dreamscapewanderer

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 67]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Got many things to do today, though I do have a meeting in a bit over an hours, so there will be a break.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

��

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

[sporadicerratic]

Reach Out and Touch Someone

This is my very first fic I have ever posted anywhere. For KingDings week 2021. This is prompt #2, “Heartache” I’ll come back and name it something serious later I swear I hope y’all like it pls be kind ty

Pit. Pat.

Only the quietest of sounds echoed in the dark space as the king carefully wiped the surface of a small stone coffin with a soft, damp cloth. Careful to catch the inside edges of small, green heart embossed into the center, he diligently scrubbed every inch of the surface; the sussurus of each pass punctuated by his occasional sniffles.

Once all dust had been eradicated from the top of the coffin, the king leaned close to the heart and gave it a soft touch, one that could even be considered tender. “I’m sorry,’ he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Pit. Pat.

Cloth into the bucket, swirled around and wrung out. The fur on his hands was soaked through, and the water was making it’s way down his forearm, but he hadn’t brought another towel to dry the coffins, or himself. There was work to be done, and a small coffin with a light blue heart that had gathered dust.

Had he not been so focused on his task, King Asgore might have noticed the faintest flickering in the corner behind the coffin with the purple heart on it. The darkness trembled and shivered, as did the figure peering through it to watch the king performing his sorrowful task.

Gaster knew that he didn’t have the strength to do more than pierce the void today, but how he wished with all of his might that he could be there to comfort his dearest companion through this, one of his most difficult duties as king. Before he had fallen into his creation, he had urged Asgore to let someone; ANYONE else tend to the coffins, but Asgore had refused. The corners of his eyes had crinkled up and his brow had furrowed in the way that made Gaster want to take him into his arms and never let go, despite the fact that he could only hug one side of his mountain of a goat. “Thank you, Dings,’ he had sighed, “but it was my own brash actions that put those poor children into those coffins. I could never,” here he closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers, “I could never ask anyone else to have anything to do with them. This is my responsibility.” He looked up, eyes glassy. “But, I thank you, my dearest friend. Come. It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we walk in the garden, while the sun is shining?”

Gaster’s hand practically disappeared into that of the towering king of the Underground, but his grip was gentle and his fur was soft, oh, so soft. If Gaster closed his eyes, he could almost remember the way it warmed the bones of his hollow hand, and the way that warmth spread to make his quivering, fractured soul feel almost whole again. Asgore was so full of love that he generously showered upon all of his subjects, and Gaster felt privileged to be a common recipient of what he secretly hoped was a little more, or should he say, a little different than that he showed to everyone else.  He only wished that he could share some of the burden that the king refused to ever let drop from those massive shoulders.

Pit. Pat.

Gaster was gently brought out of his reverie and back to the present as the king moved to the last coffin; the one with the purple heart. That human hadn’t offered much resistance; throwing the one item they had managed to bring into the underground; a simple notebook, and fleeing into a cavern in Waterfall. Every day that Asgore had to fulfill his promise to the monsters of the underground was a true test of his resolve. He always held it together until he made it back to the throne room; smiling and waving to the cheers of his subjects who saw the flickering soul cupped gently in his hands as nothing more than a sign of hope; not as the last surviving piece of a living being.

It was Gaster who took the soul from his hands as he collapsed, sobbing, into the flowers. It was Gaster who quietly encased it in a glass cylinder, and eased the broken body of the human from Asgore’s grip. It was Gaster who sat with him for hours; days; sometimes weeks, rubbing his back, holding his head in his lap, whispering gentle words of encouragement and love, making sure that he ate, and keeping him warm through the night when he refused to move from the spot where he fell.

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pit. Pat.

Asgore’s tears fell upon the last coffin, and as he tried in vain to wipe them from it’s surface, his will finally broke, as did the silence. He collapsed with an ugly sob onto the little coffin, arms wide enough to hold the entire thing in his embrace. “I, I’m s-so, I’m, s-so so sssso so ss-so sorrr-ry, little one,” he gurgled into the wet stone; smearing snot and tears with his ineffectual soaked cloth, and then his bare hands.

Something in Gaster snapped. He had spent months gathering enough energy to even open this portal, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to be by his king’s side when he needed him, even if he couldn’t manage a corporeal form. He shoved what little he was composed of against the taut membrane of the barrier between the void and reality, gasping as it sizzled and burned around the tips of his ghostly phalanges. Passing through even with a body was painful, but without one? He struggled to keep himself coalescent as pure fire danced along every part of that was slowly oozing through the gateway between realms. His head swam as the searing pain consumed his mind, but he forced his eyes open and fixated on the sound of Asgore’s heart-wrenching sobs; of those quavering shoulders that he ached to embrace.

With a terrible modulating scream and a pop he erupted from the void, only to stumble directly through the coffin, the king, and halfway into the back wall. A form. He had made it through, but without any kind of physical form. The barrier had consumed too much of the energy he had worked so hard and so long to gather.

“My king,” Gaster spoke aloud. Asgore’s shoulders continued to shake as he rained tears upon the coffin, though his sobs were slowing. He showed no signs of having heard Gaster at all. Gaster’s face fell, and then slipped slightly as the damned DT in his system asserted itself. Well, if it was going to make itself known, he was going to make use of it, damn it. He was determined to give his dear Asgore SOME sort of comfort.

“GOREY!” he practically shouted, doing everything he could to wrap his arms around Asgore’s back, and phasing slightly into his body. It was warm. Oh, it was so warm.

Asgore sniffled and looked up with a start. “Dings?” he whispered into the darkness, whipping his head around, and then spinning his entire body so his back was to the small coffin. Gaster inhaled sharply as the king’s face passed, unseeing, through his own. After glancing around a bit more, Asgore slumped, his face in his hands. “Of course,” he rasped in a forlorn tone that melted Gaster a bit more, “Of course he’s not here. I’m losing it. I’m losing it.”

“I’M HERE, MY KING! I’M HERE!!” Gaster carefully moved so that, if he had had any kind of solidity, his forehead would be pressing against Asgore’s. He pushed with every bit of will that existed within him, forcing it into the words. If he cannot feel me, at least, at least let him hear my voice, he thought.

“Ahhh Gaster, god damn it. I miss you so, so much. Why did you have to go and leave me like that, Dings? Why did you have to go away?”

Asgore’s voice trailed off as he laughed through fresh tears that coursed through the fur on his face to gather in his beard.

If Gaster had had any sort of form at all, he would have been crying as well. The most he could manage was to melt further against Asgore’s body; the determination he felt reducing him to half of his normal stature. “I’m sorry, Gorey. I’m sorry, I’m here, I swear it. You aren’t alone. You aren’t alone.” His blob of a hand passed through Asgore’s giant paw again and again as Gaster struggled in vain to manifest.

Asgore leaned his head back and wiped his eyes. “Dings,” he whispered, “if you were here, you would tell me that this defies all logic, and that I’m being absurd again, and that I probably need to eat something, but I could swear that you’re in this room with me right now. And, I, I could really, really stand for you to be in this room right now, Dings, I really could. So, I’m gonna talk to you anyway.”

Gaster’s face froze, and then a wide grin spread across his features. “I would like that, your majesty,” he whispered back. “I would like that very much.”

Hours later, Asgore’s gentle snoring filled the tiny room. He had spoken of love, and loss, and longing; of family and friends, and the many, many things he felt were so far out of his reach, and Gaster had heard it all. As his king had become more and more weary, Gaster spread his loose form over him in an embrace that he put every ounce of whatever determination he had left into making warm, and then fell asleep himself.

Had Asgore been awake, and had he squinted really hard, and had he even thought to look, he might have been able to make out the barest, glitching outline of ghostly, hollow skeletal hand resting on top of his palm.

[neitherlightnordark]

local court mage and court jester crash a party in reverse

“Congratulations are in order, order,” the court jester said to the court magician in a secluded corner. The party was winding down to a close.

Seam, leaning against the wall with a plate of royal confectionaries, let out a hoarse laugh. “Haven’t I suffered through enough already?”

“This will be better, trust me, trust me!” Jevil speared a sweet on his claw and sucked it off. “Not over-sugared at all. You did very, very, well by not-not dying.”

“That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“I know it was! I know it was!” Jevil smiled with candy-rotted teeth.

“And that’s why you aren’t getting any more of these.” Seam impassively waved a humongous paw at the confectionary dish. “You’re going to get sick.”

“I take back my congratulations, as you’ve been revealed to be quite, quite evil.”

“A necessary evil for everyone’s sanity.”

Jevil clambered up to Seam’s head, half-scurrying and half-floating, and flopped down right between the ears, kneading in a way that thrummed right through Seam’s stuffing. “Evil is only considered necessary by the jaded, jaded.”

“Is that not what we are?”

“Don’t say that!” Jevil abruptly swatted Seam’s mouth shut, tearing a little gash in the fabric.

Seam gently pried his claws away. “Ow.”

“We’re not jaded! Not yet-!!” Jevil reached down to pat Seam’s mouth, softer this time. “Torn, torn, torn, torn."

“My cloth is getting more fragile.” Seam let another white thread spool out from the infinite void, let it mend the rend. “It's alright. Pain teaches.”

“Jaded, jaded mage. Don’t say that.” Jevil watched the light snake up and disappear, leaving a stitch. “Hmm. Where does it go, go? Do you wonder, do you wonder?”

“I don’t wonder.”

“You lie!” Jevil resumed kneading Seam’s head, gentler this time. “You wonder. Is that not why you find the chalkboard every-very few nights? You don’t need to worry about this world, not when you’re always in another- you already know this, hee hee hee.”

Seam silently put the dish on the ground. "Quieter, jester. You’ll convince the King of Clubs to retire me early.”

“The King of Clubs, the King of Clubs,” Jevil repeated, a little distantly. He floated up just a bit, still kneading at Seam’s fur. “You told the four, the four, what the chalkdust said?”

“Of course I did. Do you want to know too?”

“You would tell, tell?”

“I don’t suppose you could do much damage with it.”

“Well, well, you know what I’m capable of,” Jevil said with a sudden rush of levity. “Tell me, dear mage, tell me!”

“Welly well well, now I’m not sure I should."

“Oh, come on now.” Jevil’s kneading grew into a sort of pummel, as though Jevil was bouncing on Seam’s head. “At the very least- at the very least, it would be extremely, extremely interesting.”

“It would be interesting,” Seam agreed. “But I won’t.”

“Boring, boring mage,” Jevil said with an anticipatory smile creeping into his voice.

Seam smiled up at him too, gently swatting him off. “Earn it, court jester."

Jevil hopped off Seam’s head and swiveled to face him, bobbing in the air and grinning sharp as any knife. “My mage, my mage, clever as ever! Is that an invitation?”

“Only if you want it to be.” Seam bowed, showing all the grace required in a duelist- a sharp contrast to Jevil’s scatterbrained demeanor. “Only if you know the rules of the game.”

“Of course I do, there’s only one, only one-”

“When your HP reaches zero,” they said simultaneously, “you lose.”

“The courtyard, then,” Seam decided, stretching and yawning and cracking some stitches. “Later, though. I’m tired.”

“That’s unfair, unfair!”

“Not my fault you’ll be sugar-sick in a few hours, fool. Ha ha!” Seam headed towards the exit, leaving the dish on the floor. Jevil threw a glare over his shoulder at the candy and flew after Seam, ignoring the whispers and chortling they left in their wake.

The halls were empty but for one diamond guard (they were the one who stole all the cookies and gave them to the clover child) who straightened up from their stupor and waved to Jevil and Seam; Jevil cheerfully waved back (Seam did not. The cookies were too fresh of a memory). Seam had never liked the inside of Card Castle; it was too sterile, too confusing to parse, and it was quite a relief when the two of them spilled out into the lush reds of the Forest.

Jevil was still arguing his point, much to Seam’s amusement, while bouncing on the mage’s head- “and I should at least- at LEAST- have a chance to expunge, expunge myself of-”

Seam burst out laughing, free of the castle’s expectant eyes.

“WHAT? You asked, asked!”

“I never asked!” Seam summoned an orb of magic yarn to light their way as they entered the forest. “But you should keep going anyway. This’ll be the last chance you’ll ever get to explain to me what happens to you after a sugar rave in exquisite detail.”

“You’re very disgusting.” Jevil gently thwapped Seam’s ears. “Very. Disgusting.”

“Said the candy hoarder.”

“Said the one who sleeps-sleeps-sleeps in a hole in the wall!”

“It’s a refined hole. I have standards.”

“Low standards.” Jevil gently touched the back of Seam's ear, folding his mitten hand over it. “Case in point.”

For once, Seam fell silent, smile relaxing into a frown- only for a moment, though. “You be quiet."

The two made their way home, and beneath them the void seethed.

[amayamiyaki]

Artwork by @emilyisnursebaymax​

Characters/Pairing: Shisui x Sakura; eventual Uchiha x Sakura; Sasuke

Title: Bewitched [Part One]

Rating: General

Bewitched

The woods surrounding Konoha are beautiful in every sense of the word.

They lie friendly in the day, with their evergreen needles and their redwood trunks. But at night, they’re darkly ominous. The endearing chirrups of gold-winged sparrows are nonexistent, instead replaced with the trills of crickets and the rattle of cicadas. A low hanging fog settles in, swirling mischievously at Sakura’s feet, while pathetic streams of moonlight dapple through the thick canopy. It's so dark now that the pitiful flames of her lantern are nearly swallowed whole and the only thing keeping her from stumbling are the outstretched hands of the surrounding trees and the unsettling churning in her gut.

To step into the embrace of the woods so close to the witching hour, is to welcome darkness, because these woods are thieves. They rob visitors of their senses—blinds them in exchange for the ears of a wolf and the nose of a rat. Envelops them in a claustrophobic entanglement of shadows and susurring branches. And sometimes, if the woods feel impish enough, the woods take more than that.

Ignoring the anxiety constricting her chest, Sakura carefully reaches for the holster draped at her waist and pulls out her panflute. The woods grow hushed as the first notes of her song carries through the void. There are no more crickets, no more birds. Not even a whistle of wind. Only her footsteps and her melody. Her song is low, ominous like the entirety of the woods, with quivering down notes and eerie high ones, and to the untrained ear, it nearly sounds like true fairy music.

Sakura diverges from the rutted path, turning right then left; her cloak sways with her movements, its frayed ends dancing around her protectively. She can feel the dirt packing between her toes as each step sinks the soles of her feet into the earth, and while jagged roots bite into her skin, it's nothing she isn’t used to. And the deeper into the woods she goes, the more she feels like she’s being watched. Her cloak brushes against bodies that may or may not be there, shadows morph and wings flutter.

She can taste the mischief in the air.

Carefully adjusting her basket and lantern so they dangle from the crooks of her elbows, and with her grip on the flute tight, Sakura allows her free hand to float at her side as she walks. She caresses the outreaching brambles and low-hanging leaves in hopes that her touch will appease the woods’ growing apprehension of her, stopping only when the rocks and dirt make way for fairy rings.

Her melody soon lifts into a more tranquil tune as the woodland fae giggle and sing in approval. Their fairy music joins her own, accompanied by the fluttering of wings and the appearance of squirrels; she doesn’t look down as the fairies breach from the chests of their hosts, fully aware of the danger she’s now in.

Because as beautiful as fae folk are, they’re ten times as dangerous.

Carefully, as not to break her song, Sakura sets her basket and lantern down, exposing the blueberries and quartz she brought as offerings, while scanning the void for any signs of life. A crow watches her, its head jerking curiously as it observes her. Decayed leaves crumble beneath heavy paws. A thousand eyes weigh her down while a million whispers ghost her skin.

She plays on, ignoring the playful tugs to her rose tresses and to the scarlet threads of her cloak, and she doesn’t stop even as magic scents the air. It compresses, fluttering around her with moonlit glitter, kissing her knuckles as she plays. Splashes of watercolor and silk constellate her vision, making her nose twitch and her belly drop, but she refuses to fall to the fairies’ mischief.

It’s only when the flame from her lantern abruptly dies away that she ends her song. Her breath shakes but she doesn’t show her nerves; Sakura stands tall with her chin tilted high and her shoulders straight.

Because the woods has accepted her offering.

“I call upon the gift of air,” She begins, bringing her hands to float at her sides again. A trickle of air intertwines with her fingers. “Gusty winds and breezes fair.”

Sakura smiles to herself a little more confidently as the tails of her hair tickles at her nose, kicked up with the breath of wind that drew by. The leaves shudder overhead, scattering decayed slivers of orange and red amongst the void. She closes her eyes, and says loudly, “Carry this witch’s greeting across distant lands—take flight! A hearty welcome for a familiar, I invite.”

A crow squawks and a wolf howls; the wind picks up, making her cloak lash out with a ferality that comes with an angry fae but Sakura is not deterred.

She furrows her brows and huffs defiantly, brushing aside the amused songs of the surrounding fairies as she continues, “Fae of the forest, hear my plea. Come forth and seek me, and equals we will be. Not master to servant, but familiar to familiar. To protect and honor, always and forever.”

The woods are alive with the presence of fae folk. Gold eyes appear from across the void while fairies creep from the bodies of their birds and the bark of trees. But no one approaches. And in the blink of an eye, the woods becomes just that—woods. Just knobbed trunks and crickets.

The fae are gone. The wolves disappear. The crows are silent.

But Sakura waits. She waits and waits and waits until she can’t anymore and it infuriates her because she knows the spell was correct. The fae acknowledged it. They heard it, responded to it. So then why—

“To protect and honor, always and forever, huh?”

Sakura stiffens, startled at the sudden voice around her and tries to whirl around only to find herself frozen. Hands settle on her shoulders for a moment before one slowly drifts down her arms with a feathery lightness that evokes chills in their wake. It travels to her wrist, encircling it, keeping her just out of reach of the dagger at her hip while the other hand ghosts along the curve of her neck.

She tries to ignore the breath on the back of her neck and the overwhelming scent of caramel and Hellfire that envelops her. “To protect and honor,” She reiterates, calm despite the fear winding down her spine. “Always and forever.”

Whoever—or rather, whatever—is behind her hums. “Forever is a long time, Witch.”

Sakura swallows the lump building in her throat. "I'll have you for however long you'll have me."

His responding laugh and the way he drags his fingertips down to her wrists raises a garden of goosebumps along her arms, and it's not completely pleasant. He opens a hand, palm up just below her own while the other lifts a strand of hair. "Your name?"

Sakura smiles to herself, shoving aside the uneasy shiver that threatens to crawl down her spine. She knows their tricks. She can hear the mishief in his voice. To give her name is to welcome trouble, because who knows what the Fae will do with it?

And the way his hand hovers, waiting like the hand of an expectant child, he's not asking out of formality.

"You can't have my name," Sakura says. "But you may call me Sakura.

The Fae's chuckle is a warm one full of summer evenings and pine trees, thunderstorms and something dangerous. "Oh I like you," He laughs, brushing the pads of his fingers against her knuckles. "Then you may call me—"

He's interrupted by a loud snarl and the beating of approaching footsteps, but neither are human. Quickly, Sakura frees the dagger against her hip just as a large wolf jumps out at her, jaw unhinged and crimson eyes wild; but as quickly as she sees it, its gone, replaced by the heat of a body against her chest.

The snarl of the Fae enveloping her is otherworldly, feral—demonic—alighting Helfire all throughout her body, but it evokes a sort of comfort that Sakura can't say she's ever felt before.  She blinks, cautiously moving in the grasp of the Fae to chance a glance at him, only to find her view obscured by a wall of feathers.

Wings.

Entranced by the glossy feathers, Sakura tentatively reaches for them, carefully skirting her fingertips along the jade sheen.  The feathers sway, ruffling slightly at her touch, and piercing, scarlet eyes peek through so she pulls back as if burnt.

The wings lower slightly and the arm around her waist loosens, allowing Sakura a glimpse of fangs embedded into black cloth and blood on dark fur. The wolf's eyes meet hers, narrowing, and then there's a pained grunt as the beast's jaws tighten around the arm in its mouth.

"Sasuke," She hears. "Stop."

The wolf is reluctant, its hackles high and body vibrating with its rage, and it gives one last huff before releasing the Fae. Sakura feels him relax, and the softness of his touch compels her to mimic him.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

Gone is the wolf, replaced by a man—a man with skin like snow and hair like a raven's wings. His eyes are sharp, dark like a reflection of the deepest reaches of an underground cavern and sprinkled with red.  But what makes her breath still in her chest, are the horns that stand out atop his head. They're tall, curving down once before shooting straight up and spiked on the bend, with scales colored an iridescent shade of indigo that makes her think of a slick of oil. And they're adorned with silver bands.

A demon.

Sakura feels her blood turn to ice, not just at the way the demon spat her title, but at the weight of the older one’s stare landing upon her. Fae are dangerous on their own, but Demons are something in a league all their own.

And she had spoken her name to one.

"Are you stupid?” The Demon-Fae called Sasuke hisses. “Entertaining the call of a Witch?”

She can feel the bloodlust radiating from the enraged Demon-Fae and considers running.  She mulls over the incantations in her head—banishing spells, protection spells, binding spells—but ultimately, she finds herself rooted in place, pinned to her Fae’s chest by an arm and feathers.

“Is my baby cousin concerned about me?” He has the gall to tease. “How cute!”

Sakura pushes the feathers aside to look up at her Fae.  His expression is calm, with only the faintest down-turning of his brows hinting towards his irritation.  But his eyes, dark and murky, glow with mirth. He’s handsome, even more so than the Demon-Fae behind her, with strong features and moonlit skin; his hair falls in devious curls that part around his horns.

He has two sets of them—a testament to his age.  One set curves out, then in and up, nowhere near as high as the former’s; while the other set curls down and straight back, their points just barely peeking out from the angle he stands.  The shadows dull their color, unfortunately, but she can glimpse where the moonlight catches on the jewels draped along them.

And when he peers down at her, from beneath enviously long lashes, Sakura has to force herself to breathe.

Sasuke’s growl is predatory, so powerful that Sakura can feel it palpate in her chest. “Quit playing around!  You know that fraternizing with a,” He pauses, glancing in her direction with his nose scrunched in distaste. “Witch is asking for trouble.”

The Demon-Fae straightens, his shoulders stiffening and chin raising, and then wings that gleam with a hint of jade outstretch.  They spread so wide, they eclipse the moon and morph into the darkness between the trees.

“This Witch, Sasuke,” The Demon-Fae begins, and his hands come to rest at the base of Sakura’s neck and around her wrist. “Is under my protection.  For always and forever.”

[mrs-berry]

Rock Bottom

Read on AO3!

Summary: Marinette has been stressed and depressed lately. The weight of everything is just too much, but she continues to try to handle everything by herself. Luckily for her, her partner has noticed and he is more than happy to lend an ear (and his chest) during one of their patrols…

Word Count: 4072

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

“Ready for patrol, LB?” Chat Noir asked as he landed on the secluded roof they agreed to meet on.

“Yeah,” Ladybug replied, her voice sounding hoarse and very unlike her.

Her smile (if you could even call it that) didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes looked dull, void of the usual playfulness or happiness.

He had noticed her mood had been low lately, but tonight it was especially obvious.

Ladybug was always adamant about keeping their personal lives secret, but he’d be damned if he was going to let this carry on any longer.

She was about to turn away to begin their patrol, but he latched onto her wrist before she could leave.

“Ladybug. Let’s talk,” he suggested firmly, then added more gently, “Please.”

“Talk? … About what? There’s nothing to talk about.” But despite her denial, it was painfully obvious it was a lie. Her voice didn’t hold its usual strength and liveliness, it sounded frail and weak.

“Of course there is. Please sit down. Please,” he requested, taking a seat at the edge of the roof, dangling his legs over the ledge. He patted the space next to him in an inviting manner. When she made no move, he added, “I pawmise I don’t bite. I’m a docile kitten.”

A small smile slipped onto her lips at that, but it didn’t stay long. He expected some sort of clever retort, but was disappointed to receive none.

Still, he considered it a small victory when she finally perched herself next to him after only a brief hesitation.

Ladybug said nothing and just stared out at the city as she fidgeted with her yo-yo.

“So, want to tell this gentlecat your woes?” he prompted, as it seemed unlikely she was going to start talking if he didn’t.

She frowned and remained tight-lipped.

Quickly realizing his light-hearted approach was ineffective, Chat decided it was best to treat this very seriously. Ladybug’s problems, whatever they were, should be taken seriously and he was already regretting not doing so immediately. He had hoped to cheer her up with his silliness, but it had become clear this wasn’t what she needed right now.

What she probably needed was an ear to listen. Maybe even a shoulder to cry on. And, even if she didn’t love him, he vowed to always be that person for her.

He shifted so he was facing her more, one leg tucked under his thigh as the other remained over the ledge.

“Ladybug, you don’t have to say anything if you really don’t want to. I understand how important keeping our identities secret is to you. But I just want you to know, I see you.” Ladybug, who had been looking away finally returned his gaze with a pained look, patiently listening to him. “I’ve noticed you’ve been down lately. I keep waiting for you to speak up and say what’s bothering you, but it’s finally become clear to me that you’re not going to say anything willingly. Ladybug, please. Please tell me what’s the matter. I’m here for you. I want to help you.”

He gazed into her eyes imploringly, hoping she would see and hear and feel his sincerity.

Ladybug finally let out a breath she had been holding.

Her eyes fluttered down, then to the side, before looking up at his again.

Biting her lip, she turned away again.

Chat felt a stab, fearing she would get up and leave without a word.

To his surprise, though, she stayed next to him.

Her next words surprised him even more.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Am I sure?” he repeated dumbfoundedly. How was that even a question she was asking? “Of course I’m sure! You’re Ladybug: my partner since day one. We’ve been through so much together and we’re a team. You’re the girl I fell head over heels for. Of course I’m here for you and want to help you!”

He watched as her eyes became glossy and she hid her face by looking away.

Chat Noir’s heart dropped.

Was Ladybug crying?

Chat panicked. He had never seen his partner cry before. It must be really serious, but he had no clue know what to do. He wanted to hug her and cradle her and reassure her and be there for here and build her back up! Most of all, he wanted her to be happy. He wished for her happiness and well-being far more than he wished for his own.

Tentatively, not wanting to scare her off, he lay his hand on her shoulder and became worried when she tensed.

She raised her hands to her eyes and brushed away her tears, before finally turning to face him again.

She may have dabbed away her tears, but her eyes still glistened in the moonlight, clearly ready to produce more.

He clenched his free hand to stop himself from brushing away the tears that threatened to fall.

“I have no one,” she whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable. “M-my friends have been turned against me.”

Chat stared intently into her eyes, trying to understand. Patiently waiting for her to continue.

“A girl at school threatened to take away everyone I love. And she succeeded. She fed them lies about me. And all of my friends… all of my classmates… they believed her… they don’t like me or believe me anymore,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to stare at the yo-yo in her hands. “The only one who hasn’t been turned against me is the boy I… the boy I’m trying to get over.”

The news that Ladybug was trying to get over the boy she loves shocked Chat to his core. But he remained quiet, willing for her to continue.

“The boy… he has a girlfriend now. A-and I’m happy for him. But I’m tired,” she confessed. The bags under her eyes were visible despite the mask, proving her statement to be nothing but true. “I’m tired… mentally, physically, emotionally. I’m tired… of being alone and friendless.”

Ladybug’s voice cracked. The tears started pouring down her cheeks, but she made no effort to stop them.

“I’m tired of the glares and disbelief at my words. I’m tired of being a third wheel and acting like everything is okay. I’m tired of being the Guardian and having all this responsibility. I’m tired of making mistakes and suffering the consequences. I’m tired of being the one who is supposed to have all the solutions, because I don’t have any. I can’t fix this mess. I’m useless, hopeless, and no one loves me,” she sobbed, her words becoming more and more illogical and nonsensical as she went on.

Chat couldn’t believe his ears, his heart pounding wildly. Did she really believe all that? He wanted badly to stop her, but he also knew he needed to let her finish.

“And you don’t even call me M'Lady or Bugaboo anymore, so even you are upset with me and I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost and alone,” she vented, dropping her face into her hands as she let her sobs take over, giving up on saying anything more.

Once Chat was sure she was finished talking, he pulled her into his arms, ready to face her reaction—whether it was resistance or a slap. He was relieved to find there was no struggle or rejection to his comforting embrace. He squeezed her tightly, making sure she could feel his warmth. He pulled her head to his chest, making sure she could hear his heartbeat.

She clutched at his chest and it made his heart soar, despite the serious and melancholic atmosphere.

He was heartbroken to see his Lady like this. But at the same time, he was relieved to finally hear her troubles and was touched that she had confided in him. He felt love coursing through his veins; the flames of his love for her were so easily rekindled. He had tried to move on with Kagami, but no one else had quite the same effect on his heart, mind, and body as Ladybug did. Even if she never returned his feelings, he would always love her.

Chat remained silent as he let her cry on him for as long as she needed. He stroked her back soothingly and buried his face in her hair, allowing her words to finally sink into his mind and thinking of a response to all of it.

After she had calmed down and was breathing normally, Chat figured it was now appropriate for him to respond to all her troubles.

Grabbing her shoulders, he slowly peeled her away from him so that he could look into her eyes as he spoke to her. Her eyes were swollen and red, still tearful and filled with sadness, but her beauty still shone through to his heart and made it flutter.

He held her gaze with intensity, wanting to ensure his words got through to her.

“First of all, you don’t have no one. You have me. And you’ll always have me. And as much of a moron as this boy you like sounds, it sounds like you have him too. Even if he is a total idiot,” he reassured, muttering the last part.

A tiny snort escaped from Ladybug, causing a momentary grin to split across Chat’s face. He quickly returned to his serious demeanor and continued.

“Your friends and classmates may not believe you right now, but that doesn’t mean they don’t like you and it doesn’t mean this situation will last. The truth always finds it way. And if they truly don’t like you because of what one girl says, then do you really want them as friends anyway? You’re a genuine person and deserve the same kindness from others, and you shouldn’t take anything less,” he said, speaking slowly and making sure to emphasize her worth. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you right now. I wish I could be there to stop it all. But, honestly, I know how strong you are, Ladybug, and I know you can get through this.”

Ladybug was biting her lip, her eyes still sad and frown lines marring her beautiful features. She stared back at him and listened intently, doing her best to grasp and believe in what her partner was saying.

“As for the Guardian situation, you’re doing an amazing job already. Heck, I’d say you’re going to be a much better Guardian than Master Fu—no offense to Master Fu, of course. You’re clever, smart, resourceful, creative, a great leader, and a great judge of character. All the superheroes you’ve picked so far have been great choices, some moreso than others, of course, but none of them have made any grave mistakes. Hawk Moth hasn’t defeated us under your watch. Nobody has died with you as the Guardian. Nobody has been seriously injured. The team dynamics work well, the holders you’ve chosen take their job seriously and are good people, none of them have joined sides with Hawk Moth. The exception being Chloé, but that’s not your fault. Besides, you were able to take over being the Guardian on a spur of the moment and still managed to win against Hawk Moth! Is Hawk Moth still out there? Yes, but that’s not because of you. You didn’t make him a stubborn villain out to get Paris, that’s all him. Sure, you’ve made a few mistakes, Ladybug, but you’re human and anyone else would have made far more mistakes than you have, trust me. You’re doing an amazing job and I don’t think—no, I know—there’s no one better suited to doing this than you,” Chat squeezed her shoulders as he implored her to understand and accept his words. “One more thing: I’m always here to help you with this. If it ever gets to be too much, tell me. We can swap kwamis or I can take care of the box for a little bit.”

Ladybug looked at him with wide eyes. Silently, she swallowed and slowly nodded, looking ready to say something.

“Wait, please, let me finish,” he pleaded. “To be honest, I think we should reveal our identities to each other. Not knowing who you are means I can’t ever come to you for the Miraculous or for advice or brainstorming. When Master Fu was the Guardian, I’m sure you found it helpful being able to locate him. He was part of the team and you could brainstorm together. I think it would be beneficial for us to know one another. But that’s ultimately your decision as the Guardian. But I just want you to know I am more than willing to help out and shoulder the burden with you.”

Fresh tears had sprung to Ladybug’s eyes again. She looked down, contemplating the idea he had planted.

“Also, I stopped calling your M'Lady and Bugaboo because I had been trying to move on from you. Whenever I say your nicknames, I feel a surge of love for you… but also a surge of sadness. I know you aren’t interested in me and, as much as I still love you, I don’t want to force my love on you. I thought you didn’t care for the nicknames and that it would be a relief for you not to hear them anymore,” he confessed, scratching the back of his neck ashamedly. “But if it had the opposite effect and is making you sad, then I won’t hold back anymore and will keep on using my nicknames for you.”

“Mon minou…” Ladybug whispered affectionately, the tears spilling from her eyes once again.

This time Chat didn’t hesitate in delicately wiping them from her with his index finger.

“As for that boy… he must be the biggest dumbass on the planet to have chosen someone else over you. If I ever find out who he is, his face is going to have a very pleasant meeting with my fist,” Chat said threateningly, a dark look taking over his face.

“Please don’t hurt him! Kagami is a great girl and I completely understood why he chose her,” Ladybug admitted dejectedly, but forced a small smile on her face. “It’s okay. He’s happy, so I’m happy.”

Chat growled, but then his eyebrows shot up.

Kagami was not a common name.

“Kagami… Tsurugi?” he asked for clarification.

Ladybug turned pale.

“U-um, I don’t know if that’s her last name,” she replied. It wasn’t completely a lie. She knew the last name started with a “Tsu” sound but it wasn’t like Japanese names were easy for her to remember. Of course, she was almost certain they were both speaking about the same girl at this point.

Chat Noir took her reply as confirmation. Ladybug’s boy was dating Kagami.

But wait, no one was dating Kagami right now. Sure, he as Adrien had dated her for a little bit, but it didn’t last long and they were now back to being friends.

So Kagami was single now. But she didn’t have many friends and Adrien knew she didn’t have a boyfriend.

Which meant…

Adrien was the boy Ladybug liked.

Chat began to internally panic as he started putting the pieces together.

Ladybug also looked panicked.

What had Ladybug said? A girl at school had turned everyone against her, except for one boy.

At school, Lila had turned everyone against… Marinette.

Which meant…

Ladybug is Marinette.

Chat Noir stared incredulously at his Lady. At Marinette.

Marinette, who had a deer-in-headlights look on her face, stared back at him, dread creeping into her expression.

“I’ve been a world-class, grade A idiot!” Chat Noir practically yelled. “I need to punch myself!”

Ladybug gasped at his declaration, it was not exactly what she had been expecting him to say.

“Marinette,” was all he said, before taking her face into his hands and crashing his lips onto hers.

The kiss was passionate but quick, over before Ladybug could even close her eyes or comprehend what exactly had just happened.

“I’m in love with you. Deeply in love with you, Marinette. I’m so sorry I’ve been the world’s biggest dumbass. Please forgive me, I really love you so much,” Chat spilled, his confession of love desperate and pleading.

Ladybug blushed brilliantly, but still look confused.

Chat rested his hands on her shoulders again and squeezed gently as he explained.

“I’m not dating Kagami. I did for a little bit, but only because I was trying to move on from you. Gosh, I can’t believe I have been so dumb. I even asked you on a double date to the ice rink and made you think you were a third wheel at the hotel. Marinette, I always felt something special for you, even though I didn’t know you were Ladybug. But I never attempted to date you, because I was stupidly certain that you only ever thought of me as a friend and I desperately didn’t want to ruin that. I had always taken your words at face value: you said I was a friend and I thought you were trying to say that’s all we could be. I never realized you liked me in that way,” Chat said, then sighed. He really wanted to slap himself.

“A-Adrien?” Ladybug gasped, the pieces finally falling into place after the whirlwind of a kiss and confession.

A sheepish grin spread across his face.

“At your service, M'Lady,” he replied goofily, pressing a small kiss to her fingers, an apologetic look seeping in his eyes.

Ladybug slapped her hands over her mouth as she looked at him, her eyes grazing over his features—his hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his jaw—to compare him to Adrien in her mind.

“Adrien,” she whispered breathlessly, lowering her hands from her mouth. Then she began flapping her hands in a panic. “Oh-ohmygoodness. Oh no, no, no. This wasn’t meant to happen! Our identities were meant to remain a secret. I’ve messed up again.”

Ladybug clutched her head dramatically as she began catastrophisizing over the new predicament.

Chat gently pried her fingers from her head and held them to his chest.

“You didn’t mess up. This is a happy accident, I promise. Trust me,” he reassured. “Now I can be here for you as Adrien and Chat.”

Ladybug gnawed at her lip in thought as she took in his reassuring words. Releasing it with a sigh, she once again studied his face as she tried to steady her breathing. She reached forward and brushed her fingers along his mask, envisioning him without it. He was her partner and the boy she loved. He was the one she trusted the most and the one she pined for, yet also the one she rejected. She could hardly believe it.

Chat’s heart sped up at her soft touch. He felt like his love was overwhelming and ready to escape, like it might spill out and flood all of Paris.

Looking at her now, he really couldn’t believe how dumb he had been.

It was himself who hadn’t been there enough for Marinette at school, who had been oblivious to her pain and suffering. He would have to change that. And he would do everything in his power to do so. It was him and her against the world, as usual, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was also going to do everything in his power to help her with her Guardian responsibilities.

Ladybug removed her fingers as he started talking again.

“Marinette, I’m really sorry about Lila and everyone else at school. I’m really sorry I hadn’t noticed it had gotten so bad. I’m really sorry I haven’t done anything. Please let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything to help you win back the class and expose Lila’s lies, if that’s what you want, of course. But if you want me to stand silently by your side instead, I can also do that. I think it’s best we put a stop to Lila’s lies, of course, but I will always follow your decision as I know you’ll make the best one,” Chat offered, lifting his hand to brush the back of his fingers lovingly across her cheek. “And I’ll help you with your Guardian duties. Anything you need, I’ll help with. Even if you don’t ask for my help, though, I’ll still help you anyway. I’m here for you, and I can be here for you even more, now that I know who you are. I care about you, Marinette. And I love you. And, again, I’m sorry.”

Ladybug giggled as more tears were released. She shook her head and wiped them away.

“Thank you, Adrien. I’m sorry, too. For telling you I only thought of you as a friend… It was my own fault I drove you away. I just hadn’t been ready to tell you the truth… and had missed my opportunity as a result. I unknowingly helped push you into Kagami’s arms. And I should have reached out to you more, to ask for your help. But I assumed you were with Kagami and I didn’t want to bother your happiness with my problems with Lila and the class. I also assumed you were upset with me as Chat, so I didn’t ask you for help or support. I have been going through a lot, but it was me who failed to reach out to anyone. I didn’t even try to ask my parents for help. I just felt helpless and didn’t know who to go to. I’m really grateful you reached out to me first, otherwise this would have continued on for so much longer. Thank you, Adrien, for asking me what was wrong tonight. For giving me the push to finally admit to all the problems I’ve been facing. And for offering your help. I wish I had come to you for help ages ago. But I didn’t know how it would go. And I’ve always been so scared of confrontation and rejection. I was scared you would hurt me, too… Which I now realize was completely silly and insane, because I know I can trust you. So, I’m sorry, too, for all this mess. All these misunderstandings. And thank you. For everything,” Ladybug said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into her embrace.

Chat Noir felt warmth spread through his body, from his heart to the tips of his toes, to the tips of his fingers, to the tips of his ears. He returned the embrace, his arms curling around her petite frame and gently squeezing her. He burrowed his face into her shoulder and inhaled, basking in her sweet scent.

“I love you, Marinette,” he repeated, unable to contain his overflowing feelings for her.

He felt her lips curve upwards against his neck, her face emanating heat.

“I love you, too, Adrien,” she whispered reverently.

His heart beat erratically at the words he had been longing to hear for a very long time. Finally, his mind was at peace.

And so was hers.

Chat turned his head to the side and cupped her cheek, turning her to align with his lips and kissed her again. Ladybug happily returned the kiss, her hand slipping into his blond mop of golden hair.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Chat asked, “Ready for patrol, M'Lady? We can’t start skimping on our duties just because your kisses are irresistible.”

Ladybug giggled and playfully swatted his arm.

“Fine, but just so you know, you’ll have to resist at school and in public for now. Until we figure out the Lila situation, I don’t think it’s a good idea for our relationship to be known, as she will probably find some way to twist things around. And I don’t think it would be professional for two superheroes to be romantically involved… At least not publicly,” Ladybug stated. “Do you agree?”

“Yes I do, Bugaboo,” he replied with a wry grin and a wink. It was so typical of her to be so responsible, but that’s part of what he found so amazing about her.

Giving into their desires a little bit, they exchanged a few more kisses before they set off for patrol.

They still had many obstacles left to face, but they would face them together as a team. As partners. As friends. And now also as secret lovers.

[fallen029]

So Soon

She was doing her makeup.

Early that morning.

She was standing in Laxus Dreyar's bathroom, leaning over the sink as she did her makeup while the man himself strode into the bathroom, mostly unconcerned with her presence it seemed as, slipping passed her, he only had one thing to grumble at her.

"Didn't fuckin' use all the hot water, did you?" he questioned gruffly. "Demon?"

And she only hummed in reply, not a true answer, but enough of one it seemed as he only took to muttering under his breath as, after turning the faucet for the shower, he began to strip down.

It was all so casual.

Perhaps too casual.

Mirajane wasn't certain when it got like that. It felt rather sudden as she considered it that day, watching the man in the mirror as he stood there for a moment, nude, and shivering before he stepped into the shower stall. When he felt her eyes, he glanced over his shoulder with his typical void gaze.

"Can never be too clean," he remarked to the woman with a raising of one eyebrow. "If you wanted to slide right back outta those clothes-"

"I have to get to the guildhall," she told him with a shake of her head and a refocusing back onto her own reflection. "I'm already late."

"Late." He snorted as he moved to step into the stall. Speaking louder now, as his voice was deadened by the falling water, he remarked, "Sun ain't even up yet."

"It will be in ten minutes," she assured him, "and by then I need to have the doors open and get started on breakfast prep."

"Why?"

He was like a toddler at times, rather than a grown man, purposely acting aloof. Mirajane would love to be annoyed by this, but if anything, it was more personality infringement on his part because, well, it wasn't like she didn't do her fair share of it.

"Because," she practically sang as, standing back, she looked over her reflection carefully, "it's my job, dragon."

"What do you think's gonna happen, huh?" he griped. "Old geezer ain't ever gonna fire you. None of those peons at the hall are going to complain at you."

"It's still," she insisted, "my job."

"So breakfast is late," he kept up. "What's the worst that happens then?"

"Uh, people who are counting on me to feed them are let down," she reminded. "And put behind schedule."

"Fuck their schedules. Fuck them."

"Why do you have such a foul mouth so early?"

"Because I want ya to get in the fuckin' shower with me."

"It's not good, Lax," she called over the falling water, "to get worked up over things that were never going to happen in the first place?"

"Do what?" he questioned, as if he suddenly couldn't make out her words, and maybe he couldn't, but Mirajane didn't find she much wanted to play into him any longer. Or, even if she did, that she was officially out of time to do so.

Though she might not have crossed the wrought iron gates at the exact moment she ascribed to, Mirajane was at the hall in plenty of that day to begin her daily tasks. There were floors and dishes to be scrubbed, mugs and silverware to be polished, bacon to be fried and eggs to be scrambled, as well as some meat to roast for the dinner crowd that evening. The pool area needed new towels and the bath house needed a to be mopped. There were new jobs to tack up and plenty of drinks to be served, as well as idle conversations to begin and the Master to contend with.

Her day was packed.

It always was.

But her mind seemed out of sorts that day and as she struggled through beginning each of those tasks with strong intent on following through with them, but she was hardly to noon when she noted her sister stroll in with the Salamander and Happy, all three laughing over something and no doubt hoping to have something stiff to drink and warm to eat, but instead, Mirajane gifted them only with concern.

"Sick?" Lisanna questioned as her joy was sucked right out of her. "But you never get sick."

"Stay away from me," Natsu told her as he tossed the fabric of his shirt up over his nose. "I can't get sick right now. Not with S-Class right around the corner."

"What's wrong, Mira?" Happy questioned as he fluttered by in concern, but did toss his furry paws over his own face, not hoping to catch any of her germs. "Do you have a fever?"

"No," she was quick to say, not one prone to lies, but also fearful of being caught in one. "I just, well… I feel...unwell. Just unwell."

"Pregnant unwell?" Happy asked hopefully and Natsu made a face at the implication from beneath makeshift mask while Lisanna only eyed her sister carefully.

"N-No," Mirajane insisted with a frown. But then, as the Exceed seemed to flutter more with excitement, she tilted her own head in thought. "Well-"

"Mira, if you're sick," her sister interrupted their pipe dreaming, "then you should go home. Here, I'll take over for you, okay?"

"Well," she sighed as she moved then to begin untying her apron. "If you think so."

"I," Lisanna kept up, "insist."

"Okay." Mira even braved (or at least had trouble containing) a smile. "Well, you're going to need to go into Master's office in about half an hour and give him his afternoon medicine."

"Alright."

"And run the bar."

"Of course."

"And check the meat that is roasting as well as get the dishes from the breakfast rush at least somewhat taken care of and, oh, Kinana isn't scheduled to come in for another three hours, and you still have to get the rest of the jobs cycled out on the board, mop the bath house, start the laundry from both it and the pool, and-"

"And," Happy took over, "I need a fish."

"And get happy a fish," Mirajane finished with a confident nod.

It wasn't quite what Lisanna had written all over her face, but she nodded anyways and Mirajane felt awful, truly she did, but as she left the hall that day, feigning fatigue and a slight bit of nausea, the woman actually had never been better.

"What are you doing here?" was the greeting from her boyfriend when, after politely knocking at the man's door (though they'd exchanged keys, she always sought to respect his boundaries...mostly; at least the ones she'd like returned back to her), it was opened to reveal a dressed slayer with just the hint of a snarl still placed on his face. He hadn't been expecting her, or anyone no doubt, and was not pleased that his personal time was potentially being disturbed. "Is everything okay? Forget something?"

"I'm," she told him simply, "sick."

"Then why the hell did you come here?"

His tone was annoyed and, much like his counterpart, he moved to bury his nose and mouth beneath the neckline of his shirt, but unlike the steps backwards Natsu had taken, Laxus was moving to drag the barmaid into his apartment. She giggled, somewhat amused by his actions, but allowing herself to be tugged along.

"Not really, dragon," she assured the grumbling man as he shut the apartment door behind her. "It's just what I told them."

"Told who?" he questioned as his nose came peeking back out from beneath his t-shirt.

"Lisanna and Happy. And Natsu." Then she tilted her head back and tapped a finger against her chin. "Well, I'm not sure they thought I was sick, rightly, but pregnant, at least."

"Yeah well- Pregnant?" Laxus did take his steps backwards from her then, nearly falling over a pair of boots he kept by the door. "Are you serious woman?"

"No," she told him honestly. "Dragon. I hardly ever am. You know that."

They had a moment then, between the two of them, where he only stared incrediously at his girlfriend and she smiled warmly up at him, watching his chest jump as he tried to regulate his breathing once more.

"So," he began slowly, "you're not pregnant."

"Not that I know of. And I'm rather in tune with myself."

"And," he kept up, "you're not sick."

"Again, not that I know of."

"Then...why are you here? Mira? During the workday?"

It was her turn to be at least somewhat bashful as, though Mirajane was a naturally rather open person, it was hard at times for her, with men she was so heavily interested in. Especially when it was a draining a love interest as Laxus had been for her as of late. It had felt so whirlwind, only months before, when the pair started to infrequently see one another, but the last few weeks had been quite serious and exclusivity had been tossed around, even, to the seeming acceptance of both parties and…

And…

"I just wanted to be with you. For longer. Laxus." She felt her cheeks heat up in a way they typically didn't. "If that's okay. I mean, if you're busy-"

"I just had to get up early and go to the market," he informed her plainly. "Then this evening I have tentative plans to meet up with Bickslow and Freed for drinks, but-"

"O-Oh, well-"

'If my woman's sick though," he cut her off rather definitively, "then0"

"You don't have to-"

"I'll hang out with them tomorrow night." He closed the gap between them then, not truly smiling, but certainly not looking as glum as he usually did. "I'll run out, tell them something came up, snag us some takeout for dinner-"

"Think you're up for me staying the night again?" she questioned as her hands pressed firmly against his chest and Laxus only loomed over her, his grin more noticeable as she stared up into it.

"Of course," he agreed softly, reaching out with one hand gently run a thumb over her warm, rosy cheek. As she giggled, he added, "But I dunno if you should."

"Why not?"

"I mean," Laxus reminded, "it is, apparently, so hard for you to leave me."

"So hard."

"And I don't want you to skip out on work again tomorrow, just for my sake."

"Of course not."

"So-"

"So," she reasoned, "I guess tomorrow when you get up to hop in the shower, it's going to be with the intention of joining me down at the hall, right?"

"What?"

"Bright and early?"

"Demon-"

"If you get up early enough," she enticed, "I might even let you join mine, dragon."

There was a glint in his eyes then as, leaning down, he rested his forehead against hers and furthered the stakes, "We get up early enough, that nice big bath house up at the guild will be all empty."

"That's true," Mira agreed. "I'll have the women's side all to myself and you'll have the men's-"

"Demon-"

"I just didn't expect to like you this much," she admitted to him softly and, as the blush returned, she had to fall forwards some, so that she could hide her words into his chest. "Laxus. So soon. But I really do."

He took a moment, the slayer did, shocked a bit, maybe, before laughing some as he bowed his head even more and wrapped his arms tightly around the woman.

"Yeah, well," he whispered, "I guess I must be something, you skipping out on your precious guildhall for me."

"Just this once," she promised and she meant it as she finally broke away from him some. A smile returning to her lips, she said, "So I guess we better use this day to our advantage, huh?"

"Yeah." Laxus hand came up again, just to brush a fingertip or two across her soft pale skin. "I guess we better."

[buirbaby]

The Wardens: An Unlikely Ally

Notes:  Benjen Stark is a bit of a fun project for me. There's not much on him given his disappearances in the books, which means he'll be a fun canon to have join along the saga who really didn't have the chance to shine through. I know this might draw questions about Coldhands and so forth, but it's never actually confirmed that that IS Benjen.

Rating: M + Mature content, language, and violence

Masterlist | First | Next

The last thing he saw was a shadow swooping down from the sky and knocking the Other away from him. Afterward, everything was disjunct, muddled, and out of order. The woman, Tabitha was it?-she'd grabbed him and put him on some sort of mount. They had fled. How, he could not say, but he could remember the fierce burning of fiery eyes, hidden beneath the midnight cowl of the female as she'd glared at him earlier. There seemed to be quite a few things that Benjen had not seen before that night, to include wights, an Other, and a woman with eyes of fire. A blazing beacon amongst the frozen boughs of the haunted forest.

Then everything went dark and the pain ebbed away. He was floating in an abyss, nothing and everything at once. It took him a while to realize that he was dead and that there was no afterlife as the Seven preached, just an emptiness in which he conscious could float within and wonder if the woman had survived.

There would be no answers here, just eternal gripes and curiosities.

Until the darkness was juxtaposed by a flame, burning and twisting like serpentine tongues. Erring close, Benjen could see within the writhing fire, three dragons sailing overhead, toward Westeros. Death, war, famine, misery. But the dragons were not the worst of it, just a part of the machinations as the undead stole one, wielding it against their master and destroying the wall to unleash the unholy army upon the unsuspecting. No one knew that they were real. They were wetnurses' tales.

When he reached out to grab the vision, he gasped, the fire consuming his flesh and burning him. No, not burning as it should. He could feel each nerve, muscle, and fiber of his being twinging back into existence. Death had come for him, but a flaming hand had gripped and pulled him from perdition.

The ambivalence of the void faded and as he turned over where he laid, he heard voices in the distance.

"Were you told to bring him here?" he did not know this voice, but it chilled him to the bone, so youthful and yet scarred by the wisdom of centuries.

"I did what I felt was right," it was the fire-eyed woman, Tabitha. "It does not matter. He has died regardless of my help. Just as-"

"Just as intended?" the other filled in.

"I don't know! It was never confirmed, there were only theories," she hissed.

"Do you hear that?"

Only the crackling of the hearth in front of Benjen filled his ears with noise.

"No, Fang-"

But the companion had departed, leaving the woman huffing in frustration. Her footsteps drew nearer and she passed in front of the hearth, lean shoulders framed by the light as she had put away her cloak within the warmth of the room.

"What do you think, Balerion?" she spoke to another, a great shadow unfurling and tensing his heart. The creature that had knocked the Other back came into hazy focus, a thick lion's mane of feathers and fur encircling an enormous eagle's face, intelligent eyes glistening with the same bright flames as the woman who commanded him. After a moment of silence, she shook her head. "We probably won't be able to stay here much longer. Not with the Others marching. Who knows how far behind the Night King is."

"How do you know so much about them?" Benjen spoke hoarsely, his voice sounding as if he hadn't used it in days.

The both of them jumped, Tabitha whirling with her hand on her sword as she gazed down intently where he was laying. "How the fuck- " she started, interrupted only by the slapping of barefeet against stone. Turning a corner, the other voice's visage came into view, and Benjen was shocked into silence once again, staring at a boy of legend. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so startled, but clutched in his tawny arms was a miniature version of the griffin that had fluffed up indignantly. Only the feathers of the fledgling was grey dappled with black.

"Another Warden has been born," he declared, feline eyes turning toward Benjen.

"Fang, that doesn't even make sense. How could he have been..." but she didn't finish her question, dark brows snaring together. "You're still Benjen Stark, aren't you?"

He didn't understand the question, but decided to humor her. "Yes."

"I am not here to explain how things work," Fang scowled. "He has been reborn as a Warden. That means he's been given insight."

"I should get back to the Wall. If what I saw was true, I need to warn everyone," Benjen decided, sitting up and pulling back the cloak that had been strewn over him.

"Your watch ended, Warden. You died and were reborn," the creature, Fang, asserted.

"I still have a duty to Westeros, to my people-"

"Tell me, Stark, what is it you're going to tell everyone that will make them believe you?" Tabitha inquired, leaning against the forge, so that he was able to really observe the woman's face. She did not look or sound Westerosi. If anything, he thought she appeared more Dornish, despite lacking their accent. Her skin was a faded olive from missing the warmth of the sun this far north, her bright eyes framed by dark lashes, and her lips curved in a mocking manner. Dark brown hair had been shorn to fall thick and straight to her collar, parted in the middle and slightly wavy from being pressed beneath a hood. There was a roguish charm to her, nothing quite soft and dainty or willowy as most men preferred in a lady, but this woman was no flower. She had wielded a sword well enough and was tall and lean. Perhaps comely could be used to describe her, the symmetry of her face, but her eyes were also haunting.

"The Others are real and that-" he was going to express his knowledge of the dragons, that they would be coming to Westeros and that there would be war and strife, juxtaposed by the fact that the long night was looming on the horizon. Yet, as he tried to put this knowledge to word, he found himself choking on air, his voice failing him.

"That's what I thought," she remarked smugly, lifting the hand she'd injured during the fight, which was now bound. "Whatever you know, you won't be able to verbalize it. One of the Wardens' most redeeming features. For everything we know, our words shall not serve us, our actions must."

"I can warn them of the Others at the very least," he groused.

"Can you? If you return to Castle Black, they will not understand your rebirth or your need to leave on a moment's notice. We are slaves to the will of the one who saved us, the Lord of Light, R'hllor. Would it not be better for you to be thought to be dead than to have to abandon your post when the Lord of Light commands it?" Tabitha challenged.

"I don't serve this Lord of Light," Benjen rejected, shaking his head.

"Then you'd be dead. It was He who revived you. Are the words not ' Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death '? Your watch has ended and a new one has begun," Tabitha stood up, pacing the length of the room to retrieve supplies from an alcove in the stone.

"Not as if I was given the choice to make an oath in this circumstance," Benjen grimaced, wondering what else would be expected of him as a 'Warden'.

"Don't sound so thrilled. I wasn't given a choice either. Burned to death and woke up here with Balerion," she jerked her thumb over toward the magnificent beast. "Trust me, it doesn't make much sense, but I've just learned to stop questioning it. Here, you must be starving-" she returned with a waterskin, jerky, and black bread. Sitting nearby, she placed her elbows on her knees and hunched forward.

"Burned to death?" Benjen considered, glancing over her once again. "This Lord of Light really knows how to pick his champions, hm?"

The woman snickered. "I didn't feel it. Was unconscious from the smoke beforehand," her eyes flickered over toward Fang. "But this little welp is yours, just as Balerion is my partner. A Warden is a guide, a keeper of knowledge, and wargs-" The griffin was set on the floor as she continued to explain their plight, waiting on the Lord of Light to task them with their duty before sending them on the holy mission to aid in altering the future. While she spoke, the young creature, no larger than a house cat, stumbled on weak feet and tumbled unceremoniously before him, head too heavy for the rest of its tiny body.

He could not deny that there seemed to be a connection between them, the excitement palpable and rolling of the griffin in waves. The features of the little one were unlike the large obsidian one across the room, lacking the immense mane. Rather, his fur was thicker, the plumage of his feathers not as defined or prominent. In a way, the griffin had more canine features, a thick tail, and broader ear tufts.

The Wardens themselves were a rather ambiguous group, something he'd never heard of and yet here he sat with one and their griffin. Had it not been for his own revival from death and the mythical beast pawing at his leg, he might've scoffed at the information being passed over to him. One oath down and a new job set before him, Benjen resigned himself to the fact that his life was eternally destined to be interlaced with servitude. Only now, the complexities of magic and the fantastic had their own roles to play. Everything he'd thought was little more than old wive's tales, turning out to hold substance. Even the legend of the Children of the Forest was worth its salt, Fang erring near the entrance of the warm hearth room as Tabitha explained that their days were numbered.

Finally, the short being departed, leaving just the Wardens and their partners in the room. By now, the griffin had found its way into his lap and had curled up, wrapping its tail around its talons. "They won't do us much good against dragons, but so far I don't regret having Balerion by my side. We wouldn't have made it out of the haunted forest without him."

Dragons. His interest piqued, wondering how much she knew about the topic. "Dragons are dead, aren't they?"

"For now, give it a few more months' time-" Tabitha snorted, brows snaring together as the comment fell from her lips. Confusion was blatant on her face, her spine stiffening as she sat up and stared at him, almost in an accusing manner. "Dragons are going to be reborn once Khal Drogo is burned on a pyre. In which Daenerys Targaryen shall acquire 3 dragons."

He knew that name. The daughter of King Aerys, who had somehow survived the sacking of Dragonstone. Her family wasn't as fortunate. "You know then... That they're going to come here and one will fall into the clutches of the Others-" His tongue was no longer tied, the future spilling from his lips unhindered.

"I... know a lot of things," Tabitha admitted darkly. "Wardens can share information with Wardens..." she muttered, rubbing her face thoughtfully before glancing back toward him. "Makes sense, I guess... I suppose we'll also be able to tell when there's an eavesdropper or intruder."

"So Daenerys Targaryen is going to come to Westeros with 3 dragons," Benjen pieced together, the images he'd seen not possessing a narrative to go along with it.

"Yes, with intentions of taking the Iron Throne for herself. She will realize she needs to help destroy the army of the undead, but there's still a lot of unknown... how dominoes might fall now that you've survived," Tabitha sighed.

"I wasn't supposed to survive?"

"You were supposed to disappear and be presumed dead," Tabitha told him. "As far as I know, you never returned... but then again, all I know is script, not images."

"Then... if we're to be successful, I need to understand everything."

"If I tell you everything, you must understand that we have to adhere to what we're assigned to alter, because a lot of it has to deal with your family," Tabitha warned.

"I've taken oaths before and sworn myself to other causes. I think I can handle what you have to tell me."

That is what Benjen thought before Tabitha sighed and started from the beginning, recounting things that she was not around to witness, speaking in poetry like a prophet that had written the lines of their lives on parchment. She was right, he was not prepared for the intricacies of the world that he would have been better off being daft to. His derision and distrust of the Lannisters deepened, his breath quickening as he learned that it was they that hurt Bran and wished his death. But that was only the most minor of the plights to face House Stark. From the death of his brother at the hand of the Lannisters, to the rise of his nephew as a king, the betrayal and hurt was too much to bear.

Yet, Benjen sat, as it was his duty as a Warden. The web was not only woven with the Starks, but many other faces and names, some of which he was familiar with and others he was not. For as snarky as the woman seemed, Tabitha had an impeccable memory and a talent to retell this all like a story.

When she stopped, he lifted his head to gaze intently at her, his chest aching, but wondering why she'd ended so abruptly. "What happens after? With Jon, with Arya-"

"I can only speculate, that is where my true knowledge of the events of the future ends. You tell me that Daenerys will come to Westeros and lose a dragon to the Night King. Jon will likely be revived by the Lord of Light... Arya will continue her trials to become a Faceless Man, but the others--if we change the future, none of this is certain," Tabitha pointed out tenderly, remarkably softer than she had been previously.

He shouldn't have expected for all of the answers, especially given how much she knew and the years between now and when she'd ended, but... he really wished he knew what became of them. Already, he knew that many of them would die, including Ned, Robb, and Catelyn. In his gut, he wanted to go to them, to free them of their fate, but as he'd had his duty to the Watch, he had to trust in the Lord of Light to give him the opportunity to save them.

"I'll... give you some time alone. I know it's a lot to process," Tabitha stood up, stretching her back like a feline that had lounged out in the sun for too long, before striding away, glancing toward her griffin companion before departing from the chamber.

Benjen sat in silence, wondering if he would have been better off dead than with the vast knowledge and pressure he now felt.

*

"You're leaving yourself wide open," Benjen chastised, smacking Tabitha hard on the side of her arm with the flat of his blade.

"Right, well, my sincerest apologies for not wielding a sword since I could walk," she combatted haughtily, frustrated by her inability to best him.

It wasn't that she was a bad swordsman. In fact, she was quick as a whip and relentless when she was on the offense. However, she seemed to forget that her advantage in speed was outweighed by a man's strength. She often put herself in positions in which she could be placed out of balance and then open for attack. The form was there, as was the finesse, but he had learned by now that Tabitha had a bit of a temper that he could play like a harp. Against most men, she'd win, but against true savants or those that had spent years honing their craft, they'd pick up on the same chinks in her skill as he did.

The Roost was not a bad place, nor his newest companions too disagreeable. It had taken him a little while to grow accustomed to Tabitha's frank attitude and lack of decorum, but he likened it to comrades speaking to one another, not a woman to a man. Putting aside the facets of gender, Benjen found that Tabitha was responsible, reliable, and someone he would have liked to work alongside in the Night's Watch had she been a man. Now, as two Wardens with the task of saving the future that they knew, he was glad that he was with someone as capable as Tabitha, who seemed to have an uncanny memory and been given a scholarly education.

"React less emotionally," Benjen challenged, unable to stop himself from grinning as he thought of the times he'd told Jon the same thing when he was just a young boy. Or perhaps even Arya, who would have loved to be given the chance to be a warrior as a woman. He did not know how Tabitha's talents would transition in Westeros, given the fact a woman wielding a sword was nearly always unacceptable. Trying to think of her in a dress was amusing, as he'd only ever known her in trousers and armor, seemingly somewhat of a permanent fixture for the woman in place of what he'd grown up knowing females should wear.

Her nostrils flared and she came at him again, twisting Fate around in a counterclockwise motion before he parried the blow. The weight was light, barely a kiss of steel against steel, warning him that he'd fallen for the feint. Still, the man was quick enough to see as she redirected herself. Twisting his wrist to counter the next, he was astonished when she dropped beneath his blade and swept her leg beneath him, hooking a boot behind his leg and jerking him right off his feet.

Benjen slammed down hard on his back, collapsing into the remnants of an old nest, muscles groaning in protest from the hard, stone floor than embraced him. Tabitha loomed over him, pointing the triangular tip of her longsword down at him.

"How long?" he muttered, sitting up and accepting the glove she'd offered him to pull him back to his feet.

"How long what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"How long were you pretending to cross?"

Tabitha scoffed, as if offended that she'd play that game, but sheathed her sword. "I figured it out a couple of days ago. You always pointed out my anger, so I decided to set a trap."

"It took you a couple of days to set the trap?" Benjen poked.

"Well, there'd be no fun in closing it right away. Especially when you were being wary of me calming down enough to give you a run for your coin," Tabitha shrugged. "Still don't think a trick like that will be enough to defeat an Other, but it's progress."

"Probably not," Benjen agreed.

Tabitha's head whipped toward the grin in the mountainside where the griffins could come and go as they pleased. She had a better sense of when Balerion was arriving, her warging abilities more finely tuned over the years than his own. While he might be a better swordsman, Tabitha had him in the category of magic. "Look who's brought back quite a catch," she whistled, placing her hands on her hips as Balerion flung an elk corpse in through the opening. "Let's carve it up before it decides that we're supper."

The powerful griffin landed soon after, followed closely by Torrhen, who was a little uncertain on his wings, but managed to keep up as he grew into a gawky state where his talons were becoming too large for him to know what to do with. Dropping his own prize of a fat rabbit, he glanced expectantly toward Benjen, waiting for praise.

“Better than last time,” he remarked, bending down to brush the thick ears of the griffin down affectionately. “You’d better eat it quickly.”

Torrhen glanced from his rabbit and then to the elk, poising the silent question as to if they needed to share his catch too.

“No, you’re growing. Eat that yourself. Balerion brought plenty enough back to share.” No sooner had he said that did the massive beast dig its talons into the back of the carcass. Twisting, it snapped the spine and helped divide the elk in half, leaving the left side of the body for them to dress. Dragging the rest away, Balerion threw an expectant look at Torrhen, the tiny counterpart hobbling after his much larger brother.

“Ruined the pelt,” Tabitha chastised Balerion, who let out a huff in disdain at her dismay. She drew her knife and began working, Benjen crouching beside her to assist. It was dirty work, but the griffins were keen on the organs and head, so there’d be no reason to dispose of the waste, instead leaving the mess clustered in the roosting area of the mountain as they divided the remaining elk and dragged it toward the Hearth.

Sitting by the warmth of the eternally burning forge, they worked in relative silence. There wasn’t always a need for conversation and Benjen was unbothered by the woman’s company. Salting and hanging large haunches in the back of the room, the work took a few hours, but would result in a couple weeks worth of food for the both of them. The griffins had been retrieving food as of late, Fang citing that it was too dangerous for them all to go out and hunt after hearing the harrowing tale of their encounter with the Other.

Tabitha sat up on one of the benches, rubbing the arm that he’d taken the flat of his blade to absentmindedly. Her eyes were fixated on the twisting wreath of flames within the forge. A forge that neither of them knew how to use, nor why it was in this mountain. It gave them warmth and protection from the darkness of the frozen north, but otherwise its existence was a mystery. Her brows pressed together and she stood, taking a few paces toward the fire.

Benjen tilted his head, gazing toward the hearth in an effort to notice what she was transfixed upon. Tongues leapt out at him, images burning a path across the fire, a dragon’s shadow lifting to reveal a beautiful city and a crowd of impressive, queerly dressed people as they gave gifts to a young girl. A rotund, greasy man opened a chest and presented three calcified eggs.

“It’s been decided,” Tabitha muttered.

Did she see what he saw?

“We are flying to Pentos.”

[qhostqizmo]

I will, I will, follow you into the storm

when you ‘round the bend // close your eyes and count to ten i’ll walk through hell and back again // anywhere you go

Blood dripped from Essätha’s nostril to pool on her upper lip, leaving it to slowly trickle down her chin. She grimaced, her head woozy and legs staggering as she tried to regain her composure. People weren’t supposed to feel their brain pounding against their skull, last she’d checked. In fact, the sorceress felt like she’d gotten hit by an ox and flung around a barbed fence for the past few minutes, which was definitely not a ‘normal’ bodily feeling.

Garbling out a string of curse words behind her tongue; now coated with a metallic flavor, Essie spat on the ground and turned frantically. Her entire body lurched in agony. She hissed, trying to make out shapes and figures through her dizziness.

“Amon?”

Terror lit up her voice. A pale gray Drow woman had her fingers wrapped around the nobleman’s throat. He was rigid; eyes wide as fingernails caressed his esophagus. The woman leaned in close as though to whisper something to him, her other arm raising to lift the shadow blade from her right hand.

The weapon never made its blow. As she’d moved to strike, a surge of dark magic spear-like bolts pummeled into her back. The woman shrieked, her gaze snapping towards Penimra’s snarky upturned beak. She grimaced at the high-elf, and instead vanished in a flood of dark mist and glowing eyes, to reappear close to the teleportation circle in the room.

“She’s going to escape!” Rava cried out, wiping at her sweaty brow.

“They’re cowards,” Face sneered in agreement, his crossbow bolt narrowly missing a human also fleeing for circle.

Wincing in pain, Essie looked between Amon and the enemy accomplices running for their assured get away. She’d never make it to the circle in time, and her magic was drained of anything of effective offense. On heavy legs, she rushed towards his side instead. Some things were simply more important than winning the fight.

With a roar, Sulhadur let out an inferno of blazing fire towards the closest cult members to him. One fell, screeching and smelling of burned flesh and hair, dead within seconds. The other two; barely clutching to life, also bolted for the circle. Clipping past Adela, the pink Tiefling pulled free a dagger on her hip to bury into one’s throat. They toppled over, gasping through a bloody windpipe, and fell dead.

The final remaining members finally seemed to scramble into the ring. As the recited spell to activate the teleportation circle began to fill the air, Essie grabbed Amon by the shoulders. He jerked into awareness, a sense of confusion still evident in his dark eyes.

“M’lord?” She grasped for his face, her fingers caressing his cheeks.

He gasped, clutching at his throat.

“What-?”

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know my head feels… foggy…”

Lifting his head, Essie followed his regard to squint at the flash of light igniting from the circle. With a crackle of energy, suddenly the few hostile enemies were nowhere to be seen.

Silence followed. Penimra’s voice was the first to break it, stating everyone’s sentiment in a single word: “Shit.”

As the others began to bandage themselves and roll over the bodies searching for any valuables, Essätha returned her gaze back on Amon. He stared, dumbfounded, where the teleportation circle was.

“How do you feel?” Essie pressed, her fingertips grazing affectionately over his sideburns.

“I…” Distracted, the nobleman looked around the room. He finally settled back to looking in her eyes, a small but tired smile appearing on his feastures. “I feel… fine, Essie. Considering.”

“Are you sure? Pri’cha should probably have a look at you. Pri-”

“Yes, niss Essätha?” A tiny voice chirped from a few feet away.

“I’m fine Essie,” Amon strained, “really.”

Unconvinced, she stared back into his gaze. He appeared a little shaken; his expression still puzzled, but he was not nearly as bloodied nor frazzled looking as the rest of him. Yet that interaction had been so strange.

“What had she said to you?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know,” he ushered vaguely. “Must have been some sort of threat. I was a bit preoccupied by the hand on my neck. I’m sorry.”

How very odd. Her mouth squiggled with indecision, but she felt pressuring him on it further wouldn’t help matters. If he claimed not to remember or been paying attention to the Drow’s words, then there was no helping the case. No one else had been close enough at the time to probably overhear, if they’d have had half the mind to be paying attention.

She let go of his face. The nobleman reached up, idly rubbing his cheek where her fingers had just been. Something in his far-off stare still seemed unsettling, but the sorceress couldn’t name why.

“Lets see if there’s anything useful on them before we check the rest of the building,” Amon proclaimed, offering her a gentle smile. He hesitated for a second as he looked at her, his pupils wide. He reached to his side, pawing at a pocket, before he pulled forth a handkerchief. Essätha remained patient and still as he attended to dabbing at her bloody nose, her eyes turning to half-slits. She’d forgotten to worry when he touched her so carefully. Back to being more like himself; chivalrous and kind.

“Sorry,” he muttered a bit shyly, folding over the cloth to daub at the red smear on her lips and chin.

“You’re doing fine,” she sighed despite herself. “Thank you.”

He smiled back at her, and her heart melted in her chest.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, he stuffed the dirty cloth back into his pocket. “You’re welcome.”

Feeling his shoulder lightly tap hers as he skirted around her, Essätha felt the returning wave of puzzlement. She gazed over to the back of Amon’s head, a perplexed frown on her face.

Must not be important.

Shrugging it off, she proceeded to follow him towards the nearest corpse. There was still work to be done.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“This room’s only a little spooky,” the young elf-child announced with only a little too much cheer considering the entire décor was set up on ritualistic sacrifices.

Uneasy, Essie looked around. There were body parts and stains of blood all over the place. A lingering odor of rotting flesh lay beneath a haze of something smoky; like herbs had been burned recently. She snuffled in disgust, trying not to curl her lip towards the bones scattered in the corners of the room like useless artifacts swept aside.

A few tables, almost randomly placed in the room, had items upon them. Trinkets and tools; some obvious in their use, still coated bodily fluids. Dried skin; of what creature she could not be sure, was curing and pulled tight in racks. A shimmering black curtain lay on the opposite side of the room, concealing more.

More she did not want to see, she reasoned.

“Their interior designing wouldn’t be so bad if kept it maintained,” Face defended, nudging aside a deceased rat that had possibly gotten in to one of the opened containers of poison.

Adela visibly shuddered at the commentary. Essätha felt much the same.

She watched, her stomach rolling as Sulhadur made his way over to one of the writing desks. The Dragonborn turned over some of the documents, a curl of smoke blooming from his jaws. She bothered to move closer, joining him in peering over the paper. It was more of what she’d expect from everything else these losers used; more Abyssal text written in some strange code she couldn’t make out.

“Any idea what it says?”

She shook her head helplessly, glancing over towards the cleric. They held up a tome they’d found on another desk. Though she couldn’t make out what it may say at this distance if it were even written in Common, she could see some of the images on it. Horrific sketches; disemboweled corpses with memos of some sort.

“Be careful what you touch in here,” Adela advised, clutching on to the necklace hanging around her neck. “I don’t like the feel of this place.”

“Because we could all use more curses,” Penimra sarcastically grumbled, picking up a scepter lying against a wall. He eyed it for a while before curtly deciding to use the golden staff like a walking stick.

Wearing a scowl of disgust; this entire room looked like a horror freak show’s circus, Essie gazed back in the direction of the curtain.

It fell aside, and she caught a glimpse of Amon’s cloak as it shifted.

Her heartbeat jumped into her throat.

“M’lord?” she called out, dropping the catalogs back on the desk. He was usually not the reckless one of the party to simply run ahead. That seemed more like the work of one of the other lads; or of Rava when the spunky trickster elf decided to sneak around.

The footsteps of some of the others moved to follow her as she pushed aside the curtain.

Holding a key she hadn’t seen with him before, her nobleman looked poised to stick it into the keyhole of some random door.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Essie ran over to grab his arm hastily.

“M’lord Amon, what are you-”

Her gaze snapped up to his.

His eyes were blank. Lifeless.

Working against her, he tried to push the key into the keyhole slot.

Spitting profanities, the sorceress grappled with his arm; shoving her hip into Amon’s and wrestling to stand in front of the doorway.

“Amon! Amon you beautiful idiot what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer her. It was like fighting a rock. His expression was void, and his only intention seemed to be on the door.

A solid, heavy thump echoed on the other side. Something groaned; snarled, viscous and low.

“Don’t you dare open that door,” she threatened, fumbling with his hand. She sprawled out before it, slapping at his hand with a flinch of her own.

“Amon? Essätha?” Sul’s voice echoed.

Something scratched on the other side of the door. Moaned. Thumped heavily against the wood.

From the floor, some of the skeletons began to twitch and write. They began to rise up, their bones clattering loudly. A horrifying pile of flesh began to twist and pulse as well, revealing that it had been stitched together into some sort of flesh golem.

Panicked and wide-eyed, Essie latched on to Amon. The corner of his lip pulled into a frown as he tried to insert the key once more.

“Snap out of it!” she cried out, shaking him. Her eyes rounded to see that a number of bodies had risen from the floor, their burning eyesockets trained on her friends. She inhaled loudly; her lungs feeling as shaky as her hands, and looked up into her nobleman’s vacant expression.

“Listen, I don’t know what that Drow told you to do, but you don’t have to do it,” she blubbered frantically. “We’re in danger, and I know you don’t want to put us in anymore danger. Right?” She shook him rougher. “Right?”

The key clicked into the keyhole. Essätha grasped at it, struggling to yank it out as he attempted to twist it.

Pri’cha was shouting something, and a wall of light lit up the room.

“Stop!” Essie begged. She let go of the key, flinging herself into Amon to push him back. He grunted, his brow knit.

“I need you here! With me. Please- I- I can’t lose you I love you-”

The door creaked behind them, arcane runes flaring to life along the edges of the door. The key shuddered in the keyhole.

Twisting her hands into the fabric and fur of his cloak, Essätha leaned in to plant a firm kiss to his lips. Amon remained cold and unyielding to her efforts at first; his body unforgiving and taut. Then, suddenly, he grunted, and his posture was rigid with shock as she held to him; her teeth grazing his lower lip and her tongue pressed to his lips.

She pulled away. He gaped at her, awed, and reached up to tentatively touch his bruised lip.

Appalled with herself, the sorceress slapped a hand over her own mouth.

The key rattled in the keyhole, turning a fraction.

Muttering something beneath his breath, Amon reached around her to grab at the key.

“Wait-!”

He yanked it out. She sagged against the doorframe with relief, sighing.

“You kissed me!” Amon declared, his voice ragged and throat moving as he swallowed thickly. He was leaning over her, nearly pining her back to the door as something howled furiously behind it.

“I- Sorry-?” she choked, glancing behind him to where the others were mutilating the reanimated dead.

The Briarton Protector groaned heavily, his face red with humiliation.

Essie tapped him on the shoulder, trying to point behind him. Apparently he did not get the message, his eyes moving down to stare at her hand and then back to her face as Sul physically smashed a skeleton to pieces just behind them with his shield.

“You were going to open a portal to who knew what- I couldn’t just- let you-”

“You… told me you loved me?”

“Well-” baffled that he’d even recall that so well, her cheeks grew pink. “Yeah. I mean- if you opened a gateway to Hell I’d still promise to follow you, there and back. That said: I’d rather you not open unknown thresholds into some sort of hell, especially not of your own choice.”

Jaw slack, Amon stared down at her. “I don’t think Hell could exist, so long as I’m with you.”

Her face taking on the molten-core heat of sun itself, Essie pushed her hands against her nobleman’s chest. “That’s really romantic and all-” she wheezed, “but perhaps you should look behind you at what the rest of our friends are dealing with-”

Something hit the door to her back heavily and she yelped, jumping directly into Amon’s arms.

Grunting, he held her to his chest as he swung around to see the remaining flesh golems and skeletons getting beaten back to dust and splattered smears of remains.

He let go of her to tear his sword free of its scabbard.

“You didn’t lead with this?” he inquired, raising his shield in front of her as he took a swipe at the nearest body.

“Was I supposed to?”

“Probably!”

“Would you two lovebirds quit squabblin’ and start smashin’!” Face cut in, hurling a fire bolt at one of the humanoid beings made of leathery skin.

“He means smashing skeletons, not each other!”

“Thanks for the advice, Penimra,” Essie growled with exasperation, curling her hand to summon the ghastly figure of her chill-touch hand to strangle one of the reanimated skeletons.

Groaning himself, Amon turned to press a kiss to her temple, catching the sorceress off guard.

“Talk later?” he muttered a bit out of breath, side-stepping around to defend her from the lumbering nude humanoid creation to slice and hack at it relentlessly.

She blinked a few times, staring at the ominous door with the scratching noises behind her, back to the boney figure before her as her own skeletal chill-touch gripped its face, and ebbed away more of its life-force.

“S-Sure,” she squeaked helplessly.

What was there to say? Hey, sorry I bit you when I kissed you, I just wanted to wake you up from the weird mind control hypnosis thing you were under? The fact she’d said I love you? How she told him she needed him? She was almost sweating bullets already! There was a lot of unboxing right there.

Her face felt warm, and almost dizzy recalling how he’d just leaned in to rest his lips against the side of her head.

Oh fuck she was so screwed.

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze pt.4/25

Previous

Jaskier woke up on Thursday to the sound of his alarm blaring in the back of the rather lovely dream he’d been having. At least it had started off as a lovely dream. He’d been rescued from his flat by a rather dashing, and topless, Geralt Rivia. Not all his dreams involved a burning flat and topless firemen but it was starting to become one of his regular ones. Geralt had just been about to kiss him senseless when the fire engine’s sirens had started going off and Geralt had dropped him in surprise. He’d fallen a good few feet before he’d hit the ground and sat up with a start in his bed.

He cursed and flopped back onto his pillow. It was still dark outside and he’d stayed up far too late last night writing a new song. In his defence, he’d been hit with inspiration at the most stupid hour but what was else was he supposed to do? If he’d tried to go to sleep without figuring out the chords he would have been awake all fucking night.

His alarm was still beeping incessantly at him. “Oh fuck off!” He groaned and knocked the clock off his bedside table and buried his face in his pillow.

He was just about to fall back asleep when his phone started to ring.

“Cock.” He moaned as the screen suddenly lit up the room. “Fucking. Bollocks.”

He peered at the screen and winced at the light burned his eyes. He squinted as he tried to make the letters out. He struggled to see without his glasses or contact lenses and wasn’t sure where his glasses were. They’d been on his face when he’d fallen asleep. “What the?”

It was Tissaia de Vries.

Jaskier was not aware they were on friendly enough terms for early morning phone calls. He pawed at his phone to put it on speaker phone. “Tissaia…”

“Jaskier.”

“The fuck?”

He heard an exasperated sigh from the other end of the line. “You text me last night, Jaskier. I do not want to know why you were awake at two in the morning but you left very strict instructions to call you. It’s the firefighter’s event today. Stregobor is expecting us in the school hall in an hour. Get up.” The phone clicked off.

Jaskier frowned. He searched in the mess of sheets for his glasses before finding them on the floor. Luckily he hadn’t squished them in his sleep and they weren’t too crooked on his nose. He scrambled to unlock his phone, sure enough there was a text to the slightly terrifying art teacher begging her to wake him up in the morning.

“Huh. Go past me.” He groaned and hauled himself out of bed.

He reluctantly went to shower. He probably didn’t have time but for no particular reason he really didn’t want to skimp on the personal hygiene today. He washed his hair in record time and then cursed as he stood in front of his wardrobe. Normally if he wanted to impress someone he’d go for tight skinny jeans and one of his favourite floral shirts but he couldn’t wear his jeans to work and they’d be outside all day so he’d probably freeze in the shirt. He stroke the fabric of his favourite shirt, the one with dandelions on, and then shut the cupboard. He moved to where he kept his jumpers. He had a rather nice turquoise one that really made his eyes pop. If he matched that with a nice pair of black trousers he would lot hot and work appropriate!

He ran a towel through his hair to get the excess water out. He thought about styling it properly but again being outside for most of the day would mess it up anyway so he might as well go for the naturally fluffy look. Maybe Geralt would think he looked adorable and extra cuddly like this. He swapped his thick rimmed glasses for his contact lenses and he was almost ready to go.

He glanced at his phone to check the time.

“Oh shit!” He cursed and pulled on his jumper in a rush. He’d have to skip breakfast today if he wanted to make it to school in time.

He rushed around the kitchen to swig some water before leaving for school, and not a moment too soon. He skidded into the school hall with one minute to spare. The rest of the teachers were already assembled. Tissaia rolled her eyes at him as he entered and he hid behind Triss from the headmaster’s glare.

“Close call.” Triss hissed.

“Yeah yeah. Laugh it up.” Jaskier snapped back.

Stregobor began to run through the schedule of the day, letting them know which classes would be heading out to meet the firefighters at what time, the changes to the lunch rota, safety measures for if a fire alarm was to go off with so many people on site. Jaskier snorted a laugh at that, earning himself another steely glare from the headmaster, but it was worth it. There would be literal firefighters on site and Stregobor was mansplaining fire safety. He heard Triss giggling in front of him, even Istredd smirked as Jaskier caught his eye across the room.

“Oh for god’s sake, Julian. Can’t you stay professional for just five minutes?” Valdo sighed loudly so that everyone could hear. Jaskier glared at his former university friend and he felt his nails dig into his palms, an impressive feat considering how short he kept them as a musician.

“Well excuse me for actually having a sense of humour instead of being a soulless demon from beyond the void.” Jaskier hissed back. It wasn’t his best comeback but he hadn’t had coffee this morning and he was in serious need of a nap.

“Mr Pankratz. That is the sort of behaviour I would expect from your children, not one of my staff.” Stregobor snarled from the front of the room.

“Sorry, sir.” Jaskier grumbled. “Won’t happen again.”

In his head Jaskier was already composing a brilliant scathing song that would highlight all of Valdo’s numerous flaws in vivid detail. It was a pity there weren’t any good rhymes for his name. He could make do with comparing the other teacher to mouldy farts. It wasn’t grammy winning but it made a point. Perhaps his bandmate, Priscilla, could help him find some better rhymes. It had been a while since they’d gotten together in the recording studio and taking down Valdo Marx was something they would both delight in. It had made such great fodder for their second album. He was sure he still had some bitter songs left in him about the traitorous failure of a teacher.

The doors crashed open near the end of Stregobor’s monotonous dribble, and Jaskier almost swooned.

In the doorway were four firefighters, all built like a house and looking absolutely delicious in their uniforms. It was better than Jaskier could have imagined, and dear god had he imagined. It was a pity that they had opted to wear shirts but beggars can’t be choosers. Despite their similar build, the four firefighters were all vastly different in looks. The eldest had silver hair, not too dissimilar to Geralt but a few inches shorter and he was stockier than his younger colleagues. Even from a distance, Jaskier could see the webbing of burns over his hands. The thing that really stood out were his eyes. They were a dark chocolate brown but they had such depths. If Jaskier didn’t know better he would have said the man was an immortal. His eyes were ancient and wise. He would bet that the firefighter had some incredible stories to tell.

The next firefighter had a brilliant shock of red hair on his head that tumbled over his ears in luscious curls. Jaskier had some serious hair envy. He wondered whether it still looked so naturally tousled even after wearing his helmet. He was also sporting a matching bushy ginger beard. The man almost looked like a phoenix which was ironic considering his job.

The last new addition had a very similar bone structure to Mr Phoenix, both had startling green eyes to match. Jaskier supposed they must be related in some way. Instead of ginger, he had a dusty sandy blond hair. It was messy but shorter than the rest of the crew, falling just below his ears. What drew Jaskier’s attention was the jagged scar across his face. It was messy and Jaskier couldn’t but imagine what could have caused such a nasty scar. His heart went out to the fireman.  Jaskier didn’t know the man but he knew that the man did not deserve whatever pain was in his past.

And then there was Geralt.

And to the gods was he beautiful.

Of course, all the firefighter’s were beautiful in their own way. Jaskier could find beauty in everyone as long as their heart was kind, but Geralt just was wow. Jaskier had never had a type before but his type was Geralt now.

Oh Freya was he smitten or what?

He should probably try and rein in his crush slightly. It was really getting out of control. He tore his eyes away from the man and back to the tyrannical monster that was the headmaster.

“Gentleman. Welcome.” Stregobor smiled sweetly at the new arrivals. “Vesemir?”

The eldest firefighter nodded. “That would be me. We spoke on the phone.”

Stregobor’s smiled didn’t reach his eyes, and Jaskier thought he looked downright creepy. He turned his attention back to his latest infatuation.

But Geralt was already looking him with those gorgeous amber eyes. A strand of silver hair had escaped the half up do that he always wore and was falling in front of his face. Jaskier so wanted to tuck the loose strand behind Geralt’s ear, maybe braid his hair so it stayed back properly. He’d look so handsome with a braid and Jaskier could only imagine how soft his hair would feel between his fingers.

Jaskier mentally berating himself for staring and gave Geralt, no, Ciri’s father, a wave. Geralt nodded almost imperceptibly and Jaskier only noticed the tiny smile because his gaze was drawn to Geralt’s lips as if he were a siren singing the sweetest melody.

“As you may know, Mr Rivia’s daughter Ciri” Stregobor was saying. Jaskier snapped himself out of his Geralt fuelled daze to focus back on the headmaster when he heard Ciri’s name. “is in the Buttercups with Mr Pankratz. Julian, you will need to look after Ciri today as the other children will be able to spend time with their parents or guardians.”

Geralt cleared his throat. “Actually, I’ve made arrangements for my friend to look after Ciri today. There’s no need to bother Jaskier with extra duties.”

Jaskier felt a little weak at the way Geralt said his name. It wasn’t anything particularly special but Geralt’s naturally gravelling voice just made him feel things that really weren’t appropriate for the workplace, but he still managed to force his own voice to function like a normal human being who wasn’t dying of thirst. “It’s no bother, Geralt. I assure you.” It came out a little flirtier than he intended but honestly who could blame him.

“Hmm. Thank you, Jaskier.” Geralt’s eyes soften and Jaskier felt like his heart was going to burst out of its chest.

He blushed furiously. “No problem, Geralt.”

“Get a room.” Triss whispered back at him.

“Oh shush!” Jaskier snapped back.

It was going to be a long day for his poor bisexual heart.

_________

Jaskier had rounded up all his kids in the classroom. The parents were having an introductory tea and coffee session with Vesemir and Stregobor. Vesemir was doing a presentation on the rising statistics that his team had been facing over the month or so, and the younger children had been asked to stay with their teachers in case they found some of the images and stories too distressing.

Jaskier’s class had spent the beginning of the morning drawing their best attempts at firefighters. Most of the children had drawn the four men in uniform with their hats and long hoses. Jaskier had plastered a wide smile on his face as he’d praised the drawings, even if a few of them looked as if they’d never seen a firefighter in their life. Ciri had drawn her father, but not in uniform. Ciri’s Geralt was wearing all black and was stood next to some kind of large dog. Geralt holding Ciri’s hand in the picture and Ciri beamed as she showed off her artwork.

“Wonderful Ciri!” Jaskier clapped his hands. “Who’s this?” He pointed to the dog creature.

“Roach!” She giggled.

“Roach? That’s… a good name?” He lied.

“All of Dad’s horses have been called Roach!” Ciri explained. “We always go to the stables at the weekend. Dad even lets me ride her as long as he’s holding onto the reins.”

Jaskier blinked trying to process this new information. The image of Geralt riding a horse was now seared into his brain. Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and hair flying in the wind as he gripped the animal between his thighs.

Fuck…

Jaskier really needed to get laid.

This infatuation with Ciri’s father was getting out of hand.

“Wow Ciri! That’s really cool. You should bring some photographs in for next show and tell. I’m sure the others would love to see Roach.” He replied to the young girl.

The bell rang and Jaskier took a deep breath. It was their time to head outside to the truck. A perfect time to start working on getting over his crush on Geralt Rivia. He was Ciri’s teacher. It wouldn’t be appropriate to start flirting with her father in front of the whole class.

Jaskier clapped his hands with a stamp of his foot to get the class’s attention. “Listen up, Buttercups!” He called, signing the words as he spoke. The class quickly quietened down but he could still feel the excitement buzzing around the room. “We’re going to head outside now! Nobody is to run off with their parents without telling me first. I know you’ll be excited to see them but I just need to know where you are so I know you’re safe, ok?”

“Yes, Mr Jaskier” The class echoed back.

“Excellent. Now the fire engine is all very exciting. Trust me, I can’t wait to have a look! But do we remember the rules?” He looked around expectantly.

A few of the kids nodded.

“Dara?” He asked.

“Don’t touch unless the fireman says we can.” Dara replied dutifully. Jaskier hummed as he focussed, carefully watching the young kids hands. He’d done a course in sign language over summer when he’d been told about Dara being in his class but he wasn’t fluent yet and he still missed words. Dara’s interpreter was a great help but he was still determined to be able to communicate with the young boy on his own by the end of the term. Luckily the internet was full of really useful tutorials to assist him in his quest.

“Yes, good! Anyone else?” Jaskier beamed. “Marilka?”

“We can’t keep asking them to put the sirens on.” She sulked.

“Now that’s an important one! We have to protect those eardrums! Otherwise I might as well forget about my guitar.” Jaskier laughed when all the children protested at that. “Last one!”

The kids frowned as they thought about it. Jaskier took pity on them.

“No running off without telling me.” He reminded them. “Are we ready?” He asked brightly and pretended to cover his ears as the class all screamed back a yes. “Come on then!” He grinned. “What are we waiting for?”

________

Jaskier was enjoying a blissfully childfree hour. All his children had been passed back over to their parents or guardians and were crowding round different parts of the schoolyard. Vesemir was running drills, adjusted for the children, to give them an idea of what training the firefighters went through on a daily basis. Two other firefighters, Lambert and Eskel, were helping the children hold on to the hose as they took turned at pretending to put out a blaze. The children were squealing excitedly as the adults took photographs. Geralt was in charge of the fire engine. He was calm with the kids and seemed to have endless patience for their requests to put the lights and sirens on. Jaskier leaned on the wall as he watched Geralt point to the buttons on the fire engine’s dashboard. Marilka was fidgeting happily next to him, an oversized helmet almost covering her eyes.

Jaskier smiled fondly at the pair of them. He hadn’t interacted much with Geralt, outside of his dreams of course, but he seemed to be a man of very little words, preferring actions to long speeches. He always thanked Jaskier for his weekly update email or letter if he was feeling extravagant, and after the unfortunate babysitter incident Geralt had insisted on buying him a coffee as a thank you. Jaskier had tried to protest but reluctantly sent his favourite coffee order along with his weekly report. The next time Jaskier had been on playground duty, Geralt had walked up to him in the playground and pressed a large caramel latte into his hands. It even had a sprinkle of cinnamon on the top. Jaskier would have blamed his flushed face on the cold weather if Geralt had asked but thankfully the other man didn’t seem to notice.

The only thing Jaskier knew for certain about Geralt, was that he completely adored his daughter. Jaskier mused that it was probably appropriate that Ciri was the only thing they ever really discussed but he wanted to know more. What was Geralt’s coffee order? Did he always wear black when he wasn’t wearing his uniform? Were his eyes really that colour or was he secretly wearing contacts? What was his favourite type of food? Did he have any favourite bands? Would he like to hear Jaskier’s music? Jaskier so desperately hoped Geralt would like that.

He sighed dramatically.

He was being ridiculous. He was pining after a man he didn’t even know. It was so shallow of him to yearn over the man based purely on his looks. Well, not purely. Jaskier was certain the man had a heart of gold. He was raising Ciri after all and the girl was an absolute delight! Jaskier didn’t choose favourites but if he did Ciri would certainly be his favourite student. She just had a way of making everyone she met fall under a charm. She wouldn’t love Geralt if the man was a complete dick.

Maybe Jaskier was putting him on a pedestal? But he didn’t seriously have a chance with the man so was there any harm in that? He just needed to keeping his thirsting under control when Geralt was close by. It couldn’t be that hard? Could it?

Geralt’s amber eyes looked up and caught Jaskier staring. Jaskier chuckled breathlessly and gave him a little wave. Geralt tilted his head with a small smile as if to beckon him. Jaskier narrowed his eyes suspiciously but went over to see what the problem was.

“Geralt?” He asked as he reached the bright red truck. Marilka was still pretending to drive the engine to some emergency or whatever, gripping the steering wheel tight and making her own siren noises.

“Jaskier. I umm. It’s not from the coffee shop and I didn’t have any caramel or cinnamon but… here.” Geralt pulled out a thermos from the door of the fire engine. “Figured it might be a long day for the teachers.”

Jaskier stared dumbly at the flask in Geralt’s hand. “You didn’t need to do that.” He stammered.

“I know.” Geralt shrugged. “It was Ciri’s idea.”

Jaskier smiled brightly. “She’s a good kid, Geralt. You should be proud.”

“Mr Rivia!” Marilka shouted to get the fireman’s attention. “Can girls be firemen too? I wanna be a fireman!”

“Yes.” Geralt pulled out a photograph from the glovebox and pointed to a girl who was laughing and had her arm around Geralt’s shoulder. “This is Renfri. She’s part of our team. She had to stay behind today. She’s probably the best of all of us.”

Jaskier felt his heart ache as Geralt’s eyes softened when he spoke about Renfri. He was such an idiot. The coffee was Ciri’s idea, it had probably been Ciri’s idea the first time too. Geralt probably didn’t even like men, and on top of that his ex was Yennefer Vengerberg. Jaskier was nothing compared to her. Just a silly musical primary school teacher. Renfri looked fucking beautiful too.

But there wasn’t time for his personal crisis. He was a teacher and he had a job. “Even if Renfri wasn’t part of the team, that shouldn’t stop you wanting to follow your dream, little Buttercup.”

Geralt hummed in agreement and then propped the photograph up on the dashboard. Marilka’s father appeared moments later and dragged his daughter from the truck to allow the other kids to have a chance. Geralt nodded a goodbye at the child and then patted the vacated seat.

Jaskier grinned and slid into the seat. “I’m not a child, Geralt.”

“Fire safety is for adults too.” Geralt said seriously but when Jaskier looked at his face he could see the way Geralt’s eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“Oh screw you.” He muttered under his breath.

“You got lunch?” Geralt asked as he pulled out a lunch box. Jaskier almost squealed when he noticed it was a My Little Pony lunchbox. Sure it wasn’t the Applejack that Jaskier knew and loved, he’d never forgive them for changing the design, but Geralt Rivia had an Applejack lunchbox! Jaskier’s day was made!

Jaskier shook his head. “I’ll eat with the kids when we go back inside.”

“I am proud.” Geralt said quietly as he unwrapped his sandwich. Jaskier’s stomach rumbled and he suddenly remembered he’d skipped breakfast. Geralt raised his eyebrows at Jaskier before tossing him the apple from his lunchbox. Jaskier failed to catch it and it landed in his lap.

He smiled brightly at the fireman. “Thanks.”

“She’s so strong.” Geralt continued without missing a beat. “She’s been through more than any child should, more than any person.”

“She’s coping alright.”

“Yeah, but that’s got nothing to do with me.” Geralt sighed. “I’m just gonna fuck it up. You’re good with the kids. Ciri adores you. I wish.” Geralt paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish I knew how you did it.”

Jaskier gaped at the fireman. “Geralt.” He breathed shakily. “You’re amazing with children.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Jaskier protested.

“Hmm. How would you even know?” Geralt spat out bitterly but made no move to evict Jaskier from the truck.

“Call it instinct. That and I was watching you talk to my kids.” Jaskier admitted. “They loved you.”

“It’s just the uniform. Makes people trust you.” Geralt shook his head.

“Geralt Rivia!” Jaskier gasped in outrage. “Enough of your self-loathing. What would you say to Ciri if she started talking that way?”

“Hmm.” Geralt growled.

“Precisely. So, have a little confidence. You didn’t choose to be her father but you’re doing a bloody brilliant job from what I can see.” Jaskier insisted. “We’re trained to spot potential home problems you know, and given the circumstances I think you’re doing just fine.”

They fell into silence whilst Geralt ate his sandwich. Jaskier was afraid to say anymore in case he accidentally revealed just how much he’d been watching Geralt whenever the man visited the school, or how much he treasured every email and look that he received from the man. He knew he had a habit of talking to much, to be honest it was why he was good at teaching. Instead he began to hum under his breath, the song he’d been composing the night before. Geralt didn’t seem to mind so he sang a little louder, experimenting with lyrics. He’d thought of a few but nothing seemed to fit.

“It wasn’t Ciri’s idea.” Geralt eventually said as tucked his lunchbox back into his bag under his seat.

“What?” Jaskier frown at the non-sequitur.

“The coffee.” Geralt nodded and the pushed open his door and jumped out, leaving Jaskier very confused and alone in the truck.

He glanced down at the flask in his hand and opened the lid. He inhaled the smell of coffee with a moan. It was strong coffee, Geralt really knew the way to his heart. He took a tentative sip, expecting it to be bitter without the caramel syrup he so adored but to his surprise it was sweet and creamy just like his usual order. It wasn’t caramel but Geralt must have dumped a shit ton of sugar in the thermos to compensate. Jaskier hummed happily as he took another sip. Oh it was definitely strong yet milky and sweet. The only way to drink coffee in Jaskier’s humble opinion.

He laughed to himself, alone in the fire engine. How was he ever going to get over his infatuation with Ciri’s father if he kept being so thoughtful?

Jaskier was well and truly fucked. ______

Next

[draconivn]

C.05 | Imperfectly Perfect

SUMMARY: Masamune always held to his beliefs to be the ideal leader. His goal in allying with Nobunaga was to learn how to govern his people better, all the sacrifices he would have to obtain just to make sure he could create a world where people wouldn’t go hungry. Then one day, he meets a woman, and she unknowingly turns his world upside down. MASTERPOST: LINK

Masamune had only seen fleeting glances of her ever since that day in the market. It seemed that negotiations were still ongoing, with her entering in and out of the Main Hall with Takashi and Yuuma, and he would've only caught her retreating back on his way to War Council. On occasion, he would also see them talking to Hideyoshi before leaving. It’s without a doubt that the investigation is slowing down the alliance treaty from going through. 

“–Masamune, are you listening to a damn word I said?” Ieyasu frowns at the blue-eyed male.

“Mhm.”

Ieyasu and Mitsuhide had arrived at Masamune's manor to present some of their findings and updates on the current investigation, also seeking to follow up on Masamune’s encounter of the situation that happened several days ago on his way into Azuchi. However, while the two visitors sit in the middle of the room, their attention is directed to the one-eyed warlord staring out blankly on the veranda, watching as Shogetsu runs around trying to catch birds since his master doesn’t seem to be physically - and mentally - available to play. 

What should’ve been a serious conversation had somehow lost its meaning in his lackluster responses.

Ieyasu’s eye nearly twitches, the evidence of annoyance quickly drawing its way up to the rest of his features and into his biting tone, “Then what did I say?”

“Mhm… did you say something Ieyasu?”

Mitsuhide sits next to them, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter as he shuffles the papers to draw out the correct one for them to review. “She must be truly special if she can capture you just like that, Masamune.”

Ieyasu arches his brow at Mitsuhide’s comment. “A woman?”

“One of Kagerou’s people. She seems to be the younger sister of his right-hand man, Kagemori Takashi.  But I assure you, you’ll just end up on her long list of suitors.”

Masamune's eye draws over to Mitsuhide, possibly the only hint of alertness he’s had the entire time the two have been sitting in his room. “Why’s that?”

“My, oh my. You seem curious to hear what we have to say now.” 

“Spit it out, Mitsuhide.” 

A mischievous grin sits on the silver-haired man. “I did happen to see what happened, what with her brother and all a few days ago, and you made quite an interesting suggestion. A kunoichi? She might as well be a spy with the way she had you wrapped around her finger so easily.”

Masamune narrows his gaze at the suggestion, only to make Mitsuhide's grin grow. "Now you're messing with me."

"It doesn't mean she doesn't come with warning signs, Masamune. Underneath that smile, she may have a bigger bite that no woman should ever have, and she definitely doesn't need Kagerou's right-hand man protecting her all the time. I’ve heard rumours of the things they’ve been doing ever since they broke off from the Hojo, and it seems that doesn’t seem to stop women from being included."

Masamune recalls the day he heard the news about the Kagerou clan severing ties from the Hojo. 

It was rumoured that there was illegal activity or an exchange of the sorts before the former informed the Hojo that their alliance had been voided. With that, the province of Akita suddenly shut its doors starting from its borders. While there were reasons for them to go out as they chose, they rarely let anyone in. 

The foliage at their borders also started to flourish, showing signs that the land was starting to prosper and rejuvenate itself, but that was a feat that took several years to manifest. It would’ve been easily home to ninjas and kunoichis if it was honed in for that reason. 

The Hojo had attempted to reach out to the Date in order to wage war against the Kagerou clan, but it was a far stretch and lacked any reason to benefit Oshu in any way other than the Hojo’s usual threat of not harming Masamune’s fief. In the end, Masamune stood up for his people, seeing no reason to continue the negotiation and the Hojo sought the clan of Masamune’s mother, the Mogami, to the north for assistance.

Never did the Hojo so much as dared to try taking the battlefield on their own, instead pushing their new puppets to the battlefield and leaving them to be decimated by their enemies.

The Kagerou clan had reformed itself over the years, its reputation of an impenetrable army that used guerilla tactics as its vanguard before the middle guard would follow. But the many attempts by surrounding territories had always resulted in the approaching army being caught off-guard by these tactics that the middle guard was rarely needed. The vanguard would simply push them out as if they were simply throwing out a thief who had broken into their house. Falconry to discover any holes in the terrain had been next to impossible due to the changing scenery each time, and one by one, the clan had reclaimed more ground as part of its territory. 

Their battle tactics had changed, and while some called them barbaric because the way of the samurai never seemed to be incorporated, very few had acknowledged that skirmishes would unlikely be considered honourable in the way of the samurai, so there was no reason to criticize their way of fighting.

“You know Lord Nobunaga doesn’t wish for things like these to drag out. However, we are stuck in a situation where we have to tread carefully,” Mitsuhide points out. “Kagerou himself had been quite the disappearing act but his subordinates have been carrying out all of his commands due to his lack of voice.”

“Did his entire face and voice get damaged that much?”

“I’m sure if Ieyasu had a look at him, you’d be able to know that answer, but I’m afraid we’ll never know until he decides to finally take off that wolf mask of his.”

Shogetsu crouches low on the ground, trying to paw at the little bird in front of him but it hops out of the way before moving onto the large feline’s head, making Masamune chuckle at the sight. After a moment, Masamune rises to his feet and finally joins them at the table. “I suppose you have something of interest that you’re trying to get out here by catching my interest, don’t you?”

“A tiger may have claws, but it’s nothing more than an enlarged version of a curious cat trying to find the end of the string.” There’s a flit of amusement in Mitsuhide’s pale gold eyes, the tug at the corner of his lips. “In an act of goodwill and a potential show of harmless intentions to form the alliance, Kagerou’s subordinates have been tasked with presenting some of the new techniques they’ve developed in a demonstration tomorrow morning. Your lady in question is expected to be there as the key demonstrator.”

[allisondraste]

Temperance (39/42)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:   Liss wakes up from a nightmare, and Nathaniel is nowhere to be found. 

Notes: This chapter is a bit heavier with the canon-typical violence than most, so please take care of yourselves if that’s a trigger for you. 

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Vigil’s Keep, 9:31 Dragon

Liss’ eyes fluttered open, heart already rattling her rib cage before her vision adjusted to the dim light of the room.  Clanks and clashes of swords and shields rang out nearby. It was familiar, as if she’d read it in a book, saw it in her dreams, yet it was blurry, masked by a drowsy fog.  Where was she? Why was she so afraid?

A dog growled and barked just feet away, and Liss sat up abruptly.  Bear. It was unlike the quiet, gentle hound to make any sound in the middle of the night. So, distressed barks and growls spaced intermittently between bouts of pawing and scratching at the door was a little more than alarming.  Sliding out of bed, stone floor cold against her bare feet, Liss approached the door and knelt down to examine Bear more closely. He panted and whined, looking desperately between Liss and the door.

“Lady Elissa,” cried a frantic voice from the other side, followed by three sharp raps against the wood.  

Liss looked at Bear whose ears flattened down against his head.  She took a deep breath and quietly grabbed a spare fire iron that leaned against the wall next to the door, very aware she was in nothing more than her nightclothes and completely unprotected.  She straightened her posture and opened the door hesitantly.

“Soldier,” Liss said, holding her chin up and responding with her best attempt at authority, “You best have a good reason for waking me.”

“My lady,” the man said, relieved, sweat and blood dripping from his forehead, eyes wide, breath shallow, “Thank the Maker you’re alive. You have to—“

He was interrupted by the sword suddenly puncturing his chest.  Liss gasped and watched the man, one of Highever’s own soldiers, fall to the floor, dead.  She brought her eyes to the assailant who now prepared to attack her, shield and cuirass bearing the Howe family crest.  Bear pushed in front of her, growling and baring his teeth. Anger swelled in Liss’ chest and she lunged at the attacker, swinging the iron as forcefully as she could.  She knocked his sword out of his hand while he was staggered, picked it up, and used it to pierce upward into a convenient gap in his armor.

She had never killed a person before.  She never even thought she would have to.  She was a skilled warrior, trained in combat; however, she was trained in peaceful days.  Her swordsmanship was reserved for dueling rinks and tournaments. Not this. Not taking someone’s life.  She shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the memory of the noise he made as he died, pretended that his blood was not spattered across her face, that it was not seeping into the hem of her gown.  She did not have time. There was more shouting and fighting just down the hall, and she was in charge of the castle.

With nothing more than a blink and a breath, she found herself kneeling on the floor in the room where Fergus’ family resided.  She cradled Oren in her arms, rocking his tiny little body as if he were only sleeping, ignoring the cold touch of his skin and the stiffness in his limbs.  Mama stood in the corner, with her back turned, sobbing and overcome with grief. Liss trembled as she lay her nephew back down on the bloodstained rug, glancing only briefly to the body of her sister-in-law that lay close by.  She could feel herself breaking inside, resolve to survive, to protect the castle dissolving beneath the weight of what she had already lost. Maker, take her instead. Please. Take her instead.

Another blink and she stood at the entrance to the family’s hidden passageway out of the castle, watching her mother hold her father  while she hummed and attempted to apply pressure to a deep wound across his abdomen. Liss’ blood turned to ice and she was frozen, numb, unable to cry and scream like the little girl inside of her wanted to.  Papa was dying. Her protector and idol lay bleeding on the floor and she was powerless to save him. Her world was falling apart before her eyes and there was nothing she could do to pull it back together. It took all of her strength to keep her knees from buckling beneath her.

“Elissa, don’t just stand there,” her mother snapped, voice like a splash of cold water to the face, “Bar the door.”

Liss looked around the room.  “But what about Bear,” she asked. She did not remember being separated from her dog, and now she worried for his safety.

An urgent “Sweetheart” was the only thing her mother said, brows slanting sympathetically.  

“R-right. Of course,” she murmured as she rushed to secure the room, ignoring the pit in her stomach and the ache in her chest as she did so.  As soon as the door was sealed, she returned to kneel beside her parents.

“Papa,” she said, words turning into tears, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what, my dear girl,” he rasped, bringing a shaking hand to her face.

“This is all my fault.  I should have been more alert, moved fas—“

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, voice hoarse, breathing labored. “You did all you could.”

He coughed forcefully, and a trickle of blood rolled down his chin.  Mama wiped it away with a makeshift handkerchief she tore from the bottom of her nightgown. She spoke to him calmly, voice so low that Liss could not hear what she said, but she looked frazzled and defeated, jaw set and hands trembling.  She smiled when Papa looked up at her, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  

“You must escape, Elissa,” Mama said abruptly.

“I won’t leave you behind,” Liss protested, “I can’t.”

Her mother reached forward and grabbed her wristed, squeezing tightly.  “You do not have a choice.”

“But—” “One of us has to leave, find Fergus,” she explained, “You and your brother must go to the King, announce to the entire country what Rendon Howe has done.  Do you hear me?” “Yes Mama,” Liss answered, dejectedly.

Before she could even say a final goodbye to her parents she found herself standing alone, engulfed by complete darkness.  She squinted her eyes and searched for someone, anyone, but no matter how far she ran in any direction, no matter how loudly she shouted, there was nothing but a completely empty void and she was the lone inhabitant.  Lost, terrified, and heartbroken, she fell to her knees and pounded her fists against the ground as her own thoughts echoed around her.  

You let your family die.

It is all your fault.

You should have died instead.

“No. No. No!” She gasped and shouted as she woke up, shocked to find herself clean and warm in a bed.  Still, her whole body shook convulsively until a gentle pressure fell upon her shoulder. She looked up and blinked a few times until the figure standing above her came into focus and became recognizable.  

“Shh.  Easy, love.  You’re all right.” It was the mage — the irreverent, overly forward one who called himself Anders.  He offered her a reassuring smile and continued. “The nightmares are nasty, aren’t they?”

Liss nodded slowly, still not entirely awake, waiting for her body to realize it was safe to relax. She was accustomed to nightmares, but nothing like the one from which she had just awoken.  They had always been brief flashes from the night her family died, as if it were happening to someone else and she watched from a distance. She had never had a nightmare that was so real, so vivid that it was almost exactly like living the horror all over again.

“Other people say they have nightmares about darkspawn, dragons and the like,” Anders explained, “I never have. They’re always about the bloody Circle. What I wouldn’t give for a darkspawn to eat me in my dreams instead.” He laughed, but it was empty and sad.

“Mine wasn’t about darkspawn either,” she answered, mouth turning to cotton as she spoke.

“Here,” said a different voice and Liss turned to see Velanna extending a cup of water to her as if she had read her mind.

“Thank you,” Liss said, taking the cup and steadying it with both of her hands. She brought the rim to her lips and took a long drink. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Around an hour,” Anders answered, “Which was a bit concerning considering that most people who survive wake up immediately.”

Liss took another drink and then sat the cup down. “Did something go wrong?”

“You had an unusual reaction to the ritual,” Velanna interjected, “You had symptoms of blight sickness, which Wardens do not typically experience.”

“Am I going to be okay?”

“You woke up, did you not?”  The elf smiled gently despite the directness of her words.

“I suppose I did,” Liss muttered, and recalled the memory of the other recruits strangling, dying just before her name was called.  She remembered the wave of dread and panic that crashed into her and held her under. It was all muddled after that, vision going black, falling to the ground, Nate’s frantic voice as he caught her.

Liss’ eyes widened. Everything was fuzzy after that, and Nathaniel’s absence worried her.  Their last conversation had not ended well at all, and shame burned under her cheeks as she remembered his confession.  She had dismissed his feelings entirely, feelings that she’d begged him to talk about for years, feelings that she’d prayed for even after she stopped writing to him. She did not regret her anger—she had every right to be angry with him— but walking away from someone she loved and leaving him to think she didn’t, as if it were some sort of justified response to his poor timing, had been uncalled for.  He had looked so hurt and heartbroken, jaw set as he stepped aside and let her head to her potential demise. She realized now that he had only been trying to protect her from something horrific, and she’d stubbornly accused him of not trusting her abilities. Maker, what if she had finally ruined things between them for good?

“Something the matter?” Anders tilted his head and waved his hand in front of her face.  

“Where’s Nathaniel,” she asked, ignoring Anders’ question about her well-being.

“Probably off sulking in a dark corner somewhere,” Anders joked, clearly not sensing the gravity of Liss’ question.  “You know how he is. I mean, at least I think you do. You two seem to have quite the history.”

Velanna rolled her eyes at Anders and sighed before looking at Liss sympathetically.  “Nathaniel was… rather worried when you did not wake immediately. I have never seen him so upset before.”

“Did he seem angry?”  Liss’ voice wavered as she spoke, betraying her most vulnerable emotions to people she barely knew.

“No.  Not at all.” The other woman frowned, clearly confused.  “Just worried.”

“He was more shaken than anything,” Anders added, “As soon as he trusted that you were stable, he left, said he needed to clear his head.”

“I need to talk to him,” Liss said, grunting and sitting up, struggling against the pounding and throbbing in her head.

“No. You need to rest,” Anders scolded carefully, motioning for her to lie back down, “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“I’m fine.” Liss grumbled as she staggered to her feet, a bit dizzy and nauseous, but no worse for the wear otherwise.  She made her way to the door, turned the knob and heading out into the hallway, stopping only to thank Anders and Velanna for taking care of her.

The halls of Vigil’s Keep were not as familiar and committed to memory as Liss had hoped they would be.  She was not even certain where the bloody stairwell was. She intended to head out to the courtyard. When Nate said anything about clearing his head, it almost always meant archery.  She recognized that it had been a long time since she had actually heard him say that, but she assumed he had not changed in that regard, so not knowing the location of the stairs was a significant barrier.  Unfazed, she continued down the long narrow corridor, taking at least a glance at each door, stopping in her tracks as she saw one that was not entirely closed. Remembering just three years prior when Delilah had given her a tour, Liss was confident that it had been Nate’s.

She knew that it could belong to anyone now,  but her curiosity was piqued and she stepped over to stand in front of it, rapping her knuckles against the wooden surface.  There was no answer, and although she knew it was rude, she nudged the door open further and walked inside, looking about the room.  There were no immediate and obvious signs that Nathaniel resided there, well, with the exception of the Howe family portraits stacked in the corner of the room, including the one of his father and hers that he asked Garavel to save.  She could not imagine anyone else finding value in those old things.

Entering further, she noticed several items littering a dresser near the bed.  The items were strewn about in a way that suggested that a pack had been emptied hurriedly in search of something specific.  Approaching the dresser, she noticed a small coin purse that was mostly empty, several lockpicks, and a whetstone. There were also some tools Liss definitely remembered Nathaniel using to craft arrows, and a small, bronze figurine carved into the shape of a bronto.  She picked it up excitedly, causing it to make a faint jingling noise, and she noticed the tiny crank where it’s tail should have been. It was a clever little music box, she thought as she sat it aside, eyes drawn to an empty envelope and crumpled up piece of parchment that lay next to it.

Taking the ball of parchment in her hands, Liss began to carefully straighten it out, making sure she did not tear it accidentally.  Immediately, she recognized the handwriting as Nate’s and the date at the top indicated that it was from just days before, from Denerim.  She moved her eyes down the page and her heart fluttered. The letter was addressed to her, and she no longer felt guilty for reading it. Walking over to the bed, she sat down on the edge, and began to read.  

Dear Liss,

I think we can both agree that this letter is long overdue.  I am not certain where to begin, other than to say that I am sorry for never writing to you .  I was young, stupid, and hurting so much that I could hardly stand it. Losing you was like losing a limb, some large part of myself that I could learn to live without, but only if I pretended I never had it in the first place.  I am not saying it was a good choice, but it was the only way I knew how to cope. It was selfish and inconsiderate, and I hope that you can forgive me.

I have many regrets, the biggest being that I never told you how I felt about you.  There is no time like the present, I suppose. Even if it is too late, I need you to know, or it will drive me crazy for the rest of my life.

The truth is, Liss, I love you.  I have loved you since the day you crawled out from under my bed on my first night in Highever, and I wasn’t even old enough to know what love was.  I just knew that being near you made me feel better, and that there was nowhere else in Thedas I wanted to be. It frustrated me to no end that you could not see all that I saw in you, that you thought you were so average. You could not be average if you tried.

I want you to know that regardless of where we go from here, no matter what happens between us, I won’t think any differently.  You were my best friend, and all of the memories from my childhood I care to keep are with you and your family. I do not know what I would have done without you.

I missed you, Liss, more than words could accurately convey.  I know you are tired of apologies, but I don’t care. I am sorry that I never told you any of this before.  I am sorry that I was so terrified of my father that I let him come between us. I am sorry if I ever once made you think I didn’t care about you.  I am sorry that I waited until the night before I left to dance with you, to kiss you. More than anything else, I am sorry that I wasted nine years of my life pretending that I could be happy without you.

It is good to finally see you again.

Sincerely Love,

Nathaniel

Tears fell from her eyes, crashing onto the paper as she read, dropping more and more quickly as she reached the end.  It was everything she wanted to hear from Nate, jotted down succinctly in one letter, a letter he’s clearly written just after their reunion and carried around for days, waiting to find the right time to give it to her, or to just say it out loud.  Everything had been so chaotic, he probably hadn’t even had the chance. Each time it seemed they would have a moment alone together, one of them was pulled away for a duty of some sort. Then, she asked to join the Wardens, and one misunderstanding and wrong conclusion after another led them to hang on the delicate thread where their relationship currently dangled.

It was all ridiculous, so completely unnecessary.  They both wanted the same thing. They both needed to have the same conversation.  Liss couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, even as tears continued to fall.

Liss was drawn from her amusement by an abrupt shuffle of footsteps in the hall nearby, too light and quick to be any of the guards.  Before she could move to stand, to return the letter to where it had been, the door creaked open further and Nathaniel stood in the doorway, brows furrowed and head tilted in confusion.  Clearly, he had not expected to find her sitting on his bed when he left his door open. He should have known better.

“Liss,” he asked, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. She could hear the ragged edge to his voice, the emotion that dared to burst loose. She wanted to see it, hear it, even if it hurt.  It was time that he let her see past that wall of propriety and stoicism he always attempted to maintain when he was most upset.  

“Hey Nate,” she said, attempting to keep her own composure.  She stood up from the edge of his bed, letter still in her hand.  Holding it up to show him, and smiling through the tears. “I finally got your letter.”

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 68]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Had an early doctor’s appointment today so I’m tired, and the tests done made things feel worse, so idk how long this is going to go, but I want to get at least a bit of my work done. Also brain is not running at full capacity... so if I just disappear it means I forgot I was doing something, laid down, and fell asleep and/or zoned out.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

50234

Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

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She started up a calming purr as she moved to gently kneed his chest. “That sort of hurts,” he noted idly as she dug her little paws into his sternum. She responded by purring more. He moved his arm to scratch behind her ear.

Virgil still was feeling a little bit anxious about the fact that he was out in the open, though he very much did not want to leave the room with the nice fire, and Patton and Logan would be back soon anyway. He should find some way to distract himself, and, well, the best way to distract himself was to investigate his environment, and it had the added benefit of making him feel safer.

 He carefully turned to his side to gently deposit Princess Marisol on the rug. She gave an insulted ‘mew,’ but quickly forgot her ire to sprawl across the ground with her belly to the fireplace. Virgil got to his feet and eyed the room as a whole.

It was fancy, to be sure, but a lot more homely than he’d expect to be in the royal wing. Logan’s bedroom was much more extravagant than this. It was closer to what he’d expect in the home of a financially stable, but not well-off family’s home both in contents and décor.

 There was a nice, but older looking couch that was probably older than Logan, perhaps even older than the king. It was huge though and comfy looking. It had two chairs that weren’t quite matching but were close enough and a table in front of it that had slightly chipped wood. A seemingly random set of pillows was on it, none quite matching the rest, but all sort of earthy browns and greens. There were bookshelves stuffed with books of all different shapes and sizes, and a giant painting of a turkey of all things over the fireplace. The fireplace itself was probably the fanciest thing in the room.

 Most of the fireplace was made out of bricks, though it had a wooden outline a good distance from the fire, and there was an ornate iron grate in front of it with pretty little leaf designs. On top of the mantle were little figurines that grabbed Virgil’s attention. They were small little wooden things carved into animals. Some were painted and some left the wood to be exposed. There were a good number of horses, but there were also things like rabbits and birds. There was even a few creatures Virgil did not recognize himself. They ranged in size from only about as big as his thumb to about as big as his hand.

 He leaned closer to take a better look at them, careful to keep his legs away from the hot iron grate, though he could still feel the intense heat from how close he was. He did not dare touch them. The room may seem like it did not belong in a castle, but it still was in one, and who knows how expensive or important the little figures were.

He settled his chin on the edge of the mantel, getting as close to the decorations as he dared, his eyes locked on a little robin that had been painted orange and grey with a bright yellow beak and eyes that almost looked alive.

 He spent a good minute staring at the wooden creature, before finally drawing back.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” a voice asked, and Virgil just about jumped onto the ceiling, but there weren’t any good footholds, and the ceiling wasn’t very high besides and wouldn’t give much cover. “And that is why I waited until you stepped back,” the same voice said and perhaps it sounded a bit amused, but Virgil was not focusing on that.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, cringing back. Why did he always have to be screwing something up when the king came upon him. Why did the universe hate him?

 “Oh, it’s okay,” the king said. He was still by the door, having only paused outside of the room instead of coming in. “You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

He certainly had been doing something wrong even if he was allowed to get that close to little things that seemed so fragile (which he almost definitely wasn’t) or be in one of the royal rooms without Patton or Logan in sight. Virgil had come here to kill this man even if he didn’t know it. He was an assassin in one of the private royal chambers. If the king had any idea, Virgil would be dead

 He made as though to take a step into the room, but he paused when he saw Virgil take a step back and grimaced. “I’ll, uh, just be going,” he said. “You can stay. You can look at the figurines all you want.”

Virgil looked at the man’s feet and didn’t say anything. He hoped he didn’t take that as an insult.

“Okay,” the king said. “Goodbye.”

He walked off then, likely to his own private room. When the footsteps faded, Virgil bent down to pick up Princess Marisol, who meowed her complaints at being pulled from the fire. He snuck quietly back into Logan’s room.

Logan and Patton found him in the closet 10 minutes later.

  Chapter 38

It was a bad day for Virgil. Now, Virgil had been skittish for the past few days ever since Patton and Logan had left him half asleep on the sitting room rug and came back to him crammed into a closet with Princess Marisol for company. He hadn’t told them what had happened, but obviously something had, and he’d been jumpy ever since. However, today seemed even worse.

The snow outside had only gotten thicker in the last few days since the first snowfall, and it had put Virgil’s anxieties through the roof. Often literally.

This morning, Logan had a meeting with his Dad, and so it was Patton’s job to coax the boy out of his closet. He’d reportedly slept in Logan’s bed but had stalked off to huddle in on himself in the closet as soon as Logan had had to get up.

 Patton entered Logan’s bedroom to a greeting meow from Princess Marisol. She, at least, was still in bed, happily perched on Logan’s pillow. “Oh, sweetie,” Patton said. “You know Logan doesn’t like cat hair on his stuff. She just purred happily, and Patton didn’t bother to push the issue any further. Instead, he turned to the closet.

He tapped twice. “Hey, Virgil, honey. Are you in there?” he asked, though he already was fairly certain of the answer.

There was a pause and then Virgil called back. “Yeah.”

“Can I open the door?”

A longer pause.

“Can I open the door long enough to join you in there?”

[spacegaywritings]

Warming Paws and Melting Walls (3/8) “Making Adjustments”

General

Summary: Emile lets Remy take Virgil to work. Negotiations ensue.

Tags: Emile, Remy, cat virgil, mentions of kidnapping but no actual kidnapping, nervousness, cat treats, boxes, cute shit, snuggles, crushing on your boss, arguing with cats, remy is being salty all the time, swearing, bitch bitch remy, phone calls, mentions of work, ew social, Remy hates people but he is valid, loneliness, pining, subtle lovey lovey.

Virgil and Emile are referred to by they/them pronouns.

i do not think there is any to be applied. If you need me to add anything, please contact me here or on my tumblr (spacegayparty, spacegaywritings)

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr:  1 / 2 / 3 (you are here) / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8.

  My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut // Word count: 4,4k

   “No.. I can’t. You don’t get it, I cannot come for the life of me!”

 Remy gripped the phone in his hand tighter. His knuckles turned white. Not once in his life had he even dreamed of a scenario of this sort. No nightmare could ever reach into the depth of his personal fears like this. He was enraged, somewhat nervous. One of his hands was on the couch scratch the smooth, cool surface.

Reality was much crueller than imagination could ever be. Real life wrote stories that nobody could come up with - history was the perfect piece of evidence. People fighting alligators and smuggling foxes or colour-coding genitals. Human society was so fucked up, people did not even realise it. The most unbelievable shit happened all the time.

 Right now, it was happening to him. Despite this, he tried, he really tried to get this right.

 “Remy, you can’t just tell me you are not coming and then not give me a reason. Is anything wrong? Do you need help?”

 Emile’s voice dropped from a somewhat sharp and scolding sound into the usually concerned sound. That pal was just made to care about others, weren’t they?

Even now they were more supposed to get upset and threaten him, when they were just worried about him. Remy wanted to roll his eyes at the display of pure wholesomeness but he did not have it in him to tease them about this.

 “Okay, listen here. I know that is a shit thing to do. You guys are not prepared to be without me but I got some kinda emergency here, honey. I can’t handle work right now, not with them around. Or not around - Sorry, boss.”

 The man carefully brushed over the kitten in his lap, the shivering little thing meowing pitifully. They were wailing out the feelings Remy gritted into his teeth.

 “Alright, alright- wait. Wait a minute right there. What do you mean? Is anyone holding you against your will? Remy, I am concerned about you.”

 Remy blinked for a moment at how much the whole conversation as much as Emile’s reactions to his words were a fucked over roller coaster that went back and forth and off-track periodically but irregularly so. It was unpredictable and honestly so draining. But understandably, the pal had some worries for their employees, especially Remy since he got into big piles of sick days due to his chronic migraines and physical issues. Still, it was a little absurd to expect him to be kidnapped. He was way to sassy to stay put.

 “Uh, I mean, I would like to go to work but staying at home always sounds nicer than, like, being productive. Sounds like a big nappy time to me, if you are asking me, honey.”

 Right after saying that, Remy realised that he was still sort of talking to his boss and probably should choose his words with at least a BIT more care, as of this moment. Emile was nice but they were not some dumb idiot who would let Remy do whatever with them.

 “Uh, okay. Let me explain, honey. I picked up this cat and I don’t know, like, whose it is and I put up those papers and put ads on PhotoAlbum in several groups (it was a lot of work, sweetie. Would not recommend. Totally busted my weekend! So rude.). I also posted to some page that deals with missing animals of this area and all that kinda shit. I still got, like, a sweet nothing and the cat is really sad and they won’t let me go out. I am - I don’t want to leave the cat alone. You know, Virgil might all up and fuck over my flat and I have nobody to babysit them - catsit them? Whatever.”

 Silence engulfed their phone call for a moment.

Remy was met with nothing but more little mewls which he quickly stilled by brushing further over their soft fur. Were cats supposed to have more dense fur than this? It felt a little thin, especially for winter coming up. Was that a black cat thing? The vet had not mentioned anything about that. Just to give the cat a stable and proper diet at, like, a scheduled time because stability. Which made sense and all but... Ugh, maybe he had to go there again or ask the internet or just get a book.

 Emile cleared his throat after a while.

The doctor really did know how to get some attention. For some unknown reason, it felt like one of the hottest things to Remy how the man could just draw the attention back to him with the most subtle gestures on this fucking planet. They were still considered to be nice and soft and all that kinda fun stuff when they were actually not just sweet and adorable. Emile could be serious and it was almost frightening to know them in control. 

 "Remy, if neither you nor your cat - " 

 "Virgil. Their name is Virgil." 

 "Alright. If you are healthy and so is Virgil, I don't think I can excuse you at work. As much as I would like to, you are our one and only receptionist." 

 Remy's heart fell and he let out an audible sigh. It felt like pushing bricks through his windpipe when he could have breathed regular oxygen. 

Whether his employer was hot or not, he couldn't just treat them like a friend or talk to them like some guy he wanted to hook up with. Okay, he kinda did but he tried to not listen to those thoughts. For once in a lifetime, Remy actually felt somewhat bad talking to Emile. He wanted to tell them off and never like his boss again. His chest was a fierce burning and he wanted them to regret being inconsiderate of the little kitten. 

 Didn’t they know Virgil was an abandoned stray? They were confused and all alone in the middle of winter in a big, heartless city!

 "I appreciate your honesty, still. But Remy, listen. If your cat is new and you are scared of leaving him -" 

 "They. Virgil gets they /hem pronouns because they are a special person and deserved not to be misgendered." 

 "Alright. If you don't want them to be home alone, how about we make work a little more home for hi- them." 

 Remy pressed his lips into a thin line. For a moment, he hummed in deliberation. 

 "What do you mean?" 

 Virgil meowed on his chest and patted the phone in interested. Remy was sure they wanted to play. Emile received a little thud on their end.

 "We keep your door closed and a little darker and hang up signs for people to try and be quiet so they can sleep. Cats sleep almost all day. Much more than we need." 

 The receptionist nodded but realised that Emile could probably not see that. 

 "Sounds okay." 

 Emile let out a hum. 

 "You would really do that? I'll get ready and come over with them." 

 His boss let out a laugh. Remy's queer heart was blooming in delight. Maybe they were not bad. They just had obligations too and these needed to be fulfilled. Other than Remy, Emile was running a business and needed his employees. Remy only had a void on his lap and softness in his heart.

 Of course! Why didn't Remy think about that. Any kind of doctor needed to take an oath, swearing to protect all life. Emile had to prioritise their clients. 

 The cat meowed and Emile giggled again. 

 "Hello Virgil! See you later, I hope" 

 Remy's heart was beating so fast, he nearly swooned loud enough for Emile to hear him. His eyes closed and the sugar-sweet smile on his face refused to leave. Instead, it revelled on his lips for another few moments. 

 "I'll pack up and see you in a few." 

 Emile smiled, unbeknownst to Remy.

 “Can’t wait to see you at work, Remy.”

 *

 Upon arrival, Virgil ducked away and cuddled up to Remy's chest. They were snuggled up under his jacket which they shared with Remy. Such a humble gesture. Whenever the cat heard a sound, they cuddled closer and flinched away from any source of sound other than Remy. 

His footsteps? All okay. 

Someone coughing? Fucking illegal. 

 Remy was more than happy to know he brought about as much food and little things for Virgil to ease up and calm down. It should ease them up. But he couldn't change the smell and make it more comfortable for the cat to relax faster instead of hiding away a lot. 

It was still a wonder to him that Virgil was so trustworthy with him but then again, they all assumed they had been socialised before. But he didn't find a single person claiming to own the little void. Not yet, at least.

 The man walked over to his little "office" only to be stopped from stepping inside. 

A sign, as promised. But that one wasn't for the others to be quiet. It was for him to move into the bigger office. 

 “Reception moved to the main office.”

 .. The main office was much bigger and Remy didn't know how Emile made it a usable working space for him and at the same time an adequate living space for Virgil but he would give it a try. If not, he would need to get some student to catsit his baby for a few hours every day. It wasn't like he desperately needed these bucks, anyway. It was okay. And he was willing and happy to spend it on his Virgil when they needed it more. He himself was glad, already. He had books and nice things but Virgil had nobody and had yet to be picked up by their original home.

 A happy void was a good void and he wanted his void to be their best at all times. At least for the time being.

 Virgil meowed and pawed at Remy. There was hesitation in their movement and after that, they stayed quiet as if to wait for their friend to reply to their request. The man just gently hushed the kitten by stroking over their black fur and humming a bit, quietly so.

The surroundings were so white, so new and it smelled of stingy disinfectant sprays and other things. One of the walls was pastel pink. It was not just cold but also warm but not warm like Remy was warm. Or Virgil, for that matter. He was just glad to wear his sunglasses loyally.

 Virgil curled further into the black jacket.

 “It’s okay, Queen, you will be fine”, he promised.

 He made it to the office. The only time he had been in this place was when he had applied for this position not too long ago. A few years, maybe. This was Emile’s personal office. He was standing in his office and his things were in here. Emile usually did not have too many things around but the pictures and the pastel walls were giving off a warm vibe. Again, it was not the Remy-kind of warmth but it was warm nonetheless and it made him feel funny things he could not quite place.

Sometimes he forgot there was more than his own working space. That, and the fact that Emile had his own practice close to his home. He had probably been here early and had used the time to move furniture and accommodate Remy.

 Literally, what kind of employer would ever do this?

 This office was innocent and playful like going to the kindergarten or being on a swing. It was simple and natural. Natural despite pastels being a little less naturally occurring, especially in a city like the one they were living in. Still, it was a soft colour and had some sort of soothing effect on him.

 Remy carefully nudged the door close behind him and brought Virgil over to the table where he was supposed to sit and work. The desk was larger and the wood looked like oak, perhaps. He was not the type of guy to know much about things. He just liked books and partying. He was a simple soul.

 But his boss? He seemed to mind. Emile must haven taken time to invest in a certain vibe this office would convey. Maybe it was a psychology thing It calmed him down for sure.

 Now, while the walls and pictures screamed Emile, they also hummed Remy’s tone. His desk was filled with little pictures and decorations he had brought to make himself more at home.

That was about the only delight he could relish in, working as an assistant or secretary or however people wanted to call his profession. Whatever, he was just there to welcome clients and give them some treatment plans he had printed according to Emile’s orders. Sometimes he would make appointments with people and negotiate about finances and payment plans. He checked prescriptions and other things, too. He mostly took care of all the social interactions beside the actual treatment Emile gave.

 Yeah, Emile had it all figured out and believe it or not, Remy was actually great at keeping some order together and be somewhat effective with people. He kept track of every person and their schedules. He just knew which days to propose and which days, dates and times were impossible due to things such as soccer practice for the kids or school or religious rituals and family traditions.

 Say whatever you want, Remy was good enough at his job to keep it yet still flip off enough people.

 However, now he needed to settle down and enjoy the new space.

Or, well, absolutely hate how much it smelled of Emile and how it felt warm like them and their sweaters. Having the hots for his boss or uh, higher-up, was definitely the best thing to ever happen to him. Maybe not the best but it was entertaining to say the least. Virgil, on the other hand, was quite..quiet.

 The smol kitten was put onto the desk with care. Remy was handling a precious piece of creature right there after all. He watched them for a moment, the cat just crouching down and looking at him with wide, heterochromatic eyes.

Right into his heart and soul.

 “I love you too, royal stray. Now let me work before I get fired, Queen of salt”, Remy offered and let his bag down.

 He made some space, turned on the computer and gently nudged the cat. Virgil refused to budge and stayed put in front of the keyboard.

 “Kitten, I gotta work. Wanna sit on my lap? You can cuddle with me while I work.”

 Remy looked at them but there was no answer. Were cats the clever ones? Or was this dogs?

Well, whatever, it’s not like Virgil would just suddenly all up and speak actual words. This was not a magical place after all, it was just a boring office.

Or a warm office, actually. Not that it really mattered. (It did, to him.)

 “Caaat, come on, I need to work.”

 Remy put his arms around Virgil to at least type his log-in data into the computer and get his whole shit set up and finally started. After some time, he could start receiving calls and schedule things again. It was bad enough he was so late. He probably had a ton of emails to check about how some people needed to reschedule something or needed an extra appointment, maybe even an emergency one.

 People, right?

 Nothing was ever right with people, it was inconsistent. Apparently, cats were not really as consistent either.

Maybe living things just sucked and Remy did not know how to deal with that.

The black blob of fur was still unmoving and even with the arms awkwardly surrounding them, they would not take any more action than purring.

 Purring. Fucking purring.

 “Virgil, come on. Quit your bullshit and move, you are not supposed to be comfortable in my working space.”

 “Meow”

 “Yeah, meow you too, little bitch.”

 Remy rolled his eyes, looking for his brain so he could interrogate why the fuck he was actually arguing with a cat. Like talking to his brain was actually more sensible than discussing things with a cat and somewhat expecting a rational answer.

 “Okay, Queen, how about that: We can find you a box. You like boxes and I should have a box here - for paper. I swear, I will go totally feral if they threw this away. Anyway, I will just take away the paper and you can get all comfortable in the box, just like at my place.”

 Virgil looked at him, purring and vibrating in interest. The sparkling eyes fixed on the man and Remy nodded. The void seemed to be pleased by this suggestion. Remy was allowed to breathe around the feral beast for a little longer. Great. 

The secretariat let himself drop into his swivel chair and he quickly rolled over to the printer and took the stash of printing paper out for the sake of making space for his kitty friend. Damn yes, he was glad Emile had not thrown this away. He would have trusted them to do such things.

 “Oh Virgil~”, he purred out in a voice akin to songs more than simple words, “come here, kitty kitty.”

 The kitten looked over, tail swishing around for a moment. They looked as if they were ready to get up and maybe even cooperate for a second. What a day of fucking miracles.

 Remy experimentally patted the box and Virgil slowly moved over, purring still and with passion It sounded like the whole room was driven by the engine that was nothing but Virgil’s curious sounds. They were unique and even if Remy was sighing in exasperation at how much time the cat took to INSPECT AN EMPTY BOX OF CARDBOARD, he was smiling.

 Eventually, Virgil was done sniffing and patting the box with paws and nose. They actually stepped into the small space and settled into the space like cat pudding.

Wasn’t there some stupid shit of cats being liquid? He did not remember it quite well but he was sure there was something like that.

 “There you go, little void. I got a treat for you, you are doing so well.”

 He quickly pulled a little snack out of his bag and handed it to his kitten who took it immediately.

Virgil’s nose was twitching for a moment and their little teeth crunched on the small treat as if this was the most festive and fancy meal they would ever receive. Those teeth looked like straight out of some vampire novel.

But was that shit really so tasty for cats?

 ..He kinda wanted to try that but he was human and he would probably hate that shit. He also kinda felt odd about the idea of eating Virgil’s food. He had his own food, seriously. He had such dummy thicc ideas sometimes.

 “You are the best little void”, Remy cooed and softly bonked their heads together.

 Virgil’s insistent purring gradually seeped into the human. Closing his eyes, Remy just stayed in place and brushed his hand through the little kitten’s charcoal fur for a little while longer. It was warm. Warm like hugs were warm and drinking hot chocolate or similar drinks that made him feel fuzzy and sleepy.

Maybe he met the kitty cat in winter, so he would be warmer and not the cat themself.

  “You two sure look comfortable!~”

 Remy ripped himself away from the dark kitten, his head whipping around so quickly, he could hear it giving off the sound of something breaking. Oops, neck. Sorry, not sorry. His reaction was so quick and violent, someone might have thought he was a teenager whose parents walked in on him pleasing himself. As expected (yet somewhat at the same time, not really), the boss themself was standing there and looking at Remy and Virgil cuddling. Emile chuckled but apologised at the scare they had driven into the others.

 The coffee-lover could do no more but raise an eloquent eyebrow instead of stuttering up some weak apology. He was not about that kind of speech anyway. Too much work. Instead, he was the type of person to, well, arch an eyebrow at his boss.

Virgil’s colourful eyes were focused on the intruder. They stared into Emile’s soul. 

 “Virgil is doing okay”, he replied as he pulled up his work email account and scheduling programme to put the things together.

 Oh dear coffee bean, he still needed to check voice mail for all the info he had missed. Emile pressed their lips into a thin line for a moment before letting them pop back out.

 “You know, you can tell me these things first things in the morning instead of not coming and sending me ominous texts. I am more than inclined to helping you when I know that you are in need of certain accommodations.”

 Remy nodded but kept his eyes on the screen. For a brief moment, the man glanced over at his boss and clicked his tongue. He acknowledged them for just long enough to be somewhat polite.

 “Thanks.”

 He shrugged and Virgil meowed…in agreement?

 “Aw your kitten is so cute! Where did you get them again?”

 The doctor came into the office and slowly approached the kitten. Their back arched a bit, making them smaller. Virgil shrunk away from them and their ears changed position.

 Remy gingerly grabbed the little box of void and pulled them closer in. The kitten’s eyes widened and their body tensed, seemingly jumping into a position to pounce onto the intruder or flee within the blink of an eye. If need be, they were prepared.

The man gently eased the kitten with small movements. He brushed the fur down until the void was in a more regular position but their small muscle strands were still obviously tensed up under his displays of affection.

 “They are shy. I found them around the trash in a side alley on my way home”, he explained curtly as he gently consoled the kitten who settled into the box once more.

 Safe box, good box.

Best little void.

 Remy was so proud of them for relaxing and trusting him. The flee stance was away and the cat did not look like they were a small kindergarten kid some big adult suddenly started yelling at for apparently no understandable reason. The kitten was doing well.

 “It’s okay, little Queen, bad Em will bow to your wishes, little darling.”

 Emile straightened their posture and smiled at the two before them, waving.

Could they do anything better than wave? They felt like an outsider watching an intimacy they would never be a part of. Like a child watching the perfect family from the other side of the window.

It was so warm and so far away. The own world was so cool.

 Yet it was another kind of warm. Not smiles and soft words warm, it was more than reassurance and paid trust. There was a whole relationship in this warmth. It had established within just a few days. The time span was so strikingly short, the individual was genuinely shocked to have missed so much of Remy’s life in just a moment.

 Emile pressed their lips together again and sighed.

 “I just wanted to let you know that you can have the office if that helps. I will stack cat food and toys for the kitten, if you want to. I hope that helps you accommodate. But I need you to help me plan the refurbishment of your old office, then. Got any time during lunch break?”

 Remy shrugged.

 “I mean, if I do not have to catch up on anything else, sure. I cannot go out with Virgil. This is too much for them.”

 He glanced at them and gently pulled the kitten-box closer to his stomach.

 “You okay there?”

 Virgil meowed and was rewarded yet another pat on the head. The cat pushed against the gentle hand, eyes squeezed shut. Remy looked at them instead of his boss.

 “Okay, good. Now let me work, you demanding little bitch. I got your business to handle and finances to take care of.”

 The cat slowly blinked at him and he chuckled. Emile cleared his throat.

 “Good then. I’ll leave you to it.”

 “Yeah whatever”, he cooed before he redirected his attention to the screen before him where he started scanning the first emails with plan changes. His right put down the notes of it with little abbreviations. Mrs. Shuster was probably running late again. He really needed to have a talk about this with Emile.

 Talking about this, the pal was still standing there, abandoned eyes on the unattending Remy. He was patting Virgil with one hand and started clicking and reading at incredibly fast speed with his other hand.

Emile did not notice they were staring, standing still as they were captivated by the simple scene before them. When Remy’s cool eyes, shaded by sunglasses, suddenly looked at them, they realised they had yet to leave.

 “Anyway, I gotta get this stuff done. Need anything else?”

 His boss shook their head with a smile softer than butter in the sun.

 “I will leave you two to it. See you later, Remy, Virgil.”

 They nodded their head at each name and looked at the two. The void was basically invisible under the desk and in Remy’s lap.

Just safe and protected as the needed it.

 Emile left, swallowing the odd tightness in their throat.

[myaekingheart]

105. Claws of the Beast

Dedicated to my very difficult 80lb rescue Lab who needs tranquilizers just to get his nails trimmed. --- In all honesty, though, this was an extremely hard chapter to write and bring myself to post. I know the judgment around this sort of stuff can be harsh, and it breaks my heart to know that when other people see my dog's nails, that they're very likely judging my merit as a dog owner. The truth of the matter is that it's not an easy situation to handle by any stretch of the imagination--you want to do what's best, but you don't want to hurt yourself or your fur baby.  Sometimes the most necessary things are also the hardest. All we can manage is our best. Hopefully there are other people out there reading this who understand the struggle and can relate.

               Rei couldn’t concentrate. No amount of white noise or refocusing techniques could help her. All she could think about was Toshio curled up by her feet on the couch, dreaming emphatically. His upper lip curled as he whimpered and growled, his paws twitching to chase after imaginary prey. And that was where the distraction lie: in his paws.

               Try as she might, for some godawful reason Toshio had a thing about people touching his paws. He would immediately grow defensive, baring his teeth with a low growl. Rei wondered what could’ve been done to this poor dog in the past that left him so aggressive about it but she did her best not to anger him unnecessarily. Which would’ve been fine if not for his nails.

               At first, Rei had assumed that perhaps taking him for long walks would alleviate the issue. That perhaps the sidewalk would help file them down. By now, however, an intervention was necessary. His claws had become monstrously long—one of which was so overgrown, it was beginning to curl. How the hell is this even comfortable for you? Rei thought to herself. Sighing, she slammed her book shut and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She knew what would come of another attempt and yet it could not be avoided any further. She needed to trim his nails.

               Rei tried to move as cautiously as possible as she maneuvered around Toshio, desperate not to wake him. So long as he stayed unconscious, she’d have a sliver of a chance. She tiptoed into the kitchen and searched the drawers as quietly as possible for the clippers—the big ones made specifically for animal claws. It took her all of five minutes to find them wedged in the back of the junk drawer—the reorganization of which was likely a necessary project for her next day off.

               She wasn’t sure why she hid them behind her back as she crept nearer—it wasn’t like Toshio could see—but it just felt right. And then, as if functioning on some sort of radar, Toshio’s eyes popped open and and he stared at her with all the suspicion one can expect from a dog. Rei grinned at him innocently though nothing about her body language supported this theory. Toshio watched as she skirted around him, ensuring she kept her backside fully hidden. The moment she got too close, Toshio growled and leapt to his feet before retreating into the bedroom. Rei leaned back to watch him through the doorway as he wiggled his bulky body beneath the bed. Defeated, Rei tossed the nail clippers onto the coffee table and fell back against the couch, draping an arm over her eyes. So much for that.

               The entire rest of her afternoon was spent trying—and failing—to stop thinking about it. She flipped through a dusty dog manual on the bookshelf, it’s spine falling apart from years of use, in hopes of finding any guidance. After all, there had to be some way to work around this. She was certain that there were plenty of other dog owners who faced the same exact struggle that she was. How did they do it? What were their secrets? She only wished she knew.

               When Kakashi returned home the following evening, sore and sleepy, the house was a mess. Books were scattered everywhere. Sheets of paper with bizarre diagrams scattered the coffee table and couch. Rei was nowhere to be found. Furrowing his brows, Kakashi stepped over a stack of texts and set his equipment on the kitchen table. “Rei…?” he asked into the void.

               From the corner of the room, Rei popped her head out from behind yet another stack of books. “Kakashi!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and lilted like a child’s.

               “What the hell is all of this?” he asked, chuckling slightly under his breath. It was then that Rei’s face turned serious.

               “Kakashi” she repeated, voice now stern. “We have a problem.”

               “Oh…?” Kakashi asked. He skirted around the clutter, clearing a space for himself to sit on the couch. “Is the problem that we’ve been organizing our books the wrong way the entire time?”

               “Oh god, no” Rei swatted at the air with a disgusted facial expression. Kakashi couldn’t help but laugh—he knew that if nothing else, his fiancée was a master of literary organization. Her offense at the insinuation was admittedly adorable. Smoothing her bangs back, she huffed and added, “It’s Toshio.”

               Kakashi’s heart leapt into his throat as he suddenly began searching the room for the dog. He didn’t want to think about what kind of problem might have arisen. He couldn’t handle the thought of a sick dog. “W-what’s the matter?” he asked.

               Rei rose to her feet, carefully stepping over the mess she had made. “Toshio’s nails are getting dangerously long. They desperately need to get cut but he’s making things difficult” she explained. “I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

               A slight smile teased Kakashi’s lips. “Are you not strong enough to handle him on your own?” he asked, and in his voice Rei could tell he was lightly mocking her.

               Frowning, Rei leapt over the arm of the couch and whacked him on the shoulder. “That’s not funny!” she shouted. “Do you think I like knowing that I can’t handle my own dog? What the hell kind of fucked up shit is that?”

               Taken aback, Kakashi murmured a soft sorry as he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes skated over to the bedroom door creaked ajar where he finally found Toshio’s fluffy butt sticking out from beneath the bed. “Really, though, how hard could this be?” he asked. His apparent confidence was nauseating.

               “You think it’s so easy?” Rei asked. She leaned back to retrieve the nail clippers from the pile of mess on the end table, slapping them into Kakashi’s palm. “You try, then. I’ll wait.”

               Kakashi blinked as he looked down at them, considering the situation. After a long moment, he stood up. “Alright then” he said. He spun the clippers by the handle around his finger as he strolled into the bedroom, peeking under the bed to get Toshio’s attention. The minute they locked eyes, Toshio snarled and snapped his jaws. Kakashi quickly removed himself from the situation, sneaking back into the living room with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, okay, we might need some help.”

               A sickening smile touched Rei’s lips as she leaned back against the couch with arms crossed. “That’s what I thought.”

               Toshio remained distant for the next few days, hiding under the bed or sleeping on the bathroom floor. Rei’s heart broke seeing him avoid her like this. They were supposed to be companions. And didn’t he know she was only trying to do what was best for him? She felt like such a terrible dog owner. For a moment, she considered just trashing the whole idea so that Toshio might love her again but she knew avoiding the situation wasn’t going to do him any favors. Sometimes the most necessary things were also the hardest, she supposed.

               When he finally began easing his way into being sociable again, Rei tried to act as nonchalantly as humanly possible. She encouraged him to lay by her feet or join her on the couch. Sometimes he obliged and sometimes he didn’t. When he did, however, she took every opportunity to butter him up so he wouldn’t suspect a thing. She just had to wait for the perfect moment to pounce.

               It wasn’t until one evening when he fell fast asleep between—or, technically, across—Kakashi and Rei on the couch that they knew this was their moment. They exchanged knowing glances before Rei slyly reached for the nail clippers on the end table. She steadied herself as cautiously as she could manage as Kakashi gently restrained the dog. Biting her lower lip, Rei reached out and took one of Toshio’s paws in her hand. The minute she touched him, however, his eyes flew open and his upper lip curled.

               “Rei, be careful” Kakashi murmured. He kept his eyes constantly locked on Toshio, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

               “I’ll be fine” she whispered back, shooting him a sharp glare. Then, meeting Toshio’s eyes, she cooed, “It’s okay, buddy, I’m not going to hurt you.”

               Toshio uttered a low, guttural growl as she leaned closer, a warning. Rei didn’t care, though. She doubted he would hurt her. She just needed to dive right in, no hesitation, like ripping off a bandage. She flexed the clippers and Toshio licked his snarled lips.

               “Rei, just stop” Kakashi insisted. “Don’t let him bite you.”

               “Shut up, Kakashi” she replied through gritted teeth. “He can sense your anxiety.” Just as she was about to clamp down on his worst nail, however, Toshio snapped his jaws and jerked his paw away. Kakashi leapt back, letting him escape. Toshio shook the sleep off his body before disappearing into the bathroom. Defeated, Rei tossed the clippers across the room with a groan and fell back on the couch, pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “This is pointless.”

               “I hate to suggest this” Kakashi began, “but maybe we’d be better off muzzling him.”

               “You think so?” Rei whined. Kakashi frowned as he nodded. He was never a fan of muzzles—he was never a fan of anything restrictive for dogs, really—but sometimes they were necessary and this was certainly one of those cases. He could not afford to watch Rei get hurt in her attempts. “I just feel so bad” she sighed after a few moments. “I don’t want to ruin his trust in me but I feel like if we keep this up, he’s going to hate me.”

               “He’s not going to hate you” Kakashi assured her.

               “Yes, he will” Rei countered. “I just wish I knew why he was so aggressive about this in the first place. Do you think his previous owner cut too close to the quick?”

               Kakashi pursed his lips. “Well, you know what they said about the way he used to be treated” he replied. Rei didn’t want to think about it. Toshio’s past was a heartbreaking reminder that he was still a flawed and fearful creature. That he had likely seen and experienced things that no dog should ever face. It only made sense that he was guarded, even if he and Rei had built a repertoire among one another.

               Sighing, Rei replied, “Well, I guess we have no other choice. We’ll have to try the muzzle.”

               Kakashi took it upon himself to purchase the muzzle on his own. It didn’t feel right for Rei to come with him, seeing as Toshio would surely follow suit and that was essentially the same as accompanying your killer to the armory to pick which bullet he’d shoot through your skull.

               Toshio knew something was up the minute Kakashi returned home, as if he could smell trouble from inside the shopping bag. Rei scratched behind his ear in an effort to keep him calm, asking Kakashi, “Do you really think this will work?”

               “Well, there’s only one way to find out” he replied. After Toshio had calmed down from Kakashi’s return, they made their attempt. The minute he saw the muzzle, he tried to make a run for it but Rei restrained him before he could get very far. Or at least tried to. The issue with Toshio was that he was more like a bear than a dog when it came to size and strength. Physical strength was certainly not Rei’s strong suit, either, which made restraining him doubly hard. Kakashi tried to be quick and efficient but it was no use. Toshio was too fast and too strong for the both of them. He writhed underneath Rei’s body, snarling and snapping, before shaking her off him completely and shoving his fat body under the bed.

               Rei huffed her bangs out of her face and faceplanted against the living room floor. “Oh my god” she whined, voice muffled. “We’re never going to get his nails cut.”

               Kakashi glanced back at Toshio over his shoulder before tossing the muzzle over his shoulder. “I guess that was a waste of twenty bucks” he sighed. “Maybe we should ask the Inuzukas. Hana’s a vet-nin. I’m sure she’d know what to do.”

               “Yeah” Rei sighed. She turned to rest the side of her face against the cold wood floors. In her eyes, Kakashi saw defeat. “Yeah, I’m sure she would.”

               A few days passed before Rei and Kakashi made the decision to approach Hana. Toshio accompanied them, albeit reluctantly, as if he knew deep down that they were up to something. Hana propped the door to the Inuzuka Veterinary Clinic open as she caught them walking up the pathway, ushering them inside with a warm and welcoming smile. Rei nodded once, polite but anxious, as she slipped inside. Toshio slowed his pace the nearer he came to the clinic but did not run off.

               “So, what seems to be the trouble?” Hana asked. She knelt down to let Toshio sniff her hand, scratching behind his ear once they were acquainted. Fortunately, he did not resist her. He must have known in some sense that she, as well as all the other Inuzuka’s, were dog people and therefore trustworthy. He must have smelled their camaraderie in their blood.

               Rei hesitantly sat herself in one of the chairs in the waiting room as she explained the situation. She kept her voice low, fearful that Toshio would quickly turn anxious should he hear her mention the nail clippers. Hana listened intently, nodding along in understanding.

               “Well, normally what we like to do is get the dog comfortable with the idea of the clippers” she explained. “Our goal is to ease them into trusting us by rewarding them with treats whenever we break the equipment out so that they learn these are not instruments of harm.” Rei’s face paled for a moment at the thought. She was more than willing to work through this, of course, no matter how long it took, but things were already borderline unbearable. She wasn’t sure how much more time she could spend on the slower methods before one of Toshio’s nails just broke off. Then he would surely be in even more than he might already be. Sensing her anxiety, Kakashi rested a reassuring hand at the base of Rei’s neck. Hana pursed her lips as she surveyed Toshio’s paws herself. “But in a case such as this” she continued, “our best course of action would be to utilize more drastic measures.”

               “Drastic measures?” Rei repeated. She didn’t like the sound of that. What did she even mean by drastic measures? Rei felt her chest tighten with the somber and sudden fear that even the vet-nin thought she was a terrible dog owner.

               Hana nodded as she rose to her feet. “Seeing as Toshio’s nails are in what I would categorize as severe condition, and he is noncompliant with alternative methods, our best bet at this point would be sedation.”

               Rei’s heart dropped. “E-excuse you!” she shouted, leaping to her feet. “You don’t need to put him down just because he’s—”

               “Rei, calm down” Kakashi murmured in her ear. “She said sedation, not euthanization.”

               “Oh, yes!” Hana replied, raising her hands in surrender. Her face frowned in severe apology. “We would only give him a mild tranquilizer intended to knock him unconscious for about forty five minutes so we can take care of business. While uncommon, it’s a very standard procedure and won’t cause any long-term harm to the dog.”

               Frowning, Rei gripped Kakashi’s hand and turned her gaze to Toshio. He had since made himself comfortable on the waiting room floor, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he panted calmly. “Kakashi, we need to talk” she whispered.

               Kakashi excused the two of them before Rei pulled him outside, panicked. “Are you okay?” he asked.

               “Kakashi, I don’t know if I can do this” she replied. She gripped her hair and began pacing up and down the walkway, thinking. “I feel so terrible. I don’t think I can put Toshio through this.”

               “Well, what other choice do we have?” Kakashi asked. “We can’t avoid this any longer, Rei. Clearly we’re not strong enough to do this on our own and I really don’t want to put Toshio at risk if we let this go.”

               Rei chewed her lower lip as she considered Kakashi’s words. Truthfully, she felt the same way. If this was going to cause him problems, or further discomfort, it needed to be taken care of. The thought of tranquilizing him, though? It was just too much. If only there was a better way. But Kakashi reminded her that they had exhausted all other options. This was truly their last resort. Gripping his hand tightly, she followed him back inside the clinic and they agreed to the procedure.

               The sedative, a tiny pill, was given inside a wad of bread smothered with peanut butter. In a matter of minutes, Toshio began to grow drowsy and sway when he walked. Rei watched with bated breath from the corner of the exam room—Hana suggested she stay outside but it didn’t feel right. Rei deserved to be there. She needed to be by Toshio’s side if something went awry. Little did she know that things would, in fact, go haywire.

               The moment Hana reached for the nail clippers, Toshio’s tired eyes locked on her and his upper lip curled. Rei’s heart leapt into her throat as she idled, unsure of what she should do, if anything. Hana seemed completely unaffected, however. She started with the back paws, which Toshio allowed her to trim but not without complaint. When she reached the front, however, Toshio snarled, deep but sleepy. He was completely drunk and yet somehow he still had enough strength to resist. When he tried to get up, Hana encouraged Rei to stand beside him and hold him still.

               “I thought you said this would knock him out!” Rei exclaimed, terrified.

               “I thought it would” Hana murmured. She carefully took Toshio’s left paw in her hand, snipped quickly and cautiously as he wiggled under Rei’s grasp and barked out in protest. His voice sounded so low and slurred, like a completely different dog. “Based on his weight, I gave him a pill and a half. That usually knocks Rottweilers out, but apparently not him.”

               “Oh, perfect” Rei complained under her breath. She tried to keep Toshio steady as Hana moved to the other paw, assuring the dog that they were almost done and that he was a good boy. Toshio shook his head and attempted to back up against the wall but it was no use. When he turned toward Rei, she expected him to growl or snap at her but instead, he met her gaze with tired eyes searching for comfort. Rei’s heart broke.

               Once finished, Rei trudged out of the exam room frazzled and worn. Kakashi leapt to his feet immediately. “How did it go?”

               “Well, it’s been taken care of” Rei sighed, dropping into one of the vinyl chairs. “Just know that we are never doing this again.”

               Hana emerged shortly after, looking to them calmly. “Toshio should be good to go home in a few minutes. In the meantime, I’m going to give you a prescription for the sedative we used so that you’ll have it on hand for the next time his nails need to be trimmed, or if he’s ever in an any other situation where he shows signs of aggression or anxiety” she explained. She scribbled the prescription onto a piece of paper before handing it over. “They should be able to fill this at the pharmacy in the hospital” she instructed. Rei nodded and thanked her quietly as she took the paper and tucked it into her back pouch. She met Kakashi’s eyes then as he tilted his head toward the exam room, silently agreeing that it was time to bring their boy home.

               The effects of the sedative, Hana said, would wear off completely in a few hours. As Rei and Kakashi tried to bring Toshio to his feet, however, it was clear he would not be able to walk home on his own. His legs buckled beneath his bulky body so that he could only manage a few swaying steps before collapsing. All of his aggression had melted away and was replaced with a sense of dopey delight as he stared back at them starry-eyed. He turned his head with slow, sleepy movements, his spotted tongue lopping from one side to the other. With their apartment all the way across town, there was really only one option left for bringing him home. Kakashi braced as himself as he knelt down and lifted him up in his arms, a groan breaking past his lips from the sheer weight.

               “Alright, let’s get him home before my arms fall off” he choked. Rei nodded once and together they raced home as quickly as they could manage with an 80-pound beast in tow.

               As night fell across Konoha, Rei snuggled up next to Kakashi on the couch. Toshio’s sedatives had finally worn off but the excitement of the day left him exhausted. She kept her eyes locked on his chest, rising and falling with his mellow breaths, as he slept in the middle of the living room floor. “Do you think we made the right decision?” Rei asked quietly.

               “Hmm?” Kakashi hummed, looking up from his book. It took his brain a moment to register what she had said. “I don’t think we really had any other options” he then replied.

               Rei gave a single nod before leaning her head on Kakashi’s shoulder. “I just hate seeing him suffer. I hate that we had to resort to this” she replied.

               Kakashi set his book down on the coffee table and turned to cup Rei’s face in his hands. “Rei, look at me” he murmured. “I know how difficult this was, but we did the right thing. We did what was best for Toshio. Sometimes the right decision isn’t always the easiest one, but we made that decision anyway and I’m proud of us for it.”

               “You really think so?” Rei asked.

               “I know so” Kakashi replied. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, letting her settle against his chest. “After all” he continued, “we’ve made a commitment to take care of him. We wouldn’t be doing our job right if we had ignored this.”

               “Yeah…” Rei murmured. Her eyes were growing heavy as the steady beat of Kakashi’s heart lulled her to sleep. As she closed her eyes, a soft giggle escaped her lips and she then whispered, “You know, in a way I guess this is good practice.”

               “Good practice?” Kakashi asked. He tilted his head so as to look down at her. “Good practice for what?”

               Before he could get a reply, however, Rei was already fast asleep. Or at least that’s what she wanted him to believe. She snuggled up against him and sighed but Kakashi couldn’t even be bothered. They had had a long day, she deserved her rest. He brushed the bangs out of her face and kissed her on the forehead before turning back to his book. If he really wanted answers, it could wait until morning. For now, they all deserved peace and quiet.

[captainmeowvelwrites]

You Times Two (Ch.3)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 3354 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Marinette considered growing a magnificent beard and running away to join the circus. She reflected on the ramifications of Chat Blanc, which honestly, the author is still too upset about to make light of right now. And just to top it all off, Clumsy Girl smacked Golden Boy in the face with a door, then somehow called him Chadrien. Has our favourite gal’s cover been blown? Has her kitty quite literally had some sense smacked into him? And purrhaps most importantly, is his lil’ button nose okay? You can probably hazard a guess, but read on, I say!

---

Chapter Three

Adrien left Marinette in the locker room and stepped out into the morning sun, its warmth bathing his skin.

But the heat of his cheeks had a different source.

As he twisted his ring – something he often did when his brain was abuzz – he glimpsed his reflection in a tinted window, a reminder that his hair was still a bit of mess. He reached for his bangs, his thoughts drifting a minute into the past.

There'd been a light in Marinette's eyes, and a sense of ease about her, when he'd ruffled his hair.

Of course, that had only lasted a second.

And then, like Ladybug, she'd called him Chadrien.

That had to be a coincidence.

Ladybug had fumbled over her words last night, as Marinette often did.

Marinette's eyes were like the sky after a storm, a stunning shade of bluebell, just like Ladybug's. How had he not noticed that before?

His hand fell from his hair to his side, as his lips drew into a resolute line.

No, his suspicions were impossible.

Marinette was Multimouse.

She couldn't be Ladybug too.

His eyes sunk to his shoes as he continued to think of his lady. The reality was, she wasn't his lady. She never had been.

There was a thickness in his throat and a void in his eyes as he wondered—again—if things might've been different, if not for that boy. She'd said she couldn't even imagine a world without him, whoever he was.

And that hurt.

A lot.

To an extent, it had depleted his hope of something ever blooming between them. But more than that, it always made him wonder if she could say the same for him. Could she imagine a world without Chat Noir?

Truly, Adrien didn't know the answer.

His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms.

This shouldn't matter anymore.

He was dating Kagami.

Well, sort of.

The press had snapped them eating ice cream together. And yes, they'd almost kissed—but they hadn't made things official, despite what the media were saying.

Regardless, everyone thought they were official—including Kagami.

He hated this.

Not because Kagami was basically his girlfriend, but because he'd never imagined this unravelling quite as it had.

He'd imagined a rose-covered rooftop and a candlelit dinner. He'd imagined a passionate declaration and actually asking the girl to be his girlfriend. He'd imagined a night ending in a flurry of hugs and kisses and laughter.

And he'd imagined it all with Ladybug.

He buried his face in his palms, where the dent of his nails still showed.

This wasn't fair on Kagami.

But Ladybug didn't love him back. She never would.

And despite the way he felt about her, to say he didn't care for Kagami was a lie.

Kagami had always been upfront with him. Maybe that's why he'd been so drawn to her. She was assertive, strong-minded and knew exactly what she wanted.

A lot like Ladybug, a part of him whispered.

A very annoying part.

With a huff, Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose. It was still tender from its encounter with a door and for some reason, that made him smile.

Plagg peeked up at him from beneath his white overshirt. "So why'd you have to come out here to wait for your friend?"

Adrien tensed. "Plagg," he whispered, his eyes snapping around the school courtyard, finding it empty. "Hide before someone sees you." He tugged the edge of his white shirt over his kwami's head.

Of course, Plagg squeezed his way back out despite his chosen's protests. "People are blind," he whined. "Not to mention I blend in with your shirt."

Adrien heaved a sigh, yielding to Plagg's question. "I just have a lot on my mind. That's all."

"Like what, hmm?"

"Since when do you care about something that isn't cheese-related?" He was half-joking.

"Oh please," Plagg barked. "I just wanna know what's got you in such a tizz."

Adrien glowered at that and glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting Marinette to barge out of the locker room right that second. When she didn't, he looked down at Plagg. "Marinette: that's who Ladybug reminded me of last night."

Plagg groaned in time with an eye roll. "So what? Marinette's always talking nonsense. Ladybug did for one measly night!"

"But, Plagg," Adrien said, desperation seeping through his words, "this isn't the first time I've suspected she was Ladybug!"

"Have you forgotten about Kwamibuster?" Plagg grimaced. "She was Multimouse. We even saw her and Ladybug side-by-side."

A thought flashed in Adrien's eyes. "Miracle Queen," he announced, and Plagg tipped his head. "Why didn't she show up to collect the Mouse Miraculous?" He cupped his chin, glancing toward the morning sky. "Every other Miraculous Wielder did."

"She isn't a Miraculous Wielder anymore," Plagg said simply. "Ladybug told her as much after she revealed her identity to you. Or maybe she just didn't get stung by those nasty bugs."

His hopes were crushed as quickly as they'd come, and he realised how much he'd been hoping to begin with. Did he want Marinette to be Ladybug? Was that why he kept searching for reasons to suspect her?

He pursed his lips, wrestling with these ruminations and the risks that came with them. His suspicions were circumstantial, if that. And if he ever learned Ladybug's identity, it should be on her terms.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder…

"I… guess you're right, Plagg." The disappointment in his voice was thicker than glue.

"Of course, I'm right!"

Adrien tapped his lips, eyes drifting skyward once more. "And Ladybug did say we don't know each other out of costume." Though she'd also said she wouldn't tell him if they did. "You know who Ladybug is, right? From when we faced Mr Damo—The Dark Owl."

"If you're suggesting what I think you are—"

Adrien shook his head. "You know I'd never betray Ladybug's trust like that."

"Good," Plagg said, throwing his whiskers in the air, "because I couldn't tell you who she is even if I wanted to. Tikki would kill me." His paw emerged from beneath Adrien's white shirt, and he placed a thoughtful claw to his lips. "As for Ladybug's stuttering last night, maybe your identity just… took her off guard? For all you know, she was starstruck! Like that time you took me to the Aligre Market." His green eyes glided upward, glazing over, and he let out a dreamy sigh. "So… much… artisan cheese…"

Adrien gaped—and it took him at least five seconds to form words. "You… You think Ladybug could be a fan of mine?"

"It makes a lot more sense than your stupid theory."

Adrien had never even considered that possibility, but Plagg was right. It did make sense. Maybe that's why she'd freaked out.

"But," Plagg continued, "how should I know if she's a fan of yours? Just ask her at patrol tonight."

Adrien's chest tightened as he pictured that very scenario. "But what if she is a fan and freaks out again like last time?" Worry weighed on his lips. "Or what if she's not and thinks I'm arrogant and—"

The thump of a hand against wood made him jump, and Plagg vanished beneath his shirt.

"Sorry I took so long!"

He turned to find Marinette, her hair a little more frazzled. Her eyes snapped around the courtyard, not meeting his.

Oh no! Had she heard him talking?

Adrien threaded his fingers, his thumbs circling each other. "No – No problem." He swallowed and forced a small smile. "I was just – uhh…"

"Don't worry," Marinette chimed, finally looking his way. Her eyes creased as she smiled. "I stalk—uhh, talk to myself too. All the time. I mean – uhh – some of the time." She cleared her throat. "So I – uhh – guess we're both nosy—I mean crazy."

"Oh, I…" Adrien broke eye contact, glancing between her and the ground. "What did you hear?"

"N-Nothing!" Marinette shrieked, waving her hands back and forth. "Just – uh – mumbling and stuff." She looked away, her fingers drumming against the straps of her backpack. "So, umm…" She nodded towards the nearby stairs. "Class, then?"

Adrien forced a chuckle, only for his voice to crack. And now they were both blushing. "Ri-Right." He squeezed the strap of his shoulder bag with one hand and extended his other toward the stairs. "After you, then."

Marinette took a single step forward and, true to form, somehow tripped over air.

Adrien's hands were on her shoulders in an instant, barring her greeting with the ground. "Are you okay?"

"No—I mean yes!" She peeled his hands from her shoulders and practically jumped back to her full height. "I'm just – uhh – clumsy. Ha ha. I am so clumsy." She flashed an oddly wide grin, her hands flying this way and that as she spoke. "Like, the Queen of Clumsy. Any physical activity whatsoever and I am not your girl. Not by a mile. Heck, I couldn't even run a mile. Because, y'know – I'm so unfit. And clumsy. Did I mention I'm clumsy?" The second she finished her spiel, her eyes shot to her ballerina flats.

Adrien managed a laugh, despite how his brows squished together. "Uhh… Yes, you did mention that." His brows settled, but he continued to smile. "And Marinette, you're not as clumsy as you think you are."

Marinette wiped her palms across her pants. "I'm… I'm not?" she squeaked, peering up at him.

"Well, I've experienced your dancing first-hand, remember?" Adrien slid an arm around her shoulders, showing a supportive smile. "And let's not forget your fencing and ice-skating skills. Try not to sell yourself short, okay?" His arm slipped from her shoulders to rub the nape of his neck, and he laughed lightly. "But maybe do try to be more careful sometimes."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "Uh – Um – Yeah. I'll… try to be more careful."

With that, Adrien extended his hand toward the stairs. "Shall we?"

---

She'd eavesdropped on Adrien and Plagg – but not on purpose!

In fact, she'd been about to shove those pesky doors aside when her name – or rather, Ladybug's name – had given her pause.

She'd only caught bits and pieces, but by the sound of it, Adrien suspected she was Ladybug. And in that moment, Chat Blanc's petrifying face had flashed through her mind. That was all the incentive she'd needed to throw him off her tracks, by deliberately tripping over air and pointing out her lack of physical prowess.

He couldn't know she was Ladybug.

Not yet.

Perhaps not ever.

Marinette quite literally shook that thought to the outskirts of her mind. Now, around Adrien, was not the time and place for it.

Instead, she panted excessively as they scaled the stairs, hoping he'd bought her 'I'm so clumsy and unfit' charade—if she could even call it that. She wasn't unfit, but she was a royal clutz, even if Adrien didn't think so.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Marinette's mind wandered elsewhere. She wasn't late thanks to an akuma, so her secret identity wasn't at risk. Did she even need to make up an excuse?

She could just say she'd slept in.

In fact, that's exactly what she'd done.

On purpose.

To avoid the very boy she was arriving late with.

A groan slipped through her lips—and of course, Adrien heard it.

"Everything okay, Marinette? You sure you're not hurt?"

"Err – Yeah! I'm – I'm fine." Her eyes flew this way and that, as she considered an excuse. "I was just… uh…"

Adrien's eyes were fixed on her and once more, she took in his mussed hair… so reminiscent of Chat Noir.

"I was just wondering what to say to Miss Bustier?"

Adrien smiled, his bangs bobbing with each step he took. "You mean, how do we explain our lateness?" He adjusted the strap of his bag, his ring in full view. "We don't. In my experience, Miss Bustier is fine as long as you apologise and don't disrupt the lesson beyond that. It's Ms Mendeleiev that's a little trickier to deal with."

"Tell me about it," Marinette muttered, only to gasp and go tense. "I mean, uhh… Yeah, I've been crate—late to her class a few times. It's never easy."

They stopped outside their classroom door, Adrien's hand returning to her shoulder. He leaned in close and this time, her unfit charade wasn't the reason her breath hitched.

"Just follow my lead, okay?"

Marinette nodded, unable to hide a slight smile at the irony. Usually, it was him that followed her lead. He just didn't know it.

Adrien offered her an encouraging smile, then eased the classroom door aside. Miss Bustier was seated at her desk, her eyes on them and her hands hovering over the keys on her laptop. Their classmates looked up from their tablets, their eyes flicking between Marinette and Adrien.

Adrien entered first. "Sorry we're late, Miss Bustier." He held the door open and snuck Marinette a supportive wink that made her cheeks burn.

This time, Marinette's stumble was unintentional as she stepped inside, feeling all eyes on her. She didn't know what was worse: the way Chloe and Lila glared daggers at her or the bug-eyed look on Alya's face.

Behind her, Adrien clicked the door shut, and she cleared her throat. "Uhh. Y-Yeah!" Her face scrunched in apology. "Sorry, Miss Bustier"—she itched her cheek—"for interrupting the lesson."

Miss Bustier nodded, showing a gracious smile. "Please take your seats and pull out your tablets. We're starting a pop quiz in a couple of minutes."

Adrien and Marinette nodded in sync, and he gracefully claimed his seat.

Her?

She tripped on the first step, greeted the second with her shin, and crawled the rest of the way. Once she was in her seat, her panic-struck eyes shot to Miss Bustier, only to be met by a knowing smile.

A sigh of relief slipped from Marinette's lips as she placed her backpack on her desk.

That relief was short-lived.

Alya leaned into her personal bubble, rocking a smirk. "Girl," she whispered, her eyes narrow with amusement. "Start. Talking."

Marinette played dumb. "About what?" she whispered back, hunched behind her backpack to avoid Miss Bustier's stare.

Alya rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You and Adrien just showed up to class together. Late. With super messy hair." She raised a brow. "There's gotta be a story there!"

"There's no story, Alya," she said through a sigh.

"Oh, come on." Alya eyed her from behind her tablet, her smirk growing. "Did you two finally make out in the utility closet?"

"ALYA!" Marinette screeched, somehow knocking her bag over the back of her desk. It brushed Adrien's back as it descended toward the wooden floor, meeting it with a dull thud.

"Marinette," said Miss Bustier, looking up from her laptop to send her a stern look, "if you arrive late, I expect you to do it discreetly."

She stooped her head low. "Sorry, Miss Bustier!"

Adrien turned in his chair - his tablet already laid out on his desk - and with a sympathetic smile, he heaved her bag off the floor. She nodded her thanks as he placed it on the desk. Only when he turned back to his tablet did she shoot Alya a glare.

"We both just happened to be late," she quietly growled, "and I kinda forgot to brush my hair, so Adrien messed his up to make me feel better. And to save us interrupting class twice, we decided to show up together." The slightest smirk Alya still showed only had her eyes rolling. "Need I remind you he's dating Kagami?"

That swept the smugness from her face. "All riiiight, I believe you." She watched, her eyes squinting in thought, as Marinette pulled her tablet from her backpack. "But hey, speaking of dating… How're things going with Luka?" Of course, her teasing smile returned; it never did seem to be gone for long. "Maybe it's him you're smooching in a closet, hmm?"

Thoughts of last night swarmed to the forefront of Marinette's mind, and her stomach churned at the reminder of Luka. "I… No! We're just hanging out." She set her backpack on the floor and turned back to her tablet, bringing up their pop quiz with a shaky finger.

Alya turned to her own tablet. "So, does that mean you guys haven't kissed yet?"

Marinette's cheeks flushed pink and she shook her head excessively. "Don't you think I'd tell you if we had?"

Alya lightly elbowed Marinette's side. "When it comes to you, girl, I never know what to think."

Briefly, she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Okay. Fair point, but trust me, Alya, if I ever get a boyfriend, you'll be the first to know."

---

Usually, sitting behind Adrien was a blessing.

Today, it was a curse.

No matter how hard she tried, Marinette's eyes kept drifting to the boy ahead of her. She studied the curve of his broad shoulders, recalling all the times she'd seen them wrapped in leather. She strained her ears each time he spoke and now it was impossible to unhear her partner. And during last period, when Alya struck up a conversation with him, she caught her eyes travelling the defined arc of his jaw.

Now that she knew he was Chat Noir, she just couldn't unsee it.

"So, Adrien," Alya was saying, leaning over her desk. "You gonna come play Ultimate Mecha Strike III tomorrow?" She glanced between the two boys ahead. "I might also pull out Just Dance if I'm feeling a little bit groovy," she added, shimmying in her seat.

"Yeah, Alya!" Adrien said, his face alight. "I'll definitely be there this time!"

Marinette bolted upright in her seat, horror flashing across her face.

"Good to hear," Alya said beside her.

"Yeah! Would you believe my father said yes for a change?" Adrien tapped his lips, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling. "He's been in a pretty good mood lately… I think." He looked back at Alya, smiling. "Kagami's excited too. And maybe a bit nervous. She hasn't really hung out with more than a couple of friends at a time."

A splash of pity washed over Marinette. It'd been a while since her last orange juice outing with Kagami and she knew those meet-ups meant a lot to her. For a moment, she considered arranging another one.

That thought was quickly crushed by the glaring reminder that sat before her - otherwise known as Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir.

Kagami's boyfriend.

She pulled her arms across her torso, her eyes sinking to the dented surface of her desk. She was almost certain a catch up with Kagami would end tragically. Heck, it would probably start tragically too—at least while her knowledge of Chat's identity was still fresh.

Adrien and Kagami's relationship had been – still was – extremely hard to swallow. Knowing Kagami's boyfriend was also Chat Noir somehow seemed to make things more complicated. And now that she thought about it, it was no wonder Chat had flirted with Ryuko last week, during their brief fight with Loveater.

Marinette had a feeling she'd continue to be struck by realisations like this for at least a few weeks. Understandable, considering she's been unknowingly crushing on her superhero partner this whole time. She barely bit back a groan at that lovely reminder. It sounded like the punchline of a very bad joke. Or maybe she was the punchline?

"I'm excited for Kagami to be a bigger part of our friend group," Alya was saying, a teasing lilt in her voice as she continued. "Especially now that you two are an item." She elbowed Marinette, prompting a wince. "Isn't that right, girl?"

Rubbing her aching side, Marinette grinned a little too widely at the boys seated below her. At any other time, the red that crept across Adrien's cheeks would've been adorable. Now, it twisted her heart.

"I – Uhh. Yeah." She hoped her smile seemed genuine, at least to Adrien. "I can – I mean, I can't wait!"

[dzamie-oc]

5: Sad

When I was eight years old, my grandfather warned me about starry-winged dragons. "They eat people, you know, that's how they get their name," he said, leaning forward in his chair, "their wings are black as void when they hatch from the egg. But when they grow big, and they eat a human..." He drew his fingers together, then opened his hand, like a twinkling star. "Plink! A new, white star, sparkling somewhere beneath their wings!" I took him dead serious, of course - age begets wisdom, and my grandfather had an awful lot of age.

At fourteen, I hiked into the woods on a warm spring afternoon. I was meant to stay with the others, but I sensed adventure off the beaten path. I took care to leave a subtle trail - arrows made from twigs, bound in blades of grass. A good adventuring story holds little worth if it cannot be told, after all. My path took me past a serene lake, under a stone arch some dark green lizards were fighting over, and finally into a dim cave. Once my eyes adjusted, I noticed another pair of eyes looking back at me. 

Laying on the stone floor was a dragon, scales black as night. It raised its head, then sat up. Through its folded wings, I caught a glimpse of tiny specks of light hidden beneath. “Hello there, little one. Why are you here? Humans do not often seek my counsel.” The dragon had a low, resonating voice that felt like it was speaking directly into my mind. The scaly head, easily twice the size of my torso, drifted nearer on a sleek, serpentine neck, letting the creature look over me before continuing, “besides, you are small for a human, a juvenile. I know of no human trail that leads to my den, so what led you to seek me out?”

A dragon, scales darker than the void, and wings filled with bright stars. A memory called out, insisting I back away, or even run, from an obvious man-eater. But I was fourteen. I had some years under my belt, and was confident that the adults were lying, or wrong. I had done a fantastic job of not dying for almost a decade and a half, and certainly this streak would not be interrupted. So I stepped forward, and told the truth: “I’m looking to find and make stories. Do you have any?”

The head drew back a bit and blinked. For the briefest of moments, I considered the possibility that I had irreversibly messed up. It passed, thankfully, and a few seconds later, the dragon smiled and giggled, mirth in its eyes. “What a fascinating question! You’ve found the right dragoness; I’ve known many humans, and heard many tales. Here, young human, I have at least a story for every star in my glittering wings. Come, point one out, and I will share its contents.” She sat up and spread her wings out, revealing two great expanses of shimmering, starlit night sky, held captive on a scaly canvas. That was the precise moment I truly understood the word “awestruck.” I hardly noticed my feet move as I stepped closer to her, watching as the stars twinkled, or at least seemed to, and reached out to touch one.

When I did, she jolted, half-furling the wing back up with another giggle. “Oh, I am rather ticklish; I did say to point for a reason. But, ah, you chose this one?” A black claw pointed to a star - in truth, I’d forgotten exactly which it was, but nodded just the same, eliciting a smile from the scaly creature. “Ah, the tale of Varren Kristaller, a spirited mailman. Let me see, where to begin...

“Varren was, as you might guess, a mailman. He was very good at his job, and took great pride in the work. You know the ‘neither rain, nor snow, nor dark of night’ motto? Varren was that times a billion. In his line of work, he had dragged a mail recipient from an inferno, tightrope walked across a roaring river when the bridge was out, and even decked a territorial displacer beast when it stood between him and his goal. A thin, wiry sort of lad, but a sense of duty like you’d never seen. Until finally, he faced his toughest challenge yet: a mountain pass had suffered a rockslide, and the only other way from point A to point B was through an uncharted forest, filled with dangerous creatures...”

Her tale was riveting, and before I had realized, an hour had passed and I was sitting against her side, feeling her breath push her scales out and in while she spoke. “... He had seen the village, though, a mere ten minutes’ walk away! Sure, his legs felt like jelly and the snake’s venom was starting to rattle his brain, but you can bet: ten, fifteen minutes later, the mail was delivered. He had done it!” Her breath hitched and her gaze faltered after that sentence, so overwhelmed with emotions was she. Seeing the growing shadows on the ground outside, however, I was forced to bid her goodbye, thanking her dearly for the wonderful story.

My trip back was uneventful, my blazes clear to someone who would be looking for them. I got quite a dressing-down for ditching the others, though; they had thought I had died in the woods. It was a silly matter; I was fourteen, so I knew how not to get killed by the forest.

Years passed. I grew up, I took a trade, I worked steadily most weeks of the year. Love eluded me, though it’s not like I sought it out, either. One of my weeks off, however, I was seized by wanderlust once more - old, comfortable, yet somewhat unfamiliar after such a long time. This time, however, I let my friends and family know I was going for a walk in the woods. What I didn’t tell them, of course, was that I had a destination in mind.

The route had changed over the years. The pond was smaller - although, perhaps it was me who had gotten bigger - and the stone archway had collapsed, though there still stood a triumphant lizard, basking in the sun on its rock. The cave was much the same, but the dragon within was not resting as she had been the first time.

“Hello? Miss dragon?” I called out as I slowly stepped into the shadows. While waiting for my eyes to adjust to the low light, a scaly paw as wide as my chest pushed me firmly against the rock wall; it hadn’t hurt me, but I wouldn’t be moving without the dragon’s say-so.

“Pray tell, human, why have you come here? Fame? A trophy? I hope you do not seek a dragon’s hoard, for my cave is bare of such things.” The tense tone clashed strongly with my memory of her voice. Still, she did not sound angry, and her questioning pulled at my memories.

A quip came to mind - I did desire to take from her glittery hoard, not gold or gems, but something far more value. But, with the unerring confidence of adolescence firmly in the past, I knew that, if she desired, I would not return to the village. “Many of my friends enjoy the story of Varren Kristaller, and I would be much obliged if you would share another or two.” Using “story” and the mailman’s name so early, I hoped to remind her of our meeting decades ago.

To my relief, her eyes softened, as did her grip, and a smile curled her scaly lips. “Oh! Yes, the juvenile story-hunter. It has been some time, no? Do tell me you won’t make that mistake again!” The dragon laughed, stepped back, and spread her wings. They were as beautiful as I had remembered, if not moreso. Utterly enthralling... I wondered, silently, if she or another starry-winged dragon would hunt like this, simply baring their wings and eating their captivated prey. Her voice shook me out of my deep admiration, however. “Shall we play the same game, then? Oh, do take care not to touch - I am still ticklish, after all.” I smiled back, easily ignoring that her smile was full of sharp fangs and bigger than my entire head.

Stepping closer, I looked through the stellar skyscape of her wings before pointing at a large, bright star. “How about this one? Or maybe the dim one over here...”

‘Ooh, tough choice. I’ll start with the bright one, Sophie Ferrum the birdkeeper. The duller one is Savar Kiernari, a humble clerk; his title sounds less interesting, but both their stories deserve to be shared. If you’ve the time, I’ll gladly share both.” The dark dragoness smoothly laid down and reached out with a paw, beckoning me closer. Never one to refuse an invitation for a good story, I took a seat by her scaly chest, leaning back against her as she wove her tale. “Now then, Sophie was the proud owner of no less than four pigeons, a red-bellied woodpecker, and two cardinals. But this story is about a vacation she took once...”

“...and I would reckon that little book is still in that chest, buried beneath the library.” The dragoness scraped at the floor with her claws, as though digging a spot for the sole copy of the book. With her second story of the day complete, I stood up and stretched, immediately both regretting sitting by her for so long and resolving to never regret listening to her. Joints popped, stiff from remaining so still for so long, even with such a wonderful place to sit. When I turned to face her, however, my eyes lingered on her mouth, and a question struck me.

“If you don’t mind, miss dragon... what happened to them?” 

“Ah, pardon? What do you mean?” The smile on her sleek muzzle was gone, but she didn’t seem hostile or angry.

Well, in for a penny... “What happened to them? To Varren, to Sophie, to Savar? Envenomated and crippled, stranded in a tree, and driven to the woods in desolation?” I counted them off on my fingers as I spoke. “Their stories ended well, sure, but did they?”

The dragon visibly shrank back, and she glanced off to the sides. “Are you sure you want to know? They say ignorance is bliss...” she said, though even she didn’t believe it.

“And if I wanted ignorance, I wouldn’t collect stories. Now please, I won’t- I’ll do my level best not to judge.” I offer a smile to the stunning, scaly creature. “You seem to have a number of sad stories, but you pretend they’re not.”

She sighed, and even in the low light, I could see her chest and belly grow and shrink with the heavy breath. “Well... alright. Varren: too weak to move, found temporary refuge in a cave. Told his tale, pleaded his task be carried out in his stead, and was eaten by a dragon. Sophie: fell from the tree, shattering many bones. Begged a passing dragon to end her pain, and her story was found in the journal still on her. Savar: sought out the dragon and regaled her with his woeful tale. Pried her jaws open and threw himself on her fangs.” She cast her eyes downward, letting her star-speckled wings droop and brush the floor. “I have lived many hundreds of years. My wings carry on them two thousand, six hundred and forty-nine stars; thirty-one of them did not exist when you first found me.”

I stepped back, feeling my way against the wall. “Thirty-one? But that’s... do you hunt us?” I had suspected her a man-eater, but the sheer scale...

A large, scaly paw started to reach for me, pleading my stay, but hesitated and fell. “I do not consider it hunting. I find them in peril, I take careful heed of their story, and my wings gain a star.” She smiled then, but the twitch of her lips did not meet her eyes; she saw the fear in mine, and happiness eluded her. “Perhaps I could have saved some. Maybe all of them, although I doubt that. But when they are unwilling or unable to leave my company, I stop their breath, and keep what was their life alive with me. A story is no good if nobody is left who can tell it.”

I promised her I would think about her words, and then I left. Away from the dangerous forest and its black, starry-winged reaper.

It was probably a full year I dwelled on her words. Of course, I still worked, and in spare time spun the stories of Savar and of Sophie. When I was feeling particularly bitter towards the dragon, and in adult company, Sophie would fall from the tree, and Savar would cast himself upon the beasts of the forest. When I held her plea in good favor, Sophie merely lived with her birds as long as she could, and Savar walked off to lands unknown.

It was then with some hesitation that I found myself in front of that cave once more. “Miss dragon? I’m back. The storyteller.”

This time, she sat in the middle of the cave, staring at me. “If you have brought men to kill me, I must confess I may not take the time to learn their stories.” It was a similar fluid, yet guarded voice that had spoken to me while she held me to a wall. “But... I smell no others on you, nor do I hear the clanking of armor. You have rendered a decision?”

I steeled my nerves and stepped forward, approaching her slowly but steadily. “I believe so. After a year, I have only two questions. First being, have you any new stars?”

If there had been any emotion in her eyes, she had forced it out upon hearing me. Instead, she opened a wing and pointed a claw, a shadow over the night sky. “Next to my second claw, the dim one of that cluster of three. She was the only one.” 

I walked towards the indicated stars, but stopped well before being able to touch her. “Thank you for not lying and saying zero,” I said, “now, question two. What was her story?”

This time, her smile was genuine. I learned only one new story from that visit, but gained something far more valuable and precious to me.

Years and decades plodded along, as such things are wont to do. Friends and family grew, faded, and grew anew, but I would always make sure to visit the dragon with her star-speckled wings. Sometimes I would have to wait an hour or two for her to return to her home, but she always had a story for my eager ears, and a spot by her side, even when I had to start bringing my own chair. And then, after a hiatus of a few years, on a warm spring afternoon, I did not come alone. Two of my great-nephews helped me along the familiar path, with me pointing the way. The beautiful lake had, after some heavy rainy seasons, become a lively marsh; that crumbling arch fell further and grew cacti, of all things. And a young tree by the dragon’s cave had grown and thickened.

The boys tried one more time to change my mind, but I was adamant. I would walk in alone. They didn’t have to stay outside, and I would not return to tell them when to leave. It was a terrible thing, making them the bearer of such commands, but I hoped they would forgive me in time. Balancing against a sturdy walking-stick, I stumbled into the darkness.

“Dragon, I am here.”

I couldn’t see her against the cave walls, save for her eyes and her stars. It was nice of her to keep her wings open like that. “It has been some time,” she said, failing to hide her worry, “how are you?”

I shook my head, giving her a question of my own. “How many stars do you have?”

She winced at the question - she always did - and replied, “two thousand, seven hundred, and fifty-three.”

“Would you like another?”

The dragon stumbled and sputtered. She gaped in surprise, staring at me as though searching for any sign of a joke. But no sign came. After a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

“In truth? I would not. But...” As she neared, I felt a warm, humid breeze, blowing from her location. “But... I will have one, anyway.”