followed; just another reminded of your sickness.

“Shush, you dummy. It’s--- breath-taking, but-“ you bit down on your lower lip, clearly hesitant to speak your mind and Steve didn’t find it at all comforting that you said you did like then ring. Not with the but. You sounded almost guilty, which was… strange. “But must have been so expensive and we still haven’t really-“

Oh. Oh.

Steve felt his lips spread back into a smile.

His sweet, sweet girl, responsible and perfect. He hated the reminder of your father’s behaviour, of the fact that you were ashamed on his behalf and felt guilty.

Steve didn’t want that.

“If I tell you it wasn’t, will you be mad?” he offered, watching carefully for your reaction, and your thoughtful expression turned into a confused one.

“Wasn’t?“

“I just had it cleaned and re-sized.”

You blinked, eyelids heavy, and tilted your head in bewilderment—melting into a brief panic and Steve realized what must have crossed your mind.

His stomach clenched in horror at you even considering it. You might have thought it was meant for another woman from his life.

Which it was, but not the way you thought!

“It was my ma’s!” he blurted out in panic, causing you to flinch a bit in fright of his suddenly louder voice. Steve shook his head – he was so messing this whole proposal thing up – clearing his throat, he observed your face, now full of emotion he couldn’t read. “…is that okay?”

There were tears prickling in your eyes, no words leaving your mouth as he had managed to render you speechless and he could punch himself for making you feel whatever you were feeling.

He had to fix this, fast.

“We can absolutely pick up something else if you don’t like the idea!” he was quick to offer, his heart speeding up when you still didn’t say a word. But you didn’t seem… that mad. What was happening in your head though, that was a mystery to him. “It’s just… she always told me that it was the second most precious thing she had left after dad, right after me, and that she wants me to give it to-- please don’t cry.”

Yes, he made the tears spill. There were a few rolling down your cheeks and Steve… he was starting to recognize the emotions playing in your expression, but he couldn’t entirely put his finger on it.

Honestly, he couldn’t tell whether you were so touched by the whole inherited ring gesture or if you were hating him with your very being for ruining some picture-perfect proposal you had been dreaming about since you were five; angry and disappointed that he didn’t even have the decency to buy you your own ring.

Probably a bit of both.

“Steve, you romantic idiot, come here,” you choked out, by a miracle not coughing for once and before he could even react and let the relief sink in, you grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled hard.

You had a surprisingly a lot of strength for someone coming down with a flu – actually, being down with a flu.

He landed on you, barely catching himself before he could crush you, a surprised laugh spilling from his lips, delight once again lighting up his world.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pecking his lips, fingers sinking to his hair and that moment, Steve was in heaven. “So much.”

He grinned wide, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as tight as he could, feeling both his own heartbeat and yours, tumbling happily and together.

“And I love you… future Mrs. Rogers.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Tied to you (next in timeline)

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

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Not gonna lie. Thought of posting this in four parts of maybe at least two (3 and +1), but then I thought, screw it, let’s post 7,7k words at once. I hope you made it through all of them.

What’s coming next? I have no idea... maybe it’s who’s ‘coming’ next 👀

Thank you for reading!