#cause in this au at least they all Knew the puppets were alive

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

years later someone buys the plot, turns on the lights and is suddenly worshipped as a sun god by a bunch of puppets falling apart at the seams

pov you break into the spooky abandoned Playfellow Studios building for shits and giggles

[scarapanna]

(Shadow Vanilla AU, pt. 3)

now we get into the actual story! (i think i forgot to turn on anon for the past ask.. HELP ME. if you SAW MY USERNAME, NO YOU DIDN'T. /silly)

CW for a brief mention of su!c!dal ideation (nothing graphic though)

-----

It begins with the failure of the Beast Yeast expedition.

It has all gone horribly wrong.

The Faerie Kingdom has fallen. What once was left of the real White Lily is truly no more. The small, innocent piece of her, what remained, the small sliver of hope, is gone. The Light of Freedom has gone silent.

The expedition team is badly battered and exhausted. They didn't even make it to where the "failed Ancients" are sealed away. They barely made it out alive.

The expedition team returns to Crispia to lick their wounds and regroup. Hopefully, the collective might of the remaining kingdoms and Ancients will be enough to take down Dark Enchantress Cookie and her forces. It has to be enough. There are no more options.

Pure Vanilla is in the worst shape of them all. The recent trauma of losing White Lily all over again is almost more than he can bear. The memories are raw and exposed, and they hurt. They make him weak.

To make it even worse, even though they never found the "failed Ancients", Shadow Milk could sense the presence of the Soul Jam on Beast Yeast anyways. He knew they were there all along. The squid that crashed the airship wasn't a coincidental mistake.

Shadow Milk speaks to Pure Vanilla in his mind, telling him horrible things-- telling him to do horrible things. Even if he no longer has his true power, a physical body off the island, he can extend his influence and speak to Pure Vanilla through the vessel of the Soul Jam. Pure Vanilla pushes him away, calling him "horrible", condemning him and telling Shadow Milk never to speak to him again. Shadow Milk won't let him go just yet, though. He needs a puppet to execute his plans, and what better puppet than the vestige of a king, the very one who received the power that was supposed to be HIS? ALL HIS?

Under the weight of these two things, the "true death" of White Lily and the voices of Shadow Milk constantly echoing in his head, both Pure Vanilla's willpower and his will to live crumbles (pun intended). His mental fortitude wasn't generally that good before, but now it's... bad. Really, really bad.

So consequently, Pure Vanilla's mental and physical health go into sharp decline. He starts mumbling in his sleep, bags form under his eyes, barely eating, losing weight. He's in very bad shape. But he can't tell anyone what's wrong. He has to be perfect. He has to be perfect. How can he be anything but, when so many people look up to and are depending on him right now?

So he bottles his problems up and keeps his feelings to himself, showing no weakness, just like a "good" leader should. All for the betterment of the future. Better push aside these feelings now, so everyone can benefit later.

Pure Vanilla's friends suspect something is wrong, especially those who went on the expedition with him, but they all think the cause of it is the "true death" of White Lily. Nobody wants to bring it up with him, for fear of hurting or losing him.

The only person who has an inkling of what he's going through is Hollyberry. She has been to Beast-Yeast before; the Soul Jam's previous owner spoke to her. She had to resist, but it was nowhere near as traumatic as Pure Vanilla's experience. She tries her best to help him get through it, or at least help him resist, but Pure Vanilla pushes her away.

He pushes all of them away. He doesn't want his friends really seeing the hurt he's been through. He doesn't want to talk. Shadow Milk sees this all. Through the link of the Soul Jam, he's able to maintain a psychic connection. He weaves seeds of doubt through Pure Vanilla's mind, causing him to isolate himself even further. Manipulating him.

"Well.. maybe they would understand. They're my friends. They need me to be honest with them, and I think they'd appreciate it." "But are they.. really? They wouldn't understand. Weakness is a liability here. You're.. expendable. If you show your weakness... you'll have no friends anymore. I'm the only one you have left... the only one you can truly be honest with." Now that Pure Vanilla is alone, completely cut off from his friends, Shadow Milk uses the opportunity to become a sympathetic ear.

And the isolation just makes Pure Vanilla even more vulnerable. He's blinded by an endless loop of grief and hurt. And because of this, he confides in Shadow Milk, because he thinks it's the only option. "I shouldn't be talking to you. The things you've done.. the things you've said to me..." "Pure Vanilla, I was.. forced to do those things. I was dealt a hand I couldn't help, just like you. I'm.. deeply sorry. I've made mistakes. I'm not a bad Cookie.. Is that what you really believe? Or is that just what they want you to believe? I'm here for you. Really. I'm not the enemy here."

"I.. well.. oh, crumbs. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have judged you so harshly. I can see now that.. you're a bit like me. I apologize..."

"I accept your apology. I can help you, you know.. if you just let me in... tell me what's troubling you..." Eventually, Shadow Milk gets to a point where Pure Vanilla is so trusting of him, that if he wants, he could take over PV's body. And Shadow Milk knows it.

Now, Shadow Milk's voice becomes less of a comforting echo in the back of Pure Vanilla's mind, a shoulder to cry on, and becomes.. controlling. Bullying. Jockeying for a place in Pure Vanilla's mind, trying to take over completely.

And by the time Pure Vanilla's realized that he's been taken advantage of, that he was blinded by grief and anger, it's too late. The most he can do is fight back as much as possible, try to maintain some semblance of control over his own body. Shadow Vanilla.

One cookie’s mind, another's body. Pure Vanilla is drowning in his own head, and nobody is there to witness it. He contemplates taking his own life, just to break Shadow Milk's control. If there's no messenger, there cannot be no message.

But it's too late. It's too late. It's.. too late.

It’s only a matter of time before PV loses at Shadow Milk’s mind games... or dies.

Whichever comes first.

"After I'm finished with this pathetic little body, I might just give it an encore by throwing it off the edge of the Kingdom you once held so dear! Some will mourn your loss, but nobody will have a clue what really went on. They'll think you just... gave up. You'll be remembered not as a Hero, but a coward."

"You- you can't... I- I WON'T LET YOU! I'LL-"

"You'll... ha! You'll what? Maybe you forgot; i'll say it again. You're not in control here anymore.." -----

Shadow Vanilla's design doesn't vary much from canon. He looks about normal, but he's hiding a lean, almost gaunt frame underneath his robes. He also has bags under his eyes, slightly more tousled hair, and a Soul Jam that appears less saturated: more grey than vibrant blue. If you look at it just right, you can almost see.. a slit pupil in the middle of it.. but that isn't possible. It must just be a trick of the light. As for his personality, he's not like himself at all. He becomes quite paranoid. He seems disjointed, extremely unhappy all the time, and easily irritable. Almost as if he's just... a shadow of the Cookie he once was...

----- Thank you for taking the time to read this! I'm sorry it's long,, AAAA.. but I love you so much for doing this! Thanks a lot! /gen /p

Ooooh that's some really intriguing stuff you got there anon!!

I wasn't expecting the idea of SM using manipulative tactics to get a hold of pv, really interesting idea tho!

[akirameta84]

Just, behold. Aiura is rightfully angry at Kuusuke, and she's going to both get vengeance and help her dear friend at the same time. After all, someone has to do so.

Also random Iterator Toritsuka thought. When he lashes out at Kuusuke, inadvertently starting the entire thing, he was just expressing an opinion he, Aiura, low-key Saiki, and a bunch of other Iterators had for a while. Everyone was sick and tired of his complaints about Saiki's existence, and Toritsuka just so happened to be the one to snap. Anyone could've snapped and be the catalyst. Everyone knows this, and Aiura has pointed this out to Toritsuka many times after Kuusuke cut off all connections and started draining away at his and Saiki's shared water supply, causing Toritsuka to tell her what happened in an attempt at asking for help at figuring out how to fix this.

But even with this logic, even with others supporting him, the guilt is still there. Sure he's rightfully angry at Kuusuke, but he was still the one to finally light the fuse to everything that happened, even if it was by accident.

But he knew how to help revive Saiki. Sure it'll take a while for everything to be in place for his plan to safely happen, but that's just more time to prepare. So he started to carefully build a Purposed Organism. One that'll survive the trip, revive Saiki, then stick around as a companion to Saiki.

Sure the end result, Nendou, was a bit simple minded, but he's still perfect for the task. Sure he had to rebuild his genome almost from scratch right when he thought Nendou was complete due to it attacking Nendou's body, but that just meant he had more time to figure out a route from his Super Structure to Saiki's submerged one and find his Puppet Body. Sure the most direct route has Kuusuke's Super Structure right in between his and Saiki's, but that just means that Nendou can wreck the place, just a bit. Maybe steal one of Kuusuke's precious pearls to pay a Scavenger toll.

So he made the Slag Code Neuron, gave it to Nendou, then prayed that his efforts weren't pointless. Because if they were, he doesn't know if he'll still be sane.

while it wouldnt be a longfic like my isekai scug saiki au, im so very tempted to make this au into an extended oneshot ough

again just: yes to everything. even if toritsuka feels at fault, the only one responsible is kuusuke himself. anyone couldve caused him to snap. hell, he couldve caused himself to snap. it was just sheer unluckiness that made toritsuka the end result

also very very crack idea: scug nendou has the chin as remnants of Rot cysts that almost afflicted him lmfao. he doesnt have the Rot, its inert and can't harm him or reproduce, but those cysts just remained even with his genome being fixed

toritsuka was very worried when his purposed organism seemed much less intelligent than the average slugcat, which already aren't exactly geniuses. but nendou succeeded anyways because at the very least he never forgot the goal he'd been programmed with.

his efforts were not pointless. and while kusuo can't communicate with anyone or do much at all, and can barely remember anything...he's alive again, and his puppet isn't laying face down in the mud and water anymore, so thats something

ty for the ask ough. you know my apology for parroting what you say basically response at this point ahjdgfb its hard to be unique when i just agree with everything so much

[kindaasrikal]

@morroodle here, i shall explain the Morro AU in more detail

you wanna know where Morro’s going? Then this is gonna be a long one.

The preeminent is a whole realm, making her much more powerful then we could ever imagine. Whilst her only weakness is water, she doesn’t react to it the same way her ghosts (slaves) do. When the cursed ghosts are hit with any amount of water, they pretty much go poof aggressively and go back to the cursed realm, AKA the inside of the preeminent. Here’s where that logic skews, because when she was emerged into the water, her ghosts would logically be sent back inside her, going through a cycle of agony for the rest of their existence. Canonically, the preeminent is told to have also gone poof or “died”, but in this AU thats not the case. Her body becomes weakened, shrivelled as it falls to the deepest parts of the ocean. It no longer has the power to contain ghosts inside her sooo- and now remember how i said the two consciousnesses of the realms of the dead?- the souls are sent to her sister realm, the realm of the departed, who opened itself up to the cursed souls. (More happened then just that, because lets be real, souls of the cursed and souls of the departed can’t actually be in one realm. At least, not all of them. I have a story for that too)

Ever since then, the body of the preeminent has be laying in the deepest parts of the ocean, unseen by all, even Nya. Wu had some thoughts about it, but dismissed it on the day of the departed when Morro came to help Cole (haha he was scared Morro was stuck in a constant suffering loop). Her body is weakened…yet, unlike the others, she can’t evaporate. In her last moments of consciousness, she used her remaining power to keep her body intact under the water, instead of becoming a pile of goop. The way she did this, was by creating a version of her own soul stone and realm crystal. To put it more simply, she used her powers to create a physical object that will keep her ‘alive’ similarly to a soul stone, yet in other aspects its much more different and more similar to a realm crystal (i need to make more lore on that)

As stated before, (some) cursed ghosts are now chilling in the departed realm, such as Morro. During the events that led him to the point in my previous post, his role in the story is somewhat confusing. No im not gonna go too much into depth on that one cause i wanna keep is suspenseful. So eventually after a few horrific situations, Morro is dragged down to Ninjago yet again and hunts down Lloyd. Once he gets the other alone, he reveals himself and that whole scene happened.

Now to get to your actual question (genuinely im sorry for the rant i wanted to just dump lore 😭) the place Morro never wanted to go, yet never really had a choice but to go eventually, was the body of the preeminent. The realm of the departed had hoped that her sister realm, the preeminent, would no longer be a problem. And despite the issues that Morro still faced over the years after her down fall, he truly thought it was simply trauma from the past. Yet once the merge came around, he knew that the voices in his head were no delusion. He and a few other key characters did what they did until realising that she was a genuine threat they might have to face unless dealt with properly, so Morro may or may not have taken matters into his own hands and decided “Hey! Why don’t I, the ghost she used to put on a pedestal as her puppet, go down and collect her soul stone? Its not like I’ll die!”

So yeah, he’s going to go find a way to visit the preeminent’s body. Thought once he enters, her ‘soul crystal’ may not be the only thing he finds.

This was fun, if you have anymore questions you can ask them whenever!

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together

gwynriel pirate au pt 7-god may be a man but the devil comes in the form of a women

check out the other parts if you want :) pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6,

Feyre, feyre, feyre. Feyre fucking archeron. The name of the women before them reverberated through out her body, echoing against her ears, clouding every thought in her mind. 

Gwyn was going to rip this bitch to shreds. why must the archeron’s be such a huge part of her life. One she consider her family, the other was love gone sour but the youngest archeron, the pain this women caused her was tenfold to anything Elain could have given her. 

She hardened her self to the memories that arouse, let her anger burn through any remaining hope to salvage what they once were. 

Her history with the assassin was long but her seconds was longer, she scolded herself for being so selfish. 

Gwyn looked over to Nesta and struggled intensely not to go to her. To anyone else she appeared as she always did, cold, indifferent, unbothered. But gwyn saw the slight twitch of her hands, and narrow of her eyebrows. the way she dug her nails into her palms and the almost imperceptible change of her breathing. This unexpected visit had shaken her second and Gwyn knew first hand she didn’t do well when she wasn’t in control. 

Nesta permitted seeing her sister all of once a year and gwyn had forced her to spend an hour with her just a few short weeks ago. 

And while she was looking at Nesta, Nesta was staring at the strange interaction going on between Feyre and The Shadowsinger’s own second. 

Gwyn’s mind was spinning, going over every way this could possibly go wrong, there were quite a few if shew as being honest. Her gaze cut to Azriel, his features gave away nothing except she knew recognition when she saw it. 

Azriel did not know her, but Rhys sure as hell did. 

Feyre’s eyes locked with Rhys’s, there was tension there, hatred even if they couldn’t look away. 

“You look as radiant as ever Feyre, darling.” His voice was light, it was teasing with a hint of mockery. Although it would be impossible to dispute that Feyre was beautiful, even in the dingy light of a grotesque bar she couldn’t help but draw the eye to her. 

Feyre could never be anything short of perfect. The irony of her being a trained murderer was not lost on anyone that knew her. 

“You look about as well as the bottom of my shoe.” Her features were one of practiced disgust. And yet she was in a room with some of her greatest friends turned enemies and all she could do was stare at that boy. “What the hell are you doing here Rhysand?”  

“I happen to find that the daily bouts of my life are none of your business anymore.” anymore. Clearly there was history here, but exactly what kind? Romantic or platonic, romantic or platonic.

Feyre stared back at him with a glare that could rival icy coldness of her sister, still clutching the lives of innocents on the thin line between life and death. A line she knew all too well.

This was going to be so fucking annoying. So gwyn took the opportunity to interrupt whatever that was, plastering a grin to her own face as she drawled, “Feyre archeron, so unlike you to be so distracted you don’t even say hello to a dear friend,” Gwyn gave her a look of mock surprise, “by a boy no less.” 

She turned towards her with distain, “Yes, my apologies, hello Gwyneth. You too sister.” Nesta remained silent, thankfully, in order for all of them to walk out of here alive her second had to keep swords to herself. 

“I remember mentions of a chat?” Azriel supplied quietly. 

Feyre’s mood brightened, “ah yes thank you for the reminder, we were getting off track. I have a proposal.” 

While she spoke, Gwyn’s eyes met Azriel’s from across the room. I know what you are about to do and I need you to please just follow my lead. Gwyn knew as well as any that the eyes told stories, she was praying that this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch. 

She needed her pirate enemy on her side. I’ll be damned, gwyneth berdara used the word please. 

You are despicable. 

You love it. 

Over my dead fucking body. 

No need for the language your majesty. 

I’ll use whatever language I want. 

Azriel inched closer to Feyre, slowly pulling out a knife. 

Stop, Azriel you have to stop. gwyn pleaded with her eyes.

Why? There’s almost twenty of us. 

Yeah, we would need an army of hundreds to defeat that women. 

Azrie scoffed, that’s impossible. 

Beyond her being the greatest assassin of our generation, she’s- 

Gwyn could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. She watched as he slowly but sure connected the dots, noting the way she radiated power. 

I’ll be damned, she’s fae isn’t she? 

That women can kill you without even lifting a finger. 

Oh Berdara are you worried for me?

Gwyn was about to respond when her senses kicked in and she noticed it was abnormally quiet. She forced her gaze away from azriel’s to find everyone staring at them. 

“It’s almost as if you want me to slit their throats.” Feyre sighed. “Now are you two done?” 

She stayed silent so Feyre took it to mean continue, but really Gwyn was just contemplating all the ways she could cut out her vocal cords. 

“Anyways, back to my proposition. Under the law, pirates are considered criminals, however her great majesty, the queen turns a blind eye to the deeds of your...folk.” She sounded disgusted. 

“And here I was under the impression that you murdered for a living.” Nesta responded. 

“I murder for the sake of the greater good, you murder for fun. We are not the same.” 

“You are a delusional coward.” 

“And you are nothing, not even worth an insult.” Feyre laughed. “At least our imbecile of a sister had the curtesy of retaining some magic, but you dear sister could not even light a flame if your life depended on it.” 

“Ah yes Feyre Archeron the greatest assassin to ever live, a puppet on a string still craving the validation of a queen who cares nothing for you. Poweful fae who falls to her knees for the very same you think yourself better than.” Rhys to his credit did not react to the clear insult. 

“You, my dear sister, are so much less than nothing,” She tilted her head and smiled, repeating her words. “and you believe you are everything.” Feyre grip on the knives she was holding tightened against the throats of Tarquin and Viviane. “It’s pathetic really cause you’re the only one.” 

The archeron sisters stared daggers at each other, each refusing to back down. 

Gwyn’s mask changed from insane adventurer to the pirate captain she occasionally had to be. 

Her voice turned icy, her posture straightened, and she clenched her jaw, “Nesta stand down.” Gwyn ordered, dominance infused in those three simple words. She turned to Feyre, “How about we discuss in private where family and ex lovers do not intervene.” 

“And ex friends are better?” 

“Oh Feyre, sweetie, don’t get it confused, you are clearly here for a reason, my only concern is, have you come as my enemy or as my ally?”

“Me holding your crew hostage doesn’t give you a clue?” She droned. 

“I’ve known you far too long to ever be fooled into making assumptions of your intentions.” 

“I’m glad somebody here has some semblance of a brain.” Feyre shot a look in Nesta’s direction and then one to Rhys. “Now I am going to let you two go,” Feyre purred. “But do not mistake that for safety. Captains come.” Gwyn rolled her eyes to Azriel 

What are we dogs? 

Obviously we pale in comparison to the greatness of this women. 

Gwyn laughed before she could stop herself. Everyone in the silent bar turned to look at her. Gwyn stared right back refusing to be embarrassed although she felt color flushed her neck. Azriel flashed her a smile, one that would send any ordinary soul to their knees. But gwyn wasn’t any ordinary soul, right?

They followed Feyre into the back room, watching her sit on the chair like a throne before speaking, “As I was saying my queen overlooks your faults for various reasons of her own but this fairytale you are chasing must be put an end to.”

Azriel crossed his arms, “and why is that?”

“Like I said the queen has her reasons, however, she is willing to make a deal with you two.” 

“No.” No, no, no. Gwyn was done with the queen. Forcing the memories down her mind reacted like a moth to a flame repeating the mantra that got her to where she was today, never again she promised herself, never again. 

Feyre ignored her. “Her majesty is willing to absolve you of all your crimes and keep both The Shadowsinger and The Silver majesty extremely well off for the rest of your lives.” 

“What’s the catch?” Azriel questioned.

“You pirates, always so untrusting.”

“What’s the catch?” He repeated through gritted teeth. 

“You allow the huge hall to be conquered in the queens name.” 

“Why would we ever do that?” Feyre was many many things but she was not an idiot. There is no reason for her to ever believe either captain would agree to the fools bargain. So she waited for her to play the rest of her hand. 

Feyre laughed as if they were beneath her. “Because you need me.”

Tagging: @imsointobooks @meher-sumedha @himadrij @gwynrielsupremacy @ipsa-est-lux-plenae @flora-shadowshine @allthebooksunderthemoon @valkygwyn @bookish-isha @lattristantketchup @generalnesta (If you want to be added or removed please let me know)

[im-totally-not-an-alien]

Final Fantasy 7 promts no. 36

1. Cloud is the leader of a notoriously vicious gang called AVALANCHE, who recently has been getting into fights with the mafia family "ShinRa"

The country has been under martial law for decades now and the current head, Sephiroth has decided to take action against organized crime.

Featuring Reeve and Cait Sith as the main protagonists, Cloud being even more badass than usual, Sephiroth trying to help, and both Rufus and Sephiroth crushing on Cloud. Though...Rufus is coming on a bit too strong.

2. People keep sending Cloud flowers and he doesn't know what to do with them, so now Tifa is mad cause there's entire bouquets of flowers all over Seventh Heaven, but Cloud can't do anything since his little cottage is stuffed with 'em too!

3. How would Cloud react to being hunted by AVALANCHE? How would that even come about?

4. Au where AVALANCHE never forgave Cloud for handing over the black materia, instead telling him to leave and not come back.

He lives as a wanderer, never staying long in any town or province. He knows he's the reason Sephiroth is able to keep reviving, but refuses to die. Dying would make Zacks sacrifice pointless, which Cloud simply won't allow.

Unfortunately, there are many who disagree. What will happen when they discover he's still alive?

5. Cloud and Tifa have a domestic dispute, Aka Tifa demands that Cloud stop traveling to work through his issues with her, (his PTSD and survival guilt), but Cloud refuses, stating that everytime he stayed in one place for too long he had suffered for it. He gets anxious and restless if he doesn't travel often.. Tifa refuses to budge and Cloud can't take the constant arguments. So he breaks up with her, stating that they just wanted two different things.

Tifa, possibly without thinking, began using Denzel and leverage and guilt trips...which eventually escalated to Cloud asking Denzel if he wanted to travel with him for the next few years.

Denzel, of course, happily agreed and packed his stuff. They were long gone by the time Tifa returned.

6. SOLDIER as aliens

7. Au where Jenova rules over a planet filled with her SOLDIER sons. One day, when approaching the next planet they intended to ravage, the alert of an incoming announcement echoed through the air. They all dropped to thier knees, waiting to hear thier mothers kind words, but instead of her likeness filling the dark air of the night sky they saw thier older brother Sephiroth. The silverette looked pannicked as he told them the grim news.

Thier mother was missing.

Cloud Strife, the runt of the litter, and one of the youngest of the winged children at only fourteen, snuck out, intending to invade the planet on his own and demand back thier mother, who he's convinced they'd taken.

He hotwired and stole a recon vessel only to be caught by the oldest of thier siblings, Genesis Rhapsodos, who seemed highly amused by the situation.

Now it's up to Genesis and Cloud to find thier mother before the SOLDIERs rip eachother apart in thier mothers absence.

The remnants are eight year olds in this, Sephiroth is sane and a good brother, Cloud is both a dumbass and a badass, Aerith is full Cetra from the Cetra planet they were going to destroy, humans suck so they don't exist, and Jenova is evil and manipulative.

8. AC Cloud falls asleep thinking about his childhood and wakes up with a toddler/child version of himself in his arms. Appearently he's capable of "self replication" or "asexual reproduction", which seem to be fancy terms for cloning.

9. Cloud flips a switch on Fenrir and solar panels pop out to recharge his bike.

Reeve wipes a tear from his eye while whispering to himself, "That's my boy."

10. A drunken argument about who Clouds father is

11. Jenova had attacked a large planet, much larger than Gaia and failed. She floated through space, drifting aimlessly while wallowing in agony.

The planet before had been too powerful and managed to maim her, tearing her flesh into the bloody ribbons that bobbed beside her. In a flash on inspiration and cunning, she snatched up one of those ribbons, and with her many arms she began molding it. She used bits of her anger and arrogance to mold its soul, her envy and wit for its mind, and last but not least she used her will and dark magic to give him strength.

She stared down at her creation as it physically took form.

"You are my first born," she crooned, "My new life. My new Genesis."

Aka Jenova Au where she creates SOLDIERS from parts of herself as she slowly dies as a big final Fuck You to the universe

12. Cloud finally gets his wing, unfortunately it pops out at the worst moments.

13. Number 12 but the wing also yeets him into different dimensions and he stays there for about a week for...reasons

14. Everyone has a pet monster. It hatches from an egg that spontaneously appears when the owner turns fourteen, and is said to be born of that persons spirit.

Zacks is a cactaur, Hojo's is a tonberry, but Clouds...Clouds is a baby Nebil dragon. Which is a problem because its gonna...ya know. Grow.

Also, it bit Sephiroth.

15. Sephiroth isn't Sephiroth.

Hear me out.

_________________________________________

Sephiroth wasn't the same after Nibelheim, which was obvious to anyone who knew him. He didn't react to inside jokes he was privey to or seem to recognize spaces or things he used to interact with daily.

Cloud never really thought about it. He never really cared, that was, until this nutcase scientist managed to capture him. She raved about how amazing Cloud was and how Hojo was a fool for not realizing/

The blond had no idea what she was talking about till she suddenly spouted, "He's not real! None of it is!"

Cloud stared at her, gobsmacked. She couldn't be serious.

"It was never Sephiroth! It was you!"

Now he was really confused.

"It was always you! It's your energy that radiates off Midgar! It's your magic signature that matched with Meteors! It's your power that has called forth Sephiroth! You were never the puppet!"

Cloud felt sick, and he felt worse with each exclamation she made. Everything made so much sense now. Too much almost. "No." He shook his head, denying what he now knew was true. All those towns. All thos people. Families ripped apart...because of him?

Reverse puppet Au or Puppet Sephiroth

[mizjoely]

Sherlolly Pushing Daisies AU

“So...John. He’s your person, then?”

Sherlock tilted his head, wrinkled his brow, and tried to be as polite as possible when he answered (after all, he still needed this woman’s cooperation if he wanted access to the bodies he needed when Lestrade wasn’t with him). “Sorry, I don’t actually have...people. Not in the way you’re implying. And definitely not John, he would be very, well, insulted if you thought we were...”

“No, no, that’s not what I - well, I mean, it sort of is, I guess, because I have been wondering but that’s none of my business.” Molly blushed as she stumbled on. “What I meant was...he’s your person. The one you...saved.” The last word was spoken in a hushed whisper even though there was no one in the morgue but the two of them.

Sherlock shook his head. “No, I’m afraid you’ve got it backwards,” he said easily. “He’s the one who saved me, actually. More than once.” And in more than one way, Sherlock thought.

Molly huffed impatiently. “No, that’s not what I meant! I mean, that’s great, I knew you two had a real bond even though you always pick...uh, even though you two joke a lot,” she hastily backtracked, “but what I meant was...He’s the one you saved by...oh, bollocks! Look, let me just...”

And she snapped off her glove, pulled down the sheet covering Mr. Albert Simpson, 42, murdered by a shotgun blast to the chest...and did the most extraordinary thing Sherlock had ever seen.

Well, at least it was extraordinary seeing someone else do it. In mounting disbelief (and was that excitement? hope? joy?) he watched as Molly Hooper, Specialty Registrar at St. Barts Hospital, the woman he flattered and charmed into allowing him access to the morgue even without DI Lestrade by his side, placed her index finger on the forehead of the body he’d come to examine...and with that touch, brought Mr. Simpson back to life.

Simpson lurched up into a sitting position. “Hello!” he exclaimed. “Who are you? Where am I?” When Molly pointed mutely to his chest, he looked down, and his face fell. “Bollocks,” he said. “That bastard killed me, didn’t he?”

“Which bastard?” Sherlock interrupted quickly. No point in wasting time, especially since neither he nor Molly (Molly! Molly Hooper! Someone else like him!) had started the one minute timer - or did she need a timer? Was she perhaps not limited to that single minute of reanimation that plagued his particular gift?

All questions that would have to wait - but only until after Mr. Simpson answered the question he’d asked. Oh, he’d already deduced it was the half-brother, but it never hurt to have confirmation directly from the source.

“Elwood,” Simpson replied. As expected. “That bloody bastard - well, technically I’m the bastard, but I told him I wasn’t interested in our father’s money! I just wanted to have a family, to be his brother, and instead the wanker just up and shoots me - I’ll bet he tried to make it look like a hunting accident, didn’t he!”

Molly nodded sympathetically while Sherlock just rolled his eyes. “He did,” she siad softly, placing her still-gloved hand over that of the victim. “But we’ll make sure he doesn’t get away with it, won’t we Sherlock?”

“Er, yes, of course, justice will be served,” Sherlock replied after a slight pause as he adjusted to the fact that Molly was consoling Simpson and asking him to back her up. 

Simpson beamed at Molly. “Great, thanks, both of you! I’ll rest easier knowing...”

Before he could finish speaking, Molly reached out with her ungloved hand and gently touched him on the neck.

Simpson collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Molly pulled her discarded glove back on her hand (not without a bit of a struggle that was actually kind of...adorable?) then expertly rearranged the once-again inanimate corpse onto the trolley, covered it up, and pushed the shelf back into the drawer.

Once she’d resecured the metal door, she stripped off the gloves, balling them inside one another, and placed them into the disposal bin before turning once again to face him. “So,” she said, after taking a deep breath. “He’s your person?”

Sherlock nodded dumbly. “He died saving my life. It was the least I could do, bringing him back. And since the only other person in the proximity was the murderer, I had no compunctions about leaving John alive.”

Molly nodded. “I thought it must be something like that. For me, it was my father.” She smiled wistfully. “He’s living in Australia now. We decided it would be best if the temptation to, to hug or kiss each other on the cheek - well, we came close a couple of times because that’s what you do, right? You hug your father, he kisses you on the cheek, and well, that’s how my mother...”

“She was your first?” Molly nodded. “Mine was my best friend Victor Trevor. We were eight.” Sherlock realized he was telling Molly something that he’d told no one except John Watson, but couldn’t have stopped himself from sharing his story if he tried. He would examine why he felt that way later (and discover that, much to his amazement and dismay, it wasn’t merely that she was the only other person with his ability that he’d ever met). “He’d fallen down a well and drowned, only it turned out my younger sister, Eurus, had actually pushed him down there because she was jealous of our friendship - which,” he added hastily as he perceived Molly’s horrified expression, “is a story for another day. The point is that I jumped into the well when I saw him floating there, and when I touched him, he came back to life...and then he hugged me and suddenly he was dead again.”

Molly’s expression went through a series of transformations as he spoke - so many tiny little emotions, he lost count - but sympathy was there, and sorrow, as she reached out and hesitantly laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, looking up at him through wide brown eyes he’d once dismissed as boring and ordinary. How could he possibly have done so, how could he have not seen how expressive they were?

Without thinking, he leaned down so that his forehead touched hers - and felt a spark, like an electric shock, not dissimilar to how it felt when he reanimated a corpse. He sprang back, horrified at the possibility that their matching abilities might somehow have caused damage, but thankfully Molly was still alive and well, although her eyes were now wide with surprise. “What was that?” she exclaimed.

He grinned. “I don’t know, Molly Hooper, but I can tell you that I’m looking forward to finding out!”

~FIN~

[xhanisai]

AU where Adrien is darker and has less morals

- Similar to how things are in canon but the show would be rated r15 cos of heavy violence >:D - Basically Adrien looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you. Marinette looks like a cinnamon roll and is a cinnamon roll. - During the umbrella scene in Origins, Adrien works out that Marinette is Ladybug. He keeps quiet about it though to respect her privacy and will wait till she's ready to share on her own terms. - Marinette is unaware that Adrien and Chat Noir are the same person whilst Adrien is oblivious to her humongous crush on him. He tries to subtly win her over both as Adrien and as Chat, resulting in Blushinette or Sassinette. - Whenever an Akuma manages to get a hit on Ladybug or any of Chat's friends, he doesn't hesitate to pummel them down vigorously. - Ladybug always has to scold him for being too harsh on the Akumas, constantly reminding him that there's an innocent victim underneath being used as a puppet. - Imagine a scenario: "Goodness Chaton! Just because they gave me a black eye doesn't mean you can go ahead and break their arm or toss them off the Eiffel Tower! Only God would know what would happen if I were to bleed from an itty bitty scratch," "Then that would be the day we find out what Cataclysm does to a person, M'Lady," "...N-Nice joke Chat." "I wasn't joking Ladybug." - Since he already knows, Chat isn't insistent on knowing her identity or asking if they could reveal themselves to each other. - This mad lad is very protective over Marinette in school in his own way. He's infamously known for having eyes that would "burn your soul" if you get on his wrong side - He is sarcastic and sharp with Chloe, especially when he finds out that she made Marinette's school life a nightmare before he and Alya joined. In fact his mumbled threats have Chloe shit scared to come near him or Mari. - Chloe does try to improve as a person but our lovely trio: Alya, Adrien and Nino repels Chloe from coming near Marinette. Our Asian girl is blissfully unaware of this set up, too busy thinking about tonight's patrol with Chat. - Though, Adrien can be really sweet and selfless. When Nino admits that he's crushing on Marinette too despite knowing Adrien is aiming for her, Adrien encourages him to go for her. It killed him inside but Adrien thought that if he can't make Marinette happy, at least she'd be in great hands with Nino (Animan episode). Thankfully, Alya and Nino gets locked in a cage, bonds, and BOOM we have Djwifi~ - Chat Noir's solo patrols is when the beast wakes up. The good people of Paris may see him and Ladybug as a comforting presence but the bad, evil people know how brutal Chat can be. - Chat has broken limbs belonging to thieves, shattered ribs belonging to abusive people, left killers in a near death state. - Adrien feels bad enough that Ladybug is unaware of his actions during the night and the last thing he wants to do is shed unnecessary blood, scaring the heroine. - Plagg fully supports Adrien's actions as he's chaotic neutral "Listen kid, this is why the power of Destruction, us, serve as a counterpart to the power of Creation. We exist to show that mercy is a luxury and the consequences that befalls on the people that take advantage of kindness. Ladybug may turn the other cheek and forgive; we fight fire with with fire. We will take away life if necessary. So don't feel guilty at all." "Thanks Plagg...I just want to keep Paris...and my Marinette safe no matter what. I'd do anything. Everything." - (See the parallels between Adrien and Gabriel here~? ;D) - Hawkmoth/Gabriel is very intimidated by Chat Noir and Adrien also managed to scare him a few times. - When Ladybug contacted Chat Noir to protect Marinette whilst she plays as bait and goes on the date with Evillustrator, he cataclysmed Chloe's balcony to dust in rage for her recklessness. - During Horrificator, Chloe didn't interrupt the kiss between Marinette and Adrien; she stood there gawking. Adrien was a smitten kitten, full on kissed Marinette that Nino and Alya had to shout their names so that they pulled apart. - "Girl, you're one of the most smartest people out there yet you can't grasp the fact that Mini Agreste is head over heels for you???" "Alya-aaa! You're just saying that to make me feel hopeful..." "He. Made. Out. With. You. For. Ages. On. That. Film. We. Did." "Cos it was in the script!" "There was tongue!" "He was making it realistic?" "MON DIEU MARINETTE DUPAIN CHENG! HE WAS LIKE A SATISFIED CAT THAT GOT THE CREAM AFTER THAT DAMMIT!" - Oblivious Marinette is best Marinette. - During the Dark Cupid/Dislocoeur event, after getting hit by an arrow, Chat successfully cataclysmed Ladybug's mask. She pulls him in for a kiss to not only break the spell but also to hide her face. - When Chat regains consciousness, Ladybug found a plastic bag conveniently blowing past, puts it over her head to hide her identity. - The rest of the event goes as canon except Marinette had a plastic bag on her head this whole time. - Tikki finds out that Adrien is both Chat Noir and that he has known Ladybug's identity from the start. She finds that it makes sense with how extra protective he is over her civilian identity and thanks Adrien for keeping Marinette safe at all times as well as being a worthy partner. - A secret group of criminals that are against the heroes, plot the downfall of Ladybug and Chat Noir together. - Chat Noir, having underground links and connections from his feats, catches wind of this. - He's too late and Ladybug gets shot by a special bullet straight after an akuma attack, right in the chest. - Chat Noir cataclysms every single criminal that was part of the organisation into rotting corpses in pure rage. Hawkmoth tries to akumatise him but Chat cataclysms the butterfly too into dust. - Marinette luckily survives thanks to the hospital receiving her so quickly. She was born with Dextrocardia with Situs Inversus (which means that her heart is on the right side rather than the left). If her heart was in the normal position, she would have died. - Adrien doesn't leave her side during the day and Chat Noir during the night. Marinette has no recollection of the incident she got shot. - When Lila comes along, Adrien knew she was trouble and a liar from the start. He had the urge to cataclysm the whole school as they bought into Lila's lies without any questioning. Plagg almost encouraged him. - Adrien took the opportunity to mess with Lila. "I am Volpina. A hero much, much better and stronger than Ladybug. This is my miraculous," "Hehe...Lila, Lila, oh Lila... showing me your precious miraculous is a huge mistake. If you don't want a first hand view of a fox getting skinned alive, you will listen to I, Hawkmoth, and hand over your miraculous to me." - Lila literally runs off, scared shitless, shouting that she was joking and that Volpina doesn't exist. - Marinette overhears everything and has a crisis. "OH NO TIKKI WHAT DO I DO!? THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS THE ENEMY OF PARIS AND ICANTFIGHTHIMWHAAAAT!?" - It takes Tikki 15 minutes to calm Marinette down and promise that Adrien isn't Hawkmoth. Said kwami swears internally to teach both Plagg and Adrien a lesson for riling Mari up to this level. - Adrien overhears Marinette's freakout cos he's literally 6 feet away and both he and Plagg are wearing shit eating grins. "Ah, so the stammering and shyness makes sense now. Love of her life hmmm? I love the sound of that~" "Keep your whiskers on kitten and run before Tikki throttles me for letting you go too far with that joke!" "Aww... but I wanna ask Marinette for a little kiss," "YOU WILL CAUSE THE LITTLE BUG TO COMBUST AND DIE AND BOOM PARIS IS A GONER!"

My artworks for this AU:

(x) - Doodles

(x) - Horrificator kiss 

(x) - Mini Comic

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 4, deadly life (Part 2)

Note of the author: fun fact- this trial was the hardest to put in place but hoo boy I don’t regret any of it.

Chapter 4: Dance, dance, hanged puppets - Deadly life

...

Monokuma explained once again the rules of the trial.

Shuichi was starting to get more and more annoyed every time the robotic bear opened his mouth.

Once he was done, Rantaro turned to him. "Are we going to ignore the fact that you are the one who killed Tsumugi and that there shouldn't even be a trial in the first place?"

"Sheesh, you're persistent, aren't you?" Monokuma pouted. "I thought I made myself quite clear! Someone is responsible for Tsumugi Shirogane's death! And you have to find the blackened, just like in each trial!"

“Only the person who does the final blow is the blackened.” the medic quoted. "Those are the words you said last time. How should that be any different here?"

The bear groaned. "There is someone blackened here! Sheesh! Just investigate already! If you don't, I'm executing all of you!"

Was Rantaro trying to get some information out of him?

He fell silent.

"Although he raises a good point." Kirumi continued. "Even if this was somehow a murder, you still executed her. We cannot investigate a case if the killer is the judge."

Kokichi pondered. "Perhaps... He's hinting at the fact that someone wanted Tsumugi dead?"

Ryoma turned to him. "Whether someone wanted a person to be dead or not, facts cannot be changed. Tsumugi was executed. And as far as I know, Monokuma didn't make any trials after Tenko's, Maki's and Angie's executions."

"But still..." Shuichi muttered. "Why would Monokuma organize a trial if he executed Tsumugi?"

Kiyo glanced at the bear. "That is quite the change of pattern. I thought you were adamant about your rules. And yet you broke them."

His response was a laugh. "Puhuhu! That's quite the assumption you're making! I still follow my own rules, mind you!"

"Following your own rules...?" Shuichi unconsciously repeated. "How can you still be following your rules here?"

Kirumi nodded. "I had taken a look at the rules earlier. And I quote rule number 9 'Monokuma will never directly participate in a murder.' Which is what you did."

Kaito put his hands on his podium. "How about that! You broke your own rules! Admit it!"

Monokuma went silent.

Did they finally-

"Wrong!"

It was too good to be true.

"I absolutely did not break my rules! Get that in your tiny little meat heads!"

"You fucking-"

Ryoma sighed, interrupting Kaito's incoming rant. "If we continue like this, we'll get nothing done."

"Well, we have to know why Monokuma wants us to solve a murder that is clearly not one." Kirumi waved a hand.

Shuichi checked back the rule.

'Monokuma will never directly participate in a murder.'

Since this is Monokuma they're talking about, there must have been a way for him to find a loophole in this rule.

Come on... Think!

...

Perhaps...

"What if... Monokuma considers himself not to have directly participated in the murder?" he suggested.

Miu frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I-I don't know but..." he replied. "That must be what he is talking about, right?"

"You mean Monokuma only being the indirect cause of the murder?" Kiyo raised an eyebrow.

"That's the only thing that fits. But that doesn't make any sense." Ryoma frowned.

Miu slammed her hands on her podium. "Slow down. How the fuck could Monokuma be the indirect cause of the murder?? He executed Tsumugi, didn't he? That's an execution, still not a murder!"

"Well, do you have any other idea of what this is all about?" Kirumi asked.

The street artist fell silent. "I... I don't, but still..."

Rantaro's eyes were scanning the monopad. "The Monokuma file says that Tsumugi died from an execution. No matter how I look at it, Monokuma is the culprit."

"And yet that's not the answer he wants..." Kokichi muttered.

Could something be implied in the Monokuma file that they overlooked?

In every single case, Monokuma was listing the major points. The time of death, the place of the body discovery, the murder weapon, and the potential injuries, even though Rantaro was always double-checking everything.

Here, it specified the time of death, the place of the body discovery, and...

"Hm?" Shuichi looked at the last line again.

Died from an execution.

This meant more like the way Tsumugi died, but... They were still looking for a blackened who supposedly killed Tsumugi.

...

No, that couldn't be it, could it?

"Hey... I know this sounds crazy but..." he started.

The others turned to him.

"What if... The execution was not the way she died but rather... The murder weapon itself?"

Kaito raised a hand. "Hold up, what?"

"Well... In all Monokuma files, we had the basic info so I was thinking... Perhaps the killer planned things to make an execution happen?" he explained.

"... And thus Monokuma would be the murder weapon itself, and not the killer." Rantaro concluded.

The others fell silent. Shuichi thought his theory was too crazy to be true but glancing at Monokuma, the way he was grinning at the scene...

He was right.

Someone used him as a weapon.

"That's... That's insane..." Miu muttered.

Kiyo narrowed his eye. "Which means someone went out of their way to make Tsumugi's execution happen, and why Monokuma considers it a murder."

"Someone planned an execution? But... How?" Kokichi asked.

Shuichi looked at the rules to see if they were still available. He had checked them earlier, and they were clear.

The only requirement for them to stay alive was to pass the key on their locks two times a day, during specific intervals of time. Seven hours to do so, or else an execution was waiting for them.

The killer used that rule to their advantage and forced the prodigy to break it.

"I think... Whoever did this arranged things to make sure Tsumugi couldn't get her lock in time. That way, she would be executed... That's what I think."

Rantaro nodded. "That sounds more than plausible but there are so many things wrong here."

"What do you mean?" Ryoma frowned.

"Well..." the medic started. "First off, supposing they really did make sure an execution would happen, that could mean Tsumugi was not necessarily the target."

Kokichi perked up. "You think the killer left it to chance? Or-" he stiffened. "...Karma?"

Kirumi rolled a strand of hair around her finger. "Before making assumptions, let's at least try to understand their method."

"Right..." Shuichi muttered.

"Perhaps it should be better to take it from the beginning." Kiyo suggested. "It will help us grasp the situation."

The violinist nodded.

"Supposing the killer planned everything by wasting time, there are several possibilities for what happened." Rantaro pondered.

Ryoma crossed his arms. "If the killer wanted to force one of us not to activate their lock, they should have known about their placements. Which is unlikely."

"The locks were spread throughout the entire academy, but on the main spots and buildings, from what I've seen. It could be possible to know everyone's placements, but still very difficult." Kirumi continued.

Looking at things this way, it seemed unlikely that Tsumugi was really the target.

And yet, her words echoed a thousand times through his head.

"I knew the mastermind was coming for me anyway."

She was far from stupid. Her intelligence was her ultimate talent after all.

That didn't sound like Tsumugi wasn't the target.

But if the killer was the mastermind, why organize a trial for themselves when they could have gotten away with it?

The rules already stated that the game would continue until two students remained.

Nothing made sense. Was Tsumugi wrong to think it was the mastermind? Was it really someone else?

Shuichi shook his head. Focus.

"The killer only needed someone not to be able to activate both of their locks, right? Perhaps they didn't search through the entire academy for this..." he suggested.

Miu pondered. "The main building had most of our locks, it's possible they only searched through here, right?"

"Hold on a second." Kaito interrupted. "Yeah, it had most of them but... What were the odds Tsumugi had both of her locks in here?"

Kokichi seemed to start thinking as well but stayed silent.

"That reinforces the idea that the target could have been anyone." Ryoma added. "As long as one person had both of their locks here, they were doomed."

"Were they?" Kirumi countered.

Shuichi blinked. "What do you mean?"

The mercenary glanced at him. "I will remind you that my lock was in the dining hall. I was able to reach it from outside, but then the entrance to the rest of the building locked itself."

"And where was your other lock?" Kiyo asked.

"My guess was in the game room."

Rantaro fiddled with his necklace. "That throws away the theory that the target could have been anyone, then."

Miu blinked. "Huh?"

"Well..." he continued. "Kirumi could also have been the target for this. But she wasn't."

"But that could also mean the blackened only wanted one target." Kiyo countered.

He made a good point. Which one was it?

"We should look at what the killer did exactly. Perhaps it will give us more clues." the medic suggested.

Miu frowned. "Well, they made sure that Tsumugi couldn't reach her lock in time, right?"

Ryoma sighed. "And here I thought that couldn't be any more obvious."

Kirumi crossed her arms. "Then we're probably thinking about the same thing."

Shuichi thought back at this morning's events.

The main entrance collapsing, the dining hall blocked, the window not opening...

"The blackened probably blocked all main entrances to make sure we couldn't enter, right?"

The young woman nodded. "The academy may have been a nightmare these last few days, but I doubt Monokuma would block all entrances. That looked way too odd."

"That would be against his own rules after all..." Kokichi muttered. "If he made sure that she couldn't access her locks, then he would also be the direct cause of death, not just the weapon."

"So the killer tampered with the entrances to make us waste time entering the building." Kaito noted. "Probably the worst murder method I could possibly think of."

Shuichi perked up at the last sentence.

The murder method...

Why an execution? Why did the killer decide to kill her this way? Was it because in their current situation they were often by groups of two and they couldn't act directly without being caught?

Even then, if the killer was able to tamper with the building, they could have killed her another way, right? The traps were more than enough to kill them. If they just tampered with one, they could have killed anyone this way.

He decided to talk about this. "Hey... Don't you guys think it's strange?"

Ryoma frowned. "Your point being?"

"I mean..." he started, already nervous. "They could have used any murder method... Why going out of their way to make sure Tsumugi gets executed?"

"That raises the second thing I find strange in this." Rantaro raised a hand. "That probably sounds odd but..."

"Did the killer know that this technique would make them the blackened?"

Shuichi's heart skipped a beat. "W-What?"

"Think about it for a sec." he continued. "None of us knew about Monokuma being the murder weapon until the trial. There's a chance they didn't know either."

Miu slammed her hands on her podium. "Now wait a second! Why would anyone try to kill without wanting to escape??"

"Let's calm down for a moment." Kirumi crossed her arms. "There is also the possibility they asked Monokuma beforehand and did all of this to confuse us."

The others turned to the bear.

"Puhuhu... Who knows?"

The violinist rolled his eyes. "So we're not further ahead than before, huh..."

But still...

Was there a reason why they used an execution as a murder weapon? Was it so they could forge an alibi more easily?

But if Rantaro was right, what was the point of killing without the will to escape?

Was it... for fun? Like the mastermind?

Was it to prove a point?

Or perhaps...

Just to stop the motive?

But still... The blackened could have tried to escape in the process.

Shuichi thought back at the previous motives.

Tenko and Gonta prepared their plan as a way to gain more info at the trial and make sure Monokuma doesn't kill them all.

Maki desperately wanted to escape with Kaede, although her plan backfired.

Angie had been consumed by the despair disease and slaughtered Himiko without a sparkle of sanity running through her mind. Escaping wasn't even her main intention.

But here... It felt different. Nothing was clear at all.

Perhaps he should settle with Kirumi's theory. He should stop thinking about it, for now.

Ryoma sighed. "Whatever the motive, we have a blackened to find. Let's get back to the subject already."

"Right..."

"So? The killer obviously made us waste time by tampering with the building!" Kaito waved a hand.

Kirumi pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, but how?"

Rantaro pondered. "The traps were behaving very differently today. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire academy was tampered with."

Kokichi's eyes widened. "T-The entire academy?? I thought we said that they only explored the main building!"

Ryoma started thinking. "If all of the traps were linked to the main building then there's a possibility they tampered inside the building and it orchestrated a chain reaction."

"So the main way to do all of this was by tamp-"

* B O N G *

An extremely loud bell noise echoed through the courtroom, startling everyone.

"What the fuck?" Kaito yelled at Monokuma.

The bear didn't look that impressed. "Hm? Oh, the clock is simply here to tell the time!"

The clock indicated 5:00 PM.

"But hey, it's nice to look at, dontchu think?"

Shuichi preferred to ignore the bear.

"Whatever. Let's just continue." Rantaro rubbed his eyes in exasperation.

"We have to find how the killer pulled out all of this."

[headtothecoast]

jedi!geraskier au

*i am taking lots of liberties with the world of star wars

geralt learned early that he was force sensitive and was taken from his family and placed into kaher morhen - a jedi temple in the beginnings of the foundation of the republic (not the empire and vader this is set way the hell in the past). the training there was rough and force sensitivity was rare. while some were good pilots and others good at combat, geralt preferred combat. he was taught to distance himself emotionally and that by closing himself off from emotions he wouldn’t become a sith.

because the republic was just starting out but kaher morhen has been around for a long time, geralt was often sent on missions across the galaxy to settle disputes. usually, a side would approach the jedi offering why they believed they were right and the jedi would take in the scene and offe aid to those who did the least harm. they made judgements of good and evil amongst men of all species but did not seek power. (like, qui-gon was supposed to protect a princess from invaders, but also made decisions about judging other species and freeing slaves and backed up a slave over a trader so i’m making the jedi like arbiters).

one of geralt first assignments goes poorly to say the least. it was a shitshow. blaviken was a small outpost that had been the center of trade for a region. the locals had had a sort of royalty that had recently seen a conflict and geralt had been asked to go because another jedi was involved and should things come to blows geralt was a skilled fighter. when he arrived he met renfri and liked her, met irion and liked him less by tried to stay impartial. both sides disagreed with the other and geralt was unsure how to choose. before taking his leave one night renfri agreed to surrender the next day, saying she would follow the lead of a neighboring port tridam and not force a jedi to make an ultimatum she could fix. it took geralt several hours to remember that tridam had been an interplanetary incident where a sith had killed the people of a town until a jedi had surrendered. geralt rushed back to town to stop renfri from killing innocents and took out her followers and geralt realized that irion was not a jedi but a sith - his experimentations and obsession had given him away and so even though he was forced to kill renfri he chose to kill stregobor (sith name) and was stoned while leaving the outpost of blaviken. when he returned to explain himself jedi master vesemir wasn’t happy that a sith had been able to exist so long undetected and told geralt what he told many past apprentices, that right and wrong were difficult choices and that geralt needed to trust in the force.

skip forward a while. the republic is slowly building itself and democracy is spreading throughout the inner planets. there are many species of many worlds all that live very different lifetimes. war broke out on geralts home planet rivia. the royal family of oxenfurt was forced to flee and a puppet government took its place, subjugating a lot of the planets people and overall not a good thing.

while geralt was on a mission in posada, seeking the rumors of someone force sensitive to bring them to be trained or killed if sith. what geralt found was jaskier, a bard by the look of him who had an uncanny ability to sing and effect people’s emotions, leading them foot his bills. while geralt contemplated how best to approach the bard he found himself sitting across from him. jaskier tried to put as much force charm into his voice as he could but geralt was uneffected and drew his lightsaber, thinking jaskier to be a sith. jaskier asked him what the hell a sith was and said he was only trying to make his intentions as obvious as possible and be friendly to a newcomer he meant no offense. jaskier, not as in tune with the more physical aspects of the force, had instead found ways to read people’s emotional states and manipulate them to an extent. he hadn’t exactly known he was doing that but geralt could feel his honest intentions through the force and told him he had the force and that he had been sent to collect him and bring him before the jedi at kaher morhen. jaskier thought that sounded amazing and he could get off the godforsaken planet but geralt made him promise not to use his “jedi mind tricks” again until they got to the temple.

so geralt and jaskier traveled back to a space port where jaskier was invited to sing for a gathering of local nobility and he asked geralt to come with him to keep him safe from other men and geralt kinda had to go because he didn’t want to cause a problem but he ends up stepping in and it’s a clusterfuck that ends with the local law of surprise and a headache. (not entirely sure how to describe all the players and role of the force in this without magic so sadly moving on)

all the way back to the temple jaskier annoys geralt and sings about him and isn’t scared of him, he was called the butcher of blaviken and was not a highly respected jedi for a long time but jaskier didn’t seem to care.

when they returned vesemir made geralt a jedi master and jaskier got to make a decision about his training. geralt was chosen to take him as an apprentice and after training him in combat (which he sucked at and was much better at talking himself out of situations) the two set out on a mission to go find jaskier a kyber crystal to build him a lightsaber.

cue montage of geralt being exasperated and jaskier writing songs about him and geralt proclaiming that jedi don’t feel emotions and jaskier raising hell about that because he clearly felt as geralt did, they were from the same planet and surely geralt couldn’t mean that with how much he cared about helping people.

when they finally reach the remote place it is a cave that jaskier insists geralt come with him to help him pick out a crystal. he had questioned geralt about the colors and given that geralts lightsaber was yellow, like his eyes, and the only golden yellow saber he had seen at the temple he questioned him even more.

geralt explained that the gold came from his skill in combat and his strength that he used to protect others (i am going off a lot of interpretations of color none of which are accurate bear with me). bright yellow belonged to the sentinels, but his was almost an orange or brown, which spoke to his strength.

when jaskier went into the cave he came out with a light green almost yellow blade. the sort of blade forged through intrigue and belonged with someone who had skills in the force more than in combat.

but when jaskier was picking his crystal, being surrounded by the force in a way he never had been was overwhelming, he did not have proper restraint of his emotions and could almost taste geralts restraint and frustration and hurt over blaviken and so many pent up emotions. jaskier looked into the force and asked geralt if he wanted peace.

the physical backlash that jaskier faced through pulling the thorn of blaviken out of his mind and preventing it from festering knocked him out cold for several weeks. geralt wanted to be upset but whatever jaskier had done had lifted a burden, he felt more in tune with the force and more in tune with others. the healer, yennifer, noticed this sense of peace in geralt and asked him about it while jaskier slept. the two grew close and yennifer admitted to her own desires over children and inability to find peace like her master wanted.

when jaskier woke he found the two were friends and he tried to apologize to geralt about the whole crystal incident but geralt didn’t seem to mind. he felt a sense of balance and thanked jaskier for it.

meanwhile vesemir heard about the whole thing and decided to take geralts charge and teach him proper control. jaskier wasn’t thrilled but he endured. 2 years he was gone and geralt slowly realized that he had been coasting off the waves of calm and peace jaskier had left him and he had never properly said how thankful he was to not carry that pain with him every day. it felt like being healed.

when jaskier returned he was quieter. geralt didn’t like it one bit. vesemir gave the two an assignment to test jaskiers newfound resolve and slowly, geralt was able to coax out remenants of the man he knew. one day when geralt made jaskier laugh so loud he startled roach (their ride that geralt insisted on using and taking care of and jaskier swears he saw geralt sneaking her treats) jaskier froze and apologized and said he needed time to himself and left camp for a couple hours.

when jaskier didn’t return after a couple hours geralt found him sitting on a rock crying while making another rock float above his hand. it sounded like he was trying and failing to control his breathing and when geralt startled him jaskier dropped the rock but didn’t retract his hand and geralt force caught it but it was a near thing. geralt asked what the hell he thought he was doing and jaskier explained vesemir’s training.

in the cave, what jaskier did could have killed geralt. geralt who vesemir valued and loved like a son and so he taught jaskier control. vesemir would take a fish in water and hold its shape, passing it off to jaskier who would have to hold the shape of the water because if he let go the fish would die. jaskier are fish like other animals out of necessity but he wasn’t cruel. vesemir names every fish geralt until jaskier could keep the shape for hours. he would push through the crying and the shame and make sure the fish stayed alive. then they moved to other animals but jaskier couldn’t bring himself to risk hurting something so he put the rock above his hands so that if he lost control he would be the only one harmed and he had been trying so hard to do as vesemir had instructed to maintain control and balance but jaskier felt miserable and unbalanced and it made geralts heart hurt.

geralt doesn’t mind if jaskier feels everything, every emotion through the force because he doesn’t try to focus on the good or the bad, he feels it all. sith seek pleasure or pain but jaskier laughs and cries in equal measure and above all tries to help so geralt can’t see that as a fault even if vesemir thought what he did was best.

geralt says as much to jaskier and says he will never let someone else hurt him and that he’d missed him because yennifer might be one of the few jedi he’s comfortable talking to since his newfound peace but jaskier had chosen to endure his festering and pain regardless and if geralt had to choose between peace and jaskier he would choose jaskier.

jaskier allows himself to feel true happiness and he and geralt get on and when the mission comes to an end they have found a rhythm. when they return to the temple the jedi can sense their in-tune-ness, their peace and resolve and trust. they take assignments together and occasionally apart and sometimes yennifer joins them but when they work together they feel more connected and alive than ever.

then, cintra falls.

jaskier had taken a solo assignment on a planet geralt can’t remember so he turns to yennifer and the two go and rescue ciri, geralt’s child surprise from the invading army. technically, she is supposed to remain with geralt and under his care but he can feel the force that flows between ciri and yennifer is as strong if not stronger than the force that flows through him and ciri and while he would do anything for her, jaskier hadn’t finished his last mission on time and geralt is worried. yennifer pushes him to go after him and promises to take care of ciri and he believes her. that is when the temple gets news that a member of the royal family of rivia has been found and is being brought for execution. war is stirring on rivia and geralt is sent to stop it, he tried to keep his eyes peeled for jaskier but he knows that he will have to put the lives of millions above the one.

the execution is a public affair and geralt weaves his way through the crowd to get a good look at the member of the royal family that hasn’t been seen in decades. when the doors open and release a woman clothed in rags geralt comes alive not of his own volition, but because he can feel jaskiers presence in the crowd. the woman he realizes seems to be searching the crowd for something and when she sees it bows her head and smiles. it is then that geralt spots jaskier - slicing off the head of the puppet king. jaskier does not look happy so much as determined. geralt springs in to action, preventing the beast from slaying the women and he and the woman have make their way to the top of the stadium to join jaskier.

jaskier announces to the crowd that the queen and prince of rivia are home and that effective immediately all those who had been enslaved under the new regime are to be freed or face the jedi prince jaskier themselves.

geralt is stunned and jaskier leads him and his mother away from the stadium and back to the old palace where jaskier remembered growing up. there he finds people who remember him and his mother and will take care of her until he has dealt with the other dissidents in his kingdom and leads geralt somewhere private.

geralt has been silent the whole time and jaskier forces himself not to ramble but for geralt to please say something anything. and geralt asks why he didn’t tell him. jaskier says it was to protect his mother. shortly after leaving the planet his father had been killed and it was just him and his mom fending for themselves and when geralt had spotted him in posada it was because he was trying to throw puppet government goons off his moms trail and lure them away. it worked but not forever.

geralt asked him how it was possible to hide such a thing from him in the force and jaskier holds geralts hand and lets the entirety of the force flow through the both of them. geralt can feel the strength of it and is staggered. jaskier explains that he had some measure of control because if he didn’t he would have torn the world apart in grief only to reassemble it in euphoria and his mom had taught him how to shelter certain thoughts but the experience in the cave had heightened everything, including his ability to shield the single secret in the force. his mom shielded herself and jaskier promised he would do the same.

jaskier apologizes and tells geralt that it wasn’t his intention to hurt him but he couldn’t expose his mom and suddenly geralt is holding jaskier and jaskier is crying. geralt tells him that it’ll be okay and that he was hurt but he understands and geralt, after having felt the strength of jaskiers emotions tried to project his own emotions through the force to him, of calm and protection and jaskier gasps and pushed back and suddenly geralt is kissing him because jaskier was absolutely radiating love through the force and it was the freest he’d ever felt.

sure they would have to explain some things to the jedi council, and when jaskiers mother passed and left him the thrown there would be more problems than solutions on their plate, but geralt promised he would protect jaskier at all costs and he’d fight the whole galaxy if he had to to keep this man in his arms.

*okay so i haven’t seen the new star wars movies and do i really know how the force works? no. do i care? no. i know that jedi have a weird relationship to emotions, and that sith use the force for personal gain and that strong emotions *cough* anakin *cough* are said to lead to the dark side but like,,, i don’t care.

**yennifer has a purple lightsaber for moral ambiguity and ciri is blue for justice and protection. i chose gold for geralt because it was strength and skill and while i believe he has qualities of blue, it also matched his eyes which was a good benefit. jaskier felt like a mix of colors also so i chose green and feel free to disagree because again, i don’t know a whole lot about star wars cannon because it is almost as confusing as witcher cannon (timeline anyone?)

***i couldn’t think of a solid characterization for yennifer or world building place for roach, sorry they’re shaky. also - i don’t hate vesemir or anything i just think he would be over protective and i needed a way to show jaskier change i love all the witchers and if i really wanted to make thing l o n g e r i could have included eskel and lambert and everything but it already felt long so like, they are missing (from this head cannon/almost fic) but not forgotten.

finally, if you want to write this as a fic or run with the idea or just like, i really don’t care please do! tag me in anything you think would be related or something idk this got really long and i don’t know how to end it but it was fun writing it.

[monsterquest]

A Secret Light, A Sacred Fire

I would like to present to you my not-at-all new Maul/Qi’ra fic that I am currently writing. Both as an introduction to a ship that I adore and my writing, which I hope to share more of in the future.  Long story short, this is a fix-it AU which immediately follows the events of Solo: A Star Wars Story and my intention was to give both Maul and Qi’ra a chance to pick a different path and find the belonging they have longed for. I’m not here to subvert expectations. 

Rating: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ~nsfw  Current Length: 7/? Chapters (ca 37K words)

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Chapter 1

Qi'ra paced nervously in her quarters, every once in a while glancing out of the viewport. She was no more sure of her fate now than she was when the gates of the checkpoint had slammed in her face on Corellia.

"Han..." she thought, her mind spelling out the name as her thoughts wandered back to him. She sincerely hoped he would be okay.

"As long as he's got Chewie with him, he will be," she found a way to quiet her concerns somewhat.

It was strange to have crossed paths with him again after all this time, especially given the way those three years inbetween had changed her. She had fallen back to the embrace of her past feelings for a moment or two, but had soon sensed a disconnection. What he resurfaced in her was no longer true to how she really felt. He was still the same, that sweet Han that she had fallen for. But she was no longer the same woman. And to him, whom she had become, that woman had gone unnoticed. There was nothing left to hold on to, for his reaction to her was to a memory.

There was no future in the cards for them, and wishful thinking wouldn't change that. Han was still much like the boy she'd known – daring, optimistic, exciting and pulsating with a sincere and magnetic warmth. Something far more precious than anything a smuggler should be. Despite his charm, he remained simultaneously impatient and in the long run fickle and unreliable.

Qi'ra had changed in the span of that time, having grown from a street-smart Corellian brat to a woman determined to survive the many moods and whims of the men who saw themselves in charge of her fate. It was easier to succeed in this when she was able to conceal her vulnerabilities, as one needen't look far for someone eager to exploit such attachment.

Under a restrained facade lay a heavy heart, aware of the hurt she had herself caused, a heart longing to feel the freedom to choose for herself and for the love of someone who saw beneath the many faces she had assumed for others.

Inside, she had never let her fate snuff out the light of hope, but it was a secret fire, a sacred fire, and she alone was its keeper.

Even after all that had been said and done, she regarded Han as a friend. Always. He may have been reckless, but that was a luxury she would not afford herself. Not knowing the fate awaiting her, she would not condemn him to it. At least one of them had to get out of this mess alive. Otherwise, what would the struggle and all those losses have amounted to if neither found true freedom?

She shut her eyes in an attempt to keep back the tears that were now welling up.

"Chewie, please keep him safe," she whispered to herself.

Looking out of the viewport again, Savareen was now but a bright orb in the distance, and First Light was getting ready to make the jump into hyperspace. It would be a long journey – Dathomir lay all the way across the Galaxy, on the other side of the Core Worlds in the Quelli sector, about a day's travel past Mandalore.

*

Nearly ten days had passed when the star yacht finally dropped out of hyperspace and started its agonizing descent on Dathomir. From above, the planet looked anything but inhabitable, its ominous red glow sending out a warning to anyone that might have strayed there, only emphasized now when the crimson light of its central star penetrated the atmosphere at an angle that made it appear ablaze in a wildfire.

In her mind, Qi'ra kept editing the version of the events she wanted to present to her true master. Her betrayal of Dryden would not remain secret for long and, for all she knew, the news would likely reach him long before she did.

Crimson Dawn's operations were spreading far and wide across the galaxy. She herself had worked diligently to ensure this and make herself hard to replace. Once she had earned her position as Dryden's second in command, the latter had found himself forced to include her in the secret meetings he had with Maul. That is how she'd first learned his identity, and simultaneously found out how Dryden had reached out to him from onboard the yacht.

Her role had remained entirely passive in his presence until a few standard weeks ago. Maul had contacted her directly while Dryden had conveniently been away. He had insisted that Qi'ra report directly to him on any and all peculiarities that stood out in Dryden's dealings. The direct request to spy on her superior had come as no small surprise, but she'd known better than to analyze its significance in too much depth, for she was aware how tempting it was to overestimate it and just how grave the consequences could be. Yet, something about it wouldn't let her feel at ease.

Vos might have only been a business front for the syndicate, but the image he had built mattered a great deal. It had been carefully crafted and curated. Even as a puppet only executing orders he had received from above, Dryden was not one to be easily replaced. However illicit and shady the dealings the business relationships relied not only on fear, but required trust. Regardless of its frailty, that trust had taken time and effort to build.

By killing Vos, she had not only betrayed her commander, but undermined Crimson Dawn at large. That remained true regardless of the motivations behind Maul's request. She had pried the ring from Dryden's lifeless finger, and by doing so she had also made a choice from which there was no turning back.

And now she had come here to answer for all of it.

*

Every minute seemed like an uncomfortable eternity as First Light glided towards its destination. What had appeared as a flaming red orb in the vast darkness of space now had distinct continents. It wasn't long before she could already make out the terrain – alternating between lush vegetation, swamplands chasing the horizon, mountain ranges that bulked up like jagged teeth, lined up on open jaws, awaiting its prey.

Soon the craft dropped altitude, moving over the sharp peaks like a knife cutting through air. It was barely an hour past high noon, but nothing broke the red twilight reigning here. Qi'ra spotted a series of overgrown ruins, and a heaviness set into her limbs as she took in the sight. This had nothing to do with her own fate, and everything to do with the fate of Dathomir. This world itself was in mourning, and no sign of life could be found in this half-light. Something about the destruction dealt here felt so final to her. She was vaguely aware of a massacre that took place here – courtesy of the separatists – but what she saw now was the destruction of a whole people, their world and a way of life.

Her eyes rose from the ruins to meet her destination in the distance. A peak rising from the surrounding forest, casting an ominous shadow against the red sky.

"This must be it," she thought and struggled to exhale steadily.

There was nothing resembling a landing pad in sight, but she took it she had arrived in the right place when she sighted another few ships at the foot of the mountain. As the yacht approached she noticed a few guards here and there, droids scuttling about, moving cargo.

The extravagantly decorated starcraft touched down with elegant ease, barely making a sound. The effortlessness of the landing was in no way reflected in how Qi'ra felt about her arrival, but there was no going back now. She knew that she had her own part in the forging of whatever fate she had come to greet here. Any hesitation would only give away her reason for concern. Gathering her courage and trying to steady her heart, she made it to the elevator.

She walked down the ramp in cautious steps and looked up, to take in the sight. Barely registering the rest of the surroundings she felt something pulling her straight towards the massive body of rock, as if it were the center of gravity.

A facade was carved into this side of the mountain. A row of massive pillars in the shapes of women, supporting the overhanging rock above, and between them a massive stone face, its gaping mouth forming an entrance.

Upon a quick glance, there didn't seem to be anyone with the intent of engaging her. That wasn't perhaps the welcome she had expected, but a far more promising start than any of the scenarios for which she had been prepared. She felt her experience caution her all the more because of it, and the blasters hanging from her hips felt more decorative than anything as she took her first steps into the darkness.

The coldness of the air hit her suddenly as she entered the tunnel. The instincts she had tried to quieten were heightened.

"Don't you dare lose your nerve now," she muttered as she braced herself.

The light was minimal, coming from a source she could not quite determine. Her steps cautious and light, she placed one foot in front of the other so many times that she stopped paying attention to her movements or whether anyone had heard her walking. She focused entirely on scaling the darkness, rushing towards her destination. She rounded one more bend, and of a sudden there it was.

Her blue eyes took in this world within a world, lit by a glow of the same hue. She was paralyzed by the sight, weighed down by the heaviness in her chest and tugged by the invisible force that had led her down there.

The enormity of the cave was hard to gauge, expanding beyond her sight into the unknown. The tunnel had opened up to a bridge connecting it with the first of what seemed to be massive columns, broader at the base with enough room on the slopes to be built on. And so, each of those pillars was circled by three or more levels of structures, carved from the same stone comprising houses, temples and galleries, stairs, bridges and balconies all lined with lanterns unlit. The only light remaining now was that of the iridescent water, moving slowly in the glowing pools, falling in narrow streams from the darkness above, evoking eternity.

And that's when she saw him. A dark shadow outlined against the light of the water, standing in complete stillness on a leveled mass of rock in the middle of the cave. Deep in thought, with his head down and hands joined behind his back, the figure remained seemingly undisturbed by her approach as she made her way towards him with quiet resolve.

*

Something in the Force kept prodding at Maul, telling him to come back to the present, but his eyes remained transfixed on the iridescent pool. Whether it was some lingering remnant of Nightsister magic or the oppressing weight of everything that he hadn't yet figured out, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the water. The persistent motion seemed to him like the last bit of life left here in the wake of the massacre.

His mind was clearer now than it had been for a very long time, but he couldn't completely fight the hypnotic effect that only grew more potent the longer his gaze held it. A moment grew into several, becoming a while, growing longer. The water was like a conduit of dark energies with a will of its own, locking his mind into a downward spiral.

Whether or not he could admit it, he was still hoping to find meaning, a place, a belonging, something that would be his own, and not handed to him by any master. The thought left a bitterness on his tongue. He had believed that coming to this place one more time would show him his path. Instead, what he found was a world sunk into ruin, much like he was, reminding him everything from which he had hoped to escape.

He felt a growing irritation erupting at the thought that there was something that both he and the water had in common, both giving the apparent sense of movement when remaining stagnant. The longer he looked at it, the emptier he felt. Perhaps he too was just a dead thing, his body moving with no life left inside.

Realizing he would not find any answers here, his mind began to clear just as he sensed something else intruding into his awareness. He had detected a signature of fear without having to make any effort to read the presence, and knew instinctively whom it was. He could feel it before she'd exited her ship, but it was mixed with something else. She had not come to apologize or to beg. The woman's presence in the Force was like an electric breeze vibrating through him now that she was so close. He snapped back into the moment. She was here.

*

Qi'ra was already crossing the last bridge when the shadowy form slowly turned around and moved forward to meet her. There was something reflexive rising to the surface in response to Maul approaching her. Despite being expected, despite external composure and a certain awareness of what to expect of him, she had to will her legs forward.

Once she had locked her eyes onto the advancing figure, she couldn't remove them, in the same breath realizing the source of the pull. The dark form grew more distinct with each step she advanced, until she could make out the solid frame of a warrior, draped in black.

She had seen him before in holographic form, but true sight of him still came as a surprise.

The bluish glow of the surrounding water outlined a crown of sharp horns above strong cheekbones and a defined jawline, all of his features emphasized by the symmetrical tattoos covering his face, and–

But most striking of all were his eyes, flaming in amber tones. Much like his home planet, they glowed as if lit from within.

Finally standing before him, she bowed cautiously, a gesture Maul returned to her surprise. The Zabrak's expression was impossible to read with certainty, but he was struggling to hide the ongoing conflict below the surface. It seemed as if he was himself unsure how this would unfold.

To her surprise, what she saw in the eyes of the man looking down at her was neither anger nor accusation. More than anything else, it was an all-encompassing tiredness, mixed with something else she couldn't quite fathom. He was looking at her as if trying to find an answer to a question far more complex than simply inquiring about her guilt.

Qi'ra found her eyes drawn away from his unexpected gaze, making their way down across all the places where red skin met black, until they came to a halt on his chest where the golden gleam of the familiar Crimson Dawn emblem hung. No further thought fully formed before the sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Qi'ra," she heard her name ring in a voice far too soft and mellow for someone this dangerous. This put her more on the defensive.

"Lord Maul–" she started, but found herself all out of ideas.

Suddenly she was unsure if she should remain as silent or seize the first opportunity to start justifying herself. Somehow neither felt like it would increase her chances of redeeming the fact that the public face of the syndicate was now orbiting Savareen among various other kinds of space trash.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” he said casually, putting an end to her inner monologue.

“Oh. I wasn’t there when it happened. So I wasn't really in harm's way,” Qi'ra prevaricated, regretting it instantly.

Maul gave her a look that let her know just how obvious the lie had been, equally irritated and amused, but there was something else in his expression too that she could not decipher.

“Save it for someone who doesn't have such easy access to your thoughts," he said in a dismissive tone.

"I trained him myself, in Teräs Käsi. You either surpass all expectations or were just lucky to beat him in combat."

The man's face resumed its unreadable expression.

"In any case, you are here now. That is... a relief.” His last words stretched out, as if to emphasize their generosity.

“A relief?! I–” she couldn’t hide her surprise.

Qi'ra was stunned by his overall lack of concern for Dryden's death, her role in it and her subsequent ill-advised attempt to lie about it. This was definitely not one of the scenarios that she had played through in her head.

“But... I don’t understand. You know I killed him, but you act as if I have done you a favor?”

"You did," Maul replied with resolve, furrowing his brow.

"There is a reason I contacted you directly, which I'm sure you've realized by now," Maul's tone sounding as if he was trying to distance himself somehow. He looked over her shoulder briefly, before setting his eyes back on her.

"Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you," he replied to the question he read on Qi'ra's face. His tone was growing impatient, while his eyes retained some inexplicable understanding.

"I'm–" she began, but stopped herself as she caught his look.

"You know exactly what he was like," he continued, while turning to the water again.

"He was clever, I'll give him that. But even that came second to his greed and thirst for power. The sycophancy, it was only feigned, allowing him to move closer to real power – or so he thought – in his hubris believing that his true motivations would go unnoticed as long as he played his role and remained agreeable with me."

The corners of his mouth curled into a snarl at the thought.

"He may have been the face of the operation, but he was a greedy fool, arrogantly believing that he would be so easily trusted, in return for ass-kissing."

The Zabrak's face contorted into a grimace that was split between a smirk and heartfelt disgust.

"In time he only grew bolder, but not a single one of his indiscretions remained a secret to me. I also have you to thank. You may have betrayed him, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you have betrayed me."

Qi'ra was unable to look at him, but she could feel him fixed on her.

"I trust you will make better decisions in the future," he concluded.

*

Maul felt mighty foolish, registering just how out of the norm this was for him, a fact he took no comfort in. Not at the idea that he'd allow someone to prove their worth and loyalty, but that he hadn't even properly considered the risks such a chance would entail and whether it was really worth his gamble.

He was trying to remember what exactly had led him to believe that this was a good idea, giving her a chance to prove herself to be smarter than Vos. Would she not have learned from Dryden's obvious mistakes and perhaps succeed where her former boss had failed? The thought gnawed at him.

Why did he even want her to be loyal to him? Though she had been Dryden's lieutenant, and though she may have shown greater loyalty to him than to that greedy piece of filth, in the greater scheme of things she remained of no apparent importance.

He had somehow arrived at an answer that felt obvious, and yet, why exactly it was, he really couldn't say. Salvaging her from this ordeal, he thought, was something he would have once considered simply done out of laziness. What other purpose could she serve that would amount to more than it already had?

But she had come, after all. She had contacted him straight away. She was afraid, and he could tell just how much, but she had braved that fear and met him face-to-face. Something about that was tugging at him. He cringed ever so slightly when he realized what that feeling was.

At some point he had started pacing but was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice his movements. When he did, he turned around so suddenly that it made the titanium bearings in his cybernetic knees release a cutting sound that came unexpectedly to them both.

Maul caught her looking at his most recent pair of feet that peeked out from under his long cape. Despite her best efforts, she could not hide her reaction from him but, to his surprise, it was neither disgust nor pity that he saw reflected in her face. If anything, she looked saddened, something else he was not prepared for.

The man's eyes dropped to the ground between them and he stood there for a moment with a perplexed look on his face. He had just realized how he would test her loyalty.

"There's somewhere I have to go, and you will be coming with me. Pack what you need, we're leaving shortly and won't return for a while," he announced after a moment of silence.

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If you have reached here, I sincerely hope you have enjoyed reading the story so far. In case you would like to keep reading:

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ...

[shanikin]

Forbidden

Hey guys! I have been sitting on this story for a while. This is my first post on tumblr, please let me know what you think. Feel free to send me requests in my submission box 😊 Bucky/You

Summary: The hatred between the Russian Mafia and the Italian Mob in New York City has always been strong. But things are quickly getting worse. In order to save themselves the innocent daughter of one gang is married to the empty Captain of the other. Their marriage is toxic, full of anger, hatred, and lust. Will they survive it? Arranged Marriage AU

The Italians and the Russians never got along. It went way back, the distaste springing from their mother countries original hate for one another. What caused the original spark? No one really knows. They spoke different languages, held different customs. It was likely they just hated one another because they were different. As much as we would like to think we are advanced, that we've come so far since the beginning of time, we really haven't. We still fear the unknown. It was sadly human nature to hate what was different from you.

It didn't help when both peoples came to America, only to find that they hadn't escaped each other. It was made even worse when the separate mobs began forming. Two violent, cruel gangs whose people hated each other right from the start. Both wanted to control New York City, but could never truly because the other was in the way. The only thing that both could agree on was that they hated one another.

And that hatred went deep. They had been killing each other off for nothing short of fifty years. Men, women, even the children had been taught to hate and kill. They didn't discriminate. This life was to cut throat for anyone to be soft. They were just getting better at it to. The police had no idea what was going on right under their noses.

Many rumors circulated about where the feud truly began.

The most popular said that the deep hatred began when a man and a women, one from the Italian mob the other from the Russian Mafia, fell in love. They kept it a secret for years, running back and forth to each other and avoiding their family's scrutiny. To make a long story short, the girl's father found out and shot her. Right between the eyes. The Russians didn't tolerate disloyalty. She was supposed to be married to one of his high ranking members, but she was impure. He had to make an example out of her. The Italian man swore vengeance.

He shot his lovers father, rather publically. The two gangs had avoided each other since then, each constantly plotting how to destroy the other. Or so the story goes. Many people don't believe it. A Russian women and an Italian man, both from the mafia, would have never fallen in love. It just didn't make sense.

It had been a long time since the hatred began. Now no one cared why it started, they only cared how they were going to finish it.

In a mansion just outside New York City, the head of the Russian mob, Alexander Pierce, stood staring out the window. Pierce knew that he was a cruel man. He did what he had to do to stay in power. That often meant sacrificing the weak for the strong. Many didn't approve of his methods, but he did what needed to be done. He didn't lose sleep at night and that's all that mattered to him.

Pierce was pleased with himself. He had been giving himself an imaginary pat on the back for the past few months. He had failed at the same task so many times, he had been about to give up. But Pierce never took anything sitting down. It had taken years of work and fake documents, but he had finally gotten a man on the inside. The Italians had no idea that the mole was present.

Sam Wilson seemed like an average guy to the untrained eye. He was ex-military, mid-twenties, looking for money… He was the perfect stereotypical guy who would be looking to enter the mob to make more money. He was a good guy, but when times get rough even good people did bad things. Pierce wondered why someone like Sam had gotten so desperate, he didn't seem like a criminal. But he didn't really care enough to ask. This man was a means to an end.

Getting him inside wasn't easy. Pierce had to pick the man carefully. If he had been too involved within the Russian Mob, the man would be caught. But if the man wasn't loyal enough, they would simply switch sides and give the Italians intel.

Don Salvador did extensive background checks before employing anyone new, so it took no small amount of effort to get Wilson in. Wilsons all around wholesomeness is probably what got him in. Salvador probably didn't expect an ounce of dishonesty from that man. He hadn't been assigned to anything important, just protecting one of the boss's daughters. But being so close to her, he was inside the mansion itself. He would be able to hear things that went on in private meetings. At least that was the goal. Wilson came back to report every other week.

So far, he had come up short.

"What can you tell us about them?" Pierce demanded. He didn't bother to mask his irritation anymore. He was growing frustrated with the constant lack of new knowledge Wilson was bringing back. It had been at least two months since he brought any information worth listening to.

"They're good. Getting better." Wilson responded, standing behind him. "They've been taking a new backroads route to transport their weapons. The transports have between six to eight men. Two sit in the front of the truck, the rest in the back with the goods."

Finally something useful.

That's why his men couldn't get hits anymore. Pierce had to come back from Russia because the American side of the business was falling utterly short. They hadn't managed to steal weapons or drugs from the Italians in months. It was causing some tightness in their funds. It also turned Pierces attention to the lack of strong leadership. After he figured out a way to take them down, he was going to send Barnes to run the show.

The Winter Soldier was cold, empty, and cruel. He had no problem doing the dirty work that lesser men shivered thinking about. He did what needed to be done to make money and further Pierces agenda.

"Interesting" He said.

That still didn't explain how they were managing to avoid them at every turn. Every time his men seemed to be getting a lead, it would slip right through their fingers. They would come up empty. Maybe it was time they simply obliterate the competition.

Something needed to be done. The Triad was beginning to become more and more bold. They couldn't fight both the Italians and the Triad. They would lose ground quickly. A full blown street war between the Russians and the Italians would be catastrophic. The winning side would be weaker, allowing for The Triad to come in and simply wipe out the survivors.

"What about the mansion?" Pierce mused. "The grounds? Would we be able to sneak men in to get rid of them?"

If they cut the heads of the snake, they wouldn't be able to organize a counter attack. Making it simple to sweep in and destroy them in the middle of the night.

"Not likely." Wilson snorted. "The Salvador's mansion is locked tight, a small army patrolling the grounds constantly. The mansion is a fortress as well. You'd never be able to get inside, even if you did kill the men guarding them. You're losses would be too great for the mission to be worth it."

Useless.

"Not even with a man on the inside?" Peirce asked raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think so Sir." Wilson responded honestly.

"Well what do you think then?" Pierce said, visibly irritated. "What useful information do you have?"

"I don't have access to much. I've been assigned to guard his daughter for months." Wilson responded. He wasn't trained to hide his emotions. Not like most of Pierces men were. He could see a flicker of fondness in the ex-soldiers eyes.

"Which one?" He asked uninterested.

"The youngest." Wilson responded.

"The most useless you mean." Peirce deadpanned. His test had worked. He saw a flicker of irritation flit through Wilson's eyes. He liked her. But enough to betray them? Probably not. Just enough that he would hesitate if Pierce's command was to shoot her between the eyes. Not a threat. Not yet.

"…Yes, Sir."

He wanted to laugh at his sentiment. The girl would probably have him skinned alive if she found out who he was working for. It had surprised Pierce when Salvador had used someone with a skill set like Wilson's to guard his youngest daughter, rather than do something more useful. Wilson wouldn't have had to have any training because of his military experience, been able to jump right into raids… Instead he had chosen to assign him to his youngest daughter.

Sentiment. This is why Pierce didn't have children. They made for clouded judgement and foolish decision making. Having strong men constantly guard his children is probably necessary. His enemies constantly trying to destroy what he loves.

That's it.

"If we can't destroy them, maybe we can control them." He thought out loud. "Tell me, how many children does Don Salvador have?"

 "Five." Wilson responded automatically. "The oldest is his son, four daughters follow after that."

"I bet you he's trying to find suitable husbands for the girls." Pierce said, a wicked grin slowly forming on his face.

If they could control the Italian Mafia, make an ally out of them for a short period of time, they could take out the Triad together. Pierce wasn't a fool. He knew that the Italians would never in their right mind make an alliance with the Russian mob. He didn't want to be anywhere near them either. But if they take out the Triad, it would no longer be a two front war. The Italians would feel a false sense of security, then he could strike.

Even if they didn't help willingly, Pierce didn't need an ally. He needed a puppet. Love is the easiest way to control someone. Perhaps this could work…

Pierce looked up to see Wilson with a sour look on his face. Pierce thought that maybe this could be done.

But Wilson didn't seem convinced. Salvador may not be overly found of most of his children, but he would never give the Russians a mean to control them. Salvador wasn't a soft man. He had his son, his heir. Girls were only useful when rewarding men with beautiful wives in this world. The only child the mob boss was fond of was his youngest daughter. The rest he could do without. Salvador certainly wouldn't allow himself to be controlled. If Salvador gave one of his daughters to Pierce and the two mobs clashed, that daughter would certainly be dead. Then Salvador would have to retaliate or look weak to the people he leads.

"Salvador isn't a stupid man." He explained, saying each word slowly. "He wouldn't give up any of his children, not even his least favorite, to the Russians. Not willingly at least."

"It'll take no small amount of charm, but any man can be fooled." Peirce said. "I already have a plan in the works."

"What can I do?" Sam questioned. He wanted to be involved. He knew that Salvador would never give Marina up willingly, but he owed it to her to at least try and help her avoid that fate.

"Does Salvador own anything that he would be willing to trade for one of his children?"

"I…" Sam wanted to say no. But he knew that wasn't true. "Yes. A weapon. It's just recently been designed. It's deadly. He may consider it then."

"How would we get it?" Pierce asked.

"I can take care of that…" He mumbled. This wouldn't be an attack, it would be a stealth mission. One man. If he could get that one man inside unnoticed, than the plan would be a success.

"Good man." Pierce said. He chocked his head toward Sam slightly. "How long have you known about this new design?"

Shit. Sam really didn't know about it until recently. But he didn't want to say anything to Pierce. He hadn't really known what he had gotten himself into when he signed up to be a double agent, but betraying them didn't sit right with him. Sam didn't report it when Pierce originally asked, so he knew he had to tread very carefully.

"Not long." Sam sighed. "I wasn't sure if it even existed until a few days ago."

"And you didn't think to report back sooner?" Pierce said raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't want-"

"Cut the shit, Wilson." He interrupted. "I'm not a stupid man either. I know what it looks like when a man wants to protect someone. Remember where your loyalties lye or you'll regret it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Sam said.

Sam knew that he wouldn't ever be able to truly keep anything from Pierce. He was trained in deception and cruelty. He was trained to see when a man was lying or trying to hide something. But Wilson still felt that guilt. Don't make the mistake of thinking he cared about the man he worked for. He didn't have any loyalty to Salvador. The man was cold and cruel and everything that was wrong with the world. He was a lot like Pierce.

It was the person under Sam's care that made him hesitant.

"And what man would want to marry a member of the Italian mob?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"Leave that to me." He said, waving his hand dismissively. "Tell me about the women."

And Sam did. He told him about the oldest girl, Vera, she was twenty seven. She was harsh and cruel but had deep knowledge of strategy. He had seen how she tried to pick on Marina. Sam always did his best to avoid her and keep Marina away from her. Vera knew the inner workings of the Italian mob, so she would be useful if they could fool her somehow. But same knew she was the least likely to be controlled. If she didn't have an older brother, Sam was positive she would have inherited the entire show.

The second was Alana. She was twenty five. The girl, for lack of a better word, was a whore. Images that made Sam want to gag flew through his mind. He had caught her more than once in closets with guards in compromising positons. She spent most of her time flitting around the mansion trying to seduce the guards. Her father had a hard time keeping them away from her. She had even tried coming after him when Marina slept. She didn't have much of a brain, but she made up for that with her other assets.

The third was Selena. She was the intellectual, twenty four years old and utterly dull. She spent most of her time reading or working on designing weapons. She would be the most useful if they could convince her to make weapons for them. For someone with such a large brain, she lacked in personality. The girl sounded more like a machine than a person.

Finally, there was you. You were the youngest, a few months shy of your twentieth birthday. You a had a different mother than your older sisters. Your father had remarried after his first wife died in a tragically suspicious fire. While all of your siblings were bitter, you were sweet. You saw the good in everything and was far too innocent to be forced into a marriage with a man you had been raised to hate. So he tried to make you sound as useless as possible. But it was no secret that you were your father's favorite.

 Later

That night, Sam had left the front door of the expensive home unlocked. It was long after darkness had fallen over the city, a shadowed and silent figure sat motionless in the trees. He watched and waited, his focus sharp and unbreakable and all the more deadly for how undetectable it was. The guards had no idea he was there. He had easily jumped silently from tree to tree, making his way closer and closer to the house completely undetected.

This was no easy task. Slipping in and out of the Italians mansion was going to be difficult. But he was the best. He heard those beneath him. The rumors about how he had an unnatural devotion to his job. Some of the rumors made him want to snort. Some made the cold emptiness in his chest deepen. They talked about how he had lived up to the fearsome reputation that he had gained over the years. How he would kill simply for thinking of doing something wrong.

But none of this fazed him. He knew what he was.

He was going to jump down from the tree and make a run for the house. He hadn't seen anyone in hours. It had to be almost 3:00am. He just needed to slip inside, acquire the weapon, and then finish the mission. The back door opened with a loud creak causing him to pull out his knife. He would make quick work for them, a hit to the jugular and he would be good to go.

He paused. A girl. Young by the looks of it, with wild chocolate brown hair. You looked troubled. You were humming some irritating repetitive tune while walking down the stone pathways.

Damn. It was one of Salvador's daughters. He couldn't kill you, so he'd just have to wait for the stupid little thing to get bored and leave.

He watched you follow the stone path, to a small comfortable looking chair. You were so small, standing face to face you would barely reach his chin. But he didn't let that fool him. He could tell you were strong. The way you carried herself told him that. You looked around for a few more seconds, before settling in the chair and pulling out a book.

He didn't understand what a spoiled little mafia princess could be so troubled over. The women in this life had is easy. The hardest thing they had to do was marry, sometimes to men they didn't know. But even then the men in this life were rich, powerful, and could give them everything they could ever want so long as they keep their husband happy. They had no idea the horrors they were being kept safe from. They should be grateful for the safety that they're provided.

Every Italian women he had met in this life was spoiled, stupid, and a pain to be around. Most of them were prisoners. One's he couldn't execute fast enough. The Russians didn't raise their women to be so weak. He wondered what this girl was so upset about. Did her father not buy her the shoes she wanted? If not that, it was probably something equally as vain. She probably wasn't even really reading that book.

He hated them. More than anything. The Italian mafia was the reason he had turned out this way. So empty and cold. They had taken everything from him. He wanted nothing more than to take that weapon and kill every person in that damn house. It took so much not to jump down from his hiding spot and throttle you were you sat.

After a few more minutes of waiting, you seemed to be pretty distracted. He could sneak past you easily-

"Pretty little Y/N." A sharp voice interrupted his thoughts. A massive girl, nearly as tall as him, was stalking towards the chair. She looked foul, but not because she was ugly. Her face was scrunched up, like she was constantly frowning or like she was smelling something bad. She looked like she was coming to pick a fight. This was going to be very interesting.

"Leave me alone, Vera." The girl, Y/N, soft voice responded. Your voice fit her small frame, timid and musical. You sounded resigned, trying your best to avoid the massive female. You didn't seem like you wanted to fight this girl, your attention remaining solely on your book.

"Why?" She snorted. "Are you gonna run and tell Daddy?"

Salvador. He's not surprised that he produced the foul creature yelling at the tiny girl in the chair. He was a disgusting man, so it only made sense for him to have disgusting children. He had seen men who take pleasure out of hurting other people. Vera had the same smirk on her face. He could hardly believe that the two girls were related. They looking nothing alike. Their temperaments also seemed very different.

"No." You said, still focusing on the book in front of you.

 "This is a joke to you." Vera said, crouching down to your level. She was trying to get a rise out of you. It didn't seem to be working. "It's been so easy for you. We've all had to sacrifice. Everyone but you. All you have to do is bat your eyelashes at him and he gives you anything you want."

You sighed, closing the book and letting it fall to your lap.

"I don't want anything." You said.

"Maybe not." She said, sick smile still in place. "But he's protecting you from that savage."

"Antonio is hardly a savage. I've seen how he treats you. Like an equal. That's much more than you could ever hope for in this life." Y/N was trying to show this girl the bright side of a situation, when her body language clearly was screaming she wanted to crush the tiny girl. You picked the book up again. "He's fairly handsome to."

"Hope for? What do you know about that? You'll never have to marry anyone. You wish for anything and it's yours." She hissed in your face, trying to snatch the book from your lap. The girl seized your wrists in her hands and began squeezing, her words coming out faster and faster. They were being fueled by anger. "Our father will keep you locked up here forever. He doesn't really love you. No. You remind him of his dead bride that he killed my mother for-"

A sickening crack and Vera's howl interrupted the silent night. Did she just…

"Enough." Your quiet voice came.

"Stupid girl." Vera hissed, cradling her arm. "You're lucky father adores you. I wish someone would take you, kill you, I don't even care! I would snap your little neck if-"

"Hello little one."

Sam Wilson. The rat. He had interrupted Vera's threat. She had silenced her incoherent rant when she had seen the body guard come to Y/N's aid. He could see the veins in her neck pulsating from her anger as she stormed back into the house, still cradling her dislocated arm.

He sat next to her with a sigh. Wilson grabbed Y/Ns's wrists, flipping them over to reveal dark purple bruises already beginning to form on her forearms. He looked pained. Pierce was right. He would report this back. Wilson cared about the young one.

Idiot..

"I can get your dad-"

"It's okay Sam." You interrupted with a small smile, withdrawing her arms. "Her bark is worse than her bite."

"Alright." He sighed. "I'll be right inside if you need anything."

"Thank you."

He completed his mission quickly after that. Wilson had made it easy for him to sneak past the guards.

The manor was quiet when he returned from his mission. He knew that Pierce would be up and waiting for him. To hear if he had succeeded in taking the weapon. He left the motorcycle in the garage and silently walked inside.

He thought back to the small girl in the garden. James Barnes hardly ever found himself surprised. That little girl had snapped an arm out of place like it was nothing. He didn't want to say he was impressed. But that took strength and skill.

Interesting. Very Interesting.

The Next Night.

The Salvador's had discovered that their prized possession was missing in the middle of the night. They weren't even sure what its capabilities were yet. If the Russians decided to use it on them, he was sure that they would be wiped out within the month. All they knew was that they needed it back.

It hadn't even been an hour since they discovered that it was missing that they had received a call. Their price, no doubt. His man had given him the phone quickly with an urgent nod of the head.

"You took the tesseract." Salvador said coolly after taking the phone.

"We did." Alexander Pierce replied. Salvador wasn't surprised it was that snake behind the robbery. He saw no point in dragging this any longer than it needed to be. He would give this snake anything he wanted for that weapon back. There was no doubt Pierce knew that already.

"Get on with it then." He said. "What do you want for it?"

"It seems to be worth quite a bit. Maybe we'll keep it?"

"You wouldn't be calling if you didn't want something." He sighed, growing bored of this false banter.

"Fine." Pierce said. "One of your daughters."

One of his daughters? That hadn't been what he was expecting. He wanted to say no, but Salvador knew his men wouldn't allow this weapon to be in the hands of the Russians because of something as simple as sentiment. Saying no would make him look weak. He had four daughters. He could spare one. Maybe Alana. The girl was useless. But not without knowing the true reason.

"Why?" He asked slowly.

"Insurance." Pierce lied simply. "You won't use this against us."

"Really?" Salvador scoffed. "If you were so afraid of that you would just keep it. My daughters are beautiful, but not worth the weapon. Tell me the real reason."

"Either you give me what I demand, or I destroy all of you were you stand." Pierce snapped.

"Fine." Salvador bit out. "Which one?"

"My Captain will decide which he wants for his bride." Pierce said, before the line went dead.

Your POV.

"Y/N. Please come down." Sam called up into the trees. He couldn't see you, but he knew this is where you retreated to when you was trying to get away. Sam could tell you didn't enjoy being the daughter of a gangster. You didn't enjoy the money or the guns or the glamor. Not like your sisters did. You often hid up in the tree's to get away from it. He had told you countless times not to climb, but he knew trying to tell you to do anything was useless.

"Why?" He heard you call down from the trees. He heard the playfulness in your voice. It was so hard to be stern when you sounded so sweet and good.

"You're father requests your presence." He said sarcastically. He saw a blur and before he could blink you had landed gracefully on the balls of your feet directly in front of him.

"Oh?" you gasped, putting her hand on your chest in mock surprise. "What does my father want pray tell?"

"You could break your leg falling out of that tree." He mumbled. He saw you roll your eyes and continue walking. He spoke louder when you laughed at him, "I wouldn't have a job after that."

"You worry too much Sammy." You said turning back and smiling at him.

"How many times am I going to have to ask you to stop calling me that?" He sighed more to himself than anything.

"At least once more." You shot back.

"Girls. Come in." Her father said seriously.

You looked up and felt unease come to you. Your father's face was pinched tight, something was very wrong. Not many things made your father anxious. He had seen many awful things, so nothing small would make him squeamish. You hadn't seen that look on his face. Not since your mother was killed. If the look on his face wasn't a dead giveaway, the white-knuckled grip he had on the door was.

"What's wrong?" Vera deadpanned, as she pushed past him and walked into the office. Never one to beat around the bush. You could see the bruising near her elbow. Whoops.

"You all should probably sit down." Her father said, gesturing for the luxurious sofa near his desk. Your mind raced. What was going on that required all four of them to be there? You weren’t involved with your fathers… less legal activities. So this couldn't be that kind of meeting. You had no relatives besides your sisters that you knew of, so no one important could have died.

Your mussing could have gone on and on but your father had beat your mind to the punch.

"The Russians. They got in here last night."

You wanted to punch herself. She had known. There was someone in the trees. You knew it. You had felt eyes on you while you sat out in your chair, you should have listened to your instincts. You should have told Sam, should have said something. If you did, maybe they wouldn't be in this situation.

"What?" Alana said, her red stained lips forming an O.

"We don't know how yet." Her father continued. "There didn't even seem to be any sign of forced entry. But they took something. Something valuable. "

"How are we going to get it back?" Vera asked. She was ready to jump into action, storm the field right then and there. But she noticed her father stiffen further when she asked that question. Something wasn't right. Your sisters didn't notice how tense he was.

But you knew your father.

"That's what we're here to discuss." Your father said each word slowly, drawing them out like he was trying to soften the blow.

"Just tell us." Vera snapped.

"One of their terms." He said. "One of you is going to marry one of their men."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. You had expected something entirely different. You had thought up some really impossible things throughout your life. Things to escape the reality of her situation. But this was something you had never imagined. How could your father expect one of you to marry a Russian? You didn't know very much about life inside the mafia, but did know the two gangs did not get along.

You also knew it was a Russian Mobster who had shot your mother.

You never expected her father to trade one of their family members for something so expendable. They could rebuild a weapon, replace it, or steal it back. They could never replace family. You couldn't believe he would give up a daughter to one of them. Everyone knew that your father adored your mother. He went on a rampage when he found out what had happed to her. This was so unlike him. You didn't understand.

 "You expect us to marry one of them?" you asked. You sounded genuinely concerned. "For a weapon?"

"You're not going to marry him." Her father scoffed, like the idea was completely absurd. "You're only in here because this is family business. He'll prefer one of your older sisters-"

"Hold on." Vera said, a sarcastic laugh bubbling in her throat. "This man won't even get the chance to prefer her. Let's not pretend you are going to let little precious Marina anywhere near him. She's going to be tucked away somewhere safe, so it's guaranteed to be one of us."

Silence. Her father didn't look guilty, he just rolled his eyes. His irritation with Vera was evident. You knew that he didn't care for your sisters feelings. You could tell he thought she was just wasting his time with their accusations. This was something he thought his sisters should know. One of them would be marrying this man. Not you. He would never willingly give you up to any man. He would tell them to their faces that he loved you more.

You knew you would pay for this later. They would probably all gang up on you this time so you wouldn't be able to get away.

"Own up to it." Vera commanded, after a period of silence.

"Do you think I care for your petty insecurities?" Her father snapped. "Learn your place. Y/N is too young to be married. She'll be staying here."

"Of course she is."

You flinched as your sisters glared at you, storming out of the office.

The Next Day.

"They hate me Sam." You said, sighing wrapping your hands tighter. The tape you used around your knuckles would always come loose when you were sparing. You didn't really mind though. You wore the bruises on your knuckles like a trophy. It showed how far you had come. Your father had insisted you learn to defend youself from a young age, but he had no idea you would take such a liking to it.

At first he tried to discourage it because it wasn't lady like, but he didn't have the heart to deny you something you truly loved. It was a plus that you fought better than most men twice your size. You could tell Sam struggled to keep up with you sometimes.

"It's not your fault." He said, trying to comfort you and whipping the sweat from his forehead.

You knew it wasn't your fault. But that didn't make you feel any better. It didn't make your sisters love you. They looked at you like you were a demon summoned from their personal hells. You were an outsider in your own home. You always had been. It got even worse once your mother died. You wanted a family. You wanted to live somewhere away from the crime. Maybe even be normal. What you wouldn't give for your father's favoritism to be placed elsewhere.

"I remind him of my mother." You said finally. "That's why he's so…. Protective."

"What about your sister's mother?" Sam asked. "Do none of them remind him of her?"

"Yes. I think that's the problem." You wanted to laugh at his innocent question. You hadn't been born yet, but it was a well-known fact that your sister's mother was a wretched women. "It was an arranged marriage also. From what I hear from the staff that remember her, she was a horrid women."

"Jealousy is an ugly emotion." Sam sighed.

"Your right." you said shrugging her shoulders. "I shouldn't blame them. I wish he didn't favor me so obviously."

You had finished tapping her hands.

"Now come on." You said, holding up her fists. "And stop holding back."

You stood there, waiting for him to strike. For such a large guy he barely made any noise when he was walking around. You knew he was waiting, trying to get you to let your guard down. When he finally lunged at you, he gripped her wrist with crushing force. You managed to whip around and break the hold easily.

He had swung at you, but you were faster. Gripping his wrist, you used your momentum to kick off from the back of his knee and swing her legs around his shoulders. Your elbow slammed into his head. Sam fell straight on his back, with you triumphantly sitting on his stomach.

You stood and straightened your clothes carefully.

"Why do you fight in a dress?" He asked, as you reached down to help him up.

"Why don't you fight in a dress?" you asked, your tone sarcastic.

You fought in a dress because when you truly needed to fight, you weren't going to be in a little sports bra and leggings. You were going to be in your everyday normal clothing. You preferred dresses to pants, so that was what you would be wearing if you were going to be out and about. The logic made sense to you.

"That'd be a sight." Sam snorted. You saw a giant bump forming on Sam's head, right were your elbow had connected.

"Oh God! Sorry!" You squeaked.

"It's fine." Sam chuckled, swaying a little when he stood. "That's- That's just enough for today."

"Come on then." You said, laughing a little at his stuttering. "Let's go to the kitchen for a snack."

They walked through the house, chatting about nothing. He would always ask about what books you were reading, even though you knew he wasn't actually interested. It was sweet. He actually listened to what you had to say and didn't turn his nose up at you. When you thought about it, Sam was your real friend.

Which was sad because he was paid to be around you.

You walked past your father's office and sighed. You knew you should go in there and see what he wanted to eat. When he was working, he would often go without food for an entire day without even realizing it. He worked himself nearly to death and he wasn't getting any younger. Just because you was angry, didn't mean you should avoid him.

You pushed the wooden door open.

"Papa. Let me get you something to-"

Your words stuck to the roof of your mouth and your tongue felt like sand paper. You saw your sisters first. They were all dressed in their very finest. Tight dresses and make up. They looked nothing like themselves. Then you saw a man standing near her father, stiff and regal looking. Alexander Pierce. You recognized his face.

"Y/N." Her father whispered in horror.

"Papa!" You said, whipping your head around. "What's….going on?"

You saw movement behind your father and your gaze followed.

Your eyes locked with a man standing in the corner. You looked around. This must be the man that was picking his bride. But he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but that room. He was young, somewhere in his late twenties. Certainly not the decrepit old man you and your sisters had been imagining.

You could feel your eyes go wide as saucers when you stared at him.

He was handsome. You didn't want to admit it, but it was frighteningly so. He was tall and strong, the suit he wore stretched over his chest. He had long dark brown hair, one side tucked behind his ear and the other hanging in his face. His jaw was sharp and covered in a thin layer of stubble that made him that much more beautiful. His skin was lightly tanned, his mouth was pulled tightly into a scowl. He stared at you with dead, strikingly blue eyes.

That stare. You could feel that this was the man in the trees by his glare alone. It was so intense you swore you could feel in burning through you. But you were drawn to him. That was wrong, wrong, wrong. Your attention was drawn when your father gripped your shoulder and attempted to shove you out the door.

"Y/N, leave." Her father all but shouted. Before you could recover, the beautiful man was speaking.

"Eta devushka" He said to the other man, his voice rough like gravel. He mustn't talk very much. You couldn't help but be fascinated, the Russian language was fascinating. He didn't have time to wonder what he said before Pierce was staring at you.

"Her." Pierce said, nodding towards you.

He couldn't mean her her, as in you. You looked behind you, but you were the only one standing on that side of the room. Your heart rate was beginning to speed up, but you couldn't move from where you were standing. This couldn't be happening.

"Not her." Your father tried to argue. "She isn't old enough."

"Her." He confirmed.

The Russian men that Pierce brought with him had begun advancing on you, but your father stepped in front of you. They were holding automatic weapons much too close to them for comfort.

"I said not her." He tried to reason. "Take any of the other girls. Not her. Please"

You were shocked. You had never heard your father beg before. You thought he would always be too proud for anything like that. But his pleading didn't seem to have the desired effect. Pierce simply smiled, nodding his head. Your father showing his weakness did nothing but solidify that you were the one who would be going.

"Our deal was he could pick which one he wanted." Pierce shrugged "He chose. Take her."

"You're not taking her anywhere!" your father insisted, pulling out his small hand gun. He pointed it between Pierces eyes. But you heard the clicking of five automatic rifles being aimed at your father's chest.

"Enough!" Pierce snapped. "We'll kill everyone in this house, starting with her, if you don't give her to us now."

"I won't." He said shaking his head. Pierce sighed.

"Barnes. Grab her." The handsome man moved forward, shoving your father out of the way. He grabbed one of your wrists and all but dragged you to the door.

"Don't touch me!" you yelled, snapping your arm down and breaking his hold. His shock bought you some time. You turned to run to your father but he had easily caught you around the waist and pulled you to him.

"Let me at least say goodbye to her!" your father finally snapped, silencing the chaos.

"Fine. Two minutes." The man dropped you to your feet.

"Y/N, listen to me." He said, gripping your chin to get your attention. "Listen! It's going to be fine. I won't let them do this to you. I'll figure something out. We have the tesseract back, it'll only be a matter of time before we get you out of there. We'll destroy them all. They can't force you to marry him either. They can't do it without your consent. Do you understand? Don't let them trick you into signing your life away. No matter what they tell you."

"I understand." You said, trying to regulate your breathing.

"Good girl. Now be calm. Don't let them see-"

"My weakness. I won't." You nodded again, letting your father's words harden your resolve. You knew it was hardly as simple as not showing weakness. You were going to be taken to these monsters home. You were going to live with them. You wouldn't be able to break, not even in the solitude of your own room. You prayed that your life wasn't over and your father truly was going to find tou a way out of this. You prayed you weren’t going to spend the rest of your life tied to a man you despised.

 You really couldn't see a positive outcome. Each scenario that played in your brain was worse than the last. You told yourself you would survive. For your father. For yourself.

"You're strong. You'll be fine." He said, gripping her shoulders. You could tell he was trying to convince himself, not you. He turned to the man next to you.

"Can she take her body guard with her?" your father asked.

"Fine." Pierce said waving his hand. "Blind fold her and take her to the car."

He watched as they dragged  away, for the first time feeling helpless.

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - The Host AU

Jaime knows his days are counted when he is brought into one of those white-tiled rooms at the enemy’s HQ.

The Souls be damned.

At least the others escaped, he saw to that when the Souls stopped them on a mission. Tyrion and Davos will have taken Arya, Pod and the rest back to the hideout by now, so at the very least the rebellion can continue without him.

While not surprised, Jaime is still less than pleased to meet Stannis Baratheon, one of those bastards who decided to side with this alien race that invaded Planetos and takes over people’s bodies as they please to assume leadership over the world as they know it. Stannis let a Soul willingly take over, a Soul known as Melisandre, or as the rebellion calls her, “the boss bitch”. While Melisandre leaves him more or less in control over his actions, Stannis is just like them, and that means to Jaime that he has to go like every other bloody Soul.

Though sadly, that will soon include himself, as Stannis informs him. They will make him a Host as well. Jaime fights against the procedure as best as he can – because sure as hell will he go down fighting – but as he finds the Soul they brought in manifest itself inside him, he suddenly hears a none too kindly voice cursing him to stop the folly.

Listen. If you let me in, I will get you out of here, the voice tells him. But of course, Jaime doesn’t buy into that cheap kind of trick.

Because that’s some bullshit, lady.

You must understand this one thing: They will have a Soul inhabit your body no matter what you do. The only choice you can currently make is to let me in or wait for someone who does not ask first. I understand that you have no reason to trust me. And I don’t ask you to. I am asking for a truce.

How would I have a truce with some alien I don’t even know?

The name is Brienne and I am trying to help you – but all of that will be over soon if you don’t do anything. You can’t withstand much longer.

I am strong enough.

Right now you are not. I can ensure that you will remain conscious, just inside your own head, but I have to take over or they will realize the ruse. That’s all I have to offer, but I can promise you that I will bring you back home, even if it kills me.

Well, funny enough that will kill me as well, so I don’t fancy that alternative much.

Jaime, well aware that he is out of alternatives, lets “Brienne” take control, which puts him into the “backseat” of his own mind while Brienne calls the shots, telling a very pleased Melisandre and Stannis that she completed the mission and awaits new instructions.

“I am glad to see that you finally prove to be the god soldier you are supposed to be, Brienne, one who knows her place.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Though actually, not so much. Brienne stands true to her word and flees from the HQ the first opportunity she gets. And contrary to what Jaime feared, his mind remains alive, as Brienne did not seek full control over his mind and body, even though he will make sure to use any opportunity to be an ass about it.

And so, the long walk back home begins. In the middle of the Dornish desert, the rebellion built an underground haven to live and plan future strikes against the Souls taking over.

Though I still don’t understand why you are helping us.

Haven’t you heard? I am more of a rebel myself.

How comes?

Disagreements with the management.

Just that? Really?

I wasn’t the only one. We rebelled against Melisandre. She betrayed all ideals us Wanderers used to stand for.

Wanderers?

That was what we were before she made us nothing but Souls. We wandered across galaxies and tried to save life as we knew it.

By playing puppet master with people?

By learning what it takes to be human.

Jaime cautions Brienne that she won’t have an easy welcome, granted that they even make it to the desert without being caught – or nature killing them before they reach the hideout. He tells her that they have better chances by not telling the rest of the team that he is still in there but instead inform them that she took a hold of his body and that his consciousness supposedly faded in the process but that she wants to join their side and help them take down the HQ. As things currently stand, Jaime can’t take possession of his own body again, and until he can – which is a big what if – they’d do best not to upset the others any more than they will be anyway.

After all, Souls are not to be trusted.

On the verge of dehydration, the two reach the hideout. Though there is, as expected, no warm welcome, even less so when Arya decides to knock them in the back of the head when she catches the silver circle in Jaime’s eyes, which is a sure sign that a Soul took possession of a Host. Davos tells her to leave him and bring him to the hideout instead. As expected, Brienne is the hideout’s most wanted, and not in a good way.

Arya is perhaps most against them. As Jaime explains to Brienne, the reason why she has even more misgiving for the Souls than most others is that they killed nearly all of her family, safe for her “stupid sister” who joined Stannis for all they know.

As the two try to make a plan for how to go about their new situation, Brienne makes a point that they won’t ever trust her intentions to actually start a revolution amongst her own kind if she doesn’t do anything to prove her loyalty to their cause. Jaime is at a loss, but Brienne eventually comes to the conclusion that Sansa may be the key. She saw Sansa at the HQ and hopes that maybe they can convince her to come back with them. She may have important intel and it would help them to get Arya onboard.

Maybe.

You don’t know how to inspire confidence, you know?

I am just not fond of lying.

Which explains why you are so piss-poor at it.

While the mission proves more than dangerous, they eventually succeed in bringing Sansa Stark back home. And along the way, the two have to realize that they fight much better together than apart, even though it demands of Jaime to adapt his ways of fighting and support rather than lead.

Arya actually starts to trust Brienne thereafter, if cautiously so, even though things are tensed between the sisters even after the reunion. And while those two work through their issues, Jaime demands some hard truths from Brienne at last, as she tends to evade questions about who she truly is and what this is all about. In the end, Brienne has to give in.

We were very much like you. A humanoid race from a faraway planet, trying its best to live our lives.

Wait, you had an actual body before? You weren’t always those white, glowing parasites?!

While I tend to disagree with the description, yes, we weren’t always like that.

Then why did you all decide it was time for a makeover?

Not all of us took on this shape. We were selected few. The Wanderer Program was founded to save our world from extinction. Fewer and fewer children were born in every generation until we reached the breaking point. Our race grew sterile, if you will. And life as we knew it was on the verge of destruction. The Wanderers were meant to travel to faraway galaxies and find species like us, analyze their physiologies and social interactions and find out how they manage to battle global sterility. For such travel, we had to give up our bodies. They couldn’t possibly survive such a long trip across worlds. We wanted to find life again. Or so we thought… because some of us had a different idea. They wanted power. They wanted to exploit life. And they realized that the Wanderer Program, which succeeded to alter DNA in such a way that the soul could transcend the body, were the means of gaining control.

Power is a bitch.

I believed in the program, in what we did. Until I saw what they did to Renly.

Renly Baratheon?

Yes, he was my Host before we two… teamed up involuntarily.

To put it mildly. What of Renly, then?

He was no part of the rebellion, you may know. Yet, he was against Stannis and his practices. Through Renly, I learned more and more about what was behind the program I once joined in an effort to preserve life, not destroy it. Other Souls of the program formed a group, but one of them reported us… and as a result, the Hosts were all brutally murdered while we were still connected.

So you… witnessed Renly’s death as your own.

Yes. He died because of me. And after that, they put me in detention, telling me that I’d only ever get out if I learned my place. Until the day I met you. And that changed everything.

So what’s the goal for you now? Once we take on the HQ? What’s the next step?

Go back home and fix our problems. Pick up with where we left off with our mission. I found such goodness in people. I saw human compassion, friendship, love. And that is what I’d want to take home, even if I failed to find a solution to my race’s plight.

You are definitely the strangest Soul I ever met.

And you are the strangest Host I ever met.

Perhaps a truce is possible after all.

Only time will show.

And while Jaime and Brienne continue to bond, crisis is underway when Brienne learns of Tyrion’s “experiments” to separate Host and Soul, killing both in the process. Brienne is absolutely mortified, as Jaime knew about this, but didn’t ever tell her.

Though they soon have to leave that aside as well as the rebellion’s next strike is moving forward fast. Along the way, they learn some shocking news that may transform the very nature of their mission to a full-fledged rescue mission of a kind no one ever thought would happen as Souls have to fight for Hosts and Hosts for Souls.

Brienne and Tyrion form a fragile peace, though she leaves Tyrion with a baffling message before she heads out:

“I can help you complete your research, but only to my conditions. Once it’s all done.”

Though only time will show if she can reveal that information to him and if, indeed, the soul can transcend the body.

Or rather, if love can.

[buttercup-of-kaer-morhen]

Of Thorns and Buttercups

~Ch 3/?~

(Beauty and the Beast AU, Kiiiinda. It has definite elements of the original story cause I’m a sap for Fairytale AUs. I hope you enjoy. Also shout out to @sophiakuso1 for being my beta. Here you can find Chapter 1 or Chapter 2) In today’s episode, Geralt wrestles with his feelings... again while Jaskier is his usual charming self. Also there’s magic and enchantment abound much to the witcher’s dismay.

Primary Tags: Beast! Geralt, Belle! Jaskier, Memory Alteration Via Curse, It really only affects Jaskier right now Also on AO3!

————————-

Geralt sat in the quiet wreck of the room just trying to contemplate his current predicament. How he had fallen so far, he didn’t know but he supposed he was always trying to get back to what was supposed to be normal. The thing is, he wasn’t really sure what was normal anymore, much less if he really wanted it. For the longest time, he had known he was supposed to walk the path alone. Then Jaskier walked into his life. After that happened, it seemed like he was cursed for having the bard as a companion. He thought Jaskier needed to leave him so things would just go back to the way they were before, but now that he was gone everything felt wrong. His world kept turning on it’s head every time he thought he had the hang of it and he wasn’t really sure of what he wanted at that point. He supposed there was no point in trying to figure it out now though, everyone was gone and it was decided for him. 

He sighed and stood finally, trying to get used to the feeling of his new form. He was certainly bigger, which was saying something. He was also probably much stronger now too but his gait felt weird now that his legs were shaped more akin to a wolf’s. His gaze swept around the room trying to take everything in once more in case there was anything he missed before. Anything that could help him figure out how to break the curse.There was still the cage with the buttercups inside and the ruined furniture but nothing too out of the ordinary. One strange detail however, or lack thereof he supposed, was the absence of the beast’s blood on the ground where it had died. In fact, there wasn’t even a body to be found. It was just gone. The only object left in its place now was a cluster of dried vines with sharp barbs and dead, dried up roses. “...Creepy.” Geralt hummed in agitation. For what had seemed to be only a moderately annoying job at first, it had turned into something far bigger and more troublesome than he had expected. Not to mention it was all because he wanted to get the damned bard back! He realized a moment later that his chest was rumbling in a low growl, strange but not completely foreign. He took a deep breath and let the rising emotions out as a sigh. No. It wasn’t the bard’s fault in any way. If anything, it was his own because he acted horribly and took his frustrations out on the only man, other then the other wolves, who had stayed by his side through thick and thin. Not to mention, he would have most likely taken the job anyway. He was a monster but he wasn’t completely heartless, at least he thought he wasn’t. If he hadn’t yelled on the mountain top, then he’d at least have a companion in this mess. No, he was alone to figure it out. Just like he wished… 

He sighed again, pulling himself from his reflections, as he rummaged for anything helpful. It took a few minutes but his work bore fruit in the form of a small worn leather bound journal that had been hidden behind a ripped portrait of a man and a woman. When he went to open it though, the door slowly creaked open. He quietly tucked the small book back into it’s hidey hole and went to investigate. It was later then he realized since the halls were now pitch black from night fall but with his enhanced sight, he could still see pretty far down. The passage was empty, but a curious scent that hadn’t been there prior now faintly drifted down the hall. If there was another beast he was actually supposed to kill lurking about, then he was going to be furious. 

He stepped a foot out into the hallway, intending to quietly skulk down the passage to catch whatever thing was still present in the keep, but the sconces on the walls burst to life. A lesser, poorly trained human would have possibly had their heart stop right then and there but the witcher only felt his hackles rise. With a huff of displeasure, Geralt swiftly went down the hall, torches lighting ahead as he went further and extinguishing behind. So… Whatever enchantment that filled the old castle was also directly tied to the curse now on Geralt. He didn’t like it but it wasn’t like it was that surprising. He tracked the foreign scent to the stairs where it branched off in two directions, one faint trail went into the east wing while the other went down to the first floor. Both were barely there, most likely some time had passed since the thing passed through, so he hazarded a guess and went down. 

To his disappointment, all he found there was moving furniture in what he assumed was the dining room, slowly setting up what looked to be breakfast. At least now he knew he wouldn’t starve. The furniture didn’t seem alive either per say, but each piece had little quirks as they seemed to be puppeted around by invisible hands. With everything so far, he wasn’t surprised by magical furniture really, just tired and unamused. Jaskier would have found this fucking delightful and the thought made Geralt glare harder at the innocuous objects shifting about. He left back towards the stairs to follow the second trail, grabbing a lantern on the way in hopes that the wall torches wouldn’t light if he carried a source of light with him. He didn’t need to spook whatever it was or give away his position.

His hunch about the lantern proved correct and as he approached a bedroom door, the scent got stronger. His hand paused on the door handle. He realized suddenly that he knew this scent but he couldn’t place it in his mind. Everything smelled so much stronger after he changed, as if the magic made it ten times worse. It felt like he could see the fucking scents drifting in the air. He tried to shrug it off before finally entering the room. The approaching dawn slightly lit the lavish space. The fire was just coals and embers now and the bed had the hangings shut. The scent was thicker the closer he got to the bed, coating the back of his throat, the drapes too thick to see through. He quietly crept around the side and noticed a… lute? Geralt felt his heart quicken before he snatched at the curtains of the bed and pulled them open, confirming the sudden creeping suspicion of who was laying there. His-- The bard that had been hanging heavily over his thoughts for weeks laid there, rumpled and blinking blearily up at him. He couldn’t back the shocked exhaled whisper. “ Jaskier?...” 

The bard seemed frozen as he looked upon Geralt and took everything in. The witcher felt uncomfortable as the other observed him as if he were some specimen. Obviously, the man could at least recognize his voice but perhaps his tired brain needed a moment to catch up. The words that followed just further confused the hell out of Geralt though. “Ah, so even magical beasts living in ruins in the middle of nowhere have heard of me!” Geralt flinched at the word beast that was thrown at him but the bard’s proud exclamation soothed the hurt a little with it’s familiarity. It was just like the little idiot to preen about a monster knowing his name but it still flustered Geralt that his voice hadn’t clicked in that cute idiotic brain of his. Wait, cute? “Are you going to kill me?” 

The soft concerned words had Geralt’s blood running cold. Kill? Yeah Geralt may have hit Jaskier that one time but he would never-- Did the bard lose all trust in him because of what happened on the mountain? Still! It was a little extreme to think Geralt could ever kill him, much less wound him in any significant way… Then again, hadn’t he? What were harsh lashing words if not another form of hurt. Geralt struggled to find his voice again then. “No, Jask--”

He found his words being cut off all of a sudden before he could finish what he had wanted to say. “Then am I your prisoner?”

The new question had Geralt shaking his head. “No, I--”

Again he found his explanation interrupted, drawing a frustrated growl out of him. “You’re not very beastly or monstrous as one would expect from your appearance.”

Geralt paused a moment to see if the other would continue and when nothing came, he tried once again to speak. “That’s because I’m not--”

“A beast? Oh!” Geralt was seriously reconsidering the no harm thing as the bright voice piped in yet again. “Then I am going to assume you’re either cursed or under some sort of spell! I bet I’m right, I usually have a good eye for these things.” False. “Did you upset the wrong witch? Sleep with her and then her sister? Or was it more of the case that you slept with her intending it only to be a one time thing but you forgot to mention--” The bard was blathering on like his usual self, digging for details for his next song but still something felt off. “-- it was a one time thing? Almost happened to me once. Not at the same time I assure you but on two separate occasions, you know?” Geralt did know. He had had to stop each witch at the time, pulling Jaskier out of the fire just before the idiot got cursed. “Not one of my better moments when I was in the prime of my youth… Can’t for the life of me remember how I got out of those sticky situations though…” 

That was the final straw that broke the horses back and sent red flags sailing in Geralt’s mind. Jaskier quite often brought up either or both of those stories around a campfire as he reminisced about the early days of their friendship. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t remember such a big detail of the tale. That meant… maybe the bard really couldn’t remember the sound of Geralt’s voice, much less Geralt himself. That thought unnerved the Witcher more than anything ever had. Maybe the curse was starting to affect him because he was so close to the source. Geralt decided right then that he had to get the man out of there fast. He realized he had been spacing out and Jaskier was already almost completely dressed but still talking. “Anyway, how about I help you break whatever this is and once you’re free, you’ll allow me to turn it into an epic lyrical tale!” He proposed, all flourish and grandeur, but his eyes belied his fragile hopes and wish for companionship. It almost had him accepting but Geralt couldn’t let the other get trapped with him. 

So he grunted, shaking his head. “No.” He growled with a deep rumble in his chest, trying to avoid the sight of the bard deflating slightly. Instead, he busied himself by snatching up Jaskier’s pack and lute. When he turned, he found Jaskier in the pose he often struck when he was about to argue and act like a stubborn ox. So Geralt threw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. It earned him an indignant squawk which turned into a delighted gasp of “You’re so fluffy and warm!” but he ignored the human’s wiggling in favor of sweeping down the stairs and out of the castle into the gardens. He’d get the bard to leave, even if he had to toss the man into the forest himself. The very idea had a part of him chewing him out and screaming that he was an idiot, but he hushed that part by reminding himself that this was for the best. It’d be safer for the fragile bard if he left, and once Geralt had broken the curse, he would track Jaskier down again so he could actually try and patch things up. His plans, however, stopped in their tracks when he reached where the edge of the forest should have been. Instead, a great wall of thistle and thorn blocked any possible exit, which meant there was no escape now. “Fuck…”

“So about that curse…” Jaskier piped up as Geralt tried to process the new situation they were in. He growled lowly as he set the smaller man back on his feet and shoved his things at him before turning to head back inside. If they were now trapped together, then Geralt wanted to keep to himself and be alone. He couldn’t stand Jaskier looking at him and talking to him as if he were a stranger again. It made something unfamiliar settle in his chest like a weight. The last thing he heard before entering the keep was Jaskier calling after him. “Does this mean I can stay?”

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 25-- Deconstruction/Reconstruction

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  With Radiant Garden under control of the resistance, it's time to rebuild. Ienzo tries to repair the damage done to his family.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

White sheets. Cool air. Color and light. He felt so heavy, and it took him a moment of grappling into consciousness to realize it was because he could barely move his legs.

“Ienzo? Love?”

Ienzo turned his head as much as he was able. He seemed to have motion in his upper body, but even that was difficult, like tugging on puppet strings. “Ev-even?” He swallowed.

“Would you like some water? I’ll get some. Don’t move.”

As if he could help it. Blurrily, he saw Even retreat to a corner of this room--the castle infirmary?--and pour water from a pitcher. He knew he should be grateful to still be sighted at all, after using so much magic. He squinted. Even handed him the cup; he could barely close his hand around it, but he managed it at last. Despite IV fluids, he was so thirsty .

“Are you in any pain? I can get you some medication if--”

“No. I’m not. But I can’t… it’s hard to move.”

“...I know.” Even smoothed some of the hair from Ienzo’s face. His own face was pale, pinched, a large bruise along his throat yellowing. “From the magic use. Breaking down a limiter of that strength… then triggering what you did… frankly, it’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

“Will I be like this… always?”

“I’m optimistic you’ll recover yet, but… there may be some lingering effects.”

“What’s happened? How long have I been out? Where’s Amalia? Where’s--?”

“One thing at a time, child. It’s imperative you remain calm.”

Ienzo tried to center himself, tried to take deep breaths. Even took his hand and rubbed it, gently.

“Amalia is safe and well. I suspect Ansem is enjoying having time with her. Once he received some blood replacement, Demyx was fine too. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled you’re awake. It was all rather… dramatic, how it went down. You’ve been unconscious close to three weeks.”

“Aeleus? ...Isa? What of… everything else? Xehanort’s forces? The son who called himself Ansem? He wasn’t in the throne room that day--”

Even’s eyes went blank, and he turned towards the window. “I’m afraid when I… felt your burst of magic--it was felt everywhere, Ienzo, I don’t think you understand--I assumed the worst and I--I did something reckless. He was our jailer, in my old labs, something he no doubt had great pleasure in. For the first time in my life… I acted on impulse.” He looked at his free hand, which was trembling. “I knew you were in trouble, and I--”

Ienzo had never heard Even sound so shaky. He choked down guilt. “You killed him.”

“...He was the gatekeeper.” He’d turned faintly green.

“Was that the first time you took a life?”

“It does not matter. It needed to happen either way.” He swallowed. “I made my way there, with ease. You killed every Heartless in the vicinity. Those that were human were knocked unconscious, or fled.”

“I… I did?”

“...Quite. The initial scouting indicates that… you may have slain every one in the city.”

“It was not conscious,” he admitted. “All I saw was that Demyx was bleeding out and the soulbinding reacted to all that--”

“--and the rush of emotions triggered magic. Of course it did.”

Ienzo lay back a little. “So without the three of them… and no Heartless…”

“The capital city’s under the control of the resistance.” But there was no happiness in his expression.

“Shouldn’t we be… glad? This is among the best case scenarios--”

“The sudden death of Xehanort and two of his sons has caused something like a power vacuum. The people don’t know how to react. There’s still darkness and various devotees of it spread throughout the country. Some states have turned over towards us, but others are… hesitant. Waiting to see might happen. And there are those who are outright fighting. Aeleus and Isa are among the front line, trying to see what can be done to restore order without worsening things. Meanwhile your father is trying to pursue international aid… and research better ways to defeat the darkness.”

“And of you?”

A pause. “I’ve been taking care of you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be relieved to go back to research, then.”

Even reached forward to smooth Ienzo’s hair. “To be truthful, it has been nice, to have this space to think. To consider.”

Ienzo understood. “...It’s alright if you’re upset, Even.”

“It is so silly , that I feel such guilt for killing one who’s killed thousands with his actions--but my feelings are not important.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” Ienzo struggled to sit up; Even adjusted the pillows under him. “So much for fighting back.”

“I think you’ve done enough. You must recover for what comes next.”

“Amalia. I need to see her.”

He hesitated.

“Please, Even.”

“...Quite.” He seemed to go a little deeper into himself. “Perhaps there will be one day when I’m not constantly in fear of your life.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

Ienzo watched him leave the room. He’d never seen Even so scattered before, so almost… unsure . Had something else happened he was not telling Ienzo, about the man calling himself Ansem? That bruise…

He hadn’t been conscious long, but he was already exhausted. He could still feel his legs, but moving was the problem. Perhaps he could get a wheelchair, and get around that way? He couldn’t seriously sit around and do nothing while all this fighting happened--

The door opened. In came Demyx, carrying their daughter. She’d gotten even bigger since Ienzo last saw her--another month he’d missed--and she was chewing on a teething ring. “Hey,” he said, softly. Like Even, his eyes were closed off.

“How do you feel?” Ienzo asked.

“Me? Oh, I’m fine. Ugly scar, but oh well, right? How are… you?” Amalia was staring at him, not with fear like before, but perhaps curiosity. Ienzo tried to reach out to her with his magic, but it was like swatting wet laundry; it didn’t come instantly to his call. So instead he reached out one trembling hand. She smiled and handed him the slimy teething ring. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sure daddy doesn’t want that.”

“Could I…” He wasn’t sure he was physically strong enough to hold her.

“Ah… sure.” Demyx pulled the chair closer to the bed and plopped her onto the mattress. “I’ve been… bringing her in here for a while every day. While daddy takes his long nap, right?”

She made a sound like “boo.”

“She talks.” Tears rose to his eyes.

“Well. Vocalizes.”

She clapped her hands together.

“And she can hold herself up.”

“She crawls, too. Ah--like that.” She had dragged herself almost across Ienzo’s lap. “I have a feeling she’ll be running before long.”

Amalia looked up at him and made a noise that could only be expressed as “?”

“Daddy,” Demyx said to her helpfully. “You remember now, yeah.”

“Baba.”

“Daddy. Good.” He smoothed the curls off her forehead.

Ienzo felt a rush of affection which was almost painful. “Look at you, big girl.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. She tugged at the sleeve of his robe. “Can you help me?” he asked Demyx.

“Sure.” He eased her into his lap. Amalia pressed her cheek against his chest. “See? Crisis averted.”

“I’m guessing the curls came from you.”

“The only time my hair was long enough to tell was when I was underwater, so.” He shrugged. Amalia gave him a toothless smile. “Look at you, happy girl.”

Ienzo noticed the difference in his voice when he spoke to the two of them. “Are you comfortable? Here?”

“Oh, yeah. Ansem set us up nice in your old room. If you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?”

Another shrug. “Oof, drool patrol.” He grabbed a tissue and dabbed at it. “She’s teething something wicked.”

“Maybe the next time you come you could bring me a book, so I could read to her.”

“She’d probably like that.”

Ienzo wrapped his arms loosely around her, and she let him. Feeling the warmth and weight of her--the subtle twitch of her limbs-- and hearing her little babbling eased this awful ache he’d had for so long. “I missed you,” he said to her. He kissed her head. “I missed you so much. I just… hope we can be a family now.”

“That would be nice,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t it?” The last part he repeated in a goofy voice, and Amalia laughed. “You think you’ll be okay?”

“Even’s optimistic. And I trust him.”

“He’s been up here almost constantly.”

“But the castle is… safe, for you two?”

“Oh, yeah. Magic users crawling out of the woodwork to help. I've still got some fight in me."

“I hope that soon I can be back on my feet, and start being a bigger part of her life.”

“One thing at a time.” Ienzo wondered if he was imagining the flatness in his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Li-li?”

---

It took Ienzo weeks to start feeling something resembling “normal.” For several nights the pain of his healing nerves kept him awake, but at least once it was through with he could limp around a little. He could play with Amalia a little more actively. Physical therapy made him somewhat stronger, and while he had to use a cane to walk more than a few steps, Even believed it would be gone before long.

Members of his family and the resistance ducked in and out. Ansem brought him books, briefed him on the situation as it developed. “Almost feels as though my skills to rule have grown rusty,” he admitted. “It is difficult to tell… which members of parliament left are lying, when they say they did not hold any allegiance towards Xehanort. I’m tempted to dissolve the whole thing and hold elections, but we simply can’t do so at the moment. Making sure our people are fed and safe and cared for is more important than politics at the moment. Thankfully the bordering nations have been kind enough to send along resources and medics.”

“I wish I could help,” Ienzo said. “Being here, waylaid and helpless --”

Ansem just patted his hand. “You jumpstarted a revolution, Ienzo,” he said.

“So I’m told, but I wonder if you all are exaggerating to salve my ego.”

The pat became more of a squeeze. “Control of Radiant Garden was crucial,” he said. “And you achieved that.”

“Only because Xehanort mortally wounded Demyx, and I reacted instinctively--were it not for that my whole plan would’ve collapsed--”

“Ienzo. Why are you being hard on yourself?”

He felt tears in his eyes. “These past six months… I’ve been sitting here in luxury playing silly mind games while my daughter grew up without me, while the rest of you suffered. ”

“You did the best you could with what you had--and you did pretty damn well. This guilt is pointless, Ienzo.”

“I… I know.”

“We are together now. We will rebuild. And I hope things will be better than they were before.”

He sniffled. “Is it over? Can it just be over?”

Ansem drew him into an embrace.

---

Spring began in earnest. Ienzo realized one morning as he woke in the infirmary that the lingering smell of darkness that had hung over Radiant Garden was gone, and a fresh rain brought in the sea air. He no longer needed the cane, but he tired easily, and his legs still ached tremendously. Once he was well enough, he insisted that he be more involved in the reconstruction, insofar as he could.

There was the reality of Xehanort’s youngest son’s experiments. Ienzo had purged the Heartless, but the poor people who had not been transformed were instead traumatized and in some cases catatonic. While there were doctors and psychologists willing to help them, it was hard to tell if they could be helped. Ansem organized national days of mourning for those who had been lost, and released the lists of names so families could have closure. The youngest son had kept meticulous records.

He asked community leaders to come forward with ideas as to help their nation move on. Darkness still existed; but now that people had hope, they were more willing to fight. That, and with the darkness easing, they were getting early signs that the planet could still heal. Ienzo swore he could feel its pulse, its life reaching up to his magic. He wished he did not feel so powerless.

“We don’t want things to go back to the way they were,” Ansem said in a broadcast. “Clearly, “normal” meant “suffering” for some. Darkness… only made that pain more obvious. If we wish to maintain the light, we must heal one another.”

Finally, Ienzo was well enough to go back to his rooms, and begin repairing his family… because it was going to take a lot of work. Amalia was more familiar with him, more comfortable, but still she always looked towards Demyx when she needed something.

And there was the matter of… Demyx.

At first Ienzo thought the distance between them was all paranoia on his part, but it became clear in the way Demyx spoke to him, especially when it came to their daughter. “You dressed her in that? She hates that one, it’s itchy against her scales.” “Sure. You can do that. I guess.” “Look, I know you’re trying, but strawberries give her gas .” “You let her nap too long. Now she’s not going to sleep through the night.” That, and the flatness in his eyes. It wasn’t openly unfriendly, but it lacked the warmth that they’d had before.

More straining than this, in some ways, was sharing a bed. Ienzo had honestly been looking forward to reconnecting on a physical level--he hoped it would help him sleep the deep way he had when they lived together--but that first night Demyx just rolled onto his side and fell asleep. He let it go a few nights, wondering if it were just a pain of readjustment, if he were just used to sleeping alone. Finally, he just got fed up and crawled over to spoon him, jerking him out of his sleep. “What are you--?”

“Trying to touch you?”

“Well could you please not?”

For a moment there was just silence.

Demyx exhaled heavily and ran his hand through his hair. “Look, I… I’m sorry for snapping. But I… I’m not comfortable .”

Ienzo swallowed and felt a lump in his throat. “Would you prefer I slept elsewhere?”

“No, it’s… it’s fine.”

Ienzo eased back to his side of the bed. He knew he would not be able to sleep. As it was, he was struggling not to cry.

The next day they behaved as normally as they could in front of their daughter, but when Ansem came and asked if he could spend some time with her, Ienzo agreed before Demyx could get a word in edgewise. “We need to talk,” Ienzo said.

Demyx wrinkled his nose. “Do we have to?”

“Yes. We do.” Ienzo was surprised to feel his temper flare, but he kept it in check. “Look, we’re… we’re parents, and we’re soulmates . A lot has happened, and you have a right to feel the way you do. But that can’t begin to heal if we keep ignoring it.”

He seemed to not know what to say.

“How do you feel, Demyx?” Ienzo asked.

He rubbed at his arm. “I feel like… I feel…” He swallowed. “Something’s just wrong ? With me?”

“You’re processing.”

“Not that. I don’t know. For a long time I just missed you so much it hurt, and I didn’t know how I was going to do any of it, be her dad, or…” He trailed off, a flush darkening his face. “And then I saw you again, and you were alive, and I was so happy and so relieved and I don’t know what happened since then. Something’s wrong.”

A suspicion slid into place, and Ienzo’s voice shook when he asked, “wrong how ?”

Tears flooded his eyes. “I don’t feel anything. When I look at you. You’re the father of my child. But it’s just… I feel like… I was meant to be her dad, but… I don’t know if I’m meant to be with you?” His voice quivered and broke. “I want to. I want to be in love with you again. But I…”

“I think I understand,” Ienzo said woodenly.

Demyx hesitated. He stared at Ienzo for a moment, and then he took a few steps forward and kissed him, hard.

And it was different.

Physically, it felt the same, the way they moved together. But it was just a nice kiss, without the heavy reassurance that yes , this is part of you, everything is safe, everything is okay.

In his mind’s eye, Ienzo saw Xehanort gouging him below the heart. “Oh,” he said softly.

“What’s wrong with me, Ienzo? Am I just depressed?”

“No,” he said. Numbly, he pulled away.

“...What?”

And then he started laughing.

“ What ?”

Once he began, he couldn’t stop, until tears were running down his face, and he couldn’t breathe, and somewhere the gasps of laughter became sobs, and he was curled in a ball on the floor. He felt Demyx’s hand on his back, warm but the touch was so wrong .

“Ienzo. What is it?”

He looked up. “Xehanort broke the soulbound.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

Written In The Books

trishmarieco said:

I hope I make it! I dare you to insert Jung Hae In somewhere in either 'Overruled', 'Fly Away Home' or 'The Only Choice' worlds! Congrats again sweetie!!

Pairing: Jung Haein x reader

World: Fly Away Home (read HERE)

Genre: royal au

Warnings: none

A/N: I knew when I saw this dare, I had to go back into this world. It posed a challenge since I wrote Jongin into the first one, but I think I worked around that well enough! You could probably read this without the original story but I recommend you read the first so the interactions with some characters make more sense! I have linked Fly Away Home above.

Word count: 3000

The news had reached his kingdom; the Princess set to marry Prince Jongin was dead. If anything, the news should have come as some sort of comfort to Jongin’s eldest brother Haein, especially after the mess Jongin had caused over the past few weeks.

But it didn’t ease him any.

He mourned for her loss of life. Although he hadn’t wanted to clean up the mess of his immature brother, Haein had prepared himself for the upcoming nuptials that would join the two kingdoms politically. And unlike his brother, Haein was aware that they had relied on such a union for future trade prosperity. He now had to concern himself over how to ensure the deals given to his father would be still met.

“Have you heard brother?!” Jongin’s voice rang through the study, the man stopping just in front of the desk Haein was working from. Haein didn’t lift his head to greet him, focusing on the ledger before him instead. His sibling chuckled. “Well, everything works out for a reason! You no longer have to marry the princess of the kingdom over. Though I don’t wish anyone to die, this is wonderful for you! And I!”

“Have you no tact?”

“Whatever do you mean? I never wanted to marry her, that’s why I rushed to marry the Countess. And you said you would cover-”

“Someone has died and all you consider is how liberating this feels for you. You have no sense of responsibility whatsoever,” Haein stated, his brother now blinking rapidly. He sighed, it wasn’t the prince’s fault he had been raised with a silver spoon firmly attached in his mouth. His mother had babied him and thus he had never felt the weight of a single consequence.

Unlike Haein.

Whilst he still had his life, he felt the years of sacrifice heavy upon his shoulders. What he had given up for this kingdom, for this family, he could no longer count upon his hands. And in the face of adversity, his immature brother had married the countess to forfeit his role of becoming the new king with the princess he was arranged to marry.

At least, this was a blessing to some. Haein had been worried about the fall of this kingdom in the hands of someone who cared so little for politics and knew his advisor would have merely made him a puppet king. In the very least, Haein would have stepped up to save the fall of his people now that his father’s health was failing.

Still, it was another sacrifice.

With a hushed apology, Jongin departed the study and Haein leaned back in the chair, removing his glasses so he could pinch the bridge of his nose and release some of the tension. Haein had no idea of what would work to tie the two kingdoms together now. They needed the support from over the border and they needed it fast.

And yet, there had only been one daughter. With her passing, there was no obvious connection to be made and the deal would fall at his feet. Haein couldn’t afford this and nor could he simply sit and wait it out either.

“Where do you plan to go?” his father inquired of his eldest son, hesitant to let him leave the kingdom right now. He had begun to rely on Haein steadily as the days went by, pulling him out of his medical studies just so he could become king.

“I will set out and speak with the King myself. Surely, we can find a way to push forward with some unification.”

“He just lost his child, do you think it’s wise?”

“Stalling will only make us forgotten, my Lord.”

The king sighed heavily before nodding once. “See that you come home with something prosperous.”

  Haein rode out the following morning, heading along the path that the Princess would have taken. He witnessed the damage in the township where the fire had broken out and after stopping to pay his respects, Haein continued with his trip to the neighbouring kingdom.

The king greeted him halfway with his convoy, fear evident in his weathered features. “Have you seen?”

“I have, My Lord. It was burned to the ground. I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

The king shook his head. “Did you see any evidence of her?”

“Well, no but-”

“Then we must search the land around it. She may still be alive.”

Despite his concerns for the elder’s denial, Haein devoted himself to supporting the king in his search for his daughter. Days passed by and there seemed to be no true sighting of the princess.

At least, that was what Haein told the King when he returned to his side later in the evening.

“Please, do not tell him I’m still alive,” she had exclaimed when Haein stumbled across a girl hiding in the woods, watching on as a man helped with the repairs of the burned village. She was desperate, her eyes pleading with Haein to not turn her into her father. He could feel the pain of her decision and with a glance in the direction of the man her eyes followed around, Haein sighed heavily.

“You sacrifice your status for love?”

“Wouldn’t you? I’m sure you wished for me to marry you but truth be told, I am in love with another.”

“I don’t actually wish to marry you,” he told the princess and she smiled lightly. “I do however need to secure trading agreements with your father. Marrying you was meant to do just that.”

“And it is not your fault I have perished. My father is a man of his word. If he offered such an agreement for our marriage, then I believe he will have no choice but to follow through.”

“Here,” Haein offered, unhooking his pouch from the side of his horse. He smiled. “You need this more than I.”

“How will I repay you?” she asked and Haein smiled, looking towards her lover once more.

“Make your life and love worth giving everything up for. We royals sacrifice a lot for others. I’m allowing you this only because I know all too well what it’s like to give up something you cherish.”

“May you be graced with the same opportunity in your life, Prince Haein,” she offered and he merely nodded, climbing aboard his horse.

Looking down at you, he grinned. “The Princess is dead. Now you can be who you wish to be.”

“Are you sure, there was no one in the forest?”

Haein smiled weakly before shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. Only a wild bird flitted about in there.”

The older man nodded slowly, rubbing at his temples. “I’m afraid I will have to let that bird fly then, won’t I?”

“It seems to like where it’s found itself, yes.”

“I suppose you feel the burdens of being unwedded?”

“I just want what we agreed upon. I am willing to work for you in whatever way we must to find a happy union.”

“Come with me for the year. Your father’s health will last that long before you are crowned King, correct?”

Haein nodded. “I believe we may have as long as that before I must return. May I ask why you are taking me in?”

“You kept her safe despite having the ability to come tell me she was alive and well. You chose to sacrifice more than you needed to for a mere stranger. I like your sense of responsibility and believe you will make a fine King. Until then, I wish to return the favour you have bestowed on my little bird.”

  Haein enjoyed his time during the neighbouring kingdom a great deal. The king had seen to it that he was immediately put into training, furthering his understanding of international trade and developing what kind of ruler he wanted to be. His own father had waited far too long to bestow Haein with such knowledge, too focused on his many wives and concubines until he realised he was coming to an end in this lifetime. The way Haein had fished their kingdom out of troubles each time over the years had been down to sheer luck most of the time and usually with a loss on his behalf.

Now, Haein was confident he could lead his people in a way that he wouldn’t need to give up what he cherished in order to do so.

Unlike the princess, and perhaps because of his observation of his father with women over the years, Haein felt free to live his life without finding love as the main goal. He had no need for it in his plans to rule, focusing on how to strengthen his people skills than marrying for any political unification.

Yet, there was one person who caught his eye more than once over the months he had been residing in this castle.

“Astronomy today, My Lord?”

Glancing up from the book he was perusing, Haein smiled at you and nodded. “Yes, I wish to learn more of the world above us.”

“May I suggest a book then?”

“I would be delighted if you did.”

With a smile, you walked over to the wall in front of him that was lined with books from the ceiling to the floor. Back home, the royal library looked nothing as grand as this, and Haein could tell you took great pride in ensuring the books housed here were well looked after. You climbed the ladder, reaching the sixth shelf for a specific book. Watching over your efforts, Haein stood immediately when it appeared you couldn’t quite reach the book from where the ladder was situated.

He smiled as he grabbed the base of it and you looked down at him. “Would you mind taking me to the left?”

“But of course,” he offered graciously, instead wheeling you to the right.

“This is not left, My Lord!”

“Oh really?” he teased, scratching at his head briefly. “Your left or my left?”

“Well, to be fair it’s the same. Your left is mine.”

“How foolish of me,” he exclaimed playfully, wheeling you around to the farthest point the ladder could go to the right. You were giggling when it stopped, soon glancing down at the man grinning up at you.

“I believe this is the wrong way.”

“Again? Oh, let me fix that.”

Haein wheeled you back to the left, smirking when your hand reached out for the book once more. Instead of stopping he continued, both of you laughing together. And then you let out a little huff of air. “I feel you may be charmed by a minx that lives in this library. Are you feeling jubilant today?”

“I feel very satisfied, yes.”

“Because you will return home soon?” you offered, this time grabbing the book as he wheeled you back. Haein stopped with the ladder, his smile fading. You descended the ladder, taking his outstretched hand when you were close enough to do so. And then you sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you any.”

“I am not offended. As much as I want to lead my kingdom into greatness, I cannot help but wish there was more time to stay here. My presence and status have been validated by many around me here. Back home, it’s not quite as clear cut.”

“You’ll find a way to change that.”

“Do you believe so?”

You nodded. “For a man studying the stars, if you are that interested in what exists above us at night, then I’m sure you have a greater interest in protecting those who live below it.”

“Why are you the only person who I feel gets me?”

You blushed, the faintest of red touching your cheeks. It was a pretty shade and Haein couldn’t help but reach out to touch it himself. “I’m simply a lady who is in love with books, My Lord. I do not know how to connect with others outside of this library.”

“You connect well with me in here,” he offered, uncharacteristically eying you with renewed interest. He had always believed you to be splendid, and right now he was becoming aware of just how beautiful you were up close.

Perhaps you had been all along and through the books you had offered him over his stay, slowly he had read your pages as well. He wanted this to be the chapter where he finally confessed you were someone he thought of day and night.

Yet you placed a finger to his lips, shaking your head softly. “Do not say it, please.”

“Why not?”

“Because when you leave, I’ll be left with just these books we have read together and I do not wish to taint them any further by witnessing a short bout of passion.”

“Would you not consider another library in the future?”

“Where?”

“In my kingdom. Though, you would be shocked at the state of it,” Haein admitted and your eyes widened, blinking slowly.

“You wish to take me with you?”

“No, I wish to ask you would you like to accompany me.”

“Is that not the same thing?”

Haein smiled as he shook his head. “No. Whilst my wish is for you to join me, I do not want it to be because of just my library. Therefore, I will leave the decision in your hands.”

“I am not born of noble blood for such an offer.”

“Being a certain status in society means little when the heart calls out for the other. A little bird once taught me that you can lose all that means everything to who you are as a person as long as you have affection for your companion.”

“And you would wish to raise me to your level?”

Haein smiled, leaning in. “On the contrary, I feel I have so much more to learn from you before I can meet yours.”

  You didn’t travel with Haein when it was time for his return to his kingdom. Though you had shared many kisses together in the library, you had decided he must travel alone.

“You have a kingdom to rebuild, is that not your goal for the near future?”

“Will you watch over my progress from afar?”

“Surely, a King will have time to write of his accomplishments to a mere librarian, at least now and then.”

He leaned in to kiss you, smiling into your lips. “If you think I will not write a letter for every day we are apart, then you are in for quite the surprise.”

Once home, Haein did have to establish several new orders in the running of the kingdom. His father had held out long enough to see of his return, eager to hear of his learnings. When he realised Haein had done all that he needed and more to prepare for his crowning, the elder gave over his title to Haein. Of course, not everyone was thrilled he was back and now the king, but Haein worked hard to resolve the resentment and build prosperity in his lands.

He also kept to his promise, writing you a letter every day for a year. Yet, he had not heard from you in response for over a week now, worry taking over his mind whenever he had time to ponder over you.

“My Lord, you have an appointment now,” his advisor announced, Haein looking up from the ledger he was working on and frowned.

“Now? I was under the impression I was not needed until four today.”

“The renovations in the royal library need your approval, sir. It cannot wait.”

“Then I must see to it,” Haein agreed, pushing back his chair as he headed for the door. He made his way along the corridor to the grand staircase, in which he descended with ease, making a left turn down another hallway until he pushed through the double doors of the library. It was empty and he frowned.

“Percy, did you not say I had someone waiting for me?” he called out, unsure if his advisor had followed him or not. Haein jumped when he heard someone move in behind him, causing him to whip around hastily.

“I hear there is a position open for a librarian?”

He merely stared back at you, emotions overwhelming him the longer he took you in. You were finally here, holding a stack of his letters nonetheless. Slowly, he grinned. “Yes, I’m looking for someone who will treat my books as if they were precious individuals.”

“That sounds awfully time-consuming. Especially with the state of this place.”

“Someone organised will no doubt find the job easy to complete.”

“Does it come with many benefits? Will it be a stable position?” you continued, walking around slowly, taking in the changes he had made. Haein followed you, his heart thumping in his chest.

“I plan to marry such a person if she sees the position fit for her.”

You finally turned around, smiling warmly up at him. “I am no Queen.”

“I feel as though you have been one in my eyes long before I became King.”

“I missed you,” you mentioned, stepping closer to him. “I couldn’t take the distance any longer.”

“We never have to be apart again, if you wish for it.”

“Then I think you might have just found your perfect librarian,” you murmured right as his lips found yours, caressing you with a longing that carried you both into further kisses. And soon, those kisses turned into oaths, your life intertwining with Haein’s through marriage and helping him rule the kingdom.

He had sacrificed so much over the years, and when the princess had died, he had never thought he would be capable of having such greatness in his life afterwards. Yet here he was now with you at his side, and your first child together growing inside you.

He knew all that he had given up had led to the greatest reward.

You.

_________________

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